Two Weeks In.

In The Beginning

I’ve always heard of these “mommy blogger” types and never thought I’d be a mommy. Sure, I’d been a blogger since um, 2001 (and publicly since 2006), but I never thought that mommyhood was something that would begin to define me. Throughout my pregnancy, I’d kept pregnancy a secret for the most part. I didn’t tell most of my family until the 4th month, which is expected. But I kept it a secret from friends and colleagues until well into the 6th month and only revealed it then because I had attended the South by Southwest (SXSW) conference and everyone could see my belly. I had to justify to them at that point that it wasn’t just a poor diet choice.

After that, word had spread. Photos were uploaded, and my bulging stomach was pretty obvious. I wasn’t too ashamed. I was carrying a life inside of me, after all! But at the same time, internally, I was scared. I still am, really. Babies? Motherhood? Me?

It didn’t help that my family is religious enough that we don’t do baby showers. I hadn’t known that until I was perhaps 3-4 months pregnant and had already had a friend volunteer a “social media baby shower” for me. That didn’t materialize since my mother and mother-in-law both discouraged against it. In fact, the whole concept of carrying a baby didn’t feel real for a very long time. The kicking I felt at about 22 weeks perhaps started making it feel like something. It felt nice, though I was hurting with some of those jabs. (“Ow!”, I’d randomly shout during other conversations.)

Only on May 10th, we started setting up our two baby registries. This was my mother’s first grandchild so she took the initiative to do the initial research on what I’d need for the kid. After all, her daughter was busy grappling with impending motherhood and wrapping up a book. (The day after, I posed an interesting question to my Twitter audience to find out what they thought would happen first. At that point, I had no idea!)

Climactic

Fast forward to May 19th. Ever since I got pregnant, I had upper leg pain (pelvic pain) that I thought was related to symphysis pubis dysfunction. I never was formally diagnosed; my OB discounted the entire thing as “pregnancy pains.” But after doing some internet research, I wanted to get a real answer.

That Tuesday, I called the doctor’s office to schedule an exam. My OB was out of the office without known coverage so I was sent to the labor and delivery unit of the New York Presbyterian hospital. Little did I know what I was in for next.

It was 3pm when I got in. Eventually, after 4, they opted to see me. I was hooked up to a contraction and fetal monitor in the triage unit of the hospital. I’d had this happen to me before for an ER visit at 28 weeks and figured this was just standard procedure. But 2 hours later, when a doctor finally saw me, they told me I couldn’t go anywhere. I was having contractions.

“Braxton Hicks, then, I guess. I’m only at 33 weeks, 6 days. And I don’t feel anything,” I told them.

“Nope. These are too frequent to be Braxton Hicks contractions. We’ll have to check if you’re dilated.”

Seconds later, I was told I was already 3cm dilated.

(Good thing they checked and the baby’s head was in the right place.)

They put me on an IV at that point, telling me that they were going to medicate me to try to control the contractions. I certainly wasn’t ready. It was May 19th! I was due June 30th.

A little over an hour later, they checked to see if the contractions stopped. Nope, they got worse, I was informed. I was 4-5cm dilated at that point.

“You’re in labor.”

Terrified because my baby was probably too immature and a premature birth scared me to death, I remember calling my dad with tears down my face. “I’m going to have a preemie.”

They gave me a shot of steroids in my butt to accelerate development of the baby. The injection was painless until the steroids actually took effect. Then it hurt pretty badly, but only for about 15 minutes.

My husband, thinking this was nothing, hadn’t been with me while I endured the five hours at that point in the triage unit. Eventually, he left work and joined me. By then he knew what was happening.

His child was coming 6 weeks early.

The nurses finally removed me from the triage unit. I was rolled into a labor room. I hadn’t wanted to give birth so early and was pushing anyone who would listen to let me go home. I was feeling nothing and my baby was too young to come out. (I might’ve wished many times that the baby should come out given the discomfort I had felt during the third trimester, but I really didn’t want to have the kid until I was full-term. That wasn’t then. That isn’t even now.)

The hospital staff wouldn’t have it.

Feeling like I was being held against my will, I just sucked it up. I worked via my Treo and I tweeted that I’d be in the hospital for the next few days. (I didn’t give specifics since I didn’t want to jinx it. It was also part of the denial I had been in. Further, we suspected that I’d be monitored repeatedly in the hospital for a few weeks. The workaholic in me did NOT like that idea!)

In the middle of the night, I was told that I was now 6cm dilated. By noon the following day, when they decided to break my water, I was still 6cm dilated.

(Could I go home now? The progress stopped!)

(No.)

Eventually, they decided to use pitocin to increase the contractions. Clearly, at that point, despite the fact that so many people checked that I was dilated and perhaps their measurements were wrong, they were going to induce. I still didn’t want to hear anything of it, but I was outnumbered.

And then, after feeling nothing, the pain started. I had been at the hospital and in labor for 27 hours. It was time for an epidural.

And I was finally dilated enough that things were happening. 8cm.

Three hours after that, my son was born.

(The labor? 30 hours at the minimum. I Was lucky the “pain” started 3 hours before he popped out!)

Being a Mommy

He was tiny. Beautiful. I cried with him on my chest. At 5 lb 13 oz (or 2.660 kg), he was really small for a healthy baby. But his Apgar scores were 9 at 1 minute and 9 at 5 minutes. He was a miracle!

And so, without preparing myself adequately for this mentally, I was a mommy.

OMG.

Within a hour, everyone knew. (I called his grandparents and great-grandparents first, though!)

And here I was, still grappling with impending — wait, no, this was real motherhood.

My son, who was not named until his bris (the Jewish circumcision ceremony), was a real “little man,” a name I still use for him on a regular basis. Within a week, his birth weight dropped to 5 lb 5 oz. He was so little that I ran into some obstacles. His mouth is small, and from what I had learned of baby development, he was not going to have a strong sucking reflex until 36 weeks. Consequently, the pediatrician, lactation consultant, and hospital staff recommended that I supplement. Meanwhile, while I was a formula-fed baby, I was going to do what I could to give this baby antibody-laden milk. I spent free time in the hospital pumping. (And today, I’m using a rented Medela Symphony to do so.)

I was still having pelvic pain even after I gave birth. In fact, the hospital staff provided me with a walker. I don’t need it as much since I’m at home most of the time lately recovering, but I do feel pain every so often that prompts me to want to rely on the thing.

I also experienced PUPPP, which normally develops in the third trimester of pregnancy. The only problem? While my abdominal area was itchy, the hives spread to my legs, arms, and thighs after I gave birth. (In fact, two weeks in, I am not feeling much better.) It certainly is a challenge finding the right kind of medicinal relief that won’t spread to your newborn child in breastmilk!

All this aside, my baby is a real joy. Granted, he’s still tiny and sleeps so much to catch up on his six weeks of missed development. Forcing him to wake up for feedings is a challenge. Waking him up when he falls asleep during feedings is also rather challenging. But he’s the cutest little munchkin ever.

And while his Biliruben levels were a little high at first, causing us to have to go to the Emergency Room twice (it was Memorial Day weekend, after all, and the doctor’s office was closed) during the swine flu scare to give him blood tests, he ended up having his bris on time. At such a small size and at such an early gestational age, we were really lucky.

His name is David Jacob Weinberg.

Here he is with his mommy:

As of his 13th day, he reached a milestone of 6 lb 0 oz. He’s still super tiny (3rd percentile for his weight and height of 19 inches), but he’s the cutest little dude ever.

And we are the happiest parents.