The Half Way Point

So here I am, halfway through the Lenten season and haven't posted one blog post yet. So much for my theory that I'd be posting more often...

When I referred to this "season of dust", I had no idea. No idea what I would be going through, how truly difficult this period would be. I think it's significant that I'm at the halfway point; I feel as though when you're halfway is when you kind of hit the turning point...when you're on a road trip and it feels as though you've been driving forever, you hit that halfway mark and bam! new energy, new motivation...you know that from here on out the trip only gets shorter and you get closer and closer to your end goal.

OK, why the cryptic messages? Maybe because it's weird to say. Scary to say. Makes it a reality if you say it. Postpartum depression. Two words I think every new mom fears, but at the same time feels is a very distant possibility. Unless it's not. Unless it's very near, very real, and very much a part of you right now. Me - the one who always has it altogether, the one who makes things happen, gets things done, sucks it up, deals with it and moves on and is better for it. Except this, this new role, journey, whatever you call it...motherhood. For some reason, it's kicking my butt and I can't seem to get over that "new mommy slump".

There are so many things that are contributing to this, starting from day one in the hospital, I think. First, G had to be suctioned and I didn't even get to hold him for almost an hour, then he wasn't really breastfeeding well, and rather than be supportive, most of the nurses told me I was causing his blood sugar to be low and he would need formula asap. (I HEARD: I am being a bad mom. I am causing my baby harm.) Couple that with the sleep deprivation and adjustment of the first few weeks, and thus started the spiral.

We started getting used to things (kind of); the new life, the new semi-routines, figuring out how to do things like laundry and dinner again...then the three weeks from hell started. Incessant screaming, baby in pain, not knowing what to do. Finally we figured out his allergies and then started the elimination diet. It's not horrible, but constantly having to scrutinize what you're eating, or apologize to others for not being able to eat certain things when they offer to cook...it's wearing. And then every time G would have a really bad day, my first thought was "What did I eat?!" (READ: I just caused my baby more pain. Bad mom award, again).

Then we figured out he really did have GERD on top of the food allergies, and had to start him on medication. Not long after that, he started having more trouble nursing...screaming in pain and not wanting to eat, fussing and spitting up ALL.DAY.LONG. In the midst of all of this my maternity leave ended and after just getting kind of used to baby life, I had to readjust everything again. Then the growth spurt hit and the reflux was worse, he wasn't sleeping, I was a wreck. 

Then my milk supply started to get low and we had to try supplementing, but he could only have very specific (expensive) formulas, and he hated it at first...as in wouldn't eat it. So I'm nervous about starving my child, and feeling bad about having to use formula at all, and causing him more pain and worse reflux...and at that point, I wanted to just say "F*** it!" (OK, I actually did say that, if we're being totally honest here) Then we found a formula that worked and said, OK, this is it. We're just going to switch! So then I'm stopping breastfeeding and my hormones are all screwed up again, and he's doing SO MUCH BETTER on the formula, but everything in me (and so many people around me) are screaming "But breastmilk is best! What are you doing? How is it possible this is better for him??" And the mind struggles wage on...

I realized it was time to seek help when my days at home just seemed to be so overwhelming I didn't know where to start. What do I do with a baby all day? Especially if he's having a bad reflux day and needs constant attention? How do I do this? I would just start crying all day and couldn't stop...there seem to be 500 things that need done and I can't figure out where to start, so I just don't do any of them and then feel even worse for it, and get mad at my son because he's so needy and demanding and I feel so overwhelmed. And I feel like I'm back at square one where we just had a newborn and everything is new and I don't know what the hell I'm doing and wondering why in the world people trust me with this kid.

So back to that halfway point...I'm there. I started seeing a counselor and while it's hard and weird and embarrassing and I feel like I should be able to handle this on my own, or just pray through it, or just talk myself out of it and suck it up, or just whatever...I can't. And I need help. And that's OK. And now that we're at the halfway point, it means we're just getting closer and closer to the end goal. And that's a good, good thing.

Lent

Growing up, we didn't really observe Lent. To be honest, I always thought it was something you did only if you went to a Catholic church. I also knew Mardi Gras had something to do with it as well and was just overall confused and thought it didn't apply to me.

Now, understanding more of the Christian calendar, I am learning to truly value the various seasons that come with that. Jim and I started observing Advent a couple of years ago, and it has added a whole new meaning to the Christmas season. I have always enjoyed the time leading up to Christmas; the lights, the calm, the wrapping of presents and watching of Christmas movies, the food (yum!), etc. But now, when Thanksgiving is over, I don't feel like there's a strange gap in between the 2 holidays...it's like one continual time of celebration and reflection. We move from being grateful into the season of anticipation, of reading of God's plan that has been from before the beginning of time, of waiting for that final point of celebrating the birth of the God-Man. Following this is the season of Epiphany (which we're just learning more about), celebrating the introduction of Christ as that God-Man.

So now, Lent is upon us and somehow, it managed to sneak up on me again this year. I don't know why; it happens at the same time every year - 40 days before Easter, yet still, I managed to realize only the day beforehand that it was again that season. I've wanted to observe the season for the last couple of years, but always realize it too late and then feel like I missed the boat somehow. This year, even though I am again a few days late, I really do want to take the time to observe the season. I think it's an important reminder of the sacrifice that Christ made on our behalf, but more than that, it is a reminder that this life is not about me. My daily struggles, my issues with identity in being a mom, the tiredness I'm facing daily that makes me want to hide under the covers and not come out...they're all a result of a focus on me, and not upward, not on Christ. I think that tangibly observing the season of Lent, feeling the sting, so to speak, of missing something that I am used to, may be a good way to refocus myself and remember that my life - my work, my home, my identity, my worth and value, my mommyhood - all of it is not about me, but about using these parts of my life to point to God and His grace.

So...what to give up? Alcohol?-I could, except I am drinking it to help with milk production and don't think that would be the wisest choice since I kind of need to make milk. TV? I have considered that...it is such an easy thing to get sucked into, especially during this season of American Idol...:) but at the same time, I think it's a way Jim and I sometimes can relax yet connect at the same time, especially when we like a show and can watch together. (plus I really want to watch Downton Abbey and am trying to get him into that...if I wait 40 days, I think it will be a lost cause!)

Facebook? Ouch. Sadly, I think that's what it's going to be. Maybe that sounds petty and stupid...maybe it is. But what I do know is I keep coming back to that. Literally, since I check it about 20x/day. On my phone, on the computer...anytime I have a quick second, I feel like it's the easiest go-to distraction. But that's just it - it's a distraction. Why do I need to be distracted so often? I keep rationalizing with myself though, as it can be used for good things; keeping up with old friends, posting pictures of G so that family can see him, encouragement from others' shared experiences.

But also, (and more often) it is used to fuel things in me that aren't so lovely: jealousy in seeing other people's lives and what's going 'so much better' in their life; Facebook stalking (I admit it, I do it.) that causes me to possibly judge what others are doing in a way I have no business judging them; comparison with other moms-their baby is so much easier, they do more things, they travel, they get more sleep, they look amazing. I think that last one is the worst; I can be having a decent day - even a good day - and then I read how someone's baby did so amazing last night or I see them taking a trip to the beach with their 4 month old, or any other thing that just seems to be better than what I'm doing that day, and all of a sudden I feel like a failure as a mom. These thoughts aren't edifying, and they're not beneficial to me being a good parent to G. I think I need to give myself a break from being able to compare so often, and just focus on us - what our life is like, how we do things as a family, what works for us. I say that so often to friends; "There's no right or wrong way to do it, just figure out what works for you!" but I have such a difficult time listening to my own advice.

So...I'm posting this. Then I'm putting up a link on Facebook, and starting tomorrow (because I like the idea of starting a new week fresh), I am going to be AWOL from Facebook until Easter. If you want to talk to me, there are things like email (alisha.meador@gmail.com), or phone (not posting that on here), or the novel idea of just hanging out. :) I can send pictures via email, and I can still blog. In fact, I have a hypothesis that I'll actually blog more without the Facebook as a distraction. We'll see if that holds true...and I'm excited to see what else I learn through this time, this season of dust.

This probably means I'm going to check Facebook about 200x today as I'll go through a slight period of mourning, but hey, grief comes in all forms. So, to everyone who has a birthday coming up: Happy Birthday! Hope your day is awesome. To everyone posting pictures of your kids: they are adorable. Seriously, how do you live with the cuteness? To all my friends that I'll hang out with: pretend I just tagged you in my status, so you know how important you are to me, and how cool I think you are.

Here goes nothing!

Baby Steps

I realized I haven't blogged much lately and wanted to remedy that. But...I really couldn't think of anything specific to blog about. My mind's been a bit full the past couple weeks trying to get used to being back at work and getting re-used to being at home on the days I don't work, and then there was the whole thing with G spitting up blood, an almost trip to the ER, tests at the doctor's office...you know, the usual. Thankfully he seems to be doing better (mini version: seems he may have GERD and it was irritating his esophagus so much that it was causing small tears and bleeding. We're working to get it under control now).

Pause: baby is waking from a nap. We'll continue in a bit...

And....we're ack. Typing with one hand while nursing. Thus why I just wrote "ack". We're actually back; we may be ack too, I'm just not entirely sure what that is. Since I still don't have anything specific to write about, we'll just do a lovely list of randomness. I have no idea where this is going to go.

-I've noticed that my hardwood floor doesn't get cleaned nearly as much as it should. How do I know this, you may ask? By the lovely little white spots I find at random intervals throughout our house. While I would love to claim that I was feeling festive and just wanted to create the illusion of a snow shower in this very mild winter, it's actually milk. Breast milk to be exact. So don't judge me if you come over - and try not to be grossed out. In fact, just grab a baby wipe and clean it up for me if you would; you won't have to look at it anymore and my floor will be a bit more clean. It's a win-win for us both.

-What one considers a "good night's sleep" now is quite comical. G woke up the other night around 11:30 (which was a bit annoying as I went to bed at 10:30 - par-tay animal that I am), then didn't wake up again till close to 4 am. As I put him back in bed I prayed (literally, I was praying) "Lord, please please please just let him sleep til after 7. If I can sleep til 7 I will be thrilled." Lo and behold, the alarm goes off and he's still sound asleep. So I laid in bed until 7:20. *shock*awe*gasp* Jim told me as he left "Make sure you get some rest today!" My response? "Why? I had a GREAT night's sleep!" 

-This has been the strangest winter I think I have ever experienced. We might get snow tonight, and if we do, it will be the first actual accumulation all winter long. Honestly, I am so thankful; I thrive on being outdoors and have been able to get out with G a lot since he was born. When I was younger, I wondered if I had SAD, because I swear I need more vitamin D than the average human. Or maybe I just wanted one of these, because they're kind of awesome. Either way, I think this weather is God's way of making sure I didn't sink into a seriously deep postpartum depression (because I am quite sure the warm weather is just for that reason. Why wouldn't it revolve around me?)

Pause: baby is yet again waking from a nap.

-I have a random urge to run. Maybe it's from being home so much more than I used to be, or because I feel like my back is always sore from lifting/carrying/nursing a 13 lb. infant and the use of other muscles would feel good...I really don't know. But I do know I keep wanting to run. I actually did it the other night; only about a mile, but still...it's a start. Who knows, maybe I'll try it again one of these days. Or, more probable: I will sit on my sofa eating dairy/soy free chocolate chips and drinking a beer (it helps with milk production. and...it tastes good.) while watching shows like American Idol, The Voice and Smash, as I did this evening. At least I have yoga pants on.

-Speaking of singing...I sing random songs about poop. And bedtime, and spit up, and going to the doctor and Lord only knows what else. Basically anything that happens during the day, I quite possibly will turn into a song to entertain G. Not only is this sad because words like "You've got the poops like G does" should never be uttered to the tune of "Moves Like Jagger", but also because my singing voice is awful and will probably do more harm than good. I can just see G waking up with nightmares later in life of some crazy lady singing horrible songs to him as a form of torture. However, if that does happen, I will kindly remind him of the sleep deprivation he put me through, and blame the bad voice on the fact that my eardrums were damaged from his screaming. Then we'll call it even. That's a healthy parent-child relationship if I ever saw one.

-I am pretending this is one long fluid blog post, but in actuality, it's taken me about a week to write this. I had most of it done and then life happened and I never came back to it. I'm glad I don't do this for a living, because I'd  be broke. Except, I would kind of enjoy doing this for a living, so maybe I should work on my commitment level. It's not like I have anything else to do, right? But, because it has taken me so long to finish, you are the lucky winner of getting to read the next little paragraph below. I know, I know. You don't have to thank me.

-Pumping.is.awkward. Especially when you have to travel out of town for work, as I did last week. Watch this video; the last clip? That was me in the bathroom of the regional Workforce Center. C-l-a-s-s-y. But not so nearly as classy as having to pump in the parking lot of large employer partner that we work with. I was sitting out in the middle of nowhere, at the back of the parking lot, with my nursing cover on, the pump doing its thing while I perused Facebook on my phone, cows in the pasture next door...then I ever so discreetly put my milk in a cooler and walked in to a business meeting with one of their senior managers. All in a day's work.

-I'm out of things to write at the moment. Partly because I'm 'distracted' by Facebook (according to Jim, that is. In reality, I'm just taking a little break, as any time on Facebook is really just that. Silly boys, don't they know that? ) But mainly because it's after 10 pm and this equates to what would have been me staying out all night pre-baby. So, I bid you adieu. Let's hope I make it back here again before the end of February. Baby steps people, baby steps.

Ebb and Flow

Well folks, this is it. The last day I'm strictly a stay-at-home mom. Sometimes the time seemed to go so slowly, other times much too quickly. It seems like a lifetime ago that I actually gave birth, and the fact that G is already 3 months old astounds me; now that the time is here though, it seems to have crept up on me rather suddenly-even though I've known it was coming.

I'm nervous. Nervous about getting back into "work" mode, having daily issues and problems to deal with that I would rather not have to worry about, about somehow functioning for an 8 hour work day even if I only have a few hours of precious sleep, about getting out the door on time, about G doing OK at daycare, about having enough milk for him (and about pumping at work-awkward  much?), about him taking a bottle and not wanting to nurse, about having the energy to care for him when I come home, about balancing work and family, about getting too focused on work and not leaving it at the office (as is my tendency)...there are so many, many things.

I'm excited too. Excited about being able to have adult conversations throughout the day, to talk business and policy and be involved with projects and new ideas, to be able to help teach our employees so they can in turn teach others, to see lives changed and get a big smile on my face when I hear of a client's success or a funny story. I am so incredibly blessed to have known what I wanted to do since I was a young child, and to be able to do that now. We have an awesome company and I wholeheartedly believe in what we do (if you don't know, I'm a director at a supported employment agency-we assist individuals with disabilities in work skills, finding a job and on the job training/long term supports). I'm also so very blessed to be able to keep the job I have, yet do it in a little less time...so I'm at home 2 full days/week with no work!

Really, I think I'm getting the best of both worlds-the working mom and the stay-at-home mom all rolled into one. I think it's just finding that right balance. Knowing that when I'm at work, I focus on work and give it my all, and when I'm at home, I don't think about work, and focus on my family and caring for them. It's another transition, but not a bad one, I'm realizing. The past three months have been continual transition, so, really, what's one more? Even while staying at home during this time, I've realized that it's kind of an ebb and flow, the mommy life. Some days we stay home, do house things, wear sweatpants and relax. Other days we're on the go, running errands, visiting friends, going for walks. Some days are a good combination of the two - and some days we're just plain exhausted and waiting for daddy to get home so mommy can take a nap.

At first, I hated the 'inconsistency'. I'm used to knowing how I want my day to go, having a list, getting it done, and being able to plan things and always get there when I need to. Motherhood was a big slap in the face for me and my type-A ways. You have plans at 10? Sure...but the baby just had a blowout diaper, is hungry for the 3rd time, you haven't showered, and it's already 9:30. Good luck with that one. (thankfully, as he gets older and I'm getting more used to his semi-routines, those times are much fewer! aka, mommy learned how to plan better and not try to squeeze in 20 things in a day) I falsely assumed I would be able to do all my normal day to day things and take care of the baby - because he'll be chill and just sit or sleep, right? Right? Oh...

But as time has gone on, with a lot of prayer and some lessons in "Hey you, you're not superwoman. Deal with it" I've learned (most of the time) to enjoy the different days. The great ones are such a joy; the bad ones make me appreciate the great ones all the more. Busy days with friends and errands make the days at home a welcome respite; a time to relax, catch our breath and just be (even if that 'being' involves screaming at times). G's food intolerance issues have been a blessing even, as now that we're getting mostly past those, with a few slip-ups here and there, we appreciate so much the baby we have. He's happy, he's social, he loves his mommy and daddy and even when he's screaming now, in comparison, it is so, SO much better. And he's caused us to slow down-most evenings are spent at home, and that is nice. Family time, just us. Not always running here, going there. There is a time for that, and I would say at least once a week we both get out with friends (usually individually), but having those nights at home together is wonderful.

So, I think work will just add to that ebb and flow, a wonderful mix of busy and slow, work and home, going and staying.  I'm so thankful that my job enables me to expose my son to a beautiful mix of people. I want him to know that everyone has different abilities, and that everyone can work in some capacity, using the abilities God has uniquely gifted them with. And if my work can play a part in teaching him that, then off to work I go!

Graham Hembry-A Birth Story: Part 2

OK...where were we? Ah yes-on the way to the hospital!

When we arrived, we were still required to check in, make a payment, etc. even though I had pre-registered. At this point, I was still able to breathe through the contractions while sitting there, calmly answering the check-in lady's questions and giving them my life's savings. When we were sufficiently broke, we rode the elevator up to the birth center floor. I was asked if I wanted a wheelchair, and me being the tough woman I am, said "Nope! I'm fine!" Once at the birth center, they took their sweet time in getting me checked in, weighed, in the room (which wasn't a delivery room, just one to monitor before officially checking someone in), etc. All this time, the contractions were increasing in intensity and I was regretting my "tough" moment and wanting to just sit down in between to rest! Once in the room, I was hooked up to the monitors and left for about 20 minute intervals to monitor my contractions. They were having trouble tracking G's heartbeat, so I had to lie there for over an hour, some on my side, some on my back, all the while the contractions were getting worse. If you've never experienced contractions, let me tell you, lying down is not the best way to experience them.

I was only dilated to a 3 when I arrived; the nurse checked me again after that first hour and a half, I was still only a 3, so they advised me to walk. Walk I did...mom, Jim and I walked all around the floor for about 45 minutes; I was having to stop and breathe through the contractions whenever they came, holding on to the railings on the wall and Jim rubbing my back. I'm sure we provided entertainment for the people in the waiting room. That, or frightened them, I'm not really sure which. I was already to the point where I kept wanting to sit on the toilet because it felt better and relieved some of the pressure; I couldn't fathom how much worse this would get. When we got back to the room, they hooked me up to the monitors again and re-checked me; I was STILL only a 3! (silent curse words inserted here) That discouraged me a lot, as the contractions were pretty really painful already. I kept telling Jim "I don't want to do this, I don't know how!" and he kept saying "You are doing it! You're doing it." (sometimes he actually said "You don't have a choice". Thanks honey.) Thank God for him-I don't know how I would have managed, seriously.

Knowing I wanted a natural birth, they gave me the option to go home and labor instead of staying there, which we decided to do, so as not be pressured by anyone regarding drugs/medicines, etc. I asked the nurse how I would know when to come back and she very nicely said "When the contractions are so bad you can't walk. They're going to get much, much worse." Lovely. We arrived home around 8:30 pm and I tried lying in bed with Pride and Prejudice on the computer; Jim and mom and Carol (our friend and faux-doula as I like to call her) taking turns rubbing my back. This worked for a while and I was able to rest a bit, but soon the contractions were too strong and I did not want to lie still. I jumped off the bed and was doubling over in pain walking around, then decided to get in the shower. At this point it gets a little fuzzy...I was in the shower/bath for the majority of the next 2 hours. Jim tried to get me to eat a little, but I wasn't able to swallow much except a few grapes and a couple crackers. Mom poured me a glass of wine to help me relax a little bit, and I went back and forth between sitting on the birthing ball or toilet and having my back rubbed, to being in the shower.

I labored differently depending on who was helping me at the time, which I find funny now. With mom, I just wanted her to help me breathe - no talking, no rubbing the back, just breathe please. Carol would just talk to me like normal and I was able to focus on conversation and not as much on the contractions (somewhat). Jim would talk to me about things we had done/things we had planned, so as to keep my mind off the pain...things we would do with our baby. Throughout all of this, I kept saying "I don't care anymore, I just want drugs! It hurts too much!" And Jim would calmly remind me "No, you don't. You'd have a worse time with them than without them." (again-thanks honey, although I'm sure I was silently cursing you).

In the shower, I started...moaning? chanting?...I don't know what you would call it, but it felt good to make some noise and have it reverberate off the shower walls - this helped immensely when a contraction came on. At some point, I realized they were getting extremely strong, and I would feel my body wanting to push. I told mom this and they called the hospital, who informed them that since it was my first baby, it was highly unlikely I'd progressed that quickly, and just to take "comfort measures" (I think this was sometime shortly after 11 pm). Let us note, dear hospital staff: there is nothing "comfortable" about labor. I would advise you to rephrase next time. I tried to just focus and breathe through them, but they continued to intensify and I couldn't stop the pushing (not that I needed to-your body knows what it's doing!) Carol had gone home to check on her kids; she came back over and helped time the contractions...when she realized they were lasting 2-3 minutes each and with little to no break in between (maybe 30 seconds) we (more they-a car ride did not exactly sound pleasant) decided it was time to go to the hospital. Mom called to let them know we were on our way. I did NOT want to get out of the shower; Jim had to coax me out in between contractions, then threw some clothes on me and got me in the car. We left around midnight on November 8th.

That car ride was the most miserable experience I have ever had. Sorry, but while birth was a beautiful, natural thing, it was painful like nothing I've ever experienced. For days afterwards I kept thinking "I don't EVER want to do that again!" I think part of it may have been made worse by my fear that I wasn't progressing; I was thinking, "If I'm only a 5 or 6 and already feeling like I have to push, I can't do this!" I told mom and Jim that on the way to the hospital; if I wasn't progressing, we were seriously going to consider something to take the edge off (even though I honestly didn't want this, but the pain was just too intense). Mom helped me breathe through each contraction in the car, and as soon as we pulled up they got a wheelchair and wheeled me in. Jim laughs at this part, because it was the exact opposite of when we checked in earlier. This time, I was semi crying/moaning, sopping wet, eye makeup from that morning running, trying to breathe, in a wheelchair...the woman just looked at me and said "go on up, we already called ahead!"

I was taken straight to a delivery room, and the nurse had to get me hooked up to a monitor, which I was fighting like crazy, because I did NOT want to sit still again. I had about 3 contractions while this was going on and told her I needed to push; she wouldn't let me until I was hooked up. Another came soon thereafter, and I said "I really need to push!" and to my surprise (and relief!) she said "OK, go ahead!" She checked me while I was pushing, and I heard Jim ask how much I was dilated. Her response? "She's pretty much fully dilated" - and she could see his head! I can't even tell you how excited I was to hear that! I went from being sent home to him almost crowning in around 3 1/2 hours. Pushing was HARD-I kept wanting to make noise/yell when pushing and they kept telling me to hold my breath...I'm sure it was quite comical, but it's really difficult to keep quite when you're in pain! I finally got it down after a bit. Not long after starting to push, he was close enough to crowning that they called the doctor in. I don't have a concept of time at this point, but about halfway through pushing my water broke, which felt wonderfully relieving. While all of this was going on, they were also trying to get an IV in me as I was Group B positive and needed antibiotics, but I was dehydrated and the needle kept popping out - once so badly that it actually flew onto the floor. (I only know this because Jim told me; I had no idea this was going on)

Jim, mom and Carol kept telling me they could see his head, which gave me the motivation to push harder and keep going. His head finally came out after around 35-40 minutes (I think) of pushing. When his head came out, the cord was wrapped around his neck too tightly to pull over his head, so the doctor had to cut it right away. Another couple of pushes and he was out, at 1:53 am on November 8th. I remember Carol saying "Open your eyes!" (I'd had them closed the entire time); I did - and there was my son! It was the most surreal experience; I can't really describe it. Also, I had almost immediate relief once he was out, which was a bonus. He had merconium in utero (his first poop) so they took him immediately and suctioned him. I didn't know it then, but the neo-natal team was in there, as merconium can cause an infection...Jim said it was a bit scary. I delivered the placenta and had to have some stitches; all the while they were still working on him. After about 40 minutes, he was a bit wheezy and they were concerned he had some respiratory issues; they were about to call the neo-natal team back in when one nurse (bless her!) said "Why don't we just put him on mom and see what happens?" They put him on my chest and he immediately started breathing normally. That was probably the sweetest moment of my life, to feel my child and know that what he needed was to be with his mama. Looking back, had I known he wasn't in any real danger, I would have insisted he be put on me immediately (as we planned) but thinking he was in danger, I let them do what I thought needed to be done. Thankfully he is a healthy boy, although I do sometimes wonder if his tendency to spit up (when not caused by allergies) is worse because of the suctioning. But, if that's all that happened, I'll take it!

Once I was cleaned up and ready to go, they wheeled us into our room, and we haven't slept since. ;)

Graham Hembry-A Birth Story: Part 1

*Disclaimer* - I do not plan to put every small detail of my labor/delivery in here, as I know there are some things one probably does not want me to share (reference: 'Up All Night': the Birth episode. If you haven't watched it, do. It's hilarious, especially if you have kids. Side note: that now includes me, and that's a weird thought.) However, I will put some details in, as discreetly as possible. I just wanted to prep anyone who may not do well with medical-type things before you read any further! Also, this is just my recollection of everything that happened. I can not claim that I was completely coherent all the time.

We'll start with November 1st, my due date. I started my maternity leave on this date, not knowing if I'd have a baby yet or not. I'd had periodic contractions here and there, but just pre-labor type; nothing to write home about. I had a doctor's appt. that day and was only dilated to about 1, which is where I was the week prior. It was a bit discouraging, but I kept reminding myself that God had this planned before the beginning of time, so Graham would come exactly when he was supposed to. That was difficult though, as my mom was coming into town the next day, and I wanted her to have time with him as well. That night, since it was officially our last night just the two of us, we used a gift certificate generously given to us by small group, and went out to Mangia for a dinner date. The waiter seemed a bit surprised when he asked my due date and I said "today!", but thankfully, there were no large "water" spills or anything to clean up-just some really yummy food that I very happily polished off.

Mom came the next day, and, looking back, it was really nice to have a few days with her here just us-we were able to get things done around the house, spend time together shopping and talking and just being mom and daughter. We won't get that time back and it is precious to me. On Friday, November 4th, I felt a little different and seemed to have to pee every 2 minutes. I wasn't sure if this was possibly amniotic fluid leaking or if he was just getting more into position, so we stopped at the doctor's office and after an hour were able to see the nurse practitioner. I thankfully was not leaking any fluid, but also hadn't progressed much from earlier in the week. Cue me saying "OK, seriously? I want to do this all-naturally but if this goes past next Wednesday, we're going to have to talk." After church on Sunday the 6th, we decided to go for a walk on Blackwater Creek Trail. I was having some more contractions and feeling a lot more pressure, which I took as a good sign. I also couldn't bend over to tie my shoes; we have some great pictures of that. Oh-and another side note, if you think port-a-potties are gross normally, try using one when you're 41 weeks pregnant. I digress...

That night, we went to bed after watching "The Next Iron Chef", as was our Sunday tradition (yay Geoffrey Zakarian!) and I slept very very well, better than I had in a while. (ha! as I just read that line I laughed to myself - sleep?!) I deem this providential, as I awoke Monday morning at 6 am with a contraction. At first, I didn't realize what was going on; I was in the middle of a dream and in the dream something had happened that scared me or made me think I was in trouble, so I thought that I was woken because of that. I then realized that it was slightly painful (not much) and started timing them. I laid in bed for the next hour timing the contractions, which were around 10 minutes apart on average. Around 7, I got out of bed, made some coffee and had a wonderful time spent reading my Bible and praying, excited and nervous for the day ahead! When mom and Jim got up, I let them know I was having contractions and we continued to time them using the app on my iPod. Jim made a big breakfast for us (bacon and eggs) and then we all got ready to run some errands.

Oh-I forgot to mention, this was the first day of Jim's two week leave from work as well. How amazing is God's timing, as Jim had to start the leave this day regardless because of some trainings going on, so he was able to have the FULL two weeks with Graham!

Anyway...back to Monday. As we were getting ready, Jim suggested maybe I should go to the chiropractor again to make sure everything was in line and ready to go for labor. I had already gone two other times in the past couple weeks, but decided if they could fit me in, why not? I called around 11:30 and they had an opening at noon, so we all got in the car and headed over. This is where I answer the inevitable questions: Yes, I went to the chiropractor all throughout my pregnancy. Yes, it's safe. Yes, we take Graham to the chiropractor now. I'm a firm believer in sickness prevention, and probably should have a bumper sticker that says "I <3 my chiropractor".

Following that appointment, we went to Target because I wanted to get a hooded towel for Graham (I was obsessed with these things, and HAD to have one before he was born in my hormone-induced state of crazy). While there, I noticed my contractions getting a little stronger. This, combined with being hungry made me a bit grouchy. Jim and I were snippy with each other for a few minutes, until, when I literally asked my mom to walk away so we could talk (read: I wanted to argue uninterrupted), we realized we were being ridiculous. We all decided food was very much needed, so went to Moe's for lunch. Me, quite reluctantly as I'm a Chipotle girl and they are not the same. However, they have changed their menu and it wasn't that bad, I have to admit. While there, we were still timing contractions, and they were between 8-10 minutes apart, slightly more uncomfortable. Following lunch, we dropped mom off to visit a friend and Jim and I ran to the mall, because in his pregnancy hormone-induced craziness (wait...?) he had to get a pair of "nice" sweatpants for the hospital. I was feeling tired, so stayed in the car while he ran inside. While in the car, I noted that they were getting closer together-around 7 minutes apart. Jim came back out and I let him know this; we went ahead and picked up mom, then stopped at Kroger. In that amount of time, they progressed to around 5 minutes apart; when we left Kroger after 15 minutes or so, I was very slowly waddling up the parking lot and they were between 4-5 minutes apart.

We got home and I ate some toast to have something in my stomach, as I knew at the hospital they wouldn't let me eat (I also threw some fruit into my purse to sneak into the delivery room), sat on the birthing ball to stretch my hips and kept timing...they remained at 3-4 minutes for over an hour and were increasing in intensity, so we decided to go to the hospital. At this point I could still talk through the contractions, but had to stop and breathe a bit for each one before moving on; it was around 4:30 pm on November 7th.

Mother Knows Best

*disclaimer*: I will start this by saying, mother only knows best through the grace of God and depending on His wisdom...never will I ever be able to say that I just know best in and of myself. My poor child would be utterly screwed up if I rely on my own self and my own 'wisdom'. *end disclaimer*

That being said, I do think God has given women - mothers - an innate sense of what their baby needs. I'm learning this more and more as the weeks go on. At first, I felt like I had no idea what I was doing. And, most days, I still feel that way; but, I have noticed that I do have a sort of 6th sense about what is bothering him...and when I listen to that, more often than not, it's right! Sometimes it's not...I may be rocking and singing and swaddling trying to get him to nap, and he's sitting there wailing thinking to himself "C'mon lady. I am sitting in my own poop here-can we please just get it together?!" We're working on that. But I am starting to see his patterns and learn when he needs to nap, when he needs to eat (this is MOST days mind you-not every day...that would be wishful thinking).

Along this little path of thinking, I started to do some research. G has been having a rough (read: what I could imagine parts of hell feel like/make me want to go insane) three weeks or so. Reflux/GI/colic...whatever you wanted to call it, it was not pleasant. We took him to the doctor around his 1 month check up and the nurse practitioner prescribed Zantac. We tried it. He hated it. We flavored it with grape. Still hated it. Also, didn't help at all from what we could tell. He got a rash, we stopped the Zantac, the rash cleared up. Hmm...I started thinking, maybe I know my baby a little better than I thought. Fast forward 2 weeks or so...he's getting worse, we go back to the doctor. Again, we see the nurse practitioner (note: very nice woman, not a huge fan in comparison with his actual pediatrician, who kind of rocks), who says, well...sounds colicky, I know it's hard, get a babysitter when you can and try a little rice cereal mixed with your milk. That's it??! I wanted to scream at that point-my baby is in pain, I know he is in pain, and that's all you can tell me? Thanks. However, we said, sure, we'll give it a try. Day 1: didn't take any. Day 2: took some, spit up/screamed just as badly as before. Day 3: forgot to give him the cereal and really didn't care. Day 4: thought about the cereal, and decided against it.

In the meantime...I'm researching. I'm looking online, checking ideas with our lactation consultant, trying to figure out what is wrong. I don't buy 'colic' as just something that babies have so much...I think there's a reason. I think that reason is different for each baby and may or may not be something one can figure out...but there is a reason they're in pain. I had a hunch it may be dairy, and found a lot of support for that, so cut out dairy, and limited my soy. He had a better day-not great, but better. I ate goat's milk and sheep's milk cheese that night (because I had read and heard that some babies can have that instead)...the next day was the worst day he's ever had. As in, he sounded like an 85 year old with smoker's cough that night from crying so much, it was a-w-f-u-l. More research=60% or so of babies with a milk allergy also have an allergy to goat and sheep milk. OOPS. Next day, had an amazing day-only spit up once (vs. oh...about 25 times a day minimum-and painful spit ups, not just regular spit ups). He spit up after I had eaten a turkey sandwich for lunch. Turkey lunch meat, I found, has casein in it-the protein in milk. So, maybe it's not just dairy, but actually casein. Noted. Next day, I drank coffee with soy milk...he projectile spit-up 3 times. Seeing a pattern here...

I'm sure that was way too detailed and boring for anyone reading this; I'm more writing it to document it for myself. I'm keeping a food diary and seeing a pattern-anytime I have eaten something with casein or soy, he tends to spit up or have belly pains afterwards. When I don't, he seems to be a different baby. He was actually awake and happy at the same time multiple times this weekend-what a joy that was!! Since Thursday (the terrible, horrible no-good very bad day from hell), he's spit up a total of 5 times I think (today is Monday). He's also started sleeping longer at night! He's sleeping from around 8 pm-3:30 or 4 am, then back to bed until at least 7:30. I may be going out on a limb here...but I'm saying they're connected.

As a mama, this gives you (aka me) so much more confidence. Relying on the grace God gives and the wisdom He imparts, I do know what's best for my baby. Jim is also feeling this, and together we decided to keep going with this no casein/no soy thing to see if it works-and because we're in the middle of it, are delaying his 2 month immunizations he was supposed to have tomorrow. Our doctor already does an adjusted vaccine schedule (she runs a local Autism center), but I was nervous they wouldn't let us/want us to delay his shots. I called today and explained that we were trying to figure this out and would like to postpone his shots so we can keep better track of what's affecting his system, and to my surprise, they said "Sure! not a problem-just remind us when you get here." That was easy.

Slowly, but surely, we're learning each other, me and G. Although today...someone did not want to nap at all this morning. (I'll let you guess who-one of us would have loved a nap!) I, for the first time, let him cry it out for a bit, went in and calmed him down and he went right to sleep. Success! 45 minutes later he woke up and wouldn't go back to sleep (he usually sleeps longer if he hasn't napped)-singing, swaddling, shhhing...nothing was working. Finally...I check that darn diaper. No poop, but he probably felt like he was sitting in a baby pool of pee. Like I said, we're working on that.