12 weeks later – looking back – last part

Part 2 here

The whole time the OB team was busy it felt a lot like I was just being pushed and prodded, there was no pain. Meanwhile, Dr Bailey the pediatrician chatted away to me, explaining what he will do once my baby comes out to make sure he didn’t get meconium in his lungs and then he will give him to me. He also took photos of the whole procedure. Dr B checked my drip, my mom held my hand and what ever happened on the other side of the cloth was a mystery (although I was tempted a few times to ask for a progress report).  All the tears, the fear and the disappointment melted away the minutes he made is first noise. He was held next to me by my mom (the drip in my arm was 22 gauge and bent too easily so I had to keep my arm still. Here was my little boy, outside of me, breathing and grunting (wet lungs).

Giggling like a mad woman again, this time just from happiness and relief

Yes, 3 weeks early and still almost 4kg

I was kept in post-op for longer than I liked. Shivering and anxious to see my baby again. When they finally gave him to me I was suddenly scared. Nothing had gone to plan, now it was more than an hour after. They took too long to come fetch me and we missed the golden hour. Would he latch? Would I at least get to be the kind of mom who breastfeeds even if I wasn’t thek ind of mom who went through labour? My fears were unfounded, as if he had practiced he latched like a pro and I believe my relief was audible.

Camera was too slow but I lifted myself up to get comfy

The first night was hell. I couldn’t move my arm because of the drip, the spinal was taking an age to wear off and it was painful to move. I wanted to be supermom and keep him in the room with me, I gave in because there was no way I could look after him with one arm. The nurses were amazing and brought him to me when he was hungry. Dignity is something you leave at the door when you have that kind of surgery, from your catheter being emptied to getting a sponge bath (well more like a towel bath), you are incapable and as a result humbled. I have much respect for the nurses who do this for women like me.

Recovery seemed like hell, like it would take forever. I still wonder why people opt for C/sections. The pain, the immobility, the forced rest. All those things I did not enjoy but it was over quicker than I expected. I didn’t sit at home all day every day, I did not make a cocoon with just my baby and me. He and I were out in the world within a week and I really believe this was the reason for my quick recovery and for him being so calm and happy in public, in other people’s arms and out at night.

With Granny & Great Granny

While I still have pangs of disappointment over the event I do not have one ounce of regret. I have a happy, healthy little boy and I love being “Mommy”

12 weeks later – looking back – part 2

Part 1 here

We get to the hospital and by then little trickles of reality are setting in, it’s all still a little surreal (can something be a little surreal?). Not wanting to be cliched I try and find a diplomatic way of telling the clerks at reception that my water broke. I can’t say “I am in labour”, I don’t feel like I am. I said something, I don’t recall now what it was. I do recall telling them I wasn’t going to sit down on their chair because it could get messy. That seemed to speed up the process and up I went to maternity. I was given a gown and a clean pad by a lovely nurse named Dorkes. Yes, that really is her name and she was so sweet the whole way through. To my dismay the fluid was now a little bit greener but when the nurse checked it she still referred to it as a “green tinge” which immediately settled my nerves.

I was strapped up to the monitor for a few minutes and all looked well, except that he wouldn’t sit still for very long and we kept moving the belt around, changing my position, restarting the process. All this meant we missed any sign that something was wrong, until my OB came to check up on me an hour or so later. My whole day turned on a word, well 2 to be honest, “pea soup”. That is how my OB described what my amniotic fluid was looking like. Which meant he was still pooing which meant there was some kind of distress. Then reality hit, I wasn’t getting the vaginal birth I so desperately wanted. I tried to buy enough time for TheHusband to be done, I got told the most I could have was 2 hours. If by then I hadn’t dilated more than 2cm at 13h15 I was going into theater, otherwise I was putting the baby at risk. I agreed, of course I did, my baby’s health was more important than anything else in the whole universe. Then I did what any self respecting pregnant woman, unsure of what was to come and totally off track from her birth plan, would do…I started to cry. I learned later that TheConcierge, while totally calm in the room with me, met my mom at the hospital entrance crying. I cried because I wanted a vaginal birth, I cried because my husband wasn’t there, I cried because my Doula would never make it, I cried because we really did not have the money for an emergency C/section, I cried because I was scared.

At 12h30 after 3 attempts of getting an anti-biotics drip in, my doctor came in, checked my cervix and found me still at 2cm and the liquid still getting greener. No more stalling, the breaks were coming off and I was being wheeled away, my mom by my side, waving at the rest of my family sitting in reception. Wheeled into the elevator, down to pre-op where I filled in some forms, and then Dr B the anesthesiology comes in to explain the spinal, that I may feel my blood pressure drop and that it was totally normal, they have something to give me for that. That I may feel nausious and that too is totally normal and they have something to give me for that, oh and there is a slight change, but it only happens in 15% of cases (see I told you that number comes up again) that I will feel extremely cold and shivery. There is nothing they can do about that.

Into theater we go, my mom goes off for a few minutes to dress in scrubs, I get told to sit on the edge of the bed and hold still…yeah right, have you ever tried to hold still when a needle goes into your spine? Then everything starts to tingle and moving is difficult. I get helped into a horizontal position. Blood pressure drop  Nausea  Cold and Shivers  and . The metal frame gets put down, Dr B puts a new drip in (the 3rd one came out of the vein and started filling tissue with saline and antibiotics) the cloth goes over and the tugging and pulling begins.

To be continued…

12 weeks later – looking back – Part 1

12 weeks ago today everything started, 19 days earlier than expected. The Saturday night before I felt weird, out of place in my own body and I had this niggly feeling that there was a leak, I was running to the bathroom every 30 minutes instead of every hour or so and this carried on while I was attempting to sleep. My heart raced a little and I tweeted my feelings. Most people told me to relax and that I would know for sure if it was time. The next day my mom told me that if I could hold it in it wasn’t my water. This coupled with “What to expect” informing me that only 15% of the time the water breaks before contractions start…remember that number, it comes up again.

I spent Sunday strolling around Canal Walk searching for pajamas, feeding bras and a bath mat. My mother, my gran and I left the shopping center empty handed, my gran and I ready to collapse from exhaustion. In the back of my mind the little voices were at it again “good Hila, walk more, it’s a great way to self induce”.

Hold on! I need to rewind to the Wednesday before for just a moment. I had been at my OB/Gyn for my now weekly appointment and we had found him engaged and my cervix at 2cm. Great, now we can continue with you having a greater understanding of the root of my mild paranoia.

The Sunday night was much like the Saturday only that, by the 5am pee run, I had managed to convince myself the it was just paranoia, that women on forums I was reading had been at 2cm for a while, one woman was stuck there for going on 4 weeks, what was I worried about and then…I got up. You know how “they” say Hollywood exaggerates? That water doesn’t woosh down between your legs like a dam breaking? That all that is for dramatic effect? Well “they” lie! It even SPLASHED. I started giggling like a mad woman. I giggled because of the drama of it, I giggled because I was right, I giggled because in the infancy of TheHusband and my relationship, at 5am I called him to come take me to the hospital for a tummy bug, I giggled because I was scared. Then I did the rational thing and got a pad and underwear, called my sister (TheConcierge) to come babysit me (TheHusband had to go work, he is a tourist guide so not exactly something you can take compassionate leave for) and called my boss to tell him I wouldn’t be able to come in.

I informed my Doula, who was in Sun City on conference and she told em to do exactly what I planned to do. Stay home and wait it out until you absolutely have to go to the hospital. I was overwelmed by the love and luck wishing on Twitter. Facebook too but Facebook is full of friends I had already and they are meant to be supportive, Twitter was full of friends I made only recently. I got up for some or other reason and again WOOSH. I went to go change my pad and noticed something slightly disturbing, there was a green tinge to the fluid coming out. I knew from ante natal classes that my baby was pooing in his swimming pool and the best thing to do was head to hospital to be monitored. So TheConcierge helped me down, the hospital bag already in her car (which I had been driving for a while since her steering wheel sat further back) and off we went, calling my mom, my dad, my Doula and my husband as we went. Still calm, still tweeting away, still grinning like a mad woman.

To be continued…

All the gross things

At some point, every person thinks about what it would be like to change a nappy. For some it’s a moment of “HELL no” and for others it is a non event. My expectations were set to “gag”.  I watched How Dads Change Nappies and thought quietly to myself, while pointing and laughing with everyone else, “That’s gonna be me!” I can’t even pick up the Yorkie poo without gagging, and that stuff is dry.

Not only nappies, the idea of positing, or even projectile vomit scared me. I was praying to whoever will listen for a baby that didn’t do any of those things. I have a terrible gag reflex and it just takes one other person to throw up and it gets me going too. How was I going to deal with burping my baby if he posited. Drooling babies made me edgy too and not to mention that I have a little boy, being pee’d on was really not something I was looking forward to.

Then he arrived.

In the last 1o weeks I have been poo’d on, wee’d at (yes AT), vomited on and drooled on and you know I just don’t care. Nappy changing has not been a bed of roses but it’s poo, it’s not meant to be. One night feed he drank with such gusto and I thought it was so funny, the noises he was making, until I found myself coated in most of what he just ate, still warm. It just made me laugh more.

At the moment my favourite moments happen when changing his nappy. I get giggles and chattering, even full blown laughter while I wipe his bum. I don’t know why and I don’t ask too much. I just revel in the moments with my little boy. Bare bumed, with a wet wipe ready to stop the flow if he decided all we’re missing is a fountain.

I want to get him a babygrow that says “WARNING: Contents under high pressure”. If you had to see the kind of arches he manages at this age, I feel sorry for whoever enters into a peeing contest with him when he’s older. He dad keeps saying he is going to be a lot of trouble with the girls and make a lot of boys jealous.

So any soon to be, planning to be or about to be mom’s out there who worry about the gag reflex, the drool, the vomit. I can’t tell you not to worry, you will but know that on this subject I have grown most of all. No one talks about it and they should. It all happens, babies are the most basic of human machines and so you will just be happy it all works. Instead of embarrassment when a rip roaring fart rumbles from the baby chair you will cheer (especially after a long, sleepless night of tummy cramps) and instead of fear when a nappy gets filled you will giggle at the face of concentration and mischevious smile that appears just before.

Every action or event is part of my time with him and when you measure your time in weeks, every moment is like a lifetime. Enjoy all the lifetimes, even the gross ones

A weekend of firsts, sunshine, magical moments and heart break

The last time I went away was the weekend before I gave birth. TheHusband is a tourist guide and was out in Hermanus for the weekend with a couple he was taking on the garden route. Not wanting to miss any time with him I packed my bag for the weekend and packed my hospital bag too. It was a glorious 3 days. I spent a large chunk of that weekend on my own as TheHusband had to tour with his guests but I loved every moment of quiet contemplation, watching the mommy whales teach the baby whales to wave their fins, and breach and spray.

That monday I packed my bags again and headed home, along the windy Clarence Drive, keeping the sea to my left, I stopped in Grodon’s Bay for Soft Serve and then home to pack my bags again to go stay with my parents while TheHusband was away. I had no idea that, around the same time I was enjoying my ice cream, a week later, I would be breastfeeding.

2 and a bit months later, we get to go away for the weekend again. This time up the West Coast to a private nature reserve. Now all 3 of us are together. TheHusband and I sharing a bed (in Hermanus we were sleeping in the hotel the company TheHusband worked for organised, they didn’t expect me to join so didn’t book a double room, we couldn’t even push the beds together)

Beach bug

Catching some rays

The Saturday we were blessed with beautiful weather but seeing as the majority of us are pasty geeks, we played boardgames until it was sunsafe and then headed down to the beach with a view of swimming a little in the ocean and then going up to the pool. 3 out of the 5 of us were crazy enough to even attempt going into the icey waters before we all headed back up to the pool. Meanwhile I had a moment. Feeling fat and flabby in my swimming costume. No one there with me was in peak condition, no one to compare to so I don’t know what prompted it. There are pictures that TheHusband refused to let me delete which I refuse to show anyone. I am keeping them for one reason, they are pictures of his fist time at the beach with mommy. I had a good cry before we went up to the pool.

What a beautiful day for the beach

While taking my beautiful boy for a swim was an incredible experience the not so fantastic part was the judgey teenage hipster (sounds like an indie band name) who sat and watched us, making comments they thought I couldn’t hear about parts of me they thought I wasn’t aware of. I was painfully aware of it all, the pasty, flabby thighs; the wobbly and still bloated belly; the wiggly arms. I was fragile and I just wanted to scream at them GO TO HELL, but I knew it would just add to their fodder.

My little boy enjoyed his time in the water, kicking his legs. Smilling and giggling threw shivers. I can see a future boy, blue lipped and shaking from cold, begging for “just 5 more minutes mom, pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaase”. Those sort of thoughts make my heart swell so much it pushes tears out my eyes. Parts of me can’t wait for my little baby to be a little boy and other parts want him to stay as he is, right now, forever. There is an ad on the radio at the moment for something, I am not sure what the product is, where a man talks about how much he loves his little girl and how he tells her he doesn’t want her to grow up and how she says, I’m sorry daddy but god will make me grow up. That ad made me go all warm and fuzzy and little sad.

Daddy and JP

The rest of the weekend involved more boardgaming, cooking (mostly done by me, since I prefer to cook than to clean) and sunday came a little grey and cool. I awoke to the sound of zebras whooping and my friend, sleeping upstairs, snoring. I felt like I was somewhere in the bushveld. Fed the bug, who really has been eating a lot during the day recently, thinking he may be growing a little. Went to explore the kitchen to see what I could feed the others with.

Then came the worst moment I have had since being told I would have to have an emergency C/section. Before I tell you please know that I am aware that these sorts of things will happen and that worse will occur but for now this stands as something that broke my heart. We were playing away, TheHusband was holding bug while taking his turn and the baby decided to shove backwards. Totally unexpected. TheHusband had his other hand full and baba went flying backwards. Momja skills kicked in and I somehow managed to stop him from hitting his head too hard on the table and guided him swiftly into the baby seat to avoid tumbling down to the floor. My heart stopped, he started to cry, I picked him up and held him so close, tears streaming down my face. Lesson learned.

So a weekend full of firsts, sunshine, magical moments and heartbreak. Perfect

The first step

So I have a million things happening every day that fit into my journey of being a new mom. Some of them I share on twitter and facebook. Other’s are TMI and well I am not really the kind of person to force people to read those sorts of things.

So I started this blog. If TMI bothers you, look away, otherwise I hope you enjoy this journey with me.