One of these days I'll learn how to hold the camera steady!
Baby of a Thousand Faces
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
A Few New Photos
One of these days I'll learn how to hold the camera steady!Baby of a Thousand Faces
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Some New Pics...
Well, I don't know if he can really smile just yet, but he sure does love his Grandma!
Aunt Gwen and Uncle Gary in to visit their Grand Nephew.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
The greatest gift...
So sorry for the delay in posting--it's been a bit of a whirlwind! The past 8 days have been quite the roller coaster ride on the baby learning curve!
On Tuesday, July 14th, Don and I went in for our routine weekly prenatal visit. At 38 weeks, we figured we still had about 2 weeks left to go before showtime. I was feeling great--no back pain, no cramping, no other signs that would indicate that I might be getting close to going into labor.... Anyway, after a pleasant, uneventful visit with our doctor, Katie Gesteland, she had me get up on the table to check to see if I was dilating and to do a quick ultrasound to check on little Jack, his heart rate, etc.... Within a few seconds of commencing the ultrasound, she got a little quiet then murmured that she didn't like his fluid levels. After taking some measurements, she determined that he was running low on amniotic fluid. She said that a fluid level of 8 is considered acceptable and I was presently somewhere between a 4 and a 5. (A low amniotic fluid level is an indication that the placenta is starting to cease doing its job properly.) At the level I was at there was a chance that pressure would start being placed on the cord. Not good. "It's time to get this baby out."
Needless to say, Don and I were in shock. Scared, excited, and completely in shock. We were given 30 minutes to run home, get my hospital bag (which was 50% packed) and grab a bite to eat. Then we drove to OHSU, and checked in so that I could be prepped for induction. I had only ever heard about pitocin (a synthetic form of oxytocin that the body produces to trigger labor). Well it turns out that when you're zero percent dilated, and zero percent effaced you can't use pitocin. Using it then would almost guarantee a c-section. Instead they started the induction by inserting a Foley catheter (it has an expandable balloon that fills up with saline) into my cervix. The insertion of the foley was, up to that point, the most physically painful experience of my life. After it was above the cervical opening, they filled up the balloon so that it was 3cm in circumference, then taped the catheter to my leg so that it was taught. There was a constant, painful pressure as the balloon tried to force its way through my cervix. That process took about 3 hours--in which time I stayed mostly in bed, trying not to move. At the end of the three hours, I started to feel a searing, cramping pain that had tears spilling down my cheeks, squeezing the life out of Don's hand. He just held on, gently coaxing me to keep eye contact with him, reminding me to breathe, telling me I was doing such a good job. After an excruciating few minutes, I got up to go to the bathroom and discovered that the Foley had done it's job and had fallen out. Thank GOD.
After that, the nurses started me on a pitocen drip (meant to cause contractions which would further dialate my cervix) and told me to settle in for the night. Don and I made ourselves comfortable, listening to the fetal heart monitor and watching the little seismograph-type machine that was measuring my contractions--which were painless and few and far between at this point. At around 10 in the evening, Bettie Jo arrived from the airport. She'd been on red alert standby for weeks, ready to hop on the first available flight when it was time. We had always anticipated that I would just spontaneously go into labor, and that she would hopefully make it in time to witness the birth. We never imagined that I would be 'forced' into labor using catheters and synthetic hormones and such--with only vague speculation and guessation on when I would actually deliver our son. Turned out that Bettie Jo had quite a wait on her hands, too. After some good luck kisses and hugs, she left to sleep at our apartment, and Don and I tucked in for the night--awakened occasionally by a nurse coming in to turn up my drip.
The next morning the doctor on duty came in to check to see how much I had dilated (another extraordinarily painful procedure) and low and behold...still at 3cm! Ugh. They decided to take me off the drip and let me shower and get something to eat, because it was looking like a whole new day of walking around with the IV in.
And that's exactly how the day unfolded: mild, painless, irregular contractions; chit chat with Don and Bettie Jo, several texts sent back and forth to family and friends, phone calls, and waiting. And waiting. And waiting.
Finally, at some point during the afternoon, Dr. Gesteland came in, apologizing for how long the induction was taking. I told her I didn't much care as long as he remained healthy during the process. I was starting to get really concerned that I was going to end up with a c-section, but she seemed confident that we would be able to avoid that. Instead, around 6pm (I think--my time recollection starts to get a bit fuzzy here) she decided to rupture my membranes, aka: break my water. I was excited, but also nervous (nothing else was working, so why would this?). We also now had a ticking clock. I had to have the baby within 24 hours, or infection would start to set it, leading to the dreaded c-section.
The procedure was painless (hallelujah!) and pretty much just felt like wetting the bed. Again, Don and I sat back and began our waiting game...which didn't last long. Pretty soon I was experiencing honest-to-god real contractions. They were similar to the worst cramps I had ever experienced, but I could still talk through them and they only lasted a minute at a time. Don got back into coach-mode, grasped my hand, reminded me to breathe, told me what a great job I was doing and how much he loved me. This went on for hours, with the contractions gradually becoming worse. Soon I was dreading that familiar tightening feeling as another contraction would begin. I started having trouble talking, I started squeezing Don's hand more tightly, I started whimpering and crying, etc, etc, etc.... The doctor came in and checked my cervix again, and...hooray!...5cm!!
It was right around this time that agreed to have an epidural. I was full out crying out now with each contraction and just could not imagine going another 5 cm feeling like this. The epi, in-and-of-itself, wasn't all that painful, it was having to sit still as I had yet another earth-cracking contraction while she inserted the needle into my back. This also happened to be the only time during the entire labor process when I snapped at Don. Told him to stop talking and to leave me alone. :) Luckily, me sweetheart didn't take it personally!
After the epidural was in place, the clouds parted, the angels sang, and I could finally really relax. The contractions kept coming hard and fast, but I hardly felt a thing beyond mild pressure. They told us to get comfortable, that this baby would probably come sometime in the morning. On that advice, Bettie Jo returned to the apartment to get some rest, and Don and I settled in to our dimly lit room, listening to our son's heart beating. A couple hours later, much to the doctor's surprise and delight, I was at 8 cm. This meant calling Dr. Gesteland to let her know that I was progressing faster than anticipated and calling Bettie Jo to tell her to turn around and hightail it back. They still thought I had about 3 hours or so left to go, but about an hour later I announced that I had a real compelling urge to push down. The doctor came over and said, "Well, lets just seem what's going on in there...oh! the reason you have an urge to push is because you're 10cm dilated, and 100% effaced. Let's call in the team, it's going to get busy in here!"
After that, it was pretty much your standard movie-style fair: Don counting to ten three times in a row as I pushed through each contraction, resting in between. I could feel Jack's head in my pelvis, but luckily no pain thanks to my awesome epidural. There were lots of murmured comments about how much hair he had. It took several pushes to get him through my pelvis, but once through, our little baby quickly slipped out over the course of 3 or 4 more good, hard rounds of pushing. I had my eyes closed the whole time, concentrating harder than I have ever concentrated in my life, and I remember hearing the doctor's say, "Okay, here comes the head" and Don saying in a high-pitched, awestruck sort of way, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"
At 3:07am, July 16th, 2009, after 39 hours of induction and labor, Jack Morris Collins was born.
Next thing, my son is laid on my chest, hands rubbing him vigorously, and then the most beautiful sound in the world--little Jack crying. I remember thinking how perfect he looked, how beautiful, and what a head of hair! He was born with a whole mess of really long, brown hair! Don and I just sat there, tears in our eyes, marveling at our little fella. Jack opened his eyes, wincing at the bright lights. We lay like that for a while, skin-to-skin, my hands shakily rubbing his head. Then he was taken for a quick clean-up. His APGAR score was a nine.
After two days of recovery in the hospital with visits from my dad, who flew in last minute to meet his grandson, as well as from three of my friends and business partners, Linda, Jen, and Cameron, little Jack, Don and I, and Bettie Jo returned to our apartment. Bettie Jo, bless her heart, stayed with us for a week from the day of his birth, helping us with laundry (LOTS of laundry), feeding us, helping me recuperate, and of course, spending every free moment holding and marvelling at her grandson.
We've spent our time since his birth taking lots of pictures, learning to breastfeed, grabbing sleep when we can, and just staring down at our little boy. Here are some pictures of Jack. We promise there will be many, many more to follow!
A little red in the eyes after the Foley was inserted.
One of the last pictures of Jack in my belly.
Me and soon-to-be Grandma Collins.
Not feeling so well.
Jack and Mommy
Jack and Daddy.
Jack and Grandma Collins.
Jack and Papa Tivnon
Linda and Jack--first visitors.
Cameron.
Jen.
What a sweetie!
This boy sleeps alot!
Our little bug.
On Tuesday, July 14th, Don and I went in for our routine weekly prenatal visit. At 38 weeks, we figured we still had about 2 weeks left to go before showtime. I was feeling great--no back pain, no cramping, no other signs that would indicate that I might be getting close to going into labor.... Anyway, after a pleasant, uneventful visit with our doctor, Katie Gesteland, she had me get up on the table to check to see if I was dilating and to do a quick ultrasound to check on little Jack, his heart rate, etc.... Within a few seconds of commencing the ultrasound, she got a little quiet then murmured that she didn't like his fluid levels. After taking some measurements, she determined that he was running low on amniotic fluid. She said that a fluid level of 8 is considered acceptable and I was presently somewhere between a 4 and a 5. (A low amniotic fluid level is an indication that the placenta is starting to cease doing its job properly.) At the level I was at there was a chance that pressure would start being placed on the cord. Not good. "It's time to get this baby out."
Needless to say, Don and I were in shock. Scared, excited, and completely in shock. We were given 30 minutes to run home, get my hospital bag (which was 50% packed) and grab a bite to eat. Then we drove to OHSU, and checked in so that I could be prepped for induction. I had only ever heard about pitocin (a synthetic form of oxytocin that the body produces to trigger labor). Well it turns out that when you're zero percent dilated, and zero percent effaced you can't use pitocin. Using it then would almost guarantee a c-section. Instead they started the induction by inserting a Foley catheter (it has an expandable balloon that fills up with saline) into my cervix. The insertion of the foley was, up to that point, the most physically painful experience of my life. After it was above the cervical opening, they filled up the balloon so that it was 3cm in circumference, then taped the catheter to my leg so that it was taught. There was a constant, painful pressure as the balloon tried to force its way through my cervix. That process took about 3 hours--in which time I stayed mostly in bed, trying not to move. At the end of the three hours, I started to feel a searing, cramping pain that had tears spilling down my cheeks, squeezing the life out of Don's hand. He just held on, gently coaxing me to keep eye contact with him, reminding me to breathe, telling me I was doing such a good job. After an excruciating few minutes, I got up to go to the bathroom and discovered that the Foley had done it's job and had fallen out. Thank GOD.
After that, the nurses started me on a pitocen drip (meant to cause contractions which would further dialate my cervix) and told me to settle in for the night. Don and I made ourselves comfortable, listening to the fetal heart monitor and watching the little seismograph-type machine that was measuring my contractions--which were painless and few and far between at this point. At around 10 in the evening, Bettie Jo arrived from the airport. She'd been on red alert standby for weeks, ready to hop on the first available flight when it was time. We had always anticipated that I would just spontaneously go into labor, and that she would hopefully make it in time to witness the birth. We never imagined that I would be 'forced' into labor using catheters and synthetic hormones and such--with only vague speculation and guessation on when I would actually deliver our son. Turned out that Bettie Jo had quite a wait on her hands, too. After some good luck kisses and hugs, she left to sleep at our apartment, and Don and I tucked in for the night--awakened occasionally by a nurse coming in to turn up my drip.
The next morning the doctor on duty came in to check to see how much I had dilated (another extraordinarily painful procedure) and low and behold...still at 3cm! Ugh. They decided to take me off the drip and let me shower and get something to eat, because it was looking like a whole new day of walking around with the IV in.
And that's exactly how the day unfolded: mild, painless, irregular contractions; chit chat with Don and Bettie Jo, several texts sent back and forth to family and friends, phone calls, and waiting. And waiting. And waiting.
Finally, at some point during the afternoon, Dr. Gesteland came in, apologizing for how long the induction was taking. I told her I didn't much care as long as he remained healthy during the process. I was starting to get really concerned that I was going to end up with a c-section, but she seemed confident that we would be able to avoid that. Instead, around 6pm (I think--my time recollection starts to get a bit fuzzy here) she decided to rupture my membranes, aka: break my water. I was excited, but also nervous (nothing else was working, so why would this?). We also now had a ticking clock. I had to have the baby within 24 hours, or infection would start to set it, leading to the dreaded c-section.
The procedure was painless (hallelujah!) and pretty much just felt like wetting the bed. Again, Don and I sat back and began our waiting game...which didn't last long. Pretty soon I was experiencing honest-to-god real contractions. They were similar to the worst cramps I had ever experienced, but I could still talk through them and they only lasted a minute at a time. Don got back into coach-mode, grasped my hand, reminded me to breathe, told me what a great job I was doing and how much he loved me. This went on for hours, with the contractions gradually becoming worse. Soon I was dreading that familiar tightening feeling as another contraction would begin. I started having trouble talking, I started squeezing Don's hand more tightly, I started whimpering and crying, etc, etc, etc.... The doctor came in and checked my cervix again, and...hooray!...5cm!!
It was right around this time that agreed to have an epidural. I was full out crying out now with each contraction and just could not imagine going another 5 cm feeling like this. The epi, in-and-of-itself, wasn't all that painful, it was having to sit still as I had yet another earth-cracking contraction while she inserted the needle into my back. This also happened to be the only time during the entire labor process when I snapped at Don. Told him to stop talking and to leave me alone. :) Luckily, me sweetheart didn't take it personally!
After the epidural was in place, the clouds parted, the angels sang, and I could finally really relax. The contractions kept coming hard and fast, but I hardly felt a thing beyond mild pressure. They told us to get comfortable, that this baby would probably come sometime in the morning. On that advice, Bettie Jo returned to the apartment to get some rest, and Don and I settled in to our dimly lit room, listening to our son's heart beating. A couple hours later, much to the doctor's surprise and delight, I was at 8 cm. This meant calling Dr. Gesteland to let her know that I was progressing faster than anticipated and calling Bettie Jo to tell her to turn around and hightail it back. They still thought I had about 3 hours or so left to go, but about an hour later I announced that I had a real compelling urge to push down. The doctor came over and said, "Well, lets just seem what's going on in there...oh! the reason you have an urge to push is because you're 10cm dilated, and 100% effaced. Let's call in the team, it's going to get busy in here!"
After that, it was pretty much your standard movie-style fair: Don counting to ten three times in a row as I pushed through each contraction, resting in between. I could feel Jack's head in my pelvis, but luckily no pain thanks to my awesome epidural. There were lots of murmured comments about how much hair he had. It took several pushes to get him through my pelvis, but once through, our little baby quickly slipped out over the course of 3 or 4 more good, hard rounds of pushing. I had my eyes closed the whole time, concentrating harder than I have ever concentrated in my life, and I remember hearing the doctor's say, "Okay, here comes the head" and Don saying in a high-pitched, awestruck sort of way, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"
At 3:07am, July 16th, 2009, after 39 hours of induction and labor, Jack Morris Collins was born.
Next thing, my son is laid on my chest, hands rubbing him vigorously, and then the most beautiful sound in the world--little Jack crying. I remember thinking how perfect he looked, how beautiful, and what a head of hair! He was born with a whole mess of really long, brown hair! Don and I just sat there, tears in our eyes, marveling at our little fella. Jack opened his eyes, wincing at the bright lights. We lay like that for a while, skin-to-skin, my hands shakily rubbing his head. Then he was taken for a quick clean-up. His APGAR score was a nine.
After two days of recovery in the hospital with visits from my dad, who flew in last minute to meet his grandson, as well as from three of my friends and business partners, Linda, Jen, and Cameron, little Jack, Don and I, and Bettie Jo returned to our apartment. Bettie Jo, bless her heart, stayed with us for a week from the day of his birth, helping us with laundry (LOTS of laundry), feeding us, helping me recuperate, and of course, spending every free moment holding and marvelling at her grandson.
We've spent our time since his birth taking lots of pictures, learning to breastfeed, grabbing sleep when we can, and just staring down at our little boy. Here are some pictures of Jack. We promise there will be many, many more to follow!
A little red in the eyes after the Foley was inserted.
One of the last pictures of Jack in my belly.
Me and soon-to-be Grandma Collins.
Not feeling so well.
Jack and Mommy
Jack and Daddy.
Jack and Grandma Collins.
Jack and Papa Tivnon
Linda and Jack--first visitors.
Cameron.
Jen.
What a sweetie!
This boy sleeps alot!
Our little bug.An Introduction...
This is the first video of our sweet son, Jack.
I apologize for the quality. It doesn't do the little guy justice.
I apologize for the quality. It doesn't do the little guy justice.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Baby shower!
Some gorgeous roses at the Test Garden.
Bettie Jo, Amy and I.
Shanna and I. Do I look enormous here or what??
My dear friends Laura Kimball and Deb Yates.
Two weekends ago was the Baby Shower Weekend Extravaganza! Bettie Jo and Amy arrived on Thursday night, followed the next day by Shanna and her mom, Suzette. Shanna and Suzette spent all of Friday driving around town (getting lost a few times in our fair city) tying up the last loose ends for the baby shower. The next morning, Don and I made our way to the Riverplace Hotel, a gorgeous location right on the waterfront. The day consisted of a scrumptious brunch, a completely decadent chocolate cake, heaps of gifts for our son, and lots of laughter and smiles shared amongst many of my favorite people.
Sadly, sweet Shanna had to depart for the airport later on that day, so I didn’t get to spend as much one-on-one time with her as I would have liked. We’ll have to make up for some of that when Don and I travel back down south for Thanksgiving with her new nephew in tow! And this time, I’ll even get to share in a glass of pinot with her!
The rest of the weekend was spent cavorting around town with Bettie Jo and Amy. We had lots of good food and made a trip up to the Pittock Mansion and the International Rose Test Garden. While Amy returned to New York on Sunday, Bettie Jo stayed on for another two days, which was a good thing, because that meant that she got to go to our ultrasound appointment with us! It was a special day, and Don and I are glad that she was there to share it with us. She got to hear his heartbeat and see him in 3D—though he had most of his adorable little face hidden behind his chubby little fingers.
Bettie Jo left her suitcase and all of her clothes (except what she wore home!) with us at our apartment. Much to our delight and with no small measure of gratitude, we are thrilled that she will be staying with us for a while after the birth. It’ll be so nice to have her here while I recover. And I’m sure she’s beyond excited that she’ll be able to spend some quality time with her newly born grandson! And by leaving her suitcase here, all she will have to do when we make the call that we’re heading to the hospital is jump on a plane!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
My View at MIG, Inc.
So since I spend 40+ hours a week sitting at this desk, I thought I'd take a few pictures to show what I look at for most of the work day. First off, I LOVE my office. It's located in downtown Portland. The building was built in the early 1900s, as were most of the buildings on the surrounding blocks. It sits right next to one of the MAX stops (the light rail) so looking out my window, I see a perfect (and sometimes goofy) cross-section of Portlanders milling around.As for my desk, my big flat screen is the main focal point, as I spend most of my time answering and composing emails, searching for marketing opportunities, creating proposals, filling in spreadsheets, messing around with PowerPoint, Illustrator, etc...and organizing files on our server. And speaking of organizing, my mom would be SOOOO proud of my filing system! Much to Don's amusement, I asked Bettie Jo and Denman for a labelmaker for Christmas 2 years ago. He kind of rolled his eyes at how excited I was when I got it. But boy, has the puppy been broken in! As far as I'm concerned, my filing cabinet is a work of art. And with the way it's organized, our marketing efforts at work won't come to a screeching halt while I'm gone. (At least I HOPE not, anyway!)
To the left of my computer I keep two small framed photos--one of Don and I that was taken shortly after we got engaged, and one of my mom when she was a teenager. It's my favorite picture of her--she's got her back to the camara, but has swung around to give that luminous smile as she dangles her feet out over the Grand Canyon. She looks so confident and happy and carefree in it. As my good friend Jen would say, she was a real Dame Rocket.
When I need to feel centered, I look at the picture of Don and I, when I need a bit of an energy boost, I look at my mom's. I love having those photos nearby. I'm sure come fall, when I return from maternity leave, my desk will become LITTERED with baby pictures, too!
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