… apparently it’s been four days since my last post. Feels like I pressed “publish” about two hours ago. No, wait. Two months. Yeah, definitely feels like two months. Anyway, look how cute Grady is:

I’ve been so lucky with this girl. She’s ridiculously well-behaved and healthy so far. We’ve found a rhythm that makes nighttime and morning downright pleasant. Which is just ludicrous.

She’s gained one pound and one ounce since we were discharged from the hospital. She’s so much better at focusing on things now – I can really tell when she’s looking at me. It’s insane (you know, in a completely ordinary and expected way) how fast she’s growing.

I’m considering a blatant vain look-how-skinny-I-am post. Because as much as I loved being pregnant, having my body back is wonderful. And I think it would have been calming if I could see how easy it can be to reclaim your pre-pregnancy body. You know, if you’re just insanely undeservedly lucky. And also I want to show off the skinny.

Read parts one and two first!

Okay. Here we go.

I fell asleep immediately after the epidural, and was allowed to sleep for about fifteen minutes before I was woken up to get a catheter. An amazing catheter that I should have named or something – it was just so wonderful. Then I got another hour to “rest and descend”  – often women in my position get just as much done by sleeping than by actively trying to get their cervix to open. And after an hour of rest, I was finally to ten centimeters, and the baby had descended just about as far as she could go.

And so it was time to begin pushing. It hurt, but I had regained the energy and cognizance necessary to remember the goal – to be excited to meet my daughter. It was once again that productive pain. My mom held one leg, Caitlin the other, and I was confident and focused again. This is why it was the right decision to get an epidural – having access to my own mind during my daughter’s birth was priceless. After a quick hour and one-half of pushing, I finally got to meet my Grady:

It was the moment of my life. It’s weird to think that almost everyone comes into the world this way – that it requires so much to bring each individual person here. And now I’m crying, so it’s time to switch to bullet points.

• Grady Edna Isabel Sundquist was born on October 11, 2009 at 11:39 p.m. She weighed 7 lbs, 10 oz and was 19.5″ long.
• “The Wind Cries Mary” by Jimi Hendrix was playing while she was born.
• Grady had to stay in the NICU for three days due to respiratory problems and as a precaution against infection. And also a bit of jaundice. It was miserable, but she is healthy.
• It has been difficult, but not in any way that I could have predicted. Or imagined. Most of the time, Grady is an extremely well-behaved baby. We’re not floundering.
• I still get chills every time I write “we.”

And here we are now. “Now” is a post of it’s own.

Read part one first!

When we left off, the nurse had offered to have my “already-broken” water broken. This was yet another artificial intervention, and I was definitely hesitant. However, the idea of proving my stupid Pitocin-loving doctor wrong was very enticing. So in the doctor came with the thing that looks like a plastic crochet hook, and as he was complaining about “not feeling a membrane” and “not thinking this would make a difference” the floodgates opened. I soaked the entire bed. And the doctor left promptly, proved wrong by my massive amounts of amniotic fluid.

Once your water breaks, labor intensifies and speeds up. And it did. The pain became an entity of it’s own – it was the first time I’ve ever experienced pain that overcame thought and memory and intellect. I started getting frantic at this point, but kept it to myself. The last thing I wanted was to needlessly worry members of my team. Also, it was very difficult to speak. I know for sure that I was moaning and screaming, but I don’t remember much else.

I was still able to take it one contraction at a time, though. It was extremely important that I remain completely in the present while contracting. Up until this time, I could recognize the rhythm of the contractions – the peaks and valleys. But then it got nasty.

The nurse came in once more to check me, and once again I was at a seven. And then, in between contractions, it hit me. I had been at a seven for four hours (I’ve completely made the time frame up here – that’s just what it felt like and I have no idea what the reality of it is). I had only two hours of sleep under my belt. Other than the smoothie and the almonds, I was living on juice, pudding, and ice chips. The entity of pain – at this point it was a complete entity, with notional motivations and every human characteristic but a name and body – no longer seemed like something I could conquer. I was stressed and panicking. And so I asked for an epidural.

This was a huge deal for me. I had been preparing for months, memorizing the reasons to not recieve any pain medication. I had rehearsed saying things like “I do not want an epidural,” and in the repition it became part of my personality. I saw a natural childbirth as the ultimate expression of feminism – I wanted to be the one to give birth to my child. I would not give that beautiful accomplishment to a doctor or a drug or an industry. And could I have done it without pain medication? I think I could have. I also think it would have been a mistake.

I was in transition, and had most of the symptoms of it. I was shaking, nauseous, downtrodden, hopeless, and constantly uncomfortable. Unable to relax between contractions. At this point I began denying the advice of my doula – I remember telling her that my body didn’t know how to do what she was saying. I was completely terrified.

When I asked for an epidural, Caitlin told me it was too late. Which is what I had requested she do, whether or not it is the truth. It turns out that was enough to shut me up, but not in a productive way. I had completely lost confidence at this point, and felt doomed.

I hadn’t given my mom the birth plan, and thank science for my procrastination. Because she didn’t completely understand what I thought were my wishes, she snuck out and told the nurse I wanted an epidural.

Because I had denied the possibility of obtaining an epidural, I did very little research about the actual process. I knew the effects, but I didn’t know how the actual device worked. Why spend time learning about it if it’s not going to happen? Anyway, I was still in transition when the … I forgot the word … let’s go with pain-doctor. I was still in transition when the pain-doctor got to the room, and having a needle shoved into your spine while your entire body is already unable to relax is difficult. I remember sitting on the bed, trying to keep my back rounded, burying my face in the nurse’s chest, holding someone’s hand, and just growling.

It only took the pain-doctor two attempts to give me the perfect epidural – I could still feel pain, but obviously not nearly as much as before. And I fell asleep immediately.

And that’s all for now. Grady’s first doctor’s appointment is in two hours and I have tons of stuff to get done before then. You can look forward to part three – it’s the most exciting.

Anesthesiologist! That’s what it’s called.

Now go to part three.

This is going to be really difficult to write. I’m just going to go for it and see what comes out.

Last Saturday night (October 10), I was … sitting at home. I know that I ate some Del Taco that day, but that’s about the full extent of my memory. Anyway, my neighbor booked a full-body massage at a local massage therapy school, and found that they had a buy-one-get-one-free deal that day. So my kind neighbor offered me the second massage. Off I went at about 10 p.m. My lovely massage therapist had four children, and therefore knew exactly how I felt – I was six days away from my due date, and wanted that baby out. So she had no qualms about working certain pressure points that are rumored (or proven … I don’t know) to start labor.

I’m not the smartest. So when I went home and started having on and off pain in my lower back and groin, I didn’t even think that the pain could possibly have anything to do with labor. So I might as well finish my smoothie and talk on the phone and chat on the internet until midnight. Anyway, I got a couple hours of sleep in, before I woke up at 2 a.m., feeling the pain more intensely. My solution was to ditch my pants, because maybe a tight waistband was causing cramping. Or something. So I changed into a very fortuitous dress (you’ll see why later), and tried to sleep more.

Sleeping didn’t happen. Kneeling on all fours lessened the pain, and I remembered from the many childbirth books I read that the same position alleviated labor pains. And that’s how it dawned on me that I was probably in labor. So I called my wonderful, wonderful doula Caitlin at 5:47 and she started heading toward my house. Soon after I woke my dad up – he wanted to leave for the hospital immediately because I’m foolish and didn’t give him my birth plan ahead of time. I informed him that I’d like to labor at home as long as possible, and grabbed an Otter Pop. Also some almonds, because almonds have protein in them and are my go-to “healthy food” when I can’t wrap my brain around the food pyramid. I attempted a warm bath, but couldn’t stand to stay in long. Sitting was not the most comfortable thing.

Caitlin arrived, and we chatted about who-knows-what until about 7:45, when I felt it was the right time to go to the hospital. We waited in triage for a few contractions, and a nurse came in to poke around and inform me that my water had broken and I was dilated to a 2, so I was going to be admitted.

I had been leaking small amounts of fluid steadily for about two days. By small I mean it was contained by underwear. I thought I was just reaching the incontinent stage of pregnancy. But the litmus doesn’t lie, and the leaking was amniotic fluid. Some of the nurses said my water had officially broken, some said that it wasn’t that dramatic. Very mysterious.

I should take a moment to mention that I really really don’t care about talking about the graphic aspect of childbirth. So, be warned. And feel free to ask anything. Let’s get this out there right now – my vagina is stitched up like Frankenstein. For a while there my boobs went from the middle of my armpit right to the middle of my sternum and were as hard as rocks. And I really can’t sit on un-cushioned chairs.

Anyway, off I went to the room where I would give birth. At this point I kind of lost track of time. My team took notes, but who really cares about knowing exactly when I reached five centimeters? I’ll just put my impressions here. When I got to Labor & Delivery, I was still able to at least smile:

The dress turned out to be perfect. Light cotton, but printed enough to obscure stains. Easy and quick to remove, long enough to keep me from being in a constant state of flashing everyone. I lucked into the perfect labor outfit. The only thing I would have changed would be a zipper down the entire length of one side, so that I could get the dress off easier for baths, but only because I had the IV.

Because of the “early rupture of membranes” (I’m still skeptical about that), my doctor was pushing for Pitocin – a man-made form of the hormone oxytocin – which speeds and intensifies labor. I highly dislike Pitocin. We successfully evaded it.

At this point the contractions were uncomfortable, but very bearable. About four hours later, I was checked again – at three centimeters this time. I was aware that dilation is an exponential process, and it usually takes forever to get to a three. And from then on things progress more quickly. So at this point I was confident and focused. A kind of focus that I’ve never experienced before – there was no conception of past or future, and very little recognition of anything outside of my own body. I could still make small talk, but I wasn’t really present for it.

I tested positive for Group B Strep, and therefore had to be put on intravenous antibiotics. When I first learned of this – the initial deviation from my birth plan – I was extremely discouraged. But I had enough time to accept it by the time I went into labor, and I know that it was the best thing to do for the baby. My saline drip was kind of wonky, so I’d get un-diluted penicillin every once in a while, or the fluids would ebb and then flow with vigor. Both of these things hurt. A lot. This man-made pain made my contractions more bearable by comparison – they may have hurt more, but they were made more of a protagonist. Pain with a purpose, pain that would give me a daughter. Instead of pain caused by some defect in a plastic bag attached to a metal pole.

Maybe two hours later, I was checked again. This time I measured at five centimeters. I became more and more confident and focused as the contractions grew stronger and closer together. I don’t remember much from this time. At some point began feeling the chill from the penicillin, and would ask for heated blankets regularly – these were fantastic. I highly recommend them. I also recommend using a birth room with an independent heating system. Being able to adjust the temperature at my will was wonderful.

My birth team was fantastic – each member was completely irreplacable. Due to the black plague swine flu, the hospital would only allow two visitors at a time. I was extremely grateful for this – I didn’t want to play hostess. My doula Caitlin was the most active member of the team.

She and I had talked extensively about what I wanted and didn’t want during labor. She provided me with the information I needed to be confident about my ability to bring a child into the world. I can’t emphasize enough how great she was. She’d spring into action the second I showed signs of going into a contraction – massaging, guiding my breath, and suggesting new positions to ease the pain. Until the pain got really bad, I came back to the same position for each contraction. It eased the back labor, and until my feet began to feel pain from the swelling from the IV, it was the most comfortable thing.

My mother and father made up the rest of the team, each switching occasionally with my sister Jenn. Until the contractions got to the point where I had to groan and scream my way through them, they mainly sat and talked, staying out of my way, keeping things light, and providing support as soon as I asked. Which is exactly what I wanted from them.

A couple hours later, I was at seven centimeters. The pain was getting awful. Miserable. But I was still making progress, still confident and focused. A couple hours (I think) later, I was told I was still at a seven. I later learned that the (wonderful, new, perfect, pushy and fantastic) nurse actually thought I was at a five, but was smart enough to withhold that blow. This news was discouraging enough as is. The nurse felt the bulge of a full amniotic sac below the baby’s head, and offered to have my water broken artificially.

That’s all I can write tonight – baby should wake up soon and I need to start sleeping. I’ll continue next time I have an unscheduled naptime.

Here are parts two and three.

I’ve only got phone-ternet in the hospital, so you’ll get the detailed, well written birth story later. For now let’s let it rest at “Everything’s fine.”

October 8, 2009

• 8:18 p.m. – Tomorrow Winston goes to the babysitter’s for a couple weeks. And tonight he’s totally ignoring me. If only he knew how much he’ll miss my stifling, repressive love.
• 9:03 p.m. – I’m still pretty mobile, for being so pregnant. I can get up from sitting on the floor with at least a little bit of grace. But man, getting in and out of cars is tough. Painful.
• 9:43 p.m. – I should stop being an ass to all of my friends. I generally completely ignore their victories or good qualities and point out their inadequacies. Not out of malice or anything, I just sometimes forget that it is productive to make people feel good about themselves.
• 9:55 p.m. – Ethical/interpersonal quagmire. Is pity for someone who has wronged you a sign of weakness? And when it seems like your only options are to be sad (a.k.a. a victim) or bitter (a.k.a. resentful and stagnant), what is the third option that I’m just not seeing? Don’t even want to think about it. I’d much rather just eat Otter Pops and knit all day.
• 11:57 p.m. – I just went to the grocery store for non-necessities and it was easy and convenient and I was able to talk on the phone and no tantrums were thrown and I appreciated it as much as I could. For future reference.

October 9, 2009

• 12:33 a.m. – One day closer to the big day. Maybe today is the big day. Nobody knows.
• 2:34 p.m. – The thing about “getting ready” for a baby is that it’s impossible. And annoying. Because the “readier” I am, the fewer contractions I have. And looking at that empty car seat? Trying on that empty sling? Organizing the clean diapers and neatly folding and re-folding onesies? It’s a miserable amount of excitement and anticipation. But I can’t complain about it, because oh-I’ll-be-missing-the-order-once-the-baby-comes-just-you-trust-me. And beyond all the physical preparations, being “ready” for a baby isn’t like being ready to run a marathon or build a house. There’s just no definition for it. So when people ask if I’m ready, I can’t say yes and I don’t say no. Wait. This is such a non-issue. Nevermind.
• 6:27 p.m. – Hoo boy. Sometimes the best ideas are pretty terrifying. Make that “sometimes” a “usually”.
• 6:33 p.m. – I finished my “get borned” playlist. Bands that aren’t allowed: The Decemberists, Great Big Sea, Billy Joel, Bob Dylan, Nirvana, We Five, and The Proclaimers.
• 6:51 p.m. – “I heard you with my ear. ‘Noculars.” So good.

October 10, 2009

• 4:20 a.m. – I’m toeing the line between being “persistent” and being “a stalker.” Not right at this very second. Because I think anything done at four in the morning tends to lean toward “stalker.” But you know, during the daytime. But I’ve got some questions and I’d like some answers.
• 4:27 a.m. – I have a problem with the word “literally,” and have decided that the way to solve my problem is to escalate it until I’ve filled my “literally” quota for life. Right now I’m literally so tired. I miss Winston literally a lot. I literally want someone to bring me some Del Taco.
• 6:16 a.m. – Aaaaaaaaah!
• 6:18 a.m. – I’m awake this early because I fell asleep at eleven. Five consecutive hours of sleep is actually pretty unexpected and awesome.
• 12:16 p.m.- Okay. This is ridiculous. I’m going to go find some new corner of the internet that can give me advice on how to deal with people.
• 2:43 p.m. – The end. I’ve got to deal with this ridiculousness, because I want to be calm and tranquil when I go into labor. Here’s an update on the butterfly so that this isn’t all just words:

And also here’s a song. This is not on the “get borned” playlist, but it’s still good. And it says words that I like. Anyway, it’s Think by Aretha Franklin.

I just found these wonderful photos by marine beloir in the phat quarter pool, and I’m kind of in love. This one is definitely my favorite, but you should also check out all of these beauties.
She also has a blog and a shop on Etsy.

Also, you probably positively need more cat-inspired craft in your life. Follow that link. Do it now.

Remember this post? As soon as I published it, I wanted to start another one. And so I did. I wrote what I was thinking/doing/feeling for about three days, and added some photos of the craftiness. And now it’s gone. I don’t know where it went, but it’s all gone. This is a record of the last few days of my pregnancy! And it’s gone! I’m so angry! I saved it along the way, even though WordPress automatically saves drafts. Then I tried to create a new category, and the internet said that wasn’t allowed. I tried to publish, and the internet said I failed. I went back to the draft, and THE WHOLE THING WAS GONE.

Obviously this is a complete tragedy and it will take me weeks and weeks to get over it. Anyway, here’s the craftiness you missed, and I’ll just start the list all over again.

I found a great vintage book of kitschy animal cross-stitch patterns, and I’m planning on making a bunch to frame and hang in the nursery. First is this butterfly, next is a frog on a lillypad. The butterfly is actually my least favorite of the bunch – all of the other animals are much much kitschier.

And this will soon be a slipper, from this pattern. I’m making it specifically for labor. For some reason I think that having a circus-colored squooshy knit pair of slippers to look at during contractions will somehow help. My sister swears by freshly-painted toenails, and hand-dyed yarn in garter stitch is kind of my own version of that.

And this will soon look like a grey version of the red shrug on the teddy bear in this picture. It’s made from re-claimed yarn just like the slippers. In fact, it’s from the same sweater I used to make this blanket. Sweaters go a long way – I still have maybe 4 skeins of this stuff left. Those large holes are made from an skp-2yo-k2tog pattern, which is super fun.

Today I look like a knocked up hipster.

Everything is thrifted, as usual. Except for the hat, which is handmade. As usual. Also I think I stole the tights from my mom when I was … sixteen? Something like that. Yeah. I never throw out tights.

The shoes are amazing. I should have attempted to get a better photo of them. Anyway, the brand is Bally, which I’ve never heard of. A friend of mine said they looked like British-private-school shoes, and the incredible innacuracy of this statement made me really unreasonably angry. Stupid boys.

Today I’m 38 weeks and 6 days pregnant. By the calendar I have one week and one day left, but baby should be coming any day now. I’ve been pregnant for approximately 272 days. Something so usual shouldn’t be so difficult to wrap my head around.

The name and theme may be updated, but everything else is the same. So far I really like the all-grey look, but it might need a little something. Should I keep the header grey, as it is now, or add some color, like this ?

Anyway, the blog’s address is staying the same. Let me know if there are any glitches or shortcomings in the design so I can fix them.