In praise of slings

This post brought to you by Peanut Shell. That's the brand of the "fashionably functional baby sling" I'm wearing right now and in the photo, which was taken during the inaugural use of the sling at a posh winery event we went to with Richie over the weekend where it drew almost as much attention and comments as the baby himself.

We've just discovered that Richie finds it irresistible. It looks uncomfortable and squishy for him, but pop him in there, and he's snug as a bug in a rug and good for hours of sleep and hands-free activity for Mom. Sure my back will probably pay the price when he gets heavier, but for now I can take the 8 pounds dangling around my midsection.

In the last two days, I've discovered that I can type, cook, eat, empty the dishwasher, put out the laundry, use the toilet (sorry to be blunt but it's true), and even blow dry my hair with him in the sling, and he'll sleep right through it. All of these activities are of course much harder if not impossible with one or two hands needed for holding and consoling a fussy baby.

Slings have been around for ages and supposedly work by simulating the cozy environment of the womb and keeps baby close to the heart. All good things, but this newer, snazzier version has added padding where you need it and a handy pocket and clip at the front for a pacifier, cash, keys, etc. and is reversible so I can wear it with the pretty pattern on the outside, but Paul can wear it with the plain purple side out. It weighs next to nothing and has no buckles to adjust or irritate you.

I have to say it is my favorite thing of late and has revolutionized my days at home with the little guy. Not to mention the ability to pop it in the diaper bag and pull it out while shopping or use it for a walk without having to get out the stroller. I highly recommend it and would welcome any freebies for endorsing this product!

Photo shoot

I'm on a roll today with Richie napping away happily as I type so I'm posting some more photos just because I can and who can resist more baby photos?

1. "Don't make me wear the bucket hat Auntie Susie." Even though it does go well with his oh-so-cute outfit. Maybe when he's a little bigger.
2. Richie in his first non-pajama/footed outfit (note that he has bare feet because his feet are so narrow that not even the smallest baby sock or bootie will stay on more than 5 minutes, which is why he normally wears footed pajamas as "daywear" and a nightgown at night).
3. "The ransom will be one MILLION dollars..." Richie aka Dr. Evil.

Catching up

Ok, I've been lax again at updating but we've had family visiting (thanks Sue), I've been sick with a stomach virus (try that while breastfeeding, it's really fun) and we had a major earthquake here in Hawke's Bay (which then had a front page news story on how Richie handled it, BTW). I'll try to get a link or post the story later.

In the meantime, I know what you really want is more pics so here goes.

1. Richie being an angel during his first trip to a restaurant so mom and Aunt Sue could have a nice lunch.
2. Playing his first game. I call it hit the horsey for lack of a better term.
3. Richie and Aunt Susie, he'll miss her terribly.
4. First family trip to the beach. It was windy so he spent most of the time in Daddy's jacket.

Early days

Ok, so now that the long story of the birth is out of the way, we'll get to what most of you friends and family visiting this blog are after: pictures of the little one. Here are a few from the first days in the hospital and coming home:

Demostrating the "milk drunk" look


Showing off his right hook


Father and son on a lunch break


Looking dapper for the ride home from the hospital


Finally home to a typically sunny day in Hawke's Bay

Right on time

Ok, so maybe I was a bit harsh in my previous post. Turns out this baby might have promise as a journalist after all. Little Richie came right on time at 12:15pm on Friday, August 1st 2008 (that's 01.08.08 by how they tell dates in NZ), which was the original due date given to me by my doc based on the old fashioned calendar method.

I wish I could say the birth was everything I hoped for, but as often happens it was mostly everything I feared. But the end result was worth it, a healthy baby boy. For those who want to know the details of the birth read on. If not have a look at the obligatory mom looks like crap after no sleep for 24 hours but isn't the baby cute pictures and skip to the next post.

As I mentioned, I was one of the lucky ones who had labor pains for weeks with Braxton Hicks contractions throughout the 3rd trimester. Starting on Wednesday 30 July, I started have much stronger and regular ones, which kept me wondering "is this it?" But as everyone says "you'll just know when it's time," and that proved true in my case.

I woke up at midnight on Friday with much sharper pains that took my breath away and they were coming about every 7-10 minutes. I told Paul this was it and to get ready. I was hoping to stay at home at least until dawn. So we got out the physio ball and I tried rolling on that during the contractions, we went to the living room and tried watching a "That 70's Show" DVD and finally we hooked up the TENS unit Paul got from work. By 4am they were about 5 minutes apart and we had a 30 minute trip to the hospital ahead of us, so we decided to leave.  We had the baby's car seat all set up in the back seat, but Paul had heard in our prenatal class that many women end up on all fours in the back seat for the trip to the hospital so he took it out and cleared it out for me. I told him he was being silly but sure enough there I was moaning crawling around in the back seat of the Nissan on the expressway with Paul going about 120 km/hr. I vaguely remember telling Paul that being in labor is a bit like being a schizophrenic because you are two totally different people during a contraction (bellowing, moaning lunatic) and between contractions (your normal self). 

 

We made it to the hospital at about 4:30am and I went into the birthing pool (basically a round bathtub) to wade out the contractions (ha, pun intended). I made it to about 5cm dialated without any drugs for pain relief but then when the doctor examined me at about 7:30am he told me that the baby was in a posterior position (facing forward rather than my back so the baby's spine is in line with mine and puts pressure on the spinal cord), which means that the delivery would be much more painful and probaby require assistance. The added bonus of a posterior position is that you get excruciating back pain in between the excruciating contractions so with the prospect of at least another 8 hours of labor without break, I said "epidural please."
Even that ended up taking a while to get right but thank goodness I got the epidural when I did because by 11 am the baby's heartbeat started dropping and the doctor brought in a specialist to consult on whether this baby would be able to be born vaginally. They put a scary looking oversized oxygen mask on me to get more oxygen to the baby and decided to let me try pushing for about 15 minutes with the aid of a vacuum device. That didn't work so after much rushing about they rushed me to theatre (Kiwi speak for operating room). By this time there were about 10 people involved (my GP, 2 residents, the OB chief, 2 midwives, etc...) but I distinctly remember that with all these people around it was Paul literally running down the hall and pulling me in the bed with him to the OR (bless him). He used to work at this hospital so he knew the way and didn't want any delays!
Then it was time for a flurry of consent form signing, and they were going to try a forceps-assisted delivery but in the end opted for a C-section after yet more adjusting of my epidural. Within a few minutes we heard a wail and they showed us a very healthy looking boy over the screen (the first thing remember thinking was "I think that's penis" before they told us it was indeed a boy). Paul's first words were a sailor's rendition of how large he thought the baby was, which I won't repeat here.
I was unable to hold the baby for skin to skin contact while they sewed me up so they gave the baby to Paul who held him under his scrubs while sitting next to me. A few minutes later, the anesthesiologist said "what's going on here?" and everyone in theatre started laughing. Turns out Richie initiated Dad with a huge black, tar-colored poo that went right down his shirt, down his pants and on his arm. Dad hadn't even noticed! He had to hit the showers big time as soon as they moved me out of the OR.
Richie was weighed when we got back to the room and came in at 7 pounds 8 ounces, but I contend he was a full 8 pounds before the poo.
So that's the story. It wasn't what we planned but in the end we got what we came in for and a couple good stories to torture Richie with in the years to come