Just to give you a time reference, it was probably about 11:00 am when the anesthesiologist left the room. I had already started having contractions when he came and by the time he left, they were spiking pretty regularly on the computer monitor. We watched in awe as the printout showed them coming every few minutes. (I smile proudly now as I think about the pain that I missed because of the epidural.) The nurse arrived with a tray of approved snacks and I snagged a container of Jello and chowed down. I’d eaten a dry English muffin for breakfast knowing the hospital wouldn’t allow me to have anything other than clear liquids until after the birth, but that wasn’t much compared to my standard pregnancy diet. I was starving!
For several hours I rested, attempted sleep, watched television and even entertained guests. Brian’s mom and aunt came by for a little while and we chatted about the events of the day. A little past lunchtime Brian’s dad came by to see how we were. The two of them ran down to the cafeteria to grab a burger and while they were gone I slept some more. At some point, the nurse arrived and said she was concerned about my oxygen level, so she gave me a mask to wear. Several times during this span of time, both my doctor and nurse came in to check my progress. This went on until right about 3:30 pm.
The next time Pam, our wonderful delivery nurse, came in to check me she prefaced her exam by saying that my doctor was making his afternoon rounds and wanted her to check me one last time before he left. Neither of them thought I’d be ready to deliver until later that day. However, upon finding that I was undeniably ready to go, she quickly ran to tell him and began prepping both the bed and room for delivery. In an almost Transformer-like movement, my bed morphed into some kind of sterile, baby-catching apparatus. Multiple puppy training pads (hey – that’s what they looked like to me) were placed under me and then both Brian and Pam helped my legs into the stirrups.
TMI alert… This is when it gets really personal.
Pam’s hands were covered in gobs of what looked like petroleum jelly as she coaxed me into my first push. Between pushes, she used the jelly-like product to lubricate and stretch. We watched the monitor as each contraction ramped up like seismic waves of an earthquake. When we could tell another was coming, she would start counting down. I tried hard to keep my shoulders back as I leaned into each one. Pam instructed Brian to count to ten for every push and then we’d breathe. Meanwhile, my doctor arrived, still in his tropical shirt and chinos, and did a little dance as he layered the blue, sanitary covering over his street clothes. I enjoyed seeing his excitement, but hoped that this enthusiasm meant he really knew what he was doing.
Up to now, the lights in my room were fairly dim, relaxing, if you will. Once Dr. Hall arrived he took a seat on the rolling stool in front of me and asked Pam to turn on the lights. Two huge spot-light like instruments that had been hidden in the ceiling until now shot on and bathed us in a clear, clinical light. Dr. Hall continued encouraging me to push until he noticed something on the monitor and stood up. He pointed at the spikes from Finnegan’s heart rate and explained that he was a little concerned at how they looked. Looking back at me, he said it was time to use the vacuum extractor.
Until you’ve actually seen this “Vacuum Extractor” it sounds pretty menacing. Brian and I had, thankfully, seen it during our childbirth class and knew what to expect. It doesn’t look quite as uncivilized as it sounds. It’s basically a large plastic suction cup with a handle attached. The doctor uses it to add just a little bit more support to the mother’s pushing.
Once Dr. Hall placed the extractor on Finnegan’s head, I went back to pushing. Because it was vital that we move quickly, the doctor instructed me to push for two counts of ten each contraction. So while Brian counted, I pushed then took a quick breath from the oxygen mask and went right back into the next push. It didn’t take long at all (maybe two more pushes) for Finn’s head to emerge. I felt a *pop* and then immediate relief from the pressure and I remember thinking how odd it was to feel that since I was still numb from the waist down. There were a few quick movements to extract anything from the baby’s nose and we went right back into the next push. Before I knew it, Dr. Hall was telling me to stop pushing because the chord was wrapped around Finnegan’s neck. With lightening quick speed, he unraveled the chord and I regained momentum. The very next thing I knew, I felt more relief and our baby boy was out.
Of what I remember from that day, the few minutes after he emerged are the clearest. Finnegan was immediately wrapped in a blanket and placed on my chest. Pam and I used the blanket to wipe him clean while he screamed his little lungs out. It was quite a feeling to hear my son’s voice and see his face after waiting so long to know what he’d be like. I examined him from head to toe, counting ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Dr. Hall showed Brian where to cut the umbilical cord and then applied a plastic clamp near his little navel. We wrapped him up to keep him warm and I tried to calm him by talking to him.
Brian was furiously snapping photos while I spoke to Finnegan, telling him that he was going to be ok now and that we were his mommy and daddy. I saw Brian choke back just a little and then I remember feeling sick to my stomach. I believe the next thing I said was, “I’m going to throw up!” Brian frantically searched for the barf bag and Pam scooped Finn up and took him to the warmer. Dr. Hall, who’d been finishing the clean-up efforts, suggested I might need more oxygen, so I grabbed the mask and sucked it in. After several gags, I started feeling better.
Once I recovered, I looked over and saw the nursery assistant talking to Finnegan as he lay in the warmer. She was attempting to get his footprints, but he was kicking her so much that she had more ink on her scrubs than on the paper. She laughed and commented about how active he was for a newborn and Brian and I looked at each other in disbelief. Once she was done, she handed a little wrapped boy to his daddy. Brian spoke softly and told Finn that he was glad he was finally here. His eyes watered as he told him how happy he was to finally meet him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Six months later, I’m still in shock. For weeks after Finnegan’s birth, I kept telling Brian that I couldn’t believe I’d actually done that. I read in one of my parenting magazines that it can take up to 12 weeks for a woman to fully realize that she did indeed deliver her child into this world. What an amazing experience! I find that I can’t think about that day without feeling several emotions… Happiness because Finnegan is here, he’s healthy and he’s beautiful; sadness that I can no longer protect him in my belly; and fear that I won’t do everything right to keep him safe and free from pain. However, I also feel love, so much love that I can barely contain it. He is, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me (followed ever so closely by my meeting and marrying Brian – the love of my life) and I wake each day thankful and happy to have such a wonderful family to spend my life with.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Hello all and Merry Christmas! As you now know, we're keeping our family stories and updates posted here to share with all of you. We welcome your comments, suggestions and any variation of the two. Please keep in touch - we love you all!
And now for your reading pleasure, I have written a tale that takes us back to July...
Jennifer's Birth Story
Introduction written by Brian Martin
When Jenn showed me the story she had written about her labor experience, it prompted me to write one from my perspective (it will be coming soon). Her story captures the incidents and emotions of the day from a first time mother’s point of view. It’s wonderfully written, and a pleasure to read. But don’t take my word for it; here is what others had to say:
Edie Bradford – United Daily Press – “It’s wonderfully written and a pleasure to read.”
Leonard Ziegler – Tallahassee Temple Tabloid – “I love a happy ending, great narrative.”
Marcia Mahoney – Middletown Publishers – “A tale with humor and a positive message. It made me want to go get pregnant right now!”
Part I
Honestly, I’m not quite sure how you’re supposed to start a birth story. I imagine it should start with a proper warning to all first-time pregnant women or women expecting to become pregnant. Not this one. My birth story is mild, very mind indeed compared to the hundreds of horror stories that I heard throughout my pregnancy. For some reason women love to spread the joy, or terror as it were in my case, to any expecting woman they know. For many of them, I have to think that they believe it’s just a rite of passage, a passing of the torch, putting the fear of God (literally) into those who are fortunate enough to be within earshot. Thankfully I’ll have a happy ending for all my friends and co-workers. For my story is the best birth story I’ve ever heard. And I’m blessed to be able to tell it to you…
It was the middle of July, 2008 and I had a baby cooking… still. The doctor had projected our due date to be on or around July 14th and, well, it was July 17th when I said to my doctor (at our regularly scheduled weekly appointment), “Please tell me to meet you at the hospital in 15 minutes, that I’m ready to deliver anytime now.” To which he replied, “No, not today, but maybe tomorrow if you’d like to have an induction.”
I have to preface the next few thoughts with the recollection that I had been determined, no, dogged about the fact that I did not want to be induced. It was one of my ‘resolutions’. These were, to me, clear-cut no-nos for my birth. I wanted my delivery to be exactly as I envisioned, with no significant alterations to the plan. However, when you lay there, feet in stirrups, four days overdue, baby getting bigger every second, no significant progress on your own, in Florida – in the middle of the summer, thinking about your options and your doctor says, “If you choose to, we can get this baby out tomorrow”, the thought, “F-I-N-A-L-L-Y some relief” floats through your mind and you wonder… “Would it be so terrible?”
The alarm went off at 3:45 am on July 18, 2008. The doctor’s office had given us a yellow sheet of paper with the instructions to call the hospital at 4:00 am for further direction regarding the induction. I dialed the number and was told to arrive at 5:00 am to process my check-in paperwork. The two of us stood there, looking at each other. I don’t think either of us gave it this much thought, but we were indeed going to have a baby that day! I decided to take a shower before gathering the last of my must-haves for the hospital. We’d packed so many bags that we’d had to shuffle them around and now we had dedicated “birthing bags” and “recovery bags”. I threw some clothes on, we fed the animals, checked the nursery one last time (perfection!), I slipped my feet into my comfortable Crocs and we were out the door.
Fifteen minutes and a stop at McDonald’s later, we arrived at the hospital. Processing the necessary paperwork, adding me to their system, and paying our hospital co-pay didn’t take long at all. Before I knew it, we were being escorted through the hospital to Labor and Delivery. Brian and I were both quite familiar with this floor. We’d completed our birthing class, which included a tour of the floor, several weeks earlier. Finally we arrived at the nurse’s station and introduced ourselves.
Our delivery room was nice. We had, of course, seen these rooms during our tour, but I’d always wondered which one would be ours on delivery day. It seemed odd to finally know where Finnegan was going to be born. This was it! We would meet our firstborn, our son today. The uneasiness and fear of this day that I had carried for so long seemed to temporarily subside because of all the excitement. I was instructed to change into hospital gowns, the nurse left for a few minutes and when she returned we started filling out more paperwork. Eighty-seven signatures later and we were finally done. That’s when the really fun stuff began!
I hate needles! I think I always have. I turned my head as she initiated the search for a vein in my wrist. I remember thinking to myself that I had assumed the IV would go in on the top of my hand. I feared this wrist placement was going to feel more awkward than I had anticipated. A few seconds later and I had my IV. I remember the first bag of liquid was cool but after that I don’t remember feeling it anymore. Two fetal monitors were placed on my abdomen – one that allowed us to hear Finnegan’s heartbeat and the other to keep track of any contractions. Hearing his heartbeat was nice. It was the first time we’d heard it and it sounded like a galloping horse.
The thing that surprised me and still stands out the most when I remember that day is how difficult it was to go to the bathroom! My bed was literally five feet from the toilet. Yet wires, chords and IV lines kept me from moving that short distance without a huge production. Brian helped, but oh my goodness was it a pain in the butt! I knew that as long as they kept pumping me full of fluids, this would continue. Each time a bag would empty, the nurse would add another. It was an infinite cycle of irritation. Other than that though, I felt good. I tried to relax, knowing that as soon as my doctor made his rounds, I would be in actual labor.
Around 8:30 am the doctor came. He ordered the Pitocin, checked for progress and in the middle of telling me that he would be breaking my water, he did. A rush of warmth filled the bed. It wasn’t as disgusting as I had anticipated but I was also fortunate enough to know it was coming. (I still fear a future child will leave me quivering and wet in the corner of Target’s shoe department.) Now I was wet AND scared. Not only was I in the hospital, with IVs and monitors strapped to me, but my bag of water had just been broken and soon contractions would begin. I feared the absolute worst! What had I done? I was laying there thinking about my no-turning-back-now situation when the doctor asked if I wanted an epidural…
Here we go again with my ‘resolutions’. I had preached the entire pregnancy about how I wanted a totally natural childbirth and how awful it would be if I were forced to succumb to any type of anesthesia. I had argued with women who preached about how wonderful their epidurals were and had honestly not even paid attention to that part of our childbirth class. I knew it wouldn’t happen during my labor and I had confidence in my body and the natural ability to birth a child.
Blah blah blah!
The next time I had to go to the bathroom, this time dragging multiple monitors, an IV stand, AND wearing soaking wet socks, I agreed to the epidural. It wasn’t the contractions that finally wore me down. It was the gross factor. Go ahead – roll your eyes. I admit it.
Just before the doctor left, he reminded me, “If you want it, it could take up to an hour for the anesthesiologist to arrive, so request it now.” I requested the epidural and within minutes a man in a white coat arrived, pushing a cart. I’m here to tell you that it is indeed true what they say about anesthesiologists. At least it was for the one who came to my delivery room. He had absolutely no personality, unless you consider smug arrogance qualities of a good bedside manner. I was terrified! The thought of a needle being inserted into my spinal column (or really REALLY close to it) was disturbing enough without the added worry that this guy was too consumed with himself to pay attention to his job.
As he handed me a stack of papers to sign, he clicked a switch on the bottom of my bed and I began to rise toward the ceiling. I finished skimming the documents, signing my life away again and remember mentioning to Brian something about dental work and its supposed interference with an epidural. I still don’t know how that relates. Anyway, there I was, high in the sky and he’s telling me to sit up and lean forward. As I frown at Brian, who’s standing there ready to catch me if I fall off the bed, I mumble something about where am I possibly going to lean to? I had a giant basketball under my gown for God’s sake! We struggle to get the birthing ball under my arms and I do my best at bending over. The next thing I know, the doctor is wiping my back with something cold and asking me to remain completely still. Here it comes…
It was absolutely the oddest sensation in the world. The only thing I can relate it to is the time I tried touching the prongs of my Easy Bake Oven plug with the tips in the socket. I felt a shock and then warmth all at once in one single location on my back. The shock then traveled up my spine for just a quick second and then nothing but cold. His grand finale – surgical tape. I kid you not when I say that I was still taking tape off my body twelve weeks after Finnegan’s birth. The tape ran from the point of entry (way down low) all the way up to my shoulder. I guess he didn’t want me calling him back to say the line had come out. Actually neither of us wanted that. Just before he packed up and left, he handed me my very own magical button. It looked like a doorbell with a nice big red button in the center. I don’t remember ever putting it down, but I suppose I probably did sometime later that day. I didn’t feel my legs again until 9:00 that night.
And now for your reading pleasure, I have written a tale that takes us back to July...
Jennifer's Birth Story
Introduction written by Brian Martin
When Jenn showed me the story she had written about her labor experience, it prompted me to write one from my perspective (it will be coming soon). Her story captures the incidents and emotions of the day from a first time mother’s point of view. It’s wonderfully written, and a pleasure to read. But don’t take my word for it; here is what others had to say:
Edie Bradford – United Daily Press – “It’s wonderfully written and a pleasure to read.”
Leonard Ziegler – Tallahassee Temple Tabloid – “I love a happy ending, great narrative.”
Marcia Mahoney – Middletown Publishers – “A tale with humor and a positive message. It made me want to go get pregnant right now!”
Part I
Honestly, I’m not quite sure how you’re supposed to start a birth story. I imagine it should start with a proper warning to all first-time pregnant women or women expecting to become pregnant. Not this one. My birth story is mild, very mind indeed compared to the hundreds of horror stories that I heard throughout my pregnancy. For some reason women love to spread the joy, or terror as it were in my case, to any expecting woman they know. For many of them, I have to think that they believe it’s just a rite of passage, a passing of the torch, putting the fear of God (literally) into those who are fortunate enough to be within earshot. Thankfully I’ll have a happy ending for all my friends and co-workers. For my story is the best birth story I’ve ever heard. And I’m blessed to be able to tell it to you…
It was the middle of July, 2008 and I had a baby cooking… still. The doctor had projected our due date to be on or around July 14th and, well, it was July 17th when I said to my doctor (at our regularly scheduled weekly appointment), “Please tell me to meet you at the hospital in 15 minutes, that I’m ready to deliver anytime now.” To which he replied, “No, not today, but maybe tomorrow if you’d like to have an induction.”
I have to preface the next few thoughts with the recollection that I had been determined, no, dogged about the fact that I did not want to be induced. It was one of my ‘resolutions’. These were, to me, clear-cut no-nos for my birth. I wanted my delivery to be exactly as I envisioned, with no significant alterations to the plan. However, when you lay there, feet in stirrups, four days overdue, baby getting bigger every second, no significant progress on your own, in Florida – in the middle of the summer, thinking about your options and your doctor says, “If you choose to, we can get this baby out tomorrow”, the thought, “F-I-N-A-L-L-Y some relief” floats through your mind and you wonder… “Would it be so terrible?”
The alarm went off at 3:45 am on July 18, 2008. The doctor’s office had given us a yellow sheet of paper with the instructions to call the hospital at 4:00 am for further direction regarding the induction. I dialed the number and was told to arrive at 5:00 am to process my check-in paperwork. The two of us stood there, looking at each other. I don’t think either of us gave it this much thought, but we were indeed going to have a baby that day! I decided to take a shower before gathering the last of my must-haves for the hospital. We’d packed so many bags that we’d had to shuffle them around and now we had dedicated “birthing bags” and “recovery bags”. I threw some clothes on, we fed the animals, checked the nursery one last time (perfection!), I slipped my feet into my comfortable Crocs and we were out the door.
Fifteen minutes and a stop at McDonald’s later, we arrived at the hospital. Processing the necessary paperwork, adding me to their system, and paying our hospital co-pay didn’t take long at all. Before I knew it, we were being escorted through the hospital to Labor and Delivery. Brian and I were both quite familiar with this floor. We’d completed our birthing class, which included a tour of the floor, several weeks earlier. Finally we arrived at the nurse’s station and introduced ourselves.
Our delivery room was nice. We had, of course, seen these rooms during our tour, but I’d always wondered which one would be ours on delivery day. It seemed odd to finally know where Finnegan was going to be born. This was it! We would meet our firstborn, our son today. The uneasiness and fear of this day that I had carried for so long seemed to temporarily subside because of all the excitement. I was instructed to change into hospital gowns, the nurse left for a few minutes and when she returned we started filling out more paperwork. Eighty-seven signatures later and we were finally done. That’s when the really fun stuff began!
I hate needles! I think I always have. I turned my head as she initiated the search for a vein in my wrist. I remember thinking to myself that I had assumed the IV would go in on the top of my hand. I feared this wrist placement was going to feel more awkward than I had anticipated. A few seconds later and I had my IV. I remember the first bag of liquid was cool but after that I don’t remember feeling it anymore. Two fetal monitors were placed on my abdomen – one that allowed us to hear Finnegan’s heartbeat and the other to keep track of any contractions. Hearing his heartbeat was nice. It was the first time we’d heard it and it sounded like a galloping horse.
The thing that surprised me and still stands out the most when I remember that day is how difficult it was to go to the bathroom! My bed was literally five feet from the toilet. Yet wires, chords and IV lines kept me from moving that short distance without a huge production. Brian helped, but oh my goodness was it a pain in the butt! I knew that as long as they kept pumping me full of fluids, this would continue. Each time a bag would empty, the nurse would add another. It was an infinite cycle of irritation. Other than that though, I felt good. I tried to relax, knowing that as soon as my doctor made his rounds, I would be in actual labor.
Around 8:30 am the doctor came. He ordered the Pitocin, checked for progress and in the middle of telling me that he would be breaking my water, he did. A rush of warmth filled the bed. It wasn’t as disgusting as I had anticipated but I was also fortunate enough to know it was coming. (I still fear a future child will leave me quivering and wet in the corner of Target’s shoe department.) Now I was wet AND scared. Not only was I in the hospital, with IVs and monitors strapped to me, but my bag of water had just been broken and soon contractions would begin. I feared the absolute worst! What had I done? I was laying there thinking about my no-turning-back-now situation when the doctor asked if I wanted an epidural…
Here we go again with my ‘resolutions’. I had preached the entire pregnancy about how I wanted a totally natural childbirth and how awful it would be if I were forced to succumb to any type of anesthesia. I had argued with women who preached about how wonderful their epidurals were and had honestly not even paid attention to that part of our childbirth class. I knew it wouldn’t happen during my labor and I had confidence in my body and the natural ability to birth a child.
Blah blah blah!
The next time I had to go to the bathroom, this time dragging multiple monitors, an IV stand, AND wearing soaking wet socks, I agreed to the epidural. It wasn’t the contractions that finally wore me down. It was the gross factor. Go ahead – roll your eyes. I admit it.
Just before the doctor left, he reminded me, “If you want it, it could take up to an hour for the anesthesiologist to arrive, so request it now.” I requested the epidural and within minutes a man in a white coat arrived, pushing a cart. I’m here to tell you that it is indeed true what they say about anesthesiologists. At least it was for the one who came to my delivery room. He had absolutely no personality, unless you consider smug arrogance qualities of a good bedside manner. I was terrified! The thought of a needle being inserted into my spinal column (or really REALLY close to it) was disturbing enough without the added worry that this guy was too consumed with himself to pay attention to his job.
As he handed me a stack of papers to sign, he clicked a switch on the bottom of my bed and I began to rise toward the ceiling. I finished skimming the documents, signing my life away again and remember mentioning to Brian something about dental work and its supposed interference with an epidural. I still don’t know how that relates. Anyway, there I was, high in the sky and he’s telling me to sit up and lean forward. As I frown at Brian, who’s standing there ready to catch me if I fall off the bed, I mumble something about where am I possibly going to lean to? I had a giant basketball under my gown for God’s sake! We struggle to get the birthing ball under my arms and I do my best at bending over. The next thing I know, the doctor is wiping my back with something cold and asking me to remain completely still. Here it comes…
It was absolutely the oddest sensation in the world. The only thing I can relate it to is the time I tried touching the prongs of my Easy Bake Oven plug with the tips in the socket. I felt a shock and then warmth all at once in one single location on my back. The shock then traveled up my spine for just a quick second and then nothing but cold. His grand finale – surgical tape. I kid you not when I say that I was still taking tape off my body twelve weeks after Finnegan’s birth. The tape ran from the point of entry (way down low) all the way up to my shoulder. I guess he didn’t want me calling him back to say the line had come out. Actually neither of us wanted that. Just before he packed up and left, he handed me my very own magical button. It looked like a doorbell with a nice big red button in the center. I don’t remember ever putting it down, but I suppose I probably did sometime later that day. I didn’t feel my legs again until 9:00 that night.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Milestones - an update from Jennifer
Finnegan has met several milestones this month. One of them is rolling over. He loves to be on the floor where he can reach for his toys and drool on them. We lay him down on his back and he flips onto his tummy within minutes. For quite a while he grabs at things and tries to move, reaching out and kicking his legs as if he's trying to crawl. Once it's apparent that he's not going anywhere though, he's done with that. We then help him back onto his back and he's content for a few minutes more before he rolls back onto his stomach. It's a never ending cycle at this point, but before long he'll be rolling back and forth on his own.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Recent changes in the Martin household
I was thinking today of how much change has occurred with us in such a very short time. I thought back to June when I had written this, but hadn’t sent it out ~
There have been galactic levels of change in the Martin household in the last few months! The never-ending/ever-growing Project/Task list has had me working my fingers to the bone. Really, next update I’ll send a picture of my boney fingers. The changes are not only mere upgrades to the house, but also in our lives as we prepare for the arrival of our son. As the baby gets bigger, Jenn is moving slower and her comfort level drops. Some time ago I had to put a stepstool next to the bed, because our bed is too high for Jenn to get into without it. At night, my poor wife wrestles not only with the pillows, but also her frustration as she tries to find a comfortable position. One evening I swear she had 97 pillows on the bed! She had arranged them in a fashion that held her in a position not unlike the Apollo astronauts preparing for launch.
The changes in Jenn have not been limited merely to physical ones. And I’m to the point now where I think I should be concerned. My beautiful wife has always been… (how can I put this nicely?)… a little high-strung when it came to messes. Whether it was little or big, she couldn’t be calm if we had a messy house, or a house with a messy room, or a room with a little mess in it, or the knowledge that there was something not completely in order in a box, in the attic, behind a bunch of other boxes, which no one would ever see anyway. I’m telling you now, that there has been a shift in the natural order of things, a change has occurred on the molecular level. The only other explanations would have to be that aliens abducted my wife and replaced her, or that she’s possessed. She’s not spewing green vomit and spinning her head around, but I’d be lying to you if I said I hadn’t thought of calling Max Von Syndow to come over and have a look. A couple of days ago Jenn made a hand motion while holding a small package of some form of bite sized coated yogurt snacks. This motion flung several pieces onto the couch. Several times this week alone I have been witness to my wife sitting in the recliner with some sort of food. After hearing her say “Whoops”, I’ll look up to see her gazing down trying to find the grape, or forkful of Mac & cheese, that she had just dropped. Sometimes the dog is quick enough to scavenge what’s dropped. Sometimes she’s not. But if Jenn can’t immediately see it, I guess it’s gone as far as she’s concerned, not even a wince or a second thought. I take that back, there was a second thought, she told me that if I smelled mold that I’d have to clean the chair. Believe me; I’m not waiting for anything to grow in my furniture. Once she leaves the area, the proper remediation is started!
Well, for documentation purposes, I need to announce that Jennifer has returned to a version more like her pre-pregnancy self, at least where messes are concerned.
There have been galactic levels of change in the Martin household in the last few months! The never-ending/ever-growing Project/Task list has had me working my fingers to the bone. Really, next update I’ll send a picture of my boney fingers. The changes are not only mere upgrades to the house, but also in our lives as we prepare for the arrival of our son. As the baby gets bigger, Jenn is moving slower and her comfort level drops. Some time ago I had to put a stepstool next to the bed, because our bed is too high for Jenn to get into without it. At night, my poor wife wrestles not only with the pillows, but also her frustration as she tries to find a comfortable position. One evening I swear she had 97 pillows on the bed! She had arranged them in a fashion that held her in a position not unlike the Apollo astronauts preparing for launch.
The changes in Jenn have not been limited merely to physical ones. And I’m to the point now where I think I should be concerned. My beautiful wife has always been… (how can I put this nicely?)… a little high-strung when it came to messes. Whether it was little or big, she couldn’t be calm if we had a messy house, or a house with a messy room, or a room with a little mess in it, or the knowledge that there was something not completely in order in a box, in the attic, behind a bunch of other boxes, which no one would ever see anyway. I’m telling you now, that there has been a shift in the natural order of things, a change has occurred on the molecular level. The only other explanations would have to be that aliens abducted my wife and replaced her, or that she’s possessed. She’s not spewing green vomit and spinning her head around, but I’d be lying to you if I said I hadn’t thought of calling Max Von Syndow to come over and have a look. A couple of days ago Jenn made a hand motion while holding a small package of some form of bite sized coated yogurt snacks. This motion flung several pieces onto the couch. Several times this week alone I have been witness to my wife sitting in the recliner with some sort of food. After hearing her say “Whoops”, I’ll look up to see her gazing down trying to find the grape, or forkful of Mac & cheese, that she had just dropped. Sometimes the dog is quick enough to scavenge what’s dropped. Sometimes she’s not. But if Jenn can’t immediately see it, I guess it’s gone as far as she’s concerned, not even a wince or a second thought. I take that back, there was a second thought, she told me that if I smelled mold that I’d have to clean the chair. Believe me; I’m not waiting for anything to grow in my furniture. Once she leaves the area, the proper remediation is started!
Well, for documentation purposes, I need to announce that Jennifer has returned to a version more like her pre-pregnancy self, at least where messes are concerned.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Negligent in my correspondence & updates
As my lovely wife has pointed out, I'm far behind in my updates, but I'm rockin a plan (set forth by said wife) to play catch up on the last trimester/my traumatic experience of birth/and all the wonderful things that have occured in the first few months of Finn's life!
Finnegan's arrival has completely ... made me lose track of my thoughts ... and mostly when I'm talking to people I'd like to impress. I'll find myself speaking to the Executive Director and I'll have the attention span of a gypsy moth. Sleep has been a much treasured commodity in the Martin household, and as in these economic times, there is not much treasure to go around these days. On second thought, I take that back. There is a lot of sleep happening under our roof, but it's concentration is mostly in the nursery, and not much in the other bedroom. ...zzz..zzz..z.. SEE! Just there! I'm so tired right now I'm falling asleep at 8:17pm. I hear that the nights are coming where the boy will sleep through. I'll believe it when I see it. That's why it feels as if time is going by so fast; sleep deprivation.
But I wouldn't trade it for the world!! We've got quite an amazing little blessing in our family, that we are thankful for everyday! I can't tell you how wonderful it is when this baby smiles at you!
Back to work already
A note from Jennifer:
It's totally unbelievable that Finnegan is already 11 weeks old! He's grown so much (12 lbs, 12 oz at last week's Dr.'s appointment). Each day he does something new - we think he might roll over soon. He's smiling and cooing and he loves watching Baby Einstein. We continue to look forward to all the fun we'll have once he starts moving around. However, I know this time is precious and I'm enjoying every moment that I can.
The day I've dreaded for some time has finally arrived - I started back to work yesterday. Even though I'm only working part-time, it's still hard to be away from Finn. I'm continuously thankful that he is with his grandmother instead of some stranger or in some strange facility.
Brian is already working on a holiday newsletter that will incorporate the rest of the pregnancy (aka Tales of the Expectant Father) and fill in the gaps since Finnegan's birth. So many of you asked where the rest of the Martin Baby Updates went that Brian finally got the hint. I'm still trying to get him published somewhere...
That's it for now. Much love to you all!
It's totally unbelievable that Finnegan is already 11 weeks old! He's grown so much (12 lbs, 12 oz at last week's Dr.'s appointment). Each day he does something new - we think he might roll over soon. He's smiling and cooing and he loves watching Baby Einstein. We continue to look forward to all the fun we'll have once he starts moving around. However, I know this time is precious and I'm enjoying every moment that I can.
The day I've dreaded for some time has finally arrived - I started back to work yesterday. Even though I'm only working part-time, it's still hard to be away from Finn. I'm continuously thankful that he is with his grandmother instead of some stranger or in some strange facility.
Brian is already working on a holiday newsletter that will incorporate the rest of the pregnancy (aka Tales of the Expectant Father) and fill in the gaps since Finnegan's birth. So many of you asked where the rest of the Martin Baby Updates went that Brian finally got the hint. I'm still trying to get him published somewhere...
That's it for now. Much love to you all!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
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