C-Section Look Ahead

Change of topics here as I start to prepare for baby girl, scheduled to enter the world on February 12th. I will be having a cesarean section again, although this time I have the advantage of knowing it's coming.

There were a lot of things that were scary about my first delivery. I had terrible back labor pain (which the epidural helped but did not get rid of). I had killer, transition-like contractions at only 3 centimeters dilated that looked like a New Mexico plateau on the monitor instead of the peaky little Swiss Alps that were supposed to be there. When Baby Z's heart rate plummeted a second time during those contraction plateaus, my doctor decided it was safer for baby to do a c-section. Baby Z was four and a half weeks early, they weren't sure how big he was, and they didn't want to risk putting him through continued stress.

After the initial shock, I thought about the risk to our baby and the panic I felt those few times his little heart rate went down and struggled to get back up. My husband and I felt good it was the safest and best thing to do. And then I got really scared.

They wheeled me down into an operating room and began my prep. It wasn't an emergency in the get-it-done-in-less-than-5-minutes sense, so I had time to take things in and listen to the doctors and nurses chatter. At this point John was outside the room getting decked in scrubs or something, so I was alone. Did I mention I was really scared? They made me put my arms out, Christ-like, on these arms supports. The room was freezing. The anaesthesia from the epidural also makes you cold/shaky. I was shivering like someone having a seizure. This was the last straw. I started sobbing...and then hyperventilating (just a little). I do not recommend hyperventilating in a hospital. No cute paper bag. You get an oxygen mask that makes you feel the exact opposite of what it is doing; that is, you feel like it is suffocating you. The nurse kept telling me to calm down and slow my breathing. I shivered and shook and tried to calm down. I don't think it got better until John came back in the room.

When the surgery team was finally assembled, I was fairly calm (or worn out) and I lay there listening to them talking about a basketball game one of the surgeons had to leave early from to perform my c-section. I was slightly indignant that they could so casually discuss such non-essential topics when my life was in their hands. Then, I thought, casual co-worker chatter was a good sign that this surgery was routine and fairly low risk. When they pulled Baby Z out of me, someone lowered the curtain slightly so I could see him being lifted out. If I could find that person and hug him, I would. That image became a reassurance to me in the months following when I relived the experience and dealt with feelings of loss over the birth experience I thought I would have.

Two things happened when Baby Z came out. He screamed, relieving my concerns about immature lungs in a premature baby. And, the pain in my back stopped. Ahhhh. John went with Baby Z so I was alone again, but this time I didn't care. It's kind of a blur in my memory, but at some point they wheeled me into a recovery room and I got to see the tail-end of Z's cleanup. This is when I finally heard that there really were no problems for his being early and that he was an unexpected six pounds, twelve ounces.

When I finally got to hold him, we tried breast feeding right away. He latched on immediately and I was blown away at how much changes in just a few hours. Was this the same wiggler that was inside me less than twelve hours before? Is this him? Is this our son? And, although it took some time of processing through what had happened, I realized that a birth is a birth no matter how it happens. Some are easier than others, some go as planned and others don't. But in the end, you have a new baby. And the heroics of motherhood have only just begun.

Words, words, words

I finally got the report from Z's developmental evaluation. I praise God that I have had enough time and distance from the experience, and enough reassuring progress with Z, that I did not have a meltdown. It was what I expected as far as showing Z behind in most areas. I have enough perspective now to see where the report is incorrect, in that Z can do the activity but was just not willing to do it there in the room. And, the good thing is, that the goals for therapy and improvement are all good. Not all of them are necessary, but I think we'll see that right away and move on to the things he really can't do.

The next step is for him to be evaluated by a speech therapist. And then he'll start going to a group play time where we'll work on the skills he needs help developing. The report said they wanted him in two hours of therapy (one speech, one occupational) three times a week. Holy cow. Not sure how we're going to work that out with a new baby on the way, but I'm taking this one step at a time. John will be taking time off of work when the baby comes, so maybe that will be a fun activity they can do together. That might work out perfectly, actually. God's timing is perfect. We'll just wait and see.

As for Z's words, he is really improving. A sweet friend (THANK YOU, Mrs. V!), who is a speech therapist, came over and did her usual activities with a toddler so that I could learn from what she does. It was extremely helpful. She showed me how you use times of control (when you have something the child wants) to encourage them to speak. It is just a way to motivate them. But, the best part was she gave me the guideline that she would try to get them to say a word three times (while with-holding the object) and if they didn't do it, she gave it to them and moved on to another item/game. She had to do that with the first activity with Z, but not after that. I really think if she had held out on that first time, he would have shut down and become too frustrated to even try after that. Also, watching her interact with Z, I got a feel for how therapy should be. He was definitely challenged and pushed a little, but overall, he had fun and the experience was very pleasant. This has set the bar for how his future sessions will be judged, which makes me feel more empowered about future decisions we might need to make.

Since we started focusing on it more he has started to use about 50% more words than what he was at 24 months. I am so encouraged by his progress. And, I'm really enjoying that these new words are useful, not just entertaining. For example, now he is saying: yesh, nope, mop (milk), cheese, fayou (thank you). Before, it was more sounds like ayaya, uh oh, ow (ouch). It is so great to hear his voice. His "nope" is so cute, I'm not even annoyed with it yet. Smile. Oh, and I should mention that he picked up "mine" from a well-meaning Sesame Street about "mine-itis," which in the end emphasized sharing. Hee hee.

So, we are on our way! Thanks to everyone for your encouraging words and friendship.

Virtual Playmates

I was very wary of Z becoming commercialized by branded characters. Thomas the Train, Sesame Street, Caillou. They were just another way to sell toothpaste and shoes. This is true, and I'm still going to steer clear of products with characters plastered everywhere. However, I didn't realize the pull those characters would have on Z. Even before he had ever seen Thomas on anything, he picked the Choo Choo toothpaste. These people are good. They REALLY know what kids like. Anyway, since Z is allowed to watch TV now, I have surrendered myself to the fact that Z will get to know these virtual playmates better than most real people in his life. At first Z mostly liked Caillou. Then, when he got the Stand-Up Comic Elmo for Christmas (from his grandparents), suddenly Elmo and Sesame Street is the best thing ever.

Since Z has switched his affection from Caillou to Elmo, I, for one, am pretty happy about it. Here's why:

Caillou is a "real" little boy, but the world he lives in is not. Real, that is. Caillou's observations of the world around him are realistic and genuine. He is impatient about the things he can't do yet, and curious about every day things like subway trains and bean bag games. Although Caillou's whiny voice can be annoying to listen to, at least it sounds like a little boy. However, the rest of Caillou's world is pretty unrealistic. Both his parents seem to be home almost all the time. His Mom and Dad always have time for him and are always very, very patient. When Caillou is naughty or contrary, a wise, patient comment from Mom or Dad is all he needs to mend his ways. Caillou very rarely gets in a fight with his baby sister. Even when they both want to play with the same thing, a reminder about taking turns from Mom turns them into model children. All in all, although Caillou has every day appeal, the seeming normal-ness of a very unrealistic world bothers me.

Now. Elmo. As much as I wanted to be annoyed by Mr. Popularity, I finally had to admit he is pretty charming. He is witty and affectionate. And he has great rhythm. Really. I do get a little annoyed by his laugh, but I can overlook this little defect. And Z really likes him. A friend told me Elmo's puppet master is a big, black man. Honestly, this helps. I imagine a hip, fun guy who really enjoys making his character, Elmo, interesting and funny. I think he does a pretty darn good job.

We haven't gotten to know Thomas too well yet. And who knows who else is on the horizon. I can see how we're just starting to explore the wide make-believe world of children's entertainment. I wonder who Baby Girl will like? (Please, not Abby Cadabby!)

Emergency Room Romp

This last weekend I had some pretty strong Braxton-Hicks contractions. We were walking a lot at the time and when I sat down they settled down. I honesty don't remember feeling anything like that last time since my labor came on suddenly with intense back pain which I was convinced was a kidney infection. So, after coming home and resting a little, I did some research on what contractions feel like and when I should be concerned. In the end, I decided to sit tight since they were calming down.

The next day everything was normal. When it was back to normal I realized how strong those contractions actually were. Hm. Maybe I should have called my doctor. Well, all's well that ends well.... After that, I got a long lecture from the friend of mine who with Z told me in the most delicate and non-panicky way that I should go to the hospital and get my "back pain" checked out. Anyway, she is well aware of my ability to give birth early, so she told me I had to be really cautious about this one. Of course, she is right. But this pregnancy thing is so inconvenient, you know?

Well, on Monday, all was well on the contraction front, but I woke up from a nap with crazy, heavy chest pain and pain between my shoulder blades. In my newly conservative state of mind, I called my doctor. I also took a Tums and a Tylenol. By the time the doctor called me back, the pain had eased up a little. But the doctor told me to go to the emergency room. Sigh. Really? Pack up the dude, drive to my Mom's to drop him off, go wait in a crowded waiting room? And I haven't even eaten dinner?

Turns out they take chest pain very seriously. I obeyed my doctor and went. They bumped me to the front of the line with chest pain and shortness of breath. I felt bad since by then things had eased up. It was nice to not have to wait in line, though. They did an EKG and cleared me of any heart problem. Then they wheeled me off to Labor and Delivery. Once again I had to put that silly robe on when I was least expecting it. I stared down that baby-warmer thingy and told it not to get excited- there were going to be no babies coming his way that night. They monitored the baby, who was doing fine and we waited for a blood test and ultrasound to make sure I didn't have a gallstone or something like that.

After a while, the pain I had in the afternoon came back and I was very thankful to be in a hospital bed where we could potentially do something about it. It also made me feel less ridiculous; once the pain goes away, I tend to minimize it, as if I had imagined it being that bad. This pain was unlike anything I've felt (not in intensity but in variety and location). It radiated from my shoulder blades to shoulder to neck to jaw and then head. John said it was similar to what he has felt with really bad heartburn before. Holy moley. I told him I would be far more sympathetic the next time that happened to him. They finally gave me some pain medication (the real stuff!) and it finally started to feel better. Oh, the relief! I totally see how people who are in chronic pain get addicted!

Anyway, they cleared me of any stones or inflammation of digestive organs. They don't know what caused the pain. Hm. I guess I don't care as long as it doesn't come back. So far, so good. They did give me a prescription for pain medication just in case. Hopefully I won't need it. I can say that I am taking this stage of pregnancy very seriously now. I am trying to take it easy and not lift things too much. I'm drinking water, eating healthily, taking naps when I can. I'm calling in reinforcements in babysitting. I'm also pretty sure I don't want to do this ever again. Two kids is it for us. But that's for another blog another day.

Time-Outs Times Ten

Our first battle with the time-out rug was not the last. Over the holiday break (John had two weeks off work), we (well, mostly John) worked on more time-outs and had a few more battles lasting 15 minutes or even more. I resigned my post in the time-out department for a little while, since it is too hard to physically keep putting him back on the rug. However, there has been some improvement and the last few times Z has actually sat on the rug the first time we put him there. And I did successfully use the rug all by myself one time. Yeah!

Man, oh man, though, it is not easy. Being a parent takes a lot of discipline and endurance. Who knew it would be so hard to outlast a two year-old? And I honestly don't know how single parents do it. If I didn't have John to stay firm and consistent during that whole process, I would have failed immediately. Z has become highly adept at emotional manipulation. He knows exactly how to cry "MMaaa--ma" to get me. I'm going to claim that pregnancy hormones make me especially susceptible, but he does have some power over me. For some women, a crying baby is the ultimate tyrant. For me, the more he is able to communicate, the more power he wields. If he knew that, he would be talking in paragraphs by now. (Smile)

That's it for now. I'm going to work on Z's room this morning while we have a babysitter. Lot's of rearranging and prioritizing to do to get ready for baby girl.