Matthew hiccups:

Matthew’s birth story, behind the cut. It only took me 13 days to finish it up!

You’re just too good to be true.
Can’t take my eyes off you.
You’d be like Heaven to touch.
I wanna hold you so much.
At long last love has arrived
And I thank God I’m alive.
You’re just too good to be true.
Can’t take my eyes off you.
- Frankie Valli
Read the rest of this entry »

That’s what this week felt like. One week ago today, I was at the hospital, about to be induced (for the second time, the story of which will come soon, I’m sure). And today, we were just re-released from the hospital, where we were admitted for the second time on Tuesday, when Matthew’s bilirubin levels were elevated to the point of needing immediate phototherapy. Tuesday, after his first pediatrician’s visit, the doctor called and said that he needed to be admitted to the pediatric unit to receive phototherapy - a weird blue light over an isolette.

We woke him up every two hours to breastfeed, to some latter success as we went along; my milk finally came in as we were at the hospital, so his weight went up from 7lb 10oz on Tuesday to 8lb 3oz today.

So many parents go through so much more crap than we went through with premature babies, so a part of me feels awfully silly about moaning about it. It’s tough, seeing your new baby alone, with a set of “sunglasses” velcroed to his face, in a glowing box. Every time we had to take him out to breastfeed, we had to remove this glowing blanket and arrange him just so. At 2AM the first night we were there, the nurse and doctor asked me to pump breastmilk and feed it to him in a bottle. The first time I pumped from one breast, I got what seemed to me to be a pitiful amount, considering how very much Matthew needed to gain weight, and when he ate it all really quickly, I cried because I wasn’t able to nourish him appropriately.

I cried a lot - partly due to post-partum emotions in flux, I’m sure, and partly because even though it’s a common issue for babies to have, it’s hard not to let those “what if”’s into play - What if I didn’t have diabetes, would this have made a difference for Matthew’s bilirubin levels? What if this, what if that, why didn’t the pediatrician on-call do something about this sooner, etc. ad nauseam. And the biggest reason - that’s my son underneath those lights, not in my arms. I don’t care if this has happened to 90% of the world’s population before, this is happening right now to my baby boy, and I don’t like it one little bit.

Yeah, talk about your hormonal fluctuations. Anyway, we’re home, he’s fine, and now we really can rock the whole building a family and a life together thing. Thank goodness.

Matthew Shin-Chieh was born on July 14th, 2006, after being induced on July 13th. He weighed in at 8lbs 6oz, 20 inches long (noggin - 15 1/2 inches !!!), has my eyes, nose, and ears. I have never fallen in love quite so hard and quite so completely. I look at him and tears well. So gorgeous.

Things are going well. He came into the world teaching me how to help him nurse. I am in the midst of typing up his birth story, and getting to know my son. My son. Wow.

Last night I idly wondered what would happen if I stayed pregnant forever. I’d have to install a little window in my belly so the baby could see out into the world. Maybe plug an ethernet cord in my belly button so he can learn how to use the internet. I’d have to buy a wagon to cart my belly, and go to school all over again (but I liked kindergarten, so maybe that’s not such a bad deal, huh?).

OB visit today and - you guessed it - no dilation, no effacement. Yes, it’s good that I lost my mucus plug (”Eh, but I’ve had patients who’ve lost it and immediately gone into labor, and a few who lost it and a month later were still waiting.”), yes it’s good that I’m cramping, no it wasn’t amniotic fluid that leaked the other day (subconciously he was saying, You peed your pants. Hahahahahahahaha.). We scheduled my induction date for Tuesday, July 25th, so if I don’t spontaneously go into labor by then, that’s when we’ll do the deed. Le sigh.

I know I’m not at 40 weeks yet, I know that he needs some more time to cook (it must be cooking, because frankly he has no room to like move, so what else could he need time to do?), but I am so, so very ready to get this show on the road.

The plus for induction is that there’s a definite end date in sight, and timing-wise it’ll be really awesome to have my mom here to help support me. The minus? Well, induction in general. I fully support the reasoning behind it, I just really don’t wanna.

Also, I asked finally about how my diabetes/blood sugar will be maintained while in labor at the hospital - I’ll have a glucose and insulin drip to keep my levels maintained (and, good news, I can check my own blood sugar! This excites me more than you’ll ever know, because in my experience, nurses can’t check my blood sugar without driving me fucking insane with pain!). The bad news, and news that really bummed me out, is that the insulin means that I won’t be able to donate cord blood (they don’t accept cord blood from diabetics who are on insulin, even though I’ll only be on for such a short period of time). Bah.

Anyway, the positives/amusing notes for the day - I don’t have group B strep, so that’s one less thing I have to worry about. My blood pressure was a-okay (I think good and calm thoughts as she’s checking). And amusing: as I left the office, I told the nurse, “See you next week!”

She laughed. “Oh, maybe not! You’ll go into labor before then!” Dr. K was in the hall and snerked a little.

“Oh, she’ll be back. Trust me.” Such a wiseguy. Alas.

Wah.

Josh: “Your two favorite things in this world are cutting chip bags in half and the words ‘box fans’. You are OBSESSED with the words box fans.”

And I am. Right now my fondest desire would be to have a box fan that I can put in the window and bring fresh cold air right to my overheated furnace of a body.

Box fan. Box fan. Box fan!

Check out that dirty mirror, man. Someone should nest around here. Probably won’t be me. One more for the road:

I can’t tell if I’ve dropped just by looking at the pictures. I can’t feel him lower - Josh’s dad asked him the other day if I was waddling yet - apparently when Josh’s mom was pregnant and he finally dropped, that’s when the waddling started.

***

I brought my (ugh) 24-hour urine sample, hidden in three opaque bags because while free-flowing urine on the el is perfectly commonplace (especially on the red line), it is not usually free-flowing from me. Bloodwork done, got to work and made an appointment for Wednesday.

Pregnancy isn’t pretty. I’m thinking back on these 9 months and all of the really weird things that it changes about you (instead of the happy-go-lucky meta type things), like:

- cervical mucus. When you’re trying to conceive, the easiest and most common comparison to judge the quality of cervical mucus is to describe it in terms of eggwhites. “Eggwhite cervical mucus” - ideal condition for sperm to meet their mate. Yech.

- Gas expression. The gas, it freely flows, from both ends, and frankly now I just don’t care. I have very little space in my belly or intestines to keep it in, so I am lettin’ it out.

- Pee envy. When I go to the bathroom 402348934 times a day at work and someone else is peeing next to me, and peeing heartily, I sigh a little and yearn for the day where after I go to the bathroom I’ll be able to leave… and not think about peeing again for at least an hour, instead of right when I zip my pants up. Or not have to pee in a jug for 24 hours, which I’ve had to do twice. Bleh!

- Mucus plug. Need I say more?

At any rate, despite how gross it’s been, I’ve become more zen about this whole two week wait thing today, and I don’t know if it’s because I’ve given up on going into labor anytime soon (I thought waters might have broken yesterday, but… no. And that’s all I’ll say about that!) or if I’m just really having a good day. Parts of me are anxious, parts of me want to slow it all down again. I’m a mess.

I wish my belly had a little pop-up timer that pings when the contents are done, like a turkey. Or maybe a ticker tape that prints out of your vagina like at a carnival with a fortune telling machine that says, “Your baby is now done. Proceed to the hospital and deliver.” How neat would that be?

Until then, I wait.

So, I forgot to mention in my last entry that I have to do another 24-hour urine collection to check on the protein levels (ugh). The last time I did this, they didn’t give me a urine “hat” - imagine a bedpan of sorts for the inside of the toilet - so there was awkward fumbling around and tricky aerobics I needed to do to perform this feat. Luckily at the time I was only about 20 or so weeks along, and was a fair amount more flexible than I am right now.

I’m doing this urine collection today, and affix the hat (lift lid, place hat on the toilet, lower seat, pee) and do my business. I lift the lid afterward, take care of the urine (god, this is so disgusting and why pregnancy isn’t pretty at ALL), and go about the rest of my daily routine.

Josh came in from walking the dog, and in my haste to rush out of the bathroom to hear about his walk, I skipped a step in the urine collection process, which I didn’t realize until he came out of the bathroom later.

“Casey, it would be really nice if after you were done using the bathroom, you could put the toilet seat down,” he says with a snicker and gleam in his eye.

Ha!

(I feel somewhat obligated to mention that Josh never leaves the seat up - he always puts it down after he uses the bathroom, so to have the toilet seat up in our household is an odd sight, indeed.)

As the title infers, I am a) still here and b) still pregnant. The non-stress test and the amniotic fluid check went fine on Friday; I met with a pediatrician and have decided to go with her - appropriately supportive but realistic as well.

Yesterday, though, was the really fun day! The fabulous ladies of 3WA planned a surprise online/offline baby shower for us, while we met with Stenya, Trumanfly, and Zivvie from 3WA. They conspired for the past few months to get these gifts together, planning things in secret google groups and everything. I can’t say how completely touched we are about everything. So very touched.

It takes a village to raise a child, according to an African proverb. It is totally true. At the very least, it takes a community to welcome a child into the arms of the world, and we are so very lucky that our child is coming into the arms of this community. Thank you so much, you guys. Our baby will have the very best aunties and uncles out there, watching his back.

***

In the “TTC” (trying to conceive” circles, there’s a thing called “2WW” - the two-week wait from when you ovulate to when a positive pregnancy test (or AF - Aunt Flo, or your period, for the less twee among us). Those two weeks, especially for women for whom conception and pregnancy have eluded them, are probably the longest two weeks ever.

Except for these two weeks. Tomorrow I will be at 38 weeks, 2 weeks before my due date. Next Sunday Josh’s parents arrive into town and begin the wait with us. Our baby to-do list is growing shorter, as is my work to-do list. I am antsy and anxious to meet this small person taking up residence in my abdomen, pushing things like my bladder and spleen off to the side; and then, I can’t wait to introduce him to the village welcoming him home.

Click below for icky.
Read the rest of this entry »