The Duchess

Interesting

So what's new Internet? Not much here, no one is dead, I'm not knocked up or down for that matter, just business as usual. I went to Blogher awhile back and I realized something

Wait for it

I am way (like WAY) more fun in person. I'm super funny, intelligent and awesome but it just doesn't translate on this here blog. Also my name is Jenn. Not Duchess. That nickname was all cute and funny at 25 when this shit started but at almost 31 it's time to give it up. Sure I'm still narcissistic enough to think I rule my own world but truth is I don't even rule my car most days (special shout-out to the tiny humans who have in fact taken over and demand shit like food and the song Slippery Fish to be sung over and over and over).

So yeah, that's it. I wish there was more, I wish I was doing something super exciting or you know badass but I'm not. I get up I drink stupid amounts of coffee, I rarely shower or tweet, I try not to step on the babies and remember to feed them, I sometimes forget to drink water - like at all, I go to work at night come home watch TV and sometimes poke the tiny humans to make sure they are breathing, I get up when they squall in the middle of the night and then the day starts over - except Thursday's then I shower and go to marriage counseling and then mortgage my kidney to pay for the babysitter. It is an underwhelming existence but somebody has got to do it (did I mention my new nickname is somebody).

Anywho, I hope your worlds are rotating at a more exciting speed (it's like watching frickin' paint dry around here) maybe some day I will change this blog up and make it true to my badass form but that seems like a lot of work (volunteers?)

Oh snap, I almost forgot, here is a picture of the tiny humans...not so tiny anymore.

 image courtsey of http://www.daveeblu.com/

Welcome

Born on Wednesday March 3rd at 9:01am weighing 6.14 lbs and 18.75 inches long:

Claire Elizabeth

welcomed with love

 

*birth story to come as soon as I am not nursing around the clock and chasing Sasha - so you know sometime in the next five years *

 

To clarify again:

I used the wrong terms in my last post, what I suffered from was really more of a postpartum anxiety than depression. I have had anxiety for many years and the characteristics I displayed after the birth of my first child fell more into that of anxiety. Postpartum anxiety is the lesser known cousin to PPD, I was so tired of trying to explain to my family and friends what was wrong with me (anxiety? huh? isn't it just depression women suffer from post birth? NO) that I just let them think it was mild PPD when really it was raging anxiety. I am sorry I was not clear about this in my first post or even in the update that followed. I have anxiety, not depression, I am not on medication, I did take medication when I was 18 after I was attacked for PTSD. I have a great team of doctors, friends and family who are here for me. I am not a doctor, please consult your physician.

Also please quit sending me mean email, this is exactly why I said nothing for over a year and why other women suffer in silence, if you want to disagree with me then fine but do so in the comments don't be a coward and hide behind email. I am not advocating or putting down medication I am simply telling the story of my life.

Silly Girl *Updated*

"This is the biggest thing you are going to do for awhile"

Famous last words spoken to me by my doctor at my six week post-partum appointment, I was sitting there crying telling him I must have made a huge mistake, I am so not cut out for this new "lifestyle" which by the way is crap at that point there was no life let alone one with style.

I wanted a baby so badly, more than I wanted anything it was a craving that ran so deep and it only increased with every passing negative cycle or loss. The more the universe seemed to resist the more I shoved right back demanding to have it my way. When I finally won and had my positive beta I thought to myself, ahhhh the hard part is over.

Silly girl.

I had a very long and rough pregnancy with S. filled with the highest of highs and lowest of lows I kept telling myself I just had to make it through one more week and then the next week I would tell myself one more, I could do it I had to do it because in my heart of hearts I knew all I had to do was cross the finish line, as soon as that placenta was out of me the pregnancy was over and I could relax, the hard part would be over.

Silly girl.

I hadn't worried to much about post-partum depression, which seems downright foolish to me given the fact that I have like six of the five (yes you are reading that correctly, I believe that neurotic should be on the list as well) warning signs. My second night in the hospital was so bad I had to be mildly sedated; I was beside myself with panic and fear. Every time my eyes would shut I would have these horrific dreams that they took my baby and my husband had left and I was all alone in the same place where I had been alone one year and fifty weeks earlier. I called my mother hysterical beginning her to come telling her I hated her for not being there, how could she choose C. over me (a side note: my sister was undergoing experimental chemo at the time my mother had used the last of her vacation to be with her during her treatment, something I had told everyone I was fine with because I had really thought I would be fine with it, also we discovered that I cannot take the drug perc*et as it cause these horrible nightmare hallucinations) she promised me she would get in the car first thing in the morning and drive here, she would be here. Even as she said it I knew it was a lie to calm me down I knew she wouldn't be able to be there but I didn't care it was what I needed to hear and so it was said.

I cried everyday for the first two weeks, I was moody and irrational and I wanted to send back this beautiful baby, this baby I would have sold my soul to have, I wanted my old life back. I told my doctor these things and before I had finished he stopped me and said it wasn't my fault this is chemistry not the baby or Duke or myself that I really had no control over it. He wrote me a scrip and told me that I would have to stay on the drugs until spring. I was relieved anything to stop this feeling I was having, anything so that I could look at my daughter and not feel guilt and remorse. I took the first pill and figured that was that it was up to the pills and my brain to sort out this battle and all I could do was sit back and wait. Apparently I am one of the lucky people in this world who become manic on a certain set of anti-depressants, these pills made me so high so fast it was frightening - for everyone. I immediately quit taking them (under the advice of my doctor) the other drug option for me would have impacted my ability to breastfeed (which is a whole other post/topic/beast) so I chose to wait another two weeks until my post-op appointment. I was very closely monitored during this time between Duke and my doctor and my family. By six weeks I still felt on edge all the time but I had begun to at least miss S. when I was away from her, I felt less resentment at my life being so obliterated; don't get me wrong I was still overwhelmed and distracted and quiet crazy but I at least felt like I was going to make it somehow. This went on for the next five months and it wasn't really until I quit nursing (another story another time) that I felt a tiny part of myself even out and come back to life. It wasn't until nine months after giving birth that I started to feel true joy at the tiny moments, I appreciated them but the joy wasn't there. I have embraced all of these moments but now I do so with such overwhelming joy and gratitude that I find I have tears for a different reason.

I was quiet for so many months on this blog space, how do you say that the one thing you wanted more than anything you wanted to send back. This wasn't a sweater this was a human, my tiny beautiful daughter that I would do anything for; then and now. I was embarrassed and could never find the right words, even now they don't feel adequate to fully described how it was. I am choosing now to write about this because having S. was supposed to be the biggest thing I would do for a long while and as we all know this isn't the case, I am doing another big thing in 14 weeks and I am scared this time.

I have hope that it will be different, not as scary as the first time, but I have real and true fear that it will be the same only worse because I will now have S and this new baby. The difference is that I won't be quiet about it this time; I won't sweep it under the rug and pretend all is well. I will take the time to heal and if nothing else I will lean on you, my Internet family, because whether you have crossed the bridge from infertile hell or you are still stuck on the island we all know what that fear feels like and we all know it becomes a little less when we have each other.

Goodbye Silly Girl.

*Updated*

I just want to clarify that I did not/am not taking drugs for the post partum troubles I suffered, this in no way shape or form to imply that pharmaceuticals are not helpful to some people, they were not an option for me in my case. I repeat drugs rock but only if they help you and in my case there was more harm then good. As always I am not a doctor I just play one for my family on google please consult your physician before making any decision about your health or medications you may be on. I am not advocating in any way that people should just "tough it out" when it comes to PPD or even the baby blues as stated on my about page this is my story and mine alone, I'm selfish that way.

 

A Sea of Green

All is alive and well here.

I am 14w 3d and still am puking my brains out. I am on 8mg of Z*fran every six hours around the clock and I am having moments of over the moon excitement not only about the baby but about the fact that I will never have to be pregnant again. Julia wrote a very nice post about me a few weeks ago in which she talked about how stories like mine in general make people like me want to tear my hair out, if I had a dollar for every time I was told to relax, just adopt or relax some more I would be zany rich. Hell if I had a dollar for every person who has said, "See you just needed to relax this time" I could buy ammunition to take them out.

Your comments and emails have buoyed me over the last month and a half. You have made this easier to deal with and you have put my fears at ease. This pregnancy is very different from my one with S. less complications better overall placement and size, HR in the 160's, great results from the quad screen, less weight loss (which is a miracle considering I am still tossing my cookies 3-4 times a day- on the Z*fran).

I find this so surreal still, there is a small person the size of my fist growing and changing inside me everyday, a small person who has already defied every odd every doctor I have ever seen has set, a small person who is going to come careening into our lives and enrich them beyond our wildest dreams.

At 14 weeks things are sailing along, sure I am still seasick but my legs finally seem to be back under me.

I hope your sitting down....

I'm Pregnant.

How are you feeling? Do you need a glass of water? Just breathe deeply; I myself could use a whole bottle of vodka.

Are you ready for the super gut kicker...I am 9w1d. This means I conceived just days before my D&C and implantation occurred just days after. I have been feeling sick for weeks but blamed it one thing or another seeing as how I had not had sex since the D&C there was no way I could be pregnant. When I actually threw my cookies on Sunday and then again on Monday I knew something was wrong so I called the Doctor.

They told me he would not order a beta because there was such one in a billion odds that I could be pregnant, he would however test my iron and other hormone levels, the nurse called me around two on Monday and said the lab sheet was ready for me whenever. I loaded S. into the car in 100 degree weather with her pissed and me exhausted and drove all the way across town to pick up the lab sheet, I get down to the lab and they inform me that I would need to fast before being drawn.

Now totally pissed that the nurse had me drive all the way over there to turn around and drive home and come back the next day I stomped back upstairs and promptly lost my shit, I was quickly shoved ushered into an exam room and told a nurse would be with me shortly.

She came in and I just started to cry, I told her how awful I felt and that I have only ever felt this way twice and BOTH times I was pregnant. I told her I was mad that they wouldn't test me, it is my nickel after all and if I want to throw it away on a blood test what do they care? She said she would speak to Doc Bowtie and be right back with me.

I then sat there shaking, what if I was right? Could we survive another ectopic as there was no way (famous last thought) this could be viable. How stupid am I? What was I thinking? I tried to tell myself to calm down but I already had hives on my chest and was shaking. Nurse "I so don't believe you" came back into my room and told me they would do a urine test, you know just so I would calm down. I went and did my business and less than 3 minutes later she returned to the room, "The Doctor will be in to see you shortly, I'm so sorry"

I knew this meant I would have to have surgery; I am not a candidate for the methotrexate shots. I switched into emergency mode and began to try and get a hold of Duke so he could come and take S. and drop her off at his parent's. I called my work and told them I had a medical emergency and as soon as I knew how long I would be gone I would call and update them. Doc Bowtie had to run off and deliver a baby so I had to wait a little over an hour to have an ultrasound.

At this point Duke had arrived and taken S. to play down the hall so I was alone with Nurse Super Love and Doc Bowtie, we started the ultrasound and his jaw dropped, there in my uterus was a small 8w6d embryo, heart beating, arm buds waving bouncing around.

I started to hyperventilate.

This is not what we had planned and yes I do know how babies are made. Duke is over the moon with excitement and I feel lost and alone and overwhelmed. I had a horrible pregnancy with S. followed by an even worse postpartum. I am considered a threatened miscarriage again because I have been bleeding on and off.

I want to be happy, I know how special this is, we had decided within the last few weeks that we would not cycle again and instead we would just enjoy the gift we have with S. I wish I could shake this feeling that I have done something so wrong. I feel like I have robbed S. of her babyhood and irrevocably changed our lives for ever.

I feel overwhelmed and alone and sad and guilty and stupid. Then I feel even guiltier for feeling all of those things, I should be happy, I should be over the moon after all we went through to have S.

I have been trying to think of how to write this for the last two days wanting to tread carefully for those who are still in the trenches, for those who would kill to find out they were pregnant. In truth this is my space about my life, good, bad and ugly. I understand if some feel angry about how I feel, I am angry at myself for feeling this way but this is my place to be honest and so honest I will be.

I need support and maybe a hug and someone to tell me it will be okay and that I haven’t ruined everything and that it’s okay that I just want to cry and not jump up and down today, that I will get there and we will make it.

To My Dearest.

My Dearest Sasha,

I have been meaning to write this letter to you since about month seven of my pregnancy. I had bought a baby book and there was a special envelope for a letter to baby from Mommy. I haven't gotten around to putting a letter on actual paper but believe me my dear I write to you daily in my head.

I am having surgery in the morning and while I expect to be home and whining by dinnertime this last year has taught me that life can and will change in an instant and it is important to seize the time you have when you have it. These things are important to me and I hope someday we will sit and laugh at how I was afraid and so I wrote them all down. My hope is by the time you are old enough to need this advice you will be very sick of hearing it. From me. This is not a full list, which will go in the baby book, but this is a good start.

Things to Remember

You are so loved. You were so wanted and loved before I ever met the you that you are. I longed for you, dreamed for you, and craved you. The day that we met was easily the best and worst day, imagine having everything you have dreamed of handed to you in a 7.7 pound squalling package, everyone looks to the mom for answers but the truth is that we were just meeting for the first time (I have never felt that kind of fear and joy at the same time) and I had no clue what I was doing. Before you I had never seen what innately good really was. Your spirit and joy for everything around you is infectious as is your constant smile and laughter. Your eyes are so wise it is almost like you are saying not to worry you and I will be okay, we will take this adventure together.

Be kind to everyone you meet. There is never a reason to be mean to people, you never know what is going on in their lives and you never know when you may need help from someone. The same goes for if you are having a bad time, there is no reason to take it out on others. You would be surprised how far a kind word and smile will get you. Always smile at other women; this may seem weird for me to say but something happens around middle school and girls can be mean and awkward and a smile can disarm a situation like nothing else. Also you are stunning inside and out when you smile.

Be fair and honest, lying never helps anything and unless you memory is flawless it usually catches up with you. Be kind to all the people you meet. Always tip 20%. If the service is awful go with 15% trust me the server will get the message with a 15% tip, they may be having a bad night but they are still tipping out every other person in the restaurant (that's right sometimes as much as 40 percent of what they are tipped). Donate generously whether it be time or money there is nothing more rewarding than knowing you have given to help make the world better (Go ask Grandma to tell you the starfish story)

People will say things to you, about you and sometimes for you. Own your voice and know that you are who you are and there is nothing wrong with that. Don't let ANYONE tell you there is ANYTHING wrong with you. My biggest regret in life has been my over concern of what other people think of me. In the end you have to like you, also please make sure you love yourself before you ever try and love someone else. Never compromise your morals or potential just to make someone else happy.

Drink Slurpees in the summer and hot chocolate in the winter, go on spring break, please don't TP houses (Again go ask Grandma to tell you the story about Aunt C.) Get a job learn how to drive a stick, sleep in, go to the beach, love all music, travel, love, live.

If you ever can't talk to me you can always talk to Aunt J. She can answer anything and everything plus she knows more about beauty products than any human should and she is good at math and making mac and cheese. She can fill in the blanks and hold your hand when need be. She rescued me when I didn't even know I was lost. She is the perfect example of choosing your family. Not all family shares blood with you, you create and surround yourself with those people who are genuine. Some of the best people in life are friends.

Your father is a good, caring man;  he loves you fiercely and would do anything for you. Be patient with him, you are his little lady and that will never change. You will always be the tiny girl that he brought home in ladybug pajamas. Yes his love of golf is annoying but so is my shoe collection and coffee habit.

I wanted to name you Lorelai...any questions about that one can be answered by the Gilmore Girls and your father.

I love you bug and I will do anything in my power to make sure you and I go on this adventure together, even in the mandatory teenage hating years I will win you back one emo song, latte, and Nordstrom trip at a time.

You are now and forever my greatest joy.

Love,

Your Mom

I need a hug.

First off let me say that a whole month without a post sucks. I simply don't see how all you lovely women do it all.

Second, I am tired of writing under a false name, half of you already know my name and the other half I bet couldn't care less. The Duke and I are getting a little bit old to go by our college nicknames, sometime in the next year I hope to re-introduce you to us. Plus I just don't think it is fair that we have fake names and Sasha has to use her real one.

We went to Sasha's four month well-baby checkup almost two weeks ago. It started the same as every other appointment we stripped her naked, she giggled uncontrollably as she often does when we undress her...I am hoping she outgrows this before her teen years. Then we put her on the scale, DUM DUM DUM

11lbs. 11oz.

Shit.

She was 10.11 at her last appointment two months ago. Clearly she is not getting enough to eat the nurse, doctor, PA and lactation chick tell us. As I am sitting there holding my beautiful daughter I am trying very hard not to cry. I have failed her and I didn't even know it. The doctor asked if she was crying all the time or not sleeping, she had actually been very happy and had started sleeping up to ten hours at night.

All I could think in that appointment was that the people that read this blog would make me feel better. This was fast followed by the thought that you might not. That you too might think I have failed. I have seen some of the bitter breast battles that go on at other blog sites. I pride myself on not really caring. In fact wasn't I the one who said I didn't care if I breastfed or not, whatever works for the family. Then I tried it and it was hard at first and I needed help and luckily people who were kind and normal came to help me and I was able to do it. In fact if you must know it was the easiest thing I have done with my body to date.

Then it started to get harder, my milk production went from about 6-7oz every four hours to ONE OUNCE. I started pumping around the clock and using teas and supplements and with that help my milk went back up to about 4-5 ounces, every 4-6 hours. Still not great milk production but Sasha seemed okay with it and she was outgrowing her clothes so I assumed her weight would be on track at her next checkup. Oh how I hate to be an ass.

We left the doctor with strict instructions on supplementing and starting solid foods. I came home nursed Sasha for forty minutes and then offered her a four ounce bottle of formula that she promptly downed in two minutes flat. Then while she laid there giggling and cooing because she was finally full, I sat there feeling even worse because I didn't know my baby was hungry. Not only could I not conceive her on my own, or give birth to her on my own now I can't feed her on my own. It sucks and I am angry with my body.

We went to the doctor on Wednesday for a cough (mild RSV) and she had already gained almost a pound, geeze, and then the real poop hit the fan. She had been fairly gassy all week and I figured her body was trying to adjust and then she started to vomit. When I say vomit I mean puke shooting out of her mouth and across the room at a rate of speed that would frighten Robert Downey Jr. after a wild bender. By the time I came home Friday night from work she had hives all over her body. With a little experiment and 45 calls between the doctor and me we have switched to soy formula and the hives and puking are gone for the moment.

Sasha is happy and healthy (other than her cough); I have given her a wonderful start with breast milk. Formula is not the devils drink, I was a formula baby and I am far wittier than most people I know including Duke who was breast all the way. So why do I feel so bad? Why can't I let go? Why do I still not feel settled in this role of parent? Why do I care what other people think?

Birth Story

To write in actuality what our birth story is would only require about two minutes and six sentences seeing as I was a scheduled c-section. There was no real drama or intense decisions to be made. There was no pain before and thanks to morphine none after. There was however truckloads, boatfuls and canyons deep with emotion.

Monday November 3^rd 2008

 

9:45 AM

I went to my normal appointment to be checked. I was officially 39w 4d and there was NOTHING. I told Dr. B that I was not leaving without an exit strategy; we worked out my odds of ever going into labor on my own. I sat and weighed all of my options and tried to listen to my gut. My gut told me this baby was not coming out, as badly as I wanted that I just knew.

 

11:30AM

My 4,654,735,623 NST is routine, I am having small contractions as I had been for the last three weeks, a whole lot of smoke and no fire. One thing I notice is that Sasha’s heart rate drops a little with every contraction, this is after an incident at around 37 weeks where I had one big contraction and her heart rate dipped into the 90’s and took two full minutes to recover. I have no desire as long as I am breathing air to re-live those two minutes of my life. I feel mixed emotions about the c-section but decided to stay the course.

 

7:30PM

Head out for one Last Dinner of Just Grownups with good friends. It feels strange that by this time tomorrow I will have been a full fledged parent for twelve hours already. We laugh and joke with no grasp of the full extent our lives are about to change.

 

9:30PM

Take a shower and scrub with the special soap they have given me make a mental note to use this against Sasha when she is a teenager…it smells awful.

 

10:15PM – 4:00AM

Toss, turn, rinse, repeat. There is no sleep for me. Duke on the other hand sleeps like a baby. I use this time to catch up on my DVR recordings and to panic and wonder if I made the right choice to become a parent. I decided it was a little late to worry and that no matter what I would love her and care for her the best that I could.

 

Tuesday November 4^th 2008

 

4:15AM

Take another disgusting shower with the nasty soap. I can’t wait for the first time she wants to take my car.

 

5:30AM

Check-in at hospital; get situated in my room, changed in to my gown. The nurse comes in to start my IV, misses the first time. After missing a second time she leaves and comes back with a second nurse who decides she will try my right arm instead. This is my dominant hand; never have the IV put in your dominant hand. As soon as all the paperwork is done (an amusing side note, they have you sign a form saying anything they take out of you becomes property of the hospital with the exception of the baby. Please make sure you take the baby with you. Really? The Hospital felt they needed to clarify this?)

 

6:45- 7:15AM

Duke and I are sitting around waiting, there is a shift change going on with the nurses. My stomach is going ape shit over the fact that very, very shortly I am going to meet this person who has been living in me. It is a total Game On and Get Your Shit Together You Are Going to Be a Parent moment.

***********************TMI!!! Poop Story to Follow!!! TMI*******************

 I must take three maybe four trips to the bathroom you know because my intestines are trying to escape my body. This is not a time for your dominant hand to be out of commission. I had not trained my left hand for an event of this proportion. I was the size of a whale trying to wipe my ass with a hand whose normal task is to collect the toilet paper from the roll. This second string player was not up to the task. After I did the best I could I made Duke look at my ass. He was very hesitant at first, even refusing until I pointed out with tears in my eyes that I was about to be strapped to a table, filleted like a fish and I did not want the good people of the hospital to think that I could not properly care for myself let alone a tiny helpless baby. So he looked and proclaimed that my butt was fine but that I needed to get a grip, I was there to have a baby not film porn. This made us both laugh and laugh and laugh and then my doctor entered the room…early.

 

7:15-8:15AM

As he entered and announced we were ready to roll I am pretty sure my heart stopped for a minute. I hopped out of bed slipped on Duke’s flip-flops and grabbed the two little bottles of stomach acid reducer I was supposed to drink before surgery. I asked if I should drink them now and the Doc replied that I should have had those 20 minutes ago. So there we are the three of us, Dr. B, Duke and I walking across the maternity ward, opening little airplane sized bottles of antacid, my ass hanging out of my gown, Duke fiddling with the camera.

We are stopped in front of double doors I had not been through since 2006 when I had emergency surgery for the ectopic pregnancy. I am making jokes and then I am “introduced” to my nurses for the day. Mary and Christina will be with me all day. Christina is a new nurse who is being proctored by Mary she is sweet and caring and I am very happy to have her be part of my team. When everyone is about to see you naked I have decided it is better to think of it as a team affair. Mary was my admitting nurse when I had the ectopic. She was the one who talked me out of the bathroom and promised me I would make it through, she held me while I cried and comforted me when I howled and shouted that I knew I was never going to be a parent. She ran interference for me with my in-laws before I knew how to do it myself. It is because of Mary That I made it through the ectopic and I had only seen her once in passing since then. She recognized me and gave me a very knowing smile.

 

It was time to head into the OR, Duke would wait outside while they got me on the table and gave me my spinal and whatnot. There are two sets of doors the first set takes you into the OR hallway and then there is another set into the actual surgical suite. Mary and I stood there together waiting for the okay to come in. She looked at me and said, “I guess life does come full circle sometimes, I am happy to be here with you right now.” To which I promptly lost my shit. I had been doing okay until that moment but I just started to cry and repeat, “I can’t believe I made it, I hope I am making the right choice for a c-section.” We talked and cried for a minute more and then the door opened and we went in.

Once inside I was introduced to the rest of The Team, there was Dr. A, a very awesome anesthesiologist who used aromatherapy (and drugs) when I started to feel sick during the surgery. Angela a nurse who had done most of my NSTs was there as my surgical nurse for the day. It was an operating room full of women with the exception of my Doctor. It was My Dream Team and they were helping me over the last hurdle to make my dream come true. There was so much love in that room, so much hope and excitement. I asked Mary and Angela if it was always like this and they told me not very often.

They placed my spinal and man was that a trip, I had a moment of panic at not being able to move but Mary just held my hand tighter. Duke was brought in and was standing by my head, he would have sat down but I wouldn’t let go of Mary. Dr. B started the surgery and we all held our breath.

 

7:45AM- 7:00 PM

The cord is short and around her neck. Mary leans into me and tells me how smart it was to choose a c-section any other way could have been catastrophic. Dr. B comments that the baby looks like her father and just like that there is screaming from Sasha and crying from me and Duke and everyone one else. Duke kisses me and then goes to Sasha, Mary lets go of my hand for the first time and takes pictures. I try to remember to breath and I try to remember to remember and then things go fuzzy. Dr. A pushes something into my IV and the world becomes sharp again; she will repeat this process two more times. Duke and Sasha leave for our birthing suite and they stitch and staple me and then take me back to the birthing suite for recovery. For the next hour and a half they are checking vitals and bleeding and my uterus which contracts down at an astonishing speed. Mary pushes pain drugs into my IV and helps me latch Sasha for a first go round of breastfeeding. The next twelve hours pass in an instant. President Obama is announced as the winner (I am told this the next day) and I fall in love with a little lady named Sasha.

The rest of hospital stay was not without incidence, I had a very hard second night but that is another story for another time. Sasha is here now, every step was worth it.

She is my greatest joy.

 

Birth Story in Pictures!

Last Moment as a Twosome

 

The C-Section

  The thing he is pulling past her ear is the cord.

  She came out screaming...

  She still does this arm move.

  The best thing I have ever seen.

  Apgar testing

 I refused to let go of the IV pole.

So happy

  Sasha and I, can you tell which one of us is getting the good drugs?

  Sasha and Mary

The End...for now.