A visit with irony

My father and his girlfriend left this morning after almost a week. They made the 15 hour drive from Ontario to New Brunswick on Thursday, on a mission to meet their new grandson.

They are both great to have around, but those two sentences you've just read set the stage for a buttload of irony.

#1. Father's girlfriend. I should say fiancee, because there is one of those shiny rings involved. Even so, the terms "girlfriend" and "fiancee" make theirs sound like a new-ish relationship. "Girlfriend" was at my grade 8 graduation (I'm 33). I've told my father on more than one occasion that with his sense of pacing, we should have the wedding right before the wake.

#2. My father drives a lot. He works in the oilfields of Western Canada and spends more time in a vehicle than anyone I know, excepting only long-haul truckers. The 15 hours to get to my front door were taken entirely in stride. However, Mr. Hammy's parents live 1.5 hours from us and constantly lament how far away we are.

#3. Related to #1, Dad's girlfriend - C - is overjoyed about her grandson. She's 42.

Dad, being of the old-school fathers, held Hamlet twice and said insightful, emotional things like "Woo! He's a load isn't he?" He also cut down 8 trees in my backyard, fixed the steps on the deck, replaced the shed doors, and relentlessly stalked the dandelions in my yard. Love has many different shapes.

C kept us fed, played with Hamlet, changed his diaper, helped with his bath, and took his picture. She also got some well-deserved rest - reading and watching TV. She has her own business and travels a lot; we were glad to give here a space where she could be "unavailable" for a few days.

I hate watching my family leave. Crying before breakfast is never a good way to start your day.

And they all lived....

So, BabyHammy was born and despite his harried entrance into the world, his Apgar scores are great (meaning his colour, responsiveness, breathing, etc. are good). But in the meantime, I am in shock (literally) and there is a team of folks inspecting my nethers doing a whole lot of sewing. At one point the OB/GYN asks for better light. I say "For Jeebus sake, make sure he can see what he's doing. There's stuff down there I'd like to use again someday."

My own doctor takes a good look at me and interrupts the nurses doing nursey things with BabyHammy. "Let's get baby over here to his mother." Because I haven't held him yet, just watched him pass overhead. I can't tell you that there was an instant connection, that I was right then and there in love. But he was here, after waiting so long and working so hard. And I was sure this little guy and I were going to fall into love, no problem. As soon as I could breathe.

He was 8 pounds, 10.5 ounces, and 20.5 inches long. They also felt that he was a little overcooked - 41 weeks instead of 40. Talk about overstaying your welcome!

BabyHammy (or Hamlet as some prefer) is now 5 and a half months old. He's a great little guy that wakes up laughing, and sleeps 12 hours at night. Mr. Hammy and I won the baby lottery it seems, and we know we're very lucky.

Intermission....interrupted

Floating on the loveliness of the epidural, both Mr. Hammy and I were able to relax somewhat. My very organised engineer friends had developed a call-out tree for Mr. Hammy to initiate, so it was time to set things in motion. Family also had to be notified. His parents and sisters are about an hour away and were intending to show up, but my family is all in another province, so we were just putting them on "there will be a baby today" alert.

My family was very excited and wished us well. His parents? "Can you give us a call at noon and let us know how things are going? We've got some errands and stuff to run today." This was after their son had told them that the doctors had said baby was definitely on the way TODAY. For double certain sure.

"Call us?" WTF?

Mr. Hammy, you gotta love him, said "No. I'm fairly sure that I'll be busy." (Worry not, there will be more on Mr. Hammy's family later.)

Back in the labour room, we settle down to wait things out. Things are bearable now and I try to nap, but I think excitement, terror, and adreneline are conspiring to keep me chattering to the nurses, visitors, anyone who will listen. The intern who has been performing my pre-natal appointments over the past 9 months comes in and breaks my water to move things along.

I wasn't aware that a nurse constantly stays with you monitoring vital signs for both you and baby. At one point, nurse says "Hmm." and asks me to roll onto my other side. Then back again. "What's going on?" we ask. "The baby's heartrate dropped a bit, so the repositioning sometimes helps to get it back up." Hunh. Okeydoke. She seems satisfied with the result, so we relax again.

Around this point, Mr. Hammy realises that the snacks and provisions that we had put together are still at home on the kitchen counter. "Do I have enough time to go and get a snack in the cafeteria?" he asks the nurse. "Oh, sure you have plenty of time."

(this, my friends, is foreshadowing)

Mr. Hammy wanders off. In the meantime, the nurse has me do another rolling routine as the baby's heartrate drops again. She explains that in a lot of babies, the cord sometimes gets wrapped around their neck as they move around and down for birth. Nothing to worry about. Oh.

A friend from work arrives with a sandwich for Mr. Hammy (who is not there), and we start to chat. Of a sudden, the nurse wants me to roll. Then back. Then she pages the doctor. Then she asks my friend to leave. Then she makes me get on my hands and knees.

The baby's heartrate has dropped again, lower than before, and it is not coming back up with my acrobatics. They want to attach an internal monitor. I am not fully dilated, so they tell me that they are prepping me for an emergency c-section. I am still on my hands and knees, my husband is gone, and I am terrified.

They need to take blood. What? How? Why out of my arm of course (ramp up terror level), y'know one of the two that are supporting my weight. (I was bruised for weeks) The room is filling with people. My doctor and intern have been shunted aside for the emergency OB/GYN and his team. So much is happening. I hear my husband briefly; they explain what is happening and get him into scrubs. I don't want a c-section - my needle phobia pushes me to the brink of panic at the thought, and the room and the people continue to surge around me.

At some point, I am allowed to lay back down. Mr. Hammy is beside me and he says clearly, "Babe, the baby is okay. The heartrate is back up." Okay, I can breathe. Whatever happens next, BabyHammy is okay right now.

My doctor explains, "You've become fully dilated in the last few minutes. The baby's heartrate is back up, so we're going to allow you to push. There is a window here that we're going to use; if the heartrate drops again, we'll have to go to surgery." Read: do this quickly or not at all.

They get me into position. They tell me to push, but they don't explain how. After years of teaching people how to lift safely, I blow out as I exert myself. No no no. "You have to hold your breath to increase the pressure and help the baby out." Well, why didn't anyone say so? Why is this vital information left out of pre-natal classes?

I hear the sound of cutting. (Sweet jeebus) They put a vacuum on the baby's head. I push again. "Is it working?" I can't feel much because of the epidural (thankfully), so I need someone to tell me what's happening. "Again!" Three contractions and BabyHammy is out, torqued and wrenched like a rugby ball leaving a scrum. BH is lifted to the warming table behind my left shoulder. I can see a foot as he passes above me, and I can see that BH is pink.

"It's a boy babe! A boy!" Mr. Hammy sounds so happy that his heart may burst.

(Mr. Hammy tells me later that from his vantage point, he could see the cord wrapped around the baby's neck when he made his entrance to the world. The image was burned into his brain; terror and joy combined.)

Next time: The denouement

Girls, check your tattoos

The good news about my labour is that it occurred during daytime business hours. Apparently, it gets a bit dicey in the night when there is only one attending anesthetist. You may want an epidural, but if something else is going on in the hospital that requires the anesthetist on a more urgent basis, you = screwed.

So, I had decided that an epidural was a good way to go, even taking into account the terror of needles. Through the haze of contractions, I was able to process that when the Epidural Guy (EG) arrived, he had a tremor. Seriously, I shit you not. Hand-shaking tremor on the dude who is going to place a needle in my spine. It is a testiment to my state of mind that I allowed him to go forward thinking a) I remember learning in university that some tremors disappear with controlled movement and are only present at rest, and b) he wasn't young enough to look like this was his first day. I would not be the first woman he maimed.

I'm sitting on the bed, leaning forward with my husband sitting in front of me, physically supporting me and reminding me at regular intervals to breathe. (Seriously, it wasn't just labour - when I'm scared I hold my breath. I almost passed out getting my ears pierced.)

"Oh, a tattoo." says EG. "It's a good thing it is where it is." (my tattoo is on my back, to the left of my spine, just at the bottom of the ribcage).

"Pardon?" says me.

"If it had been over the spot where I need to put the needle in, I wouldn't be giving you an epidural."

"WTF?" thinks me. "Really?" I say.

"Yep. I had to refuse one the other day. We don't know if the dye will get forced into the spinal cord, so it's not being done."

Holy Jeebus, I thought. Imagine getting to this point, finally mentally throwing in the towel and calling for the calvery, and then being denied. So the moral of this part of the story is: Girlies, if you are getting a tattoo, avoid the L5-S1 area. If you already have a tattoo there, argue with your doctor and hospital policy before the due date.

Being a polite girl, I turned my head to face the EG during this exchange and managed to catch an unfortunate glimpse of the spear he was readying to jab me with. Mommydaddymommydaddy.

After a couple more contractions, the medication kicked in and for the first time in hours I was able to relax and prepare for what was coming next. Or so I thought.

Long time, no blog

Well, I suppose it's about time eh?

"When last we saw Hammy..."

I was very, very pregnant and waiting for the birth of our first baby. My due date was December 14th. My friend T and her mom dropped by the evening of the 12th to deliver some baby clothes donated to the cause by T's brother and sister-in-law. T's mom is also an awesome person who wanted to check up on me and see the baby's room.

I woke up at about 4am on the morning of the 13th with what felt like cramps. My belly was upset (my actual stomach, not the baby), and I visited the bathroom several times thinking "Great, just what I need now is mild food poisoning." Now, I had been feeling crampy and stuff for a little while, but it was more like a joint ache - I figured my poor pelvis and hips were just trying to adjust to my increasing girth.

So, I go down into the livingroom to read. But the cramps aren't going away. Is this labour? How the hell am I supposed to know, I've never done this before. Gah! It's a little before 6am when I go and wake Mr. Hammy. "Are you in labour?" he asks. See above comment. Gah! We actually pull out the baby books and start comparing the symptoms of false labour and real labour. Things are starting to really hurt, but there's no discharge, no water, no nothing.

We call the hospital to see if we should come in; they are wishy washy. "Well, if you can't handle it, it's time to come in." What the hell does that mean?? I start writing down the time and duration of the cramps/contractions after I get out of the shower. Things are about 3.5 minutes apart, and lasting for around 35 seconds by the time we get into the car for the (thankfully) short drive to the hospital. (There is a funny story about the list I made of times and such, but that's a post-baby portion of the story.)

By the time we get there, I am really uncomfortable. Good thing we decided to get to the hospital, because by the time they get me in a gown and check things out (by the way: OUCH!!!), I am already 5 cm dilated and they ask me if I want an epidural.

(To recap, I am technically halfway through labour and my water has not broken nor have I experienced any discharge/loss of plug. Sorry to gross anyone out, but ladies out there should know that it is possible!)

Now, you may recall that I am TERRIFIED of needles and this whole pregnancy thing has been a trial for me. And an epidural is a big ass needle that they place into your spine to decrease the pain of labour. While I'm deliberating whether I'm brave enough for this, the contractions continue. I pace like a caged animal. I can't sit, stand, assume any position that makes it any better. Just for the record, contractions feel like the worst menstrual pains you've ever experienced...times a gajillion. I felt like my insides were being raked and pulled.

The intern in the room looks over at me and says "I can tell you for sure that things are not going to get easier from here."

Blink. "Good point." I say "Bring on the epidural guy."

Next up: The joy of modern medicine, and why you should pack a lunch for delivery.

Home stretch - 39 weeks

Apparantly, the baby is fully "cooked" and is now just lazing around gaining weight. Talk about over-staying your welcome! A friend of mine had a baby on the 19th of November, so I even tried a little baby-on-baby competition. Perhaps some goading - "He's out here in the world and you're not!". Didn't work. Although I did discover it is difficult to hold a baby when you have no lap.

My mother-in-law has decided that she is going to transplant Christmas dinner from her house to ours this year. Isn't that just what you want when you've given birth within the week? A house full of people who won't know when to leave? Mr. Hammy has had a preliminary conversation with his mom explaining that if the baby comes close to Christmas, it may be better for us to travel for a short visit than to have everyone here. His mom doesn't get it. She feels that I would be able to do whatever I want whenever I want if everything is taken care of in our house. I may have to take this thing in hand, but it's a moot point until baby shows up.

Mother-in-law also wants to come and stay with us for a time when the baby is born and I don't want her to. That should be another fun discussion! We're not buddies, and she's not particularly easy to be with.

And I thought all my discomfort came from being overweight, lack of oxygen, heartburn, and sleep deprivation!! What the hell do I know?

Mothers and daughters - WTF??

My mother needs me. Really, much more than she should. Her first marriage to my dad was over before I was 4. Before my 6th birthday, she married my stepfather thinking (I presume) that the opposite end of the testosterone-spectrum was where happiness would lie.

She was wrong.

So she is now one of those women who has nothing to talk about except the doings of her family. Phone calls are a laundry list of why she's annoyed with my brothers, the latest hurtful episode with my stepfather, blah, blah, blah. I've told her I want to hear about her - what is SHE doing. Has she gone out for coffee? Been to a movie? Read a good book?

I live in another province, so I am only available by phone. The pattern goes like this: She calls. Sometimes she leaves a message. I've told her that we have call display, and that if she calls 4 times it'll show up so she may as well talk to the machine. Okay, so if she actually does leave a message it's something like "Hi, it's me. Give a call when you get a chance." And then invariably, she calls me back. It's incredibly fucking annoying.

I'm not a phone person, and she seems to be taken aback the times she calls and I say I just don't feel like talking....to anyone. If I was someone you knew, wouldn't you rather I call you back? Would indicate that I was ready to chat wouldn't it???

Project: BabyRoom

Today is the day we start trying to pull it together. We've been buying stuff for the baby's room for months now, and it is time to make it look like somewhere you could stash a brand new person.

It got fresh paint in July, and we also steam-cleaned the carpets. There's a crib, a change table, a glider-rocker and stool, pictures for the walls....

My friends are plotting....er....planning a shower for me mid-November, so here is where we determine the gap between "got it" and "need it".

Wish me luck!

Blood guilt

So, I'm deathly afraid of needles. Like phobic. Sweaty palms, crying, the whole nine yards. Doesn't necessarily go along with the rest of my rugby-playing, contact-sport, no-bullshit persona, but what's a girl to do?

Now in the recent past, when asked if I donate blood, I explain that I am petrified and "I made it, I'm keeping it."

However, what with the bloodwork and crap I've had to do as we prep for BabyHammy I have found that a) I've not gotten any better with practice, and b) I have a blood type that is found in only 7% of the North American population and is especially useful for accident victims and premature babies (O-ve; universal donor).

It's not an issue right now, because you don't donate blood when you're pregnant (apparently, BabyHammy has "dibs" :grin: ), nor for six months after. But then.....should I try???

Shamed into updating

Yes, Darth made me do it.

It's Thanksgiving weekend and I am so unbearably thankful that I am heading to my in-law's tomorrow for the traditional combination of turkey and torture.

To add to the hour-and-a-half drive to get there, my mother-in-law has invited my husband's Uncle, Wife and 2 kids. Sounds simple? Ha! The lovely bonus to this addition to the festivities is that Uncle and Wife separated less than two months ago. So this isn't a comfortable "we've been separated for a while and can be trusted to make like adults" situation, this is "we're not quite sure how to act, but let's try this on for size". And I can't even drink. Save me.

Baby-person is growing well, and at 30+ weeks I am ready to get off this flying umbrella. Which I know will only get worse as I expand into full term. At this point, I would donate organs for the ability to sleep on my stomach. Soon...soon.

My latest adventure in pregnancy had to do with having an Rh- blood type. I knew I was unique, but I didn't know that I was 15% of the population. So, despite what your biology books told you, even in a first pregnancy this means that I run the risk of having a baby with an Rh+ blood type, which could lead to my building antibodies against said baby. Which, as they say, is bad. So another blood test and a shot later, me and the small are protected for 12 weeks. After baby makes their appearance, I may need another if the baby is acutally Rh+.

Did I mention that I was terrified of needles in general? Yep. I've played contact sports my whole life and the thought of needles reduces me to tears. Every time.

Rare and confused - that's me. :)

29 weeks...

"Your baby now weighs about 2 1/2 pounds and is a tad over 15 inches long from head to heel. His muscles and lungs are continuing to mature, and his head is growing bigger to accommodate his brain — which is busy developing billions of neurons. With this rapid growth, it's no surprise that your baby's nutritional needs reach their peak during this trimester. To keep yourself and him well nourished, you'll need plenty of protein, vitamin C, folic acid, iron, and calcium. (About 200 milligrams of calcium is deposited in your baby's skeleton — which is now hardening — every day.)"

Happy birthday to meee.....

And I get to spend 4 hours in the car to experience 2 fun-filled days of work meetings! Don't forget the 4 hours back tomorrow!!!

Woo freakin' hoo.

Tired...

...but apparently I should get used to it. Sleep has become very challenging, what with seven-month belly and all. Can't imagine it will get easier as baby and I head for the homestretch.

I'm going out to run a few errands soon. Y'know, the WalMart run you have to make every so often when you run out of laundry soap and fire extinguishers at the same time? And I need to find something decorative for the baby's room walls. I'll wander over to Winners and Pier One as well to see if they have anything appropriate that won't kill me with cloying cuteness at the same time. NO ANNE GEDDES!!!

I think I hear one of our cats getting her ass kicked outside by her neighbourhood counterpart. Not saving her this time. I am ANGRY at her. (I know, what a waste of effort).

This particular cat has taken to peeing in the house, despite a very clean litter box. We've had her checked medically, we've steam-cleaned the carpets, my husband cleans the box every other day (we only have two cats), and I'm at my wits end to know what else to do. We are going to call a friend of ours with a working farm and heated barn to see if they need an addition to the barn-clan. The animal rescue place here in town is disgusting, so I don't want to take her there. Besides, who's going to adopt "Miss Very Affectionate But Pisses on Your Carpets"?

How time flies

Many, many months since last posting and how things have changed.

For one: I am six months pregnant. Perhaps that explains general apathy and sluggishness March through May??

BabyHammy is due in December and I couldn't be happier (Mr. Hammy is nigh on to spastic). The only kicker is this: I really, REALLY don't like being pregnant. Now before some brain-surgeon out there starts tutt-tutting me and telling me it's all part of life and this wonderful process, they can crawl back into the Hallmark card they were barfed out of.

Seriously folks - it's all a sales pitch. Months one through three - no actual signs of a baby, just flu-like symptoms with the opportunity for ultra-sore breasts, acne, and bleeding gums. Woot! Bring it on!!

Months three through six - slowly growing out of all your clothes (like some bizarre closet-version of Survivor) and having to endure total strangers a) asking about your health or b) telling you about their own pregnancy experiences (when you haven't asked). I'm a fairly private person with a small group of close friends....this is fairly uncomfortable for me.

I actually had a woman come over to my desk the other day and ask me to stand up so that she could see my stomach. I told her I didn't know I'd been nominated to be the performing monkey of the day. You can see where my popularity comes from.

So everyone is sure that stork thing isn't true? How about the cabbage patch?

"Cause darth said I had to

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.

Here goes:

"Cabals only hire one witch, see? They'd probably rather not hire any at all, but we've got special skills, so they overlook the whole witch-sorcerer feud just enough to hire one of us.Anyway, they figure, if they have to hire a witch, they want a good one."

From Dime Store Magic - Kelley Armstrong

I noticed that it's been several weeks since I've posted - I won this winter's flu and cold lottery! Yeah, over a week of (literally) gut-wrenching stomach flu, followed rapidly by your every-day cold, complete with sneezing and sore throat. Woot woot baby!

Now Mr. Hammy is sneezy and sniffy and it's his turn to go to bed early and support the OTC pharmaceutical industry. All alone with my 'puter. I wonder what the yikesafolks are up to???

Sick & tired....[why is that never tired and sick?]

Woke up at 2am - thirsty. Stumbled downstairs for drink of water. Back to bed.
Woke up at 4am - sweaty, dizzy, yikky-belly feeling. Wondering whether it will pass, or do I have to stumble to the bathroom.
4:03am - stumble to bathroom. Eventually yakking commences.
Back to bed at 5:47 am - eventually to sleep.
Feeling dozy and vaguely bleghy all day.

If I still feel this way tomorrow morning, I am NOT getting out of bed. I don't care how much work I have to do, I've been running at fast-forward for months. Maybe this is my system's way of saying "CUT IT OUT ALREADY!!!!"

I'm an ISTJ, and yourself?

Okay, despite my very social day-to-day aspect, I'm more naturally an introvert. Seriously, I'm not sure I like people too much - they make me tired. Once upon a once, I did the Myers-Briggs personality testing thingy and came out an ISTJ. Which means I'm an introvert, with sensing, thinking, judging tendencies. Apparently only 10% of women fit into this category, which explains why I have more guy friends than anything else.

Why is this relevant? Because my husband left today around noon to spend the day with his buddies, and won't be home until late. I had a freakin' wonderful day by myself with naps and girl-movies, and red wine.

It is presently a fairly early 10:18pm, and I am slightly tipsy and ready for bed. Good day all around.

Night all. And remember, alone doesn't mean lonely.

xoxo

If at first you don't succeed..

...apparently you can get a job with IBM. I mean seriously, how many tests do you have to fail to join this band of merry idiots? And they have the audacity to call themselves a "Business Solutions Group".

My ass.

More like, "Please tell me the nature of your problem so that I can ask repetitive and redundant questions until you attempt to stab your eye out with a pen" Group. Ix-nay on the olution-say.

Will you hold?

Yes, Virginia - Hammy has a blog...

To my yikesafriends:

Yes, I have a blog.
Here it is.
I set it up a couple of months ago and then experienced a spontaneous evaporation of this thing called "free time".
Apparently decided the other day that I needed someplace to write and remembered abandoned blog.
Welcome! Perhaps this will spare you all tedious posts about my life????

xo

Let it snow, let it snow......uh fuck that

Blizzard "warning". How does that account for the fact that it has been snowing since I got up this morning and contintues to snow now? I tell you, after last week, I'm not busting my ass to get to work tomorrow. Nosireebob.

It's been an oddly melancholy day. I've been doing some sorting and re-storing, and I keep running across pictures and notes from friends and family. A small piece of lined paper from my great-grandmother telling me how proud she is of me ( I think it was dated 1987 - I was 15). A card from my Nan signed with a happy-face and many x's and o's. A tear-stained letter from a friend as she moved to the other end of the country, when we'd spent 2 years establishing the friendship of a lifetime.

I was one of those priviledged kids who was surrounded by family and grandparents as I grew up. I know how lucky I was, but sometimes it's jarring when you realise how much you've actually lost.

I was trying to explain it to my husband over Christmas. Five or seven years ago, when everyone was still where they were supposed to be, I hated spending Christmas with his family. Because it wasn't my Christmas, and my Christmas was happening somewhere without me. But now, my Christmas doesn't exist anymore because the places and people are gone. And that's harder.

My heart is full of the people I've loved and I hold tight to their stories and their voices. It's just difficult to remember when a picture or a glimpse of handwriting takes your breath away.....