If you ever have children, maybe you will find some of these tips useful.
Things Amanda Has Learned So Far About Being a Parent #1: Things never go according to plan, but that's okay.
I didn't plan on wanting an epidural, but I wound up getting one. I thought I still had hours of labor to go, but in reality, the worst part was over. If I had just waited another hour, you would have been here. But even though it wasn't the plan, I don't regret the decision. I had 10 hours to get all the crazy baby pain endorphins, but then I got to enjoy the part where I pushed you out.
I didn't plan on using any disposable diapers at all until you went to daycare, but right now, life is just too hectic to introduce another responsibility (lots of diaper laundry). So we're going to hold off until your cord falls off, you get a little bigger (they are a little big for you right now anyway), and until we get a little better hang of this parenting thing. I am ok with this situation.
I didn't plan on feeling so overwhelmed... but from what I have heard and read, it's totally normal, and most new parents feel this way. So I am trying to enjoy it as much as possible because you won't be this tiny forever. I hear you people grow really quickly, and I will miss these days when you are so sweet and innocent and dependent on us.
Things Amanda Has Learned So Far About Being a Parent #2: Everything happens in its own time.
If I had realized how close we were to your birth, I would have skipped the epidural. But, honestly, nobody knows if you're going to be in labor for another hour or another 30 hours. Things happen when they are supposed to. Sure, you can try to make plans for specific events occurring at specific times. You probably will. Just be aware that that voice you hear? It's God laughing at you.
The same could be said for your conception. I honestly believed it would take forever to get pregnant, but you and God had other plans. I thought, "we've got forever to buy a house, go to school, get our act together." It turns out, we didn't. And to be truthful, even if it had taken forever, my plan probably still wouldn't have worked out. Things have a way of getting complicated, baby or no baby. I know I will continue to try to make timelines for my life, but it's oddly liberating to realize that my plans are as tenuous as spiderwebs.
Sometimes, feeling powerless is empowering.
Let me conclude this letter by telling you how absolutely perfect you are. I may be tired and stressed and worried and a little crazy right now, but it's all worth it to have such an awesome little person in our lives. Your father is crazy about you. One day, you'll see a million pictures of him snuggling with you and kissing and holding you. It's amazing. Seeing how Chris is with you makes me love him even more, in a totally different way than before. He is a fantastic father, and he's so supportive of me, as I struggle to get the hang of things. (No matter how involved a father is, it's just different being the mother, especially if you're breastfeeding. There is a whole set of challenges that the father can't help with. Also, since he doesn't get 6 weeks of paid leave, I'm at home by myself a lot of the time now, so ... well, it's just different.)
Things Amanda Has Learned So Far About Being a Parent #3: Celebrate small victories.
Ok, so you're not getting any sleep. But your baby finally latched on correctly to feed!
Ok, so you haven't found time to do any housework in two weeks. But your put on real clothes today!
It's important to focus on the things that went right, from one day to the next.
That's all the advice I have for now, but I'll let you know when I figure out anything else. I love you very much, and I can't wait to see what cool new things you show us about yourself.
Love,
Mom
8 days out of the oven
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Dear Alex,
today is your one-week birthday! Congratulations!
I didn't get you a present, so instead, I will tell you about how you were born.
I was almost 2 weeks past your original due date, so the doctors/midwives decided to induce labor on January 23rd. On Friday, January 20, I saw the midwife at my OB-GYN, and she stripped my membranes to try to kick things into gear. That set off a series of pretty mild contractions that lasted all weekend. Your Dad and I ate Indian food on Saturday night, and I had to keep stopping eating so I could concentrate on just enduring the contraction. They felt like really bad cramps.
On Sunday afternoon, we went to the hospital to start induction. The plan was to give me a gel to get my cervix ready on Sunday night, and then they'd start pitocin to induce labor on Monday morning. But the gel started me having really painful contractions. The monitors at the hospital didn't show that they were as painful as they were. They just looked like "mild uterine irritability." So nobody really acknowledged that I was in labor. I was, though. That lasted about 10 hours. When, finally, a nurse came in and asked how I was, I said, "not good." They checked, and I was dilated 7 centimeters. Your Dad went outside to start making calls, and it was time to push. I hadn't planned on getting an epidural, but I wound up doing it because the contractions were so painful, and I didn't realize that the worst was over. Less than an hour after I got the shot, you were born!
Your Dad held my left leg, a nurse held my right leg, and a wonderful midwife named JoAnn Fluent-Peistrup helped you get out of me. Your Daddy cut your umbilical cord. The whole thing is still surreal to me, but I do remember how surprised I was when JoAnn put you on my chest. You popped out, and she put you right up on me and dried you off while you were lying on my skin. I looked up at your Daddy, and he was crying. I thought I would cry, but giving birth gives your body a natural high, and I was just feeling wonderful and amazed. After all that time inside of me, it was hard to believe that you were really going to come out and meet us. It felt like a dream.
We stayed in the hospital for two more nights. You had lots of visitors. You met your Grandma Garrett (Obaachan) and your Grandpa Tiny. Then, you met your Aunt Denise and Uncle Rhett first. They were our first non-family visitors in the hospital. Then you met your Uncle Dave and Aunt Pamm and your Aunt Colette and Uncle Chuck. When we got home, you met your Granny and Grandpa Johnson. Everybody agrees that you are totally perfect and handsome.
Here's what we are learning about you:
You like the sounds of the dryer and running water.
You don't like having your hands wrapped up.
You still get the hiccups a lot.
You like being sung to. (I started you out with "Walk on the Ocean" and "Baby Got Back" because they were the first ones I could think of in the hospital).
You don't enjoy diaper changes or clothes changes.
You seem ok with being read to. Your first story was "I'll love you forever."
I'll be honest -- Your first few days at home have been kind of rough. Parenting is so much harder than I realized. I have my good moments, but I also have a lot of moments of just totally losing it and breaking down in tears. It's hard to know what to do sometimes, but we're working our way through it together. I guess feeding has been the biggest challenge. Everyone tells you how beautiful and natural breastfeeding is (it is), but nobody really tells you quite how HARD it is at first. The first few days were really hard. When your milk isn't in yet, it really feels like you're starving your baby. But we have made a lot of progress. Today, I fed you in a chair I'd never fed you in before, which was a major accomplishment. It's nice not to feel chained to the same two spots in the house. I am actually feeding you right now in front of the computer, and I'm ecstatic that it's working. I still wonder if you're getting enough, but you pee and poop like a champ, so I guess you must be.
A lot of things about the future are scary for me. Will I ever get a full night's sleep? Will I ever be able to go back to school? Will your Dad get to fulfill his dream of having his own restaurant? How will I ever leave you at daycare and go back to work? Will I be able to pump enough milk for you? But right now, I am trying to take things one day at a time. Today, our goal is to make sure you are fed, changed, and loved. So far, so good.
You like to suck on things.
I didn't get you a present, so instead, I will tell you about how you were born.
I was almost 2 weeks past your original due date, so the doctors/midwives decided to induce labor on January 23rd. On Friday, January 20, I saw the midwife at my OB-GYN, and she stripped my membranes to try to kick things into gear. That set off a series of pretty mild contractions that lasted all weekend. Your Dad and I ate Indian food on Saturday night, and I had to keep stopping eating so I could concentrate on just enduring the contraction. They felt like really bad cramps.
On Sunday afternoon, we went to the hospital to start induction. The plan was to give me a gel to get my cervix ready on Sunday night, and then they'd start pitocin to induce labor on Monday morning. But the gel started me having really painful contractions. The monitors at the hospital didn't show that they were as painful as they were. They just looked like "mild uterine irritability." So nobody really acknowledged that I was in labor. I was, though. That lasted about 10 hours. When, finally, a nurse came in and asked how I was, I said, "not good." They checked, and I was dilated 7 centimeters. Your Dad went outside to start making calls, and it was time to push. I hadn't planned on getting an epidural, but I wound up doing it because the contractions were so painful, and I didn't realize that the worst was over. Less than an hour after I got the shot, you were born!
Your Dad held my left leg, a nurse held my right leg, and a wonderful midwife named JoAnn Fluent-Peistrup helped you get out of me. Your Daddy cut your umbilical cord. The whole thing is still surreal to me, but I do remember how surprised I was when JoAnn put you on my chest. You popped out, and she put you right up on me and dried you off while you were lying on my skin. I looked up at your Daddy, and he was crying. I thought I would cry, but giving birth gives your body a natural high, and I was just feeling wonderful and amazed. After all that time inside of me, it was hard to believe that you were really going to come out and meet us. It felt like a dream.
We stayed in the hospital for two more nights. You had lots of visitors. You met your Grandma Garrett (Obaachan) and your Grandpa Tiny. Then, you met your Aunt Denise and Uncle Rhett first. They were our first non-family visitors in the hospital. Then you met your Uncle Dave and Aunt Pamm and your Aunt Colette and Uncle Chuck. When we got home, you met your Granny and Grandpa Johnson. Everybody agrees that you are totally perfect and handsome.
Here's what we are learning about you:
You like the sounds of the dryer and running water.
You don't like having your hands wrapped up.
You still get the hiccups a lot.
You like being sung to. (I started you out with "Walk on the Ocean" and "Baby Got Back" because they were the first ones I could think of in the hospital).
You don't enjoy diaper changes or clothes changes.
You seem ok with being read to. Your first story was "I'll love you forever."
I'll be honest -- Your first few days at home have been kind of rough. Parenting is so much harder than I realized. I have my good moments, but I also have a lot of moments of just totally losing it and breaking down in tears. It's hard to know what to do sometimes, but we're working our way through it together. I guess feeding has been the biggest challenge. Everyone tells you how beautiful and natural breastfeeding is (it is), but nobody really tells you quite how HARD it is at first. The first few days were really hard. When your milk isn't in yet, it really feels like you're starving your baby. But we have made a lot of progress. Today, I fed you in a chair I'd never fed you in before, which was a major accomplishment. It's nice not to feel chained to the same two spots in the house. I am actually feeding you right now in front of the computer, and I'm ecstatic that it's working. I still wonder if you're getting enough, but you pee and poop like a champ, so I guess you must be.
A lot of things about the future are scary for me. Will I ever get a full night's sleep? Will I ever be able to go back to school? Will your Dad get to fulfill his dream of having his own restaurant? How will I ever leave you at daycare and go back to work? Will I be able to pump enough milk for you? But right now, I am trying to take things one day at a time. Today, our goal is to make sure you are fed, changed, and loved. So far, so good.
You like to suck on things.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Dear Toot,
you are perfect. Don't let it go to your head. After I get some sleep, I will tell you the story of the day you were born, but for now, just know that your Daddy and I love you very much, and we could not be happier to be your parents.
Love,
Mom
13 hours, 20 minutes out of the oven
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Friday, January 20, 2012
Dear Toot,
You have gotten a reprieve until Sunday evening/Monday morning. But if you aren't here by then, we are kicking you out.
I have to tell you the truth - I was pretty freakin' upset to find out that I may need to be induced. The person who talked to me on Tuesday left me a little confused and a lot frustrated and a whole lot scared. But today, we got to see the other midwife at the office, and she made me feel a LOT better. She explained everything and empathized and reassured me, and I am now mostly ok with whatever happens. (On a side note, she also stripped my membranes today, to see if we can kick things into gear. Be very, very happy that no one will ever do that to you because it is just awful.)
I guess I got so anxious about the birth process that I forgot what it's all about. You! Whatever happens - whatever goes wrong or doesn't go according to plan - we will still get to see you and your fat, squishy little face soon. I can't wait for that.
That said, though, I just wanted to share a little list with you:
THINGS FOR WHICH YOU ARE GROUNDED WHEN YOU COME OUT
1. Making me vomit in public
2. Almost 10 months of heartburn
3. I sneezed, and it made me pee on myself
4. Excessive tardiness
5. That week of lower back agony
6. Making pickles stop tasting as good
7. 30 years old is either way too young or way too old to pee in the bed
8. Back pimples
9. Constipation
10. Making me cry during such non-tear-worthy TV broadcasts as a baseball game and an episode of "Overhaulin'"
So, no parties and no allowance for several months after you show up. Sorry, buddy. You brought this upon yourself.
If you're curious, here is one more list for you:
THINGS I WILL DO WHEN I AM NOT PREGNANT ANYMORE
1. Glass of the Moët in the fridge
2. Rare fillet
3. Runny eggs
4. Raw sushi
5. Sleep on my back
6. Guinness
7. Change the cat litter (not excited, but it's probably my turn by now)
8. Start running again (once I get the ok)
9. Ungodly hot bath (again, once I get the ok)
10. Pinch, poke, cuddle, tickle, and generally play with chubby baby
I can't wait to meet you. It's coming soon!
Love,
Mom
41 weeks, 4 days in the oven
P.S. you are the size of a pumpkin. I am officially terrified.
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Thursday, January 19, 2012
Dear Toot,
Well, it will probably come as no surprise to you to learn that I am still pregnant with you. The doctors want to induce on Friday (tomorrow), if you haven't shown up yet.
That's looking increasingly likely. I won't deny that I am a little disappointed. I really wanted to let nature take its course, but we are creeping up on 42 weeks, and most doctors don't recommend going beyond that. So, I am trying to accept that my plans will have to change. Either way, we'll get to meet you soon, and that's the important part. But, y'know, if you wanted to surprise us and come on out, I wouldn't mind. =D
Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.2
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Dear Toot,
I guess you already know this, but you haven't come out yet. Your due date was yesterday. You are the size of a small pumpkin. I think that's an appropriate size for making your exit/entrance, don't you?
I have enjoyed carrying you around for these past 9ish months, but pregnancy has lost a little of the shiny lately. I have started my leave from work, so I'm pretty bored right now. I have cleaned everything possible, so I don't have a lot else to do. Also, it's gotten pretty uncomfortable to be in any position, even if that position is lying down.
Oh, and here's a nice gem - I was hoping you'd come out before I had a chance to share this one. It goes under the heading of "Things for Which You Are Grounded As Soon As You Come Out." The other night, I was lying in bed, and I got really excited because I thought my water had broken. Turns out, I just peed on myself. Now, Toot, you reach a certain age at which you say to yourself, "barring any unfortunate illness, I have probably wet the bed for the last time for the next 60 or 70 years." It is really upsetting to be proven wrong, then have to wash your sheets in the middle of the night.
I am being bombarded by phone calls and messages asking if you are here yet. I want to tell them yes, little buddy. I really want to see you in person. We are all ready. I have tried lots of suggestions for getting labor started, but nothing has worked yet. I will keep you updated.
Love,
Mom
40 weeks, 2 days in the oven
Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.2
Friday, January 6, 2012
Dear Toot,
I haven't written in quite some time. I am very sorry. I don't know what to say to excuse myself except that Christmas and New Year's are very busy times. Today, you are the size of a mini watermelon.
Right now, we are all just sort of waiting around for you to show up. As far as I can tell, everything is ready for you. Your room isn't perfect, but you won't be sleeping in there for a while anyway. So, any time you want to show up, we are ready!
I have been off work for a couple of weeks, just to relax and prepare, but my leave officially starts Monday. I have to go back to work 6 weeks after that, so please do start thinking about showing up. The hospital bag is all packed and ready to go.
I am half impatient for you to get here and half terrified of things starting. Please don't wait on account of my mild terror. I will get over it as soon as you start to come. Your Dad really wants to meet you (so do I)! We hope to see you soon.
Love,
Mom
39 weeks, 4 days in the oven
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