Out of Avalon

November 26th, 2009 by Ascelyn

I’ve been using the cloth diapers at least part time for three days now.  I haven’t used them at night, but I’ve been out and about two of those days and not had a problem.  It was prefolds and covers alone the first day, and I’m getting better at getting a squirmy baby into a prefold and snappi.  At times like this afternoon, though, when he soiled not only the diaper itself but the cover as well, things get interesting.  It wouldn’t have been an issue at home on my changing table, but while trying to change him on a too-small diaper bag changing pad on my in-laws’ couch, I had a problem.  He was wiggling too much for me to trust him without a hand on him, I had nowhere to lay the dirty diapers while trying to get the clean one on him, and in the end I just stuck him in the Happy Heiny.

I’ve used it twice now. It goes on easy and holds in his messes.  That’s good enough for me.

He’s in his bumGenius 3.0 now.  Same for it–used it twice, goes on easy, works well enough.

The Rump-a-rooz are the bulkiest so far, and while they’re cute and I’ve used them twice as well, they just don’t seem to fit quite as well.  That might change as he gets older.  Still no leakage, though.

Finally, I used the Fuzzi Bunz OS for the first time just now.  Having a million (okay, three) elastics to adjust and separate waist and hip snaps might make for a perfect fit, but they’re also very irritating.  I don’t know if it’s worth it, though at least adjusting the elastics is only an occasional thing.

I haven’t used the Green Mountain diaper yet, but fiddling with those stupid snaps on the elastics is a pain.  At least there’s only one set of external snaps to deal with.

I think I like hook and loop fasteners much better, but I’m afraid they’ll wear out more quickly over time. I’m starting to wonder if a one size diaper is a good idea, too, since it will probably wear out over the course of one baby and might not work until he potty trains.  Then again, the cost is the same to buy four sizes or to buy OS diapers for four children.  But what if I have kids with different builds who would be best in different brands?

Washed diapers for the first time last night.  Cold soak and rinse, hot wash with double rinse.  Charlie’s Soap.  Easy enough.

Time to go home now.  I totally need a bigger bag to store dirty diapers while I’m out.  Also, cloth diapers take up way more space in my diaper bag than disposables did.  I think I need to reorganize.

November 23rd, 2009 by Ascelyn

Our little Mini-moose will be six weeks old tomorrow.  Supposedly, I’m now healed up enough to return to work and he’s plenty old to be cared for by a complete stranger for the majority of the day.

Riiiight.

Dr. W wrote me a note giving me two more weeks off work since I’m not fully healed yet and can’t physically do my job, so I’m off until at least Dec. 7th.  I’m supposed to call the daycare centers we checked out today and let them know whether or not he’s coming and if so, when.  J is taking the weeks of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years off to try to burn up some of his PTO before it disappears, leaving a two-week gap between my return and his being off until the beginning of January.  My mother can cover the second week of that gap, so if we could find someone to watch the baby for the first week, it would save us from having to pay for daycare for the weeks of Christmas and New Years even if he doesn’t go.

The question now is whether or not he’ll be going at all.

In a perfect world, I would get to stay home with him.  In a perfect world, I’d have the alternate choice of getting to work part time and be home the rest, keeping my foot in the door while spending plenty of time with our son.  Unfortunately, this is not a perfect world, and I’m not sure what to do.

I have a completely useless degree in biology, useless because there are no jobs in my field in this area.  I’m working as an engineering tech because at least it’s a science/technical job for which I’m qualified, though I’ll never be able to work as a full engineer because of having the wrong degree.  These are the times I mock myself for dropping the physics half of my double major when I transferred, thinking it would be useless.  There’s only one place in the area with any sort of technical jobs, and that’s the Rocket Factory.  If I quit now, will they ever hire me back again?  I certainly won’t be able to get a job down in my building, and since I pretty much despise the company itself, I don’t know if I’d want a job not with my current team.  They’ll have to fill my position as soon as I leave, though, so having a new position for a tech (of which there are very few on plant anyway) just when I’m ready to return would be close to a miracle.  I’d planned to continue working now basically because I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be able to get a job locally when I wanted to return if I quit.

Then again, daycare, extra gas money (we’d have to drive separate to be able to drop off and pick up within the daycare’s allotted times, and the better of the places we’ve found that is currently accepting infants is half an hour away, adding about two hours of extra driving per day), meals out, extra bottles and bags for pumping, more expensive cloth diapers (pockets only vs. mostly prefolds here), and likely even more copays for doctor’s appointments when he gets sick more frequently…they all add up.  It would easily cost over half my salary.  I’d pretty sure I’d be working for less than minimum wage.  If we have another child before this one’s in school full time, I’d be working just to pay to have the two of them in daycare.  I’d have to quit, placing me right back where I currently worry I’d be with not having somewhere to go when I return to work.  Why wait a few years when it’s going to happen anyway?

All my dreams of having a child revolve around getting to actually be with him.  With J working insane hours (a 24-hour shift followed by three hours at home before having to return??) and my needing to do the same once the reactor’s running full time, someone else would essentially be raising him.  I don’t say that to bash normal daycare arrangements, but he’d be in someone else’s care the majority of the day.  I want to be the one to teach my child about the world, about right and wrong, not someone else.

Today we’re going shopping for Christmas gifts and decorations for our first “real” Christmas, but we’re also going to have to make a big decision.  I hope we make the right one.

November 21st, 2009 by Ascelyn

My first shipment of cloth diapers arrived Thursday night.  I ordered the one-size pocket sampler from Mom’s Milk Boutique, plus two Thirsties Duo Wraps and a dozen DSQ Chinese prefolds.  Unfortunately, the Snappis and detergent (Charlie’s Soap) that I ordered from Amazon still haven’t arrived, so I can’t wash them and start using them for a few days yet.  Nevertheless, here’s my impression of them straight out of the box.

I’ll start with the bumGenius 3.0, since I had originally planned to order only these.  I hadn’t even really realized there were other one-size pockets on the market.  It has a two rows of snaps along the front to adjust the size and closes with hook and loop.  As with the others, it came bundled with both newborn and full-size inserts.  The full-size snaps down to provide more absorbancy in the front or back.  That’s really about all there is to it.  It’s the only one of the bunch that has a flap covering the opening of the pocket, but other than that, nothing really makes it stand out in either direction.  I guess we’ll have to wait and see once Michael gets to wear them.

Next up is Fuzzi Bunz.  While I appreciate how easy it seems like the Aplix closures will be to use while he’s squirming around, I like how adjustable the multiple rows of snaps seem to be.  It snaps to adjust both the waist and the hips instead of at the the front to adjust the rise.  Along the inside of the legs, the elastic peaks out and is held in place by buttons.  This allows you to adjust the leg elastics for a custom fit, something the others don’t have.  I like the feeling of the fabrics, both for the outside (not too plastic-y) and the inside (super soft).  The insert isn’t anything special, just a rectangular soaker bad, but I think the diaper’s my favorite so far.

On to Rumparooz G2.  These come in some of the cuter patterns I’ve seen on pockets–I got the multicolor dots and think it’s pretty freaking adorable for something that’s intended to be pooped in.  It snaps along the front to adjust the rise.  The outside fabric has kind of plastic-y, slippery feeling, but the inside is almost as soft as the Fuzzi Bunz.  I like that these have two layers of gussets along the edge to catch as much as possible before it escapes through the legs.  The inserts are nice–not only does the bigger insert snap down, but it also has an extra snap to attach the newborn insert for double absorbancy that stays in place.  I wouldn’t mind getting more of these if they fit except that they seem to be the most expensive of the bunch, coming in around $23.50.  Ouch.

Happy Heinys.  The name drives me insane.  It also had a spelling mistake right on the cardboard wrap-around label, which irritates me regardless of whether or not it should even matter.  Aplix front, typical fabrics, row of snaps in front to adjust size.  Two plain inserts.  Seems pretty much like the bumGenius 3.0 but not as nice.  I’d chose the former.

Last, Rocky Mountain.  I think these are my least favorite so far.  They seem…thin.  They’re not as soft.  The web site claims they have a better adjustment system due to the adjustable elastic along the legs inside, but it’s harder to get to than the ones on the Fuzzi Bunz.  A few snaps to adjust waist size, and that’s it.  It came with a bumGenius insert.

I like my Duo Wraps.  There are two rows of snaps along the front, much like the bumGenius pockets have, and they close via Aplix.  They should allow me to buy two sizes total and work from birth to potty training while still fitting better than a one size fits all deal.  Instead of buying four sizes, you buy two…and essentially have six, since each diaper adjusts to work as three different sizes.  They have double gussets to catch extra messes.

The prefolds I bought to go with them are just basic prefolds.  If everything works out, I think I’ll try getting a dozen unbleached Indian prefolds next time, just to see which I prefer.  Folding them looks like it’s going to be easier than I thought it would.  Youtube is a wonderful thing!  Not much more to say about them now since I’ll need to prewash them a few times before I can use them.

Hope the detergent gets here soon.  I want to get started!

November 19th, 2009 by Ascelyn

I’ve been meaning to post.  Really, I have.  I’ve had things to say, though they might just be sleep-deprived inanities.  But still.  They were things.

The baby’s one-month doctor’s appointment was today.  It was uneventful, except that the doc is suddenly wondering about the hematomas.  Yes, they’ve calcified.  Yes, they’re still quite visible.  You weren’t concerned when I tried to contact you about them while they were still growing rapidly, so I asked other people, and they’ve said this is normal.  Thanks a lot.

He’s now 10 lbs 4 oz and 22.5″ long.  That places him in the 50th percentile for weight and head circumference and the 75th for height.  He’s my long, lean baby boy.

I asked about his spit-up issues, and they immediately wanted to know how much I was feeding him at a time.  Like I know.  He’s breastfed.  They seemed shocked…kind of like the nurse filling out the questionaire at the ob/gyn on Tuesday, who wanted to know what kind of formula he was using, not whether or not he was using formula at all.

The most exciting thing that’s happened lately is his sudden ability to eat “properly,” without the shield.  One day he couldn’t, and the next he could.  My mom’s wonderful coworker, the nursing instructor for the maternity and pediatric classes at the college and mother of kids I used to babysit, helped me out.  I think he likes her.  I shouldn’t be so proud that I can finally feed my son at one month the way that most mothers can feed their babies at one day, but I really am.  Of both of us.

Other than that, there’s little to say.  He’s growing quickly, eating and sleeping and pooping like babies are wont to do.  I ordered the first of his cloth diapers a few days ago, and FedEx is reporting that they’re sitting on my front porch as we speak.  He got a sample pack of five one-size pocket diapers (bumGenius 3.0, Happy Heinies, Rump-a-rooz G2, Fuzzi Bunz, and Rocky Mountain), two Thirsties Duo Wraps, and a dozen DSQ Chinese prefolds.  That should get us started while I see which, if any, work best.  I’m planning to use the prefolds for daycare and at night and the covers and prefolds at home to save some money.  Hopefully I’ll miraculously learn how to sew and make some fitted or contour diapers myself, since they’re rather expensive.

Now if I could only heal properly, life would be excellent.  But that’s another post for another day.

November 7th, 2009 by Ascelyn

Fenugreek, anise, and coriander, among other things, should never be combined as a tea.

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!