Birth Story, Part Four: The Aftermath

They wanted me to try and pee before they stitched up my nether regions, so Tycho and Kyle settled in for a nap while I made my way to the toilet. Once I got there I was feeling very light-headed and nauseous. No wonder, since I had barfed probably fifty times during my labor. (I apparently won the award for barfiest labor ever, hurrah!) I am an expert at fainting (see: every time I donate blood), and I could feel it coming on, so I laid down on the floor next to the tub with a cool wet washcloth on my forehead.  After resting there for a while I tried sitting up again, but that quickly proved to be a bad idea, so back to the floor.

Nicole was really sweet and was trying not to be pushy at all, and asked me if I wanted some IV fluids. YES, PLEASE. While that was going on she fed me some yogurt. She asked if I ever imagined that my birth would end with me lying on the bathroom floor being spoon fed by my midwife. I said no, but if you had told me that, I wouldn't necessarily have been surprised. They did Tycho's newborn exam on the floor next to me while Kyle was napping. He was perfect.

After a bag and a half of fluids I was feeling much better, so after finally attempting to pee (great success!), I made my way back to bed to get my lady parts stitched up.  I had a second degree tear in my perineum, and two first degree labial tears. I think I got five stitches in total. It was very bizarre feeling. Not painful, as I was numb from the lidocaine, but I could still feel the thread getting pulled through me.

We attempted nursing one more time while they cleaned me off and he managed to suck for more than a few minutes. I cuddled with my new family in the quiet of the morning while Nicole and Tara cleaned up the room. They dressed Tycho while Kyle loaded up the car, and then we were on our way home, as three.

Tycho is amazing, and I'm really loving my new normal.

Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Birth Story, Part Three: The Pushening

I pushed for just under three hours, alternating between the birthing stool, and various positions on the bed. Most of the time Nicole had her hand all up in me, pushing back the lip of my cervix. It was not fun. I had heard from a lot of  people that after a tough first stage of labor pushing was a relief or even felt good, but for me it was the worst part. I was still puking through all of it, but it actually felt better and helped make my pushes stronger. It was all water by that point anyway, which makes me feel better about it splashing out of the bowl onto Nicole.

After struggling on the bed for a while I asked to move back to the stool, because my pushes felt much more effective there. Gravity, and things. Kyle sat behind me on the bed and made sure I had access to water and chapstick.  After a bunch of contractions we finally got him past the lip of my cervix. Nicole kept asking me if I wanted to see his head in the mirror or reach down and feel him and I was completely uninterested. I just wanted him out of me.

It was really intense when he was actually in my birth canal. At that point I stopped waiting for contractions and was pushing pretty much continuously because it hurt too much not to. My moans were turning into screams, and Roxanne had to remind me to keep things low. It felt like my clitoris was ripping in two! I was not prepared to feel pain there, and I was scared that I might be doing permanent damage to it. But in between all the pushing and the screaming I would look around at my birth team and my mom and Ashley and I felt very supported and amazing.

It was such a relief when his head was finally out. His cord was around his neck, so Nicole had me breathe through a contraction while she slipped it over his head, no big deal. The rest of him was easy in comparison.

He had apparently passed some meconium during labor, so they had to suction out his mouth before they handed him to me. I was totally agog. Looking down at him he seemed way too big to be a newborn baby, and instead of love I felt disbelief that something so huge had just come out of me. He didn't cry at first, but after a few seconds of holding him and stroking him and talking to him he started whimpering and then let out a healthy wail. He was born at 2:30 in the morning on Saturday, July 23, 2011.

I barely even remember birthing the placenta, but it certainly was no big deal compared to my enormous baby. We got into bed with our son, and my mom called my dad and my sister to announce Tycho's arrival and have them make their way over to the birth center. Kyle called his parents to tell them the news.

Everyone was shocked by how big he was. (Two days previously they had written in my chart that they expected him to be around seven pounds.) We all made our guesses on how much he would weigh, and Nicole was right on the money: nine pounds, two ounces.

I apparently had a pretty huge placenta, too. Nicole did her examination of it and showed us all of its parts. We tried to get Tycho nursing, but he must have been overstimulated, because he would only latch on for a minute at a time.  After some more visiting, everyone left to go home and get some sleep. 

Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Four

Birth Story, Part Two: Centered

We ended up driving to the birth center with me kneeling over a yoga ball in the back of our SUV. It's about a 25 minute drive, and in the back of my mind I was worried that  we might get pulled over. Kyle talked me through the drive, telling me how close we were and reminding me to breathe. My midwife Nicole and the student Tara met us there. BFF (and photographer!) Ashley and my mom made their way in as well.

I was still doing pretty well when we got there, and everyone was worried that I wasn't really that far along. After listening to the baby through a contraction Nicole checked me and I was 6cm dilated, and my cervix was paper thin. Victory! It was so reassuring to know that my instincts were right and I had already done most of the hard work, and I was still under control. I could totally do this!

I got into the tub almost immediately after they checked me. It felt wonderful, and reset me a little bit. I was breathing through my contractions, in a world of my own. I was mostly doing well, although baby boy had a mean habit of thrashing about just as my contractions were dying down and I started to relax. Everyone laughed  when I kept shouting at my belly for him to cut it out. But besides that, things remained manageable for me. We had spent so much time in class talking about when you can no longer handle contractions and your partner needs to swoop in with his take charge routine, but I never really got there, and I kept wondering when it was going to happen. 

After a while of peacefully lying in the tub and breathing through my contractions, I think I hit transition. I suddenly NEEDED to change positions, and started to vomit at every contraction.  I leaned over the side of the tub, and Kyle made sure that I was drinking in between my contractions to keep hydrated.

I was starting to feel kind of push-y but I tried to ignore the urge. I did okay for a while, but all of the sudden it was getting to be too much, and I wanted OUT. OF. THE. TUB. Nicole checked me again. I was almost completely dilated, but I had a small stubborn lip of my cervix. I tried to breathe through a few more contractions, but the urge to push was getting really strong.

Prologue | Part One | Part Three | Part Four

Birth Story, Part One: Handling it at Home

I slept pretty well that night after my midwife appointment, although I started waking up in the early morning to pee an awful lot, and looking back, it was probably contractions that were waking me. Friday the 22nd, I finally really woke up and realized what was going on around 8:30. I got out of bed around nine and started counting contractions. In the next hour I had seven, and while they were still very mild, they were definitely a completely different ballgame then any of the "practice" contractions I had felt before.


I woke Kyle up because the internet was down and I needed to do something to distract myself. I let him know what was going on, but then let him go back to sleep, because he had a very late night and I wanted him to be well rested and not grumpy later. When he finally got up around one or two we went to the store to get provisions for the birth center, and tuna fish sandwich makings for me. (P.S. By the time I got around to making the sandwich I no longer wanted a sandwich. It made a great post-partum snack, though.) Contractions were still super manageable and I was feeling really good and really excited.


When we got home we started getting the house in order, doing laundry etc. I decided perhaps I might want to time my contractions, and they were between 3 and 5 minutes apart, and getting closer together. This was when I was supposed to call my midwife, so I did. I apparently sounded super calm on the phone, so she was pretty incredulous that anything major was happening quite yet. I was told to call back when they got more intense. We called our doula, Roxanne, around 5pm, and she said she would start to make her way over, but she told me later that she didn't think I was super far along yet, so she took her time getting to us.


Can I just say that I was LOVING labor? At this point contractions were contractions and I had to stop what I was doing and breathe through them, but it all felt so natural and it came easy to me and after each one I had this natural high. I am so not all crazy-hippie-fertility-goddess, but that's how labor made me feel. It was pretty awesome.


Around 7:30pm I felt my water break with a pop. Very very strange. I didn't have tons of gushing fluid, as baby's head was probably corking me up, but the intensity of my contractions really started to ramp up. We called the midwife and made plans to meet at the birth center at 8:30. Roxanne arrived just after we got off the phone with the midwife. She watched me through a contraction and told me that I looked like I was handling things really well, so well that she was worried that they would send me home from the center because I hadn't progressed enough. I shrugged her off; I had been doing this all day and I knew that things were changing.



Prologue | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Birth Story, the Prologue

I guess we should start well before my labor actually did. My due date was July 13th, but I was so sure I was going to go early. Kyle and I were both early babies (3 weeks, and one week), as was my sister, and my dad and all of his siblings. There was NO WAY I was going to make it. Emotionally either. By 39 weeks I didn't think I could handle another moment of pregnancy. But my due date came and went and I was still pregnant.

I was on a cycle of about two days of acceptance, one day of complete breakdown. Kyle said it was like I was going through the stages of grief, except that I couldn't hold on to the end, and always broke down and started over again. I tried to keep myself busy with one active, out-of-the house thing everyday, but it was hard to get myself going, and find people to do things with, and not just retreat into bed for the rest of forever. I was sure that if I made it to my 41 week, 1 day appointment, that I would be a complete and total sobbing mess, and made Kyle take the day off so I wouldn't have to go alone. 

But when I lost my mucous plug at 41 weeks I started feeling much better. I knew it didn't necessarily mean that I was going to go into labor like, RIGHTNOW, but it was a sign that my body was still in fact working up to birthing this baby, and had not completely abandoned me. I was pretty sure that I would have a baby before the end of the weekend.

At my midwife visit the next day I had my first vaginal exam of my entire pregnancy. (Side note: thank goodness my midwives don't do them on the regular, because they are TERRIBLE.) It was so reassuring to hear that I was 50% effaced and two centimeters dilated. I was thrilled, but the midwives were slightly less optimistic, as I didn't have much blood in the mucous I had passed, and scheduled me for a biophysical profile ultrasound and then an appointment to discuss natural induction options for the next week. But I was in such a good mood I even let Kyle take me to lunch at the Olive Garden afterward. (I would need another whole blog post to explain his obsession with the Olive Garden.)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Another week?

Why hello 41 weeks. I thought for sure I would be greeting you with a baby in my arms instead of in my uterus, but apparently not so much.

The last few days have been... tumultuous. To say the least. I made it 22 hours of Kyle's birthday being a good, un-irritating, scarce wife... but then I had a complete, sobbing on the bathroom floor nervous breakdown, obviously. I can't even really recount it now, since once you get out of these episodes it's really hard to remember where your head was when you were in them. But some combination of being totally tired of being pregnant, feeling like my body wasn't working right, total terror at the unknown of (dun dun dun) INTERVENTIONS that I hadn't really thought about because I was sure I wouldn't need them, something something hormones, emotional crier, yadda yadda.  Even though I can't (and have no desire to) get back into that headspace, I can tell you that it was a scary, dark place that was as bad as I had ever been, where my only coping mechanisms are really breaking things and hurting myself. I managed to refrain from both of these things, but yeah.

Kyle says it's like I'm going through the stages of grieving. Yes, except for that once I reach the acceptance stage I can't seem to stay there and head back through the cycle all over again.

Today I feel pretty good, not least of all because I lost my mucous plug/had some bloody show this morning. I know it doesn't necessarily mean anything, but it at least goes to show that my body hasn't completely abandoned that baby-birthing project, as was my fear. Also, TMI, but SO. MUCH. MUCOUS. Really, I had no idea. I've also been having seemingly more significant contractions for the last two days, but they haven't really seemed organized enough to matter, so I'm mostly just giving my belly the side-eye and waiting for things to be more definite.

Today also marked my very last day at work. Possibly FOREVER, but at least for the next 12 weeks. Very strange. Tomorrow morning is my midwife appointment omg scary times, but I'm feeling pretty optimistic about it, what with recent developments. I feel pretty confident, at least for the moment, that things are not going to end all scary scary doctor hospital needle scalpel DEATH. Whee positive attitude! I try.

So close.

36 weeks and counting.  Holy cow. Things are starting to come together. "Surprise" work baby shower this morning, so I finally have a car seat and my midwives can stop yelling at me about that. I am right now pre-washing all my cloth diapers. Laundered all the tiny clothes and blankets and bedding and stuff. Wednesday I will be officially 37 weeks and therefore full term, oh geez.

I am so uncomfortable right now. Baby boy's movements are no longer fun or cute. They hurt. I think he's dropped some, too. Today my lady parts feel all swollen and crazy and sitting is really unpleasant and I had to go find bigger underpants and put on a dress because I needed the room down there. Ridiculous. He's definitely got a hand or two up by his face, because I'm getting painful cervix pokes every few minutes. Thank you, son. And I've been having a lot more braxton hicks. And the heartburn. And today I feel vaguely nauseous. Today is almost different enough for me to feel a bit worried. I suppose if things are still weird tomorrow I will call someone. It would suck, though, to go into labor only a few days before term, because that would fuck up the whole birth center midwives thing. In any case, I have a very strong feeling I'm not going to still be pregnant on my due date. I know I shouldn't get my hopes up, but I don't know. What can you do about gut feelings?

Week 23

Yesterday was 23 weeks. Yesterday was also my mother's birthday. I spent a very exciting evening with her eating finger foods and doing a puzzle. Not exactly heavy lifting, you know. But then when I got home I was having these horrible cramps. I thought maybe Braxton Hicks? But the hurt, like menstrual cramps, and Dr. Google diagnosed that as BAD NEWS. So I freaked out, obviously.

I called Kyle to COME HOME NOW from wherever he was out with friends because I couldn't handle it on my own at all. I couldn't be sure if it was okay to be worried or if I was being an insane paranoid hypochondriac or what. He was hesitant that I needed him, but when I started sobbing he said he was heading home.

I curled up in bed and cried. Curling up in bed helped with the pain, like it always has with my period, and by the time Kyle got home it had stopped. But I was still a mess and I wasn't sure if I should call and wake someone up in the middle of the night or not but how would I live with myself if anything happened? Kyle called the on call midwife for me and we decided things were probably okay if the cramping had subsided, and to keep an eye on things. But even after being reassured I just could not stop crying.

Today I felt much better after getting a full night's rest, so I went to the zoo with my mom as we had previously planned. We had a good trip. I love the zoo. I hope baby boy will love the zoo, too. Certainly we'll take him there often. But as the day progressed I started getting antsy again, because I hadn't felt him move all day. I wouldn't have been so worried under normal circumstances, but after the cramping episode last night... well I couldn't get it out of my head.

I ended up going to see my midwives after their last appointment of the day. Everything is peachy keen of course, and I'm feeling slightly stupid for being so worried, but I was SO. WORRIED. And while I'm no longer fearing any present danger, I can't shake this cloud that's hanging over me. I just don't know what I would do if something happened. It makes me feel physically ill.

I can't imagine this will get any easier once he is on the outside.

achoo.

So I was doing all fabulous and everything when I got hit with a motherfucker of a cold. They weren't kidding when they said this shit hits you harder in pregnancy. I spent all of yesterday and Sunday in bed. Eating chicken soup and drinking gatorade. I tried a goddamn neti pot I was so desperate. (It was effective, but disgusting.) This is serious business.

I'm glad I took it easy, something I rarely seem to do when I am sick, because I felt much better this morning. Good thing, as I had a midwife appointment. Standard. I am the most boring and uncomplicated patient ever, so my appointments are boring and uncomplicated, but I guess that's a good thing. I finally did gain some weight, though and I am officially on the plus side for the first time this pregnancy. Four pounds! Go me! They also had a little trouble finding my fundus because apparently my abs are so "rock hard." Hilarious and awesome at the same time.

However, it seems that the exertion of driving out to a belly-poking and helping my mother pick out a pair of glasses and eating a bagel was too much for me, because by the time I got home this afternoon I started feeling like I should probably lay down immediately. I did, as I am actually learning to listen to my body (hurray!), but at some point I had to run to the bathroom to vomit. Violently. Good grief. Clearly this is no longer morning sickness, and more likely just related to post-nasal drip, but really, I have barfed more than enough this pregnancy, thank-you-very-much.

The good news is that even though I've been sick, my appetite seems not to be suffering at all. Although all I want to eat lately is chocolate cake. I'm pretty sure you're supposed to crave food with actual nutrients in it, but what do I know.  I'm sure once this cold passes I'll be back to pregnancy-is-awesome-land. I could do without the freaky things that are happening to my navel, though.

Where the hell did my butt go?

So, I think I'm feeling the second trimester awesomeness now. I don't feel like barfing, but I'm not huge and unwieldy yet. My appetite is back, thank goodness, and most things taste pretty good. I'm finally starting to look sorta kinda maybe pregnant, although I'd be happier if I didn't also sorta kinda maybe look like I have a beer belly. However, I still have to pee all the damn time, or possibly even more often, even though the internet said my bladder should calm down, and I'm still so freaking tired and need like fourteen hours of sleep a night to feel well rested, and that happens pretty much never, so yeah. But still, pretty good.

I also hear (well, read) that I should be able to feel baby move soon, but I haven't quite been able to will that to happen yet. I spend a lot of time concentrating on my abdomen and trying to feel it, but I don't think it works that way. I am trying to be patient, and I think I'm doing as good a job as can be expected, you know, for perhaps the most momentous thing so far, but it's haaaaaaard.

Tuesday brought another prenatal appointment, so now I have met all three of the midwives at my practice. I do have a favorite, but I am happy with them all, which is good, since you don't really get to pick who will be on call when you go into labor. I brought my mother with me to see the birth center, and she was happy. I gained back four of the five and a half pounds I lost, and my uterus is in the right place, blah blah blah normal perfect wonderful. I feel like we should be doing more at these visits, but when you're pretty much complication free there's not much to do. I probably shouldn't complain about that.

 

As of Wednesday we're at seventeen weeks. No pictures of my cute outfit, because I forgot to take pictures until I got home from yoga. However, as cute as outfit was, it was made up entirely of pre-pregnancy clothing, and as such, was only cute when I was standing perfectly still. Once I moved at all everything rode up or fell down or just generally looked awkward and askew and I spent all day readjusting everything and it sucked. I have now acquired a few maternity pieces, but nothing even close to a functional wardrobe, and I really need to get on it. Beyond being impractical and annoying, things are getting downright uncomfortable, and perhaps worse, unflattering, and ugh. Shopping shopping shopping. 

As much as I love shopping, I don't really spend all that much money on clothing. I mean, I do, but not all at once. In general, I buy stuff that has longevity, and I wear my clothes for years, until long past when I should probably get rid of them, so having to buy a lot of stuff all at once, that I can't even wear for very long is super difficult for me. I guess I just have to get over it, though.

We now have our appointment for our next ultrasound, where we'll find out if baby is a he or a she. I've thought about it long and hard,  and I really, truly have no preference, but still I'm really excited to KNOW anything more that we can know about baby. I'm excited for it to stop be an IT. We've been working on names, and I think knowing more about who we're naming is going to make it so much easier to talk about. And I just can't wait to see baby again, because OMG! BABY!

Sixteen

Little Belly!

As of yesterday, we've made it to sixteen weeks. I'm not really counting the days so much anymore; the weeks are all starting to run together. July 13th feels like it's right around the corner, and there's so much to do! One thing I'm not loving about pregnancy is that there is always some decision to panic about. And boy do I panic. Because every decision is also the most important one I've ever had to make. This is MY BABY we're talking about. It's not like buying a new pair of shoes or getting a hair cut, or really anything I've ever had to do before, and the (mostly self-imposed) pressure of the decisions mixed with pregnancy hormones and my already overly neurotic nature is running me ragged. I cry a lot. Kyle plays the good husband and tells me everything will be fine, but honestly, I don't want to hear that everything will be fine unless that statement is accompanied with information proving it to be true.

The other day I was chatting with BFF (she is pregnant too, a couple weeks behind me, but shh, don't tell), and she mentioned that she had registered for her child birth class recently. Wait, what? Already? Oh yes, she says. Her midwife asked her what class she was taking at her 12 week appointment and that apparently got her going on it. What? At  MY 12 week appointment, with that very same midwife, I expressed concern (i.e. freaked out), about not getting things (birth classes, pediatrician picking, etc.) done on time, and she assured me that they would let me know at each appointment what I should be working on. Or not, I guess. So I start looking. The teacher most highly recommended by my birth center... well her class is already full. Shit. In the end we found a class that we are happy with, and we registered this afternoon, but OMG stress! However, I should tell you, that we are taking our birth class from none other than Penny Simkin herself. How awesome is that? I have now moved on to stressing about daycare. Oh, daycare. But my stress surrounding day care is probably more than enough for it's own post.

I'm also starting to feel quite a bit better about the whole maternity fashion thing. (Is it vain to talk about this so often?) I still don't quite look pregnant, unless you're looking from the exact right angle, and my posture is just so, and you knew what I looked like before, etc. etc. And feeling like you look fat instead of pregnant isn't any good. But I've been able to find a few more good pieces here and there and I don't feel like I am wearing the same tee shirt every day, so that is good. I still need to do a lot more work to build a functional wardrobe, but it probably be and ongoing process, especially since I'm sure some of the stuff that fits me now won't anymore later. BFF and I have a date this weekend to visit every maternity store in the Seattle metropolitan area, so that should be good, I think.

In other news, Kyle and I did venture to the local (well, it's really in another city) Babies 'R Us to start our registry. There are only maybe ten things on it as of right now, since we actually have to research car seats and strollers and bottles and what kind of baby grooming kit we want, but I feel better knowing that we've at least started it and that I've exposed Kyle to the sheer masses of stuff that we don't necessarily need, but that is available to make our lives easier (or perhaps more difficult) with a baby. And I'm slowly acquiring information and knowledge about car seats and strollers, so the volume of choices is starting to feel not entirely overwhelming, and I'm beginning to feel relatively confident that we'll actually be able to make a decision we feel confident before the baby turns two.

A little bit of everything.

Oh man, I have been a bad blogger. I am sorry. Unfortunately now that I've let it go so long without posting anything, it's hard to even know where to start. Lots has happened recently, and I think a bog post full of bullet points is the only way to get through it with any sort of coherence.

Please accept this as a substitute for a belly picture.

• I had my first midwife appointment this week on Thursday. It was a little crazy because the birth center had two births that day so I ended up seeing one of the assisting student midwives, and the end of my appointment was very please-let-yourself-out-I-have-to-go-catch-a-baby, but honestly I'm glad that laboring women get priority, because obviously that will be nice when I'm in need of a baby-catcher. We went through my medical history, etc., and the just of the appointment was pretty much, "wow, you are ridiculously healthy and well informed." I knew that already, of course, but it's nice to hear. Basically everything I already knew; I am at an increased risk for post-partum depression, but other than that, everything is groovy. We talked about what they reccomend for that, and she let me know which local doulas and childbirth classes are dreadlocked hairy-armpitted hippies, not because I care, but because I know such things would put Kyle off, and I need him to be comfortable too. And then I peed in a cup and they took some blood and everything is peachy keen, as far as I know. They've referred me to a local hospital's fetal/maternal medicine unit to do my combined screening, and we're hoping that we can get in before we go to France. It will be our first chance to hear the heartbeat, etc., so I am super looking forward to that, and also getting assurances that everything is going well. So far, the only confirmation I have that I am even pregnant, is my home test pee-stick, and while my symptoms regularly remind me that something's in there, it would be nice to be able to see what's going on. Soon.
•  We hit eight weeks on Wednesday! It seems like a lot. I took pictures, of course, but Kyle somehow mangled our camera cord, and my laptop doesn't read HD cards, so they are trapped forever there, or at least until we get a new cable. However, if you want to know what I look like you can look at any of the pictures from the last four weeks, because I look exactly EXACTLY the same. I know this is a blessing, especially since I'm not "out" yet, but honestly, I'm excited for stuff to start moving around. Or at least for bigger boobs. Something, please. Anyway, blog posts are much better with pictures, so instead of my non-belly, there is an adorable kitten for you at the top of this post, care of google image search.
• Speaking, of being "out," or not, as the case may be, I've been thinking more about how and when to tell the general public about all of this. For the most part, I don't really care who knows, I just don't want to actually have to announce it. I'm a fairly introverted girl, and I don't like making myself the center of attention. I had a hard time telling people I was engaged when Kyle and I were getting married, too. It just seems very difficult, to me, to find a way to bring up, completely out of context this random (though, yes, exciting) news, and like, change the subject to being ALL. ABOUT. ME. It makes me feel horrible and awkward, especially because there are quite a few people who would be upset if they were not to get a personal phone call, which makes it all the worse for me. I'd like to tell as many people as possible via mass email or facebook announcement, so that I just don't have to deal with it. And I'm sorry, as much as I like talking about it, I'm afraid that by the ninth set of aunts and uncles (and we'd not even be all the way through Kyle's side yet!) I'll just be so over answering the same questions that I'll be feigning excitement and it just won't be good. Fortunately, though, my mother-in-law decided that an email would be appropriate for most of Kyle's family,  so we'll only have to make a few calls when the time comes.
• I'm especially anxious about everyone at work finding out. For the most part it will be fine, and I know everyone will be happy and excited for me. My friends that I worked with at my old location all know how much I wanted this so they'll think it's awesome, and there are so many mothers working at my new location that they'll be totally cool, too, so that's not the problem. Just there is one guy in particular that I am worried about. He is technically my boss, which makes things more complicated, although boss-lady won't let things get too shitty because she is awesome. He is a pain in the ass to work with as it is for a myriad of reasons (he doesn't really respect women, we have very different ways of looking at things, communication styles, etc., he thinks that to be respected he has to be an asshole), and I know that as soon as he finds out I am pregnant he'll be super nice to me, but in a very paternalistic, no let me lift that for you kind of way and I really don't want that. I know when to ask for help and when I am pushing myself too hard, and I want to be able to make those decisions for myself, so I can't help but worry about that whole dynamic.
• My plan right now for telling people is to announce just before we leave for France, so at least the news will have a week to sink in before I have to deal with everyone. I'm real magnanimous, I know. At least by that point we'll most likely have fetus pictures, that will make the news more fun. However, if anything looks funky in our ultrasound, I'm probably holding off, because we're pretty sure we are terminating if anything is really wrong, and I don't think that would go over well with Kyle's catholic family. Or with anyone, really. So. But we're not really high risk for anything so I'm trying not to worry about it. One of Kyle's cousins does have Downs Syndrome, though. I don't know.
• My regular yoga class is getting super uncomfortable. I really started to feel it this week. Next class is restorative poses, which I definitely don't want to miss, and then the following week is the annual, teacher takes us all out for Indian food not class, which obviously I can handle, but I'm probably not going back after Christmas. Sad. I did drop into a prenatal class this past Monday, though, and I really liked it. It was the only one I could find offered at a reasonable time (i.e. not 1pm on a Tuesday... really?) but actually managed to be pretty awesome. The instructor and owner of the center is one of the local premier prenatal teacher trainers, I guess, so that is pretty good. I was the least pregnant woman there, by at least eight weeks, but it was good and all the women were super nice, which was cool, since I know like 3 people who are or have in the last five years been pregnant in real life, so. So. Glad I found that.

Okay, so that's as much as I am going to cram into this post, because it's clearly way too much information and now my brain feels like mush from trying to sort all that out (or possibly because I am pregnant and my brain feels like mush most of the time), and I need to go to bed, because the more sleep I get the less likely I seem to be to spend my entire morning barfing. So, goodnight.

25

Today is my 25th birthday. To be honest, I don't get very worked up about my birthday. The last time I had a party was when I turned 21. According to our original plans, baby-making wasn't going to start in earnest until at least this coming January, and so I wanted to go out with a bang, so to speak, and throw myself a big bash for my last birthday before babies. But here is my 25th birthday and I am pregnant. And I am so glad. Really, I kind of hate birthday parties to begin with. They are fine to attend, yes, but the organizing and cooking and baking and hostessing I could really live without. Someone could throw me a birthday party and that would be wonderful, but like hell am I doing it for myself.

Today was also supposed to be my very first prenatal appointment with the midwives at the birth center Kyle and I visited a couple weeks ago. But with the snow, no such luck. They called me this morning to reschedule, which was fine, because I was about to call them for the same reason. But it is kind of disappointing. I was looking forward to this, and all the other things that make this pregnancy feel more real. I haven't even confirmed that I am in fact pregnant with an actual medical professional. Just my two home pregnancy tests and a host of symptoms. I don't really feel like I need to, but... I don't know. I just want to get going on everything, and the snow is getting in the way.

Otherwise, though, my birthday has been wonderful. Kyle made me breakfast this morning, even thought the waffles were only of the frozen variety it was still sweet, especially since he got up hours before he would otherwise to feed hungry wife and embryo. Yesterday I got a package in the mail from my mother-in-law. We said we weren't doing birthday or Christmas gifts this year with his family, but she sent me one anyway. Maternity clothes. A little premature, of course, but also completely thoughtful and adorable. I'm glad she's as excited about this as I am. And the stuff she picked out is completely my style. It will be nice to have around, I imagine, when all of the sudden nothing fits and I haven't had a chance to really shop for my new wardrobe.

That's it, I guess, for all this birthday business. This post was supposed to be a lot more exciting, what with the appointment business, but acts of god, you know. I will say that twenty four was pretty much the best year so far. My biggest wish of the last five or so years finally came true. And I have it on good authority that twenty five will be even better.

Another week.

We hit five weeks yesterday. Obligatory picture:

Not much has changed since last week. Boobs might be a little bigger, but I think that's just my imagination. I'm so excited to watch my body change, so it been hard waiting.  Soon, I guess.

Today Kyle and I went to check out a birth center and meet one of the midwives there. Even though it was just a consultation, and not even a real appointment, it makes everything feel more real, and so of course I was super nervous.

We liked the center pretty well, though. We'll probably end up going there. Kyle is now on board with the whole natural childbirth thing, since he has now read some papers or studies or something and realizes that midwifery is ideal for low risk patients like us. So we're on the same page now and that is good. I liked the midwife we talked to. I didn't feel entirely comfortable there, but I think that was more nerves than anything else. It's a little far away. It took us half an hour to get there with no traffic, but I think it will do. I need to think about it. And you know, get used to the idea that I actually have to birth this baby. And that there in fact is a baby in there.

I've mostly accepted that yes, I am pregnant, but every once in a while it creeps up on me and surprises me. It doesn't help that it's far too early for me to be showing or feel any movement and that we haven't even heard a heartbeat yet, so really I'm just going off of sore boobs and a pee stick, and that doesn't always inspire confidence.

The pregnancy fatigue is starting to pick up, I think. I've been taking a lot of naps. In fact, I'm curled up in bed with my laptop right now, and after I hit publish, I'll probably snooze for a bit and then eat the rest of my burrito from lunch. Sleep and eat. That is my life now. Kind of nice.