WELCOME THE NEWEST ADDITION. 2 1/2 weeks old
I’ve been slacking on this entry. My boy is
6 weeks 7 weeks old (started this entry last week) & I haven’t dropped a word about him yet.
C’est la vie! You really do just free fall with the second baby. I guess I’ll begin with the BEGINNING.
My husband & I discussed a second child. He was back and forth with it. I was fine with just one child, but then the idea of a second started growing on me. My first pregnancy and delivery went well. The first 18 months with my daughter went smoothly. She was agood baby. A good sleeper, and so-so eater yet good @ nursing & gaining weight. Took me a year + a few weeks to get wean her off me.
She was just a good, sweet baby. WHY WOULDN’T I want another just like her?!!!
I could never be so wrong. . . I’ll get into the first 6 weeks with Eli @ a later time. Gotta keep focused on the BEGINNING. So, I wanted another May baby. My daughter was born @ 37 weeks. My so-called May 7th baby was born in April. Oh well. She was CLOSE to May.
August came and went and with it, our busy schedules and my chance to HAVE A MAY BABY. Things didn’t happen and I was sorta emo about it. I weighed our pros and cons and decided that just one child was in our best interest and out the window went my desire for a second child. My husband had some sort of guilt upon him for my emo state and decided a second baby would be maybe sorta possibly OKAY, because IIIIIIIIII wanted it. Because the last thing we discussed was giving Olivs a sibling… September 21st, there was NO looking back. I immediately panicked. HOLY HELL WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO ? I DECIDED ONE (CHILD) WAS GOOD FOR US!! HOLY SHIT! Not to mention, September = June baby. Bottom line: if you ever change your mind about something, make sure you
update the parties involved.
I peed on that stick as soon as I could. There it was, + + DOUBLE PLUS SIGNS. Oh ma freaking gah. Made my appt with the doctors
and went for the blood work. Received a phone call a few days later and my doctor’s words: “Rebecca, your progesterone levels are low. As a result, you’re at risk for a miscarriage.” MMMMmmmmmm MISSSSSSSSSS CARRIAGE.
I got that phone call @ work. I went BACK to doing what I was doing, facing away from my manager & sucking up my bottom lip to keep it from breaking. Whew. That’s a lot to take in and process and not cry. I gotta say, I kept it together ONLY because no one spoke to me. The universe knew to keep people and their problems and questions off my ears that day. I finished my shift and went home. I cried the entire way.
So I went on a prescription to increase and maintain my progesterone levels. I read a bunch of forums discussing the risks of taking the script. I discovered a bunch of women that experienced a previous miscarriage and upon another pregnancy, started the script. They strongly believed that HAD ThEY HAD THE PRESCRIPTION or Knowledge their levels were low with their FIRST pregnancy, they wouldn’t have lost that baby. Seemed serious enough to me and so I took my pills vigilantly. I didn’t want anyone knowing about my pregnancy in case it terminated. That’s all i needed was for someone to ask, “HOW’S IT GOING WITH THE PREGNANCY?” and for me to have to say it terminated. Needless to say, I was a complete wreck FOR MONTHS. I had to chill @ work. ME? TAKE IT EASY? Hardest shit ever. Im not a lazy individual and I will NOT TAKE IT EASY, but for once, I had to. It was doctor’s orders afterall. I informed my boss with a letter. It explained I was too emotional about my current state. My absolute best friends were informed of my situation. I mean who are you going to turn to in a situation like this?? The people you love the most, know you the most, and will have your back through thick and thin. FRIENDS. I would’ve lost my mind if I didn’t have them in my life. God Bless Them.
Christmas cards: Those sent to close friends was signed Me, Husband, Baby Girl and Baby LAST NAME… wait… WAT!!! Yes! Another baby. Though I worried about my pregnancy, I felt it was okay to throw it out there @ this point. My clothes were getting tight, so it was going to hit the fan @ some point.
So, January. Twenty weeks pregnant, we discovered we were expecting a boy. Funny. A boy. Right before conception, I found a list of names dating back to 1530 London, England. Every freaking relative on my dad’s side was listed. From that list, I selected “my boy’s name” if I were to ever have one. That must’ve sealed my fate. I emailed and texted my dearest closest friends and family, the photo of the sonogram and announced his name & expected date of arrival.
The pregnancy was still a concern for my doctor. I was at 20-something weeks (or was it 30-something) and she informed me I was okay at that point. If I delivered, he had a good chance of surviving. A. Good. Chance. OF SURVIVING. The thought of an early squirrely delivery frightened me beyond belief.
Soooo we made it to 38 weeks! Fabulous. That day IN MAY (!!yes May baby) my family and I visited the doctor & ran errands. I went to Home Depot for light bulbs and garden stuff. I wanted to mulch and plant my pots before the baby happened. My husband was freaking out because our daughter was throwing a fit in the Home Depot & wanted to leave without my mulch or flowers. Two year old without a nap is a horrible horrible thing. I informed him, THAT MULCH WAS GOING TO PUT ME IN THE HOSPITAL THAT NIGHT & WE WEREN’T LEAVING WITHOUT IT. Off to the garden mart we went.
My 2yr old and I mulched the front yard and back yard, planted pots and called it a wrap @ 7pm. I laid on the couch, feeling like I over did things (DUH). My husband bathed her and put her to bed. I showered, thinking the back pain and cramps would subside . Laid on the couch some more, watched my wednesday night shows (Modern Fams was a damn repeat) and then took myself to bed. Laid in bed tossing and turning thinking the pain would go away… NOW IT WAS ROLLING IN AS WAVES OF PAIN… contractions. HOLY SHIT.
My friend Ray & I had been texting about Modern Fams (like we always do on wednesday) and I told him how I was feeling. He told me to GET TO THE HOSPITAL ( he had been googling early labor symptoms)!! I started timing the waves of pain with my iPhone stop watch and logging the info into my iPhone notepad. Go technology. By the looks of my info, I got up, fixed a few more things to my overnight bag and brushed my teeth. Grabbed my daughter’s things and tossed in a bag and it wasn’t until our bags hit the top landing of the steps, that my husband figured it out. He simply stated, “We’re going to the hospital, aren’t we.”
Off we went.
At the hospital a lil past midnight on THE LAST DAY IN MAY!! I finally registered ONCE THE OLD DRUNK MAN IN FRONT OF ME got to stepping. THINK THE PREGNANT GIRL standing in the E.R. needs to get checked in???? NAAAAAH. Let the old drunk man bullshit some more, while I put my head down and breathe through these contractions. Go ‘head. Let him fuck around til I have this baby right here.
The Bradley Method was a little harder for me to focus on this time around, but I got myself there. Got myself into a deep trance.
Focused. Meditate. Breathe long breaths, exhale the pain away.
A little after 4 am I snapped out of my meditative state. BLAM. SHIT WAS BRIGHT. MY EYES WERE OPENED. THIS WAS IT!!! CALL IN THE NURSE/MIDWIFE/DOCTOR. I could get through 2 sessions of pushing, ten seconds each time… just couldn’t pull off the third round. The baby was basically turtling, because I couldn’t do the third round of pushing. The midwife did that lamaze breathing shit and I wanted to punch her in her mouth. It’s all about controlled breathing. Nice slow deep breaths. Relaxed breaths. Maintain oxygen… so, my little teeny asian doctor said, “I NEED YOU TO PUSH THE THIRD ROUND. THAT WILL KEEP HIM FROM GOING BACK IN.” I looked at her with this, BITCH WHO YOU TALKING TO look, but her sweet disposition, sweet look was now a look of determination. I had to do the third round. Had to do it for her!!
I did three sets of that… 9 pushes and I finally had that baby! Less than 25 minutes all together. Seemed like double that!
So let me wrap this shit up— baby was 8lbs 6oz and 2 weeks early. THANK THE LORD I went early. Dude wouldve been a heffer.
I lost a lot of blood. TOO MUCH BLOOD & they couldn’t get it controlled. hemorrhaging. WATWATWATWAT PANIC PANIC. What they shoved up the treasure box to control the bleeding almost made me barf and pass out. THE PAIN! MORE PANIC. I was NOT RELAXED at this point. I overheard the word BLOOD TRANSFUSION and really freaked. At that point, I agreed to the second offer of pain meds and I was out.
THe meds made me feel not so cool. It was like I was drunk and ate benadryl, dramamine and did other shit all at the same time. Tried to keep myself composed, but could HEAR MYSELF @ the same time and was like, JUST STFU ALREADY! The meds shouldve worn off after 2 hours, but didn’t feel myself until 4 1/2 hours later. At the end of the first two hours, they thought I shouldve been feeling undrugged, so they gave me my 2 hour old baby to nurse. Sure. Leave the room and leave me with my newborn baby, when I couldnt even brush my teeth with a motorized toothbrush. BUt hold this baby and not drop him??? SURE I FEEL 100%!! NOT. It was all i could do to not fall out of that bed (they sat me up to nurse). I kept trying to keep my eyes open, tried to keep them from not rolling back in my head and jesus, focused on not dropping him.
So baby born @ 5am THursday and I rolled out that hospital 2:30pm Friday. My doctor was impressed that I had two showers already. Was dressed in MY CLOTHING. Hair done. Make-up. No pain meds. Not even motrin. Despite that, she wanted me to stay, but my husband wanted to vacate. HE had xBox to play! Sike. I wanted to stay only because someone was cooking ME food for once, but ultimately I knew we had to get our daughter and besides, the hospital beds suck. Off we went.
Thank goodness this post has ended. FINALLY. I started when he was 6 weeks old, put her on hold/draft a few times. He will be 8 weeks old in a matter of days. OOPS.