The fourth trimester is the time of recovery. It spans the three months after you give birth, and it’s riddled with post-partum symptoms, sleep deprivation, anxiety, and hopefully, bounce back. My fourth trimester ended a few weeks ago with my return to work.

The highlight of the fourth trimester is that you are no longer pregnant. The Caterpillar’s pregnancy was definitely the toughest on me versus my experience with the boys. I don’t know if it’s because I’m six years older than when I had Gadget, or if it was because she is a girl, but I’m glad it’s over. From the round ligament pain and shortness of breath, to all my other random symptoms, I gladly said goodbye and good riddance to being an incubation host for nine months. However, with the Fourth Trimester came a host of new dilemmas and challenges.

The Sleep
My Caterpillar was 8lbs 3.5oz at her two week appointment, so she had gained back her birth weight and was growing up quite nicely on her exclusive breastmilk diet. Someone once told me that the higher her birth weight, the longer she’ll sleep at night. Ha! The first night home was a little crazy even though she’d only lost a few ounces in the hospital. We were exhausted. Of course, she slept all day, and then during the witching hour she started her “grunts.” At the time, I had not properly identified the meaning of each sound, but now I’m savvy enough to distinguish between feed me, burp me, I’m cold, I’m sleepy, hold me, comfort me, or I have gas. Although, it took a good seven weeks before successfully learning how to decipher this chick’s code. Now, those days are behind me, and I’m grateful every minute she’s awake when the sun’s up, because that means more sleep for me at night.

The Scale
The morning Miss C was born I weighed 164.5 pounds. About a week later I was 148, and today I am 136.5. I think I gained about thirty pounds this pregnancy, so I have about ten to go given the post-Lion pudge I started with. The numbers look exciting, but my doughy, postpartum belly, with what feels like are floating organs, doesn’t quite look like I only have ten pounds left to shed. I am itching to get into a cardio routine, and I’ve even completed one week of INSANITY. It really challenged my milk production, so I’m waiting a few more months before I dive further into an exercise routine. Pumping and feeding have been the only factors that’s contributed to my weight loss. I’ve pumped so much that we bought a deep freezer on Black Friday and it’s safely storing ounces and ounces for Miss C (I initially wrote this post in November and have an update about this soon). I also had a few serious headaches which were my body’s signal that I needed more calories. In the first few post-partum weeks I experienced migraine-like headaches that I never had with the boys. The combination of attempting INSANITY and cluster feeding left my body running on fumes.

The Hormones
These suckers will creep up on you. Poor Hubby has momentarily lost his wife. One moment, I’m fine and running errands with baby girl, and the next I’m crying because he didn’t change her diaper without me asking him to do and expecting him to read my mind. The swift change in my hormones also gave me nasty night sweats. I would wake up drenched and totally disgusted. The worst effect of the hormones is that my hair is starting to shed now. All the strands that I held onto during those nine months are finally starting their life cycle again, even though I did not have an epidural.

I gladly embrace these few Fourth Trimester symptoms, though. The pregnancy symptoms were far worse, and extended for a far greater length of time. As I reflect on some of the *highlights* of my past pregnancies there is one story that must be shared.

With Gadget, I experienced pregnancy gingivitis, insomnia, cravings for lemon tarts from Whole Foods, and after his birth, bowel incontinence. What is bowel incontinence you say? Well, it’s when you can’t hold your poo in. So gross. But you see, the doctor used forceps with the Lion, so things were a little rattled down there, and I had to take very seriously all cues for the bathroom. There were no warning signals, just a flash to alert me to high-tail it to the bathroom, or else…

Unfortunately, I experienced “or else.” One morning while in my fourth trimester with the Lion, I went down to Hell’s Kitchen to run an errand. Lion and I left so early that I didn’t have time for breakfast, so I grabbed a cup of fresh squeezed orange juice before getting on the subway to head back home after completing the errand. Now, even with a healthy functioning digestive system, fresh squeezed-anything will get your juices flowing.

I carried the Lion’s stroller into the subway, and we waited for the NRW train. And waited. And waited. And while we waited my stomach started to rumble. Now, had I known what would next transpire, I would have gladly carried the stroller back up the stairs, found a restroom, and not thought twice about losing my train fare or the germs in a public bathroom. But on that particular day, I decided to stay and wait for the train. By the time it arrived the rumbles began to come in waves. With each wave, I got a little flushed and dreamt of being in the comfort of my own home to end the rumbling. The NRW didn’t run up to my stop, so we had to transfer to the B train at 34th. So many trains arrived on the platform, but none of them were my train home. I sat on one of the subway benches, which was helping to keep everything inside me. I knew standing up and walking around would only agitate and increase the rumblings, so I sat and waited. And waited. And waited some more. And finally when the train came, all I could do was envision the relief of making it to the bathroom. The fresh squeezed orange juice had made its way through my system, and was pushing out everything is it’s way. I fantasized about sitting on the clean, private vinyl lined room in my apartment. By the time I made it to 116th street, I could only run home. I carried the stroller up the subway stairs, shuffled across the street and began to sprint-push the stroller along the block standing between me and home. I wasn’t going to make it. The rumbling had changed into bubbling, and the bubbling and gravity were working in cahoots to publicly embarrass me.

Flustered, I bustled through the door of the coffee shop just meters from my apartment door. I wasn’t going to make it home. I shoved the stroller into the single bathroom, but a gentleman stood up to help assist me with the door. He was moving too slowly, way too slowly, and the bubbling was coming out. By the time I got the stroller inside and the door closed it was too late. Way too late.

In 2010 I decided to transition into natural hair. I grew my hair out for almost a year, and then cut it all off. I tried various styles and embraced my natural hair for a good six weeks, and then I permed it. At first I felt guilty, but now, I’m glad that I went through that process. Today, I have chemically treated hair, but I treat it as though it’s still in the delicate state it was during the transition and even after the big chop. I believe the secret to keeping my hair healthy after having the Caterpillar was two-fold. The most important factor has been that I continue to treat my hair as though it is natural. The second factor is that I did not get an epidural with Miss C and I haven’t introduced formula yet. I honestly believe the combination of those two things contributes to shedding like you won’t believe.

Some key rules I’ve followed after the perm have been sticking to the curly girl method. I have avoided use of shampoos with sulfates and products with heavy silicones. First, I get Phytospecific perms every ten to twelve weeks. Stretching out perms makes the difference between four perms a year and nine. I go to the salon for a shampoo and blow dry between two and four times a month. When I don’t go to the salon, I shampoo with either DevaCurl No Poo or Oscar Blandi (which I love because it lathers on the first go) at home. I use whatever deep conditioner I have on hand. My absolute favorite is Mixed Chicks, but I can’t seem to find it anywhere in Texas. Sometimes I do a hot oil treatment with Proclaim Olive Hot Oil, but typically co-washing is enough to maintain moisture. After rinsing and combing with an extra-wide tooth comb, I mix Argan oil and shea butter (and sometimes pure vitamin E oil) into my scalp. I liberally apply DevaCurl Set it Free and then blow dry.

I trim my own hair once a quarter. Since I’m growing out the length, I don’t believe in getting trims every six weeks, as I did in the past when I was perming frequently. So far, these methods have allowed me to grow out my hair from the big chop. I hope this routine also prevents the excessive shedding I encountered after having the Lion, but we’ll see!

I call her birth, “the explosion,” because a few weeks ago Gadget asked me if she will just explode out of me one day. In reality, she came so fast, I would say his question was pretty accurate of her entrance. Her journey here started on the evening of Monday, September 26. I think she was trying to get into position, except she was still a little lop-sided and placing a ton of pressure on my hips and pelvic bone, so much so, it was excruciating to walk or sleep. I spent Monday night crying in the bathtub, praying for relief. My parents had already arrived, so Tuesday morning Hubby took the boys to school and then came back to get me to take me to a 9:45am impromptu doctor’s appointment. He had originally planned to go to work, so he was outfitted in his slacks, belt and button down shirt.

I told my mom I was going to the doctor to get something for the hip pain. My mom commented that they weren’t going to be able to give me anything at this stage in the game, but I left optimistically. By the time we reached the office, my Caterpillar must have shifted, because the pain was much more manageable. Dr. Jackson came in to examine me after 11. It was busy in the office that day, and I had nowhere else to be, so I didn’t mind the delay. The week before, at my weekly exam I was 3-4cm dilated, so it was no surprise when she told me I was a solid 5cm, stretchy to a 6.

“Great!,” I thought. That was progress. I was glad, but was really and truly exhausted from being pregnant. She then told me I was headed straight to labor and delivery. Whoa, wait a minute! Just like that? After weeks of hoping my water would break, or timing contractions at home, my Caterpillar’s birthstory was already beginning, and without my control? I asked if I could at least go home to get my hospital bag. For the past week I traveled everywhere with my bag, to the gas station just in case, to the grocery store, even to pick up Gadget from his after-school program two blocks away. But that morning I didn’t want to be too assuming, so I left it at home. Dr. Jackson said she could not send me anywhere other than the hospital with me being that far dilated. Normally, I would have been overjoyed, but I think reality had set in very quickly that labor and delivery were literally right around the corner. I did not have the adrenaline surge I envisioned. My heart did not palpitate, nor did my hands get sweaty. I had no anxiety, just a sobering feeling that I was in store for some intense pain since I planned not to have an epidural.

One of Dr. Jackson’s nurses wheeled me through the office building to the adjoining hospital, per Hubby’s request. I could walk just fine, as I did not have any contractions, but when it comes to my health, he doesn’t like to cut any corners. I went straight into a labor and delivery room, where the nurse and I discussed my labor expectations. Dr. Jackson wanted to start me on a slow drip pitocin (a drug used to induce labor by starting contractions), but I had other plans. I wanted to have as few interventions as possible. My desires were fueled by my horrible, long-lasting episiotomy recovery with the Lion. I was miserable during and after his birth, which consisted of an epidural, pitcoin, forceps, and an episiotomy that took over six months to heal. Gadget’s birth was much more uneventful and quick, which I attributed to the absence of the epidural. This go around, I wanted to have a natural birth, which to me just meant no epidural.

At the hospital, I asked if I could walk around for an hour to see if contractions would start and pick up on their own. The nurse asked if an IV was okay, and I consented for a few reasons. 1) If an emergency c-section was required, I wanted to doctors to have quick access to administer drugs. 2) I knew they gave pitocin after the birth to reduce the chances of hemorrhaging. 3) Sometimes they give liquids to help hydrate, but most importantly, 4) I wanted the option to have IV drugs. It took the nurses almost thirty minutes to get the IV started. I have one “supervein” (which I learned from my hip infection), and other than that my veins are small and weak. No one has ever been able to start an IV in my arm, but these nurses tried. The vein blew, and then they started listening to me. Eventually, they found a spot that would hold in my hand. Ughh. By 1pm, I only felt one or two contractions, but I at made it to 7cm. At 1:20pm, Dr. Jackson broke my water. (this is the TMI warning: do not continue to read if you have a weak stomach or don’t want to know me this intimately!) And boy, there was a lot in there! It slowly gushed out, and I knew there was no turning around. After almost an hour, my contractions still had not kicked in, so the nurse started me on the originally planned, slow-drip pitocin. She started the drip at 2:15pm, and by 3pm I was feeling the first few contractions. I think the drip was started at 2mL, and then turned up to a 4. Once my body kicked in, the nurse turned off the drip for the remainder of labor. With the first contraction, they were pretty painful and required me to focus on my breathing in order to get through them.

After about the third contraction, I asked for some medicine in my IV. She warned me that Nubain would make me drowsy, but would not take away the pain. I understood and agreed. I just needed something. She then added that if I was already 8cm, that it was too late because that would make the baby drowsy, too. I said, then check me now! She checked, I was still a 7, so I thought let’s bring on the drugs! Then she adds, I just need to check with Dr. Jackson. At this point, I lean over to Hubby and ask if the prior conversation determined that I could get drugs if I was less than an 8, and since 7 is less than 8, why aren’t there any drugs going into my IV? By then the nurse was back and with the consensus of the other nurses, (who said, if you’re going to give it to her, GIVE IT TO HER NOW!) finally administered the drug. At some point, I needed to go to the bathroom, but the contractions hurt too bad to get up, so a bedpan was used (I don’t remember the rationalization I used to justify it, but at the time it sounded marvelous. No need for more color commentary).

Immediately, I was high and drowsy and could relax in between the contractions. What helped me the most was the consistency in the room. A little earlier, a dear friend of ours had stopped by the house to bring my mom (and my bag) to the hospital so my mom could be there for Ms. C’s birth. My mom, Hubby and the nurse each had their section of the room, and it helped me to keep in control when they remained in their “zones.” At one point, Hubby was in the nurse’s zone and my mom was in Hubby’s zone, and it threw me. I asked them (not so nicely) to move! By 4pm I was 9cm, so the nurse asked me to try different positions to get her to descend. We tried laying on my left side, leaning over the back of the bed and squatting. Squatting REALLY made me want to push, so I just settled on leaning on my left side. Somewhere between 4:15-4:30 the contractions felt like I wanted to push uncontrollably, but I was 9.5cm and still had a little lip of cervix. The nurse told me not to push, because that could swell the cervix, which sometimes results in a c-section. Honestly, I was trying not to push, but at that point nature was totally in control.

One of the best things about this labor was that the nurse stayed in the room the entire time… until she went to the bathroom. She left, and didn’t tell me she was leaving. She was the strongest contributing factor to why I wasn’t already pushing. I didn’t want to “get in trouble.” As soon as she left and a contraction came, I couldn’t help it! I pushed, and I believe she crowned. I told Hubby to call the nurse. I was mid-contraction and couldn’t speak. He pressed the red button, and the nurses station asked how could they help me. I was hoping he would say “my wife needs some help in here!,” but instead, he calmly asked the nurses station to hold on, because I was having a contraction and couldn’t speak. By that point in time, another contraction hit and I was pushing again. From this point on I had my eyes closed. I don’t know why, because I really missed the details of what happened next, but within this push, Miss C’s head came out. I don’t know what made Hubby lift the sheet, but this is when he starts yelling, “The head is out! The head is out!” It felt like the world’s largest BM, and also gave me a ton of relief. At this point, I could hear several people buzzing around the room. Hubby says the nurse was back by then and had paged for the backup support. The scene must have looked kinda strange, because Hubby was in his work clothes holding my leg up, and Miss C was just one push away from being born. Nurses where everywhere from the sounds of it. One told me I had to push as hard as a I could to get her out. She had a concern and urgency in her voice, which lead me to believe she had no idea how easy that was going to be for me. She was so frantic, it felt like she had climbed on top of me to push on my uterus, but in reality, she was just leaning on my stomach to help push her out. I’m thinking to myself, where was all this help before?! So, I pushed a third time, still laying on my left side, and at 4:50pm, 2 hours and 35 minutes after pitocin was started, I welcomed my daughter into the world!

Dr. Jackson had arrived by this time after a sprint. She changed into her scrubs, broke down the table and put my legs in the stirrups. **A bit late, I’m thinking** But she did repair a small tear. Miss C didn’t cry right away, and because her birth happened so fast, the nurse cut the cord. This was the first time Hubby didn’t get to cut the cord. Once she was under the warming lights she started crying, and I guess there was a little piece of cord left that Hubby got to cut. I think the adrenaline was wearing off, so my pain level was really increasing. I was starting to lose it as Dr. Jackson was suturing me. I started crying and breathing hard, so she had them bring me my daughter. Holding her and seeing her for the first time calmed me down. I remember asking if she was okay, even after I heard her cry, and of course she is perfect.

My latest craving has been milkshakes…. From McDonalds, Mooyah, Fuddruckers, strawberry-flavored, oreo… And when I can’t get my hands on a milkshake I’ve been known to get a blueberry and raspberry slurpee from 7-Eleven. That sounds so nasty right now, but in the midst of a craving it’s its own food group. I’m glad my cravings contain some nutritional value such as calcium and protein this time. With Gadget, I had some type of pica, where I craved chewing on the inside of turf balls. The chewy sponginess and chemical smell was intoxicating. Yes, disgusting and random, but it was soooo good to me then.

I’ve still be getting the predictable questions. A conversation with a stranger usually goes something like “Oh! Congratulations… When are you due? Oh! Your third trimester in this awful heat, you must be dying! Is this your first… Oh wow! You’re third. You must be so excited to be having a girl… Are you guys done, then? Do you have a name picked out?” And there you have it. I should just walk around with automated responses: Thanks! The end of September. Actually, I don’t mind the heat, it feels good. No, it’s my third. I have two boys and this is the girl. Yes, I’m excited. Two is good for now and three will be great in September. No, we don’t have a name picked out. LOL.

So, on the name. I think I can safely share my list with you, because Hubby has pretty much ruled them all out. The only name he has come up with is Laila, which I’m not a big fan of (sorry Tiffany, Brittany, and any other friends who I’ve offended). My list includes Avery Camille, Nina Olive, and Makenna Ollita. Avery is just a nice asexual name (I love those names, hence Gadget’s real name). Camille is my best friend’s middle name, and I’ve always adored it. Nina has stuck with me for years, but lots of folks say it sounds too old (I couldn’t care less about these opinions, unless it’s Hubby’s). Olive is my grandmother-in-law’s name and I like that it’s not too common, yet hints at femininity through it’s relationship to Olivia. Makenna, again a girl’s name that’s not too girly, and Ollita is my mother and my middle name, so it’s a nice tradition to pass along. The boys love the name Ava, and are convinced that’s her final name. I think they’ll call her that regardless of what her birth certificate says. Usually, we get pretty serious about names in the last month. In fact, Hubby was googling and suggesting names while I was in labor with the Lion. Hopefully, we’ll agree on something a little sooner this time.

So, why is my uterus such a diva? Well, she’s definitely full of drama, irritable and super sensitive, so the name ‘diva’ accurately sums it up. Hubby has been out of town for daayyyyys, so I’ve been doing everything: baths, dressing the boys, making dinner, doing the dishes, cleaning up including laundry, sweeping, mopping… I guess on Sunday evening my body decided it had enough and I began having contractions. I thought they seemed to be awfully close, so I’m timed them. Seven minutes apart, six minutes, five minutes, four minutes…. Oh goodness, I thought. I called the on-call doctor who told me to drink four to six glasses of water and get off my feet. Her prescription definitely helped and slowed the contractions. So, I’ve reached my limit and I don’t plan to cross that line again until after I’m full term. At my doctor’s appointment today, she told me if I do that again, I’ll find myself in labor and delivery for two weeks of monitoring and rest, with an IV, and getting steroid shots to mature the baby’s lungs. I told Hubby the doctor banned him from further travel, which I think pretty much settles it.