I recently joined a local mom's group through meetup.com so that I could try to make some new friends. In the almost 6 years of living here, I really only got to know people through work. Now that I am not longer working, it can get pretty lonely.
Anyway, when I joined this group, I was super excited and ready to "get out there". I had my first meetup last week and only one other mom showed up. Now don't get me wrong, I had a great time meeting her! She was super sweet and her little girl is absolutely adorable. We also got along great and plan to get together again. I was a little disappointed that out of over 400 members, we were the only two that went but it worked out great.
The night before that meetup, I was a little nervous. Mostly, the normal jitters of meeting someone new. I was wondering how we would find each other. Would we have enough to talk about? Would Weston have a meltdown? Many things went through my head but I talked myself down and went. The thing that helped was that we were meeting at our local grocery store which I know very well to grab lunch (it's not your typical grocery store, they have fantastic prepared foods section and seating to eat).
Fast forward to tonight. I have my second meetup tomorrow. I'm very nervous about this for a few reasons. It is at someone's house. I have never been there and am not 100% sure how to get there. I don't know anyone that is going to be there. It is at 11:30 am and I have to get us ready, go to the grocery store and then get there in time while making sure I feed and change Weston. The final thing that is putting me on edge is that they are forecasting ice here. I am so nervous to drive in unfavorable conditions now that I have Weston.
Part of my anxiety may be coming from the ppd. I get nervous around new people now and when I am put in unfamiliar situations and places. I always think of the what-ifs. What if we hit a patch of black ice and get into an accident? What if I can't find the place? What if they don't like me? Ugh. I hate these feelings and wish I could just be excited.
"Your first breath took ours away"
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Happy 4 monthday to my baby boy!
I truly cannot believe how fast he is growing. I swear he learns something new every day. He now likes to stick his tongue out. See?
He can sit on his own for a few seconds:
He blows raspberries and knows how to pout:
He still prefers to snuggle with his mama and is not all that into independent play. He has truly brought so much joy to my life and I can't begin to describe the swell of emotions that comes over me at various points throughout the day. It is unbelievable that you can love someone so much after only knowing him for 4 short months.
I am excited to watch him grow and learn but am a little sad that it is all going so fast.
Wow, if I am this emotional over 4 months, watch out for his 1st birthday ... I'm giving you fair warning!
I am currently reading the Baby-Led Weaning
(BLW) book in preparation for solids. His pediatrician said we could start him on rice cereal but everything I was reading said it wasn't necessary until 6 months. He is thriving on breast milk alone right now so why mess with that? I also agree with the thoughts behind BLW. It makes sense really. I wouldn't want to be force-fed food that I don't get to see first. I like to be in control of what goes into my mouth. Also, the idea is that babies learn to chew food and are less likely to choke. Another plus is that they feed themselves which frees mom and dad up to enjoy their own food.
However, while doing some research, I came across this article. I am now utterly confused. Do we give him solids now, at 4 months or do we wait? He is doing well so far but, like most parents, I don't want this decision to negatively affect him later on. I would be interested to hear from other moms regarding this new research...
ETA: This is the World Health Organization's response.
He can sit on his own for a few seconds:
He can push himself up to a standing position when he has something behind him:
He can even stand while holding on to stuff:
Oh and he enjoys playing with his feet and, ahem, other things while having a bath:
I am excited to watch him grow and learn but am a little sad that it is all going so fast.
Wow, if I am this emotional over 4 months, watch out for his 1st birthday ... I'm giving you fair warning!
I am currently reading the Baby-Led Weaning
(BLW) book in preparation for solids. His pediatrician said we could start him on rice cereal but everything I was reading said it wasn't necessary until 6 months. He is thriving on breast milk alone right now so why mess with that? I also agree with the thoughts behind BLW. It makes sense really. I wouldn't want to be force-fed food that I don't get to see first. I like to be in control of what goes into my mouth. Also, the idea is that babies learn to chew food and are less likely to choke. Another plus is that they feed themselves which frees mom and dad up to enjoy their own food.However, while doing some research, I came across this article. I am now utterly confused. Do we give him solids now, at 4 months or do we wait? He is doing well so far but, like most parents, I don't want this decision to negatively affect him later on. I would be interested to hear from other moms regarding this new research...
ETA: This is the World Health Organization's response.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Pet Peeves
I have a pet peeve. When it happens, I literally want to pull my hair out. I would actually welcome nails scratching a chalk board over this one thing, lip smacking/chewing. I ABSOLUTELY cannot stand hearing someone chew.
Mike chews with his mouth open all the time. He chews, licks his lips, chews again. Every time we eat dinner together, which is almost every night, I have to ask him to stop. Honestly, it isn't even comfortable to chew that way! You would think that after 8 years of being together, he would understand that that triggers the "beast" in me. The first time, I ask nicely or make a joke. The second time, I show my irritation and utter disgust. The third time? Well, the third time my face gets red, my voice gets loud and I want to rip my ears off!
Seriously, it is that bad. The only thing worse than hearing someone chew during dinner is gum chewing in a quiet, enclosed car. The last time this happened, I was stuck in the back of a truck with no music on. Only the sound of this person's gum chewing and popping to keep me company. I literally wanted to break out a window and bail regardless of the speed at which we were traveling. Anything to put me out of my my misery.
There is no real point to this. It is just on my mind because Mike is sitting next to me chewing his ice cream...who chews ice cream anyway?
Mike chews with his mouth open all the time. He chews, licks his lips, chews again. Every time we eat dinner together, which is almost every night, I have to ask him to stop. Honestly, it isn't even comfortable to chew that way! You would think that after 8 years of being together, he would understand that that triggers the "beast" in me. The first time, I ask nicely or make a joke. The second time, I show my irritation and utter disgust. The third time? Well, the third time my face gets red, my voice gets loud and I want to rip my ears off!
Seriously, it is that bad. The only thing worse than hearing someone chew during dinner is gum chewing in a quiet, enclosed car. The last time this happened, I was stuck in the back of a truck with no music on. Only the sound of this person's gum chewing and popping to keep me company. I literally wanted to break out a window and bail regardless of the speed at which we were traveling. Anything to put me out of my my misery.
There is no real point to this. It is just on my mind because Mike is sitting next to me chewing his ice cream...who chews ice cream anyway?
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
What's in a Name?
I feel the need to explain my choice in blog names. Some may get it but just in case...
My life right now is ALL about my son, as if that was hard to see. I had become somewhat OCD about the cleanliness of our place. It drives me nuts to have a messy home. This has been a source of many arguments between Mike and me. He isn't dirty but he is messy.
Since Weston, however, I have really let things go. It still really bothers me but I am able to block it out better. The reason I have let things go is because I would much rather play with Weston or just snuggle with him throughout the day. In my opinion, Weston will only be this little for a short time. He will never remember that stack of mail sitting on the dining room table but he will remember having fun with his mom, or at least I hope he will remember.
There is a poem that I saw once that has really stuck with me:
I hope that my child, looking back on today
Will remember a mother who had time to play;
Because children grow up while you're not looking,
There are years ahead for cleaning and cooking.
So, quiet now cobwebs, dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.
A longer version that I really love is:
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
- Ruth Hulbert Hamilton
I don't want to look back at this time and regret anything. I will get back my clean house one day but for now we will deal with dust bunnies in exchange for baby giggles.
My life right now is ALL about my son, as if that was hard to see. I had become somewhat OCD about the cleanliness of our place. It drives me nuts to have a messy home. This has been a source of many arguments between Mike and me. He isn't dirty but he is messy.
Since Weston, however, I have really let things go. It still really bothers me but I am able to block it out better. The reason I have let things go is because I would much rather play with Weston or just snuggle with him throughout the day. In my opinion, Weston will only be this little for a short time. He will never remember that stack of mail sitting on the dining room table but he will remember having fun with his mom, or at least I hope he will remember.
There is a poem that I saw once that has really stuck with me:
I hope that my child, looking back on today
Will remember a mother who had time to play;
Because children grow up while you're not looking,
There are years ahead for cleaning and cooking.
So, quiet now cobwebs, dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.
A longer version that I really love is:
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
- Ruth Hulbert Hamilton
I don't want to look back at this time and regret anything. I will get back my clean house one day but for now we will deal with dust bunnies in exchange for baby giggles.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
A Tough Subject
I said in my intro post that I would talk about postpartum depression (ppd). I was diagnosed around the two month mark but should have called my doctor sooner. I refused to admit that I had a problem. Part of it was a pride issue. I have been through a lot in my life and never needed help emotionally. I'm not going to get into all of the gory details of my past but my life could have been a movie. Needless to say, I am in complete shock that something as wonderful as becoming a mother caused me to fall so far and so hard.
I have always wanted to be a mother. I was over the moon when I found out I was pregnant in September of 2009 and completely heartbroken when I miscarried around 6 weeks. Needless to say I was cautiously optimistic when I saw those two pink lines again on January 12, 2010. I had a fairly uneventful pregnancy, not counting the bright red bleeding scare early on.
I had no way of knowing how I would feel after Weston arrived. I attribute a lot of how I felt to the c-section. I was not prepared to miss out on the way I had always envisioned my child entering this world. It has been hard for me to deal with letting go of those lost moments but I'm working on it.
I was in complete denial for the first two months. I don't know, maybe I thought it was just the "baby blues" that we so often hear about. I should have known better when I wrote this:
I was obviously in denial. How could someone not see that they needed help after writing something like that. I will say that I think this was my absolute low point.
Not too long after this post, we had Weston's 2 month appointment. The pediatrician's office runs a ppd screening on all new moms. Initially, I wanted to lie on the form. My thinking was that I could handle it on my own. That was obviously not the case so I decided to be honest. They told me that I needed to call my OB's office right away. I had to do it that day or I would chicken out.
I am so glad that I called. I was a blubbering mess on the phone when I spoke to the nurse practitioner. She was very sweet and made sure that I was ok that day and that I didn't want to hurt myself or Weston (which, by the way, was never the case).
She decided that I needed to come in and talk to them so she scheduled me for early the next morning. As soon as I got into the room, I lost it again. We talked for a while and she prescribed Zoloft. I was a bit hesitant to take the medication. Once again I started wondering how something so wonderful could cause me to need to take medication to feel somewhat normal! In the end, I took it and am still taking it today.
I am by no means cured. I struggle every day to stay above this imaginary line of falling so far that I feel I will never recover. Some days, I slip up. Some day,s it's just too much. When that happens, I go in and give my sweet little boy a kiss and focus on this little person that I love more than I could ever explain.
This blog is not going to be a ppd blog but I do feel the need to talk about it sometimes. People, including me, seem to be ashamed of ppd as well as normal depression and don't talk about it. One of the most helpful things for me is to hear that I am not alone. It is also helpful to be reminded that this is not something that I caused and that it can happen to anyone.
I have always wanted to be a mother. I was over the moon when I found out I was pregnant in September of 2009 and completely heartbroken when I miscarried around 6 weeks. Needless to say I was cautiously optimistic when I saw those two pink lines again on January 12, 2010. I had a fairly uneventful pregnancy, not counting the bright red bleeding scare early on.
I had no way of knowing how I would feel after Weston arrived. I attribute a lot of how I felt to the c-section. I was not prepared to miss out on the way I had always envisioned my child entering this world. It has been hard for me to deal with letting go of those lost moments but I'm working on it.
I was in complete denial for the first two months. I don't know, maybe I thought it was just the "baby blues" that we so often hear about. I should have known better when I wrote this:
Friday, 05 November 2010
Angry
I had this post set to private and struggled with changing that. Maybe it will help to know that someone out there may read this. This is not fun to read and I didn't sugarcoat anything. It is however very real. Here goes...
Angry...that is how I feel right now. I think I am going through a strange grieving process right now and I am at the angry stage. The sad stage lasted for a really long time but now, now I'm just angry. I'm angry at everyone and everything. Nothing seems to take away the pain and the anger that I am feeling and that just makes me more, well, angry.
I'm angry about the birth first and foremost. I'm angry that it didn't go the way I wanted, no, needed it to go. I'm angry that I am now a statistic. I'm angry that I may have made choices that led to the cesarean. I'm angry that my doctor may have made choices that led to the cesarean. I'm angry that things just may have been out of everyone's hands and that I would have had a cesarean no matter what anyone did or didn't do. I'm angry with everyone that pressured me to have him by a certain point. I was perfectly fine going overdue but everyone else thought we should induce which may have been the reason I ended up with a cesarean.
I'm angry that my memory of Weston's birth is a sad one and that it will forever be tainted by being cut open. I'm angry that there is a very real possibility that I will never be able to experience the birth that I dream of. One where I labor for hours and my body pushes the baby out the way it is intended to happen. One where my baby is placed immediately on me after my body works so hard to bring my child into this world. One where I am able to immediately bond with my baby and breastfeed and do what is natural. I'm angry that that may never happen.
I'm angry that I feel so guilty for the way I feel. I'm angry that no one seems to notice that I'm struggling and I'm particularly angry that I feel like everyone has disappeared. I'm angry that my body failed me and that I failed my first born. I'm angry that I can never do it again or do it over. I can never have my first child again. I can never be excited about the birth again.
I'm angry that I'm not pregnant still and I'm really angry at anyone that is. I'm angry that I will never be able to feel him inside me again. I'm even more angry with anyone that gets to have "my" birth.
I'm angry that I can't seem to get anything done. I'm angry at Mike all the time and then I'm angry that I'm so angry with him and I can't seem to stop it. I'm angry with him for so many things but don't know what those things are. I'm angry that we live here. I'm angry that I have to go back to work. I'm angry that he can't seem to do anything about it. That he can't just make it work so that I can raise my child instead of some daycare provider that we don't even know. I'm angry that I have been so focused on this and it isn't even here yet.
I'm angry that my hospital stay was so hard after I "gave birth". I'm angry that no one helped me breastfeed when I asked them to in the beginning. I'm angry that I broke down in front of the other happy moms in the breastfeeding class while Weston wailed because he was so hungry after TWO full days of not eating. I'm angry that it took me breaking down to get some help. I'm angry that I just remember feeling so sad while we were in the hospital. I'm angry that I didn't feel overjoyed after I had my first baby, instead I felt sad. I'm angry that I felt like I had to and still have to hide these feelings.
I'm angry with everyone that came to visit us that made things difficult because they couldn't be adults and make their own travel arrangements. I'm angry that certain people made the first couple of weeks with Weston difficult.
I'm angry that nothing seems to be easy for me. I'm angry that I had to experience a miscarriage before Weston and that I can't wish it didn't happen because then he wouldn't be here. I'm angry at the way things happened in my childhood. I'm angry that I'll never get my childhood back and that I had to grow up so quickly.
I'm angry that I feel so angry right now instead of cherishing this precious time with Weston. I'm angry that I KNOW I will never be able to get this time back with him but that I can't just move on and be my happy self again. I'm angry that I've already lost so much time to being angry. I'm angry that I am not happy anymore and can't remember what that feels like. I'm angry that I probably need help but can't bring myself to ask for it.
Most of all, I'm angry that Weston has this "new"me for a mom. I don't know what to do. I don't feel like there is anyone out there that I can turn to. I know Mike wants to be there for me but I feel like I can't let him. I feel like such a failure as a wife, a mother, a person...oh and I'm angry at that too.
Angry...that is how I feel right now. I think I am going through a strange grieving process right now and I am at the angry stage. The sad stage lasted for a really long time but now, now I'm just angry. I'm angry at everyone and everything. Nothing seems to take away the pain and the anger that I am feeling and that just makes me more, well, angry.
I'm angry about the birth first and foremost. I'm angry that it didn't go the way I wanted, no, needed it to go. I'm angry that I am now a statistic. I'm angry that I may have made choices that led to the cesarean. I'm angry that my doctor may have made choices that led to the cesarean. I'm angry that things just may have been out of everyone's hands and that I would have had a cesarean no matter what anyone did or didn't do. I'm angry with everyone that pressured me to have him by a certain point. I was perfectly fine going overdue but everyone else thought we should induce which may have been the reason I ended up with a cesarean.
I'm angry that my memory of Weston's birth is a sad one and that it will forever be tainted by being cut open. I'm angry that there is a very real possibility that I will never be able to experience the birth that I dream of. One where I labor for hours and my body pushes the baby out the way it is intended to happen. One where my baby is placed immediately on me after my body works so hard to bring my child into this world. One where I am able to immediately bond with my baby and breastfeed and do what is natural. I'm angry that that may never happen.
I'm angry that I feel so guilty for the way I feel. I'm angry that no one seems to notice that I'm struggling and I'm particularly angry that I feel like everyone has disappeared. I'm angry that my body failed me and that I failed my first born. I'm angry that I can never do it again or do it over. I can never have my first child again. I can never be excited about the birth again.
I'm angry that I'm not pregnant still and I'm really angry at anyone that is. I'm angry that I will never be able to feel him inside me again. I'm even more angry with anyone that gets to have "my" birth.
I'm angry that I can't seem to get anything done. I'm angry at Mike all the time and then I'm angry that I'm so angry with him and I can't seem to stop it. I'm angry with him for so many things but don't know what those things are. I'm angry that we live here. I'm angry that I have to go back to work. I'm angry that he can't seem to do anything about it. That he can't just make it work so that I can raise my child instead of some daycare provider that we don't even know. I'm angry that I have been so focused on this and it isn't even here yet.
I'm angry that my hospital stay was so hard after I "gave birth". I'm angry that no one helped me breastfeed when I asked them to in the beginning. I'm angry that I broke down in front of the other happy moms in the breastfeeding class while Weston wailed because he was so hungry after TWO full days of not eating. I'm angry that it took me breaking down to get some help. I'm angry that I just remember feeling so sad while we were in the hospital. I'm angry that I didn't feel overjoyed after I had my first baby, instead I felt sad. I'm angry that I felt like I had to and still have to hide these feelings.
I'm angry with everyone that came to visit us that made things difficult because they couldn't be adults and make their own travel arrangements. I'm angry that certain people made the first couple of weeks with Weston difficult.
I'm angry that nothing seems to be easy for me. I'm angry that I had to experience a miscarriage before Weston and that I can't wish it didn't happen because then he wouldn't be here. I'm angry at the way things happened in my childhood. I'm angry that I'll never get my childhood back and that I had to grow up so quickly.
I'm angry that I feel so angry right now instead of cherishing this precious time with Weston. I'm angry that I KNOW I will never be able to get this time back with him but that I can't just move on and be my happy self again. I'm angry that I've already lost so much time to being angry. I'm angry that I am not happy anymore and can't remember what that feels like. I'm angry that I probably need help but can't bring myself to ask for it.
Most of all, I'm angry that Weston has this "new"me for a mom. I don't know what to do. I don't feel like there is anyone out there that I can turn to. I know Mike wants to be there for me but I feel like I can't let him. I feel like such a failure as a wife, a mother, a person...oh and I'm angry at that too.
I was obviously in denial. How could someone not see that they needed help after writing something like that. I will say that I think this was my absolute low point.
Not too long after this post, we had Weston's 2 month appointment. The pediatrician's office runs a ppd screening on all new moms. Initially, I wanted to lie on the form. My thinking was that I could handle it on my own. That was obviously not the case so I decided to be honest. They told me that I needed to call my OB's office right away. I had to do it that day or I would chicken out.
I am so glad that I called. I was a blubbering mess on the phone when I spoke to the nurse practitioner. She was very sweet and made sure that I was ok that day and that I didn't want to hurt myself or Weston (which, by the way, was never the case).
She decided that I needed to come in and talk to them so she scheduled me for early the next morning. As soon as I got into the room, I lost it again. We talked for a while and she prescribed Zoloft. I was a bit hesitant to take the medication. Once again I started wondering how something so wonderful could cause me to need to take medication to feel somewhat normal! In the end, I took it and am still taking it today.
I am by no means cured. I struggle every day to stay above this imaginary line of falling so far that I feel I will never recover. Some days, I slip up. Some day,s it's just too much. When that happens, I go in and give my sweet little boy a kiss and focus on this little person that I love more than I could ever explain.
This blog is not going to be a ppd blog but I do feel the need to talk about it sometimes. People, including me, seem to be ashamed of ppd as well as normal depression and don't talk about it. One of the most helpful things for me is to hear that I am not alone. It is also helpful to be reminded that this is not something that I caused and that it can happen to anyone.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
It's Steeler Sunday!
We are a Steelers household (or Stillers as they are called in da 'burgh). Well, that's not entirely true...Mike is a Lions fan but will cheer on the Steelers with us. We were so excited with the win last week; even if they had us worried during the first half.
See how excited Weston was?
We will have another picture from today after he takes a nap.
And one of us for good measure.
Speaking of pictures...I am unofficially doing the 365 project. I decided for the new year that I would take at least one picture of Weston every day this year and create a slide show or collage to show how much he changes over 2011. I figured he would grow faster this year than any other year. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm going to blink and it will be 2012 if 2010 is any indication! So, look for that slide show or collage around the first of the year. In the meantime, check out "Weston's Watch Me Grow" page on the blog to see his monthly portraits.
See how excited Weston was?
We will have another picture from today after he takes a nap.
And one of us for good measure.
Speaking of pictures...I am unofficially doing the 365 project. I decided for the new year that I would take at least one picture of Weston every day this year and create a slide show or collage to show how much he changes over 2011. I figured he would grow faster this year than any other year. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm going to blink and it will be 2012 if 2010 is any indication! So, look for that slide show or collage around the first of the year. In the meantime, check out "Weston's Watch Me Grow" page on the blog to see his monthly portraits.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Weston's Birth Story
***I wrote this shortly after Weston's Birth***
On Tuesday, September 28th, we arrived at the hospital around 6:00 pm for the gel to help ripen my cervix. I immediately had my bloody show and the contractions started. They monitored me for about an hour and then let us leave, saying they would see me at 7:30 am the next day for our scheduled induction.
We left and went to Panera for dinner. While waiting for our food, the contractions started getting stronger but not enough to make me miss out on dinner! 
The contractions progressively got worse and were anywhere from 3 to 4 minutes apart by 9:00 pm. My mom, Mike and I decided it was time to try to get some sleep since we figured Wednesday was going to be a long day. I couldn't sleep though and the contractions seemed worse while I was laying down so I decided to get up and take a shower. I showered, dried my hair and put some makeup on to help distract myself. By about 2:30 am, I couldn't take it anymore. My contractions were 2 to 3 minutes apart and lasted a minute or more so I woke Mike and said we needed to call and see if we should head in early. The doctor said to come on in!
We stopped at the bank on the way and took our time since we knew it would most likely be a while. When I got there, they admitted me without checking since I was already scheduled to be there in a few short hours. I was just a finger tip dilated and fully effaced at 4:30 am so they told me to try to get some rest but that I would be staying.
I was surprised at how strong the contractions already were but was able to get a bit of sleep here and there. At around 7:00 am the doctor decided to start the pitocin to get things moving. About 9:00 am (things start getting a little foggy at this point) the doctor came in and broke my water. I progressed to 3 cm in about a half an hour. The contractions were pretty strong and there wasn't much of a break in between. Mike had left the room for a bit to call his mom, get some coffee and some fresh air.
Around 10, I was talking to my mom and noticed that Weston's heart rate sounded strange on the monitor. I asked my mom what it was and all of a sudden a nurse (not mine) came in and started having me move from side to side and was moving the monitor around in a bit of a panic. She didn't say anything to me but I knew something was wrong. I started crying but I didn't want to distract her. The next thing I knew, my nurse and 3 others were in the room and they were paging my doctor.
I was terrified but then his heart rate came back up and things calmed down. My doctor told me that it had dropped very low, which I had already assumed, but that he was ok now. He wasn't too concerned at this point and said sometimes these things happen. Mike came back to the room and had missed the whole ordeal so I had to explain what happened because I was still a bit worked up.
Not too long after I started to calm down, the nurse rushed in again, paging the doctor at the same time so I knew it was happening again. Once his heart rate came back up, I knew what was coming because of the way my doctor was looking at me.
We had many conversations about how I really wanted to avoid a c-section but if the baby's health was at risk, I wouldn't question it. As soon as the words left his mouth, I broke down and couldn't stop crying. Mike and my mom were right there to comfort me. The doctor was also very comforting, telling me that everything will be ok and that it is what is best for the baby because he is obviously not doing well in there. I was actually very surprised at how compassionate my doctor was. I had trusted him all through this pregnancy and knew that I had to trust him now.
The next hour was a bit bittersweet. I knew my baby boy was coming soon but I was so heartbroken that I would not be getting the natural birth that I had always dreamed of. I cried a lot and didn't really talk very much because I was terrified. I had never had surgery and was so afraid of what was about to happen.
My c-section got pushed back a bit because of an emergency c-section so I had to wait a little longer than the originally thought. My situation was "urgent" but not "emergent" at this point. What made everything worse was that I was still having very strong contractions and did not have any pain medication. I just kept thinking about how I was going through this pain for nothing now.
I was finally brought into the OR around 12:10 pm. Mike had to wait outside while they did the spinal. Again, I was amazed at my doctor who actually held me still while they did the spinal. I've never heard of a doctor doing that. He also was trying to lighten the mood by dancing and singing which was great. After everything was prepped, they brought Mike in and things got started.
Weston Michael was born at 12:37 pm with the cord wrapped around his neck twice. I am forever grateful that my doctor made the call when he did to go for the section. Weston peed as soon as they pulled him out which caught the doctor off guard and gave everyone a good laugh.
He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I bawled as soon as I got a glimpse of my precious baby boy.
Weston was 8lbs, 6oz. 20.5 inches long and had a big head! He scored a 9 out of 10 on his apgar and was as pink as could be. The doctors are still amazed at his low bilirubin levels, not a trace of jaundice.
Mike was able to record the birth if you are interested in seeing it. It really isn't too graphic but you do see a bit of blood and can see them unwrapping the cord.
I am amazed every day that my son here and am so in love. I have had a really hard time letting the birth go but have been trying hard to remind myself that he is here and is healthy and that is all that matters. We struggled a lot in the beginning with breastfeeding and after many tearful days and nights, we finally got it. He was taking a bottle for a bit and then something just clicked and we haven't used a bottle in over a week.
I worry about my mood and hope that I am just experiencing the normal baby blues but we are keeping an eye on things to make sure they don't get worse. I am also so surprised at how much I miss being pregnant. I really ache to be pregnant again so hopefully that will pass soon.
Some pictures from the day:
Intro - first post!
Yes, another new mommy blog. I'm starting this blog so that I can remember these magical times if I'm lucky enough to be old and gray one day. I don't anticipate this blog getting much attention and that is just fine with me. I do like the idea of capturing moments and emotions as they occur since we all know what the human mind can do to memories.
Anyway, that is what this blog will be about. I will be discussing the joys of becoming and being a new mom, the transition to becoming a stay-at-home wife and mother (SAHM), as well as more difficult topics such as postpartum depression (ppd).
I am no english major so go easy on me on that front.
Up next...my birth story and one of the best days of my life!
Anyway, that is what this blog will be about. I will be discussing the joys of becoming and being a new mom, the transition to becoming a stay-at-home wife and mother (SAHM), as well as more difficult topics such as postpartum depression (ppd).
I am no english major so go easy on me on that front.
Up next...my birth story and one of the best days of my life!
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