Conversations

Somehow, I'm not in the mood for detail. Me? I know, unbelievable.

I've written down the details of my conversation with my OB, and have decided though I want to share it, I also really do not. suffice it to say, next time, if there is a next time, I will be doing things somewhat differently. I look on Eve's birth with new appreciation, and will probably be sad over Israel's for some time--not just sad for Israel and myself, but sad for my doctor as well. He is a great doctor and I trust and respect him, and my dialog with him helped me to see I've been selfish and a bit reckless. Perhaps it is shame that makes me wish to keep this small event private. Goodness knows I share almost everything else, right? Perhaps too much.

I want to make it clear here that the doc was in no way attempting to cause me to feel guilty. It was a very respectful and constructive conversation.

As for my conversation with the Hospital Director, that was a much less memorable conversation, and a great deal less important. For one, it was mostly just an apology...which is nice but powerless. Nothing in our conversation will change me in the least, as I didn't need an apology to forgive. She did say those two nurses tend to be the worst offenders and that her goal is to "get to yes" with every mother. Her philosophy is pretty family friendly.

The policy of no "visitors" at shift change is due to HIPPA restrictions and no place for the nurses to congregate and speak privately and keep an eye on the babies at the same time.

There is no policy against parents being present when the IVs are placed.

She felt it was a communication issue, and felt very bad that I was caused so much distress by a couple of less sensitive nurses. I don't know that anything will change because of my letter, but the nurses will be spoken to. I guess that's enough.

The further adventures of Israel in the Nursery

If there was a way to change the font in the title there to make "Nursery" be in that halloween-y font, I'd be all over it. Come to think of it, there probably is, but I'm too lazy to spend that much time looking for something like that.

I really wanted to get this up yesterday, on International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Happy belated ITLAPD to ye anyway. ;)

So, due to what I felt was pretty awful treatment by the staff in the Nursery at the hospital, I wrote a letter. I'm usually a fairly...hmm, how shall I put this...I simply don't get real bent out of shape over things. However, I felt it was bad enough that something needed to be said. I got a call from the Director of the the Women and Children's care at the hospital yesterday in response to this letter. I'll tell you about that next time.

Dear Mr. Bosch,

I gave birth to my second child at the Harrison Medical Center in Silverdale, WA in the afternoon on August 14th, 2007. In my discharge papers, I received a card, signed by yourself, that states that “exceptional care” and “Service Excellence” are your priority at Harrison. I’m writing to give to you my thoughts on how well your hospital met my expectations.

I will begin by saying that the L&D nurse we had toward the end of my labor was truly excellent. Her name is Patti, and I was extremely pleased to have her be a part of my baby’s birth.

My baby needed extra care after birth because he did not begin to breathe on his own for around 5 minutes. Hospital policy required him to be transferred to the nursery. I did not get to hold my child until he was over an hour old.

It’s a well-documented fact that newborn babies and post-partum mothers fare better when they are not separated. At Harrison, knowledge of this fact is evident in the policies followed for healthy babies who need no special care or monitoring. I commend you and your staff for the general rooming-in policy you follow.

However, I’m deeply disappointed that the same policy is not followed for all babies at Harrison. By the time I reached the nursery, my son was merely being monitored, and did not need any artificial breathing support. It appeared to me that babies could be monitored from the in-room stations in which my child was initially cared for immediately after birth, leading me to believe that, at least in the case of my son, his presence in the nursery had more to do with the convenience of the neo-natal nurses than with his wellbeing. The very babies that could benefit most from close contact with their mother are denied that right. This doesn’t seem like baby-friendly care, let alone the best care.

I know that other hospitals in the area do all they can to keep mothers and babies together, even when the babies need extra care. Knowing that any baby with a truly serious condition is transferred to other area hospitals with NICUs, I would think with some extra effort to provide the “exceptional care” you promise, the need for a nursery at Harrison could be virtually eliminated.

Perhaps I would be less distressed by being physically separated from my son for the first 20 hours of his life had I found the nursery staff themselves and the nursery policies to be more mother/baby-friendly. Instead, I got the distinct impression that the nurses on duty the afternoon and evening of my son’s birth were more concerned with what they were doing than with who they were doing it for.

When I left the hospital, I took home a safe and healthy boy, so I assume the nurses were qualified and adept at the technical aspect of their jobs. However, they were completely lacking in compassion.

To begin with, I was only given about 40 minutes with my son before being told it was time for me to leave in order for them to give him an IV. We were given the impression that this would be a process that took an hour or so, however several hours later when my husband went to see his son with some visitors, he was denied entrance because they were still working on the IV. I am not a medical professional, but the IV placed during my labor took only a few minutes, why would it take several hours for my son? Additionally, the policy that parents not be allowed to be present when the IV is put in is unacceptable. Yes, it’s probably distressing to watch, but the baby does not belong to Harrison hospital, he belongs to his parents. That fact was completely ignored by the nurses on duty during my son’s first hours of life.

After finally being allowed back into the nursery after many hours and finding multiple poke-marks on my son, I was told to leave, again after less than an hour with my son. The nurses said he “needed a break” which is the silliest concept I’ve ever heard from the lips of someone who’s supposed to know about the needs of a newborn. My son needed to be skin to skin with me, since he wasn’t supposed to breastfeed, he needed to be held close to receive the benefits of Kangaroo care. But he wasn’t allowed to have me near him for any length of time.

I was told to come back in a few hours, specifically at 11:00 PM. When I arrived at that time, I was denied entrance because it was shift change and time for reports. Why should reports prohibit a mother from being with and caring for her baby? And why would I be told to return at the very time the nursery is “closed to visitors.” And when does a child’s mother count as a “visitor?”

The behavior of the nurses, and possibly the policies behind that behavior seemed cold and callous. If a mother is forced to be away from her newborn, she, not to mention the baby, deserves the utmost consideration and gentleness. It was devastating to me to not be able to initiate breastfeeding within the first hour of my baby’s life, a situation that the hospital staff had no control over. The inconsiderate behavior of the nurses and the policies that kept me physically separated from my child for nearly a full day added greatly to my distress during a vulnerable emotional time, causing me to withdraw from even family visitors and making simple tasks seem insurmountable.

Luckily, my baby is resilient, and I think we are well bonded despite our forced separation. Your facility implies you hold the mother/baby relationship in high regard. But this mother was only allowed to even be near her baby for a few hours out of the first day of his life, a situation his “condition” did not warrant. The responsibility for that rests in the hands of those who work and determine policy in the nursery. I did not find Harrison to be friendly in that regard.

I’m disappointed that though I can praise my Obstetrician, your L&D department, and even my post-partum nurses for providing excellent care and consideration, I cannot praise the nursery staff for the same thing. I take pride in Kitsap County and love to support local businesses and facilities. I am sad to say that I do not believe I can continue to do so with Harrison. If another child is in our family’s future, I will likely be traveling to Seattle or Jefferson County in order to give birth in a location where I know my and my baby’s needs will be given more consideration, and where I can expect true mother/baby friendliness even in the face of difficulties.

Sincerely,

me

I'm a slacker

I admit it. I even slack on my slacking. Here's the thing, there's just so much to do during my "free time" that I simply can't keep up. I'm actually reading a novel. And you know how that can get--I'll just finish this page...uh, section...uh, chapter...and then I'll do the dishes (or, thank you cards :)) and all of a sudden, I'm halfway through the next chapter. So I chose not to even pick it up today. But having neglected my email and blogs and whatnot, I think I'm running short on time now anyway. So we'll just see how far we get.

I am going to just stick to the birth story in this post, and probably post later today (I hope) on family updates and that long forgotten subject I was so fond of before Israel...discipline, specifically of the toddler variety.

So, last time, I left myself laboring on the bed.

It was as I was staring at the mattress during or between a contraction that I had some, well, not very natural birthy thoughts. I thought...maybe I could just ask for a c-section...and, I bet the fact that I really feel like asking for drugs right now means that it's too late to get them anyway. I am pretty sure I kept these thoughts to myself. I never really wanted the drugs, because I kept telling myself that it's not as bad as it could possibly get. I'd only want drugs if it got the worst it was going to get...but I knew I didn't want drugs, period. Does any of that even make sense? The c-section on the other hand? Well, now that I've witnessed Tom's post-op discomfort from arthroscopic hip surgery, I'm pretty sure major abdominal surgery recovery is way more than I want to endure, pain-wise. But I was so concerned (that is, ahem, frightened) about a repeat of the pain I'd had from recovering from the episiotomy I'd had when Eve was born (and rightly so) that I genuinely thought I'd rather have a c-section. At least, that's what the irrational, emotional side of me wanted. The rational side who wrote my birth plan and went in to natural birth with eye's wide open, of course said, no, which is why I remained silent.

I took a potty break and had to endure a double peaking contraction with no one putting counter pressure on my back. That was kind of a tough one.

When I came back out I switched to the birth ball.



and labored there until I started to feel pushy...not full blown pushing, just a little at the peak of each contraction. At that point, there was enough pressure, that I had to stand up off the ball during contractions.

In between I would relax...totally. Good thing Ashia was behind me. :)



grrr...hated those straps.

Here's an interesting shot...you can see the shape of the baby on the lower left (your right) of my belly. Weird.



Transition was kind of, well, a blur. I don't remember anything really distinct about it. I had a general feeling of being sick...but not really intense, not like I was going to throw up at any moment or anything. And then I was sort of all of a sudden feeling that pushy at the peak feeling I mentioned.

Here's my awesome doctor checking up on me. He did chastise me a teensy bit for not coming in over the possibly broken water concern, but that just meant no checking, which was fine. He came in once early in order to officially admit me, but after I was on the ball, and then when I was feeling pushy. I'm pretty sure that's a picture of that second visit, he stayed. Everything seemed to happen quickly. That's really a good thing as far as I'm concerned.



So the first and only time I was checked was by my doc and at the point where I felt like pushing. All I had to do was roll forward on the ball...no forcing me back into the bed or anything awful like that.

My water broke as I was being checked. The doc told me not to push for the next few contractions because I was a very...I think he used the word floppy...9...but the very next contraction after my water broke was so intense, and I had such an overwhelming urge to push, that through the next two contractions I kind of screamed (more than kind of, I think) "I'm trying not to push! I can't help it!" at which point I would groan trying not to push but pushing anyway. After the second contraction like that, the doctor told me to relax and not worry about it and just push when I felt like it.

What a relief!

So, Kim saw that I wasn't comfortable during contractions on the ball, and since I was pushing they kind of asked what I wanted to do. I was pretty out of it, as far as conversation goes, so I just repeated that I didn't care as long as I didn't have to lay down.

Kim asked the doc if it was okay if I labored on the birth stool, and he was cool with it (isn't that awesome?! I told you!) as long as I turned around so he had room to get to me. So, between contractions, I turned and was switched, and at this point had a new nurse named Patti--who was totally great for all the reasons Mary was not. She was just what I needed, quiet and patient and encouraging.

I don't think I pushed very long, I think it was very few contractions, but the specifics like how many pushing contractions I had, or how many were on the birth stool are fuzzy.

The doctor was patient and quiet, and the baby's heart rate stayed great the whole time, unlike Eve, which at the time I thought meant we were golden.

I now know I never got to the really painful crowning part of pushing with Eve. They vacuumed her out as she was just beginning to crown. My memories of pushing with Eve is that it was a welcome relief after the intense, right-on-top-of-another contractions of transition.

This time around, I was really surprised by the pain. It was so much worse than I expected, and seemed to last so much longer. I guess I was expecting it only to be painful right before the head came all the way out. I was wrong. It hurt from the moment the baby started to crown and only felt better after the head was out. I know I said, "I don't know why I liked this part so much before." and, "This really hurts" and other such exclamations of surprise.

Kim made sure I touched the baby's head once just as he was beginning to crown. It was an important thing to me as I was planning for the birth, but when I was right there in it, I really didn't want to do it. Not so much because I didn't want to touch his head, but because it was a lot more comfortable to simply leave my hands where they were, bracing me and keeping me upright. Kim was firm though. :)

After I got his head more than half out, I had to keep pushing to get his chin out, at which point things got...less smooth.

The doctor was, again, very patient, but very firm in his instructions to me. The cord was very tight around Israel's neck, and the doc couldn't unloop it because it was too short. So, he cut the cord while baby was still mostly inside, and then he had me push, I think when I wasn't having a contraction, in order to get the baby all the way out. Israel paused kind of at his middle, and then slid out into the doctor's arms.

Did I mention that the doctor was on the floor in front of me? Yeah, he spread out some pads and pulled his table over and sat on the floor in front of the stool.



That shot is during crowning.

So, there's baby in the doc's lap, and he's suctioning baby and trying to stimulate him and I notice a few things:

Israel looks huge and his body is blue and his head is purple. And, he's really floppy.

I was feeling really great about how all of labor and delivery went, and kind of waiting to see what would happen, but I think I knew right away I wasn't going to have the baby handed to me. I think part of it was I couldn't just have him set on me, I was sitting upright completely, not reclining, and no where to recline to. This went through my head as I recalled my conversation with the doctor in which he said unless the baby was in really rough shape, and not at all responsive, he would give mom the baby and do what needed doing right there. But after half a minute or so during which I encouraged Israel, the doc struggled to stand up with the rolling cart beside him and the baby in his arms.

Israel was whisked away to the crash cart just as Eve had been, except Eve had been pink and crying.

You already know that the end of the story is a healthy little boy, but it was pretty scary at the time. I knew that if this doc took the baby, it was serious.

Tom says it took Israel 5 minutes to begin breathing on his own. So I figure it was at least 7 minutes from the time his cord was cut.



It was pretty awful as they transferred me to the bed to not hear my baby cry. I kept waiting for it, but it never came. And I did start to flip out and cry. It never really entered my mind that he wouldn't live, but I was pretty concerned that he would have brain damage, and just really upset that I couldn't hold him and bond with him and see him.

Tom, on the other hand, as he watched them bag him so his little chest would inflate and deflate, kept expecting the doc to turn to him and say, "I'm sorry." Poor Tom. No wonder he tells me he doesn't want to be in the labor and delivery room. And no wonder he says I have a lot of work to do to convince him to have another. I'll leave that in God's hands, because it will be quite a while before I'm ready for another anyway, and God can change Tom's heart and mind--I really don't have that kind of power.

After about 10 minutes they felt Israel was stable enough to move to the nursery, Tom held him up to me so I could see him and touch his face. It was so hard to just lay there as they took him away.



In my preparation for birth, and in all my prayers for specifics of the birth to go well, I did always ask that Israel come safely and healthy, but it never really entered my mind that his situation could be worse than Eve's. I just assumed he'd be okay, and with his heart rate so good the whole time (even after the cord was cut) I couldn't imagine there'd be anything that would keep him from being in my arms right away. I suppose that will be a big topic of my preparation and prayers for number 3 (if that happens).

In the end, he was safe and healthy. Both my doctor and the baby's doctor told me that all his stats were great, blood oxygen level and heart rate included, he just wouldn't breath.

I think that's more than enough for one post. Stay tuned for post-baby details.

Another installment, but not the finale

So, Today was most certainly Peanut's roughest day. He actually cried because he was hungry. Except when I've deliberately put him off (I know, bad mama!) he's never cried when he's hungry. Today it seemed like he cried every darn time he wanted to nurse. I guess I didn't realize I was missing his early signals. I don't think I was that busy today.

I also finished writing the complaint letter to the hospital. I hope it comes across as reasonable rather than over-the-top dramatic and that it's not written off as just the result of postpartum emotionalism.

Complaint letter? Oh yeah. We'll get to that. That is kind of post-birth so we'll talk about that later.

Tom's doing well. He's expiramenting with not being on the meds constantly. This is giving him some painful moments, but it's definitely helped him get up a bit more and move around since he's not so light-headed and sleepy.

More labor story...

So the car ride wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. When I was in labor with Eve Tom packed some towels onto the front seat and I sat up there like I always would, but it was excruciatingly painful. One of my friends has shared with me that having been through labor, she now knows it's going to be pretty tough and has aprehension about it. Not me, I felt confident I could do it, and felt more like "bring it on--except the car ride." It's only a 10 minute drive or so from home to the hospital, and the first time around, it was one of the worst 10 minutes of my life.

This time, Kim rode with us, and her and I were stashed in the back among the luggage, me on a pile of blankets, and Kim rubbing my back during contractions. There was a great air vent right up by my face, which was soooo welcome. I hardly wanted to get out, quite honestly.

Based on some recorded times from Kim's notes on the labor, I think we got to the hospital right around 1 P.M.



If only there were some flattering pictures of me at this point in pregnancy. Anyway. Notice the orange skirt...and the orange drink in that water bottle! It was watered down Tang, and I drank quite a bit of it during labor. I've never been a big Tang fan, but it seemed like a good idea to drink something besides water to keep my electrolytes up as well as my energy. Now I've decided Tang's not so bad.



I'm all about fixing up those triceps....



There is where all the magic happens. ;-)

I started out having to fight with the Labor and Delivery nurse, Mary. Not my favorite person in the world. I wasn't sure what it was I didn't like about her. She was too perky, and a little condescending--treating me like a child rather than an adult. I know some people like that from a nurse, but I really only want my mom to treat me like that, and then only when I'm ill. Labor is not illness. And the perkiness, well, I like perky waitresses. A loud and overly cheerful person who's forcing Electronic Fetal Monitoring on me while I suffer bouts of intense pain is just not welcome. After a discussion with a friend who's also had this nurse during labor, she clarified for me a better explanation for why Mary bugged me. She is just plain fake. So...altogether, I wasn't happy with this nurse. However, I'm sure it could have been worse. I could have arrived much earlier in labor, or the old policy of the nurse checking dilation could have been in effect. Thank God for small blessings.

I labored first on the bed, with the back raised as high as it would go, on my hands and knees using the head of the bed for support.

I am, again, running short on time, so this will have to do. More later!

Pre-Op day and other things...

It's cold. Or rather, I'm cold. It's 73 in here. So is it all in my head? Does the cloudy sky simply make me think it's cold? Maybe it's knowing that in order to warm it up inside on demand we have to build a fire? Maybe it's the weight loss? ;) Or maybe I'm coming down with something (I think that a lot, just ask Tom). Just in case, I'm all Zicam-ed up and am drinking white tea with raw honey. Between that and the quadruple dose of probiotics I've been on since the naturopath visit, I shouldn't be able to get sick. Right? Let us hope.

Tom gets to have surgery tomorrow. So we have to commute at 0-dark-thirty in the morning over to Seattle. This should be the last surgery, and it should fix him all up. I sure hope it does. I want my husband to be able to enjoy his life a bit more than he has been lately. Don't get me wrong, he's been wonderfully chin-up about the whole thing, but no one can live with constant pain and not have it bring them down a bit.

Eve's napping. And for a change, I don't care how long her nap lasts. She's sleeping over at Grandma's!! Yay! That will make tomorrow morning so much easier. And it will be our first night without her here with us since the hospital visit.

Speaking of which, you're not here to hear about my hypochondria or Tom, right? You want birth story. And pictures.



Last time...

we went to sleep. And we didn't wake up until Tom's alarm went off. Talk about a let down. Especially for Tom, since we'd stayed up until like one in the morning, and now he had to get up at 7 to go to work.

I got up with him, and so did Eve and we just kinda sat around with nothing exciting happening.

I saw Tom out the door just before 8, and then visited the restroom. Men, if you don't want to know, close your eyes now and move on to the next paragraph. So, there was blood on the paper. Yay! Bloody show.

Shortly after, as in like, 10 minutes, I felt what was definitely a real contraction. It's funny how you just know. Of course, with bloody show, there's no going back, so there wasn't a question in my mind anyway.

I called Tom, I called Kim, I called Ashia.

Tom didn't believe me and told me unhappily to call him when I could say with more certainty that he needed to be home before his work day was over.

Kim was excited, and told me to keep her posted and that she would come when I was ready for her.

Ashia wasn't feeling real well. :( But, it was good timing day-wise because her husband was home to stay with the kids.

Then I took Eve for a walk. She wanted to be in the stroller, and it was a beautiful, sunny, warm morning. We walked to one end of the road, and while walking I called my mom and dad to let them know what was up. I also called my friends Tanna and Bridget. Then we walked to the other end of the road, and while I walked, I timed the contractions, which were coming roughly 3 minutes apart and lasting for 40 seconds or so. At the other end of the road there was a nice black berry patch, so I picked berries for Eve and had a few myself and called Tom to let him know he should come home, because the contractions were getting longer, stronger and closer together. It was close to 10 A.M.

We walked back home and Tom and his dad showed up just after we walked in the door. Eve would be going with Poppy for the day, since Grandma was busy with Cousin Hunter who had his own hospital trip to deal with.

I called Kim to let her know things were moving along and to come when she could, and then I hopped in the shower.

It's funny, I didn't really plan to wear my own clothes to labor in at the hospital, but that's what ended up happening, and my short orange (who would have thought I'd unwittingly take the chiropractor's advice?!) cotton jersey skirt and sleeveless white top were probably the most perfect things I could have chosen for comfort and utility. The skirt might have been better had it been a wrap skirt, but otherwise it was great. And orange! :)

When Kim arrived, we went for another walk. I had to stop walking when contractions came at this point, but they were still very manageable.

Back at home, I sat on an exercise ball in the kitchen for a very long time. Kim timed the contractions on her phone. We noticed that they sometimes were farther apart and sometimes shorter, but forward progress was definitely still being made.

I kind of wonder how Kim was feeling at this point. I know she was excited, but I wonder if she was scared too. At that point, I was just excited. I definitely had a few moments of...well, second thoughts, let's say, later on, but at this point, things were going really well.

I got quite a few calls while in the kitchen laboring. One from my mom who had called the hospital, who of course, hadn't heard from nor seen us. My mom kind of flipped out, not understanding why I wouldn't want to get to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible. You see, my mom LOVED her hospital births. She just thought the nurses were great, loved the free hospital food, and getting to kick her feet up and not have to do anything.

Me? My stay in the hospital with Eve was sheer torture. I couldn't stand the nurse visits. The nurses themselves were okay, but when they arrive at 4 AM to undress your peacefully sleeping baby, thereby making her cry, they really seemed to be trying to make themselves my enemy.

Plus, I knew the longer I labored at the hospital, the longer I'd have to endure the electronic fetal monitor straps, more torture! And I would be somewhat at the mercy of the staff. So, the longer I could stay home, the better.

Kim and Tom teased the cat with toys and a laser pointer and we moved to the living room, where I had to kneel on a crib pad. Tom was terrified of my water breaking in the bed or on the carpet or in the car. Heh.

It was in the living room that I decided the contractions were getting strong enough that I didn't want to take a ride in the car if they were much stronger. Out the window went my intention to try to stay home until my water broke.

We called Ashia to have to start making her way to the hospital and packed up the car.

I had a few very concrete goals for this labor and delivery: Stay upright as much as possible during labor. Stay positive. And finally, don't give birth while on my back. Stay tuned to see if it all works out.

A snippet of birth story...

So, because I know I won't get a chance to write out the whole birth story of Peanut in one sitting, I'm going to do it in installments instead. Eventually I hope to add pictures (don't worry, nothing too over the top), but I don't actually have the pictures as this point (digitally) so you'll have to wait. :)

So, anyway...

As the weekend drew to a close, and my due date was dwindling into the past, I began to get antsy to have the baby. I still didn't want to rush it, but I was remembering that with Eve, my membranes had been stripped, I was walking a lot, eating a ton of spicy food, and then visited the chiropractor the night I went into true labor. I was also remembering that I had that prodomal labor the entire day before real labor began, and a few other physical signs that the guy's in the audience probably don't want to hear about.

These recollections resulted in some concern on my part...what if it was all those things that were done to me and that I did that made me go into labor? What if I couldn't go into labor without those things? And, since I could now see in hindsight that that prodomal labor was the immediate precursor to true labor, I figured that I'd have to experience that (and plug loss, ahem) some time before true labor would begin. Since all was quiet, I knew I wasn't too close.

I went to the Chiropractor on Monday, the 13th. This gal is not the chiro that put me in to labor with Eve. He's retired. Kinda bummed. She was a bit...um...less medical and more hocus-pocus than I generally like, so I probably won't see her regularly, plus, I like manual adjustments...she just used some kind of pressure snapping thingy. She did give me a nice little massage though.

She ended our session advising me to put some orange in my life (rolls eyes) and suggested I wear any orange clothing I owned and told Eve to color me an orange picture. Free color therapy! As I left, her assistant said she guarantees 24 hours (with a laugh). I laughed too, although I didn't think it was very funny.

(I just want to break in here and say that I still haven't finished Peanut's embroidery, and have a stack of unwritten thank you cards and two baskets of laundry to fold. See how I sacrifice for you?)

Nothing too interesting happened after that. My whole drive home was rife with anticipation though. When Tom got home, we went out on the boat and played in the water a bit. Eve got to have her first tube ride (Tom went extremely slow and I was in another tube right next to Eve). I enjoyed the tube because I could actually lay on my tummy! Plus, it was nice to cool down.

And then we had a bit of a scare. I was not in labor, but was concerned that my water may have broken and was on a slow trickle. It was fairly late, and I didn't want to rush to the hospital for nothing. It was my very deep desire not to raise any alarms unnecessarily, so that unnecessary interventions wouldn't follow. As it got later and to be Eve's bed time, we finally decided not to go in to the hospital. The trickle had slowed, and some contractions brought on by a late-night walk with Tom and Eve in the stroller didn't cause any gushing. Plus, I figured I could just as easily go in the morning if I needed to, as it would only be 12 hours and 24 hours is usually when I've heard they get concerned about the water being broken too long.

We watched the Green Mile, which I had sworn would not be the Labor Movie this time around. It turns out to have been...although I wasn't really in labor, exactly. It wasn't as sad or unpleasant a movie as I thought it would be, though it did make me cry. But so did lots of other things during pregnancy, so that doesn't really prove much.

And then we went to sleep.

Tune in next time for more story, and some actual labor action!

O.F.P.

Stands for Optimal Fetal Positioning...

Last night, I read a little book written for midwives (no friendly layman's terms here--thanks to Dictionary.com, I learned what multigravida means) about the best position for a baby to be in in order to have the least painful, quickest, and safest (i.e. least likely to result in a medical intervention) birth possible. The nice thing about the book was it's very small size. I'll spare you the technical terms (since I certainly don't have them memorized) and just tell you that it's head down (duh) and baby's back against mom's front left side (centered between bellybutton and left hip)

A professional can tell by palpitation of your uterus what position your baby is in, but if you want a clue, you're hoping for the heartbeat to be heard on the lower left of your bump, so if your doc (or other care provider) puts the little Doppler microphone up high or on the right (and finds the heartbeat he or she is looking for), you may wish to try changing your baby's position. Also, If you feel a lot of movement up front, (or, I would assume, on your left) your baby is probably not optimally positioned. There was also some detailed information about the shape of your bump, and I get the feeling the cute, basketball-under-your-shirt look is what you're going for. Flat on top or in front indicates a less than ideal position.

When do you need to worry about this? Around the time your baby "engages" (which means lowers himself (or herself) into your pelvis in preparation for being born) This can happen as early as 6 weeks before birth, especially for first-timers. It can happen as late as when labor begins for those who have been there, done that. However, since the positions and activities for achieving OFP aren't all that difficult, it seems like a good idea to begin thinking about this around the 34 week mark, especially if your goal is a natural, intervention-free birth at a hospital, as much of the time, you are on your own as how to actually accomplish such an anomaly.

The bad news: A lot of what you may be doing each day could be contributing to poor positioning. lounging (leaning back past 90 degrees) on the cough or in the Lazy boy while you nourish your baby with high-calcium, high-protein snacks such as Haagandaz bars and bowls of ice cream (oh wait, that's just me?), abdominal exercises, and even squatting pre-labor can contribute to poor positioning. There's also lying and sleeping on your back--but most mainstream pregnancy guides advise against this already. As a good rule-follower, I'm sure you aren't doing this, but I am. Every morning (and every time I wake in the night) I find myself on my back, despite having diligently positioned myself on my left side the last time I fell asleep.

I've been lounging...well, whenever I relax, since childhood, and I find myself wishing to relax more and more as pregnancy progresses. Just a few weeks ago, I patted myself on the back for borrowing (and exercising to) a prenatal exercise DVD that includes quite a lot of squatting and abdominal contractions (basically pulling in your abs, since sit-ups aren't advised during pregnancy).

Lounging (and lying or sleeping on your back) is bad because gravity works to swing your baby's back against yours. If your baby remains in this position, you will have painful back labor at the very least, and the babe may get stuck when trying to exit through your pelvis. Differing angles cause sizes and shapes of baby's head and your pelvis to not match up in this position.

Ab work (or previously well-toned abs that have retained their tautness) is (are) a no-no because they tend to narrow the lower part of the uterus (the uterus itself is not exercised or changed by ab work, but rather the area the uterus resides in shrinks) which will discourage a baby from placing his head down...since his feet fit much better there.

I'm not quite so clear on why squats are a bad idea--and I know for sure they're a good idea during labor. But, it has something to do with the angle of the spine to the pelvis. Modified squats (wall squats, that keep your back straight and at a 90 degree angle to your pelvis) are okay. Did I mention this book, though blessedly short, was rather hard to read? Hence, my lack of full understanding regarding the "why" of this particular point.

All of this might explain why Peanut was head-down 2 weeks ago, and at my appointment this past Monday had decided to be head-up instead. Of course, even though he was head down last time, his heart beat was still on the right... so that's better than breach, but not great.

Lessons?

Sit leaning forward, or at the very least, straight up and down. Easier to do if you scoot all the way to the edge of the couch or chair and place your feet at least hip-distance apart. Or, kneel, lean forward, and support yourself with something (like a Pilates ball) above waist-height.

Don't do ab work. :( I guess I'll just have to wait until postpartum to firm up.

Do wall squats or climb stairs to keep those thigh muscles strong enough for upright positions in labor. Don't do regular deep squatting (squats that keep your rear higher than your knees are okay).

And...as you've heard time and again, don't lay or sleep on your back. Instead, choose your left side, legs comfortably bent, with your top knee crossed over the bottom one and resting on the mattress. Or, if you can afford the luxury, and desperately miss sleeping on your stomach, as I do, buy a Baby Wink pillow.

Bait and switch

I know, last time I promised I would post something funny, or crafty or give updated pictures. Sorry!

I'm just gonna catch you all up on the latest.

God's been providing in amazing ways for us financially (and otherwise) during my husband's surgery recovery. Tom's back to work now, and I'm struggling to curb my reaction to buy everything I couldn't buy on the "No discretionary spending, period." Budget. You know the one, where if it costs money, you can't have it, even if it's almost, nearly free? or name-brand and 95% off? Not even if it's an emergency? (define emergency? can you LIVE without it? Yes? Not an emergency.) Yeah, that one. Keeping myself from wild spending is especially difficult considering I have 7 weeks to my due date, and maternity leave that may or may not end. If it does end, it will merely be to get us onto the "so little discretionary income that you might as well not do any discretionary spending." Budget. (under which, you can get the emergency items, like when Eve doesn't have any pants that fit, or when I run out of prenatal vitamins. Or when I really, really need ice cream--but hopefully after the baby arrives, I'll stop having those kind of cravings) The baby still needs a bed, and my wists, del.icio.us bookmarks, and Amazon wish list are filled with items for Peanut, Eve, and myself that seem like rather reasonable wants, if not outright needs. I'd also love to upgrade our Netflix from 2 a month to 1-at-a-time unlimited, oh! The luxury. And what I wouldn't give for a cute, comfortable pair of black boot-cut yoga pants for postpartum lounging, instead of the oh-so-lovely sweats I'm sure I'll be in.

I'm not sure I was genetically designed for frugal living, but I've been doing it now to one degree or another since my first pregnancy. And actually, I find myself no less happy (if not more so) than when I could go shopping for myself(!!!) at the drop of a hat. I'll even go so far as to say I've noticed no real increase in unfulfilled purchasing desires--my unfulfilled purchasing desires have changed drastically, so much of what was on the list 4 years ago wouldn't even make my "large amounts of discretionary income" Budget these days. Because, really, who has time or energy to go shoe shopping at Nordstrom every few months? Shopping for myself has become torture, so I just don't want to do it.

Speaking of shoe shopping, I bought new shoes! I really wanted a fun red pair that would "spice up" my boring maternity wardrobe and make me feel a little more cheerful when I'm still wearing this stuff at too-many-weeks postpartum. I ended up with a nice light-ish brown pair of fashion sneakers. They didn't have the pink and brown ones in my size, and I couldn't just not buy anything, since I was using a gift certificate, and Tom had come along to keep Eve happy. It would have been a terrible slap in his face for me to go home empty handed after he worked so hard to keep Eve out of my way for the forever it took me to find something even reasonably cute and comfy.

And speaking of Tom, after his knee surgeon released him for work, the surgeon's assistant who's been working with Tom on his hip and back (diagnosing if there's an indication for surgery or not) told him he needs another MRI on his hip with likely surgery there as well, if they find what they think they will on the MRI. I just hope that he's either fully recovered from this second surgery by the time I go into labor, or he doesn't have surgery until a few weeks after the baby arrives. All the more reason, I suppose, for me to save instead of spend. This working stint of Tom's may be short-lived. Just imagine the cool stuff God will have to do to continue to provide for us if both Tom and I are off work at the same time! Exciting times, I tell you.

Eve. She's swung a bit from the bratty and clingy to the sweet and sassy. She's frequently told me that she loves me, with no prompting and without my having it said it first. That just melts my heart. That, coupled with spontaneous hugs and kisses, and how can I complain about a few instances of defiance or tantrums when my little girl loves me? I can't. And, having only spent a few days trying to puzzle things out, I have discovered that Eve is much more likely to be grumpy, clingy and disobedient when tired (duh) or hungry (hmmm). One would think that an hour after breakfast, there would be no immediate, emergent need for sustenance, but when one recalls that someone has only consumed the thin layer of cream cheese from the top of half a bagel, complimented by two small bites of said bagel, it becomes a bit more clear that a snack is required.

Eve Got to take a small zip-lock bag filled with raisins, Cheerios, and Honey Bee Grahams in the car on the way to church this past Sunday, and then into Nursery with her, and reportedly (since I gave Tom the ultimatum that if he could descend and climb the stairs at home, he could descend and climb the nursery stairs at church just as well, and that, as such, I would no longer take Eve to nursery. Ever.) she went easily and without complaint. And several times over the weekend, food solved whatever ills were causing her to whine and cling desperately. I've decided that's one important key to keeping her compliant and cheerful, or at least making those behaviors somewhat more likely.

Potty training is basically dead with us. She hasn't willingly gone except right before bedtime to prolong her right to remain out of bed for as long as possible. We have, though, wasted several hours waiting for her to go when Tom is sure she will go as soon as we put a diaper back on her. This usually follows us hearing Eve shut her bedroom door, only to check on her and find her hiding at the far end of her bunk bed and yelling at us to go out--a sure sign she's about to fill her diaper with an odiferous surprise. It's just as well, as the imminent arrival of Peanut will no doubt reverse any progress we make in the next 7 weeks.

Sleeping is going fairly well. For Eve that is. I won't even start on how torturous both Tom and I are finding night time these days (I, due to Peanut, and he due to the re-institution of Vicodin as a night-cap, since working is much more painful for Tom than simply watching Eve during the day). Eve sleeps until 5 or 6 in the morning very consistently these days (and sometimes much later), and joins us in our bed until 7 or 8, depending on the day. She is also going to sleep more easily and quickly. This may be due to the horrid make-shift light-blocking sheets and table clothes we've hung up (I will take a picture, but it may be years before I upload it), or it may be due to the fact that we've been putting her to bed later because of social obligations or mere absentmindedness (on my part). Or it may be a combo. I definitely credit her sleeping in the morning to the light-blocking, but since the days continue to grow longer, and it's light until 10 or so each night now, her room is still fairly bright at bedtime (8:00 PM if we get it done on time). My spending impulse is rearing its ugly head every time I look at what I've done to those windows. Oh for the ease and appearance of some actual curtains.

Despite the improvement in discipline, and my commitment not to go hog-wild with my husband's bigger paychecks (which admittedly haven't yet started rolling in) I did take the opportunity today to buy a few discipline books off Amazon when I made my required prenatal vitamin purchase. Combining shipping, you know. If any of you have read Grace-Based Parenting or Heartfelt Discipline please let me know what you think of them. I should be getting them in the mail just in time to read a few chapters before Peanut arrives. ;)

Ooh, and speaking of reading, from the library (which is stocked in a rather friendly manner toward natural childbirth, at least when compared to Christian parenting) I've been enjoying Ina May's Guide to Childbirth and Creating your Birth Plan. Both are very informative, although I'm definitely getting more out of the Birth Plan book at the moment, as I'm still in the mother-written birth stories section of Ina May's book. I don't mind the birth stories, but I am rather particular about writing style, and have never enjoyed birth stories more than those written by Peggy Vincent in Baby Catcher. If you are at all interested in birth stories, or natural birth, I highly recommend this book.

So there you go, all caught up.

Oh! I almost forgot. My latest online addiction (must get in as much as I can before I'm tied to a chair and a breastfeeding baby for hours and hours and... hours and....) is Sk*rt! a new Digg-esque social news site for women. I find endless ways to distract and entertain myself, and I've added at least a dozen new and interesting blogs to my Bloglines account, so if there's ever a slow news day on sk*rt, I can catch up on my ever-increasing RSS feeds. Anyway, this post is being submitted there in a late attempt to enter a contest their running with fun prizes that would be perfect for Peanut and I (and that just might reduce my list of unfulfilled purchasing desires to boot!) so if you're reading this, please go join sk*rt (if you haven't already) and vote for my link!