Debbie Does Drivel

CHANGE IN PLANS

So I changed doctors and hospitals.

Yes I did this when 38 weeks pregnant.

But, I really felt uncomfortable with my existing doctor. He was never very willing to answer questions or let me talk about the kind of birth I wanted...

He seemed to feel challenged when I asked for his reasoning behind his decisions...and I really felt that if I stayed with him I wouldn't have a say in my labor and delivery...

So...I changed. I also hired a doula. That took some Kevin convincing, but now he is happy to be relieved of remembering which areas to massage during labor and how to get me in the proper positions for baby transport down the birth canal.

I do feel better.

As for my due date: I don't feel very close to having the baby. I go back to the doctor on Wednesday to find out if I am ripe for birth.

I thought I'd feel more uncomfortable or something at this point. Like heavy with child and ponderous. My legs do hurt and there is some back pain, but I am not dragging myself through the days yet...

I am a little small still too (not for lack of trying). My stomach just seems too little for 38 weeks.

Well, I'll sign off now and root around for something else to worry about...

Doulas Rula

Our doula (I have some shame that I say this without even a touch of irony) is making such a difference in how I feel about this pregnancy.

It's like having a certified massage therapist, psychiatrist and trusted friend rolled into one. She came over tonight and seemed genuinely interested in hearing the genesis of my fear of all things medical and pointy that are stuck into veins.

She went over some pain coping techniques, showed me acupressure points to stimulate my cervix toward labor and asked what aromatherapy scents I preferred. She also offered to put in our infant car seat (Kev is scared to do it) AND even rubbed out a sore spot in Kevin's neck. It was like a threesome without the sex!

I feel SO much better about the pointy things that will be stuck into my veins and have less anxiety over the labor and delivery. It's truly made a world of difference for me to have a doula at my service.

I've even lost my cynical sarcastic edge. Lord, will I be a total marshmallow after the baby comes into this world? Whatever will happen to this blog? It depends so on my dissatisfaction and disgust with the world in general....

39+

Today was the day I was originally told I'd deliver the baby.
I had it marked on my calendar and whenever anyone asked my due date, I'd answer "February 10."

Now, it's apparently been moved to Feb. 17. Either way, I'm approaching the end of the pregnancy and I don't feel physically ready, other than extreme tiredness during the day.

We go to the doctor tomorrow to find out if I'm getting any closer to delivery. Also, this is the appointment where I'll have my membranes "swept." Given how much it freaking hurts to have my doc's gloved hand inserted into my birth canal, I know the sweeping process will not be pleasant.

Last weekend, the doula stimulated acupressure points on various parts of my body to jumpstart labor and I'd hoped that would get things going...but alas, not to be. I'm going to have her give it another try tomorrow.

Plus, I haphazardly visualize flowers opening to simulate my pelvis parting for birth, and I sometimes chant "open, open," in an attempt to mind meld my cervix into doing my bidding. I'll let you know if my cervix subjugated itself to my post-hypnotic suggestion tomorrow...

SHARE THE PAIN

So back to the pelvic exam. But first let's first be sure we are all on the same page:
Take a tube sock. Imagine it is a vaginal canal. Make a fist. Punch the fist through the neck of the sock until your entire hand and forearm are submerged in the sock. Now, try to puncture the toe of the tube sock with your fingers. Really get on board with this one and approach this task with lots of verve and freakish energy. Come one, shake that fist, give your fingers a good wiggle. Hold this position for what seems like 10 minutes. Make it your number one priority to rip the tube sock apart.

This sock demo should provide an effective glimpse into my Wednesday morning doctor's appointment.

I think he felt bad. But he was so robust about the whole thing, like this was a dog-eat-dog game of "Pin the Tail on the Cervix."

Kevin was there too and for the first time, I think he actually felt my pain. All along, he's been thinking woman make a big deal about this whole childbirth thing. His voice shook when he asked me if I could feel the doctor's wrist watch up around my uterus.

Plus, it didn't help when the doctor was all: "I'll be done as soon as I locate the baby's head..." and "Boy, your cervix is way up there," and "Just a few more minutes while I get my bearings up here..."

So all in all: we know now that I am still 1cm dilated and 50% effaced...which is pretty much where I was last week...although the baby is head down and seemingly ready to go...

And now I'm thinking, if I'm complaining so much about a hand in my tube sock, what will it feel like when an entire person is trying to poke its way out?

I THOUGHT THE PELVIC EXAM WAS BAD...

That was nothing compared to delivering a 9-pound baby!!!!!

Pictures of Alexa Angela coming soon...

She was born Feb. 16 at 11:23PM. Now I must give some credence to Kevin's long-standing prediction that his daughter will be the first U.S. president as she came into the world on President's Day.

We've very happy, but tired.

Of course, she is a complete genius and has outstanding hand-eye coordination (says Kevin...apparently she will be a politician AND an Olympic athlete).

More soon!

IN ALL HER PINKNESS....

TACO BELL BAGS AND ARMAGEDDON

These are the things you dream about when you are seriously low on sleep. When I was able to catch a 20-minute nap the other day, I woke still clinging to the dream of year-old Taco Bell bags piling up in our kitchen and me yelling at Kev to please throw them out. Now, this dream is dangerously close to reality as neither of us has the energy to cook and take-out is our salvation.

The end of the world dream was last night. It was particularly vivid and Kev had his own version of it the night before. When REM sleep is interrupted, all dream hell breaks loose.

At night, Alexa wants to feed about every 3 hours...and after she eats, we change the inevitable poopy diaper, swaddle her and hope to high heaven that she will drift off to sleep. Getting her to drift off to sleep is a complicated recipe involving our HEPA air filter, a vacuum cleaner and Kevin screaming "shhh, shhh" in her ear. We read that in the womb, the sound level was at 90 decibels and newborns still prefer that sound level in the real world, so we recreate it with appliances.

Other than that, she is Mega Baby complete with astounding super powers. Kevin is sure she is way advanced for her age, as he has never seen a week-old lift her head, kick her arms and legs and focus on light the way our little Wonder Woman does.

To this end, we are totally overstimulating her in our pursuit of hyperstarting her developmental process. We put her in the crib and turn on the spinning, whirlagig mobile complete with loops of Bach, Beethoven and Mozart; then throw her in the bouncy chair with sound and lights; then whisk her away to a play mat resplendent in primary colors and hanging toys. I admit we are overdoing it. It's just that we are so impatient and cannot wait for her to interact with us and say things like: "Get that damn Tickle Me Elmo out of my chubby face."

What's been particularly interesting is watching Kev interact with the baby. The first few days, he got up during the night each time I did and insisted on changing the diaper or rocking her to sleep. He brings the camera out way more than I do and engineers photo opps, like swaddling her like a baby burrito and putting little bowls of salsa and guacomole next to her. He even drives slow now.

I love him more than ever and the baby more than I thought possible.

And so motherhood has begun.

ZUCCHINI GHOSTYHEAD

I should be writing about my new baby's latest flashes of genius...but I remain fascinated by these dreams I've been having.

The latest is I was in bed with my mom and all us kids were asking her where our dad was because he had been gone for several days. She kept telling us that Kenny Rogers would know where he was and to call Kenny for the details.

For some reason, we were hesitant to call Kenny Rogers, but finally I decided to do it and got out of bed to find his number. When I returned to the bedroom with the number, something made me peek my head out into the living room again and I saw that the sliding glass door to the sunroom was open, when I had just closed it seconds before.

Kenny Rogers all but forgotten, I now had to deal with a ghost in the house. Suddenly, I felt a squeezing about my chest and looked in our mirrored closet doors and saw I was alone, save for a large zucchini on my head. I kept screaming: "There's a zucchini on my head! Help me! There's a zucchini on my head!"

I still couldn't breathe because the spirit continued to squeeze me, but I managed to yell about the zucchini several times because apparently a gourd on the head is much more troubling to Dream Debbie then having the life choked out of her.

Now, if the zucchini were a squash, at least it would match my hair color and I could probably have focused on not dying.

In other news, my baby has dimples! Isn't that cute? And she smiles when she farts, just like Daddy. I just hope she doesn't grow up with a zucchini on her head.