It’s catch up time! Did you miss me?
I started feeling contractions at 8 am on November 1. (Don’t worry, I’ll skip all the gross stuff!) In the beginning, it just felt like crampy back pain. No biggie. I called my doula (a birth coach) and she said this stage could go on for several hours to a whole day. She suggested I do some stuff to distract me from the coming event and maybe even try to take a few naps. Mr. Megan offered to take me to do whatever I wanted to get done around town before things got ‘more exciting’. We went to the comic shop to pick my copy of Saga and the cupcake shop to get my favorite local hot cocoa and cupcakes. I never got to eat the cupcakes. Within a few hours we were rushing to the hospital, me screaming at Mr. Megan to drive faster. Maxwell Simon Megan arrived at 6pm that evening. I never have been one to take things slowly.
The next 48 hours we spent hibernating in our hospital room, in shock and awe. We received visitors every couple hours: nurses, doctors, lactation specialists, paper towel girl, lunch lady. That’s true, by the way. I was tweeting and facebooking my new little man by the next day, even though I could hardly walk. A geek must have priorities! We focused as hard as we could through our delirious, sleep deprived haze on every detail of baby care that we were instructed to learn. Poured over piles of paperwork explaining all the medical care instructions for Max and me, child care handbook, shaken baby syndrome warning pamphlets and questionnaires to establish whether I was happy or sad about my new status as a mom. Before we left there, Mr. Megan just couldn’t help himself from schooling the nurses about the inappropriate inclusion of “alternative therapies” in a hospital setting where science should rule. A geek must have principles.
To call those 48 hours a surreal experience would be downplaying just how super weird it all was. I’m not sure either of us really understood what the hell we had done until we were at home for the first time together, looking at this new tiny person who we were responsible for keeping alive.
Since that first week, we’ve spent each day struggling to find some new routine in our lives that not only includes, but currently revolves around, Max. He’s already earned two nicknames: Mad Max and the Tiny Dictator. He’s demanding, cranky and incredibly cuddly. To be fair, the poor little guy is currently working through some painful reflux issues, so his angry mood swings are not entirely unwarranted. The people who know about these things keep assuring us he’ll ‘grow out of it’. The high level of neediness and unpredictable sleep patterns are why I’ve been MIA for over a month.
For those of you who have returned to read this column after my absence, thank you. I’ve missed sharing with you and I hope this episode is the start of a more regular writing schedule for me. Now, I’ve got tons of comics to catch up on before the next crappy diaper needs my attention. I can’t wait to share this new adventure with you!
