I wouldn't recommend it, unless you have a pretty mild and mellow child. Our July has been crazy busy, so busy that I still think the 4th of July is right around the corner. With a busy month, we decided to end July with a BANG! Saturday in Ephrata for a birthday party, Sunday back to Spokane for a wedding, then early Monday morning off to Illinois for a four day trip to visit relatives. But that's not where it ends...back to Spokane late Thursday night (early Friday morning as it turned out), one night in our own bed, then up Saturday morning to drive to Prosser...are we there yet? When do we sleep in our own bed for more than 6 hours? And when do we get to keep to the same time zone?
That being said, Nathan was awesome. Fussy only twice on the first flight into Denver, then slept the entire flight into Chicago, great on the bus ride into Rockford. Our four days in Illinois consisted of trying to see all our relatives around, that meant lots of new faces for Nathan. I managed to get a decent picture of him with nearly everyone. Traveling back home was not as successful, but I had to credit Nathan's great attitude and sleep schedule while we were out and about.
Would I do it again; yep...but if I had a cranky child I might second guess that.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
who am I?
I remember the first time I introduced myself as "Nathan's mom" vs. a wife, student, social worker, etc. It actually took me by surprise because it felt so forgien. Now, a year later, I feel a little more confident in my title as Nathan's mom, although there is a part of me that still seems to be missing; who am I? Perhaps I should be asking the question: who do I want to be? There are moments and stages in our lives where our 'title' changes, and this will continue to be. So who am I now, who do I want to be?
This second question is what has been weighing on me the most recently. Right now I am a stay-at-home-mom, a treasure that not all mothers, or parents for that matter, have the opportunity to be. So why can't I find joy in that? Don't get me wrong...I love the time I have with my son; I enjoy being the one to see all his 'firsts' and to teach him new thing, to sing, read, and dance with him. But there seems to be something missing for me. There are days, moments really, that I want to venture back into the workforce. I get excited when I find a job posting of a position I am qualified for. I complete the application or send in my resume and wait. But then I wonder, am I really ready? Do I really want to go back? Do I really want to miss those mornings dancing with my son, playing silly games, reading books, and seeing all his firsts? I don't know.
Some days I think it is pure selfishness: here I am blessed to be a mother, blessed to be able to stay home, and I am seeking ways to get out of the house. Peace, that is what I need to seek, peace with what i am given. Patiece to allow God's work in my life to prevail.
This second question is what has been weighing on me the most recently. Right now I am a stay-at-home-mom, a treasure that not all mothers, or parents for that matter, have the opportunity to be. So why can't I find joy in that? Don't get me wrong...I love the time I have with my son; I enjoy being the one to see all his 'firsts' and to teach him new thing, to sing, read, and dance with him. But there seems to be something missing for me. There are days, moments really, that I want to venture back into the workforce. I get excited when I find a job posting of a position I am qualified for. I complete the application or send in my resume and wait. But then I wonder, am I really ready? Do I really want to go back? Do I really want to miss those mornings dancing with my son, playing silly games, reading books, and seeing all his firsts? I don't know.
Some days I think it is pure selfishness: here I am blessed to be a mother, blessed to be able to stay home, and I am seeking ways to get out of the house. Peace, that is what I need to seek, peace with what i am given. Patiece to allow God's work in my life to prevail.
I used to be a writer...
Back in the day, and I am talking way back even before marriage, I used to write. There is even evidence...I have boxes of old journals. They are fun and somewhat interesting to go back and read. But then one day it stopped. My near daily journaling disappeared somewhere after college and before I met Tim. I would love to have record of our dating life and the beginnings of married life, unfortunately my thoughts just never made it down on paper. So when I became pregnant Ithought it the perfect opportunity to 'revise' my desire to write and document my pregnancy and life as a new mom. Ha! Who was I fooling?!
So here I am, 9 months after my last post, a month after my son's first birthday. I can only think of the cliche, 'where does the time fly?'
So here I am, 9 months after my last post, a month after my son's first birthday. I can only think of the cliche, 'where does the time fly?'
Friday, October 1, 2010
Where's My Paycheck...?
Going from working full time (usually more than 40 hours a week) to a full time mom has certainly had it's challenges, to say the least. Actually, I am scheduled to return to work (though just 2 days a week) the first week of November and of course that brings on a mix of emotions.
I recall back when I was in high school/college and began nannying part time for a family with one small child, both parents worked full time. The second child arrived soon thereafter. The mom took little time off work and returned back to her full work schedule while the baby was still so little. I couldn't imagine this and questioned why one would do this, certainly because I knew her husband had a very lucrative job; so I had a conversation about it. It was explained to me that she was a very independent woman and wanted to be able to assure herself that she could maintain herself and her family financially if something were to happen to her husband. At the time I didn't understand this concept, thinking a marriage is not two people working individually but two people who in essance have become one. So why was she working. Although I don't fully understand her entire rational, I have a better understanding of why.
I too am in a position where I could stay home full time (which I have done now for three months), so why am I choosing at four months to return to work, even if it means only part time? I think there are a few different reasons:
1. I have that independent nature about me and I think to myself; I worked hard to get where I am at and it makes me feel good to do the work that I do.
2. A little "adult conversation" would probably do me some good.
3. I want to contiue to further my career that I am passionate about.
4. Plus, there is this small voice in my head asking about my paycheck; what am I contributing finacially to my family.
So perhaps these are silly reasons, but they are mine, for now. Don't get me wrong, as exhausting as it has been being a stay at home mom, I have loved it. I love each moment that I get with my son. I don't want to miss our "breakfast conversations" and I don't want to miss his toothless grin he gives me just after he's finished eating. Those things alone are enough to keep me motivated to stay home, but there is something else, something inside seems to be yearning for something and I am betting that it's that gosh darn independent streak of mine!
Being home is so rewarding, yet exhausting. I now understand why my own mother never really "sits down" simply to relax...there is no such thing! I have found that there is always something to do. Not that there are really any new household chores (other than perhaps a few extra loads of laundry) than before I had my son, and they were completed when I was working full time; but there is something about putting them off until he goes to bed. Yeah, sure, I vacuum and dust occassionally during the day, usually during nap time. And I have managed to keep my house relatively in order (at least I think I meet the minimal standards), but why does it seem as though there is always more...? As much as I told myself I don't need to be "supermom," I think that is what I am becoming. For three weeks in a row (I know not a real long time), I have managed to, of course take care of my son, keep my house clean, and actually have dinner nearly completed all before my husband arrives home from work. The dinner thing has always been my weakness (even before a child), but I have come to realize that the hour between the time my husband gets home and we start bathing and putting my son to bed, it is a small amount of time that I can at least hand the baby over so they can play (gone are the days I think of waiting until my husband comes home to make dinner for me because I am so exhausted). My son is definitely turning into a "momma's boy" (which makes sense since we are home all day long together, even weekends are often just the two of us) but it makes me a little sad, I think my husband might be feeling it too. When he tries to give our son a bath, there is a lot of crying. I am not sure if I should intervene or not, but it is so hard to hear him cry. So my point is, if I can have dinner ready, I will so they can have more "bonding time."
Through all of this I am learning to count my blessings. My husband is grateful, is a good provider, and he is good about letting me know he is appreciative of me. But I cannot help but feeling a little guilty that I am not contributing at all to our family (financially that is). Yes, I know I am contributing, and do quite a bit, but it still feels like something is missing. For example, a couple of weeks ago we went shopping so that I could buy some jeans (I am tired of wearing elastic wasted clothes and have nothing that I previously wore that fits). Our shopping trip was successful and I came out with four new pairs of pants (yes, I can finally feel good about myself again and wear some real clothes!). Then just yesterday I ventured back to the store; I figured it was time to retire the "granny panties" that I wore throughout my pregnancy. Not that I am a big spender, nor am I a big shopper, but it almost felt odd that I was back at the store buying more clothings items for me...and with what finances? I know, I know, I am married and our monies are not separated. In fact my husband dislikes it whenever I bring up money issues suggesting that he makes all the money, or that he makes more than me with less schooling, etc. But I just cannot help but feeling my lack of financial contribution. I wonder how I shake this? Going back to work part time I know isn't the answer, in fact my main purposes of returning are really moreso for a little "sanity" and to contiue furthering my career (I am tyring to collect hours to become licenced; but that is another story) not for financial gain (my paycheck will perhaps cover daycare costs).
So I am wondering; are there other means? Do I need to retrain my thinking? How do I shake this independent nature that I developed over time? And how do I get a pay check for all the hard work I do at home? If any one can figure out how the government can start paying stay at home moms for their contributions to well rounded children and families, let me know.
I recall back when I was in high school/college and began nannying part time for a family with one small child, both parents worked full time. The second child arrived soon thereafter. The mom took little time off work and returned back to her full work schedule while the baby was still so little. I couldn't imagine this and questioned why one would do this, certainly because I knew her husband had a very lucrative job; so I had a conversation about it. It was explained to me that she was a very independent woman and wanted to be able to assure herself that she could maintain herself and her family financially if something were to happen to her husband. At the time I didn't understand this concept, thinking a marriage is not two people working individually but two people who in essance have become one. So why was she working. Although I don't fully understand her entire rational, I have a better understanding of why.
I too am in a position where I could stay home full time (which I have done now for three months), so why am I choosing at four months to return to work, even if it means only part time? I think there are a few different reasons:
1. I have that independent nature about me and I think to myself; I worked hard to get where I am at and it makes me feel good to do the work that I do.
2. A little "adult conversation" would probably do me some good.
3. I want to contiue to further my career that I am passionate about.
4. Plus, there is this small voice in my head asking about my paycheck; what am I contributing finacially to my family.
So perhaps these are silly reasons, but they are mine, for now. Don't get me wrong, as exhausting as it has been being a stay at home mom, I have loved it. I love each moment that I get with my son. I don't want to miss our "breakfast conversations" and I don't want to miss his toothless grin he gives me just after he's finished eating. Those things alone are enough to keep me motivated to stay home, but there is something else, something inside seems to be yearning for something and I am betting that it's that gosh darn independent streak of mine!
Being home is so rewarding, yet exhausting. I now understand why my own mother never really "sits down" simply to relax...there is no such thing! I have found that there is always something to do. Not that there are really any new household chores (other than perhaps a few extra loads of laundry) than before I had my son, and they were completed when I was working full time; but there is something about putting them off until he goes to bed. Yeah, sure, I vacuum and dust occassionally during the day, usually during nap time. And I have managed to keep my house relatively in order (at least I think I meet the minimal standards), but why does it seem as though there is always more...? As much as I told myself I don't need to be "supermom," I think that is what I am becoming. For three weeks in a row (I know not a real long time), I have managed to, of course take care of my son, keep my house clean, and actually have dinner nearly completed all before my husband arrives home from work. The dinner thing has always been my weakness (even before a child), but I have come to realize that the hour between the time my husband gets home and we start bathing and putting my son to bed, it is a small amount of time that I can at least hand the baby over so they can play (gone are the days I think of waiting until my husband comes home to make dinner for me because I am so exhausted). My son is definitely turning into a "momma's boy" (which makes sense since we are home all day long together, even weekends are often just the two of us) but it makes me a little sad, I think my husband might be feeling it too. When he tries to give our son a bath, there is a lot of crying. I am not sure if I should intervene or not, but it is so hard to hear him cry. So my point is, if I can have dinner ready, I will so they can have more "bonding time."
Through all of this I am learning to count my blessings. My husband is grateful, is a good provider, and he is good about letting me know he is appreciative of me. But I cannot help but feeling a little guilty that I am not contributing at all to our family (financially that is). Yes, I know I am contributing, and do quite a bit, but it still feels like something is missing. For example, a couple of weeks ago we went shopping so that I could buy some jeans (I am tired of wearing elastic wasted clothes and have nothing that I previously wore that fits). Our shopping trip was successful and I came out with four new pairs of pants (yes, I can finally feel good about myself again and wear some real clothes!). Then just yesterday I ventured back to the store; I figured it was time to retire the "granny panties" that I wore throughout my pregnancy. Not that I am a big spender, nor am I a big shopper, but it almost felt odd that I was back at the store buying more clothings items for me...and with what finances? I know, I know, I am married and our monies are not separated. In fact my husband dislikes it whenever I bring up money issues suggesting that he makes all the money, or that he makes more than me with less schooling, etc. But I just cannot help but feeling my lack of financial contribution. I wonder how I shake this? Going back to work part time I know isn't the answer, in fact my main purposes of returning are really moreso for a little "sanity" and to contiue furthering my career (I am tyring to collect hours to become licenced; but that is another story) not for financial gain (my paycheck will perhaps cover daycare costs).
So I am wondering; are there other means? Do I need to retrain my thinking? How do I shake this independent nature that I developed over time? And how do I get a pay check for all the hard work I do at home? If any one can figure out how the government can start paying stay at home moms for their contributions to well rounded children and families, let me know.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
The joys and pains of feedings...
Oh the highs and lows of feedings! For two months I breastfed exclusively.
No one tells you just how isolating breastfeeding is until you are in it. You are the only one who can feed and satisfy your baby. When baby cries, you are most likely the only one who can console him by feeding him. Feedings can take place anywhere in your home, but once company comes over you tend to cover yourself or hide away in the back room. Feedings in public are so akward that it's hard to calm down enough for baby to even get comfortable enough to get any milk. Yet at the same time, I wouldn't have chosen any other way. I am the only one who can feed and satisfy my baby, and this is an honor. There is an interdepedance that takes place; baby NEEDS momma and momma NEEDS baby. On occassion my little guy will look up and give me the best smile. Each momemt I get with him are treasured and precious. I can feed my baby in public, anywhere, and don't have to worry about bottles and whether or not I brought enough milk with us.
As much as I had grown this love-hate relationship with breastfeeding, I thought at some point we do need to learn to eat from a bottle (momma will be going back to work some day), plus if we can eat from a bottle, maybe daddy can help out a little more with those evening or weekend feedings so momma can get a break. So a few weeks ago we tried it; I was ready to hand over some of the responsibility. Daddy was ready too, to help out and feed his son. But baby was not ready...he cried so hard and refused to take the bottle (which was pumped breast milk) that I had to pick him up and put him back on the breast to feed him. As I sat there feeding my son, a sense of relief passed over me, not one that I thought would have. Wow, this child REALLY needs me...I want to be able to provide for him. But a second thought followed; wow, I am stuck, it looks as though there is no "mommy alone time" in the near future, yikes! So we tried it the next day and he sucked down that milk in seconds flat! Baby was happy, daddy was happy, and well, momma....not so sure. For a momemt I realized this child no longer NEEDS me, someone else can feed him. It actually took me a few days to be okay with this. For wanting help for so long, all of a sudden I didn't want help anymore! This means that our total dependance on one another is no longer.
Needless to say, a bottle was successful, but the amount of pumped milk it takes for one bottle is not worth the "nightly" feedings I had once imagined. Besides, I am okay with those nightly feedings now...becasue I know that one day they will be gone, and one day someone else can "help" feed my baby, I will no longer be "needed." Plus, the little smiles, giggles, and looks I get, make it all worth it!
No one tells you just how isolating breastfeeding is until you are in it. You are the only one who can feed and satisfy your baby. When baby cries, you are most likely the only one who can console him by feeding him. Feedings can take place anywhere in your home, but once company comes over you tend to cover yourself or hide away in the back room. Feedings in public are so akward that it's hard to calm down enough for baby to even get comfortable enough to get any milk. Yet at the same time, I wouldn't have chosen any other way. I am the only one who can feed and satisfy my baby, and this is an honor. There is an interdepedance that takes place; baby NEEDS momma and momma NEEDS baby. On occassion my little guy will look up and give me the best smile. Each momemt I get with him are treasured and precious. I can feed my baby in public, anywhere, and don't have to worry about bottles and whether or not I brought enough milk with us.
As much as I had grown this love-hate relationship with breastfeeding, I thought at some point we do need to learn to eat from a bottle (momma will be going back to work some day), plus if we can eat from a bottle, maybe daddy can help out a little more with those evening or weekend feedings so momma can get a break. So a few weeks ago we tried it; I was ready to hand over some of the responsibility. Daddy was ready too, to help out and feed his son. But baby was not ready...he cried so hard and refused to take the bottle (which was pumped breast milk) that I had to pick him up and put him back on the breast to feed him. As I sat there feeding my son, a sense of relief passed over me, not one that I thought would have. Wow, this child REALLY needs me...I want to be able to provide for him. But a second thought followed; wow, I am stuck, it looks as though there is no "mommy alone time" in the near future, yikes! So we tried it the next day and he sucked down that milk in seconds flat! Baby was happy, daddy was happy, and well, momma....not so sure. For a momemt I realized this child no longer NEEDS me, someone else can feed him. It actually took me a few days to be okay with this. For wanting help for so long, all of a sudden I didn't want help anymore! This means that our total dependance on one another is no longer.
Needless to say, a bottle was successful, but the amount of pumped milk it takes for one bottle is not worth the "nightly" feedings I had once imagined. Besides, I am okay with those nightly feedings now...becasue I know that one day they will be gone, and one day someone else can "help" feed my baby, I will no longer be "needed." Plus, the little smiles, giggles, and looks I get, make it all worth it!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
I am a MOM...
When I first found out I was pregnant was when I first began thinking (or so I thought) like a mom, but it wasn't until my little one was born that I really became a mom. I attended a Mom's Group in town yesterday and as we were doing introductions it occurred to me that my "title" has changed. I might still be a daughter, sister, wife, friend, co-worker, etc. but I am a mom first and foremost. Although this concept excites me...it's is a little scary as well. My identity has changed, people don't care "what I do" or "where I've been" or "what I've accomplished" anymore, they all want to meet me as mom and meet my son and know about him and how mommy-hood is treating me. It has only been 7 weeks of mommy-hood, although it already feels as though this little guy has been mine forever. The past 7 weeks have been exhausting and rewarding all at the same time, and there are many things that I am discovering about what it means to be a MOM:
* when a baby is born, so too are a mom's multi-senses (extra eyes and super sensitive ears)
* tiring and sometimes exhausting
* emotional (never cried so much so frequent)
* rewarding
* baby smiles can make the entire day perfect
* breastfeeding is isolating
* you never thought you could love someone so much
* you're no longer independant because you are sustaing life for someone else
* breastfeeding is miraculous
* whatever dad puts him in to wear to bed...that's okay
* I have never stared at someone or something for so long
* baby's nap time equals one of 3 things for mom - 1. nap, 2. eat, 3. shower
* it's okay not to shower every day
* showers really can take only 5 minutes
* baby smells are wonderful
* baby milk breath...sour
* my child is perfect
* I am not the perfect mom
* sometimes I wish I didn't know ALL the child development stuff I know
* silly songs come out of no where
* going to the grocery store and vacuuming the house don't feel like "chores" but feel like accomplishments
* sleep is hard to come by
* daddy sleeping while holding sleeping baby is precious
* baby crying hurts sometimes
* sometimes baby won't let me put him down
* sometimes I just want to hold and cuddle my little one all day
* never thought the hum of a vacuum or the sound of a humidifier would calm a baby
* never under estimate the effects of swaddling
* sleep...what's that
* my four-legged dog really did get pushed to the back burner
* eskimo kisses
* baby poop is a wonder
* don't forget to cover a little boy when changing a diaper...you're bound to get sprayed
* recovery from birth takes how long...?
* it's a miracle that this little one is 50%, 50% my husband, and 100% himself
* baby smiles are the best!
* when a baby is born, so too are a mom's multi-senses (extra eyes and super sensitive ears)
* tiring and sometimes exhausting
* emotional (never cried so much so frequent)
* rewarding
* baby smiles can make the entire day perfect
* breastfeeding is isolating
* you never thought you could love someone so much
* you're no longer independant because you are sustaing life for someone else
* breastfeeding is miraculous
* whatever dad puts him in to wear to bed...that's okay
* I have never stared at someone or something for so long
* baby's nap time equals one of 3 things for mom - 1. nap, 2. eat, 3. shower
* it's okay not to shower every day
* showers really can take only 5 minutes
* baby smells are wonderful
* baby milk breath...sour
* my child is perfect
* I am not the perfect mom
* sometimes I wish I didn't know ALL the child development stuff I know
* silly songs come out of no where
* going to the grocery store and vacuuming the house don't feel like "chores" but feel like accomplishments
* sleep is hard to come by
* daddy sleeping while holding sleeping baby is precious
* baby crying hurts sometimes
* sometimes baby won't let me put him down
* sometimes I just want to hold and cuddle my little one all day
* never thought the hum of a vacuum or the sound of a humidifier would calm a baby
* never under estimate the effects of swaddling
* sleep...what's that
* my four-legged dog really did get pushed to the back burner
* eskimo kisses
* baby poop is a wonder
* don't forget to cover a little boy when changing a diaper...you're bound to get sprayed
* recovery from birth takes how long...?
* it's a miracle that this little one is 50%, 50% my husband, and 100% himself
* baby smiles are the best!
Friday, July 9, 2010
My Own Story
As I have written before, everyone has their own labor and delivery story; and here is mine and my son's:
The final weeks of being pregnant became a little daunting, not because I was extremely uncomfortable (I was a little uncomfortable), but because I was anticipating being able to meet my new little one. A few weeks prior, I crossed over from being anxious and nervous about delivery to more excitment and anticipation. I knew that labor was inevitable, so was determined to look past what was coming and look forward to holding a new baby, my baby.
My parents were scheduled to arrived in town Saturday afternoon, but were actually in the state by Thursday evening. Their plan was to see me Saturday as pregnant as ever and then I could have this baby. My plan was not to wait any longer whether my parents were here or not. Well, our little one decided to listen more so to grammy than his mother (I hope this doesn't mean it will be like this all the time). We picked my parents up around 3:00 in the afternoon where they dropped their rental car. They were excited to see us, especially to see my really pregnant belly. We arrived back at the house and let my parents settle in, took a few pictures, and sat around and chatted about what our plans would be for the weekend. Not having prepared dinner we dicussed where to go out for dinner; Mexican it was! Around 6:00 p.m. I began feeling contractions, these contractions were different than the ones I'd been feeling for weeks, these ones were lower in my abdomen. I secretly wondered if they were the "real thing" but was afraid to voice my thoughts as if I said it out loud, it would not be true. After a few rounds of contractions both my husband and my mother caught on and asked if perhaps we should stay home for dinner. i declined the offer as I was determined not to sit around and wait for this baby, besides what if they weren't real. So a large Mexican meal I ate (if you know anything about delivery, the last thing you want to do is have a very full belly!). During the meal I progressively became uncomfortable and I my mother secretly began timing my wincing facial muscles. We joked at dinner about the reality of baby coming within the next 24 hours. Once we got home, rather than sitting and staring at one another in anticipation, we went for a long walk. I was walking to try to move baby, my husband and parents were walking simply to support my efforts. We played a game on our walk, to see how many contactions I could have in one block. There were pleanty.
By 9:00 that night it was pretty clear this was the real deal, the contractions were much more intense and much closer together. I was determined to get some rest so attempted to go to bed around 10:00. Laying in bed did not last long as it was so uncomfortable. After moving into several different positions around my bedroom, becoming jealous of my sleeping husband I decided to go out to the kitchen area. I knew my mom wasn't sleeping as she was so excited. I labored for a short bit in the kitchen area, my mom my support, timing my contractions, before she was certain I should be on my way to the hospital. I called the on-call doctor and sure enough we were told to get up to the hospital (a half hour drive). My anticipation at this point gradually turned into a little fear; oh my gosh, this is the real deal, and this is really painful!"
Two possible routes to the hospital, one construction, the other the Hwy. We figured the highway would be easiest. As we pull up to the intersection to get on the on-ramp both my husband and I shared a few curse words as our eyes focused on the red tail lights, backed up for miles. Neither of us had ever seen the highway at a complete stand still. Irritated, in a lot of pain, and determined to get to the hospital quickly, my husband flipped the car around, back tracked, then drove the construction route. Fortunately, no one was working on a Saturday night and there was no traffic, we made it!
We checked into the hospital and I was dialated to a 4! Yes, a 4 is way better than a 1, 2 or 3. We spent about 45 minutes in the registration room and they checked me again before moving up to a labor and delivery room. Dialated to a 6...wow in just 45 minutes, this baby is coming fast!
Once we got into our room the nurse brought in the anesthesiologist to prep me for the epidural. Anticipation and pain grew, so I was ready for an epidural. Well, let's just say, thought I was ready. Needles don't really scare me, so I wasn't too worried, I was just looking forward to a little relief...but full relief I did not get! Let's just say the experience of getting the epidural was not a pleasant one. There is nothing like a nurse holding you down in a crouched position while the doctor is pin pricking your back and both are repeatedly saying "don't move, just don't move." How can I bloody not move when I feel a contraction coming on, and wait, you just hit a nerve and now I have shooting pain down my right leg! Needless to say, the epidural was administered, only to work on the right half of my body! I'll spare you the details, other than two things; one, I felt half the contractions on my left side the whole time, and two, if the anesthesigiologist says something won't work, try try again! My only relief came when my wonderful husband suggested they turn me on my left side to hopefully utilize gravity to get some of the medication to my left side. He is a miracle worker!
Well, as predicted, the epidural slowed down my contractions to the point my husband got a goo nap in and I lay there in a dark room in anticipation. In the morning my parents arrived at the hospital. They joined me in my room and gave my husband a break to run and go grab some breakfast. Good thing he wasn't gone long. He got back to the room as I was beginning to feel some pressure. My parents left and the nurse decided to check me. Sure enough, she said it was time to push! The words I'd been waiting all night, all nine months to hear. So push I did and about an hour and 15 minutes later our son arrived.
This was an amazing feeling, so sureal and miraculous. It was amazing. We were in awe and in love immediately. The nurses were great and left the three of us alone to "bond" for nearly two hours before we decided it would be nice to get him weighed and measured!
Would I do it again...for the prize at the end, of course. Would I get another epidural...I initially hesitate, although hands down would have an epidural again. There is nothing like being about "rest" between pushes, and being able to talk with my husband and nurse and focus thoughout the whole thing. I just hope that next time the epidural will work on both halfs of my body! :)
The final weeks of being pregnant became a little daunting, not because I was extremely uncomfortable (I was a little uncomfortable), but because I was anticipating being able to meet my new little one. A few weeks prior, I crossed over from being anxious and nervous about delivery to more excitment and anticipation. I knew that labor was inevitable, so was determined to look past what was coming and look forward to holding a new baby, my baby.
My parents were scheduled to arrived in town Saturday afternoon, but were actually in the state by Thursday evening. Their plan was to see me Saturday as pregnant as ever and then I could have this baby. My plan was not to wait any longer whether my parents were here or not. Well, our little one decided to listen more so to grammy than his mother (I hope this doesn't mean it will be like this all the time). We picked my parents up around 3:00 in the afternoon where they dropped their rental car. They were excited to see us, especially to see my really pregnant belly. We arrived back at the house and let my parents settle in, took a few pictures, and sat around and chatted about what our plans would be for the weekend. Not having prepared dinner we dicussed where to go out for dinner; Mexican it was! Around 6:00 p.m. I began feeling contractions, these contractions were different than the ones I'd been feeling for weeks, these ones were lower in my abdomen. I secretly wondered if they were the "real thing" but was afraid to voice my thoughts as if I said it out loud, it would not be true. After a few rounds of contractions both my husband and my mother caught on and asked if perhaps we should stay home for dinner. i declined the offer as I was determined not to sit around and wait for this baby, besides what if they weren't real. So a large Mexican meal I ate (if you know anything about delivery, the last thing you want to do is have a very full belly!). During the meal I progressively became uncomfortable and I my mother secretly began timing my wincing facial muscles. We joked at dinner about the reality of baby coming within the next 24 hours. Once we got home, rather than sitting and staring at one another in anticipation, we went for a long walk. I was walking to try to move baby, my husband and parents were walking simply to support my efforts. We played a game on our walk, to see how many contactions I could have in one block. There were pleanty.
By 9:00 that night it was pretty clear this was the real deal, the contractions were much more intense and much closer together. I was determined to get some rest so attempted to go to bed around 10:00. Laying in bed did not last long as it was so uncomfortable. After moving into several different positions around my bedroom, becoming jealous of my sleeping husband I decided to go out to the kitchen area. I knew my mom wasn't sleeping as she was so excited. I labored for a short bit in the kitchen area, my mom my support, timing my contractions, before she was certain I should be on my way to the hospital. I called the on-call doctor and sure enough we were told to get up to the hospital (a half hour drive). My anticipation at this point gradually turned into a little fear; oh my gosh, this is the real deal, and this is really painful!"
Two possible routes to the hospital, one construction, the other the Hwy. We figured the highway would be easiest. As we pull up to the intersection to get on the on-ramp both my husband and I shared a few curse words as our eyes focused on the red tail lights, backed up for miles. Neither of us had ever seen the highway at a complete stand still. Irritated, in a lot of pain, and determined to get to the hospital quickly, my husband flipped the car around, back tracked, then drove the construction route. Fortunately, no one was working on a Saturday night and there was no traffic, we made it!
We checked into the hospital and I was dialated to a 4! Yes, a 4 is way better than a 1, 2 or 3. We spent about 45 minutes in the registration room and they checked me again before moving up to a labor and delivery room. Dialated to a 6...wow in just 45 minutes, this baby is coming fast!
Once we got into our room the nurse brought in the anesthesiologist to prep me for the epidural. Anticipation and pain grew, so I was ready for an epidural. Well, let's just say, thought I was ready. Needles don't really scare me, so I wasn't too worried, I was just looking forward to a little relief...but full relief I did not get! Let's just say the experience of getting the epidural was not a pleasant one. There is nothing like a nurse holding you down in a crouched position while the doctor is pin pricking your back and both are repeatedly saying "don't move, just don't move." How can I bloody not move when I feel a contraction coming on, and wait, you just hit a nerve and now I have shooting pain down my right leg! Needless to say, the epidural was administered, only to work on the right half of my body! I'll spare you the details, other than two things; one, I felt half the contractions on my left side the whole time, and two, if the anesthesigiologist says something won't work, try try again! My only relief came when my wonderful husband suggested they turn me on my left side to hopefully utilize gravity to get some of the medication to my left side. He is a miracle worker!
Well, as predicted, the epidural slowed down my contractions to the point my husband got a goo nap in and I lay there in a dark room in anticipation. In the morning my parents arrived at the hospital. They joined me in my room and gave my husband a break to run and go grab some breakfast. Good thing he wasn't gone long. He got back to the room as I was beginning to feel some pressure. My parents left and the nurse decided to check me. Sure enough, she said it was time to push! The words I'd been waiting all night, all nine months to hear. So push I did and about an hour and 15 minutes later our son arrived.
This was an amazing feeling, so sureal and miraculous. It was amazing. We were in awe and in love immediately. The nurses were great and left the three of us alone to "bond" for nearly two hours before we decided it would be nice to get him weighed and measured!
Would I do it again...for the prize at the end, of course. Would I get another epidural...I initially hesitate, although hands down would have an epidural again. There is nothing like being about "rest" between pushes, and being able to talk with my husband and nurse and focus thoughout the whole thing. I just hope that next time the epidural will work on both halfs of my body! :)
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