Second Trimester Begins, Sleepiness Continues.

This pregnancy has been way crazier than my last two. I am so worn out by the end of the day-- no matter what my day consisted of-- that I'm fast asleep by 9pm. Then I wrench myself out of my son's bed around 10, shuffle to my bed, put my head on the cool pillow 'just for a few minutes' before opening my eyes at 11 or so when I finally give up my idea of folding the laundry. I change into my PJs and officially go to sleep.
I'm already into the second trimester! I'm worried that this pregnancy is going to be worse than my last one during which I was exhausted for the entire period. I don't know if I ever saw midnight.
I shouldn't complain. My nausea is all but gone. I still don't have much of an appetite for things I used to crave, but at least I am not having to deal with the constant feeling of having to throw up. I did have a third barf in the first semester that I didn't write about -- probably because I was sleeping. But that was over 3 weeks ago and I have felt better ever since.

Having Another?

Is it rude to comment on how close --or far, for that matter-- people's children are spaced? I have definitely done it, but I think it has to be in the right context like, for instance, amongst friends. For example, I know people who have had or are having a hard time getting pregnant. But I guess the question there would be why they are waiting so long to have kids and not why they are spread out. I know that when people comment on how close my kids are (twenty-one months is not THAT close), they often do it with sympathy. Like, 'wow, that must be tough.' I guess it's tough. Certainly, I have almost no personal time, which accounts for how often I get to blog lately.
There have been times when I asked someone about the spacing of their children and wished I could have taken it back. Sometimes it's better not to know.

With Regards To Labor and Delivery

I just wanted to add something or, rather, emphasize something with regards to my labor and delivery story from a few days ago. Laboring at home for as long as possible was the best thing I ever did.
Right up until the moment I got in the car to go to the hospital, I was folding laundry, packing a hospital bag for my DH, playing with my son, checking my e-mail, blogging, and watching videos online that my sister was trying to entertain me with. It was not a panicked, clinical experience with people standing over me and monitoring me. It was almost enjoyable-- except for the pain. I was able to get into whatever positions I wanted to get through contractions. I could move around at will from room to room. I could eat and drink, and I did, knowing that I wouldn't be able to until after I had the baby and then only at the next hospital mealtime.
Maybe I was only able to do this because my contractions did not get really bad until the very end, but I have no point of comparison since I didn't go into labor naturally last time so I don't know what it's like otherwise.
Maybe I said all this already. But it makes me so happy to think about it.

Fit To All Appearances

Looking good at two and a half weeks postpartum. At least, that's what people are telling me. I went to drop off DS at nursery yesterday morning after going through my closet to figure out what I could now fit into. I think it's good to start phasing out my maternity clothes so that I have a real sense of where I am in terms of getting back to myself. Last time, I allowed myself six weeks to wear maternity clothes and then I put them all away and made myself face my closet.

Anyway, the skirt I wore yesterday was one I was able to wear through my pregnancy although it is just a regular stretchy denim skirt. The shirt is a very simple cotton t-shirt that I don't normally wear at all because it's so shapeless that I usually get lost in it. But now thanks to breastfeeding and my recent pregnancy, I'm a little more curvaceous and so I fit into it nicely.

The teachers and parents who haven't seen me since I gave birth were making all kinds of comments about how good I looked and how they look more pregnant than me.... I kept denying that I'd 'returned to my old body' because I know what lies beneath the facade of clothing.

The truth is, I'm fine with how I am right now. I'm not crazy: I just gave birth under three weeks ago. I don't expect to look like a runway model quite yet. I was somewhat surprised and pleased to find out how little I care about what others think about how I look. What really matters, as they say, is what's inside. In this case, I'll say what matters is what's inside my own head. You have to know in life to take things that other people say with a grain of salt. When it comes to the shape of my body, I guess the other opinion that matters besides my own is my husband's. So I'l keep it in the family.

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.

Baby Names Part 2 (I think)

Considering that I'm feeling contractions, I should probably be doing something other than blogging and twitting... like making arrangements for my son for the weekend. But here I am. Thinking about baby names some more. I had one in mind. I grew to like it. I began thinking of the baby in those terms, with that name. Then we consulted with someone about it and what they said made DH nix it. Like I said before, I'm giving him more control over this name since I had so much influence over the last. But he keeps insisting on these junk food names. In fact, the one he's set on is #1 NUMBER ONE in the list of baby names locally. It's a nice name, yes, and it's got some nice connotations to it, but gosh... I really don't want my kid to have a name equivalent to the Jessica or a Stephanie of my generation. Nothing personal against any particular Jessicas or Stephanies. Or Jennifers. It's just that today those names sound kitchy and dated. I did find out that the name he wants is actually biblical in origin, which makes me feel a little better-- and the person whose name it was in the bible is someone who I could live with. So althogh DH has a higher bid here, I don't think I'll submit my veto quite yet.

Baby Names - How Tos and What Not to Dos and Some Suggestions

I can't believe I have not written on of baby names yet. The name of this baby has been a hot topic during this pregnancy. The following is my philosophy on how to name a child. Or at least the rudiments of my philosophy on how to name a child.

I am opposed to choosing a name based on if it's 'cute' or 'pretty'. That's what I call a junk-food name: a moment at the lips, a lifetime on the kid. I need a name to be meaningful to me-- in addition to sounding nice. My DS is named after my grandfather and DH's grandfather. Both very special people. There is someone I wouldn't mind naming this baby after but DH doesn't like the name and I told him he could have more of a say over this kid's name because I had so much influence over the last one. I still have to LIKE the name for this kid, and it still has to be meaningful to me, but I won't pressure him into something only I like.

The problem is that all the names he likes-- well, most of them, are -- as I mentioned above-- junk food names. Think of all the 30-year-olds you know today called Stephanie and Jennifer and Jessica. Think of all the 15 year-olds called Brittney. I feel like parents called their kids these names because they were hot or cute at the time. Like Mary or Doreen or Sharleen or Doris or Carol were in their time. Matilda. Some old names are coming back now-- Bella, Ella stuff like that. Personally, All these names are fine, but they shouldn't be chosen on the basis of whether they're popular today. What's popular today becomes dated very fast. It's also unimaginative to use a name just because everyone else is.

Biblical and other classic names are usually a good standby. Jacob, for instance, is always a good, solid name, although it's also a very popular one. Has been in the top ten for centuries. Then again, boys names, at least those ones at the top of the charts, usually lean towards the more conservative. Then you get things like Aiden and Haydn and Kaydn, Baydn, Ethan, Tyler, Hunter, Dylan, Jaydn -- I'm seeing them a lot on baby name charts but do they really mean anything to the parents choosing them? I hope so. I might be mistaken. I don't want to alienate little Haydn's parents just because the name is not meaningful to ME. I mean, Haydn may be a lot more meaningful to those parents than, say, Michael or Nathan, which are both of the classic and/or biblical variety. But my point is that I am against choosing names for my own children unless they are based on something that I can connect to. Anything else is empty calories. Nice at the moment but later on has the chance of becoming just extra weight.

Now, what does 'meaningful' actually mean? As I mentioned, my DS is named after people who are dear to us. There's no need to explain why that is meaningful. I know another couple who named their baby a name that means 'tranquil'. That's because they're both frazzled people and they wanted the opposite for their son. Some people name their kid after an event or a place that they would like to remember-- like if the parents met in Denver or Georgia. These are just some examples. I've seen families with theme names. Like namig all the kids names that start or end with the same sound or names that rhyme or all the kids are named after different birds or places. This can get tacky, but it doesn't have to be. If all my kids had 'nature' names, I wouldn't mind. It's what we're into, and both my husband and I have 'nature' names already, though DS doesn't. In short, a meaningful name has some thought behind it besides just 'does this sound nice with our last name.' The source and depth of the meaning can vary.

Names that DH has been choosing ring, to my ears, as junk-food names. I told him that instead of just reading through lists of names to see what he likes, he should start with an idea that he likes and work from there. For instance, he loves the sea. He loves music. There are plenty of names that would resonate with those ideas.

Well, we're still working on this but we're going to have to move fast. Baby is upside-down and getting ready to make an appearance sometime soon.

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.

Baby Bump Part II

I've mentioned before how much I hate the term 'baby bump'. It makes pregnancy sound like some kind of fashion trend. And indeed, it has been that, at least amongst celebrities, for the past year or two-- or so it seems. I don't even own a television and I've noticed that the latest must-have items can be found in the maternity section. We all know what happens when a celebrity popularizes something. There are people who will go right out and try to get the same thing for themselves. Now, when it comes to copying designer fashions, those who can get their hands on it will do so and those who won't will buy fakes... whatever. No harm done. But when it comes to getting a baby bump, the only way to do it is by getting a baby inside of you, and that's when things start to get complicated. I'm willing to bet that there will be some neglected Anglelas and Heidis and Jennifers walking around in a couple of years.

Baby bump is so demeaning. You can feel 'cute' when you're pregnant, and you can feel 'beautiful' or you can feel just the opposite. Women don't need the pressure of the Hollywood industry to define how they should act, feel, and dress at this very sensitive point in their lives. Learning to accept the changes to your body and life are hard enough without the intrusion of Vogue expectations.