3 am adoration

Yes, he pooed at last. Quite a normal soft poo and not stinky like the last one; real breast milk poo. I sort of hope he starts on a more normal cycle now, but this may be his normal cycle.

Today was a bit crazy due to lack of sleep, on the adult side, but on the Noah side it was mostly a day of delights. He's looking around more and lifting his legs up off of surfaces and occasionally finding his hands with each other. I lose time in a new way now - staring at Noah and realizing 10, 15, 20 minutes have gone by. He's a whole person, as Lyria said, and I cheerfully take on the next 20+ years in getting to know him.

I wore him in the sling today; I don't really trust his wee head and neck to it yet so I just let it carry some of the weight while holding him in my arm. He seemed to take to it, which I hope continues.

He started in on the fussy/pre-colicky behaviour right on schedule at about 10 pm, after an attempt at an extra-long feed that we gently pre-empted, since he seemed to be sucking more for comfort than anything (quite frantic comfort at that). Lyr put him in a cross-cradle hold across our bare belly and let him take a few more sucks at the nipple before adjusting him a bit so he was against the breast but not really in a position to actually feed. Then we rocked and sang and he quieted down and sort-of slept: he didn't relax completely and his breathing was still pretty rushed.

Once he seemed to go into a deep sleep we tried to put him down in the co-sleeper but despite making it a ten minute transition, he woke up abruptly and wailing. So we repeated the cross-cradle hold move, and he went to sleep again. I held him on the couch until I was really afraid I'd fall asleep that way (and pretty much did), at which point Carl took over and held him until 1 am, while I slept a bit. Then he woke up for a feed, and his poo, and some playtime, and some adoration and love, and now it's 3:40 am and I shall slip back into bed.

I enabled non-blogger comments and welcome to people commenting! I definitely won't take Noah just anywhere while he's dependent on breast milk for his immunities. It's a really hard balance between having little moments of sanity and connection to our community, and taking the time to establish our nest and keep him really safe, for sure.

Not colic yet, but...

I had a celebratory dinner that Noah's gaining and thriving and happy and healthy, and looked forward to getting if not more sleep, better, less anxious sleep.

Until he started power-nursing with real fussiness at the breast and I finally figured out he wasn't hungry, he was sucking to try to... get rid of gas? deal with his hard day? escape from an over-anxious mum? Whatever it was it quickly escalated into full-blown crying at length - like 3 hours. My mother in law took him away and sent me to bed, since I'd gotten maybe a half hour the night before plus a brief nap in the afternoon. She used to be a maternity nurse and knew some tricks to at least halfway calm him down, which I want to learn today, hopefully in theory.

The cats were quite disgusted with me: do something! they meowed.

I learned a lot about myself and the system, at least this first (hopefully not the first of many many, but certainly there will be more) night of long long crying. There wasn't any anger at Noah, which was something I'd worried a bit about, especially in myself, who am quick to anger. It is hard to feel helpless, though, and I had to do a lot of deep breathing to not tense up and make quicker motions (or clumsier, since I was really the walking dead at that point).

I think the worst of it for me is that any feeling of helplessness tends to lead to Dark Thoughts - that he's dying, that letting him cry the night before utterly broke any parent-baby bond and he'll be unhappy the rest of his life. Attachment parenting contends that a truly loved and bonded child is unlikely to develop colic (which again, this is not yet, but I wonder - both Carl and I were colicky babes).

My mind says that if you say colic only occurs in unloved babies of course when you ask parents if their babies have colic they'll say no. But my new, fragile parent-self that wanders the kitchen in the night wondering about poo and wet diapers and whether I will totally fuck my kid up and whether I would notice if he were really sick, says if you'd only left him on the breast last night he'd never have any need to cry ever, forever. And then it says and you're ruining him having these negative thoughts in his presence! (Grr attachment parenting for all the guilt. Nevertheless I am baby-wearing today.)

I wonder why parenting brings back a lot of magical thinking. Maybe it's because I'm so desperate to have it come out okay. It's not that I don't think negative thoughts have some power - they do - but I don't think they have immediate power in that way. They make me tense, and that communicates to Noah.

And I did anyway - get tense, that is. I actually willfully stepped back out of the front at one point because I was all in adrenaline-protector mode. That's hard to do while in protector mode, but other members of the system were just waiting for me to do it, so there was a push to get me to hand the baby over to them. Even so, he didn't stop crying.

It was hard to hand him over to his grandma when she offered, but not as hard as maybe I would have liked - at that point we could recognize that we needed to put our oxygen mask on first, or so the rationalization goes, but it still felt like a failure. The bleeding had gotten heavy again, and my feet were swollen, and my eyes were dry and I was really clumsy - really massive sleep deprivation, tempered a bit by worry. If I'd been on my own I'd've coped, but I didn't have to.

It was really hard on Lyria to hand him over though and she cried before we fell asleep for that blessed hour and a half. Somehow it's really not the same as handing him over to Carl. (Carl was asleep, as we'd agreed that he might need to be a backup for later in the night.)

I had the thought if we hadn't messed her up by living at my parents' some this year that Noah wouldn't have had this upset, but that's unfair. Lyr may represent an earth-godessy type to us, but she's just a person, and it's unrealistic to think that just because she often is the one with the right gentle touches that she can somehow create a charmed babyhood out of nowhere.

Magdalynn is, perhaps unsurprisingly, the best at handling Noah when he's frantic like that. She takes it as a sort of badge of honour that he's fierce and strong, where the rest of us are more in the realm of: are his bowels exploding as we speak? Is he in pain? what about his diaper? She just laughs and sings folk songs to him. The only hard part there is she has no relationship to Carl at all, and so she has a tendency to vanish as soon as he comes to check up.

In any case we made it through. He did calm down some and got to sleep around 2, although he woke often and didn't go back down easily for his 3:30 and 5 am feeds. Right now I'm wearing him in the sling and he's passed out. I should sleep, but it's daytime and it's so hard to sleep in the daytime (that's another post).

Still no poo either, but we're not to worry about that yet. If I go ahead with taking him down to work I presume he'll have a huge blownout right in front of everyone.

And I will just laugh.

Shandra

door #1...

he's fine, yay. The little porker's gained 2 oz, no bad for a breastfed baby at 8 days, and some babies don't poo as much, said crusty dr. n. who was actually very good and calm and soothing and handled noah gently, which gets points from me.

Soft breasts are fine if they have milk & mine do.

if i could drink i would be sloshed in the margueritas right now!

Happy days.

Shandra

Medical progress

There seems to be enough milk going on, at least. That's a good thing.

The lactation clinic called back this morning (promptly! wow!) and said it sounds like everything is happening all right and maybe he's just slow to get to - err - full poo production, but that his weight is really important (duh) and get him weighed. Since I already had an appointment at the dr's office for 12:15 today to do that, we're in business. If he's not gaining I'll call them back, and if he is gaining we're clear for another few days at least.

I'm a little tired and strung out, but with an appointment in hand and having talked to the clinic I feel a bit better. The only lousy thing is the dr we're seeing is Dr. N., the one doctor in the family group I try to avoid. But surely he can use a scale.

Shandra

Breastfeeding woes

One really has to wonder how babies ever used to survive. Of course some of them didn't.

Breastfeeding is going not so incredibly hot of late: we had a really good early start, loads of transitional milk, and a happy baby. But then (okay, deep breath: mother discusses baby poop!) Noah stopped pooing a lot. Which is one of those signs of concern. After calling Telehealth and all that he produced a couple of poos, and then went on a little one-day strike. Then he pooed. Yes he is going to the doctor today, despite it not being my family doctor but her backup. But we didn't consider it enough of an emergency again to expose him to the germs at the walk-in clinic, since a cold would bugger his nursing but good too.

I was consoling myself that all the other factors seem fine (weight being measured on our kitchen scale, he's nearly back to his birth weight, but I'm not sure how reliable it is; we will find out at the doctor's today) when he started nursing about every hour and 15 minutes, with occasional 2-3 hr gaps. Maybe a little growth spurt?

But then last night he moved to about every 45 minutes and my breasts didn't entirely keep up, leaving him at one point wailing in distress at the nipple. There is nothing more upsetting to me, I discovered, than having my baby hungry and not having any milk. Of course being stressed interferes with milk production.

Carl took him for half an hour, wailing, while I laid in bed with my hands over my ears and went through every relaxation technique in the book and visualized earth goddess and milk and honey flowing. No really. (Although I think Lyr was pushing me to. One would think Lyria's breasts would never give out, but apparently it doesn't work that way.) It did help and we had a good nurse, and have all night... at hour and a half intervals... but my breasts have not come back to "rock solid and dripping" as they were before. In fact they're mushy. But as long as he's satisfied at the end of the feed (and he has been) I guess it's okay.

I find that all the information out there about any of this is contradictory and unhelpful, by the way. I have three parenting books and they don't agree; add in the immediacy of the Internet and it's enough to make you crazy. Which maybe interferes with milk production.

Still, I think I have narrowed down the possibilities:

1) He's fine, he just had a growth spurt, and his intestines are unusually mature, hence the lack of tons of poos. The only reason I think that might be a possibility is that his development is really good: he opens his eyes, responds to smiles and faces, can sometimes track a finger moving for a while, can roll on his side, and climb up a sitting body to perch on the shoulder. No really. He's definitely not lethargic or anything like that. And if I ever wondered if he would kick up a fuss if he weren't getting fed, well, tonight solves -that- question. Can the child ever wail.

But the no-poo is still a bad sign.

2) We have a bad latch which is causing all kinds of lack of -quality- milk intake. (Quantity, to judge from pee production, is okay, despite the inability to go at a 45-minute interval schedule. he's definitely not dehydrated.) This is probably the most likely, although *I* can't tell where the latch is bad. Next stop, breastfeeding clinic.

Weight gain is probably the determining factor between these two.

3) The continued bleeding I'm having, which is not insignificant, means there are little placental bits still in the uterus, which is also known to interfere with milk production. In which case it would be a D&C and hopefully work it out after. The obstetrician is therefore on today's list of people to call as well. I think this one's a quick bloodtest to find out.

4) The mysterious weight problems we've had continue in some nebulous way. At my end: I am having trouble holding onto any weight at all, and am one lb away from my pre-pregnancy weight, despite eating as much good food as regularly as I can while feeding at 1.5 hr intervals (and occasionally clearing my head by eating at the computer, like right now). I'm also trying to stay in bed a lot and not burn calories, although that is harder going. At Noah's end: no poo. 'Nuff said.

I'm amazed at how hard this stuff is. I really see why people go to formula and for all I know we will too, although I would much much much rather not - I'd probably try pumping first. But it feels so personal and also, so scary, to be in this supply and demand dance that may not be working. I wish I could relax, because that would likely help, but I can't. And I am finding it hard to deal with the medical system, whatever the reasons. I really wish my family doctor were not away this week.

Sometimes when Noah's at a particular angle he looks a lot like Emily - he has the same chin and lips and neck - and I get this wave of hopelessness, that he will be sick or die too. I think any mother would be just as concerned as I am about the feeding, but I think I am maybe more aware of the actual possibilities of things going wrong and that puts me into a slightly higher mode of anxiety. For all I know that may be the only problem. Not sure how I would solve that one.

Shandra

Day seven

(This post brought to you courtesy of Noah who had a good sleep at night, nursed for an hour and a half, and went back down painlessly, and his dad, who set him up for the good sleep playing with him and holding him between 11 and 1 am.)

It's a week now since I went into labour at 4:30 am and already I can hardly remember being pregnant. My body feels sore still, and tired, and I'm still bleeding enough that if it isn't slowing more by Monday I'll have to go in again - sigh. There are still funky hormones around, prolactin (the milk maker) being an especially cool one - after a feed I can actually feel a bit giddy, if I'm not exhausted. The difference in labours is amazing, especially considering that they were both vaginal. Last time I felt like someone had ripped up my insides and this time I feel - light and also whole.

All of that is still dwarfed by Noah. I live mostly in ten minute increments, which seem to stretch on forever, and then suddenly it's Friday. I haven't made any phone calls or done any of the social things I Ought To Do because I find it hard to stop staring at Noah, holding Noah, checking that Noah is breathing, or eating/drinking/sleeping mostly so as to keep Noah supplied with breast milk. Yesterday I set a goal though of making two calls (done!) and today it is two calls and a walk... somewhere, probably just to the bluffs down the street. Possibly to Toys R Us.

Noah himself is thriving. If parents get the children they can handle, apparently Carl and I can't handle very much. He eats at 2-3 hour intervals, but last night he made it between a feed that ended at 1:45 to 6 am this morning, with one wake-up - I held him on my chest until he settled back down and then boom, it was 6 am. I feel drunk on sleep, since that's the longest bout I've had in a week. I try to sleep when the baby sleeps and remind myself that it's a marathon, not a sprint, but as usual I find sleeping in the day almost impossible.

He cries some, but so far only for a reason - hiccups are scary, the diaper is wet, the belly is empty. I know that the screaming for no reason bouts will come, but so far we're still in the newborn honeymoon period. He's been called a fairy baby for more than one reason, except his farts decidedly do not smell like roses.

The obsession with diapers is full-on, since it's about the only way besides a general impression that one can tell that Noah's ok. We had a bit of a panic Thursday - between the meconium and the breast milk stools there was about a 36 hour gap, and the hospital had said if he went 24 without a soiled diaper there was a problem. We went down to the lactation clinic but they were fully booked with appointments (we'd called, too, but they hadn't called back fast enough for me).

Carl and I had that moment where the medical system dropped out from under us at that point - it was nearly 4 pm, my doctor's on holiday with only a walk-in clinic backing her up (effectively; there is another doctor in her practice but I have a 25 year history of conflict with him), and we weren't sure whether we should take him in there or what to do next. We have so little faith now in any doctor we don't know - something to think about if we decide to move to a pediatrician (if we can find any taking patients).

I was having a breakdown in the car - the night before of course Noah had cluster fed all night so I was on one hour's sleep - when I decided to call Telehealth Ontario. That's what they're for after all - help you decide if you need to go into an emerg or a clinic or whatever. They were really good on the phone, although of course they depended on my powers of observation, and the answer came back that he would be okay for another 12 hours and *then* panic.

When we got home the lactation consultant had called and said the same.

And then a few hours later he had a poo. I am sure no parent was more proud.

I'm not sure I like medicine by call centre, but Telehealth's number is now at the top of my speed dial.

Noah's also developing by leaps and bounds. He keeps his eyes open longer now and really seems to be looking at things, although in an unfocused way. He likes to suck on his fingers, even if his hands seem to flail completely beyond his control. It's funny to watch him chasing them down. He seems to be gaining weight; his cheeks have filled out a bit more and his belly is getting that rounded look. He has a long neck for a baby, but it still has those folds.

He lifts his head a lot and works his legs and arms whenever he can. He turns his head towards sounds he likes, like my voice or Carl's. Sometimes he gets fussy from looking, and then if I put him on the breast for a comfort suck he sucks and looks around some more as if suddenly safe with it.

For me parenthood has taken over so completely that I sometimes feel like I'm falling. It's a pleasant fall, but I am not always sure how to access my old self, the one that wasn't obsessed with poo. Part of that too may be that Lyria is so much more around, enjoying baby time. Magdalynn contributes parenting tricks which often, oddly enough, turn out to be right (and if that's not the weirdest turn around in a system person ever, I'm not sure what would be). The kids are happy, but sometimes hushed like they're scared to hurt the baby. Lynn plays music, which I take to be a good sign, and everyone else seems to just take a turn.

Now he's fussy so I'll go get him and enter the ten-minute world again.

Shandra

Finally, a picture of Noah

This is one of my favourites from the hospital. Here he's about 20 hours old.

day four

(today's & the backdated birthstory post on the 21st brought to you courtesy of noah, who had a good sleep on my arm at my desk)

dear noah,

today is your fourth day of life! i'm typing this one handed because you're snuggled into my left arm, your hand spread across your face as if you're saying moooooooooommmm why are you making me listen to raffi. (because. although if asked i will claim i'm trying to teach you about mornings vs. nights.) you're sound asleep after a 6:45 feed, but it was short so i know already that chances are you'll wake up in 45 minutes for another. you do long feeds now, but not every time.

we're still getting the hang of this feeding thing, you and i. the boobs are cooperating madly, already puffed up with transitional milk. but we still miss our latches sometimes and i have a bruise from the time i coughed when you clamped down in the wrong spot on the nipple. my boobs seem twice as big as your head, sometimes.

you've changed so much already. you work on lifting your head already and can throw yourself on your side - although you did that in the delivery room after they weighed you on that nasty scale. when you're sleeping or drowsy you cycle through your faces - smiles, frowns, and right when you're full and warm and deep asleep, a drunk sailor look. you've learned to grip with your thumb too, in your fist - that was new yesterday. you climbed up your father's body to see if his earlobe might not be a boob in disguise.

i've learned a lot too. i was surprised at how clumsy i was and still sometimes am, learning to hold you and my boob, or passing you around, or getting you into the carseat. it's physical learning for me, too. i got stuck on the bed in a bad feeding position two nights ago, but you had such a perfect latch and were so hungry that i held it as long as i could, my body getting all shaky because those stretched out abs just couldn't do it. then i was tired out myself and cranky at your next feed, just the way you are when you lift your head too much. i learned to slow down & get comfy, myself.

you've started to open those blue eyes of yours more and more. at first you couldn't coordinate nursing and looking, but now you sometimes do both. you look confused and overwhelmed when you look around and it tires you out. but to me sometimes i fancy there *you* are, beyond the instincts, and i love to be one of the fuzzy things you see.

what amazes me about you is how strong and healthy you are. i was braced for something awful to happen, esp. with your low birth weight. at the very least i thought you would be colicky or deaf or have some mysterious rash, but so far you are even more than fine. you like the deep nighttime for new things, maybe because you were born then. in the mornings you sleep more and in the evening you gradually get fussy.

lying skin to skin with you is the best drug ever.

Arrival

We're home - we having expanded by the arrival of Noah Benjamin, born at 38 weeks and weighing 6 lbs 2 oz - so a small baby, but not dangerously small. He had Apgar scores of 9 and 9, which means he was in really good shape, and he is currently learning about opening his eyes, feeding, and the taste of his own hands without amniotic fluid. And diaper changes. And clothes. And that the world moves if the person holding you walks around. All kinds of confusing sensory information.

As far as I am concerned he's tied for most beautiful baby ever with Emily. But you knew I would think so.

He has sandy blond hair.

Birth story soon to come.

Breastfeeding is surprisingly hard.

noah's birth story

so we got down to the hospital, after having to come back because i left my wallet with hospital, health cards, and all id, at home. but i had my ipod with my labour songs playlist the whole time!

the contractions weren't much worse, but they hooked me up to the monitor anyway. it was really reassuring to hear the baby's heartbeat. the contractions were weak little blips & the resident pretty much said we'd be going home, but she'd do an internal first to check it out. all that took 'til about 9:15.

then when she did she got a funny look and said cheerfully: you're 3 cm dialated and i could break your membranes right now! (i think i flinched:)). so we were admitted and in a delivery room by 10 & back on a monitor. we had the option to walk around in the lobby instead but i said no.

we were assigned a nurse and she went over dr. seaward's instructions with me and also over all the history. she, like most ppl at mt. sinai, didn't really believe me about what happened in the labour but she humoured carl & i. she also pointed out that dr. seaward had said that we could only have *one* variable decel (up until pushing) before we'd have a c-section, and she said it would be good to be mentally prepared for a c-section, given both that and my weak contractions, which were barely showing on the tape. it sort of hit me that things were really happening, then, and that we wouldn't just be going home. it took that long.

we were getting a little freaked out at that point, that tensing feeling as people brace for disaster.

the resident came in & checked the tape a lot, for about an hour. like every 20 min. there were scarcely any contractions at all and around 11 she brought an intern in to rupture the membranes. to everyone's surprise i was at 4 cm. they had a terrible time - both of them, by turns - apparently the sac was really tough, which for some reason struck me & amber as a badge of honour (we were in that deadpan humour phase I get into when i feel really threatened) . But they managed, and, whoosh, the waters flooded out. the resident said 'wow, you just went to 5 cm.'

noah hadn't dropped yet, and the resident did a really funky (if painful) thing; she and the nurse worked to push him down with the water to a lower station, trying to make sure no hand got caught. i got the idea they weren't fooling around, like they intended to actually get the baby out. unlike east general where they kept leaving us be for an hour at a time.

then the real transition contractions hit, hard, 2-3 minutes apart. the nurse asked me right away if i wanted an epidural. i said i wasn't sure - i was scared it would slow labour down. then she said she would suggest having one right then, because she had already seen one variable decel (which i missed) and then the c-section could be an awake one rather than under general. so i said ok, do it.

then the monitor lost the baby's heartbeat for a few seconds and i had a huge flashback, full body, to emily's labour. when i got with it enough to say anything, the resident was already in the room to put a scalp monitor on. when she did noah's heart rate went up to 180 and i really thought he would just die then - i was in that traumatized reactionary state where all of life is one big repetition of the original.

(it was actually a good reaction to the pinch, but a little unusual. he came back down to 135.)

the first anesthesiologist came in (now about midnight) and did all the med history questions, which i was having a lot of trouble answering in the midst of transition, & gave us the warnings about side effects and rare complications. i knew all that but it freaked me out anyway, esp. after the monitor incident - i really felt that trust abyss where emily died of 'rare' things, in a hospital, & i almost said no but the pain was adding to my incentive to say yes, so we went ahead.

i was fully dialated 20 min after they broke the sac, and the speed of it made me nauseous.

then we hit the dark night of labour: i had to sit on the edge of the bed & not move during contractions while she (for those of you who don't know) first froze the site & then stuck a huge needle & catheter down my spine. they were so hard it was hard not to push. she couldn't get into my epidural space & had to call in the other anesthesiologist & i just *flipped* that i was going to get one of these complications, in between hard contractions where i still could not move. carl was amazing at talking me & us down, by focusing on breathing & his hand, which i was bruising.

in hindsight i am *so* glad to have been at a hospital where the anesthesiologist just called for backup rather than getting into an ego thing. but at the moment she did, i panicked.

it took two more tries for the second anesthesiologist to get it in, and my poor back remains all bruised up, but it went. the pain came down and i got on my back & the obstetrician came in and said 'let's have a baby.' i was on one level just completely floored that anyone was actyally *there* to like, help. but i was still freaked & said i wasn't sure i could push. the ob asked me why & i said because i was remembering strangling my daughter. again the blank mt. sinai reaction - what and odd idea, nevermind that it -happened-. so she explained that was impossible.

ok, whatever, but i was on my back by then so there was no time to get into it. the ob went down to the business end and said 'push into my fingers on the next contraction'. i could feel fine to push, and i guess and gotten good at it with emily. the first pushing and noah was past the spot where emily got stuck, and i was euphoric and told carl about 3 times that i *could* do it. 4 more and he was right out - took about 5 minutes. yay second deliveries. no episiotomy, just a little tear - no stitches.

he coughed and didn't cry and i said 'what's wrong?' and then he shrieked & it was the best. sound. ever. they delivered him to my belly and he calmed right down & started rooting, the little breast man. the nurse latched him on for me & he nursed for about an hour - they weighed him & stuff but my memory of when is a little fuzzy. he was -mad- about being weighed & actually flipped himself onto his side in a rage at which point the nurse said 'this is why you don't let go of them on the change table.'

it was both heartbreaking, the difference, and incredibly -right- to hold him and see him pink and breathing and, my god, sucking. we all cried loads. i am now thinking about it.

it was a good entry into the world.

Heading down

Well - 6 minutes apart, still not really painful or anything, but triage says to come in and get checked out at this point (baby too) - so off we go.

This is a note to myself to remember to post about the woman at the ultrasound, too, sometime, 'cause I was going to today. :)

Updates as we manage them, but no worries. Hold your thumbs tho!!

Still...

Still every 15 minutes ish; still not getting harder or longer. We even slept through a few with a nap.

This is a more traditional labour I guess. :)

ugh

I have a feeling this is the kind of labour that can go on for 3 days. And here I thought we'd be going so fast. But nothing's really getting more intense, just painful and between 6-15 minutes apart, now.

Contractions

Ow. These are serious ones, about 15 minutes apart but not quite evened out to an actual schedule yet. Still, Carl got up and showered. I half hope they stop again and half hope they don't.

You would think the second time around it would be easier to be sure. I know we'll hit a point where we are, but we're not yet. Sigh. I worry too that we'll dissociate ourselves out of them until we end up delivering in the car... but that may be arrogant thinking. :)

Shandra

Still not in labour

We are only at 38 weeks, so. It's just after the weekend and Monday's excitement I thought for sure something would have happened by now.

Yesterday's ultrasound went okay; it seems to have mostly been for my benefit, and to check the cord position. No measurements for weight, etc. Noah was turned with his butt on my left side, so from the right we got a good look at his face, at least as good as one can get in ultrasound. Already I think he is the cutest boy around, at least the cutest one in black and white.

Today is my first day...

... on maternity leave, although since I have been working Mon-Wed for a while now, it won't really be a new schedule 'til Monday, assuming we make it that far. Everything labour-related seems to have just halted in its tracks; I barely have even had Braxton-Hicks. I have an ultrasound this afternoon though, so that might show something.

My obstetrician is on call at the hospital today and then away for a week. I was sort of hoping to go into labour last night, to be honest: show up on his shift and the day after work ended and everything. It would be perfect! Apparently baby-timing doesn't work that way though. Quel surprise!

I admit that although we're only at almost-38-weeks, I am ready. It would probably be good for Noah to stay in and gain some more weight, and I'm at peace with that to some extent. I'm appreciating the feel of him moving inside me, something I will miss later on. I'm appreciating my DINK lifestyle for the last little bit: today after the ultrasound I'm hopefully getting that dinner out that Carl had to cancel on Tuesday. I'm taking child and infant CPR tonight without having to get a babysitter. I can go shop easily any time. I slept hours and hours last night, perhaps most preciously.

But the tension between memories of Emily's birth and death and this pregnancy is getting higher and higher. I will be glad to move to the next phase. Although physically I actually do feel better than I have for most of the pregnancy, emotionally I'm running out of steam a bit. I know that it won't be the end of fear; it will probably be the beginning of fear in a lot of ways. No - I want to know what happens, I think. That's very me. I would like to know which way to jump.

My original plan for if this baby didn't make it wasn't a very good plan. I know it's awful to make contingency plans for these things in one's mind; I don't believe it affects bonding or creates negativity that isn't already there, or anything like that. I do think it demonstrates a lack of faith, and a lack of faith is definitely a loss.

But anyways, my news contingency plan is that if this baby dies I'll get a Vespa. I know how ridiculous and bad that sounds; bad mother! How could a Vespa substitute for a baby! It sounds horrible and materialistic. Well from personal experience I already know there is no substitution. Nope. None. So, chers readers, it's not about a substitution. It's about an image of me that could possibly come through that fire again, alive.

And a few weeks back I saw a young 20-something woman, a beautiful brunette, dressed in a very nice stylish suit, and a cute helmet, sitting on her Vespa waiting for the light. It was around 5:30 and most people downtown look a bit downtrodden by then, but she looked radiant, in the summer evening glinting light. She was smiling and healthy looking, somehow. And free: if you could capture an image of free that includes corporate attire, this would have been it. And just briefly, I was envious of her, or at least what she represented to me in that moment. I felt the opposite: exhausted, dressed in worn maternity clothes, tired, stretch-mark covered underneath, and burdened with worry about Noah's weight.

There is nowhere for a baby seat on the Vespa.

I said a few times last summer I think that what was saving me from complete disaster was finding that part of myself that is totally unconnected to parenthood (and I mean that for myself, not in the multiple sense of the word; everyone in our system had to do that for themselves). And this time, this pregnancy, I have occasionally felt like that portion of my spirit that rose up last time just well, wouldn't if something happened this time. But the Vespa incident, that flash of envy and desire/respect for freedom, made me feel it again. So that's why the plan.

I have a birth plan this time, and a death plan. I am sad that I need both, but I have both in hand. So I guess I'm ready.

Shandra

Not in labour

We're not in labour yet! I mean I knew that but the internal confirmed that it's not likely to be happening today or even tomorrow (after that, anyone's guess). Somewhat effaced, but nothing to write home about.

So tonight I will eat out in a very baby-unfriendly restaurant, now that Carl's not on call from 5-10 pm as he has been for the past 3 weeks. :)

Shandra

Progressions

Annnnd as I hit return and go to the bathroom - zowie! A mucus plug, or at least a piece of it, with much goopey fanfare.

(Hey, I presume if you're reading this blog, you know the risks involved.)

Last time this happened 2+ weeks before labour, so, not impressed entirely. But still. Things progress.

If this is the energy surge, yay nature

I feel *so* good today. Energetic, cheerful, giddy, even. Maybe manic would be a closer single-word description. This could be the much-rumoured energy rush before labour, or it could just be me. I feel like I'm remembering who me is; this is me, having energy, not feeling nauseous or tired or like a beached whale. Except of course I am me then too. But this is what I consider "normal" to be. My biggest problem is not doing too much and hurting myself.

That and not rushing out to get smoked salmon and prosciutto. I miss the smoked & cured meats, man.

I'm working though, from home, and that keeps me sedentary, so go work. Otherwise I think I would scrub the kitchen floor. It's tempting. Replacing this floor is definitely on the priority list: it looks sort of dingy and it picks up dirt like there's no tomorrow, because the tiles have grooves in them. And the grout is old.

I also feel hugely loved and cared for. Friends, family of the heart, family. It's just been that kind of week really. The kind where maybe you get an inkling that this is everything you hang in there for. Some things I control (my behaviour and choices in the relationships of my life) and some things I don't (death, illness, other people's behaviour). But this week I feel the village around me and today I feel that all's right in the world. There is a part of me, always, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I can say: hello part, you go on watching for that shoe which will or won't fall anyway, meanwhile I am going to go trim the basil so that it doesn't all go to seed and inhale the scent of summer.

So, things to appreciate: the house is not Done but it is really liveable at this point. Carl did the switches upstairs so we don't have holes in the walls and the living room is cleaned out and the rooms on the main floor and most of the rooms downstairs are pretty much in what's likely to be their final-but-changing state. Things are in logical places. There are still Things To Do but they're mostly getting new things or minor improvements, not just unpacking or whatever.

In other words, this is sort of - what normal is like. Stuff to do, but not overwhelming amounts.

I like it. Especially just right now.

XX.

I taste a liquor never brewed,
From tankards scooped in pearl;
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an alcohol!

Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.

When landlords turn the drunken bee
Out of the foxglove's door,
When butterflies renounce their drams,
I shall but drink the more!

Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,
And saints to windows run,
To see the little tippler
Leaning against the sun!

- Emily Dickinson

Okay Noah, I think we're as ready as we'll ever be. But you come when you're ready (up to 40 weeks and then you're out, kiddo!) Staying like this would be okay for a little while too.

Exit signs

So, Saturday I had about 10 hours of mildly painful contractions about 20-30 minutes apart, although they faded at the end. We'd been engaging in ah, activity, prior to that so I blame Carl doubly of course.

That time I felt calm and relaxed. Partly because, you know, no real pain. But also I was sort of relieved like maybe we could just get it all over with? That would be nice. I did put the car seat cover back on in a rush and finish packing my bag.

Then last night from about 10:30 - 2 am I had more painful contractions, but with no real pattern to them - 10 minutes apart to 40 minutes apart. I didn't do so well with those; I started getting tense and freaked out. I also cleaned up the dinner dishes, which I'd uncharacteristically abandoned earlier in the evening. Almost like the opposite reaction. But those stopped too. I didn't go into work today, although I'm going to do some work from here. I'm supposed to have the hospital tour of the maternity ward tonight, which could end up awfully convenient.

So far this second labour is not shorter at all! But I think because I had the flu last time I could easily have missed all this. Or it's just progressing differently. I have an appointment tomorrow so perhaps if nothing's happened we'll find out then if my cervix's effaced/dilated.

Eeee.

Shandra

Sleep in, preparations, guilt, and other miscellanea

I slept in until 9 am this morning, which for me is pretty late - if I'm really out late I can sleep in longer, but generally I'm a morning person. Carl's not, so we're hoping this will make for really good tradeoffs in baby duty. It felt luxurious but also gave me a headache, because I think I spent most of those hours in the same position and my back got a bit cramped.

On Thursday I bought the Baby Signs book as well as the aforementioned nursing outfit. I felt oddly guilty because we fully intended to buy it for Emily and, you know, didn't get around to it. Of course you can't really use baby signs until 6 months anyway, so it's not like we didn't have time, but it's still this odd feeling like being more optimistic about Noah is somehow wrong, or something. I wonder if parents whose children are living feel odd about buying the second child things the first didn't have. Maybe I should ask some. Then there's the reverse guilt that Noah doesn't get enough of "his own" although I have to admit that unpacking and the selection of a few things have gone a long way to mitigate that.

I don't love the new nursery as much as the old, probably because it's just a bit smaller and more traditional of a room - at our old house the rooms were quirky, but we liked that. But it may just be that I haven't sat in it a lot. It needs a new blind and then I think we'll be in business.

I'm daring to think towards being an actual parent again, in this burst of weight-inspired optimism, nesting hormones, and work winding down (next week is my last, eek). I read up on how to put a newborn-ish baby in the sling (I think we'll wait a little bit for that neck control, but we'll see). So yes, I believe in baby signs - anything that helps with communicating the child's thoughts and feelings is a big bonus to me: hopefully as a parent one's tuned in as well, but there is (especially with boys) that long stage between "grunting/pointing/wailing" and being able to say "owie!"

I was reading a study about how early babies come to recognize symbols - at around 5 months, a baby will try to grab an object in a picture as if it were an object, because to them there's not really a difference (or they'll just try to rip the page and stick it in their mouth :)) but a few months later, they'll point and wait for the word. If you think about it that's a huge cognitive leap, one which for example a cat or a dog will never make. And it happens that soon for a lot of kids. That's the whole theory of baby signs - although that's even more abstract; you're not just signing "cat" (although you can) but also something like "hungry" which is a feeling, not an object. This from a child that had no sense of object permanence a few months earlier. It's just insane, infant development.

Parenting that process seems like a huge responsibility, although the theory is that parents kind of muddle through it for the most part with equal instinct and ease.

Occasionally I worry about Noah's development. He's gotten the shorter end of the nutritional stick - a closely spaced pregnancy; I was nauseous; I was travelling and moving and generally more susceptible to chaos so some days didn't do as well at the healthy food thing (although probably ate higher quality food at the points where we weren't moving, etc.); and of course there's the question of why his weight gain stalled and what he wasn't absorbing during that time. Also, I know a family where they lost a baby (also an Emily) to stillbirth and then their next child was developmentally delayed and for some reason that seems like a forecast, to me.

But then I think of how utterly much I did not care, those two days when I didn't realize Emily was dying but I did realize (gradually) we were probably looking at wheelchairs and grunting and having to work out how to have someone wipe her bum for the rest of her life. I mean, of course I would have cared, eventually, and shed bitter tears, but there was also an odd peace down somewhere which is that - it's not about achievement and it's not even about being able to share the joys of Alligator Pie or William Carlos Williams, as much as I kind of wish for those things.

Having a child is a total wildcard, and at its deepest level it's just about meeting that child. Because of my history and my family and the pushy, coach-like person I can occasionally be, and the way I get highs off being able to "get" things and be smart and move fast and achieve, I worried before that I wouldn't be able to be there for a kid who was different. And although I'm sure I will always have to police myself a bit for the soccer mom thing (although here being multiple is good 'cause other people won't, plus Carl is sort of the polar opposite to that) I did learn about myself that there is a much deeper me below that that really does not give a fuck if my kid will never bring home a single written word, never mind an A.

Because I had this moment in the hospital where I could have disconnected from Emily and I didn't. It was a strange moment, but it was so there - where I could have taken her on as a responsibility and a burden and done the right things on the surface, but where my heart would have closed off to the reality of her. And I/we didn't. It's nothing you can measure or believe from the outside, but I do believe that's one of the differences between a real parent and someone who is merely biologically the parent.

It's hard to explain, and it's all theoretical anyway really. But it mitigates the fear a lot. I really hope that Noah is okay, because it's a different and harder road, especially in our society, for anyone who isn't. But it's not the main thing. And before Emily was born, I worried a lot more about it.

... actually, you know, I've been telling myself that but as I write this I see that it may in fact work both ways at once. Maybe I worry less about how I'll react, like if I would be rejecting or something, because now I know I wouldn't. But maybe the worry is more concrete because - it happened, to my baby. I literally watched her brain (through tests) swell and more of it die than already had.

Well, whatever the reason, I see why parents get obsessed with milestones and charts and the latest research. I lean more that way than any other way, I guess. Baby Signs is my casting a lure into the waters of hope. But I know that if it's doesn't work out that way, that's okay.

It's funny to think/hope that in a few more weeks I will be more obsessed with sleep, poo, and breast milk than anything else and won't have time or energy to worry about these things.

Nesting instincts

This morning Noah woke me up at 5:30, grinding on my cervix and kicking with glee. Whee.

I actually had energy so I got up and did laundry - ours, and the car seat cover and the stroller cover; set up the co-sleeper; finished up the nursery except what Carl has to do (hang a picture and move the crib mattress up to newborn level); cleaned the kitchen; took out the trash; and tidied miscellaneous things.

It's now 10:45. I love days like this. Although there is more to be done, I'm going to spend the rest of my physical energy (unless this sunburst of it continues and I have some left) with a trip to the mall to get my eyebrows etc waxed and some nail polish for my toes and a couple miscellaneous items. And lunch.

I do realize this could be the nesting energy before labour, hence the waxing and nail polish. Have to make the most of this time while it exists, plus I am *really* hoping for some actual pictures this time that don't involve tubes and stuff. And in those I looked like shit but - you know, that was okay, given the circumstances. It's just my vanity at work right now and as I say - why not? I'm hopefully going to be covered in spitup for the next year anyway, and mashed things after that.

(TMI) Something is changing, deep in my body. I'm at the stage where with Emily I kept thinking "is this the mucus plug?" when no, it wasn't, but it was a thicker kind of stuff coming out (aren't you glad for these details) that probably does signal some kind of cervical change moving towards starting to lose the plug and efface and all that. Mind you, with Emily, this was a good 4 weeks before anything spectacular happened, if I remember right. Still, it's a sign: onwards, onwards we go.

So my bag is mostly packed and so's Noah's! And although the car seat cover is drying, at least it's pristinely clean. People could be dispatched to bring it.

Too-fucking-cute nesting

Okay.

I admit I have somehow become a crazed hormonal individual. It must still be relief at this massive weight gain.

Because today I bought - oh I shudder to admit this - okay - Today I Bought, My Confessional

A nursing t-shirt (it has a double layer at the front, the bottom one of which has holes cut out over the boobs, in case you were wondering) that says: Supply.

And a matching onesie that says: Demand!

and they are both powder blue

i have fallen to the dark side

i only meant to buy a nursing bra

Bruiser

My baby is a hurting-me!

He's elbowing and kneeing, I would bet. Whatever it is, he keeps pushing around my navel, really hard. I push him back and he withdraws. Then at some random interval of seconds later, he pushes again. Hello, boy-child, the exit is down...

... except please don't start this there!

Now that I know he's fundamentally okay, this is amusing again and not causing me to worry he's burning too many calories or something.

Having a child is so intimate. I don't understand sexually abusing kids - I really don't, because although I can appreciate the beauty of children and even marvel at the way, at some ages, they flirt and preen and test their skills out on you, I never really find it hits any of my lust buttons - and it is always a profound relief to me that I don't. But I can see why there is a sort of physical bond between parent and child, particularly I guess, mother and child. This kid is inside me, all of him, and then he will come out and nurse, and we will spend hours skin to skin and I'll learn every inch of him. And for years it will be that way.

And then he'll withdraw, get more independent - and it will be my job (shared with his father) to back off and teach him boundaries. Good ones. Respecting women's privacy ones, and all kinds. Eventually he will hide from me in his own adolescent shame and the idea of me having sex with his father (or anyone) will revolt him and although I hope I will remember to wish for him an amazing sex life (that is respectful and loving as well) I imagine that the idea of him having sex will on some level disturb me as well. And his body will be a mystery again, because I won't have seen the changes in the same way.

And for now he plays with the insides of me. And apparently, the scent of our shared amniotic fluid on his hands will act as a guide for him coming out, reminding him of the scent of me and helping him to root for my breast (although we are not planning to make him make the journey all on his own, oh no). And then we'll start the dance of food and comfort, combined with separation and exploration.

It's mindbending.

Little porker

That's what we're calling Noah now despite his being in the 30th percentile, because that was an impressive weight gain. I suppose I can lay off the protein powder a bit now. It'll be nice to taste milk and not milk/soy/weird again. :)

I think I'd underestimated how braced we all were for Something Awful to occur, because most of yesterday I felt almost high on the prospect of not having to go through a NICU experience. Today I'm crashing slightly and I'm rather glad that tomorrow is not a work day (at least not officially; I'd better do a few things from home or next week will be awful).

Of course now the panic over labour can begin. I mostly packed my bag last night - all the necessities, but none of the kind of accessories like the iPod and that kind of thing. I called to register for a hospital tour, which we should have done already but hey. I had to leave a voicemail, so we'll see what happens there. We know where to show up anyway, which is the important part. :-)

I also called to see if we could register for an infant & child CPR class on Aug. 18. Why not? It's been years since I was certified in anything and although I brushed up on it before having Emily by rereading my old stuff, I am sure things have changed. I was sure then too but never actually got into a class. Once again I got voicemail so we'll see if the trend of full classes continues. It may be a bad idea to go into a class about how to preserve breath, but we'll see.

Carl replaced light switches and outlets galore and we're both fussing about the house now. I'd say that subdued panic is about the right phrase. 3 weeks! 3 weeks! When did that happen?? I was so focused on eating that I seem to have missed how close we are to due. And I don't think they'll let us go past due (if we made it; no female in my family has ever made it past the due date). This panic was not eased by a series of Braxton-Hicks last night that lasted almost 3 hours. The nice thing about having been through labour once though is not having to worry if they're "real" contractions. Real contractions hurt. A lot. :)

The bad part is knowing what's coming. I really do wonder how we'll manage. Sometimes you know you're going to be triggered and tramatized all to fuck and none of the tricks are going to work in the slightest. This is one of those times. Pain is increased by stress (oh joy); we're kind of waffling on the epidural that really helped with the physical-trauma aspects of the last time. Both those things probably mean that this time, it will hurt more. Which is making me wince.

The epidural thing is a hard one. It did really help us, as people who've been badly raped, to calm down and be present. But it slowed labour down and may have been a factor in our being able to continue *too* long.

All the predictions (except for Noah's head measurements) are that our second labour should be fast, and so why have the epidural and slow things down (says my granola-leaning nurse)? And aren't we going to be a wreck anyway, and a fast wreck might be better than a slower less-painful wreck? And, you know, maybe it will be the magical change that makes Noah come out okay. Plus real women don't use epidurals.

On the other hand, I may have forgotten some of the specifics of the pain but I very clearly remember how overwhelming it was - and we were actually in a pretty good headspace. In the headspace we'll be in remembering Emily's labour, I dunno.

So we'll decide along with Carl at the time, I guess. But I'm sort of stumped in a catch-22 on this one. At least the c-section decision is made: yes, if there's a medical reason or if pushing isn't going that well. No otherwise.

Lyria went to therapy yesterday (last session before the baby I would guess, since Anna's on holidays for the next few weeks) and cried the whole time. That was a pretty major breakthrough on the grief front. Everyone grieves at his or her own pace is true enough and when it comes to Lyria, she's been sort of in the same place for a long time. We all have our up and down times but she's felt kind of stuck. So movement is good. It's something that is a big loss in our system, that Lyr hasn't been quite as involved in this pregnancy. And once we're on baby time it would be really nice to have her around: she isn't as scheduled as many of us and that I think is a boon in those days when you just have to go with the flow.

But mostly it's being glad she's getting some support, for her own self. But this is the baby blog!

The baby is squirming today, not so many kicks. A lot of what I interpret as hand movements down low, feeling his way around. Oh kid, there's so much great stuff out here to handle and kick, and you're almost ready to come see. Hope you're not too squashed in there.

Shandra

Good news day

Well. Perhaps it was the meditation, after all.

Noah made it to the 30th percentile with a lovely weight of 2580 grams or - drum roll - 5 lbs 11 oz! I'd gained 3 lbs in the last week (!!!) 2 of which could conceivably pretty much belong to him. He's pretty much in the clear now, whenever he's born. He may never see the inside of a NICU. Let's hope not.

That's only one lb less than Emily was at birth.

Score!

As usual heartbeat, breathing, movements, blood flow through cord, all fine fine fine. The technician, who sort of knows me now, showed me Noah's neck from all perspectives she could get to demonstrate how there is no cord anywhere about it in any direction at all. That was really thoughtful, esp. as she had a full roster. I felt very cared for. And it did make a huge difference.

I feel high on the news. Or I did. Until my obstetrician gave me a form and said "well, you could go into labour any time now, so carry this with you wherever you go."

ERK. That's a bit too real!

Shandra

More of a real entry

Or not, depending how long my momentarily energized mood lasts. I'm trying to keep sitting upright for an hour after finishing dinner, because that helps with heartburn. Oh yes, pregnancy is such a physical process.

So Noah and I have been playing the Kegel game for much of the day! When I do the Kegel pelvic floor muscle exercises, it squeezes him, because he's riding low today, and then he squirms and kicks me while I try to continue to do the Kegels. Perhaps when he is 21 I'll bring this up, but until then I'm afraid it might impact on his sexual development. :)

It is kind of mind bending to have a boy inside me. I mean obviously that's where boys come from, but for some reason it seemed to make more sense to have a girl inside. I don't know why. Some strange little prejudice lurking back in there. But I've come to enjoy the whole idea of it, somehow. Tomorrow we see him on the ultrasound tv again and hopefully get some good weight numbers. If they're pitiful then life may change rather quickly. At least I got some laundry done.

I've also been having more and more Braxton-Hicks and there are other signs we're moving towards labour, slowly. If I remember right, with Emily, this is where I started to worry a lot about mucus plugs and amniotic fluid. Now I sort of think we have that bit down - not only have I seen a mucus plug but I know that amniotic fluid is not the same as being a bit wet. It's funny to be informed and still completely flipped out. One thing I think about a lot is that we never really had the early labour stage with Emily - either I slept through it or it was confused with the stomach flu I had or I just didn't have it. So might I have it this time? How stressful would that be?

I don't think too hard about the end of labour. First because in order to continue to propagate the species I think it's important to forget. But also because that inevitably leads to that fresh grief about Emily. It's entirely predictable, but still a lot to experience, that all this just makes that fresher and worse. It will be interesting to be stuck between that and the baby blues and, hopefully, the joy and terror of a live child, all at once. Maybe it's not such a bad thing to be forced to slow down and rest now.

For now, it's just hard not to talk about Emily a lot. A lot. I'm sure if I gave in all the time I would start to sound really - repetitive, with a touch of drama. But not only am I - are we - still spinning to process a lot of that, especially as feelings come through our body that are so similar, but there's this determination underneath that she not be forgotten. A lot of people have been playing along with - for? - us, that this is a normal sort-of first pregnancy. And that is a gift of its own kind: the gift of space. But sometimes it oppresses me and I insert Emily's name into the conversation or I talk about the last time. Don't forget her, my baby girl.

Then my guilt goes the other way and I think I should be thinking about Noah! What if all this grief and stress is what's affecting our weight gain?

I even resorted to meditation on the theme of "grow, my child, grow." Since I don't meditate much, it was fairly pathetic, but perhaps the trying counts.

I've also begun re-reading parent books like mad - the Mother of All Baby Books and Dr. Spock and I have flipped through "What to Expect in the First Year." Hope, I suppose, or sheer fear. I only bathed Emily after she was gone; how do you manage it when they're wriggling? How will I know everything's okay? I'd like all the answers please, preferably with a cheat sheet and some bullet points.

I get the feeling that it will be like this for - oh - ever: please let the things I can't control be okay followed by please let me be good enough at the things I can and help me out here 'cause I sure can't always fucking tell the difference.

Energy

This isn't nursery part two, oh no. I did in fact do a few minor things in the nursery yesterday but mostly I laid in bed.

Because I had no energy. Going to the grocery store exhausted me. This was a downward trend from Thursday and made me Very Grumpy. Today I'm trying work but I'm not convinced I'll be able to walk down to the train and up the stairs and onto it - yesterday felt that extreme. But if it's too rotten Carl will come get me, so that's a good.

Let this be a lesson to you all: space your pregnancies out. That's the consensus on why the low energy levels this pregnancy, at least so far (I'll bring this last spate up tomorrow). That and/or stress.

Noah's been quite active, though: reassuring and good.

Shandra

Nursery part one

So yesterday we started in on the nursery. Carl took the first swing at it, setting up the crib and moving furniture around until he found an arrangement he thought would work, which includes room for the change table once we retrieve it.

Afterwards he played a video game for over an hour and said to me he didn't know how I managed to pack everything up. Well my trick was pretty simple: I had big rubbermaid-type chests and I just placed things in quickly while loud music played in the background. But - yeah.

I took the second shift and started with the aforementioned big chests: one for clothes and one for blankets and towels and crib sheets, as we were given large quantities of all of the above (thanks to a set of twins in the family, I actually have *20* crib sheets. I would give some away but the parents of the twins are pregnant again, so I'll be giving some back anyways).

I also took a smaller container to sort out anything too girly (to save on stranger/acquaintance confusion), or anything that I felt was special to Emily. As it turned out I'd done a good special-to-Emily sort already and so really there was only the pink consideration. After some discussion within the system flowers were deemed okay for anything under 6 months.

It turns out (and I really couldn't remember) that the vast majority of baby things we have are white or yellow and so will do fine. It was hard, touching all the clothes again, smelling them to be sure they weren't musty, seeing how I'd cut a lot of the tags out so they wouldn't itch. It felt at times like I was dooming Noah to Emily's fate, by allowing preparations to take place. I understand cultures that don't do that, now, although I really hope those cultures also help new mothers cope with bringing in a layette while they're post-partum.

I felt caught between past and future, which I guess would have made it the present. I only held one outfit up to my belly though, and that was enough. Right now they're mostly just *stuff*.

An odd thing is because Emily was born in March and her shower was in January, most of her things ended up being heavier, except the ubiquitous diaper shirts. I remember that at the time I thought "hmm, probably we'll end up buying 3-6 month old outfits because we'll want summer weight." But now because Noah's due Sept 1, it's entirely possible that he will fit those when it's fall and be in the right season.

I have to say again that the generosity of our friends and family was simply overwhelming. I mean here we are completely stocked for our baby and when I looked through what I had specifically bought myself, it came to about three outfits. It's amazing.

Today I intend to get the bookshelves on the bookcase and the other stuff - books, toys, manuals, nail clippers, etc - arranged. Then we'll see what it looks like. The nursery at our old house was a little bigger and airier, but then it was kind of deathly still for so many months. This one so far feels a bit crowded (but that may be the continued presence of boxes &c.) but it's still got a kind of sense that there have been children there.

One thing that bothers me and I want to change is that the family before us put a knob with a lock lock on the closet door - facing out, so you could lock your child into the closet. The fact that the inside of the door has kicked-in dent marks in it supports the thesis that this actually happened. I hate that; I can't believe someone went out and got a knob with a lock on it and installed it just to lock their kid in a closet - fuckers. That knob has to go. That is not how things work in our house, and this is our house now.

Shandra

Maternity in the age of retail

Finances are tight here at the Lemarath household: nothing overly horrendous - an overtime slip not turned in on time, a bank error, and the aftermath of moving in. We're moving swifty to our tighter budget, and for the most part it doesn't feel like chains but more like a comfortable old pair of jeans that's just a little bit tight and rather stiff.

Except a little, this week. I had this list from the hospital of everything that needs to be packed into a bag for rushing down to Labour & Delivery (and now I know how important those things are and everyone, when they say heavy-duty pads, do believe them. And treat yourself to a new fresh toothbrush and some mouthwash, trust me.) I also had a list of three things for the baby, and I was in a mood where I had to ensure all these things were available just in case, you know, I went into labour.

(Last night I woke up and my breasts were burning hot and tingling and my genital region was hot and swollen and I felt like I could feel my cervix. Definitely some kind of hormone cocktail was being delivered. I wondered, as I peed, if this was the start of labour, since I never really had that stage last time. And then - this is the sign of a veteran - I rushed back to bed to get as much sleep as possible, in case it was.) (Obviously it was not.)

So the baby's list was:

a) a nasal aspirator, something we somehow never acquired for Emily
b) an Angelcare monitor that goes under the crib mattress (and will hopefully work under the cosleeper mattress pad) and goes off if the breathing movements stop. I thought this was overkill the first time, until I held my baby until she stopped breathing, forever. This time I really don't care if it goes off on false alarms, as long as it goes off for anything real
c) two change pads, the curved kind with belts on them. I decided to get one for each floor and set up a change station on each, in case of extreme sleep deprivation or totally intriguing DVD. We had one for Emily but we used it for her coffin

I started at Sears and the Bay, pricing things out. The monitor I bought at Sears: they were having a 30% off sale on everything safety-related. The woman there asked me if I would like to start a baby registry. "No - no," I said, trying to make it clear that this was not some minor hesitation. Last time I registered at the Bay, and gifts kept arriving after Emily died due to some internal shipping thing, and worse, they kept calling to let us know we could complete our registry on sale for months afterwards and I never did find a way to call them back and say look: she died, she doesn't fucking need your crap all right?. I cannot possibly face another baby registry ever.

Besides, my list only had three things on it.

All that flashing before me, and the woman kept arguing with me "it's really great, and you're entered to win everything on your registry and blah blah blah." I contemplated dropping my baby registry story on her to just shut her up, but I have vowed not to use real pain that way - plus she was just doing her job - so I just kept saying NO.

It made me glad we're so well equipped. I can't imagine having to shop for everything this way.

But then I crossed to the dark side. Everything was so expensive everywhere. And lurking down at the end of the mall was the great evil eye: Wal-Mart. I knew that it had everything else on my list and at low to reasonable prices.

So I went. And there I got the change pads and the aspirator and all the post-partum stuff for me. And it was cheap. And it was simple. And I enjoyed it.

It's a slippery slope, but I'm not even sorry.

Shandra

Horoscopes & drive bys

The universe is sending me messages.

First, on the GO train this morning I was consuming a decaff coffee as a treat for making it out the door at all, and I had a mummy drive by! This woman said to me "caffeine is not good for your baby!" and I said "that's why this is decaff, thanks."

Not a very appreciated message.

Second, this, from Free Will Astrology:

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): You've probably heard tales about
people who buy an old desk at a thrift store or a used jacket at a yard sale,
then find a big stash of money in it when they get it home. You may also know
the story of author Byron Katie, who was wallowing in depression on the floor of
a halfway house when she had the epiphany that ultimately transformed her
into a brilliant, rich, successful teacher. I believe your fate in the
coming weeks will have elements of both of those motifs.

I really hope this is about the babe being okay, although as with most horoscopes, who knows. I mean if this baby dies perhaps I'll finish my novel before slitting my wrists. If you attack Persia you will destroy a great empire, indeed.

That's mostly a joke, but I'm not sure how I would make it through another late-term loss. I know infertile couples go through multiple losses even at late terms but I'm just not sure how they do and I'm very sure I don't want to know. Grief at a first-trimester miscarriage is definitely strong and valid, but I admit they never felt to me at all like losing Emily did, or at this point losing Noah would. I am not dicksizing pain; if you've miscarried it sucks.

It's just that for me the loss of Emily is in a different category, somehow. And I imagine that losing a child later on in that child's life is also in a different category.

So since yesterday I have been a little stressed out, because it seems like things aren't improving, at least not in the practical day to day details. Weight is still a problem; it still could be the placenta and if so that's not good; the way to avoid stillbirth is to track movement. I do feel a bit like I'm on the floor wallowing in anxiety. I feel that rather useless why me? why can't this one be easy? in the back of my mind. And yet, as problems go, this one is not huge, especially not at this point. This is not MRI results at Sick Kids. It's not ultrasounds showing big problems.

It's just something to keep watch on.

But the watching is hard. I'm worn out, really, from everything. And scared, of course.

I had a long labour dream two nights ago where I was pushing. God, my body remembers everything that's ever happened to it. I had the sensations of pushing again; I could feel those muscles again, and Emily's head. You'd think that I'd've learned this lesson in therapy as a survivor, with 20+ year old pain coming up and shooting through our body, but it still catches me - as it evolutionarily probably should - by surprise. In the dream though, there was no baby afterwards. Instead the hospital tried to send my home with a cat. And when I woke up there was all that loss of Emily again; my breasts ached.

I'd like them to ache for different reasons this time, that's all. If that's the gold in all this dross, hey. I'll have nothing - well little - to complain about.

Appointments

So the birth plan is a-ok, which is good. One document down; a zillion to go. Maternity leave paperwork, baby paperwork, insurance paperwork (for the semi-priv room), whee.

Bad news: despite consuming 3000+ calories a day most days in the last 14 I have gained 1 lb. ONE POUND. I have another ultrasound next Tuesday and there is a fair amount of concern going on, but not to panic levels yet. I do have to be extra-vigilant still about activity (maybe that is burning the calories). Noah was clearly active yesterday and some this morning, so I'm not too worried at the moment, for a change.

Other than that it was business as usual.