How May 5th changed everything...

I used to think that seeing that positive sign on a pregnancy test was the most overwhelming and intimidating (and wonderful) thing in the world.

It was a symbol of how in 9 short months your life was about to shift in a way you had never experienced. Even if you have seen it before, every subsequent time after that is just as life altering. The fear and the unknown is still there. The worry and hope is still there. The joy and the nausea is still there.

And now I have a new perspective.

Seeing that positive sign for the third time was albeit, a bit of a surprise, but not that unexpected at the end of the day. And I did feel that excitement and worry and hope all over again. Little did I know that on May 5, I would be experiencing a whole new type of shock.

Like I said, it was the third time around, so that dating ultrasound didn't seem that important for my husband to be at, he said he could make it work and I said "why? just come to the next one in a month, at least then it will LOOK like a baby, right now its just like a dot on a screen"

So I'm in the dark ultrasound room wanting to throw up from having to pee so bad, and the ultrasound tech is doing her thing saying "I will show you in just a second, but I just have to get all the measurements and such first..." and I reassure her, I'm not worried, i know she has to do what she needs to do, and its all good cause this is my third time around so I'm happy to wait it out.
She starts asking me a lot of questions, which at the time I assume is her just being friendly.
"nobody with you today?"
"do you have other kids at home?"
"how old are they?"
"do you have help with them?"
etc etc etc.
The she says, "So I'm going to show you, but I'll put it up on the screen here and then, since you have done this all before, why don't YOU tell ME what you see?"
That was the moment that little positive pregnancy sign went from being the single biggest indicator of how much life was about to change to being 2nd place.

"I don't want to say....because to ME, ..that ....that looks like two.."
"It IS two. Two heartbeats. Two embryos. Ive checked it a few times. Its twins."

.....
"OH. MY.GOD."
"do you want the room to yourself?"
"oh my god"
"this is a pretty normal reaction to this kind of news"
"OH my GOD!"
"you can take your time in here to process it if you like"

"UM, no. I have to go. I have to go yell at my  husband."

My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my face. I felt like i was in some weird cloud of shock. I was going to kill Jake.
I walked out of there. Stared at that picture over and over and OVER again.
And then I called Jake.
"Remember all those stupid jokes you made about twins jake? REMEMBER THOSE?!" I said through tears in my car.
"what? What is going on? YOU'RE KIDDING ME"
"I'M NOT JOKING. I'M SENDING YOU THE PHOTO RIGHT NOW"

I remember how I felt that day. I felt so overwhelmed. I felt exhausted already...how were we going to manage TWO babies at once....when we already HAD TWO BABIES AT HOME?!
I started to experience large waves of concern, washing up thoughts about losing one, or about one of them growing and one disappearing.
Which made me realize my heart was already attached to both of those alarming and terrifying little dots on the screen.
My brain was melting from all the racing thoughts but my heart was secretly beaming, telling me how amazing this was.Unfortunately, my brain speaks louder, so most of that week I was caught up in tears thinking about how we were going to do this.

Eventually, the enormousness of that day started to ease, and the storm in my head started to find paths to navigate myself back to a new version of myself that could be calm AND expecting twins.
I'm hoping this version of myself will also be able to adjust to become both a mother of four kids, AND a normal person...with washed hair. But that may be pushing it.

Whenever the stress, and the worry and the concern have reared up at me over these past few months, I have found  that if I close my eyes and remember the sounds of those  two heartbeats, and think, "We get to have two", most of that sticky grey worry washes away, and exposes the joy again.

Dont get me wrong. I DO realize how messy, and hard, and exhausting and overwhelming this is going to be. I get it. Its VERY real to me these days, because lets be honest, the sheer size of my belly is making this all very tangible. But lets be honest. Ive been a working mom of two kids under 4 too, and that sure wasn't some walk in the park either, so I'm just piling on now. Which is fine. Ive always liked efficiency.

So to all those kind but overbearing women in the supermarkets: yes, I realize I'm going to be busy. Yes, I realize what causes pregnancy. Yes, 3 boys and 4 kids sounds like a handful. Yes, my life is about to get crazy.

But you know what? Its about to get even more fucking wonderful too.

Pretty soon I get to have two more babies....and I'll be allowed to have wine again.
So there's always a shiny side.

Resurfacing....

It has been literally 3 years since I wrote anything down here.

I would be embarrassed by my utter failure as a blog writer, except that I’ve been drowning, or treading in the water that is my children, with my head barely above it all for literally 3 years.

My beautiful girl was born, and I should have known when she took twice as long as her brother to get out of there that I was about to meet the most stubborn, strong and fierce little thing in my life. She has turned my world upside down, and to be fair it was not even right side up to start with, so I can’t blame her for all the chaos.

When Emma was about 18 months old, and I was in the middle of yet another battle with a person that seemed bigger than me and yet was only standing up to my knees, and felt utterly defeated. When it was over, I was telling my sister in law about it and feeling embarrassed, and she said, “that’s what is so great about Emma, she is who she is, and she is owning that”.  

I think that in all the haze of the exhaustion and the pure frustration at her fiery little personality, I missed that key point, and needed someone standing outside of the ring that is Emma vs Mom, to show it back to me. I’ve been so grateful for that in my life; for the people around me, showing me the pieces I’m missing, and showing me the places I’m succeeding, because motherhood is a lot like looking through a foggy window at the end of a long commute; at the end of the day, you can see where you are but you don’t remember how you got there, or if anyone fed the dog.

So now, when Emma rears up at me, as she does several times a day, because, well, she’s Emma, I remember to take pride in how she holds her own, and remember how important it is for a woman to stand up for herself, and that soothes my exhausted, wine soaked heart.

I’m going to try to make another go at documenting more of this tornado of a life jake and I have made for ourselves. I want to so that at the end of the next 15 years, I don’t just see where we ended up, but that I can remember the small things. I want to remember how it sounds when Sam laughs so hard he cant breathe, and how Emma will only sleep with her frozen pillow and a stuffed animal named Pablo. I want to have tiny windows into this life for later. 

Even if they are full of exhausted mom rants and admitting to how many times I hid in my bathroom that week.

I say now that Im going to start writing here again….but the last time I said that was 3 years ago…and the time before that was 5 years ago…so, this could be the last time you hear from me for another 4 years. If you don’t hear from me, send help.

Signing up for more crazy....

At last I am writing in this blog again. I have been saying I will find the time for oh...like 2 years now. I expected to have the urge to write once I was pregnant with numero douce back in June, but it turns out, life is pretty crazy when you’re pregnant, working, raising a toddler and trying to look and act like a sane and normal person for the majority of all those tasks.  

On top of it all I am now growing another person who will soon also be bossing me around and influencing even more decisions in my life. It’s almost irrational..its like, man my life is busy...I should probably add a person to it that I love so much I will let him/her deprive me of sleep, cause me to put my body through hell and back, and wreck my heart on a whole new level all over again. Honestly, you  feel so love addicted to them, that even when You’ve had the longest day ever of listening to Elmo songs, staying sane during temper tantrums and time outs, and using every method of negotiation in the book to convince the bugger to eat his damn dinner, get dressed or just “let” me change his stinky diapers,  you will still miss him the second he’s in bed and feel the urge to wake up the little terrorist just to get one more hug. 

I'm making ANOTHER one of those.  Is anyone else concerned?

Honestly though, the first years  with Sam were hard work, but absolutely the best 25 months of my life. People and articles told me how hard it would be on my marriage, how hard it would be for my career, how I didn’t know the kinds of change that would happen in my life until I had this baby and saw it all for myself. Everyone seems hell bent on freaking you out when you're expecting your first baby. Which is annoying to say the least.

Yes, its been challenging, yes we have had days or weeks where we are worn out and down, but overall, it has been mostly wonderful.

 I can honestly say, I love that man that made this little monster (and this second one) even more than I did 2 years ago, watching him become a father, and a thoughtful and supportive husband who comes home from work and plays with his son,  and shows us how much he loves us over and over again by being here when we need him and being patient when we are annoying him ,has made me feel like we can do anything together, even tag team another one of these itty bitty bossy beings. 

Going back to work was definitely a challenge, and I am lucky that I was able to find a part time position and we were able to make our finances work around that, because the balance we were able to find was wonderful, and it gave me the opportunity to  start pursuing  my career goal of becoming a cancer care nurse,  allowing me to complete the chemotherapy administration course, add more shifts and training to my schedule and ( as a toast to my own insanity) start my Oncology Nursing Course ...while pregnant.  This last decision was a little overly ambitious for my own good, but we will figure it out one way or another, since I'm only one exam in of 6 with baby two only 4 weeks away...women be crazy. Either way, it has been a tricky year of finding balance and finding joy in things we usually take for granted, but once you find your balance, whatever that is, it really is amazing.

Overall, we decided to add more chaos to our current chaos because its been an amazing adventure and we feel stronger and happier for it. Yes, I expect some low points while we try to find our new balance again this upcoming year, but I also know that this baby will bring us even more joy at the end of the day. While the end of some those days may seem far far away, and while sleep deprivation may cause me to have leg hair the length of my bangs,  eat meals made of cereal and cheese whiz and find alone time only while I poop, years from now I know I will be grateful we had them...the days, not the children...well maybe both.  I read a quote the other day that really sums up having babies and small children, “though the days can be long, the years are short, cherish them”. I remember reading that when sam was a baby and thought, good god these women are crazy, of course I can’t wait for Sam to be a big boy so I can get a full night’s sleep back..but now that he’s sitting beside me watching Elmo and eating his cheerios, I already miss yesterday,  last month and 20 months ago...(let’s be honest those first couple weeks with a newborn were a little rough). He’s my favorite thing in the whole world and I love that I share him with the most wonderful guy, and that we have this sweet little boy in common for the rest of our lives.

And THAT is why I'm growing this second one.

I am trying HARD to appreciate being pregnant this time around, because it may be the last time I get to make a baby but again, pregnancy is mostly gross and mostly hard work.  I had gained a whole new respect for my body after Sam, I obviously struggled with the post baby body syndrome (more on that later), but I really admired my ability to do things I took for granted again, like squatting down and breathing at a normal pace and being able to pick up my little boy and walk more than like ten steps without feeling like I needed  a nap.  So I am while I am eager to have that strong able body back, I also am making a point to appreciate the body I'm in right now, still strong, just in a very different way, in the growing a human way, which is amazing on its own. Plus this time around my body didn’t put me through the vomit ringer which I really REALLY appreciated. Not throwing up like 5 times a day was a huge bonus.

I'm finally in the last leg of this gong show of a second pregnancy, and can NOT wait to finally be onto the next part of this wonderful, insane adventure.  I just want to meet the second little person my heart is supposedly going to make room for and feel that intense and crazy inducing love for baby two just like I had, and continue to have for baby one.

 

 

Rollercoaster love.

So, that pregnancy test I took 2 years ago has amounted to the sweetest little person I have ever met. His name is Sam and I can HONESTLY feel my heart ACHE every time I look him laughing at me or smiling at me.  Even when he is passed out asleep, the love I have for that baby is something I will never be able to describe to anyone. It’s not like falling in love, and it’s not like the love you have for your family or friends. It’s like the kind of love that moves you all day long, every day, forever. It’s big and unmoving and irrationally overwhelming.

Now, that doesn’t mean it’s all sunshine, butterflies and happiness. That is definitely not the case.  It’s tricky because it’s been over a year since I met Sam, and to be honest, it was all such a blur for that first 6 months that I wish I had been writing it down. I’m sure there are things I am definitely romanticizing (like late nights with Sam’s first smile...as opposed to remembering the 2 hour long screaming sessions)...but there is some of it that has become even more clear, so I can try and articulate that for you.

First of all, having baby, is like being on a rollercoaster.  The popular one you know about. One that friends have told you about, one that you have even looked up on Google, one you checked out the ads for, and finally, finally get up the courage to try.

So you make the preparations  (ie: get knocked up) and then once its booked in and  you are headed there, you are suddenly on a straight course to ride this huge intense terrifying rollercoaster ride. All of a sudden it becomes less of an “exciting idea” and more of a “holy shit reality”, which makes the lead up to it all that much more terrifying.  You start to imagine the terrible things that could happen on the ride. What if you throw up on someone? What if the hinges on ONLY your car come off and you fall off the track? What if you actually poop yourself?  Except when it is a baby you start thinking, what in the hell was I thinking? I can’t take care of a tiny human!? I don’t even know how to install a car seat! What if I drop it? What it hates me? What if I don’t love it like people say I will?

Because you already paid for your trip to get to this rollercoaster (in vomit and 9 months of heavy breathing and stretch marks) you realise there's no way around this, you are getting on. And luckily, your dumb “Ill follow you anywhere” partner is right there beside you and knows he has to get on too. Sucker.

Finally they strap you in, and off you go. Now, if you’re a control freak like me, you researched this ride through and through.  Every turn, every drop, and every upside down flip.  You know about breastfeeding and you know about every 2 hour feedings.  You know there will be lack of sleep.  You have the best diapers and the video baby monitor that will alert you of any pauses in baby breathing (okay I didn’t have that monitor but they exist and I DID consider it).  All in all, if you are like me, you think you prepared yourself for every possible drop, every possible negative outcome and have your adult diaper on for any accidents. 

And then the ride starts.

Something I can say with honesty and with a lot of humility, is that even though you prepare for those drops  and twists and turns, reading about them and experiencing them are two things that are not the same...not even related...not even removed by marriage related.

Even after you read about breastfeeding, it doesn’t prepare you for the feelings of failure when its not working, and It also doesn’t prepare you for the pride you feel when it does. The day you finally don’t shriek out in pain when that baby latches onto you becomes a mountain conquered.

 You write notes and listen to all the experts about how to manage the sleep deprivation when that baby is up every 2 hours. However at 4 am when you still haven’t gone to bed and have fallen asleep in the world’s most awkward position, with food in your hair, in clothes you’ve been wearing for 5 days, smelling of sweat and milk, with a 9lb infant on your chest because you’re too afraid to attempt the transfer to his crib and risk waking him up, you wonder why any asshole attempted to explain any of it to you.

You think you will be the mom who does sleep training with no problems because hey, you’ve heard babies cry and you knew you could withstand listening to it for awhile. But when it has been 35 minutes of your baby crying and when YOU’VE been crying since minute 3, you quickly swear to god you will never judge another woman going through sleep training ever, ever, EVER again...and you also quickly become okay with having a glass of wine in the afternoon.

You read every single chapter on how to discipline a toddler. You’re sure you have it nailed down and that you would ace any test anyone wrote for you. And then you stand there with your jaw dropped in complete shock when your toddler tries to bite you as you take the toilet brush away from him. You miss every opportunity to even get out of the way much less use the tried and tested “ clap growl method” you learned about.

But most importantly, you think you have a pretty good understanding that the bond you will have to this tiny person will be something great, something amazing. You read about the mother-child attachments, the parent love that comes with having a baby, but you honestly can never, never understand that twist, and that turn, until you are in the middle of it. You can never anticipate the love. You can never see it coming. Until you are in the midst of it with the wind in your hair, the loss of inhibition, the fear and the excitement all flowing over you so fast you can barely breathe, that drop and twist is one you will never ever see coming and never forget once it’s happened.

You can imagine what the rollercoaster is going to be like, you can anticipate it and research it, but there's just nothing like riding it and being on it. There's sudden drops that even if you see coming, take your breath away, there are  flips in the track that make you scream outloud without a thought.  The one thing that being on that rollercoaster teaches you, is that you’re on it, and if you stop trying to predict the next turn, stop trying to anticipate how you will feel, you will start to just ease into every twist, and give a little with each drop and sooner than later you  start  enjoy every single last minute turn.

At the end of the day you will get to the heart of what parenting , (and rollercoastering) is all about. The Joy. Pure, uninhibited Joy.

So I’ve learned to just...let the track run (after many moments of utter defeat in trying to control a situation you almost never have complete control over) , and I’ve stopped trying to looking ahead, and while there are days where I’m exhausted and I'm worn down and forgot to even put deodorant on, at the end of the day, I look at that boy asleep  in his crib, and I feel that joy of the ride all over again.

So that’s a bit of an update, I know its vague and in pieces, but it’s a start, which is the best I can manage at this point...its not a coincidence that my child is just over a year old and it’s been just over a year since my last update...

but tell me this wouldnt distract you too...

 

The Big Show.

November 22 rolled around like every other morning, I got up when Jake got up, ....well I rolled out of bed and heaved my giant body up and out of bed to be honest, and starting changing lyrics to songs about the baby coming such as hit me baby one more time but into get out baby now its time...things like that. It was for this blog obviously, I wasn’t just entertaining myself...well, maybe it was both.

I then continued to feel sorry for myself for a couple hours, eat some runt candy and some cereal, and proceeded to go back down to bed for my mid morning nap. I was awakened from this nap with a nagging cramp in my belly. This cramp turned into more, and then more,  just like the same cramping that period pain is like (for you women),  and I started noticing that they were pretty regular, every 5 minutes and thought oh MAN! Its baby day!!!! I called Jake and he came home and made sure to put the sheets and blankets from our bed into the laundry....(because honestly, at the time, that seemed VITAL...sigh pregnancy)

So it went from YAY its baby day to....oh shit....its baby day...

The pain unfortunately got worse. It wasn’t really bad until about 4pm, thats when it got pretty uncomfortable, but again still, manageable, and always 5 minutes apart.  Things like “the bloody show” started happening and to be honest my excitement started to dwindle since the pain was starting to make me think I wouldn’t enjoy the entrance of my baby into the world and that maybe I could hold out and wait another week to try this on for size. The contractions were about 40 seconds long, and 5 minutes apart when jake convinced me we should head into town since he would “never forgive me” if I gave birth in the car.  Men are so dramatic.

Anyways it was about 530, and about 6 before we got to the hospital. Up we go, to have our baby.

Nope.

“you are about 2 cm dilated”

Worst words ever...or so I thought at the time.  Turns out there is much worse. But thats later.

So I have the option of hanging out in triage for the next 8 hours before I am dilated or going home. I use the “im the one in labour” card to convince Jake that I want to go home for a while.

So we get home, and shit gets real....or so I thought. Again thats later.

My contractions turned into something I really really really didn’t enjoy at that point. I sat in the bath and had minute long contractions that I couldn’t speak through every 5 minutes while Jake sat in the bathroom timing them....and trying to convince me we needed to go back.

I stuck it out until 930. At that point I was like yes, I am a warrior, I have put in a solid 4 hours of hard labouring so when I go back I am going to be 8 cm and we are going to have the baby and my life will dramatically improve.  So while I am mentally high fiving myself for sticking it out and hoping my water doesn’t break in the car ride back to t he hospital, I am already preparing for the baby to be here any time.

So despite my mental high fives and hours of home labouring, the nurse seems to not know my plan because she proceeds to tell me the worst words ever (again so I thought)

“yeah, you are about 3cm along now”

WTF.

So I just went through 4 hours of agony for ONE BLOODY CM?

Shit.

So Jim comes in. Jim is the doctor, Jim is a doctor who literally could not ever be shaken up .Everything is always great, and everything is always wonderful.

Jim thinks I should hang out at the hospital now, “we’ll have your baby here by ten am tomorrow for sure”

Again. WTF.

Its only ten pm....12 MORE hours? Are they shitting me?

But I maintain composure..mostly because I have zero energy for freaking out since every 5 minutes im immobile with pain.

Then I sit up, and hear an explosion in my ears...well like  balloon popping mostly.  But this explosion led to a very wet bed. My water broke and had soaked the crap out of my bed. I looked up and explained to my nurse that I was very sorry but I was going to need new linens...and a bathtub to empty the rest of the water leaking out of me into.

She gives me one of those enormous pads to get to the bathroom in. I make it but it is soaked in like the 8 steps to the washroom. And fluid is STILL coming out. Seriously? So gross. I would like to not be continually leaking amniotic fluid all over the floor through this whole process....

Little did I realise the leaking fluid would be the LEAST of my concerns.

It took less than 6 minutes for the big show to really pick up its pace.

From the time it took me to get from the triage room to the birthing room, so maybe 2.5 minutes, my contractions turned into one GIANT contraction.  There was no more breathing between contractions, just straight up intense non stop pain. My body literally was doing one thing and I was desperately trying to convince it to stop. We were again, at war with each other.

So the nurse realises that shit is getting real up in here and decides we need a doctor in with us in case I  spontaneously explode.  So the resident comes in (that means doctor in training) and takes one look at me and tells me “ it seems that your labour has intensified quite quickly”

No shit Sherlock.

Keep in mind at this point I am leaning over an IV pole unable to sit up right and unable to catch my breath AT ALL.

Obviously a good time to start a conversation.....oh? you don’t think so? Well thats something they don’t apparently tell doctors in med school.

Dr resident decides to start asking me how it has intensified/how I am feeling/ have a I considered an epidural/can he check me out? (ps Jake had just run down stairs to park the car since we had been told we had about 12 HOURS TO BLOW)

I am literally at the point where I just look up at him and hope he just understands what im trying to say...which is “ IM DYING”.

So he checks me out, because again, I LOVE getting up and down on the table while my whole body is in a state of sudden and ultimate revolt.

“hmmm...well, you’re only about 5 cm...you really aren’t dialated enough for the kind of pain/kind of contractions you are having”

Again. THIS is the worst thing anyone has ever said.

So again he starts getting into a discussion about epidurals, how they can slow labour down, which is what we need to happen, and that it may take time so if I have considered this as an option he can contact the anaesthesiologists...blah blah blah blah blah.

ENOUGH WITH THE CARE PLAN DOCTOR, LETS DO SOMETHING!

Jesus.

Obviously I want the epidural, I started nodding the minute you were talking about it. You said it could relieve my pain and I was all OH GOD YES in my head but since I cant breathe or sit up or even consider speaking out loud without screaming lets let you interpret what nodding means please.

Ugh.

So thats the plan. Sometime soon, there will be relief. I just have to make it through the next little while....

Again. This is before I knew better.

So all that was around eleven, maybe midnight.

An hour and half later, things are still just getting worse and worse, and im just trying to not pass out from the fact that I cant breathe. ...and im confused as to why nobody is fixing this WEE little problem?

Eventually, someone gets an oxygen mask on me (apparently it was for the baby mostly) , and instead of appreciating that, I hated it. Sigh.

At that point I was pushing....well lets do this right, I wasn’t pushing, my uterus was. I was doing everything ic ould to stop it from pushing, trying to breathe, which lets be honest, I had been putting effort into that for the past 2 hours with no luck so the chance it would work now was less than good.  It was bizarre. My body was acting on its own it felt like, and me? I was just along for the ride...and the ride SUCKED.

So my doctor gets called  back in to the hospital, Jim is back to save the day. Unfortunately Jim is here to say, “listen madi, you’re about 8cm dilated, but we are going to have to start pushing now, you will dilate as we go”

And then the REAL worst words ever: “We are going to give up on the epidural coming, this baby is coming and we are just going to have to deliver him this way”

WTF.

SOMEONE DO SOMETHING?!?!

I sure as hell am not doing anything anymore...i want to be tagged out SO bad.

So an hour and half of pushing commences.

BRUTAL.

But at least I felt like I was finally allowed back in t he show that my body was putting on, I finally wasn’t fighting it, I was helping it destroy my special area.....lets be honest, at that point I would have torn that thing 3 ways from  sunday if it meant getting this thing OUT of me.

During it all Jake was there. Or so I assumed....it was like being in a coma, you can hear people around you but you know they are super far away from where you are. The pain was bad, thats true. But it was the fact that I couldn’t even breathe that made me think I was going to die.  I remember saying it at one point..or at least saying “I cant do this anymore” and Jim just smiling and saying “oh madi, women do it all the time, you re doing it right now!”

If I could have lifted my leg to kick mr positivity in the face ...i would have.

I remember Jake telling me I was pushing so well...and then Jim saying “madi, I need you to push like 50% harder”

Again, he was lucky I was too overwhelmed and in too much pain to lift that leg up. If I could have spoken it would have been something along of the lines of “LISTEN JIM, have YOU ever done this before?! And where the FUCK is my god damned epidural you all promised me?!”

Sorry for the curses...but lets just be honest about what I would have ACTUALLY said, my politeness would have been out the window hours ago.

SO Jim wanted 3 pushes with each contraction, so I started giving him 4 , that shut him up pretty quick. And made me feel better, because I could feel the baby coming, and I was DESPERATE to get him out.

So the whole process proceeded, me pushing and popping blood vessels in my face, jake holding my leg back, Jim chatting about what he had for dinner, and a fast forming team of health professionals arriving in my room.

I remember Jim telling someone in the room, “oh the baby will be here in ten mintues tops”

And I remember thinking, “whos baby? Not mine I tell you that. Im about to pass out any minute and then you jerks are going to HAVE to give me a Csection and the epidural you promised me”

I felt the baby crowning, and the whole “ring of fire” Jazz...but to be honest, I barely noticed it through the pain of the contractions, it was SO overwhelming. I think thats what the worst part was, the pain sucks HUGE for sure, but it was the over stimulation, the contractions were SO hard and so ...heavy almost? That the sharp pain of the baby crowning , the ring of fire pain, was nothing I could even compare to the pain of the contractions, because the pain of the contractions was so ...HEAVY.

Sorry I cant really think of any other word for it. My descriptive words seem to fail me when it comes to describing birth....all I can say is, when you do it...you will know too how hard it is to explain to people who haven’t.

Then baby’s head was out. It was sudden, but I also felt it coming for awhile. Then one more push and he was out.  And he was on me.

EVEN though the nurses had asked me if I wanted him on me right after he was born and I SHOOK MY Head which in my language means “no thank you” or “GOD NO” either or, depending on the situation.

So I have this big blue baby on me. And like 3 nurses rubbing him to make him cry since the umbilical cord had been wrapped around his little neck. I remember thinking what the HELL is going on? Why are so many people shaking me? Why is this baby blue? How was something THIS BIG inside my tummy?

He started crying and they finally took him off me and did what they had to do.  He weighed in at 8lbs. Born at 3:05 am.

I didn’t actually get to hold the little guy for about an hour after he was born, mr placenta took its sweet time coming out and then I needed stitches. But seeing Jake holding this tiny perfect little baby, was amazing. I didn’t need to hold him, because seeing Jake holding him made me feel like I was already on top of the world. Also because thank the good lord my body was no longer in a state of utter revolt.

Literally right after he was out, I felt 85% better. And once that placenta came out, and ALL the pressure inside me was gone, I felt 100% better. Its amazing how fast your body goes from making you think you are about to die, to being just fine. I remember clearly in my mind, getting up from the bed with my nurse and walking into the bathroom and thinking first of all 1. How am I walking? How am I living right now? And 2. WHY DO I STILL LOOK PREGNANT?!

Oh yeah. You still have the stomach of a pregnant woman, except now you push on it and it goes ALLLLLLL the way in. Nasty.

It does go down significantly even within a week but good god, standing up from t hat table I felt pretty gyped.

Birth is like something beyond yourself takes over your body and just has its way.  You go along for the ride pretty much. Which for me was hard to c ome to grips with,  since im a huge control freak.  And you’re still locked inside your head, so when you become in so much pain you cant breathe, you can still talk to yourself, and can hear yourself thinking “this is it....its over...i had a good run..but im done now” your body is still in gear, full throttle for the finish line. Its definitely better once you get to participate and actually push, because your body LOVES having help from your head, and you do get some control back finally.

Walking over to the maternity ward was bizarre also. Here I am WALKING, wheeling a cart with my own brand new little person in it....HOW AM I ALIVE? HOW IS HE HERE?

Shit.

Mind=blown.

Also, every SINGLE muscle in my body hurt. Like literally. Even my fingers. EVERYTHING hurt. But I was just SO thankful to not be in the midst of birthing a baby anymore so I was thankful. Jake says I was so sore because the doctor kept moving me around, putting my legs into weird positions to get the baby out. Apparently I gave birth in the “lotus” position.....lotus is just a nice word for foot palms together and knees at your ears.  Apparently giving birth makes you more flexible than you think you are....or you just cant hear the muscles tearing since you are the midst of ...well....other things.

So Sam was finally here. I was so so thankful. I AM so so thankful.

And now...for the question: would you do it again?

If you had asked me the month after....NO.

If you ask me now.....sigh. Chalk me up to those crazy women because I would. In a heartbeat.

The prize is really, truly worth the race.

Which is something you just don’t know until you win it.

And on November 23^rd, I won.

What Pregnancy is via cartoon.

Pregnancy isnt for the mild hearted couple. If you plan on gettin involved in this mess of a game called growing a human with another person, then make sure you like that person ALOT, cause let me tell you...it aint pretty for most of the time. I have cartooned just some of the "beauty" of pregnancy to clarify why its important to love the person you are doing it with....cause if you were just "so so" before...its going to get messy...fast....both literally and metaphorically.

Here we are. Happy couple meet pregnancy.

Pregnancy: " Oh hi there, you two look like a lovely couple, why dont i join you for nine months?

Couple: "sure! then we get to have a baby at the end of it!"

Pregnancy: "Oh sorry, did i forget to mention that you still have to love her through endless days of vomitting?"

Boy: "oh....thats okay..."

Pregnancy: "Oh did i forget to tell you that her belly will become much much larger than a watermelon under her skin?
Boy: "oh...well thats okay! that just means theres a baby in there..."

Pregnancy: "Oh did i mention that that big baby belly is going to become marked up with red and purple lines because im making her grow too fast? "
Boy: "oh....well...those will fade...its all a part of the process..."

Pregnancy: "alas, i may not have told you that i am going to make her extremities swell also. They will probably twice the size, and having her put shoes on will be a really big effort"

Boy: "oh dear....well we can work on elevating them up..."

Pregnancy: " Whoops, also, because of everythign else that has gone on physically to her, she also will now become super emotional and horomonal throughout this whole process...so you may notice she cries more and throws mini tantrums for no reason.."

Boy: " I wish there was something i could do to help..."

Pregnancy: Oooooh, right...and you are going to see her in a very messy, very intimate way when that baby decides to come out...there will be bad words and some images you will wish you hadnt seen"

Boy: "Holy cow."

Pregnancy: " congratulations for making it through....now you get the prize."

Boy: "totally worth it."

So. Its a process. But people keep telling me its a worthwhile one :)

Whoopsies.

Dear Lower Extremities.

Unfortunately I had forgotten about you until just recently. Yes I knew you were there but to be honest, as long as you were getting gme up and out of bed, I didn’t remember I used to maintain you somewhat. So when I looked down last week and saw hair growing its own little forest on my neglected legs I was actually surprised. I also noticed that my skin was tight and dry. This is because I had been focusing so much on making sure my swelling, overstretched, hugely tight tummy was being greased up to prevent stretch marks which turned out to be a huge waste of time.  So I put it on my list of things to do: shave legs. I got into my tiny corner shower and attempted this.  You can imagine how bad that turned out. Since I can barely turn around in this shower, me attempting to lift a leg and then bend to shave it....there was cave man noises and alot of swear words. I got out and sat down for ten minutes to regain both my sanity and my breath.  Epic fail.

So I drew a bath for myself. Sounds nice. Warm water, nice smelling soaps, and a nice relaxing environment for my big pregnant body.   First of all, I don’t fit in this bathtub that well anymore either. I definitely don’t submerge even a little bit. Id actually go as far as to say I  can only submerge like 60% of my body now.  So I settled in, picked up my razor, and went to shave my legs. I now realise that when I attempt to bend over to put shoes on and its impossible so I quit...that its the same motion I make when I would be sitting straight legged and reaching for my calves. Either way, again, it was less that successful. So after LITERALLY 15 minutes of me maneuvering my legs and my hand to half ass shave the forest off my legs, I quit. It wasn’t perfect, ....it wasn’t even adequate, but It felt like a success.

Then moisturizer....well to be honest, at this point was just utterly defeated by this whole lower extremity p rocess so Jake puts lotion on my legs at night time now. Because I can lead against a wall and elevate my leg up. Pathetic I know, but these are the realities of a woman whos belly exceeds the realms of normal body proportions.

I also literally CANNOT breathe lately. I couldn’t breathe WELL before, but now its seriously the hugest effort. I yawn and my diaphragm hits my uterus and I flinch in pain and only get half the yawn out.  Its a sad process.

I also had a fun time last weekend....not. I apparently picked up some sor t of bug and it landed me in the hospital. Apparently vomiting and diarrhea for a prego is super bad news....well thats what my uterus started telling me around 4 am when it started contracting about every 20 minutes.  No shit.  Well actually lots of shit. Hahahaha, TMI I know.  So after I continued to vomit even pedialyte and water aggressively and with serious abdominal pain to the point that I couldn’t catch my breath,  Healthlink and my sister advised a quick trip into the hospital. 

Quick trip. Right. Apparently I was in kind of rough shape. Vital sign wise, heart rate was too high, blood pressure was low and I kept vomiting while they were trying to get some numbers on the watermelon in my tummy. Then those numbers came back not great either, poor little pumpkin had a heart racing way faster than a teenage girl who just met justin beieber.  SO, start the fluid resuscitation. Open IV lines into the arm and push as much volume as possible,  super super super shitty. Plus gravol and continous fetal monitoring, and apparently regular contractions.  Sigh. So I fall asleep and wake up with a fever. I knew what that meant. Fever=madi stays in hospital.  Boo urns.  So 18 hours, 5L of fluid, 3 blood draws, 5 doses of gravol, 10 hours of listening to the babies heart rate, and a very sore IV site and they let me leave.

Needless to say, I was exhausted, like beyond exhausted. I was a walking zombie....a walking very swollen and hole filled zombie mamma.  Its been 3 full days since I have been out and im finally able to do laundry and make myself meals without needing to  nap for 3 hours. Pregnancy makes everything magnified I have learned. But that makes sense I guess .I mean, normally, I could recooperate fine in a day or two, this wasn’t an even match up though. I had a baby growing in me too. So I had only half the toughness I usually do.  Sigh.  Either way though, we all pulled through just fine and I think the only real damage done was the emotional stress on poor Jake.

Now. I am beyond beyond swollen. I wake up and the side of the face ive been sleeping on is so swollen that my eye barely opens and my jaw is sore to move.  Then I get up and my feet and hands explode out .And I pee every  15 minutes now. Because the fluid is starting to come out...but my bladder cant take much more than like 50cc of fluid since the baby is on it...it makes for a challenging day.

Im going to post pictures of my huge feet...and my huge belly.