Introducing Elias Andrew Cox

So Eli is finally here. (By the way, to clear up what is obviously a bit confusing, no - there is not a strange, geographical cluster of children named Elias in my neighborhood. When we decided to name him Elias we figured we'd call him Eli for short. Then I discovered a crapton of kids named Eli, and that's what prompted the earlier posts.) He arrived on January 27th at 7:43 pm weighing a whopping 9lbs, 4 oz and measuring over 22 inches. He's a big guy, but as Andy rightly points out, he kind of needs to be given his brother's temperament. I felt somewhat justified in being as miserable as I was toward the end of the pregnancy when they told me how big he was. At 5'3'' I'm no Amazon. I'm amazed he managed to fit in there for as long as he did.

We arrived home from the hospital today. Unfortunately, I was not successful in bringing Eli into the world in the normal manner, so like his brother before him he was born by C-section. There are several regular readers of this blog who I have not managed to talk to yet, and I'm sure that I'll be asked to explain what happened several times over so I've decided to just put the birth story up here, to avoid the repeated retelling. It's pretty upsetting for me, because I tried really, really hard to avoid a repeat surgical birth. I took a VBAC class, I hired a doula, I dumped my original OB practice and switched to a practice of midwives with a 70-80% success rate with VBAC deliveries, I read every book on the subject I could find....and I still ended up in an OR.

The short version of the story is that I developed a fever after an hour of pushing that kept creeping up, and the midwife and the ob on call began to worry that I had a uterine infection. The fact that my water had been broken for over 12 hours didn't work in my favor. Eli's heartbeat started to react to my elevated temperature, and the OB said that it wouldn't be safe, given that their efforts to bring my fever down had failed, and given that they didn't know for sure if I had an infection or what kind I had and whether or not the baby was currently being exposed to infection, to have him remain undelivered for any more than a half hour. Also, since his heart rate was hitting 190-200during contractions in response to the fever, they were worried that he was becoming distressed. Based on his position - he was in a terrible birth position, face up and with his head cocked to the side - the midwife estimated it would take 2 hours or more of the pushing phase to get him out, and that he was still too high in the birth canal to make a vacuum or forceps delivery possible to comply with the 1/2 hour deadline. The OB told me that in her opinion, there was zero chance of me being able to deliver him within 30 minutes no matter how hard I pushed or what assistance they used, so I agreed to stop trying and I got sent into surgery. The worst part about it was that because this time it was an 'emergency' rather than just a plain old this-labor-isn't-going-anywhere-and-I'm-bored situation, they took Eli immediately up the special care nursery for his antibiotics before I could even hold him. I didn't get him back until almost 8 hours later. With Owen, I got to hold him while they were wheeling me into recovery and start feeding him before they had even taken the spinal out.

Later, after it was over, another one of the midwives in the practice (not the one that was there to deliver me) came to talk about the outcome. I thought that was really nice of them to send her, actually. When they have a failed VBAC, they send someone in to process what happened with you. She went over the whole chart with me, reading the notes entered by the nurses, midwives and doctors. When she got to the note where the doctor wrote that she didn't feel a delivery would be possible, I jokingly asked "and is that the part of the chart where it notes 'patient went psycho?'?" She laughed, but I notice she didn't really say no. I did kind of go a teeny bit psycho when it became obvious that I was not going to be successful. I know there are a lot of people who are mystified by how important it was to me to not have another C-section, and it's hard to really explain why but it just was. Besides my emotional investment in the whole issue, there was the entire problem of caring for a toddler and a newborn after surgery, which is about as bad as I feared it would be. Recovering from a C-section with your first baby sucks, but is ultimately not that bad. Recovering from one when your two year old wants to jump on you, be picked up, run around and play, and needs to be lifted about 50 times a day just to perform essential life functions REALLY sucks.

Ultimately, after 'processing' the whole experience for a few days, I've come to the conclusion that the problem lay in my decision to get the epidural. My research, and input from one of the pediatricians in Owen's doctors' group, indicates that while it's possible that I had a uterine infection (we will never know - both Eli and I were treated immediately with IV antibiotics and they don't bother finding out unless after the 48 hour course of antibiotics there is still presence of infection, at which time they figure out what it is and treat it further) I think it's more likely that the epidural was responsible for raising my body temperature to mimic a fever. And Eli's heartrate was elevated in response to my elevated temperature, not an infection of the amniotic fluid. Had I been able to go without the drugs, I would have a) probably had him much faster and b) probably would have been successful.

I'm dissapointed in myself that I caved and got the drugs (and so quickly, at that. Once my contractions were 2 minutes apart and more than 45 seconds long they said "how do you feel about getting some pain reli..." and I said "NEEDLE. IN MY BACK. DO IT.") I didn't even try to stick it out, really. And to that I have to say that it really was that bad. I'm not sure, that if you put me in that much pain again, right now, and you said that it was a do-over, but that if I accepted pain relief I would end up with a surgery FOR SURE but if I didn't take it I wouldn't have to have one, I'm not sure I would have been able to turn it down, even then. Because in that moment, I couldn't handle it. None of the techniques they went over in any of the two childbirth classes I took, nor the presence of the doula (who was amazing by the way - never go to a birth without one) helped me resist. So am I happy I tried? I don't know. I think I'm too sad about the whole thing to really be happy I tried. Given the outcome, I almost wish I hadn't, because then I maybe wouldn't be so dissapointed.

Ultimately, however, I just need to get over the whole thing. But that's not going to happen today, or frankly probably this year. It's very unlikely that I'll have a third birth experience, and if I do, there's almost a 100% chance it will be a scheduled c-section with no chance of a trial of labor before hand.

Luckily for me, I now have two beautiful and healthy children, so ultimately how they came into the world doesn't matter. And that is the last depressing word I have on the subject. From here forward, nothing but adorable pictures of Owen in his "I'm a big brother' t-shirt holding Eli (who is screaming his head off) for the first time. Stay tuned for those, tomorrow.

false alarm.

Today was just awful. I went to TJMaxx this morning to pick up a spare set of sheets for Owen's bed - having only one set of sheets for a toddler, as we found out at 3am two nights ago, is a poor idea indeed. While I was in the store, I started having contractions, stronger than the ones I've been having all week and slightly closer together. Pleased, I went home and waited a couple hours. The contractions got a little closer together - about 8 minutes apart - and a little stronger, and I started to be pretty uncomfortable. finally! I was sure, being due tomorrow and everything, that I'd be at Newton-Wellesley right now, not sitting on my couch putting up a blog post.

But guess where I am. Yes, sitting on my couch, putting up a blog post.

I had an appointment with the midwife today at 2:30 anyway, so I called the office around noon, told them what was happening, and asked if I should still come in or wait at home for things to pick up. (at this point, I was completely convinced I was actually in labor, to the point where I had called Andy to come home from work, called our doula, and activated the Owen-backup plan). They said come in provided the contraction activity didn't ramp up to the point where I needed to go to the hospital. So in I went, and they put me on the monitor to see what was going on. Things looked promising at first: 'ooh' said the nurse. "Nice contractions right there, you see? looks good." Then the midwife came in and did her exam.

Results: Nada. Zip. Zero progress. Mind you, at this point I had been contracting not only for almost 6 hours, but on and off periodically for the past WEEK. And I am dilated to a....zero. I'm not even at a stage of readiness where I can safely be induced. I could hardly believe it, and the midwife didn't have much comforting to say besides that this sort of thing just happens. The contractions are real, they're just not nescessarily productive. She confirmed my web md self diagnosis of prodromal labor and said not to feel bad, because it can be really hard to tell the difference between prodromal labor and the real thing, but it was a little late to not feel bad. So, with Andy and Owen home in the middle of the day and all systems go for baby having, we...didn't. have a baby, that is.

What we did do was sit around for the rest of the afternoon while I continued to have contractions and cried my eyes out, because the likelihood of me having a baby this weekend now looks pretty low. Or next week, for that matter. They did offer me a c-section, first on Wednesday, and then later in the afternoon the midwife called and said there was an opening on Monday, if I wanted it. I turned it down, because the whole point of this dag pregnancy was to avoid another c-section, but now I'm starting to wonder if I did the right thing. My time off from work is ticking away, and due to the activation of my short term disability already I can't really go back to work on Monday and be all "just kidding! gonna keep working after all. disregard that letter my doctor faxed you last week saying I couldn't anymore." As far as my company is concerned, medical leave is medical leave - they don't care whether the baby has come or not, and I only get so much. Every day I'm out with no baby is a day I can't be with baby.

Basically, we're still waiting. They told me at the appointment today that February 3 is the latest date they're willing to wait - if I'm still pregnant at that point (10 days past my due date) they'll induce if that's possible at that time or do a c-section if it's still not. I don't know what's more depressing: having a c-section two weeks from now when I could have just had one Monday and been done with it, or the thought of still being pregnant in FEBRUARY.

sigh. yep, today was not the greatest of days. and the worst part is, I'm still having the dammned contractions every 15 minutes or so.

maybe tomorrow will be better.

tiiiiiiime....goes by......so slowly........

So, no baby yet. I've spent the week waiting around for contractions to begin, and although they've begun a number of times, they never really get legs. I'll have contractions for say, three hours about 15 minutes apart, but they never get any closer together and they never get any stronger. The internet tells me this is 'prodromal labor'. My own personal term for it isn't polite and shouldn't be put on a family friendly blog.

It strikes me as cosmically unfair that a woman who goes into labor at 37 weeks is considered just as normal as one who goes in to labor at 42 weeks. Friends, that is a 5 WEEK difference. 5 WEEKS. If that doesn't sound absurdly long to you, then I can only conclude you have never been 9 months pregnant. 5 weeks is over a month. 5 weeks might as well be a century. And the really crappy thing is, because you know there are people that have babies at 37 weeks - I personally know three - as soon as you hit that magic milestone you start thinking 'well, maybe I'll go early.' And other women know about the 37 week thing, so they start telling you 'any time now!'. The 'any time now' is particularly galling, because you start to believe it, and then every day is excruciatingly long. While we're on the subject, I swear that if I hear the following one more time I am not responsible for my actions:
"the baby will come when he's ready!" this has to be the number one most annoying thing said to pregnant women, ever. Trust me when I tell you that if you've ever said this, the woman you said it to might have smiled and nodded, but she was secretly thinking "I hate you." And for some reason, people always feel the need to tell you this as if they personally are the keeper of maternity knowledge. As if pregnant women were walking around with the misguided idea that they had some control over when the baby came, or that on the first day of the 40th week a timer would ding and the baby would be delivered fully cooked.

Anyway, there's really nothing to report, other than (as is probably obvious from the above) I'm a bit cranky these days. Hopefully I'll have good news soon, because, you know,

Any time now!

Crafty Mama

Andy has lots of good husband qualities, and one of them is that he is an excellent gift giver. While certainly not a required characteristic when looking for a mate for life, it sure makes things nice. Anyway, one of the things he got me for Christmas (I will note that the other one was a diamond bracelet: I'm sure he wants credit on the internet for that too) was a gift certificate to take a class at a craft store that I am obsessed with called The Stitch House in Dorchester. I know what you're thinking - Dorchester? - yep, Dorchester. Turns out Dorchester is gentrifying fast and the little neighborhood this store is in is full of pricey condos and cute bakeries and boutiques. And also, a super awesome craft store. Anyway, I spend way too much money there on yarn as it is, but they have tons of classes, workshops and clubs that I've never quite made it to. And while I do enjoy knitting a great deal, I don't find it particularly challenging. Knitting projects stop getting more interesting at a certain point and just get bigger. Not that I'm going to stop knitting any time soon, just that recently I've started eyeing new frontiers of different crafts. I've been dying to learn to sew for ages, and even had taken an adult ed class a couple years ago, but Owen kind of derailed my learning endeavor. So to give me something to do while I wait for this baby to arrive, I signed up with my gift certificate to the Saturday Sew Intensive, which meets two Saturdays in a row, 4 hours each. They offer it pretty much every month, and if you're interested I HIGHLY reccommend you go. I'd like to take it again - there were several people in my class today who were taking it for the second or third time. Basically, you pick a pattern and some fabric and bring it, and the instructor helps you figure out what you're doing. In the spirit of being 9 months pregnant, I bought a baby outfit pattern (hat, jacket, pants, booties) and some fleece. I finished the pants and got about 1/2 way through the jacket, leaving the jacket details (side seams, collar, cuffs and hemmed edges) as well as the hat and booties for next Saturday (provided I don't have a baby before then). Look!



I'm pretty excited about it, actually. It was a lot of fun and I learned an amazing amount in 4 hours. I can't wait to try my hand at more projects.

Thanks, Andy :)

Things that make you go hmmmmm....

I saw my midwife yesterday because I mistook back spasms for contractions. This is kind of embarrassing, especially since this isn't my first baby and I've experienced contractions before so you'd think I'd know what they feel like, but I'm not going to beat myself up about it. If you're 35 weeks along and have episodes of severe pain across your lower back that come along every hour or so, you can be forgiven for thinking they are contractions. As it turns out, however, this baby is no closer to the light of day than he was a few days ago, but they were extremely painful. Anyway, the point of the story is that I left the office with a prescription for tylenol with codeine. Right on the prescription it says 'take every 4 hours as needed'. When the midwife suggested it I asked her skeptically if taking codeine was really safe while pregnant (editor's note: I am not actually planning on filling this prescription, assurances of safety or no) and she assured me that there was nothing to worry about.

Now, I'd just like to volunteer that it's a little odd that taking tylenol with codeine every 4 hours as needed is absolutely nothing to worry about, but caffeine, deli meat, soft cheeses and the occasional glass of wine are all on the official pregnancy forbidden list. I mean, really, makes you think twice about declining that turkey sandwich, or second cup of coffee, doesn't it?

Disaster Strikes

First of all, thanks for all your input on my previous post. The decision has been made, the original baby name stands. I appreciated all the considered replies, and think the winning point in its favor was made by Ashley (hi Ash! miss you!) who noted that since it's what I've been thinking of the baby as for all this time, it's going to be really, really hard to completely switch gears and think of him by another name. For better or worse, the baby has been named, so if there are 20 boys with the same name in his 5th grade class....he'll live. Like I said, there were numerous other Jennifers in mine, and I'm not scarred by the experience.

Speaking of the other Cox spawn in the house, I have come to a decision, and that is that never again will I let Owen go on an overnight trip without me until he has reached the age of reason. This past weekend my parents helpfully volunteered to take Owen up to their house for the weekend so we could get the house organized and some essential projects finished before baby comes. That is, it was helpful until he returned home and every stitch of sleep training we have done and all the progress we have made was promptly undone and Owen and I (but not Andy, who somehow has managed to excuse himself from parenting duties that occur between 10pm and 5am) were locked in a battle to the death last night pretty much every hour on the hour from midnight on. It doesn't help that both he and I have developed bad colds, which further disrupted sleep ability. It's no one's fault, but the fact is that Owen is a very, very sensitive kid to changes in his routine and he just can't handle the disruption of us being away from him. This happened when we went to Florida too (only much, much worse - he was a disaster for almost two weeks afterward) and it's just not worth it. This is going to make the having of baby 2 very tricky, as I think for all our sake's, Owen is going to need to stay with a parent. This may mean that Andy doesn't get the full hospital experience this time and instead goes home after the baby is born to stay with Owen. I think that might be the best way.

A rose by any other name?

This blog doesn't usually generate many comments, but I'm actually actively seeking opinions on this one. So if you have one, chime in.

The baby currently still cooking has been named for about 15 weeks now. After a surprising amount of debate, given our very quick selection and approval process with Owen, we picked a name that we thought had a good balance of uncommon and normal. That is to say, it wasn't Joe, but it wasn't Dweezil, either.

This not-too-common name, however, has turned out to be much more Joe-like than we thought. Despite the fact that prior to choosing it I knew only one little boy with this name, I have since met or heard of (through mom friends and friends of mom-friends, or seen written on cubbies at Owen's school) a total of 8 more, just in my reasonably small network alone. I'm starting to feel like now maybe our name is a little overnamed. Not that it's terrible to have a common name, but the whole point was to avoid a situation where what Jennifer is to 1980 my kid's name is to 2010, you know? Then again, I grew up as a Jennifer, and it was fine. I never felt super put out about having a very common name. But, I certainly did wish my name was Katrina for a number of years (number of Jennifers in my graduating 8th grade class: approximately 30. Number of Katrinas: 1). In retrospect, I suppose I am now glad my name isn't Katrina, but that's neither here nor there.

Anyway, without writing the name (although I am aware there are some readers who already know it), what do you think? Go with what is turning out to be a very popular name, because it was our first choice and we like it? Or go back to the drawing board and come up with another name that is normal, but a little more unique? 2 or 3 years ago when 1 in 3 girls were being named Madison I remember wondering what all those parents were thinking. Now I feel like we're in the same boat. The reason I'm not sharing the actual name is because it's not about the name, its about the relative popularity of the name. Meaning, I'm looking for objective opinions.

If we like the name, does it matter if it's really common? Or is it better to avoid the trendy names, and go with something a little more classic?