It's called LABOR for a reason.

I said it more than once during my pregnancy- I was going to “get it” during labor and delivery. And by “it” I meant whatever was difficult, challenging, and would even out the fact that I had such and easy pregnancy. I suppose there are those women who are lucky enough to have an easy pregnancy AND an easy delivery, but I kept my expectations in check. In pregnancy: no morning sickness- check; no indigestion- check; no constipation- check; no weird cravings like wanting to eat laundry detergent- check; and no other common pregnancy side-effects- check. I did get fat, but that’s what happens when you make snack cakes and ice cream two of your major food groups. Maybe I was comfort eating. The fears of having a difficult labor could only be calmed by the crème-filled, chocolate goodness of Ding Dongs. Apparently, I had a LOT of fears!

In typical Stadler fashion, the baby was late and after a week my doctor suggested we induce labor. At 41 weeks pregnant, fat, hot, and waddling, I agreed.

I had three hours of pitocin before they turned if off to let me sleep through the night. My “through the night” usually involves waking up around 9am, but apparently that’s hotel not hospital time. Their good night’s sleep ended at 5am when they cranked up the medication.

Around 11am, I succumbed to that bit of pain where your body is preparing to evict the person living inside there- whom you hope hasn’t gotten as fat as you have- and I asked for an epidural. “Are your legs feeling warm and tingly?” the nurse asked me for the next twenty minutes. “I’m sorry, I’m in LABOR! Did you just use the words ‘warm and tingly’? Because I forgot I even have legs due to the sledge hammer pounding my lower back.” Um yeah… that epidural didn’t work. Twenty minutes later I had a new epidural and a new attitude about labor. Not even a case of Ding Dongs could have made me that happy.

By 1pm I was nearly passing out in 10-second intervals as I held my breath to push. I’m not entirely positive because I’ve had some not-so-good hair days, but I’m pretty sure that was one of my least attractive moments in life. Thank God pain has the power to trump vanity.

An hour passed with little progress because not only had the baby not dropped, he was turned wrong. And just when I thought this was the “it” I was getting in labor, a tornado warning was issued for Davidson County. I’m not even kidding. Do you know what happens in a hospital when there’s a tornado warning? Patients have to move out into the hallway. That’s right. Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just in the middle of trying to PUSH A PERSON OUT MY ORRIFICE! The only positive thing I can say about the experience is that they decided to let me rest instead of push on public display. The whole rest period lasted about 30 minutes until, of course, the epidural started to wear off… ‘cause that’s what happens when you have to wait on a tornado. After a re-dose and another ten minutes or so, we got the “all clear” to return to the room and spend another 30 minutes of wasted effort, during which the doctor tried to manually turn the baby… with her HAND… on his HEAD! If there was any doubt before, I was positive this was the “IT” I was due. The amount of pain in this process was enough that I would have rather delivered a 14 lb baby, in a tornado, in front of everyone in the hospital, without an epidural. THAT would have been a treat in comparison.

The baby never dropped or turned, so I opted for a caesarian… just to top off the whole labor experience. I mean, what non-working epidural, ineffective pushing, tornado warning, baby-turning labor would be complete without a little surgery?

In the end, I got more than my share of “it” in labor and delivery. And it was totally worth it.

Andrew Jonathan Stadler
“Drew”
born Tuesday, June 16, 2009
7lbs 14oz
20 ¾ inches long

Blog Update

Due to the birth of our son and adjusting to life as a new mom, I have neglected my blog for the past month. My computer is currently not working (I'm borrowing Jon's when I can), but I hope to return to regular blog posts beginning next week. Please come back for the eventful story of our son's birth!!

My Husband- the TV Junkie

A conversation with Jon as we were discussing our pre-labor "to do" lists:

Me: You know you need to pack a bag for the hospital too.

Jon: I do?

Me: Yeah. You'll need a change of clothes and stuff. Although we'll only be 10 minutes from the house, so you could run home if you want to... but you probably won't want to leave...

Jon: Yeah, you're probably right.

Me: ... 'cause they have cable.

Jon: I'll put packing a bag on my "to do" list.

That's what I thought.

Packing Heat... sort of

Meet the "Grizzly".

Before you start thinking I’ve joined the NRA and installed a gun rack in the back window of my Mazda, it’s just a BB/pellet gun. But then again, it’s so much more than that. It’s the arsenal for my war with the stray dogs.

How heartless I must seem to all you dog lovers out there. Maybe I am, but I would argue it’s no different than spanking your children. There’s a momentary sting of unpleasantness, but the lessons of obedience and discipline are needed. Unless you’re someone who doesn’t believe in spanking your children- in which case you can call me heartless and I’ll call you wrong. Then we can move on with our lives.

The Grizzly is my last alternative to the stray dog problem. I’m hoping the dogs will soon make an association. They come into our yard. I bust a cap in their butts. It stings. They run. And hopefully it doesn’t take long for them to make the connection.

I borrowed the gun from my nephew. He tried to loan me a more powerful one that weighed about ten pounds. If I had stray moose in my yard it may have been an option, but I opted for the lightweight, less powerful one. I’m not completely heartless.

Now, I just need some ammo. A trip to Target and I’ll be armed for battle. Yes, I’ll be the VERY pregnant woman sitting on the back deck, with my feet propped up, drinking iced tea with a camo gun slung over my shoulder. You can take the girl out of Mississippi, but you can’t take the Mississippi out of the girl.

My Canine Gang War

What do you get when you live in the hood?
- A neighbor who knocks your peach tree down with a riding mower, hauls it off and never says anything about it? Yep.
- Your car ransacked in the middle of the night and several items stolen? Jon’s was.
- Low-rider drive-by with the bass thumping so loudly the whole house shakes? Oh, yeah.
- Frequent police visits to the house across the street? Of course.

And apparently, you also get packs of stray dogs that hang out in your backyard. It’s a dog gang really. There is clearly a leader who comes to bark at our neighbor’s dog that stays fenced in his yard. The other gang dogs just sit, lie, poop, bark, and hang out in our yard. It’s a nuisance that has driven me to anger many a morning at 1:00am.

This time of year, I like to sleep with the windows open. Not only do I enjoy the night air, but we can keep the house cool without running the AC. Until that incessant barking! I always try to sleep through it, but end up jumping out of bed, mumbling expletives under my breath and slamming the window shut.

Recently, I’ve noticed the dogs making themselves at home underneath our deck. Great. Next thing you know, they’ll be having gang initiations in our backyard. Not to mention one of them is VERY pregnant and this has to be stopped before a litter of puppies is delivered on our property.

Solutions?
1. Animal Control: Been there, done that. I called. They drove by. The dogs weren’t there and they moved on. Just another failure to capitalize on my tax dollars.
2.Yelling “GIT”? That’s my Mississippi coming out. I’ve yelled at them several times. They slowly walk away, mumbling death threats under their breaths and probably plotting what they’ll pee on next.
3. Throwing rocks. Oh, I’ve done that too (not at the pregnant dog). Only at nine months pregnant, my ability to twist and throw isn’t what it used to be. They are usually out of range before I can get down the deck steps, bend down and pick up rocks, catch my breath, then throw. It’s a futile attempt, really. And again, it’s probably just enough to piss them off. It won’t be long before I come out to find gang paw graffiti all over the garage doors.

So, I’m in a gang war with a pack of stray dogs. If I’m going to beat the “hood,” I’ll have to think “hood.” I’ll keep you posted.

Making Room for the Boy

I have several blog posts to catch up on and those thoughts, stories, etc. are coming soon. But, everyone keeps asking about the nursery. If you knew what this room looked like before then you know what a process it has been. Thank you Allison, Kristi, and Jon for helping me get it cleaned out and ready for its new purpose. We kept it simple… not too babyish, so it doesn’t have to be updated as he grows.

I should have gotten a closer shot of the quilt on the back of the rocker because it's so fun and creative and beautiful. Just like my sweet friend who made it! The moon on the wall above the rocker is one of my favorite finds. It’s battery operated with a remote control and it emits just enough light to give the room a soft glow at night. It will automatically cycle through the moon phases or you can change them manually to adjust the amount of light. After 30 minutes of inactivity, it shuts off. A great night light for $13- thanks Amazon! I made the rocket out of foam board and we’ll eventually throw up a few stars around it to take up some of the bare wall.

This is his changing station / bookshelf / toy storage / etc. I love multi-purpose furniture... and IKEA! The art is a canvas painting of the solar system with robot astronauts and aliens. Educational AND fun. I know… there’s a moon and rocket on one wall and the solar system on the other- and I said there wasn’t a theme. It just worked out that way.

This is one of my favorite things about the room. We still have a few to add, but he’ll be able to see the faces of his family members who live far away. Of course, we’ll have to update the photos periodically… along with moving them higher up on the wall when he’s able to stand and grab them. I don’t think it’s a good idea to have 8X10 wooden frames where they can be pulled down on his little head.

And thanks to Kristi again for the “Welcome Baby” banner she made for our baby shower. I found a place to display it. It will be a while before his new eyes can focus that far… or before he can read, but I love it.

We're looking forward to welcoming Baby Stadler into our lives, his family, and his room in our home.

The cookie question: to dunk or drown?

When I made that recent trip to Publix for Chips Ahoy, I apparently fascinated my co-worker with the way I eat cookies and milk. I never realized my way was so “bizarre”.
It’s a natural process for me. I just take some cookies and pile them in the bottom of a mug. Then I pour milk over the top of them, break them up, and eat them with a spoon.
I realize that some people like to dunk their cookies, but I don’t. Yes, the cookies eventually get soggy. Once the chunks are gone, I just simply drink the milk, which is then sweetened with cookie crumbs and chocolate chips. It’s not gross- stop thinking that. Most people drink the milk after they eat all the cereal. How is that different?

From the way my co-worker kept watching me in astonishment, you would have thought I was riding a unicycle with a monkey on my back while eating cookies through a straw and juggling three pints of milk. Which begs me to question: how do you eat cookies and milk? Are you a dunker, a drowner, or do you have another way? I can’t be the only cookie drowner out there!