Things I Knew (And Didn't) About a C-Section

My darling daughter was in the perfect birthing position for over 2 months and my wonderful doctor and I thought I would be able to have a natural childbirth. I was even excited about it because my mom and one of my grandmothers wasn't able to do so, and I thought my body would actually cooperate. My daughter had other plans though--she moved herself to a transverse position with her umbilical cord directly over the birthing canal. So I went from waiting for labor to start to please don't let labor start with an urgent c-section with in 24 hours. I'm not complaining about this because Thia was born healthy, safe and happy, which was all I really wanted. 

That being said there were things I knew in theory that followed and things I had no clue about recovering from a c-section:


1. It's major surgery. The doctors and nurses tell you this, but it doesn't (or didn't with me at least) register. At the end of the day I was able to hold my bouncing baby girl. Yes the hospital stay was a little lengthy, but I was able to cuddle, feed, sing, and love on this beautiful gift. No, the major surgery part didn't register until I got home 4 days later. That's when it truly hit me that I was restricted and not at the top of my game. It was painful and unlike other surgeries you can't lounge around doped up because that blessing you are excited about needs to be fed, cleaned and held. 


2. You can't drive. This was a no-brainer. And, truthfully, it didn't bother me until about two weeks later, then I wanted to be able to tool around with my daughter. But it wasn't a possibility because I had been cut open and couldn't risk opening my incision. I was able to drive about two weeks after that, which brought back a huge sense of being me.


3. There's swelling--L-O-T-S of swelling. I had no idea this happened. I mean, I knew my tummy wouldn't immediately flat; but the rest of my body?!? My whole body was so swollen I couldn't even get my pregnancy jeans on! My pregnancy cankles had nothing on my post c-section cankles. I could barely walk for about a week without pain in my ankles. The swelling went away after about two weeks, and thank goodness for my self-esteem!


4. You still look pregnant. Like I said, I knew my stomach wouldn't be flat--but I didn't really think I would still look nine months pregnant. Part of it was the swelling and then part of it was just recovering from being pregnant. I thought I missed out on that later part with the c-section: I mean they cut me open, they could at least remove some of the extra flab; right? Nope you still have to burn calories to get that tummy to go away. (Breastfeeding helps a ton!)


5. You still have crazy hormones. I thought that once I was no longer with child that my hormones would stabilize. This thought was very, very, very wrong. I found that out when everyone else in the hospital room was freezing and I was begging for the thermostat to be turned down. At that point my doctor informed me that my husband was the temperature gauge for our baby. Apparently with breastfeeding that continues; so even when I wake up drenched in sweat, all the normal people can (and probably are) still cold.


6. You can't eat for AT LEAST 24 hours. I call you back to number 1--MAJOR SURGERY. This may not seem like such a big deal, but my diet was more restricted than most. Yes, I missed sushi and the like. But I had gestational diabetes, which meant I couldn't indulge in the sweet tooth cravings my daughter created. By the time she arrived I was longing for Coca-Cola and Krispy Kreme, and I had planned on having them as soon as I birthed her. Nope! I couldn't have anything, then only liquids, then finally I could eat what I wanted. Overall, I couldn't indulge for about 72 hours. 

7. You're instant super mom. I think all new moms think this not just those of us who didn't actually experience labor or who are chronic over achievers. It's not true, you have to adjust and figure it out--no baby or family is the same. So in that vein, be grateful for your co-stars/supporting cast... whoever they maybe. (A special thank you to my hubby, mom, dad, Cara and Tina!)


I know other women have a lot more draw backs to having a c-section, but it really wasn't as bad as any horror story I had heard. Truthfully I wouldn't trade the way Thia came into this world because she entered this world perfect. It's like with anything--perspective helps a lot. My perspective is: well worth it!

Finding a Rhythm...(I think)

So Miss Thia is seven weeks old today (!) and (I think) we are finally finding a rhythm. It could all change tomorrow, but I'm choosing to believe we've found something. The last seven weeks have been a whirlwind of joy, exhaustion, amusement, messiness, and any other contradicting emotions you can come up with. I tried my best to listen to all of the unsolicited wanted advice--you know: let your chores wait, sleep when the baby sleeps, let your partner help with feedings, don't sleep with your baby, sleep with your baby, let your baby cry, don't let your baby... You know, all (I'm sure I've missed some) the advice you get as a new mom. All of it is welcomed (although sometimes confusing) because I am a first time mom.

I can't believe she is already seven weeks old!

I'll be honest with recovering from the c-section, trying to get enough sleep, extreme breast engorgement--I listened to the "let your chores wait." Let me be clear, when I say I listened, I mean I listened for almost seven weeks (I could barely walk through my living room)--then I just couldn't take it anymore. So starting over this long weekend while the dear hubby could entertain our ever more alert baby, I started a cleaning binge I still haven't quite finished (tomorrow will be the finishing touches). I actually hate that I let it wait, because I just feel calmer having a tidy home. But now that my darling daughter will actually let me put her down during the day, this cleanliness will be kept up so I don't become a scary, mad woman talking about dishes, clothes and dust.


The other advice I tried desperately to listen to was to "sleep when your baby sleeps." I tried and tried and even prayed that I would be able to--but with the exception of a few pure exhausted naps, it didn't work. I'm not a napper. Never have been. I couldn't even do it well in college (don't get me wrong, plenty of times I watched TV lounging around in my dorm room). For whatever reason, my body has a hard time sleeping when the sun is up (maybe that's why Thia is so alert). 


I do fully believe in letting your partner help with feedings. I fought this at first when we got home from the hospital because I thought it would make me a bad mom if my daughter was fed other than directly from my teet. (Not saying you have to breastfeed to be a good mom; I just really wanted to breastfeed.) However, my excruciating breast engorgement taught me otherwise. When you over produce milk and you can't sleep with the sun up: You let (and thank goodness for) your partner feed the baby at night. That way I get sleep and Thia still gets breast milk AND bonding time with daddy.

Medela breast pump--Truly a lifesaver and MUST have!

These few things are helping me to create a rhythm for me and Miss Thia. A rhythm to me means I'll be able to return phone calls, go out into the world and in general have a sense of well being beyond being an exhausted milk factory. That's the trick I've learned to be most valuable--whatever works for you, your baby and your new family is what you do. So if you haven't heard from, I'm not avoiding you. I've just been learning how to live this new truly blessed, awesome new life. So, expect to hear from me soon.


PS-I'll talk about that other advice during a later post. Because that's part of my new rhythm (fingers crossed): at least two posts a week.

Do(n't) Say to a New Mother

I don't know about all you other new moms, but I feel like a hormonal mess. And if you factor in this new role with recovering from an urgent C-section you could just call me a hot (flash) mess.

Our first family photo--taken after Thia's arrival April 11, 2012.

My father and husband are both very loving and supportive, but at the end of the day-they are boys...ergo they do NOT understand. When I finally experienced my first teariness, both said, "you're fine, it's normal, you are post partum." Men think that final phrase explains it all. (Which, a quick note guys, it makes us women even more emotional.)


Then top it off by being told I'm hormonal, dramatic or any other word that would send a woman off the deep end on a normal average day. Men understand to tell you how great of a job you're doing while in the hospital and the first couple days at home. But then, somehow, they forget. Honestly, all new moms (at least this one) want to hear is that we're doing a good job, you love us and can you help us with anything.


Usually it wouldn't be a big deal. However, this new mom still can't drive or carry anything heavier than her growing, beautiful little girl. So, in my mind I'm handicapped. I very much like to be able to do my own thing and would love to take lil bit with; but I can't quite yet. This is making me stir crazy and feeling VERY needy with my hubby-who lets be honest is over it at this point. Well, ME TOO!! I know this part will be over soon, and thus I ask for patience for myself, hubby, and all family and friends.

Our first outing to Ronnie's Dinner on Culver Blvd.

PS. I'm very grateful to get to go out for brunch as a little family!! My and Thia's first outing other than doctor's appointments in over 3 weeks... I think I may need to have my hair cut and toenails painted--just saying.

Please Don't Breathe on Me

Anyone who's been around me during this pregnancy knows about my love affair with hand sanitizer. I always have a small bottle with me, not to mention the strategically placed bottles around my house. I've even had encountered countless days where I've had to lotion my hands multiple times because they were raw from me washing them SO many times. 

Clearly having clean hands is an important thing, but I have taken to an extreme while being pregnant. I use to be the first kid in the dirt, didn't mind if something was sticky, and could have cared less if the only thing to bathe in while camping was the lake. That's ALL changed--at least for these nine months. If I touch anything that could have germs, I want need to sanitize. 


But trying to keep myself "germ-free"all goes to naught when I have to go to the drug store (which is far more often than I like). I've mentioned that I was sick for over 2 1/2 months with a cold that would not let go of the compromised immune system that pregnancy creates. So--needless to say--since the cold said "adios," I've thought very loudly to anyone with even a snivel: STAY. AWAY. FROM. ME!


However, this thought doesn't seem to come out of my mouth often or quickly enough--I think this is because I don't want to engage sick people. Unfortunately with the other items going on in my pregnancy I am at the drug store every week or every other week. Last week I felt like I was in a slapstick comedy changing aisles if I saw someone else coming down the same aisle. I didn't want them to have to fit around me, breathe on me or even give me a contagious look. 

I know this isn't very PC of me because everyone gets sick, but...I can't help myself--I really want to end this pregnancy without another cold or virus. Maybe drug stores could quarantine an area for only sick people, so that those of us without symptoms but weak immune systems don't have to be around them. I just kindly ask--if you see me or any other woman carrying around a basketball, keep your sneezes, breathing, touching and any other contact to yourself! Thanks, 8 1/2 months Pregnant Without a Current Cold :)

There Will Be Photoshop

Ah... The belly photo. The photo that holds a woman's 8 or 9 month body in posterity for the viewing pleasure of, well--herself, husband, family and perhaps even the baby that is (sort of) in the photo. I'm not saying I don't like the photos. In fact if they are done tastefully and thoughtfully, I think they are/can a wonderful keepsake and adorable. But let's face it, not all belly photos are created equal.


Some women just do not look comfortable exposing any part of themselves, even it is only their (very) round belly. The truth is if you're not comfortable, then no shot will be worth using (and you've now wasted time and money). Then other women are too comfortable for my taste. You know the ones I'm talking about--no bra, no undies--just wearing Eve's uniform  like they couldn't afford even a fig leaf. I'm by no means a prude, but I'm very uncomfortable looking at entirely nude body that isn't an ancient work of art or my husband. 


Jessica Simpson recently did this photo for Elle magazine (see below). Beyond the two reasons above--she and I both are uncomfortable--there is also one thing I call BS on in this picture; I call it the Wonderful World of Photoshop. Honestly, WWP doesn't bother me. I think most celebs should use it for blemishes and such. But, and maybe it's just me, I don't buy that you can't see a single vein on her belly.  True, maybe Jess had spray tan or something of the like before the shoot (I don't do it; therefore I'm not aware of possible side effects and can't judge). 

But not having any veins on this photo made me slightly panic and feel insecure at first. I then calmed my hormonal-self and reminded the crazy woman inside of WWP. Also, for as far along as Jess is, her bellybutton seems amazingly still poked in. Good for her on both accounts I suppose; but I'm refusing to let the hormonal crazy lady inside me compare.


Also, I haven't decided if I will let the hubby take clothed belly pictures of me and BGK. I may want to sometime in the next few weeks, but believe me there will be photoshop--no one needs to see the river lines on the map that has become my belly.

Naming Your Heart

Naming your baby is just that--naming your heart. Baby Girl Kotowski has a name, but I don't want to share it with the masses yet (I'm superstitious, remember?). For the record though, it wasn't hard for us to agree on a name. The hubby and I are very team like people--if BGK had been a boy, he would get to pick out his name. My dear hubby didn't win that lottery; he was allowed "yea" or "neigh" privileges. 

While I'm thrilled to call my daughter her official name while holding her in my arms, that's not the type of names I'm talking about. All parents, especially fathers, have a tendency to nickname their children. It's not new or different, but can be extremely amusing. My dad to this day still calls me "punkin," and I wouldn't trade it for the world. He called my brothers "champ," "pokey" and "Mr. C"--respectively. My mom always called us by loving adjective names--ms. priss, angel, buddy, love, etc.

Before we knew BGK was a girl, I called her bean because I hated using the word "it."Now I call her by a shortened version of her real name. (I'm not really trying to be a tease, but I prefer only family and close friends know her name before she arrives. Sorry!) 

My husband started calling the belly "Bubba" when I started showing, which was before finding out that lots of pink and purple were in our future. I'll be honest, once he found out, I thought she would have a new nickname from her already doting father--I was wrong. He almost exclusively calls her Bubba regardless of pointing out that Bubba is in fact a she.

At first it worried me--what if she has a complex? Then I thought about it and realized Bubba was a little less manly than some of my grandpa's nicknames for my aunts (one is Butch and the other is Gus). Both of my aunts turned out better than okay; so who am I to judge? Plus it's really adorable. 

I have no idea how long the nickname will continue, but I'm fairly certain it will exist beyond her birth. And truthfully, I know she will adore her dad because I do. More than likely it will be a special bond for them...that is until she has a crush in middle school and asks her daddy to please not call her that in public. 

Hold Your Own Door!

I've found that when you've entered the realm of "parent-to-be" (especially "mom-to-be") there is always some fear that creeps enter your psyche. Don't misunderstand--I am BEYOND thrilled to be mom and am (im)patiently waiting to meet my little girl in person! But every parent worries about if they'll be a good parent, which my very wise sister-in-law assured me when I had my first panic attack several months ago.  


However, I'm not talking about those fears; I'm talking about slightly irrational, some what common, and are almost always hysterical in nature if you stop and think about them for a moment.  I've found in my third trimester I have a new one almost every week and they each last roughly a week--Thank goodness, otherwise I would be paralyzed in bed.


This week's fear is elevators. I never realized how much of an incubator these steel boxes were...that was until I was 8 months pregnant!  I mentioned that I've become a professional patient, which means elevators are a part of my routine. 

Image from businessinsider.com

Well, the panic set in when I was on my way to my endocrinologist. She's located on the 5th floor of a building that contains all sorts of specialities--none of which are OB's, so clearly I'm there for something besides just being pregnant. The elevators in this renovated building are still being renovated. They all close very quickly and moved up and down the 6 floors slowly.


The elevator nightmare started out with myself and an older gentleman standing on either side of an open elevator waiting for everyone to exit. We both started to enter the elevator when it started to shut. At that moment, the only part of my body that was close enough to hold the door was my 8 month belly--so, NOT gonna happen! The older gentleman did nothing and gave me a sour look! Seriously guy? Hold your own damn door! I'll patiently waddle to the next elevator to open. 


But the nightmare didn't stop with the (almost) belly eating doors. When I finally boarded the elevator, I stood as far to the side as I could to be out of the way. The elevators aren't small but for some unknown reason a woman with her chemotherapy bag hooked up and out felt the need to stand within 2 inches of me. I'm not trying to sound cruel and honestly I don't know the specifics of why this is bad. I do know that my grandmother's doctor told me that if she started chemo she couldn't be around me while I was pregnant: hence, this circumstance mad me very uncomfortable. 


To top it all off there was a little kid sneezing standing on the other side! I had a severe cold for 2 and 1/2 months of this pregnancy--I don't want another one! Both circumstances made my anxiety shoot through the roof and also made the 45 second elevator ride feel like an hour. The rest of the elevator was fairly empty, I don't know why everyone wanted to stand on top of the fat, er, pregnant chick. 

Image from arccentralvalley.blogspot.com

I'm not saying that I need to ride elevators alone for the next 6 weeks (although if someone could hook that up it would be AWESOME!).  I'm just asking that if you find yourself on an elevator with a pregnant woman please respect her larger than usual personal/baby bubble in the insane Petri dish we call an elevator.