Through The Looking Glass

Neil Gaiman: Gremlin Rules

Coraline the movie, with music by THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS.

So…is it unreasonable of me to think that if wetting his (freshly changed, natch) diaper makes Sammy stop crying, I should leave him in damp cotton rather than risk another hour of wailing?

Further, just because I am cold doesn’t mean he is, and if he seems happy and comfortable I should leave him be…right?

Good.

It is allergy season and Will is miserable. I have somehow escaped allergies since arriving on the left coast, but young Sam is showing signs of taking after Daddy.

Will looked at me yesterday (one of those looks that makes you blush all over) and said, “You have really taken to this.”

The baby has just fallen asleep listening to Clutch.

New information! Actually, information I’ve had for a while, but it didn’t occur to me to post a follow-up until Cassie asked me yesterday about recurrence and homebirth for future babies.

Dr. Kline sent my placenta to pathology, where it was discovered that I had something called placenta accreta, a condition where the placenta grows into the uterine wall instead of remaining attached only superficially. It was (I think) a fairly mild case, but enough to cause the problems we had.

This means two things.

1. The inversion could have happened even had my labor been much shorter. We’d initially thought it happened because my uterus was tired.
2. If we’d had Sam at home, the inversion might NOT have happened, because Diane would have taken me to the hospital when the placenta refused to appear (whereas Dr. Kline coaxed it out, bringing my uterus with it).

In future deliveries, armed (ha!) with this knowledge, a doctor will have to detach the placenta after I give birth (assuming recurrence, which is likely). If the accreta is severe, I would have to have surgery to remove the placenta – essentially a cesarean. I don’t think this is very likely.

And now you know as much as I do.

Tonight Sam will be seven days old. I can hardly believe it – though something tells me that in twenty years I will hardly believe that he is old enough to live entirely without me. (Excuse me while I throw up from that thought.)

Cuteness: off the charts. On a related note, even the pediatrician thinks Sam is perfect.

Breastfeeding: we are at the very bottom of the learning curve! In fact, the learning curve is up there and we are feebly jumping at it while crying quietly. (Yes, we have help. We are just slow.)

Sleep: I finally get to see that Will can be just as crabby as I am when overtired. I did not want to know that! He is supposed to be able to do anything and remain cheerful. (OK, he is only grumpy at four in the morning, so that’s something. But I feel so badly for him.)

Soreness: actually increasing. I’m going to see my One True Love, Dr. Doug the Chiropractor, this afternoon. I have never looked forward to anything more.

Happiness: I am in a constant state of euphoria. So in love with my family.

Deadwood: Season 2 arrived and we are enjoying it tremendously. Thanks to everyone who said it was perfectly all right to use baby gift money for it. It is certainly helping us cope with the new hours of operation.

It’s been a busy week. First there was that whole thing where my insides tried to escape (doubtless intending to head for Mexico on a life of crime). Then I got my fifteen minutes of fame – alas, in the L&D ward, where my swift physical recovery and uncanny ability to feed myself and the baby simultaneously were the talk of the nurse’s station. Then we accepted the tremendous responsibility of naming someone. On Tuesday Sam’s umbilical cord fell off, well ahead of schedule. I think he was embarrassed by it, because a dried out stub of a cord is really an ugly thing. (I totally kept it.) There have been doctor visits – a blood draw for me to monitor the anemia (my blood count had been low enough over the weekend that I was offered a transfusion, but turned it down), a check-up for Sam with the pediatrician, and this afternoon we are going to see Doug. We have seen Diane several times, and with her help are hopefully going to get this boob thing down. Many generous people have come by (or scheduled a time to come by) to meet the baby and bring us food.

Now I just have to catch up on my email. (Ha ha ha.)

• They are tiny, yet heavy
• They are hungry all the time
• They make monkey shrieks when they want to eat and pig grunts when they are full
• They just keep getting cuter
• Anyone who says (breastfed) newborns only bond with Mom has clearly never been to my house
• They are very gassy
• They love to be swaddled, but
• Only if one arm is free
• Bouncing and shushing is exhausting but it really works

And one fact about full-sized humans:

• We don’t actually need sleep, after all

I’ve been sitting around all week, feeling tense and defensive and just waiting for someone to say something about how stupid that home birth idea was and isn’t it good that I came to my senses and went to the hospital where birthing mothers belong? Only, no one has said anything. No one has even said anything that allows me to infer it, and I can infer all manner of things that aren’t there.

Is it possible that I am not being judged? I am too cynical to believe that entirely, but the evidence is certainly compelling.

In an effort to make myself feel less defensive, I am going to address this issue that isn’t an issue.

I still believe 100% in home birth. If it is at all possible (the recurrance rate of uterine inversion and placenta accreta says probably not) I will attempt one again. Home is the best place for having your baby if there are no complications (or only minor ones). Home was the right place for us to plan to have our baby.

While I am entirely supportive of anyone who makes the (informed) choice to have an unassisted birth (not just Pat and Stephanie but also my parents), for me it was crucial to be assisted by someone experienced in labor and birth who could recognize when things were not going well anymore. Diane was the perfect person for us. I don’t believe she would have asked us to consider the hospital if she didn’t feel it was necessary, and even though she was decided on the transfer she still left the decision to us.

Having a baby is a relatively safe thing to do. It is true that when things go wrong they often really go wrong, but that is what the hospital is for. Yes, birth complications are often more dire than other sorts, but a well-trained – and more importantly, experienced – attendant will know when it is time to go. As Diane did with me, though she obviously had no idea the severity of the situation. Still, her instincts and experience told her to get me to the hospital, and because of that when things went south I came out fine.

So: home birth was still the best thing for us, even if it isn’t what we wound up doing. Having Sam at Cedars was exactly what needed to happen, and it did, and so everything is lovely.

Contains language and girl parts. (Also: is frightening. Seriously.)

I began to have contractions around midnight on Wednesday/Thursday. I managed to sleep until about 3:30, and didn’t wake Will for another hour. (I had intended to let him sleep, knowing he’d need lots of energy to take care of me, but apparently my repeated trips to the bathroom woke him.)

Then I had contractions for a long time.

After about 36 hours in labor, my stubborn cervix was showing no intention toward the dilation necessary to birth a baby. It was progressing, but incredibly slowly (like, from 3 centimeters to somewhere between 5 and 7 in 30-some hours), and there was fear of exhaustion and dehydration. Who am I kidding? I was dehydrated and exhausted. I still could have (probably) had a home birth, but Diane was extremely concerned that I would not have the strength for it. She asked us to go to the hospital. I of course did not want to, but Will asked me to do it, so I agreed.

When we got to Cedars mid-morning on Friday I was given an epidural. You need to know two things: 1. I am horrified at the routine use of this crap for childbirth; it disgusts me that women are encouraged to not feel their children being born. And 2. it saved my life. Seriously. But we’ll get to that.

Once the epidural was in I slept. (Right through transition!) The medication was turned off with plenty of time to go till delivery, and though a section of my right thigh and the skin around my belly button remained numb, I was drug-free for the delivery. This was very important to me.

Then Sam was born after about an hour and a half of pushing. Man, was that exhausting. Like I wasn’t already tired enough! But it went pretty well and the baby was absolutely fine. (I should mention that his heartrate remained steady and healthy throughout the entire labor and delivery. He is a strong little man.) Will did all of the catching and the baby was put right on my chest and we got a look at each other. Against my initial wishes, he had to be evaluated right away because there was meconium in his amniotic fluid, but he hadn’t swallowed or breathed any of it.

Then things got hairy. The placenta wasn’t coming and when I tried to push it out for the doctor, my uterus tried to slide out with it. (It’s called a uterine inversion if anyone wants to know more.)

At this time I got to hear (on my first ever admittance to a hospital!) a doctor call for something, STAT. He said, “I need an anesthesiologist, stat,” and he said it twice. Apparently I pretty much passed out at this point, because that is all I remember until I woke up and asked where the baby was (with Will, who grabbed him and got out of the way as soon as I crashed). It is my understanding that the doctor basically pushed my uterus back where it was supposed to be. With his arm. I had been drugged – epidural and nitrous mouth spray – to keep me from going into shock (because, hello, ARM).

I was told afterward that I could (probably would) have died if we’d been anywhere else with different staff (Cedars has an in-house team). The anesthesiologist, who we loved, was unfortunately named Calvin. Unfortunate because I am not naming my son after a pair of jeans. Otherwise his name would also be Calvin. Will says he (the anesthesiologist, not the baby) slapped me when I failed to stay conscious.

Huh. I guess this is the short(ish) version, not the long version, but it didn’t seem fair to keep quiet any longer when so many people are concerned and curious.

So, I am now at home, with a baby and some rather severe anemia. Will is off work for two weeks, thank god, so we are doing fine – but if anyone wants to bring some food by or help us out around the house we are not going to turn them away. We are exhausted. But Oh so happy.