Safe and Sound and Thankful for Fate

The end first: unplanned pregnancies and broken arms save lives.

Like many runners who weren't in Boston today, I spent a good chunk of my day thinking about the marathon. I was wishing I was there. I was able to watch chunks of the live coverage on the BAA website and check on the progress of people I knew who were running. The weather was amazing. My friend Lauren was, despite her recently busted up arm, keeping a great pace.

In the chaos of getting out of the house this morning, I left my cell phone home so I wasn't able to text Lauren my good wishes along the way. Instead, I sent her a series of emails that I knew she would get after the race. They went like this:

10:22 AM: Just watched your wave start… Didn’t see you but SO excited to know you are doing it RIGHT NOW!

10:58 AM: You ran your first 5K at 8:21. Wowza! I’m sure you are getting this eons after your finish. But you know, I am living it NOW!

11:23 AM: Way to go! Your 10K pace is great, too! 8:34 I hope you are enjoying it all and soaking up the adoration of the fans!!

11:45 AM: You are so totally rocking this race. Wish I was there! 8:32pace at 15K. You are so freaking amazing!

12:26 PM: Your half marathon time is fabulous! I am annoyed that I have to go work lunch duty and I can’t keep an eye on you! GO GO GO!

1:07 PM: You just  passed 30K and I can totally feel your pain. (Well, not really, but I can imagine it!) You’ve got this. You are STRONG!

1:58 PM: Oh, baby. I can only imagine how you are feeling just this very second! I hope your systems are going strong and you are feeling the energy of the crowd. YOU ROCK and YOU ARE BADASS!

2:21 PM: Way to go, Lauren!! I can’t believe you finished the Boston-Freakin’-Marathon just weeks after a broken arm. So happy for you. Hope you are consuming copious amounts of delicious food and feeling wonderful about your blazing pace. Yaaaay team!

Obviously, all this seems trivial now. Just a half hour or so after I wrote that last message... and just FIVE minutes after Lauren left the finish area, all hell broke loose. 

I learned about the tragic events just as we were pulling into karate around 4PM. Without my cell phone, I was stuck without a way to check in with Lauren and get updates. I caught pieces of the news from the AM station that was playing in the weight room of karate and it kept sounding worse and worse. And of course, it was.

When I got home I rushed to my phone to call Lauren. Of course, there was no cell service going in or out of Boston. Then I texted her and checked her FB page. Smart girl, she posted an "I'm okay" message. 

Then I started reading all the Facebook posts about the marathon. Many of my friends and family wrote to me to say that even though they knew I wasn't there, they were thinking of me. My sister wrote on my wall: "More than thankful for Gabe today... xoxoxo." Huh? It took me a minute to get it.

She realized before I did that Gabe was probably the main reason I wasn't running the race today. The summer of 2011 I was on FIRE, running-wise. I was healthy, I was motivated. I was poised to PR in a fall marathon.  I was going to qualify and run Boston. And, of course, my finish time would almost assuredly have been about the time of the explosions.

But then there was a night of an anniversary and maybe a bit more wine than is advisable.... And then there was Baby TOP - Totally On Purpose. 

Of course, so many factors could have changed the events. I may not have ever qualified for Boston. If I did, I may have decided not to run. Or I may have run in 2012 (the year of 6 billion degree weather). But, with Baby TOP (Gabe), all that speedy, hardcore running went on hold. No qualify. No run. No being in harm's way.

Likewise, Lauren's  broken arm may have saved her family from being hurt. They had originally planned to all make the trek to Boston for the race. Her husband and boy-girl 9-year-old twins would have been waiting for her at the finish line. 

But, she broke her arm in February. Boston was off. The trip was cancelled. No husband and kids at the finish line. 

And as we know, she rocked her recovery and made the trip to Boston anyway, but it was too late to make arrangements for the whole family to join her.

So, if you're ever not sure why things happen that disrupt your path, wait awhile. Maybe a few months. Or maybe 9 months + one year. And maybe you'll never know. But try to remember, there's certainly a reason.

I am wearing my marathon shirt to work tomorrow.

Totally on Purpose: ARRIVAL!

Welcome Gabriel VanScoy Giessler!!

Saturday, April 14, 2012

1:59PM

7lb 4oz, 19 inches



About 90 minutes after delivery. Neither of us were dressed yet and I'm still wearing the blood pressure cuff! Swwweeeet boy in my arms and amazing Dad in the background.



My, oh my... I have a 9 day old person at my house! I have been totally lax in the blog department. Haven't even, in fact, been reading other blogs. I am thinking this is one of those times in life when a lady gets a “pass” on the blog thing. I'm still not up for telling the whole birth story but I do have plenty of items that I can cut and paste from emails and FB posts that give you an idea of how things have been going. I LOVE that the hospital had wifi and I had Scot's iPad to stay connected during my short stay there.

FB post, April 15, early AM, at the hospital:

This is one lucky baby with one lucky mama. There's power in that FB love! Thanks, everyone! Going home late this afternoon.

FB post, April 18, at home, kind of wiped out:

Something witty about baby poop, no sleep, staggering milk jugs and hilarious newborn facial expressions. (I need to outsource my updates for awhile... Got nothin' in the clever well.)

With this great response from my FB friend, Dede, (who totally gets me!):

I've got your back.....some whit in "your" voice....

Oh, the stinky of baby's moved bowels,
Which isn't as stinky and isn't as fowl,
As that of the husband's, whom my baby resembles,
Forgive me I'm tired and trying to assemble,
My thoughts, which are fuzzy for much lack of sleep,
So pardon my mumbles, and pardon my peeps,
I am trying to be witty and trying to be funny,
And looking for more... than just dreaming of running,
So for all of my neighbors and family and friends,
Know that the B-TOPS blogs have come to an end,
But never you worry, and never you fear,
I am so glad that Gabriel is FINALLY here!

*take a bow, then a nap* ♥

A sweet poem/email from the dear Willie Mork, an almost 90-year-old friend from The Village Players:

Clean out of myrrh and frank insence

But sending, herein, compliments

And love, to welcome to our throng

Another laugh. Another song

Congratulations and love

An FB Good Night Moon tribute from my sister, Heather:

Good night, Phoebe. Good night, breast pads. Good night, little man who wants what under those pads. Good night, brothers. Good night, Gungah. Sleep is happening now... xo Aunt Heather

My first straight up funny postpartum FB post. I'm actually pretty proud of it!

Really out of touch with the news lately... And on a completely unrelated note, Scott said last night that he's looking into shifting his career toward the Secret Service. Something about the culture and atmosphere fitting well into this personal life goals. I'm sure there's no cause for alarm...

The woman without whom I would not I have survived... Gungah and Gabriel, 2 days old and home! Oh, how I miss her.



First family photo. (Ignore the date in the corner... Mom's camera is apparently a time traveling device!)



Heartbreak Hill!

The finish line is not quite in sight, but I'm thinking I've reached Heartbreak Hill. Here's where we are Baby TOP-wise.

Midwife appointment today. She was FAR more sympathetic to my desire to get the kid out than I thought she might be. I expected, "Well, we have to be patient with him. He'll come when he's ready." But what I got was, "I cannot BELIEVE that you're still pregnant!!"

She, of course, was up-to-date with my uterine events of the last week or so and had assumed we would be squeezing TOP in our arms by now. She immediately offered to swipe my membranes and see if she could stretch my cervix a little. (Very pleasant sound, eh?) I said, "yes" of course. (And it wasn't that bad... not a party, but certainly not labor-equivalent!)

She said I was starting at about 2cm but she got me to 3 and that I was 50% effaced. And, as I knew already, baby's head was way, way waaaaay down. (Yeah. I know!)

In addition, she scheduled me for inducement on Monday. Her opinion is that I won't need any pitocin or other drugs: they can break my water and I'll just go. Her opinion, however, is that I'm going to have him on Saturday.

When she swiped me before Elliott was born I was in labor within 24 hour.... So, I'm feeling like a won't make it to Monday. Much as I'd love to have him on Patriot's Day (Marathon Monday, the same Monday Tommy was born....) I would be MOOOORREEE than happy to have it before.

Scott needs his computer back. I'm going to post this super quick. LOTS on our calendar in the next couple of weeks which makes all of this really really interesting.... More latteeerrrrr.....

Totally on Purpose: Too much belly business

So, I sit here with a one-day old person inside of me. I cannot believe how susceptible I was to thinking that this kid was going to be early. "Everyone" I know has been telling me about their kids coming 2 or 3 weeks early. That and the idea of full term being anything past 37 weeks sucked me in. I know there's no way to know when a kid is going to decide "it's time"... but I convinced myself this was going to happen early.

Monday night and Tuesday were pure hell. I have been having pretty steady Braxton Hicks contractions right along for a few months. They have really kicked it up a notch in the last couple of weeks. (You'll recall that last Wednesday they were so convincing and regular that we went into the hospital). On Monday night at about bedtime I was having a different kind of contraction that made me feel nauseous. Instead of in my lower abdomen they were up high and coming every couple of minutes. I couldn't get comfortable and I really really really SOOOO wanted to barf. I was horrified that this was going to be labor for me and I would go through this for 10 or 12 hours.... normal birthing pains are bad enough but the urge to purge makes me completely lose my ability to think and behave rationally.

Scott got a hold of the on call midwife at a little after 10PM. I explained what I was feeling, my concerns about living so far from the hospital, my earlier trip to the hospital last week, being 2 - 3 cm dilated.... I knew right away that she was doubting I was in labor, especially when I told her about the french fries that I had for dinner. (They were SO good but the smell of the cooking oil lingered in the house and it was making my stomach even more agitated). She recommended I take a bath, take some Tums, some Benedryl... see if I could get comfortable and not to worry, "if it's really labor they won't go away."

So, I got myself in the tub, Scott managed to track down Tums from Gungah (sorry to bother you, Gungah!), and got out the Benedryl for me. I did not, though, take the Benedryl. I didn't quite understand the purpose of it, other than to get me to go to sleep, and it makes me sooooo dopey. All I needed was to add dopiness to my already out-of-body-out-of-control feelings. Right. No, thanks!

Scott was in a no-win situation, of course, as is often the case for the Daddio in this scenario. He wanted to help. I wanted him to help. I had no idea what he could do. DON'T touch me. But DON'T go to sleep. DON'T talk to me. But DON'T go to sleep! DON'T ask me what I want... I have no idea. Poor guy had to go to work the next morning, too.

I made it through the night with on and off sleep and lots of trips to the bathroom. The cramps/contractions/barfy feelings persisted on and off. On Tuesday morning I was completely wiped out. I probably got off of the couch 5 times (only to pee) from 7:45 until 4:00. And then I went to my bed and slept there. Mom brought me ginger ale and tea and anything else she could think of that might assist the recovery. Her biggest concern was that I was not consuming any calories and I would not be able to get this kid out if the time arose. I managed a piece of toast with a sliver of peanut butter on it for lunch. At dinner time, I managed to come to the table and drink some veggie broth and be slightly better for the rest of the evening.

My term for the entire day yesterday (including last night when things were better but still not quite right) was that there was "a lot of business going on" in my belly. Kind of disconcerting to have so much action from so many sources: TOP and his already ADHD bounciness, Braxton Hicks, regular contractions, and exquisite cramps from your normal everyday upset stomach. How's a gal supposed keep track of which is which and what to worry about???

I am very glad to report that I slept fairly well and feel completely better today. Oh, except for this 7 - 8 pound free loader, of course. This morning I ate toast and raisin bran (lost 2 pounds yesterday despite Gungah's best efforts!). I cleaned the kitchen (even mopped!), vacuumed and dusted the living room and dining room.... I felt very bad that Gungah was the Mama to the boys yesterday so I am trying to make up for it today. She'll be on her own with them for real... SOME day!

Totally On Purpose: Messing with Us Edition

(This is largely a load of blather, but I promise there's a pretty amusing punchline at the end....)


Monday: Ültrasound in the morning showed all was well with the baby.  Came home from a busy day, including a volunteer stint with Tommy's class.  Had some bleeding. Not a ton but not the friendly "bloody show" one looks for. It was kind of bright red. Called my Midwife's office and was told to "watch it" and let them know if the bleeding continued or if contractions became regular. Bleeding stopped and no regular contractions. A full night's sleep...

The boys came barreling downstairs Tuesday morning to my bed and Elliott asked (in all seriousness), "Did you have the baby last night? Is he here??" Note to self: explain to Elliott that Mom and Baby won't be home the next morning if the baby comes in the night.

Tuesday evening: Busy day of messy domestic activities "sure to bring on labor" since abandoning mid-project would leave utter chaos in my wake. Made Tacos for dinner (yes, I hear you all suggesting Mexican food, believe me!) and began work on a little project for Tommy's class. Then... oh, more bleeding! Also bright red but also not a ton. Some contractions. Off to a church meeting where I (stupidly) declared, "I think I'll go home and have a baby." Got home and called the on-call Midwife (Erica... LOVE her!) and she is also "not in love with" my bright red bleeding but is not ready to panic. We decide I'll call her cell phone if more bleeding occurs or if contractions become regular. And I double check: ANY contractions or just intense ones? She says any flavor, if they are regular, buy me a trip to the hospital. She also says she'll be in her office tomorrow if I want to get checked. Go to bed for what I guess will be a couple of hours rest before we head out. Sleep all night.

The boys come barreling downstairs Wednesday morning to my bed and are SO UPSET that I am still around. Nothing like getting greeted at 6AM with "Ooooohhh, man! You're STILL here???"

Wednesday (Yesterday): Midwife Mary (my usual midwife) is not in the office Thursdays so I made an appointment with Erica. Scott wanted to come with me (and I wanted him to come) but things are nuts at school right now and he needs to be there. He will, however, buzz up to Elliott's school and pick him up so that I don't have to go to the appointment alone. Gungah and I go to the office (after getting a little bit lost... as I have never been there) and the baby sounds great. My vitals are great. She concludes that it was probably bloody show after all. Also, I'm between 1 - 2 cm dilated. Well, that's something, at least. Though, as my sister Heather said, "My last baby was 8 years ago and I'M 1 - 2 cm dilated!" Yeah, I know.....

We snag Elliott from Scott's school and head home for lunch. I gather energy for normal household tasks (laundry, dishes, etc.) and then hit the mother of all projects: the play room. I KNOW that if I attempt to tackle that Universe of Untameable Horror there's no way my uterus will let me down. Leaving it unfinished would be the cruelest form of punishment for all involved: Gungah would not even be able to begin to decipher my "organization", the boys would be without a place to play without worrying about pesky rules like "no throwing things in the house" and whatnot, and I would have to face my own disaster after returning home with a teeny baby.

The good news is, the play room is all neat and organized now.

The bad news is, no baby.

That evening, we had an early dinner in town. I began having some regular Braxton Hicks as soon as I sat down but didn't say anything. After 5 or 7 or so of them I asked Scott and Gungah to tell me what time it was when I had them. They were not intense but they were regular. Like 2 - 3 minutes apart regular. And they were regular for over an hour. I had a little bit more discharge (blech! hate that word!) and decided to call the OB on call when we got home.

When the doctor called back (yeah, not a midwife... oh well!) he noted that we live an hour away and that this is baby #3 and... The connection on the phone was not great but I managed to decipher that he wanted us to take a ride over to the hospital just in case things moved along swiftly.We kissed the boys goodbye and were on our way. As we drove over I noticed the contractions were less regular but definitely still happening. When we arrived at the hospital and I got out, they picked up again quite nicely.

The hospital has had a make over since Elliott was born so we were a comical sight trying to figure out where to go.... (it being 7:45PM there were no staff around to point the way...) But we did manage to track down the Family Birth Place. The lovely nurses let me go pee (aaahhhh!) and then hooked me up to the monitor to check on my contractions, the baby's movement and his heart rate....

There was plenty of action with contractions but still nothing that truly hurt. The baby's movement and heart rate were moving along in conjunction with the contractions in such a way that the nurse was very happy.

Enter: Dr. Talks Too Low.

Now, this guy was very nice. I think. And very professional. I think. And very everthing-else-you-want-in-your OB. I think. But. He.talked.so.damn.quietly! (So, uhh, that wasn't a bad phone connection before!) If you don't know me personally you might not know that I tend to be a little bit, ummm, outgoing. Likewise, Scott is ummmm, not exactly introverted. If you went through the list of all the Doctors in all the world I don't think you could find one more opposite-r !

Now, don't get me wrong. I would rather not have a wisecracking medical professional.... at least not one who was cracking-said-wise while I was trying to figure out if I was going to be passing 7 pounds of slimy flesh through my lady parts.... but this guy was about a minus 2 million on the low key scale! He was personable, for sure, in that we had (I THINK!) a conversation about running. And (I THINK!) his son has run the Burlington Marathon a few times. And (I THINK!) he started a Jogger's Anonymous organization, which (I THINK!) was when he and his buddies would feel like taking a run but would go out for beers instead.

Okay, so, he checked my progress and said I was between 2 - 3cm but my cervix had "barely" thinned. He was doubtful (I THINK) that I would be staying the night but said we should take a walk for an hour and see if we could get things moving.

So, Scott and I walked around the hospital. (Totally Dullsville after hours, by the way). The nurses we saw along the way looked at me doubtfully and seemed to be thinking "She's way too happy to be in labor". They were right, of course.

Awhile later I went back on the monitor. Contractions still there but no progress on the dilation front = pack 'em up and head home.

I asked Dr. Talks Too Low for clarification on when we should return. Now, I can't be sure (the closed captioning was still turned off on this guy!) but I am pretty sure the conversation went like this:

Me: "So, if I'm not looking for regular mild contractions, what exactly AM I looking for to head over here again?"

Dr. Talks Too Low: "You shouldn't come back until you can't talk."

Yeah.

I laughed, too.

Really hard.

I know what he meant: I shouldn't come back until I can't talk through my contractions. But it was SOO damn funny that he said that to me, the Chatter Bug Ying to his Silent Sam Yang.

So, I'm going to spend the day today finding ways to make myself speechless. Wish me luck! Better yet, tell me somethin' that'll make me shut my mouth!

Totally On Purpose: "Waiting for Giessler"

Dear Baby TOP,


(Who am I kidding? I'm not writing this to Baby TOP anymore. That would take too much brain power. Here's my verbal diarrhea for the day...)

"Waiting for Guffman" is the best movie ever. Hence the title of this blog post. If you haven't seen the movie and you have any kind of sense of humor (a soft spot for community theater doesn't hurt either) you have to check out this movie.

I don't have a new baby yet. I DID have some, errrr, stuff last night that led me to believe I would have a baby. However, here I am. An ultrasound yesterday shows that all is well with TOP. He's considered small for his gestational age (7lbs) but that's certainly big enough for arrival! My amniotic fluid levels were fine, too, so life is good.

Yesterday afternoon I went into Tommy's classroom to help 6 of the kids write scripts for a project they are working on. It's been quite a while since I've done the Hard Core Teacher Thing. It was fine... I THINK they get the gist of what I was trying to have them accomplish - but it was also good reminder of why my "talents" might lay elsewhere. (Bickering about inconsequential subjects I expected, but I had no idea the talent of time wasting was established so young!)

My leisure time is being spent remembering a seemingly endless list of tasks that need to taken care of... and attempting to get them accomplished. ("Dhuuhhhh, George, do ya think we need to get the car seat in the car?") Also trying to re-arrange some things so we can have baby items at-the-ready. Would hate to be "bored".

The Great and Glorious Gungah has taken some pictures of Team Giessler as we await the arrival of Baby TOP. So, here they are...

39 weeks. Ready. Really really really ready.

Palm Sunday at our church. Some people are so darn talented... we had to take a picture!

Da best! What would we do without Gungah??

Mom worked on making the light better in this photo of Scott. (Here he's taking a picture of one of the boys). We think it's almost ultrasound-esque in style.

He will never have to defeat anyone in karate. They'll just look at him and want to squeeze him!

Tommy found an inner "Handsome Beast" (or "Blue Steel") pose for a series of photos my Mom took. I've NEVER seen him sit so seriously for pictures. Thought he was getting angry but, in fact, he was acting... And finally started to crack a smile with photo number 5 or 6 - here. 

 

 

 

Totally On Purpose: Prepare for your close up edition

Dear Baby TOP,

Today is March 30. You are 38 weeks and 3 days cooked. Anytime now it would be lovely to meet you!

Don't panic. That's not actually you.

My Midwife appointment yesterday scored me an ultrasound for Monday morning. You are moving around like the dickens, my blood pressure is nice and low, your heartbeat is good... so it's almost certain everything is fine and dandy.

But.

My fundal measurement is less than what it was a week and a half ago. This might be because your head has dropped quite a bit (thanks again for that, by the way) but she thought you were really low last week, too.

In addition, the midwife guesstimated that you weigh 6.5 pounds which she felt very comfortable with. She had, of course, not remembered that this was her guesstimate LAST week. I'm not an alarmist but she agreed that it wouldn't be a bad idea to take a peek at you. And so on Monday, we shall!

(And I won't go into a political rant here but given this week's Supreme Court arguments, I just can't help but wonder "out loud": What the heck would I do if this ultrasound wasn't covered by insurance?? I suppose I'd just go without and cross my fingers that things were fine. Eee gads! "Health Care for All" just seems so much more civilized than "Health Care for All Who Are Lucky Enough to Qualify Based on Where They Work or Where They Fall on the Income Scale or...." Whoops. No political rant here. Nope. None at all.)

So, back to my ultrasound on Monday....

This works out pretty well schedule-wise as today is my last Daycare Lady day. Considering how nutty appointments got with Tommy and Elliott right before they were born (and the outside chance that you MIGHT come early) I gave daycare parents the notice about my closing date way back in the fall. This is one job where it's not so easy to tell "the guys at the office" you can't be there! (Babies and little kids are funny and fussy about wanting their diapers changed and the removal of choking hazards and having regular meals and snacks served and whatnot. Nuts, huh?)

By the way, I'm sure you've noticed that I am SOOO happy because Gungah is in town! She is officially here to take care of the boys while Dad and I are at the hospital and help out when I get home with you. Unofficially I think she's here to make sure I have my daily requirement of chocolate. She also adds credence to my observations and head scratches and chortles about life around here. You will learn very soon everything is better when Gungah is around!

One final, cool fateful coincidence that happened yesterday. Tommy had an appointment in Conway just before mine so he came with me to the midwife. This was the first time he's seen Mary since he was about 6 weeks old. But the reunion for 2004 was even more exciting because Betty, the lactation consultant at the hospital, was also at the office for her own medical appointment! Don't tell your big brother this but we needed a LOT of help from Betty when he was born because learning to eat was not something Tommy was great at. So, there we all were again, almost 8 years later. It's meaningless in the grand scheme but I'm taking it as a good sign anyway!

Okay, dude. Dad's super busy this weekend for the State Theater Festival but I would be really happy to meet you anytime you're ready. And imagine the great story Dad will have to tell in years to come if he has to make a dramatic exit from Manchester High School to get to the hospital for your birth! You KNOW how Daddy loves a good story....

I love you and I can't wait to give you a real live squeezes, count your fingers and toes and marvel at your wee little self....

Mom