One Week

Friday was Abigail's one week birthday. It's still strange having such a new, tiny human in the house. Everything now revolves around this new, tiny human.

Abby (once spelled "Abi" but has since been changed by majority vote) saw her pediatrician on Friday. Our first outing! She was deemed perfectly healthy. She weighed 8 lbs 4 oz which is an ounce over her birth weight. The doctor called her a "power-nurser" and I would certainly agree. The child is addicted to milk.

Besides her eating habits, here's what I've learned about Abby this week:
1. She has incredibly long toes, pictured below with her hospital LoJack.
2. She makes at least ten different sounds when she's sleeping. My favorite sound is a clicking noise that reminds me of something I would hear in a rainforest.
3. She sneezes in threes or fours.
4. Her head always smells fabulous.
5. She had substantial hair on her earlobes when she was born, but now it's gone. I wish I had taken a picture.
6. She tolerates sponge baths.
7. When she sucks her thumb she often covers her entire face.

First Visitors

Proud Nana

Pop Pop's Hands

Katie and Meem

Auntie Marlene

Great Grandma Nan

Marlene's Mom

Aunt Patty

Relaxing with Daddy After Company

Abigail's First Hour

Girly Hat

Tastes Like Mommy

First Family Photo

First Bath

Mohawk Baby

Owning Our Birth

After 40 weeks, 2 days, 3 hours, 28 minutes, a doula, natural childbirth classes, affirmations, breathing techniques, visualizations, reading of Dr. Sears and Ina May Gaskin, viewings of "The Business of Being Born" and "Orgasmic Birth," heavy consideration and, finally, determination that I wanted a non-medicated birth, Abigail Grace came into this world by C-section. But I'm OK with it.

Mild cramps started a little after midnight on Thursday, one day after Abi's EDD. More cramps at 3:45 and 6:30 AM. By 7 AM patterned contractions started and were about four minutes apart; they were more uncomfortable than actually painful. They increased in intensity throughout the day and by 2 PM when Jodi, my doula, arrived they were about three minutes apart and strong enough that I called upon my breathing and relaxation techniques to help work through them. Within an hour the breathing turned into guttural moaning and Jodi suggested we go to the hospital.

Walking into the emergency room my water broke (more like leaked, which would continue for the next 12 hours). As Greg, Jodi and I entered the elevator to take us to the labor and delivery floor we ran into one of my doctors, known affectionately as "Dr. Doom." He checked in with us and then just to be an ass, he repeatedly stalled the elevator by putting his hand between the doors when they started to close. On the next contraction I told Greg to punch him. That's the kind of relationship Dr. Doom and I have. That's probably the kind of relationship he has with all of his patients.

I was six cm dilated when checked and was hopeful that labor was more than halfway over. I'll forego detailed description of the remainder of my labor for fear of sounding whiny to all women who have labored and given birth and sounding completely gross to all women who haven't. To summarize, the last few centimeters of dilation are generally the most torturous but are also supposed to be the quickest. Unfortunately, I was stalled at eight cm for over 5 hours. I've never experienced such intense physical pain. All the breathing and relaxation techniques were thrown out the door and I had to focus on just getting through the next few seconds. After 17 hours of labor and still only at eight cm, I first seriously considered drugs. My doctor (not Dr. Doom, fortunately!) said that at this point she would only recommend an epidural, that it would lessen the intensity of the contractions, I would be able to rest and hopefully my cervix would dilate completely. I had nothing left. I asked if we could turn off the medicine when it came time to push so I would be able to respond to my body. This was doable so I consented. Once the drugs kicked in I felt sweet relief and was able to nap for about 20 minutes. After three hours on the epidural I was checked again. Complete disappointment; still only eight cm. Something was keeping me from dilating completely. It could be that the baby was just very big as was predicted, but there could also be other problems. My temperature was rising and the doctor was concerned about infection. She recommended a C-section. Part of me was heartbroken, but I had full confidence in my doctor. I knew she wasn't recommending surgery to rush home or because she was scared I would sue her if there was a major complication. It was the best option at the time. It turns out the baby was facing toward the ceiling and her head was tilted, so she wasn't being pushed straight down during the contractions. The doctor said she wouldn't have been able to make it out on her own.

So Abi came into this world in an operating room, rather than a delivery room. She wasn't put on my chest as planned, but Greg held her as she was snuggled to my cheek and licked my nose. We had to wait for our magical bonding hour, but it was still euphoric. She was alert with open eyes, a beautiful deep blue. Abi nursed immediately and is such a pro at breastfeeding that my milk came in a day earlier than expected and she's actually gained weight already!

People say that labor and birth are unpredictable. Being the planner I am I thought I would be devastated with having a C-section. I'm not in the least. I know I did all I could to have a non-medicated birth; Abi and I just needed help and we're OK with that.

Waiting for Godot

Hang on. . .Godot never appears. Maybe I should retitle this post. . .

Last night I told Greg that I was certain I'd be pregnant forever. She's never coming out. He assured me that would not be the case. I'm still not convinced.

One of the most annoying parts is that I can't get that K7 song "Come, baby, come" out of my head. Yes, I know it has nothing to do with birthing.

Among other small projects, I cleaned and organized the pantry.

And baked butterscotch-chip pumpkin cookies. The cookies are intended for the nurses at the hospital, but if Little Teener doesn't make her debut within four days I'll be forced to eat them myself (per recipe instructions).

So Much for Gender-Neutral

Long before Little Teener existed I always thought the nursery would be relatively gender-neutral. The office/nursery-to-be was painted green because of this. Then I was inspired by a Whimsical Asian nursery I found on-line, and now Little Teener has an ultra-girlie room. Such is life.

Little Teener's First Piece of Art

First Doll courtesy of Grandma Edly. I picked out the peacock pillow, of course.

Had to use the label maker!

Desmond checking out one of many birds.

The girls came over to help put up the giant tree decal. Katie and Erin did all the work, while Mary, Caitlin, Marie and I were the cheerleaders. It turned out fabulous. Thanks, ladies!