I really wanted to have a natural birth but it just didn't happen that way. Julia was anticipated to be at 8 pounds, way too big for me and the Dr. was eager to get her outta me. And of course I was in complete agreement and just as eager! I was definitely tired of being grossly huge, severely bloated all over and not looking forward to having to push out an 8 pound baby. So it was decided that I would be induced at 39 weeks.
There was a small part of me that wistfully wished I could've experienced the "Oh, honey, it's time!" as water gushed out of me at probably the worst time and place while I grunted and groaned in pain and Carl frantically searched for the always no where to be found hospital bag. But I think I was happier this way, knowing what was coming and when to expect it even though I was probably more nervous because of it. My nerves were probably further elevated when, after I was finally admitted, the nurse stabbed me all wrong with my first ever IV. I felt my hand gush with warm blood and heard the once chatty nurse quietly whisper "Oh damn". When I finally had the courage to turn and look, I saw my blood all over her and floor and thought "Well this is starting off well".
Other than the occasional poke and prod from random doctors and the need to go to the bathroom every half hour while dragging everything you're attached to with you, the first few hours were uneventful and sort of pleasant. I laid there and watched a lot of TV. A lot of TV. And I went through the same series of questions with each new round of doctors, nurses, and assistants; Is this your first? Do you know what you're having? Did you pick a name? Do you have any allergies? Do you mind if I check you even though I've already got my fingers up you before you get a chance to say no?
Unfortunately, the several hours of waiting meant that the drugs they were giving me was not working and they eventually upped their game and gave me the big P - Pitocin. Now, I've watched a plenty of "A Baby Story" and "Birth Day" to know that Pitocin was it. It was IT and baby was a comin' soon and that meant it was time to give me the good stuff - the epidural. I also knew, from watching all my reality tv child birthing shows, that no matter what the situation, 90% of the moms-to-be ALWAYS end up wanting the epidural. So when they came around asking if I was ready, I was all for it - granted, I wasn't really feeling much labor pains yet but that was just what I was aiming for.
Getting the epidural was almost as tough as having a c-section. The hardest part was having to bend over and hold still - the anesthesiologist kept telling me I had to bend over further which made it difficult to breathe and hard to do in the first place, I mean, hello? Did he not see the huge belly I was sportin'? But once that epidural kicked in, I could not feel a thing. I think they're suppose to provide you just enough to take the edge off but I seriously could not feel anything chest down. So when they asked me to move my legs, all I could do was giggle and think "Sure, I'll give that a try" and would mentally will my legs to move which never seemed to work. The nurses and the pink graph paper spitting out beside my head told me I was having contractions but I didn't feel a thing...until...until the epidural began wearing off on the right side of my body. This was the only point during the experience that I did the typical "I'm having this baby and I hate you" behavior by grabbing Carl by the back of his head and "strongly urging" him to get the doctors to give me more of the good stuff.
They gave me more of the good stuff and I was happy. When they told me the push, I pushed as hard as I could mentally will myself to. I was pretty sure I was about to burst a vein and pushed for an hour when the Dr. finally decided it was time to have a c-section. I remember asking if there was anything else I could do - I mean, I did take Lamaze class!! Couldn't I squat, hold onto a handle bar, get on all fours....anything?! But, at the moment, Julia was literally stuck and a c-section was a necessity!
I couldn't believe that I was getting cut! I don't know if I was disappointed, but I did know that I wasn't happy about having to be cut open! And little did I know about how bad recovery was going to be after! But truly, I felt nothing, not a thing, not even when the nurse said to me "Ok, you may feel a big whoosh, like a bus coming out of you" when they were pulling Julia out. I FELT NOTHING and it was GREAT!
Everything happened just like they did on all those damn baby shows. They pulled her out, I watched as they cleaned her off, cut her cord, measured and weighed her, and then wrapped her in a blanket. JUST LIKE ON TV! I really felt I was watching one of those shows until they brought her over for her first kiss from Mommy and I felt her warm skin against my cheek....whoa...that baby is actually mine, I thought!
What they don't show on TV is them sending dad out of the room with the baby while mom lies there for 10-15 minutes listening to the doctors and nurses gossip as they sew you back up. That glorious moment of turning into a mom is quickly over as you lay there like a slab of meat and quietly listen to the details of your nurse's inability to find a man and your doctor's need to find the right school for their kid. Once in a while they acknowledge your presence as they continue to sew away until finally, they give you a little pat on the hand and tell you you're ready to go.
Mommyhood still doesn't start right away - you shake uncontrollably for god knows how long and the only thing you want is something to drink (you can't drink anything from the moment your admitted and hooked to that IV). And afterward, you become focused on hitting the button for the automatic release of morphine or whatever pain medication they give you to numb away the horrible feeling of, well, having your gut sliced opened.
A lot less exciting than "A Baby Story" but in the end, if you asked me if it was worth it, of course it was! Though not the natural birth I wanted, it ultimately didn't matter. Had this been hundreds of years ago, I and/or Julia probably would not have made it. Thank goodness for the advancement of medicine so that now, I have a little one to tell me "no" about 500 times a day, puts herself in "time out" when she knows she's done something wrong about 2-3x a day and when it's over, comes to me and gives free kisses and hugs. That's what it's all about....
On why I started The Mamalogs...
I am a master at creating blogs. I create them and eventually abandon them with little or no regard to my audience (usually my husband) and my internal need to let it all out. I've been spilling my digital guts since 2002 - I feel like I should get some honorary props for that but I'm pretty sure about several million other people beat me to it. But this time, I promise it'll be different, The Mamalogs will have purpose as oppose to the ole "Everything and Nothing" blog days when blogging about my bowl of Lucky Charms in the morning was the meatiest post I'd have. No, The Mamalogs will have purpose, purpose because I have Julia, whose given me one of the biggest responsibilities I have to parents-to-be; to tell it like it is.
And I promise I won't abandon this one....at least not until Julia becomes a teenager and forces me to lock her in her room....
And I promise I won't abandon this one....at least not until Julia becomes a teenager and forces me to lock her in her room....
On why I "chose" full time work over part time Julia...
Over the past four months, the one major question many people have asked me was why I decided to go full time, especially when I had such a "good" gig working part time. In many working parent's eyes, I did not have the best option (which was stay at home) but I did have the not-so-bad option (which was work part time and stay at home). My deal was even better because I was making any where between 90 -110 dollars an hour. This allowed me to ideally, work 10-12 hours a week without feeling a pinch in my wallet. I know a lot of people thought I was nuts especially Carl, who was dead set against me going back to work full time. But truthfully, I was extremely unhappy professionally and those of you who are in the biz, may understand why.
Let me just preface this by saying, I love Julia more than anything in the world, more than I could ever imagine I would love her, more than I love Carl, more than I can even understand myself. It was no easy decision to leave her to my parents every day and feel jealous every time they took her on an outing and I wasn't there. I wish I could say that I went back to work full time because of my dedication to children with autism, because of my passion for my field or because I'm just a workaholic but that just isn't it. I wish I could say that it was because I love my job, I love being a supervisor, I love the kids, the parents...etc. but that's not completely it either.
Working and supervising in home early intervention cases was really tough on me both financially and mentally. It was draining me on both ends. Although it paid well, it pays what you get BEFORE taxes because you're a contracted employee. An obsessive compulsive control freak - not at all like myself - would, ideally, save a bit from each check and pay an estimate of what you owe to Uncle Sam quarterly. A Mariann-type person who also happens to live in a very expensive city, would instead, shrug her shoulders and say "I'll wait until tax time" despite their husband's dismay.
It was also draining financially because I was constantly buying new toys and because I was a supervisor, I was constantly buying program materials (binders, flash cards, pencils, copies of data sheets, dividers..etc) for every new case I had. In addition, I didn't get paid holidays or sick time and if the kids got sick and had to cancel, I either had to make up the time on a day that I scheduled to be with Julia or lose the money.
Early intervention also entails a large amount of paperwork. I spent A LOT OF TIME doing paperwork when I should've been hanging out with my daughter. Truthfully, I AM a workaholic and it DOES take some effort on my part to leave work at work. But when I was doing Early Intervention, I could not do that. I had to do a lot of work at home and being at the child's home also meant being emotionally invested in the case too. And although I chose to work part time so that I could spend time with Julia, I actually feel like I spend more quality time with her now working full time than I did then.
Mentally, it's exhausting. Many teachers I had were untrained, and I, myself, felt I wasn't growing professionally and I felt isolated. I spent a lot of time trying to train teachers or putting together presentations for workshops for other agencies. I spent a lot of time traveling from one place to another. I spent a lot of time scheduling and rescheduling. I spent a lot of time trying to find just time....
I think it works for a lot of people out there - and truthfully, I wish it worked for me. I loved working hands on with the kids, with the families and just seeing the impact I made. In fact, maybe it would've been better if I was NOT a supervisor and had less responsibility but I knew I couldn't do that either. I've been a supervisor for a very long time and it's hard going back. So eventually, I just had to stop. I still get jealous when my mom tells me how happy Julia was at the park or how she did this and that and I missed it all. But truthfully, even if I won a million dollars, I'm not quite sure I could honestly say that I wouldn't go back to work. But there are still days when I wish I was at home and at home with my baby, but ultimately, I don't regret the decision to return at all.
Let me just preface this by saying, I love Julia more than anything in the world, more than I could ever imagine I would love her, more than I love Carl, more than I can even understand myself. It was no easy decision to leave her to my parents every day and feel jealous every time they took her on an outing and I wasn't there. I wish I could say that I went back to work full time because of my dedication to children with autism, because of my passion for my field or because I'm just a workaholic but that just isn't it. I wish I could say that it was because I love my job, I love being a supervisor, I love the kids, the parents...etc. but that's not completely it either.
Working and supervising in home early intervention cases was really tough on me both financially and mentally. It was draining me on both ends. Although it paid well, it pays what you get BEFORE taxes because you're a contracted employee. An obsessive compulsive control freak - not at all like myself - would, ideally, save a bit from each check and pay an estimate of what you owe to Uncle Sam quarterly. A Mariann-type person who also happens to live in a very expensive city, would instead, shrug her shoulders and say "I'll wait until tax time" despite their husband's dismay.
It was also draining financially because I was constantly buying new toys and because I was a supervisor, I was constantly buying program materials (binders, flash cards, pencils, copies of data sheets, dividers..etc) for every new case I had. In addition, I didn't get paid holidays or sick time and if the kids got sick and had to cancel, I either had to make up the time on a day that I scheduled to be with Julia or lose the money.
Early intervention also entails a large amount of paperwork. I spent A LOT OF TIME doing paperwork when I should've been hanging out with my daughter. Truthfully, I AM a workaholic and it DOES take some effort on my part to leave work at work. But when I was doing Early Intervention, I could not do that. I had to do a lot of work at home and being at the child's home also meant being emotionally invested in the case too. And although I chose to work part time so that I could spend time with Julia, I actually feel like I spend more quality time with her now working full time than I did then.
Mentally, it's exhausting. Many teachers I had were untrained, and I, myself, felt I wasn't growing professionally and I felt isolated. I spent a lot of time trying to train teachers or putting together presentations for workshops for other agencies. I spent a lot of time traveling from one place to another. I spent a lot of time scheduling and rescheduling. I spent a lot of time trying to find just time....
I think it works for a lot of people out there - and truthfully, I wish it worked for me. I loved working hands on with the kids, with the families and just seeing the impact I made. In fact, maybe it would've been better if I was NOT a supervisor and had less responsibility but I knew I couldn't do that either. I've been a supervisor for a very long time and it's hard going back. So eventually, I just had to stop. I still get jealous when my mom tells me how happy Julia was at the park or how she did this and that and I missed it all. But truthfully, even if I won a million dollars, I'm not quite sure I could honestly say that I wouldn't go back to work. But there are still days when I wish I was at home and at home with my baby, but ultimately, I don't regret the decision to return at all.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)