Six months

6 months

 Katherine, my little lovely,

You are six months old today and bright as a shiny new penny.  Many people have remarked on your expressive little face and the inquisitive gaze that you adopt as you take everything in.  I think sometimes people find it surprising to find such an engaging soul in a tiny little package not much bigger than some newborns.  Last week you weighed in at 11 lbs, 10 oz.  You've only just outgrown size 1 Pampers, and your 0-3 month wardrobe fits just about perfect.

You seem to attract attention wherever we go - walking down village streets, in the shops... little old ladies find you especially irresistable.  I was feeding you in an out-of-the-way corner of Windsor Castle and two little old dears with a tour group from some far-eastern nation came over and began to coo and comment over you.  They didn't speak English, but the tone of their conversation and their wide smiles were unmistakable.  In short order, we were surrounded by a knot of elderly admirers and one of them stuttered out what must have been one of the few English words she knew: "be-ooo-tee-ful," she said, smiling and bobbing a little bow, then that compliment was tentatively repeated by a few other people.  Your little eyes widened as you gulped down your bottle and assessed your fans, and when I said "thank you" to the compliments and smiled back at the group, you followed suit - grinning widely from behind the bottle, utterly charming them all.  After the group disbanded, one of the castle guards remarked that you're one of the more popular attractions on the day.

This month you've been exploring your vocal range, squawking like a baby pterodactyl to discover the limits of pitch and volume.  But, quite considerately, you do this odd little thing where you kind of swallow those squeals, not really pushing to full volume.  Heaven help us when you decide to do so, because I imagine it will be ear-splitting right up to the point where you go ultrasonic.  In the past week though, you've started emitting a dulcet, conversational babble which is adorable, and I would love to know exactly what you think you are saying.

You've started to try to hold your bottle, you bat at toys on the play gym and you are fascinated with hands, both mine and your own.  When I spread my fingers out in front of you, you place your hand against my palm and stare, as if absorbing the difference... and the similarity.

We went on our first holiday with you this month, to a little cottage in Cornwall, and on the way down we stopped at Granny's house.  She asked if I had any toys along for you and I told her you weren't really interested in toys yet, because you had exhibited a distinct indifference to them to that point.  I felt like mother of the year (not!) when she handed you a toy from her stash and you picked it up, examined it intently and then shoved it in your mouth.  It's not the first time that you've surprised me with a new trick and I'm sure it won't be the last.  I'm amazed at how much you absorb and learn all on your own.

Loves her cuddle blanket

You giggle when I kiss your apple-round cheeks, flirt with yourself in the mirror, and love to play your own version of peek-a-boo.  You ball up your cuddle blanket and bury your face in it, furiously kicking your little legs, then peek out over the top and go completely still to see if I'm watching.  You catch my eye and I exclaim, "there's Katherine!"  I can sometimes only see your eyes when you do that, but your grin under the blanket lights them up completely.

Speaking of holidays, you once again proved your resilience - not being rattled at all by the change in location or routine.  In fact, the first full day we were away, you were quite tired and I put you down to sleep before 8:00, nearly two hours early.  And just like that, your bed time moved from 9:00/10:00 to 7:00/8:00 and you never looked back.  With a few exceptions here or there, you're sleeping through to 5:00 for your first bottle and back to sleep until 7:00 or 8:00.  It's actually a bit hard for mummy to drag my butt out of bed that early now since your night owl ways for the first months of life seem to have reset my morning-personality.

Also, I braved my first cold with you this month (mine, not yours - thankfully) and it was the hardest thing I'd had to do as a parent so far.  You needed me, I needed sleep.  You win.  You'll always win when you need me, my precious baby girl.

In the past few days, you've started to lay your head on my shoulder when I hold you upright.  This is in stark contrast to your effort, without fail, to hold your head up and look around when in that position ever since you were born.  It's so lovely when you melt into me and tuck your head under my chin.  It's as if, after 6 months of me cuddling you, you're cuddling me back too.  I absolutely love it... and I love you...

... with all my heart,
Mummy

Five Months

20 weeks

 My darling Katherine,

You are 5 months old, baby girl, and this time last spring we were just finding out that you were on the way.  So you've now been a part of my life for a whole year.  I can't believe how time flies, yet I can barely remember life without you.

This week you weighed in at 10 lbs 14 oz, a huge leap forward from last month and you finally climbed onto the weight chart for your actual age - though you are smaller than 99.6% of all other five-month-old babies.  I love every tiny perfect part of you, my little miracle.  It's wonderful to know that you love me too, and I want to remember always how your little face lights up with pure, unadulterated delight when I walk into a room and greet you.

One advantage to your teeny size is you still fit well in your moses basket, and happily sleep right next to me there.  When you wake at night, I can soothe you by simply reaching out, and you often quickly fall asleep holding my hand.  At the beginning of the month, you started skipping the 4 am wake up, pushing it back by another hour.  We've also moved bedtime forward to around 9:30 pm and there were four glorious days in the past week where you slept through past 7 am.  I felt like a million bucks when I didn't have a tiny little person functioning as my alarm clock at O-dark-thirty.  You've started napping consistently for 45-minute stretches several times a day and falling asleep on your own if I put you down when you're drowsy.  I feel like a genius for figuring out this sleep thing, but in truth, you've done most of it yourself.  I'm not foolish enough to believe that you won't ever challenge me with your sleep patterns but for now, my little sweetie, I'm so proud of you and grateful for the extra ZZZs.

This month you learned to laugh with abandon, though it doesn't happen very often and the most random and unpredictable things tickle your funny bone.  When you really get going, I laugh like a nutter right along with you and we set up a spiraling chorus of giggles as you laugh at me laughing at you.  But even the tiniest giggle seems to set off a bout of hiccups, so clearly your little diaphragm could use the exercise.  You've also developed a certain brand of charm and a winning smile especially for your daddy.  Don't tell him you know this, but he is slowly and surely falling under your spell.  And you're falling for him too... sometimes when you are frustrated with Mummy, he'll pick you up and make you smile and giggle even while you're still in tears.

You've discovered the pleasure of testing the world with your tongue this month.  Your favorite thing to do is lick cloth... your muslin, Mummy's shirt, Hare's ears... it's all good to you.  You've become fascinated with your hands too, and since hand-eye coordination isn't one of your momma's strong points, I recommend all the practice you can get.

When I was pregnant with you my hair grew thicker than it had ever been in my life, but this month, little one, it started falling out incessantly.  In sympathy, you started losing most of your dark newborn hair and what's left is decidedly lighter.  You're rubbing out a bald ring around your head that is leaving you with this odd kind of monk tonsure at the bottom and a wicked comb-over on top.  So month 5 hasn't exactly been a good hair month for either of us.

You haven't yet made any real effort to start rolling or reach out and grab things in your world, but I think it's because you are such a chilled out little thing.  You are also incredibly brave and resilient, barely letting out a wail when you had your injections this month and almost never collapsing into tears when you are startled or scared. 

It seems to be a competitive pastime among mothers, comparing their little one's accomplishments, but the truth is, baby girl, I CAN wait until you conquer your milestones.  I CAN wait:

• for you to roll over, because I like knowing you'll stay where I've left you;
• for you to start teething, because I adore your gummy grin;
• for you to start sleeping in your own room, because I like being able to soothe you while barely moving and we both stay mostly asleep;
• for the time when I'm not the most important person in the world to you;
• for you to squirm to get out of my arms because you'd rather explore than cuddle;
• until you're no longer comforted by a simple kiss and a cuddle from Mummy;
• for the time when I can't coax a beaming grin from you just by smiling like a looney myself.

You've changed and grown so much that there's barely a shade of the teeny, tiny newborn we brought home.  I can and really want to wait for you to tell me when you're ready for your next accomplishment so you can enjoy being who you are now.  I am so honored to have the privilege of watching you discover your skills and embrace the world at your own pace.  Just know if it ever gets to be too much for you, I'll be right here, waiting with a kiss and a cuddle to make you feel better.

I love you with all my heart,

Mummy

Four months

15 weeks

Sweet baby Katherine,

At four months old, my little lovely, you've completed your "fourth trimester" and you are sweetness incarnate.  You squeal and smile, kick and coo and light up my days.  You now focus your laser beam of charm directly on us, rather than just smiling at the world in general, and it melts my heart into a gooey puddle.  Every morning when you wake up, you put a smile on my face so wide it threatens to split my head open.  I love to watch you yawn and stretch, then realize I'm there grinning at you like an idiot, and you respond in kind.



Last week you weighed in at 9 lbs 6 oz, and you have just about outgrown your newborn clothes, though you swim in the next size up so your wardrobe is a little awkward at the moment.  You've got fat wee wrists and knuckle dimples, chubby cheeks and yummy little baby fat rolls on your thighs.

Yummy thumby

This month, you've developed a tiny chuckle that sometimes breaks into an actual giggle, but I think it still surprises you as much as it does me when that happens.  You've spent the past few weeks diligently trying to suck your thumb.  You try over and over to bring your hand to your mouth, but haven't quite coordinated separating a thumb or a few fingers from your fist, so often end up shoving the whole thing in.  It's a beautiful thing, watching your diligent concentration on the task, which you undertake without devolving into frustration.  I find myself willing you on, subconsciously opening my mouth right along with yours.

You've also discovered your tongue is a plaything.  You curl it up, roll it around, stick it out as far as you can, and watch with fascination when I mirror your expressions back at you.  Speaking of expressions, you have the ability to arch one eyebrow and it's hilarious sometimes when you deploy that sophisticated expression at uncanny moments.  Like when your daddy is dancing to get a reaction, and you give him this look like, "Really, daddy? You are so uncool."  He laughs back and assures you that it will be just as bad when he dances at your wedding. 

Often when you're hanging out in the living room, you catch sight of a picture we've had enlarged, but haven't yet figured out where to hang, so it's currently living on our mantle piece.  It's a close up of you a few days old, smiling broadly in your sleep.  Whenever you notice it you start grinning as well, so you are, quite literally, cracking yourself up.  It's okay - you're not a lunatic.  That photo always makes me smile too.

Though you are largely good-natured, you do have demanding moments.  You aren't particularly talkative yet, but I know that whenever you start to squeal and vocalize, it's actually a friendly assertion that you need something, and a handy warning that means you'll soon be fussing if I don't attend to you.  You make me feel like a supermom since you're so easily placated.  But sometimes I think that you are simply an old soul that realizes I'm new at the motherhood thing.  I don't always get it right when trying to figure out what you need, but you figure I should get points for effort.  It's like you're saying, "Eh... I give you 6 outta 10; let's just go with it."

Now if you'd just give up crying out for that 5 minute snack at 3:30 most mornings, you'd be pretty much perfect.  But if that's the worst you're throwing at me, there's really nothing to complain about.  I know, baby girl, that this motherhood gig isn't always going to be sunshine and roses, but four months in it's looking pretty good to me.

I love you with all my heart,
Mummy

Three months

11 weeks

My precious Katherine,

You're three months old, my little lovely, and yet every day I still feel amazement that you are here - my very own daughter.  It feels like a dream sometimes.  I love to just look at you and take in all the tiny perfect details - rosebud mouth, big slate-blue eyes (your momma's eyes), sweet curling lashes, miniature fingers and tiny feet.  I drink in your very existence, which is a little miracle to me.

My funny Valentine

Last week, you weighed in at 8 lbs 14 oz, well more than double your birth weight.  You're about 20 inches long now, and I'm sure you've grown 5 or 6 inches since birth.  You're starting to sleep longer stretches at night; in the past week we've had four nights where you let me enjoy a blissful 6 to 8 hours of sleep in one go!  You really are quite a good sleeper, when you finally agree to bedtime sometime around 11 pm, and you're happy to sleep in 'til 10 or 11 am.  We spend many mornings cuddling in bed until nearly mid-day.  It feels decadent, indulgent and (dare I say) lazy, but these early days are rushing by and someday I'm not going to wish I'd gotten more done instead of spending many quiet morning hours holding you.  I do rather wonder if I've created a monster, though; what happens when we have to join the real world again?

A good napper?  Not so much.  I've tried to get you to nap on your own during the day, but you just will not do it for any significant length of time.  I think you might have managed an hour on our best go, and our most successful naps are the blissful afternoons when we curl up in bed together.  However, you will happily sleep for hours and hours in the baby carrier.  This often results in toast crumbs and other detritus collecting in your hair because I haven't quite mastered the art of eating neatly with you cuddled up to my chest.

We ventured into London for a whirlwind sight-seeing day, and you were good as gold in the carrier for hours, sleeping through a train journey, the Underground legs, a tour bus ride, a river cruise and a route march when we found our planned return tube stop closed and had to hustle to an alternate in order to catch our train for home.  I thought I would pay for all that well-behaved daytime sleep overnight, but you kept to your usual overnight routine.  You're so laid back... since we don't yet have a daytime routine, you don't mind if we switch things up.  I couldn't ask for an easier baby.

You've become quite the little ray of sunshine, readily beaming huge gummy grins and sweet smiles as your eyes follow us around the room.  You stick out your tongue and coo and sigh... and sometimes cry.  I rarely let you cry as a newborn, but on those unavoidable occasions, it was always the reflexive howl of a little person that didn't understand her own discomfort.  But now, you have a grizzling wee wail that is often as not traded for a smile as soon as you see me, and I know without question that you are trying to communicate.  For now, my little duchess, I am happy to acquiesce to your every wish.  Enjoy it while you can, for the world is a cold, cruel place and we can't always get what we want.

When I do soothe your cries, like when I reach to stroke your hair at night in your moses basket, I feel like a baby whisperer.  But the fact is that you are extremely good-natured.  Except when you need to fart... then you become quite mercurial, alternating from grin to grimace in rapid sequence, punctuated by a little toot with an almighty stench. (I sing "Smelly girl, smelly girl... what are they feeding you?")

You've started to grab my shirt while you nurse, like some minor street thug about to rough me up, as if to make sure I'm not going anywhere.  But rest assured, sweetie, I am here for you.  It's awesome that I am your favorite person.  Before motherhood, I anticipated how special you would be to me but I never realized how it would feel to know I'm so special to you.  I am the center of your world... and you, my darling, are the center of mine.

I love you with all my heart,

Mummy

Two months

Darling Katherine,

This month marked the arrival of your Christmas Eve due date, baby girl, and I'm astounded by the changes once you were "fully baked."  Last month, you quietly took the world in, reluctant to make much of a fuss unless you wanted to eat.  Now your cries have become much more insistent and communicative, and I clearly remember the day earlier this month when you first shed actual tears, which broke my heart a little.

You've found your lungs and decided to register a few official complaints.  You particularly dislike having your bits exposed during nappy changes.  Also, right around Christmas day, you realized that you weren't quite sure how this pooping thing is efficiently accomplished and spent much of your waking hours working on it, grunting or letting out a brief wail now and then.

You are, however, an extremely easy baby to soothe if you do get upset.  You have occasionally had little bouts of fussiness - by which I mean you are no longer content to simply sit quietly and watch the world go by.  Fortunately, it only takes a bit of a cuddle and all is right in your universe.  Now that you are big enough for your Action Baby Carrier, you are very happy in it snuggled up against my chest.  Though I didn't set out to be an attachment parent, you are my favorite fashion accessory; as long as you are more content in my arms than out of them, I will wear you proudly.

I find the range of expressions on your tiny little face endlessly fascinating.  I've seen curiosity, surprise, puzzlement, consternation, frustration... I particularly like your milk-drunk face... but nothing compares to the sweet little grin that you flash from time to time.  It was New Years' Day when you woke up happy to be alive and you smiled your first smile directly at me - one that I knew for sure wasn't only wind.  You were all, "Hey! It's you; I like you!"  Unlike those first weeks when you were unexpectedly thrust into the cold, cruel world and seemed a bit overwhelmed by it all, you are now fascinated by our faces and are clearly more curious about your environment.

The range of sounds you make has expanded, though I admit that one of my favorites is the sound when you experience sneezus interruptis, in which case you emit this little squeak that sounds a bit like the sound effect of a bullet whizzing by in some cheesy old western movie.  I also know the particular series of huffs and pants you make when hungry, so that I can recognize it even in the dark of night.

Speaking of nights, in the past week, you've started occasionally staying asleep for 3+ hours at a time overnight.  Though that doesn't sound like much, after 8 weeks of sleeping no more than 2 hours at a stretch, these substantial naps are bliss for your mummy.

You are growing into a proper little baby, weighing in at 7 lbs, 4 oz last week.  You've outgrown most of your Tiny Baby size clothes and graduated from preemie to newborn size nappies.  It's not surprising when I see how much baby fat you've acquired - your chubby wee thighs are adorable and you've grown a little double chin.  You also started to grow eyebrows this month and now look less like an escapee from the radiation treatment ward when you're wearing a hat.  Your tiny little lashes, which were blonde and nearly undetectable last month, are lengthening and darkening, and if you're lucky you'll inherit lovely lush lashes from your daddy.  Though your newborn hair is quite dark like daddy's, its roots are blonde and you might end up with hair like your momma's.  Trust me darling, blondes do have more fun.

Shhhh - don't tell anyone, but your momma turned 40 this month.  I've recently dreaded each birthday and last year at this time I really dreaded the countdown to this milestone.  But since you're here now, 40 wasn't so scary.  In fact, it barely even registered; there are more important things to think about.  I could lose hours gazing into your dark not-quite-brown, not-quite-blue eyes, wondering what you're thinking and what the future holds for you.  Just know, my sweet baby girl, that whatever it is, I've always got your back.

I love you with all my heart,
Mummy

One month

To my dearest Katherine,

In the hours before your birth, my darling girl, I worried about your early arrival.  But as soon as you were here, squalling, small and mighty, your APGAR score (9 initially, 10 out of 10 at 10 minutes) showed you in rude good health and you've given us no reason to worry since then.  You only lost 30g and gained back all that and more in the first 5 days. 

They took you to the Special Care unit solely because, at 4 lbs 2 oz., you were under 2 kilograms, and after monitoring your blood sugar for 24 hours, you were sent up to room in with Mummy.  We spent 8 days cocooned in a lovely warm bubble being looked after by the brilliant staff on the JR Radcliffe Maternity Ward 5 in Oxford.  The SCBU nurse told me when you were only 12 hours old that you are a laid back baby, and she's been proven right.  You hardly fuss or cry at all.  You've been an absolute doll, and don't think I don't appreciate it.

Why were we in the hospital so long?  Because, dearest, you needed to kick a bout of jaundice.  You spent the first two nights serenely sleeping under the bili-light in your cot.  After a night off, because we thought you might have licked it, a nurse came in at 2 am with the bad news you had to go back under.  When the light was set up again, the nurse said to me "well, at least she doesn't seem bothered about it" and left the room.  Ten minutes later, I pushed the call button because you were screaming and I was in tears, as it was unbearable to see you so distressed.  So they set the light up over my bed and you were perfectly happy as we slept under the lamp together.

Eventually, it was time for us to enter the big bad world.  You looked so teeny, swallowed up in your snowsuit in the car seat.  I was feeling quite emotional and delicate at this time, and I blinked back tears as we walked out of the hospital into brilliant sunshine on a crisp, cold day and your Daddy said, "Welcome to the world, little one!"

The first night home was a tough one for me, as I came to grips with pumping my milk and feeding you every three hours without the luxury of an endless supply of sterilized bottles.  But soon I settled into the routine with the help of your Daddy, who has taken fabulous care of me so that I can take care of you.

Because you were so tiny when you were born, you feel like a real live babydoll to me so "Babydoll" has naturally evolved as my nickname for you.  However, Daddy has adopted the equally apt "Squeaker."  You make squeaky little cooing sounds when you sleep, and when you've got wind, you make this odd little noise that sounds like a pigeon crossed with a turkey gobble.  Daddy said you could be the Squeaky the 12th dwarf... at which point I had to remind him that there are actually only seven dwarves.  He's got a lot to learn, your daddy. :-) But while watching him calm you during an intense set of hiccups during one your first days home, I told him "I don't think I have ever loved you more."

A wise friend told me that whatever you and I are experiencing right now in these first months, in 10 days it will be different.  Three weeks ago, I was struggling to get you to take 25 mils in a half-hour feeding.  This week I've seen you sink 60 mils in 10 minutes if you're really hungry.  This month has flown by and we can tell you're already so much bigger and stronger. Today you weighed in at a whopping 5 lbs 10 oz, piling on 1 1/2 lbs since you were born, you little star. You've outgrown a couple of your smallest clothes, and I'm already feeling sentimental about how quickly you are growing.

Another wise friend who endured the "pump-and-feed" routine with her twin daughters told me that the grueling schedule made her feel like she never got to hold her babies.  The truth of this statement was a real eye opener for me, and after that I made sure to fit in as much cuddle time with you as I can manage.  The sensation of your warm, soft weight melting into my arms whilst I breathe in deeply your divine newborn smell is one of the most sublime feelings in the world.

In the final entry of my pregnancy journal, I mused on the easy pregnancy and wondered when it might get hard and whether I can be really be this lucky.  I've bounced right back from the pregnancy and an easy delivery and, my darling, you are an absolute joy to care for.  So the answer is yes, yes I am this lucky.  I am so lucky I get to be your Mummy.

I love you with all my heart, my sweet baby girl,

Mummy

Katherine's Birth Story

In the Special Care Unit - 12 hours old

When last I wrote in my pregnancy journal, I was 34 weeks pregnant and feeling brilliant, looking forward to delivering the baby sometime, fingers crossed, just before Christmas.  So it was a bit of a shock to find myself in labor over a month early.

On Tuesday night (Nov 20, 35 weeks +1), D and I played our customary evening round of Wii Golf and I retired to bed.  Nothing unusual at all.

Except at about 12:30 am Wednesday, I woke suddenly to the feeling that I was wetting myself and jumped quickly out of bed to avoid a mess.  Bladder incontinence, though not something I had experienced myself, is not unheard of in late pregnancy.  I went to the bathroom and then realized that I was soaked to my knees.  Not having been able to pee more than a thimble-full in several months, I became concerned that my water had broken.  Sitting on the toilet, the fluid just kept coming and coming... and I started to panic.

I just sort of sat there moaning "oh, no, oh, no" and after a few moments, managed to weakly call D's name.  I heard him say from the other room "Are you okay, babe?"  He hadn't heard me call him, but just sensed something was wrong.

"I don't think so," I moaned.  "I woke up and I'm not sure if I wet myself or my waters have broke."

Thinking quickly, he jumped on Google and said, "Apparently if it smells like pee, it's pee, but if it smells of bleach its probably amniotic fluid."

I picked up my soaking PJ bottoms and sniffed deeply. "I can't smell anything."  Bless him, D did the same - with the same conclusion.

"It's still coming - this can't be pee."  I was shaking and cold now, and nearly in tears.  It was time to call the hospital.

The midwife I spoke to assured me it wasn't an emergency and that my baby should be fine.  I was told to gather my things and get to the hospital in my own good time.  D was a total star.  He had expressly told me (on the advice of our prenatal class) to pack a hospital bag the previous weekend... advice I had foolishly ignored... but he gamely gathered up all I needed whilst I directed the process from the porcelain throne.  And he managed say "I told you so" only once, which I took with the appropriate good humor, since he was totally right.

Eventually it was time to drive to the hospital... but I was still leaking profusely.  I stuffed a maternity pad and one of my baby's diapers into my knickers, sat a towel under my bum on the car seat and we headed off around 1:30 am.  Despite the precautions, when I arrived at the hospital, my clean PJ bottoms were soaking and I was walking like an 80-yr-old invalid just to avoid leaking a trail of fluid behind me.

I was examined by the triage midwife, who found me not dilated at all, which was unsurprising as I'd had no painful contractions.  Since the scan that was to determine whether I needed a c-section hadn't scheduled for another 6 days, they wanted to wait until the ultrasound tech came on duty at 10 am to decide whether I would be induced for a normal delivery or go straight to a c-section.  During my wait, I asked what to expect when delivering a baby at 35 weeks.  They said its lungs should be fine, but that it might need initially a breathing tube or a feeding tube because it was quite small, and might spend a couple of weeks in the special care unit.  Since there was nothing to do but wait, I sent D home to get some sleep and tried to do the same myself... still leaking like a, well, leaky thing.

At 10 am, I was scanned and they estimated the baby's size at 3 lbs 13 oz.  I was also cleared for a trial of delivery, as the baby's tiny head had managed to slip below the problematic fibroid.  They were going to induce labor.

Since I had been waiting for the results of the following week's scan regarding a c-section, I hadn't prepared myself for birth at all.  My birth plan had been: make a birth plan next week.  Oops, there was no help for it now.  At one point, I was asked if I wanted an epidural.  I told them I didn't not want an epidural, but that I'd see how things went.  I had no idea what my tolerance for pain might be, but I consider myself a bit of a wimp.

At 11 am, I called D and said he might want to consider coming back to the hospital as I was about to be induced.  Then I called him back and told him not to rush because I figured this would take a while.  I have a sister-in-law that was induced on a Thursday and had her baby on Sunday.  So I was prepared to settle in for a good long wait.

At noon, they started the IVs and noted that I was already dilated to 3 cm... so despite not feeling anything going on, apparently early labor had indeed started after my water broke.  Left alone in a darkened delivery suite, I watched a film on my laptop and dozed off and on.  I was checked on periodically, but always claimed that contractions which I could feel weren't yet painful.

Around 2:30 pm the contractions began strengthening.  While they weren't particularly comfortable, I don't remember them being very painful.  I asked the midwife when I should consider options for pain relief in case labor got all hurt-y.  She offered me gas-and-air (laughing gas and oxygen) which I began inhaling during the contractions, but never really went for it because I was worried that it might make me nauseous.  For the next 90 minutes or so, I simply needed three deep breaths to get through the contractions and I was relaxing in between.  The midwife had me laying on my side because it was difficult to monitor the fetal heart rate in other positions, but around 3 pm I asked if I could sit up on my knees in bed.  I just felt that needed to be done to move things along.  D arrived around that time and I warned him that I still thought it could be a while.

At 4 pm, I was checked and dilated to only 4 cm, confirming my theory that we were in for a long wait.  What I didn't know was they were about to jack up the induction drug.

At 4:30, I started to feel like I needed to poop.  Like really bad.  And I was concerned because I was hooked up to all these monitors and IV lines and how was I going to get to the bathroom.  The midwife went into overdrive preparing the room for delivery, and I was all "it can't be time yet, I was only 4 cm a little while ago!"

It all gets a little fuzzy for me here.  D told me that at some point the midwife hit the emergency button and an obstetrician and another midwife showed up.  At 4:45 I was told to lay on my back and start to push.  The transition from a comfortable first stage of labor to active pushing came very quickly and I was no more prepared for that than I had been for any of this.  Used to weight-lifting, where you must breathe out through the muscle contraction, I tried the same approach which was totally wrong.  The second midwife who was on my shoulder said, "Krysta, I need you to hold your breath and push like you are going to take the biggest poop of your life."

So I did.  I pushed so hard I saw stars.  And when I started to breathe again I was hyperventilating because I felt so deprived of oxygen I thought I was going to pass out or puke or both.  The next contraction came and I did it again.  It was all very sting-y and painful, and after about three of those I was seriously regretting that I hadn't had a chance to ask for an epidural.

I started to panic and moan about how I can't do this.  I really wanted someone to make it stop.  But the 2nd midwife told me what a great job I was doing and that I can do this.  So I did it again for another contraction.  Then the doctor told me they really needed to get the baby out and he wanted my consent for an episiotomy and forceps delivery, and I said "NONONONONONONO!"

The doctor explained that it wouldn't hurt the baby, and I was thinking "I know it won't hurt the baby, but fuck that, it's going to hurt me!"

So he got my consent for at least the episiotomy and told me I had to push with everything I had.  I didn't realize that he had pulled D aside and explained that it was really important to get the baby delivered pronto as its heart rate was dropping alamingly.  Two or three more contractions, giving it my all, and then they told me the head was delivered.  Another contraction and a gentler push and my baby was born.  I'd pushed for a total 15 minutes.

The baby started to cry.

It was the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

I asked "what did we have?" and they set her on my chest and said "take a look." I've never seen newborn bits before and hers were all swollen and confusing, so I said "I still can't tell" and D later told me he wasn't prepared to venture a guess and look foolish, so they said "you've had a baby girl!"

I looked up at D and said, "Look what we made!" and the look on his face, of pride and amazement, is one I'll treasure forever.

* * *

In my next post, I'll tell you how we're all doing now.