I had my six week check up yesterday with Doctor Risky. Oh, and in case you were wondering, I got this. Again. *Grumble Grumble* Anyway. I brought Annabel with me because I wanted Dr. Risky and her staff to see the little girl we all worked so hard for. And because I like to show her off because I think she’s kind of adorable. It was great to see them all coo over her. I hope Dr. Risky was proud of how healthy and gigantic Annie already is (up almost three pounds since birth, omg).

My exam went fine, Dr. Risky said I have healed well and she cleared me to resume normal activity. I’m actually kind of looking forward to exercising. Of course, ask me again in the morning when it’s time for me to go to the gym. I’ll be singing a verrrrry different tune. But before I go to the gym I am going back to physical therapy to get my hips and back in a bit better shape. I’m hoping my physical therapist can make some good and easy suggestions to help get me back into shape. Emphasis on easy. Hopefully something involving eating cookies.

Speaking of cookies, there is one thing that isn’t quite right. In the last six weeks, I’ve had to check my blood sugar a few times to see how my body is adjusting to no longer being pregnant. The good news is that my blood sugar after I eat is normal. The weird news is that my fasting blood sugar (my blood sugar when I wake up) is way too high. It should be 90 or below, and it has been 111, 110, 135, 100, and 140. Dr. Risky thought that it is a little weird but she was encouraged that my post-meal blood sugar is at a normal level. But, to be sure, I am going to mention it to Dr. Looove when I bring Annabel in for her two month appointment in a few weeks.

Has anyone else experienced this? I’m not snacking overnight or eating gobs of sugar before bed. I’m hoping this isn’t a precursor to type two diabetes.

I told Annie what was going on and she was like, “whaaaaa?”

I’m glad she’s sympathetic.

Enough time has passed where I feel like I can finally talk about the day Annabel was born. Every time I’ve tried to write about it I haven’t been able to find the words, or the emotions were too overwhelming to work through. But I fear as more time passes I will forget things, and I don’t want that either.

As Mike said, we went in to Labor and Delivery that day because I wasn’t feeling right. It wasn’t anything in particular but a collection of symptoms: a sudden and awful headache, belly tenderness, decreased fetal movement, and just a general unease in my head that I needed to be seen by a doctor. When we arrived at the hospital we were whisked away into a room and tended to immediately. Mike was really certain that we were going to be there for a couple hours and then be sent home. I was less certain but didn’t want to jinx anything either way.

I had a non-stress test that showed Annie was fine, and my urine check didn’t indicate pre-eclampsia. My contractions were minor and irregular, and it was looking like Mike was right, and we’d be heading home. The resident checking on me went to go talk to Dr. Risky, and I sent my parents a text saying everything checked out fine and we’d probably be going home. As soon as I hit send, the resident walked back in with a scrub cap on and said, “So, what do you think about having your c-section this afternoon?”

Everything kicked into high-gear at that point. I called my parents, my cousin, my brother. I tried to send texts to all my friends, but the c-section prep made it impossible. My amazing nurse Helen inserted my IV, did a blood draw, and asked me 1,001 questions while Mike gave me this weird wipe down with sterile wipes. The wipes were FREEZING. Helen checked my blood sugar and it was really low, so she gave me a bag of cold fluid via my new IV. Between the fluids, the wipes, and my nerves, I was shaking badly. And then things got funny.

I started to feel nauseous, so I told Helen as much thinking she could put something in my IV to help with that. She told me to sit back and take some deep breaths. Not hard to do since I was, you know, already laying in bed. This is where things get fuzzy. I THOUGHT I said to Helen that I felt like I was going to pass out, but Mike and my cousin Leah (who had arrived by then) said I didn’t. According to everyone else, I was unresponsive and making guttural noises. The crazier thing is that I don’t remember passing out. I have fainted plenty of times and I remember losing consciousness, but not this time. I have some fuzziness, but as far as I remember, I said I was going to pass out and then I was OK. But, no. Thinking back now, I realize that the room was jammed with people. I remember hearing the doctors and nurses saying my blood pressure (70/40) and that the baby’s heart rate was decreasing. I remember seeing the frightened faces of Mike and Leah, the serious faces of the medical staff, and trying to assure the anesthesiologist that “I’m a fainter, it’s noooooo big deal” while he looking at me like I was a little bit crazy.

The decision was made to move me to the operating room immediately in case I lost consciousness again. In there, the anesthesiologist told me that he wanted to put me under general anesthesia for my c-section. That meant I’d be sleeping and Mike wouldn’t be allowed in the operating room. His reasoning was that he was worried I’d pass out again and he didn’t want to wait to get the results of my blood tests – blood tests that would indicate the safety of being awake for the surgery. Mike and I had always known this was a possibility, but when it was presented to me I looked at Dr. Risky and pleaded with her not to let it happen. If I needed to be put under for the surgery, that was one thing, but if there was a possibility I didn’t, I really wanted to wait and see. She agreed, not only for our sake, but also because general anesthesia complicates things. Luckily, the blood work came back in my favor, and I was allowed to be awake.

I had a lot of time on the operating table while I waited for things to be determined – time where I was alone, since Mike wasn’t brought into the room until moments before the surgery began. I tried to stay calm – Annie’s heart rate was extremely elevated because of the drugs they’d given me when I’d passed out – so I knew I had to keep mine under control to not make things worse. While I laid there, I was greeted with a friendly face. My friend Staci, a nurse and one of my sorority sisters from college, received a text from my cousin telling her I was going into surgery. She hightailed it down to the hospital and made it in time to be there. I was so happy to see her smiling eyes behind her surgical mask. I can’t tell you how much calmer I felt knowing she was there.

The surgery went off without a hitch, and soon the anesthesiologist was telling Mike to stand up and watch our baby be born. I felt all the tugging and pressure, and then a lightness. There was a commotion from all the people in the room, and then I heard a tiny but powerful sound – Annabel’s cry announcing she was here. She sounded exactly like her sister the day she was born. There is nothing – nothing – like hearing your child’s cry, because that means they can breathe. Memories from Madeline’s birth came flooding back, and I realized I was crying. I badly wanted to see my baby, to touch her, and confirm that she was here and she was OK. When Staci brought her over to me, it was magical.

That first touch was so amazing.

Even now, 27 days later, I am having a hard time writing more than the blow by blow of the day. I want Annabel to know how great a day it was. I had been so scared that the emotions would be overwhelming, but they weren’t. I was scared I would be overcome with sadness, but I wasn’t. Not that day. The day of her birth was just joy and love and happiness. The staff at the hospital took such amazing care of all of us. They knew about Madeline, and they wanted to hear about her while they met Annabel. They made an effort to include Maddie in the day and it meant so much to me. At the hospital, we enjoyed the newness of our daughter. We reveled in her birth and specialness.

At home, we continue to do so.

Someday, I’ll find the words to express just how special she is.

My recovery from Annabel’s birth has been so amazingly easy that I should totally be the poster girl for c-sections. The contrast between how I am doing now versus how I was after Madeline’s birth is amazing. The circumstances were, of course, totally different, but I am really shocked by how good I’m doing. After Maddie’s birth I bled (heavily) for four weeks. After Annie’s I only bled (lightly) for six days. I took major pain medicine for weeks after my first c-section, this time I only take the occasional ibuprofen. Last time I wore maternity clothes for months, this time I’m fitting into pre-pregnancy pants (but don’t worry, the belly is still there). I’m glad I had no idea what  a “normal” recovery should be my first time around, because I definitely would have been freaked out.

But then yesterday morning, I started bleeding out of nowhere. I was surprised and a little worried, since I hadn’t bled for 12 days and this was bright red. Luckily, I was scheduled for my two week appointment with Dr. Risky. As she examined me I told her about the bleeding. She asked a few more questions, and then said, “It’s your period.”

I threw my head back and howled, “nooooooooooo!”

I got my period exactly 28 days after Madeline was born, and now I had it 18 days after Annabel’s birth. My. Body. Hates me.

But still, I was in denial. I asked her how that was possible, since I am breast feeding and it hasn’t even been a month since Annie was born.

“Oh yeah, it’s absolutely possible. You’re just one of the lucky ones.”

And then she said, “Let’s talk about your birth control options.”

So I said, “ABSTINENCE!” because HELLO!

She replied, “Yeah, but not forever, and you’re probably super fertile.”

I said, “all I have to do is tell my husband that and his penis will curl up into his body. Problem solved!”

She laughed and then handed me a prescription for progesterone birth control pills.

Now I have nine months of PMS slamming me. Thank goodness I can now eat chocolate.

I mean, this little thing is so cute I can hardly stand it:

But she doesn’t need an Irish Twin.

Thanks to everyone for their advice about jaundice. Madeline also was jaundiced, but since she was already in the NICU it was just one aspect to her treatment. We very much wanted to avoid any sort of hospital stay (we just do not need to deal with that kind of emotional trauma), not to mention any possible side effects the jaundice could inflict on little Annabel. She was already very lethargic, and that is why we opted to follow our medical team’s advice and give her formula for 24 hours. Mike and I absolutely researched both sides of it, believe me – we don’t make any decisions lightly when it comes to our children. The good news is that Annie’s bilirubin numbers dropped to 12.1 and she is officially back to breast feeding like a champ. And, now I have a nice little stash of milk frozen for any sort of emergency. Win!

I’m definitely happy that Annie’s bilirubin levels went down because her yellow skin tone was starting to make her act a little strange. Earlier today, for example, Mike turned the TV to an episode of MTV’s “Jersey Shore,” and Annie immediately locked her gaze on the screen. Mike and I joked that it must have been because she felt a connection to all the orange-skinned, overly tan guidos and guidettes on screen, then left the episode on as we went about our day. This was a mistake. Check out how I found her only a couple hours later:

I immediately took the weights away from Annie, I mean those things could really hurt a newborn! But she wasn’t done acting out. Not ten minutes later Mike found her like this:

Okay, so Annie’s tanning in indirect sunlight was actually a good thing considering her bilirubin levels, but where the heck did she get those sunglasses? Mike took the glasses away and told her she was too young for them (they were totally for 3-6 month olds (but of course they fit her giant Spohr Head)) and that she shouldn’t try to grow up so fast. Annie seemed to get what Mike was saying, but then, five minutes later, we found her like this:

What baby does their own laundry? Mike and I weren’t sure why Annie was acting so strange until it hit us… GTL! Gym, tan, laundry! Annie was only doing what ‘The Situation” taught her to do on “Jersey Shore!” Wow. I guess kids really shouldn’t watch TV. And those Jersey Shore people? Totally not role models. Thankfully, once we learned from Dr. Looove that Annie’s bilirubin number went down, Annie was less interested in imitating Snooki and the gang. Still, it’s cartoons only from here on out…although, I wouldn’t mind if she kept doing her own laundry.