Month One in Photos

Lil' Wildcat

Pow!

First visit to Warren's work.

Posing with his "gifts" from Bella and Cole.

First time in the playmat.

First walk.

Warren's first time in the playmat. Weirdo.

First St. Patty's Day, what did we put in that milk?!?!

Random.

Go Roman, It's Your Birthday

Yesterday was Roman's 1 month birthday. So he needed a photo, especially a photo with a loud, celebratory color scheme. It is unbelievable that a month has passed already!

Month One Memories

There are a few moments from the past month I might try to forget (hormonal crying, sleep deprivation, etc.) but for the most part I feel like there are precious minutes that I fear will slip away from my memory if I don't write about them. For starters, Roman is exceptionally strong. (Doctor's opinion, not biased mom's.) And he is a fighter, kicking and squirming and throwing his head (which he can control already) around, prompting Joy to buy him a bunch of swaddlers and proclaim dealing with Roman is like wrestling monkeys. So for now it is sticking. I don't know if I have called him Roman enough times to count on one hand, it's just Monkey. My crazy little Monkey <3 Oh and about how strong the Monkey is, he is also rolling from side to side. I know NOTHING about babies, but this seems to impress those who do! Roman has already outgrown several newborn outfits, but only lengthwise. So most of the time he has on enormous outfits that fit just right down to his big feet. The boy's socks are all too short, but loose. He also enjoys clawing his own face with his massive hands, which do not look like baby hands at all. It is just like he has four year old hands or something. Looks wise, he definitely favors Warren, but as he picks up weight in his cheeks he looks more like me. I don't know how I feel about that fact, kinda feels like I am insulting myself! He has Warren's mouth and I often see Warren in the faces that he makes. That is my favorite Roman activity. Watching the faces he makes, usually right after he eats. I need to videotape it-not because anyone else would care to see it, but just for me! When he was about a week old we just woke up one morning and his eyes looked different. They had magically developed that under eye puffy thing that people with deep set eyes have. That is also Warren, I don't have deep set eyes. I guess I never wrote much about the first two weeks. First of all, the hospital. Ick. If we have any more children I am pretty sure I want to have a home birth. It really wasn't that bad, and as a first time mom it was nice having the nurses checking on you and getting everything for you. The on staff pediatrician at Clark was awful. She acted as if we were irresponsible idiots for declining some of the newborn care procedures that are completely unnecessary. As if I did not thoroughly research every decision before I made it. She is also the one who made us stay the second night. Ugh. Once we were home, I could not have made it without Joy. She was here for a week feeding us, running errands, cleaning, and doing everything for us so we could take care of Roman. There was a lot of crying that first week. Mostly because of breastfeeding, which was an epic fail. I tried different positions, products, met with a lactation consultant, everything. There just seemed to be too many cards stacked against me. The pain was unbearable and made me not even want to hold Roman for fear he would want to nurse. Then on top of that, the poor boy wasn't getting enough milk. Which I learned makes newborns lethargic, not crying. So he was too tired to eat, making him be more tired. Finally, he was so out of it we couldn't get him to wake up at all, even after undressing him, clapping, singing, and tickling his feet. That's when we popped open the formula. I am still pumping, but chalking it up to an epic fail was my turnaround point of tears stopping and me being a happy mama. After Joy left, my first week by myself started off well. By day two I had things pretty down pat. I complained to Ashley of being bored in the afternoon! Then that night I got a fever. After it reached 102.5, I went to the doctor the next morning (causing Warren to miss yet another day of work) and I had mastitis. By the next day everything was fine though and it's been going pretty smoothly ever since. Minus a few disastrous bodily function episodes! But I think that just comes with the territory.
This week was an adventurous week. My goal for the week was to get him to sleep, especially for naps when I am here by myself, without being held. That was successful. Kristen 1, Roman 0. He is also now spending an hour or so on his playmat listening to Children's Folk Music on Pandora. We also made our first trip out together. The day he was three weeks old we went to Target. Woo-hoo! The cute thing was that when we were there a lady was looking at Roman and asked me how old he was. "Three weeks today," I replied. She asked if it was our first trip out and I told her that indeed it was. She said, "Let me tell you something. 27 years ago, on the day my baby was three weeks old we made our first trip out and it was to Target." Today I think Warren and I might try to take him to the grocery for the first time. Sounds terrible. Roman celebrated his first St. Patrick's Day on Thursday. We went to Christie and Ian's (Roman's first trip to someone's house!) and had a delicious dinner. Also, being that it is March Maddness we have had many UK outfit photo ops.
As far as being at home, I don't really like it right now. I guess it will get better when he is older, but right now I get REALLY bored. The weather is getting nicer, and he is getting older, so hopefully we can start getting out more. I am really bad at talking to him when we are here all day too. I try, because I know it is good for him, but it is a struggle for me to try to talk to someone who neither understands, nor can respond. The flip side of this, is that me and that boy are bonded. When his belly hurts, I am the only person he will calm down for. I know weird little tricks to take care of him. It makes me sad for Warren, because I know he hates leaving everyday, but at the same time I would be lying if I said I didn't like Roman needing his mama.
Warren's mom is coming back today for work/a visit. While she is here I want to try to get some family photos of us. Amazingly, a lot has changed in the two weeks since she left. No more tears, Roman is fattening up and more lively, we are capable of feeding ourselves, all sorts of accomplishments. Yeah, be impressed :)

First Bath

Roman recently had his first bath. As you can see from the photos, he LOVED taking a bath (insert sarcasm here). Warren got the lovely job of scrubbing the boy down. After I snapped a few photos, my job was to pour the water over Roman. Before his bath was ready, I got peed on and then immediatly after his bath he peed through his diaper on Warren. Oh and to get ready for the bath, Warren and I googled "How to Give Your Baby a Bath". Ahhh parenting in the 21st century :) Oh and finally, makeup isn't happening for me these days, as you can see below! Enjoy!

Birth Announcement

Beautiful Birth Announcement

by my amazingly talented friend

Elizabeth Smith

Birth Story-Warning! I didn't hold back.

This story kind of begins on Tuesday, February 22, 2011. For the past two to three weeks I had been having a contraction here or there. Not really enough to notice, but enough for me to now be able to identify what a contraction felt like. Tuesday night before bed I noticed I had three contractions in a row, about twenty minutes apart. They weren't noteworthy, and in fact I am surprised I even noticed them. I think the only reason I did was because of some sort of premonition. I had had a looong day at work with back to back meetings. Ironically, the last I have seen of my principal was her saying "Well it looks like you might make it to your due date. I wasn't so sure before." Anyways, under the advisement of my wonderful birthing class teacher I chose to ignore the contractions and chalk it up to a long day and the normal process of my body getting ready for labor.
I woke up Wednesday morning and immediately noticed that I was still having contractions 20 minutes apart. I also noticed that I had an overwhelming urge to clean up, but didn't have time because I had to go to work. This "nesting" instinct, which I was still trying to ignore, got taken out on my job. I got to school and cranked out all of my report cards, any unfinished lesson plans, my student teacher's final evaluation, my peer buddy meeting log, and during the day I got my students to finish up their writing pieces, an assessment, and any unfinished work. This probably doesn't mean much to someone who is not a teacher, but I was in hyper-productive mode. Again, I was still telling myself, "Oh well, you are just startled by your contractions, so you are getting a lot done." Meanwhile, my contractions were more like 10-12 minutes apart. Other than my besties and my student teacher, I was keeping all this to myself. Like a good Believe in Birth student I ignored the contractions, trying not to jump the gun. I called Warren, who was home with a stomach bug (blessing in disguise!), told him what was going on and texted him a list of like twenty things to go buy for labor and for the baby. By the end of the day, my contractions were 6 minutes apart. When the bell rang, I desperately wanted to hung all my babies and tell them how much I was going to miss them. I figured that would be pretty confusing to an 8 year old if I were to show up the next day, so I didn't. As I walked out, I told the secretary, " Um Jeanie, I don't think I'm going to be here tomorrow. Or ever again."
I got home and began my process of eat, sleep, drink, walk, pee. I was looking for longer, stronger, and closer together. (This is stuff from class, if it doesn't make sense to you!) They slowed down. They were less strong. I was almost ready for it to be a false alarm, but after about an hour things were back the way they had been. At this point I was still happy, chatting on the phone, gathering things for my labor bag, and feeling excited. Warren and I went to bed at 11:00.
12:00 I am up, too uncomfortable to sleep. I make it through the next hour on my own, with the help of my birth ball. I wanted Warren to rest. I didn't need a passed out papa later in the day. By 1:00 I had to get him up. I can't remember much of the night. I know that my contractions were still 5-6 minutes apart, but the intensity was really picking up. Sometime in the night I remember getting in the tub. The water helped, but at our condo the water heater is crap, so we couldn't keep it warm enough (foreshadowing later events). I remember that walking through my contractions, with Warren helping to hold me up, was how I got through the later hours.
7:00 I decide I need a change of scenery. I was ready to go to the hospital. I wanted in the tub at Clark. Warren called our doula, Kim. After she arrives, she and Warren gather what we need to take to the hospital. As we are about to walk out the door, I decide to use the restroom first. Then my water broke. I had been told it could be a gush of fluid. Or slow trickling that lasted longer. I had neither. I had repeated gushes of fluid from that point forward. Anyways, we get towels and got in the car.
8:00 For those who are unfamiliar, to drive to Clark, you must drive into downtown then cross a bridge to southern Indiana. Somehow it was my genius idea to do this on a day that it was pouring down rain and in the middle of rush hour traffic. In the car I began feeling nauseous, but I contained it and managed to remain calm and breathing through my contractions. I believe at this point Warren was in a panic, but I could only focus on myself. Warren later told me that there was a police car behind us most of the way and that he really wanted to wave him down and see if he could get us through traffic. He said he'd probably just get tazered.
9:00 We arrive at Clark. I am trying to telepathically convey my desperation to the people at registration, but it doesn't seem to be working. They are in no hurry. Despite the fact that I am standing there in pajamas, soaking wet from the waist down. So I guess my body decided it had better get their attention. The nausea that I had been holding back in the car, returned full force. I opened my eyes wide and said "I'm going to be sick. I'm going to be sick. I'm going to be sick." Kim and Warren urgently asked for a trash can but everyone seemed frozen. So I puked everywhere. That got them moving. And it got us up to the delivery room in a jiffy.
This is where time fades away. Arriving at the hospital was terrible. I was in a zone, managing my way through my contractions. Getting up there though messed everything up. I got strapped with monitors, had a hep lock put in, had to lay down in bed (so uncomfortable for a contraction), had to answer lots of questions. It was miserable. As per my birth plan, this all went away, but was required for the beginning. The nurse assigned to me for the day was fresh out of college. Sweet as can be, but freaking clueless. Examples: putting in my hep lock during a contraction, spilling blood everywhere from the hep lock, trying to chat me up about the baby's name during contractions, etc. She had definitely not been in labor before. After that torture, I made my way to the tub. That's when I found out that the heat could not be over 100 degrees. And that the thermometer was reading that the barely lukewarm water I was setting in was 100 degrees. Oh the disappointment. I stayed in there though, because the water did help and it was too hard getting in and out of the tub. I finally got out when I was shaking so much from the cold that I couldn't manage my contractions. Eventually, I felt like I couldn't manage them anyways. Then things really become a blur. I remember that during contractions I had to stare at one spot on the wall. I couldn't look Warren or Kim in the eyes because every time I did my eyes began to try to plead with them to make it stop. I remember them telling me I could do it, and in my head agreeing, yes I CAN, but I don't WANT to. At some point, I got an iv because I was dehydrated. The nurses had not been happy that I had not used the restroom once since arriving. I think, looking back, the iv definitely helped with resting later on. I remember being cold all day. I couldn't seem to warm up, even with them bringing me heated sheets. My OB came in once and said, "I know you don't want an epidural, but there are other things, like..." At this point Kim kicked Warren, who then stopped the doc from continuing. I desperately wanted to know what she was going to say, but was strong enough not to ask. I never pictured myself as a quiet birther, but I feel as if I barely spoke the entire day. I was crazed out of my mind, unable to think, answer people, or do anything other than simply survive.
1:00 I told Warren I wanted to lay down "like we lay at home". Warren and I usually watch tv with me sitting between his legs. I don't know why I felt that way. It is certainly not the most comforTABLE position for a contraction, but it was very comforTING. I began dozing off between contractions. I was almost sleeping through the ones I was having. I could breathe through them again. They were further apart. I just remember finally feeling warmed up. After about an hour though, the contractions were demanding my attention again.
2:00 I am up kneeling over the bed. A contraction comes. I tell Kim, "I don't think I should be in this position because I feel like I want to push." Possibly the first complete sentence I have spoken in hours, or it at least seems that way to me. I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I just never thought the time would come to push. Kim says no, that that's great, that I should push if I feel like pushing. Kim put the squat bar on the bed, I think. I felt incredible. I was awake, alert, able to talk when I wasn't having contractions, and in general back to my normal self. Pushing contractions feel like you are making something happen, rather than something happening to you. I felt strong and focused. I LOVED pushing. I loved perfecting my low, as someone, my nurse or Kim, put it "cow" groan. Oh and right before pushing there was a shift change. I had a new nurse who was a homebirther and awesome. She never talked to me during a contraction and was clear and helpful. I was really good at focusing the push and the groan. I was starting to get excited for what was to come.
3:00 Another hour of pushing. I was still in a much better place than earlier in the day, but the physicality was taking it's toll. I was getting tired.
4:00 The nurse says I have a lip on my cervix. She tells me that she can pull the baby's head around it but that I have going to have to get in the "awful on your back hospital position" and that it is going to hurt really bad. BUT afterwards, it should just take 3 or 4 more rounds of pushing to get him out. Do it.
It did hurt, but compared to transition, it was nothing. Pain was meaningless at this point. After that I knew my baby was coming. The nurse told me to push with my chin down and without making any noise. She told me it was going to hurt, like a burning, as the head crowned. I didn't feel the pain. I was focused and determined to get him out. Even when there was confusion about pulling my doc out of surgery. I said "I don't care if she's here." The nurse said, " Well there's a lot of paperwork to fill out if she's not." I SAID I agreed to half push, but when the contractions came I pushed with full force, doctor there or not. She did make it though. After the next push, I could feel the baby in the birth canal. Dr. Hannigan asked Warren if he wanted to catch the baby. He did. Finally, my last push followed by crying. Roman Lee Thomas was born February 24, 2011 at 4:48 PM. Warren and I both just started crying and holding on to one another. I couldn't possibly find the words to describe how I was feeling in that moment. Warren cut the cord and they handed me my precious boy.

Our Baby Boy

Last Thursday, our baby boy decided it was time for him to enter the world. Just short of being two weeks early, we were one surprised mama and papa! Roman Lee Thomas was born February 24, 2011 at 4:48 PM. He was 7lbs 7oz and 21 inches long. Soon I will write up my birth story, but for now here is a glimpse of our precious boy's first week.