joie

In the spirit of full disclosure

I have to be honest. We did not "camp" with the baby this year. We did join in the family camp-out, but only for two days. It was easy. handfuls of aunties to hold Gabriel all day while he stared up in wonderment at the canopy of trees and mommy and daddy went on a hike. Everyone was happy.

Until the drive home.

A deer ran out in front of our car right at dusk, so it was a little hard to see. But, I was driving slow (much to the annoyance of the line of cars behind me, who can NOW thank me) and thinking quick and was able to stop in time. Very suddenly. Gabriel started crying and he wouldn't stop even as we drove into the next town. I made Dan get out of his seatbelt and FIND THE BINKY wherever it fell. When he found it he said, "Um, I think I figured out why he won't stop crying..." and he held up the binky for me to observe. It was COVERED in sticky baby poo. So was the baby. So was the carseat. Oh, fun! So, I guess that deer really scared Gabe. How much, you ask? (you knew this was coming....) Apparently, it scared the SHIT out of him!

"I am done, can we just go home now?"

Photo Friday: Camping Out

Dexter, always the optimist,  loves the idea of a weekend in the woods: All the critters to harrass, all the bushes to sniff and mark, marshmallows and weiners falling from above all over the place. The potential for fun is HUGE. But after several days of being tied up, avoiding fires (his greatest fear), having to be on alert ALL THE TIME and chancy weather, he is not the world's greatest fan.

Summer is for Camping

Over at Crazy Hip Blog Mamas everybody is talking about camping. As the daughter of an Eagle Scout and fourth generation Oregonian, camping is in my blood. Back yard camping, snow camping, car camping, back packing. Since I couldn't pick one favorite story, I will make this a camping trilogy. It also helps illustrate the way my life has evolved over the years.
Part One: circa 1990
In order to pass Professor Blanchard's infamous and hard to get into Wilderness Survival Class at the University of Oregon, you had to prove your map and compass skills, tie a pretty bowline knot, know the ten essentials and actually survive a weekend in the wilderness. My small group got our class fee's worth. The late spring snowfall made the trail hard to see, so we got a little lost and had to trek off trail for miles. My feet were wet and cold and I lost feeling in them a long time before I got to stop using them. That was really a blessing because before that they really hurt. What really sucked was not getting any feeling back in my big toe until the following October. And not getting all the feeling back until just a couple years ago. When we finally reached our destination, as stated in the wilderness survival guide, I got to put my feet on the warm (and nicely firm) belly of the hunky leader of the group to try and warm them back up. That night, after the tents were all up, we ate our re-hydrated food and we all shit in the plastic bags we brought to carry out our waste (fun, fun!) we were finally able to enjoy the spot. It was a high plateau with a panoramic view. The moon was full and the sky (after recently dumping its contents) was clear. Out there, so far from any lights the stars were so bright, you could see every constellation. All of it reflected off the virgin snow let off the most amazing glow that would be impossible to experience anywhere near civilization. Frostbite was totally a fair price to pay for this.
Part Two: circa 1996
My two best college girlfriends and I had an annual tradition (it lasted two years) of going on a girls' weekend together. This year it was back to a beloved spot from college, Cougar Hot Springs. I don't remember much about the weekend, except that it was HOT and we were completely unaware that this was the weekend the Further Festival was in this part of the country. As we drove into the campground, we were shocked by how crowded it was. The road in was lined with dazed Deadheads, in mourning, asking for big miracles. Finally someone approached our car. He was so thirsty he was willing to trade almost anything for a cold beer out of our cooler. Which is how we learned what was happening and acquired some pot. There was only one campsite left, which wasn't really a campsite, but an empty patch of beach, covered in river rocks with enough room to pitch a tent. But it was okay, we still had most of our beer and a very fair trade-in for the rest. I remember chatting with a remarkable little girl in the springs who was wearing fairy wings and going around granting wishes to people. She was such an adorable little free spirit!I also remember being in the tent with my two friends, uptight prudes in our hearts, each and every one of us, looking out and noticing the amazing and beautiful full moon (so many of my stories involve full moons) and spontaneously deciding it was necessary to remove all our clothing and dance to the light of that moon. While we were outside enjoying this magical moment, we noticed that the river rocks were COVERED in millions, or at least thousands, of very tiny frogs. They were EVERYWHERE we stepped. It was an amazing, unforgettable experience. In a few moments, we heard cheering and applause. Turns out, our little patch of beach was in the center of dozens of campsites, each one with a view of the lake and three naked dancers. We were immediately thrust back into self-conscious prude mode and ran back into the tent like three Eves banished from paradise.
Part Three: circa 2004
The scene is the annual family fourth of July car camping trip. We're staying in one of those crowded state campgrounds that make you feel like the Joads in a resettlement camp. I always feel like an anthropologist observing why people like to play refugee for fun when we go on those weekends. Dan and I are trying desperately to make a baby as efficiently as possible (do you hear the universe laughing right now?) I know I am ovulating after the positive ovulation test I got in a stall in the camp bathroom. As everyone knows, sperm populations are highest first thing in the morning, so we are trying to take advantage of a little morning wood in the woods, if you know what I mean. In a tent. made out of thinner-than-paper nylon and mesh. With every member of my family in one of these contraptions within feet of us on all sides.  And two of my uncles, early risers, having a conversation over the very tent we are using. Ah, getting back to nature...

The best laid plans....

Wow, has it been seven weeks already?!?! The shortest of my life. And most exhausting. And most full of joy. I had always heard they grow so fast, but why didn't anyone tell me...They grow SOO FAST!! My boy is pretty mellow and happy...except for the time at three weeks of age that mommy accidenty punched him in the face putting him in the carseat (I am so, SO sorry, little guy!) mental note taken: Those buckles are kind of slippery...Or when daddy accidentally bonked his head on the door jamb they were walking through, recreating a traumatic memory from his own childhood...but, mainly, very happy and easy going. There is a lot to enjoy.

So, I promised a birth story...Lets see if I can remember, it is so fuzzy by now...I will just warn you, it was long to go through and it is long to tell...

I'll just start at my 39 week appoinment. My midwife drops the bomb on me that in two weeks she is going on a European vacation (which had NEVER come up before) and we needed to think about/start talking about what we wanted to do. I was showing good signs of progress as far as effacing and dialating, so neither of us really thought it would be an issue. The decision I was asked to make was either induce and deliver with her, whom I had hand-picked to help me have my dream birth using HypnoBirthing or wait for labor to happen on its own and deliver with whomever was on call that day.

Fast forward. The day after mother's day. I am 40 weeks and 5 days pregnant. She is 5 days away from flying accross two continents and one ocean. A decision MUST be made. By me. And I was crazy, SOOO done being pregnant and it was a little mini heat wave. I was 100% effaced, 3cm dialated and she promised a gentle inducement, using the least amount of intervention needed. I decided to go ahead with it. This is where I wish I had hired a doula. Someone to help me think of all the possible ramifications. Someone to help my brain along while all my blood was feeding the placenta.

So, I went in at 9pm on a Tuesday night, they stuck me on a monitor and placed 1/4 of a misoprostol tablet where the sun has yet to shine (or should I say son...). I had to "sleep" all night with the monitor strapped to my ginormous belly. It was not fun. Or restful. This was the first bullet point on my birth plan out the window.

About 5 am, contractions started. They seemed uncomfortable at the time, and were enough to make me throw up the orange juice and crackers I had for breakfast (the next of many birth plan big ideas I had to let go of was eating all the snacks I packed) but really, I had no idea what I was in for. They were not developing a regular pattern, though, so my midwife said if it wasn't kicked in by noon, she would come and break my water to help things along. We walked the halls over and over, rocked on the birth ball and walked some more. Mid morning I used the breast pump. I got about a teaspoon of colostrum, which I was unbelievably proud of and it got my contractions to make a nice little regular pattern on the monitor (by now they were only checking intermittently). I only got to enjoy this for a few minutes, because she came in to break the water as promised. Here is another point where I wish I had thought things through more carefully.

Once my water was broken, all hell did along with it. The contractions really kicked in, strong and continuous. I was not getting any breaks between to speak of. It was just one multi-peaked contraction on top of another. There was NO MORE hall walking after that. I could barely stand up again . It was hard, but I felt good about it, because I thought I must be making good progress and it seemed manageable with Dan's wonderful support and using the techniques I had learned. I used the tub, realized I didn't like the jacuzzi as much as I thought I would, but loved the regular tub. Next time, I'm looking into water birth. I really have no sense of time, but I think it was late afternoon/evening by now and I felt really light-headed and weak. Considering I had not eaten or taken any fluids all day and threw up first thing in the morning, I was worried I was dehydrated and low blood sugar. I asked for an IV. The nurse didn't want to give me one, but for the only time through the whole labor, I got assertive and said I really wanted it. More changes to the birth plan. I felt like it helped. Maybe it was only a placebo, but it worked. I remember being checked a lot. All along, the baby's heartrate was excellent. He was doing great, but I wasn't dialating much, and he wasn't coming down at all.

Now, it was getting dark, so maybe, seven o'clock? eight? and the nurse who taught our HypnoBirthing class came on. She was WONDERFUL. reminded me of things I wasn't thinking of, rubbed in all the right places, applied counterpressure to my back. Funny thing is, I found out later I was having "back labor" because Gabriel was sunny side up, but actually that is not where it hurt. It hurt A LOT in my cervical area, right where the action was. I thought for SURE this was because I was finally dialating. It was so disappointing to find out that after being in this place for 24 hours or so, I still was only 5cm. That evening seemed to go by so fast. I guess because I was just very focused and in my own little universe of concentration. One special little feature of all this was that I had been unable to pee all day. I wanted to. I tried over and over, but nothing would come. The nurse catheterized me and out came a VERY LARGE amount of pee. I wish I could remember how much. But, she was kind of amazed. My bladder is still not the same.

Finally, about 11pm when I still had only progressed to 6cm, they decided to test the strength of my contractions. They stuck a wire thingy into my uterus. The midwife had to do this three times, because she kept getting it into the wrong part of my uterus. Each time was like torture. Somehow, she decided my contractions just weren't doing the job, so she decided to try pitocin. By now, I was exhausted, discouraged and sick of all the pain. I'm proud of how well I handled it and that I managed to labor for so long naturally. But, enough was enough. I asked for the epidural. And it felt SO GOOD!! I slept two WHOLE hours... until it started to wear off, and I started to panic a little. The anesthesiologist I had before who was kind and funny and Dan promised to send a Christmas ham to had left and the new guy seemed a little insensitive. He sat and stared at me cringing and writhing in pain and said "lets just give it 10 more minutes" ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Around the same time, my midwife came in to check my progress. Not only was I still 6cm, but now my cervix was swelling. Not only that, but after the baby had been doing great all along, now there were some dips in his heart rate. She said it was time for a c-section. And at this point, I was just ready for it all to be over. I wanted to meet this reluctant little person already!! And at 4:07am on Thursday, we did.

My recovery was quick (for a c-section) And I feel practically normal, now. The shock of the century was when I came home and weighed myself, I was a few pounds HEAVIER than I was at 41 weeks pregnant!!! 4 days later, after peeing out all those IV bags of fluid, I lost 20 lbs. Since then, I have lost 10 more. 15 more to go and I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight. 30 more to be back to my pre-infertility weight. And I only have about 5 more weeks until my 20 year high school reunion!!!!