Ruled by the Tiny Fist



Emmett Michael is here.  And since his arrival on 2/10/11, he has been ruling our household with his tiny, tiny fists. 

This little guy is a dictator.  He determines when we eat, sleep and shower.  When we can leave the house, have guests over (because lets be honest, I'm sure my brother in law does not want to see me whip out a boob to feed the dictator), when mommy can have that COVETED margarita she had been dreaming of for 8+ months.  He is absolutely in charge. 

He also kind of has it made.  He eats on demand, we wipe his ass on cue and I have suddenly morphed into that woman that speaks in wittle bitty baby voices in order to calm the screaming little person down when he unleashes HIS rage.  Oh yes, the pregnancy rage has transferred from me to my little man.  I kind of feel sorry for the victims of my rage (from the man with that "MOM" tattoo that stole my air hose at the gas station, to cashier at the Hallmark store) because now the tables are turned. 

I am farily certain I am running on adreneline, as is my husband.  Thankfully, the dictator has taken to sleeping in 4 hour stretches at the moment, so by each taking a night shift feeding (me at 12, my husband at 4), we are actually getting some long stretches of sleep in.  For now.

There were MANY things people didn't warn me about when it came to c-section recovery and breastfeeding.  I plan on sharing those with you in my next blog--all of the gory details including the first bowel movement post baby (OMG, I thought I was dying) to breast engorgement and nipples that felt like they have been sandpapered for 3 hours.  Since the next blog will be kind of gross, I will reward you now with a cute baby picture for making it this far:

Emmett Michael

2/10/11

7 lbs. 3 oz. 20 inches

Surely plotting my demise while perfecting his Zoolander poses

Sure To Get A Side-Eye

I had my 39 week check-up yesterday and after the obligatory weight, blood pressure and violation of my lady bits, my doctor confirmed what I had already suspected—that my child was never, ever coming out of my body.  Really, she told me that for the 3^rd week in a row; my body had made no progress in terms of dilation or effacement.  The baby was high and I was closed up like Fort Knox—wonderful image I just left you with, wasn’t it? 

So at this point, I knew we were going to have “the talk” and I was prepared.  She mentioned again that I was not progressing at all and though I could go into labor on my own, it was time to discuss the options of induction and C-section.  She and I talked for a bit about our options and what Ryan and I wanted out of the delivery experience. 

Ryan and I had discussed this subject many, many times and had always come back to the same conclusion—if we had a choice between an induction and a C-section, we would choose the C-section.  And that’s what we decided.  Emmett will be born around 1 p.m. on his due date of 2/10/11 via C-section.  This statement has gotten me no less than 15 side-eyes and looks of surprise from various people.  We’ve been bombarded with “Is the baby okay?  Why a C-section?” questions from just about everyone.   I think a lot of people (especially those from an older generation) automatically think that induction is the way you have to go, because that’s how things were done 15 years ago.  C-sections were emergency options only and they were a last resort.    

Now, I understand that a C-section will be no picnic on my body.  And if Emmett decides he wants to grace us with his presence earlier than our planned date, I will be ecstatic and will welcome the labor.  But induction is not a choice for us, simply because we believe that it is used to “trick” your body into thinking it’s time to deliver and places stress on a baby that’s probably not ready to enter the world at that time, via the birth canal.  Also, many inductions, particularly on mothers who are less than 4cm dilated (on their own) end up in C-sections anyway.    

Again, these are the first of MANY choices we get to make as parents, and we feel like these are the right ones for us.  May not be your cup of tea, but it’s not your vagina or body we’re talking about here, is it? J


Edited:  So after Ryan read this post, he mentioned that a male co-worker today tried to get him to "talk me out of a C-section" and how he (co-worker) believes it's way worse than an induction.  Now I'm pissed.  Excuse me, sir, but when you grow a vagina and carry a human being in your uterus for 9 months, then we can talk about how you really feel about the subject.  That is just one of those things you don't say to a pregnant woman.  Right behind "Are you having twins?" and "You look like you're ready to pop".