I didn't sleep well after the events of the night before.
I really hadn't planned on sleeping, actually.
We were "taking a break" which, in hindsight, was probably Jill's kind way of letting me down easy.
But deep down, I knew we were done with homebirthing.
I'd thought then, that night, that I'd truly never been more exhausted but I would prove myself wrong.
The day of your birth, that morning when I officially woke, it was then that I'd never been more exhausted.
I hadn't eaten in over 12 hours at this point so I was physically drained and mentally, I'd shut down a bit.
I was almost despondent.
So very disappointed.
And while I knew I'd be having a baby later in the day, I had a whole different take on how things would go.
Since I woke up without any contractions, my plan was to make a leisurely appearance at the hospital.
Because I was so tired and would be in the hospital anyway, I now planned on a medicated birth.
(There is no shame in a medicated birth, in my opinion. Unless you are the woman currently feeling like your insides are being set on fire and twisted up like scrap metal, I say "shut yer piehole." Luxie, you do what you want when it comes to this and don't let anyone persuade you one way or another. I'll always give you my take on the matter since I've now done it both ways but there are pros and cons to each. More than anything else, I say "stay away from Nazi nurses." In fact, I will gladly help you in this matter! BUT, if you would like to know, I'd choose natural. Surprised?)
I woke Daddy up around 7:30am.
I'd slept so badly that I could've woken him at 5:00, 5:20, 5:45, 6:10, or any twenty minute period after that.
But I wanted to make a game plan for the day and this seemed like a less cruel hour than the ones previously mentioned.
I had no idea that the midwives had stayed overnight.
They slept on our couches and it's still strange to me that I never thought about where they went or what they were doing after leaving my bedroom the night before.
I guess it makes sense that they would be there but still.
I was sort of thrown by that but immensely happy that they were near.
I never truly believed that either of us were in any harm, I know I keep saying that.
But I should admit that I was very uncomfortable the night before and was worried about you being stressed from all the laboring activity.
At one point, your hair could been seen from my birthing position so I know it just must've been wild for you, too.
The in and out, and starting and stopping, the strange hands in your private space.
I wanted to hear your heartbeat.
I knew Jill had the Doppler in her bag and I just wanted to hear you.
And then I could get on with my day.
When Daddy woke up, he asked me what I wanted to do.
I said that I knew we should go to the hospital at that point.
What else could be done?
He went to get Jill.
Jill came up and we talked for a bit in my bed.
She knew I was disappointed and tired but I think there was another emotion coursing through me and it was this woman-on-the-verge thing.
I was hanging on by a thread.
What I wanted to do was spend the day in my bed moping and feeling sorry for myself.
And sleeping.
God, I need sleep so badly that morning.
I wanted to be left completely alone--I didn't even want Daddy around.
I needed time to sort of recover from the whole everything-but-nothing from the day before.
But I knew I was totally out of time.
Jill and Abby were both in support of me leaving home and having you in the hospital, the sooner, the better, since now we'd opened us up to infection.
I know this because I pushed the issue one last time.
But THIS time it was YOUR choosing!
When Jill and I were first speaking, she asked how I was feeling and I told her all that I just wrote here.
And then I said, "And last night I was having all those contractions and today--nothing."
Because it was true.
I wasn't having any contractions that morning.
It was like the events of the night before were already a distant memory to my uterus.
I moved from my bed into the bathroom and I started pulling things out for my hospital bag.
I wasn't crying but I was just...quiet.
Tired.
Sad.
Dreading the day.
Isn't that strange to say?
And it's not that I dreaded your birth--that was the only bright spot in all of it.
But I did not want to go to the hospital in my condition.
I did not want to be the homebirth-gone-bad.
I did not want to be harassed about my water being broken.
(And now that time has passed, I can say it: I lied to them about the timing of that. I think I shaved off, oh, a DAY because I absolutely KNEW they'd totally flip out.)
I did not want to be in the hospital environment, didn't want to stay there, didn't want to leave your siblings, didn't want to, didn't want to, didn't want to.
Jill listened to me and then she planted the seed of all seeds:
"Angi, no one can MAKE you stay in the hospital."
I'm sorry, what?
No one can MAKE me?
I looked at her.
"What will happen if I leave?"
"You will have to sign papers taking full responsibility for yourself and your baby. And they won't like it one bit. It's not done often but it CAN be done."
I didn't make my decision right then and there to leave but I was super happy she tucked that bit of info into what was left of my brain because I would later need it.
I can recall the EXACT moment when I made the decision to walk "against medical advice" and it wasn't until after you'd arrived.
I was treated precisely how I thought I'd have been treated by my labor and delivery nurse and the doctor in charge of your birth.
But when that treatment extended to YOU, we were out of there.
(I'll tell you more later. I'm getting ahead of myself!)
Jill and Daddy and I discussed hospital choices.
She preferred us going to Grant but I was definitely hesitant.
We have a terrific surburban hospital about three minutes from us with a gorgeous maternity wing and all kinds of bells and whistles.
Plus I'd already delivered there twice (Chas and Creux) so that's where I wanted to go.
But Jill and Abby were more comfortable dealing with the staff at Grant as this was where they typically took their patients who needed "help".
Grant, however, is inner city.
Like people go there for gun-shot wounds from bar-room brawls.
It was not giving me the warm and fuzzy, to say the least.
They left the decision up to me and I pushed it back on Daddy.
He felt like they would know better in this situation so I went with it.
(I do not regret this decision and believe that while I MIGHT have received slightly better care in the beginning, I would have faced a much bigger battle getting us out of there if we were at St. Ann's.)
Jill left to make the call to Grant to alert them that we were coming in.
I wanted a shower, even though I'd showered the night before.
Really, I think I needed an excuse for alone time.
I needed to pull myself together emotionally, at least the bare minimum.
I'd already planned to help myself out physically with the epidural so I figured I was good there.
But I needed some time to come to terms with everything that had happened and was about to happen.
I needed to find some strength to at least get me to the hospital.
I was so very, very tired.
I had no idea that everything was seconds away from changing yet again.
There would be no rest for me.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
You--11 Weeks, 3 Days
Luxe,
You are THE MOST STUBBORN baby we've had.
And I know you hate it but you MUST make peace with your car seat because I feel like a child abuser whenever we go somewhere.
I just keep thinking about how it must not make any sense to you that I won't come and stop your crying.
I know you only want picked up.
But I'm driving, child!
When you start, you do not give in until you get what you want.
Your father says you get that from me.
He's right.
But it IS annoying to be on the receiving side of such...determination.
If you start crying in the driveway, you will continue crying until we reach our destination and by then you're practically hyper-ventilating.
And SO AM I.
I don't understand this!
I make sure you're fed and clean before we go anywhere.
You are surrounded by siblings--you face the Littles since you sit backwards and you'd think those two monkeys would be entertaining but nope.
And Rhyse and Chas sit next to you.
But your wailing is just out of control.
PLEASE stop.
It's horrible for both of us and I feel like a need a valium just to get to the grocery and back.
You're digging your heels in over the stupid swing, too.
As it turns out, you really do not want to sleep anywhere else.
And also as it turns out, if I can't make it happen then you won't sleep--you will only doze for about 15-20 minutes in my arms.
By the time I finally get us back home, you're overly tired and you are mean!
Yowling at me from across the room, yowling at me while I carry you, yowling at me while I bounce and snuggle and even sometimes feed.
You'll break your suction to yowl some more just as a reminder to me how pissed you are.
I GET IT.
But we have things to do!
And you, the fifth baby, are supposed to think the car is your napping place, not a torture chamber!
You're supposed to be happy sleeping on the run.
And yet.
You.
Are.
Not.
Bummer.
You giggled finally.
We were in the car last week and Chas was talking about how you giggled and Daddy was shaking his head when I asked him.
"Did she? Oh my gosh, did she? I MISSED IT?"
No, no, no, he kept assuring me.
But I think you giggled for them first and he just won't tell me for fear of some massive hormonal meltdown-y sobfest.
It doesn't matter though because right after that I made you laugh and you totally chuckled briefly.
Not a full belly cackle yet but it's progress.
You also totally barfed in Chas's face the other day and I almost peed my pants from laughing so hard.
He sneaks into our nest in the mornings after I feed you and he picks you up and plays with you.
Makes you fly, makes you bounce, makes you smile.
And also makes you barf :)
I was sorting clothes in my closet (what to wear, WHAT TO WEAR?) when I heard the worst sound emerge from your tiny little body.
It was a... man belch.
I don't know how it escaped from bitty little you but it was impressive.
And I looked up to see Chas with his eyes squished closed, his mouth smashed tight....and lots of curdy breastmilk dripping down his lips and chin.
He was holding you and you were standing, just looking at him curiously.
I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe--it was great fun!
Thanks for that :)
(Though Chas, he's a tad more careful with just-fed-You these days. Haha.)
You're 11 pounds.
I took the Littles in for check-ups and snuck you onto the scale.
11 pounds.
Almost double your birth weight.
I like slightly pudgy You.
We pinch your inner thigh rolls, tug at the second chin you've developed, kiss your round squishy cheeks.
When you were first born, you reminded me of a wee baby bird.
But now you're like a goose.
Not quite a Christmas goose but on your way.
My favorite thing right now?
When you're nursing and I'm talking to you, sometimes you smile while trying to eat.
Suck, suck, suck, pause....GRIN....suck, suck, suck.
I love that.
And I'll tell you it sure as hell beats your yowling at me!
Tomorrow you're going to need your Big Girl Panties, Luxe, as it's co-op day-- followed by two soccer games and a dance class.
I apologize in advance for the nervous breakdown that you're going to have around 4:00pm, followed by mine at 4:45.
It's bad for you, worse for me.
We will snuggle in November, I promise.
The cold weather will come, our obligations will wind down, and me and you--we're going to hibernate and have long lazy nursings back in our nest.
It's a date.
(And I can't wait!)
Love,
Mama
You are THE MOST STUBBORN baby we've had.
And I know you hate it but you MUST make peace with your car seat because I feel like a child abuser whenever we go somewhere.
I just keep thinking about how it must not make any sense to you that I won't come and stop your crying.
I know you only want picked up.
But I'm driving, child!
When you start, you do not give in until you get what you want.
Your father says you get that from me.
He's right.
But it IS annoying to be on the receiving side of such...determination.
If you start crying in the driveway, you will continue crying until we reach our destination and by then you're practically hyper-ventilating.
And SO AM I.
I don't understand this!
I make sure you're fed and clean before we go anywhere.
You are surrounded by siblings--you face the Littles since you sit backwards and you'd think those two monkeys would be entertaining but nope.
And Rhyse and Chas sit next to you.
But your wailing is just out of control.
PLEASE stop.
It's horrible for both of us and I feel like a need a valium just to get to the grocery and back.
You're digging your heels in over the stupid swing, too.
As it turns out, you really do not want to sleep anywhere else.
And also as it turns out, if I can't make it happen then you won't sleep--you will only doze for about 15-20 minutes in my arms.
By the time I finally get us back home, you're overly tired and you are mean!
Yowling at me from across the room, yowling at me while I carry you, yowling at me while I bounce and snuggle and even sometimes feed.
You'll break your suction to yowl some more just as a reminder to me how pissed you are.
I GET IT.
But we have things to do!
And you, the fifth baby, are supposed to think the car is your napping place, not a torture chamber!
You're supposed to be happy sleeping on the run.
And yet.
You.
Are.
Not.
Bummer.
You giggled finally.
We were in the car last week and Chas was talking about how you giggled and Daddy was shaking his head when I asked him.
"Did she? Oh my gosh, did she? I MISSED IT?"
No, no, no, he kept assuring me.
But I think you giggled for them first and he just won't tell me for fear of some massive hormonal meltdown-y sobfest.
It doesn't matter though because right after that I made you laugh and you totally chuckled briefly.
Not a full belly cackle yet but it's progress.
You also totally barfed in Chas's face the other day and I almost peed my pants from laughing so hard.
He sneaks into our nest in the mornings after I feed you and he picks you up and plays with you.
Makes you fly, makes you bounce, makes you smile.
And also makes you barf :)
I was sorting clothes in my closet (what to wear, WHAT TO WEAR?) when I heard the worst sound emerge from your tiny little body.
It was a... man belch.
I don't know how it escaped from bitty little you but it was impressive.
And I looked up to see Chas with his eyes squished closed, his mouth smashed tight....and lots of curdy breastmilk dripping down his lips and chin.
He was holding you and you were standing, just looking at him curiously.
I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe--it was great fun!
Thanks for that :)
(Though Chas, he's a tad more careful with just-fed-You these days. Haha.)
You're 11 pounds.
I took the Littles in for check-ups and snuck you onto the scale.
11 pounds.
Almost double your birth weight.
I like slightly pudgy You.
We pinch your inner thigh rolls, tug at the second chin you've developed, kiss your round squishy cheeks.
When you were first born, you reminded me of a wee baby bird.
But now you're like a goose.
Not quite a Christmas goose but on your way.
My favorite thing right now?
When you're nursing and I'm talking to you, sometimes you smile while trying to eat.
Suck, suck, suck, pause....GRIN....suck, suck, suck.
I love that.
And I'll tell you it sure as hell beats your yowling at me!
Tomorrow you're going to need your Big Girl Panties, Luxe, as it's co-op day-- followed by two soccer games and a dance class.
I apologize in advance for the nervous breakdown that you're going to have around 4:00pm, followed by mine at 4:45.
It's bad for you, worse for me.
We will snuggle in November, I promise.
The cold weather will come, our obligations will wind down, and me and you--we're going to hibernate and have long lazy nursings back in our nest.
It's a date.
(And I can't wait!)
Love,
Mama
Monday, September 13, 2010
You--10 Weeks
I've had mass amounts of anxiety over my non-posting for you.
I swore I'd do better, posting shorter yet more frequently and I was doing so good there for a bit but MAN.
It's hard to take care of you AND write to you!
I'm wiped by the end of the days and it's all I can do to toss up a few cute shots of you and your sibs over on my other blog.
Life has taken a tremendous turn for crazy.
Luxie, you are the bestest baby ever and I mean that sincerely.
Ever since the start of the month, I have dragged you from place to place.
I can't get past it, can't get around it.
We no longer cuddle in my bed for late mornings or afternoon naps--there simply is no time.
I took one nap with you recently, on the first Thursday that we started back to co-op, and I'm not even sure I'd call it a nap.
A mid-day, short-term COMA might be more accurate.
So let me catch you up on you really quickly and then I need to get showered.
I can only shower at night right now while you're sleeping in your swing as my days are too busy and I'm NOT getting up early.
--Your eyelashes are fully in. I noticed this today and took some photos.
Yes, of your eyelashes.
--Luxe, you HATE your carseat and I can't fix this for you. I never ever expected you to dislike that thing so much but if I found a needle buried in the back of it, it would make total sense to me. You sit backwards smack dab in the middle of our car, surrounded by siblings (two facing you, two beside you) and it does not make a damn bit of difference. If you set that thing on fire once you're able to walk, I will totally understand.
--Your swing is where you like to sleep and I don't like this at all. Wasn't I just saying how important I felt it was to shelter you from the noise and chaos downstairs? You're now up in the mornings around 8:30-9:00 and you'll stay awake for an hour or so. We'll cruise the downstairs together, cleaning up the kitchen or doing schoolwork. Then you'll drift off in my arms and I'll sneak you into bed but you never sleep long there.
If we're home (which we aren't), I'll wait until Creux heads down for his nap so it's nice and quiet and then pop you into the swing where you'd happily sleep for DAYS if I let you.
--Your hair is coming in more. Strawberry blonde?
--No giggles yet but tons of smiles and my fave coos. We talk. A LOT.
We're girls, we do that.
--Almost all of your newborn clothing has been packed away. Just a few sleeping gowns are all that's left.
--This is what people say when they first meet you:
"She looks just like the rest of them, doesn't she?"
"Oh my goodness, she looks EXACTLY like her big sister!" (You do. It's uncanny.)
"She's so tiny! How much did she weigh when she was born?"
That last one is so strange to me because I think you're huge! You're nice and solid in my arms, you have two chins and some really cute rolls down by your girly bits. No cellulite yet (I keep checking cause I adore baby cellulite) but we're working on it. Not sure how much you weigh but am guessing somewhere in the 9-10 pound range.
--I've left you several times already. Last week I had to get my hair done and I was a nervous wreck, terrified that you'd wake and need me and that I'd be out in Granville having my fall low-lights put in my hair.
I walked in and said, "I don't have long today. If my sitter calls, I'm walking out with wet, uncut hair if I need to so LET'S MOVE IT!" Because I really didn't need uncut hair. I'd gone almost three long months without any diva maintenancing and BOY did I need it.
--You're just so different these days. You're a big girl, two and a half months old. No more newborny stuff, even sleep-wise--no more. No sleeping on my tummy, no more totally sporadic feeds (you can go three hours now and most times you do), no more baby coma, no more just...newness. You're established somewhat and you've acclimated yourself here just fine. You tolerate the noise pretty well, not even freaking out when someone goes running past you shrieking over someone taking something of theirs. Of course, you've been listening to that crap ever since you were a twinkle in my eye so maybe that's not so surprising.
--I bought THE CUTEST Halloween get-up for you. Not a costume, a...frock. With tulle and glitter and sparkles. Halloween should be every day for you.
You're just a delight.
I love you madly and even on the short runs that I do while you're sleeping...I can't wait to get back to you.
When you sleep long, I can't wait for you to wake so I can kiss and cuddle you a bit.
I miss you in my sleep so I dream about you.
I. Am. Smitten.
Happy 10 weeks to you.
Love,
Mama
P.S. I will do better posting. Again. This is a long-term project at this point, I see no reason not to continue to write to you so...I'm in for the haul. I just need the days to be 30 hours instead of 24. I could do so much with those extra six hours, you have no idea....
I swore I'd do better, posting shorter yet more frequently and I was doing so good there for a bit but MAN.
It's hard to take care of you AND write to you!
I'm wiped by the end of the days and it's all I can do to toss up a few cute shots of you and your sibs over on my other blog.
Life has taken a tremendous turn for crazy.
Luxie, you are the bestest baby ever and I mean that sincerely.
Ever since the start of the month, I have dragged you from place to place.
I can't get past it, can't get around it.
We no longer cuddle in my bed for late mornings or afternoon naps--there simply is no time.
I took one nap with you recently, on the first Thursday that we started back to co-op, and I'm not even sure I'd call it a nap.
A mid-day, short-term COMA might be more accurate.
So let me catch you up on you really quickly and then I need to get showered.
I can only shower at night right now while you're sleeping in your swing as my days are too busy and I'm NOT getting up early.
--Your eyelashes are fully in. I noticed this today and took some photos.
Yes, of your eyelashes.
--Luxe, you HATE your carseat and I can't fix this for you. I never ever expected you to dislike that thing so much but if I found a needle buried in the back of it, it would make total sense to me. You sit backwards smack dab in the middle of our car, surrounded by siblings (two facing you, two beside you) and it does not make a damn bit of difference. If you set that thing on fire once you're able to walk, I will totally understand.
--Your swing is where you like to sleep and I don't like this at all. Wasn't I just saying how important I felt it was to shelter you from the noise and chaos downstairs? You're now up in the mornings around 8:30-9:00 and you'll stay awake for an hour or so. We'll cruise the downstairs together, cleaning up the kitchen or doing schoolwork. Then you'll drift off in my arms and I'll sneak you into bed but you never sleep long there.
If we're home (which we aren't), I'll wait until Creux heads down for his nap so it's nice and quiet and then pop you into the swing where you'd happily sleep for DAYS if I let you.
--Your hair is coming in more. Strawberry blonde?
--No giggles yet but tons of smiles and my fave coos. We talk. A LOT.
We're girls, we do that.
--Almost all of your newborn clothing has been packed away. Just a few sleeping gowns are all that's left.
--This is what people say when they first meet you:
"She looks just like the rest of them, doesn't she?"
"Oh my goodness, she looks EXACTLY like her big sister!" (You do. It's uncanny.)
"She's so tiny! How much did she weigh when she was born?"
That last one is so strange to me because I think you're huge! You're nice and solid in my arms, you have two chins and some really cute rolls down by your girly bits. No cellulite yet (I keep checking cause I adore baby cellulite) but we're working on it. Not sure how much you weigh but am guessing somewhere in the 9-10 pound range.
--I've left you several times already. Last week I had to get my hair done and I was a nervous wreck, terrified that you'd wake and need me and that I'd be out in Granville having my fall low-lights put in my hair.
I walked in and said, "I don't have long today. If my sitter calls, I'm walking out with wet, uncut hair if I need to so LET'S MOVE IT!" Because I really didn't need uncut hair. I'd gone almost three long months without any diva maintenancing and BOY did I need it.
--You're just so different these days. You're a big girl, two and a half months old. No more newborny stuff, even sleep-wise--no more. No sleeping on my tummy, no more totally sporadic feeds (you can go three hours now and most times you do), no more baby coma, no more just...newness. You're established somewhat and you've acclimated yourself here just fine. You tolerate the noise pretty well, not even freaking out when someone goes running past you shrieking over someone taking something of theirs. Of course, you've been listening to that crap ever since you were a twinkle in my eye so maybe that's not so surprising.
--I bought THE CUTEST Halloween get-up for you. Not a costume, a...frock. With tulle and glitter and sparkles. Halloween should be every day for you.
You're just a delight.
I love you madly and even on the short runs that I do while you're sleeping...I can't wait to get back to you.
When you sleep long, I can't wait for you to wake so I can kiss and cuddle you a bit.
I miss you in my sleep so I dream about you.
I. Am. Smitten.
Happy 10 weeks to you.
Love,
Mama
P.S. I will do better posting. Again. This is a long-term project at this point, I see no reason not to continue to write to you so...I'm in for the haul. I just need the days to be 30 hours instead of 24. I could do so much with those extra six hours, you have no idea....
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