Doombot and I spent all day on Sunday the 13th getting the house ready for the baby to come. We did laundry, packed my bags, and got the rest of the gear installed/set up. Even though we were exhausted, we were both sure that there was no way we'd be getting any sleep.
We were scheduled to be at the hospital at 5:30 for my c-section at 8:00. For the first hour or so, there was really nothing going on. I sat there on the monitors waiting for someone to pay attention to me. There was some entertainment though, as the woman in the little cubicle next to me refused to be convinced that she was not in active labor. That was fun enough to keep me relaxed. I guess if I hadn't known for sure that I was done being pregnant before the next time my feet hit the floor it might not have been as funny.
At about 7:00am, everyone in L&D triage seemed to realize that I had to be ready to go in just an hour and the nurses swarmed me. At some points there were as many as four of them working on different body parts. I'd be signing a form while someone else put socks on me and another girl started an IV in my loose hand. It was all pretty overwhelming. At one point, I had my gown pulled up to my belly button with a nurse shaving my pubes when the male anesthesiologist walked in and introduced himself. There I was, shaking hands and learning about what would be involved in my spinal block while some strange girl shaved my crotch. It was pretty much at that point when I realized that this was going to be pretty sureal.
Once all the introductions took place, Doombot changed into his scrubs and we headed across the hall to the OR.
The first order of business was getting my spinal block in. This was the part that scared me the most. I had heard nightmare stories about the insertion being very painful and about having the block work either too well or not well enough. Honestly though, it wasn't bad at all. The Dr. talked me through everything and a felt little more than pinching and a kind of odd "funny bone" sensation in my hip.
Once I laid down and Doombot was able to come in and join me I felt a lot better. Just knowing he was in there was such a comfort. At that point the surgery started quickly, but it seemed to take forever. As I had anticipated, the pulling and whatnot that went on made me pretty sick to my stomach, but the wonderful Anesthesia doc took good care of me by both talking me through it and giving me the right meds at the right time.
Eventually, Orion was born! It seemed like it took forever for him to cry, and when they finally brought him over to me so I could see him for the first time he looked a little blue to me. Afterwards, I realized that it was probably just due to the white cheesy stuff all over him. I thought I heard someone mention that they needed to give him a little bit of oxygen in the OR, but nobody ever mentioned it again. The told me later that his Apgar scores were 8/9, so he must not have needed oxygen after all.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Nothing New Under the Sun
This post has nothing to do with pregnancy, babies, or parenting. But it's the only blog I've got and some shit has got to be said.
We moved to Florida from the suburbs of Atlanta over the summer before I started 10th grade. Without the benefit of school, the friends I made over the first couple of months were limited to the kids around the apartment complex where my family set up shop. One of these friends had a smoking hot older brother named Shawn. Shawn was going to be a senior, and had decided that as soon as his girlfriend returned from vacation he was going to break up with her. While nothing was promised, Shawn and I did a lot of flirting in the last weeks of summer vacation. My understanding was that once he could do the honorable thing and break up with his girlfriend, we would be together. What can I say? He was 17 and male (therefore an asshole) and I was a 15 year old girl (therefore an idiot).
The week before school started, I got a call from his sister (my friend). Girlfriend had returned home and had been dumped, as promised. I poofed up my bangs (hey, it was barely the '90's) and made for Shawn's house. What followed was an absolute disaster. Yeah, there was hooking up. But it was awkward and just kind of wrong. I was not completely inexperienced, so when he said "Uh, this isn't working," I didn't argue. I'd figured the same thing out already. I was bummed, but wrote the whole thing off to poor chemistry and went home. I later found out that he had no intention of dating me anyway. He just thought I'd be an easy piece of tail in between his girlfriend and whatever new adventures awaited him in the land of senior-bigshot-douchebags.
Fast forward a few months. Four? Five? I had settled into my new school and was making friends and meeting new guys. I started dating a guy named Scott. This relationship was way more in line with what you'd expect from a relationship between 15-year-olds. There were movies and milkshakes, some rollerskating, and even a couple of rounds of mini-golf. I wasn't in looooooove with this guy, but he was cute and I was having fun. The problem? He had a twin sister, and they were creepy close. Yeah, "that" kind of creepy close. Whatever. I was never going to be able to nail down the nature of that whole deal, so I decided to just stay out of her way. Trouble was, this twin sister had a a raging crush on a certain smoking hot senior-bigshot-douchebag.
Somehow, the Mean Girl network, headed by Creepy Twin Sister, got ahold of the information that I had, at one point, hooked up with Shawn. In spite of the fact that I had tried to do right by his girlfriend, waited until I'd known him for two months, and recognized a losing proposition when things finally went down, I? Was a whore.
This was news by me, and I guess the Mean Girls decided it would take a special kind of event to thoroughly convince me of just what kind of trash I really was. So, my "friend", Shawn's sister came over and "invited" me to Scott (and CTS's) house. Something smelled fishy, so I brought a couple of guy friends for back up. What followed looked almost exactly like this:
I don't want to take anything away from poor Victoria Lindsay. I walked away in much better shape than she did. I was scratched and bruised. I'd had chunks of hair pulled out, so there were some bloody places on my scalp. My shirt was torn off. When I'd finally made a break for it I had to claw my way out of the fray using a brick mailbox housing, so I'd torn some fingernails off in that process. I didn't need the hospital, but I was pretty messed up. The thing that haunts me watching this video is that I remember exactly how helpless I felt in the middle of this crowd of girls. Watching this, did you think that Victoria should have made more of an effort to get out that door? I can tell you, the way the social structure of high school is set up, she...I...didn't even think it was an option. These Queen Bees say, "No, you can't leave." It doesn't even occur to you that you have the option to leave. I stayed and was terrorized for almost two hours before I finally ran out the back door of that house. I even did some of Crazy Twin Sister's chores. It was when I ran that they really attacked.
But the powerlessness! How does a smart, pretty, talented teenager learn that she is so much less worthy than these "popular" girls that she will stay and get beaten rather than go against them? I left with other questions from that day too. Why didn't one of the adults that drove past as I was being beaten on the front lawn stop the car and help me? Why did my parents honor my wishes for them to not react to the situation? Who had let these girls think they could do this to another human being? Why didn't I think I was worth better treatment?
The interesting thing about how closely this situation mirrors my experience is that this new incident took place in my new home town, although so far all of my exposure to it has been through national media. No matter where I see the coverage, and for obvious reasons I can't seem to get enough, everyone keeps wanting to blame social networking websites. I guess they think that because the the trash talking happened on MySpace and attack was video taped for the purpose of putting it on the internet, these adults want to assume that the attack wouldn't have happened without the lure of celebrity and the anonimity of the internet.
People, wake up! Could Victoria and I be the only girls this has ever happened to? Of course not! Girls bullying each other is nothing new. Sure, like everything else, there are newer shinier toys to use to terrorize one another. But focusing on that leads to ignoring the real problem of just how evil girls can be to each other. Don't you remember being that age? We were horrible to each other! I think the internet just shines a light on it. Why can't girls value and respect each other? Why the competition?
It just makes me sick. I need to stop now.
We moved to Florida from the suburbs of Atlanta over the summer before I started 10th grade. Without the benefit of school, the friends I made over the first couple of months were limited to the kids around the apartment complex where my family set up shop. One of these friends had a smoking hot older brother named Shawn. Shawn was going to be a senior, and had decided that as soon as his girlfriend returned from vacation he was going to break up with her. While nothing was promised, Shawn and I did a lot of flirting in the last weeks of summer vacation. My understanding was that once he could do the honorable thing and break up with his girlfriend, we would be together. What can I say? He was 17 and male (therefore an asshole) and I was a 15 year old girl (therefore an idiot).
The week before school started, I got a call from his sister (my friend). Girlfriend had returned home and had been dumped, as promised. I poofed up my bangs (hey, it was barely the '90's) and made for Shawn's house. What followed was an absolute disaster. Yeah, there was hooking up. But it was awkward and just kind of wrong. I was not completely inexperienced, so when he said "Uh, this isn't working," I didn't argue. I'd figured the same thing out already. I was bummed, but wrote the whole thing off to poor chemistry and went home. I later found out that he had no intention of dating me anyway. He just thought I'd be an easy piece of tail in between his girlfriend and whatever new adventures awaited him in the land of senior-bigshot-douchebags.
Fast forward a few months. Four? Five? I had settled into my new school and was making friends and meeting new guys. I started dating a guy named Scott. This relationship was way more in line with what you'd expect from a relationship between 15-year-olds. There were movies and milkshakes, some rollerskating, and even a couple of rounds of mini-golf. I wasn't in looooooove with this guy, but he was cute and I was having fun. The problem? He had a twin sister, and they were creepy close. Yeah, "that" kind of creepy close. Whatever. I was never going to be able to nail down the nature of that whole deal, so I decided to just stay out of her way. Trouble was, this twin sister had a a raging crush on a certain smoking hot senior-bigshot-douchebag.
Somehow, the Mean Girl network, headed by Creepy Twin Sister, got ahold of the information that I had, at one point, hooked up with Shawn. In spite of the fact that I had tried to do right by his girlfriend, waited until I'd known him for two months, and recognized a losing proposition when things finally went down, I? Was a whore.
This was news by me, and I guess the Mean Girls decided it would take a special kind of event to thoroughly convince me of just what kind of trash I really was. So, my "friend", Shawn's sister came over and "invited" me to Scott (and CTS's) house. Something smelled fishy, so I brought a couple of guy friends for back up. What followed looked almost exactly like this:
I don't want to take anything away from poor Victoria Lindsay. I walked away in much better shape than she did. I was scratched and bruised. I'd had chunks of hair pulled out, so there were some bloody places on my scalp. My shirt was torn off. When I'd finally made a break for it I had to claw my way out of the fray using a brick mailbox housing, so I'd torn some fingernails off in that process. I didn't need the hospital, but I was pretty messed up. The thing that haunts me watching this video is that I remember exactly how helpless I felt in the middle of this crowd of girls. Watching this, did you think that Victoria should have made more of an effort to get out that door? I can tell you, the way the social structure of high school is set up, she...I...didn't even think it was an option. These Queen Bees say, "No, you can't leave." It doesn't even occur to you that you have the option to leave. I stayed and was terrorized for almost two hours before I finally ran out the back door of that house. I even did some of Crazy Twin Sister's chores. It was when I ran that they really attacked.
But the powerlessness! How does a smart, pretty, talented teenager learn that she is so much less worthy than these "popular" girls that she will stay and get beaten rather than go against them? I left with other questions from that day too. Why didn't one of the adults that drove past as I was being beaten on the front lawn stop the car and help me? Why did my parents honor my wishes for them to not react to the situation? Who had let these girls think they could do this to another human being? Why didn't I think I was worth better treatment?
The interesting thing about how closely this situation mirrors my experience is that this new incident took place in my new home town, although so far all of my exposure to it has been through national media. No matter where I see the coverage, and for obvious reasons I can't seem to get enough, everyone keeps wanting to blame social networking websites. I guess they think that because the the trash talking happened on MySpace and attack was video taped for the purpose of putting it on the internet, these adults want to assume that the attack wouldn't have happened without the lure of celebrity and the anonimity of the internet.
People, wake up! Could Victoria and I be the only girls this has ever happened to? Of course not! Girls bullying each other is nothing new. Sure, like everything else, there are newer shinier toys to use to terrorize one another. But focusing on that leads to ignoring the real problem of just how evil girls can be to each other. Don't you remember being that age? We were horrible to each other! I think the internet just shines a light on it. Why can't girls value and respect each other? Why the competition?
It just makes me sick. I need to stop now.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Zombie Babies
I have come to the conclusion that babies eat brains.
With my own entrance to the motherhood club looming large, I've started scouting out Mommy Blogs. I only read them if they're cool and snarky. And only if they have cuss words. I'm picky that way. Anyhoo. In the grand tradition of the internet, all of my favorite Mommy Bloggers have posted humorous fake entries today. Check them out! (I'll update as more come online)
Motherhood Uncensored
BabyCenter-Momformation
More BabyCenter-Momformation
What shocks me is not that these girls were creative enough to come up with these cute ideas. What shocks me is that the commentors don't get the joke. Are mommies, collectively, this easily fooled? Do the nights of sleep deprivation and days of Baby Einstein really leave us unable to recognize a simple joke?
I don't want to get stupid...
Help!
With my own entrance to the motherhood club looming large, I've started scouting out Mommy Blogs. I only read them if they're cool and snarky. And only if they have cuss words. I'm picky that way. Anyhoo. In the grand tradition of the internet, all of my favorite Mommy Bloggers have posted humorous fake entries today. Check them out! (I'll update as more come online)
Motherhood Uncensored
BabyCenter-Momformation
More BabyCenter-Momformation
What shocks me is not that these girls were creative enough to come up with these cute ideas. What shocks me is that the commentors don't get the joke. Are mommies, collectively, this easily fooled? Do the nights of sleep deprivation and days of Baby Einstein really leave us unable to recognize a simple joke?
I don't want to get stupid...
Help!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
When is it just whining?
Problem #1: I'm a little bit of a hypochondriac. I'm the type of person who comes down with any disease I read about on WebMD. I watch WAY too much discovery health, and I'd be more likely to recognize the symptoms of primordial dwarfism in my soon to be hatched offspring than I would be to recognize the common cold. If you want to find something on the Internet or TV to be scared shitless of during pregnancy, that something is pre-eclampsia followed by HELLP, possibly with a premature delivery and extended NICU stay thrown in for good measure.
Problem #2: I'm terrified to use the telephone. I don't even like to call my family and friends. Text messaging, IM, and email have been miracles to me because they allow me to be connected to the world without having to pick up the phone. I've often joked that if you gave me $20 and a telephone I would starve to death before I ordered a pizza.
These problems have combined to create one large problem that really has me kind of bummed out. I have all of the symptoms of pre-eclampsia at about 75% the severity of what would be required for my doctor to take action. My blood pressure is high, but not too high. I have protein in my urine, but not too much or consistently enough. My hands swell up, but then the swelling goes down. I have headaches non stop, but it's really pollen-y around here lately. Oh, and did I mention that I have a blood pressure cuff and my own protein pee strips that I can use to keep myself thoroughly freaked out? Yeah, I'm not a doctor but I did stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night.
The first phase of me being freaked the hell out was the "I'm too scared to call at all" phase. Doombot talked me out of that and I've been in a couple of times for various combinations of symptoms (with some pre-term contractions and lack of fetal movement thrown in to keep things interesting). Just when I started feeling all empowered to pick up the phone, I started to realize something. All of this stuff that seemed like a big deal to me? Not turning out to alarm the doctors one single bit. So I started to feel like a dumbass whiner for bothering them with it.
So I don't know what to do now that every one of the above symptoms has gotten even worse. The solution I've found so far isn't really working. That "solution" has been to dig in my heels in, refuse to call the doctor and to then bitch about it non-stop. Poor Doombot.
Ah, what the hell. Now I've started contracting again. I'll probably be in labor before the pre-e can kill me anyway.
Problem #2: I'm terrified to use the telephone. I don't even like to call my family and friends. Text messaging, IM, and email have been miracles to me because they allow me to be connected to the world without having to pick up the phone. I've often joked that if you gave me $20 and a telephone I would starve to death before I ordered a pizza.
These problems have combined to create one large problem that really has me kind of bummed out. I have all of the symptoms of pre-eclampsia at about 75% the severity of what would be required for my doctor to take action. My blood pressure is high, but not too high. I have protein in my urine, but not too much or consistently enough. My hands swell up, but then the swelling goes down. I have headaches non stop, but it's really pollen-y around here lately. Oh, and did I mention that I have a blood pressure cuff and my own protein pee strips that I can use to keep myself thoroughly freaked out? Yeah, I'm not a doctor but I did stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night.
The first phase of me being freaked the hell out was the "I'm too scared to call at all" phase. Doombot talked me out of that and I've been in a couple of times for various combinations of symptoms (with some pre-term contractions and lack of fetal movement thrown in to keep things interesting). Just when I started feeling all empowered to pick up the phone, I started to realize something. All of this stuff that seemed like a big deal to me? Not turning out to alarm the doctors one single bit. So I started to feel like a dumbass whiner for bothering them with it.
So I don't know what to do now that every one of the above symptoms has gotten even worse. The solution I've found so far isn't really working. That "solution" has been to dig in my heels in, refuse to call the doctor and to then bitch about it non-stop. Poor Doombot.
Ah, what the hell. Now I've started contracting again. I'll probably be in labor before the pre-e can kill me anyway.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Just You Wait
I try not to wear my infertility or my history of early pregnancy loss on my sleeve. First and foremost, I simply don't think people want to hear about it. It makes them uncomfortable because it implies all kinds of biological processes they'd rather not think about. Plus, the general public just doesn't know what kind of sympathy to show over the loss of a barely identifiable glop of tissue. Even if they feel terrible for me, they just don't have the words for it.
Talking to Doombot the other night I really started to reflect on how Orion's imminent arrival makes me tempted to say "no" when I'm asked if I've ever been pregnant before. People don't want to know if I've been pregnant before. They're asking me if this is my first child or if I've ever experienced what I'm going through right now. I've never been one of these girls who puts the dates I lost all of my "angel babies" on my forum ticker, but should I be doing more to honor them? Should I at least do more to honor myself for having endured all of that trial and error? All of that loss?
I've also started to hear a lot of lectures from well meaning friends who start in with the "Just you wait..." laundry list of all the ways in which having a baby will be a giant pain in the ass. I love these ladies. In almost every case, they've given more to me in the way of genuine support than I could have ever had the stones to ask for. But this? Makes me want to do a spit take. How can I have forgotten to let these wonderful ladies know that I have waited. And waited.
The first time I had an ultrasound to make sure I'd passed all of the "products of conception", Bill Clinton was still president. The first time I squealed with glee when a second line popped up on a pregnancy test, the World Trade Center was still standing. It was still there when I got fired from my job for missing time to have the D&C. It's been five years since I washed down the first fertility drug I paid full price for because it wasn't covered by insurance. It was a year ago when I gave up on ever being a mother and decided to move on with my life, and at 35.5 weeks pregnant it was 39.5 weeks ago when I had my last miscarriage. Have I waited enough?
I recognize that every one's world view is filtered through their own experiences. I also recognize that one of my biggest fears is to be seen as a whiner. Maybe that clash between other people's perceptions and my own secrecy has created an atmosphere where I have made it virtually impossible for anyone but my husband and my mother to avoid my emotional landmines. All I know is every shitty diaper I change at 4am will be a miracle in my world, and I'm choosing to see that as a gift.
I'll just wait.
Talking to Doombot the other night I really started to reflect on how Orion's imminent arrival makes me tempted to say "no" when I'm asked if I've ever been pregnant before. People don't want to know if I've been pregnant before. They're asking me if this is my first child or if I've ever experienced what I'm going through right now. I've never been one of these girls who puts the dates I lost all of my "angel babies" on my forum ticker, but should I be doing more to honor them? Should I at least do more to honor myself for having endured all of that trial and error? All of that loss?
I've also started to hear a lot of lectures from well meaning friends who start in with the "Just you wait..." laundry list of all the ways in which having a baby will be a giant pain in the ass. I love these ladies. In almost every case, they've given more to me in the way of genuine support than I could have ever had the stones to ask for. But this? Makes me want to do a spit take. How can I have forgotten to let these wonderful ladies know that I have waited. And waited.
The first time I had an ultrasound to make sure I'd passed all of the "products of conception", Bill Clinton was still president. The first time I squealed with glee when a second line popped up on a pregnancy test, the World Trade Center was still standing. It was still there when I got fired from my job for missing time to have the D&C. It's been five years since I washed down the first fertility drug I paid full price for because it wasn't covered by insurance. It was a year ago when I gave up on ever being a mother and decided to move on with my life, and at 35.5 weeks pregnant it was 39.5 weeks ago when I had my last miscarriage. Have I waited enough?
I recognize that every one's world view is filtered through their own experiences. I also recognize that one of my biggest fears is to be seen as a whiner. Maybe that clash between other people's perceptions and my own secrecy has created an atmosphere where I have made it virtually impossible for anyone but my husband and my mother to avoid my emotional landmines. All I know is every shitty diaper I change at 4am will be a miracle in my world, and I'm choosing to see that as a gift.
I'll just wait.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
My baby shower was today. It was over 10 hours ago, and I'm still in awe of the generosity my friends and family showed. Maybe it's because my wedding shower was such a complete clusterfuck, but I had no idea how moving it would be to see these women come together to celbrate me and my baby.
My cousin did an amazing job putting it together. She held it at a tea room in our little historic downtown. So, right away, there was an amazing atmosphere and the food was delicious. Fourteen people were there representing all aspects of my life, and it was really cool to see them all mixing together. Even though these ladies didn't have anything in common except for me they all seemed to have a good time. In fact, it turned out that one of Dannon's aunts and one of my aunts knew each other from high school!
I hate to make it sound like I'm most impressed by how many gifts I got, although it did blow my mind. It's more that by looking at the pile of gifts I realized how loved Dannon and I are and how welcomed Orion is. I don't usually feel like I'm part of a big, close family. That's made me feel (until now) like Dannon, Orion, and I would be on our own in a lot of respects. To know that these awesome ladies will be part of his world is a huge relief.
My cousin did an amazing job putting it together. She held it at a tea room in our little historic downtown. So, right away, there was an amazing atmosphere and the food was delicious. Fourteen people were there representing all aspects of my life, and it was really cool to see them all mixing together. Even though these ladies didn't have anything in common except for me they all seemed to have a good time. In fact, it turned out that one of Dannon's aunts and one of my aunts knew each other from high school!
I hate to make it sound like I'm most impressed by how many gifts I got, although it did blow my mind. It's more that by looking at the pile of gifts I realized how loved Dannon and I are and how welcomed Orion is. I don't usually feel like I'm part of a big, close family. That's made me feel (until now) like Dannon, Orion, and I would be on our own in a lot of respects. To know that these awesome ladies will be part of his world is a huge relief.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Thank God I'm Having a C-Section
I just got back from a doctor's appointment that included an ultrasound to estimate Orion's size. In short, he's huge. Overall, he measures about two weeks ahead and in the 92nd perctintile for weight at 6.5lbs (just shy of 35 weeks). The kicker is that his fucking head measures 42 weeks. No wonder my pelvis is killing me. It has the head of a kindergardner crammed in it.
In spite of this, and the slight rise in my urine protien, I'm still expected to carry him to the limit. In my case, the eviction notice will be served on April 14th, another piece of news we got today.
When I can get in front of a scanner, I'll post pictures. I got some great profile shots, along with a foot that looks like its sporting a giant monkey big toe. Good times.
In spite of this, and the slight rise in my urine protien, I'm still expected to carry him to the limit. In my case, the eviction notice will be served on April 14th, another piece of news we got today.
When I can get in front of a scanner, I'll post pictures. I got some great profile shots, along with a foot that looks like its sporting a giant monkey big toe. Good times.
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