A rough night

Sunday night Dada and I had our first real challenging night with Bevin. It was a real nurse-and-cry-athon if you will. It was at the moment when Bevin wanted to nurse for the umpteenth time in 2.5 hours that I a) realized why people give up breastfeeding and b) was simultaneously thankful I gave birth in a place where breastfeeding is the norm and formula is not even mentioned (hence no sample formula lurking around my kitchen).

I had these two thoughts last night:
1) Do I have enough milk?
2) I don't want to keep doing this! I want to sleep!

My realizations about those two thoughts:
1) Of course I had enough milk. Demand equals supply. If she demands it it will come. Sure enough, I put her on the breast and she sucked and pulled and lo and behold I had another letdown. She was finally satiated.

2) Could I keep doing this? Of course I could. Did I want to? Well I wanted to sleep. But breastfeeding is very important to me. Just as important as sleep. One of the main reasons I wanted to take the rest of the school year off was to establish and maintain a solid breastfeeding relationship and not have to worry about a decreased supply because of lack of time at work to pump. I was not about to give up after a week. Monday night we made some changes - Dada brought in a dim light for diaper changes as well as the beloved wipe warmer (I'll never understand why people think this is a useless product) - two things that might prevent her from being jolted awake after she poops (and after she poops is typically when she falls asleep). I also kept her close all night, and it helped that the room stayed pretty dark. In the end, we got more rest because she slept more than she nursed. Being a second-time mother, I at least have the hindsight to know that "this too shall pass" instead of getting caught up in the Oh-My-God-is-my-kid-going-to-be-like-this- forever? way of thinking.

Here are a few pictures from that night...

In our arms

This little girl sure is spending a lot of time in the arms of her happy family.

The many faces of Bevin

It's such a trip to watch this little one sleep. I love the innocence of her face and how her expressions change from second to second. It's as if you can watch her dreams evolve.

Today

Today...
was supposed to be her birthday.
But she had other plans.
Today...
we celebrate her 4th full day alive and healthy, our tiny little newborn.
Today...
we fit her into a premie sleeper since she was literally swimming in everything else. By the end of today the sleeper seemed a tad too tight.
Today...
Bevin was worn for the first time. Dada did some babywearing in the Ergo.
Today ...
The three of us took a nap together. This is what it looked like as we wound down.

Falling asleep while sitting up

is pretty much the most awesome thing ever.
Football hold for breastfeeding is pretty cool too.

It's all about positioning

Can you tell she was a Frank Breech?

One day old

Smile

Early bird

She decided she had enough of my uterus. So glad she did. She's a darling.

Bevin Jean
6lb 5 oz
2:33 am
1/20/13

5 percent

So we saw one of the doctors at our practice for our 39 week appointment on Friday. She said that only 5 percent of babies are breech at term. 5 percent. How did my baby fall into such a tiny percentile? How did this all happen? It seemed like it went from my medical team's lack of concern for her breechiness to this "Oh well, guess you're screwed!" attitude in a matter of minutes. It hasn't been for lack of trying, but I wish they had made me more aware of things earlier on, so this didn't all come as such a shock and stress over the past four weeks.

If you couldn't tell already, I'm having a woe is me moment- a classic, "why did this have to happen to me" Mama moment that I've been known to have over the course of my 35.5 years on this earth. I wish she would just turn around. And miracles can happen. But she's literally not in any position to turn around. The other part of me just wants her to be here already, so I can put all of this behind me. So I can hold my little miracle. My little baby girl who survived my uterus, who grew despite the odds, and who lived to tell about it.

To top it all off, I've got a cold or maybe a sinus infection - not sure yet - and I have the C-section scheduled in 5 days. As it gets closer I'm becoming more fearful, and of course, I don't think it's a wise idea to go into a surgery while my body is trying to fight off another infection or virus. If I'm still feeling like crap Monday, I'm seeing our family physician.  And that's that.

Currently

Mama is...

Growing this baby for her final week in my womb. She seems much bigger and stronger than even one or two weeks ago. I can feel her moving around so strongly now, and in some parts of my uterus it actually causes some sharp pain. In others, like my ribs, where her arms and feet are, she feels like quite the bruiser.

Making strides in my ability to nest. It started Tuesday and continued into today and we still have so much work to do. Tomorrow is Dada's birthday, so I will be possibly making a small cake (sssh don't tell!) and, of course, our Friday night pizza. I've made dough from scratch three times so far in the past two months and all three times it tasted bland. Twice I made regular pizza dough and the other time I made multi-grain pizza dough. Sound yummy? It totally wasn't. Every time we buy dough from the grocery store, it tastes 1,000 times better. If you know of a good solid pizza dough recipe, I'm all ears.

Worrying a little less about things. In a week, my baby will be in my arms, and, as my friend Beth reassures me, all of the worrying I've done in the past month will fade away like the distant memory it is destined to become.

Dancing with Cole to "We are the Dinosaurs" by the Laurie Berkner Band. Cole has this whole routine he learned from his teacher at school. She lent us "The Best of the Laurie Berkner Band" cd last week and we've been playing it at home ever since.  And he's been dancing to that song and some other favorites like "Rocketship Run." If you've never heard of this band, you are seriously missing out! Get a copy from your local library or music store like NOW!

Laughing at everything I possibly can. Usually, the people who make me laugh most are Dada and Cole. Really, I am trying to find the joy and fun in things they both say and do. Case in point: Cole dropped a piece of bread on the floor during dinner one night. He said, "Where'd the bread go?" very innocently. And I said, "Hm, I don't know." To which he replied, "It's a mystery!"

38 weeks (Jan. 11)

Mushroom masterpiece

Cole is...

Growing bigger and bigger. "If I eat my dinner, I get bigger like you, Mama.""Yes, Cole." We've been reinforcing this over and over and surprisingly it's starting to work! He's eating more of his dinner, sometimes nearly clearing his plate. One of Cole's pet peeves is throwing his food out before he's done. So with an innocent, "Okay, I'm going to throw the rest of this in the garbage..." he runs over (because he still rarely sits at the table for longer than 2 minutes) and says, "No! No! Don't throw it out!" waving his hand emphatically, shooing me away and actually eating some of the food off his plate. I discovered that he doesn't really like his food too warm. He will happily eat cold pizza, cold chicken, and of course, those damn ice pops, which I am still making. And when I make them, he ALWAYS wants to know what exactly is in them. It's very cute. Needless to say, he's actually growing out of some of 2T clothes and is starting to fit into some 3T clothes. All of the 18-24 month clothes are too short, and when I went to measure him in the kitchen the other day, it was obvious he had grown maybe half an inch or an inch.

Making pancakes. This is his new favorite thing. He loves to get the stool from the bathroom, bring it into the kitchen (all the while exclaiming, "I'm strong!") and propping it against the counter to be included in any mixing festivities that might occur with said pancake making. We made pancakes from scratch a few weeks back and, though greasy, were DARN good!

Worrying a little about Mama going to the hospital for a few days. I just keep reminding him that I'm coming back and that he can visit me. Then we read "The Baby Sister" by Tomie DePaola, and he seems to worry a little less because in the end, Mommy comes home, and with a new baby sister, just for Tomie. If you are expecting - this definitely a must-read. It's actually based on the author's childhood experience.

Dancing to "Rocketship Run" and "We are the Dinosaurs" as well as other Laurie Berkner Band favorites. The dinosaur song explains a lot of roaring he was doing around the house for a few weeks. I'm so glad his teacher sent this home with him.

Laughing at himself every time he says "Cocka." It drives Dada crazy to hear Cole say this (because he worries Cole is regressing), but Cole simply thinks it's a funny word and then, consequently, he thinks HE'S funny, just by mere association. Plus, if he can get a rise out of us, then he's going to say it ALL.THE.TIME.  Tonight I tried on some other rhyming words for size and that helped a lot. I'm really expanding his vocabulary by teaching him words like Cole/Mole/Vole/Nole/Toll. He thought it was HILARIOUS!

Cole is always happier when Dada helps him build towers.

The bubble beard - never gets old.

Thanks to the ladies who co-host this lovely little link up...

When decisions consume you

After finding out last week that the baby was growing well, my next decision was this - how do I birth Baby Girl safely?

To help me answer this question, earlier this week we met with the most amazing Ob who - unlike any doctor in the Hudson Valley - also happens to like delivering breech babies. He sat with us for a full hour talking and answering every one of our questions. Ultimately, he left it up to us - he knew the practical issues were something we'd need to work out if we chose this path.

So Dada and I spent that afternoon, night, and the next morning talking, deliberating, hugging, crying, arguing until I finally reached my decision. I say my decision because Dada already made up his mind. I just needed to make up mine. Ultimately, the decision was left up to me. Whatever I wanted, I knew Dada would oblige (however grudgingly so) even if it wasn't what he thought was right for our family.

So on Tuesday morning, I made my decision - I had too much fear revolved around giving birth vaginally to a breech baby, and therefore, I did not think I would be able to emotionally and physically handle it. What does that mean? It means that my fear would have gotten in the way of the pushing stage - the most crucial stage in delivering a breech baby safely into this world. That fear could be detrimental to the baby. At first I thought I was a wimp, and even said as much in an email to a friend. But, I realize now, that I am being honest and courageous in my ability to admit the fear and acknowledge what it could do to me and, consequently, the baby. I could deny the fear or pretend I'll overcome it, but since giving birth vaginally to a breech baby is never something I considered until very recently, I know I can't just magically overcome this fear. I wouldn't want to lie to myself now, only to have it backfire later on.

There were, of course, other practical issues (mentioned above) that also factored into my decision - the hospital is an hour-and-a-half away, the doctor goes on vacation 6 days after my due date, it's the middle of winter, and there is about a 20 percent chance I could end up needing an emergency Caesarean.

I've decided not to let my body go into labor and THEN have an emergency or semi-urgent C-section, because I want a particular doctor to do the surgery. This doctor delays cord clamping if the baby is okay, will put the curtain down if you want to see the baby coming out. He tries to let you feel as though it is a natural birth rather than a medical birth. If I went into labor, I could get any doctor from my practice OR a doctor from my old practice. I like the other doctors from my practice, but I would rather this one. And I left the other practice for a reason. Also, another big factor in this decision is that I've heard that it is a bit easier to recover from a planned C-section than an unplanned one, especially one that follows labor. Of course, I am scared, but I am thinking positively as I resolved to do, that everything will work out for the best and that I will be okay during and after the surgery.

So we're forging ahead with the planned Caesarean on Jan. 24, the day before my due date. I'm in touch with one of the midwives in the practice who is helping me formulate a list of preferences and how to communicate that with the doctor and nurse. She's also going to see if they might allow my doula into the OR.

Basically, I am tired of feeling stressed out about all of the uncertainties and unknowns and not enjoying my last weeks as a family of three, or with my son as an only child. Although I've been trying to maintain my focus on Cole and Dada, it's hard because this decision and all of the events revolved around it have totally and utterly consumed me. I can't sleep, my heartburn is at an all-time high, my back is killing me, and the contractions are a constant.

So when I finally made the decision, we all breathed a sigh of relief, the tension was lifted, the mood lightened tremendously and we - all three of us - started to nest - almost immediately.

All that matters now is that we all have fun this next week. No more heavy hearts. No more worries.

Those worries? At the advice of my doula today, I wrote them all on a list, read it, tore it up, and threw it away. It was very liberating.

This is what happens when...

This is what happens when...


...Cole gets a hold of my iPhone and just has to watch some "bideos"

...Cole eats a cookie with waaaaay too much sugar

....there are no fingernails left to chew

...the pizzeria is showing Spongebob Squarepants

....Cole checks out a book at the library

....Cole refuses to nap

                   

...Cole refuses to nap and we get in the car and drive for 10 seconds

....Cole tries to take control of the iPhone

....marketers use Spongebob Squarepants to sell their stupid products

....I put Cole to bed (every.single.night)

Winter sends down its signature blend: Powdery White Stuff

Over the Christmas and New Year's holiday we got ourselves two nice little winter storms that dumped about maybe a foot of snow on our area. I can't remember the exact date, but these pictures are dated Dec. 30 and they are adorable. Dada took Cole outside to try out Cole's new snowshoes (awesome Christmas gift from Gramma). It was a total hit, that is until snow fell on Cole's head and into his face. Then? Not so much. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

For those of you interested, I backdated two holiday posts (purely for future blog book). The posts include adorable pics - you must check them out!

Christmas Post

Thanksgiving Post

38 weeks

She's growing
Just as I suspected, the growth of the baby is good. At my Wednesday appointment the high risk doctor estimated that her weight was 5 pounds, 10 ounces. Still in the 16th percentile, but I make small babies so this is okay and no longer a concern for him. He also surprisingly, did not balk when I mentioned we were looking into a breech competent doctor. He almost seemed to understand. He sat back and said with a smile, "We used to do those all the time, but then the medical legal world..." and we all know where this is going.

Gearing up
We have been getting ready for her "arrival" now for weeks. We've got the bassinet ready, cloth diapers donated to us from our good friends, Allison and Shawn, and we've got the new infant car seat installed. We've got lots of donated newborn girl clothes, which we can mix and match with the "sort of" gender neutral clothes I saved from Cole's storehouse of infant clothes. We've been talking to Cole constantly about the new baby and like he's been doing since the summer, he continues to lift up my shirt, and kiss and hug my belly, saying "Hi Baby." We've shared her name with him half a dozen times, but he keeps telling me her name is Dee Dee and smiles like I'm really going to name my daughter after a character from a cancelled Canadian kids musical show (the Doodlebops). I tell him "Nooooo. That's your baby doll's name!" And then I repeat our baby's name for him and hope it sinks in. Wednesday night it finally did. He said her name and gave her a hug. What's kind of neat about her breech position is that when he hugs my belly her head is right underneath his. The brother/sister bond begins. I know that it's going to be tough for him when he goes from being an only to having a sibling, but I can see how much love he already has for her, and that will make all the difference.

Breech Baby Girl
I've been contracting, but nothing regular for too long of a period of time. I am not dilated, and just a little effaced. Of course, I have the breech issue, and we are currently in the process of thinking out and deciding what to do to make sure we have a positive birth experience. We met with another doctor from our practice today and he filled me in on exactly what a Caesarean birth entails at the birth center and what my recovery would be like. We talked to him about our upcoming meeting with the breech competent doc and he shared that it's only been in the past decade that doctors have defaulted to C-sections for breech babies. He matter of factly said he could and has delivered breech, but as a matter of course, they don't. He told me the options I have that are not necessarily something he would recommend, but I could do  - I could refuse a Caesarean, I could come in 8 cm dilated and in both cases, they'd be forced to deliver her vaginally. But here's the thing - if I were to deliver her vaginally, I would prefer to have someone who is still presently skilled and practiced at delivering breeches, which is why we're meeting with this doc upstate. On the other hand, with breech births, there is definitely more risk involved, which is why a C-section is viewed by the medical/legal community as a safer option.

As I've said before - in the end I just want a healthy, happy baby and if you judge me for my choice, then so be it (although I don't think that you, my dear readers, will). I think back to what people have said to me in the past few weeks and just say to myself - who knows what they would ACTUALLY do if they were in my position. Whatever road you think I should go down, it's all easier said than done.

Photo op?
In the meantime, I have managed to convince Keith to do a maternity session in the garage now that he has given up his partnership in the photography studio he shared with two other photographers. He promises to set up a mini-studio and a background and we'll have a little session Saturday, which will probably include Cole. I am totally jazzed about this idea. With my bouts of anxiety and depression these past two and a half weeks, I could use a little pick-me-up.

Obstacles, hurdles and resolutions

Today we face another hurdle that we will overcome no matter its outcome. Today we find out how Baby Girl is growing. Two weeks ago, we went in and were told she had dropped down to the 16th percentile in terms of growth. Today, I know things will be okay. My belly has gotten larger, and I can feel inside my uterus that she is taking up more space. All my bets are on the contraction medication being the culprit. Even though we don't plan on a #3, if we ever did by accident here's what I'd do: bed rest and no medication because medication for an irritable uterus is just pointless. Really, all you need is rest and hydration. Ah, hindsight. And to think it took me two hellish pregnancies to figure this out.

I was awake at my usual time this morning (3:30 to 5 a.m.) and reading a few bloggers new year's resolutions. I realized something  about myself that I'm sure I've written about before - negative thinking is my forte and my biggest obstacle. I've been allowing myself to engage in negative thinking as of late, and, as a result, not much is going the way I want it to go. Why? Because I keep imagining the worst case scenario as being the reality. Some part of my subconscious thinks I need to mentally prepare myself for it in case that's what the outcome is. It's the biggest fault of my bloodline. We are a family of worry worts.  Always focusing on what bad things might happen instead of the good things we want to happen.

My main focus as of late is that I'm petrified of a C-section, so I keep imagining it happening and then, you guessed it, baby doesn't turn and that's the logical next step if I don't go for a vaginal breech birth. Was the doctor's call on Monday night a coincidence? I don't think so. I think it was a sign that not everything has to be one way. Our fate is not pre-determined, but we determine our fate. It really depends on what you believe drives humanity.

Of course as my due date nears (a little more than 2 weeks), since breech births are not commonplace in this country, I am left imagining the worst case scenario. Yet, two weeks ago, when I started researching this, I was imagining the best possible outcome (a healthy breech baby born vaginally), and support from all directions was falling at my feet. Now that I'm so close, I'm thinking negatively, and I know how that goes.

Well, no more. I usually don't make such grand new year's resolutions, but I know this is something I need to change in order for me to live a more peaceful and contented life. This is something I must do in order to get through the next few weeks and come out with a healthy baby and a positive birth experience.

I hereby resolve to think positively.

My positive thoughts for today:

My baby will turn when she's ready.

My baby is growing well.

My doula has offered to come over and go through a little hypnosis session in which I imagine the baby turning. I've been doing this here and there on my own, but I need to focus all of my energy and not just imagine it randomly in the middle of the night when I can't sleep. I have a feeling it will work.

Today

"Mama? Why are you sad?" Cole asked me this afternoon several hours after we returned from the birth center. This little boy. You can't get anything past him, he's so smart and intuitive. I'm sure it doesn't help that I wear my heart on my sleeve most of the time.

I didn't tell him, mostly because I knew that if I mentioned anything about the baby I'd start to cry again. So instead I suggested we go into the living room and make some bookmarks. We had fun until he started rubbing a stamp and the purple glue stick all over his little white toddler table. No big deal though. Worse things could happen.

Today, what made me sad was this: the external version did not work at all. She would not turn around. At all. The doctor practically picked her body up out of my pelvis, astounding Dada that there really is a person inside of there (even with a second one the life that we created still seems like such a miracle). I kept my eyes shut the whole time, only concentrating on my breath. It was painful in some spots, uncomfortable in others, so deep breathing when all I wanted to do was hold my breath, was how I got through the few minutes he tried.

Afterwards, we felt like there was no other recourse, especially since the doctor said we should not try for a third attempt (he tried twice), because she obviously didn't want to move.  He didn't try to convince us to do anything but go get a good breakfast. But we knew the next logical step would be to  plan a Cesarean instead of waiting for an emergency one to rear its ugly head. The last place we wanted to find ourselves was in labor with an unskilled midwife or doctor. So we scheduled a C-section for Jan. 24 with the same doctor who attempted to turn the baby. He treats Cesarean births like births and not just a standard surgery. Dada liked him immediately, and, although I had my issues with him earlier in the pregnancy, I knew he was the right one for Baby Girl's birth. He's older, but with a youthful energy you don't see in most doctors. We're also keeping our doula, because you never know. She may turn, yet. I still hold onto that small glimmer of hope. And having never had a Cesarean before, I'm sure her support and knowledge will be invaluable.

And then guess what? After dinner tonight, the office manager for a doctor who delivers breech babies returned my call from last week. If all goes well with our follow up growth ultrasound on Wednesday we will have a consult with him on Monday.

I know I've said before that Keith and I weren't comfortable with a breech vaginal birth, but I've since reconsidered. I've been doing a lot of soul searching and researching. In the past week, as a result of a post I wrote (on a private Facebook support group I belong to) and the subsequent comments I received, I started to look into it a bit more. I've talked to people both online and via telephone. Breech vaginal births are not unheard of, the doctors who will deliver breech babies vaginally are few and far between. The more I talk to people the more I realize that if the conditions are right, it is a possibility. But those conditions have to be right. Dada and I just have to be comfortable with it, and so does the doctor.

So we shall see how it goes.

It's crazy how much of an emotional (and physical) roller coaster I've been on this past week and a half. I can't imagine still teaching. So thankful for bed rest.

Tomorrow: Turning the Baby Around

Early tomorrow morning we are headed to the birth center where my Ob will perform an External Cephalic Version and hopefully (with many positive vibes from myself and all of you) will turn this baby around. Today we had a fun visit from friends, Allison, Shawn and Juni, and yesterday a nice visit from Papa Joe. We were reminded of the important things in life: family, friends, hugs, and laughter. We experienced all of that this weekend. It was a good foundation for me to have going into a procedure that's not going to go easy on my irritable uterus. And it was punctuated by a thoughtful phone call from our day care provider who just wanted to wish me luck and let me know her thoughts are with us.

I have my bag packed Just In Case, because as with any medical procedure there are risks, but the midwife who has worked with this doctor for years says he has skilled hands. I am putting my faith and trust in him.

My other fear/worry is that she will flip back around, but I have to think positively that once head down, she'll stay there.

So friends, be thinking of us tomorrow.

Head down, baby girl, turn around!

And stay there until you're ready to make your grand entrance. I promise I won't rush you.

(And hopefully the high risk doctor on Wednesday won't either.)