A Baby's Bed Time

There were a few months when our little guy would get so fussy that he was not capable to go sleep at night. We knew he was so tired, so why wouldn't he just friggin' sleep!? This was the source of many tears for this mama and Pat saved me many times from a mental breakdown. Bedtime became known as "the witching hour" in our house.  I would have serious anxiety about bedtime, honestly dreading it.

After returning to work, my co-worker, also a first time mom, told me that she put her son down at 6 pm, no no exceptions. She is Korean, so at first I thought this was her "Dragon Mom" ways. But as our crazy nights continued, I thought she may be on to something. So, after trying so many things, we thought we would give it a go. We swaddled Bear nice and tight right at 6 pm, made sure he was good and fed and rocked him a little bit. His little eyes got heavy immediately and he was out like a light. We haven't looked back since.
I have been trying really hard to create a routine for him. It goes like this:

• Pick him up from daycare
• Play with him a bit (but he's generally starting to get fussy)
• Put him in his jammies
• Swaddle him
• Nurse him

He is mostly at the stage where I can put him in his crib while he is still awake and he is able to fall asleep on his own. Most the time.

But here is the hard part, we miss him. 3 out of 4 days Pat doesn't get to see him at all because he doesn't get home from work until after 6:30pm and leaves before he is awake. I try to keep our little guy up without reaching the point of no return, but it's no use. The fussing starts, the rubbing of the eyes - all the clear signs of baby exhaustion.

This makes me wonder, however, were we ignoring these signs when he was younger?

Regardless, this new bedtime makes life less stressful on all of us. Bear fusses less and Pat and I get our alone time, even if that means folding laundry and doing dishes.

And then, in the morning, Bear looks at us like this:

3 Months: Relationships...

In life you create relationships with people who already know themselves... at least for the most part. They know if they are night owls, or if they eat breakfast or just have a cup of coffee instead. They know if they prefer white bread or whole wheat. They have their own style, good or bad. They know their morals and what they stand for. When you create your relationship with them, they teach you these things  about themselves that are already established. That they, themselves, have established and selected for themselves. 

My son is not established. We are learning everything about him together. In this time of discovery, we both become so frustrated with one another, but also share in the moments of delight that seem to fill my heart so full tears stream from my eyes. He loves mornings and hates tummy time. He refuses pacifiers until he is lying in his crib. He thinks getting dressed is fun and loves to have his bum wiped. Kiss his feet and in return received the widest, gummiest smile you have ever seen! We didn't know all this 2 months ago.

2 months ago we were all frustrated. We were all crying. None of us slept through the night.

Now my boy sleeps from 6pm -12am, only waking to eat, then peacefully falls back to sleep until 3am. This began a week ago when he started sleeping in his crib. My heart broke. Not because we let him cry it out... or because he hated it. In fact, neither of those things happened. He took to it like a fish to water. My heart broke because he didn't need me next to him like I need him. 

The soft sound of his breath does not translate through the baby monitor. Only the cries that startle me awake and the occasional sleepy coo. I must accept that this is part of him establishing himself. He is already becoming more independent and exploratory and for that I should be excited. He is learning to trust himself, as well as us.

During the day he lays in his Pack'n Play and stares and bats at the little animals that hang above him and makes new sounds, exploring his own abilities. I ask him to repeat the squeaks and squeals of delight, to which he responds with his confused eyebrows and then goes about his baby business. 

As we learn about him together, I am trying so hard to remember every detail about our journey. The faces he makes, the pitch of his noises, what makes him happy, even the little warm tears that fall onto my arms occasionally. While we take this journey together, I hope that I am able to help him to establish himself into someone great - someone people can look to as a trusted friend, a giving man, and a motivated citizen of the world - someone I can be proud of, but most importantly, someone he is proud to be.

And I hope for him that when he is grown and creating relationships with others, that he knows exactly who he is, what he likes and how to share himself positively with others. I hope to look to him in my old age and think to myself, "I helped shape that man into who he is, and he is tremendous."

These 3 months have sped by, and yet I can hardly remember my life without him.

Sleeping with a newborn

A sleeping newborn is one of the scariest things in the world. The wrong noise at night and your whole evening can come crashing down around you. In our case, that would be a door latching. I am not sure that our little Bear is considered a newborn anymore. He is rapidly approaching FOUR weeks (tomorrow). But, in that four weeks, Pat and I struggled, I cried (a lot) and then we came up with some tricks.

Being a new parent is probably the most challenging thing I have ever done. Mostly because I want to do everything right and be the best possible mom in the world. When your baby is crying at night, and those first little baby tears fall from your baby's eyes, prepare yourself. Sometimes, you just can't stop his tears, or yours.

Our second night home Bear wouldn't stop crying. We tried everything, or so we thought. Pat took the baby out of our room because I was getting so emotional and frustrated. He sat, frustrated, in our front room and let our baby cry. As a mother, this was the most difficult thing for me to endure. So, I picked myself up out of bed and together, Pat and I sat in our wingback chairs and tried to console the inconsolable.

Bear laid on my chest skin to skin, then we fed, then we laid skin to skin again. (REPEAT) Pat brought pillows and blankets out to make me comfortable and our little family fell asleep that way.

Fast forward to 4 weeks - here are some of the tricks we have learned along this journey.

Take turns: although Pat doesn't always follow this rule (there have been a few nights where he will let me sleep through the night, much to my chagrin). Our turn taking consists of Pat getting up to change the diaper, then he brings a fresh little baby to me for feeding. The trade off? I get to sleep just a little longer during the changing, and Pat gets to sleep while I feed.
Another time to take turns is during the fussy nights. We try to take it in shifts where I will rock our little guy until I can rock no more (standing is required of course), then Pat will take over. A little sleep can go a long way if you are successful in this.

White noise: I repeat, white noise! This was an absolute life saver for us! After a few weeks of up every 2 hours for feeding, Bear had gained lots of weight (he never lost weight after birth) we decided he could sleep a little longer through the night. But the new problem was getting him to sleep. Before we could even put him down he would start wailing. His bottom chin would quiver and my heart would break. That is until my boss told me about the bathroom fan. It makes perfect sense! The sound mimics the womb. So, one night, during my turn, Bear and I sat in the guest bathroom, on the toilet for 2 hours. 2 very peaceful hours of him being wide eyed in the dark. No sleep yet. But, finally, when my butt could no longer take it, we went into his nursery and I found a box fan recording on YouTube. It played for 8 glorious hours and got my little guy to sleep. I laid awake on the couch and he laid on my chest.
Last night was the first night we didn't have to play it for him to get him to sleep, but I am not taking it out of my back pocket just yet.

Swaddle: your baby in nice and snug, just like in the womb!

Use a pacifier: this is controversial to me, but some nights it has been a life saver. I did not want to introduce a pacifier to our son until he was at least 4 weeks old, but that terrible night I mentioned above, where I became a human pacifier, that was the breaking point. I asked our pediatrician about what we should do, and he said to give it to him. I was kind of shocked, and VERY defeated by this. I was cranky and sullen that entire day. Remember that whole wanting to be the best parent ever thing? I wasn't sure this was the best thing, but it was for my nipples. So we tried it.
Much to my relief, Bear doesn't like the pacifier much at all, in fact, he gets angry when we give it to him. He is smart and knows we are trying to dupe him. BUT, there have been a few instances where he takes it, with my thumb resting on his cheek, and he sleeps peacefully.
My thought on this is, you can take a pacifier away, but not a thumb.
(We have not had any nipple confusion, which is often the fear of introducing the pacifier.)

Be realistic: you knew when you got knocked up that this time was coming. The sleep deprivation. You ARE going to be tired. This time is about your baby, not you. Feed him when he needs fed. Rock him. Burp him. Sing to him. Shush him. Comfort him. Anything he needs. Then, nap with him during the day.

Now, 5 nights out of 7 we get about two stints of 4 consecutive hours of sleep each night. That is, when I am not awoken by his sleep sounds and grunts. But, it is much better than the alternative. And we have all learned to sleep with the sound of the box fan YouTube video.

Please note these are all things that work for us. Our guy eats, poos and pees regularly and has continued to gain weight. Talk to your pediatrician about any and all concerns you may have.

"Bear" is our little guy's alias, as I am not sure I want his name circulating the interwebs at this time. Call me overprotective?

Missing him

For the last 3 weeks and 1 day I have been oohing and awing over my son. For the last 3 weeks and 1 day, so has everyone else.

When family and friends come to visit, I happily hand my darling boy over to them. I let them hold him to their hearts content because he is mine and I have him for the rest of my life. And I am proud of him and love to hear how beautiful they think he is.

But, for the last 3 days, I have been handing him over and I am really starting to miss his heavy little head on my chest as we lay on the couch, smelling his new born smell and feeling his little hands and fingers twitching in his sleep. Yesterday I started to notice the separation anxiety hitting me.

It's my turn again. He is currently sleeping on my chest. Not for his soothing, but mine. I missed him.

Our Birth Story : He is here!

Note: This is a long post, and our pictures aren't the best because we didn't have the flash on in the hospital. 

During my entire pregnancy, Pat often slept on the couch. You see, he is a snorer. And this snoring would often wake me from my pleasant sleep (that I so rarely got because of trips to the bathroom etc...) so he would sleep on the couch and leave me to our queen size bed. Although I missed cuddling with him, it was a really nice thing for him to do.

At midnight on January 9, 2013 I woke up with some pretty strong contractions. I had been through this before, so I tried my best to go back to sleep, but continuing to wake up with each contraction as it got stronger. I still wasn't buying it though. It was at 2 am when I was fed up with trying to sleep through the pain. I walked out to the couch to see if Pat wanted to come to bed (which I frequently did because I didn't want to sleep alone). After he agreed to come to bed, I told him that I was having some pretty strong contractions. At that point we both decided to stay awake and time them... again. They were becoming more regular and stronger and I was having to focus to breath through them.

Because I was in false labor 2 weeks prior, a nurse gave me the number to the nurse's station at the hospital so we didn't have to wake Dr. Leonard. We called and they said they sounded like labor but to wait at home as long as possible. We stopped timing the contractions and tried to sleep some more. I laid in bed and stared at the lights reflecting off the pool onto our bedroom wall. It was strangely beautiful and peaceful.

I couldn't pretend to sleep anymore so Pat and I jumped into the shower and tried to relax. He held onto me and rubbed my back as each contraction hit me. It was more soothing than I thought. I could have stayed in there all day but I didn't want to stand up anymore though. I bath may have been a better choice. 

After the shower, I thought we should head to the hospital, and by this time it was 8 am. Pat packed up the car, a grabbed my physio ball and we were on our way again. Pat was dying to text everyone, but I told him to hold off until we knew if we were admitted or not. I didn't want to be setting up false hopes for everyone else. We talked and laughed all the way to the hospital and made up stories about the two cab drivers who appeared to be arguing through their windows at a stop light. We weren't in a rush, which made things much calmer than one sees in the movies. 

We found a parking spot fairly close to the door but it also felt nice to walk. Half way to the door, a contraction hit and Pat just held and hugged me until it passed. We checked in at the ER and were taken up to triage. Pat's excitement was too much and he had to text our family to let them know what was going on. 

After I was hooked up to all the monitors, the contractions became less regular. Deja vu. But, my blood pressure was high enough for the nurse to call my doctor. He requested they do blood work on me and test a urine sample. The fear of preeclampsia from the day before was rearing its ugly head again. The nurse checked me in the mean time and I had dilated to 3 cm which was 2 more than I was the day before. These contractions were actually doing something! The nurse told us that my doctor wanted to induce with pitocin. My heart dropped. I DID NOT want to be induced. This was certainly not in my birth plan. I asked her if we could do the "bulb thing." She said we are already past that point. She also said the gels were not an option because my doctor was too conservative. (I think she did not like him).

The nurse seemed to have little patience for these tests, wanting to induce me and my doctor. She wanted to send me home. But my doctor was adamant and worried. He stopped by the triage "room" (read: uncomfortable bed with curtain around it and no privacy) and I have never felt such relief. He looked at my contractions and said they were becoming more regular again. He said he would give me an hour to see if I would progress on my own. If not, they would administer the pitocin. "I am keeping you here. You are having the baby today." 

Excitement and terror swept through my body. I have read too many birth stories about induced labor. I knew this was going to hurt. We were moved into our roomy and private room in Labor and Delivery. I willed my body to do it on its own. I tried to relax and meditate through each contraction because I knew if I did that, my body could do what it needed to do. I should have taken some damn hypno-birthing classes! I didn't progress. Our new L & D nurse started to put my IV in in my right arm. Holy shit it hurt! Then she blew the vein and had to do the same in my left arm. (The bruises have just now disappeared 3 weeks later). The pitocin started into my veins. 

We talked to the new nurse about our doctor and she told us how much she liked him. She told us of a few birth stories that he delivered, which made me more sure of our choice to have him as our doctor. I also told her about my fear of this labor going all wrong and that I would have to have a C-Section. She shook her head and said everything is on track and I needn't worry about that at all. Pat and I both felt relieved hearing her say that. 

The contractions became unbearable. I was required to lay on my left side because the baby's heart rate went down when I was on my back. This seemed to make the contractions worse. The bed railings took the brunt of my pain. I squeezed them for dear life and could not seem to breath through anything. Pat did all he could and held my hand between contractions. I couldn't comfortably hold his hand during the contractions because of all my tubes hooked into my arm.

The nurse checked me about 30 minutes after the pitocin was in my veins and I had dilated another cm. It was progress, but not as much as they wanted to see. At this point I asked for the epidural. Before arriving at the hospital I wasn't sure if I was going to do the epidural or not. I really wanted the experience of feeling labor. Well, felt it I had and I was ready to be a little more comfortable. I also knew that if I had the epidural, my body would be able to do what it needed to do. I was too tense because of the pain, and that was going to make my labor even longer. 

Once my nurse had gotten the "okay" from my doctor, the anesthesiologist came in to administer the epidural. I have been afraid of that needle going into my back since I saw it on "A Birth Story" years ago. I mean, I was terrified. But, what I did know was that there was no way it was going to hurt worse than what I had been experiencing for the last 11 hours. I had to control my shaking so he could properly stick it into my spine, as well as ignore the contraction I was having at the time. (The IV hurt worse than the epidural)

The sensation was strange once the drugs had worked their way into my body. I actually said "I feel like my bum is asleep," to everyone in the room. I was slightly embarrassed after the words came out. But soon after that, all embarrassment and modesty went out the door for me. Apparently, when one has an epidural, one also receives a catheter. Okay, that was when my modesty went out the door. I don't often show my hoo-ha to the world, but the nurse sees them EVERY day and I was nothing special. That is what I had to tell myself... it kind of worked. I am a very modest person. 

Once I was comfortable and resting, Pat went into the waiting room to visit with his mom. I laid in the bed trying to sleep because I didn't know how much energy I would have with the lack of sleep from the previous night. But then the nurse came in a little frantic and had me lay on my left side again and put an oxygen mask on me. She started telling me that baby's heart rate was dropping at the end of my contractions. This deceleration is very dangerous for the baby. I started to panic, worried about my unborn son. We had come so far! Pat walked into the room seeing the oxygen on me. He knew something had changed and it wasn't good. I couldn't talk, in a state of shock I suppose. The nurse tried to explain, but started in the middle, ultimately Pat was lost too. She stopped the pitocin, thinking this may be the cause of the deceleration. A few short moments later Dr. Leonard arrived from his office where he had been monitoring me. I could tell he was concerned again and he started to explain things to us. "I am going to break your water and we are going to put internal monitors on the baby. These will give us a more accurate reading of the baby's heart rate. If the deceleration doesn't stop, we are going to have to do a C-Section," he said matter-of-factly. 

All I could do was look at Pat. I was praying at that moment he could see into my soul and know my terror. I knew if I reacted the way my heart wanted me to, I would be hysterical. A C-Section was not in my birth plan. I was terrified of the surgery. I was terrified of not being able to hold my baby boy on my chest immediately after birth. I was terrified something was happening to him. I was terrified that I had no control over the situation. My thoughts kept going back to the pitocin. I was angry with myself for being induced. Maybe if I had been more adamant about waiting we wouldn't be here, on the verge of emergency surgery. Maybe if we had stayed home longer... But I knew my raised heart rate was a danger for him as well. I couldn't control it one way or the other. We just had to get him out safely.

Dr. Leonard broke my water and put the monitors in. Pat held my hand while silent tears fell down my face.  Pat assured me that one way or the other, everything would be okay. I had no choice but to believe him. 

After monitoring the baby with the internal monitors for a while, the nurse came in saying it looks like his heart rate is back to normal and we wouldn't have to have a C-Section. Relief fell over me and I started crying again. She kept the oxygen on me as a precaution. 

A short time later I started to feel that pressure that everyone talks about, the one that feels like a bowl movement... I told the nurse and she checked me. "Wow, he is right there." Our little guy decided to start the journey on his own. She had me do a few practice pushes, then called in my doctor. 

They explained to me how I needed to push properly and then we waited for the next contraction. I was able to feel the pressure of them at this point and knew where I needed to direct the push. Everyone was cheering me on which made me feel like a champion. Pat counted for me. After the first 2 contractions and 6 pushes, the nurse said she could see his hair color.  Pat and I looked at each other and smiled. He thought it would be blonde, well we both did. 

After 15 minutes total, 2 more contractions and 3 more pushes (9 pushes total) our little guy had entered the world! He had brown hair (still does) and he was still covered in vernix. The nurse put him on my chest immediately while the doctor prepared the umbilical cord for Pat to cut. We were both elated and sobbing. We had waited for this moment for a very long 9 months.

He was 7.4 lbs, 19 inches and perfectly healthy.

39 weeks still

We went to the doctor today for my 39 week check up. What seemed like a normal appointment started with what I thought was a back spasm. When my sweet nurse called my named she looked at me and said, " You aren't having a contraction are you?" I assured her I wasn't and that it was just a spasm. She simply said "That's called a contraction." I stand corrected.

She took my blood pressure and asked if I was nervous. I wasn't. So she took us into the exam room and took it again. Again, she asked if I was nervous. I laughed and said I had nothing to be nervous about. 2 more times she took it just to be safe. It was 132/80. I have been at a constant 120 through out the pregnancy. The doctor was slightly concerned and he wants to see me again on Friday so they can monitor my increase in blood pressure and see if they need to induce me, for fear of preeclampsia.

While the doctor was measuring my ever growing belly he said, "You have a nice big boy in there."

"How big?" I asked, terrified of his answer.

"I'd say eight pounds."

OMG

This is not what I had in mind at all. I was thinking a nice 7.2 lb baby. But 8 lbs. My jaw literally dropped and I immediately looked at Pat with fear. We have a whole week of growing ahead of us! He could weigh more that that!

Additionally, I am still only dilated to one centimeter. I know that doesn't mean anything, but it doesn't feel encouraging either.

So now I am getting nervous. Maybe nothing is going to go according to plan. I don't have a crazy birth plan, but being induced isn't one of the things on it. I am also scared that maybe he will be too big now to come down the birth canal, so then I would have to get a c section-also not in my plan.

I thought the scariest thing about having the baby was the pain of labor, but now, it is certainly the not knowing how things will progress, if I am going to labor on my own or need an induction. There are just too many unknowns today.

...

I came home from work today to a relaxing candlelit bath, chocolate milk and a movie on my iPad. Now I am resting in bed trying not to stress, and willing my blood pressure to regulate itself.

I will let you know on Friday how it goes.

One is half-way to Two: 39 weeks

Last Sunday, well Monday technically, Pat and I had our first trip to the hospital triage room. I had been having contractions regularly for an hour and twenty minutes. They were right on par with the 5-1-1 ratio they teach you in the birthing class. So I did what I thought I should do and I called the doctor. I felt terrible that it was 2 am, but the on call doctor told me to go to the hospital. So we did.

We were hooked up to the monitors, then checked - not dilated - and sent home at 3:30 am.

The contractions stopped and have not been regular since. Unless you count them waking me up at 4:30 am every day regular. 'Cause that does feel pretty damn regular. I wish someone would tell you that... that you can have regular contractions that start and stop. I thought once they started like that, there was no turning back.

The following Wednesday was my next scheduled doctor's appointment. My doctor asked if I wanted to be checked again. I really do appreciate him asking me because honestly, that hurts like an S.O.B. and it takes me a day + to recover. But, this time I did say yes. I was curious to know if these contractions were doing anything other than waking me up and teaching me how to breath. Now, if I have the choice, I will not be checked. If I am in labor, then I will know it. Maybe.

"You are at one centimeter," he said.

After he left the room, Pat smiled at me and said "One centimeter is half way to two!" I smiled back at him wondering who told him to say that. He really has been saying all the right things that make me feel better during these last few weeks. For that I am SO grateful.

I am really getting uncomfortable and anxious and have no desire to talk about my due date. Strangers ask me all the time now and usually I just say "tomorrow." Not because I am being curt, but because I really do want it to be tomorrow. And in the case of this early morning, I want it to be today. I want to to have been yesterday.

This whole pregnancy people have said that I won't make it to my due date. Now that the 15th is fast approaching, the anxiety that I will pass it is coming on strong. Pat and I have been taking walks, and I have been sitting on the birthing ball and bouncing around like crazy. Maybe this is causing all the crazy irregular contractions I have been having but I just don't know what else to do.

And as for this nesting thing, it is so far from my mind. I have been nesting for the last 8 months. All I want to do now is lay on the couch or in bed and sleep. There is 0.0 urge to nest. But I would like to take down the Christmas tree. And the Christmas lights. I am starting to feel like Gretchen Wilson up in here.

Currently

Craving: Sour Punch Straws - The blue flavored ones (another topic for another day)

Avoiding: Thinking, talking, referring to my due date

Ailments: Contractions of the irregular kind

Sleep: Enjoying what I am getting

Weight: 155

Favorite thing about being pregnant: Knowing my body knows what to do to prepare itself for labor

Least favorite thing: can't say... TMI