A Year in Review

Even though it isn't quite 2012, I figured I'd take the time to look back upon the past 12 months. Plus, I haven't update the blog in a while (ok, a few months) - but I've been a busy momma! So at any rate, here is the Kamas family in review:

January 2011
At this point, we were a couple of months into the pregnancy, and I was puking my guts out on a fairly regular basis. Gatorade, ginger ale, and crackers was what I was mainly living on, except at night, when I could usually stomach "regular" food. We rang in the new year with the Cejka's - me and Jessica asleep on her bed, and Thomas and Dusty drinking vodka and damaging walls. January 3 was Thomas and my seventh anniversary - and for once, we were both feeling well. OK, Thomas was feeling well, I was feeling, well, see above. Quite a start for 2011...

February 2011
Ah, February. Each February 14th comes with a politically incorrect card, flowers, and chocolate-covered strawberries, and 2/14/11 was no exception. I love predictability, and greatly look forward to seeing just how offensive of a card Thomas can find. Of course, February wasn't without additional craziness - I opened up SEEC in a flight suit (Thanks to Lauren for shooting most of the pictures above the waist - flight suits aren't really flattering on a non-pregnant person so I was screwed) to kick-off our reduced gravity opportunity. It was also the week of the "ice storm that wasn't". There may have been ice on the bridges in downtown Houston, but definitely not where I was, but no complaints. I'll take a free "snow day". February also saw the departure of a beloved member of the Kamas household, Got Milk. That was rough - she was my fuzzball that always slept in bed with us. Add that on top of pregnancy hormones...it was a rough few days for me and Thomas.

March 2011
March was a pretty big month. We found out we were having a boy and my pregnancy-related heart condition (unprovoked tachycardia) reared its ugly head. I became grounded in more ways than one. No flying, no working out, no elevating the heart level, no stressing, no nothing. Well, crap. This was also the month of the green bedroom. If you haven't heard about the green paint debacle, either go back and read the March postings or just ask Thomas. He LOVES to tell that story. I'll admit it, it was totally my fault.

April 2011
By the time April rolled around, I was really hitting my pregnancy stride. The bump was out and in full effect. It was starting to get hot and miserable outside, which meant I was hotter and more miserable. Then, some jackass without insurance decided to rear-end my car when all Trinesha and I wanted to do was to go get Chipotle. It was her second accident in a week, and earned us both a trip to the ER (easy, easy, we both drove ourselves...in separate cars). She was in and out rather quickly. I hung out for HOURS. Debs kept me company until Thomas go there - I'm not sure who I scared most out of those two with the initial phone call. Trophy goes to Debs for best secondary reaction when she called me back after the initial call.

May 2011
May = Insanity. There really is no other way to explain it. Two baby showers (one of which was attended by the whole of Eastern Bell County), grad school graduation (4 hours, only one bathroom break!), and the realization that soon, very, very soon, a little person would be making his way into our house, and our lives. I guess you could refer to May as the month, to borrow a phrase, "shit got real". Of course, it didn't help that this was about the time all the pregnancy books (of which I read hundreds) start to talk about the labor process. After the weekends filled with craziness (good craziness, but still, all craziness is exhausting), the last thing I needed was to look at a graphic that detailed 10cm dilation every time I opened to the apropos chapter. I knew all along what the end result of the pregnancy would be, but sometimes it takes a bit before the reality truly dawns on you.

June 2011
In June, we finished Liam's nursery (woohoo, whales!!)and managed to take a "Childbirth for Dummies" class. The only good thing to come out of that class was the massage Thomas had to give me while we were "visualizing our way through contractions". Any of you that know me on any level can imagine how well that went over with me. I don't really buy into that visualization/New Age mumbo-jumbo stuff, and looking back, after having been there and done that, there is no FREAKING way you can "visualize" yourself out of that much pain. Not possible. Hospitals should just have the anesthesiologists meet the women at the elevator.

July 2011
By this time, I had been banished to working at home by the OB. I was happy to be able to keep working, but eventually, working from home gets lonely. Plus, MECO doesn't really understand why he can't sleep on your laptop. I mean, it's a warm place and it's not like the human actually is needing to use it. Yup, part of my day was dedicated to MECO eradication from the bed exercises. In addition to laptop napping, he would also steal pens and shred paper. Don't think the office would buy the cat ate my report excuse.

We had one false alarm towards the end of July, and several disappointing doctor visits to learn that progress wasn't happening. Miserably, Thomas and I stumbled on through the next week, him wrapping up random stuff at the house and me complaining and working on getting VIPs taken care of for our flight week at work all from my bed that had now become my office.I guess Liam was just waiting for his official due date (July 31) to kick things off because dark and early on the morning of the 31st, he got the party started. And then continued to party for 36.5 MORE HOURS...

August 2011
It's probably not too hard to guess what the highlight of this month was. August 1, 2011 at 4:36pm, weighing 8lbs, 1oz, little Liam made his appearance into the world. I won't get into to many details (there's a super long previous post about it), but let's just say that the whole process SUPER SUCKED. The end result was totally worth it, but I would imagine that having each of your fingernails ripped out would probably be comparable to the pain I was in after the drugs wore off and before they would give me an epidural.

September 2011
This month flew by. I got to spend almost the entire month at home with Spud (Liam's nickname) and finally managed to work up enough strength to get up and do something. Who knew c-sections had such a long recovery period? Oh yeah, the doctor who said I couldn't really do anything for 8 weeks. No worries, doc. I really couldn't.

October 2011
By this time, we were hitting our stride as a new family. Liam was getting more predictable and was settling into a routine. Awesome, because now I was back at work, and waking up every two to three hours wasn't really working. Liam also had his first Halloween and was dressed up as a giraffe. He really wasn't digging it, but managed to stay in costume long enough to have some super cute pictures taken.

November
First Thanksgiving! And, two MAJOR road trips. One to Louisiana to see a cousin get married - I think Liam saw more of the wedding than I did. I was sick and he wanted to party! And another home to Temple to see Thomas' family for the holiday. He did well, and I became the backseat diaper changing champion (when the car was stopped, people!). This month, Liam decided to go on a temper tantrum tear for about two weeks, only to discover the nonsense all had a purpose - two new teeth! It was rough for a bit, and then we discovered the magic of Infant Tylenol...thank goodness.

December
Liam turned four months old on December 1, and got the go-ahead from the pediatrician to start solids. So far, he's had cereal, peas, and sweet potatoes (but, similarly to the Cejka clan, I think the sweet potatoes may disappear from the rotation based on the um, shall we say, noisy and smelly side effects?). It started out not so well, but he's getting better. Now only about half ends up on him and the other half in him. The original ratio was more like 90% on, 10% in. He's a roly poly guy these days. Diaper changing has become an Olympic sport where Liam goes for style points with his moves and you get a medal if you manage to get the diaper to cover the important parts. He's such a mover - always rolling. He's trying to crawl, he just can't get everything moving at the same time. He gets around in his own special way, scrawling. Half-scoot, half-crawl. It works for him. He's just excited he can sleep how he wants to, face down, butt up. He's changed so much - he's more than doubled in size, and now wears 6-9 month clothes (mainly 9 months). He's a pretty big guy, but still loves to snuggle, and play, and smile. "Where's Liam?" is his all-time favorite game.

2011 was quite a crazy, but amazing, year for our family, and we are looking forward to what 2012 might bring! Here's wishing everyone a Happy New Year :)

Got Teeth?

It's hard to believe that Liam has almost been here for 4 months. At the same time it seems like so long ago and yet not so long ago that he made his grand arrival (oh, don't worry...I haven't forgotten ANYTHING about those 37 hours). He's already growing up so fast. He has TWO teeth that have broken through his gums - the bottom center teeth. Those things are sharp...very, very glad he is a formula baby. He nearly broke the skin on my finger today when he decided he wanted to snack on my fingers instead of his. I guess Frank can finally claim a victory. He is teething, but it started around week 15 instead of week 6 like her initial claim. FYI to the masses, you should go buy stock in Tylenol - we are starting to go through it like nobody's business.

Besides the teething (which is so much fun for everyone...groan), he is very much in "discovery mode" lately. He's been curious regarding his surroundings for awhile, but now it's really entertaining to watch. He loves to go outside and watch the cars drive by and look at the plants. He's fascinated by football and NASCAR on the TV (so many moving colors!). And, he's learning causal relationships. This is what I imagine Liam is thinking - "If I push the button, the toy flashes and makes noise which is wicked awesome. If I keep doing it when mommy tells me to, I get laughs and claps. If I do it long enough after she's lost interest, she'll come take me out of the toy and snuggle me because the noise has driven her crazy." He's a pretty smart guy.

I also think he's realized that his room is amazing. It's usually dark when we go up there - we only have a nightlight on when we take him up for chow and rocking before putting him to bed. But the past few days during the "teething episodes" (teething episodes = no napping, fit throwing hours where nothing makes us happy), I've taken him up to his room to rock him in the chair. He likes to look at the whales and the fish on the wall. I'm not sure he realizes this is the same place we go every night, but at least it seems like he appreciates all of me and Thomas' hard work.

Rolling Rolling Rolling

We've reached a new milestone - Liam can roll. Apparently front to back and back to front, but I've only witnessed front to back. He doesn't do it all the time, but it's happened enough times now to know it wasn't just a fluke (like the time he did it on the inclined couch cushion at 2 months and Thomas and I had a panic attack). He's also moving like crazy at night in his crib. He goes to sleep on his back with his head up near his mobile. When I walk up there in the mornings, he's either turned completely around with his head at the other end or he's all smushed up like he was in mid-turn and for some reason decided sleeping in the narrowest part of the crib is ideal. Either way, he's sleeping, so I guess it's all good. I'm too sacked out at night to know when he starts making his moves. I don't wake up until I hear the loud "come get me now!" fusses or my alarm clock (a rarity, but sometimes it beats Liam's built-in clock).

I'm also convinced that we really are teething now (Frank swears he's been teething since about week 6...no teeth yet). He's starting to get extra fussy at times, he can't keep his hand out of his mouth (yum...finger snack!), and he drools buckets. In general, he's still a really happy guy, but there are days (more so recently) where we go through the Liam checklist (diaper, food, book, swing, gym, stationary awesome thing, nap, playtime with Mommy and Daddy, lovey, etc.) to see what will make him happy, but sometimes it's a few hours before he decides he's at peace with the world. Of course, it could also be growing pains. The little monster is three and half months old, and, if my super accurate method (weigh self holding baby, weigh self, subtract) of weighing him is, well, moderately accurate, he's approaching 20 lbs. The scale said there was a 19lb 6oz difference between the two measurements, so I'm assuming he's at least 19lbs. He's shaping up to be a pretty big guy, but the good news is he's cute baby fat, and not overly chunky. Sure, he's got rolls, but in the cutest of places. Plus, Thomas is convinced that at least a pound or two of his weight is in his cheeks. They are so pinchable!

In other Liam news, he's learned how to stick out his tongue (thanks PJ). He thinks its funny, I think its funny that he thinks its funny, so we just crack each other up. There's nothing quite like a Liam laugh and smile. It can make a grown-up tough guy (i.e. Daddy), turn to absolute mush.

He may just be a little dude, but I'm pretty sure he's aware he has the two big people in his house wrapped around his little, slobber-soaked fingers.

Liam Ops

Liam Ops (that's "operations" for you non-NASA folks) take up a significant portion of my week (and Thomas' too!), but sometimes, ops extend beyond formula and diapers to some really, really fun stuff...like dressing him up like a giraffe. That's right. He was a giraffe for Halloween. For five minutes at our house. Then five minutes at Oma's house. Then five minutes at the Cejka house. Just long enough to snap a few pics before he screamed his head off. In his defense, the costume was hot even though we were experiencing some of the coolest temperatures we had seen in a long while.

Our latest challenge in Liam ops is keeping him entertained. His all-time favorite play toy, his gym where he can swat his stuffed bee and chew on everything else really doesn't cut it anymore when Oma went and one-upped us and got a stationary bouncy thing with lots of toys. So we had to go out and buy our own stationary bouncy thing with lots of toys...because he was aware that we did not own a stationary bouncy thing with lots of toys. I said it before when we bought the swing that gave us a solid 6 hours of sleep (which at the time was amazing - now he does that plus some in his crib...woohoo!), but this is probably the best money I've ever spent.

That's "Bat Spud" hanging out in his newest toy (Spud is his normal nickname...the "Bat" only ocomes in when he's wearing his Batman onesie...yup, we are those people.) My living room is starting to resemble an aisle in Babies 'R Us - swings, toys, diapers, etc., etc. This is so not what I wanted, but you have to roll with what works. At least the playpen is in our bedroom and not the living room. Besides, where else would Thomas put laundry that needed to be folded if we didn't have the playpen in our room? It's cheaper than a treadmill and serves the same purpose :)

Lovies and a New Hobby?

We've now reached the point in Liam's life that he has adopted a "lovey". I call it a lovey, but it's actually his security item. Lovey just sounds so much better than diaper rag...yup, he's chosen a diaper rag as his special snuggle buddy. I guess in a way it is perfect. I have a million of them. I can bleach them. They are relatively soft and snuggly. But I had grand visions of him dragging around a blanket a la Linus from Charlie Brown (and Jessica from the Rogers family), but no. Not a stuffed animal either. He even has small stuffed animals attached to the ends of ridiculously soft, small blankets. They are absolutely adorable...but no such luck. Every morning, when I go up to his room, there he is. One arm thrown over his head, the other clutching his lovey in a death grip, usually right up by his cheek. Oh well, you can't win them all.

Although almost everything he does is a "first", we are about to approach some fairly significant firsts. First Halloween - where he will be making an appearance as a giraffe. First Thanksgiving - which is almost in time for first solids. First Christmas - which is probably why I've been on Etsy non-stop. I have to find us our family stockings (I have my eye on some Fair Isle ones at PBK). I also want Liam to have a few awesome things. All he really "needs" is clothes, but I'll be getting him a few handmade special things from people that are far more talented than I. Speaking of...I had this bright idea this weekend that I was going to learn how to knit so I could knit baby blankets for all my friends that are having babies. I bought yarn, needles and book. I learned step 1 (casting on in official knitting terms) rather quickly and was very impressed with myself. However, step 2, aka the actually knitting part...ha. I watched 47 youtube videos, read three pamphlets and still can't do it. Oh, I know how...I totally understand the process, the mechanics of it. I just can't do it and end up with the product I'm supposed to end up with. My yarn is too loose. Let's just say the knitting needles ended up on the other side of the room...several times. So much for finding something calm and soothing to do at night once Liam is asleep.

Tummy Time

I didn't know something called "Tummy Time" existed prior to reading a gazillion baby books, but apparently, it's extremely important. So, in order to work his muscles, build his confidence, keep his head from becoming flat, and all the other millions of things the baby books claim tummy time does, we have a tummy time session at least once per day. We are definitely making progress...I'm a little biased, but I give Liam an A+ in tummy time. He can lift his head up 45 degrees (sometimes a little more) and is starting to make motions like he wants to roll over - he just can't get all the parts and pieces going at the same time. He got a pretty big assist for the "on the side" picture below.

I've learned, through experience, that tummy time should always be on a blanket, even if he's already on something soft, like our bed. Unfortunately, things tend to leak during tummy time...diapers, regurgitated formula...let's just say our sheets saw the washer a few times one week and then we finally got smart (and bought a second set of sheets, just in case of a sanity lapse).

I like tummy time because I get to use it as a chance to take really awesome Liam pictures. He's so darn cute when he's trying so hard to get it all in motion. Okay...again, biased mommy...he's cute all the time. Here's some pictures from today's tummy time session. I was having more fun than he was.

I need tummy time, too, apparently. Even though I weigh less now than before I was pregnant, somehow, all the squishy parts did not go back to normal. The squishy-ness has banded together and formed a pouch (really...like kangaroo pouch minus the hole for the baby roo). I'm not even sure how you go about getting rid of said pouch. It's not where normal squishy resides...it's traveled a little farther south. Fortunately, I can pull my pants up over it AND I have shirts that have a little room at the bottom to help hide it, but still...it's not fair when I manage to delete a fair amount of squishy molecules and the remainder decide to mutiny and band together to cause ridiculousness like kangaroo pouches.

I know, I'm a broken record with the tummy troubles. I guess I figure if I bitch about it enough, maybe I'll be motivated to get off my butt and do something about it. Step one would be to give up drinking the sodas...fat (pun intended) chance. Then, I wouldn't be able to function let alone contemplate exercise. With all the amazing things that science can do, can someone please invent true "diet" Dr. Pepper?!?

Surviving and Thriving

Yesterday marked two months for Liam - it's hard to believe how much he has changed in just this short amount of time. We both managed to make it through my first week (okay, three days) of work, but that boy is bound and determined to make a morning person out of me. He likes to get up bright and early in the morning, earlier than I consider acceptable. I can't complain too much - I do get to catch up on the TV I miss at night by watching the DVR at 5:30 in the morning when he's having a bottle - but I've been up at 6am both days this weekend. I can't tell you the last time I was up that early on both days of the weekend...it may not have ever happened. Even during pregnancy, I'm used to having Thomas yell at me (for the fourth or fifth time) to get out of bed at 10am (or later). The result of the early morning wake-up calls? I've turned into Thomas and go to bed while the sun is still up.

I've lost all my pregnancy weight and then some, so my new goal is to now get the belly back in shape...not that it was really in shape to begin with, but something a little more solid than the bowlful of jelly that I'm working with now. I've done plenty of Liam curls, dead-lifts, and squats, but those aren't going to make the stomach conform. I can, however, carry groceries into the house now by the double armful now. I guess that counts for something, especially since I braved HEB by myself today (sans Liam - he was at Oma's) while Thomas went to the Texans game. Liam or no Liam, HEB requires two people - at least for this family. One person to push the cart and one person to run all over the store as we realize things we forgot, even though they are on the list right in front of us.

Mommyhood has brought on several new hobbies/habits. First, I've become a coupon clipper. No, not one of those extreme coupon crazies, but either Thomas or I will take the time to go through the Sunday paper to see if any of the deals work for us. We've been managing to save about $20 each HEB run...I consider that fairly successful, and we can't believe we haven't done this all along. Second, I'm addicted to Etsy. I haven't bought anything yet, but with so many friends either with babies or having babies, plus Christmas coming on, my credit card is about to see some serious action. I don't have time to be Martha Stewart, but I do (typically) have the means to pay for other people to be! :) I've also been playing fantasy football with the boys, and have managed to be in 1st place for the past two weeks (this has caused some hostility...apparently girls aren't supposed to be good at fantasy football). Not to worry too much, boys. Now that I've returned to work, I can't really spend any significant amount of time doing research, and I see a few rough weeks in my future.

Our lives have been completed turned upside down the past two months, but I wouldn't trade our life now for anything, jiggly stomach included...that's why Spanx exists!!

The End is Near

Tomorrow marks 8 weeks on the planet for Liam. Man, has time gone by fast (it DID NOT go by even close to this fast during my time in the hospital...that felt like months). At least I've been wrapping up my maternity leave in style. Friday (aka the "Final Friday of Fun"), I had lunch with Liam, Frank and PJ down on the Kemah Boardwalk and spent some time walking around, enjoying the weather, and watching the boats sail by (I like to watch boats, not be on boats). Friday night we headed over to poker at Jessica and Dusty's where it was BYOB (bring your own baby). Liam finally got to meet his girlfriends, the minis. Although I can't say there was love at first sight, they definitely have things in common...love of bottles, ability to require diaper changes at a moment's notice, needing to be held by Mommy...hey, it's a start! I can't believe how big the minis are and how amazing they are - I can't wait for Liam to have control over his head and limbs like they do - it will be great to not have to worry about Liam headbutting me and for him to really be able to play in his favorite gym (although he can really give the big bee a good walloping). I didn't win at poker (and neither did Thomas), but I was happy to make a donation to the three champions for all the fun we had :)

Saturday, Thomas, Liam and I ventured downtown for a trip to Pottery Barn Kids. Taking me to PBK is always a very dangerous prospect, and now that they have "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" themed things, it is now also extremely dangerous to take Thomas there as well. We did manage to escape from there without too much damage to the bank account, and headed to lunch at PF Chang's. Liam managed to do some serious snoozing right up until I spooned my orange peel chicken on to my plate...oh the joys of motherhood ;-). Not to worry, the Kamas family is always (HA!) prepared. Since Thomas can eat at light speed (or faster...perhaps he's part neutrino), he downed his lunch and took over for me after a quick run to the bathroom for water to fill up bottle #2 - time to start bringing six oz with us - not four! Of course, when you are in that area, you have to get Sprinkles Cupcakes (it's a rule in our household), which I snacked on last night and plan on chowing on again today. I did yell at Thomas for getting too many cupcakes (there is such a thing when the finally-not-pregnant lady is trying to lose weight...in most normal cases, no such situation exists), but obviously, that is no longer a concern for me - I've given in to the deliciousness.

Today will be football (did I mention that I am in first place in Fantasy Football? That's right...ahead of all the boys!) and relaxation. Then, it's just Monday and Tuesday and back to work on Wednesday. Yikes!!!

Postpartum...Check!

Today was my six week postpartum appointment. I'm happy to report that everything checks out okay and I was given the go-ahead to resume "normal" life...whatever that means these days. The appointment was actually a little bit of a letdown. After nine months of exciting appointments where you discover something new, hear a heartbeat, have an ultrasound, or any or all of the above, a brief chat and a prescription for birth control just really didn't do it for me. I did have to take a test, though. Just a few quick questions to make sure I'm not nuts - passed with flying colors. Still not as exciting as an ultrasound.

I guess it's about time to start getting it back together. I've actually had a strong urge to get the house in order - postpartum nesting, perhaps? I've cleaned and organized and recycled and donated and just have a few more things to tackle before I think I will have satisfied my itch. Impressive? Not really...I've been on massive "spring cleaning" kicks before and always feel the better for it. I'm more impressed that I managed to find the stamina to make it happen. That has been one of the most challenging aspects of recovery - I had NO energy. Even passing Liam off to Oma Frank and taking naps still did nothing for my energy levels. It's hard to function much less decimate closet clutter with the amount of energy I was working with...but it's all better now. Game on, closets of the Kamas household.

It's also back to work soon. That makes me a little nervous. I'm not worried about the work aspect - and I can't wait to see my co-workers and getting back to business - I'm worried about getting up, getting dressed, getting Liam ready, and making it out the door before 10am. I could totally do it if work started at 10:30ish...since it's more like 8ish, I'll have to find a system that works so I don't have to wake up at 5am to get started. I still have to get some sleep!

A Record Breaking Weekend

Frank and I set out for Central Texas at 7am on Friday morning. One McDonald's stop, a U-turn, three hundred red lights on Hwy 6 (don't ask), a stop at Sonic for Frank's diet vanilla coke, one diaper change, 4 oz of formula and a stop in Cameron to see Judy later...we finally arrived in Rogers a little after noon. Frank spent the next two hours showing off her grandbaby to anyone and everyone that would pay attention, heathen high school students included. The first comment from just about everyone was how much little Liam looks like a mini-Thomas (well...except he's not so mini). Liam did very well, especially since we was passed around so everyone could get in baby snuggle time (hey, I understand...I like to snuggle other people's babies, too).

After a quick stop at the bank and a visit to see his Great Uncle Eddie and Great Aunt Melba, we got a phone call from Judy asking us to go pick up her dog from Belton. No problem, we were closer, but at this point I was fiending for a nap. I had only slept about 3 hours the night before and about the same Wednesday night as well with NO NAP thanks to a cardiologist appointment (which went very well, I might add...only one more month of medication and then if all looks good, no mas!) Still, there was more to be done. We got the dog back to Judy's and then headed for the Mexican restaurant that Judy and John eat at apparently almost every night. No kidding, before we even sat down, Judy had her drink and the waitress didn't even bring menus because everyone at the table already knew it by heart (except me). Frank had met a lot of Judy's friends while she was staying with her while finishing up the school year and they all had to see the little man. I finally had to put my head in my diaper bag and start trying to sleep before they decided it was time to leave.

I caught a much-needed nap at Judy's house - not even quite an hour, but it's amazing what getting just a short catnap will do for you - and then headed to Beth and Chris' house so they could meet Liam. We stayed there until about 10pm and then headed into Temple to Uncle Jake and Aunt Tammy's house. After catching up until about 1am, we decided to head to bed. Liam had already been asleep on Tammy for about an hour, and since I had had such a long day, Thomas said he would take the first shift....which didn't come until after 7am! Solid sleep...it was A-MAZ-ING! After a horrible breakfast (sorry Jake, Tammy and Andrew - Thomas picked the restaurant), we headed out to visit Tiffany and then went out to the grandparents' house where Liam got to meet his great-grandma and great-aunt and spent good time snuggling with everyone.

That night, we had a crew over at Jake and Tammy's for more meet and greets with Liam (Tammy & Jake - we owe you big! Thanks for everything and hopefully Tammy got some sleep before work!) However, after listening to Jake and Thomas tell stories about things they did when they were young, I'm strongly considering packing up my sweet little boy and running...no bad influences from Uncle Jake or Daddy...I can't believe both of them survived to adulthood, or at least still have both eyes and all their fingers and toes. ;-)

After two busy, busy days, Liam rewarded us with another 6 hour sleep...woohoo! On Sunday, after breakfast and then a quick stop at the grandparents, we were fighting the wind on the way home, and made it to the house with ZERO stops. He slept the entire way and for a few minutes even when we got home. This much straight sleeping definitely sets a Liam record. We had a lot of stuff to unload (apparently, babies require lots and lots of equipment, more than even my SUV can hold because Frank is bringing back some of it that we didn't need for a few days), but the first thing I noticed was that something smelled funny in our house. We found out that MECO was locked in the closet under the stairs since Thursday night and had left us some "gifts". Even though Dad came and checked on the dogs every day, MECO never cried and let him know he was in the closet. Even after clearing out the blankets and running them through the wash, the closet still smells. Guess what I'm doing this week...grrr.

The Swing of Victory...and the Agony of Defeat

We've discovered a valuable weapon in the "Get Liam to Sleep" crusade - his swing. True, we've known for quite some time that he enjoys his swing, but we had yet to unleash its true potential. When employed at night, the swing can get us around four hours of sleep and once even put him to sleep from 11pm to 5:15am...that's six UNINTERRUPTED hours of sleep. Do I feel guilty for allowing my son to sleep in his swing and not in his bed? Absolutely not. I've long said that whatever works and doesn't hurt the kid is fair game - and that rule applies to all the babies I know. As long as a kiddo isn't being adversely affected, there will be zero judgment from this momma. Liam sleeps in his bed most of the time (and on his grandma the rest), so I'm not really worried about him spending too much time in his swing.

There is one other almost sure-fire way to put Liam to sleep, and that is to take him on a car ride. We have yet to make the 1:30am trek to the car to drive around the neighborhood for hours in hopes of lulling him to sleep, but I have no doubt that if it comes to that, he'll be in that car seat faster than you can say Tylenol PM. I've heard the stories from friends...I have no doubt that one day this will become a reality in the Kamas household.

So...the other day I attempted to put on pants...real pants. I've lost all my pregnancy weight, so (in my mind, at least) it made sense that I could wear my normal pants. Ha...the weight may be gone, but the current shape of my tummy certainly isn't back to normal. Although I could get the pants on (a small victory), there was no way I was going out in public with that much postpartum saggy belly flopping over the sides (hang head in shame). My stomach muscles haven't returned to normal, and until I get the blessing from the doctor to resume exercising, lifting, and all-around normal life in general, there really isn't anything I can do about it. Feeling very defeated, I've opted to continue to wear maternity pants (really, I can't complain too much...stretchy, elastic waist pants are comfortable) when in public and pajama pants when at home. I did manage, however, to wear an old pair of shorts that I found in my drawer that pre-pregnancy wouldn't even stay up. Not sure how to chalk that one up...on one hand, it's real clothes. On the other hand, they might as well be maternity clothes because of all the extra room they (once upon a time) had. Soon enough, I'll be cruising the neighborhood with Liam in an effort to rectify my present situation. Until then, I'll just enjoy my elastic-waist pants.

Baths and Reflections

So the last post pretty much glossed over one of Liam's first major milestones - his first bath. The picture here is actually of his second bath because he wasn't exactly in modesty mode during his first bath, and I'm sure at some point in his life he will appreciate that I didn't publish a picture of his man bits for all the world to see. Knowing that Liam doesn't like being a naked baby, we figured that baths wouldn't go so well. Turns out, he LOVES baths. He just lays in the warm water and doesn't fuss or fidget. He even likes it when Thomas rinses him off with the crab cup with the holes in the bottom that make it like a shower for him. Baths also apparently make him sleepy. We've had naps in excess of 4 hours post-bath. Believe me, even if they say you only need to bathe baby every few days, if a bath gets me a four hour nap, we are having daily baths.

Being almost three weeks postpartum, I've had plenty of time to stop and think about my overall labor and delivery experience. First, I know I owe Aunt Debs an unbelievable amount of gratitude for serving as our Chief of Communications (among the many other things I know she did behind the scenes). Everyone that I talk to says how wonderful it was to get updates...and I know she played a significant role in keeping the crazy to a minimum. Second, I don't care what anyone says, no matter how hard I try to block out the events of July 31 and August 1, I will always remember how much pain I was in (and how good it felt when the epidural finally started working). There was no "magic forgetting" that happened as soon as Liam arrived that people talk about. Oh, it was worth it, don't get me wrong, but not something I plan on signing up for again (by which I mean 37 hours of labor, not necessarily another kiddo...that's TBD). Three, the final nurse in Labor and Delivery (my fourth one...I went through three shift changes during the whole process) was absolutely amazing. She never left my side, except for her quick lunch break, and did everything she could to make sure I was comfortable...and she got all the icky stuff - water breaking, fever, c-section...
all the wonderful parts.

Of course, I can't forget how awesome Thomas was. He got to see a lot more than he probably ever wanted to. I'm kinda confused why they would send a husband out of the room for the epidural (which, really, in the whole process was probably one of the most mundane things that happened), but not for any of the other parts. He could have left if he wanted to during any of the other parts (he toughed it out, though...or remained over on the side...he didn't always want a front row seat to the action), but they don't even give dads-to-be an option to stay during the epidural. Strange...but, whatever. Thomas probably didn't want to see that giant needle. I'm glad I didn't have to see it, but I guess it couldn't have been too big. I saw the (magic!) catheter that was in my back - it was tiny! I did the whole epidural thing twice - nothing to it really. Actually, the whole L&D experience sounds like a MasterCard commercial - Three IV tries, 2 epidurals, 1 c-section - bill TBD (I'm sure it's on its way)...Liam Weston - priceless :)

Ups and Downs

It's been awhile since my last posting and there are a few reasons for that. First, it's fairly important to make sure you aren't in a lack-of-sleep induced stupor when publishing something on the internet for all the world to see (case in point - Thomas has now started pointing out my grammar/spelling mistakes on my blog - a complete role reversal). Second, until last night and today, my days (and nights) have consisted of diapers, formula, laundry and napping (and watching lots of TV on the couch with Frank in the downtime...Nate Berkus at 12 - can't stand him, Days of Our Lives at 1pm - it hasn't changed in 20 years, and Ellen - love her - at 2). Third, the single most exciting event (again, until last night/today) was the celebration that little man's umbilical cord had fallen off and we could finally give him a real bath (bad, bad parents - it fell off on Tuesday and he continued to be "spot-cleaned" until tonight - blame it on sleep deprivation, again).

Bunco was last night, so I got in some good girl time (much needed), but why was today such a big day? After waking up at 7:55am and getting dressed in 5 minutes flat (I told you I could do it, Frank), it was off to the OB to get my two week blessing. Big Event #1 - Little Dude was born 17 days ago - I've lost 33 lbs since then (jeez...why can't it always be that easy?!?). Big Events #2 and #3 - Blood pressure has returned to normal after causing some concern in the hospital and my incision has been blessed by the doctor as "damn near unnoticeable" (I'm paraphrasing...slightly). I can drive again, but no lifting, exercise, baths (very sad), or any other "activities" (sorry, Thomas) until further discussion at the next appointment in 4 weeks. Post-doctor, it was off to Frank's house for a diaper change, feeding, and then running around for errands. This may seem like a small thing to most people, but for the past two weeks, I've seen the walls of my house (with one small excursion to the pediatrician thrown in). It felt good to get out and see the world. Other big events? A stop at Sam's, Space Center Houston (for some last minute space-related essentials for a special not-so-little-anymore dude coming to my house tomorrow), Dickinson BBQ, and Target (truly a big event...it has been WEEKS since I stepped foot in Target).

I wouldn't be true to the intention of this blog (remember, full disclosure, warts and all) if I didn't say that I've been hit with a bit of the "baby blues" the past few days. It's not horrible, and it's completely normal, but try convincing your husband you aren't crazy when you are in bed cuddling your little baby and five seconds later you are crying your eyes out and can do nothing to stop it (and nothing started it). Getting out and about definitely helps, but I'm pretty sure sleep deprivation plays a large role. Your hormones are out of whack and you are supposed to function on the same amount of sleep (or less) the Navy Seal wannabees get during Hell Week? Tom Cruise can bite my butt if he thinks any of this is "in my head". It's real, but fortunately, not debilitating. I feel for the women that get it hard, and am thankful that medication exists that can help lift people out of the funk (again, bite me Tom Cruise...I remember when you were mean to Brooke Shields). Yesterday was a good day (0 tears) and today has been pretty good, too (just a few tears, and some more now as I write this...but, again, I promised to be open). Fortunately, I have a great support system, and got really great advice from some FWBs (Friends With Babies) that it's normal, natural, and they all went through it, too. It actually doesn't bother me too much - most of the time, it's fleeting and I'm happy just as fast as I was sad - but it is hard when a crying spell hits when I'm holding the little man. I don't want him to look at me and see an unhappy person (enter guilt which usually equals more tears)...especially when I couldn't be more thrilled to snuggle up with him. This, along with the sleep deprivation, will soon pass and I'll be back to my (new) normal self. Fortunately, neither the blues nor lack of sleep seems to run much interference on sarcasm (i.e. my sense of humor). No need to send out the cavalry, friends and family, I promise, I'm okay...just writing about it is therapy enough...no need for any Hallmark moments. If I need to talk to someone, I promise, I will. FWBBs (Friends With Belly Babies), I'm passing on the advice that the FWBs gave me - it's fine, it's normal, and I'm here if you need me once you lose the belly.

Since I apparently get to have my pregnancy (well, post-pregnancy) moment of crazy (and well deserved, I might add) after all, I think I'll chalk this week up in the positive column...assuming I can get at least three uninterrupted hours of sleep at some point tonight.

Liam's Got Mail

Technically, Liam received his first piece of mail months ago when Aunt Debs sent him a postcard from the shuttle launch in Florida. However, a mere 12 days after his birth, and only 11 since we filled out his birth certificate information and a request was sent to the Social Security office, imagine our surprise when TODAY in the mail was his first official, government document - his Social Security card. Apparently, some form of our government manages to function in a timely fashion. I would also like to take the time to point out that the federal government managed to respond to a request even faster than Comcast, and I'm pretty sure Comcast has fewer "customers" to keep up with (Thomas and I have been waiting for our rebate for switching providers since May...after significant battles and numerous phone calls, supposedly it's in the mail).

I guess all we need now is his birth certificate and he'll be 100% official. I told Thomas we didn't need a special birth certificate, but apparently, one with the Texas flag and "Native Texas" written on it will be arriving in our mailbox in the near future. Only Texas would make a special birth certificate announcing the baby as a native Texan - as if the birth certificate stating he was born in Texas wasn't enough proof. Sometimes you just have to laugh...and then order another plain birth certificate because you aren't going to want to hand that one over to anyone that needs a copy.

In terms of my recovery, I'm doing pretty well. I still don't move very fast, and I can't bend way down, like to put Liam in his swing, but overall, I'm pretty functional. It's surprising how fast you can feel better after what is considered major abdominal surgery. I finished one of my prescriptions and actually have a little left of my main painkiller prescription - one that during the first few days at home I took every four hours like clockwork, much like I pushed the magic epidural button every 20 minutes while in the hospital. Lack of sleep continues to be the biggest hurdle, although now I'm also convinced I have carpal tunnel syndrome. My hands hurt a lot when I wake up in the morning and my symptoms are very similar to what Thomas describes, and we know he has carpal tunnel. Apparently, carpal tunnel is very common in postpartum women and it typically goes away. Here's hoping...

I did managed to pull all the surgical tape off my incision this morning, too. They are supposed to fall off about a week after you go home...I was at a week + 2 days, so I decided to peel them off myself. Much like getting the IV or epidural taken out, the worst pain was the fact that the tape was stuck to hair and you just have to suck it up and pull (or have the nurses do it). You know where the c-section incision is (roughly), so just imagine what I'm talking about here...not pleasant. I'm fairly positive I'm going to have a charge on my hospital bill for a back wax...or maybe that comes complimentary with the epidural. ;)

Nights and LPODs

Please forgive any mistakes and/or ramblings that appear in the blog in the near future - although I can no longer claim pregnancy brain, I can absolutely claim shear exhaustion. Since Thomas is back at work, I'm handling the majority of the overnight duty (Thomas still helps out some - but he needs to be able to sleep more than I do). This wouldn't be a problem is Liam slept at night like he sleeps during the day. I think last night I saw some part of every hour on the clock until I finally slept from about 5am - 8:30am. During the day, he's good for 3-4 hours each feeding, easy, but at night, he manages to pee through his diaper and wakes up angry (I would be too). When he gets too upset, he then needs to be fed, whether its been an hour or four. You have to remove yourself from a zombie state and remember when the last time he ate was so you can either give him a full bottle or only 2 oz depending on how long it's been. I learned the hard way the other night not to overfeed him - I was rewarded with baby formula vomit on me from head to toe. That's not something I want to repeat.

I'm not sure why you can't go back to exercising quickly after giving birth...I'm doing nine pound curls on almost an hourly basis and my back is feeling it. Definitely not ready to go run a marathon, but I think I might be able to hold my own at the weight rack in the gym. All the up and down with the little dude is adding up - maybe I'll have momma biceps by the time maternity leave is over.

I'm not complaining, I love my little man, but I would do just about anything at this moment for eight solid hours of sleep. The lack of sleep is definitely taking its toll - I feel like a zombie. I try to nap during the day, but there is a lot of stuff to do. Thanks to the feedings and the subsequent diaper changing requirements, there is a LOT of laundry. There are also bottles to be cleaned, a baby to be held, and a momma to feed (which only happens on occasion - sleep and baby trump lunch). Fortunately, I have a lot of help. Thomas is great when he gets home from work and Dad comes by during the day to lend a hand and hold the baby. Of course, once Frank gets back from the Indiana trip, she probably won't put him down for two or three days. Now that Jessica has been successfully returned to Indiana, Thomas has been instructed that Aunt Jessica must receive an LPOD message daily (LPOD = Liam picture of the day). She won't see him again until Thanksgiving, and by that time, little man will be almost four months old and completely different...and hopefully sleeping through the night.

Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the News

Today was Liam's first official outing, and I guess mine too. Although I'm moving around, I'm still in some pain from the surgery and can't really get too active or I really start hurting. I'm not going anywhere on my own any time soon...

Since Frank (aka Oma) is off returning Jessica to the land of the Hoosiers, PJ (that's Grandpa - PJ stands for Pa Junior) took me and Liam to the pediatrician's office for the first check-up. Of course, before you can go anywhere, it is very important to make sure you have the essentials in the diaper bag. I apparently have no idea what I'm doing in this department. I didn't have enough diapers for this 2 hour excursion (I thought 2 would be enough), I didn't bring the pacifier...at least I remembered all his paperwork. Lesson learned on the diapers - pack what you think you need and then add four more.

Once we got there and got checked in, it was time for a weigh-in. Unfortunately for Liam, this means naked baby time. Liam HATES naked baby time with a passion. He hadn't really slept that morning so I knew that as soon as he was naked, it would be game on for some serious fussing, especially since lunchtime was right around the corner. He got weighed and measured and he's + 1 inch and +13oz since birth (9 days ago)...my little milk monster is growing very quickly...and for good reason. As soon as the nurse left and we got a diaper back on him the screaming commenced. I did remember to pack bottles, so I managed to get his lunch in him and got him back to his normal, calm self before the doctor walked in.

She looked him over and declared him a keeper. She didn't even blink when I told her how badly the chunky monkey is trying to eat me out of house and home. She just said if he goes longer than 4 hours between feedings, it's not a problem. Clearly, the boy isn't starving. He did have thrush, a common occurrence in babies, but it should clear up after a round of his antibiotics assuming he can keep the doses down better than he did today. Last but not least, it was time for the blood test. I was holding Liam and braced for the worst as the nurse came at him with the heel stick poker-thing. The kid barely even flinched. There was no crying, no tears, no quivering lip, nothing. It's possible he was still in his lunch-induced milk coma, but I expected at least a little fussing. Not that tough little man - amazing. The nurse asked me what number kid this was for me. When I told her it was my first, she was surprised. Apparently, she was more impressed with my performance during the heel stick and subsequent blood-letting than she was Liam's - I guess first time moms don't typically remain as calm as I managed to feign during the process.

Something New Every Day

Every day I learn something new about Liam. He's a week old tomorrow and already I can see him growing and changing. He's doing better during diaper changes (one of the few times he gets fussy with us) and he's awake a little more each day for playtime. He's also already so strong. He can hold his head up and move it around. He loves to focus on lights and people. He knows what is comfortable and what isn't. Today while I was holding him on my shoulder, he completely readjusted himself so that he was laying in my arms, facing me so he could watch me. He just kept pushing and scooting until he got there. Absolutely amazing...I can't believe what such a new little guy can accomplish.

We had his newborn photos taken today, too. That was an experience. For as much as we put him through, he did very well. However, he didn't let us get away with too much craziness. During naked baby pictures he peed the cushion and blanket we were using and during outside pictures (during which he was diapered) he peed the chair. He manages to wet himself often thanks to the petroleum jelly we have to put into his diaper for his circumcision to heal. It creates a waterproof barrier in the diaper and then it's essentially like he has nothing on at all...very counterproductive. Fortunately, that's healing very well and we can have functioning diapers again soon. I can't wait to see how the pictures turn out - our photographer was amazing! There are just a few more photos we are going to try and take ourselves tomorrow that I want to have. I definitely want one with all three of our hands and Thomas wants one of him in Packers gear sitting in the cheesehead. If we can get it done tomorrow, I'll post them.

It all still seems a little surreal most of the time. I have a baby...I'm a mommy. I keep waiting for the hormones to kick in and for me to go a little crazy. First, I feel that I've earned a little moment of crazy and second I never really went pregnancy bonkers during the 40 weeks (Thomas may feel differently, but I don't recall more than a handful of times when I just went randomly nuts). Of course, given my experiences thus far, I'll probably continue to be atypical. Oh well, not going crazy wouldn't exactly be considered a bad thing. I do get the urge to cry every now and then, but they are always overwhelming tears of joy, like I can't believe that I made the precious little man I'm holding in my arms. The good news is that if I do go crazy, I've got an unbelievable support system - I guess I'm prepared either way :)

Right now, my biggest complaint is my "clubfoot". For some reason, the swelling on my right foot refuses to go down. It might go down some during the night or even during the day, but more often than not, it's swollen up and bears little resemblance to foot...and nowhere, and I do mean nowhere, is there an ankle. Other than that, my pain medication is pretty much keeping on top of the rest. I can tell when I do too much and Thomas still has to help me shower and get dressed, but overall, I'm pretty resilient. I told the nurse I'm "good" at surgery (like you can really be good at surgery) and she knocked on wood. Turns out I knew what I was talking about. Not that I'm signing up for a marathon or anything, but I'm feeling 1000% better than when I was in the hospital. I promise to continue to take it easy until I'm fully healed, but it's nice to feel human again (and to not have a human inside me). I do have to use a stool to get in bed. Not really sure that is safe, but it's the only way I can get into bed without straining too much and believe me, I'm sleeping in MY bed.

Homecoming

We're home!! And it feels so good to be here. All though I appreciated the wonderful staff at the hospital, it is amazing to be back in my house, where no one wants to take my blood pressure, temperature, or ask me to state my name and birthday at various hours of the day and night. Recovering in the hospital wasn't exactly fun-filled. At one point I had a fever and had to have my temperature checked every 30 minutes. Fortunately, it wasn't a true fever, but required me to drink water and juice by the gallon which of course meant I had to get up and go to the bathroom (not fun) every hour. Of course, Liam got to spend most of the time in the room with us, so I had no problem wiling away the hours watching him. Sleeping would have been my second favorite thing to do, but unfortunately, sleeping is not something that readily occurs in the hospital.

So a little more on recovery because it was an interesting few days. I went into the postpartum wing on Monday night after the c-section. I was still hooked up to the epidural so after waking up from the fabulous bonus c-section drugs, I was feeling pretty good. Apparently, the nursing staff thought there was a problem with my catheter and decided on Tuesday morning at about 4am that I needed a new one (woohoo for me). Turns out there was nothing wrong with my catheter, I was just so dehydrated from everything that I was only "going" just a tiny little bit. Amazing, considering at that point I had about 12 IV bags worth of fluid in me. After the catheter went back in at 4am, it came out at 7am and I was told it was time to get up and start moving. Yipes! My first trip to the bathroom was rather public as I not only got to walk my half-naked self over there with tons of assistance and on-lookers, I also got to have my "deposit" inspected by about three different people for both quality and quantity. Fortunately, I passed...whatever that means.

Tuesday was also the day of the sponge bath. There is nothing quite like sitting on the toilet naked while being scrubbed by someone you met two hours ago at shift change. I can't complain too much - it felt amazing - but I'm not exactly comfortable with someone scrubbing up all the goods. And I do mean ALL the goods. What do you say and/or where do you look while someone is scrubbing what she calls "the good stuff"? I tried to take it all in stride, and I was very thankful to be clean, but I could have held out another day when I was finally allowed to shower on my own.

It was a long day of getting up and down and taking my laps around the ward, but at least I had lots of visitors. Even after visiting hours are over, it's hard to feel alone at the hospital. People come in at all hours to check varying things, but to also do very important things like deliver pain medicine. My least favorite visit of the hospital was probably when the anesthesiologist came in at 6am on Wednesday morning to announce that they were taking my epidural and the magic extra-dose button that comes with it away. I knew Wednesday was D-day, but 6am? Really? By 7am, the nurses had taken it away and I was on to oral pain medication only. For a girl that can't swallow pills, this is an interesting prospect. The liquid vicodin was fabulous, but I have to take 800mL (which is equal to 800mg) of ibuprofen. That is a LOT of little liquid packs the nurse has to open when they only come in 100mL size.

Fortunately, Thursday rolled around and we got to come home. Although I'm elated to be home, I imagine Thomas must feel as happy as me if not more. For the entire hospital stay he got to stay on a fold-out chair-bed that his feet hung off the end of. He stayed by my side for practically our entire stay at the hospital (he really only left to go home a few times for clothes and to get food for himself) and witnessed things that would have had most men running for the hills. He deserves a medal because he was definitely in the trenches (get that metaphor?). He took it all in stride and didn't even breathe a sigh of relief and run when I told him if he was uncomfortable doing/seeing whatever it was he was helping me with or helping me through...he just kept going strong. I'm lucky to have such a great guy - he's certainly seen me at my worst, now, and he's still around.

All About Liam

I guess that technically the last posting was really my birth story. Liam probably feels a little different about the process. He clearly wanted out as bad as I wanted him out. He came out with quite the cone-head from the several hours he spent working his way out until he got stuck. Apparently this is where all the pressure I was feeling was coming from. We also found out after the c-section that his umbilical cord was tied in a knot. The doctors and nurses couldn't believe that he had showed no signs of distress during the labor process. In a previous ultrasound, he had a nuchal cord, which meant it was wrapped around his neck. At that time, the doctor told us not to worry, most babies have that at some point and it almost always resolves itself before delivery. We were at 26 weeks, so there really was no reason for concern. Sometime between then and his birthday, he managed to swim himself into a knot (not really sure how he had room to do that). During the stress of labor, it would have been very easy for his knot to cause serious complications if it cut off his oxygen supply. Thankfully, Liam is one tough little man and although we had a c-section, it wasn't a true emergency like it easily could have been.

In his first few days of life, he's been the best baby. He softly cries when he has a dirty diaper, wails when you change him, and then stops instantly as soon as the new diaper is back on. That's really the only time he fusses. He takes down more formula than all the other babies in the nursery. He loves to snuggle up against you. He has a little bit of hair that ranges somewhere between dirty blond and brown. His eyes are blue, at least for now, but they have a small inner ring of brown which probably means they will change colors at some point. He loves people and has no problem being passed around the room - which is a good thing because he spends very little time not being held.

Little Liam gets to go home today and meet all his furry brothers and sisters. This will be an experience for all involved, I'm sure. I'll just be glad for a change of scenery after spending the past three days in this hospital room. Come and see us :)

Liam's Birth Story

July 31 - The Beginning
Thomas and I had just finished watching Back to the Future (parts II and III), and while Thomas drifted off to dream world, I stayed awake, like usual, watching TV. When 3am hit, I decided to call it a night, turn off the TV, and try to get some sleep. No sooner than I had got back from the bathroom and laid down, I started to feel contractions. After our false alarm the prior weekend, I figured I'd lay in bed for awhile and see if anything came of it. Very quickly they started coming fast and in what seemed like a measurable pattern, so at 4am I woke Thomas up and told him it's time to start timing contractions. Based on our timing, they were coming roughly every 3 minutes and lasting about a minute. I would like to take a moment to point out that the "go to the hospital when your contractions are 5-6 minutes apart" rule never, ever, ever applied to this pregnancy. My contractions were NEVER that far apart. So around 5am we made the call to head to the hospital fully convinced that this was the real deal.

We got up to Labor and Delivery quickly and were happy to find that our nurse was the same nurse we had the prior weekend during our false alarm. I was checked and it turned out I wasn't exactly in active labor, but I was looking pretty close. They had me go walk around the hospital for an hour and then come back to be checked again. The contractions were still coming fast and furious and I was having trouble walking, but I was determined not to be sent home...again. Back up to L&D for another check (did I mention how much I HATE being checked?). I had made very limited progress and was told I could stay and they would admit me, but that meant no food, no nothing until he was born, or we could go home, take a bath, take a Tylenol PM, eat some lunch and come back later in the day. So, by 10am, the Kamas family was back home.

I took a quick bath (which did nothing), took a Tylenol PM (also nothing) and laid in bed. I made it as long as I could...but I was in so much pain I couldn't stand it anymore. So at noon, I had Thomas make me some buttered toast (which was about the only thing that I could even fathom keeping down at that point) and by 1pm we were back at the hospital. Let me just say, I am in absolute awe of anyone that can go through childbirth without taking meds. Laboring at home for 3 hours just about did me in. I was ready to call uncle.

The good news is, when we came back this time, we went right back to our old room, got checked, and turned out, I was STILL not in active labor - only 3 cm dilated (I don't like this term "active labor"...it's all labor, no matter how many centimeters dilated you are), but I had made enough progress and was in enough pain that they decided to admit me and give me drugs (woohoo!!)

July 31 - Just Getting Warmed Up
I got my first round of drugs and was in heaven. I managed to get a good solid hour to hour and a half of sleep which was much needed after being awake since 9am Saturday morning. It also helped with the pain, which was much appreciated. Of course, by this time the call had gone out that I was admitted to the hospital and the troops were gathering at the hospital, by text, Facebook, you name it. Of course, during this time, you still get checked what seems like every 15 minutes, which I reiterate, is AWFUL. I was making progress, but nice and slow. I managed to go a little bit without any additional pain relief for a little bit, but I was soon begging for another round of drugs. When they brought the IV bag that had worked it's magic just a short bit ago, I was like a new woman. And then...it didn't work. Apparently, the first round is the most effective, and then after that you build up a tolerance and it doesn't work so well. Not what I had in mind.

I labored a little bit longer without drugs because they were trying to decide if an epidural was the right course of action. I was still a little early on in the process to really get an epidural, but I was once again begging for relief. A compromise was made - I would labor a little bit on the ball (which helps change your position) and then take a nice jacuzzi bath - and then we'd see. The ball helped some, although I have to say there is nothing quite like sitting on a ball draped in a pad (because you are leaking some pretty icky stuff) and rolling around in front of an audience. Those that know me know I'm not really a modest person. I'm pretty open and I'm not afraid to ask OR share. The whole labor and delivery process tested my mettle (more on that later).

By the time I was in the jacuzzi tub, I was basically convulsing and crying through each contraction as Thomas looked on in absolute terror. True, I had been in a significant amount of pain prior to this moment, but this was another level. Thomas helped me out, got me back on the ball (we were at least alone this time) and called for the nurse. Finally, we got good news - the epidural was on its way! Absolutely amazing how fast I can become a happy Becky at the sound of that word. Around 11:30pm, the anesthesiologist arrived and Thomas was thrown out of the room. The epidural was relatively pain free - honestly, the initial numbing shot hurt more than anything else - and it really didn't hurt. However, the doctor was having a really hard time locating the correct space in my back. Finally, he got it in, but I knew I was in trouble when he said, "I tried but I couldn't really find a space. We'll cross our fingers and see what happens. I'll come back if I need to." Well, crap. That did not sound promising...nor was it. Even after he came back and added a significant of medication, still only minor relief. Not the glorious, amazingness I was told to expect. Grrr....

August 1 - Sweet Relief
After more shaking and convulsions and the changing of the months from July to August, nothing was happening. I was stuck in bed with a catheter (even more awfulness) because I had an "epidural". About 1:55am, I was convinced that I had peed myself, and since this is pretty much impossible to do with a catheter in, I was a little freaked out. A nurse came and checked me and said it looked like my water had broke...that had to mean progress! Nope...another nurse checked and said she could still feel my bag of waters AND that I was still only a four...rapidly approaching the 24 hour mark and all I'd managed to do was dilate two centimeters? And this is with contractions coming every 3 minutes? This is so not how labor is supposed to work!

Good news came at 3:30am with the arrival of the anesthesiologist again. In 15 short minutes, I had a true epidural. My legs were tingling before I even managed to get completely back in bed. Other than some slight pressure and Liam moving around, I felt nothing! So I did what any sane pregnant woman in the throes of a 24 hour labor would do - I took a nap...and it was HEAVEN! Even after I woke up, I was still blissfully pain free. Now this is what I'm talking about. At one point, I was starting to feel some mild pain, and in came an anesthesiologist, added some medication and it went away. Miracle of miracles! Finally, life was good.

Now, enter the next several hours where I get checked almost constantly, especially since I was on Pitocin to really kick-start the contractions. Apparently, dilation is not exactly a clearly defined term. I'm not sure how that works - isn't a centimeter a centimeter? That's not exactly up for debate - those are measurements - they don't change. At any rate, there was some debate between doctors and nurses and had my numbers anywhere between 4 and 7. Seriously? Come to find out, there was debate because I was getting very swollen on the inside and the measurements were actually bouncing back and forth. How much luckier could a girl get? Apparently lots...

Next up on the agenda was a fever, complete with two more IV drips and a suppository Tylenol. Lucky me! And I got to learn that epidurals block pain but not pressure, and Liam had decided to push his head down on my bottom areas like no other. I was on my side moaning in pain, unable to do anything except focus on the agonizing pressure that I could do nothing about. An anesthesiologist did come in and try to give me a little more medication, but it was short lived. I know there were people in the room, but I honestly couldn't tell you who was in there. I remember at one point looking at the nurse and saying, "Honestly, I'm at my limit both physically and emotionally. I don't know how much more I can take." I'm sure I threw in my best pleading puppy dog eyes, too.

Vaginal delivery is the ideal way to deliver a baby for both mother and baby, and since the baby was not showing any signs of distress, we were still going for it. But things just kept stacking on top of each other. I wasn't progressing, my fever wasn't going away - and just like that, my doctor walked in and announced I was going in for a c-section. I asked the nurse, "how long?" and her reply was, "We'll be back there in 20 minutes, they are just cleaning up an OR because we've had 12 c-sections today." Wow...it finally hit me - it was time to meet Liam and all the agony of the last 36 hours was coming to an end.

August 1 - Liam's Delivery
Once you get on the c-section docket, things begin to happen real fast. I was given even stronger medication in my epidural to help numb me from the ribs down (where was that earlier?) Thomas put on his scrubs and off we went. I don't remember a whole lot about the process. I do know they wiped my face with a cold cloth and then my belly. I could feel the wipe but not the cold...strange. Same thing once the procedure began. I could feel the cutting, but there was no pain. I could feel the stretching, but there was no pain. I could feel...PAIN! I started yelling that I could feel what they were doing (turns out my epidural hadn't numbed all of my insides), but within 5 seconds (if that), I had good stuff pumped into my epidural and squirted into my insides and I felt only pressure. About this point, Liam started squirming around uncontrollably, so I figured it had to be about time for him to pop out. Then the anesthesiologist asked me if she could give me something that would sedate me and I probably wouldn't remember much of what was happening. Yes, please.

After that moment, here is what I remember: I heard Liam cry as he came out and I cried, too. Thomas asked if they were happy tears or pain tears (happy). And then, I was headed to my recovery room. Pictures tell a much different story. I apparently was coherent enough at one point to lean over and kiss Liam as we had our first family picture that you see below. (Please don't look to close at my gross face - I had been in labor for 37.5 hours at that point and it is beyond nasty and greasy).

The first time I "remember" seeing Liam was when Thomas showed me pictures. It wasn't until I was in recovery and more coherent that I got to see him for real. My beautiful baby boy, worth all 37.5 hours and then some, was really here.

Of course, there are a lot more details, but I think I've assigned enough reading material for this blog. I'll be writing some more this week about recovery, and all the things that are going on with our precious bundle. Thanks to everyone for the well wishes and congratulations. We are so blessed to be surrounded by amazing friends and family.

A Note to Liam and TMI for Everyone Else

Dear Liam,
Consider this your eviction notice. It's time to come out. You were meant to be a July baby, and you are very quickly running out of time. The tropical storm isn't coming to Houston, Debs is going to Louisiana for the weekend (which she's doing for me - obviously if she canceled her trip you wouldn't come), we've managed to get all the cat hair out of your bed...what more could a little guy possibly ask for? Plus, I've been in a lot of pain off and on the last couple of days, maternity leave has officially started and the UPS man delivered the diaper bag yesterday. The ball is in your court. I've done everything I can to get ready for you. Time to hold up your end of the bargain little dude. Thanks - Mom.

WARNING - Possibly TMI Below - WARNING

My mucous plug has been coming out for the past two days. It's pretty gross, but a good sign. Of course, it doesn't mean that labor will soon be upon us, but still, it's another step in the right direction. After the contractions and pains I've been having the last few days, I'm pretty hopeful we've surpassed the 2cm/70% effacement mark set at the last appointment. Still not labor, yet, though. I like to think of myself as a fairly patient person. Not anymore. My patience is done. I want this over and done with - I DO NOT want to show up to my appointment on Tuesday (40 weeks, 2 days). While it's true that my due date isn't technically until Sunday, this kid has been measuring at least a week ahead, which (by my personal, professional diagnosis) that he is LATE

What happened to the "it's important that you take it easy and make it to 37 weeks - that's our goal"? If I would have continued pushing myself, hoofing my way into work each morning instead of working from home, could this have all ended weeks ago? Before, as Thomas so delicately puts it, Liam is big enough to come crawling out? Guess we will never know.

Until there is enough information for another update (like hopefully one titled - My Water Broke!), I'm curling up and watching Project Runway.

A Few Steps Forward

Well, we got decent news at the appointment today. Progress is being made. After being measured as a 1+ and 50% at the hospital on Saturday night (which quickly became Sunday morning), by today we are at a solid 2cm and 70% effaced. Things are happening, just slower than I prefer. Although the doctor is hopeful (and was actually hopeful on Saturday and was ready to come in for Liam's arrival), we went ahead and scheduled my 40 week and 2 day appointment for August 2. I want a July baby...I don't want to wait until August!

If I make it to the next appointment, we'll then talk about induction. Until then, she's hoping it happens on its own, without medical intervention, which is better for me and the baby. I understand...I'd rather not have to be induced since I understand that being put on Pitocin can cause some seriously painful contractions. After experiencing a couple of real ones on Saturday, I'm not looking forward to having "more painful than normal" contractions. The regular ones are just fine, thank you. Plus, Thomas likes to give me the play-by-play when he watches the monitors. I can tell by his face that one is coming because he looks at my face expectantly, waiting for it to scrunch up or for me to moan and breathe through it. He'll then tell me, "Yeah, that one went up to like 90...". Yup, thanks dear, I know. I don't care what the nurses say about that device not being able to really measure the strength of the contractions. If the numbers are going up, so is my level of pain.

I'm going to attempt to walk tonight to help bring on labor. I say "attempt" because there are a few factors that could ruin this plan. First, I can't really "walk" - my hips are beyond sore so I do a form of shuffling/waddling. Second, it's ridiculously hot outside. Yes, I know. I live in Houston. It's July. Of course it's hot outside. I don't want to walk too far away from my house where there is air conditioning and ice water when the temperature plus the humidity level totals over 150, even after the sun goes down. Thomas might actually have to follow behind me in the car so that when I'm done, I can be returned to the house. Or maybe I won't even leave the house...there is ice cream here.

Failed Attempt #1

We had our first failed attempt to have Liam last night. After heading to the bed to watch some TV around 9pm, Liam went nuts. He kept kicking and rolling and wouldn't stop. Around 11:00pm, I also started getting stabbing pains in my lower pelvic region that were very short, but very painful. We called the on-call doctor (miracle of miracles, it happened to be MY doctor), and she said to come on in and get checked. We got to the ER around 11:45pm and headed up to labor and delivery. After answering nine million questions from our very sweet nurse, I got hooked up to all the monitors and quickly learned several things:

1. Liam was fine, although very uncooperative to have the heart monitor put on me in a place where it would be comfortable. He much preferred the bed at the most inconvenient, awful angle possible and only after he danced around for five minutes while she tried to find his heartbeat.

2. I was having contractions roughly every 2.5 minutes, but was only feeling about every third one.

3. Having contractions every 2.5 minutes can mean absolutely nothing in the labor and delivery world.

4. After almost another whole week, I was now dilated to a 1+ (hey, I added a plus), and 50% effaced. Not in "labor".

She told me that she would come back in an hour and check me and see if the contractions, which were very regular and starting to become more painful as I laid on my back, were doing anything. One whole hour later, zero progress, and I got sent home with instructions to take a warm bath, take a Tylenol, drink as much water as I could and get some sleep. Ha, did they really think I could sleep? Turns out, wasn't really a problem. With the exception of a few bathroom breaks, I slept like a rock from 3:30am until around 10:30am.

Here's hoping attempt #2 is more successful than attempt #1!

Roads and Roombas

So we are still waiting for Liam to make his arrival, but at least the gods are conspiring to make it an interesting wait. As I often say about the events that seem to happen in my life, you can't make this stuff up. So far today we've had one minor incident and one hilarious Roomba occurrence. For the minor incident, it turns out the the pothole Thomas hit earlier in the week didn't throw a weight off his tire, but instead actually bent two of his tires. Fortunately, insurance will cover all but the deductible, but not before we paid Volkswagen $100 to take the car apart and figure out what the problem is. Oh well, it all works out better than us having to cover the repairs out of pocket and is only a slight inconvenience to be down a car since I'm really not going anywhere these days. This incident isn't exactly amusing, but it does take one's thoughts off of the waiting...now for the other thing...now that was funny.

In terms of the Roomba, let's just say I'm glad the discovery was Thomas' and not mine. As we often do when we leave the house, Thomas kicked on Roomba to go forth and conquer the collie hair that's covering the floors. However, after we left, Daytona also had an accident (of the solid variety) on the kitchen floor. Since the Roomba is trained to sweep almost the entire first floor of the house, Roomba sweeps the kitchen, too. Let's just say that Thomas called and said there were Roomba "tracks" throughout the entire kitchen...and later he gets to take apart the entire Roomba and clean it piece by piece. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time.

The next appointment is on Tuesday...until then, I'll just sit back, relax and see what else is in store for me in the entertainment department. :)

Defeat

From time to time, I go on the online communities and see what the preggo world is talking about. Most of the time it's first time mom's asking questions about labor, delivery, what contractions feel like, etc., etc., but it's also a whole lot of complaining and whining (which I'm totally not guilty of, right...?). One of the biggest whines is the "failure to progress" whine, which is usually along the lines of "I've been 3 cm for two weeks and still no labor". I usually dismiss these posts, never quite grasping how it felt to have your body let you down. Obviously something is happening or you would be at a 0, so how bad can it possibly be?

Well, enter Tuesday, when I found out that after an entire week, my numbers were exactly the same as they were the previous Tuesday - 1cm and 30%. When she told me, I finally understood how the women on the boards felt. I felt defeated...how could my body have let me down? Seven whole days and I managed to accomplish nothing!?! Just a few short weeks ago we were talking about the importance of me taking it easy to make sure I safely made it to 37 weeks, and now I'm being encouraged to walk, move, do anything to get labor going (all while still following the instructions of the cardiologist to "take it easy" and not get my heart rate up). Sure, no problem. Let me try to kick start labor while at the same time continue on modified bed rest with my feet up the majority of the day...no problem.

We had a brief moment of panic today when Liam decided to stop moving for three solid hours, even after I drank a soda to try and jump start him. By now, I'm so used to him jamming me in ribs (often times hard enough to make me wince or cry out), that to not feel anything for a few hours was a bit scary. We were just about ready to call the on-call doctor when he woke up and turned my belly into his punching bag for a good solid hour. He's only taken a few breaks since then, and makes sure to land a few kicks every 30 minutes or so. It's almost like he's telling me, "See Mom? I'm fine...here's what you get for worrying."

In other Kamas family news, MECO has been going extra crazy lately. His new favorite thing? Putting himself in "jail". We have a folding screen in front of the fireplace and he will push one side in, jump up into the fireplace, and then jump out so he is behind the screen. He will then sit there, behind the screen, with his big cat eyes, and look at me all sad. He will then "trumpet" (MECO-language for his meowing) until I go and "rescue" him. This game is only fun for MECO...

No news is...well, no news

It's the start of Week 38 and no end in sight. I did manage to get a really great nap in today, but since I managed to fall asleep at 7:15pm, there's a really good chance that now that I'm up and moving again, I won't see the backs of my eyelids again until the it's technically Monday. Then it's up and "off to work" (i.e. grabbing my laptop off the charger and bringing it into bed) for another week of trying to keep my mind off of what is not happening.

The doctor suggested walking (among other things) to help get labor started, and Thomas has been encouraging me to get off my tail and Jessica even invited me to take a stroll with her and her babies (I had every intention of going...the aforementioned nap-time interfered!) I'm going to give it a shot tomorrow evening, but anyone that has been anywhere with me lately (and I haven't been many places - I've been following doctor's orders to take it easy and make sure I don't overexert myself...have to keep the heart rate and stress down, plus I get really swollen when I spend any amount of time on my feet) knows that I'm moving about the speed of snail. In fact, last night after enjoying a casual family dinner out, we all were walking to the car and about 60 seconds into the walk, four heads look back to realize that I'm 30 paces behind, breathing hard and in general, hating life. It's a conundrum...which orders (from the same doctor I might add) to follow? Rest, relax and take it easy - don't get worked up OR attempt to make it further than the amount of steps it takes to reach the car in an effort to kick-start my body?

Tomorrow is my birthday which fits in with Thomas' plan to ensure I'm "old" when Liam is born (old = same age as Thomas, not that I'm not almost an entire year younger...and he won't be "older" in a couple of months). My mother is convinced Liam is coming tomorrow; however, the official prophet has spoken and decreed the 20th the day. For those that don't know, the official prophet/source of information in the Rogers household for the past several years has been a pink pig that serves as a dry erase board. The pig is how the family keeps up with what is going on, from countdowns to status updates. I don't even remember when the pig appeared, I just know that if you need to get any information to the family, the best place to put it is on the pig because everybody checks the pig. The pig currently says Liam is arriving on 07/20/2011. (Remember - I can't make this stuff up - this is how my family operates...) I guess we will see on Wednesday if the pig knows his stuff.

Making Some Progress

Well, some progress is being made in Operation Get Liam Out. According to the doctor, I'm 1cm and 30% effaced. It's not much, but it's definitely more than last week. Although, I contend that the better news is that I lost a pound. It seems counter-intuitive to actually lose weight these last few weeks, but it's actually a sign of labor getting close. The baby keeps gaining, but the mom actually loses a pound or two. Small victory...these days, it's all about the small victories.

When I told Thomas the news, his response was "Only nine more centimeters to go." Ha. Easier said than done, Kamas. Unfortunately, there is no schedule, rhyme or reason to how these things go. It could be tonight, it could be two weeks from now. The doctor said the goal for next week is 3cm, but in the same breath she said we could also hope to deliver at 38.5 weeks. News flash - next Tuesday is 38 weeks, 2 days...so apparently she's thinking next Wednesday or Thursday. She also continues to remind me that there is a big baby hanging out in my belly. Trust me - I'm aware. I'm definitely aware at night when I swing the belly back and forth as I toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position to get some sleep. On the rare occasion I can get comfortable, it's usually only 5-10 minutes before I have to get up to go to the bathroom.

I've continued to become more and more uncomfortable. I've figured out a way to arrange the pillows in my bed so that I can continue to type on the computer while lying down...kind of. It works for the first couple of hours, then I have to rearrange. Thomas is absolutely loving the fact that our bedroom is now our office and looks forward to moving the computer and my stacks of paper each night so that he can go to bed. Hehehe...just a little payback for the nine months. Nothing too bad ;)

Celebrities have all decided to give birth this week - Kate Hudson, Jewel, Victoria Beckham. Can't a regular gal catch a break and join the club?

Another Long Night

So it's another long night in preggo-land. I'll be up bright and early at 8am for my official work start, and you think that would make me able to fall asleep at night, but no. Tomorrow I'll be in the same place I am in tonight - exhausted but unable to drift off to dreamland. All the animals are passed out around me and I can hear Thomas snoring in the bedroom...probably all snuggled up with my body pillow. That's okay, I'll steal it away when I finally decide it's worth an attempt at snoozing.

My next doctor's appointment is on Tuesday, and hopefully we will learn that we are making some sort of progress. Today (I'm saying it's Monday since it's past midnight as I write) marks 37 weeks and 1 day, officially full-term. Any thing beyond today is just bonus growth for Liam...and I'm not sure how I feel about him getting "bonus" days. I don't think he needs bonus days. Especially since he's managed to wedge his feet under both sides of my ribs.

I'm finding ways to pass my downtime. I've pretty much surfed the entire internet, I've played hidden object games and word jumbles (I like the one on the Kindle - added bonus is the bright light Thomas has to contend with) and I'm pretty sure I'm now caught up on any TV episode I could ever have wanted to watch. It would be nice if the weather would cooperate for a few days, drop down into the seventies and I could take a nice long walk (with the hope of starting labor), but no such luck. There is no way I'm venturing outside given the current conditions (plus I think my doctor might kill me). The farthest I manage to go is to my parents' house, just a short 3 minute ride from my own house. Every now and then a girl needs a change of scenery.

Liam likes to bounce around at night more so than during the day. Of course my kid will be a night owl - that's only fair since that's how I operate. I've been a night person for as long as I can remember. Honestly, if a "real day" could be from noon to midnight instead of say 8 to 8, I would be in heaven. My body refuses to accept the fact that just because the sun is up, I should be too. I guess that's why they make alarm clocks...you know I'll be needing mine tomorrow.