2 weeks

This morning, I was well enough to stand long enough to cook a nice breakfast.  Brian would have done it for me, but it was nice to feel healthy enough to do it on my own.  Later, I walked a kilometer, which was a milestone for me.  It's so nice to have positive signs of recovery.

We drove Silas to Nahant to see the ocean for the first time.  He slept in his carseat and then slept in the Boba wrap while we took a very brief walk on the beach (in fact, he has slept soundly every time we have ever put him in the Boba wrap), so he didn't exactly SEE the ocean, but we were glad we were brave enough to take him out.  As soon as I'm stronger, we'll take him to parks, and cafes and museums, I hope - those days are coming soon.

Through the haze of sleep deprivation, physical trauma and hormonal shifts, one of the greatest joys of these early weeks has been seeing Brian become a father.  I have been hopelessly grateful for his patience, his constant reassurance, his willingness to learn and master every new skill, his whimsy and creativity in playing with Silas, his expert housekeeping, his good humor, and so many more things.  It hasn't been easy for me to feel very competent as a mother, just yet - hopefully that will come - but it is so comforting to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I chose the right man to be the father for my brand new son, and to know that I'm not alone.

Alien hand syndrome

Silas, tragically, suffers from alien hand syndrome.  His hands often punch him in the face, and they even try to get in between him and nipples, preventing him from feeding.  We actually have to "straitjacket" him at night so his alien hands don't hit him and wake him up.  I think he knows his hands are out to get him, because he often tries to eat them (luckily for everyone he is foiled by his lack of teeth).

The neck of a champion

Silas was able to raise his head up when held ~30° from the vertical pretty soon after birth!  I'm not sure how unusual that is, but I think it is a bit rare.  Today, we tried giving him some tummy-time, and he picked his head up and rotated it to the other side!  There was much grunting and wriggling.  I used it as an opportunity to practice praising him for his effort, rather than his talent.

Postpartum mishmash update by Lissa

Physical recovery: The first 3-4 days I had very little pain, just a HUGE AMOUNT of uncomfortable swelling associated with my injuries. I looked white as a sheet and really puffy. The last 2 days I've had more pain, whenever I move. Limb swelling is totally gone and I have lost a little more than 50% of my total pregnancy weight gain. I am absurdly, absurdly weak. The day we went to the hospital I went for a nice 2 mile walk and today I get winded - no really - walking around for 10 minutes. The physical weakness has really been shocking.    


Got home Wednesday afternoon; my mother just left a few hours ago. Have had a couple visitors which we enjoyed until last night when it suddenly became too much and we both wanted to be left alone. My mom was a real life saver. When I arrived home I'd had 8 hours of sleep in the last 5 days and I was So. Dead. Tired.     

Nursing: Although I was fortunate to have early guidance from lactation consultants in the hospital, a single bad latch on each side caused big, very painful cracks/scabs that have just now healed up. As of today, after the initial pain of latch, nursing is finally painless. Silas isn't having any trouble - he has been latching like a pro since birth, and if I put him on my chest he successfully crawls to a breast and latches himself on. I know this is instinct but I'm very impressed :)    

Emotions: Until yesterday, an alarming and difficult pattern: I would feel happy (if tired) in the daytime, but at about 4:30, as the sun was completely down, I would become physically shaky, and start to cry, and feel incredibly overwhelmed and dark and worried. It was like a switch had been thrown; I felt unable to cope and my head filled with worries about SIDS and Autism and getting enough sleep and whether I was doing OK and on and on. My appetite completely disappeared and I was unable to eat any dinner. Luckily it was sudden and irrational enough that (somewhat ironically) it was crystal clear to me that it was hormonal and probably temporary, so I maintained an awareness of that, but it was still very hard and on a few of the days I sobbed for about an hour. Never done that before. Last night I felt a bit of that darkness but it was much, much better... I think the hormonal insanity is tapering off, although I anticipate the evenings to be emotionally challenging for a while longer. During this time I've leaned on Brian more than I ever have before, and he has been an absolute rock, reassuring me and giving me hugs and telling me I'm doing well.

Sleeping: For the last 3 nights Silas has slept in 4-hour blocks which is a godsend. Each time, for 2 of the 3 blocks, we put him down and he went right to sleep, and for the other block, he needed some more "advanced" soothing for a little while (yesterday, he needed to nurse for almost 90 minutes with little breaks...). I think this is probably as lucky as it gets. I've gotten ~6.5 hours at night and another hour or two in naps during the day (more, surely, now that the visitor parade has lessened) and Brian has gotten ~7-8 at night.     

Brian: he's tired, but having a wonderful time. He has been playing Silas Beatles tunes and reading to him from bird guides and other books with black and white illustrations. He's become an expert at soothing Silas with spinning and rocking, and is generally taking to fatherhood like a duck to water. I was absolutely certain he would, but he wasn't so sure. So beautiful to see him being such a good parent.    

Silas himself!!!! He's absolutely amazing. He spends hours each day calm and alert, looking around at everything, just fascinated by color boundaries and faces... When he's being held upright, he holds his head up and looks around to track sounds - I'm so impressed. (I knew he was a strong baby, from all that absurd movement, and also he was 2 weeks late.) So far he doesn't seem to cry unless there's a specific problem, which is really good for our sanity... Hates diaper changes, but Brian is getting so quick at them that sometimes he doesn't cry. He went to the pediatrician yesterday and had begun gaining back towards his birth weight, yay! He's so tiny and sweet and soft. When he nurses he gets this incredibly serious expression on his face. So so cute. 

First pediatrician visit

At his first pediatrician visit at age 4 days, Silas weight 7 pounds 8 ounces, 4 ounces more than when he left the hospital at 2 days old.  His newborn screen came back negative, which was great news, and the pediatrician declared him healthy.  He slept all the way to the office in his car seat and nursed like a champ in a spare room.  He also peed on the exam table.  Healthy boy.

Labor, morning 2, view from the side chair

Sometimes boulders stay put for a long time, then something gets them unexpectedly rolling!  After her last exam showed a dispiriting 1-2 cm of dilation (after at least 36 hrs of painful contractions), the midwife says Lissa is 9 cm dilated as of this morning!

We're relieved that the epidural was the right choice - it seems to have allowed Lissa to relax, and everything to line up and get in gear, including baby's rotation to LOA!  The delivery phase is "scheduled", as much as anything about this process can be scheduled, to begin in 15 minutes, at 10:30.

Here is Lissa, trying to rest and relax in preparation for stage 3.

Labor and Delivery

After giving the house a final once-over, we left for the hospital in the first serious snowstorm of the season to begin the induction.  It felt like Christmas Eve.  I had really wanted to go into labor naturally, knowing an induced labor was likely to be more painful and more intervention-filled than a natural one, but we induced because I was nearly 42 weeks and on balance, it was riskier to continue the pregnancy than to induce.

Induction started at 8 PM, 11 days after my due date.  I was admitted, got into a hospital gown, and hooked up to the monitors.  I was given an IV line, but it only worked on the 3rd try - the first two attempts were "intrusions" which left painful swellings on the backs of both of my hands.  For the next 40 hours, it was a bit of a blur, but here's what I remember.

Soon after admission I was given a dose of Cytotec after an exam confirmed that I still had absolutely no dilation, and was therefore not able to take a Foley bulb.  It was expected that the Cytotec would cause at least some dilation, but little in the way of contractions, and that after several hours I would receive a Foley bulb, and finally Pitocin to ramp up contractions.

Well, that's not what happened.  The first dose of Cytotec caused painful contractions about 4-5 minutes apart, and labor was on.  I started having to cope quite consciously through the contractions  after only an hour or two, and it didn't get any easier from there.

After about 6 hours I was checked again and I was pretty devastated to learn that after all those contractions - and no sleep - I was STILL not dilated and barely effaced.  No Foley bulb could be placed.  I received another dose of Cytotec, but it was delayed because Cytotec can't be given while contractions are more frequent than 3 in 10 minutes and mine occasionally were.  Once I got the second dose contractions once again ramped up.  It was a hard time - I was obligated to remain in bed on monitors for much of the time because Cytotec can cause uterine hyperstimulation and we needed to make sure the baby was coping OK.  There were periods of several hours when I was allowed to get up and move around, only occasionally free of the monitor - most of the time I had a portable monitor attached.  When I could move, Brian and I walked through the hallways and my birth room, and I leaned against the wall so Brian could provide counterpressure during contractions.  When I was stuck in bed, I would try to relax my whole body and focus on areas that didn't hurt and breathe through the contractions.  Brian would let me know when they had passed their peak and were about to go away.

Unfortunately, during this long period of time Silas' heartrate occasionally dipped after contractions, which may have indicated a compressed umblilical cord.  This was ENORMOUSLY stressful because when heartrate decelerations occurred, the door would swing open and a group of people would CHARGE  in to cramp an oxygen mask over my face, turn up my fluid drip, and make sure I was on my left side.  Silas always recovered, and his general condition was always good, but the decelerations are the only thing that the doctors and midwives had to go on, so when they occurred, they were taken very seriously.  At one point, there were two very SERIOUS decelerations and I was told that if they happened a few more times I would be taken for a crash c-section.  It.  Was.  Stressful.

Ultimately, after about 36 hours of labor, we found out that I had dilated only 1 cm and was only 80% effaced.  I hadn't slept at all and it was already nighttime, and I knew I had a whole 9 centimeters to go.  I couldn't be given Cytotec because of the decelerations and the frequency of my contractions, but a Foley bulb couldn't be placed, and they were waiting to start Pitocin until the contractions calmed a bit, but they were strengthening, not calming.

After a tearful consult with a midwife, I decided to opt for an epidural so I could get some rest, anticipating that labor would be a long, long road and would very likely require the Foley bulb, and then Pitocin, which would surely make things more painful.  Fortunately at the point that I requested the epidural I was still coping relatively well with the contractions, which were every 3-5 minutes.  Nevertheless the epidural process was difficult, because I had to hunch over the large belly and remain motionless, even during contractions, as the epidural was placed.  After placement, I had some diminution of pain within 20 minutes, but even after my right side was completely numb, my left side had full sensation.  It took about 90 minutes to take full effect, but once it did, it was an extremely good epidural.

The epidural let me sleep for about 90 minutes.  The rest of the time we continued with the tense monitoring situation, people charging in occasionally...  I could feel all the contractions and some were strong enough to breathe through, even though they were no longer painful.  My water broke on its own shortly after receiving the epidural.

After almost 40 hours of labor (and about 5 hours after the epidural was placed) the midwife came in to check on me, and despite the fact that the family practice doctor didn't want to check me - to avoid demoralizing me even more - the midwife thought she should have a look.  It was so, so fortunate that she did because lo and behold, I was 9.5 centimeters dilated and the baby was at +2 station already.  So, I never received Pitocin, amniotomy, or a Foley bulb - the Cytotec alone was enough to trigger my whole labor.  This is probably because I had lost my mucus plug on my own the morning of the induction.  My body was probably very close to natural labor, and apparently, I am a late-but-fast dilator.

Two hours later it was time to push.  The room started to fill up, and I started to tune out.  By the end of pushing there were probably 15-20 people crowded in, but I was in a completely different world.  I think Brian will have to describe what it was like.

What can I say about pushing?  It was enormously hard work.  I worked as hard as I possibly could.  The heartrate decelerations happened a few times, and because of that a NICU team was called in to stand by.  Most of the time Silas' heartrate was great.  I pushed for 2 hours.  At the very end, he had been crowning for 15 minutes and still wasn't coming out.  My body was about to tear very badly, and it was very important to get him out right away, so the midwife cut an episiotomy even though the hospital really dislikes them.  By the time the episiotomy was cut, the room was packed - medical students, residents, nurses, the midwife, an OB, the NICU team, and goodness knows who else.  I was completely focused on pushing and barely aware of the crowd.

One small push later, Silas was born.  He cried right away, but the shock of being stuck for so long had stunned him and he required resuscitation for a few minutes.  This was enormously tense, but it's difficult for me to remember because I was barely conscious.  I was so weak and exhausted that I couldn't hold my own arms up.  After Silas was placed on my chest, a nurse helped me hold my arms up and he tried to nurse, but he couldn't be positioned correctly because I was lying flat so my tears and episiotomy could be stitched up.  When the repairs were done, my bed was raised and Silas latched on immediately without any help and began to nurse.

The sutures, nursing and postpartum cleanup took an hour or two, and during that time I asked for a lot of cranberry juice - I was extremely thirsty, faint, and had low blood sugar.  Brian tells me I actually drank 16 cups of the stuff and there were cranberry juice containers piled all over the room!!  I had no idea.

Update, later:  I wrote this summary in the very early days after Silas' birth.  It's unfortunately the case that everything about my labor and delivery, except for getting a healthy little boy out of it, was different than I had hoped.  I find that so far, I feel matter-of-fact about my difficult delivery, but as the experience has time to "sink in" I may write more about it.

Labor, night 2, view from the cot.

Labor feels like a giant boulder with Lissa and the baby strapped to it.  It seems to be following an invisible groove at its own pace.  We are all (Lissa mostly, but also me, and the 20+ medical staff we've seen so far) trying to push it in the general direction of a speedy, uncomplicated birth, but it stops when it wants to, or goes when its invisible groove bids it go, taking a right when we'd rather it go straight, or speeding ahead when we need it to slow down, and it's hard to tell if our efforts are adding up to anything or not.

LDR 6 is finally quiet, and for one of the
first times in 48 hours, Lissa is asleep.

Almost nothing has gone according to our plan - the postdate induction, slow-to-start dilation, cord compression, long periods of wired monitoring, an IV drip, an epidural - the list goes on.  Lissa has had to do things and endure things that would be terrifying for anyone, and in many cases are particularly difficult for her. Every time that boulder rolls in a new, unexpected direction, and a doctor asks us if we want to try something new to get it rolling forward again, the only thing Lissa wants to know is if baby is ok, and if it will help baby.  I feel like I have to especially watch out for her, because she is so focused on the baby, she isn't thinking of herself.  It's also hard to escape the thought that if I had been a better support for her in some way, then things would have gone more smoothly.

When I looked over at Lissa a while ago, she was lying with her eyes closed, and she had put back on the uncomfortable oxygen mask that she was told was not longer necessary since baby's heart rate had stopped decelerating.  She must have decided to put it on just in case it gave baby an edge.

I have been typing very softly, because I am finally hearing the sounds of Lissa mercifully slipping off to sleep, but just now her blood pressure cuff has activated automatically, tightening around her arm to take one of its 15 minute measurements, accompanied by hissing, clicking, and bonging.  Lissa is so tired, she doesn't even wake up.

41 weeks

41 weeks.

Yesterday the babe passed an auscultated acceleration test with flying colors, and my blood pressure remains nice and low, so it seems we are still healthy.  Going insane, but healthy.

Today it is snowing.  I have napped, played games, cleaned, gone to the grocery store for indulgent goodies (overly expensive fresh cut fruit and berries, caramel dip for apples, and a chocolate milk), and now I am dancing around the living room in bright green Crocs to every single Beatles song I have, which is a lot, 309 in fact.

Hey, you do what you have to to stay sane...

This baby has just less than 5 more days to make an appearance naturally, and then it's induction time.

Pictures from weeks 39 and 40

 At the Parker Farm field gleaning (39 weeks).  It was frigid - a wind chill near zero - but we dug carrots and picked rabe, broccoli and Brussels sprouts.

 Proof that I really did was still swimming 1 day before full term.

 Brian tries out the Boba wrap with Sagan...

 And Harriet....

I had to do jumping jacks to stay warm in very cold weather because my coat does not cover the bump!

Baby unimpressed by due date

40 weeks and 1 day.  I am officially (slightly) overdue.

I've stopped going in to work, as of 39+6.  I don't feel too bad about it; I didn't miss a single day of work (including weekends, except when out of town) for my entire pregnancy, and I left my colleagues with all of the data and writing I said I would, plus some extra.  I'm trying to work on my paper here at home but my focus is so poor it's hard to get anything done.

Yesterday, my due date, I slept in late, made breakfast, played a strategy game for a while to get my mind off of waiting, went for a rambling 3-mile walk to the Grownup's Playground to use the exercise machines (THAT got me some funny looks), read a child development book for a while, took a bath, sterilized the manual breast pump (the only thing I could think of that hadn't been done), cleaned the kitchen, doted on the cats, helped Brian make dinner, chatted with Brian about a new PNAS paper on neuroimaging, and then stared at my computer screen doing nothing for several hours before going to bed, mostly because I couldn't think of what else to do.  This is hilariously unlike me.  I literally cannot remember the last time I got bored.

Oh yes, and I fielded a large number of phone calls, chats, and text messages asking if the baby had been born.  I have never felt less patient or more irritable in my entire life.  Most grating are the suggestions that I should just be happy and smile and enjoy my "time off".  When staring one of humanity's most painful, emotionally challenging and life-altering experiences in the face - which by the way will arrive without warning, day or night - do YOU feel like "chilling out"?  I didn't think so.

Anyway, as everybody says, there's nothing to do about this, and it's too early to begin the decision-making process about induction, because a lot can happen between now and next week.  Nothing to do, that is, except practice zen waiting.

Today, all I have done is sleep late, eat one of my frozen portions of rice pudding (hey, I'm overdue, I figure it was warranted), and play a game.  My mind is turning in to mush.

I did have a bit of a chat with the baby yesterday.  Baby, I said, I know it's warm and cozy in there, but you might like the outside world better than you think.  We have sunshine and wind, space to stretch, and everything a little baby like you needs to be comfortable.  There are lots of warm blankets out here and dozens of people want to give you a cuddle.  I know we haven't had a baby before, but give us a chance - we promise we'll do everything we can to make you happy and comfortable.  There's so much we want to show you and I just can't wait to give you a snuggle.  Please come out now?

Waiting

All the baby supplies are ready, the freezer and pantry are stocked, the house is clean, the bag is packed... now we wait.

This is a strange time.

This weekend, there's nothing left to do, other than keep the house clean, which takes little effort.  It's gotten very cold in the last few days, with howling winds and temperature far below freezing.  It seems like it's night most of the time (which it is, really).  It's very quiet here except for the wind and the birds scrabbling at the feeder.  The clock ticking on the bookshelf seems loud.  The apartment seems a bit chilly even though it's very well insulated and the heat is hardly needed - the cats want to cuddle all day long.  Depending on how you look at it, it's either extremely peaceful or unbearably tense.

For the most part I've enjoyed the last week or so.  Between bouts of working feverishly on my paper, I've taken long walks along the river, and stopped in at two cafes for hot drinks, admired the bright winter sun and fallen leaves, and so on.  I've taken hot baths and leisurely swims.  I've napped.  Brian and I have had some lovely strolls together, and we've enjoyed being able to walk out the door and head to a cafe or run an errand with no planning whatsoever.  We've baked cookies and had long conversations and lazed around in bed.

It's a challenge for me mentally, though.  I have contractions all the time, and they've slowly become stronger over the last few weeks, although they still don't really hurt and are definitely not labor.  They are, however, uncomfortable enough that they are difficult to ignore, which means I find myself in a constant state of alert confusion.  And while I'm generally fairly comfortable, I've had a few days over the last few weeks that were pretty miserable - hip pain or total sleep deprivation or both.  Nighttime can be particularly challenging.  While Brian snoozes away, I am often kept up by contractions, non-specific discomforts, or constant vivid dreams.  "Tossing and turning" isn't actually so easy at 9 months pregnant - it's more of a coordinated activity than a spontaneous one - and it can be hard to sleep.

So, I'm doing my best to be patient.  It's not so bad.  I've been so lucky to have so few discomforts, and I know it.  I'm not entirely comfortable, but the hardest part for me is waiting to find out how I'll feel once the baby arrives.  When we made the decision to become parents, of course we knew we were stepping into the unknown.  But like every big life decision, we did our best to reflect on our qualities, abilities and circumstances in order to decide if it would be a good choice - and we decided that our best guess was that we would love being parents.  My best guess is that I'll find it a privilege and a joy - and the really crucial thing is, I think my child deserves a mother who finds parenting a privilege and a joy.  So as I wait, for the baby to arrive and to discover who I am as a mother, I am hoping that I knew myself well enough to make a good decision, because it will affect this little person for an entire lifetime.

In week 36 of pregnancy...

1. Scrubbed kitchen top to bottom
2. Cleaned inside of toaster, silverware holder, potato drawer, knife block, dish drainer, rice cooker, and anything else that looked even a little dingy
3.  Made sure that all closets (and the basement storage area, and the garage) were organized, clutter-free and clean
4.  Made sure that every baby supply was washed, folded and neatly put away (in the proper kit if necessary, otherwise in the closet) and that the bassinet is ready for a baby!
5.  Finished stockpiling basic staple foods and added muffins, cookies and other goodies
6.  Programmed all relevant phone numbers (pediatrician, midwife) into phone
7.  Set up GrubHub with credit card information to make ordering food easy
8.  Wrote down details for how to get groceries delivered
9.  Put finishing touches on guide for helpers
10.  Wrote "birth plan" note for hospital staff and baked them cookies, and packed away in hospital bag
11.  Washed and folded every single piece of laundry in the house
12.  Reorganized dresser
13.  Removed all questionable items from refrigerator
14.  Finished writing all thank you notes
15.  Washed down floor and table on porch
16.  Made huge list of all data, writing and figures for collaborators and left them in open-access repositories; generally wrapped up dozens of loose ends at work
17.  Installed infant insert in car seat and attempted to practice buckling and unbuckling!
18.  Mopped floors, scrubbed grout in bathroom, scrubbed the cats' food tray, dusted windowsills, and many more small cleaning tasks
19.  Sewed a rice pack for use during labor
20.  Sewed tie-backs on all curtains
21.  Arranged for 2 different cat-carers to be on call
21.  Finished writing reminders for my post-partum self about exactly who needs to be emailed (all emails pre-written with addresses pre-selected) and who needs to be called, and exactly which people need to be informed based on when the birth occurs

That's not even half of it.

I'm thinking there's something to this whole "nesting" thing...

Now, if only we can maintain the apartment in this perfect sparkling state of cleanliness until the baby arrives!

Getting ready

You'll be born in just a few weeks!  We're trying to make everything ready for your arrival.

 Here's our couch.  Maybe one day my laptop will look funny and old-fashioned to you!  On the table is a kit of nursing supplies - books, snacks, and other helpful things.  To the right of the couch you can just see a nursing pillow.

 Here is our little keyboard.  Soon we'll be playing music for you.

 Here's where Harriet and Sagan eat.

 Here's your bouncy seat.  On the bookshelf are all of your books and our books about parenting and child development.  We're trying so hard to do a good job!

 It's November, so we have both light jackets and parkas ready.  The backpack in the middle is actually your diaper bag, all packed.

 The bathroom now has a big trash can and a wet bag for all those diapers...

 We have some big boxes because supplies for you have just arrived in the mail.  Boxes make Harriet and Sagan pretty frisky...

 Papa is reading a book about how to help me in labor, having some cheese for a snack, and doing math problems for fun!

 I have been eating lots of healthy fruits and vegetables for the last 7 months!  You were grown on Farmer Steve's organic CSA vegetables.

 Here is the kitchen.

 We have a little bathtub just for you, hanging in the bathroom.

 These are all the vitamins I've been taking for almost a year!  I also need to drink lots and lots of water to keep both of us hydrated, and there's some special lotion for my belly.  You can also see the Tranquil Turtle - who knows, maybe you'll remember it, or maybe you'll hate it and we'll get rid of it when you're 2 weeks old!  (It plays ocean sounds and projects soothing lights on the ceiling.)

 Here are your special towels.  Much more colorful than our towels!

 Here is your bed, right next to ours.  Your sheets haven't arrived in the mail yet, though.  There are lots of pillows where I sleep because it's hard to get comfy with such a big belly!

 Here are all the cloth diapers, all washed and ready.

 Here is the mobile diaper kit!

 Our hospital bag is almost all packed and ready to go... You can see the quilt I sewed for you, and some celebratory apple cider, and some gatorade for me to drink during labor!

 Here is the painting Grandma Susie made for you - she calls you the Little Chickadee! It was signed by all the people at a party we had for you.

 Here's your closet.  There are stacks of freshly washed blankets, burp cloths, quilts and clothes.  We have some medical supplies for you, extra diapers and wipes, and toys, too.

 Here are our violins, just waiting for some duets.

 And Papa's guitar.

 We want to spend the first few weeks of your life focusing on YOU.  So we've stockpiled some groceries so we don't have to go shopping or think about chores too often.

We've also stockpiled some supplies for us and our guests like toothpaste and hand sanitizer and tissues.  You never know!

 Here we are, next to the giant stack of boxed supplies that arrived a few days ago.  Now everything is clean and put away.

Finally, here is your car seat, just waiting for you!

Cats

Here are pictures of the cats snuggling up to the baby through every stage of pregnancy!