metaphortunate son (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
metaphortunate) wrote2013-09-29 10:18 pm
metaphortunate) wrote2013-09-29 10:18 pm
to the moon and back
And then I had two baby boys.
Rocket was born in the wee hours a week ago.
Let me first massively, massively recommend not coming down with pre-eclampsia. I'm so glad I didn't know what the normal aftermath of a pregnancy feels like last time. I just assumed it was normal to feel like I had been run over by an entire fleet of trucks, and that everyone had to go through it. Everyone said "Oh, it takes longer to recover than you think," and it does, and at a week postpartum I am far from recovered, but I am also far from the weak-shuffle-between-the-bathroom-and-the-bedroom that was what I could manage a week after having the Junebug. Jesus. This is so much better.
I mean, I feel like I've been run over by one eighteen-wheeler truck. Which is not great, but, you know! Better.
I didn't have to get induced this time. I went into labor on my own. In a confusing and unclear way. I'd been having practice contractions for a while towards the end of the pregnancy. Actually over the previous couple of weeks I had two labor scares where I thought it was starting and then the contractions slowed down again and stopped. At this point I was convinced that my doula didn't actually believe I was really pregnant anymore. But then one evening, the contractions didn't really stop. But they didn't get closer together or more intense either. Or rather, they'd get closer together….then further apart. More intense…then less intense. My doula came over after about four hours anyway. Just kept happening.
For the record, what both the hospital and my doula told me is that you should go into the hospital if you've had contractions about 5 minutes apart for an hour. I NEVER GOT THAT. That never actually happened. I spent all night, and the following morning, having contractions between like 6 and 16 minutes apart. More often if I was standing, less often if I was sitting. I literally slept that night in 8 minute spells between contractions. Labor sucks.
I gave up and went to the hospital early the next afternoon, when the contractions started getting seriously painful, to the point where I wanted someone to give me some drugs. The reason you don't want to go if you're not having the 5-minute contractions is that they will send you right back home until you are in what they call "active labor", and I really didn't want to go and come back. But I went, with Mr. E and the doula, and when they finally checked me out they said Oh yes you are at 5 centimeters dilated welcome to your room where you will be having a baby quite soon now. And they gave me some glorious, wonderful fentanyl. Mr. E really had to put his foot down about naming the baby Fentanyl.
So that was good enough for a while, and then eventually the contractions - though they were still totally irregular and not as frequent as they were supposed to be - got so painful that I asked for my epidural, and I got it. And it worked great, even better than last time, in that I never got fully numb and I could still move my legs by myself, but it killed the pain enough that I could breathe through it and rest. Actually it meant that I had that pins-and-needles sensation that you get when your body part is just falling asleep, in my entire lower body for several hours, which was no fun but much better than the alternative.
I was at 7 centimeters when I got the epidural, which was pretty depressing since I had been in the hospital for several hours at that point. Still, nothing to do but wait. So I waited. We waited. Dozed a little bit between the pain and the drugs. Hours passed. Contractions happened. Around about midnight I started to feel some familiar pressure, like…maybe it was time to start pushing? Maybe? I called the nurse, she called the doctor.
Doctor came in, got her gloves on, got her hand all up in my business. "Is she fully dilated?" asked the nurse." "YES, AND THE BABY IS CROWNING. DO NOT PUSH," said the doctor. "GET OVER HERE." "Let me just get the -" said the nurse. "TOO LATE. HERE COMES THE HEAD." said the doctor. And then about 30 seconds later I felt way, way better. And they handed me Rocket, who was slimy and disgusting and perfect.
So this labor was far more painful than the Junebug's - I don't remember any screaming with the Junebug at all, I think I got the epidural much earlier, but I put the epidural off with Rocket because the contractions were so irregular and I didn't want to slow them down any more - and much less exhausting. On the whole, more painful but less exhausting was a better deal.
My mom got here in time to stay with the Junebug while we were in the hospital, which was great. She stayed for a week and just went home today. They had a great time. She took him to the park, to the zoo…he had full time attention basically, so no competition for attention with the new baby. So he's coping great so far. And Mr. E and Rocket and I basically had a week of babymoon, just hanging out together and learning to nurse and staring dopily into his little face and so on.
But my mom went home tonight…and I am freaked out as hell. It's going to be fine. I know it's going to be fine. The Junebug will continue going to daycare. I will get time to rest and recover. I just…I am having weird emotional reactions to having more than one kid. I don't know how to prioritize! I - my whole emotional landscape got rearranged around a baby when I had the Junebug, and now I've had Rocket, and that baby space is already occupied, and I don't know what to do. The Junebug is so fun now - but it's like for every 30 seconds of fun, there's 10 seconds of telling him No, or use your inside voice, or DO NOT HIT MAMA, or such. It's exhausting. You don't have to fight with a baby like that. You just have to feed it and change it. Rocket is trying to rip my nipples off, for sure, but it's not his fault - he doesn't do it and then laugh and tell me "Funny!" But the Junebug is my little guy, and he shared his taco chips with me at dinner despite the fact that they are his favorite, and he wants me to read him books, and I love him, and…I just do not know how I feel. I am dreading the first time he hurts Rocket because I just don't know what I'm going to do.
And the Junebug already says that he misses his abuelita. ;_____;
Anyway, I need to go to bed. Expect more doofy hormonal ramblings in a few days, I'm sure.
Rocket was born in the wee hours a week ago.
Let me first massively, massively recommend not coming down with pre-eclampsia. I'm so glad I didn't know what the normal aftermath of a pregnancy feels like last time. I just assumed it was normal to feel like I had been run over by an entire fleet of trucks, and that everyone had to go through it. Everyone said "Oh, it takes longer to recover than you think," and it does, and at a week postpartum I am far from recovered, but I am also far from the weak-shuffle-between-the-bathroom-and-the-bedroom that was what I could manage a week after having the Junebug. Jesus. This is so much better.
I mean, I feel like I've been run over by one eighteen-wheeler truck. Which is not great, but, you know! Better.
I didn't have to get induced this time. I went into labor on my own. In a confusing and unclear way. I'd been having practice contractions for a while towards the end of the pregnancy. Actually over the previous couple of weeks I had two labor scares where I thought it was starting and then the contractions slowed down again and stopped. At this point I was convinced that my doula didn't actually believe I was really pregnant anymore. But then one evening, the contractions didn't really stop. But they didn't get closer together or more intense either. Or rather, they'd get closer together….then further apart. More intense…then less intense. My doula came over after about four hours anyway. Just kept happening.
For the record, what both the hospital and my doula told me is that you should go into the hospital if you've had contractions about 5 minutes apart for an hour. I NEVER GOT THAT. That never actually happened. I spent all night, and the following morning, having contractions between like 6 and 16 minutes apart. More often if I was standing, less often if I was sitting. I literally slept that night in 8 minute spells between contractions. Labor sucks.
I gave up and went to the hospital early the next afternoon, when the contractions started getting seriously painful, to the point where I wanted someone to give me some drugs. The reason you don't want to go if you're not having the 5-minute contractions is that they will send you right back home until you are in what they call "active labor", and I really didn't want to go and come back. But I went, with Mr. E and the doula, and when they finally checked me out they said Oh yes you are at 5 centimeters dilated welcome to your room where you will be having a baby quite soon now. And they gave me some glorious, wonderful fentanyl. Mr. E really had to put his foot down about naming the baby Fentanyl.
So that was good enough for a while, and then eventually the contractions - though they were still totally irregular and not as frequent as they were supposed to be - got so painful that I asked for my epidural, and I got it. And it worked great, even better than last time, in that I never got fully numb and I could still move my legs by myself, but it killed the pain enough that I could breathe through it and rest. Actually it meant that I had that pins-and-needles sensation that you get when your body part is just falling asleep, in my entire lower body for several hours, which was no fun but much better than the alternative.
I was at 7 centimeters when I got the epidural, which was pretty depressing since I had been in the hospital for several hours at that point. Still, nothing to do but wait. So I waited. We waited. Dozed a little bit between the pain and the drugs. Hours passed. Contractions happened. Around about midnight I started to feel some familiar pressure, like…maybe it was time to start pushing? Maybe? I called the nurse, she called the doctor.
Doctor came in, got her gloves on, got her hand all up in my business. "Is she fully dilated?" asked the nurse." "YES, AND THE BABY IS CROWNING. DO NOT PUSH," said the doctor. "GET OVER HERE." "Let me just get the -" said the nurse. "TOO LATE. HERE COMES THE HEAD." said the doctor. And then about 30 seconds later I felt way, way better. And they handed me Rocket, who was slimy and disgusting and perfect.
So this labor was far more painful than the Junebug's - I don't remember any screaming with the Junebug at all, I think I got the epidural much earlier, but I put the epidural off with Rocket because the contractions were so irregular and I didn't want to slow them down any more - and much less exhausting. On the whole, more painful but less exhausting was a better deal.
My mom got here in time to stay with the Junebug while we were in the hospital, which was great. She stayed for a week and just went home today. They had a great time. She took him to the park, to the zoo…he had full time attention basically, so no competition for attention with the new baby. So he's coping great so far. And Mr. E and Rocket and I basically had a week of babymoon, just hanging out together and learning to nurse and staring dopily into his little face and so on.
But my mom went home tonight…and I am freaked out as hell. It's going to be fine. I know it's going to be fine. The Junebug will continue going to daycare. I will get time to rest and recover. I just…I am having weird emotional reactions to having more than one kid. I don't know how to prioritize! I - my whole emotional landscape got rearranged around a baby when I had the Junebug, and now I've had Rocket, and that baby space is already occupied, and I don't know what to do. The Junebug is so fun now - but it's like for every 30 seconds of fun, there's 10 seconds of telling him No, or use your inside voice, or DO NOT HIT MAMA, or such. It's exhausting. You don't have to fight with a baby like that. You just have to feed it and change it. Rocket is trying to rip my nipples off, for sure, but it's not his fault - he doesn't do it and then laugh and tell me "Funny!" But the Junebug is my little guy, and he shared his taco chips with me at dinner despite the fact that they are his favorite, and he wants me to read him books, and I love him, and…I just do not know how I feel. I am dreading the first time he hurts Rocket because I just don't know what I'm going to do.
And the Junebug already says that he misses his abuelita. ;_____;
Anyway, I need to go to bed. Expect more doofy hormonal ramblings in a few days, I'm sure.
no subject
Congratulations!
(Unclear if you were soliciting advice, so I refrain, but I agree with you, you'll be fine.)
no subject
As it happens, today, the Junebug asked to hold Rocket. So he sat next to me on the sofa and held Rocket for a bit and I held Rocket's head and Rocket hiccupped which apparently was high-larious. So it went really well and I'm so happy. :DDDDD
no subject
Awwwwwwww. Siblings!
Hope things continue to settle in for everyone.