White Noise

Recently I discovered that I have a helper to soothe and entertain the baby for a few minutes while I run to the bathroom, grab a bite to eat, etc. His name is Dyson. He's a vacuum! (He's a great vacuum too by the way!)

I had heard that babies love white noise because it reminds them of being in the womb and makes them feel safe. When I vacuumed with Michelle in my arms, she fell asleep pretty quickly. Unfortunately she would wake up as soon as I put her down and turned the vacuum off. It took me a while before I got the idea to leave the vacuum running for a few minutes after I lay her down so that she's asleep or at least content for a bit anyway with the white noise. It worked! Even when she woke up, the sound of the vacuum was enough to pacify her so she didn't scream. Sometimes I have to go to the washroom urgently and there's no one to hand her off to so Dyson has stepped in as a temporary babysitter! (Sometimes I had to go to the toilet so badly but was holding it in because of the baby and causing damage in my colon/rectum -- wrecked him? Darn near killed him! My doctor said it's better to let the baby cry while I go for a poop than to end up in the hospital getting colo-rectal surgery! Who would watch baby then? I've had some constipation and bleeding because of holding it in too long. And this is WAY TOO MUCH INFO! Sorry. But it just goes to show you the lengths I go to for the baby! Stupid I know! The doctor says it's OK to let her cry for a few minutes. The world won't end. It won't hurt her. I just feel so guilty. I have to stop that. I try to take care of the baby as best I can but I have to remember sometimes to take care of me because if something happens to me I'll be no use to the baby anyway!)

It takes me hours to settle her down with my dancing, rocking and lullabies. Dyson only seems to take a few minutes to calm her. I'm not sure if it's because she likes the sound or because it's so loud she can't compete with it but it stops her from crying most times. At least the house is clean with all this vacuuming! I hope it doesn't hurt the vacuum using it so much. They need to make a CD of vacuum noises! While they're at it they can invent a machine that simulates the motion of a car. She likes her swing as well but doesn't stay quiet in it too long. Nothing beats the car for a nice long nap but with gas prices these days you don't want to go driving around too far. And the red lights are a killer!

Even the car isn't always a safe bet though. If she poops while you're enroute somewhere, you're in trouble. We were barely driving 10 minutes when all of sudden she started wailing. At least I wasn't on the highway yet so I pulled into a gas station and parked to change her diaper (which is VERY awkward in a car, I would quickly discover). At least she settled down after that, thank heaven. Speaking from experience (a nightmarish excursion recently) a long drive with a screaming baby is NOT pretty. At one point I had to just stick balls of Kleenex in my ears because my headache was so bad her screams were like knives plunging into my eyebrows. Being in an enclosed space for any length of time with a shrieking infant is perhaps the most stressful experience one can have. I would suggest it as an instrument of torture if they ever bring back that sort of thing (as opposed to the rack, water torture etc.) She likes the motion of the car but when it stops (at every red light, construction site etc) she starts to cry. She likes the sound of crinkling foil (more white noise) so my Mom gave me a piece for in the car to scrunch at each red light. It stops her crying for a couple of seconds anyway. Other popular noises include the bathroom or kitchen fan, running water (especially the bath -- I once ran a bath just to soothe her. I actually got to get in the bath but not until hours later. The water wasn't that warm anymore but I still enjoyed it.) You do what you can. She also loves music but especially loves to be danced around to it. There is no substitute for being carried around. I like to make her happy but it is really hard on my wrists, arms, neck and back after several hours/days of it!

Had a nice visit with my Mom and sister and they gave my arms a break by holding/carrying Michelle around for a while. She fell asleep in Mom's arms a few times. Mom said that she walked the floor with me all day when I was a baby. I didn't like to be put down for a second. I didn't sleep at night either. So I guess I should be thankful that at least Michelle does sleep at night. (Eventually! Even though sometimes it takes quite a while and quite a few lullabies to settle her down.)

People ask if she's settled into a routine. Not really. Each day is different. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to why she's more or less cooperative on any given day. It's sort of luck of the draw. Though she has her moments (good and bad) on any given day. In general she seems to feed every 2 hours during the daylight and every 3 hours (sometimes 4 when I'm lucky) through the night. At least she sleeps at night. Through the day her naps are pretty erratic (ranging from one minute to one hour) and sometimes non-existent. I've told her that babies are supposed to need a lot of sleep but she doesn't seem to agree. She's a very light sleeper --so sensitive to every little sensation that she awakens and cries if there is a slight noise other than white noise, if she hiccups, if she has a speck of wet or dirty in her diaper, ANYTHING!

Sometimes you get lucky. Michelle actually let me go shopping at the kid's store the other day! She had fallen asleep in the carseat and stayed asleep initially in the stroller. Then she woke up but remained quiet, wide-eyed and curious about all the colourful clothes in the store. I was so pleased! I got her a few clothes for the Fall. Surprisingly one of the sweaters I got, sized 6 months, barely fit her once I tried it on her at home! The sleeve barely went over her little fist. There seems to be a big difference in how manufacturers size baby clothes. So it's hard to know. Some six month outfits are huge, others are tiny. She's growing like a weed so it's hard to know what to do. I had a lot of cute summer outfits in 12 month size thinking she'd be a year old next summer so it made sense but at the rate she's going she may be fitting 12 month clothes at 6 months in the middle of winter! I also picked up some colourful bows on sale. Yes I know she doesn't have a lot of hair but I still think it's cute on her!

Mom says it will get a little easier at least when she becomes interested in toys and there are more things to amuse her. I can't wait to be able to play with her. I've tried showing her toys but she doesn't get it at this stage. I'm her only toy! And like the energizer bunny I have to keep going and going and going!

I try putting her on her ocean-themed play gym but she doesn't have much interest yet. Though she does occasionally swat the dangling toys with rattles and rings, it's most likely by accident as she's constantly got her little fists and feet going. She was very active even before she was born, constantly punching and kicking me from the inside. Now she does it from the outside. She's rarely ever still. I remember even when I was at my doctor's appointments and at the ultrasounds she was kicking every time. And when I try to change her diaper, she scrunches her legs up making it nearly impossible to get the diaper off. That's probably the sort of move she was pulling when I had my 19 week ultrasound so we couldn't tell whether she was a girl. I was so thrilled when I finally knew for sure. I wanted a little girl so badly, even though I knew girls were higher maintenance (in her case, VERY high maintenance!)

Every time I see her smile I'm just overwhelmed by her sweetness, her innocence. I have to be careful because with my hormones surging sometimes I'm so sentimental, I love her so much that I almost start to cry. One time I did tear up and said "I love you so much." Seeing the tears in my eyes made her tear up and her lip quiver. I don't want to upset her so I have to be strong during those moments. She wouldn't understand yet about tears of joy. Her tears are always because she wants something -- she's hungry, she needs changing or, as seems to be the case most often, she's overtired and cranky and wants to be lulled to sleep. If it's anything else, I wouldn't know and it must be frustrating for her not to be able to say. I can't wait until she can talk and tell me what she wants without me having to guess. Although I know that will bring its own challenges! Something tells me she'll be rather demanding, and none too pleased if/when her demands aren't met. I'll do my best to make her happy without spoiling her too much. I wanted a little princess but I don't want to create a monster.

There are so many milestones coming up -- being able to hold her head up, to sit up, to laugh, to talk, to play, to stand and walk. It's amazing to me. Absolutely mind-boggling how much a little human being learns in the first year. She may not remember these early months, not consciously anyway. She won't remember the countless hours I spent feeding her, carrying her, singing to her, dancing with her but on some level I'm hoping that it helps her to feel safe, to feel loved and helps her to develop into a happy, healthy little girl. I know that the early years are crucial in our development, that they set the stage for the rest of our lives, shaping the people that we become. I want to do the best for her. And I'll do whatever it takes. Sometimes I may just have to lighten up and not worry so much!

Timing is everything!

Survived a trip to the mall with the baby!  It was a miracle. I was so relieved. After a few nightmarish shopping excursions where she screamed bloody murder the entire time, I was understandably nervous about the prospect of going through the mall with her. I couldn't avoid it forever. I needed to return something and I also wanted to pick up "What to Expect - The First Year" at Chapters. (I had read "What to Expect When You're Expecting" while I was pregnant and although a lot of it stressed me out, it was good to have a guide that was so thorough it covered everything that could possibly happen at each stage so that I was prepared. I figured I might as well have something to guide me through babydom. Babies don't come with a manual but they really should!) Michelle was starting to fuss as I put her in the car but she fell asleep during the ride and when I put the seat into the stroller and started to move, she was good to go. Thankfully she stayed asleep the entire time. I was crossing my fingers as I headed through the mall repeating a mantra in my head "Please be good. Please stay asleep!" Of course, on this occasion the timing had been just right. She had been fed so she wasn't hungry and just as I had put her in her carseat about to leave the house I could hear gurgling down below so I took her out and changed her. It had been a really big orange poop. It was a nuisance having to take her out of the seat and start from scratch again but it was a huge blessing that the big poo happened while we were still home. I'd seen how she reacted to pooing when we were out and it got really ugly. She screamed until she was purple and the poo seemed to implode under the carseat harness. So if I can time my outings for after the baby is fed, warm and dry and clean, she can sleep happily while we're out. Unfortunately it's not always so easy to time things. I never know exactly when she's going to poo. Every day is a little different. You can never be sure. Sometimes it sounds like she's going but it's just gas. I am noticing patterns though. She does tend to have her biggest poops early in the day. But she feeds and poos almost non-stop all day long except for a few minutes here and there when she sleeps. My friend convinced me to start using the diaper cake (it was so pretty I was trying to save it but she said I better use the newborn diapers while they still fit. They are pretty snug now. She's basically a size 1 diaper already. She's in 0-3 month clothes and even fits some 3 month old ones) and I've gone through the first two layers in under a week!

I have taken her out for walks in the stroller a few times now. She seems to like it. It's good for me to get out too. Being cooped up all the time can make you a little stir crazy. It feels good to get some exercise and fresh air. When I check on her in the little window built into the stroller she's usually wide awake. She seems fascinated by the experience. I'm not sure whether it's the bumpiness or the play of light and shadow that she likes the most. They have baby swings but they almost need to invent a baby bumpy ride that simulates a stroller, or a car. I've heard they like the dryer too. Apparently she loves the sound of the vacuum cleaner as well. I had her in my left arm while I vacuumed with the right today and she fell asleep. Housework is a real workout now that I have her! She often doesn't nap long enough for me to do things without her. So I just have to try to "octopus" it and do everything with her in my arms. At least when she's able to hold her head up I can start putting her in the "Snugli" carrier and carry her like a kangaroo while I hop around to do everything.

I've started reading "What to Expect" and I was happy to learn that the reason babies sleep better on formula (while I was supplementing her with formula in those early days, as instructed by the breastfeeding clinic Michelle did seem to sleep a bit more. Sometimes for three or four hours at a time) is that they can't digest cow's milk that easily so it stays in their system longer and makes them feel full. Breastmilk is so easy to digest that it goes right through them so they are hungry more often (which explains the frequent feedings and the endless stream of pooed diapers -- about 5 a day. Not to mention the peed ones too.) I like to have a book where I can find the facts instead of relying on confusing and contradictory advice from well-meaning friends and family. For a while there I was starting to get discouraged. It felt like everyone was a critic and telling me what I was doing wrong. "My baby didn't poo that much...Maybe you're overfeeding her." "Maybe she's lactose intolerant." "Maybe she's malnourished because you're not eating enough protein. You should be frying steaks." "My baby slept all the time as a newborn." It was getting to the point where I didn't want to talk to anyone because they were making me feel worse! I was already feeling pretty vulnerable from over-exhaustion. I know that they were only trying to help but it felt like they were finding fault which wasn't what I needed when I was already feeling depleted and discouraged and trying to do all the right things. I was starting to get defensive. I eat plenty of fruits and vegetables, drink a lot of milk and have some meat but the baby limits what and how much I can eat. She doesn't always give me time to cook anything. I have to grab things that I can gobble in a couple of minutes. I'm on my own. I don't have a partner that can cook or watch the baby while I cook. Sometimes I'm starving, I think Michelle is finally asleep so I run to nuke a frozen dinner and she starts to scream before I even get to take the first bite. So I try to cradle her in one arm and eat with the other. But if she continues to cry, I end up leaving my meal to change/feed her. Breastfeeding takes so much out of me physically and it's not always easy to feed myself so I wind up weak and exhausted. But I don't need people telling me that I'm a bad mother for not eating when I'm trying to be a good mother by putting the baby's needs before my own. When she screamed in the grocery store one time as I threw things in the cart I was saying "Mama needs to eat too baby or Mama will die!" I didn't even care about the people around me staring. Welcome to my Breakdown people! I hope I never have a shopping trip like that again. It almost seems like any time I try to get food for myself (either buying it, cooking it or eating it) my baby will start to cry as though she just can't let me eat! She's the best diet on Earth! Sucks 500 calories or more out of me and doesn't even let me take that much in!

Mom is a worrier and always has something negative to say about something. I don't even watch the news because it just brings me down but I always get to hear about things from Mom. (Though I often wonder if she's getting the story right!) My mother can't resist calling to tell me the latest thing she heard/read on the news. She called frantically that the "Bumbo" chairs had been recalled. They've been around forever. I'm sure they're fine. I guess some people were putting them on tables or something. That's just silly. I would wait until she's old enough first of all. I would certainly keep an eye on the baby if she was in the chair and I wouldn't put it up on anything. Mom also called one day to say that "Eggs are as bad for you as cigarettes." Apparently some report she'd heard on TV. That's ridiculous. I thought that eggs were a healthy source of protein. I know they have cholesterol but come on. One day something is good for you and the next day it's bad. Mom shouldn't be allowed to watch the news. It's all doom and gloom and fear mongering. The worst thing possible for a chronic worrier like my Mom. I try to limit my worries. These days I just don't have time anyway. My biggest concern is the baby crying. Everything else in the world will have to wait!

People like to tell you how things should be. People without kids will tell you what they think or heard from other people or read. People with kids will tell you what their kids were like or what they did in their day (which may have been several decades ago and may have been dead wrong -- for instance they used to say not to feed more often than every four hours and put your baby to sleep on her stomach. That's the opposite of what they say now.) Even people who have had babies recently may not necessarily understand what you're going through. The problem is that each baby is different. Just as no two labours are alike (I heard so many vastly different stories and my own wound up being nothing like any of them. You really don't know what your own experience will be until you have it.) no two babies are alike. Some people have babies that never cry and sleep through the night right from the beginning. Others have fussy babies that cry a lot and rarely sleep. I had some people tell me I have to feed every few hours and that I should wake the baby to feed if she doesn't get up on her own. Others told me never wake a sleeping baby. It's hard to know what to believe. I just let Michelle call the shots. I figure she knows better than anyone when she's hungry. When she cries, I do the checks. If her diaper is dirty (and 9 times out of 10, it is!) I change her. Then if she still cries, I assume she's hungry and try feeding her. She usually nurses voraciously so she was obviously hungry. When all her other needs have been met, if she still cries I assume she's tired and needs to nap so I entertain her by carrying her, singing to her, rocking her, putting her in her swing, going for a walk or a drive, or sometimes just letting her lay on my chest for two hours (she was quite content while I watched my show, even though my chest was hurting I didn't want to disturb her. Sometimes she cries as soon as I put her down so I just let her lean on me as long as she's happy.) She is demanding. Sometimes it's exhausting meeting her demands, but I do it. It makes me happy when I'm able to stop her tears. What gets frustrating is when she'll cry after all of my efforts and I don't know what's wrong. I'll ask her "What's wrong?!" (As if she's suddenly going to be able to speak and tell me!) When all else fails, I've found that making a strange noise, especially a loud shushing sound seems to quiet her. It probably just distracts her so she forgets that she was crying. I've tried playing with her, introducing toys to her but it's probably too soon. I'm not even sure how much they can see at this point.

My Mom and sister came over for a visit and Michelle was thankfully pretty good, though she is high maintenance. When she's not being fed and changed she likes to be constantly entertained. You can't dare to put her down for a moment or she'll cry. It was a treat to have my Mom hold her and walk around with her for a bit to give me a break while I grabbed a bite to eat. Mom said that the baby looks like me and seems to have my temperament (God help me!) I was a real handfull and now I suppose I'm getting my payback for what I put my mother through. Sorry Mom. I had no idea! Thank you for everything that you endured to have me and raise me. I may not have fully appreciated it until now. You always said "You'll never understand until you have kids of your own!" I never expected to have my own children. Now here I am with a baby (biggest surprise of my life!) and I finally understand what it's like -- how much love, how much stress, how much sacrifice and work children really are.

I was hoping she'd take after me and not her father (who as most of you know has been M.I.A. since February. Good riddance.) Then again he was even more high maintenance than I was. M was as needy as a baby, never gave me a moment's peace or privacy, not even to go to the bathroom (don't ask!), was a voracious eater, would barely let me eat anything (sometimes literally took the food out of my hand)...Oh dear, come to think of it maybe she did get a couple of things from Dad. Sometimes she seems to be giving the finger too (see photo!) It was something my ex did often, especially for pictures. Yeah, he was a charmer! I'm sure it's just coincidence with Michelle though. My Mom said Michelle's hair seems to be a little more blonde than strawberry now. I was born platinum blonde and turned auburn later. Could she be doing the reverse? I guess we'll have to wait and see. Her eyes are denim blue at this point but I've heard that they can change as well. Of course both M and I had blue eyes so there's a good chance they'll stay.

Mom carried the baby around, singing to her, bouncing her, keeping her amused until her arms were aching. She said I was the same way as a baby. I wanted constant attention. I wouldn't let her put me down all day long. I also screamed all night and wouldn't sleep. At least thank Heaven, Michelle doesn't do that. She's actually started sleeping pretty well at night at least (a few hours anyway). Knock on wood.

I couldn't resist trying her little shades on her. I'd gotten them several months ago and thought they were adorable. They seemed so small but look big on her. She looks like she could be a baby Elton John! We didn't really get to hit the beach this year but there's always next year. Maybe by then I'll be bikini ready though even if I manage to lose my mommy tummy I don't know if the stretch marks will fade. I'm hoping. I'm still using the stretch mark cream that I got months ago. It doesn't seem to do much aside from smell like cookies. There's cocoa in it or something. Can they invent something that makes stretch marks vanish? Please? Although my appearance is not as important to me these days I look back at photos of me from last summer and want to cry. I worked so hard to get to my goal weight/shape having no idea that I was going to fall in love and shockingly wind up pregnant in the Fall. Still, Michelle is worth the stretch marks (and the stress and sleeplessness). I just hope she appreciates it. Someday if she's giving me a hard time (in her teens for example) I may break out some of those old bikini photos and then show her my stretched out belly. The Mom guilt! My mother certainly used it on me. I guess I'll probably resort to it someday with my daughter.

Time isn't always on my side these days. It seems it rarely is. The baby will fall asleep and I'll rush to get something done only to have her wake at the worst possible moment. One day I had just finished bathing her because she'd had a really messy poo. I had her upstairs, in her towel, about to put on her lotion when she pooed on the towel! I wasn't about to bathe her all over again. Luckily it didn't go too far. A couple of times she's peed while I'm changing her and wet the clean outfit and blanket I had just put on her. At least being a girl she doesn't spray up when she pees (I've heard some nightmare stories about changing baby boys!) Or she'll wake up and start screaming in a crowded grocery store. Or she'll poo through her cutest little dresses. But sometimes I get lucky, the stars align, baby is good, all goes well and it's such a treat. I wish every day could be like that. Baby Michelle would sleep soundly and I'd get everything done. She'd wake up refreshed and happy and never cry. But she's a baby. She's like the weather. Unpredictable. Uncontrollable. You never know what you're going to get. (Though while I'm on the subject I am so grateful for the beautiful weather we've had in August. I was worried it would be too humid when I got back home with no A/C but it's been perfect.)

For a recovering control freak like me it can be hard to surrender control to a small human. You can't reason with her. She wants what she wants when she wants it and you better figure it out because she doesn't speak English yet! Stupidly I always ask her anyway "What is it love? What's wrong? Are you hungry? Do you need to be changed? What is it?" I thought she would have different cries for different things but so far it's the same plaintive "Waaaaa" whether she's hungry, or dirty, or tired, or just needs to be cuddled. So you try each one and figure it out by the process of elimination. It does feel good when you get it right and she stops crying. It's beyond frustrating when you get it wrong and you can't figure out what she's on about. "But you're clean, you're full, you have no complaint! Everything is good! I don't get it!" Those are the "I'm just bored, entertain me" cries. That's when the vacuum cleaner, the stroller, the car, white noise, motion etc come in handy.

One night she kept falling asleep while nursing but each time I tried to put her down she'd wake up minutes later and scream. My favourite show was coming on and I didn't want to miss it. She fell asleep on my chest and seemed quite content. I let her sleep there. It was easier than disturbing her and having her scream. So I let her stay that way through the entire show. My chest was aching and my arm was numb by the end of it but at least she stayed quiet and content.

It must be scary for a baby. They were safe in their little watery world and then suddenly they're yanked out into this strange place (yanked out with a plunger and tongs as well as doctor's hands in my case. It was a rough labour for both of us!) They don't know where they are or what's going on. They don't know if their needs will be met. When they awaken alone, it must be frightening. They were attached to you for so long, they need to feel that connection. Lying on my chest she hears my heartbeat. She knows I'm her Mama and that she's safe. If she's alone to sleep then she doesn't know where I am. I hope that she will realize I always come back to her, that she can feel secure no matter what. I will always be there to meet her needs. I'm never far away. I know that my sister's kids are still so connected to her and don't like to be apart from her (even at 2 years and 10 years.) You see the panic in his face when my nephew realizes Mama isn't there, even for a few moments. It's overwhelming, but at the same time it's an incredible feeling to know that you're so loved, so needed. You are your child's world.

I am Michelle's world. And I will try to make it as happy as I can. I just hope she cuts me a little slack because I am new to this and I am on my own trying to do everything. There's no one else to put out the garbage, do the shopping and everything else. She has definitely challenged me in a way that no one and nothing ever has. Maybe it was what I needed to make me stronger. We've both been through a lot in the first few weeks. We've survived and we're doing pretty well. Maybe the hardest part is behind us and it'll be easier from here on out. Sure. As a stranger told me in line at the drug store (during another one of Michelle's screaming fits) "Yes this is the hardest stage. At least until she hits her teens..." But that's way way off...

Pushed to the limit -- NINE POUNDS FOUR OUNCES!

I was afraid that baby going late meant that she would be a little bigger...Apparently my fears were well-founded. How on earth I managed to pass a nine pound baby out I don't know! I can tell you it wasn't easy! She tore me apart (literally. I refuse to look at the stitches from my episiotomy. I don't want to know. I just know it's a world of hurt down there!) Anyway, I've been wanting to write about my labour/delivery experience but it's hard to find time these days with the baby! She's asleep at the moment so here goes. I'll start at the beginning...

It was Sunday. I was due for my induction on Monday at 8 a.m. One week past her due date. The doctor had told me that it would be much better for baby and me if she came naturally but what can you do? I discussed it with Michelle (yes I'd been talking with her, reading to her, singing to her for many months in utero.) I told her that this was her last chance to come out before they came in to get her. I had asked the doctor if there was anything I could do to bring on labour. Her reply was sex (not a possibility!) and MSG (how much Chinese food can you eat?!) Other people had told me that walking might help. It made sense. Being on your feet may push baby down a little, with the force of gravity and all.

I had been staying with my sister (she and my Mom were going to be with me during delivery. I sure didn't want to go through this alone!) She needed to pick some things up anyway and suggested we go to the mall. It was a distraction if nothing else. I was getting very nervous about the induction on Monday. While at the mall I had some pretty severe Braxton Hicks contractions (at least I thought that was what they were. It couldn't be labour I reasoned because there was no set pattern. They just came randomly.) I also kept experiencing the need to run to the bathroom only to be frustrated that I couldn't go when I got there. Constipation usually isn't a problem for me. Usually it goes the other way. I got tired of running to the washroom and pushing for nothing. Then as we were leaving the mall, I got the grandaddy of all Braxton Hicks contractions. I must have looked a sight. 41 weeks pregnant, massive belly, swollen legs, heavy breathing, grasping my abdomen, a pained look on my face. A kind man held the door for me "Are you OK?" he asked, with genuine concern in his eyes. "Just Braxton Hicks" I said. He thought I was going into labour. I wasn't convinced.

We headed back home. I was trying to keep busy. I sewed a stuffed seahorse (I had a nesting urge. Some people knit booties but I don't knit. The mobile was done but I figured I'd make a couple of little stuffed seahorses. It gave me something to do with my hands aside from gnawing my fingers to the bone.) We watched TV. I kept feeling like I had to go to the bathroom, the way I had at the mall. It was happening more and more frequently. At around 8:30 PM when I hit the washroom, there was blood. The bloody show! I had read about it. OK. It seemed like something was happening. Maybe my water would break. Maybe my baby was going to come naturally without induction. But my water didn't break. The blood was just a few drops, not much of a show, really. I asked my sister if contractions feel like really bad menstrual cramps mixed with feeling like you have to run to the toilet with diarrhea but when you get there you're constipated. She said that wasn't how hers were. I didn't know what to think. But something was happening. The pain was getting worse and more frequent each time I ran to the toilet. I finally thought "This is ridiculous! I might as well start timing them." So I wrote the time down. It was just past midnight. 12:09. The next one was 12:19. Then 12:29. "Holy cow!" I thought. "I'm really in labour! The contractions are 10 minutes apart." I told my sister. She asked if I wanted to go to the hospital. I said I'm not supposed to go until they're 5 minutes apart or my water breaks. Each time the pain was a bit worse. It would last a minute and go away. Then things started to accelerate. The pain got worse still after 1 a.m. and the contractions were 5 minutes apart.

I called the hospital and told them what was happening, that I was due for induction in the morning but that baby had beat us to the punch. They said to come in. My sister tried to call my Mom and couldn't get her! Really?! Your daughter is pregnant, could give birth any minute and you don't have the phone by your bed?! (As it turned out, her ringer didn't work. My brother drove her to the hospital later.) My sister called her mother-in-law to come watch the kids and we headed to the hospital.

The contractions were really bad now. I couldn't wear a seatbelt. I faked it by pulling it over me when we passed a cruiser (I thought if someone dares to pull us over he's going to get an earfull!) The ride was brutal. Every bend, every bump in the road was excruciating. My fantasy of labour pains being "just like menstrual cramps" was being shattered.

We got to the hospital and they told me I was 2 cm dilated. It was around 2 a.m. The nurse was very nice and supportive. She told me that I could elect to stay at the hospital and could get the epidural but it would be ideal if I could wait a little longer. She suggested I go home, take a bath, have a tea and come back when I'm 4 cm dilated."I think you can handle it," she said. She had more faith in me than I did.
"How will I know when I'm 4 cm dilated?" I asked.
She explained that the contractions now lasted about a minute and in between them there was a break without pain. I would know things were bumped up a knotch when there was no break from the pain, when even between contractions was uncomfortable and painful. Great. That didn't sound pleasant but I decided to tough it out. The idea of sitting in a warm bath for an hour or so was preferable to sitting in the hospital. So we headed back home. I hoped my sister could grab a little sleep.

It was soothing being in the bath. The contractions kept getting worse. With each one I would think "this is as bad as it gets" until the next one would be even worse. I realized that until now I had no idea what pain was. Nothing could prepare me for this. No one can tell you. You have to experience it yourself to understand. I had heard so many stories ranging from "the pain is unbearable" to "it's not so bad." One thing the nurse had said stuck with me "Remember that the pain is natural, that it's necessary, that it's for a good cause -- your baby. She'll be worth it." It kept me going. When I'd have a contraction, I'd breathe through it, huffing and puffing like they do in the movies. I clenched my fists. I kept thinking "It's just for a minute and it's over." When it would end it was such a relief. I prayed to God for strength to get me through this. I tried to use affirmations, positive energy, meditation. I was proud of myself. I was toughing it out. I didn't have a clock. I didn't know how long I'd been in the bath. I wanted to give May a chance to sleep a little. I wanted to impress the nurse that I could manage the pain and come back when I was at 4 cm. I cheered myself on. You got this. You're doing great.

And then everything changed. The worst pain yet, the worst pain of my life, beyond description and then after the minute was up, there was still pain, not as severe but still no picnic. Oh my God. I can't do this anymore, I thought. There's no break. I could endure anything for one minute, looking forward to the next break but when there is no break, when it's just endless suffering, I can't take it. I was done. Get me to the hospital. Give me an epidural. Please!

So I woke my sister, who had had about 1 minute of sleep, to drive me to the hospital.

It was 5 a.m. "Good girl!" the nurse said "You're 5 cm dilated!"
I was proud of myself. I had overshot the mark even. Great. Now please get me an epidural. I'm dying here.

It's ironic given the fact that I've had a phobia of needles my entire life that my salvation from pain would come in the form of a giant needle to my spine. I couldn't wait. I had heard that the pain would cease instantly. That from then on I would feel pressure but no pain. I couldn't wait. I didn't know how much longer I could take these contractions. Which now just felt like one cruel horrendous never-ending wave of pain.

Then she arrived, the epidural goddess. I had to sit up, at the edge of the bed, my hospital gown open. I didn't want to see the needle and luckily couldn't since it was behind me. I was a little nervous but mostly just anxious for the pain to end. She told me that it would sting a lot. When she stuck the needle in me, the sting was so negligible compared to what I was going through that it didn't even bother me. I realized I would never faint at a needle again. I realized that anything I ever went through in life now would be a cakewalk compared to this. And just like that, the pain was gone. Beautiful, delicious, pain-free moments. My butt started to feel really warm. I started to feel itchy. I asked if I could scratch. They said no. I didn't care. I'll take itchy over pain any day! Even my face got itchy. I scratched when no one was looking.

I wasn't a fan of the IV or the catheter but I was feeling no pain so nothing mattered anymore. I was happy. My Mom made it to the hospital just in time to see happy, mellow, pain-free Ann Marie. She admitted that she was relieved she didn't have to see me suffer through the worst of the labour cramps.

Now I was hungry. I hadn't eaten anything since before 8 pm the night before. I'm used to eating every few hours. I was starving. I figured I wouldn't be allowed to eat during labour and I wouldn't want to poop on the table (it was something I'd heard could happen. Frankly I didn't want it to happen to me) but I felt so weak I didn't know how I'd make it through the next several hours. I was eating ice chips and pretending they were freezies. A nurse brought me some toast and jam. It was the best toast and jam of my life. She offered a banana popsicle and it was like winning the lottery.

The next time they examined me (which wasn't fun but really just pressure rather than pain in there) they said that I was 7 cm dilated. I thought this was great, I'm really progressing quickly. I knew that 10 cm is the point where you push though they said that you don't push right away, they like to give the baby a chance to wiggle out on her own. Does that really happen?!

Unfortunately I was stuck on 7 cm dilated for a long time. Several hours later I was at 9.5 cm dilated. So close! And then I hit 10. We were getting so close now. I wondered what it would be like when I had to push.

They had a button for me to press when I wanted more epidural juice. It locks you out though once you're at the limit so you don't OD. It makes a little ringing sound. I heard that sound a few times. When I started to feel a little something I was hitting that button like a fiend. I didn't want to risk running out. I made them assure me that there was no way I could run out. When another bit of it dripped through it made a little squeak like a mouse. I mentioned it to the nurse. She said one of the patients was convinced there was a mouse on the windowsill. I trusted that it was just my lovely epidural machine.

Then it came time to push. They described it as pushing through my butt as though I had to go #2 really bad. I was an expert in this area. Having suffered from constipation the day before and having suffered from IBS for years and spent an inordinate number of hours on the toilet, I was a pusher extraordinaire! Unfortunately, as wonderful as the epidural is, the problem is that it paralyzes you so that you can't actually feel yourself pushing. You can't tell if you're pushing or not. So when I held my breath and pushed, the place I felt it most was in my face. It felt like my head would implode. I wasn't sure I was even pushing down there. Apparently I was and they said I was doing a great job. A nurse was holding one of my feet, pushing my leg up to help with each push. My Mom was at my other foot. My Mom was too gentle. She wasn't pushing my leg hard enough so I was yanking the back of my leg myself to help things along. My wrist was aching. I had had carpal tunnel before this so this wasn't helping. Later my sister stepped in to help and she was a lot stronger and more forceful than my Mom.

Then they called in another doctor. The baby apparently needed to be turned around a little. In walked Dr. Marquis de Sade. He reached in, up to his elbows I think, and was twisting things and doing God-knows-what. It hurt. I was not happy. Nothing was supposed to hurt. What about my epidural? I was just supposed to feel pressure. This wasn't pressure, it was torture. I decided I hated this man. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't like you!" I told him. "This is the first pain I've felt since 5 a.m.! I'm not a fan!"
"I'm just trying to deliver your baby," he said.
"Yeah. I know. It just figures that the one man in the room is the one to hurt me!" Yeah. I have men issues...

On top of Dr. Pain twisting my insides, he'd brought with him a little tour group (my sister explained it was just one student/intern and the rest were a group of nurses) to gawk at me at the most harrowing moment of my life. I wasn't impressed but I had more important things to worry about than strangers seeing my cooch. I kept pushing. It seemed we were getting close but no cigar. Then Nurse Ratchet, accomplice to the Marquis de Sade started pushing on my leg so hard she nearly folded me in half. Even the doctor scolded her that she was going to damage one of my body parts. I hated her.

The doctor got out a plunger (vacuum?) and salad tongs (forceps) to try to pull the baby out as I pushed. Gone was my fantasy of having a pain-free, easy delivery via my lovely epidural. This was scary now. The doctor even started to threaten me "If you can't push hard enough, we're going to have to do a C-section." That was the last straw. I didn't go through all this just to have a C-section. I would push harder and longer than ever. I would strain to hold my breath as long as possible. This had to be it. So I gave it everything I had and then some. Like my life depended on it, because at that moment it did. And then, she was out!
"That's it!" they said.

It was 18:19 and my baby was born! I saw her being carried away. But where was the cry?! She wasn't crying. I started to panic. The nurses had her off to the side. I was so relieved when I heard her cry. But it was a weak cry of distress. They said there was a problem with her breathing. I was terrified. Please please please let her be OK.

I started to cry. I was so scared. So overwhelmed. One nurse (possibly the dumbest human alive) asked why I was crying. Ummm...I just gave BIRTH you friggin idiot, it's a bit of an emotional time. Not to mention my baby may not be BREATHING! Not to mention I'm on NO SLEEP, NO FOOD (except a popsicle and a piece of toast) for a day.

They were checking her out. Weighing her etc. She was 9 pounds, 4 ounces. Holy crap! No wonder there was tearing. They had to do an episiotomy. He told me the stitches would dissolve. In the end I did thank the male doctor for his help in delivering my baby.

They brought me my little girl and lay her on my chest, to calm both her and me down. It seemed to work. She stopped crying and her breathing settled down. She was a healthy, pink, blue eyed, redhaired baby girl. I was beyond grateful, beyond relieved. I had my baby and all was well with the world.

A little redhead like her Mama. I had been hoping she'd be like me and not like her father (who, as you know if you've been following my blog won the coward of the year award by disappearing when I was 4 months pregnant).

"We made it, baby," I said to Michelle. With tears in my eyes, I started to recite the words to Goodnight Moon. I had been reading it to her every night since February. Now I could talk and sing and read to my baby and hold her in my arms. I had loved her so much before I even met her. Now it was even more intense having her here. And the pain I'd endured was more than worth it. I would do anything for her.

I've never been a fan of hospitals. Staying in them is far worse than visiting. Most of the nurses were nice. I got stuck with a clueless one unfortunately. She kept calling the baby "he" even after I'd corrected her 15 times, even when I put a pink sleeper and blanket around her. Apparently a lot of women gave birth on that day but everyone else had a boy. I had the only girl. So the Absentminded Nurse couldn't keep track. She also admitted that she was distracted since she'd just sold her house. She was getting on my last nerve though. I'd ask her for pain medication (the stitches were pretty sore) and she'd forget to bring it. She'd snap at me about going to the bathroom and get annoyed that I wasn't moving quickly enough (excuse me! I just gave birth! Have some sympathy. I'm a little sore!) She snapped at me when I asked questions like I was an idiot and should know (about meconium coming out from the womb for the first few days etc). "Sorry if I ask stupid questions" I said "this is my first baby. I'm not an expert."

The only thing worse than my nurse was my room. I was bunked in a semi-private with a couple who also had a newborn baby that screamed every hour or so. So even when I had Michelle settled down, the other baby would cry and wake her up and then she'd be crying. Even when both babies were miraculously silent for 5 minutes, the father of the baby snored all night. I was in hell. Plus, I like my privacy. Especially when I'm trying to nurse my baby. People kept moving the curtain and I wouldn't be able to get up to pull it back across so people could just saunter by and see me in my bed. I was so frustrated.

The food situation wasn't much better. It was pretty awful. I ordered chicken on a kaiser and they gave me a hamburger. I ordered a banana and they gave me apple sauce. I guess placing the order was merely a wish/suggestion and they just substituted whatever they had in that category.

The hospital must have been pretty hard up because they didn't even have supplies for the baby. The nurse was relieved that I had brought my own diapers, baby wash, lotion etc.

By the next day I was fit to be tied. I begged my doctor to let me go home. She said there was a series of tests that they had to perform at the 24 hour mark but if all was OK then I could leave after that. Thank God. I couldn't wait to get out of there. One much more helpful nurse taught me the proper technique for breastfeeding. It felt like kind of an awkward position. I really didn't like any of the positions I'd been shown. None of them felt natural. My baby was much more powerful than I expected. It felt like she had teeth! My nipples were raw! My sister explained that it does hurt in the beginning but your nipples toughen up and get used to it (like getting calluses on your fingers when you're learning to play guitar, only much more painful!) The nurse commented about the baby's suction power. I joked that her father had been a vampire, so maybe it was partly inherited. "Be careful when her teeth come in!" she warned.

After they'd done the tests and everything was fine I was so relieved to be given the OK to go home. My mother had said it's terrible how the hospital kicks you out after only a day now. They used to keep you in for a week. I said I'd never survive a week. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I couldn't wait to get home and get some sleep.

Not that I would get a lot of sleep. The first day home was difficult. The baby barely slept at all. I tried to feed her and my nipples looked like a war zone.My baby literally drew blood. I would do anything, go through anything for her, but I was feeling overwhelmed. It was so much harder than I thought.

Luckily after a rough first couple of days, I started to get into my groove. She actually sleeps a little now and I've managed to catch some sleep. I've been wanting to write a new post but never had the time or energy. Now it's been a week since I had her.

I love her so much. I can't even explain it. I am mesmerized by her. There are times I just lay next to her and stare at her in awe. She's like an angel. She smiles. When I say I love you or touch her cheek she gets this beautiful adorable smile (someday I'll actually capture it with my camera! I'm determined!) They say that babies don't smile that early and that it's just gas but I don't buy it. My baby smiles. And she said Mama on her first day (in the midst of her crying, she very distinctly said "Mama." My Mom heard it too. Of course it was probably coincidence. Or maybe she's a genius. When I recite Goodnight Moon or sing her the lullabies I've been singing to her for months in utero, she does calm down, she gets a look on her face of recognition. On some level maybe she remembers, she realizes I was that voice all those months before she came out. I'm her Mama. I love her more than anything and I'd do anything for her.

I didn't know what pain was until I went through labour.

I didn't know what love was until I looked into my baby's eyes.

Welcome to the world, Michelle! It's been quite an adventure so far, for both of us, and I know there is much more to come.

You and me, little girl!

xo