Ben's Birth Story: Part 2

Continued from Part 1...

I’m so pleased to say that getting the epidural was nowhere near as traumatic as I had expected. Perhaps it was the freezing, perhaps it was the relative pain compared to the contractions, perhaps I was just being delusional but I only felt a few soft taps before I was allowed to recline again.

Bliss…

The next few hours sort of meld together for me. After a few initial tweaks, the epidural had taken effect and I couldn’t feel a thing. I napped, I ate a Popsicle, I listened to the thub thub thubbing of the monitors and then napped some more. I didn’t have much to complain about except for my heavily bruised hands, arms and elbows that had been poked and prodded. A series of nurses came in to check in on me but for the most part we were left alone to rest. And so we did.

After a shift change, a new nurse came into our room, held my hand, and said in the sweetest most cheerful voice, “My name is Mona and today we’re going to have a baby.” A baby? Haha, oh yeah, that part! As far into labour as I was, it still hadn’t completely sunk in that I would be leaving this room with a baby. My baby.

The OB/GYN came into the room shortly thereafter for another internal exam. This time I felt absolutely nothing apart from a bit of pressure. No tears, no crying. What a difference modern medicine makes. She said I was 7cm dilated and was surprised at how quickly I was progressing especially with this being my first child. She thought this baby would be born before midnight. It was starting to become very real.

Less than an hour later it was time to push. The OB/GYN was there with her resident along with a Respiratory Therapist (for the baby). Danny was on one side, my nurse on the other bracing my legs on their hips. We were a team and we were going to do this!

I felt excited but I also wanted to do a good job pushing so I focused on that task first and foremost. I couldn’t feel my contractions nor could I feel the ‘urge’ to push so I relied on the nurse and the monitor to dictate when to start and for how long. I focused all of my energy downwards and pushed with all my might. It was hard but I just stayed present. I remember them coaching me along and saying ‘yes like that again’ but truthfully couldn’t feel the difference between a ‘good’ push and a ‘less effective’ push. But we kept going.

I was really pleased at how calm everyone in the room was. The last thing I wanted was a team of over-zealous cheerleader types. That being said, the atmosphere wasn’t totally solemn either. At one point between contractions the resident decided to style the baby’s visible hair ‘just like Daddy’s’, which I thought, was cute. Even when it was discovered that the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck (twice) the OB just referred to it as a pearl necklace instead of using language that would likely panic a first time mom.

At 2339h and with one final push our Benjamin Alexander arrived. Immediately after Danny cut the cord Ben was placed on my chest for some skin-to-skin time. There was this little creature all puffy and swollen but all ours. I choked back some tears as I studied all his little features. His curly dark hair, long finger and these wonderful brown eyes. This was the little rib-kicker living inside me for the past nine plus months? This will be the boy I take care of and tuck in at night? We created this little boy and he is ours to keep? I couldn’t stop staring in awe.

After a few minutes the respiratory therapist took Ben aside to clean him off and assess his vitals. The OB/GYN and resident were nearly done stitching me up and my nurse had collected the cord blood. I was relieved that the process was over but also couldn’t believe how fast it had all happened.

For the next few hours the three of us were allowed to stay in the L&D room. I tried getting Ben to latch on, the lights were dimmed, I was brought a tuna sandwich (much to Danny’s dismay as he was starving too but hates fish) and my nurse popped in for the occasional update. But, for the most part we were left alone to enjoy the first few moments of being a new family.

When I regained enough sensation and strength in my legs I was transported to the recovery unit on the tenth floor. Riding in the wheelchair holding our bundled boy in my arms was a feeling I’ll never forget. Exiting that dark quiet L&D room where all the action took place behind closed doors into the bright noisy halls of the hospital for all to see was almost like our debut into reality. We passed the nurses station where I received smiles and congratulatory messages. I tried to convey a look of encouragement to a labouring mother walking the halls. It felt like a lifetime had passed in just the span of a few short hours.

When I got settled in my recovery room shortly after 3am I sent Danny home for some much needed food and rest. Although I knew that sleeping was the smart thing to do, I found myself checking Facebook updates on my phone. Perhaps I was craving some semblance of ‘normalcy’ in this day of overwhelming change. The nurse came in to help me to the bathroom but unbeknownst to me I ended up peeing all over the floor on my hobble over. Glamorous right? Luckily she took it all in stride and got me cleaned up and re-settled in bed.

As I lay in bed I reflected on the events of the day. How much had happened. How much had changed. I recalled the way Danny held our first-born son with such natural confidence and pride - as if he had been prepared for this moment his whole life. I knew he would make a wonderful dad. You see, not only did I fall in love with my new little boy that day but I also fell deeper in love with his father. I watched Ben through heavy eyelids sleeping in a basket next to me and I finally drifted off too; a new mom, a new baby and a new life ahead.

Ben's Birth Story: Part 1

When something significant happens in my life, I often want to document and record the experience in the very best way possible. I want it to sound profound and poetic, be something I can reflect on and be proud of for years to come. Unfortunately, however, these self-imposed expectations more often than not create so much inward pressure that I end up paralyzed and write nothing. So I’m going to try and surrender to that doubting voice and just write my story because at the end of the day it’s worth documenting, imperfections and all.

Ben’s Birth Story

It all began on Christmas Day… I had reached my official due date and there was absolutely no indication that this baby would be appearing any time soon. After indulging in turkey, mashed potatoes and all the fixings my family and I sat around the kitchen table and we played Scrabble.

I had been wondering for months how and when this baby would arrive. I had researched the requisite baby books and websites, read various birth stories, talked to families and friends about their personal experiences and spoke with my OB/GYN. But I knew labour was something I would never be fully ready for and that I’d just have to deal with it as best as I could while it progressed.

During the final few weeks leading up to my due date I had felt a lot of aches, pains and weird twinges that constantly left me wondering, “Is this going to develop into something?” I worried that I’d go into labour the week in December when Danny was on call and wouldn’t be able to get away easily. Then there were days I was so tired of being pregnant that I wished, even begged to feel contractions and get this party started. But there we were on Christmas Day, my due date reached, playing Scrabble and feeling diddley squat.

Late that night Danny and I walked (or more like paced) up and down, up and down, up and down our condo. It seemed a little silly but I wanted to get things going and if that meant an hour of pacing at two in the morning then so be it.

At 0700h on Boxing Day I woke up with a very tight and slightly painful feeling in my abdomen. Hmmm, I thought, this definitely feels like something. And sure enough, my contractions began.

I spent the first few hours labouring at home, mostly in our bedroom. It wasn’t completely awful but it was definitely uncomfortable and increasing in intensity over time. We started recording my contractions. Twenty minutes apart. Twelve minutes apart. Ten minutes apart. Danny brought me a peanut butter and jam sandwich (girl’s gotta eat – who knows when my next meal will be?) and stayed by my side most of the morning rubbing my back or holding my hand while I tried to find a position to relieve the pain of the next contraction. My parents and sister were occupying themselves quietly in the other rooms but would come in from time to time to offer a glass of milk, a cup of chicken noodle soup or some encouraging words.

To my great surprise, time was going by very quickly. By around 1200h my contractions were averaging seven minutes apart. I wasn’t feeling desperate or completely out of control but I definitely wanted some thing to help relieve the pain. I didn’t, however, want to go to the hospital too early. The idea of leaving my ‘safe’ place, putting on boots, jackets, grabbing bags, driving to the hospital, walking through the building and being assessed by triage only to be sent home was not appealing. I only wanted to make that trip once. So I held out for a while longer.

At 1400h Danny said it was time to go. My contractions had consistently been five minutes apart for over an hour, I was very uncomfortable and there was little chance of things slowing down. Reluctantly, I agreed.

My dad drove us the short few blocks to the hospital. I remember wanting to minimize the number of contractions I had ‘in public’ (silly, I know) so we waited a couple minutes before I got out of the car. As soon as my last wave finished I stepped outside. My plan didn’t hold for long, however, as I found myself bearing down on a planter not thirty feet from the hospital entrance wincing in pain. My loving dad snapped a photo on his iPhone because ‘that’s what my uncle Ted would do’. Thanks Dad.

The admitting area was totally empty (hooray) but I swear the guy collecting my information was more interested in making small talk with Danny than hurrying things along. I had submitted my admission papers weeks ago so what was the hold up? Perhaps I wasn’t making enough noise?

We took the elevator up to the seventh floor for triage. Again, it was relatively empty. My contractions were about three to four minutes apart. I got changed into my dressing gown and we waited for an assessment. Because it was Boxing Day, a statutory holiday, there wasn’t a lot of staff on hand so we had to wait a while for the resident to come by. In the mean time, I had three failed attempts to get an IV started (did I mention how much I hate needles?) and was hooked up to the monitors.  The contractions continued. I wondered aloud if this is what an exorcism looked like, retaining however slight, a semblance of my lame sense of humour.

The resident still hadn’t come by to see me so the ward nurse did my internal exam to determine how far along I was. I’m not going to lie, this was the most painful experience thus far and I burst into tears. Normally I would have been horrified at drawing attention to myself in this manner but I didn’t care. It was awful. I felt a warm gush of liquid – she had broke my water. No need to see the resident any longer; it was go time. Bring on the epidural.

Danny tells me that we walked over to my labour and delivery room a few doors down, stopping once for a contraction, but I honestly don’t recall this at all. All I remember is thinking, ‘this L&D room is huge’. It was all very surreal.

I felt a mixture of dread and relief when the anesthesiologist entered the room. On one hand… pain relief was coming but on the other hand… I had to get a big scary needle. I realize how asinine this sounds in retrospect but it was honestly what I was feeling. However, after a few rounds of very intense contractions and two more failed attempts before an IV was inserted successfully, my fear shifted from ‘how much is this needle going to hurt’ to ‘how the heck am I going to stay still through this procedure? I buried my head against Danny’s chest while they taped up my back in preparation. 

Deep Breaths.

Three Months: Oh Deer!

Well Mr. Benji Bear, we made it to three months! There were lots of changes and developments - some more welcome than others - but overall I'm loving this stage!

Ben has been so interactive this month. Each morning and after most naps I am greeted with the biggest smiles and giggles (and we all know it's not gas even though there's no shortage of that stuff either). But it doesn't stop at just smiles - now he chatters and sings with us too. We like to make different facial expressions or sounds and play copy-cat. Grandma and Grandpa especially love getting these videos. This month Ben also realized his fist was attached to his arm and he could put it in his mouth! It's better than any toy or pacifier, that's for sure. All of his shirts are now wet at the cuff but he doesn't seem to mind. But if he is annoyed or bored with something he sure doesn't hesitate to let us know. This kid is stubborn (just like his parents?) and isn't afraid of speaking up when he wants something.

We also made some sleep milestones this month. The night of March 7th he slept and astounding ten hours straight! I couldn't believe it. Normally we're averaging six hours sleep + feed + two more hours sleep a night. I'm not sure what he's dreaming about but laughs and scowls always seem to come from his bassinet. Ben also hit the 'I refuse to nap during the day phase' which was a lot less fun. Inconsolable fussing for 12 hours straight one day and 10 hours the next. We tried everything we could possibly think of but I'm going to attribute it to just being over-tired and crabby. Thankfully he seems to be back on schedule today.

Unlike last month when we had a surplus of visitors this month has been relatively quiet. We still go to Mommy & Me group sessions and chat with Pedro, Harrison and Elea but is is usually just the two (or three) of us hanging out. We've gone swimming in the pool a couple of times - something Ben's enjoyed since he's first dip at 5 weeks. We also took advantage of some crazy warm spring weather and took Ben to the beach. He slept in the stroller while mom took photos of clouds and kites. It was a treat just to get out.

Who's to say what will happen with spring around the corner?

Can I get a Heat Wave?

We've been enjoying some insane weather here lately - completely unprecedented for this time of year. While my parents and friends back west deal with yet another round of shovelling sidewalks and treacherous road conditions from the latest blizzard, we are basking in the heat! 

Windows are open, table fan is on, lemonade is flowing freely and I won't even complain about the sweat collecting on my brow.

Bring on Summer!

Prairie Girl Cupcakes

Last weekend, after a trip to the Farmer's Market, we popped in at a little shop called "Prairie Girl Bakery". Being a prairie girl myself, I though we should take a look. Really though, who walks into a cupcake store just to look? We decided on 1/2 dozen mini cupcakes to sample, split them each in half, and rated them on a somewhat arbitrary five point scale.

(1) Butterscotch Caramel (3/5) - This was their 'feature of the day' cupcake. The texture was pretty good but the icing was too sweet. Not too memorable.

(2) Dark Cocoa Strawberry (3/5). The chocolate was nice and rich but the strawberry was way too artificial. I prefer strawberries to taste like strawberries, not sugary candy berries.

(3) Vanilla Lemon (2/5) Plain and simple, this cupcake was old! It tasted stale from the first bite and neither Danny nor I had much incentive to even finish our little portion. Too bad - this is probably quite a refreshing treat -- when it is fresh!

(4) Dark Cocoa Peppermint (3/5) The peppermint was a nice cool contrast to the dark chocolate but didn't stand out as 'the best I'd ever have'.

(5) Banana Peanutbutter (4/5) I had my hopes up for this cupcake and it was overall my favourite. The banana was moist and the peanut butter icing had the right combination of sweet and salty.

(6) Red Velvet Cream Cheese (3/5) Danny thought this one was alright but I tasted something spicy in the cake (not in a good way) and couldn't get over it.

I had high hopes that we had found our little neighbourhood cupcake boutique, but overall we were a bit disappointed. In all fairness, we were totally comparing them to our absolute favourite cupcake shop back home, Crave, but I can't help but feel that Prairie Girl came up a bit short. Were they better than grocery store cupcakes? Of course. Were we harsh judges? Perhaps. Will we go back? Not likely. Oh well - at least we tried and had fun playing food critics!

* Not being endorsed in any way whatsoever to do a review of this bakery. Just something we chose to do for fun. Feel free to go try them out for yourself. We're just one opinion of many.

The Neighbourhood Farmer's Market

A few days ago, Danny and I watched the documentary Food Inc. and it got us thinking a bit about what we are putting in our bodies and where that food was coming from. Although we're not planning to make any radical lifestyle changes, we did decide to try out our local farmer's market this weekend.

It was a chilly but sunny morning so we bundled up tight and walked to the market. It was bustling with all sorts of people, vendors and produce to be sold. We did a quick walk around to scope out our options and purchased a few items along the way.

Goodies from our adventure included: Organic beef and chicken patties, smoked gouda, garlic pork sausages, sirloin steak, two types of extra lean ground beef, carrots, beets, mangoes, cabbage rolls, pure apple cider, and a bushel of pussy willows. We also picked up half a dozen mini cupcakes near by (more on that later).

Ben slept through most of our trip but was more than happy to inspect the goods once we got home.

Why are you standing on a chair, Mom?

It was a great way to spend a Saturday morning and I'm actually excited to do some cooking (a rare occurrence for me). I think we're going to make the Farmer's Market a regular stop in our weekend routine. I cannot wait to see what the spring and summer months bring.

Yum!

A Trip to Niagara Falls

Do you ever feel like you're so busy doing things but don't feel like you're actually accomplishing anything substantial? That's how I've been feeling lately. My days are spent working frantically in front of the computer organizing and coordinating and researching for events in our future and yet I feel like I have little to show for it. The days are starting to blend together and I'm like, whoa, it's March already?

But we did do some fun trips recently and I have photos to prove it. As mentioned earlier, Danny's family came to visit us Ben in February for ten days. We spent most of the time in Toronto but did make a trip out to Niagara falls to tip toe on some very slippery pavement and shield our faces from the sharp ice crystals showering down when the wind picked up. And it was fun!

Tim Hortons - an absolute necessity for this chilly day! 

Three generations in front of the falls.

My little trooper... didn't complain one bit!

Hanging out with Uncle and Aunty.

I'd been to the falls once before with Danny and his family had been there a few times too. However, none of us had seen Niagara at night before. We strolled up the craziness that is Clifton Street where we indulged in some wood fired pizza and then walked back to our car while admiring the lit up falls through our tightly pulled hoods.

We got absolutely soaked on our walk back. Luckily I packed an extra pair of pants for the drive home. Nothing like sitting in wet denim - yuck! 

I'm not sure when we'll travel to Niagara again but I'll always look back on it with fond memories.