14 in 2014

Breaking news: you gain weight when you’re pregnant.

And on that matter, when I first started going to my prenatal visits, my doctor told me I shouldn’t gain over 10 kilos. I’m calculating this in my head…10×2.2…22 pounds…that’s it?!? Dude, have you ever been pregnant? I kept it pretty reeled in for the first five months gaining only 5 or 6 pounds that whole time…then month 6 hit and all was lost (or gained). I started gaining 2 or 3 pounds a week and that whole “22 pound total” dream of my doctor was passed by at an astonishing speed.

I ended up gaining just over 40 pounds, probably the majority coming in November and December where I might as well have had a dump truck of food going directly into my mouth. I was unstoppable, and uncomfortable and hormonal. What a blissful balance. And you can bet that dollar I didn’t care even a little, tiny bit about laying in bed and eating double-stuf oreos…at 11am. Give a woman 6 weeks off before her baby is due and this is what happens. Thanks Chile…really. Thank you. It was a paradoxical time in my life of self-loathing and utter bliss.

Once I had Joaquin, I dropped 26 pounds without even trying in a period of a month. I have now slowly come to terms that these last 14 pounds aren’t just going to “drop”. They’re going to be stubborn, annoying and ugly little pounds that will kick and scream to stay on, as much as I would just like to ‘wish’ them off. Back to work…outs.

So, my goal for the rest of the year is to get rid of those “didn’t-get-the-message-that-I’m-not-pregnant-anymore-and-don’t-need-this-extra-weight” pounds. I was just gifted a new wardrobe of new running clothes for the upcoming Chilean winter. I think me talking about how much I needed to start exercising again to my family got the good word in that that’s all I really wanted for my birthday. They take hints so nicely.

Now that I have a small human to care for, finding time to exercise will be more challenging that before, but not impossible. Jogging strollers are out considering the sidewalks in Chile are like the road to Mordor, so Andrés and I will have to have some tag team running sessions and then maybe keep the sitter at our house for an extra hour once I go back to work so I can get my endorphins on. Because happy mommy=happy baby.

This is my shameless losing weight post because if I make it public, it will be harder for me to back out of. How all the great athletes get in shape.

Joaquin Wesley

Well, it’s been a good two-three weeks since I’ve posted. I have a good excuse, I promise….

Him:

IMG_4559Joaquin Wesley was born on December 28 at 11:30am. He’s pretty much the most perfect thing I have ever took part in making.

He is 8 days old today, and every day is different…but the same. New babies don’t do too much, but what they do know how to do, they do well. Andrés had been peed and pooped on probably about 20 times. Since he’s the best husband ever, he is usually changing the diapers. He actually says that he wants to change the diapers…who says that? I of course say I will help and do it too, but he’s insistent. I’m a lucky lady.

Joaquin came fast and furious (at least faster and furious-er than I was expecting) after about a week of false labor. I had nothing nice to say that last week of pregnancy, hence my hiatus from writing since December 17. Christmas was…uncomfortable…but we were still able to celebrate with Andrés’ family on the 24th and then just he and I on the 25th.

On Friday the 27th I was going through false labor all the live-long-day after being checked by the midwife in the morning. My blood pressure had gone up and they were talking about inducing on my due date, the 30th. I was bummed. I was even more bummed that the false contractions weren’t turning into anything interesting, just a big fat pain in the neck. Andrés and I walked a ton that day. We walked a mile to lunch, and later that night we walked to a park and watched about 25 dogs play with each other. There was a very badly-behaving pug that would pee on anything, especially other people. We figured out who his owner was and she was totally ignoring him and pretending like she wasn’t in charge of him. After getting home that night, I was still feeling very discouraged because the contractions were continuing but they weren’t painful and they were all over the place with the timing.

We went to bed around 12:30 and Andrés was trying to comfort me as I was upset thinking that I would end up having to be induced because of my BP and infinitely rising my chances of ending up with a cesarean. I was also fed up with the false labor. Andrés had fallen asleep and I was still awake, and had even started to cry, when at about 1:00 I felt a weird contraction. Weird in a way that it felt different than all the other ones I had ever felt. 7 or so minutes later I felt another one, then another, then another. They were more painful and much longer than before, and after about the 5th, I started timing them. Around 2:30, Andrés woke up because I was moving around so much. I told him not to get his hopes up, but I had a feeling that these were the real thing.

Around 3am they started getting more painful and closer together. I took a shower, then a bath, then another shower. The pain was manageable when I remembered to breathe calmly and not freak out. I was ready to get out about 5am, and the contraction were coming every 3 or 4 minutes. I called my midwife about then and she said that I should go in as I had been in active labor for a few hours. Some contractions later bent over the sink and the dresser, we had gotten everything together and headed to the hospital. It was a Saturday morning at 6am so no traffic, thank goodness. Contractions strapped into a chair are no joke. I think I had four or five.

We arrived at the hospital and made it to the first exam room to get blood work done and another lovely internal exam, and I thanked them by vomiting in their trash can. The on call nurse kept leaving and coming back because who knows why and every time she’d come back in the room I’d be standing and breathing over the exam bed. She said every time, oh are you having a contraction? No lady, I’m meditating. Come on over and poke me with more needles. It’ll be like acupuncture. Plus, they welcomed me into their room by making me wear the most attractive mesh underwear and some kind of ridiculous slip-over-your-head-apron-gown that covered absolutely nothing. I was ready to get the h-e-double hockey sticks out of there. But it was at that point where I conceded to the fact that a lot of strangers were going to getting a front row viewing of my lady parts, and I started to not care because I would rather have that happen than die a contracting death.

By the time they wheeled me into the room where I’d be delivering, it was about 7:30. They immediately strapped external monitors on me to see how the baby was doing, and at that point I could not take another contraction lying down. Though I was under the impression that I was going to be able to move freely, it wasn’t the case and I said, screw it, give me the drugs. I made it 8 hours, 5 centimeters and 1 episode of vomit before I asked for the epidural. Other than impossibly holding still while I got a needle shoved into my spine, I say it was a good decision. I could tell Andrés was pretty concerned over the amount of pain I was in and didn’t say no when I told him I wanted pain relief.

Things moved pretty quickly after that. I was still able to walk, and later my water broke and about every hour I dilated another centimeter or two. By 11, my midwife said it was time and 50 people came in the room and decided to join the party. My doctor literally walked in with a cup of coffee in his hand, looked down there and said, yep, I’d say it’s time. I didn’t even know how to react to that. Everyone got in their cute blue scrubs while I’m just hanging out for the whole wide world to see only thinking…can we get dressed faster? Can the small talk wait until after the baby has come out of my hoo-ha and my lady parts are covered up?

My bed transformed into a crazy superhero birthing bed with arms and legs (or something like that). Doctor got positioned and I got nervous. 3 contractions, 7 pushes and one evil episiotomy (grrrr) later, Joaquin Wesley made his appearance into the world and our lives changed forever.

IMG_4511I won’t say that the first week was easy, but I will say that it is getting easier. I feel like we know 200x more than we did 8 days ago, but there’s still so much to find out. He is a very well-behaved baby, only crying when his diaper is being changed or we take his clothes off and he get’s chilly. He’s eating better every day and sleeps like a rock (takes after me).

It’s hard to believe that we made him (with a crazy ton of God’s help), that he came from me and Andrés’ love for each other. I’m still having a hard time grasping that. We are so thankful for him, for his health, his demeanor, his beauty. We can’t wait to see what his personality will be like, who he will take after in certain things, his strengths, weaknesses, his likes and his dislikes. I try very hard to enjoy this stage, though it’s been hard because it’s very tiring. I know they are small and babies for such a short amount of time, and I have to catch myself not looking too forward to the next stage because I will never get this one back.

A note on his name: Joaquin was chosen as a last minute-ish change. We had originally decided on Samuel, but we liked Joaquin because of its uniqueness and also, I just think it sounds cool especially with his last name. Wesley was chosen for my grandfather, and man I (and Andrés) respect and honor very much and who has played a huge role in my life since I was a baby.

Keep impressing us little one –

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