Yes, that was my period

It's official. Or at least it is for me.

That five days of bright red blood and pads and icked-up undies was my first period after baby.

I've lamented to friends. I've bitched to Ross. I've whined to my midwife. But really, it's all an act. I don't really mind that I bled. My periods have never been terrible, or hard, or painful. They have been a bit of a nuisance at times, and downright frustrating: if I go camping, fly to a tropical paradise, head to Burning Man or will otherwise be in a bikini or hot pants for days on end, far from my usual bathing access and routine I am GUARANTEED to be on the rag. It's just the way it has always been. I can plan a trip in the middle of my cycle, I swear, and it's drip, drip, drip, tampon, tampon, tampon.

So, really, it's not surprising that now, when I assumed that boob feeding Ginger would guarantee more months, if not years, of a period-free life, that drip, drip, drip, it's back.

Our midwife (at our last ever official visit, boo!) basically said: "Well, if you think this is a period, then it is." I have no warning signs of anything BAD that it could be. I am healthy, happy, reasonably energetic, healed, well-fed and well-watered. And darnit, I know a period when I have one.

She did prescribe one-to-two droppers full of my placenta tincture each am during and for five days after the flow.

Placenta tincture, you wonder? (See photo above.)

Yup. Mine. I got it done up 50/50: half of that temporary organ got turned into powered capsules (good for about six months) to help regulate my postpartum
moods/hormones; and half is now in tincture form (good for darn near ever and made with berry vodka so it tastes kinda awesome). If we had succeeded in the homebirth, I would have had the midwives cook me up a placenta taco, but no, I did not get to eat it.

If I am a bit hormonally outta wack, my own hormones, distilled in vodka, should set me right.

I don't feel outta wack... so, yes, first period at week 6. I don't necessarily expect to settle into a predictable menstrual cycle yet. According to blogs and websites I've perused, many a lady who bleeds so soon WHILE breastfeeding doesn't see another visit from Aunt Flo for five or six months.

Regardless... I'm kindof in awe of my body lately. And therefore, I'm interested and not peeved or concerned: I wonder what my girlie parts are up to?

On a related topic: whatthehell kindof birth control will be be using here soon?

Pull and pray just doesn't seem like a good idea. Ginger is cute and all (see photos), but I have no intention of peeing on a stick any time soon.

Time to do some research. Cool!

Midwives last visit

Kinda sad and rad at the same time.

Ross and I first welcomed the lovely ladies of Awakenings Birth Services into our home at about 12 weeks. Which was back in February.

After our initial interview (two of the three midwives came to our home, we interviewed them, they checked us out, took in our home, our relationship with our dog, how clean of a house we keep, prob'ly checked out how physically fit/not crazy I was/am) and we all agreed to work together.

Every three weeks we were visited by a midwife. The three ladies rotated so that we could all get to know one another. (At a home birth, I would be attended by one midwife for the majority of active labor, and then a second midwife would be called in to attend the delivery. They have their schedule set up so that each lady gets a good chunk of time off the clock. The same schedule allows families to get to know all three, thereby insuring close and comfortable relationships with both of the midwives who eventually attend the birth.)

At each visit, they would take my blood pressure (always perfect, lowish) test my pee (for proteins and other not so good things: always perfect), go over reading that had been assigned to me (I love me some reading assignments, I'd take notes, highlight, gather questions and make Ross read the good/bad/interesting stuff) and direct me towards any testing, screening etc. that I was interested in at the proper time.

These visits lasted for 90 minutes! My one OB visit lasted five minutes -- I was in the waiting room for 45 minutes and saw a nurse or two, but the OB spent maybe five whole minutes with me. I don't think I got to ask more than two questions... I like to ask questions. I like to talk. I like to learn. I did not like the visit with the OB. I did not necessarily dislike it. I learned nothing.

At each visit with a midwife I talked, listened and learned. Not just from the reading material or from what the midwife had to say. But I learned a little about myself or Ross, maybe how we were dealing with a new stage in pregnancy, maybe what we needed to work on to prepare for the next stages in pregnancy.

The midwife visits quickly became something I looked forward to.

After 37 weeks, when the pregnancy is considered full term, the visits were weekly. They began to include vaginal exams (which I loved, really, cause I learned about how dilated my cervix was and how effaced etc.) and eventually talk of what to do if we got to post-term dates.

We did. Get to post dates. Rather than have an early baby, (which I had planned on) or a 40 week baby (due date was August 10) or a regular baby for a first time mom like me (41 weeks and 1 day) we got well into 42 weeks.

The visits amped up in regularity. One of the midwives made herself available to me daily basis, (on the weekend!) when I wanted her to monitor Ginger's heart beat (perfect!) or to otherwise attend to my increasingly neediness.

The labor and birth were amazing (someday, more on these).

And the follow-up visits were fantastic. We had midwives here on day 2, day 3 and, and and, many times in the first days and weeks.

Now, at week six, we are done.

While these ladies remain our midwives and will happily answer any questions we have, offer us guidance, referrals, and in many ways continue to support our little family, there are no more scheduled visits.

It's kinda sad, like I said.

These women have been such an important part of my pregnancy and of course, of my labor. They have also each been here since Ginger was born. Each was informative and supportive. None was ever judgmental or bossy, even when I asked ridiculous questions, the kind that she must have heard from each new mom. (Me: So, it's OK when she does the whole REM sleep thing with her eyes open? 'Cause she kinda looks like a demon when she does that. Midwife (silence) "Yes, newborns sleep can look and sound strange."

In no way do Ross and I feel set adrift or otherwise unprepared for our midwives to say goodbye... I believe that thanks to working with midwives in general and Awakenings in particular, we are better prepared than most new families for the delightful and daunting, messy and difficult, magic and silly days/weeks/months ahead with Ginger.

It's wonderful that we manage our daily lives with a few weeks-old human. We have not only kept her alive, but her weight is great, she is alert and smiley and doesn't torture us any more than we torture her (midnight feedings and 5 am alert/hangout times are trade offs, I think, for bathing her or putting her in a car seat when she REALLY doesn't want to be in a car seat). So it's freaking radical to know that we're doing it!

But, yes, sad to say goodbye to our relationship with the midwives. I'll never be pregnant again for the first time. I'll never ask someone if it's OK to sleep on my back or drink a beer; and be reminded that I live in my body, and if I listen to it, I'll know what is right for me -- and my baby.

I'll never be scared of labor again; and gently guided to the knowledge that not only am I capable of a beautiful labor, but that I was born to experience a beautiful labor.

So, yeah, I could go on... but you get the idea. It's a bittersweet goodbye. I'm gonna go with a ta-ta-for-now, actually, because I'm not done knowing these amazing ladies.

Is that spotting or is my period just happy to see me?

Really? I'm having my first period? At six weeks? What about all those sore nipple moments and the wonderful scraping feeling that accompanies my milk "let down?" Are the 3 am feedings and the 6 am tummy rubbings all for naught?

OK. I'm certainly not breastfeeding for my benefit. (Well, OK, kinda, because it's thanks to the milk ducts, baby suckling and etc. that I'm able to enjoy my 1-to-2 year boob job and I AM enjoying it, thank you very much. So is Ross. So are the guys at the liquor store.)

Breastfeeding is damn good for baby. And I suppose if I was less well-fed, less healthy and less-vitamined, I'd experience a traditional effect of breastfeeding: birth control! Granted, as Kitty pointed out, "Irish Twins" and all my Catholic friends' families are proof that boob feeding does not stop ovulation indefinitely. But I expected a few months of padless and tamponless life post-natally.

There is a chance that the medium, but bright red bleeding I'm experienced (day two or three now) is a resurgence of my spotting. But I don't think so. And I might have even felt a cramp yesterday. And one today.

At our last midwife visit this week, I'm sure we'll further explore this subject. And I know they'll respond to me email query if I have anything to worry about.

But I wonder:
Can I assume this is a period? And if I do, does this mean I am HEALED? And if so:
Can I use tampons?
Can I have regular (by that I mean vaginal, frequent, fun) sex?
Can I exercise more vigorously?
Can I do push ups?
Lift my tiny 10 lb weight?
Do crunches?
Hike?
Bikram Yoga?

Don't know yet. And while I plan to do some research, I need to go buy more pads.

Man, I kinda thought that as long as I was shelling out cash for expensive diapers, I'd get to NOT buy "feminine hygiene products."

Grrrr. Argh. Pads it is.

(But really, it's kinda cool that my body is what it is.)

Things my mother lied about

My mother has told me wonderful stories about my childhood, about raising kids, being pregnant, giving birth, etc. She is a helluva story teller.

When I've called her on her less-than truths, she has said, "Jenny, if we told our daughters the truth about childbirth, the human race would end." Or something like that.

But she has also been right about some stuff, and I've got to admit it.

Things my mother was right about:
--The pierced nipples: they do leak, a little, out of the hole where the piercings were for many years until about six months ago. (When I grudgingly pulled my mom aside to say "you were right" she said, "you don't have your nipples pierced!)... he he he, that's my mom!)
--The first few weeks are fun and easy
--Playing dress-up with Ginger is fun. But she's already growing out of clothes.
--There's really nothing like it. Spider-dog was good practice, but yeah, this is very different.

Things my mother lied about:
"Having a baby is cheap!"
LIES! Hospital bill is, so far, $20,000. I only owe about $2000 of that at this point (after my $2400 deductible and my out-of-network $4500 midwife/homebirth bill, not to mention acupuncture -- that is not paid for even out of network -- by my plan, but this is after my deductible, etc.) All told, I've spent about $10,000 on medical stuff so far.

I just ordered 8 packages of diapers for about $80. Sure, they are biodegradable/disposable, so I could go cheaper, but sheesh, don't tell me this practical stuff ain't gonna add up!

"You'll be such a cute little zombie"
This is what she said while chuckling about my plans to start school. If Ginger had arrived two or more weeks before classes for my master's program started, I would be in school. Now. Before now. Before the six-hour-drive back to NorCal resulted in my sleeping until 5 pm the following day.
Ginger arrived two days AFTER class started, so, Mom's visions of my negotiating sleepless nights and morning classes, paper deadlines and diaper rash, were all for naught. I am NOT a zombie. Because I can sleep in until 11 am if Ginger is up from 5 to 6 or 7 or 8 EVERY night.

Or like last night, if she'd up at 2:30 til 6 am. I fed her. She was smiley so we just hung out. Then she got cranky. Then she threw up two boobs worth of milk on to me and her outfit and my robe. Then she fell asleep. Out of bed by 11:30 am!

"It won't matter where you have her once you have her in your arms"
To some extent this is true. But honestly, at three or four weeks, I was still processing my disappointment with having to START off at the hospital. I always imagined laboring at home -- where I delivered here didn't matter to me in my imaginings, but taking advantage of the privacy and familiarity of our own home, not to mention the birth tub, cool swing/hammock thing that Ross made for me, was certainly part of my imaginings. And my fantasy of our birth.

The birth was amazing, the staff at the hospital made it amazing, I was amazing (yes, I will go there), and of course, having Ginger is amazing.

So, here, mom was kinda right. And kinda wrong.

"I hardly noticed I was in labor"
Say what?

OK, this is what Mom says her older sister said to her. So it was Mom that was lied to. She does in fact admit to noticing she was in labor with me. In fact, she told the Doc she wanted to go home. He said it was too late to good home. She begged for drugs (Can you say transition! I can! Gimme a T...), Dog said nope, too late, you're doing fine, etc.

Next time, on "The Lies My Mother Told Me" -- the milk let down feeling for me: not nice, not warm, not pins and needles. Oh no. Tiny razors scraping my inner boob on their way to the nipple. Fun!

Ginger has allowed me on the computer!

Ginger is nearly six weeks old. The photo here (which makes me laugh!) is from a few weeks ago. She looks more human every day!

Life is very different now. My schedule is different. My body is different. My energy level as well. Life is fun and new and revolves around a squirmy, smiley, leaky little human. At least for now. While the world hasn't stopped turning, and being me hasn't gotten any less complicated, I'm grateful to the shitty economy and a lifetime of saving money and my wonderful partner because for the next many weeks, my world, my being Jen CAN revolve around Ginger. At least as much as I want it to.

Yes, I sound like a new mom "oh, my baby is beautiful, want to hold her?" and "Having a baby is like nothing else," and "If you don't have kids, you just can't understand!"

OK, I'm not actually saying that last statement, and I hope to never even suggest it.

In fact, I wanna try to convey to anybody who dares to read this here blog (Ross's dad agrees with friends' description of me as a sometimes too-much-information girl) just what the experience has been and is for me.

Let's see if Ginger lets me be at the computer for more than 15 minutes a day. Which, as it turns out, is enough to check my email, plan to read some of it later, stalk a few friends on Facebook and update my status. But so far, it's not enough to write a story for money (1 story in 15 days!) or do a daily blog post.

Oh, I hear Ginger now. Time for boob!

Or bouncing.

Ginger the adorable blob

Ginger is sleeping.

Thankfully, while she is still in the "blob phase" (affectionate term for the first four-to-six weeks, before babies smile or otherwise acknowledge our existence for anything other than food/diapers/burbing) she is not likely to roll out of the rocking chair I laid her down in.

Being a responsible new mom, I placed the soft dog bed and a blanket next to the chair -- just in case!

About the blob phase: I find it rather cute. She is needy, yes, but I seem to suddenly LIKE needy. Ross has returned to work (after two weeks of Ginger) and I am mostly on my own while he is gone, say, from noon to 6pm or later. On my own might include an outing with another mom, or a visit by baby-wanting friends, so I have support and even extra hands. But while I'm in the house, in between visits, we are alone.

Which means that if I don't bathe before Ross leaves the house, I have to time my quick-fast personal hygiene regimen around Ginger's feedings and nappings. As of this week, she is not likely to fall asleep unless she is attached to my body. Which is cute... but challenging, especially if I want to do the dishes, fold the laundry (again, Mom, THANK YOU for the washer and drier!), answer the phone that is across the room, etc. Ginger has gotten wise to the trick of allowing her to fall asleep and then setting her down. She can tell the difference between my body heat and the bed/bassinet/etc. But if I wait long enough (patience, I'm still learning patience) she's zonked enough to be set down. Carefully. With just the right amount of blanket and pressure.

But really, she remains a blob. A very cute blob. But a blob none-the-less.
About the Blob:
--The blob wants to eat.
--She needs to be burped at least in between boobs, but often during a boob.
--Feedings usually start at one boob and move to the other.
In a very un-bloblike manner, she gets too excited during most feedings and pops off the nipple, bounces her head around like she can't find the nipple again (even though it's poking her cheek or popping in and out of her perfect leetle mouth), and screws her face up to squawk her frustration. I have learned that Ginger needs to be pulled away from the boob, possibly she needs to burp, or simply she needs to reboot. So I get her up to my shoulder, pat with seriousness, and re-align her. Feeding commences, Blob returns.
--An effective feeding reduces her to a drunken, very blob like mush.
--Before the "milk drunk" hits, she might release the nipple, coo a bit and even place her upper arm on top of the boob, as if she is preparing to rest her weary head on her arm. A deep sigh and a lazy smile would go well with this pose.

Did you know that when a newborn nurses/hits the bottle, her body immediately gets to work on a bowel movement?

Yup. Which means changing a diaper right before a feeding is less than efficient or cost-effective.

Newborn bellies can't expand (and by belly I mean stomachs) and they can only hold about tablespoon of milk. So as new volume is added, the body begins the rather complex (this is a new born, remember) process of pooping: pushing AND relaxing! All this takes place while drinking and breathing, all new to a newborn.

Some babies find the process to be challenging, scary and or painful. This will pass... but feedings in the early weeks can be challenging.

Thus far, feedings have been pleasant, entertaining, and only in the middle of the night are they ever annoying.

'Course when I wake up at dawn and my boobs are hard, leaking and feel like needles are coming out of the nipples, feeding her is anything BUT annoying. It is a huge relief.

Ginger is a star

We have a mellow, sweet-smelling, energetic little girl on our hands. She likes to sleep (even at night), loves ceiling fans and squawks when she tires of whatever view we have pointed her at. And she lets us know exactly when she wants the boob. Which is a often.

She is also a star of pretty much a daily photo shoot. I have sent this link out to friends and family (it will be friends-of-family safe, where this blog rarely is). I'll upload photos to it, while not daily, certainly frequently.

And I'll be back in action on the blog starting this week.

The two week mandatory chill period is nearly over! I've only cheated a few times: Saturday afternoon we three went to a BBQ/B-Day party for Michael and were happily surrounded by five young families. Baby Nikko, Tullulah and Ari were all there (recall the pregnants? We are all moms now, and many of us were in attendance.) Giacamo (six years old this week) arrived later as well, with his lovely 'rents.

Needless to say, Ginger was a hit. My friends all repeating ad infinitum how much Ginger looks like Ross. (Later that night, Ross made sure I wasn't upset by the constant comments about her having his nose, mouth, cheeks. I assured him I couldn't be happier with how she came out.)

Speaking of coming out: there will eventually be more info on the blog about the birth, the decision to go to hospital, the drive home, the healing process, etc. I want to make sure to not only record what this amazing but somehow familiar experience has been like, but to provide some of the less-discussed details of the aftermath of birth.

Because I experienced pregnancy with a close group of like-minded and not at all shy friends, I was able to ask each brand-new mom very direct questions about her experience, regrets, memories soon after giving birth. I benefited greatly. And I'd like other preggos to benefit from my (and our) experiences as well.

Also, I can't help myself! I don't call myself "Too-Much-Information Girl" for nothing. It's like my super power... to tell you way more than you wanted to know -- but to keep you coming back for more. Or at least checking back occasionally to see if I've cleaned up my act or am still intent on curling the toes of

Of course, there will be loads of "oh my god, Ginger projectile vomited today and it was SO cute!" posts as well. And photos of Ross and Ginger being cute. I am a new mom, after all, armed with a digital camera and a relatively fast dsl connection.

As you can see below (That's Fanny, having freshly delivering food to the hungry new 'rents, we allowed her to hold Ginger. Who could tell she is not currently planning to procreate, and did not approve!), we like torturing the baby. Passing her around to friends is one form of torture that we like. More on this later.