We Have Arrived!!

June 27 and it's been 3 weeks since Michael III entered my life. When I wrote my last post, this moment seemed so far away. I could never have imagined how much I love him and how much I've enjoyed taking care of him and watching him grow these past three weeks.

Our Birth Story:
My water broke on Thursday, June 4 at work...what the hell I was doing at work I still wonder. I went to the bathroom and just thought I'd had an accident or something. But the flow just kept coming and no one has to pee that much! So I tentatively hobbled from the bathroom to the office and urgently pulled aside a coworker who has an infant. "I think my water just broke," I told her and described what happened. She confirmed, "your water broke."

Unable to sit at my cubicle leaking amniotic fluid, I ducked into another coworker's office with a towel for cover and got on the phone. I called the Doctor's office where the nurse told me to "get to the hospital" with an urgency I wasn't expecting. Then I called my husband who I fear didn't quite beleive this was happening....and my mom and dad.

With Mike stuck in traffic, two of my coworkers had to take me to the hospital. The ride was uneventful - none of the huffing, puffing and screaming of TV labor. I was all settled at the hospital and 2 hours had passed since my water broke - and no contractions. Strange.

So they gave me medication to induce labor. And...I labored.....for 27 hours. I had 3 shifts of nurses come and go. It's amazing the range of quality in people who have all supposedly recieved the same training. It was really the night nurse who got me through - she was my own personal drug dealer...but with a sympathetic voice that made any guilt I had over taking medication go away. "I can give you a little sleeping medication, just a little something to relieve the pain, take the edge off..." And after hours of deep breathes and clenched fists, I acquiesed. Then the morning came and with it, some progress and the epidural.

I had read that the baby has to be delivered within 24 hours of your water breaking or there's a risk of infection. So at 22 hours, I was a bit panicked! "Get my baby out of there!" I thought desperately. But the doctor eased my fears assuring me that the risk of infection was to me, not the baby. I guess that was a relief? At 24 hours, I begged to be checked once again. Almost 7 centimeters dilated (I had to get to 10 before I could push and it had taken 3 hours to get from 6 to 7) and the baby was at 0 station (he had 4 more levels to go). Unprepared for 9 more hours of labor, I broke down into tears and asked for a c-section. I NEVER thought I'd actually ask for the c-section.

Even the doctor seemed relieved. So the medication stopped and with it, the labor. Reassurance to me that I wasn't going to hit that 10 centimeters on my own. And we all waited for the operating room to be available. I was prepared for the c-section, anxious to meet my baby - Michael or Gabriella - we still didn't know.

I will spare everyone the gory details of the c-section. Suffice it to say that I was terrified and I'm convinced that pressure is actually a code word for pain. But thank god for morphine and epidurals and good doctors because Michael was delivered at 6:10 PM on Friday, June 5, 2009 safe and sound. A little horrified at being forcibly removed from his cacoon I think, but safe and sound nonetheless.

38 Weeks.....Are We There Yet?

As elated as I have been and still am to be pregnant, my level of mental exhaustion has steadily increased since my last post more than a month ago. In this time, my thoughts on pregnancy have slowly shifted from daily positives to a group of daily complaints that I try hard not to express but, they just overcome me. I am over it. I am over the swollen feet (check out my Easy Spirit sneakers!) and legs, the feeling that both have been severely bruised, the sensation that I've been hit between my legs with a baseball bat, the exhaustion, back pain, increasingly red and itchy stretchmarks (see photo #1), and the intensely painful underside of my belly, a photo of which I will spare you. Never mind the 3-6 times I wake up in the middle of the night to heave myself out of bed and pee, the periodic insomnia and a general sense of immobility.

But the positives do still exist. I found a really great church that I imagine our new family attending together....it just feels right. My nesting instinct is in full speed - the baby's room is all set-up and despite my lack of mobility, I managed to put everything together, wash everything else, set it all up and then just look at it with a big smile on my face.

So it's not all bad. But, I think it's safe to say both Mike and I are over being expectant parents and looking forward to being new parents. Hopefully Baby Fuller cooperates with our desires. Just 10 days to go!

Just the Two of Us

Today is Mike and I's first wedding anniversary.  It was a year ago today that most of our loved ones trekked from across the east coast, the islands and even Bolivia, to watch a teary-eyed couple exchange vows (2 hours after they were scheduled to begin) on the stage / alter of the Miami Beach  Botanical Gardens.  It was such a perfect day and I remember that all I wanted was for the day to continue, to remain in that moment as long as I could.  

And now, at the end of our newliwededness, I find myself in awe of our first year as man and wife.  I am 8 months pregnant!  We live in a beautiful apartment in Pompano of all places.  I finally got the bedroom furniture I'd been talking about for our entire year and a half of engagement.  We are both gainfully employed, we live on a budget but are finally NOT broke, we have a lot of fun just sitting in our apartment going back and forth and he still manages to make me laugh, feel beautiful, smart and appreciated each and every day.  It is not your traditional fairytale but definitely my fairy tale.

This weekend, we spent a night at the Hyatt Bonaventure Resort & Spa....a last hurrah if you will, a weekend "away" for just the two of us before we begin the awesome stage ahead.  We slept in a kind size bed with no less than 20 pillows (yes, I know it is hard to believe but Mike and I don't have a king bed!  despite our obvious mass).  We ate out the whole weekend, spent  hours lounging by the pool and yes, I had pancakes!  My husband also treated me to a much needed foot treatment at the Red Door Spa at the hotel, my first spa experience and unfortunately for him, I think I'm addicted.  We came back home and topped off the day with a shopping spree for baby!  I could have bought out the store, it was all just so cute.  Mike didn't give me the chance, he pulled the cart into the check-out and started scanning items before I could scoop everything up.  Probably for the best as despite his best efforts, our tab was definitely higher than expected.

Today, as I reflect on the year we had, I am grateful.  I am happy.  And I am optimistic about our future.  I know this is the first year of many.  

Perspective

Someone emailed this to me...one of the many chains we all get. But it was good timing I think. I have periodic panic attacks about this massive responsibility that is about to come my way (8 and a half weeks to go!). But this defintiely puts things in perspective. Not to say I beleive in all of these things but, it's a reminder that there's no need to go overboard!

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED THE 1930's, 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's!!

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-base paints. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, locks on doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had baseball caps not helmets on our heads. As infants & children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, no booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes. Riding in the back of a pick- up truck on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and no one actually died from this. We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter and bacon. We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar. And, we weren't overweight. WHY? Because we were always outside playing....that's why!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on. No one was able to reach us all day.. And, we were O..K. We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride them down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's and X-boxes. There were no video games, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet and no chat rooms. WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents. We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever. We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls and, although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes. We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them. Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!! The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever. The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all. If YOU are one of them? CONGRATULATIONS!

You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives for our own good. While you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave and lucky their parents were.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?

Working at an organization that works with and for people with intellectual disabilities is an interesting sensation when you are pregnant. When I applied for my initial position at Best Buddies two years ago, I had no personal connection....I was just desperately seeking a job in Miami and thought, Special Events, why not?

In the last two years, I have learned so much about people with intellectual disabilities. I have learned that there is much more to personality than IQ and that although these people may be lower functioning than the "average" person, they may also be higher functioning in another area. They have their talents and things they can contribute to society and perhaps more importantly, conversation. They don't need to be shut down. This is a far cry from my initial thoughts on ret**ted people, a term I now know is nothing less than offensive. And although I am not always as patient with this group as I should be, I do now value them.

But, it is one thing to accept and appreciate something outside of your life and family and quite another to think about it inside those sacred walls. All of my tests have been perfect and I have had a wonderful pregnancy. And knock on wood, it will continue to be so and my baby's delivery will be complication free. But in the past two weeks, I've found myself in many conversations with my coworkers on the lives of two of our other coworkers who have intellectual disabilities. Margaret has down syndrome and Joyce, well I don't know that she has a specific condition, I think she just has a low IQ. Both of them are close to 60 and live with their mothers, who I always imagine to be somewhere near 100.

Mike and I were watching the Final Four last week and every time they zoomed in on a player's parents, I would joke that Mike and I need to start saving now so we can go watch our son play in the Final Four. I have fantasies about all of the vacations we will take across the country and the globe, exposing our baby, child, tween, teen to all that travel has to offer. I've already told Mike that we need to encourage all of our kids to go away to college because my college experience away was just so fantastic! And I've thought about whether it would be more beneficial to play the piano or the guitar. Would we be able to do all of those things, dream those big dreams, if our baby had some sort of "situation?" And what is it like to be 60, 70, 80, 90 and still worrying about whether or not your "child" can take care of herself? The thought is overwhelming.

I really don't have any feeling that my baby will have any type of challenge. He/She will be perfect - healthy, strong, smart, funny even :-) And something tells me that despite challenges, I'd probably be convinced by baby was all of those things anyway. But it does make you pray a little more, watch your diet a little more closely, not push those limits. And I think this whole chain of thought has the potential to make me better at my job...it makes everything a bit more personal. Perhaps even makes me a better advocate for a population I ignored only 2 years ago.

Itchy Belly, Swollen Feet and Sexuality

As I round the home stretch (10 weeks to go!), I find I am working harder and harder towards that inner peace and optimism that seemed to come so naturally only two weeks ago.

It's taken me a while to be able to admit this in cyberspace, but I am the unfortunate victim of what seem to be some pretty serious stretchmarks. They are bright red - like actual wounds....and span the very bottom of my belly (underneath, that part I can't really see) all the way up to the belly bottun which they frame in all it's popped out glory. They are really horrific and no matter how much I lather on the cocoa butter and the baby oil, they are only getting larger. It's sad really, I had really nice skin on my belly....my husband always pointed out how smooth it was.

I used to wear a 7 1/2 shoe....the last pair I bought was a 9....can you believe that?? And, like stretchmarks, I've heard the larger feet don't ever go back to how they were. It's a miracle people have so many kids; with all of these permanent dysfunctions it's hard to imagine feeling sexy again. The worst part of my foot situation is the swelling. I could probably manage an 8 1/2 if the width of my feet didn't double towards the end of each day. I mean, the saying "my feet swelled up like sausages" was never more true. Instead of being flat on the bottom and kind of flat across the top, my feet are literally cylinders from which peep pink Vienna sausages. And kneeling down - forget about it! I tried to look under the bed today and my legs are so swollen that it felt like I might actually burst.

I am also very much on the irritable side. I berated my husband for not doing the laundry or the dishes....as if miraculously he would begin doing something he never does. I got home today and knocked a glass over. The shards still fan around the kitchen because really, I can't bring myself to deal with it. And my patience for other people is waining. Today when I left work, I had 4 bags to lug to the car and, as per usual, no one thought to ask me for help. And usually I ask for help because why make myself suffer because other people are lazy or rude. But today, I just couldn't do it. My feet looked like sausages (as seen through the house slippers I put on to leave work), I was walking at a snail's pace - hobbling really - quite obviously struggling to put one foot in front of the other and my bags kept falling off of my shoulders so I'd have to stop and slowly teeter downward without loosing my balance to pick it up again. It was really pathetic. And although people can comment on how big my belly is and say "awww, baby" 100x, they don't seem to notice (how convenient) when I may need some common courtesy. Really it's a shame. And I just didn't speak to anyone on the way home...I couldn't play nice - I was pissed!

But since this is supposed to be my positive space, I will end on some more positive notes.

My baby is quite the little gymnast. He/She flips and kicks, punches and turns around, plays head, shoulder, knees and toes, knees and toes and then flips around again. It's amazing to watch.

My husband told me yesterday that the impossible has occurred - my belly dwarfs my chest! My whopping triple D's look puny compared to the wonder that is Baby Fuller. I had to laugh at that since I'm sure he NEVER could have imagined calling anything about my breasts small.

I daydream about a slimmer, happier Mr. & Mrs. Fuller frolicking around a park with our baby. I feel like he/she can make us better, make us push ourselves to be the best we can be (not to be cliched). So I hope that we will get in shape, continue our ambitions and be happy and I can see it. I can see it. It is out there in the universe waiting for me.

And the last high note, a check-out person in ghetto a** Pompano Beach.....she asked if I was having a c-section and I said "I hope not." And she said "oh lawd...I had two babies and they had to cut them outta me, I couldn't push them out. They would've stretched my junk all big" - picture a woman in a McDonald's uniform holding her hands in a circle about the size of a watermelon. Mike and I just laughed at the insanity. Then, the next customer is a man and she asks him if he has kids and he does. So she asked if his wife delivered vaginally (at McDonald's!) and he said she did. And the checkout lady makes that face you make when you walk by a stinky dumpster and asks "that didn't make you loose your sexuality for her??" I just had to walk away, I had to take a step back.....your sexuality for her?? What is wrong with people. LOL.

Preggo Update - 7 months and counting....

I am officially 7 months and 5 days pregnant today....only a little under 3 months to go, less than 12 weeks; 79 days to be exact, a mere 1,896 hours! My obsessions with reading and talking about pregnancy, birth and infants have continued.

My most recent read - a book called Baby Matters that discusses attachment parenting. There seems to be a name for everything involving babies. Attachment parenting is the opposite of detached parenting. It is the rejection of theories that reinforce not holding the baby too much because it will "spoil" him. It says the idea that getting the baby out of your room and into the nursury asap is ridiculous. It rebuffs the thought that more crying strengthens babies' lungs and bawlks at the suggestion that any woman would be unable to breastfeed. Attachment parenting says that cow's milk was made for no other living being than baby cows and that the more affection, touch and literal attachment moms can provide to their babies results in more independent and self-confident babies, toddlers, children and adults.

Detachment parenting, on the other hand, leads to insecure children; babies who are left alone before they're ready and left with an emptiness and decreased sense of self as a result. This book claims detached parenting leads to long term life problems and explains everything from heightened rates of ADHD to illnesses like diabetes and cancer and even increased divorce rates and Americans' growing inability to maintain healthy, committed relationships.

In reading this book, I don't know if I agree with all of it. Like the concept of letting your child ween when they're ready (and as a result, nursing a 5 year old) or the thought that babies are absolutely safer in bed with their parents (Mike and I weight close to 500 lbs in a queen bed - lots of potential for a crushed baby). But the rest of it makes a lot of sense. If everytime I fell or stumbled or felt uncomfortable, no one was there to catch me or fix the problem, or they took a while to get to me, I'd be really scared to fall, stumple or reach any point of discomfort. But if my parents were always there, always reinforcing how wonderful and able I was, always catching me when I fell, then I would feel secure that everything will be ok. It makes perfect sense if you put yourself in the shoes (or booties) of an infant.

It does seem almost unnatural to worry about teaching an infant to be independent. They're not suppossed to be independent yet. They need you. In this sense, attachment parenting is a beautiful concept....and very instinctual. My desire to nurture and take care of my growing belly increases each and every day. I assume the same will be true of the actual baby.

So, lessons learned now that I've hit 7 months of pregnancy:

- There's no need to worry. Mothering is instinctual and, with the help of my trusty village, I will find my way.

- Optimism is a pregnant ladies BEST FRIEND. Examples:
1. Swollen ankles are nothing but an opportunity to sit in a recliner with my feet up for 4 hours. 2. That feeling like someone beat me up between my legs (medical term: round ligament pain) is just a sign that my baby is healthy growing and STRONG!
3. The fact that my life revolves around the restroom, sleep, hydration and eating is definitely good training for caring for a newborn.
4. People are just nicer to you when you're pregnant, especially your husband.
5. Getting fat is ok - and it's an excuse for new clothes.
6. Being woken up at 5 AM by hunger pains and a flailling baby is ok. It means you get to eat (something I love) and play with the baby. By playing I mean, when he/she kicks, I push back in that same spot, then he/she pushes back in the same spot and I try to touch it, and it goes on - 30 minutes later I'm still cracking up at it all and I'm confident that Michael/Gabriella knows I'm there.
...I could go on and on...

- I am really blessed with friends and loved ones. People come out of the woodworks for a Baby!

- If I can read THIS MUCH baby material, I can study for my GMAT and go get my MBA. (Random I know, but we find inspiration in the oddest places.)

- 2 baby showers later, it's confirmed, I really love baby things! So far, baby socks are my favorite.

Baby Shower # 2 - Miami, FL

This past Sunday, Mike and I were blessed with baby shower number 2! It was another intimate affair of 10 or so at Perricone's Marketplace Cafe in Brickell, Miami....home of delicious gelatto, canolli's and salmon salad!

It was so fantastic. I really loved it. We got some pretty great baby essentials - stroller and car seat, play center (exersaucer thing), baby spa, diaper genie (no to the stinkies!), adorable socks and gloves and some fabulous gift cards that I look forward to spending. And my girlfriends Kali and Heather made some great games with horrifyingly embarrassing questions like - How many times did Mike and Pamela date before she gave up the goods? What position were they in when baby Fuller was conceived? - these alongside of the traditional - Who do you think will change the first diaper? Who's more likely to cry at the delivery? Further highlights of the shower included a word search where diaper was accompanied by cock ring and prizes like 3XL granny panties and lube! I couldn't have dreamed of planning something so fun! And, to my husband's horror, his parents and sister were there to celebrate with us. I think even they could appreciate the hilarity of it all. And I really enjoyed their answers to How many times we dated before I gave up the goods - Mom - 80, Dad - 100, Adriane - eww! (I can't remember what she wrote, but that's what she said!). Good times had by all.

Kali and Heather did such a great job and the buzz around the office is that my shower was really fun. I was so happy to have one. A part of me (a big part of me) still feels foreign to South Florida so, like my bachlorette party (also planned by two of my fabulous coworkers turned friends - Sarah and Heather and equally as inappropriate - sex toy party!), I was kind of baffled to have a group of people to celebrate with! Silly, I know. Just further evidence of my village I suppose. Thank god for villages.

The Mommy Wars

My most recent pregnancy obsession has been birthing stories.  At almost 7 months, I think it's about time that I get a better idea of what this whole childbirth process is all about...beyond TV labor scenes compressed into 30 minute segments.  I went into the research feeling pretty confident of a few things:

- I wanted to try really, really hard to go without the pain drugs and have a natural birth.

- I'm terrified by the thought of a c-section.

- Episiotomy must be a male doctor's invention....

- And I'm hoping to nurse as soon after the birth as possible.

So, following my trusty pregnancy blog PregTASTIC, I ordered the book Deliver This!  off of eBay.  It's a book that non judgmentally describes all of the birth options from a home birth to a scheduled c-section.   

The book opens discussing the mommy wars - the ongoing battle between breastfeeding and bottles, home schooling vs. public school vs. private schools, stay at home moms vs. working moms, organic vs. non, etc.  The judgement that some moms project onto other moms for choosing an option different from their own.  And according to the author, the root of these judgements is an insecurity that if someone else's choice is different than yours, yours must be wrong.  I really related to this concept.  And I think it transcends into the things all woman judge others on.  Think about why you would call someone a prude, or why you'd call them a whore....because they're doing something different from the decisions you've made about your sexuality.  Or why you'd talk about someone's diet....whether they are on the strictest or such or eating whatever they'd like, it's different from what you're doing and maybe reflects what you and this person look like....so we comment on both extremes.  

So I discuss my new knowledge and reflection with my husband who nods supportively and kind of smirks (because he thinks, probably not inaccurately, that I'm one of the most judgemental people he knows) and pats my hand a little patronizingly and tells me he hopes I can continue reflecting and NOT judging. 

I continue reading and discover a new play called Birth...something like the Vagina Monologues but with birth stories instead of stories from your vagina.  And I listen to one of the testimonials of birthing story by a Birth supporter.  During her home birth, her midwife (or soul bringer as she called her) told her to fight the pain with noise and just yell.  Her young daughter (4 or 5) served as her "doula" cheering her on as she went through the contractions.  She nursed her husband (yes, you read that correctly) in an effort to help her contractions along.  And her midwife had to stick her hand up inside her to help the baby's head out.  Picture it all happening at once.  Mom screaming and pushing while midwife sticks her hand inside her and Dad nurses....you the new big sister looking on.  

It just seemed insane to me!  As natural as birth is, it seems a bit much for a child to process.  And seeing my mom scream and grunt in pain bearing down on a midwifes hand....naked....while my Dad sucks on her breast??  I mean, what could a child make of that.  Of course my next move is to call my husband and talk about how crazy that seemed and ban him from putting his mouth anywhere near my titimilk (our personal phrase for breast milk) during labor or after.  And he laughed at me, followed by a reminder of the judgmental base of the mommy wars.  And told me I should start practicing now.

He humbled me.  

My research on childbirth will probably continue until the moment my labor begins but so far, I've learned a lot.  I'm still pretty much convinced of my initial thoughts.  But I've added a few more:

- If it doesn't go exactly how I want it too, it'll still be ok.

- Alternative options may just provide the relief I'll need while in the throws of labor.

- And birthing options are probably as individual as the children that result from them. 

My Village - Washington, DC

Mis amigas!

Why Lucila, why?   

Presents!!! What mom could live without a boppy pillow.

Belly measuring! 

My last two weeks of pregnancy preparation have been full of reaching out.  As I told my sister-in-law, I think I've been "nesting" in my own way, working to create the village that I know it will take to raise this child.  From my college alumni chapter to my sorority's grad chapter, coworkers and a newly discovered resource, meetup.com, I've been working to surround myself with like-minded people, resources and families.  I've become a fan of tons of mommy written blogs and finally crawled out of my cocoon and began reaching out to my friends again...via phone and email.  

This weekend's activities really brought home to me the importance of that work.  I bit the bullet and in a moment of fiscal irresponsibility (thankfully, these moments are fewer and fewer lately), I bought a plane ticket to Washington, DC last month.  With an almost permanent kool-aid smile, I gallivanted through my old stomping grounds spending Friday at GW, lunch with my DC Best Buddies coworkers, a happy hour (yes, everyone looked at me like I'd lost my mind), Saturday mani/pedi in Alexandria and a surprise baby shower and Sunday breakfast of pancakes with Cicely and the boys!  It couldn't have gone better if I'd scripted it.

There was just so much love and smiles for me, for my belly and for what's inside.  It was a weekend full of good memories and another reminder of how blessed baby Fuller already is to be so loved and anticipated.

And an affirmation for me that I must continue reaching out, extending beyond my comfort zone, pushing myself to be present and participate.  Because Florida is my home and where I'm putting in some roots and watching them grow.