daddy's girl

It is already apparent that Madeline will be a daddy's girl; she and her father already share so many similarities. I can't wait to see this little baby grow into a girl and then a woman. I hope we do a good job at raising her. With all the love she receives I know that she will be ok. There is nothing quite like a daddy's love!

5 Months

The Cookie Carnival | Silly Symphonies

Simpler, more delicious times.

This little place I call home

This place I call home

Madeline: Three Months

My darling daughter,

You came into this world when you decided you were ready, setting the tone for your character early on. You are a serious baby, with a studious, observant face and huge blue eyes. You are now starting to smile, although they are still few and far between making them that much more precious.

                                                                Photo by Antoinette Jolie

You love to be held, preferring to be "en brazo" than in your swing or on the bed. Tummy time on your daddy or me is a wonderful occasion, and are those little moments that we treasure greatly. You have a particular favorite position which we call The Baby Dangle, which you scoot into automatically; your mouth within reach of the boob, and your feet dangling adorably on the other side.

                                                                Daddy & The Baby Dangle

We are starting to use a sling and a carrier with you, and you are much enjoying the walks we take along with the dogs up into the back hills. You fall asleep almost immediately, lulled by the constant movement, your cheek resting above my heart.

                                                         Afternoon walks in the hills

You have quite the appetite, guzzling your Jaramillo soup with much gusto and then letting out a burp or two that would rival Homer Simpson's finest burp. This appetite of yours has helped in fattening you up from a scrawny little 4lb 7oz guppy, to a hefty, chunky legged baby cherub. We love those little thunder thighs of yours, and it looks like you might grow up to have mamas thighs and butt (it's a whole package, as one of your junk in the trunk tia so often mentions).

                                                          Drinking your Sopa Jaramillo

Everyone that meets you falls in love with you, and how can they contain themselves? You are a beautiful, sweet child, easy going and mild; except when you are hungry or have a wet nappy. Then all hell breaks loose and we are witness to a pair of lungs that can rival Pavarotti.

                                    Sucker stayed in approximately 3 minutes before you spat it out

Every day that goes by we see you bloom like a carefully tended flower. Our nervousness about and around you has abated as you have gained weight and filled out wonderfully. We thank our lucky stars each day that goes by to be in your presence and to have the good fortune of being your parents.

Love always,

Mama

Madeline my heart: emergency c-section and premature delivery

Things don't always go according to plan. You can plan and imagine and program all you want, but sometimes things don't go according to what you envision or wish.

Case in point: the final trimester of my pregnancy. I was just over 32 weeks pregnant when I started having contractions and abnormal bleeding. Some might blame the game of frisbee I played at the beach, or the fact that I spent half of December puking/barfing/pooping/gorging/shopping for ten straight hours, or the pissed off fibroid that decided it HAD HAD ENOUGH. Either way, I hurried off to the hospital in Panama City where I was put under observation. My contractions and the babies heartbeat were monitored. I was indeed having contractions, these were no Braxton Hicks, but I wasn't dilated so I was given medication to stop the contractions and two injections of steroids as well as SIX WEEKS OF BED REST. Old-school bed rest, i.e., no getting up and wandering about, no exercise, no sex, and absolutely no ten hour shopping sprees. Laying in bed like an 18th century consumptive waif.

I spent a week in bed before I started getting contractions again. Strong contractions, intense contractions that refused to desist. I took the medication that the doctor prescribed, I took a nice warm, relaxing bath, I laid still, nothing worked and the contractions only increased in frequency and intensity. After eleven hours of contractions off to the hospital, again.

Strapped into the monitors once again, fetal and contractions. This time I was dilated 2 cm and was the deciding factor in having an emergency c-section, which came as an absolute shock and surprise to me. It was very cut and dry, decided without much of my input (and really, what COULD I say? Can you maybe just stitch me up down there and be done with it? I promise I will lay in bed like an invalid, pinky swear).

I was prepped for surgery and within an hour was wheeled into the OR. Gave me just enough time to text some family and friends, barely holding myself together. My little tough mama was by my side the entire time and was the one to check me into the hospital as my husband had gone back to Penonome earlier that week. Once hubs got the message that I was in the hospital, he left in a hurry back to the city, but was caught my heavy Sunday traffic, so was unable to be in the OR with me (and even if he had been in the city, he would not have been allowed in the OR given that it was a premature delivery and hospital rules dictates that no one can be in there other than the doctors and nurses).

I was to go through the process alone.

At that point I disconnected from the scene. It was like a movie, nurses and doctors in green scrubs, anesthesiologist placing the epidural, strapped into the cross so I wouldn't flail about, the sheet separating me from the grizzly view enfolding beyond. I was terrified, too scared to cry, just had to bite my lip and deal with it (how do women DO it? Do it all?).

After some pushing and shoving, Madeline Anne was brought forth into this world on January 13, 2013. She wailed the moment they pulled her out, all 4lbs 7oz of her. She was not shown to me until after the neonate doctor checked her vitals, but I could see her out of the corner of my eye. My baby, my child. A single tear escaped the confines of my eyes and were the only tears I shed until after I was discharged from the hospital.

Madeline was born six weeks early, at 33 and a half weeks of age. She was born healthy and didn't require oxygen or anything drastic, just a bit of phototherapy as she was jaundiced. She suffered some bruising on her face from the force of pulling her out of my abdomen. She looked like a mini-Rocky. The doctor told us not to get our hopes up; that she'd be in the NICU for at least two weeks minimum. This filled our hearts with dread and dashed our hopes of leaving the drama of the hospital behind. Hospital life is no fun.

As the days progressed we saw how strong our little champ was, despite being in an incubator with cables and tubes criss-crossing her little body. She had a healthy appetite, was quite aware and active, and was not suffering from any infections. We were allowed to visit her from 8am-12pm and from 5-8pm. I was not allowed to hold my baby until the third day and I think this was probably the hardest thing for me. Caressing and speaking to her through the incubator was not enough. I needed to know what she felt like, what her hair smelled of, the warmth of her skin...

Nothing compared to the moment when the doctor finally allowed me to hold my little baby: she was tiny! Tiny but perfect, a miniature version of her father. The NICU nurses taught me how to feed, hold, bathe my baby. Lots of care was needed, lots of love and patience. We were completely nervous but also desperate to take our baby home and after six days we were allowed to do so.

It was akin to a miracle. From a two week minimum stay in the NICU, she was discharged after only six days. What a little champion! What a tenacious fighter!

Madeline Anne came home with us on January 19th, 2013 and ever since then we have been on the amazing, exhausting, incredible journey called parenthood.

Sixty Day Countdown

Finally got around to having the 4D ultrasound on Baby Winstead. It was AMAZING! What wonderful, informative, re-assuring technology. Dr. Villareal in Punta Pacifica Hospital was incredibly thorough, detailed, and knowledgeable. His office was rather large and accommodating  with a 60 inch LCD panel where you could see every little detail of the baby. He checked every bit of the baby including her lungs, heart, feet, fingers, nose, palate, placenta, umbilical cord, basically everything, searching for genetic markers and anomalies. Thankfully, the baby is doing perfectly well, she's even a little on the gordita side (we can probably blame the mother for her love of all things icecream, chocolate, and sweets, *ahem*). 

We were finally able to get a nice, good look at her face, even though she did NOT make it easy for the doctor to get the money shot, so he had me lay on my side in order to see her face. In general, she was really not up to getting her pictures taken, as her hands and umbilical cord were blocking her face, but with much insistence from the doc, he was finally able to get a close up. 

Blowing Kisses

Baby toes!

Yes, she has a darling little button nose that is definitely not from my side of the family. We believe it to come from her father's mother side, as all the women tend to have that cute, sloped nose. We can't wait to nibble and kiss it (and squeeze boogies out of it, as well, let's be realistic here). It looks like she is blowing us kisses in this shot, and isn't that a rather sweet sentiment? 

Back when we did the 4D ultrasound (about a month ago) the baby was not only NOT in the correct birthing position, but she was in a breech position with her feet in front of her face (much like a Yogi). We had another appointment with the OBGYN and were able to confirm that she has since accommodated herself accordingly (head facing down), so we will hopefully have a natural birth experience (with much screaming, grunting, begging and pleading involved).

How am I doing? Well, if I complained about the size and girth of my belly before, I take it ALL back. I am now rather huge and bumbling. Getting my big butt out of a low seated area requires major concentration, effort, and um, help. Yes, if you see me sitting and helplessly looking about for something to grab on to, please offer the assistance of your hand or arm; The Preggo could greatly use it just to get up. Sometimes I feel like a turtle on it's back, flailing about, hoping someone will pity it and flip it on to it's legs again. 

I do waddle when I'm unawares, so maybe I should just accept that I waddle and be done with it. I AM PREGNANT AND I AM WADDLING MUCH LIKE A PENGUIN. It is not gracious but then again, pregnancy is not about grace, is it? I have never seen a pregnant woman balance a book on her head while she (gracefully) waddles. I guess we will have to wait and see how Kate Middleton does it. 

I have of late become lactose intolerant due to the pregnancy. Those of you who know me and my love of all things milk based will be made aware of this slight humiliation at every passable moment. I love milk, I love cheese, I love yogurt, I love ice cream and everything milk based, so this is awful for me. Hubs has promised to fill up my plate with veggies, but who in their right mind wants veggies when ice cream is what they really and truly need? Don't give me that nonsense! The only stuff I crave is man made, delicious, and terribly bad for you all at the same time. 

The heat is also killing me. Panama IS a hot place, but having an extra 40 lbs to lug around, is like strapping an Easy Bake oven to your midriff and carrying it about. Hot, hot, and hotter. I think the closer I get to my delivery date, the less clothes I will be wearing. It's summertime right now, but in my opinion there is far too much sun and way too little summer breeze. I never knew what boob sweat was all about until now. Hello boob sweat. You suck. Also, can you get me another blouse from the closet? I have sweated right through this one. 

There are plenty of other indignities during pregnancy, but if I were to share them with you you'd probably never want to go through with any of it and then I'd get blamed for the end of the human race, and that's not the kind of responsibility I want. Suffice to say your body goes through a whole lot of changes, as does your brain, your mental state, your emotional state, everything is changed. Some of it will go back to how it was before, while some of it will never, ever be the same. I am ok with this. I am not only OK with this, but I welcome it. I have lived selfishly for myself for 28 years. It's about time some little person came about and slapped me with reality. 

P.s. Was watching Toddlers and Tiaras (for shame! Blame it on being preggo and with a stomach flu!), and I couldn't help but find some of it really cute, and some of it really disturbing. I think the low key parental approach was rather the normal way to take it, but there were some serious, over the top parents that need to tone it down a notch. Please remind me to never, ever place my wee little girl in a pageant. 

P.p.s. How were your holidays and New Years? I ate far too much ham and turkey and deliciousness, and then got a stomach bug for two weeks on and off. Wonderful way to greet 2013, huddled over the toilet and wishing you had never had that ill fated second bowl of cereal.