I started Braedon's birth story about a month after he was born... I don't know why I haven't finished it yet, I guess I just don't really think about it much. I still remember it like it was yesterday, though. Maybe posting part 1 will motivate me to do the rest of it. Enjoy!
Caster oil was tempting. Walking wasn’t helping. Sex was, well... out of the question. I looked so forward to my baby boy being born that it was hard not to push fate. I managed to be patient, reminding myself that when Braedon was ready, he would let me know.
Sunday, June 19th marks the beginning of his journey to the outside world. I awoke at exactly 3:20am. I know this because since my husband was impossible to wake up, and I didn’t want to call anyone at such an absurd hour, I booted up my computer and blogged about the pain.
My husband. I love him, that much is certain, but from the moment his head hits the pillow until the moment he rolls out of bed, he is held hostage by the sometimes wicked Sand Man. I tried waking him, eager to inform him of this exciting new pain, but to no avail. He told me to try to get comfortable and go back to sleep. I couldn’t. It wasn’t the pain that kept me up, but the excitement. The pain was mild, much like period cramps, but persistent.
After returning to bed, I laid there for the rest of the night, frustrated with the dark. I wanted it to be day. I wanted to putter around the house, making use of the last bit of the “nesting” instinct I had left. I wanted to call my mom, my friends, my work. I wanted to take a walk, go to the bank, and relish in the excitement of what was to be with my husband. Instead, I felt alone and anxious, caged by the night.
Eventually the sun began to rise, and I wasted no time before starting my day. I showered, managed to shave my legs, and dressed. My legs tingled and burned. I don’t recommend shaving at 9 months pregnant while in labor.
When Jordon finally joined me in the pre-Braedon festivities, I put him to work immediately. He called our midwife and let her know of my symptoms. She suggested we come in, but would probably send us home, as labor can last for hours. The pain was increasing, but still manageable, and I was restless and wanted to move. After arriving at Andaluz and being informed that I was dilated to about 2 cm, we decided to run errands.
First, we went to the bank which was also my place of employment. I deposited a few checks, and informed a fellow co-worker that they would probably never see me on the OTHER side of the counter again. They never did.
Our next stop was a trip to Shari’s, where my breakfast was left untouched and my stomach left empty.
A Jamba Juice sounded better, so our third stop for the day left us waiting in line for several minutes. It was there that I was certain that what I was experiencing was pre-labor, because every child under the age of 3 that came into the busy shop nearly set me to tears. They all looked so beautiful!
Finally we made it to Target. Our mission was to find a co-sleeper, as I assumed our full size bed wouldn’t be big enough for the three of us. (Turns out I was wrong about that one.) The cramps, which I later realized were indeed contractions, began to intensify at Target. While Jordon was asking for help from one of the employees, I circled the check-out counter with every contraction. I must have looked like a mad woman as I continued to circle like a vulture waiting for the inevitable death of his soon to be dinner. After leaving frustrated and empty-handed, we headed home.
The pain really began to pick up, and the fatigue started to set in. I attempted to sleep thru contractions, but only managed to sleep between them. Eventually, I felt it was time to begin tracking them, and Jordon found a contraction meter online. They were consistently 8 minutes apart and about 1 minute long for a few hours, although the pain didn’t stop intensifying. Eventually my excitement was clouded by the sheer pain of labor. It still felt like period cramps, only ten-fold. I had no back labor at this point, so I figured I was still a long way off. When my mood reached an ultimate low and talking through the pain was impossible, Jordon decided to call our midwife again, and we decided to meet her at the birthing center at 10:00 pm. Until then, more pain, more 8 minute cat naps, less Jamba Juice. I threw up, leaving me not only exhausted, but hungry as well.
The car ride was torture, plain and simple.
Once there, we settled in to the pleasant and inviting room at Andaluz. I felt comforted by the soft lit bed, tempting me to become its passenger. All I could think of was unfolding the tightly tucked blankets and crawling inside, left in peace to find a respite longer than 8 minutes. Of course this was impossible.
There was a separate room that contained the tub, and it was filled for me immediately. It looked inviting as well, the running water filling the silence with pleasant white noise. Candles were lit throughout the bathroom casting large belly shadows across the pale painted walls. I resisted the urge to jump right in, because I had read that getting in the tub too early may delay labor.
Instead, I labored on the bed with Jordon. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I labored on the bed next to Jordon. The contractions continued to get worse, and the infamous back labor began to set in. I now found it impossible to get comfortable.
My whimpers of pain began to morph into beastly groans. It’s funny how much I thought I knew about myself before giving birth. I was certain, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I would be a noiseless birther. At this point, I began to doubt that because I wasn’t even managing to be a noiseless laborer!
The night grew long, and my body grew tired. I didn’t even attempt the menial task of eating, because I continued to vomit until I had nothing left in me but water and dry heaves. I slept between contractions, although the dreams I had wore me out as much as the now excruciating contractions. I dreamed that I was laboring at work, the bank filled with snooping customers and nonchalant co-workers. With each contraction I had while dreaming, I translated it into a transaction I did at the bank. I suppose even work seemed like a vacation at that point.
I was naked now, oblivious to the midwives and apprentices that entered and left the room. In a way, I felt liberated. I had never before felt so at ease with total exposure.
After no longer being able to bear lying down, I began pacing. I paced back and forward between the bedroom and connected bathroom, moaning and whimpering as I moved. For a few of the more painful contractions, I leaned over the bed frame and swayed, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth.
When I did what was kind of a blur for most of the labor. I remember a midwife rubbing my back through contractions, I remember getting in the tub only to get out again, I remember the pacing and the dreams and the words of encouragement, I remember vomiting a few more times, but I don’t remember in what order any of it occurred.
Jordon began to get tired after a while as well. I know he felt helpless, but he can never know how much better my labor was just to have him there. Every now and then he would leave the room to update our family, who were all now waiting in the lobby, or to go to the nearby 7-11 to get an energy drink. Every time he left, I felt it. The room felt darker, colder, empty. My dreams took on an eerie, ominous tone, and I felt lonely. When he returned, all of that vanished. Being there was the most he could have done for me.
Teething
I am not one of those mothers who anxiously awaits the next stage in her child’s life, comparing them against other children, pushing them to do something they just aren’t ready to do. I make an effort to enjoy every stage that Braedon is at during any given moment, and remind myself to absorb every emotion that accompanies every action and commit it to memory. Of course I don’t hold him back, either, that would just be stupid. I challenge him when he can benefit from being challenged, and swoop him up and smother him with kisses when he just needs some love. Every stage has been marvelous.
Except this one.
Braedon is teething.
Somebody shoot me.
Please.
Two nights ago, Braedon woke up screaming probably a half a dozen times and could only be consoled by me picking him up and rocking him back to sleep. He never wakes up crying. When he is hungry, he whimpers, but does not cry. Waking up to those horrible screams was initially terrifying. Now they are just exhausting.
The next morning I checked his mouth, and sure enough, I saw a little white speck in the front of his gums. I rubbed it a few times to make sure it wasn’t a chunk of spit up then deduced that it was indeed a tooth. Yay. (Notice the lack of exclamation point...)
That day Braedon napped for about 30 minutes total, in five minute increments. I was sure that would mean he would pass out at about 9:00pm and be so tired he would sleep through all of his pain all of the next night.
At midnight, I tossed this hope out the window.
He woke up even more frequently last night, and the intensity of his screaming increased as well. Jordon kept waking up and giving me the evil-eye, like I was poking Braedon with a safety pin just to piss Jordon off. He kept saying “I can’t sleeeeep” in his annoyed voice and followed that up with an over dramatic pillow covering of the head. What did he think I was doing? Setting my Braedon alarm so I could watch my night time line up? (Which consisted of Leno, Conan, Carson ::GAG::, Texas hold’em, Leno again, Conan again, sweeper infomercial, political stuff, morning news...)
Finally, after I was ready to pull Jordon’s teeth out of his skull to see how HE would like it, he got up and moved to the couch. I tried to remain calm, I reminded myself over and over that Jordon says stuff at night that he doesn’t even remember in the morning... that he had to work the next day... I was telling myself anything I could that would help simmer my boiling blood. It wasn’t working. What did he think I was going to do all day? My arms were already throbbing and burning from holding my poor teething baby all night and day yesterday... would I be able to do it again? Braedon is the size of a small two year old and the only comfort he got was from me holding him.
Now that day two has arrived, I feel tired but not exhausted, sore but not broken. I think women are given super powers the moment they become moms. Sleep? Nice, but not a necessity. Pain? What is pain compared to the love I feel for my little guy?
Braedon is sitting in my lap, his eyes puffy and tired, his head leaning against my chest. Yesterday was the first time he has cuddled like this. It is the perfect position for me to wrap one arm around his back, and with the other free hand play with his soft, golden locks.
I remind myself again to enjoy every moment I am given with my son, for better or for worse. Wasn’t it just last blog that I was complaining about Braedon moving away from me? And now his teething has caused him to need my company more than he has for months. I close my eyes and focus on the warmth coming from his body, seeping through his clothes, through my clothes, heating my own cold body, melting the self-pity I was so recently engaging in. I listen to his breathing, peppered with whimpers of pain mixed with sleepiness, and give him a good squeeze. He looks up at me and I fake sneeze. (Don’t ask why, but he thinks this is just hilarious.) His smile looks almost out of place on his sad little face, which makes me feel for him even more.
There is wonder to behold in every aspect of parenting, good bad or ugly.
As for Jordon, no hard feelings. He is a fantastic father and a great husband... but NOTHING compares to being a mother. I wouldn’t trade places with him for anything.
Besides, whenever he realizes he has been insensitive, it is always followed up with a sucking-up period and maybe even a back rub. Fair enough.
Except this one.
Braedon is teething.
Somebody shoot me.
Please.
Two nights ago, Braedon woke up screaming probably a half a dozen times and could only be consoled by me picking him up and rocking him back to sleep. He never wakes up crying. When he is hungry, he whimpers, but does not cry. Waking up to those horrible screams was initially terrifying. Now they are just exhausting.
The next morning I checked his mouth, and sure enough, I saw a little white speck in the front of his gums. I rubbed it a few times to make sure it wasn’t a chunk of spit up then deduced that it was indeed a tooth. Yay. (Notice the lack of exclamation point...)
That day Braedon napped for about 30 minutes total, in five minute increments. I was sure that would mean he would pass out at about 9:00pm and be so tired he would sleep through all of his pain all of the next night.
At midnight, I tossed this hope out the window.
He woke up even more frequently last night, and the intensity of his screaming increased as well. Jordon kept waking up and giving me the evil-eye, like I was poking Braedon with a safety pin just to piss Jordon off. He kept saying “I can’t sleeeeep” in his annoyed voice and followed that up with an over dramatic pillow covering of the head. What did he think I was doing? Setting my Braedon alarm so I could watch my night time line up? (Which consisted of Leno, Conan, Carson ::GAG::, Texas hold’em, Leno again, Conan again, sweeper infomercial, political stuff, morning news...)
Finally, after I was ready to pull Jordon’s teeth out of his skull to see how HE would like it, he got up and moved to the couch. I tried to remain calm, I reminded myself over and over that Jordon says stuff at night that he doesn’t even remember in the morning... that he had to work the next day... I was telling myself anything I could that would help simmer my boiling blood. It wasn’t working. What did he think I was going to do all day? My arms were already throbbing and burning from holding my poor teething baby all night and day yesterday... would I be able to do it again? Braedon is the size of a small two year old and the only comfort he got was from me holding him.
Now that day two has arrived, I feel tired but not exhausted, sore but not broken. I think women are given super powers the moment they become moms. Sleep? Nice, but not a necessity. Pain? What is pain compared to the love I feel for my little guy?
Braedon is sitting in my lap, his eyes puffy and tired, his head leaning against my chest. Yesterday was the first time he has cuddled like this. It is the perfect position for me to wrap one arm around his back, and with the other free hand play with his soft, golden locks.
I remind myself again to enjoy every moment I am given with my son, for better or for worse. Wasn’t it just last blog that I was complaining about Braedon moving away from me? And now his teething has caused him to need my company more than he has for months. I close my eyes and focus on the warmth coming from his body, seeping through his clothes, through my clothes, heating my own cold body, melting the self-pity I was so recently engaging in. I listen to his breathing, peppered with whimpers of pain mixed with sleepiness, and give him a good squeeze. He looks up at me and I fake sneeze. (Don’t ask why, but he thinks this is just hilarious.) His smile looks almost out of place on his sad little face, which makes me feel for him even more.
There is wonder to behold in every aspect of parenting, good bad or ugly.
As for Jordon, no hard feelings. He is a fantastic father and a great husband... but NOTHING compares to being a mother. I wouldn’t trade places with him for anything.
Besides, whenever he realizes he has been insensitive, it is always followed up with a sucking-up period and maybe even a back rub. Fair enough.
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