Little things mean so much

Yes - we have what can be considered a smile!!! It was fleeting...didn't know I had it until I uploaded the picture to my computer. I must admit it melts my heart.

I caught another glimpse of the elusive smile today. When I mentioned it to Jay, he said he thought he had seen one, too.

Oh happy day!

Granted, the rest of the day wasn't all roses. Because Ian's had such a nasty time with gas and colic, I decided to take the plunge and try a new brand of bottle. Man, was he NOT happy! By the end of the bottle, I think he was used to it, but it was too late. Spewed all over my leg and the ottoman I was sitting on. Then about a half hour later, he again hurled all over himself, me and the Baby Bjorn I was attempting to put him in.

He has been good with the spewing until this point. I gave him the "Wayne's World" speech - "If you hurl, then I'll spew. If I spew, then you'll blow chunks..."

I thought he got it. I thought wrong.

Oh, but it's so fun to snuggle with him. He has definitely become quite the cuddler with me.

He's become, dare I say, a Mama's Boy? Not in the namby-pamby way, but that he'll react to me differently than he will to Jay. Ahh, once again - melts my heart.

He will be 2 months old on Monday. The time really does go quickly. Amazingly enough, I've found that even when he's screaming uncontrollably, I love every moment of having him in my arms. He's sleeping now. As much as my body is hoping that he will suddenly sleep through the night, my mind is jonesing for the moment I can cuddle with him again.

What if he never smiles...?

I always knew that motherhood was not going to be easy. It's because of that knowledge that I at times wondered if I should even be a mother. Did I have the strength, the endurance to be a good one?

I. Don't. Know.

I love him with every fiber of my being. I look at him, and my heart melts. But the last few weeks have been so hard. I have never felt more alone in my life. If I mention something to someone about how I'm feeling, I get the "Don't worry about it, everyone feels this way. It will get better."

When? When will it get better? He cries. A lot. He wakes up and cries. He eats and cries. He even cries in his sleep. I am thoroughly convinced he looks up and sees me and cries even harder because of it.

I feel so guilty. Guilty for having my body shut down and deprive him in utero. Guilty for being so sick those first couple weeks. So guilty for not being able to breastfeed. I keep wondering that if I had tried a little harder, insisted more with him and everyone else , that maybe things would be different. Yeah, some of this guilt may be irrational - I've essentially heard that from everyone, especially Jay.

"All babies go through this." "Just give it time."

What if he never smiles?

I hate myself right now. I hate cringing every time he cries and I can't help him calm down. I hate that I don't want to take pictures of him because I can never get him to sit by himself long enough without crying.

I hate that my husband thinks I am overreacting. I hate that he's sick of me crying. I hate that I am disappointing him by not being stronger and not letting things like this bother me.

And I hate that I am so jealous of all those women that do not have to go through this. They have perfect little babies who have no problems breastfeeding and are already smiling every time they look at someone. Ian is 7 weeks old, and spends most of his time eating, sleeping, and crying.

But I will go on. I have to, right? My son needs me. I need him to need me. So desperately do I need that right now.

What a difference a week makes

I just realized that a week ago today, my blood pressure drama truly began. I had so many emotions going through me that day.

Why did I feel so weird? Why didn't I have any energy? Will I ever be a mother to my little boy?

I am so grateful for all of the support of my mother-in-law and mother. They stepped in and allowed me to do what was needed for me to get better. I only hope I can be half the mother to Ian as they were to me.

I am finally starting to feel better. My bp readings have continued to edge towards normal with each passing day. Breastfeeding has been slow-going, but I think Ian and I are finding our way.

I really feel blessed.

Heeerrrrreeeee's Ian!

This has definitely been a very long week. The birth experience was nothing like I ever imagined, but I am happy that my son is here - healthy and strong.I was put on bedrest on May 6th because I had finally crossed over to pre-eclampsia. Unfortunately, bedrest did nothing for me. By that Sunday, I was in the emergency room with what I thought was bronchitis - hacking cough, shortness of breath. My bp was extremely high - I think something like 180/90 (hard to remember at this point), so I was sent to L&D. I stayed the night there, and bp went down enough to be out of danger zone, Ian showed no sign of distress, so I was sent home with instructions to do 24-hour urine check and get checked again the next day at my doctor's office.

Next day, my doctor did an internal - I was closed and soft. I was again told to head back to my doctor's office the next day for a NST and bp check. Big surprise - NST was great, bp not so hot. My doctor ordered me to go to the hospital to be seen by the fetal-maternal specialist to determine whether induction would be necessary. So, I went home, threw stuff into a bag (was getting to the whole hospital bag thing, never got there), and off dh and I went. I ended up having to be admitted - evidently there were lots of women that needed to see the specialist that day - so I went to a pre-partum room, got almost no sleep, and waited.

At 7:30am on the 14th, my doctor came in to see me. At first he said he still wanted me to see the specialist before deciding on induction. He then left and came back a few minutes later and told me that he didn't like how my bp was looking, so he'd induce me regardless of the specialist's recommendation. I called my dh, and told him we were having a baby today. So I was wisked back to L&D and set up in a room. At about 9am, I had my ultrasound with the specialist - At that point, Ian head and bone structure were measuring at 36 weeks, but his belly was more like 34 weeks, a sure sign of the effects of pre-e on the baby. Although Ian, looked great, with everything else, he recommended pitocin.So, at around 11am, I was started on magnesium sulfate as a way to help with my bp.

At noon, I was started on pitocin. After about an hour I had an internal - no change. Contractions were starting, Ian was handling them very well. I continued on like this throughout the day. Being on the mag was probably the worst - my body felt like lead, I was given a catheter, I was exhausted but couldn't sleep. I had another internal sometime in the afternoon - still no change. DH went to get dinner, was back in about half an hour. I'm glad one of us was able to take a break for a while. At some point I told him that he was going to have our next child. Just before 8pm, a midwife came in for another internal - absolutely no change. BP was continueing to get higher. My doctor came in a few minutes later and told me it was time to have the baby.

Everything after that happened in a blur. DH was give scrubs, anethesiologist came in to explain the epidural, then it was off to the operating room. The worst part of the c-section was actually getting the epidural. What seemed like seconds after getting on the table, I heard Ian's cry. He was not happy about being yanked out of his cozy home. I could see him in the side room getting cleaned and checked by the nurse. Apgars were 8/9 - I was on cloud 9 when I heard that. Things were starting off positively. I was finally able to meet my son in the recovery room - so tiny (4 lbs, 8.5 oz), but so alert and wiggly. He had to be kept under the warmer in the nursury for the first 2 days, but at least he was strong enough to stay out of NICU. My bp never seemed to really cooperate. We were both discharged on Saturday, Ian with a clean bill of health, me with bp medication.

On Sunday, I was having a hard time breathing, so dh took me back to the hospital. It was determined that I had developed fluid on my lungs, and my bp was continuing to rise. I was admitted to L&D and given IV lasix to reduce the fluid. I was then switched to cardiac care to deal with the bp. I was so distraught by this point - I was scared, I missed Ian horribly (he was at home with my MIL), and I was so tired of being in the hospital. The people in cardiac were fantastic - they told me that Ian was more than welcome to visit. For once, I felt some peace.

I was diagnosed with Post-partum cardiomyopothy. I also found out that I had moderate to severe leakage in my mitral valve. I was finally discharged on Tuesday after they were able to get my bp down. The cardiologist I saw the next day was great, and I finally feel like

I am on my way to getting better. I am happy to say that Ian is growing by leaps and bounds. Although he lost 4 ounces at first, he has since reached his birth weight, and I find out tomorrow how much he's gained since Tuesday. I'm breastfeeding right now, but have to supplement with formula. He's trying so hard, but the little guy gets tired out with bf, so the formula is needed to make sure he's gaining. Other than dh, he is the absolute love of my life, and I am so glad to be feeling stronger so that I can finally take on the role of mommy.

You're not 35 weeks!

Yes, I've heard that quite a few times during my pregnancy. You can't be that far along, you're so small! Believe me, since I have felt this baby kick both in ribs and punch me in the pelvic bone on numerous occasions, even at the same time, I am positive that I am this far along. Can't help it if he has room to stretch out. Heck, he's his father's son - he loves to stretch!

But never did I think I'd hear it from an ER nurse. OK - before everyone gets excited, no, there were no contractions. Quite the opposite, actually. Allergies, unfortunately, have not been my friend the last few days. So, I was not surprised when disgusting cough showed up. I was surprised when it got so tight that it felt like my throat was ripping to shreds. Then, at 2 am, I woke up gasping - not usual for me. So I sat there for a few minutes - Do I wake up Jay? Do I wait and see how I feel in the morning? Do I wake up Jay?

Then the mantra screamed in my head, "If you can't breathe, the baby can't breathe."

That kind of stopped me dead. Up until this point, I think I would have waited it out, but on Tuesday I was thrown a pregnancy curveball. I was put on bedrest. BEDREST. No working, no housecleaning, and at most, short trips to the store. You don't tell that to a girl that has only been at her job for 4 1/2 months, and is getting to the crazy time. You don't tell that to a girl who has finally had the nesting bug hit. My doctor's response, "Too bad. You're done."

So when the cough and lack of air getting to my lungs showed up with no relief from my inhaler, I decided to take the plunge and wake Jay. He was so great, telling me not to worry, it's easier to be safe than sorry. Off to the hospital we went. Albany is so pretty at 2:30am, even with the drunks hanging around the bars on Lark.

We walked right into ER, was taken to a triage room. The tech took my blood pressure - 155/106. I actually laughed at that - shouldn't I be dead or something with a bp like that? Then, a room inside to wait for a doctor. After waiting for about 1/2 an hour and listening to some drunk say he didn't fuckin' need to be there, that everyone was a fag and he was calling his lawyer, a nurse came in to get my info. She read the info from the intake desk, looked at me, and said with reproach, "You're 35 weeks? You can't be." Thanks. Thanks alot. Then come the comments about the swollen legs and high blood pressure. "You may want to mention that to your doctor" Um, yeah, did I not just say that I was put on bedrest the other day?

So, one thing leads to another. Lungs are clear (yay), but bp, is still not good, and suddenly, there is protein in my urine. Fun. Off to L& D I go. In a stretcher. All the nurses and doctors staring at me when I walk in. I said Hi. What else was I supposed to do?

All in all, my experience was very good. My nurse, Michelle, was so sweet. She basically downplayed the protein-in-urine thing (It's not all that uncommon to have blood in your urine at this point, which will show up as protein. Who knew?) and that my bloodwork came back quite normal. She called my Munchkin "gorgeous" when referring to his movements. And then she told me snoring and drooling were completely normal, and would definitely be gone after the baby was here. Too cool.

I was finally able to leave at 8:30 am on Sunday. As nice as everyone one, and as reassuring as hearing my baby's heart beat nice and strong, I couldn't wait to get home. Best of all, there was no pre-eclampsia. So my legs are still fat, and my bp keeps going wonky for no real reason. I can hang on for 32 more days (or more) until Munchkin decides to make an appearance. Whatever he wants. As long as he's OK.

Shaving......The Final Frontier

Never have I thought that something as simple as shaving could become such a complex undertaking. Now that my legs have seemed to permanently come to resemble those of an elephant, I have found that shaving requires a careful balance between careful precision and sheer dumb luck.

Why dumb luck? Because even though I think I have gone over a spot (usually the back of my ankles) for what has to be at least 10 times, I am still utterly baffled by the fact that I MISSED an entire 2 by 2 -inch patch. And we're not talking "oh, I have a little stubble, I'll get it next time", we're talking about what seems to be WEEKS worth of growth.

HOW CAN THAT BE?????????

I know that bending at the waist has been close to impossible lately. I'm lucky I can shave my knees, let alone anything below them. But I have been so careful to feel my way around, making sure the razor doesn't catch in any of the lovely folds of skin that cover my ankles. It doesn't feel like I've missed anything, but then when I happen to glance down after I've gotten out of the shower and am half dressed there it is - the hairy monster.

So what's a girl to do? Waxing? Not an option. Nair? Never could use it before I was pregnant, so no point now. I guess the only thing that's left is to suck it up and deal and hope that by the time I get to take a shower after Munchkin is born, my legs will be somewhat back to normal, bending at the waist isn't too uncomfortable, and I can finally pulverize the nasty hairy monster.

One can only hope.

3rd Trimester fun

Photo taken on Easter Sunday, March 23, 2008
28 wks, 4 days

So, I am definitely in my 3rd trimester. This experience has definitely gone a lot quicker than I had ever imagined. Back when all this started, this point in my pregnancy seemed so far away, just a speck on the calendar.

I a little over 10 weeks or so, I will be a mother.

A daunting task. So many questions. Will I do things right? Will I be too overprotective? Will I choose the right pediatrician? Have I done something that would affect his development drastically?

Then the other not-so-harmful questions:
Will he have my eyes?
Jay's nose?
My patience?
Jay's obsession with sports?
My teeth?
Jay's smile?

I like to think about those questions better. From what I've seen, parenthood is a constant, eternal learning process. I'm going to make mistakes, make some good choices, second-guess every decision. I can only hope that my son will grow to be a happy, healthy, intelligent, kind-hearted person.

Here's goes nothin'.

In Memorium....

Today, I sadly must admit one cruel fact about pregnancy: I am swollen. I knew it was coming - my feet have not been able to fit into a pair of shoes in over a month - but I never thought the most horrible of things would happen.

I can no longer wear my wedding rings.

Tragic, but true. As of a week ago, this is the best I could do:

I have high hopes that it won't be long after Munchkin makes his appearance that I will be able to wear them again. But, still, I try each morning to see if they will go any farther past my knuckle. Vain attempts, I know. But I can only wish.

** On Tuesday, March 4, 2008, Jay and I decided on the name for our son. It will be announced to the world upon his arrival in June. Yay!

The prediction says....

OK, so I had been hearing about this Madame Zaritzka thing on the web. You answer a few questions, you get a prediction of how your birth experience will be. Here is my prediction:

Madame Zaritska's reading

Madame Zaritska, our resident clairvoyant, wants to help you prepare for the arrival of your child. Here she does her best to predict certain aspects of your labor and birth experience.
What she senses for you:

The day you deliver, outside will be cloudy. Your baby will arrive in wee hours of the morning .

After a labor lasting approximately 3 hours, your child, a boy, will be born. Your baby will weigh about 5 pounds, 7 ounces, and will be 19 inches long. This child will have dark brown eyes and a little patch of brown hair.

But there is more. It is perfectly healthy and normal to want to look good, even during these interesting months! I sense you feel a little reluctant. Well, you're not being silly or shallow -- you're taking care of yourself. And I am happy that you are. Here is some fashionable advice for you to peruse at this special time.

Well, not too thrilled with the baby's weight, but I can handle the 3 hours of labor. Guess we'll know in 14 weeks!

It's a....

BOY!!!

I admit, for a while I was kind of hoping for a girl, but for some reason I always had this feeling that we were having a boy.

There was no denying it - although he was playing hide and seek for a while, he finally let it all hang out.

I had fun calling my family and close friends to tell them the news, but wow, was I exhausted when I was done!

Now on to the best part - REGISTERING!!!! Although just like when we registered for our wedding, I'm going to have to break Jay in gently. I have the feeling he'll be tired before I am. Poor boy.

And I have finally caved and had a picture taken of me. It was taken today at 21 weeks, 1 day. Ugh. I am not a pretty pregnant lady. Granted, I didn't exactly primp first, but still, I ain't pretty.

Dear Munchkin,

You and I have been together now for almost 2o weeks. In that time, I never thought I could experience as many emotions as I have.

First of all, I was extremely happy and relieved to see you bouncing all over the place last week at our scary ultrasound. When the doctor said there was nothing abnormal, I felt a little bit of hope. Although I couldn't see as much that day as your daddy did, it warmed my heart to see you do that little baby dance. Already I know you are too cute for your own good!

Frustration. Never have I felt so much frustration. Never I have I wanted to meet someone so much in my life. It drives me crazy knowing that I still have to wait another 20 weeks.

Do you know that you hurt? And that you already know how to hit a nerve? Granted, I know those swipes you take at me are random, but do you think you could make it a little more random so that I'm not completely sore and walking with a limp at the end of every day?

Most of all, I have never thought I could love someone as much as I love you. Yes, I love your daddy with every part of me, but I know there will be a place in my heart that will always belong to you. You have become more precious to me in these few short weeks than I could ever imagine.

And yes, even when you're 40 and have kids of your own, I'll still call you Munchkin. You're stuck with it. Call it a mother's prerogative.

P.S. Do you think you could open your legs nice and wide for me and daddy next week so we can see what you are? Let's say it will help you with the whole 'Munchkin' thing.

The good, the bad, and the scary

OK. I realize that it has been a very long time since I've written anything. I'd like to say that things have gone without a hitch, but I'm finding out that the hysterics of parenthood start long before the munchkin makes his or her first appearance into the world.

First off, let's talk about the good. I have, for the most part, felt very good. I sailed through the "bad period" without so much as a thought of nausea. Other than an incident with food poisoning, and a weird indigestion thing, I have been able to keep everything going in its normal direction. My nose continues to be a completely different beast. Although, congestion has improved greatly since starting my new job (which has been going quite well, thank you), I still get bouts of stuffiness (like right at this particular minute - my nose has now become something of a barometer. We're getting more snow = complete nasal blockage).

So, that's good.

Now, the bad. I have found that I hate clothes shopping. With great intensity. If I could just wave a magic wand and have all of my pre-pregnancy clothes suddenly grow an elastic waste band, I would. I don't know what goes through the minds of maternity clothes manufacturers. They all (OK, maybe not all, but definitely those that are moderately priced) seem to think that as soon as you conceive, all sense of good taste goes right out the window. They must think that since you are pregnant, you will suddenly want to go from your usual low-key, understatedly elegant style, to the overwhelming urge to wear garish pastels and poofy sleeves. And don't get me started on actually trying everything on...

And unfortunately, I have to talk about the scary. I got the phone call that I never thought I'd get. I had my quad screen the day after Christmas. Didn't think much of it. Had my 16-week appointment - everything seemed great. Doctor was happy with the heart rate (160), and that I wasn't experiencing any cramping or bleeding. Then 3 days later, I get the call. The screening results were back - a 1 in 29 chance that my baby might have Downs. After hearing that word, it seemed as though my mind shut down and started racing at the same time. I've been through enough statistics classes to know that 1 in 29 is only pretty when you're playing the lottery, and even then, your chances aren't great. Needless to say, Jay and I were plunged into a state of fear and foreboding that we never expected. I spent the rest of the evening bursting into tears at random moments (thankfully my scrapbooking friends are extremely supportive and understanding, and I am deeply appreciative that Jay shoved me out the door to be with them). Jay spent much of the night on the internet trying to get as much information as he could to try to understand what was happening.

In a nutshell, we are very hopeful that we will be part of the 98% false-positive rate. Even with all the hopeful information we've received from internet reports in addition to all of the positive outcomes we learned of from people we know, we are still very much on edge.

So now, we just have to wait for the Level II ultrasound appointment on Tuesday. Two more days. We had come to a somewhat fabricated sense of normalcy between Monday and now - I say that because I know the situation is still at the forefront of both of our minds. But now that we have an appointment, the next two days will seem like an eternity.

Here's hoping that there really is power in positive thought.