Hello Again Beautiful People!

Thanks so much for allowing me a wonderful week off with my little guy… I’m surprised it took so long for the “blogger bug” to come back, but here I am! I also want to thank all of ya’ll who sent e-mails and/or Facebook messages – I truly appreciate you taking the time to write, and hope to get back to all of you soon!

We are so blessed announce the arrival of Reid Michael (Reid-a-Roonie), born Friday, May 21st at 10:20am. From the start, he’s been a sweet, agreeable little baby. I suppose that after Ryder, who’s a force to be reckoned with, we’re very tough skinned around here :)

Since every woman has this innate desire to share her labour story with anyone and everyone who asks (and sometimes with people who don’t), I thought I’d break mine down into the good, the bad and the ugly.

The Good: For those in the know, I actually had a planned c-section for Friday morning. I didn’t necessarily reveal this beforehand as I wanted to give Reid the chance to make his debut on his own terms, but like the good little baby he is, he gave his mommy a free pass from labour!

The Good: You know what happens when you have a planned birth? You stroll into L&D on the day of without a care in the world. Your hair is done, your teeth are brushed, and you try to avoid the eye of every labouring gal who strolls by you, clutching her midsection and breathing hee-hee-hoo. You fill out your paper work and joke with the nurses on duty. Hell, you even take the time to check your e-mail.

The Bad: The intravenous tube (IV). It SUCKS. I took offense to a tube being shoved up my hand. “Is it supposed to hurt?” I asked the nurse on duty. She gave me a funny look as a woman in the next room screamed in agony. “Never mind…” I responded.

The Good: My surgeon. The spitting image of Tiny Fey (no joke), the obstetrician scheduled to handle my c-section was affectionately dubbed “Stitch” by the nurses. “She uses dissolving stitches and sews with an accuracy that would make Yves St. Laurent green with envy,” the head nurse assured me.

The Good: The spinal anesthetic. One shot and you’re good to go. Literally seconds after the needle went in, I felt an icy cold tingling creep down my back. And then, before I could count to 10, I couldn’t feel my legs. Nice.

The Bad: Sometimes, besides the anesthesiologist’s best efforts, the spinal spreads a bit high. Within two minutes, I couldn’t really feel my arms. Then it seemed to spread even higher…

The Ugly: And I became semi-comatose as the anesthetic spread to my brain. The anesthesiologist jumped into action and repeatedly injected the IV with various shooters (I could see what he was doing but was too high to care). Mike asked “Are you there? Can you hear me?” in a panicked voice. Chill, I felt like saying, I’ve never felt better in my life. Rock on, Metallica.

The Good: Fabulous news! Being completely wasted helped the time fly by, and I didn’t feel, hear or process a thing. Before I knew it, in the distance I heard a baby cry. And that was all I needed to pull out of my drugged state. “It’s a boy!” Dr. Rogers exclaimed. “Let me see him,” I whispered. The nurse pulled him alongside my face so I could kiss him. “Mmmm,” I inhaled. “Baby.”

The Absolutely, Heavenly Good: My son, Reid Michael. A squirming, perfect little angel.

The Bad: Drugged states. The nausea was overwhelming. WTH? I had been fasting since the night before. What could I possibly have to throw up?

The Ugly: Oh, I see. The drugs. That’s what I can throw up. And I did; all throughout the day on Friday – green, slimy, You Can’t Do That on Television-style vomit. EIGHT TIMES. And, to add insult to injury, the nurses banned all food and liquids of any sort until I got it out of my system, which didn’t happen until Saturday morning. Sheesh.

The Good: Making Mike hold my catheter collection and IV and walking around the ward at 10:00pm. I considered it a small victory that I was on my feet just 12 hours after my surgery, but damn, did I ever feel disjointed. Mike revealed that a lactation consultant had spent one hour with me earlier that afternoon – I had no recollection of this, or of feeding the baby. Damn, how do druggies do it?

The Bad: The next day. Holy Hannah, THE PAIN. To all my c-section mamas, you know what I’m talking about. Wowzers! I couldn’t get enough Advil to save my life.

The Good: Trillium Hospital. The nursing staff was absolutely wonderful. I was even reunited with a nurse who was around when I delivered Ryder. 8,000 births later, she remembered me! Now that’s attention to detail!

The Good: My discharge papers were prepared just 48 hours after I checked in. On Sunday morning, they assured me that I was just fine, the baby was just fine, and that I could go home.

The Bad: I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to face a crazy toddler, household responsibilities, and the 16 stairs that take me to my second floor. I didn’t want to do anything but lie in the hospital bed and hide for one more day.

The Good: I love Trillium. I told them I wanted to stay, and they said okay.

The Good: Returned home on Monday morning to find Ryder absolutely enamoured with his tiny baby brother. Only a few warnings of “be gentle, don’t poke” and he seemed ready to assume the role of protector. “Weed,” he announced happily as he cuddled baby’s head. “Rrrrreid,” I corrected. “Weed,” he affirmed.

The Good: Healing. At one week postpartum, I’m off Advil and feel relatively normal, save for the intermittent pain and soreness at the incision site. I’m taking it easy and not overdoing it, but know it will take a little longer for me to feel close to 100%. Still, not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

The Good: Reid-a-Roonie comes to the bar often for a drink, and has regained his birth weight quickly.

The Bad: The bar is overstocked, and I have to pump out the excess at least 1-2 times per day to relieve engorgement. Ah well, if you’re going to do something, you may as well do it with gusto!

The Ugly: Why-oh-why do women have a milk letdown when they hear babies cry? I’ve got a two year old who throws tantrums, for Christ’s sake! I’m leaking all over the place!

So that’s my L&D and homecoming in a nutshell. I’ve got the most fabulously supportive husband who has been at my beck and call for the past week, and an awesome mama who drops by every day to do the dishes, change diapers and make sure we’re set for dinner. All in all, life is a bowl of cherries!

Hey Fabulous Readers!

Well, after last Wednesday’s scare, and a week’s worth of taking it easy with my packed suitcase by the door, it looks like baby-to-be decided to hold out until his unofficial due date. Hurray! I’m not a big fan of early birds – maybe this little dude will be on par with Mommy’s schedule.

So I’ve decided this is a good time to take a blogging break – you will probably see sporadic posts from me next week, but I don’t want to make any promises for when I’ll be back up and running (there’s a new sheriff in town and I have to abide by his rules).

I also need to apologize – originally, I had scheduled a “Giveaway Bonanza” for this time off, but after last week’s missed labour, I decided to put my feet up and take care of myself instead of scrambling to blog all the giveaways. So, I still have quite a few awesome contests lined up – they’ll just be posted in sequence over the next few weeks.

I hope you’ll check back next week and continue to tune in once I’ve returned! My husband has serious doubts that I’ll be able to stay away from the computer for long… sharing deals, reviews, tips and recipes has become so much a part of me that it’s hard to let go ;)

Wishing all of you a wonderful May long weekend! For my peeps in TO – 28 degrees today and nothin’ but sun! Woot! Woot!

Is it “sike” like the way it sounds… or is it “psyche” as in, I was totally psyched out dude!

Either way, baby-to-be decided to sike us. If you read my previous post (which I deleted because I didn’t want it populating in followers dashboards – BTW, thanks to everyone for the awesome comments! You’ll have to leave them again when it’s really time), then you’d have seen that I really thought the time had come. Well, turns out baby was just saying hi.

Earlier this afternoon, I was in Carter’s minding my own business and picking up some insanely cute burp cloths. All of a sudden, I felt this annoying wave of pain – kind of like a menstrual cramp, only worse. Uh-oh, I thought. I’ve felt this before.

By the time I paid for my merchandise (yes, I completed the purchase – nothing phases a shopaholic during her quest for goods) I honestly thought I was seeing stars – the cramps were coming with such force. I called Mike and told him that it looked like it was time.

I drove home from Carter’s (about 15 minutes away) and placed a few phone calls to family and friends, letting them know I was (oww!) quite sure that I was (breathe, he he he hoo) going into labour (sh*t! that was a strong one). When I pulled into the driveway, I found Mike sitting on the porch with our two little suitcases in front of him and Ryder on his lap.

“Geez!” I cried, “I’m not having the baby THIS SECOND!” I laughed and entered the house, where I proceeded to clean the bedroom, organize an overnight bag for Ryder and of course, blog the infamous post.

After about an hour, we were ready to go. We left Ryder at my mom’s and arrived at the hospital, where I was quickly admitted and strapped to that good old heart/movement monitor. The nurse noticed that my temperature was a bit high, and went about rehydrating me. And after two hours, like magic, the contractions settled.

What the hell???

“Does this happen a lot?” I asked. I mean, it felt like labour. Like, real labour, not Mr. Hicks or gas pains. How could the contractions disappear?

The doctor on duty explained that sometimes labour does indeed start, but then tapers off only to restart in a few hours or even days. He confirmed that I had started to dilate, which was a good sign that baby was ready, but that he was certain I could go home and just come back when the contractions started up again and were 5 minutes apart.

“Your baby was just saying hi,” he joked.

“My baby just cost me $14 in parking for nothing,” I replied.

So now we’re officially on baby watch. I’ve been advised to sit with my feet up as much as possible and restrict my physical activity if we want to keep the little guy in there longer (I’d like him to bake at least another week). At this moment, I feel absolutely fine. I’m so sorry for the sike! Funny enough, I just spent a few minutes on Facebook dispelling the rumours that baby was on his way, so perhaps I’ll just keep my mouth shut until I’m holding him in my arms, LOL.

A trouble maker already, and he’s not even here yet. Sheesh.

Woot! Woot!

I’m enjoying a cold, refreshing glass of FRUIT PUNCH as I type this, without a care in the world… because I passed all three components of the second Glucose Tolerance Test! Take that gestational diabetes!

I can’t tell you what a relief it is to not have to worry about my sugar intake. Not that I’m planning to go on a corn syrup binge or anything – but I’m happy to have the green light to give in to the occasional (read: frequent) glass of juice or piece of candy. YUM!

Thank you so much for all your supportive comments and e-mails! It means so much that ya’ll care… I’m humbled and truly appreciative.

And now – if you’ll excuse me, I see a couple of ju jubes with my name on them!

This morning, I’ll be MIA. Instead of blogging away, playing with my little guy (who has developed an obsession for walking up and down the street holding his ball) and enjoying a nice hearty breakfast, I’ll be trapped in a lab taking a two-hour glucose test.

Why a two-hour glucose test? Well, it’s simple. I FAILED the first one.

To those in the know, at 26 weeks, all pregnoids are routinely screened for gestational diabetes. Since I had passed with flying colours while pregnant with Ryder, and have never bothered to monitor my sugar intake, I felt pretty confident I’d sneak by once again when I took the initial test two weeks ago. (The first glucose tolerance test consists of drinking an Orange Crush knock-off and then sitting quietly for 1 hour. When 60 minutes has elapsed, your blood is drawn and the quantity of sugar in your blood is measured.)

The upper limit for blood glucose after this test is 7.8 mmol/L.

My score? 8.0. You’ve got to be freakin’ kidding me!

So for a mere 0.2 of a mmol (whatever that is) I now have to repeat the test, only:

a) I have to fast for 12 hours before the beginning the test – at this very moment, my tummy is rumbling and I am in a VERY poor mood