Caitlin's Birth

If I had one word to describe this labor, it would be intense.  Yes, there was pain, but mostly it was just incredibly intense.

At 4:30am, I woke up with what I figured was probably just gas.  After two weeks of thinking gas pains were contractions, I had finally given up and figured everything was gas.  I tried to go back to sleep but lying down made it worse.  So I got up to watch TV.  I watched a few shows (I believe it was “The Middle” and “Modern Family” in case you were curious), and by 5:30, I was pretty sure these were actually contractions.  At 6, I woke Collin and told him it was time to set up the birthing tub.  I was watching SNL, when Caedmon woke up.  He came into the living room and sat on the couch with me where he soon fell back asleep.  By 7, the contractions were getting so intense that I stopped being interested in the show and could only concentrate on what was going on within my body.  So I got out my handy iPhone because there’s an app for that!  But seriously, the free contraction timer was nice because all I had to do was hit a button with the contraction, and it told me everything I needed to know (Well, at least as far as timing contractions.). 

It was around 7:15 that I told Collin is might be time to call my midwife.  At this point, my contractions were between three and five minutes apart, but were lasting less than a minute, so my midwife said to time them for an hour and let her know what they were like for that hour.  By 7:30, my contractions had increased to less than three minutes apart and they were lasting for a minute or longer.  I had moved to the birthing ball and couldn’t do anything but deal with labor.  I think it was Collin that decided we should call my midwife again.  This time she said she was heading our way.  Once I knew she was coming, I stopped timing contractions, and from then on I didn’t look at a clock again.

I moved to the bedroom.  I think at that point I decided that with no one to direct my labor (unlike last time) that I would follow the advice of Ina May and let my monkey do it.  In other words, I simply followed my instincts.  I was pacing around my bedroom making goodness only knows what kind of noises.  I kept trying to sit or lie down but that made it hurt worse.  I had to be able to move.  I kept thinking about those women who used to be tied down during labor, and I could not imagine what kind of hell they went through.

All this time Collin was filling the birthing tub which meant draining the hot water heater into the tub, waiting for the heater to fill and reheat, then draining it again.  Once the tub was full and the water reheated, I moved to the shower where I felt some relief.  That’s when I started dry heaving.  I never experienced actual transition with Caedmon so this was new.  I think I knelt down in the shower and my water didn’t just break, it exploded – it was like opening a shaken soda can.  Things were starting to get pretty intense (as if they weren’t already), and I felt the need to get out of the shower and move around. 

I moved back into the bedroom and got down on all fours.  I was beginning to feel a very slight urge to push, and I began to think, “Okay, if it’s time for this baby to be born then it’s happening, and it will be okay.”  I moved back to sitting on the bed, and the doorbell rang.  In came my sweet midwife who asked if I wanted to be checked.  Yes, I did, and I was 9 cm!  So I moved to the tub.  Not long after I got in the tub, Caedmon woke up.  We had read him a book about birth where the mom “roared like a lion.”  So of course, Caedmon comes in and says, “Mom, are you roaring like a lion?”  “Yes, Caedmon.”  “Mom, are you swimming like a lion?”  “Of course.”  And that was that as far as Caedmon was concerned.

The water was a bit of a relief, and I soon felt the need to start pushing.  I think the nice thing about the water is that it really allowed me to relax between the contractions.  I thought it was taking a while.  Caedmon was born after twenty minutes of directed pushing.  But when my midwife told me it had been an hour, I couldn’t believe it.  She asked if I wanted her to check me to see if she could help.  I was feeling pretty ready to be done, so I did.  She gave me a homeopathic to help the stubborn cervical lip that was getting in the way.  Not long after that I needed to get out of the tub to use the potty.  While in the potty, I felt the baby’s head start to crown. 

(I have to make a side note here.  One of the things that makes this experience so amazing is how involved I was – yeah, I know that sounds funny since in both situations I was birthing a baby.  At the hospital, they had to practically force me to touch the baby’s head, and even so, I don’t remember much of anything about it.  I think I’ll remember what Caitlin’s squishy little head felt like for the rest of my life.)

I called in my midwife, who told me there was still time to get to the tub if I wanted to have her in the water.  So I quickly waddled back to the tub.  In one big push, her head came out.  The cord was wrapped around her neck and it was too tight to unwrap, so I pushed like a mad woman to get the rest of her (ahem, ginormous and somewhat stuck) body out.  After one or two more big pushes, she was born into the water, my midwife handed her to me, and it was amazing.  I feel like there should be better words to describe something so awesome, but I’m not the writer I used to be, and those words just aren’t there.  She was beautiful, Collin was right there, and Caedmon came in almost immediately to meet his new little sister.

Next blog, I’ll tell you what a great day that was after she was born because the benefits of home birth don’t stop with the birth!

Caedmon's Birth Story, Part Four

Let’s see.  When we left off, we were on our way to the hospital.  I should also point out that I was fairly convinced that I was pretty far along.  I don’t think I could have thought I was in transition yet, but I definitely thought my contractions were five minutes apart, although it was hard to tell.  From the time we walked out the front door, it felt like a downward spiral.  At home, I was calm and relatively comfortable.  On the way to the hospital, I was really uncomfortable.  There was conflict in my mind over feeling totally wrong to get in a car and change locations during labor and relief that we were on our way to the hospital.  You see, as nice as it sounds when they tell you to labor as long as possible at home or that you don’t have to even come in until you feel the need to push, my biological response didn’t work that way.  Once I realized that this is it, and I don’t know when this baby is actually coming out, I started looking for my cardboard box in a closet.  I wanted to find a place, settle down, and go about the business of giving birth.  I didn’t want to get comfortable, nor could I get comfortable, knowing that I would have to relocate at the critical moment.  But I digress…

Once we got to the hospital, it got worse.  I went to triage (or whatever they call it).  First, they checked me and told me I was only three centimeters.  I felt like someone had deflated my labor balloon.  I looked across the room and saw the diagram of dilation; I saw those seven centimeters that I still had to go.  Then they told me they had to do a test to make sure my water had broken.  To this day, I do not understand why they did this.  I had been gushing water for five hours.  I could understand in a for-profit hospital where they can charge you an extra twenty or two hundred (if my recent ER bills are any indication) dollars for the test, but this was a military hospital.  They don’t have anything to gain from running unnecessary tests and procedures.  When they put me on my back to do the test, I felt like I was going to break in half.  This was the point where I turned to Collin, and said, “I can’t do this.”  And as the words came out of my mouth, I’m thinking I’m not supposed to feel this way until transition.  When I sat back up it was better, but I think at this point, the damage is done.  I’m entering into panic mode, and panic mode is what causes pain in labor.

The guy comes back and tells me (surprise, surprise) my water has broken.  So I wrap a sheet around my waste, and I walk half-dressed down the hall to my room.  I change into a hospital gown, which immediately makes me feel like I’m sick and possibly dying because that’s what I think of when I think of hospital gowns.    I go to the bathroom and feel like I’m going to throw up.   And I think again This is not supposed to happen until transition.  Then the doctor comes in and tells me they have to do an ultrasound to check the position of the baby, even though my midwife has checked this at my last two appointments.  So back on my back again I go.  And once again, I feel like I’m splitting in half. 

With that over, I’m handed over to the labor and delivery nurse.  This nurse was a blessing and a curse.  I’m forever grateful that I had a nurse that was supportive of natural labor; however, she decided to take over as my labor coach.  Unfortunately, she knew nothing about Hypnobirthing.  I spent the rest of my labor being told I needed to open my eyes and focus.  Not at all what I practiced.  Poor Collin got pushed to the sidelines.  And I was in such a state that I didn’t know what to do except to listen to her.  I was in constant pain.  There was never any down time in between contractions for me to collect myself and regroup.  They started the intermittent monitoring.  People would come in wanting me to check things or sign things.  I would basically try to ignore them, and they would look at the machine that goes ping and say, “Oh, we’ll just wait until the contraction is over.”  I’m sorry, what part of back labor do you not understand?  If you work in labor and delivery, then you need to understand that a woman who is having back labor doesn’t have an "in between contractions." She is in constant pain.  In fact, a woman who is in labor with no drugs is not in a mental state to take care of business.  Leave her alone.

Other than that, the labor was pretty uneventful.  My friend brought us bagels, but they made her leave them outside since I wasn’t allowed to eat (it’s not like you need fuel when your working that hard, right???).  Towards the end, the nurse thought having an oxygen mask might help me “concentrate” during contractions (Once again, not what I was supposed to be doing, but it’s hard to go to your happy place when every time you close your eyes, you’re nurse tells you to “open your eyes.  You can sleep after the baby comes.”  What planet was she from?  I didn’t sleep again for a month!).  So here I am hooked up to the stupid fetal monitor and breathing through an oxygen mask.  I kept asking for ice chips because my mouth felt drier than the desert (I later found out that Collin didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to have water.  He just thought I really liked ice chips!).  I start feeling the need to push, and the nurse tells me I need to breath the baby down.  This is the point in my mind that I see myself turn into a dragon and breath fire into the face of the nurse.  Maybe if I had been doing my Hypnobirthing techniques, I could have tried to override the intense urge to push, but with the stuff she had me doing, I felt like I had reached the top of the mountain and now I was hurtling down like an out of control train.

So she goes to get the doctor.  The general consensus is that I still have a cervical lip, but since I’m going all natural, I should be able to do it.  I’m so glad they all got together and decided it was time to do what my body had already decided on.  This is where things really fall apart (at least for me and the birth I had imagined and wanted – and once again, there was no reason I couldn’t have had).  Suddenly there is this flurry of activity.  Carts with trays full of equipment are pushed in.  Bassinets and baby warmers appear out of the wall like magic.  Half of the bed is pulled out from under me – stirrups appear at my feet, handles appear at my side.  I don’t know the exact number but somewhere between ten and fifteen people show up in the room.  Next thing I know, everyone is looking between me, my crotch, and the machine that goes ping, and yelling at me to “Push!” and counting, and then yelling at me to “Breath!  Breath for the baby!”

Twenty minutes later (and seven hours from the start of labor), Caedmon was out.  He was supposed to go straight on my tummy.  Here’s what happened instead…They lifted him up, and I saw him.  He wasn’t crying, which is perfectly normal.  Then they took him over to the bassinet/warmer thingy.  At that point, I panicked.  The only reason I could think of that they would take him away instead of giving him to me like they were supposed to is if something were wrong.  Over the clattering of the giant crowd in my room, I finally got Collin’s attention to ask him if everything was okay.  It was the longest probably less than a minute of my life, and I was practically in tears by the time he responded, “He’s perfect.”  By the time they gave him to me, they had been quite successful at getting him to cry.  They had also wiped him off (against my wishes) and covered his poor little feet in ink for the footprint.  He looked like he had been beat up.

I guess it’s at this point that they inform me that I’ve torn (Hmm…I can’t imagine how that happened.  Maybe all that crowd directed pushing?), and I’ll need to keep my feet in the stirrups until the OB on call can get there to check the tear.  Now the actual birth didn’t hurt, but having to lay there with my feet in stirrups for forty-five minutes while waiting for the OB was extremely uncomfortable, not to mention wondering that whole time if my vagina had been torn beyond repair.

Oh, but wait…this may be my “favorite” part of my birth story.  You see once they got Caedmon to cry, he didn’t seem to really want to stop.  I couldn’t get him to nurse, and holding a baby when your feet are in stirrups and you’ve got a freaking IV needle stuck in one hand is probably hard enough for the experienced, but for someone who hasn’t held a baby in ten years, it’s a bit confusing to figure out.  So what does my nurse tell me?  “The reason he’s crying is because you’re hurting him.  See that bruise on his head?  That’s from hitting your pelvic bone.  You’re pressing on that bruise.”  I can’t even begin to tell you what that did to what little confidence I had.  Simply readjusting him would have been enough.  She didn’t have to tell me I was hurting my new baby or that I had already inadvertently hurt him with my pelvic bone during labor.  At that point, I handed him to Collin, and I really think it was that moment that started a lot of our bonding issues, which then led to breastfeeding issues. 

Eventually, the OB showed up.  I was stitched up.  I was allowed to eat my bagel.  And I eventually headed to my room in the postpartum unit. And that was that.

 

This is me after the birth.  Notice the broken capillaries in my face.  That's not supposed to happen. That is from crowd-directed Valsalva pushing.

Now that the birth story is done, I’m going to try to start my breastfeeding story.  Stay tuned.

Completion

Yea!  I finally completed a project!  I've been planning to get Caedmon a doll and a sling for when the baby is born.  I was thinking about slings, and I thought I remembered an alteration on the adult sling in Amanda Blake Soule's Handmade Home to make one for a child.  Sure enough, it was there.  And I just happened to have some really awesome train and car material that I had no plans for.  So here it is.  I finally finished my first project in three years other than a pillowcase!!

And since I saved a bundle on the sling, maybe I can actually afford to buy the doll I want to buy from Nova Naturals.

It Happened on the Way to the Midwife, Part 1.

In order to keep this from being too long, I'm going to assume that you know me.  But if you don't, I would be happy to tell you about my previous pregnancy and birth experience, my strong belief in natural birth, or about how I live in a town where it seems the majority of people (including doctors) don't bother to pick up books and educate themselves or in the rare case that they do, they don't bother to do any research on the credentials of the authors that they are reading.  Where to start?
I am planning a home birth.  In a perfect world, OBs would be willing to work with midwives so that home birthing mothers have a back up OB who is not a complete stranger in the event of an emergency.  But we don't live in a perfect world, we live in a country with a very broken system for maternity care.  Nevertheless, I was advised by my midwife to visit the local OB who has provided unofficial back up for her in the past.

I'll say this right now, I was not excited about having to meet his man.  I'm not excited about anything that takes me onto the property of the local hospital.  Ridgecrest  Regional Hospital scares me.  I was even more apprehensive when I went online to get  Dr. Miller's phone and saw the absolutely terrible reviews of him.  But this was a hoop I had to jump through, so I picked up the phone and dialed.  I left a message with them.  I said, "I am planning a home birth, and I would like Dr. Miller to be my back up physician.  My midwife said that I might be able to just talk to him on the phone."  They called me back a couple of days later and left me a message with their phone number and office hours.  Helpful, aren't they?  I called back and left another message.  The next time they called I was home to answer.  They told me Dr. Miller didn't do phone interviews, and that I would have to make an appointment.  I made the appointment.  The earliest appointment they had was a month from the  day I called.  I reminded them once again that I was having a home birth with a midwife and that I did not want an exam.  They said it would just be an appointment to set me up as a patient and talk to the doctor.  Okay.

I wanted to be prepared for what to expect.  I didn't even see an OB when I was pregnant with my first child.  I saw a nurse-midwife during my pregnancy and a family physician attended his birth (all within the military medical system, so there was no drive for profit - it makes a difference).  So I called my friend who had a home birth with my midwife in May.  She told me he would make you thankful for our midwife.  But he was used to this and would talk to you, offer you a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and an ultrasound.  But overall, he was friendly, and it wasn't that bad.

Since I actually have to leave in a few minutes for an appointment with my midwife, I will go ahead and post this.  I'll get the long story of the actual meeting up as soon as I can.

New Years Resolutions...

I guess you could call them resolutions, but I'm not really into making New Years Resolutions. In my experience, that's a good way to guarantee they don't actually get done. All that to say, over the past year, there were two things I really wanted to do: March for Babies and Race for the Cure. Well, during the March for Babies I was somewhere between seven and eight months pregnant, and my mom pretty much forbade me from walking five miles (Yes, I still listen to my mother.). When the Race for the Cure came around, I was still dealing with what I can only call "New Mother Syndrome." In other words, my world was still turned upside down from the arrival of my bouncing baby boy in June.

All that to say, this year I'm going to do both. Practically speaking, I'm hoping that the knowledge I'm going to have to walk five miles in a few months will inspire me to start walking more now and help me get rid of those few extra pounds Caedmon left behind. From a more heartfelt place, here's why I'm doing this:

March for Babies...it doesn't take much explanation. On June 8, I was blessed with a healthy, happy baby. But for the nine months that he was in my womb, I thought about all that could go wrong. And I thought about all the moms, dads, and babies who face these challenges. And it made me want to do something.

Race for the Cure...I have a cousin who has been fighting breast cancer for so long I can barely remember a time when she wasn't in this battle. She is a daughter. She is a sister. She is a wife. She is a mother to two beautiful children. She is the kind of person who lights up a room and brings out the best in people. She is the most positive person I know, and she remains this way through the struggles of cancer. I want to be a part of the race for curing this terrible thing that takes so many wonderful women (and men) from our lives.

So there you have it. Those are my goals for this year. Oh, and one more. I'm going to try to write on this dang blog more often. :-)

Caedmon Update

Rather than reply to everyone individually, I thought I'd just post what's going on. For the past month, I've been working overtime trying to get Caedmon to gain weight with breastfeeding alone. We've been having problems with this from the beginning (thanks to the Naval Hospitals very liberal policy on supplementing and this anxious new mom's inability to tell them no), but it resurfaced at his 4 month well baby check. He was a whopping 10.5 pounds. So I went to a lactation consultant, where we fixed his position at the breast, started supplementing (myself, not Caedmon), and I started doing some pumping (but I hate pumping and I had a single pump, so I wasn't very vigilant about it). At four and a half months, we had a weight check where he lost an ounce and a half. I had ordered a better pump, so we give that two weeks. So I went to pumping after (almost) every feeding and giving him the pumped milk. So the big results day was yesterday. He gained half an ounce. So to sum it up, he actually lost an ounce over the last month. So now we're supplementing, and I'm slowly processing. I now it's not a huge deal, but when I started I wasn't even planning on giving Caedmon bottles...of anything. And while I don't plan to stop breastfeeding, I don't really see the point of continuing all these efforts to increase my milk supply when we haven't seen any real change. My plate is already full. I need a break. I need a glass of wine. I read in one of my breastfeeding books that there is nothing better than the feeling of watching your baby thrive on your own milk, but they never said anything about what happens when they don't.

Anyway, his next check is in two weeks. Everything else with him is well. He is getting longer, meeting his milestones, and continues to be a little bundle of energy and personality.

Note: Please, please don't let my story discourage you from breastfeeding. I am a rare case, and I'm pretty sure that my case is the result of some poor decisions made by a mediocre healthcare system during the first days of Caedmon's life. Breastfeeding is still the best; it's why I've worked so hard to continue. If you have any questions about breastfeeding, please email me or get in touch with your local La Leche League.

Milk Connoisseur and other thoughts...

Caedmon is a milk connoisseur. He prefers his milk fresh from the source and anything else makes him downright pissed. Part of me is proud of this. I think, "That's right. My baby's smart enough to know the good stuff, to know what's best for him, and to accept no substitutes." But then I hear him screaming from two rooms away as I am heading for the church nursery, buzzing parent pager in hand. I know some folks (I just said folks. I think I've been listening to too much Sarah Palin) would say it's the way I parent him, but I just don't agree. Babies are babies, and there's not much you can do about that. They have their own personalities, and they're too young to understand that sometimes you have to bend a little. For example, Caedmon really doesn't understand when I tell him, "Hey Buddy, Mom's going to take you out of this car seat when she gets to Publix in ten minutes." All he knows is that he doesn't like the car seat (for whatever unknown reason that I wish I could fix). I could point out families that have more than one child or multiples, and the fact that they are all raised the same way, yet some are easy and some are high-need.

Which brings me to another point. I have been guilty of this before but I try to watch my wording. So-called "good" babies aren't "good" they are simply easy. Because if those babies are good, that makes my baby bad. And my baby isn't bad, he is "high-need."

Well, I didn't really mean for this to be such a long drawn out post that got into my personal parenting beliefs and philosophies. All I really meant to say is that I have mixed emotions about Caedmon's displeasure with the bottle. Mommy would really like to be able to get leave you with daddy and go get a massage some Saturday, don't cha know?

On a lighter note, love this video...



Note: I guess I should have clarified since my own mom thought that was me and Caedmon in the video above...this is a funny video I ran across on YouTube.

Breaking in the New Jeans

While carrying Caedmon in the Baby Bjorn around Burlington Coat Factory today, he managed to pee down the front of my new jeans and onto my shoes while only getting a few drops on himself. Now that's talent.

Things They Don't Tell You Part 1

I should be preparing my brussel sprouts for dinner tonight, but I'm not. Here's some advice for the preggos out there that I wish someone had told me. If you are breastfeeding and you plan to pump at all, even just once a week, shell out the money for the Medela Pump in Style. Honestly, if I knew for a fact it would work better, I would go buy one right now. But here's the deal (in easy to read bullet points for your convienence):

• Even if you are a SAHM and are just building up a milk bank for back up, etc., sitting and pumping for 30 minutes to get an average of 1.25 oz (yes, you read that right) is no fun.
• And guess what? 30 minutes is hard to find when you are at home with a baby who actually nurses all the time. Double pumping = half the time.
• Studies have shown that double pumping increases prolactin levels meaning pumping is more productive and does a better job of boosting your milk supply.

So if you're picking out a pump and you are committed to breastfeeding, please do yourself a favor and get the good one. Then, unlike me, you will be less likely to find yourself crying over spilled milk when one of your storage bags leaks.


This bottle represents 30 minutes of my life. It is not even half of a feeding.

High-Need Babies

Dr. Sears says that high-need babies make better parents. I try to remind myself of this when I have spent 90% of my waking hours nursing, Caedmon won't take a nap, and he doesn't want to be worn in a carrier, but refuses to be put down. I'm convinced there were subliminal messages in that recording of Oh, the Places You Will Go that C sent from the boat telling him that I needed to be edified.

Sleeping Arrangements

Recently, Caedmon likes to sleep with his head tucked into my armpit. This only makes it more important that I try to get a shower at least every couple of days...

Feeble Attempts at Blogging

Okay, so I've decided to attempt blogging. My goal is to write just one sentence each day. If it is more than that, great. If not, well, at least all these thoughts in my head will slowly trickle out. So what's on the plate for today. Caedmon is taking a nap. It's a beautiful thing.

Yesterday, the little man survived his first day in the nursery at church. And Mom survived her second separation from him (the first being a dentist appointment on Thursday).

Well, no brilliant thoughts for today, but it's a start.

Brandy's Thought for the Day

People who think that a normal pregnancy is ten months can't count. That or they don't understand that no matter how the doctors and books choose to count it, you are not actually pregnant until sperm meets egg. To prove my point, let me explain how I calculated my due date:

Date of Conception + 9 Months - 1 Week = D-Day

Now, I'm not counting going past your due date, but since they induce at two weeks past your due date, the most you could be pregnant is nine and a half months. Okay, I'm glad I got that off my chest. By the way, I suck at math.

Thoughts on Thermometers

Oh, the things you learn when registering for babies. Luckily, I worked at Toys R Us for three years, and baby registries were part of my job. So I know that baby registries aren't all fun and games, baby needs things like nail clippers and thermometers, too. So I'm scanning thermometers, a "normal" one for under six months (you know where that goes...eww) and an ear one for over six months (I can't believe how cheap these things are now!). Then to my surprise I notice a new thermometer, a pacifier thermometer. It's a pacifier with a little digital read out on the front - genius!

So I scanned it and pointed out the genius to Collin who said, "But it takes 90 seconds."

I replied, "Yes, but it doesn't have to be stuck up our babies butt!"

"I don't know," Collin continued. "90 seconds seems like a long time."

So I flip over the rectal thermometer for the read-out time..."60 seconds," I announce.

"60 seconds!" Collin says incredulously.

Suddenly 90 seconds with a pacifier didn't seem so bad.

Cravings and Aversions

Well, today is Sunday. Sunday is always a crappy day because that means we have to go to a church. I emphasize a church because we have yet to really know which one is ours. This is the rough spot in what is otherwise a very happy and harmonious relationship. The only church Collin and I have ever agreed on is Eastgate. Every church we visit we over-analyze. Collin goes in on the doctrine and theology; I start on the worship and atmosphere, and by the time we're done, no church works for us as a couple. It is beyond frustrating. And to be facing a deployment and a pregnancy with no church home is just downright scary for me.

In other news, the whole "morning" sickness thing is kicking into high gear. Everything makes me queasy from morning til evening. The stew that I ate last night now makes me feel ill even if I just smell it on Collin's breath. Cantaloupe is the only food that is always good to me right now, and every night comes a craving for an appetiser sampler from somewhere like Fridays or Applebees or a brownie sundae...or both. Ahh...the joys of mother-to-behood.

Day 23 - Nursery Day

Collin and I are trying to get as much done as possible, since he's leaving soon. So that means that things that normally wouldn't be done yet are being done. Is it bad that I already have three baby registries set up? Here's the thing, it's a work in progress. I add stuff I want or need now, so that I have the next eight months to research the products and shop around. If you're going to check out a registry, I suggest the Target one. It's got all the fun stuff on it. The nursery is going to be Classic Pooh.

So today is painting day. Unfortunately, all the research I've done says that I should avoid paint fumes, so I can't help. :-( But I did help prepare the room. We've got a really cute Pooh border to go halfway up the wall. The top half of the wall will be blue and the bottom half will be sage green. It's going to be super cute!