Part Three, in Which Hooligan Huck makes his appearance and my heart grows three sizes. Grinch style.

I’m not going to lie. I was terrified. Not as terrified as with my C-section for The Boss. I can honestly say that was the most scared I have ever been in my entire life. Pure terror, right there. And it was not misplaced, the Boss was really wedged in there.It was awful, painful, scary and worth it. When they brought The Boss to me (as I was having a monster panic attack and hollering I have to get up!) I said hello to him and he reached out and grabbed my nose.

 

 

BOOM. Motherhood.

 

This time was very different. The spinal I had was different and I could feel my feet which was very disconcerting…and I could smell them cauterizing as they cut. OMG, people. That will stick with me for ages. Once TOTT was in the room I relaxed a bit more and with just a few tugs and pulls Huck was out. And then I waited. And waited. And waited. It seemed an eternity, the took him over to the warmer and I could see them rubbing him with the towel and suctioning his throat with a long tube. There was merconium in the amniotic fluid and they wanted to really clear his lungs.

Finally after three months of waiting he let out a tiny craggy cry. I’m certain it was maybe 90 seconds total, but you know if you’ve had a baby that moment after he/she enters this world and the when they vocally proclaim their arrival seems an age. He was proclaimed “perfect!” by the doctors and wrapeed up burrito style and presented to me.  His eyes were closed and he was swollen but so tiny and that’s when it happened.

Just like that I couldn’t remember a single thing I’d been worried about. I couldn’t fathom not being a mom of two. Two beautiful boys. My heart, it just expanded the way your lungs expand. Meeting Huck was just that….like a big, fresh, breath filling me up with life. My heart swelled and my stomach swooped the way it does as you head up a roller coaster, but there was no let down. Just the up. The up was Huck. Brand new to the world and us and yet it was as if he had always been with us. The only thing missing was The Boss.

Too soon they took Huck off to be weighed and measured and I quickly reminded TOTT that he was to never leave that baby’s side. The nurses took exceptional care of our little guy. I was put back together, Wizard of Oz Scarecrow style and wheeled back to my room for recovery. Once the baby and I were settled I would be moved from L&D to Maternity. Only then would I be given my baby. I felt so much better after this surgery than the last, I couldn’t believe it and so I kept after the nurses to move me faster. And they did.

Just like his brother, Huck latched on like a champ at the first attempt. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been worried that nursing this time might not go as easily as last, but it seemed as if we were good to go. I’ve always thought God gifted me with easy nursing and a good supply since everything else pregnancy and delivery related was tough.  I can’t give birth the old fashioned way but I do get to nurse them. I love nursing. I love the nuzzling and little grunts. I know that if I formula fed I would still have these things, but there is something in me that is so very grateful that I am able to nurse.

We nursed and dozed off and on and before long Bob-Bob and The Boss came to visit! My stomach was jangling with nerves. How would this be? Would The Boss be happy? Mad? I needn’t have worried. Grandpa held Huck and Max tentatively leaned over, smiling his huge melt-my-heart smile and said “Hi Baby Huck”” and then Huck opened his eyes for the very first time. He not only opened his eyes but he focused on The Boss. It was amazing.

The Boss scrambled up on the green vinyl hospital couch and said “Sometimes Mommy let’s me hold the baby. I have to ask first. I am gentle with the baby. I sing a little baby song.”  lines from the book we had read every night for months about being a big brother. TOTT placed Huck in The Boss’ arms and he smiled and squealed “I’m a Big Brother”

And my heart grew three sizes. Grinch style.

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Am Huge.

Am huge.

DUDES! One month!! We made it one whole month of keeping Baby2ElectricBoogaloo in the belleh!! I’m supah jazzed about this because, duh, 34 weeks is way safer than 30, know what I mean? Plus it’s looking like this kid is staying put for a while longer. I’m happy with that, although I gots to admit that I am getting way uncomfortable!

My contractions really seem to be slowing down, I even went three whole days without one! But at other times, Holy Infant of Prague it feels like a vice is just squeezing me corset style. Guess what? That hurts like the devil and makes me want to howl at the moon like those werewolves in Twilight. (p.s. watched Twilight the other day and why? Just why? Why is ONE supernatural dude in love with Boring Bella, much less two? She’s sullen, monosyllabic, and doesn’t even attempt to be nice to your vampire parents when they make Italian food!)

So with one month of keeping this kiddo in we have also reached ONE MONTH OF NO COFFEE!!  I had to break up with coffee to keep this kiddo in, and it was so worth it. But it begs the question, do I chase the Green Mermaid (bucks) once I pop this kid out? Or stay clean and pure? And also, does this count as one miracle towards my sainthood? Miracle One…lives with mother in law and likes it. Miracle two…quit coffee. I think it it does.

Obviously the answer to the difficult coffee question is heck no! Once that epidural wears off someone bring me a Sugar Free Vanilla Soy latte STAT!

The Boss is suffering his own withdrawals. One month of broken boos. He asks every single day to nurse and every day I tell him the Doctor says the boos are broken and he responds “No I think he said they are fixed!” It makes me sad and happy all at the same time, and honestly I am kind of glad I never got to have that last boo-ing session, because I would have been a wreck. It was better this way, like the mean Russian woman who used to distract me with some outrageous statement before she ripped my lady biz hair free. I would never had willingly done it, but now it’s done oh hey! that’s great! So while I am pleased with the results of ripping off the boo-ing without warning, suddenly The Boss seems so…big. And cuddly! No one told me that he would get cuddlier! Mama likes.

I wonder when he will stop asking to nurse. And what sort of technicolor tantrum can we expect when he sees me boo the new baby? He is nothing if not dramatic.

No idea where he gets that from.

I predict many ice cream distractions and lots of new toys.

 

MIlk Machine


 I’ve joined a Mom Bloggers Club (shout out MBC!) and I’m totally overwhelmed trying to figure it out all. I’m not all that tech savvy, and it’s a lot to go through and I’m trying to actually read all the blogs.There are a lot. And a lot of them are fan-friggin-tastic. Funny, witty, sweet, wry and just plain fabulous.  And it occurred to me that all of these women, though they are funny and snarky, they support the hell out of each other! 

I love this, and truly hope to be more a part of that community. Especially when in real life sometimes women aren’t all that supportive. Nothing polarizes us more than our children  and our opinions on what is right in raising them.
I’m a breast feeding mom. (This blog is all about bodily functions isn’t it?) But I never thought I would be. (Stick with me, I’ve got a point.) Breast feeding always freaked me out. Even the name. Breast feeding. Ick. I still prefer ‘nursing’ it’s a bit more civilized. When Zach and I had been dating about 6 months I knew he was the one, he knew I was the one, our parents knew it, everyone knew it! All that was left was for him to pop the dang question, so we arranged a lovely Christmas trip to NYC with our families so his parents could meet my mom and this whole thing could move forward. We had such grand plans for that trip, but it was ridiculously crowded so there was no frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity or ice skating at Rockefeller’s for us. We did get to do the Met, which was awesome. In fact that picture of me talking to the statue just to the right is from that very day! The Egyptian exhibit was especially cool. My mother loves Egypt, growing up we had a whole Egyptian inspired living room. In the fifth grade I did a book report on the Egyptian Book of the Dead (that’s not weird at all right?). For some reason it was smack in the middle of the Egyptian exhibit that my mother in law brought up babies. Did I want them? Would I breast feed them? 
MIL: are you going to nurse?
ME:I don’t know…it kinda freaks me out, my mom didn’t so probably not.
MIL: (steps forward): Stephie you have too. 
ME: (stepping back) I’ll think about it, but ya know some people their milk never even comes in!
MIL: (steps forward) It’s so good for the baby.
Me: (stepping back) I know but…
MIL: (steps forward) you’ll love it, and the bonding with the baby is amazing
etc. etc. etc. until I found myself pinned against a mummy. Honestly, there I was in the middle of the Met smack dab against some ancient Pharaoh’s mummy totally panicking while my mother in law (to be) gave me the what for about nursing! I’d also like to remind you that my mother in law is 4’10”. Legally she should be in a booster chair when she is in a car. She’s little.
When I got pregnant I was still on the fence about it, but Dub who is infinitely cooler than I am and just a little bit more earthy was all for it. So, by about 20 weeks I was ‘thinking about it’. By 30 weeks I was ‘gonna give it a try’. By 35 weeks I was determined to make a go of it for at least two weeks. By 37 weeks I was totally doing it…at least until my mother in law came to visit. My darling friend Wendee sent me her very expensive breast pump which gave Dub and I the giggles. I couldn’t believe anyone would do that to themselves! It’s just so silly! We had no idea.
After my C-section when I finally got to the room and they finally, finally brought me my little one he finalized the decision for me. Little bugger latched right on and hasn’t let up since! And I love it. I will cry a river when he weans, and it will be him that weans cause I want to nurse him until it’s not icky. 
I’ve never understood the formula vs breast milk war. Each mommy has to make the right decision for themselves and their baby. Now that Max is nine months old  he isn’t quite the nurser he was. Now it’s a little sip, sit up, look around maybe talk a little bit, lean back for another little drink. Sit up, look around, lather, rinse, repeat. It’s even more difficult to nurse in public since he hates to be covered.  He’s at that stage where he wants to do things for himself, and that includes stealing your cup and drinking your water. So I dragged it out, that gorgeous pump and subjected myself to what is surely one of the silliest and possibly most humiliating experiences of motherhood. I pumped. Weird, but the freedom! I can wear non easy access shirts!
So Max and I are at the mall (quell surprise!) and Max is chowing down on his pumped milk in a BPA free bottle and this woman hustles up to me and says “You know he should be getting breast milk. Breast is best.”
Uhhh F-you very much lady! I’m standing there, mouth agape trying to decide if I should let her have it or say nothing and she just keeps on going. Now, you’ve seen my piglet, he’s pink and juicy. He’s got rolls, his rolls have rolls. He’s probably got hidden rolls so it’s not like he looked malnourished. She’s going on and on and on about breast milk and finally I get it together enough to say “Not that it’s any of your business but it IS breast milk!” Max looks at her and smiles that melt-your-heart-smile and hiccups. Without missing a beat she says “You know, if you take a little string off your shirt, it has to be a white one, and you roll it up into a little ball and put it on the soft spot of it’s head he’ll stop hiccuping.” Turns on her heel and walks away. 
Max and I look at each other and he gives me this chuckle, as if to say “Consider the source Mommy.”
OK, maybe I didn’t really have a point, but it was a weird exchange. 
And I love that pump.