Birth Story Part 6

Catch up: Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

So Not-Jac told me that, while I couldn't have an epidural, I could have something else. Remifentanil. She briefly explained what Remi was and gave us a sheet of facts. It wasn't a pain management option I'd heard about at all prior to that moment, which surprised me given all my research. I've since learned that they only give Remi when a patient can't have an epidural.

We agreed to the Remi, which would be self-administered via a pump. They got another cannula put in my hand (this time in a very awkward place, right where my wrist bent) and got me all hooked up. The nice student midwife helped me put my hair in a ponytail. I tried to do it myself, but the IVs made it impossible to manoeuvre. It was a small act, but still sticks with me as a reassuring, and sweet moment from my labour.

the Remi port the day after giving birth

(Overall, despite minor annoyances, the midwives we dealt with were really good. They were calm and competent. In all honesty, I was so focused that I don't remember a great deal about them- but I think that must be a good thing. It means they let me get on with it and provided support when needed, just like they should!)

After the pump contraption was all set up and the port was in, Not-Jac explained that I would have to push a button to administer a dose. I could choose when to release a dose, but there was a time limit on how frequently I could push the button. She explained that I'd need to learn how to time it with the contractions for maximum effect and suggested pushing the button as each contraction started. She then held out the button to me. I remember a look in her eye as she made me reach out for the button and take it, rather than just handing it to me. It was a final moment of "you must choose this". I'm not sure how much that memory is based in reality. I grabbed the controller and, as Ross put it, "pushed the button like I was blowing up China". Nearly immediately, I felt the relief flood my body.

From there, time gets REALLY fuzzy. It was about 4 in the morning, I think. My world narrowed to just me, the button, and anything happening within about a foot of me. Even Ross is quiet blurry in my memory from this point. I was frequently aware of (and very grateful for) his presence, but was so "in" the labour that I don't think I interacted much with him. I know he kept calm by emailing updates to people and cleaning up the ice that we'd brought that had now melted. (Our freezer bag was leaking and he had visions of midwives slipping in a puddle on their way to render aid to the baby with the machine that was next to him. He was meticulous in cleaning it up. In the end, distraction was the only thing that ice was good for.)

Labour continued on unremarkably from this point. (There was one point where Ross overheard the midwives with scraps of "obviously in distress... baby isn't doing well... I don't want to be the one to tell her..." I didn't hear any of this (Thank God!!), but Ross was understandably freaking out. He called over the the midwives, who were on the other side of the room, and asked if everything was ok. They seemed confused why he was asking and replied "Of course" and that "if anything were wrong they'd tell us". Apparently they were discussing someone else! Ross told them that it would be nice to be told that everything was ok from time to time. My poor honey! I've said it before, but I don't envy the husband during labour. It's a tough job!) At some point, our midwives had a break and someone else came in to cover for a while. Then our original midwives went off their shift and someone new took over. She was a young midwife and I don't remember much about her, other than that she was nice. For some reason, I was giving a nose thingie to give me oxygen. I threw up a couple of times.

The next thing I really remember is when things go exciting. I started to feel that things were HAPPENING. I noticed the midwives moving into action. I overheard someone tell someone else that I'd be starting to push soon. I informed them that it was happening NOW. I felt an uncontrollable need to push and that wasn't any stopping it. Someone pointed out that the Remi had run out. My first reaction was that I needed more, but that didn't happen. I decided that I could make it for the last bit med-free. I am so happy with that decision. Because it's such a fast in/out drug, I was able to be really present for the pushing and birth. It was much closer to the birth I'd wanted than I thought I'd be getting!

All in all, I think I pushed maybe 5 times. It didn't take much more than about 15 minutes. When I got to the point of the "ring of fire", I followed the advice of my midwife and panted, rather than pushing. Man, that sucked. In the last few moments of pushing I remember thinking that I could feel the baby's nose squishing against me and jokingly mentally cursing that sweet little nose. And then, I pushed and I felt the most massive relief in my life. Linus shot out between my legs and I felt the umbilical cord follow suit. It felt like a hose unravelling, complete with "bdd-dd-d-ddddd" sound effects. It seemed impossibly long in the moment.

Ross was at my side as we saw our son come into the world. He looked so huge to me. He was slightly purple (which I'd been prepared for), but perfect. He had lots of hair. The midwife quickly wiped him a bit and then placed him on my chest for skin-to-skin. He scored 9s on both of his APGAR ratings. It was 8:25AM on March 1, 2012.

Linus' first picture

Birth Story Part 5

Is anyone surprised this birth story is taking me so long to get through?  You shouldn't be... I mean, remember my Wedding Recaps?!  (I told you I could rabbit on!)

So, when we left off, I knew my intervention-free birth was going out the window.  The midwives inserted a cannula into the back of my right hand.  It had two ports, one to administer antibiotics and on for the Sintocin.  In no time I was all hooked up and ready to get things going.  I steeled myself for the increase in pain, but I was pretty worn out by this point.

The Sintocin did it's job and very quickly my contractions got closer together and more intense.  I started to struggle.  Being unable to move around and the sheer exhaustion were really getting to me.  The midwives were frustrated that they had trouble keeping the baby's heartbeat tracked on the monitor I was wearing and kept re-adjusting it.  After a couple of hours they said that they wanted to up my dose of Sintocin because I still wasn't far enough along for their liking.  At this point, I cracked.  I said, "If you want to up the dose, I'd like to talk to someone about an epidural".  They were words I'd been aiming to avoid.  I didn't want to have one, but I knew I'd reached my breaking point.  If I'd been able to move around or be in the water, or if I hadn't been in labour so long things might have been different.  But that's what happened I asked for the epidural.

Time went on and I assumed that the anaesthetist was coming.  The midwife said they needed to up the dose again and I said, "What's happening with the epidural?"  She said "Oh, did you want one?"  I was so shocked.  I was in disbelief that I'd asked about one a full hour before and she hadn't called for a doctor!  I've heard since then, that they will often really make you work for one and be firm that you really want it in an effort to help you avoid one if they know you hadn't wanted an epidural.  So I guess I can appreciate that she was trying to give me the birth I had wanted, but at the time I was not a happy camper.  I think Ross was even more irritated than I was.  (I think being the husband during birth has to be one of the hardest things ever.  They don't get enough credit for sitting there watching their wives in pain, unable to really DO anything.  Sure they can do some things, but there's not a lot to do except wait and be supportive- while trying to keep calm and positive.  When things weren't going as smoothly as we would have liked, I can't imagine how stressful it was for him.)  I affirmed that yes I wanted the epidural and would like her to hold off on upping my dose of Sintocin again until after I'd had some pain relief.

Not long thereafter, an anaesthetist came into the room.  The was a young-ish woman and in my mind she was Jac Naylor (a character on a hospital show here.  She's known for her no-nonsense attitude and all-business approach to medicine).  I knew, even in the moment, that she really looked nothing like the actress, but I still decided that she was my own personal Jac.

Jac

She was very calm and cool.  I remember appreciating how she spoke to me (like a normal person, instead of like a woman in labor).  She politely said that she'd heard I was interested in an epidural.  By this point, it had been nearly 36 hours since my waters had broken.  She informed me in a very straight-forward manner that I wasn't eligible for an epidural.  I was crushed.  My mouth hung open.  I already felt a bit like I'd failed in even asking for one, but once I'd given in and asked for one I hadn't had any question in my mind that I'd be getting one and that relief was imminent.  I think I almost cried when I asked "Why?!?!"  She explained that, because my waters had been broken for so long and I'd spiked a fever there was a chance that I could be paralysed if they went messing with my spine.  Well that, seemed a good enough reason....  I thought after hearing this news that the next bit she would say was "So, you'll just have to keep going... no pain relief for you."  I felt defeated and tired.  Luckily, I was wrong... Not-Jac wasn't going to let me down.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Word of the Week

bogeybooger

...but it's snot.

Definition: the colloquial term for dried nasal mucus 

Used in a sentence:  I've got a cold right now, so I'm very pretty with a nose full of bogeyboogers.

Birth Story Part 3

Part 1
Part 2

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Ross and I arrived back at North Manchester General Hospital (still known locally as Crumpsall) at around 4:30PM, 24 hours after my waters had broken.  We made our way to the Antenatal Ward to check in and get assessed.  They walked us into a large room that contained four curtained cubicles, each containing a hospital bed, nightstand and chair.  The curtains between bays were open at the time and I remember a woman across the way was moaning loudly through her contractions.  A midwife pulled our curtain closed and check me out.  I was not quite 3cm and mostly effaced.  My contractions were still slightly irregular so they encouraged us to do some walking to see if we could speed things along.

And walk we did.  We roamed the halls and walked up and down stairs.  Any time I had a contraction, I stopped and breathed through it.  I was still coping pretty well, but was starting to get anxious that things weren't further along.  I remember laughing and joking with Ross during this period which was a great way to keep my cool and manage the pain.  My contractions were getting closer together and stronger, so we knew things were going in the right direction.  We headed back to the Antenatal Ward and the midwife checked me out again.  I was now completely effaced and a good 3cm.  At this point, Ross got on his phone and googled some ways to speed up labor.  I snacked on some fruit and cheese that we'd brought with us and Ross used pressure points on my hand and foot to try and move things along even more.  I think it actually worked because before long we were off to the Birth Centre.

(Tangent: Now, I didn't blog about it, but I raised a pretty big stink about being allowed on the Birth Centre.  My pre-pregnancy BMI was ever-so-slightly too high for me to be officially allowed.  I wasn't told this until about halfway through my 3rd trimester.  I was really upset given that I had been told all along that my health was "perfect" and that I was an excellent candidate for the Birth Centre.  I used the fact that I hadn't really gained any weight during the pregnancy and a sternly worded letter to get my way.  From the moment I got approval, it became my fear that I would end up not being able to hack it on the Birth Centre and would be begging for an epidural.)

We got to the Birth Centre at around 8PM and were shown into one of the mack-daddy birthing rooms with the giant birthing tub and twinkly ceiling.

Mid-contraction in the Birth Centre

Twinkly ceiling and tub on the left

The midwife on duty talked to us a bit and told me that I wouldn't be able to go in the birth tub due to risk of infection since my waters broke more than 24 hours previously.  It was at this point that I remember snapping at Ross to stop rubbing a spot on my lower back because it felt like he was rubbing it raw.  (In the days after the birth, I had a huge patch of really dry skin in that same spot, so I guess I was right!)  I'm glad to say that it was the only slightly unpleasant moment in our interactions.  I certainly never experienced any animosity or movie-style "You did this to me!" anger.  I mostly remember thinking how awesome he was and how much I love him.  I do remember getting irritated that the midwives would stop talking to me when I went into my zen place for contractions.  I told Ross to tell them to keep talking to me through them if they had something to say, as I found it distracting to have them awkwardly waiting for my contraction to stop before resuming the conversation.  

The midwife examined me and said, with regret, that I was still just around 3cm and that I really needed to be on the Labour Ward.  Given the fact that I wasn't going to be able to labour in the water anyway, I wasn't too distressed by this.  The midwives were really great and tried so hard to give us the birth experience that we really wanted, but it just wasn't to be.  

I had prepared going into the birth to be flexible.  I knew that if I was rigid and uptight about how things "had to go" I would only be in for disappointment.  After all, the process of giving birth isn't one that we can control.  I figured that I could certainly have a Plan A, but that if need be I was prepared to abandon it and go with whatever needed to happen.  To that end, I never developed a formal birth plan.  I'd discussed with Ross that my plan was:  "I want to have zero interventions that the baby and I do not need and any interventions that we do", but that was it.  Nothing formal or written, just an understanding between me and my husband.  This is one of the most important preparations I think that I made.  Once it became clear that I wasn't progressing quickly enough, I was ready to change course.  I didn't spend my time regretting that things weren't going as planned or fretting about the loss of control.  I knew that I could trust Ross to help me advocate for as little intervention as possible and that we'd do whatever we needed to to get our baby out safely.  In fact, as the labour went on, I found that the midwives were still apologizing that things weren't going as I planned, when I had totally moved on and was over it.  

And with that, we gathered our things and they put me in a wheelchair to ferry me to the Labour Ward.  I was still coping well, but it clear that we weren't getting our baby any time soon and that our Leap Day baby was unlikely.

Breast feeding gear

I've already talked a little bit about our breastfeeding journey so far.  Things are still going well. (Though, just FYI, if you've got a bad latch and you know it you should pop the baby off and start over.  Don't just let him keep going because you're really tired and it doesn't hurt too badly.  Cause you'll wind up with a blister.  That will bleed.  Which means that the baby will spit up your blood.  Which is creepy and gross.  And his poo will turn black from all the extra iron.  Which is creepy and gross.  Just FYI.)

This post is to talk about the various accoutrements needed for breastfeeding.  Technically, you don't need anything.  I started out with 2 nursing tank tops that my mom sent over from Target.  But I've discovered there are a couple of things that do make nursing a LOT more pleasant.

The Boppy

The design we have. From Amazon UK.

I put a Boppy on our wish list, but no one got it for us.  (Well, actually, someone bought us the extra slipcover I'd put on the list thinking it was the whole pillow...)  I didn't purchase it right away because I'd heard mixed reviews as to it's usefulness.  We've made a concerted effort not to buy into the consumerism surrounding babies.  We don't want to waste money on items that are used a few times and then discarded as so many "must have" items inevitably are.  So for the first few weeks I was using a couple of throw pillows to help position Linus.  I quickly found that this wasn't working.  My back was sore from hunching over.  My wrists were inflamed from holding him up and supporting his head so often.  So when a friend gave us an Amazon gift card, I decided to put it to use for a Boppy.  I got the "naked" one since we already had a slip cover.  

The first time I used the Boppy it was a whole new world.  I didn't have to hold my body- or Linus'- in an awkward position.  I could even nurse hands free!  Hallelujah!  I've nursed out in public without the aid of the Boppy since then, but every time we've been home I've used my new best friend.  This was one purchase that I'd gladly make again.  I've heard from friends who prefer the My Breast Friend pillow (citing it's superiority for the well-endowed), but I'm super happy with my choice.

The Glamourmom Nursing Bra Full Bust Long Top

Super Awesome!

I mentioned that my mom had sent me a pair of nursing tanks from Target.  They work fine.  They have a little shelf bra and the front flips down for easy access, but they are definitely more around-the-house/sleepwear appropriate.  I knew they'd be fine for the early days and could tide me over until my milk came in and I'd settled to a more long-term size.  I didn't want to guess the size on something as important as a nursing bra, given that proper fit it key for avoiding plugged ducts and mastitis.

As I started researching options for nursing bras and tanks, I was shocked at the lack of options available in the UK!  There were shockingly few nursing bras available at brick and mortar stores and no nursing tanks.  Imagine my surprise when I went into Mamas & Papas (a leading baby/maternity store) and was told that only some of their stores carry nursing bras and that even they are being phased out- nursing bras would only be available online soon.  No wonder UK health workers lament the small number of women who breastfeed!  The stores certainly don't make it easy.  (Ok, I get that it's probably the other way around.  I'm sure stores don't stock because there is low demand... )  I expected that I would have a hard time finding a nursing bra given my large cup size, but I was certainly surprised at the dearth of availability even for smaller cups sizes.  In general the UK is much more friendly to the well-endowed with many brick and mortar stores carrying a wider range of sizes than their US counterparts, but when it comes to nursing bras that isn't the case.  

I went to my local specialty bra store (Love Your Fit in Bury) about a month after giving birth.  I wanted to get fitted for a nursing bra and figured that my breast size was pretty settled by that point.  They have great service and an awesome selection of bras in all sizes- though they do have to order things in sometimes.  One of the nice ladies measured me up (by eye, they don't use tape measures) and told me that I was a 34J.  Wha-what?  That sounds obscene.  I knew my boobs were big, but holy-ma-loly!  Sadly they only had one style of nursing bra available in that size and when I tried it on I knew it was a no-go.  It was cut so high I don't think I would have been able to wear it with anything but turtlenecks!  They were super nice and understanding about my not wanting to purchase and suggested that I try the internet.  

I took to Facebook to lament the lack of options for nursing bras/tanks available in the UK- especially for larger breasted women.  A few American friends chimed in with suggestions, but most of the options were not available in the UK.  One friend suggested the GlamourMom Full Bust Nursing Top, saying it was amazing.  I checked out the website and was thrilled to see that they had a link to a site for European customers.  I ordered one top in black to try and see if it was a good fit for me.  I corresponded with John from the company about the products.  I was wondering if it was sold in stores in my area so I could try it on first.  It wasn't, but John was so nice, friendly, and helpful!  He even offered to get me rush shipping the next day.  

Me in my GlamourMom tank top

This tank top is so awesome.  It is like an industrial strength tank top.  The built-in bra is a truly supportive, well-constructed bra- not just a flimsy shelf one.  It's got a good amount of length that is flattering and comfortable to a post-partum body and nice ruching near the cleavage that makes it look like "real" clothing instead of glorified underwear.  My favorite feature, however, is the way the cups are constructed.  It has the standard drop down flaps in the front, but there is a secondary layer inside that features a cut out for your nipple.  In the shelf-bra versions from Target that I have, when I flap down the front it's full exposure!  It's basically just a whole boob out in the open.  I'm not overly modest, but when your boob to baby's head ratio is like mine, the added coverage is a big help.  

I only have one of these tops so far, but I'm itching for more.  I find myself excited on days when I wear my GlamourMom top and saving it for days when I want to look nicer.  I cannot recommend this top highly enough.  They have other styles if you aren't so well endowed, but I can guarantee that this is one of the best solutions available for the well-endowed mama.*

*GlamourMom did not compensate me for singing their praises.  I just REALLY dig them.

And that's pretty much it for me and breastfeeding gear.  I'm low maintenance.  

What about you?  

Did you have lots of gear or keep is simple?

What were your favorite items?

Birth Story Part 1

Monday February 27, 2012

I was a week from my due date and feeling great!  I'd read so many accounts of women feeling "done" with pregnancy by this point, but I just wasn't.  Sure I was big and sort of uncomfortable, but I hadn't crossed over to feeling HUGE and awful.  I told several people that I'd even be happy to go slightly overdue!  That said, I'd been experiencing a serious resurgence in my fatigue.  For a few days I'd been feeling exhausted.  I think even more so than in my first trimester.  I was a champion napper!

Ross' Uncle Jeff was in town for business so we went out for lunch and dinner with him.  I felt so uncomfortable all throughout both meals.  I thought Linus' feet were pressing up into the top of my belly and ribs, which was strange considering I was under the impression that he'd dropped.  I spent most of the day gently rubbing the upper sides of my bump and lightly pressing down, trying to get him to move a little.

Tuesday February 28, 2012


My fatigue and discomfort continued, but nothing was raising any red flags to me at this point.  I figured I was just feeling the way you do at the end of a pregnancy.  I'd been sitting on the couch, surfing the net, and chatting with a friend on gchat.  At about 4:00pm, I felt something very strange.  I'd read online about women who weren't sure if they'd peed themselves or if their water had broken.  I'd always thought, "How can you NOT know?!?"  But when I felt a slow bursting feeling, followed by a gush of liquid, I just wasn't sure what to think!  The best way I can describe it was like a soft balloon bursting, as opposed to a pop.  More like you'd overfilled a water balloon and the balloon just gently gave way.  I went to the bathroom to check things out.  Still not entirely convinced, I walked back into the living room, looked at Ross and said "So, um... I think my waters just broke..."  Ross looked at me in confusion and asked what I meant.  We debated how to proceed.  Since I was already chatting with my friend Elizabeth, who is a pregnancy expert (you know, cause she's had babies...), I decided to get a consultation.

It suddenly hit me that we would, in all likelihood, be having a Leap Day baby!  The thought had occurred to me back when we'd first found out my due date, but I'd dismissed it because everyone knows a first baby is always overdue, right?  (Turns out my older brother was 10 days early... oh well).  How exciting and cool!  I continued to chat with Elizabeth and finally heard back from Mandy with word that I should go into the Birth Centre to get checked.

From the moment I'd made my announcement, Ross had been running around the flat like a mad man.  If only I'd known that telling him my waters had broken was an excellent motivator to tidy things up, I might have tried it earlier!  He had things cleared away at lightning speed and even gave his hair a trim in the bathroom.

We loaded up the car with my birth bag, a bag of stuff for the baby (diapers and clothes mostly), my birth ball, and the car seat and headed to Tesco.  We wanted to pick up some provisions as they recommend that you bring food and ice with you.

Ice, water, fruit, cheese, cucumber, shampoo and conditioner, 

and a donut for my sweet tooth

We were nervous and excited!  It was almost time to meet our dear baby boy.  I was convinced that we had a Leap Day Baby on our hands.  Little did I know, our journey had just begun...

In the checkout line

Tesco self-portrait

to be continued...

Feeding him myself

I am breastfeeding Linus.  (Right this second actually.  I'm getting pretty good at one-handed typing!)  I've noticed, however, that people here in the UK don't ask if I'm breastfeeding.  When it's come up, they've all asked if I'm "feeding him myself".  I'm not sure if it's a cultural difference or just a coincidence that all of the women have worded it that way.  Most of them were a bit older than me, so perhaps it's a hesitance to use the word "breast".  All of them have praised me for my perseverance and most didn't breastfeed their own children.  I know that breastfeeding is less common in the UK.  There is a big push to get more women to do it, but I think they've only had limited success.  I've seen a few specials on TV that were aimed at spreading the word about the benefits of breastfeeding, but frankly they did the effort no favours by featuring the weirdo militant moms who were still breastfeeding 6 year olds.

Passed out after a good feed.

I knew from the beginning that I intended to breastfeed.  It just made sense to me.  There are all sorts of health benefits for both mom and baby.  And it seems so much easier.  You don't have to mess with bottles or formula.  You just (as my husband so lovingly put it) "lob a tit out".  I get that it isn't right for everyone, but it seemed the logical choice for me.

In preparation for Linus' arrival, I started reading up on all things baby- pregnancy, birth, and breastfeeding were all frequent topics of my research.  I like to collect as much information as I can to give me a solid base of knowledge.  As I read more and more about breastfeeding I found that, rather than easing my anxiety, I was adding to it.  You see, everything I read online about breastfeeding seemed to say the same thing:

"No one tells you how hard breastfeeding is.  It's SOOOOO hard.  Man it's the hardest.  You will fail or will think about quitting because it's super duper hard.  It hurts and will make you cry.  Boy howdy is it hard!"*

All the tales of woe (poor latch, insufficient milk supply, cracked/bleeding nipples, toe-curling pain) freaked me right the hell out.  Part of me started to think that breastfeeding would be a real struggle.  Another part of me (the gut instict part, that I usually end up giving more weight than any research I do) said, "This is doable. It may be hard, but you can totally do this."  I decided that people, in their attempts to warn people of the challenges of breastfeeding had skewed my reading too far to one side.  So many women had felt unprepared for it to be difficult that the internet ended up with a glut of warnings.

So in order to rectify this glut, or at least add my perspective, I'll tell you about my experience.

The first 48 hours or so were tough.  Linus was pretty sleepy and not interested in feeding on the schedule that made the midwives in the hospital happy.  We hadn't quite worked out how to latch properly and hadn't settled on the right hold to use.  I felt like my boobs were everywhere and that I needed a couple of extra hands to get him latched on and nursing right.  When I did get Linus latched, he would often fall asleep and stop suckling.

On the recovery ward, not long before discharge.

So here are my tips to get through the early hard parts:

-Don't give up!  It is hard at first.  That is true.  It is a new skill that you have to learn.  And it's not just you.  The baby is learning too!  This is one of the most helpful things that a friend said to me.  It is a two person activity and the baby has to learn how to do it too, so don't feel like you are doing a bad job if it isn't easy.  Just keep doing it and it will get better.  You'll both figure it out.

-Keep trying different things When I was in the hospital I tried every nursing position that I'd read about.  It tried the traditional crossbody hold, lying down, and the rugby hold (known as the football hold in the US).  The traditional hold has never really worked for us.  I think we've done it once in the 4 weeks I've been nursing.  Lying down has only started working in the last week or so and it's not always a sure fire thing. Now the rugby hold- the rugby hold is our jam!  It's the way to go for us and I'd heard that it was a good option for the *ahem* amply bosomed.  That said, it didn't work great at first.  Nothing did, but... *see above*  

-Improvise  When Linus was new and very sleepy I found that I had to work hard to keep him eating.  I'd read to tickle his feet, rub his back or make circles on his cheeks to stimulate him.  There was no way I could do that in the beginning.  I barely had enough hands to wrangle my boobs and the baby.  I found two alternate things that worked:  blowing on his face and squeezing him gently like a bagpipe with my elbow while he was in the rugby/football hold.  Now I can feed him with just one hand and he stays awake much better, but don't be afraid to try different things.  Don't get too caught up in how you're *supposed* to do things.  (Not a bad life philosophy in my opinion!)

Mid-feed

-Try not to get too uptight about timing  Now this is an area where others might not agree, but I generally let Linus eat when he wants to eat and sleep when he wants to eat.  Now that he's 4 weeks old, I'm starting to think about a schedule, but in the early days I think it's best to just go with the flow.  The midwives in the hospital were stressing me out with their insistence that Linus needed to nurse after a certain number of hours had passed.  He was fine.  Trying to wake him up to make him eat was pretty futile.  Once we were discharged and left to our own devices things go MUCH better and less stressful.  We've found our own rhythm and Linus is gaining weight like a champ.

-Relax!  I think this applies to parenting (and- well- life) in general.  Babies pick up on tension and parental stress.  If you are uptight about nursing it only makes it harder.  Once we left the hospital and the external stressors of the observing midwives (who were only doing their jobs and assuredly meant well) were gone, we were golden.  Towards the end of our stay at the hospital I'd been told that I needed a midwife to observe me with Linus appropriately latched on before I could be discharged.  As the clock ticked on, my desperation to go home did not make this feat any easier to accomplish.  I've been lucky that I've been able to maintain my breastfeeding zen thus far.  I haven't cried or gotten worked up about it and I think that's a big reason we're doing well so far.

-Don't get complacent  After a week and a half or so of good nursing I started to feel like we had it down and were totally in the clear.  Then Linus started doing a weird tongue thing that led to raw nipples.  I needed to keep paying attention to his latch and not assume he'd get it right every time.  Then today, Linus took an extraordinarily long morning nap.  Then we went out to run some errands.  Every time we've gone out and about Linus has slept the whole time.  I think he finds the movement of the car and, when we get where we're going, his stroller comforting.  By the time we got home I was about to burst.  I soaked through breast pads, my nursing tank top and and overshirt.  It was a mess.  And my pump was disassembled and in the dishwasher.  I tried to feed him, but was so engorged that he couldn't latch on.  I handed a screaming baby over to Ross and quickly washed the pump by hand and pumped enough that Linus could latch.  Whew!  Crisis averted, but barely.  I should have been more on top of the pump being clean and the timing of feedings for my own sake.

-Let your partner help  Just because you're breastfeeding doesn't mean that your partner can't be involved.  Ross helped with an extra hand in the early unwieldy days.  He's comforted Linus while I've gotten settled and recently has gotten to feed him bottles of milk that I expressed.  It's easy for the guy to feel left out because breastfeeding is the one thing they really can't do, but that doesn't mean that they don't have a role to play- even if it's just emotional or moral support.

Ross giving Linus his first bottle

So, if you want to make breastfeeding work have confidence that you can do it!  It's not super-easy, but it's also not the hardest thing ever.  I think approaching it with a positive attitude makes a big difference.  I've even managed to nurse in public twice now- once in the cafe at the John Rylands Library and once in a restaurant.  I used a pashmina scarf (no fancy, expensive nursing covers required) to cover myself and didn't get any dirty looks or grief from anyone.  I don't think most people knew anything was even going on.  

Those are my tips, what are yours?

Was breastfeeding easier or harder than you expected?

*I'm paraphrasing and using slight exaggeration for comedic effect, but this was the general gist of what I read.

"Down There"

During my pregnancy, I noticed that women in the UK seem to be much more uncomfortable with the idea of pelvic exams than Americans.  I mean, not that anyone really likes a pelvic... but Americans have them annually in most cases.  Here in England, pap smears are only every 3 years.  During my pregnancy, I never once had to take my pants off-  until my water broke.  Some of the women in my aqua aerobics class were expressing concern about having to have a pelvic when they went into labor.  This struck me as funny.  I mean, they know that having a baby means pushing a person out of their vagina, right?  It's a little late to be precious about it in my opinion...

But, during my labor experience, I found that this attitude definitely continued.  By the time I was ready to get going in the delivery room (full TMI birth story to come), I wasn't too concerned about my modesty.  I mean I was getting ready to squeeze a child out in front of these midwives.  They were going to see stuff eventually.  They've seen lots of other's people's goodies before and they'll see plenty more to come.  The midwives were very nice, but seemed to think I was a modest flower.  Maybe that's part of their training, and I'm sure many women appreciate that approach.  I simply found it funny!  

After I'd given birth and was ready to take a shower, the midwife asked if I had a robe or something that I wanted.  I guess she thought I'd want to cover up to walk the 10 feet to the bathroom in front of my husband.  I was fine doing it naked.  He's seen it before.  In fact, he just watched me push our baby out of it.

After I moved to the post natal ward, the midwives made the rounds checking on us.  My room on the ward consisted of 4 bays separated by curtains, so there was some privacy, but you could hear everything going on around.  As my stay continued, I noticed that the midwives continued with their modest approach.  I heard women asked if everything was ok "down there"- accompanied by a vague hand gesture, raised eyebrows, and hushed tone.  Why are these medical professionals unable to say the word "vagina"?  

When we were being discharged, a midwife was going through all the official talking points.  My favorite one included that the post-birth period is a highly fertile one.  She advised us to be careful if we were "feeling romantic" and to use birth control.  Ross and I found this hilarious.  (Aside from the exceedingly humorous notion of being in any mood to have sex immediately after getting home!)

Ross declared that if he were a midwife, he'd have fun using a different euphemism every time.  And so, we've been on a euphemism kick.  Ross has been asking me about my "down there" in various ways.  So far, we've had my "attached veranda", "underwear filler", "family vault", "lady town" and many others.

Do you prefer when medical professionals use technical words or euphemism?  

Bonus points for best "down there" euphemism!

Cheerful Sunday

A nice warm bubble bath with me, the bump, and Sparkle Ducky is very cheerful indeed!

Today I declare (a very small) victory

Last night, Ross and I went to the first of our 4 birthing classes.  It wasn't great.  It was lead by the head midwife from our area*, lasted an hour and a half and was scattered and not engaging.  We did learn the following helpful information:

(WARNING:  Gross bodily fluid talk ahead)

1.  When your waters (they use the plural here... weird, huh?) breaks, put on a pad for an hour, then call the hospital.  They hospital will want you to describe the color and odor of your waters and this is the best way to do it.  VERY HELPFUL TO KNOW!
2.  Squatting on a birthing ball during labor can open up your pelvis a LOT.  I think she said an additional 28%, but Ross and I thought this sounded made up or impossible.  GOOD TO KNOW!
3.  In the final weeks of pregnancy, don't lay back lounging on the couch.   Sit backwards on a chair instead, as this encourages the baby to get into optimal positioning.  USEFUL INFO!

I think that's about it, as far as new information goes.  Now if I'd been presenting the class** I would have presented things thusly:
1. Survey the audience:  Who here is having their first baby?  Who here is planning to have a natural birth/epidural/c-section?  Anyone having multiples?
2. Here are some helpful things you can do in the last weeks of your pregnancy to prepare for labor.  (Including #3 above).
3. What to expect when you actually do go into labor.  When should you call (including #1 above), how long should you stay at home before coming in, etc.  She covered information that I already knew about how long it takes to dialate and the stags of early labor that I'd include here.
4. What should you bring to the hospital with you?  What is provided by the hospital and what do you need to provide?  What do most women wear during labor? (Sounds silly, but this question did get asked and I think most women do wonder about it.)
5. What to expect next... later stages of labor, birth positions, etc.

That would take us up to about the same point, but see how I did it in a timeline order?  See how it was easy to follow and intuitive.  She how I am made calmer by things being presented in a way that walks me through what will probably actually happen, rather than just having things randomly thrown in amongst unrelated anecdotes?  I can't be the only one... Dear NHS, I'm available for consultation and training.  I have reasonable rates and am an excellent public speaker.  Kisses, Meg

At the end of the class, was the cherry on the cake.  We found out that the Breastfeeding and Active Birth Classes are separate from these 4 courses, and were told to sign up for them by calling 2 different area Children's Centres.  This was very important information to me.  Of course, it was disseminated by 3 different people all talking at once and saying different things.  So I had to go all "Loud, Bossy American" and request that they stop, slow down, and have one person say the relevant information clearly so everyone could make note.

Then, came the part of the evening that really riled me up.  They announced that husbands and partners were not welcome at the Active Birth Class.  Um, excuse me?!  The one thing that is, in my opinion, really important for Ross to know about and be able to help me with during labor and he's not allowed?!  What is this mickey mouse bullsquash!?  I was told that some women are "uncomfortable getting into different positions in front of other men".  I say those women need to suck it up or have their own special class for sissies.  I mean, you're going to be pushing a baby out of your vagina.  At some point, you've GOT to stop being precious about it.  I was told that I could teach my husband the things that I learned later on at home.  Great.  No one else seemed surprised or annoyed by this information, but I sure was.

This morning, I called the Toodle Hill Children's Centre (How great is that name?) to sign up for the Active Birth Class.  I spoke to a very nice lady and asked about whether husbands were allowed and explained what I'd been told last night.  I sortof, kindof, totallyonpurpose got her to agree with me that it was dumb (DUMB!) if they weren't allowed because they- ya know- need to know this stuff to help us during labor.  She said she'd check and call me back.  A while later she called back and let us know that men would, indeed, be allowed.  To which I declare "HA! Victory is mine!!"  Ok, perhaps the ladies last night were giving out bad info.  Or perhaps we'll get there on Jan. 27th and they'll tell us Ross can't come in.  But for now.  

HA!

*I'm sure she's an absolutely wonderful midwife who is great at delivering babies... just not so much with the teaching and giving presentations maybe...
**I also would have arranged the room entirely differently.  It was totally not conducive to a flowing/open conversation that they kept trying (and failing) to engender.  There were about 10 tables scattered around the room, each with 5 chairs.  Yep.  FIVE CHAIRS.  For a class entirely composed of expectant mothers and fathers.  Geniuses, I say.  Geniuses.  (FWIW, I would have gone with table arranged in a semi circle around the room so everyone could see each other and the leader.)

So that's my latest rant about how I'm crazy and could run things so much better than other people.  Do other people not get frustrated by/see the incompetence out there?  Or are they just more numb to it than I am?

Did you take birth classes?  Were they any good?

Making the cut

The only reason that I sometimes have the thought that I wish Ross had been right about the sex of our child is when I try to wrap my brain around the decision of whether or not to circumcise.  It is one of the issues that, the more I research, the more confused I am.  I feel like I get further away from an answer whenever I think about it.

BLAH!  

So here are our factors:

-Ross is Jewish.  BUT he doesn't practice.  We will not be having a bris, regardless of what decision we make.

(A side story:  I was discussing the question of circumcision with my parents on the phone last night [my mom is pro; my dad offered no opinion] and mom told me that my G'ma expressed concern to her that we would be having "one of those cutting ceremonies".  My told her that it was highly unlikely.  I find it pretty funny that G'ma was so nervous that we'd be having a bris, given that I'm fairly certain she'd be disapproving at the thought of not circumcising.  I don't get why it matters to her if it was done ceremonially by a doctor [as it would be where we live], or in a hospital by a doctor.  Maybe she's picturing a shakey-handed old mohel and that makes her nervous?)

-We live in the UK.  Circumcision is not common here.  Whereas in America, it's fairly common and often considered a no-brainer of a decision (though less so these days), here the only people that routinely circumcise are the ones who do so for religious reasons.

So my initial instinct, before I even did any reading about it was: Yes.  Circumcise.  

I think all of my friends who have sons are circumcised.  

My dad and brother are circumcised.  Growing up in America, I just always assume that men are circumcised. 

My husband is circumcised.  The baby should "match" his dad, right?

But then I started thinking... Are those good reasons?  I mean "father and son" genitalia isn't on any of the must-have lists in fashion magazines this year.  And the rest of the world seems to view the US as strange in it's predisposition towards cutting.  

I asked Ross, and he's no real help.  He says he doesn't have strong feelings one way or the other.  When I said "If I left it entirely up to you, what would you do?"  He said he probably wouldn't, because why do a procedure that doesn't NEED to be done.  

So I just don't know.  I get both sides.  I really do.  I guess we need to talk to the midwife to find out what our options even are...  I'll keep you posted on what she says.

What are your thoughts on making the cut?

(And I know this topic can get heated, so please... be respectful!)

They don't have Saltines in England

...or What's a pregnant expat to do?

It's universally acknowledged in America that the go-to food for a morning sick mom-to-be is the glorious Saltine.  I've long loved this cracker.  So crisp and salty.  They are delicious and I dare anyone to tell me otherwise (Unless of course, you are talking about stale ones like the one I ate at my grandparents' house last year, only to find it was approximately 20 years old.  It tasted like play-doh and butt.)

Vintage tin? Ok.

Vintage saltines?  Not.

I was distressed, upon moving to England to find that they are not available here.  I wondered what I would do when future Meg was pregnant.  I joked that I would get my mom to mail them to me.  I introduced Ross to my tasty cracker (I didn't mean that to sound dirty, but I'm leaving it 'cause it makes me laugh) and he was a convert.  We set out to find a Saltine substitute.  We reasoned that the UK has plenty of crackers on offer and there must be something that could hold it's own against the champion of all crackers.

Jacob's Cream Cracker

The number one brand of cracker in the UK (according to their own website) is Jacob's.  Their Cream Cracker seemed the most promising candidate.  Ross really likes them, and they look somewhat similar to a saltine.  It's a little bigger than a saltine, has no salt and is a bit thicker (leading to less crispness).  As a cracker in it's own right, they're ok.  They have no shot at replacing my Saltine-y goodness.

We eventually found a winner.  They still are not as light and crispy as a saltine, but they're pretty darn good.  They appear to be Italian, are pretty easy to find in most grocery stores on the cracker aisle, and are pretty cheap.  

Personal picture

 One of the big pros of these crackers is that they come in smaller packs.  If you've ever busted into a sleeve of Saltines, you know how hard it is to stop yourself.  Before you know it, you've eaten a whole huge sleeve! (Or is that just me?!)  Anyway, these come packaged in smaller, more appropriately-sized servings.

So with my Saltine substitute in place, I knew I would be ok for morning sickness.  I actually ended up being really lucky on the nausea front.  I had some *ahem* VERY close calls, but am proud to say that at 23 weeks I still haven't puked once.  The nausea was icky, but my hatred of throwing up prevailed and I managed to exercise some mind over matter zen thinking.  Despite the lack of actual vomit, I found that I had a few foods that really calmed my stomach.

Personal picture

Above, you'll see Meg's Official Morning Sickness Meal.  It consists of my Saltine-substitutes, green olives stuffed with pimentos, and a Babybel cheese.  Something about these things really calmed my stomach.  I didn't always eat them all together.  Often a little ramekin of olives would do the trick.  Now that I'm past the morning sickness phase, I haven't had this meal as often.  I still regularly partake of the Babybels though!  

I've told a few people that my craving for olives is better than any DNA test available, in terms of proof that this child is Ross' (not that there's any doubt!).  Ross is an olive fiend!  I've always liked them too, but when I started gobbling them up I proclaimed that there could now be no question at to the father of this child!

What were your go-to foods for nausea?

Did you have to find any substitutes for foods that you used to love?

Second Midwife Visit

So after my first visit with the midwife, I didn't have anything to do but read the information she'd given me and wait.  For a month.  It seemed like torture, especially as I read blogs of pregnant Americans who were seeing the doctor, having ultrasounds, and doing all sorts of baby-related things!  Not for me.  Here in the UK it's just wait and see.  At 9 weeks I had my "booking in" appointment, thus named because the main purpose is to "book you in" to the system and decide where you want to give birth.

As I mentioned, this visit took place at our home.  I was slightly nervous about this.  I felt compelled to bake something.  To prove that I was nurturing?  Or something?  I didn't, which was a good thing as Mandy declined even a tea (a standard offering to all British visitors, including repairmen).  Ross said he thought the home visit served as another level of check.  The midwife can see what kind of home environment you have and if you are likely to need other services, either before or after the baby comes.  It sort of makes sense.

Mandy took several vials of blood and collected my syringe full 'o urine to take for testing.  Yep, a syringe.  Instead of peeing in a vial and bringing it with me, the midwife provided me with these syringe things.  You take the little yellow straw bit and put it on the end of the syringe.  Then you pee in a cup, (so now I have 2 cups in my house that I've peed in) and syringe the urine up.  Then you remove the straw, replace the cap and snap off the plunger.

Then we went through my green book and filled in the relevant info.  There were questions about whether I drink, smoke, or use drugs.  Questions about my ethnic background.  Questions about my medical history of myself, Ross, and our families.  Since all these questions were really straight forward for us, we quickly moved on to the fun stuff...

Where to give birth!  With the National Health Service (NHS) there are basically 3 options:

1.  A hospital
2.  A home birth
3.  A midwife-led birth centre

Ross and I already knew that our preference was strongly for one of these options, and after we spoke to Mandy, we were sure.  Thankfully, I met all the requirements of being low-risk to qualify for our choice- midwife-led birth centre.  I could tell that Mandy was pleased with our choice.  She told us that we would be able to give birth (assuming that I stay low risk) at the brand new, birth centre that was only just being completed.  We felt good that, by the time we needed it, the centre would still be new and shiny, but would have had enough time to get any kinks worked out.

The reasons we wanted to use the birth centre were:
1. Minimal intervention.  It is important to me to have as few interventions as I need.
2. Alternative therapies available.  I'm hoping to have a natural, medication-free birth and I believe that the midwives at the centre will help me accomplish this.  There will be no option for an epidural (yikes!), but will offer plenty of alternative pain relief including massage and birth pools.
2. A relaxed environment, supervised by women whom I have gotten to know over the course of my pregnancy.  The centre should feel less sterile and clinical and more relaxing.  There is usually one-to-one care from a midwife throughout the entire birth process.  We will most likely have a private room and bathroom.
3. Post-natal care.  At a birth centre you are encouraged to stay until you feel ready to go home, rather than getting the boot ASAP like in hospitals here.  There is lots of help, particularly with breastfeeding.
4. The centre is connected to our local hospital, meaning that if something goes wrong it would be quick and easy to get transferred.

Where are you giving birth?
What were the contributing factors to your decision?

Midwife Care

So after I got on the doctor's books- via a brief check up with a nurse,  (Urine in a purse update:  I decided to just arrive early and fill the jar once I was at the doctor's office.) I went to my first appointment with Mandy on August 9th.  I was about 5 weeks pregnant.

Me on August 9th.  Having lunch at our favourite deli after seeing the midwife.*

Mandy is the community midwife affiliated with my doctor's office.  She's based out of a Children's Centre which is next door to the doctor's office.  The Centre seems like a really neat place.  Besides the midwife's office, there are all sorts of community services (like educational and recreational classes for parents and kids) available.  It's a cheerful little building that I can see using as a resource quite a bit after Baby Ameringlish arrives.

Mandy struck me straight away as just the kind of person I want involved in my prenatal (or antenatal, as it's called here) care.  She exudes a sense of professionalism and competence, while still remaining warm and friendly.  She gave us a giant packet of materials to look through later.

The packet 

The contents of said packet 

(Mostly useless. Lots of flyers and coupons and wasted paper.) 

Then she explained some of the general timeline to us and walked us through our official paperwork.

Our official maternity paperwork.  Apparently, this green packet is so official that it legally 

proves I'm pregnant.  The diary on the top right corner is just there to cover the section with

my personal information.  The packet is 21 pages long and is filled in with all my relevant 

information throughout my pregnancy.  

After a brief visit, and scheduling our next visit for 5 weeks later, we were on our way.
Yep!  That's right.  No physical exam.  No weighing.  Nada.
We left and it still felt more than a little surreal.  I hadn't known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't that.
I kept thinking that surely, someone should DO something.  Like CHECK that I was ACTUALLY PREGNANT.

Next up.  Our second midwife appointment.  AT OUR HOME.  Yep.  That's right.  They make house calls here.

Did anything about the prenatal process surprise you?
Did you want reassurance that you were actually pregnant from a medical professional?

*Funny story.  Ross posted this picture to Facebook and my Uncle commented that I was glowing.  Ross said, "Your mom wouldn't have told him?  Would she?"  I didn't think so.  After going public, we confirmed that it was just a coincidence.  I think the light in this deli is just really good :)

The 2nd most influential factor in getting pregnant

The number one thing that helped me get pregnant was having sex.  Duh.

But besides that, I did something that I truly believe helped me conceive.
I am not normally into new agey or non-traditional treatments for things.  In fact, I don't often go in for treatments full stop.  I would probably put myself in the "suck it up and get on with it" camp when it comes to most things.  Now my husband is not a fan of medications and doctors in general.  He prefers to find natural treatments for ailments.  After I moved to England, I was complaining of my usual little aches and pains and my husband suggested that I try something that he'd used with good success.  My pains were mostly old ballet injuries to my joints which caused them to ache and swell from time to time, as well as a general extremely tight muscles in my shoulders.

Early dancing days

And so I went to see a Bowen Therapist for the first time.  The Bowen Technique has to do with small movements or adjustments performed on muscle groups.  Conceptually, the body wants to be healthy and function properly, but has gotten stuck in a bad habit.  The theory is that the movements "reset" the body, allowing it to heal itself.  (That's the short version, as interpreted by me.)

Ann, the practitioner, commented that I was carrying a lot of tension and mentioned the connection between being physical uptight and being uptight as a personality trait.  I laughed and said, "I don't really think of my self as a tense person consitutionally."  She basically said, "You can't argue with these shoulders.  You ARE uptight."

I had to admit she was right.  After seeing Ann, I started to notice how often I was tensing my muscles (i.e.  standing with my butt cheeks totally flexed, clenching my jaw, etc).  I started making an effort to force myself to relax.  And boy was it an effort!  But as time went on, it got easier and I noticed that I wasn't carrying as much tension.

At a second visit to see Ann, I mentioned that I was very prone to UTIs.  I would get them really easily, and had even had a really bad one that resulted in me going into sepsis.  Yikes!  She did something to my abdomen.  I'm still not sure what it was.  It wasn't really part of the Bowen therapy.  She described it as an "add on treatment" that she offers sometimes.  I think she said she was removing energy blockages.  **Cue my eye roll**  She pressed rhythmically on areas of my lower stomach (forcefully, but not painfully) and made whooshing noises.  I was sceptical to say the least.

A few days later, the area she'd worked on started coming up in dark purple bruises that lasted a couple of weeks.  These were some serious bruises.  And my UTIs immediately got better- in fact, I haven't had a hint of one since then.  My next cycle was totally wonky and made me think I was pregnant and then crazy.  One more treatment after that (which included removing more energy blocks from my abdomen) and I was pregnant.

Coincidence?  Possibly.  But I'm not convinced.  It makes sense to me that if things (energy/chi/whatever) weren't flowing right in an area related to baby making, that it would impact my ability to conceive.  Like I said, I have no proof that this new agey "energy work" helped me get pregnant, but I still believe that it is a key factor.

Did you try anything unorthodox to get pregnant?
Or did you maybe stumble upon something that you didn't think was related to your fertility that ended up having an impact?

Waiting Game pt. 4

So how did you like them apples?
We liked 'em a lot here at the Ameringlish house.

I'll tell you the longer version of that story now.  Because I like to overshare.  Whatever.

As I mentioned, I'd been feeling off for the last couple of weeks.  It was really messing with my head and I wasn't trusting my instincts because of the prior month's weirdness.  While Ross and I were eating our lunches on  Wednesday, I was a bit down.  He asked what was up and I confessed that I was sick of not feeling good, but not being pregnant.  Ross then asked if that meant I thought I wasn't pregnant.  I admitted that I had no idea.  It was driving me batty.  We decided that we'd go to see the doctor if this month was a no-go too.

Later in the afternoon, I decided to go for a little walk over to the nearby shopping centre.  I wanted to clear my head and get some air.  Once I got there I bought a bottle of water (I'd been unusually thirsty for the past few days).  Then, on the spur of the moment, I walked into the Superdrug and bought a pack of 2 pregnancy tests.  I went back to the Costa Coffee where I'd bought the water and sat down to drink it.

Once I was done, I nervously went into the bathroom and did the deed.  I figured it was still several days before my period was due, so there wasn't much chance of a positive result.  I thought I'd put the test in my pocket and by the time I'd done the quick walk back to the warehouse to see Ross, it would have developed.    Wrong!  Before I was done washing my hands I was looking at 2 bright pink lines.  In shock, I grabbed the stick, put it in my pocket and practically ran back to Ross.

As I approached the warehouse, I saw the guy who picks up our shipments in his big yellow van.  I thought he was heading towards us to do his afternoon pick up.  "Oh no!"  I thought, "He's going to get there right when I do and then I'm going to have to wait to tell Ross... and I might die!!!! OMG LOLZ blarahghg!"  Then the van turned to go the other way.  Whew!

I bounded into the front door to find Ross sitting and having a little break.  He took one look at my face and said "You seem bouncier."  I whipped out my Pink Pee Stick of Victory and shoved it in his face.  "LOOOK!"  I saw the confusion pass over his eyes.  Ross later told me that his initial thought was that it was a beauty product of some sort and that he was trying to figure out if it was some kind of blush or something- since he knew I needed more blush.  In less than a second, though, my smart man had figured it out (or "twigged it", which I find to be a charming expression).  Ross looked closer and said, "Is that positive?"

As if I'd have been that "bouncy" for a negative!  Duh.  I then explained to Ross how to read and pregnancy test and how it works.  Then we were happy.

THE END
THE BEGINNING*

*Blaargh.  I know that's totally cheesy, but I'm allowed.  Squeeeeee!

Waiting Game pt. 3

written June 25, 2011

I've mostly kept my promise from last month and am being much less insane.
I'm over the halfway point in this month's two week wait.
I admit to trying actively to avoid putting too much focus on any symptoms I'm having (part of this whole "less-insane" plan).  This month is COMPLETELY different than last month.
Which in some ways makes me feel positive...

I'm feeling slightly superstitious and so I'm leaving the symptoms out for now... but I've got my fingers crossed.

written June 29, 2011


I was doing a pretty good job of staying "not insane".  Or at least keeping up appearances.
Last night I posted a funny story on facebook.  It went something like this:
Ross told me he had accidentally killed a baby grape.  He showed me a tiny squished grape.
I pretended to be really upset by this and burst into tears (I'm a totally awesome fake cryer, y'all!) and lament the fate of the poor grape.  I went on to demand a grape funeral, complete with a tiny casket. (Those dramatic improv skills are good for something!)
Ross looked at me bemused.  Well 80% bemused and 20% terrified.
He admitted at that point that he wasn't entirely sure whether or not I was genuinely crying.
I then busted out my evil laugh and declared victory.  I apparently like to declare victory- over what?- I'm not so sure.  Over sanity?

Well that's only half the story folks.  The other half of the story takes place 2 days prior.
Ross is always riding me for not telling him when I don't feel good.  I hate complaining and it doesn't help that his general response is to tell me how much worse he feels than I do, which just irritates me.  I swear- the man can top any ailment with something either form the current hits or his back catalogue!  I've been about 100 times more whiney lately than I'm comfortable with.  This is all very important background.  Oh wait!  One more bit.  Remember when "Anonymous" accused me of being very whiney in the comments of a post?  Well that's become a running joke 'round these parts.  I know!  A running joke!  How shocking...

So anyway.  We were getting ready to go do a little extra work at the warehouse and I was feeling a little yuck.  Ross suggested that I didn't have to come help and I was welcome to stay home.  I got a bit weirdly defensive and said, "What's the point.  I was sooo bored yesterday.  What would I do all day?"  Ross instantly replied, "Well, you could whine."  He was of course, implying that I could work on my blog.  He was making a joke.  I, however did not take it that way.  I did my patented, withdrawal and silence of anger.  Ross knew he'd said the wrong thing and that I was pissed.  He explained what he meant and apologized for hitting a nerve.  I was still irritated when we left.  We got about 2 minutes down the street.  Ross again, apologised and said many soothing words.  (He's like the best husband ever.)  I took the opportunity to freak the f out.

Seriously, I went from tight jaw of anger to this:

Not me, but an accurate representation

in about 10 seconds.  We're talking shuddering gasps and sobs.  Not sweet little deweyness of the eyes like last month.  Nope- raging floods of tears.  Ross was totally bewildered (and I'm sure more than a little freaked out) and pulled over the car into a side street.  I spewed some nonsense while he rubbed my hand an said reassuring things.  I remember wailing  "I'm not even that upset about it!"  It was like some crazy intense storm and had diffused into the pitiful staccato intakes of breath that happen when a child is wrapping up a tantrum within less than 90 seconds.

So that is why the grape-crying story was so funny.  We were both poking fun at my insanity.  

Did you read all that?

If so you get a reward.  Guess what I did today in the Costa Coffee bathroom?

I took a pregnancy test.

And before I even finished washing my hands I saw this.

BOOM!*

*Ok, so that has slightly less impact now, since you already know I'm pregnant... but when I wrote it, it was very VERY dramatic.