Mommy Ever After » hospital

Materniversary

mommyeverafter — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 01:48:55 +0000

This week marked the one year anniversary of my Maternity Leave.
Or, as I should more appropriately call it, “The day I went to work, had to leave, and never came back.”
You see, like everything else in the Land of Mom, my maternity leave did not go as planned.
I had intended to teach right up until D-Day.
I had grand visions of my water breaking in the middle of circle time,
and my adopted-Jewish-mother of a partner hightailing me to the hospital.
I believed that I’d be spry until the end and go when I was ready.
I was wrong. Oh how wrong I was.
And so, on a normal Wednesday morning when I was 34 and a half weeks pregnant, I got dressed, went to school, sat in my high-backed classroom chair and was drawing crayon pictures with my students who had arrived early when I was hit with a dizzy spell to end all dizzy spells. I literally couldn’t move. I was scared. I was the only adult in the room, so faced with the choice between seeking help in whatever way possible or passing out in front of my four year olds, I chose to ask one of my little girls to go grab the teacher from the room next door. I remained calm on the outside, as my brained raced towards fear.
When I was finally able to stand up, my mom picked me up and we went to the hospital, where I was checked into Labor and Delivery.
Visiting L&D before DDay is a very strange thing.
On one hand, you’re in the place where you know you will be when it is time to meet your baby.
You see the incubator in the corner of the room.
You feel the rough hospital gown with the crazy, confusing buttons against your belly.
It all feels real.
Except, it isn’t. It’s a dress rehearsal.
Which is disconcerting.
I was treated as if I was in labor; hooked up to the fetal heart monitor, an IV and an anaconda of a BP cuff, and was introduced to a woman who would later become instrumental in the birth of my daughter: The infamous MJ. MJ is the nurse to end all nurses. She is tough as nails. She is strong as an ox. And, if I had delivered my daughter the good old fashioned way, there is no one who would have made a better cheerleader and hand holder than my MJ. But, as you know, I did not have a normal birth, nor was MJ in the room with me during my C-Section as she was not on duty during those wee mornings hours, but you better believe that she came to visit me the very next day in my post partum room. That’s just the kind of woman she is. But, she’s just one of the many warrior women I had as nurses when I was at the luxury hotel that some may refer to as the hospital.
Seriously.
I know I’ve said this before, but when I look back on my hospital stay, it is like reminiscing about my honeymoon. Maybe even better. It was one of the best times of my life; blood, guts, gore and all. And those nurses, those devoted, amazing nurses, whom I will never forget: MJ, my captain and champion; Gina, who taught me to breastfeed; Tana, who scratched my back for me, at 5am, when I was able to stand for the very first time since my surgery; Joy, who smacked some sense into me when I refused to let her take out my IV and stop my pain medicine drip; Lisa, my Labor nurse, who, when I told the doctor I needed a C-Section in the 11th hour, told me how smart I was for a first time mom, and that she would hold my hand the entire time. And she did. I will never forget looking into her big brown eyes as the doctors worked on my body in the OR; Ginny who made me smile and pretended to not see my sister as she snuggled up next to me in my hospital bed, long after visiting hours had ended. I’m telling you, I had the dream team.

But. I’ve digressed. Let’s rewind 6 weeks, back to 34, when I was being treated at the hospital for extreme dizziness. Dizziness is not something good for a hugely pregnant woman. Or so they told me. Not only can it be an indicator of some serious health issues, but it is also quite precarious for a small person carrying an unwieldy bowling ball on her midsection.
During my examination, the doctors saw that I was contracting regularly every 5 minutes. However, these contractions were not causing me to dilate, a fact that ultimately came into play, as you may recall, quite seriously during my birth story. So, after hours and tests out the wazoo (pun intended) I was sent home…
on bedrest.
No warning.
No goodbyes.
Just me,
my fetus
and the couch
for six weeks.
And, would you like to know a fact that I now find completely amazing?
I was bored.
Bored.
BORED, I say!
I no longer speak that language.
I actually found it difficult to sit on my be-hind,
watching movies with Zach Effron and eating Drumstick ice cream cones.
What a big, fat difference a year makes.
(Pun far less intended.)
So, yes, last year, this week, I was sitting around all day, in my jammies, watching Daytime TV, eating my body weight in Mommom-delivered-goodies, and anxiously awaiting my little girl. So, yeah. Almost exactly what my life is like today.
Except not.
Not even close.
Hmmmmm….
now that I think about it, I am feeling a tad dizzy. Maybe I need some more of that bedrest…
Maybe I’ll give my old friend MJ a ring.
Because, there’s totally a Chocolate Drumstick calling my name.
Oh well. A girl can dream.
So, Happy Materniversary, all!
Drumsticks for everyone!

The post Materniversary appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

This Thing Called Love

mommyeverafter — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 16:59:58 +0000

Believe it or not, when my daughter was born,
I was, instantly, the calm,
low-key mom that I had dreamed of being.

I didn’t fret when the nurses took her for her routine check-ups.
I did not ask about her weight,
Or temperature,
Or level of cuteness.
Actually, that is a lie.
I did ask about her cuteness,
Meaning,
When anyone new came into the room,
I asked, “Isn’t she the absolute cutest baby you’ve ever seen?”
They all said yes, of course.
That’s because she is.
Anyway,
I was so relaxed that the nurses actually had to come in and remind me to nurse her.

I was so relaxed, that I let my baby sleep in the nursery overnight,
Heeding the recommendations of the hospital staff.
I was so relaxed, that I actually slept,
Until the nurses wheeled the baby back in to my room at 6am,
So that I could feed her.
Oh, and yes, my baby slept through the night in the hospital.
Actually, if I’m being completely honest,
I’m convinced that my baby slept through the night in my belly.
What have I been telling you all this time?
Genius, she is.

I was so relaxed, in fact, that when we got home from the hospital,
I felt perfectly fine about allowing our Doula to help me to take are of the baby,
While I focused on my C-Section recovery.

And then, inexplicably, something changed.
I got scared.

I don’t know when it happened, exactly.
I don’t know why,
But suddenly,
I felt fearful.

Was she breathing?
Was she happy?
Bored?
Lonely?
Hurt?
(oh, let me mention, these were all things that I was worried about when she was not crying.)
Could she be picking up germs?
Was she being exposed to enough germs to help boost her immune system?
Was she eating enough?
Was she gaining too fast?
And then, later,
Too little?
Is this poop normal?
And those were just the things that I didn’t have to worry about.

The first weekend we took the baby to the beach,
I struggled with my fear.
I was scared about,
Well,
Everything.
Should people be holding her?
Should I keep her away from the crowds?
Is it too hot outside?
Has she slept enough?
And then, despite all of my worries,
She got hoarse.
Now, her hoarseness was not something that was perceptible to everyone,
But I heard it.
And, so, I freaked.
She was 6 weeks old,
And I was a wreck.

I don’t think I will ever forget,
That Sunday night,
At the shore,
When my husband, my mom, and I crowded into the small bathroom at the beach house,
Baby in our arms,
As we let the hot water run in the shower until the room got nice and steamed up.
We stayed in that room, so that the baby could breathe in the warm, moist air,
Until the three of us were literally drenched in a mixture of sweat and condensation.
My husband and my mom wear glasses, and their lenses were so fogged up that neither of them could see anything,
But in that room, we stayed.
Of course,
I took the baby to the doctor the next morning, after racing home as early as we could get out the door.
He said that she was fine.
He was not worried.
Yet, for some reason, I still was.

It never stopped.
I would lie awake at night,
And watch her breathe,
As she slept in her nest, in the bed, next to me.
My husband stayed up late one night, and the next morning he informed me that I had gotten up approximately 8 times to check on her, in the span of just a few hours.

What was wrong with me?

Before my daughter was born, my husband and I worked hard creating some original artwork for her nursery. You may have read about the enchanted garden we grew. In addition to the big dugout project, we also took our favorite quotes from songs, and children’s books, and plays, and stenciled them onto painted canvases.

We have everything from “I’ll eat you up, I love you so” from Where the Wild Things Are to “Crazy little thing called love” from the Queen song by that name. We created a space in which my daughter could be embraced by our love, as well as our favorite love-ly sayings.

However, to this date, my daughter has yet to sleep one night in her own room.

It’s not because she doesn’t love being in her nursery.
It’s because I’m scared.

Being a parents is all of the things that all of the people say,
And more.
It’s magical and breathtaking.
And, it’s also scary.

I feel so responsible for this tiny human,
And I can’t seem to shake my fear that I will do something wrong,
Or that something will happen.

Does it make me crazy?
Maybe.
It also makes me a new mom.

But, I am trying.

Right now, my daughter is resting in her nursery.
I am in the room next door,
And I can see and hear her on the monitor,
But I still worry.
I don’t worry about her missing me,
Or being scared,
Or being eaten up by Wild Things.
In fact, at the moment, I don’t know I’m worried about.
But, I do know that I’m trying to breathe,
And stay calm,
And to stop being so nervous.

I guess we were smart when we chose “Crazy little thing called love” to adorn her walls,
Because this kind of love can, in fact, make you a little crazy.
But, if while being a little crazy,
I also get to experience this kind of love,
Then lock me up,
Because this love is crazy amazing.
Insanely rich.
Wildly rewarding.
And true.

So, every day, I’ll continue to work on regaining the sense of calm I had in the early days,
In the hospital,
When everything was so new,
So pure,
And, in many ways, so much simpler.
Less crazy.

And, in the meantime,
I’ll try to
Be Cool
Relax,
Get hip,
and
keep enjoying this crazy little thing
called love.

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