A Child's Prayer

About a week ago, we were gathering for evening prayer like we do (almost) every night. Hubby started to pray, but Babyzilla would have none of it, very unlike him. Hubby asked him what was wrong.
He replied, "I do it."
"You want to say the prayer?"
"Yes"
"Okay."
"YAY!"
We all bowed our heads and folded our arms to listen to Babyzilla's prayer. "Deew Henlee Fadder. Tank oo fuh my famee. Bwess Daddy an Mommy an Mimi an mu bwudder. I wuv oo. Name o Jeesuhs Cwis. Ahmeh."
Translation: Dear Heavenly Father. Thank you for my family. Bless Daddy and Mommy and Mimi and my brother. I love you. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

How perfect is that? That came right from his heart. Both good and bad, children learn from the example of the adults around them. I'm so glad to know we're doing at least one thing right.

Cool Things Babyzilla Does: Month 7

Another month gone? It just doesn't seem possible that it's been 7 whole months since you came into the world. In some ways it's like you just got here and in others it's like you've always been part of our family.

Some things you do now that you're a big (and I do mean BIG) 7 month old:

• Wear size 24 month clothes
• Love to hit buttons
• Chew on EVERYTHING.
• Roll from back to tummy and tummy to back.
• Crawl... backwards. We'll work on that. You've managed to get stuck up the leg of the coffee table a number of times. You can't put your feet on the ground to rool out of it, but you can't crawl forward either. You just look up at Daa-ee and I with a pitiful "Help me!" look. It's hilarious! Yes, we come to the rescue.
• Drink out of Mama or Daddy's glass. We hold it and you sit away.
• Hold your own bottle. I'm sure you could have done that earlier if we didn't use glass bottles.
• Say even more words. "Hi Da-ee!" is very common. People can tell me that you don't know what you're saying all day long, but I don't believe it. You only say it when Daddy comes into the room or when he's on the phone. You know that people say "hi" when somebody walks into a room or talks on the phone.
• Sign more. You have developed your own sign for "Change my diaper." You pat your diaper and then pull on the crotch area. We ask if you want your diaper changed, you smile and giggle. You give the sign for "milk" when you want a bottle. I never taught you that. I did the milk sign when I went to nurse you, but never for a bottle. I guess liquid food is all the same in your eyes.
• You love to grab hair and earrings. We're working on that. We don't get mad. You're a baby. You don't know that it hurts. But, we made a sign for "let go." It works really well.

You get cuter and smarter every day. Daddy and I can't wait to see what the next month has in store!

Sugar-free Applesauce Spice Cake a.k.a. Babyzilla's future birthday cake

Applesauce Spice Cake
3 eggs
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 cup unsweetened applesauce
1 1/4 cup frozen apple juice concentrate, thawed
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
dash of nutmeg
1/2 cup chopped dates
1 1/2 cups ground almonds (optional)
2 Macintosh apples - peeled, cored and finely chopped
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease and flour one 9 inch square baking pan.
Beat the eggs until they drop like ribbons from the beaters. Continue beating and add the oil in a thin stream. Beat in the 1 cup applesauce and the 1 cup unsweetened apple juice concentrate then mix in the flour gradually until well blended. Add the baking soda, ground ginger, ground almonds and apples. Fold together until well mixed.
Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake at 350 degrees F about 40 minutes or until the cake tests clean with a knife or toothpick. Cool completely before frosting.

Cool Things Babyzilla Does: Month 6

Dear Babyzilla,
     Daddy and I are constantly amazed by you! We've decided to throw out the books since you've decided to ignore what they say. I find myself writing letters to you via my Facebook status:

• Dear Babyzilla,
  You are not even 6 months old. You CANNOT understand the concept of object permanence. Therefore, you aren't supposed to ask for your "Da-da-da-da-da" (Daddy) when he's not in the room. Same goes for "Mmmmm boo" (Mr. Blue, your blue elephant). Seriously kid, they don't exist to you unless you can see them. Read a child psychology book.
  Love,
  Mama

You've learned some new tricks this month:

• You roll onto your belly all the time. However, you hate to stay there.
• You can sit up by yourself for about 15 secinds.
• You climb (sort of) over Daddy's arm to get to a toy you want, even if it's partially hidden.
• Daddy and I decided it was time to introduce you to a sippy cup. We just wanted you to get aquainted with it so it wouldn't be weird when we transition from the bottle. You figured it out in 2 weeks! The thing I love about the sippies that Daddy found is that they're trainer cups that teach you to drink rather than being an extension of the bottle. If you suck like you would with a bottle, they don't work. Such a big kid!
• When the phone rings, you say "Ha-woe." (Hello)
• You tell Daddy "Hi" or "Hey" whenever he comes home. Do you know what you're saying? Probably not, but it's still really cool.

At your 6 month check-up you were 29 inches long and weighed 20 pounds 1 ounce. You're down to the 100th percentile on height. Yes, down to 100th percentile. Your head, however, is coming in dead center of normal. Weird.

Your 6 month birthday present was 4 Thirsties Duo Diapers for you to use at Mimi's house. You are finally a 100% cloth diaper baby. YAY!

Being super cute and super smart is a hard job. Keep up the good work.
Love,
Mama

Cool things Babyzilla Does: Month 5

Dear Babyzilla,
Oh my goodness! My baby is growing up so fast! In some ways it's awesome, but in other ways is stinks worse than your poopy diapers.

Cool things you do:

• Giggle. Oh, it's the best sound ever! Apparently you find Mama and Daddy very funny.
• You hang out in your crib in the morning until 7:30-8. Mama really appreciates the sleep!
• You love talking to that handsome baby that lives in your mirror.
• You get all excited when you see "Daaa-eeee" in the morning.
• When you're on your back, you try so hard to sit up. You've developed quite the baby six-pack from all of those crunches. Rolling over is of no interest to you. You proved that you can do it already, but you seem to feel that rolling over is below your level now, Mr. High and Mighty.
• Sometimes, when you're struggling to sit up, and you try SO hard, I hold out my hand. You grab my fingers and pull yourself into a sitting position. You are so pleased with yourself. I'm always amazed that your face can hold a smile that big.
• Scoot. Even though you're too cool for rolling over, Mama still insists you get tummy time just in case you decide to give it another go. Well, you're still not into rolling over, unless I flip you. You find that hilarious. When I flip you onto your belly, you get into a quasi-push up position and kick your legs. You've managed to move a few inches. Crawling is on the horizon!
• Eat! Oh how you enjoy eating! You love to take Mama's or Daddy's hand and feed yourself. It's all you kid. We just help with aim.
• Help Mama change your diaper and/or clothes. When I get your onsie over your head, you do a crunch so I can get to the onsie. You don't go down until I put the dirty onsie in the hamper and say, "Thank you." When I'm changing your diaper, you grab your feet and present your seat. You're very good at keeping your feet out of your poopie. When I get your diaper ready, you lift your tushie into the air back-bend style so I can slide the diaper under. Smarty pants!
• Bounce. Oh my goodness how you love to bounce. At home, you have a "Johnny jump up," as Grandma calls it, and at Mimi's you have a horse that is kind of the same thing but without being suspended from a door frame. You LOVE that horse! Sometimes we turn on the sounds. It plays "She'll Be Comin' 'Round the Mountain" and "William Tell Overture" and says "Yeeee-haw!" You really like the "Yeeee-haw!" As a mater of fact, there's some debate as to whether or not "Yeeee-haw!" was your first word. When you're on some body's knee, you rock back and forth like you're riding your horse still. Too cute!
• Try to speak. You imitate sounds all the time. I'll say something like "hand" and you'll grab my hand and say "haaan." Once is a coincidence, Twice is cute, but you've done that 5 times in the past week. That's not normal for a baby your age. You're freaking me out, kid. (In a good way.)
• Ask for your favorite toys. Mr. Blue (your blue elephant) is your BPF (best pachyderm forever). You always want him by your side, especially if we're in the car. Mr. Blue (or "mmmmmmm buuuu" as you call him) chases away your grumpy side, so I'm all for him. You also love to hold your cloth diapers. Daddy and I thought we'd packed up your smaller ones, but apparently we missed one. You found it and now you take it everywhere. You don't have a name for it, but you reach for it all the time. Even though it's not a toy, per se, you do love your bottles (or "baaaaaaaAAAaaa" in Babyzilla-ese).

Well, little man, I'm sure I've forgotten some things, but that's a glimpse of how adorable you are right now.
Love,
Mama

Birth Story

Spoiler Alert : I gave birth to a healthy baby boy via c-section.

Let me start by saying that nothing went according to plan. NOTHING. That doesn't mean I love my son any less. My feelings about my birth and my feelings about my son are not the same thing. I can be thrilled beyond all description that my son is here and healthy and still think it sucks that he came into this world that way. I don't expect most people to get that. I guess you have to have lived it.

Anyway, my plan was this:

• Go to the best OB in town with the lowest c/s rate in the area. (Check)
• Be informed about my options and rights when it comes to interventions. (Check)
• Have a flexible birth plan based on having as few interventions as necessary. (Check)
• Prepare mentally, physically, and emotionally for a natural vaginal birth. (Childbirth education, various relaxation methods learned from the Internet... Check)
• Create a birth environment with minimal stress. (Low lights, few people, soft music)
• Have OB and hubby on board with said plan. (Check)

This was all for the sake of breastfeeding. There is no debate; breast milk is far superior to formula. Period. The few interventions, the greater the likelihood of success for exclusive breastfeeding.

From 16 weeks on, I measured 2-3 weeks ahead of date.
December 14, 2010. Parking lot after registration. First contractions. Very mild.

December 15 2010- January 9, 2010 Have contractions every day. Trying everything imaginable (except castor oil) to get labor going. Small success with "labor induction cookies" in late December. Contractions lasted for about 4 hours then went away.

Monday, January 10, 2011
I wake up with contractions about 5 minutes apart. At 9 a.m.We go to the hospital because that's what you do at 5 minutes apart. We get hooked up to the monitor. Baby's doing well. Contractions aren't very strong. The nurse "can't find" my cervix. She proceeds to shove her fingers up me like a sock puppet. IT HURT! Even though she "can't find" my cervix, she declares me 2 cm and tells us to walk for two hours. We walk and walk. We call my mom and let her know what's going on. We walk some more. Nurse checks again. She "can't find it" but I'm "still 2 cm." We get sent home. I'm ticked and sore. I contract all day. I try to sleep.

11 p.m. We're at my mother-in-law's. Contractions have been coming on stronger but nothing crazy. 2 minutes apart. She advises we go to the hospital. Hubby and I drive around for a bit to kill time. We get to the hospital around 11:45. We get hooked up to the monitor again. Baby's fine. I get checked again. 2 cm. We get told to walk for 2 hours and then they'll check again.

1:30 a.m. We're walking and walking. Out of nowhere, my contractions stop dead. Not slow down. Stop. From every two minutes to nothing. I tell the nurse what happened. My next OB appointment is 12 hours later, so we get sent home. Best night's sleep I'd had in weeks.

Tuesday January 11, 2010
We go to my OB. We get an ultrasound. The estimated size of baby is 9 pounds 11 oz. At this point my OB is "legally required to offer a c-section." She does so reluctantly. Ummm... knife? My baby? No thanks. However, baby is getting bigger everyday (I'm eating over 3000 calories a day and not gaining weight) and needs to come out sooner than later. We schedule an induction for 7:00 a.m. the next day. My mom comes up that night.

Wednesday January 12,2010 7:05 a.m.
We're late for our induction appointment! ARG! Well, as it turns out, that's okay because every pregnant woman in our city went into labor the night before and every bed was full. (They'd called earlier, but we couldn't hear the phone ring in our room and my mom didn't pick it up because she didn't want to "invade our privacy" by answering our phone. ) They tell us to go home and they'll call us when we can come back. We wait all day. I'm stresses beyond stressed. This is NOT how my labor is supposed to be, dang it! I'm the first one to snap. (I blame the hormones.) Then Hubby kind of looses it. Mom breaks about 4 hours later as we're sitting around the table playing cards and stress eating everything in the house. We all start laughing for no reason, and it didn't stop. I swear, if you walked in at that moment, you'd swear we were drunk.

5:30 p.m. We get a call from the hospital. Induction isn't going to happen that day. We reschedule for the next morning. We watch The Sword in the Stone  to pass time. More stress eating.

Thursday January 13, 2011
My mom wakes me up to tell me the hospital called. No reason to come in. Another rush of pregnant ladies came in overnight. More waiting. I cry. I just know something bad is going to happen! No. No. No. We're going to get me to go into labor. More attempts. No go.

5:00 p.m. Dave went somewhere with his mother and of course, we get a phone call from the hospital. Come on in! Typical, right? Good thing he wasn't far away.
5:15 p.m. We're admitted. I change into the hospital gown. I immediately begin to itch. Guess who's got sensitive skin and having an allergic reaction? (Hint: ME!) I change back into the undershirt I was wearing. The doctor comes in and explains what's going to happen. I'll be stuck on every beeping machine they have. In my head I hear all the reasons you're supposed to avoid that stuff. But I'm being induced and it comes with the territory. (Maybe induction wasn't such a good idea? But, of course, I never said that out loud.) The most awesome nurse says to me, "You wanted to do this naturally, didn't you?"
"How'd you know?"
"Because you look like you're about to cry."
"This just isn't how it was supposed to be."
"I know the feeling. But you're here now and I promise I'll do everything I can to make this as close to what you wanted. Dare I ask your preferences on pain management?" We giggled.
"Don't offer it to me unless I threaten your life." :)

5:45-ish Pitocin is started. They tell me to try to get some rest. My MIL goes home and my husband and mom lay down on the cot and bed-chair thing. I stare off at the wall and cry a little.

5:55 I feel a cold, wet spray. It tastes salty. I scream for my mom. I'd managed to pull my IV out of my hand. It's dark. My mom feels it, but doesn't notice the cold. She thinks I'm bleeding out. (It's actually kind of funny in retrospect.) We call a nurse. She has to re-stick me. She tries my left hand. Nope. Tries my left wrist. (OUCH!) No good. She tries my right wrist. (Again, OUCH!) We got it! It's taped in good. We're sent back to bed.

6:00-ish Hello contractions! It hurts but nothing crazy. I wanted out of that bed, though. I call my mom over to help me with the IV line. I get on the ball and breathe. My mom rubs my back.

The next few hours are blurs of increasing pain, me demanding my mom put hot packs on my lower back and trips from the birthing ball to the toilet. (I peed 6 or 7 times that night.) The "breathing techniques" we learned in childbirth education class did squat. My mom taught me Lamaze breathing while I was IN LABOR. About midnight the contractions got INTENSE, one right after the other. I thought I was going to die. The line that shows the strength of the contractions on the monitor was peeking out at the very top. At one point, I turned to my mom and asked why the h-e-double toothpicks I hadn't just had the stupid c-section. Her response was exactly what I needed. "Don't think about that. You need to focus on the now. Not the past or the future. Just worry about right now, and right now, you're doing awesome."

Around 3 a.m. I realized that my contractions weren't doing anything. I could tell that the baby wasn't lower. I had to shake that thought out of my head. I didn't have time. I had breathing to do. All I can do is pray and visualize my cervix opening and breathe.

5:30 a.m. I make a deal with my cervix. If it will just dilate to 6 cm, I can handle the rest naturally. If it can only dilate to 3 or 4 cm, I'll wuss out and get the epidural. "You can do it," my mind tells my cervix." You can open another centimeter before you get checked at 7."

7:30 a.m. (Friday) I get checked. Still 2 cm, and I'm less effaced than 12 hours prior. I'm broken. I'd break down and cry but I'm too busy breathing through contractions. "Cut me," I think. One centimeter! My cervix couldn't open one centimeter?! Seriously?! The doctor says that they could break my water and see if that will help. Maybe put an internal monitor in and see what's going on. "What's the point," I think. "I've failed. Just cut me." I tell him, "No, it's time." The nurse stops the Pitocin. I want everybody out except my husband. I cry. We pray together.

The nurse and our moms come back in. The Pitocin stops. I contract for another half hour or so. I sign the forms. There's a woman ahead of us in the OR, so we wait. I get a shower and get prepped for surgery. I put on the happy face. Yay, my baby's being born. It's a facade. I'm devastated... inside.

11:15 a.m. I walk to the OR. The scrub nurses are prepping everything. I get the epidural and go numb, physically and emotionally. As I lay on the table, I look around and begin to see everything in terms of "That shouldn't be that way." The bright lights should be dimmed; the beeping machines should be soft music and encouraging words; the body, numb from the chest down, should be up and moving to facilitate labor and instead of lying on my back, I should be up, squatting or on my hands and knees pushing my child out. It's all wrong!

11:49 a.m. My son is born via c-section. He poops on the doctor and pees on the nurse. They show him to me over the curtain. He weighs in at 10 pounds 6 oz. and 21 inches long. I'm given some drug and I fall asleep while they stitch me up. I see my son in recovery, but I'm really drugged up and don't remember much of the next 3 days. I found out later that Hubby was with him in the nursery for an hour because he had breathing trouble.

Maybe a c-section is how Babyzilla needed to come into this world. Maybe he wouldn't have been able to handle a vaginal birth. Maybe he would have been fine if we'd waited for labor to start on its own again. Maybe I have nobody to blame but myself. I don't have the answers to that, but I do know that having that c-section changed me forever.