34 Weeks- Fleeting Time

I cannot believe I am merely 6 weeks away from my due date. As any woman at this stage, I have mixed feelings. I'd love to be relieved of all of my pregnancy ailments, but I'm also clutching the last few moments as a mother of 2, family of 4. I'm trying to spend as much time with Chloe and Auron as possible while I can since I'll be so occupied breastfeeding and kangaroo-caring my new little Yummy.



Last night when we put the kids to bed, Auron was feeling particularly clingy, so I cradled him in my lap while I sat on my exercise ball and bounced him to sleep, knowing that the time I have to rock (or bounce) him to sleep uninterrupted is closing, moment-by-moment. And I felt a sense of sadness. My baby boy is no longer going to be the baby and I won't be able to devote so much time cuddling (and, yes, coddling) him as I have done for the past two and a half years. He'll be pushed to the "older sibling" slot and he'll have to deal with my diverted attention to a new baby brother or sister. I'm not sure how well he'll handle the transition, as much as he seems excited about the prospect of a new baby.


Chloe was never jealous of Auron. She handled the situation in a different way. She hated me and replaced me with her daddy. In fact, she began doing this when I weaned her 5 months before his birth when I (traumatically) weaned her from the breast. She felt I rejected her by refusing to connect with her the way we had always done and adding a new baby that got my mostly-undivided attention only made it worse. We've reconnected over time and are mostly healed, but I wonder what may have happened had I waited longer to have Auron, as I have done with this baby (which will be a 31-month difference compared to the 23-month spacing of my first two).


I know that somehow we will all get through this adjustment as all families with a new baby have done and I believe that having the experience of Chloe to Chloe + Auron will help us to handle the situation with more wisdom and tact.


As for the pregnancy, it is continuing well. I had gained 6 pounds between my last two appointments (2 weeks apart), putting me up to 22 pounds in total; still not bad although it is a bit much for a two-week period. I guess I'll start watching my late night snacking a bit. Baby was still vertex and my midwife predicted it to be a boy. Daniel still needs to find a boy's name but he did an excellent job of picking the most beautiful girl's name (which will not be revealed until the birth). I had chosen Lily several months ago for a first name, but the name he came up with was so spectacular that I demoted it to middle name status.


I've been having many more Braxton Hicks contractions lately which were made much worse when I took a fall yesterday. I went to the neighbor's house to retrieve my silly dog that had escaped and when I got her on the leash, she jerked forward to try to chase one of the neighbor dogs that runs loose and I lost my balance in the gravel and fell forward, cutting my hand and leg and deeply cutting into my pride. My uterus was very irritated for most of the day after this and made me uncomfortable and a little worried. I knew I would probably not be thrust into early labor and was glad that I could shield my belly from the impact with my hands, so everything turned out fine.


I ordered my birthing kit online yesterday as well as the start of nursing bras. I began packing my birthing center bag as well so I continue to feel more and more prepared with each step. I also ordered some incredibly divine ichiko shochu which is Japanese barley vodka that I sampled while in Los Angeles to use for my placenta tincture. By the way- holy cow, shipping on mail-order alcohol is ridiculous!! It was $20 for shipping for a $19-dollar bottle of alcohol! ...I should have just taken the time and found it in Albuquerque. Oh well, live and learn.


I will be able to deliver at the birth center at 36 weeks, so I have 2 more weeks to keep this baby in here so that I can avoid an icky hospital experience. I keep feeling like this baby is going to come sooner than my desired 4 days late (November 5th is my grandparent's anniversary), but I'm doing my best to keep him/her inside until we have reached full term.


This weekend is my baby shower and I am very excited about celebrating this baby with my closest friends and family.

Chloe’s Birth: The child who made me a mother.

It took a year to conceive her, with a miscarriage at 10 weeks in the middle that ended on Easter, 2005. I knew the moment it happened that she was with me. I took a pregnancy test 3 days before my cycle was due and it was positive. That was the only home pregnancy test I ever took with her. My pregnancy was filled with dreams of meeting her and the new life to come. It was a healthy pregnancy with no complications until the end. I was not very active and probably ate too much; I gained 42 pounds, topping the scales at almost 190 pounds.

My due date came and went and a 6-mile walk with Daniel did no good but cause fatigue. Finally, 6 days after my due date, my water broke. It was 2:30pm on Wednesday, March 28th. I called Daniel home from work so that we could drive an hour to the hospital, not knowing how quickly labor would be. My mom came with us and I kept a notebook, timing contractions that started about 45 minutes after the water broke. They were very gentle and not coming frequently in the beginning.

Arriving at triage, I am 2 centimeters dilated and am told to walk around the hospital and eat lightly so we head down to Subway and try to get labor going. We walk and walk and walk. Eventually we go back and get set up in a room. The birthing suites were very nice and comfortable. Visitors begin arriving. I’m checked occasionally and am not progressing very quickly, despite the increasing pain of the contractions. Family and friends who were well-meaning ended up making me feel out of sorts and stressed, extending labor further.

Fast-forward to the next evening, 28 hours after water broke. I’ve dilated to 8 centimeters and things are going downhill. By this point, I have no energy to stay on top of the contractions and exhaustion is getting the best of me. I end up sleeping through the contractions in the last few hours. The baby stops responding to the contractions and is not fully engaged in the pelvis and the on-call midwife is concerned about my water being broken for so long (with so many vaginal exams, infection is likely). I’m talked into a dose of an IV drug, Nubain. It does nothing but make me even more tired. An amnioinfusion is done to try to cushion the baby, in hope of making her relax and come down the birth canal. As far as I can tell this has no effect. I’m also instructed to get on my hands and knees to help with her descent. This is difficult because the contractions are killing me and I have zero energy.

Finally, “c-section” is brought up and I have no fight left in me to combat this idea. The midwife explains the combination of factors that make it seem like the best option: water broken past 24 hours, “failure to progress” (which I suspect was not true), failure to engage, fetal distress, and maternal exhaustion. I agree and am wheeled into the OR for the prep.

In the OR, I’m told to sit up so that I can receive my spinal and have one last contraction. The anesthesiologist says, “That may be the last contraction you ever feel.” Once I’m numb and ready for the procedure, Daniel’s brought in, dressed in scrubs and a mask. Most of it’s a blur because I’m in and out of consciousness, trying to stay awake for the birth of my baby. Then she’s out and I hear crying. “5:56 pm.” The nurse asks me if I want “a little margarita” in my IV and I just nod. Then I’m asleep. Once the rest is over and I’m all sewn up, I’m wheeled into the private recovery room where Daniel and my sweet little girl are waiting. I get to hold her 30-45 minutes after she’s born and, although I’m dead tired and half-numb, I am so relieved to have her out and see that she’s healthy.

One stupid thought I had when I was being wheeled into the OR and after the c-section was, “Oh, thank God. Now it’ll just be me and Daniel and since visiting hours are now over and everyone else has to come back tomorrow to see my new baby, I’ll have her to myself!” That was definitely a perk!

I try to nurse her right away in the recovery room, with the help of the nurse and it’s not exactly successful, but it’s a good time to get acquainted. I continue trying to breastfeed her over the next few days and it proves very difficult. Chloe was born with her tongue sticking out. I mean, her head was born, sticking out of me, and she’s looking up at the doctors with her tongue sticking out at them- not a happy girl. Turned out that she kept it out for the next 3 months and that made it hard for her to learn breastfeeding and I experienced cracked, bleeding nipples. Since I refused formula (it was never an option for me) and breastfeeding wasn’t getting the job done, she developed moderate jaundice. She was put under the bili-lights for 24-36 hours because her level got up to 19 and the doctors got concerned. So we spent most of that time in the nursery with her, feeding, cuddling her, and holding her under the lights.

Finally I received a visit from the midwife who had taken care of my prenatal care and we discuss the birth and the breastfeeding problems. I had been visited previously from an on-staff lactation consultant who did nothing to improve the situation except frustrate and confuse me and piss off Chloe by shoving her onto my breast. My midwife suggested I try the “football” hold. We get her all setup, I move her in slow-motion toward my breast to latch on and… it works. Since that latch-on, she nursed like a champ. I continued to have soreness from the previous damage, but it healed after that and my temporary use of a nipple shield was discontinued.

Afterbirth experience

Once home, I was stuck in bed to recover with my new tiny angel and Percocet. I had Daniel there helping me for the first week or so but I couldn’t tell you what it was like because the drugs had me so out of it that it’s all a haze. Somehow we made it through that time without any drug-induced mishaps and I eventually come out of the Percocet Haze. Once it was just me and my girl, I settle into a routine of cuddle, nurse, nap, cuddle, but something is amiss.

As I described in a previous post, my uterus was not ready to let go of her and experienced its own version of post-traumatic stress disorder which was cured with sessions of closeness between the two.

I went on to breastfeed Chloe until she was 18 ½ months old, when I was 4 months pregnant with her little brother.

She still has the stick-your-tongue-out-at-the-world attitude. That’s my girl!