My first birth story, parts 6-10.

Before I continue on, here is the link to part 1-5 in case you missed it.

6. Prior to getting my epidural, I wavered quite heavily throughout my pregnancy if I wanted one or not. Would it make me weak? Could I be brave enough to endure the pain of a natural delivery? I admittedly (and quite stupidly, in retrospect) felt some guilt about it all, though I didn’t really have my mind made up about any of it as I went in for my induction. Once I discovered that ALL of my labour would be felt in my back, and that ALL of my delivery would essentially have to happen while laying on said back, however, it was a choice I could have not made. My doula helped cement the decision for me. But guess what? I’m pretty sure it ended up being the best decision of my LIFE. After I got my epidural, I got to SLEEP. It was GLORIOUS. Thankfully, it didn’t slow things down labour wise, and considering the time I have birth at (11:58PM — after a looooong day), it gave me one last chance to sleep before becoming a mother. It was absolutely, 100% what I needed to do, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The humor in this one is that I almost gave up liquid GOLD for the sake of silly ideals. I am so very thankful I didn’t. 

Lesson learned: you’re about to have a friggin’ baby, that is anything BUT weak. Do what you have to do.

7. I awoke from the epidural around 11PM. Tests and what not were done to establish if it was time to push, and around 11:45 I was given the go to. I couldn’t really feel when to push with my contractions, however, so I kinda had to wing it and try whenever my nurse said to. My first three tries at pushing were a bit of a learning curve mess mess, and on the fourth try I heard someone mention they were starting to see O’s head. Woo! At this point, I was told to push again as my main nurse and her mentee turned towards the baby monitor devices to see how it was effecting O. With D and my Douala next to me, I gave it a really big go… aaaaand out popped 75% of my son with NO ONE ready or expecting to see him quite yet. Both my nurses then turned quickly towards O and yelped at me to stop (uh, I can’t feel a damn thing! How the heck do I stop?!) but thankfully the charge nurse who was making her rounds dashed across the room to catch him as he was born. It happened so fast that my dreamy OBGYN didn’t even have time to show up for the delivery! In the end, all was well, and after twenty years on the job, my son was the first baby that nurse got to catch. I supposedly made her whole career.

Lesson learned: these hips were made for birthing babies?! Or, rather, like all things so far in motherhood, expect the unexpected.

8. Once out of the delivery room and into our recovery/over night room, things were a blur. We ended up staying in the hospital for five days as O needed a lot of testing done. I would amusingly go on to realize that so much of the shit I packed for my stay was, uh, COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY. It’s my fault for reading about 9759756 different hospital bag articles before hand that listed all the stuff I should bring. I kid you not, some of the shit our suitcase had in it: battery operated candles (to help dim the room, lolz), a rolling pin (for D to ghetto massage away my pain during labour), fancy magazines from Chapters that we spent far too much money on (to read during ALL the time we had… hah), Gatorade (to refresh my electrolytes during delivery or some shit), a hairdryer (to do my hair afterwards amidst my pure and utter delusion), a bag of 93485934597 quarters (for a vending machine I’m pretty sure they didn’t even have), my birth plan (which was too overwhelming for me to even think about and consider when shit got real)… it goes on and on, and every time I needed something out of that damn suitcase over those five days I had to move all that other not needed crap and I pretty much wanted to cut a bitch. 

Lesson learned: the internet is *still* full of LIES.

9. Once home (btw, I drove us to AND from the hospital, /flex), I decided to weigh myself. Why not? Before continuing, know that I had gestational diabetes during my pregnancy. It’s why I had to be induced in the first place, and it limited a lot of what I could and could not eat during my pregnancy. Quite frankly, it was a giant pain in the ass for the second half of O’s gestation. Upon weighing myself once I got home from the hospital, however, I weighed less than I did before I ever got pregnant. Maybe having GD wasn’t so bad! With the occasional walks we’ve been taking and breastfeeding, I have continued to loose since and I kind of don’t ever want to stop BF as a result, lol. I weigh less now than I have in years (I didn’t expect this to happen with motherhood) and I will GLADLY take it. Thanks, O! 

Lesson learned: women’s bodies are an amazing thing, and the narrative of extra baby weight hanging around after one gives birth does not apply to all. Other weight, however, is a different story!

10. After unpacking and settling back into our home life, it was scary. We had just spent five days in a controlled environment (our hospital room) with continual and professional help on hand in case anything went wrong. That space in BC Women’s/Children’s became our little cocoon, and to leave it to the real world with a REAL LIFE CHILD was… overwhelming, exciting and terrifying. We came home and basically tried to recreate in our bedroom what we had made work for us in that hospital room, and we proceeded to stay in our bedroom and ONLY there, just leaving to get food, for about the next week and a half. We had to, and you could say that we were a bit shell-shocked and a WHOLE lot unsure. To this day I still find remnants of those memories in that room… Splashes of dried, pumped breast-milk I missed cleaning up by our bed, papers and notes when D thought it was crucial we track every ounce O ate [this was back when he would only take a bottle] and a burping cloth that got lost in the madness and shoved underneath the bed, only to be found months later. A part of me laughingly shudders at it all like that of a war wounded PTSD. Eventually, we learned to reuse our whole space as the family we became, and, in it we have thrived. For the most part.

Lesson learned: while life changingly beautiful, having a baby is scary, and it’s okay to be scared. In times of such darkness, light will be born.

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I enjoyed writing these, and I hope you enjoyed reading them! Hopefully it gave you a chance to reflect on the humourous moments of your birth story, or perhaps think about the one you may one day have.

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My first birth story, parts 1-5.

It is my first Mother’s Day. I’ve had a lot of time to ‘do me’ today, thanks to my wonderful husband and son, and with it has come some much needed opportunities to think. In that thinking, I’ve been reflecting on O’s birth story and how he came to be. While full of gushy, wonderful moments, the experience of my pregnancy, birth and becoming a mom had so many humorous aspects to it. These aspects keep me smiling and laughing months later, and from them I have learned so much. Lessons that I feel are prudent to think about and mention these many moons later.

Here are the first five of ten. Enjoy!

1. During O’s gestation, it was noticed in an ultrasound that he had short femurs. As a result, I had to have monthly scans to ensure things were normal (I seriously have 25+ ultrasound photos of him, it got a little intense). Additionally, his short femur issue required our family be seen by the Maternal Fetal Medicine specialists at BC Children’s to be briefed and guided throughout his development. However, the specialists at MFM are super nerdy and can’t really take a joke, ever, both D and I tried. But guess who was laughing when O came out of my womb with perfectly, if not LONG, sized femurs? 

Lesson learned: sometimes, doctors and medical professionals know NOTHING. That nothingness can be infuriatingly hilarious at times.

2. My OBGYN was quite possibly one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever met. His hair was flowing and looked out of a modeling shoot, when not on call he walked around with a bomber jacket on top of his scrubs (seriously) and carried all his papers in an *on point* leather messenger bag, and he was extremely attentive and caring. Anyone we mentioned him to at the hospital seemed to be madly in love with him and whenever he was there, he’d create a tizzy. Much to their loss, however, as our Douala later told us he was very happily gay and had humorously broken many, if not dozens, of the newer nurses hearts thus far. 

Lesson learned: gay guys are *still* pretty much the best ever.

3. O was breech a week and a half prior to my induction date. That caused quite the concern for me, ’cause it meant a c-section if he didn’t shift. In a desperate attempt to get him to move, D and I resorted to trying some pretty silly shit. One of them was me laying diagonally on an ironing board, head on the ground and with my feet up in the air… as my boobs smooshed my face and desperately tried to kill me. Another involved acupuncture and these things called moxie sticks, which were essentially rounded, long pieces of charcoal that we lit. After being lit, I was then prescribed to hoover them around my baby toes (yes, you read that right) for ten minutes to release their energy or some crap. I have never felt so friggin’ silly in my life, and poor D was in charge of helping me through this task — one which we didn’t know whether to cry or laugh through. O ended up flipping, however, and no c-section had to happen. 

Lesson learned: sense and logic tell you otherwise, but sometimes that naturopathy crap actually works! Or it serves as a good placebo for helping you think you made a difference. One of the two. :>

4. The day prior to my induction date I experienced a sudden increase of fluid draining (sorry for the TMI, that’s about as un-gross as I could put it). We were asked to come to the hospital to see if my water had broken and after a few hours, learned that it hadn’t. All throughout the nurses trying to figure that out, however, they kept asking me if I was having contractions. Nope, I told them, just the occasional back cramps (which no one, including myself, seemed to question). Eventually we were sent back home, but all that night as I slept I kept regularly having those back cramps. I’d literally wake up and have to do controlled breaths to get through them. But I still didn’t put two and two together. The next day and many hours later, when I was measured prior to the induction starting to see what method they were take, I was already 3cms dilated… ‘CAUSE THOSE WERE FRIGGIN’ CONTRACTIONS HAPPENING, YOU GOOF. Turns out, just like how it is with my period, I would go on to feel everything that happened in my labour in my back. 

Lesson learned: the idiocy of mommy brain sets in well BEFORE you ever give birth.. and likely never, ever goes away.

5. Once I got into the pains of active labour, all of which was back labour that I had to unfortunately and mostly lay on my back to endure (long story as to why), I reached a point of pain with no return. An epidural absolutely had to happen. When getting it, however, I was already using laughing gas (something they give you in delivery rooms in Canadian hospitals). I don’t exactly recall all the specifics that went into the epidural coming to be, as a result, and when they started asking me questions to gauge if they had given me a proper dosage, I couldn’t even think straight. Busily sucking down the laughing gas as if it was my last breath, they rubed pieces of ice down my preggo belly while asking me questions to gauge the effectiveness. Could I feel the ice? High as shit, I thought by feel they meant just the wetness, not the coldness. Incorrect! So, these poor dr’s kept confusingly trying to figure out why I was still using the gas to get through my contractions like my life depended it, even though I had the epidural. They kept asking me things my dumb brain couldn’t process, but eventually two and two came together and I was finally/happily delivered to planet numb, not able to feel both the wetness AND coldness. 

Lesson learned: it is probably best in life to generally stop one drug before starting the next. :>

If you’d like to read the second part of this series, here is the link.

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A canvas for watching darkness and light.

Oh man, I’m totally nerding out right now. With O, I try my best to practice something called mindful parenting (more commonly known as RIE). I discovered it in school and putting it to use now makes so much wonderful, heart-happy sense to me. Anyways, I follow a FB parent group of parents who share a similar interest in RIE and people often post to it sharing their observations, struggles and/or triumphs. Yesterday, I posted this to it’s wall and a lot of people loved it… but not only that, one of the main ‘flag bearers’ of RIE these days, Janet Lansbury, liked it and asked if she could share. UM, YES! Our little guy is now famous, lol! Or my whimsical shenanigans are. One of the two.

Observe, wait, trust, and enjoy! A lovely example of the power of nature… indoors!

Sarah shared her success:

“Thank you, RIE! Five minutes before taking this photo I was thinking to myself that I needed to find something to fill this space in my LO’s room. I then noticed him looking at it too, however, and realized he was intently watching the shadows dance across the wall from the swaying trees outside the window. Before, I might have thought him bored, but for forty five minutes he kept coming back to the sight, becoming very still as he watched the moving shapes and silhouettes bounce across the wall. Eventually, the sun moved on and as did his interest… but it seems this space already has exactly what it needs: a canvas for watching darkness and light.”

Here’s a link for those on Facebook.

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You bought WHAT now?

I don’t know why I do it, ’cause it’s sure to drive me insane, but I’ve been keeping a running list of all the shit we’ve bought so far to help this child sleep. Sleep better than what little (LIIIIITTLE) efforts he makes on his own, that is. At just five months old, this list is inevitably going to get longer, but this is where it stands right now. Also, to the person who told me having a baby doesn’t cost a lot of money, I VETO YOU.

Without further adieu and so that you may weep with me, I give you our list of OH GOD PLEASE HELP HIM SLEEP SO WE CAN SLEEP purchases thus far…

Sleep Suits:
– Swaddleme swaddlers, small and large: These worked for us for a bit, thankfully, but why the hell would you not make a size medium? We went from them being snug and then to him swimming in them, effectively negating any use they had whatsoever. Awesome!
– Sleep sacks: Access to his hands was a shit show. He thought it was party time. Adorable, CHILD IT IS TIME TO SLEEP, party time.
– Love to Dream suit: Hilarious looking in it (he looked like a dog bone!), horrible in concept. He kept hitting himself in the face, lololol.
– Zipadeezip: I think we’ve FINALLY transitioned from the Swaddleme to this. Almost. Most definitely almost. Like, 95%. Also, the one he has is made with fabric that has a forest on it, ’cause of course.

(Note: There are literally 46864 different sleep suits on the market. I very easily could have bought more and almost did, but I had to stop myself. The zippadeezip alone cost me $70 CND (!!!!) to make happen and shit was getting out of control at that point, no matter how desperate I felt.)

Swings:
– Fisher-Price 4-in-1 Rock ‘n Glide Soother (note: this is much different than the Rock n’ Play, which is evidently amazing but sadly isn’t available in Canada): I don’t care what the reviews say, this thing was HORRIBLE. O was mortified at it’s lack of effectiveness and so were we. Back to Walmart it went! We couldn’t even disassemble it. Stuck it in a shopping cart and returned it amidst a torrential rain storm. Haaa.
– Fisher-Price Rainforest Friends Cradle Swing: Loud, colors wise, motor wise and sound wise. Back to Walmart we once again! Possibly for reasons more my own than O’s. Jungles totally aren’t my thing. :>
– Fisher-Price Snugabunny Cradle’ N Swing: Yay! Quiet and nice, colours wise and features wise. O has slept in the cradle position of this every night for the past six weeks. We now need to start transitioning him out of it, however, which fills me anew with anxiety. Ack!

Other:
– Live Clean Baby Calming Bedtime Lotion + Bubble Bath and Wash: I like the smell, but I have no idea if it does shit all in terms of helping his sleep after his nightly bath time. I want to believe. I want to beliiiiiiieve.
– Super Soother Calming Sounds, Happiest Baby CD: Didn’t end up using as we downloaded a “pink noise” (I have no idea how that differs from white) song off YouTube that was better and went on for 8 hours. p.s. This album legit has tracks on it that sound straight out of slasher film. Calming my ass!
– Borrowed iPhone 3G: To play said pink noise “song” on repeat 478644 times in a row as O sleeps. We didn’t really buy it, but it needs to be said. We’d be lost without it. O immediately calms once it comes on and it’s pretty much become our baby voodoo box at this point.
– Logitech Multimedia Speaker: To ensure said pink noise song is loud enough. Block out the sound from the giant construction site next to us, please! Pretty pretty pretty please!
– Two boxes of tinfoil, 3 rolls of tape: To madly cover all the light coming into our 9823474 bedroom windows so there was legit darkness. Had it up for five weeks before management asked that it be taken down. Damn! It is now bright as hell in our bedroom. Double damn!

Stuff that was given to us:
– Co-sleeper bedside bassinet. Slept in it for two weeks and, uhm, never again. Desperately wanting this or his crib to be where we transition him into after the swing, but not filled with hope. I think our kid kinda hates sleeping flat on his back?

Or sleeping in general?

Or pretty much everything?

Yeah, that.

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I. Need. Him.

Speaking of needs, I came across a realization of sweetness the other day.

While on bed rest with that hurt foot (one which has now thankfully mended — mostly!), D stayed home from work so he could look after O. Like most babies his age, O likes to move and be up to see the world, no matter how much we try to encourage his independent back play (many, many, maaaany times a day). I wasn’t really able to give him all that he needed with not being able to walk, so D had to take over.

As D was thrust head first into the experience that is my everyday life with O (something which he admitted made him feel entirely overwhelmed — welcome to my life, hubs!), I re-experienced some of what my existence was like before O. Laying around for hours, perusing social media like it was going out of style, watching Netflix uninterrupted — the whole nine yards. However, if and when O wouldn’t calm for him, D would seek me holding him as a reprieve.

And, after one time of having not done everything and anything for my son for a few hours (a very rare occurrence), he was given to me to help settle and soothe.

Once in my arms, something clicked.

Something fell into place.

A part I didn’t know was missing was now there.

My heart became sappy happy and got this strange full feeling.

My god, I realized. It’s not just that this kid needs me. I need him.

I. Need. Him.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve adored O since he crawled out of my womb. But need him? I don’t recall when that came to be or grew into my being.

And so, he was hugged a bit tighter, squished a bit longer and nuzzled a bit closer before demanding his desires of movement and exploration be met yet again.

Dad, and son, to my rescue.

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