Beauty sleep. I mean, the beauty of sleep.

For as long as anyone can remember, I have been a big fan of 8 consecutive hours of sleep at night. It may very well be the hallmark of who I am. In college, I baffled roommates and sorority sisters because I much preferred things like pre-midnight bedtimes to raging keggers. I have truly always been an "early to bed, early to rise" kind of girl. And, should I not get 8 hours of sleep at night it is not a pretty picture. Too few or too many and I go a little wacky. I guess it's necessary for my mental stability.

So, I was understandably concerned for my well being and that of my unborn child as I read the pregnancy and baby books. Newborns have day-night confusion, they need to eat every 2 hours (for upwards of an hour), and mothers should try to sleep when their babies sleep. Yeah, in that 1 to 1.5 hours between feedings when you have things like eating, drinking, bathing, or dog tending to do. Anyway, I was a little anxious about how I was ever going to sleep. Again.

They tell you to get as much sleep as you can in the hospital, because once you're home all hell will break loose. I think I slept a total of 2 hours in the three days I was there. I started to feel like a mental patient--confined to a smallish room with only a hospital gown and robe to wear, obsessing over my new little baby. Then, there were the constant interruptions by nurses and medical techs because, of course, at 3 am we must have your temperature! When we could finally bring Zoe home, I actually looked forward to more sleep because it would only be Zoe waking me up.

I'd say the first week was pretty much hell. We hadn't gotten the hang of breastfeeding, she was inconsolably cranky at night, and no one was getting rest. Even the dog was bleary-eyed. Since, then, I'm starting to think Zoe got her mom's sleep habits.

At almost five weeks old, Zoe is getting the bulk of her sleep at night. We usually are able to put her down between 7:30 and 8:30 and she will sleep until at least midnight. After that, she'll usually sleep another 3-4 hours. It's a little unbelievable. And, I will add, this is not because we've "trained" her. There is simply no way to sleep train a baby this young. They are cognitively and developmentally not ready for anything like that. The most BJ and I have done is paid attention to our sleep bible--we make efforts to limit Zoe's awake time to 2 hours and try to preserve a calm, quiet, sleepy time between 5 and 8 pm. Oh, and we NEVER WAKE A SLEEPING BABY.

For all the difficulties we've had with Princess Fuss Butt, this is one of our greatest blessings. I can get through the most difficult days simply because I know I will have at least four hours of uninterrupted sleep each night. With BJ helping do night feedings (ladies: if you can, get your man to do this. He takes the first feeding while I pump, so I only have to get up and stay awake 15 minutes in the middle of the night . . . and I can stay in bed!), we are both able to sleep so much more. Even the dog is faring better.

Oh, the sleep--it is so good. Now, if we can just get this little one to nap a little better during the day. As in, anytime between 6 am and 1 pm. I can't figure it--she just does not want to sleep at all during that time! Grrr . . . .

Fuss Butt

The worst thing about having an extremely fussy baby--aside from the fact that they always make you out to be a liar when other people are around--is grief. Grief over the loss of your fantasy baby. Every pregnant woman dreams about all the precious moments to come with her baby. I can remember longing for quiet, cuddly moments, taking naps together. I had dreams about how relaxed and natural nursing would be. I envisioned us cozied up in the nursery arm chair, me reading a novel aloud to her. I had this image of a peaceful, happy baby and me being very tired but equally blissful.

Of course, everyone tends to romanticize what having a newborn is like. No one dreams of dirty diapers or 2 am feedings. But, there is nothing that can prepare you for a fussy baby. A baby who cries no matter what you do. And, not just cries--screams, like you are ripping their arms from their sockets. All the reading in baby books you do mentions fussiness (sometimes they say colic), but it's not so common. So, what did I do? Gloss over that part. Our "sleep bible" tells us that only 20% of babies are extremely fussy. Your brain simply plays the odds. Until that fussiness shows its ugly head.

Zoe has been super-crabby for two full days, now. Yesterday, the longest she would sleep was 20 minutes, and the only time she wasn't wailing was when there was a nipple in her mouth, real or silicone. I don't think she's colicky. From what I've read and heard, those babies are inconsolable for apparently no reason. We're pretty sure Zoe is fussy because of her completely irregular BMs. She's uncomfortable almost all the time in almost any position. When she's uncomfortable, she screams. She gets herself so worked up that she chokes, spits up, goes hoarse, even scratches her eyes. There seems to be a direct correlation between how many days it has been since her last poop and how fussy she is. Until today, anyway, because she is behaving as if she never pooped last night.

She's been in her swing, in the Snugli, propped on the Boppy, nursed, fed bottles, had a pacifier, gone for walks in the stroller, had belly rubs, done bicycle legs, and even got prodded again with the thermometer. That last one seemed to finally trigger something, but still she fusses. This morning, I have fed her anywhere between 2 and 4 ounces of breastmilk every hour. Some, she has spit up, but definitely not all. I'm afraid it's this horrible cycle: she can't poop and her gut hurts so she wants to eat/suck to feel better, she eats too much, her belly hurts, she spits up and feels empty, she eats more, her poor bowels can't handle all the intake so her gut hurts and she can't poop.

And, so I grieve. I mourn the loss of the fantasy I had of sleepy, peaceful mornings together. Zoe has not once woken up in any manner other than wailing. I'm sad over the loss of quiet and alert times, when I can show her books, toys, the world. I'm pained each time she nurses and then cries because she is apparently not satisfied, even though I know how much I'm producing and how much she's eating. And, I grieve because our relationship has become one of desperate soothing--what can I do to make her feel better or stop crying? It was only a fantasy, and yet its a loss.

I love her. That is one truth of parenthood that is incomprehensible until you hold your child. How much you can love a single being. It breaks my heart on a daily basis when I can't make it better. When I see her so uncomfortable and her big eyes look right at me like she is pleading for me to make the pain go away. But, apparently, I can't. At least, I have not yet found the one thing that either consistently soothes her or makes her poop. More grief.

To all my friends who have not yet had children, I can offer one kernel of wisdom on this difficult morning: throw out all your idealized notions of parenting. Hope and pray for a beautiful, healthy, happy baby. But, try to prepare yourselves (get reinforcements!) for some of those "slim" possibilities.

Zoe, 1 Month Old

Zoe, 1 Month Old
Originally uploaded by KLLippoldt.

Dear Zoe,

Have four weeks really come and gone? I know that from here on out you will be hearing this a lot, but, boy! Where does the time go? The other morning, as I lay in bed awaiting your call and your dad was getting ready for work, we were talking about this funny thing called time. It's hard for us to believe a month has gone by, but, at the same time, those first days seem like aeons ago. Remember when you refused to sleep at night? And your dad and I paced the floor with you, trying to get you to stop crying? We weren't sure we would survive, any of us. But, here we are with our champion night-sleeper. We're still working on those daytime naps, though, aren't we?

Everyone with children told us to just wait until your personality started to show. A time would come when you were doing more than eating and sleeping. Over the past week, I've watched you slowly become interested in what's going on around you . . . and not just when your next meal was coming. For the first time, I saw you transfixed by your mobile. You followed the little cow all the way around its circuit. We played with a rattle, and you stayed interested for more than a split second.

People seem to be the one thing that really comfort and fascinate you. You met all the great people I work with at the high school, and were just so interested in what was happening. You carefully study me and your dad when we're feeding or talking to you. And, since you're not sleeping so much during the day, you're awake for us to notice these things!

We're still struggling to get your feeding routines down. But, each day I see you mature a little more. You're awake longer when we're nursing, and not so frantic at the start. You even burp better! What has given me the greatest joy, though, was when you smiled at me. True, social smiling usually begins around six weeks. So, you probably weren't smiling at me. But, last week when I was feeling frustrated and unsure of myself, you looked me in the eyes and smiled. It was the one thing I needed at that moment to get me back on track. Since then, you've smiled at my face a few times. Whether you feel happy or gas, I tell myself it's because you are contented.

Because, someday, you'll really be able to tell me. And, I hope I like the answer!

Love,
Momma

Nanny Nala

Guard dog
Originally uploaded by KLLippoldt.

I've mentioned before how Nala has taken to guarding Zoe. When we have tummy time, and Zoe is on the floor, Nala will try to either place herself between me and Zoe or lick and tend to her like she's a newborn puppy. In this picture, Nala had just checked on Zoe (who had stretched and sighed), then plopped herself down right in front of the swing. A few nights ago, when we had a big thunderstorm, Nala woke up and went into the nursery to check on Zoe. She then curled up in the bathroom outside Zoe's door.

Given the fact that Nala has not demonstrated very "nice" behaviors with children before, we were pretty unsure about how she would react to Zoe. Our best case scenario was that she would ignore her. Aside from eating one of Zoe's bibs (hey, it tasted like milk!), she has been perfect.

I guess if we're going to have a fussy baby to deal with, a mellow, protective dog is a godsend!

Kodak moment

Kodak moment
Originally uploaded by KLLippoldt.

So Oprah, in commenting on the "lie" that is celebrity life, remarked that we (ordinary people) only have pictures of those "perfect" moments in our lives. When everyone is smiling, well dressed and things are going smoothly, we snap a picture. We don't record the strife, upset, or "dirty" moments.

Well, Oprah. You're wrong. BJ shot this photo last night when Zoe's poop strike ended with a bang.

How's that for a Kodak moment?

3 Weeks

22 Days Old
Originally uploaded by KLLippoldt.

Dear Zoe,

Well, sweetheart, you did it! You were ordered to put on more weight and, man, did you ever. Over the past week your dad and I have stuffed you silly. Your stomach must be unbelievably accommodating, because you ate more than I could have dreamed you would. Breast milk, formula, bottle, breast . . . you don't care! Just feed you! And all that eating paid off, because you packed on over a pound in a week. I argue that you were just saving it up. Hiding it somewhere just to keep us on our toes.

I never fully realized how quickly babies grow. The way you change daily is mesmerizing to me. As we stuffed you this past week, you literally grew before our eyes. Your tummy puffed, your little legs chunked up, even your hands are bigger. When we brought you home, I couldn't imagine that you'd ever be bigger than you were. Let alone that it would happen so fast. On the bright side, you're filling out your 0-3 month outfits better. And, your socks aren't falling off (getting kicked off, yes, but not falling).

To our amazement, you decided to roll over the other day. Your dad and I were stunned. What is this barely 3-week old baby doing rolling from her tummy to her back? It was probably a fluke, but we praised you nonetheless and tried to get you to do it again. You tried! When we set you down for some exercise, we just marvel at how determined you are to GO. You squirm and kick and contort with so much gusto. Even when you start to cry with frustration ("Why can't I crawl outta here?!?"), we can only smile and cheer you on. You'll be able to wriggle away from us soon enough. So, stay and play awhile.

You also had your first holiday this week--Easter. The Easter bunny doesn't have much meaning for you, nor does Easter itself. But, we dolled you up and took you over to Gram and Grandpa's for dinner. You charmed the socks off of your grandparents neighbors. And, you met your great-grandmother for the first time. As soon as I placed you in her arms, you fell fast asleep. So comfortable! I hope you are able to get to know your great-grandma when you are a little older. But, she is almost 103 years old . . . I hope we're able to share with you what an amazing lady she is.

I must tell you that this week was also the first time your dad and I got out of the house, together, without you! Gram and grandpa came over to watch you, and we had lunch at Portillo's (which you will love someday, young lady) and did some shopping. As we ate our lunch, your dad remarked on how strange it was to not have you there. We weren't worried about you--your grandparents had it under control. We missed you. I kept looking over at the other chair expecting your car seat to be there. You have completed our family, and we certainly cannot do without you!

Since everything for you right now is a first, we can't forget your first shopping experiences. The weather was gorgeous this past week, so I took advantage of it and your portability to get outside. You've now been introduced to: shoe shopping, outlet malls, public nursing, restaurant dining, and sale hunting. You were asleep for most of it, but it did mom some good to hang out with friends and be around other people. Besides, the fresh air was good for you! Be assured that you can look forward to many more such trips--Eleanor needs stroller company!

All my love,
Momma

The Eating Machine

Would we have expected anything less of our child? That she have a voracious appetite and want constant nourishing?

Yesterday, I made a rather difficult decision to supplement Zoe's diet with formula. I think BJ may have struggled with why this was so hard for me to decide, but, then again, he's not the one with the breasts. It turns out, the doctor wants Zoe putting on more weight. Her never-ending plea for sustenance has not been her just being fussy--she's hungry! I started out the week determined to up my milk production, pump more, give her bottles of breastmilk when I couldn't nurse . . . keep giving her only my food. By Tuesday night, I was exhausted, sore, and breaking down. We'd reached the end of our back-up supply of breastmilk and, while it seemed my supply was slowly trying to catch up, my tender body parts were still getting used to the Hoover that is Zoe. I just couldn't keep on the way I was and remain sane (or nourished, or rested, or hydrated myself, all of which impacts supply!). So, yesterday morning, I busted out the can of soy Similac we got as a freebie in the mail.

It's the irrational thoughts and overly high expectations that made this decision so difficult. Obviously, it's the right thing to do for Zoe! She needs more food (and time to eat it) than I can give. I'm not stopping breast feeding, just adding onto it. But, there's still guilt and this sense of failure. I mean, the reason we have breasts is to feed our babies--so why can't I give mine what she needs? And, we're told it's supposed to be this beautiful, bonding experience with your baby. That's all well and good, but when I'm tied down to the same chair for hours on end with no opportunity to go to the bathroom or get water . . . I feel like an awful mother for just wanting it to be over. Don't get me wrong--I do enjoy nursing Zoe. I love talking and singing to her, watching her face, holding her hands. But as twenty minutes drags into thirty minutes, forty minutes on the same breast, and the time I have between feedings shrinks ever shorter, it becomes a chore. And I started to dread that chore. I never anticipated being the equivalent of an IV drip for my daughter, and I feel cheated that we have one more thing that is not living up to its hype.

I so wanted this to work. I so wanted to be this glowing picture of motherhood and femininity, with my baby cradled to my breast. And, it's a little dagger that it's not turning out that way. Silly, yes. Too much pressure on myself? Definitely. It took a night of BJ being able to help feed Zoe and me actually sleeping/eating/drinking to admit it: I need help, I can't do it on my own, and, most importantly, it's what Zoe needs right now.

Twenty four hours later, I feel a lot better about the choice. I know it's not a major, life-altering decision. But, as new mom, it feels pretty substantial. Before she came, I had it in my mind that I would never give Zoe formula. I got choked up in the hospital when they started supplementing due to the jaundice. I was ecstatic when we were told we could stop that. And, now we're back. Yet, it is this amazing feeling to know that an hour after I last nursed her I don't have to try and dredge up my reserves to feed her again. I can grab a bottle. Or, better yet, BJ can grab a bottle and feed her.

BJ is really happy with our switch because he can help. I think it was killing him to watch us struggle and not be able to do anything. And, because of her never-ending feeding schedule, BJ was spending next to no time with his baby girl. He'd say, "Tell me when she wakes up so I can see her." But, when she'd wake up, she would want a diaper change and food. Now, he can take a greater part in all of that. The sounds of him talking to her over the monitor tells me he enjoys it. It makes me glad that, in accepting help, I could give him something in return. Precious time with Zoe!

Oh, so true

I couldn't have said it better myself:

When you have a child, life changes. There’s no way around it and, frankly, this should come as no surprise to anyone with half a brain. If you thought that you or your significant other was just putting on a few pounds in the shape of a beachball, your geese aren’t flying in a perfect V. If you don’t appreciate the fact that the very fabric out of which your life is woven will be irrevocably altered, it’s time to get off the meth and into a rehab program. I’m not trying to scare prospective parents, just telling the truth. Your life won’t be the same. Suck it up.

The truth is, there isn’t one big change. It’s not like the kid gets squeezed from a set of loins - boom - big change, angels singing from on-high, life is different, you’re done. No. It’s one big-ass change followed by hundreds if not thousands of little ones. Let’s say your daughter learns to take a bottle. Your nighttime feeding routine is now forever altered. The male member of the family will never sleep through the night again. Or, she learns to pee whenever her diaper is taken off. Your everyday around-the-house attire now consists of yellow fishermen’s rain gear and a snorkel. For every milestone reached, there is an equal and opposite parental milestone.

Thanks to Rude Cactus on DadCentric.com.

2 Weeks

2 Weeks
Originally uploaded by KLLippoldt.

Dear Zoe,

Another week has flown by, and we've had no end to the charm, frustration, and love of getting to know you. Your dad was saying just last night that he thought you were getting more mature! Oh, don't be in such a hurry. Because, you're starting to make me sound just like my mom!

Your physical development absolutely astounds us. You are so strong, powerful really, that we can't believe we're handling a 2-week-old infant. Since the day you were born, I think you decided to defy what "science" said were appropriate developmental milestones. Lifting your head? Well, you pretty much had that mastered on day 2. Now we watch in amazement as you follow objects with your eyes (including us!), swivel your head around while you're on your tummy, and try to stand on our legs! I thought you were more powerful than most babies when I was carrying you--there is just no way baby kicks should have hurt so much--and now I know it's true. Our favorite trick of yours is when you crawl up our chests. You will have nothing of this "resting peacefully" business when we cuddle. It's all about summitting Mom & Dad to stare us in the face . . . ostensibly to demand food.

And, food you shall have! The doctor says you probably aren't getting enough--and thus, no poop! I don't know where it's going to come from, kid, but we're ramping up production at the milk factory. All for you! Despite the fact that we thought you were eating your fill (and murdering mommy's breasts in the process), you apparently need more. I'm assuming it's part of your scheme to conquer the world in under a year. We know you're certainly capable.

What you've also learned to do this week is to let your Mom & Dad sleep. In the past 3 days, it's no longer as important to you to scream and fuss all night. To demand to be held or soothed. You know like to have your meal and be put right into your crib for upwards of 3 hours. It is a wonderful change, of which we're grateful. You've probably only noticed that mom is no longer so tense. But, I can't tell you what a little sleep (and relief that you're not sick or broken!) can do to help me cope with all the changes you're going through. We have a lot more fun in the few moments you're awake, don't we?

You may only be 2 weeks old, but your dad and I have started your cultural education already. You may not explicitly remember it all in a few years, but perhaps one day you'll come up with a fact about Star Trek: Next Generation that you didn't realize you knew. Your dad's been dictating episodes to you as you watch together in the evenings. And, of course, you and I have started reading Harry Potter in the mornings. My English accent is pretty horrid--you'll have to have Aunt Beth or Aunt Vicki do a better job--but you seem to enjoy listening.

Someday, I'm sure listening will be the last thing you'll want to do. But, for now, I love when you look straight into my eyes when I talk to you. You seem to be concentrating so hard. All I can do is smile. Or, when I tell you to wake up while you're nursing and you give a little half-hearted suck. You probably haven't understood a word, but to me it's like you're playing with me. And, I laugh.

I'm sure we make you laugh, too. Is that what you're thinking when you're dreaming away?

Love,
Momma

Baby Zoe

Baby Zoe
Originally uploaded by elephant15.

Taken with mom's camera.

. . . so doth he taketh away

Or, "Don't count your chickens until they've hatched."

Wednesday was awesome. Zoe miraculously developed this perfect sleep/wake schedule, ate regularly, was cheery when she was up, and slept independently in her crib. And just as suddenly, Thursday arrived with a complete about-face. The Princess had returned to claim her place.

Princess Fuss Butt.

It's ridiculous, but that's all I could think to call her yesterday. I was (and still am, but getting better) exhausted. I had not set her down in over 3 hours, during which time she'd been nursing off and on. I was literally and figuratively drained, hadn't eaten anything myself, and needed a shower--it had been 2 days. What on earth could be wrong with my little girl that made her scream so? I couldn't fathom she was truly hungry, but her persistent mouth was always there begging for more. It was the only time she was calm, so what could I do?

Why is it that when she cries, I feel as if she is calling me all the worst names in the book? As if she's saying, "You dumb lady--I just want/need X" where X is some perfectly obvious and reasonable request. Like, "Mom, you haven't showered and I don't want to be cradled under your arm," or some other such nonsense. And that's when I start to cry, and we're together a bunch of bawling idiots sitting on the couch in front of Maury Povich.

The poop had (has?) stopped--she's backed up and uncomfortable, and there's nothing I can do. I realize this. But it's the love that makes me crazy. Oh yeah, and the hormones. Those blasted little biochemicals that make a mom physically frantic when her baby cries. Why is BJ better able to calm Zoe? Other than the fact that he doesn't have breasts--there's no expectation that she's going to be soothed by milk--it's that he's not getting wound up like I am.

In the middle of the night last night, when her wailing had gone on for nearly 80 minutes straight, I had to walk away because I could not catch my breath. My heart was pounding. I was anxious and couldn't relax. Why would Zoe be able to calm down with me? I'm sure she knows when I'm tense just as I know when she is. "I know I'm not hungry, just give me the nipple!" she pleads.

It's now 8:15 on Friday morning. After a horribly long, arduous Thursday, Zoe let both BJ and I sleep nearly 3 hours straight last night. Princess Fuss Butt stepped in for the early morning shift, but Zoe seems to have taken her place since her 5:00 am feeding. She's still asleep, and we're going to leave it that way. Her best chance at pooping comes when she's that relaxed. Hopefully we'll root out all the formula and bilirubin in the next day or so, and we can bid goodbye to Princess Fuss Butt.

At least until Zoe starts to teethe.

We have poop!

The heavens be praised! Poop has descended from the gods and arrived gift-wrapped in a Pampers diaper!

OK, so the last thing I want this blog to be is an overly detailed run-down of every little bodily function Zoe performs. Who wants to know that? But, good grief--the cha cha! This kid was so backed up, it's no wonder she wasn't sleeping. But, at 1:11 this morning (BJ starred it in our feeding/diapering log) Zoe's horrible stinky gas and painful groans produced.

A dung beatle would have been overwhelmed with her load. After all that, she's now going on 6 hours of sleep (with only 2 feeding interruptions). And mom slept more than 30 minutes consecutively.

Amen.

Note: So as not to confuse Bethie--posts may not be written on the day on which they are posted. Due to the demands of motherhood, many posts are now getting interrupted and may go live well after they were started. We apologize for any skewing of chronology that results.

Week One

Dimples!
Originally uploaded by KLLippoldt.

Dear Zoe,

On Monday, you reached a week old. Your dad and I could not believe it--a week had passed already! I commented at dinner last night, as you slept peacefully upstairs, that we'd be saying that for the next 30 years.

You've had quite a go of it this past week. Being forced into the world when you were happy to bounce around inside me. Turning yellow and staying in the hospital without mom or dad. The heel pricks! Zoe, I don't think I could have handled all those sticks. I know your dad couldn't. But, as your dad says, "You're a trooper." A strong woman, for sure.

You've given us quite a few worries, too. How quickly you've entangled yourself in our hearts and minds . . . we can't help but worry! Your fussiness of late, and not sleeping, has gotten both of us crying. And waiting for the poop! When in my life have I ever thought human excrement was an event worth waiting for? It's clear you've been in pain--that darn formula they made us give you for the jaundice. You just weren't ready for it--oh, you ate it. Boy, did you ever! But your little body didn't know what to do with it. And so, I beg your apologies for the intrusive thermometer the past 2 days. It was not something I wanted to do, and maybe someday you'll realize the importance of fiber in your diet (don't use Dad's eating as an example).

But, it is in moments like this one that all the worry, tears, and frustration coalesce into pure love. I can live through 20 hour stretches of sleeplessness just to see you comfortable and calm for 4. To have your warm weight in my arms, even your fingers tangled in my hair.

Dad and I look forward to learning all about you. Thanks for taking us on this journey.

Love,
Mom

The Birth Story . . . or, "How I came to deliver on my due date"

Monday, March 27th started off like any other day off of work. I got to sleep in a little, let the dog out, even straightened my hair. If you've read anything of this blog, you'll remember my thoughts about when I'd actually go into labor. As in, "Come on, already!" but I was sure it wouldn't be for a while. I planned to get a mani and pedi that afternoon, work on thank you notes, and tidy up the house. I had a doctor's appointment scheduled that morning for 9:00 am, and hoped to have made some progress but fully expected to be told "Same story, just hang in there." Boy, was I wrong.

Everything started off routine at the doctor: urine sample, weight and blood pressure check, get ready for the internal exam. I was not seeing my primary physician because she was out of town, but had met with this doctor once before. She checks: still same dilation and effacement. No change. She practically assaulted me to strip my membranes (manually separate the amniotic sac from the cervix, supposed to stimulate contractions)--that hurt!--and had me dress for an ultrasound. Apparently, that and a non-stress test (NST, to measure any contractions) are routine once you make it to 40 weeks with no baby. Turns out, my amniotic fluid was low and she says "It looks like today may be the day!" I would need to be induced because she didn't think we should wait for this baby. While I got hooked up to the monitors for the NST, she called over to labor and delivery to see when they could fit me in. Literally 2 minutes later--the nurse didn't even get finished hooking me up!--doctor comes in and says, "They can take you right now, go call your husband." What?!?

What was so whirlwind at that moment is that my doctors' offices are on the same floor, around the corner, from the maternity ward. So, I did not have time to go home. I didn't have my hospital bags, the house was not what I would have conisdered "baby ready", BJ was at work, the dog . . . what were we going to do about the dog? In 10 minutes' time (it was roughly 9:40), I was changed and hooked up to the IV for fluids and penicilin. Very surreal, and not what I imagined the start of my birthing experience to be. Have I mentioned you cannot have any expectations or plans regarding when/how your baby comes? Because I learned that lesson good!

BJ arrived, my mom arrived, and I still planned on trying to go medication free. I was told we'd be running the pitocin slow--and I had started contracting "on my own" from the strip-- so we would have our baby by maybe early evening. Once I'd received enough penicilin (for group B strep), the doctor arrived to break my water at 11:22 am. Apparently, I had a "very tough bag". Her words, so, Anne, you were right! Shortly thereafter, the pitocin really started kicking in and I did my best to breathe through. BJ was a champ, watching the monitor and telling me when I'd peaked. My poor mother could not stand to watch me grimace, but it was nice having someone else to stroke my hand or cool me off. I think it was nearly 2:00 when I just couldn't take it anymore. As BJ tells it, he thinks the nurse was upping the pit too quickly--I don't know. I just know that all of a sudden the contractions were coming hard, quickly, and I could not relax. Get me the damn epidural!

They did a quick check of my cervix--I'd gotten to 5 cm, so we were good to go. God bless the anestesiologist, and even our nurse. She was a bit brusque, had some BO, BJ didn't like her, but she was overweight and soft. I could not imagine having anything else to lean into while I'm contracting like crazy and staying perfectly still for the epidural. There was a student nurse observing at the time, and so the doctor was explaining everything he was doing in detail. I actually found that comforting--something else to focus on, I guess. About 7 contractions later, I was feeling a lot calmer and capable.

And the fun begins. We notice those contractions are coming, and pretty strong (but, by now, I'm cool as a cucumber). I feel a bit like I have some pressure, but I've been doped--what do I know? Then, baby's heart rate starts jumping around. Not good. They slam the oxygen mask on me and order me to breathe deeply. I thought I was! That was frustrating and scary; what was wrong with Peanut? I get rolled on my side and they check my dilation again--10 cm and baby is completely crowing! Mind you, this was about 10 minutes after getting the epidural. Thank God they finished when they did! At the literal push of a button, there are nurses, techs and my doctor all scrambling into the room. It's time to push this baby out . . . except, when I get situated to push, she's popped back up inside me again.

It turns out, Zoe was all tangled up in the cord and just bungeeing up and down. She'd descend as far as she could, then get snapped back up again. The doctor had to use the vacuum to help keep her descended as I pushed. There was a gory moment, which I won't detail, when BJ nearly passed out. But, after roughly 10 minutes of pushing we had our baby girl! She was thoroughly pink (the cord was wrapped, but around her leg, body, and neck so there wasn't any choking) and it actually took the doctor a moment to untangle her to determine if she was a boy or girl! I couldn't believe how much hair she had, or how perfect she looked. It truly was a miraculous moment . . . even if it was nothing I'd anticipated.