Postpartum Recovery & Complications

You can read about my recovery from Bella's birth here. 


General Postpartum Stuff
I only had a first degree tear this time which required a couple stitches. I say "only" because - hi, there was a 9+ lb baby that flew out my hoo-ha. Then again, a woman is apparently less likely to tear during subsequent births. And I shall now be done saying tear. [Shudder] Anyway, it all healed up a lot faster this time and things seemed normal-ish in the lady bits region by just a few days postpartum, which was so not the case last time. I remember being horribly afraid for the 6 week check-up because of the cervix check (or whatever it is they check at that appointment). I'm not worried this time. The pad-requiring bleeding tapered off within a week following the birth and since then it's been quite light if present at all. At this point I still have some days where I bleed a little (seems activity dependent), but most days it's at the point where I debate the need to wear a pantyliner. Lots more uterine cramping this time with breastfeeding during the first week, but that is normal. I took ibuprofen for it for several days and that did the trick. One thing that drove me crazy in those initial postpartum days was that the nausea & heartburn took about 3 days to go away. I felt so mad lying in my hospital bed and staring at the food menu and wanting exactly nothing on it. But my appetite has since returned and I haven't vomited in four whole weeks. WOO HOO!

For the rest of this post I'm going to issue a little disclaimer for those who are about to give birth and/or are currently in the middle of a hypnosis childbirth course. The complications that Oliver and I faced are not the norm and I don't want to be scaring anyone. So if you are sensitive to thinking "That could happen to me!" or if you are currently in the middle of HypnoBirthing or HypnoBabies - I'd say you can just skip this post all together. Keep it happy, yo!

The Hemorrhage & Subsequent Anemia
So I knew that a hemorrhage was a good possibility with Oliver's delivery since I had one (or a near-hemorrhage) with Bella. This was the number one reason why we went to the hospital early. Yes, delivering on the highway would be bad, but delivering on the highway and then hemorrhaging away from the hospital? Very, very bad. The bleeding began after I delivered the placenta, just like last time. This time the bleeding wasn't as emergent and there wasn't the sense of urgency to find the source of the bleed and stop it, but it was still quite concerning to the midwives and nurses.

The nurses thump hard on your stomach to contract your uterus and help it to stop bleeding after you give birth - they call it "uterine massage". Massage...HA!  Every time they "massaged me" (read: pummeled my stomach), I was passing huge clots and lots of blood.  Not such a big deal the first couple times, but when it kept happening again and again and again, well, then it was a problem. I was laying on one of those chucks absorbent pads and I had to lift my bum up using my legs bridge-style so they could change it. I remember feeling all strong and happy about how it was no problem-o the first couple times: I was totally strong enough to do that even right after birth! Hooray! I was going to be one of those mamas who can go run a mile the day after delivery! But by time 15? Yeah, weak city. I could barely lift myself. As the blood drained from me I could literally feel my energy and strength going with it. I was so bummed. I had hoped that it wouldn't happen again.

I got hooked up to IV pitocin (I guess I prefer my drugs after my drug-free birth?) and they put that cytotec stuff up my rectum again, but the latter was far less painful and bothersome this time than last time. Both of these drugs were used to encourage uterine cramping. The nurses continued to do a lot of super aggressive uterine massaging. My abs ended up quite bruised and it took three weeks to stop feeling sore.  I was also encouraged to empty my bladder like crazy as that also helps. Initially my body was feeling freaked out and I had trouble peeing, but eventually I was able to go. Thank god for that because it would have been catheter time, otherwise.

In the end, my hemoglobin dropped from my usual 13-something to 8-something. I was offered a transfusion, but decided to go with trying to get it up naturally through iron pills. I question this decision now, but whatever. Neither option was especially exciting.

There is no clear reason for why I hemorrhage with childbirth and apparently it's fairly unusual - I've seen stats around 5% of women. I googled to see if a c-section would prevent it should I get pregnant again, but nope - safest route is a med-free birth. And herein lies my biggest frustration with the hemorrhaging/anemia. I plan for and prepare myself for these med-free births and then I feel somewhat robbed of my post-birth high given how terrible lousy the hemorrhage makes me feel. Now, OF COURSE I am glad that in the end everything works out fine and it's great that I get the birth I wanted, but still. I wish I could have experienced that sweet and pleasant postpartum feeling for more than 2 minutes.

At four weeks postpartum, I'm feeling much better. I can walk a few blocks without thinking I'm going to faint and I can go up and down the stairs without huffing and puffing. I do feel like I'm behind where I should be in my recovery, not to mention that I feel like I've lost my normal muscle strength from not doing much activity, but it is what it is. Someday I'll get back to my normal level of activity and I hope this means I'll always appreciate being physically able to move without problems!

Should I get pregnant again, I fully expect I would hemorrhage again. Next time I would probably take the transfusion and ideally I would see if my mom and/or dad could donate blood for me ahead of time (both are O-type like me), so that I could use that. But the fact that I've hemorrhaged twice puts a big question mark in my mind about whether a third pregnancy would be a safe thing. Something to consider, for sure.

Oliver's Complications

Big Baby=Blood Sugar Issues
Did you know this? I had no idea that a bigger baby born to a mom without gestational diabetes would be at high risk for hypoglycemia (low blood sugar). It does makes sense when you think about it - the baby gets used to a steady amount of glucose via the placenta and then upon birth they get a lower amount via the colostrum. The first time they tested Oliver's blood sugar, he was just one point below normal. They protocol is to supplement with formula with any abnormal lab value. Since my colostrum was flowing and Oliver was already breastfeeding beautifully we asked to wait and let me feed him some more and just see what the next test was. The nurse (not the nice one who helped with the delivery) was all hem-haw, I don't know, I have to check with the pediatrician, but eventually they let us wait but with a lot of drama. The next test showed that Oliver  was slightly above the lowest acceptable level. Yay! However, then the next one after that he was down several points and that was after I had just fed him extra colostrum that I had expressed. Ugh. There simply wasn't enough glucose in my colostrum to support his big old baby body.

After talking it over with Husband (and my pediatrician Aunt and doctor Mom), we decided to proceed with supplementing formula to get his blood sugar up to normal, as it can be very dangerous to let it drop too low in newborns. My issue with supplementing was mostly messing up the gut flora (there are theories about breastfeeding's immune protection not being as great once you change gut flora with formula). Besides, it seemed really weird to supplement when my colostrum was abundant and he was breastfeeding just fine. However, I didn't see any other option since there wasn't a breastfeeding friend I could call to say - hey, can you bring some milk in? (Of course, upon looking it up on some breastfeeding websites, they were all  - there is no instance you would need to use formula in the case of low blood sugar. Oh boy. OF COURSE, things would have to be so polarized on this issue. Of course.) Once we supplemented we could see a clear difference in how Oliver was behaving - he was seemed more alert and was able to latch on and breastfeed even better. Supplementing with formula was the right decision.

This blood sugar checking went on through the day and night, before each feeding. This involved a heel stick. If the level was low they had to fill a small VIAL with blood by squeezing out drops from his foot in order to send it to the lab. This is absolute torture to witness and it sometimes took 15-20 minutes to get enough blood.  After his 7th or 8th heel stick and several vials of blood, they gave us the option to skip the tests if we agreed to supplement him after each feeding until my milk came in. After another debate of "What to do?" we opted to supplement each time and protect our poor boy's feet from getting poked again. We continued supplementing until Oliver was two days old and once my milk came in he didn't need it anymore. It has had zero effect on his ability to breastfeed.

Rh Incompatibility and Subsequent Jaundice in Oliver
Rh Incompatibility is a little complex, so if you want a detailed explanation go here. I'm going to give you the simplistic explanation. So I'm blood type O- and Husband is A+, which means that my body might recognize a baby with a positive Rh factor (Rh factor is the - or + part) as a foreign thing that needs to be attacked. This is not a problem with first babies, but can be very dangerous for the second baby. So I got Rhogam shots while pregnant with Bella and after delivering, and the same thing happened with Oliver (they are both A+). Now somehow something went wrong - either the Rhogam shots weren't strong enough or some other factor was at play, but my blood mixed with Oliver's either in utero or at birth and he developed something called hemolytic disease. Basically, my antibobodies got into his blood stream and saw his positive Rh factor as something to be attacked. This meant some of his red blood cells were destroyed, which leads to excess bilirubin and the jaundice. A secondary factor for his jaundice was all the bruising on his face from the fast birth.

In reading about hemolytic disease since his birth, I realize that we were lucky that Oliver simply developed jaundice and nothing horrible happened, like stillbirth. There was briefly talk of him needing a transfusion (what's with us and transfusions?!), but in the end that wasn't necessary. To treat the jaundice he needed to be exposed to a phototherapy light ("bili-bed") for as many hours a day as possible.

Oliver's bilibed set up in the co-sleeper

I was really glad we could do the bili-bed at home, but, man, it was not fun. The only thing you want to do is hold your newborn, but the treatment has you putting the baby on the bili-bed pretty much anytime you aren't changing or feeding him. It didn't really feel natural and made us feel disconnected. Plus, he didn't sleep so well on it. But it worked and 5 or 6 days later he was off the bed. One thing that helped was that my milk can in and he was drinking & pooping like crazy (the excess bilirubin is removed in stool).

I need to find out more information, but I believe this Rh incompatibility will get even more dangerous with subsequent pregnancies. And this is major reason #2 why I'm not sure that we should have any more babies. I don't know if the risk is worth it. Certainly I would have a lot of anxiety during that pregnancy knowing the potential for miscarriage and stillbirth.

Thrush
And now that brings us to our current problem: thrush.  Not exactly a postpartum issue, but the anemia and my compromised immune system likely played a role. You can kind of see why the thrush was the straw that broke the camel's back for me in terms of being able to manage and deal with things. I'm feeling quite a bit better, but I still have some pain and Oliver still has signs of thrush in his mouth. I need to make calls tomorrow to ask for another type of treatment. I could go on for 12 years about why this thrush is so hard and give you details on how time consuming it is and how conflicting all the information can be, but that's boring. I'm having a really hard time with dealing with it right now - I don't just feel like I'm in over my head, I feel like I'm 20 leagues under the sea. Not sure if it's just because it's legitimately overwhelming, especially with a toddler, or if I'm going through some baby blues stuff. Both probably? I do know I can't wait for the day when I can stop all these extra treatment steps & precautions.


In the end, nothing that bad happened. We have a healthy baby and a (close-to) healthy mama. There was no NICU time. We were still able to leave the hospital 28 hours after arriving. We were able to do many of our treatments at home and had the luxury of home health nurse visits. I have had a ton of family help. I'm really grateful for those things and I try to remind myself of them every time I find myself feeling like everything is so hard (which is approx every 30 minutes these days). So even though things weren't - and aren't - exactly smooth sailing in the postpartum period, we're OK. The important stuff is all OK. I just need to write that on my arm to help me keep perspective...

Deserving

This morning, while the cleaners scrubbed the toilet and mopped the floor around me, while I waited for my grocery delivery, while I kissed Bella goodbye as I sent her to spend the day with my in-laws, I didn't feel sweet relief. I felt gross.

I struggle with accepting help as I start to feel better. During those first two weeks postpartum I was able to justify letting my mom or mother-in-law do pretty much everything household related and the majority of things Bella-related. I was simply too weak to do it myself and had to save energy for the baby and for maintaining some of Bella's routines (like bedtime or a meal). But now that I'm half back to normal and probably technically able to do most stuff, I go back and forth on all these short-cuts I'm taking and the help I'm asking for/receiving from family. I feel especially guilty about making my mother-in-law do a bunch for me right now.

But on the other hand, my in-laws are only here another week and a half and I know my mother-in-law enjoys soaking up all the time she can with Bella. And grocery delivery is only $7 more and WOW is that a sanity saver to avoid a car trip with two kids right now. Finally, a clean house calms me and Husband was the one who suggested weekly cleanings for a few weeks while we adjust.

So why do I still feel like such a princess-y asshole?

And then, while I was bent over changing Oliver's poopy diaper, he suddenly projectile pooped ON MY FACE. Poop. On my face. It was hot, people. As I straightened up in shock, with poo dripping off my cheek onto my dress, my perspective suddenly shifted.

I totally deserve being pampered today.

An Instagram Day in the Life

Today was my first full day on my own. I was honestly scared shitless and certain I would break down in tears multiple times. Between my physical probs (anemia/thrushy boobage/whatnot) and my lack of confidence in the stay-at-home-mama-of-two gig, it just seemed completely daunting. How was I going to make it until 5 pm? What would happen if Oliver needed me to bounce him up and down a ton when I don't have the stamina for that, not to mention it hurts my boobs like crazy. How was I going to deal with the complex feeding/diaper change/giving-thrush-meds situation while also paying attention to Bella? HOOOOOOOOOOOW?

Well, I did it. I DID IT! I'm kind of ridiculously proud of myself. Sure there were kids shows on Netflix that I used as a crutch for 20-30 minutes here and there, but I still made it out alive and tear-free. HALLELUJAH! It certainly helps that I'm feeling better today and breastfeeding is only mildly painful. And when I remember that my energy is only half there and should improve in the next three weeks, I get kind of excited. Dudes, I think I'll feel manic by the time this anemia is resolved.

I also happened to download Instagram on my iPhone this morning and I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship. LOVE IT. So here's our insta-day in the life.

Morning Stroll

When Bella saw me put on a skirt (one of my skirts from last summer and thus it created a lovely sausage-casing-like appearance around my mid-section), she insisted that she wear her tutu, too. All skirts are currently tutus. We also brought her Halloween bucket for the important task of rock collecting. It took us about 50 minutes to go around two blocks.

Lunchtime

We like to be prepared.

Post Bath Nursing During Bella's Naptime

This was one of the first moments where I really felt like we were bonding because all was quiet and it was just us and he kept making eye contact. Aw, shucks.

Juggling Two

Bella wanted to read a book. Oliver wanted to be jiggled to sleep. Ergo: sitting on the stairs with Bella next to me and Oliver on my lap.

Art on the Deck

I wanted to get us outside again after Bella's nap to help burn off her endless toddler energy, but it wasn't going to work with Oliver's feeding schedule (right now I have to be home for feedings because of all the handwashing & medications). So I pulled her easel onto the deck and it kept her happy for a bit. Art on the deck is diaper-optional, obvs.

Oh, Thank God, Daddy's Home

A walk to the neighborhood grocery store followed by a stop at Chipotle for dinner. Gorgeous summer evening.

Dinner on the Deck

 

 I gave Bella some strawberry Kefir after dinner and raved about what a special dessert she was getting ("strawberry yogurt milkshake!") and she totally bought it. HAha (Nelson voice). SUCKA!

Le Papillon

I have been watching this butterfly for the past couple days - he likes to land on our deck railing. Ever since that Biggest Loser contestant who lost her family in a tragic accident told the story of those two butterflies following her during a challenge - and she strongly felt those two butterflies were the spirits of her children - I have been extra enchanted by butterflies. I don't know if I believe in that stuff, but there was something so exceptional in that woman's story. It brings tears to my eyes even now. Anyway, butterflies are just so charming. Except when they are caterpillars. Then they are gross.

Baby Bruzzah

Baby Bruzzah got pee on his head during a diaper change so we rinsed him off in the sink. Husband gave him a rockin' comb-over. And look - baby smiles! He started those last week.

That's all. Now 3 oz of wine and bed. No dessert because I'm on a no-added sugar/limited dairy diet to reduce thrush levels, which means SUPER SAD TIMES ON THE MOTHERSHIP.  Unexpectedly accelerated postpartum weight loss, here I come!

Why Thrush is Great: A Top Five List

So I was going to try to explain to all of you why this thrush situation is so awful and terrible and reminiscent of the Great Bed Bug Incident of 2006 with it's need for CONSTANT DILIGENCE IN THE FIGHT AGAINST EVIL, but it was way too Debbie Downer even for ME and I am pretty much the queen of glass half empty when I'm feeling sickly. So let's turn that yeasty frown upside down and talk about the upsides of thrush, shall we?

A Top 5 List of Why Thrush is Grrrrrrrrrreat!

by yours truly

5. Each time I say or think of the word "Thrush" my mind cues up the song "Rush, Rush" by our girl, Paula Abdul. What a mental treat to re-live that magical melody again and again and again as I deal with this! Hurry, hurry lover come to me!!


4. Since I need to air out my nipples as much as possible, it's like Husband has his own personal Playboy Bunny walking around all day. HUUUUUUGE boobs! Always exposed! With bonus glossy-looking ointment-covered nipples! HOORAY! Sure, this Playboy Bunny has a tendency to start crying at any given moment, but BOOBS! OK, fine. Am more like a sickly and need-to-be-burned Velveteen Rabbit than Playboy Bunny, but still: BOOBS!

3. The extreme pain of Oliver latching on during feedings has me making really marvelous breathy, gaspy, moany, groany noises. It's practically orgasmic! Just like how my birth experience was practically orgasmic with all the roaring! So, again, Husband is one lucky man because he gets to hear all those noises in the middle of the night times 3 when trying to sleep. Hope your first day at the new job went well, honey!

4. Every time I catch a whiff of vinegar as I apply it to my nipples (yes! a real thing I am supposed to do!) or add it to my laundry, I think of those happy memories of dying Easter Eggs with the family. Well, I think of all the years except the Easter of '89 because that was the year that I found the bottle of prune juice in the fridge ("What's this new fun juice?" the naive 9-year-old mused...) We dyed the eggs after I had slugged two big glasses and video footage from that year indicates that there was a lot inner turmoil going on in the digestive tract. Of course, this was before prunes went all Hollywood and became dried plums. Wait, where was I? Oh, yeah: THRUSH means using vinegar which means happy memories! Tra-la-la!

5. The chance to talk about one's personal yeast issues in such detail is a once in a lifetime opportunity that I've dreamed of for many years, but the timing never seemed right until now. Consider it checked off the bucket list!

In conclusion: YAY, Thrush!

PS - For those in-the-know about thrush issues, here's where we are at: Oliver is getting Nystatin multiple times a day after feedings (and he's showing a lot of improvement), I'm putting a homemade version of APNO nipple cream on after feedings as recommended by the nurse hotline lady and I also just started a 2 week course of Diflucan because I got the yeasty beasty all in mah boobs pretty bad at this point, not just on the nipples. Also doing all the hippie dippie things and other pre-cautionary measures. If things don't clear up I'm going to do the Genetian Violet and true APNO cream (and I realize that APNO cream = ATM machine, but it felt all loosey goosey ending on APNO). Thanks for all the suggestions/sympathy on the last post!

Thrush Hell

So I'm actually in the depths of despair over here, dealing with the hell that is thrush. Any sympathizers out there? Oh - and get this fun fact! - the thrush was likely related to me being anemic. Kick me when I'm down, why don't you? Anyway, to summarize why it's hellacious: breastfeeding feels akin to putting nipples in a meat grinder and there are now about 20 additional steps to add to each feeding/changing cycle (OCD-levels of handwashing required each time you do something in addition to applying medication to baby bruzzah's mouth and my nipples). Also bonus fun - I'm supposed to cut out dairy/sugar/wheat/wine - anything that gives me joy these days.  HAHAHAHAHA. And bonus, bonus fun - many of the foods I'm supposed to eat to aid in anemia recovery (OJ w/iron pills or iron-fortified cereals) are now on the "to be avoided" list to reduce yeast levels.  And how can I forget this? It's best if I leave my nipples flapping in the wind at all times. I'm a 36-G right now. G as in gigantic. G as in gargantuan. G as in GADZOOKS. A 36-G person whose boobs are in a ton of pain does not want to go braless, in case you couldn't figure that out. Misery, that is my current name. (And, yes, this means that the I-only-cried-one-time! claim is out the window. I cried maybe 8 times yesterday?)

Oliver's Birth Story: Active Labor & Delivery (Part 2)

If you missed part one of Oliver's Birth Story, find it here.

8:00 AM - After a short and slightly awkward walk down the hall from the observation room (thank you, open-backed hospital gown), we arrive at the labor & delivery room we were assigned. ZOMG, our room is awesome. We got the penthouse suite! This is the L&D room they show people on tour because it's so fabulous and spacious. Gorgeous view, too. I kind of check out the room like I'm arriving at a hotel or something. As I look around I feel struck by the sight of a bag of newborn diapers hanging from a warming table. Isn't that a bit presumptuous? Or unnecessary this early in the game? I mean, it's like they think I'm going to need those for a baby sometime soon.  Oh wait... Denial, my friends. It can be a powerful thing.
Husband: The room was gorgeous, it had a view of Minnehaha Creek and it's HUGE.  I set all the bags in a corner and lay everything out so I can grab what we need at a moment's notice.  Laura is thirsty so I get her some coconut water.  I drink some Gatorade (that Laura packed for me), which makes my breath smell weird, more on that later...We make every effort to get the room to feel right.  We cover the clock (a big distraction for Laura during Bella's birth) with a plant and a towel and turn off all the lights and open the shades to let the morning light in.  

8:05 AM - We settle into the room. Husband plugs in the iPod player per my bossy instructions and he starts up my Hypnobabies tracks. I change into the same short gray cotton nightgown I wore for Bella's birth.

I am still having regular contractions and they are starting to ramp up and happen more frequently (around 5 minutes apart), but in between them I am fairly normal. In the picture below I am telling Angela, the doula, a funny, but pretty gross anecdote I heard way back when about bags of vomit being thrown by eating disorder patients from their 8th floor windows. They would land on the roof that was parallel to the 5th floor windows and those 5th floor patients would (rightly) complain. Now all the windows on all floors are locked.

8:15 AM - Now that we are in our final destination, so to speak, and settled in, I relax and give my body the message, "OK, it's showtime." I have felt myself holding back on letting my body just run with labor. I don't know if this is a false perception or if I really was able to control my labor like that. Regardless, once I mentally say "GO!", my body obeys with flying colors. I begin to find the contractions more and more challenging. I mention again that, "Ugh, I just don't want to do this today." I try to pay attention to my Hypnobabies hypnosis track, but I'm feeling a little distracted. I am wishing I felt less self-conscious as I find myself wanting to interact normally in between contractions.  No, not wanting, it was like I felt I needed to interact normally and be social, like it was the polite thing to do. I don't know why I was feeling that need, certainly no one was putting pressure on me to do so. Perhaps it had something to do with the early morning and bright sunshine. I think to myself that this will get easier when I'm further along and to the point where being self-conscious flies out the window. Right now it's still (relatively) early in the process so I'm not in the zone yet.
Husband: I continue to get settled in and am just kind of looking around at all of our stuff as well as thinking about what kinds of things we'll need once we get further along.  The iPod player is all set up. I ask for a couple of bins of ice water so I can have the cold cloths ready in the event that is helpful again for this birth. 

8:25 AM - The nurse asks if I want the birthing ball and I decide to give it a try. However, once the ball arrives, I have no interest in sitting on it, which is how I felt during Bella's birth, too. I do try standing next to the bed and leaning over it on the bed, but the whole set up seems overly fussy. Angela rubs my back softly during contractions and I remember wanting firmer pressure, but don't say anything because I'm so focused on the contraction. I continue to manage the contractions with lots of deep, but fairly quiet moaning and the weirdo fish lips thing. I can hear the Hypnobabies tracks in the background, but I'm not especially in tune to it nor am I actively using Hypnobabies techniques. It simply doesn't occur to me to do that.   
Husband: Laura seems to doing amazingly well.  Whereas last time, at this point, she was staring off in between contractions and didn't really seem accessible, this time she is relatively social in between.  She mentions that she's not really feeling like she's getting in to the zone and doesn't feel able to completely relax and focus on the suggestions, etc.  I turn the volume up to see if that helps.

8:35 AM - I'm starting to feel really steamrolled by these contractions. They are maybe a few minutes apart at this time, but holy hell are they intense. It's feeling like not only am I running a marathon today, I'm being forced to sprint. I have the sensation that my body is running away from me and I can't catch up. This is going too fast. I feel like I could so easily flip a switch and go from managing these contractions to panicking. And even though I don't think I'll go there, I don't like how close that panic point is at. I ask for the midwife to come back and check my progress, because I want a sense of where I am at.  Certainly this could have backfired on me (and it goes against Hypnobabies recommendations), but I felt I was laboring quickly and I wanted some confirmation on that. I continue to moan quietly through the contractions as we wait for the midwife. I choose to stand and lean over the bed (sans birthing ball) as it seems the most comfortable position. I rock my hips side to side during contractions, too. I know that the yoga instructors at my prenatal studio would be cheering me on for having such "juicy hips."
Husband: I massage Laura's lower back and put pressure on it as well.  This seems to help.  Her hip movement seems to be helping her through the early part of the contractions before she basically collapses on the bed and focuses on staying loose and relaxed while moaning.  The doula is really good about helping her to remember to keep her shoulders down and relaxed and I'm relieved not to have to take that role, as I really just want to be her champion and keep telling her how well she is doing and make sure she doesn't need anything.

8:45 AM - The midwife arrives and I am now at 6 cm dilated. So I am progressing relatively quickly. We discuss our birth plan and the midwife shares that she understands that it is her role to simply stand back for the most part and let me do my thing since we are using hypnosis techniques. I am impressed by her saying that. I mention that I'm really feeling these contractions and I might want to get in the tub (it's a regular, though deep, bathtub). The midwife suggests that I might want to hold off on that for a while as it could slow down labor. I have a couple more contractions, each stronger than the last. Ugh. I would love to take a break from being me in this laboring body.

8:50 AM - I suddenly find myself asking, "Is it too late to get an epidural?" Whaaaaaaaaat? Cue the sound of breaks screeching. Everyone in the room: Husband, the nurse, the midwife, and my doula, slowly turns and looks at me. My question doesn't just surprise me, but it seems to surprise everyone else, too. I swear the room is quiet and we all stare at each other for a beat or two. Of all possibilities for this birth (such as the need for a c-section if medically indicated), this is one I didn't consider. I guess I never thought I would ask for an epidural, especially since I never asked the first time around with Bella. I get some gentle questioning from everyone, "Are you sure? But you are managing the contractions so well! It's your choice, but is this what you really want?" I say I don't know. And I really don't know. I'm still sort of baffled that I said that out loud. Do I really want that? The thing is, I know I can do this (this being birthing without medication), but I just don't want to do this today. I don't want to be in the middle of labor. However, the reality is that, want to or not, this birth is happening today and it's happening NOW. The nurse asks if I'd like a pain medication, something they can give right away. No, I have no interest in that. Then she says, "Well, should we get an IV started? That is the part that takes the longest with an epidural." I don't really have any interest in that either. I mumble somthing about giving it another half hour and then I'll see. Gah. I don't know what I want. I just know that this is all feeling too intense - both physically and mentally.   
Husband: Laura shocks us all by asking if she can still get an epidural.  This was definitely NOT something I was prepared for.  The way she asks it has me thinking that she's just flirting with the idea to perhaps give herself the thought of being able to take the pain away but not really interested in it BUT who knows?  I remember looking around at everyone and it seemed like they were looking at me to figure this out and I figured this was definitely something I had to try to assess.  There was no having anyone take this on for me...I thought for what felt like a solid minute but couldn't have been more than a few seconds about how to talk to Laura about this.  What's crazy is that I'm here to help her stick to what she said she wanted to do BUT I'm not going through any of what I can see are very intense contractions AND I have no clue how long this could continue.  In my head, I'm thinking this may be a few more hours yet.  Laura was standing next to the bed and leaning over it, propping her upper body up on her arms.  I lowered myself on to my knees so she could look at me without pulling her head up and I don't remember what I said but I do remember how I said it.  It was appropriately submissive, respectful and inquisitive.  Something came out like, 'I know you are experiencing a lot of discomfort and you're wondering when this will end but you've come so far and, knowing you,  I think you might regret changing your plan.  Should we just see how things are going and reassess this in a little bit?'  She seemed open to this and the other questions that the staff were asking helped her see they were taking this seriously and she calmly said, 'No, I'll just see how this goes for a while.'  We all must have thought that distraction was needed and without a word, we all sprung into a spontaneously coordinated plan to provide it.

8:55 AM -  Since everyone can see I am needing something, a change at least, Husband, the nurse, and the doula spring into action. The nurse asks if I'd like the room darker, and I realize that I do want a dark room. It makes sense to me. After all, aren't kittens born in dark basements rather than in a bright patch of sunshine in the living room? (And am I a cat? Hm...) The nurse closes the shades against the beautiful summer day and the dark room immediately feels much more appropriate for the occasion. Husband gets a basin with ice water and begins the trick that worked wonders in Bella's delivery - a cold cloth to my forehead. Unfortunately, the dude's breath STINKS. I calmly and politely say, "You need some gum." Ha. He gets some gum and returns to me with some minty-melony breath (a flavor of gum that I would only purchase in a pregnant state...otherwise: BLEGH). The contractions keep coming. The doula rubs my back and murmurs encouragement. All of these things really help to ground me tremendously - especially that cold cloth on my forehead - and I feel myself getting into the labor zone. This also takes off the edge of me feeling like I need to stay "social". OK, game on.
Husband: Told you more on this, later.  Lemon-lime Gatorade makes my breath smell weird for some reason. After Laura told me nicely that I needed gum, I smiled, looked at everyone and said, 'That's her way of telling me nicely that my breath smells,' the comic relief was nice after the stress we all just went through regarding the epidural.  Everyone lets out more of a laugh than the comment should have elicited.  I enjoy that I've made a funny.  The changes that we've made to the room really seem to have settled Laura in.  Something seems different now, we all seem to be more focused now that Laura is.  I turn up the iPod and the room takes on the seriousness that birth commands.

9:05 AM - After another 10 minutes of contractions that continue to come closer and closer together, each longer than the last, I realize I need another change. Even though the midwife advised holding off on the tub, I don't want to wait. I'm pretty sure my body isn't going to slow things down just due to some hot water. The nurse fills it up with pleasantly hot water (vs. the "safe for baby" lukewarm 100 degrees) and I get in. It's awesome...until the contraction hits. Then I want to leap from the water. I get on my hands and knees in between contractions, thinking that would be more comfortable, and again I fully enjoy the sensation of being in the water. Then the next contraction hits and the urge to GET OUT OF THE WATER NOW strikes again.
Husband: Laura remembers this part differently than I do.  Who knows who's right and who cares but I filled the tub up and took her over to the tub.  It seems to immediately sooth her but not throughout the contractions.  While she is in the tub, I get two cloths ready in the ice water so one will always be ready to grab.  I come back in to the bathroom and Laura wants to get out.

9:10 AM - I get out of the tub, get dried off and put my gray nightgown back on and resume laboring over the bed in the bedroom. I kind of hear the Hypnobabies stuff in the background, but it doesn't really get into my consciousness. For the most part, I still feel like I'm mentally chasing after my body as is physically transforming by the second.

9:15 AM - Dammit. I have to poop AGAIN! WTH? Haven't I pooped enough in the past 24 hours? Jebus. I go into the bathroom, with contractions practically rolling over me with every step I take and sit down on the toilet. I immediately pop back up as the contraction hits and forget about pooping. I somehow find myself on my hands and knees in the bathroom - I think because I'm feeling nauseous and preparing to be sick? I lean my forehead down on the side of the tub and the porcelain feels nice and cool on my head. My arm is draped over the toilet and that also feels cool. Were I in any other state of mind other than labor, OH HELL NO would I be draping myself in a hospital bathroom that is likely not 100% clean. But -hey- it's labor! All normal Laura laws and rules are suspended for a bit. I get through a contraction or two in that odd position, with Husband and the doula crowded behind me in the bathroom when suddenly I yell out "I have to puke!" I quickly turn to the toilet and forcefully vomit into the toilet. At the exact same time, I feel a pop and a splat of warm water hits my feet. WHAT!? It only takes a split second to realize my water broke. I say in a trembling voice - not trembling from nerves, really, but more from the sheer intense physical sensation of it all and the adrenaline coursing through my body - "My water just broke!" Last time, with Bella, it was broken by the midwives when I was around 8 or 9 cm, so this is new to me. Interestingly I feel some relief with my water being broken - there is less pressure now. I find my whole body to be shaking uncontrollably, again probably from the adrenaline. I remember this annoying shaking from last time, too.   
Husband: Laura goes to use the bathroom and instead of all of us piling in there as we had in the past, it's just her and the doula.  Laura is sitting on the toilet one minute then saying she needs to puke the next.  She doesn't puke this time but while she's on the floor she gently collapses on to the tub.  I remember thinking that was extremely odd because it's like a public bathroom BUT I try to calm myself by thinking that they must really clean these rooms well after each birth and I figure she must me thinking that, too.  Suddenly, she pops up and says she has to puke and this time she does puke in the toilet and her water breaks all over the floor.  I look at the nurse and she gives me this calm, knowing nod and smile and says 'oh, she's in transition.  It won't be long now.'  I said, 'really?' because I didn't know what else to say and it seemed like what I should have said.  My brain wasn't really working at this point.  The nurse and I move in and with the doula's help, we get Laura off the floor like she was one of our dearest friends who had gone and had too much to drink and was a big sloshy mess and we took her over to the bed.

9:25 AM - I somehow find myself back at the bed and I am now moaning really loudly through all the contractions. I couldn't be quiet if I tried, but the moaning does bring focus to me and to the contractions. I just can't believe how intense this all is. Was it this intense with Bella? I don't think so. Oh, I just want to be past this. I want it to be hours later. I catch sight of the newborn Pampers in the corner. The ones that smell so wonderful and have that handy dandy pee-detecting yellow stripe on them. I think to myself, "By 3 pm, I will be using those on my baby." Why I thought 3 pm, a time nearly 6 hours away, I don't know. Probably because I wanted to give myself some wiggle room this time, since I got rather hell bent on "I will have a baby by x pm" towards the end of my labor with Bella. 

9:30 AM - The midwife is back (I suspect the nurse called her after the one-two punch of the vomit/water breaking) and she checks me. She says I'm at a 9, but my cervix is so soft that I can push if I want to. What? It's time already? Do I want to push? I guess I could. I mean, it certainly feels like I want to poop. Could that be the same feeling as wanting to push? (I still don't have the answer to this, but I suspect for me wanting to poop really bad in labor is the same thing as wanting to push. Many women talk about the satisfying feeling of pushing, but I don't feel the same. Maybe because I don't feel much satisfaction in pooping in front of A ROOM FULL OF PEOPLE?)

9:33 AM - After another contraction, the midwife asks me what position I want to get into to deliver. Angela reminds me I wanted hands and knees. I had put it in my birth plan even. The thought behind hands and knees is that gravity will work to help push him out faster, which I wanted after the 1.5 hours of pushing with Bella. I also found myself drawn to the hands and knees position throughout my pregnancy with Oliver. So I had pre-decided it would be the way to go. I climb onto the bed and get on my hands and knees facing the wall. 

9:34 AM - At this point I begin ROARING - truly, a primal roar - through the contractions and there is no discernible differentiation between each one. My body is reduced to it's most basic functioning right now. I am no different than a lion birthing it's cub. There must be a lion in Africa simultaneously roaring out it's baby just as I roar out mine. My god, birthing is weird. While the rest of my body is in the most extreme physical condition I've ever been in, my brain begins a ridiculous narrative in this calm, observation-style voice (think a narrator of a nature program). That narrator voice is saying, "Huh. Well, this is totally awkward. What was I thinking wanting this position? My ass is now facing several people at eye level. And I'm probably pooping again. In fact, I'm probably just taking a really big poo right now, and the baby isn't going to come for a while."
Husband:  I'm facing the wall with Laura, holding fresh ice-cold rags on her head for each contraction, telling her over and over to focus on the cold sensation only, think about beaches in Mexico, anything to get her to think about something else.  Her contractions begin with ROARS that progress into blood-curdling, and guttural SCREAMS.  I figure, 'Fuck it,' and I start yelling right next to her with each contraction, thinking that this will at least make her feel less self-conscious because, if I know her at all, I know she has been, especially about the poop.  I keep telling her to focus on what she needs to do and that there is a team to take care of the rest. 

9:35 AM - I yell, "I'm sorry if I'm pooping!" in between roars.  Husband tells me, "It's fine. You're fine! It was only a little bit." ZOMG, how embarrassing! And how annoying that I am so aware of it! And SEEEEEERIOUSLY - there was no vegetarian Indian buffet this time around and I already pooped so many times. WHY? WHY?????? (Clearly I am very troubled by the pooping aspect of delivery. And I wish I didn't feel so compelled to tell you about the poo and could just leave it out, but THE TRUTH WILL PREVAIL is annoyingly my motto for life. I would feel like a liar - a delightful non-poopy sort of liar, but a liar nonetheless - if I left it out.) 
Husband: Laura poops a little on the pad on the bed and I just smile inside because this time I didn't end up stepping in it.  The nurse quickly and adeptly whisks it away.

9:36 AM - Body still roaring. Contractions are constantly happening. Brain still chatting away with inane thoughts, "Hm! Weird to just be facing a white wall while all the action takes place behind me!" Life is simultaneously on fast forward and in slow motion. Apparently Husband is roaring along with me, but I can't hear him. I'm in my own world.

9:37 AM - WHAT IS THIS NEW SENSATION!? RING OF FIRE! I REPEAT, THIS MUST BE THE RING OF FIRE! I roar now more than ever. Oliver's head emerges. 

9:38 AM - The midwife somewhat hurriedly asks me to push one more time now that his head is out. I give one final oomph of a push and Oliver flies out. It's the weirdest sense of relief as I feel his body slip out. Honestly? It pretty much feels like I just pooped my baby out.   
Husband: The midwife says that Laura needs to hold her breath and push because the baby's head has emerged.  I kind of remember this like an edited film sequence, the midwife's face and her comment, Laura screaming, me holding the cloth and yelling, and then a baby falling out on to the bed, though I'm sure he didn't fall because he was in the midwife's hands.  Once again, I'm in complete awe that Laura has navigated this process just as she has planned and everything has gone about as well as could be expected.  I'll let her tell the rest of her story in her own words.  

9:39 AM - Everything suddenly feels silent once my roaring stops. A moment passes and then I hear his cry. Oh my god, he is here. He is here! I did it. It's over. Finally. He's here. He's here. I exhale, my throat dry and sore. I maybe say a swear word as my head flops forward in exhaustion/exhilaration/shock/everything you can possibly imagine.

9:40 AM - I am told to remain in the hands and knees position, but I want a peek at my baby. I look down and see an umbilical cord between my legs (!) and then try looking over my shoulder to see him and can't quite tell what is happening. Oh, why did I think hands and knees was a good idea?? I ask if he's OK and am told he is just fine (for the record - Apgars of 9 & 9). They don't want me to move until the umbilical cord stops pulsating. At first I think, "How annoying!" Then I remember that I put that in the birth plan. Ha. I'm so excited to see him that I now just want to be like, "Skip it! Doesn't matter! Just cut it!" But it only takes a couple minutes and then Husband snips the cord.

9:45 AM - I am able to turn over and lay in the bed and they put my baby boy on my chest. Hello, little man.

I'm still so overwhelmed and truly still in shock of HOW FREAKING FAST that delivery was. It was just less than an hour ago that I was at 6 cm dilated and beginning active labor. But I look at my baby and marvel over his lovely hair and his surprisingly long fingernails and while I don't know him, he is familiar to me.

How odd it is to finally meet someone with whom you are going to have one of the most spectacular love affairs of your life with. It's like you already know the future, but here you are living in the present doing the most basic of get-to-know-yous. I don't love him yet. But someday I will. I caress his bruised face and the world feels still.

9:50 AM - Instinctively, I initiate breastfeeding and he latches on immediately. How I thought to do without prompting from a nurse or my doula in the in the midst of all the mental and physical chaos, I don't know. It truly is an instinct.

10:00 AM - The nurse takes Oliver over to the warming table to do a cursory clean up (we will wait on a bath) and weigh him. We all throw out guesses in the high 7 or low 8 lb range. The nurse announces, "9 pounds, 5 ounces!" SAY WHAT!? And suddenly the extreme physical discomfort paired with the oddly enormous and nearly cube-shaped belly is explained.

10:05 AM - Husband removes his shirt to do a little skin-to-skin bonding for a few minutes with his son. His son.

10:10 AM - Husband places Oliver back on my chest and he breastfeeds again. We look at him and each other, still punch-drunk on the enormity of the past couple hours. Our life, our family, has shifted and altered in such a profound way, but it's still to big to grasp. Hell, it will take months to grasp. For now, though, we just take it moment by moment as our tiny (or, uh, not so tiny, really) guy figures out this new and crazy world, starting with the most basic of tasks - eating.

And so our life begins, once more...

Husband: Laura is, in my mind, more beautiful than I can comprehend.  She is a wonderful mother, a humble and intelligent woman, a fierce birthing warrior and my best friend in the world.  I love her and the family she has delivered and built with me with a passion that is deeper and more profound than any love that I have felt or been able to give.  Many aspects of this love are inexplicable for someone like me but it's the one force that will always give me incredible strength but likely not as much strength as Laura has demonstrated today. 

*     *     *    *    *

Obviously there were many birth-related things that happened after this, but most of them are not particularly pleasant, and some of them scary. And so I want to separate the birth from the immediate postpartum period into two posts, even though they happened one right after the other. Because this part - the actual birth - this is the part that will be celebrated and remembered. What came after can fade away to a pale watercolor in years to come. I want this part to stay bold and colorful in my mind for life.

Guest Post - Babies in China

My dear friend, Holly, is back with a second guest post (and she is the caboose on this guest post train). This is a topic that I have been begging her to write a post about for awhile now. I'm forever fascinated by the similarities and differences between different cultures, especially when it comes to everyday objects and activities. I remember on my first study abroad trip - a 3-week journey around France at 17-years-old - I was struck by the fact that the big tour buses were EXACTLY THE SAME as tour buses in the U.S. This blew me away. Somehow, I expected that the french tour buses would be full of a certain...je ne sais quoi, if you will. But no(n). They had the same gray seats and funky teal/purple/red pattern on the seats and the bathroom was in the back and it was all just the same, same, same. On the flip side, when studying abroad in London in college, I remember being shocked that the tuna salad sandwiches I would buy came on buttered bread. What!? Butter and mayo all on the same sandwich? Crazy. And there was also the fact that you could buy a bag of prawn crisps to have on the side. Translation: shrimp-flavored (or should I say flavoured?) chips. Cheeky Brits, eating weird-to-me things! Anyway, I'm rambling here, but this is all to say I was very excited to have Holly give me some deets on the differences between pregnancy and baby-raising in China versus the U.S. Thanks again, Hol.

Holly with her adorable son.

I'm happy to be back to talk about pregnancy and child-rearing in China.  As a disclaimer, these are just my own observations and could certainly be limited by my short 3.5 years experience.  I'm certainly not an expert, just a lay person with impressions.  Additionally, I really hope my thoughts come across as objective and non-judgmental and respectful to my host Chinese. 

As an American diplomat posted in China, I've had a unique perspective on the expectations and cultural norms of pregnancy in the Middle Kingdom.  I've experienced pregnancy and child raising and second pregnancy (I'm due October 27) in a culture where strangers feel an obligation to my unborn child to warn me against drinking cold things every time I order a drink with ice - no Chinese pregnant woman would drink a cold beverage voluntarily, as it messes with the body's natural balance or 'qi.'   In a country where my friends can only be pregnant once and my son's Chinese friends are mostly only children, a second pregnancy is an anomaly.  My Chinese friends pretty uniformly worry that being pregnant so soon is worrisome for both of my sons' development and for my as-yet un-recovered, delicate self (the boys will be about 15 months apart).  They believe 3-4 years a more appropriate spacing.  And perhaps as an additional result of the one-child policy, Chinese strangers cherish pregnant women and fawn over babies and toddlers.  In no particular order other than my own stream of consciousness, here are several of my favorite highlights:

-- First, I've been amazed the extent to which Chinese treat pregnant women like delicate flowers.  Cab drivers, gruff and grumpy and picky on customers most of the time, rarely deny a pregnant woman a ride, regardless of how close or far the destination may seem (and they always complain about the route/destination of their fares).  People regularly comment on my size and predict gender of the baby.

-- Things pregnant women don't do:  Wear make-up, wear high heels, drink cold beverages, eat sweets (I've been called on this one probably more than the cold beverages!), sit in any breeze/small wind or in a cold room, carry any heavy objects (27 pound 10-month old babies included, oops), most exercise that includes running or jumping.  Many women stop driving as they start to show.

-- Friends are or have spent 1-2 years "getting ready" to get pregnant, including losing/gaining weight (equally common), saving money, getting a house ready, waiting for a parent to retire.  If you thought Laura was a planner, you have no idea. . . :)

-- Chinese law prohibits doctors from disclosing the gender of the baby before about 8 months' pregnant, in an effort to avoid gender-selective abortions.  Unfortunately, this practice still occurs (although much less in cities), even though the one child policy has been liberalized somewhat in rural areas to allow families with a girl baby to try again for a boy.  Fines for an 'illegal' second child are often multiples of a regions average salary. 

--  C-section rates are among the highest in the world, eclipsing even the U.S.  There are a myriad of reasons:  Shortage of hospital beds so people book in advance to be sure they get one, doctors (whose salaries are low) are compensated exponentially more for the practice, and (in my opinion) because again the one child policy puts so much pressure to have a perfect child.

--  For most families, who cannot afford foreign private hospitals, women labor mostly alone.  Dad's aren't allowed into the room.  One friend was in a room with 3 other laboring women and watched them go through it first.  Many hospitals will encourage formula feedings early on, so that the mom can rest after labor.  Nurses are in charge of the newborn baby's schedule, not moms/dads.

--  After baby arrives and leaves the hospital, neither mom nor child leaves home for 1 month.  Mom eats a special diet for milk production and healing each day including eggs with nearly every meal and pork hocks, and is cared for in every way by her mother or mother in law or husband.  The weeks following labor are considered very dangerous for women, as they are vulnerable to bad airs and are considered 'open.'  They most definitely ease into recovery and take more care with the process than I think we tend to do.  Generations past waited weeks to bathe or wash their hair, although this tradition is going away.

-- Many pregger girls wear a smock with a 'radiation shield" as soon as they discover they are pregnant.  Imagine 3rd grade art class style.  This is to protect from the rays emitted by the computer, but leads me to wonder why no one is talking about the fact that the air quality is rated between "unhealthy" "very unhealthy" and "hazardous" at least 35% of the time.  It also means that EVERYONE knows you are pregnant immediately, very different from our 12-week unspoken rule.  Although, I have to say, it would have been quite nice for everyone to know during those pukey/fatigued few weeks that they should be extra nice to me.

--  The Chinese have maternity leave, guaranteed and paid by the employer and government.  To a working mom-to-be looking down the barrel at 3 months unpaid leave, this seems pretty amazing.  Till I talked to a Canadian diplomat friend, who got 1 paid year off for each of her 3 sons' arrivals.

-- The Chinese do 100-day photos to celebrate the milestone and usually host a dinner party with family, friends and colleagues.  Imagine senior pictures combined with glamor shots.  They make books, life size wall hangings and prints of their children, and share them with family. 

-- 90% of Chinese children are cared for by their grandparents, and households with 2 working-age parents supporting 4 retired parents and 1 very 'well loved' child (they call them "little emperors") are common.  If a parent cannot or won't move in with the family, then the baby will live with the grandparents while the parents work. 

-- China has a severe shortage of pre-schools (they call them kindergartens, and most kids attend from 3-6), which makes the tuition outrageously expensive compared to salaries.  First grade is the first mandatory year of schooling, starting at 6 years old.  This shortage means parents are often willing to send kids to live with family nearer a good school.  They do not mess around with the importance of education, and they start early.

--  Our baby's nanny has a theory on why he doesn't sleep well at night yet - she thinks I must have been too active during my pregnancy.  She bases this on the fact that she herself was pregnant during the summer and ate cold food, which caused her son to have childhood stomach problems.

--  Speaking of the nanny (who many days I want to hug when she arrives to our house - she is an amazing and loving woman), when we told her the news that we are expecting again, she directly said "it is too soon!"  to which I said, "and Congratulations, right?"  I love the dignity with which people directly share their advice and opinions.

-- When we are in public, I'm constantly warding off people who want to touch my son, and strangers love to talk to him and about him, and he has his picture taken ALL the time - no one asks.  I think the blond baby with curls is quite a unique thing, especially when he was very young - no one else took their 3-4 month old out and about for errands like we did.  I'm afraid he'll have a narcissistic complex by the time we leave!

-- The baby understands basic Chinese and English already, and we fully hope to have a fluently bilingual child when we leave China.  For anyone who has had to study a foreign language, you know what a gift this truly is.  I am betting his first words will be in Chinese.

-- I love the two seasons of China baby style:  1.  Fall-Winter-Spring, kids wear 3 pairs of pants, 4 shirts, big coats, etc., to stay warm. 

I tell confused Chinese judging me for not putting socks on my son that it is because he is from the north and therefore needs less clothes.  2.  The adorable shaved head of summer - Chinese babies have so much more hair than my baldy white baby, they just shave it off to keep cool in summer.  It is amazing how it seems there is no transition from style 1 to 2.  One day, everyone is just wearing less and has no hair.

-- Kids sleep with their parents till they are in elementary school at least.   Our habit of putting a baby in its own bed, in its own room seems wickedly cruel to many Chinese friends.  I think this might have to do with the one child policy and also with our having two babies in 15 months.

- Split pants are everywhere, Chinese families often don't use disposable diapers.  When you think about it, keeping that stuff tucked all up in close IS kind of gross, and Chinese kids are potty trained MUCH earlier.  A close friend gets up 3 times each night with her 3 year old to take her to the bathroom.   And she changes the sheets many times a week. 

-- The Chinese definitely stress the importance of breast feeding, especially in light of the 2008 and ongoing concerns with the safety of the dairy supply chain in formula production.  This incident drove parents to the brink in China.

-- Chinese babies ease into new food more slowly than Western babies - they will eat basic soups, rice broths, cooked egg yolks, and some fruits as first foods, but usually wait till much later to introduce in other flavors (Which is a pity, because Chinese food in China is the best part of being here.  It is amazing.  Every person emphasizes fresh ingredients and not processed inputs.  I was cheated my first 27 years of life, not knowing the extent of Chinese cuisine's richness and variety).

There are so many more - we discover them all the time through friends and colleagues.  Having a baby in China has been so special, and I think he is lucky to have multiple cultures' knowledge as he grows through these early days.  I'm so blessed that my son, with his nanny and an entire society focused on his well being, will grow up with a love of people different than him. 

Hot in the City

I'm currently sipping my half-caf with half and half (half to the third power?) and blogging on the couch while my little man is doing his grunting thing in his bouncy chair next to me (seriously - the child is so grunty, like a piglet). The house is quiet. Bella was whisked away by the in-laws for some outside park & wading pool time and Husband is off running errands (he has the week off). Never would have thought that Oliver's arrival would bring more quiet time for me, but so far it's worked out fabulously. Having help here - and me accepting the help -is pretty much what is keeping me sane and even keel. That and my magic placenta pills, of course.

This weekend Husband commented to me that Bella can be so exhausting with her endless talking and need for attention. I reminded him that she is in fact JUST LIKE HIM. Ha. That made him think. We mentioned this to his parents and they laughed, saying that as a child he would complain that "Nobody loved him or listened to him or paid attention to him!" Even though, obviously, they were endlessly loving him and listening to him and paying attention to him. Apple, tree, whatnot. (And I should add that I was probably the most relentlessly and annoyingly attention-seeking of my siblings. So Bella had it coming from two sides.)

Short interruption as I jiggle and soothe the now crying baby. Enjoy this picture of Oliver and his multiplying chins while you wait.

This weekend marked our first family adventure and it was to my beloved Mill City Farmer's Market. It didn't start out so promising. It took forever to corral and organize ourselves and then the 10-block car ride was total chaos with Oliver crying and Bella shouting, "Be quiet! Quiet, Ah-yiver! SHHHHH!" the entire time. Husband looked at me in a panic and yelped, "What have we done!?" But once we arrived after those interminable 10-minutes (thank you excessive downtown stoplights), all was well.

Right now Bella's face is covered in bumps and bruises as she has managed to bonk her head not once, not twice, but THREE times in the past week. The first one involved her walking directly into a pole and after the goose-egg subsided, it somehow drained down her face and now she has two blue spots on her inner eye where it meets her nose.

Husband and I feel compelled to explain this to everyone we meet (and we do meet everyone given Extremely Social Family Member 1 & 2), lest they think something suspect about it.

Speaking of meeting people, as we were eating our Farmer's Market lunch, Bella decided that the group of women sitting near us would like a performance. She got up, plunked herself down on the stairs above them and sang her latest song - Row Your Boat. And then she clapped along with them when she was done. Oh, that girl. Still waiting on stranger anxiety to show up...

Yesterday was ridonkulously hot so we headed up to our super fancy rooftop pool. Sometimes I feel bad for those people in the fancy condos across the street. Their view of our messy deck is probably not so lovely. It was so incredibly humid that it took only 10 seconds for my camera to fog up and within another 5 seconds I wasn't able to use it. So iPhone camera to the rescue!

So that's what's up on the Mothership. Life is slowly resuming a new normal - a good new normal, even. I really thought these early days would just be pure hell (uh...don't mind me with my glass half full optimism!), but they aren't. There are moments that are frustrating and I want to cry UNCLE on having to breastfeed for the zillionth time, but overall I'm feeling pretty darn happy these days.

CSA Recipes

Want a household tip?  Course you do. Here it is: It's probably best NOT to sign up for a full share CSA (Community-Supported Agriculture, yo!) when you are either of the following: (1) a nauseous and extremely pregnant person or (2) a feeble-cakes and anemic postpartum person. If you are neither of those things, then totally go for it, man. 10 million pounds of vegetables for the win!

Eh, I'm kidding(ish). I'm still mostly glad we committed to it. Mostly. With a side of, "OMG, NO MORE ARUGULA!"  I think I'll be happier with the CSA once we move away from the all-greens-all-the-time selection and I have a little more energy and desire to cook. In the meantime, I'll keep cooking or freezing what I can, passing on the surplus to the in-laws, and trying not to beat myself up too much for some wilted broccoli rabe and neglected turnips ending up in the trash.

Anyhoodles, here is what I whipped up last week. I'm thinking this will be a regular weekly feature on the ol' blog until our CSA ends in October.

Radish Dip and Kohlrabi Slices

Radish dip recipe here (thanks for the idea, Heather!) and for the kohlrabi I just peeled & sliced it raw. The dip was pretty tasty considering it was made with radishes, of which neither Husband or I am a fan. Raw kohlrabi was an interesting alternative to the ubiquitous carrot stick and Bella liked eating it, too.

 Arugula-Walnut Pesto Pasta with Grilled Chicken

I used my stand-by pesto recipe and subbed walnuts for the pine nuts and arugula for the basil. Then I tossed the pesto with penne noodles and halved cherry tomatoes, topped it with the grilled chicken and extra Parmesan. Here is another chicken pesto pasta recipe that I've done in the past. I'm actually glad I was forced to try arugula pesto as it will be  a way to have pesto all winter long since arugula is much cheaper than fresh basil. And with the amount of surplus arugula pesto I made...we will be having pesto all winter long. Tip: freeze pesto into ice cubes.

Curried Chicken Salad on CSA Greens

Curried Chicken Salad recipe that included chopped CSA scallions in place of onions. Time saver tip - use chunks of thawed frozen mango rather than cutting up a fresh one. Mango is a "clean 15" fruit so I purchase conventional frozen mango.

 Caramelized Onion, Roasted Red Pepper, Arugula & Gruyere Quiche

 

Gotta say that I'm a little proud of this quiche. Didn't follow any recipe, but the basic gist of it is: caramelize half a small onion (i.e. cook diced onions over lower heat forever), then add 5 cups or so of fresh arugula to the pan and cook it until wilted. Chop 2-3 roasted red peppers (note red peppers are one of those "dirty dozen" foods so I used a jar of organic ones) and shred 6 oz or so Gruyere (~1.5 cups shredded). In a prepared pie crust (I had a Trader Joe one on hand), layer half the cheese, the veggies, and the other half of the cheese. Pour a mixture of 3 eggs (beaten) & 1.5 cups milk/half&half over the top. Cook at 350 for 40 minutes or until a knife comes out of the center clean. Let stand at least 10 minutes before diving in. Eat it up because it's freaky good.

Oliver's Birth Story: Early Labor (Part 1)

June 30, 2011: 39 Weeks, 5 Days...The Day Before

I wake up early with Bella and I am actually feeling rather energetic, albeit with a side of pukey, of course. Odd. In retrospect, I think the energy I experience on this last day before Oliver comes is the final pre-labor nesting burst. Since it's going to be a hot day, I decide that we should go on an early morning walk to burn off some of Bella's toddler energy. This is fairly ambitious of me given my seemingly falling-apart pregnant body (i.e. sometimes I seriously think my right leg might fall off from my hip socket and I have contractions with most steps), but, like I said, I'm feeling pretty good. Bella and I take an hour long walk to the grocery store and back for the sole purpose of buying me an iced vanilla latte at the Caribou Coffee inside the grocery store. I should note that the grocery store is only four blocks from our townhome - we were moving at toddler and super-pregnant-lady speed, obviously. During our walk I take what will be the last belly picture.

Pointing to her baby bruzzah. He looks like he has dropped a little more.

I continue to feel rather energetic and productive after our walk so Bella and I embark on a MASSIVE shopping trip at Super Target. You would have thought we were going to be quarantined for a month or possibly a year as I purchased multiples of supplies like contact solution, diaper wipes, dishwasher detergent and canned goods. I would say that I don't know what came over me, except I do know: more pre-labor nesting. However, I pretty much wanted to cry when the final total came up. On the other hand, we aren't going to need supplies for a long, long time. (Long, long, LONG time.)

OMG. Never, ever again.

My mother-in-law meets us at our house to help me unload all those groceries and then she watches Bella while I go and get a pedicure, something that had been on my pre-baby bucket list.

I can't help but feel slightly smug about dodging the swollen feet and ankles symptom this time around (coconut water for the win!) in spite of temps in the 90s and being at the very end of my pregnancy. And by slightly smug I mean totally smug. I am allowed that pregnant asshole thought after all the months of puking, mysteriously excessive weight gain, reflux, and crap sleep. Yes? Yes. The pedicure lady asks when I'm due and when I casually say, "in a couple days" her eyes get kind of big.

I return home and instead of a much needed nap, I feel the need to finish up Bella's 2-year letter and find myself crying as I think of the wonderful - but enormous - change coming for her and our family. An excerpt of that letter:

Oh, my baby girl, I’m about to change your life, but I think – I hope –for the better. Your baby brother is coming any day now and you will go from being our one and only to one of a pair of the best little munchkins anyone could ask for. Knowing this change is literally coming at any time, I find myself taking the time to really appreciate you.

By the time Bella gets up from her nap I find my energy has completely disappeared. I really should have taken a nap myself. I feel exhausted and kind of off and by 4 pm the Braxton Hicks/false labor has started up again. I have had similar evenings like this recently, so while I notice it, I don't bother trying to time things or really do much about it. My dad, who is in town for business, comes over for dinner, but I'm having a hard time socializing as I just want to crawl up to bed to sleep. My dad asks me if I've been having any more false labor. "Yeah," I tell him, "Right now." And that would be a second time that day that someone's eyes got wide. Because I'm so pooped out, our dinner is turkey hot dogs on the grill with baked beans, salad, and fresh fruit. (Is it less trashy if I tell you the hot dogs & beans were organic?) We discuss the plan for the next day - to have my in-laws, including my sister-in-law, and dad all over for dinner. The thought of a big dinner sounds completely overwhelming, even though I wouldn't be the one cooking. It crosses my mind that this is something I might not even have to deal with.

I end my day with a chocolate chip cookie and go to bed early, around 9 pm. The false labor stuff seems to have died away once again...
 

July 1, 2011- 39 Weeks, 6 Days

2:30 AM - I am awakened by contractions that seem a little stronger than the Braxton Hicks/false labor contractions I was dealing with last night. I roll off the couch (my bed for the last month or so as it is a little more comfortable than my bed), go up the stairs to pee and notice how terribly nauseous I'm feeling. I return back downstairs to the living room, force feed myself a granola bar to take the edge of the nausea and prevent what would surely be inevitable dry heaving, and lay back down on the couch. Since I know I will likely be awake the next two hours given my typical pregnancy insomnia pattern, I decide to do some timing of the contractions. Hey - what do you know! - they are coming 7 minutes apart. Hmm...early labor? Or more false labor?

2:45 AM - What's this? I have to poo. Middle of the night poos are not the norm, so I am now very suspicious that I'm in labor. I will continue to go several times throughout that morning (i.e. the body clearing itself out for labor).

3:45 AM - As I spend an hour lounging on the couch, reading blogs and checking email, I find myself beginning to quietly hum or softly "ooh" through the contractions. Like last time, I find the urge to be vocal during contractions. I'm a vocalizer (sung to the tune of Britney's womanizer, obvs). And is that back pain that I'm feeling? I remember feeling that during Bella's labor. Still wondering where this is all going...I can't believe that I would actually go into labor before my due date. Actually, I somehow can't believe this might actually be happening at all.

4:00 AM - I decide to take a shower and shave, just in case it is the real deal. Because it makes sense to freshen up before you get all covered in birth goo? As I'm in the shower I think to myself, "Wow, I will really regret this move if it turns out to be false labor" because the shower would only serve to really wake me up and prevent me from getting at least another hour of sleep.

4:45 AM - I decide to put on The Kennedys on Netflix (watch instantly!) and I find I no longer want to be lying down during a contraction. I stand up and hum during contractions and then lay back down in between. Contractions are still around 7 minutes apart.

5:00 AM - After a couple contractions doing the up-down thing off the couch, I decide to get some tidying and cleaning done. Again, I'm not sure if I'm really in labor or not, but I know that if I am in labor, I will feel better knowing all the last minute cleaning things like dishes are done. The nausea continues to plague me, which is frustrating. I decide to text the doula, Angela, to let her know that I'm experiencing a lot of early labor symptoms, but that she doesn't need to do anything yet. Just an FYI. Because, like I said, I might have this all wrong.

5:30 AM - I am surprised to hear Bella up - she has been sleeping in until at least 6:00 AM the past several mornings - so I go upstairs and Husband is already in her room with her. Unfortunately, Bella is in a bit of a mood today, probably a combo of waking too early and the teeth that are coming in. I tell Husband that I think I'm in labor and he wakes up much more quickly than his usual slow-poke style. We all go downstairs together to get Bella breakfast.
Husband: I hear Bella wake up...early as hell and I'm annoyed but I slowly make my way out of bed and go to her room.  We are lying on the futon mattress in her room together and I'm hoping that she'll snuggle with me and go back to sleep for a while, when Laura comes in and tells me that she thinks she may be in labor.  I'm wise to this because she's told me this before and had a few false labor experiences with Bella but when I see that she has to pause and focus during the contractions I know it's the real deal.  A surge of adrenaline rushes through my body and I'm wide awake because I know this is the day our little boy is coming. 

5:45 AM - Husband calls him mom to ask her to come over (they are spending several weeks in the Twin Cities this summer). I'm still feeling like I could be getting this all wrong and that I'll be sent home from the hospital, but at least it's not the middle of the night. On the other hand, the midwives wanted me to go to the hospital when contractions were around 6-7 minutes apart given my fast labor last time, so...Hm.

6:00 AM - Bella continues to be in her funky mood and when Husband sits on a chair that she wanted to sit on, she does her, "NONONO! That's Bella's chair, Daddy. You sit over there, Daddy!" We make her rephrase her request for daddy to move to include "please."  Once he stands up, Bella proceeds to announce that she will "Wipe off daddy" and wipes the chair off with her hand before climbing up. I can't help but laugh. As we eat breakfast I continue to have contractions that are strong enough that I stand up during them and do yoga breathing (Ujjayi breath) through them. Bella thinks it's all great fun and she breathes along with me. She is starting to perk up now that she has some food in her.  I eat a couple bites of the Fage yogurt I gave her, but it's a struggle to eat given my nausea.  
Husband: I email work and tell them I'm not likely coming in today and that I think today is the day.  Bella is rude to me at breakfast and I ask myself whether I want to bring another one of these creatures in to the world :)


6:20 AM - We head back upstairs so I can get dressed and finish the last minute things. I know that the bite of yogurt and the long-ago granola bar won't be enough to sustain me through labor (if this is labor?) so I force myself to eat a high-protein Luna bar and a few Sports jelly beans, both things I had packed in my labor bag. My hopes that they would seem more palatable during labor didn't really work. Anything and everything is gag-worthy and I have no appetite. I'm also drinking coconut water to keep hydrated. I have a couple contractions during this and since I'm already sitting on the floor I get into a hands-and-knees position. Husband rubs my lower back. Bella watches all this with interest. Husband contacts the doula to let her know, "This is it! Why don't you head over." I encourage Husband to go take a shower now.
Husband: I jump in the shower and try to remember that I'm supposed to be calm and keep Laura calm.  I like the role because it means I just need to take everything in stride, think about what is happening first and then react.

6:30 AM - While Husband showers, I decide I want to put on some make-up as I feel an urge to be all pretty for this birth in spite of the fact that I wear make-up only occasionally. Bella helps me because the girl loves make-up, probably because it seems like this awesome art project that I won't let her fully participate in. If I were to psycho-analyze myself on this odd make-up thing, I would say I was looking for a little control in the face of giving up all control. Or maybe I just wanted to use my new MAC brush and eye shadow and what better time than early labor?

About to powder mama.

Bella takes over where her Daddy left of during my next few contractions and gently pats my butt when I get into the hands-and-knees position. It's hilarious and sweet.  She's my mini-doula. Contractions continue to get subtly stronger and seem to be coming a little closer together (maybe 6 minutes apart?) Husband finishes his shower, gets dressed, and I give him the list of what is left to pack up.  
Husband: I see Laura getting gussied up and think 'that's odd...' but I move on to be sure I have everything. I keep telling myself to breathe slowly and try to stay focused on getting all the stuff ready to go.  However, I think that I'm going to forget something and be responsible for Laura not having the birth the way she wants it i.e. I'll forget the iPod player, etc. 

6:40 AM - My mother-in-law arrives and does exactly the right thing - she brings Bella into her bedroom to play and keep her out of the way while we wrap up things at home.


6:45 - Suddenly I feel very nauseous and I find myself hunched over the toilet throwing up the luna bar. Sigh. This nausea/puking this is so very, very old at this point. Husband hears the lovely retching noises and comes into the bathroom. I feel bad for him to witness such grossness, but he says he doesn't mind. The throwing up thing (rather than just dry heaving or feeling nauseous) is enough for Husband and I to both feel that we should head to the hospital now rather than continue to labor at home, so we call Angela (the doula) and ask her to meet us at the hospital rather than coming to our place first. I am still not convinced that I'm in labor and continue to feel slightly twitchy about making everyone run around when this all might be a mistake.


6:55 AM - We say goodbye to Bella with some quick kisses in between contractions. I would like a longer good-bye, but (1) I don't really want her to witness these slightly stronger contractions and (2) we really need to get going to the hospital given my fears about delivering the baby on I-394.


7:00 - We leave for the hospital and I admit to Husband that, "I just don't want to do this today." I go on to explain that labor and delivery is like having to run a marathon and it sucks that I'll be running this marathon feeling nauseous and exhausted. But on the the positive side, I feel a little better than I did the week before, so why not today? The car ride is much more comfortable than it was during Bella's birth since I'm not quite in active labor. Actually, it felt oddly like a pleasant morning commute since the traffic was light and it was early morning and I was heading towards the exact hospital where I once worked. I am thankful that my body once again timed labor so as to avoid traffic on the highway! I have a few contractions in the car, but they are very manageable and I just make "ommmm" noises or do fish lips (blowing air through pursed lips) through them. I consciously choose these vocalizations on the basis that they keep your jaw loose and a loose jaw means the rest of your body will stay loose, which is essential during labor and delivery. However, I do feel ridiculous doing the fish lips thing.   
Husband: Laura is handling the contractions well and pops out while not in them and seems normal and cheery aside from not wanting to have the birth today.  I tell her that in a few hours we'll have our baby in our arms and all will be over.  That doesn't really seem to help.  Traffic is good because people must have already started to head out for the long holiday weekend.  I'm slightly jealous because I know our weekend will be spent adjusting to our new life of limited sleep and additional responsibilities but I get past that pretty quickly and focus on getting off on the right exit as I can be a bit spacey at times...

7:20 AM - We park in the parking ramp and my superior packing skillz have Husband easily able to bring everything in while I waddle in alongside him. This is so much more chill than when we arrived at the hospital when I was in labor with Bella.  I do have to stop here and there for a contraction, but I feel like I'm able to keep it on the down low for the most part. Well, I think it's on the down low, but the front door greeter does ask if I want a wheelchair. (To which I politely decline but inside feel an emphatic NO! to that. Contractions while standing are much more comfortable to me than those while sitting.)  Once inside I can't quite remember which floor is Labor & Delivery, although I believe it's the third. We check at the volunteer desk and the volunteer calls out, "Good luck!" to us as we make our way to the elevator. I worry a little about having to ride the elevator with other people - and would have warned anyone stepping into the elevator with us that I was in labor - but luckily it's just Husband and me. Interestingly, this is an elevator I took a zillion times before with my eating disorders clients and I notice that a sign on the bulletin board in the elevator is the same one that was up there four years ago. What a different context to be seeing this sign!   
Husband: Things seem eerily similar to Bella's birth as we make our way up to the labor and delivery floor, which I remember well from last time.  A bit of the thoughts and fears from the last delivery flare up but I keep them in check.  I'm primarily concerned about Laura's hemorrhage from Bella's delivery, but I tell myself that my role is protect her from these kinds of negative thoughts and that everything will be fine, as we are in excellent hands.

7:30 - We arrive at L&D and I can't remember which side to buzz to be let in. We pick one side and it is indeed the wrong side. A nurse asks us if we are there for an induction (see! I am keeping my contractions on the down low!) and looks a little surprised when I say, "No, I'm in labor." This is where I think my Hypnobabies training really shines through.  She walks us over to the correct side and we begin the process of being admitted.

7:35 - We are in the tiny observation room and they have me change into a gown, lay on the bed and attach a monitor to my belly. Yuck. This part sucks and feels so uncomfortable. The midwife, who I have never met before but have heard great things about, arrives. She checks me and pronounces me a "generous four." At this point I'm honestly not sure if I'm in labor "enough" and wonder if we'll be admitted or forced to walk hallways or something first. I guess being at a four - even though I've been hanging at a three for a couple weeks - means I really am in labor?  Apparently so. After we finish the 20 minutes of observation, we make our way to the delivery room. I am excited to finally be able to settle in and get this thing going.   
Husband: We're in the exact same room that Laura came into for Bella's birth only this time Laura is totally chill and bubbly when not having contractions, unlike last time where she was staring off to some unknown horizon and looked a bit like a zombie.  The exact same room causes my fears to flare up a bit more like some state-dependent learning phenomenon but again I work to quell the fears and focus on helping Laura stay positive and focused on being relaxed.  Laura is getting a bit pushy and wants me to go through the suitcase we brought right then and there to know exactly where everything was, even though we were in a room that barely had enough room for anyone other than her.  I asked, or perhaps strongly urged, that we wait until we get to our final room.  Angela arrives and she is a welcome distraction/addition.  They monitor the contractions and the baby's heartbeat and everything seems to be perfect.

Part 2: Active Labor & Delivery