Booby Trapped

I made my feelings on boob feeding very clear while writing during my pregnancy. Now that I'm actually engaging in the act on a daily (more like hourly) basis, I would love to be able to say that I was wrong. It would bring me great pleasure to tell you that Mila and I are so in love that I don't even notice the dull knife slicing through my boob pain that is the act of latching on. Alas, it is nearly just as awful as I thought it would be, and I only say nearly as awful because she is so damn cute.

Yes, once it gets going it doesn't hurt that bad - most of the time, but that initial pain makes me grimace and sputter a "why, you little..." every single time. And I don't want to hear it from any of you hippies that think I'm awful because breastfeeding is a beautiful, natural act that creates bonding - blah blah blah. Me running around the house half naked and fat, a leaking hot mess, is not beautiful.

I can hear you asking yourself, "why didn't she just use formula??" Can you handle the truth?It's because I am a selfish, lazy mommy that really wanted to lose weight but didn't want to start exercising right now. Hello, have you met me?? I'm glad Mila got the added benefits of the breastmilk, but my intentions were not pure. I guess with all I read I thought I would be a size 6 by now, I mean it burns an extra 500 calories a day, and I don't have time to eat anymore....but my fat ass is still in maternity blue jeans. What gives? I was really delusional, thinking I would walk away from this pregnancy with a whole new body type - that breast feeding would take me from an apple bottom to an hourglass shape before I even returned to work.

After one particularly difficult night, my mom asked me why exactly I was breastfeeding and I came clean about wanting to lose the weight faster. She told me this was a myth and basically I was an idiot...WHAT??? A quick google search of "breast feeding weight loss myth" revealed several studies that contradict all the pro breastfeeding propaganda I had previously read regarding weight loss. WTF. I'm not sure why I so willingly accepted the "facts" about breastfeeding (from pro breastfeeding sources, of course) without researching the topic about weight loss a bit more thoroughly. Probably for the same reason I ate nothing but canned chicken and pace picante sauce for 3 months in college - because someone told me it would be a a quick fix for my body image issues.

Being the sole food source for Mila has been a daunting task. So in an effort to lessen my stress, I decided to rent an electric breast pump to start exclusively bottle feeding Mila with the hope of moving to formula shortly thereafter. Of course I did not really research how to make this transition either, and the result is mommy have more milk instead of less and Mila being not so happy with all the gas from the bottles....help me! I feel trapped. Booby trapped.

Rock-a-bye Baby

So I've got the rocking chair down, I've got the bouncy walk down, I can change a diaper, I'm still boob feeding, I've even got used to sleeping 2-3 hours at a time. One thing I can't quite get right is the singing of lullabyes to baby Mila. I know that she responds to my voice when she is upset, and its not for my lack of trying - it's just that I usually don't sing out loud... not to myself in the car, not in the shower...in fact I think the last time I really sang out loud to someone else was probably in 5th grade choir. Also, because I've never been a real girly type girl, I have quickly come to realize I don't know many nursury rhymes or lullabyes to begin with.

Mila was just throwing a tantrum 10 minutes ago; I picked her up and started bouncy walking and talking to her. Then I started singing, it went something like this, (ahem...):

"Hush little baby don't say a word,
Mommas gonna buy you a mockingbird.
And if that mockingbird don't sing
Mommas gonna buy you a diamond ring.
And if that diamond ring don't shine,
Mommas gonna buy you....something that rhymes with shine."

Luckily she quit crying, so I just sang those same lines over and over again while trying quickly to think of something else to sing...you know what came to my mind? You'll never guess, so I'll just tell you the next song I crooned to Mila:

"This land is your land, this land is my land
From California, to the New York Island
From the Redwood Forest, to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me."

Wondering why in the world that was that was the song that popped into my head, I realized that it was from fifth grade choir! Mila then received a modified version of the entire recital, which was a patriot themed performance, including hits such as "Way Down Yonder in New Orleans," "Oklahoma," "Proud to be an American," "Big D", and many more!

I found this rather amusing, I was cracking myself up - so I thought I'd share the story with you. Luckily Mila found it soothing and is now sleeping next to me....or either she is faking just so I would shut up. Everytime I look at her I swear I can see one little eye quickly closing, and her little snore does sound like "conk shoo." Regardless, she isn't crying anymore.

What's up Doc?

I knew from hearing my friends tell stories that it would take us a long time to actually get ourselves ready to leave the house - so I gave myself an hour to start preparing for Mila's first doctor appointment. Silly, silly, girl. I'm starting to realize now that we're parents an hour is an irrelevant amount of time, we probably could have given ourselves three hours and it wouldn't have mattered. Nevertheless, we finally get there, only 5 minutes or so late, and the following is a recap of Mila meeting her doctor:

In exam room #9, Chris and I place Mila on the table and wait.

Marcia: "I guess we should check her diaper before the doctor gets here."
Mila: "I peed"
Marcia: Gets out clean diaper from bag..."Shit, I forgot to bring wipes."
Chris: "There's a box of Kleenex on the counter...."
Marcia: Uses Kleenex. "That was a horrible idea"
Mila: covered in wet Kleenex "I'm peeing again. On the table"
Chris: Holding first dirty cloth diaper "What do I do with this diaper?"
Marcia: "I don't know, I didn't bring anything to put it in"
Chris: Digs through all cabinets in exam room #9 and finds a plastic bag.
Mila: "I think I need to poop."
Marcia: Makes walk of shame to nurses station to ask for baby wipes. Nurse eyes her amusingly. Wipes Mila, bags up both dirty diapers and shares a sigh of relief with Chris that an embarassing first meeting with the doc was avoided.
Mila: "POOP!!!"
Chris: laughing, "How many diapers did you bring?"
Marcia: changing Mila. "five"

ENTER DOCTOR (Mila is half naked and poopy)

Doc: "Hello, My name is Dr. Wood"
Chris: "Hello"
Marcia: finishing up with Mila, picking her up. "Hello"
Mila: "MORE POOP!!!!"
Marcia: Sheepishly, "She keeps pooping herself" (I didn't know what to say!). Changes Mila into her last clean cloth diaper and picks her up.
Doc: "That's ok. Are you breastfeeding?" Doc proceeds to ask questions about Mila's delivery and how her breastfeeding is going....
Mila: Undeterred...Loudly..."POOP, POOP, POOP, POOPY POOPERSON!!"
Marcia: "I don't have any more diapers"
Doc: "Check the cabinet under the table."
Chris: "I guess we know what she thinks of this place."

The Making of Mila

As most of you know, baby Mila Eve Morganti was born on 2/3 at 3:41 PM, weighing in at 7lb 7oz and measuring 21 in. We are at home now, and I started writing this post a week ago, but turns out this whole having a baby business is very time consuming! She's all, "feed me now" and "I pooped myself" and "wah" and "oops, I pooped myself again." So now, 11 days later, I'll try to sum up the arrival of Mila.

On 1/25 I attempted to induce labor on my own by taking a spill down the basement stairs. This happened just hours before my parents were supposed to be in town, thus foiling their plans of walking me nonstop until the baby fell out ... clearly the walking would have been a moot point anyhow, seeing as how a free fall downstairs did nothing but bust up both ankles and leave a giant gash in my chest.

It was wonderful seeing my parents, they did so much for us while they were here. We had a great visit; I had desperately missed having them around during my pregnancy. They bought me an awesome rocking chair for Mila, did lots of yummy cooking (they are probably still fuming about the grocery prices in the northeast), and of course my dad did lots of handy work around the house (thanks for fixing the drain dad!). While the visit was great, I think even they would agree that, after a week:

((1 husband + 2 parents + 3 dogs + 1 injured preggo) x (overdue baby))/4 room house = 1 baby that clearly has a decent sense of humor!

Our house is tiny, and the room they were staying in is Mila's future nursery...basically there was a two foot perimeter around the double bed in their room. They did not complain once (at least not within earshot), but I'm sure they are glad to be back in their very spacious, very tidy and very not in Philadelphia house.

Below are highlights and low lights of the hours leading up to Mila's arrival:

Monday 2/1: Dr appt in the AM with parents and Chris in attendance to find out if the Dr will induce me since I'm past my due date. Doc also gives me a script to get my ankle x-rayed from my fall last week and schedules an induction for 2/8 (and indicates she won't induce before that). At this point, I am less than 1cm dilated, but my blood pressure is high - so I am sent to labor and delivery for monitoring. Spend a few hours in the hospital, blood pressure is fine, baby is fine, monitor is showing that I'm having light contractions every 13 minutes - at this point I only slightly even notice them. We decide to all go to lunch and afterwards I drop back by the hospital to have my ankle x-rayed...turns out ankle/foot is fractured. Of course it is . After several phone calls between my OBGYN a podiatrist and an ortho, I end up with a walking cast/boot and an appointment for tomorrow morning. Later that evening, my good friend Rikki stops by with her sister, who is a massage therapist. There apparently are pressure points on your feet that can induce labor - and since dad is scheduled to leave in 48 hours, I thought it couldn't hurt to try. She massages the good foot for a few minutes; prior to their arrival at my house, I had been noticing contractions more - although they were still around 13-15 minutes apart and really just slightly uncomfortable.

Tuesday 2/2: I think the foot massage must have worked, because as the night wears on, I start to notice the contractions more, and by 3AM I am crying because of the pain but the contractions are still 10 minutes apart. I try to wait until the contractions are 3-5 minutes apart, as instructed by my doctor, but by 5AM I am in so much pain that I make the call when they are 7 minutes apart. Now mind you that I was walking around on a fractured leg for a week, so I think we can all agree that I have a decent pain tolerance threshold (b/c I'm a bad ass - j/k), so when I say I was in pain...I mean it. I anticipated that the whole pushing process would be brutally painful, I was not prepared for the pain of contractions. Why the hell don't they prepare you for that pain? Why the hell didn't any of you readers prepare me for that? My biggest fears were the pushing and the boob feeding - seriously, you couldn't have warned me?? No amount of breathing techniques made it any more bearable, and just sitting here reminiscing about it is making me sweaty. Anyways, the on call doctor tells me to come to the hospital, and I spend the next 5 or so hours hooked up to monitors, with intense contractions every 4-7 minutes - but I'm still dilated less than 1cm. I am told that basically I have the option of going home and waiting it out or getting on a morphine drip in the hospital to get some sleep and relax. For reasons beyond my own comprehension at this point, I decided to go home - I think I figured it would be better being at home for hours rather than in the hospital. Silly girl.

Lucky for me, the midwife on duty has seen me come in and out of labor and delivery over the past few weeks with my other fall, with the high blood pressure, and she notices my new boot on the fractured leg...she has pity on me and says regardless of what happens to come back at 7PM that night and she will induce me and that I won't have to wait until 2/8 as my doctor instructed.

At home I lay (or is it lie? any English majors?) in bed and basically spend time crying, screaming, and sleeping. My OBGYN ends up calling me at home, to inquire about my foot - I thought she was calling regarding my recent trip to labor and delivery. I start talking to her about getting induced at 7, turns out she didn't know...and she disagrees with the decision - which normally wouldn't matter, but because she was the doctor on call for that evening after the midwife that planned to induce me, she would be the one ultimately delivering the baby, so she had the authority (apparently?) to veto the decision to induce me. She instructs me to go back to the hospital to get on a morphine drip to just get some sleep, but that she would not induce me until 2/8.

Back at the hospital at 5PM on 2/2, I get the morphine, then the nurses decide to have me move rooms, do IVs, etc....so basically I miss the window of sleepy time and end up staying awake despite the drugs. The next 10 hours or so are a blur of pain, sweating, crying, and some sleeping. Finally around 3 or 4AM on 2/3 I get the epidural. Again, this is something I had been dreading. I'm a bit of a wuss when it comes to needles and my pre labor fears had been focused on the whole needle in my spine process - HOWEVER, once that time finally arrived, I don't think I would have cared if they inserted the drugs with a jackhammer in my spine - anything to make the horror of the contractions less noticeable. Within 10 minutes of receiving the epidural, I was feeling A OK and I think I finally got some decent sleep - although I don't remember the next few hours very well. The entire morning and early afternoon of 2/3 were spent at 9cm, and around 2PM they gave me more of the good stuff in my back because I was starting to feel everything again.

At approx 3, two nurses are at my bedside refilling IVs and all of sudden move the fetal heart monitor on my belly - they then abruptly tell me to roll over on my side. Then they tell me to roll over on my other side... two more nurses appear and they are all whispering to each other and I start freaking out. Next thing I know the doctor is there, I am hysterical crying because I don't understand what is happening, and they are telling me I have to push NOW. Just 10 minutes earlier the doctor was telling me that because this was my first baby the pushing process could take up to 3 hours - now she was telling me I had to get the baby out asap. Needless to say I was panicked, but my fear for the baby and the fact that I couldn't feel a damn thing because I had just been given the refill of the epidural allowed me to get her out fairly quickly.

I still can't believe it happened. I look at her sleeping here now and can't believe she was living in my belly...my mom asked me if I remembered what I said when they put her on my tummy. According to her, my first words when they put my beautiful baby girl on me after her birth, were something along the lines of, "Jesus Christ, that just happened...." That seems like something I would say.

I can't believe they let us leave the hospital with her, I can't believe she is sleeping here in between Chris and I on the couch, I can't believe I am a mother, I can't believe that life with Mila has begun, and I can't believe how in love with her I am.

I love you mom, I think I get it now.