It's important to be warm

I hate to jinx anything by praising Benjamin’s sleeping, so I’ll say nothing on the subject. He gave us a hard first night home last Thursday, but since then, oh it’s so true that it gets better every day. He had a weird bit of a cough last night. Maybe I ate something; maybe it’s the AC in the house kicking up something; maybe it’s the fact that we went out in the heat yesterday to visit the pediatrician and he got a bit of pollen in his snozzlette (too small to be a proper snozzle, yet).

My body is healing and the wondrous cocktail of pain pills and happy hormones make things possible. I can manage the stairs and even get up out of bed without five minutes of mental preparation for the perfect position and method of heaving my body up without using any tummy muscles. I look at the incision in the mirror in the bathroom, hawkishly checking it to be sure nothing is amiss. It looks like a Halloween smile, slightly mean yet cheery, white steri-strip tape in curved railroad ties across what would be my bikini line if I ever wore a bikini. By studying it, I can almost believe all this happened. I look at the pictures of the surgery for the same reason. “Hey, that’s ME in that picture. How did that happen? How did this amazing baby get here?”

My breasts are their own entity. I should name them in much the same way as I ended up naming my first bowel movement after the Birth (more on that later, *cough*). My cup has more than runneth over. I’ve been dribbling like a set of bad faucets. I so much as look at Ben and *drip drip drip*. It’s great to not worry that he’s going to need anything other than what I can give him, but I’m getting my toes wet here, and my belly, and there’s little wet drips on the carpet that I find when I’m changing him, etc. etc. This is also daily getting better, either by the supply just finding its demand or some other body voodoo.

I’ve already been down the tricky and threateningly hopeless breastfeeding meltdown. Or at least, the first of a series. Last Wednesday night, still in the hospital, my milk came in, early. Good job Ben! Of course, his enthusiasm for the open bar left me raw and sore in ways that no one who hasn’t felt it could quite relate to. The nipples are unlike anything else on the body, and they bruise and scab in entirely their own way. Or perhaps we would never allow the injury to repeat every 1-3 hours even as we try to heal. That is likely a factor in the bizarrity that is the sore mommy. Since there is absoluletly no middleground of emotion (same as the last month or two of pregnancy) I fell from zero to negative 100 in less than a minute. I was weeping over the pain of breastfeeding only mere seconds after convincing myself to be brave and face the wrath of the latch-on. We had tried to use the good information that we’d acquired, including the visit from the lactation consultant just an hour earlier. As with the laws of luck, my meltdown began just minutes after she’d left for the day. The blessing in this was the nurse on duty, Liz, who took my hand, tears running down my face, milk running down my chest, pathetic all over, and talked me off the ledge then gave me all the time in the world to climb out of the hole I’d fallen into. She babysat the frightened mommy, the quietly alert and desperate-to-help daddy, and their unhappy infant, who just wanted a feed on this new wonderful milk-stuff but couldn’t get his tiny rosebud mouth properly placed on the bricks his mother offered him. Days later, he’s a far better latch, and both Ian and I, with all our coaching, can better understand if he’s latched wrong before I end up feeling like someone’s taken an electric sander to my nips.

But it’s all worth it. This whole ridiculous pregnancy, being hijacked and insane—it’s all led to this perfect little baby. And anyone who says babies don’t smile is just a hater. This baby smiles, and it’s not gas. He’s happy to be here, just like his mama.

Filed by joy at 11:52 am under baby
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And on the eighth day, they built a website:
http://joyian.net

The birth story, along with simply amazing shots of the Caesarian (behind a secondary link, don’t worry), are officially posted for Benjamin’s adoring public.

Filed by joy at 11:44 am under baby
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I encountered this line from Song of Solomon (chap.2) today:
“For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.”

Not only is this beautiful in its own right, but for the past two days, I’ve been calling Benjamin a turtle due to the strength of his neck and the extent to which he stretches it out and beyond what seems possible, especially in the wrong direction when I’m pointing him at a nipple. My little turtle boy, your voice fills our land and is radiant.

Happy first week on the outside, my beamish boy.

Filed by joy at 10:09 am under baby
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I’ve got much longer, much more baby-related posts in the works. In the meanwhile, this morning, after our early feeding, Benjamin and I lay down for a snuggle. I don’t really sleep in the usual sense of the word, but I do have these close-to-surface short dreams. This morning, there were dolphins playing skeeball. It was apparently quite competitive. The whole row of about 8 or 12 machines each had a serious looking dolphin tossing the ball, with all the associated *ding!ding!* that skeeball provides the scoring party.

Good brain; nice of you to offer up something so lovely, especially after all the stress-nightmares related to the hospital.

Filed by joy at 8:54 am under dreams
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We are all home, at least two of us with typically troubling plumbing issues, but that’s another post. This is a short’n’sweet post only to document that baby got his first belly raspberry at 10:20 am (age four days and 9 minutes). He’s still on night schedule, so I’m trying to wake him up during better hours. Baby had no comment on the raspberry, but I thought it went quite well.

Filed by joy at 9:25 am under baby
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This morning I woke up at 6ish. After all, I’ll have to get up at that time tomorrow to get to the hospital, to get checked in and official-ized in time for the 9:30 C-section.

Preparation for the adjustment of the body clock (tick 1)

Yesterday I backed up my hard drive and cleared finished projects off my computer to make room for the onslaught of high-res digital pictures that are inevitable. This morning, I made myself a bowl of cereal and sat down to clean out my inbox. I had a lot of outdated stuff in there. Sure, I intended to deal with all of it in a more timely fashion, but for the most part, it’s clear that I really didn’t miss anything. So I clicked through on a few political emails, sent messages on behalf on the environment and prisoners of conscience and basically did the lowest common denominator of political participation (which is not to say I don’t believe it helps overall. It’s just easier than most of the important work to be done, which makes it possible to actually accomplish). Then there is my elaborate filing system for both personal and business emails, but that’s far too complicated, yet uninteresting, to describe. My inbox is down to 65 messages, 595k. That’s awesome. I always feel so satisfied when I can get the inbox below 100 active messages. By the time I get home from the hospital, I’ll have a few hundred to sort through, and that’s not even including the spam.

Tidy up digital playpen (tick 2)

It’s so quiet in the mornings. I’m not a morning person, but I can appreciate the calm that I know my mother adores about being up with the birds. Moreover, what a perfect opportunity for second breakfast (and perhaps third). I’ll have to fast as of 9pm tonight, and I hate fasting, especially true “nothing to the mouth” fasting. I can’t stand not having a glass of water in front of me. So I’ve been eating nearly constantly to make up for the fast to come. Fasting made the whole external version thing just one more level of unpleasant.

Speaking of, I should document that particular tale. It’s relevant and I will forget the details in the jumble and wonder and noise of actually having this baby. In another post…

Documentation and storytelling (insert tick here when I actually get that done)

I’ve packed my bags for the hospital. Sears’ Baby Book, clothes, baby-record book, camera, snacks (I trust them not in providing ample and tasty nibble!), nursing pillows and other soft things. Not too much, not too little. We live close by and have volunteers who will bring us what goes unremembered until we’re there.

Packing (tick 3)

The baby’s room is sooo beautiful. I just love being in there. It’s bright and cheery and just the sort of space that you’d want for anyone you loved. Everything came together so well. Not simply the crib from Z&E, the dressers Ian painted from Freecycle, my grandmother’s rocking chair, N’s nursing stool, make it so well-appointed and communal in a satisfying way. We found the original paint chips that I first considered for the room and it just so happens that the colors Susie chose are near matches for them in another brand of paint. The crib set that cousin N gave me matches seamlessly with the colors, a product of pure luck we’ll call careful planning. For the shower I was given a baby book and photo album that is the exact same pattern as the crib set, also careful planning of course. I don’t really use photo albums like that, so I’ve put all baby’s cards and notes in it, which is perfect because I never have a place for those things, yet love to save them. The baby book also has fun things to thwart in it. Along with the usual and useful listing of time of birth and when baby makes milestones like holding up his head, it has a page where you note who is the president and how much is a gallon of milk and a gallon of gas. I will have to amuse myself on this page as I refuse to give it simply the common answers. Brave New World, n’at. This may factor in keeping my brain from completely oozing out of my skull if I’m stuck in hospital all week. I love to make lists and find it endlessly comforting.

Like an Anne Rice vampire, I’m preparing myself physically. Washed, shaven, nails clipped and smooth. Ian will paint my toes for me soon. I didn’t get around to a haircut, but at least the mop is a pretty color. As S quoted, “when a woman gives birth, Death holds her hand for a little while”. It will be a very different sort of birth than what she had, but there will still be that element of life&death in the balance. We’ll take some day-before photos, to document the fullest of the belly. I won’t miss this firmness, this pressure and solidity in my body that is not OF my body. There is so much about being pregnant that I won’t miss. In fact, the only thing I can think of that will be missed (and I’ve been thinking on this for days) is that the hair on my legs grows so slowly. Of course, that’s been countered by the fact that my eyebrows seem to have their own source of MiracleGro, so it’s a mixed bag. So I’ve made myself as ready as can be, and who knows when the next time I’ll be able to take such luxuries may be.

The house is also nearly clean. After so many loads of laundry that I’ve lost count, plus the additional runs of the dishwasher, all the baby clothes are clean, as well as most of the toys, as well as all of my clothes, and I even washed my whole pod of whales. Today will be final touches, and a last load of laundry for our bedding.

Cleaning preparation (tick 4)

Acceptance and excitement has dwarfed even my terrors of hospitals. That’s a pretty big statement.

I’ve been over and over the Birth Vision and feel at peace with it. I’ve thought through all the options that I hadn’t given sufficient thought for the past few months of preparation for a non-hospitalized birth. I’m busy trying not to encourage labor’s onslaught, and instead am cooing myself into holding out, never getting to experience the rushes and waters. I feel a little cheated of the process I’d planned to go through. I will get a different sort of work in the surgery and healing, but it’s not the work I’d intended, and I am nothing if not a creature of habit, pattern, and well-made plans.

Of course, the first rule of parenthood is that it’s not about you. It never will be again. I know that. It’s just a wee bit early for kid to be quite so assertive in changing all his mum’s arrangements.

I believe it’s the safest possible option given the baby’s position. Were I to be able to attempt a non-medicated birth, between his footling presentation, crossed legs, and his head back in star-gazing posture, it’s likely I’d be just as torn up as if I’d had a c-section anyway, plus all the risks and real danger that sort of difficult birth could present. There is a time for homeopathic medicine and a time for allopathic medicine. This happens to be the later. I believe in the team that I’ve put together to have this baby and I know that it is all for the best. I may not get all that I wanted, but I will get what is most important and longest lasting. There is no failure here and I’ve nothing to prove nor to make excuses for. Baby, I, and thus Ian will all be healthier and better for this choice, which is the only real option after all.

I don’t have to like hospitals to have this baby in one. Just the same as I don’t have to like being pregnant to be excited about becoming a mother. Nothing is mutually exclusive. All these feelings and states of being exist entirely in the same moment and all of them are real and true. Knowing that I must be in the hospital, preparing for that in every way I can, that is the way to calm myself and make it be a Birth despite all medical intervention. At the end of the day, I will still get to be holding this child I’ve worked so hard to bring about. After all, the work began long before today, and will continue long after.

Mental gymnastics (tick 5)

I’m ready. I’m excited. I’m giddy and happy and scared. And it’s wonderful.

Filed by joy at 8:26 pm under baby
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When they were wild
When they were not yet human
When they could’ve been anything
I was on the other side ready with milk to lure them
And their father, too, each name a net in his hands

Photo of my belly by my doula Gretchen M.
Poem by Louise Erdich, introduced to me by cousin Z.

Filed by joy at 11:57 am under baby, visuals
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Baby is scheduled to make his entrance to the outside on Monday, May 22 in the morning. I am washed under waves of relief in knowing that it’s all going to happen and be done with against sideswiping waves of disappointment and some small degree of fear at the whole medical process. Overall, my head is starting to win over my heart that it’s all ok and safe and fine. Mourning and grieving is finding a balance with excitement that baby will be out of my belly and into my arms in just over a week.

I’ve felt a lot of love come my way over the last few days, people calling and emailing, understanding my emotional state and why this is so important to me. Some who know me well, some friends of friends who have been through it sharing their stories…it’s meant more than I can put to words. Thank you.

Filed by joy at 10:01 pm under baby
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Baby didn’t turn, but he didn’t get stressed either. There is apparently some sort of geometry problem keeping him in place. He’s positioned very awkwardly, knees out like a wedge, head way back like he’s stargazing, neck extended. This does not make for an ability to somersault, which is what he’d need to do to get right. They poked me a lot and it wasn’t in any way pleasant, but it is over. Ian was there, doing his best to keep me sane. My midwife came in, which was unexpected but made it better. She was of great support to me since the doctor that the midwives prefer couldn’t be with me this morning, also unexpected. The other doctor I got was fine, but all the risks and terrors in detail of all that could go wrong just had me crying intermittently all morning while waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting for them to stick me to get the blood-work approved, the IV in, and all the rest. I certainly haven’t improved my opinion of hospitals, though I’m sure they were all doing a perfectly good job. I just loath hospitals.

So, it didn’t work, but it didn’t go horribly wrong either. Now I get to lick my wounds from the FOUR attempts to get an IV into my hands and the crazy-making adrenaline-like medicine they doped me up with. Ugh. Oh yeah, and I FINALLY get to eat and drink, after fasting for 13 hours, which isn’t good for me when I’m not pregnant.

What this means: The hope is that baby will find some miracle way to right himself, but it’s unlikely. So they’re scheduling me for a c-section at the end of next week, or maybe Monday. I’m way too medicated right now to think that one through.

Filed by joy at 10:55 am under baby
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So far this week, in between minor things like finishing up the projects I’ve got going on—you know, the PAID work I do—I’ve had one acupuncture and moxibustion treatment, two chiropractic treatments called The Webster Technique, one home moxibustion treatment thanks to Ian, and tomorrow I go in at the unreal hour of 6:15am so I can be all registered and setup for the external version at 7:30am.

This afternoon I’m meeting with my wonderful doula and she’s going to try to help me chill out about what may happen tomorrow. There will be lunch, and perhaps a pedicure. There might also be some crying on my part, but that’s to be determined. I hope not. I’ve already done that this week.

Obviously, I’ll post another update tomorrow. That is unless I go into labor and have this baby. What?

Filed by joy at 11:22 am under baby, life
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