Poor ignored blog...

You know you've completely forgotten about your ABD blog when...

You get your Ph.D. and it takes you five days to post it!

I'm having some weird post-dissertation letdown. It's hard to put into words right now, but I was told to expect some depressive-type feelings and that is definitely happening. Everyone is congratulating me and saying things like, "You must be so relieved!" But what I am experiencing right now is mostly exhaustion. It's been a crazy push to get to the finish line for months now. As if the diss weren't enough, I started adjunct-teaching, and that is its own brand of overwhelming - it's lots of work to put together lectures every week. I really want to just curl up and sleep for a few weeks, but I just can't. My kids need me, my class needs teaching, etc. etc.

Life just goes on I guess.

Fathering 101

Taking care of baby for your wife is easy. Just be sure to find a safe and secure place for him to sleep. In a pinch, try office furniture.





What? It's comfy! Dad swears he won't let me fall.

76 and counting...

So now that the little guy is nearly 8 weeks old (!) I am slowly getting back to work. I've found that Caleb loves to nap nestled against Mommy in a sling, and that Mommy can type with both hands while he does this. I've been editing in 15-20 minute bursts here and there, and so far it's working for me. I'm making some progress.

And best of all, I have 76 participants in my study! My proposal calls for "a minimum of 75", so technically I am DONE with data collection...but I wanted to have at least 80 so I am going to keep the study going for another week. It's a huge relief to know that I don't have to worry about not having enough data. And soon I get to analyze it, which is the fun part.

Shameless picture sharing

Brand new:

Big sister is amused...
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One month old

Extra chin, big ol' grin...

Welcome, Caleb!

Sheesh, they put me on a pink blanket. Yet another side effect of being second-born. At least I'm not in girl clothes...

For anyone who is interested, here is how the labor went down...

I awoke this past Thursday morning at 5:25 AM to find that I was having contractions roughly every 10 minutes. I stayed in bed until around 6:30 (by then I was convinced that maybe I was actually in real labor) and I got up and got dressed. Leia woke up 20 minutes later, so I got her ready for school between contractions.

"Mommy, why aren't you dressing me? Why are you just standing there?"

"You'll have to wait a minute, sweet pea, Mommy's having a contraction."

"Oh."

At 7:30 I got three in a row that were nearing 5 minutes apart. I woke Jeff up and called Jeff's parents and asked them to come get Leia (she doesn't go to school until 9, and I wasn't taking chances.) Then they slowed down to 10 minutes again and stayed there until 9:30.

At 10:00 I got into the bathtub (tubs are great for dealing with contractions). Jeff wanted to get going but I wanted to stay in the tub. I got out at 11:00 with contractions coming every 4-5 minutes, and we headed for the hospital.

Riding over in the car was less than fun for me. The contractions were way more intense than I remembered them being with Leia. I got myself through by making sort of a low humming/moaning noise (must've sounded bizzare but I could not have cared less) and dreaming of drugs.

When we got there they made me wait downstairs for 10 minutes. I continued moaning through my contractions. Then some woman says, "Come sit down in my office and I'll admit you." I'm thinking, "Are you KIDDING me lady????" but I take my intermittently moaning self into the office. She takes FOREVER to get me admitted (what is she, blind?) while I sort of hold on to her desk for dear life. She slaps a bracelet on me that says 12:01 AM. She tries to explain the admitting packet to me. I want to murder her. Jeff steps in and I go off with the person who showed up to take my upstairs. I refuse a wheelchair, because even though by now contractions are showing up every 2 minutes or so I know I am better off getting there on my own. I hobble down the hall, pausing to squat when contractions hit. There are people waiting for the elevator, who blessedly let us through.

Once we are upstairs, I am hit with yet another contraction and have to stop in the hallway. When it subsides I tell the aide we need to make a break for it, and I waddle as fast as I can to the L&D unit. I walk into my room at 12:12 PM. The nurse takes one look at me and says "Oh my, you mean business. Let's get a gown on you. Can you give me a urine sample?" I tell her I will do my best.

Once inside the bathroom I sit down to attempt a urine sample and my water breaks. (How convenient...no mess.) I yell out to the nurse that my water broke. She comes in to help me into the gown. Then I get hit with the worst contraction ever - 10 times worse than any of Leia's - and I say, "Holy..."

The nurse says, "Go ahead. Let it out."

I proceed to spew every expletive I ever heard. Jeff said it sounded like I had an attack of Tourette's. Then I hobble out of the bathroom and inform Jeff that I am absolutely not making him any more babies, ever.

Then another hits. Jeff steps toward me. I hiss, "Get out" and wave him away. (Poor Jeff.) He moves out of my line of sight and says, "I am here if you need me." Meanwhile the nurse is begging me to get into the bed so she can check me. I tell her I can't, but somehow do so anyway.

She takes one look at me and shouts, "Fully dilated and effaced!" I inform her that I am sorry but I have to push RIGHT NOW. Jeff peeks in and sees the baby crowning. The nurse yells for an obstetrician. Mild chaos erupts as my doctor is not on the floor. They pluck a random OB who was on her way to surgery and she catches my baby about 2 minutes later. Jeff says I held off on pushing him out until they told me too, but I have no recollection of this.

By now it was 12:20, and little Caleb has made his debut. 7 lbs 13 oz, 21 inches long.

I have to say, as great as it is to get delivery over so quickly, it is also highly disorienting. It took me a while to take in that yes, I had him, it was done, and I'm not going to wake up in a few hours still pregnant.

So that is my tale, floating around in cyberspace for posterity. The little guy is sleeping now and I am tired of typing. I am going to take a nap!

Coming soon...

I'm only freaking out a little bit...


On the ABD front, I am happy to report that I am nearing the halfway mark in data collection. And I've gotten some good feedback from my chair on my writing so far. End in sight!

Very scary...

To have only 70 some-odd days left until the little guy makes his debut...I'm 30 weeks.

I'm scrambling to get as much writing done as possible in the absence of data (I won't really get any until the spring semester is underway). I'm also putting together the nursery and sorting through little clothes and baby things I haven't looked at in three years. Luckily we got a nice pile of loaner clothes, since Leia had maybe three unisex items in her entire first-year wardrobe.

Oh, and Leia informs me that she also has a baby in her tummy, and likes to have me feel him kick. Here is another conversation we had a few days ago:

Leia: Mommy, how did my baby brother get into your tummy?
Me: (praying this will suffice) Well, Mommy and Daddy made him, and we put him there until he gets big enough to come out.
Leia: How will he come out?
Me: (hopeful since the first pseudo-explanation seemed to fly) We'll go to the hospital and the doctor helps Mommy get him out.
Leia: How?
Me: The doctor helps...
Leia: But HOW???
Me: (so much for lame euphemisms) Well...he comes out through Mommy's vagina.

Silence.

She considers this for a few minutes.

Leia: When you and Daddy go to the hospital, can I come too?
Me: You'll stay with Me-Ma and Papa Bear and then come see us once the baby is out. How does that sound?
Leia: Well, I want to go with you. I want to see what happens.

Always the skeptic. Who can blame her?