Sunday, January 23, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
A Baby Story - Olivia's Arrival
When I was in high school one of my favorite shows on TLC was "A Baby Story." For some odd reason I was always intrigued by it; maybe because I always knew I wanted kids.
Warning: Baby O's birth story is extremely long, and I may not remember everything because it's been a 5 weeks since it happened. Also, you'll probably think a lot of what's written is TMI, but oh well it's a labor and delivery story. What do you expect? lol But anyway, here goes:
I woke up at 1am on 12/15/2010 to potty like I normally did. Everyone knows that when you're 9 months pregnant late night/early morning bathroom breaks are the norm. Then I woke up again at 2am, 3am, 4am, 5am, and 6am. By the 4 o'clock trip I knew something just wasn't right. I'd never peed that much in my life, not even while pregnant.
When I awoke at 6, I felt different. My back was aching like my period was about to start. I may have been sleep-deprived, but I wasn't delusional. I knew I couldn't have a period at 9 months pregnant. Then it hit me: oh shoot, I'm in the early stages of labor. There was no other explanation for all the peeing and the back pain.
At 7am my suspicions were confirmed because I started having contractions. I told C, and he went on to work because the contractions were very sporadic. I called my mama, wished her and my daddy a happy 26th wedding anniversary, and warned her that their anniversary gift may be a granddaughter. I thought it would be beautiful to give birth to my daughter on my parents' wedding anniversary. I called my sister and my favorite cousin. Then it was time to wait for magic to happen.
Nothing major really happened, so I decided to take a nap around 2:30/3pm-ish. That's when the pain got worse, and I couldn't get comfortable at all to sleep. The back pain was major and the contractions seemed a tad bit more intense. I tried getting on my hands and knees and rocking like the instructor taught in Lamaze and it kind of helped some. I still couldn't lie down to nap though so that sucked.
I talked to my favorite cousin after my failed nap attempt and she suggested I call my doctor. I called Dr. D around 5pm, and he said to time the contractions. The contractions were all over the place. Sometimes they were 8 minutes apart, sometimes 3, sometimes 20. It was a hot mess I tell you.
At around 7pm I had my bloody show. I thought that would be my ticket to the hospital. I called my doctor back and he said it was just a very early sign of labor. I thought he was an idiot because the very early sign in my book was peeing every hour on the hour, and having all these pains for over 12 hours without a break. But what did I know?
I talked to my mama again, and she tried to convince me to go straight to the hospital despite what the doctor said. She and my dad had jumped into their truck and started making the 3-and-a-half-hour drive from my hometown. They were too ready to welcome their grandbaby into the world. All the while I was still timing contractions, and they continued to be sporadic.
Around 9 or 10pm I decided to shower just in case my water broke or my contractions got closer together in the middle of the night. My parents arrived around 11pm. I was irritable, sleepy, and in pain. I didn't feel like being bothered with anybody because I didn't think I'd ever get the green light from the doc to go to the hospital.
Around midnight or so, my parents and hubby tried to catch some sleep. I went to lie down, but I couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. I kept tracking my contractions and at 3am they started getting more regular. I called the doc and he gave me the go-ahead to come to the hospital. He said that I sounded a lot more uncomfortable from earlier, but he warned that I may be sent home if I hadn't dilated though.
I woke C to tell him the good news, and he fell right back to sleep. I woke him again, and he jumped to action. I guess it really hit him that it was time to welcome his first-born into the world. He went to wake my parents while I tried to get dressed for the hospital. I still remember what I put on: a gray thermal, some pre-pregnancy blue jeans (yeah, I'm that girl who could still wear her pre-pregnancy bottoms without unbuttoning them lol), my black fuzzy boots, a heavy black sweater ( my winter coat didn't fit over my bump), and a black and gray scarf with matching hat. I made sure to bring along a big black towel to sit on just in case my water broke in the car. Light gray seats don't go with amniotic fluid.
We left the apartment at 3:30am, and made it to the hospital in Chapel Hill at 4am. I was wheeled up to the 4th floor which was the labor and delivery floor. They took C and I to a triage room while my parents parked, found the waiting room, etc. Shortly thereafter Dr. D entered my room and I was so happy to see him. He checked me and I was at 4cm!! I was sooooooo excited that I made it all the way to 4 at home, and Dr. D was proud of me for laboring so long on my own.
The nurse strapped the monitors on me to time my contractions. They were 2-3 minutes apart. Apparently some of the pain I was feeling in my back were actually contractions. Holy back labor hell!! That's why my back was killing me.
The nurse took me to a labor and delivery room. We had only been at the hospital 20 minutes and the nurse informed me and C that it was snowing. We watched it through the window for a few minutes, and then I was given instructions to walk around with mobile monitors to track the baby's heartrate and my contractions. I was kind of bummed that I had to have an IV to drag around with me during my walk. I needed it because it had been so long since I had eaten and the doc didn't want me to become too hungry or dehydrated during labor. (Wait a minute; what happened to the you can eat and drink what you want bull the Lamaze instructor had sold me on?)
C and I walked around the halls for a little while, but we were tired of seeing the same people over and over again. We decided to go back to the room so I could walk around in there and C could rest on the sleeper sofa thingy. I walked, I changed positions, I peed every hour like my Lamaze lady instructed in class. It was around 9am or so when I was started getting hungry. Or at least I thought I was hungry, and thirsty too. I asked my doc if I could eat, and he really didn't want me to. (Once again, what happened to the you can eat and drink what you want bull I was sold on?) Finally the doc gave in and let the nurse bring me some yogurt. At least it was the good Activia yogurt I liked. The nurse sneaked me in some cereal too.
At around 10am or so, I really started feeling the pain. C helped out so much by rubbing my back and pushing on my hips every time I had a contraction. I kept having to go the bathroom every few minutes and I learned that it's true that some women really do get diarrhea during labor. I was in so much pain and so weak that it got to the point I couldn't even drag the IV contraption all the way into the bathroom to go potty. I just left the door open and embarrassed myself time and again in front of my husband. Around this time Dr. D left because his shift was over, and Dr. W came in.
I liked Dr. W because she's an African American female like me. I thought it helped us relate during my prenatal care. Dr. W checked me at around 11am to see how for I'd progressed. I was in so much excruciating pain that I winced and almost screamed. After all my walking, position changes, and constant pain, I just knew I'd have to at least be 7cm. But boy was I wrong. I was only 5cm. I thought I'd been punked!! I was in so much pain and I had been laboring for so dang long that I couldn't only be 5.
That's when I broke down and asked for meds. I didn't want an epidural because I wanted to feel my contractions and continue to walk around. I just wanted something to take the edge off. Dr. W obliged. When the doc left to order the meds, the nurse tried to convince me to get an epidural though. I thought she was crazy. Heiffer, I don't want a dang epidural!! I want to keep moving around and do this thing as natural as possible. She left the room to give me a chance to think about it.
As soon as she left the pain seemed to get worse. My contractions were literally ontop of each other with no break in between. I was tired as crap. I was thirsty and drinking so much water. C was massaging my back while I sat on the bed thinking about my pain management options. And then I started dry heaving. WTF??? I hadn't thrown up in over 10 years. Why the heck was I about to do it then? C grabbed the plastic vomit-catcher thingy and told me it was ok to go ahead and throw up. I didn't want to. I hate throwing up. I have like this weird fear of choking on vomit, so I don't throw up ever. But ummm, yeah, all that ended because the pain was too much and all the water I had drunk was on an escape mission. So once again I embarrassed myself in front of my husband. He didn't mind though. He just kept rubbing my back to try to make me feel better.
The nurse came back and I told her I wanted an epidural. There went my med-free birth plan right out the dang window. She told I had been doing wonderfully without meds, and that she was proud of me. But she also said that I was tired and the epidural would give me a chance to rest and to progress more because my body would be relaxed. Was she ever right!! Although I almost f---ed myself up by jumping during the epidural (there was a sharp pain that caught me offguard), when that thing went into effect it was the most amazing feeling ever! I thought I was in heaven. I turned into a completely different person. It was like the irritability I'd had for hours suddenly went away. I took a nap and everything. It was just a catnap, but I didn't care.
That epidural definitely worked wonders and by 5pm I was 8cm dilated. Every once in a while the nurse would come into change my position in the bed. It was a little strange because every time I was put on my right side, my baby's heartrate was drop. The doctors decided that I would have to stay on my left side. I didn't mind because the sleeper sofa C was resting on was to my left and so was the window. I was 10 cm by 8pm, and at some point around that time I was given oxygen. I really don't remember why I was given the oxygen, but it didn't bother me. My contractions stopped around this same time, and my water bag was still intact. The doctors wanted me to "labor down" so they let me be until about 9pm. At that time they decided to break my water, but as soon as they attempted to insert the tool they use for breaking water, my water broke on its own. Unfortunately there was meconium in the water. They said it wasn't cause for too much alarm and that instead of having skin-to-skin contact with Baby O right away, I'd have to wait for her her lungs to be suctioned out.
Finally it was time to push, and at this point I still hadn't had any substantial sleep so I was really tired. The nurse who was on duty at this point was not very friendly. She kept yelling at me when I was pushing like I wasn't doing it right. I kept asking the doctor if I was pushing ok because I felt like I wasn't making any progress. The doctors left the room to monitor me some more. Little did I know that every time I pushed, my daughter's heartrate was dropping drastically. She was in distress. I was scared.
When it was all said and done, I had pushed for about 40 minutes or so. My doctor and the midwife called in another doctor to get a second opinion after it was determined that something else had to be done. The new doctor was an OB-GYN, not a family medicine doctor like Dr. D and Dr. W. She felt around in my pelvis, had me practice a push, and she and the other docs left the room to get yet another opinion. At this point I'm thinking WTF.
They came back in and the OB doc told me that she talked it over with someone with more experience and they decided that using a vacuum or forceps to deliver Baby O was out of the question. Apparently at this point everyone really wanted me to have a vaginal delivery, but it was impossible. The OB said there were two bones in my pelvis that prevented my baby from progressing down my birth canal. Every time I pushed she hit the bones, which caused her to go into distress. So it was time for my emergency c-section.
Everything happened so fast after this. I was scared as hell. I'd never spent the night in a hospital before, so of course I'd never had major surgery. C had to stay in the labor and delivery room to dress in his scrubs as I was wheeled to the OR. There seemed to be so many people in the room when I arrived. They were prepping things, joking around, hanging out, and having a good ol' time. At least someone was because I definitely wasn't.
It seemed like it took forever for C to get to the room. Before he got there I was given extra anesthesia to numb more of my body in my epidural catheter. My regular catheter was replaced ( I needed it after getting the epidural, but it was removed when I started pushing). I could feel the pressure of people touching me and patting me down, but it didn't hurt at all. It was such a weird feeling. And I was still so scared. There was a nurse by my side from the time I was wheeled into the room and she kept me sane while I was poked and prodded on in preparation for the surgery. She explained stuff to me and she warned me that some people get the shakes after taking a certain medicine I had to swallow. I was shaking like a crackhead feening for his next hit after taking that medicine, and I was so cold! She was nice enough to get me 3 blankets while I felt like my body was going into shock. C finally arrived and it was time to get the show on the road. At this point I think I started blocking out stuff. All I know is that I was squeezing C's hand with my left hand and holding on to my angel nurse's hand with my right. (I call her an angel nurse because she really seemed like an angel sent to protect me during the c-section. She was so sweet.)
Before I knew it my baby girl was out of my womb and C was saying how pretty she was. He had such a huge smile on his face to see his daughter, and all I could muster was "does she have hair?" C confirmed that she indeed had lots of hair. The NICU doctors were in the room to look my baby girl over and suction the meconium out of her lungs. That's when we heard her first precious cries. My baby had some strong lungs from the start. They announced her birth weight: 5lbs 13oz and the time: 10:11pm. They wrapped my little darling up and handed her to her proud daddy. He didn't want to let go of her, and he didn't for a long time.
After I was sewn up, they wheeled me to recovery and C got to wheel our baby to the room also. Initially, she was suppose to go to the NICU because of the distress and meconium, but I gave birth to a strong little woman who needed none of that. I was so happy, but so sad at the same time. I was sad because I didn't get to hold my daughter until a couple hours later. I didn't get to feed her from my breast till a few minutes after I first held her. The only reason I even got to hold her when I did was because I had finally been taken to my post partum room on the 5th floor, C had collapsed into a deep sleep on his new sleeper-sofa, and the nurse wanted me to change my daughter's first poopy diaper.
Tada! That was my birthing experience. It didn't go as planned, but what ever does? Kudos to you who made it to the end. :)
Warning: Baby O's birth story is extremely long, and I may not remember everything because it's been a 5 weeks since it happened. Also, you'll probably think a lot of what's written is TMI, but oh well it's a labor and delivery story. What do you expect? lol But anyway, here goes:
I woke up at 1am on 12/15/2010 to potty like I normally did. Everyone knows that when you're 9 months pregnant late night/early morning bathroom breaks are the norm. Then I woke up again at 2am, 3am, 4am, 5am, and 6am. By the 4 o'clock trip I knew something just wasn't right. I'd never peed that much in my life, not even while pregnant.
When I awoke at 6, I felt different. My back was aching like my period was about to start. I may have been sleep-deprived, but I wasn't delusional. I knew I couldn't have a period at 9 months pregnant. Then it hit me: oh shoot, I'm in the early stages of labor. There was no other explanation for all the peeing and the back pain.
At 7am my suspicions were confirmed because I started having contractions. I told C, and he went on to work because the contractions were very sporadic. I called my mama, wished her and my daddy a happy 26th wedding anniversary, and warned her that their anniversary gift may be a granddaughter. I thought it would be beautiful to give birth to my daughter on my parents' wedding anniversary. I called my sister and my favorite cousin. Then it was time to wait for magic to happen.
Nothing major really happened, so I decided to take a nap around 2:30/3pm-ish. That's when the pain got worse, and I couldn't get comfortable at all to sleep. The back pain was major and the contractions seemed a tad bit more intense. I tried getting on my hands and knees and rocking like the instructor taught in Lamaze and it kind of helped some. I still couldn't lie down to nap though so that sucked.
I talked to my favorite cousin after my failed nap attempt and she suggested I call my doctor. I called Dr. D around 5pm, and he said to time the contractions. The contractions were all over the place. Sometimes they were 8 minutes apart, sometimes 3, sometimes 20. It was a hot mess I tell you.
At around 7pm I had my bloody show. I thought that would be my ticket to the hospital. I called my doctor back and he said it was just a very early sign of labor. I thought he was an idiot because the very early sign in my book was peeing every hour on the hour, and having all these pains for over 12 hours without a break. But what did I know?
I talked to my mama again, and she tried to convince me to go straight to the hospital despite what the doctor said. She and my dad had jumped into their truck and started making the 3-and-a-half-hour drive from my hometown. They were too ready to welcome their grandbaby into the world. All the while I was still timing contractions, and they continued to be sporadic.
Around 9 or 10pm I decided to shower just in case my water broke or my contractions got closer together in the middle of the night. My parents arrived around 11pm. I was irritable, sleepy, and in pain. I didn't feel like being bothered with anybody because I didn't think I'd ever get the green light from the doc to go to the hospital.
Around midnight or so, my parents and hubby tried to catch some sleep. I went to lie down, but I couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. I kept tracking my contractions and at 3am they started getting more regular. I called the doc and he gave me the go-ahead to come to the hospital. He said that I sounded a lot more uncomfortable from earlier, but he warned that I may be sent home if I hadn't dilated though.
I woke C to tell him the good news, and he fell right back to sleep. I woke him again, and he jumped to action. I guess it really hit him that it was time to welcome his first-born into the world. He went to wake my parents while I tried to get dressed for the hospital. I still remember what I put on: a gray thermal, some pre-pregnancy blue jeans (yeah, I'm that girl who could still wear her pre-pregnancy bottoms without unbuttoning them lol), my black fuzzy boots, a heavy black sweater ( my winter coat didn't fit over my bump), and a black and gray scarf with matching hat. I made sure to bring along a big black towel to sit on just in case my water broke in the car. Light gray seats don't go with amniotic fluid.
We left the apartment at 3:30am, and made it to the hospital in Chapel Hill at 4am. I was wheeled up to the 4th floor which was the labor and delivery floor. They took C and I to a triage room while my parents parked, found the waiting room, etc. Shortly thereafter Dr. D entered my room and I was so happy to see him. He checked me and I was at 4cm!! I was sooooooo excited that I made it all the way to 4 at home, and Dr. D was proud of me for laboring so long on my own.
The nurse strapped the monitors on me to time my contractions. They were 2-3 minutes apart. Apparently some of the pain I was feeling in my back were actually contractions. Holy back labor hell!! That's why my back was killing me.
The nurse took me to a labor and delivery room. We had only been at the hospital 20 minutes and the nurse informed me and C that it was snowing. We watched it through the window for a few minutes, and then I was given instructions to walk around with mobile monitors to track the baby's heartrate and my contractions. I was kind of bummed that I had to have an IV to drag around with me during my walk. I needed it because it had been so long since I had eaten and the doc didn't want me to become too hungry or dehydrated during labor. (Wait a minute; what happened to the you can eat and drink what you want bull the Lamaze instructor had sold me on?)
C and I walked around the halls for a little while, but we were tired of seeing the same people over and over again. We decided to go back to the room so I could walk around in there and C could rest on the sleeper sofa thingy. I walked, I changed positions, I peed every hour like my Lamaze lady instructed in class. It was around 9am or so when I was started getting hungry. Or at least I thought I was hungry, and thirsty too. I asked my doc if I could eat, and he really didn't want me to. (Once again, what happened to the you can eat and drink what you want bull I was sold on?) Finally the doc gave in and let the nurse bring me some yogurt. At least it was the good Activia yogurt I liked. The nurse sneaked me in some cereal too.
At around 10am or so, I really started feeling the pain. C helped out so much by rubbing my back and pushing on my hips every time I had a contraction. I kept having to go the bathroom every few minutes and I learned that it's true that some women really do get diarrhea during labor. I was in so much pain and so weak that it got to the point I couldn't even drag the IV contraption all the way into the bathroom to go potty. I just left the door open and embarrassed myself time and again in front of my husband. Around this time Dr. D left because his shift was over, and Dr. W came in.
I liked Dr. W because she's an African American female like me. I thought it helped us relate during my prenatal care. Dr. W checked me at around 11am to see how for I'd progressed. I was in so much excruciating pain that I winced and almost screamed. After all my walking, position changes, and constant pain, I just knew I'd have to at least be 7cm. But boy was I wrong. I was only 5cm. I thought I'd been punked!! I was in so much pain and I had been laboring for so dang long that I couldn't only be 5.
That's when I broke down and asked for meds. I didn't want an epidural because I wanted to feel my contractions and continue to walk around. I just wanted something to take the edge off. Dr. W obliged. When the doc left to order the meds, the nurse tried to convince me to get an epidural though. I thought she was crazy. Heiffer, I don't want a dang epidural!! I want to keep moving around and do this thing as natural as possible. She left the room to give me a chance to think about it.
As soon as she left the pain seemed to get worse. My contractions were literally ontop of each other with no break in between. I was tired as crap. I was thirsty and drinking so much water. C was massaging my back while I sat on the bed thinking about my pain management options. And then I started dry heaving. WTF??? I hadn't thrown up in over 10 years. Why the heck was I about to do it then? C grabbed the plastic vomit-catcher thingy and told me it was ok to go ahead and throw up. I didn't want to. I hate throwing up. I have like this weird fear of choking on vomit, so I don't throw up ever. But ummm, yeah, all that ended because the pain was too much and all the water I had drunk was on an escape mission. So once again I embarrassed myself in front of my husband. He didn't mind though. He just kept rubbing my back to try to make me feel better.
The nurse came back and I told her I wanted an epidural. There went my med-free birth plan right out the dang window. She told I had been doing wonderfully without meds, and that she was proud of me. But she also said that I was tired and the epidural would give me a chance to rest and to progress more because my body would be relaxed. Was she ever right!! Although I almost f---ed myself up by jumping during the epidural (there was a sharp pain that caught me offguard), when that thing went into effect it was the most amazing feeling ever! I thought I was in heaven. I turned into a completely different person. It was like the irritability I'd had for hours suddenly went away. I took a nap and everything. It was just a catnap, but I didn't care.
That epidural definitely worked wonders and by 5pm I was 8cm dilated. Every once in a while the nurse would come into change my position in the bed. It was a little strange because every time I was put on my right side, my baby's heartrate was drop. The doctors decided that I would have to stay on my left side. I didn't mind because the sleeper sofa C was resting on was to my left and so was the window. I was 10 cm by 8pm, and at some point around that time I was given oxygen. I really don't remember why I was given the oxygen, but it didn't bother me. My contractions stopped around this same time, and my water bag was still intact. The doctors wanted me to "labor down" so they let me be until about 9pm. At that time they decided to break my water, but as soon as they attempted to insert the tool they use for breaking water, my water broke on its own. Unfortunately there was meconium in the water. They said it wasn't cause for too much alarm and that instead of having skin-to-skin contact with Baby O right away, I'd have to wait for her her lungs to be suctioned out.
Finally it was time to push, and at this point I still hadn't had any substantial sleep so I was really tired. The nurse who was on duty at this point was not very friendly. She kept yelling at me when I was pushing like I wasn't doing it right. I kept asking the doctor if I was pushing ok because I felt like I wasn't making any progress. The doctors left the room to monitor me some more. Little did I know that every time I pushed, my daughter's heartrate was dropping drastically. She was in distress. I was scared.
When it was all said and done, I had pushed for about 40 minutes or so. My doctor and the midwife called in another doctor to get a second opinion after it was determined that something else had to be done. The new doctor was an OB-GYN, not a family medicine doctor like Dr. D and Dr. W. She felt around in my pelvis, had me practice a push, and she and the other docs left the room to get yet another opinion. At this point I'm thinking WTF.
They came back in and the OB doc told me that she talked it over with someone with more experience and they decided that using a vacuum or forceps to deliver Baby O was out of the question. Apparently at this point everyone really wanted me to have a vaginal delivery, but it was impossible. The OB said there were two bones in my pelvis that prevented my baby from progressing down my birth canal. Every time I pushed she hit the bones, which caused her to go into distress. So it was time for my emergency c-section.
Everything happened so fast after this. I was scared as hell. I'd never spent the night in a hospital before, so of course I'd never had major surgery. C had to stay in the labor and delivery room to dress in his scrubs as I was wheeled to the OR. There seemed to be so many people in the room when I arrived. They were prepping things, joking around, hanging out, and having a good ol' time. At least someone was because I definitely wasn't.
It seemed like it took forever for C to get to the room. Before he got there I was given extra anesthesia to numb more of my body in my epidural catheter. My regular catheter was replaced ( I needed it after getting the epidural, but it was removed when I started pushing). I could feel the pressure of people touching me and patting me down, but it didn't hurt at all. It was such a weird feeling. And I was still so scared. There was a nurse by my side from the time I was wheeled into the room and she kept me sane while I was poked and prodded on in preparation for the surgery. She explained stuff to me and she warned me that some people get the shakes after taking a certain medicine I had to swallow. I was shaking like a crackhead feening for his next hit after taking that medicine, and I was so cold! She was nice enough to get me 3 blankets while I felt like my body was going into shock. C finally arrived and it was time to get the show on the road. At this point I think I started blocking out stuff. All I know is that I was squeezing C's hand with my left hand and holding on to my angel nurse's hand with my right. (I call her an angel nurse because she really seemed like an angel sent to protect me during the c-section. She was so sweet.)
Before I knew it my baby girl was out of my womb and C was saying how pretty she was. He had such a huge smile on his face to see his daughter, and all I could muster was "does she have hair?" C confirmed that she indeed had lots of hair. The NICU doctors were in the room to look my baby girl over and suction the meconium out of her lungs. That's when we heard her first precious cries. My baby had some strong lungs from the start. They announced her birth weight: 5lbs 13oz and the time: 10:11pm. They wrapped my little darling up and handed her to her proud daddy. He didn't want to let go of her, and he didn't for a long time.
After I was sewn up, they wheeled me to recovery and C got to wheel our baby to the room also. Initially, she was suppose to go to the NICU because of the distress and meconium, but I gave birth to a strong little woman who needed none of that. I was so happy, but so sad at the same time. I was sad because I didn't get to hold my daughter until a couple hours later. I didn't get to feed her from my breast till a few minutes after I first held her. The only reason I even got to hold her when I did was because I had finally been taken to my post partum room on the 5th floor, C had collapsed into a deep sleep on his new sleeper-sofa, and the nurse wanted me to change my daughter's first poopy diaper.
Tada! That was my birthing experience. It didn't go as planned, but what ever does? Kudos to you who made it to the end. :)
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Birth Plan
When I found out I was expecting I made a conscious effort to find the right doctor who delivered at the right hospital so I could have as close to an ideal birth as I desired. Ideally, I wanted a water birth; I always have. But given certain circumstances that was out of the question. So the next best thing was a med-free, intervention-free birth.
Although I live in Durham, I decided to go to Chapel Hill for my prenatal care. Everyone knows that the Duke Healthcare system runs everything medical in Durham, and I don't like the way they handle things. The doctors don't seem to genuinely care about the patients, and they're always experimenting on people.
All the things I heard about the UNC healthcare system made me appreciate my decision more. According to my Lamaze instructor, UNC had a 16% c-section rate, which is very low compared to other hospitals. Also, the Lamaze lady said you could eat during labor, they encouraged you to walk around during labor, and they're big proponents of breastfeeding after delivery.
My plan was to labor as long as possible at home. Then when it was time to go to the hospital to continue laboring naturally without any meds and with my husband supporting me through everything. We learned many techniques to deal with pain during Lamaze, and I made up my mind that I would do everything possible to stay away from an evil epidural and other unnatural pain management aids. In my mind things were going to be perfect: I would deliver my baby girl naturally, have her placed on my chest, and breastfeed right away.
The plans were set, and everyone was onboard with the plan: my husband, my team of 3 doctors, my lactation consultant, and anyone else with vested interest.
But like I've said before, if you want to make God laugh tell him your plans...
(Up next: A Baby Story)
Although I live in Durham, I decided to go to Chapel Hill for my prenatal care. Everyone knows that the Duke Healthcare system runs everything medical in Durham, and I don't like the way they handle things. The doctors don't seem to genuinely care about the patients, and they're always experimenting on people.
All the things I heard about the UNC healthcare system made me appreciate my decision more. According to my Lamaze instructor, UNC had a 16% c-section rate, which is very low compared to other hospitals. Also, the Lamaze lady said you could eat during labor, they encouraged you to walk around during labor, and they're big proponents of breastfeeding after delivery.
My plan was to labor as long as possible at home. Then when it was time to go to the hospital to continue laboring naturally without any meds and with my husband supporting me through everything. We learned many techniques to deal with pain during Lamaze, and I made up my mind that I would do everything possible to stay away from an evil epidural and other unnatural pain management aids. In my mind things were going to be perfect: I would deliver my baby girl naturally, have her placed on my chest, and breastfeed right away.
The plans were set, and everyone was onboard with the plan: my husband, my team of 3 doctors, my lactation consultant, and anyone else with vested interest.
But like I've said before, if you want to make God laugh tell him your plans...
(Up next: A Baby Story)
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Wedding Plans
I've heard it said that if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. I never understood that saying until after I was engaged.
C and I planned to get married July 2, 2011. It was going to be a long engagement: 23 months to be exact. I wanted to wait till after I graduated from grad school and C wanted to wait till we were more stable.
In retrospect, I always knew we wouldn't make it till the summer of 2011 to be married. Secretly I wanted to get married in the summer of 2010, but it seemed too soon. We needed to make sure everything was perfect and in order before we got married. I wanted to have my Master's degree . We both wanted to have our wedding savings together months in advance so we wouldn't have to struggle planning the wedding.
By nature I'm a planner. So by January 2010, I had my wedding dress picked out. On February 3, 2010, I went to look at the dress and somehow ended up purchasing it. It didn't make sense when my wedding was well over a year away. What if I lost or gained weight or changed my mind? I had bought a discontinued dress that couldn't even be returned, but I loved it. I told myself that the dress purchase would help the rest of the planning process. I wouldn't have to worry about that part anymore and I could go on to the rest of it and spread it out more. But I didn't spread it out more. In March, C and I started looking at venues near my hometown, which is a 3 hour drive from Durham. It was kind of insane because my life was consumed with planning a wedding that was a year and a half away.
By the end of March 2010 I had purchased wedding day accessories like a ring bearer pillow and flower girl basket. I had bought invitation kits and favor boxes. I even started experimenting with DIY projects like centerpieces. I don't know if it was because I was depressed from being laid off from work, bored out of my mind, or just crazy. But wedding planning was my life.
Then April 20, 2010, happened. It wasn't in my plans, but I now know it was in God's. It was that day that I discovered I was expecting my precious baby O, whom I nicknamed Peanut. That day marked a change of plans. C and I decided to move our wedding up. It caught everyone offguard, but that didn't matter to us.
We decided to get married on July 3, 2010. I never planned to get married on the 3rd day of any month. I wanted to get married on the 2nd because C and I officially started dating on a February 2nd, we were engaged on an August 2nd, and C was born on a November 2nd. Plus, I like even numbers better than odd numbers. But refer back to paragraph 1, sentence 1 of this post :).
It so happened that 7/3/10 was the perfect day for us to get married. I'm a very spiritual person and I like exploring the biblical significance of certain numbers. In the bible 7 means spiritual perfection, 3 means solid or complete, and 10 means completeness or perfection of a divine order. Doesn't that just sound amazing?
So after our perfect wedding day was chosen, it was time to focus on planning for Peanut's birth.
C and I planned to get married July 2, 2011. It was going to be a long engagement: 23 months to be exact. I wanted to wait till after I graduated from grad school and C wanted to wait till we were more stable.
In retrospect, I always knew we wouldn't make it till the summer of 2011 to be married. Secretly I wanted to get married in the summer of 2010, but it seemed too soon. We needed to make sure everything was perfect and in order before we got married. I wanted to have my Master's degree . We both wanted to have our wedding savings together months in advance so we wouldn't have to struggle planning the wedding.
By nature I'm a planner. So by January 2010, I had my wedding dress picked out. On February 3, 2010, I went to look at the dress and somehow ended up purchasing it. It didn't make sense when my wedding was well over a year away. What if I lost or gained weight or changed my mind? I had bought a discontinued dress that couldn't even be returned, but I loved it. I told myself that the dress purchase would help the rest of the planning process. I wouldn't have to worry about that part anymore and I could go on to the rest of it and spread it out more. But I didn't spread it out more. In March, C and I started looking at venues near my hometown, which is a 3 hour drive from Durham. It was kind of insane because my life was consumed with planning a wedding that was a year and a half away.
By the end of March 2010 I had purchased wedding day accessories like a ring bearer pillow and flower girl basket. I had bought invitation kits and favor boxes. I even started experimenting with DIY projects like centerpieces. I don't know if it was because I was depressed from being laid off from work, bored out of my mind, or just crazy. But wedding planning was my life.
Then April 20, 2010, happened. It wasn't in my plans, but I now know it was in God's. It was that day that I discovered I was expecting my precious baby O, whom I nicknamed Peanut. That day marked a change of plans. C and I decided to move our wedding up. It caught everyone offguard, but that didn't matter to us.
We decided to get married on July 3, 2010. I never planned to get married on the 3rd day of any month. I wanted to get married on the 2nd because C and I officially started dating on a February 2nd, we were engaged on an August 2nd, and C was born on a November 2nd. Plus, I like even numbers better than odd numbers. But refer back to paragraph 1, sentence 1 of this post :).
It so happened that 7/3/10 was the perfect day for us to get married. I'm a very spiritual person and I like exploring the biblical significance of certain numbers. In the bible 7 means spiritual perfection, 3 means solid or complete, and 10 means completeness or perfection of a divine order. Doesn't that just sound amazing?
So after our perfect wedding day was chosen, it was time to focus on planning for Peanut's birth.
Flashback
It was Sunday, August 2, 2009, at about 11:30am. I was sitting at Orange Grove Missionary Baptist Church between my older sister, Attorney CMW, and my then-boyfriend, C. The reverend asked all the single ladies to stand. Whenever the pastor said single he meant unmarried, so I popped up out of my seat in obedience. That's when I got the death stare from my boyfriend. My sister laughed out loud. I think I blushed.
After church C told me I jumped up too fast when the pastor asked the single ladies to stand up. My sister laughed again. I said it wasn't that big of a deal and laughed with my sister, but on the inside I thought C's reaction was kind of sweet.
After church, C and I made the hour-long drive back to my apartment. At the time I was living in Greensboro with no friends or family around and I didn't mind driving an hour to go to church or to see my sister in Durham. When we got back to Greensboro we ate at Olive Garden, which is our favorite restaurant. Somehow I convinced C to go to the mall after we ate. I don't remember how I pulled it off, but once we got to the mall I convinced C to look at engagement rings.
I always knew C was "The One" and I knew I would be his wife and the mother of his child/ren. Something just clicked the first time we met. I wouldn't exactly say it was love at first sight, more like an epiphany. From the first time I saw him I knew my life would change, but I digress.
As I tried on rings, C was trying to get an idea of what I liked. I'm not big on jewelry at all. My engagement ring was the first ring I had worn since my childhood birthstone one. I always thought I wanted a simple round solitaire, but once I started looking I realized that I'm more of a princess cut, three-stone ring type chick.
I don't think the salespeople were taking us seriously because C and I don't look our ages. We resemble teenagers more than people in their mid and late 20's. When we walked into Helzberg Diamonds the saleslady treated us with so much respect. It was so refreshing. I had been trying on rings for probably an hour, but I finally saw my baby in the case at Helzberg. It was a white gold "past, present, future" ring with diamonds along the band. There were 11 princess cut diamonds total. It was gorgeous! When I tried it on it fit perfectly like it was made fore me. I was in a trance. I just kept saying how pretty it was. I wasn't even cognizant of anything that was going on around me. I was in love again.
The saleslady wrote down the item number for the ring and my size for C. I finally took off the ring, and C and I left the mall. I couldn't get the ring off my mind and I couldn't stop talking about it. As we drove to my apartment, C made an illegal u-turn. I had no idea what he was doing. He looked at me and said he was going to get my ring.
So yeah, he got my ring. He asked me to be his wife. I said "yes." C called my dad to get permission to ask my hand in marriage. Yeah, he did it backwards, but we both knew he didn't need permission to marry me. He did it out of respect for my parents. Plus, C wanted to propose in a more official way on my birthday in September. He had planned a trip to Vegas to celebrate my birthday and what would be better than proposing in Vegas?
So I said "yes" twice. Secretly I was just happy I got my ring back because I had to give my baby up on the way to Vegas.
Between the initial proposal and the official proposal I started grad school, and decided to move to Durham to be closer to my fiance and my sister. Little did I know that my sister was planning to move away from Durham the exact same day I was moving to Durham. So from then on it was my hubby-to-be and me holding things down in the RTP.
After church C told me I jumped up too fast when the pastor asked the single ladies to stand up. My sister laughed again. I said it wasn't that big of a deal and laughed with my sister, but on the inside I thought C's reaction was kind of sweet.
After church, C and I made the hour-long drive back to my apartment. At the time I was living in Greensboro with no friends or family around and I didn't mind driving an hour to go to church or to see my sister in Durham. When we got back to Greensboro we ate at Olive Garden, which is our favorite restaurant. Somehow I convinced C to go to the mall after we ate. I don't remember how I pulled it off, but once we got to the mall I convinced C to look at engagement rings.
I always knew C was "The One" and I knew I would be his wife and the mother of his child/ren. Something just clicked the first time we met. I wouldn't exactly say it was love at first sight, more like an epiphany. From the first time I saw him I knew my life would change, but I digress.
As I tried on rings, C was trying to get an idea of what I liked. I'm not big on jewelry at all. My engagement ring was the first ring I had worn since my childhood birthstone one. I always thought I wanted a simple round solitaire, but once I started looking I realized that I'm more of a princess cut, three-stone ring type chick.
I don't think the salespeople were taking us seriously because C and I don't look our ages. We resemble teenagers more than people in their mid and late 20's. When we walked into Helzberg Diamonds the saleslady treated us with so much respect. It was so refreshing. I had been trying on rings for probably an hour, but I finally saw my baby in the case at Helzberg. It was a white gold "past, present, future" ring with diamonds along the band. There were 11 princess cut diamonds total. It was gorgeous! When I tried it on it fit perfectly like it was made fore me. I was in a trance. I just kept saying how pretty it was. I wasn't even cognizant of anything that was going on around me. I was in love again.
The saleslady wrote down the item number for the ring and my size for C. I finally took off the ring, and C and I left the mall. I couldn't get the ring off my mind and I couldn't stop talking about it. As we drove to my apartment, C made an illegal u-turn. I had no idea what he was doing. He looked at me and said he was going to get my ring.
So yeah, he got my ring. He asked me to be his wife. I said "yes." C called my dad to get permission to ask my hand in marriage. Yeah, he did it backwards, but we both knew he didn't need permission to marry me. He did it out of respect for my parents. Plus, C wanted to propose in a more official way on my birthday in September. He had planned a trip to Vegas to celebrate my birthday and what would be better than proposing in Vegas?
So I said "yes" twice. Secretly I was just happy I got my ring back because I had to give my baby up on the way to Vegas.
Between the initial proposal and the official proposal I started grad school, and decided to move to Durham to be closer to my fiance and my sister. Little did I know that my sister was planning to move away from Durham the exact same day I was moving to Durham. So from then on it was my hubby-to-be and me holding things down in the RTP.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Commencement
Today I decided to start blogging again.
Why today, you may ask. Well today is the first day I've officially become a stay-at-home mom/housewife/grad student holding down the household while my dear husband works.
We were blessed to have daddy stay at home for an entire month and a day as I adjusted to life as a mom while recovering from my emergency c-section. I wish every mother could be so lucky because the time we spent together over the past month helped to strengthen our marriage and our bond with our beautiful baby girl.
So now you may be wondering what this blog will be about. Well, Dunston Daily Dose will be your daily dose of Dunston. Seriously, this blog will be about my new life. I've been a grad student since August 2009, a wife since July 3, 2010, and a mother since December 16, 2010. So I've made quite a few adjustments in the past year and a half, and now I'm ready to invite others into my innermost thoughts as I combine all of these individual experiences into life as I know it: the good, the bad, and the ugly.
I think I'll start posting in retrospect. I'll start with August 2009 when my life started changing for the better.
Stay tuned...
Why today, you may ask. Well today is the first day I've officially become a stay-at-home mom/housewife/grad student holding down the household while my dear husband works.
We were blessed to have daddy stay at home for an entire month and a day as I adjusted to life as a mom while recovering from my emergency c-section. I wish every mother could be so lucky because the time we spent together over the past month helped to strengthen our marriage and our bond with our beautiful baby girl.
So now you may be wondering what this blog will be about. Well, Dunston Daily Dose will be your daily dose of Dunston. Seriously, this blog will be about my new life. I've been a grad student since August 2009, a wife since July 3, 2010, and a mother since December 16, 2010. So I've made quite a few adjustments in the past year and a half, and now I'm ready to invite others into my innermost thoughts as I combine all of these individual experiences into life as I know it: the good, the bad, and the ugly.
I think I'll start posting in retrospect. I'll start with August 2009 when my life started changing for the better.
Stay tuned...
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