13 july 2009, 13.30p.m
Welcome, baby girl.
Monthly Archives
July 2009
As a break from tradition, I’m posting on my lovely Saturday morning, as opposed to writhing in bed waiting for contractions to start. There’s probably lots of folks anxious to know if the baby is out yet, so here’s an update. NOT. EVEN. CLOSE.
I’m down to less than 20 hours to the point that my gynae is going to have to force Kirsten out. During my visit on Thursday, things weren’t looking so good.
After doing the dreadful internal exam, he had this to say about my cervix:
Gynae: Mmm, no sign of any dilation at all.
Me: Not even like 1 cm? Is that bad? What does that mean?
Gynae: We’ll just have to wait till Sunday.
Me: So what are my chances of having a normal delivery?
Gynae: *pause* Not so good.
Right. Which is a euphemism for “I hate to break it to you lady, but there’s probably no chance in hell she’s coming out from your vagina.”
So with every passing minute of every day since Thursday, my heart beats a little faster and I start getting mild panic attacks. I just spent the better part of last night trying to manufacture contractions and panicking about the thought of another c-section. For the past year, I’ve somehow managed to block out all memories of the experience from my consciousness, but it’s all coming back to me now.
In fact, it’s flooding into my head with a vengeance. I have very vivid memories of having to scream for morphine when the epidural wore off. For a month after that, every movement I made felt like my stitches were going to split open. And then there’s the accursed, suck-like-hell catheter and enema (that I endured 3 TIMES the last round, and by the third time, I was literally terrified shitless).
And so the countdown continues. And the hyperventilating intensifies.
Come on, come on, come on, come on…
Words fail to describe how awesome my coiffure is
I have no idea how it happened, but in the past week, my boy has morphed into a non-stop talking machine. Ok, the only recognizable word so far is mama (which he calls with such emotion), and the rest of it is like a bunch of gibberish. But I’m actually convinced it’s actually a language. with actual syllables and words that mean something.
Listening to babies talk, you’d be tempted to just dismiss it as nonsense, or random sounds that they make for fun. But I’ve been observing him for days now, and there’s so much feeling going into his conversations that I’m pretty sure he’s trying to say something. So I’ve been trying to have extended conversations with him, trying to decipher the code.
Tru: Mama, dapaeljfes kenify juaper sakejr.
Me: Not right now, honey. You’ve got to finish your porridge first.
Tru: Dadyear tatare feislr klake.
Me: But we’re going to the library tomorrow. Today we’ll do something else ok, maybe we can go the park for a walk later.
Tru: Fasfer taerje glear leraes! Jaelr eeleares arj! issejiear sakme uwahrae!
Me: I thought you liked going to the park. We can play with all the kids and chill out…
Tru: DAJEAREASJRAIESTOIATSDGAJGAJKETIOA!!!!! ESTJLDGFGAKJSTILESAJLKDGLKADJFLKSDJF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: Ok, ok, calm down. We’ll go to the library today instead. Sheesh!
And this goes on for quite a while, as his voice gets louder and increasingly worked up. He’s even got accompanying hand gestures to emphasize his points from time to time. And he’ll look at you with this intense gaze, as if he’s pouring out his heart to you in that one conversation. It totally cracks me up.
I’ve also been trying to teach him real English words, but he probably thinks it’s too lame to learn 1 word at a time and he prefers going on his soliloquies.
I suspect he’s trying to teach me his language instead, cos that’s so much cooler than speaking English.
what happens when i press this button here? absolutely NOTHING.
So here’s the deal. According to the gynae, Kirsten has up till Sunday to come out. The best case scenario is if I go into labor before then and my cervix cooperates and voila! If that doesn’t happen, I’ve got two choices, which is either to go for a c-section or medical induction on Sunday morning.
Either way, she’s coming out by then.
It’s a bit of a pickle, seeing that I’m intent on doing my darnest to squeeze her out of my thing. I’m totally dreading having to go for another c-section, where the recovery will be a real pain (literally). Plus, there’s the breastfeeding problem and not to mention, that destroys all chance of ever going for VBAC again. Which means my dream of having half a dozen kids will be up in smoke.
But the induction doesn’t bode well either, as it increases the risk of a scar rupture by like 5-6%. Which is not a lot in the grand scheme of things, but if you think about it, any chance that my stomach could spontaneously split open while I’m trying to push a child out of my vajayjay s is not an appealing prospect at all.
I’ve got the next 3 days to decide if I’m going to take the chance, and the thought of either scenario is making me panic a little. I’m still keeping my fingers crossed that she will decide to come out on her own before Sunday. But looking on the bright side, at least after Sunday I won’t be pregnant anymore.
And of course, it’ll be a whole new round of madness. It’s going to be so much fun.
The one question that I ask myself everyday as a stay home mom is “WHY IN THE WORLD AM I DOING THIS?” Especially on particularly bad days where the house is a mess, I’ve got crazy hair and Tru is driving me up the wall, that question pops up at least 4-5 times. I could have been chilling out at a proper job, sipping my lattes and having some decent conversation with proper adults.
And if not for all the little moments that make me stop and go “awww…”, I probably wouldn’t have made it this far.
Here’s my list of Classic Moments as a Mom:
1. The way Tru giggles his head off at the most banal, mundane things like Mommy folding clothes or changing the sheets. Once in a while, he’ll even try to help.
2. Sometimes he’ll be all engrossed with his toys, but he’ll suddenly stop, look up and flash me a giant grin.
3. The look of delight and annoyance when I smother him with kisses. He’ll be all like “Moommm, I’m a big boy now… but here, you missed a spot”
4. When Tru wakes up in the morning, he’ll press his cheeks against mine and then start shouting in my ear.
5. No matter how much discomfort he’s in, he’ll still try to suck it up and bear with it.
6. The look on his face after he wakes up from a really long nap.
Classic
Part 1 is right here.
I made a home video that is sure to be the next big hit. It’s got a baby and a dog. And Lauryn Hill. And a half-naked man.
All the ingredients for a massive hit.
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2j8D_rTffI
PS. Seriously, please ignore the semi-naked person in the background. We were trying to avoid it, which explains why Tru’s head was cut off during some parts.
Seriously, the waiting is KILLING ME. I’ve tried every natural birth induction method (except acupuncture because you will have to kill me before I’m allowing anyone to stick needles in my body) since friday and none of it is working. I have been more or less confined to the toilet for some serious business, but other than that, there isn’t even the slightest sign that Kirsten is coming out.
It’s probably way too comfy inside, what with all the goodies I’ve been feeding her and all that water to swim around in. It’s like a permanent spa. Come to think of it, I’d probably not want to come out if I were her.
I haven’t the slightest clue what labor feels like and I’ve been asking everyone who’s ever given birth to describe it to me. The forums aren’t that helpful either. Some say it feels like you need to take a massive crap, and others say it’s like the mother of all menstrual cramps. It’s supposed to be a dull, throbbing pain that comes and goes every few minutes. Mostly, the consensus is that the pain is so bad you lose all control of your mental faculties.
Not that helpful, cos my stomach feels like its in knots all the time. And with the amount of laxatives I’ve been taking, I seriously can’t tell the difference. Every time I feel some tightening in my stomach, I wash my hair and prepare to fly down to the hospital, but apparently, none of it is the real thing. I’m still here and Kirsten is still inside. And now I’ve got really clean hair.
When I last checked on Thursday, she’d already hit 3.3kg, which is already bigger than Tru was when he was born. At the rate she’s going, I’m going to have to squeeze a 4 kg monster of a child out of my thing, which also increases the risk of a wound rupture, which means that I could end up waiting all this time and having to go for another c-section. Gah!
I’m so desperate I’ve even tried to go all new age and visualize my cervix opening up like a flower, (complete with the nirvana music, as I would like to call it) although half the time I’m giggling at how retarded the mental image is.
Now I’ve missed the 4th of July and I can’t show off having an independence day baby. I’ll just end up having my kid on another boring, non-cool date. I hate it when that happens.
And it’s all thanks to my uncooperative cervix.
