Since I can remember, my Dad and I have had an interesting relationship; and when I say interesting, I don’t mean in a good way. Maybe dysfunctional is a better analogy. When my parents split up when I was younger I opted to stay with him – life would never be the same again. I look back on my high school years and still to this day shake my head in amazement that I turned out the way I did (thanks to God, ‘cause no one on earth could have gotten me through it) given the rollercoaster of emotions and the obnoxious relationship we’ve endured over the years. Now here we are 16 years later, and similar to then, I’m taking care of him. Only difference now is that I’m approaching 30 with a family of my own; and back then I was 13 (going on 30) living with a man who didn’t know what he was getting himself into asking for custody of a broken little girl.
My Dad was diagnosed with MS in 2004, the year after Mark and I got married; and we’ve basically been taking care of him ever since. Mark is my angel, and since the day Mark came into my life, he’s been my rock when it came to dealing with my dad. He had the opportunity to experience the healthy Mike (that’s my dad’s name), and also the MS Mike. Mark has helped teach me to take it one day at a time with Mike; to not sweat the small stuff; or in most cases, the things I can’t control about my dad. Healthy or not, I can’t change Mike’s quirky behavior; I can only accept he’s sick and adjust my attitude to make the most out of each visit we have together.
Funny side story – calling him Mike reminds me of when I was a kid. When we were at softball tournaments, or with large groups of people, I used to call him by his first name; partly to piss him off, but also to get his attention. My rational was that if I yelled DAD, 5 guys would turn around, but if I yelled MIKE, only him and maybe one other would acknowledge the call. Needless to say, I call him Dad much more often these days. Calling him Mike is more of a joke, reminding him of those days so many years ago.
My sister Tiffany has also been a tremendous help with Mike. I’m putting it lightly when I say my dad is LUCKY to have my sister in his life. My mom did a phenomenal job raising Tiffany alone (I could write a whole book about my mom’s incredible journey – post Mike), but she got the raw end of the stick when it came to our dad. He never made her feel like the amazing person she is, or gave her the attention or love that she deserved and needed. And even through all of those years of hurt he caused her, she still finds it in her heart daily to love him unconditional. Tiffany is one of the most beautiful people I know. She has the soul of a saint, and truly is an amazing woman – she must get that from our mom! Fortunately now after years of broken sisterhood, we are the best of friends. We can talk about the years of our childhood that were spent a part and fill in some of the blanks that caused us both heartache. Blanks in time that we only assumed the truth about up until a few years ago. Without her in my life, I really don’t know how I would have gotten through the past several years caring for our dad.
Mike is in his mid-50’s, so as you can probably imagine, it’s hell seeing him deteriorate – probably the hardest part of caring for someone with MS. Last night around 6:50 I got a call from my dad’s home that he was being rushed to the hospital because he had fallen – again. Falling for Mike several years ago was a weekly occurrence, but since moving from a walker to a wheelchair last year, falling was happening far less often. Unfortunately, last night’s fall was the result of his MS acting up. His legs just decided not to work, and instead of getting from the bed to his wheelchair, he met the floor.
The hospital released him last night after running a bunch of tests and ruling out any breaks, but he was still a little shook up once he got home. I went to visit him this morning on my way to work. He was pretty bruised up and still a bit swollen. The worst part – his legs are still not working. Other than bringing him some homemade food, all I could really offer was some Tylenol and the hug I’m sure he needed most. I think the hardest part of seeing him the way he was this morning is the fact you feel helpless. When things like this happen, there is really nothing Tiffany or I can do for him, except just show him love.
I love my dad with all my heart, but I’d be lying if I said it’s not tough to accept the life with Mike we’ve been handed. With most things dealing with Mike, I try to see the glass half full, because God knows, he sees ever glass damn near empty. Sure, sometimes I hear that voice in my head telling me we’re too young to be dealing with this, but then I snap back into reality and remind myself – life just happens, and sometimes people have to care for their parents a little earlier in life than they would prefer. It’s not always a reality I want to accept, but it is, what it is, and there is no use bitching (although venting and writing about it sometimes helps) about something you just can’t change or fix.
If I’ve learned anything from my dad since he’s been sick it’s this – be smart with your money. Save, and plan for the future, because you never know when an illness is going to creep up on you and turn your world upside down.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Did I ask for your opinion?
Why does being pregnant instantly open the door to unsolicited advice? I’m the first person to welcome conversation about what works for your baby, and what may or may not work for mine, but I can’t begin to explain how annoying it is to observe “the know it all.” Can I remind you that parenting is a learning experience. You surely don’t have all the right answers just because you popped out a kid! And oh by the way, every kid is different, so what works for your little one may not work for mine!
Now advice from the pediatrician, that’s typically my first stop for answers. My go-to girlfriends are usually a sure bet for honesty; and most of the time family input is helpful, but on occasion that route can become a slippery slope. Fortunately Isaac has two grandmothers who share their thoughts (which are welcomed), but they always respect the fact they are grandma, and Mark and I are the parents. I just wish everyone else had that point of view!
All I’m trying to say is, the next time you want to go off ranting to the expecting couple in the elevator about getting all the sleep you can because once baby comes that’s all over, take a step back and put yourself in their shoes. Entering parenthood is scary enough as it is, so the last thing an expecting mom or dad wants to hear about is how miserable their life is going to be once the baby arrives. And shame on you if that’s your message! Yes, babies change your life; and yes, babies may have spouts of fussiness or trouble sleeping, but you get through it. I’m not sugar coasting the reality, because I’ll be the first to admit, parenthood is no cakewalk; and to be honest, being a stay at home mom is HARD work; and frankly, work I’m not cut out for, but there is no better reward (in my opinion) than to see the miracle of life you and your partner created.
I don’t care if you aren’t religious, you have to believe in some type of higher power when you really break down the creation of life. HELLO – sperm meets egg; 6 weeks later you see a flashing light on the ultrasound that is a heart beat; at your 18 week appointment you get to see if baby Devlin is a he or she; then here you are at 38 weeks – full term in most books and boom you’re headed to the hospital. One minute he’s living inside you, and 5 sets of pushes later he’s cuddled in your arms. Nothing short of AMAZING!
I’ll get off my soapbox. Quick update on last night’s sleep, or lack thereof.
Our plan for last night didn’t quite turn out the way we had hoped, but it was for good reason – Isaac cut his second tooth. Seeing the second white nub this morning made last night’s broken sleep a lot more understandable. Poor Mark was extra tired this morning. God bless him; he kept his word and got up each time with me last night. Unfortunately, rocking didn’t work as well last night, so we caved to boob therapy, which turned out to be the only thing doing the trick. We’ll see how tonight goes. Mark seems to be coming down with a cold, so we’ll attempt to stay on track with our plan, but I may give in a little easier if papa isn’t up for his role as the rocker.
Final thoughts for today – keep freshly pumped breast milk out of abrupt arm and hand movement reach. I learned the hard way and lost half a bottle of milk all over my desk – nice! Hence the irritability in my tone today! Ugh – is this day over yet?
Now advice from the pediatrician, that’s typically my first stop for answers. My go-to girlfriends are usually a sure bet for honesty; and most of the time family input is helpful, but on occasion that route can become a slippery slope. Fortunately Isaac has two grandmothers who share their thoughts (which are welcomed), but they always respect the fact they are grandma, and Mark and I are the parents. I just wish everyone else had that point of view!
All I’m trying to say is, the next time you want to go off ranting to the expecting couple in the elevator about getting all the sleep you can because once baby comes that’s all over, take a step back and put yourself in their shoes. Entering parenthood is scary enough as it is, so the last thing an expecting mom or dad wants to hear about is how miserable their life is going to be once the baby arrives. And shame on you if that’s your message! Yes, babies change your life; and yes, babies may have spouts of fussiness or trouble sleeping, but you get through it. I’m not sugar coasting the reality, because I’ll be the first to admit, parenthood is no cakewalk; and to be honest, being a stay at home mom is HARD work; and frankly, work I’m not cut out for, but there is no better reward (in my opinion) than to see the miracle of life you and your partner created.
I don’t care if you aren’t religious, you have to believe in some type of higher power when you really break down the creation of life. HELLO – sperm meets egg; 6 weeks later you see a flashing light on the ultrasound that is a heart beat; at your 18 week appointment you get to see if baby Devlin is a he or she; then here you are at 38 weeks – full term in most books and boom you’re headed to the hospital. One minute he’s living inside you, and 5 sets of pushes later he’s cuddled in your arms. Nothing short of AMAZING!
I’ll get off my soapbox. Quick update on last night’s sleep, or lack thereof.
Our plan for last night didn’t quite turn out the way we had hoped, but it was for good reason – Isaac cut his second tooth. Seeing the second white nub this morning made last night’s broken sleep a lot more understandable. Poor Mark was extra tired this morning. God bless him; he kept his word and got up each time with me last night. Unfortunately, rocking didn’t work as well last night, so we caved to boob therapy, which turned out to be the only thing doing the trick. We’ll see how tonight goes. Mark seems to be coming down with a cold, so we’ll attempt to stay on track with our plan, but I may give in a little easier if papa isn’t up for his role as the rocker.
Final thoughts for today – keep freshly pumped breast milk out of abrupt arm and hand movement reach. I learned the hard way and lost half a bottle of milk all over my desk – nice! Hence the irritability in my tone today! Ugh – is this day over yet?
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Sleep...precious sleep!
Last night was a little rough. Maybe because sleep came in waves of three hours – not something we’ve had to deal with in a very long time. Other than a few bouts of fussiness early on, which was caused by a tummy so bloated you could bounce a coin off it; thanks to a mom who decided to grub down on broccoli, garlic, and I’m sure a few other choices found on the “not recommended for breastfeeding moms’ menu,” Isaac has overall been a pretty good sleeper. We did our best to maintain the Eat – Play – Sleep philosophy (thanks to Baby Wise), so when we started down the path of official “sleep training” at four months, we were pretty confident getting him to sleep through the night wasn’t going to be too much trouble – that is until baby tooth #1 decided to make an appearance.
It’s lovely how the timing of teething conveniently started as I went back to work. I guess the one positive is that I could stop feeling guilty for thinking his sleeping patterns were changing because he was upset with me going back to work. The change in his sleeping habits clearly stemmed from the poor guy learning to cope with a sharp piece of calcium trying to penetrate his soft baby gums.
To help ease his discomfort, we adopted the trifecta method (as Mark’s buddy from work calls it): .4 ml baby Tylenol, (2) dissolving Hylands teething tablets, and a chilled Orajel gum massage. This has been helping – a lot, but last night was no match for even the trifecta. The booby was the only thing soothing this little man, that is until Dad came to the rescue at 5:00 o’clock this morning with “The Hold” – baby facing outward, Dad’s huge right paw under his belly and left paw wrapped around his arms; the result – a snuggled baby who feels secure and safe. Thankfully, the combination of the hold and a little rocking did the trick and I was able to sneak in an extra hour of sleep. Hooray!
Our plan for tonight is this: make sure Isaac gets a FULL meal before bedtime (no sleeping on the job!); followed by a good night diaper change and a solid burp session; then comes the trifecta therapy; and finally it’s time to put him down to bed. He’ll probably squirm a little and might even fuss for a few minutes, but it will pay off in the end – so we hope. Now, if we see a trend from last night and 1 a.m. rolls around and Isaac decides to double as my erroneously set alarm clock, instead of taking the lazy, I’m half asleep route, so I’ll just give him my boob, I’ll roll over and remind his Dad what he said this morning, “I’ll rock him back to sleep.” Now it’s documented, Mark agreed to take the lead in rocking him back to sleep.
We’ll see how this goes. Tomorrow’s entry may turn into a column seeking advice, because we caved and resorted to half asleep boob therapy because the hold and rock didn’t do the trick. Let’s hope for the best and a restful night sleep!
Monday, April 26, 2010
Monday Morning Blues
Why is it that no matter how great the weekend was, or how early I managed to slip myself into bed Sunday night, Monday mornings continuously suck! Maybe it has to do with the fact I have to schlep myself to San Francisco, and the hubby gets to stay snuggled up in bed with our little boy for an extra couple of hours because he has the luxury of working from home twice a week – that might have something to do with it!
Today has started off a little rough and the glass isn’t as full as I’d like it to be. Thankfully the sun is shining, and I’m meeting the gang for happy hour tonight. Wow – my first happy hour in over a year and I won’t be sipping a mocktail! It will be a brief showing, but at least I can be there for one drink and some quick gossip before I hit the road. Mark’s cooking tonight, so I definitely want to be home for dinner.
During the early part of my pregnancy I avoided happy hours at all cost. For a casual drinker, it’s a sure give-away someone’s prego when they are dodging group orders at the bar, and sporting faux soda and lime beverages when their usual is a vodka martini straight up with a couple of olives. That’s actually how I was outted to the in-laws last April. About an hour into our visit, my mother-in-law looks over at my glass and says, “why are you drinking water?” I guess the look on my face said it all. Now here we are 12 months later and me drinking water in lieu of a cocktail is much more normal – thankfully. It’s amazing what a year, and a breastfed baby will do for you!
I mentioned it briefly in an earlier entry – breastfeeding has been an amazing experience, not to mention a much cheaper route to keeping my boy fed. And who doesn’t like the fact you burn 500 calories a day doing it, but pumping is a whole different story. To be frank – I hate it! This morning is a perfect example. I get to the office, turn the computer on, check some email, then hook myself up. Why on earth can I express 6 oz in 10 minutes from one boob on some days, but then mornings like today, I barely managed to squeeze 6.5 oz out in 20 minutes from both boobs combined – arg! Hopefully round 2 this afternoon will be better! The only thing that keeps me going with that damn machine is my drive to exclusively breastfeed Isaac for the first 6 months – then we will introduce solids. Here’s to learning to puree homemade baby food! In just over a month, Isaac will be enjoying green bean-mango surprise and God knows what else we come up with to serve as the main course, and I’ll be able to pump a little less, and still have plenty of milk frozen for him.
I'll wrap up my pumping rant with this, although it's very clear I’m not a fan of hooking myself up to a machine that is essentially milking me, I will give credit where credit is due. 45 minutes a day (divided through out my time in the office – I haven’t ventured into expressing while driving, although I have invested in a cigarette lighter adapter for the pump) keeps my boy fed while I’m at work and allows momma to have an occasional extra FULL glass of vino, or in tonight’s case – a guilt-free martini with a side dish of girl talk.
Hopefully by now you’re not thinking, God, doesn’t this girl have anything better to talk about then her getting to have a drink and why her breast pump is raking up the miles? Yes, of course there is, but when your life for the past 2 months has revolved around pumping and freezing breast milk, attending happy hour is much more than just a drink after work, it’s an accomplishment. I’m not just a working mom who is committed to keeping her son nourished with breast milk; damn it, I’m a working mom who can do all that and still have a social life!
Friday, April 23, 2010
Back to Work
You really have no idea how motherhood is going to change your life until you’re actually living it out. Anyone who knows me can vouch, work has always played a huge role in my life. I worked my ass off to move up as quick as I could fresh out of college, and when the time came to make a move that was going to advance my career, I took it. Kids were definitely in the future, but Mark and I decided from the beginning of our marriage that they would come in time, and there was no need to rush into parenthood. We took plenty of random weekend get-aways, enjoyed Friday night poker and weekend golf, and had our fare share of party ‘til you puke nights – I guess that was more my issue than Mark’s. He was usually the one holding my hair back. LOL. I’m not saying we can’t still do those things, we can, but with parenting comes sacrifice. And we just weren’t ready to make the sacrifice that in both of our minds was necessary if we wanted to be the parents we planned on being. Not to mention, I had no intention of staying home full time, so I needed to feel confident in the progress I’d made with my career before starting the next chapter – Corporate Mommyhood.
If you would have asked me 2 years ago if I planned to have a kid by 2010, I would have probably laughed in your face. It’s funny how (literally) overnight, we knew we were ready. I guess the closest thing I can compare the feeling to is the one you feel for your partner when you’re ready to commit to him for the rest of your life. When you know, you know, and there’s not much more to it. The same happened when we decided to start “trying.” Not to go too far off on a tangent, but can I tell you, I hate that phrase – trying. We tried to keep it a secret, because the last thing you want is someone asking you every month, “Did you get it? Did your period come?” All of a sudden, once you’ve made it public knowledge your trying to get pregnant, your menstrual cycle becomes the ice breaker for every conversation. OK, back to the subject at hand.
I decided to take four months off after Isaac arrived, and good Lord it went by fast. The idea of going back to work was definitely bittersweet. I missed the email rants with my counterparts; looked forward to retiring the sweatpants for slacks and make-up; and to be honest, even though I wouldn’t mind less volume of work, I actually enjoy what I do. There is surely satisfaction in being able to bring new ideas to the table, executing on them, and seeing the return on your investment. Granted, that is not always the case. There are surely days I want to pull my hair out, because let’s face it, they (believe) they know better than I – HA! But for someone who hates to clean and has always considered herself a career woman (Yes, Mark knows what he signed up for!) the feeling I get at work was somewhat more gratifying than having the dishes done, and laundry folded when Mark got home from work. OK, that might not have come out right, the point I’m trying to make is that you have to be honest with yourself, which I finally was 2 months into my maternity leave.
During my leave I had an opportunity to really get to know Isaac, but I also learned a lot about myself. Staying at home full time (at least right now) just isn’t for me, and that’s OK. But can I tell you, there were weeks when I really felt guilty about feeling this way. I miss Isaac a TON during the day, and yes, I do wish I could be home with him more than I am now, but the reality is, Momma enjoys bringing home (some of) the bacon! My ideal scenario would be to work most days in the office, with at least one day at home, little to no commute, and an employer who actually supported the fact that I am a mom. Not that being a mom is going to affect my work product, but if my butt is going to be in the office by 8, then I’m leaving at 5. You know I have that damn Blackberry on 24/7 and you know I’m good for checking it at least a few times through out the evening. The only difference now is that it gets checked AFTER I’ve spent some time with my baby!
It’s now been 2.5 weeks since I returned to work, and each day gets a little better – thanks Jodi, you were right! And tears haven’t been part of my day for over a week now. I know as time passes, each day will continue to get a little easier. Thankfully I have an amazing mom who cares for Isaac Tuesday through Thursday, and a loving mother-in-law who spends most Fridays caring for her grandson. I love you both. Thank you for respecting how Mark and I want Isaac raised and for being such a huge part of our lives. I can’t imagine having gone through this transition without both of you by our sides!
If you would have asked me 2 years ago if I planned to have a kid by 2010, I would have probably laughed in your face. It’s funny how (literally) overnight, we knew we were ready. I guess the closest thing I can compare the feeling to is the one you feel for your partner when you’re ready to commit to him for the rest of your life. When you know, you know, and there’s not much more to it. The same happened when we decided to start “trying.” Not to go too far off on a tangent, but can I tell you, I hate that phrase – trying. We tried to keep it a secret, because the last thing you want is someone asking you every month, “Did you get it? Did your period come?” All of a sudden, once you’ve made it public knowledge your trying to get pregnant, your menstrual cycle becomes the ice breaker for every conversation. OK, back to the subject at hand.
I decided to take four months off after Isaac arrived, and good Lord it went by fast. The idea of going back to work was definitely bittersweet. I missed the email rants with my counterparts; looked forward to retiring the sweatpants for slacks and make-up; and to be honest, even though I wouldn’t mind less volume of work, I actually enjoy what I do. There is surely satisfaction in being able to bring new ideas to the table, executing on them, and seeing the return on your investment. Granted, that is not always the case. There are surely days I want to pull my hair out, because let’s face it, they (believe) they know better than I – HA! But for someone who hates to clean and has always considered herself a career woman (Yes, Mark knows what he signed up for!) the feeling I get at work was somewhat more gratifying than having the dishes done, and laundry folded when Mark got home from work. OK, that might not have come out right, the point I’m trying to make is that you have to be honest with yourself, which I finally was 2 months into my maternity leave.
During my leave I had an opportunity to really get to know Isaac, but I also learned a lot about myself. Staying at home full time (at least right now) just isn’t for me, and that’s OK. But can I tell you, there were weeks when I really felt guilty about feeling this way. I miss Isaac a TON during the day, and yes, I do wish I could be home with him more than I am now, but the reality is, Momma enjoys bringing home (some of) the bacon! My ideal scenario would be to work most days in the office, with at least one day at home, little to no commute, and an employer who actually supported the fact that I am a mom. Not that being a mom is going to affect my work product, but if my butt is going to be in the office by 8, then I’m leaving at 5. You know I have that damn Blackberry on 24/7 and you know I’m good for checking it at least a few times through out the evening. The only difference now is that it gets checked AFTER I’ve spent some time with my baby!
It’s now been 2.5 weeks since I returned to work, and each day gets a little better – thanks Jodi, you were right! And tears haven’t been part of my day for over a week now. I know as time passes, each day will continue to get a little easier. Thankfully I have an amazing mom who cares for Isaac Tuesday through Thursday, and a loving mother-in-law who spends most Fridays caring for her grandson. I love you both. Thank you for respecting how Mark and I want Isaac raised and for being such a huge part of our lives. I can’t imagine having gone through this transition without both of you by our sides!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Breastfeeding 101
Let me preface this entry by saying, these are MY feelings about the breastfeeding experience, and in NO way am I judging others about this topic, nor do I believe my way is any better than yours.
While I was pregnant, one of the most important parts of “becoming prepared” dealt with breastfeeding. I remember getting advice from a secretary I work with who swore I needed to “toughen up” my nipples; take a dry washcloth to ‘em, because that was the only way I was going to survive – so she thought. She had me laughing out loud after she explained to me that after her first kid, her nipples were so tough she could hang off the back of a pick-up truck and be dragged around by them – no problem. Not a visual I care to imagine, not to mention OUCH!
Picture this, Mark and I are sitting in the breastfeeding workshop offered by our hospital (yes, Mark did come with me, he’s that awesome!) and the lactation specialist asks if we have any questions. I raise my hand and ask, “So, I’ve been told to toughen up my nipples with a dry washcloth; is that really necessary?” You should have seen the look on the instructor’s face. It was as if I ran my finger nails over a chalkboard. “Heavens no! Please do NOT torture yourself like that!”
There will definitely be days in the beginning that your nipples feel raw and you’re tired of asking a 2 week old to latch on to a basketball, because you’ll be so damn engorged, but remember this, it does get better. The best tip my mom gave me to help get the baby to latch on to that basketball I mentioned – pinch your nipple between our index and middle fingers. That should do the trick.
If after a few weeks the soreness is just getting worse, and you’re ready to throw in the towel because sore nipples have turned into bait for a vampire rather than your baby, chances are, he isn’t latching correctly. Yes, you heard it, NOT latching correctly. Now don’t go getting your panties in a wad – it’s the truth. Lansinoh does wonders, and yes, I needed it, and yes, there were days my nipples felt like I had just pitched a 20 innings game of fast pitch in the freezing cold, developing the worst titty burn in history, but that didn’t stop me from pushing through.
Give yourself (and your baby) some time to get in synch. Let those porous silver dollars get used to the sucking and before you know it those headlights will develop a solid callus and you’ll soon be entering easy street.
Don’t get me wrong, cluster feeding and midnight meals that turned to snacks because Isaac decided to pass out on the job were tiresome, but can I tell you, when I get to feed him after a long day in the office, and that little boy looks up at me with those big blue eyes, ready to eat from the tap because he’s been feeding from heated breast milk in the bottle all day, it reminds me it was all worth it!
Now pumping – that’s a whole different story!
While I was pregnant, one of the most important parts of “becoming prepared” dealt with breastfeeding. I remember getting advice from a secretary I work with who swore I needed to “toughen up” my nipples; take a dry washcloth to ‘em, because that was the only way I was going to survive – so she thought. She had me laughing out loud after she explained to me that after her first kid, her nipples were so tough she could hang off the back of a pick-up truck and be dragged around by them – no problem. Not a visual I care to imagine, not to mention OUCH!
Picture this, Mark and I are sitting in the breastfeeding workshop offered by our hospital (yes, Mark did come with me, he’s that awesome!) and the lactation specialist asks if we have any questions. I raise my hand and ask, “So, I’ve been told to toughen up my nipples with a dry washcloth; is that really necessary?” You should have seen the look on the instructor’s face. It was as if I ran my finger nails over a chalkboard. “Heavens no! Please do NOT torture yourself like that!”
There will definitely be days in the beginning that your nipples feel raw and you’re tired of asking a 2 week old to latch on to a basketball, because you’ll be so damn engorged, but remember this, it does get better. The best tip my mom gave me to help get the baby to latch on to that basketball I mentioned – pinch your nipple between our index and middle fingers. That should do the trick.
If after a few weeks the soreness is just getting worse, and you’re ready to throw in the towel because sore nipples have turned into bait for a vampire rather than your baby, chances are, he isn’t latching correctly. Yes, you heard it, NOT latching correctly. Now don’t go getting your panties in a wad – it’s the truth. Lansinoh does wonders, and yes, I needed it, and yes, there were days my nipples felt like I had just pitched a 20 innings game of fast pitch in the freezing cold, developing the worst titty burn in history, but that didn’t stop me from pushing through.
Give yourself (and your baby) some time to get in synch. Let those porous silver dollars get used to the sucking and before you know it those headlights will develop a solid callus and you’ll soon be entering easy street.
Don’t get me wrong, cluster feeding and midnight meals that turned to snacks because Isaac decided to pass out on the job were tiresome, but can I tell you, when I get to feed him after a long day in the office, and that little boy looks up at me with those big blue eyes, ready to eat from the tap because he’s been feeding from heated breast milk in the bottle all day, it reminds me it was all worth it!
Now pumping – that’s a whole different story!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
He was determined to make an early appearance!
It was 3:45 a.m. on November 30th when I woke up out of a dead sleep, feeling like I had been dreaming about having to go pee, but didn’t make it to the bathroom – OMG, did I just wet my pants? Then came on the stomach cramps. I remember laying there in bed asking myself, “Is that a contraction? Am I in labor?” The cramps went away after a few seconds, but decided to return every 10 minutes or so. At this point I’m thinking, “OK, so even if I am in labor, and those are contractions, and this isn’t pee, but amniotic fluid, the contractions are still pretty far apart, so no need to rush to the hospital just yet, but I do need to get Mark up.” By now I had made my way to the bathroom, and lightly called out to Mark, “Babe, I think I’m in labor...Babe, I think I’m in labor.” I nearly gave Mr. cool, collective, easy going Mark a heart attack and the poor guy nearly passed out from jumping out of bed so quick. Never in a million years did I think I was going to be the calm one.
So picture this, I’m sitting on the toilet, leaking fluid, with phone in hand to let my mom know this might be it! We had been writing down the contractions to see if there was any consistency to them, and they were finally becoming more regular, so we decided to phone the hospital. They told us to come on down, and they’d check to see if my water did actually break. And I’m thinking, H-E-L-L-O...I think I know the difference between pissing on myself and amniotic fluid dripping down my leg (not to mention the puddle I left in our bed), but hey, you’re the one with the medical degree – we’ll be on our way soon.
Mark jumped in the shower, and I followed. Now our shower is small...very small, but I was not about to show up at the hospital unshaven, so I made it work, huge baby bump and all, and got those legs and muff in order before we walked out the door. But first, Mark needed to install the car seat base. It was classic, 4:30 in the morning, and Mark is in the street with the instruction manual, trying to figure out how to install the base. Guess we weren’t as prepared for the arrival of our son as I thought we were. While he took care of the car seat, I decided to hang out in the bathroom on the toilet, which was the safest place for a woman leaking fluid to be, and applied a full face of make-up. Yes, I’ll be the first to admit this was a vain move, but I was not about to have a million pictures snapped of me without looking half-way decent!
The contractions were getting a little more regular, and a whole lot more annoying. By now we were finally on the road, but before we could get on the freeway, we needed to make a quick pit-stop at Starbucks. You’re probably thinking we were crazy to stop, but all I kept hearing in my head was, “You had better make sure to eat and drink something before you get admitted, because if you don’t, you’ll be waiting until after the baby arrives!” So Mark grabbed me a decaf coffee, some water and a yogurt parfait while I waited patiently in the car – texting my boss in Chicago that I thought I was in labor and here is what needs to be wrapped up this week. More proof that pre-baby – this job consumed way too much of me! Now we were really on our way.
Highway 101 must be the bumpiest, most uncomfortable road to drive on in the state of California. Thank you tax dollars; I’m sure glad my hard earned dollars are paying for the road to look and feel like crap! By now it’s closing in on 6 a.m. and the contractions were in full force and the drive to the hospital was beyond uncomfortable. Screw the yogurt parfait and coffee – I wasn’t able to get either down. At this point, all I cared about was getting admitted and ensuring the anesthesiologist knew I was all for the epidural!
When you’re in labor time appears to fly by. Before I knew it, I was in my hospital gown, hooked up to an IV with my husband, mom, sister, and mother-in-law all by my side. The next thing I knew the nurse announced I was at 6 cm and I confirmed it was time for the epidural!
My nurse Teresa, who I just loved, loved, loved, was consistently popping in to check on me, and after that final peek she said, “You’re at 10; time to start pushing!” Forty-five minutes later the most beautiful little boy was born and Isaac Patrick was in his mommy’s arms at 11:45 a.m.
I’ve already heard it from a handful of friends – yes, I’m one of those; someone who lucked out and had a fairly easy delivery. Thank God – not all deliveries have to be horror stories!
So picture this, I’m sitting on the toilet, leaking fluid, with phone in hand to let my mom know this might be it! We had been writing down the contractions to see if there was any consistency to them, and they were finally becoming more regular, so we decided to phone the hospital. They told us to come on down, and they’d check to see if my water did actually break. And I’m thinking, H-E-L-L-O...I think I know the difference between pissing on myself and amniotic fluid dripping down my leg (not to mention the puddle I left in our bed), but hey, you’re the one with the medical degree – we’ll be on our way soon.
Mark jumped in the shower, and I followed. Now our shower is small...very small, but I was not about to show up at the hospital unshaven, so I made it work, huge baby bump and all, and got those legs and muff in order before we walked out the door. But first, Mark needed to install the car seat base. It was classic, 4:30 in the morning, and Mark is in the street with the instruction manual, trying to figure out how to install the base. Guess we weren’t as prepared for the arrival of our son as I thought we were. While he took care of the car seat, I decided to hang out in the bathroom on the toilet, which was the safest place for a woman leaking fluid to be, and applied a full face of make-up. Yes, I’ll be the first to admit this was a vain move, but I was not about to have a million pictures snapped of me without looking half-way decent!
The contractions were getting a little more regular, and a whole lot more annoying. By now we were finally on the road, but before we could get on the freeway, we needed to make a quick pit-stop at Starbucks. You’re probably thinking we were crazy to stop, but all I kept hearing in my head was, “You had better make sure to eat and drink something before you get admitted, because if you don’t, you’ll be waiting until after the baby arrives!” So Mark grabbed me a decaf coffee, some water and a yogurt parfait while I waited patiently in the car – texting my boss in Chicago that I thought I was in labor and here is what needs to be wrapped up this week. More proof that pre-baby – this job consumed way too much of me! Now we were really on our way.
Highway 101 must be the bumpiest, most uncomfortable road to drive on in the state of California. Thank you tax dollars; I’m sure glad my hard earned dollars are paying for the road to look and feel like crap! By now it’s closing in on 6 a.m. and the contractions were in full force and the drive to the hospital was beyond uncomfortable. Screw the yogurt parfait and coffee – I wasn’t able to get either down. At this point, all I cared about was getting admitted and ensuring the anesthesiologist knew I was all for the epidural!
When you’re in labor time appears to fly by. Before I knew it, I was in my hospital gown, hooked up to an IV with my husband, mom, sister, and mother-in-law all by my side. The next thing I knew the nurse announced I was at 6 cm and I confirmed it was time for the epidural!
My nurse Teresa, who I just loved, loved, loved, was consistently popping in to check on me, and after that final peek she said, “You’re at 10; time to start pushing!” Forty-five minutes later the most beautiful little boy was born and Isaac Patrick was in his mommy’s arms at 11:45 a.m.
I’ve already heard it from a handful of friends – yes, I’m one of those; someone who lucked out and had a fairly easy delivery. Thank God – not all deliveries have to be horror stories!
Our final four-day weekend as a family of two
It was November in Northern California and with the baby due in 2 short weeks, we thought it would be best to decline offers to spend Thanksgiving with our families, and opted to have a nice quiet evening at home. Mark and I had just completed our first Thanksgiving meal - that is the first one WE actually cooked. We had a feast with all the trimmings; turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, bread rolls, apple pie, and yes, a lovely glass of our dear friend's wine - EmmaLilly. It was also the first and only glass of wine I drank since finding out I was pregnant back in April 2009, and boy did I enjoy it! We ate like royalty, but the spread was a bit amusing, given the fact it was just the two of us, yes two, it's a myth to think I was eating for two alone! Although the leftovers were amazing.
Thursday came and went, and thank God it was a four day weekend, but how timely, I was working on a proposal with a partner who was in trial, and a CFO who is more than committed to the Firm. So like any (crazy) employee, I agreed to take a conference call that Saturday to get the ball rolling on finalizing this proposal before my due date. Looking back, I truly believe God knew all along that Isaac was going to arrive early, because He knew those two weeks of work following Thanksgiving, leading up to my due date, would have put me over the edge! Saturday's call was productive, but annoying at the same time. This was a holiday weekend for God's sake, but hey, no one can ever question my commitment to work, or could think for a second I slacked off or checked out during my pregnancy.
The entire pregnancy I felt pretty darn good. Exercised the entire time, kept running until the 5th month, then resorted to daily walks and lovin' from the hubby; and every now and again, I'd mix in a few prego workouts my girlfriend Ana gave me. But Saturday night that changed. I can't explain it other than I just felt off, and for the first time I threw the prego card and bailed on my Women's Fantasy Football mid-season party.
I woke up Sunday morning feeling a little better, but still not my normal self. We skipped on church to sleep in, and by noon, my brother-in-law was at our house ready for Niner Football. Not feeling the greatest, but wanting to get my daily walk in, I took a stroll to our local Safeway to pick up a few things for our football game lunch spread. I'll have to post pictures because when I say I was huge, you have no idea until you've seen the pictures! I even had an older gentleman in the produce department make a comment, "mom - should you really be out right now?" I just chuckled and told him he sounded like my husband.
Needless to say, that final walk to and from Safeway was just what the doctor ordered to get baby in position to meet his parents! That night before we went to bed, I told Mark to make sure his bag was packed – just in case. I had mine packed for a few weeks by then, but I just had a weird feeling – maybe tonight was the night!
Thursday came and went, and thank God it was a four day weekend, but how timely, I was working on a proposal with a partner who was in trial, and a CFO who is more than committed to the Firm. So like any (crazy) employee, I agreed to take a conference call that Saturday to get the ball rolling on finalizing this proposal before my due date. Looking back, I truly believe God knew all along that Isaac was going to arrive early, because He knew those two weeks of work following Thanksgiving, leading up to my due date, would have put me over the edge! Saturday's call was productive, but annoying at the same time. This was a holiday weekend for God's sake, but hey, no one can ever question my commitment to work, or could think for a second I slacked off or checked out during my pregnancy.
The entire pregnancy I felt pretty darn good. Exercised the entire time, kept running until the 5th month, then resorted to daily walks and lovin' from the hubby; and every now and again, I'd mix in a few prego workouts my girlfriend Ana gave me. But Saturday night that changed. I can't explain it other than I just felt off, and for the first time I threw the prego card and bailed on my Women's Fantasy Football mid-season party.
I woke up Sunday morning feeling a little better, but still not my normal self. We skipped on church to sleep in, and by noon, my brother-in-law was at our house ready for Niner Football. Not feeling the greatest, but wanting to get my daily walk in, I took a stroll to our local Safeway to pick up a few things for our football game lunch spread. I'll have to post pictures because when I say I was huge, you have no idea until you've seen the pictures! I even had an older gentleman in the produce department make a comment, "mom - should you really be out right now?" I just chuckled and told him he sounded like my husband.
Needless to say, that final walk to and from Safeway was just what the doctor ordered to get baby in position to meet his parents! That night before we went to bed, I told Mark to make sure his bag was packed – just in case. I had mine packed for a few weeks by then, but I just had a weird feeling – maybe tonight was the night!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)