Highs and Lows

For most of this pregnancy, my stomach was so high that my boobs rested on it if I sat slouchily-- which I have been known to do. A couple of weeks ago my stomach suddenly dropped, much to DH's concern. I look much smaller now. But now the tummy is resting on my lap!

I don't remember such a dramatic change happening in my previous pregnancies. Well, they say that each one is unique and each of mine have definitely been different from each other.

One thing that is consistent from the last pregnancy to this one is that my face has grown fat now towards the end. SORRY-- I mean, I have filled out. Don't want to cause angst to any first time pregolas reading this blog (assuming anyone reads it). Don't worry, it's just water (or chocolate) and it'll go away as soon as the baby is born.

Brazil Belly

I weighed myself yesterday. All scales say different things and this was one of those quite unreliable digital ones that give you two different results in a ten second span. However I clocked in between 62 and 63.5 consistently over the time I was using that scale. Which puts me in at about 2.5 kg or 6lbs over where I would like myself to be. On the other hand, we are on vacation and I've been pigging out.

Baby Bumpless: The After-Birth Belly

I should have done a day-by-day photograph of my belly. I'll have to do it next pregnancy. I'm talking now about my post-pregnancy belly. On the day after birth, it sagged like an enormous misplaced boob over where my waistband would have been had I not been clad in a hospital robe. By day 2 it hadn't changed much. On day three, by the time I came home from the hospital, it had regressed significantly. I still had a soft mushy belly, but it looked like the soft mushy belly of a soft mushy person.

Looking at pictures of myself from a day or two after that, I can see that I still looked a bit pregnant. However, within the fist week, I was already able to feel that I had a waist again. It was a very good feeling. I keep putting my hands there because I can't believe it. What a feeling! A waist.

Now, about two and a half weeks after delivery, my stomach is soft and mushy still but it's not so protruding anymore. I probably look like I could stand to lose a few pounds-- and I probably can. I only weighed myself once, and that was within a week of delivery. My stomach was down but my weight was still about twenty pounds more than my pre-pregnancy starting point.

Another thing is that I normally have very prominent hipbones. I wouldn't say that they are prominent now but I can feel them again. I also feel like my thighs and legs are on their way back to being what they were before I gave birth. I still think my butt looks big, but I've learned that a big butt is not necessarily a bad thing. Fashion models may have nearly nonexistent bottoms, but I think a little bit of roundness on a girl is a nice feature. I am normally quite angular.

My face has thinned out. DH observed that women who are about to give birth tend to bulk up around the face. I noticed this in a friend of mine as well who's about 37 weeks right now. She's a thin girl with a tiny bloop of a belly but her face looks swollen. Mine was like that towards the end, but it's thinned out now.

All this is without exercise or any special dieting. In fact, I just finished consuming an ice cream pop. I was all ready to start going shopping and wandering about town after the baby was born but then she got sick with fever at one week and landed in the hospital for three days. Of course, I went with her. We were all but quarrantined in our room. You don't want to wander around a germy children's ward with a newborn. I was totally paranoid about germs that whole time and also totally sedintery. I had DH bring me my yarn and I sat and crocheted the whole time. Ever since then, DH doesn't want me to take her out until she's at least a month and even when he's home, which isn't so often lately, it's hard for me to leave her b/c I'm breastfeeding. Pumping is an option but it's hard to find the opportunity.

Anyway, the point is that my body does seem to want to get back to its normal self. Now if only I could help out by getting some exercise.

I'm Back With A Baby - My Labor and Delivery Story

For those of you who have been waiting with baited breath since my last blog posting, I apologize for nearly two week's delay. I could blame it on new motherhood, but that would be stretching the truth by about three days and I have about twelve days to account for. I have a very good excuse for the last four days which I'll share in another post.

When you last saw me, I was having contractions at home. They started in the morning after I noticed bloody show overnight. They were light and not really painful. DH had an exam in the afternoon and I took at walk and picked up DS from nursery, after which I went out for a falaffel and then stopped by the flower shop on the way home to pick up a thank-you gift for our friends who helped us out when I had that fever the week before. I even ran into them at the top of the street and they didn't notice anything. I didn't say anything.

Contractions started coming harder later in the afternoon. I would have to pause between blogging or cleaning or whatever I was doing, let it pass, and then go on. DS woke up and was climbing all over me. My sister arrived eventually and still I didn't want to go to the hospital, even though I knew (though I wasn't reporting to the waiting parties) that according to the five-minute rule, I should have gone already.

Laboring at home was the best thing I could have done. I wasn't being monitored or checked constantly. Nobody was holding me down or watching me or sticking needles in my arm. Nothing was strapped to me. I found a position or two that was ideal for waiting out contractions (on my hands and knees on the couch with my head on the armrest.) It was all very calm and, though I wouldn't quite call it pleasant, I can say that it was ideal conditions.

The contractions started getting bad and sweetly and without pressure, DH inquired when we would be leaving for the hospital. He was nervous that he'd have to do the job himself. I finally allowed him to convince me to leave the house when my water broke.

And then came the hardest part-- emotionally-- of the whole experience. I had to say goodbye to DS who I was seeing for the last time as an only child. Even thinking about it now is difficult. Fortunately, he had fallen fast asleep and didn't know that I spent more than a few moments lying beside him, stroking his hair, and apologizing. I know, I know, giving him a sibling is the best gift of all etc etc but it was still really tough on me. I knew that things were about to change forever. I'm not so good with change.

We ended up going to a different hospital than I had planned on since it was easier to walk to from our house and we wanted access. It's the same hospital where I gave birth to my son (after torturous procedures and interventions) nearly two years ago. It's not that the staff was bad. It's just that I had a bit of an emergency situation that time and it resulted in a very difficult birth.

I had awful contractions after that, and being in the car was pure torture. It's hard to relax into a contraction when you're strapped in to a bucket seat. Still, I was cautioning DH all the while to drive more carefully. The hospital is only 5 minutes away and though I could feel that the time to start pushing was near, I kept the news from him because he was already really nervous. He parked the car while an attendant helped me into a wheelchair and took a few details from me. I was going to refuse the chair but then I realized I had to get upstairs fast because the baby was on its way. DH arrived and we took off at a madcap down the hallway and up the elevator.

I was greeted at the labor ward by a midwife who made me get on a bed and strapped a monitor across my belly despite my protests. "We have to know how the baby is doing" she said. I hate that. The baby was on its way out one way or the other. In the meantime I was expected to lie obediently in whatever positions they commanded of me? There was no way. Honestly, there are times in life it's okay to not be cooperative. Oh, and then they did that awful thing where they check how dilated you are. I HATE IT. There were only two times I screamed during the entire process, and checking my cervix was one of them. It hurts and also just plain bothers me more than any other thing they do. Apparently I have a very very long canal and they need to dig right in there to get at it. I refused it all through the other checks in my pregnancy. It also bothers me even now-- just thinking about it makes me cringe.

I was four centimetres. FOUR? FOUR? No way I was only four.

When they finally got me into the delivery room, I did what I never intended to do: I climbed up on the bed and lay on my back. And by the way, I was fully dialated. Ten beautiful centimetres. I don't remember them checking me at that point. Maybe they just had a glance and could see... I don't know. Anyway, by that point there was no holding back.

Oh yes, that was after they insisted on replacing my clothes with a hospital gown, which I suppose I should be grateful for in terms of laundry, but I had no interest in at the time. The reason I was on my back is that it's just the position I ended up in and I was in too much pain to change it at that moment. Also, I was comfortable. Also, I knew the baby was on it's way out. I could feel it. It was all very intense.

At some point, and I didn't realize this until later on, the pain turned to tension. Every muscle in my body was coiled up. Whenever the midwife wanted me to change position even a little bit-- shift up, shift down, move my legs, hold my knees, whatever, it's not that I couldn't do it, but it took enormous effort to realign any muscle in my body at all. It's like they were melted in position. Even when DH or the midwife tried shifting me just a little, I protested. The biggest movement I made was some shifting and once I flipped over on my side, which is apparently a preferred position over the supine one. Talking was also really hard. I mostly used hand motions or whispered to DH who then translated to the midwife. The only motion I was happy to consent to was pushing.

This tension had been building with every contraction to the point that I couldn't relax in between contractions. I needed more time than I had. But that was somehow okay. Because like I said, what I was feeling wasn't exactly pain. I wasn't feeling comfortable, but it was way better to be like this than having regular contractions. The only problem was that it was very difficult for me to tell when it was time to push. So I just guessed.

The mood in the room, if I remember correctly, was pretty relaxed. I had chosen what they call the 'natural birthing room,' which is basically called that because it contains a radio, a shower stall, and a hippie-style floor lamp. This is in contrast with the 'natural birthing room' in the hospital I originally inteded to go to, which contained a jacuzzi, a neat-looking purple bed, wood panelling, and who knows what else.
I guess I guessed well, because the midwife kept telling me that things were progressing. I can see the top of the head. I can see the top of the head. It's coming, just a few more pushes... I believed her and also my husband when they said these things, but I was getting really tired. I just wanted to wrap it up for the evening and come back the next day to try some more. I pushed for twice as long in my last birth. I guess that God gives you strength for what you need when you need it.

I had my husband on one side and the midwife on the other (and yest, a monitor on my belly but that stopped bothering me after a little while) And when they kept telling me it was just one or two more pushes away and then I heaved one or two more pushes and it didn't come out, I started to get really tired. But then I decided that I really could be working a little harder-- not that it was any picnic up until that point, but I hadn't given it my abesolute all until then. Not the of medal-winning, baby delivering all that maybe was required.

So I geared up, got ready to give it everything I had, and screamed. The stupid midwife had her fingers in there and was massaging oil around. Now, I know that the midwife is supposed to do that, and it's supposed to help ease the baby out and prevent tearing, but I'll say something here that might shock and appal you: I would prefer the pain of tearing over having her fingers in there. Really and truly. Okay, really and truly as long as it's not a third degree tear. But she could have warned me. Or at least asked me. You don't just stick your fingers up someone's hoo-hoo without warning. I don't care what the circumstances are. I HATE HATE HATE that feeling. It makes me crazy. I screamed for her to stop but she said something about her having to do it so I had DH (DEAR, DEAR Husband) explain to her that I really meant it. Also, all the rubbing and the horrible disturbance it caused me (again, I shudder to think of it) distracted me from the business of birthing. I couldn't push while she was doing that. I couldn't at all. It was very counter productive. I was ready to kick her in the face. But I couldn't move my legs on my own and I don't think she would have happily helped me to do it. If any readers feel the same way about this, I would be happy to know that I'm not alone here.

To give her credit, this is a perfectly normal procedure for midwife to be doing and I'm probably the first person ever ever to tell her to stop. In fact, I was probably the first person in the hospital ever to be uncooperative during labor, so it stands to reason that she was doing what she was doing without any guilty feelings at all. She was actually pretty nice and respectful and definitely knew what she was doing. But at that moment, I hated her.

With that crisis over, I geared up once again for the Big Push. I pushed once, I pushed twice, I though to myself, 'push harder, let's get this over with!' and I gave it another huge push-- then I heard 'stop pushing!' I cant! I couldn't stop pushing remember, my body wasn't entirely in my controll. But it was all okay. A couple of seconds later I heard a cry and saw the midwife pulling the baby out and placing her on my chest.

I didn't have this pleasure with the birth of DS. His cominng-out was a lot more hectic and they took him straight to get weighed and measured and wrapped. I did get to hold him and feed him before they took him off to the nursery, but it wasn't immediate contact.

The first thing I noticed was how huge and heavy she felt, all curled up on my chest. To tell the truth, at that moment I was so weak that I don't think I would have been able to support a cup of coffee with my bare hands but I had a bed underneath me and holding me up so I was able to handle this little baby girl. I put my arm on her. She felt nice. I liked her. I got to hold her that way for a little bit and then they took her to clean and wrap her up. The midwife asked if I wanted to hold her again, but I told her that I didn't think I could.

It was time to deliver the placenta. I said no way. I can not push one more single thing out of me today. Let's do it tomorrow. But the midwife gave a big heave on my stomach (again, I wanted to slap her. Doesn't she know what I've just been through?) and with a few gentle pushes, I was able to get the thing out of me. They spread it out on the cart to get a look at it. It didn't look to me like you could tell anything from it, but what do I know?

At that point, I was shaking so hard I felt like I was riding a lawnmower. I was assured by various personel wandering through my room at that point that it was completely normal and not to worry. So I didn't worry but I did continue to shake. I also asked to be covered with a sheet. Just because I finished giving birth doesn't mean I want to sit around with my legs open for all the world to see. I don't care if they're doctors.

I can't remember if cutting the cord came before or after delivering the placenta. DH wanted to do it but I think he was also a bit weak and couldn't get a good grip on it with the scissors so he declined.

And then came the stitching up. I had a second degree tear. Whatever. It was superficial she said. Whatever. It was over. I consulted my watch. The whole thing, from the time of my arrival at the hospital, had taken under two hours. Under and hour forty-five. The baby had done her part, I had done mine, DH and midwife had done theirs. We had done well. We have a new daughter.

Hospital Bag

I packed my hospital bag last night. I'm not going to carry it around with me everywhere. But at least if I don't leave for the hospital from home I won't have to count on anyone finding me the right stuff and bringing it to me. I made sure to take an excess of underwear. That's what I was missing last time. I must have gone through five pairs-- just in labor!! I had a long labor, though. Counting on a shorter one this time with my 2nd.
I also packed wet wipes because they were really stingy with them in the last hospital I went to. Even today I can't use just one or two wet wipes to clean my son's bum. I mean, it depends on the situation, but one or two just doesn't cut it. I had to buy them from the hospital gift shop last time just to maintain some sanity.
I packed snacks because they don't let you eat past a certain point in labor. But if I'm there for a while I totally plan on sneaking in food while nobody's looking. How people go through long labors without eating is a mystery to me. The nurse even tried to give me an enema last time but I flat-out refused. I know some women told me they wished they'd had one because they couldn't poop afterwords but that wasn't a problem for me and once I heard the words 'turn over', I was pretty darn suspicious about what they were planning on doing. Ech. The thought of it makes my stomach squirm. Ech.
I packed a book. I actually did a lot of reading last time while waiting for my contractions to pick up speed. Also I read a lot afterwords in between feedings and things.
I don't think I packed anything else terribly unusual-- a bottle of water, gum, stuff... I did't pack any stuff for baby because I figure someone will just bring it over for me when I need it. Besides, it's hot. The baby can go home in a diaper in this weather (spoken like a true non-newbie mom...)

Preview

Today I happened to be in the hospital where I intend to give birth, which is different than the hospital where I gave birth in my first pregnancy. The reason I'm switching for my second pregnancy is that I don't think I can face those doctors again... not that they're likely to recognize my face. Just kidding. I've seen them since and they did remember me-- shows you what a model patient I was. Or what a squeaky wheel. I can't believe I just called myself a patient. I wasn't sick, I was giving birth... that's the problem with hospital births in general, I guess.

Anyway, this hospital was, I think, a step above the last one I went to for a couple of reasons. First of all, they have what they call a 'natural birthing room' which, as far as I can tell, basically has a nicer, upgraded bed and a bathroom with a jacuzzi. The decor is also wood paneled instead of hospital-grade sterile, which makes it a little nicer, warmer, a little less... clinical. It's in the same hallway as all the other birthing rooms. I guess they revamped this one as a little experiment in birthing. The only thing is that if you decide that you want to get an epidural, you have to move across the hall to one of the regular birthing rooms. Fair enough.

One of my major problems with the hospital I was at last time is that there was nowhere to be but in my room. There was no sitting or lounge area for moms to entertain their families and friends who came to visit. I had to host people in my little room along with my roommate whose giving birth drew out the entire village to come and bring her cakes, it seems. I ended up sitting with my guests in the hallway waiting area where we could actually sit and talk without the craziness of visiting hour pandemonium. Also, the room I was originally put in was very small. Really, it was only big enough for one bed and a bassinet. We couldn't have had both babies in there at once. I eventually got transferred to a bigger room (remember, I was there for 5 days waiting for my DS to get over vacuum-induced jaundice, which at the end of the day made all the difference and brought me close to the brink of madness.) This bigger room also featured a slightly better window-- it had one, but it looked out over the inner sanctum of the hospital, which is built in a ring. I didn't even have the window-side bed.

This other hospital has a communal dining area so you don't have to eat on your bed and you don't have to hustle to make sure there are no bloody sheets or clothes hanging around for when your husband's friends show up. Also, it makes you feel less like a patient and more like a woman who has just given birth. The rooms are less good-- they're for either two or three people, which is a bit crowded. However, if you're lucky then you'll score a window-side bed with a view AND privacy. The window beds are separated by a wall from the other roommates. It's a good thing I did this tour. Now I know what to ask for if I end up going there. Also, the staff seemed really nice and sweet. They were pretty ok in the last hospital too, and also more professional-looking (which does mean something) but there was one monster, b*&^h nurse on the birthing floor and one like that (who eventually softened up but started out mega super b^%$y) in the recovery area who really got to my pre and postpartum hormonal self a couple of times.

Road Trip

Talk about a speed bump. We (DH, DS and I) took a spontaneous road trip to the desert last week. I don't know if it was the strange and abundant food that we were served at the hotel, or the sudden onset of actual exercise that I suddenly inflicted on my body or the heat or just being away from home, but things changed.

I mean, you expect that your kid's sleeping or eating schedule will be affected by a change in routine, but not until after it's born.

Constipation is a common complaint of pregnant women but in all of my first and so far in my 2nd pregnancy it hasn't been a problem. Frequent and small urination is another symptom but again, it didn't affect me. All of a sudden I was suffering from both these ailments.

Most worrisome was that on about the second afternoon of our trip I noticed that the baby hadn't been kicking-- or hardly at all. This is a VERY kicky baby. Whenever I stop to pay attention, it's doing a little jig. And all of a sudden, all I was feeling was a mellow little yawn from deep in my abdomen. And that's after sitting and waiting to feel some movement.

I didn't worry too much about it. Maybe it was just crowded in there with all the (ahem) excess excrement that wasn't getting excreted. In any case, the day after we got back home, I was totally back to normal. The fetus was doing it's sports routine and I was (ahem) doing mine.

The Best and Worst Times To Shop

The worst time to go grocery shopping, as we all know, is when you're hungry. Hunger can cause you to make decisions that you wouldn't normally make at the supermarket. One solution to this problem, by the way, is to just open up a package of whatever the first thing is that you're craving and eat it right then and there (and of course pay for the package on your way out). Another way to avoid this problem is to carry a shopping list and stick to it. Easier said than done.

Now, the best time to go shopping is just after someone agrees with you when you complain that you've been putting on weight a little too quickly. In this case, it was my obstetrician. When I told him how much weight I gained (about 11 kilo or 23 lbs and I'm in the middle of my second trimester), he gave me a little smile and said "well, you're only supposed to go up about 13 kilos, so you don't have that much more to go." I don't think he meant it in an encouraging way.

I went to the grocery store immediately afterwords and bypassed the huge sale on store-brand canola oil (which was, in fact, on my shopping list) opting instead for the high quality, low retention, omega 3 enriched stuff. I also lingered by and then forewent the incredible sale on the juice I always drink, figuring that I'd be better off with water. But that compulsion only lasted a few more aisles. Then I stocked up. We can't serve ONLY water when we have guests, right?

I told DH about what happened and we talked a bit about BMI and what the numbers really mean. I told him that I'm just getting over the feeling of being fat. I think that my belly has grown a little but my weight remained stable, which has contributed to a somewhat more pleasing distribution of surface area on my body. And I don't REALLY look fat. My face hasn't exploded in roundness. Just a little. The thing about pregnancy is that you just never know. You never can tell what is due to overeating and what is just baby. So we go by the standards and the numbers and, depending on our personalities, we either forgive ourselves or we don't. (I'm of the first school, usually.) Time will tell if the weight gain was a healthy one or not. Or there are also some people whose bodies have a genetic tendency to spread and stay that way after childbirth. We shall see.

In any case, it's about three hours later and I'm sitting here, stuffing my face with marshmallows. I guess the diet was short lived, but at least I bypassed those brownies at the store.

Munchies

Gosh, I'm so hungry lately. I have a love/hate relationship with being predictable in terms of pregnancy. Second semester, which I'm smack in the middle of, is supposed to bring with it an increased appetite. I eat a nice meal and ten minutes later my stomach is growling. I've got that empty feeling...
Gotta be careful. I went for a checkup the other day and she didn't mention anything about excessive weight gain, so maybe I'm not soooo off track. A friend of mine just told me that she gained 50 lbs --FIFTY POUNDS-- during her pregnancy (I'm sure it was 90% boob in her case 'cause she's HUGE) and she lost it all. I gained about 30 in my last and lost it all by 4 months, though my stomach never quite went back to being quite as flat. But I still looked good (if I do say so myself.)

Coffee Break

I'm drinking coffee this morning. Decaf. Since I first became pregnant, I have had almost no desire for coffee. I've taken to drinking tea with milk. Coffee didn't nauseate me or anything like that. In fact, I wanted to want coffee. I like the smell and the taste... I just didn't have the desire to make and drink it. Can't explain it. I've had it a few times but only when we go to a restaurant or out for coffee or something like that.

Aside from the coffee thing, I'm trying to eat more healthy foods lately and less garbage. I don't mean a fat-free or junk-free diet. I just mean that I eat a meal of real foods first and then I'll indulge in a chocolate after instead of gorging myself on chocolate and then filling up whatever leftover space there is with salad. In civilian life (okay, in non prego life) I eat pretty well, but I definitely consume my share of junk food. But when I feel like things are getting out of hand I easily transition to healthy foods. In fact, if someone was to prepare nice, healthy meals for me on a regular basis, I'd be very happy to eat those most of the time. I just hate preparing and then especially cleaning up after cooking. I hate it. I prefer to eat toast and butter on a napkin five times a day.

Butter, by the way, is considered a whole food on my list.