Analisa's birthday

The baby is here!

!!!!!

Meet Baby Ana

I'm sure you had no idea; I haven't been blowing up all my social media accounts incessantly with pics or anything.

Yeah, about social media ... remember when I said I'd largely be keeping her photos private? I ... might have to go back on that. As James put it, "she's just a little too cute to keep offline."

Right?!

Although, I did make a private/closed FB group. (Let me know if you want access, we're not being stingy!) Mostly I did it to cut back on all the texts and e-mails I've been sending. This is just a streamlined way to send photos and updates out to the world, without sending everything out to, you know, the world. (Just our world!) And I decided FB > Insty so that our families can save pics a little easier. And maybe now I won't get unfriended by half my list for being THAT MOM who spams her page with nonstop baby stuff. Although, who cares. We have the cutest baby in the universe, and sorry I'm not sorry that I want to share her little cuddly face! Have you even seen those cheeks or her chins? Or her arm rolls? You would be this person too!

Yes, I turned into a baby person overnight. I guess having one will do that to you.

ANYWAY! You want to hear how this little nuzzler was born?

It was Monday, Dec. 7, and yes, I'd already discussed with my friends that she could be born on Pearl Harbor Day.  I ... guess that'd make it easier to remember her birthday? Whatever, I didn't care about what date her b-day landed on -- I just wanted her out! I woke up on her due date and was like, time for you to get evicted, BABY.  And she continued to cook for two more days. Inconsiderate!

So, on Dec. 7, we were two days past 40 weeks, and I was READY. I had texts on my phone like, at any given hour of the day, from people being all, "is she here yet? Are you at the hospital? OMG!" Which, no complaints -- I loved that so many of our friends and relatives were excited for Baby Ana's impending arrival. But still, I did start to get a touch irritated ... just at the whole thing. I was like, "Trust me when I say I'll let you know! I'm not trying to have a secret baby." Meanwhile, I was Googling like crazy, trying to determine how long it typically takes before doctors want to induce, what's the longest anyone's ever been pregnant, etc.

But yeah. Babies come when they're ready. I kept telling myself that.

And so one week ago, I was sitting on our couch, thinking about how it was Pearl Harbor Day, watching Dark Places on Amazon Prime (good movie so far -- still haven't finished!), WAITING.

But then all of a sudden, I was distracted by the movie I guess, when I felt a gush of fluid leak out from my bod. (Gush is a gross word; sorry. But that's honestly what it was!) Right away, I had a hunch it was my water breaking. I had done quite a bit of reading up on the topic, and I saw somewhere that if you can stop the flow with your V muscles, like a kegel, it's just pee. If you can't, it's likely your water. So I stood up, tried to stop the leakage, and was unsuccessful. Actually, I was more than unsuccessful -- an even larger gush splashed down my leg en route to the bathroom (sorry, apartment carpeting).

I had assumed from here, I would labor at home as long as humanly possible. One of the midwives I've been seeing even told me recently, "screw the timing. People get so obsessed with the timing of their contractions and coming in when they hit a set number of minutes apart -- just take care of yourself and come in when the pain is no longer tolerable." Cool, I remember thinking. Easy enough.

But but buttttttttttt.

As I was cleaning up the water-breakage sitch, I noticed the fluid had a bit of color to it. Meaning, the baby might have peed in there. Or worse -- number two. And I remembered that in one of the childbirth classes we took recently, the instructor said all bets were off the table if the water wasn't clear in color. So, I dialed the on-call nurse and asked. I was like, "I reaaaaaaally want to labor at home, and I'm waiting for my husband to get off work, what's the deal?" She said it wasn't life-or-death urgent, so I could wait it out a few hours, but that yes, I'd have to come in sooner rather than later. So, I re-packed our hospital bags, took a long shower, tidied up the apartment, had some snacks, and waited. For reference, my water broke just before 12:30 p.m.  James was home by about 3 or 3:30, and then we headed over to Kaiser.

!!!!!!!!

I was ... still unconvinced I'd be having a baby soon.

I don't know, I was confident about the water sitch, but I wasn't hurting at all. I was starving actually, like, that was my main concern. I just thought, hmmm, maybe they'll take a look and send me back home -- and possibly tell me to return when there's more pain? You hear of that happening. Moms who have to go stroll the mall and such until they're more dialated.

Also worth mentioning: I'd been having period-type cramps for ... 48 hours? They were mild. I was used to them. So they didn't really count, in my head.

Anyway, we were evaluated in triage (this part took forever actually), and it was annoying. A midwife wasn't available to check out the sitch, so I opted to see a doctor. I'd never met her before, but I figured whatever. She took a swab from me, came back a half hour later, and said there was NO indication that my water had indeed broken. I guess sometimes there's amniotic fluid they can see under the microscope? Not the case here, she said. Next, we got the baby up on an ultrasound monitor, and this time, she said the head DID look really low, which indicated that my story was holding a bit more weight. But it was weird ... I felt like she kept drilling me about it, wanting me to admit it was just pee. It was NOT pee. Of this I was certain. So I insisted.

Finally, she determined that this happens sometimes -- because 12:30p was forever ago, and I took a shower, and it was now like, 4:30p, she said it was possible those were my waters that broke. And maybe more would be leaking out soon? Gross. The important part was, they admitted me to a real room and let James step out for Jimmy John's. (Did I order a #2 and an oatmeal raisin cookie right before childbirth? Better believe. I was so hungry. I think I needed it though, for energy).

Also: MIXED REACTIONS on whether you can eat or not before labor. One nurse agreed to look the other way and I scarfed it down before she could get a second opinion. #noregrets

But yeah, once we got in the room, that's when the waiting game started. We answered a ton of questions with our first midwife. I still experienced barely any pain. They didn't want to check me, seeing as we were still operating off the assumption that my water did break (I guess once it breaks, they want to check you as few times as possible -- it's kind of an invasive THING, getting checked, so that makes sense).

So, who knew how dialated I was, initially? James and I didn't care. We watched Modern Family, he blew up my birthing ball, and we continued to settle in. They told me if labor didn't progress fairly quickly, I'd have to receive some Pitocin. I was just like, whatever needs to happen ... let's do it.

But the cool thing was, labor DID progress. I needed no such Pitocin.

Here's the funny part: If you asked me to describe what I thought my labor would be like, I would have typed: Active. "I want to be up on my feet, using gravity to my advantage, walking the hospital, hanging in the courtyard, bouncing on my ball, rocking out to my playlist I prepared, taking some pressure off by doing some flights of stairs, getting back massages from Jimmy, etc."

Here's what my labor was actually like: Spoiler alert -- none of the above. Actually, the above all sounded AWFUL.

I wanted to stay in bed. Upright, as my hips/tailbone/back were killing me, but I needed to stay in bed. (It also didn't help that every time I stood up, I would splash down with like, wayyyy more fluids). Gross again, I know. It was like, the rest of my water breaking, and the nurses reassured me it would only progress/continue to get splashier the rest of the night. Cool. I was also nauseated af for probably an hour. That JJ's came back to HAUNT.

But yeah, back to the water breakage/splashdown 2015: I'll put that on the list of, "things no one ever told me about childbirth." It was really alarming at first! I went to the bathroom but wouldn't stop leaking ... I ran back out to my team and was like, "um, PROBLEM!" They were all, "yeahhhhhh, that's only going to increase with each contraction. Grab a pad and prepare for the ride."

And then they asked, "do you want to change into hospital underwear? Some people prefer it." ... "No, I brought my own -- like, four pairs, so that should be more than enough." lolololol FOUR PAIRS. I was cute.

Spoiler alert: Hospital undos are the best. Don't fight them.

Four pairs of undos sound like a lot, but not in a 24-48 hour window where you're BIRTHING A CHILD. I changed a lot.

Anywayyyyyyyy. So, I stayed in bed. I had to get up to pee throughout the experience, because I had no epidural, therefore, no catheter. But otherwise, I was pretty still. My coping mechanism was indeed yoga breathing, just as I had planned on, but it was HARD.

I convinced myself that each contraction lasted seven deep breaths. So, as each one came rolling through, I just focused on the breath, much like in my bikram yoga class.

Bikram is all about relaxing as much as you possibly can in between postures, then when it's time to grab standing bow-pulling or camel or whatever, focusing all your energy and strength into hitting that pose. Then when the time is up, getting right back into your deep breathing and state of relaxation. I could go on about how when the posture is particularly challenging, you need to breathe through it -- to really get your mind and body into the right spot, but I won't talk yoga for much longer.

Basically, I applied the same principles. Each contraction was the posture, which I breathed into and through, and then I played dead in between. I went through a list in my head of like, "relax your throat. Relax your hips. Sink into the bed. Relax your eyes. Relax your feet." It was a helpful distraction, to say the least.

So, contractions were originally no big deal ... especially considering the time off in between. I could deal with seven deep breaths of anything, right?

Kind of.

I'm jumping around a bit with the timeline, so for some context: I felt great-ish, all things considered, until probably 8 or 9 p.m. Just period-like cramps, which, as I mentioned, I'd had for days. Labor progressed, and when they finally wanted to do my first check (for dialation), I was at 4.5/nearly 5 cm. The pressure was intensifying, but it wasn't horrible. A short time after this point, I started the yoga breathing. My lips got CHAPPED. I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't want to hang out with James (I told him to sleep, I'd rather weather the storm on my own); all I wanted to do was breathe and stay in my zone. The midwives and nurses on staff were impressed. They respected what I was doing. They kept coming in like, "you're our hero, stick with it, girl."

Also worth noting: Never once touched my hospital bag. Didn't want to spray lavender on my pillow, didn't want to watch DVDs, and I would have slipped right off that birthing ball.

My main complaint for a large chunk of time was that I felt fever-ish. I was sweating my face off one second, then my teeth were chattering the next, and it felt like the Frozen castle in that room. My robe was either on the ground or covering my face as I burrowed into it. That was super uncomfortable.

My main overnight nurse Christi kept wanting to suggest things. "You could try this position, or that position, or we could talk about pain-management options," she would say every hour or so. I pretty much just shook my head no at all of the above. I hated to be unfriendly and unwilling, but I was working hard just to survive -- and her 8 million ideas all sounded awful. I get that she was trying to help. But I wanted none of it.

Finally, I spoke. I told Christi I had hit a wall. I was trying to breathe through my contractions, but it was getting harder and harder. There was just like, no time off in between, and I was having pretty intense back labor. Christi called in a midwife to check me again, and I was at 8-9 cm. I knew 10 was the magic number where we started pushing, but I felt DRAINED. So, Christi hooked me up with this cool little pack. It's called a TENS Machine, Google tells me after the fact. It was like, she put these stickers on my lower back, and they had little massaging electrodes inside them. Is that confusing? I hope I'm explaining it right ... well, so a contraction would hit, and I'd press my hand-held buzzer, and the buzzer would massage/zap my back. It was pretty natural; I think just like, a high-functioning massage tool at best.

Problem was, I still felt my contractions. Again, this thing was just kind of a distraction. A fun distraction at first, but not really a long-term solution.

And so right before push time (well, with about an hour to go), Christi administered a low-dose painkiller into my IV -- it only lasted about 40 minutes or so, and again, I still felt my contractions. Haha I've typed that twice now. And I still experienced them pretty strong, actually. These final options just kind of took the edge off, so that I was able to doze before the big moment.

Right as Christi was clocking out and saying goodbye, I started getting the overwhelming urge to push. I could feel how low the baby was, and I'm not going to lie, it feels a LOT like needing to go to the bathroom. I blurted out, "I feel like I want to push!", which seemed to startle everyone in the room at the time, seeing as I hadn't spoken voluntarily in hours.

It was time!

The pushing lasted about 40 minutes in all, which I hear isn't bad for a first-time labor. And I'm here to tell you that this stage of labor -- which I had previously feared the most -- was NOT BAD. First of all, it felt incredible to push. We were making progress, it took the pressure off (literally), and I just thought it seemed ... strangely productive. Contractions toward the end HURT, but pushing? Nope. It was just steps toward getting my sweet baby out! I swear, I didn't even feel like I was ripping in two or anything.

I pushed with two or so nurses for most of the 40 minutes, then at the end, a huge team of doctors rushed in for the final hurrah. There was some quick talk that I didn't have any energy left, so should they get the vacuum? Ughhhhhh. (Well, but at that point, I was just like, "whatever, let's do dis!")

James was holding one leg, and the new nurse had the other. Finally, everyone agreed that because I didn't have an epidural, they didn't like the idea of a vacuum extraction. Nurse Leann whispered to me that if I could give it all I had for ONE MORE push, I'd get to meet my baby and all these people would leave us alone.

Game on.

I took a huge breath (I had oxygen for help), I pushed like I've never pushed before, and the next thing I knew, they handed me a beautiful baby girl. It was truly a whirlwind, in that final moment. I remember thinking, "remember this. She's finally here." So surreal!

10 seconds after birthing this one : )

But it was true -- Nurse Leann was right! -- everyone got the hell out after that! (James told me later that it was a full house to make sure she took her first breath OK. Remember the possible meconium issue?) But yeah, we were all good! Thank goodness. I don't even remember fretting about that stuff during delivery, but I have to imagine I would have been devastated if she had been rushed off to the NICU or whatever.

But yeah ... phewwwwww. What a rush. It felt so nice not to be TOUCHED by anyone but my sweet daughter. Haha. The docs took that horrible fetal monitor off my stomach, a bunch of other tubes and crap out of my way, and the team left after a quick assessment. She was more than OK! She was perfect.

I still had to deliver the placenta and get some quick stitches (I had a second-degree ... injury), and I won't lie, the stitches stung. But I was elated, just holding our baby Ana and talking to James. The endorphins are REAL. Oh, and so many people said after childbirth, I'd forget to ask right away if she were a boy or a girl -- not the case! They popped her onto my chest and I was all, "WHAT IS IT?"  Ana was flailing her legs around and it took us a second to investigate : )

All the yoga breathing had left me hoarse. I had no voice.

But I was overcome with joy to have a baby girl.

What else ... we didn't name her for a few hours. We were between Grace and Analisa, but Ana won out. We didn't pick a middle name because we didn't really like how anything sounded. I figured Analisa is already kind of two names, why do you need a middle name, anyway?

Gosh, I must have babbled for five minutes straight when she was set on my chest, "oh my gosh oh my GOSH. I love her so much already, how is this possible? She's so cute and small and I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE'S BEEN LIVING INSIDE ME all this time! I love her. I think I love her already! James, look at how cute she is. Can you believe she's all ours? We made her! Look at her hair. Look at her hands and feet! I counted all her fingers and toes -- they're all there! She's just so soft and squishy! I love her already though!"

Quite the happy stream of thoughts from the girl who refused to talk all night.

The nurses were laughing and laughing.

Ana and I had our hour of skin-to-skin time while James snapped some pics and texted the moms and the friends (per my instructions). We didn't pass her off for weight or measurement for awhile -- anddddd we didn't pick the name promptly, like I mentioned! -- so, sorry for the vague texts. She cried the whole time in my arms, but I didn't care. She pooped on me, too. I had to get a new hospital wristband, it was everywhere. I didn't even notice, I was so in love. We snuggled and I rubbed that weird white stuff into her skin like lotion, and looked into her eyes and teared up probably 20 times, but somehow didn't cry. It was all so surreal! There's no better word for it. She was REAL.

When we finally got her measurements, we were so surprised! No wonder she felt like she was taking up so much room inside me. She really was! Analisa was 8 pounds, 13 ounces, and 20 1/2 inches long. I guessed 6 pounds and James guessed 7 -- you can imagine our surprise when she rang in at nearly 9.

Jimmy with our chunker baby!

We only stayed at the hospital ... one more night? She latched right away, so we passed breastfeeding tests, and all other tests, too. She's seriously perfect.

I continue to have some issues breastfeeding, so maybe I regret not staying longer? But I'm trying to be cool and relaxed about everything. Post-baby hormones are the truth, and I'm currently weepy about ... everything. Like, James mentioned having a daughter the other day, and that did it. Something stupid on TV set me over the edge and I welled up in a second. So yeah, breastfeeding probz are a stressor; I just keep thinking: there's no worst-case scenario here. If I have to give her a bottle someday, fine. I have a healthy, beautiful baby girl and I need to CHILL. (Currently seeing a lactation consultant, so we're making progress).

She's so smiley (I know, probably just gas, but she is!), so nuzzly, and I love her so unbelievably much. My heart is so full. For James, for Ana, for our new little family. Hope you enjoyed all the deetz! Stay tuned for monthly updates.

My favorite little girl.