All the gory details (feel free to skip over this if you don't like gory details)

So after 40 weeks and 3 days, I finally had a baby!  Just about the only thing that I knew about childbirth was that you can't really predict how it's going to go down, so trying to plan for it seemed awfully silly to me.  Unfortunately,  you kinda can't help but make some assumptions, and just about every one I made ended up being wrong.  Like I sorta assumed I would labor quickly, after all, everyone else in my family did, how unfair would it be if I was the only one who didn't?  And I assumed it would all go smoothly without any major complications, because we all always assume that.  I do anyway.  It's too scary and stressful to assume otherwise.  I assumed that I would do the whole skin-to-skin thing right after giving birth, because I'd read about how great it is for you and the baby (especially the baby), and it's something my hospital really pushes.  I assumed I'd donate the cord blood, because I'm a nice person like that.  Even filled out the 15 page form and everything!

Yeah, none of that happened.

I already talked about how I was a little overdue going into labor anyway, but I didn't go too far, and I didn't need an induction, so that was good.  It all started at about 9pm on Sunday.  My head had literally just hit the pillow when I started getting...  wet.  Gross.  So I grab a towel, get Joe, and off we go!  When we got to the hospital they laughed when I said that my water had broke, and all gave each other knowing looks and told me "yeah....  you're the fourth tonight!" I thought that meant that they were super busy, but then when the Doc checked me he was like "Oh!  This is a real one!" so I guess they'd been having false alarms all night.  By this point my contractions had started.  They were very uncomfortable, but not super bad.  Until they told me that I was still only a centimeter dilated.  I was admitted, whisked into the l&d room, and decided to go ahead with the epidural because they were getting to the point where they were right on top of each other, and I was sooo not looking forward to several more hours of that.

So things keep going.  Joe and I tried to doze off when we could. Talked when we felt more awake. Nurses and Doc's came and went.  By 5:30 I was finally 9 cm!  Woo!  The epidrual was starting to wear off, and they offered to give me some more, and I say yes, so they call for the anesthesiologist.  But one of the Doc's thought something looked a little weird.  And then suddenly, Doctors!  Nurses!  Techs! Everyone!  Rushes into my room and checks machines and stares at me (well, a part of me) very intently and argues and orders drugs and suddenly I'm getting a shot in the arm because my contractions are happening so quickly that baby's heart rate wasn't able to recover, and was getting very low, so they needed to stop the labor from progressing so he could rest.  Not that they told me any of this at the time, mind you.  I'm just laying there wondering what the hell is going on and getting more and more scared as the minutes go by.  It wasn't until everyone but my regular nurse had left that she was able to talk to me.  And of course, explain that I can't get more pain meds because of the other shot they'd given me.

Awesome.

It starts to get a little fuzzy after that. Much pain.  Followed by more.  Followed by feeling like someone had shot an arrow through my hip and back and it got stuck there.  Followed by the most unfair thing ever- throwing up while having a contraction.  That was when I started crying.  I hate throwing up under the best of circumstances, but while my insides are twisting and there's a giant stick jammed in my back? Nope, not doing that.  I swear to God, if I could've talked I would've said something to the effect of "I give up, I'm not doing this anymore," despite how impossible that is.  It's probably a good thing that I wasn't able to say that, because I'm pretty sure I would've decked the nurse (or Joe) for telling me that giving up wasn't really an option at that point.

Finally by 11 I was able to start pushing!  Woo!  By this point I'd been at the hospital for 13 hours, and had been at 9 cm for 6.  So I start to push.  And I keep pushing.  And they keep saying positive, helpful things to me while I was pushing, and then telling me how he wasn't moving when the contractions subsided.  After....  uh...  an hour?  An hour and a half?  A midwife comes in to check on me and despite the fact that 3 other doctors and a few nurses had checked and said all was fine, she notices that the baby's facing the wrong way- sideways, instead of facing my spine.  So she turns him and finally at 1:...  13?  16?  I feel like I should know that.  1:16 I think, he was born.  Yay!

Yeah, I so didn't care.  All the pain meds had worn off, I was beyond exhausted, there was something said about meconium and the cord and there were pediatricians there and all I wanted was the anesthesiologist to come back and give me meds.  At one point I think they did actually offer to let me hold him and I, very polity I'm sure, declined.  After I got my meds though, I looked over and saw the look on Joe's face while he was watching them cleaning him up and felt a lot better.  It wasn't until later that I learned that the cord was wrapped around his neck during the delivery.  Some things might be better left unsaid, especially to an already freaking out and exhausted woman who only cares about getting through this horrible ordeal.

He's fine now though.  :)  And I'm feeling much better.  Well, sorta.  He didn't sleep at all last night, which meant that I didn't sleep at all last night (Joe was able to get a little bit of rest downstairs while I was up with baby because we need one of us to be able to drive to the Doc's appt today), so I made myself some coffee.  And NOW he sleeps.  All peaceful and quiet.  And even though I'm still exhausted, I can't sleep with fresh caffeine in my system.

And that's why I wrote this big long blog.

You're welcome.

I can't believe I'm still pregnant!

Ok, first of all, FU to blogger to making it so freaking hard for me to get to this page, just because I made a new email account with my "new" last name. The one I've had for over a year.  For some stupid reason, I can't figure out how to add myself (as the new address) as a contributer to the blog.  And as I was writing that, it just signed me out of my "new" email address (that I've been using for several months, text me or something if you want it but don't have it) and automatically signed me into my old one.  *bangs head into wall*  I might just give up on this blog and start a whole new one.

Also- mac people- is there any way to right click with the mouse pad on the computer?  I got the actual mouse set up to right click, but then it died, so I only have the touch pad mouse thingie, and being able to right click is very helpful when writing cuz then I can fix spelling errors easily.  So, you know, sorry for all the errors in this one, I may go back and fix them, but I may not.  I'm sure you wont think of less me.

Today is April 18, 2013.  It is supposed to mark the end of my pregnancy.  It's only 10:30, so it still could.  There's still plenty of time for today to be my son's birthday.  The thing is though, it somehow never really occurred to me that I'd still be pregnant today.  I mean sure, I said that I knew I could be late going into labor.  Rationally, I knew that the whole "due date" thing is just the middle of the time when babies normally come, so it's not like it's some hard and fast rule.  I knew that lots of people go into labor a few days, or even weeks after this day.  And yet, in the back of my mind, I always knew that none of those silly little "facts" were relevant and that I'd give birth early!  That by today not only would I already have a baby, I'd probably already be home.  It still scares me too that everytime I look in the mirror, I swear my stomach is bigger.  He can't seriously still be gaining weight, can he?  At my last 5 or so doctor's appointments either the doctor or the nurse has commented on how I'm "all belly," and really, I feel like I am.  Not just how they meant it (one went on to clarify that my pregnant body looks pretty much like a normal, not pregnant body, except for the belly and the baby and not much else is different), but like I'm seriously all belly.  There's nothing else.  Just this giant stomach with this squirming and kicking and hiccuping person inside of it.

So I've been walking a lot.  Even when I'm not walking around the block, or to go "check the mail" for the 5th time, despite the fact that I got the mail the first time, I'm pacing.  I'm wandering around the house.  I'm investigating every leaf on my cilantro and basil plants (and cursing the existance of white flies, which technically, btw, aren't even flies, and are immune to even the strongest pesticides, and really like to kill all my plants because they're evil bastards and I hate them) and talking to the lizards that live around our house.  I'm drinking a ton of water, because that's what you're supposed to do, and the bathrooms are upstairs, so that makes me have to walk up and down the stairs a few dozen times a day, and I figure, that's good for me, right?  Loosen up my pelvis or something?  Everyone says that he'll come when he's ready, but that seems silly to me.  It's not him who we're waiting for, it's my uterus!  So it's my fault that I'm still pregnant!  Ugh.

I also feel like I've become really, really boring.  For the last several months my life has been all about waiting for this new life to be born, and not much else.  It's been over a year since I've had a job.  I don't see myself getting one anytime soon either.  I'd like to go back to work, I feel like I'll go crazy if I don't, but we'll see.  Right now, living here, it's not really an option.  I'm kinda hoping that once I have a baby, I wont want to work so badly.  I do have a friend here with a toddler (15 months, that counts as a toddler, right?), but lately it's kinda too hard to hang out with her, since it's so hard for me to move, or be more than 10 feet away from the bathroom at any given time.  And I can't really go anywhere, because I need to be ready to go to the hospital on a moments notice.  Well, probably not a moment's notice, I'll probably have several hours of notice, but I'd rather spend those hours at home with my husband and my cats and my comfy couch and bed.

I can say with a fair amount of certainty that though, that the next time I update this (or give up and make a new blog), I'll be a mother.  Which is such a scary thought....  Maybe it's ok that he's taking his time...

I'm not fat, I'm pregnant!

Oh yeah, the other thing I was going to post!  I weighed myself this morning and yay!  I weigh more than I ever have before!  :-/  It's a weird feeling.  Hard not to go running straight for the stationary bike and peddle like my life depends on it.  Especially because I know I still need to gain another 15-20 pounds.  As long as it's mostly just my stomach (well, uterus, but yeah) and hips, that's ok, but I don't want to get flabby arms and legs!  I just keep reminding myself that it's all for baby, and that as long as I stay active and eat well, I shouldn't have too much trouble losing the extra pounds.  Maybe I should stop making so many cookies though...  And I might not have needed all that 75% off Christmas candy, but it was so cheap!  Milky Way snowmen!  Lindt chocolate bears!  M&M's that are just regular M&Ms except with festive packaging!  All so cheap!  And yummy!  And I had to eat that leftover pie before it went bad!  I'm only about 6-7 pounds more than I was when I got pregnant, but  I did lose several pounds during those first few months, so really I've gained over 10 pounds in the past month, which is more than I should have.  Maybe it's time to go walk to the mailbox....  and maybe I should get there by going down the beach and all the way around the neighborhood....

New Years festivities, vacations, vacuums, and probably not poisonous mushrooms

I keep trying to post on facebook, but then realize that I have a whole paragraph, so I figured maybe facebook isn't actually the best spot for my thoughts, because apparently, I have many, many thoughts.  What can I say?  I'm a thoughtful person (that's totally what thoughtful means, right?).

So, thought number one- Holy crap people here get really excited about New Years!!  I have never heard such a loud, sustained celebration as I did last night.  People were literally running up and down the streets screaming at the top of their lungs.  Kids were setting off poppers and those little fireworks that you just put on the ground (you know what I'm talking about, right?  The kind that you just light and then a bunch of lights shoots up a few feet?  Not like real fireworks... hm.) from about 9am until 1am, and no, that's not a typo.  They didn't wait for it to get dark to start lighting stuff on fire.  We could hear all the really big explosions from the resorts all night, several of which actually shook our house.  Luckily, the cats handled it a lot better than I thought they would.  They didnt really like all the loud noises, but they were so happy that my parents were gone that they didn't mind too much.

And that brings me to thought number two!  All last week my parents were here.  It was pretty great, cuz it was a nice vacation for us as well as for them.  We got to do all kinds of fun stuff, like checking out the huge waves in the North Shore and watching the surfers and boogie boarders (the boogie boarders looked like they were having waaaaayyyy more fun), snorkeling out in K-Bay, whale watching at Kaena Point, we even managed to sneak a luau in there.  I don't think we did a very good job of showing why we don't like it here, but that's ok.  That wasn't really the point, after all.

We just ordered a new vacuum!  We only had the little electric one, and that wasn't really doing it's job. We needed a sucky vacuum! We'd been looking at them for awhile, but didn't really want to spend all the money on a nice one yet (seriously, nice vacuums are way more expensive than I'd realized.  actually, pretty much everything in life is more expensive than I'd thought...), but then we saw the Dyson Animal on Bestbuy for $270 off.  I hate to plug a big retailer like that, especially one as annoying as Best Buy, but they had the same one for sale at the Nex and it was still $100 more.  That's some pretty exciting savings!  And even without having to pay all the insane hospital and doctor fees, having a baby is expensive!  Right now we have the stroller, the adapter for the car seat to fit in the stroller (although we dont have the car seat yet, we can only get a few certain kinds, and they were out), a breast pump, a changing table, a rocking sleeper thingie, and a handful of clothes.  We dont have any onesies, or diapers, or a crib, or a dresser, or bedding, or....  I dunno, what else do we need?  Gates...  I know we need gates to block off the areas we don't want the kid going.  Like the wine racks.  Also, I need a new computer (not everything is about the baby).  It's a good thing that my wonderful husband is about to get a raise!  Is it too early for me to be thinking about going back to work?  We were talking about setting up something for a college fund, and then of course started talking about things like retirement, and we're gonna need a down payment for a house and the car needs some body work and eek!

Next week is my last week of my second trimester.  We're about to be completely responsible for a tiny human's life.  Scary.

In a couple weeks we have our site leader training class for a whale watching thing we're doing.  We wont be going out onto a boat, just watching from shore, but we'll have about 20 people or so that we'll be leading to help us write down when we see the whales, what they're doing, how many they are, etc.  Should be fun.  Then after that I want to do a turtle thing, where to write down all of the above, and also just hang out at the beach answering questions and talking to tourists.  With the sudden life change that's about to happen, I'm not sure how much time I'll have to do that, but they said they only ask that you volunteer once or twice a month, which should be doable.  And after you prove that you actually are going to show up, they give you a bunch of books on sea turtles, which sounds pretty dang good to me!  I'll just need to figure out what to do with the baby while I'm out there....  Hmm.

We have a crazy mushroom growing in the backyard, and I'm pretty sure it's one of the really yummy good to eat kinds (based on my mushroom ID book, and the internet), but I'm still not going to actually try it.  I should take some pics though... It's pretty cool looking.  

Talking to my past self.

A few days ago, I was watching tv...  or reading an article...  maybe it was a commercial? about going back in time and giving advice to your younger self.  So then I started thinking about what I would tell myself.  I've certainly made my fair share of mistakes, and experienced plenty of pain, wouldn't it be great if I could avoid all that? If I could prepare myself for Aiden's death?  Save up enough money to NOT have to move to that crappy apartment on Soranno ave?  The more I though about it, though, the more I realized that I really didn't want to do any of that.  Nothing that I could have said then, or could say now, makes Aiden's death any easier or more fair or less traumatic.  Nothing was going to make that be all better.  And I know I wouldn't want to have changed how I treated him, like he was different from the other kids, or more fragile or (god forbid) try to distance myself from him so it wouldn't hurt as badly.  As for the mistakes that I've made in my life, it's really hard to sit back now and wish that I hadn't done them.  If I hadn't settled and dated someone that I knew wasn't right for me for so long, I wouldn't have realized what's really important to me in a relationship.  Hell, what's really important in life!  Struggling with finances is how I learned how to be more responsible with money.  Living by myself in a crappy apartment taught me how to be independent and how to throw myself into what I'm passionate about.  Moving to Monterey (even though I totally couldn't afford it) forced me out of my comfort zone.  I had to go be social, even when that was kinda scary, because I needed to make friends.  I had to ask for help when I knew I really needed it, and accept it graciously.  Living with Carina and Lesley taught me how to be a better roommate (something I'm sure my husband is appreciating).  If I had prevented myself from screwing up, would I still be here?  Would I know what I do? Would I be the same person?  I really don't know, and that's far scarier than living off ramen for a few months.  I like where I am; I like who I am.  Ok, so obviously I can't tell myself any specific advice, because there's no way I'd risk not being here, now, but what about more general advice?  I thought maybe I could just tell myself not to worry, because it'll all be ok in the end.  The thing is though, I was always mostly sure that it would, so then I'd just be telling myself something that I already knew, which seems like a waste of time travel.  Even if could remove that last lingering "what if?" doubt, I don't think I'd want to.  Doing things that make you nervous and scared is part of becoming an adult.  The only people out there who are completely sure that it'll be ok are the 5 year olds playing in the mud.  What I finally came up with, what I do wish I had done more is to just try harder.  Not even at anything specific, just in general.  Try to be a better employee.  Try to keep my frogs healthier.  Try to write more often.  I think the extra struggle that I'd give myself would have helped me out a lot.  When I was living in Pacific Grove I was a waitress and an amateur herpetologist.  Not huge claims to fame, I know, but that's who I was.  It's what I spent most of my days on (when I wasn't out running around Big Sur with the boy).  Moving here, both of those ended, and I realized that I didn't have a whole lot else going on.  I don't mean to say that I'm less of a person, or anything like that, but I didn't realize just how much my personal identity was tied with what I do, and not having anything to do was really hard.  It would've been easier if I was better at doing things that I'm not good at.  It all seems so silly and common sense!  I like writing, so why not write more blogs?  I like being outside, so why not go for more walks during the day?  I like science, so why not read more books?  Somehow that never really occurred to me, so I'd sit at home, bored and getting depressed, because I had "nothing to do," which is just such bull!  I have plenty to do!  I just need to go out and actually do it!  I'm not sure how much sense any of this is making, it seems awfully rambly to me, but eh.  At least I wrote something?  Besides, it's easy to get distracted when Futurama is on and the baby keeps kicking me.  

Car alarms, cookies, and too many dirty dishes.

There's one on every street.  You're sitting back, enjoying a nice quiet afternoon (although to be honest, I was more sitting back, bored out of my skull and starting to get sleepy from it) when you hear the honking.  It goes on, but only for a couple mins.  You figure "hey, we've all accidently set off a car alarm before, no big deal!"  Until 5 mins later, when it goes off again.  Maybe it's someone's kids setting it off?  That might excuse it, but shouldn't an adult have rectified the situation the first time?  Again, no more than a couple minutes goes by before it's off, and again, it goes back on again.  Seriously?  By now you're really wondering, what on earth is going on?  How do you accidently set off the alarm so many times?  And by now, shouldn't you be faster at turning it off?  Sadly, there are no answers.  Eventually, the beeping will stop, and all will be quiet once more.

Although that wasn't nearly as bad as the guy who let his motorcycle run for about 15 mins at 6 this morning, before finally driving away.  Of course, this time we all know who it was.  Yup, it was the cop who lives across the street and down 2 houses.  One would think he'd be a little more considerate of noise and whatnot, but nope.  Ugh.

I went to make cookies today (peanut butter blossoms, I made some last week with a new recipe and they were really, really good, and I had some leftover kisses, so I figured I might as well make them again!), but there was a sink full of dirty dishes.  Man!  I didn't want to do chores!  I just wanted some yummy goodness!  It seems like that always happens too.  Maybe I ought to be more on top of actually putting dishes in the dishwasher.  And of course, I couldn't fit all the dishes in there.  So there's still a half sink full.  Well, ok, now there's a full sink full again, but that's including cookie mess.  Somehow with this recipe I manage to use two different 1/2 cup measuring cups (that sounds really redundant....), a two cup pyrex dealie, all three different sized teaspoons, and another spoon for scooping out flour.  Not to mention the mixing bowl and the blade on the mixer and the pans and the dish I use to set the unwrapped kisses.

Awesome cookies make it all worth it though.

My husband is crazy

Ha, I just realized that my last two posts were about music.  What can I say, music makes me have feelings and thoughts and if facebook and social networks have taught me anything, it's that everyone must know my thoughts and feelings because I am fascinating!

Anywho.  As you probably know, I am married to a guy who thinks that running for hours and hours is fun.  Weird, I know.  This makes him do things like sign up for marathons, even when he hasn't trained for one, and the longest he's ran in months was 'only' a half marathon.  What you may not know is that in an attempt to be a supportive wife, I try to go with him to his races, even though I'll only see him for a few minutes at the start (sometimes, sometimes the start line is somewhere else and I don't actually go with him on the shuttle, I wait with the car at the finish line), and again at the finish line, which is always seriously anticlimactic.  Some people run through the finish with their arms triumphantly raised, shouting and cheering and just so clearly proud of themselves.  Some go through in obvious pain and you can see the relief they're feeling that it's finally over, but you can also tell how proud they are that they pushed through the pain and finished.  I'm always more impressed with those people.  My husband, though?  He just jogs through, nods at me, I point to where the exit is, then meet him there with his bag and water.  Then we wander around a bit so he can cool off and stretch.  "How was it?  You feeling ok?"  "Yeah, it was fine, you want to drive home though?  My hip is sore."  That's usually about it.  Because he didn't train for this one, he was definitely in rougher shape than normal, but even then, he was just concerned about getting his finishers shirt and medal (what's the point of running if you don't get the medal?) and getting away from the crowd (they had about 33,000 runners at today's race, plus all the support staff, friends and family, vendors, cops, etc).  The thing is though, marathons take several hours.  Even the really fast runners still take at least 2 and a half.  And it's hot here.  So they start early.  Really early.  We had to be at the parking lot by 3, so he could get on the shuttle, for the race that started at 5.  That means we got to get up at 2am.  At least I get to sleep in the car for a bit after he leaves, but still.  Car sleep is not the same as real sleep.  Clearly, I love the guy if I'm willing to get up at 2, drive for an hour to drop him off, then try to sleep in a car, all so I can watch him jog across an arbitrary line so he can get a cheap medal.

I'm gonna go take a nap.  He's already pretty unconscious.