Every Day a New Discovery

This week you discovered your hands. You were sitting in your high chair, and I was feeding you dinner. You like feeding yourself finger foods, so we try to incorporate some waffles or pieces of bread, something you can grab in every meal. After you successfully maneuvered an item into your mouth, your moving fingers caught your attention. You chewed slowly, examining the hand that had caught your attention, the right one. You moved your fingers gently, and reached your left hand over to touch them. You turned your right hand backwards, and then frontwards again, checking it out thoroughly. You waved it a little bit and then examined your fingers again. I was in awe watching you, imagining the wheels turning inside that big head of yours, realizing for the first time that that hand is yours and you can use it as you wish.

You are scooting across the floor, using your hands to pull you forward while your big toe helps bring up the rear. You have made progress in this technique over the past 10 days or so, and you lift your butt up and position yourself on your knees, but you haven't graduated to full crawler status yet. We're in no hurry, as you are so adventurous and fearless, that once you figure out how to move quickly, you're gonna take off. You are also "cruising" furniture; holding on while standing up and working your way around each piece slowly. Your favorite place to do this is on the ottoman in your room, which I covered with a blanket that has a big fuzzy doggy head on it. You can't pull yourself up there yet, but once I position you in front of him, you do your little crackle laugh (almost sounds like a cough) and grab him by the ears and nuzzle him affectionately. Of course you also still have to taste everything, as part of your normal development. I don't think that fuzzy doggy tastes too spectacular, though.

Today I am taking you to your aunt Amy's for an overnight visit, while your Dad and I go out to dinner and to a Halloween Party. This is the same party we went to last year where I incorporated you into my Humpty Dumpty costume, which everyone loved. You were adorable even before you came out! You are going to be a monkey for Halloween, and I am going to bring your costume to Amy's so you can play dress-up with your cousins, who I am sure are anxious for the holiday to arrive. Tomorrow we are going to Alpine Village in Torrance for Oktoberfest, which I know you will love. Anytime we take you among crowds of people with music and great, happy energy, you light up like a Christmas Tree.

At nine months old, you are truly the most wonderous thing that has ever happened to me! I love you with all my heart!

Five Months

Dear Matthew,

Tomorrow you turn five months old, and this is my first entry in over two months. When people tell you that your child is going to grow up fast, they mean FAST. Compounded by my return to work and our limited time together, you are growing at a pace I can barely keep up with. Every day after I have fed you your breakfast - which you still take on the boob, thank you very much - I hold you up so you can stand on your own two feet and ask you, "How much did you grow last night?" You always respond with a smile and an outward look, as if you might have some idea of how many wonders in the world are waiting for you out there.

So much has happened since I last wrote about you, I regret that I haven't documented more of it. There was your baptism when you were just three months old, for which your Godmother Josie came down from Alaska, and a party that was attended by all of your family and just a few close friends. It was such a special day, and came on the heels of a wonderful evening I spent playing rock and roll with your Dad and Grandpa. I am so glad that your other Godmother, Aunt Amy, talked me into doing a real Catholic baptism for you, because the experience was such a special one and felt truly reverent and sacred. More than once I held back tears that day, and not just from sleep deprivation, but because you, my first born son and light of my life, were dedicated to God and Jesus in the most perfect way. Even in the photos it was said that God's light was shining upon you.








My return to work has got us in a new routine that involves two days at a great day care facility, book-ended by a day with Daddy and a day with your Grandpa. Every other Friday I am off work and I relish spending the whole day with you uninterrupted, as we go shopping together, take walks and sometimes jogs to the park, and play together all around the house. I always put you on your tummy and help you sit up, and recently started practicing spoon feeding you some peas, rice cereal, and sweet potatoes. So far it's the sweet potatoes you prefer, and you won't happily eat anything that hasn't been warmed to the perfect temperature. But even when you fuss, you really are such an agreeable baby, and your Grandpa had a great day with you today, saying you were very "readable." Not only that, but you actually enjoy when I read to you, as I have from your first Bible, which was a gift from Josie. I also read "Goodnight Moon" to you. Your Dad likes to turn on "Yo Yo Gabba" and "Sesame Street" for you while you stand in your exercise gym we just got for you at a garage sale last weekend. Mommy thought it was time to change things up for you and give you some new challenges to stimulate your mental and physical growth. When I dropped in on your pediatrician's office last week just out of curiosity for your current weight, you came in at 17 pounds, 12 ounces. Whoa baby!



You are such a joy to wake up with every day. Now that we have you in your crib, sleeping on your own almost 12 straight hours every night, I actually miss you while you are in dreamland. When I do finally hear your sweet voice talking to your mobile or maybe just to yourself somewhere around 6:30 a.m., I walk into your room, put on my biggest smile, and say, "Hiii!" Your response is absolutely irresistable. You hear me first, look and see me second, and your whole face lights up with an excited smile finally. Today I even saw your arms open up and ask me to pick you up. I usually spend a couple of moments just enjoying your reaction, though, and marveling at how you've woken up to the world and find it such a happy place to be, every single day. Hold on to that spirit, Matthew, as it will carry you very far in this life.

Your Dad and I spent our first whole night away from you two weeks ago, when we went to the Central Coast for my friend Rebecca's wedding. I was a little anxious to leave you - yes, just a little, even though many moms are much harder with this milestone - but I knew you would be in the best of hands with your Dad's niece Alisa. (We call her Auntie Alisa but she is actually your cousin.) We dropped you off early on a Saturday morning and embarked on an extremely romantic getaway to Paso Robles, where we spent the entire afternoon wine tasting, before going to Zenaida Cellars for the ceremony and reception. The wedding was beautiful and the reception was lovely, and we enjoyed glass upon glass of red wine while dancing and singing and simply enjoying an entire evening to ourselves for the first time, really, since you were born. I wish I could say I slept in at the hotel that evening, but I am so auto-programmed to your routine that I didn't get any more sleep than usual. No matter; for the most part you give me and yourself all the necessary sleep on a regular basis. You are SUCH a good baby.

I was thrilled to have you back in my arms when we came to pick you up on Sunday, and last weekend I was off on Friday and I spent the weekend playing with you and loving on you as much as possible. All day long I am kissing your cheek, squeezing your chubby legs and holding your little hands, pulling you up into a sitting position and helping you lay down again. I want to be there for every smile, every giggle, every tooth and every tear. I always tell you I've got you covered, and that you will have everything you need as long as I take care of you. And I will, baby, I promise.

Love,

Mama

Mother's Milk

I have posted before about how much I enjoy breastfeeding, but I need to post about it again, because this week brought about a classic case of not knowing what you have until it is taken away.

Due to one of the greatest modern inventions of the 20th century - the electric breast pump - going back to work full-time no longer necessitates the end of breastfeeding. I have spent this past week at work taking a break every two-and-a-half hours to pump milk, taking it home at the end of the day and bottling it for Matthew the next day.

That is, until Wednesday night, when something tragic put an end to my udder bliss. I won't go into detail, but suffice it to say I am now of the belief that latex and lube should always be sold in bundles.

Thursday morning I made an important stop at the pharmacy for the so-called "morning-after pill", to put an urgent stop to the immediate expansion of Matthew's family tree. I inquired with the pharmacist whether it was safe to take while breastfeeding. As the line of people behind me grew ever longer, he explained to me that even though the drug doesn't indicate a warning, it includes a strong dose of estrogen and I should probably consult my gynocologist on the matter. One hesitant phone call later and my doctor's nurse directed that I should probably "pump and toss" for the next couple of days. Stubbornly refusing to accept defeat, I put in a second call to Matthew's pediatrician, who indeed confirmed that the drug would not be safe for my baby boy.

I was heartbroken. As if it weren't enough that we were already in the midst of our first week apart from each other. The dreaded guilt of a working mom was immediately compounded. The morning and evening feedings had just become our own special time to literally reconnect! My first visit to his daycare center was during my lunch hour and specifically designed to include breastfeeding; to remind him that I was still close by and would never abandon him. Now, because of our birth control FAIL, my little handsome man would be getting nothing but a bottle until this forty-dollar drug could work its magic. And even THAT was only going to happen on a prayer.

I swallowed my pride and followed both doctors' orders, and Matthew has been happily accepting the bottle at every feeding, getting everything he needs. I try not to pout about that, and am happy that my baby is adjusting well to the new routine. Obviously the separation anxiety is mostly mine to bear, and I am doing fine in all honesty. Although I must admit, I would much rather be walking him to the park, doing tummy time on my bed, or putting him down for a nap at any given point during my work day. The closeness I experienced with him is now reduced to 10-minute pumping sessions in the breakroom, as I gaze at his newborn photo and massage out every last drop of elixer gold.

It's been nearly 48 hours since I took the second dose per the directions, and I am giddy with excitement to breastfeed him this evening. All of the pumping I've been doing this week (and especially the last couple days) has trained my breasts to fill more completely and frequently every few hours, and I am more confident than ever that he will be able to enjoy breastmilk only for the next many weeks, if not months. My goal is to continue breastfeeding until he is at least 6 months old, but now that I've experienced what it's like not to do it, I may end up going longer. Yes, it is a sacrifice, as I can't drink as often as others and there is some public awkwardness occasionally. But I don't know how so many mothers can voluntarily go without having this experience. For the closeness I experience with my baby, especially in this time of separation, right now I wouldn't give up breastfeeding for anything.

Two Months

Dear Matthew,

Tomorrow you turn two months old, and I have to say that the time since you were born has been the happiest of my life. Every day I take so much joy in feeding you at my breast, taking you on walks to the park, watching you sleep in the rear view mirror and sharing you with my closest friends and family. Right now you are changing by the day, having already grown to 24 inches and about 12 pounds, and your dad and I are so glad that you are healthy and on your way to becoming a very strong little boy.

I realized yesterday that I am the only one who could have brought you into this world, and that you are the only boy I was meant to have as my first son. That makes us very specially intended for each other, and I intend to raise you to be a wonderfully loved human being. I will always be here for you and always ensure you have what you need.

This week marks the last full week I will enjoy with you before I must return to work full time, and the reality of this started to really hit me a few days ago. I played a couple of shows with my old band over the weekend and I had no idea how hard it would be to leave you just for a few hours those evenings, even when you would be in the best of hands. An hour or so before I was ready to leave on Friday night I found myself in tears, and realized that it was more than just the evening that would see us apart - it was the months ahead of us. It didn't matter that you would be in an excellent day care two days per week and with your dad and grandpa the remainder; it only mattered that you would not be with me. After having you live inside my body for ten months and rely on it for food ever since, thinking about being apart from you for any length of time is like considering leaving the house without my legs.

This morning you were very fussy, having woken up earlier than usual and receiving a bottle instead of a breast as we prepare you for the increased bottle feedings ahead of you. We put you right back to bed after eating. As I made my own breakfast in the kitchen, you were unrelenting in your crib, and I tried to let you cry yourself to sleep but it wasn't working. I finally changed your diaper and let you sit with me a while in the kitchen, but you continued to show me how tired you were. I couldn't put you back to sleep, so as soon as I had milk to offer, we sat down in the nursery for some breastfeeding. But you didn't reach for the breast. You just laid in front of me and locked eyes with me. I looked back at you and asked if you had just wanted to be close to mommy. Then you smiled at me. Your smile has been showing up every day and it is every bit as wonderful as I had hoped.


Seeing you so content to simply sit with me and have it soothe you so completely caused the crying to stop for you but begin in me. My tears welled up and you watched them fill my eyes. You began to suckle but continued to stare at me, and I wondered what you were thinking as I cried. Did you know I was crying just as you had been, minutes before? Did you feel how much of my crying was happiness for the amount of love I feel for you? Or was I potentially making you upset all over again? I will never know what you were thinking as you watched me cry, but you seemed to be taking it in, and I think you get your keen perception from your father.

But then you amazed me even more. I stroked your head and held you close to me, trying to control my tears, and told you once more that I love you, as I tell you countless times every day. Without lifting your mouth from the boobie sandwich, you looked at me and told me you loved me too. Except it sounded more like "muoah-mlah-wha-muoah." My crying became laughter and the tears flowed even more. Your precious innocence makes me cry like nothing else. It was a moment I cannot adequately describe here, that you and I will share in my memory always.

We have so much to look forward to, Matthew. This is only the beginning.

Love,
Mom

Redefining Love

How can I put into words the things I love the most about my son? Does "everything" sum it up? Every day with him is a remarkable new discovery. Every time I breastfeed him I am overcome with love for that look in his eyes. Holding him as I walk from the car to the house, usually soothing him with words like, "I know" or "I'm gonna feed you right now," I hold his tiny head in my hands and can't stop kissing it. Walking into his room in the middle of the night and unwrapping his swaddled blanket so that I can pick up his tiny frame and kiss his cheek on the way to the changing table is one of my favorite rituals. Laughing at his burps, his farts, the way he grunts and twists as he pushes out his poop - these are things only a mother could love. And I do. I relish them all; every ounce of his 11.1 pounds.

His daddy is just as crazy about him. He comes home from work and after giving me a big kiss and hug, always asks, "Where's the little guy?" and wants to check on him if he is sleeping. When he leaves in the morning, he always tells Matthew: "Be good for your mommy!" (and he always is.) He looks forward to giving Matthew a bottle in the evening, which has included a formula supplement lately, and putting him down to bed. His dad has been happy to be in his life, and for that I am most grateful.

The bonus is that I am happy to have his daddy in MY life. Throughout my pregnancy I kept him at a distance and thought I could do this on my own if I needed to. But from the moment I got home from the hospital he has been my partner and supporter in every imaginable way - from feeding my cat and cleaning his litterbox to taking out my garbage and picking up groceries. The emotional support and his physical presence has been the most comforting aspect to me, even beyond the household help. The other day I was fighting the routine due to lack of sleep and I became overcome with emotions, and he rushed home from work to hold me and remind me that I am "doing an awesome job." He then ordered me to go to bed or go do something for myself for a few hours. I opted to spend time with him. He, in turn, said he was going to be in charge of the baby until midnight. Then he made me dinner and tucked me in at 8:30 PM. I slept so soundly until just after midnight, when Matthew awakened and I was more than happy to feed him myself. I felt so rested already - just those 3.5 hours of solid sleep truly did make all the difference, and the fact that he had ordered me to do it made me feel like someone was protecting and nurturing me just as I nurture our son every day. Could I do this all myself? I would guess, maybe. But I am thankful beyond all measure that I instead have him at my side, on this incredible journey with me.

We share love, emotional support, and a common interest in giving our son the best possible life. By that definition, we are family.

In the Glow of Love

Today I was changing Matthew after our morning walk and feeding, and he gave me a look. It was a look that was almost as if he had something to say. I stopped what I was doing, leaned forward, started talking to him and asking him for my smile. If I've asked him once I've asked him a dozen times a day, "Where's my smile?" His dad seems to be better at extracting it than I, so far. But today, I saw my opening. I asked for it, and suddenly, his whole face relaxed, his eyes brightened, and the corners of his mouth pulled back into a grin. A contented, immaculate grin. I went crazy and thanked him and realized I was crying before I could even think about it.

He has brought about such a foundational shift into my life; a giant pivot towards the sun. Whether he's fussy in the backseat and I have to tell him we're almost home, or he's nuzzled to my breast with his hand folded alongside his mouth, I still feel a mortal connection to him. All the cliches about motherhood have proven not only prophetic, but vastly understated.

I just love him so much, and love being his mother, and am so lucky to have him. I will keep telling him every day.

Bed Buddy

Since Matthew was born, he has slept every night in the crook of my arm. Sleeping this way began as a way of ensuring he could be comforted into a restful stretch of peace, and has continued as insurance that each stretch of sleep will last around 3 hours.

Even though I love the warmth of the body and the consistency that this has brought for both of us, the habit is risky and our sleep quality will suffer over tme. The need to wean him from this arrangement is inevitable. Thus, two nights ago I began to put an unfortunate end to this fine season of peace.

It shouldn't be too bad, really. We have a co-sleeper (like a basinette but with one side lowered to the level of my bed) in my room and he sleeps fairly well in it during naps. I nurse him in bed at night and when we are done, I burp him and usually slide down into the sheets and drift right back into sleep alongside him. Now, I just have to carefully place him in the co-sleeper next to me instead. The tricky part is, I have to be absolutely certain he is asleep before I place him down, otherwise he wakes and cries and the whole process begins again from scratch, with an infant who knows he is being conned.

The net effect of this is that for the past two nights, my trusty three-hour intervals of sleep have all but evaporated. Now we wake approximately every 90 minutes. You can imagine how I feel about this change. Unfortunately it takes a toll on Matthew, too, who needs longer stretches of sleep that can only begotten by draining each of my breasts every hour on the hour.

We don't have much choice except to keep working on it. During the day I've started putting him in his crib in his own room, and perhaps soon I will take him out of my room altogether. He would probably sleep better if he were in his own space all the time, as his daddy can be quite loud with his snoring, too.

Little by little, we will get there, but this week has been a tough one.

Maximizing The Cuteness

I am making a concerted effort not to post a new pic of Matthew on Facebook every day. So instead, since those of you who come here are probably specifically seeking out such cuteness, I reserve the right to innundate my blog with pics of my gorgeous boy as often as I would like.

Here are just a highlights from the past week or so.


























And last but not least, a very cute video of my youngest nephew Nate showing an interest in the drum core alongside Bumpa, who serenaded Matthew and I one leisurely afternoon.

First Visitors

During Matthew's first two weeks of life, he was introduced to many family members and friends. I don't have pictures of everyone, but here are some moments shared between our nearest and dearest and the future rock star!







Grandma Laurie and grandpa Burt were at the hospital during my labor and returned the next morning to enjoy the fruits thereof!





My friend Angie is a former co-worker and one of the many girlfriends who politely excused me from Happy Hour for the past ten months.









My friend Angela and I hadn't seen each other in many years and broke the silence when she showed up at the hospital. It was wonderful to see her again, especially under such joyous circumstances.






Sidney and Tory are among my oldest and dearest friends and started falling for Matthew as soon as he looked at them with those big innocent blue eyes.

Trevor is Jess's 14-year old son from his first marriage and isn't quite sure what to do with his newborn brother. I am sure in no time, Trevor will be giving Matthew guitar lessons and raspberries.

Bumpa was at the hospital when Matthew was born but of course has made frequent return visits since. He is such the proud grandpa to a third grandson! He will be very helpful with childcare when I go back to work at the end of March.

The extended family (including Dan, Danny, Shawn, Susanne, Sherry, and more) have been a huge help to me with their meal offerings during their visits, and giving me a reason to shower and brush my teeth regularly.

Aunt Woob and Rodrigo brought me some champagne on a "Sunday Fun Day" and were all too happy to spend some time with baby Matthew. Can't wait for a play date with Winston!

Our friends Alex and Deborah brought their daughter Maya over when Matthew was barely two weeks old. Alex and I met about 9 years ago through a recycler ad when we were both looking for fellow musicians, and he eventually introduced me to Jess.

My old boss Kathi came by to shower Matthew with love and catch up with me and Jamie Bone, our Merit co-worker. It was so wonderful to hang with these wonderful women again!

Matthew is very lucky to be surrounded by so many supportive, loving people! We hope the visits continue!

One-Sided Conversations

Before I delivered Matthew, one of the many things I did during the agonizing wait was speculate what it would be like to be alone every day with him at home, not working. I thought I would be bored, lonely, and in need of adult stimulation. As it turns out, the latter is still true, but I am not bored or lonely in the least. My little man is turning out to be the most amazing companion a girl could ask for. I am sorry to be so obvious and predictable, but everyone was right about what it would be like to have a child for the first time. It has completely changed my life, for the better. And every day, I let him know.

Here is a summary of the dialogue that the fly on the wall hears in my condo every day. (Comments are in no particular order:)

"I love you so much, Matthew. You are the sweetest, most adorable baby in the world. I will do everything I can to make sure you have everything you need in life. You have so much to look forward to. Everyone loves you. Mommy loves you soooo much. Daddy loves you too. Everyone who meets you just thinks you are the sweetest thing. How did you get to be so cute? Did you steal all the cuteness from the other babies at the hospital? Yes you did! Oh dear, bless you! Oh my!"

It can get worse than this, but you get the idea. My son owns me. He doesn't even have to cry, because I am already on top of whatever it is he may need. As a result, or maybe just because I got really lucky, I have a very good baby.



He is breastfeeding really well, and has a hearty appetite, and I feed him on demand. I lose track of which breast we left off on. But I love the look in his eyes when he first latches on. He raises his eyebrows and gets these forehead lines that are straight from his Dad (or maybe mine!) His eyes become searching, little darts of inquisition waiting for the first drop of milk to hit his palate. When it does, the whites of his eyes slowly roll back and close as if in the beginning of a relaxing massage. Then I rub his head and his cheeks, and kiss his forehead as I hold him close to me. I had no idea breastfeeding would be such an intimate experience.

Sleep at night comes in 2- to 3-hour intervals, the roughest of which are the ones after the first block of sleep, when my body really wants it to be quitting time. Also Jess is a grizzly snorer, so when he is here it is even harder to find that much needed rest. But with Matthew, as soon as I've fed him well, he will snuggle up to me and go right back to sleep. Today we accidentally slept in until almost 10 AM. I never imagined I'd need to use an alarm clock while learning to adapt to a newborn's sleep schedule. Soon, hopefully, he will be adapting to mine.

Here we are at the 2 and a half week mark, and I honestly couldn't be happier. My son is the light of my life. I so enjoy being home with him, and already dread having to return to work at the end of March. I wish I could devote myself entirely to nurturing him for the first year or two, at least. Unfortunately, life has not set me up for that. We will make it work either way. For now, I am soaking in every moment, and will continue talking to him as though he can understand every word I say. As soon as he is old enough to know who Mama is, I want to make sure he has no doubt about her love for him.

Labor Story

After 13 agonizing days past the ultrasound due date, my water finally broke at midnight on a Friday. It wasn't so much a rupture as a leak; I woke up to a strong urge to urinate which was followed by a contraction that made me wet myself before I could make it to the bathroom. When I got there, I saw mucus and a tinge of blood on the T.P. I didn't want to get too excited, but suddenly felt that things were finally starting to happen. I called Dawnell, my doula, and gave her the info. She had just ordered a second beer at a bar with her brother, hoping that in ordering the second that Murphy's Law would kick in and she would finally be called to my side. Murphy did not disappoint, and one beer was wasted.

An hour later, after a failed attempt to simply go back to sleep, the same big contraction pulled me out of bed, and this time I didn't make it to the toilet before the water came rushing out of my bladder and made a small puddle on the floor. This was still no dam breakage, as had been promised when the ultrasound the day before showed I was carrying 25 cc's of fluid. But it was enough to confirm to me that we were officially in labor. I called Dawnell and asked her to come over, and called Jess to let him know he should probably get as much sleep as possible while he could.

Dawnell arrived armed and ready, and immediately we began walking the parking lot of my condo complex. She encouraged me to squat when I felt a contraction, which was about every 7-8 minutes. They were mild and fully tolerable. We came back to the condo just so I could change pants, as we were burning through pads quickly with my water loss. She even did a load of laundry for me after I had wetted every pair of sweats I had. She gave me a rice-filled sock I named Roger, with a face painted on the toes and a ribbon tail, and she warmed him in the microwave and placed him on my lower back as it ached horribly during contractions. I used the birthing ball a lot, and noticed Rufus was watching from a concerned distance. The contractions stayed steady throughout the night and finally started coming closer together right around the time that we had what would become my last meal: cheddar cheese, crackers and apple sauce. We called Jess at 5:30 and told him it was time to come over. Unfortunately we couldn't wake him up immediately; he'd been to a few bars with friends connected to the NAMM show. I texted him: "It's time to wake up and come over Daddy!" He finally made it to my place around 6:30 and we worked through some contractions - enough to show him this was the real deal - and then quickly made our way down the stairs and into the car. I remember owning a real sense of vindication; I had done so many things that I thought would be "for the last time without a baby," only to be proven wrong over the extended duration of baby's delay: changing the cat litter for the last time, restocking milk for the last time, visiting my Mom's for dinner for the last time - without a baby. This time, I told myself with pride, I really was Walking Down The Stairs For The Last Time Without A Baby.

I had two contractions in the car and one more in the parking lot at Hoag. But once we got into our room and were oriented with the nurses, my labor slowed down. I tried not to let it worry me, as Dawnell was there to provide tips for getting things going again. I showed our primary nurse, Gail, my birth plan, and she was fully supportive of it. All day long we were free to walk the halls without being tied to the bed, as Gail hooked me up with a mobile monitor. Jess provided nipple stimulation while I squatted on their birthing ball, and togther we slow danced to Van Morrisson, Stevie Wonder, Joni Mitchell and the Sundays. I welcomed my immediate family in my room, all of whom were so excited they stayed with me all day, even though it was becoming clearer by the hour that baby still wasn't anxious to come out.


I had not dilated at all upon arrival at the hospital, although my cervix was "paper thin." Dawnell tried not to let this discourage me, but I knew it was a bad sign. We had discussed how Cryotherapy (a procedure involving freezing the cervix to remove pre-cancerous cells, performed on me years ago) might play a part in any labor problems, but we hadn't seen anything online that could confirm this. One of the nurses tried to set me at ease saying that she had had the procedure but was able to deliver naturally with a bit of help during checks. Just before noon they were finally able to get into my cervix and stretch it to 3, but not without excruciating pain. Even so I didn't care; I just needed to feel myself progressing.

We were 12 hours into labor when a very charming doctor finally broke my bag of waters, which had been held shut by a bubble just behind my cervix. The warm fluids came pouring out and soaked into towels upon the bed. Everyone marveled at the man-made lake. I had hoped this intervention would cause my contractions to become stronger and closer together, but the first one that came after that was so mild, it was almost insulting. Dawnell said we should take a walk. I don't think I had a single contraction during the walk.

By 5 PM I had agreed to the smallest dose of Pitocin, hoping it would help things progress. Despite our best efforts, I had not dilated further and was starting to get stressed and worried. They hooked up the IV in my hand, which was also excruciating, and started the Pitocin drip, which did nothing substantial until they had increased the dose dramatically. A few hours and much moaning and groaning and silencing the room later, they checked me again and much to my heartbreak, there was no change. My cervix was not cooperating. The only light in the dark was the fact that the baby was still doing fine and that my blood pressure remained normal. But I felt control of the situation slipping through my hands, and I had absolutely nobody to blame. It was the sort of situation I had expected least of anything else. My body was letting me down.

By 9 PM the contractions were getting more intense and my family was asked to leave so that I could rest and focus. I had been offered a narcotic to take the edge off and help me rest, but I refused it, as they upped the Pitocin further. The contractions became very intense and my moaning became louder, and with Dawnell and Jess holding my hands in the dark, I started to break down, losing hope that a normal delivery could ever be mine. I knew that one cesarean meant future cesareans and that my dream of natural childbirth was becoming a fantasy. I told Jess, "He's going to cut me open, I know it," and Jess just comforted me as best he could. The pain got worse and I finally agreed to the narcotic they offered, followed by the epidural (as soon as the anesthesiologist would be available). The narcotic had an immediate fuzzy effect and helped me let go of a lot of anxiety. The epidural took away all of the pain that the Pitocin was causing. I tried to rest but really didn't sleep for long. When they checked me again at 1 AM, there was still, against all odds, no change in my cervix. The baby wasn't engaging and my cervix wasn't opening. They called the doctor and got authorization to prep me for C-section. By then, I was so exhausted, hungry, and frustrated, I no longer cared how my baby came out. I surrendured to the medical professionals around me and became glad they were there to solve the problem my body could not work out on its own.

My doctor arrived by 2 AM on Sunday the 17th of January, and he did not greet me. The nurses suggested he ask if I had any questions. "Do you have any questions?" was all he said in my direction. "No," I responded. He tossed his smug reaction to the nurses, bidding them to get stared.

Being wheeled into the operating room was a surreal experience, and it wasn't just the drugs talking. I had been walking the halls for hours with Dawnell, and every time we passed the secured area that lead to the operating room, I felt the bad omen looming over my head. It was a constant reminder of natural labor gone wrong. The months and months of reading about and planning for natural labor had me prepared to do nothing but labor naturally, and I looked upon those quarters as an area reserved for Someone Else. But then, suddenly, I was that Other Person, who despite her best efforts to be educated, prepared, and confident in her body's abilities, would end up having to rely on medical professionals to bring her baby out.

I had been trembling uncontrollably ever since the Pitocin had ramped my contractions up to unbearable levels, and although I could feel no pain, the shakes told me that my body was going through something abnormally intense. As they wheeled me into the O.R. and transferred my body from the gurney to the operating bed, they removed a blanket from me and I felt the cold sterility of the room. My shaking became uncontrollable, as now it was compounded by a drop in temperature. I immediately announced that I was freezing, and was told someone would bring me a blanket, but it did not come for what felt like eternity. A doctor on my left put something on my finger - maybe a pulse monitor - and told me to keep my hand rested down to the side, but I had no control over it and could not abide. Throughout the room people were cleaning tools and making small talk while I shivered and shook and waited for the whole thing to be over. Someone finally arrived to cover my torso with a warm blanket which brought immediate but not complete relief to my trembling and cold. Soon, Jess was next to me, armed with a camera, and before I could feel anything they let me know that the incision was cut and the baby would be out in five minutes or less.

The tugging on my belly was so strange. There was no pain at all, but I could definitely feel that my insides were being pulled and shoved and maneuvered in order to lift the baby out from within me. Jess was snapping pics and then he said, "Here he comes!" When they lowered the drape that shielded my view of the surgery and showed me my boy, I was amazed at how perfect he was. His skin was pink and smooth, he was ripe and full but not plump, he had already been cleaned of blood and vernix. Jess was so excited, but my drugged/exhausted state didn't allow me to display much enthusiasm. Inside, though, my heart was about to burst open.

"I love him so much. He is perfect."


After that I remember only small moments: locking eyes with Jess and smiling at him with gratitude. Feeling the name "Matthew" in my heart and asking Jess if it was OK to use Carter as a middle name instead of Paul (his family name). Hearing the nurses announce his birth time (2:42 a.m.) and weight (8 pounds, 9 ounces). Waiting to be wheeled out so I could finally hold him and see him. Having him laid skin-to-skin on my chest, and touching the heavenly softness of his tiny body against my chest, and feeling more love and a need to protect and cherish him than I had ever imagined.

Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

By Any Means Possible

Dear Baby:

As of today you are officially one week late. I don't mind, although I would prefer if you were as punctual as your Mom and Dad. That is something we will work on after your arrival, and after I've given you a good right spanking.

I visited my doctor today, and even though I have tried to get you to drop and stimulate my cervix to open by any means possible, he reported that "there's nothing happening there." He then launched into a spiel the horror by which I have only witnessed in countless natural childbirth books and websites over the past several months, about how we will have little choice now but to schedule a C-section, that most women delivering at Hoag are not doing it past 41 weeks, that we are risking your head not being able to come out or even your shoulders, that putting you under a pitocin-induced labor will be an unnecessary stress for you, etc. etc. etc.!! I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I thought I had selected a second doctor who was more supportive of the natural birth experience, but apparently he was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

My blood pressure is normal. Your heartrate is normal and your movements have been regular. My urine checks out fine, and I am still sleeping satisfactoraly. Thus, there is no reason to believe that I won't go into labor on my own, when you or I am good and ready and the natural process begins. But modern medicine has frightened so many women into believing that this is an exact science; that due dates are something more than just estimates. Doctors would prefer to schedule C-sections and ruin women's chances of ever having a vaginal birth than to allow an infant to prove them wrong about the risks of delayed delivery. I have heard from countless women over the past couple of weeks about how late their babies were, and they still delivered normally. But here we are - only four days past your actual menstrually-determined due date of January 7, and he's telling me that a normal vaginal delivery is likely impossible. Baby, cover your ears while I call BULLSHIT.

Tomorrow they are going to give me a stress test, where they monitor your heart rate for a longer duration and measure my contractions (if any - and yes I have had a few over the past 48 hours). If everything checks out fine, then the doctor has agreed to not intervene, and I will meet him again on Thursday to reassess our options. If they notice a problem with your heartrate, then they will probably schedule a cesarean, and it could even happen tomorrow.

Baby, please understand that I want to hold you in my arms more than anything, and I of course want you to arrive safe and sound in this world. But I am strongly objecting to the suggestion that my doctor has made, that this is no longer a normal situation. I believe in our mutual ability to endure the birth process as God intended it, and I am counting on you to do your part while I do mine. You have been such a wonderful partner with me on this journey, and I hate the idea of it ending with a situation that was completely out of our control, for no good reason. I will not risk your or my life unnecessarily, but I will continue to stand up for us in this process. We can do this. Please, help me do this in the next few days. Let us start our life together on this note, that we did it together.

The Calm Before the Storm

Dear Baby,

Today marked the day before your due date. I like to think of these times as the "calm before the storm"; the time for me to take advantage of my solitude and do all the things that people say I won't have time to do once you arrive. Because once you are here, you are going to dominate my every move, and command my full attention. Today sort of felt like my bachelorette party - the last day of my freedom-loving single life before the old ball-and-chain pulls me down into a life-long commitment.

In honor of this era, and following the sage advice of those who have birthed children before me, here is a list of things I have done recently to keep myself occupied and pass the time until you arrive:

Created this blog
Organized the kitchen and bathroom cabinets
Gone to see Avatar and Up In The Air
Watched countless additional movies on TV while laying on the couch
Colored my hair
Had a mani-pedi
Ordered prints of my digital photos, put them in albums and hung them in frames
Practiced the guitar and sang for you
Visited Amy and your cousins in Torrance
Attended Uncle Scott's CIF Football games
Read and re-read books on natural childbirth and What to Expect the First Year
Visited the day care center you will go to when I return to work
Taken long walks in the park, at the beach, at the swap meet and the mall
Read the OC Weekly cover-to-cover while drinking a half-caf at Starbuck's
Practiced saying your names out loud to see which one seems to fit best
Praying to God for a natural and safe delivery, and asking for your help
Packed a bag for the hospital
Washed and folded all of your baby clothes and blankets
Installed the car seat in my car
Stocked my kitchen with dry foods (and tried not to eat them all)
Tried to finish my bathtub installation (but at this point you will be here before the bathroom is done).

I get around 9 hours of broken sleep a night, going to bed around 9:30 and rising with plenty of energy around 7:30 in the morning. Getting in and out of bed is a bit difficult, as you have really gotten big these past couple of weeks. It is amazing feeling you inside me, and you have carried so easily, never poking my ribs or irritating my cervix. I am so grateful that my pregnancy with you has been so smooth; you have confirmed the instincts I have always had about child-rearing - that I could do it comfortably and naturally, and I hope to carry that practice all the way through to the moment you are in my arms.

Unfortunately I haven't had many indications that you are coming tomorrow, despite it being your due date, and everyone around me is very anxious for an update, which is frustrating to me. A due date is just an estimate, and is no guarantee that you are ready to greet the world. Because you have been so comfortable inside me, I have no problem with you waiting a few more days before emerging to take your first breaths, but it has been difficult to convey that to those around me who just can't wait to meet you. Modern medicine has allowed for so many women to simply schedule their baby's birthdays, enabling them to either discontinue an uncomfortable pregnancy or maximize their exclusive time with you before returning to work. But I have discussed with my doctor how I would prefer for you to come in your own time, once you are ready, and I trust my body to take the cue from you. The hospital's policy won't allow him to induce me until a week from tomorrow (Jan 11) unless you or I show signs of distress. My feeling right now is that you will be here in a few days - probably by Friday. But that isn't based on anything other than a hunch, and a hope. Artificial induction is painful and risky, and I continue to pray that we can avoid as many medical interventions over this natural process as possible.

Today I was doing my usual thing, trying to keep the condo well organized and clean while staying active and eating healthy, and when I went to take the trash to the dumpster downstairs, I accidentally locked myself out. The door handle automatically locks if I pull the door all the way shut, and I knew I was going to do this to myself someday. I didn't panic; luckily nothing was on the stove, I didn't have to pee, and I had just eaten. Your grandfather has a key to our place so I simply borrowed a neighbor's phone and called him to come to my rescue, which he obligingly did right away. As I sat on the steps and waited, I thought about moments like these and how they oddly work out for me. I was thankful that I hadn't yet given birth to you and that you were safely with me rather than inside alone. I knew I would learn from this and have the chance to correct the situation before that occasion should ever arise. I was thankful that my Dad had a key and could come help me out. Then, a couple from downstairs that I had never met walked by, and we got to introduce ourselves. The woman, Diana, said she is due in six weeks with her first baby girl, even though she didn't look pregnant at all. We had a nice conversation comparing notes and then she went to eat her In-and-Out lunch with her husband. I was thankful I had the chance to meet them. I got the feeling that Diana and I could lean on each other in the months ahead. I was thankful I locked myself out and had a chance to meet her. I like to consider the probability that we just began a long friendship, completely by accident.

My sweet baby, I so look forward to sharing my perspective on life with you. The last year has been a hard one for me, and I have just begun to make sacrifices in order to give you some semblance of the life you deserve to live. On this eve of your due date, I want you to know that I will always be here for you, devoted to you, adoring you, and cannot wait to know the person you are. I didn't want to name you before you arrived because I want you to have a say in the matter. I look forward to meeting you, getting to know your name, and thanking you for finally giving me mine.

Love,
Mama