Arrival

By this point in Xander’s life, I’d already written a handful of posts about him. Poor Luna. Already getting the Second Child Shaft (but, then again, with Xander I wasn’t teaching two online courses in the weeks leading up to and immediately following his birth, so…).

We are all adjusting to life as a family of four (five, sorry Tonks. AGAIN.). Luna is such a different baby than Xander was, which shouldn’t be surprising at all, but is. If she’s awake, she’d better be nursing. If she’s asleep, she’d better be nursing. Ha! Oh, my. She hates being set down, being away from the boob, and pacifiers. She’s mixed about swaddling, but we kind of force it on her because, COME ON, I gotta shower at some point, right? (RIGHT.)  She’s starting to have those periods of quiet wakefulness and oh, I love it. She just opens her eyes and looks around the room. When her gaze falls on me I swear she tries to smile (but mostly it turns out like a surprised O! shape).

Before too much more time passes, I thought I’d share the story of how Luna came to enter the world. Well, just part of it. Nine months of that story is rather dull, in my opinion.

So. Friday night, the first of this month, I was scrambling to finish some grading that had to post by midnight, and grumbling my way through more irregular Braxton Hicks and prodromal labor pains. Nothing felt DIFFERENT, though, so I wasn’t paying much attention. I promised myself a big bowl of chocolate ice-cream when I finished. So, I did my best to ignore Twitter and powered through thirty-ish partial essays. By the time I finished, it was past 11 and I was too tired for ice-cream (HERESY!), so I just went to bed.

… and proceeded not to sleep. I had a few stronger contractions, but, again, nothing regular, and nothing I couldn’t breathe or talk through, so…you know. MORE OF THE SAME.  And, yeah, it must be admitted that I was not taking this gracefully. I was whining and crying and cursing and telling John how much my life sucked and would always suck because I’d always be pregnant and it wasn’t faaaaiiiir.

Around 2AM the smoke detector went off. Just twice. Enough to wake us up completely. Well, I was already awake (pregnancy insomnia, yo – SUCK IT). It went off enough for me to poke John awake and demand he go look at it. I’m kind like that.

He did, and it never made another peep. Around 2:30 I gave on sleeping and took my pillows out to the couch to sulk some more. And then…my water broke. I told John, who was still awake from the fire alarm check, and he started to call our babysitters and neighbors so SOMEONE could come watch Xander, because I was being stubborn and refused to put him in the car to come with us (not to hang out, but to meet our sitters there and buy us some time). I was also trying to convince John that despite every warning from every doctor in the practice, I was CERTAIN that we had plenty of time. PLENTY! I wasn’t even contracting yet! See? AM FINE! Let’s hang out and wait.

Luckily, our neighbor listened to our middle of the night message and high tailed it over to our place to hang out while our OTHER sitters drove over. Still though, you know, NO BIGGIE. JUST LEAKING AMNIOTIC FLUID EVERYWHERE. Let’s get a snack!

Got in the car, went back inside for an extra bottle of water (I was parched, OK?), and John proceeded to speed and run red lights (cautiously! Don’t worry! I mean, we live in VT, which is on it’s own not crowded, but even less so at 3:15 AM.). I continued to tell him it’s not a big deal, really, we have time! Don’t get a ticket!

He, wisely, ignored me.

We got to the hospital at around 3:20, spent 10 minutes getting from the ER entrance to our room, and Luna was born at 3:48.

You guys. It was intense. I mean. Xander  was fast, too. Three hours from water breaking to delivery. But less than an hour!? I didn’t really think that was possible. Of course, yes, I’d been in labor for weeks, I was dilated to 5 for at least a few days. But still! An HOUR!? Total? Obviously, no meds, no IV for my Group B Strep, no “waiting” to push. I think the worst part, in all honesty, was the post delivery stitching. Done by a med student. Who tried to tell me that it hurt because the numbing solution “didn’t work.”

BUT ANYWAY. That was it. The whole shebang. Like last time, the actual delivery and pushing parts are a little fuzzy (you do tend to get rather, uh, FOCUSED on the task at hand).  But I do remember yelling “I don’t want to!” when my midwife prompted me to give another push. And I do remember (only somewhat shamefully) kicking the stitching med student and yelling at her to “JUST STOP IT.” I may have said please. But I doubt it. John told me later he’d never heard anything quite “like that” in regards to my yelling. I guess I’ll never manage to have a L. Ron Hubbard approved Silent Birth. But, again, NON MEDICATED PUSHING. You try not yelling.

The post delivery time was kind of weird this time. I mean, we had Xander to think about. So John split his time between me and Xander, and I just sorta…hung out in the hospital, continuing to dial the number for room service until I had acquired quite the collection of meal trays. I was close to having to stay for an extra day or so, because I had some delayed bleeding issues, but that got resolved quickly, and Luna was healthy despite the lack of antibiotics (it’s not like she hung out in the birth canal for all that long, after all), so we got to leave after a little over 24 hours.

And that’s where we are now. Home. As a family of four (FIVE. TONKS. GOD.). And it’s still pretty mind-blowing that I am mother to CHILDREN. More than one. A son and a daughter.

But, of course, it’s mind-blowing in a wonderful way.

The Name

Luna.

Yes, like Harry Potter.

Kind of.

In part.

Just like last time, picking a name was always at the top of my list of Things To Do while pregnant. I always want to have something to call my babies other than Baby.

Before we found out that she was a she, I had thought I was having another boy. I mean, I already had one, so it just made sense. Orion was always going to be part of his name, had she been a he. Ezra Orion was my favorite. Xander and Ezra. It just sounds so cool, doesn’t it?

I was less decisive about the girl names. I liked Lorelai (Gilmore Gilrs forever!), and Maya and Violet had always been high on our list for both pregnancies. But none of them felt like MY baby’s name. And then we found it that she was definitely a girl and they seemed even less like her name.

One night, looking for inspiration, I read through the online Harry Potter Lexicon (oh, shut up) and made a list of all the names in there that I liked. Arabella was cute. Cassiopeia. I added Luna as kind of an after thought. I always loved her character, but I also liked the sound of the name. Luna. It’s lyrical. And it’s the name of our moon, which makes my former Space Camp Counselor Nerd heart happy. (Could I reveal any more of my total geekiness in a single post?)

I thought, though, that John would shoot it down. Not because he’s not a Harry Potter fan, he is (though, you know, not as much as I am) (SHUT UP), but just because it seemed kind of “out there.”

When I read him the list, he stopped me at Luna. “I’ve always liked that name. Let’s use that one.” WELL ALRIGHTY THEN.

Luna it was.

Everly I picked when we couldn’t really decide on a middle name. Beverly is the name of my grandmother – my mom’s step mom, and she is such a key person in our family. I didn’t love the double B alliteration with our last name, though, plus I kind of liked the idea of her middle name starting with my initial. So we dropped the B.

Luna Everly

I have so much other stuff to write about, but, you know, that first week with a baby is mostly about lactating and weeping (I do not handle the plummeting hormones well. At all.). But now I’m a bit more stable, albeit exhausted, and am even finishing up those online classes this week (I had a stand-in last week). So maybe I’ll get around to writing about her birth (LESS THAN AN HOUR. It was, uh, intense.), or Xander (he is simultaneously being totally awesome and a total train wreck), or how completely different this baby is than he was (she cries when she’s hungry! then she eats! I AM NOT PUMPING AT ALL OMG!!!).

But only if I get a nap in first. Naps will always win these days.

Valid Excuse

I meant to update after my last appointment, but I was behind on grading and then this happened:

Luna Everly, 7lb 15oz, 19.75 inches, and an even speedier exit than her brother.

We are home and happy and she’s really so much more than I could have ever wished for.

37 Weeks

Hey! I’m 37 weeks pregnant! Lady Baby is now full term and needs to vacate the premises, the little mooch.

Ok, fine, stay put if you MUST.

Anyway, I had my weekly check today. Not much to report. Still hanging around, dilated to 4CM and 80% effaced. Which, you know, means nothing and also everything. Basically, I’m not there yet ,but am reminded (YET AGAIN) that when active labor starts, it’s gonna go fast! So don’t wait.

Which sucks. I mean, it is what it is, I know this, but it sucks. Because it means I can’t NOT pay attention when I’m having contractions that I know aren’t THE contractions, because of how quickly they can turn into THE contractions. I have to pay attention. And also? They still do hurt, even if they’re not the active labor ones. They still hurt, they still leave me exhausted and vaguely disappointed because, you know, no baby. (And yes, we had a second fake-out trip to L&D after FIVE HOURS of contractions 2 minutes apart.)

In theory I know that it makes the “real” labor faster and easier for me (well, so I’ve been told), but having a month of this with an unknown amount of time still to go? BAH.

Anyway, that’s my complaining. It’s what I do, these days. That and eat donuts. Which, no offense to Vermont, but your donuts kinda suck. I’ll still eat them, don’t get me wrong. But I miss Donut Corner, yo. (Though, truth time, when it’s negative eleventy million degrees out, I miss EVERYTHING about SoCal. Everything. Even I-15.)

I now have 1.5 outfits I can wear that cover my belly, which means at least once a week we cannot leave the house because I have to wash something.

Xander is being his ridiculous and awesome self and seems very excited to meet his sister. He’s also freaking out a little, I think because of all the up in the airness of it all. But God, he’s just so damn great. Unrelated to my gestating or anything, really, he is this full on PERSON. He tells me stories and plays imaginary games and he has EXPLODED with words. Sentences! Complete ones! He has them. He will come find me in the kitchen, dawdling over a cup of coffee, grab my hand and say in a singsong voice “Hey mama! Come here! I show you something!” And then he shows me the box of stickers he upended in his room. “A real big mess,” he sighs.

I can’t believe I get to have two of these.

What a full term belly looks like. AKA OMG SO HUGE.

Finding Community

The Internet gets a bad rap a lot of the time. And, quite honestly, it’s not too hard to see why. All you have to do is read some of your more, er, zealous friends’ political posts (whether they hold the same opinion as you or not!) on Inauguration Day to figure that one out. There is something about the freedom to say/type whatever you want and just WALK AWAY that removes some of the social boundaries most of us try to maintain in our face to face relationships and interactions.

But, on the other hand, the Internet is home to YouTube videos of kittens on Roombas. So.

I have been “online” for several years. I started this blog while pregnant with Xander, so it’s about three years old (ish). Before this one, though, I had an anonymous blog that was much the same: navel gazing and life stories and pictures of Tonks. It’s really in the last year and a half, though, that I’ve really started to invest more of myself in my online life. Joining in on Twitter conversations, keeping up with people instead of just lurking in the background. Being active, really, in cultivating relationships
(in so much as typing with lots of capital letters and parenthesis is active).

When I came home from The Blathering, I felt…discouraged is too strong a word, but it comes close. Not in the event, but in my (seemingly) inability to connect with the actual people behind these virtual relationships. My innate introvertedness and shyness, coupled with pregnancy exhaustion, made me feel that I had failed, somehow, at Getting It. But then I came home, fired up Twitter, and these little avatars with funny nicknames seemed so much more real. Because, DUH, they are real. They are real people, typing real things, just like I am. And not everyone I am friends with online attended The Blathering. It’s more that I started to get it a little more. Started to realize that some of these things are just the first steps to friendships. Going to a weekend long party with strangers was not going to result in me having a new BFF, but it might lay a step down in that direction.

And it’s so awesome. I care about these women (not to be sexist, it’s just that most of my online friends are women. OR SO THEY SAY). I care about their well being. I wonder what’s going on when someone 40+week pregnant is Twitter silent for a day (BABY?! Or nap?). I get excited when someone else’s kid conquers a long held fear. I’m invested, just as I am with the people I see in my day to day life.

And, let me tell you, I’m blown away by how rewarding and fun it is. I got a package of personalized to me gifts from someone I’ve never met. I was lamenting the lack of BabyLegs available on eBay, and had two separate people (who’ve also never met me) send me their old or unused ones. And it’s not about Getting Stuff. It’s more, hey, you need something? I have it! Let me help you! Let’s help each other. Let’s…be friends. Be a community. Be real.

And for all the eyerollingly annoying stuff online, for all the hateful comments, and uneducated memes and .gifs (STILL NOT SURE WHAT THIS IS), all the division and trolling and bullying and CRAP, there is also this. The real people. The people who just….live part of their lives online, but are just as real on the computer as off. There is kindness and friendship and love and, GAH, I know, cheesy gross pass the puke bucket, but it’s true, and it has made SUCH a difference to me this year.

Also. I mean, kittens on Roombas. How can the Internet be bad?

Comparatively

As Baby Day continues to approach (still contracting! still not in labor! still can’t wait to be done and BURN ALL THE MATERNITY CLOTHES!), I’ve been thinking a lot about Xander’s newborn days and infancy and the things I think we did well and the things I want to do differently.

The same:

• Sleep: John (JS is John, OK? Can I just call him John, now? The nickname was from an old blog and I transferred it and now it’s confusing because I only use it sometimes so, JOHN. HI!) and I took turns sleeping with Xander on our chest out on the couch. This allowed one of us to get a few decent stretches of sleep in, since, like most newborns, Xander slept better when he was on one of us.
• Babywearing: This is both a different and the same one. I wore Xander a lot, especially when he was miserable and fighting naps, and it was lovely – he’d conk out within a block of walking around and sleep for hours. I want to do this again, only more of it. The appeal this time around is also that I can wear LB while playing with Xander.
• Bottles: We used them. We loved them. It let me get out of the house without worrying too much about when I’d be back (I still had to pump, but, still).
• Swaddling: Dude. Miracle blanket now and forever (of course, THIS baby will hate being swaddled, because of course she will).
• Routine: I was pretty good about getting Xander on a “routine” quickly. (I say it was me, when really it was 90% him and 10% me paying attention) and this helped everyone in the house.
• Solids: I did a combo of making baby foods and baby-led weaning. This worked out great and until he hit the picky toddler phase, he ate EVERYTHING.
• Diapers: We started cloth around 5 months (?), but always had disposables on hand for emergencies, or if I was just too damn lazy to wash them. I liked the low key approach.

Different:

• Breastfeeding: Ha ha. This is a long one. For one, I will be looking IMMEDIATELY for any signs of a tongue tie because NO NO NO. That was horrible. Also, I was so unprepared last time, in a way. I thought “I am breastfeeding, so I don’t need formula.” And my milk took 5 days to come in and Xander was dehydrated and I was a hot mess because DUH – he needed FOOD, my GOD. My take this time: I will give it my very, very best – lactation consulting, the whole nine yards. But I will not pump for months on end, and I will not make myself (or my family) miserable over this. If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t work.
• Guilt: Oh, so much guilt. And anxiety. I don’t know if I can 100% control this, but I want to try. I was so stressed about so much that wasn’t worth stressing over, and I felt so guilty any time I didn’t live up to what I thought was the “right” thing.
• Relaxed: This is, obviously, related, but while we had a general handle on a routine that worked for us, I did not handle it well when Xander decided to deviate. I remember one time, in particular, that I nearly lost my mind because he wouldn’t take his morning nap. Naturally, this was at the age when he started cutting down to one nap, but I was so freaked out that it would RUIN! THE! WHOLE! DAY! and thus night and really, night time fears suck. Everyone wants sleep.

It’s funny that the only solid thing on my different list is breastfeeding. Maybe not, since that’s Such A Big Thing. When I started out writing this post I thought I had a whole laundry list of things I’d do differently. It’s somewhat refreshing to look back and think “hey, I did pretty well!” And my general desire to “do better” can be summed up as “CALM DOWN, CRAZY LADY.”

It helps, of course, that John is who he is and so hands on and willing to do things like convince a wailing infant to drink from a bottle, or sleep with a little sweatbomb on his chest so I can snooze in the bed.  It also helps that I have a mother who takes weeks out of her schedule to come help me. She was invaluable last time, and I’m sure she will be this time, too (especially with helping care for Xander).

I’m 35 weeks today. Who knows how much longer to wait?

 

All Clear

Well! Last night was the first time in either of my pregnancies that I made a dry run to Labor and Delivery!

Last week at my check up, the doctor told me to call if I had regular “false labor” contractions. Which, of course, I’ve had pretty much since then. Yesterday they were coming more often and were a bit more intense. Not painful in the same way that active labor is painful (there is a major difference when that water breaks, man), but harder to breathe through for sure. So, I called. And we decided, for everyone’s peace of mind, that I should come in and get checked.

Lady Baby and I got hooked up to the monitors. Sure enough, I was having sporadic contractions (some went right off  the chart), and was dilated to 2. For a second baby, that doesn’t always mean much, even if it did give me pause since I was at 2 about 12 hours before Xander was born.  But after about an hour and a half of more contractions, I was still at a 2, so we got to come home (just in time for Downton Abby! Hurray!).

Obviously I’m glad that the baby was not born preterm; though, I must admit, going into L&D and NOT getting a baby out of the deal seems pretty lame. And I do not relish the idea of having these contractions for an additional 6 or more weeks. That would seriously  blow. I mean. Wow. I did get “permission” to kind of ignore the general rule of timing the contractions, and focus more on their intensity, which I think will help me know when It’s Time (if my water doesn’t break first).

But, now we know all the sneaky hospital stuff, like where to park and how to get parking stamps and stuff like that. We also know that Xander has some great people who’ll watch him in a pinch (and who will also cook an entire chicken, clean the counters, and make broth from the chicken bones) – it was such a relief not to have to worry about him while we were there. Well, not much. I was worried just because it’s what I do. (No one really told him what was happening, since we were fairly certain it was a false alarm, but today he asked me where Baby ___ was and when I said in Mama’s belly he replied, “open it?!” Uh.)

So. Baby’s still cooking. I’m still contracting. All is “normal” in the final weeks, here. Wheee.