HOW DO THEY GROW SO QUICKLY?

Baby T and his babies

As if Baby T wasn’t already the cutest little guy in the world, he has gotten even cuter over the past few weeks. Heck—over the past few DAYS! All of a sudden he is turning into a little boy. Maybe he is making room for the new little baby to come into our lives. It’s bittersweet to see him grow up. But I know I had better get a handle on it, because it’s going to keep happening for the rest of my life.

It started when, a few weeks ago, I decided that Baby T really needs to start doing his sign language. I had been using the signs for “milk” and “more” since he was 2 or 3 months old. I thought it was strange that he has been using other hand signals—like waving bye bye and giving high fives—since he was 7 or 8 months old, but still hadn’t picked up on those I was actually TRYING to teach him. So that day, while Baby T was nursing, I just said, “T… show me milk.” And his little arm went up in the air with his fist pumping open and closed. I hooted with joy. Baby T gave me the old nipple smile. And then I realized. He knew how to do it all along; he just didn’t realize that I wanted HIM to use the sign. He just knew that I always showed it to him when I was giving him milk.

That day or the next, he used the sign for “more” when I asked him to show it to me. THAT, my friends, created a little monster. The most adorable monster ever, though. Now he frantically signs “more” whenever he wants something. Usually it’s food, but it can be anything. If he sees one of his toys on the kitchen counter, he will stand under me and yell and frantically bang his hands with their closed little fingers into each other. If you bring him something he didn’t want, he just shakes his head and keeps signing.

A few days ago, I taught him how to do fist bumps. He thinks it’s great, and I think it makes him super cool. He will even give fist bumps to the baby in the mirror.

His Pop Pop taught him to say “beep beep” and press his nose with his finger. He’s been doing that for a couple of weeks. And then the other morning, the oven timer went off. Baby T looked at me and said “beep beep”.

He uses a ton of words, and understands everything I ask him to do. If I ask him to go get a book, he will walk to his room and come back with a book. Most of the time. He loves babies and calls his little Fisher-Price beefy men his “babies.”

He says cat, dog, dada, mama, agua, milk, bye bye, hi, hey, banana, mas (“more” in Spanish), car, walk, go, duck, quack, choo choo, shoe, sock, night night, woof. His new favorite thing to do is roar. He will walk around the house roaring, and he can tell you that’s what the lion says. This morning, after I gave him a raspberry on his belly, he said “tickatickaticka” (tickle tickle). Yesterday he said “sippy.” He said it the way he says “tickatickaticka” over and over again when we tickle him. He said, “sippysippysip.” But there is a little southern drawl in there or something so it comes out sounding like “siuppysiuppysiup.” It’s adorable. And if he's looking for something, he holds his hands up in a shrug.

He is becoming so observant, too. This past weekend, I was trying to pack some bags and he kept grabbing them, putting them over his shoulder, and walking to the door saying "bye bye". Is this what he notices when I leave the house? That I grab my purse and walk out the door saying "bye"??



And yesterday, when he came home from daycare, he was having conversations. With us, with himself, with the cat and the dog, complete with gestures, pointing, and hand movements. He will look you right in the eye and tell you something VERY important. And just yesterday, he started repeating everything I said to him. It’s probably only intelligible to me and Big T, but he is really talking.

I have to stop hooting, hugging him, and melting into a puddle of overly proud mommy-ness and telling him he’s a genius every time these things happen. He is going to be very embarrassed when I drop him off at college.

BABY T NO LONGER HAS THE MONOPOLY

It's pretty obvious that I've been MIA lately. Sorry about that. We were traveling at the end of May and beginning of June, and after those trips, I was beat. Completely wiped out. I started feeling like crap, too. I was queasy all the time, and extremely irritable. When 2PM hit at work I was ready to get home and go to sleep. And I would pass out in front of the TV at 8:30 at night. I thought it might be the heat. Or my lack of exercise. That's it, I decided. So I woke up at 5:30 the next morning and went for a walk. I felt a little better, but not completely. I looked online, and determined it might be my thyroid. So on that Saturday in June when I came home from work at 3 and told Big T we had to go to the pool because I felt queasy and like I was going to crawl out of my skin, he said, "Are you pregnant?"

No....NOOOOOOO.... nope, nope, nope. Not pregnant. Definitely not. I think it's my thyroid.

 

 

 

That Monday I picked up a pregnancy test on the way home from work. Just in case.

 

 

And you are now looking at a proud family of four.

 

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY T!

When the clock struck midnight on May 27, 2009, I was laboring in the birthing tub in the hospital room. It felt great. Big T could spray my lower back with hot water every time I had a contraction. I relaxed and melted into the tub. After a while, though, I started to feel lightheaded. Like I had hung out in the hot tub for too long after one margarita too many. And the tub was so big that it was hard for me to find a place to drape my upper body, so I was on my hands and knees most of the time, and I was tired. I had also let them put in a hep-lock. I told them not to put it in my wrist. They put it in my wrist. If I had to do it again, I would decline the hep-lock or ensure that they put it somewhere in the middle of my arm. But I had very little use of that arm since I had a needle in my joint.

So I got out of the tub. I remember Big T saying, "We haven't been up this late in a looooong time." That's when I knew it had to be 1 or 2 AM. It was freezing in the hospital room. I couldn't stop shaking. I got in the bed and laid on my side and they draped heated blankets over me. I was exhausted. So sleepy. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I would sleep in between contractions. When the contractions came, I would moan, "Fuuuuuuuuccckkk, Paaaaamm....." And then I would drift back into sleep. Big T and Pamela looked very tired in their chairs. But they gave me the encouragement I needed when I needed it.

Pamela checked me around 3AM, and I was 9.5 cm dilated. I asked her to break my water, hoping this would move things along. After that, I still didn't feel the urge to push. I tried, but I was so exhausted and I wasn't really pushing very hard. I think I was partly afraid to push. I was in more pain now. I puked a couple of times. I was sweating but freezing cold. I felt out of my element. It wasn't just about the pain. I felt so strange. Like I was about to drift over the edge to utopia, but something was holding me back. I was antsy and nauseous and crawling out of my skin. I was exhausted but couldn't sleep. I had to pee but couldn't pee. I couldn't quite control my body, yet I wasn't quite out of control.

The nurse kept wanting me to get in the lithotomy position. I adamantly refused. I was not going to do this on my back. But I was exhausted. I tried sitting up and squatting, but I still didn't feel like I had to push. The nurse kept suggesting I lay on my back with my legs in the stirrups. I didn't want to, but finally I agreed, and it actually helped me. She would push back on my legs, and I would push and it was much easier for me that way. I did switch positions a couple of times... Pamela would have me sit up and squat and get on all fours and sit on the toilet. But my contractions never picked up. The nurse kept telling Pamela my station, and it stayed the same. The nurse and Pamela told me I was making progress, but I didn't believe them. The baby wasn't getting any lower.

I never felt like my body had to push, the way some women describe labor. In fact, it took everything I had to make myself push. I didn't feel like vocalizing. Every class I had taken and book I had read talked about vocalizing and opening your mouth and the vibrations would help your cervix open. But I never felt like making any noise. I wanted everything to be quiet. I applaud Big T and Pamela for being there for me the whole time. They gave me water and ice when I asked for it, and gave me encouragement when I needed it, and most importantly of all, were quiet when I needed them to be. They mimicked my energy, and it was perfect.

At some point, Pamela wanted to administer pitocin, but I was too scared of the strong contractions that would follow, especially since I hadn't had any pain medication. So we kept trying to push for another hour, and nothing. In fact, my contractions were so weak, that they hooked me up to a monitor so they could see when I was having a contraction, and I would have to ask so I would know when to push. They gave me some IV fluids to give me more energy, and then I agreed to some pitocin, which they only administered a little bit, and very very gradually. It worked. My contractions picked up to every 2 mins instead of every 5 mins, and this really got the baby moving lower. At some point in the morning, the midwives switched shifts, and Suzanne took over for Pamela. It hugged Pamela as she gave me her sweet smile and wished me the best.

I started pushing... really pushing. In between pushes and contractions, I discussed the ring of fire with Suzanne. Could they numb me topically before the baby crowned? They could, but it could make the baby's face numb. I didn't want that. Then another contraction would come and I would yell out. Finally, one last push and out he came! I screamed at the top of my lungs as I pushed him out. Poor Tieren. Came into the world in the midst of his loud screaming mama instead of calmness. But I couldn't help it. It helped me push him out without stopping. And honestly, there was no ring of fire. It hurt, yes. But I couldn't even tell when he was fully out. I don't think lanocaine would have done a thing. As he came out, Suzanne was trying to get my attention through my yells: "Hey Gaby... GABY!!... GABY!!!" And then I stopped yelling and said "What?" And Suzanne said, "Here's your baby!" and put him on my chest. It was amazing. He looked amazing, smelled amazing. It was surreal. He latched on and suckled 3 times for a few minutes each time, and he just cuddled up on my chest.

He was still pretty gray though, and wasn't pinking up, and he had a lot of mucus in his airways and mouth and nose, so they took him to the bassinet in the room to work on him. I could still see him. He ended up being fine. I loved him. I loved Big T. I loved my midwives. I loved everyone right about then. I had never felt so amazing before. I had never felt so much love.

Big T snapped the first picture of Tieren with his cell phone. And it turns out he is definitely my child. Like mother, like son.

Baby T, you are amazing. You are my luvaluv. My love of all time. I tell you this every day. And I will keep telling you this. I will tell you this in front of your baseball team. I will tell you this in front of your friends when they come over for pizza. I will tell you this in front of your first girlfriend. You'll give me your shy smile and look all embarrassed, but I know you love it. Happy Birthday. I love you.

A DOG'S SOUL

On Tuesday, May 26, 2009, I woke up feeling like I had the previous Friday. It felt funny to sit down, and I was a bit crampy. I got up, grabbed my exercise ball, and went to work. I should have just stayed home. First of all, everyone was asking me, "Why are you here?" Um, because I didn't have my baby yet. Wasn't it obvious? I worked, bouncing on my exercise ball, and fielded questions.

Meanwhile, back at the homestead, Big T was fielding a situation of his own. It turns out that Sully's bite was infected. So Big T took him to the vet, where he got a shot of antibiotics and a drain put in. Unfortunately, he could reach the drain even with his conehead on, and Big T had to go to work. So I agreed to come home. I had a phone and computer there for work, so I could just answer calls from home. I left work around 11AM.

It was a slow day. Molasses. I sat in my home office answering emails. The phone hardly rang. Sully hung out with me. We watched soaps with me laying on my side on the bed because I was feeling crampy. I was starving. I must have had 3 bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch that day. But even though I was starving, I was also having some stomach issues. Basically, my stomach was emptying itself. But it wasn't just like I was sick to my stomach. It felt like all of the bones in my pelvis were opening up and my insides were coming out because there were no bones to hold myself together anymore. It was the strangest feeling.

So in and out I went to the bathroom. I lost my mucus plug. Now THIS was exciting. I was really hoping this was going to be the day, but I wasn't getting my hopes up. Until now. But the crampy feelings I was having still didn't feel like contractions. Everyone described contractions as an intense feeling. A pulling from the inside. A tightening of your body. Nope, this just felt like really mild cramps. But they kept happening.

I was bored. I figured I would check out contractionmaster.com, a website I had read about where you can easily track your contractions. I wanted to be ready when the time came. I watched Days of Our Lives and The Doctors, pressing S on my keyboard every time I felt a cramp start or stop.

I was glad I was able to be resting in the quiet of my own home. I would not have wanted to be driving with these crampy feelings. Or sitting in my cube answering inane questions. It makes sense that it all came down to the fact that I had to take care of the dog. Baby T is named after a dog. He has a dog's soul. But that's a story for another time.

By the time Big T got home from work, my "cramps" were 5-7 minutes apart and had been going on since 2:45 PM. He wanted to go talk to the neighbor whose dog bit ours to ask if she would pay the vet bill. I offered to go with him, but let him know that I might be in some pain. He didn't want my water breaking in her entryway. So he went by himself. I also asked him to stop at the store and pick up some bagels, because I was still starving.

While he was gone, I had cleared out the living room and laid down a blanket for Sully. I was sitting at the coffee table, organizing the playlist I wanted to upload to my mp3 player to bring to the hospital with me. When one of my "cramps" came on, I would close my eyes and melt into the song. Some songs I immediately rejected. And some felt really good to listen to. I rocked on the exercise ball some more and enjoyed the quiet and my music.

By the time Big T got home from the store, I had lost my appetite. I asked him to make me a bagel with butter, but I couldn't take a bite. I was now on all fours with my arms draped over the exercise ball, rocking and rocking. It felt good. It didn't feel comfortable to sit down. Big T poured himself a Captain and Coke, and I asked him to make sure he only drank one of them tonight. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. I called Pamela, my midwife, to let her know that there was still a lot of time left, but I felt like something was happening. She said she better take a shower just in case. But Big T and I really thought this was probably just another false alarm like the previous Friday had been. He tried to take a picture of me on the exercise ball. I yelled at him. He was watching reruns of Two and a Half Men on TV. I usually think this show is hilarious. But when the laugh track went off, I said, "Mute it." I was surprised at how weak my voice sounded. Big T didn't hear me. "What?"

"Mute it!"

Whoa. What was happening here? I couldn't eat, and I didn't want to watch one of my favorite shows? This is about the time that I realized I might really be in labor. This really might be it.

Around 8, I had to pee. When I went to the bathroom, I felt a rush of pressure. I felt like the baby was going to fall out of me. This made me nervous. Actually, it really freaked me out. I came out of the bathroom and told Big T we had to go the hospital now. This was coming from the person who really wanted to labor at home as much as possible.

If I had had a doula, someone who could coach me through what was going on and reassure me that all was normal, I would have been able to stay home and labor for longer. But as it was, I had no idea what this was all supposed to feel like and I didn't want to have the baby in my toilet. I waited on my hands and knees while Big T packed the car. Mind you, I was in the middle of the narrow hallway that connects the front door with the rest of the house. Big T had to climb over me with every trip out to the car.

The worst part was trying to figure out how I was going to sit in the car. I couldn't sit on my butt, I was only comfortable on my hands and knees. I tried to kneel on the floor and lean forward on the seat but there wasn't enough room for my giant belly. I ended up on all fours on the backseat with my head on our duffel bag and pillow. It wasn't bad--just a bit bumpy--and we got to the hospital pretty quickly.

As soon as we pulled up to the hospital entrance, I jumped out of the car and had a contraction. Which still felt like cramps, but they were much more intense. With every contraction, I had to fall down onto my exercise ball. I felt much better on my hands and knees than standing upright. I was hugging the exercise ball next to the car, and I remember some other people driving up and looking at me funny. Sorry, ladies. I'm in labor. Into the hospital we went. We had no recollection of our hospital tour, and took the elevator to the wrong floor. By the time we got to the labor and delivery floor, I was having another contraction. I dropped onto the exercise ball outside the elevator while Big T went to the nurse's station to prepare them for me.

I made it to the nurse's station a few minutes later and was greeted by a not-so-nice nurse who shoved some paperwork at me. I had to keep dropping to the exercise ball while filling it out. I think she thought I was being dramatic. As we were following her to triage, she asked me, "So why are you here?"

Are you serious?

"Uh, I think I"m in labor."

"Mmm-hmm..." she responded with pursed lips. "When is your due date?"

"Yesterday."

She brought me into triage and shoved a gown at me. I told her I didn't want to put it on just yet. She muttered something about having the nurse deal with me. A nurse came in and began to take vitals, and Pamela arrived a few minutes later. My biggest fear was that I wasn't going to be dilated at all. That I was just a big wuss, sitting in triage with a closed up cervix and some braxton hicks. But when Pamela checked me I was 5 cm dilated. I breathed a sigh of relief and was admitted.

...to be continued...

A KICK IN THE PANTS

May 25, 2009 was Memorial Day. I had the day off. Big T was working and I had planned to get a lot done around the house. I was nesting. It was a beautiful day, and I woke up and did some laundry. Some time after lunch, I took Sully, our yellow lab, out for our daily shuffle.

We had made it halfway around the neighborhood when a neighbor's dog, who wasn't on a leash, bolted out from their yard, heading straight for us. I froze. The dog attacked Sully, and I held tight to his leash. The dogs circled my legs, Sully whining and trying to get away, and the other dog chomping at the bit. All I remember was screaming something over and over again. Something like, "Get off! Get off!" I became tangled in the leash, and in an attempt to keep the other dog away from mine, I fell to the ground.

It seemed like the owner of the dog was moving in slow motion. She stood in her yard calling for her dog, and the dog continued to attack Sully. Finally, I shreiked, "Come and get your dog!!" And she came over, grabbed her dog, I got up off of the floor, she apologized (barely) and I stood there, shaking.

"Ok, let's go home," I told Sully. As I began to shuffle away, something felt funny. I felt like someone had loosened all the joints in my pelvis. It didn't help that my heart was jumping around in my throat, I was still shaking, and there was a heavy, crampy nausea in my stomach. I couldn't take a regular stride. I could barely put one foot in front of the other. Slowly but surely, Sully and I plodded back home.

When we got home, I noticed that Sully had been bitten several times by the other dog. I forgot all about my pain and scrambled around the house, collecting supplies. I cut his hair so I could see the wounds, and cleaned them out with peroxide and gauze.

Then I threw myself on the couch. And all my plans for the rest of the day went out the window. I just...didn't feel right...

WAITING FOR THE MOMENT

When I woke up on May 23 of last year, I felt fine. I did not feel 40 weeks pregnant. I had no pains, no twinges, no crampiness. Nothing. I had left work the day before excited that I might be getting my 2 months off and I might not have to go in on Tuesday. (It was Memorial Day Weekend, so I had Monday off.) But this morning, I was thinking, "no such luck." I felt great. I was a little disappointed. My due date was May 25, and I wasn't feeling a thing. Back to square one. It was hard not to be anxious about it. But I knew my body would do what was necessary when it was ready.
I did a lot of walking that weekend. Shuffling was more like it. It was a beautiful weekend, and I felt great.

To keep you all busy waiting to hear the rest of my birth story, I will entertain you with some pictures of Baby T's little birthday celebration we had today.

Baby T loved his bubble maker.

And the little boat filled with animals.

Everybody was oohing and aahing over this gift.

Baby T was very excited about his Vermont Teddy Bear.

Whoa. What is that and why is everyone singing?

Oh, they're singing for me?

Cool! You blew it out!

Mmm.... my first cupcake is delicious. Even if it has no sugar.

AND SO IT BEGINS...

On May 22 of last year, I woke up feeling a little uncomfortable. For some reason, it was really uncomfortable to sit down. It was three days before my due date, the Friday of Memorial Day weekend. I had never had any Braxton Hicks contractions or really any discomfort yet during my pregnancy. (Not counting my feet, which had swelled to the size of Big T's. Believe me, that was NOT comfortable). But this morning, I felt a little crampy. And maybe a little pressure. I had a wave of excitement pulse through me. I was getting close.

But not close enough. I showered, got dressed for work, packed the exercise ball in the car, and left for work. Since it was uncomfortable to sit on a hard chair, I sat on my exercise ball at my desk all day. Got some weird looks, had people asking some strange questions--like when I was going to get my membranes stripped--um, yeah. Not something I was going to discuss with my male coworkers, and not something I was planning on having done. I was going to let this happen on its own.

I left for work that day with a lot of well wishes: "Have a great maternity leave! Good luck! I hope your labor goes well!" I was so excited. This was really happening.