A look inside of our crazy lives as father/mother, husband/wife, and (perhaps our most interesting role of all)...juggling three kids while trying to keep our head above water!
There are so many "firsts" and "lasts" that come with being a parent. I found that I have celebrated the firsts without acknowledging most of the lasts. However, I am drawn back to this blog (which has been neglected for months) to celebrate/acknowledge/mourn the end of a very special period of my life. Last Friday, February 13th, 2015, I nursed Hayes, my last baby, for the last time.
The end to our nursing relationship was unplanned and rather abrupt. Hudson became ill and Ryan fled to his parents with Hadley and Hayes in tow in an attempt to keep them germ free. What was meant to be a 24 hour period (after which I would have easily nursed Hayes again) turned into a three day separation. The morning that they were to return home I cried (and cried and cried) while washing dishes because I knew that now was the right time to wean, despite the emotional turbulence it was causing me.
At 27 months old, I knew Hayes no longer needed the nutrition...in fact, I don't think there was even any milk left for him to drink. But nursing was our calm. It was our solution to scraped knees. It was our comfort against big feelings in his little body. It was our warmth when the cold overwhelmed. It was our bond. And it had been for his lifetime.
A small part of me was sad for Hayes. I knew that he would want to nurse and I would have to tell him no. I wasn't really sure how he would handle it, but I was okay with him being a little upset and angry with me. So fear of his response wasn't what was causing my reaction.
The most difficult part was the thought of a very important chapter in my life closing forever. It took me six days to find the strength to even right this post and I'm still sitting here typing through tears. I was "one of those women" who LOVED everything about being pregnant and breastfeeding. Watching my belly, my family, and my life grow before my eyes gave me a feeling of pride, strength, and true happiness. Feeling those baby kicks was magical. Friends and oogling strangers were welcomed to touch my belly, ask when I was due, and congratulate me. I loved the attention to the miracle that was taking place and proud of my part in it. When the baby came and I loved getting to meet him/her. That first rooting of the mouth looking for the breast combined with the knowledge of what the baby needs and that I can provide it is empowering beyond words. The first few weeks came with their hurdles as my body and baby's worked together to figure out how to get this right. But after that, we were smooth sailing. All of those times when I wasn't quite sure what the baby needed, I would offer my breast and he or she would take it, gratefully. All of those images of a milk-drunk newborn sleeping on my chest. All of the signs (in sign language) for "milk". All of that warmth, those connections, those bonds, and the foundation of my relationship with each of my children. And all of those times have come to an end. I am proud of myself (and my children) for nursing for approximately 67 months. Five and a half of my 35 years have been dedicated to nourishing my children with milk and with love. We have done a great thing together, me and my children. And I am grateful for each and every one of those minutes. I offer a saddened farewell to my childrearing years and know that the next time I feel this connected with a baby won't happen until I welcome grandchildren.
If the shortened pant legs and the expanding vocabularies weren't enough of a sign, then certainly this last drop of milk is. My babies are growing up.
We all have expectations about the way certain things will play out, especially significant life events. My expectations for last weekend were that Ryan's parents would get into town on Friday. Ryan and I would go to his work holiday party on Friday night. All day Saturday and Sunday, we would work on getting the house ready for baby. Things on that list included installing a car seat, packing a hospital bag, coming up with a plan in case baby arrives in the middle of the night (i.e. finding a babysitter for Hudson), and coming up with a girl's name we liked just in case. Well, as you already know, nothing went as planned! Here are a few things I wasn't expecting:
-To be angry with my husband as I'm going into labor -To be driving myself to the hospital -To not feel excitement from Ryan about the baby's imminent arrival -To not have a car seat installed -To not have a hospital bag packed -To not have a name picked -To not have a babysitter planned for Hudson -To not have a last minute to cherish alone time with Hudson -To not have Hudson visit me in the hospital -To not go into labor without pitocin -To not have Ryan present for my epidural -To not have any tearing after giving birth -To have a tiny baby -To have a little girl And most importantly....
-To none of this mattering.
I got so caught up in all of these details, that I lost sight of the larger picture that the things that matter were all accounted for: -That my husband was present for the baby's birth -That our families are willing to drop everything for us when we needed them -That I was healthy -That our baby was healthy -That we have one more child to share our hearts with And THAT is what's really important.
I've been itching to write this post for days now so that I can be sure to remember all of the details, but the chaos of the holidays and a new baby hasn't left me with much time to do much of anything. So, here it goes...this is everything that I can remember. (Warning: for those of you who know me, I like to tell stories with every detail possible, so you may want to take a minute, grab a drink, and kick your feet up because this is going to be a long one!)
Wednesday night, December 9th, was a nice evening. Joyce, our nanny, was off so I spent the day with Hudson. We went to Hoppin' Tots gym and then hung out at home. Ryan had a work dinner so we knew we wouldn't see him until late. It just so happened that one of my best friends from high school was in town for business, so Hudson and I had arranged to go to dinner with her and a coworker. Hudson was an angel for me all day and evening. He behaved at dinner and when we got home, he took a bath and went to bed with out too much of a fight. I set aside some time to do my Christmas cards after he was asleep. The night was flying by and when I looked at the clock, I realized it was 10:30p and I hadn't heard from Ryan. He had his work dinner at 6p and then was meeting up with a friend for a drink afterwards. I gave him a call, but it went right to voicemail. That's the ultimate fear of any worrywart like me...not being able to get in touch with my husband, especially while 9 months pregnant! So I told myself that I wouldn't panic until 11:30p if I didn't hear from him. Well, you guessed it - 11:30p rolls around and still no phone call. By now, Hudson had already woken up and I brought him to my bed to hopefully alleviate some of my fear. I just laid there and was thinking the worst - that something happened to Ryan. Why else would he not be home yet? Oh yeah, I should mention that he had to get up at 4a for work the next day so I knew that he wouldn't stay out too late. I'm already a worrier by nature, but then add to that the fact that we live in Baltimore where things like this happen (Zach Sowers was definitely on my mind as I was panicking), and I was a mess. I was trying to think about what I was going to do. I considered calling the restaurant where he was having dinner, but I was trying to not overreact. So I decided to send a text message to the wife of the friend he was meeting for drinks. I decided to just ask her if she's heard from her husband since I couldn't get in touch with Ryan. I waited to hear back from her, but I figured she may already be in bed. Next, I decided that I would put Hudson in the car and drive around Fells Point, looking for Ryan's car if I didn't hear from him by 12a. Well, 12a rolls around and I decide to call Ryan one more time.....and he answers! He said he was driving home and that his phone was dead (since he was in his car now he was able to charge it). I told him that I was worried like crazy and what would I have done if I had gone into labor?!?! Little did I know what was coming....
I laid in bed, furious. Ryan got home, brushed his teeth, and got into bed without saying anything and fell asleep. I decided that I should pee (again) before going to sleep even though I felt like I already had a little (lots of leaky fluids these days, so I wasn't surprised). I went to the bathroom and noticed that my underwear were a little wet. I didn't think much of it until after I peed and stood up and left another tiny leak. I walked downstairs to check my "things to watch for" sheet from the doctor and "Leaking fluids - trickles or gushes" was listed. So I decided to call labor and delivery, especially since I had a little leakage of mucus the day before. The doctor asked if I thought my water had broken and I honestly told her that I had no idea. Nothing was gushing (which I expected). She told me that it didn't have to gush, but that it could be a gradual, continual leak. So I told her that I wasn't coming in unless the leakage continued. I walked back upstairs and proceeded to change my underwear 3 or 4 more times before I decided that I was going to the hospital. Still angry, I woke Ryan up and told him that I was going to the hospital. He groggily nodded and went back to sleep. I started to get dressed and he asked what I was doing (talking to someone half asleep after they had been drinking was not something that I wanted to be doing). I told him (again) that I was going to the hospital. He stumbled out of bed to watch me brush my hair and get dressed. He hugged me and told me to call once I knew anything and that he was going to have the phone next to him. So I called my mom and his mom to give them the warning and off I went to Hopkins.
As I drove there, I had some time to myself to think. I was willing myself not to cry. Deep down, I knew 100% that this was it. But I kept forcing myself to say I was just going in to get checked to be safe and that I would be headed home soon. I turned on some Christmas music to take my mind off of these events. "Last Christmas" by Wham was just finishing and the next song was "Christmas Shoes". Obviously I turned off the radio and let my mind race. "Could this really be happening?!?" "I'm not ready!" "Why didn't Ryan seemed concerned - how was he able to just go back to sleep?" "Was I really driving myself to the hospital, alone?" I must have driven around the hospital about 5 times before I decided to park. I told myself that I was just looking for a good and safe parking spot (Hopkins is not in the best part of town and it was 1:30am), but I think I was really trying to compose myself and prepare for what the doctors were about to tell me.
After I gave the receptionist my information, she started to walk me back to my room. There was a family sitting in the waiting room and I could just feel their pitiful eyes on me. "Look at this poor girl, all alone, with just her purse and a beach towel to sit on" they said. I really started to feel sorry for myself. I got checked in and changed and looked at the clock. It was 1:45a. By 2:15a, a doctor came in to do an exam. He was an ER resident (not an OB) so his exam was downright cruel. It hurt so bad that I had a hard time holding myself together. He told me that there were 3 different tests to determine if in fact my water did break. The first two suggested that it did, but they were prone to false positives. The most conclusive was an examination of the fluid under the microscope. He left the room to do that and I asked him to hurry with results in case I needed to call my in-laws to drive down from NJ to be with Hudson so Ryan could make it to the hospital. At that point, despite the results not being known, I knew that I was in labor. I called Ryan to let him know that 1. I got to the hospital safely (seriously, this is not a great part of town) and 2. that I was most likely in labor. Since he was going to sleep with the phone next to him and since I assumed that he was anxiously awaiting to hear from me, I figured that he would answer quickly. Nope. After 28 rings he finally picked up and I exploded in tears. How could he be in such a deep sleep when he knew that I was headed to the hospital?!? I had a brief conversation with him and he was off to call his parents. I was off to cry.
At this point, I was an absolute emotional mess. I tried to hold myself together, but I just couldn't. I started to think about Hudson and how I didn't kiss him goodbye and have one last moment with just the two of us. I was thinking about being alone in the hospital. About the lack of enthusiasm I felt from my husband and how that made me so sad for baby #2. About how I wasn't ready for the baby. My nurse came in and asked if I was okay. I told her I was just really emotional and sad to be alone. She was a doll and stayed with me and talked to me to keep my mind off of things. She got me ready to move my my delivery room (room #8 - the same room I delivered Hudson in!). The doctors agreed to not start pitocin until Ryan arrived. Since I spoke to him around 2:45a, I estimated that his parents would be in town by 6a. So I just chatted with the nurse until he arrived.
When he walked in, I burst into tears once again. I explained everything that I was feeling. In addition to everything I listed, my nurse told me that no one under the age of 16 was allowed to visit due to H1N1 concerns. I didn't think anything of it at first...until I realized that Hudson fell into this category. He wouldn't be able to meet his brother or sister. I wouldn't see him for at least two days. And I didn't even kiss him goodbye! I was a mess. Poor Ryan didn't know what to do or say.
For the next few hours, I was okay if I just didn't let my mind wander too far. I was given my pitocin at 8:45am. Things didn't really progress until about 12p. I started to feel the contractions. Learning from my last delivery, I knew that I shouldn't wait until they were really painful to ask for the epidural (since it takes a while for the doctors to administer it). So I asked for it. They told me that Ryan was going to have to leave the room since they've had many dads passing out during the epidural insertion. I have this weird phobia about my spine being touched, so I really wanted him there, but they wouldn't allow it. I sat up to prepare for the epidural and got really light headed. I began to get muffled hearing, so I knew I was going to pass out. They had me lay down and the anesthesiologist left the room (apparently she was upset that her patient wasn't actually ready). I'm trying to tell myself to hold it together because I needed the pain meds! I told them that I was ready to try again, but they were worried since my blood pressure was so low (88 over 55). The epidural also dilates the blood vessels and thus drops the blood pressure even more. They waited a while (as my pain was getting worse) and finally attempted the epidural again. As they were prepping my back, I got an awful contraction and the blood pressure cuff was tightening around my arm. I was getting light headed again, but willed myself to be strong since I need the meds! Finally the epi was in and Ryan was back in the room!
Because they were worried about the drop in blood pressure, they decided to administer the pain medication very slowly which meant I still had lots of pain, particularly on the lower left side. I was on a temporary drip of medication until they ensured that my blood pressure was safe. Just as this began to wear off, our moms arrived around 3pm. I was resting, unable to really move or talk. Ryan has some great footage of me just bundled up, still and silent. I felt like I could pass out if I moved, so I just stayed in one spot. During this time, Ryan and our moms tried to name our child after a Steeler in honor of that night's game against the Browns (this is on the video).
I finally began to feel better and was able to sit up and start talking around 4pm. The nurses asked if I had pressure and I did, but it was way up high in my ribs. We guessed that baby was kicking his/her way out :) The nurses checked me and the baby's head was at +3. They asked if I wanted to start to push and I said sure. I wasn't feeling pain, so why not? We did 3 counts of 10 breaths and the nurse told me to stop. The baby was coming! They had to call Dr. Wheeler and another doctor in. The docs prepped their table and got their scrubs on. They had me push for another 4 or 5 sets of 10 breaths. At 4:45p, as the baby came out, they held the legs closed and gave Ryan the scissors to cut the cord. Then they handed baby to me so that I could hold him/her up and shout out boy or girl. As the baby is handed to me, I'm fully expecting to see a penis. Instead I see...well...I didn't know what I saw. I couldn't tell if it was a scrotum or a swollen labia! So I hestiated for a second until I realized that there was no penis. A GIRL!!!!!! I couldn't believe it. Everyone was in shock. Our moms burst into tears (there are zero girls in Ryan's family, so this was a big deal). They placed her on my chest and we had the best skin-to-skin bonding. She began to nurse. It was wonderful. The nurses said that they like to give the mom and baby as much skin-to-skin time as possible before taking measurements and doing the bath. So, for an hour, we all sat there amazed that we had our little girl. She looked little and we all made guess as to her weight and length. While she seemed little to me, I was trying to think back to Hudson (who was 7 pounds, 7 ounces) and I thought she was similar, so I guessed 7 pounds, 2 ounces. I was wrong! She was 6 pounds, 3 ounces and 18" long....where did this little peanut come from?!?
As for me, I was feeling GREAT! I only pushed for 11 minutes (although close to 5 of those minutes were spent waiting for the doctors to do their prep). I had no tearing. It was amazing how different that was compared to Hudson's birth. I was able to move around with no problems.
We moved to my recovery room (room 372) and Ryan and I were just head over heels. We were still in so much shock over having a little girl. I know I've stated this before, but I was convinced that I was having a boy because: -According to the Shettles method, the baby was conceived on an ovulation day that would predict boy -My pregnancy was very similar to my first -My belly looked the same as it did with Hudson -Similar weight gain (50 lbs with Hudson, 54 this time) -There are no girls in Ryan's family -Lastly, I convinced myself it was a boy so that I wouldn't get my hopes up of a girl (Some other random similarities between the pregnancies, unrelated to the sex, were that the weekend before both kids were born is when I decided to bake tons of cookies and that both kids were born right after/during a Steeler/Browns game. Looks like I have some signs to look for in case we have another one!).
While we had a boy's name picked out (Tyson Miller), we only had a list of girl names that we hadn't decided on. The list included: Harper Hadley Harlow Kensington (Kensi) London
In early September, we fell in love with the name London and were sure that we would use it if we had a girl. But as I became more convinced of having a boy, we didn't really talk about it much more. Now, it didn't have the same appeal. Hadley just sounded right. As for a middle name, Grace just came out of no where. We never mentioned middle names before we were in the hospital. I was walking out of the bathroom while Ryan was holding the baby and we talked about using Ann (since it's both of our moms' middle name). I kept saying it over and over and it just didn't flow. All of a sudden, I was like, what about Grace? I liked the way it sounded and I also liked that it serves as a reminder of God's grace in our little girl. And so, Hadley Grace was it!
And if that novel wasn't enough, here's a little video that Ryan created of Hadley's entrance into the world. (Despite my appearance on this video, I'm posting for Hadley's sake. The announcement of her being a girl is the best part - I was CLEARLY surprised!)
The 13th of each month leaves me a little weepy. It marks another month since Hudson's birth, leaving him less of an infant and more of a toddler than he was the day before. I don't know what it was about him turning 20 months (maybe it's that he's no longer in the "teens"?) that left me especially sentimental today. I don't think the pregnancy hormones are helping much either.
Regardless, I was walking Hudson to the park this evening after work (I don't really have a choice in this activity - as soon as our nanny leaves, Hudson is putting his shoes on, pointing downstairs, and saying "Park"). As I pushed the stroller, I looked down to see the little guy who's going to be a big brother in 5 short months. I can't really travel down that road right now because the thought of him with the baby just chokes me up with a joy that I can't begin to describe. I digress. I looked at this little boy, no longer a baby, and relived the past 20 months. Goosebumps covered my body as they are now. I thought of the excitement of delivering him, the pain and pleasure of breastfeeding, and of all his "firsts" which I recorded dutifully. The changes in Hudson are obvious. But then I began to consider the changes in me, those things that are not necessarily noticeable to the naked eye. And it struck me. No where (that I know of ) do we celebrate the "firsts" of Mommies.
In particular, the "first" that I was thinking of was the first time that a mother recognizes that the "expert advice" is not what she needs to follow as a parent. In other words, the first time a Mommy realizes that she IS the expert for her child. This was a first that took me a long time to reach. I was focused on "doing the right thing" and fearing regret that I often forgot to consult my most informative document of all - Mommy intuition.
On a similar note, I started to think of the first time a Mommy learns to not let the guilt consume her. "Do I go to work and leave my child with a caregiver, breaking my attachment and trust with my child?" "Do I stay at home and run the risk of socially isolating my child from other children, sentencing him to a lifetime of solitude?" These are only two examples of the infinite sources of guilt of Mommies. This is a milestone that I still struggle with and I'm not sure I can honestly say I've accomplished a "first" in learning to let the guilt go.
Mommies also deserve recognition for the first time they realize that their relationship with their husband and their relationship with themselves requires the same nurturing and attention that is provided to their child. This first is one that I feel I JUST achieved. I am ready to take the plunge and leave Hudson overnight with someone. For the past 20 months, I have been with him every single night. No business trips, no girls' weekends, no romantic escapes. I am finally feeling comfortable enough to leave him and I'm proud to have finally gotten here.
I could go on and on about all of the wonderful things that Mommies do. With each of these "accomplishments", something inside of the mother changes. This psychological/spiritual/etc growth serves to better her as a mother and as a person. Before being a mother, I was naive to these changes. Twenty months later, I am overwhelmed by their impact.
Hudson and I have officially ended our nursing relationship as of June 9th. We had a good run filled with lots of cuddling and bonding time. I never anticipated nursing for 4 days shy of 19 months, but I wouldn't change a thing.
Looking back, it's interesting to think of the path I took to nurse. I was formula-fed as were my brothers. I was 15 when my mom had my younger brother, so I was old enough to remember the bottles and the formula. Naturally, I thought I would formula-feed my children too. But, the minute that second line appeared on the pregnancy test, the analyst in me began researching every little thing that I could. Breastfeeding happened to be one of them. Everything I read praised the benefits of breastfeeding: "Breastfed babies have higher IQs...", "Breastfed babies have fewer behavior problems...", "Breastfeeding is cheaper than formula-feeding..." The list went on and on. I was pretty apprehensive about the whole thing since, well, I'm pretty sensitive in that area and wasn't sure I was going to enjoy having a baby latched on. Won't it tickle? Won't it hurt? Can I be sure that I can watch my diet close enough to ensure good milk? My worries are too endless to list. In fact, if you went through my pregnancy with me, I'm sure you've heard about my nightmares related to breastfeeding (including my baby being born with teeth, me trying to nurse a kitten, etc).
Despite my concerns, I knew that I was still going to try to nurse. It felt too selfish of me to not. The only reasons that I could find against breastfeeding were ones that benefited me. "Breastfed babies don't sleep as long at night...", "Formula-feeding allows you to share responsibility with your husband...", "Breastfeeding is demanding on a mother..". As some of you know, I find it a challenge when people question my strength and determination to do something (why else would I have run a marathon or worked towards a PhD?!?). In fact, it has earned me the nickname "Heath" (after my boy Heath Miller). My point is that I accepted the challenges that breastfeeding would present. Why? Because it was best for my son. Little did I know, it was best for me too.
Our nursing relationship had a bit of a rocky start. Hudson was a bit jaudiced in the hospital. He had lost weight, but we were approved to leave 2 days later. As for me, my breasts were sore, tender, and bloody, as if I was marking myself with my first badge of honor as a mother. Our first few days home, I would cringe and my toes would curl in pain as he would latch on. But my son needed me and I was ready to do all I could do provide for him.
After our first pediatrician appointment a few days later, we were referred to a lactation consultant (LC) since Hudson hadn't regained his weight. I was so hopeful and grateful to have some one provide me with answers. I had watched the videos, read the books, and attended the classes...what was I doing wrong? Well, I was being a little too gentle. The LC showed me to really push Hudson's head to the breast. It didn't hurt!! I couldn't believe it. I wish I could say that small piece of advice solved our problems, but sadly I wasn't as good at being aggressive with his head when we got home. But we tried and we practiced and we cried and we consulted others and finally...we conquered. When Hudson was around 5 weeks old, nursing no longer hurt!! An accomplishment at last!
I should mention that without the support of my husband, the girls on the Nest, and the other new moms that I spent time with, I'm not sure I would have stuck this out. A great support network is imperative for any first time nursing mom.
But we weren't in the clear yet. I wasn't really prepared for growth spurts, i.e. periods of time when Hudson wanted to eat continuously. I vividly remember this one night...Hudson was up every 20 minutes or so...I was finally in tears telling Ryan that I don't think I can do it...that maybe it's time to break out the formula they gave us at the hospital. Ryan offered to get it, but before he got out of bed, I said "once we give him formula, there's no going back for me. I'm not sure I can be as dedicated to nursing if I know I have an alternative". Saying those words aloud was all I needed. I dutifully took my maternal butt out of bed and went to my "other bed" (the rocking chair). Ever since that moment, there was no turning back.
Throughout our nursing relationship, I loved that I could put Hudson to sleep anytime I wanted just by nursing him, that I could comfort him and make him stop crying by nursing, that I could share special moments with him each evening by nursing. On the other hand, I was starting to get worn down with being the sole provider of comfort (not that Ryan didn't try), that Hudson needed me to fall asleep, that I had trained Hudson to need to nurse to fall asleep. "It's okay", I would tell myself, "we just need to make it to 12 months".
For some unknown reason I had assumed that Hudson would turn one, fall madly in love with milk, and forget about this nursing gig. I couldn't have been more wrong! While I never actively tried to wean, I took a "don't offer, don't refuse" approach. Well, I didn't need to offer since Hudson made it clear when he wanted to nurse! It didn't help that he never took to milk (I tried cow's milk, goat's milk, soy milk, chocolate milk). So I felt obligated to ensure that he got the nutrients he needed.
At 15 months we decided that him waking up every hour all night wasn't working for us (not sure why it took that long to realize!), and we began to sleep train using the Sleep Lady method (see my sleep posts for references). This was great because it allowed Hudson to go to sleep without the breast. And this, I believe, is where the weaning process started.
We started to get down to 1-2 nursing sessions a day since we were no longer doing the night time one. So we would do morning and 5pm. The 5pm session fell off quickly and we were down to just the morning. Hudson would wake up early, Ryan would bring him into our bed and I would nurse him back to sleep for another hour. It was working until I got pregnant. Between nausea and exhaustion, I just couldn't do it. So I would cuddle him and he would put up a fight for a minute, but then he would find the "security mole" (the little mole I have on my breast that Hudson plays with to fall asleep) and calm down. We started this routine and gradually nursing faded out of our lives.
Last Tuesday, June 9th, is that last time I nursed Hudson. It was 4 days shy of his 19 month birthday. Leading up to that day, I would stare at him each time he nursed, realizing that it could be the last time. Sadly, I don't actually recall the details of our last nursing session, but I'll never forget the warmth of holding my little boy close to me, looking down and seeing his angel face, and wondering how I got so lucky.
I was coming home from school today and Silent Night was on the radio ('tis the season!). When I heard the lyrics "Son of God, love's pure light" I got a bit choked up thinking about Hudson for a couple of reasons.
1. I was just reminded that he (and all children) truly are miracles. I'm not quite sure what I did to be worthy of such a blessing, but I'm grateful every day. Being a mother (and wife) brings a fulfillment that is indescribable.
2. I thought of how simplistic items can bring him such joy (specifically, I was thinking about him being in awe of Christmas lights). This led me to think about his curiosity in everyday things and I was amazed by his development. I can't even begin to write how proud I am of him for learning his sign language. And that's just the beginning of his accomplishments. My train of thought caused me to think about all he will do in his lifetime and how he is the future of the world. It's almost too much for me to comprehend. Pride is an understatement to the emotion I was feeling when I looked into our future.
3. Lastly, I began to think of Hudson's innocence. He has yet to know what "hate" is. He doesn't understand "disadvantage". In his world, there is no such thing as "inequality" (unless you're comparing peas and cookies - clearly not "equals" in his eyes!). My professional work is in stark contrast to Hudson's world, where I deal with disproportionality on a daily basis. In Hudson's eyes, the world is full of love, a place where smiles and giggles are a part of everyday life. Everyone is a potential friend and playmate. I hope that I can take a cue from Hudson this holiday season (and all year through) and see life through the eyes of an innocent child.
Hudson, you are now 1 year old. Congratulations! The past 365 days have taught me more than I could have ever imagined. As some day I hope you will be in my shoes, I will share some of those lessons learned over the past year.
Be patient. This is probably the best advice I ever received. If you can accomplish this, your job will be 90% easier.
Take a million pictures and videos. Your mother has been awesome at this and I'm so grateful. When I was doing your sideshow for your birthday, it brought tears to our eyes looking at all of your 1 month birthday pictures. To this day, we can't believe you were so little when we brought you home from the hospital!
Learn to relax. One thing's for sure: your life will become a lot more hectic and chaotic once you have a child. Make an effort to schedule weekends where you and your wife don't do anything but "hang out". Catch up on those movies you've been dying to watch but never had time. If you have family around to babysit, even better!
No one has the "right" answer. You always hear that parenting doesn't come with a handbook. While it's true, many think they know the right answer to everything from sleep training to feeding your child). Feel free to research others opinions for guidance but ultimately, it comes down to your gut feel on what's right and wrong and what works and what doesn't.
Be active in everyday activities around the house. When your wife is upstairs nursing your newborn, look around the house and see what needs to mopped or cleaned. Your wife will be so exhausted the first year that it's the least you can do.
Be bold and take the "road less traveled". You'll be amazed at how much your little one will pick up the first year of his life. For that very reason, when you get that sudden burst of road rage, scale it back and think about the message it's sending to your child if you scream to the top of your lungs at another person. Same goes for arguments with your wife. Even if she's acting irrational (which never happens ;) take a deep breath, and do your best to diffuse the situation as amicably as possible.
Stay in touch with friends and family. It'll be hard to do but when you have a free minute, pick up the phone and call a friend you haven't talked to in a while. Friends and family are the most important things in life and while they will understand your situation, it sends a special message to them that in your hectic lives, you're still thought of.
NOTE: I was thinking about adding another "lesson learned" where I was going to encourage you to invite your parents over to see your son/daughter every weekend but I think that may be pushing it ;)
The birthday boy is fast asleep listening to his personalized lullabies (thanks Grams and Pap!). And I just finished crying my eyes out as I rocked him to sleep. When did he get so big?? I sat with him, looking at my little angel fast asleep, and tried with all of my might to remember every detail about his precious face before I blink and he's 2. I want to memorize every hair on his head (there aren't many!), every eyelash on each eyelid, every movement he makes as he smiles while he's asleep.
It's hard to think back one year and remember Hudson as a newborn. Sure, I have pictures and videos, but my arms can't recall what it's like to cuddle a 7 lb baby, my hands forget the motions of swaddling a little burrito, and my body forgets the struggles to begin breastfeeding. While each day still brings new adventures, the uncertainty of being a first time parent has now been replaced with a new level of confidence. Instead of questioning each decision, such as is he hungry, is he tired, why won't he sleep (well, we still ask that one!), we've found our groove. We've learned to trust our instincts, to take Hudson's cues, and to do what works for the three of us. It amazes me how naturally parenthood comes. Before Hudson arrived, I was worried that I wouldn't "get it" and just "know" how to be a mother. Now, I can't imagine myself as anything but a mother. As if my special time tonight with Hudson wasn't enough stress on my tear ducts, I also saw a message from my dear friend Jess. She told me how proud she was of me and called me a "wonderful mommy". That brought tears to my eyes. Being a mother is my greatest of all my life's accomplishments.
In an attempt to remember my monkey when he was my little peanut, I decided to make this post a "year in review".
We've survived labor and delivery, breastfeeding, sleep deprivation, and jaundice. We've celebrated 12 "birthdays", a first tooth, a first "word" (da-da), and a first step. We've been pooped on, peed on, and puked on. We've made tons of new friends, attended playgroups, enjoyed "Mother Goose on the Loose". We've introduced cereal, tried lots of fruits and vegetables, and found our favorites in Baby Mum Mums and Spaghetti with Cheese baby food. We've played, we've read books, we've swam, we've "scored!". We've bought toys and learned that only ones with wheels will work. We've met Rachel, Alex, and Leah and learned how to sign. We've welcomed Hudson into Steeler Nation. We've questioned some decisions, we've had faith in others. We've taken advice and we've learned when we need to be our own experts. We've endured vaccines, a cat bite, and bumps on the head. We've reveled in the excitement of a first Christmas spent with loved ones and ached in the moments that we couldn't share with our families. We've smiled, we've giggled, we've cried, we've grown. We've become a family.
One year ago today I was induced! The day went like this.....
It was a Monday and I was 39 weeks pregnant. I got in the shower that morning to get ready for my weekly doctor's appointment and asked Ryan if he wanted to come with me today since I was getting so close to my due date (Ryan went to almost every doctor's appointment with me. When I started going weekly to get my urine checked and get weighed we decided that he didn't need to come). He said no and that he would go next week if I didn't deliver by my due date (11/19). So I packed up my things for the day (after my doctor's appt., I was off to a meeting at school and then to pregnancy boot camp class) and headed to Hopkins.
The doctor's appointment started like every other one. I peed, was weighed (up 50 lbs to 191!!!), and led into an exam room. I saw a group of doctors and was meeting with a doctor I had never met before. She was really nice.....until she asked me the baby's name. I told her Hudson and her reply was "wow, that's my dog's name". Uhhh, thanks.
She felt the baby and said that she thought his head was down, but just wanted to check so she brought in the basic ultrasound machine. After looking at him, she was a bit concerned since my amniotic fluid appeared low (it should be a 5 and I was a 4 - I have no idea what measurement that is!). She explained that if the fluid is low, they may need to induce. Whoa!!! She dropped a bomb on me there! She said this ultrasound machine might not be completely accurate and she sent me over to the 3-D ultrasound tech.
I went over to that tech and she saw me right away. I had the strangest feeling while there. Of course, I wanted to make sure that the baby and I were safe, but at the same time I was hoping that my fluid was low so that I could meet my little peanut! After a quick look, she determined that the fluid was low and sent me back over to my doctor.
While waiting for the doctor to see me again, I knew that I was probably going to be induced, so I called Ryan. Well, I tried to call Ryan. While I was in my appt, Ryan's dad had called me to discuss the crazy Steelers-Browns game from the day before. I accidentally pushed talk and called his Dad back. I tried to nonchalantly discuss football, but I was dying to call Ryan! I finally called him and he was headed home and would meet me there.
I went back in to meet with the doctor. I really wanted to meet the baby, but I also was afraid of induction. In my mind, the baby would come when he was ready and I didn't want to evict him if he still needed to bake for a while longer. I asked the doctor to explain my options to me and she said that I could go without the induction, but I would need to come in every two days for tests and there was also a risk of "in-utereo death". Enough said! Hand me some pitocin!
I was able to come home and gather my things. It was really nice to have that hour with Ryan before our lives would change forever. We packed up our things and I squeezed in a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats. We took pictures, said goodbye to the cats, and headed to the hospital.
On the way, we called our parents. I was calling my mom and her phone kept going to voicemail. I teased her that she should ALWAYS have her phone on when her daughter is approaching her due date! I was able to get in touch with her soon after and she was jumping in the car and headed to Baltimore.
Ryan called his parents and I don't think his mom believed him at first. She also jumped in her car and headed down.
We got to the hospital around 12p and I was given pitocin around 3p. They were going to start me on cervadil, but I was 100% effaced at that point. Now it was time for the fun to begin....
Ryan's mom got to the hospital first, followed by my mom. They told me I was having contractions, but I didn't feel anything. My mom was watching the monitor and was like "do you feel that?" and I didn't. But that didn't last long...
The rest of the evening is pretty blurry. I'm going to guess that it was around 8p when I started to feel the contractions. Then they hit me like a brick. I felt like I couldn't breath. I was squeezing the bedrails with all of my might. Ryan was talking to our moms and I couldn't even talk with them - I was in my own world at that point. Ryan's dad arrived and I didn't even know that he was there. I was trying to breathe through each contraction, but it didn't help. I had to do all that I could to take my mind to a "happy place". I was thinking about the Steelers winning the Superbowl (I am a true Pgh girl - thinking about the Steelers during labor!), putting my Christmas tree up, and Brett Favre (I have NO idea why I was thinking about him - I mean, he seems like a great guy and all, but he's not my favorite). This is also the point when I vowed to remember this pain and never have any more kids (everyone says that you forget the pain once the baby arrives, so I figured this was an important step). I was begging for drugs. Much to my dismay, the anaesthelogists were all in the ER with c-sections, so I had to wait.
When the anaesthelogist finally arrived, I was a bit shocked to see a woman, mid-thirties, that looked like she just stepped off of Haight-Asbury. She was wearing tie-dyed. And this woman was going to insert a huge needle in my spine?!?! And just then another contraction hit and I realized that Doogie Howser or Drake Remore could give me the drugs at that point for all I cared. I'm a bit of a freak and have this weird phobia about my spine being touched, so I wasn't sure how this was going to go. In addition to that, I was told that I had to sit extremely still and I wasn't sure how that was possible once a contraction would hit. After alot of squirting blood (according to Ryan), the epidural was in and man, did I feel good!
Oh no! That didn't last long! I started to feel contractions again! They had to adjust the epidural. Now, it was time to sleep.
Ryan and I napped for a few hours while our parents just hung out. I don't remember when exactly I woke up but I'm going to guess that it was around 1am. I was okay for a while, but then I started to feel some pressure. The pressure wasn't painful, so I was okay. Then I started to feel really sick. The nurse gave me this tiny bed pan and I knew that wasn't going to cut it. I had Ryan grab a garbage can and I rested my head in there and proceeded to dry heave. Since I hadn't eaten, there was nothing to throw up but stomach bile. I had no idea how I was going to continue with labor in this state. The nurses were happy since puking is a sign that your body is preparing to push. At 4:20am, they said it was time to start pushing and I shot up out of my garbage can and said "let's do this!". I had suddenly become a new person - I was about to become a mom!!
My OB was training another OB, so I had 2 sets of hands in my crotch. In addition to the doctor's there was about 8-10 other people in there (nurses, aides, etc.). My new cheery personality came through as I asked how the party got to my room and offered to get everyone a drink (I guess the drugs were making me loopy).
The pushing went well. I didn't feel it which was great. I don't mean to brag, but the OB said I was one of the best pushers she had ever seen (if that's something to be proud of). They asked if I wanted to have a mirror to see the baby and I said sure. BIG MISTAKE. One look was all I needed to shout "Take it away!".
At 5:25am, Hudson made his appearance. He came out crying and that was the sweetest sound to my ears. They handed him directly to me and I had 3 thoughts: 1. He's definitely a boy 2. He has curly hair 3. He doesn't have any toe nails (they were so thin that it looked like they weren't there).
I tried to nurse right away, but it didn't work, so the nurses took him next to my bed to get cleaned. Our parents were DYING outside of our room, so they peaked in to meet their first grandchild. Seeing Ryan and our parents over there with Hudson made me so sad. I had just done all of the work and they were getting spend time with him while I was stuck delivering a placenta.
After I got stitched up, Ryan looked over and said: "It looks like Vietnam in here" followed by "Hey, that looks like a roast" (referring to the placenta). That's my husband.
It's hard to believe that one year has passed since that glorious day. We can't wait to celebrate our monkey's birthday with him tomorrow!
I went to campus today for the first time in 2 weeks. I forgot that classes have now started. I've always loved this time of year. In addition to the obvious reasons (Steeler football, Fall weather, and pumpkin flavored food items), I relish in the excitement and anticipation of "back to school". I remember how eager I was to get back into a "school routine" once I came back to grad school. The first week brings so much zest that the rest of the year severely lacks. You would go to class, get your syllabus, and look forward to (or dread) all of the upcoming assignments. There's something about that first week or so that makes school life so appealing. Even homework is welcomed.
While I was on campus, I couldn't help but to examine all of the fresh faces (and cringe when I realized that some of these students were born in the 90s!). I peeked into a few of my classrooms (as a grad student almost all of your classes are in one of three classrooms). I saw some of my professors teaching classes that I took 5 years ago. I was reflecting on how different things were back then.
5 years ago, I was so driven to make a difference. I started school with great hope of all that I was about to learn and put to use. I thrived on the discipline of deadlines, meetings, and study sessions. I actually looked forward to Saturdays, not because it was a day off, but because it was a day that I could sit back and leisurely do school work at a coffeeshop. Now, I look at myself today and things couldn't be more different. My role as a psychologist has taken a backseat to the things that are important, namely my role as a mother and wife. Everyday, I struggle to motivate myself to move forward on my dissertation because my mind is preoccupied with what I can make the family for dinner or what new books I want to get for Hudson. The work that used to be so invigorating is now a nuisance.
So I looked at all of those first year grad students today and hoped to infuse some of their enthusiam into my hardened, apathetic view of this dissertation and doctorate process. While I used to be motivated by the prestige associated with the three letters P-H-D, I'm now overwhelmed by the importance of three different letters: M-O-M.
Our little monkey changed our lives forever a mere 9 months ago. I haven't stopped glowing since the day I found out that I was pregnant. Ryan hasn't stopped beaming with pride since the morning that his little sidekick came into this world. I know that it's been said before, but parenthood is truly an amazing thing. There really is no other way to explain it than by saying you know how it feels to see your heart out side of your body. Your child becomes the reason for every breath you take. With every minute that I look at my little guy I love him more than the last. It's truly remarkable how selflessness becomes a way of life and your world revolves around this little angel - anything you can do to make him happy will be done since his happiness is the only thing that matters to you. The things I do just to see my monkey smile are countless. In a little book that my mom bought me there was a quote that said "Your baby will learn how to love because of you". If that's the case, Hudson is going to be prodigy when it comes to love.
Taken right before leaving for the hospital
As if what I have already written isn't sappy enough, I also have to mention the changes that the last 9 months have had on our marriage. Parenthood can do two things to a marriage - strengthen it or destroy it. Thankfully for us, it has done the former. The highs and lows of parenting are so much more enjoyable when you have someone wonderful with whom to share them. I can feel my chest expand as my heart grows when Ryan walks into the room after a long day at work. As much as I play with Hudson, his smiles are the biggest when his Daddy walks into the room. Everyday I stop whatever I'm doing just to see his face light up when Ryan announces that it's time for the "Daddy changing dance" (while that sounds wildly inappropriate, it's a rather cute little dance that Ryan does for Hudson before changing out of his work clothes - Hudson LOVES it). I have never felt more blessed than those times I see my guys together.
Leaving the house as two, coming home as one...
Okay, I guess the sleep deprivation is getting to me - I'm not sure what caused me to be a blubbering mess right now. At least I know that my mom and Ryan's mom are at home crying along with me as they read this.
Just a reminder of how much has changed in 9 months...
As much fun as Vegas was, I'm severely looking forward to getting home to Hudson and Jenn (in no particular order :). For the past three days, Jenn has been taking care of Hudson all by herself and I know she's completely exhausted at this point. Strike that... she was completely exhausted 48 hours ago... she's seeing things at this point.
Either way, in roughly 8 hours, I'll be walking into the front door of my home to be greeted by a house that looks like a tornado hit it. The funny thing is that I won't notice a thing because I'll be too focused on surprising Hudson and waiting for him to throw a big fat smile my way. I've been looking forward to that just about as long as Jenn's been waiting for me to come home so I can clean up the house.
Here are the top five moments of my first Father's day:
5) Making it almost a full day without checking my work email on my Crackberry. Seriously, I had no idea what I was signing up for when I agreed to sew that device onto my hip. 4) Having my dad wish me a "Happy Father's Day". That took all of 20 seconds. The rest of the conversation comprised of 30 minutes of tech/gadget talk followed by a detailed analysis of how much rain central Jersey was experiencing between 3:00 and 3:05pm today. 3) Feeling old when strangers wish me a "Happy Father's Day". If I was younger looking they'd think I was Hudson's uncle or something. 2) Enjoying morning coffee on our rooftop deck. The coffee actually sucked but it doesn't matter when you love your wife and child as much as I do. 1) Feeling like the luckiest dad in the world.
Taken right before leaving for the hospital
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