Time.

WHY AM I SO BAD AT THIS BLOG THING?

It's this time of year, a lot of it. Last year I was still on maternity leave during the pre-holiday heavy workload time of year, so I could write infinite posts full of Tycho pictures, but this year I got a promotion and I'm so busy at work and I have a toddler at home and I can't just type with one hand while nursing anymore. I want to blog because I want to capture my life right now because I know that next year (or even next month) I will have forgotten so much of what right now is like. Because it all changes so fast.

But here I am trying.

Tycho at 15 months

Sometimes after Tycho goes to bed at night, or on my lunch break at work on my phone, I like to go through old photos and reminisce. Not old old. Back to this spring or even just to his birthday. That was over three months ago now. It feels like it was yesterday. But then I look back at these pictures and I see this tiny baby boy that I barely recognize. He is already a completely different person, and did his hair really grow that much in such a short time? I remember it already being so long then.

I watch old videos from when he was tiny. Before he could crawl or walk or even sit up by himself. I don't even remember that time. How did this all happen?

That's motherhood, I guess. I need to be better at this. I take tons of pictures, and I'm so happy that I have each and every one of them, but I also need more than just these snapshots. I need to save my experience of what it feels like to be right here in this moment with my 479-day-old little boy, because tomorrow everything might be different.

But at the same time I'm trying also to carve out time for me to just be Astrid and not mama, and I want to prioritize my marriage and alone time with my husband, and I want to be the best that I can at work, and all of these things are so hard to balance. Never mind doing the laundry or sweeping the floor or actually decorating our new home.

I think I'm doing a pretty good job. I'm mostly happy in all the facets of me. I am a good mother. My baby boy thinks I am the best thing ever. THE. BEST. Period. Nothing tops mama. But sometimes he refuses even me kisses. It's okay. I'm doing great at work, and generally feel energized about being there. I know my job isn't, in the grand scheme of things, very important or meaningful, but I like what I do. I go on dates with my husband once in a while. We are planning a trip just the two of us for after the holidays. Somewhere warm. Maybe Hawaii. Just me is in there somewhere too. Things are good. Now is good. Just hope I can remember it all.

FOUR

I have a lot of posts to catch up on, I know, but I have been married for four years today and I think that is important, and I don't want it to get lost in the shuffle of all the baby birthday shenanigans. :)

Mama

It seems like these days all the cool kids are going by mama. Not mommy. Before getting pregnant I hadn't really thought about what I would be called, but then we baby boy was cooking I got to thinking that mama was definitely preferable to mommy. I don't know why. Bandwagoning, perhaps. Mama. I like it. But I didn't think mama was in the cards for me. Kyle already referred to me as the kitties' "mommy" long before Tycho was even a twinkle in my eye* so mommy I was going to be, I guess.

But maybe not. Without even thinking about it, I've ended up referring to myself as mama. It seems so much more sweet and babyish and that's what makes sense so that's what I say, and even Kyle has mostly followed suit.

Tycho doesn't really care though. Sometimes I feel like he's never going to call me anything. He never even makes an m sound unless he is mad and forgets to open his mouth while he is trying to yell at me. Soon, I hope. I can't wait.

Change

Motherhood changes things.

Today Kyle and I took Tycho out to lunch with us, and then on a trip to Babies 'R Us to pick up some essentials. We had planned to stop at Target on the way home, but at the last minute Kyle decided he didn't want to do anymore "chores" and took us home. So then I went out to Target by myself, sans baby. And chores it was not. I bought myself a chai latte and leisurely compared different varieties of socks. A mundane trip to Target is now my me time, apparently.

And then I come home to this.

End of Summer

I guess it's officially been fall for a few days now.  The weather has certainly been hinting at it. (Aside: navigating the rain with a baby is a whole different ballgame.) But the sun was out on Sunday, so we picked up some fried chicken (Oprah's Favorite!) and headed to Gasworks Park for a picnic, just the three of us.

I love my little family.

This morning we took Tycho to his 2-month doctor appointment. He is still exceedingly healthy and perfect and amazing, and he now weighs 15lbs, 8oz. That's the 97th percentile. I'm sure by our next visit he'll be off the charts entirely.

Tycho also had his first round of immunizations today. He took them like a champ, and he only seems to be a little extra fussy. Nothing some extra cuddles and kisses and constant boob-access can't cure. I think we're going to make it without any tylenol, and I couldn't be happier.

Life is good.

Birth Story, Part Four: The Aftermath

They wanted me to try and pee before they stitched up my nether regions, so Tycho and Kyle settled in for a nap while I made my way to the toilet. Once I got there I was feeling very light-headed and nauseous. No wonder, since I had barfed probably fifty times during my labor. (I apparently won the award for barfiest labor ever, hurrah!) I am an expert at fainting (see: every time I donate blood), and I could feel it coming on, so I laid down on the floor next to the tub with a cool wet washcloth on my forehead.  After resting there for a while I tried sitting up again, but that quickly proved to be a bad idea, so back to the floor.

Nicole was really sweet and was trying not to be pushy at all, and asked me if I wanted some IV fluids. YES, PLEASE. While that was going on she fed me some yogurt. She asked if I ever imagined that my birth would end with me lying on the bathroom floor being spoon fed by my midwife. I said no, but if you had told me that, I wouldn't necessarily have been surprised. They did Tycho's newborn exam on the floor next to me while Kyle was napping. He was perfect.

After a bag and a half of fluids I was feeling much better, so after finally attempting to pee (great success!), I made my way back to bed to get my lady parts stitched up.  I had a second degree tear in my perineum, and two first degree labial tears. I think I got five stitches in total. It was very bizarre feeling. Not painful, as I was numb from the lidocaine, but I could still feel the thread getting pulled through me.

We attempted nursing one more time while they cleaned me off and he managed to suck for more than a few minutes. I cuddled with my new family in the quiet of the morning while Nicole and Tara cleaned up the room. They dressed Tycho while Kyle loaded up the car, and then we were on our way home, as three.

Tycho is amazing, and I'm really loving my new normal.

Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Seven Years!

Something a little bit different...

Today is exactly seven years from the day Kyle and I met, like, for real, in person. I am normally not one who celebrates anniversaries of inane bullshit, and I haven't made any effort to remember this one, but August 19th is stuck in my head.

Seven years isn't really that long, but it is my entire adult life, so it's significant for me. Anyway, I'm really happy that Kyle took a chance on an internet romance and did really come to see me in Seattle seven years ago. It changed my life.

Birth Story, Part Three: The Pushening

I pushed for just under three hours, alternating between the birthing stool, and various positions on the bed. Most of the time Nicole had her hand all up in me, pushing back the lip of my cervix. It was not fun. I had heard from a lot of  people that after a tough first stage of labor pushing was a relief or even felt good, but for me it was the worst part. I was still puking through all of it, but it actually felt better and helped make my pushes stronger. It was all water by that point anyway, which makes me feel better about it splashing out of the bowl onto Nicole.

After struggling on the bed for a while I asked to move back to the stool, because my pushes felt much more effective there. Gravity, and things. Kyle sat behind me on the bed and made sure I had access to water and chapstick.  After a bunch of contractions we finally got him past the lip of my cervix. Nicole kept asking me if I wanted to see his head in the mirror or reach down and feel him and I was completely uninterested. I just wanted him out of me.

It was really intense when he was actually in my birth canal. At that point I stopped waiting for contractions and was pushing pretty much continuously because it hurt too much not to. My moans were turning into screams, and Roxanne had to remind me to keep things low. It felt like my clitoris was ripping in two! I was not prepared to feel pain there, and I was scared that I might be doing permanent damage to it. But in between all the pushing and the screaming I would look around at my birth team and my mom and Ashley and I felt very supported and amazing.

It was such a relief when his head was finally out. His cord was around his neck, so Nicole had me breathe through a contraction while she slipped it over his head, no big deal. The rest of him was easy in comparison.

He had apparently passed some meconium during labor, so they had to suction out his mouth before they handed him to me. I was totally agog. Looking down at him he seemed way too big to be a newborn baby, and instead of love I felt disbelief that something so huge had just come out of me. He didn't cry at first, but after a few seconds of holding him and stroking him and talking to him he started whimpering and then let out a healthy wail. He was born at 2:30 in the morning on Saturday, July 23, 2011.

I barely even remember birthing the placenta, but it certainly was no big deal compared to my enormous baby. We got into bed with our son, and my mom called my dad and my sister to announce Tycho's arrival and have them make their way over to the birth center. Kyle called his parents to tell them the news.

Everyone was shocked by how big he was. (Two days previously they had written in my chart that they expected him to be around seven pounds.) We all made our guesses on how much he would weigh, and Nicole was right on the money: nine pounds, two ounces.

I apparently had a pretty huge placenta, too. Nicole did her examination of it and showed us all of its parts. We tried to get Tycho nursing, but he must have been overstimulated, because he would only latch on for a minute at a time.  After some more visiting, everyone left to go home and get some sleep. 

Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Four

Birth Story, Part Two: Centered

We ended up driving to the birth center with me kneeling over a yoga ball in the back of our SUV. It's about a 25 minute drive, and in the back of my mind I was worried that  we might get pulled over. Kyle talked me through the drive, telling me how close we were and reminding me to breathe. My midwife Nicole and the student Tara met us there. BFF (and photographer!) Ashley and my mom made their way in as well.

I was still doing pretty well when we got there, and everyone was worried that I wasn't really that far along. After listening to the baby through a contraction Nicole checked me and I was 6cm dilated, and my cervix was paper thin. Victory! It was so reassuring to know that my instincts were right and I had already done most of the hard work, and I was still under control. I could totally do this!

I got into the tub almost immediately after they checked me. It felt wonderful, and reset me a little bit. I was breathing through my contractions, in a world of my own. I was mostly doing well, although baby boy had a mean habit of thrashing about just as my contractions were dying down and I started to relax. Everyone laughed  when I kept shouting at my belly for him to cut it out. But besides that, things remained manageable for me. We had spent so much time in class talking about when you can no longer handle contractions and your partner needs to swoop in with his take charge routine, but I never really got there, and I kept wondering when it was going to happen. 

After a while of peacefully lying in the tub and breathing through my contractions, I think I hit transition. I suddenly NEEDED to change positions, and started to vomit at every contraction.  I leaned over the side of the tub, and Kyle made sure that I was drinking in between my contractions to keep hydrated.

I was starting to feel kind of push-y but I tried to ignore the urge. I did okay for a while, but all of the sudden it was getting to be too much, and I wanted OUT. OF. THE. TUB. Nicole checked me again. I was almost completely dilated, but I had a small stubborn lip of my cervix. I tried to breathe through a few more contractions, but the urge to push was getting really strong.

Prologue | Part One | Part Three | Part Four

Birth Story, Part One: Handling it at Home

I slept pretty well that night after my midwife appointment, although I started waking up in the early morning to pee an awful lot, and looking back, it was probably contractions that were waking me. Friday the 22nd, I finally really woke up and realized what was going on around 8:30. I got out of bed around nine and started counting contractions. In the next hour I had seven, and while they were still very mild, they were definitely a completely different ballgame then any of the "practice" contractions I had felt before.


I woke Kyle up because the internet was down and I needed to do something to distract myself. I let him know what was going on, but then let him go back to sleep, because he had a very late night and I wanted him to be well rested and not grumpy later. When he finally got up around one or two we went to the store to get provisions for the birth center, and tuna fish sandwich makings for me. (P.S. By the time I got around to making the sandwich I no longer wanted a sandwich. It made a great post-partum snack, though.) Contractions were still super manageable and I was feeling really good and really excited.


When we got home we started getting the house in order, doing laundry etc. I decided perhaps I might want to time my contractions, and they were between 3 and 5 minutes apart, and getting closer together. This was when I was supposed to call my midwife, so I did. I apparently sounded super calm on the phone, so she was pretty incredulous that anything major was happening quite yet. I was told to call back when they got more intense. We called our doula, Roxanne, around 5pm, and she said she would start to make her way over, but she told me later that she didn't think I was super far along yet, so she took her time getting to us.


Can I just say that I was LOVING labor? At this point contractions were contractions and I had to stop what I was doing and breathe through them, but it all felt so natural and it came easy to me and after each one I had this natural high. I am so not all crazy-hippie-fertility-goddess, but that's how labor made me feel. It was pretty awesome.


Around 7:30pm I felt my water break with a pop. Very very strange. I didn't have tons of gushing fluid, as baby's head was probably corking me up, but the intensity of my contractions really started to ramp up. We called the midwife and made plans to meet at the birth center at 8:30. Roxanne arrived just after we got off the phone with the midwife. She watched me through a contraction and told me that I looked like I was handling things really well, so well that she was worried that they would send me home from the center because I hadn't progressed enough. I shrugged her off; I had been doing this all day and I knew that things were changing.



Prologue | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Birth Story, the Prologue

I guess we should start well before my labor actually did. My due date was July 13th, but I was so sure I was going to go early. Kyle and I were both early babies (3 weeks, and one week), as was my sister, and my dad and all of his siblings. There was NO WAY I was going to make it. Emotionally either. By 39 weeks I didn't think I could handle another moment of pregnancy. But my due date came and went and I was still pregnant.

I was on a cycle of about two days of acceptance, one day of complete breakdown. Kyle said it was like I was going through the stages of grief, except that I couldn't hold on to the end, and always broke down and started over again. I tried to keep myself busy with one active, out-of-the house thing everyday, but it was hard to get myself going, and find people to do things with, and not just retreat into bed for the rest of forever. I was sure that if I made it to my 41 week, 1 day appointment, that I would be a complete and total sobbing mess, and made Kyle take the day off so I wouldn't have to go alone. 

But when I lost my mucous plug at 41 weeks I started feeling much better. I knew it didn't necessarily mean that I was going to go into labor like, RIGHTNOW, but it was a sign that my body was still in fact working up to birthing this baby, and had not completely abandoned me. I was pretty sure that I would have a baby before the end of the weekend.

At my midwife visit the next day I had my first vaginal exam of my entire pregnancy. (Side note: thank goodness my midwives don't do them on the regular, because they are TERRIBLE.) It was so reassuring to hear that I was 50% effaced and two centimeters dilated. I was thrilled, but the midwives were slightly less optimistic, as I didn't have much blood in the mucous I had passed, and scheduled me for a biophysical profile ultrasound and then an appointment to discuss natural induction options for the next week. But I was in such a good mood I even let Kyle take me to lunch at the Olive Garden afterward. (I would need another whole blog post to explain his obsession with the Olive Garden.)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Another week?

Why hello 41 weeks. I thought for sure I would be greeting you with a baby in my arms instead of in my uterus, but apparently not so much.

The last few days have been... tumultuous. To say the least. I made it 22 hours of Kyle's birthday being a good, un-irritating, scarce wife... but then I had a complete, sobbing on the bathroom floor nervous breakdown, obviously. I can't even really recount it now, since once you get out of these episodes it's really hard to remember where your head was when you were in them. But some combination of being totally tired of being pregnant, feeling like my body wasn't working right, total terror at the unknown of (dun dun dun) INTERVENTIONS that I hadn't really thought about because I was sure I wouldn't need them, something something hormones, emotional crier, yadda yadda.  Even though I can't (and have no desire to) get back into that headspace, I can tell you that it was a scary, dark place that was as bad as I had ever been, where my only coping mechanisms are really breaking things and hurting myself. I managed to refrain from both of these things, but yeah.

Kyle says it's like I'm going through the stages of grieving. Yes, except for that once I reach the acceptance stage I can't seem to stay there and head back through the cycle all over again.

Today I feel pretty good, not least of all because I lost my mucous plug/had some bloody show this morning. I know it doesn't necessarily mean anything, but it at least goes to show that my body hasn't completely abandoned that baby-birthing project, as was my fear. Also, TMI, but SO. MUCH. MUCOUS. Really, I had no idea. I've also been having seemingly more significant contractions for the last two days, but they haven't really seemed organized enough to matter, so I'm mostly just giving my belly the side-eye and waiting for things to be more definite.

Today also marked my very last day at work. Possibly FOREVER, but at least for the next 12 weeks. Very strange. Tomorrow morning is my midwife appointment omg scary times, but I'm feeling pretty optimistic about it, what with recent developments. I feel pretty confident, at least for the moment, that things are not going to end all scary scary doctor hospital needle scalpel DEATH. Whee positive attitude! I try.

At least today is somebody's birthday!

Today will be an experiment in how to not completely irritate your husband on his 28th birthday when you are also 40 weeks and 5 days pregnant. It might be tricky. Plan so far is to get the fuck out of the house and get a pedicure, because I am sure I am far less annoying when I am not here. We'll see how it goes after that.

I love you, Kyle.

Another day

Today is a better day. Yesterday was pretty okay, too, actually. I haven't cried since Friday, but I cried way a lot on Friday, so I guess it all evens out. But at least a little bit I think I'm learning how to live at this new pace that is the end of pregnancy. Living slower is making me feel like I'm not doing quite so much impossible waiting. I'm sleeping in and taking leisurely showers and generally not clock-watching and probably moving half as slow as the rest of the world, but I think that's for the best. The only hard part is that no one else is on my new schedule, so it can get kind of lonely. Everyone else also has lives and jobs and things, and I think are reserving their time for later, because it's much more exciting to hang out with a newborn baby than a bitchy term pregnant woman.

However. Kyle and I wandered and ate our way around the Bite of Seattle yesterday, which is pretty much the perfect event for a pregnant woman, and today BFF and I did some mall-walking, Frappuccino -drinking, and nursing-apparel shopping. I am a much happier person if I get out of the house and do something, anything, at least once a day. Tomorrow the only thing I have planned so far is a pedicure, but that is something at least. And beyond that, who knows. I'm having a hard time thinking more than one day ahead at this point. Everything seems far too uncertain.

I am starting to feel like I'm living in some sort of dream world. The longer things go, the less real anything feels. Kind of like the early weeks of my pregnancy where in between bouts of nausea I wouldn't have any symptoms and my body hadn't started changing yet and I would feel like I had imagined it all. Obviously, I am huge and clearly pregnant, but the reality of getting a baby sometime in the next week and a half seems to recede further and further into the distance. A week ago I felt like labor was imminent and I was ready, and now... it all just seems impossible. I feel like I am sitting in a nursery decorated for no one, and that I'm going to turn into a crazy lady pushing around an empty stroller. It is very strange and surreal.

But I guess it will all be over soon. This is the last month I will be pregnant. I will have a baby in the next couple weeks. This will end, and I will have my new reality and it will be good. I just need to remain calm and patient. I'm doing okay at that today.

Overdue

I've been putting off writing this post,  as it feels a bit like admitting defeat, but here I am. Still no baby. My due date has come and gone and nothing really has changed much. Baby boy shows no signs of being ready or willing to come out ever.

40 weeks, this past Wednesday

I am.... barely holding it together. There are lots of tears. LOTS. I think I am dehydrating myself from crying so much, actually. I have a wicked headache this morning. I'm trying to rein it in and get more fluids in me, you know, in case I have the occasion to need to buttload of energy in the near future, but I'm really no match for my hormones and emotions right now. Yesterday Kyle decided that an hour of hysterical wife sobbing was a reasonable excuse not to go into the office and took me to lunch instead. And before he went out in the evening for baseball-related activities, he had me invite myself over for dinner at my parents. They thought it was hilarious that he was having them "babysit" me, but it was probably for the best, since I likely would have otherwise sat at home in the dark crying. Yes, I know I am pathetic.

I also got myself a Frappaccino yesterday afternoon and walked around the lake listening to my labor playlist, and it was very nice. 2.8 miles and it only took me an hour and twenty minutes. It was actually lovely, even though it started raining a couple times. The headphones means that no one talked to me and I got to get some alone time without it making me feel depressed and isolated and helpless. And you know, the walking thing, that's supposed to help, right? I think it's going to be a regular afternoon activity for me until baby boy decides to show up.

My sister is also back from France now. She got in Wednesday night. I'm happy she's here, of course, but I was really hoping to have a baby before she got here, so I haven't been as joyful about it as I perhaps should be. I love my sister, but she can be somewhat emotionally draining for me, and I'm spread thin already as it is. And she doesn't understand why I am so short and so angry and so quick to fly off the handle, that I'm not really ready to spend a lot of time with her quite yet. Unfortunate.

I really want to have a baby soon. If I make it to my next appointment on Thursday I have to have a non-stress test and we'll sweep my membranes and schedule an ultrasound and I really want no part of any of it. Please please please please please let me have a baby first.

Still here.

Oh hey I am still pregnant. I guess that's not super surprising, since my due date isn't even til Wednesday, but I feel like I've had this baby inside me for pretty much forever, and there's only so long you can go without completely losing your mind.

I think this would all be a lot easier if I could really give into just living in the moment and not worrying about how much longer I have and what plans I have for this week and whatever, but unfortunately the rest of the world doesn't exactly work like that, so it's really hard to just let everything else go. I still have to worry about when I am scheduled at work, and who I have to call to make sure the world doesn't end if I can't come in and that my sister is coming back to Seattle in a few days and that Kyle has a baseball game later, and good lord everything is so damn inconvenient when you are a term pregnant woman working with an even that can happen anytime in a five week stretch. Although I guess at this point I only have to worry about two and a half.

Once labor truly begins, though, time really can stop mattering for a while, and I am so looking forward to that. Once we get there, the only thing that will really matter is what is currently happening, and I no longer have to worry about the rest of the world's schedule. It will just be me and my body and my husband and my baby and our family going at the speed that works for us, and while the world is obviously not going to be stopping also, we can for the most part happily ignore the artificial scheduling of everything. I can't wait for that.

An invitation:

Dear Baby,

Hey baby boy! How are you? I am incredibly uncomfortable.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I don't have any plans for tomorrow, so if you're not busy either maybe you'd want to hang out with me? We could meet up at the birth center. I'll even invite Daddy; he can drive. Let me know if you're interested. You know where to find me.

Love, Mommy

37 Weeks, 6 Days

Posted without comment.

Term

Dear Baby,

We made it! Today we are officially 37 weeks pregnant, which means it's safe for you to come out, anytime you want within the next five weeks. I'm hoping you choose sooner rather than later, though. You're getting really big, and I think we're both a little uncomfortable sharing my body these days. But if you're anything like me and your daddy, you won't make us wait too long. And I'm  pretty sure you're at least a little like me and your daddy. Did you know that he was three weeks early? That would be like you coming TODAY! I don't think we'd be quite 100% prepared for that though, so give us a little time to get all the finishing touches together.

I am probably going to miss this time that I always have you with me and it being just the two of us, but I'm also so excited to get to see you on the outside and to introduce you to everybody. There are just so many people that can't wait to meet you. And I'm sure that you'll be just as thrilled to finally get to see your dad and all your grandparents and your aunts and uncles. They can't wait to meet you, either.

Okay, baby, let's get this show on the road!

Love, Mommy

34

You know what sucks? Rain. Still messing with my all dresses all the time plan. I am probably unecessarily angry about this. I think I went through 12 outfits today before I settled on one that didn't make me feel like crying, and I wasn't really even planning to leave the house or do anything productive. This last bit of pregnancy? Infuriating.

34 weeks today. I need to get my shit together. Today I googled every single family practice and pediatrician covered by my insurance so I can get going on finding a doctor for baby boy. It's 2011, you'd think the internet would be a lot more helpful when it comes to finding a doctor, but no, not really. Rarely did I find a doctor that had reviews, and almost never was the information in the reviews helpful. That's nice that he had a friendly receptionist, but what's his attitude on vaccines? Ugh. I keep getting the feeling that I'm going about this all wrong, because if it was this hard for everyone I would have heard about it, right? Maybe?

But hard as they are, things are going. Kyle is going to put our childcare deposit down tomorrow, assuming the space is still open--cross your fingers, because otherwise we are shit outta luck on that front. Our childbirth class is going well. Penny Simkin is truly the bees knees. I wish she could be my doula.  We're setting up appointments with doulas, too. Better late than never, I suppose. And I got myself accepted into a pilot study about placenta encapsulation and post partum mood disorders, so get that done for free. And I'm like, participating in science, woo. Tomorrow mom is coming over to help me paint our "nursery." I don't know why I am using the quotes there, since it is just the nursery, but it doesn't really feel real yet. Something.

I've gone down to four days a week at work. Three this week because of the holiday. I'm not super happy about it, and I'm only doing it because I have PTO I have to use up by the end of the month. I was hoping it would last a little longer and I could roll it into my maternity leave, but no such luck. But honestly, I think I kind of needed to step back a little anyway, because I am exhausted.

Too exhausted to think of a way to wrap this up. The end.