We made a boat and floated into Manhattan Friday afternoon for an appointment with the pediatrician, who declared it Sophie's last Fun Appointment before all the shots come. She's 9 lbs 2 oz, quite a grower.

I laugh that I was worried about Sophie sleeping through the night last week. She's taken to waking at 2am and 4am again. She does go back to sleep very easily after both these feedings, for which I am grateful. I'm knocking on our wooden desk right now.

We're getting ready to interview nannies, which is practically giving me hives. I think leaving Sophie with someone during the day will be much more difficult than I ever anticipated. Yes, even though there are days when I think if I don't get some fresh air I might go mad, I'm not sure what to do with the idea of not having her attached to me.

We had an eventful Sunday with several visitors for Miss Sophie. I'll post a few pictures soon. Right now Sophie's strapped on and we're going to take advantage of our good weather and try and flag down the ice cream truck.

To Wake or Not to Wake

One more thing I forgot to mention. For the past few nights Sophie has been sleeping from somewhere in the 10ish hour to somewhere in the 4amish hour without waking. This stretch is preceded by up to an hour of extreme fussiness, but the long sleep makes it more worthwhile. When can I stop worrying about waking her to feed at night? Already I'm breaking the 5 hour rule, but not by much.

1 month

Sophie was born 4 weeks ago. Somehow time keeps marching forward. She'll have her 4 weeks appointment on Friday with the pediatrician, so I'm sure I'll have more to report then. Her grandpa, an uncle, and great grandma came to visit this past weekend, which was wonderful. I really enjoy her when there are lots of other people around. I enjoy her when we're at home alone too, but there are moments when we just feed, diaper change, feed, diaper change, feed that I admit it gets a little boring. You know, in between the moments when it's the most rewarding experience I've ever had. I'd love to play with her more, but there's still not too much playing you can do at this age. We play tummy time, and read a book, and walk around in circles in the apartment, and go for walks in the park. Just a pair of fresh arms can make a big difference. She's smiling a lot now, and she smiles when we smile, but I can't quite tell if these are social smiles or happening at the same time smiles. They still make us happy. She's also managed to roll over once from tummy to back, although that might have been a total fluke of hand positioning and physics. At the time she wasn't very happy to be on her tummy, nor was she very happy to be on her back. When we feed her bottles she puts her hands on either side and can almost hold the bottle up, but I'm not sure how normal this all is for her level of development. I also know it doesn't matter how quickly she does all these things, but I still want to make note of each first as they come.

Yesterday I read The Giving Tree to her. I cried almost the entire way through the book. Today we read Moo, Baa, La La La! instead.

I'm trying, for her sake, to not discuss her poop. Or to be a mother who talks about poop. I think that is where I am now though. I watch The View and am fascinated by baby poop. I'll just say that I have determined that all babies, even the ones who grow up to be super models and presidents, are capable of pooping a great deal, sometimes all at once, and often loudly.

We bought our plane tickets yesterday to travel to Texas for mother's day. Then we'll take a car to Oklahoma for the annual golf tournament Eric's family runs in memory of his grandfather. We're excited, but a little nervous to be traveling with Sophie at 6 weeks. The pediatrician's office said it would be fine to travel, although 2 months is more ideal. If you have any advice about flying with babies I'd be happy to hear it.

Until a few weeks ago my brother-in-law worked in the White House. He generously arranged to have President Bush send a letter to our daughter. We were extremely honored to receive a letter from the president, but also conflicted due to our politics. Yesterday our daughter received a letter from Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton. My brother-in-law is a genius.

Sunday we're having our open house for everyone to come meet the baby. I'm not sure if I'm being a bit too ambitious about this event, which I do tend to be with the baby lately. Whenever we have an outing I'll convince myself we're ready to go have dinner out in public all together about five minutes before she falls apart and seems to yell, "Apartment NOW!" That said, I'm looking forward to seeing everyone.

The Death of Limbo

There's so much to worry about, being a new parent. At least now I can cross limbo off the list.

Three Weeks

-I am not only down to my pre-pregnancy weight, I'm at my training-for-marathon weight. However, I am also at a super flabby plus (with extra flabby!) version of that weight.

-Sophie passed her hearing test in both ears. At the hospital she first didn't pass in either ear, then passed the right ear only. I wasn't too worried, it was clear she could hear us and she startled at sudden noises, but it's still nice to have an official stamp on that.

-The other night I awoke with a start at 4am convinced that Sophie must have stopped breathing because that was the only explanation for the fact that she had slept since 12:30 am and not woken me up a few times for a feeding. On one hand, that means she is sleeping better through the night. On the other, that pretty much indicates how crazy our schedule has been lately.

-Then yesterday she fed every hour from 6am to 6pm. With breastfeeding and diaper changes and so on I basically wore her all day long and was desperate for a "I sleep when she sleeps" nap.

-She is sleeping now so I am able to blog. As a trade off, I have not showered or changed out of my pajamas yet today.

-She will take a bottle now. She isn't crazy about pacifiers, which is probably just as well. She's discovering her hands, which she loves to put in her mouth, especially when she's hungry. This sometimes makes it difficult to actually feed her.

-We adore the faces she makes. From the monkey face to her smiles. When she starts smiling socially I'll be in big trouble.

-I was able to get her into the sling finally. Maybe she dislikes the fabric? The trick seemed to be swaddling her, then slipping her in when she was in a deep sleep. The more mobile options I have with her, the more I can get done, and I'm desperate to get things done. Even if it's just a load of laundry across the street.

-Saturday we took her to Mamalu, a baby/family friendly place near the park. It's clear we'll be spending a lot of time there from now on. I had goat cheese for the first time since I became pregnant, it was delicious. We met another couple with an older baby. They said we were doing fantastic to already be out and about with her at about two weeks, and said everything would get easier at four weeks. (I'll let you know.) It's this sort of interaction that reminds me that we're actually doing pretty well. And we're extremely lucky to have such a healthy agreeable baby.

Progress

Yesterday I did some laundry and I'm about to attempt to do more. Tomorrow we'll have our third outing into Manhattan for a few doctor's appointments and I'm attempting to go as a solo parent (eek!). We read two books today, even if they were only a few pages each. We've tummy timed and sponge bathed. I pumped my first breast milk.

I haven't updated my other blog because I'm not sure what news I have to offer, other than my newfound love for Clorox Wipes and our mobile co-sleeper.

People say this will get easier, but I'm not sure I believe them. I'm not sure "easier" is the right term. I do know that when I was watching a DVR'd Grey's Anatomy during a 3am feeding, and Lori Metcalf as the woman dying of cancer had her little speech that went something like "You don't know what it's like to hold your newborn daughter and smell the top of her head and know that your only job in life YOUR ONLY JOB is to protect her" it brought me to tears. Loving someone this much is scary.

The only solution seems to be taking one minute at a time. I can't see the end of this tunnel and time seems to already be passing far too quickly.

Old Life/New Life

A Birth Story

Having a baby is nothing like running a marathon.

Over the course of my pregnancy I attended several classes, and while they were helpful, none of them were taught by women who had given birth. My lactation
consultant, however, was a marathon runner. She compared the birth experience and breast feeding to her experience as a runner, which was somewhat reassuring to me as I did run a marathon and hoped that would somehow get me a gold star on the whole labor thing. Then I thought, this woman has never given birth or breastfed, how does she know?

Maybe in some ways it is still comparable. You just can't train to give birth. There's nothing you can do to estimate how it might feel. On the other hand, in the middle of pushing Eric said I was in the Central Park portion of the race. There's no choice but to finish so you might as well get on with it. And he timed my contractions with the stopwatch on my forerunner.

At 6:31 last Wednesday I woke up and was on my way to the bathroom when my water broke. It wasn't a huge gush, but it was clear something had happened. I took a shower because I wasn't sure when I would get one again. While in there, I noticed I was having contractions every four minutes or so, but they were manageable. I left word for a doctor at my practice and woke Eric.

It turned out that my main doctor at the practice was on call, so she called me back and advised me to come on in. She was also off duty at 6pm that night, and wanted to try and deliver me before then if possible. Another favorite doctor of mine would be replacing her if that didn't happen.

Eric was fabulous, fetching and gathering and calling everyone. Soon the contractions were not nearly as fun as they had been at first. I was breathing through them. The car arrived, and while our driver at first looked stricken that I might have a baby in his vehicle he soon was regaling us with stories of his own children and their births. I was fine, especially when I wasn't having a contraction. I turned to Eric and said, "Wow, when I'm not contracting, I don't feel like killing everyone!"

We arrived at the hospital with all of our gear (three bags--one overnight for me, one for Eric, and my purse, a pillow, birthing ball, and yes, tennis balls in a sock) and headed for the 8th floor. The elevators at NYU medical are notoriously busy, so we had to wait for three or so to go by before I could get on. I was very close to pulling the pregnant lady in labor card, but frankly, the pain was still manageable and I held it together. When we made it upstairs I was put directly into a birthing room, skipping triage, for which I was extremely grateful. My nurse for the delivery, Jackie, came by and introduced herself. A few different doctors and the anesthesiologist came in to get a medical history. Eric sent text messages to our friends with mixed success due to spotty reception. Then a resident came in to examine me and verify that my waters had broken. In some ways this was one of the most uncomfortable moments of the whole ordeal. Maybe because the pain that comes after BLINDING PAIN doesn't hurt that bad. She wasn't convinced that my water was broken, although I was and tried to convince her that there wasn't any other explanation for what had happened.

You know, it's funny. Birth stories are filled with information that I don't usually share with mixed company, much less the entire internet.

I had planned to get an epidural and planned to labor as long as I could before getting it. I had even entertained natural childbirth for a bit. While progressing from 2 cm to 4 1/2 I took a shower. I spent a little time on the birthing ball and confirmed that water had indeed broken, no question. I went to the bathroom several times. I cried and squeezed Eric's hand. We turned on the View and I didn't laugh when Eric made fun of Elizabeth.

During the entire event I didn't pay too much attention to the clock. Minutes passed slowly and hours flew. My contractions were growing more and more intense. I told Eric I was ready for the epidural sooner rather than later. I told the nurse I would like the epidural now please. Then I went to the bathroom and threw up. When I came out my doctor was there and I cried, EPIDURAL!

She was very comforting and soon another anesthesiologist came in because the first was in a cesarean. I think he was the head anesthesiologist and he was BRILLIANT. I love him. He gave me the book he wrote on epidurals, and while I don't know what use I'd have for that book now, I appreciated the gesture. Especially after he gave a needle free local and slipped the epidural in like a genius artist. In a few minutes I went from writhing pain to reading the New Yorker. I LOVE EPIDURALS.

I sent Eric down for trashy magazines but I never got to read them, because soon my doctor was in offering to boost my contractions with Pitocin. I had wanted to avoid the Pitocin if possible, but as I was currently sitting back watching the monitor with glee as huge contractions passed with just the slightest of pressure, and since those contractions were slowing down just the tiniest bit, I thought it might be okay. The doctor agreed to give me only a small amount to boost the process.

Soon I could definitely feel the contractions again and was progressing through labor so quickly it's possible I went back in time. Another exam and it seemed the baby was presenting face up instead of face down, creating the possibility of a more painful "back labor" and again, an increased risk of cesarean. (For the past few weeks I had been told I was at high risk for cesarean.) The doctor attempted to guide the baby to turn around, and I moved to my side to let gravity help with the process. I had a talk with the baby. We made a deal.

I was ready to push before they were ready to have me push. I swear, this probably all took hours but it felt like seconds. I tried to breathe more than push as we gave the baby more time to turn, and she did. I was shaking. The nurse told me they could give me more pain medication, but it probably wouldn't kick in before it was all over. Then the anesthesiologist came in and gave me more medication.

When it was time to push I had three coaches in my doctor, nurse, and Eric. They put me on oxygen which really helped. I wasn't sure I was pushing very efficiently, but they told me I was doing well. My doctor could see the head, the head was halfway out, hello baby! I'd pushed for 45 minutes, which I swear felt like five, and there was a surprisingly clean "baby looking" baby on my belly, and Eric was crying, and I was crying, and Sophie was crying. She spent some time in the warmer while I delivered the placenta and received stitches, and then came back all wide eyed and gorgeous.

There's no adequate description for these moments. It seems now that they were less painful than I'd anticipated, but maybe that's nature's wonderful way of pumping me with hormones and making me forget in order to propagate the species. The doctor congratulated me on performing wonderfully on a difficult labor, but it didn't feel that difficult to me. I love drugs. I also love my doctor for guiding me through and helping facilitate what could have been a very difficult labor.

Oh, and she was 7lbs and 7oz. NOT A BIG BABY! In fact it's still slightly smaller than the average 7.6lbs.

So much has happened since. I'll need several more posts to cover all the ups and downs, but I can say basically that our parents are amazing, I'm not sleeping nearly enough, I'm overjoyed with wonder, I've had a few sinking spells--especially after one of those late night four hour cluster feeds, and I'm still not really ready for visitors outside the immediate family, but I want to be. Eric is the most incredible father a girl could hope for. Sophie changes every day. I haven't slept nearly enough. I had adventures the next few days at the hospital because so many babies had delivered, which allowed me to stay in my fantastic birthing room much longer than normal, but then later put me in a couple of not so great rooms. My milk came in while I was still at the hospital, which was lucky. Breastfeeding still hurt like a mother, but it's getting better every day. Did I mention that I'm not sleeping? I should really be sleeping right now. The first night it was a long time before they took her to the nursery, and a bit of time before I got her back, although Eric went up to check and reported that she was fine. When the wee hours of the morning I finally unwrapped her swaddle to replace a diaper I wondered why no one had told me she only had four toes on one foot. I swear I stood for a full minute counting those toes, but it turns out one was just hiding, sort of tucked under another toe, and oh right, I was in a sleep stupor. She doesn't have mutant feet.
In fact, to me, she's perfect.



(Eric's version can be read here.)