Just Shoot Me...

So when someone tells you that nothing can prepare you for being a mom, LISTEN TO THEM!!! They aren't being overdramatic. They are telling you the truth. No matter how many friends of yours who have kids try to explain what life will be like after the baby is born or how many times you have watched someone close to you go through it, nothing can possibly prepare you for the heaven and hell that you are about to endure.

The rest of our hospital stay had its ups and downs including breastfeeding troubles, a fainting spell, a serious case of jaundice and of course the joys of having a new baby. Nothing we couldn't handle. But then you have to go home. Although many of my friends had previously told me how ready they were to get home, I have to admit I felt the opposite. You mean there is no cooking or cleaning to do and I have someone who will take good care of Abby for a six hour stretch every night so I can sleep??? Umm, where do I sign up for that now? It was great but I knew trouble loomed ahead when that gravy train ended.

After checking in for the induction Tuesday morning at 7:30, we finally got to check out on Saturday night around 6pm so we packed up camp and they wheeled me down to the car. Upon arrival to the parking garage, we began unloading the cart and the time came to put Abby in the car seat for the first time. While we followed orders from all of those baby books and installed the car seat ahead of time, no one ever told me that I should actually figure out how to adjust the straps. It took us almost 15 minutes to figure out how to get her to fit in that stupid seat - Parental failure #1.

Once we got home and my parents left, I realized that we were alone. There was no nurse to take her away for six hours when I wanted to sleep, no one there to do the dishes or make food. That is the part no one prepares you for. While my mom was a HUGE help (along with Marili later that week), I was still completely overwhelmed and sad. I couldn't even muster up the courage and energy to call many of my friends back because I didn't want to admit that, at the time, having a baby wasn't the greatest thing ever and I thought I had ruined my life. I really sank into this dark place that wasn't quite post partum depression, but certainly seemed like more than just the baby blues. It was hard. Much harder than I thought it would be. The lack of sleep was starting to get to me. The lack of adult interaction was starting to get to me. The lack of any life at all outside of the house was really starting to get to me. And then, I thought I hit the breaking point.

When Abby was 4 weeks old, JB's cousing JD was getting married in Salado, Texas. JB was in the wedding. As much as I love JD, I really didn't want to take Abby out of town at all and certainly not to hotel where her 2AM cries could wake up everyone in the building. It made me very nervous. Come to find out, I had good reason to be that nervous. Our first night there, we attended the end of the rehearsal dinner and then headed to the hotel. The boys were heading out to a bar to celebrate JD's last night of bachelorhood and I stayed with Abby for a couple of hours while JB went out. No problem there. The problem came when she wouldn't sleep - ANYWHERE!!! Not in the Pack N Play we drug from home or in her carrier or even on the bed with us. That night I slept for about 2 hours total and I was absolutely exhausted in the morning. JB had to go out with the boys again to get ready for the wedding and I simply couldn't keep my eyes open. Luckily, Byron and Gail were just a room over and were able to watch her for awhile so I could squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep. That whole day was horrible. I felt guilty for waking up everyone in the hotel, guilty for dumping her on Byron and Gail and guilty for getting so frustrated with an innocent little baby. Like I said, it was my breaking point (or so I thought).

When we got home from the trip, it was time to take Abby to her 1 month appointment. Upon arrival, they had us get her down to just her diaper and then weigh her. She wasn't gaining weight. So now, on top of my failure to have a natural childbirth, failure to keep my sanity over the wedding weekend, I could add failure to properly breastfeed my child. That was the true breaking point. After a couple more weeks of exclusive breastfeeding with some suggested changes to our routine, we went back for another weight check. Still not gaining enough so it was time to start supplementing with formula. We started with one bottle a day and kept going up by a bottle every week until she was on mostly formula and 1-2 breastfeedings per day. That was when things finally got better.

More to come...

Abby's Story...

Our nerves were high the entire day before the induction. Karen was in town so she and I had lunch. JB was home sick with food poisoning from Blue Mesa. My mom went shopping to pass the time because she was so anxious - I think she may have purchased some regrettable Cole Haan’s. Monday night we made sure we had packed everything and were ready to go. Sleep wasn’t easy but we managed to sneak a few hours in especially since JB was still in recovery mode.

We woke up early on Tuesday, November 10, 2009 thinking "today is the day our baby will be born." Boy were we wrong…

The morning started innocently enough. After waking up at the crack of dawn, JB drove me to the hospital with much anticipation. We arrived around 7:30 AM and checked in up front. They then took us back to what would be our labor and delivery room aka torture room #1. I changed into my gown (which my butt, of course, hung out of) and laid down to get strapped into all of the monitors. Once I was hooked up, I met my labor nurse, Tiffany, who proceeded to tell me that I was actually already in labor. While at first I was quite skeptical about her ability to help me push out a baby considering her blonde hair and petite nature (read: She looked like a middle school cheerleader), she ended up being absolutely fantastic! After Tiffany got me set up, another nurse came into the room to put my IV in. We shall refer to her as Wicked Witch #1. It wasn’t that she was rude or anything, it was that she missed – twice. As in, poked me with that (huge) needle for the IV on two separate occasions and then proceeded to figure out that “those veins won’t work”. Yep, this was a rough start to what would turn out to be an even rougher 24 hours. After she couldn’t find another vein to use, she had to bring in the actual anesthesiologist who got me hooked up quickly. At that point, my only concern was how much this little anesthesiologist extra visit was going to cost me but in the middle of that thought, the IV was finally in and I realized there was no turning back. The Pitocin was on and off we went.

For those of you who haven’t experienced induction, they start you off pretty light and increase the amount running through your veins in intervals. Early in the day, Tiffany told me she had never seen anyone go past a 32 and that most people started good labor around 24. Dr. Monti came in about 10:30 and broke my water and then Melissa, our doula, showed up to start helping. Well, hours passed and I kept having lots of contractions but no pain. Things were moving slowly. Had lots of visitors – my parents and JB’s parents and Erin. Byron was so sweet and brought me the new Bon Jovi album that had just come out that day. He said that he wanted me to have something that was actually about me, not the baby. You mean someone actually remembered I was involved in this whole process?? It was a truly touching gesture. We put it on the speaker and listened to the whole album. We all talked and told stories and Dr. Monti and Tiffany would come and check on me throughout the day. Finally, around 4pm, Dr. Monti came to check the progress again. At that point, I was in so much pain from the checking (no pain from the contractions) that I requested the epidural. That made things so much better – for a while. At about 7pm, Dr. Monti checked again and I still wasn’t progressing so she said we might have to do a c-section. I remember crying a lot because the C-section wasn’t what I wanted so we kept upping the Pitocin until we started making progress. I remember starting to severely shake about that time. It was the worst part. Dad tried to keep me entertained by donning a surgical mask and hat and taking pictures. While it was quite funny, it only distracted me short term. One of my favorite memories is hearing about all of our friends vigorously checking Facebook to get updates. Apparently, it was like waiting for election results and watching the electoral states pop up on the screen. How much is she dilated? Is she pushing yet? Any news at all? I’ve never had anyone so concerned about my cervix!

Remember that statement Tiffany told me about a 32? Yeah, I had to go to a 42 before I was ready to push. At about 10pm, Dr. Monti checked me again and said I was finally ready and that we would start pushing in about 30 minutes. The alarm sounded and everyone rushed back in to cheer me on one last time. Byron called Gail to come back up (she had gone home because she wasn’t feeling well earlier) and all the parents gathered in the waiting room eagerly awaiting the arrival of their first grandchild.

Finally, it was time, and JB and I were convinced Abby would be born just before midnight on 11.10.09 but we were wrong again. I pushed for 2.5 hours and it was excruciating as the epidural had worn off and they refused to give me another one (bastards!). We didn’t seem to make any progress with the pushing and eventually, our dear, sweet Abby decided that it was time for that stubborn gene to crop up. She turned the wrong way and Dr. Monti couldn’t get her back. JB came through like a champ. He was great and I never even got irritated with him for a second. After trying and trying, Dr. Monti called another OB in to help her turn Abby (again, cue “how much is this going to cost me?”), but all of their combined efforts were to no avail. They could see that she had a full head of hair (seemingly encouraging at the time) but we were never able to make enough progress. At the end of the 2.5 hours, Dr. Monti said it was time for a c-section. JB rushed off with Melissa to change clothes and get ready for the surgery. At that point, I had so much medicine in my system and had the shakes so bad, I didn’t know what exactly was going on but I knew I was nervous and ready to get her out.

So at 1 am on November 11, 2009, they wheeled me into the OR and started cutting. I gave JB my glasses so I couldn’t really see much but I sure knew when they took the knife to me. You know how I knew that? Because I could feel it. Yep, I was the chick on the table going “Umm…am I supposed to feel that? If not, please give me more drugs because it kinda hurts.”

While the pain medication was worthless for the actual physical pain and I still felt everything, the effect it had on my brain was so strong that I didn’t really know what was going on. Apparently, she was born at 2:04 am. I don’t remember much after but I do remember hearing Abby cry for the first time and this overwhelming sense of relief washed over me. They called Jonathan over to the table where they were cleaning her up so he could look at her for the first time. They measured and weighed and cleaned for a while and then he finally brought her to see me. She was beautiful and looked like a little cherub and he was crying. I expected her to look somewhat like an alien but this was surprisingly not the case…at all. She was chubby cheeked and squishy and the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

After they finished putting me back together, I got wheeled back to recovery and got to hold her on the ride there and feed her for the first time when we go to the room. All the grandparents were there and all got to hold their new grandbaby. Gail was sick so they all donned masks just in case, but each grandparent got to hold her for a few minutes before the headed home for some much needed rest. At about 5 am, we finally got taken to our room where we would stay for the rest of the week. I remember this poor nurse coming in and giving us this speech about how things worked in the wing but I was so sleepy, I couldn’t keep my eyes open to take in anything they said. I just signed some consent form and then finally got to go to bed for a little while as they took Abby to the nursery for 3 hours. When I woke up at 8 am, I was officially a mom and the adventure began!

The Game Changer...

The next day was March 1st – our anniversary. It was a Sunday morning and for some unknown reason, I woke up at 7 am and thought I needed to take a pregnancy test. Short of my crazy intuition, there was absolutely no reason for me to think I was pregnant. I mean no symptoms at all. But in this case, I followed my intuition and did it anyways. To my complete shock, the dumb test was not as clear as I had hoped. Basically, the regular, horizontal, placebo line was loud and clear, but the vertical line needed to make a plus sign was lighter than Michael Jackson (too soon for the MJ jokes???). WTF was this? Aren’t these things called Clearblue Easy for a reason? They are supposed to be easy, meaning idiot-proof! Not so much in my case. I ran in and woke JB up and his basic response was that “it kinda looks like a plus sign”. Very helpful. We are talking about a huge life moment here and all I get is a weak little inkling that my whole life may be about to change?

Thank you Proctor & Gamble or whatever megagiant corporation produces these ridiculous products. I understand if my Tide might not whiten my clothes as much as promised or if my Pantene shampoo doesn’t truly produce any extra volume as the bottle states, but dear Lord, could you at least take the time to make a pee on a stick product that doesn’t make a girl tip toe on the thin line of pregnant or not? That moment in time (after two minutes of excruciating waiting are up) is game-changer so maybe we should throw a little extra R&D money into that product instead of coming up with another way to add flavor to my toothpaste.

Desperate times call for desperate measures (and better technology). So after two not so Clearblue Easy tests with maybe or maybe not results, JB and I left for CVS. Apparently, they make digital pregnancy tests. Clearly, this is a product that should not be purchased based upon the cheapest price unless you are in the mood to go through the aforementioned, painstaking process of guessing whether or not you are pregnant. So we made our (expensive) purchase and headed back home. This time I took the test and left the room. We sat in silence in the living room waiting for the recommended two minutes. There was no plus line required, no instructions necessary – this time it was either “Pregnant” or “Not Pregnant” in digital lettering. JB didn’t make it to the two minute mark before he rushed into the bathroom to read the results. About 10 seconds later he came out and said “It’s a boy”. To this day, I have no idea why he said that. I just knew he was going to say “just kidding” at some point but those words never came out and finally I responded with “Are you sure?” He was sure and so was the test. Clear as day, it said “Pregnant”. So there we sat, stunned.

It took a few weeks (and Dr. Monti’s confirmation) to get used to the idea, but we were pregnant and it was time to prepare. Although it would likely make for an excellent blog post, I don’t have too much to say about being pregnant because I was very lucky and had it pretty easy. I never puked, never had any complications, actually lost weight for the first four months and only had one tiny scare around six months. A little back pain, a lot of heartburn and a total inability to efficiently roll over in bed after 8 months were the crux of my issues. The shopping, the excitement and the anticipation were indescribable and made up for every negative occurrence. To sum it up, I actually loved being pregnant! But then we got to the very end and things changed a little. While the anticipation was killing me, I was very set on letting her come on her own so I was not really into induction. Of course that was until 38 weeks when Dr. Monti informed me that her femur bone was off the charts in length and she guessed that she was at least 8 lbs with two weeks to go. OK, 8 lbs didn’t sound bad. I knew I could handle that and wanted to give her a chance to show up on her own schedule, but Dr. Monti wanted to go ahead and schedule the induction for a couple days after her due date just in case. I struggled with the decision on induction because I knew there were increased risks so those last couples of weeks of pregnancy were not so much fun. We tried everything to get her to make her grand entrance but nothing worked. There was a full moon the week before she was due and I even laid outside under it one night hoping direct exposure might be more effective and speed things up. A few checkups, two weeks and one due date later, still no baby.

More to come…

It was the Best of Times and The Worst of Times...

So I figure an important part of this journey would be to start with a brief description of the beginning of my new life. Anyone who reads this has probably heard the stories before, but just in case some poor schmuck wanders onto my blog accidentally, here's the short version.

I have been "legally" married to my husband, Jonathan ("JB"), since the Fall of 2006 although I can easily say that my heart belonged to him the day we met in 1997. I was only 15, but I called my best friend at the time and told her that I was going to marry him. I just knew it. Don't know why or how, but I just did.

Since said revelation concerning my love life, I have graduated from college, graduated from law school, got my MBA, passed the bar and gotten married. Getting married was one of the best days of my life not only because I got to make it legal with JB, the love of my life, but also because of my stirring rendition of "Jesse's Girl" in front of everyone I know...on the stage...with a 12 piece band (I was actually somewhat sober, I swear).

It has now been 3.5 years since I got married and found out I passed the aforementioned torture test (the bar exam, not the wedding) and since then I have been practicing as a commercial real estate attorney specializing in mixed use and shopping center development working at my father's development company here in Dallas. Yes, I work for Daddy. No, I am not a moron who couldn't get a job anywhere else. I, like most of my friends, am a victim of the beginning of the end of the good economy of the early 2000's. When I graduated from law school, jobs were hard to come by for those of us who chose to have a life during law school (read: those crazy people who studied 24/7 and graduated at the top of our class had no trouble getting those big firm, slave labor jobs with amazing support from the university while the rest of us were left to fend for ourselves looking for work in small to medium boutique firms or government offices). So when Dad offered, I accepted and it has proved to be better and worse than I ever imagined.

After we were married in the Fall of 2006, we bought a shack in a ritzy 'hood and lived happily ever after until the clock starting ticking about 2 years ago. The interesting thing about this clock is that it wasn't mine; it was JB's. He saw 30 approaching fast and decided that he wanted to become a dad before then. The only issue was convincing me that I was ready. Eventually, he wore me down and in the Winter of 2008, we decided it was time to start trying for a baby. Long story short, 4 months of trying, two filets, one lobster tail and a bottle of champagne later, we accomplished our goal. After years of going to nice restaurants and really living it up on Valentine's Day, we decided to save a little cash, stay home and cook a good dinner in our pj's and just relax. Like I said, two filets, one lobster tail and a bottle of champagne later, and this whole adventure started. That was the most expensive Valentine's Day dinner EVER!!!

A couple of weeks later, we went and had more filets and lobster (do you see a pattern here?) to celebrate the 12th anniversary of our first date. This dinner is one of our little traditions. Plus, we had a great coupon for that restaurant! That was the last night of life as I knew it...

More to come later!

There's a first time for everything...

So a couple of years ago, I remember hearing on the radio that one of the new Webster's Dictionary words was "blog". I also remember thinking to myself, "WTF is a blog?"

Well, a couple of years and one fantastic example later, here we are. After being inspired by my cousin-in-law/good friend Shannon Bralley whose own blog I seem to be glued to, I have decided to start my own blog. Now that Abby is here, I think I finally understand just how precious life is and just how fast it passes by so this blog is mainly an effort to record the events in my life. Maybe one day, years from now (after she puts me in an old folks home or has me committed) I can take a copy of this blog with me to help me remember the good, the bad and the ugly. I figure sometimes it will be more theraputic for me than anything else, but just in case anyone decides to take an interest in my life, I'll publish it on the internet for the world to see. So here goes...