The universe's balancing act

I may not have a strict belief in a higher power, but I do believe there are forces and actions that equal things out.  I know this viewpoint comes from a place of privilege, but it is how I've experienced the world.

So when I found myself recently bitter about all of the hoopla over a coworker's baby shower, I sat and tried to think about why this inequality occurred.  My family threw me a fantastic baby shower that I loved every minute of.  And I did have two small baby showers at work - one at the campus I work at and one with my base department (the members of which are spread out over several campuses).  Both showers had about five people at them.  The one at the campus I work at was very clearly thrown together at the last minute and involved no planning.  There was a cake and a baby store gift card (which, don't get me wrong, I greatly appreciated) - but there wasn't a reserved room on campus, there were no decorations, diaper towers, huge gifts, ballooons, or baby shower plates and cups, and the entire campus administrative staff certainly did not receive an email from the campus chief operating officer about a fake mandatory meeting that would be the cover for the shower, much less three other reminder emails.

I can only guess this was because most of my coworkers didn't realize I was pregnant unless I told them.  At the staff meeting two weeks before my last day, I mentioned it'd be my last meeting until September and was met with half a room of, "Why???"  "Uh, because I'm pregnant?"  "Oh, congratulations!  When are you due?"  "Two weeks, roughly."  "What?!  Where is that baby?" as I mumbled for what felt like the hundredth time, "Yeah, I know, I haven't gained much weight, but he's in there!"

It's not like I feel cheated, really (because that would seem unattractively materialistic to me) and it's not that I'm such good friends with my coworkers that my feelings are hurt (although I am feeling a little undervalued).  It's just that it was another episode where having a pregnancy that didn't fit "the norm" had me feeling left out of this universal experience.

No one would mistake my coworker for anything but 8 or 9 months pregnant.  Turns out she is 8 months pregnant but she does look near term, so I heard a few, "So, how many you got in there? Two? Three?" comments - which, really, are no better than my, "Wait, you're pregnant? Where is he?" comments as my belly got stared at.

If there's anything I learned in pregnancy, it's that it's a unique experience.  No two pregnancies (even in the same woman) are the same.  And we're all different, so why shouldn't our gestations be different?

In the end, I'm still happy to have had the pregnancy I did.  Sure, I missed out on some very typical, standard pregnancy experiences, but in the end I benefited by having a "small" pregnancy.  I lost my pregnancy weight by the time I came home from the hospital.  Since then I've lost an additional 25 pounds.  I didn't have to deal with people telling me to watch my weight during my pregnancy, like I had been told my whole life.  Basically, I had the pregnancy that was best for me.  It might not have been made for inducing people into throwing huge baby showers because I was waddling around for months, but it made me happy.  It was my pregnancy.  I don't do much in the same way that everyone else does, so why would I do this the same way as someone else?

We have to cherish our bodies and the amazing things they do - and honor other people's bodies, as well.  I attended that baby shower and wished my coworker well and pointed out how useful certain things were that she received.  And I'm glad she has all that support and good cheer from our coworkers.  I always have to remind myself that we don't know other people's stories.  Who knows how much this meant to her?  Maybe it meant nothing, who knows - but she seemed genuinely happy and grateful.  And the more happy pregnant women there are, the better.

Dealing With Post-Pregnancy

Many women are used to living in bodies that are outside the perceived “norm” (if we want to avoid even trying to define what the “norm” is anyway).  But there are times when our bodies seem to intersect.

For example, it’s generally assumed that all brides will try to lose weight.  It’s just the accepted norm, in my experience.  If I had a friend or coworker getting married, she was probably talking about her diet and the boot camp classes at her gym.  I didn’t do that, though.  Actually, I had to exchange my wedding dress for the next larger size a couple of months before the wedding because I had gained weight since buying it.  I didn’t try to gain weight, but I was stressed due to graduate school and I’m a stress eater.  But that’s a different discussion.

Weddings are one of those experiences where people sometimes have behavioral and physical expectations of others.  Another one of those experiences?  Pregnancy.

It seems fairly simple, right?  A woman gets pregnant, the baby grows, the woman gains weight, her shape changes, and so on.  We’re all roughly familiar with the expectations of the process.  If you read enough articles or blogs written by pregnant or formerly pregnant women, you also learn that people feel free to comment (often!) about the size of a pregnant woman’s belly.

Even that, in a way, is the norm.  But that wasn’t my experience and, even now as my son nears three months of age, I’m still trying to fully process my pregnancy experience.

I didn’t have the big belly.  I’ve been overweight or obese most of my life, yet during pregnancy, I didn’t gain much weight.  By the time I went in to give birth, I had gained 10 pounds.  My son weighed 8 pounds, so I was back at my pre-birth weight before I even came home from the hospital.  I was healthy throughout the pregnancy and my son is perfectly healthy, so it’s not that anything was wrong – but by the reactions of people throughout my pregnancy, you might think so.

Read the rest here...

Nate's Birth Story - Part 6 - The Hospital Stay - When it got scary

Having a baby is terrifying.  Sure, you have nine months to prepare, but there's an instant when all the visitors leave and the initial euphoria wears off and you realize you are now entirely responsible for someone else's well-being.  In some ways, I feel like pregnancy is preparation for this - in your standard, Western, contemporary pregnancy, you spend nine months avoiding cold cuts, tuna, and aspartame.  You take your vitamins.  You try not to trip and fall.  It was like walking on eggshells around myself for months.

Suddenly, your body is your own again - but your life is not.  For me, this was scary.  I felt like my immediate main objective was to make sure Nate lived from minute-to-minute - and he seemed so fragile that this didn't seem like an easy task (even though millions of people accomplish it daily).

But then, on top of the ordinary scariness of having a newborn, we had a couple of moments that topped out our fear.

Wednesday night, I was breastfeeding Nate when he started to spit up.  No problem, right?  All babies spit up.  But do all babies' lips turn blue when they do?  No, I didn't think so - but that's what happened.  As Nate sputtered, his lips turned blue.  We sat him up and patted his back as we frantically pressed the nurses' call button.  Happily, Nate was just fine.  By the time the nurse got to the room (which was quickly), his lips were mainly rosy again with just a thin line of blue on the inner edge and the nurse explained that he was still learning how to eat and that this happens sometimes.  It happened again a few hours later, but cleared up even more quickly that time (and we didn't panic, although we were frightened out of our minds again).  It hasn't happened since and I hope it never happens again.

The following day, we were due to go home.  Hospital check-out time was 11am, right after Nate had one final check-up with the hospital's pediatrician.  I was dressed (yay, real clothes), the bag was packed, and the room was cleared of anything we wanted to take with us when the pediatrician stopped by.  She informed us that one of Nate's hips had "a click" and that they wanted to do an ultrasound on it before we left.

Best case scenario - it was nothing more than a ligament that wasn't finished settling in to where it was supposed to be because he was breech.

Worse case scenario - it was something more serious and Nate would need to wear a leg brace for the first year of his life.

In one minute I went from thinking for the hundredth time how happy I was to be out of the hospital gown to thinking about my tiny little son having to wear a cumbersome brace for the first year of his life.  My cousin's daughter had something similar and had to wear a brace when she was a baby.  It helped correct her physical health issue and I'm sure she has no memories of it, but no one wants their baby to have a rough time just starting out in life, whether they'll remember it or not.

We had to wait several hours for the ultrasound machine to become available, during which we watched TV and talked about anything other than the ultrasound.  I didn't even call my parents to tell them what was going on; that would have made it too real.

Thankfully, the ultrasound results were fine.  Nate saw his regular pediatrician this past Monday and she confirmed that he does have a click but she believes it's just ligamentitus and that it will resolve itself.  He's going to have another ultrasound at six weeks to check.

In those moments, they could have told me that if I had my head cut off, it would resolve any issues Nate had and I would have signed up and asked if removing any other body parts could help even more.  It's only been a little over a week, but I would already do absolutely anything to keep Nate safe and prevent these scary moments.

Per our pediatrician, Nate is "perfect" - and I know we're going to do everything we can to keep him that way (well, as much as is within our power to do so).  Although I have no doubt he'll always be perfect to us, regardless.

To me, that face will always be perfection.

Introducing Nathaniel Martin

Nate's Birth Story - Part 1, Delivery Day - Prep

Nate's Birth Story - Part 2, Delivery Day - The Prize!

Nate's Birth Story - Part 3, The Hospital Stay - Visitorville

Nate's Birth Story - Part 4 - The Name

Nate's Birth Story - Part 5, The Hospital Stay - When it got hard

From Breast to Bottle - My Story

Nate's Birth Story - Part 6 - The Hospital Stay - When it got scary

Nate's Birth Story - Part 7 - Home - From anxiety to joy

Nate's Birth Story - Part 2, Delivery Day - The Prize!

*I had a coworker who was the cheeriest pregnant woman I've ever known.  Whenever anyone asked her how she was feeling, she would say she felt great: "Now I'm just waiting for the prize!"

So the hubby is seated right next to my left ear and holding my left hand as the doctors settle in to do their work.  My OB/GYN comes in and goes, "Oh!  What happened here??"  Not exactly what you want to hear as you're strapped down to a table and paralyzed from the waist down.  What was it?  My water broke - apparently, hugely.  Like I mentioned in Part 1, I had started having minor contractions the previous morning and (skip to the next line if you're easily squeamish... go, skip, go ahead... are you gone?) I had lost my mucous plug as well, so I knew my body was preparing to bring this little boy into the world, regardless of our c-section plans and Nate's plan to enter butt-first.  And now my water had broken.  All of this together was comforting to me; I felt like we weren't forcing him to be born much earlier than he planned.  As I said at the time, it was like he was saying, "You can't fire me - I quit!"

So they cleaned up the table and got to work.  The next 15 minutes or so are a blur.  I worked hard to not listen to what they were talking about (when they weren't talking sports) although every now and then I would hear something like, "Well, yes, I'm going to use the number two here ... okay, and now just hold that part here, thank you..." I really didn't want to think about the fact that I was awake and my insides were visible on the other side of the blue curtain in front of us.

Finally, the resident assisting my OB/GYN said, "Okay, you're going to feel a bit more pressure right now" which I knew meant they were about to lift Nate out of me, so then I listened.  And what did I hear?

I kid you not, I heard a slurp and a pop.  Like, as they pulled him out, his body made a "shhhlurp" and at the moment he popped out, "Pop!"  Quite possibly the funniest moment I remember from the whole experience.  At the same time, they told the hubby to stand up so he could watch them lifting Nate out of me.  After what felt like minutes but was actually just a few seconds, they had him sit back down.  I have no idea what we said at that time.  The moment is so emotionally huge, there really aren't words.  Soon we heard his first cry as they cleaned him up and they called the hubby over to go see him.  Shortly, the hubby brought Nate to me and I got my first look at him.

The emotions of that moment are beyond words.  Here, in the arms of the man I love a zillion more times than anyone I've ever known, was our son - a little person we made.  And there, bundled in what seemed like a dozen blankets, was the cutest little round face I have ever seen.  I couldn't see much more than that, though, before it was time for my little man to go back to the nurses while the doctors closed me up.

As the overwhelming feelings of seeing our son for the first time faded, I began to remember where I was and how I was feeling, which can best be described as twitchy.  I had a bit of the shakes, but it was more like I had a twitch.  It's not fair to describe it as being like Parkinson's, but that's the best visual I can provide.  It was like having a series of ticks - I couldn't stop touching my face and flinching my head, things like that.  This continued throughout the time they closed me up and into the recovery room.

After a while, they escorted the hubby out to go be with Nate in recovery and wait for me.  Before I could get wheeled in, though, they had to flip me from side to side and then transfer me to the bed that would be wheeled to recovery.  The issue?  The table was about the same width as me (or at least it felt that way) and I was still completely numb from the waist down, so the sensation of about being able to fall off the table was inescapable.  They flipped me to my left and the resident said, "Don't worry, I've never dropped someone!"  They flipped me to my right and that resident said... nothing!  So naturally I flinched, but of course I wasn't dropped.  They transferred me over to the wheelie bed and off to recovery I went.

As soon as I got there, they handed me Nate and we tried to breastfeed.  To my delight, he latched on easily and happily sucked away.  After a while, the nurse came to take Nate to the nursery and a bit after that, my parents showed up and were allowed into recovery to say hi.  Within a few minutes, the nurses came to tell me I was finally ready to go up to the room.  The litmus test for that is being able to move your legs, which was a slow-going process.  I could move my toes, then my ankles, and so on until near full mobility.  The twitching also slowed down and stopped, which was great.  Once again I felt like I had control of my own body again.

And now this phase was over and we were on to the next stage - the hospital room.  Being a surgical patient while also beginning my journey as a mom.  It was sure to be unlike either of my previous two hospital stays, where my only concern was myself.  This time I had a prize.

Introducing Nathaniel Martin

Nate's Birth Story - Part 1, Delivery Day - Prep

Nate's Birth Story - Part 2, Delivery Day - The Prize!

Nate's Birth Story - Part 3, The Hospital Stay - Visitorville

Nate's Birth Story - Part 4 - The Name

Nate's Birth Story - Part 5, The Hospital Stay - When it got hard

From Breast to Bottle - My Story

Nate's Birth Story - Part 6 - The Hospital Stay - When it got scary

Nate's Birth Story - Part 7 - Home - From anxiety to joy

Don't Hate Me

1. Lose 60 pounds.  Lose the weight I gained while pregnant.

I weighed myself today after my shower (note: my first shower since Monday morning; OH was it heavenly).  So you know how you weigh an extra pound or two after you shower, even though you know you clearly don't have two pounds of water on you?  I always weigh myself before my shower but today I was so excited at the idea of shampoo and soap that it clear slipped my mind that I wanted to see how my weight was.

There, on the scale, is what I weighed before I got pregnant.  If we count the extra shower water, then I probably weight a pound or two less than I did when I got pregnant last August.

But you can't hate me.  I made this goal when I did my 101 list revision and wanted to create a similar but less restrictive goal for myself.  Would I still love to weigh 60 lbs less than I do now?  Definitely.  Am I going to really focus on that?  No.  Instead I wanted to focus on a healthy pregnancy and recovery and, of course, on caring for the baby.

What I didn't expect was that I'd only gain 10 lbs while pregnant and then give birth to an 8 lb boy.  I specifically wrote "the weight I gained while pregnant" instead of "baby weight" because I don't like that term very much, but in this case... well... I guess it really just was baby weight.

So did I lose it?  Because, technically, it's he's sleeping next to me.

So now I continue on.  Sure, the prego weight is gone but I still gained 60lbs in graduate school and would like to take at least some of it off.  No plan, though.  I've been eating and living fairly healthfully the last nine months since I wanted Nate to have the best nutrition possible, so I'm just going to keep living as I have been and once life settles down a little and I get used to this Mom thing, think about the next phase.