Early Days

I made a point of asking Jay this weekend what he remembered most about Harvey's early days. His response was simple and two parted. "A whole lot of shit and him sleeping non-stop" Not shit like, there are so many things I can't pick one, but literally shit. His feces. 

I think in the moment it's hard to appreciate all of the little things he is doing that you aren't even going to realize you miss until they are already gone. I for one, miss the sleeping thing as well. I don't miss him sleeping all day because right now I'm enjoying ever minute that he is awake and trying new things, rather I miss him curling up on my chest and falling asleep without prompting and coaxing. He would just curl his little bitty body up and get comfy. 

It is amazing to me how much he has grown in the past three months. That's all it's been. Three stinking months and the boy has already almost doubled his birth weight AND rolled over! What is happening?!?! Am I always going to look at him and be in disbelief that he is mine? 

First Yawns

I like to call this "the frog"

I look at him utterly amazed that Jay and I were able to create such a magnificent creature without any well thought out effort. Even if we had tried I don't think we could have genetically engineered a more beautiful creature. This is where evolution really shines, what would life be like if all things thought their offspring were hideous. We have to know they are adorable so that we want nothing more but to take care of them. Those first few days when they want nothing more than to be held by you, ugh- nothing in the world like that feeling. Something in this world really and truly NEEDS you. Not just needs your help for something but is completely dependent on you for their survival. 

I talk to other mothers and am baffled by the amount of research and preparation they have done for their children. I went to one birthing class because it was required for me to be able to do a water birth. That's it. I didn't read any books. I didn't watch any videos. I really and truly felt that the less I knew the better. The more I thought or knew about what was going to eventually happen to my lady parts the more scared I got. I figured that in the moment my body would react just like every other woman's body in the history of things and I would just know.  

For a long time I questioned whether or not this made me a bad mom. Was I supposed to google every little thing that he did? I just didn't worry about every bump or scrape. I'm not that kind of a person in general, why would that change when he came? Plus, the last thing I want is him freaking out over every little thing as he got older. 

With time I've realized that each of us is a different mother in our own right and there is no right or wrong way to mother YOUR child. Some mothers find comfort in knowledge of what each new thing their child does means, and others delight in the the unknown of it all. I just happen to be one of the latter. I don't want to put Harvey on any sort of timeline, he will do all of the things he is "supposed" to do in his own time. And I'm more than happy to wait.

Fast-Forward to First Shots

 The day finally came. I had successfully avoided all of those first shots and decided with the help of his doctor that it was best for us to spread his shots out since he was not going to daycare, rather hanging out at home with mommy all day! Here we are, April 26, 2012. He is all smiles today. Making this whole experience even harder. Why can't today be a pouty day and you're screaming already so I don't have to feel bad about them pricking your chunky little legs? I've recruited my mom to come with me because deep down I know that I'm going to handle this much worse than he does. There is a whole new part of yourself you find after you've had a child. I've always been a pretty protective person- but this has escalated to an entirely new level. I'm a soldier willing to sacrifice myself at any moment to avoid pain and suffering for anyone in my family and especially my son.  I spend the morning telling myself he is not even going to notice that it is happening. He is going to be so pre-occupied with all of the lights and the paper on the table that he will have no idea we are going to shove a needle into his thigh. I debate whether or not I should just not take him. Really, how important are vaccines? Is polio a real concern right now?!?! Then my rational being steps in and smacks my unrealistic self into shape. GET IT TOGETHER WOMAN! It's two shots, and once we got there it was not even two shots- it was one that he swallowed and a shot. GREAT! Just one. That's all we have to make it through.

This guy flashes his million dollar smile at the nurse, completely trusting that the worst she is going to do is take his temperature. She is taken with him, saying how pretty he is, how sweet and what a gorgeous smile! Of course I think all of those things, but is it just polite for someone to tell you your baby is pretty? I mean they wouldn't go out of the way to tell you they aren't. 

The first of the vaccinations goes down pretty easy. He is tired after the hour wait in the waiting room and he's slowly letting himself get sleepy when the worst of it starts. 

"Lay him down on the table"

Part of me is relived- SHEW! I don't have to be holding him, the last thing I want is him to be looking into my eyes when he gets his shot. 

"Okay, now I'm going to press his legs down with my body and I need you to hold his arms down."

Damn it. 

That's not what I wanted to hear. I look at my mom with pure panic. I'm being a complete child about all of this, but I hate to see him hurt. She gives me a stern pat on the shoulder and those "you can do it" eyes. One hard blink and a few alligator tears fall. Time to put on my mommy face. I hold his arms against his body and he is thankfully already screaming from being held so I don't have to look into those precious blue eyes when he realizes he is getting a shot. 

It's over as quick as it began and he's fine! To my utter delight as soon as I pick him up we have that instantaneous delight to be in one another's arms again. I love him!

We made it and he is asleep in his graham cracker's arms before we get to the car. 

One more month before we do this all over again.

Coming Home

Welcome Home Harvey!

Now what...

Is it okay that we got home and I just stared at him? My god, he's so small and so big at the same time. 9 lbs 3oz and a whopping 22 inches. In my mind it sounds huge. I think mostly because my body is now permanently ready for a child of his size to inhabit it. But here, in this moment in his little carseat he is so tiny. So sweet. So quiet. I'm going to relish every second of his infancy. At this point in time, I'm still considering going back to work. After my 8 weeks that is. At this point in time, I am taking three minute showers because it hurts too bad to stand up any longer than that. 

What an amazing journey motherhood is already, with so much to learn all at once and not one book in the world can prepare you for your own child. Each one with different quirks and screams! How was I ever going to be one of those mothers that knows what each scream means? Because let me tell you something, every scream in the begining is as terrifying as the last and all you want is for it to be soothed and have a happy smiling baby in your arms! Lucky for me I have one of the happiest babies on the planet- in my opinion at least. From day one he has been smiling. I don't know why and I'm not going to question it, rather just encourage every single itty bitty smile I can!  The first night that we had him home we of course had a sleepless night. Anticipation of what was ahead of us and just sheer giddiness at having him outside of my womb. 

It is amazing what instincts can and will dictate. My body and mind flew into action, functioning on next to no sleep and my hands finding their way to him and tending to his needs. Not to say that it was always perfect and that I was always on top of everything that was going on. I recall the first diaper change in the middle of the night- I didn't turn the light on, did not want him to have to wake all the way up just for a diaper change.  As I am gingerly holding his tiny feet in between my fingers and wiping his little bottom so carefully he starts screaming and I'm immediately scared that I've hurt him. It's still dark as ever in there and I'm feeling around for the nighlight so that I can see what is going on. He is peeing all over himself, in his ears, all over his face! THE HORROR!!! I just made my child piss all over himself!!! This quick midnight diaper swap just went from simple to serious in a matter of 10 seconds. EEEEWWWWW!!!! So now I'm wiping his entire body down, getting in that massive chunky neck and doing his least favorite thing in the world. Changing his clothes. 

I guess I can understand the terror of a shirt being pulled over your head when you have no way to find comfort in knowing your world will return to you as soon as it makes it over your eyes! He screams until he's not breathing and his little eyes are squeezed as tight as they can possibly get. Talk about heart breaking! But after I change him and scoop him up to my face so that I can whisper to him that every thing is okay- he stops crying. He's stops crying because he knows he is safe in these arms of mine! ( Okay, so it could be that the clothes changing was over and he no longer had to be on his back.)

Harvey's Very Late Arrival

January 29th, 2012 was a Sunday and as I am remembering it was a little snowy and I was scared out of my mind. How did the past 42 weeks fly by my eyes and how was I still feeling ill prepared for our new arrival? My initial reaction to pregnancy was sheer and utter joy. I have been dreaming of motherhood since I knew that I myself could make one of these amazing itty bitty beautiful creatures. Imagine- 5 years old fascinated at the fact that ME, MY little bitty tummy could one day produce an amazing little version of myself. Words can't describe the excitement! Yet, here I am- begging that they let him just come naturally. The doctors and midwives have obliged me 14 days past my due date. At this point, I'm really just pushing my luck. My fear does not come from a place that somehow doubts my mothering skills, rather I'm scared that all of my furry babies are going to forget I love them. An hour before I head to the hospital for my induction I'm laying as best I can at 42 weeks pregnant in the floor with my dog staring into his eyes promising I'll still love him forever!

Now, you look in those eyes and tell me your heart wouldn't also be breaking.

So after my heartfelt goodbye to my sweet pooch we were off to the hospital. It was a short 7 minute drive, not nearly long enough for us to prepare for what was lying ahead. I had my reservations about being induced. It was so far from my birth plan I preferred not to think about it, but here I am. Walking into the E.R was not nearly as scary as I had envisioned it being. Though I had imagined myself being wheeled in at 8 cm ready to become a monster of a woman and push this child into the world! Instead I'm in some sweatpants, no pain to be seen, no sign of labor just a girl and her belly. Jason has carried in my bag and I'm still so worried about the animals I'm not registering anything we are supposed to be doing. Sign a few papers, go up the hall and bam, welcome to the Holistic Birthing Center. My people. These nurses and doctors were going to calm me into a birthing stupor. There was going to be a warm pool of water for me to labor in, there was going to be incense burning and damn it all I was going to have a beautiful drug free birth!

What a crock of shit that all turned out to be! We ended up using a "tampon-like thing" the first night to loosen my cervix up. Little did I know that my cervix is made of steel and there is nothing, and I mean NOTHING that can penetrate it! The next morning after I have dilated none, we start pitocin. My birth plan is shot. But still I am convinced that with will and determination I can still have a vaginal delivery. I labor hard for a solid 12 hrs on the highest dose of pitocin allowed, full well expecting that at the end of all of this I was going to have a gorgeous baby boy crawling up my chest for some serious Kangaroo Care. The midwife comes in and during my 12 hr long contraction checks my cervix- I look up with what I can only describe as pitiful eyes, hoping against all hope that we've made some progress only to hear her say that I MAY be at 1 cm. 

ONE CENTIMETER!?!?!? IS THIS WOMAN DERANGED!!!! Lie to me! Tell me I'm at two and I'm doing a wonderful job and that my baby will be here soon!!!  ONE?!?! I feel my entire well of self-confidence shrivel up into a dry pit. One? Come on man. I'm sweaty, I'm gross and I'm exhausted. They ask me if I'd like to have my water broken. I'm still totally against forcing this baby to come out. I still want him to come to it in his own time. So I refuse. I'll rest tonight and tomorrow we will try pitocin again and I'm sure he will find his way out. 

Day Two of labor begins at 4 am. I immediately begin contracting. One big long, 15 hr contraction. In the midst of it all they attempt to break my water- this does nothing. I eventually graduate to a possible 2 cm before the midwife comes in and cradles my exhausted hands and tells me that I need to seriously consider a C-section. At this point I don't have too much choice left, my sweet baby boy is no longer floating in safety and is rather losing fluid and his heart rate isn't fairing well. What else can I do? It's either give in and have this C-section or risk one of our lives trying to get him out. Bring on the O.R!

Within an hour of Jay and I deciding that this was our only option we are being prepped to head back. Jay has been my rock through this entire ordeal. We had agreed to just talk it all out during its duration. And we did just that. Between my screaming and wailing he waited patiently for me to find a break and we could discuss. He never once pushed anything on me, or panicked or let me know for one second that he was as scared as I was. I could not have asked him to do a better job. Had he faltered at any point during all of this I would have lost my cool. He suits up for the O.R with as much enthusiasm as he can muster and gives me a pep talk. "Bird, it's all going to be fine. In a few minutes we are going to have a baby boy!"

He was so right, they wheeled me back, and in 15 minutes I was listening so intently to what was going on that when he finally screamed it was like my entire body just gave in. He's here. He's safe. Holy shit I'm a parent.