Exploring Chaos

Do you want to know something weird? Despite all the exams and dildo cams of TTC, I did not have one internal exam my whole pregnancy and was only wand-ed twice. I don’t know about you but that just strikes me as bizarre.

Just over 3 weeks post c-section and I’m starting to feel better within myself… note I said better, not normal, nothing will ever be the same again and I of course wouldn’t change things. I look fabulous, really, really good. I lost a lot of weight during my pregnancy and the weight I put back on was all baby, placenta, fluid etc, etc so apart from the puffy belly I looked pretty awesome 2 days post partum, add in breastfeeding which seems to be sucking the fat right off of my frame and I’m looking better than I have in years… well I would be if it wasn’t for the giant bags under my eyes and the slightly vacant look I give anyone who asks me a question that requires an answer outside of yes/no. I can’t wait to be able to start exercising and toning up.

Breastfeeding is going ok… other than the awesome side effect of weight loss, I will never understand how something so ‘natural’ can be so difficult, heartbreaking and just plain painful.. and that’s just dealing with the baby, not to mention the opinions and advice everyone seems to have for you. Some of my mums group ladies have it really bad with bleeding, cracked nipples or mastitis but I’m pretty lucky, D attaches well and only rarely bites me although I do have to watch him when he’s sleepy because he lets most of the breast slide out of his mouth and ends up just sucking on the nipple which hurts like buggary and is a surefire way to damage the poor things.

I’m not hating feeding him this way, I’m not loving it either, I don’t feel like it’s this huge bonding experience that everyone goes on about (there’s only so much mutual gazing you can do) and I find nothing productive about feeding him for an hour umpteen times a day but at least it reminds me to spend some time with my feet up… the alternative for me is to pump and feed him and although I do pump daily because I refuse to breastfeed in public and like to be mobile enough to leave him with family, attaching myself to that mooing machine a zillion times a day would drive me mad!

It is nice, to spend some special time cuddling D, he cracks me up when he feeds, he’s always so ravenous and he makes the funniest sounds plus I’ve always been well blessed in the chesticular area and it is hysterical to watch a tiny baby nomming away on a boob more than 6 times as big as his head – I have some of the funniest photos ever.

We’re adjusting slowly to the lack of sleep and the fact that everything we do now is wrapped up in that tiny little guy, I could stare at him all day and like nothing better than having him cuddled on my chest as I read or watch telly. We’re creating a monster but what’s the point of finally getting your dream if you can’t spoil him rotten?

This month I’m a wee bit late for the party but I think I can be excused for not being organised enough to have a welcome up for the start. I wasn’t going to join in on ICLW this month, I really wasn’t sure I’d have the time but when I got home from the hospital I knew that I’d be spending many hours reading and commenting at odd times of the night so signed up.

Everything now needs updating but you can read about me on the about page, it’s just over a week out of date. In a nutshell, I’m 28, married to H and after 6 years TTC we are finally holding Little Bear our beautiful miracle baby and I’m now home recovering from surgery and adjusting to life with this little person who makes my heart so full it hurts every second of every day.

I really enjoy ICLW, I read so many blogs daily but don’t always comment on them so ICLW reminds me to get out there and comment not only on the ones I read daily but also the new finds from the list. I usually do an intro with something about me but to be honest I’m too knackered to think.

I’ve written out my c-section birth story thingo in the post below, the password is my nickname for D, it turns out that I just can’t bring myself to call him blob now that I can see his sweet little face. The story is long and I’ve added a few pictures of the birth – can you believe they let you take pictures of them pulling the baby out of the incision?

I’m doing well – they don’t lie when they tell you that the HG will disappear as soon as you have the baby, I had my last vomit on the operating table and my nausea disappeared not long after they wheeled me out of there, I’ve been fine ever since. Recovery is still taking longer than I thought it would, I had no concept of just how major a surgery this would be, I think I fooled myself into thinking that it would be a quick snip and sew affair and that the whole 6 week recovery thing was just a guideline. It’s not, a week after the surgery I still hobble around and spend most of the day in bed with D. H is awesome, he’s had to take over everything as well as become a new dad and he’s fully embraced everything about our new life. I love that man.

This morning I didn’t think we’d make it, last night I was sure we were in for at least a few more days in hospital but we’re here and glad to be back in our own space. D is fine, perfect in fact. I am not. C-section recovery is hard; especially if a crazy midwife decides to give you paracetamol instead of oxycodone… Major fuck-up. The midwives on the next shift could not believe what she did once they finally figured it out – for a while there we thought I may have split the wound.

I am exhausted, breastfeeding is proving painful despite the fact that he attaches well (having one of the most sensitive parts of your body sucked on for half hour to an hour every 3 to 4 hours will do that), the C-Section wound HURTS – the pain was bearable when I was attached to a PCA chock full of pethidine but they took that away pretty fast, and of course yesterdays screw up has left me feeling kind of raw… but I wouldn’t change a thing.

D has arrived. Born 8:34am 14th Jan 2010. 8lb 0oz, 54cm.

ETA: so in love, can’t believe we made something so beautiful. Recovering ok, birth story to come when we get home (next week) c-section not as scary as I thought and pain is bearable with meds.

We returned from England a week before our wedding to a flurry of activity and family catch-ups, our wedding celebrations started the Wednesday before and ended the Thursday after the big day so it left little time to relax. The whole week leading up to the big day was spent seeing people and we would hug and kiss hello, do the standard how are you dance of meaningless chit chat and then, invariably I would get asked one of two questions – “are you excited” or “are you scared”.

I was neither. I didn’t know how to answer those questions, for me it seemed so normal and natural to be marrying the man I love, why would I be scared or excited about merely legalising what we already knew? I didn’t want the big wedding my family insisted on, we wanted to get married in Italy with just two witnesses and then come home to a party, we’d lived together for two years, been trying for a baby already, a wedding was going to make no difference to us other than change my name. I was not excited, I was not scared, I felt like it was just another normal day (albeit one where I got to wear a princess outfit).

That changed when I was standing outside, waiting to walk down the aisle. All of a sudden the emotion overwhelmed me and I fully understood how amazing it was that I was there, about to get married to a man who may not have been what I’d always imagined but was what I’d always needed, the road we walked to get there was not the conventional one a little girl dreams of but it was all the more special because of the love we had found. I was excited, I was scared, adrenaline pumped through me and I clenched my Dad’s arm tight. And then it was time to walk, and I saw him, love overwhelmed me and everything else faded away.

This last week I have been seeing lots of people and they ask those same questions – “are you excited”, “are you scared”… I am neither. Right now, I am numb, I am calm, I am the moment before you inhale, where all breath has left your body and you are relaxed almost totally. I suspect that this numbness will fade as they wheel me into surgery and I suspect that everything else will fade when they place that little bundle on my chest. But for now, I am trying not to look at the clock, trying to keep this shroud of calm around me and trying not to ask myself those two questions.

I am ready
I am ready to be a mother
I am ready to meet my son
I am ready for our long held dream to become reality
I am ready… and oh so scared.

4 sleeps unless he decides to make an appearance beforehand, I am petrified, but I AM ready.

I woke up last night, violently ill and when I returned to bed H, who has long since learned to sleep through my night time runs to the bathroom rolled over sleepily and told me that he had dreamed about blob, dreamed that he was born and we couldn’t name him.

It’s cute that my husband is dreaming about our baby but his dream unearthed one of my fears – by this time next week I will be in recovery and one of us will be holding our miracle baby… and we still don’t have a name for him.

We’ve spent hours going over name books, we’ve even picked three different names but none feel right, I’m hoping like hell that when we see him one of those names will just fit and everything will fall into place… how’s that for wishful thinking. I have nightmares that the midwife is going to lay our baby on my chest and ask if we have a name for him and my only answer will be no.

Today I had my final antenatal OB appointment – yup, you read that right – final. Holy hell we’re really there, 10 more sleeps until my scheduled ceaser and my Doc seems to think I’ll go earlier. Baby (as always) is fine, happy hanging out in there squishing his head into my stomach and adding to my reflux and nausea, I’m massively anaemic which is a bit of a worry for the c-section but there’s not much they can do now, especially as I can’t tolerate taking iron. Doc says this probably adds to my HG & baby squishing nausea, not to mention my terrible tiredness.

I put on 1kg in the last 3 weeks and today I have almost returned to my pre-pregnancy weight and it only took 8.5 months of growing a baby to do it! I lost so much that the weight of baby etc plus some fluid retention thanks to the swelling has only now returned me to near (2kgs under) what I was, and I lose it all next week. Pregnancy is the best diet I have ever been on, it’s a worry when even your OB who is well aware of your infertility history says that he bets you won’t want to ever be pregnant again after the time you had with this one! To be honest, I whinge and moan and yes, I’ve been sick as a dog for longer than I care to think about but I’d sign up for round two if I could.

I’m apparently in Pre-labour which as far as I can tell involves increased nausea and vomiting (fun!) masses of pelvic pain (think getting your worst period), lower back pain and contractions that come in sets comprising of 4-5 hours of moderately painful contractions that get stronger and more regular (for me, usually at night!) and then just as you start to freak out because they’re awful close and you think you should go to the hospital they start to taper off, loads of strong, irregular Braxton Hicks happening all day and of course having a show (or losing the plug, whatever term you prefer) which is just feral.

I am exhausted, I’ve had a week of this and according to my Doc, it could continue right up until my scheduled ceaser if I don’t go earlier. I can’t believe that we’re finally going to reach our dream, I wish I could enjoy every moment of this experience just in case I never get to have it again but instead I feel sick and tired and damnit I want this baby out!