Jailbreak Baby - Welcoming Liam Adam McGee

I thought I'd start this blog update out with a warning. I am a bit sleep deprived, and I've had to stop writing this 4 or 5 different times for diaper changes, feeding, and bath time. But the longer I go without writing this, the more I'm afraid that I will forget something. So this entry is going to be more of a memory dump than anything else.....

We. Are. In. Love.  Our little man made his appearance in dramatic fashion last Thursday, March 14th. I was 35 weeks and 1 day. I had been experiencing pretty intense contractions the day before, and that night around midnight we headed into the hospital. I was a little nervous that he might be trying to come too early. Boy's lungs develop later than girls, especially "wimpy white boys" as the nurses referred to them, and I knew there was a good chance that he would have to spend some time in the NICU. I remember silently saying a prayer in the car on the way to the hospital, when Brandon and I saw a shooting star light across the sky. My first shooting star ever. I know this might sound a little ridiculous or hokey (sp?), but after that I began to calm down. 

After a few hours in the labor and delivery room, I was told that I was experiencing what they referred to as "titanic contractions". These suckers were lasting 7 and 8 minutes long. Pretty uncomfortable too. Since I wasn't dilating, aka in "active labor", the plan was to discharge me and have us come back when my contractions became more steady and were closer together. I thank God every day that they didn't discharge me. I shutter to think of the horribleness that could have followed. Fifteen minutes before I was set to be discharged, I had another one of these titantic contractions, except this time his heart rate dropped dangerously low for five minutes. After that, every time I had a contraction his heart rate dropped. One time it got as low as 60. (His regular heart rate was between 155 - 160 so you can imagine how scary this was for all of us.) This was a game changer and we were told I had to stay for observation until my high risk doctor could come in and do a sonogram...5 hours later. What's strange, is that during those five hours I kept thinking that everything was going to be okay and that we were going to be sent home. 

The doctor arrived a little before 2pm and began the sonogram. I had another contraction while she was performing it, and the next thing I know she abruptly stopped and stepped aside to make a call to my doctor who was on her way to the hospital. It was at that point that several nurses walked into the room and started moving around and unhooking me from the machines. After everything was said and done, Brandon later told me he saw the head nurse make a cutting motion across her stomach to let the other nurses know that they had to prep for a c-section. The nurse calmly told me that everything was okay at the moment, but that the umbilical cord was wrapped around Liam's neck TWICE. Every time I had one of these contractions it was squeezing around his throat causing his heart rate to drop. Within five minutes they threw cover ups to Brandon and told him to put them on, and started wheeling me into the O.R. to start an epidural. 

I was terrified. First of all, the last thing I wanted was a c-section. Second of all, I wasn't sure what to think about Liam's safety. Everyone around me had a chaotic calm about them, and I could tell that they were purposefully not talking to each other about what was happening in front of me. All of the nurses kept assuring me that Liam was still breathing fine "for the moment" and not to worry. They must have repeated it 5 or 6 times in about a 3 minute period before I told them that their constant assurance was telling me that things could not be fine at any minute and asked them to stop saying it before Brandon came in the room. I suddenly went from not wanting a c-section to holding back the urge to scream at everyone to hurry up and get him out of me before something bad happened. The next thing I know, Brandon is in the room telling me that everything is going to be okay and being INCREDIBLY calming and supportive. I think that we were both so scared of showing the other person how worried we were, that we both ended up being stronger for it. I remember slightly panicking because I could feel the doctor touching my lower body, and told her that I didn't think I was numb enough yet. That's when she told me that she had been "pinching the you know what out of me" and that I had nothing to worry about. Within minutes I could smell the burning of the laser cutting through my muscles, and felt the most intense pressure I've ever felt that almost took my breath away. Then I remember hearing my doctor say the words "well hey there little guy", followed by the most amazing noise I have ever heard. My sweet little boy started crying. I got to see him for a total of 2 seconds before the NICU team had him and began their check to make sure he was breathing on his own and didn't have any major problems for being a premie. Thankfully, my doctor stopped what she was doing to come over and tell me when the NICU team had left and that he was doing fine. I honestly don't think I have prayed so much in my entire life. While all this was happening, my anesthesiologist decided Brandon was slacking on the picture taking, and grabbed my phone and camera and started acting like a photographer in the middle of a photo shoot. Looking back I'm thankful that she did this, but at the time I was a little disturbed that she was so busy taking pictures and not watching my vitals. 

Before I knew it, we were all back in the hospital room and I had my little angel sleeping on my chest. He was born at 2:47pm weighing 5 lbs 10 oz, and measuring 17 inches long.

I can't say this enough, but we are so blessed, and so eternally grateful that our little man is so healthy. During our stay, every nurse told us how just how lucky we were that he was so strong. They kept telling us that white boys have the most complications as premies and that we were incredibly lucky. The only obstacle we had with his health was a slight case of jaundice. We had to have him lay under a UV light for 24 hours the second day to help get his color back and get rid of all the toxins in his body. That was pretty rough because he hated it, but in the grand scheme of things it was a small price to pay. Other than that, he has been absolutely perfect. Brandon and I are obsessed. I never knew it was possible to love someone so much. I've had little sleep, I've been peed and pooped on more times than I can count..and I could care less. I have to force myself to give him to Brandon, or to let him sit in his swing instead of holding him 24 hours a day. 

And to top it all off, Brandon has been an amazing dad and husband through it all. He kept me calm during the c-section, and was so involved in the hospital that the nurses would comment on how lucky Liam and I are. He has helped keep the house clean, and has been great at giving me a break so that I can shower and do whatever it is that I want to do around the house when I want to do it. Now if only I can get him to change more diapers :) 

I've never been so happy in my whole life. So much so that sometimes it scares me. Last Thursday was the best day of our lives, and I honestly don't know how anything will ever compare.

December-ary Craziness

I thought I would combine the last few month's happenings into one post because (1) I've been a slacker and haven't written anything and (2) my memory has become TERRIBLE and I can't remember enough to make two different blog entries.

 In December, (6th month of pregnancy) Brandon and I ran around like crazy people. We had decided that we would hold off on baby stuff until after the holidays, and spent every weekend getting settled into our house and preparing for Christmas with our families. I had a lot of energy and felt pretty amazing for the most part. I was finally starting to show a bit, and started to notice that perfect strangers were so much friendlier to me. I even had one guy offer to give up his chair one morning when we were waiting to be seated for breakfast! Who knew that all you had to do was get pregnant for people to be friendly to you?

But of course, along with the friendliness, came some nastiness... And most of it went a little something like this:

"How far along are you? WHAT?!? Are you sure you're that far along? You look awfully small. Is there something wrong with your baby? Are you sure you are eating enough? You shouldn't be worrying about your calories you know.. how much are you eating?. You look awfully skinny still. When I was as far along as you I was MUCH bigger BLA BLA BLA".

I was pretty good at taking these comments in stride and would smile and refrain from responding with a snarky comment. [Side note: If you know me at all, you will know that not speaking my mind to these people was a minor miracle.] But I always felt like I had to justify my size (or lack thereof) by responding with the usual "I eat plenty and my doctor says that my weight and baby are perfectly healthy and on-track".  Then one day, a not-so-stranger made a similar comment to me, and I completely lost it. I managed to suck it up during the conversation, and then went home and had a pregnancy sized meltdown to Brandon about how much I hated the world. He was patient. I was dramatic. There were lots of tears.

I know that some people may think that telling me I'm too small is a compliment, and that I shouldn't take it personally or get upset. They would be wrong. There is a difference between telling me I look great, and telling me I'm too small and questioning if I'm eating enough. By accusing me of not eating enough, you might as well accuse me of starving my baby. It is hurtful. It is rude. And people need to learn to keep certain opinions to themselves. I shouldn't have to feel horrible about myself because I eat healthy. Is it okay to walk up to a woman that is pregnant and say "Damn, you are HUUUUGE, are you sure you should be eating that? You look like you have gained too much weight!" I don't think so. So why is it okay to say the opposite? It shouldn't be.

Now thankfully, I am seven months (29 weeks), and I am DEFINITELY showing/no longer getting the too small comments. My stomach is getting bigger by the day, and Liam is getting painfully strong. My skin feels like it's going to burst, and it's getting hard to breathe. I'm starting to worry that he has no more space to grow, but I'm constantly reminded by everyone that he will find a way :)

We have started to get into the nesting mode these past few weeks and IT IS SO EXCITING!! Two weeks ago we spent the weekend registering for Liam. After we finished we were completely exhausted and overwhelmed. Who knew a baby needed so much stuff?!?!  Brandon also did an amazing job painting Liam's nursery :)  This past weekend we picked up our nursery furniture and set it all up. Since then, I've caught Brandon sneaking upstairs a few times just to look at the nursery again :) It's these moments that make me love him even more than I already do. We've started imagining about what things will be like with Liam. What he will look like, his personality, etc. These next few months are going to be pretty tough to wait for his arrival. But if we can just get through them, I know that all of the waiting will be more than worth it :)

(6 months)

                                                                 (7 months)

Emergency Room Fun and Turkey

Today I am officially in my sixth month of pregnancy! At least I am according to my "what to expect when you're expecting" app. What did women ever do without the Internet and smartphone apps? I find myself having a hard time keeping track of what week I'm in, and this app has been a complete lifesaver. Nothing is worse than someone asking me how far along I am, only for me to hesitate and then be like "err ,<insert guess here>". What mom-to-be can't remember how far along she is?!?! This one!!! But I prefer to think it's not my fault. I don't understand why the counting of weeks, months, etc. has to be so complicated. Why do we have to start counting how many weeks someone is alive before they are even conceived? Technically, I should be at 5.25 months..but according to the book my doctor gave me I've entered into my 6th month. Too confusing.  I don't know how many times I've had to explain to people that yes, Brandon and I have cleared our wedding date and that I'm as far along as I am because of the wacky gestational v. who knows what it's called ages. I've had several people, including some of my own family members, pause to do the math in their heads... Too funny.

So last week was Thanksgiving, and of course we started it off in dramatic fashion at the McGee house with a trip to the emergency room late Tuesday night. I have experienced a LOT of pain thanks to my dear friend Celiac disease, but nothing has felt as horrible as the pain I was experiencing Tuesday. We are talking can't move-can't breath-someone please kill me pains in my left ribs/side area. I usually have the mentality that ER's are only for dying or because you about to die from bleeding so much, so I'm sure I shocked the heck out of Brandon when I woke him up to drive me.

Long story short, 6 hours and 2 shots of morphine later, we were headed home with absolutely no explanation as to why I was STILL hurting (although the morphine did take some of the edge off). All we knew was that the baby was fine and I had no kidney stones. Did I mention I'm not a fan of emergency rooms??  After following up with my doctor the next day it was determined that I had all the symptoms of a pinched nerve and that because of my small frame I might need to see a specialist if it gets any worse. So. Awesome.

Anyways, the rest of Thanksgiving was nice. We spent Thanksgiving with my mom's family in Austin. My sister-in-law aka "Prego Buddy" (shout out Angie!) is almost exactly a month behind me, so it's always fun to be around her and talk about how are babies will be the bestest of friends.

 Liam attended his first UT football game. He was kicking like a maniac as I screamed and stressed out while the Longhorns ripped out my heart. (I'm allowed to be dramatic when it comes to UT football).  But on the bright side, my aunt got Liam a great care package of Longhorn gear. I am so thankful for her. I can't WAIT for him to wear it :) Now all we need is some Cowboys and Rangers gear and he will be all set!

                             (All that is missing is the bib she got us that says "I spit up on Aggies")

Liam has been kicking a lot harder and more often. I'm also starting to feel him turning over, or doing some kind of weird movement in there. And today the doctor called to get things planned for his circumcision. He is going to absolutely LOVE me for putting this part on the Internet in a few years :) I didn't even realize it was an option? I thought that that was pretty much a go these days.  After I hung up with the nurse I had a minor freak out that I didn't ask Brandon his opinion and quickly called him. Thankfully he agreed. I can blame that on "pregnancy brain" right? ;) Although, I will say that the word "barbaric" came out of his mouth right before he said yes.

All in all, things are looking good and in two weeks we will get to see our little man again <3. But in the mean time, here's a sonogram pic we have from 2.5 weeks ago. I promised I wouldn't put sono pics up on facebook..but I'm going to make an exception since this is the whole point to the blog.

                                                        Liam at 18 weeks 4 days

Kicks and Punches

So I've decided to start a blog. Not because I think anyone cares about anything that I think/say, but mostly because I am horrible at keeping up with my paper journals, and I know one day I will look back on this time and wish I had kept better track of all of these exciting memories. I debated about blogging because obviously I refuse to put anything too emotional/personal online for everyone to see...but then I thought that maybe the filtered version of memories would be better to remember anyways :) Plus, when Liam comes this will be an easy way to share updates/pictures with family. So here goes nothing...

First things first. I'm 19 weeks pregnant. (four months and change). Surprised?!?! Brandon and I have been on the fast track it seems since we first started dating. We were engaged within two months of beginning to date, married within a year, and will now have a baby boy within two years. Some people may say we are crazy, or destined to fail, but I like to think of us as two people who finally found what we were looking for in each other.

I think it's safe to say that pregnancy has not been so kind. No one ever talks about all of the dark and scary things that come along with pregnancy. I don't know how many times I've been told by my friends, co-workers, and strangers about how pregnancy is the "most wonderful feeling" and that they "wished they were pregnant again". Whenever someone says something like this to me I envision punching them in the face. Seriously. What exactly am I missing here?!?! Because to be honest, if it's "such a wonderful feeling", then I feel completely cheated. Don't get me wrong, I am thrilled to be having a baby, and all of the sickness, pain, etc. is TOTALLY worth it. But I wouldn't call being pregnant wonderful. So of course whenever someone tells me how wonderful it all is I get this overwhelming guilty feeling that I haven't been able to shake. I keep thinking I am going to be this horrible mother/person because I don't particularly like being pregnant.

But yesterday, I came to the conclusion that everyone who keeps saying that being pregnant was/is the "most wonderful feeling", must be forgetting all of the horribleness and only remembering the wonderful moments. Which leads me to the reason for starting this blog today.

I've been feeling little Liam kick for about two weeks now. Since most women don't even realize their baby is kicking this early, I expected it would be about another month before Brandon could feel anything. If anyone knows or has spoken to Brandon since I've gotten pregnant, they will know that he is completely over the moon about becoming a dad. He has been so supportive, has gone to every Dr. appointment, and has pretty much talked to my stomach everyday since day one. He is going to be an A-M-A-Z-I-N-G dad. Period. Every day I thank God that I have such a wonderful husband. So you can only imagine how hard it has been to see the look of sadness/disappointment on his face every time I feel Liam kick and he can't. Until yesterday. Yesterday I had what I can only assume are those "most wonderful feeling" moments that everyone keeps talking about.

We were sitting around watching ESPN and getting our fantasy line ups in order over coffee. (Before anyone begins to silently judge or shake their head, my doctor allows for me to have caffeine in moderation). Liam began kicking particularly hard, so I told Brandon to come over and put his hand over my belly just in case.  It took about a minute of staring at Brandon's face (and a lot of silent praying on my part) before I felt a kick and saw Brandon's face completely light up.

I have been lucky enough to experience incredible moments of overwhelming joy in my life. But nothing so far can come close to the feeling I got when I saw Brandon feel our little man for the first time. And it was in that moment of excitement, that I promised myself to never imagine punching another person that says "pregnancy is the most wonderful feeling", or at least try not to ;)