Monday, September 27, 2010

The 411

So, I love a good story. I'm not saying this particular story is a good one, but it sure has a good twist. Here's how it all went down:

It was Jason's night to tuck Em into bed. That means that the parent tucking her in usually gets two extra hours of sleep because each of us inevitably passes out in her snuggly bed from sheer exhaustion. The other parent either makes a wise choice with their evening and goes to bed at the same time or chooses to do one of several other things like: dishes, laundry, channel surfing, reading, emails, volunteer work, jewelry making (me, not Jason, of course) or farting around on Facebook.

I'm pretty sure that night I was farting around doing nothing important...but one thing is for sure, I hadn't chosen to go to bed at a decent hour!

I finally crawled into bed by midnight.

Then, two and a half SHORT hours later, I woke up to cramps and contractions.

They were 2 - 3 minutes apart. They weren't bad but they weren't wonderful, either. It wasn't like I could "nap" between contractions. I laid there for about an hour and then told Jason that I thought we'd probably have a baby sometime that day...

I hadn't showered in a couple of days so hopped in the shower at about 3:30 a.m. I hadn't shaved in even longer, so I shaved, too.

I hadn't packed my bag, either. I know. It was August 28th and my due date was August 31st...most people would be packed by then...but I'm not most my mind, as long as I didn't pack my bag, he'd come when I said so...and I wasn't ready to "say so". Silly me...

My girlfriends and I were supposed to enjoy gluten-free treats and pedicures at noon on the 28th so my toe-sies would be cute for delivery...we had to cancel. Let's just say, I hadn't planned ahead, but his room was done, at least...

Anyway, finally at 5:00 a.m. I called our friends, Drew and Gina, and asked if they wanted to wake up at our house. Gina assured me that they did, so once they arrived at 5:45, Jason and I were out the door. Before we left, we told Em that she'd be waking up to Drew and Gina at the house. Yeah, right! She didn't go back to bed...she was WIDE awake!

My contractions were not letting up, still between 2 and a half and 3 minutes apart, but not so intense that I couldn't breathe or talk or walk just fine. The problem is we live 45 minutes from the hospital and I was paranoid with this being my third delivery, of being too far away and having things progress quickly, so we hopped into the car.

On the way I called my Ob/Gyn office, which had an answering service, of course, seeing as how it was the weekend and about 6 o'clock in the morning. I answered a slew of questions and then she informed me that Dr. Who The Heck Knows Who was on call that weekend. It was a third party doctor and I had never heard her name before that moment.

I freaked. Tears started streaming. I told the answering service that I really wanted Mr. Favorite Doctor to at least know I was going to the hospital. She told me to tell the nurses once I got up to the floor. I told myself to breathe.

You see, Mr. Favorite Doctor is the top of the food chain. He's the big cheese in his office and only takes call during the week, during office hours. And, of course, why would my body coordinate natural childbirth during his office hours, right?!

Anyway, we got to the ER to check in and then headed up to the L and D floor. I had drafted texts to about 50 people to let them know we'd be having a baby that day...I waited until most of them were awake on that fine Saturday morning before I hit "send".

...and then we got up to the floor...and the nurse "checked" me...and...

...I was at a "One".


Jason's friend called him for the 411...I gave him the "if looks could kill" look and told him he wasn't allowed to tell anyone I was only at a "One". With Emily I had been at a "One" for a whole month! With Noah I was at a 3 and a half when I walked up to Labor and Delivery and had him 3 hours later.

The nurse was even talking of sending me home. Oh no, baby, I was not going home! I was in labor. I knew I was in labor. But, just so you know, a pregnant lady's definition of labor and the working definition the docs and nurses go by are WAAAAAY

This is where the whole story turns emotional...but this post is entirely too long and I have to go to bed, so I'll have to finish this post when I'm not feeding, pumping, sleeping, or homeschooling...there is more to this story.

Thursday, September 09, 2010


I know I've been MIA...I can't help it. I'm totally smitten and loving it, but dreading it at the same time...Love is complicated. I'm also exhausted getting only 2 and a half hour sleep cycles in each night, but I know that won't last forever. Here are things I love:

  • I love Ryan's peach's dreamy and soft and all over his sweet shoulders, his back and his sweet cheeks. I just can't explain how much I love his fuzz...
  • I love that God designed him to fit perfectly with his soft, fuzzy head cupped in my hands, arms together, with his buns resting perfectly at the fold at my this position I can smooch his face all over.
  • I love that my lips fit perfectly between his fuzzy shoulder and his sweet little ear.
  • I love when I stick my pinky in his hand he actually holds it...his brother never held my hand...ever...
  • I love that he throws punches like a sailor in a bar brawl when he's hungry...and when he burps and toots, he could easily beat out college boys in a competition.
  • I love that he smiles and puckers and smirks and pouts when he's dreaming dreams of who knows what.
  • I love a lot of other things, too, like how much his daddy loves him and wanted to remember his life long friend every day for the rest of his life so blessed him with a great name like Ryan, which means "Joyous King" and a middle name like Everett which means "Brave & Strong".
  • I love that his big sister is so proud of him and wants to hold him and change his buns and snuggle him...even though it's been a big transition for her.
I'm not going to lie. I could make a list of what I hate, too. It's been hard as hell. I've been on an emotional roller coaster, much like the Corkscrew at Cedar Point in Ohio. As much as I love being Ryan's mommy, (I tell him that multiple times throughout the day, "I'm your mommy! I'm your mommy! I'm your mommy!") I'm riding the fence of loving every single little thing he does and staring at every single little thing he does, hoping and praying that he's not like his big brother...

The stress of little sleep and staring to make sure Ryan is okay every other minute have added up a bit and yesterday, as a result, I pumped a whopping 1/8 of an inch of milk, which equals about a half an ounce. Stress and nursing do not go hand in hand, though ironically, they go hand in hand, so I am trying to consciously chill out.

How's that workin' for me?

Well, I'm just taking one day at a time. I'm enjoying the peach fuzz. I'm trying to sneak in snuggle time with my girl as we all adjust to a new schedule. He and I are reading the Psalms and will head into Proverbs soon. I am taking deep breaths, allowing myself to cry and laugh...and just trusting that the love in my heart for my husband, daughter and son is enough to span a lifetime, but meant to be spent one day at a time.

That, I believe, is the most difficult part of being a mommy...the "one day at a time" part...

Em came into the delivery room very shortly after her brother was born. She held him right after Daddy did.
Exhibit A: Peach Fuzz
Em decorated the house and put up streamers that she wanted me to cut, like at the Chamber of Commerce. Pretty darn cute, I'd say!

He is literally just that sweet!

Em and I were cracking up, commentating what we thought Ryan was thinking...we're going to make a video and post it...stay tuned.
My friend wrapped him up like little bunny foo foo.
The sweetest big sister eh-ver.

Em bought that little monkey for her brother when I first told her I was pregnant. She is pretty much the best big sister in the whole wide world. It's been quite an adjustment for her, but she has been very gracious. I am really, really proud of her. I think she's proud of him, too.