Jude's Birth

Jude is now one week old and he's a good little boy. Here is how he came to us.

I woke up on November 19 around 7 am. My first sensation was that I was a little damp. I laid there for a minute or two trying to figure that out. I thought, "What is this... am I peeing?" After investigating I found a softball-sized wet spot on the sheet. I heard Jono getting ready to leave for work so I called his name. "Jono. Come here a minute. I'm wet." He came into the bedroom wide-eyed. "I think maybe my water broke," I said. My doctor had told me that one way to tell if you're leaking amniotic fluid is by its smell. It smelled sweet, which is how she had described it. I had also heard that some women gush when their water breaks and others trickle. Apparently I was a trickler.

We started getting excited and decided we should call the doctor in an hour if contractions hadn't started. Meanwhile we started packing our bags for the hospital. I felt very calm while this was happening, not wanting to jump ahead of myself. Maybe today was the day and maybe it wasn't -- I didn't know. At 8:30 I called the doctor's office and told the nurse what I thought had happened. She told us to come in at 10:00 so they could check me out.

We took the dog for a walk, packed the car, drove to Joel and Jessie's to drop off a key to our house so they could pick up Mona later, and stopped at The Schnitz for breakfast. We weren't in a huge hurry. Still no contractions.

By the time we arrived at the doctor's office, I noticed my trickle was turning into more of a gush. On the examining table the doctor knew my water had broke before she tested the fluid, but she held up the little blue strip of paper for me that confirmed it. She asked if we had our bags ready for a hospital stay and told us we should head in that direction.

We drove down to St. Mary's and headed to the ninth floor. They checked us in to a labor and delivery room at around 11 am. I put on one of those super-attractive hospital mu-mus and socks with the grippies on the bottom.

Then we waited.

We were told that if I didn't go into labor soon they would have to induce me because of the risk of infection. Once your water breaks the only barrier between your baby and the outside world has been removed. I was nervous about this possibility because it would increase my chances of having to take pain medication. Induction of labor makes contractions come fast and intense.

A nurse suggested I get into the whirlpool tub to try and get things going. I did, but half an hour later there was still nothing. We did a few laps in the hallways. By early afternoon my mom showed up and we sat around talking for awhile. They hooked me up to a machine that would monitor both my contractions and the baby's heartbeat. I was having small contractions once in awhile, but nothing to write home about. They were sporadic and I could easily carry on a conversation right through them. They told me my doctor had contacted someone who could administer Pitocin, a labor-inducing drug.

By mid-afternoon my dad came and the four of us sat around while the nurses went in and out checking my progress. My parents went to the cafeteria around 5pm to get Jono something to eat. While they were gone a contraction came that I actually needed to breathe deeply through. When my parents came back with Jono's food they said I had a look on my face that told them what was happening, so they headed to the waiting room. Jono's parents showed up soon after that and joined them there. They ended up spending a very long time in that little room and got into some shenanigans to keep themselves entertained (including disappearing from the room while my mom was in the bathroom so she would think the baby had been born and they'd left her behind. I'm told the look on her face was priceless.)

Meanwhile my contractions became stronger and more regular. For the next few hours I breathed through them and tried different labor positions while Jono rubbed my back and held my hand. I was back in the whirlpool once, on and off the bed, and I sat on the "birthing ball" for awhile. This stage is already foggy for me because of what came later.

At one point they came in to check my cervix and after hours of labor I was only 3-4 cm dilated. In came the on-call doctor. He said if I hadn't dilated further in the next 45 minutes they "strongly recommended" I be induced. We agreed because of the infection risk if labor took too long, and also I was already getting tired from the contractions and couldn't imagine having to go all night with them. About an hour later they checked me again and I'd gotten to 6/7 cm. My nurse and the doctor looked happy - I wouldn't need the Pitocin.

By now I was mainly focused on getting through contractions and didn't care who came in the room or what they were saying. I hardly had time to listen to a string of sentences from someone before another one would come. The breathing techniques were still helping and Jono was feeding me ice chips, but there were a few in there that I was pretty much whimpering through. I asked my nurse, "I don't want to commit to anything and I don't want an epidural, but do you having anything to take the edge off?" She explained my options, saying that both drugs would also go to the baby and make him lethargic. In childbirth class we learned that a lethargic baby is often given another drug after birth - a stimulant to help wake him up. I didn't like that in his last moments in the womb and first moments in the world he would be pumped up with drugs, so I decided not to take them.

Shortly after that a big whopping contraction took hold of me and I started having thoughts like, "Okay, who in their right MIND does this without an epidural?!" But I'd made my decision and wasn't going back on it. Plus labor was progressing so fast now that I doubt they would've had time to give me anything.

I'd confined myself to the bed at this point because I needed to lie down and rest between each contraction. When one would come I would turn on my side and hold on for dear life to the side-rail on the bed. I remember going into a trance between them. I was having strange dream-like thoughts, like wishing I was everyone else in the room. I thought, "I know that nurse has crappy hours and has to work the night shift, but I'd give anything to just be her right now." Even before the pushing phase started I was exhausted. I kept my eyes closed because it helped me focus. When I'd feel one start to build I would grab Jono's hand, arm or neck and hold on tight. The ice chips were fantastic - the crunching sensation plus the cold liquid going down my throat were a huge relief. Jono had a cup full of them in his hand and he would spoon-feed me a cube immediately after a contraction would pass. Jono was such a good birthing coach. He kept telling me that I could do it, I was doing great, and I was his hero. He let me pull his hair.

Eventually, of course, I felt like pushing. I told my nurse and she and my doctor came in with the delivery table. Then the show really started. I was relieved to be able to push because it helped lessen the pressure from the contraction. They say the pushing phase is two steps forward, one step back, which gets discouraging when you feel like you're pushing your insides out. Which you are.

An hour later he still wasn't out. I would push and the doctor and nurse would say, "Good, good, good! That's exactly it!" But then he wouldn't come out. The pressure in my pelvis was enormous, and it was now accompanied by a strong burning sensation. I was feeling like it would never happen. I was convinced they would have to do an emergency c-section or get him out with forceps. I wondered what they would have to do to me if he just didn't come out... ever.

We decided to try the squatting bar, so they brought it in and put it over the bed. I used it through the next couple of contractions, but it took too much of my energy to get up each time to grab the bar and then lie back down again once it has passed. The doctor suggested I brace my legs on the bar instead. This helped, but still wasn't enough. Then my nurse, God bless her, said she had an idea that had worked for a lot of women. She grabbed a towel and stood at the end of the bed. When my next contraction came I braced my legs on the bar and grabbed the other end. The nurse and I then played tug-of-war with the towel while I pushed. I could tell this was working and I felt slightly encouraged. They told me they could see his head and asked if I wanted to touch it. I reached down half-heartedly. I was glad his head was there, but until it came all the way out I wasn't going to count on anything.

The pinnacle moment (pain-wise) came when he crowned during one contraction, but then it faded off before I could get him out. I was beside myself. Jono told me later I was thrashing on the bed and looking at him like, "DO SOMETHING." They told me his hand was up by his face and he was slightly twisted. Jono looked down and saw his little hand before anything else. He started saying "There he is Em, he's almost here!" over and over.

When the final contraction came I remember screaming and pushing with what seemed like the last bit of energy I would ever have for the rest of my life. Jono was giddy, I was in another world. I could tell when his head had come out and then his body. The doctor lifted him up and put him on my stomach. I couldn't believe it. There he was. His eyes were wide open and he was looking at me. It was the most unbelievable thing I've ever seen to have that little baby lifted onto me like that with his almond-shaped eyes wide open and his umbilical cord still attached. I quickly looked between his legs to make sure the ultrasound had been right (I was a little paranoid about this near the end of the pregnancy). Jono cut the cord. I felt like I was coming out of a fog. He cried a little bit and I nursed him for the first time.

The doctor delivered the placenta then and showed it to us. She described what everything was and how it had nourished little Jude. I had thought I would be really grossed out by this but I wasn't at all. She could've been holding up a new puppy and describing it to us instead of a placenta and I would've felt no different about it.

They took him off of my chest to weigh and measure him. Then they wrapped him a blanket, put a little hat on him and gave him back to me. I felt completely energized. I didn't think a second wind was possible after that, but it came. The long-suffering grandparents were invited in from the waiting room. They surrounded the bed and we were blinded by flash photography. It was cute :) They asked what his name was, and I told them. Jude is the first grandchild on all three sides. They all watched as he got his first bath, which he hated.

After awhile the parents went home and they wheeled us down to our post-partum room. It was 2:30 am when we finally went to sleep. We spent the next two days and nights in the hospital and it was wonderful. All of our nurses were great, and I spent the entire time in that big mu-mu. My only concerns were feeding Jude, sleeping and getting up to go to the bathroom. When I finally put some real clothes on to go home in on Saturday it felt very strange, and nice. Jude went home in his little bear suit and his scarf -- the one that matches Daddy's.

Jono is a proud proud papa, and he's been an amazing help to me over the past week. He is vacuuming upstairs as I write this.

Yes, I'm very lucky.

Welcome to the World, Son

This is Jude Daniel Klooster. He was born on November 20 at 12:43 a.m. He weighed 6 lbs, 10 oz. and was 20 inches tall.

Jude means "praise". His middle name is for his uncle Dan Steven (1976 - 2002).

Hey Jude. We love you already.

I'll post his birth story soon :)

1 cm

I had another appointment this morning. Still gaining a pound or two a week on average. After examining me my doctor said I have a "favorable cervix". On the phone after the appointment Jono said, "I knew that. That's why I married you." Ha ha. All that means really is that I'm ready to go and if I needed to be induced for any reason, I could be. I'm about 90% effaced, 1 centimeter dilated, and I'm due one week from today.

We are still running around finishing up last-minute tasks around the house and making sure we have everything for Gordito. We made a rather unsuccessful trip to a couple of stores last night for a few last things. We brought home a diaper pail that it turns out only works with disposable liners, a wonky hamper that needs to be returned, and a dog bed for Mona that is too small to contain her super-fuzzy body. *Sigh*. I really don't like shopping. And whenever we go to Babies R Us I feel like the Will Ferrell character in the movie Old School...

Frank: I told my wife I wouldn't drink tonight. Besides, I got a big day tomorrow. You guys have a great time.

College Student: A big day? Doing what?

Frank: Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday. We're going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time.

Anyway, my mom has been asking me if the doctor ever says anything about how big she thinks Gordito is. I asked her today and she said he seems kind of long and possibly about 7 pounds at the moment. Pretty average overall. She commented again on how often he likes to stick his butt out. Then she gave me some tips on how to get labor started. We'll give these a test drive and see if they work :)

1/2 cm

I had my weekly appointment again this morning. Cervix is tilted forward, 1/2 cm dilated. Woot!

Last time the doctor tapped his head through the cervical wall, but this time there was just enough space so that she could actually reach in and touch him. So weird. I'm 38 weeks with two weeks to go.

You got that right...

No, I' m not kidding.

I knit a miniature scarf that happens to match exactly the scarf I knit for Jono two years ago. Guess who it's for.

Jono is ecstatic. Like, more excited about the matching scarves than I've seen him about anything since that plastic stick blinked "pregnant".

Jono's scarf was my first knitting project. I splurged on this Chinese homespun yarn (or whatever) with a color combo called "mineshaft". I figured that was manly enough, so I bought it and started stitching away. The only problem was that when I was finished I had 3/4 of a ball of the Chinese Mineshaft yarn left to work with, and I didn't really want Mineshaft Potholders. I was stuck on what to do with it.

Then it occurred to me: dad-and-baby matching scarves would be kind of funny. Actually, just a fat baby wearing a knit scarf is funny, even if it didn't match.

Timidly, I mentioned the idea to Jono. His eyes lit up like fabulous Roman candles. He started asking me EVERY DAY when I was going to start on it. I'm in the middle of a rust-orange scarf for moi at the moment and was trying to finish that first, but after fielding "the look" from Jono for over an hour as I added row after knitted row to my own scarf, I finally caved and borrowed some of Jessie's needles for the mini mineshaft scarf-ito.

I started out making the scarf 20 stitches wide, to which Jono said: "Too wide." So I unraveled the first row and started over with 15 stitches. I showed it to him again and got approval for the smaller size. As I continued adding rows, I held it up for Jono every ten minutes or so and got a bright-eyed, eager look every time. It was very rewarding work.

We used Jono's bicep and then my ankle to figure out how long to make it. Hee hee. I was pointing out to Jessie the other day that babies don't have necks, so the scarf will probably be halfway up his face.

Oh well. Still funny, if not funnier that way.

Indulge me as I post the un-cropped version of this photo. Anything else cute in this picture besides the scarf-ito? (Hint: black, white, upper right corner).

My mom sent this (and she would know)

Why Boys Need Parents

You find out interesting things when you have sons, like...

1.) A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep.
2.) If you spray hair spray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite.
3.) A 3-year old boy's voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant.
4.) If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42 pound boy wearing Batman underwear and a Superman cape. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20x20 ft. room.
5.) The glass in windows (even double-pane) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.
6.) Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.
7.) Certain Lego's will pass through the digestive tract of a 4-year old boy.
8.) No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you still can't walk on water.
9.) VCR's do not eject 'PB & J' sandwiches even though TV commercials show they do.
10.) Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.
11.) Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.
12.) The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.
13.) It will, however, make cats dizzy.
14.) Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.
15.) 80% of men who read this will try mixing the Clorox and brake fluid.

Thanks for the heads up Mom. I'm okay with him blowing things up as long as it's supervised (we'll call it "science"), but I'm relieved Mona doesn't fit in the washing machine.

Today (don't forget)

A couple of my milestone doctor appointments seem to have lined up nicely with big moments in politics. Today is Election Day in America, and to kick it off I was in my doctor's office getting a pelvic exam. It was my first since the initial appointment to confirm that I was pregnant, so I was excited to know if there was any progress being made.

As of today I am 60% "effaced", meaning the cervix is beginning to thin in preparation for birth. It is usually firm like the tip of your nose, but mine now feels like the skin on your cheek. It's also in the middle stages of tipping forward, which is something it needs to do before the baby can be born. I haven't started to dilate yet, but there are definite steps in that direction.

He has been head-down for a few months now, and during the exam she said, "Oh yeah, his head is right there." She gave him a few taps on the top of his little noggin and told me that he has probably dropped because of how low he is sitting, but he hasn't yet "engaged". To me this makes him sound like a rocket ship about to launch, which I guess isn't too far off. From now on I get to go in every week to see how close I am to having him.

She told me that no matter what the signs, there is really no telling when exactly he will come. "You can be at the stage you're at now and go into labor tonight, or you could still be three or four weeks away," she said.

Wow, well that's easy to prepare for then. I'll just stay tuned with the rest of you :)

36 weeks / 9 months

All dressed up and nowhere to go. Except maybe the hospital.

People have been asking if I'm starting to become uncomfortable. Why, do I look like it?

My definition of that word has changed over the past few months. I feel like a kangaroo. When I grip my belly on both sides it's not as rounded as it once was. It's kind of bony - there are elbows and knees and a little bum. I can literally feel his body between my hands. Though I'm quite conscious of the space he's taking up right now, I'm not sure HE knows how big he is. He moves around in there like I'm the size of a gymnasium. He's recently started to "flutter kick" like he's in a spinning class, and other times it feels like I have a little chipmunk in there poking and scratching at the side of my uterus digging for seeds and nuts. I used to wonder why pregnant women pressed down on their bellies so often. Now I know it's to keep the little suckers out of your rib cavity.

His other habit is to sit on my sciatic nerve, which is rather startling. It's a sudden sharp cramp in the groin that makes me double over a few times a day. I've also taken to waddling a bit. Not because I'm big and fat (though I do feel kind of cow-ish at times), but because I'm so front-loaded that my balance is off and it's impossible to keep up a normal gait.

I just have to share one thing Jono said when I first bought sweatpants. This was awhile ago but I forgot to mention it. "How does my butt look in these?" I asked him. "Good," he replied. "It's more.... Latina."

Okay, so maybe it's not all in the front. They say that comes off quickly if you breastfeed. Sign me up.