Bringing Lauren here

How did I ever forget the pain of delivering a baby? How could the memory of contractions that threatens to overwhelm one's body and will, or the terrible burning sensation that promises to rip your body apart if you push any iota more become so vague and distant until it is time to do it all over again?

10/14/2009, we checked into the hospital at 8am to induce baby Lauren.
It took 3 tries for the nurses to get an IV catheter into my supposedly delicate and tiny yet useless when it comes to catheters vein, and the Pictocin drip was finally started around 10:30am.

The contractions never build up much from the Pitocin. I keep waiting for the contraction to intensify, telling my body that I could take more, just BRING IT ON ALREADY, but it never did. At 7:30pm, I was still at 4cm, 80% effaced, and +1 station, only 1cm more dilated before the drip. The doctor broke my water.

At 8:30pm, all ability to control facial muscle through the pain was lost. On the pain scale of 0 to 10, it's a 10, no question about it. If there's any pain beyond what I was feeling, I pray no one needs to feel it. The doctor and the nurse were called in to consult on medical options to ease the suffering. The anesthesiologist was in a surgery, I was told, so epidural was out. How about something to take off the edge? I was at the peak of the transitional period, but still have 2cm to go. "Would it get any worse?" I asked the doctor in a puny voice. Probably not from the contraction, she said, but pushing would be a different kind of pain. Would I want anything to help me through the delivery? Um... Yes, please. The doctor discussed with nurse on what I should be given. The nurse turned to go, and I halted everyone by uttering the magic word "pressure!" That was 8:35pm. I was ready to give birth.

8:59pm, Lauren was born. The little girl came fast and furious. For all the waiting and anticipating, it's still hard to believe that she is now finally here. It is hard to believe how such a big change in all our lives could arrive so swiftly and happen so matter-of-fact-ly. The earth of my world quaked and restructured itself, mountains moved and oceans surged, but no one outside the hospital room noticed. And now after the searing pain, I have a little sticky, bloody, and wondrous little human being so tiny and fragile in my arms finally here for us to love. The adventure of life continues.

Note: The doctor and nurses commented on how great I did, which I don't understand. Was there a different way to do it? The baby was coming, I couldn't stop it. There was no "let's all take five"; no "here Michael, it's your turn, take over"; no "I quit". I had to push, and so I did. What other options were there? Yes, I did it all naturally. But don't forget, I really didn't have a choice. Any mother would need to go through what I had gone through in order to become a mother, no? More power to the mothers!

Still waiting

38 weeks and still going. Still waiting. Still wondering.
Evelyn was induced at 37th week because of my high blood pressure and a mildly elevated protein level in my urine. At 37th week and a few days this time, I was sent over to the hospital for more blood work and a non-stress test because of the exact same issues. But this time, even though the 24 hour urine collection test (3rd such test I did during this pregnancy) showed that the protein level is again mildly elevated, I only received a stricter bed rest order and more "we'll keep a close eye on you" answers. We're suspended in uncertainties of what is to come, going from check up to check up. Unknowing is a hard position to be in.

Bed rest is hard. Only a few days in and I feel like my left ear is permanently mushed into my head, my hair will forever have a flat lopsided look, and my left hip would never be rid of the soreness that comes from supporting my weight hour after hour. I have no idea how other moms do it. As much as I complain, I must be honest and admit that lying down is indeed the most comfortable position for me right now. It makes my irregular contractions (Braxton-Hicks still) little less uncomfortable, and takes the pressure from the baby's weight off some.

Checking the calendar, we have but 2 more weeks to go before the due date. Dear baby #2, I'll leave it up to you. Come when you are ready. But please, don't dally!

To Dear Baby - We're almost there

Dear little baby,
How are you doing in there? I got to see you again this Monday when we had our ultrasound to check on your growth. Looks like you are doing pretty well. Despite how small I may look on the outside (trust me, I don't feel it), you are actually measuring large. Besides the numeric measurements, you also demonstrated how nicely you are readying yourself for the outside world by showing me how you practice the motion of breathing. You further showcased your athletic abilities by stretching and kicking as best as you can in the cramped space. Oh, little one, you are not the only one who is feeling squeezed and squashed. Your little bottom is situated right between my rib cage. Your heart is beating under my bellybutton, and your little head is in my pelvis. To sum it up, there is no more room for my lungs, heart, or other organs anymore.
I've long forgo grace in my movements. So what if I waddle? As long as I can get across a room, I'm happy. Bending is another motion that I can no longer perform. The feeling of having an agile body is but a distant memory. "I'm ready to give birth," I'd tell people with a hand on this solid lump that is you. But then, yesterday, the doctor found out that he's about this close to declaring that I have preeclampsia. Your sister was induced three weeks early because of a trace of it. If I have it this time, you might follow her foot step and arrive early as well. As early as say in two weeks. TWO WEEKS! All of a sudden, I realized that I'm not prepared yet! Yes, your cloths are washed, folded, and put away. And yes, your carseat is all prepped to be set into the car. But... can one really be ready to welcome a new baby? Be ready for the changes that a little new life brings into one's current life? How would you change our family dynamic? How would we continue with the house planning? How would I manage school and your sister and you? I know everything will turn out okay somehow. But I am still nervous and a little scared. Nervous, scared, but sure of one thing, and that is you will be welcomed to this world with plenty of love.

Tickling baby

Only if I can bottle up physical feelings to relive them in the future. I vaguely remembers what was like to feel Evelyn in me. But the memories that stood out were of the last few weeks. By then, the space in me was so tight, I could tell she was stretching out a limb to push outward. I'd rub this little hard spot of a hand or a feet, and she would slowly retract it. It was as if I was touching her through a thin veneer of skin and muscle. Baby number 2 hasn't grown that big yet, and I keep thinking that she moved differently then her older sister. But with little memory but my previous journal entries to rely on, I really can't say.
How can I describe how baby number 2 has been tickling me these days? It's like she's drumming her little fingers or wiggling her toes on my inside of my waist. Sometimes, she'd tickle both sides of my waist at the same time, making me jump and squirm and laugh out loud. Since our last ultrasound (done last Thursday) showed that she is already in a head down position, it's more likely that she's working a foot on me to produce such a strong sensation. Wonder what she's really doing. Wonder what it felt like for her, tickling me like this. 11 more weeks to go before we reach full term.

Aliens and vocanos

When I was pregnant with the little girl, often times would I feel like a host with an alien life form in me trying to break out. Her head, butt, or limbs would push and stretch and make this visible lump on my belly that is quiet impressive to behold.
This time, I feel like I have a mud volcano sitting in me. Rather then a kick or a punch, I have gigantic bubbles burst in me, sending reverberations to the deepest corners of my being. Instead of a stretch, I feel rumbles. Honey baby darling, what are you doing in me?

No, this is not just a beer pouch, my dear

"That's a cute top, where did you get it?"
I looked back at the bunch of students whom I only met a few minutes ago, and found that the question was directed at me.
I searched out the question issuer; fresh faced, slim, young, not an expecting mom.
"Um, this is a maternity shirt," I said quietly, suppressing mirth and the urge to gesticulate, like the girls in those afternoon game shows, in front of me while narrating at the same time "note the protruding abdominal section, the thickness of which has surpassed the chest, note how she waddles just very slightly and how she sits and stands up with a groan about her back... you guessed it! She's pregnant!" I might also flash the number 26 at times during the presentation as in "she is in her 26th weeks!"
"Oh," the student replied, and we continued the walk in a bit of an awkward silence.

Time flies even faster the second time around

The nurse walked in with a bottle of bright orange sugar solution to be drank before the glucose screening test. I couldn't believe my eyes. Isn't that for much later in the pregnancy? Oh My Gosh, am I already at that late in the pregnancy?
As if to reaffirm how far we've come along, the little one in my belly kicked and moved and stretched and punched vigorously, leaving me to go "oomph, ah, urgh" inwardly. Even when the midwife was listening in to the heartbeat with a doppler, we'd hear the regular "whuanks" of heartbeat being interrupted by the high screeches triggered by fetus movements. Yes, yes, someone's having a little party in there, and big enough to make mommy's belly dance with the movements. At the end of the appointment, I was also told that the next checkup would be the last 4-week one. After that, I'd be going in every 2 weeks until the 36th week. Doing a little math in my head, I realized that this is the last month in the second trimester. How did that come to be? I was told by several been-there-don-that moms that the second time around, time flies at a even scarier pace. They were right. When I was pregnant with the little girl, I marked the passing of every day. Ask me how far along I was and I would be able to rattle out the precise week and day without thinking. With this little one, though I am celebrating and cherishing every moment the baby is in me, I have only a vague idea of what week this is. I suppose with the little girl there was so much unknown and so little distraction to detract me from wondering about the unknown. With this little one, there is still a lot of unknown, but I have the little girl to keep me grounded, and I am also more confident in my ability to handle what may come.
I must say, the passing of time makes me wary. I do not want to miss out any important milestones or developments of the new one simply because my life is now a bit more full, a bit more hectic. Only if I could make sure every minute of my little ones lives are pressed and seared and preserved forever in my mind.