Tuesday, February 26, 2008
She can coo and ah at you now but mostly it sounds like geese with gastrointestinal problems mating. The doc says she will give up a non-gassy smile any day. My MIL is convinced her every screech is colic and brings the woe multiple times a day. I think she is just fussy--it's hard being a month old.
Babies this age don't do much but she can pull my hair out by the roots, squawk like an uncomfortable water fowl, make wild eyed expressions, grab at the elephant on her gymni really insistently and charm the pants off everyone she meets. Not bad for the tiniest of the tiny.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
We agreed to not exchange gifts, or do much to mark the day, since the baby is still so little. J broke the rules and bought me diamond earrings (which technically are a Valentine's/Anniversary/Thanks for popping out the baby gift) and we went out to a great dinner. I was scared to be away from the kiddo that long since I am her only food source. And my fear was rewarded with a HUGE freak out when we got back. She was so worked up about being hungry that she couldn't latch to eat.
But J jumped in and calmed her down and we tag teamed fed and calmed her and got her to bed. In a way that sums up our marriage better than diamonds and dinners. Sometimes things are just a raging hot mess and we run in and fix it whatever way we can--as a team.
Not the most romantic of thoughts, but one that is pretty fucking comforting in day to day marriage.
And since the kid is only a month old and I haven't had the all clear appointment there was no hope for J this was going to end with really sincere fellatio. He must really love me.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
I've had to start eating, which is a positive. Because while losing more than thirty pounds in two weeks is awesome, it was mainly water and baby plus accessories. I still need to make sure I lose the last bit in a healthy way.
Sometimes it is easy to forget about the pregnancy--even though it was a freaking long and agonizing--and expect everything to be the way it was. My recovery has been amazing. I mean I had major surgery three weeks ago. My incision has healed nicely, a lot of the weight has come off, my skin is going back to normal. Of course, sometimes I sit up and want to scream because HI they just cut those muscles less than a month ago.
We're figuring stuff out here these days. Plugging along. The days blend together one after another.
And at least I am not pregnant any fucking more.
Monday, February 18, 2008
That's my girl. Bright eyed. Awake. She does this now. It does make the rest of it easier to deal with.
She doesn't like baths. We learned this last night when she turned purple with RAGE at her bath. Screeching bloody murder from the second her clothes were off until we had her dressed again. Even then I was glad that I had planned ahead enough to wait to nurse after so she would calm down. The "Soothing Lavendar" bath stuff probably didn't make her sleepy as planned. But the screaming did wear her ass out.
She has to be swaddled at night. Or her arms flail around and keep her awake. She throws her hands up in a baby Touchdown! gesture. She is not amused if you imitate her on this one.
She gets the hiccups. Full body. I get the loudest hiccups known to man, so loud and full that they shake my body. As a kid my dad would accuse me of faking them. So sorry that I passed that on to you kiddo.
She's three weeks old today. Even anti-mush me can enjoy that.
Friday, February 15, 2008
They do not get an opinion because they are not the ones that pay the price when she doesn't sleep. They don't get up dozens of times during the night (or at all) with her. They don't take care of her during the day. NO ONE GETS AN OPINION BUT ME.
Oh, and J's assurances that my MIL would do whatever I asked? BULLSHIT. I asked her to please not try to keep the baby asleep all day long. If she is tired, let her sleep, but if she is awake have the lights on, talk to her, let her move her arms and legs. PLAY WITH HER. This has been met with an insistance on swaddling her in a dark room all day with a quick switch to letting her arms out when I walk in. My request that she wake me up in the morning after two hours so the kid could eat? Met with her using the pacifier to shut her up for two extra hours so that the kid is so hungry she is hysterical and makes herself puke.
By the way, I am still not allowed to complain. I AM UNGRATEFUL.
I am not allowed to say anything to my husband actually. He is so tired from delivering his software package you see. Which actually, I do feel sorry for him. But he still has the energy to stay up watching movies and go to bars with his friends while I am at home with his mother and baby and exhausted so my sympathy it is Limited.
The list of people I like is also limited. It includes my mommy. And daddy. And the baby. And you internet.
It includes J when he is being adorable with the kid. It doesn't include him when he plays with her for half an hour and then gives her to his mom (who, you guessed it, SWADDLES AND PUTS HER TO SLEEP IMMEDIATELY).
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
For the most part I have been lucky with breastfeeding. With a short, like five minute session, meeting with a lactation consultant at the hospital and a flirtation with nipple shields breast feeding has been pretty simple. I even weaned her mercilously from the shields without even asking her first. I suppose now that I have put this on the internet this will all stop and things will go to hell tonight but so far this has been a bright spot. I am tied to this kid and it is exhausting but at least it has been going as well as could be expected.
The kid is adorable. She gets cuter every day which is good because the hormones are wearing off and the old man newborn look is not as attractive as one would hope. She has fattened up and is filling out her newborn threads much more fetchingly. Also fabulous? How she can hold her pacifier in this tricky way and manages to stash extras in her shirts. How does she do this? Only the under one month set can know.
I managed to shoe-horn the hanging belly into another pair of pre-preggo jeans. These are still not my pants from my skinniest point but they are good jeans and fortunately high waisted enough to control the hang. I am still living in lounge pants but the option of jeans is a happy thought to have tucked into my pocket.
The bad stuff:
The kid doesn't sleep at night. She feeds and naps at lovely intervals (2-4 hours) during the day but at night she can't be down for more than fifteen minutes without something. Some of that is just new-mom shit, I can tell, she snorffles and I have to check on her. But I am also trying to keep her from waking up J and if I am awake anyway? What's the big. This is sucking the life out of me and cannot be good for her since she hits the morning all exhuasted.
I think I am sinking into post-partum depression. I am torn on what to do about this other than tough it out. Is it severe enough for meds? A new mom's group? It's all so confusing. And no one knows shit.
My MIL. Has been SO MUCH help these last couple of weeks. But lord, it has been more than a month and woman doesn't have a job. Or a shot at one. Which means she can't move out. Which is stressful. Even if she is helpful. My house is small and well, it's a lot. I don't want her gone tomorrow. But I'd like some hope that she will be out of the house sometime in the next couple of months. PLEASE
J is gone. All the time. This isn't his fault. Poor thing. He has a big project launching Monday. But it sucks. For me, because he should be with us during this time. And it sucks for Mo, who just adores him. But mainly for me, because I am selfish and if I have to fall apart it basically has to happen when he is here. And there are limits to how much I can hold my shit together.
Monday, February 11, 2008
I suck at being a mom. I hit bottom big time Saturday, with tears and freaking out and that wasn't the baby. My mom seriously had to come up and calm my ass down is sad because I am a grown adult. But I couldn't cope at all. And I still can't.
If you are wondering what is happening with me I have a sick baby, am slipping quickly into a depression and am trying desperately to sleep.
Just fine in other words.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
J's looking at me, "Jesus, was that your hip?"
And I am bolting for the door, very mindful of our brand new and expensive mattress. I wasn't really sure if my water had broken or if I had lost control of my bladder. J starts running around like a wild beast getting our stuff together while I am babbling about maybe it's just pee and this takes hours can't we stay home and he is on the phone with triage and we are in the damn car careening towards the hospital.
Where there is a wait to get into triage. I am the only one in active labor, and also the only one freaking out because it feels like I am power pissing my pants all over the hospital. While checking in with night security, while in the elevator and again on the bench outside of triage. They take everyone else first because they were there first, even though the sweet girl next to me (who was being screened for pre-eclampsia and just wanted to go home) kept screeching, "But she is in LABOR" when some one else went it.
They put us in a different cubicle this time, one with a door, which seemed like a positive sign that they believed we might actually have the baby. I joke with the nurse about not really being sure about the water breaking even though it is still gushing out of me, but I am not really joking I keep thinking that maybe this is just my bladder going--another humiliating thing about pregnancy. She checks and I am just barely dilated.
The contractions hurt more now. And no one is coming. There is no doctor on the floor. Apparently, every baby being born that night is coming via emergency c-section and there are a shitload of them because it is also snowing. The nurse comes back and good naturedly jokes with me that my water didn't break and I am not even pregnant so get out of that bed. But of course the water had broken and I am not going anywhere.
Hours pass and the doctor still hasn't come. No one checks me again because they don't want to cause infection. I am supposed to go upstairs to labor and delivery but there are no rooms available. Until then it is just waiting. J is pissed. I am just a mess and wondering why anyone does this shit natural.
A nurse appears and I love her immediately. She will be with us all night (and the next night but none of us know that now). She takes us upstairs, gets me settled in and checks me again. My goal is to get to four centimeters and get an epidural. She says that I am close enough that she will call the guy so that I will be first in line. She also gives me something to take the edge off. I am pretty sure I propose to her. I am her only patient, and fortunately she finds J and I hilarious. He really is being a champ. They bring me giant cups of water and juice because after the epidural I can only have ice chips. At this point it has already been nine hours since I had eaten so I gulp them down with a Tums chaser.
The anesthesiaologist comes and scares the crap out of me with the forms you have to sign. Not that I care about dying at this point, I just really want to be able to relax. The pain is a place and I cannot hide anywhere from it. They position me to put the tube in my back and I bury my face in J's waist so I won't move. And suddenly he is telling everyone to stop and is sitting on the ground. Apparently, Mr. Rock Solid is great around blood but iodine outdoes him and he has to sit this part out.
After the epidural I love everyone. I can still feel my legs and the contractions but they don't hurt much anymore. I have a button to push if the pain is intense for more drugs and a continuous dose dripping throughout the night. I love modern medicine. J and I pass out for a few hours after realizing the baby will probably have his brother's birthday.
In the morning I have not dilated much more. A new nurse is with us. She is also lovely. J leaves periodically to eat and usher in various visitors like my parents who have arrived even though we said it would be hours. I am more bored than anything. It still hurts but I am just very aware of time passing and little progress being made. Hours earlier we had agreed to the pitocin, once you have an epidural there is not really a lot of reason to worry about pitocin. My contractions were stronger and closer together but not much was happening.
At seven I am eight centimeters dilated. Our nurse from the night before is back. Just two more until I can push. J sends everyone home because it is still going to be a while. They can come see the baby the next day. Finally I get to ten centimeters. And we realize that the baby probably won't have his brother's birthday after all.
She is transverse and so we try bizarre positions to push from. I hang from a bar, J have my legs in the air. I push until my eyes pop out of my head. I definitely shit on the birthing bed. Probably more than once. She moves forward and then back. After four hours, the doctor comes in and tells me I could keep going for twenty more minutes but he doesn't think she is going anywhere. Most people quit after twenty minutes. I agree to the c-section. The baby is clearly a tough cookie because she hasn't crashed once but we are past 24 hours since my water broke and I am just done. After the decision is made it takes only a few minutes and we are in the operating room.
More drugs. And ioadine. But J isn't with me. I don't care much about what is happening. J does show up and is doing his best to keep me calm. He doesn't seem to realize that this isn't happening to me, it is happening to somebody else. I don't feel anything, I just hear the nurse's talk about "what a big baby!" and then "wait a minute maybe she isn't so big." And she was out.
That is when I started shaking and crying. I don't think I let myself be scared until that moment. She wasn't big, under seven pounds. And she was here.
The rest of our stay in the hospital was a blur for me, now it feels like a vacation with all the pain medication and sleeping. And now we are at home.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
This is my daughter tonight. Her jaundice numbers have gotten worse and yes, she is orange like George Hamilton. She doesn't have the other symptoms. She is energetic, she eats well, she is definitely filling diapers. At the ped this morning she was pretty close to her birth weight which surprised the doctor. But as a precaution she is on the lights until they get better.
As far as health problems go, I am keeping positive that she will be fine. But my baby is on a bed of lights, zipped in and I can't take her out at all 24 hours a day except to nurse her and change her diaper. It's a crazy thing to tell some one not to hold their newborn baby. And even crazier that it could be a week or more.
I am grateful that we can do this in our home. And given some of the things that visiting nurse said I am fairly confident she'll be out soon. But she is miserable in there, and I am miserable with her in there. We may have to do this but I do not have to like it.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
So I am going to talk about two things that have been fantastic for me (I know, I have been a mom for a week but I am just saying).
Glamourmom nursing tanks. Fucking LOVE. Wish that I had bought more than just two (actually am ordering two more). I bought the long lengths, one in black and one in white. They have a shelf bra which was just BARELY enough for me in my engorged porn star state. I did have to do a little stuffing. But I needed to wear something all the time and these were comfy enough for sleep and supportive enough to wear outside the house (not that I do much of that). They are comfortable, hold breast pads in place easily and cover the belly while you nurse. Although I haven't nursed in public yet, I have nursed in front of my MIL and dad in this baby so that tells you the coverage is good. They are not as shaping as some of the other bras I have seen but they are very good at least for this first week--when you just want to relax and sleep and not have your breasts hit you in the face.
And Kissaluvs cloth diapers (I did buy them at Jillians Drawers that link and got great service BTW). I am not much of an environmentalist. I am really just cheap. And when I figured out that I would save money using these, the baby was likely to be just as or more comfortable, they were super easy and better for the environment it seemed worth a shot. All the diaper boards (yes there are diaper boards, and an alarming subculture that I pretty much am frightened by PLEASE DON'T HURT MY BABY) rated these as the best ones for newborns. She had a couple of blow-outs with the disposables and none with the cloth. Her skin looks fabulous, they are so absorbant and since my MIL is here doing laundry I am THRILLED.
I promise to post more pictures of Gorgeous Baby and the story of her birth (something that should not be read by pregnant ladies even though it is nowhere near the worst thing that could happen but seems all the more likely to happen because we are both fine).
And I am sorry but how fucking fun was it to watch the Patriot's lose the Super Bowl? HEH
As a little tease: it starts with SAVE THE NEW MATTRESS, getting to the hospital and waiting in the waiting room, back labor with panic about how it gets WORSE, finally getting a room, J lying on the ground during my epidural, hanging from a bar trying to turn this child and then surgery.
Damn that little tease was long thing may turn into a mega entry or a multi parter.
I took the kiddo on a short outing today because I was getting stir crazy before birth and nothing makes that worse quite like a five or six days depending on how you count it in the hospital. Then I came back to my house and my mama ordered me to bed. Lying about how she would come get me. LIES.
The kiddo continues to be awesome. She sleeps really good during the day and moderately well at night. I think the night problem is mainly lonliness. She really just wants to some one to get up and hold her. J generally does that shift because I look like a corpse and have bleeding nipples.
My main problem is that I don't eat. I just forget about it and am still in late term pregnancy mode. So I don't eat much is apparently bad when nursing. Also I still look pregnant. Like six months instead of bursting but it is distressing because I look like I have a pot belly. With giant breasts. Maybe I am a transgendered trucker before transition?
Not so cute.