The highly anticipated - What a Quack: Part Two

I received a disgruntled e-mail (Hi Laura!) today regarding the suspense I was creating due to my lack of posting... so here you will find the highly anticipated part two of my birth story.

So after hanging out with the contractions for longer than I needed to, I summoned for my epi. Enter (as Master P endearingly called him) Twinkle Toes the Anesthesiologist Assistant. I wasn't really a fan of Twinkles Toes. He told me I asked too many questions. Hi, you're about to stick a flippin needle in my back that looks like a basketball pump, of COURSE I'm going to ask questions.

Twinkle Toes got the last laugh though. He decided the IV in my left hand wasn't sufficient (I'm not sure what gave that away... maybe the part where it was about three times its normal size). Twinkle Toes somehow decided that my right forearm was the appropriate place for IV Number 2. I don't know what gave him this impression -- I'm not the smartest person in the world, but there isn't a good vein there, to my knowledge. I tried to coax him to put it elsewhere, but Twinkle Toes knows best. Not. Enter lots of blood and bruising in my arm. I'd say the bruise was about six inches long and lasted longer than anything else from my delivery -- staples and back bruising from the epi included.

So whatev's... I got the epi. It was no big. Everyone talks about how getting the epi in the worst thing ever. I disagree. I hardly felt it and didn't really feel much pressure. After the epi they put a catheter in since you can't get up to go tinkle once you have the epi. That wasn't a big deal either. At this point, I didn't give a shit what they did to my hoo ha either.

Eventually the on call night doc came in to see how I was progressing. My poor Jillybean wasn't handling contractions so well. Every time I had one, her heart rate dropped, and it was staying down low for longer as time went on.

The doctor gave me a choice. I could c-section now, and she could pretty much guarantee Jillybean would be A-okay or I could wait it out and see what happened. She let me know that if I waited, and did end up needing a c-section, it'd be an emergency situation. I obviously opted for choice A. As pro natural childbirth some of you may be, when your child's, that you've been carrying for the last 9 and half months, life is potentially on the line, you do what you have to do.

Now I have to say I wonder what an emergency c-section would be like because from the time the decision was made to the time JBean was delivered, there was maybe fifteen minutes in between. They had my guts torn open before Master P was even in the room.

The c-section itself wasn't bad... but I think they should give you earplugs because you hear all sorts of things you don't want to hear. The scariest part was not being able to swallow -- only because I was breathing so heavily through my mouth with the oxygen mask on.

The best moment of my life was hearing Jillybean cry after she was born. Being strapped to a table wasn't so fantastic. I made Master P count all of her fingers and toes and I kept asking the pedi what her Apgar scores were (8 and 9 respectively).

At this point, Master P took JBean back to the recovery room while they stitched me up. This was probably the worst part. Not being able to hold her after carrying her for so long was heartbreaking. In fact, I didn't get to hold her for a little over two hours after her delivery. My body went into shock and I kept shaking like I was having seizures. But once I held her, it was magical. It was love at first sight. I've never loved anything or anyone as much as I loved her at that very moment, and the crazy part is that I love her more and more as each day goes on. I can't help but give her hugs and kisses.

What a quack!: Part One

While we're on the topic of ratards...

I realized I never told the story of my labor and delivery. I guess I'm trying to block the whole labor part out (but in all honesty, it wasn't nearly as bad as I expected).

As mentioned in a previous post, cervical checks didn't go so well for me. Three different doctors almost got a black eye from Mama D. Whatever, they get paid massive amounts of money so they can deal. Anyway, I went to the OB on my due date. When I first became pregnant, I started seeing Dr. P, but then for some reason, she was only working in the office one day a week and was always double booked and running late which pissed me off. The girl at the reception desk liked me because everybody likes me obvi so she started giving me the option to see different doctors throughout my pregnancy so save me time. I was fine with seeing different people since the chances of my OB delivering were slim (and truth be told, by the end of my pregnancy she was the last person I wanted to see). I had see Dr. D several times, and she just happened to be who I was seeing on my due date which was A-ok with me since she was my favorite.

So they gave me the old "get nakey from the waist down speech". Super. Hello high blood pressure. So whatever, Dr. D unsuccessfully tries to do a cervical check. She basically said F this noise, I'm not getting kicked in the head. And since I like her, I was ok with that attitude. Since I had no visible progression, we mutually decided to schedule an induction for a week and a half later just in case.

Since nothing in my life ever goes the way it's supposed to, guess what happened. I had to be induced.

So the following Wednesday night, after eating a delicious PB&J sandwich (it was like the hottest day of the year... it was legitimately 100 degrees in my apartment -- we don't usually put the air conditioners in until July..some years August because the weather is so temperamental here).

Once we got to the hospital, and were checked in, it was time to start Operation Make JBean Show Up (all while watching American Idol because there was no way I was missing the finale! Go Lee Dwyze). The nurse came in and mentioned giving me a pill to dilate my cervix and insert a foley bulb. I promptly said hells no to the foley bulb (especially when the nurse described it as torture...yeah I'm good).

So whatev's...they gave me some Ambien to help me sleep (HAHA, yeah, okay). Next morning comes around and they decide it's time for me to go to labor and delivery to start the pitocin. Hooray. So they start pumping it, and when the doctor comes in, they realize that..wait for it.. I wasn't dialated at all. Not even a smidge. As we all know, that's no bueno if you're on pitocin.

Dr. G (not medical examiner) was all like, hells no, this isn't going to work. So they bounced me back to the regular floor...where I'd just come from. To the exact same room. The nurses were all "Hey long time no see" and I was like STFU.

Master P was irritated beyond belief at this point. He just wanted his baby out and somehow felt like it was my fault that was wasn't producing. He decides it's a good time for him to go home and shower, since he stayed overnight with me.

Enter painful contractions. Apparently, I just needed to be patient because things started on their own. Dr. G came back about 4 hours later and I was at 3 cm. She gave me the okay to get the epi and sent me back down to L&D.

They get me situated and what not... I decide I want to hit the L&D nurse but luckily there's a shift change soon. New nurse comes in and she's about my age, unlike the old bitty with no personality so everything's cool.

Now I'd done my research on the epi and decided I was only going to get it if I needed it. Considering I was telling Phil to STFU every time I had a contraction and holding on for dear life, I thought it was a good idea to get one at some point but I didn't want to get it TOO early.

I allowed myself to have contractions for about another hour...

Stay tuned for part two!

I'm such a bad mama...

At least, that's how I felt yesterday.

JBean had her 2 month check up yesterday. Of course, this is the first of her appointments her daddy couldn't squeeze out of work for a few. Supposedly he was very busy. I'm calling bullshit. He just didn't want to deal with what was coming...

...the dreaded two months shots...

They did the regular exam and what have you and of course save the dreadful shots for last (3 sticks in the leg and an oral injection). Miss JBean now weighs 10 lbs., 6 oz's for those that are curious and she is in the 5oth percentile for both height and weight... aka perfect, but we knew that.

Anyway, back to the story at hand.

So JBeanie gets a clean bill of health and the doctor left the room to get the nurse. JBean lost her shit at that point. I firmly believe she knew what was coming since she's smart like her mom. I decided to give her a ba-ba (bottle) and according the nurse, that was a brilliant idea (This is the part where I feel like I should get the mother of the year award). She didn't see JBean lose her shit...yet.

Nursey prepares the injections then asks me to bring JBeans to the table. Where she promptly instructs me to hold her arms down. AKA the most heartbreaking thing ever. She was screaming like "Mama, help me this lady is hurting me" and giving me the pitiful sad eyes and it just broke my heart and was the worst thing ever. I will admit that I cried. I felt so helpless.

After she was done being tortured, I finished giving her her ba-ba and she promptly fell asleep. I'm thinking because she was traumatized. She was such a good little girl the whole way home.

Once we got here, she seemed okay, just really groggy - which I was expecting. Basically, she slept all day and when she wasn't sleeping she was crying while eating.

It got to be 9 PM and I was snuggling her, trying to make her feel safe... I swear to god she started screaming like I was trying to murder her. I felt so bad for the poor thing.

As you might know, I am blessed with the best baby every. She has essentially been sleeping through the night since week 3. Last night was hands down the worst we've EVER had. She was up three times, screaming her brains out. (My landlord lives downstairs and our living room is essentially above him bedroom - I'm sure he loves me today).

So I'm exhausted because I think I got 3 non-consecutive hours of sleep. But, the good news is JBean appears to be back to her normal self... since she's sitting next to me in her Cupcake Boppy pillow, kicking the crap out of my leg, and smiling that devilish smile like she's about to do something wrong.

Man, I love this kid so much.

...and do not look forward to her four month appointment. le sigh.

Does anyone have tips for how to get through these appointments? I imagine they're only going to get worse as she becomes aware of what is about to come...

Chatty Cathy

To All Eight of my Followers:

I apologize for my lack of blogginess the last few days.

Chatty Cathy has been keeping me quite busy. By Chatty Cathy, I mean JBeanie. She now 'talks' like a champion. For those of you who know me in real life (Hi Laura!), she totally gets that from me. I have the gift of gab.



I remember being in kindergarten, and I would talk so much the bus driver would get mad. She made me sit in the front of the bus next to this kid Daryl because he was super quiet but not once I got ahold of him.

Anyway, JBean likes to have nonsensical conversations with me. I feel kind of silly sometimes. Especially if we're out and about but I'm so glad she's becoming a real person.

But it def means less me time. I'm way okay with it though.

Other milestones recently attained are reaching for things -- like her rattle. She doesn't quite get the concept that if she's holding it, I can't wave it in her face.

She also tried to sit up on her own the other day. We'll call her half successful.

In other news, JBeanie has her two month shots tomorrow. Wish us luck. :(

You're really letting yourself go lately...

As we all know, men can be stupid sometimes. Sorry guys, but it's true. You don't always think before you speak and can be a bunch of ra-tards.




















As I was sitting on the couch with JBean the other night, Master P uttered those dreadful words. "You're really letting yourself go lately".

My first reaction was to jump up and knock the every living shit out of him. After giving him the look of death, he elaborated for me.

...And I (even though I'll never tell him this) decided he's right.

The reasons he sited are as follows:
1: "Your hair has been super frizzy lately". Well I have to say, I one up a lot of new mom's that I know, where I shower daily, in the morning. So many people told me I wouldn't have time for a shower after JBean arrived, but that isn't acceptable to me. I need to feel squeaky clean. Now, where I may be able to shower, I don't always have time to blow dry my hair... hence it being frizz-alicious. (If you know anything about New England summers, you know that it gets ridiculously humid... to the point where you break a sweat running outside to get the mail. Dislike).

2: "Your feet aren't looking as cute as they used to". Le sigh. Before being pregnant, and all throughout my pregnancy, I got a pedi every two to three weeks. Eight weeks post-partum, and I haven't had one since my due date (which was May 18... JBean didn't show up until the 27th). Now don't get me wrong, my toe nails don't look like this lady's; but they aren't perfectly painted either.
















3. "You haven't been wearing much make up". Yeah, cuz JBean and the cat really care if I have eyeliner on. Ridiculous.















Anyway, I guess the point of this, is I don't have as much time as I used to -- and maybe I'm not as cute as I was before JBean but I think she makes up for my lack of cuteness. :)

Adventures in Babysitting

As a parent of an (almost) eight week old, my life has changed drastically since the birth of my little bean. The greatest adjustment is yet to come. I, unfortunately, will be returning to the workforce in five short weeks. I'll be a full time employee and a full time mama. I think I'm going to be in shell shock since I've been out of work for about 9 and a half weeks now. My company offers a great maternity program and I was fortunate enough to receive twelve weeks of paid leave. I also have an option to take an additional fourteen weeks unpaid.

However...

If we're being honest with each other, I don't think I could be a stay at home mama. I think I'd lose my marbles (what's left of them anyway). Yes, I am envious of those of you who get to spend all your time with your pumpkins, and I'm petrified that I am going to miss one of those milestones. Master P missed her first smile since he was at work. Luckily, I had my camera phone close by and was able to capture the moment. But what if her first words spew out while at daycare? Or she takes her first steps and I miss it? Thinking about it breaks my heart.

I think the hardest part of the process is entrusting her to take care of her like I do for forty hours a week. I've been away from JBean once for more than an hour an my sister in law was watching her. We were gone about 4 and a half hours, and I texted her about five times. Bear in mind JBean was asleep the entire time we were out.

I have put choosing a daycare off for so long, that I'm due back to work in less than 5 weeks and haven't made a final decision. Fortunately, we have an appointment to meet an 'in home' care on Thursday. Keep your fingers crossed. They come highly recommended from a friend of the family and their daughter has been going there since she was an infant (she'll be five in a few weeks).

How many of you are stay at home mama's? How long did you have before you went back to work? If your child is in daycare, how did you decide on a facility/care giver?

I vote for everyone brainstorming of ways for me to stay home - even if I will lose my mind.

The Shit Hit the Fan

Almost literally.

As mentioned in a previous post little Miss JBean has Grunting Baby Syndrome (I'm sure JBean is really going to appreciate my sharing with the world when she's older) so I almost always know when she's doing her business. The glass for us is both half empty and half full -- JBean poops once a day usually (half full) but there's always a lot of poo (half empty). So last night JBeanie was sitting in her bouncy chair (She's discovered that if she kicks her legs, the toys on top move) and started with the ever so charming baby grunting (so lady like). It always happens during dinnertime, I swear. So Master P and I are enjoying the not so delightful dry chicken I prepared for dinner... and as I've learned, I need to wait until she is done doing her business before I try to clean her bum.

So I continued on with dinner while the obligatory waiting period went by.

Holy shit.

It was EVERYWHERE. Up her butt, on her back, in her bellybutton... and because she now thinks her bouncy seat is everywhere she kicked her little chicken legs and there was poop on her leg and her foot... EVERYWHERE.

It was time for an intervention. Bath time.


And so ends this messy diaper saga...

The Truth About Birth and its Messy Aftermath

After reading Jillybee Momma's post "Imma Be Real With You" (If you haven't checked out Jillybee Momma already - do so immediately... well immediately after reading what I have to say. I love her blog and we automatically have to be BFF since we both have Jillian's... which is obvi the best name ever. Don't hate), I have been inspired to tell you the things they don't tell you about birth and its messy aftermath.

Warning: This post is outright nasty.

What they tell you: You're going to bleed.
What they don't tell you: You're going to bleed like someone shot you in your hoo ha. (Sounds impossible, but trust me). Now, I gave birth via unplanned c-section due to fetal distress, so I'm not sure how different this is for those who give birth through their vajayjay. Back to the bleeding. There will be blood clots. Very large blood clots. The first major clot I experienced was about the size of an egg. I thought I was dying. I made Master P call the nurse. He thought I was on my death bed as well. Just so you know, the nurse informed me I should get concerned if the clots were as big as an apple. Otherwise, I was a-okay. Super.

What they tell you: You're going to need your cervix checked frequently.
What they don't tell you: They're going to check your cervix every twenty minutes or so. I am the most squeamish person when it comes to people looking up my hoo ha. I pass out every year at my annual pap. I just get so worked up, and I lock up, and it's the most miserable thing ever. I'm so bad that the on call literally questioned how my baby was conceived and gave me the okay to get the epi when I was only at a 3 thinking it'd make cervical checks easier for me (Really, I think she was just being selfish since she almost got kicked in the head, but that's just my opinion).

What they tell you: You're going to need help the first few days.
What they don't tell you: You're going to need help doing things that WILL be embarrassing. Some experiences may vary, since, as previously mentioned, I required a c-section. Some things are more embarrassing than others. I am very modest with my body... I have never dressed 'scandalous' and I've never really shown my body off. I certainly have never flashed anyone or the like. When you're trying to breast feed, you are going to whip your boobs out, and there are going to be numerous people touching and groping them, and you aren't going to care. Additionally, I need Master P to help with some tasks... like putting the mega pads on since I could really bend to pull my hospital issue mesh underoos on, and helping me dry my legs and butt after a shower for the same reason (and I'm pretty confident I had some happening hair patches since shaving well is impossible). I'm sure he saw many things that make him think differently of me now (see egg sized blood clots and sasquach hair patches), but as far as I can tell, he loves me all the same.

What they tell you: You will be numb from the waist down.
What they just don't tell you: You'll be numb from the waist down, and you won't be able to feel your feet... for four hours. It was the freakiest part of the whole experience I think. I could think about moving my feet... and see my feet moving... but couldn't feel my feet moving. I legit panicked.

What they just don't tell you: The first day you're home from the hospital, I'm sure you'll have plenty of help. Maybe you'll even be fortunate enough to have help for several weeks (I know the company I work for offers a 12 week maternity leave AND 12 weeks of paternity leave for new fathers). If you're anything like me, you'll, unfortunately, be alone sooner rather than later. After spending 4 days in the hospital after the birth of JBeanie, we were sent home on a Monday -- Master P had to return to work the following Monday. I can honestly say it was the hardest day of my life. I had no clue what I was doing. JBeanie cried all day long. I didn't have time to shower... I didn't even have time to eat anything. I was a frazzled disaster and that day made me feel like I didn't know what I got myself into. But it gets better. Honestly. Promise!


As tough as some of these things were to deal with, in all honesty, it's worth it in the end. JBean is the best thing to ever happen to me... shit filled diapers and all. :)

My Kid Likes to Screw With Me

I wish I was kidding.

I'm legit screwed. I'm scared to see what the terrible twos bring us.

Jillybean is only 7 weeks old and she's already screwing with us.

After cleaning an especially shitastic diaper one day, and getting pooped on (she literally pooped on me... like projectile poop... on me, her, her changing table, even the stupid container the wipes are held in), it was time for another diaper change. This was around the time we switched JBean from the Enfamil Premium to the Enfamil Gentlease... so needless to say, things were extra poopy and messy. Fast forward ten hours when it's time to change another diaper. Since I like to talk to Jillybean like she's going to answer me, I asked her if she was going to poop on me again. Her response: Her first friggin smile.

I really wish I was joking. She apparently thought it was hilarious to poop all over mommy... at 5:30 in the morning. Of course, P was fast asleep in the next room... despite my yelling for help.

Another example of the alleged screwing around...

9 out of 10 times (always when we're running late) when I get Jillybean in her carseat (which, lets face it... it's no easy task), she decides that she has to poop RIGHT NOW. How do I know this you ask? My little darling has what they like to call Grunting Baby Syndrome. I really wish I was kidding. I think this also needs to be on the list of things they tell you, since I thought my kid was having an exorcist moment of some sorts the first it happens. And we're not talking one grunt/push/minute and she's done... this little game goes on for, oh, half hour or so. Making me perpetually late. (It's especially a good time when she pees on me while changing the poopy diaper).

Oh the joys.

Update: 8:56 AM: She's doing it now!!! It's like she knew I was talking about it. Uggggh.

What's that smell? Oh, wait, it's me.

As one can imagine, becoming a parent is quite the learning experience. A lot of what I do is trial and error. The baby is crying -- I burp her, she cries. I check her diaper, she cries. I feed her, she cries. I snuggle her, she stops crying. Being fairly clueless when I became pregnant, and even until I delivered (JBean's diaper was the first I ever changed, she was the first baby I ever fed, the first swaddle I ever swaddled...you get the picture), I feel so much more enlighted, even though I've only been a mama for six short weeks.

One of the things I wish someone warned me about was formula. Now before anyone preaches to me about breast being best, it's not for everyone. I went into this pregnancy with the attitude of it breastfeeding works out, great, if not, I'm not going to lose sleep over it. I lied a bit about not losing sleep. JBean was born on a Thursday... by Saturday, she had lost over 10% of her little body weight. My body simply wasn't doing enough for her. She would try to feed, and unbeknownst to me, not get anything, so she'd freak out, thus freaking me, clueless new mama, out. By Saturday, the doctor had me start supplementing with formula since her weight loss was so significant. This made feeding JBean quite the task. I would feed her for 15 minutes on each side, then have to give her an ounce of formula (and anyone who knows JBean knows she is the slowest eater ever when she wants to be). After she was fed, I had to pump for 15 minutes on each side in an attempt to (unsuccessfully) get my supply up. Needless to say by the time I was done, it was time to do it all over again. I was tired, JBean was tired, and we were both frustrated. After doing this for several days at home, without the awesome support of the staff at the hospital, I made the decision to exclusively formula feed. I honestly think that if I didn't make this decision when I did, I would have fallen into a deep spiral of post partum depression (the taboo that just isn't talked about...)

Now, there were a few things no one had warned me about with the formula.

1. I knew it was expensive but I didn't realize how expensive. Yeah, they send all kinds of coupons and stuff, but still. The first few weeks weren't so bad, however, now that JBean is getting bigger, she's eating more -- thus we go through at least a can of formula a week @ about $26/pop.
2. No one warned me that powdered formula can make babies very gassy. My starving baby was much happier than my gassy baby -- so I felt terrible for a couple of days for switching from BF.
3. This brings us to our last, and final point, and the title of this post -- formula stinks to high hell... especially the Enfamil GentleEase formula. Holy moly. My baby farts like a grown man now... I swear she could clear a room.

The reason for the title of this post -- JBean spit up on me earlier today... it was about 90 degrees and she got me pretty good. My kid's got good aim. I promptly changed my shirt but about an hour ago I found myself saying "what's that smell"? I knew it wasn't JBean because she literally had just had a bath... in fact, I began smelling the smell while she was in the tub. Turns out the horrendousness my nose picked up on was me -- not only did she get my shirt, she somehow got my bra too. Good lord, I stink to the high heavens.

Wait, I'm pregnant?!

September 21, 2009... the day my life changed forever (Hey, we might as well start at the beginning right?!)


My fiance (we'll call him Master P) and I had just endured a busy weekend. We had a wedding to attend Saturday and Sunday we had attended the U2 concert to celebrate our 4 year anniversary (it's remarkable how much time flies). I felt crummy the whole weekend (And fortunately didn't drink all weekend due to said crumminess). Upon further analyzing, I realized Aunt Flo hadn't come to visit me in some time, which wasn't unusual due to the birth control I was on. I figured I'd pee on a stick and carry on with my day.


WRONG. Has anyone seen that commercial where they discuss misreading a pregnancy test? There was no denying that the little plastic stick with my pee on said PREGNANT, loud and clear. As did the second test...

...and the third test...

......and eventually the fourth test...


You hear so often of people being ecstatic when they find out they're pregnant. I will be honest, and tell you that was not the case. I was scared shitless. To be fair, I think I was more afraid of giving birth than the actual being responsible for another human being's life part.

And I was terrified to tell my fiance. Yes, we had talked about having kids... in the distant future. But baby's are expensive, and we lived in a small apartment, and hell, I had never even changed a diaper! I'm pretty sure I googled "How to my fiance I'm pregnant". Click here for the eHow!

Telling Master P was probably the easiest part of my pregnancy. JBean is summoning me, but stay tuned for more!

Handling Life One Diaper at a Time

Why start a blog? Well, why not. It's sort of like why did the chicken cross the road. My thought is he had nothing better to do with his time.

A little about me...

I'm a 26 year old, first time mama to Baby JBean. I love her more than anything, ever, but sometimes being around her, and the process to get her here was terrifying. Here I plan on logging our adventures... the good, the bad, and the outright poopy. Whoever said parenting was good clean fun was obviously full of crap.

So sit back, relax, love me, hate me, laugh with me and cry with me... really it doesn't matter...

As Huggie's would say, Enjoy the ride! ;)