Sleep Interrupted

A bit of normal sleep deprivation is to be expected as a parent of a newborn/infant/toddler. And it's normal to worry about your child, especially at night when you might not be conscious 24/7 to watch over them and ensure their safety.

At dinner tonight, this is what I had to tell myself when the Guy confessed the awful dreams that are colliding with his reality..

"I keep having dreams where I'm holding her. And I wake up, but I'm still half-asleep, and so I still think I'm holding her. And I turn and put her down on the bed. Then I'll turn to the nightstand to look at the clock or something, and when I turn back, she's gone. So in my half-asleep state, I start pulling up the covers and moving the pillows, and last night, I even tried to wake you up. And in the middle of yelling at you to wake up cause I lost her in the sheets, I turn and she's sleeping in her cradle. And this stupid thing keeps happening, night after night! It's freaking messed up!"

The description made me feel so bad for him, especially knowing that I totally slept soundly through his freakout last night and never once heard him yell out for me.

Overcome with Illness

I never once assumed becoming a parent would be easy. And 12 days later, I would never think to suggest such a thing.

But what I have found interesting is that what I thought would be difficult hasn't been so bad, but there are things I never in a million years would have anticipated that take me by surprise.

On the 4th day, for instance, I had one such surprise. The hospital I gave birth at is ridiculously awesome (in my opinion as a patient), and as part of their patient care, they allow the mother and baby to return to the hospital 48 hours post-discharge to check their vitals and allow the mother/parents to ask questions that they never would have thought to ask while in the hospital (namely because nursing staff working "behind the scenes" maybe took care of things that may have gone unnoticed until it came time to do them at home). Lulu and I went for our check-up and got a clean bill of health all around.

So imagine my surprise when, a mere 3-4 hours later, I had developed a fever, was projectile vomiting, and basically was slipping in and out of consciousness. (I wasn't really unconscious, but aside from feeling craptastic, I truly couldn't tell you much about what happened while I was sick because when I wasn't up to barf, I was passed out in my own sweat.) As I said to my mother when I was starting to feel better, I know I wanted to lose my pregnancy weight quickly, but losing 5 lbs and approximately 24 hours is just ridiculous. And not only did it totally suck physically, but my emotions were totally haywire from giving birth anyway. So basically every time I was awake, I started crying about how I'm the worst mother in the world because I couldn't take care of my daughter at all. (I could barely stay awake, so I couldn't risk holding her, lest I accidentally drop her, and I pumped as often as I could, but there definitely was one point during the middle of the night when I could not physically move, and my husband had to feed her formula.) Right, my point is, it sucked big time!

To be honest, I'm still not entirely sure what happened to me to go to that state so quickly. I have a theory, but I also have no way to prove that theory since, as far as I can tell, I've been better for days. Basically, it's this: I had flu-like symptoms, and the only thing that I can find relating to giving birth and having flu-like symptoms is mastitis (thank you, Heather Armstrong at Dooce.com, for blogging about it yourself over the last couple of days, and thank you, Mayo Clinic, for your incredibly helpful info). The thing is, though, as far as I can remember, I never developed a red mark on my breast. However, the way I "treated" my illness was basically, word for word, how they suggest it in the "Self-care remedies" section. So I never had the antibiotics at all, but it's possible that I might have gotten the infection/blocked duct to clear itself.

Blocked ducts, of sorts, are apparently the thing to have around these parts. Shortly after I started feeling better (a few days later), it was Lulu's turn to make her mom worry. Nothing remotely as severe, thank God, but I didn't know that when it first started. Her eyes were tearing up constantly on the 4th of July. I kept cleaning them out. But I was in for a bit of a shock when we all woke up for her 6 AM feeding on July 5th and her eye was practically sealed shut. It seemed like little baby pink-eye. As far as I knew, no one had any sort of eye problems at the picnic the day before. But it was just so bad that I had to have the Guy call her pediatrician's on-call doctor. The on-call doctor informed us not to worry because, from the description, it sounded like one of two things. It was either a blocked tear duct or an infection. She told us not to panic, keep cleaning it, and call the office first thing Monday morning. So that's what we did. After getting an appointment for a couple of hours later, we found out that it was actually both a blocked tear duct and an infection. Essentially, because we were unaware of her blocked tear duct (and therefore, didn't know that we had to massage it to force the tears out), her eye developed a non-contagious infection that had gunky build up similar to pink-eye without the redness. A little eye ointment for 5 days, and Lulu will be back to normal. (Heck, she's already tons better!)

I thought that the inconsolable crying and the midnight feedings were going to be the hard part. And don't get me wrong, when they happen, they're not that pleasant.

But I look forward to the day when the only pill bottles on the counter are for vitamins, not prescription medications, that's for darn sure!

Pretty in Pink

On Thursday, June 25, 2009, at 2:07 PM*, I gave birth to a stunning little baby girl. For the sake of people's anonymity on this blog and also the fact that her dad will kill me if I post her name (for a guy who owns a computer company, he truly thinks that the internet is some sort of conspiracy for all sorts of shady activity), let's just call her Little Lulu.

Surprisingly, this kid has been easy from start to finish.

Pregnancy was 98% perfect. A little nausea, a bit of acid reflux, and some swelling in my feet and ankles since Memorial Day weekend, but honestly, nothing of consequence. And while I'm pretty sure all my relatives (mom, aunt, sisters-in-law) all want to kill me, labor & delivery was actually not too awful either. Of course, this probably has to do with the fact that from the time I got my first contraction at 5:15 AM to the time I delivered her, only 9 hours had elapsed. I had more than enough time to get my epidural (in fact, the worst part of labor & delivery was the 30-40 minutes prior to the epidural). And to top it off, I only had to push for 17 minutes. (This really REALLY bugged one of my sisters-in-law, who pushed for almost 3 hours before they finally told her that, for her own physical well-being, she needed to finally give up and have a C-section.) And now, Lulu sleeps about 20 hours of the day. Which means I actually get about 6-8 hours of sleep everyday. Not necessarily 6-8 consecutive hours, but hey, I'll take it!

I figured it would take weeks to find a routine with my baby girl, but this kid and I were so meant to be a part of each other's lives.

You know, aside from the obvious fact that I'm her mom, of course.


*Ok, so it's possible I may have backdated and timestamped this post to her date/time of birth. Sue me. I'm a new mom. I barely remember to eat sometimes, let alone blog!

I Wonder

As I sit here and actually stop to think about the logistics of it, do women ever come to the conclusion that this whole concept of pregnancy, labor, & delivery is a REALLY STUPID IDEA?

Oh well, too late now.

A New Baby Boy!

And no, it's not mine!

Here's a little shout-out to my brand spankin' (except you're not supposed to do that to kids) new nephew, born very very late Tuesday night.

For those unaware, one of the Guy's sisters was pregnant as well and her due date was quite literally 2 days before mine. She was induced on Tuesday afternoon for medical reasons (she's fine, the baby's fine, but they wanted to make sure they STAYED fine, hence the induction), and low and behold, out popped the 1st baby boy for my husband's side of the family!

I'll admit it. I semi-wanted to give birth to the first boy. You know, even though I have NO clue whether this kid inside me is a boy or a girl (and neither does the kid, cause every time I ask it what it is, it won't nudge me or anything to let me know I'm on the right track!). (And also, I'd like to note that I will be PERFECTLY happy if this is a little girl, if for no other reason [and there are plenty of other reasons] than they don't pee on you as much when you try to change their diaper, or so I've heard.) And even though I thought I'd be a little bit jealous when this happened (cause I've been convinced for her entire pregnancy that she was carrying a boy), I was actually overwhelmingly happy for her.

And it also made my life a heck of a lot easier. Cause after 5 nieces (who I love and adore), it gets a little difficult trying to figure out what to buy for these new babies when the parents already have things for them. Going to Kohl's and buying all the adorable little blue and brown puppy clothes that I have been wanting to buy for my own child definitely made my life significantly easier, and not to mention extremely happy. (Cause it's all about me, obviously.)

I could continue on with my regular rant of why I think puppies are NEUTRAL cause EVERYONE LOVES PUPPIES and they are NOT boy things and WHY CAN'T BABY ITEM COMPANIES GET THIS THROUGH THEIR THICK SKULLS AND MAKE PUPPY THINGS IN PINK AND/OR ON GREEN/YELLOW CLOTHING ARTICLES...but that pretty much sums it up, so I'll spare you the rest.

(Seriously, not being able to buy neutral puppy clothing/decorative items for my baby and his/her nursery has actually brought me to tears on numerous occasions in the stores.)

I believe the word you're looking for is "Anyway..."

So welcome to the world, Little T! It's not all bad, despite that nasty circumcision you had to go through yesterday, I promise!

Preparations

So 38 weeks are over today. Only 2 more to go.

Maybe.

At last Wednesday's appointment, Dr. R. scared the crap out of me by telling me I was 2-3 cm dilated and 90% effaced. Her words, "With any luck, I'll see you this weekend." Totally instinctual gut reaction from me: "Well, holy crap!"

I had what I like to call a "nesting" instinct, but what everyone else probably called a major freakout. (Ok, I'll admit it. Even I call it a major freakout!) You see, I have this list. It's a list of things I have to purchase prior to the baby being born. I swear, it truly is things I need, not things I want. The majority of the stuff needs to be packed for the hospital, and the rest is stuff that will be necessary within hours of coming home from the hospital. There are plenty of things I want to have that are not on this list for a number of reasons, such as, 1) someone will probably buy it/them for me once I actually have the baby, or 2) it's something the child and I can both live without for a couple of days once he or she is actually born. Seriously, this is a "must have" list, for sure. (Even if it does have "lollipops" on it. Which, FYI, ARE a must-have, considering they're needed for labor, to keep my mouth moist from all the heavy breathing. No joke. The nurse who ran the birthing class told me to bring them.)

Well, when the doctor told me that, I lost my damn mind because I had checked off all of 3 items from this list out of, like, 20. Marathon shopping began immediately after leaving the doctor's office that night, and didn't really end until 10 PM on Thursday evening, when my mom and I quite literally closed down Target (they started shutting the lights off on us!). But basically, I was ready. I could relax and have the baby early if I needed to.

And then the baby didn't come.

This is probably (ok, definitely) a good thing, for numerous reasons, but especially beause while I get that things can change in a split second, I had a wedding to go to on Saturday and well, it just wasn't in the plans to give birth, too. I would've felt extremely terrible if it was the bride's day and then all of a sudden I was like, "Um, yeah, I'm in labor, sorry!" Plus, I've gotta tell you, it's wicked fun doing the Cha-Cha Slide at 37+ weeks pregnant, at the point when the guy goes, "How low can you go?" No one actually expects the pregnant woman to go all the way to floor, and yet, I totally did.

I'm kind of surprised the kid didn't just shoot out of me at that moment, actually.

What I Am Not

On Tuesday, I will officially be 37 weeks pregnant.

However, I still will not be an animal at the zoo.

Please do not pet me. Please do not stare at me for uncomfortable, awkward 10-minute intervals.

I'm self-conscious enough as it is. It's worse when I feel like I'm on display with people who are supposed to be some of my closest friends.

I'd much rather shrink into the background, please.

A Lesson on Bravery

First of all, this has nothing to do with the topic of bravery, but I have to say -- I can't believe I let it happen. I can't believe I went over a month without blogging. I mean, I know I don't have much to say, but I've never done that before. I don't know whether I'm proud of myself or ashamed of myself. (I think it's a little of both.)

Now to the topic at hand.

About a week ago, I met up with Irish and Blondie for dinner at Chili's and a movie. Being my 8-months-pregnant self (give or take), I really wasn't feeling like anything especially healthy for dinner. And that's strange, cause Chili's is the only restaurant where I actually will voluntarily order the salad. (However, I find it hard to believe that the Quesadilla Explosion is actually healthy, but whatever. It's delicious. It has vegetables. It has grilled chicken instead of fried. That's healthy to me.) But I didn't want the salad, so I opted for a very lame chicken fingers with fries. And on this note, I will comment that the Chili's Honey Chipotle Chicken Fingers dipped in ranch dressing are actually a delightful treat.

But here's the thing. Shortly after our food arrived, Irish reached over and grabbed a fry. I looked up, and smiled, and said, "That was incredibly brave of you to touch a pregnant woman's french fries." We all laughed. But then, later on in the meal, Blondie finished her healthy tilapia, but must've still be hungry cause her hand wandered onto my plate and snatched a fry too. I know I wasn't really angry at them, but at the same time, I was sitting there, whining in my own head, "But those are MY fries!"

So children, the lesson to be learned is...never touch a pregnant woman's food unless she appears full and thus has given you permission to touch said food.

I mean, I like my friends, so it all worked out just fine for all of us. But if they had been random people, they might have lost their hands.

(And also, why would random people be coming over, trying to snatch my dinner?)