My Name Is Jonah

Hello! My name is Jonah, and I'm hijacking Mom's blog. Much like I've hijacked her life. That's right. Mom had no idea what was coming when I entered the world barely a week ago. And since she's still reeling from that experience, I thought I'd take over, at least temporarily, the sharing of our story...

Me, brand spankin' new.

So how did I enter the world?

Well, it all started with a little act of rebellion on my part. Last Wednesday night, Mom was lying in bed performing what she calls a "kick count" to make sure I was still moving about healthily. Since I was quiet and she wanted to spur me on a bit, Mom made a quick, light slap to her belly. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. But, as it happens, on that particular evening, I was in no mood to humor to my mother. (I suppose the fact that my quarters were becoming quite cramped may have left me feeling bilious.) In response to her touch, I swung a wide leg and kicked as hard as I could. Pop! Turns out my kick broke the bag of waters in which I'd been living these past nine months. And that put a clock on my debut. Bag of waters broken, I had 24 hours to get out.

It didn't take Mom long to figure out she was in labor. Within mere moments of that kick, in fact, she was feeling contractions in 3-5 minute intervals.  (For those of you who don't know, that's quick.)  Mom (between contractions) called the doula, Dad finished packing up the hospital bag, and, after laboring for just a few hours at home, everyone headed out to the hospital.

4 centimeters dilated.
100% effaced.

The nurses and midwife agreed I was well on my way.  Mom settled quickly into a delivery room, where for the next six or so hours we progressed toward full dilation.   It wasn't easy on Mom, who felt pretty sorry for having skipped her nap on (what was now) the previous day, but she pulled through each contraction like a champ.  Months of Bradley Method classes paid off as she used deep breathing exercises and a variety of labor positions to take the edge off the pain and let the contractions do their work of moving me into position.

And then, all of the sudden, Mom needed to push.

"This is why they call it 'labor'," was how one of the nurses put it.  And, when Mom later recalled learning that giving birth is the caloric equivalent of running of marathon, this is the part of the birth to which that thought most seemed to refer.  Mom pushed and pushed for over two hours in the hopes of seeing my little face for the first time.  It was the hardest thing she's ever done, she'll tell you.  But--if you'll excuse the cliche--also the most rewarding.

Shortly after noon on August 2nd, I found myself finally in my loving Mom's arms.  I think we were all in disbelief for a while after that. And maybe we still are.

Mom and me snuggling when I'm just a couple
hours old.  Don't tell her I posted this
one; she's not thrilled with her post-birth look.

I have to confess that my new presence in Mom's (and Dad's) life has been pretty all-consuming.  Fortunately for her (and me), though, I'm a real treasure, so she just can't seem to get enough.  Everything about me delights her, from my angelic sleeping face to my satisfied, post-meal burps.

My onesie's not lying when it says I'm a "cutie".

I'm sure Mom will be back online soon, posting updates about my progress and our new life as a family.  I know she already has a few stories she's looking forward to sharing; these first few days of life have been pretty exciting!  But for the moment, I think I'll give her a little chance to catch up on sleep and/or just stare love-struck into my eyes.  Nothing beats that.  And I think we both deserve as much of it as we can get.

Waiting

The theme this week is vigilance.

These days, for instance, each new symptom (and even some old ones) seems to merit an internet search.  Feeling unusually tired?  I had better Google it because it might be a sign that labor is on its way.  And those occasional cramps?  Baby's just gotta be coming soon, the whole Web seems to agree.  Dreaming about Baby's arrival?  According to one website or another, I just might be in labor by morning.  Hmm, and why is Khan being so quiet and attentive today?  Maybe he knows something I don't.  In short, every sign needs to be checked and double-checked.  Otherwise, all I can do is wait, which, frankly, I feel I've been doing long enough already.

As I mentioned in my last post, my discomforts have been increasing this week.  Braxton Hicks seem to be occurring more and more frequently (though, honestly, I still sometimes have difficulty telling the difference between contractions and Archie's flexing, which can feel to me a bit like abdominal tightening, too).  Sleep is becoming increasingly elusive, as late night bathroom trips become increasingly frequent and the pressure under my ribs becomes decreasingly bearable.  Of course, that also means that I'm more and more easily tired over the course of the day.  Most days, just a few chores and trips to the grocery store can leave me reeling for a nap.  A few mornings--especially those following a late night and marred by atypically plentiful disturbances--just waking up and eating breakfast are all it takes before I feel the need to curl back up in bed.

That said, I still can't complain too much.  At this point, most of my desire to get this baby out is still simply a matter of wanting to finally meet the little person.  We're so close.  We know it's going to happen one of these days.  Why can't it be sooner than later?

Well, for now I'm still playing the waiting game, so I think I'll go restock my energy supplies with a little yoghurt lunch.  Hmm.  Mild hunger.  Could it be a sign that labor is around the corner?  I had better Google it...

38 Weeks

Well, it's happened.  Thirty-eight weeks, and I am now uncomfortable decidedly more often than I am comfortable.  Goodbye, sleep.  As of this week, the real countdown to "Hello, Baby" begins.  :-)

Who knew?

Having a baby means lots of appointments.  Lots and lots of appointments.

For instance, between now and next Saturday (that is, six days from now), Bryan and I have scheduled:

• an interview with a pediatric practice,
• our weekly Bradley Method class,
• a prenatal checkup,
• an ultrasound,
• a fetal non-stress test,
• a meeting with our backup doula, and
• a newborn care class.

We're also thinking of adding a tour of the hospital, since the midwives only offer their meet-and-greet tour once a month and Bryan hasn't attended one yet.

All this, and Bryan still has to go to work everyday, and I'm beginning, among other things, to pack for our move, which will begin at the end of the month.  Good grief.  And we don't even have an actual infant yet.  I guess we can consider this some intensive time management training to better prepare us for a crazy "new parents" schedule!

What (the h*ll) is that buzzing??

Me, at 17 weeks, admiring my growing baby bump

One of the great pleasures of pregnancy is the almost daily discovery of new and exciting symptoms.

Of course, some of them are old classics.  Soreness?  Nausea?  The ability to smell every raw onion within a ten-mile radius?  Check.  Check.  Check.  These fun confirmations of pregnancy flood the first trimester, moving you along strong, oniony currents into what I'd call a philosophical place where questions like "Why on earth do women ever volunteer to breed?" take on whole new levels of meaning.

In the second trimester, luckily, pregnancy tends to take a different turn.  I've mentioned the genuine thrill of feeling those first fetal jabs and hiccups.  Your belly starts to take on a Buddha-esque appearance, which at least in my case has been a cause for frequent self-marveling in front of a mirror.  But these symptoms of pregnancy are well-advertised and, therefore, easily (and happily) anticipated.  The real hoot of Trimester Two is the set of symptoms no one tells you about.  Like the constant bloody noses and the stuffed ears.  Or, for me, the mysterious vibrating sensation just inside the inner arch of my right foot.   (It took me a few minutes of confused searching to realize that I wasn't sitting on a ringing cell phone; a nurse advised I be on the lookout for signs of worsening pressure on my sciatic nerve, but for now I guess I can just enjoy some natural electrotherapy?)

I can only guess what pleasures and surprises the third trimester will bring.  Will I get to experience first-hand the fate of Voilet Beauregard (as this brave woman on NPR's recent Baby Project did)? (Warning:  Don't click if you're easily grossed out; it's not pretty.)  Will I finally be hit by the famous preggo cravings?  Or wake up to find myself tattooed with ever-fashionable stretch marks?

Every day's an adventure when baby's on board.  I have a lot to look forward to--not least the many surprises I can't anticipate!

Introductions

Allow me to introduce you to the newest light of my life:  Archimedes.  At least, Archimedes is his or her fetal name.  Though, if you ask, we might insist that'll be the permanent name.  "We'll call him (her) Archie for short," we'll say, while you politely smile and nod (surprisingly, responses to this suggestion have been fairly positive).  In any case, for now, Archie it is.

These days Archie is a little over twenty weeks old--just past the official halfway point of our pregnancy.  We cannot believe how quickly time is passing.  Why, I still remember when Archie was just a little blastocyst, blessing me with daily nausea and hyperactive tear ducts.  Fortunately, the second trimester has been much more pleasant than the first, and now when I swoon it's not because of an undesirably heightened sense of smell but rather because I can't get over the awesome feeling of Archimedes tickling me from inside or because Archie is just way too cute for words in the latest sonogram.

Speaking of which, here are a couple of pictures of Archimedes at about 19 weeks.  What did I tell you?  Superbly adorable.  Frankly, I'm still in near-disbelief that this little darling is growing inside me.