The birth and an update.

Wow, long break but so needed. My friends may already know this but I tend to become a bit of a recluse as I get near the end of a pregnancy. Then right after the birth Mr. Maricucu and I line up his time off and my mom's visit to make sure our family gets an extended babymoon. Nothing fancy, just a good amount of bedrest for me with the baby and time for the siblings to adjust to all the new hubbub in the household. Mr. Maricucu is now back to work and my mom is back in Florida. The first two weeks Mr. Maricucu carried the whole load on his shoulders. Caring for the kids, the house and then on top of that me (in bed remember?). By the time my mom showed up he was exhausted. Thankfully my mom stepped in to help and gave Mr. Maricucu and I the best gift a parent could ever get. Sleep. She would let the kids join her on the sofabed at whatever early hour they rose, then Mr. Maricucu and I would get to do something we haven't done in years - sleep in together. Even if she hadn't done dishes, cooked us some meals and did laundry (including putting it away - my nemesis) all of which she did, the sleeping in part alone was worth its weight in gold.

Abuela in action.




Now about the birth. I'm kind of a strange one. I'm not interested in recreating romantic detailed birth stories piece by piece. What's more, being the sarcastic cynic, what usually imprints in my memory is what goes wrong in a humorous sort of way. I remember most of the birth until transition and then after that it's all a blur/whirlwind which sometimes comes back a few months later. But I'm also not the type to journal, have babybooks or any other introspective tool besides my camera. I don't have my kids' measurements or developmental milestones written in chronological order somewhere to pull out later. It's either going to make me one amazing mother in law, "Oh I can't remember when his daddy walked but the baby is doing just fine", or a horrible one, "Hmmm, I remember his daddy walking at 6 months old. What do you mean kids don't walk at that age?" Before the horror sets in let me just say that I do mentally catalog sentimental and sweet memories of the kids - I'm not an entirely heartless momma after all.

So do you guys remember John Moschitta Jr. the World's Fastest Talker and better known as the micromachines commercials guy from the 80s? I'll do the birth story a la Moschitta which will give the birth junkies a detailed account and spare the I-don't-want-tmi crowd. Deep breath . . .

Friday before 4th of July weekend having some contractions, Saturday had some amniotic leaking, Sunday more contractions but then they petered out, Monday contractions on and off but nothing consistent, woke up 3am on Tuesday with more contractions but they stopped, off to bed, 7am my older daughter nursed then the contractions picked up and were more intense, called my doula she came to assist and use some tools to keep the contractions consistent, soon called my midwife during the first half of the day to come over and check on me, she did and predicted I'd be calling her over for the birth around 4-5pm, took a walk with my doula/friend, came back and ate an early dinner, bam right around 4pm and at the end of dinner had to stand up during contractions, called the midwife . . .

. . . deep breath

That leaves us here. Me in the birth tub thanking the Lord eternally for blessing us with hot water to soothe during contractions. From this moment to the next picture I can't even recall how much time passed. All I remember was hitting transition and puking (as is usual for me) then feeling very pushy. Once I hit transition I pretty much close my eyes and keep them closed until I've pushed the baby out.




Here we are. Having gone from intense contractions one moment to relief, euphoria and awe in another. Like her other siblings and despite the early leak baby's bag of waters was pretty strong. I'll have to confirm this with an attendant but I think she crowned still in the sac. A few moments after this picture and while we were still in the pool my other three kids each came over and gently touched her on the head all while cooing over her.




Being weighed by the midwife's assistant.




Mr. Maricucu doing what he does best. The thankless behind the scenes support work. Yeah he's a good egg.




Of course after baby and I were looked over each sibling had to take a turn holding "their baby".

Number 1, he's a veteran at this birth thing. This is the third sibling birth he's witnessed. He's blossomed into the designated baby soother, patting and shushing as she fusses while I change her diaper.




Number 2, snuggling and smiling at the baby sister that looks just like him as a newborn.




And number 3, who alternates between wanting to dress the baby up like a doll and looking at this suspicious creature who now forces her to take turn for nursies.




So here's the newest member of our family. I hope she doesn't mind growing up the youngest or at the very least that the chaos of three older siblings makes it interesting.








Oh and lest he feel forgotten a certain someone in our home turned the big 4-0. He's lucky I was incapacitated by a little syndrome called pregnancy-in-the-southern-summer otherwise there could have been a lot more devious planning on my part. One day . . .

Another project finished.

I went from setting up the birth supplies last week to labor this past Tuesday. The end result is pretty darn adorable if I do say so myself. So yeah the blog will likely be slow for a while and you might have to put up with some more pictures of little Miss M. as I come off the babymoon high.

Making momma work for it.

Otherwise known as trying to get a group shot of my kids for Mr. Maricucu's Father's Day present. It's always the biggest challenge and I'll show you why.

First attempt early at the park before playing. They've got that "what you talkin' about Willis" look.




Quickly the shot disintegrates. The second born begins to dig for gold, the baby spots something besides momma and the oldest raises his hand to ask a question. Seriously? My children are homeschooled and they still raise their hands in random moments to ask questions. Proves it's a reflex or something.




I gave up, let them go play and then we went home. Later that afternoon I decided to give it another go first on our front porch. Whoooh boy another question and one that looks like he's in pain.





I told them to make some silly faces in the hopes that it would loosen them up.




No such luck. The youngest is pretty much set on looking elsewhere.




Gah! The questions, the questions! No we are not done. No I cannot take pictures of you tumbling until we get to the back. Why? Because the porch is hard and your head is not. (momma bites her tongue on the every ready sarcasm).




I tell them to give their sister a kiss. She's not so sure and elbows them back into place. Why must they smile as they look down at the ground????






Moving on to the rickety rocking chair my oldest throws me a bone and asks for a picture holding his sister. He really does love her. Too bad she's giving me direction.




Evidence of their love. Earlier at the park guess who was in charge of helping her off the slide?




Finally with promises of playtime we head out to the backyard. It wasn't any better I'll tell you. See my second born? If looks could kill . . .




Oh my goodness the questions!!! She's got a limited vocabulary and yet has the hand raising thing down. Kids, newsflash. We homeschool. You don't have to raise your hand to ask a question.




At some point they're all on the play structure and I snap at what would be a pretty decent picture - if their sister wasn't two feet shorter.




I quickly tell them to sit on a lower spot hoping their sister might grab a spot nearby. Ohhh they look so happy don't they? Not. Normally I'm go with the flow and shots like this I love because they are just as natural as the smiles. But I doubt my extended family would like to get scowling shots being the traditionalists they are.




Right about here is when my oldest absentmindedly asks, "momma are you frustrated?" not knowing I was going to answer stream of consciousness style. Blegh, I sent them off to play and gave up on the group shot. Maybe next year.