Went to Yoga today and had a great class. What was way too easy in September was totally challenging today. I’m in very good spirits despite any silliness around me. I just can’t wait to meet her and hang out; feed her and dress her and bathe her. Hey I guess motherhood IS like playing Barbie. Especially when it’s a girl. I’ve somehow gotten my heart set on the name Raquel, even though J’s been rooting for that name for months. It’s grown on me and now I just love the uniqueness and the joy of the ‘el’ ending. Raquel Zara. So lovely.
It’s strange to look back on pregnancy now. It seems like a distant dream even though it was less than 2 months ago.
As with most labor stories, mine was not without a little bit of drama.
I was 8 days late, my amniotic fluid had been pronounced “low” and the OB was basically ordering me to be induced. I told the doctor I wouldn’t do it, and he was not pleased! But I had done my research and I knew that Low Amniotic Fluid scenarios are over-diagnosed and imprecise. I just KNEW my baby was fine and it made no sense to me that my body would be running out of fluid. That being said, I was not going to let it go beyond 48 hours, and my midwives agreed. Monday was the cut-off for a natural labor.
As much as I was glad I had gone with my own instincts, the doctor HAD scared the crap out of me and I was desperate. My husband and I both were pretty freaked out. If nothing happened by Monday I would get induced.
The next day, Sunday, my hubby thought I should try castor oil, the age-old trick for getting labor going. As he put it, “sitting around doing nothing isn’t getting us anywhere.” I found that quite amusing.
We had tried walking, sex, hot wings, and every other thing they say will make babies come. But nothing had worked. And it was getting frustrating. I thought I would be pregnant forever. And for some reason, taking castor oil just seemed like a waste of time. But I had to give it a shot. So out came the shot glass!
With dread (it has s reputation for being more than a little unpleasant), I took the first dose in the early afternoon. Jason came home with a beautiful present for me some time around 4 (some women get a ‘push’ gift, I got a ‘thanks for trying this nasty castor oil stuff’ gift) and AMAZINGLLLLLY, by dinner time I was in labor!!!
They were regular, kinda painful contractions, three minutes apart.
Were they real?! I was still in disbelief for some reason. I thought it was a false alarm or just cramping from the castor oil. But they stayed, and got worse! Hurray!
The midwives came over at 8 and watched me closely to see how much pain I was in. This was how they could tell how far along I was.
As the night progressed they hurt more and more. We played scrabble and I had a contraction every time it was my turn! Jason and I were sharing letters so he took the turns… The midwives said we should head to the hospital around midnight, so that’s what we did. They thought I would have the baby by 3 am. Boy were they wrong…
The drive to the hospital… was slow.
My husband had to drive snail pace because every bump on the road was like torture. Contractions! Ouch! We arrived at around midnight.
Once we were there it got pretty intense. Lots of pacing, a little puking, and zero sleep. At 3 am the midwives broke my water to speed things along but instead it slowed things down. My contractions had become incredibly painful and long but they were becoming less effective. Who knows why…. I guess stuff like that just happens.
They could feel the baby’s head. But I was stuck at 7 cm dilation. That’s when the midwives recommended I get Pitocin to speed things up. They called it “augmenting” — and by the time they recommended that I was about ready to throw in the towel with the whole ‘natural’ thing. To be fair, I think i would have continued with au natural if things hadn’t slowed. It was quite discouraging. After getting through 12 hours of natural labor, you kind of want to cross the finish line that way.
With them recommending IV fluids and Pitocin I figured I might as well get some pain relief…. and it was the best decision I could have ever made….epidural here I come!
Sweet Jesus it was the best feeling ever to not feel those contractions anymore. And as for the needle… they could have put it in my eyeball at that point. I really didn’t care. I just. Wanted. Relief. So yeah, I caved!! But only because they were cramping my style with the augmentation stuff (it meant I had to stay in bed… which made the pain a lot worse than when I was walking around.)
From 6 am to noon I lay in bed blissfully dilating from 7 to 8 to 9 to (ding!) 10 cm. The nurse came in and told me it was time to push but I couldn’t feel my legs or butt or any contractions at all, so I had to wait until the epidural was lowered. At around 1 pm I started the pushing. Legs up to my ears and seventeen people (it seemed) standing around my mostly numb lower half. My husband was on my right side, pushing along with me and I found that so helpful and comforting! There was none of that swearing and punching and squeezing his hand til the bones broke… I loved him the whole way through.
At 2:45 she was born. The sensation of having a human slide out of you … unbelieeeevably surreal.
She didn’t even cry, she just coughed a bit, looked around, and cozied into my chest as I held her for the first time. She was so beautifully perfect… alert… and calm. She looked at her dad, looked at me, and seemed quite happy with life on the outside.
10 weeks later, she’s still that perfect, alert, and calm little baby. She knows exactly what she wants, and we try our best to give it to her. The entire experience continues to be life altering in the most wonderful, beautiful way!
A review of Bringing up Bébé by Pamela Druckermana.k.a. Why you’ll never catch a Parisian mother with a Ziploc bag of Cheerios….
I should start by saying I’m a total francophile. I pretty much adore the language, the land, the people, and the snobbish culture that has endured and persisted despite global sophistication killers like le Big Mac and Paris Hilton. More than anything, I love the way they dress their babies… those knits!
So it’s no surprise that I’m a little taken with this book that spills the secrets of french-style parenting. A book that, incidentally, might help us all bring up better behaved, less bratty babies — and therefore preserve our sanity.
Think… a leisurely glass of wine at the end of the day because you can, not because you have to…
Bringing up Bébé is about how the french (once again) do things a little bit different, and maybe a little bit better. The book introduces crazy ideas like:
- Parents enjoying long adult conversations while their children play quietly. (Mon Dieu!)
- Birthday parties where 5-year-olds sit patiently at tables waiting for their slices of cake.
- Babies who sleep through the night at just 2 or 3 months old.
- Kids that act more grown up: The idea that kids don’t need you to applaud and entertain them at every second. Kids can learn autonomy, and will be more self-sufficient if they understand that while they ARE the centre of your universe, their universe is not the only one. Mommy needs mommy time.
- Civilized meal time: Eating is about flavor, taste, and the experience — not just food in, food out. French babies have a snack time once per day (4:00) and eat better because they aren’t noshing from morning to night.
and here, from New York Times
In other news…. Wish me luck! We may have a bébé ourselves by the time I post next. Somehow I think I’ll probably sneak one more in under the wire though. Hard to believe the pregnancy journey is nearly complete and the parenting one is just beginning. My first three months seems like a lifetime ago…. Time is about to start flying, isn’t it??
I’ve never related to bears before. Squirrel, sure. Industrious beaver maybe. Fast wild cat, definitely at times.
But recently it’s the polar bear that keeps creeping up in my mind; that playful tumbler, with her solemn expression of dutiful living, and that commitment to motherhood through anything – just 100% pure protection, nurturing, teaching, and cozy cuddling…. love ’em!
I even love what I’ve been affectionately referring to as my polar bear layer.
Before getting pregnant I weighed about 107 pounds. Now, I weigh 150! Ok, it’s true – I’m giving birth in less than 3 weeks (hear that baby? Not a day later! ok?!) so I’m about at my maximum weight gain but the crazy thing is – I don’t feel fat. I don’t feel like I’ve gained a huge amount of weight other than “the bump” which is taking up a large portion of my smallish body right now, and the layer on my legs and arms that makes them just a bit more thick and taut then they were before. Could be water, could be fat stores – but it’s not wiggly jiggly. And speaking of which. Guess how much weight polar bears gain in pregnancy? Wait for it…… yeah….. around 400 pounds.
I’ve just hit term today (37 weeks) and for the last few days I’ve had this tremendous urge to eat, like biologically my body knows that this is a crucial time for foraging because my baby bear’s coming soon and I will need the stored resources to feed her.
It’s so cool.
I think it’s made me a bit more relaxed about the weight gain, and even the pressure to be a perfect mom. Polar bears are instinctual providers, fierce protectors, and also maintain that good-natured ability to roll around in the snow with their little one. Why overthink parenting when the most important things are really quite simple. Eat, sleep, play.
Anyway, here’s a list of some other pregnancy spirit animals (or totem animals) and their qualities. Which one are you?
So I’m almost there…. and I’d be convinced I was giving birth to a traffic cone/small bear if I hadn’t seen that ultrasound.
Other than waking up unable to breathe right, pins and needles in my hands, and the sensation that my hips have been glued into some sort of cro-magnon position, I sleep fine!
No, sleep isn’t coming that easy, but it’s worth it, just to feel that small elbow, knee, foot. The sensation makes me almost weep with happiness.
And while it’s true that the things happening or not happening in the washroom are becoming more relevant than things that happen or don’t happen in the bedroom….I don’t really care!
I fantasize about nursery colors, rocking chairs and the importance of zoo animals….
Standing is like holding a small microwave. Sitting is like Jabba the hut. Lying down is like being under a bowling ball.
I’ve mastered this facial expression: Give-me-that-seat-cant’-you-see-how-fucking-pregnant-I-am.
The word MuuMuu comes to mind when considering what to wear….
I used to be civilized. Nowadays, whimpering, farting, sighing, and grunting, are all fair game….Pant removal is the second best part of my day. Bra removal is the first.
Not. Much. Longer. Right? Promise?