Ok, that title may seem dramatic, but how is it that you are already more than six weeks old? Weren't you just born, helpless and kicking imaginary ninjas under the sun lamp meant to cure you of your slightly yellow hue? It sure seems like it, but at the same time, you have gone through a hundred little metamorphoses. Your little infant face is so different every day, and yet still a little carbon copy of your daddy.
You already know how to smile, the sight of which melts my heart into a puddle. Refuse to nap, even though I know you are so tired and that staying awake will throw off your tenuous sleep/wake schedule? Just throw me one of those open-mouthed gummy grins, and I'll gladly snuggle you against me until you drift into slumber. And then stay there, because who wants to unsnuggle a warm sleepy baby? And your snuggling is seriously other level. You squirm your entire body into mine, nuzzling your face under my chin so that you are breathing your magical breath right into my neck. I am consumed with your sweet baby smell and it is the closest thing to heaven I've ever experienced.
You make the funniest noises when you sleep. These can vary from your very unsubtle poop-making grunts and groans, to the softest, gentlest high pitched sighing of satisfaction that you are really just that cozy and content. I look at you and swear I have never been that comfortable or as deeply asleep as you are.
Your awake time is so much more alert now. You are fascinated by lights and shadows. The painting above the couch in the living room is your favorite. I'm not sure what you are seeing when you look at it, but your eyes get lost in there, as if in search for the beginning and end of every brush stroke. You love music, so much so that it will never be the way to get you to sleep. It is a reason to stay awake, to listen intently and bop along with it. You were born with rhythm. Too early yet to see if it's an innate musicality or if you'll have the most wicked white man shuffle in town, but either way, it seems to make you happy.
All this is to say, this love story is only just beginning. The more I discover you, the deeper I fall. You are the greatest conductor of love. Not only do I love you fiercely, but you inspire deeper love for those around us. Your father holds you and makes you giggle, or soothes you when you're having a moment, and my heart is filled with even more love for him. When your grandparents, aunt, uncles and cousins come to visit you, and anxiously take turns holding you, they are newly precious to me, because they are all important limbs in your family tree. I see the qualities I love in them and what I imagine you will learn from each of them. It's contagious, this love. Thank you for letting me see the world through you. It's such a gift.
Love, Mama
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Thursday, January 5, 2017
How I Know That 794 Isn't A Working Area Code
Hey Archer,
Did you know that 794 is not a valid area code? Yeah, me neither. Turns out that's a good thing. I'll explain...
You were born a boy, and boys have, barring some sort of cruel DNA joke, boy parts. That means your pleasure center™ is an outie. If you were a girl you'd have an innie as well as a dual purpose outie. That last part is a more in depth discussion for a few years from now but all you have to know now is that when you have your Pleasure Center™ fully on the outside there's this thing your mom and dad have to decide on, called circumcision.
Circumcision is a procedure that, in terms you may understand, takes that really long sleeve on your elephant pajamas and cuts it back so your gigantic arm can more easily make it out of the sleeve. It cuts back on your arm getting stuck in the sleeve and allows you to show off your Popeye-like forearms without hassle. Your arm won't get as many infections and you won't look different from your dad. You know, should you someday walk in on your mom and I wrestling and accidentally see something.
Does that make sense?
Well it will someday, but that's just the backstory to the story.
We got you circumcised and it was our first time taking you out of the house except for a couple checkups with your pediatrician. She's a great doctor and understands that you're a newborn and susceptible to scary viruses or bacteria until you get a little older. Thus she schedules your appointments first thing in the morning and we get invited back to the exam room almost immediately, which is important. For the first 30 days of your life we needed to keep you away from anything that could give you a fever. If a fever occurred we would have had to bring you in to the hospital for a spinal tap due to scary complications of even scarier conditions.
The place we brought you for your circumcision was, well, let's just say it was like taking you into a house from the TV show Hoarders.
Little kids were running around without parental attention being paid, messing with the visibly dirty toys meant to help keep these disgusting little rugrats busy while Obama personally calls in to add $90 to your copay and inform the staff where you keep your guns. You, being the most beautiful and precious thing currently on planet earth, were in danger of catching something from these scrubs (don't go chasing waterfalls) and wouldn't you know it took 45 minutes of exposure before we got called back. So gross.
Once back your mom politely refused to go watch the procedure. I, on the other hand, am a more curious and tolerable soul when it comes to this stuff and happily went back with you. Not four seconds after walking in the room I was posed with my first solo parental decision that could have led to decades of conflict between your mom and I.
I have barely shut the door to the procedure room when the doc turns to me, holding up what looks like a Dum Dum brand sucker, and says "OK if I give him a sucker?"
(OK, so full disclosure here...Your mom has two faces when it comes to food stuffs. Her main face is the beautiful one you're used to seeing and it appreciates anything organic or sustainable. If it was blessed by a shaman or has a yoga pose on the packaging than all the better. Her other face is triggered by meat or anything your dad likes and IT. IS. SCAAAARRRRRY.
Zero to sixty, buddy. There's no in between.
So just know that suckers at the tender age of 15 days old fall into that second category. It may surprise you that I actually feel mostly the same way, though I am much more willing to let a medical professional do what all of the world's evidence suggests is the best thing in the moment. That being said, this seemed a bit unnecessary.)
I chuckle at first, thinking he's joking. Then I realize he isn't but figure he's interested in giving something for pain (maybe?) that is just in sucker form but is really just very helpful or important medication.
After I chuckle I say that I don't think your mom would be happy about it and he says that it works like a sedative. I still decide to decline because I do believe there's no need for you to have sugar for sedation when they plan on sticking you with needles to numb the whole area of concern.
He tells me it's no problem and starts prepping. It's at this moment that a nurse walks in to assist and, seeing that you have no sucker in your mouth, immediately grabs the sucker and starts to put it in your mouth. Both the doctor and I catch her in time and your CMO diet (Chest Milk Only) is intact for another day.
The doc does his thing and you scream like a little bitch. Ha! Just kidding, you definitely screamed but it was for good reason and there isn't a guy on this planet, save for Kanye West, who isn't man enough to admit he'd have probably cried too.
We get done and the doc gives his instructions for care and what we should look out for. He says we can call him or text him pictures if there's anything we have concerns about.
As it turns out, we did end up having concerns about how things looked and I took to my phone to text a picture to the doctor. Because I'll get flagged by some douchebag if I post the picture I actually took, here's an exact rendering, to scale, of what I sent.
I asked if what I was looking at was normal, expecting to get a text back saying that it absolutely was and I shouldn't worry. Instead, I looked down at the message I'd just sent and noticed I fat-fingered a 9 in place of a 0.
PANIC SET IN!!!
I began frantically typing out an apology and a follow up text using a little humor to hopefully diffuse the situation before some offended person turned me in for trafficking child porn.
Then my phone dinged and I thought, "Well, here it is. I'm either going to get an understanding person or an offended person" and I was overwhelmed with relief to see a text bouncing back mine as not deliverable because 794 isn't a valid area code.
So that's the story about how your junk is totally normal and I almost went to jail before learning that 794 isn't a working area code.
Before I go, a little advice:
They say you should measure twice and cut once but I'd like to change that to check twice and send once when it comes to pics of any baby dicks.
~ Your Dad
Did you know that 794 is not a valid area code? Yeah, me neither. Turns out that's a good thing. I'll explain...
You were born a boy, and boys have, barring some sort of cruel DNA joke, boy parts. That means your pleasure center™ is an outie. If you were a girl you'd have an innie as well as a dual purpose outie. That last part is a more in depth discussion for a few years from now but all you have to know now is that when you have your Pleasure Center™ fully on the outside there's this thing your mom and dad have to decide on, called circumcision.
Circumcision is a procedure that, in terms you may understand, takes that really long sleeve on your elephant pajamas and cuts it back so your gigantic arm can more easily make it out of the sleeve. It cuts back on your arm getting stuck in the sleeve and allows you to show off your Popeye-like forearms without hassle. Your arm won't get as many infections and you won't look different from your dad. You know, should you someday walk in on your mom and I wrestling and accidentally see something.
Does that make sense?
Well it will someday, but that's just the backstory to the story.
We got you circumcised and it was our first time taking you out of the house except for a couple checkups with your pediatrician. She's a great doctor and understands that you're a newborn and susceptible to scary viruses or bacteria until you get a little older. Thus she schedules your appointments first thing in the morning and we get invited back to the exam room almost immediately, which is important. For the first 30 days of your life we needed to keep you away from anything that could give you a fever. If a fever occurred we would have had to bring you in to the hospital for a spinal tap due to scary complications of even scarier conditions.
The place we brought you for your circumcision was, well, let's just say it was like taking you into a house from the TV show Hoarders.
Little kids were running around without parental attention being paid, messing with the visibly dirty toys meant to help keep these disgusting little rugrats busy while Obama personally calls in to add $90 to your copay and inform the staff where you keep your guns. You, being the most beautiful and precious thing currently on planet earth, were in danger of catching something from these scrubs (don't go chasing waterfalls) and wouldn't you know it took 45 minutes of exposure before we got called back. So gross.
Once back your mom politely refused to go watch the procedure. I, on the other hand, am a more curious and tolerable soul when it comes to this stuff and happily went back with you. Not four seconds after walking in the room I was posed with my first solo parental decision that could have led to decades of conflict between your mom and I.
I have barely shut the door to the procedure room when the doc turns to me, holding up what looks like a Dum Dum brand sucker, and says "OK if I give him a sucker?"
(OK, so full disclosure here...Your mom has two faces when it comes to food stuffs. Her main face is the beautiful one you're used to seeing and it appreciates anything organic or sustainable. If it was blessed by a shaman or has a yoga pose on the packaging than all the better. Her other face is triggered by meat or anything your dad likes and IT. IS. SCAAAARRRRRY.
Zero to sixty, buddy. There's no in between.
So just know that suckers at the tender age of 15 days old fall into that second category. It may surprise you that I actually feel mostly the same way, though I am much more willing to let a medical professional do what all of the world's evidence suggests is the best thing in the moment. That being said, this seemed a bit unnecessary.)
I chuckle at first, thinking he's joking. Then I realize he isn't but figure he's interested in giving something for pain (maybe?) that is just in sucker form but is really just very helpful or important medication.
After I chuckle I say that I don't think your mom would be happy about it and he says that it works like a sedative. I still decide to decline because I do believe there's no need for you to have sugar for sedation when they plan on sticking you with needles to numb the whole area of concern.
He tells me it's no problem and starts prepping. It's at this moment that a nurse walks in to assist and, seeing that you have no sucker in your mouth, immediately grabs the sucker and starts to put it in your mouth. Both the doctor and I catch her in time and your CMO diet (Chest Milk Only) is intact for another day.
The doc does his thing and you scream like a little bitch. Ha! Just kidding, you definitely screamed but it was for good reason and there isn't a guy on this planet, save for Kanye West, who isn't man enough to admit he'd have probably cried too.
We get done and the doc gives his instructions for care and what we should look out for. He says we can call him or text him pictures if there's anything we have concerns about.
As it turns out, we did end up having concerns about how things looked and I took to my phone to text a picture to the doctor. Because I'll get flagged by some douchebag if I post the picture I actually took, here's an exact rendering, to scale, of what I sent.
I asked if what I was looking at was normal, expecting to get a text back saying that it absolutely was and I shouldn't worry. Instead, I looked down at the message I'd just sent and noticed I fat-fingered a 9 in place of a 0.
PANIC SET IN!!!
I began frantically typing out an apology and a follow up text using a little humor to hopefully diffuse the situation before some offended person turned me in for trafficking child porn.
Then my phone dinged and I thought, "Well, here it is. I'm either going to get an understanding person or an offended person" and I was overwhelmed with relief to see a text bouncing back mine as not deliverable because 794 isn't a valid area code.
So that's the story about how your junk is totally normal and I almost went to jail before learning that 794 isn't a working area code.
Before I go, a little advice:
They say you should measure twice and cut once but I'd like to change that to check twice and send once when it comes to pics of any baby dicks.
~ Your Dad
Monday, December 19, 2016
Back to the Future
Hey Archer,
You may or not have been awake when I kissed your forehead and whispered that I loved you this morning. It's back to the future today as I begin traveling again. And even though it won't be heavy travel until the new year it's still the first week that I'm going to have to leave you for what, in the future, could be days at a time. I figured it may be helpful to give you some tips now that you're the man of the house until I get back.
1) Your mom loves to snuggle. Normally I provide a good portion of these. Snuggle liberally in my absence.
2) Kaya likes to pretend you didn't feed her. She will sit down quietly in front of her bowl twenty minutes after eating and give you her saddest "I sure could use a meal" face. Don't be fooled, it's a trick.
3) Your mom loads the dishwasher all sorts of wrong. Thing is, she believes she's the dish loading master. Don't fight her on it, she'll just get mad. Flip them around when she isn't looking and run it.
4) You're going to have to shoulder the Mellow Yellow load while I'm gone. It's one tall boy a day and you should leave the empty in new and exciting places each day. Mom looks like she's angry about it but deep down she knows this is our thing.
5) Let me know if she brings any guys over that aren't Uncle Rattlesnake or Uncle Emu (code names) and tells you they're an uncle or cousin. Excluding Papa Petey and Pop Pop feel free to pummel the privates of any male that comes over while I'm away.
6) Be patient, calming, and a voice of reason whenever possible.
7) Lock doors and turn off lights. Mom forgets sometimes and she's got a lot of mommying to focus on right now.
That's all I can think of right now and my plane is about to take off. I'll see you soon. I love you very much.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Some advice:
Never cry. Or rather, go ahead and cry but blame it on a rogue dust storm and nobody will be the wiser. Works every time.
~ Your Dad
You may or not have been awake when I kissed your forehead and whispered that I loved you this morning. It's back to the future today as I begin traveling again. And even though it won't be heavy travel until the new year it's still the first week that I'm going to have to leave you for what, in the future, could be days at a time. I figured it may be helpful to give you some tips now that you're the man of the house until I get back.
1) Your mom loves to snuggle. Normally I provide a good portion of these. Snuggle liberally in my absence.
2) Kaya likes to pretend you didn't feed her. She will sit down quietly in front of her bowl twenty minutes after eating and give you her saddest "I sure could use a meal" face. Don't be fooled, it's a trick.
3) Your mom loads the dishwasher all sorts of wrong. Thing is, she believes she's the dish loading master. Don't fight her on it, she'll just get mad. Flip them around when she isn't looking and run it.
4) You're going to have to shoulder the Mellow Yellow load while I'm gone. It's one tall boy a day and you should leave the empty in new and exciting places each day. Mom looks like she's angry about it but deep down she knows this is our thing.
5) Let me know if she brings any guys over that aren't Uncle Rattlesnake or Uncle Emu (code names) and tells you they're an uncle or cousin. Excluding Papa Petey and Pop Pop feel free to pummel the privates of any male that comes over while I'm away.
6) Be patient, calming, and a voice of reason whenever possible.
7) Lock doors and turn off lights. Mom forgets sometimes and she's got a lot of mommying to focus on right now.
That's all I can think of right now and my plane is about to take off. I'll see you soon. I love you very much.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Some advice:
Never cry. Or rather, go ahead and cry but blame it on a rogue dust storm and nobody will be the wiser. Works every time.
~ Your Dad
Sunday, December 18, 2016
Reports From The Frontline
Hey Archer,
But back to Howitzer Butt...
You gave us the warning shot and now we know. Your butt can't be trusted. There seems to be only three settings to your butt.
While I still don't feel like a grizzled veteran of this parenting thing I'm going to chalk this one up as an early victory. I feel like I'm almost there.
That's all for now, buddy. But before I go, a word of advice...
Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will. No Doubt, on the other hand, has hardly ever killed anything. Supposedly just a couple roadies.
~ Your Dad
It's been two weeks already. Can you believe it? It's crazy. Things seem to be going smoothly but I have nothing to base this claim on. These two weeks have been both my introduction to and my entire experience with having a baby. Everyone you speak with has their two cents to give. Even those who understand you have to find out what works best for you will follow that sentiment up with some advice. It's cool though, I appreciate advice and am happy to take bits and pieces of those ideas with me as I raise you.
But nobody tells you about Howitzer Butt.
Oh, they'll tell you that you're going to get peed on or that you'll get poop on you. That you'll become oddly cool with it. That it's different when it's your baby. Won't mind it at all. But that's all they tell you. Perhaps they want you to enjoy the same surprise they experienced the first time a poop mortar was randomly fired out of your baby's butt.
It wasn't always like this. You know, going all the way back a couple weeks to the hospital. There you liked to turn the faucet back on while you were getting a change. Faucet number two, that is. Sure, you peed during changing as well, but I was surprised by the ease with which you turned faucet #2 back on. It gave me a fast lesson in diaper change management. I already knew to block the wang (medical term) with something in case you pee, but this was new and important information.
Especially when, days after we got you home, it wasn't a faucet turning back on unexpectedly but a poop shot across the bows of your changing table while mama had you mid-change. The look on her face was priceless. I was walking in to bring wipes or something, maybe just to check in on the process when it happened and her response, involuntarily, was basically this...
But nobody tells you about Howitzer Butt.
Oh, they'll tell you that you're going to get peed on or that you'll get poop on you. That you'll become oddly cool with it. That it's different when it's your baby. Won't mind it at all. But that's all they tell you. Perhaps they want you to enjoy the same surprise they experienced the first time a poop mortar was randomly fired out of your baby's butt.
It wasn't always like this. You know, going all the way back a couple weeks to the hospital. There you liked to turn the faucet back on while you were getting a change. Faucet number two, that is. Sure, you peed during changing as well, but I was surprised by the ease with which you turned faucet #2 back on. It gave me a fast lesson in diaper change management. I already knew to block the wang (medical term) with something in case you pee, but this was new and important information.
Especially when, days after we got you home, it wasn't a faucet turning back on unexpectedly but a poop shot across the bows of your changing table while mama had you mid-change. The look on her face was priceless. I was walking in to bring wipes or something, maybe just to check in on the process when it happened and her response, involuntarily, was basically this...
That's from a hilarious Spiderman knockoff that I urge you to watch right now.
But back to Howitzer Butt...
You gave us the warning shot and now we know. Your butt can't be trusted. There seems to be only three settings to your butt.
- Howitzer Poops
- 50 cal Farts
- R&R
While I still don't feel like a grizzled veteran of this parenting thing I'm going to chalk this one up as an early victory. I feel like I'm almost there.
That's all for now, buddy. But before I go, a word of advice...
Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will. No Doubt, on the other hand, has hardly ever killed anything. Supposedly just a couple roadies.
~ Your Dad
Monday, December 12, 2016
"Natural Induction" Strategies
Hey Archer
With your hospital induced labor a mere week away your mama was quite worried about needing drugs to induce your arrival. I don't blame her. While I'm the first in line to defend pharmaceutical companies or doctors when people blame them for every societal problem even remotely related to medicine, I also understand and appreciate that things can and probably should occur naturally sometimes.
Enter the Poor Man's Guide to Inducing Labor Naturally.
Step 1: Do your internet and anecdotal-based research.
Does the website naturalmoms4change.org tell you that eating pineapple will absolutely induce labor? Take notes, buy pineapple, prepare for a baby.
Have you any friends who swear that they gave birth eleven seconds after eating a chalupa left-handed? Well then, put down that coffee (Coffee's for closers!) and get thee to a taco bell ASAP! Buy a chalupa, free your left hand for the chalupa, aim your crotch somewhere a baby could safely land, eat said chalupa, kiss your brand new baby.
(Pro Tip: Always carry scissors late in pregnancy in case you find yourself in need of cutting the cord at a Taco Bell. Double Pro Tip: Never run with those scissors)
Step 2: Agree with your wife
She probably has many reasons for wanting that baby out of her stomach-house (medical term) and if she decides that the way to induce her labor is by letting her slap you across the face with bologna then smile and make your first midnight bologna run since college. If you've made late night bologna runs since college I'd like to introduce you to Sally Struthers. Do you want to make more money? Sure, we all do. Now go do it and step your game up to some capicola today!
Step 3: Credit whatever happened the moment before birth as what induced labor
Did you burp real loud before your water broke? THAT MUST HAVE BEEN IT!!!
Step 4: Tell everyone that it's the only thing that worked
Be an insufferable know-it-all about the only tried and true technique to induce labor.
~
Speaking of natural induction methods, here are a few things we tried. Spoiler Alert: None of them worked...
Before I go, a little advice...
Life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react, 23% hard to shoulder bullshit, 3% pleasant surprises, 79% work, 31% delicious meats and cheeses, 17% alcohol, and, if you're doing it right, it'll all add up to be 100% amazing.
~ Your Dad
With your hospital induced labor a mere week away your mama was quite worried about needing drugs to induce your arrival. I don't blame her. While I'm the first in line to defend pharmaceutical companies or doctors when people blame them for every societal problem even remotely related to medicine, I also understand and appreciate that things can and probably should occur naturally sometimes.
Enter the Poor Man's Guide to Inducing Labor Naturally.
Step 1: Do your internet and anecdotal-based research.
Does the website naturalmoms4change.org tell you that eating pineapple will absolutely induce labor? Take notes, buy pineapple, prepare for a baby.
Have you any friends who swear that they gave birth eleven seconds after eating a chalupa left-handed? Well then, put down that coffee (Coffee's for closers!) and get thee to a taco bell ASAP! Buy a chalupa, free your left hand for the chalupa, aim your crotch somewhere a baby could safely land, eat said chalupa, kiss your brand new baby.
(Pro Tip: Always carry scissors late in pregnancy in case you find yourself in need of cutting the cord at a Taco Bell. Double Pro Tip: Never run with those scissors)
Step 2: Agree with your wife
She probably has many reasons for wanting that baby out of her stomach-house (medical term) and if she decides that the way to induce her labor is by letting her slap you across the face with bologna then smile and make your first midnight bologna run since college. If you've made late night bologna runs since college I'd like to introduce you to Sally Struthers. Do you want to make more money? Sure, we all do. Now go do it and step your game up to some capicola today!
Did you burp real loud before your water broke? THAT MUST HAVE BEEN IT!!!
Step 4: Tell everyone that it's the only thing that worked
Be an insufferable know-it-all about the only tried and true technique to induce labor.
~
Speaking of natural induction methods, here are a few things we tried. Spoiler Alert: None of them worked...
- Pineapple - We ate the shit out of some pineapple. We chose Costa Rican pineapple because it's delicious and because we traveled there recently and now fancy ourselves pineapple experts. Didn't work but was delicious
- Spicy Food - We ate Mexican food, I added hot sauce and hot paprika to things, and any time I had a chance to bring the heat I did it. Also delicious, and also didn't work. But speaking of bringing the heat...
- Lots of Sex - Turns out that having sex is a great way to induce labor. The theory is, and this is an honest to god thing, you need to have it at least three times because the cervix requires that much sperm. I have no idea how this was "proven" but if you're looking for a job and the ability to afford capicola perhaps you should look into sperm research!
- Raspberry Tea - This one is dumb. Didn't work.
- Acupuncture/Chiropractor/Pressure Points - Are you looking for the most expensive way to not induce labor? Then may I introduce you to constant acupuncture and chiropractor appointments. The hip bone's connected to the, knee bone. The knee bone's connected to the, elbone (medical term). The elbone's connected to the, wallet...
Before I go, a little advice...
Life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react, 23% hard to shoulder bullshit, 3% pleasant surprises, 79% work, 31% delicious meats and cheeses, 17% alcohol, and, if you're doing it right, it'll all add up to be 100% amazing.
~ Your Dad
Sunday, December 11, 2016
All the feelings
Sweet nugget, you have been here for ten days now. I knew I would love you, but I just wasn't prepared for all of the feelings. I am all at once smitten and proud and protective and oh my god, look at those toes! You are easily the most perfect thing I've ever witnessed. Your journey into this side of my belly was no less dramatic than your journey into the womb.
I had a lovely birth plan, a doula, and every confidence that I could and would do this birth thing as naturally as possible. My original plan was to have you at the birth center. Midwives, a big tub to labor in, essential oils diffusing, calming music playing, no drugs. You know, just like I was supposed to get pregnant immediately after your daddy and I got married and usher you into the world 9 months later. Right. I have no idea why I didn't accept from day one that I had zero control over this story.
Lesson in non-attachment: check.
The birthing center wasn't an option. Mama is more mature than your average first time mom. Whatever. Mama is old. I'm 41 (soon to be 42) and this number freaks insurance people out. So, plan B! Are you amused at my plan making yet? So so funny. The partner OB/GYN office for the birthing center was recommended to me, and I thought this would be a good alternative. Surely, they would be on board for all my hippy dippy visions of my birth experience. I went and met my doctor very early in my pregnancy and she was lovely. On board, indeed.
As we approached your due date, sweet doctor suggested we have an induction date, just in case. At my age (so very old), complications are much greater with each passing week, so getting you out by your due date was her goal. Mine was to naturally induce labor before that induction date. I'll spare you the details on that. We know how my track record is with the plans.
(Dad Interruption: See this post for my in-depth analysis of natural induction techniques)
We check into the hospital the evening of the induction date, and buckle in for the ride to come. They're going to apply some medicine to my very stubborn cervix, which hasn't dilated really at all, and that should get things rolling. It does actually cause contractions to start, but after many hours, we discover that it's done actually nothing in the way of labor progression. Step 2: manually dilate the cervix. Again, I will spare you the details. You can google it when you're older, or whatever the equivalent thing will be in your crazy technological future. The basic gist is: ouch ouch ouch! and fine, it worked, somewhat. 3cm dilated and serious contractions and now sweet doctor breaks my water. Which, by the way, is an obscene amount of fluid. Seriously, did you order the Olympic sized swimming womb?
Really serious for real contractions at this point! Sweet doctor is now way done with her 24 hour shift at the hospital. Now her partners will be finishing this job. Strangers (though very kind and clearly capable ones) have entered my very much adjusted birth plan. This is a trend one must become very comfortable with, by the way. The amount of strangers who would ultimately see my ladythangs hit record numbers in just a few short days.
After some serious labor that had me doubting my ability to do this without many drugs, hubby calls the doula in. She was bathed in light and goodness when she entered. I don't know what I'd have done without her. She really did calm me, get me into positions to labor in that helped tremendously, helped me breathe, and made me believe again, that yes, I could indeed do this without pain meds. After a couple of hours, the very nice partner doctor entered the room to see how things were progressing. I HAD to be really dilated by now. Contractions were strong and very close together and if this were a movie, we'd be long into the pushing phase by now.
Instead of announcing that we were ready for pushing, he said something to the nurse I didn't quite get, then calmly but firmly, told me that things would move very quickly now. The cord was in a position of prolapse, which basically means that it was between your sweet head and my stubborn cervix. So, every time I had a contraction, the cord was being pushed toward the opening cervix and squished by your head. It's a good thing that cervix was so stubborn, because it still wasn't open enough to let cord through, which would have been a serious scary emergency. As it was, we had only a mildly scary emergency.
New plan (non-negotiable, I had no say in it): emergency c-section. The bad news? This was not the birth experience I ordered. The good news? All I could really think about was making sure you were ok and getting you into my arms as quickly as possible. I didn't care at all about the plan anymore.
You were staring into my eyes just minutes later. Perfect and alert and loudly announcing your presence into the world. You needed a little help getting your lungs clear, but you're a strong little man and you were brought to me while I was still in recovery, your lungs pumping like a champ and so very hungry. You've been so hungry since, and you are growing and changing already, every single day.
As you lie in your bassinet next to me, I can't help but be overwhelmed with the love I feel for you. I'm so grateful that you're mine. I could not dictate your story, though I sure did try. As you grow and become the man you will be, I'm sure I will fight that same struggle of wanting more of a say in your narrative, more influence in the decisions you make. I will do my best to remember that you have your own story to tell. I will teach you all that I can and try to help you to make good decisions, but in the end, you will be the author of your own life. I'm so excited to watch it unfold. Welcome to the world, Archer. You are so loved.
Love, Mama
I had a lovely birth plan, a doula, and every confidence that I could and would do this birth thing as naturally as possible. My original plan was to have you at the birth center. Midwives, a big tub to labor in, essential oils diffusing, calming music playing, no drugs. You know, just like I was supposed to get pregnant immediately after your daddy and I got married and usher you into the world 9 months later. Right. I have no idea why I didn't accept from day one that I had zero control over this story.
Lesson in non-attachment: check.
The birthing center wasn't an option. Mama is more mature than your average first time mom. Whatever. Mama is old. I'm 41 (soon to be 42) and this number freaks insurance people out. So, plan B! Are you amused at my plan making yet? So so funny. The partner OB/GYN office for the birthing center was recommended to me, and I thought this would be a good alternative. Surely, they would be on board for all my hippy dippy visions of my birth experience. I went and met my doctor very early in my pregnancy and she was lovely. On board, indeed.
As we approached your due date, sweet doctor suggested we have an induction date, just in case. At my age (so very old), complications are much greater with each passing week, so getting you out by your due date was her goal. Mine was to naturally induce labor before that induction date. I'll spare you the details on that. We know how my track record is with the plans.
(Dad Interruption: See this post for my in-depth analysis of natural induction techniques)
We check into the hospital the evening of the induction date, and buckle in for the ride to come. They're going to apply some medicine to my very stubborn cervix, which hasn't dilated really at all, and that should get things rolling. It does actually cause contractions to start, but after many hours, we discover that it's done actually nothing in the way of labor progression. Step 2: manually dilate the cervix. Again, I will spare you the details. You can google it when you're older, or whatever the equivalent thing will be in your crazy technological future. The basic gist is: ouch ouch ouch! and fine, it worked, somewhat. 3cm dilated and serious contractions and now sweet doctor breaks my water. Which, by the way, is an obscene amount of fluid. Seriously, did you order the Olympic sized swimming womb?
Really serious for real contractions at this point! Sweet doctor is now way done with her 24 hour shift at the hospital. Now her partners will be finishing this job. Strangers (though very kind and clearly capable ones) have entered my very much adjusted birth plan. This is a trend one must become very comfortable with, by the way. The amount of strangers who would ultimately see my ladythangs hit record numbers in just a few short days.
After some serious labor that had me doubting my ability to do this without many drugs, hubby calls the doula in. She was bathed in light and goodness when she entered. I don't know what I'd have done without her. She really did calm me, get me into positions to labor in that helped tremendously, helped me breathe, and made me believe again, that yes, I could indeed do this without pain meds. After a couple of hours, the very nice partner doctor entered the room to see how things were progressing. I HAD to be really dilated by now. Contractions were strong and very close together and if this were a movie, we'd be long into the pushing phase by now.
Instead of announcing that we were ready for pushing, he said something to the nurse I didn't quite get, then calmly but firmly, told me that things would move very quickly now. The cord was in a position of prolapse, which basically means that it was between your sweet head and my stubborn cervix. So, every time I had a contraction, the cord was being pushed toward the opening cervix and squished by your head. It's a good thing that cervix was so stubborn, because it still wasn't open enough to let cord through, which would have been a serious scary emergency. As it was, we had only a mildly scary emergency.
New plan (non-negotiable, I had no say in it): emergency c-section. The bad news? This was not the birth experience I ordered. The good news? All I could really think about was making sure you were ok and getting you into my arms as quickly as possible. I didn't care at all about the plan anymore.
You were staring into my eyes just minutes later. Perfect and alert and loudly announcing your presence into the world. You needed a little help getting your lungs clear, but you're a strong little man and you were brought to me while I was still in recovery, your lungs pumping like a champ and so very hungry. You've been so hungry since, and you are growing and changing already, every single day.
As you lie in your bassinet next to me, I can't help but be overwhelmed with the love I feel for you. I'm so grateful that you're mine. I could not dictate your story, though I sure did try. As you grow and become the man you will be, I'm sure I will fight that same struggle of wanting more of a say in your narrative, more influence in the decisions you make. I will do my best to remember that you have your own story to tell. I will teach you all that I can and try to help you to make good decisions, but in the end, you will be the author of your own life. I'm so excited to watch it unfold. Welcome to the world, Archer. You are so loved.
Love, Mama
Thursday, December 1, 2016
YESSSSSSS!!!!
TWO. NOSTRILS.
Welcome to the world, Archer. Posts to follow once the whirlwind dies down.
Welcome to the world, Archer. Posts to follow once the whirlwind dies down.
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