Family photos of V + the lice story

Do you all remember that time I had our third baby and then we went to our oldest's kindergarten musical performance and I looked down at his brother's head and said oh, dear and C asked if I forgot diapers, because yes, well, that too, but no, Honey, the oh, dear was for the bugs crawling among my baby boy's reddish curls and oh, crap? And then we were 100% distracted and I don't know what the performance was about (was it the dinosaur rock where I made him a dinosaur hoodie that you couldn't see from the front and it took eight hours while my lovely MIL watched my newborn and I kept saying I didn't realize it would take this long and he has to have a dinosaur costume). And then there were still bugs and I just needed 14 seconds to call my best friend who dealt with lice so many times and destigmatized it, but I still didn't want to tell my parents or inlaws, who were also at this performance I don't remember, because I couldn't manage their feelings or emotions (turned out I underestimated them, my bad, but also postpartum and living heavily in my head).

The torturous performance ends and we all go outside where I awkwardly cancel dinner plans with all the parents - maybe I say we're tired? C confirms the lice and the parents overhear that "We need to confirm" and leap to wild conclusions I will later share, because when it's a shit show, it's flying feces. We call my bestie, she gives us the low down and we race to CVS/Walgreens/whatever and pick up all the things - I think she said the COMB IS THE MOST IMPORTANT.

We head home, I give in and call the parents (who are all together) and share our predicament and ask that they bring home food. We have two boys in the bathtub with stinging shampoo. Middle dude is the originator, for sure, but the oldest had one adult louse on him and gets treated too. Luckily, the older one has a crew cut. Then, C begins combing through super fine two-year-old curls that we've never cut. And that's, uh, challenging. So at 1030 at night, after the baths with the bad-smelling shampoo, after I collected all the sheets/clothes/stuffed toys/blankets/carseats/etc., after C tried to comb through unruly curls, waking V u[ every couple of seconds, we made an executive decision. C shaved V bald. The C shaved himself bald. This is a big deal because everyone had so many feelings about V's strawberry blond curls. But it was okay. Except, V looked a little bit like a child experiencing cancer and that broke a bit of my heart. But he had C with the same haircut.

And, it took care of the lice. [Perceived gender question - would C and I have shaved our 2yo daughter's hair? I don't know.]

A couple of side notes: one set of our parents overheard us say the word "confirm" at the school, post-performance and jumped to the conclusion that I could be pregnant again. Ugh. Also, lice has a stigma and it should not - it happens. My friend told me there is a lice season in Greece. Also, when you shave someone's head in April, it's cold - hats are good, then it's hot and sunny and hats are also good. We forced V into becoming a hat guy.

More family photos to come, but these of V have my heart. His little bald head.

The biggest brother photos

Our firstborn is my favorite firstborn. He is a child I am proud of. He is challenging and so smart. He is an excellent big brother and while his brother sees his tenderness, he saves a lot for his sister. He's also funny and charming and outspoken.

Our new family of FIVE

Little A's birth story precedes this post in three or four parts, but the essence is that we are SO happy she is here. We needed her. And we love her hard.

Mama's babies photos

I never regret family photos. Never.

To me, it's always worth the time, money and anxiety. I will always need a visual reminder of our family's dynamics at any given time and these feed my soul.

When we welcomed little A earthside [part 3]

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We tried to go to bed Sunday evening, but I was psychologically spent from laboring and being sent home – I tried to time my contractions, but it was just frustrating as they were still between 6-8 minutes (and we were told they needed to be between 3-5 minutes to return to the hospital). C was able to get some sleep as my contractions amped up, became painful and never closer together than six minutes. I was too tired and overwhelmed to recognize the transition into active labor – even as I was resting/sleeping on the bed next to C for six minutes at a time, then hopping up to painfully make it through a contraction standing or leaning.

Obviously, we should have headed to the hospital before labor became that intense. Around 3-4am, I was crying in pain and scared that if we went to hospital they would send us home again. I woke C up and told him that we HAD to go because I couldn’t handle it anymore (I’d been in labor for almost 24 hours). He asked if contractions had picked up (they had) and I said I didn’t know (I didn’t realize). My mom had spent the night and she woke up as we were leaving and asked – C told her that we were going to have a baby (glad I didn’t hear this as his optimism would have made me cry).

As we drove into the hospital (about 25 minutes) I was able to time the contractions on the dash clock and yep, they were definitely between 3-5 minutes, so that was reassuring. I was a lot less cheerful walking through the ER doors than the morning before. I may have been screaming a bit and needed a wheelchair. When we got back to a room, changing was painful, the cervical check was excruciating and the IV placement took at least seven stabs.

I was at least at 7cm when we arrived at the hospital. Ten centimeters (plus other things) is when pushing begins and I’d gone from zero to seven in less than 24 hours (this is for all the moms who are passive aggressively pressured by doctors when they aren’t dilated or effaced at 36, 37, 38 weeks). The nurses moved very quickly to get my IV in, get the anesthesiologist in the room and call the doctor back to the hospital (it’s 430am or so). Meanwhile, I’m in a lot of pain and I’m angry. I remember being frightened too – I knew the doctor had been wrong to send me home the day before and I was thinking that I had to be nice to him because the same doctor was on call and would be doing my surgery now.

It took mere minutes to get me from my room to the OR and hooked up with a spinal – which was wonderful! No nausea, no breathlessness. Then the caesarean surgery. It all felt so urgent (to the doctors, it was – can’t go letting a scheduled surgery candidate have an accidental vaginal delivery). I was so happy to see my previous doctor in the OR as the second – she was my doctor with V and while we didn’t see eye to eye on a few things, she was WAY better than jackass doctor. C scrubbed in and we were off! I was loads nicer after the anesthesia and let the doctor know that I thought we were having a boy and that he’d be over 8.5 lbs. The snarky doctor said he didn’t think the baby would make eight pounds.

Well, I was exactly right – we had a baby girl that weighed exactly eight pounds at 510am!

Not that it marred the actual delivery, but the doctor continued to make comments about the thinness of my uterine scar, fragility of the skin at the scar site and how he recommended I didn’t labor again. Interesting that I wasn’t supposed to labor with this birth, but due to his actions, I ended up laboring for 24 hours, further thinning my uterine scar.  

It was the best feeling to see her and hear her little baby snuffles (I don’t think she cried out). C watched the whole surgery (again) and said she came out all covered in vernix and definitely plump. With two boys before her and me expecting another boy (C says he knows she was a girl) – C saw she was a girl (sort of) and told me – I asked him to repeat himself!

[Part 1]

[Part 2]

[Part 4]

When we welcomed little A earthside [part 2]

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We arrived at the ER (going into labor during the weekend turned out to be an issue) and checked in around 830 or 9am, went to a room and had monitors put on. The nurses confirmed that I was having contractions and was in early labor, but I was not at all dilated or effaced (and someone, please, let me know why that matters if I’m having a surgical birth?). They hooked me up to a saline IV to slow down the contractions so they could send me home because they “didn’t know how long it would be until she went into active labor.” This was the beginning of poor decision-making by the on-call doctor.

The hospital kept me for about three hours and then a nurse came in and told me we could go home because my contractions had spaced out again (not stopped, just gone back to 10-15 minutes apart instead of 8-10 minutes). What?! I started crying and asked to see the on-call doctor (who told them to send me home without ever seeing me). This doctor comes in and tries to explain to me that he has a mom attempting a VBAC and another at the same stage I’m at (unsure if she will leave), so maybe he could do the surgery later – but, he insinuated that I should just go home and that I wasn’t really in labor. From there, he also asked about the date we’d chosen to do the caesarean birth – he strongly alluded if we’d scheduled it at 39 weeks pregnant (like they usually do) that the baby would already be here.

Fun side note, would anyone care to guess why we scheduled at 40 weeks? Couldn’t be because our first baby came early and premature? Because we know that a week makes a lot of difference. V also arrived after 40 weeks. Makes sense.

But not to the doctor. Through what he said, C got the message that we should check out and go home because we were wasting the doctor and hospital’s time. We left after we spoke with the anesthesiologist – who assured me that I could still have a spinal if I ate lunch (I was very excited about spinal anesthesia versus an epidural like I had with previous deliveries – because I felt more of those than I should have + recovery is quicker). We weren’t given any real instructions beyond drinking a lot of water and returning if I was in “active labor.”

Another side note here – no one should have to “qualify” for a scheduled caesarean birth by being in active labor. That’s bullshit. We were fine waiting on a VBAC-ing mom (that was me last time) and until the OR became available. I presented in proven labor and due to the caesarean birth requirement, shouldn’t have even had my cervix checked. I am angry about this still. Also, that they made me feel as if I was hysterical and an imposition, when I presented to the hospital in labor at 39+ weeks pregnant.

C and I got Chipotle and route 44 cherry limeades and went over to my parents’ house to watch movies for a few hours in case something changed. Contractions kept up, but didn’t increase in spacing or duration, so we decided to go home. At home, my mom came out and made a great dinner while C’s mom had kept the boys this whole time (moms, tell me if I get this wrong – it’s a bit hazy, I just know that the boys were safe and happy). And, not in a way I could tell, but by this time, contractions were picking up. There’s a terrible photo of me at the table, leaning over in pain.

[Part 1]

[Part 3]

[Part 4]