A few videos...

Some highlights of Noah's first week at his new home (or at least his new home outside of my uterus)...



Noah Meets Gary click here

Tasty Diet Coke click here

Hiccups click here

Noah's first walk click here



I am not the best camera person, but I promise to get better.

Counting, barfing, shaking and finally a baby!

I think I went into labor last Sunday ... the process is not like how it is in the movies at all! Here's how it happened. Sunday afternoon I noticed something "gross" in the toilet after I went pee (since I already told you all about my monster poo, who cares about a little pee, right?). I figured it was nothing, maybe a little left-over "something" from Greg that I didn't notice before. We then went to my mom's house for tacos and on our way home I noticed some cramping and felt my stomach tightening. It wasn't that horrible, but it wasn't comfortable either.

Later that night the "crampy-tight" feeling that I had felt before intensified and when I went to the bathroom, something else happened to fall out of me when I went pee pee... I determined that it must have been my mucus plug and thought "that was gross, but at least it's out and it's overwith." That night I breathed through the contractions while Greg counted them on the computer.

When I woke up the next morning, the contractions had pretty much stopped and were only happening every 40 minutes to an hour. I decided to go to school because I didn't want to waste any of my absences if I wasn't actually going to have the baby. Classes started at 3:30 and around 4:30 my contractions began again. I don't think I learned anythign that night, I just kept hoping that my water wouldn't break while I was in class!

When I got home around 8:30 on Monday night I went to the bathroom again and noticed something incredibly disgusting ... it was officially my mucus plug and it looked like a big pile of dirty camping boogers. My contractions then got closer and more intense, but still not regular enough to head to the hospital, so we counted ... we spent the whole night counting and falling in and out of sleep. Every 6 1/2 - 7 minutes we'd wake up, I'd practice breathing and Greg would try and hit the space bar on our internet contraction counter. To entertain us during the process we searched for goats in trees on youtube (it's a long story, but basically we were trying to prove that goats actually do go in trees). Here's what we watched to make us laugh ... make sure you listen/watch all the way to the end. Click here.


Tuesday was my due date, so I had a doctor's appointment that morning. I was trying not to get my hopes up. I wanted them to say "go to the hospital, you're ready to have your baby", but I didn't want to jinx it, so I stayed quiet. Our appointment got pushed back another hour and my contractions continued to intensify. Greg and I walked to starbucks, breathing and counting.



At 11:00am we went to the doctor's. She checked my cervix and was finally dilated. She said I was almost three centimeters, which was a huge improvement from our previous appointment. Then she asked me about BHR's movement and since I hadn't been feeling him move around as much as I was before, she wanted to do an ultra sound where she measured the fluid around the baby. He was measuring low, so she sent us off to the hospital. If everything was normal there, they would send me home, if not, she said we'd be having BHR that day.



I was somewhat scared. I felt a bit selfish because I really wanted to him to arrive that day, I didn't want to go home and sit and count more contractions, I wanted to stay at the hospital, but at the same time, I didn't want anything to be wrong with him.



We got to the hospital, got admitted and hooked up to the machines to measure what was going on ... The ultra sound showed that my fluid levels were normal and after an hour or so the nurse came in, measured my cervix again and I was just 3 centimeters. I told her I didnt' want to go home and so she and the doctor decided to admit me ... I was going to meet BHR!

We were then put in a large labor and delivery room and I was given pitocin. My contractions got closer together and much much stronger than before. I felt okay, but nervous. Greg helped me breathe through the pain and my family entertained me while I bounced around on a birthing ball. As the pitocin increased so did my contractions. I had it my head that I was going to make it 5 centimeters before getting an epidural, but at 4 I was over that plan and I wanted drugs.

After the epidural I couldn't feel any contractions and the next thing I new it was time to push. It had been about 12hours since I was admitted and I was dilated to 10 centimeters. I tried pushing for about 2 1/2 hours. During this time, I threw up several times and started shaking uncontrollably. I couldn't lay on my back without shaking and still I felt nothing ... no baby.

After 2 1/2 hours the doctor told me that BHR wasn't going to fit through my pelvis and she recommended that I have C-section. She began telling me what that would mean and all I cared about was meeting my baby. I didn't care about anything else ... I had waited 40 weeks and nothing was going to stop me from finally welcoming BHR.

The problem with the C-section was that it required me to lie down on my back ... this is what was making me throw up and shake. I remember being wheeled down the hall and going into the operating room, but everything else was a blur. I was so thankful that Greg and my mom were able to be there...I was not doing well,I couldn't get the shaking to stop and I was freaking Greg out.

I remember the doctor's asking me if I wanted to see my baby. They lowered the curtain/wall and I remember seeing slimy little boy and then my head fell back down. This was not how I pictured it. I imagined them handing me my baby and Greg and I ooing and aahing over our new bundle of joy. Instead I was too sick and shaky. My face and my legs were itchy from the anesthesia and my throat was raw from all of the barfing ...

I don't remember when I finally got to hold my baby. I remember looking at him in his clear bassinet that was going to be his bed for the next 4 days. I remember thinking how small and how sweet he looked ... it didn't feel real.

The point is this ... the labor and delivery of baby Noah wasn't what I expected. It wasn't easy and nothing could have prepared me for how I would react and what happened. The memories of the bad stuff are fading quickly and when asked if I would do it all over again the answer is a definite yes.

I look at Noah and even though I'm scared and nervous that I'm doing something wrong or that I can't do "this" I know that it's completely worth it. The four days that we stayed in the hospital seem so long ago ... the days and nights blended together and with each day I felt closer and more attached Noah. I can't wait to experience life through Noah's eyes and until then I can't wait to find words that better explain how much I love him.

The Tale of Two Poos

The day Noah was born the Rabbi came by and did a blessing on both Noah and I. It was really moving and it was so nice of the Rabbi to come by the hospital. She stayed a little while and chatted with us. She has two young boys so she gave me some advice ... she said "...and take your stool softener."



I didn't realize at the time the importance of this statement. Everything comes down to poo. I have never really had a problem with the softness of my stool. I knew they weren't going to let me leave the hospital until I foofed (or passed gas), but I didn't realize that I wouldn't poop for a few days. Every time the nurses would check my vitals they would say "Have you passed gas" and sadly I would have to say "No, not yet."



Everything about gas and poo is funny! For those that know us, Greg and I, we're big foof proponents, how could I not have been able to foof? I felt so defeated! When I was in the hospital the days sort of blended together, so I don't remember the momentous day, but I did eventually foof and I felt so proud of myself, so accomplished. I had a baby and I had foofed, what could be better, right?



Well, yesterday I finally had my first poop. I know this is a lot of information, because really, how often to people talk about this stuff? But I have found that after having a baby, modesty goes out the window, so if this is too much for you, you may want to stop reading now, because it only gets worse ...



Anyway, I went to the bathroom yesterday morning, and I sat there for what felt like 30 minutes! Greg even wondered what happened to me ... apparently having a baby slows EVERYTHING down. So not only had I not pooed in several days, but it felt as though I was in slow motion. I think I must have pooped out my intestines; like the poo had piled up inside my body and was being released from captivity .... and again, I was proud of myself.



So today, Noah proved that he is 100% part of this family ... we had our first poo-explosion! I took Noah into the nursery to change his diaper. When I opened it up there was only a little bit of pee-pee, so I started wiping and was about to change the diaper and then it happened ... he foofed! I giggled, he giggled and then I looked down and I noticed, there was a little bit more poop. So I called Greg and asked him to get me another wipe (we use dry wipes and then get them wet in the bathroom, so I couldn't leave Noah by himself on the changing pad).



Greg came in as I was changing Noah out of his second diaper, he foofed again ... and with that poo shot across the room! Across the diaper basket, across the stack of wipes, onto the baby blanket, through the changing pad, across the wall and onto the door. While Greg and I were laughing and trying to pick up the poop-covered baby pieces I leaned over, still giggling, to give Noah a kiss on his forehead.



I said "welcome to the family" and with that, Noah peed off his diaper, up his tummy, onto his shirt and onto his new little addidas. Greg and I lost it! I didn't know what to pick up first ...I couldn't stop laughing!



We finally got ourselves under control, finished picking up the pee and the poo-covered baby paraphernalia and I felt reassured and proud; Noah is definitely part of our family.

Welcome back to my life you tasty beast!

Yesterday we came home from the hospital ... I haven't washed my hair in a long long long time. I had a plan. I was going to wash my hair and then have a tasty diet coke. I felt like the experience needed to be perfect and you know about my thing with thing with the clean hair. The hair washing wasn't going to happen too much going on, so I settled on my diet coke with dirty hospital hair ...

Oh Diet Coke, how I missed your fizzy, tasty goodness. Even though I didn't have clean hair for the experience, it was still one of the best tasting drinks of my life. I didn't finish it because I didn't want to freak out the system considering I haven't had any caffeine since last January, but man it was quite refreshing!!!

More later ...

BHR revealed

So, it happened ... BHR was born on September 24, 2008 at 3:16am. His name is Noah Michael Himovitz-Ries. There's so much to share, so much to say and since it's 2:30 in the morning and I just got home from the hospital yesterday, this will not be my most exciting entry.

The labor story will have to come later, but in the meantime I can finally share our thought process behind BHR's new and permanent name ... you may not remember my entry that talked about how Judiasm works with naming, but the point is that I always new that either Lucas or myself would use the name Michael. I've always loved that name, not just because it was my father's, but also because it's a nice name and I like the way it sounds. It was hard because since Lucas and Lara don't have a child and because you don't name anyone after someone who is still alive I didn't want to take their option of using Michael away and that's one of the reasons that Michael is the middle name , also Greg and I both wanted a name that was different (Michael is pretty common), still had a good meaning and is Jewish.

We looked at meanings of names in books and stories online and we found Noah. Noah means "peaceful" and that's something that I am always striving for, yet rarely achieve. It's something that I hope for in the world and something that we desperately need. It's something that I value in people and in the communities that I join, but most importantly I think it's a name that describes Greg. He's so calm and patient ... when I feel chaotic and overwhelmed and it feels like my head is spinning, Greg has a way about him that makes everything seem calm. He doesn't deal with problems by yelling or screaming, he is thoughtful in his responses and in how he handles conflicts and challenges ... he internalizes a lot and sometimes you aren't always sure what's going on, but what I do know and what I can always tell is that he's coming from a place of thoughtfulness.

Knowing that we were having a boy I immediately thought of Greg and my hopes for our son ... I hope that our son inherits Greg's calming and peaceful nature. We were between Noah and Jonah and while we initially were going to go with Jonah, sharing these last 5 days with Greg and our new son and our chaotic labor experience, I know that choosing the name Noah was the right decision. Greg was amazing throughout the whole experience ... he was attentive and devoted and made me feel like we can definitely do this. And while he may feel nauseous and scared and overwhelmed, there is no doubt in my mind that he's going to be an amazing father and that I am not in this alone and that makes me feel peaceful ...

39 weeks...one week to go

BHR is 39 weeks, one week away from term. He's still building fat layers (as am I) to help control his body temperature after birth, and it's likely that he measures around 20 inches and weighs a bit over 7 lbs, which is like a mini watermelon. They also say that boys tend to be heavier than girls, but I think right now, I weigh more than everybody:)

We went to the hospital yesterday to do some fetal monitoring. I had noticed a decrease in BHR's fetal movement and called the doctor. I guess when you are this far along they send you straight to labor and delivery. I remained surprisingly calm considering the last time I was told to go to the hospital when I was a bit of a crying mess. They monitored me and baby for about 40 minutes and made sure everything was okay before releasing us. The doctor's and the nurses keep saying "well, your at 39 weeks, so we aren't going to stop labor." I want to say "who asked you to stop anything? Is there anyway you could start something?" Cheese and rice people, nothing has started yet, so let's not jinx it by making these statements about "stopping"... I knew BHR wasn't actually coming yet, but part of me was hoping that he would sense the hospital and just decide to get it over with. He didn't.

Other than that I've just been anxiously waiting ... nothing else seems very important these days, just BHR. Not knowing when to expect him; not knowing what feelings are normal or not normal, has been hard. Wondering if he's kicked me enough or if my water is going to break or tear and if it's a tear have I missed it and if I've missed it am I hurting BHR ... I'm assuming I'll know these things when they happen, but I don't like leaving things to chance. I like planning, I like knowing...

I've been trying to get on a good hair-washing schedule (every 2-3 days) so that BHR can meet me with at least relatively clean, straight hair and possibly even painted nails...I always perform better with straight, clean hair. My worst marathon experience ever, I remember deciding the night before that I didn't need to wash my hair. I was going on day 3 or 4 and figured that it didn't matter because after you run a marathon your hair gets so disgusting anyway, who's going to notice? Apparently the running gods noticed, because that was an awful marathoning experience and part of me wonders if it would have been different had I washed and straightened my hair? I guess I'll never know ...

For those of you that don't know this, washing my hair is one of my least favorite things in the world! Remember when I talked about the girls with the perfect straight hair, the kind that would swish from side-to-side when they would walk, the girls that can "get up and go"? Yeah, that's not me. I have to wash my hair, then I have to blow it dry, then I have to flatten it, then I have to worry about whether or not there is any bit of moisture outside that is going to F it up...it's a process and it takes strategic planning.

Ideally, this is what I would like to happen so that I can plan accordingly ... I want to walk into the doctor's office and have them say "okay, now we are going to go to the hospital. BHR will arrive in approximately 7-9 hours. You will push for this long and this is what's going to happen and then we will hand you your healthy baby boy." I'm not completely dellusional, I like to think of myself as hopeful. I know this isn't actually going to happen, but wouldn't it be nice?

I haven't really be in the mood for chit chat or seeing people. It's not because I dislike people or anything like that. I can't explain it really ... I've always been a home body, but lately I really just like doing things that require as little effort as possible. I read that it's normal, but after this experience, I definitely don't trust "everything" that I read because there are things about pregnancy that no one tells you, and that no one can explain even if they tried.

I was thinking this morning about what I'm going to miss ... I think I'll miss being with BHR all the time. Knowing he's there and feeling him move around. It's nice to be able to provide a space for someone that's safe and comforting. Supposedly it's really warm in there, and that could be nice for someone, right?

The list of things I'm not going to miss is probably a little too long ... but who knows, maybe one day I'll look back and think "ya' know, I really miss those cankles" or I'll think "remember when my boobs were super huge and unattractive and didn't fit into 'pretty' bras and tried to smother me when I slept? Those were the days."

I have no idea what I'm really going to miss until it's over and I think that's the sad part about pregnancy ending ... however, I'm thinking that once BHR is here, I won't mind everything else. They say that after a while you forget everything, you forget the pains of pregnancy and labor and that's how women are able to keep having babies; so much time goes by that you forget that you ripped your "lady downstairs" from head to toe and you look at your baby and think, "I want another one" and that's how it starts again.

I'm ready to meet him, and I'm sure I'll be able to create another list of things that no one can ever fully explain about being a parent and my cankles won't seem so bad. Stay tuned ... BHR could be here any moment, but let's just hope it happens on a "clean hair" day or at least within the 3-day window.

Reason number 8 gazillion Why I love my dog!

Who's sick of my flip video?