Baby #3 - Our Little Woman

*DISCLAIMER* - Really long and slightly detailed entry for journal purposes.

The award for the worst documented pregnancy goes to me. This poor baby is going to think we didn't care about her time in the womb, but it's very not true. We wanted this baby and are so glad to have her here even though it's still overwhelming at this point. We only got a few tummy shots, and they're all on my phone, and I'm kind of a phone tard, so I doubt they make their way onto the blog. This pregnancy involved a bit of morning sickness in the first bit, an easy ride during the second trimester, and a very miserable last trimester. I've never been so swollen in a pregnancy - it reached a point where I about cried every time I had to shove my boots on my feet to go out in the snow. This is also the first pregnancy where I've experienced Braxton Hicks contractions. Those suckers are irritating and made me a little nervous that I wouldn't recognize labor when it finally began. This pregnancy was also different in that I kept the gender a surprise. Mr. Mitchell was a pill and insisted that he know. This greatly amused our labor and delivery nurses.

I did not like my experience with the doctors this time around. The OB/GYN clinic that I had to go to for insurance purposes does not assign one doctor to you for the duration of your pregnancy unless you put up a big stink about it. It didn't seem like a big deal at the beginning, and so I went with their "strong" suggestion of seeing whatever doctor happens to be available when I'm supposed to have my next appointment. This became a problem by the end of my pregnancy since I was constantly being told different things. Due to my difficult deliveries with my first two I was scheduled an additional ultrasound to determine baby's size to see if a c-section would be advisable. It was decided that this baby was running smaller than the other two, and that a c-section would be completely unnecessary. At my next appointment, with a different doctor, he once again recommended a c-section based on my previous deliveries. I told him it had already been decided that we wouldn't go that route. The next appointment they recommended I wait for labor to take its course. The next appointment they recommended a c-section or induction. It was madness because there was no consistency between the different doctors, and it started to stress me out. By the very end I was requesting the same doctor for every appointment (the one that met with us after the ultrasound regarding the c-section) because I wanted someone that seemed in line with what I felt was best and that would be consistent about it. By the time I was 39 weeks however, he was really pushing for an induction since baby seemed to be growing fairly rapidly. I put it off due to a sinus infection, but it finally felt right to call and schedule the induction on Thursday, January 12. I planned to ask for Monday, January 16 since that was what I originally discussed with the doctor, but when I called his nurse to schedule they were really insistent that I come in at 8am the next morning. So, we did.

My body wasn't 'favorable' for an induction, so they were first going to have to use a medication to soften up my cervix, and then Pitocin would be administered to start labor after my cervix was deemed favorable. It took two hours for them to get me checked in and everything ready to go so they could administer the Cytotec. It's a tiny pill they insert directly into the cervix, and then you have to remain lying flat for awhile to make sure it stays in place and does its job. We were informed it could take up to four applications. Each application would have to be four hours apart. That's 16 hours sitting in a hospital room just waiting for your cervix to soften up so you can start labor. I was not looking forward to that possibility and was actually quite displeased that the process was not disclosed to me before I agreed to go in for an induction. I was already contracting very irregularly while I was in there, so one nurse suggested the Cytotec could actually start labor, but for the most part they were planning on multiple doses of Cytotec. After I was allowed to sit up I went for a little walk around the labor and delivery wing, but it got too weird. Every time I passed somebody they would make sure to look away - not a single person, except nurses, made eye contact or said anything. I felt like a leper and went back to my room where Mr. Mitchell was finishing his breakfast. We sat and talked for a bit and then I had to get back in the bed and reattached to the monitors. Contractions were coming more regularly and much stronger, and the baby wasn't liking it. The nurses spent a couple of hours adjusting the monitor and adjusting my position and offering the oxygen mask. Eventually they got baby sorted and decided another dose of Cytotec was not needed as labor was obviously going.

They checked my cervix at about 2:30 and I was almost a three. The nurse went to tell the doctor he could come and break my water, but he never showed up. Labor kept ramping up, and baby kept showing signs of distress so they administered a shot to slow labor down. I can't remember what the medication was called. They told me the shot would make me feel weird, and it did. It felt like my heart was ten sizes too big and was beating as though I had just finished a run - it was a very bizarre sensation. It didn't last very long, only about 10-15 minutes, but the nurses were happy with the effect. At 4:00 I was definitely feeling the pain and asked for an epidural. I was given the bad news that I would have to wait at least an hour as the anesthesiologist had just started a c-section. I made it through the hour, and then I was given further bad news that another c-section was now waiting to happen immediately after this one finished, and we'd have to try and snag the anesthesiologist between the two if I was going to have an epidural for my delivery. I was almost a 7 at this point and tried not stress our as I began mentally preparing myself for another natural delivery. Our nurse diligently prowled the hallway and was able to snag the anesthesiologist for me - thank goodness!

With the epidural administered a little after 5 I was able to relax for about an hour before I started feeling pain from the pressure. At 6 the nurse checked and said I wasn't quite a 10 and to keep her posted. Only a couple of contractions later I called her back in and told her the pain was getting pretty intense again. She checked and said I was ready to go and went out to get the doctor. It took the doctor what felt like ages to finally appear. It was about 40 minutes. I know. I was watching the clock like a hawk. The nurses got everything prepped and then the doctor came in and broke my water. He told the nurse to go and get him when it was time. I pushed through two contractions and the nurse was already running back out to get the doctor. He got himself all covered up just as I was going through another contraction and then he told me to stop. The baby's head was out, and he wasn't quite ready for it. Very quickly, however, the baby was all the way out and on my chest. I was searching frantically to try and see if it was a boy or a girl, but things had been rumpled up just enough I couldn't see anything but the face. Finally I asked someone to help me see the gender and the nurse patted all the fabric out of the way so I could see my little girl! They let her hang out with me for a couple of minutes before taking her to check all her fingers and toes.  She was born at 7:03pm weighing 6 lbs 12 oz. and measuring 21 in. long. She was very snoozy at the hospital and let me get in a good chunk of sleep over the night.

This was by far the easiest delivery I've experienced due to the baby's small size. I did get a second degree tear, but no vacuum or forceps were needed, no broken tailbone, and I hardly pushed at all. Baby and I both did great and were out within 24 hours. Mr. Mitchell always does a great job at my side even though I know he's internally frantic at the fact there's nothing he can do during the process. I always appreciate his encouragement and good humor during labor and delivery.

My parents were able to come to Twin Falls to spend the day with the older two and bring them to the hospital to see the baby after she was born. The kids had a great time playing with Grandma and Grandpa. Sprout wasn't terribly interested in the baby after he initially saw her, but Little Lady sat by the baby and gave her little pats and chatted with her.

We are delighted to have our girl here, even if she does make it a 'girl house' as Mr. Mitchell calls it. He's officially outnumbered.

A Birth Story: Little Lady

Well, our Little Lady is finally here! I realized this morning that I needed to write the birth story down soon so that I don't forget any of the little things. Until I was pregnant with Sprout I never cared to read birth stories, so, I apologize if this is just blah for people as it once would have been for me. You folks might want to haul down to the end where the insane amount of pictures are located.

At about 37 weeks I was more than ready for this baby to get here. I was getting so huge it hurt my skin just to get up from where I was sitting; sleeping was impossible; my hips were killing me. Contractions started on Friday, January 23, but they were incredibly sporadic, and they never hurt. They lasted all weekend coming anywhere from 5-20 min. apart. I did get a couple of 5-6 hour breaks in there, and it was a good thing as the contractions were exhausting even if they weren't painful. At my doctor's appointment on Monday (exactly 39 weeks) my doctor said I was dilated to a 3 and scheduled me for an induction on my due date the following Monday in case the baby did not come on her own during the week. (We were all getting a little concerned about size at this point.) It was an enormous relief to have the induction scheduled as I was sure my skin was going to rip right in half, but I was also a little terrified of being 'forced' into labor. My contractions continued all week long, but Thursday night, at about 10 pm, they started to feel stronger. I stayed up all night timing contractions and they were NEVER regular - they remained anywhere from 5-20 minutes apart, but they got quite strong and painful. At one point I did have 4 contractions in a row that were only 2 minutes apart, and that put me in full panic mode. It was a little after 5am on Friday, January 30. I woke up Mr. Mitchell, called our neighbor to come stay with Sprout, and got myself dressed.

We arrived at the hospital and discovered I was almost at a 5. They said I could get an epidural right away if I wanted, but I decided to wait and see how I was doing. After one more contraction I decided I wanted the epidural immediately. I was incredibly nervous about this as my epidural failed last time and I ended up experiencing natural childbirth. I was reassured by several nurses that the anesthesiologist that would get me set up was one of the best they had ever seen. The anesthesiologist came in and was very cheerful and personable and helped me feel a bit more at ease; despite this I missed about every joke he cracked either because I was too nervous or too tired to catch on. Mr. Mitchell had to be my interpreter many times when I answered a question in all seriousness when it was clearly a joke (ex: Do you wear dentures?). Mr. Mitchell was my literal anchor as the epidural procedure was performed, and before I knew it I was lying back feeling warm and numb. I was told of a few side effects that could happen and then was left to rest. I started to feel super weird and thought it must just be how the epidural feels, but then Mr. Mitchell asked how I was feeling. I realized I was feeling nauseous and told him so. He said, "How nauseous?" I answered by throwing up all over myself....four times in a row. It was humiliating! The nurses had to come and clean me up and I couldn't really help since I was numb. I apologized over and over, and Mr. Mitchell kept telling me it was no big deal, but it was still embarrassing. After that process was done we were pretty well settled in and just waiting for our baby to arrive. It was about 7:45 am. We made our phone calls to parents and then settled in for a nap.

At about 9 am my nurse came in and said that they were going to give me Pitocin because my contractions were still incredibly sporadic and sometimes very far apart, and I had not progressed much since being admitted. They also broke my water at this point. We heard this and figured it would probably be early afternoon before it would be time to push. Not so. A little after 10:15 am I started to feel a bit of pain and let my nurse know. She did a very quick check and said, "It's time. Let's call Dr. Jones." Whoa. It was happening right then. I pushed for about 20 minutes, they had to give me an oxygen mask for the baby (sooo claustrophobic), and I was threatened with a vacuum (as opposed to forceps as last time). They gave me an episiotomy, and the baby was still stuck. So, they did end up using the vacuum. At 10:43 am our Little Lady arrived and they placed her right on my tummy. I was so happy to have her here that I may have cried a tear or two. After I got to gaze at her for a few moments the nurses took her over to get her cleaned and get everything checked out. I stayed where I was and got stitched up. I only got a second degree tear this time, and I didn't feel a thing. The whole experience was somewhat similar to last time (oxygen mask, baby too big for mommy, etc.), but it was so much more peaceful with the working epidural. I was able to relax and focus and was so much less exhausted after the baby's arrival. It was amazing.

Mr. Mitchell stayed with me for a few hours as the epidural wore off and I figured out how well I was able to move around and function. He then went to pick up Sprout and brought him over to meet the newest munchkin of our family. Sprout was very curious about the baby and even more curious about all of the equipment around the room. He didn't last very long before he was taken home with Daddy. I asked Mr. Mitchell to stay the night at home so that there was as much normalcy as possibly, and so that he had the energy I would be lacking.

Because of the baby's weight and time of arrival they decided they needed to watch her blood sugar levels, and they didn't like what they were seeing. At about 9 or 10pm I was told that if her levels didn't pick up she would have to be placed in the NICU. Not a huge deal, really, but to a tired and hormonal mother it seemed absolutely horrible. I called Mr. Mitchell to let him know and then we just waited. A big part of the problem was that Little Lady was so sleepy she would not eat, and because she wouldn't eat her blood sugar levels dropped, and because they dropped she became more lethargic and sleepy. It was a vicious cycle. The nurse and I worked really hard to get her to wake up and to stay awake while eating, and at her final test at 1am she passed! I was very relieved since she had done so poorly on all of the others. The poor little girl had her heels pricked so many times it made me want to cry. That was the only time I regretted asking Mr. Mitchell to stay with our boy.

My healing this time around has been so much better. Again, I think having a working epidural has a lot to do with that since there wasn't really any trauma involved this time. I haven't been as sore, I have had more energy, and I feel so much more physically capable. The worst has been my tailbone. During delivery I felt a snap in that region, but I didn't think much of it. After a day or two of having severe pain upon sitting down and trying to get up I realized that that pop had probably been my tailbone doing something it shouldn't. I did feel a pop there again when I was getting off of the couch the other day, and it has steadily been feeling better since then. I think I must have dislocated it or something - if that's possible - I don't know much about tailbones.

I am hoping to get birth announcements out soon, but I'm still debating on whether or not to purchase any of the newborn photos taken at the hospital. Until then, I hope these pictures suffice.

Pre-Delivery

Last belly shot - 38 weeks. I had been crying right before the
 picture and Mr. Mitchell neglected to mention my running eye make-up.

Just waiting for little lady to make her debut.

Post-Delivery

She and her brother make the same crying face.

First day home:

Little Moments:

He is always trying to snuggle and/or kiss her whenever he can.

She is so beautiful!

First sponge bath at home.

We are just loving this baby! She is the loudest sleeper and pooper in the world, but she's so much fun to watch - even when she's doing nothing.

The Birth of C.G.

Once upon a time I really hated reading the birth stories: they were full of details that nobody but the mom cared about. When I became pregnant I suddenly thrived off of birth stories and even took to stalking strangers' blogs so I could read about their experiences and learn about the variety of possibilities of what could happen to me. Because of that change of heart I have decided to publicly document C.G.'s (since this blog is public I want to avoid using my baby's actual name as often as possible) birth story in the hopes that it will help prepare or calm someone who is coming up on the birth of their first child. I want to be honest and informative, not glossy and vague. Here is the disclaimer: this will get slightly graphic and will be long - I will not be offended if you choose not to read this post.

On Sunday, September 23 I was feeling weird. There's really no other way to explain it. We stayed at church for only an hour because I was feeling highly irritable, very restless, and extremely uncomfortable. That night I was so disruptive in bed that Mr. Mitchell ended up choosing to sleep on the couch. At about 7 in the morning I started to experience some pelvic discomfort no matter what position I was in. When I finally decided to use the restroom I found bloody show in my underwear - it freaked me out. I immediately texted Mr. Mitchell letting him know that I wasn't feeling so great and that I was going to call the doctor. It didn't appear that I was having contractions, and bloody show apparently can show up weeks before delivery, but my doctor made the call that I should come up to the hospital anyway since I was close to my due date. Mr. Mitchell came home right away and helped me with some domestic duties (i.e. washing dishes, making the bed, etc.) before we took off. Once we had lunches packed we began the three hour drive to the hospital.

As we began the drive it finally dawned on me that I might actually be experiencing contractions, but not as I had anticipated they would feel. I had been expecting extreme abdominal pains, but maybe I was wrong. I also realized that there were moments that were more uncomfortable than others. I started timing these moments and discovered that they were happening about 5-6 minutes apart and lasting for about 45 seconds. I also noticed that if I poked my abdomen during those moments the muscles would be tense beyond my control.

The drive went smoothly and we made it to the hospital in a little less than three hours. The nurses in the family birthing center were expecting us and they took me to the triage room to monitor my contractions and see how far along I was. They were just as surprised as I was that I couldn't feel anything in my abdomen because I was definitely contracting. The doctor that was there at the time came to check my cervix and had a really hard time because apparently my cervix was still really high and pretty thick. It was ridiculously uncomfortable. He asked for another person to come and check, and she couldn't tell what was happening because her hands were too small and I was too high. They then had a third person come and check who was able (after much uncomfortable prodding) to say that I was only at a 'generous 1.' They had me stay for two more hours and made me drink lots of water at the threat of being hooked up to an IV otherwise. At the end of the two hours the same lady that put me at a 'generous 1' said I was only at a 1.5 and should go labor at home for awhile. Well, home was three hours away, so we went to Mr. Mitchell's grandma's house. Before we left, the doctor that was there said I needed to call and schedule an appointment with my doctor for the next morning. One of the nurses, however, said, "You'll be back tonight." I really hoped that she was right.

I labored in the hot shower for about an hour, and then the contractions started to go beyond pelvic discomfort into the realms of considerable pelvic pain. I labored in bed for about another hour and experienced the only contraction where I ever felt anything in my abdomen - the rest was back labor and pelvic pain. Mr. Mitchell suggested that we watch an episode of Heroes to take my mind off of the slow moving clock, and it kind of worked. It's hard to take your mind off the passing time when you have something regularly interrupting you every 5 minutes. We tried to take a little nap, but my body would have none of it. The back labor and pelvic pains were getting painful enough that I couldn't think of anything else and spent the time in between contractions dreading the next one. Mr. Mitchell called the hospital to ask if it would be worth coming back in since we'd been gone for 6 hours, and they said we could give it a try.

When we showed up (at about 10pm) they took one look at my face and admitted me without checking my cervix. As soon as I was in they hooked me up to an IV so that I could get an epidural. The nurse that was trying to hook me up had two failed attempts and asked another nurse to try. The third time was the charm even though she had to let the needle float for a bit. An hour and a half later I was getting really mad at those stupid contractions (still coming every 5 minutes like they had been the entire labor process), and they finally decided I had taken in enough fluid to have my epidural. The anesthesiologist came in and told me that I couldn't move a muscle even if I was having a contraction. This freaked me out a little bit because I was definitely squirming during all of my contractions - I didn't know how I possibly couldn't squirm. It took a little while for him to get all set up and then he had me sit up and wrap my arms around Mr. Mitchell. He told me to round my back and I rounded myself as much as I could...which apparently wasn't good enough. I felt like I had gone into a complete ball but I was informed that my back was straight as a plank. I really struggled with this part, and I don't know if they just gave up and went ahead or if I finally got my back round, but I finally felt the little sting of the shot that would numb my back for the epidural. It really wasn't bad. The weird part was feeling, but not feeling, the little catheter go in place. The worst part was having a contraction while it was going in and knowing that if I moved it would screw everything up. Apparently I held still enough because the anesthesiologist said it was all set and good to go. I figured I was finally all set to have a baby.

The epidural started feeling good after about 15 minutes; my pelvic discomfort was much better, although not entirely eliminated, and I could finally take a nap. Every once in awhile they'd wake me up to check my cervix and they were constantly amazed at my ability to move my own legs. (I still argue that this should have been the first hint of what was to come...) After a few hours that horrible pelvic and lower back pain started to reemerge. I called for the nurse to tell her this and she said it was good to feel some of that. Okay, then. As the hours progressed, the pain, along with the pressure, started to build and I started freaking out. The doctor came in and said that my doctor was watching the baby's vitals from home and didn't like what he was seeing. They tried messing with my body position to get better oxygen flow and then finally settled on an oxygen mask. It was claustrophobic and horrible, but the baby's vitals improved so I had no choice but to leave it. I would try tearing it off during contractions because, ironically, I felt like I couldn't breathe with it on, but that got me in trouble with everybody, including Mr. Mitchell. At one point during a horrible contraction a nurse came in and almost yelled at me to look at her. I didn't dare disobey. She told me I was losing control and that I had to keep it together. Once again, I didn't dare disobey, even though I was positive that my epidural had ceased working.

At this point the doctor came in and checked and said I was almost there, but I had just a tiny amount of thinning left. I went ahead and started pushing during contractions because it felt so much better than just lying there. Then something happened that happens to almost everyone when they start pushing, but they're just too embarrassed to say anything about it: I pooped. There's just nothing to be done about it - especially when they tell you that pushing a baby out is like pushing the biggest bowel movement of your life. I thought for sure that I would be mortified if it happened to me, but once I was in that situation it just didn't matter. All that mattered was that it hurt like hell if I wasn't pushing and it felt a little bit better if I was. At one point while I was pushing, when I wasn't supposed to be, my water broke - it totally freaked me out. I thought maybe my illegal pushing had damaged something, but no, it was just a crazy amount of water splashing out of me like it was supposed to. Once they realized that I was already pushing they went ahead and checked me again and decided it was time. They got the room all set and my doctor came.

He asked how effective my epidural was and gave a little tug on my vagina. He might as well have grabbed it with a hook it hurt so badly. Everybody finally realized that my epidural wasn't working ("That explains why she could move her legs on her own so well." Seriously?!? Why didn't you think of that at the time?) and my doctor went ahead and told them to turn it off because it was too late to fix it now. He then informed me that he was going to have to check the position of the baby and that it was not going to feel good. I watched him put his hand up there and then started to fight because he was right: it did not feel good - in fact, it outright hurt. He finally got a sense of where the baby was, and it was time for me to start pushing through contractions. Seriously, it feels so much better when you can push! Unfortunately, the baby's heart rate was dipping every time I pushed, despite the oxygen mask, and so I was told to sit out two contractions. I have no recollection of this because I was so tired and pissed at my oxygen mask, but apparently I gave the worst stink eye in existence to everyone in the room when I was told that I couldn't push. I'll admit that it was not what I wanted to hear. However, after sitting out a couple of contractions the baby's heart rate came back up and it was go time again.

Even though I could feel everything, I felt as though nothing was happening and I began to get discouraged. It felt as though I had been pushing for an eternity and that I would continue pushing for an eternity. Then I received the delightful news from my doctor that if the baby didn't come out in the next two contractions he was going to have to use the forceps, and he went ahead and sent somebody out to get them. This statement had the strange effect of being both a motivator, and being discouraging. I was so tired at this point that I felt pretty sure he was going to have use the forceps because I had no strength left with which to push. Before he resorted to the forceps, however, he gave me an episiotomy...and from that episiotomy I tore...viciously. And, yes, I felt it. I felt it to the point that I was positive I had also heard it. Because of that though, the doctor was able to get the baby out without the use of forceps. As the baby's head began to truly crown it burned. The nurse warned me that it would, and she wasn't kidding. I mean it. Seriously, folks - it burned. I never thought I'd be a screamer, but apparently I let out a horrible scream as the baby came out. I'm very sorry to everyone that had to hear that. Let's just say that the baby was too big (especially his head) and the mom was too small.

On September 25 at 6:44 am our beautiful baby was born. As soon as C.G. was out my doctor asked Mr. Mitchell to cut the cord and the nurses swept the baby away to get him clean. My doctor then asked me to keep pushing so we could get the placenta out. I was too stinkin' tired and so he ended up just pulling it out. That didn't feel good either. A lot of 'not feeling good' happened that morning. The doctor asked if I wanted to see the placenta... ... ...as if I had been behaving like a patient that was interested in seeing her placenta; I said no. They then began the stitching process. They put some kind of numbing thing directly on the area along with a pain killer in my IV. Did it matter? No. I felt every stitch and tug of the thread. I started crying and my doctor told the nurses to hurry up the baby so I could have him and be distracted. It almost worked.

Finally getting to hold the being that had been kicking me senseless for the past three months was amazing. I could still feel the stitching, and I was still crying, but I got to 'love on my baby' as the nurses said. He was incredibly alert and calm. I instantly fell in love with his head of hair, his big eyes, and his big hands and feet.

About an hour later they were finally done stitching me up and I was let in on my current state. From the episiotomy I had earned a third degree tear. Translation: I ripped from my vagina to my anus. I was to expect life to be rough for the next few weeks. It's been four weeks now and things are still rough. I was also kept an extra day in the hospital because they were worried I had an infection. I ended up being infection free and was finally sent home.

I had no idea how many of my simple, everyday movements require the use of my pelvic floor muscles. I was terrified to move on my own in my hospital bed because even if all I wanted to do was scoot over an inch I could feel an amazing amount of pressure on my stitches. I was assured many times that my stitches wouldn't tear out, but it didn't feel that way. The first time I got out of the bed took me almost 20 minutes; I was sore beyond belief and I hated feeling all of that pressure on those stitches. Peeing required the use of a squirt bottle (which is the case with ALL women who have just experienced childbirth, not just those of us that get ripped up) because otherwise it stings like nothing else. Wiping was turned into dabbing with an antiseptic towelette. That was an incredibly weird experience because I was soooo swollen. It felt as though my entire crotch had dropped two inches. The worst though, truly, was having a bowel movement. I was on stool softeners and they spiked up the fiber in my diet, but that doesn't really make a difference. The first bowel movement for every woman who has experienced childbirth is difficult, but it's still difficult for me four weeks later because I have stitching there. Both of my feet became incredibly swollen (presumably because of the IV) to the point where it was painful to walk on them and the tops of my feet would jiggle with the smallest twitch.

I'm getting much better at getting up and down (you can also read that as: I have graduated from the old lady toilet raiser back to just a regular toilet!!) and I'm off of my pain killers as of a week ago. I still take stool softeners and 800mg of ibuprofen every morning and night, and right now it feels as though I might have to do that for the rest of my life. I'm still bleeding...it's the longest period ever folks. Sneezing, coughing, and blowing my nose makes my stitches feel as though they'll burst in half - hopefully that goes away. Overall I am doing very well, especially when I compare how I feel now to how I felt the first week after delivery. I'm anxious to be feeling 'normal' once more and be able to start an exercise routine. (My stomach jiggles when I walk, and it's a very unpleasant sensation that I have never experienced before.)

My point in sharing all of this, really, is to show that natural childbirth is survivable. To show that less-than-pretty things happen during labor and delivery. To show that things get better. To show that even though I'm exhausted, and still not quite myself, it's worth it.