An Update from Day 12

How much life can change with one last big "Push!"

On Saturday, September 17 -- one day before my scheduled induction -- Aaron and I woke up on a beautiful Boston fall morning and decided to take a four mile walk around a lake nearby. Almost prophetically, we kept talking about how we'd always remember this, the eve of our baby's arrival. We ended the walk with a coffee and a scone at a favorite cafe around the corner. Just as I enjoyed that first delicious bite, whooooosh, my water broke. Everywhere. Luckily for us, we were sitting at a sidewalk table outside. Unluckily for the restaurant, we made a mad dash for home without looking back -- me hysterically laughing, Aaron in a New Dad Panic.

Labor started quickly thereafter, but we had the chance to collect ourselves before heading to the hospital around 12:30. Things got progressively more uncomfortable over the next five hours -- putting me squarely on track to live out the Most Painful Day of My Life -- until my path was diverted by the merciful anesthesiologist who shoved a catheter in my spine and delivered the holy epidural. God bless the physician who came up with that one.

Just after midnight, we were given word that it was time to push and I was overcome by an indescribable energy and all-consuming excitement. Our sweet little boy came into the world 40 minutes later, weighing in at healthy 8 pounds 7 ounces (dodged a bullet with that one) and boldly demonstrating that his lungs were fully developed and ready for makin' some noise.

The last week and a half has been one extraordinary adventure. We've learned many quick lessons about parenthood -- most of them squarely between the hours of midnight and 4:00AM -- and still marvel at how someone so little can occupy such an immense part of our hearts. We are profoundly grateful for the gifts we've been given over these last twelve days, and are savoring each new day that we get to spend watching Owen grow.

PS: It now takes 6x longer to do anything -- showering, eating, getting in a full night's worth of sleep. This post was initially titled "Day 7," which soon became eight...nine...ten...eleven...and now twelve. Think I'll be sticking mostly to picture posts over the next few weeks. And let's be honest, that's probably why you're all here anyway.

Can't get enough of the smiles


Intently "reading" his black and white picture book


A very pensive morning


Can already tell we have a Daddy's boy on our hands


His "Walk like an Egyptian" sleep pose


Tiny feet


Happy he's on the other side of my abdomen


Newborn photo shoot -- professional pictures to come!


Another new parenting term: The Football Hold


A more complete picture of life with a newborn


A little apprehensive about his first car adventure


Grandma Fisher, Burper Extraordinaire

Welcome to the world, Baby Owen

Baby is waking for his dinner so I'll write more later, but just wanted to put up some photos of our new love, Owen.

A few hours after my water broke at breakfast


Baby Owen, 2 minutes old


Active from the start


Owen meets Uncle Steven and Grammy and Grandpa Fisher










Grandmas and Owen






Ten hours old, tired mommy




Day 2




We're going home!








Smiling after breakfast

Random Musing #14: Last Pregnant Post

Life as we know it is rapidly approaching its very welcome end. Our families have arrived in Boston, our (utilitarian, not excessively overloaded) bags are packed, and the car battery was revived just this evening (eek...discovered that potential crisis situation this morning). We're still on for a Sunday morning induction unless Mini-Person decides to come on his own sometime in the next 36 hours. So for now, I'm signing off -- my last childless post! Be back in a few days with some pictures of our long-awaited, already extraordinarily well-loved, hopefully healthy, happy, giant baby.

Until then, the below pictures can keep you guessing at what Mini-Person might come out looking like...

Aaron, Day 1


Me, Day 1


Mini-Person, Day -3

(For those who are not ultrasound literate...so, pretty much everyone...that's his hand curled in front of his chin)

Random Musing #13: BIG news

Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

*sigh*

We had back-to-back ultrasound and doctor appointments this morning at two different locations. Aaron and I arrive at the former, super excited to see the little guy and finally figure out which appendage it is that I so love to manhandle. The very nice ultrasound tech gives us a lively, thorough tour of my uterus (though truthfully she could've been making the whole narrative up; we had absolutely no idea what we were looking at). We take our cues from her and appropriately coo at his heart's "adorable" four chambers and the "sweet" little femur burrowing into my rib cage. Really, we're just thrilled to hear that he appears perfectly healthy and all seems to be well.

And this is where it gets interesting.

The tech starts taking a bunch of fetal measurements, which she tells us she'll input into a computer program to get a weight estimate. After measuring and re-measuring and measuring again, Tech #1 leaves the room. On the sly, she sends Tech #2 in. Without explanation, Tech #2 starts repeating all of the measurements that had just been done. Like thirty times. Then she leaves, mumbling something about "a healthy-sized baby" in there.

So it hits us: Tech #2 was sent in to double-check the numbers because the first round must have generated some outrageous weight estimates.

We are laughing to ourselves as Tech #1 sheepishly returns. "Is he a little on the big side?" we ask. "Well...yeah. I'm measuring over 9 pounds," she says. [Pregnant pause] "Actually, we're getting 9 pounds 12 ounces."

Oh. Dear. God.

Those are not two numbers I expected to hear together. There is officially a giant growing in my womb, and I probably could've slept better not knowing that. And remember how I predicted "depressing sympathy" as the predominant stranger reaction when you're post-due date? Mix that with "I was due yesterday AND I'll be pushing out a toddler" and you really get some compassionate looks.

However, our family pointed out some definite bright sides (and feel free to contribute others):

• That means 3 fewer pounds that I'll have to work to lose later on. -Aaron
  


• Coming in at "above the 95th percentile," the baby is already kicking butt at his one task in life so far: growing. -my brother, Robert



• He'll probably come out reading. -my father-in-law



• He's big and healthy and cuddly and totally ready to be in my arms! -me

Because he's on the larger side and so clearly full-term, the plan is to be induced at 7:30AM on Sunday (though the doctor seemed to think he may come on his own before then). So we're unbelievably thrilled that in about three days, we'll finally get to meet our son!!

Random Musing #12: Choosing Your Tenses

Due dates are stupid.

Not to sound like a tantrum-prone toddler, but I really have nothing more profound or mature to say on that subject. "Here, Crazy Preggo, we don't even have a full scientific understanding of what physiological processes initiate labor, but we'll give you a specific 24-hour period to pin your hopes and dreams on and broadcast out to the world. Hope it works out for you. Love, Your Doc." Bah.

Today is my due date, but I really haven't been that hung up on it. Honest. That may have something to do with the fact that I was 3+ weeks late (so sorry, Mom and Dad -- I have a newfound guilt complex being on this side of things), so I always figured that bitchy karma would thwart an on-time delivery. But even if you don't care about the exact date, some funny things happen when you transition from talking about your due date in the future tense...to the present tense...to the (sigh) past tense. The particular tense either makes strangers 1) endearingly excited, 2) visibly anxious, or 3) [presumably] depressingly sympathetic. (I'll verify that latter response for you tomorrow.)

When the future tense was in effect -- especially the very near future -- complete strangers would get so excited that you almost wouldn't have been surprised if they'd shown up in your hospital room. On my mall walk yesterday, the store clerks were so helpful and talkative and sweet. The lady at the makeup counter at Neiman even loaded me up with a bunch of free samples as she told me about her son's birth 24 years ago -- a vast improvement over the typical robotic, snooty condescension you generally get there. The future tense seems to prompt everyone to relive their own blissful memories of baby's arrival. It's the best.

But then today when I had to use the present tense, I seemed to turn into some sort of leper or ticking time bomb or napalm-filled-water-balloon-being-dangled-precariously-over-a-bed-of-nails. When the man on the T gave me his seat and then asked when I'm due -- "Today!" -- I thought the whole row of passengers was going to clear out; nobody wanted to be too close to the dangerously pregnant chick. But guys, I swear I'm not going to spontaneously explode baby all over you. It's just a due date, hardly more reliable than your daily astrological forecast.

And it's not just strangers. Even my non-human surroundings don't know how to comprehend a due date come and gone. Our due date countdown clock is now frantically flashing all zeroes, as if the world has just ended and it has no idea how to proceed. The pregnancy tracking emails I get (you know..."This week your baby's the size of a rutabaga!"...that kinda thing) just switched from updates about fetal development to congratulating me on the newborn I don't yet have. My What to Expect iPhone app reads, "Countdown: You are past your due date. What the $*&# are we going to do now??" (Okay, fine, I made up that last part.)

I'm not really expecting the past tense to be much better. Got that sense this morning when a gruff Boston traffic cop stopped screaming at cars to sympathetically remark, "Oh man, you look so ready to be done!" (The funny waddle gave it away, I guess.) I wasn't even feeling sorry for myself until he pointed that out.

So I think I've learned my lesson. Instead of scaring people away with the present tense, or eliciting Stranger Pity with the past, I'm going to stick with the more fun future tense: from here on out, my due date is always going to be "Tomorrow!"

Random Musing #11: An Apology Letter to My Feet

Dear Feet,

I woke up a little mad at you today: you've really let yourselves go. A few extra millimeters is one thing, but you've both become distressingly fat. I couldn't even put you in a comfy pair of slip-ons because you're so big around the middle, which totally threw a wrench in my outfit plans. (And when you have exactly 3.5 shirts that still fit you, it's a big deal to have one whole outfit disqualified.) And that, Feet, is why I started the day hating on you both.

So I did what any responsible mother-to-be would do: punished you with a mall walk. For two hours. In thin soled flip-flops. Ha.

But as we walked around the mall together, my mood softened. I realized that you're really good feet and I shouldn't be so hard on you. In fact, you've gained relatively less weight than my thighs and my derriere and definitely my midsection, so really I shouldn't take out my frustrations on you. And besides, since you're now both invisible to me, I'm sure that you've been pining for some attention, which admittedly I haven't been too good about.

So we ended the day with a pedicure, the best kind of attention for neglected feet. I hope you will both accept that as my apology. (And please don't confuse the color as some sort of passive aggressive act of revenge -- it was a mistake.) Together, we'll battle your figure issues and (relative) normalcy will eventually be restored.

Love,
That Crazy Lady Upstairs

Random Musing #10: Phone Privileges

Despite our best efforts, the weekend did not produce Baby Barasz -- still just Fetus Barasz. Aaron, Fetus and I went on more long walks, ate spicy Indian, tried acupressure, and had some serious pep talks about how spacious life can be outside an abdomen, but the almostborn seems quite content where he is. (Aaron and I also improvised some pretty catchy duets about how much fun he'll have with these two rockin' parents -- which probably just wiped out any and all progress we'd made through the other interventions. Should've thought that one through.) Oh well, here's to another week of waiting...

In the meantime, I've discovered a new pregnancy perk to exploit: the ability to get anyone to answer their phone anytime. Turns out being nine-months pregnant is the best way to avoid call screening. (Not that I'm accusing anyone of screening my phone calls, but my call-to-answer ratio has made some marked gains.) Granted, everyone excitedly answers the phone, "Are you having a baby??" and I have to gently let them know that no, I'm just bored and wanted to chitchat. It's really a dangerous privilege to have as all of my friends are working or back in school, and I spend my days alone, having one-sided conversations with my belly. But the upside is that one of these days, the answer will be "Yes, I am having a baby!" and that will make all the fake-outs worthwhile.