Sorting The Baby Stuff

Ears and Hands and Sleep

Around noon each day I climb in bed with my almost four-year old son, Colin, and we take a nap. There is ritual about it: washing hands, brushing teeth, pulling the curtain shut...the room-darkening fabric the curtains are lined with give it a cave-like feel.  We get under the covers and as soon as my head hits the pillow he says, "Will you please hold me, mama?" I sling my arm out and he nestles in and says, "Tell me what we did today."  After a few minutes of chit chat he declares, "hugs and kisses", I lay still and respond "Ok, hugs and kisses" and he says "NO, do it!"  So we hug tight and smooch and I reclaim my arm by rolling away to commence napping.  

Then his little fingers reach out and start touching my ear.  

It sounds strange - it is strange - but when he stopped nursing at 16 months or so he started this ear thing.  He prefers my ears, but will will fiddle with his own if he can't reach mine (like if we're in the car).  Its his 'tell' when it comes to him being tired - he can't help himself.  He has another thing he does when he's tired: he rubs the tips of my fingernails.  He's much less discriminating on this one - any grown up with fingers around him when he gets tired is fair game.  So after a bit of time fiddling with my ear at nap he'll say, "All done with your ears.  Hand-y please."  I toss my hand over my shoulder and he rubs/picks at my fingers for a few moments and then I hear "all done hand-y." After all of this, and lots exchanges of "I love you" we fall asleep.  And we sleep and sleep.  Never less than an hour and a half, but usually more like two and half to three hours, his knees in my back the entire time.  

In case you can't tell, this is my favorite time of day. Since I have a 10 month old with big-time sleeping issues (up to nurse every 2-3 hours) I NEED the rest during the day, so that's one reason I love it.  But more than that, I adore the simple, quiet time with Colin.  It's our reset button, separately and together.  All the pre and post lunch fussiness is forgiven after a good nap, and we have a fresh start.  Because my husband has been off work since August, he has kept baby Toby during this afternoon nap ritual, so this has been the one time each day when Colin and I knew I wouldn't be called away to go do something with/for the baby.  I was relieved to be 'off duty' and I think Colin has enjoyed having that time just for him and me.  

BUT... my husband got a job in Dallas, and he leaves Sunday morning.  The boys and I are planning to stay here in St Louis with my mother in law until school is out because I really don't want to pull Colin out of his preschool.*  There are something like 50 school days left (he goes 4 days a week) and he is enjoying it so much and learning ... everything.

So, tomorrow is my last nap with Colin.  At least the last one of this configuration.  Baby Toby doesn't generally sleep at the same time as Colin, so I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to get him down for nap. I'll figure something out, and may ask for help on that here later, but for now I need to just get out in this post how sad I am that this precious time for Colin and me is almost over.  I get that I have been SUPREMELY lucky to have had this opportunity all these years.  I know many of you reading this would do anything to have the chance to nap everyday, let alone be snuggie with your wee one at the same time. I know its an extravagance. All the same, I'm going to miss it terribly.  

*We'll see how long I can hold out.  I've got lots of good reasons to stay, but a girl can only take so much.  

I Told Him

I told my husband ...

 That it seems we barely talk.

That it feels like we are just job-sharing the kids.

That its hard for me to tease apart his dis-satisfaction with life from what feels like his dis-satisfaction with me.

That it would be really sucky if our marriage fell apart while I'm living in his mother's house.  

That I thought counseling would be a good idea.

That when I look at many of the other marriages in my life I see adoration, and I don't think we adore each other.  I don't feel that I adore him, and I don't think he adores me or anyone else - that's just not his personality.

That it really hurt my feelings when, after Toby and I were out of town all last week, he came upstairs to greet me when I returned home and within 10 minutes said "Well, I'm going to go back down and finish the movie I was watching." Literally, all my stuff was still in the car.

That the word divorce enters my mind every day.

And then we rolled over and went to sleep, he said very little in response.  The conversation was days ago.  Its never been mentioned since.   

 

I did not tell my husband...

That I have decided that, at least for now, no amount of me being lonely is worth my kids having divorced parents.  So I'm going to find a way to get satisfied with what I've got and hang on.  I can't change who he is fundamentally anymore than I can change my cat into a dog.  But I can change my expectations.

That I don't feel safe bringing up these issues with him because I fear he won't allow for a process of working things out - you're either all in or all out.

That although I know she was crazy, I can see how he played a role in his divorce from his first wife.  

I also did not tell him that tomorrow is Adam's birthday because I SHOULDN'T FUCKING HAVE TO. 

He's Got the Blues

I'm not planning to take the time to try to compose a piece of writing here, just going to get all the thoughts out and you can imagine that its wonderful prose.  

This morning I was giving my husband a hard time about not smiling and he told me he didn't have much to smile about.  WHAT?? We are healthy and together and alive. We have two wonderful sons.  We are not in Afghanistan.*  

Further discussion brings out that he feel like he hasn't been really happy since he stopped working at the company where he and I met (another downsizing).  Folks that was 3 years ago.  He hasn't been happy for three years?  Oy.  Of course this is daytime, work-related unhappiness, but you all know it transfers itself to the home - how could it not?  

One of the ways that his unhappiness is coming to the home is that some days we hardly talk to one another.  Not in a haughty fighting sort of way, just in a 'I'm doing this with this kid you do that with that kid' kind of way.  But geeze, that can't be good.  It's hard that we are living in his mom's tiny little house, so private conversations are rare.  Plus there is always an extra adult around (his mom), plus an 11 year old niece that is here after school each day.   We can't discuss something as it comes up - we have to wait until night and whisper it, and frankly by then we've forgotten it - or I have.  Because let's be real, he's never been upset with me about something and then brought it up later - he doesn't bring up stuff to talk about, its always me.  so nothing gets discussed.  In some ways that can actually be good - bullshit doesn't get blown into big stuff.  But geeze.  

I told him today that it seems we are together more than ever, yet somedays we hardly speak and he said "Yup."  That doesn't sound healthy.  I told him that.  That not speaking/communicating is how marriages end.  That I don't think our marriage is in jeopardy, but maybe some marriage counseling would be a good idea - we certainly have the time.

He sees blockades and I see possibilites.  Its a major role reversal.  I asked if he thought depression meds would help him, but he doesn't, and I have to agree with him - his deal seems situational.     

Worse yet, he is already singing the blues about his new job - the job we will get someday, because most everything he's got his name in for is in BFE.  Seriously, one is 1,000 miles north of the Canadian border, and another is in a town of 1,500 - the next closest town is 4 something like four hours away.  

My husband is not gloomy gus - that is not who he is fundamentally.  I certainly expected this move to be harder on me that him, but for the third time now, I'm finding my way and doing okay, and he's struggling.  Yeah me.  But, oh, my husband.    

* And this is how you know that I have blessedly (at lease not in these first 7 months) not been stricken with postpartum depression after Toby like I was after Colin.  I don't think I would've been so able to find the light and the things to be grateful for if I was depressed.  Plus, I'm not gripped with that... you know, that ugly darkness.    

We Are Alive

But we've moved.  My husband got laid off in August and since the lease on the house we were renting in Baton Rouge was up in November, we moved away.  It only made sense for us to go near the grandparents, and my MIL's house is slightly bigger than my parents' home, so we've moved in with my Mother in Law.

Lemme give you a moment to process that.

Uh-huh.  Yup.  Me, husband, 3.5 year old, 7 month old and 2 cats, moved into 1400 sq ft home in St Louis with MIL, her dog and her (loud) bird.  Oh my.  My husband was miserable at his job, and hated Baton Rouge, so leaving there wasn't a big deal.  We didn't move here out of necessity - we've got significant savings, but we want to preserve those savings for as long as possible.

Colin ADORES his new preschool here, which is really saying something because he cried all but 4 times when we dropped him off at his school in Baton Rouge.  Now he runs out the door in the morning.  

But there is no privacy.  None.  Things irritate me and I have no way to vent to anyone.  There is nowhere in this house that I can go use the phone and not have someone hear me.  Or worse, if I call at night there is nowhere I can talk and not awaken someone.  So I just keep everything to myself mostly.  People call and ask how its going and I say "Fine" because I have no choice...I'm not going to talk bad about people right in front of them.  I can have quick conversations if I run and errand, but there aren't many of those for me to head out on.  The other day I went to a Le Leche meeting partly because I just needed a reason to leave.   And now I'm on the computer after everyone else has gone to bed trying to restart this blog, if anyone is still reading.  

I'm not spell checking or anything - am still up nursing baby Toby several times a night, so I'm heading to sleep while he's asleep 'cuz his dinner bell is going to ring soon enough.  

Baby Born ...

...two weeks ago today (36w 6.75d).  Emergency c-section, apgars were a very scary 1 and 5, so baby was in NICU for a day, then transitional nursery for two days, but got to come home with us!  I am about 60% done typing up birth story, will post when finished.  

Toby Lee Johnson 

19 inches, 5lb 3 oz

 

Doing Well

Things are looking better and better.      

After reading the comments left here and talking to a friend who happens to be a psychologist as well as talking to a social worker at the hospital, I think we all agree: its PTSD (props to Julia - she told me to look for a counselor who dealt with PTSD 4 years ago...that girl has been there and done that and saw the train acomin' for me).  In fact, one person I spoke with said that its possible the PPD symptoms I had after Colin was born could actually have been PTSD as well.  After all, my first (and strongest) experience with the immediate postpartum period was one of intense grief.  Why wouldn't my mind/body/psyche have expected things to be just as bad the second time around?  

And instead of ignoring it, I have decided to deal with it.  I've got an appointment with a psychologist, who appears to be covered by our crappy insurance and has prescriptive authority, so I don't have to go to two different docs: one for counseling and one for meds.  Now we just have to cross our fingers that the two of us can work well together AND that I can see her before this baby is born - my appointment is for just 10 days before my due date, but they have me on a cancellation list, so, fingers crossed...  

I also talked to my doc about it again at yesterday's appointment.  His response was "Yeah, I knew it was PTSD last week, but figured you didn't need a label."  Huh?  I don't know if its just me he's treating this way or if he's like this with all patients, but he's pretty close-mouthed ... about everything.  I do like him, and he appears to be taking me seriously, even if he's not as forth-coming with info or as proactive as I'd like (for instance, he could have suggested counseling himself if he thought PTSD was the deal.)  He did put a note on my file about the two triggers* I'm aware of, in hopes that it would help the nurses take my requests seriously.

The result of all this is this is that I am feeling much better about things as each day passes.  I am still in no hurry to have this baby.  In fact, I told the doc yesterday that I had heard his practice didn't let women go past 41 weeks and I was wondering if that was true.  His response was that he couldn't remember the last time a patient had willingly gone to 41 weeks, and he didn't recommend it.  Oy...this sounds like a doc that likes to induce.  We'll cross that bridge in a few weeks, I'm just at 35w 4d now, so I'm thinking (hoping!) we've got time.    

* One trigger is the whole paper gown thing, which is explained at the bottom of this post.  The other one I am aware of is having the heartbeat monitor turned up too loud during labor.  When we were in labor with Adam we had no monitors because we all knew he'd be stillborn.  But they had the monitor turned up really loud on the woman in the next room.  I remember laying there just listening to that beat beat beat beat beat beat beat, and, as a consequence, I hate that sound now.  Also, this is not a trigger, but I did share with the doctor something I only told my husband last week: all brand newborn sleeping babies look dead to me.  I know they are not dead, it doesn't panic me or anything, I just look at them and think 'they look dead'.  Hope you all don't think I'm bananas.

Oh, and thanks to Duchess.  Her example of advocating for herself to the docs and nurses caring for her during Claire's birth gave the the courage to start trying to do the same.  (Yes, I know the birth story isn't there yet, give it time, lots of time, her hands are very full.  I only know the details because I was lucky enough to talk to her on the phone.)  

Hanging In There

We did go back for the 'parents only' hospital tour on Sunday, but beforehand I had a chance to tell the nurses leading the tour a smidgen about our history and what had happened the day before.  I thought things were fine, but then as I stepped into a very frigid labor/delivery suite it suddenly looked like heat waves were coming up from the floor - everything was wiggling, so I backed out of there fast.  I stood just outside the door of the suites for the rest of the tour with my back turned away so I couldn't see in, but I could still hear the information.  

I also had a good talk with my husband Saturday night about what all had happened and how I was feeling. He doesn't get it at all really, but he tries to be as supportive as he can be in his way.  It felt good to get it out, and to kind of share the burden with the other person who will be there with me at the time this baby is delivered.  

I took another big step too: I talked to the doctor about PPD and what happened this weekend at my appointment today.  As for PPD, he said there's about a 50/50 chance I'll get it again, and what he usually does is prescribe drugs from the moment the baby is born, just to head it off.  He also said that my reaction this weekend was understandable, that Adam's birth was probably the single most emotional event of my life and it only makes sense for any other major emotional event (like the birth of a new baby, in very similar surroundings) to intersect with that.  He said its normal, and really is a sign of mental health, that everything in my brain is connecting an clicking along like it should be.  He also said the hospital has social workers and whatnot available if I'm having issues while I'm there.  

So, I did some good JDE housekeeping today, and I'm feeling okay about stuff, at least for the moment.  And Lala, I think you were right on your comment on my last post, it probably is PTSD, and if I thought there was any chance I'd ever be pregnant again, I'd look into dealing with it.  But, since I don't plan to ever be in this position again, I'm just going to get through this bout and move on.  

Not My Best Day

Took Colin to a little "I'm having a sibling" class at the hospital this morning.  Since we just moved to Baton Rouge in January, this was our first time to see the hospital at which we will be delivering As Yet Unnamed New Baby.  Part of the class included a mini-tour of the hospital.  And just like three years ago, when we toured the hospital for Colin's birth, I lost it.  I'm not sure I can even tell you exactly why, but I'm guessing its a combination of Adam stuff and anxiety about this upcoming birth.

By the time I turned around to tell my husband I was having a hard time, tears were streaming down my face.  I could tell something was welling up as I got the sweats in the post-birth suite we were touring.  In fact, I actually kinda stood outside the room, mostly because it was full, but I knew something wasn't right.  All I kept thinking about was Adam's birth, which is weird...why wouldn't that experience in one of these kinds of rooms be replaced with the joyful event of Colin's birth?  I almost felt chased down...hunted by those memories.  And the thing is, I actually remember feeling good things in the moments after Adam's birth (of course, that was before I felt the intenseness of the grief).

Unfortunately, we have a parents only tour of the hospital scheduled for tomorrow.  I feel like I need the information that will be given to us at that tour, because we really have no idea what all to expect at this place,* but the thought of another 45 minutes in that situation is suffocating me.   

*We did learn one thing today: after they bathe the baby for the first time they put them in a paper gown.  That screams DEAD BABY to me.  No other baby of mine can be in a paper gown.  I never saw Adam in one, but the nurse told me that's what they'd put him in after they took off his little outfit to give it to us.  I would have never thought to bring any baby clothes other than a going home outfit, but I'll pack him a whole mess of clothes now.     

Peace of Mind Appointment

Yesterday at lunch I realized I hadn't felt this baby move much.  And I noticed that again yesterday evening.  So  I went to bed and slept well.  And when I awakened this morning I realized the baby hadn't awakened me with his usually active I-like-the-nightlife-I-like-to-boogie behavior all night.  But I didn't freak, I just thought maybe I'd call the doctor this afternoon if things hadn't kicked up by then.  And breakfast came and went, and Colin and I got dressed and ready to go what he calls the 'bookstory' (Barnes and Noble).  I had had tried drinking juice, and I had tried poking him and awaiting a kick in response, but got nothing.  And little by little I worked up a bit of froth over the matter, so I called the doctor and got in at 11.  

I felt like a jackass when I thought I finally felt a flutter as the nurse was taking my blood pressure.  And even more so when the doctor did the doptone and said all that noise other than the heartbeat (155bpm) was movement and couldn't I feel that?  Nope.  So he sent me for an ultrasound, which showed everything to be just perfect, and lots and lots of movement.  Except I have a lot of amniotic fluid, which could be cushioning the blows.  Not so much as to be worried about, just on the high side of normal.  Which was kind of a relief to hear for two reasons: one, a possible explanation for why I'm not feeling the baby move and two, a possible explanation for why I have gained so much weight.  I think I'm gaining water all over the place, not just my belly.  My maternity clothes from Colin barely fit anymore, and I still have two months left.  I was on bed rest at this point with Colin and therefore wasn't burning near the calories I am now, and I'm also eating healthier than I did with Colin, yet I have gained 49 pounds, which is just entirely unlike me.       

So, it all turned out just fine, and I have a regularly scheduled appointment on Tuesday.  I think I should get a trophy for going in today.  Its not something I would have normally done, but I decided that if any of you told me this tale, I'd tell you to call the doc asap, so I followed my own advice.     

PTSD

I swear, I think I have OB appointment PTSD.  I think I'm afraid they're going to put me in the hospital.  There is nothing wrong - the contractions I was having before have settled down considerably - in fact I don't think I realized just how frequent they were until they went away.  And now I can distinguish between baby moving and a contraction much better.  But I still can't shake the feeling of impending doom - that just like with Colin, I will go for a regular appointment and wham-o, be blindsided and hospitalized and the earth will turn upside down and things will start spinning and ... you get the picture.  I'm irritable and don't sleep well the nights before appointments.  I sweat this strong smelling fear-sweat on the way to the appointment – the car smells like it by the time I get there.  Crazy as it sounds, I made sure my toiletry bag was ready in case my husband had to bring it to me the day of my last appointment.  And a few hours after I got home I realized how much of a burden of this worry I had been hauling around.  This is not the sanest behavior.  I'm having no symptoms, what the hell is my problem? 

I think it’s possible that I'm projecting all my other fears and anxieties onto this appointment issue.  Here they are:

•                Someone from church has volunteered to take Colin for the 8 hours or so it will take my brother to drive here.  He'll keep Colin until we get home from the hospital, then he'll head back to his home.  We'll have a few days just the 4 of us, then my mother in law will come for 2-3 weeks.  But how do I know when it’s REALLY labor?  I didn't have it with Colin - leaked amniotic fluid for three days and therefore was induced.  And this time, knowing when it’s the right time really matters.  I just know I’m going to have false alarms, and I’d hate to get my brother started driving here just to turn him back.  And what to I tell Colin when we take him to the church-lady’s?  “Mommy will be gone for a few days…or a few hours, who knows which?” *

•                I’m mostly afraid I’ll pull the trigger too soon because I WANT PAIN RELIEF.  I had it, eventually, with Colin, but my cervix tore and I’m relatively certain I felt that happen and really, I just don’t want to live through that again.  In fact, even if what I felt wasn’t my cervix tearing, but were just regular (pitocin-induced) contractions getting worse, I still really really don’t want that experience again.  I feel like I’ve never had a baby before, like I’m brand new at this thing, because really, in terms of starting labor, I haven’t done that yet, not the traditional ‘in the movies’ way.

•                I’m anxious that the post partum depression will come back.  Other than my OB, I have no general doctor here, and no prospects yet.  We found a ped for Colin and a general doctor for my husband, but he’s a real young guy.  This is closed minded of me, but I just don’t expect a male doctor to ‘get’ PPD.  Tell me I’m wrong, please.  I think at my next appointment I will mention to my OB (also a guy) that I had PPD last time and I’m wondering what if any resources are in the area in case those clouds roll back in and stay.

•                As I was with Colin, I am anxious about how I’m going to keep my head above water, only this time, with two critters.  WHAT THE FORK WERE WE THINKING?  Getting laundry done, maybe.  But dinner? Ha.  What if I lose my mind when my mother in law gets ready to leave? (Okay, actually my husband is taking that week following her departure off work, but what if I lose my mind when he goes back?) I mean we are talking about everyday of the next few years, just me and the kid(s) except dinner time.  What if i run out of energy, ideas, patience?  Sorry to those of you going this mother thing alone.        

•                There is more, but I want to get this posted before Colin wakes up from his nap. 

* My anxieties about dropping Colin off are another post entirely.