Wednesday, March 7, 2018
Sunday, January 14, 2018
Saturday, January 13, 2018
Saturday, November 7, 2015
My Natural Birth Story. (Long)
I really can't believe I am sitting here on this side of my pregnancy, currently nursing a newborn. Even over a week in, I am not sure if this is real life.
Okay, let's do this. My contractions started at about 1:30 in the afternoon on Sunday, the 25th. They were sharp, but very tolerable. I was able to watch an episode of a new show I had discovered on Netflix before becoming too uncomfortable. About 30 minutes after they started I decided I should probably time them. They were about 3 minutes apart lasting 45 seconds straight out of the gate. I laid in bed for about an hour before deciding to get up and take a shower to see of the contractions would slow or continue. They persisted, still every 3 minutes. My husband decided we should call the on call physician, who told us to go ahead and head to labor and delivery to be on the safe side.
We had our bags packed for weeks. We were prepared for this inevitable trek to the hospital, roughly an hours drive from our home. I got dressed after my shower and we headed down to the car. I have to admit, the contractions in the car were not near as bad as I anticipated they would be. (Everything I had read warned about how bad laboring in a vehicle was.) We even stopped at burger king on the way to pick up a last minute snack. The ladies at the drive through were thoroughly freaked out when they found out I was in active labor. We got our food and hit the road. Little did we know it would be the last time we would take that drive as just a couple.
I want to begin this part by saying that my husband is amazing. Without him, I wouldn't have been near as capable of coping as I was. On the seemingly short drive (time skips when you're focusing on contractions every few minutes) he continued to note the spacing of contractions, chatted with me to keep my mind at ease, and even played some classical music to really mellow the atmosphere. (He knows I love a good orchestral piece.)
We finally arrived at the hospital where, after a brief bit of paperwork, we were whisked away to triage. I was in that bed for all of 2 minutes. The triage nurse stated that when she sees a lady come in breathing through her contractions, she likes to go ahead and check their dilation before hooking them to the monitors, to be safe. So, I got the first of several cervical checks to find that I was dilated to 6-7 cm. My husband and I looked at each other and laughed. We couldn't believe I was actually in active labor. They immediately got me back up and walked me to my room. Along the way, they asked me if I would be getting an epidural. I replied that I would not, if at all possible. So, they stuck me in the "natural" room with the jet tub.
I had brought my own birthing ball, and my husband set about blowing it up and informing the family we were admitted. I sat in the bed on the monitors for a bit, while the nurse tried, and failed, to put in my saline lock twice. Poor girl blew veins in both arms. She gave up and called in another nurse for assistance. Success! I cannot say enough just how much I appreciate my Doctor for agreeing to a saline lock, instead of full IV fluids, and intermittent monitoring, instead of sticking me in bed. I was able to labor walking around, sat in the tub (for all of 30 minutes), and bounce on my birth ball.
Some family came by for a visit after a while, and my best friend sat with us in the room watching Hocus pocus as I continued to labor. Hours passed and cervical checks revealed no change. I began to stall out. My doctor called to check on our progress and offered to break my waters. I declined, since I was unsure how long my labor would be at that point. We finally laid down to try to rest a bit. My contractions had slowed significantly, though they were still as sharp. I slept off and on between them. Between the contractions and nurses checking me, I got very little sleep. It was enough to help me power through what was to come, though.
My doctor came in a little before 8 and after some discussion, we decided to try to break my waters to see if it would jump-start my labor again. By 8 my membranes were ruptured and about 15 minutes later I had my first contraction. They started out again as if they had never slowed at all. My dad came in and sat with me as my husband took a brief break to snack and refresh himself. When he came back, my labor began picking up dramatically. He helped me out of bed and back onto the ball. I was put back on the monitors for a bit as I swayed back and forth, bouncing slightly. I was handling well, so I knew I couldn't yet in the thick of it.
My husband left the room once more, to get me a cup of water. In that brief moment he was gone, I was hit with the most intense contraction I had had yet. I panicked. It was painful and I was alone. It caught me completely off guard and I coped with it very poorly. My husband came back as it was waning. He could see this one had been more intense. I looked at him, still panicked, and asked him not to leave again. He helped me get through the next ones by applying counter pressure to my lower back.
All too soon, the contractions began stacking up on top of one another. I couldn't sit on the ball anymore and I couldn't find any comfortable positions, so I ended up sitting on the edge of the bed between contractions and standing grasping my husband's shoulders and rocking my hips side to side. He was sitting in front of me on a small stool and asked if he should stand with me. I asked him to sit, as it felt better to lean over him slightly to rock. I buried my face in his shoulder with every wave of pain. Then, I would sit back on the bed for a few seconds rest before bounding right back up for another contraction. Some of them would peak twice and I'd get no rest. This was the hardest part, I think.
Somewhere in this cycle of sitting and standing/rocking, I managed to get in bed for what would be my last official cervical check. The nurse said I was an 8, maybe a 9. I got back up for more contractions. About 5 minutes later, at least that's what it felt like - time being a bit fuzzy and all, I started not being able to sit down during the "breaks". I began getting very grunty and I realized my body was beginning to bear down on its own.
I told my nurse, who had remained in the room to prep for the delivery, that I felt pushy and didn't know if I could keep from doing it. She said if I could breathe through them, she'd check me again. I couldn't even imagine getting back in the bed for that, so she said she'd attempt to see if I was complete while I stood. She never announced what she felt when she checked, but I'm assuming it was the baby's head and not my cervix, because she called for my doctor to go ahead and come and for the other nurse to assist in delivery.
I began bearing down with every contraction at this point. There was no way I could stop doing it, and I just tried to go with it. My doctor arrived and suited up, happily saying something about it taking way less time than she anticipated for me to get to this point. All I could do between contractions now was breathe, still clutching my amazing saint of a husband, who was like a rock for me. He never moved away, never complained as I began rocking forward and digging my knees into his for leverage. It all felt so out of control, yet my body was just doing what it needed. My mind was miles away, but he somehow brought me back just when I thought I had lost all focus. I remember, vaguely, saying I couldn't do it. (And cursing a bit.) He kept me going, telling me that I was doing it. I didn't always hear what he was saying, but his voice was what pulled me back in every time. Later, he would tell me he felt so great that I used him for literal support. That he wasn't sure how he'd be useful, but he was so needed. I wouldn't have had near the stamina or drive to push on without his encouraging voice and him looking me in the eyes, as he physically supported me so I could squat with pushes.
There was a nameless, faceless nurse behind me. Not the one who had been with me. She was telling me go rock back deeper and push through various sensations. I don't know who she was, but she was a God send. She applied a warm compress to my perineum and told me to keep surging forward through the pressure and pain. She had asked me before if I wanted to sit on the birth stool, and at the time I was intimidated by all the pressure and declined. Sitting sounded horrible. However, at this point, my legs were shaking terribly and I came to the logical conclusion that to keep going I needed to get off my legs. I asked for the stool. She immediately put it under me and after the next contraction, my husband lowered me back onto it. I felt so much better for that moment. I had only a moment's rest, in which I rather hastily threw off all my gowns exclaiming how suffocating they were. With the next contraction, I pushed again. I couldn't stop pushing. She told me to push through the stinging, I did. I pushed 3 times during that contraction. I felt a pressure and intensity that is indescribable. Then, I heard my doctor tell my husband, who was still holding my hand from somewhere in front of me, that the head was out. I pushed once more and I felt her body slide out. She was born at 10:48 am. It was as if I had instant relief. There was still pain, to be sure, I had torn. I knew it. But, my little love was now being handed to me, all covered in vernix and fluid. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I just kept looking back and forth between her face and my husband's, completely in shock about what had just happened. He was in tears, but grinning ear to ear. All he could manage to say was, "you did it."
The doctor asked him to cut the cord once it had stopped pulsing. I remember it being a beautiful spiraled thing. Our little one was now a separate human being. She never cried, just stared at me. A nurse took her momentarily and the other nurse, and my husband, helped me into the bed to deliver the placenta. The doctor asked if I wanted to see it, I said I did, so she gave us the "tour" of our little one's home for the last 9 months. Then, she assessed the damage.
All in all, I got away with a 2nd degree tear, requiring several stitches, but I had a gorgeous baby to look at. It evens out. My husband and I sat in complete amazement, looking down at our tiny creation. After a while, my husband got antsy to do that new father rite of passage and burst in to the waiting room to announce the birth. He came back a bit later, bringing with him the news of everyone's reactions. We sat as a new family for some time while the doctor finished her work and after congratulations and many thanks for attending, excused herself back to her usual clinic day. The nurse observed patiently from the corner and never rushed our time together, only offering that she would help me clean up and get baby worked up and weighed when I was ready. After about an hour and a half, maybe, I decided to let her have the baby. My husband went to the baby's side and relayed everything that was going on, even though I could see, since everything was taking place just feet away. Our darling daughter cried out for the first time, and we both burst into tears with her. They weighed her at 6lbs, 10oz and she was 19in long.
We let our family come in to see her for a bit, everyone taking a cuddle before passing her back. I am forever grateful for their patience and understanding after sitting out in that uncomfortable waiting room all night. I received nothing but love and support from all, and I can't thank them enough for it.
I got the birth I had wanted. I had one intervention, relatively minor in the scheme of things, my membranes had to be ruptured artificially. I'm perfectly fine with it. I managed an entire 21 hours, start to finish, with no epidural and no pharmaceutical pain relief. (My husband still tells everyone who will listen all about it. I think he's prouder of this accomplishment than even I am.) I vaguely remember chatting between the doctor and nurses about how awesome it was to watch my husband and I work together during labor. My doctor called us her power couple. There may have even been a joke thrown in about how if every husband were as involved and supportive as mine, doulas would be out of a job. He was my doula. I needed him, more than anything else. He was there for everything else, and was my everything through labor and delivery. Now, we are a happy family of three and a cat and are enjoying every second with each other and our little love.
(Disclaimer: not knocking doulas, as we had seriously considered hiring one, but I felt like I just wanted him there. I couldn't justify spending the money to have an almost stranger in the room, when I would've been the most comfortable with just my husband. My doctor was even on board with hiring a doula, saying she felt it made her job easier. I'm glad I chose the path I did. Doulas do great work, and are worth every penny for those who need their support. I am just blessed to have the awesome husband that I do.)
We had our bags packed for weeks. We were prepared for this inevitable trek to the hospital, roughly an hours drive from our home. I got dressed after my shower and we headed down to the car. I have to admit, the contractions in the car were not near as bad as I anticipated they would be. (Everything I had read warned about how bad laboring in a vehicle was.) We even stopped at burger king on the way to pick up a last minute snack. The ladies at the drive through were thoroughly freaked out when they found out I was in active labor. We got our food and hit the road. Little did we know it would be the last time we would take that drive as just a couple.
I want to begin this part by saying that my husband is amazing. Without him, I wouldn't have been near as capable of coping as I was. On the seemingly short drive (time skips when you're focusing on contractions every few minutes) he continued to note the spacing of contractions, chatted with me to keep my mind at ease, and even played some classical music to really mellow the atmosphere. (He knows I love a good orchestral piece.)
We finally arrived at the hospital where, after a brief bit of paperwork, we were whisked away to triage. I was in that bed for all of 2 minutes. The triage nurse stated that when she sees a lady come in breathing through her contractions, she likes to go ahead and check their dilation before hooking them to the monitors, to be safe. So, I got the first of several cervical checks to find that I was dilated to 6-7 cm. My husband and I looked at each other and laughed. We couldn't believe I was actually in active labor. They immediately got me back up and walked me to my room. Along the way, they asked me if I would be getting an epidural. I replied that I would not, if at all possible. So, they stuck me in the "natural" room with the jet tub.
I had brought my own birthing ball, and my husband set about blowing it up and informing the family we were admitted. I sat in the bed on the monitors for a bit, while the nurse tried, and failed, to put in my saline lock twice. Poor girl blew veins in both arms. She gave up and called in another nurse for assistance. Success! I cannot say enough just how much I appreciate my Doctor for agreeing to a saline lock, instead of full IV fluids, and intermittent monitoring, instead of sticking me in bed. I was able to labor walking around, sat in the tub (for all of 30 minutes), and bounce on my birth ball.
Some family came by for a visit after a while, and my best friend sat with us in the room watching Hocus pocus as I continued to labor. Hours passed and cervical checks revealed no change. I began to stall out. My doctor called to check on our progress and offered to break my waters. I declined, since I was unsure how long my labor would be at that point. We finally laid down to try to rest a bit. My contractions had slowed significantly, though they were still as sharp. I slept off and on between them. Between the contractions and nurses checking me, I got very little sleep. It was enough to help me power through what was to come, though.
My doctor came in a little before 8 and after some discussion, we decided to try to break my waters to see if it would jump-start my labor again. By 8 my membranes were ruptured and about 15 minutes later I had my first contraction. They started out again as if they had never slowed at all. My dad came in and sat with me as my husband took a brief break to snack and refresh himself. When he came back, my labor began picking up dramatically. He helped me out of bed and back onto the ball. I was put back on the monitors for a bit as I swayed back and forth, bouncing slightly. I was handling well, so I knew I couldn't yet in the thick of it.
My husband left the room once more, to get me a cup of water. In that brief moment he was gone, I was hit with the most intense contraction I had had yet. I panicked. It was painful and I was alone. It caught me completely off guard and I coped with it very poorly. My husband came back as it was waning. He could see this one had been more intense. I looked at him, still panicked, and asked him not to leave again. He helped me get through the next ones by applying counter pressure to my lower back.
All too soon, the contractions began stacking up on top of one another. I couldn't sit on the ball anymore and I couldn't find any comfortable positions, so I ended up sitting on the edge of the bed between contractions and standing grasping my husband's shoulders and rocking my hips side to side. He was sitting in front of me on a small stool and asked if he should stand with me. I asked him to sit, as it felt better to lean over him slightly to rock. I buried my face in his shoulder with every wave of pain. Then, I would sit back on the bed for a few seconds rest before bounding right back up for another contraction. Some of them would peak twice and I'd get no rest. This was the hardest part, I think.
Somewhere in this cycle of sitting and standing/rocking, I managed to get in bed for what would be my last official cervical check. The nurse said I was an 8, maybe a 9. I got back up for more contractions. About 5 minutes later, at least that's what it felt like - time being a bit fuzzy and all, I started not being able to sit down during the "breaks". I began getting very grunty and I realized my body was beginning to bear down on its own.
I told my nurse, who had remained in the room to prep for the delivery, that I felt pushy and didn't know if I could keep from doing it. She said if I could breathe through them, she'd check me again. I couldn't even imagine getting back in the bed for that, so she said she'd attempt to see if I was complete while I stood. She never announced what she felt when she checked, but I'm assuming it was the baby's head and not my cervix, because she called for my doctor to go ahead and come and for the other nurse to assist in delivery.
I began bearing down with every contraction at this point. There was no way I could stop doing it, and I just tried to go with it. My doctor arrived and suited up, happily saying something about it taking way less time than she anticipated for me to get to this point. All I could do between contractions now was breathe, still clutching my amazing saint of a husband, who was like a rock for me. He never moved away, never complained as I began rocking forward and digging my knees into his for leverage. It all felt so out of control, yet my body was just doing what it needed. My mind was miles away, but he somehow brought me back just when I thought I had lost all focus. I remember, vaguely, saying I couldn't do it. (And cursing a bit.) He kept me going, telling me that I was doing it. I didn't always hear what he was saying, but his voice was what pulled me back in every time. Later, he would tell me he felt so great that I used him for literal support. That he wasn't sure how he'd be useful, but he was so needed. I wouldn't have had near the stamina or drive to push on without his encouraging voice and him looking me in the eyes, as he physically supported me so I could squat with pushes.
There was a nameless, faceless nurse behind me. Not the one who had been with me. She was telling me go rock back deeper and push through various sensations. I don't know who she was, but she was a God send. She applied a warm compress to my perineum and told me to keep surging forward through the pressure and pain. She had asked me before if I wanted to sit on the birth stool, and at the time I was intimidated by all the pressure and declined. Sitting sounded horrible. However, at this point, my legs were shaking terribly and I came to the logical conclusion that to keep going I needed to get off my legs. I asked for the stool. She immediately put it under me and after the next contraction, my husband lowered me back onto it. I felt so much better for that moment. I had only a moment's rest, in which I rather hastily threw off all my gowns exclaiming how suffocating they were. With the next contraction, I pushed again. I couldn't stop pushing. She told me to push through the stinging, I did. I pushed 3 times during that contraction. I felt a pressure and intensity that is indescribable. Then, I heard my doctor tell my husband, who was still holding my hand from somewhere in front of me, that the head was out. I pushed once more and I felt her body slide out. She was born at 10:48 am. It was as if I had instant relief. There was still pain, to be sure, I had torn. I knew it. But, my little love was now being handed to me, all covered in vernix and fluid. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I just kept looking back and forth between her face and my husband's, completely in shock about what had just happened. He was in tears, but grinning ear to ear. All he could manage to say was, "you did it."
The doctor asked him to cut the cord once it had stopped pulsing. I remember it being a beautiful spiraled thing. Our little one was now a separate human being. She never cried, just stared at me. A nurse took her momentarily and the other nurse, and my husband, helped me into the bed to deliver the placenta. The doctor asked if I wanted to see it, I said I did, so she gave us the "tour" of our little one's home for the last 9 months. Then, she assessed the damage.
All in all, I got away with a 2nd degree tear, requiring several stitches, but I had a gorgeous baby to look at. It evens out. My husband and I sat in complete amazement, looking down at our tiny creation. After a while, my husband got antsy to do that new father rite of passage and burst in to the waiting room to announce the birth. He came back a bit later, bringing with him the news of everyone's reactions. We sat as a new family for some time while the doctor finished her work and after congratulations and many thanks for attending, excused herself back to her usual clinic day. The nurse observed patiently from the corner and never rushed our time together, only offering that she would help me clean up and get baby worked up and weighed when I was ready. After about an hour and a half, maybe, I decided to let her have the baby. My husband went to the baby's side and relayed everything that was going on, even though I could see, since everything was taking place just feet away. Our darling daughter cried out for the first time, and we both burst into tears with her. They weighed her at 6lbs, 10oz and she was 19in long.
We let our family come in to see her for a bit, everyone taking a cuddle before passing her back. I am forever grateful for their patience and understanding after sitting out in that uncomfortable waiting room all night. I received nothing but love and support from all, and I can't thank them enough for it.
I got the birth I had wanted. I had one intervention, relatively minor in the scheme of things, my membranes had to be ruptured artificially. I'm perfectly fine with it. I managed an entire 21 hours, start to finish, with no epidural and no pharmaceutical pain relief. (My husband still tells everyone who will listen all about it. I think he's prouder of this accomplishment than even I am.) I vaguely remember chatting between the doctor and nurses about how awesome it was to watch my husband and I work together during labor. My doctor called us her power couple. There may have even been a joke thrown in about how if every husband were as involved and supportive as mine, doulas would be out of a job. He was my doula. I needed him, more than anything else. He was there for everything else, and was my everything through labor and delivery. Now, we are a happy family of three and a cat and are enjoying every second with each other and our little love.
(Disclaimer: not knocking doulas, as we had seriously considered hiring one, but I felt like I just wanted him there. I couldn't justify spending the money to have an almost stranger in the room, when I would've been the most comfortable with just my husband. My doctor was even on board with hiring a doula, saying she felt it made her job easier. I'm glad I chose the path I did. Doulas do great work, and are worth every penny for those who need their support. I am just blessed to have the awesome husband that I do.)
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Update! It's a long one...
It's been a long time since I have updated this blog. Well, surprise! I have gone through an entire pregnancy and given birth since then. Whoops. I can fill in the deets for you now that it's all a little less hectic.
I found out I was expecting my little one on March 5th, a Thursday. I had taken the day off work to spend time with my husband on his day off. The night before a huge system had blown through, dumping about a foot of snow on the ground, uncharacteristic for March here in the South. So, we were snowed in, and had all day to spend together.
At around 8 that morning, I woke to do my usual bathroom trip. For days up to this point I had been experiencing what I can only describe as these weird, intermittent, pinchy cramps. I took it as a weird start to aunt flo, but she had yet to arrive. (I should say here that I have always had long and irregular cycles, so I didn't actually expect that I was pregnant.) As it was steadily approaching day 60 of my cycle, I decided to waste a dollar store cheapie and test. I had always gotten negatives in the past, so I was anticipating the same on this day. I was in for a shock.
I busied myself with tidying the bathroom counter while I waited for the test to tell me what I was sure I already knew. A few minutes passed and I casually glanced at the test, already having the trash can open go toss the sure to be negative. Two lines. WHAT?! But, two line were not negative. I thought to myself that surely I had managed to get that mythical false positive. So, I tore open another test. I'm shaking and fighting the cat out of the bathroom as wait for my fate. Two lines again. Okay, well two tests can't lie. I'm pregnant...
I had to tell my husband. As it was quite early, my husband was still sleeping. I contemplated letting him wake on his own only briefly before I tore into the bedroom and rather loudly rummaged through my closet looking for the small gift I had stashed there almost a year before. I found it, and turned to wake my husband. In my mind I was gently waking him, asking him sweetly to open the gift I had for him. In reality, I was shaking and, in his words, I looked as if I had murdered someone and was shoving a box, possibly containing a body part, at his chest. He tentatively opened the box and pulled back the paper inside, revealing two small onesies with two of his favorite bands on them. (For the curious: Pearl Jam and the Mighty Mighty Bosstones.) In his sleepy state, it took him several confused seconds to realize what I was trying to communicate with the small pieces of fabric he held.
"Is this? Are you?..." Yes. Yes. We collapsed into a hug crying together, both from happiness and shock. We then spent the entire day enjoying the snow and lazing about on our puffy little cloud of excitement.
I estimated that was only about 2 weeks post ovulation (charting symptoms, but not temperature). Fast forward a little over a month, and my doctor would confirm my date estimation within 3 days.
Pregnancy was pretty agreeable with me. I had morning sickness starting around 5-6 weeks. It was mild-ish, but I had just begun a new day job, so was miserable nonetheless. I had mild fatigue, almost no appetite (except cereal), and some mildly tender breasts. It was just, as my OB said, a textbook case of pregnancy.
Second trimester saw me into a slightly different experience. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, but my doctor wanted to see if I could control it with diet. I managed. My blood sugar levels were excellent. I cut out sodas, candy, pasta (which made me sick anyway) and most other sweets. I never took one pill for my blood sugar during my entire pregnancy. I had managed to work myself back into the low risk category. We also had our anatomy scan at 19 weeks, revealing that we were having a girl! We were so excited!
Third trimester saw little change in anything. I was still controlling my gestational diabetes with diet and had finally managed to gain back most of the weight I had lost in the first trimester. I ended up with a net weight gain of 0 lbs. My doctor said that was impressive, especially considering the diabetes. She also joked that in my chart was specifically written "rock star".
My pregnancy came to a blissful end at 37 weeks, 6 days when I gave birth to our amazing little daughter. It was the perfect close to a perfect journey.
Over the next few weeks, I intend to update more about what has gone on. "Stay tuned" for my full birth story, why I chose and loved my OB, and newb parenting 101 stories.
I found out I was expecting my little one on March 5th, a Thursday. I had taken the day off work to spend time with my husband on his day off. The night before a huge system had blown through, dumping about a foot of snow on the ground, uncharacteristic for March here in the South. So, we were snowed in, and had all day to spend together.
At around 8 that morning, I woke to do my usual bathroom trip. For days up to this point I had been experiencing what I can only describe as these weird, intermittent, pinchy cramps. I took it as a weird start to aunt flo, but she had yet to arrive. (I should say here that I have always had long and irregular cycles, so I didn't actually expect that I was pregnant.) As it was steadily approaching day 60 of my cycle, I decided to waste a dollar store cheapie and test. I had always gotten negatives in the past, so I was anticipating the same on this day. I was in for a shock.
I busied myself with tidying the bathroom counter while I waited for the test to tell me what I was sure I already knew. A few minutes passed and I casually glanced at the test, already having the trash can open go toss the sure to be negative. Two lines. WHAT?! But, two line were not negative. I thought to myself that surely I had managed to get that mythical false positive. So, I tore open another test. I'm shaking and fighting the cat out of the bathroom as wait for my fate. Two lines again. Okay, well two tests can't lie. I'm pregnant...
I had to tell my husband. As it was quite early, my husband was still sleeping. I contemplated letting him wake on his own only briefly before I tore into the bedroom and rather loudly rummaged through my closet looking for the small gift I had stashed there almost a year before. I found it, and turned to wake my husband. In my mind I was gently waking him, asking him sweetly to open the gift I had for him. In reality, I was shaking and, in his words, I looked as if I had murdered someone and was shoving a box, possibly containing a body part, at his chest. He tentatively opened the box and pulled back the paper inside, revealing two small onesies with two of his favorite bands on them. (For the curious: Pearl Jam and the Mighty Mighty Bosstones.) In his sleepy state, it took him several confused seconds to realize what I was trying to communicate with the small pieces of fabric he held.
"Is this? Are you?..." Yes. Yes. We collapsed into a hug crying together, both from happiness and shock. We then spent the entire day enjoying the snow and lazing about on our puffy little cloud of excitement.
I estimated that was only about 2 weeks post ovulation (charting symptoms, but not temperature). Fast forward a little over a month, and my doctor would confirm my date estimation within 3 days.
Pregnancy was pretty agreeable with me. I had morning sickness starting around 5-6 weeks. It was mild-ish, but I had just begun a new day job, so was miserable nonetheless. I had mild fatigue, almost no appetite (except cereal), and some mildly tender breasts. It was just, as my OB said, a textbook case of pregnancy.
Second trimester saw me into a slightly different experience. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, but my doctor wanted to see if I could control it with diet. I managed. My blood sugar levels were excellent. I cut out sodas, candy, pasta (which made me sick anyway) and most other sweets. I never took one pill for my blood sugar during my entire pregnancy. I had managed to work myself back into the low risk category. We also had our anatomy scan at 19 weeks, revealing that we were having a girl! We were so excited!
Third trimester saw little change in anything. I was still controlling my gestational diabetes with diet and had finally managed to gain back most of the weight I had lost in the first trimester. I ended up with a net weight gain of 0 lbs. My doctor said that was impressive, especially considering the diabetes. She also joked that in my chart was specifically written "rock star".
My pregnancy came to a blissful end at 37 weeks, 6 days when I gave birth to our amazing little daughter. It was the perfect close to a perfect journey.
Over the next few weeks, I intend to update more about what has gone on. "Stay tuned" for my full birth story, why I chose and loved my OB, and newb parenting 101 stories.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
My Carry On Bag, and Lessons Learned the Hard Way.
We are now just days away from our vacation and I am currently packing.
I decided this year to use my backpack for my carry on, instead of the (almost useless) messenger bag that I carried last year. The bag that I have is from the brand, Outdoor, from Walmart... I know, I know. It is a 25L backpack with zippered compartments and loads of organizational space on the inside. It really is the perfect bag for the traveler (or student, I suppose) on a budget. I spent around 25 dollars on it. (Link: http://www.walmart.com/ip/Outdoor-Products-221690/19487034)
For the record, my husband also carries this bag. Only, his is red... cause, we can't be that couple... only we are. The straps are plenty comfortable for his broader shoulders. He really likes it, so much so that he convinced me to get it, too.
Here is a picture of the bag, for those who can't be bothered to go about just clicking every link you find (probably smart, if I'm honest):
I decided this year to use my backpack for my carry on, instead of the (almost useless) messenger bag that I carried last year. The bag that I have is from the brand, Outdoor, from Walmart... I know, I know. It is a 25L backpack with zippered compartments and loads of organizational space on the inside. It really is the perfect bag for the traveler (or student, I suppose) on a budget. I spent around 25 dollars on it. (Link: http://www.walmart.com/ip/Outdoor-Products-221690/19487034)
For the record, my husband also carries this bag. Only, his is red... cause, we can't be that couple... only we are. The straps are plenty comfortable for his broader shoulders. He really likes it, so much so that he convinced me to get it, too.
Here is a picture of the bag, for those who can't be bothered to go about just clicking every link you find (probably smart, if I'm honest):
The bag has 3 main zippered compartments. The front one has several organizational implements which range from pen holders, to a zipper mesh pocket, to a larger pocket. It keeps all your little essential right up front and organized for easy access. The second compartment is just one large compartment. Perfect for magazines, umbrellas, and snacks. The last and largest compartment is separated in two by a piece of fabric. This back pocket is plenty large enough to fit my 17in laptop (though I don't use it for that) or a change of clothing. This is also where I keep my neck pillow, electronics and other valuables.
It holds a ton of stuff, too! Not that I recommend bringing every possession you have, it will carry everything you need... and then some. I mean, I probably could bring the kitchen sink...
Okay, so what exactly do I put in it, you ask? Good question, my friend. I'll post a video detailing what goes in and how I pack it up in the next post. So, stay tuned! (There will also be a separate post for my checked luggage.)
And for those curious about the old, obsolete, and nearly useless bag...
It is a Dakine Olive 15L messenger bag.
This is not the exact bag, as the print on mine is different... but this is the same style:
The bag itself is very well made and on the smallish side, at 15L. However, the soft sides means you can squish in just about anything you want. The biggest problem with this bag is that there is no organizational qualities to it at all. The bag is just an open bag, with a small zippered pocket on the back wall inside. I fit a lot into it, but it was kind of a clusterf*ck in there. I spent more time rummaging through to find what I wanted than actually using the item I had fished out. NEVER AGAIN. I still love this bag, just not for travel.
Its second downfall is that there is little security to it. When I say little, I mean there is no security at all. The flap comes over and snap with a magnetic closure, then is just open. There NEEDS to be a zipper on the top of the opening. Every time I poked the bag under the airplane seat, something inevitably rolled out. It was infuriating. Not to mention the constant worry I had as we set off from Heathrow to our hotel that someone was just going to poke their hand in and take as they pleased. Not a smart choice on my part.
I have to say here, I prefer the messenger bag style to a backpack. Especially since you can more easily monitor the bag since it is usually slung around the front of your body. However, the practicality won out for the backpack this year and I am hoping it will be the best switch I could have made.
-Wormy
Sunday, September 14, 2014
"The Perfect Bun": A Review.
I have to admit that my reason for walking into my local big-box store was to buy one of those goofy mesh hair rolls to replicate a sock bun. You know, the ones that look like a doughnut, that you pull to the end of your pony tail and roll down to create the bun. "But, Wormy, why did you not just use a rolled sock to create the look you wanted?!" Blame my husband. He doesn't wear crew socks, and I'm not ruining a good pair of my trouser socks for the sake of a bun.
Up until now, I have lusted after this beautiful hairstyle. It was seemingly only achievable to ballerinas and fashionistas. Now that my hair is long enough, I have tried to replicate it without the use of a tool. I have tried twists that leave my hair in a conical spiral or flat on my head. I have tried folding the hair and wrapping an elastic around the gathered mess. I have even tried my hand at using bobby pins to make it work. Every method and experiment left me more disappointed than the last, and even when I came close, I could never achieve the look I wanted.
Alas, I gave up on trying to do it without one of these mysterious doughnut things. The only problem was that I couldn't find one. Just my luck, I finally go to get one and no one carries them anymore. Whilst in my search for anything even remotely like a "sock bun" thing, I found a product called "The Perfect Bun". It is made by Remington and I found it hiding just above my line of sight (I'm a shorty.) at the top of the shelf. I was skeptical, but for just under 5 dollars, I was willing to try it. Its not a doughnut, or even bun shaped at all. Its a long flat-ish thing with soft roller type foam and a bendable wire core. The instructions on the back make the whole ordeal of creating the bun look effortless.
Well, it is. In less than 5 minutes, really more like 2, I had a decent bun. Here's a pictoral play-by-play:
The Box:
The Step-By-Step:
This thing WORKS! I love the fullness of the bun and the almost perfect shape of it. Best of all, it was so easy! I would highly recommend this product to anyone searching for the perfect bun tool.
-Wormy
Up until now, I have lusted after this beautiful hairstyle. It was seemingly only achievable to ballerinas and fashionistas. Now that my hair is long enough, I have tried to replicate it without the use of a tool. I have tried twists that leave my hair in a conical spiral or flat on my head. I have tried folding the hair and wrapping an elastic around the gathered mess. I have even tried my hand at using bobby pins to make it work. Every method and experiment left me more disappointed than the last, and even when I came close, I could never achieve the look I wanted.
Alas, I gave up on trying to do it without one of these mysterious doughnut things. The only problem was that I couldn't find one. Just my luck, I finally go to get one and no one carries them anymore. Whilst in my search for anything even remotely like a "sock bun" thing, I found a product called "The Perfect Bun". It is made by Remington and I found it hiding just above my line of sight (I'm a shorty.) at the top of the shelf. I was skeptical, but for just under 5 dollars, I was willing to try it. Its not a doughnut, or even bun shaped at all. Its a long flat-ish thing with soft roller type foam and a bendable wire core. The instructions on the back make the whole ordeal of creating the bun look effortless.
Well, it is. In less than 5 minutes, really more like 2, I had a decent bun. Here's a pictoral play-by-play:
The Box:
- Put hair into ponytail.
 |
| A stronger elastic works better. (I had to replace this one half way through the tutorial.) |
 |
- Pick up Perfect Bun and open up the inside large enough to fit your finger and thumb.
 |
 |
| Please refrain from referring to it as a maxi pad...like my husband did when he was taking the photos. :/ |
- Insert your finger and thumb into the opening (*ahem) and pull hair through the hole about halfway.
- Begin to roll the hair forward (towards the front of your head) around the Perfect Bun. Continue rolling until you stop at the base of the ponytail.
- Wrap the ends back around the ponytail base and bend into shape.
- Begin carefully spreading the hair evenly around the Perfect Bun ring, making sure to cover the overlapping in the back.
- You're all done! If you need to, spray down any fly-aways with hairspray. (Note: If your hair is shorter or has lots of layers, like mine, a bobby pin or two may help keep shorter layers from coming loose and sticking out. However, I needed no bobby pins.)
-Wormy
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