Luke is completely taken by his new baby brother and frequently comes over to "see" him. His definition of "seeing" seems to be a cross between rubbing, patting, and trying to convince us to let him hold Weston. Here's some of what he's said recently about the baby:
Luke, putting his face right next to Weston's: Baby Weston, are you a cutie pie?
Me: Luke, are you a cutie pie?
Luke: No, I'm a boy! Baby Weston is a cutie pie.
Luke: Baby Weston, you have a birdie and a crocodile on your shirt. See them? They go cheep-cheep-chomp.
Luke, bringing me his (non-working, battery-less) cell phone: There's a picture of Baby Weston in my phone! See?
Luke, later talking on his cell phone: Hi, Other Baby! What are you doing? I playing with Baby Weston. He has small feet.
Luke, at least 10 times daily, usually when I'm nursing Weston: Baby Weston, are you all right? Are you ok?
Luke, in the car, to a crying Weston: Baby Weston, it's okay...don't be scared.
I'm surrounded by an insane amount of cuteness right now. Here's hoping the big brother honeymoon doesn't end too soon.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Buddha Baby
As promised, here are the cute newborn and toddler pictures!
How did all that chub fit inside me?!
Studying Weston for the first time.
McMoose and Weston at the birth center.
Luke meeting his baby brother for the first time.
Luke has learned how to take self-portraits.
Luke and Weston wearing their monster shirts.
Buddha baby!
There's a picture of Luke wearing this same outfit as a newborn. I can't believe how much bigger Weston looks!
All this lying around and having people adore you is tiring stuff!
How did all that chub fit inside me?!
Studying Weston for the first time.
McMoose and Weston at the birth center.
Luke meeting his baby brother for the first time.
Luke has learned how to take self-portraits.
Luke and Weston wearing their monster shirts.
Buddha baby!
There's a picture of Luke wearing this same outfit as a newborn. I can't believe how much bigger Weston looks!
All this lying around and having people adore you is tiring stuff!
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Taking Time
Weston is a week old today--how can it be that already, I have to count my baby's age in weeks instead of days?
The past week has been...intense. It's so easy to forget what the early postpartum period is like, I think in part because we all like to think of ourselves as rational human beings. We do not like to remember those times when we're unreasonable for no reason, when we're exhilarated one moment and despondent the next, when we snap at the very people who are trying to help us.
It doesn't help that I remember how much more mobile I was with Luke and at an earlier point. When he was six days old, we took him to Target. This time? I spent the sixth day in bed, barely able to roll over without cringing. The thing is, this time, I came out of the birth with far less serious tearing, so you'd think that would translate to a much faster healing time, right? Right. Except that with really bad tearing and lots of stitches come the REALLY GOOD pain meds. So last time, even though my injuries were worse, I felt better sooner because my pain was pretty well managed. This time, I'm getting by on ibuprofen, when I remember to take it, and that's a good thing--I know it is--but man, prescription pain pills made a lot of difference in how I coped with life last time.
So this time, I've been completely reliant on the people around me to take care of Luke, help with Weston, even bring me food and water. It's been a humbling experience. I miss being able to make myself a cup of tea. I miss being able to take a walk around the neighborhood. Most of all, I miss being able to play with and hold and go places with Luke. But I'm trying to be patient, to give myself the time to heal, to remember that in the long run, a week really isn't that long. I'm taking this time to cuddle my baby, to trace the curve of his ear, to study his tiny fingers, to kiss his Buddha cheeks. I'm trying to be patient.
The past week has been...intense. It's so easy to forget what the early postpartum period is like, I think in part because we all like to think of ourselves as rational human beings. We do not like to remember those times when we're unreasonable for no reason, when we're exhilarated one moment and despondent the next, when we snap at the very people who are trying to help us.
It doesn't help that I remember how much more mobile I was with Luke and at an earlier point. When he was six days old, we took him to Target. This time? I spent the sixth day in bed, barely able to roll over without cringing. The thing is, this time, I came out of the birth with far less serious tearing, so you'd think that would translate to a much faster healing time, right? Right. Except that with really bad tearing and lots of stitches come the REALLY GOOD pain meds. So last time, even though my injuries were worse, I felt better sooner because my pain was pretty well managed. This time, I'm getting by on ibuprofen, when I remember to take it, and that's a good thing--I know it is--but man, prescription pain pills made a lot of difference in how I coped with life last time.
So this time, I've been completely reliant on the people around me to take care of Luke, help with Weston, even bring me food and water. It's been a humbling experience. I miss being able to make myself a cup of tea. I miss being able to take a walk around the neighborhood. Most of all, I miss being able to play with and hold and go places with Luke. But I'm trying to be patient, to give myself the time to heal, to remember that in the long run, a week really isn't that long. I'm taking this time to cuddle my baby, to trace the curve of his ear, to study his tiny fingers, to kiss his Buddha cheeks. I'm trying to be patient.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
A Birth Day
Warning: This is a birth story. If that ooks you out, I'd suggest you skip this one and check back soon for cute newborn pictures instead.
I woke up at 5 am on Saturday, thinking, "I'm in labor." There was no reason for this thought, really, but there it was, firmly entrenched in my mind. 37 minutes later, I had my first labor contraction.
My first labor had lasted 19 hours, so I expected this one to take a while, too. My midwives had warned me that second labors are usually half as long as the first, but still, that gave me a good 10 hours, so I decided I'd straighten my hair. (I know. That's an odd thing to do in labor. The first time, I shaved my legs. I don't know why, but these things feel phenomenally important to me while I'm in labor.)
The contractions had started off about 8 minutes apart, but an hour later, they were already coming every 5 minutes. This process had taken all night with Luke, but still, I figured I had plenty of time. Luke and McMoose woke up at 7:15 and when Luke came out to the living room, the first thing he said to me was, "Baby Hopper is going to come live in our house soon."
By this time, I'd figured out that humming was a great way to get through my contractions, so I hummed and danced through them and we soon called the birth center to tell them that it might be time to come in. Luke was going to be staying with Other Baby during the birth, so we called Other Baby's mom. Since my timing is phenomenal, it was Other Baby's birthday, so his mom had to pause her party preparations to come get Luke. I briefly considered taking Luke to their house and dropping him off, but soon realized that would probably be unpleasant--and thank goodness I came to that conclusion!
Other Baby's mom came at about 9 am and took Luke and after a brief detour to take the Dog to the kennel, we headed off to the birth center. The ride to the birth center was, to put it mildly, hellish. Luckily, the contractions slowed down a little bit. Before we left home, they were coming every 2 minutes or even more frequently, but in the car, they came about every 6 minutes. Since it was hard to get through them while strapped in a seated position, I was very grateful for the break.
We got to the birth center at 9:50 and I was very excited to get out of the car. As soon as we got into our room, the midwife offered to check me, and I was curious how far along I was, so I agreed, fully expecting her to say I was 4-5 centimeters dilated. Imagine my surprise when she said I was already at 9 cm!
I walked around and hummed through a couple more contractions, then they tried to put in an IV so I could get some antibiotics I needed. Attempt 1 while I was mid-contraction: fail. Attempt 2 while I was mid-contraction: fail. At this point, I pretty much asked the midwife what exactly the point was, since the antibiotics come in two doses 4 hours apart and we were all pretty certain the baby would be born much sooner than that. She replied that at least we could get the first dose in, but suggested that I get into the tub, so at least the contractions would be more manageable. I agreed and OH MY GRACIOUS, that was the best decision ever. I can't even describe how good it felt to be in that warm water, but I would have done some serious harm to anyone who suggested I get out.
They finally managed to put in an IV and at some point, I yelled about feeling a lot of pressure and my water broke at 10:17. The contractions got slightly easier after that for a little bit, but soon, I started pushing. One of the things I'd asked my midwives was to not coach me through pushing because I think intense coaching last time led to some problems and the midwife was great about not coaching me. It made me a little bit nervous at the time because I felt like I didn't know what I was doing, but apparently, my body had it under control.
I was still on my hands and knees in the tub, so the midwife said that as soon as the baby was born, she'd pass him under my belly and up to my arms, but that plan didn't quite work out. By this point, I really just wanted someone to GET HIM OUT, a desire which I made known loudly, so the nurse got down beside me and told me that his head was out and I needed to push NOW to get the rest of his body out. I did, although in my head, I still felt like it was an awful lot to ask, and I remember actually feeling the rest of him be born. Can I just say what a weird feeling that was? I don't remember this part of my labor with Luke and I'm amazed that I still remember it this time.
At 11:13 am, Weston Vishal came into the world in a bathtub of warm water. He looked like a baby Buddha, which is why his current nickname is Buddha-Bu. I moved to the bed for some stitches (which took about 20 minutes this time, as opposed to 90 last time), during which time we all guessed how much he'd weigh. Turns out he weighed 9 lbs, 6 oz and was 22 inches long, with a 14 inch head. I'm still amazed at how much easier the labor and delivery were with my 9+ lb baby than with my 7+ lb baby...how is that even possible?
We've all spent the past week dealing with the ups and downs of life with a newborn and the postpartum recovery period, but McMoose, Luke, and I are completely captivated by this new addition to our family and are so happy to finally get to know him.
I woke up at 5 am on Saturday, thinking, "I'm in labor." There was no reason for this thought, really, but there it was, firmly entrenched in my mind. 37 minutes later, I had my first labor contraction.
My first labor had lasted 19 hours, so I expected this one to take a while, too. My midwives had warned me that second labors are usually half as long as the first, but still, that gave me a good 10 hours, so I decided I'd straighten my hair. (I know. That's an odd thing to do in labor. The first time, I shaved my legs. I don't know why, but these things feel phenomenally important to me while I'm in labor.)
The contractions had started off about 8 minutes apart, but an hour later, they were already coming every 5 minutes. This process had taken all night with Luke, but still, I figured I had plenty of time. Luke and McMoose woke up at 7:15 and when Luke came out to the living room, the first thing he said to me was, "Baby Hopper is going to come live in our house soon."
By this time, I'd figured out that humming was a great way to get through my contractions, so I hummed and danced through them and we soon called the birth center to tell them that it might be time to come in. Luke was going to be staying with Other Baby during the birth, so we called Other Baby's mom. Since my timing is phenomenal, it was Other Baby's birthday, so his mom had to pause her party preparations to come get Luke. I briefly considered taking Luke to their house and dropping him off, but soon realized that would probably be unpleasant--and thank goodness I came to that conclusion!
Other Baby's mom came at about 9 am and took Luke and after a brief detour to take the Dog to the kennel, we headed off to the birth center. The ride to the birth center was, to put it mildly, hellish. Luckily, the contractions slowed down a little bit. Before we left home, they were coming every 2 minutes or even more frequently, but in the car, they came about every 6 minutes. Since it was hard to get through them while strapped in a seated position, I was very grateful for the break.
We got to the birth center at 9:50 and I was very excited to get out of the car. As soon as we got into our room, the midwife offered to check me, and I was curious how far along I was, so I agreed, fully expecting her to say I was 4-5 centimeters dilated. Imagine my surprise when she said I was already at 9 cm!
I walked around and hummed through a couple more contractions, then they tried to put in an IV so I could get some antibiotics I needed. Attempt 1 while I was mid-contraction: fail. Attempt 2 while I was mid-contraction: fail. At this point, I pretty much asked the midwife what exactly the point was, since the antibiotics come in two doses 4 hours apart and we were all pretty certain the baby would be born much sooner than that. She replied that at least we could get the first dose in, but suggested that I get into the tub, so at least the contractions would be more manageable. I agreed and OH MY GRACIOUS, that was the best decision ever. I can't even describe how good it felt to be in that warm water, but I would have done some serious harm to anyone who suggested I get out.
They finally managed to put in an IV and at some point, I yelled about feeling a lot of pressure and my water broke at 10:17. The contractions got slightly easier after that for a little bit, but soon, I started pushing. One of the things I'd asked my midwives was to not coach me through pushing because I think intense coaching last time led to some problems and the midwife was great about not coaching me. It made me a little bit nervous at the time because I felt like I didn't know what I was doing, but apparently, my body had it under control.
I was still on my hands and knees in the tub, so the midwife said that as soon as the baby was born, she'd pass him under my belly and up to my arms, but that plan didn't quite work out. By this point, I really just wanted someone to GET HIM OUT, a desire which I made known loudly, so the nurse got down beside me and told me that his head was out and I needed to push NOW to get the rest of his body out. I did, although in my head, I still felt like it was an awful lot to ask, and I remember actually feeling the rest of him be born. Can I just say what a weird feeling that was? I don't remember this part of my labor with Luke and I'm amazed that I still remember it this time.
At 11:13 am, Weston Vishal came into the world in a bathtub of warm water. He looked like a baby Buddha, which is why his current nickname is Buddha-Bu. I moved to the bed for some stitches (which took about 20 minutes this time, as opposed to 90 last time), during which time we all guessed how much he'd weigh. Turns out he weighed 9 lbs, 6 oz and was 22 inches long, with a 14 inch head. I'm still amazed at how much easier the labor and delivery were with my 9+ lb baby than with my 7+ lb baby...how is that even possible?
We've all spent the past week dealing with the ups and downs of life with a newborn and the postpartum recovery period, but McMoose, Luke, and I are completely captivated by this new addition to our family and are so happy to finally get to know him.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Will He Or Won't He?
When I went into labor with Luke, there was a moment, fairly early on, when I *knew* that it was different from the months and MONTHS of Braxton-Hicks contractions and that things were really getting started. There have been a couple of days recently when I thought I sensed that same difference. Obviously, my super-sensing powers must be off this time around because Hopper is still firmly entrenched on the inside, but I'm getting a little bit concerned that I might not actually know when I'm in labor for real this time. I mean, obviously, I'll know it EVENTUALLY, what with the baby coming out and all, but really, it would be nice to have a little bit more of a heads-up than that.
So at my midwife's appointment yesterday, I brought up the whole why-am-i-having-weird-pre-labor-that-seems-real issue, expecting that I'd get some reassurance and maybe some advice on favorable positions to encourage Hopper along or something. (Because the other thing that happens during these odd little bouts of pre-labor is that he moves NON-STOP for the entire 5-6 hours that it's going on. Big movements, movements that feel like he's trying to figure out how to position himself and just can't quite manage it.) Instead, I got this little nugget of wisdom: "Well, there's really not much we can do...either he'll find a way out or he won't."
Um. He won't? In what crazy, alternate universe is "he won't" even an option? I'm sure that what she actually meant was that in any given bout of pre-labor, he'll either find his way out (and be born) or he won't (and the pregnancy will continue for a few more days/weeks until he does.) But I have to admit that when she said it, I had a sudden and terrifying image of a paunchy, balding, full-grown man living in my belly 45 years from now.
So at my midwife's appointment yesterday, I brought up the whole why-am-i-having-weird-pre-labor-that-seems-real issue, expecting that I'd get some reassurance and maybe some advice on favorable positions to encourage Hopper along or something. (Because the other thing that happens during these odd little bouts of pre-labor is that he moves NON-STOP for the entire 5-6 hours that it's going on. Big movements, movements that feel like he's trying to figure out how to position himself and just can't quite manage it.) Instead, I got this little nugget of wisdom: "Well, there's really not much we can do...either he'll find a way out or he won't."
Um. He won't? In what crazy, alternate universe is "he won't" even an option? I'm sure that what she actually meant was that in any given bout of pre-labor, he'll either find his way out (and be born) or he won't (and the pregnancy will continue for a few more days/weeks until he does.) But I have to admit that when she said it, I had a sudden and terrifying image of a paunchy, balding, full-grown man living in my belly 45 years from now.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Guess what?
Conversation in a normal household:
Person 1: Guess what!
Person 2: What?
Person 1: *Tells Person 2 the news*
Conversation in my household:
McMoose: Guess what!
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: Guess what!
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: No, you say, "What?"
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: No, I say, "Guess what." You just say, "What?" Ok?
Luke: Ok.
McMoose: Guess what!
Luke: Guess what!
Another conversation in my household:
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: What?
Luke: Noooooooooo! Noooooooooo!!! NOOOOO-NOOOOO-NOOOOO!!!!
McMoose: What's wrong?
Luke: Guess whaaaaaat!!!!
McMoose: What?
Luke: NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! GUESS WHAAAAATTTT!!! AND DO NOT SAY WHAT!!!
I live with two crazy people.
Person 1: Guess what!
Person 2: What?
Person 1: *Tells Person 2 the news*
Conversation in my household:
McMoose: Guess what!
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: Guess what!
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: No, you say, "What?"
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: No, I say, "Guess what." You just say, "What?" Ok?
Luke: Ok.
McMoose: Guess what!
Luke: Guess what!
Another conversation in my household:
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: What?
Luke: Noooooooooo! Noooooooooo!!! NOOOOO-NOOOOO-NOOOOO!!!!
McMoose: What's wrong?
Luke: Guess whaaaaaat!!!!
McMoose: What?
Luke: NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! GUESS WHAAAAATTTT!!! AND DO NOT SAY WHAT!!!
I live with two crazy people.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Channeling Patience
I suck at waiting. So let's start there.
And now, let me tell you all the things I'm waiting for right now:
1. Hopper
2. A house
3. Our real estate agent to call. me. back. about an aforementioned house.
4. The chance to run out to the store because I've realized that the nasal aspirator we had when Luke was born has turned into a bath toy and we NEED another one before Hopper arrives.
5. Tomorrow morning, so that I can go to my midwife appointment and hear Hopper's heartbeat again. I know that at this point, he's so big that if I'm ever feeling uncertain about the existence of a heartbeat, I can just poke him and rest assured that when he moves indignantly away from the poke, he's probably doing just fine, but still. I like hearing the heartbeat.
6. This dumb cold I caught to go. away. I mean, really. It's the middle of summer. I'm 38 weeks pregnant. I'm 50 pounds heavier than I was 10 months ago. It's over 100 degrees outside. Do I really need to have a cold right now? Huh, UNIVERSE?
7. Did I mention the house? And the real estate agent? Who needs to CALL ME BACK?
8. The motivation to do laundry, clean the bathroom, or tidy the living and dining rooms, all of which should ideally be done before Hopper gets here.
9. McMoose to be done working. Not so much because I need help with anything, but just because I need to look at a living, breathing human being and make this noise: AAAUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH. Because I. hate. waiting. (And now, I'm guessing that if McMoose reads this post before the end of the day, he might just invent some extra work for himself to do so that he doesn't have to listen to me making that noise all evening long.) (And also, I made that noise at Luke before he went down for his nap. He looked up from the lego zoo he was building, grinned, and said, "Mama, you are being loud." Kid, let me tell you about the pot who called the kettle black.)
And now, let me tell you all the things I'm waiting for right now:
1. Hopper
2. A house
3. Our real estate agent to call. me. back. about an aforementioned house.
4. The chance to run out to the store because I've realized that the nasal aspirator we had when Luke was born has turned into a bath toy and we NEED another one before Hopper arrives.
5. Tomorrow morning, so that I can go to my midwife appointment and hear Hopper's heartbeat again. I know that at this point, he's so big that if I'm ever feeling uncertain about the existence of a heartbeat, I can just poke him and rest assured that when he moves indignantly away from the poke, he's probably doing just fine, but still. I like hearing the heartbeat.
6. This dumb cold I caught to go. away. I mean, really. It's the middle of summer. I'm 38 weeks pregnant. I'm 50 pounds heavier than I was 10 months ago. It's over 100 degrees outside. Do I really need to have a cold right now? Huh, UNIVERSE?
7. Did I mention the house? And the real estate agent? Who needs to CALL ME BACK?
8. The motivation to do laundry, clean the bathroom, or tidy the living and dining rooms, all of which should ideally be done before Hopper gets here.
9. McMoose to be done working. Not so much because I need help with anything, but just because I need to look at a living, breathing human being and make this noise: AAAUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH. Because I. hate. waiting. (And now, I'm guessing that if McMoose reads this post before the end of the day, he might just invent some extra work for himself to do so that he doesn't have to listen to me making that noise all evening long.) (And also, I made that noise at Luke before he went down for his nap. He looked up from the lego zoo he was building, grinned, and said, "Mama, you are being loud." Kid, let me tell you about the pot who called the kettle black.)
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