It's been awhile

Due to limitations beyond my control I mainly have to update this blog via phone, so we'll see how often I update from now. The Dude is growing quickly. He's saying mama, dada, a ball, apple, Angie, suzzy, and "In Dogs!". And the dogs actually listen to him when he calls them in! He already has more respect from them than me and John do. :)

The Dude is also a dancing fool. I need to upload some videos to YouTube and then I can post the dancing fool videos for you. He had also started running although that's more due to our slanted hallway. You can see the look on his face when he starts gaining momentum. Luckily the carpet stops him. But damn, it's the cutest thing ever.

The last thing that blew my mind is that somewhere, somehow the kid figured out that he needed to turn around and slide backwards, feet first in order to go down stairs, get off the bed and get off the couch. I'm super glad he learned it (its a lot better than a faceplant on the floor- yes, it's happened) but I don't know who taught him. None of the grandparents claimed it.

I guess that's it for now. I'm going to get in the habit of updating this more often. I've never fille out The Dude's baby books so this is pretty much it for the first 15 months of his life.

Jude loves Yo Gabba Gabba

The world stops when this show comes on. And my heart melts when he starts dancing.

I call this one- Jude is bowled over by Yo Gabba Gabba

Mentally Preparing...

The day after The Dude turns 14 months old, Stem and I are taking a week-long vacation to Las Vegas. I am super stoked about the trip, but I am so nervous about leaving The Dude here. He'll be rotating with the grandparents, so he'll be in good hands- so I guess I'm more nervous about how Stem and I will be without The Dude for 8 nights. That's a long time. We've done weekend trips (one with both of us, and one for my company retreat), and on both trips, we were dying by the second day. I really just don't want the trip to be miserable because I'm missing the little one.

Seriously, 7 days without this face:

He put his sock on his head, and he thought it was hilarious.

The rest of the last week in pictures:

Taking a bath at Grandma E's

I had fun with his hair. He peed on the floor right before he got in the tub. His (all girl) cousins thought it was hilarious. :)

The baddest accessory a badass little dude could have.

 The Dude made friends with the cops at Panera last night:

Dropping The Dude off at El Grande Papa's (aka Cozy D's) house last week

Birthing The Dude- Day 3!

So, my whole plan went to shit. I obviously didn't write out Jude's birth story on his birthday. But anyway, here's day 3.

To be honest, the night between day 2 and 3 (wednesday night) was frightening. It was by far the toughest time in the hospital. They had me laying on my left side, because that's where Jude's heart rate was the best. There were a few times that they let me flip to my right side. It was sweet relief each time, but each time it was short lived. Within a couple of minutes of switching sides, the machines would start beeping, and the nurses would come rushing in. Jude's heart rate dropped every single time on my right side. And it was just too much stress for him, so we stopped trying. Once we realized that I was stuck on my left side, I tried to get some sleep. Unfortunately, that was also interrupted. I started to get a fever and they said that my body was trying to make it uncomfortable in there so that Jude would want to come out. (They were kidding, right?) So I was fed more medicine. Then they had to start pumping fluids into me because it had been more than 24 hours since my water broke and they were worried about infection. By this point in time, I was a science experiment gone bad. I was on my 4th or 5th bag of pitocin. I was on my third doctor. I was on my 4th nurse (although the ones that had to leave did call in to check on me to see if I had had him yet- they were very sweet there).

Finally, at 6 am, I was at 8 cm. EIGHT! I was so excited. Family members started coming back to visit. (Only now on reflection, do I remember that John was the only one that stayed Wednesday night, and he slept through all the craziness. I think my family decided that I was never going to have the baby and was just going to live in the hospital, therefore, quick visits in the morning were all that were needed.) Needless to say, the adrenaline had dwindled for everyone. But it picked back up when I told them how close we were to meeting Jude. And three hours later...nothing happened.

I was still 8 cm. 8. Just 8. They gave me a deadline. I had one hour to progress. If I was still at 8 cm at 10 am, then I was getting a C-Section. I was so pissed. I had not gone through all this work and all this time to have a C-Section at 10 am on Thursday. No. I was pissed, but I was also so tired I just didn't really care anymore (except I was more pissed that if I had a C-Section I couldn't eat solid food for another 24 hours. No. Way.)

**Interjection in the story- I can't remember when exactly this happened. I know it was towards the end of my labor. The doctor was very adamant about doing a C-Section. The nurse knew I didn't want one and told the doctor to give her some time. I think this is the nurse that was with my overnight on Wednesday night because she wasn't there when I delivered, but she was there when I was 8 cm. Anyway- that nurse saved my birth story. She single-handedly bought me the time that I needed. If not for her, I would have had a C-Section. So, super important interjection in the story, but I just can't remember where exactly it goes. (Which is why you don't wait for a year to write down your birth story) I also know that nurse said she had done that with several other patients. It was her specialty.**

Somehow, it happened again. When they came to check me at my deadline, she said the most beautiful words I had ever heard. "You're ready to push!" I honestly never thought those words were going to come out of a nurses mouth. I had my family come in to give a quick good luck, and we got set up. I was already in position when there was a knock at the door. My sister had just shown up and wanted to come in and see me really quick before we started. I said no. Which is really my only regret out of the whole birthing experience. I should have let her come in and say hi before I started pushing. I still feel bad about that.

As I was starting to push, I said to the nurse (in between the pushes) that I couldn't believe we were at that point and that "at this time yesterday, I thought for sure I'd be having a C-Section." She replied with "we're not out of the woods yet." To that, my exact thought was fuck that. When they told me I could, I pushed as hard as I could. I could feel everything on my right side, but nothing on my left. It was a good balance to keep me in check and letting me feel when to push but not being in insane pain.

They told me that at some point they may have to lay me back in order to get his shoulders out, which ended up happening. Because he is an exact replica of his dad, who has really broad shoulders. After 30 minutes of pushing, my little cone-headed bean was out. It was incredibly surreal. I didn't cry. I think I was in shock that he was finally here. I felt like my labor would never end, and after 30 minutes, it was done. I still had to get put back together but it was done. I could see my son. He was puffy from fluids and, seriously, had the biggest conehead I had ever seen, but he was beautiful.

I was super jealous that John got to see Jude while I was getting stitched up. Luckily, the doctor had him get the camera right before he came out, so he got pictures of Jude fresh from the womb (that sounds so gross) and was taking pictures of him being weighed. He was a good photographer! I was happy that my nurse came in with TWO diet cokes for me. Sweetest lady EVER.

It took almost an hour for everything to be settled back before we could have visitors. When our families finally came in, they were most definitely more emotional than me. I think they all cried. It was pretty amazing. That, and the fact that I was on my 4th diet coke in an hour. The worst part was when the families dispersed and the nurses took Jude to the nursery to get all clean. I didn't want to let him out of my sight, but quite frankly I was so exhausted, that I didn't really care.

I could write a whole book on the hospital stay, but I'll leave it at this for now. Hell, it literally took me over a month to write this one post. (I'm not a very good blogger. I need a laptop.)

Fresh out the oven

Once the fluids calmed down

My glowworm

13 months old

What a cute stinkin' kid

The face of a stinkerbutt

Birthing The Dude- Day 2

But of course I didn't have time yesterday to do Day 2, so I'll just segment the writings today, or write Day 3 tomorrow. We'll see how the day goes. :)

Back to the story...
Around 5 or 6 am my dad called, panicking, worried that he missed something. Nothing had changed (still 1, maybe 2 cm at this point). I told him not to panic and to take his time getting back up to the hospital. Less than an hour later, he walked in the door. By this time, I think I had already started my second bag of pitocin. They were also worried because my contractions were frequent (as in, they never stopped. 20 seconds in between the end and beginning of each one, at the most) but they weren't hitting the intensity they wanted. They gave me more stadol and I passed out again. When I woke up, I noticed that both times I had been given the stadol, my contractions slowed down and weakened. Considering how slowly I was progressing, I didn't like seeing that. I decided not to take any more stadol, and only go for the epidural if I really needed it.

Somewhere during this day, I think early in the morning, they broke my water. It hurt like hell.

In the early afternoon, the doctor told me that if I didn't progress in the next hour, that I was going to have to get a C-section. They had already turned up the pitocin to near max level in order to try to get my contractions going. The stadol set it back, the fact that my body just wasn't ready to be in labor set it back. But they only had 2 more strength levels to go before they hit the max level. (You can't go over a certain level, because otherwise, once you deliver, the pitocin won't have any effect and the contractions won't continue and they need to in order to shrink your uterus back down- I think that's how she explained it.)

**This will be jumping ahead, but it doesn't really fit anywhere else. At some point, The Dude went into a bit of distress. They practically stopped the pitocin to calm down my uterus for a bit. Since they knocked it down so much, they were able to slowly build back up and that solved the pitocin problem mentioned above.**

Anyway, at the news that I was probably going to get a C-section (Let's be real, in 17 hours, I had progressed ONE cm. It was going nowhere.) I was devastated. I didn't want a C-section. For one, I wanted to be able to eat, 2, I didn't want to be completely numb and have to wear the compression boots, 3, I wanted to eat real food-not jello for 24 hours, 4, if you have a C-section, you are pretty much always going to have a C-section, 5, I have a tattoo on my lower stomach and hip, and a C-section scar would have totally ruined it. The last reason sounds silly, but I love that tattoo and yeah, I didn't want to have a scar going through it. I was so bummed at this point. I knew that when they checked me at the end of that hour, I was going nowhere.

Luckily, when they checked, I was at 3 cm. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to keep me from having a C-section. Pretty soon after that, the rest of my water broke. I was miserable at this point because Jude would only let me lay on my left side. His heart rate dropped if I tried to lay any other way. The contractions were still not too intense, but were so frequent. They literally didn't stop. I was having one, continuous contraction. At hour 19 after being induced, I finally asked for the epidural.

This was a big step for me. I am so claustrophobic and I have Restless Leg Syndrome and I absolutely freak out if I am held down or can't move a part of my body. Knowing that with the epidural I wouldn't be able to move my legs ALMOST kept me from getting it. If the labor hadn't been so drawn out, I might have endured. But I wanted the damn meds. It was a great feeling to be able to relax. It was also great because I couldn't feel the pain in my left side from having to lay on the same limbs for hours.

At 6:24 pm (thank you facebook status updates), I was in hour 21 after being induced, on my 3rd bag of pitocin and still had my trusty oxygen mask on. A couple of hours after this, John and his mom were in the room. I fell asleep with a neck pillow on (you can see it in the post before this one) and with the full-on oxygen mask. When I woke up, I forgot that the epidural had been administered. I freaked the eff out. I couldn't move my legs, I had a huge plastic mask on my nose and I had that damn pillow wrapped around my neck. I threw the neck pillow across the room, pulled the oxygen mask off and started crying. I begged John to come move my legs. He sat at the end of the bed and moved them in a bicycle motion for me. After about 10 minutes, I finally calmed down. I also felt kind of crazy. But can you blame me? No food or water for a day and a half, I couldn't get up out of bed (I think I got up twice to use the restroom but once I got the epidural, I was bed-ridden) and the labor was going nowhere. The nurses came and talked to me and told me to just let the epidural wear off a bit and I would be able to move a little. Wiggle my toes, etc.

I got a bit luckier (?) than that. Since I was stuck on my left side, the epidural drained to my left side (yes, gravity pulls it down). This left my right leg able to swing freely. It was the greatest feeling in the world. I could only barely feel the contractions, AND I could move one of my legs. This also left my left side completely numb, but I didn't care.

Finally around 10:30 pm, I hit 4 cm. The nurses and doctor all got excited and said labor usually progresses very quickly from that point. I got kind of excited but was beyond getting my hopes up. When I was induced at 8-9pm on November 30th, all the medical staff said "Oh! You're going to have a December 1st baby." John's mom (jokingly- at least, I hope) said, "Can you hold it for one more day, so he can share a birthday with his dad?" When she said that at the beginning, I just looked at her and laughed. "Absolutely not." Well, when I hit just 4 cm at 10:30, I knew that The Dude was going to be sharing a birthday with his daddy. Happy birthday sweetheart!

So by midnight of Day 2, I was celebrating that fact that I had progressed 3 cm in 28 hours, and that my son and my husband would share a birthday. And, that I had managed to escape a C-section for the moment. That night was pretty restless and scary, but I'll get in to all of that on the Day 3 post (later today?)

Birthing The Dude- Day 1

I've always wanted to put The Dude's birth story in writing. It's a daunting task because it was a long (and I mean long) process. I decided with his birthday approaching, I would write out his birth story and separate it by days. So here's day 1...

Taken 4 days before the start of our story

It was November 30. I was scheduled for a weekly check-up that day at 2:00. I hung out with the girls in the morning (I was on bedrest. That's all I did. Hang out with my girls.) It was rainy out, which meant that we had our normal mud pit out back. I ate lunch around 12 while the girls ran around outside. Right before I was supposed to leave Angie gave me a big hug and I had to change.

Muddy paw print of love

It seemed like a pretty normal morning. Eat, play with dogs, eat again, play with dogs, change clothes. There was one (big) hitch. I had been monitoring my blood pressure all morning. I felt unusually dizzy and my blood pressure readings (I had been on bedrest for 3 weeks due to high blood pressure) were sky high. They started out in the 150s/100s. Then they crept up to the 160s. The last one I took before I left was around 1:30 and it was 174/110. That's beyond dangerously high. I didn't freak out about it because I was on my way to the doctor. I was waiting for John to come pick me up. He of course got held up at work, and I was sitting at home, freaking out and stewing because he was late to pick me up. (Of course! Of all the days to be late to the doctor!) He finally got home and off we went to see my doc. I had my list of blood pressure readings in my hand and was super nervous. I was warned when I was put on bedrest that I could be induced around 36-38 weeks depending on how everything went. I was 37 1/2 weeks along. Something in my gut (The Dude?) told me that the next time I walked through my front door, I would have a baby in my arms.

When we got to the doctor, the nurse took my blood pressure. It was, of course, kind of high, but not scary. I gave her my list of readings from the morning, and as she scanned them she raised her eyebrows, like "oohhh, those are not good." We carried on and I sat waiting for the doctor to come see me. She proceeded like a normal checkup and told me I was 1 cm dialated. I started to gather my things and she said, "So, do you have your packed bags in the car?" Schwhatt? (We lied and said yes.) She told us that she was sending me down to labor and delivery (one floor below my doctor's office) and she was going to have tests run to check my liver levels, etc because she was concerned from the high BP readings I had that morning. She also said that depending on how the tests came out, we could be having a baby that day. As we stood in line at check-out, we had this conversation:

Me: (giddy with the excitement of getting the dude out and having him in my arms) We could have a baby today!

John: We are NOT going to have a baby today.

Me: Can't you even consider the possibility that he could come today? Or that they at least induce me?

John: No. He's not coming yet.

He really didn't think so. As we checked out and the girl gave us the papers to take down to the hospital, she said "oohh, you could have a baby today!" I turned to John and smiled my "I win" smile.

We got to labor and delivery and I had to get the hospital gown on and get the contraction and fetal heartbeat monitors strapped on. We settled in for what we thought would be an hour or so. John called his work cause he originally thought he would be out for no more than 2 hours. (Little did he know, he wouldn't be back at work for 6 days). The nurse came in and took all my blood work. She came back about 30 minutes later and said that she had to get clearance with the doctor, but all the levels came back normal and I would probably be going home. We discussed getting McDonalds on the way home for dinner (by this time it was around 5 and I was oh so hungry). My mouth was already watering at the thought of the quarter pounder I was going to get. We were still waiting, and I heard horror movie screams. Not painful grunts. Screaming at the top of your lungs, Michael Myers is chasing me with a butcher knife, screams. After waiting for an hour, the nurse popped back in. We asked her about the screams and she goes "oh yeah. Natural birth. Not by choice. She was allergic to the meds." Then she delivered the knockout.

My test levels were fine. She was still waiting to get clearance from the doctor (there were virtually no births the week before (Thanksgiving week) but the barometric pressure dropped and my doctor had THIRTEEN patients in labor that day) but instead of sending me home, she said it was about 100 percent certain that I was going to be induced. Turns out, I was handling everything okay, but Jude's heart rate was dropping every time I contracted. Another hour went by, John went home to check on the dogs and get my bags. While he was gone, the doctor finally made her way into my little room. She confirmed that I was getting induced. She checked everything, guesstimated Jude to be 7 pounds and got a nurse to get me admitted.

I was moved to the big labor and delivery room. It was around 7 pm. John's mom came in first. My parents and stepmom were soon to follow. By the way, this whole time, I was only worried about finding Fox on the TV. Glee was on that night (Sectionals!) and I didn't want to miss it. I was left with nothing to do. At 8 pm, right as Glee was coming on, a nurse entered the room. She was going to put the IV in so we could start the pitocin and get labor going. Sounds easy, right? Yeah, by 8:50, after FOUR nurses and EIGHT different points of entry, and getting fired by the IV team, I finally had an IV. And Glee was almost done. By that point, I didn't even want to watch the end. I was so bummed. By this point, everybody was there. I could only have 3 visitors at a time, so the parental units were being very courteous in taking turns going in and out.

I have never seen my dad so nervous. The man was pacing, asking 100 questions. My mom was confident that I would have Jude by 5am. She was induced with my sister around the same time at night, and delivered mere hours later. She was fully confident I would do the same. Around 1 am my dad asked me if I thought he would miss anything if he went home to sleep. I told him no. I hadn't dilated any further past 1 cm and they told me inductions could last anywhere from 12-24 hours. By all means, he had plenty of time to go sleep comfortably for awhile (especially since his wife was on crutches.) He reluctantly went home. My mom and John passed out in the chairs of the room, and we had a relatively quiet night. (Although I was hungry as hell and had never wanted a diet coke so bad in my life.)

10 1/2 hours into labor- no oxygen mask yet, feeling good but  bored

My guests keeping me great company (seriously, how can you sleep? Baby is on the way!)

I technically went past midnight/Day 1, but my stadol made me pass out around 4 or 5, and I'll start tomorrow from when I woke up.


**Post edit: When we were sitting in the testing room, waiting to hear from the doctor, John still did not believe that I would be delivering any time soon. When the nurse initially told us that I was probably going home, he got this shit-eaten grin on his face. When the nurse came back and said we were probably inducing that night, I think I had the biggest shit-eaten grin on my face. I win.

Cute little boy

Seriously. I can't get over this kids adorableness.