At this point, I doubt anyone reads my blog anymore, except Adrian, considering how slack I've been about updating. But hey, cut me some slack. I pumped out a kid. Things in AmandaLand have been a wee bit topsy-turvy.
By some strange force, I managed to give birth on January 22 which I had previously stated as my goal. The process of labor and delivery was a surreal experience. First off, all modesty goes totally out the window. I don't think my hoo-ha will ever command such rapt attention from total strangers ever again. Nothing like having someone's arm practically up to the elbow inside you as they fumble about your cervix. Also, it's amazing the amount of fluid contained in a pregnant woman's belly. God bless my husband who didn't freak his shit the moment he witnessed my water breaking all over the bed. My uterine levees broke and whoosh! Out came Lake Pontchartrain from my netheregions. Thank goodness I had the most awesome L&D nurse ever. She kept me clean, calm, and human throughout the rather gross and painful parts of it all. Plus, Adrian was an excellent birth partner. Always by my side and utterly supportive.
Oh and the pain. It was as if my internal organs decided to go off-roading and I was just along for the ride. Definitely some of the worst pain I've ever experienced. People keep telling me how impressed they are that I gave birth sans epidural. Honestly, once I was far enough along, I was too busy being in labor to think about drugs. I actually just got pissed at the pain when it was really bad. Pushing was the hardest part. After hours of contractions that increased in severity, I was suddenly told to push, push harder, and that I wasn't pushing hard enough. Yeah, I didn't care for that. Pushing was work. That and the pushing hurt like a motherfucker. Whoo. I don't know how I managed to keep from breaking Adrian's hands during the pushing, but I did manage to give myself some little red freckles from broken capillaries. What was especially fun was after hours of being commanded to Push! once the baby began to crown, I was told to stop pushing and actually fight the urge to push while we all waited for the doctor to arrive. Yeah, that was fun.
Once the baby emerged, all the crazy pain and grossness became totally worth it. I didn't actually see him come forth probably because I was still so focused on the pushing (which meant my head was on my chest and my eyes squeezed shut). But when the doctor lifted him up to see, my first reaction was "Holy cow. That came from me?" Alastair let out a nice, healthy wail (He wailed for quite some time out of the womb. Damn, my kid has lungs.) and all was well in the world.
My postpartum stay was a continuation of the L&D excitement. For two days I was continually monitored, poked, and prodded by a succession of nurses. In that short time, I was also overwhelmed with information about the care and feeding of this tiny living creature that only recently emerged from my body. Adrian and I didn't get a ton of sleep at the hospital, but the food was pretty good.
Anyway, now I've been home almost two whole weeks with Little A. It's been a roller coaster ride of emotions from utter joy to panic to sleep-deprived frustration. I feel a bit like a cow with the two-hour feedings, and my current obsession has been with finding the perfect nursing bra (Medela seamless underwire). There's been a certain sadness in knowing that all the work done on Operation Skinny Bitch has been undone and now I am back to square one. Guess it's time to start Operation Banish the Baby Belly in coordination with a future maneuver-Operation Bridesmaid Dress.
During these first few post-partum weeks, we’ve also discovered how awesome our friends and family are. We have had a steady stream of dinners prepared for us and even a few friends brave enough to come over to Casa Newborn for a meal. Cards and presents have been pouring in, along with lots of phone calls. Man, we’ve never been so popular.
I could go on about the crazy times we've had. Like how I never knew the peeing power of a newborn until my son sprayed everything within a three foot radius. But Alastair has started his nightly screaming routine that will last until about 3 a.m. I have now come to enjoy late night network television (What's the deal with Smallville? I found it quite lame.). Adrian started back to work today, so hopefully I can begin carving out regular blog time to update Adventures in Parenthood.
For now I am going to try and scrounge up some hot chocolate and steel myself for another sleep-light evening with Little A.
Over and out.