Thursday, September 29, 2011

A very destroyed year...


The Destroyer is a one year old. Has been for 5 days now. I'm having a real hard time accepting that a year has come and gone since this tiny person came into my life. If it goes this fast how will I prevent myself from missing it? 

It has been the best year of my life though, I know that much. Sure, lack of sleep around 4 months was a bitch, I cried a lot, my hormones are screwed, and there has been an intense load of stress but it's a worthy price for the shitload of awesome I've been privileged enough to receive. In fact, I would have given up a lot more or gone through more crap to get what I have in my son.

But that's enough uber mush. Raine has done quite a bit of learning and growing over this last year. Quite the little intellectual he is although lazy as hell....much like his dad (although I wouldn't say The Cuddler is lazy....more like "non physical").

He's talking quite a bit. "mama", "dada", "hi", "nana" (for bananas), and more recently "kitty cat" are the clearest words that at least I can understand. I'm pretty sure HE thinks he's communicating quite well with all the babbling he does. He's also picked up the habit of "singing". He'll hum or sort of imitate the melody of specific songs he's familiar with but is learning to imitate just about any song he hears. Like a freaking parrot. He's already signing (sign language) some too though. 

Unfortunately he's not crawling, walking, or too mobile. He loves to stand or walk with the aid of his parents and if I stand him against the couch, table, etc he'll cruise around a little teensy bit but otherwise it's like he couldn't give a crap. His doctor isn't worried. Says Raine is perfectly fine physically and mentally but if he doesn't get his lazy butt in gear by 15 months then we may need to get a physical therapist so there WON'T be any problems. I think if I give him more floor time he'll blossom in that area too. The more he's left to his own devices the more he kind of figures it out so it should do the trick.

My little man has eight teeth and I think those evil molars are next to sprout up the way he keeps rubbing at his ears. He's extremely social much to the dismay of his antisocial parents. Grocery shopping sucks when he's gabbing to strangers who in turn talk to us....we don't like people ;) He LOVES pasta. It's ridiculous how much he loves it. Any kind. He likes most food really but only if he can feed himself. Once you try to help out he pitches a fit. He's pretty independent like that and in a lot of other areas.

Today I caught him putting the correct block shapes inside of the correct shaped holes of one of his puzzle toys. Boggles my mind that he can rationalize these things already. I love watching his little mind develop although it's bittersweet at times.

He's not going to be my little baby forever. He isn't going to always cuddle up in my lap (heck, soon he won't fit!) or view me as the center of his universe. Someday he's going to leave his "mama" to start his own life and my heart breaks at the thought of it. Yet I'm proud every time he learns something new and with each new milestone reached. I look forward to the years to come, the fun we'll have as he grows older. But still I cry for him to slow down and be my little Beaker just a little while longer.

Motherhood hasn't been what I expected. It's been so much freaking better than what I feared. I dare say, I think I'm pretty good at it too. Feels like a natural fit and that's something for someone who didn't know one darn thing about kids. I can't believe I almost missed out on this. I'm glad I was actually allowed the miracle of having this..... and dammit, I brought the mushy back.

Friday, September 23, 2011

The Birth of The Destroyer


Today Raine is a year old. I can't believe it's been a whole year already. I figured it appropriate to post his birth story today. Many have already read it from the old blog but I just think it's fitting. 

Note: Just a warning, there is some senstive subject matter and of course a little TMI.

I spent SO many months (nearly 10 in fact) worrying over the birth of our son and it didn't turn out nearly as bad as I had thought. Well, not bad at all really. In fact, it was sort of funking easy. Some rough bumps here and there but nothing I couldn't handle. Some things went as planned while others couldn't possibly be expected but I would have to judge it to be a positive experience....heck, I may even do it again.

I was convinced along with everyone else that The Destroyer would be early. I stayed with the bartending right up until 2 weeks before my due date and I remained pretty active even afterward figuring there was some truth in the wives tale that the more active you are the earlier they come and the easier labor is. That was shot to hell when my due date of September 15th came and went. I started to get a little worked up because I was so against being induced. To me, being induced = c section and I WAS NOT having that. I had every intention of going as long as medically possible without an induction just praying this brat would come on his own but at my 41 week appointment my OB examined me and decided that the boy was simply getting too big (8-8 1/2 pounds) and an induction was scheduled to start that evening.

That afternoon (September 22nd) we went out to eat and then stopped home for last minute preparations before we headed to the hospital. I cried like a freaking baby through all of this. I was truly terrified. If you asked me to explain my terror I couldn't. I knew it would be painful and I wasn't fearful of that and I had a good idea of how everything was going to work but I was still numb with fright. Poor Jimmy, he had no clue what to do. But the kid HAD to come out either way so I had no choice but to head to the hospital.

Once there they showed us to our room and ordered me into one of their crappy, uncomfortable hospital gowns. The game plan was to start me on cytotec to soften my cervix (I was not dilated at all and my cervix was hard and high. No signs that things were going to happen on their own) overnight and then start pitocin in the morning to start my labor. My doctor predicted that I would have the baby sometime the following evening. I was hooked up to the fetal monitor, the contraction monitor, and monitors to check my blood pressure and heart rate. All plugged in and I hated it. Around 5 p.m. doc placed the cytotec (looked like a tiny zantac tablet) on my cervix and I was ordered to lay flat on my back for two hours. Isn't that what got me here?

I faced each silly fear in stages after that. First up was the IV. I was relieved to learn that I didn't need one in both my arm and my hand but a little concerned that out of the two it was to be my hand. Never had one there before and it made me queasy just thinking about it but it turned out to be a piece of cake. One stupid fear down, a million to go.
At 7 p.m. I was allowed to get up and use the bathroom. They gave me a light dinner which I was overjoyed to discover was a turkey sandwich. I had been craving one the whole damn pregnancy! My mother and my cousin came to visit for a bit and around 10 p.m. everyone left and we tried to settle in for what we thought was going to be a long, boring night. Not so much....

I had been having painless contractions pretty much the whole pregnancy which had increased in strength and frequency (yet still painless) throughout the night. I didn't think much of them seeing as I had always had them and they had proven to be worthless as far as progressing me towards labor. Around 11:45 p.m., just as Jimmy began to softly snore, I had one of these "silent" contractions and at the tail end of it I felt and HEARD a pop! I shot up super fast and started freaking out. Jimmy woke with a start and all I could think of to tell him was that the baby had broken his shoulder. His first reaction was to laugh of course and then he proceeded to try and calm me down. Then it happened again and this time HE heard the pop as well (later he described it as the sound you make when you first bite into a sausage casing. That "pop" sound) and at that point even he was concerned. 

I demanded that he call the nurse immediately.
She of course came running to our room wondering what the heck I was going on about. I was panicking at this point, I couldn't breath. I was convinced that what I had heard and felt was the baby breaking a bone. I didn't know any better, ok? She was just as confused as we were. She suggested we wait for the next contraction to see if it would happen again but I had other plans. I was freaking out so bad I just wanted to get out of bed and go sit in the rocking chair in my room. The nurse unhooked me from my prison of wires and as she was doing so she asked "are you sure it wasn't your water breaking?" to which I replied "water? what water? If my water broke wouldn't there BE water?!" then I took one step towards the chair and the Atlantic ocean spilled forth from between my legs.
Things got pretty chaotic from there. The adrenaline from it all sent me into a full blown panic attack which raised my blood pressure quite a bit. They decided to check for dilation to be safe and the nurse surprised us when she said I was dilated 8 centimeters! Yay!! But my mind started racing. I knew that no matter what, I didn't want to face pushing without my epidural. I wanted to be there during the birth of my son not off in la la land in tremendous amounts of pain (I tend to deal with pain by simply zoning out into it, feeling it to get through it rather than cry about it) so I became frantic begging the nurse to go have my eppie prepared. Off she went to look for the anesthesiologist while we called my mom and my cousin to tell them to get their asses back to the hospital. Things were going faster than planned.

You see, as I previously stated, the cytotec was only supposed to SOFTEN my cervix NOT send me into full blown labor so this was all completely unexpected. Now here I was 8 centimeters dilated....or so I thought. A senior nurse walked in and asked if she could just do a dilation check one more time to make sure before I was to have my eppie. We were disappointed to discover that I was in fact only dilated 2 centimeters. In the excitement the other nurse had misjudged things a bit. My epidural was put on hold until I was at least four centimeters and the nurses contacted my doc
tor to let him know that I was indeed in early labor.

At about 1 a.m. the more painful contractions started and this is where things became a little difficult for me. At first they were easily tolerated. I couldn't talk through them but I could breath through them fine and I was beginning to relax. Nothing more than undulating period cramps in my opinion and that was acceptable to me. I was sort of forced to remain on the bed so that I could still be hooked up to all the monitors so there wasn't many positions to choose from and NONE of them were comfortable. Besides, I was making a mess ;) When you hear about your water breaking they don't tell you it just continues to effin gush out of you.

Within an hour the contractions began to pick up a bit. Still tolerable but I was beginning to do that zoning out thing I mentioned. I was ripped out of that though when a stronger contraction hit me out of nowhere. (Jimmy was able to watch the monitor to see their strength. I'm not sure how it works entirely but he was able to shout numbers at me. 60 being a mild contraction while a stronger contraction being a 90-120's) I tensed up and began to freak. It wasn't the pain (a higher contraction in the 120's ouchies!!) that was ripping me apart though. It was the fact that this pain was all too familiar. To be blunt, it was the same pain I had experienced when I was raped. The same pain I felt when my cervix was being damaged during that unfortunate experience.

This sent me into an emotional tailspin that I was forced to internalize for the most part in order to deal with the pain. I was also ashamed to clue anyone around me in as to what I was emotionally going through at this time. On top of all that I was angry. I was angry because the amazing birth of my son was being tainted by an experience I had to suffer through more than 12 years earlier. This changed things entirely for me. I was immediately traumatized, hurt, and livid and it was at this point that I vowed to myself that I would never do this again. It wasn't the pain that turned me off to the whole experience (and I won't lie.....it didn't fucking tickle) it was the flashbacks to that crappy shit that flipped it all upside down.

I begged James to get the nurse. Because of all these emotions all I wanted to do was push and I knew that doing so could hurt me or the baby. The nurse came in and I begged her to check my dilation. I just wanted the epidural knowing that with the numbing of the pain that I could forget about what exactly it was representing to me. Sadly, she informed me I was only dilated to a 2 1/2 and offered me some
Stadol to help things along. I refused it at first because I had read that it doesn't provide you much pain relief but that it makes you feel drunk and makes you a bit nauseous as well. A half hour later my mother convinced me to take it though when I begged for the nurse again to only find out I was dilated to 3. They administered the stadol and informed me my doctor was on his way in to check me himself before I could have the epidural.

I labored on the stadol for another hour. I vaguely remember Jimmy rubbing my head and falling asleep between contractions. Apparently I was saying some hilarious shit at this point but I can't fucking remember. Basically it was like drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels all to yourself without all the spinning that comes with it.  It did nothing for the pain though but I had expected that. I would have a contraction and deal with the emotional aspect of it then fall asleep forgetting that I was even in labor to begin with until the next contraction hit....which was a minute and a half later because they were probably a little under two minutes apart at this point.

Once the stadol began to wear off (about an hour later) I was demanding to see my doctor (who was AT the hospital but off dilly dallying somewhere) and off the nurse went to retrieve him. In he walks with this big doofy grin on his face (come here, Doc...let me smack you) and asks me how I am doing. "I want my epidural" I say with what I imagine to be a pretty heavy scowl on my face. He giggles "ok, ok, let me check you". I was a "loose" 3 1/2 centimeters so he went ahead and ordered the eppie for me. Figuring I would have to wait another 20 minutes for the anesthesiologist I asked for another round of stadol. I was surprised to see him show up five minutes later just as they were injecting it into my IV.

The anesthesiologist went through the procedure with me but I can't remember a dang thing he said once the stadol hit. All I remember were the contractions and looking at him like he was an angel sent from heaven. I signed the consent form and we got down to business. Now, at this point my contractions were staying steady in the 120's and I was forced to suffer through them laying elevated (nearly sitting up) on my back in the bed. In order to do the eppie I had to sit up with my legs hanging off of the side of the bed and arch my back with my head down to my chest into the nurse who supported me. I waited patiently while he prepared the needle all the while praying that he would do it in between contractions. Jimmy asked me how I was doing and I simply replied "fine". He seemed confused when he asked "really?". I got nervous "yeah, why?!" and that's when he informed me that I was having some off the charts strong contractions and I wasn't even flinching....I could barely feel them!! It turns out that being curled up in the position I needed to be in for the anesthesiologist was helping me labor easier. I wish I had KNOWN THAT!

Getting the epidural was painless and easy. I felt nothing but a slight pinch when he numbed me and things got really calm really fast. I could still feel my legs which freaked me out at first thinking it wasn't working until the anesthesiologist explained to me that I should only get numb from my belly down to my pelvis. I was given a push button that I could press up to every half hour to administer more of the drug to keep me numb which I may have abused a tad ;D With the pain gone I was also relieved from the emotional baggage and the flashbacks it brought with it. I was free to relax both physically and emotionally through the rest of my labor. I informed James that I would now be turning down his marriage proposal because I was in fact now marrying the anesthesiologist....

It was now early morning (5 a.m. - ish?) and we all settled in to rest while my body did it's thing painlessly. My doctor now predicted we would meet The Destroyer by noon time. At 7 a.m. the nurse came in to insert the catheter which was another thing I had been obsessing over the whole pregnancy but alas I didn't even feel it due to the eppie. Another fear overcome. At 8 a.m. my doctor checked me again and found me dilated to 5 centimeters. He ordered a small amount of pitocen just to make sure my labor continued to progress and that the epidural didn't stall it. I slept on and off and the new nurse (shift change) had me start flipping from side to side in order to help the baby descend down to prepare for birth. I could feel the pressure created when he was moving and during contractions but I felt no pain. At around 11 a.m. my doctor checked me yet again and announced that we were at 10 centimeters. I was allowed to rest a little longer for my body to naturally do it's thing and we started practice pushing around 11:15 a.m.
I overheard a snippet of conversation between the nurse and my doctor in which they were discussing how they believed that I would be pushing for AT LEAST a couple of hours due to my small size and the larger size of The Destroyer. Figuring it would be some time, my doctor left to do something (lunch?) while I did some pushing with the nurse, Jimmy and my cousin as my coaches.

Pushing sucked. Not that it was painful because all I could feel was pressure from contractions which told me WHEN to push but they tell you to push as if you were having a bowel movement and all that seemed to be doing was give me a headache and a purple face. The nurse would have me rotate on my sides and also on my back, having me push in all sorts of positions while she held one leg and James the other. At some point though (maybe after 3 sets of pushes?) I realized that this way wasn't cutting it, that we were going to be here forever and I was ready to be done with this whole thing. So instead of pushing as if I was seriously constipated I began to push with my stomach muscles similar to doing ab crunches (tae bo baby) and it worked!

This is where James should be commended. I thought for sure that when it came time to deliver our son that he would be a little squeamish in the delivery room. If anything that he would just sit by my head holding my hand until it was over. In fact, he had TOLD me on numerous occasions that he had watched enough online and that he wasn't very interested in seeing the real thing. I wasn't bothered by it because I needed him there for me instead of enthralled with the mutilation of my crotch anyway.
When it was go time though he did so much more than that. He participated fully in the labor and even the nurse who was orchestrating it took a few steps back to mostly let us do it on our own. It was him and I and we were determined to bring this kid into the world. Sounds mushy, I know but it's also true. With each set of pushes he did the work WITH me rather than help me to do it all on my own. He would lift my upper body into the contraction so I wouldn't strain my neck trying to do my ab pushes supporting me during the push then forcing me to relax for rest periods. He did just as much work as I did and I am not sure how many woman can say that about their significant others.

I think it was at this point that the nurse realized I was going to have this kid out WAY before they initially thought and she paged my doctor to hurry his ass back. The Doctor came in, scrubbed up super quick, and joined us. Within 5 minutes, after a half hour of pushing, The Destroyer was born at 11:47 a.m. all purple and screaming his effing head off weighing  9lbs 9oz (THAT'S NOT 8LBS, DOC!!) and measuring 21 inches long. The first words out of my mouth were "where's my newborn?!" because I had basically just given birth to a 3 month old.....

They plopped him on my tummy and all was right in the world. They carted him off to clean him up and repairing me was the next order of business. I tore pretty bad. We spent two days in the hospital and then I was sent waddling home. After much debate we finally named him Raine which means "abundance from above". Healing was a chore but I never really expected any less. Besides, the percocets helped a tad ;) 

Emotionally healing has actually been a little tougher for obvious reasons. I came home determined to not have any more children because I don't want to relive the rape again in that way. I can't deny that overall my experience was very easy in comparison to some other horror stories I have heard though. This alone has semi changed my mind on possibly having more. Once I get over the emotional hump I was left with then anything is possible. I kind of like our little three person family though. I don’t know, Maybe once Raine is AT LEAST making his own breakfast....


Thursday, September 22, 2011

Conversations With The Cuddler

{Conversations with The Cuddler posts are excerpts of conversations with my husband, James. It's a peek at the hilarious, sometimes bazaar, always nonsensical topics that come up around here. In short, my husband just says the darndest things.}


If you know Ready For The World's hit "Oh Sheila" (if you don't are you living under a rock?!) you'll understand the following conversation... 

 While watching some weird movie on tv a character just says "Oh, Sheila..." and of course we start singing as we are prone to do.

Jimmy (singing): Oh Sheila
Me: Let me love you till the morning comes... 
Jimmy: I thought it was money? "Love you till the MONEY comes". 
Me: Well, you were wrong (and I must of course prove it to him) 
Me: Why would you love anyone till the MONEY comes? That makes zero sense.
Jimmy: I thought she was a hooker... 

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

A Day at the Fair

This past weekend we decided to take a break from wedding/honeymoon/first birthday planning to take a break and bring Raine to our local annual fair for the first time. Well, unless you count last year as the first but he was still in my belly ;) We had so much fun and the break was certainly needed. I am finding that little things like this are WAY more fun with kids. I can't remember ever enjoying this fair this much before my son came along. Just seeing his reactions and the big smile on his face made it's awesome factor skyrocket. 

Little bit of a dreary, Rainy day but that didn't bother us.

I think Raine was more interested in their food than the animals themselves.

Sheep!

Some animals, Raine simply couldn't be bothered. We have a lot of animals at home so he may just be desensitized.

Love this picture

Smiling because it was windy. Raine loves wind =)

Cotton Candy?

He's contemplating it. He ended up loving it and demanding more.




 
He loved the heck out of this!

Wind!



Raine's favorite aunty Melinda. She was working a booth at the fair =)

He's giggly a lot around her.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

The Destroyer Says No

Raine has started understanding and shaking his head no. Getting a lot of fussiness when we tell him no now and he has no problem telling us no when he doesn't want to do something either. As you can clearly see....



I'm in trouble now!

Friday, September 2, 2011

Hipstamatic Boy

Been grabbing a ton of shots of Raine lately. He's growing up so fast and I don't want to miss a minute of it. God, he's barely one but he looks like he's two! Maybe time to lay off the steak ;)









Stay Puffed!