My sister gave birth to her first baby on Friday, and talking with her about the birth has really flooded me with memories.
As she described her daughter's emergence into the world, I remembered so clearly the crowning and the final pushes. I pushed for nearly three hours. X was sunny-side-up, and his position made this part extremely difficult.
I remember being told to push, push harder. Put your chin to your chest. Pull on the sheet (attached to the bar over the bed) and concentrate!
Now, wait! Don't push. Wait, wait.
Then, his head was free. I needed to push again, and again.
Suddenly his warm, tiny body was swimming out of me in a rush of fluid. All the support nurses sprang into action. I lay back, overwhelmed, wanting to hold my tiny baby, waiting for him to be handed to me.
Pride and grief mingled. I had done it -- delivered my baby -- but I would no longer feel his swimming movements inside. He was in my world. In our world. He was taking his first breaths.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Pattern
Sit on the Pilates ball.
Stand up and walk around.
Shake left hand, as if fanning myself.
Kneel at the edge of the bed, husband and mother-in-law massaging and squeezing my hips together.
Breathe.
Focus on breathing.
Repeat.
For hours.
Stand up and walk around.
Shake left hand, as if fanning myself.
Kneel at the edge of the bed, husband and mother-in-law massaging and squeezing my hips together.
Breathe.
Focus on breathing.
Repeat.
For hours.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Indigestion
The indigestion started at the beginning of December, 2009. It was constant. It was awful. My stomach hurt. I complained to my husband, we tried various antacids, but they barely took the edge off.
I was under a lot of stress at the time. I began to think I had developed an ulcer.
Or a milk allergy. Yogurt also seemed to upset me more than usual. Was I becoming lactose intolerant?
By Christmas, my husband was as worried as I.
Then, inspiration struck. My husband asked on Christmas day, "Do you think you might be pregnant?"
My answer? An emphatic NOPE. It wasn't possible. I had PCOS. Endometriosis. I couldn't be pregnant. We'd been trying for a year to get pregnant. I had surgery to correct some of my issues, and had taken three rounds of Clomid with no ovulation. I'd had a period in August, but that seemed like a fluke. I hadn't had one since, but I certainly didn't FEEL pregnant. And, surely, I couldn't be four MONTHS pregnant without knowing it. So, nope. I had an ulcer. Or giardiasis. I was going to call the doctor after Christmas.
My husband told me, "I'm going to get you a home pregnancy test tomorrow morning, first thing." Then he went to cook our Christmas dinner -- turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes. Usually a favorite of mine, this time the aroma of the cooking meal made me sick to my stomach. Oh, I was definitely sick.
The next day, true to his word, he went out for a home pregnancy test. He brought it to me and I said, with a roll of the eyes, "Okay. I'll be back in three minutes."
Four minutes later, I was stumbling down the steps in a daze, gripping the positive test stick. "Holy shit. HOLY SHIT!" And we started laughing, crying, hugging. We were going to be parents.
I was under a lot of stress at the time. I began to think I had developed an ulcer.
Or a milk allergy. Yogurt also seemed to upset me more than usual. Was I becoming lactose intolerant?
By Christmas, my husband was as worried as I.
Then, inspiration struck. My husband asked on Christmas day, "Do you think you might be pregnant?"
My answer? An emphatic NOPE. It wasn't possible. I had PCOS. Endometriosis. I couldn't be pregnant. We'd been trying for a year to get pregnant. I had surgery to correct some of my issues, and had taken three rounds of Clomid with no ovulation. I'd had a period in August, but that seemed like a fluke. I hadn't had one since, but I certainly didn't FEEL pregnant. And, surely, I couldn't be four MONTHS pregnant without knowing it. So, nope. I had an ulcer. Or giardiasis. I was going to call the doctor after Christmas.
My husband told me, "I'm going to get you a home pregnancy test tomorrow morning, first thing." Then he went to cook our Christmas dinner -- turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes. Usually a favorite of mine, this time the aroma of the cooking meal made me sick to my stomach. Oh, I was definitely sick.
The next day, true to his word, he went out for a home pregnancy test. He brought it to me and I said, with a roll of the eyes, "Okay. I'll be back in three minutes."
Four minutes later, I was stumbling down the steps in a daze, gripping the positive test stick. "Holy shit. HOLY SHIT!" And we started laughing, crying, hugging. We were going to be parents.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Blisters
When the excitement of the birth started to die down, and all of the necessary tests had been performed, my husband and I pored over Mr. X, counting his fingers, caressing his earlobes, kissing his round little belly. Then we noticed the small blisters on his hands, just below the thumbs and on one wrist.
"What are these?" we asked the midwife.
She looked. "Oh, those are sucking blisters, he must have been pretty busy in there!"
I knew all at once what those tickling sensations low in my uterus had been. Little fingers, wiggling and working their way into Mr. X's mouth! He was busy inside, to have blistered himself!
The marks have now faded, but he still LOVES his hands and fingers. Some habits die hard, I guess.
"What are these?" we asked the midwife.
She looked. "Oh, those are sucking blisters, he must have been pretty busy in there!"
I knew all at once what those tickling sensations low in my uterus had been. Little fingers, wiggling and working their way into Mr. X's mouth! He was busy inside, to have blistered himself!
The marks have now faded, but he still LOVES his hands and fingers. Some habits die hard, I guess.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Itch
I had finally gotten to a point in my pregnancy when I could see the end looming large. I felt good, if tired and swollen. I knew that was normal, though. I was really starting to get excited for Mr. X's arrival, and felt like I had everything ready.
I had had some hiccups in my pregnancy -- raging heartburn, carpal tunnel in my right arm, and a gestational diabetes scare. The gestational diabetes diagnosis came as I was on the road with my husband, at 7 months pregnant, on our way to our last vacation, just the two of us. The doctor's office called at 4:30 p.m. on a Friday afternoon with the bad news. I sweated it the entire weekend -- not knowing what to eat, how to tell if I was in trouble. We managed a wonderful weekend in Asheville, NC, in spite of it. Come to find out on Monday morning, the nurse who called me made the wrong call -- one of the glucose readings from the three hour test was slightly elevated, but the obstetrician said that I was okay. What a relief!
So, here I was, three weeks out from my due date. I felt good. I was happy, excited, filled with anticipation. Would I know when the contractions started? What if my water broke while I was at work? Would we make it to the hospital in time? How long would it take, the labor, once it got started? Would I really be able to stick to my birth plan? Would I fall in love with Mr. X immediately?
Then, on August 1, the red bumps started to form. Itchy, tiny red bumps on my belly. At around the same time, my husband and I had discovered that somehow our home had a flea infestation. Gross! We attacked the fleas with everything we could throw at them, ultimately fumigating the house. That seemed to take care of the problem, except for the itchy red bumps that seemed now to be spreading.
The itching became unbearable. The bumps spread down to my thighs, my knees, my ankles. They started to appear on my breasts and on my arms and wrists. Something was wrong. I called the doctor's office, and they had me come in almost immediately.
The diagnosis: PUPPPs, or Pruritic Urticarial Papules and Plaques of Pregnancy. What? What is that? The answer is that nobody knows for sure why PUPPPs happens, but that it is usually in the last weeks of pregnancy. It's more prevalent in women who are carrying their first child, more common for women expecting boys. It is also more common among Latinas and Jamaicans, according to the midwife who examined me, stating that she was of Puerto Rican heritage.
The cure? Labor and delivery.
The light at the end of the tunnel suddenly shrank to a pinpoint. I began my maternity leave immediately, since at this point, I couldn't stop scratching myself, and my forearms were red and raw with the rash. On top of all of the questions from the people who came into my place of work about when I was due, whether I was having twins, unsolicited descriptions of gory childbirth, I now had a horrible rash and basically wanted to tear my skin off. I couldn't do my job anymore. The midwife wrote me a prescription for bed rest, and I just stopped going to work.
At home, I searched and searched the Internet for tips on how to ameliorate the itching, even if just for a few moments each day. I tried Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap, which stunk to high heaven. I used Benadryl cream, which didn't come in remotely large enough quantities, but seemed to work for a little while. I slathered myself with Sarna lotion, which stopped the itching only for as long as it also chilled me to the bone. I sat in the tub in a cool oatmeal bath for hours each day and sobbed.
I begged Mr. X to come early. I pleaded and cried and knew I was going to lose my mind if he didn't just GET BORN ALREADY!
As a last-ditch effort, I had my mother-in-law, who was staying with us at the time, bring in the V-8 Juice. I had read online that some women who suffered through PUPPPs swore by it, and I figured that if it didn't stop the itching, at least I'd be getting my vegetables. I drank a can as soon as she brought it home. I drank another later that day. I continued with two cans a day, oatmeal baths, Sarna. Anything to relieve the painful itching.
After maybe four days of V-8, the rash began to dry up. To go away. Could it be possible? Or was that just the first round of bumps running their course? Was another onslaught threatening?
We held our breaths. I prayed. I hoped.
It never came back.
Highly unusual, was the consensus among the midwives and obstetricians at the practice. Really, very out of the ordinary. Usually birth is the only cure. And even then, the rash sometimes lingers, or even gets worse for a few days or weeks after the baby's arrival. They were sure it would come back. I was terrified that it would, but it never did.
I had one week, free of itching and scratching. One week, staying home from work, no responsibilities. One week to myself, to calm and center my thoughts. To focus on what was now imminent: Mr. X's arrival. I was ready.
I had had some hiccups in my pregnancy -- raging heartburn, carpal tunnel in my right arm, and a gestational diabetes scare. The gestational diabetes diagnosis came as I was on the road with my husband, at 7 months pregnant, on our way to our last vacation, just the two of us. The doctor's office called at 4:30 p.m. on a Friday afternoon with the bad news. I sweated it the entire weekend -- not knowing what to eat, how to tell if I was in trouble. We managed a wonderful weekend in Asheville, NC, in spite of it. Come to find out on Monday morning, the nurse who called me made the wrong call -- one of the glucose readings from the three hour test was slightly elevated, but the obstetrician said that I was okay. What a relief!
So, here I was, three weeks out from my due date. I felt good. I was happy, excited, filled with anticipation. Would I know when the contractions started? What if my water broke while I was at work? Would we make it to the hospital in time? How long would it take, the labor, once it got started? Would I really be able to stick to my birth plan? Would I fall in love with Mr. X immediately?
Then, on August 1, the red bumps started to form. Itchy, tiny red bumps on my belly. At around the same time, my husband and I had discovered that somehow our home had a flea infestation. Gross! We attacked the fleas with everything we could throw at them, ultimately fumigating the house. That seemed to take care of the problem, except for the itchy red bumps that seemed now to be spreading.
The itching became unbearable. The bumps spread down to my thighs, my knees, my ankles. They started to appear on my breasts and on my arms and wrists. Something was wrong. I called the doctor's office, and they had me come in almost immediately.
The diagnosis: PUPPPs, or Pruritic Urticarial Papules and Plaques of Pregnancy. What? What is that? The answer is that nobody knows for sure why PUPPPs happens, but that it is usually in the last weeks of pregnancy. It's more prevalent in women who are carrying their first child, more common for women expecting boys. It is also more common among Latinas and Jamaicans, according to the midwife who examined me, stating that she was of Puerto Rican heritage.
The cure? Labor and delivery.
The light at the end of the tunnel suddenly shrank to a pinpoint. I began my maternity leave immediately, since at this point, I couldn't stop scratching myself, and my forearms were red and raw with the rash. On top of all of the questions from the people who came into my place of work about when I was due, whether I was having twins, unsolicited descriptions of gory childbirth, I now had a horrible rash and basically wanted to tear my skin off. I couldn't do my job anymore. The midwife wrote me a prescription for bed rest, and I just stopped going to work.
At home, I searched and searched the Internet for tips on how to ameliorate the itching, even if just for a few moments each day. I tried Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap, which stunk to high heaven. I used Benadryl cream, which didn't come in remotely large enough quantities, but seemed to work for a little while. I slathered myself with Sarna lotion, which stopped the itching only for as long as it also chilled me to the bone. I sat in the tub in a cool oatmeal bath for hours each day and sobbed.
I begged Mr. X to come early. I pleaded and cried and knew I was going to lose my mind if he didn't just GET BORN ALREADY!
As a last-ditch effort, I had my mother-in-law, who was staying with us at the time, bring in the V-8 Juice. I had read online that some women who suffered through PUPPPs swore by it, and I figured that if it didn't stop the itching, at least I'd be getting my vegetables. I drank a can as soon as she brought it home. I drank another later that day. I continued with two cans a day, oatmeal baths, Sarna. Anything to relieve the painful itching.
After maybe four days of V-8, the rash began to dry up. To go away. Could it be possible? Or was that just the first round of bumps running their course? Was another onslaught threatening?
We held our breaths. I prayed. I hoped.
It never came back.
Highly unusual, was the consensus among the midwives and obstetricians at the practice. Really, very out of the ordinary. Usually birth is the only cure. And even then, the rash sometimes lingers, or even gets worse for a few days or weeks after the baby's arrival. They were sure it would come back. I was terrified that it would, but it never did.
I had one week, free of itching and scratching. One week, staying home from work, no responsibilities. One week to myself, to calm and center my thoughts. To focus on what was now imminent: Mr. X's arrival. I was ready.