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Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
hmmm...
So, they say when you choose a career path in nursing, that you generally choose one that has affected you deeply. I have always known that I wanted to go into women's health. That was a given. This past two weeks has definitely solidified that, but it's added to it as well. See, this past two weeks, I have been at war with my boobs. I want to exclusively breastfeed, but I am simply not producing enough milk. Rowan nurses on both sides, and still comes away hungry. Not to mention, the case of jaundice and dehydration that kept us in the hospital for two days last week. One good thing did come of that though. I met a wonderful lactation consultant. She was very kind and patient, and worked with me to get Rowan's latch correct, showed me some tricks with the pump, and encouraged me to keep going despite cracked purple nipples. Yesterday I went to a lactation support group, and was again met with kindness and patience. The consultant even helped me to obtain a hospital grade breast pump despite the fact that the WIC office I was using said (bitchily, I might add) that no one in the state had them.
I think this is what I want to do. I want to help people, I want to empower women to trust their bodies. I mean c'mon, I have the pain threshold of a four year old, and I was still able to have a natural childbirth (minus that icky experience with Fentanyl, but luckily that didn't last long). It was pretty funny yesterday, all the girls in the lactation group looked at me funny when I said that I didn't have an epidural, and that next time I was going completely drug free.
I think this is what I want to do. I want to help people, I want to empower women to trust their bodies. I mean c'mon, I have the pain threshold of a four year old, and I was still able to have a natural childbirth (minus that icky experience with Fentanyl, but luckily that didn't last long). It was pretty funny yesterday, all the girls in the lactation group looked at me funny when I said that I didn't have an epidural, and that next time I was going completely drug free.
Monday, February 21, 2011
11 days...
Wow, almost two weeks have gone by since my Sugar Booger was born. I can’t believe how fast it has gone by. I have many reasons for not being able to write sooner. One, I am now a slave to my boobs. I am having trouble with my supply coming in, so I am constantly pumping, feeding, rinse, repeat. Another, I’m back in the classroom. There is no way I’m going to stop school when I am this close to my RN. I only have a few months to go. Luckily, I have a wonderfully supportive husband who brings Rowan to me on my long day at school.
The biggest thing that kept me from writing was a two-day stay in the hospital last week. In my obsessive need to breastfeed, I failed to see that my son was getting dehydrated due to my lack of supply. I ended up with a crazy fussy baby, and was wandering the house, curious about where this demonspawn had come from. Finally on Sunday, I realized that he was dehydrated, based on lack of dirty diapers, so I sent my husband out for formula. I cried giving it to him. He took the bottle like a champ, but it was too little too late. The dehydration had exacerbated the jaundice he was experiencing, and he was admitted to the hospital the next day. After about 36 hours under the UV lamp, his bilirubin levels had returned to normal, and the IV had done the trick. We were discharged on Wednesday, early enough in the day to go home and get some stuff done, and we haven’t had any relapses. Booger is still latching on really well, and taking the bottle like a champ. I did order a supplemental nursing system to decrease the likelihood of nipple confusion. I’m just very happy to have my calm baby who only cries for diapers back.
I’m having delayed milk production, so I have to keep trying. I’m not giving up till they dry up completely. I’ll be attending a support group starting Wednesday so wish me luck!
The biggest thing that kept me from writing was a two-day stay in the hospital last week. In my obsessive need to breastfeed, I failed to see that my son was getting dehydrated due to my lack of supply. I ended up with a crazy fussy baby, and was wandering the house, curious about where this demonspawn had come from. Finally on Sunday, I realized that he was dehydrated, based on lack of dirty diapers, so I sent my husband out for formula. I cried giving it to him. He took the bottle like a champ, but it was too little too late. The dehydration had exacerbated the jaundice he was experiencing, and he was admitted to the hospital the next day. After about 36 hours under the UV lamp, his bilirubin levels had returned to normal, and the IV had done the trick. We were discharged on Wednesday, early enough in the day to go home and get some stuff done, and we haven’t had any relapses. Booger is still latching on really well, and taking the bottle like a champ. I did order a supplemental nursing system to decrease the likelihood of nipple confusion. I’m just very happy to have my calm baby who only cries for diapers back.
I’m having delayed milk production, so I have to keep trying. I’m not giving up till they dry up completely. I’ll be attending a support group starting Wednesday so wish me luck!
Friday, February 11, 2011
24 hours ago...
One might wonder what I'm doing up at 330 am when I was up all night the previous night...The answer...I have a newborn. You see, 24 hours ago, I was about to decide that I was tired of the pain, tired of the pressure. 24 hours ago, I had already given myself two black eyes, broken a bunch of blood vessels in both eyes, blacked out twice, and the worst bit, tried to give up. 24 hours ago, my son was born.
It seems fitting to stay up for a few minutes right now to write his birth story; the amazingly quick, but horrifically painful venture that let him into this world.
It all started at 9:20 pm on Wednesday. We were going to bed, because that's what us early bird types do. I hadn't slept the night before, and we had gone running around all over town that day. I was pretty pooped. I remember saying to Kyle, "I can't wait till he's here, I just want to hold him," right before turning off my light and rolling over to go to sleep. I felt a strange popping sensation low in my uterus. I had time to think, "What the f....." before I felt a gush, and quickly rolled out of bed onto the floor. So glad I maintained some agility throughout my pregnancy. I managed to make it off of the bed without drenching the mattress. I had to call my midwife right away. I was group B strep positive, so I would have to receive antibiotics throughout labor. She told me to head to the birth center, so we gathered all of our stuff, got in the car, and headed over. About 5 minutes into the car ride, I was kneeling on the seat, hugging the back of it. My contractions had started. While not too bad, they were definitely taking the wind out of me.
We arrived at the birth center at 10:15, and headed into a cozy little bedroom type set up, complete with tub. On the next contraction, I ended up on my hands and knees, so my midwife, Fran, handed me a kidney bean shaped birth ball to lean on. That ball, and some counter pressure from Kyle got me through the first couple of hours. The first time Fran checked me, I was 3cm and 80% effaced. I was shocked. I had checked my cervix right before my water broke, and it was closed. That should have been a good sign.
The next two hours were the most painful of my life. I decided it was time to get in the tub after about 2 and a half hours. I was in some really nasty pain and not getting much of a break between contractions. I ended up consenting to one dose of narcotics, which I won't do again. All it did was make me not care for about 20 minutes, and made me throw up. It did nothing to dull the pain. The next thing I knew, I was begging for an epidural. The contractions were fast and hard, and I was exhausted. I couldn't take it anymore, and I just wanted to rest. Pathetic, right?
Fran, being the wonderful midwife that she is, said, "We can do whatever you want, but just let me check you." I was amazed to find out I was 8cm. I knew that even if I made it to the hospital, the relief I was begging for wouldn't happen, so I got back into the tub. I was in transition, the time when most women want to give up. I decided that if I wasn't going to get meds, I was going to scream and let fly a few cuss words...It did make me feel better. I was in the tub for about another 45 minutes when I started feeling the urge to push. Fran checked me, and there was just a little bit of cervix left in the way. She helped to push it out of the way as I pushed. I started pushing with each contraction in the tub, until after one, I got the sensation that I was just waking up. The second time of "waking up" I decided that the tub was no longer an option. I got out of the tub and moved to the bed. It turned out that, both instances of blacking out were caused by me pushing wrong. This was also when I gave myself the two black eyes and made many blood vessels in my upper body just burst!
Finally, with the help of Fran, I was able to figure out how to properly push. I started feeling progress, and was able to get more into what I was doing. I was sleeping for the short lapses of time between contractions, and still wanted to give up, but I knew it was far too late for that. I finally ended up getting pissed. Rowan was crowning, and it felt like his head was going to make my crotch shatter into 1000 pieces. I hated the way it felt. I got mad. I pushed. And then the contractions stopped. I think 2-3 minutes went by before the last contraction hit me. That made me really pissed. On the last contraction, I grabbed my legs and PUSHED! I pushed like it was the last thing I would ever do. Nothing else mattered. I didn't feel tired, I didn't feel like quitting. I wanted that baby out, and I wanted him out now. Well, that's what I got. On the 4th push, I felt something slippery go shooting out. From what Kyle told me later, he really did shoot out. Once his head slipped free, the rest of him followed.
Fran caught him, set him on me and threw some warm blankets over us. It took him a couple of minutes to let out some cries, but he was definitely breathing. He was cooing right away. It sounded like he was saying "hi" over and over again in this sweet little high -pitched voice. I asked Fran why I felt so cross eyed and couldn't really see right. That's when I found out about the blood vessels. I tried and tried to get him to latch on, but couldn't. That battle has only just been won.
6 hours of labor. That's all it took. Statistically first time births last an average of 16 hours. Not me. I got to do things the short, painful way. It was definitely all worth it. Some pictures to bring you to the moment.
It seems fitting to stay up for a few minutes right now to write his birth story; the amazingly quick, but horrifically painful venture that let him into this world.
It all started at 9:20 pm on Wednesday. We were going to bed, because that's what us early bird types do. I hadn't slept the night before, and we had gone running around all over town that day. I was pretty pooped. I remember saying to Kyle, "I can't wait till he's here, I just want to hold him," right before turning off my light and rolling over to go to sleep. I felt a strange popping sensation low in my uterus. I had time to think, "What the f....." before I felt a gush, and quickly rolled out of bed onto the floor. So glad I maintained some agility throughout my pregnancy. I managed to make it off of the bed without drenching the mattress. I had to call my midwife right away. I was group B strep positive, so I would have to receive antibiotics throughout labor. She told me to head to the birth center, so we gathered all of our stuff, got in the car, and headed over. About 5 minutes into the car ride, I was kneeling on the seat, hugging the back of it. My contractions had started. While not too bad, they were definitely taking the wind out of me.
We arrived at the birth center at 10:15, and headed into a cozy little bedroom type set up, complete with tub. On the next contraction, I ended up on my hands and knees, so my midwife, Fran, handed me a kidney bean shaped birth ball to lean on. That ball, and some counter pressure from Kyle got me through the first couple of hours. The first time Fran checked me, I was 3cm and 80% effaced. I was shocked. I had checked my cervix right before my water broke, and it was closed. That should have been a good sign.
The next two hours were the most painful of my life. I decided it was time to get in the tub after about 2 and a half hours. I was in some really nasty pain and not getting much of a break between contractions. I ended up consenting to one dose of narcotics, which I won't do again. All it did was make me not care for about 20 minutes, and made me throw up. It did nothing to dull the pain. The next thing I knew, I was begging for an epidural. The contractions were fast and hard, and I was exhausted. I couldn't take it anymore, and I just wanted to rest. Pathetic, right?
Fran, being the wonderful midwife that she is, said, "We can do whatever you want, but just let me check you." I was amazed to find out I was 8cm. I knew that even if I made it to the hospital, the relief I was begging for wouldn't happen, so I got back into the tub. I was in transition, the time when most women want to give up. I decided that if I wasn't going to get meds, I was going to scream and let fly a few cuss words...It did make me feel better. I was in the tub for about another 45 minutes when I started feeling the urge to push. Fran checked me, and there was just a little bit of cervix left in the way. She helped to push it out of the way as I pushed. I started pushing with each contraction in the tub, until after one, I got the sensation that I was just waking up. The second time of "waking up" I decided that the tub was no longer an option. I got out of the tub and moved to the bed. It turned out that, both instances of blacking out were caused by me pushing wrong. This was also when I gave myself the two black eyes and made many blood vessels in my upper body just burst!
Finally, with the help of Fran, I was able to figure out how to properly push. I started feeling progress, and was able to get more into what I was doing. I was sleeping for the short lapses of time between contractions, and still wanted to give up, but I knew it was far too late for that. I finally ended up getting pissed. Rowan was crowning, and it felt like his head was going to make my crotch shatter into 1000 pieces. I hated the way it felt. I got mad. I pushed. And then the contractions stopped. I think 2-3 minutes went by before the last contraction hit me. That made me really pissed. On the last contraction, I grabbed my legs and PUSHED! I pushed like it was the last thing I would ever do. Nothing else mattered. I didn't feel tired, I didn't feel like quitting. I wanted that baby out, and I wanted him out now. Well, that's what I got. On the 4th push, I felt something slippery go shooting out. From what Kyle told me later, he really did shoot out. Once his head slipped free, the rest of him followed.
Fran caught him, set him on me and threw some warm blankets over us. It took him a couple of minutes to let out some cries, but he was definitely breathing. He was cooing right away. It sounded like he was saying "hi" over and over again in this sweet little high -pitched voice. I asked Fran why I felt so cross eyed and couldn't really see right. That's when I found out about the blood vessels. I tried and tried to get him to latch on, but couldn't. That battle has only just been won.
6 hours of labor. That's all it took. Statistically first time births last an average of 16 hours. Not me. I got to do things the short, painful way. It was definitely all worth it. Some pictures to bring you to the moment.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Wondering
Hmm, Fridays have been baby days for the last few weeks. Every Friday, something happens that makes me think this baby will be here very soon. Today? I have a ton of energy, I've seen the bloody show, and I woke up to some nasty contractions rather than the full bladder that usually wakes me. Now I'm just trying to keep busy and not get my hopes up too much.
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