After overthinking it a bit, I’ve realised that many traditions are just sort of born out of doing the same thing this year that we did last year without much thought. So when Mika said ‘christmas can’t be here yet cause we haven’t cut down our tree!’ it became so that a tradition would be to cut down a tree (so long as we are in a place where we can do this) and of course we had to go to the same place we happened to go to last year. Two years in a row? Tradition!
But so much more awesome cause, well, Oma and Teo are here! (And also because M is at an age where decorating the tree is apparently SUPER exciting. Last year she didn’t care about this much).
And Mika had a chat with Santa. I’m not sure what they talked about, cause when I asked her about it she went all shy and said she couldn’t remember. But later this evening she ran up to me and said ‘Mama, wasn’t it so exciting that I got to see Santa today?!’
Today you are 31 days old.
I can’t believe we’ve been staring at your beautiful face for an entire month. (Read: I can’t believe I haven’t had more than 3 hours sleep in a row for an entire month.) Ha, but no – also I can’t believe how much bigger you feel in my arms already, and how tiny you still look when I see people holding you.
But here we are, back to ‘normal’ life cause your papa has now gone back to work and so it is just you and me and your amazing big sister. (Quite honestly it blows my mind how much this girl loves you. You’re a lucky boy.) And what does normal life look like? It is a midnight, a 230am, a 530am and a 7am wake up with you. It is lying in bed trying to catch one extra hour sleep between 730 and 830am while your papa makes oatmeal for your sister. It is Mika suddenly taking full charge of herself and running in to wake me up at 830am to proudly show me her choice of clothing for the day. Sometimes it is kissing your sister and papa goodbye as they go off to school and work respectively. And then we hang out at home and I watch your gorgeous face when you’re awake and I try to do other things when you’re asleep (if you let me put you down). And sometimes it is the three of us heading out to paint playground or a dance studio or the open gymnastics. And somehow everything just keeps going.
I had one of my favourite ‘duh’ moment realisations the other day. One of those ‘this is IT’ moments. One of those ‘life happens while you’re busy making plans’ sort of moments. One of the best things about first time parenthood is the complete naivety. When Mika was about 6 weeks old I wrote that she was now sleeping like 5-8 hours at night! I remember thinking ‘woohoo! this is it! we’ve made it!’ and then it wasn’t until after many many more sleepless and sleep-full nights I realised that the only thing we can be sure of it that things will change. For better or for worse or just different – things will change.
This makes second-time parenthood a little bit easier and also a little bit sadder. But what it sort of makes me think about is that I don’t want to be living in my head waiting for it to ‘get easier’. Cause it sort of won’t. It will just get different. And so instead of trying hard to make it easier, or waiting for it to get easier, I find myself accepting it for what it is and enjoying these moments that will not last: the sleepless nights, your erratic newborn breathing, the sweet smell of your breath, soothing you with breastmilk, feeling like i’m covered in breastmilk all.the.time, how you sleep on me all day long, the quiet moments when you’re awake and we stare at each other for the longest time, your jerky baby movements…all of these things will pass.
But every day I feel like I am getting to know you a little bit more and I love every second of it. Your papa and I can’t quite believe how lucky we are.
I feel like I need to get in here and write SOMETHING down because my gosh everything is flying by so quickly. It is a very odd feeling because on the one hand, my life has slowed down considerably. I have barely left the house, barely done much more than nurse, shower, eat, attempt to sleep, watch movies and listen to podcasts. Which sounds glorious no? But then on the other hand I feel like a part of me is still in Mika’s world and that world hasn’t slowed down much at all.
I suppose it’s perfectly commonsense for it to all feel so much easier the second time round.
But since I haven’t had more than 2 hours sleep in a row for the past almost 3 weeks (the rather seriously less-glorious part about it all), I’m going to use bullet points to get out things I wanna remember, because i am considerably less coherent with such little sleep.
- The support we’ve received has been so ridiculously amazing. Ridiculous because sometimes when I think about it I just can’t even believe it. And it’s weird that it can be hard to accept help and support, no? There is a part of my brain that I have to tell to shut up when it starts thinking ‘i can totally do it all’ or wondering how I can ever repay our friends here for their kindness. I’m not even kidding when I say that we have had enough meals and baking and alcohol being delivered to us over the past 2 weeks that we have barely had to think about cooking our own dinners.
- Teo has gained a full pound! Nursing is a breeze for him and he is on the boob pretty much every hour or two around the clock. I had quite forgotten about the pain of milk coming in though, and on day 3-4 I was in tears. Thankfully it has all eased down a bit now and despite feeling like I’m sorta always just covered in milk, things are going very well.
- He is a very easy baby…EXCEPT for the fact that he cannot sleep on his back. Which is a pretty big fact. And has meant that Ivan and I have been taking ‘sleeping shifts’ since he was born because we cannot put him to sleep in his bassinet. He doesn’t cry and whine on his back, he just throws up on his back which is very sad to watch. BUT we had a doctor’s checkup today and it seems as though there is some sort of custom upright sleeping contraption for babies with this very problem and so we will be getting him fitted for one ASAP. And hopefully our lives will be a tiny bit less sleep deprived. (And our arms a little bit more free).
- So he spits up A LOT. Which is something Mika never really did. So that’s different.
- He is so tiny that he doesn’t really fit any 0-3 month clothing! We had to go out and buy a bunch of preemie onesies and some ‘under 7lbs’ stuff for him to wear.
- He is so so so cute. Ivan and I could stare at him for hours. He has the tiniest lips and they make the cutest little expressions. He smiles a LOT which, considering babies don’t really smile at this age, means he is just VERY gassy. (but the smiles are very cute).
- Everyone asks after Mika. And so far our only response is that she is (naturally) the most wonderful big sister you could imagine. Before he was born, she would often do this baby talk stuff and it drove me mental. ‘Goo goo ga ga i’m a baby’ and all that. But now, nothing. Now she is helpful and kind and responsible (as far as a 3.5 year old can be) and everything is very natural and obvious to her. I think she was heading out to a playground with Ivan and I told her I wished I could go too, and she said sweetly ‘but Teo needs you mama, he needs milk and you are tired because he kept you up all night’ and it breaks my heart a little bit that she is so rational and wonderful about it all.
- The hospital bill?! Woah. Not something I guess I want to remember, but to all my NZ friends, yes, it really does cost that much here to have a baby. And the real crazy thing? That as soon as baby is out of me, he gets his own bills! And so we have bills arriving for him already from his stay in the hospital! It’s nuts. Thankfully our insurance WILL cover a lot of it, I don’t think we would end up paying more than 20% of the total – it’s all very confusing and there are many factors to it, but yes it is NUTS. Considering that in NZ we never saw a SINGLE bill for anything relating to Mika’s birth. Not the prenatal care or the birth or the stay at the birth centre or the incredible follow-up post her birth. I’m sorry America, but something doesn’t feel right about it all.
And here are all the pictures. Because there cannot be enough. (And I WILL get around to taking photos of him with a real camera.) Mateo Parker Paul Cruz:
It is raining outside and we have a fire going. Baby Teo is asleep on my lap where he has been for most of the last 4 days. I don’t know how it is with most people, but for me I found that after Mika’s birth, I played the whole thing over on repeat in my mind for days and days afterwards. Teo’s birth story is quite different from Mika’s, but with his too I’ve found myself playing it out over and over. In the quiet days in hospital after the birth, just Ivan and I and a sleeping baby, we talked it out – sharing our experience of the same event with each other. I love reading birth stories, especially positive ones, and the day before I was scheduled to be induced – I found myself frantically googling for positive induction birth stories. And now I feel like I need to put my story out there: to remember it for myself, but also for anyone who might find themselves in a similar position.
(As with most birth stories, this post probably contains TMI – so read ahead at your own risk).
I never wanted to end up in hospital. But at 24 weeks baby was at about 3-4 weeks behind in growth and my midwife passed me on to a perinatologist and before I knew that is just where I found myself: 3x a week for NSTs, ultrasounds and doctor visits. Sometimes the tests were good, other times they were questionable. Some weeks I felt confident, and then we would have another growth scan that showed baby’s long bones lagging about 5 weeks behind where growth should have been – and a huge difference in the growth of the head/belly/long bone ratio. Down’s Syndrome and Dwarfism were terms being thrown around a lot, as well as many other potential reasons as to why baby was having ‘restricted growth’. And as my pregnancy progressed it became somewhat decided that the best idea would be to induce baby no later, but also no earlier than 39 weeks. Which was October 29th.
The idea of being induced bothered me a lot. It felt very rude to try and kick this baby out of it’s cozy womb before it was ready. But the doctors presented a very good case for inducing (telling me i’m increasing my risk of still birth by going to ‘full term’ is a very effective way to get my attention) and so it was scheduled. Trust me when I say that I did not make this decision lightly. But it is one thing to feel like everything must be OK and to trust my ‘gut feeling’ and another thing to have doctor’s saying that they very strongly recommend following their advice and that they aren’t making these decisions lightly. And so in the week leading up to the 29th, I decided to trust in everything that was unfolding. I wanted to wonder ‘would it have turned out the same if we were in NZ?’ but instead I decided to trust the universe for bringing us to Seattle and hope that perhaps this all unfolded as it did for the reason of bringing us a healthy baby in the right care.
October 29th: Ivan starts paternity leave and we have the whole day to spend as a family of 3.
830am: Drop Mika at her Spanish school.
9am: Out for breakfast with Ivan to our favorite brunch spot. Ivan has egg’s benedict, I have coffee and a croissant.
1030am: Notice we have a flat tire as we leave the cafe.
Noon: Pick up Mika from school.
2pm: Finish getting tires replaced.
3pm-6pm: We take Mika and her friend to their swim class. I swim laps and it feels so good. A lady asks me when I’m due and I tell her I’ll be having the baby this evening. She looks startled and says I look too small to have a baby this evening. I smile and nod.
7pm: We have vegan pizza and salad at our friend’s house. Her well-meaning out-of-town relative starts telling me that I shouldn’t get induced. A bit late for opinions like that…
7:30pm: Ivan and I leave Mika at our friend’s house and head for home. It’s hard to say goodbye to Mika. She has already told me that she is very sad she can’t be there when baby is born. She wanted to hold my hand. We had initially planned a home birth and she was going to be present – so this is very different than we had initially talked about with her.
Ivan and I slowly pack a bag, do some last minute straightening of things around the house and head into the car. It’s hard to describe the thoughts and feelings we are having, but i’m sure one can imagine.
830pm: We arrive at the hospital and check in. It’s quiet and dark – the exact reason I wanted to make an evening appointment. I feel like babies are supposed to arrive in the early hours of the morning or the late hours of the night.
We’re taken straight to my delivery room. It’s room number 2 and my nurse Amy is there to greet us. She is everything I could have hoped for. Much older than me, so I feel like she has good experience. Cuts straight to the point, no bullshit, but also very kind. I was so nervous about which nurse we would get, as we had planned to have no-one else there except Ivan and I and the nurse. The doc would only be showing up intermittently to check my cervix and then to deliver the baby. We were really lucky to get Amy.
She shows us around the room, asks me a bunch of questions (what was my last labour like, how do i handle pain, what was our birth plan etc etc) and then starts monitoring baby and sets up my IV.
The resident doctor arrives and she is also lovely. Thank goodness. She checks my cervix and everyone is pleasantly surprised to discover that I am already 3cm dilated and 50% effaced. This means that most of the other methods of induction we had talked about are rather pointless and in their opinion we should just start the pitocin. This makes me cringe and I ask a billion questions about how intense my contractions will be, what the likelihood of me begging for an epidural is, how long labour might last etc etc. Basically i just want to know if they have seen women have a straight forward, no emergency c-section, no-epidural, less than 10 hour labour after being put on pitocin. The doc and nurse assure me that they have and I take their word for it.
So they start me on the lowest dose of pitocin at 10pm and i ask ivan to put A Perfect Storm on the laptop. We cuddle up (sorta), with no real idea of what the next 24 hours is gonna look like. Although I do ask the doc if she expects me to be able to sleep before baby is born and she says ‘no way, not unless you get an epidural’. So that is…reassuring?
Almost right away I start feeling contractions. They aren’t super strong, sort of like mild period cramps, but they are consistent. Maybe every 4-5 minutes. We pause the movie and skype with my mum and dad in NZ until my contractions start getting stronger.
I get up to go toilet and my water breaks! It feels so weird, but I am so excited because I have never had the feeling of waters breaking and it is pretty weird. So for the rest of labour it kinda feels like I’m peeing myself, which feels strangely nice.
Pretty soon I’m feeling contractions every 2-3 minutes and they get strong enough that I need to close my eyes during each one and I can’t really focus on a movie, or the crossword book I’d brought. I ask Ivan to plug in our mini speaker and play the Goldmund album I’d found a few days earlier. It’s beautiful but also pretty weird. And we play it on repeat for the next 6 hours.
By 2am the contractions are very very intense and close together. It’s now been about 4 hours of contractions and I’m exhausted. My nurse has been by my side for the last hour or so watching me. (I handle contractions by having NO-ONE touch me, closing my eyes and being completely silent). I start wondering how long I’m going to be able to handle this for. I’m so tired and there is no recovery time between contractions. Amy notices that things are getting hard for me and asks if I want to be checked. I ask what good it will do to check me and she says that it will just give me an idea of where I’m at. I think to myself that if I’m less than 6cm then maybe I will need an epidural.
The doc comes in to check me and I’m 7cm and 100% effaced. Great news I suppose but I ask how much longer it’s going to be. Amy says that nothing will happen until I feel the need to push and then I’ll need to be checked again to make sure that I’m at 10cm. I spend the next hour barely hanging on. I think I moan a bit through some contractions and it makes me lose focus and I start to get scared. Amy is so great, she helps me breathe and relax through some contractions with strong reassuring words and tells me that I will be able to do this. With every contraction I am praying that I feel a need to push. And finally by about 4am I feel it. It starts off as a mild need to push, so I tell Amy and she calls the doctor. It very quickly becomes a STRONG need to push and the doc isn’t there yet and Amy is telling me to NOT PUSH. Which is pretty much the hardest thing ever. So she makes me breathe breathe breathe through each contraction and the doc finally arrives and checks me and confirms I am 10cm but now she must call in a million doctors who were on standby for this birth and so I cannot push until they arrive. The room fills up, the lights turn on, I change position and finally I can push. I push with everything I have left.
After about 3 or 4 pushes, I can feel the head starting to come out and they tell me to push as hard as I can with the next contraction. And so I do, and I feel the head coming out and I start to cry out with pain and then as the contraction ends, instead of the head slipping back in a bit, or coming right out, it just STAYS THERE. The widest part of baby’s head stuck in my vagina and I’m not allowed to push and the pain is so intense that I scream a sort of sound that I have never heard myself make. And I say ‘i have to keep pushing or i will die!’ and the nurse says i can push if i can and so i push with EVERYTHING and i tell myself that if i don’t feel this whole baby come out with this push then i will probably not be able to go on. And so finally, after only 10 minutes of pushing and at the end of my biggest push ever, I feel this tiny-but-not-so-tiny-feeling baby come slithering out and there is silence for a moment and my heart stops and then i hear crying and ivan shouts ‘we have a boy!!’ with so much happiness that i close my eyes and say the shortest but most grateful prayer and then there is a tiny PERFECT looking baby being passed to me through my legs.
Ivan cuts the cord and i hold him for a moment and then they take him from me for a few minutes so all the doctors can check him over.
It’s not long before he is passed back to me because of COURSE he is perfect. He weighs 5 pounds, 10 ounces and he is 49cm long and he is just so perfect looking and ivan and i know this but we keep asking ‘so is he OK?’ and they nod vaguely and say ‘yep, he seems great’ but we have been put through so much over the last two months that this seems so surreal but the doctors leave the room so we turn our attention to this tiny little gift from god who is lying on my chest and drinking like his life depends on it.
And we call him Mateo which means ‘gift from god’ and we will call him Teo,mostly.
And it takes a while for me to fully experience the gratitude i feel to the universe. The moment is overwhelming and wonderful and it isn’t until a bit later when i am in the recovery room and there is a moment when i am alone with Teo and i start to cry and cry and cry because, LIFE. Words can’t even describe.
We stayed in the hospital for another night and mika came to see her baby brother and OH MY HEART. More docs came to check out baby and really they say he looks great. It is very confusing because the docs who were worried about him in my womb are not the same docs who are now checking him out (obstetricians vs pediatricians i suppose) and so these docs can’t possibly know what the last 2 months have been like for us. And so they say that as far as they can tell with any given child, baby Teo looks great. And of course we could know more if we want to do genetic testing or something, but now why would we? We can also just take each day as it comes.
And that is just what we are doing.
Teo, welcome to this world. We already love you more than you could know.
I cried for an entire week when I found out I was pregnant with M. But the initial shock soon gave way to near-unbearable sickness which after 6 months gave way to impossible excitement, delight and awe at the human body and nature and somehow my general memory of being pregnant for the first time is that it was INCREDIBLE.
And then she was overdue and the days were killing me because i just wanted to meet her. And then she was born and we started breastfeeding and all of a sudden my life as I had known it was over. It felt like it was without warning and it felt like no-one had told me this would happen and I remember having brief moments of thinking I would NEVER be my own person ever again. The days were LONG.
And then she was 1 and a half and I started to feel like myself again and our lives felt complete. I couldn’t imagine a life without her. And she stopped needing me as much and it felt pretty OK until it was time to stop breastfeeding and I cried and I cried and I worried that we would lose our closeness and that our special time together was completely over. But of course our time together just changed and now I watch her with pride as she makes her own smoothies and constantly reminds me ‘mama I can do it’. And when she comes into our room at night holding her tiny pink rabbit nightlight and crawls between us, I pull her as close to me as I can and the smell of her breath and the sound of her breathing and her sleepy smiles fill me with a similar delight that I experienced with breastfeeding and I realise that these things don’t necessarily go away, they just change, constantly, and that part of being a parent is that we quickly learn how fleeting these moments really are. The days are sometimes still long, but after 3 and a half we are very aware just how short the years are.
I never really look back and wish we were still in an old phase. I loved breastfeeding and then I hated it and then I cried when it had to end and now it has given way to so much more. I loved baby mika but now i love 3 and a half year old mika so much more and every day that she grows I wouldn’t trade it for the world. But that doesn’t make it easy – especially when the changes feel so large and significant or when they are marked by something like the end of breastfeeding or the start of preschool or, the real reason for this post, the arrival of a new family member.
Every day I am asked by someone ‘how are you feeling?.’ And for these past few weeks if you have asked me this question, you could have caught me in any one of the millions of feelings that I have been feeling because i have been feeling ALL.THE.THINGS. But as my best friend who always says the right thing says, as long as i am feeling all the things, then that’s just how it should be. I could write paragraphs about the sadness, paragraphs about the excitement, paragraphs about the sense of loss or the anticipation for what is to come.
And as each feeling arises, I sit with it and I try (and fail) and try (and fail) and try to not judge myself, or resist the feeling or change the feeling. And really only by sitting with it am I really experiencing it all. In a few days everything will change and I will never have this moment back again. Uncertainty, fear, sadness, excitement – all the unknowns of today will become known. I am usually addicted to these moments. I relish them. It’s why I would never want to know the gender of my baby before they are born. It’s these moments before starting something new, these moments where anything seems possible that feel so magical to me.
So despite all the concerns and potential outcomes right now; despite how much I cry because this is the end of our family of three and how excited I am because this is the start of our family of four; I will keep trying to experience every feeling as it arises and I will savour these last few days as the days of magical unknown.