Monday, March 20, 2017

Law of Babies & The Hoover Dam

What you're about to read are true events.

A friend was coming over for dinner so I decided to throw the girls in the bathtub directly after school to get it out of the way. They’re normally pretty well-behaved in the tub so I thought, Hey--why don’t I jump in the shower real quick? After all, the baby was sleeping in the bassinet so I figured I had a little time. 

Plus, my scalp was really hurting. Has your scalp ever hurt because your hair is so heavy? Y'all don’t hate on my thick hair. I’m grateful for it and all, but sometimes it can be a real pain in my... er, head... because it’s so thick and long and the weight just pulls on my scalp. Damn gravity. The pain is comparable to when your two year-old wants to “play with Mommy’s hair”. Wait, maybe that’s why my scalp really hurts? I can’t be sure at this point anymore. Anyway, the only thing that makes my scalp feel better is washing it. Actually, a scalp massage by my husband does the trick, too, but since he was flying, a shampooing would suffice.

But I digress.

I put Alexander in front of the shower (there’s no door or curtain to our shower) so I can keep an eye on him, should he wake up. Which he does because Law of Babies: Whenever a mother enters a shower, a baby shall cry. 
my actual shower. 
pic cred: my actual iphone.


So I’m rinsing out the shampoo and dreading turning the hot water off, when I hear, “Adelaide stop hitting me! MOOOOMMMMM, she’s hitting me thirty times!”

Shit.

How long has she been hitting her big sis while I was in the shower? How dare I care about my hygiene! Moms can be so selfish sometimes...

I throw a towel around me and fly down the hall to see: Yes. Yes, the toddler is hitting her sister. To which I sternly state, “Adelaide, stop hitting your sister.” Naturally. Then run back down the hall to tend to the still-crying newborn. 

I know he’s hungry because he looks like a blind baby bird searching for a worm. But my hair is sopping wet and I don’t want to baptize him because I don’t think I am qualified to do that; plus none of our family is here and I’d be such a jerk if I held such a momentous occasion without them. So I tell him he’s gotta take one for the team and wait while I brush my hair and ring out some of the water. But this isn’t an easy feat because my hair is naturally wavy-curly and it takes half a bottle of detangler spray and a month to brush it. No joke. My roommate in college could take a full shower before I was done brushing my hair. It sounds like I’m being ungrateful for my thick and long hair. I promise I’m not. Well maybe just a little.

So three hours go by and the baby is STILL crying. Sheesh, doesn’t he understand priorities? So I go to pick him up to nurse him, only to hear, “STOP IT ADELAIDE! MMOOOOOMMMMM, she’s hitting me again!” I run down the hall, but this time in the buff, and also this time leaking breastmilk down my body. It’s like the Hoover Dam has sprouted a leak from my boobs. I shout to the girls, “Drain the water; you’re getting out!” Then run back down the hall to the baby. Still crying.

I start to pick him up then think, I better put on some pants. It's drafty. I STILL hear fighting from the girls so I shove the baby on the boob, then run back down the hall. With one hand, because Baby on the Boob, I get Adelaide out of the tub, towel her up, dry her off, and put on her pull-up and jammies. Emmalyn is old enough to fend for herself. Well, I wouldn’t send her out into the wild to fend for herself--yet. She’s only six! She needs to be at least ten for that. Geeze, what kind of mom do you think I am?!

The moral of the story? There is none. This was just a crazy and true scene from my life and I thought I’d share. You’re welcome :) 

loyally,
katie

Friday, March 10, 2017

A Postpartum Update


It’s been three weeks since our little man, Alexander, entered the world. And if you didn’t already know, I had to have an emergency c-section, after twenty-four hours of labor, because the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck--three times! Of course we didn’t know this until he was born. 

It was such an out-of-body-experience, and in a lot of ways, just like you see in the movies: After being stuck at 7cm and contractions not increasing in intensity, and hours of the doctor, nurses, and Blake maneuvering me in every possible position to try to get a better read of the baby's heartbeat, my OB-GYN finally said, "We did all we could. We need to go NOW."

To say I was frightened to have a c-section would be an understatement. I was taken by total surprise, after having two previous natural deliveries. I also have never had surgery before. I was shaking and crying and praying a hundred Hail Mary’s. 

But it was all worth it for my perfect little boy. Because it was an emergency delivery, nurses were pulled in from all directions and they didn’t know we’d been keeping his gender a surprise. I imagined a huge “IT’S A.....!” announcement, but there was nothing. Honestly, I didn’t even know the doctor had already cut into me until I heard a baby cry. Blake and I, blind on the other side of the curtain, heard whispers of, “Hey buddy” and “his” and “he”. We looked at each other and I said, “Did they say ‘he’?!” But it wasn’t until the nurse brought him around the curtain that we saw the true reveal. It was a BOY! We both broke down in tears. 

The c-section was a surprise, but the fact that our baby was a boy was an even bigger shocker! I couldn’t believe it. Some days, I still don’t even believe it, even though I change his diaper a million times a day.

I think what scared me the most about having a c-section was the thought of recovering, while also taking care of three small humans. I thought, I’m going to be in lots of pain and confined to a bed--how the heck am I going to do this?! Originally, Blake and I planned to have a couple of days at home before family came to visit, but because of the urgency of my care, my angelic mother-in-law flew in just hours after we got home from the hospital. Unfortunately, my mom had to have unexpected surgery on her foot and was unable to come. (But that’s a whole other emotional story. Thankfully she’s recovering well! Praise God!)

The recovery of a c-section was a painful one and it took a toll on me emotionally. On top of that, our oldest daughter came down with a 104 fever, and the baby and I had to basically be quarantined to the bedroom. That did not do well for my psyche. You’d think with this being my third child, I would have remembered how much of an emotional roller coast postpartum can be, but I didn’t. I had many moments of, Is this EVER going to get better? and Am I EVER going to feel like myself again? Needless to say, I wasn’t cutting myself much slack, and was being far too hard on myself, especially after having major abdominal surgery. I’m thankful for a husband and a phone call from my therapist to remind me: One step at a time... 


With my history of Postpartum Depression, I couldn’t help but think, “Is today the day I’m going to get it?” I had the same feelings after Adelaide was born, too. But I had to force myself to stay positive, patient, and faithful in the Lord. I’m happy to say that it doesn’t look like PPD is going to be rearing its ugly head this time around! I have zero anxiety about taking care of the baby, and my girls are driving me the same amount of bananas as they always were. 

The adjustment from two to three was easier than I anticipated. But then again, I usually have the mentality of “expect the worst...” that way I’m pleasantly surprised. There are a lot of "stop-touching-hims" and a lot more “wait-a-minutes” these days, but I’m hoping that will soon dissipate, as the girls are forced to be learn to be more patient. (A mom can dream, right?!)


Overall, I’m doing really well! I’m so grateful to all the people who have called, prayed, taken care of the girls, and brought us meals to feed our bellies and save us from cooking or giving our kids frozen pizza and mac-n-cheese every night. We’ll save those meals for when things get back to normal ;-)

loyally,
katie

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