Motherhood: Day 67

Ok, first of all I would like to throw it out there that I am sitting on the couch slouched over to reach the computer which is sitting on the coffee table. Between my chest and thighs is what is known as a boppy pillow with a baby on it suckling on my breast. This may sound simple, but its actually an amazing act of balance. I have to slouch extra low (think this guy second to left) so that the baby can reach my breast and I can type with two hands simultaneously. Pretty sure its about as exactly opposite of ergonomic as it gets.

I am cranky as fuck right now. And here's why.

Some babies do not like to be let go of. If let go of, they will enter a state which is referred to as "ape shit." Therefore, it can be challenging to feed yourself with a baby attached to you at all times. It is easy to grab cookies and apples and things like that to eat, but those are hardly meals. I try to keep a healthy options at reach at all times. One of my favorite things is steaming broccoli and keeping it in the fridge for quick bites. I was pretty psyched to put some of that delicious broccoli on some couscous I had just heated up. I sat down to take a bite and realized that my broccoli tasted like a bottle of designer impostor perfume. Thats because the father of my child a week earlier had used the tupperware container containing the broccoli to put gel air freshener in. So... now I had a big steaming mouthful of fresh linen scented vegetables. So yea I'm pretty cranky over that shit. Instead I had to settle for a ham sandwich.

The father of my child has been gone for two weeks because he is in Costa Rica, where he is currently being paid to horseback ride, drink cocktails with names like "coco loco" and "redheaded slut" and perform at a festival. Meanwhile I am eating perfumed broccoli while self inflicting scoliosis.

Dont get me wrong, my baby is the cutest sweetest thing I've ever seen. I am happy to be a mom. But being alone for this long with a brand new baby is no joke. Consecutive hours of sleep are a distant memory. I cant remember the last time I put on mascara. If I'm not juggling feeding her, feeding me, feeding the cat, cleaning the cat's shit, not letting the sink pile up to the sky, washing myself, or doing laundry, I'm couch bound breastfeeding. It is truly a fulltime job and I'm looking forward to baby daddy coming home so I can drink a beer and take a long hot shower. I'm trying to "enjoy every moment" as everyone likes to tell me, but its hard to enjoy witnessing the clock strike 2am 3am 4am 5am every night.

Aside from the stress, its pretty profound loving and being loved by someone so unconditionally and this little creature being totally dependent on you for everything. In reality I'm ultimately enjoying every minute even though I'm tired and on my own while my partner is watching the sunset in Costa fucking Rica with parrots probably perched on his arms.

My Birth Story

On November 29, 2011 a baby came out of me named Freya. She is squishy and cute and her sleep schedule has me feeling like a meth head. Our computer has been out of order so over the course of the last 2 weeks whenever my squishy baby gives me a moment of freedom, I typed sections of my birth story on Jamie's iphone notepad app. I finally finished, and every part of me wants to proofread it but I simply dont have time. It probably has spelling errors, weird grammar, and whatever else, but lets call that "authenticity" for now. :)

Without further ado, here is my unabridged and fresh from memory birth story. Brought to you by my two thumbs and an iPhone.

(ps yes I talk about poop, and cervixes, and blood and guts, and I think theres a few 'fucks' so this is not a story for prudes)

We went in on Monday the 28th for my scheduled induced birth since my doctor had projected Freyas weight was already at 9lbs at only 37 weeks. He feared that waiting until her due date of Dec 3 could lead to a very difficult birth due to her size. When we arrived, the midwife made Jamie put on some slippers and led us into a small room with a few machines, a small bathroom, and a tiny bed. My feet hung off the edge and every time I tried to get comfortable, I’d pull down the plastic sheets and had to readjust them. I remember being totally frustrated and uncomfortable with all the hospitally plasticness. I took off my pants and they checked my cervix which was very high and long. They injected a gel into me to get the process going and told me that I would be lucky if I had the baby the following night. Obviously this got me anxious. Over the next hour Jamie watched a documentary on UFOs on his iphone while I stared at the ceiling studying how my body felt. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain and the urge to poop. I had to poop so bad I was afraid I was going to crap myself right there. Several hours went by of increased pain, hunger, and a fear of crapping myself. The fetal heart monitoring device beeped away as the anticipation increased. Jamie and I were grouchy and anxious and not really talking to each other. Finally, the contractions got so strong I began to cry. A nurse came in at one point and checked on me. I told her that I was in a lot of pain and had to poop. She said I couldnt poop because the gel would come out of me if I stood, and it was just the feeling of the baby pushing against my anus. Finally, I was allowed to poop and eat. Jamie left to go run errands for a short while so I was left alone. The pain was so strong and in no particular pattern. I pooped several times and felt relief because I was really scared about crapping during birth. I still didnt know what exactly what was going to happen. Was I going to be in this tiny room for the next 24 hours? Was this labor? Does the pain actually get worse than this? I sat alone, scared, nervous and wondering all these questions. Jamie returned, as well as the nurse and she checked my cervix again saying that the baby had definitely dropped but that we were nowhere close. Several minutes later my contractions started to become so intense that I could barely stand when they hit. I asked the nurse in my choppy french, “Is this labor?” She shook her head and said “no. this is not. "it hurts much worse." I was totally freaked and couldn't believe this wasn't labor. How on earth could it get worse? If contractions so strong I couldn't walk every 5 minutes wasn't labor then what the hell was? Did France have another definition of labor? Had I read something wrong? Finally the pain was so unbearable that I made Jamie ask for a pregnancy ball since id been staring at a poster on the wall for 10 hours of various labor poses. They must work. The nurse moved me to my "room" with a ball. Apparently I was just in the "pre-labor" room before. Now I was in a double room with a curtain separating me and a nice lady with a newborn. I was moaning and trying to breathe through the contractions for about an hour until I finally threw up. Jamie was a champ, and stood by my side the whole time. Finally the contractions were coming every THIRTY SECONDS to a minute. I said "fuck this Jamie what the fuck. Please call a nurse. I'm getting no time to rest between contractions." A good looking tall 20 something man comes in with a midwife badge and said "I'm here to check your cervix." I was like, "great." I was hardly dilated, regardless his cervix check made my contractions even stronger, and I was making quite the scene, crying etc. so they moved me into a delivery room. I swear I have a high tolerance for pain, this pain was just like none other. It is all encompassing and overwhelming. The best way to describe it is, the most painful possible menstrual cramp meets food poisoning. In a wave of pain that suddenly releases and you're free of pain again. I probably could have learned to bear it only the contractions were just too close, I was out of energy. They checked my cervix again, and it was barely at 3cm. But they said it looked like the baby was on it's way. She told me I was in double the pain since my cervix was shrinking from the gel in addition to contractions. I was so pissed off at everything. This intervention was way too intense, and what the hell did they mean anyway. My cervix is shrinking? What is it like a worm? It grows back or what? They didn't want to give me my epidural yet, so instead they gave me a shot in my butt, don't know what it was but the nurse said it wouldn't stop the contractions but it would slow them down for an hour to give me some relief. They completely stopped my contractions for an hour, and lowered them to about 1 contraction an hour after that, giving me about 4 hours of peace. It gave me shaky hands and little heart palpitations which the nurse said was normal. The nurse said I was not allowed to eat or drink at this point. I was SO THIRSTY. I couldn't believe it. Finally, they decided I could get my epidural if I wanted, but my contractions were so light at that point, I decided to weather the storm a bit longer. Whew, that's when they really started coming. Longer and more intense. When one would come I'd say "ok Jamie!!!!! Here it comes!!!!!!!!" then start breathing nose in mouth out so hard I'd get dizzy. I mean wow, that was pain. About 24 hours had passed at this point of pain. Finally I said ok I'm over it. Epidural. Let me tell you, that epidural is WEIRD. I cried and sweated through my shirt. My IV got all wonky because my blood flow went so crazy from the stress that blood formed where the needle went in. Basically they put a needle STRAIGHT into your spine. Which feels like... a needle going straight into your spine! It is the weirdest strangest ickiest sensation ever. (shudder) and he did it like 3 times, because it was a "self administer" epidural, basically they install a tube into your back and you have a button to press to get a shot of your epidural. It resets every 15 minutes. Once it kicked in, not only was the pain gone but I was high. I don't care if they say that's impossible, I was straight up high. My head felt all loopy, and I had a feeling of euphoria. Jamie snuck me an Oreo at this point and we were caught and scolded. Apparently it's dangerous. A few hours went by and I could feel a tightness every time I had a contraction but no pain, just a little, and if so, I'd just press that button. I was going on several hours of no water, and so thirsty. Jamie would give me cups of water to rinse my mouth with Then id spit out. It was torture. I can honestly say not being able to drink water was one of the hardest parts. Suddenly the nurse came in concerned about the baby's heartbeat. She referred to the fetal heart monitor print out and explained that everytime I had a contraction the baby's heart rate was increasing significantly. She said the baby was getting really tired from all these contractions. Again, they checked my cervix and it was at 5 this time, only baby was still way up there. Suddenly a dispute began between the midwife and my obgyn over whether we should continue, or get a c-section. My heart dropped. The last thing on earth I wanted was to be cut open, fully conscious, especially after all this hard work. Ultimately it was decided it was in the baby's best interest to come out now. I cried, and told the dr. I was scared. He smiled like it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. He explained gently that it would be a very small incision that took 5 minutes, and 30 to stitch up. He said I would feel touch, but no pain. I was so scared. I've never even broken a bone, so this was like a face off with my biggest fear: SURGERY! I can't explain what happened next, I went into survival mode. I just watched everything go by, surrendering. Nothing was really explained, I just watched it happen. They stuck a tube up my crotch to drain my bladder, because apparently you can't pee with an epidural. They rolled me over onto another table and wheeled me down the hall 2 doors. Jamie was still in another room putting on the proper clothing for surgery. There were bright UFO looking lights on the ceiling and about 8 people in the room. I started shaking and my jaw chattering. The anesthisiologist said hello and dosed me with a huge amount more of the epidural. I felt things get more and more numb and started shaking more and more uncontrollably. A nice woman asked me if I was cold and inserted a big tube that blew hot air into my medical gown. It kind of helped. There was a curtain drawn across my chest so I couldn't see down below. I felt movement that seemed to be them cleaning me. The nice woman saw my fear and came really close to my face and whispered, "this will not hurt. You will feel pressure, but no pain. I promise." then she asked me a few questions about where I was from etc. It calmed me a bit. Suddenly I felt a vibration going in a horizontal line across my pelvis. Then Jamie came walking into view wearing his hospital outfit his face pale White. "I'm not even going to tell you what's going on down there." he said. I felt a pressure in my abdomen, it was like someone was pulling my belly button up towards my face and stretching my vagina with it. (gross I said stretching my vagina) I felt everything that went on down there but with no pain. I felt clips and snips and aggressive pulling. Jamie tried to talk me through it but I just asked him to be quiet. Then I got totally preoccupied with him moving my hospital cap in just the right position. I got really frustrated about it. Obviously textbook misdirected anger. ;) I just went still and waited for the storm to be over. I heard several "jaba jaba jaba" rapid French chatters on the other side of the curtain, a strong "snip!!!" sensation and felt a gush of liquid explode. Then a lot of commotion and moving. Then Jamie said "that's Freya! There's Freya!" And I heard her cry. It was a powerful cry. I remember feeling totally impressed by her powerful entrance, like wow, that's the thing inside me?? Jamie peeked his head around the curtain and said "there she is!!!" I still couldn't see anything, I could only hear her. Suddenly I saw the nurse come into view holding baby Freya. She was dark purple and has this squished up little face. My initial reaction was "wow, who's that? Is that really her?" I was swimming with so many emotions. The nurse placed her next to my face laying down, so close to me I couldn't see her because I was crosseyed. We studied each other for a bit, then I kissed her on the mouth. She smelled like me. I felt total joy and disbelief that she was actually there. The nurse took her away and Jamie followed. I spent the next 30 minutes shaking, and trying to unlock my clenched jaw. I couldn't find anything interesting to look at on the ceiling while I waited. I felt tools being placed on my chest as they worked down below sewing me up. Time couldn't have gone by slower. I wanted Freya and I wanted Jamie. Finally they finished and the curtain was opened. There was a young man there that I didn't recognise. My doctor smiled and asked if I was ok. When he turned around I saw a huge sweat patch on his back. I thought about how much pressure must have been on him during the procedure. And whether there had been complications. I asked to see my placenta. The nurse brought over a bucket with my placenta in it. It was a lot smaller than I had imagined. A lump of blood and guts. She made a joking "yuck" sound effect. I was kind of disappointed at how it was being treated like scrap, after all the reading I had done about certain cultures honoring the placenta, some even having burials for them. They rolled my limp body onto another bed (what a weird feeling I was a total slug) and rolled me into another small room with a desk and one curtain. I went behind the curtain and waited for any sign of Jamie or Freya. Finally Jamie came in smiling from ear to ear and told me what a good job I'd done. Freya was rolled in in a plastic incubator thingy box. There was a little door I could open to touch her. I opened it and touched and touched and stroked. Jamie said to be careful not to leave it open too long because she'd get cold. She kept sucking on her fingers and showing all the signs of a hungry baby I'd seen in books. I asked if i coukd please feed her. I was told I was shaking too much and needed to wait. I remember this really frustrating me. I wanted to hold her on my chest and have skin to skin contact. I wanted to touch her and instead there was plexiglass and my convulsing post surgery state holding us apart. People kept coming in and telling me things, and plugging me into things, and taking my blood pressure, and connecting this IV and changing my diaper etc. A woman came in and started rambling about some panty hose I needed to wear for circulation. I didn't even listen, I was focusing on my breathing so I could slow down my shakes to hold Freya. Finally they let me hold her. I guided her little head towards my breast and she latched on tight immediately. It was MAGICAL. I just stared at her in awe. She was so beautiful. They rolled me up to my room, which is a funny feeling, I've never been on a stretcher before, so it's surreal having people roll you around and you see nothing but the ceiling and their faces just like in the movies. Freya was able to room with me which was great. I didn't want anyone taking her away anymore. Jamie and I spent the rest of the day Just looking at her in amazement. She was so tiny! Only 8 lbs in the end. Finally I was allowed to drink water. I gulped it down let me tell you. Jamie had to leave because visiting hours were over, so I had to take care of Freya. I couldn't sit up or anything because of the surgery, so every time i needed something I had to call the nurses. Since Jamie was gone I had to communicate in French. It was a lot of single words and present tense verbs. "me have blood. Need medicine." I was so exhausted at this point that I agreed to the nurses taking her away from 11pm to 5am coming in every 3 hours to breastfeed. They tried to talk me into starting her on formula until my milk came in but I knew better than that after reading my Ina May book! :) (thanks Christina) my sleep was wonky and bizarre because of the epidural, and I think they may have given me morphine. I don't know. I was super itchy, and a nurse had to come in frequently to change my bloody sheets and pads and tube leading to a bag of pee. The next week i spent in the hospital was really challenging. The nurses were lovely, but it was a whirlwind of information, and tests, and questions, and pain, and confusion. I was completely bound to my bed and Jamie could only be there so much. I hated being so helpless after the operation. I didn't poop for 4 days. I didn't see Freyas naked body until she was about 4 days old either because I couldnt get up to bathe her or change her. One night the pain was so bad I started crying, and all I could tell the nurse was "I have pain. Feels like period pains." so she gave me a pill to stick up my butt. My nights were sleepless and Freyas screams blended with the other mothers baby behind the curtain next to me. We never spoke, but we'd smile sympathetically every time we'd see each other. Freya constantly needed to be held and wanted to nurse nurse nurse. My nipples became chafed and bloody so I had to start wearing silicone nipple guards. Slowly my strength returned. I could shower alone. I even got a physical therapist who would walk with me every day for 5 minutes. This hospital was amazing. French healthcare is pretty incredible. The food was even good! Foie gras, flan, steak, fresh salads and fruit. It was great. Regardless, I was so happy when the day came to go home. My time in the hospital was scary, but so great. I was able to have nurses on hand about my mommy troubleshooting and support for healing. Overall, my experience was positive, but there was a lot of intervention which left me feeling inadequate, like I wasnt able to do it myself. In an ideal world I would have liked to give birth at home, in a pool, short labor, and no one would have taken her away from me to clean or test or prod and I would have been healthy enough to do everything myself. I'll never know if I would have had a perfectly normal healthy birth without all the trouble of being induced. Regardless, looking back on my experience everyone was just trying to do their job, and they did it well. I have a healthy baby girl who I cant stop staring at and daydreaming about our future together. I am almost completely healed. And that's my birth story.

I'm Trying to Learn Your Hard Ass Language: A Rant By E. Guaca

In France, whenever someone asks me "Do you speak French?" I answer (in French) "I understand, but its difficult for me to speak it."

For some reason, this is rarely an adequate answer.

I've been here for one year, however European law requires me to leave every 3 months. I must stay out of France for 3 months to be able to re-enter for another 3 months. So, in reality I've only been here for about 7 months.
I am 28 years old. I have an average developed brain, although I am exceptional at remembering what people were wearing the first time I met them. Based on this criteria, mastering all of the phoenetics and conjugations of an entire language in 7 months time is not within my capacity. Sorry France. It just isn't.

Today, in the town hall office, I said my usual answer "Je comprends le francais." Her reply (also in French)was, "Well you should learn it. Because when I'm in your home I speak English, so you should speak French in mine." While this may be correct, it is also pretty fucking completely ice cold and presumptuous.
I told my fiance, who has lived in France for eleven years and has apparently forgotten what the insecurities of learning a language feels like, that I found this to be offensive. He laughed and said that I need to essentially
"get over it, and that it wasn't rude at all."

*record scratch*

Did I miss something? Let's back up here. I replied to the woman's question in French, not English, with an honest answer. She has no idea about my circumstances, or how hard it actually is to learn French with an English brain. I speak fluent Spanish, and I mean legit spanish, not any of this "yo quiero cerveza" bullshit. It took years of practice, and hard work to master, and I'd say I deserve a little fucking pat on the back for now attempting to take on a THIRD language. So yes, I'm offended.

I just can't fathom saying to a Korean person, or a German person, or a Turkish person who is trying to assimilate to an entirely new culture and language that they need to "LEARN FASTER." It's an extremely sensitive and unique learning process for each individual.

But my fiance's casual response to me taking offense got me thinking. Is it just an "American" thing that I would be offended by this? Is it just oversensitive "politically correct" justice that has been drilled into my brain? We actually got into a full blown argument about it, because he just could not fathom why or how I could possibly be offended.

It is my belief that people need to practice tolerance, and not pass judgments onto others about experiences that they know nothing about.
Until you have experienced living in an entire new culture and tried learning an entirely new language I think you should just shut the fuck up.

Oh, sorry. Thats, "Casse-toi et ta gueule putain!"

Week 32 of pregnancy

I want sushi, I want a drink, I want to smoke
and I want to sleep on my stomach.
I want to not see a foggy ass print when I sit up from leather seats.
I want to wear clothes that don't have "belly panels" or ruffles.
I want to wear bra's that are in the beginning of the alphabet.
I want to have sex in various positions.

I want to run up hills without wheezing.
I want to go on rollercoasters and wear belts.
I want to have the choice of whether I want to fart or not.

I want to see my vagina when I shave it.
I want a Red Bull. Maybe even two.

Don't get me wrong, I am totally excited for my baby, she was worth giving up all these things for a while... I'm just ready for a margarita guys. A really big fucking margarita.

My baby is the size of a....

In every other part of the world people don't seem to have a problem measuring things in units of measurement. Americans seem to prefer to understand the size of something in relation to a fruit.

Dear Husband, Love, Pregnant Wife

I just wrote this to my soon to be husband, and pressed send with vigor. I didn't realize how awesome it was until I re-read it.

I think we should put it in a powder pink frame above the baby's crib as a memory of our pregnancy.

GOD DAMNIT!!
If I hear "you're in a bad mood" "why'd you say it like that?" "is this one of your pregnant things?" "your hormones are crazy!" or something of the sort again, I'm literally going to tear your head off of your body like a praying mantis and swallow it whole.

You bitch about my "moods" that are actually non-existent until you ACCUSE me of being in one, then I get really really really pissed off!!!!

Our conversations go south every time you ACCUSE me of being in a god damn mood. Stop saying comments about "dealing with my hormones" like I'm insane or something!!!

fuck that shit. if you don't want to "deal with my hormones" then don't "deal with my hormones" and I'll see you in 2 months when she's popped out, and you can just eat your bolognese pizza in peace in the meantime.

OR shove it up your ass. Same difference.

Catherine The Offensive Translator