Soapbox

So I’ve got this kid….

…and now there are two. Hoo boy!

When we decided we were ready for round 2 (although the jury is still out on how we’re doing in round one) I was a little worried, about whether or not I was ready, how I would run after a toddler when I was pregnant and manage my time, etc. Ted was worried about how I would take a forced separation from Stephen because I had never spent a night away from him. So somehow it was decided that I would take the boy to my mothers house and me and my sister Becky would go camping at Lake Hope overnight, so I would prove to Ted that I won’t freak out if I"m out of contact with our son.
I’m not quite clear now why I thought a night on the ground, sleeping on sticks and rocks when I was 8 1/2 months pregnant was a good idea, but off we went. Becky and I had a great time- chasing sleeping bags that went rolling merrily downhill and laughing so hard at some silly joke that I had to drop to my hands and knees to keep from falling over (leading passers-by to worry that I was going into labor). I woke up about 4 in the morning and heard thunder in the distance. It was still far off but coming fast and furious, with almost constant lightning. I finally woke Becky and said "Look, we’re about to get hammered. I suggest we grab the stuff and throw it in the car now before we get washed away!" The thunder got louder and the wind started to really pick up as we hastily struck the tent and loaded the car and headed out of the park… and then the thunder got quieter and farther apart, and we drove through a brief shower, and by the time we got to Athens at 5 AM, all was calm.

So we crept in and slept on the sofa and I did not go check on Stephen upstairs, so I insist that it still counts as an entire night away from him, though Ted disagrees.

But from the beginning, Katie seemed destined to be my "easy" one. I had none of the awful nausea that had been so debilitating in my first pregnancy. I also didn’t have the swelling that I had the first time around, and gained about 10 pounds less. I did yoga every day (Stephen loved to sit and do it with me- I wish I had a movie of my solemn 3 year old in lotus position with his arms outstretched. And after the debacle of my first delivery, I got a book on Bradley childbirth and practiced it. And it turned out that running after a toddler all day when pregnant was much easier than being on my feet as a nurse all day.

Early on the morning of the 18th of October I felt the contractions start. At least, I thought I did. I was vacuuming, and when I felt it, I sat down and did my Bradley relaxation technique- and it seemed to disappear. Every time. I had a doctor’s appointment for 11 AM so when I arrived I told the doctor, "I don’t know if I"m in labor or not". He took a quick peek and said "How far away is Ted’s office? Because yeah, you’ve been in labor for hours, and since you have a long drive through heavy road construction, I suggest you get him home and head on down to the hospital."

How strange! I hadn’t had one, good, solid contraction all morning, that I knew of. I went home, called my sister to stay with Stephen and called Ted. When he arrived, somewhat breathless, I was sitting at the kitchen table playing rummy with Becky. "Um… do you want to go?" he asked. "I guess" I said. I had learned the lesson of going to the hospital too soon. "Can we stop at Wendys on the way?" I had also learned that despite all that "nothing in your stomach, only ice chips" crap they push on you, low blood sugar does not help labor one bit!

And so it was in a completely different frame of mind that we arrived at the hospital and checked in. I’d had my doctor leave instructions that I wanted to be allowed to walk around this time, so they checked me over, attached a monitor and left me alone, figuring I would be hours yet. I sat in bed and watched Tv for about 20 minutes, having only minimal contractions, until Ted reached over, took the remote and turned the TV off.
"Out of bed" he informed me. "
"Oh yeah" I detached the monitor belt and got up. We had had a discussion about what went "wrong" in our first delivery, and decided that the snowball started rolling when I let them put me to bed and keep me there. I told him that in labor, a woman turns very inward, focused on what is happening inside and NOt on what is going on outside. "Remind me of our plan"I had instructed him. "Because I"m very easily led when I’m in labor."

We started off down the hall, waving at the resident on duty as we passed the desk. Almost at once I could tell that this was real labor. Each time a contraction started I leaned against Ted, and relaxed completely, and while it didn’t disappear as it had before, it was no big deal. They were every 2 minutes like clockwork, strong but not in any way painful. After almost an hour of this the doctor arrived. He was informed that nothing much was happening with me, because we were wandering around so quietly and cheerfully, but he decided to take a look.

"You’re at 9" he informed me. Nine! That magic number I thought I would never hear with Stephen! "I’m sending someone in to get your admission blood work started, and I’ll see you again soon." I decided to get in bed for a while, since my back hurt, and two contractions later the famous "camel back" contractions started, which meant delivery was near. As the tech arrived to draw my blood and start an IV I was blowing ferociously, because the nurse informed me that no way was it time to start pushing, despite my assurances that it was. The tech decide to wait until 5 seconds before a contraction to stick me with the needle, so of course I drew up my arm as the overwhelming urge to push took hold.. and nearly stabbed myself to the bone.

"Blow! Blow!" the nurse was shouting, but it just wasn’t possible. "I can’t blow! The baby is coming!" I yelled. "No it’s not- now you need to blow! You’re not trying " If I hadn’t been hanging on to the bed for all I was worth, in the first real pain of the entire proceeding so far, I might had slapped her. Fortunately at that moment the doctor, who had been having a phone conversation right outside the door, stuck his head in and said "I hear someone having a baby already!"
"Yes!" I almost screamed. "I think I am having this baby now! "
"I told her to blow but she keeps pushing" the nurse (now my enemy for life) informed him exasperatedly.

"Let’s get this bed broken down- sit her up- get me a delivery kit" he announced as soon as he looked under my gown. "This baby is coming right now." Ha!

And indeed she did. Once they finally let me push, it only took 2 tries for Kathleen Margaret Meisky, my Polish-Irish girl, to enter this world. In the delivery photos you can see that not only is my make-up still fresh, but the doctor barely had time to get gloves on. No gown, no time to even roll his sleeves up, and she ruined his nice Italian loafers.
"It’s a girl" he said, and I almost wept. "My Katie is here!" I said. All through my pregnancy with Stephen I had been so sure that my Katie was coming- I thought I felt her presence, and then when he was born, I thought perhaps I never would have a Katie at all. But here she was, and…
"That was so easy!" were my next words.
The nurse laughed out loud. "I have never heard a mother say that before!" she said. Yeah, well probably you never had a mother doing Bradly instead of that Lamaze crap, I thought. But that’s another story. The resident stuck his head in about then. "Wait- it’s done already? " he asked. "Why didn’t you call me?" You snooze, you loose, pal.

The next morning the doctor signed me out. "Thanks for stopping by" he joked. "You’re getting good at this!" And indeed, I felt quite vindicated from my first delivery. Finally the child-bearing hips did their stuff!

My tiny girl, as dark skinned and black-haired as a little Navajo, has been home about a week now. She sleeps well, she eats well, her brother thinks she’s the neatest thing since sliced bread, doesn’t seem jealous of the time she spends in my arms and hasn’t once dropped her on her head.
What’s not to like? I think this parenthood deal may be going to work out alright. I have the most amazing, beautiful son in the world who can reduce me to tears by walking over and kissing my knee, and now this precious little girl. Who knows who she will turn out to be? I hope I can do right by her and giver her a good start in life, but I firmly believe, after 3 plus years as a parent, that if you love your children and make sure that they know, without a doubt that you love them– you’re halfway there.
I hope so anyway.

So I’ve got this kid… and we bought him a mattress and box springs: a “big boy bed” so that he could get used to being out of the crib well before the new baby arrived and get started sleeping there. He thought the new bed was pretty neat, and used it as a play platform for his myriad of stuffed friends. We didn’t bother with a bed frame because we thought putting the bed on the floor would make it easier to get into and less frightening to fall out of. He took to it right away. Looks like we did everything right, the way all the baby books say. Right?

So how come the kid sleeps on the floor? Night after night he drags his pillow over to the doorway and lies down on the carpet to sleep, with his head almost out in the hall. I’m frankly afraid that some night I”m going to kick him in the head on my way down the hall to the baby’s room.  If we move him into the bed after he falls asleep, he’ll just move back to the doorway later in the night. No fussing or crying; just quietly gets up and transfers himself, pillow and the occasional stuffed animal down to the floor.

My brother had a great idea. He bought the kid a sleeping bag. Now at least I don’t worry that he’s cold, so I just walk softly and let sleeping boys lie.