Friday, January 23, 2009

Almost Cute...

I haven't always hated squirrels. I'm mature enough to admit that my hatred stems from fear.
Fear that I will again experience one jumping on my head (yes, that really did happen). Fear of going for another run, and feeling that bushy tail on my leg (again, true story). On one hand, I believe the squirrel to be a smart little animal. I believe they know things. They can sense my fear, and in turn, they mess with me. Torment me, if you will. On the other hand, I believe they have nuts for brains (pardon the pun). I mean, think about what they do when your driving. They play a mean game of chicken.
My husband firmly believes that I need to let this go-I agree, but it isn't that easy. This squirrel anxiety has been a part of me for so long. I mean, I can't just shut it off. I can't pretend that when I take a stroll in our subdivision, which I'm sure has won awards for having the most trees, that everything is okay. It's like a Hitchcock film..where the birds have been replaced by rats with furry tails, and Tippi replaced by yours truly.
Maybe this blog post will serve as my first step in the healing process. 
That, and a bb gun.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

So in Love......

I am obsessed with this child. I know that every mother is biased, and feels their child is REALLY  something special. He is. Trust me. And yours is too. Having a baby truly is a blessing. One that I haven't fully comprehended quite yet. Everything becomes such a big deal. When he sneezes. Or the way the nuzzles into my neck. My heart melts when his little fingers grasp one of mine. Don't even get me started on the little sounds he makes when looking at the little bears hanging from his swing. I feel so blessed to be his mother, and can't believe I've lived so long without him.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

I'm Back....

Our little man

Did Christmas and New Years really happen??? It's been 5 weeks since giving birth to our amazing little boy. Addison Jagger was born on 12-12-08 @ 7:58 a.m. weighing in at 7lbs 9 oz, and was 21 1/2" long (NOT from my side of the family for sure!). I went into early labor on Wednesday night. After about 5 hours of contractions, we decided to call our midwife and let her know what was going on. She suggested we go to the hospital-so at about 3 a.m. off we went.
The contractions were getting more intense-to the point that it was hard to answer the nurses(Kathy) questions.She asked what our birth plan was, and we explained that we were not wanting any drugs, etc. She began giving her speech about how wonderful epidurals are, and that we should keep an open mind. In one ear and out the other. Kathy then wanted to check and see how far I was dilated. I was convinced, by the contractions, that I could be pretty far along. Wrong. I was about a 3. I had a long way to go, but was hopeful that it would speed up. Wrong. Kathy's shift was coming to an end, and next came Rachel. Jared and I did several laps around the maternity ward, hoping it would speed things up...not so much. By this time it was around 9 a.m. We hadn't gotten any sleep. My friend Erin stopped by to check on us. She came in the room with such excitement. I couldn't match her enthusiasm due to the excruciating pain that would come and go. Over Rachel's 12 hour shift, the pain got more and more intense. I labored for a while in the tub, in the shower, more and more laps, on the nursing ball, in the bed, walking around the room, standing up, laying down, squatting, kneeling-you get the picture.
Our midwives, Kim and Katie arrived. They wanted to check me and see what my progression was. I just KNEW it had to be close. Wrong. Still a 3. Yep. A 3.
Rachel was gone, and in came Bert. I was in the tub again, as suggested by Kim and Katie, and I wanted to die.
After a few more hours (by this time it was around 10 p.m.) and no progression, they decided to break my waters. It did nothing. Then Kim suggested I get into a certain  position on the bed that is known to help speed things along. This was where I wanted to jump out of the window. The position involved laying on my stomach/side with my legs sort of spread apart as well as my arms. If you're a visual person, picture a chalk outline of a  victim in a cheesy murder mystery. The kicker was that I couldn't move. At all. Not even during a contraction. Oh, and I had to stay there for 30 minutes. It was AGONY. If you guessed that it did nothing to move things along, you'd be correct. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Enter stadol. Kim and Katie wanted me to take something so that I could relax, get some rest, and give the ol' uterus a break. They said some much needed rest could be the trick to, yep, speeding things along. Fine stadol it is. 
All that flipping drug did was make me drowsy in between contractions. So about every 6 minutes or so, I would feel as if I was going to nod off, and then WHAM! Reality kicks in. Crap stadol.
As with most cases, one drug leads to another. I was then told that I needed pitossin. My contractions were way too far apart, and pitossin would kick them into gear. Hunh? Into gear? Meaning more intense. Meaning closer together. Jared and I were all cried out. We were spent. No sleep, no relief, oh and did I mention I had only progressed to a 4??? I knew I needed the dreaded epidural if I was taking the pitossin. Jared and I briefly discussed it, and decided to go ahead and get both. I labored drug free for 20 hours, and I could not take any more. What was so crazy was that we had so many reservations about epidurals going into this pregnancy, and now we had so much peace about getting one.
Enter the anastesiologist . Enter epidural heaven. Enter pitossin. Enter our baby not tolerating the pitossin, and having his/her heartbeat decend. Fast forward 6 hours later: Kim checked me again. I knew I had to be ready to push. I mean, c'mon, I signed up for the pitossin! 
I WAS STILL AT A 4!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The baby's safety was at risk big time, and I was told I would need a C-section.
Yes, after 26+ hours of insane labor, I was now being told that I needed to be sliced open. Pronto.
I thought I was going to lose my mind. I mean what can I say? No? So papers were signed, tears were shed,  many many prayers were said, and off I went to the OR. It was all so surreal. The staff was amazing. They talked me through everything that was going to be done. I'll spare you all the details, but the one thing Jared and I really wanted was for him to be able to announce the sex of the baby. So, 45 minutes later  (make that 26 hours THEN 45 minutes later), Jared announces "it's Addison Jagger!!!". I have a son!!! I was overjoyed!!!! 
After cleaning up the little one, they brought him over to me-well, to my head so I could see him. He was perfect! 10 fingers! 10 toes! And so much hair!
It was time for me to get put back together. I was bummed that I couldn't get that initial skin on skin time with  my baby-one of the many drags of a C-section. However, they let Jared go into a room and they had their bonding time, which was awesome. 
That wasn't the end of their bonding time, let me tell you! I was bed ridden for the first 24 hours, so Jared was mommy and daddy (minus the breast feeding-which is a whole story in itself). Recovery was 3 days in the hospital. I was encouraged to get moving around as much as possible. I agreed, but only after my codine was given to me. I had zero appetite, except for my obsession with the hospital chicken broth. Addison was doing great-we were all anxious to get home, and after a few inspections on baby and mamma, we were discharged. Thank GOD Jared was off work for a while as we settled into our new life. My parents arrived the following week, and stayed for almost 2. They were a H-U-G-E help, and I wish they lived next door. Christmas and New Year's came and went. I never knew what day it was, however, the time I knew. I was up every 2 hours. So was Jared. Hence, so was Addison.
Life as we know it had ended--there have been many adjustments, and no sleep. We have gone through many challenges in the last 5 weeks. However, we couldn't be more in love with this little guy. He has so much personality--he loves lights--he's a thinker, and furrows his brow while doing so. He loves getting his hair washed under the kitchen faucet, but LOATHES getting a bath. I am so excited to have him in my life. He is such a blessing, and I look forward to all of the stories to come.