Head, shoulder, knees, and . .

Sebastian has feet! This might not come as news to you, but it did to Sebastian. He has recently discovered them and is enthralled. Every opportunity he gets, the little guy is curling himself over to precariously hover above his little paws. He can't quite reach them yet, but when he does I have no doubt that they'll be going where everything else that he can reach does - in his mouth. Lately he's been sucking on his blankets, collars, sleeves, and any toys that he can get in that general direction.

It's been a week of change for us as a family. Simon is away at work for the week, and for the first time in his whole life, Sebastian and I are not spending our days together. I am back to work too, only part-time, but still feeling all the associated guilt and, I think, even a sort of grief at losing this time in our lives. Already we are growing apart in a way, and from what little I know of mommyhood, this distance will grow and grow.

I miss my little buddy, even after I'm home and holding him in my arms.

Back to the grind

I'm really going to miss these mornings. One week left on maternity leave, and the panic is setting in. I have treasured this time at home, this time with my new little boy, this time to focus on what is truly important. This morning, Sebastian awoke at 6 AM and I brought him into the bed with me. He nursed and then we dozed, side by side, until 7. He woke up chattering away and when I took his swaddle off, he stretched his arms and watched his hands as though in wonder (actually, he was probably literally in wonder, as in 'I wonder what the thing is!') He is always full of smiles in the morning, and coo's at me as though he really is happy to see me. I stretch this time out because it is some of the best time we spend together all day. The process of waking up and going to sleep at night are my favorite moments with Sebastian. Eventually, though, reality catches up and I worry that his diaper will start to leak if I don't change it soon, or start to feel badly for wallowing in bed until 8 o'clock, or remember something that I need to do, and we get up, get dressed, and head downstairs.

My other favorite time with Sebastian is in the evenings when I put him to sleep. We have a routine now that I think is very sweet. I change his diaper and put him into his pajamas. Then we sit in the glider with the lights down dim and the white noise machine on. He nurses and I sing "You Are My Sunshine" to him. When he's done eating, I read "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" to him and then usually sing some more while we rock. He is still awake, but drowsy and so snuggly. I give him a kiss on his forehead and swaddle him in his crib before giving him his pacifier and tiptoeing out of the room. In those moments, he is all that matters.

And I suppose that is what I will miss the most about maternity leave. The carefree focus on Sebastian. Having my son be all that matters. Of course he will always be the priority, he will always be the most important thing in my life, but he will not be all that matters. There will be papers to grade, lessons to plan, schedules to keep. We will be awake early with lots to do before I leave, and in the evenings I'll be thinking ahead to all that needs to be done between Sebastian's bedtime and my own. I hope I'll still be able to slow down and enjoy these quiet moments that I've come to treasure with him. I'm going to miss these mornings.

Let the good times . . .

Sebastian is like a miniature King Kong, particularly when I hold his hands and prop him on his feet, allowing him to wobble back and forth, looking down past his Buddha belly to the blanket kingdom below. He also swipes at things now with the accuracy of a drunk, and grasps things that are firmly pressed into his palm. Today, he rolled over. This wasn't the first time he accomplished this baby Everest of feats, but it was the first time in quite a while. He first rolled over at 15 days old, and then promptly did it again (see my last post referencing the smartest, strongest, cutest child ever born). Then he rolled over once again, a few weeks later. But since then, Sebastian's gotten a bit chunky. Well, actually, he is downright fat which from what I've learned about babies, is a good thing. It means he's a good eater and growing well. You see, Sebastian was an itty bitty baby. He was born in the 25th percentile for height and weight, though it sure didn't feel that way to me. He didn't want to eat at first. He lost some weight (all babies do, I'm assured). And then . . . he mastered the fine art of breastfeeding. And boy oh boy, has he gained ground. For the first six weeks after leaving the hospital, Sebastian gained a pound a week. By his one month appointment, he was already 9 lbs 12 oz - the 50th percentile! By his two month appointment, he was 12 lbs 14 oz - the 75th percentile! And now at nearly three months, he is over 14 pounds and wearing 6 month clothing. I've got a regular old Paul Bunyon on my hands here! But with all this extra bulk, the little guy had lost his emerging roll-over skills. . . . until today! He's off and rolling! And hopefully this time it's a skill that will last.

It's been 10 months I guess . . .

Well when I started this blog I had every intention of updating it frequently, documenting all of the pregnancy symptoms that seem so funny on TV - craving ice cream, rushing to the bathroom every five minutes, lack of appropriate work clothes, etc. etc. Yeah, as it turns out, it's not so funny. In fact, thinking that I would document in detail all of my experiences of pregnancy, while working full time, is just the kind of thing a woman who's never been pregnant would think to do.

But the reality is, I found out I was pregnant over ten months ago, which of course means that today, Sebastian is two months old. Exactly two months ago right now, I was lying in labor and delivery with a brand new, six pound squirmer nuzzling into my neck. But let's not skip the fun part . . .

I was completely convinced that Sebastian would take full advantage of his in-utero state and stay put for a full 42 weeks before being forcibly evicted. As week 39 of my pregnancy approached, I was still working full-time, feeling more or less comfortable, and forcing a smile when well-meaning friends cooed "That baby hasn't even dropped yet!" Truth be told, I was thinking the same thing and wondering how I'd ever get this baby out. I finally decided that my last day of work would be the Wednesday before my due date, since this was the earliest I could leave and still have enough sick days to cover full pay through 42 weeks of pregnancy. Being a bit of a control freak, though, I went in to work on Thursday to have a few meetings and ensure that my maternity leave sub was on the right track. I left school Thursday with the intention of finishing a few more unit plans over the next few days and then settling into a full baby countdown. Simon's schedule was such that he came home on Thursday morning and was to be home five days before he went back to work for another five-day stretch. We had agreed that if this child knew what was best for him, he'd spring himself as close to Daddy's first day-off as possible, thereby allowing us the most amount of family time before Daddy headed out again. So, before I went into work for these meetings, we did everything we could to hasten Sebastian's arrival. We tried spicy food, driving down bumpy roads, a little nipple stimulation and . . . the deed, which I'm sure you can imagine is not that exciting anymore when you feel like you're smuggling a watermelon under your skin. I even looked up recipes purported to induce labor and found this: http://www.scalinis.com/Bambino.htm

Simon agreed to make it for me for dinner and headed off to the grocery store while I headed to work. Fast forward to seven that night and we're both enjoying heaping portions of eggplant parmesan. We went to bed early since Simon had been up all night working the night before, and I'm glad we did!

At 11:45PM on Thursday, Oct. 13, I woke up and rolled over to look at the clock. As I rolled, I felt a little pop. Hmm, I wondered, could that be my water? I'd read that it felt like a pop but didn't feel wet. I figured I'd better go to the bathroom and investigate. As soon as I sat on the toilet - GUSH! Oh my! I immediately was in denial. This is not happening right now. Maybe I will just go back to sleep and deal with it in the morning. But then, GUSH again! Wait, I thought I only had one water - what is happening? I couldn't remember if I was supposed to call the midwives right away, or if I could wait until the morning, so I went downstairs to try to look it up. As soon as I did, contractions started strong, and three minutes apart. I still couldn't figure out if I was supposed to call them, and I was still in denial, so I just paced around the living room timing contractions on my phone. Though I still wasn't sure about the rules for water breaking, I did know that if I had ten contractions in an hour, I was supposed to call the midwives. It was past midnight now and I was walking around the living room with Hazel following me and sniffing me suspiciously. She looked concerned. After 45 minutes of this routine, I'd had 16 contractions and still hadn't called the midwives. I really, really wanted to go back to sleep to deal with this in the morning. I momentarily tried lying down on the couch and immediately realized that was not going to happen for me so I went into the bathroom and called the midwives. No answer. Hm, that's odd. I tried again and it rang 12 times before finally a guy from their answering service picked up. I explained in too much detail what was happening and the surprised man finally cut me off and said he'd have the midwife on call give me a ring. In the meantime, I figured it was probably time to wake Simon up between contractions so I headed upstairs. It was about 1:15 AM. As soon as I started to nudge Simon's shoulder with one hand, the cell phone in my other hand started ringing. Simon was bewildered and as much in denial as I'd been when I spluttered that my water broke and the midwives were calling and left the room to answer my phone. Susan of course told us to come in, so we packed way too much stuff into the car and took off. On the way, I called my parents and told them that I thought it was time but decided we'd call them back after I was checked at the birth center.

Simon of course drove way too quickly and I tried to stay calm while contracting every three minutes on the 20 minute car ride to Beverly. Well, it probably only took us 15 minutes this time around. When we arrived at the birth center, Susan said she would just test the fluids to see if it was my water and to my complete shock, she said there was no sign of my water breaking. Now let me tell you, this gush of clear fluid WAS NOT PEE. Uh uh, no way. I know pee, and this was not it. Lucky for us, though, Susan said she would keep us and put me on the monitor for 20 minutes to see what was going on. She didn't want to check if I was dilated or not since that could actually break my water (WHICH, I PROMISE YOU, HAD ALREADY BROKEN.) After the 20 minutes, Susan confirmed that my contractions were strong and steady and that we'd be sticking around to have a baby. HOLY SMOKES! Simon called my parents back and told them to get on the road (they were a two hour drive away and my mom was supposed to be there for the birth, given her experience as a childbirth educator and assisting midwives).

We continued the boring routine of contractions and trying to get comfortable until about 3 AM when I asked if I could get in the tub. Susan seemed a little hesitant since it was still fairly early in the labor, but she agreed and began to run the water. At around 3:30, while laboring in the tub, I told her I was starting to feel a little pressure and she decided to check my cervix for the first time. My mind was swimming with the horrible possibility of her telling me that I was only one or two centimeters after all this work, so I was definitely pleased and also very surprised (as was she!) when she stammered, "Hmmm, you're nine, no eight, eight centimeters!" PHEW! Simon sent my mom a text announcing "8cm already!" and it was only a few more minutes before I told Susan that I wanted to push and she confirmed that I was 10 cm! Woohooo! At this point I was convinced that I was blessed with the easiest and quickest first labor ever and wondered if my baby would be born at the same time I was - 4:32 AM. It was 3:50 when we began to push. And push. And push. 4:32 came and went. My parents arrived. We tried different positions. I got out of the tub. And all the while, Sebastian's heart rate went up, down, up, down. But as the time wore on, it was doing more of a down, down, up pattern that was concerning to all who noticed (read- not me). At around 5 AM the OB over at the hospital was finally concerned enough to order a transfer and suddenly things became very frantic. We were rushed across the street in the dark, in the rain with me on a gurney and Susan asking me to lie down. Women in the final stages of labor cannot lie flat on their backs. Of this I am convinced. When we arrived at labor and delivery, an OB came in and announced that she was going to use a vacuum and that if that did not work, they would be performing a c-section. Well screw that! Sebastian must have heard because he soon corrected his heart rate and the scalpel wielding OB left us alone to do our thing. Finally, at 7:30 Sebastian's heart rate took one final plunge, Susan announced he needed to come out NOW, and at 7:37 AM, the nurses were whisking away my little boy who was fairly limp and eerily quiet, but not for long. I was convinced he must be the biggest baby ever birthed, so when the nurse proudly announced "6lbs, 8oz" I was a little surprised. But Sebastian Ryer Koch had arrived - he was perfect and beautiful and obviously the strongest, smartest, cutest child ever born.

Happy two months Sebastian! You are the best thing I've ever done.

They Call It a BFP?

Apparently if you google, "very faint line on pregnancy test," you will find out that yes, you are pregnant. In fact, you don't even have to google the whole thing. Just type "very fa" and you will quickly realize that you're not the first person to have this question.

So, here I am, home on a snow day, squinting at this barely visible shadow of a line, and wondering, hoping, fingers-crossing that this baby will stick, grow, and be born healthy. Hubby is working, away until Saturday. I am telling myself I will not test again until Friday, and then will test once more with him on Saturday . . . but I also told myself I would not test until my period was due. They call this AF on the discussion boards. I had to google that also. Apparently it stands for "Aunt Flow." I have a lot to learn.

But, for now I believe I have my BFP ("big fat positive," for those out of the loop . . . ) and I think I will sit back, have some tea, and enjoy this moment.