Out of Avalon

November 3rd, 2009 by Ascelyn

I haven’t written in a while.  I feel lame, since this is the time I should probably record more than any other thus far, but I’ve been a little busy.  Just a little.

Michael is three weeks old today.  He’s big and thriving, and other than the typical newborn stuff, he’s a very easy baby.  He loves being held, but he’s starting to be more and more willing to let us put him down.  Right now, for example, he’s sleeping in his bouncer while I rock it with my foot so that I can have my hand free to type.  For the first week or so, he refused to be put down in his crib, swing, bouncer, you name it.

I’m going to try to make a series of posts over the next few days to catch up, but I might as well start at the beginning, which is the end.  Of pregnancy, that is.  By the time 39 weeks rolled around, I was huge and uncomfortable and DONE with being pregnant.  By 40 weeks, I was getting a tad impatient.  I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t move around properly, couldn’t get anything accomplished.  I was off work but could barely do dishes (my big belly kept me from getting close to the sink, so I had to lean over it, which hurt my back) and had to kneel on the ground to get clothes in and out of the washer and dryer.  By 41 weeks, Doc W was planning to induce, and I was starting to feel a bit desperate.  I had an appointment on October 13th at 11:30 to be examined and schedule the induction.  It would have been the 12th, but he had to go out of town for an emergency, so I was quickly seen by another doctor, rescheduled for the next day, and sent over to L&D for a routine non-stress test just in case.

I had been having very mild, very sporadic contractions all day, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.  After all, I was still only dilated to 2, partially effaced, and the contractions barely showed up on the monitor.  The NST gave the baby and me a shiny clean bill of health, and we were sent home.  Jason wanted cookies, so I baked and made a mess of the kitchen while he wiped the hard drive on my laptop and reinstalled Windows.  I wanted to keep on my feet as much as possible just in case the contractions might someday amount to something.  I eventually read a book in bed while he played with the computer in our room.  He refused to come to bed until after midnight, so I was a tad irritated at not being able to sleep with the lights on and him moving around.

Sleep was difficult even then because I kept having to get up and run to the bathroom every twenty or thirty minutes.  That ended around 3:00, when the baby seemed to decide that my cervix was a punching bag and hit me hard five times, followed by the most intense, longest contraction I think I’ve ever felt.  My water broke quickly thereafter, and the race was on.

I jumped out of bed quicker than I thought possible and ran to the bathroom.  Eventually I changed into jeans and a t-shirt and started throwing the few remaining necessities into my bag.  By the time I got downstairs and managed to get shoes on my feet, my water broke a second time.  I was soaked.  Since that was my last clean pair of maternity pants, I ended up going to the hospital in bright red pajama pants, a polo shirt, brown work shoes, and socks that I didn’t realize until far too late were jacked up ridiculously high.  We arrived around 4:30 a.m.

Our hospital doesn’t allow women to preregister, so I had to attempt to answer questions and fill out routine paperowrk between contractions.  Did I mention that my contractions had been coming about a minute apart since my water initially broke?  The paperwork never did get fully filled out.  My plans to stay at home for a long time, take a nice hot shower, use the jacuzzi, and stay active didn’t quite materialize.  I went from 2 cm upon arrival at the hospital to fully dialated and pushing by 8:00–about three and a half hours.  The nurses went from laughing at me for refusing the epidural they’d already ordered and Pitocin drip they’d tried to set up to amazed.  I never even had an IV.  Things seemed to be going amazingly well.

Then labor came to a stand-still.  Pushing took as long as dialating did.  The nurses kept telling me that they could feel the head and would call the doctor after one more push, but for some reason they didn’t for hours.  When he finally was called, he came quickly and determined that Michael was facing upward and stuck.  He tried to turn him, but there wasn’t room and Michael wouldn’t budge.  The anesthesiologist was called back to the hospital and a room was set up for a c-section.  Thankfully, I love Dr. W for a reason, and he tried one last time to turn the baby.  This time, he was successful, and despite reservations that the shoulders might not deliver properly, Michael was born at 11:37 that morning–right on time for what should have been my appointment to schedule his induction.

Apparently the poor kid has inherited his parents’ tendency to wait until the last minute for everything.  Nothing short of an impending induction and c-section would get him out.

The pain was never close to unbearable, although my back hurt horribly and I wanted to cry when they kept making me try to lay on my left side to get him to move down more.  I assumed it was the same backache I’d had for weeks, from being so off balance, but I wish the nurses would have listened and realized that it was because he was turned wrong.  I wish they would’ve called the doctor much earlier so that he could’ve been turned higher, where there was more room.  I was more exhausted than anything and not even really feeling the contractions anymore.  I could ignore them because I was so tired.  I hadn’t slept in two days and had been pushing for three hours, so I guess it wasn’t an unreasonable complaint.

His Apgars were 9 at both one and five minutes, and he was pink and screaming from the moment he was born.  People in both L&D and the nursery commented on how healthy he looked–more like an older baby than a newborn.

I had a second-degree tear, so they took the baby to the other side of the room to get him cleaned up while the doctor stitched me.  Jason stayed with the baby, at my request.  He had passed some meconium, so they wanted to take him to the nursery instead of letting him stay with me like I’d wanted.  I’d not yet even had a chance to see him up close, so one nice nurse finally let me hold him for a few seconds and attempt to nurse.  Since a few seconds was literally all I had, total, it didn’t work out.  He was taken away, and when pressed, they told me he’d be back in about half an hour.  They didn’t even want to tell me that and kept saying that it wouldn’t take long at all, but I wanted a concrete estimate.

Two hours later, I still hadn’t seen my baby and was getting worried that something was wrong.  My parents and brother had come and left to see him, but I still hadn’t gotten more than those few seconds.  I had just been left, alone, in the delivery room.  My mother came back and then left again to see why they hadn’t brought him back, and eventually a nurse came in and told me to get a shower.  I wouldn’t get to see him until I was showered and moved to the other side of the floor, to the postpartum area.

I settled into my new room and waited again.  Finally, Jason wheeled Michael in and we were given a few moments with him, though my family was still in the room playing paparazzi.  I kicked my father and brother out after a few moments and my mom helped me try to nurse him.  I was only partially successful, but after an hour or so he seemed to be content, and I’d promised him we could both take a nap.  He’d been given a bottle of formula in the nursery because he blood sugar was slightly low, so he was still pretty full from that.  (I still want to know why they didn’t let me try to nurse him, since it wasn’t by any means an emergency.)  At that point, the first and worst of the bad nurses arrived.  She looked at my chart, saw I intended to breastfeed, and asked if I had yet.  I told her that I’d tried and had fed him a little.  She decided I needed to nurse again right then and rolled me on my side to make me try.  I told her I’d already fed him and just needed to sleep.  She kept pushing, and I eventually started crying and couldn’t talk.  She then picked the baby up, told him that apparently his mother didn’t feel like taking care of him right then, and left, telling the other nurses and students outside the door that I must not really want to breastfeed and that they might as well mark Mikey down as a formula baby right then.  Jason retrieved him from the nursery for me and I slept a while before feeding him again.  I was stubborn and refused to call to ask for any  help with anything until her shift was over.

There were okay parts and bad parts for the next two days, but I was grateful when we left.  I asked a few times for help feeding him, but no one ever came.  He would latch on fine, suck two or three times, and then pull away.  This would go on and on, frustrating us both.  Finally, I ambushed a nurse who came in for something else, and she determined that he was pulling his tongue back in his mouth instead of laying it flat because of when they’d suctioned his mouth out after birth.  She brought me a nipple shield and helped me latch him on.  Unfortunately, she didn’t tell me that you’re only supposed to use it for a minute or so, then take it off and try without, so I’m still trying to wean him off the shield.  Don’t even get me started on the one and only lactation consultant in the area, who works for WIC (tell you something about our town?) and only wants to repeat her four or five points of info that I already know instead of listening and helping.  Everyone in an official capacity just wants to tell me that it’s okay if I have to use it, and please don’t stop using it if it means he doesn’t eat!!  Duh.  I haven’t.  That’s why he gained weight back so quickly.  But it’s annoying to need to carry it around with me, has promoted a lazy latch in my baby, takes much longer to nurse using, and apparently is known to cause women’s supply to drop off long before they want it to.  We’re working on it.

The first few days at home were both great and hard.  I think I pushed myself too hard, especially when we had visitors, and I backtracked in my healing.  I could barely walk and had to sleep downstairs in the baby’s room, away from either the internet or my books in the basement when I had questions.  At three weeks, I’m still not healed anywhere near where I think I ought to be, but I can do steps again, pick things up off the ground, and don’t need a stool to climb into bed.  I’ll get there, I guess.  I just wish that day would come sooner.

Our little moose is waking up, so I’ll go feed him and try to figure out where J is so I can start dinner afterward.

October 13th
11:37 am
8 lbs 15.4 oz
21.5″

September 30th, 2009 by Ascelyn

Here, at least, meaning “hanging around the house doing chores and sleeping a lot.”  This is a significant step up from the here that was “sitting at work being super uncomfortable and wishing I could be at home doing chores and sleeping a lot.”  Monday was my first day off, and while Certain Engineers at work weren’t too happy about it (even though she’s taking off a full week before her wedding; I think I have a better excuse), it seems to be for the best.

Bedroom has been cleaned and pack n’ play set in its new home.  I even covered a shoebox with baby-ish wrapping paper to hold the upstairs diaper stash.  I r crafty like that.

Some contractions yesterday and today, but not the uber-painful ones like I’ve had in the past.  I’m very greatful for that much, at least.  Maybe they’ll actually lead to something one of these days.  I’m ready to get this show on the road.  I miss being the only inhabitant of my body.

Also, if I have the baby, say, tonight, I get out of doing dishes.  Our microwave, having the great timing that only appliances can have, decided to die a few days ago.  Unfortunately, having to heat everthing on the stove means doing dishes a lot more often.  The end result of this is that I ate nothing but apple pie and a box of mac & cheese yesterday because I was too lazy to wash any other pans and make real food.  At least I make a pretty awesome pie.  I cannot express just how much I hate dishes.  Still, who would expect a woman who’s just given birth to come home and wash them?  Hurry up, kiddo!

Speaking of food, Eadric, Sam, and Aaron came up the weekend before last and helped me stock up my freezer.  They’re even more awesome than pie.  My mom made us two lasagnas and a batch of beef cubes and gravy to heat up over rice, so the freezer’s looking pretty good at the moment.  I went aheadand cheated and bought chicken strips and breaded fish fillets, since I figured I probably wouldn’t get around to making them myself.  Today, assuming I don’t end up at the hopsickle, I’m making chicken & dumplings for dinner and putting together several cottage pies to freeze.  With what I have in the freezer plus a small stockpile of pastas and pizza supplies, we should be okay for a bit post-baby.  And while I’m sure the environment hates me for it, I also bought a pack of paper plates and brought home my box of plastic utensils from work to cut down on dishes in the first week or so.  (See:  hating dishes, above.)

The band stuff is finally out of the Mazda, and the car seat has been installed.  While I’m sure it’s a bit more irksome to install one using a seatbelt rather than LATCH, I don’t understand how 80-90% of car seats can be installed improperly.  It seemed pretty simple to me.  This, of course, worries me even more, since my brain is currently mush and likely to make very complicated matters seem easily and vice versa.  Mr. Rocket Scientist himself didn’t have an issue, though.  Maybe I’ll have to get my brother-in-law, a cop and father of two, to check it out.  He’s all officially trained and whatnot.  Or maybe I’m just paranoid.

I feel like I have to be missing something.  There has to be something left to do before the big day other than scrubbing pots and toilets.  Something baby-related that I’ve forgotten even after my countless lists and books.  If not, will someone please extract this child from my abdomen ASAP?

September 22nd, 2009 by Ascelyn

Well, here I am.  38 weeks.  Full term.  Any day now, right?  (Ha!  I’m late for everything else; why should this be any exception?)

According to the doc, I’m doing well for a first-timer.  My appointments are generally on the Fridays before the official start of each week of pregnancy–in other words, my 38 week appointment was held on the Friday of what was technically Week 37, since 38 didn’t start until Monday.  Regardless, at 37 weeks I was 1 cm, 50%, and -3 station, and last Friday I was 2 cm.  I guess doubling is good, but for all the misery of last week, I thought maybe I’d be doing a little better than that.

Thursday I had another bout of miserable contractions that lasted all day.  I came in late, just in time for my 10:00 meeting, and gave in and left around 2:00 in the afternoon.  I figured I’d come in Friday, which was technically my day off, to make up time and finish some revisions to a procedure.  Friday morning, I dutifully came in at 9:30…and left at 10:30.  I feel kind of guilty “wasting” PTO, even if it was only a few hours, but I couldn’t take the contractions on top of the noises and smells, the bright lights and irritating managers who insist on stopping by to chat about my pregnancy.  Note to managers:  I don’t care.  I don’t like you.  Your wife finished having kids long, long before I was born, and you weren’t allowed in the delivery room.  You have no first-hand experience in birth, and therefore no reason to try to advise me.  Leave me alone.  My uterus is none of your business.  Go away before I throw something at you.

The two times I’ve stopped what I was doing and gone home to rest, the contractions have tapered off to a reasonable level and allowed me to sleep within an hour or so.  Otherwise, they’ll start in the morning and continue all day.  30 seconds to a minute long, two to five minutes apart.  I’d be excited and wonder if it was all going to be over soon if I hadn’t been doing for months now.

I don’t want an epidural.  There are other things I’d like to avoid even more–pitocin and c-sections and episiotomies–but I really, really don’t.  That said, I found myself wishing on Friday as I drove myself home that I might not mind some form of pain relief right at that second.  Have I mentioned that these “fake” contractions are really freaking painful?  I can’t walk through them, have to focus on my breathing and try not to make any noise, and as a general rule I handle pain very, very well.  I’ve had a lot of it, all things considered, and while I know it’s nothing compared to what’s coming, I hope it gives me the background and mental fortitude I’ll need compared to someone who thinks a papercut is the end of the world.  My frustration, and the thing that makes this false labor or whatever it is so unbearable at times, is that it’s all for nothing.  I think I’ll be able to handle contractions much better when I know they’re useful and there to accomplish a goal.  I’m a very goal-oriented person, and without them, I feel like I’m wandering aimlessly and can’t focus on taking things one step at a time.  As long as I can break things down into more manageable increments–just another mile, another page, another centimeter, another hour–I can deal.

Right?

My mom keeps trying to get me to promise her that I’ll call when I go into labor.  She wants to be able to come to the house and “help me walk” during early labor.  I can’t seem to convince her that I can walk just fine with the help of my husband, who put this kid in my body and can bloody well do everything possible to help it get out.  I don’t need–don’t want–my mother there to make me paranoid and distract me in all the wrong ways.  I love my mother.  Really, I do.  We’ve never understood each other, though, something I come to realize more and more with each passing year.  It’s amazing how much you can hide from your own parents when they don’t understand you and have no desire to try.  And so, among so much else, she doesn’t understand just how utterly freaked out I get around all but a handful of people.  Even around my closest friends–something I didn’t feel I had for ages because of my inability to trust that people really were who they seemed–I watch and listen and analyze and try so hard to be careful up until the point where I slip and say something I regret.  That they put up with me anyway is a gift I treasure more than almost anything else and that amazes me every time I see them.  I never thought I’d have such friends, certainly never in a million years would have guessed I’d marry someday.  The idea of sitting in a common area with others, much less sharing a tent or room, pretty much precluded ever being married.  Who could trust someone so much?  Who would be worthy of such trust?  Apparently, Jason.  Poor guy.

So I don’t want anyone else around.  I love my mother, but deep down, I know I can’t trust her enough to relax fully with her there.  Can’t trust anyone but J.  Sometimes I worry about him, even, and what he thinks of me.  This is one more reason why I hate knowing that half the people working at the hospital know me, even if I don’t know them.  They’re not just strangers I’ll see once in passing, who will forget me the next day.  What will they think?  Who will they tell?  (HIPAA–bah.  If you know medical workers, you know that’s a sad little joke of a pledge.)

I worry, too, about having her in the hospital.  I know it would mean a lot to her to be there.  At least, I think I know that.  She makes it seem like she wants to be involved with all sorts of stuff, but then always backs out or doesn’t want to in the end.  Says she never gets to see me, but apparently “seeing” me can’t consist of anything more than both of us being in the same room as she watches TV.  I want to do something–want to cook, want to shop, want to go get dinner, want to make something together.  Small doses of sitting in front of a screen are fine, so long as stupid remarks can be freely exchanged.  Comments while she’s watching TV just seem to be taken as distracting rather than half the fun.  TV-watching is not an interactive experience.  I want to interact.

So at least she acts as though she wants to be there, but she’s said that about other things in the months leading up to all this.  I don’t want to offend her by not calling her in.  I once thought she’d be a great help, having been a nurse for so long and aided in deliveries and the care of both moms and children.  I thought she could explain what was going on when the hospital workers didn’t have time or didn’t care, and that she could act as a go-between, making sure they took me seriously when so often they don’t seem to bother.  She was awesome when we lost the twins, making sure I had what I needed (after I’d waited for a nurse to bring me a cup of water to rinse out my mouth for four hours) and that I was kept informed.

But her ideas of birth are so different from my hopes that I don’t know if she’d help or hinder.  She makes a point of mentioning nearly every time I see her that I’ll “give in” and get an epidural after all.  She seems to think that it would be a crushing experience for me, while I’m actually okay with it if I end up really needing one.  She doesn’t understand that I’m just trying to keep my options open instead of demanding one the moment I walk in the door–her preference.  She doesn’t get that I’ve actually thought this out and have a multi-level plan of action (end result:  just get this baby out of me).  I need people with me who will support me and help me focus on breaking things down into manageable goals and remind me that I can do whatever needs to be done.  There are one or two people I’ve seriously considered asking to be there to help coach me, but I can’t, because she’d be highly offended (and perhaps rightfully so) if I asked them to be there and not her.  It also worries me that I’m counting on her to give me accurate information if the other nurses and the doctor don’t, and the majority of what she’s told me so far has proven to be false.  I will be allowed to drink and even eat lightly during labor if I want…as long as I’m not on medication via an IV or epidural.  They do allow patients to use the hot tub…as long as they’re not on medication via an IV or epidural.  They do allow patients to get up and move around after being admitted…as long as…well, you get the picture.

I wish I had someone to remind me of all my options and help me find out what even more are, even the medicated options, and to help me decide what’s best for both me and the baby.

I wish I had someone to tell me what to do regarding people:  my mom, J’s family, the nurse who so grossly violated every privacy law on the books when I was in that same hospital last October.

I wish this would get over with so I could be home with our (healthy, perfect) baby and not wondering and worrying about the future from a really uncomfortable desk chair.  Running to the bathroom every two minutes, where the guys seem to think they can make a mess of the ladies’ room and leave it for me to clean up, while some smallish creature batters my cervix.  (You know, hits it.  Not battering like one does to fried fish.)

Mmm, fish.

September 14th, 2009 by Ascelyn

Less than three weeks left until the official due date.  How crazy is that?  (Alternatively, how crazy am I going?  Take a guess!)

Having been on a 9/80 schedule at work for the last year or so, I’m really not liking two-day weekends.  In brief, 9/80 means we (at least in theory) work 80 hours over 9 days instead of 10.  Basically, M-Th we work 9 hour days, and Fridays alternate between being 8 hours and being off entirely.  Three-day weekends tend to be a lot more productive, and it’s great to have a day to slack off or sleep in and still have the actual weekend to get work done.

Anyway, this was a “work” Friday, so a two-day weekend.  Still, I got to sneak a few cat naps and still get a lot done.  Maybe not all that I’d planned, but a fair bit.  The baby’s room is essentially done–curtains have been hung, closet has been emptied and refilled with baby gear, floor has been cleared of random curtain rod parts and the baby gear now stowed in the closet.  The toy hammock has been hung and my fifteen zillion teddy bears placed lovingly therein.  The trash can we picked up the other day for a diaper pail was about 1/2″ too long to fit where I wanted it, so we returned it for a different size.  As J likes to remind me, the size he wanted to get to begin with.  Of course.  Regardless, it fits perfectly, and all that really needs to be done to the room now is to vacuum it.

Oh, and I did laundry!  Go me!  J won, though, having done dishes twice, moved an old bookshelf out into the kitchen to hold our cookbooks and jam jars, and reorganized the cabinet holding the drinking vessels and the one holding the miscellaneous kitchen-y stuff so that the former holds glasses and water bottles and the latter, baby bottles and mugs.  He then moved on to the linen closet, which I’d been meaning to do anyway.  Tonight, if we’re not too tired, we’ll work on cleaning out our bedroom and possibly reorganizing some small bits of furniture to make room for the Pack ‘n Play/bassinet/changer where the baby will sleep for the first little bit.  Someday, I need to straighten up the loft, which has random Pennsic stuff strewn about still, and carry the futon downstairs and out to the Bronco to take over the Val’s house until they save up to get a real couch.  Also someday, the music room/office, which is where all the random stuff from the baby’s room got thrown until we can figure out a permenant home for all of it.

It’s going to be a long week.  Hopefully productive, but certainly long.

My parents and baby brother (ha! he’s 20! so wrong!) are coming over this weekend for turkey.  I’d planned on making the turkey in part so that I’d have leftovers to cook into other meals and freeze, and in part because I wanted an excuse to eat mashed potatoes and gravy.  Mmm, potatoes.  So hungry….  Of course, given the amount of food my family can consume in a single sitting, there might not be much turkey left over.  I’m planning for pot pie and turkey noodle soup, at the very least.  We’ll see how it goes.

Speaking of someday, someday while I’m off work but before the baby comes I need to sew a sling or two and a curtain to serve as a door for the baby’s closet.

I think the next few weeks are going to be insane.  I just hope insanity comes with naps and lots of snacks.

September 11th, 2009 by Ascelyn

It’s amazing what two nights of almost-sleep will do for a person.  Sure, I wake and have to flop out of bed every two or three hours still, but not staring at the ceiling (which I can’t see without my glasses anyway) during those two hours in between helps a lot.

I have a note from the good doctor saying that I’m to be excused from work as of September 25th.  For those of you playing along at home, that would be the Friday after next.  I’ve just returned from discussing it with my boss (who rocks, by the way) and signing the forms over at medical that will put me on short-term disability after the initial 5-day waiting period.  Things seem to be shaping up nicely.

Finally bought a diaper pail last night, so I think we’re about good to go in the “stuff” category.

Off to my 37 week appointment.  Go me!

September 9th, 2009 by Ascelyn

Remember how lovely the beginning of Month #8 was?  The intro to Month #9 is a lot like that.  Just replace the awesome with an equal amount of sucks-my-will-to-live.

I hurt.  It’s like all the joint pain I’ve experienced in life, no insignificant amount, has come back to torture me all at once.  There are days I literally can’t get out of bed in the morning.  I do anyway–I don’t have much of a choice–but it involves lots of hopping around and falling over.  That same pain combined with the constant kicking of my own personal paraiste keeps me from sleeping at night.  Which gives me migraines.  For which I can’t take my medication.

At 8 months, I giggled at the idea that I’d want this to end.  Sure, pregnancy isn’t fun exactly, but it’s tolerable when compared to the idea of never sleeping again.  Now I look forward to the baby being born so that I have the chance to sleep.  Those chances might come in 15 minute time spots spread far apart, but during them, I’ll be able to sleep, dang it.  Something I can’t do now.

I have a note from Dr. W excusing me from work after Sept. 25th.  If things don’t change over the next few days, that will be bumped up a week to the 18th.  Being home all day might be boring, but my body can’t take this lack of sleep and constant standing or sitting in uncomfortable chairs.

Just four more weeks, right?

September 1st, 2009 by Ascelyn

I’ve discovered something over the last 4 years.  Apparently, while I’m perfectly capable of taking care of a dorm room, I’m not so good at keeping an entire house clean and orderly.  I clean when things are dirty.  Usually.  And the only part of the house that stays even mostly tidy is the living room, and that’s because it’s mostly a matter of rearranging the pillows on the couch.  Since our living room and kitchen are essentially the same big space, though, the disaster area that is the kitchen tends to outweigh the modicum of order (note that I did not say cleanliness, which would imply that I had dusted sometime in recent memory) in the living room.

It also helps that the TV is now downstairs, so there aren’t DVDs and blankets strewn about the room any longer.  That mess is much easier to hide when it’s not five feet from the main entrance to the house.

Once every few months, however, it strikes me that I would be much happier if our main living areas  were neat and tidy.  The problem is generally finding time to make them so.   By the time I get home from work, I want to eat something that requires little to no work and go to bed.  If I were more like J and didn’t require food on a regular basis, I’d probably just go straight to sleep.  Cleaning does not enter the equation.  On the occasional weekend when we’re not busy, I really just want to lay around and relax.  I would rather watch a movie than clean at those times, which is saying a lot, considering that I don’t particularly like staring at a screen for long.

Suffice it to say that “nesting” in the traditional sense has not really entered my mind.  I also laugh when people tell me that I should try to nap when the baby naps, but that I probably won’t do so because I’ll be wanting to do dishes or clean the house.  No, I won’t.  I like sleep.  The house can be messy.  I’ll eat off paper plates for a day if necessary.  I really don’t see myself suddenly going into super-maid mode just because a baby’s around.

On the other hand, when I woke up this morning and dug through the clothes basket full of clean whites to find a pair of socks (and please note that I do have all good intentions of putting them away in their drawers at some point), I realized that I did want to have a clean bedroom.  After all, that’s where the baby will be sleeping for at least the first few weeks.  Our room is in the loft, with its sloping roof and lack of normal wall space.  There is significantly limited space for the Pack ‘n Play/bassinet/changer combo that I intend to set up there.  Right now, there is no space, because the floor is covered with laundry and mostly-unpacked duffel bags from various trips.

Hmm.  I should fix that.  But when?

I’m also somewhat appalled that the baby’s own room isn’t finished yet.  For one thing, Somebody needs to finish installing the second curtain rod so that the curtains are no longer laying in the middle of the floor on their old rod.  A year ago, I would’ve happily jumped up and done it myself, but lately jumping up on anything tends to lead to me falling off shortly thereafter, and that doesn’t seem like a good idea right now.  Somebody also needs to put up the toy hammock in the corner so that I can get the massive pile of stuffed animals (previously belonging to yours truly) out of the crib, where they were moved when there was no longer space available on the twin bed.  Then, I can put the newly-washed sheets back in the crib so that they’re not sitting on the changing pad.  I also need to talk my father into making me a quilt hanger so that I can use the super-cute comforter that came with the bedding set as a decoration until the baby’s old enough to convert the crib to a toddler bed and use it as a blanket.

These are just the simple things.

The closet in that room has long housed my garb and our random clothing.  My camo, both of our graduation gowns, my formal dresses and boxed-up wedding gown.  Somewhere in there are my old roller blades, size 9 mens, which I’ve since realized never actually fit properly despite having Really Cool Colors!  (Duh…)  All of these and more need to be moved somewhere, and heaven help us actually find available storage space in our attic-less, garage-less house.  Then, we need to get rid of the mirrored-glass sliding closet doors, which are hideous at best and potentially dangerous at worst, and replace them with a curtain rod and fabric.  That means sewing.  I ran out of any trace of enthusiasm for sewing sometime before Pennsic.  Sadly, I also need to sew (or coerce someone into sewing) a sling for me, since I found a really cool pocket/ring sling hybrid pattern that is confusing my poor pregnant brain.  And for the closet, I’ve recently decided that I also want to install shelves on both sides, or maybe just along the bottom.  You know, for sheets and all that miscellaneous stuff that seems to accrue.  It’s not like I can fill an entire closet with tiny baby clothes anyway.

Must.  Be.  Done.

And I still don’t have a clothes basket or diaper pail!  Or nursing bras!  Or sanity!  And only 3 weeks until I’m considered full term!

!!!

I think I’m going shopping after work today.  And throwing all the crap from the closet into the music room, which is trashed anyway from all the other stuff we moved out of the nursery.  And folding clothes.  And maybe losing my mind.

August 25th, 2009 by Ascelyn

Today has been a bad day.  Yesterday was worse, partially because it’s what started it all.  Pregnancy is starting to suck.  I can’t bend or move properly because the kid’s in the way of everything, so I’m stuck twisting funny and straining my back to get my work done.  Also, hormones combined with having crappy joints to begin with has made my hips, among other things, start to act up in ways that they haven’t since they were bad enough back in ‘04 to make me leave NROTC.  Hips and back combined means I have a lot of trouble sleeping.  I’ll be plenty tired, but instead of sleeping, I just lay in bed and hurt.

So today there’s the pain, as there was yesterday, plus the tiredness and headache.  And oh, yeah, the stupid contractions.  They’re back for round number three.  I don’t like them.  They’re harmless enough, sure, but they range between distracting and really rather painful.  But still, I have work to do, so there’s not much I can do about that.  I’m hoping I can go home for lunch and lay down for a while.  We’ll see.

On a less whiny note, the weekend was great, and much was accomplished.  I ordered them majority of the remaining baby items that we’re going to need at the beginning, bought enough 0-3 month clothes and one or two newborn outfits to know that at least the kid won’t die of exposure, bought a rug and curtains, plus curtain rods to hold them, and new sheets and a comforter for the twin bed that’s staying in the nursery.  All of it was at decent prices and pretty truly necessary–yes, even the sheets and curtains.  Only one of the two windows in that room had curtains, and they were old and stained and ugly.  The sheets had a mallard duck pattern on them that ought to be reserved for use in sleeping bags only, and the comforter was falling apart and looked like it was straight off the set of Saved by the Bell.  Online purchases were of things like a stroller, bottles, and a changing pad.  The clothes are basic onesies and sleepers, though I did get two or three pair of pants for outings.  J teases me about how much money we’ve spent on the kid so far, but the only thing I’ve really splurged on is the hand-knit Jayne hat sized to fit the baby through his first winter.  The all-knowing internets say babies need hats anyway, but this was a little cuter (and a little more expensive) than the cheap fabric ones at Walmart.  Baby walks down the street in this hat, people know he’s not afraid of anything.

Look at me go.  I’ve just blown 20 minutes in which I didn’t focus on hurting.  Yay me!

In other baby-prep news, I’m slowly starting to stock up the freezer.  Finally.  I have two meatloafs (meatloaves?), one fully cooked and one raw, a few packages of cooked ground beef to throw into spaghetti sauce and stuff, and a loaf of pumpkin bread.  Actually, now that I type that out, it doesn’t sound like much.  I have big plans–really, I do.  It’s just a matter of spending the time and energy necessary to accomplish them.  For example, pork roasts (is that what they’re called? hunks of pig meat that aren’t hams, I mean!) were buy one/get one at the market last week, so I intended to pick two up, let them sit in the crock pot all day, then shred them and mix with barbecue sauce to make quick pulled pork.  I figured it was bound to freeze well, since my parents bought those little plastic containers of frozen pulled pork when I was growing up.  Except, well, I still haven’t made it to the market.  Every time I say we need to go while we’re in town, the driver (guess who?) “forgets.”  That’s also why I’ve been obsessed with getting corn on the cob for the last couple of weeks and am still corn-less.  Anyway, here’s my fancy list of foods I plan to make and freeze.  Maybe having it out there for all to see will shame me into actually cooking.

• Lasagna
• Meatballs
• Soups of various sorts (vegetable beef, potato, chili, Italian wedding soup, Irish stew)
• Precooked ground beef
• Beef burritos
• Chicken pot pie
• Apple pie, cookies, and other desserts
• Shepherd’s pie
• Mac & cheese
• Pastichio
• Meatloaf
• Pulled pork/chicken
• Cooked chicken breast strips (for fettuccine alfredo, etc.)
• Breaded chicken tenders
• Homemade bread
• Pizza
• Waffles (plain, blueberry, chocolate chip)
• Muffins (blueberry, chocolate chip, cinnamon streusel, apple)
• French toast
• Tuna casserole
• Quick bread/”friendship” bread
• Anything that can conceivably be thrown in the oven, crock pot, or microwave without much prep or brain power

I think I have a long way to go.  I tried to talk my mom into helping, but she can’t for the life of her figure out why I don’t just want to stock up on convenience food from the freezer aisle at the store.  Because, um, homemade tastes better.  And it’s generally healthier.  But my differences in opinion on food compared to my parents’ is another topic for another post.

This is making me hungry.  Time to go see about lunch.  Maybe I won’t just attempt to sleep through it after all.  Today’s farmer’s market day at the mall–maybe I can even buy corn!

August 12th, 2009 by Ascelyn

I’ve been told I’m crazy.  This is nothing new.  I really don’t think I am this time, though.  Of course, that’s also nothing new.

After the first few weeks of the poop-stravaganza that is having a newborn, when I’ll have J at home with me and at least the potential of outside forms of help, I want to try cloth diapers.  This is not because I am filled with boundless energy, or am a Crazy Liberal Treehugger ™, or even (I think) because I’m crazy.  It’s actually because I’m cheap and lazy.

Let me make a comparison.  I hope and plan to breastfeed.  There are a hundred and forty-two different reasons for this, some of which are that it’s better for the baby, better for me, saves tons of money on formula, saves tons of time driving back and forth to the store buying formula and then mixing it up, and so on and so forth.  Also, biologically, the whole thing is very cool.  Also, the smell of formula makes me gag, and I don’t like gagging.  So while I can totally see how it would be a pain for some people, it makes sense for me to try.  Very few people will disagree with this.  Those who will have, so far, just seemed angry that my choice may somehow invalidate their choice to formula feed from birth on.  They can do what they want, and I’ll do what I want, and can’t we all just get along?

Diapers are much the same.  One must drive to the store, all of which are somewhat significantly out of the way for us, and then pay lots and lots of money for pieces of plastic and chemicals.  And while I’m no hippy treehugger, some of the things that are coming out about those chemicals and their long-term effects, particularly on boys, are disturbing.  But back to the cheap/lazy aspect.  Once acquiring the disposable diapers (over and over and over again) and having the child fill them with really nasty substances, one must find a way to dispose of them.  Hence the “disposable” in the name.  This is what makes most people like them, but what makes me really not want to deal with the issue.  Sure, the average person can remove the diaper from the child, throw it in a plastic bag, and put it out on the curb every other day or so to be whisked away by overall-clad men in large green trucks.  We out here in the sticks have neither curbs nor trash pickup, though.  Our refuse must be carted to the “local” landfill, about 30-45 minutes away if you don’t get stuck behind some old man out for a pleasure cruise.  The landfill charges a minimum of about $12 per visit, then additional fees based on weight.  Since the idea of used diapers accumulating under my back porch until a reasonable weight is reached to make a dump run is really disgusting–especially when we have all manner of local wildlife that love to tear into our trash even when it’s only left outside on the deck for twenty minutes–well, eww.  At the same time, we can’t be driving over an hour every couple of days and paying ridiculous amounts of money to get rid of the things.  My parents have kindly offered to let us drop off the occasional bag at their house, but it’s still out of our way and would involve driving around with poopy diapers in the car.  While it wouldn’t be anticipated, I know us well enough to realize that at times it would also involve those diapers sitting in the car in the sun all day while we were at work, because both J and I are very much NOT morning people and tend to just barely make it to work on time as it is.  I know we’d push things to the last minute and not have time to drop off diapers on many occasions.  Again, eww.

On the other hand, if you run out of cloth diapers, you run an emergency load of laundry.  Inconvenient in the middle of the night, yes, but at least it can be done in pajamas without leaving the house, and it probably would take less time than driving all the way to the store and back.  And every other day, instead of driving to the dump, the dirty diapers are tossed in the wash.  Would it end up using more hot water and detergent than only washing clothes?  Sure.  But it also means I won’t be paying the landfill crazy amounts of cash, and again, a load of laundry takes less time than driving to the dump.  It can also be done while I’m doing other things, while driving is pretty much driving and cannot be multitasked.

See?  Cheap.  And lazy.  I’ve been told by the majority of the people who know I intend to try this that I’m nuts and will give up once I know how little time I have after the baby’s born, but the time is just the thing.  I won’t have any, so I can’t handle all that extra driving.  At least I can spend time with the baby while the washer is running.

I’ve been looking into cloth for a while, but now that the time for decision-making is drawing nigh, I’m really starting to read reviews of different brands and systems.  There seem to be three major possibilities:  prefolds, contours, or fitteds with covers; pocket diapers; and all-in-ones (or -twos).  From what I can tell, both cost and ease of use increase in that order.  AIOs have the absorbent and waterproof layers sewn together, so they function essentially as disposables that can be washed between uses.  Pockets have a waterproof outer layer and a wicking inner layer sewn together with a pocket between the two to hold an absorbent insert or folded prefold.  You have to take the insert out before washing, then restuff them before using, but if you stuff all the clean diapers at once when they’re finished drying, they function like disposables.  Prefolds are absorbent and need to be folded and held on the baby using either pins or a Snappi before putting on a waterproof cover, or potentially just folded and laid in the cover before putting the cover on the baby.  Contours are essentially prefolds that have been cut down to the shape necessary to fit on a baby without needing to be folded; they’re a little more expensive.  Fitteds have elastic around the legs and often have velcro or snaps at the waist, negating the need for pins or Snappis.  You still need to use a cover, though.  They’re fairly pricey compared to prefolds, but not as much so as pockets or AIOs.

What we use will depend on our circumstances by the time the baby’s born.  Assuming I go back to work full time, the daycare provider will have a massive say in what we use, or even if we can use cloth at all.  The lady we’re really hoping to get for countless reasons uses Montessori methods, so I’m hoping she’s a bit more open to things like cloth and breastfeeding than some of the places that are more…what?  Old-school?  Super-conservative?  Regimental?  I don’t know what to call them.  But if she’ll only use disposables, then that’s just how it goes.  If she’ll use cloth but wants the convenience of AIOs or prestuffed pockets, which is understandable when you’re watching multiple children at once, then we’ll need at least enough of those to send with her.  If I stay home, on the other hand, and try to do things the cheapest way possible, it will likely be prefolds or contours with covers.

For a while, I was really excited about bumGenius 3.0 diapers.  They’re pockets, but they’re one size fits all.  With most systems you have to buy different sizes three or four times.  Sure, they’re more expensive then a prefold and a cover, but you don’t have to keep buying them multiple times throughout your child’s diaper-clad life.  Also, people who have used them seem to love them.  Lately, though, I’ve become more hesitant.  One of my original thoughts was that you could buy enough bumGenius diapers right at the start, use them all through the first kid, and then have them for any subsequent children provided the first is potty-trained by the time they’re born.  I’ve been reading a large number of reviews, though, that say that while they’re great for the first few months, the Velcro starts to give out and the elastic lose its stretch after a while.  Apparently the diapers aren’t lasting through a single child’s use for many people, much less multiple children.  Maybe it would be more cost-efficient to buy sized covers and prefolds/contours after all.  I’ll have to crunch some numbers later, at some point when my brain is working again.  This is all ignoring the possibility of gDiapers, as well, which combine a washable cover with flushable absorbent liners.  At this point, I’m not sure why that would be any easier than cloth, though, especially using flushable liners once the baby’s no longer taking in breastmilk alone.  It might end up just costing more and requiring ordering of liners all the time without being any more convenient.

Before I do anything, I’m getting a sampler pack so I can test out some of the different styles.  Thanks Mama has a nice one that includes a Bumkins AIO, a bumGenius one-size pocket, an Indian prefold, a Kissaluvs contour, a Kissaluvs fitted diaper, a Bummis super whisper wrap, a pair of Bummis whisper pants, and a Snappi.  While I’m sure there are differences between brands, I think it should give us a good feel for what system or systems in general will work best for us.  Since I’ve found a local lady who is about to start making and selling cloth diapers of her own design (apparently prefolds/covers and pockets), that’s another option I’d really like to pursue.

One small peeve.  A lot of the pockets and AIOs boast that they’re so easy “even dad can do it.”  I’m starting to get irritated with how crappy a reputation dads are given.  My husband is a great guy, absurdly intelligent, and very hardworking.  He’ll figure out which system works best for him, optimize it, and probably only complain that it could have been engineered better by doing this, this, and this.  Some dads suck, yes, but so do some moms.  If a dad can’t figure out prefolds and covers but a mom can, it’s because the former is lazy, not stupid.  Give J a little credit.  Sheesh.

I need food.  This, as you can probably tell, makes me irritable.  Time to find the man and get some sort of sustenance.

August 12th, 2009 by Ascelyn

This week seems to be one for ramping up for impending motherhood on all accounts.  I’ve been sick and exhausted, which in turn makes me irritable and ready to scream or cry in turn.  This afternoon has hosted the first of the Braxton Hicks contractions I’d been warned about.  They seem to be another one of those things that you can’t fathom ahead of time but just recognize when they happen to you, sort of like the baby moving.  Yesterday, on the other hand, I was thoroughly miserable and having what the doctor said may or may not have been contractions leading up to my appointment.  He told me to take the rest of the day off, lay around the house, and drink water, but I went ahead and worked through the afternoon after I started to feel better.  Yeah, I suck.  Can’t really afford to lose the PTO, though, when I’ve got it all planned out so nicely.  Maybe painful possible contractions just lead up to painless BH ones like those in turn lead up to more painful labor ones?  Either way, things are fine now, though I definitely liked being seven months a heck of a lot better than I like being eight months so far.

On the bright side, our car seat and my pump arrived yesterday.  Diapers.com rocks.  They have great prices, ship quickly and for free, and their customer service is possibly the best I’ve ever experienced–on par with if not better than Newegg, my previous heroes.  I wish I would’ve gotten more from them while I could use the 10% new customer discount, but I was being particularly stupid Saturday when I placed the order and got the Pack & Play from Amazon instead (with bassinet and changer, to keep in our room for the first little bit so I don’t have to climb stairs at night).  Also, even though no one else seems to have the Chicco travel system with the 30 lb. max car seat, only the 22, Diapers.com apparently does.  I could’ve saved close to $15 by getting them together instead of getting the car seat now and holding off to get the stroller later.  Oh well.  I’m thinking of cheating and opening an account under Jason’s name to get the rest of the gear in a few weeks so that I can get the 10% off again, plus the $10 referral discount for using my special code.

I feel much better having a car seat, somewhere for the baby to sleep near where I will be, and a smattering of newborn clothes, even if they’re mostly basic shirts and onesies.  At least if the baby were to come a bit early, he’d have somewhere to sleep, something to wear, something to eat, and a way to get home to all of it.  Not having those essentials had me in a bit of a panic in the weeks before Pennsic.  I like to plan and be prepared, and while I know that’s not fully possible when it comes to having a child, I don’t want to go into it completely unprepared either.

I will now proceed to be a whiny brat, but I figure that’s okay since it’s my own blog and I only know of a whopping three people who read it anyway.  You see, a lot of people have made a lot of promises since I got pregnant, which has been extraordinarily nice of them and which I feel bad for accepting.  I’m used to being on the giving end, not the receiving, and I feel guilty when people do things for me.  Now that the time’s drawing nearer that I could really use the offered help in all forms, though, people kind of disappear.  One person promised that I could borrow their maternity clothes when I first got pregnant, then lent them to a friend a week later and didn’t bother to tell me, which is totally her right but left me in kind of an awkward position.  A few have offered hand-me-down baby gear now that their own babies are outgrowing it, but I don’t know if that’s going to materialize or if I should go ahead and buy things myself.  I don’t want to wait too long and then have to run to the store right before or after the baby’s born.  Several, more than I ever would have guessed, told me they were planning to throw me baby showers, which while overwhelmingly generous was also a bit nerve-wracking.  I don’t deal well with being the center of attention, and typical showers, be they baby or bridal, tend to be a bit of an estrogen overload.  These people’s ideas of “fun” and mine tend to clash badly.  But they were insistent, and I held off buying things a little at a time like I would have to spread out the expenditures because I figured I should wait until after the shower(s).  Then they didn’t happen, so I started buying things for myself, since after all it’s less than six weeks before I’m considered full term.  Now a couple of people have decided again that they want to have showers after all, which is once again very kind, but we start Qual #1 at work in a few days and are severely shorthanded.  If they bump the qual runs up to 50 meters, the runs will take well over 24 hours if they go perfectly smooth, which they rarely do and almost definitely won’t since we’ve never done a run longer than maybe 12 m.  I’m not going to have any weekends or evenings to spare.  I’ll be sitting at work.  When I do have time, I want to sleep, and also need to buy glasses, get a haircut, go to the dentist….  So thanks, and you rock, but seriously, you’re making my life more stressful.  I feel like an ungrateful, whiny brat saying it, but I wish people hadn’t waited so long or would understand that when I say work is taking over my life and I have no time, I really, really mean that.  This is why Pennsic was so awesome and totally needed.  Practically stress-free, with healthy food and time to sleep like a reasonable (pregnant) person.  The stress builds and builds, and my mind and body start to break down because of it.  I’m going to feel incredibly guilty doing it, like I’m abandoning Jen #2 and the rest of the team when they really can’t afford to lose another person, but if it keeps going like this I’m going to ask Dr. W. to write me a note telling me to leave work a week or two before I’m due.  I need time to recover mentally and physically before trying to have a baby, and I really don’t need to be continuing with the heavy lifting at 9 1/2 months that the interns did all summer and now aren’t around to do.

But whining about work is another topic altogether, and one I’ll return to later as I’ve been meaning to do for weeks.  Also, diapers.  Those go in another post so I can find it easily.  Right now I’m going to sneak to the one unalarmed door in our little building and watch the rain beat down on the parking lot.