Lullabies, Loosely Translated

My husband has a beautiful singing voice. He pretty much came from the VonTrapp family: they all sing, play instruments, and sing four-part harmony at family gatherings (thank goodness for my one year in the high school choir that taught me the alto line of "Silent Night" and "Joy to the World!"). He sang in a men's choir all through college and has sung at more weddings than I can count.

As you can imagine, I had sweet daydreams about hearing my husband sing our new baby to sleep with his dreamy voice, perhaps even accompanied by the guitar. Wouldn't that just be lovely?

In those first couple of weeks with Riggins, we definitely endured our stretches of newborn crying. We traded off soothing duties, taking turns bouncing, swaying, shh-ing, swaddling, and singing our little man to eventual sleep.

I was enjoying a break from the crying and Jonathan had taken over with Riggs in the nursery. Suddenly, I heard his booming voice--much more theatrical than his typical singing voice--coming down the hall...

"Ooooohhhhh, I wish I was in the land of cotton, old times there are not forgotten! Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land!"

Ummm....ok.

When this stirring rendition of my high school fight song died down, there was a brief pause before the next song began...

"Fat bottomed girls, you make this rockin' world go 'round!"

And after that...

"Aisha, you were the girl that I never had, and I want to get to know you better...Aisha, you know I want you so bad...."

Followed by the entire Boyz II Men repertoire, complete with the deep-voiced talking parts.

Not exactly the sweet, soothing lullabies I had in mind, but desperate times call for desperate measures. If you're going to be singing to a crying baby for hours on end, you might as well entertain yourself!

And speaking of entertainment, one of my husband's other talents is the ability to make up songs on a whim with perfect melodies and rhyme. I'm convinced that he could make a good living as a jingle writer. Of course, Riggs has become the beneficiary of a few personalized tunes. My personal favorite is an R&B number about feeding, including this line:

"R-I-Double G, give me those Double-Deeeeeeeeees!"

I tell you what...this parenting thing is pretty fun, especially with this guy. It is hard to cry in frustration when you're too busy laughing over songs you haven't heard in ten years and raps about your chest.

The Weepies

Now that I am coming out of the haze of the first month with a newborn, I want to start sharing some thoughts on this new thing in my life called motherhood. With no further ado, my first topic: The Weepies.

So I had a baby. And I was thrilled about it. Elated. Ecstatic.

And then, out of nowhere, the roller coaster of emotions went from the highest high to a gut-punching low. The dips would come within minutes, with no warning, and while I could feel it happening I was powerless to stop it, powerless to fake it. Before long I would be engulfed in tears. Not just "Oh, what a beautiful moment...[insert glistening eyes here]" tears. But weeping, sobbing, ugly cry tears.

I felt like a lunatic, sitting there in a hospital room full of family members, or on the couch at home with my husband and new baby, and just sobbing my eyes out for no good reason at all. I couldn't explain it. I couldn't resist it. I was just sad. And I had to cry.

Most of the time, I could not pinpoint a cause for my emotions other than a raging tide of postpartum hormones. If there ever was an impetus, it was usually the overwhelming realization of how fast everything was passing me by.

Pregnancy was fast.

Our time in the hospital was fast.

Our time with our parents was fast.

Riggins is going to grow up fast.

Life is going to go by fast.

And those thoughts would come at an irrationally fast clip, leaving me in tears within seconds. Though I had read enough pregnancy books to know that these emotions were hormonal and normal (and enough blogs to know that I was not alone), I still felt absolutely crazy. I was thrilled to be a mother, head-over-heels for my baby, and felt pretty confident about caring for him. But in the midst of it all, I just felt sad. And I just had to cry. A lot.

Thankfully, I have a precious husband and family who reassured me that it was ok--necessary, no less--to cry, even about nothing at all. Within a week, I was able to pinpoint a few things that would be essential for me: visitors, outings, and walks around the neighborhood. Each time I enjoyed one of those things, I noticed an improvement in my mood, and I began to have hope that my personal variety of the "baby blues" would probably improve sooner than later and not fall into the postpartum depression category.

One thing that got me through those complex feelings during that first week was that I knew of at least one person, a fellow blogger, who had opened up about her postpartum weepies (Hi, Whitney!). Knowing that I was not the first to experience these feelings made me feel a little less crazy! As a result, I committed to writing about this as soon as I could so that I could give other expectant moms a heads-up about this potential after-effect of labor and delivery. Warn your husband that it is a possibility, and prepare yourself for these feelings if they come your way. You are normal, and they will subside! If they don't subside after two weeks, contact your OB or pediatrician for help. But most importantly, let yourself go there. Sit down and have a good sob about nothing. Don't try to push it away, because it will come out eventually!

And when it doubt, a good snuggle with your newborn works wonders too.

One Month

May 29, 2010

Dear Riggins,

I have always thought it funny that time could simultaneously seem to pass quickly and slowly. Never has that realization rung more true than over the past month. It has past us by in a blink, a blur. And yet I feel as though you have been with us for so much longer than a month. Life with you seems so natural, so complete, that it is hard to belive that you have only been with us for four weeks.

And what amazing weeks they have been! You were born on Thursday, April 29th, and after some delays thanks to a string of severe thunderstorms and tornado warnings that kept the hospital on lock down, we were able to bring you home on Saturday afternoon, May 1. We were lucky that your dad had that whole next week off from school, so we got a lot of quality time as a family to figure out how the three of us were going to work! You definitely had your spurts of crying and fussiness as you adjusted to life outside of me, but you spent a lot of time sleeping! You also enjoyed some of your first outings: walks around the neighborhood, Sonic happy hour, Home Depot, Kroger, the University of Memphis, the Memphis Farmers Market, the Greek Festival, and a hike through Shelby Forest.

I was fortunate to cap of your first week with my first Mothers Day. You and your daddy picked out a beautiful bouquet of peonies for me at the farmers market and decided that it would become our Mothers Day tradition since they bloom right around your birthday. On the morning of Mothers Day, Daddy made pancakes and wrote me a beautiful letter, and also told me about my Mothers Day gift: a gold "R" to add to my necklace, in your honor.

During your second week, my mom came to visit. She was a tremendous help as Daddy returned to school and began seeing patients in the clinic. The next week, your dad's parents came to visit. They are all still trying to figure out what they want to be called as grandparents, but by the time you are old enough to read this I'm sure you will have figured out some names for them on your own! The two weeks of their visits were such a sweet time; it has been so fun for your dad and I to watch our parents get to know you, and let me tell you: as the first grandchild on both sides you are banking on this grandkid business! They are all just head over heels for you.

Your two-week doctor's appointment was a success, as you have gained back your birth weight plus a few ounces, totaling 7 pounds 7 ounces and 20 1/2 inches long. You didn't love being naked on the exam table and were certainly glad to be reunited with your clothing, blanket, and pacifier! The doctor gave us the go-ahead to try a bottle, and that afternoon you chugged down a full bottle in no time flat, a shock to me considering that you like to take your sweet time when nursing! You love to eat and have earned the nickname "Riglet the Piglet" for the hilarious noises you make when satisfying that appetite.

At four weeks, you are still long and lean! You are right on the verge of outgrowing most of your newborn clothes and diapers, but it is a bit of a dilemma...everything still fits you around, but you are so long that things are starting to get a little short! Everyone who meets you comments on your long arms and legs. We think you might end up with my dad's build.

A few other details for my memory:

• You screamed to high heaven every time we changed your diaper, decreased the decibels to fussing during your third week, and during your fourth week you finally started to enjoy your time on the changing table. I was seriously concerned that we would have a one year old who still screamed during diaper changes!
• You eat every 2 1/2 to 3 hours during the day and have thankfully decreased the time it takes for you to nurse. Your dad gives you a bottle about once a day to give me some flexibility.
• You wake up once during the night to eat, giving us two good chunks of sleep each night (THANK YOU!!!).
• You love bath time! Your cord fell off at 6 days, and your first bath was in the tub; you hated it! The next time around we switched to the kitchen sink, and now you just chill out like you're in a hot tub! Now the only problems is that you love it so much that you scream when bath time is over!
• You love to be held with your arms flung over one of our shoulders and to have your little bum patted.
• You love the outdoors. Any time you are fussy or unconsolable, we just head out to the back patio or the front porch swing and you are instantly soothed. You stare up at the sky and trees as though they are the most fascinating things! These are some of my favorite times with you.
• You love being carried in the Moby Wrap or Baby Bjorn, so much that I call you "Roo" because you look like a little kangaroo baby!
• Your big sister Weber is absolutely in love with you. She has to check on you every time she enters the room or if you are in your crib or cradle. If you start crying from your cradle or crib, she often cries too! She gets up with me when I feed you in the night, and she has a killer ability to detect your dirty diapers.
  

Last week was the first week of just the two of us at home. I love that I am able to spend so much time with you, especially now that I know how fast time is going to fly! We are establishing a pretty good little routine, though I am taking advantage of flexibility and portability of this sleepy newborn stage. One of the biggest lessons of the past week was that I can have an agenda for my day, but you don't know that agenda! I am learning that my to-do list will be a bit shorter than what I am used to from the professional world, and that I need to be content with what each day allows. The chores will always be there, but you will not, my sweet boy! I am determined to enjoy and soak up every moment with you, even if that means that our house is host to a family of dust bunnies.



In the words of one of my favorite lullabies, "I dreamed of you, but I never knew how sweet, how lovely..." Riggs, I had many, many dreams of what life with you would be like. I had dreams of how you would be and what you would look like. And you are just so much more than anything I could have ever imagined. As much as I am looking forward to watching you grow, I am just savoring these early moments of your life: staring at you, breathing in your sweet baby scent, kissing you a bazillion times a day, snuggling with you, laughing at your funny faces. Even when you cry and scream, I know that some day I will long for the days when you just needed me to hold you, so I take a deep breath and remind myself that this too shall pass, and all too quickly.

I could go on and on and on, but I believe I've reached the point at which the grown up Riggins who reads this someday will be thinking, "Aww, Mom...seriously!?! You posted all of this sappy stuff on the Internet!?!" So I will stop. But I want you to know that you are loved immensely, prayed for daily, and that you bring more joy to your Daddy and me than we could have ever thought possible.

All my love,
Mama

April 29: Game Time

My lame-o computer will not allow me to drag pictures for placement in a post. Annoying. So here they are at the beginning!

Just after delivery with Dr. Chappell.

First moments with my boy, just as the nurses are taking him away for weighing.

Pre-delivery...one last belly shot!

Even though I knew it was a possibility that my doctor would not be able to deliver my baby, my heart still sank a bit when she told me that she had to leave. She had waited as long as she could, and she had helped me push the tiny bit it took to get to a full 10 cm before the real pushing could begin. I have loved my experience with Dr. Williams over the past 9 months and was sad to see her go. Before she left, she told me what a great patient I had been and how blessed I was to be having such a fast delivery for my first time around. After a bit of a pep talk, she was on her way, and I was left wondering who was going to show up to deliver this baby of mine!

About twenty minutes later, in walked Dr. Todd Chappell. I felt instant relief at the sight of this familiar face. I had seen Dr. Chappell a couple of times during my pregnancy, but my real connection with him comes from the fact that he is a U of M Greek alum and serves on the Board for the Leadership Department where I had worked for the past two years. I feel completely comfortable with him, and Jonathan just loves him too. If anyone else was going to deliver my baby, I wanted it to be him. And of course, he was representing the Tigers with his scrub cap!

It was time to push, and as soon as the process began it became apparent that something wasn't quite right. As it turned out, Riggs was face-up, stuck under my pubic bone, and had some of the umilical cord wrapped around his neck. To spare you the gory details, let's just say that the manipulating they had to do as I pushed made me extremely thankful that I had followed my gut and gotten that epidural!

I pushed for a good hour and a half, and it was truly a one step forward, two steps back kind of experience. What surprised me most was how chill and relaxed the whole thing was; so unlike the dramatic deliveries you see on television! Since I could still feel my contractions, I was able to tell the nurses when I was ready to push and if I could keep going past their counts. Even so, I could see a twinge of disappointment on everyone's faces every time I finished a pushing stretch. Jonathan told me later that I would come so close to having his head out and then the contraction would end and it would just slip away.

In the end, Dr. Chappell strongly advised the assistance of a vacuum, something to which I had been opposed before delivery. But I trusted Dr. Chappell, and even I could see that Riggs' heart rate was decreasing after all that time. As soon as he used that tiny bit of suction I could see the relief and excitement on the face of everyone in the room. It was obviously the right decision for the situation.

One more good push, and there he was! Dr. Chappell set him on my chest immediately, and words cannot express what a beautiful moment that was. I remember exclaiming, "Oh my goodness! Hello, buddy!" And then just wrapping my arms around his slimy, squirmy little body, kissing his wet little head full of hair, and soaking up that moment. Jonathan says that the expression on my face upon seeing him was the best moment of his entire life, so apparently it was pretty special for all of us.

Jonathan cut the umbical cord and the nurses took Riggs over to get cleaned and weighed. He came in at 7 pounds, 3 ounces, and 19 1/2 inches long. Beautiful and perfect.

All in all, my labor and delivery lasted from 1 a.m. to 9:47 a.m. Just under nine hours. I am so very thankful for a quick delivery and have no regrets about the decisions we made along the way. My biggest piece of advice from the other side is to follow your gut! Birth plans are great, but you never know what is going to come your way, and no plan should override your woman's intuition.

More stories from these first weeks (almost month!) of motherhood to come. I so appreciate your patience as I've taken my time to enjoy this new little man in my life!

April 29th: The Playbook

As soon as we were moved to room 233 at Baptist Memorial Women's Hospital, the nurse arrived to evaluate me again. Within the 30 minutes between admission and transport, I had already dilated to 7 cm. At this point, they asked my preference of pain medication.



Throughout my pregnancy, I had planned for a natural delivery. Once labor began, I was suprised by my ability to handle the contractions and was thrilled with how quickly things were progressing. I felt so proud of myself, and I knew that I could keep going if I wanted to.



But in that moment, I was overwhelmed by a strong, distinct gut feeling that I needed to get that epidural. I couldn't explain it, particularly because I was managing the pain so well, but I just knew that was what I needed to do.



While I had expected to feel disappointment in such a moment, I felt total freedom.



I had rocked my labor experience so far. I made it to a 7 on my own in the blink of an eye. And that was something to be proud of. And I was even proud of my confidence that, yes, I can keep going if I want to. But I have the freedom to follow my gut, and that's what I'm going to do.



So in came the nurse anesthetist. And she gave me the best epidural I could have ever imagined (with the help of a cute little nurse named Maggie who held me in her arms and turned me into butter as the nurse worked her magic!). I could still totally feel and move my legs, and I could even feel the contractions, just without the sharp intensity of pain.



Jonathan and I then enjoyed the next couple of hours together, dozing in short spurts, talking, and staring at each other with that knowing "Holy Cow, is this really happening?" look.



My OB, Dr. Williams, arrived and joked that I had jinxed myself the day before with my proclamation that Riggs just needed to wait until the weekend when Jonathan's finals were finished! She checked me again and expressed her surprise that a first delivery was going so quickly and uneventfully. By 8:00 a.m. I was at 10 cm and ready to push.



Unfortunately, that was the same time that Dr. Williams had to leave for rounds at the other hospital across town. And I was about to find out what that gut feeling was all about...

April 29: The Warm Up

The streets of Memphis are relatively quiet at 4:20 a.m. And if your wife is about to have a baby, that gives you full justification for a bit of speeding and red light-running.



Jonathan made it to the hospital in record time, but a few blocks from the hospital we noticed the glaring lights of a police car in our rear view mirror. He immediately turned on his hazzards and blinker, but the lights did not subside.



We exited for the hospital, thinking that surely the cop would catch on and leave us alone. Blinker on for the entrance to the Woman's Hospital. Still followed. Pull in to the drop-off area. Tailed.



Are. You. Kidding. Me.



I get out of the car, hugging my humongous belly, just as the officer exits her car.



"Officer, I'm in labor and that's why my husband is speeding."



"I don't care. I've had a baby, and I know that you're not about to have the baby right here and now. He should have stopped and told me it was an emergency and I would have let him go."



Jonathan, still in the car, tells me to go on up to be admitted. He stayed behind, where the officer definitely made him show all of his identification and registration and gave him a lengthy warning.



For the love.



I was admitted and told that I was now at 6 cm. Jonathan joined me soon thereafter, and after all of the hubbub that comes with being admitted to the hospital we were finally wheeled to a room.


Let the games begin!

April 29: Pre-Game

And now, for my memory and your entertainment...



A Birth Story. Part One.



On the morning of Wednesday, April 28th, I went to my 39 week doctor's appointment. I measured at 3 cm and was 80% effaced. Dr. Williams assured me that this baby would be coming on his own, and since I had dearly hoped to avoid induction I was thrilled with that news.



I returned to work, enjoyed lunch out with coworkers, and laughed as my colleague Laura predicted that Riggs would come the next day.



Flash forward to Wednesday evening. I made a delicious dinner of Mama Dot's shrimp casserole and had just cleaned up the kitchen and settled in to a Tivo'd episode of Glee when I suddenly felt a wave of nausea. I mentioned to Jonathan that I didn't feel well.



Five minutes later, I was sprinting for the bathroom. Hasta la vista, shrimp casserole.



I suddenly had memories of my mother's labor stories, which definitely began with....um...stomach issues. Hmmm...



I went to bed, and awoke with pain at 1 a.m. Assuming that the dehydration of being sick was causing Braxton Hicks contractions, I got out of bed and began to sip water.



The pain continued.



Suddenly, all I could think about was a warm bath, so I started the water and proceeded to spend the next hour in the tub with what began to be regular contractions.



At 2:15 a.m. I woke Jonathan, who was remarkably calm and began timing my contractions. They were already 3-4 minutes apart! Holy cow. We had not packed hospital bags (I know. Dumb.) and the house was not exactly tidy, so in between contractions we got everything squared away. Jonathan encouraged me to take a shower and wash my hair (the man is a genius), and by 4 a.m. we were ready to roll.



My contractions were strong but bearable through deep breathing and lots of "Ahhhh-ing," squatting, and rocking. But a few of them were strong enough to make me throw up, and as we were leaving the house and loading the car I began to throw up in the front yard. I sent Jonathan into the house for a plastic bag in case I continued to get sick in the car.



And there, as I continued to vomit in my yard and lean over the car, breathing through a contraction, I looked up and saw a man walking his dog...at 4 a.m....down our street.



I suddenly realized how strange I looked, all alone in my yard, looking like a total drunkard. I could just imagine him calling Memphis City Police on his cell: "Ummm, officer...there is a drunk pregant woman puking in someone's yard over here..."



So without thinking I just yelled out, "I'm in labor! We're going to the hospital! My husband is coming!"



The dog walker was PUMPED.



"Man, that is AWESOME! I mean, are you ok? I'm your neighbor. Don't worry, my dad is a neonatologist and my sister is a post-partum nurse so you aren't weirding me out at all."



Great. I'm glad this isn't awkward for you. Because I feel fabulous.



I tried to smile and nod through the contraction as he made small talk, and couldn't help but laugh as Jonathan came out the front door and a total stranger yelled, "Congratulations, Man!"



"Ummm...thanks!" he replied.



And with that, we loaded the car and hit the road to the hospital...