Happy 1 Month, Evelyn!

My little bird turns 1 month old today. Part of me finds it hard to believe she's that old already while another party of me can't believe my life has changed so much in such a short amount of time. Here are some highlights of the past month.

Saturday afternoon, after being told that the contractions I'd been having every five minutes for the past 16 hours weren't "real labor," my husband and I decided a walk along the beach might help either put a stop to things or speed things along. During our walk, we saw a group of dolphins swim by (but no, didn't grab a photo of them):

Around 3pm on Monday, May 31 (yes, those contractions that started Friday night were, indeed, the real thing and never did let up), the doctor decided a C-section was needed since the baby's heart rate dropped with each contraction. While I had an epidural to help me cope, Craig had only his nerves:

Our little bird was finally delivered at 4:18pm on May 31, weighed six pounds and 13 ounces, and was 19 inches long.

Evelyn's grammy from Kansas flew out at the last minute to be here:

In addition to going home, getting her first bath, and meeting the dogs, Evelyn Grace got all dolled up to celebrate Father's Day with a group of new and future dads who made all over her:

For her one month birthday, Evelyn's grammy is back in town and brought Grandpa and Aunt Kimberly along. Now, Evelyn just can't wait to meet her Papa and Nana for her very first Fourth of July!

Post-Partum Worries

I'm a worry wart. When I was exhibiting all the signs of early pregnancy, I told my best friend I thought I had cysts or endometriosis or something else that would render me infertile. She told me to shut up and use one of her pregnancy tests. When that came back positive, I worried that the cold turkey sandwich I had for lunch would impart food poisoning to the unborn baby or that the head cold I had would develop into a full blown infection and I'd go into early labor. When the contractions started and labor refused to progress for days on end, I worried that contractions was a new reality of my life--that I'd just have to live with them another three weeks until my due date. Now, the baby's here, and while I'm not suffering from any of the post-partum blues people keep asking me about, I AM worrying. I am absolutely scared to death that I will wake one morning to find Evelyn Grace dead in her crib. When she naps during the day, I go in and hold my finger to her nose to make sure breath is still blowing out of her little nostrils. When she starts fussing in the night, I make Craig get up to check that she isn't suffocating on spit up. On car rides, I blast the air conditioning so she won't overheat and then I crank it off and pile her with blankets so she won't freeze.

But she's made it through two weeks of life and each day she's alive, I feel a little more at ease. Plus, her two week checkup yesterday REALLY put my mind to rest. At two weeks old, the doctor wanted her to have gained half a pound from her one week checkup. Well, my little bird did twice better--she gained a full pound exactly and didn't grow any taller! She's quite the chunk these days. Of course, she's also started spitting up after each meal and the doctor thinks (based on this incredible weight gain) that it's from getting overly full at each feeding.

So now I worry about that. When I let her go her customary 10 minutes on each side, I worry that I'm stuffing her to death and causing her to spit up (which, actually, I probably am. God knows she certainly does spit up!). When I pull her off after only five minutes on each side, I worry that I'm starving her. Then Craig points out all the dirty diapers we're changing and all the fat building up on her legs. That's when I worry that I'm creating one of those new "obese child" phenoms.

Week 1 Highlights

Yesterday at 4:18pm, we celebrated our little bird's 1 Week birthday. While it's hard to believe she's a week old already, so much has happened in that one week that it's a little surprising she's only one week old! When Craig joined me in the operating room around 4pm on May 31, I was already nauseous and trembling a little from the medications and absolutely scared to death. In hindsight, I'm not sure what I was scared of and I doubt I knew even then. Regardless, despite his best efforts to comfort me, Craig was visibly frightened too, as (I think) this photo shows.

Since that time, we've survived two earthquakes, hurtled over nursing obstacles, met the dogs, had a bath, and gone out for multiple walks around the neighborhood and an embarrassingly large number of trips to and from both Target and Babies R Us. The dogs love Evelyn, by the way. We were worried about our overly dominant, aggressively territorial miniature pinscher, but she immediately transferred all of her protective instincts toward Evelyn--chasing the other miniature pinscher away from the baby and settling herself between my feet on high alert whenever I went to nurse Evelyn.

All in all, it's been an amazing first week! Sometimes I think I don't want her to grow any more--just stay a tiny baby forever--but I can't wait to see what kind of person she'll grow up to be.

A Memorial Day Labor

Well, as most of you probably already know, Little Bird was born on Memorial Day, May 31, at 4:18pm Pacific Daylight Time. It was a difficult labor weekend all around. Here's the lowdown.

Thursday morning, Craig and I went in for our 37 week appointment. While there, our doctor checked us and said that I was dilated to about 1.5cm and had various other signs of imminent labor. She said that if I had strong contractions five minutes apart for two hours to go to the hospital. Well, Friday evening, strong contractions started coming. They came every 15 minutes for about two hours while we watched The Soloist (that movie will now be forever linked in my mind!). After the movie ended, they were coming every 7 minutes. We went on a walk, they came every 3 minutes. We washed dishes, every 5 minutes. I sat in the tub and drank water and rested on my side and Saturday morning, when the contractions were still 5 minutes apart, we went on to the hospital. Much to my disappointment, after all those hours of contractions, I was still only between 1 and 2 cm. They let me stay for two hours, checked me again, and sent me home, telling me to come back when I had "difficulty walking and talking through contractions."

Although we were told that "active" labor could still be days away and that we should continue our holiday plans, the contractions by this point were strong enough I didn't want to do anything. So we rested the rest of the day. Sunday, the contractions were still 3-5 minutes apart and MUCH stronger. I had extreme difficulty walking around the park and had to stop speaking when the contractions came. So we went back to the hospital. I was STILL only 1-2 cm. They kept me two hours, checked again, and prepared to send me home again.Since I wasn't yet at 38 weeks, they didn't want to induce me and since I was further than 36 weeks, they didn't want to stop the contractions either.

This is when I hit my low point of the weekend. I cried. I said, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do." The nurse said, "Let me call your doctor." A few minutes later, she put me on a narcotic, Nubain. I knew from our Lamaze class that the purpose of these narcotics is to calm a panicked woman, provide rest for tired women, and just SLIGHTLY take the edge off the pain. That's exactly what the meds did and it's exactly all I really needed at the time. They kept me another two hours, the only two hours between Thursday and Monday that I managed to get any sleep at all.

When they sent us home at 6pm Sunday, I told Craig I was absolutely NOT returning to the hospital that weekend. I was determined to power through these contractions until my doctor's office opened after the holiday Tuesday morning. I even ate a cheeseburger (I love cheeseburgers).

Well, it was only a few hours before my plans of waiting til Tuesday flew out the window. By 9pm, I was rocking on my hands and knees on the floor and yelling at both God and Craig. (To God, I said, "Why are you doing this to me?" To Craig, I said, "Quit breathing on me.") At 2:30am, Craig said, "Get your bag. I'm taking you to the hospital."

I continued yelling and rocking from the pain in the car. I never thought 7 minutes could last so long. As we pulled into the parking lot, though, I started crying. I said, "I just know I'm only at 2cm. God is trying to kill me."

It didn't help when we walked in through the ER room and the lobby girl looked at me and said, "You don't look big enough to be ready for labor."

Well, I staggered up to the admittance desk, where I continued to cry and rock and Craig did all the talking while several of the nurses said, "I remember you from before." Thank God, this time I was at 5cm! When they asked if I wanted an epidural, I said "yes," and had one in place within 45 minutes. I promptly proceeded to sleep straight through the next 2.5 hours and I continued sleeping throughout most of that "active" labor phase.

Nurses came in throughout the day and at various times had me switch sides and/or put on an oxygen mask. Apparently, Little Bird's heart rate decelerated infrequently and irregularly but often enough that by the time I was fully dilated and felt her head pushing down on me, everyone involved was hesitant to continue with a vaginal delivery. Three nurses plus my doctor checked me and everyone felt her head "right there." Even I, pretty numb from the epidural, could feel her head "right there." They had me push every other contraction while they watched her heart rate and half an hour later, Craig was dressed in sterile clothes and I was spread "crucifixion style" on an operating table.

I threw up during the actual C-section but it only took them 5 minutes to pull her out of me. Craig was swabbing my lips from the nausea when we heard her cries for the first time. I wish I could have spent more time with her after her delivery, but they did let me hold her a few minutes before the nausea returned and they took her and Craig to the nursery. Next thing I knew, I was in a big empty recovery room with one nurse, still vomiting into a pan and trembling uncontrollably all over. That's when my mom showed up and I'd never been so relieved to see her before!

Anyway, we're all doing fine now. Evelyn Grace weighed 6 lbs, 13 oz, and was 19 inches long at delivery. Mom's still here helping out while I try to recover from the surgery. I'm just glad the weekend's over.

Here's our Little Bird at 36 hours of age: