Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Knights of the Kiddie Table

As I sit down to write this, my daughter is in her little swing next to me sleeping the day away. Lucky duck. Despite the fact that I'm exhausted, I still haven't managed to perfect the art of falling asleep at the drop of a hat. Hopefully I'll learn soon, otherwise I'll simply pass out. Either way, I'll sleep eventually.

Oh, perfect. She just loaded up her pants. That will be fun for me later. You see, I say "later" because she's not an all-at-once-r. No, she likes to make a mess in her diaper in strategically planned intervals. Just when I think she's finished and I go to change her... WHAM. Pee everywhere.  Luckily for me, I figured her little scheme out before I changed a poopy one. 

But, seriously, Alexa has been wonderful as far as infants go. Yeah, she wakes up in the middle of the night wanting food, but what baby doesn't? She's actually a pretty mellow kid. I am extremely lucky. Sure, my body needs a little extra sleep to heal up from a major surgery, but I'm dealing.

I've noticed that there is this unspoken mom club that you join once you have your first kid. Moms everywhere will rally together to give you advice or share little secrets with you. Sometimes, yes, they overstep their bounds, but most of the time it's all in the name of learning and coping. Facebook has become one of my biggest ally's. Got a problem? Post a status asking all the moms out there what they would do. Check back in ten minutes. Twelve responses. Perfect!

So, this post is to thank all the moms out there who have graciously accepted me as a fellow Knight of the Kiddie Table. Thanks for saying how adorable my baby is. (I know.) Thanks for all your advice. (Most of it has worked perfectly.) And, lastly, thanks for remembering what it was like to be a new, scared and completely lost mommy. 

And now, without further adieu, here's some pictures of my awesomely cute baby.

Happy Wednesday!

Oh, P.S., The doctor told me today that we don't have to wake her up in the middle of the night for her to eat anymore because she's gained 10 ounces in a week! Holy poop! I mean, I knew that she had been eating a lot, but wow! I'm glad she can't exactly understand me yet, because during her many feedings I'll change the words to the Hungry Hungry Hippos jingle to Hungry Hungry Babies. Tee-hee.

Okay, bye for realz.

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Saturday, July 21, 2012

Alexa's Birth Story

She's here! She's here! She's FINALLY here!

So, at 7:30 pm on Tuesday, July 10th, my husband and I drove up to the hospital to begin the induction process since she refused to come naturally. I got into my room, into their gown, and simply had to wait out the night after they inserted the Cervadil to help dilate me since I was still a big, fat zero on that scale.

Morning comes, and I'm checked again. 


I was devastated. Completely heartbroken. I had waited so long for my child and I was going to have to go home without her. 

I didn't get out of bed for the rest of the day. I cried more than I thought possible. I pleaded with her to PLEASE come out on her own. Didn't she want to see me? Did she already not like me? Those kinds of thoughts clouded my head for the next three days.

Fast forward to Sunday night. Same tune, different song. Check in, gown up, wait-and-see. However, I didn't have to wait very long this time. About an hour after the Cervadil was inserted, my water broke. YES! That's when the nurse said that most beautiful thing I had ever heard up to that point, 

"You're not leaving here without your baby, now."

Oh, how I cried. 

They wanted to track my natural contractions overnight. So after being harnessed up to one of the most awkward machines ever, I was told to try and sleep. Yeah, right. After about three hours, my contractions stopped completely, and they were forced to begin the Pitocin at 3:00 Monday morning.

Oh, my heavens. If any of you have ever had that injected into your body, you have my immediate respect. To say the contractions they produced were hellish would be a gross understatement. By the time they came in eight hours later to give me the epidural, I was screaming. My sweet husband kept saying over and over how much he wished he could take the pain from me and do it himself. He absolutely hated seeing me like that. 

After the epidural was in place, life was SO much better. I actually managed to get some sleep. But, by 3:00 in the afternoon, the pain was back with a vengeance. I was dilated to a 7 by this point and even though the awesome anesthetist kept coming back to tweak the medication, nothing really helped for very long. By the time I was dilated to a 9, I had been in labor for 17 of the longest hours of my life. When Dr. Jerkhole came in to check my cervix for the last time, I was told that the baby was too big and that I would be having her via C-Section. 

Uhm. Excuse me?

Does anyone remember this post? Yeah. At that doctor's appointment, he said that every mother felt like her baby would be too big to deliver and that he was, under no circumstances, going to perform an ultrasound on me unless there was a medical reason to.

So, when the doctor said that I'd be getting the surgery, I looked him right in the eye, gritted through another heinous contraction and said,

"I told you I'd need a C-Section five weeks ago. I told you she would be too big for me. You would have been able to tell if you had just done the ultrasound like I asked you to."

He said nothing.

Nick was told to scrub up, and I was prepped for surgery. I tell you, the preparation took longer than the surgery itself. My arms were strapped down, I was numbed up, and surgery began at 5:17. At 5:23, my daughter was born. I was told to look to my right, and there she was. The first words that escaped my lips were, 

"She's real! Nick, she's real!"

Nick went with the baby to clean her up, and I was left to be stitched up. Bob, a sweet, older gentleman who was also the anesthetist, held my hand while they finished up because I could not stop shaking during the entire procedure. I felt horrible when I threw up on him. 

Two hours later they finally brought me back upstairs where Alexa, Nick and his entire family were waiting. I was gingerly placed in my hospital bed and Nick finally put my baby in my arms for the first time. I couldn't help it, I cried so hard. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and she was mine. I fell in love instantly.

We have been home for two days now, and I still cry at everything because my stupid hormones are coming down. My angel of a mother has stayed with me since I was released from the hospital and she has been a tremendous blessing. She's made wonderful meals, purchased food for us and just watched over my baby so that I could sleep. Even though I'm unnaturally emotional right now, I still think I'd cry because of all that she's done for me.

Alexa is an angel and I love her more than I thought possible. I still burst into tears whenever I stop and stare at her because she is, honestly, the most gorgeous thing I have ever laid my eyes on. Sleep is such a burden to me because all I want to do is snuggle her forever. I get anxious when she's not in the room with me. I hurt when she cries. She is such a mellow and sweet baby. Nick and I are very, very lucky.

I am terrified that I'm going to wake up and be 15 weeks pregnant again. So, every night before I go to sleep, I try to memorize every part of her. I cannot wait to be back to physical working order so that I can lie on the floor next to her, or pick her up without pain. 

Sorry if this post is way too sappy for your liking. Firstly, I don't care. And secondly, it's hard to be sarcastic or witty on three hours of sleep. 

Thank you all for your support throughout my pregnancy. I would have lost my sanity without you!

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Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Maternity Mon....Oh, whatever.

Yes. I'm still pregnant. Lucky, lucky me.

My due date was on Saturday, and, lo and behold, I'm still a beached whale. I'm scheduled to go into the hospital tomorrow night, get some meds to help me dilate and begin the induction process on Thursday morning. If, for whatever reason, the Oxytocin doesn't work and I'm sent home without my baby, I'll be one hot mess. If that's the case, I'll go BACK to the hospital on Sunday night and they'll try the whole process again. The goal, according to the doctor, is to not push me into needing a C-Section. But, at this point, I really don't care. I'm about ready to give myself a C-Section, for crying out loud. 

At any rate, this will be the last post I write until I'm an official mama. Wish me luck tomorrow!

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Thursday, July 5, 2012

One Year and a Day Ago...

The 4th of July will always have a special place in my heart. Not only is it my favorite holiday EVER, but this one marks one year from the day that Nick asked me to marry him. 

He was planning on proposing in May, originally. He had this big, elaborate "Date Day" set up. He even went through the trouble of ordering a custom made invitation and mailing it to my house. When I opened the invitation, my thoughts immediately went to, "OMGrapefruit, he's proposing." I even asked his seven year old  sister if that's what he was doing.

"YEAH!" She said.


So, along comes Date Day. We did SO much stuff. We started out by volunteering at the hospital. Seriously. It was really a cool experience. Then, we had lunch and went to see "Kung Fu Panda 2". Afterwards, he took me back to his apartment and taught me how to make tortillas. (He lived in Mexico for two years.) THAT was an experience. We also cooked chicken (which splattered grease all over my arms and I had "battle wounds" for two months), prepared a seriously pretty salad and even made Flan. Yum. At the end of everything, he took me home, kissed me goodnight and left. 

Wait, what?

He never proposed?!

His sister is SUCH a liar.

As it turns out, he didn't have the ring yet. Because he was having it custom made for me by his cousin in Virginia, it wasn't quite finished by the deadline Nick had set. 

"Oh, well," he thought. "This will throw her off my scent, anyway."

It certainly did.

Fast forward to July 2nd. It was a Saturday and I was really looking forward to watching the fireworks with him the following Monday. 

Of course, autocorrect had other plans...

Anyway, we did NOT go pooping that day. Instead, he took me to a waterfall in his hometown.

Now, I wasn't aware that we'd be off-roading that day, so I wore some very unsteady flip flops. When I saw that he was leading me PAST the railing and onto the rocks leading directly to the falls, I had a minor freak out. He was very patient with me and held my hand the entire way so I wouldn't fall to my death.

Anyway, when we got to the rock that I've circled in the picture above, he told me to close my eyes. 

"Right, okay," I thought. "So when I open my eyes, he'll be on one knee. YAY!"

I was wrong again.

He slid a card into my hands and told me to read it.

He had actually written his proposal out in a card so that I could have it forever and read it over and over again. I, of course, cried my eyes out. While I was reading, he had gotten the ring out of his pocket and was kneeling in front of me. I yelled out, "OF COURSE!" and just about tackled him off the rock in an attempt to hug and kiss him. 

Unbeknownst to us, while all of this was happening, we were getting an audience at the lookout. So, when I kissed him, we heard, "WOOOOOOOO!!!!" That was pretty much the icing on the cake for him and he was pretty proud of himself. And why not? He was a total stud that day.

So, now you know. I love the 4th of July more than any other holiday.

How was your 4th?

P.S. I guess my Tuesday's Confessions was kind of a bust. Let's just forget all about that, shall we? Deal.

Aunie Sauce

young and restless

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Tuesday's Confessions Blog Hop

Hi everyone! It's Day 1 of Tuesday's Confessions! Are you excited? I am!

Today, I'm going to tell you about the fact that I've taken three different sets of swimming courses, and I still don't know how to swim.

I know. It's shameful. What 23 year old doesn't know how to swim? Me. Why?

That's why. See all that hair? This is me at six years old. I know. Adorable, right? But let's focus. I didn't start taking swim classes until I was seven, and I still hadn't had a haircut. Consequently, when my teacher had us all hold our noses and dunk our heads underwater, my head got sucked up by the filter. Nobody noticed that I hadn't popped back up for a little over a minute. Not until someone saw a disembodied foot floating in the water. 

Needless to say, water above my shoulders scares the everliving out of me. I'm not very buoyant and I'm short. However, I'm determined to learn how to swim before I become pregnant again. Wish me luck!

Now that I've shared my confession for the week, it's your turn! Link up below and tell us a little about yourself.

Happy Tuesday!


Monday, July 2, 2012

Maternity Mondays: 39 Weeks

I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around this time frame that I'm in. My due date is on Saturday. SATURDAY. If she doesn't come by then, we'll wait until next Saturday and I'll be induced. Regardless, in two weeks there will be a baby in this house. Weird.

Have you ever looked forward to one single event for so long that you begin to wonder what you'll be thinking when it finally arrives? I do that ALL the time. Like, for instance, I keep wondering what will be going through my head when I realize that the contractions I'm having are real. Or what I'll be thinking when the nurse says, "Okay, Michelle. It's time to push." Or what could possibly cross my mind when they finally hand her to me and tell me she's all mine.

Now, onto the funny stuffs.

Remember my last Maternity Monday post? I mentioned how I keep answering the same questions over and over and over but I at least try to keep my cool? I kid you not, about an hour after I posted that, I had to run an errand and fill up the car. When I went inside to pay, I decided that I MUST have a soda (since the Coke machine incident was still fresh in my mind.) So, there I am, minding my own business, filling up my giant cup, when I hear a voice behind me.

Her: "When's that baby due?"

Now, I wasn't expecting a conversation when I went in there, so it hardly registered to me that someone was speaking until she repeated her question. Much louder.

(I turn around slowly.)
Me: "...July 7th."
(I go back to filling my cup.)
Her: "Wow! That's comin' up real quick!"
Me: (still not looking at her) "Yep."

Then she proceeds to walk over to where I was so that I couldn't possibly ignore her. I mean, she stood CLOSE.

Her: "Do ya know whatchur havin?"
(I look her in the eyes and hope she receives the message that I really don't want to talk to her.)
Me: "Yes."
Her: "Wut is it?"
Me: (sigh in defeat) "It's a girl."
Her: "OH THAT'S JUST WUNDURFUL! Doya have a burth plan?"

Now, never being asked that question before, I kind of lose it. When I say that I've never been asked that before, I mean by ANYONE. Not my doctor. Not my friends. Not even my parents. Nobody has ever EVER asked me that. 

Me: "Look, ma'am. I don't want to be rude, but I don't really like discussing this kind of stuff with my friends, much less a complete stranger."
(She looks slightly miffed, but remains silent.)
Me: "I mean, I'm not going to come up to you and ask you how many bones you've broken in your life or how many cigarettes you've obviously smoked this morning. Why? Because it's none of my business. Being clearly pregnant isn't an open invitation for random people to ask me lots of questions when all I'd really like to do is pay for my gas, this soda and go home. Does that make sense?"
Her: "Oh. Yer right. I'm sorree."
Me: "Thank you."

As I turn away to walk towards the counter to pay, I hear this:

Her: "So are ya dilated yet?"

REALLY?! You have got to be joking. No one can possibly be that thick. I had to pay quickly and leave because I knew that if I turned around I would surely kill her.

Thinking about that still irritates me, but it appears that story was a huge source of entertainment for Nick who laughed a LOT while I was recounting it to him. Through the tears that were forming in his eyes, he managed an, "I'm sorry, babe, but that's hysterical," before he died.

Just kidding. I didn't kill him. 

Happy Monday!