Resolving Timeline Issues

Archive for the ‘Generosity and Thanks’ Category

8

Posted on: July 13, 2009

In some cultures, 8 is considered to be a lucky number.

8 seconds (approximately):

IMG_0785

 8 days (about):

 8 days

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8 weeks:

8 weeks

 And damn, are we ever lucky.

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We had a birth plan. It went out the window really quickly. My plan to labour with only the help of nitrous went to shit when the back labour started. The only part of the plan that held was “we both get out alive.”

Friday 15th – we went to lunch and to see Star Trek (which rawked). My right foot and hand/arm swelled up and I felt absolutely huge. I was rather restless that night and neither of us got any sleep. Darren came to bed at 5am. I got up, went to the bathroom with cramps and found blood. We went to the hospital.

Saturday 16th – early morning I am declared to be in early, early labour and am sent home. Darren goes back to bed. I putter around and do things; in the afternoon the cramps get worse and move to my back. By 9pm I am in full back labour. Darren starts applying counterpressure. We go back to the hospital, and I am 50% effaced and Not Dilated At All. I cry and they give me a shot of morphine so I can get some sleep. I meet the Excellent Doctor who will deliver my daughter the next day.

Saturday 17th – I wake up at 5:30 am in full-on back labour. Seriously would not wish this on anyone. Darren is sleeping on the sofa. I make my way to the bathtub and labour in there for a couple of hours then make my way back to bed. I know I’m supposed to be doing things like walking and moving around but don’t dare try to make it down the stairs by myself. Darren gets up, my mother phones at some point (twice, actually) and suggests a caesarean. I talk her down the second time. I labour on the ball and on the floor on my side (per internet instructions to get the baby to turn around) until noon when I finally demand to go back to the hospital and say that I am Not Leaving Again.

Noon: I am admitted at 5cm dilation. They give me another shot of morphine which doesn’t help and put me on an IV drip later which takes the edge off. They break my water at about 1:30. Darren is applying counterpressure on every contraction with about 75% of his strength and weight. We try nitrous, which doesn’t help. Darren explains to the doctor and nurses that it feels like when a muscle is electrocuted and my muscles aren’t relaxing between contractions (hence, no relief).

3pm: I am at 9.5cm. Excellent Doctor is surprised all afternoon at how fast I am progressing and keeps asking Darren if this is my first.

4pm or so: I am at 9.5cm. Counterpressure no longer works and I am spent, and so very disappointed. Excellent Doctor says he has an anaesthesiologist coming in for a ceasarean anyways and suggests putting in an epidural, he’ll go do the c-section and then I can start pushing when he gets back. I waffle. I really was trying to avoid an epidural. Darren lets me know that its okay and that I just need a break. I consent to the epidural and apologize all over the place to Darren.

The epidural is put in (about 20 minutes – Excellent Doctor says he’s never had an epidural arrive that quickly) and I have a nap for an hour or so.

5pm or so: Excellent Doctor is pleased that I had a nap and just taking a break let my body do what it needed to do.

Me: Well, I guess my dignity went out the window awhile ago. Let me know when we’re ready to go.

Darren: Dignity left with Self Esteem!

Doctor: :snickers: We’re ready to go now. Push with the contractions.

Me: oh, okay. [push as I’m having a contraction]

Doctor: [madly snapping on gloves]

And then there was two hours of pushing and then she was here. And the memory of the last day or so fades and leaves sheer unadulterated joy in its place. 

Also to the doctor who said to me at 34  (or so) weeks gestation that I’d have problems losing the pregnancy weight? Please to #suckit. As of today, I am 5lbs below the weight I was at when I started at the maternity clinic at 8 weeks gestation and I gave birth 10 days ago.

Also Excellent Doctor has agreed to become our family doctor.

I had been trying to avoid an epidural, but in this case, I expect that if I hadn’t had it in this case, I wouldn’t have had the energy or the focus to push. I never once felt pressured into any sort of interventions.

Author note: I struggled with this. I often say, “You could fill a warehouse with the things I don’t know.” Today, for better or for worse, that warehouse has one less item in it.

I didn’t know, really, what it meant to be a parent, to be a mother. All I knew is that this life inside of me is continuing to grow stronger every day, if the kicks to my ribs and organs are any indication.

I didn’t know, for sure, how important it is for her to stay put for another 5 weeks or so, because I didn’t know what RSV was and how it can affect premature babies. All I knew was that I don’t like being pregnant.

I didn’t know what it meant to have your heart shatter into a million pieces at the mere thought of losing your child, whether born or unborn.

I didn’t know how the attachment between mother and child worked or what it really meant. I don’t know how to put that into words. But I get it now.

I didn’t know her. I don’t know them. I stop by their blog sometimes and skim but I don’t really spend any time there.

I still don’t know, for sure, how they feel. And quite honestly, I don’t want to know.

Take a moment and visit here and leave a comment or a link to your own post. Make a donation to the March of Dimes  or the paypal account to help Heather and Mike through this so that they don’t have to worry about money.

Heather’s blog, The Spohrs Are Multiplying, may or may not work. There have been some problems with her bastard hosting company and the blog is running off the kindness of other bloggers at the moment.

We knew this Christmas was going to be “the baby Christmas.” Not baby as in “mini” but baby as in the spawn I am growing in my uterus that likes to kick my bladder new life we have lovingly created.

Sure enough, my parents got us a Graco travel system, a bassinet, baby blankets and a changing pad. I have to say that the stroller is pretty snazzy, collapses easily and comes with the infant car seat that we need in order to take the poptart home. Because 4 inch foam in the back of the Fit just won’t cut it any more.

Then we went to the inlaws who adore me, and I think they’re pretty cool too. They’re incredibly generous, kind people, with potty mouths. They usually give three different kinds of gifts, one of which is cash and don’t even get me started on that because every year it is Way Too Much.

The first kind of gift is a stocking, which consists of a lot of personal toiletry items. The first Christmas Darren and I spent together was the second time I’d met them. And they gave me this stocking with toothpaste, shampoo, deoderant, gum, etc in it. I was surprised and couldn’t help but think, “Are they trying to tell me something?”

That Christmas, as we were driving back to Darren’s condo, he said, “You know, the stocking means they like you. [Ex-witch] never got one.” To which I responded, “Oh good! I thought they were trying to tell me something!” (which kind of goes along with this post that I read at Motherhood Uncensored but I think I have a slightly different relationship with my inlaws then she does with hers).

So the stocking this year again had deoderant, toothpaste, etc. in it. And then there were the under-the-tree gifts, which were numerous: pajamas, and socks, and other incredibly useful things.

Moral of the story? Take presents as generosity – don’t read anything into it; people often mean the best but don’t realize how it comes across.

And even if they do mean it otherwise, it is Christmas; and what does a little goodwill cost you?


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