Things They Don't Tell You About the Early Post-Partum Period

Everyone talks about the sleep deprivation -- and seemingly only about the sleep deprivation (and maybe the baby blues).  I know it's only been eight days, but here are some of the things that I'm surprised no one told me about the early post-partum period.

1.  The pain. Oh, the paaaaaaain.  I have been hurting in so many parts of my body, I forget about some because they are overtaken by the others.  Where to begin?  The worst offender is the episiotomy site, which constantly hurts and makes sitting, rising, standing, walking, and everything except sleeping really difficult.  It's still bleeding, and it HURTS.  Then there's the breastfeeding equipment...au naturale, and constantly sore -- especially in the early days when I had blisters and blood coming out of them. :(  Then there is the epidural site in my back, the three-inch long heplock bruise, and the tetanus shot in my left arm.  Oh, and my tailbone is really sore, apparently from all the pushing.  How come no one talks about the pain in the early post-partum days? I wasn't expecting to be hobbling around gingerly and cringing constantly in these early days.  Post-partum should come with a pain warning label.

2.  The sleep deprivation isn't that bad.  Especially with a good partnership going on... splitting the tasks of feeding and caring for a fussy baby enable both parents to get okay amounts of sleep throughout the day.  I'm clocking in at 4.5-5.5 hours a day, and Mr. Squire gets 5-7 I think.  Of course...we are lucky, given our work arrangements, so I am very thankful for that.

3.  The beauty of seeing God's design in the human body unfold day after day.  In these early post-partum days, especially if you are breastfeeding, you get to witness the amazing wonder that is God's design in the human body and development of milk supply to feed a new child (i.e. colostrum and drop in weight, development of hunger in the nursing child to create extra demand as milk comes in, the incredible benefits of breastmilk and ability to rely on it exclusively, the demand/supply cycle, etc).  It is quite incredible how God equipped an intricate system to provide the baby exactly what she needs at each stage of the newborn phase.

4.  The sense of accomplishment that accompanies each new lesson learned.  It's been a steep learning curve these last eight days -- complete with changing more than 40 diapers, doing more than 50 feedings, and learning how to hold, comfort, calm, and understand this little creature.  But we are getting better at it, day by day. And every time I successfully put her down to sleep at night, I feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment.  Wasn't expecting that.

5.  The joy!  This came as a special surprise to me, given my reservations about my maternal instincts. There are some times when I hold our baby girl and I feel that I love her so much it hurts.  What the--??  It is a privilege to be her parent.  I love her and am excited to raise her with Mr. Squire (who is an amazing dad already).  Junior, you bring us joy -- even when you are screaming your head off (like right now).  We are so thankful for you.

Your Journey Here

Hi Junior,

Right now you're asleep in the bassinet in our room, snoozing away until your next feeding at 10pm.  You're sleep-inverted, which means our nights are your days--and Daddy doesn't get a whole lot of sleep at night.  You are almost an entire week old now.

One day you may wonder about the events leading to your arrival in this world.  We waited more than a week past your due date to meet you, and grew increasingly worried that we would have to induce you.  Lots of people recommended that I go on long walks, but the problem is that throughout my pregnancy--all the way to week 41--I walked at least 3 miles per day, every day.  So additional long walks weren't going to do a whole lot.  We tried accupressure, and I tend to think that my hour at the Chinese massage place is probably what provoked your ultimate journey out of the womb.

I started feeling contractions during the early morning hours on Monday, but ignored them in favor of falling back asleep, knowing that I would need as much sleep as possible if they were real contractions.  Finally, around 9am, I couldn't ignore the contractions anymore.  I started timing them as I hit the gym one last time.  It's at the gym that I realized that this was the real deal -- when the contractions hit, I couldn't focus on anything, much less staying on the treadmill.  I crawled my way through a pitiful 2-mile workout, and headed back home.  

There was not much to do except pass the time (and do lots of Google research as different things were happening), so Mr. Squire and I hit the grocery store and bought ingredients for potato and leek soup so we could try out our new immersion blender. As I hobbled through the grocery store during contractions, it occurred to me that maybe trying a new recipe was kind of an ambitious project for early labor.  

But we did it anyway (and the soup was very good). We spent the afternoon distracting ourselves with Friday Night Lights, but come early evening I couldn't focus on much of anything anymore.  We went out for a walk by the river, but I ended up keeling over or hanging desperately onto Mr. Squire every 4 or 5 minutes. Undoubtedly, the passersby had questions.  But by then I was already in "I don't care" mode.

I continued to labor at home until 1am on Tuesday, at which time we finally headed to the hospital because I just couldn't stand the pain anymore and my contractions were finally 3-4 minutes apart.  I closed my eyes when I gingerly clambered into the cab, and did not open my eyes again for another 3 hours.  

During those three hours, the cab driver sped us through the Lincoln Tunnel at 50 mph, we made it through triage (although the triage lady totally rammed my birthing ball into me WHILE I was experiencing a contraction, which made me burst into tears for the first time), I found out that I had dilated to 7cm, and decided to get an epidural upon learning that I had another several hours to go.  By then, I had labored for at least 19 hours, and I knew that if I didn't get pain management, I wouldn't have anything left to push at the end.  The epidural was its own nightmare -- I was shivering madly because of the labor, and I continued to experience 60-90 second contractions every 3 minutes, and they had to do the epidural twice because there were problems with the first administration.  

Finally, at 4am, when the epidural kicked in, I opened my eyes for the first time since leaving home.  The sudden absence of contractions was such a relief, and I actually cracked a couple jokes with the nurses who were in the room (whose voices I had heard but whose faces I had not yet seen).  I was still shivering like crazy, though, so Mr. Squire climbed into bed with me and we slept on and off for a couple hours.

Around 9am, it was finally time to push.  This was the part that surprised me the most -- how uneventful the pushing phase is compared to what I've seen on television.  Within 40 minutes, you were here.  And...life hasn't been the same ever since.  We're so delighted with you!

Love,

Mommy

Unexpected Gifts

Dear Junior,

So... turns out that doctor was wrong... you didn't come this weekend!  I am thankful that you weren't a Halloween baby, and I'm thankful that you weren't born on marathon Sunday, because traffic would have been tough.  And now you are more than one day late.  I think you should aim to come out either on your daddy's birthday or before.  Any later, and I might start handing out eviction notices because sleeping is getting to be a real chore.  :)

Over the last few days, your grandma has been in town to visit.  She'd been hoping to meet you, but she leaves tomorrow and you still have not made any indications that you're coming out.  Secretly, I think we are all thankful:  by staying put, you have given us extra time together with my mom--and I actually think that was more important than her meeting you at this time.  God knows best, and I think your inertia has given us some very good, unexpected gifts.

In the last few days, we've been able to show your grandma what our life is like here in New York/New Jersey... the amazing church community and family you're being born into, and all the loving aunties and uncles who are excited for your imminent arrival... the bright, airy, and comforting home that your parents have been blessed with (and that they've gotten to get ready in the post-bedbug era)... the conveniences of Hmart, Costco, and A&P across the street (not to mention the joys of Mitsuwa just four miles down)... and she also got to experience our rich and beautiful life in Brooklyn yesterday with our all-day tour, including dim sum in Brooklyn Chinatown, Bien Cuit, the butcher shop, Sahadi's, the Korean grocery store, a visit with my judge, Jack the Horse, and wonderful visits with our old neighbors -- Wes and Diane, and Calvin, Lisette, Elijah and Zuri.

She leaves tomorrow.  Who knows when you will come out. But thanks for staying put for a bit -- this has been good for all of us.  You'll meet your grandma soon enough; we all needed this.

J is for Jellyfish (and Junior)

Hi Junior,

Guess what? Auntie Kim, Uncle Gugs, and Allison sent you a very special gift last weekend:  an ergo so that we can carry you everywhere, parenting CDs so that we can get some advice on raising you up in the Lord, and this -- your most beautiful possession.  Auntie Kim must really love you -- and us.  The amount of time and effort it took to create this absolute work of art is amazing (remember that she sewed every single eyeball, mane, hoof, and squiggle!).

Our doctors seem to think that, given your position, you will arrive this weekend.  I started getting some contractions today -- but I guess they were false contractions?  Try not to be a Halloween baby and stay inside until November.  Halloween is a creepy holiday.  And it would be nice for you and your dad to share a birthday month!  

We're waiting patiently for you, although at night, I become less patient because sleep is really hard and really painful these days.  It's not your fault, don't worry.  And the days are numbered!  Woohoo!  We are so thankful to have gotten to this day with you -- and with your three other cousins who are due right about now too (although they are all second children - you're the only firstborn in this week's wave).  

See you soon, Junior. 

Love,

Mommy (and Daddy)

P.S.  I was watching Daddy play with your cousin Aidan today at the basketball court.  He is such a good teacher, and he is going to be such a good dad.  You are lucky, lucky, lucky.

39 weeks

Hi Junior,

Here we are at 39 weeks and 1 day.  You're moving around a lot these days, sometimes sticking your little feet in my ribs (yes, that's me pushing your foot back and your dad flicking you in return) and last night I swear I felt your little fist against my hand.  Pretty cool.  I guess it will be even cooler when we actually see your little fists in person!

I worked from home today and did your first load of laundry.  You inherited four huge garbage bags full of clothes from your older sisters at church, and we've sorted them all from newborn to 24 months.  These newborn clothes are SO. SMALL.  I keep looking at them and thinking -- how does a person fit into this? Surely she can't be that small.  Guess we'll find out soon enough.

We're just waiting for you to arrive... our hospital bags are packed, your daddy is still working on reading his "Heading Home With Your Newborn" book, and I find myself trolling the internet for advice on breastfeeding and changing diapers.  Your aunties at church have also been giving us a lot of helpful advice, which has been helpful.  But I cannot help but think that we've just got to go through it with you to really know how everything works.  I'm really nervous about that, because it's really hard to prepare for--and I don't like being unprepared (you will eventually learn that at some point in your life).  But I guess I am also learning to chill out a bit and kind of go with the flow, too.  You can't prepare for everything.

In other news, your mom is making waves at work by taking a deposition this Thursday, next Monday (your due date) and next Tuesday -- assuming you remain in utero and she remains able to handle this stuff.  Most people's eyes get really wide and they start to look very concerned when they hear about this.  I guess, in a way, I also was not expecting work to be this intense, this close to your arrival.  But I want maternity leave to be with you as long as possible, so... I'll keep going. It's not so bad.  Some days are harder than others, but overall -- months 7 and 8 were the absolute worst, and nothing could be harder than those were, even with the perpetual aches and pains that come with late third-trimester pregnancy.

In still other news, I hope I didn't confuse you too much with what I've been feeding you.  Your mom loves carbs.  Loves them.  And was merrily feeding you lots of them until week 36 or so, when your doctor said she should probably stop eating carbs.  "Chicken, fish, and vegetables," she said.  :-p  Boooo.  So that explains why over the last 3-4 weeks, you've been consuming lots of cheese, chicken, kale salad, greens, lentils, honeycrisp apples (lucky you!), greek yogurt, and blueberries.  Hope you're not too confused.  But truth be told, this is probably good for you.  (And it's been good for me, as it has kept my weight gain steady at 28-30 pounds.)  

Anyway, anytime you want to come out, just start doing your thing.  We're as ready as we'll ever be, and 39 weeks in -- I'm finally ready to meet you.  Your dad's been ready for a while.  And you have lots of aunties and uncles and cousins at church and in your parents' community who are really excited to meet you and have been praying for you for many months now.  You are already blessed -- try not to forget it.

Love,

Mommy

P.S. I've been doing a good job of not co-opting your stuffed animals.  Your dad didn't think I could -- but I've been really good!

Pecans and Shards of Glass

They say that marriage is (supposed to be) a microcosm of the relationship the Church shares with Christ.  In general, I feel that that is true.  Today, I felt it was particularly true.

Besides the fact that general life functions (sleeping, walking, getting dressed, breathing, eating, going to the bathroom) are more difficult now in the late third trimester, I am also very, very clumsy.  I find it funny that a hormone called relaxin is partially responsible for all my bumps, bruises, and butterfingers.  But this morning, I was not laughing about the fact that I shattered a mason jar of pecans while trying to screw the lid back on.  I still have no idea how that happened.

But one second, I was shaking toasted pecans onto my greek yogurt and frozen blueberries (my new breakfast owing to the low-carb diet I've been placed on), and the next, I had glass shards and pecans strewn across our counter, the stove, and the kitchen floor.  Mr. Squire spotted some glass in my yogurt, so I had to discard it.  And then I started to clean up, but Mr. Squire shooed me out of the kitchen and cleaned up everything himself.  Partly because he didn't want me to get hurt... partly because it's just who he is.  He cleans up my messes.  (See, e.g., the time I spilled an entire smoothie in the refrigerator in our Brooklyn apartment.)  Without complaint, and without reprisal.

I felt bad.  I always feel bad when he cleans up my messes.  I especially feel bad when I create messes involving glass that could injure him in the cleanup process.  

At the same time, I felt blessed.  I always feel grace most strongly when he does things like this--when instead of expressing frustration at my clumsiness and the interruption to his own breakfast routine, he just picks up the pieces and cleans everything up to where you can't even tell anything happened in the first place.

As he was cleaning up my mess, I skulked over to my exercise ball with a KIND bar and a cup of milk to read my Bible passage for the day.  John 19.  About Christ's crucifixion.  How appropriate.  On the cross, Jesus cleaned up endless spilled pecans and glass shards in the sins of my life.  He is still cleaning them up... without complaint, and without reprisal -- just love.  I feel bad, because I've created so many messes.  And will create a bunch more in my lifetime.  And He will be cleaning all of them up, to where you can't even tell anything happened in the first place.  I get to live in a state of forgiveness because He did that.  

At the same time, I feel blessed.  Grace is a blessing.  The receipt of gifts that are unmerited put a special ring of love around your heart and soul...makes you want to share with others.

Fwd: Dear Junior

Hi there,

You're due to arrive in just over two weeks now.  We made it this far together, by a lot of grace and provision from God and lots of hand-holding from your dad and our church community.  These days, you are super-active, even trading your usual gentle gymnastics for a couple boxing punches.  Thanks for letting me know that you're alive and probably healthy.

Over the last 37 weeks, we've been through a lot together.  Looking back, it's been quite a journey.  You started with us in Brooklyn and moved to Jersey (but will probably be born in Manhattan).  You traveled to California and were around (though we didn't know it) when we visited your great-grandfather and your grandpa's entire side of the family back in March.  Your great-grandfather passed away just a couple months ago, so you were very lucky.  You were discovered jointly by your mom and one of your mom's dearest friends on that same trip, so you've *kind of* met Auntie C.  Well, very kind of.  

You traveled to Richmond a couple times and kept Mommy company as she took and defended her first depositions and spent the first eight months of your life preparing for a trial.  You survived the bedbug saga, fortunately shielded by your cozy little (not-so-little!) placenta.  You were along for the ride as your parents set up their new home (again) and got things ready for your arrival.  And you ended up getting a baby shower after all.  Lucky you--so, so SO many aunties and uncles and cousins ready to meet and love you.  All kids should have it so good.  And now you are gearing up to make your appearance. 

I freely admit that I am not really ready to be a parent.  I'm not sure I ever will be.  But God's been helping me and I know He will continue to help us all as we all get to know each other and become a family.

Here are some thoughts I have as I consider your arrival (in no particular order):

• If there's only one thing I can pass on to you, I want it to be the central truth of life -- the truth about who brought you here, who created you, who loves you most of all, who defines love in the first place, who ought to be your only hope and reason in this life.  I want to teach and show you this truth in a manner in which you will understand.  And I hope and pray (and have been praying) that you will come to acknowledge, accept, and adopt this truth, and live by it throughout your days, however few or many they may be.

• I hope you dream.  And I hope you dream the dreams that God gives you -- not dreams I have for you.  I don't really dream for you right now, and I hope to keep it that way.  Your dreams should be God-given, not parent-given.  And your dad and I have been praying that we will give you freedom and encourage you to become exactly who your Heavenly Father wants you to be.

• Your dad is really incredible.  He is super-fun, super-funny, teachable, humble, loyal, servant-hearted, quick to apologize, highly intelligent, witty, thoughtful, oddly sentimental, laid-back (for most things) but principled (in the most important things), wise, and overwhelmingly patient--especially with me (which is not easy to do).  Like...you really won the lottery (as did I).  I hope you see it that way.  And I hope you and he have many, many years together, and that as you grow older, you come to appreciate all the wonderful things about him. 

• We're not going to be perfect parents.  That frightens me, because I kind of like to do things as close to perfectly as possible.  I will try my best not to impose my perfectionism on you, and not to expect perfection from you -- especially as you grow up.  I hope you will find grace for us because we are definitely going to mess up from time to time...and not even know it.  I'm not looking forward to messing up, but I know it will happen.  I'm really sorry!

• The stuffed animal thing... I guess there's a small chance you may never know what I'm talking about.  But in all likelihood, you'll one day find out about your mother and her stuffies, and I'm not sure what you're going to think.  You probably won't be as merciful as your dad, and I wouldn't blame you.  But know that they were kind of like practice children for me (I know it sounds bizarre), and they helped me through a lot of things.  So if you can imagine a more neurotic, less-well-adjusted version of your mom -- that's who I would have been if it weren't for the stuffies.  So... in a way, I hope you will be grateful for them.

• I'm excited to meet you.  I have no sense of who you are going to grow up to be, but I am eager to find out, and I'm here to help you.  Your dad and I want to help love you into the person that God intended you to be.  We look forward to meeting you in a couple days (or weeks).  Welcome to our little family!