May 25, 2011

Birth story to come!

Oh, and Did I Mention?

Two, yes TWO girls who were due after me had their babies last night.

Stupid barometric pressure works for everyone else.

Sheesh.

Still waiting . . .

Full Moons, Book Clubs, and Barometric Pressure

There are only two days to go until my due date.

Two days.

Let's not get into all the ways this whole "labor/no labor" "VBAC/no VBAC" thing is starting to mind-fuck me.

Let's just say that I've been gradually exploring all of the fabled "labor-inducing" practices.

Earlier this week there was a full moon. The nurse said on Monday the influence of lunar cycles was legit, and they really do see an uptick in women going into labor during a full moon.

Here I sit. Still pregnant.

A local group of moms and I all participate in a book club. This particular club is famed for sending near- and at-term mommas into labor. I made the looong drive down south to join the ladies this month (I did actually read the book. It was amazing. I wasn't just using them for their labor-inducing powers.), actively participated, soaked in the book club vibes.

Here I sit. Still pregnant.

Finally yesterday, after nearly five months of drought, we had a fair bit of rain, with more forecast for today. God bless Mother Nature, dropping barometric pressure is also said to help bring on labor.

I'm hoping the rain today does it, because the piddly little drizzle we had all day yesterday didn't do squat.

I'm also walking a lot. Standing while working at my desk. Bouncing on my yoga ball at home. Having sex. Eating spicy food and eggplant parmesan. Getting foot massages.

I have not yet resorted to castor oil, nipple stimulation, and evening primrose oil.

When I started my motherhood journey nearly three years ago, the immediate and jarring lesson I learned is that, regardless of how goal oriented I am, some things are simply not within my control. It doesn't matter how "right" I do things . . . que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be, and there's not a damn lot I can do to change it.

So here we are. Full circle. What started with trying to get pregnant has now come back to trying to get my second baby to come on out. But the lesson remains the same.

Patience.

Acceptance of the level of control I actually have over things.

And the ability to keep things in perspective.

I am 39 weeks and 5 days pregnant.

And waiting, waiting, waiting.

Keeping My Head Up

39-week appointment today. After a week of feeling like someone had pounded on my vagina with a baseball bat and not feeling any more kicks in my lungs, I was hopeful that baby boy had dropped at least a bit and I'd have some exciting progress. Not confident . . . but hopeful.

Last week I was at 1 cm and 30%. This week I am at ( . . . drumroll . . . ) a whopping 1.5 cm and 40%.

I know.

I know where I am means jack as far as predicting labor.

I know there's still plenty of time for me to go into labor on my own.

I know that my body is doing what it's supposed to do--slowly and gradually getting ready to give birth rather than suddenly and chaotically.

I also know that I kind of felt like kicking things just a little bit on my way out.

Kicking the full moon. Stupid full moon. Why aren't you doing more??

Kicking my cervix. STUPID CERVIX. WHAT THE EFFFF?? LET MY CHILDREN OUT OF ME. It must be all those kegels I've done. I over-strengthened it. Damn.

Kicking the door to the waiting room. Just 'cause it's there.

TH asked me last night during our evening walk what kind of progress I was hoping for today. I told him I didn't want to make a prediction so that I wouldn't be disappointed if I didn't get the answer I was hoping for, but that I'd be fine with whatever unless I had suffered through a week of pain and discomfort and not sleeping only to be at like, a 1.5 and 35%.

When the doc announced where I was, I immediately felt my husband's hand on my arm. When I sat up, he rubbed the small of my back while we sat there and talked about next week with my doctor (you know, because he said his best bet is that he'll see me next Monday at my 40-wk appt. Resume kicking things.). While we talked about "how far we'd let things go."

You see, they won't induce me. All the risk factors for a VBAC increase with the introduction of labor-inducing or labor-augmenting drugs. And they really won't induce me if I'm overdue (apparently the risk goes up with each overdue day that ticks by). And they REALLY REALLY won't induce me if I'm overdue with a cervix that isn't doing shit.

So either I go into labor--on my own--in the next week, or we start talking about when I go under the knife again. And to be honest, I'm pretty over having major surgeries. Two in the last four years is plenty, thankyouverymuch.

I was really hoping I'd just go early with Dos and totally avoid the whole issue. Of having to worry about IF it was going to happen. Of going late and having to weigh everything all over again. Of not even being given the shot at all.

So anyways, as soon as we heard my "progress" my husband's hand didn't leave me. Sweet man. Damn if he doesn't know me so well. I'm sure he was looking around for things to clear out of my kicking zone.

The doc and nurse left the room and TH moved to wrap me in a huge hug . . . and I stopped him. I know myself well enough to know that sympathy at this point will only make me feel like there's something wrong, like there's something happening to me that I need sympathy for, and the truth is . . . there's really not.

I'm pregnant. (YAY!) With a healthy son. (YAY!) I'm due soon but not yet. (YAY!) I had a little progress over the last week. (YAY!) I am actually ahead of where I was with baby girl at 39 weeks and I went into labor on my own with her. (YAY!) In the meantime, I get a few last days of one-on-one time with my sweet baby girl. (YAY YAY YAY!) I get a few last days of feeling a baby move inside me, of having sweet Dos all to myself, all the time, safe and sound and well taken care of in there, without me having to worry about feedings and sleep deprivation and all the things that go along with a newborn. (YAYYYYYY!)

Yeah, my vagina hurt last week. It's in the process of separating. It's gonna hurt. I was being naive to think that the relatively minor discomfort I was feeling meant that something big was happening. If something big is going to happen, I'm going to feel it in a big way. I need to stop expecting this to be easy.

So yeah, I felt like kicking things. But it passed. I'm focusing instead on all the good things about where I am right now, today.

Keeping my head up, folks. That's pretty much all I can do.

A Letter to My Daughter

Sweet Baby Girl,

Tomorrow you turn 20 months old. And soon, baby brother will be making his way into our lives and you won't be our one and only anymore. I wanted to take a minute to write you a letter before this happens, to talk to you for a second, to commemorate and celebrate the girl you are right now, before your life changes forever.

You are my sweet sunshine. You are happy. And silly. And funny. And energetic. And opinionated. And strong and determined. And you are so, so smart.

The simplest things delight you. Our evening walks around the neighborhood, enjoying the pre-summer twilight temperatures, bring you pleasure to no end. You sit in your wagon with your container of blueberries and your cup of milk, and while your dad and I walk ahead, you prop both feet up on the side of the wagon, lean back, and soak it all in. Every time I look back at you, the wind blowing your gorgeous curls, you catch my gaze and break into a scrunched-nose, squinty-eyed look of sheer delight. You hunch your shoulders up and giggle at me and pop another blueberry into your mouth. I love that you are so delighted by the world around you. That you find so much pleasure in just experiencing it. I love that you share your delight with me.

You make my life delightful.

You love to laugh and you love to be amazed. Your favorite way to pass time at a restaurant while waiting on our food is to watch the "magic tricks" your dad and I perform, making rolled up pieces of straw wrappers disappear and reappear under our hands. You are the most social baby I've ever known. You say "Hi, people!" whenever you see anyone come around, and you are constantly grinning your grin at anyone and everyone who smiles at you . . . and baby girl, EVERYONE smiles at you. They just can't help it.

You are getting to be such a grown-up little girl. You know all your colors and shapes. You understand everything we tell you or ask you. You love to help us and play with us and snuggle with us, and you love to let us know exactly what you want and see how far you can push it. In other words, you are doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing as a toddler, and I'm so proud of how amazingly you are growing up.

I know, here pretty soon, a lot of big things are going to change. Baby brother is going to arrive, and you are going to suddenly have to share things you've never had to share before--our time and attention and laps and hugs and kisses and patience, just to name a few. Your dad and I are doing everything we can in these last few weeks and days to make sure that you know exactly how special you are to us. Your getting lots of park trips (your favorite thing right now!) and special treatment. This morning we went down to Zilker Park to play and ride the train. You had a blast running around and playing with all the other kids. You are so observant and love to interact with others, doing what they're doing and having them do what you do. Watching you play, it made me suddenly very happy to know that very soon we'd be giving you a lifetime playmate. You have so much fun with other kids, you are going to adore having a brother here to play with all the time.

So even though it may seem at first like you're losing something, I hope you know how much you're gaining as well. Someone new to love and play with. Someone new to love and adore you.

And know that these last 20 months with just you in my life, a single, perfect angel girl for me to love and dote on, have been the most amazing 20 months of my life. You have made me infinitely happier than I ever realized was possible before. You have made me laugh a million times. Your hugs and kisses make my heart melt, and I love nothing more in the world than to hear your sweet voice calling, "Mommy? Mommy?" or to hear you yell "Mommy!!!" and then run toward me, arms outstretched, when I pick you up from school.

You were and will forever be my first. You introduced me to motherhood. You taught me how to be a parent. You touched my life in a way no one has ever or will ever touch it again.

You are my sunshine and you will always and forever be my sunshine.

And you will always, always be my very special girl.

I love you,
Mom

I Dreamed a Dream of You

Last night, I dreamed a dream of you, sweet boy.

It wasn't a dream about the birth. I've had several of those and the birth always goes amazing and I wake up as you're being placed in my arms and I feel calm, knowing somehow deep down that everything will go okay.

This dream picked up after the birth. I had to go get you from the NICU. But I wasn't scared. Or nervous. I was just demanding that they let me have you. I knew in my dream it had been 24 hours since your birth and my arms ached for you.

(and then, in the funny way of dreams, there was some plot thickening where they couldn't find you. And then they did find you, in the daycare nursery, and you were already crawling. My strong baby.)

And then there you were. In my arms. Where you belong. And though crazy things kept happening around us in the dream (there was no car seat, so your dad had to leave us at the mall to go install one; your Uncle Brian kept trying to get your to wake up while you were napping, and so on), the chaos swirled around us and I stared down at you, smiling. You had dark hair and dark eyes and you looked back up at me, and we were calm. Nothing could touch us.

You were hungry and we laid down to nurse, and the milk flowed out of me on cue and you turned toward it, famished.

And I was swallowed in love and contentment.

Last night, I dreamed a dream of you, sweet boy. It wasn't a dream about your birth, it was a dream about what comes after.

It was a reminder that while it's true there's a bridge to cross, a bridge between my life with you inside me right now and our lives together on the other side, it isn't the crossing of that bridge that's important.

We will find each other. No matter the chaos that swirls around us, we will find each other and all will be right.

Every cell in my body tingles in yearning and anticipation. I can't wait to meet you.

New Post

That's what you click on to write a new post. New Post.

And that's what this is. I thought it particularly fitting considering my last post.

This is a new post. With a new attitude. A new outlook. And some new updates. And significantly less whining. Thank God. I wanted to kick my own ass, I can't imagine it was much fun to read.

I feel better. Sooo much better. I've slept really well the last two nights and feel rested and strong again. Not only physically strong (which I do--much of my discomfort, which was probably contributing to my sleeplessness, has subsided), but mentally strong, too. I no longer feel like I'm running on fumes. It's amazing what a difference that makes!

We had our 38-week appointment yesterday, and there's a TEENY TINY bit of PROGRESS! The last two appointments I've been just a fingertip dilated (read: not really dilated at all) with zero effacement. Not that I wanted early progress, but considering phase 1 of my plan dictates that I go into labor on my own, I was starting to get a little antsy. Yesterday I was 1 cm dilated and 30% effaced. Yeah, it's just a little progress, but it gives me hope that all that discomfort I've been feeling has actually been doing something. It also puts me about where I was with baby girl at 39 weeks, and I went into labor on my own with her, so it renews my hope and confidence that my body will do just what it is supposed to do, when it's supposed to do it. (In less-measurable progress, my boobs are once again filling up. They are warm to the touch and bouncy and I have cleavage again. Hello, milk!)

Our to-do list has slowly but surely been dominated. There are still a few lingering tasks (finish off organizing the nursery, pack our hospital bag), but the big things that were hanging over us (new pump parts, installing the carseat, etc.) have been done.

I only have one more week of work after this. The end is in sight.

I'm not swelling. My blood pressure is great.

And I'm once again reminded how thrilling this end game is. Yes, it's hard. It hurts. It's exhausting. It's emotionally unstable. But damn, how EXCITING to know that at any point between rightthissecond and two weeks from now, I'll start feeling contractions. I'll think for the second time in my life (for the first time), "Hmmm . . . is this it?"

And no matter what, within the next two weeks, Dos will be here in my arms.