The Long and Unexpectedly Long of It

When we last convened here on ye olde bloge, Baby M made a sudden, dramatic arrival nine minutes after the doctor broke my water. Now here we are for the story of Baby F! Spoiler: it's by far the longest of the four. So stay a while and listen.

After having two punctual babies on their due dates I fully expected this one to be the same, on the 22nd. I was scheduled for an induction on the 23rd, just in case (hardly necessary, I said to myself). In the past I never had regular contractions before having the babies so on Saturday afternoon (the 21st) when I started having contractions I was not surprised. But they tapered off in the evening and I went to bed, rather disappointed. 

The next day, I tell you I did everything I could to get this baby moving out. I SO wanted him to have a Baggins birthday. But I could not will it to be, despite my best efforts, and I went to bed even more disappointed, with an appointment for the hospital at 6:45 AM. 

In the wee hours, contractions started up again. I timed them, but after an hour or two they tapered off and I fell asleep. So we left for the hospital as planned, me feeling rather terrible and crampy, and arrived right at 6:45. We got checked in and figured out the jigsaw puzzle aka hospital gown. Contractions had started again so I walked around the room until the nurses came in to check me out and wire me up. Honestly I can't remember if I was at a 3 or 4, but at least I didn't have to worry about them sending me home again!

The contraction monitors went on easily, and then the traditional IV rigmarole began. They started on my left arm and tried to get a vein in my wrist rather than hand (again with the wrist!). In went the needle but it didn't work. Now, I do not generally have a problem with needles or blood drawing but once in a while I do. This was one of those times. So I told them I was woozy and they waited a few minutes for me to recover my senses. They tried on the right wrist and fail again. They called in another nurse who has the magic touch--after I got over a second round of wooziness. She came in, commented on my deep veins and did the IV.

I was having pretty good contractions at this point, but baby did not like them and his heart rate dipped with every one. At this point the doctor arrived. It was Doctor B again, who delivered Mr C by c-section six years ago. And based on baby's heart rate, she said, I might be headed for another c-section. Bah! (Not the same Doctor B who delivered Baby A.)

Fortunately baby soon adjusted to the contractions and the heart rate stayed level. But even so, they wanted to get the epidural placed, just in case. Now, call me crazy, but I didn't really want one this time. I didn't have one with Baby M so I knew I could do it without. Based on Baby A's birth, I thought epidurals a) didn't always work b) worked TOO well c) made the whole process hours longer. I'd rather faster and briefly painful than drawn out and completely numb for hours after. 

Anyway, I agreed to getting one placed, because of that heart rate issue, but they agreed to put in the lowest dosage, which would likely wear off by pushing time. In comes Epidural Guy #1, Dr L. I sit there while he does his thing when he said, "I've hit some blood here." ("Duh!" thought I.) But apparently this meant he had to start over. Okay. Sure. Take 2, he got it done, and then tells me that because of that "blood" he hit, I might get a headache in the next day or two. I'll know if it's from that because it will be worse standing up and will go away when I lay down. If it does happen, he says, he can fix it by putting from blood from my arm into my back. Okay? Sure? At any rate, Dr. L left. 

(I promise I'm trying to make this short.)

Well! Soon after he left I felt really awful. The blood pressure monitor went off, the nurses came in and ask if I feel terrible. Yes. Apparently I had a reaction to the epidural so Dr. L came back and put some ephedrine in my IV. Blood pressure went back up, all good.

Ten minutes later, it went back down and I felt terrible again. The nurse asked if I felt terrible and I told her it's hard to distinguish one terrible from another. More ephedrine. This happened two more times (and once, randomly, later in the day) before I finally leveled off. 

Are you wondering how baby was doing at this point? Contractions were humming along, though not super consistently. The epidural kicked in but I could watch them on the monitor. Time went by. I had some juice (no solids for me! D:). I ate jello and watched that Halloween baking show on Food Network for a while until Drew couldn't take it anymore. (Honestly, neither could I. One girl complained about bundt cakes being SO old fashioned. What) He put on a movie, which I slept through. 

Doctor B came back around noon. Baby's heart rate had started dipping again. They decided to switch to internal monitors for contractions and Baby's heart, which is a process as comfortable as you would imagine. At this point I was at a 6 and she decided to break my water. I was very excited for this and hoped for a quick resolution after, a la Baby M. The nurse commented several times on how there was just a LOT of fluid, and Dr B predicted a baby by 2 o'clock. 

So, lots of liquid. Zero contractions. Everything just stopped completely. The nurses came back with a plan to start a small dose of pitocin to get them going again. Okay. Sure. The pitocin worked but they weren't very strong. They bumped up the pitocin, but Baby's heart rate started dipping again, and some dips were pretty low (I could see them on the monitor). The c-section was definitely looking like a possibility. They put me on oxygen for a while to see if it would help. Did it? Who knows. 

Enter the Peanut Ball. The what? (That's what I said.) Turns out the Peanut Ball is like a yoga ball, but it's shaped like a peanut. It goes between your legs and basically just holds your hips open to help encourage the baby to move down. Okay. Sure. So I was laying on the bed on my side with this enormous ball between my legs. For an hour I dozed in and out, while one leg went completely numb and the other went completely un-numb. 

The nurse came in and asked how I was doing. I complained a bit about being uncomfortable so she helped me roll to my other side, which was basically all she could do. She also upped the pitocin again because even though Baby's heart rate was still dipping, it didn't dip as much as before, and contractions were still not super strong or regular. I was at a 6.5 now, which she called progress and I called THAT'S IT? But the strategy here was make this happen sooner than later, despite neither my body nor Baby being very motivated, apparently. 

I dozed in and out for another hour but the epidural was pretty worn off now (except for that one leg). Contractions woke me up and I started feeling like I could use a trip to the bathroom. And the peanut ball was really getting uncomfortable. 

So, the nurse returned with a new plan--her last plan before a C section. The umbilical cord, they thought, might be the culprit behind the heart rate dips so they were going to put fluid back IN and hope that would make the cord shift. I asked her if I could go to the bathroom and she was like a bloodhound on a scent, asking how long I'd felt like that (10-15 minutes). 

Now, if you've had a baby or read birth stories, you probably know where this is going. The thought did cross my mind too, but with Baby M, that pressure was SO strong I couldn't have stopped it if I'd tried. This time it felt so mild by comparison I didn't think it could possibly be the same cause. Also an hour before I'd not even hit a 7 and progress had been slow. My hopes were too low to consider the alternative.

Anyway, she did a check before they tried the fluid injection and what do you know, I'm at a 10 and there's a baby's head RIGHT THERE, just waiting to come out. They called for Doctor B, and Things started to happen. (My numb leg had the feeling back, in case you wondered.) Doctor B asked me how big the other babies were (all 8+) and predicted the same this time.

(Did I mention that both Doctor B and the nurse had trainees with them? Along with a few extra nurses. [Also Drew] There were a lot of people watching this happen. No dignity for the birthing.)

So that pressure really kicked in then and I'm like can I push yet?! Well, you know what happens then. I'm not sure how many pushes it took--maybe three minutes worth. But it didn't take long and out Baby came. Drew got to announce the gender, and the reveal did not surprise me in the slightest. (It was a pretty unsurprising surprise baby, ha) 

I don't know why he disliked contractions, but he was perfectly healthy and well. 8 pounds, six ounces (second heaviest!), 20.5 inches. A little snugglebun right from the start. 

Normally I would end the birth story here. You know, at the end of the birthing. But the trouble was not over! (For me. Baby F has thrived.)

Fast forward to the 25th, discharge day. Remember Dr. L's warning about a headache from that blood he hit? Well, it arrived that morning and it was painful. I had to sit up to feed the Baby so my head hurt. I laid down and then my neck hurt even worse than my head. Dr. L was not on that day so Epidural Guy #2, Dr. C, came to check on me. Truth be told he seemed a little skeptical because I was sitting up, but suggested that I walk around to see if it got better or worse. Worse, and he would do a blood patch to fix it. (The alternative was waiting a week or so for it to get better on its own) Dr. C left and the nurse brought me a Coke (which is supposed to help) and an ice pack for my neck. 

The ice pack helped, the Coke didn't but I got up to walk the hall. I made it around once and tried to go again but my head was killing me. If I'd kept going I'm pretty sure I would have barfed or passed out. Both? So I laid back down in my bed and cried for a while instead. I decided to do the blood patch. Dr. C came between C sections and did the blood patch in about 15 minutes. Basically he put a needle in that same hole Dr. L made, then drew blood from my arm and put that blood in my back. What this does, I had no idea (at the time). What I do know is that I am NEVER HAVING ANOTHER EPIDURAL. 

(No wooziness with this blood draw, fortunately.)

Anyway. I had to lay on my back for an hour to let the blood sit or whatever. After that I felt much better and we were finally discharged! (Baby F was a champ, not making a peep despite a long wait for a meal)

Fast forward two days! I woke up in the morning to take Baby for a bilirubin check/blood draw at the hospital. Guess what? My headache came back. I did my best to lay flat in every chair at the hospital and then cried all the way home. I could have gone back for another blood patch, but why? I was pretty over needles in my back. (Did I mention that what Dr. L used to clean my back left a big rash?) So I spent the next three days lying on my bed. Baby F and I became adept at reclined nursing and I watched another season of Bake Off. SO BORED. 

Finally it started to go away after those three days. I had a few more days of dizzy spells and regular headaches. I also had ample time to look up what blood patches are and what actually happened. Dr. L did (made? caused? hit?) a wet tap--a term no one said at the hospital--which basically means he accidentally caused a leak of spinal fluid. This loss of fluid, Dr. C explained, makes your brain sag when you're upright, which causes the pain. Which is called a spinal headache--another term no one said. I'm annoyed about the thing happening in the first place, annoyed in the second because it seemed like no one actually explained what happened. The blood patch helps to stop the leak of fluid until your body makes more. That, at least, is my basic understanding of it.

It was a frustrating process, since from the neck down my recovery was really easy. And after a lonnnnnnnnnnnnng nine months I'd been looking forward to just, you know, not feeling awful anymore. And instead I just felt a different kind of awful. And then I felt a DIFFERENT kind of awful the NEXT week when I got a stomach bug. Sigh. 

But look at this cute baby I made, who was (and is!) healthy and happy and cute through the whole process:

It's so fascinating to me how mysterious babies are before they're born. What do they look like? Who are they? What appendage is that poking my ribs? Will they have hair? And then they're born and I always think, oh, it's you! It was you all along in there. 

 

And you do have hair.

The Long and Unexpectedly Short of It

When we last left off, the Poppy was born VBAC style on her due date, accompanied by two epidurals, some hours and a lot of discomfort.  When #3 was on the way, we planned another VBAC. His original due date was June 22nd, but that was moved up to the 16th, due to his measuring ahead.  But I wondered to myself--does the baby know the due date is moved?  

On Wednesday the 14th the doctor stripped the membranes. On the 15th I felt pretty terrible, mostly because of the 14th.  Luckily my mom was here and she kept everyone amused while I flopped around the house.  As with the Poppy, I had had contractions now and then for the last few weeks, but nothing consistent and nothing more than annoying. Around 5:00 I noticed they were getting more painful and at 7:00 I started timing them.  We put people to bed, then sat around until 9:30 or so.  Then off we went to the hospital and I cried most of the way because hormones?      

We arrived and I got checked at 9:45 and was at a 3 (of 10), which was...exactly where I was at my appointment the day before.  Sigh.  So the nurse said she'd check me in an hour and if anything changed then they'd admit me.  (Exactly what happened with the Poppy, if you recall [which you probably don't because why])  As with the Poppy, I threw up dinner, just shy of the 10:45 recheck time.  I think the nurse took pity on me at that point and said she could check whenever I was ready.  

I walked back and forth in the room until 11:15, the nurse came back and I was at a 5!  A 5!  Do you know how many hours it took to get to a 5 with the Poppy?  Actually, I myself do not know, but it was a lot longer.  Anyway, so I finally got admitted and a new team of nurses came in at 11:30 to put in my IV, which had to be done before I could get the epidural.  Even though I was planning for an epidural (as per my doctor's recommendation for a VBAC), I was really hoping to be more calm until that epidural came.  Not that I was a crazy person with the Poppy but, this being the second time around, I wanted to manage myself better.

The one nurse--I will call him Guy Nurse, because he was a guy--spent LITERALLY 20 minutes deciding where to place the IV.  He didn't want to put it in my hand because he thought that was "mean" so he finally put it in my wrist.  Except that didn't work so he put it in my hand after all.  Except that didn't work either and he had to take it out and blood sprayed all over.  Needless to say, I considered stabbing HIM with the needle many times. 

The other nurse--I will call her Lady Nurse, because she was a lady--put an IV in my other hand in about 30 seconds.  The lesson here is that it is MUCH more mean to take 20+ minutes making two failed attempts at an IV than it is to just put it in my dang hand.  But I suppose my irritation distracted me a bit from the contractions, HA.  Was that his plan all along??  

So, the time is now just shy of midnight.  The epidural guy is right next door, the IV is in, the doctor is coming and will break my water after the epidural is done.  The doctor arrives before the epidural guy (official job title) and decides to just go ahead and break my water.  The guy better hurry with the epidural, he says, because I'm at an 8.  An 8!  Hurray!  And also ow.  

About 30 seconds after breaking my water, the ow changed to an OW and I said, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!  The baby is coming right now!"  I have a read a LOT of birth stories and people always talk about the sudden need to push--now I know what they mean.  At first everyone was like "...no, it's okay, just relax..." but they quickly changed their minds.  Baby was riding the tidal wave right out the door.  

The epidural guy arrived about a minute later and offered to try anyway, at least just a local injection.  The nurses told me to skip it, as it clearly wouldn't take long, and they were right.  Nine minutes after the water breakage (an hour after being admitted) and baby was out, exactly on his (new) due date.  

(I guess he got the memo after all.)

8 pounds, 2 ounces and 20 inches of little baby perfection.

By the way, those nine minutes were super painful.  Just really awful.  I've had three babies now (!) and each of them arrived in such different ways and times (Miss A was certainly the slowpoke at being born).  But they have all been so worth it--worth the c section recovery, worth the two epidurals, worth the nine minutes.  

Happy you're here, little one. 

(And not just because I'm now heartburn freeeeeeeeeeeee!)

A Kitchen Redo

Remember when I used to blog?  For the better part of last year and this one I actually forgot I even HAD a blog.  But I have come out of blogging hibernation to document our kitchen overhaul because it was a lot of work and it looks so different now.

When we first moved we planned to redo the cabinets at some point, just because I wanted white ones.  Soon after moving in we realized the cabinets had been stained and the workmanship was very poor indeed--streaky and incomplete.  Also the counter was painted.  Not nicely painted, just slapped on and it soon began to chip. The hardware was cheap and flimsy.  So the kitchen grew uglier, but with Babycakes on the way we knew a redo wasn't going to happen anytime soon.  

But cast your minds back to last October.  I whined about how we didn't redo our kitchen still and so we wouldn't do it until next summer and Drew said, "Let's do it this weekend!"  Which is the reaction I was fishing for, to be honest, evvvvvven though I proceeded to complain about all the reasons it wouldn't work before saying okayyyyyy.  

Our original plan was just to start with the cabinets but then we said, why don't we just paint the whole room too?  It seemed the moment.  So that Friday we bought a lot of paint stuff and once the smaller set was in bed we got to work.  

(I spent a lot of Friday taking doors and curtains downs and putting up tape.)

(We wound up doing three coats)

(The inspector came out in the morning and approved of our work.  Yes, he has a whale inside his jammies.)

With stage one complete, we started the long process of doing the cabinets on Saturday afternoon.  We used this kit (which for some reason was IMPOSSIBLE to get at Lowe's but readily available at Home Depot?) and did the Frost color.  I have two tips for this kit: watch the instructional DVD and buy a pack of green scrub pads.  Oh, and get some plastic cups to stand them on and keep hinges in.  Maybe that one is obvious.

Anyway, we set up shop in the garage and got to work scrubbing.

We scrubbed all afternoon and for hours after bedtime.  I won't say it wasn't hard.  I won't say that I didn't want to give up and cry at one point.  And I won't say that it was easy to lift my arms the next day.  BUT we got the scrubbing DONE.

Painting!

The painting took some time, just because it was coat one side, coat on the other side, coat inside...repeat, repeat.  We tried the antique effect, but it didn't really work with our color so that saved us a step.  So then we sealed everything.  After they dried and set for a while we got to put them back together and the kitchen regained some order.  Plus, new hardware!

I wish I had a picture of the old handles.  Just know that they were cheap and very shiny and annoying.  We got these pewter-ish ones and I love them.  Instead of painting the sides of the big cabinet I decided to do chalkboard paint on them.  I thought it would be fun and I could, you know, write stuff on them.

Turns out I like them better clean looking so...don't tell the kids it's a chalkboard...  I added the clothespins, which are handy.  Kind of wish I'd painted them too though.  (Anyone need any chalkboard paint?)

SO.  The cabinets and the walls were done.  We had a big goal of clearing off the counters so we got an undercabinet CD player, installed some hooks for bananas and got a smaller fruit bowl.  Eventually we hung a wire basket on the cabinet by the sink to put soap and stuff in.  Then we were finally ready to do the counters!  We used this kit, which we had to order.  

First went on the primer coat.  We were pretty pleased just with this change:

The process is basically layering colors over the primer.  It's easy to customize and didn't even take that long either, though we don't have THAT much counterspace.  Plus it's easy enough that certain toddlers can try it out.   

(I should say we plan to get new countertops at some point, but, in the meanwhile, we figured painting them couldn't possibly look worse than their previous paint job.)

And it turned out great!

Like four months later I finally did some art to hang over the window and we called it done!  So now here are the final after pictures:

(New butter dish!)

(New curtains!)

(How'd this get in here?)

Ta da!  Credit for the accessories on the cabinet and the whale hook goes to Hobby Lobby. Side story: one reason we got that red buoy is because if you ask Mr C what those are called, he'll say, "A GUH!" for some reason.  He knows the real term, but he still says that anyway and Miss A probably thinks that's what they're called.  We'll set her straight before college.  

On a semi-related note, here are three food things I am really excited about lately:

This tomato soup, which has replaced all other recipes as my favorite.

These pickled red onions, which are so good I was eating them out of the jar.

Making hard boiled eggs in the oven--WHAT.  This is life changing, people!  I can't find a good link so I will just tell you:

1) Eggs in a muffin tin

2) Muffin tin in a 350 degree oven for 30 minutes

3) Eggs straight into an ice bath

4) Eat all the eggs (which are SO easy to peel!)

Best thing ever.

And now I can make all these things in a kitchen that isn't hideous!

CAG at 3

Once upon a time there was a teensy weensy little fellow formerly referred to as the Speck.  Look at his funny little elf face:

And now that teensy weensy baby has achieved the illustrious age of 3!  I know I said this last year, but it's amazing the difference a year makes.  He's grown so much in basically every direction, and is such a little person now. 

(Sometimes he rides the bike and wears the helmet at the same time.)

Of course not everything has changed.  He still loves everything with wheels, though he can identify more of them by name now.  Loves his bike and scooter and gets better at riding them all the time.  He likes to be outside exploring, digging in the dirt, going on walks, jumping on the trampoline, antagonizing bugs or daredevil swinging. 

Just a little stitious.

Generally he has a great appetite, and he particularly loves cheese, peanut butter, fruits, and mac and cheese (who doesn't?).  He's still not a big fan of meat, but pepperoni has won him over.  Occasionally he'll tell me chicken is yucky.

I suppose you could say that in the last year his personality has simply continued to expand along with his physical dimensions.  He knows what he likes and what he wants and he's happy to tell you.  He recognizes when people are sad.  He has a sense of humor and laughs at funny faces and funny noises.  Sometimes we play a game where he says "Heyyyyyyy Mama!" and I say back something random instead of his name, like "Heyyyyyyyy bathtub!"  And he says, "Bathtub?!  Hah!"  Simple pleasures.

I will admit that we did not achieve all the goals I had set for this past year.  In fact we only hit one of them--moving into the big boy bed.  But we'll get to the others soon.  Sooooon.  And he does love his bed, though it took a few days.  

Anyway, he's just a funny and fun boy with lots of energy and lots of interests.  He loves to read books and make silly faces.  Also loves to watch Charlie and Lola and he also got to see a few movies this year (Tangled, Winnie the Pooh and Peanuts) and he still talks about all of them.  He's gotten into music lately too, asking for Lion King and Tangled ("Prepunzel") a lot, but also Princess and the Frog (Tiana) or sometimes the crab (Little Mermaid--I only have "Kiss the Girl" on my iPod...).  I love to see what he gravitates to, though you could say he just gravitates towards fun things in general.

Who needs eggs when you have golf balls?

 Like Baby:

This is a pretty good representation of their relationship actually.  Buddies, with no respect for personal space.  Lately he has been walking her around the house by the hand and trying to get her to make her own funny faces.  She has picked up a few from him as well.  If she's sad in the car he'll talk to her and say "We almost home, Baby.  It's okay, Baby."

'80s style

This was his flower sniffing stance for a while.  ??

He always pauses during a walk to sit in a "little nest."

I'm just amazed at how he's changed and the things he picks up on and understands now.  I love how enthusiastic he is when he says, "Oh!  I know what we can do!  Shall we go outside?!"  And I love when his eyes turn into half-moons with excitement.

(Still loves Kitty too.) 

Not to say that this year was without its bumps.  Like the rejection of potty training and of course the teeth incident.  He's had some epic meltdowns too.  But after all, he is still a pretty little person.  

But even during the meltdowns or when he wants me to move his water for him at bedtime (or tuck Kitty in or adjust his blankets or put his book in the right place or put his car UNDER the blankets or decides his jammies are "too hot.  Too hot, mama." etc. etc. etc.), he is just the best.  I'm looking forward to seeing what my favorite three year old has in store for the coming year.

Intrepid explorer. 

It's going to be good!