4 weeks — a semi-coherent review

Wow. My sweet baby is 4 weeks old today.

What. A. Blur.

The past month has been packed with more joy — and, surprisingly, more heart-achiness — than I possibly could have anticipated. No one tells you quite how difficult the first days with a newborn are (likely because people are far too sleep-deprived to remember much about this season).

I wouldn't go back. I'm so in love with my son — my heart is so stuffed full — that it hurts. I'm trying to pay attention. I know this season will pass so quickly and that he'll only be brand-new this one time (he's already outgrown some clothes and is out of newborn diapers!).

I love that this is my view a good portion of my day:

Then again, some moments I'm also so frustrated and helpless that I cry right along with the baby, thinking, "What the heck have I gotten myself into?"

On all counts, I am seriously in over my head.

I thought about waiting until I was through the tunnel, so to speak, before writing about this. But, while I'd certainly have a better perspective (and perhaps a much more impressive one), I think I'd also lose a lot of the details in the fog of new parenthood. So, here goes — an honest account right in the thick of it. I don't expect this to be interesting to everyone, but that's okay. It's helpful to write about my world — and my world is one of diapers and spit-up and boobies right now.

After a day full of sweet visitors on Asher's birthday (Saturday 1-1), we came home from the hospital Sunday around noon. My mom was here at our condo waiting for us with a huge lunch, bless her.

I remember saying before Asher arrived that if I didn't have a particularly difficult labor, maybe my mom wouldn't need to go to the trouble of staying with us (she still works). Boy, was that stupid. She ended up staying five days! I don't know what we'd have done without her — she cared for us so we could care for the baby (and got lots of Grandma time in with the baby as well).

Overlake has new moms and their babies come into their Women & Infant Center for a mother-baby appointment 48 hours after going home from the hospital, and I'm so glad. I was having tremendous difficulty feeding Asher (my milk wasn't in yet, and anyway, the kid couldn't latch — he just bobbed on and off the breast, stiffened, and cried bloody murder) and he was a GROUCHY newborn, but I didn't know enough to know things weren't going right. When we took him in, he'd gone from 8 lbs. 12 oz. at birth to 7 lbs. 9 oz. Anytime there's more than a 10% weight loss, they're concerned, and we were closer to 15%.

The lactation nurse told us we needed to supplement Asher with formula to get his weight back up. I was disappointed, feeling badly that I hadn't known that my baby wasn't getting enough and worried that maybe this would screw up my hopes of breastfeeding, but frankly, at that point I'd have stood on my head if it meant my baby wasn't so miserable.

I was given a breastfeeding pillow (a real one from My Brest Friend (clever name, eh?), not that dratted Boppy, which is useless), a nipple shield, plastic syringes to "prime" the nipple shield with formula, and lots of instructions. I was so relieved the tears flowed right there in the exam room — I was simultaneously so exhausted and so relieved to have some help. She was kind and gracious and above all, patient.

I then walked to the room next door to pick up a few more nursing bras, and promptly cried on the sweet lady there as well.

Justin and Mom and I went to Babies R'Us to pick up formula and some other necessities, and THEY WERE OUT OF NEWBORN FORMULA. How does that happen at a baby store? So, I cried on a clerk in the middle of Babies R'Us, too.

Tears on three strangers in one day. Humbling, humbling (So many kind souls have reminded me this is normal, especially in the early weeks).

I went home and promptly began my new routine: feed, pump, supplement with a bottle of formula, wash pump parts. Feed, pump, supplement with a bottle of formula, wash pump parts. It was a lot of work, but with the help of Justin and my mom, it was doable (things were decidedly more difficult once mom left and J returned to work). We had another appointment 2 days later, and Ash was gaining weight really well. A week after the initial appointment, he'd gained a pound back. Victory! We were told we no longer needed to supplement or pump.

During this time, Asher wasn't sleeping much at all. Every time he'd fall asleep and we'd put him down on his back, he'd gasp and cough and wheeze and be awake within 5 minutes or less. Not sure what else to do, we had Asher sleep on one of our chests each night. Justin and I dozed a bit, but neither one of us got much sleep that first 2 weeks. I'd heard newborns were very noisy, but this was ridiculous — putting him on his back terrified me. It sounded like he was struggling to breathe. Here's an example of what he sounds like:



So, after finally breaking down in sobs worrying about my son (again, with the crying — it's a general theme these days but I'm trying to just accept it), back to the pediatrician's office I went. Turns out Asher has some mild laryngomalacia (floppy, underdeveloped larynx — click on the link if you're curious — I'd never heard of it before). He'll grow out of it with time, and though it can make him more prone to ear infections and he's a bit reflux-y, the condition is pretty benign and he'll grow out of it gradually over the next 1-2 years (heh). Still, the kid couldn't sleep (and neither could we).

After another sleepless few nights, I decided to try putting Asher on his stomach to sleep during the day (when I could watch him closely), having read that it can help kids with LM. He slept 2 hours the very first try. We've been putting him on his tummy ever since and for a newborn, the kid has slept much more peacefully. Because it's a bit more risky to put a kid on their stomach, we installed a motion/breathing monitor today. Hopefully this means even more sleep for me, as I've been repeatedly getting up to feel Ash's back to make sure he's still breathing now that he's so quiet. :)

What a difference. I still have to be careful to keep him from crying too much — crying makes the stridor (wheezing on intake of breath) much worse. But Ash is getting more sleep now and so are we! Granted, this doesn't mean we're getting loads of sleep (who does with a newborn? With feedings every 3-ish hours, we're still thoroughly exhausted) but at least it's more in the typical range of exhaustion.

Our second big challenge has been with breastfeeding, but that's a doozy and will have to wait til another post. My little turkey is hungry. Again. :)

Asher is here!

What a blur the past 23 days have been. I never thought I'd return to the same post so many times in vain hopes of completing it!

First, the stats:

Asher Dylan Lawlis was born 1-1-11 (New Year's Day) at 2:03 a.m. He weighed 8 lbs. 12 oz. and measured 20 1/2 inches long.

I easily admit that I'm biased, but I really do think he is one of the prettiest newborns I've ever laid eyes on:



Overall, the birth went very well, though not at all according to plan. The Tuesday before my due date, I went in for my weekly checkup and my blood pressure was really high. My BP usually runs quite low and had stayed low throughout my pregnancy, so the doc was concerned. After running an ultrasound and a non-stress test which showed that Baby was doing just fine, Dr. Werner sent me in to L&D at Overlake to have them run some lab tests and monitor me for a few hours . . . and told me to take my bags "just in case."

It was a bit of a rush, but all the same I didn't think they'd admit me quite yet. After keeping an eye on me, they sent me home and put me on bedrest.

I wasn't thrilled about bedrest — I'd worked further into my maternity leave than planned, and so my list of household to-do's was quite long. Bedrest doesn't lend itself well to to-do lists, but I did my best to stay planted on the couch.

I also worried at this point that my lack of activity would delay the onset of labor and I'd have to be induced. I'd been taking long walks, getting acupuncture, etc., in hopes of encouraging baby to come as soon as he was ready. Wasn't sure how doing nothing was going to impact the timing.

Turns out, it didn't slow things down at all. Thursday night, the 30th, labor began. After some minor cramping in the morning, contractions started to intensify around 5 or 6 p.m. I also had a little bit of bleeding for the first time in my pregnancy. Still, I wasn't positive that "this is it." I sat down on the couch with Justin and told him, "Uh, I think I might be in labor." His eyebrows quickly raised and stayed in that position for most of the next few days.

The pain continued to intensify and I lost the plug a few hours later. We called our doula around 9 p.m. but I still wanted some time on our own as long as things were fairly manageable.

At my urging, Justin went and played around on the computer for a while to distract himself. He was very amused to emerge from the office to find me dancing around to Jackson 5 to keep my mind off the pain.

Margene arrived at midnight and helped me deal with the pain of contractions via different positions and breathing.

At 2:30 a.m. my contractions were consistently 2-3 minutes apart and 1 minute long and Margene suggested that we head for the hospital. It was very icy, so we took our time on the quiet roads. Justin told me on the way to the hospital that our doula would have suggested heading to Overlake a few hours earlier, but she felt I was coping really well, which I took as a big encouragement.

Once at Overlake, we got two pieces of disappointing news: 1) I was still only 1 cm dilated and 80% effaced, and 2) my BP was high again. The grouchy nurse told me that I wouldn't be able to walk the halls and that I'd need to be monitored much more closely, get the heplock (iv) right away in case I needed meds to bring my BP down, etc. I was really bummed.

Then back labor began.

Holy moly.

It was rough.

Because of all the extra monitoring, it was at least another 2 hours before I could get into a hot bath. At 5 a.m. shifts switched and I got a much kinder nurse, which made a big difference. I chilled out in the bath for at least an hour, then began rotating between the birth ball, bed, and the rocking chair. My BP remained high, so I wasn't allowed to go far, but I did as much as I was able to do in the room. In addition to continually changing positions, I found low moaning and focused breathing extremely helpful.

The rest of my timeline is a bit of a blur, because basically Friday doesn't exist for me, but here's what I remember.

Friday mid-morning (my due date — the 31st) my pain was so intense that I was starting to lose it. I remember watching my friend go through this emotional transition during her own son's birth — suffering and feeling so exhausted that you're not sure how much further you can go. I knew to expect this, but it didn't make it much easier. They did another check and I was still at 2 cm. Labor seemed to have stalled — my contractions were now much further apart (for a while they were up to about 7 or 8 minutes apart).

The doc suggested breaking my water, which I was open to, but I also knew that this put me on a timeline — if I didn't have the baby in the next 18 hours, it would mean a c-section, which I really wanted to avoid. So we first tried to lower my pain level a bit with a medication called Nubain to see if that would allow me to relax and dilate further. In some ways, it was quite helpful — my BP came down and I was able to walk. Also, I was still able to feel my contractions, but the pain was far less intense. Early in the afternoon they checked me again and I was at 2 1/2 cm. Twenty hours in, and I was at 2 1/2 cm.

My doc was encouraging but straightforward with me — she laid out options for moving labor forward while also being honest about the fact that c-section was in the back of her mind if those options didn't work. Dr. Werner was a very new doctor to me — my own doc was on vacation — but I was thankful to have another doc who was kind and patient and who I felt I could trust.

Another note: Justin was amazing. I know it was really difficult for him to see me suffering, but he hung in there with me and did whatever he could to encourage and support me.

They broke my water and gave me another dose of Nubain to deal with the more painful contractions until the anesthesiologist was available. (I've seen people try to deal with Pitocin contractions without an epidural and had no desire to add my name to the ranks).

I can honestly say there are few times I've been as happy to see anyone as I was to see the anesthesiologist as he walked through the door. I was nervous for the epidural, but he was such a pro — he was done so quickly that I hardly had time to be worried. I do remember asking the anesthesiologist if I could hug him and telling him that I was quite sure I loved him . . . I'm sure he hears that all the time.

It was heaven. Yes, one leg was "deader" than the other one and it felt very strange to not be able to feel my legs, but having the pain taken out of the equation allowed me to regain my faculties and be myself again. Though I was confined to the bed, I was able to move my feet and scoot around on the bed as needed with some assistance.

The hardest part about going the route I did was that I felt in some way that I was letting others down, especially my doula. I'd planned to work very hard for a medication/intervention-free birth, and here I was getting the full meal deal of all the hospital had to offer. Margene was very encouraging, however, and did her best to lay my fears to rest.

(Leave it to me to be worried about what my doula thinks during labor).

The easiest part was that we were very fortunate — at no point were there big concerns about Baby's heart rate. He didn't show any signs of stress in response to the Pitocin, etc. I was so thankful that we didn't have any of those kinds of scares.

Twenty-seven hours into labor, I was finally at 5 cm. Hallelujah!

From there, things moved pretty quickly (thanks in large part to the Pitocin). Around midnight, I knew we were getting close. Baby had moved down very well, and we just needed to wait on the doc to come and examine me again before getting the go-ahead to start pushing.

Justin and my mom and I watched the Space Needle fireworks. Then Dr. Werner arrived. I was finally at 10 cm, and the baby's head was super low down. Time to push!

It must sound so strange, but pushing was my favorite part. Finally, it was time for me to do something. I had the nurses install a squat bar so I could put my feet up on the bar (I was on my back), and Justin, my mom, the doula, and a nurse stood beside the bed to make sure my legs didn't fall off to the side. I was fortunate to be able to feel the pressure of my contractions without needing to be told when to push, so I just went for it. Whenever they'd ask for one additional push, I did it. I wanted to meet my son!

One or two contractions into pushing, the doc asked me if I wanted to feel the baby's head. Beforehand, I'd thought that I might be grossed out, and I didn't think I'd want to. But when the moment came, I was thrilled. I felt his head right there, and I was literally overcome with tears of happiness.

I didn't push long — a little over half an hour. The women surrounding me were all saying things like "You're so close! Just a few more pushes!" but I didn't believe them because I assumed of course they'd say I was close. When I heard Justin say, "Whoa . . . Whoa. OH, WOW," I knew our son was soon to make his entrance. First, his head, and then about a second later the rest of him shot right out (I'm sure it always looks like this, but I was a little concerned by how quick the doc had to move to catch him — there's clearly a reason it's called "baby catching").

Because there was meconium in the amniotic fluid (meaning, Ash pooped in the womb), I wasn't able to hold him on my chest right away. Also, his breathing was really grunty and labored when he first came out (I was relieved to hear him cry, but immediately thought something didn't sound quite right), so I had to wait a what seemed like forever before I could have him in my arms. The NICU nurse said that they wanted to check him out next door to make sure he was breathing alright, and I said that was fine of course, but that if it wouldn't be risky, I'd love to hold him for just a few minutes before they took him.

So they placed Asher in my arms. And his breathing calmed. And they decided just to leave him with me (which I thought was pretty cool — there's so much about the mom-baby connection we're still figuring out).

Here's the very first time I held my son:



It was amazing — magic — euphoria. It was every bit the moment I'd looked forward to all my life — and then some. I'll write more about the days that have followed, but suffice to say, I never knew my heart could be so full of love —  for both of the men in my life.

New favorite blog . . . and a pain scale

If you haven't checked out a little blog called Hyperbole and a Half, you NEEEEED to. I particularly recommend The God of Cake and This Is Why I'll Never Be an Adult.

But another post caught my eye because of my current state of about-to-popness. I go to the doc once a week. We're meeting with the doula. We toured the hospital last week. And a lot of my thinking these days centers around one basic thought: I've grown the kid . . . now how the heck do we get him out?

Ow.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

And yet I'm attempting to do this thing naturally if at all possible (and by the way, I'm the one who gets to say whether or not it is at all possible). We'll do our best and see what happens.

One thing I know I DON'T want is some nurse asking me over and over again to rate my pain on a scale. It's labor. I'm pretty sure it hurts. I did plenty of pain ratings after my car accidents and it just makes me feel awkward. Choosing a number to describe my pain is an awful lot of pressure. If I say 3, I might as well not be at the docs. If I say 5, I'm indecisive. If I say 8 or 9, I'm a drama queen or a wimp. Besides, I'm a words person, not a math whiz.

Even the ones with faces are annoying.
Gross.
But this one, courtesy Hyperbole and a Half, I like. I've printed it out and may just use it at the hospital (we'll give it to the nurses along with our birth plan):

Yes. Now this is a pain scale I can get behind.

Seriously, check out the blog. I read it late at night when I can't sleep . . . and I keep on laughing so loud I'm afraid I'll wake up J. Fun stuff.

26 days

We are 26 days out (ish) from meeting our son.

How insane is that?

I keep having dreams that he's here. He's bundled up in my arms and I am in love in a completely new way.

Then I wake up with heartburn and hip pain and an inner debate about whether it's worth it to get up yet a 5th time to pee (it always is). So, with all the grace of an on-land walrus and no small amount of huffing and puffing, I perform an impressive 6 part series of movements designed to get myself out of bed. I then limp to the bathroom thinking mildly bitter thoughts.

Patience has never been my strong suit, especially when uncomfortable-ness is involved. But we'll get there!

My belly is this ever-shifting array of joints and kicks these days, much to my amusement (Justin's still grossed out) . . . though it often seems that little man is trying to kick his way out of my side.

Baby is doing great and barring a packed bag, we're pretty much ready for him to arrive. Well, after I finish launching the 3 websites I'm due to launch in the next 10 days before I go on leave. (Things are going well, but wow am I logging some epic hours in front of the screen!)

I just found out my doc will be out of town on vacation the week of my due date (so much for asking her if she'd be around during the holidays at my first appointment). I'm trying to convince baby to join us a little early, but we'll see.

Soon. Either way, soon! Can't wait.

Week 35

Greetings from an Autumn wonderland! Washington is in the midst of a freak snow + deep freeze that has people skating around our freeways and roads. Like so (enjoy the bus around minute 3):



The snow hit late in the day and then temps dropped, so people were completely unprepared for how bad the ice was (also, we never get storms like this before Thanksgiving). My brother's poor girlfriend was on the road 7 hours to drive 20 miles home. It was crazy. Weather folks said it was going to be a bad La Nina winter, and most of us were not really believing it because we've had a bunch of sunshine lately and whenever they say it'll be bad, it's not... I think we're rethinking our position. And getting snow tires.

I've been sick all week with a bad cold, so the storm gave me a bonus yesterday: hubby at home who doesn't mind making his pregnant, oh-so-whiny wife chicken noodle soup. :)

According to the little notifier on my phone (yes, there's an app for that), we are 36 days out from my due date (or, 36 days out from New Year's Eve, for those of you who really look forward to it).

Justin and I are getting pretty antsy, of course, and the little guy is reminding me often that he is almost out of room. The kid is all elbows and knees, which, if any of you know my 6'5" husband, is really no surprise. Justin and I were both 8 lbs 7 oz. when we were born, but he was 2 inches longer. Here's hoping for a long, skinny baby (with a Lawlis-size head and not the Rich giganto-cranium my brother and I both have).

The last few months have been a massive blur of work and baby preparation — time's been moving quick, but I've been exhausted. We had 4-hour long birth classes every Saturday morning for a month, 2 baby showers, the requisite doctor visits, and our 4th anniversary — all over the top of the busiest season my little business has ever had. I had that crazy eye-twitch thing happening for a while, but things are starting to quiet down a bit as I get closer to maternity leave, and I'm grateful.

I'm grateful, and I'm laughing at myself for thinking I would work all the way to my due date. I'm wondering how many other first-timers do that. It's amazing how ridiculously tired you get (no one warns you that the sleepless nights start LONG before baby arrives).

The thing is, I'm just ready to quiet things down and wrap my head around all this change that's coming to our little family, to me. I'm ready to organize neglected closets and drawers. Ready to finish the baby shopping. Ready to curl up close to Justin and enjoy the calm before the storm together.

I'm also ready to get this whole labor & delivery thing over with. I'm not real nervous (yet?) — just dreadfully curious as to how it all will go. I've prepared as best I can to do this thing without meds, but I've seen people who were far more hard-core than I am get the epidural, so I'm committed to doing the best I can and feeling good about the outcome... our son.
Here's a pic from our 4th anniversary — Justin took me and my huge belly out for a nice dinner in the city.

Mompetitors — a video series

This may be one of the most wonderful things I've ever seen.  There's a whole series of episodes for the non-mompetitor, a nice dose of sanity in a hyped-up-on-motherhood-weirdness world.

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