No Sudden Movements!

Thanks to you all for listening to my bitching. I bitch a lot. Whoa to me Business is bad! (name that movie?). Then again, I am a girl. Isn’t it in our job description to bitch? Of course the levels of bitching vary between women. Whilst I’d like to say I am not that bitchy….yeah that is just more Denial-land living. There is one person I try to minimize my bitchiness too and that is Andy…..why are you laughing?….I am serious….I really do try. Granted I usually fail. Miserably. Lately I have been failing even misearblyer….just go with that one.

Andy is a tricky nut to crack. I often describe him as a deer. The best approach is “no sudden movements”. If you move in slowly, munching on the grass as you work your way towards him, then he is peachy with your presence. But if you trample towards him BAM he’s off like lightening! The problem is – my brain tramples. It doesn’t move slowly and quietly. It is like ‘Hey what if….?’ and then there is no slow down filter between it and my mouth and then Andy is running scared, so to speak.

Here’s what I am talking about. So his semester just started….like as in this is the second week of classes. So any normal wife/significant other would chill the fuck out and not start thinking about things that might take place 9 months from now. But is that what Natalie does? Nope.
The program Andy is in highly recommends doing an internship. Unfortunately unlike my internship, his is sort of an out-of-the-country kind of deal….you know being International Affairs and what not. What? That takes place not in America? you don’t say. Although Andy has said he would like his area of focus to be America and how he could work at the American embassy in America. ‘You’re having issues with your passport, no problem, you’re already home. Voila!’. Easiest job in the world.

Anyhoodles. As you may have figured I am a freakishly ridiculous over-the-top bit of a planner. So if we’re really considering the idea of Andy going away for a period of time next summer, I want to start preparing for it….like yesterday. Andy is not so much into planning….at least not to the same levels as me and as early.

Anyway, after his first day of classes….hey at least I waited until the first day of classes…I started asking him about summer internship opportunities – were there any of interest, etc. Wouldn’t it be cool to get the CIA internship because those are formatted to turn into being hired by the CIA after you graduate. Blah Blah Blah. I can hear myself and I am sitting in the back of my head yelling hey! calm the hell down crazy pants! But do I stop? Nope. Anyway I really am trying to not annoy the hell out of my husband these days.

Marriage is hard y’all. But I’m working at it….hell I will be working at it until I am dead, but in reality it isn’t that hard. I mean on a scale of one to ten I would say it is like a 4.27. Not bad right? Lately I have been wondering what would happen if Andy and I had not gotten married…..don’t get the wrong idea about this statement…the reason it has come to mind is that Bret is engaged (Hi Bret! if you are reading this!). Now I don’t want to go too into all that has transpired over the past 6 months, but to give you a quick breakdown basically between the time when Bret was out here for Jack’s birth and when she came back out in July for a friend’s wedding: she changed jobs, moved, started dating and got engaged to a fella. They had been dating for two months prior to becoming engaged.

As one might imagine, I was more than a little like: blink…..blink…..WTF?…..blink…..blink. True to form, I attempted to give Bret advice, caution her, etc. She listened, responded to my concerns, and then went on her merry way. The good news is her time frame did slow down a bit. The original thought was they would get hitched in October and now it is looking like next summer. That has definitely helped me get through the initial shock. My intent is not to belabor timeframe but rather to talk about how my point of view has changed. When she first told me about her engagement I just couldn’t fathom a marriage happening without a strong relationship “foundation” of sorts. I have seen my fair share of short-term relationships turned marriage – military….nuff said there – and the majority of them have imploded. In my observation the relationships that have had success have been those where the couple has spent a lot of time together. So that was where I was coming from.

But when I started thinking about myself 8 years ago, at the mature age of 20 years old (thick with sarcasm), I started wondering ‘did I really know what I was getting into?’. And the answer is – no, not really. I knew who I was getting into it with, but I didn’t know what was coming. I had spent 4 years with Andy before we tied the knot. Meaning, I was 17 years old when I chose my life partner. At first glance I would say in terms of knowing what you’re doing, Bret ranks much higher on that scale at 27 than I did at 17. So basically what all this is getting at is…..I have come to a place of acceptance. Acceptance that this is her life, she will make the choices that are right for her. Life and relationships don’t fit into this little box of “how things should work”.

Where am I going with all this?……um I can’t really remember….oh right, basically after a lot of thought I have come to the conclusion that I am very lucky. I would say the odds were stacked against Andy and myself – around 99 to 1 as a rough estimate. I honestly don’t know why it has worked or how it has worked. I guess the only thing I can say is that we knew getting into it that we had a LOT of growing up to do and we chose to do that together. We’ve come to points in our life that have been extremely hard. If we had chose a different way to deal with them we would have gone different ways.

Basically our tactic to a “successful” marriage (however that is officially defined) is what I will thus dub the “Rubberband Tactic”. Rubberbands are flexible right? Thus allowing growth, change, etc. But there are limits to a rubberband. You can’t just stretch it as far as you want or it will break. Therefore the Rubberband Tactic means you realize the stretchy limit of your relationship and when it gets close to that point, you make the effort to come back together.
Dang sometimes I am like Socrates. My brains are so big and developed and shit. So there you have it, two marital tactics in one post the “Deer Tactic” and the “Rubberband Tactic”. Maybe I should write a marriage book…..yeah that is a bad idea.



First off, damn it. I uploaded my pictures and realized I seriously failed on the ‘taking pictures of our vacation’ front. But at least there are a few. Here they are:
First stop V.entis Cafe and Taphouse. Happy Jack and a couple of true pints (apparently most pint glasses are smaller than a pint? who knew?)

Jack escapes his stroller.

His new thing is to stand on your lap and lean on the table.
On our drive up the coast we stopped just after the He.ceta to hike the Hobbit Trail. The entire way Andy and I were signing “we’re taking the hobbits to isengaard”…..go here if you have no idea what I am talking about.

Carrying our own little hobbit



Then Bam! the beach. Epic.

‘Jack what do you think of the beach?’-Mom
‘It’s okay….you have a booger in your nose’- Jack

I could live here

Look a picture of me with my kid. How weird is that?

Back in the car, he fell asleep like this.

Stop in Newport for dinner at the Ro.gue Brewery.

Watching the boats while we ate/drank

Jack eats menu

Classy motel in Til.lamook. Who’s going out for ice? Classy pants.  
Natalie nerds out: takes family to one of the last WWII blimp hangars in the country. Is now an air museum….in case that wasn’t clear.

It is sizable.

Jack does the stand/lean while we watch the nerdy movie about the construction of the hangar.

In case you don’t believe that it is big, here is a blimp inside of it and there were about 30 planes on display. They blocked off the back half since they have more space then they have planes to display and it is used for Semitruck and RV storage. So kinda small.
Then family books it to Portland, where we meet up with my cousin and her husband who is home from Kuwait on R&R. We have lunch and beer at our hotel (The Ken.nedy Scho.ol = Rocks) then drove to Wi.ndame.r brewery? or something like that and tried their beer too. Then we came back to our hotel. Jack and mom napped. Dad went to the Cigar room and made friends. Hmmm where are the pictures of all this? Yeah = Fail. I did snap a pic of our hotel room. They are converted classrooms. So we had a blackboard. Fun. I took Jack into the soaking pool. Then put him back down for a nap. Andy and I had dinner and 1500 hours later (exaggeration) Bret and her fiance arrived (at 11pm….who stays up that late anymore) and we drank/visited in the bar. It was so nice having all this stuff on-site. Our hotel room was across the hall from the bar so Andy and I took turns going back to the room to check on Jack, who slept for like 3 hours straight. Teething = sucks. The next morning we woke up and Bret/fiance met us for brunch. Then it was back to the airport for us.
It was fun Oregon, hope to see you again someday….in a vacation- manner.

Thought Vomit Thursday

On a Thursday? What an abnormality. Here we go:

  • Revelation: Jack’s mom is just as stubborn as he is. After reading through all your comments on my last post I realized one thing…’re right…..well those of you who suggested the ‘don’t feed him from the boob that’ll get him to take a bottle’. You’re right. That would certainly be the best option to getting this worked out. But here’s the thing. I’ve tried that. It is fucking miserable. Remember that one day I wrote about? That long ass fucking day that I said ‘I am going to not give in and eventually he will take a bottle’. He cried and screamed THE WHOLE DAY. Well not all day. In between crying and screaming and looking at me like he was saying ‘you are the biggest bitch in the entire world and I hate you’, he would just pass out. In my opinion this tactic was his way of saying ‘fall asleep and when you wake up this won’t be happening’. Proof that even my spawn likes living in Denial-land. At the end of that 14 hour day, despite being certain that I would win, the only thing I won was some big tears rolling down my face and the feeling that I was probably the worst mother in history. Since that day, I have tried it several other times. Not the all day bouts, but I have tried giving him a bottle instead of feeding him when I first get home. Screams. I have tried giving him a bottle after I feed him for 5 minutes when I get home. Screams. I have tried feeding him a bottle before bed instead of nursing. Screams. I have tried giving him a bottle in the morning before I go to work. Screams. Andy, Emmicakes, Jack’s Grandparents, and now Pippa, have all attempted the seemingly impossible task of bottle feeding Jack. Sometimes there is mild success. Sometimes great success. But the majority of the time. Jack wins. So you’re right. I could say ‘no boobies, just bottles’. But there are two issues with this. Obviously the screaming is not fun to deal with. And two, I hate my electric baby. I am hooked up to the electric baby 9 times a week at minimum. And believe me, that feels like too much. The idea of moving to just pumping (don’t know how you ladies do it who are doing this) is right up there with pulling my fingernails off with a pair of rusty pliers…..yes they have to be rusty. It has crossed my mind that I should just wean. After all, we’re not exactly against the idea of getting Nugget Dos underway. And it was most important to me to breast feed for the first 3 months…….but…..but…..well I like breast feeding. Scratch that. I LOOOOoovvveee breast feeding. Well I don’t love pulling out my boob and realizing that it is getting closer to the ground everyday (yep won’t be long until I will be nicknamed “Longboobs”). But every time I snuggle Jack up to me and his little eyes gaze up at me. Oh god it is like fucking crack to me! The first “session” after I get home from work, he will gulp vigorously for a couple minutes and then his eyes will meet mine, his hand reaches up and rests up by my colarbone, he will pull his little head away, smile and coo. Like he is saying ‘there you are! I am so happy you’re home. I missed you!’. It gives me tears just thinking about how much I love that. How much I need that. It is hard being away from your baby. I mean it is easy for me to be at work, but it is hard at the same time. The fact that at the end of a long day away I come home and Jack wants me as much as I want him. That just makes this “challenge” okay somehow.
  • All that being said, um….we do have a problem. Travel for work. How are we going to deal with that? I chatted with the husband about it on Monday night. He said ‘well if you have to go, you have to go, and we’ll be fine’. Have I mentioned how awesome of a husband I have…..yeah you can’t have him. We know that Jack will drink from a bottle when he gets hungry enough. He’s done it before. And from what I hear from other people, those hours leading up to the moment he gives in and drinks aren’t really that bad. He melts down sometimes. There were those days that I got home and Andy looked shellshocked. Those were the days that I was thankful I had a baby to come home to. Andy has an extraordinarily long fuse. So for him to hand me the baby in the ‘take this evil being!’ kind of way, you know it had to have been bad. But… reality I could probably go. For work, I could go. I could ask my in-laws to come up one of the nights and help, Andy will have the babysitter to give him a day break. I could probably squeeze my trip down so I am only gone one night, fly out at the butt crack of dawn, fly back in on the red-eye the next day. It’s doable. Jack will eat. I am certain he will. But the guilt. Oh fuck the guilt. The trip isn’t even scheduled and I already feel extreme amounts of guilt at the idea of asking Andy, Pippa, potentially my in-laws, and Jack to go through that. But I can sort of justify that guilt because it is my job. It is what puts the boobie in Jack’s mouth, so to speak. I don’t really have a choice….I mean I do, but I don’t. So that reduces the guilt a bit. Plus part of me is like ‘maybe that will be the key’. Maybe I will go away for two days and he will get over himself and bottle feeding from that point on will be a breeze. Okay so for work, I could do this. But for my Girl’s weekend???I want to say I could do it. That I could say the same thing about it being the key to him starting to bottle feed. But I can’t squash the guilt for that one. Making everyone go through those rough days, even if it is just a rough first day, I can’t squash the guilt that I feel. Because I would be having a blast. I would be drinking and laughing and, knowing me, trying to remember what order to do things in the bathroom (pants down then pee). And Andy would be miserable. Jack would be miserable. Guilt-a-palooza. But let’s just stay positive and hope that in the next couple of weeks a little Jack-sized light bulb turns on and he thinks ‘hey milk is delicious no matter the receptacle’. Then all this guilt can fly out the window and fun will be had by all. And if in October we are in the same spot, well my ladies have already said they would totes understand….not that it hasn’t crossed my mind to just get Andy a hotel room a few miles away and he can just come over every 4 hours……hmmmm. Options 🙂
  • This will most certainly be the most popular bullet point: It seems my neighbor is bi-curious… before you get all huffety puffety – no – I did not experience this first-hand. For a quick re-cap. About a month ago, girl neighbor told boy neighbor that she wanted to separate. It’s been messy. Well last weekend girl neighbor went out with her friends and came home to tell boy neighbor that she is now bi-curious…….mmmkay. Why is she telling her soon-to-be-ex-husband this? Natalie’s rational brain is wondering if it is because she perhaps think it will soften the blow of the separation? Or she is trying to be mean? I am not sure. In my mind, if you are separating then it means the only discussions you should be having with one another are how to congenially face things involving the child you have together. Talking about getting your box-munched (seriously….she told him this is what happened) and/or who you are dating, should probably be left off the conversation table. Just me?
  • The above bullet point makes me more than a little apprehensive to go over to girl neighbor’s place tonight for our on-going TV night get-together……will she talk about it with me? Will she ask if boy neighbor told me about it? How do I act normally with this information in my brain? And this is also making it difficult for me to decide if I should maintain or retract my RSVP to her birthday dinner on Saturday night. I am confused. And I want to crawl under my covers and hide from the situation.  
  • Starting in October I am going to be on a Dodgeball Team…”this is my consigliere Michele”. Last winter a few guys in our office and their S/Os started an indoor soccer team. The season ran during my last trimester. And while I am an insanely awesome soccer player….NOT..(I played soccer for one season when I was 7)..I figured a big giant belly that prevented me from seeing my feet was reason enough to sit the seasion out. Well folks, Team Absolute Minimums (yep that is the name – Awesome!) is continuing on as a dodgeball team and I am joining in. This should be fun and ridiculous at the same time.
  • I find myself kind of lonesome. I mean of course I have Andy, but I am lonesome for some lady friends….in a non-dirty way! Emmicakes has been a little busy. The girl neighbor….well see above…and everyone else I hang out with lives too far away. 😦 whoa is me.
  • Since I don’t want to end on a downer, FYI tequila makes me super gasey. There now you know too much……well I think you knew too much a long time ago. But I had some margaritas on Tuesday night and Wednesday….well let’s just say if I were a rocket ship, I would have been really going places.

Happy Thursday All!

*Shit! After Josey’s comment I just realized that the bullet point about the neighbor’s bi-curiousness is going to come off as homophobic. Thus a clarification: That is totes not the issue. The issue is more ‘how did I get in the middle of this?’ I like both the guy neighbor and the girl neighbor. I know she isn’t going to try to munch my box or anything. It is more a conflict of ‘should I stay out of this entire situation? or continue to try to be both their friends?’.


This title might have just put me at the top of the FBI’s watchlist, but I can’t bring myself to care enough to change it. Well it seems “Pippa” has been hi-Jacked. She is in love. She said if I could have 100 babies like him, she would take them all. Whew! I was so relieved. I mean obviously I think that my kid shits rainbows, but I also look at other kids like they carry the plague….minus a few, don’t get defensive friends. I do like some kids. Anyway, so just because I think he kicks ass, doesn’t mean other people see him that way. But Pippa does. She said Jack was so wonderful. He just snuggled with her all day and wanted her to hold him. I was so relieved. Relieved that he didn’t cry all day. Relieved that she was a good fit for him and that he was a good fit for her. But… dice on the bottle feeding. Fuck! Say it with me people! Fuck!
And here’s why. I love my kid and if I could never be away from him for more than 12 hours (seriously kid? No bottle in 12 hours? You’re a crazy pants) that would be awesome…..but then again, it is kind of not that awesome. First, because my business trip to Oregon ended with the conversation about the next business trip to Oregon, which we may or may not be able to stretch out until October. Second, Momma has some serious plans for a much anticipated girl’s weekend in October…..hear that baby? much anticipated! These plans were in the works when you were still in utero and Momma wants to get her drink on with some of her favorite ladies. Not that momma hasn’t proven she can get her drink on and still feed you…..ahem….don’t call CPS. But Momma doesn’t want to be the only girl at the girls weekend who has to bring her stubborn-ass baby. Yeah I just called my sweet baby boy a stubborn-ass baby. Because he is. Stubborn!
Two months kid, you have two months to get this eating without momma thing down. Good news is, we are starting solids in less than a month. I am hoping starting solids will coincide with you taking milk from a sippy cup, which we’ve tried a handful of times, but you seem to equally resent. After that? I don’t know. I have no plan of attack after that. But it makes me worry. Worry about whether weaning is going to be a fucking nightmare. Worry whether this is going to seriously detract from my job. Thank god for that raise last year because it might be two years before Momma gets another one.
*Sigh* I know in the broad scheme of life, this is nothing. I am so thankful that this “challenge” isn’t something much worse. But seriously baby, please! for Momma’s sake can you consider the idea that drinking milk from some receptacle other than a boob is okay?
But on the upside, thanks baby for being such an epic rock star that even without food you capture the hearts of others. It makes momma feel a whole heck of a lot less guilty being at work, knowing that you feel safe and secure to be in the arms of someone else.

Thought Vomit Thursday on Monday

Suck it bitches! There are no rules to TVT therefore I am posting one on a Monday. It is sort of like my version of burning my bra. Only I am pretty sure those peace-lovin’ bra-burning hippy chicks cursed less than I do.

  • First off- I am still alive. Sorry about the radio silence last week. I was traveling for work turned vacation and then the weekend. Therefore this is kind of my TVT for last week, but it includes shit from after Thursday. Whatevs, no rules ‘member?
  • Oregon- Rocked my face off. It was gorgeous. The coast = breathtaking, the beer = endless. Got to meet Bret’s fiance (is it two e’s for chicks or dudes? I can’t remember). WHAT? Bret has a fiance? (you might be thinking) That is a story for some other day. Saw my cousin and her husband who is home on R&R from Kuwait. Stayed in a super classy hotel (more on that later this week…..requires photo downloads) and did a super cheesy touristy thing.
  • Jack and I got sick during our trip – Boo. We were both feeling like shit Friday-Sunday. But after a LOT of sleep (didn’t get out of bed until 1pm yesterday) we’re both mendin’ up reel nice like.
  • Jack rolled his saucey-little rolley-poley ass off the hotel room bed while I was working. Andy felt horrible! Proof that tough guys still turn into softies when their kids are hurt
  • Today is Andy’s first day back to school, THUS Jack’s first day of daycare, THUS, I have ants in my pants THUS I am posting this TVT on a Monday. No cohesive thoughts coming out of this head today. I can barely do my work……you are looking at the proof of that right now. I am counting the seconds until it is time to go get him. I KNOW he is fine. I just…..well I am antsy. I am antsy to lay my fingers on his cubby little tummy and give him kisses.
  • Um what else is there really? That is all I can think about now.
  • I promise to recap the trip, first day of day care, etc. this week.

Thought Vomit Thursday

Bam! Here we go:

  • Work trip turned Family Vacay – Woohoo! We’re going to Oregon next week and it is going to be fucking AWESOME! I have always wanted to take Andy with me on my work trips up in the big OR. The clients we meet with up there are so rad there aren’t even words to describe them. Quick example, it’s my first trip up there with my boss, we went out at the insistance (word? who fuckin cares) of the client, client encourages me to drink like 5 cape cods (this is the trip I learn that a cranberry juice and vodka is called a “cape cod”. aren’t we snotty now?), my boss drinks like 10 beers, the client and his wife out drink both of us, several hours later boss and I are in the rental car trying to concentrate really hard, we have a very ridiculous conversation about how we should have decided who the DD was before the night began. We make lots of wrong turns trying to get to our hotel. Stupid one-way streets! Hilariousness ensues… drinking and driving is bad….don’t do it. So that was our first trip, and the subesequent trips after that only got better. Luckily we started going to a brewery within walking distance of our hotel….note, we don’t necessarily walk better than we drive while drunk. Picture my boss and I in the hotel lobby at 3am talking to a group of uber-crunchy home birth midwives (about a year before the conception of Nugget, but well into the throws of TTC) VERY loudly. My boss was slurredly describing how he and his wife used the Bradley Method and I was slurredly saying that I “like TOTALLY am going to have a home birth someday”. The only thing I remember was the midwife saying ‘you can catch your own baby’ when I said ‘not sure if my husband is up to catching the baby though’. Hippies!. Needless to say, Andy is going to have a great trip. Jack is going to be saved from having to starve for two nights while I am working (yeah bottle feeding, not going to well), and after the “work” part of our trip is over, we’re tacking on a mini-vacation which will involve driving up the Oregon coast. It’s okay you can hate me….it is going to be awesome. And then culminating the trip with a stay at Kennedy School. The client’s wife recommended it since I told her I was a nerd for Historic buildings… it has a brewery on site. Score!
  • Making this trip means two things: first, we have to go get Andy’s textbooks this weekend since we won’t have time next weekend. Second, we won’t be able to do the “practice days” at daycare. Hmmm. I think it will be okay. Worse case scenario I will leave work early on his first couple of days. My boss is cool like that (see above) so I am sure it will be no problem.
  • As you might imagine, I am hoping Jack’s Daycare lady….um we’ll call her Pippa….and that’s because that is what she wants to be called. No idea why…I think she said something about it being a German name for a person who cares for babies? Damn I am a bad listener sometimes. Anyway, I am hoping Pippa is like a shaman of bottle feeding and Jack will all of a sudden become a regular bottle feeding baby. The biggest issue is because in October some shiznit is going down in the big C.O. There is going to be this awesome girl’s weekend that will involve a handful of liberated mommies. I don’t want to be the party pooper and bring a baby.
  • Jack is teething and/or growing and it is painful for him. The little fella did not have a good night last night (Tuesday Night) and in turn i did not have a good night. About 3:30a he started crying. I place boob in his mouth. He = not hungry, just pissed. I change diaper. He = pissed. I try to rock/soothe/put finger in his mouth to rub his gums/ give him a dropper of tylenol. He = pissed. Me = awake. I tried laying him back down to see if he just needed some good old Cry It Out…nope. Pick him back up. Strip off his pjs, sing him a Beatles song, and decide he is going to sleep next to me the rest of the night. That seemed to work.
  • That fun night meant that Wednesday morning (Today because I am starting my TVT early….you’ll see why) I needed some MAJOR caffeine. FYI I don’t drink caffeine often. I was thinking a grande iced chai just wasn’t going to do it, so venti it was…….by the time I got to work (30 minutes later) I had called my Dad, then my grandma, and then my Dad again (scheduling a family event for Saturday). At some point I said “he loves it!” when my dad asked me something about Jack…..then I realized I had no idea what he asked…..shit! And I still don’t. Hopefully it never comes up again.
  • Caffeinated Natalie is fucking hilarious. I type really fast, speak even faster, jump around on projects like my pants are on fire, basically I am hilarious. I have gotten a lot done today, but at the same time I probably could have been more efficient, if that makes sense…..probably not because I am still a little hopped up.
  • I realize typing this TVT on Wednesday kind of breaks the rules, but Aaaahhhh I got you! there are no rules to TVT. You can write it whenever you want. You can post it whenever you want. This is the best invention ever.
  • To top it all off, I had an appointment today to get a message. Yeah there is nothing like trying to relax whilst hopped up on chai. Whatever I am probably the loosest caffeinated person there ever was.
  • Our office is moving on Friday. So starting Monday I will need to go to a different building. note to self: don’t drink caffeine on Monday. What this means for me is that it looks like Hoarders up in this joint. I took a picture on my phone of the pile of recycled paper that needed to go out and the boxes stacked almost to the ceiling. I totally feel claustrophobic trying to get to my desk. Not good.
  • I think I have run out of Thought Vomit. Hope you all have a great Thursday. Peace Love and other Shit.

She Did IT!!!!

First off, thanks to all of you for your wonderful comments. I was feeling like a shitty friend a bit and you helped validate that my thoughts were well intentioned. Andy informed me the other day that although I might seem well-intentioned that I am kind of a birth-snob. He said “your birth wasn’t only intimidating to other women, it would be intimidating to most men”. I don’t mean to be a birth-snob. I see myself more like Rosie the Riveter…hang on!
Bam! There is me as Rosie in 2006.
As I was saying, I try to be more like Rosie “You Can Do It!”…obviously I have several buddies with extenuating circumstances that this sort of perspective doesn’t apply to. I know those ladies wished they had the opportunity to birth naturally and would have if they could’ve.
But anyway, I am blabbering on for no reason, because Emmicakes DID IT!!!! She did it! And I am so proud of her. Granted it was kind of accidental that she didn’t have an epidural. When I talked to her yesterday she said ‘I wanted one, but it all happened so fast, by the time I asked for it, it was too late’. Which means, she actually didn’t feel a need for it until she hit transition, a time when we all either say, or as in my case, think ‘I could go for an epidural right now’. So in my mind Emmicakes is an AMAZON! She did it! I was so proud of her I almost started crying when I told her ‘I knew you could do it’. Whoa whoa, let me back up.
Okay so as of 6am when I texted back and forth with Pickles, she wasn’t contracting. They had started her on Cervidil the night before, she had a few contractions and then nothing. I am not totally clear on the deets, but they gave her Pitocin sometime between 6am and 11am, because I received a text from Dylan that she was at 6cm and doing great around 11:30a. I thought about heading out, but again I figured he would tell me if she wanted me to come and mostly I was thinking that it took me 5 hours to go from 6cm to ready to push and I wasn’t thinking hers would be much faster. So I sat tight. Sounds like she went from 6cm to feeling the need to push in an hour because she said she got in the pool and then a few contractions later was like ‘I need to push!’. They don’t let them birth in the pool at this birth center….there are mixed thoughts on this, the biggest worry is they can’t tell how much blood you are losing if you are in the pool….and it turned out to be a REALLY good thing she wasn’t in the pool, but I’ll get to that. So she’s ready to push, asks for an epidural, finds out it is too late and 45 minutes or so later, Lucy Isabella arrives!!!!!!
She was 6lbs 3oz and 18″ long. What a shrimp! She looks like a tiny little elf….sorry no pics yet. Stoopid Natalie forgot her camera when she went to visit yesterday. But I did remember the brie and crackers, which Emmicakes requested months ago…..and of course some chocolate. Yes I am available to come visit you after your birth. I bring gifts! Send me an e-mail and I’ll put you on the calendar. 🙂
So as you can discern, Emmicakes lost a lot of blood. It was a little scary there for a bit. Thank god she wasn’t in the pool. She said they kept her in recovery for the entire day and wouldn’t let anyone visit her until later in the evening. Bad stuff. When I got there yesterday around 5, she was still pretty pale and said she felt a little weak, but overall she was doing great. She said that Lucy is breast feeding like a champ! Woohoo! and she is now experiencing the joy that is the first few days of painful as shit nipples. We only stayed for a little while because their family was coming in shortly after us. And that crazy girl asked us to come over tonight when she gets home from the hospital. What is she thinking? I think I will text her and see if it would be better for us to visit tomorrow or later this weekend. I think she’ll need lots of resting time and plenty of time to get settled to having a new baby in her house. Then again, maybe she will be stir crazy. I remember texting her to come visit several times and I had Andy’s mom and Bret there for the first week.
So that’s the story. I promise to get pictures of the little bean sprout soon. *huge sigh of relief* I am just so glad everything went okay…..and now I must bitch internally how her labor was a fraction of mine :). Hahaha. Go figure right?