the peacoat papers

a quick quiz

Choose which of the statements below is true:

a.) According to the last pediatrician's appointment, Pigtail is gaining almost half a pound every week.  (Please translate what this means to the momma's chest who is feeding her.)

b.) Our brains are so addled that we used up precious sleeping time on Saturday night watching a documentary on the downfall of the polka king Jan Lewan.

c.) During our baby's first-ever bath, The Gorilla shut off the video camera to take a call pertaining to his fantasy football team.

d.) All of the above.

If you chose "D," then imagine a bell ringing happy chimes in your direction!

*

So this mothering thing is kinda hard.  Why didn't you tell me?  Oh, wait.  Everyone did. 

Pigtail is now three weeks old.  She is an angel.  Minus some feeding issues that we're still working out, she does what she is supposed to do: sleeps (a lot), poops (a generous amount), and eats (us out of house and home). 

I am still not entirely physically recovered.  Three weeks seems like a long time, right?  I think so, too.  My doctor told me in the hospital that I needed to "lower the bar."  Maybe I underestimated the whole birthing process? 

But all in all, we are doing well.  Attempting to find a rhythm, enjoying the process.  The Gorilla's parents arrive today and we are so excited to be surrounded by more family. 

Time is flying, and yet it seems like our little family has always been.   

sunday in the canyon - first date night

Tonight was our first date night out since Pigtail's arrival into our lives.  We went to the Lakers game, one of our favorite things to do.

For years, we have had a ritual when it comes to going to the basketball games.  We always park in the same spot, go in the same entrance, order the same food.  So tonight, going about our Lakers ritual, it was almost as if our whole lives haven't changed. 

Almost, but not quite.

This time, we couldn't wait to get home.  And kiss these little feet.

friday links

What day is it again?  I would have no idea.  Days and nights are all blended together.  And since I'm awake roughly twenty hours of each day now, the week has somehow expanded.  

There's not a lot going on in my browser that would make for a good link, unless you're looking for the results from endless google searches regarding infant feeding, pacifier merits, and newborn constipation. 

Still, a few things worth mentioning:

Since paper is my thing, Evite tends to grate on my nerves, even though I understand it's convenience and occasional necessity.  But a few weeks ago, I got an electronic invitation that was so classy and clean that it didn't bug me!  If you need to send out an invitation via the web, check out Paperless Post.  I was impressed.

I read an excerpt from this book in O magazine, and it seems right up my alley.  Mentors, Muses, & Monsters: 30 Writers on the People Who Changed Their Lives is now officially on my To-Read list.

That's all I got.  Friday Links may just be this sparse for a little bit.  All for a good reason.

Happy Weekend, peacoat readers!

pigtail's delivery story, part IV

continued from part I, part II, and part III...

I'm not sure when we knew there was a problem. 

All my friends had told me that you bleed afterwards.  No one had said how much.  So what we didn't realize, in those first few hours, was that I had become some sort of a horror show.

After Pigtail's delivery, we stayed in the labor room for a couple of hours before they moved us to our permanent recovery room.  It was well into the evening, and we hadn't had a thing to eat since our arrival at 5:30am, so The Gorilla set up his cot for the night and crossed the street to gather some dinner. 

I had a Dr. Pepper and some chicken strips and it was probably the best meal I'd ever eaten.  Pigtail stayed in the room with us and we alternately stared at her and then each other in wonder.

An email went out to friends.  Teary phone calls and messages were exchanged.  It was the best kind of exhaustion. 

We eventually tried to get some sleep, and they gently moved Pigtail down to the nursery. 

Every hour the nurses would come to the room and change my bedding and massage my stomach.  It was hard to get rest this way, but I assumed it was all part of the procedure.  In the middle of the night, someone finally told me that my uterus was not going down like it should, and that my bleeding was excessive.  They needed to find out the problem. 

The details from here on out are not pleasant.  There was a lot of poking and prodding on my still-very-sensitive areas, and there were catheters and antibiotic drips and substantially more pain than I had experienced during labor and delivery. 

The next morning, while The Gorilla was at Starbucks and my parents were on an airplane, my doctor ordered an immediate blood transfusion.  

This sounds scarier than it is.  I had lost a lot of blood, and the replacement would make me feel better.  This was a path to recovery. 

Though it was a bit of a distraction from the first few days with my baby girl.  But my parents arrived that first day, and The Gorilla was a champion throughout.  Both Pigtail and I were surrounded by love and support.

From a distance, that is.  Remember my fateful decision not to wash my hair the night my water broke?  After the whole ordeal, I was a pigpen.  Because of my complications, I wasn't allowed to shower.  For days.  I was a sweaty mess during delivery (normal) and after another few days, that dirty hair was practically turning into dreads (not normal).  I have never felt more gross in my entire life.  I might as well have given birth in the woods and then stayed there. 

There are thankfully few pictures of me - with or without my baby - during the hospital stay.  I thought for a moment that I might regret that.  Then I remember how I looked, how I felt, and I think, nah.  It's alright.

We had to stay an extra day and night at the hospital, so by day four I was more than ready to leave.  The Gorilla drove us home, and I sat in the back with Pigtail.  We put on the Where The Wild Things Are Soundtrack - it will now forever remind me of Pigtail's arrival to the world - and as we drove down Beverly Boulevard on that bright Los Angeles day, I couldn't help but stare at the people on the sidewalks going about their day. 

Do they know the whole world has changed?  I wondered to myself.  Pigtail is here!     

things my mom said the week pigtail was born

My mom left on Friday.  I dropped her off at the airport, then cried all the way to Target.  Then I cried for ten minutes in the parking lot, then the smelly candle aisle sent me into tears again.

Friday was a bad day.

On Friday night, The Gorilla and I heated some of the food she had left us and talked about how glad we were that she was there for the first two weeks of Pigtail's life.  I don't know how we would have done it without her. 

Mom tends to say funny things.  Luckily, I've been keeping a list.  Here are just a few...

The day she arrived we were all hanging out in the hospital room and out of the blue she says, "All my friends just love her name.  I'm really surprised because I thought it was goofy."  *sigh*

When I arrived home from the hospital, The Gorilla pulled the car right up to the front door and both my parents appeared excitedly to greet us.  I stepped out of the car, still in pain but flush with happiness.  My mom looked me up and down and the first words out of her mouth were, "What are you wearing?"

 

It only took her a few hours from the time we arrived back in the canyon from the hospital to pull out this line: "I've decided she looks a lot like me.  Let me get out my baby pictures and show you!"  For the record, she says this about every.single.grandchild.  All seven.  Maybe, maybe one looks like her.  And it's not Pigtail.

One night when I was particularly tired and still needed to take my salt bath (doctor's orders) and pump my overflowing breasts she actually said, "Maybe you can learn to pump while you're taking a bath."  Mom, wouldn't that be tantamount to suicide?  I guess I could take my laptop to the bath, too, but I won't.  She thought a moment, "Wait, forget I said that."

But I don't forget much of what you say, mom.  I should remember that with Pigtail.

pigtail's delivery story, part III

continued from part I and part II ...

We had been waiting on the doctor for almost two hours.  She was stuck in the horrible L.A. traffic while the nurses taught me to push. 

By the time she walked in, everyone thought I was ready to deliver.  The practice pushes with the nurses had moved the baby further down into position, but I was already getting tired.  So I tried not to panic when my doctor said, "Let's turn your epidural off."

Let's not, I thought.  But I didn't say anything.  They like you to be able to feel something when you push.  I'm all for feeling nothing, myself, but I guess that's not the way it's done. 

An epidural takes about an hour and a half to wear off.  I pushed for a solid hour and was beginning to feel not just a little, but a lot.  A lot.  And it made me not want to push.  It made me want to curl up in the fetal position and close my eyes. 

So they called that-wonderful-angel-named-anesthesiologist to administer a "push dose."  A little something to get me through.  I could have kissed him.  I could have made out with that man at that moment.  I think I said as much.  I'm sure he gets that a lot.

The Gorilla was by my side for every moment.  He hadn't left the room once.  He was counting when we pushed, he was encouraging when we took a break.  Neither of us could believe it when the doctor said - just like they do on tv - "This is it, just a few more pushes!"

And out she slid.  Lavender and gooey and after one deep breath, screaming.  My body deflated like a balloon.  I laid back on the bed and have never felt such relief.  I didn't cry.

The Gorilla crossed the room with her, to cut the cord and take those important first pictures.  Meanwhile, after a few brief moments of recovery, I became some sort of stand-up comedian.  The euphoria and adrenaline that coursed through my body was unreal.  I was cracking jokes with the nurses and laughing hysterically. 

I barely remember any of the after-part, but thought it perfectly appropriate to bring up with my doctor - for the first time - her various television appearances.  "I just loved your segment on Bill O'Reilly," I said.  She laughed and we traded light political philosophy.  "I saw the Tyra Banks one, too," I confided.  "What, did you google me?!" she asked.  Well, sort of.  You are delivering my baby, after all.

Over the first few cries of my first baby girl, I was giddily discussing YouTube.  And politics.  And my waxist.  I was a chatterbox.  My doctor has probably never seen anything like it.  I'll have to ask her.

Eventually they brought Pigtail over and put her on my chest.  The Gorilla and I stared at her lovely face and marveled at how small she was. 

It was over and just beginning at the same time.

check back soon for the final installment of the series - Pigtail's Delivery Story, Part IV: She Smells You.  We All Do.

halloweekend

Last October I was in Oklahoma with my sister and her kids.  This October I'm in Los Angeles with my own kid, who is nearly two weeks old.

Last October, it was my sister who had a life in transition.  This October, my own life is in transition.

Different circumstances, but all the same Fall feels like a time of change to me. 

This Halloweekend, we're eating the roast my mom left for us and trying to find our way in these first few days alone as a family of three.  We're dressing up Pigtail in all three - three! - of the costumes we bought because we just couldn't decide.  And we're leaving all the spookiest of this holiday outside, opting instead for loveliness in our living room. 

In case you need a laugh today, here is one of my favorite posts ever.  It's my niece as a pumpkin-dog last Halloween.  Here's to creativity in the costume department!

pigtail's delivery story, part II

continued from pigtail's delivery story, part I...

We ate our cookies.

I sat uncomfortably on my kitchen barstool and knew that things down under were…different. Gushier. The Gorilla and I giggled about it and for hours kept asking, “Was that…?”

I felt no pain, no contractions, and concluded that we were being hypersensitive. There are so many strange bodily functions to pregnancy that you just don’t know what’s what your first time. At least we didn’t. We went to bed.

I woke up around 1am with a searing cramp across my whole middle section. All my fear that I wouldn’t know a contraction when I felt it? Out the door. This was a contraction. Holy Hell. I felt one more – about half an hour later – before I woke my husband.

“These are contractions,” I said with authority. But I knew they were far apart. I knew this kind of thing could potentially go on for days. I tried to sleep, but each one woke me up. We decided that if they got to be ten minutes apart, we would make a move for the hospital, since we didn’t know how long it would take us to get there or how fast this train was moving.

At 4:30am, I woke The sleeping Gorilla and told him we needed to start timing again. He reached for his iPhone. Six minutes apart. It was time to get up and face facts. Pigtail had chosen her own birthday, after all.

I already had a bag packed, but I stood in the bathroom motionless. I really needed to wash my hair. Really, really needed to wash my hair. I should have done it the night before, but was exhausted and decided it could wait until the next day. This decision would haunt me (and all the photographs) later.

I walked out the door to deliver my baby in a gray OU sweatshirt and the same maternity cargo pants I had been sporting for weeks.

The NFL channel was playing on the satellite radio in the car. The Gorilla is very specific about music, he has to have something playing that fits the mood every time we go anywhere. Sitting at the stoplight listening to some football replay analysis, I noted how distracted he must be not to change the channel.

We got to the hospital at 5:30am. I signed the appropriate papers and was taken to a delivery room. I was disappointed that of all the rooms at the famous hospital with a beautiful view, we had snagged the cave-like one. It’s funny what sticks out to you during the hours before your life changes.

We were told that each patient was only allowed two guests because of the swine flu. It didn’t matter. Each other was the only family we had within a 1500 mile radius.

The first doctor – God bless her – just could not determine if my water had broken or not. She examined me, looked under a microscope, ran a test, and though all signs pointed to positive, she just couldn’t call it. A midwife arrived, looked at all the same evidence and pronounced me officially in labor. We were there to stay.

The calls to family began. Tears, joy, surprise from all sides. From my mother’s mouth, “I have color on my hair!!” when she realized that she was going to be exactly one day late on the arrival of her seventh grandchild. I assured her that there was no need to catch the next flight out, and heaven forbid she mess up her home hair care system.

We were told it would probably be a long day. I would be lucky to deliver by midnight. One tends to dilate 1 centimeter an hour. I had 9 to go. I got an epidural needle stuck in my back and we settled in.

We listened to the Where The Wild Things Are soundtrack and watched football on mute. I dozed. It was a pleasant morning, all things considered.

By noon I was at five centimeters and right on track. No sooner had the midwife left the room that my pain level turned up twelve notches. I kept pushing the “more-epidural-please” button, but it wasn’t helping much. I did my most lady-like moan, but The Gorilla could tell my pain threshold – even with the epidural – was maxing out.

I couldn’t figure out what had changed, wasn’t sure if this was normal. I struggled for about two hours. When the midwife checked me again, her eyes were wide and she looked up. “You’re a ten,” she said in surprise. In those two hours my body had moved quickly (my sweat glands could attest).

My doctor was on her way. They told me it might be thirty minutes before she would arrive, so they cranked up my epidural and I applied a little base and some lip gloss...

check back soon for Pigtail's Delivery Story, Part III: I loved you on Bill O'Reilly.

wrapping paper pinch

Over the weekend we were in a bit of pinch when the gift The Gorilla needed to take to a baby shower wasn't wrapped. 

In my condition, I wasn't rushing right out to buy wrapping paper.  So I sort of directed from the couch, and this one was all Gorilla-style.  (A role reversal, if you will.)

I did have some plain kraft paper, and a random stamp in my desk drawer.  It was the first thing that came to mind.  Of course we didn't have stamp ink, but tempura paint worked fine.  It gave it sort of a messy, handmade look that I liked.  You have to give it adequate time to dry on each side, though. 

And normal people would use a newspaper underneath when applying, instead of just sitting straight on the hardwood floors with a bunch of paint.  Oh well, blue speckles give our dining room floor character, I suppose. 

The Gorilla stamped all over, and then we added a gift tag.  Viola.

I like receiving fussy, fluffy packaging.  But I'm not a good wrapper myself.  My style is a use-what-you-have approach. 

And sometimes it works better than others.   

pigtail's delivery story, part I

After a little bout with pain two weeks before my due date, The Gorilla and I decided to induce labor at 39.5 weeks. Both control freaks, the idea of knowing exactly when this whole baby-birthing thing was going to go down was appealing.

So we set the date for Tuesday. The date had a nice ring to it. We made arrangements for my parents to arrive on Monday. I packed a bag, slept hard, everything was under control.

We had big plans for how we were going to spend our last weekend just us. We thought we might go down to the beach, have a nice dinner, wax nostalgic.

This is the part where God laughs big belly laughs at your plans.

Friday night we had a late dinner at Hot Wings Café. My choice. Not because spicy foods are one of the wives’ tales that bring on labor, but because I actually like hot wings. This was our last dinner out as Tremaine-Family-of-Two.

Saturday morning we woke up early and The Gorilla went and got donuts, my favorite Saturday morning breakfast. He was home in time for kickoff of the OU/TX game. Watching this game involved a lot of screaming at the TV. And jumping up and down. I joked in my facebook status that the game was going to send me into labor. The Gorilla laughed nervously and suggested more than once that maybe I shouldn’t get so excited over it.

I brushed him off and marched upstairs at halftime to make some crab dip. We ate the bubbling, cheesy, amazing crab dip with blue corn chips while sitting cross legged in the middle of our bed. The Sooners lost the game, but it wasn’t totally unsatisfying.

We spent the rest of Saturday afternoon in our favorite way. We didn’t do anything. No beach. We never even got out of our jammies. I read, The Gorilla messed with his turtles. We both napped. It was perfect. Maybe we’ll go to the beach tomorrow, we said.

About six o’clock, we wandered sleepily to the kitchen and ate leftover hot wings and pizza and whatever else we could scrounge out of the fridge. We sat at the bar, both with our laptops, and chatted about whatever we were browsing through on the ‘net. The movie Hancock came on and we didn’t change the channel.

I decided I wanted to make cookies. While I was spooning them onto the cookie sheet, I felt an undeniable Braxton Hicks contraction. I hadn’t had many of these, and was surprised at the tightness.

“Feel my stomach,” I commanded my husband. As soon as The Gorilla’s hand touched my belly, there was a gush of…something.

I gasped (what was that?!) and ran to the bathroom. We talked through the bathroom door. Was that my water breaking? It didn’t seem like enough liquid. It wasn’t nearly the explosion they always show in the movies. But it was more than a little something. What was it? We didn’t know.

I came out of the bathroom and The Gorilla asked, “Do you want to call the doctor? What do you want to do?”

“I want to finish making these cookies.”

And so I did. They were so yummy.

Check back soon for Pigtails Delivery Story Part II: Can I Get a Room With Windows, Please?

photo by Lookr via flickr.