Holy $@%! It's already been 1 month...

As the days pass so fast, things happen that I feel should be noted "for the record" (or the baby book), but I completely forget to write them down and then I completely forget what they are. For the sake of keeping a very embarrassing record of Stella's first weeks, I'll at least share the few things that stick out.

Projectile Poop. I am totally not exaggerating. I've heard about the geyser-like pee that baby boys can often deliver, but I've never seen poop shoot out of a human being like this. Erik and I could both win awards for the looks we give each other when it happens. On many occasions, Stella has shot poo straight into the air and has successfully hit one of us with it. Then we look at each other in disbelief, and suddenly...we hear the noise again...and we barely move in time to watch it go flying by. This kid has quite the aim. Our friends witnessed the same thing the other day but with her projectile spit-up. No kidding, folks - 2 inches into the air! We change clothes a lot around here...

I hear two descriptions the most when people talk about life with a new born. Either they describe it as a "cake walk" because newborns sleep so much, or it's "very challenging" because newborns don't sleep at night. But I think many would agree that it's probably a strong combination of both.

Stella has passed that first-two-week period where all she did was sleep and I was literally waking her up every 2-3 hours to eat, even all night. But then, as babies do after two weeks, she started to wake up much more, and that's when the guessing game really began. Before, not sleeping and breastfeeding were the biggest challenges. But blissed-out hormones somehow carried me through. Those same challenges stuck around, but little things were added to it everyday. For instance, as she started to wake up more, she also cried more about...?? That's the challenge - we never know. We go through the list of things that could possibly be wrong, and when we don't figure it out, we start all over again and pray that something's changed. Is she hungry? Dirty diaper? Gas? Diaper too tight? Does she need a change of scenery? Is something poking her? Is she cold? Too hot? "No" to all of those? OK...well... Is she hungry now...?

Also, as she is now more awake, she really only wants to be close to us, and by "close", I mean "on" us. She likes the warmth of our bodies, she likes hearing/feeling our heartbeats. And really, I'd have it no other way. We ALWAYS hold her with the slight exception of putting her in the "bouncy chair". But she screams anytime we put her down, and she is no longer sleeping well anywhere but right next to me (like touching me). I dare not complain about this precious time in our lives because I know it won't last. But I'm also trying to keep an accurate record of what life is really like right now.

Mainly, it's hard sometimes when, say, you have to pee, or do dishes, or make food, put clothes on, or any of the stuff you once did without thinking about it. So I've learned to do those things in half the time it used to take. I put her in the bouncy seat for a few minutes and brush my teeth and pee in record time, finishing just as she starts to fuss or spit-up. Or I bring the bouncy seat from it's place in the bathroom to it's second home in the kitchen while I rush to throw a sandwich together for Erik, hoping I can finish mine, as well. The real plan was to be able to wear her in a sling for these things, but so far, she won't do the sling for more than 5 minutes. I think that might have to do with our (the parents) learning curve... But I will never give up trying - the sling is truly my ticket to staying productive and being the kind of parent I want to be (one that responds to every cry).

Erik has again proven how amazing he is. He doesn't hesitate to help me at night, waking up at all hours to change diapers and maybe start a load of laundry while he's at it (yes, at like 3am!). He offers to take her in the evening after work so that I can catch a nap. Even though he's working, if he sees that she's sleeping and I am getting some much needed housework done, he'll make lunch for both of us. Erik is an amazing dad. He carries Stella around as she screams out and fusses, singing every song he knows, doing the footwork of our swingdance moves. Sometimes she'll relent, resolving to be quietly alert while staring at the Daddyman, or drifting off to sleep. And sometimes hours of trying to console her just ends in a disappointing hand-off to me for the boob. I only say disappointing because he feels bad when he can't console her. But even though she may have cried all the while, I know she was consoled and conforted on her dad's chest. We may not always know what's wrong, but we'll always listen and try to figure it out, never leaving her alone to deal with it.

When I have her in my arms (and even when I don't), I can't stop gazing at her, studying every detail. Every sound she makes pulls huge emotion out of me. Her funny faces create genuine belly laughs, and her grimaces and screams make tears form in my eyes. She purses her lips together and makes faces that resemble a turtle or little bird, and I think I can't hold back the hardest squeeze I've ever given anyone - just too cute. When we lay in bed awake when most everyone else is sleeping, I sing to her as she nurses, and I smooth her eyebrows to relax her forehead. I adore her feet with my free hand, I savor every breath I can feel her taking as she lays on me, and I smell her sweet baby breath (and it smells so sweet - literally like sweet air).

While the romance between us never stops, sometimes I am a little less "romantic" on the nights where we are up a lot more. I summon the help from my bedside latenight radio show, I play Sudoku on my phone...in fact, I do everything on my phone: check email (though I can't reply because I only have one hand), search for things on the Internet (like is it safe to take stool softeners for 4 weeks straight...?), and now I'm on the search for a book light so that I can read treasured fiction again. After a year of reading only pregnancy and baby books, I am finally ready to lose myself in a novel. My goal is to be excited about waking up 40 times during the night to read vs. being anxious about how little sleep I'm getting and how nuts I feel. I am immersed in a great novel now, something I've missed.

Mostly this time of life has been magical. Honestly, the adjustment has not been as hard as I thought it would be...I'm trying to have perspective - I know much harder days are coming! Sure I'm not back in the saddle, flying around town doing errands like I used to (actually, I haven't left the house at all by myself because her head still flops around in the car seat). And there's a lot more dirt on my floor and dishes in my sink than there has ever been. But I'm learning to be Zen about what I can't control, and to just embrace the new pace, the new list of priorities that top the ever-growing old list (yard work, organizing the garage, painting the house, etc.). Nowadays, I'm lucky to drip salsa on the floor and then be able to actually bend down and clean it up...

But the trade-off is completely worth it. I am happier than I've ever been. Even in my sleep-deprived state, I never fail to realize how fortunate I am to have my family and the opportunities I have. It is the greatest blessing for me to be able to stay at home with my daughter, not having to rush her to daycare in the morning on a routine that is completely not hers. Instead, we enjoy sleepy mornings together and take our time through the day with no other real plans but to clean-up and keep fed. I can't thank Erik enough for helping to make my dreams come true. Together, we raise this little girl without the stress of schedules or commutes, without pumping or bottle feeding, all because we are blessed with the opportunity to do so. I am fortunate, and I cherish every second.

All in a month:

Stop it, Mama...!

Middle of the night...sleepin' with Daddy

She is known for her funny faces...

Freeze...put your hands up!

Hands up!

OK, foot up, too!

"Excellent..."

First pediatrician visit...we didn't like that too much...

Take you drivin' in my car, car...

Big foot comin' at ya!

And big cheeks!

Middle of the night...again :)

"Tummy time on my special quilt made just for me!"

Keep those hands up!

Up!

Keep 'em up!

Amazing Daddy (and he bought ME flowers for being a good mommy... :)

Nappin' while Daddy works

First visit with Great Grandma Fahrenthold!

And today...one month old. Happy Birthday, Beautiful.

Steve

On Saturday, standing in one of my favorite Austin bakery/coffee shops, I received some terrible news that I was not expecting.

Dave, who still works at Quacks after all these years (10+), told me that my beloved ex-boyfriend, Steve, had hung himself in May. Unaware, I was in the middle of telling Dave that the last time I saw Steve was a year ago when I came to Austin to look for a place to live. I called Steve up to see if he wanted to grab a beer and hang out after not having seen him since I moved away from Austin (like 8 years ago). We spent the evening on South Congress, shared some beers at the Continental Club and walked for hours back in the neighborhood in the middle of the night, philosophizing and talking about everything, critiquing recent books and movies, just like we used to do. We talked in low voices that seemed to hang in the heavy night air like a timeless period - as if we had gone back in time to the "good old days".

Except there was a difference: I had never seen him happier than he was that night. Things were going really well for him. He had an amazing apprenticeship doing tattoos and he had finally found a way to express himself after years of searching. He'd traveled, he'd been in and out of school, he'd worked at all the coffee shops, he painted and drew and wrote poetry, but now he knew what he wanted. While I still sensed hints of depression, and while he still referred to being lost and feeling out of sorts, I saw something in his eyes I hadn't seen before: Hope. Security. Confidence.

For the first time in years, I finally had his permanent number in my phone (I always had to call his family to track him down in the past while he was moving around so much). And I told him I would call him when I got back to Austin. Of course, I got pregnant the day I got here and lost my mom a couple months later, but I always intended to call him to have coffee, but "something" always came up. I am painfully learning the lesson that I need to call people when I think of them or I may never again have the chance.

I wanted to see his portfolio. I wanted to hear about the progress he was making. I wanted to catch-up on any drama-filled relationships he was having. I wanted to see his gentle smile and hear his deep and friendly voice. While he was an ex-boyfriend from long ago, he always meant so much to me. I knew I would always care very deeply about him and would always want to stay in touch. He was one of the most passionate people I had ever known, someone I was always proud to say that I knew. I am devastated that I never really told him that as a friend. He was a beautiful person. I can't believe he's gone.

Now I can't escape the flashbacks of our time together, back to the days I spent trying to catch his attention. I'd study in that coffee shop day after day, hoping he'd notice me as more than just a college girl that drinks too much coffee and studies too much (at the same place). I would coolly order my coffee from him (a cortado which I had learned to drink on my recent visit to Spain), and I would absorb the music he was playing and watch him banter with his coworker (Dave) behind the counter. All my friends knew where to find me: I'd be quietly chasing the hottest guy in town. Then one day, I got back to my table with my coffee and noticed it had a heart drawn into the foam. Then I looked up to find him standing there next to me, and he asked in his deep and amazing voice, "Do you want to go for a walk?"

From there, we shared some of the best days of my life. A young and passionate love affair that I will never forget. In our youngness, we discovered so much together and developed small pieces of ourselves that would either stay apart of us forever or vanish. He introduced me to so much that is still such a strong part of me to this day. I will always associate some things that I still love with him and our time together. I wish I could have told him that, too.

Steve, I was late to the game. I'm so sorry I missed you. I should have called. I wish I would have told you how special you are to me. You're one of the most talented people I've ever met. Your art leaves me without words. People are honored to wear your creations on their bodies until they die. Much like when I met you, I never stopped admiring you from afar. Your smile and gentle spirit will never, ever escape me. I will never forget it. I never have. I wish you could have seen the beauty inside of yourself. I hope you've found the peace for which you've been searching. Your beauty still lives on as you do in so many ways. You live on in the hearts of many, and on their bodies, too. And you will never leave my heart.

Video of Steve:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zrhu9ELIyzI

A Guest Book for Steve:
http://www.legacy.com/gb2/default.aspx?bookID=3625079481784

His Art:
http://www.stevegrosskopf.com/tattooalbum/index.html

Stella...and all of Her Admirers

Stella is just over a week old and she has had many visitors since coming home.

Nana (Erik's mom) meets Stella

Aunt Michele

Nana (who is staying with us)

Aunt Lala and Uncle Steve

Uncle Faris


Aunt Ravyn


"Maga" (Francine) and Charles

The Star

Sunbath (to prevent jaundic)

Her admirers...doting parents

Birth Story

First of all, I just want to thank you all for adding to our amazing experience by sending all of your thoughts and well wishes, and for so actively participating in our birth story. Thank you all for being a part of it! I will be making keepsakes out of the posts and emails and saving them in the baby book for Firecracker to read one day.

As you all know, we chose to have a home birth for many reasons, and I still feel that I enjoyed most of the beauty that comes with a home birth. For around 37 hours (actually longer but who's counting), I labored in our home (around 44 hours labor total), free as a bird to roam from room to room, to eat what I wanted, to rest when I could, to shower for as long as the hot water heater could take it. I peeled clothes on and off, I knelt, squatted, laid and bounced wherever a contraction hit me. All be it very slowly...my body was allowed to do the work that it needed to do to bring Firecracker into this world. The contrast with the hospital is often that you are hooked-up to a fetal monitor and not allowed to move around with each contraction or to even eat or drink anything at all! Instead of being hooked up to a monitor or confined to a bed that whole time, I joyfully experienced the beauty, pain and emotion of labor at home and with Erik there for every breath.



While it's still a little unclear what happened, essentially I dialated all the way to 7-8cm (need to dialate to 10 for birth), but then when I was checked next, I had gone back down to 5cm and my cervix had significant swelling (bad news as my midwife put it). The choices were few given that we were exhausted and the contractions were intensifying. Intense contractions are usually a sign that you're close, but in my case, they had been that way for the last 12 hours. It was becoming increasingly hard to eat (and I was throwing up everything I touched), and the midwife's exams revealed that the baby was pretty tired after so many hours of contractions (not good that neither of us were getting calories). So laboring at home much longer was not really an option. Upon hearing the news, Erik and I had a very emotional moment of surrendering to what needed to be done. He bathed me in affection as we cried and he told me I had been strong and it was ok. At the suggestion of my midwife, we labored another 45 minutes at home at many different "stations" she had set up for us to try out different positions. And then after no change, we accepted the next step.

So then it was time to prepare for a "transport" to the hospital. We ran around gathering the things we needed, blowing candles out and preparing the house to be empty for a couple of days. People had shown up that I didn't even know where in the house, and they were just in time! We needed all the support and help we could get and they were amazing. The rest was just like the movies. I had a very painful car ride to the hospital, and for all I knew, Jesus was driving and we were headed for New York City - in other words, I was OUT of it. As I slowly neglected my home birthing pain techniques (to basically meditate through contractions and relax the body), I began to tense up with every contraction, feeling helpless and like there was no mercy. Oh, and did I mention that I had extreme back labor this whole time? I still have bruises and dry patches on my back from begging Erik to pound my back. "MY BACK!", I would yell. Anyway, once we got to the hospital, I seem to remember being wheeled up to labor and delivery on someone's desk chair...? And then I remember being tranpsorted to a wheel chair and rushed off to my room. I'm telling you, it was just like the movies. There really was no emergency at that point (nor had there been for 37 hours), but I guess that's how they react to people in intense pain, and I guess they handle it like that in case there is an emergency (but we had called them in advance and told them the situation - they were expecting us).

Then I was checked into a room, put in a hospital gown and hooked up to a monitor. At this point, my contractions were so intense I thought they were lasting 20 mins at a time. For the first time through the whole labor, I was literally screaming out in pain, not trying to control it anymore. It's funny how much will power one can lose when they know the pain could be relieved at any moment (which was not an option at home). My sisters supported my weight as my knees buckled and they swayed my hips from side to side. Later I learned that the contractions seemed 20 minutes long because they were only 1 min apart - the first regulated contractions I had the whole time (the others were less consistent). With that news, we hoped that I was dialating faster now, but an exam revealed that I was still a mere 5 cm. In my weakness, I was posed with my options. Basically I could have a shot of pitocin, which is a synthetic hormone that makes your contractions come quicker and stronger - generally not something you can handle without an epidural. I could still try to deliver naturally, but most likely the pitocin would make it completely unbearable and I would end up exhausted and with a C-section. OR, I could take the most likely route to a vaginal birth: have a shot of pitocin, have an epidural to deal with the expressed dialation, and then deliver vaginally.



I did the latter. I was administered an epidural after about an hour (it only worked on half my body...), and then the pitocin. The lack of food and all the drugs made me sick to my stomach. I dry-heaved into mauve plastic bedpans as I shook violently from the exhaustion. But I was very happy inside, knowing that Firecracker was close. Michael Jackson's memorial service played silently on the TV above as I braced through the contractions I felt on half of my body. The next exam revealed I had dialated to 6cm, and then to a 7cm. Not long after that exam, I told Erik to go get the nurse because I felt a tremendous amount of pressure "coming down". When she came back and did the exam, she surprised me by saying that it was time to have the baby! So after around 7 hours of labor in the hospital (and around 37 at home), it was finally time to push. I had heard that women with epidurals sometimes had to push for hours, so I half-seriously asked if there was time for a nap first, but the arrival of the delivery table told me no.

Little Stella (full name Cathey Estelle) was born at 10:16pm after just a short time of pushing. The gender was a surprise all the way up to delivery at which point the Dr. held her up in front of me and said something like, "Well, you didn't want me to tell you what it was - do you have a guess?" Our family and friends were soon let into the delivery room even as I was being sewn up (I had an internal laceration, but no episiotomy!), and it was so joyous to share this event with them right away.

Erik never left her side.

The rest of our hospital stay was really lovely with lots of care and support pouring in from family and friends that visited daily, bringing us food and comfort. Before I even transferred to my recovery room, it was filled with flowers, comfortable pillows and bedding for Erik and delicious snacks for in between hospital meals. Thank you Michele, Lara and Ravyn for all of that!








Thank you to all that worried on our behalf and anxiously waited for updates - we didn't mean to stress anyone out :) Our laboring at home was incredibly safe and we were in excellent hands and care the whole time. There is really no explanation as to why my cervix got "hung up", so I feel we did what we had to and I really loved every minute of our experience. It's almost like we had the best of both worlds.

Now we are enjoying getting to know our little girl at home. She has a very sweet disposition and is nothing but precious all day and night. I have never been filled with so much joy. Now I understand the love of a parent - an emotion so strong it brings tears to your eyes for no reason at all. With every little wince of pain she has, my heart breaks in two, and with every little happy noise, my heart breaks in two. We just adore her and feel incredibly fortunate to have her and to have each other.

Thanks again for the love and support. I loved hearing the updates through labor that our friends and family on the list were sending love and supportive messages the whole time! It really makes a difference to have that kind of support.

We love you all and can't wait for you to meet her!

In Labor...

...since 3:30am.

Love you all :)

Overdue

So I am officially overdue. Aside from one day when she wasn't so sure, my midwife always said she thought I'd see my due date. And sure enough, it came and went.

Not only did I not anticipate that I'd go into labor today, but I barely thought about it. Only a couple of times did Erik and I mention it to each other (mainly in the form of, "Happy Due Date!"). I did mention it to one stranger in a restaurant when her daughter commented that I was wearing a dress and had a big baby "in there". When her mom said her daughter's comments were sometimes embarrassing when she was wrong, I assured her that she was right this time and that the baby was "big" because it is due today. I should have known that would get a "WOW!" - didn't even cross my mind that it would shock her. Maybe it should shock me more...? Somehow I am calmer than what's usually expected...? Nervous about labor but not anxious about when...? I don't know. What can I say?

My plan for the 4th of July was to avoid the festive chaos that I usually adore in effort to not get stuck in a crowd or traffic should labor start. We slept in, had brunch, went to the store, saw friends, went out for dinner, had dessert and coffee afterwards. And as we were driving home to turn in and settle for the night, we saw some fireworks in the sky that prompted my man's suggestion, "Let's just drive around a little and find some to watch from the car." "Totally", I agreed. We stop home, pee and fill a big plastic cup with decaf iced tea. Instead of just finding "some fireworks", we drive toward downtown just to see if we can see them from the upper deck of the freeway. We can't, so we drive closer and closer to the big downtown display until suddenly we see them bursting between skyscrapers, and we quickly exit the freeway to find a side street on which to turn and hideout and watch them. Little did we know it was a vein straight to the fireworks with a completely-stopped line of traffic sitting directly under the colorful explosions. We excitedly rolled down our windows to hear the repeated boom, and happily sat in standstill traffic as we watched the fireworks closer than we had seen them in years. After sitting at the same light and watching it change probably 35 times, the grand finale happened, and we quickly flipped a bitch and headed back to the freeway with no problem at all. We laughed at having spent a day purposefully avoiding downtown and traffic just to end up in exactly that.

Though we went to bed hours ago now, I am still up with many contractions and an insanely active baby. Given that my two guesses have always been June 28 or July 5, I REALLY just want to sleep right now and be prepared for what may come. But no, Firecracker is apparently like its mother and loooooves to stay up late and looooves the 4th of July too much to go to sleep now. So here we are. July 5th.