Lactation Consultants and Baby Zits

We got our bill from the hospital today. It was rather a traumatic experience, but it was also the version before insurance, so no big.

One particular charge, however, I must rant about. Oh, most of them were very intense pain meds, but those I will not complain about. Oh, no, those were worth every penny. The lactation consultants, however, were not.

Those of you who read my previous baby-related posts have experienced mymini-ranting on the ridiculous amount of advice I received in regards to feeding my baby. The two lactation consultants who came into my room told me nothing that I hadn't already heard from ALL of my nurses. Their presence in my room totaled about three minutes and they basically just looked awkwardly at my breasts (one of them walked in on me while Katie was feeding). And their total on my itemized hospital bill was $70. Yeah. I won't expound.

In other news, I have a confession. This is particularly dedicated to those who had trouble with jealousy issues on the last one. Yes, it's true, my baby is not in every way perfect.

She has baby zits. Gross, pimply little whiteheads all over her face. Don't get me wrong, she's still the cutest thing since, well, ever. She just has a bunch of baby zits. That is my confession. Sigh . . .

Why I have the perfect baby

Warning: some pf you may begin to writhe on the floor with jealousy while reading this post. If you know you are prone to such convulsions, please get a friend or family member to stand behind you and rub your shoulders. But a note of caution: do not let this friend also read the post. Then you'll both end up on the floor. Rather, take turns. That's safer.

Now, why my baby is the perfect baby:

1. She sleeps. At night. And I'm not kidding either. I know what you're thinking: newborn parents are supposed to show up to church puffy and red-eyed and incapable of intelligent speech, right? Well, perhaps that is usually the case. But parents of Katie show up only slightly tired but still enthusiastic. Because she wakes us up at night twice at the most. And sleeps for four-hour stretches between feedings. Which means that last night I slept for eight or nine hours. Still tired, but that's because I GAVE BIRTH a week ago. Somewhat of a traumatic physical experience.

2. She doesn't puke very much. Seriously! If she does, it's like once a day. And that's only when she's feeling needy and forces herself to eat too much. My mom made these beautiful burp cloths that we use all the time, but they don't get much wear. It's a little bit awesome.

3. She's just so happy! Even in the hospital, when she was awake she'd just stare at you and make faces and stuff. She's really not a fussy baby at all. She kind of was this morning, but then she exploded her diaper and now she's blissfully asleep. (And you can't say she's not perfect just because she exploded her diaper. I bet even Mary had to change explosive diapers.)

4. She's really good at breastfeeding. I think that's a major concern for most new moms in the hospital, because every single nurse you come in contact with has to give you the twenty-minute spiel about how to latch your baby to your boob, and then they send in several different lactation consultants to be nosey and ask you awkward questions and then give you the exact same spiel the nurses did. But MY baby latched on just fine the very first time I ever met her, when they stuck her on my chest and she was still covered in a little bit of goop and we tried breastfeeding for the first time. So there, lactation consultants. (Side rant: do they really have to SEE it before they let you leave? I just think that's ridiculous. "Yes, my baby is eating. I changed three poopy diapers today. Doesn't that mean she's getting enough? You don't have to see me naked ALL the time . . . ")

Those are the big ones. Everything she does kind of falls into these categories. Okay, not kind of. It does. Eat. Sleep. Poop. That's it. Oh, and snuggle, but I already said she was happy.

Still alive, you jealous people? (And did the shoulder rubbing work? I've never actually tested that theory.)

Occupation: Katie's Mommy. (Warning: this is the whole story)

JANUARY 13, 2011

10:20 a.m.

I go into my doctor's office for a regular check-up. My doctor puts the little baby monitor on my belly to listen to her heart. Over the course of a couple of minutes, her heart rate changes a bit--enough to make him nervous. He decides to send me to the hospital for non-stress test to make sure Katie's doing okay.

He tells me that if there is anything at all on the test to make us nervous, they would induce me that day. Otherwise, they were scheduling me for Monday (which would be over a week late).

NOTE: I had two minor contractions while talking to the doctor.

11:45 a.m.

I'm lying on a table in a little curtained area where they do non-stress tests, across the hall from labor and delivery. They've strapped a fetal heart monitor onto my belly. The nurse does an ultrasound to make sure nothing bad is going on, then leaves me and Mike alone listening to baby's heartbeat. She is watching it out at her nurse's station.

Baby's moving just fine, and we're listening to what Mike and I think is a steady heartbeat. Neither of us thinks anything is wrong. We start whispering excitedly about how we'll be parents no later than Monday, and how she'd be born on my half birthday. It still doesn't feel real.

NOTE: I had a few more small contractions.

Close to 12:00 p.m.

The nurse comes back into my curtained area. She says that there were some places where the heart rate dropped enough to make her nervous, so she showed it to the perinatologost, who agreed. She says that even though the baby's not in dire peril, they like to stop problems before they start. They're going to induce me right away.

NOTE: I may have just freaked myself out, but I have a particularly strong contraction right then.

1:00 p.m.

I'm lying on quite a different table now. The nurse from perinatology has walked me and Mike across the hall to labor and delivery. We both stop in the bathroom on the way. A nice blonde woman has checked me into the office and gives me some pamphlets. We sit in a cozy little lobby while she looks me up and scans my insurance card. Then she hits an ominous button and two double doors open on their own. (Note: these doors do not have handles. On either side. Freaky.)

I've changed into a rather boring hospital gown and climbed up onto the bed in my spacious, comfortable delivery room with wall-windows that overlook the valley. The nurses have had much difficulty putting in my IV because my hands are so swollen, but now I have saline dripping on me. I also have a fetal heart monitor and a contraction monitor strapped to my belly. Mike and I are getting ready for the long haul. The nurse tells us that they begin Pitocin on 4 mL an hour, increasing it slowly until it gets to 20 mL/hr, at which point they'll break my water and see what happens.

NOTE: The instant the Pitocin was dripping into my veins (on the lowest dose), the contractions were two to three minutes apart. I don't think we're going to need that whole bag.

Around 5:30 p.m.

Dr. Glenn comes in after his office closes, and he and the nurse tell me that they've been watching my contractions and that they're going to break my water. I'm only up to about 8 mL/hr, but I'm really not having fun. They break my water and it doesn't much change my contractions, but we're hoping it will speed things up. Dr. Glenn gives the nurse some kind of instructions, and we're on our own again.

After 6 p.m.

My contractions are getting really hard. Because we were caught unawares, we don't have our hospital bag, which I spent so much care in packing. This means I don't have my iPod or any of the other things I was going to use to distract myself. We do however have my copy of The Princess Bride, which I was reading in the doctor's office before we went in. I've been reading aloud to Mike because I'm hilarious and do all the voices. This is also a good idea because every time a contraction gets too bad to handle (every minute and a half or so) I put the book down on my stomach and close my eyes, and Mike knows to come hold my hand and help me breathe. He's superman. I'm starting to feel like chickening out.

Around 7 p.m.

I've chickened out and the anesthesiologist is coming. The epidural feels weird and makes my nerves feel funny. Mike points out that he's playing with my spine. Now it all makes sense. The instant they put it in, I feel all happy. Life is much better now. I keep reading for a little while, and every once in a while, Mike says "Are you feeling anything right now?" and I say, "no." He then smiles and says, "Because you just got over the biggest contraction you've had yet." It's starting to get dark and we're both exhausted from the first six hours, so we both fall asleep.

. . . . time passing . . . .

. . . . other gross things happening . . . .

JANUARY 14, 2011

6:57 a.m.

After much tribulation and my epidural wearing almost completely off by the time I was stitched up, I'm done. New dad has followed Katie around with tears streaming down his face as the nurses weigh, measure, and test her. He sends a picture text of bright red, screaming Katie to our parents by way of telling them she's finally born. I'm panting and shaking and in a significant amount of pain, but I'm a little bit distracted. I want to see my baby but I can't because I haven't worn my glasses since the first hour and she's across the room. Finally, Mike brings her over to me, wrapped in a hospital blanket, and puts her on my chest. The doctor and nurses leave us alone as a family for a few minutes.

There are no words to describe this feeling.

9:30 a.m. . . . -ish.

I'm sitting in my hospital room, safely wheeled downstairs with a heated blanket to stop my shaking. They've stuck a hospital tray of breakfast (croissant, raspberries and yogurt, honey nut cheerios) in front of me, but my nurse has shaken her head disgustedly and said, "oh honey, we get room service down here. You'll get something much better than that." But it's still food, which I haven't had since breakfast before my doctor's appointment the day before.

Finally, Mike comes back from the nursery with Katie. They've cleaned her, poked and prodded her, and tested all kinds of things. Mike glowingly tells me she got perfect scores on all fronts and that even though there were four babies born between 6:50 and 7 and she was the last one downstairs, she was both the healthiest and the first to leave the nursery. They've dressed her in a little T-shirt with mittens over her hands and Mike has picked out a little purple bow that they glued to her head. We just sit and stare at each other for a while.

My life is perfectly complete.

JANUARY 15, 2011

Just after 4:00 p.m.

My mom arrives at the hospital. I don't think she even knows I'm there.

JANUARY 16, 2011

9:30 a.m.

We're going home! Katie's tiny little body nestles into the middle of the car seat, which could comfortably fit a kid six times her size. They make me sit in a wheelchair and hold the free stuff while Grandma holds Katie and Daddy waits outside with the car. Seriously, I could walk just a few hours after labor. Why can't I do it two days later? Oh well.

We get home while everybody else is still at church, so we don't encounter many people. We walk into the apartment and it smells like whatever food the neighbors had been cooking.

It's good to be home.

Katherine Louise

Born January 14, 2011

6:57 a.m.

7 lbs, 14 oz

19" long

Welcome to the world, baby Katie!

No, I haven't had a baby yet.

When I quit my job and turned all domestic, Mike told me I wasn't allowed to be one of those blogger moms who spends all her time on her blog and not with her family. Unfortunately, I have a little less than nothing to do but wait for Katie to decide to GET BORN! Come on, kid!

The first week of school was rather uneventful. Last Monday was my last day at work, and it was super weird. I tried to wrap up my work and leave notes and stuff explaining myself to everyone, and then . . . I left. I've only been called a couple of times for help with various things, and my interaction with campus has been extremely limited. Meaning, I've only been there twice in the last week and only to the JKB, which is on the northernmost end of campus (meaning I didn't go anywhere else or even pass another building).

Things I've learned in my first week of homemaker being my official occupation:

1. When you're nine months pregnant, you can afford to not feel any guilt about sleeping in until noon every day. Seriously, though. When we started this whole business, I felt guilty about Mike getting up and going to work and school all day while I sat at home. But then I realized that as soon as Katie's born, I will NEVER SLEEP IN AGAIN. So I refuse to feel guilt.
2. I never can get as many things done as I plan on. When I started this, I was like, "yeah, I'll be so productive it will hurt!" Yeah, right.
3. I'm really bad at being home alone. Seriously. Mike's gone 8-5 on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and 9-after my class on Tuesday and Thursday, and I sit there waiting impatiently for him to get home. I hope this will change when there's a Katie. I figure I just don't like being alone. And Katie will count as a person. So when she's here, I won't be alone.
4. As an appendage to the last one, I'm really bad at letting Mike do his homework when he gets home, because I spent all day missing him. I guess I could do homework, since technically I have some, but I don't. I just do my best to distract Mike away from biochemistry so that he'll pay attention to me.

There are other things I've learned, which don't merit a number of their own. For example: it's really easy to not shower until three in the afternoon, it's much more fun to people watch during the day, it's much easier to sit in Katie's room and stare eagerly at the crib than it is to do anything productive, and it's super super super easy to not do anything but sit on the couch and sleep on and off.

Do you think I'll learn how to function again when I'm a mommy and not an extremely pregnant woman?

THIS is the epic blog post you've been waiting for.

Sorry it didn't come yesterday like I planned. There were unforeseen obstacles to my ability to blog (like a complete lack of motivation to do anything productive).

And now . . . HERE COME THE UPDATES AND PICTURES!!! WOOOHOOO!!!!

First, please direct your attention immediately to the right of this post. Notice that big 'ole button that says "I'm a Mormon"? Well, that's a link to my mormon.org profile. Mike and I finally managed to make them (we did it for our FHE activity this week). I figured, if they're talking about it in General Conference and there's a full-on insert in the Ensign, they're probably serious.

Next, about this whole baby business. As of a week ago Tuesday (meaning December 14), I was 1cm dilated and 50% effaced. And that week, baby was still measuring long. This week, (December 21), I don't know how dilated I am, but baby has slowed down and is now "average-sized." I still have heartburn, sore muscles, hips that hate me a lot, sometimes nausea, dizziness, and Braxton-Hicks . . . but no Katie yet. I'll be 38 weeks on Sunday. For twins, that's the due date. But for just one baby . . . I have to keep waiting. Grr.

Yesterday morning, Mike was reading his book (I think he's on The Two Towers now) and looked up and said "I fully expect you to go into labor later today." When I asked him why, he said, "because you're nesting like crazy." It seems that without even thinking about it, I had cleaned off the table, organized Katie's room, cleaned our bedroom, remade the bed, put away all the dishes, folded Katie clothes and cleaned off her changing table, swept the kitchen, and vacuumed the whole house. Rather. So maybe I was sort of kidding about being unproductive.

Now, to some pictures. I caved: here's one of the two of us. I just realized we hadn't had a picture together in like ninety years. Because it's always just us without a photographer. So most of my pictures are . . . Mike. But here's us.

This crib bedding is what my mom gave me. I think it's the same stuff all of my siblings used. It also came with a lamp, but we have that up on the shelf. (I don't think babies like to sleep with lamps. That's why we left the giraffe and the Peter Rabbit books instead. Much more cuddly. Or . . . entertaining? I don't think books are cuddly either . . . I think we need to rethink our plan.)

This bassinet we also inherited from my mom. I love the pretty eyelet cover. Note: this bassinet has since moved from Katie's room into its designated place in our room, in an effort to encourage the little stinker to get born. The carseat has also been strapped into the car. Now if only she'd get the hint . . .

Along with all the big stuff, my mom also gave me a bin full of little girl clothes (some of which, yes, I myself did wear). Oh my goodness, all the frilly dresses made me giggle so hard my face hurt. We took them home and washed them all and Mike was a good sport helping me put them all away. Note: being an awesome dad and appreciating cute baby clothes does not in any way decrease man points. If anything, it enhances them. (He worried about me putting this picture up.)

This is me and some friends from the awesome baby shower that Sara (furthest right) threw for me at her house. The picture turned out a little blurry, but still good. They're holding up twine from the "guess how big around Brittany's belly is" game. I think it should be mentioned that they let me cut a piece without cheating at all, and I got it exactly. Like, exactly. No gaps and no extra. Everybody else cut off the extra from theirs to compare, but I had none. Because I guessed exactly right. Who wins the spatial reasoning award now, huh?

This one is less blurry, but includes the winner of the aforementioned belly competition. Jackie is second from left and only had, like, a 1cm remnant. It was super close. And she was winner because apparently the pregnant lady herself cannot win.

This picture is included because I think baby shoes are only the cutest thing that ever happened. The saddle shoes I got from my mom (again, I think I wore them), but the red ones I got at my shower. Oh! and the burp clothes my mom made. She said the BYU one is for Mike, so he can still look manly while burping a frilly little girl baby.

Can you tell we just really want Katie to get born? I have . . . (cough cough) I mean SANTA has . . . some cute little stocking stuffers, but she's not here yet, so I'll have to open her presents for her. Seriously. Come out, kid. I'm getting rather impatient. And my back hurts. That's a sure sign that you're supposed to get born soon.

You know, Mike and I thought Christmas would be weird just staying here with the two of us, but so far it's been really fun. We had yesterday (the 23rd) off and just did almost nothing, except nest. Then, in the afternoon, I got all baking happy. So far there are two kinds of cookies, and tomorrow after Christmas, there will be more cookies and pumpkin pies. I'm feeling all domestic.

Our Christmas eve itinerary: wake up after 10, eat leftover pancakes while watching It's a Wonderful Life (crying may ensue), take a shower, vote to get back into pajamas rather than get dressed, play some riveting games of Uno (I won, by the way), eat macaroni and cheese, take a nap, read some fun books, blog, watch Santa Claus is Coming to Town, read the Christmas story from Luke 2, then maybe another game or something before going to bed (where we won't sleep because we're all acting like little kids today). No, seriously. We both have been so excited about the presents we got each other that we're all super excited about Christmas. It's gonna be great.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!!!!

COMING THIS THURSDAY!!!

A totally epic blog post for Christmas. You should be excited.

Also, it has been snowing big, heavy snowflakes since before I woke up this morning (and I woke up early because work starts at 8). Blech. Heaven help anybody who waited until today to leave Provo.

Maybe I should take some pictures of myself now that I'm so pregnant people actually gasp when they see me. That would be cool.

A few small notes

Some may have noticed that I very conspicuously didn't say anything about Thanksgiving break in my last posts. Just know that the ride there was very traumatic and I almost went into labor, Aunt Annie called my baby Katie Lou (which I have secretly wanted to do for a long time so this kind of gives me affirmation), food was delicious, I actually slept in a bit, and the ride home was LOOOOOOOOOONG. Oh, and the break wasn't nearly long enough. That's it.

In other news, last night when I went to run some errands, I passed a mom and two little blond boys, and the boys' names were Talmage and Kimball. I can understand wanting your kids to have good role models as their namesakes, but really? Couldn't they be James and Spencer and it would be just as good? Only in Utah. Seriously.

I really don't feel like doing anything at all today. Like moving. Or keeping my eyes open. I told Mike that and he said "You're growing a Katie. I think that counts as a lot." I hope so, because otherwise I'm a total lazy slob who never cooks and who hates walking. But it's a life, I guess.