Michaelisms

The last week and a half have been filled with snatches of alertness. Michael spends a bit more time awake (mind you it's not much time). I love seeing his great big adoring eyes looking up at me while he eats. And we chat every morning after breakfast. That's when he's most smiley. It's fast becoming one of my most favorite times of the day. 

My ultimate favorite time is late at night right before bed. We turn off the overhead light in our room and with only the light of our bedside lamps we watch Michael get sleepy. In between sleepy and extremely tired (which can also equal very mad) we give him a million loves and snuggles. I love sharing bedtime with my boys. 

Macho man is Michael's theme song only we've changed the word macho to fatso. I know you're humming that tune now... He's gaining weight and inches like crazy! He weighs 9 lbs 6 oz now. 

Michael always crosses his ankles when he eats. And most days he likes to clutch my finger during meal times. My brother said babies are like hobbits; breakfast, second breakfast, lunch, afternoon snack... It's so true. But if mealtime includes adoring eyes and little fingers I'll take it over almost anything else.

When he cries, Fatso Man sounds just like a bobcat. And if he's not quite mad enough to cry he grunts. Between the kid communicating and husband imatating there is a lot of grunting at our house.

Look, I'm a Mom

I've started writing this post nearly 100 times. I say to myself, quite often in fact, "I'm a mom now, I should blog about it." But getting all my thoughts and these new memories and special moments down on the paper of the internet sometimes seems invasive, and sometimes feels downright exausting. I know that sounds like an excuse because the beauty of blogging is pajamas and no one would know I hadn't even taken a shower. 

This post might also feel difficult because there are a lot of memories from the last four weeks that I would rather forget than memorialize forever to the people of the internet. 

I don't, for example, care to remember what I thought was a UTI actually turning into all but one of ten stitches "down there" falling out way too early. Let's just say when your child decides to enter this world as a freight train there is the damage of a nuclear blast going on in the nether regions. Trauma like that gets stitched up to look like my mother's attempts at making me domestic. I will never claim I know a lick about cross stitching...

I would also rather forget the first three weeks of nursing, and loosing what felt like three layers of skin off each nipple. (That's a combined six layers of epidermis for the record.) I really wish I had selective amnesia for the week my body turned into its own personal allergy and I had hives all over my body.

But for all the crazy recovery, every emotional eruption, the blood, the tears, the hurting and lack of sleep, for all the doctor visits and prescriptions and restrictions of the last four weeks, I finally know exactly where I belong. I know more about my purpose and my role and I love every single part of motherhood. 

Mom status has increased my love for JR in ways I didn't even know I could feel. Michael Blake has taught me to love in ways I never understood. My heart isn't mine anymore. It completely and purposefully belongs to my little family. 

Due Date Musings

Today, August 5th, is my official due date. Which clearly means nothing, because incidentally, today, August 5th, Michael Blake is 10 days old. From the very moment he decided it was time to meet the world, he defied every prediction. Every. Single. One.

Them: "Your baby is going to be BIG"
Michael Blake: I think I'll weigh 7 lbs 11 oz.
Them: "First-time moms rarely have early deliveries"
Michael Blake: 10 days early sounds just right.
Them: "Typical labor for a first-time mom is around 12 hours"
Michael Blake: Let's get this over with. 54 minutes is all it really takes.
Them: You tested positive for group B strep
Michael Blake: I don't have time to wait for an IV and penicillin.
Them: "What's your birth plan?"
Michael Blake: I'll show you birth plan. 

At 5:11 AM on July 26th I was fast asleep. At 5:12 AM, HEH-low. My water broke and so did all H E double hockey sticks. I woke JR up and told him we needed to leave. Now. I don't think either of us really believed me, because we had planned to labor at home for awhile and I have never experienced labor pain, so what is happening? We somehow made it to the car anyway. Husband got every bag, blanket and the car seat (some of which he carried in his teeth) out to the car before he realized I was missing. He rushed back inside to find me in the kitchen unable to move.

Husband: "babe, let's go I'll help you walk out to the car."
Me: (pants in hand) "Don't touch me." I can't move, I'll probably have this baby in the kitchen... wait 30 seconds, "Okay, let's go."

I managed to get my pants half way on in the driveway (sorry neighbors) but let's face it, not a top priority at that point.

JR called the doctor on the way to the hospital and only had to run 2 red lights! The doctor asked to talk to me... Um, not a good time. "So you think your water broke?" Correction: my water DID break. "Was it clear?" YES! *breathe, breathe, breathe* "Was is odorless?" YES! (I may have lied, because really, I never checked. But c'mon!) I should mention that up to this point we had planned on using some hyponobirthing exercises to keep me calm and relaxed during contractions. JR started into one such exercise and I almost bit his head off. NOT GOING TO WORK, HUN!

We got to the hospital and I was paralyzed again. JR sprinted inside to get a wheelchair and probably to warn the nurses. I managed to get out of the car, pull my pants up the rest of the way and sit in the wheel chair, I'm not sure how. At that point JR wanted, probably desparately needed, some medical backup so he told me, "I'm just going to wheel you into labor and delivery as fast as I can." "You will stop this wheelchair if and when I tell you to stop." I informed him. What a snot...

A nurse calmly guided us to a room and gave me a hospital gown. She left us to change and said to call if we needed anything. As soon as she left I told JR "I think I need to push." He catapulted across the bed to alert a nurse via the call button before the door even latched shut.

The nurse came back when she was ready, and when she guessed we were changed, rolling her eyes at a dramatic first time mom. Okay, not really rolling, but I know what she was thinking! I was leaning against JR in the middle of the room when the nurse came back in and again, COULD. NOT. MOVE. It gets to be a bit of a pattern in this story...

They told me I needed to get up on the bed, but it seemed like the most difficult thing in the world. So instead she checked me right there in the middle of the room. All I heard was, "She's complete and baby's a plus 2." At that point things kicked into high gear and those nurses believed me. I somehow made it onto the bed. A few weeks earlier I had tested positive for group B strep so they rushed to get an IV and start me on penicillin. Hopeless attempt.

The doctor got there, checked me again and said she felt a head. See? Told you my water broke. At that point doctor decided I needed to move again. Me: paralyzed AGAIN. I literally didn't know how to move. JR had to tell me precisely where to place each appendage inch by inch. 

Once husband had situated myself it took three pushes and Michael Blake was here, screaming his little guts out like this whole thing wasn't his idea at all. 

I looked at my perfect baby boy and all I could say was; "how did that happen?!" Seriously.

Becoming a mama has filled every last piece of my heart. For the past 9 months I have been loving something in theory, but this little boy has put a face to a deep and sacrificial kind of love. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for him. He completes our little family. I love you, Michael Blake.