Well That Figures

I have a new blog dedicated solely to the figure journey. The Triathlete Bride will remain focused on life and triathlon (one in the same, right?).

Here's the link: Figure'n It Out

SWAGGER WAGON

I think the Toyota mini van commercials are pretty funny.. but, this makes me want to BUY one.

What Now?

Since the Squid is swinging peacefully away, I have two hands and am not covered in spit up, how about a little catching up? We're getting settled in comfortably with a routine, well some semblance of one. Although we do have one thing that's a new addition aside from the Squid, of course. A "for sale" sign. As in: Buy our home. Yeah, I know, good joke, eh? But, we're giving it a try. We've been browsing houses since this early spring. We should have tried to really sell then, but we didn't. Mostly my fault. So we're sitting in our fabulous home, but we have our eyes on two floor plans that will function a little better for our expanded family. If you want to buy a house, look in south Blue Springs, Mo.








Yesterday was a beautiful day. I packed up the Squid, put on the Garmin and went for a jog. Well, I didn't wear the right bra ("sport" Nursing bras are not even close to being sporty) so there was way more walking then I wanted to do. He still doesn't fit in the jogging stroller, so we're making the regular one work for now for our jogs. I didn't bother with the HRM strap, but believe me, the data was more for shits and grins than for recording.







I still have some "issues" so swimming is out for a bit, and cycling will still be uncomfortable for a while. Instead, I'm doing a little research. I'm looking forward to my next athletic challenge of Figure competitions. I'm trying to decide if Bikini might be the better class for me since it requires competitors to be a little softer, but if I am close, I'll sign up for Figure and add Bikini as a crossover class if it's allowed at the particular show I choose. Right now I'm looking through about three local shows between April and June of 2011.







It's a bit intimidating looking at the girls in competitions, but as I dig a little deeper, I am seeing posing practices of women months out from competition looking like, well... NORMAL woman. Definitely firm and fit, but it's nice to know that I'm not as far off base as I am feeling. Also, I've seen so much of the Pro women at comps like the Arnold Classic and Olympia that I thought these goals were really unrealistic. Then I realised I have to start somewhere and found these local ladies looking Uh-Maze-Ing (and attainable) practicing for a show, ya know, pre-spray tan and such:










PS



Number 6 (the Blonde second from right) is local Irongirl Gretchen Duncan!







This is pretty much where we're at right now. I'm enjoying the last month until I have to go back to work. I'm completely dreading it: I do NOT want Squid going to day care. We found a nice place and I'm sure it will be fine, but that's doesn't make me look forward to it.







I've got a LONG way to go to even get ready to get ready for Figure, but I'll get there (Stopping with the amount of ice cream I've enjoyed recently!)

Here we are, off on our journey. Momhood. Figure competitor!



Psst



I'm still doing triathlons, but it will just be sprints or olympics next year!

Hi. An Update.

Colic.

Colic effing sucks.

House for sale.

Someone come buy it.

Exhausted.

Need more sleep.

Couldn't be happier.

Eli: A Race, er, Birth Report

Cramps.  The, I have held my pregnant pee too long cramps. At least, that's what I thought it was.

Saturday, the 24th (Lil' Dude's official due date), I went to my pedicure lady. "Massage me." She agreed. It was time. There's this old wives' tale that having your feet massaged will bring on labor. I need a cut and polish anyway.

Husband and I had a relaxing afternoon. Went to bed at a decent time. At some point, that's when the cramps started.

By 5:30am, I had decided they weren't pee cramps.  Still laying in bed, snuggled together, we started timing them. Seven minutes. Six minutes. Five. They were consistent. And getting closer.  I said I wanted breakfast. Husband climbed in the shower.  I knew a trip to the Big Biscuit would never happen.  I made us a breakfast at home. One way or another, this would be our last Sunday breakfast as Eric and Courtney. We knew next Sunday we would be The Staton Family. Bittersweet.

I paged the on-call doctor.  I knew it was going to be Dr. Dickhead, the OB I switched from. My own doctor called me back instead. "Well, if there's a bit of bite to them, come on in. We'll check you out. Worse case, you'll come back tonight." My terrific Dr. Lady had switched on-calls with Dr. Dickhead. AWESOME.

We arrived at the hospital just past 9am. Husband walked in holding my hand. I told the nurse, as she hooked me to a monitor, that I wasn't sure if they were real contractions. There wasn't much in my abdomen area, but my back hurt like hell.  Her response: "Uh-oh."  That's not good.  She checked me for dilation and effacement. 2cm. Maybe 60%. Not numbers you want to hear when starting labor. I had made no progress from the previous week's OB appointment. After a quick scan over, she confirmed my back pain. Sunny side up. Straight OP. (differences here) Back Labor. Lil' Dude was kicking and squirming and giving no relief. Like a squid in my stomach.

I was told to walk. So I did. Husband and I walked the hallways. And walked. And walked. The contractions were getting stronger. And stronger.  I needed to sit. Then I was hit with the WHAMMY. Pain hard enough to make tears roll from my eyes, and vomit surface in my mouth. This is the real deal. After 90 minutes of waddling, and eventually needing to stop during contractions to focus only on breathing, I was checked again. Almost 4cm, 80%. Progress, but not much. Dr. Lady decision time: Well, you're coming back tonight anyway, so why make two trips? Let's get some active labor started. We were well past inducing, now, we were augmenting. Whatever. I just want my baby!

I was moved to a room where we would remain for our stay. The pain was getting tough. Dr. Lady broke my water. It was painless. I even asked "Would this hurt?" but she was already done. I was hooked to an IV tower, and told to walk some more.  I made it about 10 minutes. I was still on the no pain medication train. Barely. I agreed to Stadol. But I wanted to use the birthing ball and whirlpool tub first. I made it through one contraction on the birthing ball. Fuck the tub. Give me the narcotic.  It made me itchy. ITCH-EE. I was given Benadryl. The combination of Benadryl and Stadol made me sleepy. During this time, Eric called the fams. My dad and grandma came in. I mostly remember it. I was hurting like hell. My contractions were now double peaking, something that comes with back labor. I was "sleeping" between contractions, and waking right in the peak. So, I was out for about two minutes and yelling in pain for two minutes. Effing A. I remember saying something along the lines of This Fucking Sucks. Sorry grandma.

Get me the epidural.    NOW.

Eric held my hand.  Well, he held still while I tried not to break his bones. I recall during a Stadol coma contraction him telling me that there are pins in that hand, and he can feel them. Sorry honey. Let me take a second to say what an amazing, huge, terrific help Eric was. He never left my side. He held my hand through every contraction. Stayed right next to me. Perfect. They kept me turned half on my side hoping to get Squid to roll over. It didn't work, but they kept me in that position.

The epidural was painless. Not that I would have felt anything besides the explosion rocking my core. All was right with the world once I had my epidural. I still felt every contraction, but had full control over my legs and could feel the "urge to poop" coming on. I wasn't numbed entirely. Exactly what I hoped for. At 3pm, the time my epidural was administered I was at a 6, and almost 90% effaced. I took a nap.

At 4pm they came in to check me again. My nurse, an angel named Shannon, told me it was time. Dr. Lady agreed. You're at a 10, 100%. Let's have a baby. You're ready to push.

Whoa. Shock waves. Can't believe it. I'm about to have a baby!

The nursery nurses came in. There was a little meconium in the fluid, so they wanted to be sure they were ready in case the Squid needed to be intibated. That was a scary thought, but I figured the best I pushed, the less likely he would be to inhale any goo.

In my birthplan I had expressly said NO to a mirror. But once I was ready to go, I asked for one. I am SO glad I did. The first couple pushes are practice really.  The nurse asked if Eric could count for me. He did and did great. I did ask him to count slower. I wanted to push for as long as I could in every contraction. There wouldn't be any pushing for four hours BS here. Squid was ready. Husband did get up the guts to look in the mirror one time. It was maybe a bit much for him.

After 35 min. Shannon said STOP. STOP STOP! I panicked. I could see his head! The Dr. Lady was scurrying into her gear. I had to sit out two contractions. That was awful. I could see his hair (OMG! beautiful dark hair, just like my husband!). I reached down, I touched him. I bawled. I was moments away from mommy-hood. Gathering myself, I readied for the big transition. Here we go. I looked at Eric, he started counting.

One contraction.

Two contraction.

50 minutes of pushing. Here's your baby.

The emptying of your abdominal cavity is the craziest feeling ever. I immediately felt lighter, yet as if I would burst open. The nursery nurses looked him over. He inhaled no meconium. He was wailing. It was amazing.

Eric got to hold his hand while he got cleaned up. Then he was able to hold the Squid while the placenta delivered (no, we didn't keep it to eat it. Google that. No, don't) and my stitches were completed (2nd Degree. Not fun, but not horribly awful.).

I was then given my little bundle. Little is kind of a loose term.
Our Squid weighed in at 9lbs 1oz, and 21.5" long. The measuring tape only went to 21". The nurses had to extend the tape out to get him measured.

Ten perfect fingers (that look like Eric's).
Ten perfect toes.

I am in love.

Eviction Papers

Waiting for the dr at the 39 week appointment.

Yes, I really am this amazing looking.

Eric, waiting oh so paitiently.

37 weeks

Well, here we are.  Week 40.  The end-all be all of pregnancy. Unless you go long.  We're going long. Luckily, we're only going a few days. 

Today, Dr Lady informed us we're still measuring big, as in currently at 42weeks (I say we- that's me, Lil Squid Dude, and Husband Dearest), and that, despite all of our best efforts to dialte and efface, we got nothin'.  Dilation maybe at 2cm., and effacement is the Berlin wall. Effing A. Even that thing got taken down.

Then, she asked the magic words:

How do you feel about induction?

I didn't really have an answer.  I desperately want a thru-the-hoo-ha delivery, and prefer to go no drugs.  However, if the squid is growing at the rapidly expanding rate that he is, my little fatty will be too big to squeeze through these hips of mine.  Thus, induction is our best chance.  Inducing is scary though.  The rates of c-sections do increase.  But having a 9lb baby would also increase the odds of a tummy delivery.  We're gonna take our chances.  Dr Lady feels confident.  We'll go with that.

I have an eviction notice now issued for our Lil Squid. Papers to be served Sunday 8 PM. He can leave on his own anytime he wants.  However, Monday armed guards will be removing him from the premises.  My grandma swears Full Moon means baby deliveries. Look at what I found today:

Full Moon Phase:  2010 Jul 26 01:38 Mon

Either way, I'm gonna be a mom soon.

Weird.

Professional photos courtesy Monika Herbert at MONPhotography.com

All the Pregnant Ladies

Watch and enjoy.