40,320 Minutes

40,320 minutes. 28 days. 1 month. 

However you measure it, it's still unbelievable that my Catherine has been a part of this world for that long. I look at her and I am mesmerized by her mere existence. 

In one month, I have watched her gain strength as she struggles with the weight of her own head. I have watched her eyes focus more with each passing day, studying the details of my face as I talk to her. I have learned the subtle differences in her cries and have adapted (as much as possible) to her (our) sleep schedule. I have already folded and put away the first of her outgrown clothes as she is quickly surpassing "premie" stature.

I looked at pictures from the hospital today, from her first moments on this earth, and I wept at the realization of how quickly a month has passed us by and at how much she has already changed. I want to freeze time to make sure I can soak it all in. I want to hold her tiny body against mine until the feeling is saved to my memory forever. I want to breathe in that intoxicating baby smell that cannot be reproduced and savor the impossible softness of her skin. I want to record the sweet sounds of her sleeping in my mind to recall when she no longer sleeps beside me. 


And as I lie awake in anticipation of the 3:30 a.m. feeding, I want to put this moment in my pocket and keep it forever. Because an entire month has passed in seconds and I just can't wrap my mind around it.

1 day old (2-24-11)

1 month old (3-23-11)

Three Weeks Ago...

Three weeks ago, I couldn't tell you how many milliliters were in an ounce; my laundry did not consist of mostly tiny pink things; and my days were not divided into two hour increments or measured in bottles and dirty diapers.

Three weeks ago, I had no clue how to operate a Diaper Genie (and still really don't...); I ate meals and typed using both hands; and Johnson's Baby Cream was not part of my daily beauty regimen.

Three weeks ago, I didn't know what the weight of a tiny person asleep on my chest felt like; and I didn't realize I could spend minutes upon minutes upon hours just watching someone breathe.

Three weeks ago, I didn't know how much my heart could expand or how incomplete my life was until now.


Three weeks ago, February 23rd started off as just another day...

Until my life changed forever...

Just three weeks ago...

Happy three weeks to my sweet Catherine. It's amazing what can change in just a few weeks!

Hello World

Today, I received an email with the subject line: 37 Weeks: Ready. Steady. Almost time. They must not know my Catherine.

While today marks my 37th week gestationally, I sit in awe of my 9 day old daughter. We are officially new parents. Four and a half weeks earlier than expected.

Last Tuesday night, just two days after my baby shower, something wasn't right. Husband was four hours away for work and I was home alone, miserably dealing with what I thought was an intolerance to a change in my diet. I drank tons of water, took an emergency trip to CVS for some Milk of Magnesia and V8 Splash, and talked to my mom on the phone about how unbelievably uncomfortable I was. I soaked in a warm bath, tried breathing exercises, and listened to calming music. Still no relief. By 4:30 a.m., I had only slept in 15 minute intervals due to some cramping, and I felt something unfamiliar. 


My water broke. In my bed. While Husband was miles away.


Apparently those "cramps" every 15 minutes were contractions and I was officially in labor. Alone. At 35 and 1/2 weeks.


I called the hospital to let them know I was on my way (as soon as I could find someone to come get me) and began calling my list of emergency contacts. As my friend with the crazy early work schedule, Ryan was quick to answer her phone at such an ungodly hour and she and her husband were in my driveway in minutes. She raced to the hospital with the ease of Earnhardt, emergency flashers on, and got me safely to labor and delivery where they immediately admitted me into triage and began to monitor my contractions.


Worried by my early labor and convinced they could stop my contractions, Ryan called Husband to update him, telling him not to worry because they were pretty sure I was not having this baby right now. However, within minutes of telling him that, my OBGYN entered the room, looked at the ultrasound and, not liking the lack of movement she saw, told me to get ready for a C-section because we needed to get this baby out now.


Shock. Anxiety. Fear. Words just can't adequately describe the immense feeling of helplessness I felt as nurses, techs, and doctors flooded the room and prepped me while wheeling me down the hallway. Would this baby be okay? What could possibly be wrong? I had followed all the pregnancy rules obsessively and still, this baby was coming way too early and without her Daddy there.


They wheeled me into the OR, gave me a spinal block and moved me to the operating table. I waited anxiously as I felt pressure and heard the doctors on the opposite side of the sheet. They had my little girl, but the umbilical cord was wrapped twice around her neck and twice more around her little body. My water breaking early had been a distress signal from my little girl. Ryan held my hand and I waited for that reassuring sound to fill the room. I needed to hear my baby cry. Finally, I heard her. The most amazing sound in the world. My daughter's cry.


5 pounds, 2 ounces, 19 inches long, and a head full of dark hair, Catherine Elizabeth made her debut.


They brought her to my side so I could welcome my daughter to the world. She was pink and perfect. Her deep blue eyes open wide. I looked at my daughter and simply said, "Hi baby"; and then watched the nurse take her directly to the NICU for observation with Ryan by her side. Tears streamed down my face as a wave of emotions rushed through me. Ecstatic that she was here safely, terrified that something could still go wrong, overwhelmed that the past three hours had resulted in Catherine, and upset that Husband had missed it all. It was official. We were parents.


I type this one-handed, as my other arm happily occupies my healthy nine day old daughter. I watch her breathe, watch her purse her tiny lips like her Daddy. She has my eyes and his eye lashes. She coos softly and nuzzles her chubby cheeks closer to mine. I am hopelessly in love with this tiny little girl. 

Welcome to the world, baby Catherine. We've been waiting for you our entire lives.

Showered with Love

Sunday, eleven of my closest friends hosted the most beautiful shower to welcome baby Catherine. I cannot express how loved I feel and how lucky I feel our baby girl is to be so loved by so many people already. The party was absolutely perfect with wonderful friends and family, tons of delicious food, beautiful decorations, and, of course, the gifts! We were showered with more gifts than I could have possibly imagined for our baby girl. She will be one well dressed (and spoiled) little girl! Husband and I are so very grateful for everything! Now, we just need our little girl to get here!

As I was busy sitting on a lily pad and being waited on, I didn't take any pictures. Luckily, other people did! So, enjoy!

Entryway

So much food!

Pretty wreath :)

Delicious dessert table

Diaper cake :)

The Ryan girls

All my hostesses!

Nana with her granddaughters (waiting for her first great granddaughter)

Grandma with her granddaughters (waiting for her first great granddaughter)

Mom (aka Catherine's "CiCi") and me

The Parenting Class Drop Outs

Overall, my view on pregnancy is pretty positive. Yes, it is at times inconvenient (I now plan errands around restroom locations) and there are days I look in the mirror and wonder when (and if) I will ever get my body back or if the lovely brown spots I have developed on my face will fade after birth. But these are mere side effects of an otherwise pretty amazing process. To think that it has already been nearly eight months baffles me. To think that we will meet Catherine so soon baffles me even more. And most days, the thought of this meeting leaves me feeling warm and fuzzy and overwhelmed with excitement, picturing our new lives as a family of three. 

But every now and then, for just a brief moment, I allow myself to freak out and I chose to do this Friday night after reading far too much information on labor and delivery in preparation for our Planning for Parenthood class Saturday. 

Each week, I read the corresponding chapter of my book Your Pregnancy Week by Week in which our baby's size and weight is compared to that of a fruit or vegetable and we are told what is developing that week (ie: fingernails or eyelashes have formed, skin is thickening, etc.). Each week, I picture this tiny being inside me as a banana or a butternut squash or an eggplant and I smile at how quickly she is growing. This week, however, I chose to supplement the usual reading with some not-so-cute reading about actual delivery and all the scariness it entails...

and. I. lost. it.

I must admit, I have soared through this pregnancy with very few freak outs. I have been calm and collected with a general "come what may" attitude toward the whole delivery thing. This is until I allowed myself to focus on the fact that this being that will be, according to my readings, the size of a small pumpkin, must exit my body in some way. Don't get me wrong. I have known for many years how the process of birth works, but had somehow chosen to push this fact to the back of my mind until now. 

So I freaked out and heaved all of my pregnancy driven hormones and uncontrollable sobbing onto my unsuspecting husband until he somehow convinced me to relax and get a few hours sleep before our 7 hour class on how to become new parents.

I share this anecdote only because my fears were replaced with a heavy dose of comic relief only a few hours later as we embarked on an exciting adventure otherwise known as parenting class. The class began at 8:30 a.m. on Saturday. We were surrounded by roughly 10 other couples in varying stages of expectancy all eagerly awaiting what was sure to be an informative day of class for first time parents. We were so very wrong.

The instructor was a nurse who also fancied herself as quite the storyteller, spending the first 30 minutes of class time recalling some of her favorite answers to her list of ice breaker questions and then informing us that while the class was scheduled to end at 3:30, it was almost impossible to fit everything in in only 7 hours. This was not a good sign. We then quickly realized that if some of the people in this class were allowed to be parents, we were going to be impeccable. 

So after spending four hours of our lives which we will never get back and watching far too many inappropriate videos of a Molly Ringwald look-a-like giving birth, Husband and I decided that we had learned nothing we didn't already know and that we could play games on our phones at home instead of in this class. We left for lunch and never looked back.

So while I am still not thrilled at the thought of the general physics involved in birthing a child, I feel much MUCH better about how prepared we are. I had somehow convinced myself that I was missing some greater knowledge that could only be gained from a class when in fact this knowledge I lack can only be gained through experience. So, come what may. In a little over a month, I will embark on the same journey of countless women before me and I will be just fine. Because the finished product is well worth all the drama.

No class can teach that.

Confessions of a Shoe Enthusiast

I have a recent craving and it is not for brownies or Krispy Kreme donuts or fresh avocados and kiwi. No, it is for something far less edible but, oh so filling. I have a craving for shoes. I don't yearn to buy new shoes. I simply yearn to wear my pretty heels again. 

I have really never considered myself to be in the latest fashion. While I may occasionally don something that is "in," my style tends to be more classic. But, for as long as I can remember, I have had a love affair with shoes. And for the last few months, I have traded in the pretty heels for the practicality of flats to accompany my newfound lack of balance combined with the fun of swelling ankles. 

What brought on this sudden need to wear fabulously impractical heels? you may ask. My baby sister's wedding. Baby due date: March 25th. Sister's wedding day: April 9th.

Before you wonder what insanity might lead our family to plan such epic events back to back, I must confess that the wedding came first and the due date was a pleasant surprise. The fact that they are mere weeks apart and that I will still not be looking my fabulous self, has inspired me to find the perfect shoes to distract from the larger-size-than-usual bridesmaid's dress I will be wearing (as if the cute tiny bundle of joy in my arms weren't distracting enough). 

So this morning, I sat in the floor of my closet and tried on all of my favorite shoes to both remind myself of what excellent taste I have and to see if any were appropriate bridesmaid/ new mommy/ holder of precious cargo shoes. On the plus side, I believe I already own the perfect shoes for the wedding. On the down side, I now miss wearing my pretty shoes. Do Manolos go well with hospital gowns?

31 weeks, 31 pounds

As of Friday, I am in my 31st week of pregnancy. As of my doctor's appointment this morning, I have gained 31 pounds. Wow. Considering the fact that my doctor suggested I gain anywhere from 25-30 pounds throughout MY WHOLE PREGNANCY, I think I'm a little off track.

Baby C's heart rate is great, my blood pressure is good, and I passed the dreaded glucose test with flying colors; however, this new not-working-thus-eating-everything lifestyle is not working in my body's favor. I know I should be exercising. Every article I read, every email on pregnancy I get, every book by my bed tells me I should be exercising daily, so why is this such a difficult concept for me? My latest cravings have been avocados and peaches. I drink water by the gallon. I eat spinach daily. Yet still, I expand at a rapid pace.

Before pregnancy, I always swore I would be one of those ultra fit women to whom people say things like, "You are all belly! How do you do it?" To which I would reply," Oh, it's nothing," as if I were naturally the perfect maternity model. This is so much easier said than done. When the 2nd trimester is filled with cravings for fast food, ice cream, and donuts, the scale just doesn't lie.

Yoga is not cutting it alone and I need to get my butt outside (in the COLD) and take a walk... or something like that. If you see me in the neighborhood, wave!  I'll be the giant woman in spandex gasping for breath.