2nd Best

I am fairly certain that during the week George either prefers Rob to me or has seriously got her punishment/ manipulative game on, in which case, Bravo, she got that from me.
Sure, when I walk in the door, I get this HUGE smile.  However, once I wash my hands and come over to pick her up, she's pretty much over it.  I may be projecting, but it is as if she remembers that I was not home all day and just for that, she is going to be withholding now.  Whereas with Daddy, who did not abandon her, she has nothing but smiles and giggles, for mommy it is more of a "meh, sure you can sit next to me," kinda deal.
This causes me to spend all weekend trying to make it up to her.  I get all up in her face and try to give her all my attention and love and good vibes.  This works. By Sunday she is pretty much "I want mommy,"  putty in my hands, but come Monday, I am out the door again.
I was just reading a friends post about the COMPLETE HORSESHIT maternity leave at her work and it made me want to cry.  I remember being so grateful to the very generous (by U.S. standards) maternity leave policy at my work.  I remember talking to a couple other  mom managers at my work who said they were so ready to come back after the allotted paid 12 weeks.  When my twelve weeks were up, I was certainly not ready to come back, but I felt this incredible guilt that I was not.  I felt like I was being a slacker.  Not because anyone at work was overtly pressuring me to go back.  I certainly could have used vacation time to extend my leave.  But there is definitely this culture at work, this tone of conversation, that is not necessarily as open as we say we are to family flexibility.  That said I am ridiculously fortunate to work where I work.  I flex my schedule to go in and leave early and I am able to work from home most Fridays.
Being a working mom is so ridiculously hard.  Not only for the logistics of everything (which, to toot my own horn, I think I am handling pretty adeptly, b/c I am a bad ass project manager) but for all the emotional turmoil that you are working through.
1. Guilt over abandoning your child at home and not being there for them every second
2. Guilt over being glad that you can pass over responsibility of your baby for a while and do your own thing.
3. Guilt over being happy to not have to feed and clean up after her.
4. Confusion and guilt over the "what do I want to do with my career now?" conundrum.  I have been getting encouragement to move up in the organization now and I think pre-baby i would have been all over it.  Now I find myself wondering
- if this would be more hours working and thusly away from my child.
- am I being a bad feminist for not jumping on this opportunity? I mean I know I am not b/c that is not my kind of feminism, but am I?

There are things I haven't told you about my healing process

I think I mentioned that I did indeed have a tear giving birth.  Apparently, it was not severe but in a weird "y" shape.  I was never able to see it, so I'll just have to take the midwife's word for it. I also, strangely, never really asked Rob to investigate it.
So, they say that you are supposed to be fully healed after 6 week right?  Well six weeks came and I had my check up. The midwife reported that the tear had not yet fully healed.  Of course I knew this already for a few reasons: 1. I still seemed to bleed a little, 2. pooping still hurt in certain areas and 3. when cleaning myself, I was generally pretty sensitive still.  However, the midwife told me to wait another week and it should be all cleared up.
So I ended up waiting until about ten weeks before deciding I was really not ok.  I remember mentioning to a friend at eight weeks that I was still having pain and she had had two kids already and said that was not "ok" and I needed to get it checked out.  Of course, I waited until ten weeks.
At this point, I did start to investigate with a mirror and let Rob take a look.  I'll warn you know, that from here on out this post will get pretty graphic.  Basically I had a tear at the base of my oval shaped opening.  Now this is embarrassing, I don't really know what anything is specifically called down there from an anatomy point of view, so I will do my best to describe.  The tear was basically right above the taint at the bottom of my vagina?  Do women have taints?  So when Rob and I investigated, it looked, to me, like I had a blood blister growing in this general vicinity.  I couldn't tell if there was still an open tear there. It kinda looked like it , but we are not medical doctors.
So I could not get a follow up appointment with the midwife and ended up going to the nurse practitioner associated with the obgyn side of the practice to get things checked out.  Let me take a moment here to say if given the option, I am pretty much always happy to see a nurse practitioner or physicians assistant instead of a doctor.  I find them to be more laid back and just easier to talk to.
So I went in, undressed and the lady took a look and started commenting that the tear had not healed and that I might need to go in for stitches, which was not a procedure they could take care of in the office.  I'm all like "WTF? Whose got time to go do an outpatient procedure. I am hoping to not see the inside of a hospital again for some time."  She says that she is going to get the doctor though to come and take a look and whisks out of the room.  She did not tell me that a) the doctor was a man or that b) he and another nurse would be coming in to take a look at my hoo haw.  Now generally, this wouldn't have bothered me.  Especially since giving birth, I have gotten a lot less concerned about my nakedness in front of strangers.  I was just a little annoyed that she didn't talk through this with me.  This is the first difference I noted between the midwife approach vs. obgyn approach.
The doctor came in, got down there and said I had Granulation Tissue that had grown over the wound.  He got up, went to the cabinet and came back with something in his hand.  He told me he was going to use silver nitrate to burn off the tissue.  This was difference number two compared to the midwives. He just assumed he could do this to me without really any consultation or allowing me to ask any questions.  At the time, I was more concerned from hearing I might have to get surgery so if he could take care of it now, fine by me.
So I let him burn off the skin and boy howdy it was painful.  Not as rough as giving birth, but it stung... alot. I left the office with an appointment to come back in a week to check on things. I was sore/ in pain for the following three days.
I went back the following week and he said everything looked good.  To be honest it all feels a lot better, but I think there might be some lingering issues even now.  I'm just too lazy to go back and get it looked at and clearly they are not bothersome enough to motivate me or prevent me from any of my regularly scheduled activities.

Blood Tears and Breastmilk

Returning to work was predictably hard. I spent the first mornings hour long commute plotting to become a real estate agent trying not to cry and the afternoons screaming at cars to get out of my way. My road rage has increased notably since becoming a working mom. Why are all these jag offs on the road keeping me from my baby? I am no longer apologetic about using the lane that I know is ending to jump to the front of a line of traffic. Suck it, my baby is only awake for a couple more hours.
Things have mellowed out a bit emotionally.  That is not to say that Monday mornings aren't just a torture dreamed up by the devil himself, having to leave your baby after spending a blissful, albeit exhausting, weekend with her.  It is just that I am getting more used to it. That said, I did have a surprise one of the first weeks I was back that threw me for a loop.
Let me preface this story by letting you know that I, and I have since learned most other pumping working moms, live in constant fear of my milk running out.  I have yet to try any of the natural remedies, ie- fenugreek, but I do try to pump as often as possible at work.  I have scheduled for three times a day, and when I am lucky, I can get in a fourth.  I also pump once before going to bed.  G is eating almost 5 oz at each feeding, so trying to produce this is certainly stressful.  It felt like as soon as I started working, her appetite jumped up dramatically.  Hence all the extra pumping.
Well, you breasfeeding moms may be aware that you can squeeze your boob in order to get more out.  Truth be told, the pump works, but nothing is as efficient as breast to mouth contact.  So I find myself trying to squeeze every last drop out pretty often.  
One day, I am squeezing away, and when I detach, I find that there is blood mixed in the milk on the pump.  W...T...F..?  I was shocked and concerned.  Obviously, my first thought is tumor because while I think my emotional roller coaster has improved, it has certainly not gone extinct.  I immediately start texting and emailing Rob.  I look at the milk and note a pinkish hue to what my right brest has recently expelled.  I don't know what to do.  Is it safe for the baby to drink?  Should I be icing my boob? What is going on.
I put the milk in the fridge still uncertain.  I got back to my desk and after googling, learn that it is a not too uncommon experience.  That I have likely popped a capillary in my boob and that baby can drink this milk.  It should heal in a couple days if not sooner.
So I got home that night and gave G the bloody milk and hoped she would not turn into a vampire.  Well in Africa it is common to drink cow's blood as your daily sustenance. I assume my boob blood is better than cow's blood so I'm not going to worry about it.  I'm also not going to squeeze with as much gusto going forward.

Pumping Woes

Last Monday...

This morning, I could not find my badge once I got here. Normally in my cup holder, I changed purses this weekend and assumed I left it in the other one.

This is not an issue until I realize, at my desk, when I am ready to go down to pump b/c I am about to explode, you need to badge into the mother’s room.

I go ask Alex at the front desk. She calls security, they say it is facilities’ job. Facilities doesn’t open until 8 am.  I wait until 8 and call.  They say it is security’s job. I call security.  The guys is like, nooooo that’s not our thing, so I will check with my manager.

8:20, I need to pump for a damn 9 am meeting.  I call security again and they explain they are no longer allowed to let people into the Mother’s room.  Why b/c security is not trustworthy? But they are still trying to figure out what they can do.

So I go out to my car to TCOB.  So I get harnessed up almost fully and Rob calls and is like, are you sure you don’t have your badge?   So with a car seat in the way, I start searching under the seats and lo and behold I find my badge.

I pull my shirt down over the harness and wrap a scarf around myself and run inside to the mother’s room to pump.  And now I am heading to a meeting and I am not going to let security know that I found my badge b/c HELLO, why is there not a contingency plan for this?

Have a good Monday!  I have averted having a minor breakdown so things can only look up from here.

Dry Skin

As the title above suggests, Georgie has dry skin.  I noticed it ages ago but then it quickly got a lot worse once the weather changed and we started using soap to bathe her.  I probably should have realized this might be coming as babies obviously have very delicate skin and on top of that her dad has dermotographia and her mom has keratosis (which by the way has gotten dramatically worse on my legs since giving birth... wtf?).
I also get notoriously dry skin and am terrrrriiibbbllle about moisturizing. Now is my chance to turn around Georgie's skin fortune though!  Teach her the good grooming habits that her gross mother never adopted.  I first noticed the dry skin on G when we went to brunch and I met another baby with THE SOFTEST SKIN EVER!  I asked about it and his dad said that his mom rubbed him down iwht olive oil after every bath.  It made the baby's skin soft and fattened him up when he would suck on his hands. Double win!
I started combating the dry skin with coconut oil.  This treatment was recommended to me by our nanny.  I happened to have some on hand thanks to one of my sister's best friend who claims to use and believe in the power of coconut oil in the same fashion that the dad in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," uses Windex.  Rash? Coconut oil! Cracked nipple? Coconut oil!  Gaping wound? Coconut oil! Actually, maybe I should try it on my keratosis.
I started to rub our little girl down daily with the coconut oil on her arms and legs.  It seemed to keep the patches on her arms from getting worse but her legs seemed to be getting even scalier.  I decided to supplement with olive oil.  Again, this seems to have had no impact on her poor little legs.
Yesterday, we pulled out the big guns.  We have started using my Windex cure all, Aquaphor Baby.  I say we because I am asking the nanny to do one coat in the morning and then I give her a good rub down in the afternoon.We still put just coconut oil and olive oil on her arms still. That way when she is sucking on those flying sausage monsters, she is only consuming some all natural fatty goodness.  But her legs get a good dose of that miracle ointment.  This morning, it seems to have somewhat of an impact, so we will keep this up for a while.
All that said, I have to say, giving Georgie her rub down is awesome.  She gets so cute and really seems to enjoy the massage.  I normally rub her arms and legs down for about half an hour and she is all squirmy and cooing.  While she does not talk, I feel like we are having a conversation and she is saying how good she feels.  It does worry me that the dry sking might be bothering her since the rub down does appear to provide "relife." but maybe I am misinterpreting this and she just really likes the massage.  Anyway, I will let you know how it goes and if we ever reach success.  In the meantime, I am inclined to stop using the soap and limit how much we are bathing her to help with this.

Transitioning

Before Georgie was born, we decided we would go the route of Co-sleeping. Our reasoning behind this was mostly logistical.  It seemed like it would be much more convenient for night time feedings and diaper changes if she was already in the room with us.  Upon execution this proved to be true, but there were other benefits as well.
We got a co-sleeper, which is like a bassinet that attaches to the bed and set it up partially before Georgie even came home. All that remained was to attach it to the bed.  This proved to be more of a trial than I had anticipated.  First Rob set it up on my side of the bed, but due to spacing issues it had to be set up at my feet, not ideal.  Next we decided to switch it to Rob's side of the bed and that I would sleep on that side going forward.  Apologies to Rob for not figuring all this out in advance.
Having Georgie in the room with us was amazing.  It allowed me to monitor her, which really put my mind at ease.  Beyond that, it added to our bonding time.
During this time, I also allowed Georgie to sleep in the bed with us on occasion.  We mostly did this when either a) she was having trouble falling back asleep or b) it was morning time and we just wanted another hour or so in bed.  Something about putting her in between us and laying on my side drifting off looking at her drift off is just magic.  Also knowing that she was able to fall asleep so easily in between her parents made me feel just amazing.  There is some innate sense in her that is comforted by being so close to us. That this happens, at a time when your baby is hardly acknowledging you in her waking moments, is really fulfilling.  It is just hard to describe all the feels from having the baby in bed with you.
For the first month and a half or so, I kept the My Breast Friend in bed with us. Each time I woke up to feed (every two hours). I would prop a mess of pillows up behind me and strap in.  This was a lot to go through, but I really did not feel capable of feeding any other way.  At about 5 or 6 weeks I think, I tried just feeding laying down, where she would sidle up next to me and I would pop a nipple in her mouth while lying down on my side.  You may not know this folks, but no two bobs are exactly alike.  The shape and nipple placement on one of my boobs is slightly different from the other, thus requiring me to finagle Georgie and my boob into different positions depending on the side we were on.  None-the-less, feeding in bed without the pillow barrage is still infinitely easier.  Though, I will note, feeding in bed like this does introduce a lot more fluids on to your sheets, but I can discuss that in the breast feeding post.
Anyway, all of this is to say, we kept her in the room with us at the beginning.  At about 4 weeks, I did start asking folks when they transitioned to having baby sleep in another room.  Their answers were varied in terms of timing from one month to three up to six but they all expressed the same sentiment that once they moved the baby out of the room they all started sleeping better. So I had it in my mind that at 6 weeks we would try putting her in her own room.
Once that date was upon us, I found I just could not do it.  I did not want to separate from her. I was not ready.  So I told myself, next week.  We can try next week.  I think it was on the Thursday when she actually turned 7 weeks, she slept 7 hours that night.  Which was shocking and worrying to me, when I woke up at 4 am and she had not yet gotten me up to feed.  I pretty much thought she was dead.  In fact she had rolled to the mesh side of the sleeper and was pressed up against it.  Again, causing me to think she had some how suffocated on mesh...?  Once you have a kid, you will spend half your worrying time sure that they cannot breathe and are chocking on something.  Trust me.
Anyway, next night same thing happened and that was what put me over the edge.  No more mesh, time to try the crib.
So Saturday night, we get everything all set up in her room and do our bottle, changing diaper, changing clothes, swaddling routine and put her down in her own room in her crib.  Easy right? No, the entire time leading up to and going through her night time routine I have this feeling welling in my chest.  This painful anxiety, remorse and misery overload.  My thoughts were going something like this: "What if she thinks we are abandoning her?  Will she resent us? How will she sleep without my smell right by her side?  What if she stops breathing? What if she asphixiates on her spit up and I am not there to hear it?  What if there is an intruder in our house?  What if i look up in the middle of the night and see these hands reaching into her crib to grab her?  Worse yet, what if I don't se ethe hands? What if monsters in the closet/ under the bed are real?  What is a zombie apocalyse happens tonight?"
So as we were getting ready to put her down, I started crying.  Crying crying crying. I did manage to separate myself from her and then spend practically the entire night staring at the monitor to make sure she was ok.  We also had the monitor on full blast, so every hiccup and every fart came through loud and clear.  I am comforted to know that if she does start choking I will be able to hear it.  And you know what happened that first night?  Nothing.  she slept 7 hours again and couldn't have given a damn if she was in the room with us or not.  INGRATE! Just kidding, I could not be happier that she seems to have dodged a bullet when it comes to inheriting her mother's rather ridiculous overactive imagination.
I still find myself staring at the monitor in the middle of the night to be sure I see her chest rising and falling, but I feel a lot less guilty about abandoning her to her own room.  I am hoping to get five to six hours of sleep some night soon.

Birth Story: Trip to Rockville

Tuesday, June 22nd 2014

The Friday prior was my last day at work because I just couldn’t stand it any more.  Nothing major to report except that this day I had been really prone to crying, at like anything: Highlights from ‘99 women’s world cup, Getting news that Georgie had not yet “engaged” so labor was probably a few days or a week off, lots of things.

Wednesday, June 23 2014

I spent the morning puttering around the house and planning what I wanted to make for dinner.  I ran to Trader Joes at lunch and filled the car with gas.  I got home put things away, marinated some chicken in yogurt and decided that I should probably take a nap.  I laid down about 1 pm and was woken up at about 2 pm feelings kind of crampy.  I knew this could be a sign, but I didn’t want to get overly excited as I had on pretty much all the days leading up to this one two weeks out.  Seriously, I had no idea what labor was like so every time I farted, I thought it might be labor.

After the nap, I came downstairs and watched TV and felt like the cramping was getting worse.  At about 3 pm I felt like I was possibly having “contractions,” but felt like I wasn’t sure.  After all, I didn’t think my water had broken. I had not lost my mucous plug and the baby was not “engaged.”  

Rob was working so I went back to his office around 3:30 and asked if we could go on a walk soon as we had been doing every day.  He said sure and at 4 we were off.  On the walk I told him that I thought maybe I was having contractions but could not be sure yet.  Well on the walk, we had to stop several times so I could let them pass.  But again, I thought I was maybe just being melodramatic and this was just gas or something.

By the time we got back to the house, I felt more convinced that it was in fact labor, but I was not yet sold.  I decided to continue with the plan of making dinner etc. and Rob went back to work. At that time I was IMing with Laura and told her I was pretty sure I was in labor but to not tell anyone yet in case I was crazy.   

I made greek salad and we grilled chicken, eating dinner around 7 pm.  I had to stop several times and lean over for contractions while cooking and Rob started getting excited.  Again, I can call these “contraction,” now but at the time, I was not convinced.

During dinner, I remember having to stop eating for a very noticeable contraction.  Knowing that I might not get another chance, I told Rob that I was going to lie down, around 8 pm, to try and get some rest.  Rob said he was going to do more work.

I went upstairs, put on PJ’s, laid down and quickly realized there was no way I was going to sleep.  In fact, the contractions had gotten a lot worse.  At this point, I was almost positive this was labor.  I think we had started trying to track these “contractions” around 6 pm, but they were so random at that time it did not really work out.  By 8 pm, I was able to track them.  I believe at that time they were about 15 - 30 minutes apart 45 sec- 1 min long.  I came downstairs and decided to watch TV on my own since Rob was still working.  We still were not 100% sure this was labor BTW. I watched a bunch of “Don’t Trust the B in Apartment 23.”.  Later on, Rob finished working and I told him I was pretty sure this was labor and my contractions were 15 minutes apart.  

At that point he went into “get ready mode” flying around the house, cleaning the kitty litter, taking out trash, just getting all these little things done if we were going to be going to the hospital.  Afterwards, he came and sat with me and we put on Aziz Ansari “Buried Alive,” which funnily enough is his standup bit about how having children ruins lives.  I turned to Rob and asked, “Is this irony?” and he told me it was.  We had gotten through most of that when I decided that I wanted to try getting in the shower as the contractions had gotten worse and were closer together.  They were almost ten minutes apart lasting one minute each.  We abandoned the timer at this point for about an hour.  We got in the shower, which was pretty helpful.  After that I said I wanted to try and bath.  That was very nice for the time in between the contractions, but did not make much of a difference when I was going through them.  Rob sat with me and the cats came in to explore what the hell was going on.  My original pain plan of concentrating on the cats as a distraction started not working, nor was just breathing through them.  I started vocal chanting through them, which provided some relief.  

Eventually, we got out of the bath and went upstairs and I was feeling pretty terrible at this point.  We started timing the contractions again.  During this time, II tried myriad of positiong to help with the pain,: walking around the house, hands and knees position, sitting on the bouncy ball.  We found that they had increased to 1 minute long every five minutes.  At 1 pm, we decided to call Susan and the midwives to the let them know that we were going to try and labor from home a bit longer but would be in shortly.  Susan started to get ready to come over.  By about 2pm, I was miserable and telling Rob I wanted to go to the hospital and at this point I wasn’t sure I wanted to go natural after all.  At 2:30, I was moaning that we had to leave and leave now.  Rob ran around packing up the car and by the time we were in the driveway, Susan arrived.  I had a contraction in the driveway that she held me through and I told her I wanted an epidural at the hospital after all.

I got in the back seat thinking that I might try and do hands and knees.  I tried for a hot second but could not.  Instead, I writhed in the seat as Rob drove around the curvy beltway, wincing at every bump in the road and turn.  We got to the hospital and pulled into the emergency room entrance.  Walking in, the front desk pointed us down the hall to the elevators.  No wheelchair offered.  I walked down the hall and crumpled in the elevator.  When we arrived on the floor, Rob had to hit the hold door open button until I could walk to the front desk where I again crumpled.  Then I sent Rob to get all the paperwork for the hospital, which we had left in the car.  They wheeled a chair out for me and brought me to triage as Rob was doing this and they were like “was anyone with you?” “My husband,” I responded in a haze.  “well where did he go?” they asked exasperated. I tried to explain for a minute but then another contraction hit.  I ended up just writhing around on the triage bed and projecting  my vocal toning.  They did a quick check of my cervix and saw that i was 6 cm dilated.  At that point things moved pretty quickly.  Rob showed up and they escorted us to our room. I mistakenly chose to walk and at one point I dropped down with a contraction.  I had a nurse on one side and Rob was behind me and I ended up grabbing onto someone who else turned out to be a Doctor. I remember the nurse explicitly thanking her and to me that really highlighted the dichotomy b/t the nurses and doctors.  Nurses were there to help patients to the room, Doctors were not but in this case was lending a hand.

I finally got on the bed in the labor and delivery room.  I got on my hands and knees swinging around to try and stem the pain.  I told them in triage that I wanted an epidural, and asked again in the new room, but they had to get a litre of fluid in me first to keep my blood pressure up.  After that point, where possible, I kept asking when that would be happening and could someone squeeze the bag of fluid to speed things up.

Eventually, the anesthesiologist showed up and boy did we have some adventures from there.

So, to get an epidural, you need to sit upright on the edge of the bed as still a possible, curled around a pillow so that your back is arched like a halloween cat.  This is so they can place the epidural b/t your vertebrae, I think. Anyway, the doctor then gives you a local anaesthetic shot, which is just a slight pinch.  Then they insert a larger needle into your spine and feed a catheter through it.  Then they give you a test dose to make sure everything is alright and then they leave the catheter in and tape you up and the epidural is set to give you regular doses.  This is what happens ideally.  This is not how it worked for me.

The doctor had me sit up on the edge of the bed as described above.  Remember, you are trying to do this, while having contractions, which are just so unbearably painful.  She gets the local in and then tells me I was listing to the left and to sit more centered.  I try to adjust but it is really difficult.  She get the needle and catheter in and delivers the test dose.  They ask me a series of questions about how I am feeling, do I have ringing in my ears.  “No ringing but like an echoing in my ears.” It was like having metal shells over your ears if I had to describe it.  Thinking this was a bad sign, she pulls out the needle and catheter and decides to try a new spot.  

She does the local, inserts the needle and cannot get the catheter inserted and it hurts.  It is like someone is pinching a nerve along your spinal cord.  Eventually she gives up and decides to try a new spot.  Meanwhile I’ve been having contractions throughout that process and she keeps telling me I a listing left and to try and stay centered. Moreover, my robe keeps falling down and the nurse keeps trying to hold it up for me, as if I fucking care, as if I have a shed of modesty here. My husband and doula just escorted me to the bathroom where I had a righteous poop that smelled none-too good.  Honestly, as soon as I got to the hospital and they told me to disrobe, I would have been fine doing it in public b/c who cares at that point.  I remember thinking I was going to be nervous to be so naked in front of so many people for the labor.  Nope, wrong, not an issue, I didn’t care a lick.  Honestly, in a matter of hours these people were going to see me poop myself, so, who really cares.  I would have been happy completely naked for the process, no robe needed.  The doctor again does the local, does the needle and gets the catcher in though I still complain about the pinching.  The test does goes in and I don’t have any of the bad symptoms and I feel like ok maybe yeah that last contraction was not as bad.  She tapes up my back, like seriously tapes it all up so that nothing is going anywhere and I lay back down.    alright, back to the epidural.  I laid down all taped up and the doctor stays around to make sure it is working after the three attempts already.  Your contractions are supposed to get milder and then further apart.  Mine did not.  

The contractions got more intense and were coming more quickly.  I am looking up at the ceiling and trying to cry but am so dry and asking god or whoever why this is not working.  I am taking deep huge breaths with each contraction and letting them out with some vocal chanting “Hoooooe’s”  Meanwhile I am shaking my head side to side in a “No” fashion.  Susan the Doula is really good in seeing me through this.  She is good at “holding the space.”  She cannot save me from myself or this pain but she is reassuring and convinces me to nod my head “yes” instead of “no” and it honestly helps.  The nurses and midwife do get a little concerned that I will start to hyperventilate so with each contraction I also have someone telling me to slow down my breathing.  All this heavy breathing is causing my mouth to dry out as well.

Anyway, the third epidural does not work.  The doctor decides to try again.  They sit me up, un-tape my back and she finds a new spot; anesthesia, needle, catheter, test dose.  They tape me up, lay me down and again nothing happens.  By this point, I am in transition, which is when your contractions don’t stop.. They keep coming, one after the other.  I think I have never experienced 10 level pain until this point.  It is beyond shocking how painful it is.  Shocking is the best way I can describe it.  Unbelievable is a close second, truly unimaginable.  My internal mantra at this point becomes “You are not dying.”  Like you have to remind yourself that this is not death, this is natural and despite the pain everything is ok.  Aloud all I can say is “why” and respond “no” when they ask if it is working.  

Since we started with the epidurals, this process has taken two to three hours.  I am starting to feel like I could push if need be.  They check my dilation and I am over 9 but under 10 still so not quite time.  Of course, I am sitting there thinking, man I really don’t want to have to push now but I also want this to be over. I don’t know how women do it.  I was exhausted.  I don’t know how after all that you are meant to have the energy to push. That said, if I could, I would start pushing just to do something, just to have this end.

So far, four attempted epidurals and all have failed.  The doctor feels terrible but can’t seem to do anything and the nurse is PISSED.  She calls the head of the department and tells him to come down and take care of me.  He shows up a while later and even now i look back and picture him arriving with a halo around his head.  He decides first to try and fix the catheter.  They roll me over and remove the tape. He comments that is seems like an excessive amount of tape.  He finagles with the catheter and tapes me back up.  He waits through three contractions, which are not any better and I cannot really speak through except for my Hooooooe-ing  He apologizes but says he would like to start over.  They sit me up and get me in a better position in the bed. turns out I was listing left before b/c I was sitting  awkwardly on a crack in the bed.  Zzip zoom, he is done in a matter of no time and my legs go numb and the contractions start to diminish and I want to cry except I am so out of liquid in my face area from the heavy breathing.  Everyone in the room is relieved.

Up to this point, I told the Doula I did not want to see Mom or Regan until the epidural kicked in.  Now that it has, they come back.  Man I am exhausted but so relieved and happily ten cm dialated at this point.  We decide to wait and see how far down the baby will come on her own for a while so that I will not have to push for as long and to give my body time to rest up.  

The room had been fully lit while trying for the epidurals, but once that is over they dim the lights so I can get some rest.  The room stays dimly lit all the way until we are leaving for the recovery room, which is really nice.  They give me a couple hours and examine me again.  As it turns out, my water has not yet broken.  Did you know that some babies can be born with the water in tact?  Susan is hopeful that this could be one of those as it is very auspicious.  At this point, Susan also notes that I have not been to the bathroom since the whole epidural shenanigans began.  Once you get the epidural you can no longer walk so they have to use a catheter.  Boy howdy, the nurse was surprised once she got the catheter in.  I definitely had pee.  Like, a lot of pee.  Getting this out felt great and also created less tension for the baby to float down.

During this time I am resting, falling in and out of sleep.  It is hard to really fall asleep b/c I am anxious about when I will start pushing and excited to meet George.  They also said, I would feel a pressure at some point, like I had to poop, and a natural inclination to push.  While the contractions are barely noticeable at this point, I can still tell when I am having one, which is ideal for when I do need to push.

Eventually, they decide to break my water to see if that will help things along.  They basically take a hooked stick and poke it up there.  The amniotic fluid comes out and apparently looks great.  In fact, throughout this process they had been monitoring George and she never once appeared to be in distress so everything really is going great.  We wait a little bit longer and then the midwives decide we should go ahead and try pushing.  By this point the contractions are slowed down, with several minutes in between each one.

This is the best part of labor and when I say delivering George was the best experience of my life, I am mostly talking about this point.  They offered to bring in a mirror and I accepted.  I really recommend this.  It is really neat to see.  I started out on my back with Rob holding one leg and the doula holding the other. When I felt a contraction coming on, I would take a deep cleansing breath, release and then another that I pushed down on for ten seconds and another, pushing for ten seconds and another.  I got the hang of pushing after the first try b/c I am awesome.  After a few contractions on my back, I tried from a side position, meaning I was on my side with Rob holding my leg, while I push.  Getting on to my side when the entire lower half of my body is paralyzed was a task, but we managed.  Pushing really is one of the best parts of labor.  It is hard and exhausting but it feels so good to actual be doing something finally.  I kept my eyes closed while pushing b/c it is so strenuous and I was concentrating.  Yes, you poop but I didn’t really notice and the nurse cleaned it up right after it happens so it is no big deal.  I did keep asking Rob though, “does it smell?  I think it smells. sorry.”  Looking in the mirror, once I finally started paying attention to it, I just saw blood coming out for a while and that is about it.

Eventually they put me back on my back and I kept pushing from there.  Finally, in the mirror, I could start to see the top of her head a little bit before it retreated back.  After a few more contractions, her head started to come out and not stop and the midwife was like “stop pushing stop pushing!” and I do but Georgie was coming anyway.  The midwife had to put her hand on the top of Georgie’s head to keep her from popping out.  Mostly, they want it to be a gradual process to reduce the tearing. Also the midwife needs to get set up.  Georgie comes out face up and they rotate her around for the rest of her body to squeeze out.  She had the cord around her neck but it was fine and they just unwrapped it and plopped her on my chest.  Rob and I were both crying.  They waited to clamp the cord until it had stopped pulsing and Rob cut it.  Georgie was crying and out of it.  We tried feeding and she latched on and get some colostrum in.  she has three meconium diapers that the nurse changes, which takes care of that and relieves Rob and I that we will not have to deal with those.  

After Georgie was wrapped up, Mom and Regan came back and each got to hold her in turn.  They ask me what I want to eat and earlie rI had been craving a bagel, but this was lunch time and I wanted lunch meat.  Regan ran out and got me and italian sandwich.