trying to be important

We went in for David’s two week checkup last week, here’s the rundown:

Weight: 9 pounds 8 ounces (he really likes to eat).

Length: 21 1/2 inches (he was 20 1/4 inches at his 5 day appointment).

Conclusion: He’s thriving and doing well.

Most exciting thing: His umbilical stump FINALLY fell off (this morning, sometime between 4:20 am and 6:44 am).

He’s already grown out of several outfits and pajamas, and is gaining weight faster than I’m gaining muscle. In a month, I’ll challenge all of you to an arm wrestle, though.

Taking care of a baby is a full-time job, but it’s a fun job. If we could just figure out how to get him to sleep at night, my life would be perfect. Until then, it’s just very nearly perfect.

I can’t believe he’s three weeks old.

Yesterday at about 11:30 David and I found ourselves sitting on my coat on the floor of a handicapped bathroom. In the dark.

As it turns out, there aren’t any great locations to breastfeed a baby on a college campus (and the places that I know of were too far away). He was way too upset (screaming his poor little lungs out) to find a better place than the bathroom floor. I tried very hard to make it as sanitary as possible, but a bathroom floor is a bathroom floor. About five minutes into our little pow-wow, the motion-sensing lights didn’t “sense” our being there and turned off. I tried waving an arm in the air and throwing my shoe, but ended up sitting in the dark for the duration of his meal. Just another adventure of a new mom, I suppose.

Moments that make it all worth it (taken with my phone, so you’ll have to forgive the “high” quality):

We’ll be more prepared next Sunday.

Apparently some people care about all the details of our hospital stay. By all means, allow me to share. If you don’t care for the details, just look at the pictures.

Enjoy my one hundredth and longest post.

First, let’s admire a picture of my sweet baby.

On Friday (October 8th), I went to see my doctor for my weekly ultrasound. While at the doctor’s office, hooked up to a monitor, I started having contractions. I didn’t think they were anything significant (because, if I had been doing something besides just lying there, I wouldn’t have even noticed). But the contractions got everyone all excited, and the doctor checked to see how dilated I was (that Tuesday I was 1 cm dilated). I was 3 1/2 centimeters dilated, so they told me to go get some lunch and walk around for a couple of hours and come back at 3 that afternoon to see if I was progressing. Matt and I went to Jimmy Johns and got some sandwiches and then walked around Porter Park. The first lap, I was fine but started noticing the contractions more. During the second lap, I had to stop and sit on a bench because it was too hard to walk. We went back to the doctor’s office and I was dilated to a 4 1/2 and they sent me up to the hospital (a block away).

The admitting clerk who admitted me to the hospital tried to get me scheduled for a c-section. Matt and I both quickly corrected him. They sent me to Labor Room 9 and Nurse Jessica got me all set up with a gown and water and all that jazz. Three nurses and SIX IV needles and puncture wounds later, I finally had an IV in my arm. SIX. Apparently I have very small, fragile veins and every time they would stick an IV needle in and get it situated, my vein would collapse and a giant bubble would form under my skin. I tried to be a good sport about it, but after the third or fourth IV needle not working, I had run out of funny things to say about it; IV needles hurt.

After the IV fiasco, Nurse Tiffany (I liked her a lot) came in and got me all settled in and checked me again; 5 centimeters dilated. Doctor Allred came in and talked to me for a bit and then broke my water — that’s a feeling I’ll never forget — and asked if I was ready for an epidural. At that point, I was still just noticing the contractions and they were mildly uncomfortable, but not epidural worthy. Then Matt and I just kind of hung out, waiting with an enormous amount of anxiety. The contractions got a lot stronger and I progressed to 6 centimeters. I stayed at 6 centimeters for a few hours, which was mildly worrisome since they like to see labor progress within a certain amount of time after breaking the water. Sometime in there, they checked the baby’s position, and he was off to one side of my uterus and not coming straight down the birth canal — which was slowing things down. They upped the Pitocin and at about 8 PM, I decided I was ready for an epidural. At 9, Epidural Lane came in. I liked Lane, he was really nice.

I would just like to say: getting an epidural was WAY better than getting poked with SIX stinkin’ IV needles.

We had a few laughs with Lane and the epidural set in. Aside from making me shake uncontrollably for about 45 minutes, and requiring Nurse Tiffany to empty my bladder for me (for someone who would shut the bathroom door even if she was the only person left on the planet, this was really hard and awkward), I really enjoyed the epidural.

The rest of the evening is kind of a blur. I threw up a few times (yay me). I had more contractions (that I couldn’t feel). The contractions got the little guy coming down the birth canal straight. Around this time, I started feeling the contractions on my right side, so I informed Nurse Tiffany. Nurse Tiffany decided to check me one more time before going to get Epidural Lane to fix me. In about an hour and a half, I went from 6 centimeters to 10 centimeters and was ready to start pushing. We decided to forget about Lane, and get the show on the road.

I have to admit: pushing sucked and was by far the hardest part for me. I wasn’t really phased by the hard contractions, the throwing up, the uncontrollable shaking, but the pushing was not pleasant. At first, it wasn’t so bad, but after about an hour and my epidural was wearing off,  and I was getting more and more uncomfortable as labor progressed, I lost a little bit of my happy-go-lucky attitude. Up until that point, my inner pep talks had been “This isn’t so bad,” “this isn’t going to last forever,” “you can do this,” etc. After an hour of pushing, my inner “pep talks” became “I want this to be over” and “I really want to quit.” I pushed every time they told me to and I never complained, but it was really hard.

The baby’s head was coming down at an angle and was coming with one of his arms, which made getting him out a little more of a challenge. His heart rate wasn’t so hot after my hour or so of pushing — nothing severe, just not ideal. Nurse Tiffany went and got Doctor Allred, who got his forceps and David was born. He didn’t cry much, he was content with watching the nurses wipe him off and get all his measurements and all that. While he was getting checked out by the nurses, I was getting stitched up.

I make an effort not to complain about things. I’ve made considerable effort not to complain about being pregnant or anything pregnancy related. I complained about the stitches. Stitches in your bottom hurt. A lot. Who knew.

Things are really a blur after that. He was cleaned off, I held him. Stuff that I don’t really remember happened. Eventually Nurse Barbara came and let me take a sore shower and wheeled us over to the “Mother Baby Unit” where the beds are much more comfortable. We met Nurse Penny, who kept asking me if I’d peed (she’d ask just like that too) and then take my vitals.

And that is that. We stayed in the hospital for a little bit and ate terrible food and didn’t get any sleep. My family came to visit, and everyone agreed that he was the cutest baby ever seen. We came home Sunday afternoon and had a family dinner (ham and potatoes — WAY better than hospital food) and still didn’t get any sleep.

My mom stayed with us for a week and it was magical — food (really good food) would appear at the appropriate times, laundry would be washed, folded and put at the end of the bed, David would be rocked for a few hours in the night so we could get some sleep, the apartment would be vacuumed, mopped, wiped down, and dusted, and the trash would get taken out.

We’ve been on our own this week, and I’m proud to say that our apartment is clean and we’re still alive. Mealtimes are still all over the place, but we’re working on it.

I’m also proud to say that by the end of week one, I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight (this is easily managed when you only gained 16 pounds and about half of that was a cute baby). Now, coming to the end of week two, for the most part, I don’t feel like I just had a baby (aside from being really tired all the time). I even made cookies, from scratch, earlier this week.

I think that’s the end for now. We love his snores, toots, faces, and especially his cuddles. He eats like a man (all. the. time.) and sleeps the rest of the time. He’s starting to be awake more often now, so this morning when he was awake and observing the world, I tried to teach him how to blow his nose (to make life a little easier on both of us). He stuck his fist in his mouth instead.

One of my favorite things: he smacks his lips when he finishes eating. Sometimes, he smacks with such gusto that he startles himself. It’s hilarious and cute (okay, we find everything he does cute).

And I won’t even ask for it back.

David Carter was born at 4:44 am Saturday (10/09/10*). He weighed 7 pounds 14 ounces (just what he measured at his last ultrasound) and is 19 inches long. He has strawberry blond hair all over his cute little head, and really, really blue eyes. We’ve been home from the hospital since Sunday afternoon, and have been learning a lot about each other.

What we’ve learned:

• He has LONG fingers and toes.
• He has semi-lethal toots.
• He has a dimple on his left cheek.
• He’s a cuddly little fellow.
• He only cries when he has a reason to (we’re still figuring out all the reasons).

I’m totally in love. It’s hard to do anything but cuddle with him.

I’ll post a longer, more detailed post a little later (and more pictures). I have more cuddling to do right at the moment.

* Am I disappointed that we were ONE day away from 10/10/10? A little bit, until I look at his adorable face, then suddenly it doesn’t really matter.

I’m still here and still pregnant. For now.

At Tuesday’s appointment, the little dude was measured and weighed about 7 pounds 14 ounces, so there was been some discussion on inducing me, but I was only dilated to about 1 and a half and not having contractions or anything; so inducing wasn’t “favorable.”

I had an appointment this morning with the doctor. After the ultrasound and a non-stress test (checking the heartbeat, movement, and contractions), the doctor came in and checked me. I was dilated to 3 centimeters, almost 4 and had started having contractions. At that point, the “contractions” were very minor and I hardly noticed them. The doctor told me to walk around and eat some lunch and come back at 3:00 to see if things had progressed. If I am “progressing” then they are going to send me up to the hospital to have a baby. If the contractions are still minor and I’m not more dilated, then I am scheduled to be induced tomorrow morning at 11.

Either way, we’re having a baby today or tomorrow.

After the appointment, Matt and I got some lunch and walked around the park. I couldn’t even make it twice around the park before the contractions were a lot stronger.

It’s 3:00, I have to go.

Days until due date: 6

Peppermint TUMS left: 5

My guess: I’m buying more TUMS. But I’ll wait a little longer.