I should take more. I might. MAYBE.
Poor second child and his not-blogging mother. I’m back at work next week so have been trying to get lots of cuddles in!
What he’s doing now:
- babbling, lots of ah-goo for the past few weeks
- reaching and grasping for his toys (and making googoo eyes at them)
- scooching around on the floor when he’s down for mat time
- big gummy grins
- sticking his tongue out very politely
- he’s taken a bottle, mum is sad
And the big one… Sleeping through! Mostly. Not last night for instance.
He’s a good boy! And has only been stood on by his sister once.
So that second baby is now a week old. It’s gone pretty quickly, but the sooner we get to the bit where he sleeps all night the better!
Yes I know we’ve been home for a week now and this should have been up sooner. I’ve been busy!
Tired, lumpy, sore, manky-eyed and phlegmed up. SO HOT.
Here’s how this one went.
Contractions started about 10:30 on Sunday night, of course. Heaven forfend I should actually get a decent night’s sleep before exploding in baby. I managed to get a tiny bit of sleep while they were still 10 minutes apart, but they were pretty strong to start with and quickly became more frequent. Which means, wah WAH, no sleep. Oh, and I woke up with a manky sticky eye to top it all off THANKS UNIVERSE.
Do cats know these things? Kittenpoppy was being very clingy all night and shadowing me everywhere. I figure she either she thought I was brewing something for her to eat or she was trying to warn me to get the dishes done.
At about 3am contractions were about 5 minutes apart and Sam decided he’d go get some sleep. :\ I also had to send the early warning alerts to the parents (sorry sorry!) so Dad and Di left Thames and Mum came over to keep an eye on Amelie.
Contractions are ouchy, y’know? Like, no-sleep painful, even during early labour.
At 5-ish they were 3 minutes apart so we headed up to the hostible so I could get an assessment. The verdict was 2cm and a ways to go, so we were given the option of hanging around or coming home to be painful in comfort. We came home…
Dad and Di took Amelie with them when she woke after 7 (she was very excited to find a lounge full of grandparents) and Mum, Sam and I headed out for a day of walking around – down by the water in Mangere Bridge and then to the Museum. Which, incidentally, is really really boring if you confine yourself to the ground floor. And also PAINFUL if you do it while in labour.
TMI: Show! In the museum! Ew! Thankfully no waters broken. And we didn’t get trapped in the revolving door, though that would have made an interesting exhibit.
Sideline: guys, contractions do feel like really painful wave-like cramps. This isn’t the time to explain that you once had a really bad leg cramp so you understand the pain. It’s really really not. It probably never will be.
At about 2 I completely wussed out and went back to the hospital in the hopes of being given lots and lots of drugs. While there’d been some progress I still wasn’t in established labour and there was some discussion on the merits of staying in, having drugs and getting some rest vs manning up and going home and trying to relax OK BUT IT FREAKIN HURTS WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN RELAX?! As a precaution I had the fetal heart monitor attached and ooo… With the stronger contractions, baby’s heart was going apeshit (this is a medical term), spiking up around 200 and dropping to… 0. Which I assume isn’t an ideal heart rate for fetuseses.
At this point two things were decided.
- 1. I was not going home
- 2. I was not getting drugs
W. T. F.
So basically for the next 4 hours I was strapped up and bed-bound but not drugged in any way. Contractions really hurt too. It’s like… they really hurt 12 hours ago. And now they really really hurt – like going from an 8 to an 8.5 on a scale of hurtiness. But I digress.
The heart issue reappeared on a few more of the stronger contractions, the registrar was called in, some wedging and repositioning was undertaken and it seemed to resolve. It was possibly a cord compression issue, which isn’t a major given that shifting around got everything into a better alignment. But still, NO DRUGS GIVEN. Why do these people torment me so?
As luck would have it, about an hour after we arrived labour established. Luck, because even more pain is awesomer.
Somewhere around here they decided to whack a lure in and get me on IV fluids. Well. I don’t know how most of you feel about giant frakin needles, but I’m not a fan despite pregnancy being one giant needle-fest. I’m ESPECIALLY not a fan when it takes 3 attempts to site them successfully and 2 veins are blown out in the process. I eventually ended up with it right in the crook of my elbow, which is not something I can recommend for practicality or comfort. My arm is still bruised and sore a week and a half later.
And I look like a junky. Again.
Fast forward, contractions suck… ouch ouch.
Apparently we know things are getting serious when I stop cracking wise and making stupid comments about everything. I use humour as a coping mechanism? Whodathunk?
At around 5:30 (I’m totally making times up now), we decided to try gas again despite it doing SFA last time. This time it makes me dizzy and I’d like to think it took the edge off the pain (which means going from a 9 to an 8.75, for what it’s worth). However, as things progress Sam takes to jamming it in my mouth for me and I fear for my teeth. It’s a bit of a double edged sword.
I don’t think I swore very much this time either, but I do recall my pleas for drugs being ignored, and quite a bit of pitiful ‘please no more’ and ‘I can’t do this’ whining. Which is when I discovered that in labour NOBODY TAKES YOU SERIOUSLY. Instead they’re all supportive and ‘Of course you can do it!’ when all you really really want is drugs. Lots of drugs. So cruel, and most of them I’d never even done anything to.
Things went pretty fast in the end. One moment I was flailing around (elegantly, with grace and poise) and Sam was calling me Amelie because I stroppily wouldn’t suck on the gas. The next moment I was all like UM…PUSH! I don’t know that urge is the right word. It’s a bit gentle really – like a general inclination to push a wee bit. The reality is more of a physiological imperative – there was NO WAY I wasn’t pushing right then and there and screw anyone who tried to stop it because I sure as hell couldn’t.
I didn’t get that with Amelie because I had the epi (which I highly recommend). Yeah, it hurt.
It took about 4 or 5 big pushes and a few little ones. I think? 9 minutes anyway and then it was all over. Except for IT STILL HURT AND NOBODY GAVE ME DRUGS. No episiotomy this time, yay, and no stitches on account of only having a teeny well aligned tear. Woo. But ow.
Alexander (Xander) Gray Rayner-Kirby.
6lb 13oz, born 18/07/11 at 18:39. APGARS 9 and 10, 50cm long, head 34cm.
According to Amelie, he’s her special baby, cutey baby, so cute, so tiny. She likes to be involved.
So we (what’s gonna work? TEEEEEAMWORK!) managed a natural drug-free – though not by my choice – birth and I can honestly say if it ever happened again, which it won’t, I would drug up early and often. I didn’t find it empowering or a celebration of womanhood or life or any of that. It hurt like buggery, and since we have safe ways to make it not hurt like buggery, I choose to celebrate those.
We went on to Birthcare again, and I got re-acquainted with the most excellent showers and the constant stream of food brought right to me (no cooking! no dishes!) It’s just a pity it costs so freakin much and that I was always at the end of the kitchen run so my food was rarely hot. Of course hungry me cared not a bit and scarfed it anyway…
I love how they really reach for adjectives on the menu too. Luscious I buy. Delicious, sure. But appetizing? You can’t do better than that? I note they’ve updated the menu design since last time too – which means that, sadly, they’re no longer using the one I designed while at Spotless. HA.
Xander decided he’d mostly cooperate and give feeding a decent stab, unlike someone else who spent most of the time screaming about the indignity of it all. He was still very snuffly and mucousy when we left though, which made me feel all guilty for having the audacity to be sick and pregnant at the same time.
He’s a pretty good baby really. Settles well, so far, and doesn’t carry on quite as much as his sister did. We’ll keep him (we kept her after all).
So, because I was so slack with updates, incubation in brief:
Heartburn, yes, from the get-go. I also had two hairy babies, so I guess I’ll just perpetuate that old wives tale. This time I got the Ranitidine early though. Blessed, blessed ranitidine.
Stretch marks. :( Not til the last few weeks when everything got suddenly itchy and I hatched a crop over the baby-lump on my left hand side. So close.
Cravings… neh. Ate a lot of fruit, but that’s because it’s tasty. Cheeseburgers again maybe?
Heft… 8kg gained, which was less than with Spudelie and put me a grand total of 1kg over the heaviest I got with her. Teeny tiny baby though.
Nesting… no. I feel robbed.
General preparedness score: 3/10.
She totally knew (and might still eat him).
That’ll do pig. That’ll do.
I’m not finishing that thought in the expected way, because it’s NOT TRUE. I am a huge fat pregnant person and I have a cold. I’m miserable. My face is full of gross and I have an old-man cough (I just hacked up a chunk of something – so hot right now). And even better, Amelie has it too.
So, 36 weeks!
Apparently my uterus is 1000x its original size. Which is good to know and could come in handy as a conversation starter. I have one week left of work and I may or may not make it, depending on how Old Man Cold pans out.
Everything keeps reminding me to pack my hospital bag; down to Sam and Amelie finding and eating the 3 year old emergency boiled lollies in it from last time. So that’s today’s task. I think I have most of the components… Update: no, I’m missing a few major bits – good thing I checked! Also, I don’t recommend packing with a bored and quote unquote helpful 3 year old floating around. Unless you really love re-re-re-folding everything and filtering out the random crap.
OH! We have a car seat (I thought I’d left it really late, but it turns out we actually got it 2 weeks earlier than we did last time) and, bonus, we know how to install it well in advance of needing it.
So, MW this week… I learned my jeans weigh 800g. I weighed them because I thought it was important to know, and they’re heavier than I thought they’d be (also a good conversation starter: “Guess how much these jeans weigh! Go on – guess!”). It also means I’ve put on 8kg so far; 2kg to equal the Amelie-gain. And apparently I need to take more iron, even though the old-people regulariser I’m taking can’t counter the iron I’m already ingesting, and I need to get more rest. OK! I own a three year old! REST!
This week #2 was head down, bum up, to the left and back facing my front (Left Occiput Anterior). Amelie was ROT (Right Occiput Transverse) so was head down, to the right and back facing my side, and turned posterior during labour. LOA is like… yay in comparison – this one should be anterior so no back labour repeat. Thank freakin bob.
No name yet, stop asking. It’ll have one one day.
Hmm… what else. I put my recliney-ottomanny chair together last night while watching Desperado. It’s comfy. It reclines. And it traps 3 year olds.
Desperado is still a good movie.
So that’s the update. I guess since I have no more work after next week I should probably post a couple more before #2 hatches. We shall see!