Thursday, August 15, 2013
August 15, 2013
My maternity leave officially ends on Monday, and today is Thursday. I'm so sad; I'm heartbroken. I'm trying to be strong. I know I've done this before, and I have no choice. Lucia has grown into a smart and funny, confident and easygoing child. I know Lorenzo will be okay. He will be with his sister all day, and she has assured me that she will hold his hand, help with diapers/bottles, kiss him. She will be his big sister and his friend. It does help a little to know she is there but I'm still so sad. I can't imagine how hard it will be to leave them both there and drive away. I am trying to think of positives: I like Miss Cassandra, and I know she won't throw out breastmilk unless she has to. The kids are together. I'm not that far away if there is an emergency or if I miss them too much. Lucia's been really happy there so far. Still, he's only 8 weeks old today. It's so heartbreaking to think of leaving him for any length of time. He's always had me nearby, so close to him. I've enjoyed our bonding, skin to skin, snuggling, breastfeeding. I'll miss him and he'll miss me. How did this time pass so fast? It's cruel. Also I am not looking forward to getting us all out the door in the morning, being coherent enough for work, pumping at work, the dinner/bedtime routine. Feeling overwhelmed and anxious about all of the logistics. I know somehow we will manage, and I know some day it will feel like second nature, it will get easier to leave him. But right now, yeah, it just sucks. I'm trying to not think about it but it's approaching fast and I have to. I know many of us are working moms, and we've all been through it. That first day though - wow, it's going to hurt like hell.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
August 7, 2013
Lorenzo is 7 weeks old. I finally had my postpartum appointment with the OB and through some miracle avoided the pelvic exam. I had given that some level of anxiety and because of my insurance get to postpone it a few more months. Finally feeling a little bit like myself - was able to go out and exercise, take Lorenzo for a walk around the neighborhood. He slept and snored, so I'm assuming he enjoyed it thoroughly. It was't too hot here, cloudy but not with a threat of rain. It was good to get out for a bit. I do feel a bit sore now but no pain at the time. I'll just have to ease into moving more and more. It's hard to be patient, it's not one of my strong points. Yet, as I constantly remind Lucia lately, it's important to be patient. She finishes one thing and is so ready to be on to the next. She barely pauses in between to breathe and hates cleaning up what she was doing - mealtime, playtime, etc. She's on to the next. She loves discussing her schedule with me - always thinking ahead: "first I'll eat dinner, then play for a bit, then take a bath, and then... what next mommy?" As I was weighed at this appointment, it is challenging to not dwell on that number, obsess over that high number. As I get undressed every day I stare with more shock and horror than anything else at my own reflection. I try so hard to not express this aloud to anyone, especially to Lucia. I don't want her to have body shame, or at least not give her any from me. If she picks it up i want to help her fight it and not add to the equation. My mother was always making me feel awful about how I looked, very critical of herself and of me. If I teach her nothing else, I will make it my mission to raise her to be accepting of her body and although she will feel insecure, especially during puberty (everyone does), I want to keep these anxieties at a normal level. No self loathing or hatred. So with that in mind, I remember when she saw me changing on Monday and saw my saggy tummy and she just said baby's out now, he's on the bed. This was my opportunity to show her that yes, baby was in there and now he's out. And that's the focus. I didn't use the "fat" word, just watched her try to wrap her head around it - belly was so big, full of an active, growing baby, and now he was out, sleeping on my bed, breathing, with a head full of hair and cute smiling lips. I tried to remember that miracle is the point, the reason for it all. Yes, my body's changed, and here is my chance to show Lucia how you can handle these things in a healthy way. Focus on the end result - this beautiful, healthy baby boy. This has become my mission of late. The more I try to exude a level of confidence and acceptance, I hope that she picks up on it, even in some degree. I hope I never use the word fat about myself around her, but at least fake it when I have to. Fake it until I make it. It's not phony, it's what you do, put on a brave face, convince your daughter and in the process start to make yourself believe it. I try to see my saggy belly and heavier body with more compassion and acceptance. It's not easy. I can reassure myself that I lost the weight after Lucia and I will again. That it was all worth it to grow these beautiful children. My life is full of so much more love since Lorenzo was born. It's multiplied, and today is one of the first days where I feel more awake even though I'm sleep deprived. I feel more myself again, even though I'm sore from a short walk. I'm getting better and putting Lorenzo down to take a nap by himself, instead of snuggling 24/7 and being reluctant to let him go for even a minute. I get even more happy when he awakens and is ready for a snuggly feeding and some post feeding smiles and giggles. My leave is almost over and it's sad, but I'm grateful for this time, for just time to lie here and stare at him and kiss him and snuggle with him, smell his baby smell and hold him close. I got through it before and it will totally suck but I'll get through it. It's not worth making myself feel lousy - it is not my ideal but it's life, and I'll get through it, trying to show Lucia a strong example along the way.
July 24, 2013
I'm not very consistent, clearly, but I'd like to recap. Baby #2 is here, and he's a beautiful, happy, healthy boy: Lorenzo Francis, born 6/18/13, 12:57pm, 8lbs 6oz. I'd like to capture his birth story, because it is so dramatically different than his sister's.
His csection date was scheduled weeks in advance. I had decided to opt out of the amnio to be done at 37 weeks and see how he was developing. I scheduled for 38weeks 4days, Lucia's exact gestation. I was afraid to go one day later. I was honestly afraid of going into labor earlier. I wanted everything to be as planned, no hiccups, no issues, NO surprise. What I didn't anticipate, however, was how much anxiety would mount prior to that date, with all of the weeks in between scheduling and d-day. Every day I worried. I had a daily panic attack, freaking out that movement had surely decreased. It hadn't. I would freak out after a particularly busy afternoon, that maybe he'd moved less. It turns out afternoons are his down times. That night he would go back to kicking me so hard, I was afraid I'd find bruises in the morning. He always reassured me. I would do kick counts and realize that I had one active baby in my belly. No matter, the next day, I'd find myself in the same predicament: anxiety, freak out, kick count, reassurance, partial relief of anxiety, night time kickings, less anxiety, bedtime (praying to not go into labor overnight). Wake up 2 hours later for bathroom break, sip of orange juice, more anxiety and movement analysis. Repeat until 5am when I'd wake up like clockwork, alarm or not.
The day before he was born, I kept Lucia home with me. I wanted mommy/daughter time. I wanted library, ice cream, snuggles, reading, coloring. It was very hot out and I was so uncomfortable I really couldn't manage much. That morning her EI teacher was coming over for formal signing of papers to dismiss her from therapies due to her development advances. When she got to the house, I'd been battling severe anxiety, nausea, low blood sugar. She was an angel, spent time with Lucia so I could call my doctor, schedule ANOTHER ultrasound just to be sure. I dropped Lucia off at daycare for 2 hours so I could get there and back with little distraction. Then she and I went to the library, got ice cream, snuggled on the couch. I was trying to keep calm, so many emotions... I really felt scared - worried for baby, worried for delivery, worried about how another body would disrupt mine and Lucia's bond, worried about having less time for her. Worried about how she'd be with her daddy while I was in the hospital, afraid of leaving her so long, afraid I'd not be able to love this new baby as much as her. Then back to afraid of birth, fears of complications. I had another freak out that night about movement, called doctor, did a kick count and was reassured. Tucked Lucia in for the last time as an only child and cried. Tried to find composure in packing my bags. I wasn't too worried, because we live near the hospital, and Chris could bring me whatever I needed. Somehow fell asleep, woke up around 2am and ate a sandwich, because I could. It was like last call for food until after delivery.
The next morning, woke with butterflies in my stomach and more fears of movement in the shower. Got Lucia up and fed her breakfast, telling her today was baby day. She of course had to kiss my belly, talk to baby. Gave her lots of extra snuggles and cuddles. More anxiety, but we loaded up the car and off we went. I had to be at the hospital at 10am and we dropped her off at daycare, I teared up at our goodbye and hoped she would forgive me for adding on to our family, hoped she knew how much I loved her. She acted like it was business as usual, said goodbye and off we went. Got to the hospital and started to worry now about the actual surgery. Oh yeah, I was having a baby and now I had time to think about all of the things the nurse was telling me - needles, numbing, side effects. They put fetal monitors on when I first arrived and after 45 minutes or so removed them. They said he was doing so well; they weren't worried. Um. Ok, just go with it and trust them. Oh and then they decided to start surgery earlier. Again, go with it, less time to sit and freak out.
Before I had time to analyze and overthink, they wheeled me off to the OR, I took one last photo with Chris, and then they wheeled me in to prep. Everything moved quickly from that point - talking to anesthesiologist, being numbed up, laying on table, seeing my OB, talking to nurses, finally Chris came in. I was so numb that I couldn't feel myself breathing and this had to be the scariest feeling. It felt like one big panic attack. My OB kept reassuring me that my vitals were great, and yes, I was breathing. I just stared at the ceiling and told myself, "You are breathing." Seriously. This was the only way to keep calm. The actual delivery moved so much more slowly. My OB was trying to use the same incision as Lucia's, and there was scar tissue. He told me everything he was doing as he was doing it, but every few minutes I'd look at Chris and feel so nauseous yet I couldn't feel relief from deep breaths and I couldn't actually vomit because I couldn't feel myself gagging. I didn't want to turn my head but I tried to periodically do so. When it was close to delivery and my anxiety was at all time high, Chris whipped out the camera and showed me pics of Lucia from the past weekend. We distracted ourselves with her cute face and she really was an angel then, helped me stay positive.
Next thing I can remember is my OB asking if we have any last gender guesses. I felt instinctively he was a boy; Chris guessed girl. They called to Chris to show him the baby as he came out (screaming and kicking and pink) and Chris told me he was a boy, must have said it about 10x and I'm pretty sure he teared up. I saw him briefly and they took him to be cleaned up, weighed. He screamed the entire time. He was healthy, pink, full of fire and loud as could be. His apgar was 9 (Lucia's initial one was 2). Chris got to do all of the typical things including cutting his cord and starting right away with skin to skin in the hospital room while they finished up my surgery. I felt really sick, shaky, nauseous, but relieved. No matter what, I would feel better eventually and at least I knew he was here. Now we had to confirm his name, because Chris was so unconvinced that we'd have a boy, I'm not sure he had given it much thought. He just looked like a Lorenzo - little italian man with full head of dark spiky/curly hair, chubby cheeks, full of life and energy. He was brought to nurse soon after I was wheeled into my room, and it was all healthy, beautiful. We confirmed the name, made phone calls to family to spread the news, took pictures on phones, posted all over facebook. I had been adamant about not sharing his delivery date in advance. I really wanted it to be private and then just share the good news without it being put out there for everyone. And I'm glad, because it was so nice to just share our news and surprise everyone with our announcement.
From that point on, I wasn't worried at all. I was overcome with love for this perfect little prince. I couldn't stop looking at him. I realized in that moment that all of my anxieties had been for nothing. I only felt love and it felt like my heart only grew bigger, there was no shortage of love. I would soon realize the time shortage and energy shortage is no joke, but that is to be expected with a breastfeeding infant, feeding on demand (which is truly demanding). But I'm getting there. I'm starting to figure it all out, trying to feel okay with putting Lorenzo down for short periods so I can spend time with Lucia, remembering how it feels to be sleep deprived, prioritizing and shifting priorities again, fitting in what I can and being okay with that. I finally had my healing birth. I feel proud of myself for not giving up hope that I could have one. It was challenging towards the end but in the end, we made it. I think I lay there on his birthday, just staring in awe at this perfect little boy and feeling so full of joy and love. While I wish I'd had this experience with Lucia, I didn't. And she has her story and it's only fitting that the day before Lorenzo's birth she was discharged from therapy. It's all come full circle. And here we are - us plus two little babies, struggling to find a balance, juggling it all, both of us tired and weary but happy, grateful, blessed. I feel our little family is now complete. <3
I'm not very consistent, clearly, but I'd like to recap. Baby #2 is here, and he's a beautiful, happy, healthy boy: Lorenzo Francis, born 6/18/13, 12:57pm, 8lbs 6oz. I'd like to capture his birth story, because it is so dramatically different than his sister's.
His csection date was scheduled weeks in advance. I had decided to opt out of the amnio to be done at 37 weeks and see how he was developing. I scheduled for 38weeks 4days, Lucia's exact gestation. I was afraid to go one day later. I was honestly afraid of going into labor earlier. I wanted everything to be as planned, no hiccups, no issues, NO surprise. What I didn't anticipate, however, was how much anxiety would mount prior to that date, with all of the weeks in between scheduling and d-day. Every day I worried. I had a daily panic attack, freaking out that movement had surely decreased. It hadn't. I would freak out after a particularly busy afternoon, that maybe he'd moved less. It turns out afternoons are his down times. That night he would go back to kicking me so hard, I was afraid I'd find bruises in the morning. He always reassured me. I would do kick counts and realize that I had one active baby in my belly. No matter, the next day, I'd find myself in the same predicament: anxiety, freak out, kick count, reassurance, partial relief of anxiety, night time kickings, less anxiety, bedtime (praying to not go into labor overnight). Wake up 2 hours later for bathroom break, sip of orange juice, more anxiety and movement analysis. Repeat until 5am when I'd wake up like clockwork, alarm or not.
The day before he was born, I kept Lucia home with me. I wanted mommy/daughter time. I wanted library, ice cream, snuggles, reading, coloring. It was very hot out and I was so uncomfortable I really couldn't manage much. That morning her EI teacher was coming over for formal signing of papers to dismiss her from therapies due to her development advances. When she got to the house, I'd been battling severe anxiety, nausea, low blood sugar. She was an angel, spent time with Lucia so I could call my doctor, schedule ANOTHER ultrasound just to be sure. I dropped Lucia off at daycare for 2 hours so I could get there and back with little distraction. Then she and I went to the library, got ice cream, snuggled on the couch. I was trying to keep calm, so many emotions... I really felt scared - worried for baby, worried for delivery, worried about how another body would disrupt mine and Lucia's bond, worried about having less time for her. Worried about how she'd be with her daddy while I was in the hospital, afraid of leaving her so long, afraid I'd not be able to love this new baby as much as her. Then back to afraid of birth, fears of complications. I had another freak out that night about movement, called doctor, did a kick count and was reassured. Tucked Lucia in for the last time as an only child and cried. Tried to find composure in packing my bags. I wasn't too worried, because we live near the hospital, and Chris could bring me whatever I needed. Somehow fell asleep, woke up around 2am and ate a sandwich, because I could. It was like last call for food until after delivery.
The next morning, woke with butterflies in my stomach and more fears of movement in the shower. Got Lucia up and fed her breakfast, telling her today was baby day. She of course had to kiss my belly, talk to baby. Gave her lots of extra snuggles and cuddles. More anxiety, but we loaded up the car and off we went. I had to be at the hospital at 10am and we dropped her off at daycare, I teared up at our goodbye and hoped she would forgive me for adding on to our family, hoped she knew how much I loved her. She acted like it was business as usual, said goodbye and off we went. Got to the hospital and started to worry now about the actual surgery. Oh yeah, I was having a baby and now I had time to think about all of the things the nurse was telling me - needles, numbing, side effects. They put fetal monitors on when I first arrived and after 45 minutes or so removed them. They said he was doing so well; they weren't worried. Um. Ok, just go with it and trust them. Oh and then they decided to start surgery earlier. Again, go with it, less time to sit and freak out.
Before I had time to analyze and overthink, they wheeled me off to the OR, I took one last photo with Chris, and then they wheeled me in to prep. Everything moved quickly from that point - talking to anesthesiologist, being numbed up, laying on table, seeing my OB, talking to nurses, finally Chris came in. I was so numb that I couldn't feel myself breathing and this had to be the scariest feeling. It felt like one big panic attack. My OB kept reassuring me that my vitals were great, and yes, I was breathing. I just stared at the ceiling and told myself, "You are breathing." Seriously. This was the only way to keep calm. The actual delivery moved so much more slowly. My OB was trying to use the same incision as Lucia's, and there was scar tissue. He told me everything he was doing as he was doing it, but every few minutes I'd look at Chris and feel so nauseous yet I couldn't feel relief from deep breaths and I couldn't actually vomit because I couldn't feel myself gagging. I didn't want to turn my head but I tried to periodically do so. When it was close to delivery and my anxiety was at all time high, Chris whipped out the camera and showed me pics of Lucia from the past weekend. We distracted ourselves with her cute face and she really was an angel then, helped me stay positive.
Next thing I can remember is my OB asking if we have any last gender guesses. I felt instinctively he was a boy; Chris guessed girl. They called to Chris to show him the baby as he came out (screaming and kicking and pink) and Chris told me he was a boy, must have said it about 10x and I'm pretty sure he teared up. I saw him briefly and they took him to be cleaned up, weighed. He screamed the entire time. He was healthy, pink, full of fire and loud as could be. His apgar was 9 (Lucia's initial one was 2). Chris got to do all of the typical things including cutting his cord and starting right away with skin to skin in the hospital room while they finished up my surgery. I felt really sick, shaky, nauseous, but relieved. No matter what, I would feel better eventually and at least I knew he was here. Now we had to confirm his name, because Chris was so unconvinced that we'd have a boy, I'm not sure he had given it much thought. He just looked like a Lorenzo - little italian man with full head of dark spiky/curly hair, chubby cheeks, full of life and energy. He was brought to nurse soon after I was wheeled into my room, and it was all healthy, beautiful. We confirmed the name, made phone calls to family to spread the news, took pictures on phones, posted all over facebook. I had been adamant about not sharing his delivery date in advance. I really wanted it to be private and then just share the good news without it being put out there for everyone. And I'm glad, because it was so nice to just share our news and surprise everyone with our announcement.
From that point on, I wasn't worried at all. I was overcome with love for this perfect little prince. I couldn't stop looking at him. I realized in that moment that all of my anxieties had been for nothing. I only felt love and it felt like my heart only grew bigger, there was no shortage of love. I would soon realize the time shortage and energy shortage is no joke, but that is to be expected with a breastfeeding infant, feeding on demand (which is truly demanding). But I'm getting there. I'm starting to figure it all out, trying to feel okay with putting Lorenzo down for short periods so I can spend time with Lucia, remembering how it feels to be sleep deprived, prioritizing and shifting priorities again, fitting in what I can and being okay with that. I finally had my healing birth. I feel proud of myself for not giving up hope that I could have one. It was challenging towards the end but in the end, we made it. I think I lay there on his birthday, just staring in awe at this perfect little boy and feeling so full of joy and love. While I wish I'd had this experience with Lucia, I didn't. And she has her story and it's only fitting that the day before Lorenzo's birth she was discharged from therapy. It's all come full circle. And here we are - us plus two little babies, struggling to find a balance, juggling it all, both of us tired and weary but happy, grateful, blessed. I feel our little family is now complete. <3
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)