Hey! Everybody! Meet Little Lady Lola!

Whelp, it's official, I had a baby.

Miss Lola Ann was born August 7, weighing in at a robust 8 lbs, 9 oz and measuring 20.5 inches long. She has a head full of brown hair, and beautiful blue eyes, 10 fingers, 10 toes and quite a pair of lungs. She enjoys eating, sleeping, pooping and being worn in her carrier as mom shops or eats while trying not to drop food on her.

Smiley Little Lady, Two Days Old

What? What's that? You want to hear the story of the day she was born?

OK! And for those of you not in the know, you can read TJ's day-of-my-birth story here.

So it was a Monday like any other. My mom was in town and I had stayed home from work that day, as I was 41 weeks pregnant and no longer amused by schlepping, well, anywhere, but especially to work. We watched the Olympics that evening (what else), I read blogs (what else), peed a lot and did my best to ignore the aches and soreness in my abdominal area that had become routine over the past couple weeks.

Tom was working that night and as soon as I talked to him at 10 p.m. when he got off work and he told me he was going out for a drink with some of his co-workers, I just knew our late little bundle of joy would be arriving that night.

And I was right!

I went to bed around 12:30 a.m. and that's when I noticed the achey soreness in my abdominal region had started to come and go in a bit of a pattern. It didn't hurt enough to really bother me so I did my best to relax and rest until Tom got home.

Fast forward to 2 a.m., Tom got home and came to bed.

Me: "Don't get too comfortable."

Tommy: "Why?....Seriously?"

Me: "Yeah buddy, this is definitely happening." <I make large circular motion with my arm over my giant baby bump area>

Tommy: "I knew it! I knew if I went out it would happen today...and I was right!"

Me: "Yeah, I knew it too. Rest while you can, I haven't timed anything but these suckers are definitely getting closer together."

He didn't listen. Tom tried his best to lay down and relax for approximately 3 minutes, before he insisted I call the midwife, then go sit in the tubby, and he began his pacing.

So that's what I did. The midwife (her name is Faith and she's awesome) told me to stay home as long as I was comfortable and to shoot for having my contractions be 5 minutes apart for about an hour before coming in.

Thank Jeebus we didn't listen to her!

I sat in the tub for about 20 minutes, TJ "randomly" woke up (ahem Tom, loudest laugher ever), and my contractions got more intense and closer together. Tom had called his mom to share the news already, and it was at about this time that Tom's stepdad Ken texted and told us to "stop dicking around and get to the hospital."

Sound advice, Ken.

I got dressed, called the midwife to tell her we were on our way, we zipped up our hospital bag (which had been packed for like a month and a half), took one last picture with T as a family of three, and headed out the door.


Headed to the hospital - last photo as a family of three.

I proceeded to have three contractions on the walk to the car, then three more in the car, then three more during the 100 yard walk from the parking garage to the emergency room entrance.

Once in the ER I presented the requisite ID's, as well as my pre-registration paperwork to expedite our check-in (pat on the back, me), hopped in a wheelchair and headed to OB Triage. Once there I changed into my so-stylish hospital gown, got hooked up to some stuff, and was told I was dilated to 6 centimeters. Yeah buddy.

OB Triage
 

It was about this time that Tom figured out there was a set of numbers on the monitor I was hooked up to that told when I was having a contraction and how strong it was. This was a fun discovery for him. He then provided a running contraction commentary for me for the duration of our stay in OB Triage.

After we had been in OB Triage for about 30 minutes (it was now around 4:45 a.m.), I started to get a little testy, and really hot and sweaty because the contractions were very intense and fast at this point, and all I could do was lay on this stupid gurney waiting for the nurses to complete paperwork and get me admitted. One nurse made me lay on my side, and as soon as she left my curtain cell I literally spit hatred on her name during my next contraction and then figured out a way to stand up with all the stuff still attached to me. This backfired a bit when I discovered all I could do from there was move around like a caged animal in the approximately 2.1 cubic feet of space allowed by all of the wires and cords on my person.

Finally, FINALLY we were ready to move to our delivery room and it was at this point I was basically completely immobilized everytime I had a contraction and they were only about a minute and a half apart.

We got to our delivery room a little after 5 a.m. and Tom immediately started the shower for me as I clumsily tried to put my bathing suit on. All I wanted was to escape to the sweet sweet little sanctuary that had been so comforting when I delivered T. I didn't quite get there, though. Between the nurse putting more stupid monitors on my belly, my ineptness at changing, and the fact that (Whoopsie!) my water finally broke, I didn't actually make it to a real shower until the next day.

As soon as my water broke I told the nurse (between expletives) I needed to start pushing. She ran into the hallway to get my midwife and a team of others, and the real party started. I'll spare you the intimate details, and just skip to the part where a crying baby was placed in my jurisdiction, Tommy cut the cord and at 5:26 a.m., only two hours after we  had left our house (thanks again Ken), our second little miracle came to be!

Lola
 

We took pictures, made phone calls, studied her little face and marveled at how fast it all went down. I, for one, was thanking the HEAVENS that it went so fast, as I opt for the natural childbirth method, I really don't know if I could have handled that intense of contractions for too much longer - it was seriously ridiculous. But, just like our first labor we came through it on the other side with a smile, and a healthy, seemingly content little baby! The rest of our hospital stay was uneventful. And BORING. But this time we came armed with reading material, and the Olympics was on, sooo.

Watching the Olympics, obv.


Tom needed to take a load off after the long night.
 

Fast forward to now, baby Lola is still a dream. She has assimilated very well into our little family unit so far, sleeps like 20 hours out of 24 and eats like a champion. I'm thinking she just may fulfill her daddy's wishes and become a competitive eater. Of course, he only wants that to keep the boys away, but judging by the way the child eats I would not be surprised if it came to fruition, and the only milkshakes brought to her yard are vanilla, chocolate or strawberry.

TJ is adjusting like a champion too. He came to the hospital to meet Lola that Tuesday afternoon and was more engrossed in pushing the red button on the side of my bed than he was with fawning over his new baby sister. Whatevs, he's 2. Since we brought her home there has been only one incidence of hugging too hard that basically gave me a heart attack, but other than that he's been gentle and loving, and even tries conversating with Lola.

T, Lola. Lola, T. Love each other, kay? Thanks.
 

T: <As we load up to go to the store> "Lola, you coming to the store toooo?"

Lola: <Blank stare...looks at something shiny...sees her hand move out of the corner of her eye and watches it suspiciously...>

T: <Confused as to why he is being ignored> "Momma, Lola coming too?"

Me: "Yes, boyo, Lola is coming too."

T: <Big smile> "OOOOOK! Alright!"

Me: <Big smile...accompanied by little heart flutter>

And our story continues...

Ciao from Babyland,

Christa

P.S. Enjoy this picture parade of the last three weeks...

  

Hanging out with T right after coming home from the hospital

 

My dad (Pop Pop to the kiddies) pushing the stroller on our first family walk after coming home from the hospital. That buggy is a beast.

 

Pretty Sleeping Girl

 

Lola with my mom (aka ShlimShlam, or Ding Dong) Ready for Kelly Jo's wedding

 

Teej and Lo with Pop Pop and Shlim right after the Altgilbers nuptials

 

Family pic

 

With smiley great-gramma Hitz

 

 

It's Yaya!

 

In her pretty purple tutu, a gift from Yaya!

 

First trip to Roc City to meet the fam, two of Tom's siblings Rachael and Dan (aka ChaCha and Deepers)

 

I'm Still Pregnant OR My Dwindling Faith in the Medical Community

Note: I wrote this post and then literally started having contractions about an hour later and never got the chance to make it live on the ol' blog. Since it was pretty much finished I decided to post it anyway, even though it's 3 weeks later. Deal with it.

Alright. I have to do a post on this waiting game we're playing with the impending newest addition to our family. I wasn't going to, because I probably complain too much. But I have to. Because this memoir is as much a documentation of our life journey, as it is a way for me to entertain myself in the evenings.

So my faith in the medical community continues to deteriorate at a rapid pace as we go through the continuing stages of this overdue baby ordeal. I'll utilize headers to break this up a bit for you...

The Due Date

I was essentially given two due dates. The first, the "mathematical" estimation of when the baby should be born, based on cycles and what-not, was August 4.

Ok.

The second due date, configured based on the measurements of the baby during my ultrasound was July 21.

Really all this change did was get a lot of people's hopes up, way too early in the game. As we got closer and closer to July 21 I was fairly certain there was no way she was being born anytime soon.

How I've Been Feeling

Really great until the last 10 days or so. Until a couple weekends ago I was feeling absolutely fantastic, and definitely did NOT feel like I should have delivered a baby by July 21.

Maybe this sounds weird, but I kept telling people when they asked that I didn't feel "bad enough yet" to have a baby. You know? Like, in the those last couple days and weeks of pregnancy all you want to do is sit, and that's actually the opposite of what you should be doing? And how in those last few days and weeks your body just aches and you have to kind of roll around to adjust yourself when you're sitting or need to get up.

And it's impossible to sleep because you have to wake up everytime you need to move, and then of course when you wake up you have to pee. And sometimes you wake up and don't need to move, you just have to pee, which basically translates into taking a series of 1-2 hour naps throughout the night.

And then your 2-year-old wakes you up at the butt crack of dawn, and then you have to go to work and you don't even know what day it is or if you are wearing a different shirt than the one you slept in and you completely disregard the office dress code for the millionth day in a row by wearing flip flops. 

And there are false alarms (during my first pregnancy I thought my water broke and we got all of our stuff together and went to hospital only to find out I had apparently peed myself...true story) and crampy gross feelings and occasional nausea and you can't eat very much because there's just no room, and your same sweet little 2-year-old decides his new favorite phrase is "Mama's HUUUGE" and I could go on and on.

My point is, when we reached that July 21 milestone, NONE of this was happening yet (except TJ calling me huge, that's been going on for some time), so that's what I meant when I told people I wasn't feeling "bad enough" to have a baby.

Guess what.

Now I am.

So that's a clear point for the August 4 due date, get your sh*t together medical professionals.

The Impending Threat of Being Induced

We went to our doctor's appointment Saturday morning, a regular check-up, which I had (admittedly) put off by 2 weeks for a few reasons...

#1. It's an ordeal to get to these on weekdays, as I basically have to take a freaking half-day off work to go, and Tom works on the weekends, so it's always a majah challenge.

#2. All the important stuff has been done for a while with the glucose testing and the bacteria testing and the ultrasound and what-not, and we're at the point where when I go to these appointments they're like, "Whelp, you're still pregnant, see you in a week." And I took a half-day off work for them to tell me that and DUH I already knew it.

#3. Two appointments ago when I went it was a paper skirt kind of appointment where I had to be "checked", and I sat on the exam table bare-assed with my lap covered in paper for an hour, AN HOUR, waiting for the midwife to take a look under the hood and tell me nothing was happening. I knew nothing was happening. So then the next time I went the same thing happened, only this time I put my big girl pants back on and left the doctor's office without being "checked" after waiting half-naked with nothing to read for 45 minutes. They must have remembered that I was a flight risk at this past Saturday's appointment, because Tom went out to hunt down the nurse after we had been waiting for 30 minutes to see why it was taking so long and they came in immediately and got down to business.

This past Saturday's appointment sucked, this is where we get to the...
 

Scary Inducing Stuff

Basically the midwife, we'll call her Butch, decided I needed a lecture and scolding for not having a clear due date, because it's apparently my fault. Then during my exam she decided she needed to jam her hand up there and feel the babys head through my dilated to ONE cervix (hi grandpa!), and then she got pretty testy when I emphatically told her that "YES, I know what it means, and NO, I do not want you to strip my membranes." But thanks for asking.

It really went downhill from there, as she told me we would have to do a non-stress test for the baby because according to my due date of July 21, which we had to abide by because of my irresponsibility, my placenta is now deteriorating rapidly and probably leaking, the baby is probably in distress and ingesting meconium, my fluid levels are probably really low and then she started throwing around the word "stillbirth."

Not. Even. Joking.

I mean, first of all - shut your stupid mouth, and second - hello, please go take a refresher course in bedside manner because you are unacceptable Butch, UNacceptable. And I pretty much hate you.

But Butch wasn't finished with us. The last thing she shared was that I needed to get induced. I needed to get the non-stress test as soon as possible on Monday and then when it came back as terrible, I needed to go straight up to Labor and Delivery and get induced immediately. Then she made it clear one more time that she was not pleased I wouldn't let her strip the membranes, and then she let us go.

Do you see why I'm not a huge fan of these people right now?

Needless to say, Tommy and I were both a bit shaken up when we left the appointment.

Until today, of course, when we both breathed a giant sigh of relief because guess what Butch, the non-stress test went great. Baby is great, heart rate is strong, placenta is great, fluid levels are better than great, my blood pressure is great, ultrasound looked great, and I feel crampy and terrible - so we know we're close to getting it done our way, with no stripped membranes or drug-induced labor.

Hazahh!

And So We Wait...

Apparently this unborn child is teaching me a lesson. I know what you're thinking, that it's a lesson in patience - but that's not even what I was going to say. I'm probably the most patient person you've ever encountered in your life -- stop laughing dad. For real though, I've got tons of the stuff, nothing fazes me.

I think this baby is teaching me a lesson in making other people wait...and THAT, I am notorious for. And she wants me to see how it feels, and know it's unacceptable for me to continue doing it, and that she will now be graciously assuming the crown for Queen of Making Others Wait for Seemingly No Good Reason so that I no longer have to be the rude one, but she will since she's tiny and cute and "doesn't know any better." So really, she's doing me a huge favor right now by not being born yet. And telling me she wants us to be a team.

See how I did that?

Really winning all over the place.

Except for with the length of this memoir post. Apparently I had a lot to say - shocker. And sorry there are no pictures. Nothing really fit the content on this one.

Except this photo...


Meet Butch.

So if that's the best I could do, I'm actually not sorry there are no pictures at all.

And The Waitee Has Become the Waiter...

Christa

Prepping for Pain Party Oh-12...Yes, I'm Going for Another Natural Childbirth

What. Who even does that? Elects to try for a double-dip after experiencing the agony of a natural childbirth the first time around?

Oh, this girl.

Bring it.

And by that I mean, please dear God let it be faster and less painful this time.

We're getting close over here people, and I'm just as pumped and excited for baby girl's arrival, as I am dreading it. (You can read our TJ birth story here.)

Super fresh, minutes-old baby TJ

The other day I was at lunch with some co-workers and one of them asked me what had even made me consider having a natural childbirth, so I thought I would share my thoughts with the four of you out there as well. And just so we are clear - I make absolutely no judgements here.

Labor sucks.

It hurts.

Bad.

Like, nuclear-bomb-went-off-in-my-abdomen-and-is-ripping-through-my-body-and-I-can-feel-it-in-my-teeth-and-legs-and-fingertips-and-hair-and-eyeballs-and-it's-not-going-away-and-I'm-probably-DYING bad.

Everyone makes their own choices for how they bring their children into this world and I do not begrudge anyone who chooses to beat the pain with medicinal support.

It's just not my preference.

In the beginning I decided I didn't want to use drugs during my labor because it honestly just doesn't make sense to me. It makes zero sense in my brain that for the nine months preceding childbirth I am not allowed to eat fish, or take medicine, or drink alcohol, or ingest unpasteurized food and drink, or pick up dog poop, and on and on, because doing so could possibly maybe have a chance of hurting the baby. BUT at the 11th hour - during labor - it's somehow ok for me to have anesthesia intraveneously administered while my baby is still inside and attached to me?

I don't get it.



How does that NOT get to the baby?

I'm not a doctor, and I'm not claiming to know anything about medical science, but if you're telling me it's not ok to take cold medicine while I'm pregnant, but I can have serious anesthesia administered during labor, I can't process that. I just don't get it.

Dadda supervising the APGAR proceedings. I took this picture!

So that was the genesis of my not wanting to use drugs during my labor...

And then I watched The Business of Being Born.

First of all, put your giant nips away.

And second, yikeserwhoayowza.

After watching this documentary hours upon hours of research ensued on my part, as my curiosity on the effects of anesthesia on the unborn, and then born, baby was piqued, and to be objectionably honest (personal feelings aside) it was pretty inconclusive. Studies have been done by both sides, those for the use of anesthesia, and those against. But from what I can tell it's a stalemate. They just continue to "disprove" one another's "conclusive evidence," and so the dance continues.

What really blew my mind, though, is that there are serious ANTI-natural childbirth folks out there. To the point of basically declaring war on groups like Lamaze, which is all about natural childbirth.

What?

But why?

To cut through the bullshit The way I understand it, the "PC" argument they pose here is that women should not endure the pain of childbirth, simply because they don't have to. These anti-naturals don't see the point in enduring that pain, when there are approved and effective drugs available to just disappear the pain away. "It's surgery." NBD.

Discovering this led me to do more research, as I forced myself to read every horror story personal diatribe I could find written by women who had had a natural childbirth, and what it was like, as well as stories from women who had used drugs, and what their experience had been like.

Neither side painted a real pretty picture of labor, which I was grateful for, because I wanted to know exactly what I was in for. And I'm not going to get into the "she said - she said" here, because anyone reading this is perfectly capable of doing their own reading (start here), and for me to share the particularly poignant stuff that resonated with me would certainly come off as preaching.

But I will say, without a doubt, I was far more disturbed at the terrible tales told by those women who had used drugs during their labor, than I was by the women who had not used drugs, and ended up with a negative childbirth experience.

For me, I think it's also that when you use the drugs, you essentially give up control. You put the decision-making power of your labor - the birth of your child - into another person's hands from the beginning. That doctor doesn't knooooow you, and doesn't know your baby, you have no idea what that person's intentions are or what preoccupations they may have that day - I feel it's probably wise to be at my witty best in this kind of situation, not potentially numb, sleepy, loopy, distracted, and/or sick.

Minutes after being born...Welcome to the World Little Man!

I'd like to start out with the power to make my own choices for my own child's birth, and if something happens and I have to relinquish that power for the safety and health of my child, then so be it.

So pregs out there - it's important to know your options, do the research, and decide what you want for the birth of your child. No one else can make the decisions for you. Be your own advocate. Be informed about things like epidurals and pitocin and what a low heart rate is for the baby during labor and dilation and scraping cells and the bag of waters.

Be in control. And most importantly BE INFORMED.

I choose to forgo the meds. I can take the pain, so I choose to take it - how can anyone have a problem with that? I don't recall anyone ever dying simply from pain, and I want to ensure I have the option of having the power and cognition to preside over how my baby is born, so that's where I'll start.

My first labor was 16 hours long, and the way I look at it that's 16 hours of my life, for potentially the entire rest of my baby's life, and that's totes worth a little bit of hellacious, teeth-gnashing agony.

After we walked (yes I walked) to our room.

And there you have it. My feelings on natural childbirth, why it's my choice and why it's very important to me. 

One last thought I reflect on constantly that helps me keep everything in perspective...

When I was prepping for T's birth I read a passage somewhere, written by someone a lot smarter than me (how's that for citing a source?) that essentially said, there is no time in a human beings life where they are more fragile or compromised than when they are being born.

That thought helps me keep my preferences and ideals in check, and keep the health of the baby first and foremost in my brain. If I end up having to get an unplanned emergency c-section so my baby is born safely and as healthily as possible, so be it, I'm down. But I'd like to try to experience the single most incredible, empowering and proud moment of my life one more time - to birth my baby naturally, without the synthetic assistance of medicinal substances.

First family photo, home sweet home with our 24-hours old little bundle.

Good luck out there pregs.

With that, I bid you (and this behemoth post) adieu...

Christa

It's a Bouncing Baby Boy!

Hopefully this isn't news to anyone, but - we had a baby boy!!

Thierry (tea-AIR-ee) James Parr was born at 8:26 p.m. on Sunday, August 15 in Modesto, CA, he weighed in at a robust 8 lbs, 4 oz and was 21 inches long...and he's quite a looker, if I do say so myself :) He has his daddy's lips and chin and his mommy's eyes and long arms/legs/fingers. I stare at him a lot. It's not creepy, though, 'cause he's my baby.

Wait...What's that? You wanna hear about D-Day? Okay! Here goes...

4ish a.m. - I awaken with that familiar middle of the night feeling...I have to pee. Ugh. And what is this crampy ache in my abdominal region? Sweet. Thanks for the pleasantness, pregnancy.

5ish a.m. - I have to pee again. And why does my stomach-area still hurt?!

6ish a.m. - OMG, really?! Pee, AGAIN?! Ow...this pain is not subsiding. Looks like my good friend Braxton (Hicks, that is) is here to ruin my morning. I have trouble falling asleep.

7ish a.m. - I awaken from a fitful doze and in my sleepy haze decide to get up and move around to get rid of these ridiculously strong Braxton Hicks contractions.

So I pick up the house. And, it didn't work at all.

I take Miley for a walk. The pain did not subside.

I stretch. No dice.

I realize...These are not fake contractions.

By this time it is almost 9 a.m. and I use my crack deductive reasoning skills to review the mornings events...I had experienced Braxton Hicks plenty of times before, had even been woken up by them, but they had never felt like this and they always went away as soon as I got off my duff and started moving around. The pain I was experiencing was also pretty rhythmic - coming and going in a consistent pattern, and had gradually gotten worse over the past few hours. Sooo...really?...Great Odin's Raven! I'm gonna have a baby today!

9 a.m. - Tommy began to stir from his rock-like slumber, fighting through a moderate malaise after our big night at karaoke the evening prior.

Me: "Good morning sunshine!"

Him: "(indecipherable grunt)"

Me: "I'm gonna need you to perk up mister, cause we are having a baby today..."

Him: (pause...eyes open...left eyebrow lifts quizzically) "Yeah right."

Me: "No, I really think this is it! I've been having contractions for hours!"

Him: "Really? It's not another false alarm?"

Me: "No way dude, that was amateur hour, this is the real deal, promise."

The malaise disappeared...And so the day began.

(I didn't blog about the second false alarm that had taken us to Labor and Delivery the week prior. I thought my water broke so we got all of our stuff together, grabbed some pillows, stopped at the store for snacks and headed to the hospital only to find out I had merely pissed myself. It's okay...go ahead and laugh. Yep, get a nice hearty chuckle.)

2ish p.m. - Fast forward a bit, we headed to the hospital at about 2 in the afternoon. By this time my contractions were consistently about 50-60 seconds long and coming every 4-5 minutes. We had talked to both of our moms and informed them, much to their exuberance, we were having a baby today. The car ride to the hospital was one of the most painful parts of the whole experience...I dunno why, but I did not like riding in that car. I refused to ride in a wheelchair up to Labor and Delivery...it felt so much better to be up and moving around. I had two contractions in the hallways. Probably pretty fun for the passers-by to witness, haha.

Upon arrival to L&D we went to stop #1 - observation, where they hooked me up to a couple monitors to check the baby's heart rate and the strength of my contractions. It was a paper skirt kind of observation and we were informed that I was fully effaced, already dilated to 5 cm and had a "bulging" bag of waters. 5 cm?? Sweet! Halfway there! I was incredibly encouraged to learn this, as we seriously wanted to have a natural childbirth.

We were quickly escorted to stop #2 - our own personal delivery suite, where I would continue to labor until the baby arrived. Our nurse, Johanna, hooked me up to a couple portable monitors so I could move around and inserted my IV line. It was at this point we made it clear, under no uncertain terms, we wanted a natural childbirth and no painkillers or drugs were to be offered. After about 10 minutes of meandering around the room, I changed into my bathing suit and proceeded to the steamy, relaxing comfort of the shower...where I stayed for nearly five hours.

Tommy was fantastic, to say the least. He was present, but didn't hover, he was supportive, but not in the annoying cheerleader-y fashion, he was happy to serve my every whim and he provided perfect counter-pressure in just the right spot when I had contractions in my back. He kept me relaxed and laughing between contractions, and repeated my mantra of "I can do this...I can do this" with me while I grunted, whimpered and breathed my way through the countless chaotic contractions. Can't say enough good things about the man and his support - especially when the going got tough later in the game. He was definitely my rock.

7:45 p.m. - I had to get out of the shower to get "checked" by the mid-wife, who informed me I was dilated to 9.5 and while she was checking me, my water finally broke. And the real party started.

8:10 p.m. - We started pushing. I'll just spare you the gory details. Quite possibly the most disgusting 16 minutes of my life ensued.

8:26 p.m. - The final push, aaaaaaand...Tommy lets go of my hand, performs some sort of muted jumping action and excitedly exclaims "It's a boy! Oh my gosh, it's a BOY!! Baby, IT'S A BOY!" Seconds later a slimy, whitish creature was placed on my belly, where he promptly pooped on my leg while Tom cut his umbilical cord. Our minutes-old child was then whisked to the corner of the room to be cleaned up, with Tomas close behind. No one bothered to wipe up the poop on my leg, however. They're lucky I had other things on my mind...Well, I suppose they were lucky I was too overcome with emotion to care, would be a more accurate assessment, but whatev :)

The next hour or so is one I will never ever forget for as long as I live.

Tommy and I held the baby.

And stared at him.

Counted his little fingers and toes, kissed his little head and decided which parts of him looked like who.

We listened to music (we had downloaded several "baby day" songs specifically for this time) and marveled at the fact that we were now someones parents.

We texted friends and family, passing along the good news and sharing first pictures. The baby started fussing at one point while I was texting, and I received my first scolding from Tom to stop ignoring the baby in favor of firing texts :)

We did it, and were beyond happy and proud. We made it through the 16 hours of labor, and had accomplished our goal of a natural childbirth, to welcome a happy, healthy baby boy.

This song is my favorite one from our baby mix, and I'll think of this first hour with our boyo everytime I hear it...

10ish p.m. - With both me and T fresh, clean and diapered we moved on to stop #3 on the Kaiser assembly line - the postpartum room. This is where we would remain until we left the hospital. The baby slept in the room with us in a little bassinet on wheels, I got a sweet hospital bed that moved like those old people beds in commercials at the touch of a button (it was complete with a waterproof covering!), and Tom was stuck on the crappy "pull out" foam pad couch in the corner...his own private post-partum depression.

The first night was moderately exhausting, albeit uneventful. Thierry woke up several times, and a nurse came in to check on us nearly every hour. I was still too smitten to care about sleep, though, and emerged in the morning still wearing a smile. Tom got us breakfast and we hung out with the baby. And hung out some more. And more. And eventually (around 10 a.m., I think) decided we had had enough of the hospital and wanted to get home as soon as possible. Apparently this was odd to the hospital staff, who seemed taken aback when we told them we wanted to head out that day.

What can I say...it was boring!

We completed all the formalities, TJ and I were both medically cleared to go home, and we made the short trip down 99 to 510 Lottie Ave., and welcomed our baby boy home for the first time :)

And that's the story of how our own little miracle came to be. I hope you enjoyed reading it, we definitely enjoyed living it!

CP...Over and out :)

The Scare

So, I've gotten some questions/inquiries regarding the "scare" I referred to in my last blog that took us to Labor and Delivery a few weeks ago. Not to dimish the necessity for "being careful" or the potential terribleness that can take place during pregnancy, but it really wasn't a big deal. So let's have the story...

I was at work preparing for a game, Tom was at the ballpark too, and I "spotted" a bit, as they call it, which was immediately followed by further abonormal...stuff...and I can't go into more detail than that because bodily fluids skeeze me out. "But Christa, you live with Tom Parr, King of Gross Things and Bodily Excretions," yes, yes I do. And because of this I am near my daily quota for talk of things that exit ones body - in whatever form they come, be it liquid, solid or gas, and hereby give my word that no further graphic detail regarding "the scare" will be given.

Back to the story...Kaiser (our insurance provider) has a 24-hour advice line, so after about 2 minutes of internal detate I figured I should call if there was any question in my mind at all. After answering their battery of questions the head Nurse Practitioner in L&D (that's code for Labor and Delivery) said she wanted to see me, and it would be best if I came right in. "But don't panic," she told me.

Alrighty, then.

So, not panicking, I told my boss (one hour before a game, gates were open and people were arriving at the ballpark) that I needed to go and I was taking the P.A. Announcer with me. I went to the press box and, not panicking, I told Tommy we needed to go, arrangements were made in about 20 seconds for us to do so seamlessly, and we headed to the hospital. Upon arrival I was forced to ride in a wheelchair (the whole time hearing my brother in my head saying, "What are you?...Handicapped?" because I didn't think I needed the chair), we check in to L&D where they promptly collected my information for billing purposes (capitalism at its finest), and then we headed into the exam room after I changed into a stylish tie-front mumu and hospital-provided cozy socks with rubber treads on the bottom. I'm quite proud to say Tommy and I remained calm and collected throughout the whole ordeal. I was hooked up to a baby heart monitor, which registered the babies heart rate and allowed us to hear the sweet sweet sound of the heartbeat loud and clear. The NP felt my belly ("Oh, it's still soft, that's good.") And asked if I was having contractions. "They'll feel like menstrual cramps," she told me. "I've never had a menstrual cramp," I replied. She just looked at me, to which I said, "I have no idea what I'm in for, huh." She just smiled and shook her head.

The doctor eventually found us (we were about to take bets on whether or not he got lost)and after a short, but make no mistake, thorough, exam he pronounced everything to be perfectly fine. "Wierd stuff happens sometimes," he told us. The main concern would have been that there were ruptured membranes, which is fancy doctor-speak for saying my water had broken. But it didn't - all membranes were intact and everything was as it should be. So, I begrudgingly (sense the sarcasm) changed out of my mumu and tire socks, we breathed a collective sigh of relief, and went home.

So that's the story for all who wanted to hear - and for those who didn't, well, you just got to know me a little better on the "I'm-not-sure-I-can-look-you-in-the-eye-the-next-time-I-see-you" level. We have had no issues since, everything has been fabulous - not even anything I would consider calling the advice line about. I took the day off after "the scare" and have been careful to rest plenty ever since. Okay. Tommy still tells me to slow down and refuses to let me do work sometimes, but I'm getting better at restraining myself. That's all for now, more to come. Stockton rules.