Tag Archives: blood pressure

Introducing Ethan Matthew

It’s official: I’m a mom of two. I’m actually still in the hospital as I type, but it’s just me and the little one and he’s passed out while I’m too wired to sleep.  I’d forgotten how much they snooze at this age.

After my last post, I was admitted into the hospital. No doctor in their right mind would let me leave with blood pressures of 177/115. They decided to induce me and around 4:30 a.m. started my pitocin, a medication that makes you have contractions.

The contractions were pretty light at first and I started practicing some hypnobirthing techniques that I finally had time to research a week ago since I was no longer working. I’m not against having epidurals, I had one with Logan, but I have scoliosis, making it very difficult to give an epidural and getting it in was the worst part of Logan’s birth. So I thought I’d try the unmedicated route if I could.

I made it fairly far, especially considering I hadn’t slept in more than 24 hours when the labor really started rolling. (I had a long day on Monday, left for the hospital shortly after midnight that night.) So was I exhausted, had lost my focus and couldn’t get it back.

There was even a time where Hubby was frantically searching for songs that could help me through and the next thing I know Eminem is playing in my delivery room… At first I was like, what in the hell is he doing? But I was game for anything and it turns out spitting rapid-fire lyrics *can* help you through a few rough contractions. Thankfully the nurse never came in while I was dropping rhymes.

In the end I got the epidural, the anesthesiologist said it was one of the more difficult ones she’s ever given, but she did a great job and I felt loads better.

I had my mother-in-law in the delivery room because we’re very, very close and I felt I’d need her support. Also, though she has three grandchildren, she hasn’t seen one come into the world and I thought that’d be a wonderful gift. When the doctor announced that in a few minutes the baby would be there, tears welled up in her eyes. “Hey, there’s no crying until the baby’s here.” I said teasingly. Then I looked at Hubby and he too was teary-eyed. I smiled. I love that they wear their big hearts on their sleeves.

Two minutes later there was this exquisite moment where at first there were five people in the room and bing! Then there were six. The newest person was the smallest one, but had the biggest presence.

At 6-pounds, 7 ounces he has dark eyes, a head full of dark hair and big hands and feet for his 19-inch frame. His name is Ethan, a name Hubby and I have loved for years, and the middle name is Matthew after my nephew Theodore Matthew who died of SIDS.

Whenever I look at Ethan, I’m amazed at this little being. I’ve waited months to meet him and have worried week after week about his health considering my blood pressure. And he’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.

So here I am, a mom of two and feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

A Stumble Down the Stairs, the Facebook Fallout and a Trip To The Hospital

You know that saying what a difference a day makes? I’m not sure this is what they were talking about, but I recently had a 24 hour period that left me asking: What’s next?

It started on Thursday. I was working from home, my blood pressure was a little high, but I figured it soon would drop. After all, it had to, as we had a babysitter coming over. Hubby and I were going out to dinner to celebrate a huge accomplishment at his job and to go Christmas shopping for Logan.

Like every time a sitter comes over, Logan gets a little clingier, starts moving like molasses through our evening routine. I was trying to get him to go downstairs so he could get a good start on dinner before the sitter came. My stubborn mini-me, refused, despite my commands to “get down here!” Finally I decided to put him on my back since that’s the best way to tote him. (Yes, I shouldn’t be lifting him, at 9 months pregnant, but I dare you to find me a woman who hasn’t had to lift their toddler during their pregnancy.)

Logan knows I’m not a fan of carrying him, so he announces: “I’m going to hold on tight.” I said: “good!” and one step later I slipped. Everything kicked into slow motion. I realized I couldn’t fall forward because of the baby in my belly. I couldn’t fall backwards because of the baby on my back. Panic singed my soul as I ground my feet into the stairs trying to stop hurtling downward. I saw my pinky toe jut out at a 90 degree angle and thought, that ain’t right.

Finally gravity was through with me, we were done with the stairs and both of my babes were fine. My toe however, was another story. I put Logan down, began howling and cursed. Logan started laughing, mimicking me. I just prayed he didn’t repeat my bad language, especially at day care.

About 30 minutes later, the sitter and Hubby came home. I didn’t mention the fall and I was relieved Logan didn’t either. After walking with me for a bit, I had to explain to Hubby my gimp. His eyes bulged and he quietly gave me a fierce hug. Then it was off to dinner and then shopping.

We hobbled through Toys R Us and had a blast finishing up Logan’s Christmas shopping. I’m not sure who will enjoy Logan’s gifts more, my husband or my son, as Hubby grew giddier each time we put an item in the cart. A date night to go Christmas shopping is surely going to be a new holiday tradition in our family.

On the way home, Hubby put air in the tires and I waited in the car. Bored, I whipped out my Droid and hopped on Facebook. I updated my status with a flip comment about my trip down the stairs. That was a mistake as I misjudged how it might be received and immediately got scads of very concerned comments. I suppose they thought I did a triple back flip down the stairs maiming, Logan, Bean and myself. Eventually I deleted the post. Note to friends: Thanks for the concern, but if something ever is really wrong, you won’t read about it on Facebook. 🙂

The next day, my blood pressure still was pretty high, as in 150/100. I again was working from home, lying on my left side along with my laptop and my blood pressure wouldn’t go down. I knew I should have called the docs on Thursday, but now I *really* had to call them. Sure enough, when I rang, they wanted me to head to the hospital immediately for monitoring. Let me say, I *hate* hospitals. Hate them. They do a lot of good, but I can’t stand to be in them.

I was worried that they’d decide to induce me that day and I fretted that I still hadn’t packed my hospital bag. I actually tried to argue with the nurse that I didn’t need to come in. Obviously, I lost.

Hubby met me at the train station and we jetted to the hospital. After being monitored for three hours and some blood work, my blood pressure finally went down, all the tests came back great and I was told I could go home. I thought about having someone check out my toe while there, since it hurt like a b*tch, but was too much in a hurry leave.

After returning to the burbs, I swung by a friend’s house to drop off a thank-you gift and relayed to her the zaniness of the past 24 hours. I began joking with her and her hubby about my possibly broken toe. He looked at me quizically, I’d forgotten he was a podiatrist. They insisted he take a look, asking me, if my toe was purple and blue. I answered: “it’s brown.” (Duh, I’m African American, ALL of my toes are brown.)  Clearly, I was very tired.

After some poking and prodding he confirmed it was broken and advised me on taping it up.

Finally, I made it back home and shut out the rest of the world. It was really, really nice to just be with me, my boys and my broken brown toe.