Feeding Time at the ...

I support breastfeeding. I support it for a million and one reasons. I support it so hard, people who use formula tend to avoid me. I understand the use of formula - it is, on occasion, necessary. I hate the companies and the industry. I'm hating the sin and not the sinners, got me? Look into the Nestle boycott and you'll catch my drift pretty soon. I firmly believe that there are better options.

So, the boy and I had a shaky start. Neither of my kids had a fabulous latch, at first. I think my nipples are too big. They just can't seem to get their tiny, newborn mouths around them. With Al, I bled so profusely the first week that her diapers were pink. I needed nipple shields to draw out my nipples. It was pretty awful. Atticus was worse.

He didn't nurse in the hospital. He'd try, but his latch was terrible. I'd pop him off and try it again, but he always had the dimple in his cheek and he made the clicking noise when he suckled. It's hard when you know what is supposed to be going on, but you just can't make it happen.




All the advice in the world will only get you so far. I have huge aereolas (TMI is something you should be used to at this point). There is no way he could get nearly all that boob flesh into his mouth. But we practiced. We also consulted with the midwife, the pediatrician, the visiting nurse, and a lactation consultant. We went to the drop-in lactation clinic too. Got nothing new, no better advice, just, "keep doing what you're doing." Apparently, despite what my children do, I do know what's supposed to happen and how to work towards it.

I tried something I'd never heard of before: I cut my nails really short and let him suck my thumb before giving him my breast. With my nail against his tongue, I could feel with the pad his soft and hard palates. I had to physically push my thumb into his mouth so that my thumb would be where my nipple was supposed to be for: A) optimal nursing, and B) my nipples to stop hurting. It took a few days of practicing like this for his latch to improve, but improve it did. It's still not as great as a lactation consultant would like, but no one thinks that he's starving to death. And I'm not sore anymore!

So, first week: crappy latch, lots of pain, lots of crying.
Second week: We fixed nearly all of that, but I came down with mastitis.

I had mastitis with Al. It was terrible. It was so poorly treated that I wound up with an abscess that required surgical draining (160cc of pus), and it needed to be packed every day for over a month until it had filled in. And I needed to keep nursing on that side through all of it if I wanted to retain function of that breast. After it was completely healed I weaned Al off that breast. She had never really liked nursing on that side anyway.

Same song, second verse. One week post-partum I got mastitis in the same breast. We had just fixed the latch problem and now this. I knew better what I was dealing with, so I wasted no time in getting a prescription for antibiotics and making sure I was getting care.

Here in VT, Visiting Nurses come to check in on moms and babies. With Al, I found it embarrassing. I felt the need to clean, take a shower, brush my teeth, and put on clean clothes when the VN was coming. That shit is exhausting three days post-partum! This time? I answered the door to my cluttered home with my breast hanging out of my stained nursing nightgown. And I didn't have mastitis yet!

She, Susan, came for a follow-up a week later because she knew I had concerns about the latch. She brought the baby scale and more pamphlets about milk making supplements and lactation clinics and Le Leche meetings. She took one look at my flushed cheeks and asked if I'd started antibiotics yet. She went to the pharmacy and picked them up for me! God Bless the Visiting Nurses!

Antibiotics... I give Al organic milk because it doesn't have hormones or antibiotics in it, and here I was feeding my brand new son nothing but milk with antibiotics in it. My rationalization: the cows are given chronic low-doses of antibiotics to try to keep them from getting mastitis. Mine was a short-term dosage to cure one bout of it. The cows are contributing to the resistant strains of infection so not supporting antibiotic laced cows is a statement to the industry. I needed to get better and the drug I was given has a low incidence of breastmilk transmission. Yay for fever fueled rationalization!

After the mastitis cleared up, we weaned off that side. Remember, no matter how painful it is, you MUST continue nursing on the infected side - always first, always longest - if you want the infection to clear up. Massage the breast to help with letdown. Warm compresses to help with the pain and congestion. And nurse, nurse, nurse. Pumping will also help, but it's not as effective at draining all the ducts as nursing. Also, some nursing positions are better at draining certain ducts. Cross-cradle, the most popular hold, only drains between 30-50% of the ducts. Football hold drains up to 70% of the ducts. Good stuff to know when trying to drain them all.

Things went really well for a while. He's a restless nurser, which is really frustrating, but I've grown accustomed to it. Most of the time. It's annoying when he's crying or distracted, but that's what he does.

I can't pump. I've come to terms with that. Okay, that's a lie. Both of them. I can pump, I just get very little return. And I'm still working on being okay with that. I need to actually miss a feeding in order to get between one and two ounces of breastmilk. I also need to be looking at pictures of him while sitting in a quiet room. Please don't talk to me or look at me until I'm really going. And no heavy conversation that takes my mind off the baby or I'll dry right up. There was a really neat article in Midwifery Today about the Shy Hormone, that described this perfectly, but it's not freely accessible anymore (but you can buy or sample the book it's from here).

After the fall semester I had to give up nursing him in class. He's just too big and too noisy. He did really well for the first three months. Sleep, nurse, pee, sleep, nurse, poop, cry, coo, nurse, sleep... Having him in class was embarrassing (I was taking an undergrad class with kids I didn't know - I really stuck out with all the baby gear and the whimpering, sucking, pooping baby) but it worked. I am very grateful to my professor for being so supportive. He was obligated to accommodate me; he held Atticus and cooed at him while I packed my bag or dug for a paper. He cut me a little (just a little) slack on my in-class writings because the sudden silence would awaken Atticus and I'd have to quiet him before I could write. The professor I had been warned against as being tough and hard, was kind and supportive and cuddled my baby.

This spring, I needed to leave him home. As I can't pump, I needed to leave him home with a bottle of something other than breastmilk. He didn't like the cow's milk formula or the soy based stuff. Goat's milk saved the day. One four-ounce bottle twice a week shouldn't have freaked me out as badly as it did.

For weeks, my mother fed him a bottle while I was in class. Then one day I got home early. The bottle was made, I had pumped (nearly 2 oz!), so Mom handed me the bottle. I cried. I freaked out. It was antithetical to every fiber of my being. It's gotten a little easier each time...

He's getting a bottle a night now. An hour or two before bed Bryn makes up a 4-5 oz bottle and Atticus gulps it down like he's starving. But he usually leaves about a half ounce. Then he's content and sleeps for about four hours.

At this age (6 months) Alex has 6 teeth and was happily downing solids, but still a contented nurser. She was also consistently in the 50th percentile range for height and 25th for weight.

Atticus has no teeth, nurses fitfully, and is 75th percentile height, 10th for weight. And that's not consistent. He was 50th and 25th last time... I feel like I'm starving him. I know all about growth-spurts, my breasts, cluster-feeding, yada-yada-yada... My brain knows. My guts are in knots. So he gets a daily bottle to top him off. Is it hurting my supply? Probably. Will I give it up? Only if he wants to. So, no.

He's also started solids, which gives him solid poops (topic for another post). He loves sweet potatoes! So did Alex (and I, apparently). I turned Alex orange, she loved them so! And Mom did it to me too... I'll try not to do that to Atticus. He loves pears too. But not strawberries or bananas. Prune juice is okay, but not prunes. Not too keen on blueberry yogurt; but he loves Mum-mum's!

I wish nursing were easier for more women, including me. I love doing it when my breasts are full and he's content to nurse until he's full. I worry that he's working towards weaning. It will break my heart when it happens.

PPD Update

Back in November, I was diagnosed with PPD, but marginally. It's more like depression with a dose of newborn.

Babies are drains. Money, sleep, sanity, and any preconceived sense of self start circling that drain the instant the mother "recovers" from the post-adrenaline crash after the first kid is pushed into the world. It's not so bad with subsequent kids. Usually.

I became a better, stronger person with each kid. And, I think, a better mom. "Place the oxygen mask over your own mouth and nose before assisting others who may be travelling with you, including small children."

I told my physician about my success with a certain drug (and failure with others). Told him about the studies done on the drug's transmission through breastmilk. Told him I was okay with any risks it might pose, based on what I knew, but if he knew anything additional, we should discuss it. He went to consult with a colleague  who cited the studies I cited. Nothing new. I started on the lowest dose the next morning.

Atticus' behavior has had no discernible change. I felt markedly better within two weeks. The last three weeks, I've had the flu and a stomach bug and I went away for three days. Medication was not a priority. Three days in Montreal would have been better medicated, I think. I'll start again in the morning.

It's nice to feel like me again.

Other Births I've Known...

So I wasn't actually there for most of them, but I've heard some great birth stories in my time. I'll start with the one I'm most familiar with, my own.

Mom had a great pregnancy. She was chopping firewood the week before she went into labor. She contracted poison ivy in the dead of winter making rubbings of gravestones in Pennsylvania just a few months before I was born. She had planned me. She made appointments with Dad to conceive me. Apparently, I was transverse through most of the pregnancy. I was manually manipulated to be head down and about halfway home I'd flip around to where I was comfy again.
When Mom was admitted to Mary Hitchcock, the nurse told her that she'd never deliver me vaginally. 46 hours later, the head of obstetrics and the head of anesthesiology attended my "emergency" c-section. Since my grandmother couldn't get there for her, my mother had a picture of her young mother holding her in a plastic bag under her pillow through the surgery.
The cord was wrapped around my neck 3 times. Even if Mom's pelvis had spread enough, I would have choked myself. I spent about a week in the NICU.
As a nurse, my mom was the focus of attention in the maternity ward. The baby nurses (what she calls newbies) were using her like a guinea pig. The tried every breast pump they could find on her. After a while, Mom asked what they were doing with all the milk they'd pumped. One of the baby nurses told her, very sheepishly, that they were giving it to the preemies. They hadn't told her or the other mothers for fear that someone would object. It was just that they tolerated it so much better and they thrived on it. Mom offered to nurse them, but it was felt that that was a bit too much. Mom didn't object to pumping after that.

My mom's best friend had three kids and all I remember about the stories is that they were all gushers. She ruined rugs when her water broke. Not helpful in the birthing story area, but darned amusing.

My grandmother had my mother in Philadelphia, I think. She was in the hospital overnight. She was heavily medicated, but not before learning about baseball. Apparently, Gram was alone in the maternity ward and a young attending physician was tasked with sitting with her. The Phillies were playing and they listened to the game on his little radio and he taught her about baseball. She never became a fan of "good" teams; but she took me to my first professional ball game. We watched a lot of baseball together. If her team made it to the World Series, she would hide in the closet and peek her head out for updates periodically.
I'm not sure why, but she never taught my mother about baseball. She taught me.

Her mother, my great-grandmother had no idea she was having a baby. She was in her forties and had been married since she was a young woman. She assumed she was going through "the change". She was a heavy-set woman and assumed a few things about her diet and her indigestion, but eventually called over her sister. Her sister called over the next door neighbor lady, a midwife. The consensus was that she was in enough pain that they should call the doctor. Apparently, he was in the house less than five minutes before exclaiming, "There are three women in this house and not one of you recognizes a woman in labor!?!"
My grandmother was born that night and she was so small that she fit in her father's overcoat pocket. She was yellow. A young cousin was allowed to name her, and she did, after her French china doll: Beatrice.
Since they had not prepared for her and they didn't expect her to survive, she was put in a well padded drawer on the open oven door to keep her warm and the doctor said he'd be back in the morning to pronounce her.
He walked in the door the next morning and was greeted with a screaming infant. She'd made it (and she never shut-up again. And we wouldn't have wanted it any other way.). He told my great-grandmother that she'd better feed her or she really wouldn't survive.

My best friend and birth coach for Alex had two children before I had Alex. The first, she was in labor for 4 hours - start to finish. The second only took 2. She said something about peeled grapes that I don't think I will ever fully understand. For someone who experienced such short and complication free deliveries, she was an amazing birth coach for me.

Alex's birth was long, protracted, and not something I would like to repeat. It could have been much worse, granted, but it could have been better.
Contractions started on Thursday evening. They were finally about 3 minutes apart by 3pm on Saturday. I went into the hospital and was told that I was fully effaced, but only 2cm dilated. At 6pm, my doctor ordered Pitocin. At midnight, he told a nurse to restart my Pitocin and she told him that she would - right after I got a good night's sleep. I was only at 4cm. He came to see me in the morning while I was having breakfast. He complained that I was still not back on the Pitocin and only at 5cm. The nurse (different one) told him that she would restart it after I'd finished breakfast. Some time in the pain haze that was Sunday, the doctor ruptured my membranes. There was meconium in the fluid. At about noon, I was given Stadol to alleviate the pain of the contractions. By 6pm, I was taken off of both medications. It was just me and my contractions.
I was very happy pushing in a squatting position, but eventually I was manhandled onto my back. A nurse had my left leg and she directed Alex's father to take my right. She told him to pull - he couldn't hurt me. I felt a coldness on my perineum and my baby was born at 9pm. She didn't cry.
I asked the doctor what he was still doing between my legs, which were now in stirrups. He was closing the episiotomy I had expressly asked him not to give me.
I was foggy and hazy for a while, but when she was finally handed to me at 10pm I was in good spirits. I had  delivered Alex naked. When the pediatrician was on his way out I asked him if, since he had seen me naked, could I call him Elliot, he replied that I could, just for that night and left. My little girl was perfect in every way.

I have spoken to a few midwives about Alex's delivery and the consensus seems to be that the episiotomy was probably needed, but someone should have said something to me. The Pitocin probably could have been avoided, and if the Pitocin hadn't been administered there likely wouldn't have been a need for the Stadol. We all agreed that the nurses were wonderful for letting me rest and eat.

I have discussed Alex's birth with my midwife and we are in agreement that we will try for a less medicated birth. We have also agreed that if anything medical needs to happen, I will get talked to before it happens. I'm not just going to be a vessel; I will be part of the delivery team this time. And I will nurse within the first hour. Everything is going to be perfect. I've seen it!

I have no self-discipline...

...for which I am eternally sorry. But I'm not going to change. At least classes are over and once my papers are handed in next week I will, sadly, so longer have an excuse - except my thesis.

So, what have I forgotten to blog? Well for one thing, we had our sonogram. SQWEEE!!!!
The baby is healthy. The doctor checked the brain, the stomach, kidneys, the face - no abnormalities at all.

The kid is healthy and apparently has all right numbers:

Five toes

Five fingers

And one penis!

The doctor said that she usually hemmed and hawed, but there was no need this time. She captured a still, walked over to the big screen and pointed out the umbilical cord, both legs, and the penis. He practically sat on the wand for her.

No other big news, really. He's been moving strongly enough that I can watch him move sometimes. And last night, finally, Bryn got to feel him. Again, the look on Bryn's face was fantastic! I am loving Bryn getting all these baby firsts. I shared a lot of Alex's pregnancy with Bryn; but this one is his.

Bryn took all my pregnancy photos when I carried Alex. We haven't taken any this pregnancy. I'm not sure how, or if, we want to commemorate this pregnancy. I'm not happy with my skin, so the idea of photos really isn't doing it for me. We thought about a belly cast, but then we are stuck with a huge belly cast... Where the hell would we put it? And I probably wouldn't want to look at it for the rest of my life.

I have a midwife appointment on Monday, right after my interview for my summer internship. I'll get back to you on how they both go.

The Study I Volunteered For

I mentioned this way back in the first post; I'm enrolled in a study at UVM's Clinical Research Center. They are studying preeclampsia: can it be predicted, avoided, and how do we treat it? It's a pretty neat study. It's number 1018 down next to the bottom of this page.

The second visit of the study, for me, is on Wednesday. I will officially be in my second trimester (woot!) and the pregnancy will be more secure. I will only be there for a few hours this time. They will take vials of blood, do a few sonograms of veins and arteries (including the one that feeds my uterus so I may get a view of the baby), and release me into the wild... After, of course, having fed me and collected my pee.

Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday I have to eat what they supply for me. I picked up Sunday and Monday's meals today. Salads and whole wheat pasta dishes. There is a dessert for Sunday night, but not Monday. The macaroni and cheese looks good. I'm almost looking forward to the meals. Almost. I had talked to the woman who made the meals about my food preferences and we discussed my yogurt and nut aversions and that I had been eating egg and cheese on a bagel every morning... We never discussed my bean aversion. There are beans in both dinners. And since they can't measure the nutrients in each individual egg - I have egg substitute for both breakfasts. The salads look beautiful though. Garbanzo beans and all. A courier is coming Monday with my meals for Tuesday.

I will be fasting when I arrive at the hospital at 8am on Wednesday. Not so much as a sip of water. I will have a headache (having ridden the bus there) and demand they hurry up so I can drink.  The first thing I do lately is wake the Boo and prep her snack and breakfast and pour myself a glass of juice. I get some fluids, vitamin C, and a boost of sugar. I will not have my hummingbird fuel on board when I see the happy hospital staff...

I will present to them all of my leftovers and a jug of my pee. They will measure and analyze both of them.

I think I signed up for this study for the same reason I allow training nurses and midwives and doctors to help out during my exams. I want to help people learn. Since I can't teach them myself, I help them in the only way that I can. I really do think that dissecting the frog is not something you can substitute with a diagram. I have an aunt with three kidneys and a friend with one huge one - real-life is so much freakier than a diagram.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Stuff

So much is on my mind that I'm just going to have a gobbledy-gook post this evening. Sorry about that.

Went for my prenatal blood test today. We went all the way down to Porter Medical Center to do it so we could see the Birthing Center. It's about an hour drive. Today it was snowing. Fifty minutes was good enough, especially considering I didn't know exactly where I was going. Come August, it will either be easier or harder to make it in an hour, being in the heart of Construction Season and all.

The blood draw was easy. I hate blood draws, so the lab tech letting me babble at her was fantastic. I hope Alex's first real blood draw isn't traumatic; I'm pretty sure she's O neg like me. I'd like her to be able to donate blood without inducing trauma on volunteers.

The tour was cool. The Birthing Center is tiny. We were shown the recovery room that one might be moved to if they are really busy. There are two of those. Then we were shown a birthing suite. If it's not busy that would be the room I'm admitted to, labor and deliver, and recover in and the baby would room-in. There are three of those rooms. The nursery is all glass and the nurse reassured us that the baby would only really be there for a heel prick, or in an emergency, that is where the baby would be stabilized before transport.

I live a fifteen minute bus ride from the hospital they would probably transfer the baby (or myself) to, if there were an emergency. Taking public transit from my house is a quicker ride than in a speeding ambulance from Middlebury... I know that birth is normal and natural and has happened all over the world for eons. As a reader and student of the female condition, I have a hard time forgetting that women and infants have died in childbirth, or shortly thereafter, for eons. I was a C-section because my mother's pelvis would not separate. After 46 hours of labor, my delivery was an emergency. I spent a week in the NICU at Mary Hitchcock (a tale worth its own post). Alex was born after my membranes were ruptured for me and the doctor had me on pitocin for a total of 16 hours. I got nine hours off for sleep and one for lunch. I'm a little nervous. I think Bryn is too, but we haven't really articulated our fears to one another. He doesn't like "dwelling" and thinks that bad thoughts can manifest into the things feared. I want to talk about our fears, but I don't want to upset Bryn. He'll just tell me there's nothing to worry about.

I want waffles.

So Dev, I've been reading a bit and I'm not sure I need a doula. At least not this far out. I'll still need to research a bit, but I think I may (oh boy) be fine. I have a fantastic set of midwives - who are beloved of the nursing staff at Porter, by the way. The nurse who gave us the tour asked who we were going with and she just had fantastic things to say about each of the midwives. She loves the midwife we are going with, but she is pregnant so we are going with Martha for our visit next week, which was just fantastic with the nurse, but Anita is really very sweet too, she should know, she used to work in their office. And then there is the fact that my mom's new best friend is a midwife who has offered her more maternal services. Lord knows I'm not letting Mom in for delivery, but her best friend may be welcome. And then there is Bryn. I think the family friend may be what I need. I'll keep researching though.

I think I may be over the worst of the queasy thing. I still have bouts of it, but my main urge is to eat my way through it. What I really want is cantaloupe. Or waffles. I had a mad craving for cheese steak sandwiches two weeks ago. I must have eaten three of them that week. Spinach salads sound good until I go to choose a dressing. I like creamy dressings on my spinach, vinaigrettes don't really cut it, but the smell of the creamy dressings just puts me off. Pretzels were unappealing for a while. That was just weird. Peppermint tea, one sugar, room temperature is the greatest beverage ever. I can even forgo the sugar, just don't make me drink it hot.

I want a Twizzler.

I have a new primary care physician. He's asked me to call him by his first name. I feel old. He's really friendly and super sweet though. He checked me out, told me that the midwives can check my abdomen and breasts, and recommended a new brain care specialist. I was not in the least off-put by his attitude towards my pregnant places - I kind of liked that he was more than happy to defer to the ladies who DO pregnancy. I will see him again in a few months.

The new brain care specialist (I have seen counselors, therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists, etc... I've seen them all for the same thing - my mental health (that I stole the phrase from a Vogon is irrelevant)) is a neat lady in the same office as the new doctor. She let me babble for the first hour. Maybe at tomorrow's meeting she will speak more. She implied that she would, but time will tell. I was working on weaning off of my anti-depressants while I was trying to get pregnant. The stomach virus finished the job. She and I are going to work on keeping me that way, at least until the baby is weaned. That is my goal. I had a rough time last year. Wish me luck.

I've been a bit of a hormonal mess. Bryn can probably speak to it better than I can so I will leave off with the fact that I was bawling yesterday about dishes. I was threatening to pile them in the driveway and run them over with the car rather than wash them. He couldn't understand me through the blubbering and thought I said "tissue", as that was what I was looking at when I spoke. He really didn't get the driving pantomime in reference to the snotty tissue. It wasn't just the dishes, of course. I was also a mess about not hearing him correctly. He teases me but I haven't been able to hear his smile lately; all I hear are the words, which I then have an over-reaction to. So he teases me about not doing the dishes, I freak out on him, he tell me to calm down, I realize I'm over reacting and completely meltdown. Within said meltdown I bring up all the other things that make me unhappy. I have no passion anymore, I can't hear his smile, I can't stand being touched, I have no idea what I'm going to do with my degree, I have no idea how we are going to pay for the trip to Boston, I have no Work-Study money this semester, crap I haven't finished reading Uncle Tom's Cabin, I sleep too much, there's too much laundry, should we cloth diaper the baby?, if I could afford disposables I can afford the diaper service, right?, AAAGGGGHHHHH!!!!! And then I start driving over tissues. It's a good thing Bryn loves me. Alex worries when I cry. Bryn tells her I'm fine and I try to reassure her as well, but I think it may be a bit scary for her.

Anyone have a Fudge Round? Twix? 3 Musketeers?

I think I'm doing better. Next week is the midwife appointment where I may actually lie down on a table and get my belly prodded. I may get a sonogram. We may discover the gender (maybe).

I want a boy. I want a boy badly enough that I'm wondering if I'm willing to have three girls in an effort to get a boy. I am the only daughter of an only daughter of an only daughter. Bryn has female cousins and a sister. He's it for the Milks name. A boy would be so cool. My mom thinks it's cool enough that I'm breaking the only child chain, a boy would be gravy. (Please little Zoe, if you read this, don't be offended. We love you.)

Mmmm.... when is cantaloupe in season again?

Yes, we have names picked out. Yes, if it's a girl her name will be Zoe. Alexandra and Zoe. Get it? I'm not divulging the middle name. I was on a forum when I was pregnant with Alex and we went around one day and shared the names we had chosen for our April babies. A woman who delivered on Alex's due date used my boy name, first and middle, for her son. I was so offended. I looked back and she was going to call him Micheal. I suppose it means I have better taste, but it was weird and I felt robbed. Suffice to say, I'm not really worried about anyone stealing the names so much as I want there to be a bit of surprise. On a side note, neither of our mothers like the girl name. We're sticking to our guns though. We think it's perfect.

I think I've blathered enough for one post. I'm off to find some ice cream. Or an apple. Fruit leather?

Birth Plan

I wrote up a birth plan.
Earth Mama Angel Baby, on top of having some really fantastic healthy products, offered up the form. It was weird when I received it, until I realized that it only showed the choices I had made and none of the things I had decided against.

I think that having what I want in writing, and in my midwife's hand, will empower me to have the birth I want instead of the one my doctor wants to give me. Alex's birth was ... a little on the traumatic side.

I thought Alex and I were going to be fine. I was not allowed to think this for the last day of labor. I had been given pitocin. My membranes had been ruptured. I was forced to wear the external fetal monitor that refused to stay still and confined me to the bed, itched, and constantly threw the nurses into a tizzy by picking up my heart and not Alex's. I got to squat up to a point, then I was manhandled onto my back with my feet in stirrups. One of the nurses grabbed my left knee and told Alex's dad (former varsity football player, varsity wrestler, physical laborer) to pull on my right, "Don't worry, you can't hurt her. Pull!" Needless to say, my right hip has never been the same. I was given an episiotomy against my express wishes. I did not see my daughter until an hour after her delivery, though she never left the room. The only thing about the entire experience (other than Alex) that made me smile was this weird endorphin rush - I had stripped down naked: my bra was hanging from the IV stand. I asked the pediatrician, "Dr. Hall, now that you've seen me naked, may I call you Elliot?" He smiled back and said, "Just for tonight," and handed me my perfect baby. He was a fantastic pediatrician. I really miss him.

I hope that this birth goes better. I have very high hopes.

Signs, Symptoms, and Sickness

When I found out I was pregnant, the only real symptoms I had were that I was tired and my breasts were really sensitive. When I say "really sensitive" I mean that I had to dress and undress very deliberately in case the fabric brushed them the wrong way. Silly me, I thought it was PMS despite that never having been one of my symptoms before.

I'm always tired. I can sleep forever. I have always loved naps. I am not sure if I worked in the theatre because I loved the job or the hours. I will gladly stay up into the wee hours of the morn, just don't wake me before 10 am. I am really not the right person for motherhood given this particular weakness - kids are, for the most part, morning people. Like my grandmother. Mom and I were convinced Gram was adopted. No one should be cheerful at 6 am. Mutant. Anyway, tired didn't seem like a symptom of pregnancy. It was just that I finally had a chance to fulfill some nap wishes and I should be tired after my first semester of graduate school. Stress and whatnot.

Queasy... The first time I remember being queasy was after the Yule celebration. I knew I was pregnant at this point, so I treated it like morning sickness. Pretzels, crackers, cheese for protein, ginger ale, and lemonade. Parties are awesome for scrounging tummy settling snacks. Since Bryn was spending the night out at the fire with Ed to make sure the sun came back (old Asatru thing, very neat tradition, second year I've had to forgo it), I curled up in the big comfy chair at their house, slightly propped up. Bishop is the doofiest chocolate lab in the universe, and I adore him, except when he is breathing in my face. Since he is the kind and compassionate type, he was in my face trying to make sure I was okay the entire time I was queasy. I hate shoving him, but he takes hints like an anvil. Dog breath + queasy = dear God, save me!

The Christmas holiday went off without a hitch. I was a little queasy, but I still got to eat. I was a little tired, but I still got to see everyone. Then we drove Alex to meet her father, and Bryn and I were going to have some alone time. We were looking forward to being grown-ups. Tuesday, I felt really sick. Nothing appealed to me. Wednesday it was worse. And then I threw up. I don't do that. Ever. I had friends that worried I was going to die of alcohol poisoning because I don't throw up. Less than ten is the number of times I have thrown up. I don't do it. I prayed the entire time that I was really sick and it wasn't morning sickness.

Thursday I got a call from Alex's dad. She's had a fever since Tuesday and she threw up on Wednesday. What do I want to do? Since Bryn had been suffering with a head/chest cold thing for the past couple of days, I had the stomach thing, and Alex wanted to do nothing but sleep, why don't we just pick her up a bit earlier on Friday than planned? Grampa decided that a sick kid was not a deterrent, so we met at the usual time. Alex slept the entire way home.

We were all gross and sick, so I took Alex to the pediatrician once we got back into town. The pediatrician said it was the Yuckavirus, a bug going around, and the best treatment was Tylenol and popsicles. Boo cheered at that. She was cuddly and snuggly for a few days and then the fever broke. She's been more snuggly with Bryn since her fever, but I think it's because I'm so touchy about my stomach.

Everyone else feels much better. Bryn gets headaches and Boo falls down, but I'm still tired and queasy. I want to feel better. I remember being pregnant with Alex as some of the best feeling times of my life. I felt healthy. My allergies went away. My lactose intolerance went away. I just felt good! Please let the queasies go away...

The Midwife

Bryn and I are going to a midwife recommended to us by dear friends. These dear friends had their last two children with this midwife - and she's at least an hour away from them. Our friends are devoted and I think that speaks a lot. Having met her, I get it entirely.

We are seeing Heather at Tapestry Midwifery. She is delightful. She saw us a few months ago, while we were still just planning and told us all about the practice.

We saw Heather on Wednesday and we talked more about what to expect. Our next visit will be at about 12 weeks where we can have an ultrasound (!) if we want. We will deliver at Porter Medical Center, in Middlebury. Please note the nice write up about Tapestry on the Birthcenter page! Considering how long it took to get Alex, I'm not very concerned about the one hour drive to the hospital. Bryn might be though.

Great meeting with Heather, she approved of my vitamins but recommended iron and calcium supplements - not at the same time as the iron will inhibit the calcium's absorption. Other than that just a few run of the mill items. Oh, and she's pregnant. She's 20 weeks and will be taking most of the summer off. ...

So our next visit is with Martha. I may as well get to know everyone who may be present at the delivery. That said, so far I've liked everyone I've met at the practice. We are greeted and asked if we would like water or tea. We were asked to smile for a picture for our file. We were given a 3-ring binder full of useful information, from signs that would necessitate calling them and procedures for admittance to the hospital to how to treat a headache, who to call for prenatal yoga classes, and good snacks for morning sickness. There are also numbers for doulas, but I'm not quite sure what a doula is... More research!

I need to have some blood work done before the next visit, so Bryn and I will travel down to Middlebury to get it done. We will try out the trip and see the facility at the same time. I'm not very excited about all the driving - I take the bus past a medical center and get off it at Fletcher Allen to get to class - but Porter has nicer things said about it's birthing center and Porter is where my midwife practices. ...but no one likes their local hospital... We'll see.