A Baby Story

In the vast list of things that I wanted to accomplish while on maternity leave, blogging was definitely one of the top. I like doing it but never make the time and thought while I'm "off" for this time, I would be posting new blogs all the time. Needless to say, that hasn't happened even once, so I'm going to backtrack a little bit here.

It's been 7 weeks now since Chloe was born, so I'm going to now tell the story of that day. This is as much for me to remember (one of my original intentions behind blogging) as it is for anyone else who might be interested.

On Friday, June 29th, 3 days after my due date, I woke up at 4:30 in the morning with a contraction. These lasted for about 2 hours but were inconsistent, so I decided to go to work in case it wasn't the real thing. (Fast forward many hours, and I would find out it was very real.) I had Kevin and my mom on notice and went to work. My officemate thought that I was crazy when I told her that I thought I was in labor but said to keep it quiet. I didn't want anyone to know in case it wasn't real or in case my boss caught wind of it and tried to send me home. (I didn't want to waste one single day of my leave.) I worked throughout the day having the occasional contraction and causing my officemate panic at my every sound. I got myself caught up on everything I could (just in case) and left about 2:30. I called Kevin on the way home and told him I still wasn't sure but that just in case this baby was coming, I thought I should go get my eyebrows done. (Yes, I may be slightly crazy, but a new mom with 2 young kids doesn't always have time for that type of thing, so I thought I should take my chance to get it done.) The contractions started to get worse by this point, and I almost had to leave with only one eyebrow done.

When you already have a kid at home and you're pregnant, you do your best to plan for that child, but there is no way to really prepare. Sure, we had someone on standby to watch Cole, a bag packed and his Big Brother shirts cleaned. But I never thought about how he would react to Mommy being in labor. At first, it was pretty funny. He copied me as I breathed through contractions and laughed at my odd behavior. Then the contractions got worse, and as my little boy could tell I was in pain, he got really upset. It honestly broke my heart to worry him like that, so I just tried to assure him that I was okay.

With my contractions still irregular, I debated calling the doctor. And something else delayed me, too. Kevin had an important school board vote at 6pm, and I didn't want him to miss it. (Yeah, yeah, I know I'm still sounding crazy.) As the pain was getting more intense, I told Kevin to go to his meeting and that I would call the doctor while he was gone. With my contractions still all over the place, the doctor told me that I could come in or not and that the choice was mine. I told her that I would come in when Kevin got home which would make it another hour or so until I could get there.

The ride to the hospital was not fun as I was in a lot of pain by that point. We got there around 7pm and went up to Labor and Delivery where I was checked. If my irregular contractions cast any doubt on the reality of my labor, when they found me at 6-7 centimeters dilated, all doubt was gone.

The next hour or so was not my best. You know when you watch those movies where the woman yells and pleads for drugs and you think that no real woman ever acts like that? Well, I did. No exaggeration. It was bad. I cried and screamed and begged my mommy to help me. (Meanwhile, my mother didn't really think I was in labor and had shown up dressed to go out to dinner with my dad. Jeez.) Kevin and my mom found my antics quite amusing and found it hard not to laugh in my face. (Nice, guys.) Waiting for the anesthesiologist to arrive, I was checked again and after being at the hospital for only an hour, I was at 9 1/2 centimeters. I couldn't believe how quickly I had progressed and of course I was worried that it was too late for an epidural. This is something else you see in the movies. The reality is that even that far along, I was still able to get the epidural. The doctor tried to tell me that we should just move forward without it, but there was no way. I pushed for 2 hours with Cole and if I had to repeat that, I insisted on doing it with an epidural. I would have liked to be tough about it, but I'm not tough. I don't like pain. I told them to get me the drugs asap. Even if that meant the baby would come a little later. Everything was smooth sailing (besides a very brief drop in the baby's heart rate) after I finally got the epidural and after less than 3 hours at the hospital and a few pushes, our daughter arrived!

Chloe Audrey Tinsley
June 29, 2012
10:06pm
8 lbs, 8 oz
20 inches
Perfectly healthy!

Yup, still pregnant.

It’s been a few years since I was last pregnant, but I feel like I remember most things. The kicking and feeling the baby move. The sensitivity to smell and wanting to eat everything in sight. What I did forget is how being pregnant somehow opens you up to everyone’s opinions, questions, and comments. And I don’t just mean your family and friends who get on you about how much weight you’re gaining or what you’re eating. Or ask what you plan to do about daycare or what you are going to name the baby. For some reason, when people see a pregnant woman, even if she is a complete stranger, they lose any filter that they may have. Here are just a few examples of things that have been said to me.

1-      A male student at my school: “I guess you’re almost ready to take a nice, long vacation, huh?” (As he points to his own stomach). Yes, buddy. Labor, delivery and a newborn are definitely equivalent to sitting on the beach with a cocktail in hand. You got me there.

2-      Several people who are apparently parenting experts: “How are you going to have 2 kids in one room?” This is usually said with a frown or skeptical look on the doubter’s face. Sure, having 2 young kids in the same room isn’t completely ideal, but that is our situation for now, and unless one of these naysayers would like to buy us a house, then I’d prefer these opinions to be kept quiet. A special thanks to a friend who is in a similar situation and made me realize that it can work and even work really well and bring the kids closer!

3-      Someone new everyday- “You got bigger!” Ask any pregnant woman if she wants to be told on a daily basis how big she is. I can pretty much guarantee the answer will be no 100% of the time. Enough said.

4-      A drunk girl at a wedding over the weekend when I told her how far along I am: “Shut the f*** up!” I just didn’t know what to say to that one.

5-      People who ask what we’re naming the baby and are told that we are keeping the name a secret: “What’s the point of that?” When we decided to find out the gender of this baby, I wanted something to still be a secret, so we chose not to share the name. I don’t understand the big deal, but some people actually seem offended. They just have to deal with it. Everyone will know soon enough.

6-      Again, someone new everyday: “You didn’t have that baby yet?” Yes, actually, I did. She is here sitting under my desk. I’m just that good.

Homestretch

As I near the homestretch of my pregnancy (5 weeks left- give or take), I wanted to document a few things, so that I won’t forget when my daughter is older and asks me about this time.

What I’m feeling (physically) - I love feeling my baby girl move and kick all the time. Sometimes it hurts a little bit, but it’s mostly good. I think it’s funny when I can look down at my stomach and actually see my her moving around. I’m definitely tired, but I feel like it could be worse. Even though some things like bending over are harder than normal to do, I feel pretty lucky to not have any major complaints with such little time left.

What I’m feeling (emotionally) - Scared, nervous, excited, unprepared, surreal. I think that about sums it up. The main thing that I constantly think about is that I can’t believe that I’m going to be a mother of 2 in a matter of weeks. I still look at Cole all the time and say “wow, he’s ours” so having a little girl around all the time is a crazy concept to me. I also feel like we haven’t done anything to prepare for this new arrival in our lives and that she is going to show up, and we won’t know what to do with ourselves. Rationally, I know that’s not really the case and that we will get everything done, but the next few weeks seem daunting with thoughts of washing baby clothes, setting up the bassinet and swing, packing our bags, getting car seat bases in place, etc. I’d like to take a week off to get ready… but I’d probably use the time to nap.

Other stuff-

We finally decided on a name for our little girl, but we are keeping it a secret.

Even if he won’t admit it, I think Kevin likes buying baby girl clothes as much as I do (if not more).

Cole is so good about hugging, kissing and talking to his sister… which warms my heart more than words can say.

I’m really trying to soak up all the one-on-one time with Cole that I can right now. One of my biggest concerns is splitting attention and “mommy time” so I’m enjoying not having to worry about that for now.

Most importantly, all 3 of us are excited about our growing family and meeting our newest member!

Sincerest Form of Flattery

If imitation truly is the sincerest form of flattery, then Kevin and I should be feeling beyond flattered these days. Cole has been copying things that we do for awhile now, but it is getting to be even more of a regular occurrence.

One of the first blogs that I ever wrote was about how Kevin and Cole have a morning routine that they go through together- hair, teeth, deodorant, all that. They still do that, and heaven forbid Kevin brushes his teeth without Cole… well, let’s just say my son is not a happy camper. It’s actually come in handy with things like getting Cole to take his vitamin every morning because Daddy is taking his.

But now Cole has taken things to another level. Sometimes when I talk, he repeats everything that I say. Well, not necessarily the entire sentence, but the last word of every sentence. Yeah, that gets annoying pretty fast. And he definitely knows what he is doing, because he laughs and makes faces at me when he does it… like he knows he is up to something bad.

One day as we were leaving for daycare, I said to Cole, “let’s rock and roll.” It isn’t even something that I say very often, but now we are stuck with it. He says it to me all the time. Now he even opens the fridge and sees the bag of rolls and asks to have a “rock and roll.” I’ve tried to explain the difference, but he either doesn’t get it or chooses not to. Another favorite thing to repeat is “knock it off.” When he is acting up, I tell Cole to knock it off, and he says it right back. Hard to maintain any ounce of respect when that happens.

Last weekend, we had the moment that I had been waiting for. As a parent, you do your best to avoid it, but you know that inevitably you will slip up, and it will happen. The three of us were going food shopping, and Kevin was rearranging things in his trunk to make room for the bags. I don’t remember if he hurt his hand or what happened, but he said, “oh, fudge.” Only he didn’t use the word fudge. (Use your imagination.) I looked back at him quickly, as I was getting Cole into his car seat, and just said “language.”  Well, my 2 year old looked right at me and said, “oh, fudge.” (Again, a euphemism here.) I tried my best to do the right thing and correct him, but I started laughing so hard that I had to walk away so he couldn’t see my face. I mean, what do you do in this situation? I composed myself as much as I could, walked back over to him and explained that we don’t use that word. Now let’s just hope that doesn’t happen in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because not everyone would be so flattered by my son’s imitations.

Things We Do

I was thinking today about the things that we do for our kids. Not the run them to soccer practice or cut the crust off the bread types of things. Not the stay up until 2am working on a science fair project or watch the same episode of their favorite cartoon for the 100^th time type of things. But those not-so-often-thought-of, but just as important things. I really experienced that this weekend.

I’m finding more and more that just being able to bring a child into this world is truly a miracle. It’s not what I thought it was when I was younger- you get married, decide to have a baby and 9 months later, out comes your little bundle of joy, no consequences to speak of. It seems that infertility is so common these days (I have a good friend going through it right now), and I can’t say enough about the courage and strength of the women who endure this. Then there are the numerous complications that can occur. I know someone else who is playing the waiting game to find out if there is something wrong with her baby’s heart.... and it breaks mine.

What I went through this weekend wasn’t nearly as bad as what other people endure, but it was still a reminder. I wasn’t feeling well most of the day on Friday, but when I ended up with a fever and chills that night, I decided to call the doctor. Never too cautious when you’re pregnant, they told me to come in. After getting checked out, it was determined that I had a kidney infection. (And later said to possibly be a kidney stone, too.) Not a huge deal, right? Unless you’re pregnant. Well, I was told that I was being admitted for an unknown amount of time. That became 3 days. (I was in the same amount of time as when my son was born.) During this time, I was poked and prodded, tested and re-tested. I had to get IV antibiotics for the injection and IV fluids to keep me hydrated. They monitored me. They monitored the baby. My heart rate was high, so they did an EKG. What wasn’t high? My potassium, my iron, my platelets. All low. Along with my amount of sleep. I was happy if I got 2 hours straight during my entire stay.

The good news is that the baby is okay. She is better than me. But because I am pregnant, I get to be on antibiotics for the next 3 ½ months, with the first 10 days taking it 4 times a day. I’m still wondering when I’m going to catch up on sleep. (I guess I have about 2 months before the answer will be never.) But all of the tests and medicine and lack of sleep in the world are worth it… as long as my baby girl is okay.

The Runaway Balloon

Yesterday when I picked up Cole from daycare, he was playing with a green balloon. I was told one of the other kids brought them for everyone and that he was allowed to take it home. Well, Cole loves balloons as most kids his age do, so he was very excited. It didn’t have a string, so he carried it outside. (I tried to take it from him, but Mr. Independent wanted to do it himself.)  Well, inevitably, he dropped it. This wouldn’t have been such a problem if it weren’t for the wind… which was strong. Before I knew it, this little green balloon was flying down the sidewalk. Then it stopped. Then it started going again. I tried to catch it and just as I would reach for it, it would start moving again. Before I knew it, it was down the sidewalk. I started to chase it and then remembered why I was doing this and turned around to look at Cole. Do I really have to go after this green piece of latex or will he let me off the hook?

“Balloon!”

That answered my question. I ran in the balloon’s direction. Cole started to run after me. I told him to wait by my car out front of daycare. I kept running. Almost 7 months pregnant, in heels, I ran down the sidewalk and across the street. I ran up someone’s driveway and across their yard. I dredged through newly laid mulch onto another neighbor’s patio. There I faced the enemy. (Yes, the balloon.) I stalked around it and finally pounced. Caught! I stared down at it and then back at my son waiting for me on the sidewalk. Winded, I walked back, thinking how crazy I must be to have done all that. But when I looked at my son’s happy face, I knew it was all worth it. The things we do for our kids…

The Art of the Tantrum

Cole is learning new things every day. He is able to repeat every word we say. (This will come back to haunt us, I’m sure.) He can climb the stairs by stepping up each one instead of crawling, and he counts them as he goes. He can go into the fridge and show me want he wants to eat or drink. If I read him a book, he will “read” it himself after, and actually remembers some of the things I said. I love each of these new things. But what he has gotten especially good at is throwing temper tantrums. Needless to say, I’m not a fan.

I never know what is going to incite one of these tantrums. Sometimes I don’t fill up his cup with milk fast enough. (I guess I should be happy that he loves milk.) Sometimes I take his jacket off when we get to daycare. (I know, how dare I.) This morning it was because he had to take off his Buzz pajamas and put on real clothes. (Not an attachment to Buzz so much as an attachment to being difficult.) And other times it seems like it is for no reason at all.

It also seems that the older he gets, the more dramatic these tantrums become. It used to just be a whiny thing and a pouty lip. Then he learned the art of throwing yourself on the floor. (I remembered when my niece started to do this and how I hoped that I would never have a child who did the same.) I guess this is a common thing. And now that he is getting older, Cole’s tantrums have taken new heights. He doesn’t only stick out his lip, but the bottom teeth actually come out. He cries, yells, falls on the floor and gives me the most pathetic look imaginable. Today it even graduated to telling me no and pushing me out of his room.

As a parent, I feel like I should know how to handle these tantrums. I usually either get the urge to cuddle him to try and make everything better (if I’m in nice mom mode) or yell at him to get up and knock it off (if I am low on patience). But I guess the right thing to do is probably to ignore him. Of course, sometimes that is easier said than done.

Mad that I was leaving him with a sitter