changing it up (and changing my life)

Bridget likes to change things up. She's eighteen days old and has yet to settle on any type of a schedule. Just when I think I know what to expect, she changes her mind about things--and changes my life.

I'll give you a "for instance." For instance, it seemed as if Bridget was set on only getting up once during the night to feed, about five hours after we put her to sleep (around 11:00 pm, her choice, not mine--I would have liked to go to bed an hour earlier). But the past couple of nights, she's been waking up sooner and wanting to be fed at least twice, despite "cluster feeding" (feeding every hour or two) during the day. Or she seems like she likes to take a long, four-hour nap in the morning, but then some mornings she doesn't. Or today. She took one of those long naps, and then woke up around 1:30 pm and didn't settle down again until half an hour ago (7:00 pm). And despite the fact that she is usually happy, today she just fussed and fed and dirtied her diaper and fussed and fed and fussed and dirtied her diaper and fed and...you get the picture. It is not possible that that little girl was still hungry, since she must have eaten for two-thirds of that five and a half hours. I don't know what was wrong, but it is heartbreaking when I can't get my little girl to stop crying. I want her to be happy always.

Having a daughter is changing my life in more ways than one. Another for instance. For instance, I went grocery shopping with Bridget (alone, since Al was at work) for the first time yesterday. And although she almost always falls asleep in the car, she didn't this time and threatened to start screaming as soon as I got five items in the cart. I broke out the pacifier the hospital had given us (something we don't intend to use often, but it's one thing to have a screaming baby at home and another to have one in the public) and we survived, but we only made it to one store versus the three that I had intended to go to. So, plan shorter shopping trips, at least for now. Of course, those shopping trips need to be planned around her eating/sleeping schedule, too, which means they're always negotiable.

(Ugh. Only chance I have to blog in days and my husband insists on being in the same room and getting up stains that Serena left on the carpet a few days ago. [She's dying. Not going to make it.] This involves getting frustrated with the dog and vacuuming. Why now, of all times? I only have a few minutes. No peace for the tired, cranky, mom in desperate need of being able to write.)

Having a daughter also means losing battles with your spouse. Err, compromising. This one is actually unfair, but I gave in anyway. I was dead set on having Bridget sleep in her crib from day one. That's what a crib is for, after all. (Al's getting mad at the dog again even though I told him to do the stains later if he was going to be upset with her. She just wants to play. It's ruining my concentration.) But Al has insisted on her sleeping in our room. Maybe I've written this before, and if I have, forgive me. Today I'm sleep deprived (not always, though). Of course, Al sleeps through the hour of tiny cries Bridget makes in her half-awake, half-asleep state while she's trying to wake up. I don't. I lie awake listening to it. He also tends to sleep through the wails when she finally fully awakens, and slumbers on while I still have to leave the bed to change her diaper and feed her, a process that takes at least an hour. (Don't believe those people who say it's so much better to have them in your bedroom because you just have to reach over, not get out of bed. First, the diapers need to be changed. That requires getting out of bed. Second, sitting in our bed with our headboard--a short, modern, Ikea bed--hurts my back tremendously. Guess what, mom? You still have to get out of bed.) And I've found that Bridget sleeps much better when she is in her bassinet or crib (this was discovered during the day) rather than the little chair we have her in. The only advantage to this little arrangement is that I've insisted that Al does not have the television on sleep timer to fall asleep. I don't want a two year old who needs a television in her bedroom, and so the tv gets turned off--something I love, since I hate falling asleep to the sounds and lights of a television, and Al has never been good about being fair when it comes to that (no every other night there).

Dinner's probably almost ready, so I'll almost be done, but a few notes about mommyhood that are different than I was told (at least for me--it's probably different for anyone). Guys, you may want to stop reading. For me, breastfeeding has come much more naturally and easier than expected. No trouble except those couple of nights when I was trying to force a schedule. No pain, cracking, bleeding, etc.--everything's just fine. And I was dreading wearing bras to bed (they're uncomfortable enough during the day!) but was told I'd have to because I'd "leak." Maybe I'm different than everyone else, but I don't. Bye bye night-time bra. Finally, I was expecting to be punished for about six weeks for not having a period during pregnancy by having a never-ending, heavy one, but I'm only almost three weeks from birth and the bleeding's virtually over. More like light spotting now. All good surprises, for sure.

Okay, gotta go...dinner is probably overcooked. More when possible!

eyes wide open

Those big, dark blue eyes--I wonder what color they will become?

I've always wondered why babies' eyes change color (see here for one answer). Most (that I've seen, anyway) are born with blue eyes, and Bridget's are a dark, deep blue right now. I don't expect them to stay that way; Al's eyes are a deep brown and mine are hazel. Will she have Al's eyes? Mine? I do think she has my red hair (it especially looks red in the sunlight), but will it be curly when it gets longer like Al's? I find that I can no longer imagine the future like I used to, because I have no idea what to expect out of my little girl. What will she look like? What type of personality will she have? What will she become? It's odd to anticipate something when you have no idea what to expect, but I find myself looking forward to the future while enjoying the infant that I have right now.

Today Bridget was very alert for about an hour, and I loved it. I love watching her eyes dart all over, following the light or trying to make sense of what must be (to her) vague colors and shapes around her. The nurses at the hospital and the pediatrician both said that newborns can only see about a foot in front of them, so I imagine that her field of vision past that point is a bit like me trying to get around without my glasses and contacts (fuzzy shapes, vague outlines, splashes of color that blur into each other--I'm pretty much blind without the aid of my correctional lenses). And she was eating it up today, just looking everywhere. I found myself wishing that Al was home instead of at work so he could enjoy those moments with me. I'm blessed that in this economy I get the opportunity to be a stay-at-home mom for several months (she won't be going to daycare until the fall, and then she'll be at my sister-in-law's mother's house, where my sister-in-law spends a lot of time with her daughter [and, by that time, her daughters--she's due next month]) and get to spend so much time watching my daughter grow up. I'm also blessed that my husband is willing to take on the sole earner role for a while; if only it didn't involve twelve hour workdays--he's going to miss so much!

Al is totally, completely in love with Bridget, even if she gets fussy when we're ready for bed and he stays up until 2:00 am holding her so mommy can get some sleep, as he did last night. We had a late night since Bridget and I went over to visit my Aunt Judy, my cousin Jeanne and her family, and pick up my Aunt Peg from the airport. Peg missed her connection since her first flight was delayed and ended up coming in at 9:30 pm instead of 7:00 pm as planned. And since she wanted to see Bridget more than just in the car (she lives on the other side of the state and was leaving soon), we went back into Judy's and stayed until midnight. Of course, Bridget wanted to eat when we got home and didn't want to be put into her bed for the night. So Al picked her up and lulled her to sleep without my even asking, even though that meant he only got four hours of sleep before work. He left the room so I could sleep, but I'm sure he was whispering to her as he rocked her in his arms. He calls her "Pumpkin." I love to watch him with her, and I'm just so happy to have been blessed with such a wonderful family. Even though I can't imagine it, I'm eager to see what the future holds for us.

bridget ella

The other night, Al was looking down at Bridget as I held her in my arms. "I can't believe we have a baby girl," he said in wonder. I feel the same way. I'm a mother. A parent. Wow.

Bridget is eleven days old today, and it's the first chance I've had to blog since last week. (I'll get the daily thing down again somehow, someway, someday...it just may take a while.) It's also the first day she's slept in her crib (although we have laid her in the bassinet and her little papasan chair) and the first day I've spent alone with her, although Al only worked eight hours today (he normally works a twelve hour shift). It's also the day her umbilical cord fell off. Lots of firsts, and it's not even 4:00 pm!

What's she like so far? Extremely calm. If it's genetic, she must get that from Al because I am so emotionally dramatic that my mom once predicted I would be an actress when I grew up (it does sound more fun than grading papers, but teaching is much more practical). Of course, it's a bit early to tell whether that will change or not, but Bridget only cries when absolutely necessary: "Mommy, daddy, I'm dirtying my diaper and need to be changed," or, "Mommy, I'm hungry. Feed me." Only rarely does she have the "Hold me" cry; we can usually wrap her in a blanket and lay her down and she's fine. And she doesn't mind being held by other people, either; we could pass her around all day and she'd be happy if she didn't have a dirty diaper or wasn't hungry. We only had one bad night, and she had a slight fever that night. I slept with her on my chest to calm her down.

Bridget also tends to sleep well, only needing one feeding during the night--about five or six hours from the last one. She tends to cluster feed in the afternoon/evening, wanting to eat every hour or two; that's what makes the sleeping at night so easy. She also sleeps a lot in the morning. It makes it nice for me. I don't have to nap during the day; instead, I can get stuff done. Today I showered, pumped (Al feeds her once a day by bottle, and it's nice to have a bottle if I plan to be anywhere), did laundry, did more laundry, caught up on my email, and am now blogging. A lot more than I thought I'd be getting done when I was home alone with a daughter and a puppy! (Mya seems a bit depressed, by the way. She just slept all day. Of course, she also puked this morning, so she could just be feeling under the weather. She only wants to lick Bridget whenever she sees her.)

Since being home (and since I've blogged), Bridget has had a parade of visitors (and thankfully, my wonderful husband shampooed the carpets and made sure the house is very presentable) including Todd; Will, Kathy, and Jon; her Uncle Ryan, Aunt Rachel, and cousin Ella; Ethie, Kari, Evan, Lauren, and Aubrey; her Uncle Erik, Aunt Meaghan, and cousin Noah; her Papa (my dad); her Uncle Bill, Aunt Theresa, and cousin Neil; and her Grandma and Grandpa McCaffery. Saturday was a rough day for me since it held most of the visitors and Friday night was the feverish night (I really only got about one hour of sleep). Breastfeeding is the other thing that tends to make visitors hard, since Bridget tends to want to eat right when people arrive and I'm not the type to feed in front of everyone. But that'll die down soon, I'm sure.

Since becoming mommy, I have discovered three baby products that I love: Bourdeaux's Butt Paste, which Ruthie bought me and seems to calm Bridget right down when I'm changing her diaper--and her skin is so perfect that she hasn't had diaper rash at all; the Boppy Bare Naked pillow (but most moms like these), which makes it easier to support Bridget when I'm feeding her (by the way, I hated their Total Body Pillow for pregnant women--it didn't hold its shape, was hard to fit under me, and I ended up cutting it in half because it was so cumbersome); and the Diaper Genie II, which keeps the scent of dirty diapers from me, Al, and most importantly, Mya. It also keeps dirty diapers out of Mya's mouth.

Finally (and this post seems to jump around a lot--sorry), I'm doing well. Very little discomfort left from the birth, but a bit of back pain sometimes. A heating pad and Advil do the trick for that. I do tend to cry for the slightest reason (or no reason at all) sometimes, but I just keep reminding myself that my hormones are raging right now and the crying fits will pass. For someone who is a control freak, I think I'm doing fairly well having a baby now control my schedule. I'm also full of awe and wonder at this beautiful baby girl whom God has given us, and who seems to have changed already. See for yourself:

Tuesday, March 17

Friday, March 20

Sunday, March 22

home sweet hormones

On 2:00 pm Sunday, we had finally received word that we could go home. The nurse would be back in five minutes with discharge instructions and then we could go. I got busy getting dressed (real clothes! Maternity still, since it takes quite a while for the uterus to go back to its normal size, but they weren't a hospital gown...) and dressing Bridget while Al loaded up the car and got the car seat. The nurse came by with the discharge instructions, some of which surprised me.

Not surprising were the instructions about taking care of Bridget: Take her to a pediatrician within the week. Take her temp once a day; if it reaches 100.4 degrees, hospitalization is immediate. If it is lower than that but seems higher than normal, undress her, wait five minutes, and take it again; she could just be too hot. If she's peeing, she's eating enough and not dehydrated. Make sure she pees and poops and eats regularly. Etc.

Surprising were the instructions (well, some of them) about me: No driving for two weeks. What? I hadn't expected that, but the nurse explained that toxemia can have set in and not been caught before labor and delivery, and some moms had ended up having seizures as they were driving because they hadn't been treated for it. Okay, and since I was swollen up even more than before the delivery due to the IVs they had running through me (going home with special hose to try to get the swelling down, when what works best is to put my feet up on pillows when I sleep at night), I was ready to take it seriously. No baths for four to six weeks. Which meant...hot tub is out, too. Why? They don't want you to risk getting an infection of the uterus, which could be painful and bad (probably an understatement, but I'm not sure what types of "bad" could occur--I would imagine complicating future pregnancies could be one of them). Okay. I can wait. I don't even see my doctor again for six weeks, also a surprise, but there were the expected instructions too: keep taking prenatals since I'm breastfeeding, eat, take care of stitches the way they taught me until they dissolve (about ten days), no sex for four to six weeks, expect bleeding for four to six weeks and only use pads to control it, etc. Okay, okay. We signed the paperwork and were ready to head out when Bridget got hungry again. So another forty-five minutes later (around 3:30 pm/4:00 pm by now), we were finally off. As I was wheeled out (very disorienting to be in a wheelchair--I don't believe I've ever had that experience before!), I was so excited. It was near sixty degrees, sunny, and we were going home with our baby!

The minute I walked in the door, though, it kicked in. The messes-drive-me-crazy and look-how-much-we-didn't-get-done instinct. Stuff everywhere in the kitchen and dining room, dirty carpets, dog toys all over the family room, new cat puke on the carpets. And Beth was bringing Mya home and just as I needed to start breastfeeding again (around 6:00pm), Aunt Ann (Al's sister) was on her way over to visit. People that aren't here very often seeing my home a disaster. I wasn't happy about it, and am just now getting to where I'm accepting it and able to start doing something about it. I've been hormonally driving Al crazy about that, and unfairly placing a lot of blame on him. And Sunday night and Monday night were nightmares for me, just because (as Jen warned me) I was suddenly having trouble breastfeeding and it was frustrating both Bridget and I to no end: she just would not accept an every-three-hours timetable (as the lactation specialist had insisted she must) and would not latch on for two hours or more when I tried. That's when the hormones kicked in and the crying started (my crying, not Bridget's). Yesterday I grew more and more worried, since Bridget seems to sleep for hours at a time (I wasn't expecting that) and refuses to be awakened to eat. I finally decided (after receiving reassurances from Ruthann that Makala did that and she's healthy now) that I would let Bridget go longer last night (between five and six hours) and between that and me being vigilant about her diapers (she seems to pee and poop two to three times before, during, and after each feeding), last night's feeding was a breeze. And today the pediatrician assured me that the three hours thing is nothing to worry about: let her choose her own schedule and cluster feed if she wants (she has been doing more of that during the afternoons) and just don't let her go more than six hours inbetween feedings. If she's still peeing, she's getting enough, and she's obviously getting enough since she's gained 2 1/2 ozs. back since leaving the hospital. Whew! And speaking of feeding, it's about that time. So next time? More about Bridget and less about me. More tomorrow...

Oh, and I know you've been dying for pics, so here they are.

hospital stay

I just wrote--and erased--an entire post about the hospital stay, which for us was between Thursday (already blogged about) and Sunday. The post was so bad I got bored writing it, so I figured no one would be interested in reading it. Instead of giving you an hour by hour account of the happenings at the hospital, I'll just fill in some details about what most moms already know and soon-to-be moms will probably want to know.

First, the hours after birth weren't anything like I imagined they'd be. I'd pictured myself sitting in bed for hours holding my beautiful baby, trading off with my husband (who was conveniently by my side the entire time), and allowing visitors to hold her (or him, if it would have been a boy) for a few minutes at a time. Ha! In the first few hours of her life, I barely held my daughter, and I don't think Al had her much more than I did. Those hours were filled with Nurses, Interruptions, and Other People. Nurses: Fussing over Bridget (monitoring her vitals, checking her over, cleaning her, taking blood sugar pricks, etc.) or fussing over me (checking my temp, helping me to the bathroom and showing me how to care for my stitches, offering me pain meds [I only took Motrin] and asking me if I had hemorrhoids [no--my muscles/ligaments in my inner thighs were still painful, and the odd feeling of ice packs and stitches in strange places on top of that made it hard for me to get in/out of bed still]). Interruptions: Okay, these were the nurses interrupting me and my visitors, always kicking them out of the room, taking the baby away, or blocking off a small part of the room and trapping the visitors back there until my "privacy" was no longer a concern. Other People: The visitors--my dad was already there, of course, and Al's parents came by, as well as my sister, Beth; my cousin, Jamie; and my brother and sister-in-law, Erik and Meaghan. I think my mother-in-law, Bridget's namesake, held my daughter more than anyone else that day. My point: my imagined welcome to my baby wasn't anything near reality. But as tired as I was, it wasn't a letdown. I was content to wait until the last visitors were gone to spend some time with my husband and baby, finally admiring how adoringly pudgy she really is. Al stood there by my side with tears in his eyes, and as we both looked down on her, he told Bridget how beautiful she is. It was so precious and sweet. It made up for all of the time taken up earlier that day with NIOP. (Note: Saturday, OP were fewer than I expected, which was nice since it gave Al and I more time with each other and Bridget. Al's parents, Beth, and Jen, Log, Cameron and Caitlyn came by--I think that was it!)

Second, expect even less rest than people tell you you'll get. I'm glad I dozed during most of the labor, because with the two hours of sleep (maybe) that I got Friday night and the three to four hours of sleep (again, maybe) I got Saturday night, by Sunday morning I had my first Meltdown. Crying, demanding that Al help me instead of pulling coats or blankets over his head when he hears the baby crying (as he had done Saturday morning when Bridget started crying while I was in the bathroom; I walked out after hoping he'd wake up to find a nurse technician changing her diaper and him doing his best to go back to sleep), and wondering aloud how I would ever do this and asking how anyone expected a mother to get rest in a hospital environment. But after another hour's sleep, I was somehow fine. So, little rest, high hormones, bursts of energy after short naps. And I felt even better after a shower when I was able to get into real clothes.

Third, ask questions. I thought people would be telling me everything I needed to know, filling my head with info--the nurses, the pediatrician, the lactation specialist, etc. And while they would to an extent, the pediatrician, especially, was not as informative as I'd imagined they'd be. Al was better with coming up with questions than I was, but we had to ask about things like how (and how often) to bathe her, how to care for her umbilical cord (in case you didn't know, they leave it on to fall off within about two weeks; baby doesn't have a belly button right away), etc. We even had to ask about leaving and were informed on Saturday that we could leave when we wanted, either Saturday or Sunday. This turned out not to be the case since the pediatrician didn't discharge Bridget until Sunday, but I think she would have if we would have said we wanted to leave. It also could be different depending on your insurance plan, so I would recommend that you ask about that as soon as you remember to. Same thing with vaccinations: we had to sign a form to allow the hospital to start them, and we forgot to mention it during the day on Saturday so they ended up doing it at 10:00 pm with her overall checkup (hearing test, blood test, etc.).

Finally, turn off your cell phone and hope that people don't use the hospital phone. Instead of calling everyone, I sent most people text messages and let my dad and Al call the rest. My cell phone battery doesn't last very long these days, so the incessant and immediate return texts ("Congrats!") that were so annoying as they kept coming through (appreciated, but another Interruption as I was trying to compose other messages) and the phone calls that people made to me were missed, and I'm glad I didn't plug my phone back in until Sunday morning. I would have been inappropriately annoyed at the constant attention. Al fielded all of the calls on his phone and seemed to enjoy it; it gave him something to be in charge of. It's a useful thing to get your husband to do while you're in the hospital.

Hmm. Not much more exciting (the post), but shorter and more informative. Just know that you'll hate hospital beds and be longing to sleep when you go home. But just as in the hospital, things at home can be different than you expect... (to be continued in next blog).

labor & delivery

When I last left you, I was about to leave the house for the hospital. It was Thursday, March 12. The pic to the right was taken right before we left.

We arrived around 6:00 pm and, although my contractions still weren't steady (and they never ended up being steady, even during the last hour), we were admitted to a room right away. The nurse who made the decision said, "Why mess up two beds (one in triage) when your water has already broken?" I was also soon to discover that we were the only people in the maternity ward at the time--no other babies were on their way quite yet. They got us into our room (a private one, where the labor, delivery, and recovery took place and where the baby stays with you the entire time you're there) and immediately got the belly band monitors on me, drew blood, and put an IV into me. They also did the horrible, no good, vaginal check to see how far along I was. My cervix was already 100% effaced ("You have the best/most ripe cervix I've seen in years," commented the nurse) but I was only dilated three centimeters. They asked me my plan (natural) and then it was up to me. To my body. To sit and wait.

And wait. And wait. And wait. Did I mention before in this blog that nothing goes as planned? Well, nothing in this labor and delivery went as planned.

I sat upright in the hospital bed waiting through the contractions, which, although a bit painful, were nothing that I couldn't handle. I sat through a few television shows, asked to have help getting up when I had to use the bathroom, and vomited each time I got out of bed or the glider, which I kicked Al out of eventually. Vomited violently. A lot. A lot more than just that burrito, Karen. The night is actually a blur, because I was trying to relax and get my rest. I dozed a lot and we barely spoke. My dad came around 11:00 pm even though I told him it would be quite a while; he said he wanted to be there for me (I think because mom couldn't be). He ended up taking the couch/bed that Al could have slept in, but probably wouldn't have. Al was by my side pretty much all night.

Those plans gone awry? Even though I thought my contractions might be getting stronger/more frequent, I never dilated between three and four centimeters on my own. Al and dad had gone to get a snack and warm up (I was so hot all night, that apparently they had the temp in the room down to fifty for me) around 2:00 am when the nurse and her assistant came in and said they had just spoken to my doctor about the lack of progress. He was concerned since my water had broken so many hours earlier and he didn't want infection to set in. I would have to use pitocin or consider a c-section if I didn't dilate more by 5:00 am. I wasn't happy with that news, but there wasn't much I could do besides hope and pray that I dilated. I didn't.

At 5:00 am, they started the pitocin drip. I was still going to try to go without any pain medication, wanting to drug my baby as little as possible. The contractions got stronger (not as painful as I'd imagined) and sometimes more steady, sometimes not (like I said, mine were never consistent) and I got more and more tired. The 7:00 am nurse talked me into some type of pain meds since I was still vomiting, extremely hot, and tired; she talked to my doc and he recommended the epidural over IV pain meds. He also gave me zofran (through my IV) for the nausea. The head of anesthesiology gave me my epidural, and the effects were almost immediate. For the next several hours, I flipped from side to side every half hour and felt contractions only in my butt. That's right, my butt. I had been feeling them all in my lower abdomen, but after the epidural I just felt the urge to--ahem, have a bowel movement--every time a contraction came along. And not too strongly, just--strangely.

Somewhere between 11:00 am and 11:30 am (a lot later than I had hoped/anticipated with the pitocin), the nurse finally let me start pushing through contractions. I was still on my sides at this point, and she explained to Al and I that the advantage of an epidural is that they can have you push and have the baby get much farther down before needing to get you into position to actually deliver. Almost immediately after I started pushing, the nurse told me she could see hair. And I started wondering where my doctor was. I ended up on my back with my legs in stirrups (and in Al's and the nurse's arms during every contraction) before the nurse really wanted me there, but I was getting too uncomfortable on my sides again. The nurse kept telling me she could see hair--the baby's head was right there--and still nothing seemed to happen when I pushed and my doctor did not do more than pop his head in and go back out. How long will this take?, I wondered.

At one point, things were going along in the same manner but my doctor was checking in. I had two contractions very close together and the nurse and doctor coached me through them. Pushing is one of those near impossible things they ask pregnant women to do, because they want you to take a deep breath, not exhale but push as hard as you can for ten seconds, keep up the pressure while you inhale deeply again (um, you didn't let me exhale...) and hold your breath again as you push as hard as you can for ten seconds. Then they have the audacity to tell you to relax inbetween. This time when I pushed, the doctor said, "Whoa, Rhonda! Where did that come from?" And immediately left to get his scrubs on. Seems that in those two contractions (this time, they had me pulling on my upper legs as well) I managed to get the baby to move quite a bit. I thought, Finally!, but it wasn't finally. Even with that big push, with the head "right there," with all the hair showing, I couldn't move the baby more. The doctor offered the use of the vacuum, and by this time I was so exhausted that I agreed immediately. I didn't think I had the strength to do it on my own.

When the time actually came, I wasn't expecting it. I couldn't understand why they kept telling me to "Push! Don't stop! Just push!" even though I wasn't having contractions any more, even though I could not breathe, even though I was in pain. I heard the doctor ask Al if he wanted to see the head coming out, I remember him looking and laughing, I remember someone asking me if I wanted to look (No! I just want this over with!) all while yelling at me not to stop pushing. I felt the head go through and felt like I couldn't push any more and they kept telling me I had to. Finally, at 12:47 pm, I thought I felt the entire baby plop out and gasped, Is it out? Can I stop?, and they were saying yes and putting a baby on top of me. They kept saying things like, "So much hair!" "So big!" and I couldn't see much besides a blurry slimy baby (no contacts or glasses at this point) and asked impatiently, "What is it?" The reply shocked me, made me happy, made me wish I had energy left to cry happy tears: "It's a girl!" I vaguely remember the doctor instructing Al to cut the umbilical cord, which I later discovered had been wrapped around her neck (thus the urgent yells to push).

For the next hour and a half, I felt like a bad mother since I was so drained I had almost no emotional response. I was happy, but enduring the additional pushes (and pushes on my stomach by the doctor and nurse) to get rid of the afterbirth and then to stitch me up (the doctor had given me an episiotomy without asking since I was tearing) was taking all of my strength. I had started feeling cold during the pushing sessions, and although they had adjusted the temp in the room to a "normal" sixty-five degrees and covered me as much as they could with warmed blankets, I was shaking uncontrollably for at least an hour or so after the delivery. My temp was ranging from 96.4 right before the baby was born and to 100.4 a couple of hours after birth, and I had to feed my baby girl within the hour of giving birth (she ate for forty-five minutes, and I found myself wishing the nurse would say she had to take her to give her a bath). So not the emotional response I expected of myself--Al cried and I didn't! But I'm so in love with her now that my response then doesn't matter.

So the details: On March 13 (yes, Friday the 13th, and I don't care anymore), Bridget Ella was born at 12:47 pm weighing in at 10 lbs, 8 ozs and 22 1/2 inches long. She's a beautiful baby girl, and I'll continue her/our story as soon as possible...but right now I should really try to wake up my sleepy girl and feed her. She sleeps so much more than I thought she would!

due date

9:15 am
Due date: Today. My feeling as I sit blogging at 9:18 am? Baby's not coming today. Baby's not ever coming out, actually. It's so comfortable in my tummy, seeing as how it's made so much room for itself, that it's just decided to stay in there forever. It just can't understand why mommy was whimpering and crying this morning when the world slowly rotated (mommy was trying to turn over in bed) or put itself upside down again (mommy stood up). Or why those cries became sharper "Ows" when the world slowly advanced a few steps (mommy was trying to walk and crying out in pain because the baby is sitting so low and the pressure was almost unbearable). The world seems like a scary place to baby with all of those noises going on, so it's decided to stay right where it is. FOREVER.

Okay, that was when I moved from the recliner where I had been sleeping since 1:00 am (it was easier getting out of the recliner than the bed), tried to move back into the bedroom near 6:00 am, and had to get up and move back to the recliner, asking Al to let the dog out/in and feed the animals before he left. Mercifully, Mya didn't ask to be let out again until I was ready to get out of the recliner again around 8:00 am. And since it's not muddy out, I've been able to lean over to attach her collar to the tie-out and unattach it (without wiping her paws) when she comes back in. So far, so good since I don't know if I'd be able to get up again if I went down on my knees to the floor (the reason Al asked me to carry my cell phone on my person all day--I think the "I almost didn't get up" story the other day scared him a little). After a quick brownie breakfast (I'll miss being able to eat like this when I'm not pregnant--at least, miss the guilt-free feeling), I got on the computer and have been here ever since. But I'll be writing this blog throughout the day just to give an hours-by-hours accounting, so I'll be signing off fairly soon here and doing...something else.

I can't believe it. Snowflakes, again. And just last Friday it was almost 70 degrees...

12:23 pm
Multitasking: Managing to do laundry, watch Ellen, eat Wheat Thins and slices of American cheese, and love on Mya all at once. Okay, so none of it was actually that hard, except maybe the discomfort in my ankles when I was walking back up the stairs from changing out laundry loads. But that's what I've managed to do since I got off of the computer, along with a few other things.

One: I showered for the second day in a row. This hasn't happened frequently in the past couple of months since standing around for an hour (the amount of time it takes me to shower, do my makeup and hair, and brush and floss my teeth and use mouthwash) has been getting a bit harder. But since I've been growing my hair out and pregnant, my hair surprisingly looks better the second day rather than on the first. Normally (when I'm not pregnant) going without showering would mean my thick mane of hair ended up in a grease pit the second day. But (and I'm thinking this is the baby effect) it hasn't done that until the third day for a while now, and since I can wear it down the second day if I've put it up with a clip the first day, I've been showering every other day. Anyway, these long explanations are all to say that the only reason I showered today is that Mya has managed to eat most of my hair clips, meaning yesterday I didn't find one until about 4:30 pm and my hair didn't look good down today. So, I decided to shower.

It must have been fate, because I had just finished the shower/hair/makeup/teeth routine and was getting dressed when--Oh!--I think my water's breaking! It's that slow leak instead of a gush (this happens when the baby's head is really low and blocks it from gushing out), and since I haven't had any contractions yet, I wasn't quite sure what to do. I was just a bit surprised (and happy!) that it's happening exactly on my due date. I got on the phone to my doctor first, and he said that since the fluid is clear (no blood, a good sign) and I'm not yet contracting, that I should wait four to six hours before heading to the hospital. So I got on the phone to Al and told him while (multitasking again) walking downstairs to change out the laundry again (this way I can wear my black pants and--you guessed it--slippers, which I washed this morning, to the hospital). Of course, even though my phone has been charging for hours, it died while I was talking to him. I just finished switching up the laundry (remember those stairs?) and waited til I was back upstairs to plug in the phone, turn it on and call him back. In that time, Rick had managed to tell him that his wife's water broke before contractions and they made her walk around, which caused contractions to start coming strong and fast. I'm not going to start walking, though, until Al gets home and ready...don't want to beat Al to the hospital!

The funny/ironic thing is that just as I was writing this blog, Beth texted me: "Baby coming today? Talk him into it!" Her latest hunch is that it's a boy. We don't know that for sure, of course. I had to call her and talk to her.

Well, I'm going to start getting fluids and foods into me and make sure I have everything I need in my bag and the diaper bag. It helps to have something to do to pass the hours, especially since I don't have to suffer contractions yet. Oh, and I should call my family members. Looks like I might have a Friday the 13th baby after all...

4:24 pm
I'm pretty tired right now. Remember, I didn't sleep very well last night, and I've been pretty excited for the past few hours. I also started contractions around 2:00 pm, and from what I can tell (I'm not being very successful at keeping track myself, and since Al's been home he's vacuumed, helped finish the laundry, walked the dog, finished putting together the changing table, cut his hair, and is now taking a shower) they're between four and seven minutes apart. Right now they're like really short, bad cramps. Not too bad. I know they'll be getting worse.

Since last blogging, I have done a bit more laundry, eaten Taco Bell (seven layer burrito minus guac) drank lots of water and some orange-peach-mango juice, and sat and watched television.

Where was I? I was suddenly interrupted by gushing water (probably from sitting straight up to blog), a fairly strong contraction, and a sudden urge to vomit (I didn't). I was thinking about popping in (ow...another contraction...) a movie, but I think we'll probably head to the hospital soon instead. It's been almost five hours since the doc said four to six. But since I'm going to stop blogging, I'll go ahead, post this, and the next post will likely be in a couple of days and include baby pics. Happy Thursday!