Four Months

So Much Depends Upon

3 Months

It's already difficult to remember what it felt like to hold him when he was a newborn. According to our scale at home (not a baby scale), he is something like 12 pounds 13 ounces. He's rolling over (stomach to back, halfway from back to stomach) and grasping toys, and he could totally maneuver himself out of his bouncy seat if not strapped in.


He started daycare two weeks ago. As PJ noted to people, tears were shed, but we're not saying whose. He is apparently quite the entertainer at daycare, talking and cooing at the other kids and Rachel. As soon as he arrives, Rachel's daughter and a neighbor girl who is there before school run to greet him. Rachel's daughter made him a "hexagon man" at school one day. He's definitely getting love and care, though I must admit that I miss getting the best part of his days. He's pretty worn out by the time we have him at home. I suppose the upside of that is that he is more snuggly, content to have me carry him with his head resting on my shoulder rather than demanding to be facing the world.


Last weekend was gorgeous, and we spent a lot of time outside. Lucky us, we were dismissed from work early on Friday and got in a sunny walk around the neighborhood. On Saturday, we spent a goodly amount of time at the Berkeley Springs Apple Butter Festival. Kieran hung out in the Bjorn, taking in the hordes. Sunday was the best, though. We took a five-mile hike to Pee Wee Point up in Sleepy Creek Wildlife Management Area and had a picnic of sorts out at the point. Then we took advantage of having Monday off and headed to Martinsburg for the sushi buffet at Asian Garden. Kieran really likes the spicy tuna roll.

On Not Camping

Okay, so we didn't actually end up camping a couple of weekends ago for a number of reasons, but the clincher was the weather. The days were forecasted to be beautiful - sunny and 70 degrees, but the nights were to be in the mid-40s. I have no doubt that we could have done it, but I just didn't want to make our first experience camping with Kieran any more stressful than it (I'm sure) already will be. Middle of the night feedings and diaper changes while trying to keep warm just didn't sound that appealing - especially on top of a fussier-than-normal couple of weeks. Can two weeks in the life of an infant be out of the norm, or is that simply called a change in habits? Luckily, it seems to have been (mostly) a jut out of normalcy. But I digress...


While we didn't go camping, we did have a pleasant hike up in Sleepy Creek and a great campfire dinner up in our clearing with Ali and Jim and their kids, Sawyer and Delaney. Really, with three of us holding sleeping or sleepy children, PJ was the one who did most of the cooking. We had pizza mountain pies, sausages (fake, for those meat-eaters wondering), and s'mores. Mmm. I love campfires.

Two Months

Kieran had his two-month appointment yesterday. He's now 11 pounds 8 ounces and is 24 inches long. I can't believe how much he's grown in just two months. His neck and leg muscles are really strong, he can move himself around quite a lot when he's laying down, and he's talking up a storm. He coos and gurgles and giggles; last night we even got a squeal. I figure in a couple years I'll be posting about how I wish he would stop talking just once in a while, but for now I just love to hear him talk.

Firsts

A couple of weeks ago, Kieran had his first "hike" out at Cacapon State Park. Actually, it was also my first hike post-partum, which left me sore but happy. Kieran mostly slept in the Bjorn.

Kieran also got really engaged with his play gym (or whatever they call it) for the first time the other day. Check out the video:

We have also scheduled Kieran's first camping trip. We're going to go to Shenandoah National Park in September, with the caveat that if it's cold and rainy we're ditching the plan!

For the Sake of Veracity

We had our post-partum meeting with our doula last weekend to process the birth and also the prenatal preparation. Celeste set us straight on the timeline of events a little bit. Things were so crazy that I got them a little out of order. So:

1. Convinced doctor to wait on the internal monitor.
2. Doctor checked my progress and broke my water.
3. Baby's heart rate kept dipping, and no change of position would help.
4. Doctor attached internal monitor to baby.

And the rest proceeded from there. I just couldn't leave inaccuracies floating out here!

The Six Onesie Day

We (and by "we" I mean Kieran) achieved a new record today: 6 onesies. Of course, this is presuming he doesn't lay waste to another one in the next two and a half hours. Sheesh. I got to deal with one blowout in the service center of a car dealership. One involved a clothing change for me, too. For PJ, one came seconds after he boasted that the baby had never had a fountain moment when he was changing him. Ha!

One Month

I can't believe it's been a month since Kieran's birth.

The Birth, Not the Baby

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't angry, sad, and grieving over the cesarean section. You're probably thinking something along the lines of, "Well, but you have a healthy baby, and that's what matters." However, the message that the end justifies the means is an inappropriate one here. Yes, my beautiful, healthy baby boy matters, but he's an entirely different topic from the manner of his birth.

I'm grieving over the loss of my birth experience. I knew that I might not have my ideal birth as I'd envisioned it, but, wow, I never thought I'd end up with a totally medicalized birth. It's not about feeling disappointed with my body; I know that some women do feel that they failed in some way. For me it's about missing out on the full experience of a natural labor, pushing my child into the world and being the first to greet him as he lay on my chest. Kieran will be my only child, and I wanted that elemental, primal experience with him.

I'll never know if Kieran's birth could have been different, and that keeps me from being entirely at peace with it. I know that I should probably be grateful that I live in a time and country in which we have the knowledge and skill to deliver babies and mothers that are in danger and might otherwise die or be horribly injured. But I don't know that my c-section was inevitable. Was there any point along the chain of decisions where we might have avoided the c-section? It doesn't help that the doctor who performed the surgery was the doctor I liked and trusted least out of all the doctors I saw in the practice.

I went to a La Leche League meeting this week, where I ended up in a discussion about birth. When asked about my own experience, I mentioned my disappointment in the c-section. (Don't worry, I didn't go on and on about it like here or anything! I stayed up-beat.) One woman, who had three children with her, proceeded to gush about all of her birth experiences and how beautiful they were and how she just loves birth. I don't begrudge her her wonderful births, but hearing about them did make my heart ache. I'm moving through the grief; at some point I will be able to put it away for good.

Not What We Expected - Part II

(Warning: REALLY LONG birth story to follow.)

(And, hey, it only took me three and a half weeks!)

(And, oh yeah, about halfway through I stopped trying to write well at all.)

Cascading consequences indeed.

By Friday morning, it seemed the cervidil had worked wonders: I was 2 cm dilated and was having regular, strong contractions. Yay! PJ and I walked the halls of the hospital, stopping periodically to practice all the pain coping techniques for early labor that we had learned. Celeste, our doula, arrived, and all the grandparents came to sit in the waiting room. I had no doubt in my mind that the cervidil had helped jump-start the birth process, and I was almost joyful in labor. By late Friday afternoon, we had to admit that labor had pretty much come to a standstill. My doctor agreed to another night of cervidil before resorting to pitocin. We sent Celeste home for the night and settled in with hope.

Saturday morning it was clear that the second dose of cervidil had done nothing. I was having contractions, but they were irregular and unproductive - I was still only 2 cm. My doctor laid out the options: pitocin or c-section. He wasn't seriously suggesting c-section at that point; he was just trying to be clear about what was possible, and he definitely was not willing to let me go home. I don't think I'd have been willing to go back home without a baby at that point anyway, even barring the low amniotic volume!

The next doctor on call ordered the pitocin drip and we got ready to labor. Once the pitocin started, my contractions began quickly. We turned on 80s music via Sirius web and asked each other Trivial Pursuit questions between contractions. Okay, so Celeste did the asking while PJ and I tried to come up with answers. However, it didn't take long for the contractions to come so hard upon one another that we had to do away with the Trivial Pursuit; I couldn't come up with an answer before another contraction started and then couldn't remember what the question had been once the contraction was over!

Coping with contractions? I hung onto PJ and swayed and moaned and relaxed everything while Celeste talked me through them and then later applied counter-pressure as they got stronger and closer together. Trips to the bathroom were a challenge; I had to unplug two different connections to the machine monitoring fetal heart rate and contractions, unplug the IV, and then wheel the IV with me over to the bathroom - all while having contractions. But we were doing great. I felt like all of our reading and meetings and practice with our doula (as well as having her there, of course) were really paying off. We were doing this! We were going to have a baby!

Then the nurse was in the room to readjust the monitors, saying the doctor was concerned about the baby's heart rate. Then the doctor was in the room, saying she wanted an internal monitor on the baby's head. Things got pretty crazy pretty quickly from that point. I asked her to please wait to see what the readjustment of the external monitors showed, and the nurse's comments regarding how well she'd been able to monitor the baby before the belts slipped backed me up. I didn't want to be confined to bed - contractions are A LOT harder to manage when you're stuck in a bed. The doctor argued something about not wanting anything bad to happen and be liable in the whole scenario, and I - less worried about her freaking liability and more worried about my baby - shot back something about how it was MY baby and I wanted something bad to happen even less than she. It absolutely infuriates me how obstetricians seem to have a knack for implying that they have a baby's best interests at heart while the parents are somehow being reckless and selfish for not blindly accepting what they often admit are liability-reducing actions. Anyway, the doctor assured me that I would be able to labor standing up again after the internal monitor was attached to the baby's head. She did not tell me how much the procedure was going to hurt. I think I might have actually screamed. She noted that I was about 4 - 4.5 centimeters dilated and still not totally effaced (part of the reason it hurt so much). Oddly, even through the pain and confusion, I registered the student nurse's face - she was totally freaked out - and felt amused. I was still having contractions; the doctor still had her hand up in me, wanting to know if I want her to break my water. I didn't know what the right answer was at that point. I couldn't get a read from either PJ or Celeste in the midst of the chaos, so I said yes, thinking of the stories I'd heard of pitocin labors being sped along by breaking the water. In retrospect, I think it was probably a bad idea to break my water - why did the doctor even seem to want to do so? Having no water to ease the pitocin contractions was going to stress the baby; maybe waiting until I was much closer to 10 centimeters would have kept the baby from being so stressed. The baby certainly got stressed. As soon as my water was broken, the baby's heart rate was all over the map, dipping frighteningly low. No position change was helping. The number of people in the room kept increasing seemingly exponentially. Celeste mentioned an amniotomy, a procedure that involves maneuvering a catheter around the baby's head to infuse fluid. The doctor tried it three or four times, but couldn't get around the baby's head. This was the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my entire life. I'd have to be a much better writer to find words to describe it. I know that I screamed through each attempt. I remember hearing the doctor ask for a third (or fourth?) catheter and having the panicky thought, "I just want a c-section." I feel the need to point out that this was a pretty radical thought for me, considering that's the last thing in the world I had wanted. I remember telling PJ and Celeste that I couldn't do it. They kept me focused. After the third or fourth attempt at the amniotomy it was clear this all wasn't going to work. The baby's heart rate was still erratic and dipping, so the doctor told me I had to have a c-section and that it might have to be under general anesthesia if they couldn't get the spinal block done. I was very scared. My limbs were trembling uncontrollably, and the herd of nurses in the room was prepping me for the c-section already. As contractions ripped through me, the doctor was yelling (most of all of this was done in yelling because of my own vocalizations and the large number of people in the room) all of the possible horrible outcomes and shoving paperwork on a clipboard at me to sign. I remember saying, at some point, "If they're not doing any good anyway, why won't these fucking contractions stop?!" Nurses were hustling PJ into a surgical suit; he made a quick call to our parents to let them know what was going down. Then the anesthesiologist was there talking about the spinal block. Before I knew it, I was being wheeled to the OR, with PJ left behind in a bright, sterile hallway. I don't know why they wouldn't let him be there with me while I got the spinal block; I was terrified of the spinal block. Instead, they put the student nurse (who was too new to be supportive) in the support position while the anesthesiologist did his thing and I tried to stay still. It wasn't all that bad, actually. Compared to what I had just gone through, it was a mosquito bite. Finally, PJ was there with me, and they seemed to have started the surgery. I remember asking PJ to distract me from the tugging I could feel happening below the blue drape; I didn't want to think about exactly what they were doing to me down there. It seemed to take a long time, but then the anesthesiologist, who was behind my head the whole time supplying cool washcloths in addition to the drugs, was tapping PJ on the shoulder and telling him to stand up and look. PJ got to see the doctor pull the baby from my abdomen, and he knew right away that we had a son. I got to watch PJ's face as he saw the baby for the first time, and it was a beautiful, beautiful moment. They whisked the baby across the room to do all the newborn procedures and also to make sure he was okay since he had been in distress. PJ got to watch and be with our son while that was happening. Unfortunately, I hadn't seen him yet and couldn't see anything that was going on. Finally, PJ got to bring him over for me to see. What an amazing moment. I had a little, beautiful, baby boy. I couldn't believe I was finally looking at this little person who had grown inside me. The student nurse and even the anesthesiologist videotaped these first moments for us. What great people. All too soon, PJ went off with the baby to the nursery and it seemed like it took forever for them to stitch me up and get me to recovery. The trembling finally stopped because they injected medication for that, too. I was in recovery for about an hour, but it didn't seem even that long. I was groggy and sleepy for a little while. They cleaned me up, Celeste got to come in with me, my nurse showed us the placenta and the umbilical cord (very cool). Finally, they wheeled me to my room, stopping at the nursery on the way to "pick up" the baby. The afternoon is a little hazy to me due to the spinal block and other medications they injected during the c-section. I got skin-to-skin with the baby and fed him a little right away, and PJ spent some skin-to-skin time with him to warm him up. Our parents got to spend some time with us and the baby. I was nauseated and threw up several times and then pretty much passed out for several hours with the second anti-nausea medication they pumped into me. Probably a good thing because our son also didn't get the memo about newborns sleeping through the first night. But that's a different story. We finally got to welcome Kieran Patrick O'Hanlon Laughner into the world.

Not What We Expected

This hasn't really gone down at all the way we expected. We had drama on Monday with low amniotic fluid and the threat of induction, but I was able bring up the amnio level by hydrating the hell out of myself for six hours before a retest. Whew.

This morning, we had another non-stress test and check of fluid. Non-stress test was great; fluid was low again - particularly bad news since I got up at 4:30 this morning and immediately started drinking water. The doctor was concerned and recommended inducing today. So not what we had wanted or envisioned. We took a while to decide - talking to the doctor and our doula. We had to really think about it.

It's not just that induction wasn't what we had planned; it's that all indications otherwise were that the baby was healthy and vigorous and concern about what inductions can involve and lead to. The cervidil used to ripen the cervix can cause contractions that are stronger than natural. The pitocin that might be used to start contractions if the cervidil doesn't do it definitely cause contractions that are nastier than natural ones and harder on the baby - with the added bonus of denying you the natural rush of the pain killer oxytocin that the body produces with "real" contractions. This often leads to an epidural, which can, in turn, lead to a cesarean section. An upsetting cascade of consequences to consider.

Ultimately, we decided to stay and let them induce today, knowing that if we didn't, we would have to return tomorrow and they would, in all liklihood, not let us get out of an induction tomorrow. I figured if I was going to go into labor before tomorrow, then the cervidil would work to send me into labor today. Overlying all of that was the concern that the low fluid really could be a bad indicator.

So now we are in a hospital room, waiting for the cervidil to do its thing and hoping that it sends me into labor so we don't have to resort to pitocin. The baby is as active as ever, and it's even kind of fun to listen to his/her heartbeat and hear his/her movements on the monitor. I admit I'm nervous about the coming pain, but I'm also looking forward to finally holding this baby in my arms.

Still Awaiting the Next Stage of This Adventure

So, I decided to take a cue from Melissa and distract myself from being 41 weeks pregnant (apparently no one told the baby he/she had a 40 week deadline) by creating this blog. The picture is of me before I sailed right on past the due date. I think I probably don't look as happy now.

I figure this blog will also help us keep grandparents up to date after the baby has decided to show him/herself. We'll be able to post a report of the baby's first camping trip at two weeks old... just kidding... we'll wait until he/she is three weeks old at least!

I guess for now we'll just wait and occasionally wander into the nursery and look around, wondering when this room will be occupied, and try, try, try to enjoy these last hours of quietude - that's what all the been-there-done-thats advise, anyway.

So today we perused the Berkeley Springs Farmers' Market, buying up eggs, peaches, blueberries, cherries, and zucchini (PJ insisted we add at least one vegetable). I love our farmers' market. Then we took Seamus to the C&O Canal for a walk and some stick chasing into the Potomac River. The water felt great on my swollen feet, and Seamus got a great workout swimming against the strong current.