A Bean Is Born

The birthing room was fairly comfortable. It definitely was not like the room we saw during our tour, but it was still quite nice. I think we got the room with the land of the misfit chairs. There was one rocking recliner for two tired people, and your dad said it felt like sitting on a toilet bowl--a little support on the outsides with a hole in the middle. They put a couple chairs together and managed to make another decent napping space. The foot of my bed was lower than the head of my bed, which I think is normal, but I felt like I was going to slowly slide down. And, of course, I was hooked up to all sorts of contraptions, but I think we were all settled in by 9:30 p.m.

Then the nurse came in to check me out down south and decided to stretch things out a bit. It was pretty uncomfortable, but I knew it was just the beginning of the pain I was going to feel. They started filling me with fluids and realized it might have been a bit much to go through almost an entire bag in a few minutes. The Merryman Curse at work again--it's not usually anything major, just those little annoyances that pick at you. It kept me running to the bathroom every 20 minutes for a couple hours. Right around 10:00 p.m., they hooked me up with a low dose of Pitocin to get things rolling. The nurse talked about increasing the Pitocin, breaking the membranes, and a catheter, but we didn't end up needing that. You must have finally decided that you might like to meet us and took over.

I felt my water break around midnight. I didn't know what it was at the time, but I told your dad and Grama Schulz that I felt a pop. It felt like a water balloon popped inside me, but nothing came out, so I wasn't sure what it was. A little while later, I stood up to go to the bathroom and started dripping. Then I knew. It wasn't like the movies, though, where a flood rushes out from under the dress. One of my biggest fears, along with throwing up in front of people at work, was my water breaking in some inappropriate place--at work, in a restaurant, in someone's car. Here I was, in the most appropriate place ever, and I was still embarrassed and felt like I needed to clean up the trail I left from the bed to the bathroom. I did clean up the bathroom floor as much as I could. While I was in there, I think your dad called for help, and they cleaned up the room.

After the trips to the bathroom slowed down, I was able to rest a little bit. Your dad got some music playing and kept us laughing with his great sense of humor. I don't remember being too stressed out or really worried about anything. I kept my mind on what was happening in the moment, rather than fretting about what would happen later. I've always struggled to do that in life, but I managed to live in the moment for your birth. I don't think I really started to feel the contractions until around midnight. Your dad was watching them on the monitor and after a while started commenting on the big ones.

When he decided to step out (for the first time that night) to get a drink (and probably go to the restroom), that's when I decided it was time for the epidural. I couldn't get myself to breathe through the contractions anymore. Instead, I was starting to hold my breath and the bedrail. Good thing it was a sturdy bedrail or I may have pulled it off. Giving birth is expensive enough without having to pay for a new bed, and I’m not sure insurance would pay for my destructive attempt at getting through contractions. For whatever reason (one escapes me at the moment), I wanted to wait for your dad to get back before I asked for the epidural. When he returned, I told him I was ready for it. Your dad said my contractions were at 75 (100 being the end of the scale).

They cleared the room for this procedure, after I waited for your dad to come back. Of course. They had me sit Indian-style on the bed, with my back hunched over and my shoulders down, and I could not hold still while they poked that needle in my spine. Epidural lady had to try at least twice before she found the spot she needed. My nurse put her arms around my shoulders, got in my face, and kept reminding me to breathe, hold still, keep my shoulders down, and arch my back. It didn't seem possible to do these things on my own. She kept me focused, and she got me through it.

Side note, but an important one: My nurse was wonderful! She was everything we needed her to be. She was not offended by our sometimes crude sense of humor, she was kind and considerate, she gave clear instructions and good advice, and she took control in a way that was comforting. I needed to have confidence in her, and I did. I don't know a lot about a lot of things, but I am capable of following directions. I did what that nurse told me, and I'm convinced she was largely responsible for my nice and easy labor. She is an angel working as a nurse at St. Anne's in Columbus, OH.

Back to epidurals... they make things nice again. The timing of events, at this point, is a blur. Everything happened so fast. People don't usually say that about an 8 1/2 hour block of time with pain involved, but I landed on the favorable side of the average length of labor. I remember the pressure waking me up. I couldn't sleep any more because every time I would have a contraction, I felt like I was going to wet myself (or worse). Your dad was sleeping, and your grama was snoring... loudly! I was trying to wake up your dad without waking up Grama, but I ended up having to get loud about it. I felt bad waking your grama up, but the feeling didn't last. I decided that if the pregnant chick couldn't sleep, no one should. I asked for a magazine and your baby book. I found the page in your baby book for your hand and footprints and asked your dad to set it out for the nurse. A little bit later the nurse said I was 8 centimeters dilated, and your dad rushed to call Grama Peggy, Aunt Nikki and Uncle Paul, and Aunt Kandace. I think we decided to make calls at 6 centimeters, but you skipped right over a bunch of numbers. The last one I remember is 3. Grama Peggy made it to the birthing room just in time.

We ran through a practice push, and then we got serious about it. I don't remember feeling like I had to push (like the nurse said), but I learned when I should. Your dad was on my left side, and he held up that leg and my head through almost every contraction. However, he missed one answering a text from your Uncle Paul that read something like, "Whatcha doin'? Wanna go get some coffee?" So we even managed to laugh during hard-core labor. I didn't feel any pain, but I did feel like my eyes were going to pop out when I pushed. I actually put my hands over my eyes a couple times, at first. But then I started watching the action in the mirror on the ceiling and had to put my glasses on to see. I'm sure I pushed for a few hours, but you came fast. I guess you didn't see the point in taking it slow; which is good, because I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that we are all about instant gratification, and we had already waited nine months.

The nurse called the doctor to tell her it was time. We let a few contractions go by without pushing. Then the nurse called the doctor again to make sure she wasn't thinking about taking a shower first. We resumed pushing, and the doctor came just in time to catch you. Our Bean was born! You were born at 6:21 a.m. on May 12, 2010, a tiny 6 pounds and 15 ounces, 17 inches long. You were healthy, had all your fingers and toes, and had a little stork's kiss on your forehead and under your right eyebrow.

Everyone started taking pictures. Your dad cut the cord, and one of those pictures turned out to be a little too revealing. They put a towel on my chest, laid you on it, and we started to clean you off. Then they took you away to fix you up and check you out, and everyone went with you to take pictures. Your dad was kind enough to remember I was in the room and came back just in time. The doctor was finishing up down there, and I could still see it all in the mirror. He found the remote and turned the mirror so I couldn't see the rest. Probably a good move on his part. With the miracle of birth being over with, it was just gross.

I don't remember exactly what I thought. I don't remember exactly how I felt. For the most part, I don't remember what I said or what anyone else said. I don't remember when everyone came in the room. I do remember shaking. I shook like it was 20 below and they just pulled me out of a river. I know I had "a moment" with your dad and with Grama Schulz, but I can't remember anything specific. I know we talked about how beautiful you were, and I remember each person holding you. I'm pretty sure there were conversations about when Aunt Kandace got to town and when Uncle Paul and Aunt Nikki got to the hospital. But the one thing that really stands out is your Uncle Paul walking up to the bed. He hugged me and said, "Thank you." I'm not certain just what he was thanking me for. I can guess, but the exact reason doesn't matter. I know that he meant it with all his heart, and I know that because I felt it. I wish I could remember specific moments with your dad. I wonder if nothing really stands out because he was a rock the entire time, because there was a constant flood of love and support from him. You'll see what I mean. Everything is just better when he's around. And now we have you to love and support. Welcome to our world, Little Bean. Welcome to your life.

The Last Sophie-less Day

I woke up on May 10 and started feeling those pre-labor symptoms again. It was especially inconvenient because I had to pick up your Grama Schulz from the airport that afternoon. I managed to grab her and get her home, but we were pretty pathetic. Grama woke up with aching arms from her rheumatoid arthritis, so she wasn't feeling her best either. We both claimed a couch in the living room and tried our best to get comfortable. Grama passed out and started snoring... loudly!! And I laid there feeling slightly less miserable than I felt sitting up.

Your dad came home from work, made us dinner, served us dinner, picked up after us, commented on what a riot we both were (sarcastically, of course), visited a little, watched some TV, and finally gave up on us and went to bed. Grama ate, watched some TV, and slept off and on. I had two bites of food and took over the big couch because that's where I'd been sleeping for weeks.

Grama, tiny little thing that she is, took up half a cushion on the end of my "bed." I thought she was staying up to watch a movie, but then she leaned over on my butt and started to snore again... loudly! I was so exhausted, I was actually getting five or ten minutes of sleep here and there. So when the snoring reached an all-time high, I asked her if she wanted me to record the movie so she wouldn't miss it. She said she wasn't watching it, so I asked her why she didn't go to bed. She said she thought she would stay with me since I didn't feel good, so I had to tell her to take her sweet, snoring self up to bed or I'd never get any sleep, if any more sleep was even possible. We laughed at her, and she went upstairs to bed.

The next morning I still wasn't feeling the greatest, so when the nurse at the doctor's office called and told me there was a cancellation, I was so excited not to have to wait two more days to see the doc. It was not possible for me to make it there in 35 minutes for the canceled appointment, so I told her what I'd been experiencing and she made time for me later in the afternoon.

So there we are in the tiny room, me half naked sitting on the table and your dad in the corner threatening to fart. (A threat he made at every appointment since our first trip to St. Anne's for a sonogram. I think he really had to fart that first time, and we got giggling like children because he kept coming close to me, saying he was going to blame the stink on me. After that, we just kept the joke going because we're juvenile like that.) The doc finally comes in, checks things out, and there had been no progress. After three episodes of this pre-labor stuff, my body hadn't been doing a very good job at getting ready for anything. I was so upset!! However, because of those symptoms and my high blood pressure (which had never been high before), she had me take a stress test and said we would decide what to do after that. I was hoping she would decide to get things rolling since you and I weren't getting anywhere fast.

As always, you were quite the wiggle worm, and your dad had a hard time keeping up with you and your heartbeat during the stress test. It took FOREVER! We met again with the doc. She said everything seemed OK, and I was fighting a battle in my head. Of course I wanted everything to be OK, but I also wanted to get you out of there and you didn't seem to be in any hurry. I got the impression that she was not the kind of doctor to schedule a c-section if I decided I wanted you to be born on a certain day, so I knew that if things were OK, then I was about to be sent home with a "see ya next week" and a "hang in there, sweet pea." Then the doc suggested inducing, and I started to cry. The tears were rolling down my cheeks instantly--there was no controlling them. I was so relieved! She was concerned about my high blood pressure and protein in my urine and said that preeclampsia could get bad fast. You were full-term and she had no reason to believe there would be any complications from inducing. We waited while she called the hospital, and when she came back she said the oddest thing. She told us to be at the hospital at 8:00 p.m. Eight o'clock THAT night. That's when my relief turned to panic. I really didn't think it would be scheduled THAT night.

We had hours to wait. The doc told me to eat before I came because I wouldn't eat again until after you were born. So we ate and finished putting the last few items in The Bag. The bag that I had only started packing after I found out I was going to see the doc. Your dad thought I should pack it just in case they sent me right to the hospital. I didn't thing that would happen. I almost didn't do it. But I'm glad I listened to your dad, because I was so distracted that I'm not sure what would've ended up in that bag if I had waited.

We arrived at the check-in counter at 8:00 p.m. And in true Merryman Curse style, all the rooms at the inn were full. So we waited... and we halfheartedly watched American Idol... and we went back and forth between the waiting area and the check-in counter, giving information as needed... and then they called our name, and we were on our way. May 11, 2010, was our last Sophie-less day.

If This is PRE-labor...

I finally lost my sense of humor about the aches, pains, and general discomfort you'd been causing me at about 5:00 p.m. on April 28. I could not find a comfortable position to sit, stand, or lay because of the pain in the front of my big ole belly. I'm not convinced they were contractions, and I can't even describe how it hurt. My sides ached--kind of towards my back, not my belly. I was nauseous, freezing (which I didn't think was possible for a pregnant woman), and couldn't eat or sleep. The least painful position I found was laying on my left side, and after 12 hours of trying to lay that way, that whole side of my body was sore. I had a headache that started in the middle of my forehead, stabbed me in the left eye, and traveled down that side of my neck, shoulder and upper back.

Since I didn't think I was having contractions, my water hadn't broken, and I wasn't bleeding or anything, I didn't feel like I had any real reason to worry. I just kept reminding myself that I was nine months pregnant and was bound to feel some pain from time to time. But I'm sure the nagging fear that something might be wrong made everything even worse.

By 6:00 a.m., it was like it never happened, but I was exhausted. I felt horrible, but I stayed home from work even though I was starting my maternity leave in two days. I called my doctor's office as soon as they opened, and the nurse said it sounded like pre-labor. (I'm guessing pre-labor is any symptom during the eighth or ninth month that doesn't fall in the Braxton Hicks category, but I'm still not sure. Maybe it's the same thing.) She said it was just my body getting ready to give birth, and she told me to take it easy.

Now, I hadn't been REALLY scared about giving birth until that moment. And I remember thinking to myself... If this is pre-labor, I'd really like to reconsider this situation I'm in. I don't think I can handle the real thing.

Please understand that your mom hadn't had any surgery to speak of or broken bones, never spent the night in a hospital, and the only serious pain she'd ever had were from migraines. Now, migraines are no joke, but I couldn't take a couple pills and a nap and make this pre-labor stuff go away. Let's just say I was a few big jumps beyond concerned!

We made it a little over a week before this happened again--another 12 hours of it. And a few days later, on May 10, it lasted 24 hours. And I was done with it...

Shopping For Sophie

Your dad and I had been planning a shopping spree to get whatever we thought we still needed after receiving all those baby shower gifts--silly things like formula and newborn diapers (the boring but necessary stuff). Your due date was coming up soon, and we were starting to feel like there was still a lot to do, clean, and buy before you arrived, so we were going to get busy shopping.

On Wednesday, April 14, the day after the last baby shower, I took half a day off work and met your dad at the Westerville Fire Department to have your car seat inspected. I'm glad we did, because we did not have the base installed correctly. It needed to be tilted back more to ensure your little head (with not so little cheeks, we would come to find out) would not flop forward every time we took off from a stop light/sign. I was also concentrating so hard on all the things that needed to be tightened and snapped into place that I forgot to make sure that the straps were over the doll's shoulders and that its arms were through the straps. Lesson learned, the embarrassing way.

After the inspection, we left your dad's car in a nearby parking lot and met your Grama Peggy at Target and began to spend not quite an obscene amount of money. We actually spent less than what we expected. After Target, we went to Olive Garden for dinner. And we finally ended up at Babies 'R Us.

We got formula, more bottles and nipples, more diapers and onesies and sleepers specifically for newborns, towels and washcloths, a swing (which was our not-necessary splurge), a pack 'n play (which Grama actually bought for you) and a quilted pad for it, a mobile, 2 more bases for your car seat, sun blockers for both cars, infant medications, a little contraption that holds bottle parts and pieces in the dishwasher (which we got two more of later--greatest invention ever), a set of storage drawers, and more. I had to talk your dad into the storage drawers, insisting it was necessary for our convenience and that you would have no problem filling it with girl stuff after we were done using it. Oh, and as long as we were busy spending, we also got some Pyrex dishes so we could get rid of most of our plastic, cancer-causing storage bowls, since your dad couldn't remember not to microwave them.

Sometime during this long afternoon/evening, my feet started to swell. I noticed it and knew it was from all the walking we were doing. But by the end of the night, my feet were bigger than I'd ever seen them, which I did not notice until it was too late. I had Fred Flintstone feet (giant toes and no ankles) and it was a shocking reminder that my body was not my own and that it could not do all that it used to be able to do before you started taking up space. I had been feeling fine, except for the swollen feet, but it was time to call it a night. On the way home, I hit a brick wall of exhaustion. When we pulled into the neighborhood, I was never so happy to be there, and then we realized... we forgot your dad's car in the parking lot by the fire department. Such an awful ending to such a fun day.

Baby Shower 2.0

On Tuesday, April 13, Jackie Brown, Therese Gaulke, Emilie Greenwald, and Kati Greenhill hosted a baby shower at Kati's house. So after work that day, I went to Kati and Kip's house, and for once I didn't have to worry about finding my way there. Your dad had just recently bought me a GPS, which I call Jack In The Box. The voices have names, and you can choose between a male and female voice (Jack or Jill). Your dad thought the GPS would be helpful for us (and by "us" I mean you and me). You see, your mom is directionally challenged, and he knew that I would have to find my way to all sorts of new places after you came along. I didn't really want one because I was getting along fine using MapQuest, but your dad insisted, and I'm so glad he did. I love my Jack In The Box! It is so much less stressful driving to or in unknown territories. I hope you are better than me and better than your dad thinks he is at navigating Columbus and surrounding areas.

So I found my way there, and so did the following people: Judy Hite and Emma (Judy's granddaughter), Lorri Kuczynski, Lynn Pendergast, Jackie Brown, Dawn Kirkbride, Kati Greenhill (of course), JoAnn Bigham, Laura Brennan, Therese Gaulke, Julie Hartfelder, Melissa Hasebrook, Melissa Thien, Paula Combs, and Judy Meyer.

Even though Emilie couldn't make it to the shower, she dropped off the cake she made, which was delicious, before work that day. The next day, people were still talking about how yummy that cake was. Tammie Weaston-Fisher, Jane Schmidt, and Cheryl Fackelman also could not attend but were kind enough to drop off gifts for you before the shower. Debbie Crockett wasn't feeling well and didn't come to the shower, but she pitched in with Judy Meyer and Melissa Thien to get you a shelf with plastic bins to hold all (or more likely, some of) the toys you will eventually have.

Instead of playing games, Jackie asked everyone to give me some much needed advice. I wish I could remember every tidbit and who told me what. Unfortunately, I haven't had a dependable memory since about month four of our pregnancy. You stole it, and you still haven't given it back. But I remember the following comments and advice (and I'm paraphrasing at this point):

• Enjoy every minute. They grow up so fast.
• Try to appreciate the middle-of-the-night feedings. It's so quiet and peaceful and the best time to bond with your little one because there are less distractions.
• At night, don't turn on lights or talk a lot during feedings. It will help keep her from mixing up her nights and days, and it will help her go back to sleep. Just be quiet and comforting.
• Don't be afraid to ask for help. That's what friends and family are for.
• Teach her to be independent. Don't hang on too tight.
• (Possibly the best advice, given by little Emma...) If you have another baby, they will fight a lot. Also, when the baby gets older, you won't have to change poopie diapers.
• (Another piece of advice competing for first place, given by Melissa Hasebrook...) If your child does something embarrassing in public, look at her and say, "Just wait until I tell your mother what you did!" and walk away.

The advice agreed upon by many:

• Sleep when the baby sleeps.
• Epidural!!!

We received lots of great and helpful gifts--clothes, blankets, toys, an infant tub, stuffed animals, hair accessories, a growth chart, bottles, pacifiers, a shower cake (made of diapers, with bath items, toys, little shiny, purple shoes, receiving blankets, and more), first aid items, a step stool, books, a piggy bank, bubbles, an entertainment mat, a rubber ducky, baby lotions and potions, and the list goes on and on. Melissa Hasebrook made you a little bathrobe. It's green with pink on the outside and has little monkeys and multi-colored polka dots on the inside. I can't wait to see you in it! Kip, Kati, and Emilie gave us gobs of diapers. I know it's not very exciting for you, but we were thrilled. It's darn expensive to keep your little butt clean and covered (and it's such a cute little butt). Lorri gave us a bottle warmer, which I didn't even know we registered for. But your dad was looking out for us and must have scanned or registered for it without me knowing it. It really does make life easier!! She also crocheted a beautiful multi-colored afghan for you and gave it to us later, a week or so before you were born. Jackie Brown had a year-'round theme. She gave you an outfit for each season, including the cutest little pink and brown faux fur winter coat that I am so jealous of.

JoAnn Bigham gave me an odd item that deserves mentioning and explaining. A couple years ago, JoAnn gave me a Frithel for Christmas. She thinks it's funny that I make up words from time to time (or at least I used to when I was younger). When we started working together in the Main Office, I began teaching her some of those "vocabulary words," so she thought she'd make up one of her own. And so a Frithel was born--a hula coconut doll she bought at a party store. The next year, she gave me a pregnant Frithel, a hula coconut doll wearing a t-shirt with a well-placed bump. And at the shower, she gave me a baby Frithel, among other things. Baby Frithel--a monkey coconut bank--was sporting a little Winnie-the Pooh hat. Thanks to JoAnn, we have a complete Frithel family. Add them to the list of weird, funny, and/or inappropriate things we have around the house. So when you ask me about them 5 or 10 years from now, I may not remember why we have them, but at least it is documented here.

After we were full of food and cake and discussing baby stuff, Jackie cracked a whip and had everyone load up all those presents in my truck. When I got home, your dad brought them all in the house, and they filled the living room. There was a trail in front of the couch and to the front door. Bags and boxes and storage containers took up the rest of the space. Your dad and I looked at all the presents together; we oohed and aahed over all the little outfits, imagining what you'd look like in them; we talked about where this and that would go in your room; we ate cake (yes, I had another piece--you needed it), and we went to bed. What a great evening, thanks to my friends and co-workers from Upper Arlington High School!!