The First Two Weeks

The first two weeks of having a newborn are like a marathon. Your arms and legs hurt, you are ridiculously tired afterward, and you really need a shower.

Right before "push time". I still look like this, just less comfy.

Daniel and I initially slept in shifts for those first two nights, which was about as successful as you would think. We just ended up being tired at different times, never seeing each other. It really sucked if you were the person who got up at five in the morning and didn't go to sleep until five the next morning when your shift was up. I actually almost fell asleep feeding the baby. That was when I knew it was time to change the routine. Now we can sleep a lot better, even if I do wake up every five seconds to check if he's breathing.

When William was sent back to the hospital for jaundice and his temperature problems, I was so upset, but it turned out to really help. Daniel and I learned how to sleep while the baby does and baby William learned how to sleep somewhere other than in our arms.

His favorite place. Makes me happy. And tired.

 Then came the trouble with the formula. I was unable to breastfeed mainly because he was so tiny at birth and I wasn't making enough milk to feed him. I am not ashamed of having to feed William formula. He is chunking up quite nicely. But I digress. In the beginning, he spit up everything we gave him. It was similar to something from "The Exorcist" at times. Now we are feeding him soy formula, which has helped, except now his burps are pretty terrible smelling. I guess I better get used to gross bodily functions, being the mother of a boy.

So far, I love being a mom. I am exhausted, but every time I see his little face (no matter how grumpy he looks), it makes my heart explode into little bits of glitter. Yes, glitter. And confetti. And the sugary sprinkles that no one really likes but adds them to cupcakes anyways. Seeing him with his dad makes the explosion happen as well. This year, I am going to try and take a picture of him every day or every week, if that's too hard to do. I want his first year to be the best, especially since he has let us survive this first two weeks in his presence.

Meeting for the first time since birth.

I'll just have to be sure he knows that we are eternally grateful.

William's Birth Story

What are you looking at?

This story begins at 3:30 in the morning on December 13th, 2012. Daniel and I were keeping our usual, night owl sleep schedule and playing, of all things, Mario Party on our "new" Nintendo 64, I know, we are children. It was a particularly rousing game, that I completely would have won had Daniel not received all the bonus stars (you call this trivial, I call it an unfortunate game-changer). I would like to think that I laughed myself into labor, because within the next hour or so, I began to have what I would consider actual contractions. Kind of uncomfortable, but nothing that I couldn't handle.

Night Number One: I'm pretty restless, between the dull achiness that has crept into my back and hips and trying to time the waves of pain. I only get about five hours of sleep. I wake up at ten in the morning and text my mom to ask her opinion. I figure she would know what to do, considering she's done this twice and my experiences are pretty much limited to watching A Baby Story and reading books on childbirth (neither of which offer a clear answer on what labor is, may I add). She tells me to take a shower, eat something, and attempt to time them. I do all of this. The shower was incredibly painful, since the contractions wouldn't ease up, I didn't have much of an appetite, and I still couldn't get a clear pattern with timing. At three in the afternoon, I went to my ultrasound appointment.

At my appointment, I learn that I have gone from 1 centimeter to 3.5 in less than a week. For those of you who haven't had babies, this is pretty good news. Even the OB was surprised, since he was the one who checked me just six days prior. I felt pretty accomplished. He tells me that he doesn't expect me to make it to my due date and that due to amniotic fluid levels that are a little lower than they like, I might be induced by the end of the week. They also tell me that William has a big head (oh, goody...) and will probably weigh 5 pounds, 14 ounces. We leave the appointment and decide to go walking around the track. All bundled up, I managed to walk one whole mile before it became too unbearable.

Night Number Two: Things really start to get rolling now. I can barely make it through a contraction without making some sort of sound. At first, I was happy with just clenching my fists. Then came squeezing Daniel's hand, followed by breathing techniques. After several hours of this, I can barely walk or talk with each wave. This is the real thing. After about an hour and a half of timing them, we leave for the hospital. It's 3:30 in the morning on December 14th, 2012. At the hospital, I am admitted at 4 centimeters. I'm told that I have technically been in labor for the past 24 hours, which makes me pretty proud of myself.

Things get a little serious for a while, when William decides that with each contraction, he's going to act up. His heart rate goes down with each one, making the nurses keep a close eye on both of us and I am given oxygen to help him out, as well as being told to lay on my right side (it's the only side I can lay on that he will stay under the monitor, ornery little thing). Daniel and I are prepared for the chance of an emergency C-section, but the doctor hoped it wouldn't come to that. At around 5:30 am, my family arrives and at 6:30 and 6 centimeters, I thankfully receive an epidural. At this point, nothing was helping the contractions except to make little whimpering sounds and suck at the oxygen mask. I had given up all show of being tough, despite what Daniel tells me. After the epidural, my water is broken and I am given extra saline to supplement the amniotic fluid, hoping to give the baby some extra cushion.

I continued to progress throughout the entire day, several new visitors, and two shifts of nurses and anesthesiologists. My final nurse, Brenda, was the one who helped deliver William and she was AWESOME. Like, I would most certainly give her a medal. It was also cool that I went to high school with both of her sons, which gave me, her, and my mom something to talk about while I was high off labor and the epidural. Which did I mention was fantastic? Around 11, I am told my baby should be born within the hour. Except I got to nine centimeters and refused to budge (I have a stubborn little guy in there).

Finally, at around 2 in the afternoon, I was able to start the hard work. And believe me, it was the hardest thing in the entire world, no matter how good they were telling me I was doing. All I could focus on was getting my little one into the world. But, as the day had foretold, that would be easier said than done. The doctor had to perform a vacuum extraction, which pretty much was an air-pressurized suction cup attached to baby's head to help him find his way out. After an hour of pushing, and with the help of a doctor, five nurses, my mom, and Daniel, at 2:53 baby William Emerson was born, weighing a little bitty 4 pounds, 14 ounces, and measuring 17 inches long. He was, and still is, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

The star of the show.

Daddy and baby, meeting for the second time.

We are ready for you, baby! (Seriously.)

It has been too, too long since my last post!

36 week, three days, and nothing has really happened. Maternity pictures have been taken. We've stocked up on the supply of baby gear and the hospital bags are packed. The nursery is complete and everything is clean! I've even made sure that I am ahead in my assignments at school, in case D-Day comes before the end of the semester.

Now all we need is the baby.

I keep thinking that any minute now, I'm going to feel something, ANYTHING, that signals labor is imminent. I go to bed thinking I'll be woken up in the middle of the night in a puddle of amniotic fluid or having contractions every 8-10 minutes. Yet nothing happens. I'm just now getting to the time period where it's safe for baby William to arrive, but I am so impatient. Like, "I want to cry, kill my husband, and fake labor" impatient. Everyone asks how I am and I just give them the evil eye. The hormones are in full swing, you guys.

36 weeks, taken by my lovely friend, Sara Dixon :)

I really know that I should be enjoying this time, because after the baby gets here nothing will be the same, but I am READY. R-E-A-D-Y. I hate just sitting here and waiting! Urgh. I might just start kicking my legs like a toddler. I mean, if hissy fits work for them, why can't they work for me!? Sorry for seeming like such a baby, but we are ready for Mr. William to arrive.

On the other hand, I want William to be as healthy and grown as possible, so if he wants to stay and get a little cuter, then he is more than welcome. I will try and keep my complaints down while he tries to nap in there...