Cyprus' Birth Story

This is a birth story. It's long, because my labor was long, and it's got some gross details. Consider yourself warned!

Driving home from my 39 week midwife appointment Friday, 9/20, I received an awesome text from a good college friend:

S: "This might be abrupt and to the point, but are you really going to eat the placenta?"

me: "More or less."

S: "Well, which is it? More or less?"

me: "Lol have you been talking to Dalton?"

me: "They put it in pills, so not like a steak."

S: "Like vitamins"

me: "Yes"

S: "So when are you going to pop? Soon?"

me: "Tonight?"

Thursday 9/19 was the big harvest full moon. I caught a glimpse of the moon rise the night before, and didn't want to miss it in its full glory on Thursday. I texted the hubby that morning "walk tonight? Full moon might kick me into labor." "Sure." He wrote back. I got home from work Thursday, and the hubby had made dinner. We ate and hung out watching tv for a bit. My mom called, and I spoke with her, she was calling frequently to see if I was in labor yet, and if she should book her plane ticket up for after the birth. She also liked to keep me updated on the family guesses for birthday. She asked Dave for his bet on the day, and him not being into that sort of thing at all, shrugged his shoulders. I relayed to her that he didn't care. She made him pick a day, so he said "the 22nd." When I hung up with my mom, it was a little after 7pm, and I knew we had to get out walking so we could see the rise from the eastern horizon. We gathered up the dog, and I waddled my way out the door to a beautiful fall evening. It was nearly all the way dark, and as we turned left down the block, we were struck with a huge moon rising. It was amazing. We walked (slowly) in the moonlight for a few blocks before returning home.

When I got home, I got ready for bed and fell asleep fast. I woke up in the middle of the night to go pee, and when I rolled over to get out of bed, I felt a trickle of fluid leaving me. Dismissing it, because, well, for the past 10 months my body has been doing things that I don't recognize, or that aren't usual, so I went pee and returned to bed noting the time (2 am), thinking simply, "if that was my water, I'd be having contractions." I wasn't having any contractions.

I woke up on Friday 9/20 and got ready for work as usual. I still had a "trickly" feeling going on, but again- in pregnancy I don't know what is "normal" and what isn't. I decided against paging my midwife to ask since I had an appointment at 5:00pm later that day anyway, and shot an email to my doula when I got to work. My doula had just sent me a PDF on "labor stages" so I wrote back to her what was going on, and that I had an appointment at 5:00pm, should I page sooner? She said it would be fine to wait as long as I didn't start having regular contractions. At that point, I still had no "signs" of early labor- no show, only a few braxton hicks here and there. I was however starting to believe that my water was broken. I worked a normal day, bounced on my yoga ball, we had catered BBQ at work (my favorite!!!) and on the inkling that I might not be returning on Monday, I made sure to finish up all the last little loose ends and bring home anything I might need.

I left work and drove to my midwife appointment. Traffic was miserable. Fridays are usually bad, but this was exceptional. I arrived a few minutes late to my appointment. I sat down on the couch in the exam room, and said "I think my water might be broken, but I'm not sure." This got the attention of both the midwives in the office, and before I knew it, I was being poked and prodded. The test for amniotic fluid is a little archaic, but pretty awesome too. Basically, they take a sample of the fluid (same way they do a pap smear) and put some of the fluid onto a glass slide. The slide has to dry completely, and then examined under a microscope for "ferning" so it takes about 10 minutes. I asked about the test strips they make, but my midwife said they were really inaccurate.

So, as we waited for the slide to dry, I got my blood pressure taken, pulse taken, and questions about any contractions. We also talked about various scenarios that could take place in the next few hours- days. First off, if it was aminiotic fluid, they give me 3 days to start labor on my own before they have to induce. Since it had already been over half a day since I noticed the fluid, I felt like I was running out of time. I did not want to be induced! Next thing is that my blood pressure was coming back on the high end. My entire pregnancy, things had been good, and now, higher numbers were making my midwife nervous. She sampled my pee for protein and told me warning signs for pre-eclempsia. At that time, the other midwife returned stating it was amniotic fluid, and we were now counting down. They decided to do a non-stress test to check on baby, so I was hooked up to monitors for 20 minutes while they did that. Test came back great. Another shot at taking my BP, and things had improved slightly. My midwife said that I needed to go home and rest, and come back tomorrow (Saturday 9/21) for another non-stress test and BP check, unless I went into labor over night.

I texted a few friends and the hubby about what was going on. I told the hubby to stay at work that night, because nothing was happening yet. I just kept thinking "is this it? Am I going to go into labor soon?" I went to bed at 8pm, somehow I was able to quiet my brain enough to get a restful sleep until I had to wake up to pee. Upon using the rest room, I wiped and was greeted with the notorious "show." I went back to sleep since I still wasn't having contractions, but I knew I was going to be in labor soon. I woke up wide awake at 5:30am, and feeling super rested and energized, I decided to get out of bed. I felt my first contraction at 6am, and began timing them. When I had determined that I was contracting about every 15 minutes, I texted my mom and told her that it was finally an acceptable time to book her flight up. "What's going on?" She wrote back. I responded simply "labor, duh." A little while later, the hubby woke up and I told him what was going on. He made the call into work, and thus began his one week off of work. I showered, got ready, and we headed to the midwife for my 10 am non-stress test and more BP readings.

The hubby and I arrived at the midwives office, and I told her all my good news- contractions had finally began and I was seeing "show". She was excited by this news, took my blood pressure which turned out to be great, and then hooked me up to the non-stress test. Baby's heart beat looked great, and a few of my contractions were showing up on the ticker tape. She watched me through my contractions and said "I'll be seeing you later today." We left her office to get some food in me and rest at home. Immediately upon leaving her office, it felt as though my contractions kicked into over drive. Being in the car on the way home, every bump in the road was cursed. We arrived home around 11:30am, and Dave made breakfast. Almost immediately after eating, my contractions became distracting to the point where I needed Dave to apply counter pressure to my lower back, or squeeze my hips. He was great. It was at that moment I began to get a glimpse of what I was in for, and these were only the 30 second ramp-up contractions. I still had a ways to go before I was allowed to go to the birth center, and even farther before the dreaded "transition."

Working as a team, we were managing the contractions as they came. In between contractions, Dave would be tidying up, or putting together last minute snacks for the birth center. He would drop whatever he was doing and come push on my back when I started to moan. Timing contractions with an iPhone app is a joke. I mean, really? You have to press a button when they start, and then again when they stop, and that's fine if your phone doesn't sleep in between, let alone having the presence of mind to remember to hit start or stop!  At one point I decided I wanted to try a contraction on all fours, leaning over my headboard to see if that was more manageable. I got into bed on my hands and knees, and as a contraction hit, I felt a crazy feeling, then a warm gush. I jumped up yelled "aaahhh" and ran to the bathroom. The contraction must have moved the baby to allow a gush of water and other stuff to come out. I felt like things were progressing, so I had the hubby page the midwife. It was around 1:30p at this time. When she called back, she listened to me go through a contraction, and I told her they were about 3 minutes apart, but only lasting 30 seconds. She suggested I call my Doula over, and labor with her until contractions reached a full minute, with similar spacing.

Hubby called our Doula, and she arrived at the house at 2:30p. It was a beautiful sunny fall day. We had our back doors open, and I was just sitting on the end of the couch, facing the outside with the fresh air and sunshine blowing in. Maria, our Doula is amazing. She brought a TENS unit with her, and immediately put it on my back to help me get through the contractions, and to give Dave a little break. The TENS unit immediately relaxed/distracted me perfectly through contractions. For the next 3 hours, I worked through contractions with the hubby, and guidance from Maria. She was timing contractions, and when they got to be about 45 seconds long, 3 minutes apart, we paged the midwife to see if we could head to the birth center. The only thing I wanted to do was jump into the giant tub and soak.

The three of us (Maria, hubby, and myself) arrived at the birth center before my midwife. Since the birth center is unstaffed, we had no way of getting inside.   I couldn't stand sitting in the car, contractions were sucking big time at this point- they were all consuming.   I was slowly slipping into my own world just to cope and keep a rhythym.   After about 20 minutes in the parking lot (seemed MUCH longer) I had to use the restroom so bad.   By some crazy miracle, an intern for the birth center showed up to get some stuff done, and was able to let us in. My only focus was on restroom. She asked me what birthing suite I wanted, and I somehow coherently (but probably not nicely) told her to ask the hubby to pick. Once I emerged from the bathroom, I was greeted to the site of my midwife and the hubby leading us to what would be our birth suite for the next 13 hours.

The room was the size of a large bedroom. It was decorated somewhat modern, with beige walls, a king size platform bed, low couches, and lots of great light. I saw the tub, and asked "can I get in?" "Let's get you checked out first, while we fill the tub" my midwife said. I laid on the bed and she was happy to find that I was 6cm and proclaimed that my cervix was amazing. I guess that meant it was doing whatever it was supposed to be doing. Once she was done, I practically ripped off the rest of my clothes (all modesty was gone at this point, and if you know me, that says A LOT) and dove head first into the tub. OMG- it was amazing. Exactly what I hoped it would be. I got comfortable, and let the contractions come as they pleased. I didn't fight anything and slipped into my head. I knew I was making crazy moaning noises, these served a few purposes for me- allowed me to announce when I was having a contraction, distracted me with the sounds, kept a rhythym going, and because I didn't know what else to do. Maria and the hubby sat by my side at the edge of the tub for hours while I went through transition. Transition was nothing at all what I thought it would be like. I expected to get sick like many women do. I expected to have vocalizations of not being able to do it. Instead, I was entirely inside myself. Unaware of time, or anything outside of my body. I do remember after about 3 hours of me being in the tub, my midwife wanting to check to see if I was fully dialated yet. She was able to check me in the tub, and found that I was 9.5cm. This surprised her because she hadn't seen me make any pushing moves/sounds. She said I was too relaxed, and that I would need to try a new position to dialate the rest of the way and start pushing. I believe it was around 10pm at this point. 

Here is where things got nuts. I got out of the tub and onto a birth stool. I did not like the birth stool like I thought I would. It was not relaxing for me, and I felt like it would hinder the baby from coming out. While on the birth stool, they did a baby heart rate check with the doppler and found that the heart rate was a little low for what they liked. They asked me to move to the bed and lay on my side. I got up and layed on the bed. The midwife checked me again and found that my cervix had vanished, it was time to push. Except, I wasn't feeling pushy.  At all.  She suggested on the next contraction, I direct my push towards where she was putting pressure inside me. I did that, and was met with a lot of praise. "Excellent, you just moved your baby down a bunch. We need to keep this up." The assisting midwife held my right leg and bent it at the hip as much as it would go, and my Doula had the left side. The hubby was laying on the bed next to me feeding me water between pushes, and keeping a wet wash cloth on my forehead. I was sweating like crazy. I hated the pushing. Once again, something that surprised me about this experience. I thought I would love pushing, as I could feel the progress and something different than contractions. This was not the case. Mostly because I was under the impression that at some point my body would just take over, and do its thing. Rather, I had to initiate every push, and even though they were incredibly effective, I was laying down and did not have the aid of gravity to secure my progress. Every baby heart rate check was good, so they really wanted me to stay on my side. My legs were restless, this was not how I wanted to be pushing! One of my main reasons for choosing midwife care is because I wanted to be mobile in labor. I wanted to stand, squat, be on all fours, whatever felt best. I finally worked up the energy to leave my head and ask if I could move positions. They suggested I get on all fours and hang onto the headboard. I had a few pushes in that position, and again, I was met with a dropping heart rate, and pushes that weren't as effective, defying gravity. I heard mumblings of "maybe short cord?" and "contractions are not long enough".  I caught a glimpse of the clock and realize Saturday had come and gone, it was now Sunday 9/22. 

 

I just focused on the sweating, and the annoyance from every 15 minute BP checks, and every 10 min baby heart rate checks. I was exhausted and just wanted my body to take over. This went on for 6 hours. The hubby was in and out of sleep while I was struggling in my head to remember why I thought this would be a good idea. It wasn't painful, it was just mentally exhausting. I kept hearing they could see the baby's head and that I was so close. There finally reached a time when the baby's head was very low and visible at all times, the midwife said to me "you've been pushing for 6 hours. You need to get this baby out, or we need to transfer to a hospital." I could feel a baby coming out of my vagina. There was no way I was moving anywhere. The midwife suggested we move back to the birth stool to use gravity to get the baby to crown, and ultimately, out. The midwife informed me that once the head was out, I might have problems with the shoulders, and if that was the case, they would move me to all fours again to get the shoulders out (Gaskin manuever). That nearly destroyed my spirit. Since the baby took/was taking so long to descend, I had plenty of time to stretch out and get used to each new phase of pain. The body is an amazing thing. My midwife commented that she would be very surprised if I tore at all. That made me feel good. I moved to the birth stool again, and Dave was behind me supporting me so I could lean back and hold onto his legs. Things moved very quickly once on the birth stool.

I kept feeling more and more burning/stretching to the point where I kept thinking "how is this baby not crowning yet?!" Finally I heard my midwife announce his crown, and then not very much later, his head was out. I thought there would be massive relief after the head, but it was only slightly better. The next thing I knew, the entire birth team was instructing me to push like mad, don't stop, keep with it...and then I felt the biggest relief/rush of my life. I knew exactly what had just happened, and I looked down to see a mix of blue baby, red blood, A LOT of blood, and big testicles hanging out. "Its a booooyyyy" I exclaimed. I felt the hubby relax and begin to cry with raw emotion over the whole experience. I'm sure some of the tears were pure joy for a baby boy. He really wanted a boy (what guy doesn't?). I was on cloud nine. I immediately stood up and made my way to the bed where I laid down and baby boy was handed to me. He had the biggest cone head I'd ever seen, but his eyes were wide open looking at me. He was warm and the softest thing I'd ever felt. He smelled incredible- better than puppy paws, and was seriously amazing, all encompassing, distracting, and I couldn't stop staring at him. I did it! I thought. I really did it. I can't believe I just did it. With the hubby laying next to me, we spent the next 20 minutes fawning over our new baby, trying to decide what to name him, counting his fingers and toes, and just in total bliss. The midwives commented on what a big baby he was.  I had no concept of that, I just knew I loved him.  They were guessing at least 9 lbs.  I couldn't stop thinking about how lucky I was. How much I love my husband, and this new little thing that I just met. I mean, everyone says their babies are perfect immediately upon birth, but really, how can that be true?  It is. Some evolutionary shit or something, but it's true.

I still had some work to do, I needed to deliver the placenta, and get baby boy to latch on. I was a little nervous about the placenta, because I could already feel things swelling up, and all my pushing muscles were so exhausted.   I was also informed that I would need a few stitches because of the quickness he came out once I was on the birth stool.  My midwife instructed me that when I felt a cramp, to give just a slight push. She said "you'll love it, don't worry." I felt a twinge in my uterus and every so slightly pushed. Next came the second best feeling of relief I'd felt that day. Out came a giant slimy placenta and tons more fluid. It felt really similar to when I was home and had that random gush during a contraction. My midwife was right. Next, Maria worked with me to get baby boy to latch on. The hubby and I were still working on names.

 

With baby boy latched on and sucking away, we went over the list of names on the hubby's iPod.  Jacob?  The hubby said, "he looks like a Jacob?"  I liked the name, but wasn't totally sold on it.  Then he listed off Cyprus.  "Oh, I like that, can you look up the meaning real quick?"  The hubby did, but I already knew that was his name.  I had also told the hubby that if we had a boy, I wanted his middle name to be a tribute to my dad's brother, Theodore.  So there we had it.  Cyprus Theodore.  The hubby was busy making the text announcements to friends and family while the worst part of labor began for me- the stitch up.  Yowww.  Getting lidocaine shots in your hooha after just delivering a large baby is not the best thing.  Further more, getting stitched up for what seems like an eternity is not cool either.  Eventually the lidocaine kicked in and things were better, but man, that was enough for me to decide I'll only be doing this once!  The only thing I could think about next was getting cleaned up.  My midwife suggested I get back into the bath, and take Cyprus with me.  Yes!  Best idea ever. Taking our first bath together and getting cleaned up was yet another experience I will never forget.  Cyprus loved the bath, and I loved getting all the birth goo washed away.  I couldn't believe how great I felt.  Except starving.  I was sooooo hungry.  I just wanted to get home with my family, eat something, and go to sleep. 

 

Cyprus still needed to go through his newborn evaluation, get his vitamin K shot, get weighed, measured, etc.  He weighed in at 9lbs, 9oz (holy crap!  My first birth was a 9.5lb baby?!?!  Guess they were right all along) and measured an impressive 22 inches.  The hubby was beaming and so proud the whole time.  He got Cyprus dressed up in going home clothes, we finished everything up with the midwife, and set to head out.  We struggled a little getting him into the carseat, we should have brought the manual.  Ha, dad figured it out like a champ after a few minutes.  Away we went, 4 hours after Cyprus hit the floor we were on our way home.  I got everything I wanted out of my birth.  Every. Single. Thing. 

 

 

The Story of MY Birth

Throughout my life, my mom has frequently shared the story of my birth with me.  It's a story I never get tired of hearing, and each time she recounts it, I learn a new detail.  I think the reason why I like hearing it so much is because of the way my mom tells the story, so proud, so vivid, so clear, like the whole thing happened days ago instead of the 10, 15, 17, 21, 26, 28, 31, or 33 years later she was sharing the events of the night. 

 

My mom and dad lived in Mystic, CT with my 7.5 year old sister.  My mom was in the process of getting her MBA attending night classes, and my dad worked nights at a lab (pfizer maybe?).  It was a Wednesday night, and my mom was in class when she started paying attention to her contractions.  She timed them in her notebook, and after deciding they were real, left during the class break.  She went home and found things to distract her, like watering the garden until deciding it was the real deal.  Since my dad was at work, thinking she still had plenty of time, she called my grandpa to drive her to the hospital.  They drove to Westerly, RI, and showed up at the hospital around 10pm or so.  A nurse checked her out, and decided that I still had a lot of time before making my appearance, so they urged my mom to go back home and rest.  My mom declined, and stated that she was pretty sure I was on my way.  Soon.  In the time it took for the nurse to track down the doctor in the hospital, and get back to my mom, things had REALLY progressed.  When the nurse returned to my mom's room 30 or so minutes later, the nurse gasped and told her to "stop what she was doing."  (As if a woman in labor can stop things)  Anyway, the doctor came flying into the room minutes later and out I came, at 11:15pm. 

 

No time for pain killers my mom reminds me every time.  I'm fuzzy on the details about when my dad showed up, but I think it was pretty close to after I was born.  I'm not sure if my sister was brought to the hospital that night, or if she was with my grandma until the morning.  I do know that my sister gave me my name, and I found out years later that my name and Rhode Islands' state flower are the same.  I'm not sure if my sister knew that, or if it had any part in my name, but what a pretty cool coincidence anyway. 

 

When I hear this story, I hear strength in my mom's voice.  Strength for knowing her body enough to refuse to go home.  Strength for having a drug free birth.  Strength for being 9+ months pregnant and in school.  It has always been an inspiring story to me, and how could I not love a story in which I'm the star?! 

 

I look forward to sharing the story of my childs birthday repeatedly, however the story chooses to play out. 

 

Saying Good-bye

The other night we had our second meeting with our birth doula, and it was great.  I think hiring a doula was one of the best decisions we've made throughout this process.  I expressed to her my end of pregnancy thoughts, and she mentioned that it is natural to still feel a disconnect between growing a baby (being pregnant) and actually having a baby (labor/birth/afterbirth).  I decided in order to move forward, I need to make peace with my pregnancy and say goodbye.

 

As I've mentioned numerous times, I've enjoyed pregnancy immensely.  I had no idea what to expect, and this being my first time, I had nothing to compare this to.  Of course I had ideas of how I wanted certain things to go- like how I wanted to keep my eating Paleo, continue to crossfit until the end, work up until the end, wear cute maternity clothes, and pretty much lead a normal life while growing a life.  This experience surpassed any wishes I held. 

 

Looking back, on my 38 weeks I can state the following truths:

- My morning sickness was short-lived and very manageable despite that one time I puked in the streets of downtown Seattle...

- Exercising (specifically Crossfitting) made me feel great

- A body pillow is the most amazing thing

- No insomnia issues

- It is possible to look somewhat cute/professional, and be comfortable in your clothes

- There was no time when I felt restricted because of my pregnancy.  I traveled a lot in my 3rd trimester, and even flew on an airplane 35 weeks pregnant. 

- Being pregnant is mood lifting for me

- Ankle swelling is/has been minimal

- Pro-biotics are the key to heartburn minimization

- My nails are awesome

- clear skin

 

There were a few things that I was sort of hoping for in pregnancy, but I'm not losing any sleep over not experiencing:

- My belly button never popped out- it's not even close

- No linea nigra- I think they are so beautiful

- Gain no more than 20 lbs (last check I was at 28lbs gained)

 

I'm so happy to end this pregnancy on a high note.  I had a long laundry list of things (both pregnancy and non-pregnancy related) that I wanted to accomplish before the baby came, and the list has been completed.  Everything is falling into place to allow for the next phase- baby. 

 

Pregnant self- I bid you adieu.  Thank you for all the great memories and feelings these past 9 months.  Thank you for allowing me to rest, exercise, work, and lead a very normal life.  Thank you for allowing me to become closer to people, for all the new knowledge I've gained, and for proving to me that random acts of kindness do exist.  Thank you for showing me once again, that my body is amazing by allowing me to participate in part of one of the oldest female rituals and rites of passage.  It is an experience I hope to never take for granted, and to continue to use in the future to draw strength from when needed.  Pregnant self, you have been amazing, and in the coming weeks whenever you choose to leave, I support you.

 

 

A Pumpkin, Placenta Encapsulation, and Pedrodos

Seems fitting that fall is just around the corner, and at nearly 38 weeks pregnant, I have a pumpkin in my belly.  A very, very, large pumpkin.  I looked at myself in the mirror today and laughed.  My stomach is so ridiculous.  I'm still not feeling "laborish" yet.  Of course, I have no idea what that might feel like, but I imagine discomfort?  Nope, not really.  I have occasional pelvis aches once I stand up from sitting, but once I get moving and/or pee I feel fine.  Bad sleep?  Nope, been sleeping fairly well, usually only wake once to pee.  Frequent Braxton Hicks?  I don't think 1 or so contractions a day is frequent.  So, yeah, I feel like this baby is going to be in for the long haul. 

 

Meanwhile, I've made good progress towards getting mentally ready for baby by completing items on my "To Do Before Baby" list.  I still need to find a Pediatrician, we are shopping for a second car, and I should probably freeze more dinner stuff.  Oh, and I need to make sure I have my cabinet stocked with the snacks to munch on in labor- applesauce, popsicles, lara bars, apples and almond butter, maybe a sweet potato?  Trying to think of things that are easy, comforting, and not too big of a load to my digestive system.  I also want to bring along some sort of amazing post- birth meal to share with everyone- doula, midwife, etc.  I'm having a hard time thinking of what that could be.  Placenta and onions?  Ha ha. 

 

Speaking of placenta, I have made the decision to have my placenta encapsulated for my post-partum consumption.  Now, I know the evidence to support eating ones placenta is not solid.  However, the way I see it, if it can't hurt, then why not?  I mean, its sort of like believing in Heaven.  You do good things your whole life in the hopes you make it into Heaven, when the evidence of Heaven is...well...is there any?  But, either way you win.  You either lead a good moral life with the notion of going to Heaven, or you actually get to go to Heaven!  Same with placenta eating.  Either it does nothing except give you a placebo effect, or it does amazing things like increase your milk supply, help with mood swings, and makes for a faster recovery.  So at worst I'll only think something is happening, and at best, something really will be happening.  Sounds like a fair risk to me. 

 

We still don't have names picked out yet.  I never thought naming a kid would be so hard, but it is!  I think we may have settled on a girl name, but so far I haven't heard any boy names that are "the one".  I suppose I'm too picky.  It can't be too plain, or too weird, or too popular.  It can't be one of those crazily spelled names, or the name of someone I know in my regular group of friends, and maybe even a few layers out from there- friends of friends.  So, I think effectively, I've ruled out every boy name on earth.  Naming our dog was so easy.  I just looked at him, and he was "Pedro" I've tried to sell the husband on "Pedrodos" but I'm meeting resistance. 

 

So, yes, I've entered the in-between time, or zwischen as the Germans have so aptly named it.  I'm waiting.  I'm preparing.  I'm enjoying my last few weeks to myself and with my husband.  I'm ready to say good-bye to this belly and welcome a newborn to the family.  My thoughts are comprised of "when" this thing is going to happen.  It is time for me to accept that I've done everything I can to prepare, and let what will be, be.  I'm still working, and plan to continue coming into the office until I go into labor.  It's a good way for me to keep distracted and busy.  Also, like I mentioned in my last post, I plan to spend my down time knitting.  The repetitive motion is relaxing, and I've always found it so nice to be able to sit on the couch watching tv and actually create something! 

 

And for those curious folk- here is me yesterday in all my gigantic baby glory:

 

9 Months....

Here we are, the last week of August, Labor Day holiday around the corner.  I expected to be rather uncomfortable at this point in my pregnancy, but really, I'm not.  I don't feel particularly achy or so ready to give birth as I feel so many people claim near the end.  Fatigue has returned for sure.  I'm slow moving, waddling, and my belly juts out in a ridiculous fashion in front of me.  It's a struggle to motivate to get to the gym.  I feel great when I'm there, but getting there is so hard.  Also, its been SO HUMID.  I can't stop sweating or being hot for the life of me.  It's so strange.  Normally I'm cold all the time. This week marks the start of weekly mid-wife appointments.  The count down has begun, that is for sure. 

 

We had our first official doula meeting last Thursday, and that was amazing.  How could it not be?  I got a foot massage, back massage, and in general the whole appointment was about finding ways to make me relax and then having my husband and doula practice those on me.  It was heavenly.  We discussed my wishes for birth, both in a birth center and in a hospital setting.  I also need to make sure my husband is well informed on what I want because I may not be in the best mindset to be making clear decisions. 

 

This week is all about getting the little things crossed off my list- finding a pediatrician, packing my birth suitcase, making sure we have labor friendly snacks in the house to take with us, getting a diaper bag, getting a nursing bra, installing the car seat, and finishing a few things in the baby room.  Really it's not that much to do!  Once I get all these little details out of the way, I plan on getting some yarn and spending the rest of the wait knitting cute hats.  Knitting is distracting, relaxing, and productive.  I feel like it would be a good thing for the last weeks of me time.   

 

I had a nice follow up discussion with my midwife regarding my giganto baby.  She was so blase this time!  It was great, and exactly how I needed her to be.  I think the last appointment was just more of a cover her a** sort of thing- probably required by the state. 

 

This past week also brought some major ups and downs with other areas of my life, and I think slowly everything is starting to fall into place for me to be relaxed and focused on having a baby and taking care of a baby.  I'm grateful to have wonderful family and friends to support me, and most of all, my husband.  He is such a big help and more often than not, my biggest fan.  Take for example last night.  It was 8pm, and I NEEDED to get the baby room finished.   As we were sprawled out on the tile floor in the baby room, it was 67 degrees and like 200% humidty, we assembled a twin bed that came in the mail from Amazon with 300 steps like a team.  There was no place I would have rather been, and it washed my week of disappointment away. 

 

 

 

 

Macrosomia?

About 4 weeks ago, at one of my routine midwife appointments, my midwife started hinting around about me having a large baby.  She said measuring fundal height on "larger" individuals isn't very accurate, and therefore they like to obtain other data.  She went on to say that she would like me to get an ultrasound at 31 weeks, and another at 36 weeks.  This annoyed me.  I didn't plan on any ultrasounds past 20 weeks, and its been shown numerous times that ultrasounds that late in pregnancy are not accurate for determining size.  So, why was I being ordered an ultrasound?!

 

I dutifully scheduled my 31 week u/s, and during the u/s found out that according to their measurements, baby was measuring 2 weeks ahead, and in the 95% percentile.  Ok.  So?  If, (and that's a big if) the measurement was accurate, there could still be several factors involved.  First, my husband is a 7 foot tall freak of genetic nature.  Second, maybe my due date is off.  But, most likely, the ultrasound is off. 

 

At my next midwife appointment last week where we discussed the results of the u/s, my midwife still seemed to think the size of my baby is a big deal.  She told me she was obligated to discuss C-section and offer me one if that's the route I wanted to take (really?  This discussion at 34 weeks?  Before I'd even tried?)  She felt around my stomach and thought at 34 weeks my baby was already 7lbs.  WHAT?!  I know she is a professional and all, and I've never been pregnant before, but I was like "there is no way my baby is 7lbs yet."  Sure, my belly has reached epic proportions.  I'm 34 (now 35) weeks pregnant!  I could give birth anywhere in the next 2-5 weeks.  Of course I'm huge.  So she had me schedule a 36 week u/s.  I left the appointment slightly irritated. 

 

Why, why, why, would anyone in the OB/midwife field tell a woman that they think she is having a huge baby.  I mean, even if that were true, and there was a way to know exactly for sure how big a baby is in-utero (there isn't by they way, but let's pretend) that is not something you should put into a mom to be's head.  Let her body do what it's going to do.  Just the idea that a woman is home to a "larger" baby might make the difference in labor between giving it a good try and having an unecessary C-section.  (disclaimer- there is nothing wrong with an individual choosing a c-section.  What I have a problem with is the high number of uneccesary c-sections that are performed in the U.S.  Personally, I'd like to use the opening I have, and not create any new ones with major surgery. That's just me, I definitely don't look down on people that have had them, just the doctors who are too quick to choose that route.  K?)

 

The whole reason why I was so set on getting care from a midwife is because I never wanted to be scared into things that had no basis.  I didn't want to get talked into induction if I went past 40 weeks.  I didn't want to get talked into excessive testing.  And I certainly didn't want to get talked into a C-section due to "suspected large baby."  So I peppered my midwife with questions: "will there be a time in labor when its obvious my baby is too big for my frame?"  Yes.  "if I'm eating too many calories for my needs, does that mean the baby packs on extra weight as well?"  No.  "aren't late ultrasounds notoriously inaccurate at predicting size?"  Yes.  "I could just deliver earlier, right?"  Yes.   

 

It was like an exercise in futility.  What was the big "worry?"  If there is no real way to tell exactly how big my baby is until it comes out and is placed on a scale, WHY ARE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT THIS?  Just to give me something to stress about for the next 4 weeks?  Just to give my insurance something extra to bill?  True macrosomia (baby larger than 8lbs 13oz) isn't diagnosed until after a baby is born.  It also only affects about 9% of babies. 

 

My plan is to continue doing what I'm doing and let my body do what it is going to do.  I trust my body.  I HAVE to trust my body in order to ensure nothing happens to it that I don't want or don't need- this is true during pregnancy and during non-pregnancy.  I just have to wait and see what is in store for me (us). 

8 months...

Somehow I skipped my "7 months..." pregnant post.  Last month flew by faster than any month ever has in my life.  I did have a few entries last month, so those will have to suffice as my data for month seven.  Each week last month was filled with appointments, work travel, social obligations, emergency repairs to a condo that I may own for maybe one more month (yeah, my luck), and my regular life stuff- job, gym, house upkeep, etc.  I was hoping for a little reprieve this month, but seeing as it is already the 8th, and I haven't caught my breath yet, I don't see that happening. 

 

In some ways the non-stop activity is nice, it's bringing me closer and closer to my due date without me having time to think about that, or stress about it, but at the same time, it's bringing me closer to my due date without me having time to think!  There isn't too much left to do in terms of getting ready for baby.  I have a short list on my iPhone of things to do before baby.  Someone once told me to make sure I don't complete that list until I'm really ready, because its like your body knows once the last item is crossed off. 

 

For the most part I'm still feeling good.  I've graduated to sitting more hours at work, and on a yoga ball.  Luckily for me, my desk adjusts between sitting and standing positions, so I can have some variety in the day.  I get tired of sitting.  I get tired of standing.  I'm still sleeping ok, but rolling over in the night is a task!  For whatever reason, that is the most painful time for me, and dread rolling over to my other side, but when I'm on one side for too long, my hip gets achy.  I've severely cut back on the amount of food I eat at dinner, and sometimes if my lunch was big enough skip dinner altogether because this makes for a more comfortable night.  The baby seems to prefer me sleeping on my left side versus my right.  This baby is already trying to control me!

 

As far as dressing the bump goes, I think this sums it up well:

http://jezebel.com/a-field-guide-to-the-impossible-to-dress-pregnant-body-474991644

 

Sorry if it doesn't link, but its worth the copy and paste.  Whoever wrote that has clearly been following my pregnancy dressing to the T.  I'm still delusional thinking everything will return to somewhat normal asap post-baby...I fully know this is not the case- don't burst my bubble. 

 

Last night the hubby and I took a 'Newborn Care' class.  I believe about 20 minutes into the class when I looked over at the hubby craddling a plastic doll, sh*t got real.  Yes, I know I'm pregnant.  Yes, I know being pregnant eventually means I will have a baby.  But, ever since finding out, I've been really struggling with the reality that is a baby when this is all over.  Sure, we've got the crib, the stroller, the clothes, etc.  But somehow I haven't mentally connected that to "baby" yet.  I have no idea what it's going to be like to have to hold something all the time, think about something all the time, be careful with something all the time, and not get any sleep in the process.  I sort of got a glimpse of that in class last night, just having to hold a doll for an hour (I think at one point I was holding it upside down by one leg, and Dave gave me a look, so I returned to holding it like it was alive).  Then hearing about SIDS, infant bathing (watch out for cord stump? What?), swaddling, diapering, crankiness...it all became very real.  We are going to have a baby.   

 

Coming up on Saturday is 'Labor' class, I'm sure that will also bring about more realities.  It does feel good to be slowly checking these items off, even if I never end up using any labor techniques presented in the class, or suggestions from the newborn class.  They create the illusion of doing SOMETHING to prepare.  Feeling like I'm doing something to prepare for something that is unpreparble for gives me slight peace of mind?

 

It is so hard to believe that in just 4 short, activity filled weeks (more work travel, appointments, social stuff, etc.) I will be full term.  I'm a little cautious towards giving my due date any recognition, because 5% of women deliver on their due date.  Basically, now I have anywhere from 4-8 weeks until I could possibly give birth (at full term).  That's a helluva window.  Baby will come when baby is ready!