Well baby girl, this is long over due. I had every intention of doing a weekly blog after you were born, but that (along with my visions of becoming a domestic goddess, catching up on the New York Times bestseller list, and maybe doing a few dozen Pinterest crafts) was quickly trumped by the reality of motherhood. Though I’ve done more loads of laundry in the past 4 months than in the past 20 years, I’m far from a domestic goddess. I read 3 pages of The Book Thief before I fell asleep (oh, precious sleep), never to return to it again. I haven’t even looked at Pinterest in months and the thought of crafting something is hysterical (all things you need in life you can buy on amazon; crafts, HA!). And the blog, well, better late than never. I’m typing this on my iPhone, on the glider in your room in between rounds of sticking your pacifier back in your mouth in an attempt to get you to nap. I’m going to try my best to summarize the crazy, amazing, difficult, wonderful, best-of-my-life first moments with you while I can still remember some of the little details, because you’re growing and changing faster than I ever imagined.
I’ll start where I left off, back at 49 weeks pregnant…
I never posted a 40 week blog. I was swollen overtired, uncomfortable and so ready to meet you. I did take a belly picture, at 12am, in my underwear (I’ll spare you that one), right before sitting on the edge of the tub and trying to massage the pressure points by my ankles in an attempt to induce labor.
I went to sleep shortly after and woke up an hour later with what I though were bad diarrhea craps (I know, over share. If i had any qualms about poop talk before, I REALLY have none now.). I went to the bathroom and nothing was happening. I thought I might be having contractions but didn’t want to wake your dad up at at 2:30am for a poop false alarm. About an hour later the waves of pain were coming more frequently. I woke your dad up and we started timing the contractions. They were about 2 and a half minutes apart and increasing in length. Over the next several hours I tried laying, sitting, squatting, the exercise ball, the tub (for 5 seconds before starting a pukefest), and at about 5am I finally insisted we call the midwife and haul my soon-to-be-not-so-pregnant butt to the hospital. We got there around 6 am. I promptly puked all over your dad’s car door upon arrival. We walked into the emergency room entrance and asked for a wheelchair since I was reeling in pain every 2 minutes. It took FOREVER for a someone to arrive with a wheel chair…I think I had a dozen contractions on the floor of the waiting room…and a half a dozen more on the way up to the birthing center. When we got settled into a room the midwife checked and I was between 6 1/2 and 7 cm dilated…at that point I thought I might be able to make it without an epidural. A few hours, some weird nurses, numerous tries to get an IV into my arm, a trip to the jacuzzi tub, and a bazillion contractions later, I was at 8cm and requested an epidural. The anesthesiologist was a total tool but once, after some adjustment of the placement, the epidural started to work I would have accepted him as my new best friend. I was able to have a conversation again, grandma and grandpa popped in for a minute to say hello, and the next couple of hours passed quickly and it was time to push before I knew it. They turned off the epidural so I could feel the contractions again and knew when to push. I pushed for 4 hours! I could see your head with a mirror. We knew you had mommy’s brown hair and probably her stubborn personality because you didn’t want to budge! The midwife brought in an OB to use the “vacuum” (it’s really a little suction cup; we didn’t Hoover you out) to help you on your way. They lifted you onto my chest, I held you, stared at you in amazement, and sobbed a little. Your dad sobbed a lot (he did that at our wedding too). 🙂
After getting settled, your first meal, and some snuggles, you got to meet your grandparents, your Uncle Mark and, later that night, Aunt Tara.
24 hours, numerous nurse/midwife/pediatrician/lactation consultant/who knows what other kind of specialist check-ins later, we were good to go.
I sat in the back seat with you on the 15 min drive home, like the crazy person I swore I was not going to be…but you were so little, it looked like you were swimming in the car seat, and I kind of just wanted to stare at you forever.
When we got home Tiger immediately sniffed you out and then went about his business fairly unfazed.
In the weeks that followed, you had many friends and family come to visit and cuddle you.
Your dad and I continue to be amazed by you each day. We feel so very lucky to be your parents.
