MAMA INSIDER:
Laughing (and
Sometimes Crying) All the Way Through
Pregnancy, Birth, and the
First 3 Months
an e-book by Abigail Green
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Abigail Green at Smashwords
MAMA INSIDER
Copyright 2011 by
Abigail Green
All Rights Reserved
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The Wacky World of Childbirth Preparation
Birth Story: Better Late Than Never
New Moms’ Frequently Asked Questions
Firsts for New Moms (And We’re Not Talking Teeth)
It’s All Coming Back Now … Grandparents Before & After
How to Lose the Baby Weight (And Possibly Your Hair)
Must Love Milk: Making New-Mom Friends
You Will Sleep Again … Someday
Sleep Glossary: From Nap Trap to Sleep Slut
What Would You Do? Nervous vs. Mellow Moms
The 7 Stages of an Adults-Only Getaway
How Does She Do It? No, Really. How?
I really thought I was prepared to have my first baby. I’d read some books and blogs, seen some movies and reality shows. Heaven knows I’d been to enough baby showers. I thought I knew the drill. Yet I was still surprised by so much of what I experienced during pregnancy, birth, and my first 3 months as a new mom.
For instance, no one told me that I might get pregnant and not realize it till I was already on my way to a booze-fueled girls’ weekend. Or that there are other insidious symptoms besides morning sickness. (The dreaded Pregnancy Butt comes to mind. See “Pregnancy Is Not for the Weak.) Or that birthing classes can involve ocean sounds and colorful hand-knit models of the placenta. (Or was that just mine?)
Even though every new mom knows she’s not the first person in the world to give birth, it sure can feel that way when you’re going through it. Your pregnancy cravings are the weirdest you’ve heard of. Your labor was the longest. Your husband is the most clueless. And, of course, your baby is the cutest. But what is UP with all the spitting up and the not-sleeping?!
So from one (formerly) new mom to another, I’m gonna give it to you straight about pregnancy, birth, and the first 3 months of motherhood—the good, the bad, and the funny. I’ll tell you why you shouldn’t freak out about those sonogram pictures, what labor and delivery are really like, and how real moms lose the baby weight (hint: it’s not salad and Pilates). I’ll share my hard-earned wisdom on such topics as dealing with grandparents, making new-mom friends, and that first adults-only getaway after the baby is born. And I’ll regale you with be-glad-you’re-not-me tales like the projectile poop incident and the time my husband unplugged a freezer full of breastmilk.
Listen up new moms and moms-to-be: You are not alone. You are not crazy. And you are going to do just fine. The proof that other moms have been through it and survived is in this e-book.
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Congratulations, you’re pregnant! Whether you were actively trying or passively not trying to avoid it, you did it! In about 9 or 10 months—after you’ve mastered confusing “pregnancy math” which involves counting backwards and in weeks instead of months—you will have a baby.
Are you a) thrilled, b) terrified, c) a little of both? Relax. However you responded, it’s perfectly normal. In fact, remember that—not only for the next 9 months, but once the baby arrives as well. Almost every time I would go to my ob/gyn or pediatrician with some weird issue, they’d explain it away by saying, “Oh, that’s normal for a pregnant woman/new mom/new baby.” If you say so…
Pregnancy and new motherhood is one wild and wacky ride. Now, I’m the type of person who likes to laugh at life. Especially the weird-but-true parts. And there’s nothing weirder than your previously normal body morphing into gigantic proportions while you grow a whole new wiggly little person inside of it. Natural? Beautiful? It’s just plain bizarre, is what it is! Of course, it’s also wonderful and fascinating and hilarious, as you will soon find out.
My first clue that you need a sense of humor to survive pregnancy was when I discovered that I was expecting my first baby—way past the time a normal person would have already noticed. I know women are supposed to keep track of these things, but what can I say? I was busy. Specifically, busy planning a girls’ weekend with some friends who enjoy their cocktails, if you know what I mean. There was a microbrewery, a wine tasting, and a tour of a sake factory on the itinerary. Oh, and daily visits to the city’s best coffee shops.
The fact that I was getting queasy at the mere smell of coffee and couldn’t go two hours without eating at that point should’ve been a clue that something was up. But it wasn’t until I confirmed it by peeing on a stick that I realized I was pregnant. And even then, I didn’t truly believe there was a baby in there till I saw that fuzzy little jelly bean at my first sonogram.
Because I am a frugal person (some might say cheap), I passed up the fancy home pregnancy tests and went with the buy-one-get-one-free store brand for $8.99. Why pay through the nose for a stick you’re going to pee on and toss in the trash? And this way, at least I’d have a spare on hand for when we really started trying, right?
Wouldn’t you know it, the teenage checkout girl at the drugstore that night was not aware of the buy-one-get-one-free promotion. She called for a price check. Loudly. I squirmed and made sure my wedding band was visible beyond the sleeve of my husband’s oversized college sweatshirt. I’m trying to get pregnant, OK, people behind me in line? Or at least not not trying.
My husband looked mildly surprised when I arrived home with my purchase. When I came out of the bathroom, I set the kitchen timer for three minutes. He continued to watch TV, like it was no big deal we might soon be playing lead roles in the miracle of life. The timer beeped. In spite of all the clues, it was still a huge surprise—no, shock—to see that double line. Of course, I immediately re-read the directions on the box and took the second test. I even considered going back to the store for the name-brand test. But the evidence was clear: I was pregnant.
Suddenly, my heart was pounding. My mouth was dry. My eyes grew wide. I showed both sticks to my husband. We were having A BABY. “Wow, congratulations, hon!” he said, in the same tone one might use to praise someone who’d gotten a sizeable tax return. And just like that, we were on our way to becoming first-time parents.
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The Wacky World of Childbirth Preparation
It all started during my first prenatal visit. My ob/gyn looked at my chart, saw that I was a vegetarian and did yoga, and said, “You might do well with HypnoBirthing.” Hypno-what?! I thought. She explained that it was a method of childbirth preparation, like Lamaze or Bradley.
And that’s how, with visions of patchouli and Birkenstocks dancing in our heads, my perfectly normal husband and I found ourselves in somebody’s living room practicing massage techniques and visualization, listening to nature sounds, and learning a whole new vocabulary. Instead of contractions, HypnoBirthing refers to “waves of energy.” Your water doesn’t break; your “membranes rupture.” It’s a kinder, gentler approach to birth, we learned.
The HypnoBirthing instructor mentioned that our hospital provided a doula to any expectant mom who wanted one. “Doula” is one of those words I had never heard before I got pregnant—like “vernix,” which I learned is what the cheesy white stuff coating the baby’s skin after birth is called. Huh. Anyway, a doula is basically a birth coach.
You may be asking, “But isn’t that what my husband’s for?” Silly girl. Has your husband ever given birth before? Has he been trained to assist with the often complicated and emotional birthing process? Then how can you expect him to have any better sense of how it works than you do? Mine can’t even make it past the first chapter of the birth books. Besides knowing what they’re doing—ideally by both attending births and having given birth themselves—doulas are also there to support you emotionally and physically. They will fetch you ice chips and rub your back. When I ask my husband for a backrub, he half-heartedly attempts a “massage” that mimics someone scratching a dog’s ears. It’s over in minutes and he usually keeps one hand on the remote.
The doula I select, “Margo,” looks about my age and has three kids. She has a pleasant, laid-back demeanor. When we meet, she casually nurses her 1-year-old while we talk. She looks like she knows what she’s doing. Hopefully, she gives a decent back rub.
Just to make sure we had all our bases covered, I also signed us up for a 7-hour childbirth preparation seminar at our hospital. As you can imagine, my husband was thrilled. By the end of the day, we were reeling from the information overload on everything from breathing techniques to labor terminology to medical interventions. Who knew there was so much to know about having a baby?
Some of it I wish I didn’t know. Like I really didn’t need to visualize the 10 cm my cervix will dilate in order to give birth. That’s roughly the circumference of a CD, in case you’re wondering. And I could have done without the full-color cloth model of the placenta that the instructor demonstrated delivering. (It looked like a jellyfish, if you ask me.) And the model of the uterus? That resembled a misshapen, striped knit sock. Not sure how anatomically correct that was.
By the time they got to the videos of epidurals and C-sections, I was ready to call it quits. A lot of moms-to-be I met had very strong opinions about what kind of birth they were going to have. They generally fell into one of two camps: those who wanted a natural birth and those who wanted an epidural the moment they pulled into the hospital parking lot.
Never having done this before, I hate to go into the delivery room with strict rules about what I definitely will and definitely won’t do. I just like the idea of the kinder, gentler, more natural birth they talked about in my HypnoBirthing class. “Your body knows what to do,” was the constant refrain. I sure hope so, because thanks to the packets of handouts, stacks of books, and reams of notes I’ve accumulated, my mind has pretty much shut down.
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In Tori Spelling’s book, Mommywood, she describes the experience of getting her first sonogram when she was pregnant with her son. She’s thrilled that he looks healthy, of course, but she’s alarmed by the size of the baby’s nose. Lest she seem superficial (A celebrity? Superficial?!) she keeps her worries to herself. Until later, when she confesses to a girlfriend who reassures her it’s a normal reaction. Ha!
Even for us non-Hollywood types who haven’t gotten nose jobs, I can relate. I had the same thoughts when I saw my son’s prenatal pics. Those lips! That nose! Poor kid. I imagined years of schoolyard taunting and therapy in his future. Then he was born, and once the puffiness went down, he was adorable.
Those sonogram technicians could use some sensitivity training, though. The first one we got was, inexplicably, not quite as enthusiastic as we were. Can you imagine? Did she think, “You’ve seen one unborn baby, you’ve seen them all?” Or, “Oh, look, the miracle of life. Yawn. Now what I should have for lunch?”
The second time, the sonogram tech disparaged our baby name. The nerve! Didn’t she know you don’t mess with a bloated, hormonal woman who’s obsessed with the Social Security baby name database? (Tip: Unless you are very, very confident with your choice, I’d suggest not sharing your child’s name until the baby’s born. Because everyone’s got an opinion. My mom audibly snorted when we told her one name we were considering … and then made it worse by trying to pretend she didn’t!)
The worst, though, was the sonogram I got at 41 weeks pregnant. By that time, the baby was packed in there like 10 lbs. of potatoes in a 5-lb. sack. And he did look very well-fed. But still. The nurse actually laughed out loud and said, “The baby looks mad. Look at that scrunched-up face and those chubby cheeks! It looks like it’s storing up nuts for winter!” She continued laughing way past the point that it was appropriate. How dare she imply that our baby was funny-looking! Even though I did have to admit, that fat little mad face was pretty comical.