Today when Iris’ eyes finally closed and she drifted off during a nap, something unexpected happened. I allowed myself to let go of all of the fear, the weight of responsibility of raising a girl that colors every interaction with her. I found myself weeping with joy. I have a beautiful, perfect daughter. It doesn’t have to be so scary. I’m going to be conscious of not letting that fear grip me any more.
I have nothing at all to write about right now. I am absolutely NOT going to write about how I got the best night sleep I’ve had in months last night. OR about how both kids went to bed in their own room (the same room) before 9pm. And I’m absolutely, positively unable to share the fact that Iris did not wake up once after midnight and slept until 9:30 in her crib. (although Ellis crept in bed with us in the night) I’m not going to do that because Lord have mercy I’m terrified it might never happen again.
Ya’ll. I have so much to say. All day I have these fleeting moments of thoughts that I want to write about, explore, and that really deserve some attention.Here’s the problem. I made the rookie mistake of telling the internet how great my baby sleeps. Don’t. Ever. Do. That.She’s already down to ONE SHORT NAP during the day, and now when she goes to sleep at night it’s just like another series of naps. It’s a lucky night when we have more than an hour to ourselves without having to do the bedtime routine all over again. I’m just hoping it’s only teething. (she’s also thisclose to crawling!!!)Also, I’m training for a half marathon. On zero hours of sleep. And zero hours of down time. And I have barely spent any time with my husband. And Ellis has a fever and sore throat.I’m busy, is what I’m saying. But! Gonna try to spend more time on ye ole blog.
This morning our room was filled with the soft blue light of a cloudy dawn. Kent was snoring softly. Ellis was snuggled tightly into my back having made his way into our room, as he does most nights, around 3. Iris had woken to eat, and having had her fill stayed awake for a while instead of dropping back off to sleep as she usually does. She began to coo softly, her voice a perfect compliment to the hour. Then, as she quietly finished her song, we both dropped off to sleep.
Today our little Iris is 2 months old. She is 11 pounds and 25 inches long. Her hair is curling up, and her personality is blossoming. She has become part of the fabric of my soul. Tonight I’m going to sit down and write a little bit about how she has changed our family so much for the better. But in the meantime, here is my angel girl from 4 to 8 weeks.
I just sat down to tell you a little bit about my darling little flower, and she just woke up hungry and farted as loud as her father. I can’t wait to share her with you, but it will have to wait a little bit longer.
Part 1: Labor and delivery
The Tuesday before I gave birth to you, my sweet little girl, I went for my 39 week checkup with my midwife. There, she checked my cervix and said I was 1 cm dilated but my cervix was still very thick. After asking if I wanted her to try and get things going a little, (hell yes) she opened my cervix another centimeter, told me I could insert primrose oil at night and to have lots of sex then sent me home to wait. I am not good at waiting for anything. I was so uncomfortable at that point that I could have sworn you were going to be 11 pounds. I tried everything I could google to start labor. I tried acupressure. I tried spicy food. I tried sex. I tried the primrose oil. I tried walking, and walking, and walking. I must have circled our block 30 times that week. I tried nipple stimulation. I tried so many things that I have no idea which one, if any of them worked. I had strong contractions here and there. I had regular contractions a few times, always followed by bloody show. Each time I refused to get exited. I refused to believe any of it would lead into actual labor. If I got my hopes up, surely I’d be proven wrong.
Just about everyone I spoke to in those last few weeks rolled their eyes when I said I hope you’d come on your due date (or earlier). They had to be induced, they had a friend who had to be induced, no one was lucky enough to pop early. Even the lady who checked me out at 7-11 had an opinion. You weren’t low enough in my belly for me to have you on Saturday, she said. I think maybe you arrived on your due date just to prove them all wrong.
Early Friday morning as I slept I had lots of really strong contractions. They were strong enough to wake me up each time, but again, they were unpredictable and far generally apart. When I got out of bed that morning, I just felt like something was different with my body. Nothing I could put my finger on, but something was changing, something was happening. It was hard for me to sit down because I was so uncomfortable. But I wanted to spend some time one on one with your brother so we played on the deck in the warm sun. Then I started having more regular contractions. About two an hour. Your dad was home with us that day, just in case you decided to make an appearance and he was able to play with Ellis in the yard while I laid down on the deck beneath the blossoming cherry tree watching and concentrating on willing more contractions.
Right around 5pm I started having stronger, more frequent contractions. These were about 15 to 20 minutes apart and so strong I had to hang on to whatever was nearby just to get through them. Still, I insisted on another walk around the block. Followed by pacing on the deck while Yaya made us some grub. By this time your brother was having a difficult time of it. He was mad that his mama couldn’t play with him, and he was mad that his dad was having to take care of mama too. Every time I put my arms around your dad’s neck and leaned on him for support during an increasingly frequent contraction, he ran into the space between us to be a part of the “family hug”. I think he sensed what was coming.
Between bites of dinner, I walked. Walking and standing seemed to lessen the pain of contractions. Plus if I sat down I had to stand back up, and every time I stood back up I had very painful contractions. By the time we were done with dinner the contractions were 5 to 7 minutes apart. I made sure they staid that way for an hour before calling the midwife. Kent called her around 7 and explained what was happening. She said it sounded promising, but wished the contractions were getting stronger. Since we live so far away from where you were born, she thought it was wisest to go to the hospital to get checked. At that point your dad ran around grabbing bags and your brother followed me around trying to get me to hold him. It took about an hour to get out of the house and by that time I was grabbing for a trash can to puke in, the contractions were getting so intense, albeit still 5-9 minutes apart.
On the way to the hospital (a 35 minute drive) I only had 3 contractions (oh, but were they ever intense). I knew that I wouldn’t be getting admitted before we even stepped foot in the building. Sure enough, the intake nurse checked me and said I was only 3 centimeters and 80% effaced. She then proceeded to tell me I was laboring wrong, and breathing wrong, and making myself ill, and that I would have no strength to push because of the way I was dealing with all these pussy contractions. OK, so I’m paraphrasing. Since you have to be 4 centimeters dilated to be admitted, my midwife suggested we stay close by and come back in if we needed to. Happily the hospital provides a little hotel for patients and their families right across the street for 20 bucks. The intake nurse told me to take an Ambien so I could sleep since I was only in very early labor and hardly going to be coming back any time soon. I curse that stupid Ambien.
By the time we arrived at our little hotel (Yaya and Ellis were there too, but in a different room), it was late, around midnight I think, and I was OUT OF IT. Thanks Ambien. Right about the moment my head hit the pillow, my contractions got super strong and right on top of one another. So I was falling dead asleep between them for a couple minutes, only to be woken up in serious pain during each contraction. It was a shock to be woken up like that every single time, and as a result, I couldn’t find a rhythm. I couldn’t think of any of the relaxation techniques we’d studied. I was in a complete fog. Finally I got out of bed and into a warm bath. That was the only thing that dulled the pain, but I was still falling asleep between contractions which scared Kent, so I didn’t stay in for very long. After getting out of the bath I felt like I was in continuous pain. Everything from my boobs to my knees hurt, and every time I moved I got another contraction. At this point it was around 3am and Kent was asleep. He thought, based on the intake nurses reactions, that we were still days away from having a baby. Finally at 4am I couldn’t take it any more. I woke him up and said “If I don’t get an epidural now I AM GOING TO DIE.” (I was in pain from the contractions, but I was also completely paranoid that my uterus was going to rupture any second and I wouldn’t know it. I really wanted to be monitored by people who knew what they were doing.) So we went back across the street to the hospital.
This time I was (almost) 4 centimeters and 95% effaced. But this intake nurse determined that I should be admitted, and suggested as much to the midwife, who thankthelord agreed. The new intake nurse was nothing but supportive and I can’t tell you what a difference that made. Once admitted I got the epidural straight away, it took no time at all for the anesthesiologist to arrive. My midwife arrived at the same time, and I was finally able to let go of some of that anxiety. Kent and I were left mostly alone for the next 4 hours, and we were both able to sleep. Every once in a while someone would come in and turn me over and check my progress, and other than that I was completely relaxed. I should say here that I had been hoping to go drug free and was disappointed with myself for giving in and getting an epidural so soon. But I truly feel like getting help with the pain is what allowed me to be completely present and calm and at peace for your birth.
Around 7am my midwife checked me and my water broke during that exam. I was about 7cm at that point. She said my contractions were slowing down and were back to 7 minutes apart, (one reason I didn’t want an epidural) and suggested we try pitocin. Kent was such a wonderful advocate for me at that point. He knew I didn’t want pitocin, and told her that since my water had just broken we wanted to wait and see if that helped move things along instead of introducing another drug. Two hours later I was ready to push with no extra help from pitocin and those contractions staying that far apart. Everyone seemed surprised at how strong the contractions must have been.
I felt pressure which I knew meant it was getting close to pushing time, but I felt no uncontrollable urge to push, and no pain. At that point I just did what the midwife told me to do, and after about 5 pushes, your dad caught your head, I pulled you the rest of the way out and brought you to my chest. You screamed a gurgling scream and stole our hearts. We laid skin to skin like that, you and I, for an hour before they did any weighing and measuring. We snuggled while I birthed the placenta, and while I was stitched (first degree tear), and cleaned. I memorized every bit of your little hands and marveled at your brown hair. When I was decent again, Yaya and your brother came to meet you, just minutes after you were born. Ellis was smitten with you from the moment he saw you, little girl. He helped measure you, and hopped in the bathtub to help give you your first bath. I got to see and listen to it all.
The experience of your birth was magical. It was incredibly healing for me. I wouldn’t change one thing about that day if I could. Even now I have a hard time finding adequate words to describe how amazing it is that I was able to experience this miracle exactly as I wanted to. I have a feeling that your birth is just the beginning of that you reminding me that anything is possible. Thank you little girl. For everything.
Ellis goes to bed around 9. Exactly the same time Iris wakes up hungry. After Ellis is finally asleep Iris is wide awake until about midnight. Which is to say, I have had no time to write a birth story. I have one paragraph down so far but I’m not sure how long it’s going to take me to finish it. Iris’s birth was everything I’d hoped and dreamed it would be. Peaceful, lovely, and easy on mama. I’ve had no recovery to speak of. I was up and around that afternoon and was 100% a week later. We are running on Duncun Donuts coffee just like that stupid commercial says. I’m hoping to spend some time finishing the birth story on Thursday when Ellis is in school.In the mean time, here’s what our days are like now. Thank you everyone for all your calls and well wishes. They mean the world to me.
Three things I am ridiculously thankful for today:
1. an epidural
2. caffeine
3. newborn feet
I am so in love with my little girl, what was I worried about?
Hi. Um, so what’s new? I’ve been in bed for basically the last three weeks trying to kick a sinus infection. It’s annoying when people think you’re just complain-y because you’re super pregnant and not actually because you’re sick. It’s especially annoying when those people are medical professionals. I was so sick I missed two weeks of Lost because I didn’t have the energy to sit up and watch television. After two weeks of feeling under the weather and one week of feeling like I was going to die (no really), and being told it was just a cold, or it was viral, or to just get rest and wait it out, I finally went to a different doctor who diagnosed me with acute sinusitis and gave me the appropriate dosage of antibiotics. I felt a little better the same day. I have actually been able to sleep, and I might truly have the strength to birth this baby. Thank God.Last night I started feeling a little panicky about the VBAC. I know the chances of us dying are very low, BUT, still I worry that what I thought was the best decision for our family might turn out to be the worst. Plus Iris has been taking longer stretches between moving around a lot which is freaking me out. I’m just so ready to be on the other side of the birth so I can see her, and know she’s well, and get to know her.Hey, I turned 31 a few days ago. I spent it in bed fighting that “virus”. I did manage to drag my butt to dinner where I proceeded to go to the restroom about 45,000 times to blow my nose, cough up a lung or pee. Also Ellis managed to pee all over the bench, his pants and the floor. It was pretty much the best birthday dinner I’ve ever had. The food was pretty sucky to. But! I got some awesome pink cat eye vanity glasses that I adore and will show you as soon as I get them straightened. My lovely husband got me a Buddha statue for the garden that I’d been eyeing. Would have been better if I’d been well though.So not a comprehensive (is that even right? probably not) thought to be found in this head apparently. Sorry you had to be subjected that. We’ll talk when this baby is on the outside, eh?
