JJ's Surprise Entrance to the World

*** MAJOR DISCLAIMER! This is the long, descriptive, detailed and candid story about how my son was born. Proceed with caution! ***

Well, we have added a new jellybean! Regan now has a baby brother. John James. JJ. Born May 29, 2014. 7 lbs. 6 oz. and 20.25 inches long. He's a perfect little bug and looks just like his big sister! The first thing Regan wanted to do when we all got home was hold him. She gave him sweet little kisses and looked so proud of her baby brother. Everyone is sleepy, but doing great!

Let me start at the beginning. On Thursday, May 29, I had my regular OB appointment at 9:30 a.m. I had been having stomach trouble and feeling a little crampy all night, but nothing with any kind of pattern. I had a feeling that I was getting close to labor though. As it happened, Paul had a job interview at 9 that morning too, so I just kept thinking that I just needed to get past that interview. I made it to my appointment and they started with the weekly non-stress test. As usual, JJ was pretty non-responsive to the NST. He had been stubborn on just about every single on of them. However, the nurse was amazed at the contractions I was having. At this point, they were starting into a pattern of I think maybe every 5 to 8 minutes or so. They were strong (off the charts of the NST) but not painful. I thought they were Braxton Hicks contractions. At my appointment the week before I was about 1 cm dilated. Dr. Beveridge checked me again after the NST this time and I was at about 3 cm. It felt good knowing that my body was doing something. Before I was induced with Regan, I'd had absolutely no signs of labor. Due to the non-responsive NST, Dr. B sent me to Labor & Delivery for further monitoring. Paul's interview was done, so I drove myself home and he drove us both to the hospital. We spent maybe 2 hours there. I was having the same type of contractions and they were only slowly getting stronger. We were sent home and told everything looked okay. Dr. B said my contractions didn't seem strong enough for me to really be in labor, and since I wasn't quite 39 weeks yet there was no reason to push anything. So we went home, but I kept telling Paul that we would be back that day. My contractions had been getting stronger and more painful since the doctor checked me earlier in the day.

It was about 2 p.m. when we finally got home and I started timing my contractions. They were about 3 to 4 minutes apart as long as I stayed still. When I got up, they would get stronger and much closer together. I would have to stop and lean against a counter or something during them. Mostly, I labored in my bed. They were only lasting about 30 to 40 seconds, and I still didn't feel like they were terribly painful, just a lot of pressure. Doc had told me to go to the hospital when contractions were 3 to 5 minutes apart for at least an hour and were strong. I knew I was contracting more often than that, but I didn't feel like they were terribly strong and I really didn't want to be sent home again. So I waited. A bit before 4 p.m. they were about 2 to 3 minutes apart and getting pretty painful. I called my mom and she and my dad started the 1.5-hour long drive here to be with Regan. As soon as I called them, the contractions got serious. Paul had decided to go get Regan from day care because it closed at 5:30. We were either going to wait until my folks got to our house (I should have called them sooner) or take Regan with us, depending on how I was feeling when they got back. As soon as he left, I knew I needed to get to the hospital right away. I also knew I didn't want Regan to see my hurting or have to worry about her at the hospital with us. I called a friend who agreed to take Regan at her house until my parents arrived. Turns out, she saved the day! Paul dropped her off there, came home and we left. That 10 minutes to the hospital was a long 10 minutes! I think I had 5 or so contractions and just tried to breathe through them and brace myself against the movement of the car. Luckily, I did get breaks between contractions this time, unlike with my induction with Regan. We pulled up to the ER at about 5, signed a paper or two and I was wheeled up to Labor and Delivery. I remember half joking with the ER tech between contractions because he was in such a hurry to get me upstairs. They don't like to deliver babies in the ER!

In my room (they almost put me in a triage room again), I put on the gown while contracting almost constantly. I got into bed, strapped into the monitors and a resident came in shortly to check me. He said I was 3 centimeters. The nurse told him my contractions weren't lasting very long (about 40 seconds), I was breathing through them and they palpated "mild." She had put the contraction monitor up high on my belly, even though I said I felt them very low and like my hips were being torn apart, so my contractions looked small on the chart. When she palpated a contraction, she also felt my belly up high. She told me not to feel frustrated because I "could" still be in labor. She reminded me (without a lot of compassion, I thought) that I had to remember to breathe during contractions "for the sake of my baby." She told me that I may have to get up and bounce on the exercise ball or walk around for a while. All I could think was that I was going to be sent home again, and I couldn't even imagine how much worse it was going to get. Paul tried to help me breathe through contractions, but at this point I was in agony. I had an epidural at about 2 or 3 centimeters (on pitocin) with Regan, so I just thought I was a wimp when it came to labor pain. I didn't think to ask for an epidural yet because I had just gotten there, and apparently was only having mild contractions.

I did my best to breathe. The nurse came back when the baby's heart rate had a major deceleration during a contraction and made me roll over to my left side. I could barely move and she kept saying "do it for the sake of your baby." I knew she was trying to help, but that broke my spirit a bit. I was really doing the best I could.

A few minutes later, at probably about 10 minutes until 6, I told Paul I wanted to push. I was convinced I was crazy because I was only supposed to be 3 centimeters, but I literally couldn't help it. In the next contraction, I thought I was peeing (water broke) and it felt like the baby was coming out. I'm pretty sure I yelled like they do in the movies. (Apparently that's not entirely inaccurate! lol) I still honestly thought I was just crazy. Three centimeters less than an hour ago! I was supposed to be sent home! Paul ran to get help and the next thing I heard was "oh my god!" from the nurse. I'm not even sure how everyone got into my room so fast, but Dr. B and a roomful of nurses seemed to arrive in seconds. Truthfully, my next thought was "well, I must be far enough along to have an epidural now" so I cried for one, still not really realizing what was happening. The nurse tried to get me to pant instead of push but I barely heard her. I pushed and out he came, with support from the doc, onto the bottom of the bed, at 5:59 p.m.

A lot happened all at once after that. I heard him cry a little, but I was still on my side and couldn't see him. I honestly still didn't fully realize what had happened until I heard him cry. They asked Paul if he wanted to cut the cord. I think he just shook his head and they all told him to sit down and breathe. They started an IV for me and gave me oxygen because I was in a bit of shock (duh!). We waited a few minutes for the placenta while they checked the baby. They put him down in the bed with me for a few minutes and then whisked him away again to do whatever it is they do. All the nurses were amazed. They kept talking about how I went from three centimeters to complete in less than an hour! The placenta was no big deal, but I needed a couple of stitches again. Doc numbed be as best he could, but it still hurt a lot. He also had to help a bit of the placenta membrane and some clots come out, which was also painful. Eventually, things settled down and we were able to snuggle our baby boy and reflect on what had just happened.

Everyone was healthy, and we are all extremely grateful for that considering there was no time for anything. I didn't even fill out the "admissions" paperwork until the next day. I felt pretty amazing afterward. I didn't feel utterly exhausted like I did after 18 hours of labor with Regan. I only spent one night in the hospital and it felt great to come home. I was relaxed and really felt fantastic emotionally, especially compared to how stressed and overwhelmed I felt the first time around. Physically, I wasn't any worse off than I was the first time.

At first, after the initial shock, I felt very strong and proud of myself. I have been back and forth between that high and feeling pretty traumatized over the last few days. Hormones have definitely contributed to that roller coaster. It was by far the scariest and most dramatic experience of my life, and probably nothing will top it. I also remember it very clearly, unlike with Regan's long labor where the details all ran together.

Anyway, we're learning the ropes again. Regan has been fantastic, except for an occasional 2.5-year-old moment here and there. JJ is a fantastic nurser. In fact, he wants to nurse pretty much round the clock (yawn). We have his first appointment today, so hopefully they tell me good things.

So that's the story of how my beautiful son made his door-busting entrance into the world. No matter what, I would do it all again in a heartbeat for him.

     

     

My darling daughter,

Today you are 1 year old.

 

In 12 short months, you have had your first breaths, your first tears, your first smiles, your first meals. Your first owies, your first baths, your first friends, your first laughs. You’ve learned that when you are hungry you will be fed, and that mommy and daddy are never far from your bed. When you’re on your tummy, you’re moody. So forget crawling; you scoot around on your booty! You’ve become strong willed and curious. When you’re tired, you get furious. “Dada” was your first word. No fair! It was mommy who labored! But you say “mama” now, and lay your head on her shoulder. You’re not walking yet, but you are getting bolder. When you enter a room, you give a high-pitched “hi,” and when someone leaves, you wave bye-bye. Whenever there’s music, you wiggle and twist. When you’re away at daycare, you are desperately missed.

 

One year ago, you came into our lives with a roar. Now we can hardly remember what life was like before. You came to us and we were blessed. No matter what happens, you’ll always be our little princess.

 

Happy birthday, sugar.

 

Love,

Your mommy and daddy

Look how far you've come!

Today, Paul and his dad built us a porch swing while Regan, Ann and I sat in the shade in the front yard. I envision many happy memories involving that swing!

New concept

I'm going to try something new here. Instead of holding out until I feel like I have something really major to write about, I'm going to try to write just a few sentences about the day every day or so. I just want to be able to look back at these posts and remember and relive these moments. I'm also not going to worry too much about these being very well-written or anything because that tends to hold me back from just jotting down a thought.

So here goes.

Today, Paul sat Regan on the recliner chair and sat on the floor in front of it so they were face to face. He played with her like that for a long time, and she laughed and laughed, and we all laughed and laughed. Later, she practiced her backwards army crawl maneuver for a while and got so frustrated by it that she kicked her legs and smushed her nose into the carpet. As I was putting her to bed (after winning the daily changing table wresting match) I looked at her face and had a moment of pure love and peace - her soft little head nuzzled in my elbow, her hands curled up under her chin, her soft pink striped blanket tucked around her, and her little green and yellow pacifier nearly falling out of her sleepy mouth. It was one of those moments when I wished my brain had the power to perfectly capture a memory and an emotion and file it away for another day.

Sorry about the blog-lag. Been busy! I'm going to keep blogging over here instead of tumblr. I like tumblr, but since I already have several posts here, and I'm using this as a sort of scrapbook, I don't want to lose what I've already written. I'll use tumblr for other things. :)

There was a brand new mom and dad and teeny-tiny baby girl at Regan's daycare when I visited at lunch today. Mom was peppering the teacher with a thousand questions while dad silently rocked the little one to sleep in his arms. As I sat on the floor reading and playing with Regan, encouraging her to stand up and crawl, I could hear the slight panic in the new mommy's voice. "Where will Sophia sleep?" "How do you keep the toys clean?" "What if you can't get her to stop crying?" I remembered that feeling and recognized the look in her eyes - like a nervous bird ready to fight or flee at any second.

The week before Regan started daycare, we visited several times. "She likes to be swaddled in this blanket best." "What if she won't drink from a bottle?" "How do you sanitize everything?" I looked at the veteran moms, all relaxed and well-rested, and wondered if I'd ever get to their state of calm. Today, as Regan chewed on a toy that probably came straight from another baby's mouth, I realized I was now the calm (or at least calmER) mother that I'd looked up to a few months ago.

Those who know me best probably don't think I'm terribly calm when it comes to being a mom. I can't help it, I get a little frazzled still. But believe me, I'm calmer than I was a few months ago! It took me a good 6 months to finally feel like I might actually keep this little creature alive for a while longer. I've never sugar-coated how difficult being a brand new mommy was for me. In fact I may have been a little too honest for my non-parent or soon-to-be-parent friends. Sorry about that. Really. No one likes an over-share and I didn't mean to scare anyone. Still, even though being a new mom was much harder than I expected, becoming a working mother was much easier than I expected. And now that Regan is doing incredible things like laughing and playing and (forgive me, sleep gods, please don't jinx me) sleeping through the night, it's so much more fun than I ever imagined. And even though I still sometimes lay the screaming little diva in her crib, close the door behind me and bury my head in the pillows, I also laugh, play, love and bask in the moments a hundred times more than I ever did. Those moments make it all so much more than worth it.

So I wanted to tell the brand new mommy that it's hard to go back to work, but she'll be okay - both mommy and baby will be okay. That she shouldn't let anyone scare her into thinking that leaving her baby at daycare will be the most heinous and awful thing she'll ever have to do. I wanted to tell her that my daughter is happy at day care, I'm happy at work, and we're all blissfully happy at home. I wanted to tell her that no matter what, she is the mommy and her baby will be happy to see her at the end of the day - at least most of the time. But I didn't. I just smiled a little as she took in the slight chaos that is infant daycare. As she left, I silently wished her a good night's sleep and knew that I'd see her again soon, without the panic in her eyes.

Regan and her best daycare buddy. Regan is just barely 6 months old here.

Hey all. I'm moving my blog over to Tumblr. It'll be more fun! http://baylieve.tumblr.com/

I'll keep this one too, just in case it turns out that I like it better.

Not ready

Dearest Daughter, this is the first of many times that you'll grow up faster than I'm ready for. Someday you won't let me hold your hand any more. Someday you'll want to ride your bike to school. Someday you'll tell me I'm awful and unreasonable. And someday you'll take your teddy bears and your first car to college with you. I won't be ready for any of it, but you will be.

Every day and night for 6 months we've snuggled together in our rocking chair. The soft-focus brochure photos of a nursing mommy and baby are beautiful, aren't they? After weeks of struggle and a sense of stubbornness and determination I didn't know I had, we finally got there. I could hold you close, feel your breaths in your belly and tuck your sweet, soft baby hairs behind your ear. Your tiny fist laid on your face. Your eyes closed in complete peace. I'd lift you to my shoulder, cheek to cheek, pat your back and lay you down with a kiss.

The truth is, I didn't really mind the night feedings. Well, once we got those feedings down to once or twice per night, that is. Half asleep, I'd hobble into your dark bedroom and scoop you into my arms. In our rocking chair, your cries would stop, your muscles would ease and we'd fall asleep together in our quiet corner. You and me while the world slept around us.

Then the day came when it was time for you to learn to drink from a bottle, and time for me to learn to be okay with it. Part of raising a child is doing what's hard for me so she can be healthy, learn independence and strength, I told myself. Over and over. Finally, you did it. And you got good at it.

Now, at only 6 months, I cherish our nighttime nursing routine because it's the only one left. You've grown curious, stubborn and independent. You're like your mommy. Six months is far too young, but so is 18.