Week Six

According to friends and reference works, I should be emerging from my chaotic cocoon about now.

I was told before Nathan was born that if I went into the first 6 weeks expecting them to be the least productive and most frustrating of my life, accomplishing little and feeling I failed at most things, well... then I might be pleasantly surprised. -And this from a usually positive, upbeat friend!

The first six weeks have already brought about so many changes - not just in Nathan, but in me. I still wrestle with whether I'm permanently screwing him up if I let him cry in instance X or choose to respond with Y reaction in other circumstances, but I have more confidence in knowing that I know my baby better than any other mom would know him. I'm not worried I'm starving him - he's over 12 pounds already.

After several baths, I no longer worry that I'll drop his slippery little body onto the porcelain sink with injurious force - though his vociferous dislike of being cold and bare would lead a Social Services rep to think otherwise.

He's turned into a chubby baby: rolls on arms and legs with a double chin for good measure. It makes feeding him more interesting, since milk often escapes into the sundry creases of skin around his little neck. His hair has that indefinable 'baby' smell; his neck (unless I've just washed it) has that very definable 'formula' smell.

He now attempts baby push-ups when he's put on his stomach; tries to make baby conversation with the mobile over his crib, the stuffed dog on his changing table or truly interested adults trying to get his attention. I've been on the receiving end of several of his intentional, gummy grins (not just gas-related ones) - and have considered myself paid in full for 3 a.m. feedings.

I see an amalgam of myself and Trent - my face shape, my forehead (so Trent swears), Trent's eyes and eyebrows, some of my strong will and an observer sort of personality that seems more in line with Trent's personality than mine...

He's cute... sometimes freakishly so:

NathanHeadshot

NathanHeadshot
Originally uploaded by SJStanley.

Such a sweet face...

Day Five...

Day 5:
Suspect seems to ingest large amounts of liquid, followed by long periods of semi-unconscious to unconscious existence. Behavior warrants future monitoring.

We've only been home from the hospital three days, but each family member has their role. Mommy's taking regular pain meds and trying to get this whole feeding routine learned; Baby's eating, sleeping, charming all comers except the family cat and working his way through diapers like they're going out of style; Daddy's taking to baby care like a duck to water. -A memory I hope to carry with me to the grave is Trent picking up Nathan for skin-to-skin contact (Nathan in just his diaper, Trent in his flannel pants), only to have Nathan spit up down the front of Trent's chest. Bless my husband for his sense of humor and matter-of-fact clean up of the situation. Last night after Daddy got home from work, he put Nathan on the floor for some tummy time. With cheering and encouragement from both Trent and Dan (my youngest brother), Nathan flipped himself over from front to back. Trent said he briefly thought about getting a stopwatch to see if he could time a repeat performance. I'm encouraging him to fight these soccer dad responses.

As I write, Nathan's asleep in his Baby Papasan seat on the floor next to me. I'm feeling a little concerned: he's been asleep for close to seven hours. I've tried waking him, but this child sleeps the sleep of the dead. Noise, light, moving him, prying his eyelids open - he'll still sleep. The only thing that works on a fairly regular basis is to strip all clothing off him except his diaper and put a wet washcloth on his head. I hate to go to such dire straits when he's so peaceful... maybe I'll eat lunch first.

New Family Member!

Baby Stanley is now here - and has an actual name. : )

I actually went into labor on my due date, but Nathan Eugene was born the next morning on September 8th at 8:04 a.m. 8 pounds, 5 ounces; 22 inches long (no wonder my ribs experienced so much tap dancing that last trimester; the kid must have been wound tighter than the proverbial drum).

I hope to post more about Nathan later, but for now stop by the web site my husband's updating.

Off to go bond some more with my son...

Not Quite Time

After waiting until contractions were 2-3 minutes apart, we went to the hospital. Once there, contractions were only 6 minutes apart and I was measured at 1 cm dilated, ~10% effaced.

We were there 2-3 hours; contractions eased off, though I still made progress (got up closer to 2 cm dilated). I walked the halls for a while (even did jumping jacks), but it looks like it could be a good 5-6 hours before I'm really in need of a hospital, so... I'm back home.

Like I told DH, I just feel foolish. I don't want to be a burden on anyone or ask for more than is necessary, so thinking I was much further along and finding out how early things are means I don't feel like I can trust my estimation of what a contraction feels like, how far apart they are, or anything in that realm.

I'm tired. I was up 'til 3 this morning timing contractions, then woke ~6:30/7 to start timing the next round of contractions. I need to go to bed.

Is This... ???

Well, contractions are five minutes apart or so and have been for the last hour. I'm hoping this is it - particularly after all the times I've timed contractions, stayed up late (or gotten up early) and felt my hopes rise, only to have everything fade.

Wouldn't you know it'd happen that I can't reach my husband on the cell phone (I don't know if he's out of range or has it turned off or what) and neither can I reach my mom. I can drive myself to the hospital if necessary, but I'd really rather prefer to have SOMEONE there with me...

Hearing Cries of "Wolf!" Regularly These Days

I've been having contractions (whether Braxton-Hicks or otherwise) since 2nd trimester. Those I can handle. What I haven't enjoyed are the 2-3 times in the last week or so when I've had contractions over random intervals for several hours or even regularly-spaced intense contractions that fade away after an extended time. Despite my best efforts, I get my hopes up that maybe this time will be the time I end up at the hospital with DH and emerge with a new family member.

I finally gave up today after timing for four hours, only to have 7 minutes between contractions suddenly turn into 20 minutes. It got to be too painful to hope that "maybe this time the contraction intervals won't increase."

I'm three days from my due date and alternating between impatience and tired apathy/disappointment.

Pouring Rain

It's been a figurative downpour these last couple weeks...

I'm having contractions on a pretty regular basis, but nothing that turns into anything substantial. After 5 hours of contractions one night, Baby's heart rate increased into the 170's (it should be in the 140's to 150's). It went down eventually, but I was told to go in to the hospital the next morning for a no stress test. They wanted to make sure Baby didn't have the cord wrapped around his/her neck or anything like that. Baby's fine, just enjoying the opportunity to play with parental expectations, I guess!

Friday of last week we got a call that my paternal grandmother was in a car accident with a Ford F350 pick-up towing a goose neck trailer of metal pipes. The accident was Grandma's fault; those in the truck had only minor injuries, but Grandma was killed. She was 83, and she'd had a stroke a little over a year ago; the family had been bracing ourselves for the last year that she probably wouldn't be here much longer.

All the same, bracing for something to happen and expecting it to happen on a given day are two different things. Within two days Grandma's five children, two remaining siblings, 16 grandchildren (6 of whom are married, 3 with kids of their own) and a bajillion family friends and extended relatives had been contacted and started making travel plans. We had people coming in from Monterrey, Mexico; New Zealand; San Francisco; Atlanta; driving from eastern Pennsylvania - the family group alone was 41 people. The family spent time together last Sunday night; family viewing was Monday morning, visitation Monday night, funeral #1 (in her current hometown) was Tuesday morning and funeral #2 (in the hometown where she and Grandpa lived for close to 40 years) was Wednesday morning.

One of my hopes headed into the weekend was that I wouldn't go into labor before it was all through. As the days progressed, I started leaning the other direction. Going through labor, yes, but in a private hospital room with nurses to run interference for me - and the added benefit of distant relatives getting to see Baby before they headed back home. Most visiting family members are now on their way home, though, and Baby's still doing dance routines on my ribs. Ah, well.

DH [Dear Husband] and I went out for supper last night at Subway. In the midst of my sandwich, slightly hunched over the table, I got an upward kick in my sternum that felt like a sucker punch to my chin. It was strong enough that I snapped into an upright sitting posture with a sort of dazed look on my face. If I can be charged with child abuse, can babies in utero be charged with parent abuse?

I'm REALLY ready for this little person to be born.

36 Weeks and Counting...

According to BabyCenter.com's weekly email, I should postpone any unnecessary travel plans - particularly anything to do with flying somewhere.

So much for wanting to see New Zealand before this baby's born.

Seriously, I'm just ready for this to be done. Other tasks have gotten difficult in the last few weeks: standing up, sitting down, walking, sleeping, shaving - even trying to stretch out my hamstrings at night before bed. I now have to face almost 45 degrees inside of my leg and stretch kind of sideways; my stomach size doesn't allow any closer interaction.

I have a box of chocolates from my favorite Swiss chocolatier, a paper chain with a link for each day from now until 2 weeks past my due date (I'm trying to set my expectations in advance for going past my due date and possibly being induced), all baby items organized, and just have to pack my bag for the hospital and assemble the list of names and phone numbers to call.

In 28 days or fewer I'll have a baby strapped around my middle in a sling instead of encased in my skin. -Hurry it up already, Baby!

Personal Space

Without my say-so, I have become more European in the matter of personal space: closer is better.

The last week has contained several conversations with Junior regarding the need for my rib cage and internal organs to occupy at least some space in my abdominal cavity. Husband thinks the kicks in the ribs are just practice flutter kicks.

I won't be surprised if this little person emerges from the womb and wants its little face two inches from mine for the first several months of its life - until Baby realizes he/she is American and can't handle being closer than three feet to anyone unless romance or family duty is involved.

Financial Nesting

Ack... Some expectant women nest by picking out paint samples. Since I currently lack a house (I don't think my parents would appreciate it if I suddenly repaint a random room to resemble a nursery), I have to substitute.

I spent a few hours this afternoon sorting through old financial records. Mortgage here, electric bills there, past insurance policy numbers over here, all health records for family members there, car info here, addresses there - oh, wait; looks like that should be split into current and prior folders... I need a bigger filing cabinet.

Don't I lead an exciting life? My afternoon session with paper (and no paper cuts, amazingly enough!) was only matched by watching our dog Sugar lie down in the wading pool and dunk her entire head under water. She's gotten in the habit of lying down (whether out of the pool or in it) to drink. She's either a natural blond or discovering some long-lost bond with her wild African forebears.

MN Survival

Sorry for the long hiatus from posting. I was attacked first by apathy and then influenced for the last week by a lack of computer access.

-But I have SURVIVED!!! What did I survive, you ask? At 32/33 wks pregnant, I willingly took a 7-hr drive to a remote cabin in northern Minnesota that had electricity, running water and heat but no air-conditioning. I not only survived, but I actually enjoyed myself.

For the last decade and more, some segment of my family has gone to Brookside Resort for a week in the summer. This was the first year that all of the kids were there, plus spouses, significant others and children. It was quite a crew to pack into two cabins.

We got back Saturday afternoon to much hotter temps (I escaped back into the air-conditioned house and cranked ceiling fans on high). A nearby locale had a heat index this last week of 118 degrees Fahrenheit.

I think I'll be spending much of this next week indoors.

I Don't Know Whether to Blame Baby or Blondeness

I had another doctor's appointment yesterday afternoon. After being weighed (always a pleasant experience when you're pregnant, trust me), I was sent to the bathroom with my sterile cup to provide the standard urine sample.

I went in, did my business and was fastening my capris (mentally noting to sling the waistband under my burgeoning belly so my doctor could measure my tummy and listen to Baby's heartbeat) - then looked at the sink and saw the still-sealed specimen cup, which was empty.

There have been eight doctor's visits, and each one has maintained certain elements - like providing a urine sample. I have no idea where my brain went for that block of time. I was left wondering whether I should rush into the exam room, glug the entire contents of my water bottle and try to put a rush order through to my bladder OR put pressure on my bladder to deliver even just a little more. Thankfully only a few drops are needed for the tests they run, so Option #2 worked well.

Could've been worse. One of my girlfriends spent the morning of her birthday providing a urine sample at an OB appointment while her 4-yr-old serenaded her with "Onward, Christian Soliders."

At least my dilemma didn't have a soundtrack.

It's Official

...I'm now a certified fuddy-duddy.

Just consider what splendiferous find I rejected this afternoon: perfect maternity underwear from Victoria's Secret.

I made a trip to the mall today to stop by Old Navy and do some other things. Walking past VS, I glanced at the windows and did not a double-take, but a triple-take. One of the mannequins was wearing what I can only describe as reverse-thong underwear: material for both sides of the gluteus maximus, but a gap of material in-between to display the cleft between the buttocks. Don't worry about the whole modesty thing; there were three perky pink satin bows holding the gap closed like safety pins across a gaping tear.

My response: What on earth would you wear over such an underthing? Panty lines have nothing on outlines of bows under a skirt or pants.

My mom's response when I described them: How does one sit down in them? Isn't it uncomfortable to feel bows embedded into one's rear?

Trent's response (which cracked me up): Does this mean you'd no longer have to put your underwear down to go to the bathroom?

Hallelujah that I'm past the age where I would have pooh-poohed this publicly but secretly wanted to have the body to wear them. Now? I wholeheartedly, 100% consider them utterly, insanely ludicrous.

Victoria can keep this secret, for all I care.

I've Got a Terminal Disease...

That's the only explanation I can find where medical insurance is concerned. Outside of being on an employer's plan and not going without coverage for more than 60 days, any insurance company considers pregnancy a pre-existing condition and will not cover someone in my situation: we moved, I had to give up prior insurance (since I was no longer working for the same place), Trent's employer has a reimbursement plan for insurance instead of plans through the company and... we'll be paying the remainder of Baby Stanley's costs out-of-pocket.

I'm really glad we moved from an area where prenatal care and a normal delivery runs $7,000-$10,000 to an area where it's just over $5,000... -Oh, and happy parenting!

In other news, I've come to resemble a storm front: I have my own leading edge. As I explained to Trent today, I no longer bend at the waist - I have to tip forward. Pregnancy is not an upright proposition. I must either tip (to reach forward) or recline (when seated). Here's hoping I can maintain at least a 30 degree range of motion forward and backward until delivery - Trent will have to be tying the drawstring on my shorts/pants, not just tying my shoelaces.

What on Earth Have I Been Doing?!

It continues to astonish me how little I do during the day, yet how little energy I have... Today, I can only say I read, worked on a gift for a friend, attended a home party for Usborne[sic] Books, and slept. It was supposed to be a nap to catch up on missed sleep the night before.

I went to bed at 1:15 p.m. and woke up at 5:06 p.m.

So much for that grand idea of getting back on a 'normal' schedule... I'm only just now feeling sleepy again.

Master, the Monster is Alive!!!

This morning I woke up and thought I had a knot in an abdominal muscle from my sleep position. I probed the knot to see how deep it was - and it moved to the other side of my rib cage.

Revision of diagnosis: knot!=cramp; knot=baby appendage

Talk about bizarre... For a few minutes I felt all over again like I'm hosting some kind of alien that's going to burst out of my abdomen when it's fully matured. Trent told me we won't be watching any of the "Alien" movies or "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" between now and when the baby's born to prevent nightmares.

The kicks/jabs/punches are getting stronger, too. Trent's had his ear against my stomach a couple times now and gotten kicked in the face. Whether Baby knows it or not, he/she has already received lectures about not kicking Daddy. : )

Baby's First Tornado Warning

In the Midwest, severe weather is a foregone conclusion, particularly in spring/early summer or winter. Last night was Baby's first [in utero] exposure to incoming storms... Lights off, local radio station on, all people in the house with flashlights, waiting to see if the sirens blew or not, guys at the windows to watch for the approaching damage, etc. This last item must be a control thing, since it's hard to see anything approaching at 11 p.m.

As usual, the storm actually split around our small town. I'm sure once would be enough, but just once - once - I'd like to actually see a tornado. I feel like my Midwest membership is in question until that day.

Don't get me wrong: it was nice to have a roof over our heads this morning and have everyone in the family alive and uninjured.

Welcome back to springtime in Iowa.

Woo-Hoo!

Read 'em and weep: 10 straight hours of uninterrupted sleep last night. YAY!!!

Now... if I could just convince my three-year-old nephew to sleep past 7 a.m., the rest of the family would be set.

I Got Those Benadryl Blues...

Would someone please tell me how I'm supposed to "get sleep while you can before the baby comes" if my body didn't get the same message?

Sleep has become like a logic problem, with a rapidly decreasing number of solutions. Lying on my stomach? Um... You try sleeping draped over a good-sized melon and let me know how long you last.

Lying on my back? If pregnancy books are to be believed, the baby will (uncaring) cut off blood returning to my heart from my legs as casually as stomping on a garden hose. The result is numb legs and lower oxygen delivery to the baby - it kind of makes me wonder if we're masochistic from conception.

Lying on my left side? This, according to experts, is best. For whatever reason, my body responds to this position by putting the entire left side of my rib cage to sleep - numb, but with tingling sensations that don't let up. It's like trying to sleep while lying on a vibrating massager from Homedics.

Up until last night, lying on my right side worked (provided the pillow configuration was correct; I'm up to four pillows now, three regular-sized, one body pillow). Last night I was determined to get a full night's sleep, so I took two Benadryl. I knew I'd wake up the morning after with a really dried out nose and mouth, but I value sleep more at this point than moist nasal passages.

Last night the Benadryl betrayed me. I learned later that antihistamines can kick off Restless Legs Syndrome in pregnant women. RLS is a lovely, innocuous acronym for a tingling sensation or even waves of pain in your legs. The mind associates the sensations with muscle cramping or nerves falling asleep. Solution? Move your legs. Problem? To sleep, you have to ignore these sensations for X amount of time until you fall asleep.

I finally fell asleep in a recliner in the family room around 2:30 this morning, trying to keep my mind off the tingling. I woke at 4, moved to a couch, slept 'til 5:30, then went back to bed and crashed until after 10.

No Benadryl tonight. I guess my body will let me sleep when I really need it.