Sweetie, I Love You, But. . . . #3

How am I ever going to make awesome CDs of just one year's music releases, if you import new CDs into ITunes and don't bother to put the damn year information in? I know that you are not as OCD about this as I am, but you are killing me with this. It is an affront to all my organizational sensibilities. And while we are at it, stop adding shit to my playlists, too.

Is there a way to password-protect my version of ITunes? See that word up in the right-hand corner? It reads, "Annie." That's me. Show some respect.

I still love you, though. And I will try to hang up the kitchen towels after using them, so that they don't get, um . . . "moldy."

Boo at the Zoo

As promised, here are some pictures from our first "Boo at the Zoo" at Zoo Atlanta:

Are we really going to go out in public dressed like this?

Todd and Rollie take a break from Trick or Treating.

This is what Matilda the Angel did the whole afternoon.

Rollie rides the Ostrich on the carousel at the zoo. (That's me, hiding behind the ostrich. Ostrich is so slimming. . . .)

Heartbreak

Evidently, Joe could take the pressure, but Coutu broke under it.

Question of the Day

Can Joe T. handle the pressure? We'll see. . . four hours till kickoff.

In the meantime, Todd and I are taking Rollie and Matilda to the Grant Park zoo for Boo at the Zoo. Should be. . .really tame, as compared with a number of my Halloweens in the past. Let's see: Daylight. No drugs or alcohol. I'm not even wearing a damn costume. (Although I did drag out my favorite t-shirt - the 1988 The Cramps Halloween show t-shirt.)

Pictures to follow. . .

Go DAWGS!!!!!

Queries for the AAP

Queries for the American Academy of Pediatrics:

1. How many hours of the same Thomas the Tank Engine episode can a 26 month-old toddler view before his brain begins to melt out of his ears?
2. What are the American Academy of Pediatrics standards for duct-taping a pacifier onto a three-week old's mouth?

Thanks in advance,
Harried Mother

But What Are You Gonna Call Her?

"What's her name?"

"Matilda."

"Oh . . . What are you gonna call her?"

The name was subject of much discussion during our hospital stay. It is interesting, though, to see people's reactions to the name Matilda. It is usually a look of surprise, or that flustered, "I don't know what to say because i think it is hideous" look.

Then there are those that praise us for choosing an unusual or uncommon name. But the most common response is, "Well, what are you going to call her?" As if they automatically assume that we chose the name out of some family obligation and that we couldn't possibly actually like the name, and so, "Will she be a Mattie, or a Tilly?" It has become quite the joke between Todd and me.

We actually DO like the name Matilda, though. But if you must, feel free to call her something else: "Tilda," "Mat," and even "Tiller" have already been thrown out there. I like "Mamie," which seems like a flapper or witch's name, but I don't know if it will stick. Tilda has that "actress of the stage and screen" sound to it. Mat, which is what my sister calls her, has a certain cute tomboyishness about it. And Tiller, which is what my grandmother called her own Aunt Matilda, is what my Dad has started using. Todd is not crazy about it, (this coming from a man whose family included a Henrietta, pronounced, and spelled, "Henry Etter!") but I think it is fun and unusual, in an earthy, southern kind of way.

Most people, unsolicited for their gems of naming wisdom, but eager to bestow them upon us anyway, suggest that we use either, "Mattie" or "Tillie." These are fine names for someone else's child, but for me they are unacceptable: "mattie" could possibly make people think that we had actually named our child "Madison," that most detestable and common girl name, in my opinion, and Tillie was the name of my cousins' mother's horse when we were growing up. (For Alpharettians/Roswellians, we used to ride this horse at a barn located where the silos are located at Houze Rd. and Crabapple Rds. And that's all that was there! Now there is a Kroger, and the Ingles sits on the location of the old barn. I will never get used to how different that area looks than it does in my childhood memories!)

But I digress.

The question is: What are we gonna call her?

Why, her given name of course! We're going to call her Matilda.

Matilda's Birth Story

In retrospect, I think that deep down, I knew that I was going into labor on Friday October 7th at about 6 a.m.
I awakened to a pretty bad cramp, went to the bathroom, and had some definite bloody show. But part of me also thought it might be from the cervical check they did at my midwife appointment the day before. The show continued throughout the morning, as did the cramps, off and on. Todd went to work, and I went about my usual morning routine (checking email, breakfast and playing with Rollie, etc.) After lunch, I called Todd, because I was starting to feel "odd." I don't know how to explain it, except that I just didn't feel great. I was having some contractions, but they still felt like Braxton Hicks, but more in a pattern than they had before. I took a bath, which felt great, but didn't make the contractions stop. Todd was home by three, and by that time, I was having some painful ones, but not so painful that I couldn't talk through them. By the time Todd came home from work, I was just starting to time the contractions to see how long and far apart they were. At that point, they were over 45 seconds, but not unbearable, and only 7 to 9 minutes apart. I went and took a shower and called my sister to come over early for dinner (we had plans to meet for dinner already) and to pack a bag, just in case she needed to stay with Rollie. By the time my sister arrived, around 5pm, Todd and I were actively timing my contractions, some of which were 4 minutes apart, some still seven minutes apart. We put in a call to Ruth, the midwife on call, and I told her that I seemed to be having contractions, but that since I was induced last time, I wasn't sure if I was in labor or not (I had spent the whole afternoon wondering if I was just a wuss who couldn't take some piddly pre-labor contractions.) She asked me about the length and frequency of the contractions (at this point, I was having some of them under five minutes apart, and they were all over 45 seconds long), and if I could walk and talk through them (yes). She told me to go take a bath (I had taken both a bath and a shower already that afternoon!) and to drink two glasses of water to see if the contractions let up. She also said to lay down and see if I could sleep through them and to call her back if they didn't let up or intensified.

My concern at this point was that I was having the "under five minutes apart" contractions, that I live in Atlanta (Oh My God, the traffic), the hospital is 25 minutes away on a good day, and that it was a rainy 5 o'clock Friday afternoon. With these conditions, there was a good chance that it could take us over an hour to reach the hospital.

I decided to skip the bath, as I had literally just gotten out of the shower. The contractions were definitely getting stronger, and it seemed that as soon as I hung up the phone, they became difficult to walk and talk through. Todd poured me a glass of water, which I chugged down, got me another, and sent me upstairs to lay down and try to sleep through some of the contractions. Meanwhile, he went down to the kitchen and fixed us both a grilled cheese sandwich. He brought them up, we ate them together, then I laid back down to get some rest.

I was laying in bed, having pretty painful contractions. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep through them, although I think it was more that I was excited at the prospect of labor than the pain of the contractions. As I was lying there, I felt a really strange internal POP!, and then a . . shifting of some sort. Very hard to explain - kind of like a little internal explosion, which is a very unsettling feeling. I thought I felt a little gush of liquid, but I wasn't sure if it was my water breaking or not. I stood up to go to the bathroom, and felt a little trickle, and when I pulled down my pants, had a (TMI) little pinkish trickle down my leg. I urinated and there was more show, with more pinkish tissue than I had seen during the day. I still wasn't sure that my water had broken, so proceeded with a sniff test (my OB friend had said that amniotic fluid had an unmistakable sweet and musty smell), but still couldn't tell anything. I did note that there was not a lot of blood, and that the liquid was pinkish clear, not green or brown or funky-smelling.

It was the next contraction that convinced me that my water probably had broken, as the contraction was so much more strong than the ones I had experienced prior to the pop. I had to stop in my tracks when I had it. At this point, I went downstairs and we called Ruth back. At the same time (it was about 6pm at this time), my sister took Rollie and they went out to dinner. We told her that if she came back and we weren't there, we had gone to the hospital. I knew when Rollie walked out the door that the next time I saw him he would be a big brother. I took about 10 seconds to feel bittersweet about it and then a contraction hit.

Ruth called me back, and we discussed the pop and the stronger contractions. Ruth said, "Well, it sounds like you're in labor. Come on in. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Todd had already packed our stuff in the car, so we locked up and went out to the car. We climbed in and Todd turned on some peaceful, but rather depressing, music: The soundtrack to Cold Mountain. I really like this album, but now it is forever the "driving to the hospital, on a rainy evening, in labor" soundtrack.

We didn't hit any traffic on our side of town, but hit a wall of cars on the downtown connector. This made me nervous, as I was now having to close my eyes and concentrate on breathing through my contractions, which had become decidedly uncomfortable. We made it on to the connector and moved slowly through downtown. By the time we got to 400, my contractions were really getting stronger, although not that much closer together. In a few more minutes we made it to the hospital, Todd pulled up to the drop-off, and we headed in to check-in. The funny thing about the hospital at which Matilda was delivered is the volume of babies that are born there. They deliver more babies than any other hospital in the country, and are locally nicknamed The Baby Factory. At any given time, day or night, there are probably ten cars in the drop-off area, all with the hazards on, and with flustered looking Dads and pissed-off- looking expecting Moms pouring out of the cars, snapping at one another, and juggling bags and papers and car seats. It is a little bit of a mob scene at times.

We went into checkin, and proceeded to fill out a little paperwork (just one sheet, as I was pre-admitted when I went in to be checked for bleeding at 27 wks). I think they do a lot of inductions, because they seemed to not get the fact that I was in LABOR and that it hurt. At one point, I was filling out the sheet (Todd was filling out another one that had his contact information on it), and paused to have a contraction, as there was no way at this point that I could write and contract at the same time. The woman behind the desk looked at me and pointed at the line I was working on when the contraction started and said, "You just need to fill in your Social right here," at which point, I kind of snapped and said, "No, I just need to finish having this contraction first." Things got a little more efficient after that.

We waited about 15 minutes while they readied a labor and delivery room for us. The funny thing about waiting in the waiting area while in labor is the looks you get from Dads, and grandparents and kids, and the first-time Moms who are not in labor yet. I was feeling pretty relieved to be at the hospital, having been nervous about the "giving birth during rush hour" timing.

They took us to room F1, and gave me the beautiful hospital gown (who in the HELL designed those things?!) and I changed and went to the bathroom. I am one of those people who usually squats over public toilets, but desperate times mean desperate measures, so I had to sit; it may be efficient laboring and birthing position, but it just wasn't comfortable to squat and pee and contract all at the same time. At this point, I felt like I had to constantly pee, but nothing would come out. (I must have been to the bathroom 500 times that day.)

At this point, they were still readying the bed, monitors, etc., so I was laboring with Todd; When a contraction came on, I would just hang my arms around his neck, close my eyes and breathe through it. I was amazed at how much difference in pain there was if I just kept concentrating on breathing - It is also amazing how the pain makes you want to tense up and hold your breath. This was about the point where I was starting to do not be so silent during the contractions.

Ruth came in about then, and checked me. I was almost 5 cm and 90% effaced, and both she and the nurse congratulated me on going through early labor on my own at home. I was just relieved that I was as far along as I was! I was so scared that I was experiencing that kind of pain and wasn't even in active labor yet, and that I was going to be sent home!

At this point, I had about enough of the pain and I got the epidural. It took a good 30 minutes or so for the anesthesiologist to show up. They sat me up on the side of the bed, had me lean on Todd, and proceeded to give me the epidural. This was interesting and a LOT scarier to me than last time; The contractions I experienced with my pitocin-induced labor were SO different from these more manageable ones. With the first labor, I would have cut off my own arm to make the pain go away, while the contractions with this labor were manageable and seemed to rise and fall and give me a break in between. A break that allowed me to consider the fact that I was getting something fed into my spine. . . .

We waited until I finished a contraction, they the anesthesiologist numbed my back (shots in the back don't feel great.) We waited while I had another contraction, then started the epidural itself. It hurt, especially compared to the first one I had, which I did not feel at all. Also, I could feel another contraction coming on and that made me nervous, because I was supposed to stay so still. But he finished just before it came on really strongly, and I began to feel it working.

It took about 15 minutes to take full effect, and in that time, I had the pleasure of having Todd sit by me and start telling me when he saw that I had a contraction coming on. This is humorous, because you can already feel the contraction coming on by the time he sees it on the monitor. After it took effect, Todd ran down to MACDonald's to grab something to eat.

On a side note, there are two humorous points to make about the MACDonald's at the hospital:

1) Todd and I refer to it as MACDonald's (emphasis on the Mac), because the woman who conducts the hospital tour is a rarity in Atlanta - an actual Southerner with a Southern accent who says "McDonald's" like my grandparents say it - and we loved that she called it MACDonald's on the tour.

2) Why the fuck do they have a MacDonald's in a hospital? Isn't that what put most of the heart patients there in the first place?

While he was down there, for some reason, I started rethinking the name. We had decided to use either Matilda Elizabeth, or Elizabeth Matilda, but hadn't decided which. While I was thinking about that, I started thinking that maybe we should rethink using our Grandmothers' names: Evelyn and Ruth. However, Todd didn't really like Ruth and hated Evelyn. When he got back, I mentioned it to him, and he didn't seem too jazzed, Steph. I could tell that he was wary of me pulling an "I just birthed a baby, so I'm going to name her whatever the hell I want," but he did make an attempt at considering it. Just thought I'd add this, since it was interesting that this popped into my head when I thought we had settled the matter of the name way before arriving at the hospital. It is very unlike me to second-guess a decision like that, but Matilda, if you are reading this, you might have ended up being an Evelyn Ruth. It is good that you were a girl, because if you were a boy, we had no idea what we would have named you!

The epidural gave me the itchies, so Ruth had checked me and said that it would still be a couple hours or so, and gave me some benedryl for the itching (which would also help me rest a little). It did help with the itching and made me drowsy. I dozed with the lights down, and Todd fell asleep, with his usual vigorous snoring, on the window seat/bed. After about 20 minutes, the nurse came in to check me because my contractions were really strong, and, lo and behold, the baby was coming. I didn't feel a bit of the pressure at all. The nurse went off to find Ruth. Todd kept snoring, and was still sleeping when Ruth came in. I let him sleep while they prepared for the pushing stage.

It was about five till midnight. He was so asleep that the nurse had to shake him to wake him. He sat up and I said, "Are you ready?" and he looked at me like I was crazy. He said, "Has it been two hours?" and I laughed and said, "I think she is in a hurry to be born on the 7th."

I got situated for pushing, with Todd on my right, and the nurse on my left. I pushed during 3 or 4 contractions. During the 2nd or 3rd contraction, Ruth said, "Look at all that thick hair!" and I reached down and touched Matilda's head for the first time. The pushing was easy and I could feel well enough to know when I was pushing efficiently, but not enough for it be painful. On the last contraction, I felt that familiar "pop" and release of pressure and her head came out, then one more push, and the feeling of her arms and legs sliding out of my body once and for all, followed almost immediately by what sounded like a dramatization of a baby being born - she was caterwauling so loud that it brought tears to my eyes. Todd and I looked at each other and I commented on how glad I was that we heard that noise with the second birth. With Rollie, he came out not breathing and with no crying, but having never been through it before, we didn't know how scared we should have been by his lack of crying.

Ruth threw her up on my chest (they really do kind of throw the newborns around a little more than I would like), while they rubbed her down. It was so different than Rollie's birth, where they whisked him away from me immediately to suction him. This time, the moment was everything I had thought about during both of my pregnancies, but didn't get until this birth.

Ruth said, "What's her name?" Todd looked questioningly and hopefully at me, and I smiled and nodded and he said, "Matilda Elizabeth."

The nurse took her off to the side to clean her up while I delivered the placenta. Todd and I looked at it after it came out. What a cool thing! So alien-like, to grow in your body, just to support a life, then the body expels it after it is done with it. By that time, Matilda was done and they brought her back to Todd and me and we had till about 2:30 or 3am to get acquainted with her, and for her to nuzzle at my chest, and she even latched on and fed right away.

At that time, they whisked her off to the nursery to have a few tests, while we were moved to out post-partum room. Upon entering this room, we realized how gypped we were the first time around - this time, Todd actually had a window seat bed to sleep on. There was even a glider in the room! We immediately ate a snack and then both caught about 30 minutes of shut-eye. No giddy "I just gave birth and OMG we are parents" euphoria this time around. This time around, we knew the importance of the catnap.

The rest of our hospital stay was great - I slept whenever Matilda wasn't feeding, we knew to get the takeout menu from the nurses' station, rather than eating the hospital food, and Todd wasn't scared to leave me to go get frappucinos for us, so he didn't have cabin fever. My parents and sister came in to meet Matilda on Saturday morning. The in-laws brought Rollie in to meet his little sister (he was more impressed with my milkshake than his new sister) on Saturday afternoon. On that Saturday night, we watched Georgia beat Tennessee and then on Sunday night, we watched the 18-inning heartbreaker Braves loss to the Astros. We ran into acquaintances Max and Jenn in the hall - they had given birth to their daughter just hours before we did on the 7th. And then our friends Steph and Doug were induced Sunday night and gave birth early Monday a.m., right before we checked out. It is nice that Doug and I, friends since 8th grade, actually had our 2nd children delivered at the same hospital, just two days apart!

Checkout on monday was much easier than the first time around. Less fear of strapping Matilda into the car seat than we had with Rollie. More efficient paperwork completion. We were so glad to finally be bringing our baby girl home to Rollie.

And that's the story of Matilda's birth!

A Tale of Two Boobs

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!

The End

Introducing Matilda

Matilda Elizabeth
Born October 8th, 2005
7lbs, 7oz. 21 in long

40 Weeks, 4 Days

Had my second appointment of the week. Still no changes in my cervix, baby performed well on the non-stress test, and still no contractions.

We discussed the situation, and the fact that they will induce me next week if I haven't gone into labor by then. I have an appointment for Monday at 10:45 am. They will do the Biophysical Profile (BPP), which is basically an ultrasound to check fetal well-being. It was this test, last pregnancy, that identified that my amniotic fluid was low, and prompted the induction that evening.

So, Caprice, the midwife I saw today, said to go home and decide what day next week would be good for me to be induced. She said that Mondays tend to be one of the busiest days at the hospital, and that Tuesday or Wednesday would be better.

I still have a glimmer of hope that I could go into labor this weekend, but it is a faint glimmer. There is a part of me that regrets that I seem to be one of those people who are not destined to experience going into labor on my own. I tell myself that a hundred years ago, it would have been a lot more likely that i would never give birth to a healthy baby at this point. Hell, 100 years ago, I would probably have just been considered barren, what with my non-existent periods. But, luckily, I am the proud mother of one phenomenal little boy, and another on the way.

It is nice to be able to tell my mother and mother-in-law when to come up in advance. It will be nice to know that I will be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for watching the Georgia-Tennessee game on Saturday.

And most of all, I know that this time next week, I will probably be holding my daughter in my arms. I can't wait to meet her.

Moo

We were sitting at the dinner table a couple of nights ago. I am half a week past my estimated due date, mind you. Dinner is always a cheerful affair around here, with Rollie entertaining Todd and I with his latest word mispronunciation, gesture, or facial expression. We were taking turns prompting him to say words that we think are funny or cute ("pish" for "fish," because he can't say the F sound, for example.) We usually go through his repertoire of animal sounds, ending with the finale of the pig sound: Rollie does a frighteningly realistic pig snort - a real crowd pleaser.

We moved on to the subject of the upcoming addition to our family. We have been reading Rollie books about Mama expecting, about being a big brother, etc. We have discussed how helpful he is going to be with the new baby sister. We discuss the words, "baby," "sister," and even attempt the baby's name at times. We point at my stomach and ask Rollie to pat the baby or kiss the baby. We ask him where the baby is and he will usually point somewhere in the general area of my stomach (or Todd's stomach) or a stranger's stomach, or worse, a stranger's breast. But usually he gets it right, and points to my stomach.

So, I say,

"Rollie where is the baby?"

Rollie looks at me very seriously, points directly to my stomach, and says,

"Moooooo."

Todd attempts to stifle his laughter, but only manages to snort like a pig, then bursts into full laughter.

Oh, the indignities one must suffer in the name of Motherhood. . . .

40 Weeks, 2 Days

I had my 40-week appointment this morning. Pee and BP normal, weight down two pounds. They did an NST. Baby showed the right amount of hr acceleration, despite the fact that I didn't feel her much during the test. No contractions on the readout (surprise, surprise.)

Amy, the midwife, checked me. Know how much I progressed? NONE. She said I was "exactly the same." She asked what happened with my first pg (shouldn't we ALL know this by now??? I went over 8 days and then was induced for low amniotic fluid.) She said that it was really common to go over again if I went that far over last time and had to be induced. That there are women who are just on the outside of the "gestation curve."

Um, why don't you people just fucking say that when I hit 37 weeks, tell me to not get my hopes up, and that i will probably go over, and then if I don't I will be pleasantly surprised??? I appreciated her honesty, and her attempts to make me not feel like my body is totally defective.

Anyway, I go back on Thursday, and she said we would talk then about how things are going. If I had to hazard a guess, I would bet that as long as everything is okay on Thursday, they will let me go the weekend, and see me again on Monday (and probably induce) if I haven't gone into labor yet. Interestingly, that would again put me 8 days out from my due date when I am induced.

[big huge sigh straight from the gut]

Off to change the answering machine message to "Fuck off and stop calling here."

40 Weeks, 1 Day, One Crazy

That's me. The Crazy.

Well, I had my internal on Thursday. She said, "Maybe we'd see each other at the hospital this weekend." Right.

All day Friday and Saturday, I had more of the brown discharge. On Saturday after seeing Serenity, I had a little bit of stringy mucous. Saturday night, i had the most painful contractions i had had yet, but they only lasted a couple hours and then peetered out.

Yesterday morning, I woke up, had a cup of coffee and went to the bathroom to find what was undoubtedly my mucous plug - it was HUGE and had plenty of dark red to brown blood in it. Since then, I have had plenty of back ache, groin pain, Braxton Hicks, and some diarreah off and on, but no real contractions.

This morning, I had another large gob of bloody mucous. More brown discharge. Cramping, aches and pains, etc, but nothing LABORLIKE.

I am getting very impatient.

P.S. Just be thankful I am not posting a picture of the mucous plug. Todd had to look at it.

A Very Happy "Happy"

Sunday was Todd's birthday. I got up with Rollie and let Todd sleep in that day. While he was still in bed, I attempted to teach Rollie to say, "Happy Birthday, Dada." It was a no-go. He would say, "happy" or "birthday", or "dada," but no way i could get him to say all three together.

We attempted it, though, when Todd got up, and so Todd was wished a very happy "Happy" by Rollie.

Since then, Rollie has been using the word "Happy" a lot. Not in any particular context, just walking around the house, saying "Happy" in different tones.

Wouldn't it be great if we lived in Rollie's world, the one where people just wander around and say, "happy" all the time for no reason other than the fact that they are just generally happy?