Finally. Time to sit down with my half glass of dark chocolate soy milk and Josh's computer. Time to blog while repeatedly smiling at Malachi who is busy yelling and talking and letting the universe in general know he is alive and awake. He may just throw himself out of his bouncer if I don't go rescue him from it soon.
People have often asked me how being a Mommy is. My response? It doesn't really feel like life has changed that much. And yet I know it has. I would say it's similar to getting married; everything is different and new and yet it feels like life may have been this way forever.
As much as I'd like to say things have fallen into a routine, I know there is much room for improvement. It is not yet rare for Josh to get home in the evening after a long day at school and find me still in my pj's, hair a mess, glasses repeatedly sliding down my nose as I realize I've not yet come up with dinner plans and Malachi is ready to eat again. Today is a midway successful day- I have a load of laundry in the dryer, the dish washer is running, the pots and pans are clean and Malachi got a bath. (Don't judge me for calling it successful when that's all I've accomplished). Oh, and I'm finally taking the time to write a blog. Which now falls way low on the list of priorities. Which is why this post is coming to a close. I've got more to do. My son to rescue from the bouncer, a diaper to change (if the sounds coming from Malachi's direction are any indication), bottles to wash, and it would probably be good if I made myself a little more presentable before my man comes home. Time to get moving. Oh, and dinner. I've got to stop forgetting dinner.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Monday, November 14, 2011
Having a Baby- Pattengale Style
It's been two weeks since Malachi David Pattengale entered this world. I guess it's finally time to re-enter the blogosphere and tell the world.
So. We'll start at 7:30 am on Thursday, October 27. I got home from work and got into my warm, cozy bed and snuggled up to my warm, cozy husband and said "Goodnight." (Oh the bliss of coming home to a warm bed and man!) I woke up around 3:30 that afternoon to spend some time with Josh before he left for the evening- he was going to a guys night at a friend's house. At least, he thought so. During a round of Gin Rummy, I once again started having contractions. These have been starting and stopping (most annoyingly) for the past week. We started timing them at 3:42. I know the exact time because we wrote down the contractions and I still have the paper on the fridge. It's one of those things that I just can't throw away. They were about 8-9 minutes apart consistently- strong enough that I'd stop playing and breathe through them, but not really painful. After an hour, I got irritated so I pumped with my milk pump for about 20 minutes. That brought my contractions to every 3-4 minutes. After an hour of these contractions, I decided to take a shower. (I didn't want to go to the hospital even though the timing and length of the contractions were appropriate- since I work in the Birthing Center I didn't want to be sent home from triage for false labor. Mortifying.) After my shower we waited another hour of contractions every 5 minutes before I called the midwife to let her know what was going on. She said I could do whatever I wanted, so I packed up my bags and we went to the hospital an hour later (eh, 8:30pmish).
I was in triage about 30 minutes when they admitted me into labor. The monitor showed I was having contractions every 1-2 minutes, but the baby's heart rate wasn't showing the changes they wanted. So, lots of fluids, popsicles, and lying on my side. After an hour, his heart rate started showing good variations- we were back in business. I had to have IV antibiotics for Group B strep, a normal bacteria that some women have, so they got that on board and then it was time to start walking the halls. It's an interesting thing to wear a hospital gown and have contractions in front of co-workers. I got back massages, advice and encouragement at the nurses' station- they also told me I was 3.5 cm and -2 station. (I was ticked at the -2 station. Come on now, Baby P.)
At 11:30, the midwife broke my water- most interesting feeling ever! Like peeing yourself, but you know you didn't. Suddenly I understood why the nurses were all saying I was smiling too much at the beginning- those contractions were nothing compared to these new ones. I took one more walk in the halls and then said, "Shoot, I'm done with that. It hurts." :) My favorite new spots were lying on my side (breathing and relaxing through contractions) and sitting on the birthing ball (rolling around on the ball during contractions and resting back on Josh between them).
Let me mention, Josh was fantastic! I was incredibly nervous that I would be a total witch during labor- I tend to get a little snappy and mean when I'm hurting. I was just hoping I wouldn't say anything that would damage our marriage forever. ;) However, with that foreknowledge, I must say I did pretty well! There was one time he was talking to my mom on the phone during a contraction and I commanded him (very strongly and several times) to put that phone down! I also had him changing the thermostat almost every minute. But he was great! Supportive, encouraging, loving. He stopped me when I started punching my thigh repeatedly during a contraction (it doesn't really make sense now- but hitting my thigh had seemed like an appropriate response to the pain at the time) and repeatedly offered his hand through every contraction. He grabbed the trash can when I started throwing up and massaged my back whenever I needed it. I have told him this repeatedly: I could not have done it without him (also, I would not have needed to do it without him! Ha.)
At some point in the night, the word 'medicine' started rolling around in my head. Josh and I had wanted to have a medication free birth (other than the necessary antibiotics), but we weren't set in stone as we had no idea what labor was like. We decided to have the nurse check my progress and decide afterwards. She said I was 6cm dilated. Not quite as much as I had hoped, but I really think I was just trying to overachieve (and also I wanted the pain to be done.) After a few more contractions, we decided to try the tub for pain relief. The warm water was heavenly at first. Minus the fact that I was nine months pregnant and a whale. Whales are not supposed to fit in tubs. It's depressing when you can't get all of you under water. You have to keep shifting and rotating and rolling so you don't get cold. Mostly, I just wanted the water to cover my belly- it felt the best that way.
After about 10 minutes in the tub, it wasn't working anymore. The contractions seemed stronger, longer, worse. Josh held the removable shower head so it was spraying water straight on my stomach, but all I could do was cry and pray, "Oh Lord, Oh Lord, Oh Lord" repeatedly. (Oh goodness, I'm going to cry now... this is bringing back quite the memories...) I called my labor nurse into the bathroom, sat up so my face was about a foot away from her's and said (in probably my most intense voice ever... poor Erin!) "Erin, I want pain medicine." She was very serious in return and told me she would get the midwife and then we'd get me some meds.
When the midwife came in, she watched 2 contractions in the tub. At this point, I had no idea what was going on with my body. Halfway through a contraction my entire body would start shaking. I was trying my best to relax (I had been practicing relaxation techniques for the previous 9 months) but would end up pushing with each contraction. The midwife decided to check my progress before allowing any medication: "Ericka, you're a 10. You're completely dilated and ready to go. We're going to get you into the bed and you're going to have this baby." Suddenly I understood why the contractions in the tub seemed so bad. They were! I had dilated 4 cm in 20 minutes. Intense. And no time for pain meds. I had made it.
After the next contraction, I climbed out of the tub, Josh and the midwife quick toweled me dry, and we tottered over to the bed. (I say tottered because it wasn't a walk and it wasn't a run. It was like a trot with the midwife holding one arm and Josh the other. I have no idea who had the IV pole with the antibiotics. I don't even know if it was still hooked to me or not.
I got in the bed and tried to prepare myself for the next hurdle: pushing out a baby. I had read in a book not to push as hard as possible- push how hard your body is telling you to. So, with the first push, I only pushed until I felt pain relief. I didn't think it was that great of an effort, but then the midwife said, "Oh, he's got a lot of hair!" And Josh said he saw the head too. And I thought, "Uh oh, you're not supposed to be seeing his head just yet." And with the second push, I got to reach down and feel my baby's head. It felt... wet. Warm. Soft. After this second push, they told me at some point I was going to feel a lot of pain... the dreaded 'ring of fire.' Even the name is enough to conjure fear in the heart of every woman of childbearing age. Shudder. I replied, "Yes, that is what I'm afraid of!" Push through it, they told me. So, with the third push and (I'm not going to lie) a bit of a yell, I pushed hard. And out came his head. And they told me, "One more, Ericka!" So, with another yell and my forth and final push, out came my son. The midwife had positioned Josh's hands, so he got to deliver our baby.
Suddenly, I had this incredibly warm, wet, soft little body lying on my chest. I heard Josh say, "He's beautiful, Ericka," but I was lost. A weird feeling of disconnect. There is a baby lying on my chest. I know he is mine. What am I supposed to do now? "Hi, buddy." I remember hearing Malachi cry- I remember Josh going to lie down when he got really pale and lightheaded- I remember people congratulating us- but besides how warm Malachi's body was, everything seemed very distant.
I know at some point, it will be difficult to recall the details, but for now, they are engraved in my mind. Malachi David Pattengale, born on his due date. October 28, 2011. At 4:04 am. Weighing 7lbs, 12 oz. Length 20 inches. A full head of dark hair. Perfect.
I will skip the details of the midwife sewing me back together. Needless to say, when you only push 9 minutes, there is no time for an episiotomy or stretching. There is time for nothing except catching the baby. So we had to do some repair work.
Then came snuggling with my son- a shared pride with my husband- exhaustion from a long night's work- pictures with my new family of three- the most delicious piece of toast I've ever eaten- my first unguarded moments alone with my son- a feeling of utter joy mixed with deep tiredness that completely filled my being. And the peace that comes with knowing you finished. You completed the task. You did well.
Of course, the work of being a parent? Well, it just started...
So. We'll start at 7:30 am on Thursday, October 27. I got home from work and got into my warm, cozy bed and snuggled up to my warm, cozy husband and said "Goodnight." (Oh the bliss of coming home to a warm bed and man!) I woke up around 3:30 that afternoon to spend some time with Josh before he left for the evening- he was going to a guys night at a friend's house. At least, he thought so. During a round of Gin Rummy, I once again started having contractions. These have been starting and stopping (most annoyingly) for the past week. We started timing them at 3:42. I know the exact time because we wrote down the contractions and I still have the paper on the fridge. It's one of those things that I just can't throw away. They were about 8-9 minutes apart consistently- strong enough that I'd stop playing and breathe through them, but not really painful. After an hour, I got irritated so I pumped with my milk pump for about 20 minutes. That brought my contractions to every 3-4 minutes. After an hour of these contractions, I decided to take a shower. (I didn't want to go to the hospital even though the timing and length of the contractions were appropriate- since I work in the Birthing Center I didn't want to be sent home from triage for false labor. Mortifying.) After my shower we waited another hour of contractions every 5 minutes before I called the midwife to let her know what was going on. She said I could do whatever I wanted, so I packed up my bags and we went to the hospital an hour later (eh, 8:30pmish).
I was in triage about 30 minutes when they admitted me into labor. The monitor showed I was having contractions every 1-2 minutes, but the baby's heart rate wasn't showing the changes they wanted. So, lots of fluids, popsicles, and lying on my side. After an hour, his heart rate started showing good variations- we were back in business. I had to have IV antibiotics for Group B strep, a normal bacteria that some women have, so they got that on board and then it was time to start walking the halls. It's an interesting thing to wear a hospital gown and have contractions in front of co-workers. I got back massages, advice and encouragement at the nurses' station- they also told me I was 3.5 cm and -2 station. (I was ticked at the -2 station. Come on now, Baby P.)
At 11:30, the midwife broke my water- most interesting feeling ever! Like peeing yourself, but you know you didn't. Suddenly I understood why the nurses were all saying I was smiling too much at the beginning- those contractions were nothing compared to these new ones. I took one more walk in the halls and then said, "Shoot, I'm done with that. It hurts." :) My favorite new spots were lying on my side (breathing and relaxing through contractions) and sitting on the birthing ball (rolling around on the ball during contractions and resting back on Josh between them).
Let me mention, Josh was fantastic! I was incredibly nervous that I would be a total witch during labor- I tend to get a little snappy and mean when I'm hurting. I was just hoping I wouldn't say anything that would damage our marriage forever. ;) However, with that foreknowledge, I must say I did pretty well! There was one time he was talking to my mom on the phone during a contraction and I commanded him (very strongly and several times) to put that phone down! I also had him changing the thermostat almost every minute. But he was great! Supportive, encouraging, loving. He stopped me when I started punching my thigh repeatedly during a contraction (it doesn't really make sense now- but hitting my thigh had seemed like an appropriate response to the pain at the time) and repeatedly offered his hand through every contraction. He grabbed the trash can when I started throwing up and massaged my back whenever I needed it. I have told him this repeatedly: I could not have done it without him (also, I would not have needed to do it without him! Ha.)
At some point in the night, the word 'medicine' started rolling around in my head. Josh and I had wanted to have a medication free birth (other than the necessary antibiotics), but we weren't set in stone as we had no idea what labor was like. We decided to have the nurse check my progress and decide afterwards. She said I was 6cm dilated. Not quite as much as I had hoped, but I really think I was just trying to overachieve (and also I wanted the pain to be done.) After a few more contractions, we decided to try the tub for pain relief. The warm water was heavenly at first. Minus the fact that I was nine months pregnant and a whale. Whales are not supposed to fit in tubs. It's depressing when you can't get all of you under water. You have to keep shifting and rotating and rolling so you don't get cold. Mostly, I just wanted the water to cover my belly- it felt the best that way.
After about 10 minutes in the tub, it wasn't working anymore. The contractions seemed stronger, longer, worse. Josh held the removable shower head so it was spraying water straight on my stomach, but all I could do was cry and pray, "Oh Lord, Oh Lord, Oh Lord" repeatedly. (Oh goodness, I'm going to cry now... this is bringing back quite the memories...) I called my labor nurse into the bathroom, sat up so my face was about a foot away from her's and said (in probably my most intense voice ever... poor Erin!) "Erin, I want pain medicine." She was very serious in return and told me she would get the midwife and then we'd get me some meds.
When the midwife came in, she watched 2 contractions in the tub. At this point, I had no idea what was going on with my body. Halfway through a contraction my entire body would start shaking. I was trying my best to relax (I had been practicing relaxation techniques for the previous 9 months) but would end up pushing with each contraction. The midwife decided to check my progress before allowing any medication: "Ericka, you're a 10. You're completely dilated and ready to go. We're going to get you into the bed and you're going to have this baby." Suddenly I understood why the contractions in the tub seemed so bad. They were! I had dilated 4 cm in 20 minutes. Intense. And no time for pain meds. I had made it.
After the next contraction, I climbed out of the tub, Josh and the midwife quick toweled me dry, and we tottered over to the bed. (I say tottered because it wasn't a walk and it wasn't a run. It was like a trot with the midwife holding one arm and Josh the other. I have no idea who had the IV pole with the antibiotics. I don't even know if it was still hooked to me or not.
I got in the bed and tried to prepare myself for the next hurdle: pushing out a baby. I had read in a book not to push as hard as possible- push how hard your body is telling you to. So, with the first push, I only pushed until I felt pain relief. I didn't think it was that great of an effort, but then the midwife said, "Oh, he's got a lot of hair!" And Josh said he saw the head too. And I thought, "Uh oh, you're not supposed to be seeing his head just yet." And with the second push, I got to reach down and feel my baby's head. It felt... wet. Warm. Soft. After this second push, they told me at some point I was going to feel a lot of pain... the dreaded 'ring of fire.' Even the name is enough to conjure fear in the heart of every woman of childbearing age. Shudder. I replied, "Yes, that is what I'm afraid of!" Push through it, they told me. So, with the third push and (I'm not going to lie) a bit of a yell, I pushed hard. And out came his head. And they told me, "One more, Ericka!" So, with another yell and my forth and final push, out came my son. The midwife had positioned Josh's hands, so he got to deliver our baby.
Suddenly, I had this incredibly warm, wet, soft little body lying on my chest. I heard Josh say, "He's beautiful, Ericka," but I was lost. A weird feeling of disconnect. There is a baby lying on my chest. I know he is mine. What am I supposed to do now? "Hi, buddy." I remember hearing Malachi cry- I remember Josh going to lie down when he got really pale and lightheaded- I remember people congratulating us- but besides how warm Malachi's body was, everything seemed very distant.
I know at some point, it will be difficult to recall the details, but for now, they are engraved in my mind. Malachi David Pattengale, born on his due date. October 28, 2011. At 4:04 am. Weighing 7lbs, 12 oz. Length 20 inches. A full head of dark hair. Perfect.
I will skip the details of the midwife sewing me back together. Needless to say, when you only push 9 minutes, there is no time for an episiotomy or stretching. There is time for nothing except catching the baby. So we had to do some repair work.
Then came snuggling with my son- a shared pride with my husband- exhaustion from a long night's work- pictures with my new family of three- the most delicious piece of toast I've ever eaten- my first unguarded moments alone with my son- a feeling of utter joy mixed with deep tiredness that completely filled my being. And the peace that comes with knowing you finished. You completed the task. You did well.
Of course, the work of being a parent? Well, it just started...
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Autumn.
Autumn is my favorite.
Scarves.
Apple cider.
My dad's old flannel red and black jacket.
Snuggling.
Gusty, invigorating breezes.
Crunchy leaves.
Pumpkins.
Pumpkin pie.
Pumpkin rolls.
Pumpkin lattes.
Pumpkin bread.
Dark hot chocolate.
Red, orange, and brown.
Sweaters (albeit, I wear sweaters all year long).
Festivals.
Beautiful foliage.
Spicy smells.
Chili and cornbread.
Crisp, clear air.
The whispered thought of Christmas.
Scarves.
Apple cider.
My dad's old flannel red and black jacket.
Snuggling.
Gusty, invigorating breezes.
Crunchy leaves.
Pumpkins.
Pumpkin pie.
Pumpkin rolls.
Pumpkin lattes.
Pumpkin bread.
Dark hot chocolate.
Red, orange, and brown.
Sweaters (albeit, I wear sweaters all year long).
Festivals.
Beautiful foliage.
Spicy smells.
Chili and cornbread.
Crisp, clear air.
The whispered thought of Christmas.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
An Exceptionally Good Day
Satisfied.
That is what I feel right now.
Today we had our external version- the procedure where the OB doctor and midwife try to push a baby into the head down position when he or she is breech. It is such a weird feeling to be walking into the hospital to be admitted as a patient; suddenly my adrenaline is pumping and holding Josh's hand is a necessity. We start with a quick stop at Radiology for an ultrasound to make sure Baby P. is still breech. And yes, he is. We also ask for a quick check to make sure his male genitalia is still present. Thankfully, it is. I would've been a nervous nelly to find out he'd lost them somewhere in my uterus. :)
Next we ride the elevator up to my home base- the birthing center. But, like I said, it's not quite as relaxing when you are the patient. After a quick check in, I get to change into a hospital gown- wow those things are breezy on the backside- and hop into the hospital bed to watch some cable while they start an IV. (They set everything up as if we will need to do a c-section, as this is one of the possible negative outcomes of a version.) After my IV is in, they hook me up to the baby's heart monitor- his heart rate is running in the very decent 140s and my uterus is irritable. After around 30 minutes of monitoring, the nurse gave me an injection of terbutaline to relax my uterus and the ladies with the baby turning hands show up. Another quick ultrasound, baby powder dusted all over my belly, and it's time to convince this little man that he wants to go head down.
I have heard versions described in completely different ways. Everything from 'slight discomfort' to 'I would've never had one if I knew it was going to hurt like that. Just give me a c-section.' I found it to be the combination of someone giving you a deep tissue massage and an Indian burn at the same time. With Josh holding my right hand, my nurse holding my left, and the doctor and midwife shoving on the baby, all I could really think about was my breathing and trying to relax. I do remember hearing Josh telling me what a good job I was doing. And I remember when the doctor couldn't find the baby's head again halfway through the turn. I remember saying, "Oh dear, we've lost his head." And hearing everyone laugh. I remember my left leg flexing as the midwife's hands pushed across my tight left round ligament. I remember thinking they must almost be done and then them questioning if he had moved at all. A quick ultrasound showing that not only was he heading down, they were about to start pushing his head back up to the top! So they stopped that idea really quickly. We were done! He was head down and we simply needed to be monitored for the next hour to make sure everything still looked wonderful. What a feeling.
After arriving at home, I got to climb back into bed and sleep for the next 5 hours. Which was kind of fantastic, as the terb injection made me jittery and exhausted. And I'm probably going to go climb back into our king bed of comfort as soon as I finish writing this.
So, besides a successful version, what else could make this day better? We found out the new Chipotle is open- OH YEAH. We have been waiting oh so (im)patiently. So that was the second part of the day to celebrate. But wait, it gets better.
We went to the mall after Chipotle and found our third thing to celebrate. We finally found a back massager!!! So, this may come as a surprise, but these suckers are difficult to find. Target doesn't carry them until Christmas (come on! Tell me who only wants back massages near the holidays!?). Walmart doesn't carry them. No one carries them. Enter stage right: Bath and Body Works. Highly overpriced, but there they were in a little basket in the very back of the store. SOLD! Our hospital bags are now complete. Whew.
Today was: an exceptionally good day.
That is what I feel right now.
Today we had our external version- the procedure where the OB doctor and midwife try to push a baby into the head down position when he or she is breech. It is such a weird feeling to be walking into the hospital to be admitted as a patient; suddenly my adrenaline is pumping and holding Josh's hand is a necessity. We start with a quick stop at Radiology for an ultrasound to make sure Baby P. is still breech. And yes, he is. We also ask for a quick check to make sure his male genitalia is still present. Thankfully, it is. I would've been a nervous nelly to find out he'd lost them somewhere in my uterus. :)
Next we ride the elevator up to my home base- the birthing center. But, like I said, it's not quite as relaxing when you are the patient. After a quick check in, I get to change into a hospital gown- wow those things are breezy on the backside- and hop into the hospital bed to watch some cable while they start an IV. (They set everything up as if we will need to do a c-section, as this is one of the possible negative outcomes of a version.) After my IV is in, they hook me up to the baby's heart monitor- his heart rate is running in the very decent 140s and my uterus is irritable. After around 30 minutes of monitoring, the nurse gave me an injection of terbutaline to relax my uterus and the ladies with the baby turning hands show up. Another quick ultrasound, baby powder dusted all over my belly, and it's time to convince this little man that he wants to go head down.
I have heard versions described in completely different ways. Everything from 'slight discomfort' to 'I would've never had one if I knew it was going to hurt like that. Just give me a c-section.' I found it to be the combination of someone giving you a deep tissue massage and an Indian burn at the same time. With Josh holding my right hand, my nurse holding my left, and the doctor and midwife shoving on the baby, all I could really think about was my breathing and trying to relax. I do remember hearing Josh telling me what a good job I was doing. And I remember when the doctor couldn't find the baby's head again halfway through the turn. I remember saying, "Oh dear, we've lost his head." And hearing everyone laugh. I remember my left leg flexing as the midwife's hands pushed across my tight left round ligament. I remember thinking they must almost be done and then them questioning if he had moved at all. A quick ultrasound showing that not only was he heading down, they were about to start pushing his head back up to the top! So they stopped that idea really quickly. We were done! He was head down and we simply needed to be monitored for the next hour to make sure everything still looked wonderful. What a feeling.
After arriving at home, I got to climb back into bed and sleep for the next 5 hours. Which was kind of fantastic, as the terb injection made me jittery and exhausted. And I'm probably going to go climb back into our king bed of comfort as soon as I finish writing this.
So, besides a successful version, what else could make this day better? We found out the new Chipotle is open- OH YEAH. We have been waiting oh so (im)patiently. So that was the second part of the day to celebrate. But wait, it gets better.
We went to the mall after Chipotle and found our third thing to celebrate. We finally found a back massager!!! So, this may come as a surprise, but these suckers are difficult to find. Target doesn't carry them until Christmas (come on! Tell me who only wants back massages near the holidays!?). Walmart doesn't carry them. No one carries them. Enter stage right: Bath and Body Works. Highly overpriced, but there they were in a little basket in the very back of the store. SOLD! Our hospital bags are now complete. Whew.
Today was: an exceptionally good day.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Happy Full Term, Baby.
So, it's been forever since I've blogged. But, in reality, I haven't felt I had that much to write about anyways. Life is moving forward at a pace that feels like a snail's slow, steady movement. And at the same time, I am shocked that it's already October and Baby P. is now considered full term. 37 weeks. It blows my mind.
Life changes? My belly is bigger. The nursery is ready and waiting. Braxton Hicks contractions now require I stop walking and wait it out. (Yes, they're still Braxton hicks, but they also happen to cause my right thigh to cramp up.) Josh now understands that every stop at every store requires a stroll through baby section to see if there are any other last minute items I need (want). Random strangers ask me when I'm due (and I love this... I've been waiting for this for quite some time!). They also feel compelled to tell me the worst labor stories they have heard (this I don't enjoy quite as much.) I grunt when I try to lean down, sit on the floor, get up, roll over, etc etc etc. I've finally gained the 25 pound minimum my midwives set for me. I have pitting edema when my shifts at work are over- which is actually quite entertaining on slow nights- how many fingerprints can I make in my leg before the first ones start disappearing???
I'm feeling quiet about life right now. Which is most likely God's faithful intervention to keep me from exploding with all the emotional ups and downs that come with the ending of pregnancy. See, Baby P. has been breech the entire pregnancy. Which is fine- common even. At 34 weeks, the midwives reported he was likely head down. Finally! He's in position and we're getting ready. But at our 36 week appointment, we discovered he is once again breech. At this point, it's getting kind of crowded in there and the odds of him flipping into position are starting to decrease. We started seeing the chiropractor every day and doing all the tricks- laying upside down, music and flashlight down on the lower part of my abdomen, a piece of ice near his feet- all the fun stuff. Apparently, he rather enjoys not hanging around upside down, as he's having none of it. So the next step is an external version- this basically involves being monitored at the hospital as they try to manually push the baby into place by pushing on my belly. They say it feels like a truck running over you. Which really made me feel confident as I signed the consent form. :) This is the last effort- if the version doesn't work, it appears we'll be having a c-section.
I think the hard part for me is the not knowing. At first I was incredibly disappointed by the thought of a c-section. Josh and I had wanted to have as natural a birth as possible- he opposite side of the spectrum from a major abdominal surgery. Obviously, our first priority is having a safe delivery and healthy baby, but this pregnancy has been absolutely perfect thus far- we didn't expect a wrench in the works at this point in time. Josh is fantastic- supportive and encouraging and accepting of whatever comes. I struggle with this a little more. The emotional ups and downs of "he's head down, he's breech, he might be head down, oh wait, he's still breech," over even a week have exhausted me. Which has brought me to a point of peace. The Lord knows this baby- He holds this baby in His magnificent, almighty hand- He knows when and how this baby will enter the world and every tiny detail about the coming weeks. And I can leave it at that. At this point, all I feel is joy at the coming of my baby, peace at however he makes his appearance, and tired. Also, I feel sudden, incredibly strong urges to go to the bathroom as this little man kicks and stretches his legs straight down into my bladder. Thanks, bud. I love you.
Life changes? My belly is bigger. The nursery is ready and waiting. Braxton Hicks contractions now require I stop walking and wait it out. (Yes, they're still Braxton hicks, but they also happen to cause my right thigh to cramp up.) Josh now understands that every stop at every store requires a stroll through baby section to see if there are any other last minute items I need (want). Random strangers ask me when I'm due (and I love this... I've been waiting for this for quite some time!). They also feel compelled to tell me the worst labor stories they have heard (this I don't enjoy quite as much.) I grunt when I try to lean down, sit on the floor, get up, roll over, etc etc etc. I've finally gained the 25 pound minimum my midwives set for me. I have pitting edema when my shifts at work are over- which is actually quite entertaining on slow nights- how many fingerprints can I make in my leg before the first ones start disappearing???
I'm feeling quiet about life right now. Which is most likely God's faithful intervention to keep me from exploding with all the emotional ups and downs that come with the ending of pregnancy. See, Baby P. has been breech the entire pregnancy. Which is fine- common even. At 34 weeks, the midwives reported he was likely head down. Finally! He's in position and we're getting ready. But at our 36 week appointment, we discovered he is once again breech. At this point, it's getting kind of crowded in there and the odds of him flipping into position are starting to decrease. We started seeing the chiropractor every day and doing all the tricks- laying upside down, music and flashlight down on the lower part of my abdomen, a piece of ice near his feet- all the fun stuff. Apparently, he rather enjoys not hanging around upside down, as he's having none of it. So the next step is an external version- this basically involves being monitored at the hospital as they try to manually push the baby into place by pushing on my belly. They say it feels like a truck running over you. Which really made me feel confident as I signed the consent form. :) This is the last effort- if the version doesn't work, it appears we'll be having a c-section.
I think the hard part for me is the not knowing. At first I was incredibly disappointed by the thought of a c-section. Josh and I had wanted to have as natural a birth as possible- he opposite side of the spectrum from a major abdominal surgery. Obviously, our first priority is having a safe delivery and healthy baby, but this pregnancy has been absolutely perfect thus far- we didn't expect a wrench in the works at this point in time. Josh is fantastic- supportive and encouraging and accepting of whatever comes. I struggle with this a little more. The emotional ups and downs of "he's head down, he's breech, he might be head down, oh wait, he's still breech," over even a week have exhausted me. Which has brought me to a point of peace. The Lord knows this baby- He holds this baby in His magnificent, almighty hand- He knows when and how this baby will enter the world and every tiny detail about the coming weeks. And I can leave it at that. At this point, all I feel is joy at the coming of my baby, peace at however he makes his appearance, and tired. Also, I feel sudden, incredibly strong urges to go to the bathroom as this little man kicks and stretches his legs straight down into my bladder. Thanks, bud. I love you.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
I'm a fan of my husband.
I've said it before, I'll say it again. My husband is just the greatest. You don't even know, and there is really no feasible way for you to find out unless you were married to him. And that is an opportunity I'm not going to give you. So, you'll just have to take my word for it.
To me, pregnancy has been somewhat like a second honeymoon phase. Except different. We know each other better and can communicate on a deeper level. We have dropped some of that "try to impress each other" act and can openly bare our deepest fears and thoughts and joys and concerns. And their is a tenderness, a feeling of complete empathy with and for one another.
I have never felt so deeply cared about as I have with Josh. And this is no hit on my parents or family. His level of tenderness and deep concern for me is overwhelming. Tears flood my eyes as I think of his commitment and steadfastness to me and our marriage. And our son.
I am spoiled. Spoiled by a man who truly considers me before himself. Who rigorously guards his eyes, thoughts, and heart. Who brings joy and completion to our home by simply being in it. Who softly kisses my shoulder or rubs my back when I'm tossing and turning at night. Who praises me for being such a good wife when the only thing I accomplished was vacuuming the carpet. Who puts away his studying or fantasy football to ask what he can do for me to make the evening special. Who reminds me of God's faithfulness. Even who God uses to bring conviction and growth and change into my life.
I am so, so thankful. For my husband.
To me, pregnancy has been somewhat like a second honeymoon phase. Except different. We know each other better and can communicate on a deeper level. We have dropped some of that "try to impress each other" act and can openly bare our deepest fears and thoughts and joys and concerns. And their is a tenderness, a feeling of complete empathy with and for one another.
I have never felt so deeply cared about as I have with Josh. And this is no hit on my parents or family. His level of tenderness and deep concern for me is overwhelming. Tears flood my eyes as I think of his commitment and steadfastness to me and our marriage. And our son.
I am spoiled. Spoiled by a man who truly considers me before himself. Who rigorously guards his eyes, thoughts, and heart. Who brings joy and completion to our home by simply being in it. Who softly kisses my shoulder or rubs my back when I'm tossing and turning at night. Who praises me for being such a good wife when the only thing I accomplished was vacuuming the carpet. Who puts away his studying or fantasy football to ask what he can do for me to make the evening special. Who reminds me of God's faithfulness. Even who God uses to bring conviction and growth and change into my life.
I am so, so thankful. For my husband.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Good grief. Where has the time gone?! Most likely I've used it up eating and sleeping, but I don't remember now. I suppose I should rehash some of what's happened in the time since I've last posted...
The day after I posted that Josh hadn't felt the baby move, he felt the baby for the first time. I don't remember much about it- the baby was moving around four in the morning, so I woke Josh up, grabbed his hand and placed it over the baby. The baby kicked and voila! Then Josh rolled back over and went back to sleep. I didn't know if Josh would remember the next morning, but he did. He's too classy of a fellow to dissappoint his wife by forgetting such a lovely event. :) Since then, BP (Baby Pattengale) has been a tornado inside me. These days we can just sit and watch my belly to see BP's movements and kicks. On the especially big movements, I can't help but yelp or giggle- people around me must think I'm out of my mind. Sitting on the couch staring at my belly giggling. It's a lovely time.
We also had our 20 week ultrasound. Apparently, BP is a boy. At least, that's what the tech said. She pointed to some picture and said "It's a boy! There is his ____." (We'll keep this rated pg.) We didn't feel too surpised by that- everyone except my grandpa was guessing male. It just seemed right. We are so excited to have a little boy. Josh is excited for sports and "father-son bonding." I'm just glad that I won't have to deal with girl emotions yet. I have enough of my own, thank you. Side note: I have cried at every mother-son wedding dance I've seen since finding out BP is a boy. At Josh's inquiry, I warbled, "I'm going to have to do that in twenty-some years! (Followed by more sobs and tears and unpleasantries. He responded quickly. "No you won't. Just don't allow dancing at his wedding!" Missed the point just a bit, maybe?)
I have been feeling really well almost the entire pregnancy. Besides being tired and having increased sciatic nerve pain (which was an issue for me even before pregnancy) I am feeling like one hot mama! I thrill everytime a stranger notices I'm pregnant, although I do have the evil desire to answer with, "No, I'm not pregnant. Why would you think that!?" I'm pretty much dying to try that just to watch the questioner's face. Of course, then I would let them off the hook. Haven't gotten the nerve to do it though. Maybe one of these days... (evil laugh).
I'm currently 28 weeks along. It blows my mind that in less than 10 weeks I will be considered full term. That is crazy and wonderful and incredibly scary. How does one make the final transition into becoming a mother? I'm sure it's a transition that takes place over time- the nights you are up all hours holding an inconsolable baby, the time spent in worry and the time better used in prayer, the sacrifices of time, finances, certain desires, self-will, and the knowing that it's all worth it. I have to constantly trust that the God who has always provided will continue. Otherwise, my finite wisdom and understanding will fall far short of the task ahead of me.
Goodness, I love my son.
The day after I posted that Josh hadn't felt the baby move, he felt the baby for the first time. I don't remember much about it- the baby was moving around four in the morning, so I woke Josh up, grabbed his hand and placed it over the baby. The baby kicked and voila! Then Josh rolled back over and went back to sleep. I didn't know if Josh would remember the next morning, but he did. He's too classy of a fellow to dissappoint his wife by forgetting such a lovely event. :) Since then, BP (Baby Pattengale) has been a tornado inside me. These days we can just sit and watch my belly to see BP's movements and kicks. On the especially big movements, I can't help but yelp or giggle- people around me must think I'm out of my mind. Sitting on the couch staring at my belly giggling. It's a lovely time.
We also had our 20 week ultrasound. Apparently, BP is a boy. At least, that's what the tech said. She pointed to some picture and said "It's a boy! There is his ____." (We'll keep this rated pg.) We didn't feel too surpised by that- everyone except my grandpa was guessing male. It just seemed right. We are so excited to have a little boy. Josh is excited for sports and "father-son bonding." I'm just glad that I won't have to deal with girl emotions yet. I have enough of my own, thank you. Side note: I have cried at every mother-son wedding dance I've seen since finding out BP is a boy. At Josh's inquiry, I warbled, "I'm going to have to do that in twenty-some years! (Followed by more sobs and tears and unpleasantries. He responded quickly. "No you won't. Just don't allow dancing at his wedding!" Missed the point just a bit, maybe?)
I have been feeling really well almost the entire pregnancy. Besides being tired and having increased sciatic nerve pain (which was an issue for me even before pregnancy) I am feeling like one hot mama! I thrill everytime a stranger notices I'm pregnant, although I do have the evil desire to answer with, "No, I'm not pregnant. Why would you think that!?" I'm pretty much dying to try that just to watch the questioner's face. Of course, then I would let them off the hook. Haven't gotten the nerve to do it though. Maybe one of these days... (evil laugh).
I'm currently 28 weeks along. It blows my mind that in less than 10 weeks I will be considered full term. That is crazy and wonderful and incredibly scary. How does one make the final transition into becoming a mother? I'm sure it's a transition that takes place over time- the nights you are up all hours holding an inconsolable baby, the time spent in worry and the time better used in prayer, the sacrifices of time, finances, certain desires, self-will, and the knowing that it's all worth it. I have to constantly trust that the God who has always provided will continue. Otherwise, my finite wisdom and understanding will fall far short of the task ahead of me.
Goodness, I love my son.
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