Um...hi...
(said sheepishly)
This is like me, ya know...
I get these great ideas and then...well...
life.
Really, it's more like,
!!!!!!!!LIFE!!!!!!!!!
Needless to say, I completely underestimated both the amount of time and the level of attention a new child requires.
Whoops.
And the amount of money
(actress/singer/writer/make-up artist/baker/professional...shopper? for hire! Tell your friends!)
Or the time taken by my desperate attempts to scrape up the meager leftovers of what was at one time a healthy, flourishing social existence ...
And it's also quite difficult to write a blog when you do not have a working computer.
Oh, and I'm apparently married??
Just kidding about that last one, sweetie ;)
But I'm back, my friends!
You see, I've discovered that the extra time I used to have did not COMPLETELY disappear. Oh, don't get me wrong...it is, for the most part, gone and never to be seen again...
But apparently, some of it hides in seconds, minutes, and moments that happen, yes sparingly, but still so beautifully present throughout my day.
And guess what? I've learned to prioritize!
To (gasp).... time manage!
*shoves laundry basket with unfolded clothes out of peripheral view*
you know, for the most part...
So here I am, six months later, asking for another chance. So will you, my eight...no...WAIT...NINE! Nine followers, give me a second chance? A second chance to fill the void in your minds left by the absence of my witty narrative? To feed the hunger that could only be satisfied by the sweet and sinful decadence that is social voyeurism?
Please, oh please say yes!
So what's new with the Sanchez family? Well, I'm glad you asked, sir!
Maverick, my beautiful baby boy is 6 months old! Can you believe it? This past week he took his first plane ride to visit and meet family! He did so well. The couple in front of us on the ride back were shocked when they turned around to exit the plane, and saw we had a baby! He really is exceptional.
I know, every parent thinks it...but, this time it's true ;)
And, guess what? We are in the middle of buying our first home! It' such a scary, exciting process, but I think it'll be worth the headaches in the end.
I will be doing Grinchmas again this year, and I am VERY excited about it. I missed it so much last year. It'll be tough juggling two contracts and subbing two extra shows over the Holiday season, but I've made sure to keep myself sane by assuring I have a least one day off a week.
Jon is working hard at the station! He is taking a class next week called "firefighter survival."
This pleases me.
He has also decided to buy a 1968 Ford Ranger as a project car for him and Mav! He is really excited.
Everything is wonderful and beautiful in life right now, and we are so excited to see whats in store.
So from now on, every Saturday (at least) I will update with a DETAILED account of the previous week.
With pictures.
Pinky promise.
Get ready! The Sanchez Family is back and better than ever!
Excessive commas, run-ons, and all.
: D
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Welcome Maverick James Sanchez!
After 13 hours of labor, Maverick James Sanchez was born at 1:30 am Tuesday morning, April 6, 2010 at Winnie Palmer Hospital in Orlando, Florida.
Here is his story:
It all started on a rainy night In early July, 2009...
I'm just kidding, lol. I wouldn't do that to you. Can you imagine if I did?
I woke up early on Monday feeling crampy...but that was nothing new.
Hmmm... lets rewind to the week before, shall we?
I had a Doctor's appointment on Friday, where I knew I would have to make a difficult decision. My Doc had told me at previous appointment, that, depending on how my exam went on Friday, he might want to induce me.
You see, I had been in the Latent Phase of labor for about 3 weeks. Which means my body had been trying to go into active labor for almost a month!This concerned my doctor, and what had initially caused him to consider induction , even though I was only 38 weeks and 1 day.
After he told me this, my husband and I spent the days leading up to Friday's appointment in prayer, seeking guidance about what decision to make. It is ultimately up to me of course, unless the baby is in danger. My husband and I were able to come to the decision that if I was 4 cm at Friday's appointment, that I would allow induction. If I were 3, we would have to have a SERIOUS reason to rush it, and if I was anything below that, we would flat out refuse.
So, the appointment came, and I was so nervous that morning! But I knew that if God wanted Maverick to be born that day, that I would go in having made progress. Once at the appointment, the doc examined me, and determined I was only 1.5 cm and about 60 % effaced. NO progress.
Then he hooked me up to the monitors, and I was contracting regularly at 3 minute intervals, and they were making me quite uncomfortable.
His conclusion was that my body had "tried" to go into labor several times, but that something was keeping the baby from engaging correctly, therefore NOT sufficiently dilating me. His best guess was that the baby was too big. At my 36 week ultrasound, Maverick was estimated to already weigh 6lbs 5oz. Dr. Peppy felt like the baby could be on the larger side of 8lbs, and that my pelvis was incapable of engaging him.
Now Dr. Peppy is a great doctor, in fact at the hospital I was informed by almost ALL of the female staff at Winnie Palmer, that they and everyone else they know, also use him and LOVE him. But, I knew in my heart that Maverick's weight wasn't the problem. His next best guess was that the baby was what they call "sunny side up," where his head is down but that he is facing up...so that he comes out looking at the ceiling instead of the ground. Apparently this makes it hard to engage correctly as well. Dr. Peppy also feared that the cord may be wrapped around his neck, and that each time he tried to descend, he was put in distress by the cord.
He suggested that I go to the hospital that day and be induced that day.
Boy that was tempting. Especially after hearing all of his reasoning. Plus, when you feel like a whale, you're SO tired of contracting, SO uncomfortable, and you just want to meet your son, and your doc says, "let's do it!" all your principles start slipping out the window! Luckily I had Jon there to remind me to think clearly. The idea of the cord be wrapped around his neck gave me pause, so we checked his heart rate for about 20 minutes, and it was perfect, and there just wasn't enough proof that there was anything wrong.
So I turned down the induction.
Now you may be wondering why I wouldn't just do it! Well, my reasons for NOT wanting an induction were many. First of all, and my biggest reason, is that I'm one of those people that believe one medical intervention usually leads to another...and another...and so on. I knew that most inductions, when started before the patient has a favorable cervix, end in C-Section. Secondly, I also wanted to labor on my own without medication as long as I could stand it, so that I could be free to walk around and let gravity do it's job and so that my body would progress faster. Pitocin, the synthetic hormone they give you to induce labor, causes your contractions to be stronger, longer, and overall harder to handle, so I would need an epidural faster, and it might slow down labor...possibly resulting in C-Section.
Can you tell I REALLY didn't want a C-Section?? Now I know C-Sections happen all the time (too frequent in my opinion) and that healthy babys and mommies result almost 100% of the time, but for some reason, for me, I just knew I would be DEVASTATED if I ended up with one. A personal choice I suppose.
So...I ended up waiting.
That day I was filled with doubt, and every time I would go more than five minutes without feeling Maverick move, I would silently freak, thinking the cord had strangled him and it was all my fault! Luckily all my closest friends and family confirmed I made the right decision and encouraged me to trust God and the instincts He gave me.
My next appointment was scheduled for Monday, where I knew I would be faced with the same decision.
So my prayer was the same. I spent the weekend actually feeling "less" pregnant, if that's possible. I felt lighter and had more energy. I wondered if it were possible I had regressed! Needless to say I felt pretty discouraged.
Monday rolled around, and once again I was anxious out of my mind! However, I expected less this time. I was sure I hadn't made ANY progress! The morning before the appointment we went and walked around the mall. I started having contractions, but this time they seemed different. Every time one would come, I would have to stop walking and catch my breath!
We finally made it to the appointment, where they put me on the monitor first. Like usual, I was contracting about every three minutes, but they felt lower and stronger! Finally when the doc went to examine me (a different one than my usual Doc, who had left on vacation two days before), and I was 3+ cm! This doc's opinion was that I was in active labor ON MY OWN, and he wanted to admit me to the hospital!!
I was SO excited! This was it! My body had gone into labor on it's own!!
We drove to Winnie Palmer straight from the Doctor's office.
Once we got there, I changed into my stylish, ceremonial, backless hospital gown and got hooked up to an IV (after a painful failed attempt of course that left a rather nasty bruise on my arm.)
The Doc came in and decided to break my water to get the contractions going a bit more.
ummm...ewww.
That's all I have to say about that.
Sure enough, not long after, my contractions starting getting a lot more painful. My plan was to stay on my feet as long as possible, so they brought me the "birthing ball," which is just a glorified exercise ball. I got on it and started bouncing/breathing/walking through contractions.
Unbeknownst to me, they had hooked up a bag on pitocin. The nurse decided to turn it on (the lowest dose), and I didn't even know, until all of the sudden, my contractions became HARDCORE! I worked through them as best as I could. The only thing that seemed to help was putting all of my weight on Jon.
The pain was UNREAL. They took me off the pitocin, but it had already reared it's consequences. I was determined that as long as it was my body was naturally doing it, I would try to go until I was 6cm or 7cm before I got an epidural. Then I discovered that they had turned the Pitocin on, and at that point I was inconsolable.
The atmosphere in the room quickly changed, when I had a contraction so bad, that I was brought to tears...not during, but AFTER it...because I was scared of the next one coming!
About that time...like a angel from the Glorious Heaven above, the anesthesiologist, dressed in white, glowing like the morning sun, came gliding weightlessly into the room for a "consult."
I felt my resolve melting. I reconciled my guilt by telling her I wanted to remain on my feet, and she said...
"No problem! I'm the only anesthesiologist in the hospital that does a 'walking epi.' It will take the edge of the contractions, but it won't take away all of the pain, so you'll be able to be on your feet!"
Great! That sounded awesome. So I agreed. It was SO hard to sit still through the epidural, because the contractions were still knocking the breath out of me!
Once it was complete, I almost immediately felt relief. Just like the Doc said, the edge was gone. About that time the nurse came in to check my progress. I was at 5cm. So I didn't make it to the 6 like I had hoped...
The nurse decided to turn the pitocin back on. I thought it was unnecessary, I was moving quite fast!
As soon as she turned it on again, next thing I know, I've got nurses running in the room, lowering my bed, putting an oxygen mask on my face, and moving me all sorts of ways on the bed.
His heart rate had dropped to 90. Then to 70.
Then they lost it.
It was terrifying! It took almost a full minute and half to get it back and going again! It was so scary. I literally have never been so terrified in my life!
The nurse decided to turn off the pitocin again. It's my opinion that the pitocin is what caused the heart rate to drop.
At that point they decided that the external monitors weren't good enough. They needed internal ones to keep better track of his heart, now that there was concern. (I wish I had read up on this. Turns out internal monitoring has a lot risk involved with it. Not to mention that my son now has a permanent scar on his head, where hair will never grow, because they screw the monitor into his head!)
This sucked, because now with the internals, I was confined to the bed. No more walking around. No more bouncing. I was stuck on my back. The contractions hurt worse when I was on my back, so I decided to go ahead and get the full blown epidural, which was just a matter of switching bags.
Now pain free, I suddenly saw this long drawn out labor in front of me! Slow progression...if any...I saw myself on the operating table getting prepped for surgery...ughhhh, great...
However, much to my surprise, about an hour later the nurse checked me again and I was at 8cm!
After that check, I decided I wanted to shift positions. So I turned on my side, and suddenly Maverick's heart rate dived again!
Another rush of nurses, another dose of oxygen, another terrifying minute.
About an hour later...the same thing.
The nurses and midwife started talking in soft voices about a c-section.
"The baby just isn't handling the contractions very well..."
The midwife said, if the baby goes into distress again, you won't have a choice. A healthy baby is the number one concern.
Oh no! I loathed the idea of a c-section, but now I didn't care...I just wanted him to be okay! Wheel me in! I don't care if you don't have time to numb me completely! Just get him out! Let him be okay!
To my relief, we managed to make it another couple of hours without the baby distressing.
The midwife came in around midnight to check my progress, clearly not expecting me to be very far along, since the pitocin had been turned off.
She went to check, and with a startled expression said,
"There is no more cervix! There is a baby!"
So I was complete!!! It was time to push!
Holy Cow! I wasn't ready for this!! This is it!! I'm about to meet my son!
I was so nervous!
So they start getting everything prepped. They turned on the baby warmer, flipped on the lights, brought in a little baby sized table...
It was all so real suddenly. I started having all these doubts. Could I really do this? What happens if his heart stops??
I starting shaking uncontrollably. MY heart rate went up!
But I knew I had to pull it together.
A word here about my mom and husband. They were so supportive. Jon just kept telling me how strong I was and how proud he was of me. My mom just kept telling me I could do it, and pumped me up by saying things like "He's almost here!" "Only seconds now before you get to hold him!" I really couldn't ask for better coaches.
The midwife explained to me that with every contraction I would push for three ten second periods, and that the third ten seconds were the most important, because the progress compounded.
So the contraction came, and I pushed!
I have to say it was very difficult, at first, with the epidural, to push. I couldn't tell if I was just making my face red, or actually pushing the baby out!
I finally got the hang of it though. It was just a matter of concentrating, not to mention, after a while I could feel the pressure.
The first couple of pushes were awesome! The top of the baby's head came right out.
Sure enough, just like I had predicted, at 12:05 the midwife exclaimed,
"Well...his hair is born! Good gracious!"
So he had hair. Lots of it! It was motivation. I wanted to see the rest of him!
But for the next hour, he was stuck between my pelvic bone and tail bone. With every push, he would rock out, and then when I was done pushing, he would rock back in.
We tried many different positions. First was the tried and true "legs up, head down" position, after that, they turned me on my side...That didn't work...
THEN they brought in this device that looked like something they used for torture in the middle ages. It was a giant bar that they wrapped a white sheet around. I was to thread my arms in the sheet and pull up every time I pushed.
I could tell they were getting desperate. Why wouldn't he come out the rest of the way? What was wrong?
After about 20 minutes of attempting this new method, with no progress, I saw the the midwife mouth the words "vacuum" and suddenly, I found a second wind...
I pushed like I'd never pushed before, and then...an hour and a half after I began, the midwife finally said,
"STOP STOP! He's coming!"
So she rushed to get the rest of the staff!
I could feel him! He was almost here!
Finally the midwife told me to push on last time. I gave it all I had.
And then, my life began.
It was in slow motion. He was placed on my chest, and I didn't see or hear anyone but my son. He looked at me, and all I could think to say was,
"Hey, I know you..."
He looked like he knew me too. He started to cry, and I started to cry...and I knew in that instant that this is what life was all about. This is why I was born. Not for the stage. Not for the music. Not for the rush of applause, or the feel of the spotlight. Not for the euphoria of reaction from a live audience. That was all self satisfying, something that meet some narcissistic need to feel important.
All of the reasons I thought I had existed before melted away with the sound of my son's first cry. It was as if my entire life had led up to this moment. This moment that seemed to go on forever, yet waste away as fast as it had come. Love at first sight was real. True love exists, and it didn't matter that before I met my husband, I had my doubts about parenthood, or bringing a child into this world. Selfishness. My doubts were nothing more than petty ambitions I had once thought would bring me some ounce true happiness.
My life, my love, the most important gig I have ever had or will ever have, began with the first gaze into my son's newborn eyes.
I knew I loved my job, the stage, my husband, my family, my friends, my music...but it all somehow shifted, and changed in that moment. My love for all those things amplified, yet moved aside at the same time.
It sounds funny, but I suddenly felt like the Grinch standing on top on Mt. Krumpit, looking down on Whoville...an outsider in my own life...thinking that's the way I liked it. When suddenly the sounds of the air filling my son's lungs, acted like the music sung by the Whos sweeping over the hilltops and mountains finally reaching my ears. And my heart, just like the Grinch's grew. There was a new space in my chest where there hadn't been before.
Maverick's place.
He was swept away to the warming table, and everything happened in regular time again. I heard my husbands voice, full of emotion telling me how proud he was of me, and how much he loved me. I loved him. Man, did I love him. I thought I had before, but..I had no idea...
My heart grew again.
My mom was on the other side stroking my hair, and I got it. I finally got it. She was my mother, Maverick was my son. I suddenly felt connected to her in a way I never had before. She loved me like this. The way I love my son. How could I have ever been a good enough daughter to deserve that kind of love?
My heart grew even bigger.
I was sure it was bulging out of my chest by now.
I hear the nurse say, "six pounds seven ounces!"
I hear the midwife say he was facing "sunny side up with cord wrapped around his neck..."
Then...I feel the warmest feeling rush over me. It took me minute to realize what it was, and then I knew. It was God's love washing over me. He protected my son, he protected me. He gave me my child.
He gave me His child.
Oh! How clear life is in the moments following the birth of a child. God, the perfect craftsman! He designed it to be this way!
The rest of the late evening was a rush. I saw my family, and my closest friends. I even felt the love sent from those who wanted to be there but couldn't. I felt the love from those who had gone on. There was a piece (and peace) of everyone who ever loved me in the hours that followed.
The calm after the storm was surreal. After everyone had left, and it was just Jon, Maverick, and myself, we spent that time in celebration and prayer.
What a gift we have. What Joy!
We fell asleep knowing we were the luckiest people to have ever lived.
The next day I felt like I had been hit by a truck...
Seriously, LOL... I was sore. But it didn't matter. We had an influx of visitors, and Maverick was taken to be checked up, and circumcised. We got used to feeding, burping and changing.
A word about breastfeeding.... another amazing perfect experience that God created. It truly is magical. The euphoric happiness you feel as you nourish your child...is unexplainable!
Coming home was perfect. My father had decorated the house, and bought me roses! We had a sign out from that read "It's A Boy!"
In the week or so that has followed, I would be lying if I didn't say it has been an adjustment. Getting used to his cries and what they mean, figuring out the correct way to change him and bathe him, dodging pee and projectile poop...it's all been a little hard...
But A LOT of fun.
We really feel so amazingly blessed. I can't believe God has entrusted me to care for this little blessing.
Life is such a miracle. Life is perfect. It will never be the same again.
And I am 100% okay with that!
Here is his story:
It all started on a rainy night In early July, 2009...
I'm just kidding, lol. I wouldn't do that to you. Can you imagine if I did?
I woke up early on Monday feeling crampy...but that was nothing new.
Hmmm... lets rewind to the week before, shall we?
I had a Doctor's appointment on Friday, where I knew I would have to make a difficult decision. My Doc had told me at previous appointment, that, depending on how my exam went on Friday, he might want to induce me.
You see, I had been in the Latent Phase of labor for about 3 weeks. Which means my body had been trying to go into active labor for almost a month!This concerned my doctor, and what had initially caused him to consider induction , even though I was only 38 weeks and 1 day.
After he told me this, my husband and I spent the days leading up to Friday's appointment in prayer, seeking guidance about what decision to make. It is ultimately up to me of course, unless the baby is in danger. My husband and I were able to come to the decision that if I was 4 cm at Friday's appointment, that I would allow induction. If I were 3, we would have to have a SERIOUS reason to rush it, and if I was anything below that, we would flat out refuse.
So, the appointment came, and I was so nervous that morning! But I knew that if God wanted Maverick to be born that day, that I would go in having made progress. Once at the appointment, the doc examined me, and determined I was only 1.5 cm and about 60 % effaced. NO progress.
Then he hooked me up to the monitors, and I was contracting regularly at 3 minute intervals, and they were making me quite uncomfortable.
His conclusion was that my body had "tried" to go into labor several times, but that something was keeping the baby from engaging correctly, therefore NOT sufficiently dilating me. His best guess was that the baby was too big. At my 36 week ultrasound, Maverick was estimated to already weigh 6lbs 5oz. Dr. Peppy felt like the baby could be on the larger side of 8lbs, and that my pelvis was incapable of engaging him.
Now Dr. Peppy is a great doctor, in fact at the hospital I was informed by almost ALL of the female staff at Winnie Palmer, that they and everyone else they know, also use him and LOVE him. But, I knew in my heart that Maverick's weight wasn't the problem. His next best guess was that the baby was what they call "sunny side up," where his head is down but that he is facing up...so that he comes out looking at the ceiling instead of the ground. Apparently this makes it hard to engage correctly as well. Dr. Peppy also feared that the cord may be wrapped around his neck, and that each time he tried to descend, he was put in distress by the cord.
He suggested that I go to the hospital that day and be induced that day.
Boy that was tempting. Especially after hearing all of his reasoning. Plus, when you feel like a whale, you're SO tired of contracting, SO uncomfortable, and you just want to meet your son, and your doc says, "let's do it!" all your principles start slipping out the window! Luckily I had Jon there to remind me to think clearly. The idea of the cord be wrapped around his neck gave me pause, so we checked his heart rate for about 20 minutes, and it was perfect, and there just wasn't enough proof that there was anything wrong.
So I turned down the induction.
Now you may be wondering why I wouldn't just do it! Well, my reasons for NOT wanting an induction were many. First of all, and my biggest reason, is that I'm one of those people that believe one medical intervention usually leads to another...and another...and so on. I knew that most inductions, when started before the patient has a favorable cervix, end in C-Section. Secondly, I also wanted to labor on my own without medication as long as I could stand it, so that I could be free to walk around and let gravity do it's job and so that my body would progress faster. Pitocin, the synthetic hormone they give you to induce labor, causes your contractions to be stronger, longer, and overall harder to handle, so I would need an epidural faster, and it might slow down labor...possibly resulting in C-Section.
Can you tell I REALLY didn't want a C-Section?? Now I know C-Sections happen all the time (too frequent in my opinion) and that healthy babys and mommies result almost 100% of the time, but for some reason, for me, I just knew I would be DEVASTATED if I ended up with one. A personal choice I suppose.
So...I ended up waiting.
That day I was filled with doubt, and every time I would go more than five minutes without feeling Maverick move, I would silently freak, thinking the cord had strangled him and it was all my fault! Luckily all my closest friends and family confirmed I made the right decision and encouraged me to trust God and the instincts He gave me.
My next appointment was scheduled for Monday, where I knew I would be faced with the same decision.
So my prayer was the same. I spent the weekend actually feeling "less" pregnant, if that's possible. I felt lighter and had more energy. I wondered if it were possible I had regressed! Needless to say I felt pretty discouraged.
Monday rolled around, and once again I was anxious out of my mind! However, I expected less this time. I was sure I hadn't made ANY progress! The morning before the appointment we went and walked around the mall. I started having contractions, but this time they seemed different. Every time one would come, I would have to stop walking and catch my breath!
We finally made it to the appointment, where they put me on the monitor first. Like usual, I was contracting about every three minutes, but they felt lower and stronger! Finally when the doc went to examine me (a different one than my usual Doc, who had left on vacation two days before), and I was 3+ cm! This doc's opinion was that I was in active labor ON MY OWN, and he wanted to admit me to the hospital!!
I was SO excited! This was it! My body had gone into labor on it's own!!
We drove to Winnie Palmer straight from the Doctor's office.
Once we got there, I changed into my stylish, ceremonial, backless hospital gown and got hooked up to an IV (after a painful failed attempt of course that left a rather nasty bruise on my arm.)
The Doc came in and decided to break my water to get the contractions going a bit more.
ummm...ewww.
That's all I have to say about that.
Sure enough, not long after, my contractions starting getting a lot more painful. My plan was to stay on my feet as long as possible, so they brought me the "birthing ball," which is just a glorified exercise ball. I got on it and started bouncing/breathing/walking through contractions.
Unbeknownst to me, they had hooked up a bag on pitocin. The nurse decided to turn it on (the lowest dose), and I didn't even know, until all of the sudden, my contractions became HARDCORE! I worked through them as best as I could. The only thing that seemed to help was putting all of my weight on Jon.
The pain was UNREAL. They took me off the pitocin, but it had already reared it's consequences. I was determined that as long as it was my body was naturally doing it, I would try to go until I was 6cm or 7cm before I got an epidural. Then I discovered that they had turned the Pitocin on, and at that point I was inconsolable.
The atmosphere in the room quickly changed, when I had a contraction so bad, that I was brought to tears...not during, but AFTER it...because I was scared of the next one coming!
About that time...like a angel from the Glorious Heaven above, the anesthesiologist, dressed in white, glowing like the morning sun, came gliding weightlessly into the room for a "consult."
I felt my resolve melting. I reconciled my guilt by telling her I wanted to remain on my feet, and she said...
"No problem! I'm the only anesthesiologist in the hospital that does a 'walking epi.' It will take the edge of the contractions, but it won't take away all of the pain, so you'll be able to be on your feet!"
Great! That sounded awesome. So I agreed. It was SO hard to sit still through the epidural, because the contractions were still knocking the breath out of me!
Once it was complete, I almost immediately felt relief. Just like the Doc said, the edge was gone. About that time the nurse came in to check my progress. I was at 5cm. So I didn't make it to the 6 like I had hoped...
The nurse decided to turn the pitocin back on. I thought it was unnecessary, I was moving quite fast!
As soon as she turned it on again, next thing I know, I've got nurses running in the room, lowering my bed, putting an oxygen mask on my face, and moving me all sorts of ways on the bed.
His heart rate had dropped to 90. Then to 70.
Then they lost it.
It was terrifying! It took almost a full minute and half to get it back and going again! It was so scary. I literally have never been so terrified in my life!
The nurse decided to turn off the pitocin again. It's my opinion that the pitocin is what caused the heart rate to drop.
At that point they decided that the external monitors weren't good enough. They needed internal ones to keep better track of his heart, now that there was concern. (I wish I had read up on this. Turns out internal monitoring has a lot risk involved with it. Not to mention that my son now has a permanent scar on his head, where hair will never grow, because they screw the monitor into his head!)
This sucked, because now with the internals, I was confined to the bed. No more walking around. No more bouncing. I was stuck on my back. The contractions hurt worse when I was on my back, so I decided to go ahead and get the full blown epidural, which was just a matter of switching bags.
Now pain free, I suddenly saw this long drawn out labor in front of me! Slow progression...if any...I saw myself on the operating table getting prepped for surgery...ughhhh, great...
However, much to my surprise, about an hour later the nurse checked me again and I was at 8cm!
After that check, I decided I wanted to shift positions. So I turned on my side, and suddenly Maverick's heart rate dived again!
Another rush of nurses, another dose of oxygen, another terrifying minute.
About an hour later...the same thing.
The nurses and midwife started talking in soft voices about a c-section.
"The baby just isn't handling the contractions very well..."
The midwife said, if the baby goes into distress again, you won't have a choice. A healthy baby is the number one concern.
Oh no! I loathed the idea of a c-section, but now I didn't care...I just wanted him to be okay! Wheel me in! I don't care if you don't have time to numb me completely! Just get him out! Let him be okay!
To my relief, we managed to make it another couple of hours without the baby distressing.
The midwife came in around midnight to check my progress, clearly not expecting me to be very far along, since the pitocin had been turned off.
She went to check, and with a startled expression said,
"There is no more cervix! There is a baby!"
So I was complete!!! It was time to push!
Holy Cow! I wasn't ready for this!! This is it!! I'm about to meet my son!
I was so nervous!
So they start getting everything prepped. They turned on the baby warmer, flipped on the lights, brought in a little baby sized table...
It was all so real suddenly. I started having all these doubts. Could I really do this? What happens if his heart stops??
I starting shaking uncontrollably. MY heart rate went up!
But I knew I had to pull it together.
A word here about my mom and husband. They were so supportive. Jon just kept telling me how strong I was and how proud he was of me. My mom just kept telling me I could do it, and pumped me up by saying things like "He's almost here!" "Only seconds now before you get to hold him!" I really couldn't ask for better coaches.
The midwife explained to me that with every contraction I would push for three ten second periods, and that the third ten seconds were the most important, because the progress compounded.
So the contraction came, and I pushed!
I have to say it was very difficult, at first, with the epidural, to push. I couldn't tell if I was just making my face red, or actually pushing the baby out!
I finally got the hang of it though. It was just a matter of concentrating, not to mention, after a while I could feel the pressure.
The first couple of pushes were awesome! The top of the baby's head came right out.
Sure enough, just like I had predicted, at 12:05 the midwife exclaimed,
"Well...his hair is born! Good gracious!"
So he had hair. Lots of it! It was motivation. I wanted to see the rest of him!
But for the next hour, he was stuck between my pelvic bone and tail bone. With every push, he would rock out, and then when I was done pushing, he would rock back in.
We tried many different positions. First was the tried and true "legs up, head down" position, after that, they turned me on my side...That didn't work...
THEN they brought in this device that looked like something they used for torture in the middle ages. It was a giant bar that they wrapped a white sheet around. I was to thread my arms in the sheet and pull up every time I pushed.
I could tell they were getting desperate. Why wouldn't he come out the rest of the way? What was wrong?
After about 20 minutes of attempting this new method, with no progress, I saw the the midwife mouth the words "vacuum" and suddenly, I found a second wind...
I pushed like I'd never pushed before, and then...an hour and a half after I began, the midwife finally said,
"STOP STOP! He's coming!"
So she rushed to get the rest of the staff!
I could feel him! He was almost here!
Finally the midwife told me to push on last time. I gave it all I had.
And then, my life began.
It was in slow motion. He was placed on my chest, and I didn't see or hear anyone but my son. He looked at me, and all I could think to say was,
"Hey, I know you..."
He looked like he knew me too. He started to cry, and I started to cry...and I knew in that instant that this is what life was all about. This is why I was born. Not for the stage. Not for the music. Not for the rush of applause, or the feel of the spotlight. Not for the euphoria of reaction from a live audience. That was all self satisfying, something that meet some narcissistic need to feel important.
All of the reasons I thought I had existed before melted away with the sound of my son's first cry. It was as if my entire life had led up to this moment. This moment that seemed to go on forever, yet waste away as fast as it had come. Love at first sight was real. True love exists, and it didn't matter that before I met my husband, I had my doubts about parenthood, or bringing a child into this world. Selfishness. My doubts were nothing more than petty ambitions I had once thought would bring me some ounce true happiness.
My life, my love, the most important gig I have ever had or will ever have, began with the first gaze into my son's newborn eyes.
I knew I loved my job, the stage, my husband, my family, my friends, my music...but it all somehow shifted, and changed in that moment. My love for all those things amplified, yet moved aside at the same time.
It sounds funny, but I suddenly felt like the Grinch standing on top on Mt. Krumpit, looking down on Whoville...an outsider in my own life...thinking that's the way I liked it. When suddenly the sounds of the air filling my son's lungs, acted like the music sung by the Whos sweeping over the hilltops and mountains finally reaching my ears. And my heart, just like the Grinch's grew. There was a new space in my chest where there hadn't been before.
Maverick's place.
He was swept away to the warming table, and everything happened in regular time again. I heard my husbands voice, full of emotion telling me how proud he was of me, and how much he loved me. I loved him. Man, did I love him. I thought I had before, but..I had no idea...
My heart grew again.
My mom was on the other side stroking my hair, and I got it. I finally got it. She was my mother, Maverick was my son. I suddenly felt connected to her in a way I never had before. She loved me like this. The way I love my son. How could I have ever been a good enough daughter to deserve that kind of love?
My heart grew even bigger.
I was sure it was bulging out of my chest by now.
I hear the nurse say, "six pounds seven ounces!"
I hear the midwife say he was facing "sunny side up with cord wrapped around his neck..."
Then...I feel the warmest feeling rush over me. It took me minute to realize what it was, and then I knew. It was God's love washing over me. He protected my son, he protected me. He gave me my child.
He gave me His child.
Oh! How clear life is in the moments following the birth of a child. God, the perfect craftsman! He designed it to be this way!
The rest of the late evening was a rush. I saw my family, and my closest friends. I even felt the love sent from those who wanted to be there but couldn't. I felt the love from those who had gone on. There was a piece (and peace) of everyone who ever loved me in the hours that followed.
The calm after the storm was surreal. After everyone had left, and it was just Jon, Maverick, and myself, we spent that time in celebration and prayer.
What a gift we have. What Joy!
We fell asleep knowing we were the luckiest people to have ever lived.
The next day I felt like I had been hit by a truck...
Seriously, LOL... I was sore. But it didn't matter. We had an influx of visitors, and Maverick was taken to be checked up, and circumcised. We got used to feeding, burping and changing.
A word about breastfeeding.... another amazing perfect experience that God created. It truly is magical. The euphoric happiness you feel as you nourish your child...is unexplainable!
Coming home was perfect. My father had decorated the house, and bought me roses! We had a sign out from that read "It's A Boy!"
In the week or so that has followed, I would be lying if I didn't say it has been an adjustment. Getting used to his cries and what they mean, figuring out the correct way to change him and bathe him, dodging pee and projectile poop...it's all been a little hard...
But A LOT of fun.
We really feel so amazingly blessed. I can't believe God has entrusted me to care for this little blessing.
Life is such a miracle. Life is perfect. It will never be the same again.
And I am 100% okay with that!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
HAIRY Potter??
I have nice hair.
No, I have FANTASTIC hair.
I'm just saying, I do. It's one of those things I really like about myself! It's thick and long...and thanks to all the pre-natals it's VERY shiny! I can do anything with it, and it obeys. I can wear it curly, straight, up or down and it will probably look good.
In fact, I'm not going to lie... most days I just roll out of bed with rockstar hair...
I know, I sound AWFULLY full of myself don't I?
But wait! You don't understand what I've gone through to be able to say that! My hair and I haven't always had the most amorous of relationships. I am blessed (or what I believed at the age of 12 was "cursed") with naturally curly/wavy hair.
UN-lucky for me, puberty hit right before the time that the "flatiron" became available to the masses, and right after the time that the "stick straight" malnourished look of a heroine addicted model's hair became all the rage. So, needless to say, there was a brief period of time when my failed efforts to resemble Giselle Bundchen mixed in with the humidity of the Tampa Bay air made for some, well...embarrassingly frizzy Jr. High yearbook moments.
However thanks to Frizz Ease, the kind instruction of the empathetic beauty editors at SEVENTEEN magazine, and finally to the invention of the first flatiron I owned (which coincidentally also happened to have crimping plates... I believe hair fashion was in a transition phase), I was able to tame the tresses, and come out on top! And lo and behold, it turned out I had hair to be envious of!
Now God is not an unfair God. No, no, no. You see, there has to be a balance. If you have thin/fine hair that won't hold body...I'm sorry, I can see how that would be frustrating. But, do I completely sympathize for you?
No.
Why? Because you can probably shave your legs in the morning, and then crawl into bed at night with your sweetie, without him screaming in pain as his legs brush against yours! Because your arm hair doesn't get tangled in your accessories. Because if you don't tweeze for a week, you're not in danger of being mistaken for Jim Henson creation that resides in a garbage pail.
That's right, I pay for my beautiful locks in ways you've never even imagined.
Trust me. Don't imagine it.
I started shaving my legs one Saturday when I was 10 years old. Not because I wanted to...but because I was going to be a junior bridesmaid in a wedding that day. The white tights, trying really hard to contain the proverbial forest beneath them, resembled a newly sprouting Chia Pet.
Not cute.
As I stood there in front of my mom, it was QUITE clear that I was my father's child, and my Cajun hertitage could not be masked despite Hanes' best efforts.
She looked me up and down, furrowed her perfectly shaped NEVER tweezed eyebrows, drummed her finger on her virtually hairless arms, and reluctantly led me to the bathroom. It was there I began (what should be for ME anyway) the daily ritual all women endure...
So, yes, my relationship with my hair...in all it's forms... is a love/hate one.
But I've learned to love the love!
Now Jonathan...
Like me, he was born with a FULL head of hair. Well, not JUST head. Forehead also :) Yup, he was a little monkey baby with hair reaching down all the way to his eyebrows!
Well, of course he's a hairy guy! He's half mexican for goodness sake!
PLUS to top it off, his hair is CURLY.
And I don't mean curly like my hair...I mean curly like...Shirley Temple.
If Jon tried to grow out his hair, he would have an honest to goodness fro. A good ole fashioned white boy fro.
I personally think it's adorable. He doesn't agree.
He, like me, spent the mojority of his life fighting AGAINST what his hair naturally wanted to do. It was only when he was too young to make his own decisions about his hair, that it shone in all it's natural glory!
That's right Mrs. Susie Sanchez let those precious little tendrils grow and fall across her son's precious face! Oh! You should see the pictures! SO adorable was this little boy with his curly locks! Apparently it stayed that way until Jon's dad, Oscar, decided it was time to cut it short after Jon was apparently mistaken for a girl out in public...
Since then Jon has kept his hair as short as possible...even shaving it off a couple of times in high school and college. His hair grows SO fast. He needs a cut every week and half to two weeks!
I, of course, encourage him to grow it a little longer, so everyone can see how beautifully curly his hair is.
He, of course, doesn't oblige.
It's a shame really. Sort of a waste of a beautiful head of hair...
Until now :)
Why am I going on about hair? Well...
On Monday, Jon and I had our last ultrasound of the pregnancy. We got to see what position the baby was in (head down, yay!), how his heart was doing (beating strong), and even how big he is measuring (6lbs 5oz estimated with 3 weeks to go! Gulp...)
But there was one thing the ultrasound tech could NOT get over...
Maverick's hair.
She exclaimed,"I RARELY see anything like this! I can actually see it on the ultrasound!"
Now I know these things are kind of hard to see. But Maverick is actually facing us head on. It appears as though he's already got an inch and a half of hair on his head. It's sticking straight up, like a flat top in this pic.
Throughout the entire scan, The techwould shake her head in amazement and mutter to herself.
Ocassionally, I would catch phrases like "so much hair" and words like"furry," She pointed out fuzz all over his body.
I just shook my head and smiled, because I didn't expect ANYTHING different! How could a child of Ashley Draper and Jonathan Sanchez look like anything other than a miniature gorilla??
Now I am not complaining! Quite the contrary actually! I'm personally excited about it! I'm especially thrilled about comparing the difference between my 10 week old nephewJoshua, and Maverick.
You see Joshua could be a Gerber baby. He has (and has had since birth) a perfectly round, virtually bald little head, with pretty blue eyes and porcelain skin. He is the picture perfect portrait of a Johnson and Johnson billboard.
I can see Maverick now. Coming out all pointy-headed, with dark olive skin, hair reaching across his forehead and down his back, and the beginnings of a uni brow :)
And to think, they'll be cousins!
I can't wait!! :)
And yes, I WILL grow out his curly hair! I can promise you now, that it will take a force of nature to convince me to cut it.
That is until he's out with Daddy one day, and someone comments on his beautiful daughter's precious little curls. Then Daddy might take matters into his OWN hands.
History does have a way of repeating itself....
And on that note, here's to hoping there will never be a reason to squeeze Mavericks legs in to little white tights... ;)
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Baby Progress...
We moved to Clermont about 4 1/2 months ago. We are living in THE most adorable little 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom house!
When we were looking for a place to live, I was already 3 1/2 months pregnant...so a sufficient nursery space was at the top of our list!
Well, those who know me, know that I am a pretty meticulous person, when it comes to what I want. The MAJOR problem there, is that I seldom posses the talent or skills with which to carry out these visions. That's where my talented friends and family come into the picture!
I never earned decent grades in Art class...it was not my forte :)
I could see my vision for the nursery in my mind, and could barely translate it into stick figure form. Luckily my mother, father, and husband were SOMEHOW able to bring my vision to life!
Jon and I agreed to do the elephant theme. We saw a cute elephant blanket, and fell in love...we ran with it!
So... here it is! There are just a couple of things left to do. We have to hang a curtain, and the belly cast you see on the dresser, will be hung on the wall to the right of the "Maverick" wooden letters...just as soon as I write Jeremiah 1:5 on the belly :)
The quote above the crib, in case your vision is as terrible as mine, is from Dumbo and the one of the most moving songs/lullabyes ever written, "Baby Mine,"
"Rest your head, close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine..." Just typing it makes me teary!
So, I MUST give credit where credit is due! A virtual round of applause for the following people;
The amazing monogramed goodies are thanks to the lovely and talented ladies Amy Terechenok, and Deborah Defoor.
The stripes are courtesy of my father! He measured, drew, and labeled every stripe!! Thanks daddy!
The stripes were painstakingly painted and touched up by Melanie Stringer and Andrea Stack, the two bestest friends a gal could have!
That RIDICULOUSLY sickening cute elephant was hand-painted by my VERY talented mother!!
And the dandelion and chair rail? Ladies and Gentlemen...I give you Jon Sanchez! Who knew? We can add carpenter AND artist extraordinaire to his long list of incredible attributes! Yet ANOTHER reason to keep him around, I think ;)
The beautiful furniture was graciously given to us by Jon's amazing parents and sister! It's so beautiful!
What do you think??
Well...I do have ONE last picture of the nursery to add...but I do it reluctantly...and not just because you can see the plastic hanger strip dangling out of my sleeve...but because I feel HUGE! And just in case you want to say "no way Ash!" I am also adding the first picture I took when I found out I was preggers! (I was 8 weeks at the time.)
Soon folks! VERY soon I will one day look just as good in a nudeitard (for those who don't know, this is what we wear under our Nemo costumes!)
Ah, to see my feet again....
But for now, I'll kick those feet up with a bowl of bon bons in my brand new, PERFECT nursery and wait for our little miracle to arrive!
When we were looking for a place to live, I was already 3 1/2 months pregnant...so a sufficient nursery space was at the top of our list!
Well, those who know me, know that I am a pretty meticulous person, when it comes to what I want. The MAJOR problem there, is that I seldom posses the talent or skills with which to carry out these visions. That's where my talented friends and family come into the picture!
I never earned decent grades in Art class...it was not my forte :)
I could see my vision for the nursery in my mind, and could barely translate it into stick figure form. Luckily my mother, father, and husband were SOMEHOW able to bring my vision to life!
Jon and I agreed to do the elephant theme. We saw a cute elephant blanket, and fell in love...we ran with it!
So... here it is! There are just a couple of things left to do. We have to hang a curtain, and the belly cast you see on the dresser, will be hung on the wall to the right of the "Maverick" wooden letters...just as soon as I write Jeremiah 1:5 on the belly :)
The quote above the crib, in case your vision is as terrible as mine, is from Dumbo and the one of the most moving songs/lullabyes ever written, "Baby Mine,"
"Rest your head, close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine..." Just typing it makes me teary!
So, I MUST give credit where credit is due! A virtual round of applause for the following people;
The amazing monogramed goodies are thanks to the lovely and talented ladies Amy Terechenok, and Deborah Defoor.
The stripes are courtesy of my father! He measured, drew, and labeled every stripe!! Thanks daddy!
The stripes were painstakingly painted and touched up by Melanie Stringer and Andrea Stack, the two bestest friends a gal could have!
That RIDICULOUSLY sickening cute elephant was hand-painted by my VERY talented mother!!
And the dandelion and chair rail? Ladies and Gentlemen...I give you Jon Sanchez! Who knew? We can add carpenter AND artist extraordinaire to his long list of incredible attributes! Yet ANOTHER reason to keep him around, I think ;)
The beautiful furniture was graciously given to us by Jon's amazing parents and sister! It's so beautiful!
What do you think??
Well...I do have ONE last picture of the nursery to add...but I do it reluctantly...and not just because you can see the plastic hanger strip dangling out of my sleeve...but because I feel HUGE! And just in case you want to say "no way Ash!" I am also adding the first picture I took when I found out I was preggers! (I was 8 weeks at the time.)
Soon folks! VERY soon I will one day look just as good in a nudeitard (for those who don't know, this is what we wear under our Nemo costumes!)
Ah, to see my feet again....
But for now, I'll kick those feet up with a bowl of bon bons in my brand new, PERFECT nursery and wait for our little miracle to arrive!
Welcome! Come right in, pull up a...mouse...
So many miles separate the various members of our friends & family.
Admittedly that is mostly the fault of yours truly, as Jon managed to grow up and stay in one town for 21 years. I don't think I've ever lived under one roof for longer than, wow...I guess 3 1/2 years!
What can I say? I get restless...
So what better way to bridge the gap of distance than to divulge the daily droning of our little family on the world wide web?
Well, I think it's a good idea...
So thanks to the wonderful world of technology, the (ahem) GENIUS ability I possess to captivate an audience via personal narrative, and of course the fact that there is a third member of the family on the way that...let's face it... everyone reading this has more interest in anyway ... we have decided to start a blog!
Yay us!
Of course the purpose of this project, is to share with all of you the joys of our wonderful little life.
And that's exactly what we have here in the Sanchez household.
An amazing, happy, loving, wonderful little life.
It sounds so simple doesn't it...and yet SO difficult to come by these days...
So join us! That is if you can stand my poor grammer habits of digressing and ridiculously long run on sentances....
We are just a few very short weeks away from meeting our first child; Maverick James Sanchez.
In other words, things can only get more interesting very quickly!
So stay tuned! Because later today an influx of pictures will be added! From pics of our little guy in utero, to our (almost) finished nursey!
Be stoked. I know I am :)
Admittedly that is mostly the fault of yours truly, as Jon managed to grow up and stay in one town for 21 years. I don't think I've ever lived under one roof for longer than, wow...I guess 3 1/2 years!
What can I say? I get restless...
So what better way to bridge the gap of distance than to divulge the daily droning of our little family on the world wide web?
Well, I think it's a good idea...
So thanks to the wonderful world of technology, the (ahem) GENIUS ability I possess to captivate an audience via personal narrative, and of course the fact that there is a third member of the family on the way that...let's face it... everyone reading this has more interest in anyway ... we have decided to start a blog!
Yay us!
Of course the purpose of this project, is to share with all of you the joys of our wonderful little life.
And that's exactly what we have here in the Sanchez household.
An amazing, happy, loving, wonderful little life.
It sounds so simple doesn't it...and yet SO difficult to come by these days...
So join us! That is if you can stand my poor grammer habits of digressing and ridiculously long run on sentances....
We are just a few very short weeks away from meeting our first child; Maverick James Sanchez.
In other words, things can only get more interesting very quickly!
So stay tuned! Because later today an influx of pictures will be added! From pics of our little guy in utero, to our (almost) finished nursey!
Be stoked. I know I am :)
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