Sleeping

Emmet and Benjamin are completely in love with their cousin. Emmet likes to say, “Can I hold her, can I hold her?” every five minutes, which is a hassle because it involves a boppy and a couch with an arm. Benjamin likes to jump up and down and make silly faces, which sometimes, she responds to by stopping mid-cry in surprise at this new development.

Gracie has the widest, prettiest eyes in all the land. Sometimes, after her middle-of-the-night feeding, she’ll look up at me with those large, soulful eyes as if to say, “Well, we’re all up now, what should we do? Maybe a craft?” Cooing and smiling and my heart melts, even as I’m thinking, “Go back to sleep, child.” I’ve learned that I can rock her and put her back in her crib and she’ll cry a little bit and then go back to sleep. 

Sleeping is that thing one strives for as a new parent. So far (KNOCK ON WOOD), she's a great sleeper. Which makes me SOOO happy. Especially since this isn't always the case! My friend's daughter didn't sleep through the night until she was four! I told Gracie early on that she had to be a good sleeper. So far, she's listening.

Baby and I co-slept for the first couple months. Yes, we co-slept! While I’m normally a pretty athletic sleeper who will find myself on various sides of the bed in the middle of the night, I slept still as a rock every night she was in bed with me. I think it’s instinctual, the knowledge that there’s a tiny human next to you so the body tells itself, “don’t crush the tiny human!” I found that we both slept better when she was next to me because I could reach over and pat her if she fussed, and I could easily sit up and feed and change her. Occasionally, I'd put her on my tummy to cuddle her and help her fall asleep, and then I'd wake up a couple hours later, surprised that time had passed and she was still there, a little bundle on my tummy with her hands curled at my collar bone.

A few weeks ago, we started putting her in her crib to sleep. I didn’t sleep as well the first couple of nights, but now I sleep better because I’m not waking up every time she makes a tiny noise. I do have to tiptoe in to check that she’s still alive sometimes, though. Like when she slept for nine straight hours and I shot out of bed, completely terrified that she wasn't breathing. (She was).

Also. Shhh. She sleeps on her tummy. Her head is strong and she’ll whip it from side to side to get comfortable, but she sleeps really well on her tummy. So. Don’t tell anyone because this is against the rules.

Sleeping has gotten so much better and it’s no longer a matter of getting through each night and dreading them as they approach (knock on wood). So that’s nice for now. However, I hear tell that she’ll make a developmental leap at four months and will suck at sleeping well at night again so. I have that to look forward to. :)

I was supposed to go back Dec. 2 to start work. However, due to the fact that it’ll be really hard to go back to school three weeks before Christmas break when I’ll have to get the kids used to my routines only to start over again after Christmas, and the fact that my sub really wanted to finish the semester with the kids… I asked to extend my leave through Christmas. Which means I don’t go back until Jan. 6. Which is just marvelous because I get extra time with my kid and a little more sleep before I have to start making the commute to work again!

Also, apparently people at work are nervous about me and my commute. It’ll be fine. I love what I do and who I work with, and I love where I live. So I have to deal (with a 55 minute drive to work and back each day). People in California do it. I can do it. And I get lots of breaks as a teacher! I can do this!

Breast feeding... or not

Gracie is 10 weeks old now. She makes me feel happy and full and terrified and overwhelmed and at peace and petrified. You know. The feelings of being a mom. She’s in a tentative routine now that could change at any moment. She has been going to sleep these last couple of weeks between 7:30 and 9 p.m. and sleeping 6-8 hours before waking once and sleeping another 3-4 hours! The Internet says babies often sleep better when they’re bottle-fed. Oh yeah. She’s bottle-fed. It’s not because I didn’t want to breast feed. It’s because after she was born, I found out that my boobs were broken. 

I had a breast reduction at age 25. Not that you would notice because they got HUGE during pregnancy. Just so, so big. I remember the doctor who did the reduction saying she thought she had saved my milk ducts pretty well. I think maybe she saved like five of them or something (the Internet says each breast has 15-20 ducts). I wasn’t producing much colostrum and also, my nipples didn’t want to play nice. Gracie just couldn’t latch while in the hospital so the nurses made me pump every couple of hours to keep the milk flowing. 

Then began the saga of trying to breast feed. I tried getting her to latch, which involved many a session of me wrestling a screaming infant to my breast while mom assisted with positioning her on a pillow (did I say that my boobs were HUGE). I tried using a nipple guard, which is placed over the nipple that the infant should be able to suck on and through, but it always slipped and got dislodged. When I went to the baby’s first doctor’s visit after the hospital, the pediatrician asked me the same question every doctor liked to start with, “So how is breastfeeding going?” I told her I had had a breast reduction so it wasn’t going well so far. “Oh,” she said a little grimly. “I’ve been in this field for over 15 years and I have to say that only a handful of mothers who had surgery produced very much milk.” I teared up because it was heartbreaking to think I wouldn’t be one of those normal moms that breastfed and gave all their nutrients to their kids and decreased the risk of viruses and infections… All those things you learn about why you have to breast feed. She rushed on to say that it was OK to not breast feed, that my baby would still grow up perfectly fine and healthy, and she was sorry she’d put her foot in her mouth. Then she sent me home with about five cans of infant formula.

Two days after leaving the hospital, I attended a lactation support group. All the other moms sat there, their babies serenely suckling away in various holds at regular, modest sized breasts. Meanwhile, Mom and I wrestled a screaming baby to my pillow boobs, while trying to work with a nipple guard and a little tube of milk attached to my shirt, so that the baby would be sucking on something and learn to latch. The doctor walked around to check on the others, and then sat with me most of the time offering tips and advice. Mom and I were both sweaty and practically panting at the end and I left, traumatized and determined NEVER to go back. 

I continued to pump for the next few days (and put away the nipple guard and the stupid little tube thing). I only produced a couple tablespoons each time, which I added to Gracie’s bottle. There finally came a day when I said, “It’s OK to stop.”

I had to come to terms with not feeling like a failure as a woman and mother. And somehow not feeling guilty that I wasn’t giving my baby my life-giving milk. Then I talked to many women who had found that breast feeding wasn’t for them, or that they weren’t producing enough for their baby so they stopped. And I had to tell myself that it was OK to bottle feed. Plus, there are many benefits. My nipples aren’t sore. I can bring a bottle anywhere with me and not have to whip out a boob. I get more sleep at night. 

When Gracie woke up every couple hours, my mom routinely came to get her at 5 a.m. to give me a break and do her last feeding of the night, which made me feel not alone and safe because I had support. She’s better than a husband in some ways!

That first night out of the hospital, my parents went to bed and I sat there on the couch where I slept for the next couple of weeks (because I couldn’t sleep lying down yet due to the c-section). I stared at my newborn infant, who stared back at me with wide eyes, and I started crying because I was freaked out and scared and felt very alone that there was no one to share the burden with me, who had ownership in this with me. I wondered for the first time if I had made the right decision. Then my mom came down at around 2 a.m. and said she would take Gracie to bed with her and I worshiped at her feet in gratitude. I wasn’t alone. I have the best family in the world.

Hospital stay

Aug. 31

Saturday evening, Marla noticed that my urine was very dark brown. My blood pressure had also spiked a bit on the two readings they took. Two evening nurses, Lindsey and Danielle, came in to tell me that I had preeclampsia, that I would have to get magnesium through my IV for the next 24 hours, that I could not get out of bed because of a risk of seizures, and that I could not eat anything for the next day as well. I burst into tears. I had just eaten toast and soup earlier after not having been allowed to eat once I had the epidural, and I had already been confined to bed for 24 hours. 

Nathan had just walked in with a chicken sandwich and fries for me. 

“Can’t she have a quick bite?” Mom asked. 

“No, we have to start right away,” they said. The nurses were apologetic, because they had thought the doctor had already told me this information. I also had to stay an extra couple days, meaning I spent a total of five days at the hospital until the next Tuesday, 

Later, Lindsey came to tell me that after the first heavy dose of magnesium, if I did OK, the doctor said I could eat something. I threw up later and wasn’t interested in food until the next day anyway.

Danielle stayed with me during the day on Sunday, and Mom slept in the room with me at nights. It was so nice to have their support. Lots of people visited me. Danielle and her whole family came in, Tricia came from Westminster to see me, Johanna showed up, Chloe came to see me as well. I had a nurse named Molly that day who said she was going to boss me around a lot. She got me breast pumping regularly and made me breathe into the breathing apparatus that makes sure you don’t get pneumonia.

Early Sunday morning at around 5 a.m., I had Lindsey help give me a sponge bath so I would feel a little human. Then that evening when she was back, I had her help me to the edge of the bed and I waited until 8:30, which is when they stopped the magnesium and I was allowed to get out of bed. She and Danielle took out my catheter, then Lindsey had to help me up; my legs were crazy wobbly, and she helped me to the bathroom for the first time in two days.

Danielle wanted to get back to work, so she arranged several friends to come visit me on Monday! Jenny Sparks came for a few hours, followed by Chloe and Saja Hindi. It was amazing. When Jenny showed up,  Danielle arrived a few minutes later. They started making my bed and pulling out baby clothes. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Surprise!” Danielle said. “I thought we could do baby photos so I told Jenny to bring her camera!” We dressed you in different outfits and posed you while Jenny took the most precious photos.

When Saja and Chloe arrived, I was still sleeping, but they sat and held the baby while I slept for awhile. Emily was my nurse this day. She was another very special lady who took good care of me and even asked to re-wash Gracie’s hair. (Someone had given her a bath the day before, but she still had matted blood in her hair). Emily washed her, changed her, and put her hair in a mohawk style that lasted all week until I finally gave her a sponge bath. 

On Tuesday, I had the day to myself while I waited to be discharged. My nurse, Amy, did the paperwork and loaded me up with supplies, formula and bottles and diapers and wipes. After one last check from the doctor around 4:30 pm., I took Gracie home!! And I can’t believe she’s mine! And now our adventure together begins.

Having Gracie

At around 3 a.m. on Friday, Aug. 30, I went to the bathroom and felt some additional fluid come down my legs. I remember standing frozen in the bathroom for awhile, unable to decide whether I should call the hospital or not. It seemed terribly inconvenient to wake everyone up (my family) in the middle of the night if it wasn’t a real thing. The Internet said that amniotic fluid would pool if it was really that. So I went back to sleep. I woke up later, and felt more fluid. I called the clinic (which is attached to the hospital) who asked me to come in to check to see if it was amniotic fluid. 

I went upstairs to tell my mom I had to go to the hospital just to check to see if my water had broken. 

She said sleepily, “Ok, you don’t need me to drive you, do you?” 

“... No, I’ll be fine. I might be back in a half hour!” I told her. I wasn’t even having contractions. 

I arrived at around 7:30 a.m. and a nurse named Marla did the test. “Congratulations, your water has broken,” she said after a few minutes. “You’ll be staying here!” Gracie just couldn’t wait until that evening, which is when I was scheduled to be induced at 7 p.m. She had to decide things in your own time table.

I started texting and calling people to let everyone know. I had also sent Danielle a text the night before with the contacts of the people I wanted to be updated. She acted as my communication liaison to let people know updates. 

The nurses admitted me, put me in a room, and started me on low doses of pitocin about an hour later. They still started the induction process since I wasn’t having contractions yet. They started with 2 milligrams an hour and then increased it every half hour until it reached 20. That was much later in the evening. Heavy contractions didn’t start for hours. In the meantime, Mom and Danielle arrived with Emmet. We spent the morning stuffing envelopes for Mom’s 70th birthday party in a month, which the nurse observed with amusement when she came to check on me. I had light contractions but could talk through them. Marla became my “labor nurse” for the afternoon. “This is what we call pre-labor,” she said, observing us all chat and laugh. Later that afternoon, contractions got heavier. I walked around a bit and I leaned on an exercise ball at the end of the bed. Mom had gone to get food and Dad sat on the couch watching me pant through contractions that had gotten much more painful. “You’re leaking,” he observed solemnly. “Then get me a towel!” I panted. Marla said I had now reached “active” labor. They avoided checking my cervix yet though because of risk of infection since my water had broken. 

Eventually, I got an epidural. Marla had me lean over a pillow on the edge of the bed. She held my shoulders and gently told me it was OK, to hold still… as the anesthesiologist inserted the needle into my back. It hurt, but not as bad as I thought it would. Now, I was confined to bed. 

That night was VERY long. I met my night nurse, Lindsey. She was on that night and for the next three, since she had the Labor Day holiday. I would feel OK for awhile, and then would want to change positions. My low right back started hurting but when I’d move to a side, the epidural would work on one side of my body but not the other (gravity!) so I’d be hurting until I changed positions again. It was hard to be comfortable all night. Mom and Danielle slept in the room until Mom had had enough. There was only a hard couch and a chair so Danielle stretched out on the couch and Mom slept upright on the chair until the middle of the night, when she announced, “I’m going to sleep in the car!” I was so hoping to have the baby that night, but it just didn’t happen. 

In the morning on Saturday, Aug. 31, they checked my cervix and found I was fully effaced and my cervix was complete on one side but not the other. Basically the baby’s head was lodged to one side of my cervix. Marla was back with me that day. Even though she was charge nurse, she requested to have me again since she had started with me. The doctor said we should use this red peanut exercise ball between my legs and I should rotate from side to side every half hour to move the baby into position. They did that for a couple hours. Finally, around noon, I started feeling the intense need to push that they had been waiting for. 

Marla told me that during each contraction, I should push for 10 seconds as hard I could, then relax, and do it again twice more. I pushed for three hours, and was so tired and exhausted by the end of it. In the middle of that time, they had me stop and do a “breathing treatment” because the doctor could hear me wheezing quite a bit. I had to breathe some medication through a tube. After three hours, my doctor (Ellie Coonrod) told me I had three choices. My baby’s head was stuck behind my pelvis and seemed unwilling to move around it to come out. 1. I could continue to push and see what happened (even though I hadn’t made progress in an hour). 2. She could try suctioning or forceping the baby out (she didn’t think she’d have much success with my baby though) or 3. They could do a c-section. 

I was waiting for that one. I wanted an out. I was done pushing. They prepped me for surgery and Danielle came into the operating room with me. C-sections are weird because you don’t feel anything, except your body being jerked around. After around 30 minutes, they asked Danielle to get her camera ready and she took pictures as Gracie was pulled from my belly. They lowered the sheet so I could see her looking all gooey and bloody. Danielle and I both started sobbing. They cleaned her up and put her near my head. I cried and she just laid there, blinking her little eyes.

Something weird happened as she was lifted out of my tummy where I suddenly was having a very hard time breathing, like my lungs were collapsing. I started panting and wheezing and panicking. The nurse told me to breathe, just breathe, and I was like, “I can’t!” I tried coughing and couldn’t even complete a cough. My sister said she felt the same during her c-section. Eventually the feeling went away. They sewed me up and I was wheeled back to my room. They put Gracie on my chest and I got to hold her! I cried so much.

Gracie was born on Saturday, Aug. 31, 2019, at 4:12 p.m. at Banner Health Center in Fort Collins, about 31 hours after I’d started pitocin Friday morning. She was 8 pounds 11.5 ounces and 21.5 inches long. As the nurses pulled her out, they exclaimed at her full head of hair and how big she was. To me, Gracie was so tiny and precious, but all that hair! It was amazing!