Reflections: A Month of Motherhood
According to the calendar, it's been one month since Van was born. (According to the child development books though, my son is not a month old but rather, 4 *weeks* (and 2 days) old. I now understand why it's measured in weeks until they turn 2 years. They change so freakishly fast that each week brings so much new stuff.) So I've got plenty to write about. . . . first things first.
So a month ago, I labored for 28 hours, pushed for 6, and gave birth to our first child vaginally, without pain killers. My water broke on Halloween minutes after Sarah arrived around 2; we were going to go on a walk. Instead, she made me grilled cheese and soup (delicious!) and we watched Sex in the City. Around 6ish, we went for a walk around the lake. I suppose I was having 30-45 second contractions every 6-7 minutes. I labored through the night. I puked up my dinner of french toast somewhere along the way. I spent most of my time in a nest of blankets I made on the bathroom floor. Yes, the bathroom floor. I was freakishly cold and the bathroom, so small but with its own heat vent is the warmest room in the house. Plus, I didn't want to be too far away from the toilet. I called my doula Ruth around midnight? Maybe, 2am. Then I labored mostly on the couch or in the shower. The next morning, we went for a walk and Ruth called the doctor on call. They were alarmed that I had not come in yet, as my water had been broken for 17 hours then and they don't like that-- fear infection and such. But I didn't want to go to the hospital any sooner than necessary, but when we got there around 9-ish, I was already 9 1/2 cm dilated!! We thought it would be moments until Van's arrival, cause on average by then, the pushing stage starts and that usually takes 30 minutes to 2 hours. Anyhoo, I never had an overwhelming urge to push. My contractions weren't that long and too be honest not strong enough to get that baby out! All that pushing was sure willpower. I got a pitocin drip and then I still had to make every single one of those 30-45 second contractions count by sheer willpower. It was indeed exhausting. Now that I've experienced labor, I gotta say-- it's hard fucking work and tedious and painful. And I can't say, that had I'd gotten to the hospital and been, lets say only 3-4 cm dilated, I can't say I wouldn't have grabbed the first dr. and demanded that he dope me up and cut the kid out of me. It's truly just one event at a time in labor. You're filled with fear and doubt and tired as hell. Thanks goes out to my doula, my husband (who was simply amazing), and my cheerleaders (especially the photographer, Ms. Sadie). Anyhoo, at 6:13p on Nov. 1, Van was born to Beethoven. I enjoyed the music very much.
Since then. . . . well it's been a maelstrom of emotions and dirty diapers. Our first 24 hours home alone with the baby, I cried 4 times. I hear that's not bad actually. Not even considering the hormones, it's overwhelming. There's more doubt, more fear, and more exhaustion. Oh no, the labor is just a warm up. Then the breastfeeding is so difficult. The colostrum, the stuff that comes before the milk, is, because of its consistency, harder for the kid to suck. It seems like a cruel joke to me that after the marathon of labor, one must struggle with the doubt and fear of breastfeeding. "Is my baby starving? I can't get him to latch on. Will my milk come in? Am I doing this right? Will my nipples burst open and bleed?" I was so worried that I wouldn't be able to breastfeed. I was so worried about it, that that was the reason I wanted to have an all natural childbirth experience, just to start off as natural as possible so that my body would respond accordingly. So then, when 3-5 days after Van was born, I was feeding him and when he came off the breast, he had milk running out of his mouth and all over his chin and cheeks. . . . I was so happy. I cried. Now, I pump sometimes. Dan fed him with a bottle for the first time last Sunday so I could go to Girl Brunch. He eats every 3 hours and we do okay. I suppose since he's already outgrown his Newborn clothes, it's looking pretty good that his feeding is fine.
There's so much too say and little time to say it (as is demonstrated by the fact I haven't updated in over a month), so now it's time for. . . .
RANDOM REFLECTIONS:
**I'm pretty laid back, but having a kid and sharing that responsibility with your husband is nerve-wracking. Sometimes, we are so exhausted and stressed out, that we turn each other into enemies. Sometimes it's easier/more manageable to be home alone with Van than when Dan's here. It can be difficult to agree on a plan of action when the kiddo is crying inconsolably and it breaks down into us arguing. (ahhh, how stress can rear its ugly head in the absolute wrong places. . . .) Sometimes, it's wonderful to have someone to share the workload, as well as share the joy and the beauty of the wee baby. Mostly, the latter is the MO in the house and I'm not sure how anyone does this alone.
**Van's fingers are long and his feet and toes are long too. They used to be slender too, but now they are getting chubby.
**His hair refuses to stay down. Ever since we spiked his hair after a bath 2 weeks ago, I can't get it to stay down now. He's already sporting a punk hairdo. Now we just wait for the blue dye job.
**My boob is about the size of his head, so when he eats, he can wrap his whole arm around it. But everyday, he gets bigger and already he's starting to only use his hands.
**Like every parent before me, I sneak in to look at my baby while he sleeps to make sure he's still breathing. Babies breathe so shallowly that sometimes you have to touch them to make sure.
**When he cries and you don't know why, it's like someone is ripping out your heart. Always before, when the cry belongs to someone else's kid, maybe it was at most irritating, but when it's your kid, it's painful. Perhaps, it's as Dan says, "the buck stops here" and that is painful in its gravity of responsibility or maybe it's evolution.
**Some days I can't imagine a time without Van. It feels as though he's been with Dan and I forever. At other times, I look at him like he's a stranger and think, "so... now what Little Stranger?"
**In 2 weeks, I'll have my 6 weeks postpartum check up and most likely will be given the go ahead to have sex. I'm a tad terrified. There's been a major shift in my personality, our relationship to each other, and of course, in my vagina. Every book I've read has guaranteed that it will hurt and that it will require loads of lubricant. And between that and my hormones being on mother mode, why would I be looking forward to it? And that it's been over a month and I'm not looking forward to it is frightening. I'm a sexual creature and I chose Dan because he is too and because that dynamic has (even if just temporarily) changed, I am alarmed by that and wonder about its affect on our short and long term relationship.
**I'm glad I can stay home with Van. It must be difficult to go back to work and hand his daily care over to someone else. At the same time, that sometimes sounds so free-ing and preferable to the day in day out of what can be a tedious routine. I wonder how I'll do come next April when I plan on trying to get a job.
**It's a pretty tight schedule of a day, he eats every 3 hours. It takes an hour to feed him and change him and play a little while. So that gives me 2 out of 3 hours to do other stuff, but that time actually slips away quickly (as my own feeding and changing takes quite some time too), thus leaving me feeling like I get very little accomplished. Thank god I'm real forgiving of myself. (Translates as-- low expectations for getting non-baby related things done.) No struggle to be SuperMom here, but some days, the routine wears on you.
**He's a beautiful baby. He's a Scorpio and he already seems hyper aware and sensitive.
**Last night, he slept 6 whole hours straight!! If only I had. . . .
**I take SO many pictures. I'm having technical difficulties, along with the time constraints, uploading them to our website. So hang in there, I'll hopefully post some soon.
So that's it or all I can think of at this moment, as Van's feeding time approaches. . . . Dan and I are preparing to go on our first date next week. We're going to go see Harry Potter.
So a month ago, I labored for 28 hours, pushed for 6, and gave birth to our first child vaginally, without pain killers. My water broke on Halloween minutes after Sarah arrived around 2; we were going to go on a walk. Instead, she made me grilled cheese and soup (delicious!) and we watched Sex in the City. Around 6ish, we went for a walk around the lake. I suppose I was having 30-45 second contractions every 6-7 minutes. I labored through the night. I puked up my dinner of french toast somewhere along the way. I spent most of my time in a nest of blankets I made on the bathroom floor. Yes, the bathroom floor. I was freakishly cold and the bathroom, so small but with its own heat vent is the warmest room in the house. Plus, I didn't want to be too far away from the toilet. I called my doula Ruth around midnight? Maybe, 2am. Then I labored mostly on the couch or in the shower. The next morning, we went for a walk and Ruth called the doctor on call. They were alarmed that I had not come in yet, as my water had been broken for 17 hours then and they don't like that-- fear infection and such. But I didn't want to go to the hospital any sooner than necessary, but when we got there around 9-ish, I was already 9 1/2 cm dilated!! We thought it would be moments until Van's arrival, cause on average by then, the pushing stage starts and that usually takes 30 minutes to 2 hours. Anyhoo, I never had an overwhelming urge to push. My contractions weren't that long and too be honest not strong enough to get that baby out! All that pushing was sure willpower. I got a pitocin drip and then I still had to make every single one of those 30-45 second contractions count by sheer willpower. It was indeed exhausting. Now that I've experienced labor, I gotta say-- it's hard fucking work and tedious and painful. And I can't say, that had I'd gotten to the hospital and been, lets say only 3-4 cm dilated, I can't say I wouldn't have grabbed the first dr. and demanded that he dope me up and cut the kid out of me. It's truly just one event at a time in labor. You're filled with fear and doubt and tired as hell. Thanks goes out to my doula, my husband (who was simply amazing), and my cheerleaders (especially the photographer, Ms. Sadie). Anyhoo, at 6:13p on Nov. 1, Van was born to Beethoven. I enjoyed the music very much.
Since then. . . . well it's been a maelstrom of emotions and dirty diapers. Our first 24 hours home alone with the baby, I cried 4 times. I hear that's not bad actually. Not even considering the hormones, it's overwhelming. There's more doubt, more fear, and more exhaustion. Oh no, the labor is just a warm up. Then the breastfeeding is so difficult. The colostrum, the stuff that comes before the milk, is, because of its consistency, harder for the kid to suck. It seems like a cruel joke to me that after the marathon of labor, one must struggle with the doubt and fear of breastfeeding. "Is my baby starving? I can't get him to latch on. Will my milk come in? Am I doing this right? Will my nipples burst open and bleed?" I was so worried that I wouldn't be able to breastfeed. I was so worried about it, that that was the reason I wanted to have an all natural childbirth experience, just to start off as natural as possible so that my body would respond accordingly. So then, when 3-5 days after Van was born, I was feeding him and when he came off the breast, he had milk running out of his mouth and all over his chin and cheeks. . . . I was so happy. I cried. Now, I pump sometimes. Dan fed him with a bottle for the first time last Sunday so I could go to Girl Brunch. He eats every 3 hours and we do okay. I suppose since he's already outgrown his Newborn clothes, it's looking pretty good that his feeding is fine.
There's so much too say and little time to say it (as is demonstrated by the fact I haven't updated in over a month), so now it's time for. . . .
RANDOM REFLECTIONS:
**I'm pretty laid back, but having a kid and sharing that responsibility with your husband is nerve-wracking. Sometimes, we are so exhausted and stressed out, that we turn each other into enemies. Sometimes it's easier/more manageable to be home alone with Van than when Dan's here. It can be difficult to agree on a plan of action when the kiddo is crying inconsolably and it breaks down into us arguing. (ahhh, how stress can rear its ugly head in the absolute wrong places. . . .) Sometimes, it's wonderful to have someone to share the workload, as well as share the joy and the beauty of the wee baby. Mostly, the latter is the MO in the house and I'm not sure how anyone does this alone.
**Van's fingers are long and his feet and toes are long too. They used to be slender too, but now they are getting chubby.
**His hair refuses to stay down. Ever since we spiked his hair after a bath 2 weeks ago, I can't get it to stay down now. He's already sporting a punk hairdo. Now we just wait for the blue dye job.
**My boob is about the size of his head, so when he eats, he can wrap his whole arm around it. But everyday, he gets bigger and already he's starting to only use his hands.
**Like every parent before me, I sneak in to look at my baby while he sleeps to make sure he's still breathing. Babies breathe so shallowly that sometimes you have to touch them to make sure.
**When he cries and you don't know why, it's like someone is ripping out your heart. Always before, when the cry belongs to someone else's kid, maybe it was at most irritating, but when it's your kid, it's painful. Perhaps, it's as Dan says, "the buck stops here" and that is painful in its gravity of responsibility or maybe it's evolution.
**Some days I can't imagine a time without Van. It feels as though he's been with Dan and I forever. At other times, I look at him like he's a stranger and think, "so... now what Little Stranger?"
**In 2 weeks, I'll have my 6 weeks postpartum check up and most likely will be given the go ahead to have sex. I'm a tad terrified. There's been a major shift in my personality, our relationship to each other, and of course, in my vagina. Every book I've read has guaranteed that it will hurt and that it will require loads of lubricant. And between that and my hormones being on mother mode, why would I be looking forward to it? And that it's been over a month and I'm not looking forward to it is frightening. I'm a sexual creature and I chose Dan because he is too and because that dynamic has (even if just temporarily) changed, I am alarmed by that and wonder about its affect on our short and long term relationship.
**I'm glad I can stay home with Van. It must be difficult to go back to work and hand his daily care over to someone else. At the same time, that sometimes sounds so free-ing and preferable to the day in day out of what can be a tedious routine. I wonder how I'll do come next April when I plan on trying to get a job.
**It's a pretty tight schedule of a day, he eats every 3 hours. It takes an hour to feed him and change him and play a little while. So that gives me 2 out of 3 hours to do other stuff, but that time actually slips away quickly (as my own feeding and changing takes quite some time too), thus leaving me feeling like I get very little accomplished. Thank god I'm real forgiving of myself. (Translates as-- low expectations for getting non-baby related things done.) No struggle to be SuperMom here, but some days, the routine wears on you.
**He's a beautiful baby. He's a Scorpio and he already seems hyper aware and sensitive.
**Last night, he slept 6 whole hours straight!! If only I had. . . .
**I take SO many pictures. I'm having technical difficulties, along with the time constraints, uploading them to our website. So hang in there, I'll hopefully post some soon.
So that's it or all I can think of at this moment, as Van's feeding time approaches. . . . Dan and I are preparing to go on our first date next week. We're going to go see Harry Potter.