The Artist Formerly Known as Baby H

Hello Ladies!

If I had known that the previous post would be the last before I gave birth, I would have written something a little more poetic- and I don't mean an ode to my cankles- something more along the lines of a nice sum up of the pregnancy and my hopes and dreams for the delivery and beyond.  But as fate would have it, just four days after my last post, my world changed forever and the days of blogging leisurely during my prep period at work came to a sudden halt. 

Some of you have asked if I will continue blogging now that C is here.  I hope that the answer will be "yes," even though I started this post 3 months ago and am just now finishing it!  But now that the fall is here, and Mom and Zandar, along with all of my teacher friends are back at work, I feel like I am now officially beginning my journey as a stay-at-home mom.  And I think that I will be able to keep writing- if not the long rants as in the pre-baby days, at least little vignettes into the life of a new mommy.  I hope that I'll be able to keep you laughing, though I'm not sure that life will be quite as entertaining.  As it is, when I talk to friends and family who fill me in on their exciting lives, I eagerly and wistfully listen and then proceed to fill them in on MY exciting goings on.  It usually goes something like this, "Well, C woke up a little early for her 10 o'clock feeding so we fed her a little early but luckily she went right to sleep after that and then made it until 2:15, when she had a giant poop..."  Seriously.  It is amazing just how quickly you become "that person."  It is pretty much instantaneous and unavoidable.  These are the events that make up your every waking moment (and let's face it, there aren't too many moments that aren't "waking" anymore) and you somehow lose sight of the fact that the bowel movements of your newborn aren't quite as interesting to everyone else as they are to you.  It doesn't matter that you swore you'd never be "like that." 

So even though I think that my future posts will most likely be short and sweet, I feel that I have to bring some closure to the pregnancy saga and put into words just how C came to be.  Since the secondary purpose of this blog was to have something to show Baby H when he or she was old enough, and now that we know that Baby H is a girl and might actually be interested, here goes:

On Good Friday, April 7, our band had a gig. At this horrible dive bar.  Ivan and I had gotten into several arguments about the fact that he booked a gig- without consulting me- a mere 2 weeks before our baby was due.  Ivan was convinced that I was going to go late (we had learned in Lamaze class that 65% of women do) and that all would be fine, though we did ask Zandar to sing one of the sets as my stamina was not so great at almost 38 weeks.  As it was, I sang the first set, not without some strange looks from the bar's staff and patrons.  One of the owners assured me that I could deliver on the pinball machine if need be.  Zandar rocked out the second set and then my entire family booked it out of there, leaving Ivan to fend for himself for the third set because, as my dad put it, "My grandchild is NOT gonna be born here."

The next day, Zandar and I treated ourselves to Spring Break Celebratory Manicures and Pedicures.  I strayed from my typical coral color selection and instead chose a pastel pink that read "Easter" to me called VanGogh'd, also appropriate because we were eating at a nearby restaurant that night called Van Gogh's Ear.  We were celebrating my dad's 60th birthday, first with dying Easter eggs, then dinner, cake, and a concert- a Queen tribute band to which Cecelia and my bro had gotten the family tickets for Christmas.  During cake time at our house, we premiered a movie we had made for the occasion, called, "Stuff Our Dad Says" that us "kids" had filmed the previous Sunday.  Without delving too far into it, we basically took turns "playing" our dad in some of his finest and most repetitive moments.  The entire family was in hysterics and our dad fell off of the couch from laughing so hard.  He contends that it was the laughter that sent me into labor later that night.

We set off for the concert which we all thoroughly enjoyed, though maybe no one more that Baby H.  Throughout the night, the baby was kicking up a storm.  The family took turns with their hands on my belly, feeling the crazy in-utero dance moves and shaking their heads with laughter.

Ivan and I were in bed by midnight, poised to wake up to hear Zandar sing 7:30 Mass the next morning.  But Baby H had other plans.  Around 2:00 am, a contraction much more intense than the Braxton Hicks versions I had been experiencing for months woke me up out of a dead sleep.  "Hmm... that was weird," I thought and went back to sleep.  About an hour later, the same thing happened.  "Okay, I'm going to keep track of this, just in case."  I made a note on my phone and tried to return to sleep, but couldn't as the contractions started to come more and more frequently.  My heart rate quickened as I thought, "Oh my gosh- I'm having this baby soon!"  I didn't wake Ivan, as I knew he would become a nut just as soon as he knew and I thought that at least one of us should get some sleep, so I waited until 6 am when he stirred to fill him in.

As expected, the moment he knew, Ivan sprang into action.  I asked him to make me a cup of tea, knowing that labor takes a long time and that you are supposed to do as much of it as possible at home. I had envisioned staying in bed for awhile, trying to stay comfortable, and taking advantage of Ivan waiting on me, though I knew I was only allowed to have clear liquids and maybe some Jell-o.  When that cup of tea took 20 minutes to arrive to my bedside, Ivan explained that he had filled up the teapot to the brim, and when he couldn't figure out why it was taking so long to boil, he realized what he had done. I called my mom to let her know that I was in labor and that I planned to relax in bed for awhile.  She told me, "B, don't wait too long- I would get in the shower and start getting ready."  I listened to her, even though I was sure I had plenty of time.  I had called to let the doctor know I was in labor and was basically told to come in in a week.  Not really, but when the contractions were 5 minutes apart, which, at 12 minutes apart, seems like a week away.

I got in the shower, and washed my big belly for the last time.  However, I didn't have a contraction for 20 minutes and I started to think the whole thing was a false alarm- embarrassing, considering I had already texted my siblings and Ivan had let his family know.  Post-shower, I laid back down in bed in my robe and towel wrapped around my head.  Suddenly, I felt a pain, the likes of which I had never experienced.  The sensation was a cramping, gripping pain that made me arch my back involuntarily, as it came on strong and grew unbearable.  I turned to Ivan and said, "Oooookay, not a false alarm."  I got up and started to get ready, putting on my Easter dress (far be it for me to not put a new outfit to use), putting on makeup and drying my hair, more to distract myself from the contractions, now coming at quicker intervals than for vanity.

By the time we were dressed and ready, the contractions were coming steadily every 5 minutes.  I eagerly called the doctor again, and was told to call back when they were 5 minutes apart for an hour.  Discouraged, we headed downstairs and Ivan put on old episodes of The Office in an attempt to take my mind off of my pain, but even the funniest moments (Dwight giving himself a concussion) could only bring a tight-lipped smile to my face.  We continued to time the contractions, and after 45 minutes, they were about 3 1/2 minutes apart.  Ivan decided that we were going and that we'd call from the car.  Of course, we had no gas.  So there we were, stopping on the parkway for 10 dollars worth of gas, with me doing my Lamaze breathing like some bad movie cliche.

We arrived at St. Peter's and were placed in a room after some paperwork (I thought the point of pre-registration was so you don't have to sit across a desk and sign things while you are in the process of delivering a child!).  The labor and delivery nurse got me all set up and our doctor can in to check my progress.  Of all of the doctors in my group, this doctor was probably our least favorite.  From her assessment though, it would seem that she might not even be on duty when I delivered, because she put me at 2 centimeters and proceeded to show me a chart and explained that the whole process would most likely take all day and night, complete with hours of pushing.  On the chart, 2 centimeters looked like a pinpoint and 10 centimeters looked like a black hole (at least it did due to the circumstances) and the amount of pain I was in did not seem to bode well for the medication-free delivery I had envisioned.  I felt like it would be impossible to keep my strength and spirits up for 15 hours.  The doctor scurried out, leaving me blinking at the door as if to say, "Wait... that's it? Aren't you going to hang out in here, maybe tell the baby to come out?"

In the meantime, unbeknownst to us, our families had arrived downstairs.  My mother quickly worked her magic, schmoozing with the person behind the desk to allow any 2 people to come up to the room to see us, so long as they rotated.  She was the first to come up.  It was so good to see her-  there is just something about seeing your mommy, especially when you are not feeling well, or in this case, when you feel like a boa constrictor has wrapped around your middle and is relentlessly squeezing, that just makes you feel instantly better.  I don't remember much about what she said to me, but I know that I felt comforted knowing that she was there.

She left the room and my dad and Zandar came in.  I remember my dad kissing me on my head and holding my hand.  I remember reading Zandar's face and seeing that she was having a hard time seeing me in this much pain.  Everyone was watching the screen behind my head and could see when the next contraction was coming.  Though they tried to hide it from me, I could tell when it was going to be bad.  I wasn't much a a conversationalist at this point and I began to think of all of the TV episodes and movies we had planned to watch during the labor and the book I had packed... what an idiot.

By the time Dad and Zandar switched out with my MIL's, I don't think I could manage more than a couple of words.  I remember them being very respectful of my pain, giving me kisses and hanging in the background.  My MIL's left, but as my brother and Cecelia were about to take their turn, I felt a warm gush and I cried out, "Oh!  My water just broke!"  They were not allowed in, as the nurse had to change my bedding and also inform me that my contractions will now become painful.  Ummm... what?  I told Ivan that there was no way that I could continue like this for 15 hours (I don't know why I got that number in my head, but I did) without help. He told me that of course that I should do whatever I needed to do.  At that point, though, my nurse checked my progress and in astonishment told me that I was at 6 centimeters.

I'm not going to lie- I felt a little bit vindicated.  All this time the nurse clearly thought I was either a wimp or a drama queen (She had actually said, "Well, they call it labor, not fun.") and I had been progressing through the stages of labor way faster than she had thought.  She called for the doctor.

At this point, things get a little fuzzy in my memory.  What I know is:  that the baby's heartrate dropped when my water broke.  The doctor came in and checked me and said I was at 10 centimeters.  The big door that they open just before delivery openned.  I was given oxygen and asked to spell my name and I almost gave my maiden name.  The anethesiologist came in and was sent away.  The doctor was filling out paperwork for banking the cord blood when I yelled out, "I feel like I need to push!!!"  The sensation was incredible- like my body was going to push without my mind's consent- this baby was coming!!! 

With Ivan holding my leg and encouraging me, I was told to push, and push I did.  The doctor, who we had been dissappointed would be delivering our baby suddenly became the best cheerleader in the world, yelling, "Come on, B!  Come on B!"  The pushing was actually a relief from the pain and three contractions with three pushes each, we had a baby!  I heard them using feminine pronouns for what I had become convinced from the assertions of others due to the way I was carrying, was my baby boy.  When someone said, "It's a girl!" I felt the world spin.  I was in complete shock.  I hadn't told anyone other than my mom and Ivan, but at our 20 week ultrasound when we did not find out the gender, the technician had referred to the baby as "he."  I thought that she had blown it, though I didn't question her on it.  I had bonded with what I thought was our little boy in my belly and here, lying on my now floppy stomach, staring at me with big, blue eyes, was a little girl!  She was 7 lbs. 5oz, 19 1/2 inches long and absolutely perfect.  She had loads of thick black hair, just like her mom and dad both had when they were born.  (On a side note, when she was still inside and the doctor was feeling around to check her out, she remarked, "I think it's gonna be a baldy!"  I don't know what she was feeling, but it clearly wasn't this child's head!)

While the baby got a wrapped up and I got stitched up, Ivan informed my mom and Cecelia, who had been waiting in the hall and were completely concerned and confused when they heard a baby cry so much earlier than expected, that we had a baby girl and all was well.  When Ivan returned to me and our baby was placed in our arms, we looked down at our little angel and discussed what to call her.  There were two options on the table, and to that point I thought that I was leaning away from Cadence Faith.  I told Ivan that he could choose and I was surprised to find that I was dissappointed when he first chose the other option.  "Are you sure?" I asked.  "No," he said, "You are Cadence."  And being born on Easter Sunday (mass was being played on the television as she was born), how could we not go with Faith as the middle name?

Mom and Zandar were the first to come in the room, with tears in their eyes, and they were quickly followed by the rest of our families.  What a blessing that everyone could be there to share in our joy and excitement.  The clan followed Ivan and C to the newborn nursery to watch her get cleaned up and I got some much needed one on one time with my own mommy, after becoming a mommy myself.

The party continued through the next two days at the hospital.  Never have I felt so surrounded by love.  So many friends and family came and held C and welcomed her into our lives.  A lot of them brought junk food too, which was so appreciated.  :) God truly blessed us beyond anything I could imagine or deserve.  When all was said and done, we got to the hospital at 11:00 am and she was out at 12:39.  The doctors and nurses were almost in as much shock as we were.  They told me to be sure to remind them of this for the next delivery- I certainly don't want to have the next one on the Parkway, or worse, at some horrible dive bar while belting out "You Oughtta Know."  I really didn't even have a chance to mess up my hair or make-up, which I know made many facebook onlookers quite unhappy.  And my unorthodox pink nails suddenly seemed like a premonition.

Of course the party had only just begun.  I can't wait to tell you about the adventures we've been on these last five months.  I can guarantee that my hair, make-up, and nails have not been perfect and at times have been downright disgusting.  The first few weeks I was definitely in shock and are really a bit of a blur.  But as I start to re-emerge, a new person, with a new career, and a whole new set of priorities, I can think of no better time to start to remember, reflect, and record this journey, because I'm already learning that it goes WAY too fast.  And I'm so grateful to have you along for the ride.