Biggest Blessings

Just over three weeks ago, I was finally scheduled for an induction.

Giving birth during COVID-19 is absolutely terrifying. You have no idea from one day to the next what the hospital policies are going to be. Before being admitted, would I need to be tested? Will I get to hold my baby? Can I have my people with me?

I wanted a specific kind of birth story, and I got it, if not in a roundabout way. I wanted to have a natural birth, as little medication as possible. I wanted a “Red Tent” kind of birth, surrounded by women in a calm, soothing space (hahaha).

Birth goes in a million different directions on the best of days – every birth story I’ve read or heard has gone off the rails in some form or another. So, I figured I was ready.

Sunday night, March 22nd, I went in for my induction. They got me settled in – I had brought my own gown (which looked like a cute little gray dress), simply because I hate having things up close to my neck. I was happy to be there, optimistic – after waiting and worrying he’d grow too big for a vaginal birth, I was finally here and he seemed to be ready for a natural birth, even if I did have to go with cytotec and pitocin.

Once I was changed and in the bed, the nurse checked me…and checked me. It took a lot longer than I thought, and after she gave me a smile, and a moment out of the room, she announced I was 4 cm dilated and 60% effaced. I was having mild, sporadic contractions – what I had grown used to. So she said we’d wait and kind of see.

Two hours later, no change in how I felt, the nurse came in to check me again and called for another nurse to come check me as well. I was deemed the “Silent Dilator” – I was 6 cm dilated and 70% effaced! I was in active labor now – though I couldn’t really tell the difference. Up until then, the contractions had been barely there and completely manageable.

They told me to try and get some sleep and if I couldn’t, to let them know and I’d move around some. I was getting ready to call the nurse when the contractions finally subsided and I managed to sleep for about four and a half hours.

They checked me in the morning, 7 cm and 70% effaced, and pitocin entered the conversation again. My doctor went ahead and broke my water about 9 am, and the nurse said,”Okay, we’ll let that kind of settle and then we’ll get the pitocin going.”

My body said nope. This is happening now. I got out of bed and the contractions started intensifying. Mum and I played a few games of backgammon and put on Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries. I used to wall to help me through the contractions. All of a sudden, I was crying through one and knew this was happening. As in: birth was imminent.

That pain is something I could never have imagined. I wanted a natural birth; I was getting one. I wasn’t sure I could have done anything to prepare me for what a contraction, a true contraction, really felt like. I used the birthing ball, the wall, the bed, the birthing ball on the bed. I wound up in the bed, as my feet were starting to ache.

At 9 cm and “we’re going to have you start pushing,” my mom, crying over seeing me in pain as I said over and over that I didn’t know what to do, I needed it to stop, told me that I could say the safe word and get an epidural. I said it, “Pineapple.”

I had the best nurse ever. We’d had the conversation earlier and she went right to it, telling me that I could do it, it’s not going to help much at this point, and baby is coming.

And that’s the thing – I remembered reading things and seeing stories about when the woman is ready to give up, the baby is ready to come.

My doc got set up and offered fentanyl to take the edge off and I, admittedly, jumped at it. I screamed through the pain and my doctor told me, in her calm, cool tone, that I needed to not scream, I was putting my energy in the wrong place. Then she said, “That pain you’re feeling right now? You need to not be afraid of it.” And I was, I had been absolutely terrified of it.

At 11:43am on March 23rd, 2020, Little Man entered the world and won my heart.
He has severe bilateral clubfoot, a head full of curly brown hair, and the sweetest little face I’ve ever seen in my life.

I had a 2nd degree tear and the pride of doing it almost completely natural. The recovery was rough, and I was unfortunately unable to breastfeed beyond a couple days as my supply just never came in.

But, my God, I am so in love with my Little Man.

27 weeks, 4 days

Good morning, everyone!

So, I realized that I had written up a 19 week update, and never posted it. Terribly sorry about that! The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity. I can hardly believe that this upcoming Sunday is the start of my third trimester!

As such, so many things are happening. I have something going on every weekend in January, except the last, but that last week has me with appointments and dog care and, oof. Just a lot.

My last specialist appointment (yes, I am seeing a specialist, but it is a different one than before, much MUCH nicer), he said that he doesn’t think I’ll have to do any insulin.

However, at the appointment at the beginning of December, I did get some news. It looks like my beautiful baby boy has bilateral club foot. This may be why I didn’t update, as the news hit me sideways and was difficult for me to handle. So much is going to be different, and yet nothing will be. From everything I’ve researched, it will be completely treated and healed by age 5, and in that time frame, he won’t miss any of his milestones, even through casting for 4-6 weeks and full time bar and boots wearing for three months minimum.

It’s the small things that worry me, though. But my sister in law has been amazingly helpful – she has found so many resources for me. There’s a website that has so many tips and tricks and how to take care of what should be normal.

Then, the ex. I finally cut off communication with the ex a couple months ago, when his commentary became nothing but gaslighting and guilting. He was trying to manipulate me, suddenly making my pain into his, and making me the villain. He even spread blatant lies about myself and my mother! So I just ended it and blocked him. He then announced on Facebook that he was going to commit suicide. It took a lot not to open back up to him, but looking at my blood sugars during that time proves I did the right thing. It took a lot to stop feeling guilty, but he had friends get to him and he is fine. He reached out again last week and wanted to open up communication again, saying he finally understands why I broke up with him, and that he had really been looking forward to being a dad. I appreciated the sentiment, but there was just a bit too much guilt, and having seen what he’d been pulling on my other friends left me knowing that opening up communication is not the right move. So I told him to come to the game we play, and I would just avoid him, and that I would not be unblocking him.

He then asked if he could email me. I said no, that I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for it.

The panic I felt when he asked that, knowing how difficult it is for me to say no…I knew I made the right decision. I have been relieved since then, for the most part.

I know we’ll still travel in the same circles, I know we’ll see each other, but I honestly am happier since leaving him. And this baby, hard as I worked for him, is so much of a blessing that I cannot be sad.

On to the family! It’s no secret that my dad’s family are comprised of not my most favorite people. I have always felt judged when I see them, so I knew, going into family Christmas pregnant and single would garner a few comments. I had announced on Facebook, and my dad, aunt, and cousin knew, so I assumed the news would have spread.

It didn’t. They had told no one. Here I am, 6 months pregnant, and having to go through the choice I made and journey I’m taking on my own, watching the judgment slide across their faces. It was a strange sort of humiliation and anger. Then the question, “is that a family name?” Oh, come on. You have been part of this family longer than me, you know my Celtic name for my baby is not a family name. That was just another way to include your disapproval. My brother’s words finally hit me where they needed to, and I am not going back to my dad’s family Christmas. I don’t need their negativity, and I certainly don’t need them hurting my son the way they hurt my brother and I growing up.

Which takes me to my next point. My dad’s cousin, who I see maybe once per year, at the aforementioned Christmas, has decided she wants to hold me a baby shower. I was baffled for a few moments, and wanted to say no because of the shower my mom, friend, and sister in law are holding for me. But then…what if they come to this one, and then NOT my lovely shower? Get the stress done with so I can truly enjoy myself. I’ll still invite them; I need to be kind and proper.

So, this next Sunday is my first of three (maybe four) baby showers. This one is going to be hard, and I can feel how my mood is already changed as I get ready for it. I’m crankier, shorter with my responses. I just need to get through and relax. I can do this, and I’ve got two more amazingly fun showers to look forward to – one, my chosen family, two, my wonderful LARP friends, and possibly a third at work.

Wish me luck.

14 week Update!

It has been so long since I’ve updated you, world! I’m so sorry, things have just gotten so crazy since my last.

First, I did a NIPT (Non Invasive Prenatal Testing) test to tell me if baby would have any chromosomal abnormalities (like Down’s, Turner’s, etc.). They all came back negative, which means baby has a very low risk (1 in 10,000)!

It also told me baby’s gender, which I wasn’t allowed to know until last Saturday even though the tests came back last Monday. In the middle of that, I got to have my three hour glucose test for Gestational Diabetes since I failed my one hour.

I failed that one, too, so I got to see a Specialist and a Dietitian.

But then Saturday! Guess what, all! It’s a BOY!

The Specialist was first and it was…awful. He was really demeaning and sounded like he was kind of tired of this process and hopeless. He said that I was probably diabetic and not diagnosed (my numbers have always been fine, I get them checked every six months), he made a c-section sound inevitable, and he also said he will likely take me up to 4 weeks early. To name a few choice morsels. He kept saying “someone like you” about ten times, and it was always in a “you should expect this” kind of tone.

I went out to the car with mum (thank goodness she was with me), and bawled. This was all after I got to see an ultrasound of my baby boy. So all that wonderful good feeling he eked away.

Oh, but he was moving. The baby was moving so much! He lifted his chin like “hey, ‘sup” and waved his long arms and omg he was beautiful. I am so so so in love with him, which is so surreal.

Since I was feeling so crappy after seeing the Specialist (who I will not be seeing again. I will definitely be moving to someone else.), mum and I went to Target and added some boy clothes to the registry, then to WalMart and wound up picking up some absolutely adorable outfits. I’m still in shock that I’m going to be a boy mom. It’s surreal – I was expecting to have a girl mostly because everyone else has been having boys! I was expecting to be disappointed, but I’m really not, which is a relief. I’m just so happy he’s doing well.

I just have to watch what I eat for us.

The Dietitian I saw was the polar opposite of the Specialist. She was amazing, and really understanding. She got me the meter I need to track my blood sugar and just sat down and gave me a good game plan that I’m trying hard to follow. My blood sugar is mostly nice and low. After lunch was the worst, but I have a feeling that was because of my Star Crunch that I had as a dessert. Apparently, I’m not allowed sweets which really sucks.

So that’s the big baby update! I hope you’re doing well out there, and I hope you have a great weekend! My energy is back in full force and this weekend I head down to the Renaissance Faire to hang out with my LARP friends. ❤ Taking full advantage!