Greg says I should be more sentimental. I got rid of our Rock Band 2 instruments and game, and I think he's a bit unhappy about it. Because of the original Rock Band, Greg and I ended up meeting long ago. And I know he got rid of that one long ago. I remember going with Greg to get Rock Band 2. So there. Without Rock Band, it may have taken us longer to meet. ... To be honest, I was kind of glad to get rid of those things. We had a good time playing the game, but in the last five years we hadn't used them. And they were cluttering up the laundry room. Tycho basically played with them--he'd always pull out the guitars and make me play one of them. Then he'd play the drums, too. That was cute, but since we didn't actually play the game, I wanted to get them out. So I got rid of them.
If you are wondering, I got rid of a china hutch that I really liked among other things, so I'm not just getting rid of Greg's things. That was hard, but I actually like the space I have now (I'll enjoy it for a couple of weeks!), and it makes me realize that as pretty as china is, I'm kind of thinking I should get rid of that, too? I just never used it! I always wanted to, but to be honest, in the five years we've been here, I've just kept that china in the hutch. Maybe if I didn't have to wash every single dish by hand I'd be more inclined to use china? And maybe if I didn't have little ones to worry about, I'd also think about using china more often.
By the way, I am sentimental! I've kept little things that have meant so much to me. Usually notes because they are small. So I have a whole stack of notes and letters and ticket stubs and such that I have collected over the years and I look back and think of the memories that I share with the giver of the notes and the ticket stubs.
I love moving because it forces you to look at your things and declutter. However, getting rid of the things that you bought is really hard. I mean, you spent money on the object (usually) and they were supposed to bring you happiness--and usually they do. I've kind of liked this minimalism movement because I'm enjoying the idea of just keeping things that bring you happiness, and it's made me more conscious of buying things that'll bring happiness instead of just junk.
What's the hardest thing you've had to get rid of?
Monday, July 9, 2018
Sunday, June 17, 2018
Potty Training: Day 0
Dear Universe,
Tomorrow morning, I get to have the pleasure of potty training Tycho. I don't look forward to this important lesson despite it meaning more independence, no stinky diapers, etc. I DON'T WANT TO POTTY TRAIN! They say teething is hard, but this is worse. I'm already stressed over minimal expectations for potty training. More importantly, Tycho also doesn't want to do it. So why are we doing it when Greg is getting ready for trip #1 to Brazil, we are trying to pack up our things to move, and neither of us want to do it? Because getting Tycho to do new things takes so much preparation since he despises change. I figure have a 'try-out' while we are here in a familiar setting and then do the real deal when I am not stressed over moving, etc. when we get to our new house. Is that dumb? I guess so.
I have zero expectations for this transition because underwear has not excited him. The toilet seat, which he picked out, does not excite him. And bribes *barely* work. I bribed Tycho two times today with an M&M to just SIT on the toilet seat and try it out, and we had all the tears on both occasions. I don't even like the idea of bribing him for something civilized people have been doing for a while. It's ridiculous. (Okay, you say rewards, I say bribing. Also, welcome to the world of emotional eating, my dear child.)
Alright, well thanks for listening to me rant about being a parent. I guess I have to go through this since I keep talking about it with Tycho.
Tomorrow morning, I get to have the pleasure of potty training Tycho. I don't look forward to this important lesson despite it meaning more independence, no stinky diapers, etc. I DON'T WANT TO POTTY TRAIN! They say teething is hard, but this is worse. I'm already stressed over minimal expectations for potty training. More importantly, Tycho also doesn't want to do it. So why are we doing it when Greg is getting ready for trip #1 to Brazil, we are trying to pack up our things to move, and neither of us want to do it? Because getting Tycho to do new things takes so much preparation since he despises change. I figure have a 'try-out' while we are here in a familiar setting and then do the real deal when I am not stressed over moving, etc. when we get to our new house. Is that dumb? I guess so.
I have zero expectations for this transition because underwear has not excited him. The toilet seat, which he picked out, does not excite him. And bribes *barely* work. I bribed Tycho two times today with an M&M to just SIT on the toilet seat and try it out, and we had all the tears on both occasions. I don't even like the idea of bribing him for something civilized people have been doing for a while. It's ridiculous. (Okay, you say rewards, I say bribing. Also, welcome to the world of emotional eating, my dear child.)
Alright, well thanks for listening to me rant about being a parent. I guess I have to go through this since I keep talking about it with Tycho.
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
Fast from Facebook
So President Nelson, the current prophet of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints invited the youth to participate in a few things to get the church moving forward. One thing he suggested the youth to do was fast from Facebook for seven days. Even though I'm no longer between the ages of 12-18, I wanted to do this, too, because I have been meaning to work on getting off of Facebook (not using it as a daily tool) as I have realized it's been sucking my time and energy. I also wanted to learn to be more present with people especially my kids.
Anyway, for the past couple of days I've tried to stay off of it--except the time I needed to message someone as I needed to get in contact with them right away. (hey I got on with purpose).
Here's what I've noticed.
I used Facebook as a crutch. *sigh* When I didn't want to face something like a tantrum from Tycho, for instance, I'd turn to Facebook as a means to zone out. "Huh? You're angry?...ugh!" Maybe it's a good thing, but now I really need to take responsibility of my emotions instead of zoning out when I'm feeling bad or something and tune into my kids' emotions as well. Despite how hard it can be.
I used Facebook to wake up sometimes. I need to find something else to do instead. Haha... working on that one.
Now that I don't have Facebook in the way, I realize that I should be doing things I want to do while the kids are napping. Like clean or exercise... I keep telling myself I need to get into shape, but I've been distracted with Facebook. There's always something to look at on Facebook, right?
Update:
I actually really liked this fast from Facebook. It was nice to do something else for a change. I think I'll definitely try it again. I'm trying to be more aware of when I get on, and be more present which is hard because I am trying to sell things on Facebook before we move... I didn't unfriend anyone, but I did decide to not follow group pages because they tend to drag you in.
Anyway, for the past couple of days I've tried to stay off of it--except the time I needed to message someone as I needed to get in contact with them right away. (hey I got on with purpose).
Here's what I've noticed.
I used Facebook as a crutch. *sigh* When I didn't want to face something like a tantrum from Tycho, for instance, I'd turn to Facebook as a means to zone out. "Huh? You're angry?...ugh!" Maybe it's a good thing, but now I really need to take responsibility of my emotions instead of zoning out when I'm feeling bad or something and tune into my kids' emotions as well. Despite how hard it can be.
I used Facebook to wake up sometimes. I need to find something else to do instead. Haha... working on that one.
Now that I don't have Facebook in the way, I realize that I should be doing things I want to do while the kids are napping. Like clean or exercise... I keep telling myself I need to get into shape, but I've been distracted with Facebook. There's always something to look at on Facebook, right?
Update:
I actually really liked this fast from Facebook. It was nice to do something else for a change. I think I'll definitely try it again. I'm trying to be more aware of when I get on, and be more present which is hard because I am trying to sell things on Facebook before we move... I didn't unfriend anyone, but I did decide to not follow group pages because they tend to drag you in.
Monday, August 14, 2017
labor with Frederick part 2
After I had "rested" for half an hour, another nurse by the name of Judy came to see how I was doing and to chat. I instantly felt connected with her because of her name. My grandmother's name is Judy and she is a no-nonsense lady like this nurse, but this nurse was compassionate and understanding unlike the other nurse who wouldn't listen to me. We had a heart-to-heart discussion about why I didn't want to push. I explained that I wasn't ready because I wasn't feeling the same pressure I felt before, that I was scared about how Frederick would be when he came out, that I really didn't want to have Greg look at my bare bottom and vulva in such a manner--I felt so undressed. I was mostly afraid for Frederick.
It was about 10 a.m. at this point, and after this heart-to-heart with this lovely nurse, who agreed to help me with the rest of my delivery, I was able to proceed. I no longer had someone telling me to "PUSH push push!" over and over again. During my resting phase, I had to do a lot of deep breathing pushing, and he was more visible than he was before when the nurse originally told me to start pushing. So, pushing at this point wasn't bad until he started crowning. And then I asked if they could just pull him out of me at that point. They, of course, told me no. Frederick was finally born at 10:26 a.m. after about 12 hours of "active" labor.
Tycho didn't cry as much when he was born; he was rather quite, but Frederick had lusty cries when he finally came out. I cried. I was relieved. I was so happy to hear his cry at that moment. He was okay for me to hold him after a few minutes (the best reward for a 2-degree tear), and they took him to monitor him again. He wasn't as big as I expected; he was 9 lbs 1 oz. I wasn't sure how long he was right away because for whatever reason they didn't measure him. He ended up being 20 inches long, though.
We had three names for this little guy that finally won out: over the long debate: Frederick, Charles, and Gabriel. (The fact that we were able to narrow your name down from a list with a 101 options is a miracle, kid. I still laugh about the option "He who shall not be named"--seemed fitting for the time.) As much as I loved the name Gabriel, it didn't fit. And while I had some reservations about the name Frederick, we ended up with that name. (Sorry, Fred, you and a family dog have the same name. This would have been the same case with Charles, too...If your dad had his way, we would have called you Wolfric which means king of wolves, so I'm not sure which is the best name after all. But Captain Wentworth from the book Persausion is named Frederick, and I like him.)
I got to be with my baby for an hour before he was whisked off to the NICU. If I had to pinpoint which was the hardest part about this experience, it was this moment. Greg followed Frederick, and I was wheeled to my recovery room. The crappy part about the epidural is not walking afterward.
The next couple of days in the hospital were incredibly difficult, and at the moment, I don't think I could write about them.
When Frederick was finally released from the NICU, I felt like I could actually relax with my baby. I had been so worried and stressed about this little guy that when he was finally in my arms without a bunch of monitors, I was relieved and happy. I felt like I could finally connect with this little guy after all these months. He was mine, and I was able to care for him the best way I knew how.
P.S. For your next labor experience, I recommend using birth affirmation cards. I made some--about 25 cards-- and they were of great help to me while I was in labor. I read through them several times. They ranged from scriptures like Deut 31:6, D&C 88:63, & Alma 36:27 to thoughts like "My body is relaxed and calm" to "Relax jaw, soft cervix." Really marvelous thoughts. I wanted to have a positive experience with this birth despite everything that could have happened afterward, so I made positive notes for me to read.
P.S.S. I didn't mind my labor experience this time. It was actually pretty good over all. I was happy about the way things turned out--I was able to go into labor on my own. I was able to do things at my own pace after vocalizing my opinions (pushing), and, of course, Frederick turned out to be well. The only part I feel bad about is when I told Greg that I didn't like a particular friend any more because she has a high pain tolerance and I could not do natural labor (I am super jealous, and I do like this person still).
It was about 10 a.m. at this point, and after this heart-to-heart with this lovely nurse, who agreed to help me with the rest of my delivery, I was able to proceed. I no longer had someone telling me to "PUSH push push!" over and over again. During my resting phase, I had to do a lot of deep breathing pushing, and he was more visible than he was before when the nurse originally told me to start pushing. So, pushing at this point wasn't bad until he started crowning. And then I asked if they could just pull him out of me at that point. They, of course, told me no. Frederick was finally born at 10:26 a.m. after about 12 hours of "active" labor.
Tycho didn't cry as much when he was born; he was rather quite, but Frederick had lusty cries when he finally came out. I cried. I was relieved. I was so happy to hear his cry at that moment. He was okay for me to hold him after a few minutes (the best reward for a 2-degree tear), and they took him to monitor him again. He wasn't as big as I expected; he was 9 lbs 1 oz. I wasn't sure how long he was right away because for whatever reason they didn't measure him. He ended up being 20 inches long, though.
We had three names for this little guy that finally won out: over the long debate: Frederick, Charles, and Gabriel. (The fact that we were able to narrow your name down from a list with a 101 options is a miracle, kid. I still laugh about the option "He who shall not be named"--seemed fitting for the time.) As much as I loved the name Gabriel, it didn't fit. And while I had some reservations about the name Frederick, we ended up with that name. (Sorry, Fred, you and a family dog have the same name. This would have been the same case with Charles, too...If your dad had his way, we would have called you Wolfric which means king of wolves, so I'm not sure which is the best name after all. But Captain Wentworth from the book Persausion is named Frederick, and I like him.)
I got to be with my baby for an hour before he was whisked off to the NICU. If I had to pinpoint which was the hardest part about this experience, it was this moment. Greg followed Frederick, and I was wheeled to my recovery room. The crappy part about the epidural is not walking afterward.
The next couple of days in the hospital were incredibly difficult, and at the moment, I don't think I could write about them.
When Frederick was finally released from the NICU, I felt like I could actually relax with my baby. I had been so worried and stressed about this little guy that when he was finally in my arms without a bunch of monitors, I was relieved and happy. I felt like I could finally connect with this little guy after all these months. He was mine, and I was able to care for him the best way I knew how.
P.S. For your next labor experience, I recommend using birth affirmation cards. I made some--about 25 cards-- and they were of great help to me while I was in labor. I read through them several times. They ranged from scriptures like Deut 31:6, D&C 88:63, & Alma 36:27 to thoughts like "My body is relaxed and calm" to "Relax jaw, soft cervix." Really marvelous thoughts. I wanted to have a positive experience with this birth despite everything that could have happened afterward, so I made positive notes for me to read.
P.S.S. I didn't mind my labor experience this time. It was actually pretty good over all. I was happy about the way things turned out--I was able to go into labor on my own. I was able to do things at my own pace after vocalizing my opinions (pushing), and, of course, Frederick turned out to be well. The only part I feel bad about is when I told Greg that I didn't like a particular friend any more because she has a high pain tolerance and I could not do natural labor (I am super jealous, and I do like this person still).
Labor with Frederick part 1
For those of you who like labor and delivery stories, this post is for you.
Almost a week before I gave birth, I had my last doctor's appointment. I was already considered a day past my due date, so my doctor ended up scheduling an induction date for me as well. Initially, we decided on Wednesday, June 28, which I thought was alright because if I was induced, I knew the baby would come on a even day of the month which would follow the family tradition of being born on an even day of the month, but because I wouldn't have a nurse or something rather, they decided to make my induction date June 27. I didn't like that date at all.
My mother-in-law arrived in town the day of my last O.B. appointment, and it was such a blessing that Frederick decided to wait until after she arrived to be born. Since she had to fly from the States to Canada, we weren't really sure when she should come because babies decide to come whenever they want. But we hoped that this little guy would be late like his brother was, and I have to say that being okay with a late baby this time was a relief except I REALLY didn't want to be induced again. I was close to calling up my doctor and asking, "Can we move this induction day to another day... like later in the week?" At the same time, I was kind of afraid to give birth later in the week because I had an ultrasound appointment the same day as my last O.B. appointment, and they estimated the baby to be 9 lbs 6 oz. I wasn't willing to be induced but at the same time I wasn't willing to give vaginal birth to a 9 1/2 lb baby. So here I was, in limbo, waiting for a baby to arrive now his grandma was in town.
So during that time, I scrubbed the floor, walked around with Tycho, exercised, drank red raspberry leaf tea, ate spicy Indian food hoping the baby would make his debut on his own.
On Sunday evening, our wonderful friends dropped off the fresh pork products we were able to get from mutual friends of ours. To show appreciation for this delivery, I made some bread to give to them only it wasn't ready in time for them to take it home. So I told my friends I'd deliver the bread to them the following day hoping that I'd be in labor and not really deliver the bread (!). Alas, while I had a few contractions that woke me up from my sleep, I wasn't in active labor, and in fact, I thought they were just some heavy duty Braxton Hicks. So I delivered the bread.
My mother-in-law, Tycho, and I delivered the bread, and during that time we were visiting with our friends, I kept having irregular waves of pain that would take some of my focus to get through, but when they went away while I was shopping after delivering the bread, I thought, "Well, that's too bad, I guess I'll go on with my day." I didn't tell anyone about these contractions initially because, frankly, I didn't want to alarm anyone or pressure myself any further. Not having the experience of going into labor on my own, I wasn't sure what to expect.
I had some difficultly getting Tycho to nap that day, and when I finally did get him to lie down, I also took a nap, too. We had a late afternoon nap, and during that time, I had a few more contractions that took my breath away, but since they weren't regular, I ignored them. Any time I was relaxing, I would have contractions. (I later learned that you have more contractions when you are resting.) I told Greg that evening before making dinner that we might have to go to the hospital. I ended up watching clips of Jim Gaffigan on youtube while making dinner because the waves of pain were a little unbearable, but I could manage them, and then they would go away. Ironically, the entire time I was having these contractions, I was trying to get myself ready for an induction the following day. I was so angry that I wasn't in labor yet. Once again, I kept thinking, my body failed to go into labor, and I'd have to be induced which I really didn't want to go through.
As I was putting Tycho to bed, at a very late hour, I'm ashamed to admit, I started having intense contractions about every 7 minutes apart. Long story short, I still nurse Tycho (I wished I weaned him sooner, but he was teething...for several months straight. *sigh* I guess you just have to be a mean mom sooner or later and pull the plug--nipple.), and nipple stimulation is a real thing for helping labor progress... Poor kid was upset because I ended up having to leave before he was asleep. I ended up using the intercom system on our house phone, and telling Greg he needed to put Tycho to bed. When he came upstairs, he realized that he needed to take me to the hospital right away and had his mom put Tycho to bed. I told him, I was fine, and that I could wait a little longer to go to the hospital, but Greg insisted that we had to go, but I insisted that I'd take a bath first as I hadn't showered that day, but taking a bath did nothing to help me calm down or stop shaking, and Greg had me out of the tub and into the car to take the almost hour-long drive to the hospital.
During our drive, I had major contractions every 6 minutes with a little contractions 3 minutes apart...okay so contractions 3 minutes a part. We were lucky that I had gone into labor so late at night so the traffic wasn't bad, but whenever there was a minor inconvenience (why are we at a red light at 1 a.m.?!!) I'd start talking like a pirate... I was lucky that there were so few inconveniences, and that Greg could drive well despite my yelling at least every 6 minutes. ;) I have to add that sitting still in the car was so hard for my body; I couldn't relax, and my body was shaking uncontrollably.
By the time we got to triage, I learned I was 6-7 cm dilated. Hahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hooray I went into labor on my own!
I got two vials of blood taken and an hook up for an IV from an experienced nurse just *in case* I wanted an epidural. (After I had Tycho, I was nervous about having an IV again, because it was done so poorly, so I requested an experienced nurse to do the deed.) Sadly, I almost passed out after having blood drawn, and I ended up needing to be wheeled to my delivery room. How embarrassing.
I listened to a playlist of songs I compiled while I paced next to my bed, no longer shaking uncontrollably because I was able to relax. (Btw, Queen's "Don't Stop me Now" was not a good choice for the playlist. I am NOT having a good time, Freddie Mercury.) I had to have a heart monitor for the little guy, so I couldn't stray far except for the time I felt like I had to pee so badly, and then I was helped over to the bathroom. The first nurse attending me was awesome and fetched me popsicles and was easy to talk with. Around 5 a.m. my labor pains got to be so intense that I could neither sit not stand, and my water broke from the top, so it would trickle down during each contraction, making a mess all over, so I opted for the epidural after much prodding and support from Greg. Looking back, I am happy with that decision despite the desire for a natural delivery, but I was unable to get comfortable during contractions. Plus, I was starting to talk like a pirate again, and I felt like that was the wrong experience for me and everyone around me. And unlike Grand River Hospital, McMaster's doesn't leave a catheter in the entire time you're laboring with an epidural which made the experience much better.
My second nurse was a drill sergeant; she camein around 7:30 a.m. Around 9 a.m. she checked my cervix, and told me I was 10 cm, and since I was 10 cm, I should start pushing NOW. So I started pushing. She would repeat over and over "PUSH push push push push!" It was starting to get annoying and super frustrating to have her boss me around. I wanted to be in an optimal pushing position, but I COULDN'T get comfortable on my back and I couldn't feel that pressure to push like I felt with Tycho. I tried explaining this, but she ignored me. "You're going to be uncomfortable no matter what, so just start pushing!" So I told her after a few attempts to push that I wanted to rest....and I took the passive aggressive way out of this situation and she ended up leaving to go on break or something.
Almost a week before I gave birth, I had my last doctor's appointment. I was already considered a day past my due date, so my doctor ended up scheduling an induction date for me as well. Initially, we decided on Wednesday, June 28, which I thought was alright because if I was induced, I knew the baby would come on a even day of the month which would follow the family tradition of being born on an even day of the month, but because I wouldn't have a nurse or something rather, they decided to make my induction date June 27. I didn't like that date at all.
My mother-in-law arrived in town the day of my last O.B. appointment, and it was such a blessing that Frederick decided to wait until after she arrived to be born. Since she had to fly from the States to Canada, we weren't really sure when she should come because babies decide to come whenever they want. But we hoped that this little guy would be late like his brother was, and I have to say that being okay with a late baby this time was a relief except I REALLY didn't want to be induced again. I was close to calling up my doctor and asking, "Can we move this induction day to another day... like later in the week?" At the same time, I was kind of afraid to give birth later in the week because I had an ultrasound appointment the same day as my last O.B. appointment, and they estimated the baby to be 9 lbs 6 oz. I wasn't willing to be induced but at the same time I wasn't willing to give vaginal birth to a 9 1/2 lb baby. So here I was, in limbo, waiting for a baby to arrive now his grandma was in town.
So during that time, I scrubbed the floor, walked around with Tycho, exercised, drank red raspberry leaf tea, ate spicy Indian food hoping the baby would make his debut on his own.
On Sunday evening, our wonderful friends dropped off the fresh pork products we were able to get from mutual friends of ours. To show appreciation for this delivery, I made some bread to give to them only it wasn't ready in time for them to take it home. So I told my friends I'd deliver the bread to them the following day hoping that I'd be in labor and not really deliver the bread (!). Alas, while I had a few contractions that woke me up from my sleep, I wasn't in active labor, and in fact, I thought they were just some heavy duty Braxton Hicks. So I delivered the bread.
My mother-in-law, Tycho, and I delivered the bread, and during that time we were visiting with our friends, I kept having irregular waves of pain that would take some of my focus to get through, but when they went away while I was shopping after delivering the bread, I thought, "Well, that's too bad, I guess I'll go on with my day." I didn't tell anyone about these contractions initially because, frankly, I didn't want to alarm anyone or pressure myself any further. Not having the experience of going into labor on my own, I wasn't sure what to expect.
I had some difficultly getting Tycho to nap that day, and when I finally did get him to lie down, I also took a nap, too. We had a late afternoon nap, and during that time, I had a few more contractions that took my breath away, but since they weren't regular, I ignored them. Any time I was relaxing, I would have contractions. (I later learned that you have more contractions when you are resting.) I told Greg that evening before making dinner that we might have to go to the hospital. I ended up watching clips of Jim Gaffigan on youtube while making dinner because the waves of pain were a little unbearable, but I could manage them, and then they would go away. Ironically, the entire time I was having these contractions, I was trying to get myself ready for an induction the following day. I was so angry that I wasn't in labor yet. Once again, I kept thinking, my body failed to go into labor, and I'd have to be induced which I really didn't want to go through.
As I was putting Tycho to bed, at a very late hour, I'm ashamed to admit, I started having intense contractions about every 7 minutes apart. Long story short, I still nurse Tycho (I wished I weaned him sooner, but he was teething...for several months straight. *sigh* I guess you just have to be a mean mom sooner or later and pull the plug--nipple.), and nipple stimulation is a real thing for helping labor progress... Poor kid was upset because I ended up having to leave before he was asleep. I ended up using the intercom system on our house phone, and telling Greg he needed to put Tycho to bed. When he came upstairs, he realized that he needed to take me to the hospital right away and had his mom put Tycho to bed. I told him, I was fine, and that I could wait a little longer to go to the hospital, but Greg insisted that we had to go, but I insisted that I'd take a bath first as I hadn't showered that day, but taking a bath did nothing to help me calm down or stop shaking, and Greg had me out of the tub and into the car to take the almost hour-long drive to the hospital.
During our drive, I had major contractions every 6 minutes with a little contractions 3 minutes apart...okay so contractions 3 minutes a part. We were lucky that I had gone into labor so late at night so the traffic wasn't bad, but whenever there was a minor inconvenience (why are we at a red light at 1 a.m.?!!) I'd start talking like a pirate... I was lucky that there were so few inconveniences, and that Greg could drive well despite my yelling at least every 6 minutes. ;) I have to add that sitting still in the car was so hard for my body; I couldn't relax, and my body was shaking uncontrollably.
By the time we got to triage, I learned I was 6-7 cm dilated. Hahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hooray I went into labor on my own!
I got two vials of blood taken and an hook up for an IV from an experienced nurse just *in case* I wanted an epidural. (After I had Tycho, I was nervous about having an IV again, because it was done so poorly, so I requested an experienced nurse to do the deed.) Sadly, I almost passed out after having blood drawn, and I ended up needing to be wheeled to my delivery room. How embarrassing.
I listened to a playlist of songs I compiled while I paced next to my bed, no longer shaking uncontrollably because I was able to relax. (Btw, Queen's "Don't Stop me Now" was not a good choice for the playlist. I am NOT having a good time, Freddie Mercury.) I had to have a heart monitor for the little guy, so I couldn't stray far except for the time I felt like I had to pee so badly, and then I was helped over to the bathroom. The first nurse attending me was awesome and fetched me popsicles and was easy to talk with. Around 5 a.m. my labor pains got to be so intense that I could neither sit not stand, and my water broke from the top, so it would trickle down during each contraction, making a mess all over, so I opted for the epidural after much prodding and support from Greg. Looking back, I am happy with that decision despite the desire for a natural delivery, but I was unable to get comfortable during contractions. Plus, I was starting to talk like a pirate again, and I felt like that was the wrong experience for me and everyone around me. And unlike Grand River Hospital, McMaster's doesn't leave a catheter in the entire time you're laboring with an epidural which made the experience much better.
My second nurse was a drill sergeant; she camein around 7:30 a.m. Around 9 a.m. she checked my cervix, and told me I was 10 cm, and since I was 10 cm, I should start pushing NOW. So I started pushing. She would repeat over and over "PUSH push push push push!" It was starting to get annoying and super frustrating to have her boss me around. I wanted to be in an optimal pushing position, but I COULDN'T get comfortable on my back and I couldn't feel that pressure to push like I felt with Tycho. I tried explaining this, but she ignored me. "You're going to be uncomfortable no matter what, so just start pushing!" So I told her after a few attempts to push that I wanted to rest....and I took the passive aggressive way out of this situation and she ended up leaving to go on break or something.
Thursday, April 20, 2017
Weird Pregnancy Question
Why do people always ask how you are feeling when you're pregnant? But not at any other time during your life? I feel like it's the oddest question to receive. What do you want me to say? Pregnancy sucks. That I'm fine--nothing about pregnancy bothers me. And I always feel like it comes at the wrong point in pregnancy. Talk to me during the first trimester, and I will tell you all the feelings.
I guess this thought comes from the fact that I am carrying a child with a heart abnormality which kind of sucks. And I know people don't realize that they are asking me a dumb question. I know they mean well, but I know they aren't asking about my baby with a heart abnormality.
So how do I honestly feel? Alone. Stressed out and scared for my baby. Nervous about how he'll adjust to being outside of the womb. Annoyed by trips to a hospital that's an hour away with appointments that take forever and end up during Tycho's nap time...*sigh* like I do well with nap time anyway. Frustrated with the lack of control over my life.
Otherwise, my pregnancy is going well. Thanks for asking.
I guess this thought comes from the fact that I am carrying a child with a heart abnormality which kind of sucks. And I know people don't realize that they are asking me a dumb question. I know they mean well, but I know they aren't asking about my baby with a heart abnormality.
So how do I honestly feel? Alone. Stressed out and scared for my baby. Nervous about how he'll adjust to being outside of the womb. Annoyed by trips to a hospital that's an hour away with appointments that take forever and end up during Tycho's nap time...*sigh* like I do well with nap time anyway. Frustrated with the lack of control over my life.
Otherwise, my pregnancy is going well. Thanks for asking.
Monday, April 10, 2017
Just because I'm pregnant, doesn't mean I'm an invalid
I know some of my posts have become rants lately. I apologize.
The title of this post says it all. I may be pregnant, but it doesn't mean that I am unable to do stuff. If I was, I'd ask for help or say something. But when I want to do something myself, I will do that said thing. When I was in second grade, I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars. I got up on my own, and walked over to the teacher on duty and said, "I think I broke my arm," as I held up my clearly bent wrist. I wished so much I have that ability to do that in more cases, but I can't. Another time, I was getting blood work done to see if I was iron-efficient. They did the little finger prick, but when the blood wasn't flowing, the nurse asked to see if I could help by pressing on my finger. As I did, I realized I was going to throw up, and I ran out of the room. I know my limits.
Guys, I'm not saying I want to work out in rice fields every day and eventually go into labor as I'm working out in the fields like O-Lan from the book The Good Earth, but I don't want to be like the woman from the short story The Yellow Wallpaper (yes, I know that this story takes place AFTER she gives birth, but same point), and not be able to lift a damned finger.
Today while seven months pregnant, I moved several pieces of furniture in my son's room (dresser, book case, and chair). I've asked for help in moving other pieces of furniture in his room because I know I can't do it.
The title of this post says it all. I may be pregnant, but it doesn't mean that I am unable to do stuff. If I was, I'd ask for help or say something. But when I want to do something myself, I will do that said thing. When I was in second grade, I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars. I got up on my own, and walked over to the teacher on duty and said, "I think I broke my arm," as I held up my clearly bent wrist. I wished so much I have that ability to do that in more cases, but I can't. Another time, I was getting blood work done to see if I was iron-efficient. They did the little finger prick, but when the blood wasn't flowing, the nurse asked to see if I could help by pressing on my finger. As I did, I realized I was going to throw up, and I ran out of the room. I know my limits.
Guys, I'm not saying I want to work out in rice fields every day and eventually go into labor as I'm working out in the fields like O-Lan from the book The Good Earth, but I don't want to be like the woman from the short story The Yellow Wallpaper (yes, I know that this story takes place AFTER she gives birth, but same point), and not be able to lift a damned finger.
Today while seven months pregnant, I moved several pieces of furniture in my son's room (dresser, book case, and chair). I've asked for help in moving other pieces of furniture in his room because I know I can't do it.
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