Happy

An anniversary and a birthday. I'm not much for celebrating holidays, or my age, but Mr. Bear always enjoys both....and I enjoy eating so I let him take me out to dinner on both nights. Grammy came to watch Baby Bear and Stephen and I enjoyed the peace and quiet we'd all but forgotten about during the last 5 weeks.



A year ago I had no idea that I would be spending my nights awake with the sweetest little bear I've ever laid eyes on. I didn't know how happy The Bear and I would still be together. I guess it's safe to say I didn't know my whole world would be different, and I'm sure glad that was the case because I don't think I would have appreciated it all as much if I'd known in advance. I always said that 27 was the magical baby age, that if I didn't have one by that time I would find a way to make it happen, even if it was on my own. Thankfully I didn't have to do it alone. It's just a guess but I think it would be a lot harder, and more lonely, without him.

*I'm posting this late....way late...but better late than never eh?

Hard To Say Goodbye

After almost 5 weeks of being mommy and partner full time I made the decision to venture out of the house, ALONE, for the first time. Just a quick trip to Target but it seemed like a major life event.



I was in search of a dress for my grandfather's funeral on Saturday; A heartbreaking reason to have to go shopping. I wandered around the store which seemed to be full of tired, crying children and exasperated parents. One little boy stood in the midst of the clearance section screaming, and I do mean screaming, at the top of his lungs. I glanced over to see a very embarrassed mother on her knees with her arms around her son, trying to talk quietly to him, which was proving to be difficult. The screaming continued until she offered a bribe enticing enough to quiet him down and they moved on. All around me babies cried, whined, begged for toys......is this what my future has in store for me??? My break was turning out to be rather traumatizing.

Armed with dresses in sizes so large I was ashamed to be carrying them I made my way into a dressing room, locked the door and looked up to see my reflection in the mirror. Staring back at me was a pale, pudgy faced woman with dark circles under her eyes and little red bumps scattered across her neck and chest (thank you whacked out hormones). The plaid shirt I was wearing was ill fitted due to my super sized mom boobs and though I have often gone without makeup or fancy hair the result this day was nothing short of hideous.

Safe to say the tent dresses I was trying on for the funeral didn't work out. Even if I had found a dress my feet are still swollen a size and a half bigger than my pre-pregnancy feet so I had no heels to wear with it. Tired and somewhat depressed I climbed back into a car I no longer felt suited to be driving (fat, frumpy women and red, turbo Audi's don't mix). On the ride home I did what any woman in my super sized shoes would/should do; picked up a large coffee and a donut. The coffee to help me get through the rest of the evening and the donut to give my fat butt the middle finger. Baby Bear was happy to have her milk source home again and I was happy to snuggle with a soft little thing that didn't judge my frazzled appearance.



Today my Grandpa Carter passed away. I know it was his time and I know he was ready to move on from this life but it hurts just the same. He never got to meet my sweet Madeleine; I know he would have loved her, and she him. The last time I saw him we were rushed for time and space in the hospital room and, added to the fact that I am awful with emotions, I didn't say a proper goodbye. I kissed his cheek and held back tears; one can only hope he knew that was my way of letting him know how very much I loved him and how terribly his presence would be missed in my life. I hope one day my girl forgives me for giving her so many names and is proud to carry a piece of her Great-Grandpa Carter with her.



Baby Bear will hear stories of two great-grandparents that passed on shortly before, and shortly after, her birth. A life begins and others end. Thus the circle of life continues.

*Picture from a previous trip to the hospital in December of 2008, taken by Wickenden.

In The Moment

The house is quiet save a few little "mews" from my Baby Bear sleeping away in her swing. Desperate for 10 minutes in a hot shower I plopped her in the swing, something that makes me feel like a terrible & lazy mom, and after a few minutes of watching the rotating lambs she dozed off to sleep. I got a whole shower AND I got to dry my hair. AND I got to put her laundry away. The laundry that was piled up on the guest bed in her nursery/the room we use to change her diapers. How is it that one teeny tiny child can have so much damn laundry? It's unbelievable.



Now I'm exhausted and, although I know it's time for her to wake and have some lunch (isn't it lovely the way my body is a personal meal alarm?), I'm letting her doze a moment longer so I can sit and write....and enjoy the quiet. Instead of writing I could clean, God knows there is a lot of that to do, but the past month has been one huge moment of exhaustion for me and I am finding that a mother never gets to enjoy time to herself. So here I am. Enjoying it. Or trying to anyway.

In just a few days Mr. Bear and I will break* from our life as parents to spend our anniversary alone together. Welcoming this new year, one where I am not pregnant and growing fatter every day, is something I am very much looking forward to. I know that the coming months hold many unexpected events for me and my head is spinning with the thought that I am living a life so very different than the one I was living a year ago. You'd think that just becoming a mother would be life changing enough....but at the possibility of moving my entire professional direction altogether I am beginning to think my parenting position is the most normal of all the changes I'm facing. Lucky for me I am not alone in this. Having The Bear to support me relieves a weight from my shoulders, though I can't imagine he knows how hard it is for me right now. So, as I was saying, we will take our time this week to remember how much we love each other. And we do, Good God how I love that man. Now I can only hope some miracle presents itself so that his anniversary gift arrives on time....though I'm doubting it will.



Alas, my quiet time really must come to an end. Baby Bear needs the nourishment only I can provide.....and in a way I need it too.

*break....for a few hours. Not a whole day or night. God, I can't even imagine that right now. Although my mother would be thrilled if we did ask her to stay the night with the wee one. And Mr. Bear would be thrilled to experience an entire nights sleep for the first time in a month....but he's going out of town on business next week and for that he can just SUCK IT. Yep. I said it. Anyway, yes a few hours of break, which for me is enough.

Bring Back That Lovin Feeling

My hair feels dirty even though I shower every day. My arms and shoulders smell of milk and spit up. My shirts and bras are all spotted with milk stains, my bed sheets follow the same pattern. Next to me is a little, tiny, snoring baby, looking as innocent as can be. Her little chest rising and falling, her sweet lips twitching into a smile from time to time, the sweetest little bundle you've ever seen. She's napping well, I'm sure, due to the fact that all night long she grumbled and complained, squirmed and twisted, sleeping fitfully in her mama's arms (since she had no desire to sleep in her own bed of course) and wearing herself out. And me. Yes, don't forget about me. I'm tired too! And cranky on top of that. And it's only Tuesday.

Now it's nearly 4 hours later......Baby Bear woke, ate, snuggled, and now she is back in her favorite place; the soft spot in the middle of our king sized bed, head resting on a pillow while I'm here to watch her, close to her mama but comfy in her own space. Why can't night time be so easy? The little pill likes to stay awake for an hour or more every time she wakes up to eat, and she nurses terribly at night. This is all new for us as the last two weeks had been pretty good at night. So we're hoping it's just a phase. Or I'm hoping anyway.

I try to find patience during these late nights and early mornings though it's not always easy. Early this morning, while she hollered at my boob for not making her food come faster and easier, while she flailed her arms around and head butted my chest in her own frustration, I sighed loudly and said her name very sternly. It was a real parent moment come to soon. She jerked her head up to look at me, her eyes wide open and blinking as if to say, "Yes mother? Is there a problem?", and my heart melted just a little. Mostly I felt bad for scolding her even though she doesn't know her name and was just reacting to the noise not knowing what it meant. I don't suppose it gets any easier from here. One day, too soon I'm sure, she will know what it means when I say her name that way. She will look at me with her sparkly eyes and wonder why I'm such a mean cranky parent. And I'm sure my heart will break then too. Or maybe she'll have been so terrible I won't feel bad at all....but I'm not counting on it, and I'm not looking forward to it either.

Oh Baby Bear. Please stay little forever. But.....learn how to nurse and sleep at night the same way you do in the afternoons. Also, I can't believe you're almost 1 month old! We picked pumpkins last night for your first Halloween. It was cold and mama is still fat but here we are! /yet another mommy bloggeresque post

Nap & Milkstains : The Aftermath

When I found out I was pregnant at the end of January I reluctantly went to Barnes & Noble to buy some pregnancy literature. At only 6 or so weeks pregnant I still didn't FEEL like I was carrying a miniature little seedling inside of me so when the cashier asked me if the book was for me I told him quickly that, no, it was for my sister who was expecting. "Oh, well, kids are great", he said with a smile. I walked out of the store feeling uncomfortable (and really, what business did he have asking me such a personal question anyway?) and unsure of this new title in my life. Pregnant. What did this mean for my life as I knew it? So I began reading my book. What to Expect...I'm sure you've heard of it and, chances are, if you've been pregnant before you've read it too. Week after week month after month I read. By month 9 I was an expert, or so I thought.

Whatever mention there had been of the post-pregnancy experience I must have skipped over because I literally had NO idea what I would be getting. It's been nearly two weeks. Two weeks of beautiful frustration. Two weeks of naps and milk stains. Two weeks of tears. Two weeks of kissing soft cheeks. Two weeks of tiny hands reaching for my fingers. Two weeks of loving this absolutely perfect child that I created with The Bear and carried for 41 weeks. These are the moments I didn't know I had been waiting for.



Our little Baby Bear is delightful, there is no other way to describe it. Her sweet stares while she is awake, cooing, and wiggly arms are worth all the heartache I've experienced trying to feed her. Feeding time can be hell at the Bear home. Baby decided early on to make it as difficult for herself, and her mama, by refusing to actually work for her food. I suppose it shouldn't be too much to ask that the milk just pour gloriously from my chest into her open, expecting mouth. I would if I could but instead I patiently work, day after day after day, to help her understand that one must make a very small effort for each meal. She's coming around, slowly but surely, and in the end the work is all quite selfish; I love nursing this stubborn, willful, child.



No one really told me how much I would love loving her. "You'll love being a mom!", I heard them all say. But I doubted myself. I doubted my ability to be maternal. And perhaps I'm not perfect....but I love it all the same.

Arrival : The Alien Hath Landed : The Long of It

"She looks like an alien", Mr. Bear announced....

Thursday morning (September 17th 2009), 3:00 AM, contractions began. At 5 minutes apart I knew that it was the day. "Do you want to have a baby today?" I asked Mr. Bear assuming that we would wait through the day, go to the hospital that evening and...you know...have a baby. We waited...and waited and waited and waited, called my mom over, waited some more.....and that evening, when it seemed that contractions were about 3 minutes apart consistently and I was in significant pain (can I tell you about back labor now?) we headed to the hospital. After a frustrating, painful, uncomfortable, miserable hour at the hospital I was told that my day of labor had not progressed my cervix any further than I had been a week before. They gave me a shot of morphine (heavenly in retrospect but at the time I hated how it made me feel)and sent me home. Sleep, they told me. Had they ever experienced back labor before?

Friday, September 18th. Drowsy from the morphine and the pain there is nothing more to say other than I endured an entire day of 2 1/2 minute long, hideously painful back contractions. All day. ALL DAY!!! I moved from the couch only to use the bathroom. Everything hurt. Breathing hurt. Although my contractions were varying between 2 minutes and 9 minutes apart they were so long and so intense The Bear and my mom insisted we make the trek back to the hospital late that night. Equipped with more pillows than the night before (the delivery rooms might as well have been a sterile room with a metal bed they were so uncomfortable), and ready to insist that we stay no matter what, we checked in and began our hour wait. Inside I was crying. I knew the contractions were too irregular and they would send me home again. "How can I do another day of this?" I thought to myself. Next to me Mr. Bear and my mom waited, wondered, but I knew, I knew we were going home again, and my body was ready to give up. I felt defeated. Was it supposed to be this difficult? The nurse came into the room and watched as I endured a nearly 3 minute contraction, curled up in what was surely the most uncomfortable bed in the WORLD. I explained that this is what I've been dealing with since Thursday morning. Could she hear the pleading in my voice? "Please, just tell me I can stay and have this baby, please". Still, there was almost no progression. My heart sank. She left to call my doctor and as the time passed, minute by minute by minute 20, 30, 40 minutes, I began to hope. She returned with the words I had been waiting to hear. I could stay. I could stay in this awful place, in this awful bed, with this awful pain! I could stay and have my baby.

Back labor, it was hell. I couldn't remember what it was like to not be in pain. Epidural, broken water......still my progression was too slow. Alien was posterior....which by definition means she was causing me incredible amounts of pain with absolutely no result. Without help this could continue for another day, or more, who knew. It was at this point we named her Little Shit and began writing "I owe you's" on her behalf. They started a very light pitocin drip and shortly after we could see that it was enough to make the difference. I wouldn't be in labor forever, it was a relief despite the disappointment I felt with myself at the need for the drugs to get to that point. Time passed and exhausted I lay in the bed, a prisoner attached to monitors, IV's, and tubes, making no noise, just waiting for it all to end.

I don't recall what time it was when I rolled to my side and felt an excruciating pain in my neck. It was paralyzing and continued to get worse. There was nothing they could do for this pain, they told me. "This isn't normal", I moaned to my mom. Hours passed. There is no way to describe what these hours were like for me. I couldn't move or even lay still without the pain taking my breath away. Nearly 3 hours later, as Mr. Bear held my body up in the bed while I cried from the extreme pain, after being told time and time again that the pain would go away on it's own, someone recognized that I could not continue and a pain reliever was administered via IV. I'm not sure if I just imagined myself yelling at them, telling them I couldn't continue any longer in this pain, or if I was just crying loud enough to frighten the entire labor and delivery floor but I was grateful someone had heard me and saw my suffering as more than an over dramatic laboring mother who couldn't handle a little discomfort. The pain dulled just enough for me to lay my head back on pillows without crying uncontrollably as I had been for the last few hours(out loud or in my head, once again I'm not sure).

It was almost 9:00 AM on September 19th when I began to push. I was determined. I had not suffered the past 54 hours to fall short in this moment. I silently begged my child to turn into the correct position for delivery, and as if she was apologizing for the last two days, she complied. Unfortunately she began to feel the stress of our labor and her heart rate started to drop after each contraction. The nurse said that although I was pushing brilliantly the doctor may need to use a vacuum extractor to speed things up if her heart rate didn't return to normal. We had an hour to bring her into this world. A time limit. I forgot the pain in my neck. I forgot my fears. I concentrated all my energy into this little one trying fitfully to join her father and I in that hospital room. "Are we close?", was my continuous question. We were close. At 10:45 AM on 09/19/09 she arrived. My memory of it is mostly a blur. They put her on my stomach and I had my hands on her wrinkly, wet, little body for only a moment before they whisked her away. A respiratory therapist was in the room waiting to check her due to the possibility that she had swallowed meconium during the birth process. The Bear watched over her, camera in hand, just as I had asked him to. "She looks like an Alien" he called over to me.





Cleaned and swaddled they placed her in my arms and explained that she had swallowed too much meconium (she swallowed 7 milliliters we were told later that morning) and needed to take a trip to the NICU. Something about a CPAP machine. "Don't let her out of your sight", I said to The Bear. My heart ached as they rolled her out of the room, only minutes after she had arrived. She spent nearly 5 hours away from me. Mr. Bear sent us pictures and called me to give me updates. He loved her. She was his and she was beautiful. That afternoon he finally handed me our sweet baby girl. I snuggled her close, inhaled her sweet scent, kissed her rosy cheeks and I loved her.





The next day we named her Madeleine. Or, Baby Bear as she will be known going forward.

You Give Me, Something

Last week was my final week at the office before Alien arrives. This means I don't technically have to work anymore....though I spent most of the afternoon today checking up on stuff. MUST.LET.GO.

This ALSO means that I get to wear sweats EVERYDAY for the next week if I wish. And I do wish. Mr. Bear found a pair of HUGE sweats that he gave to me last week. I wear them every single day, from the moment I get off of work until the next morning, and I love them. Love.Them. I swear by pajamas. They may not make me feel look sexy but damn if they don't make me feel good.

Walking in the house at the end of the day, knowing I get to take my jeans off....and EVEN MY BRA IF I WANT TO!.....is seriously the best feeling. There is no greater reward for this pregnant hippo woman. The entire 5 minute climb up our 3 flights of stairs I just focus on the step ahead and remind myself that if I survive (and that is one big IF) I will get to take my clothes off. Aside: I'm sure Mr. Bear wishes I would continue to feel this way once I don't have a huge belly. But now I don't have to walk up the stairs to treat myself to my sweats! It's awesome.

The whole "no work" thing would be much more enjoyable if I wasn't getting sick. Yep. Thanks to some DB (read: DOUCHE BAG!) at the office who got Mr. Bear sick, I am now coughing and suffering a headache. I know that an achy body and sniffles are on the way, probably by this evening. I really REALLY do not want to be coughing during labor. I think the whole giving birth thing looks awful enough without adding a serious cough to the mix.

On the up side, perhaps I can just cough her out.....I know The Bear would think that was totally awesome.