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Posts Tagged ‘pregnancy’

I had the very best night of uninterrupted sleep in oh, let’s say ages. I can’t even remember the last time I acquired over 5 hours of sleep in the same setting. This is truly a remarkable event, so remarkable that I am writing it in my calendar in a red sharpie!! The day I regained my sleep!! Hallelujah!!

I feel like a NEW woman. Okay, I probably can’t make that claim just yet- but, I do feel pretty darn good considering 17 months of sleepless nights. (And yes, that may be a bit of an exageration.) 

If I were you, I would be DYING to know what I have to thank for this amazing feat?

That my dear friends would be ground up CHICKEN (seasoned in butter, thyme, and garlic) along with carrots, spinach, and peas. 

My little man gobbled up this concoction as if he had never eaten food before.  Who would have known meat would do the trick!?! He also drank my milk from a sippy cup. Is he growing up or what?

I made a big batch, too- which means we have about 8 servings left in the freezer and enough for tonight and tomorrow!!

I can’t even imagine 3 days of sleep. I am in heaven simply trying to imagine it.

I will try to post some photos of his new favorite food, as time permits.  Regardless of pictures, I will add the recipe in a few days. Mommies, the secret is out- meat is your friend!!

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Tonight, for the first time in ages I looked back to a few old photos while cleaning the computer of all our thousands of pictures. It was amazing sitting there by myself and seeing just how much Garrett had grown and how far he has come over the months. Heck, I would like to say that I think Bryan and I are doing an okay job at this parenting thing. Although, that wouldn’t be truthful given the twenty times a day that I wonder relentlessly to myself on how in the world this child is doing fine with me as his mother- who has been known to leave a heating pot of soup on the stove for over a half an hour before *oops* realizing it was there (I can’t smell ANYTHING dang-it!) or that half the time I’m really only guessing whether it’s his teeth bothering him or he’s sick and we should call the doctor.

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Aside from all that, as I started looking through a few more photos that are scattered on the laptop computer, I became a bit sad that I was no longer pregnant. Yep, it hit me like a TON of bricks! I never thought I would be one of those women, but alas I am. I miss feeling my belly all round and all the other areas go pudgy. I miss feeling a tiny flutter and then those first few rolls and then the kicks. The jabs, the inability to sit comfortably, the backache and even the big fat cankles at the end. Why…you ask?

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Maybe it has to do with knowing Baby G is growing and slowly spreading his tiny wings so he may enter the world and fly away from me. Maybe, it’s the delicateness of having another beating heart inside yourself that makes you feel incomplete without it, that is unless baby lays against your chest and you feel him breath as if it were those first few breathes. Perhaps, it’s the unknown and surreal beauty in wondering those nine long months and every.single.day.since. what he will be like or become. Whatever, it is- I know this; it all passes by too quickly. There are not enoughdays in a year or hours in a day to fully encompass and appreciate the life that forms within you or to fully understand and acknowledge the individual that is developing, being molded by your own actions and the environment that stands around him. And then, it takes your breath away as you realize how important you are to this one person and how important this one person is to you. And, suddenly nothing else matters but family. LOVE takes on an entirely different meaning.

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That’s when I glanced back to pictures taken 2-3 weeks before ‘we’ got pregnant. We stripped the wallpaper from the upstairs guest room and painted it blue. Boat Blue to be exact. Three weeks later, I was meeting a friend for a drink and I was famished. No big deal. The next day, it happened again as I had my hair trial for the wedding. Oh, I was simply running in circles with the wedding. No sweat, I would grab a bite later. And then, I was painting baby name blocks and getting ready to head to Marion for a baby shower. When, I had a feeling. It was my boss at the time that announced it to me “Mark my words, you’re pregnant!” My boss was a guy, so I knew I needed to take the test. Three tests later, we were positive.  And from looking at the photos, I do believe I had angel’s dust sprinkled all over me.

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I believe that Boat Blue room and Baby G was our destiny. Our Manifest Destiny to be exact.

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I woke up last night to a God awful dream. Bryan had come to me, like Steve did to Miranda and politely admitted to having an affair. But, not just any affair. The Affair. An affair with his X. You know the one.

First off Bryan would never have an affair. And to be fair, I’m big on reversing the senario- it always puts things into perspective. For example, I know I have no worries with an X because they are X’s for a reason. That usually works. 

{Edited to include:} In all honesty, I think everyone at one time or another thinks of their X. But, that’s it, its more of a fleeting thought and something you know is better left in the past. Because, ultimately you are two different people now.

The whole time Bryan and I have been together, I have never been paranoid. Well, minus the time I was five months pregnant with Garrett.

Oh, yeah that time. (Insert story of someone (I shant mention names) who works with Bryan- telling 5 month old pregnant woman that her husband thinks (said person) is a MILF.) First off, I find the very term ‘MILF’ unappealing, sexist, and crude. Call me a puritian if you will. But, it floats around way too freely these days. Not the point. This was something that infuriated me and changed my whole demeanor concerning our relationship. I went from easy going to crazy psychoatic lady within days. ‘Everything’s okay, Brook….you can calm back down that was almost a year ago.’ Even now, thinking of this scenario sends my blood boiling and causes me to find tons of insecurities in myself.

See thing is, Bryan’s job takes him away from me for very, very, long periods. We also work in seperate time zones. I am out the door by 9 a.m., he watches Baby G and then I am home by 2-3 p.m. and he leaves for work, only to arrive around 11 or so. We are akin to passing ships in the night and my day is much the way Becky describes her present life. 

We rarely get to hang out anymore. I mean, who has the time and wouldn’t blogging be more interesting. Kidding.

All this makes for a good soap opera, if you let it.

Seriously, Wednesdays are special nights. Bryan has inventory and if he doesn’t get home by midnight- I admit my radar starts going off and I think the unthinkable, even though I know without a doubt that he would never do anything. Thing is, that self-proclaimed MILF might do something. Not Bryan.

Last night, I simply called to say I was worried and went on to bed. Bryan arrived close to twenty minutes later and soon followed to bed. I woke up at 2 a.m. shouting- NO! NO! NO! By the time I had realized it was a dream, I was considering continuing my yelling simply because I felt the need for consoling. True story. I guess my reasons for posting this isn’t for sympathy, but rather to point out my reation wasn’t sadness as I had thought (as in when I witnessed Steve confess this same crime to Miranda)…it was shame and pure madness that he had respected me so little.

And, that got me to thinking…is infidelity actually about the sexual or rather that need for connection that gets lost in relationships over the years through marriage, family  and kids, bills and debt, goals and dreams? Or are we all a bunch of savages?

How do you cope with keeping the insecurities tucked ‘far, far, away’?

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Is it just me or does Target have WAY TOO MANY handicap parking spaces? Now, don’t get me wrong…I don’t have anything against handicap folks or the need for handicap parking spaces, but come on is it really necessary to have sooooo many?

Call me crazy, but I think that Target is a bit excessive in their attempt to appease the handicap population. It makes me wonder if they were once sued for not having enough parking spaces for the handicap. I mean seriously I counted 20. TWENTY. SPACES.

It never fails that when I arrive I can never find a parking space closer than 5 spaces back. (Although, ironically tonight for the FIRST time EVER, I did find one 2 spaces back….so I guess I should retract that comment.) No, on second thought, this has to be a fluke. Sorta like a slap in the face from God for being inconsiderate and counting out all the handicap spaces. I should be ashamed of myself, but seriously in all my time visiting the Target here, I have never been able to park very close to the entrance. Until. tonight.

Now, this never really matter much to me until I was pregnant. (An expecting parking space sure would have been nice. Of course, who cares about us mothers!) And, then in the first 4 months before I braved using the Baby Bjorn, hauling his car seat over to the cart across the parking lot and adjusting it to the unwilling seating area was painful enough to say the least. It was an ordeal that took a good ten minutes. Then, I worried relentlessly that his car seat may suddenly fall off the cart if a sudden move occurred or say, I let go for more than two seconds. No make that one second. Yes, I am a bit compulsive. I know this and I admit it. 

But, hey this isn’t about me and my tendencies- so, let’s get back on point. I think the biggest complaint I have from the parking spaces are that they are usually empty and the other twenty non handicap spaces that are located sparingly around the handicap spaces are ALL full. What would this tell the logical thinking person?

On a happier note, I did purchase a pretty red ‘green bag’ from Target with a cute design on it. Isn’t it cute and only .99 cents. It’s just as roomy as my others, too.

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So, I guess this means we’re even. I will take my bag and succumb to the overwhelming number of handicap parking spaces for the sake of being green. And, while I am at it, I will be THANKFUL that I do not need to use one of those parking spaces. So there, hopefully I have redeemed myself for being so unkind. 😉

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That’s what I want to tell my OBgyn.

Or if I had the chance I would like to say, “No thanks, I’ve had enough…but thank you for asking.” Because, obviously doctors these days think that your maternity and delivery charges are the dessert after giving birth.

I would like to inform them that this is certainly NOT the case. Unless it’s dessert that been thrown-up. Sorry, I know that’s not the mental picture you were hoping for.

So where does this angst come from you ask?

Well, even though we were told upfront that our bill would be X amount of dollars and after being harassed to pay (I kid you not) and then being threatened (again I kid you not) when I was oh, 7 months pregnant that they would drop me (this part is just a little bit my fault…seems my PREGNANT hormones were rude to the office assistant on the Friday she called, yet the doctor really had no business threatening a PREGNANT woman on a Monday morning at 8 a.m., either) I was hysterical over it, Bryan had to get on the phone I was crying so much. Luckily, there were 2 doctors in my practice or it might have been more embarrassing. Yeah, I had the very best doctors. Ever. Ever. In the whole wide world. Oh wait, no wonder I had all those birthing issues, huh? On second thought, maybe I got a really bad case of karma.

Anyway, after that fiasco when I was 7 months PREGNANT, you would think like any other red blooded American that we were done and owed nothing else to them. You would think that, right?

Wrong.

We received a new bill this past month for $451 extra dollars. Something about they had a hold on our deductible and was waiting for the hospitals charges to kick in. But it didn’t. Are you sure about that? I really wish I had reserved that rude can of whip arse for this moment, but I am still learning how to pick my battles. So, I started doing the research and I added up all that we had paid up to the harassment incident plus the lump sum we payed after the harassment issue (the amount that was to supposed to settle the bill per the office manager-yes we are now speaking with the office manager). Guess what?!!? This amount is about $50 over what our insurance states we are responsible for and the amount we were originally given!

Now tell me, am I missing something?

We have to call on Monday…no, nix that…BRYAN will be calling on Monday to talk to them about the matter. I don’t think I would be the best suited for the job.

I will be sure to update you guys on what goes down.

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Disclaimer: The following details/pictures maybe graphic in nature to some. And the post is pretty long. Ok, there I warned you.

I have wanted to post the story of Garrett’s birth for awhile now. I have read and watched so many birthing stories and always hoped to share my own. Yet, even after starting this blog, I was hesitant to share.

Why you might ask?

Well, there are a few reasons. Although, his birth was beautiful we did have a few complications and these have tainted my fairytale birth. It was hard to get over what happened. I spent an entire month going over and over his entire birth. Did I do something wrong? I would tell the story to anyone and everyone willing to listen, because I needed to release my anger with the hospital where Garrett was delivered. After telling my story to every Dick, Tom and Harry; my anger faded and I realized that although it was not perfect, I had accomplished the birth I had wished for, regardless of the hospital and their incompetence. Plus, I figured people who had heard my story over and over again, were now tired of hearing it. (Namely, my husband, family and close friends). That’s when I decided to wait a bit longer before posting Garrett’s birth story.
However, tonight I have decided it’s time to reflect on his arrival. Which seems fitting, since Garrett turns 4 months old tomorrow. Boy, it seems like ages ago.
Garrett’s due date was April 19th. Thinking back, I believe I knew I would deliver before his due date. I had truly hoped to give birth on my late grandfather’s birthday (it was the same as Garrett’s due date), I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I had been wrong on the sex of the baby, but on this I was right. I was still working into my 9th month and remember thinking one day while at work, “How will I know that I am in labor and will I be working when it happens?” I think I ended up calling every mom I knew in those last few weeks trying to get a handle on what exactly contractions would feel like! I probably drove some folks crazy or least I’m sure a few of them had a good laugh at my desperation in needing to know. But after all, I was going to attempt Garrett’s birth au naturale and so I needed to be as prepared as possible for what was to come.
The week before Garrett was born I was very bloated and as big as a house. Of course, with the amount of food I was consuming at this point, it’s no wonder he came early. We were given a shower the Saturday before (March 29th) at my husband’s work – and many predicted in jest that I would deliver the following day. Although, I didn’t give birth the next day, small contractions did begin that week and always while I was working. They started irregular and in my back. I was confused at first as to what exactly they were and called my family and friends to alert them that I was concerned that this might mean labor would be soon. I’m not for sure anyone even believed me, because of that old adage that supposedly you rarely deliver early with your first.
Bryan’s father’s birthday was April 2nd– and on this day I had stronger and longer contractions in my back. I was tempted to go to the hospital, but rested for awhile and eventually they subsided. The next day, was a Thursday and I had to drive 45 minutes to my doctor (his partner was out of town, which meant only the Georgetown office was open). I insisted that I was having minor contractions, yet he refused to check and see if I was dilated. He thought it was unnecessary. (He was going out of town the next day.) The ride home was nerve racking as I experienced cramping that came in waves for the entire trip and this time they were in the front. Yet, again they ended as abruptly as they had arrived.
The next day, on April 4th I went to work. I remembered telling folks, I was ready for Garrett to come! Little did I know, he would arrive in a little over 24 hours.
That evening I came home famished! I literally stuffed myself. That’s probably what pushed Garrett over the edge and made him decide he was ready! He didn’t have anymore room! Bryan had went out after work with his friends, his last ‘boys night out’ for sometime. (Funny thing is, I had insisted for a couple of weeks that he needed to go out soon before Garrett made his arrival) Bryan came home late that night-about 2:30-ish. I remember him coming in and chatting a bit in bed with me about his night out and how all he could talk about with his friends was how excited he was that Garrett would be here soon! He was a bit drunk. Thinking back, as he spoke to me, I became nauseous…I guess I smelled alcohol on his breath (even though I had no sense of smell during my pregnancy and still don’t have it back 100%).
By this time, Bryan was falling asleep and I quietly thought to myself, “Hmmm, could that mean what I think it does?” It wasn’t worth alerting him just yet. I needed him to get some rest! Luckily, it subsided enough that I was able to fall asleep, too.
I woke up around 6:30 am to what I first thought was stomach pains. I laid in bed trying to get a feel for what was taking place- it was unlike anything I had experienced before, not the cramps before and not even painful, these were more like waves of movement. I stayed in bed for about an hour timing how often they came and realized they were every 10 minutes and were very consistent.
I knew that this was it, so I calmly got up and started trying to complete 1,000 things we hadn’t got around to finishing yet! I was LITERALLY painting letters (a present for a fellow pregnant girlfriend that I have yet to give her) for the first hour, then I washed clothes and cleaned house. I was determined that we would have everything in order. During this time, I managed to have my ‘bloody show’ twice by 9:45 am and the contractions were now 6-7 minutes apart. At this point, I would have to stop and be still for a few moments as the contraction passed. I knew it was time to finally wake up Bryan. (It was the 2nd bloody show and the closeness in contractions that startled me into getting serious about this birth!)
I remember I yelled for him at first and then went in and out of the bedroom all the while telling him it was time to go. Bryan was still drunk I believe, because his first reaction was to ask “Time to go where?” and then, “Do we have a Doctor’s appointment?” I quickly explained to him that it was time to have our son, that I was in labor, but wanted to vacuum and shower before we left for the hospital. He asked, “You want to what? You want to vacuum?” To which, I announced, “NO, I want you to vacuum.” I ran around packing our bag at this point! We hadn’t even ‘officially’ packed a bag and I really had no clue as to what I should put in it. Anything I thought about putting in a bag seemed pointless to me. What would I really need, other than the phone, a camera, toothbrush, socks and a nightgown? I couldn’t think straight. All I could think of was this little guy getting ready to make his entrance and that I wasn’t for sure if I was really ready yet!
I mean I was, but I had so many more things I wanted to do around the house…
By 11:00 am I had lost more of my bloody show and the contractions were down to 4-5 minutes apart. Under Bryan’s persistence, I showered (had Bryan had his way I wouldn’t have even done this!) and we finally took off for the hospital. I truly would have stayed at the house a little while longer if I could have. I was determined to get to the hospital and be past 4 centimeters! We still hadn’t called our doula and we hadn’t went over my birth plan again, this time it was going to be in writing. (Which we were scheduled to do that very day at 1pm).
We called Vanessa (our doula) as we arrived at the hospital. It was around 11:30 by this time. It took the hospital about 30 minutes to get me omitted and checked into my room, even though I was preregistered. (I should have known we were headed for a bumpy ride). Unfortunately, I had to be hooked up to everything (which was not a part of my birth plan…I had tested positive for group strep B and would need antibiotics before he was born). I also knew neither of my doctors would be delivering Garrett as they had a rotation in place with another practice- I went into labor on the other practice’s rotation. They also cover 2 hospitals, the other is 45 minutes from the one I was in. No problem, there were always 2 doctors on call in case 2 births were taking place at the same time, or at least we thought…
Once I was in the room, my nurse checked me and found that I was dilated to a 4 and 1/2 and that I was 80% effaced. Finally, my doula arrived and started filling in a pseudo birth plan for us to follow. The nurse then offered an epidural, but I managed along without as the contractions continued. At this point, they were pretty intense but not unbearable- I had Bryan and Vanessa there to coach me on and could still talk during them. Vanessa has started playing Enya, a very relaxing Celtic like music, along with other similar cds. By 4:00 pm I was checked again and the nurse told us that I was close to 7 cm and 90% effaced. We were also told that the doctor was in Georgetown, but would be here shortly. (Is that so?)
Sometime between 4 and 7, which consisted of a lot of breathing and sitting on a birthing ball, Bryan left to shower. Labor slowed during this time, I guess I wasn’t going to give birth without him! Once he was back, our friend Danny showed up dressed as Superman, seems he thought it could help deliver our little guy for us!

My contractions were beginning to really pick up, so he only stayed long enough to get a few good giggles out of me. As he stood there for a few minutes, a huge contraction hit me and I’m sure he realized at that point it was time for him to leave. The fun was over. As I changed positions often from the birthing ball to leaning on Bryan, Vanessa coached Bryan on ways he could help relieve the pressure of the baby making his way down the birth canal. She would rub my back as Bryan pressed firmly on my hips. It was a sweet relief. I would hold and lean on Bryan as contractions came. Although contractions were painful, the two of them made it much better. I found myself in my own world working through the contractions, envisioning baby being born.
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Well by 7pm, my contractions were right on top of one another and many of the numerous positions I chose weren’t working, so at my request the nurse checked and I was at 8+. I just knew I had to be getting close! Shortly after she checked me and with a little push from me, my water broke all over the place. It was as if someone open the flood gates because it literally gushed out! Things became really crazy, as I progressed very very quickly. It was all I could do to just hold Bryan and Vanessa’s hands during the contractions, they were in waves, crashes into me. It felt as if my whole body was moving and transforming. Bryan later told me that I was only grunting the whole time. I never yelled, not even when Garrett was born. I think this is because it’s somewhat of a dance, back and forth- both baby and mommy are dancing together and it’s important that mommy is in deep concentration to help this dance flow.
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Anyhow, it was obviously that the nurse wasn’t ready for my progression. She checked my cervix again and this time told us that I was a 9+ and 95% effaced. Ok, well I was definitely feeling the urge to push-but, this lady starts telling me that I can’t push, that I need to stop because it isn’t time yet.
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It wasn’t time yet? Hello, are you giving birth? Can you feel what I am feeling?
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In the matter of a couple of seconds, this lady made my birth go from peaceful and beautiful to frantic and stressful. The next 20 minutes consisted of me fighting my body’s natural impulses because she was telling me I would hurt my cervix otherwise. Well, okay maybe I was in transition, I was shaking, but I was also having the most intense urge to push, I felt my body tell me its time to have this baby.
*
Who is more likely right, a nurse or me? And, that’s when I began questioning myself- at this point, you are so consumed by the contractions that what your thinking is hard to convey to the outside world. You literally feel as if your trapped in your body or having an outer body experience. I did tell her no several times, but she made me begin the ‘breathing technique of hee hee hee‘, which only confused me more. This was the most agonizing 20 minutes of my entire life. I felt so helpless, I think Bryan could see it in my eyes- during this, he went outside our room to the nurse’s station and yelled at the nurses that the doctor needed to get here because it was time and that he knew I knew I was ready, so where was the doctor, exactly? He told me this weeks later.
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Question is, why were they making me wait? Supposedly I was still at a 9 1/2 and only 95 % effaced…even after 20 minutes….ok, whatever.
Aside from being hooked up to every thing possible that you can imagine, and receiving antibiotics for GBS+, and being told to stop pushing, the nurse made me lay down in the bed- which was the most uncomfortable position in the whole world. We were just fine sitting up and using the birthing rail!! But, no I was forced to get into ‘their’ position. I did manage to sit back up in the bed squatting as Bryan and Vanessa held me up on each side. But, my concentration was being broken, it took me a few times to get back into any rhythm….I was so tired now.
Our room became a madhouse and things were really hectic and crazy, it was the changing of shifts. There must have been at least and I am not lying 8 nurses in our room. What the heck was going on? Lo and behold, if the doctor didn’t finally show up from the other hospital! Did this doctor think she was swooping in to save me in just the nick of time…oh, please! (It started pouring rain outside, too and you could see the lightning out the window). The doctor had me change positions again, she didn’t like not being able to see anything, I suppose.
I was absolutely beat now, from all that ‘don’t push nonsense’ that I needed oxygen to even be able to efficiently push. I pushed about 9 times, when the doctor said that my angel’s heartbeat dropped. (I question this now, as the monitor was having issues keeping Garrett’s heartbeat the whole time I was there from 11:30 that morning). I remember a frantic room, the doctor yelling to prep the O.R. AND before I knew it, she was giving me a catheter! What tha?
At that moment, I said I don’t think so! This baby is coming out NOW and he’s coming NATURALLY. I started pushing with all my might- the doctor pulled out forceps (seems my little guy was stuck SIDEWAYS*, but no one told us) and kindly assisted.
*Sidenote* I found this out by obtaining my medical records four weeks postpartum.
Shortly after, I felt his head with my hand and even looked down and saw his head pop out sideways! He was bright-eyed and looking around! Imagine that! Crazy, heh? Especially for a baby who’s heartbeat dropped!! And with another push our sweet baby was born at 7:43 pm. Bryan cut the cord and he was placed upon me. He weighed in at 7 lbs and 1.2 ounces and was 19 3/4 inches long.

His apgar scores were 8 and 9. Are you sure his heartbeat dropped? Maybe all this occurred because my baby’s head was turned sideways and no one told us and just maybe it had to do with 3 nurses trying to reinsert my IV’s as I was pushing! Or maybe it had to do with me not being able to push because there wasn’t a doctor there to assist in the delivery? And maybe it was because the doctor decided to show up only 23 minutes before Garrett was born…just maybe. But what do I know? I’m only the lady that gave birth to her son.

Life was wonderful at this point, I was very exhausted, but enjoying our little boy with Bryan. He was absolutely perfect.

Of course, the doctor had to ruin our fun, she decided that this would be a great opportunity to start stitching me up where I tore.* “Oh, you’re used to delivering all those woman who give birth and have epidurals, I see.” Let me just tell each and everyone of you that her stitching me up was MORE painful than my whole labor. I am not joking either. I was in so much pain and the doctor looked at me like I was crazy when I asked her to numb me!

*Sidenote* I tore at the catheter’s location…and this is how I landed a UTI STAPH infection.

So you see, Garrett came into this world abruptly under the guise of incompetent nurses and doctors that thought they knew what was best for me and my son. Maybe they did know, but when you don’t communicate those needs to those involved, then your efforts are lost! Things get mucked up and the one person that is actively participating in the birth gets left behind. Her labor becomes a joke and her wishes get lost in what you expect for all your other patients. This is when patients, regardless of their birth plan, drug or no drug choices become a dollar sign and birth becomes a BUSINESS* and not a miracle.
*Reference to the documentary, The Business of Being Born.

Thanks Waccamaw Community Hospital. I will never deliver or seek treatment with you again.
There I said it and I feel much better. I guess I am still bitter. But, only because they stole a very precious moment from me. I am blessed he is healthy and I think that his birth was beautiful. I feel rewarded for going without drugs, but wish it could have been peaceful, too.
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If anything I hope my story helps others to be more aware, less passive and question more doctors and hospitals about their practices, beliefs, policies, etc…I know I will next time. I will have a midwife & doula and not a doctor. I will birth in a birthing center or at home. Because this is my body, my womb and my baby. I could have never done this without the support and love of Bryan or the comfort and direction of our doula, Vanessa. Both, were so very important.
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If you made it this far, you deserve something. Seriously…that was almost as painful as the stitches.

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I want my body back. Pretty peas, with sugar on top. I promise to take care it from now on.

I have come to the realization that my body will never be the same as it was before baby. It’s really simply a tiny fact in the scheme of things and I accept that. What I don’t accept is how broken I feel. I mean I thought pregnancy was uncomfortable, but now I think I can count my ailments on both hands and probably could continue to my toes. Some are of a private and unnecessary to disclose nature and others are the typical ‘my belly is now jelly’ type.

Yet, considering that a life is created within your womb and pushed out a very small area tends to remind me that maybe that’s why I have ailments that perplex me, birth surely does a wacky number to the female body. I recommend that anyone contemplating babies, make sure they are in excellente health before even attempting it, otherwise you might be broadcasting your aches and pains 11 months later all over the Internet, with absolutely no shame.

Here’s my top ten aftermath of childbirth: Which most likely are related, but are in no particular order.

10. Eczema and the inability to wear my wedding or engagement ring
9. No sense of smell (I sure hope the baby doesn’t smell)
8. A corn in the same toe on both feet
7. Horrible sciatica down my legs
6. Misaligned back (Yes, that’s me walking hunched over)
5. An ever-expanding midsection
4. Loss of memory
3. Unexplained bruises
2. Cracked and dry lips
1. Fill in the blank because it will probably be on my list tomorrow

And I didn’t even list the most annoying and painful one of them all. Be thankful I didn’t share that one.

Thanks for sympathizing in advance. Lord knows, I need it.

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