FOUR!

We had Kirk’s birthday party this weekend. I was impressed that he understands it wasn’t his “real” birthday. I had explained that people have to work on his birthday this year so we were having his party on the weekend so people could come and bring him presents. Lots of presents.





I’m never organized enough to make actual goodie bags for the kids but I did pick up some random crap stuff for them to play with during the party. Mini-frisbees, bubbles, and candy necklaces.



We actually planned ahead and got a Star Trek cake. How cool is it that they have Star Trek cakes standard at the Target bakery right now? Love it when there’s a new movie out and kicking box office ass.



Apparently it was exceptionally tasty cake.



Young Miss V had fun being passed around.



But she crapped out hard when we all had quiet time after the party.



My sister and her family stuck around and that evening we walked up to the local Jamboree for fireworks and carnival rides. Mr. b was the best Drunk Uncle of all time and bought the kids shitloads of glow-in-the-dark bullshit. By the time we all got back home, my sister decided to give in to her girls’s constant begging to sleep over. So the tent went up in the backyard and Mr. b, Kirk, A1, and A2 all spent the night out there. I think Kirk’s still wrecked even today.

Current Events

No means no. No I’m serious. It really does. When I tell you to stop jumping next to your sister, you need to stop. When I tell you to stop climbing the side of the couch, that doesn’t mean you should do it again. One more time is not an option. You need to quit.

Bundle slept basically through the night. I got her down about 10pm and she didn’t start to stir until nearly 5am. I don’t expect it to last but it was a pleasant surprise!

I’m really overthinking party times for Kirk’s Fourth Birthday Party.

The little girl is rolling over. It’s largely unintentional but it’s also pretty regular. She’ll be startled by her sudden back position after having just been propped up on her tummy and it’ll freak her out. Ronnie also likes to curl up on her side when lying on her back and is starting to move into tummy time from there. So both ways. Time to dig out the baby gate. And make sure the floors are cleaner. Ugh.

Kirk has a workaround for hate speech. He is not allowed to shout, “I don’t like you Mama” or Daddy or anyone else. So when he’s pissed he’ll bust out with, “I don’t like everyone.” It’s kind of hilarious. And who hasn’t had those moments of extreme misanthropy?

When I leave my nursing pads out they end up of the floor by morning. I figured one of the cats was playing with them but I wasn’t sure which one. Last night I saw Squeakers Squirrel sniffing at them. I guess it makes sense she’d be interested in the sweet smell of dried on boobie milk.

The kids are usually the last ones there when I drop them off at daycare. All the others gather around Veronica in her carseat while I help Kirk get his shoes, and hoodie if he’s wearing one, off and put away. Then he gives me at least one of the following: a hug, a kiss, a high five, a fist bump (blow it up), a nose rub. Sometimes I get all five. Then I give the Bundle a kiss and I’m off.

Kirk is starting to sometimes claim he “had a bad dream”, about twenty seconds after he’s been put to bed. Not falling for it.

Sleeping Arrangements

Last night was Bundle’s second night in her crib in her brother’s room. So far, so good. I mean, it’s a work in progress, obviously, but we’re getting there. Kirk’s got a set bedtime ritual and once the routine is completed, he’s done. It’s easy to move bedtime up when necessary, just by starting procedures earlier. Ronnie, however, just eats and eats and eats and eats and then passes out. There’s no real adjustments possible. She’s generally sacked by 10:30, though it can happen earlier. So basically, I just sneak into the sleeping boy’s room, put the sleeping baby in her crib, and sneak back out. We’ve got the monitor set up so I’ll go fetch her when she wakes up in the 2am-4am range to eat again. Theoretically she could then go back but since we’ve mastered the laying down nursing position I generally just keep her in bed with me until I have to get up anyways.

I think the trick is going to be those nights where she falls asleep earlier and he’s wound up and talking to himself in his bed for two hours. We’ll see what happens.

Eye Boogers

Ronnie had her first non-weight check or well baby related doctor’s visit yesterday. She woke up with her right eye crusted shut. It had been sort of boogery/mucusy on and off for the previous two days but never really that bad. She hasn’t had a fever or any other signs of sickness, other than a slight cough, so I hadn’t been worried about her. But even though having your eye that crusty is a pretty legitimate reason to go in to the doctor, I still wondered if I was just being an alarmist parent.

Doc didn’t seem to think I brought her in unnecessarily. He prescribed some eye drops, which I suck at administering. Babies have such immature sinuses that mucus can only really escape through the tear ducts and that in turn can cause an eye infection. I’m just glad that her first sickness is an easy one.

Science!

Last night Kirk stepped on his sister. On her chest. The thing is, he wasn’t being malicious. But it also wasn’t an accident. He was experimenting. I was in the kitchen and I heard Bundle scream out in pain. When I turned around I saw him bent down and giving her kisses. It took a second to register that he had done something before I started in with the accusations. “What did you do to her?!”

When he admitted he stepped on her I had to ask where and he rubbed her chest. So then I had to check to make sure everything felt OK before I picked her up to comfort her. I asked if it was an accident and I could see the wheels turning before he answered no. Yeah right. If it had been a foot or hand I could buy accident. Hell, even arm or leg. But not chest.

After Mr. b got home from school I found out that Kirk had been testing the waters earlier. He had apparently been lightly resting his foot on her, removing it quickly when his father saw what he was doing. So clearly it had been on his mind for a while. That helps explain why he didn’t seem very remorseful. But he knew he was in trouble and he brushed his teeth extra good last night as a peace offering.

This is only the beginning of the sibling fun.

Dead TV

I’ve always been a fan of reading the source material for movies. Not just sci-fi and fantasy but anything really. I think I first developed the habit after seeing “Howard’s End” and then equally adoring the book. I enjoy rereading each Harry Potter before its movie comes out and trying to guess the changes that the screenwriters had to make. It’s gotten to the point where I will read something I’ve been vaguely aware of or “meaning to” get to and once I hear that an adaptation is in the works then I’ll hurry up and check it out of the library.

I’ve been stuck in a vampire fiction rut for a good year now. It’s easy. And there are so many series to choose from that once I start one I don’t have to think very hard about what my next book will be. Check out the next one in the list!

Well, now it seems these two things are converging on me. Only not movie adaptions but rather television. The only television series that I’ve also read the source books from is The Dresden Files. I saw the show before I started reading the books and I haven’t gone back to rewatch the episodes to see how closely they hewed to the novels. I am aware of some character changes but I’ve got the two mentally categorized as fairly separate entities so it doesn’t really bother me. Plus, since I am already in the habit of doing mental script adaptations, I think I’m much more accepting of necessary alterations than the typical rabid fanatic.

I started reading the Southern Vampire Mysteries, also known as the Sookie Stackhouse series, once I found out that HBO’s show True Blood was based on them. The DVDs of the first season just came out and I’m excited to start watching. I’m hesitant, however, because I don’t wait to spoil myself – for the show or for the books! I’ve only read the first three and I don’t know how much the show has deviated from the plots. This should be my first experiment. The next series to be adapted is Anita Blake. I’ve gotten through the first four of those and the mini-series-as-series-pilot hasn’t even been filmed yet. So I should be quite a ways into it by the time it airs. The final series, however, I think I’ll skip entirely. I think I might be past the suggested read-by age for The Vampire Diaries. Sure, I devoured Twilight but then I turned into an LOLfan after that ghastly fourth offering. And the CW show they’re basing on the books seems just too…Twilight angst times Gossip Girl teens and I don’t know that I can take it. Boone on Lost did nothing for me so having him cast as a vamp is just not enough of a draw. Should be interesting to see if it makes as big of a splash in the zeitgeist as Twilight did.

Role Playing

Kirk likes to act out movies and TV shows. Sometimes he’ll play the roles, like when he’s the Doctor, and sometimes he’ll use props, like his millions of Cars vehicles. If he doesn’t have any proper merch then he’ll use whatever he can find. He managed to gather together stand-ins for all the characters from the Brave Little Toaster, and plays with them in the kitchen because that’s where the toaster is.



Most frequently he’ll want to play musicians. This has been going on for a good couple of years now. He used to wear a gaudy plastic ring so he could be Ringo Starr. He used to wear a crapped out cowboy hat so he could be Dave Gahan. He’s got his own kid-sized guitar and sings along to videos and has great rock stance. But he always comes back to the drummers. He always wants to know who the drummer is when he’s introduced to a new band. He always wants to be able to see the drummer whether we’re watching American Idol or the Rolling Stone’s Rock n Roll Circus.

Since his only drums are a plastic baby toy set he got for like his first birthday (shhhh, we’re pricing out proper mini-kits), he likes to use anything and everything available. I’m not sure if the old diaper genie was promoted to drum status or if that’s a demotion since it was previously playing the role of a Dalek…



Poor Ringo has most definitely lost out on Favorite Drummer status. That honor now belongs to Nick Mason of Pink Floyd. Kirk’s fascination with volcanoes gets to crossover with his rock knowledge thanks to Pink Floyd: Live at Pompeii. He loves watching Roger Waters slowly walk over to the gong during the prog madness. And he quite literally plays Saucerful of Secrets: The Game. He’s Nick of course. He’ll even make Mr. b sit down on the ground and use a busted off piece of lightsaber as a slide to properly portray David Gilmore.

Bathing Beauty

I have never given my daughter a bath. I'm not sure how it's ended up that way but there you go. They've all been administered by her daddy. In fact, Ronnie has graduated from the sink to the bathtub and I still haven't bathed her myself.

The End of an Era

Well, it’s over now. I’m nearing the end of Day Two back at work.

Last Friday Bundle had her Two Month well baby appointment. Everything looks good. She’s now at 10 pounds 3 ounces (over 4 pounds gained!) and 23 inches long (nearly 5 inches!) and has a little head (in the tenth percentile). Doc reiterated that he thinks her sporadic pooping is just her own preference. He asked lots of questions about it and thinks it sounds normal, though not common. Her belly button sticks out super far and that’s due to a small hernia; again normal and should heal itself without any intervention from us. She got her first shots, complete with Real Tears, and that’s about it. Oh, and she does seem like being a redhead is a real possibility. Especially in the sunlight there is definite auburn hair going on.

Grandma and Grandpa stayed with us until Sunday before flying back to Texas. It seemed like little Ronnie underwent an emotional growth while they were here: she smiles for real now! I love that part. Nothing like an infant’s genuine pleasure. I love it when she’s suckling away and then suddenly grins on the boob. But it also means that she’s moving into the part where she doesn’t think it exists if she can’t see it and so separation anxiety begins. Which makes my going back to work even harder.

Drop off yesterday morning went well. Of course she didn’t know what was coming. C said she ate well and didn’t need the breast milk I had sent with as comfort food just in case. So I’ll be freezing the milk I pump during the day at work. So far I’m pumping twice a day and getting quite a lot. I have a little picture of my bundle on the pump case and a snippet of her fussing saved on my phone so I can trigger the mental impulses to start the milk flowing. I should bring some of her used laundry to smell, too, but that seems like work. But even with the pressure relieved mechanically, I was still desperate for her to get back on the breast as soon as we got home. Mr. b and Kirk were heading to the store and after looking at us nursing on the couch just chuckled and said, “You two have fun.” Still, it took some time before she seemed like “mine” again. She just didn’t look at me the same way when I picked her up in the afternoon.

To just get it all over with at once I’ve also begun crib training. Well, not precisely. I don’t want to disturb her brother’s sleep in their room so instead it’s technically bassinet training. Same method we used with Kirk though: put the Bundle in her bundle bin rolled into our darkened bedroom, let her cry for X number of minutes, go in and comfort her, put her back down, wait for a longer period, go back in, and so on. It only took a few tries and then she slept soundly for a good solid four hours. She’s been a very noisy sleeper all along and prone to only sleeping on the boob or resting on one of our chests so I think this is a great first try. Hopefully when she’s too big for the bin she’ll already be used to sleeping by herself and the transition to the crib will be relatively easy.

I do feel kind of like I’m betraying her trust though. Leaving her with a stranger all day and then not even holding her all night. But hey, I still keep her in bed with me once she wakes up to nurse. Now that we’ve got the laying down position figured out good enough it’s easier to just roll over and switch her from side to side as she wants more boobie. And she was in a good mood this morning, even falling asleep on the “lengthy” five block drive to daycare, so I guess she’ll forgive me eventually. One day at a time.

Three Things

1) Kirk started his new daycare on Monday. Things seem to be going well. It's definitely more structured than his old daycare but I think that's a good thing. It also feels somehow more "official" because there were forms to fill out. We walked there this morning and yesterday morning. I love that it's walking distance! Kirk still talks about his old gang when confabulating but I'm sure the new kids will start getting mentions after he's been there a while.

2) We bought a new car Monday night. It's a 2009 Pontiac Vibe. Our '99 Jetta, Otto Rodriguez, had been dying a slow death for the past year or so. If it was just Mr. b and I we probably would have continued to limp him along for a while yet. But we're a one car family and we need something 100% reliable now that there are kids in the picture. It's just slightly bigger but enough to make a difference with two carseats in the back.

3) Mr. b's parents are flying up from Texas this afternoon! They haven't met their new granddaughter yet. We're all very excited to see them. Kirk is looking forward to taking them to Target and pointing out everything that he wants that his mean mama and daddy won't buy for him. They're only here through Sunday so the visit is going to go way too fast. And then when they're gone it means I have to go back to work.

Child Garden

Friday morning we took Kirk in for his Kindergarten pre-screening testing. It's required by the state of Minnesota for all children attending public schools. There were three parts to the screening: mental development, physical development, and bureaucracy.

We had a lot of paperwork to fill out, some of it immediately identified by Mr. b as remnants of the "progressive" programs instituted by New Dealers. Then we all went in to meet with the first of three ladies. She had Kirk build small towers of blocks, do some counting, pick the correct opposites, match shapes, do simple drawing, things like that. As a parent it was incredibly difficult to keep my mouth shut. I wanted to nudge him in the right direction, give him hints, or simply laugh at his hilarious attempts or failures. There were several instances where he got something wrong that he knows perfectly well how to do. But I suppose having the patience to go through this process is part of the whole "readiness" idea.

Next we went to get his eyes checked. That seemed silly to me since obviously Kirk wears glasses. He wasn't interested in their old school vision chart and the lack of friendliness on the part of the woman administering this portion of the exam certainly didn't help. We gave up on that and tried to do the hearing test. But she accidentally stepped on Kirk's foot and he cried and cried and cried and we gave up on that, too. I have two forms for medical professionals to fill out now. He's got his eye check-up next week but the hearing one will have to wait for his next physical in July. I remember doing all these tests in elementary school and really enjoying the hearing one especially. Mr. b says he remembers them, too.

Lastly we met with a lady to review all the results. Kirk's age bracket, 3.8-3.9 years, needed to score an 18 out of 48 on the mental stuff. He got a 32. So no worries there. Basically, everything is on track and there are no areas of concern. We found out which elementary school he'll attend - and that he'll ride the bus - and that's about it. It was an interesting process and definitely a milestone. It's hard to believe I'll have a "school aged" child soon but he'll start Kindergarten next year!

Yay Poop!

Tonight Bundle finally pooped. It had been six days. A couple of weeks ago she stopped going several times a day - or even every day. After three days she had a major blow out and things have been irregular ever since. This was the longest wait, however, and I had actually called the doctor earlier this week. We were advised to mix in one ounce of prune juice with three ounces of formula or milk, once a day. It totally looked like cappucino. Thankfully it only took two of them. If she hadn't pooped by today I would have had to call Doc back.

I have no idea what caused this though. I've heard the theory that the baby is growing and using up every last bit of caloric energy and therefore not having anything to excrete. That seemed reasonable to me when it was just once. My dad loves telling the story of me being constipated as an infant and "popping like a cork". But that doesn't really match Ronnie's issue. I think we're going to be doomed to repeat nqllisi's experience with her daughter: a month of repeated poo strikes and prune juice treatments. I'll ask Doc for his insight at her two month appointment next week. And...I guess we'll just have to see what tomorrow's diaper holds.

A Family Matter

When my mom was first diagnosed with MS in 1986 no one knew what it was. Very few people had even heard of it, much less knew what it stood for. At age 11, I quickly developed a short speech to explain it to my friends. Since then we've come a long way. It seems like everyone knows of someone with MS - when it used to be somewhat kept under wraps. Celebrities with MS have come out and advocated for understanding and continued research. You can help. I'm a notorious procrastinator and once again, the walk is this coming Sunday! I apologize for the short notice but donations will be taken until May 29th. I appreciate any help you feel willing to give.
Thanks in advance!

Consider a pledge to end multiple sclerosis and support me during Walk MS: Twin Cities Walk 2009.

MS stops people from moving. The National MS Society exists to make sure it doesn’t. Please help by making a donation — large or small — to move closer to a cure for MS. Or, why not join me on the day of the event? Become a participant and side by side, as teammates, we will move together to raise the funds that make a difference.

Whatever you can give will help. I greatly appreciate your support and will keep you posted on my progress.

Click here to visit my personal page and make a secure, online donation.

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Me and Bundle McGee

Friday night Mr. b's band played the fashion show in the Twin Cities. We had planned on me attending this event since he first got the gig, sometime last fall. I've been out a couple of times since having Ronnie, once with the mister and once with the girls, but this was going to be major. We arranged to have the kids sleep over at my sister's house. We took the bus so we could both drink without concern. And it was a ton of fun.

But sometime during the second or third band (each band had two designer's lines shown during their set, here's the first during Mercurial Rage and here are some clips of the entire evening) I got a text from my sister. "What time do you think you will be done? Bundle really needs her mom." Well shit. That put a bit of a damper on things. But what was I supposed to do? I replied that there was still several bands left and that neither of us would be able to drive anyway. So she offered to come and get us.

Ultimately it was no big deal. We stayed until the end of the music and fashion and got a chance to talk to nearly all of our friends in attendance while waiting for my sister to show up. I had stopped drinking - and had only had three at that point anyway - once I first got the word from her so I could safely nurse Veronica once we got home. But it also made me think and I had a bit of a revelation: I am not ready to go back to work.

This was supposed to be my last week of leave. Eight weeks is not enough. So I talked to my manager and I'm taking one more. Sure, nine weeks isn't really *that* much more but I think it's going to make all the difference in the world. I'm still going to have a much harder time going back than after my leave with Kirk. I had 12 or 13 weeks then and he went to Auntie Daycare so I was able to convince myself he was merely hanging out with his cousins. This will feel much more painful and final. I am going to bawl my eyes out on the way to work that first morning.

Free Music!

Mr. b's fantastic band, Mercurial Rage, has a new single out today!

Mercurial Rage have been raising the roof around here for the last couple years with their uniquely infectious, ultra danceable sounds. Taking influence from the finest exponents of electronic pop’s first Golden Age (think Depeche Mode, The Cure, and dance-rock bands like Happy Mondays and Primal Scream), The Rage add their own totally unique lyrical stamp and jaunty melodic personality.

Download their awesome three-sided-single here!

Recovery

Well, now I can go back to work. I don't want to but I have my doctor's OK. How the hell did I afford such a long leave with Kirk?

My post-partum check-up went smoothly. Everything's healing as it should be. I guess there are still some stitches that haven't fully dissolved but they're the inner most ones. I'm pretty sure I tore during delivery - 5 minutes of pushing goes extremely fast and I don't remember them making me pause for an episiotomy like last time. I noticed that Doc was referring to some notes in my file throughout my visit and I finally got a glimpse: it was a summary from the on-call doctor at the maternity ward! I don't know that I even said a single word to her. Doc showed up about 10 minutes after Ronnie was born and while he checked her over, basically all he did was congratulate Mr. b and I and shake our hands.

Since we're absolutely determined not to have an "oops" I definitely wanted to get on birth control right away. Supposedly nursing is about 90% effective, at least until your first period. And the no estrogen mini pill is also about 90% (and won't dry up your milk supply), but combined the two are as good as the regular pill. Doc said I should give the pill a couple of weeks to get into my system and double up on contraception until then. As much as we'd like to get back to normal marital relations, Mr. b and I are both a bit hesitant. I don't remember how long after Kirk's birth we waited.

It seems I had gained a total of 15 pounds from the time of my first ob visit until my final one. And now I'm officially 16 pounds less than that final weigh in. Doc was worried that such rapid weight loss might mean I was too busy taking care of the kids first and forgetting about myself. I assured him I'm eatin' like an eatin' fool. I actually need to make sure I don't go overboard with that. I gained weight after Kirk's birth because while I was nursing some, I wasn't nursing much. But I was ingesting enough calories for full time milk production. I suppose for the moment (the barnacle is attached to my boob as I type this one-handed) I don't really need to be concerned. Everything will change when I go back to work.

Regime Change

We finally found a new daycare. First I was looking into preschools for Kirk but they were all ridiculously expensive if you needed all-day coverage. Then I was looking into centers that had preschool programs as well as infant care but they were all ridiculously expensive. So then I started going through in-home daycares and found that infant openings were rare and precious commodities. We interviewed a lady a couple of weeks ago and really liked her but wanted to do due diligence and check out some other places as well. But our car broke down and we couldn't make it to the next appointment I had set up.

I decided it must be fate. First of all, this new woman is walking distance from us. That's...miraculous actually. And she had given me a phone list of her kids' parents and the ones I spoke to gave her unbelievably glowing reviews. And I was completely and utterly paranoid that we'd loose out on the infant spot if we didn't just jump on it. So Kirk and Ronnie will be starting when I go back to work.

Which means that I gave two weeks notice to K on Monday. I'm going to keep Kirk at home with me and the Bundle my last two weeks of leave. We'll save a little bit of money and it'll give him a more defined transition period. I've been mentioning to him that when his sister is big enough to get to go to daycare he'll get to go with her. And he attended the interview at C's house with us so he got to play with the toys and meet her and seems cool with it all. I know he'll miss his little friends but we can always have play dates.

The thing that I found troubling was that K did not seem in the least bit surprised when I called her to give notice. Granted, it's probably common sense that we wouldn't want to do dual drop-off in the mornings and that we'd want Kirk to be with his sister. But that implies that she would have known that when she gave away our infant spot. She didn't tell either Mr. b or I that we were in competition. That she was interviewing another family. She just announced to me, via email, while I was pregnant that oh, by the way, she won't be able to take the new baby. And that hasn't sat well with me all this time.

Friends and co-workers have been rather vociferous on the subject. But I honestly have only the best things to say about the care that Kirk has been given during his couple of years with her. Yet there have been some other professionalism issues that have come up, all having to do with scheduling. Largely they were the result of miscommunication but it was frequent enough that we actually had to have words about it. And I think that since that point we have been passive aggressively pushed out. Even Mr. b agrees with me on that theory, and he is notoriously unaware of subtext. It's sad and I don't understand why we got that treatment but there it is. So now we'll get to start all over. I'm just glad to have the frantic search completed. I feel really positive about the new place.

What's On My Mind

Ronnie continues to be a champ at nursing. The only position we don't seem to have mastered is laying down in bed; it's good enough that I can catch an hour of sleep before returning her to her bassinet if I'm desperate. She does, however, go through these periods of feeding frenzy every few days where she's chomping at my nipples and demanding boob like every 30 minutes. Usually in the evenings. When I get to the point where I can't take her squirming anymore then I pass her on to her dad. Mr. b has been working on bottle training her. It's slow going but he reminded me that it was hard work with Kirk, too. And she's obviously got to learn.

I'm still not getting much via pumping but I guess I don't care. We can have Ronnie on formula at daycare and I'll continue to pump when I go back to work and that's what we'll have for everything in between.

Kirk continues to be absolutely smitten with his sister. He takes his big brother duties very seriously. If I ask him to watch her for a minute, he'll literally watch her. He loves announcing that she "wants boobie" when she starts to fuss. He's very patient and understanding about the fact that she doesn't do anything yet. He talks about how she's growing and will learn things. It's darling and sweet.

I think we've finally discovered his reversion though. Kirk wants to sleep in our bed a lot again. It's been quite some time since he's done that. If Mr. b happens to be crashed on the couch or downstairs I don't mind because there's enough room, even if Ronnie is next to me instead of in her bundle bin. But all four of us gets crowded! Last night Kirk just brought himself to our bed; I have a vague memory of him showing up and Mr. b just woke up and he was there. The problem was that Kirk apparently thought that if I was awake at 4 am nursing his sister then he could be up and jumping around and telling stories. His father got him put back into his own bed after that.

I took the bundle in for the obligatory visit at work yesterday. I can't believe my leave is already half over.

I'm so ready to start the allowed-to-have-sex-again countdown.

I think I've already lost the miniscule amount of baby weight I gained this time. My pants all fit already. And I haven't even started exercising yet. I plan to start that next week. I can feel the laziness in my muscles. Or at least, I can feel it during those rare moments when I'm well rested. I'm eating like a maniac, however, so I think milk production must be helping. The lactation nurse at the hospital said you need an extra 300 calories a day when you're pregnant but an extra 500 when you're nursing. Damn. I can tell.

I need to investigate the rules for drinking. I've heard that beer can help with milk let down and I'm presuming that means one drink in general and not beer specifically. I figure one drink won't affect the milk. Mr. b has bought me a couple of those flavored Smirnoff thingies and I haven't been able to finish one the two times I've had one. (Of course he bought me tall boys both times and then got to finish them himself so there may have been an ulterior motive there.) I know the phrase "pump and dump" but I don't know the details. At what point does the alcohol hit the milk ducts? Is the milk that's in there when you start drinking fine? What if you can't drain it all or how can you tell it's safe again?

There's a subtle difference to how I view us as a unit now that we have two kids. Before we were a couple that had a son. Now we're a family.

Here's What Happened: Part 2

I think it was about 2:30 pm when we got to the hospital. They decided to conservatively estimate my water breakage as happening at midnight the night before. Therefore I was given a scant two hours to go into labor on my own.

My folks had already been on their way down when we called them from the delivery room so it didn't take them the full hour to arrive. Mr. b and Kirk went back home with Papa to prepare two overnight bags: one for Kirk and one for me. My mom stayed with me. Not that I was worried about having the baby on my own. I just was bored and didn't have so much as a magazine to read! We decided that since I still had another half hour before my deadline that we would walk the halls of the maternity ward and see if that could kick start things. It was weird reminiscing about how things had been laid out when I had Kirk (they were undergoing major remodeling then). I was actually sort of creeped out by the floor. I didn't want to have to hear anyone screaming during their deliveries. Thankfully it was pretty empty then. But every time we passed the doors to the caesarian surgery theater I had to suppress a shudder. I've never been knocked out for anything - heck, I even have all my wisdom teeth - and I've certainly never been cut open. I suppose if it was an emergency I'd get over my hang-up in a hurry but it definitely weirded me out.

I was also a bit freaked out by the prospect of having pitocin. I had never heard anything but horror stories about how it makes everything hurt so much more. So at about 4:30 my time was up and I was going to have to get an IV, thereby tying me to the bed for the rest of the ordeal. I asked the nurse about pitocin as she was trying valiantly to find a vein for the IV (she ended up with the back of my right hand - same spot as for Kirk's delivery). Apparently it's not that it makes labor hurt more. It's that it makes the contractions come on faster and stronger. Seems like a pretty fine distinction to me. But she also assured me that they administer the hormone in stages and that often it doesn't take much to kick start the body into action on its own.

They also put me on antibiotics again. With Kirk it was because I hadn't had the Strep B test yet. Well, we did that early this time and I knew I was negative. But since it had been 18 hours since the presumptive breaking of my sack of waters they wanted to just be on the safe side. Not that it mattered to me; I already had the IV in so just adding something else to it really didn't make any difference.

I definitely started to feel contractions by 5:30pm but they weren't really anything major yet. By this point the boys had returned and I was still able to actively converse. And I was hungry, having missed lunch, but they wouldn't let me eat much of anything. I had some jell-o and some graham crackers, some 7-Up and some water. I had a fetal monitor as well as a contraction monitor strapped to me and I had a button to push every time I felt the girl move. She was pushing her butt out against my right ribs with each contraction. I could actually sense her moving lower by where her butt was hitting!

My parents left with Kirk at about 6:15 pm. I was starting to have to actually focus as each contraction came, though I was still fine in between. They were definitely picking up speed though. The nurse had only turned the pitocin up once so I guess my body had picked up the slack on its own. My cervix had been checked back when I first was admitted and I was only dilated to like 3 cm and barely effaced at all. Since my amniotic sack had been broken they didn't want to check again for a while and so waited until 7 pm. By then the labor hurt. A lot. So I was beyond dismayed to learn that I was only at frickin' 4 cm. I couldn't believe that shit. The news that I was also 100% effaced didn't make me feel better at all. The nurse asked if I wanted to have nubain and I quickly agreed. Frankly I didn't see how it was going to do me any good if I still had six centimeters to go!

I felt very tripped out when the nubain hit my system. I don't remember there being such an obvious drug effect when I had it during Kirk's labor. But it helped. Instead of the pain of each contraction being stabby, it was more rounded. Most definitely still there but somehow less intense. I was able to relax somewhat. Mr. b asked what he could do and I just had him pet me: rub my back, rub my head and neck, smooth my hair. He crawled up onto the bed and snuggled against my back. Because by this point the girl was low enough they couldn't pick her up via the fetal monitor with me laying on my back. I was laying on my left side and Mr. b was spooning me.

And then something happened. I can only describe it as feeling the way that a snapped rubber band sounds. And then I was bearing down. I jabbed frantically at the bedside call button and shouted, "Something changed!"

My theory is that I went from 4 cm to the full 10 cm in an instant.

My own memory is hazy here. Mr. b says there were millions of nurses suddenly in the room, all discussing what was happening. They helped me roll onto my back and got my legs up into pushing position. There was no chance of finding the girl's heartbeat so I just pushed. And pushed. And pushed. I didn't think I could keep going. I had no strength left for another push until I heard Mr. b assure me that she was almost out. One more push and I felt her head come through and the rest of her body slide out. I heard her cry. It had been maybe five minutes, if that.

My doctor didn't make it.

Here's What Happened: Part 1

My water broke.

See, that just sounds so dramatic, doesn't it? You get a vision of a complete flood of fluid gushing out and making a mess. And maybe that's true for some women. For me it was more like a slow leak. And I didn't even pay any attention to it for hours. I had noted to myself that it was definitely a damp night. But since the doctor had just checked me out on that Monday and confirmed it was not amniotic fluid I just didn't really pay much attention. Saturday mornings are my designated sleep-in day of the weekend and I wasn't about to give up that extra sack time.

Mr. b had a hair cut appointment at Noon so I did finally get up and get dressed - showered and everything! - before we all left. I had planned to have a nice afternoon hanging out with Kirk in Dinkytown. We dropped Mr. b off and walked down to the bookstore that has kitties and puppies and birds and fishies as residents. I figured we could browse for a while and then get some lunch. But Kirk decided to be a royal jerk instead. After several stern talkings-to that made no difference, I finally dragged him outta there while he was screaming, "I wanna be nice! I wanna be nice!" So we set off on a brisk walk around the block to get him to calm down. My folks called while we were walking (Kirk was still alternating between, "I don't like you, Mama!" and "I wanna be nice!") to check up on me but I was frankly too focused on the bratty three year old by my side and blew them off. Kirk finally calmed down after several blocks and we made our way back to the hair place.

Mr. b's haircut was nearly done so we decided to just wait there. Kirk asked to use the bathroom and since preggos have to go all the time, too, I took the opportunity to pee as long as I was in there with him. And that's when I noticed that the discharge was sort of pinkish.

I got on the phone and called my insurance company's nurse line to ask if amniotic fluid was pink. The answer was, "It can be." So then I had to try to get a hold of my doctor. Of course my clinic's phone system is being upgraded and it was offline that weekend. The answering service took my message and all we could do was wait. But I didn't feel in the least bit like I was about to go into labor. We walked over to Mr. b's old cafe and got drinks, joking with his former employees that I was going to be having the baby that day. We figured that we'd just start heading towards the hospital. Doc called when we had just started out and suggested the same thing: just head to the hospital. They can confirm if it's really amniotic fluid or not.

When we got to the hospital, same place I delivered Kirk, I still had my unfinished chai in hand. We calmly walked into the emergency room and I stated that I needed to find out if my water had broken or not. With Kirk I was fully in labor at that point and don't really remember the bureaucracy we dealt with there. We just walked ourselves up to the maternity ward this time and I stated the same thing when we arrived. All while still working on my chai. They got us a room and I changed into a hospital gown. I had had one single contraction during the drive up and nothing since then. Kirk thought it was just neat to be at a doctor place where he wasn't the patient.

Our nurse went through all the various questions that I guess they have to ask for this process. He was pretty funny about them so it was quick and easy. He did dismiss my boys while he took the sample for testing. And the verdict was: I was going to be having a baby. It was indeed amniotic fluid and therefore the sterile environment was breached and the baby was coming out. Period.

I felt rather bewildered by all this. I mean, aren't you supposed to, I don't know, actually be going into labor when that sort of pronouncement is made? Everything was pretty much the exact opposite of how it went down with Kirk. Well, once again we laughed off the ridiculous idea of having a birth plan and once again we didn't have an overnight bag prepared but everything else was completely different. I had called my parents back on the drive to the hospital to ask them if they could come get Kirk depending on the results of the test. So I called them once again to confirm that Mom is indeed psychic and I was having the baby and Kirk would need someplace to stay.