The Thoughts of a Frazzled Mother

It's been over a month since my last post and, while I've had many things I've wanted to write about (the struggles of breastfeeding, having to go back to work part-time and the emotional fallout of it, sleep), I haven't found a way to work out the time for it.

Usually, my baby-free time (naps, bedtime, Grandma babysitting) is spent trying to catch a nap, doing chores around the house, cooking, working, or running out to the grocery store (blissfully) alone. Sometimes, if KittyBaby has gone to bed at a decent hour (read: before 9pm), I may even have some time for a little videogame or some Netflix, but it's usually short-lived. I installed the Blogger app to my phone for this reason, then forgot about it for a month.

So, this is me, vowing to myself (since I have no readership), to write more.

You Only Have One Mother

I believe that's a common saying, right? "You only have one mother." Of course, to an extent, that is true. However, over the course of my life I have met many women who I categorize, in my head, as "Also My Mother". Yes, I have "one mother" and I love her dearly. We may not have always been as close as we are now, but she is my one and only. She was and always will be "Mommy" to me, even though she is now really "Grandma".

But, like I said, I have more than one "mother". This may sound weird to some people, I am well aware of that, but it's just how things work in my head. All of my friends who are moms, whether they are older than me or not, are "also my mom". They have all had different life experiences than I have, relating to motherhood or not, and so, they all have had or do have something to teach me. The mothers of the men and women I dated before I got married (whether I still keep in touch with them or not.. most of them not), they are "also my mom" for the same reason. My mother-in-law is "also my mom". Most importantly, they have all, in some way or another, helped shaped the person I am right this very moment, regardless of how short or long a time I have known them.

I can only hope to be as much of a mom as I feel they are. Because, they are not just moms to their children. They are moms to all children. Their hearts, their arms, and their homes are always open.

And, that's what I want to be. It may sound crazy and overwhelming to some, but it sounds perfect to me. I want my kid's friends to know that they will always have a place with us if they need it. I don't need to try and be a "cool mom". I just want to be "also a mom" to anyone who needs it.

I feel like, once you become a mom, you are a mom to everyone. You never just stop being a mom. The minute your first baby is born, that's it. You are "mom". I don't mean to say that you can't also be "wife" or just.. You. It's just that motherhood completely changes you. You have this tiny human to care for and protect. They can't fend for themselves, so you must. And that never stops. Yes, they become more capable and more independent as they grow, but that feeling will never go away.

It isn't like this is a huge revelation for me. I know my mother feels exactly this way about all four of her children. I just never really understood it until now.

On Being A Mother

With Mother's Day this weekend, I've been thinking about what it means to me to be a mother. I know I haven't been a mother for long, but, somehow, it's already not at all like I expected.

Sure, being a mother, especially in the early days, means getting no sleep to ensure your child is fed. It means taking a shower, only to get spit up or puked on, depending on how "productive" your child is in the vomit category. It means having to do an extra load of laundry because your child pooped through her clothes... And then all over the couch. And daddy. It means staying up all night because you want to make sure your child is still breathing. It means having that moment at two a.m., trying to comfort a seemingly inconsolable child, while saying "I don't know what the fuck you want.." while also crying. That last one just me? Oh, okay.

But, it occurred to me what else it means to me to be a mother. It's going in to check on your sleeping baby, only to find them quietly wide awake and giving you a big grin as soon as you come into view. It's rocking your baby, finally getting her to sleep, only to hear a tiny little sleepy giggle. It's that snuggle into your arms or your shoulder, because, to them, you are the safest place to be. It's the faces they make, perfectly fitting the situations, despite being made at random and not on purpose. It's the tiny hand, gripping the neck of your shirt when you try to put them back down. It is all of this and so much more.

At this very moment in time, that is what it means to me to be a mother. To be the comfort. To be the love. To be the protector. To be the teacher. The realization that, everything I do, is not for me, but for her. Every interaction she sees me have, every word I say, every action I take.. it's for her. I imagine that as KittyBaby gets older, my definition of being a mother will change, just as she does, but, for now, I'm content with this.

Mother's Day

So, Mother's Day. A day dedicated to mothers. Which has always been about my mother. As well as my grandmother and, later, my stepmother. Also, every four years, it is my birthday.

And, because I just have that kind of luck, my first Mother's Day is ALSO my birthday this year. I'm not sure if that makes it more or less weird. I still can't seem to wrap my head around the fact that, since I am now a mother, Mother's Day is for me too.

Maybe, when KittyBaby is older, it'll feel more "for me"? Though, I'm not sure how. I mean, so far, all I've done is make sure she doesn't die, but, some days that does feel like a serious accomplishment, despite her age of a mere seven weeks.

My first Mother's Day will consist of a nice barbeque at my mom's followed up with purple cake for my birthday. Because purple cake. And my mom knows what I like. I'll even put on a bra. However, I can't promise I won't wear more than a tank and a pair of KittyPapa's gym shorts. Mostly because it is suddenly hot as hell out and I'm not tolerating it too well.

So, Happy Mother's Day to all my mothers. :)

The Arrival of KittyBaby (Or, Induction Gone Shitty)

It's only been a month since KittyBaby was born already, but trying to find time to write up my labor/birth experience has been impossible. I originally started doing a sort of play-by-play on a subreddit I'm active on, but once things started to really ramp up, obviously that didn't continue and, unfortunately, almost everything between my epidural and us ending up in a recovery room is pretty hazy. But, I'll do my best. Also, fair warning, this will be long as this was a three day process. Aside from my immediate family and a few close friends, no one really knows anything about my experience. I'm mostly writing this in order to help myself process it a bit better, but also because, when I was still pregnant, reading about other women's experiences was helpful for me.

I had my 39 week appointment on Friday, March 20th with an ultrasound scheduled to check KittyBaby's growth because I'd been measuring ahead for at least a month or so by then. She looked fine, but it turns out my fluid levels were low. Given that I was full-term, the doctor decided (on what felt like a whim, even though I know it wasn't) to send me over to the hospital and set me up with an induction. It honestly took a full minute for what she said to sink in, but when she asked if we had to run home to get my bags (because why would I put our hospital bags in the car any time we left the house once I hit full-term? Idiot.), I realized what was happening. She offered to do a cervical check, but, to my serious disappointment, I was still high and closed. KittyPapa had been having some work issues that day, so I called my mom when we were on our way out of the office to ask her to meet me at home so she could drive me back to L&D while KP went to work to deal with some stuff.

I don't remember the exact time we made it to L&D, but I things started off with me getting an IV cath inserted. Unfortunately, since I'd barely eaten (I had a habit of waking up shortly before needing to leave to be somewhere, leaving no time for a meal, and I thought we'd be going home shortly after my appointment.) anything before this point, I ended up getting extremely nauseous and light-headed while the nurse tried to place it. I almost ended up puking and felt like I was going to pass out. Hurrah anxiety. Eventually, after drinking a ton of water, having some crackers, and slapping a cold washcloth on my neck/face, it was in and they took some blood samples. That was around 6pm. I believe, at that point, I'd been there for a couple of hours.

The midwife came in to do a cervical check, but I was still high and closed. She set me up with a bag of fluid, I was put on monitors (or was on monitors all ready at this point, I don't remember.), and told I'd be getting a cervical dose of Cytotec, which is a cervical ripener. I was informed it could take up to 48 hours to do anything, so I wasn't really sure what to expect. They also had some Zofran on deck for me, in case I started puking/getting nauseous again, but that ended up not being needed. Which is nice. I hate throwing up. They also told me I'd be getting a dose of D&B (which is something that starts with a D with Benadryl.. For the life of me, I can't remember the other half) to help me sleep.

Since I was being induced, I spent a good amount of time hooked up to monitors. I had two around my stomach, one to monitor baby's heart rate and one to monitor contractions. Can I tell you just how damn uncomfortable those things were? I'm not a small woman in the first place, but pregnant me? The monitors dug into me and, if I moved even the slightest bit, the one monitoring baby's heart rate would move and lose her. So frustrating, being stuck in a rather uncomfortable hospital bed and not even being able to adjust my position.

I'm going to interject here and mention that, while my sole goal was to have a birth that ended with a healthy baby and a healthy mama, my hope was to have as natural and as med-free a birth as possible. I wasn't excited about the induction, but still had hopes that things would go smoothly. Being frequently monitored, however, was not something I was pleased about.

I was still in bed around 7pm and they'd put these weird things (I don't even know if I caught the name of them) on my calves that inflated and deflated at regular intervals to help prevent clots since I was unable to move for so long. I had been started on a second bag of fluid, was still on the monitors and had another 10 minutes to go before they'd let me off. I hadn't been able to eat the entire time I was being monitored, but, since the hospital kitchen closed at 7pm, we'd ordered dinner and it was sitting there.. waiting for me. KittyPapa and my mom had already eaten, I really had to pee, but couldn't get up, and I was starting to get restless. At that point, I wasn't sure what else was in store for the rest of the night, but by 10pm, I'd be off the monitors for a bit, had eaten, gotten to the bathroom, and moved around the room a bit. The last two things were made slightly more difficult due to the fact that I was still hooked up to an IV stand. That sucked a lot. Then I had to get put back on the monitors, which brought a small bit of anxiety with it because the nurse struggled to find KittyBaby's heartbeat. That was the first time we'd had more than a minute or two of waiting before finding her heartbeat for the entire duration of the pregnancy, so you can imagine how my mind raced until they finally got her.

Half hour later, the mdwife came in for the next cervical check. I was already beginning to hate these. They were uncomfortable as fuck no matter what. And I'm pretty sure the one midwife who told me they'd be less painful when my cervix wasn't so high was full of shit. At the 10:30pm check, there was no change. Queue my disappointment. The midwife decided to start me on a 12 hour dose of Cervidil, which is like a weird tape/piece of ... plastic? that they insert into your vagina like a tampon. This required two hours of me in bed for monitoring. I think I got the D&B after the two hours of monitoring was done, but I don't remember and I didn't mention it elsewhere.

At midnight, I was taken off the monitors, got the IV taken off, and was able to move around some, pee, etc.  I may have slept, but, if I did, it wasn't restful and it wasn't a lot. I also don't remember when the contractions started, but I'm pretty sure it was earlier than I thought at the time, because I started having what I thought were cramps/just uncomfortable pain from being sat in bed pretty early on.

The next time I was put on the monitors, they offered to let me sit in the chair instead of in the bed, but they couldn't keep KB's heartbeat pinned down, so I was stuck back in bed and mostly laying down. Which sucked times one hundred because the contractions were mostly centered in my back and got worse when I was laying down. Like.. way worse. They weren't close together yet, but they were way stronger than I was expecting. I got put back on fluids at this point, but the monitoring was only for a half an hour at that point, so I was back up and out of bed for a while.

At noon, the midwife came in to remove the Cervidil and check my cervix again. Holy shit, I bawled. I had to be flat on my back, the contractions were strong, and it felt like a splintery two-by-four was being forcefully shoved into my vag. I cried so hard, the midwife angrily told me she wasn't even touching me and asked what was wrong. It just so happened, I was simultaneously having a contraction while she was doing her business down there. Fuck me, right? I believe, at this point, I was at least 1-2 cm dilated, but I can't remember. This is kind of when shit starts to get foggy. After that, they had to monitor KB's heartbeat through two contractions to make sure she wasn't being put into distress, but, with each contraction, they lost her heartbeat because I would move (because ow what the hell), so two contractions turned into at least five.

The midwife suggested I try getting into the jacuzzi bath for a bit to see if the jets/warm water would help. Spoiler, it didn't. In fact, I felt like it made it worse. I couldn't get comfortable in the tub, half of my body was out of the water, and I couldn't relax at all. I didn't feel comfortable moving around in the tub, so, that didn't last very long. Getting out was a task and a half because, every time I would move to try and get out, another contraction would hit aaaaaaaaaaand I couldn't move. I had thoughts about trying the birthing ball next, but I never got the opportunity. At this point, I was already fucking exhausted and wondering how the hell I was going to make it through the actual labor part.

At some point after all of this disaster, I was able to sleep a little. I was given two more doses of Cytotec, but opted to take them orally because fuck them if they thought I wanted anyone shoving their fingers up inside me again while I was actually having real contractions. Nope. No thanks. Each dose came with a half hour of in-bed monitoring and, now that the contractions were getting more serious, it was really fucking awful.

Around 6pm, I got up to use the bathroom and realized I was losing my mucus plug. Word of warning, this is actually pretty gross. They had originally wanted me to go walk up and down the halls of L&D a bit in an attempt to get more progression happening, but, since I'd lost my plug, that didn't happen. Which was fine. I felt gross after that and kinda just wanted to sit on the toilet forever. Because ew. My mom was due to visit soon and we were going to have dinner, so I was starting to feel a little more upbeat due to the now-obvious progression. The nurse on duty at the time of my plug loss was super excited and she ended up being my favorite nurse through-out my entire stay at the hospital.

That night, I got another dose of D&B as well as an Ambien (despite my apprehension because Jesus Christ, people do weird shit on Ambien and I'm in a hospital, in a gown that barely covers half of my backside.. what if I end up wandering the halls in a daze??) to help me sleep. It definitely helped me sleep and also helped me relax enough to let my body do its thing, because when I got up at one point to use the bathroom, my water broke. Paged the nurse, she swabbed the puddle on the floor (thank god, because I was still so tired of things in my vagina...), and CONFIRMED! Water broke.

I slept a bit more, but ended up requesting pain medication. I don't remember what the hell they gave me, but I suppose it helped a little bit. Unfortunately, it was not enough, because every second of monitoring was brutal. Back labor is probably one of the worst pains I've experienced in my life so far. Back labor contractions coupled with sitting statue still while on monitors is even worse. I finally broke down a requested an epidural. I was so dead set against it if I could do without it, but goddamnit, I really wish I'd requested it earlier. The main reason I was so against it was because I was flat-out terrified of having something placed in/near my spine. Like, I got twitchy just thinking about it. But, honestly, the numbing shot hurt more than the epidural and it was significantly less traumatizing than I had expected and it was relatively quick.

With the epidural came the catheter (which was another thing I was decidedly not excited about until I actually got it.. then it was great.), an internal heart monitor and an internal contractions monitor. And I felt none of it. Oh, it was great. I was kept on my back for a while, which was okay, then moved to my side, then the other. I ended up not being able to tolerate being on my right side for very long, which I blame on KB's positioning (she was pressed up against my right side for almost the entire pregnancy), so I spent a good portion of time on my left side. Then they wanted me back on my right side, but it was immediately uncomfortable and KB's heartbeat would dip. Tried to get me on my back. Still didn't help. Back to my left side. Nurses proceed to have a conversation between themselves about her heart rate dropping, then coming back up. Drops, comes back up. At this point, I'm not quite panicking because no one's really talking to me directly about what's happening, so I think it's still okay.

Midwife comes in to check my cervical progress and, WOOP WOOP, I'm 6 cm. But, KB's heart rate goes down and doesn't come back up, so I get an oxygen mask put on my face. I'm still thinking things aren't too bad. I'll get oxygen, her heart rate will come back up, we'll be fine and continue on, right? Wrong.

Next thing I know, they're pulling the call box off the wall, the room floods with people, the oxygen mask comes off, at some point my glasses disappear, and I'm quickly carted out of the room. Alone. No one tells KittyPapa what's happening and I later find out he was left alone, standing in the hallway, completely bewildered until one of the nurses noticed him and took him to the OR. He also called my mom up, freaking out that I was being taken to surgery.

As I'm being rolled into the OR, it was finally sinking in exactly what was happening, despite the fact that, still, no one had flat out told me what was going on. That's when I started getting real worried.. I had no idea if my baby was okay and I was alone, scared as fuck. Get into the OR, get transferred to the operating table, everyone's talking around me (and I have no idea what any of it means), the anesthesiologist talks to me, the doctor doing the surgery talks to me, and my IV arm is getting strapped to a board.

Someone comes over to my right side and does the "countdown": asks my name, date of birth, and what procedure they're about to do, to which I reply "Well, I guess I'm having a c-section..." That's when I started crying. This was not at even remotely close to what I wanted for myself. Yes, I was willing to do whatever I needed to do to end up with a healthy baby at the end, but this was major surgery. And it wasn't just me that was involved with it. I was beyond terrified. That's the last thing I remember, but also the thing I remember most clearly, before coming to afterwards.

After approximately 13 hours of actual labor between my water breaking and my c-section, KittyBaby was born at 2:56pm on Sunday, March 22, 2015, sharing a birthday with KittyPapa. She came in at 7 lbs 14 oz and 21.5 in long, with a crazy head full of hair. Which made me feel way better about the almost constant heartburn I'd dealt with for at least the entire second half of my pregnancy.

Immediately after coming out of the general anesthesia, they handed me my baby and wheeled us back to our room... which was a different, smaller room. KittyPapa and my mom were both waiting there for us. KP had been allowed into the OR after KB was out (but not before since I was under general and not local), so he had been able to see her immediately after she was checked out, which made me feel a lot better. Unfortunately, after he'd confirmed KB was okay, he looked over at me and caught me with all my insides on my outside... Whoops. Just glad he didn't take pictures. Gross.

I will admit to having a more than minor disconnect when they placed KB in my arms. Mostly because I'd gone from still pregnant, but in labor to "Here's a baby!" in what felt like seconds. It was pretty surreal to think that she was mine and was the same baby who had gestated inside of me for 9 months.

I was kept on the epidural for the rest of the day, which was both great and shitty. Great, because I felt very little pain, but shitty, because I couldn't do a damn thing with/for my daughter but feed her. They also had me on Pitocin to help my uterus contract back into the proper shape/size. Yuck. Since I couldn't get up, KP had to change all her diapers. KP was able to help with her first bath. I was able to do an hour of skin-to-skin with her immediately after we got into the recovery room, though, and I think that helped a lot in helping me come to the realization that, nope, this actually happened and now I have a tiny human. KP also did some skin-to-skin with her, too, which I was really happy about.

Eventually, I was informed about the cause of her heart rate decels. Apparently, once I started dilated (and I dilated quick), she descended really quickly and had the cord wrapped around her neck. She also had plans to enter the world facing it dead on, which was why I had such horrendous back labor. So, many reasons why the c-section had to be done.

Once the epidural and catheter came out, it took a little while for me to regain feeling from the waist down. And my first bathroom trip didn't actually involve the bathroom, but a commode thing next to the bed. Awkward. Also, incredibly uncomfortable. I had to wear the weird things on my calves for a while again, too, but, once I was up and somewhat mobile, those came off, too. Soon, I was able to shuffle around the room and sit in the chair, rather than just laying in bed. I wasn't too swift and I still wasn't really able to stand for very long.

The first night went okay. KB slept pretty well, but we had some minor issues with getting her to stay awake long enough to feed sufficiently, which really sucked. The second and third nights were not so great. We ended up asking the nurses to take her to the NICU (which is not something that normally happens; they are all about rooming-in) both of those nights because we just could not calm her down and she just cried and cried no matter what we did and neither of us could get any sleep. It was really demoralizing, especially when, after we sent her off the first time, she slept really well and the nurse essentially reprimanded us for not waking her up after 2 hours to eat again. Never mind that we'd only gotten about 1-2 hours of solid sleep while she was out of the room.

We also ended up getting a lot, and I mean a lot, of conflicting advice and information from various nurses and doctors and lactation consultants. It was really frustrating, especially towards the end. In addition to that, some of the nurses were not very attentive and would leave us alone for hours on end. Of course, it wasn't until our second to last day that we found out the nurse was supposed to check in every hour during the day and every two hours at night. However, the experiences and help we had with the good nurses definitely outweighed that of the bad ones.

We stayed in the hospital for a total of five and a half days, leaving Wednesday afternoon to go home. The first month of both recovery and learning about our newborn has been a rollercoaster ride for both myself and KittyPapa, but that's an entirely different subject for an entirely different series of posts.

If you've made it to the end of this incredibly long-winded essay, I appreciate it. Like I said at the start, this was mostly done as a cathartic exercise for myself, but also to share exactly what happened with the few people that were interested. I'd like to attempt to continue on with this whole slice-of-life blogging thing, but I'm not holding out a whole lot of hope. On the up-side, despite the emotions writing and reliving this experience has put me through, I can definitely say it helped. I'm still not sold on the idea of another child. At the onset, I definitely wanted more than one, maybe even more than two, but the induction and c-section experience has, unfortunately, kind of traumatized me. My pregnancy, on the whole, was incredibly smooth and, mostly, issue-free, but this was not. I know that doesn't mean my next potential birth experience will be anything like this one and, in fact, the doctor said I should be a good candidate for a VBAC, but the whole idea still terrifies me. Maybe six months from now, I'll feel differently, though. Who's to tell?