Gracie Mena's birth story

So now that the little punk is 3 weeks old (yes, that old!) I figure it's time for me to finally write out her birth story. She's happily swinging in her swing for now, so hopefully I can get this all written out.

Starting on Wednesday (the 22d) I started getting some early labor signs. I had some show and some mucous the week before and Monday and Tuesday I was MAJORLY nesting, and those all popped up again on Wednesday, along with contractions. The contractions were definitely different, more in my back and more noticeable, but not regular or getting stronger (yet). I spent the day with Mom and Lauren, going shopping and walking a lot. Lauren kept trying to scare me into labor and she kept making me walk a lot but I doubt that really helped (sorry sister). I was exhausted by the end of the day though, so I went to bed pretty early.

Around 2 am I was awoken with way stronger contractions that I couldn't sleep through. I got out of bed after a while and prayed a rosary while I timed them. At around 3, I woke Chris up and he didn't quite get that it was time. It was actually pretty funny, cause I think he just thought I was uncomfortable and needed to go back to sleep. We left for the hospital around 4:30. I probably should have been more ready, but we spent about a half hour finishing packing my bag and getting everything together. That was a tough half hour for me, simply because my contractions really kicked it up to the point where I had to stand still and breathe through them.

We got to Oakwood and checked in at Triage in Labor and Delivery. They checked me, and if I remember correctly, I was about 2cm and she was a -1/2 which was crazy cause she definitely was a 0 earlier that week! They kept me under observance for a few hours and the midwife there had me walk around the floor to try and kickstart things. Well, that was all well and good cause the contractions got stronger, but I was in back labor so they were REALLY painful. We went back to the bed and she checked me. At this point it was probably about 7 and I was a 3/4. She said it would probably be a while and I could either go home or wait it out there with drugs for the pain. I was in a ton of pain then, so I opted for staying and getting some meds. They popped in my IV and got me ready to go to a labor and delivery room. Around 8 we got over there and Lauren and Mom arrived. When they came in, I was on the birthing ball (like one of those exercise balls, for those who don't know) and was just in a TON of pain. When they came in to check on me they asked if I wanted an epidural and I honestly felt like I had been offered a piece of heaven. They got me hooked up to that (it took a few tries, but me being a perfect patient, I dealt with it) and it started blissfully working super quickly.

I had wanted to go natural, but with the back labor I just couldn't take it. Well, I probably could have but it was very difficult and I didn't want to tire myself out too much before I needed to push (the irony of that will soon be seen).

Once the epidural was in, it was a pretty relaxing time where we watched the Ellen show and the Price is Right. In those couple hours, I dilated super fast, a couple centimeters the first hour and then from a 6 to a 10 in about an hour! At noon, I really started getting the urge to push, and since I was dilated enough, they let me just kinda go with the flow and do what I felt I should. I ended up pushing in a few different positions, on my side, my back (the c position), kneeling and whatnot. At this point, my memory doesn't have much, it was a bit of a blur because I pushed for 4 hours and 18 minutes. Apparently the epidural wore off a couple hours into pushing, but I didn't notice. All I remember was being extremely focused on pushing and trying to relax in between. Lauren, Mom and Chris were cracking jokes but laughing hurt too much and I didn't have the energy to respond (although I know I wanted to say "that's what she said" at one point).

There were some great doctors, and I had an amazing nurse, who really helped encourage me. I'm SO glad they didn't start mentioning a csection, cause I would have gotten so discouraged. Gracie's head was slightly turned, so that's why it took so long to push her down, but finally at 4:33, I managed to get the little punk out! I did have an episiotomy and some internal tearing, which has made recovery pretty tough.

It's weird for me though. I didn't cry when she was born (probably because I was so tired and relieved to finally see her) but now, just thinking about it makes me cry like I'm watching Baby Story. Mom always talks about her "Seven Moments" and now, I finally get it. After 38 weeks and 3 days of carrying around a precious cargo, that cargo was unloaded and now I've got to care for her. If any other person had put me through the pain I went through to get her into this world, I doubt I'd love them at all, but my little Gracie has all sorts of love, so much I can't even describe it. Being a mom is amazing, wonderful, difficult, trying, tiring, laughable. But it is soo worth it, especially when my little girl curls up on my chest and smiles in her sleep.

Grace Philomena has arrived!

Updates, including the full story of Gracie Mina's arrival, will happen, I promise, but for now, here's the stats!



Gracie got here on April 23 at 4:33pm after I had been at the hospital since 5am and had pushed for a whopping 4 hours and 18 minutes!
7lbs, 8 oz
19 inches long
9's on BOTH Apgar tests!

While the little punk is giving Mama some trouble with breastfeeding, she's otherwise doing wonderfully. Tons of hair, good at sleeping and she loves to be all swaddled up and cuddled.

More on her birth story to come!

Rise above it

Last night, I had a flying dream. Now, I'm a big believer in that a person's subconscious sorts through feelings and expresses them in dreams. Dreams often do have meaning. Sometimes it's just rehashing the day or looking at what's to come, sometimes our brain needs to sort through feelings and we have those dreams that are full of meaning. Now, flying dreams typically mean :

Something is generally going RIGHT in our lives! Occasionally, we may be flying to avoid something, but the flying in and of itself is still an enjoyable dream activity, and the WAY we do it may tell us more about ourselves than the actual flying. (http://www.mysticalblaze.com/DreamsFlying.htm)

So how was I flying? Well, from this site, the best description is this:

Flying or Floating at Low Altitudes: Floating just above the ground by flapping your hands or arms or peddling your feet is an indication that you have lots of determination and that no matter how hard it gets, you feel you will succeed if you stay on course. This dream is an indication that relief from any setbacks is imminent.

Hm, interesting, isn't it? In the dream, I was using my arms to fly. Generally, I can agree that I have determination and that set backs aren't going to t get to me. Now, in this dream, I was using my ability to fly in order to "get away" from some annoying people.

Interpreting a dream and figuring out exactly what it means can be difficult. We don't always get the clear cut "Joseph take your family off to Egypt now!" dream. But I think I kinda figured out what this dream meant.

While the annoying people in my dream were recognizable as some people in real life (in most cases) I don't think my dream meant that I'm getting away from those people. Rather, I think those people symbolized, in some way, aspects of myself. That I'm rising above my faults, my vices and trying to really work my way to something higher.

Last night, I had a good talk with my hubby (aren't those always nice?). To me, I've been in one of those spiritual deserts for quite some time. I just don't feel God there, not like I used to when I was in high school or my first year of college. Ever since my sister Celeste died, I've felt that I've been pulled away from God. For a time, even though I believed in the truth of faith and Catholicism, I really questioned it and pulled away interiorly. While I've had a bit of a "reversion" (not that I actually left the church) I still don't feel like I'm all the way there yet. I put my trust in God, yet I don't see the fruits of that (not that I'm promised that or anything). And I guess, I'm just a bit mad at God about that. Right now, I need to feel something. I need to feel healing in my soul. I need to feel His peace and love. And He's not giving it to me!

Yes, I know I sound like a selfish little kid asking for something that, perhaps, I don't even need. But I do have a bit of hope from my dream last night. Hopefully, the things that I'm rising above and working my way over are those things that are hindering me from recognizing how God is working in my life. Maybe, just maybe, with some determination and some strong arm flapping, I can get past my negativity and cynicism and depression and all those other awful things, and get a different view point. The Holy Spirit is often shown as a dove, a bird, someone with the ability to rise above and see the big picture. And hopefully, the Holy Spirit will lift me up and show me the big picture. And I don't need to go that high, low altitudes are ok by me.

Small Successes

So since I'm trying to write more, I guess this is a good "plot bunny" of sorts. I've been reading Kate Wicker's for some time now, and I figure I can participate too! (you know, since I'm 'technically' a mom). So here's my premiere edition of my weekly small successes.

1. Due to my fantastic personality, I'll be getting an hours boost at work. As my manager put it, the cafe supervisor "loves me so much, she's ready to propose". Keep in mind, I met the supervisor today. Yep, I'm just that magnificent.

2. All the clothes in my room are either folded, hung up or in the hamper. This is a huge accomplishment. Granted, Chris helped a GREAT deal, but I did have to sort through things and put some stuff away (but he did do most of it, I'll admit it).

3. I had a confrontational "conversation" with Chris and it did not involve either of us freaking out, crying and running into another room. So maybe I am getting better at communicating my frustrations to him in a loving, godly wife manner. I figure I have my whole life to practice, but it's good to make some progress (I figure I'll be less stressed if I get it sooner rather than later).

More small successes at Faith and Family Live!

Just like my mommy

Well, at least when it comes to writing and wanting to write and never finding time to write (she's better at that last one than I am). I think the majority of posts on this blog have been of the "Sorry I don't update!' variety, but that's okay. I will try to do better.

I'm 31 weeks pregnant now! HOLY MOLY. That means, if you recall that there are 40 weeks in pregnancy, that I am just 9 (yes, you read that right, NINE) short weeks away from my due date. It's amazing how fast everything has gone. And you know, my belly is just huge. That's pretty crazy too.

I've been thinking about how my mind feels like it's getting stagnant. I miss being in school because I was pretty much forced to be intellectual. If I want to be "smart" now, I have to make myself do it. So, basically, I want to kick myself in the butt and push myself and really keep expanding my mind. Or something like that.

So in this whole journey of the mind, I've pretty much decided that I want to be writing. But, as I said in my Facebook "25 Random Things About Me" note, I just don't know what to write! I know all sorts of things, I suppose, but I don't want to just write something cause I know it. I mean, I could write faith things, or theater things, or a memoir. I could just write in this blog (that probably wouldn't be a bad idea, actually). I guess part of my "fear" of starting a project is my habitual procrastination/laziness/forgetfulness combined with a feeling that I'm just not qualified. It's like, Mom can write about being a mom cause she's been doing it for 23 years. I, on the other hand, am a mom, yes, but I have yet to hold my child in my arms, our umbilical connection is the basis for my mom-hood. So I guess I feel that any of my thoughts on motherhood would be looked down on because I don't have enough "experience". Same goes for pretty much any other topic, except perhaps "evangelization through going on message boards and convincing no one of anything I believe in". I've spent a good 6 1/2 years doing that. That's "experience", right?

I guess I just want to do something great, fantastic, phantasmagorical to the average person. I want to leave a mark, tell my story, tell any story. I don't know where to start, and I suppose I should just pick something and start writing it. But there's fear and procrastination. And those two things are much more familiar to me and it's much easier to stay in that comfort zone.

So for now, I suppose I should just start writing about things in this blog. Maybe that will spark some ideas.

A little bit of hormonal frustration

So, I'm finally starting to "feel" pregnant. I'm still sick and tired (although not as much) but my uterus has finally risen out of it's deep dark recesses! Yep, instead of having to poke around in my abdomen to find it, you now just have to rub with a bit of pressure. It's terribly exciting and I can feel my body growing and changing every day, rather like how the Peanut's body is doing! It's all just so miraculous and wonderful that there's a big part of me that can barely comprehend it. And there's part of me that doesn't want to comprehend, I just want to sit here in awe and observe and experience it all.

Yes, now I feel like crying a little bit because of that. Just wait until I start feeling little flutters and kicks (I think I might be, but I'm still not sure).

On a more... frustrated hormonal note (and the point of this post) I'm really getting upset with the "gender wars" as I'm starting to call them. We had our first ultrasound just in Dr. Allen's office at my appointment this past Monday and while we saw a wonderful Peanut with a beating heart we did not see the "important" parts. Peanut decided to bunch up against the wall and tuck his/her legs up to hide the goods. We scheduled our big anatomy scan for December 1st. I'll be 18 weeks and considering how long and involved this ultrasound will be, I'm pretty confident that we'll see what gender this baby is.

What I'm getting really frustrated with though, is that pretty much everyone (and by everyone I mean people I see all the time, aka family) says that Peanut is a boy. Now, I really and honestly do not care. There are things I want with both genders, I want to dress up a little girl in all sorts of beautful clothes and I really would love to have my eldest be my little mini-me girlfriend (as I am with my Mom). But I know how to take care of boys, I have far more experience with them and would probably be more "comfortable with a son. And I know how much little boys love their mothers (not that little girls don't!) and I know I can not wait to have my own little Mama's boy. Whatever this baby is, I already love it and will be "disappointed" with the gender either way.

What's worrying me is that if this baby is a girl, that people (aka my siblings especially cause they are the really vocal ones on this issue) will be disappointed and wish it was a boy. I know this Peanut is loved, but I am scared that people are going to say they wish it was a boy.

Part of this too, is that I do want a girl. I always kinda wanted my first to be a girl, because I'm the first and I'm a girl. And if I say that, I'm afraid that if it is a boy, that people will be all "Oh I bet you're bummed" or "See, you were wrong! Why would you even hope for a girl!". I'm terrified of this, because my siblings know how to push my buttons and they know how to say things that really and truly hurt me (even if they don't mean to do so). I'm scared of this baby being a boy, because I'm afraid of what people will say to me. How weird is that?

I've always been the "sensitive" one to what my siblings do/say to me. I struggled with depression my whole life and I was not the easiest person to live with. I get along best (I think) with my two littlest brothers because they don't remember me as that person, rather they remember me as I am now, a better-adjusted woman who has learned how to cope (and hide) what I'm feeling (most of the time). As my mom has pointed out a lot, pregnancy has actually been very very good for my depression. It was always a more hormonal struggle (PMS was killer) and while hormones are raging, they are raging in a way that makes my emotions more even keel (most of the time). I have my moments (like while I'm typing up this post) but I haven't been "depressed". But I am still very very sensitive to what people say to me. My feelings can get hurt very easily and the "gender wars" are really getting to me. I honestly will be happy with either gender, but I'm scared of how I will respond. And I'm even more scared of how I will respond to other's responses.

So yeah. I guess there's not much I can do about all this, but to be honest. And I guess to encourage people to ask me what I want and then agree with me. It's never a good idea to disagree with a hormonal pregnant woman, right?

Looking back [because I felt like writing something]

Yes yes yes, I know, I don't update. I tend to fall into this habit with my blogs, I'll start one when I start a new era of life, and write a few things then it dies, then I try and revive it and then I suddenly start a new era, and thus a new blog. I did this with journals when I was young too, I never "finish" one, as soon as I got a new one (either as a gift or one that I thought was pretty looking) I would write in that one and forget all others. I even just got a notebook at the beginning of my senior year of high school and wrote in it like 4 times.

I relish going back and reading those things though. Heck, here's a quote from Christmas 2007 (found at one of my old blogs, pirandellian.livejournal.com).

Christmas is an interesting holiday, especially this year. For one, it's my very last Christmas as a single woman. Technically, I should have been married by now, but all things considered I'm glad we postponed the wedding. We're growing a lot and I'm realizing that one is never going to be truly ready to be married. Quite honestly, I've learned so much about Chris, myself and our relationship in the past year that I almost can't remember how we used to be. Unfortunately I'm being brutally reminded of the "old" days of long distance due to Christopher being in New Hampshire for this week. Frankly, it's awful. I wish that he was here so desperately that it's clear to me that I must marry the man that I can't help critiquing and getting annoyed with every day. And that is why people need to get married young. When you're 21 you're stupid enough to ignore the faults of someone just because you are desperately in love with them, even if the annoy the hell out of you.

Ah, the wisdom of youth (yeah, cause I was soooo much younger). And here's another, older one of quite a different tone (dating back to July 2004).

After the worst weekend in my life, in which I was attacked by demons of my own self-doubt, fear, and unbelief, I am now a shell of my former self. I don't know what to do anymore. I've lost all that was close to my heart, and am completely and totally dead on the inside. So this is the question, how am I supposed to go on? How am I supposed to lean on God, when I'm not even sure He's there? Is this some kind of Job crap, and I'm just supposed to give it up to God? Cause if it is, well then I failed. And right now, I just don't care. I just wish, that somehow, I can have something back. Something, anything.

Somehow, I think I remember what the situation was, but I do not remember exactly why I said the things I did.

It's funny, my only blog that went on for a significant length of time with posts pretty regular was probably during one of the best/worst times of my life. It was during my last semester of high school and I was just dealing with so much stuff. I had my first boyfriend, my first break-up, I started dating my now husband, I realized that maybe I should do great things in life (although I have a vastly different idea of what those great things should be now), I was very depressed and ecstatically happy (I bounced around a lot). I learned a lot about myself that semester. And looking back, I can see how God was working in my life.

On a different track, I'm a serial blog lurker. I rarely post comments, but I keep up with my mom's blog and her e-friend Kate's blog. Honestly, these two women are geniuses and I can only hope to be as smart and motherly and wonderful as they are (at least on their blogs ;)). I learn so much from the both of them about how to be a mom and about the things that are important. I'm not quite an "official" mom yet, but I already can see how what I think is expressed so clearly by the two of them.

Which brings me back to my musings on the past blogs. I went through a lot of hard times. A lot of things changed in me and a lot of thing changed me. I can only hope that my kids will be able to work through the challenges that face them in their lives. I don't want them to face things like major depression (like I did) but if that is the thing that God is going to use to work in them, then I am willing to be God's personal assistant in that. Not to fault anyone (especially you Mom) but I really felt very very alone when I was going through many of my darkest times. I know now that I wasn't, most of those times I had my Mom or more recently Chris, but I really want to make sure that my kids don't go through that. I want to be there for them and I really pray that God will allow me to do that.

On a less intellectual or philosophical note, I'm getting terribly excited and nervous for my upcoming doctor's appointment. I'm officially second trimester now and while my morning sickness is truly abating (I still have bad days, like today) I am having a lot of other... issues. Mainly just pain in my abs but that's pretty much normal and a lot easier to deal with than not wanting to eat and then being sick all the time. I'm just very nervous about the appointment. I can not wait to hear the heart beat (and maybe even see Peanut!) but I am so so so so scared that we won't be able to. And I'm just worried that something will be wrong. I'm trusting in God though, so I'm hoping everything will be fine.

And now it's almost 11pm, so I should probably head to bed. I was up early this morning for an interview (I did get offered a position, I'm thinking about it over the weekend) but I took a nap, so I'm kinda not feeling too tired (which is silly).

And let me just say, reading about old high school friendships and shennanigans makes me both happy and sad. Quite the bittersweet sentiment.