p15. Your baby is so cute! She does what?
It is really awful for me to think of the times I have looked at a little baby or toddler and listened to their parents stories - and find myself thinking “oh no”, I can see Da in their baby. Now this can be as trivial as hair color, head size with a few added behavioral things that happened to them in the delivery.
The experienced mom becomes the soothsayer of children who are going to be kids from the "place we do not say aloud". It really makes you wonder how much of the characteristics of a small child predict the future to their well-being.
When I hear comparative stories, I want to throw that flag, but do bite my tongue, let’s face it, science has proved nothing in my crystal ball and I am overly paranoid. But when I relate, no one wants to think I'm comparing them to my kid, but I am making the comparisons too.
Da’s pediatrician is pretty much the standard MD. Very professional/clinical, just not enough time to expose personality. Thus when she went for her first appointment, imagine my amazement when she picked her up and walked her around to the others doctors to say, “now this is a beautiful baby”. She was pleasantly a creamy pink, I was proud. She also had a fuller size head, have I told you about her head?
I always say that although Da was smaller than average at birth, 6.4 lbs, she had a 12 lbs. Baby’s head. This really gave me the rotten birth experience.
Da was born on her due date. We lived in an apartment and my husband was an assistant soccer coach at a university in his off hours. That evening he had three of the Keepers over and I was getting ready to rest - sat on the bed in our room and bam my water broke. I flew to the bathroom and called out to my husband, I told him I thought his players better leave.
Now I had no idea what I was getting into this evening, it is one of those empty kind of scary feelings you can have. In the bathtub was not a spilt bottle of Evian, but a watery brown mixture, which I later learned, was called meconium stain. Yes my baby had pooped inside of me. Hummm... could this have been the predecessor of her outdoor poop adventures?
As we got to the hospital I was having some nasty labor pains that were getting worse by the minute. Give me drugs. Well when they did the little exam for my dilation I feared the worse, and it was true - a whole 3 centimeters, no drugs until I was further along. After the neccessaries, my labor paints were hitting the top, and yep, still 3 centimeters, no drugs. I must have whined enough because as my husband recalls me saying “I don’t care what they say… you tell them to give me something!” and they did.
Right after my first dose through the epidural, the baby heart monitor plummeted and the rate wasn't getting any better. After a while they did a code, which brought 6 strange people to the room. My OB thought he had plenty of time to arrive because after all, I was just 3 centimeters. But with the epidural, not only did the heart rate fall, but the dilation got much bigger.
Here’s a lovely picture, pregnant woman on a bed, head in a pillow, butt in the air and strange people who don’t know her name standing behind her. One is trying to massage the baby’s head to stimulate a heartbeat - my OB, still not there yet. I was prepped for a C-section.
Things settle down, my labor continues instead of taking me into surgery they wait for my doctor.
They give me an epidural booster and bam, heart rate falls again, my doctor is finally there and in his calm state let’s me deliver without the surgery. The nurses told me he was the only one who would have done that.
Da truely was beautiful except the little bruises on her head from the forceps. But she had a problem with something, a level in her blood was not right so she went to the special care nursery. It was hard to go to the special nursery and see her pinned to a table like an animal in a science lab. She didn’t like her IV so they had her strapped her down -she kept pulling out the needle. It’s funny when you go through your families and kids history 5 zillion times for every mental health official, they always ask about the birth. Was it traumatic? Yes? What does that mean? I have no idea?
The toddler comparisons continue too, but it is small things like sleeping, playing, eating, pooping - etc.
I really don’t want to be the soothsayer of children who are going to be kids from the place "we do not say aloud", I really can't read Tara cards. It’s the baby announcements, happy birthday, baptism, first communion cards I see and worry about.
The experienced mom becomes the soothsayer of children who are going to be kids from the "place we do not say aloud". It really makes you wonder how much of the characteristics of a small child predict the future to their well-being.
When I hear comparative stories, I want to throw that flag, but do bite my tongue, let’s face it, science has proved nothing in my crystal ball and I am overly paranoid. But when I relate, no one wants to think I'm comparing them to my kid, but I am making the comparisons too.
Da’s pediatrician is pretty much the standard MD. Very professional/clinical, just not enough time to expose personality. Thus when she went for her first appointment, imagine my amazement when she picked her up and walked her around to the others doctors to say, “now this is a beautiful baby”. She was pleasantly a creamy pink, I was proud. She also had a fuller size head, have I told you about her head?
I always say that although Da was smaller than average at birth, 6.4 lbs, she had a 12 lbs. Baby’s head. This really gave me the rotten birth experience.
Da was born on her due date. We lived in an apartment and my husband was an assistant soccer coach at a university in his off hours. That evening he had three of the Keepers over and I was getting ready to rest - sat on the bed in our room and bam my water broke. I flew to the bathroom and called out to my husband, I told him I thought his players better leave.
Now I had no idea what I was getting into this evening, it is one of those empty kind of scary feelings you can have. In the bathtub was not a spilt bottle of Evian, but a watery brown mixture, which I later learned, was called meconium stain. Yes my baby had pooped inside of me. Hummm... could this have been the predecessor of her outdoor poop adventures?
As we got to the hospital I was having some nasty labor pains that were getting worse by the minute. Give me drugs. Well when they did the little exam for my dilation I feared the worse, and it was true - a whole 3 centimeters, no drugs until I was further along. After the neccessaries, my labor paints were hitting the top, and yep, still 3 centimeters, no drugs. I must have whined enough because as my husband recalls me saying “I don’t care what they say… you tell them to give me something!” and they did.
Right after my first dose through the epidural, the baby heart monitor plummeted and the rate wasn't getting any better. After a while they did a code, which brought 6 strange people to the room. My OB thought he had plenty of time to arrive because after all, I was just 3 centimeters. But with the epidural, not only did the heart rate fall, but the dilation got much bigger.
Here’s a lovely picture, pregnant woman on a bed, head in a pillow, butt in the air and strange people who don’t know her name standing behind her. One is trying to massage the baby’s head to stimulate a heartbeat - my OB, still not there yet. I was prepped for a C-section.
Things settle down, my labor continues instead of taking me into surgery they wait for my doctor.
They give me an epidural booster and bam, heart rate falls again, my doctor is finally there and in his calm state let’s me deliver without the surgery. The nurses told me he was the only one who would have done that.
Da truely was beautiful except the little bruises on her head from the forceps. But she had a problem with something, a level in her blood was not right so she went to the special care nursery. It was hard to go to the special nursery and see her pinned to a table like an animal in a science lab. She didn’t like her IV so they had her strapped her down -she kept pulling out the needle. It’s funny when you go through your families and kids history 5 zillion times for every mental health official, they always ask about the birth. Was it traumatic? Yes? What does that mean? I have no idea?
The toddler comparisons continue too, but it is small things like sleeping, playing, eating, pooping - etc.
I really don’t want to be the soothsayer of children who are going to be kids from the place "we do not say aloud", I really can't read Tara cards. It’s the baby announcements, happy birthday, baptism, first communion cards I see and worry about.
posted by ewschott at Wednesday, January 19, 2005
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