Maternal aphasia: Week Three

Illness struck the older brother this week, a virus that would not - and still has not - quit. Each day, I hoped against hope he could go back to school, and each day he didn't seem well enough. Last night he spiked a 104 degree fever, so today I finally took him to the doctor. It is just a virus, but I've never seen one stick to him for this long. Poor little buddy. The other night I made myself cry by imagining it was brought on by his broken heart. It hasn't been easy for him to be home with me all week, resenting how much of my time his baby brother takes up. He has said some very illuminating things in recent days, by way of expressing his feelings about Abe. One that sticks out in my mind is one he said in a whisper, then repeated out loud when I asked: "He can't live here." Why? I asked. "Because he doesn't know how to SLEEP." I'm amazed at his capacity for expression, even when what he expresses isn't exactly on the mark... His teacher called our home phone while we were out at the doctor today, and all the kids left a message saying they missed him and hoped he'd feel better soon. Reason #1003 why I love his school.

Baby Abey is on the receiving end of my overzealous dosages of fenugreek to boost my milk supply. For a couple of days at the beginning of the week, I was taking 12 610 mg capsules per day. I woke up Wednesday morning smelling like an Indian restaurant, and realized finally that Abe's frothy, bright chlorophyll-green poops were caused not by the minuscule amounts of formula I'd used to supplement for a couple of days, but in fact by an excess of that milk-producing herb. I have cut way, way back on the fenugreek, but his poops are still quite green. I'm hoping they switch back to the standard-issue butterscotch soon. He's been way gassy because of it, too. Bad mama. Also, having Jonah home all week has meant zero stimulation of Abe's baby senses, aside from the occasional colloquium while he's digesting. Looking forward to getting back to his "education" next week when we have some Jonah-free hours...

This week, I really wanted my mom here. Even with the horrendous conflicts we always seem to get into when she is here. She told me when I was pregnant that when I had another kid I would want to have her around, and she isn't wrong. It sure would be nice. But then I walk outside and run into people I know & like and feel that this is home. Living near my family, but in the suburbs, would not have the same feeling.

Maternal aphasia: Week Two

We got through the first week. The bleary eyes, the excess of house guests. The bris during a blizzard, still surprisingly well-attended. The second week = settling in. Stability. Reality. Some whopping good tantrums by older brother, usually at the same time (late afternoon), always with the same root causes (sleepiness, displacement). Wild hormonal swings of mama, but nothing requiring medication.

Right now it's quiet in the house - Jonah just left for a playdate at a friend's house - and Abe is sleeping in his fleecy lamb suit that's been on since we got back from our early morning doctor visit (he's as slow of a gainer as his brother was, causing me much angst but luckily not as much as last time around). And it's a sunny, warm day. And I am full of gratitude. I believe I got some sleep last night (always hard to say for sure). I've had some coffee. And I want to thank:

Josh - for being the partner in parenting that I wish every mom had. He does so much, and then finds a way to do more.

My friend Sara - who may read this eventually. Sara, you called at the precise moment I needed you to yesterday. Thank you for letting me vent. Thank you for reassuring me it will all be OK. I actually believe it will.

People who do good - and more specifically, in our case, the many parents at Jonah's school who know what we are going through and who have organized to bring us dinners. What an amazing community we've fallen into. I can't wait until my turn comes to reciprocate.

If I'm being totally honest here, I should probably thank myself too. Jonah's difficulty gaining weight when he was born was made all the more difficult by the fact that I shared our predicament with our families, which led to numerous daily phone calls to find out how he was doing, whether he was eating enough, and a downward spiral of advice-dispensing that left me really confused and vulnerable. As soon as I saw that we'd be dealing with the same thing this time around, I asked Josh to not discuss it, and as difficult as it is for me, I haven't discussed it with my parents either. I am reaping the reward now - a chance to help Abe get back to his birth weight without a Greek chorus of voices second-guessing everything I'm doing.

Maternal aphasia: Week One

Indeed, things got going. For real. Except instead of a labor of three hours or less, I was in labor for a full 11 hours, and complained about how long it took. (Which is a bold move, complaining, when your own midwife labored for 60 hours to have her daughter, not 6 months ago.)

Since time is tight and I've already typed up the birth story for another online venue, I'll share it here instead:

I'm pleased as punch to announce the arrival of Abraham Zev, on 2/18/10 at 5 a.m. He weighed 9 lbs 7 oz, measured 21.7 inches, and had a head circumference that was, according to the nurse, "off the charts." Contrary to what my body led me to expect with my quick first delivery, this labor took 11 hours of hospital time. Which goes to show, you can never really tell!

Thanks to early discharge from the hospital birthing center, I was able to birth a baby in the morning and be home in time to sing his big brother a lullaby that night, which was pretty amazing.

Jonah's birth was labeled "precipitous" since I got to 8cm dilation without feeling any contractions, went to the hospital to have my water broken, and had him 3 hours after that. So when I switched to a midwife practice early in this pregnancy, they were very concerned about my first labor and sure that I wouldn't make it to any hospital.

So this time, as I got to 37 weeks, and then 38, and 39, I was sure I was a ticking baby time bomb (and it didn't help that I had two due dates, 4 days apart). I was mystified that things were not quite going as they had before. At 39 weeks I was a couple cm dilated, not completely effaced. I wasn't feeling any contractions, just occasional painful twinges in my cervix. When I showed up for my 40 week appointment, the day before my due date, I was 3cm. And PISSED at my body for not doing what it had last time. The midwife checked me with evening primrose oil, and asked me to hang around the office and call in later. I knew I'd have a few contractions from the internal exam, since that happened the first time around. But we hung out, and nothing was happening except our need to get back in time to pick up Jonah from school, so we came back to Brooklyn.

When I called in later in the afternoon (after trying to take a nap during a playdate with a very loud & contentious little pal of Jonah's), the midwife on call suggested that I come in to the birthing center that evening and see if she could start some midwifery induction procedures. I was anxious to get things going before it became an emergency, because of all of the logistics of Jonah care, so I said yes, thinking we could go in at 8:30, after Jonah was in bed. Instead, it turned out we needed to be there as soon as possible, and definitely before 7:30, because the birthing center nurse on duty was leaving then, the next one on the schedule was out sick, and if I were not there & in labor (or on the way to it) by 7:30, they'd send me to the regular L&D and I'd miss out on the birthing center. So my in-laws showed up to take care of Jonah overnight, we scrambled around (luckily our hospital bag had been packed for a week) and managed to get to the hospital by 6.

We had found a parking lot coupon on the web that promised $20 for 24 hours (which is great for NYC), only to find that it was an outdoor lot, still largely covered with slushy, icy puddles from our recent snow. We decided to deal with it for the savings, and then had to walk a very steep uphill block to the hospital. Good thing I wasn't yet in active labor!

The midwife (who also happens to live on our block in Brooklyn) met us at the birthing center along with the nurse. The rooms there are decorated in a tacky floral B&B style, but the lights were nice and dim and it felt so luxurious to think we'd get to spend some hours there, alone (when Jonah was born, both sets of grandparents were hovering around in the hallway right outside the room!). I was hooked up to the monitor for a bit, and ate a PB&J sandwich. We had brought other snacks from home (juice boxes, Gatorade, raisins and almonds, unfortunately forgot the cookies) but as it turned out, not nearly enough to cover 11 hours of labor.

Then the midwife checked me, again with evening primrose oil. I was 5cm. This is when I realized we might actually get to leave the hospital with a baby.

After they took the monitor off, it was time for an enema. This time I was relieved not to have to hold it in for a full 5 minutes (as I had last time). I wasn't at all sure how to get from the bed (where it was administered) to the bathroom, but somehow managed without making a mess.

Once that was overwith, we ordered dinner from the Greek restaurant across the street, because I remembered the food fondly from last time. I had a spanakopita and a small salad. (Yes, I would see them again later.) It felt very weird to just be sitting around eating takeout food in the room where we'd be having a baby later on. But weird in the best way.

The midwife prepared some black and blue cohosh for me to drink. I think I had about 5 doses in all, maybe 20-30 minutes apart. I could see why people are generally advised against doing this at home, as I could feel contractions start almost immediately after each dose. We started doing a lot of walking too, mostly in the stairwell. It was abandoned and we were close to the roof and could hear the wind whistling up there. It was pretty surreal. We circled the hallways of the hospital, which were more and more quiet as the night wore on.

At this point the contractions were ramping up and I needed to stop walking and deal with them. I would bend over, leaning on a railing, and found myself singing very low notes to get through. The midwife commented that I was doing a good job of keeping the rest of my body relaxed. I guess the contractions were not all that intense yet...

The next time I was checked, I was 7cm! I asked to go in the jacuzzi tub, which was (other than early discharge from the hospital), the principal reason I'd wanted to have a baby at the birthing center. The water felt great, but unfortunately, I had to turn the jets off after just a few minutes - they were very loud and distracting. I was in the tub probably no longer than 20 minutes - my skin started getting pruney and I guess I was starting to feel restless as well. On the next check I was at 8cm! We did some more walking, which was getting tougher (on our next trip up the stairs I remarked that I felt like the Kim Novak character in Vertigo: "It's time to climb the tower, Madeline!"). During one contraction I hummed the lullaby that I usually sing to Jonah, and it made me miss him so much I cried. I then realized how freaking exhausted I was.

When we got back to the room we decided it was time to break my water. The bedside table conveniently housed an amni-hook. I felt a slight gush, followed by lots of trickles, and the contractions that followed really started kicking my ass. After maybe half an hour, I started feeling pressure on my butt and starting thinking it might be time to push. The midwife reached in to check and found the head "right there" (though it had been right there all evening - at one point she was tickling the baby's ears).

I heard the midwife say "OK, she's fully, bring in the table." I stopped making a lot of sense at that point. I was using a wedge on the bed to push on all fours, but it sucked having it in the way between contractions. There was no way to get comfortable. I was still wearing the tank top from my needlessly fancy pajamas, and it was so hot in the room I ripped it off, prompting the midwife to say, "NOW we're getting somewhere." I begged Josh to cut off my hair, because the elastic I'd brought was not keeping it out of my face. And I said more than once that I wanted out of my body, to which the midwife replied that I really needed to stay IN my body at that particular moment.

Pushing, which I'm told lasted 30 minutes total, was excruciating. After all my careful breathing and relaxation I could not seem to isolate the muscles I needed to bear down. The pushes kept escaping through my throat as screams. I finally stopped vocalizing but then found my eyes were pushing instead. The head popped in and out a few times. It was so frustrating! The ring of fire stung me as the head came out, and the midwife told me the next push would deliver the baby. As I had when I was giving birth to Jonah, I looked over to Josh at that moment, and the look of joy and excitement on his face gave me the energy to finish the job. I felt every inch of the baby slip out, and learned we'd had a baby boy.

The immediate postpartum was also excruciating, unfortunately. We had a respite while waiting for the blood to pulse out from the cord, and for the placenta to come out. But then I needed a pitocin shot in my leg, due to some excess bleeding. And then I needed stitches in two places - where I had torn last time around (which looked to the midwife like an episiotomy scar, but it was a natural tear) and then another by the urethra. That last one was the worst to deal with - I had to get a catheter inserted while the stitches went in, and it felt like the stitches were going directly through my clitoris. I made a mental promise at that moment not to have any more kids. The midwife was amazing though - what hard work they do. After she was done she took the time not only to show us the placenta while she examined it, but also to explain the function of each part of it.

We spent the rest of the day in a haze of phone calls, emails, and attempts to nap. The baby was examined by a pediatrician who immediately noticed his tongue-tie, which caused some feeding issues, but after a frenotomy at 4 days old, he seems to be doing great.

We drove home through a miraculously traffic-free rush hour Manhattan (the baby riding unaccompanied in back, by way of getting him used to being a second child), and pulled up to our building to see Jonah and all his grandparents frantically waving from the window upstairs. It was a hell of a day.

Gestational logorrhea: 3cm and going in

At today's checkup I was 3 cm dilated. That's progress of 1 measly cm from last week. Which I'm sure would be fine for some, but I was much further along last time at this point. Still, the baby is pretty low - in fact the midwife felt the head when she did my internal exam, and I felt the baby recoil when she touched it. Some natural induction techniques were applied (membrane sweep, evening primrose oil) and I've had a few contractions this afternoon. After talking with the midwife this afternoon, we've decided to go to the birthing center this evening to see if things can get going for real. I'm looking forward to getting to use the facilities there (jacuzzi tub, king size bed to loll & labor in) and very much looking forward to meeting this kid at last. Wish me luck, phantom readers.

Gestational logorrhea: So close, yet so far

I don't think I can stand the TV on. We rarely if ever have it on, but tonight Josh wanted to watch some Olympics action. And we saw a preview for this Thursday's episode of The Office. Which is the only show we watch. Pam is scheduled to have her baby Thurs night. And my second official due date is Thursday. I have got to have this baby before someone on TV has hers. Got that, baby?

Also I need to have this baby before I sustain any other injuries. I have a chemical burn on top of my left foot from some misplaced "callus eliminator" that the woman used while giving me a pedicure on Saturday. Sunday night, I gashed my right middle finger with the food processor blade. Clearly, I need to lie low and stay away from sharp objects and beauty rituals. Which means I should probably be treating myself like a newborn baby. Milk, burp, and nap.

Gestational logorrhea: The edge of sanity

Jonah looked at me this afternoon and said, "Tomorrow will be a very hard day for you." He was quoting from a favorite book. But I'm hoping it was prophetic. I can't walk around this pregnant for much longer. It's ridiculous. After dinner tonight I'm eating a half of a pineapple.

Gestational logorrhea: The false alarm zone

First false alarm, last night. My first official due date isn't until Sunday, but I had a checkup yesterday and the internal exam revealed I'm still about 2cm, not any more than that, and maybe only 50% effaced, not completely as I'd been led to believe last week. But sitting at the computer around 10 pm I started feeling the baby move, burrowing down a little (the head is right on the cervix), and had an all-over tightening of my belly which signals a contraction (false or real). With Jonah, every time I had an internal exam I would then have a false labor alarm later in the day. Seems like that's what happened this time, too. After maneuvering myself into a lukewarm bath, and sending Josh to dig out the car from under the snow and install the baby's car seat, everything had gone back to normal, and I slept a great, long night. Of course, I wish we hadn't called our neighbors with the false alarm, as they've been nice enough to offer to sleep over here if things get started in the middle of the night. They were very understanding when I called back.

It's terrifying, not being able to trust my body to give me the right signs. Yesterday at the checkup, I was hooked up to the fetal monitor and realized that I couldn't always tell when the baby was moving unless I looked at my belly. Some of the movements I could not detect without looking. I feel like my belly is anesthetized, somehow, and I worry this is going to make me wind up with an emergency home birth.

I need this baby to come soon, for everyone's sake. Poor Jonah is getting tired of talking about the baby in theory - he wants a real one to contend with. I don't blame him.