Thursday, August 19, 2010

Blessing


I woke up early on Sunday, and something was wrong. I didn't wake up at 4:00 A.M. For Bebe's feeding. It was 5:30! I thought to myself that she must be starving, and how could I sleep straight through a feeding. What was I thinking! I raced to the bassinet, and pressed the button for the small light. Our room was filled with a soft glow. As I looked into the crib I noticed something was missing. The baby was gone! Well she certainly hadn't fled on her own. I quietly crept into the living room, and found her on the couch snuggled up to my mom. An empty bottle sat on the coffee table. Everything was just fine. I went back to sleep for a half an hour. Then I knew I needed to get up and moving.
Church started at 10:00 A.M., and we needed to be there a few minutes early. Since our home was overflowing with company the sooner I took my shower, the better. I enjoy a good hot shower, but since I am typically self centered I don't think about anyone else wanting such things.
I took my time getting ready. Two hours later, I looked in the mirror. The last ten months of my life had been so full of change. In that time I had gained about fifty pounds, then in the course of a few hours I had lost thirty. Over the last five weeks I had lost an unknown amount. Since I refused to weigh myself I'll never really know, but by the way my cloths were fitting I felt like my prebaby weight was about fifteen pounds away. I could see myself again. I was completely ready, but I didn't want to put my dress & shoes on until the very last second. I didn't want to get messed up while I prepared Bebe for her big day. Yes, visions of projectile vomit, and other natural disasters raced through my head. I decided it would be best to wear my robe until it was time to leave.
When I entered the living room people were lazily milling around a few T.V.'s were on, and children were grazing on the many types of cereal they had found in the pantry. My husbands mother was feeding the baby. Bebe drank one ounce of her four ounce bottle. It had taken her nearly twenty minutes to accomplish this task, and she began to cry in protest. My mother-in-law set the bottle down, and said that she wasn't hungry. I was pretty sure she was hungry. I knew that I hadn't fed her at 6:00 and I was pretty sure nobody else had. Even if she wasn't really hungry she needed to eat we had to stay on schedule. I grabbed the baby, and began trying to burp her. After about ten minutes I was rewarded for my efforts. Bebe ate two more ounces. Then I drew her a nice warm bath, and grabbed her special soap. She watched me carefully as I washed her. She didn't cry at all. It was like she knew this was a big event. I wrapped her warm little body in a soft fluffy towel, and took her to her room. We used her special lotion, and put her in her beautiful plain white slip. embroidered on the bottom was her full name, the name that she would be given in just a few hours time, and the date of her blessing. I sat her up, and brushed her hair. The actual dress was so enormous that we couldn't fit her into her car seat with it on so we decided to dress her when we got there. She was ready to go. The whole house was in an up roar of excitement, but I was calm, Bebe was calm, and while the house filled with more and more excitement we sat still in the rocking chair, and let the world spin around us. People were yelling, children were running. One little girl walked slowly to her grandma and said,"Grandma, I don't feel good." then passed out flat on her face on our tile bathroom floor with a smack. This shook me out of myself involved state of mind but only for a moment. I was so focused on my little miracle, that nothing could touch me for long.
Soon it was time to go. I handed Bebe over to her father so that they could have a little quiet time, while I got dressed. I smoothed my dress over my slip. They I went to put on my jewelry. I put on my earrings, then the necklace that I had been given for my very first Mother's Day. Then I looked at my engagement ring, and my wedding band. I hadn't worn them in over four months. I had been worried that my fingers would swell, and the rings would have to be cut off of me. I decided to try them on, just to see if they would fit. They did, and for the first time in months I felt dressed. I went to the closet, and from the top shelf I grabbed the bright yellow bag where I had hidden my own idea of treasure. I took the bag, and placed it on our cedar chest. I removed a yellow box with dark black bold print reading FENDI. Inside the box was a silky black bag. I opened the bag and removed the contents, two elegant black patent leather peep toe slingback four inch heels decorated with a large black on the toe. My treasure. A gift from my mother who had bought them from the flag ship store at the very end of the via Condotti in Rome, Italy for my twenty-fifth birthday. I hadn't been able to wear heels for months, my feet so painfully swollen wouldn't have fit into these ones even if I had possessed the balance to wear them, but now my feet slipped into them for the perfect fit. I was ready.
We drove four blocks to our church, and It was buzzing with activity already. We went in and found our bishop, and reminded him that we would be blessing our daughter that day. Then my husband introduced our bishop to his father, who would be giving the blessing. Bebe and I found seats, and we saw that the chapel was filled with family and friends. A feeling of warm gratitude washed over me. The meeting began, and soon it was time to bless my daughter.
I listened to her grandfather giving her the meaningful name we had carefully selected. A name which echos wisdom, strength, knowledge, and timeless beauty. She is named after a unique ancient church residing in Istanbul, Turkey. A building that has weathered centuries of change, and still stands steadfast. A true masterpiece. Her middle name is that of my late grandmother to always remind her of her family. Tears sprang into my eyes, and I let them come. In that moment I knew two things. I knew of the power and existence of God, and I knew that I had been allowed to participate in the greatest and most common of all miracles. I was a mother, and no matter what else happens in this life I will be eternally grateful for the endless joy motherhood brings me.
After the blessing the father usually holds his infant child up so that the entire congregation can see them. Some fathers do this timidly or they are so wrapped up in the moment that they forget about it altogether. Not my husband. Her was so proud of his beautiful little child that he held her up in a manner befitting a princess. Her lacy bonnet gracefully covering her head, her black hair peaking out from underneath it. Her intricate dress trailing long beyond the existence of her feet. upon seeing her face the congregation uttered a unison,"Awww...." It was one of the most meaningful moments of my life.
After church we went back to the house and started working on the food. Nothing from the day before turned out at all, and my streak of bad luck continued, as the bowl of frosting, which didn't set up at all, was dropped on the floor in the kitchen. It exploded from the stainless steel bowl and I found chocolate marshmallow mess in very strange places for the next several months. Luckily the hamburgers turned out perfect. Of course I can't take any credit for that. My mother who owned a local drive-in restaurant for over thirty years cooked and decorated the burgers for me.
It was a perfect mess of a day, but yes it was, in my opinion, perfect.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Hello World!

Bebe was just a little over one month old, and the time had come for her formal debut. In our religious community each child is given a name, and a blessing usually on the first Sunday of any given month. We chose the first available Sunday. I believe it was June 2, 2008. We invited friends and family members to attend the meeting, and come to our house for a meal afterward.
The blessing is given by a close male family member. We chose my husbands father. The first Sunday of the month is also a testimony meeting, so anyone can stand up and testify about ways in which they feel blessed. This is a big event for every mother. Bebe would be introduced to our little world, and not only that, this was my debut as a mother. I wanted everything to be just right.
On Saturday morning I woke up very early. I had so much to do, and my mother was arriving to help at around 9:00 A.M. I was leaving the house for a hair appointment at 10:00 A.M., and would be leaving my child for the very first time. I had to get my hair colored. I'll be honest, I am a natural blond, I think, but my natural color is very dark blond, so I had some killer roots that needed to be taken care of.
I remember being so nervous about the baby. I had left her with my mother, and my husband, not a gang of wild hooligans, but in the back of my mind I just kept thinking that I shouldn't have left her.
I kept thinking that I was the only person on the planet that knew how to feed her properly. I worried thinking that she might not cry when she was hungry, and that the time might slip away and since she wasn't crying my mother would assume that she wasn't hungry, and didn't need to eat and then the feeding schedule would be off, and that would surely lead to the end of the world!
I thought I would enjoy getting my hair done. I thought it would be relaxing to get away from the house, but I couldn't wait to get out of that salon. When my stylist was finished I gave her the money I owed her plus a little extra, and then I sprinted for my car and drove home like a wild woman luckily it was just a few blocks.
I ran into the house to find that my mother had started cleaning, and Bebe was fast asleep in the arms of her father. I also noticed that there was a four ounce bottle near her, and that she had only drank two of those four ounces. I could usually get her to drink three ounces. My husband handed her to me, and I asked for the bottle. He said,"Kaysie she isn't hungry. She won't eat anymore." I began trying to burp her. This was always some trouble. She hated to be burped, and I insisted on trying. everyone else had given up on trying to burp her, but I knew that if I could do it she would drink another ounce.
As I said she hated being burped, and from the moment she was born she would fight it. When I watched other mothers burp their babies they would just lop them over their shoulders, and briskly pat them on the back a few times, and out would pop a huge burp, but when I tried to lop Bebe over my shoulder, she would scream, and cry, and arch her little back, and hold her head up. No, I am not joking. She held her head bolt upright when I would try to hold her over my shoulder.
The things we went through to get her to burp! But I am stubborn, and I always burped her. I would lay her on her stomach across my legs, she would fight it by arching her back, and then that little head of hers would pop up screaming like crazy. I would get so upset thinking to myself,'You are barely one month old! You do not have the strength to lift our head! Stop it!' Anyway, at the time I was a novice at burping, but now after Bebe I have become a master.
It took me about ten minutes to get a nice burp out of her. Then just as I was getting ready to feed her my in-laws arrived. They entered the house, and my mother-in-law announced that it was time to hand over the child. I did, and told her that she needed to eat so I also handed the bottle to her. She put it near her mouth, and Bebe wouldn't open up. She tried once more, and still nothing. Then she put the bottle down, and said, "Kaysie, she isn't hungry right now." Grrrrr. Foiled yet again.
Soon we headed to town. We went out to lunch, and then we learned that my husband's brother and his family had made it, and they were at the mall across the street doing a little shopping. My husband and his parents went to meet them. My mom and I headed back to the house. It was time to feed the baby. We needed to finish cleaning the house, and then we needed to work on the food.
We got the house in order, and then we saw my husband's nieces and nephews appear at the front door. The kids were tired of shopping, so my mother-in-law brought them over to the house to play. It was at this point that everything began to go terribly wrong. Was it a coincidence? Perhaps.
Suddenly there were toys strewn all over the floor, and everyone was running in and out of the house, slamming doors, and screaming. Then another niece was dropped off at our house.
I like to do everything myself, but someone offered to help me by making the cupcakes. I thought to myself just let them help you. It isn't rocket science anyone can make cupcakes. I went into Bebe's room to feed her, and pump. I told everyone to stay out, and only about 5 people walked in on me.
I finished feeding the baby, and put her in her swing. Then I went into my kitchen to find it left in a huge mess. I asked my mother for help on the clean up, then I started making my favorite yet very temperamental frosting for the cupcakes. One of the nieces wanted to help me. I set up the double boiler, and told her not to touch any of the controls.
Then my mother-in-law headed back to town to buy a few things that she had forgotten. As soon as she left the two oldest girls started fighting. I told them all to go outside and play, because by some miracle Bebe had fallen asleep.
The girls were still fighting so stepped out of the kitchen to settle things. I asked what the problem was. Both girls started in at once,"Kaysie she blah, blah, blah....", "but first she blah, blah, blah..." So I said," I don't care who did what. Both of you stop it and get along, go outside and play with the boys. Do not come in until I say to, and be quiet! Bebe is sleeping!"
I went back into the kitchen, and found the youngest girl stirring the frosting so sweetly. Then I noticed that something was wrong. The marshmallows were not melting. The stove had been turned off. Then I realized that the cupcakes were still in the oven the timer had not been set, and they were burning! I quickly pulled the first batch out of the oven. They were a mess. They hadn't even risen! I put the second batch in the oven, and turned the stove back on.
Then suddenly from the living room I heard someone yelling,"Die! Die! Die!" When I walked in the youngest boy was poking my sleeping baby in the stomach with a plastic knife, while screaming at her. I grabbed the knife from him, and told him to stop it. He looked at me with a look of disgust, and said,"I didn't hurt her! I was just poking her with a plastic knife." I said that I knew what he was doing, and told him to go back outside, and play with his brother. He said he didn't know where his brother was. That he had come inside to look for him.
Suddenly it was a man hunt. We looked all over the house. The only place we hadn't looked was in the master bedroom. We walked in and found him digging all of our neatly stacked storage items out from under our bed, and throwing then into a pile in the corner. He was looking for our two cats which we had locked in the master bathroom since we had company. I told both boys to go outside.
Then headed back to the kitchen. Where I found out that he stove and oven had somehow been turned off, yet again. I turned them back on and started cooking. I made sure the timer for the cupcakes was set. Then Bebe started crying, so I went into the other room to feed and change her once again telling the "helping" child not to touch any of the dials.
When I came back in to the kitchen I noticed that the frosting had been turned off again, but I didn't notice that the oven timer had been turned off. We finally got the frosting all melted together. I sat down with the baby for a few minutes to rest. My little kitchen helper had gone back out to play. My mom had somehow put the house back together. We sat in silence for a few minutes.
Then we began to smell something strange coming from the kitchen. It was the second batch of cupcakes. When I realized what it was I ran to the kitchen. As I removed the second batch of smoldering cupcakes from the oven something in my head snapped. A sudden volcanic explosion of profanities erupted from me, just in time for my mother-in-law to witness as she returned from her shopping. I was so angry that I didn't care who heard me.
You might think that this would let people know that I might need a little space,a little quiet, maybe even just a little time alone but no. It was at this point that I was informed that all the kids would be staying at our house for the night. I started saying I didn't have room for five children to stay the night at my house. We had a spare bedroom that my in-laws were staying in,and an air mattress set up in the office for my mother. There was Bebe's room, but I needed access to it for night time feedings, and diaper changes. I explained this. I was told that the kids could just stay on the couches in the living room or the floor. I said that I didn't want a big mess to clean up before church because we were having about thirty people over for lunch. Then my mother feeling bad for me offered to sleep on the couch so that the kids could sleep in the office. She said that she would be up early and pick up her blanket and pillow before anyone else woke up. I thought my mother-in-laws would refuse this,and see that I couldn't have the kids stay, but that was not the case. My mother was thanked for her kindness, and the kids moved their stuff into the office.
Then the door bell rang. It was my brother and his wife. When Bebe saw my brother she gave him a great big smile like she was greeting an old friend. It made everyone in the room get just a little teary, and it felt like my whole family even those who hadn't been with us for a while were there surrounding my beautiful little lady.
I asked my sister-in-law to trim Bebe's wildly out of control baby mullet. My husband had said that I wasn't allowed to cut her hair ever, but I ignored him because what do men know about having girl hair. I didn't care if it was short as long as it was growing evenly, and besides he hadn't been home all day.
We went into Bebe's room. My mom had the video camera, and my brother had my little digital. We began the epic first hair cut, and that is when my husband came home. He was upset. "I guess you want her to look like a little boy," he said. No but I did want her hair to be styled in a cute little pixie cut. My sister-in-law was very careful, just taking off a very fine fuzz, but it looked darling. I showed my husband what we had done, and he said that he couldn't even see anything different.
I went to sleep late that night. My mother and I stayed up to talk a little. It had been a crazy day, and another one was almost visible on the horizon.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Meeting Nurse K.

We had endured yet another week filled with visits to the doctors office. It was becoming quite routine. On Friday The Nurse for a free program called Healthy Steps was stopping by our house for our first meeting. I was very excited to meet her. Considering the month I had been through I felt I needed all the help I could get.
Nurse K. entered our home on Friday at 10:00 A.M. Bebe was taking her morning nap, and I asked if I needed to wake her. Nurse K. said no. She was really just their to talk, and to ask a few questions. She was an odd woman. Very straight forward. I felt like I was being interigated.
Nurse K: What year was this house built?
Me: 2002
Nurse K: At least we don't have to worry about lead based paint. Do you or your Husband smoke?
Me: No.
Nurse K: Does anyone who spends time with the baby smoke?
Me: No
Nurse K: Are you breast feeding
Me: No, not any more, but I am still pumping one bottle of breast milk for her each day.
Nurse K: Do you consume any alcohol?
Me: No.
Nurse K: Not even when you aren't pregnant or breast feeding?
Me: No.
Nurse K: Not even socially?
Me: No.
Nurse K: That is strange. Why?
Me: I have plenty of vices without adding them intentionally. I feel it would be unwise given my family history, and drinking conflicts with my religous beliefs.
Nurse K: Have you completed baby proofing your home?
Me: We have put the protective covers on all the outlets, but other than that what needs to be done?
Nurse K: I'll leave you with a flyer. Are you having any problems with the baby? I notice that you have been to the blood lab a few times, and you have been going to the office for a lot of weight checks. Why?
Me: I guess that Bebe isn't gaining weight as fast as her doctors and nurses would like her to.
Nurse K.: Is she lathargic?
Me: No. She takes naps, but she is also awake a lot. and when she is awake she is very allert, and energetic. She is difficult to wake for her 2:00 & 4:00 A.M feeding. If I didn't wake her she would sleep from midnight until 6:00 A.M.
Nurse K: I see she has dropped into the 11th percentile?
Me: Yes it concerns me. If it didn't I wouldn't be spending all my time sitting in line at the doctors office just waiting for someone to be late or cancel their appointment, so that we can weigh her yet again. Yes, I am very concerned.
Nurse K.: You meen that you have been to our office a dozen times in the month since your daughters birth, and you have to wait in line.
Me: Yes.
Nurse K. They are telling you to bring her in nearly every day for a 30 second weight check, and you have to wait in line for 30 minutes.
Me: if I'm lucky I only have to wait for 30 minutes, most days I have to wait 45 minutes, or an hour.
Nurse K.: That is rediculous! When I get back to the office I am making you a standing oppiontment for a weight check on Mondays and Fridays. Does 10:00 A.M. work for you?
Me: Yes! Thank you!
Nurse K.: Is there anything else I can take care of for you? Are you having any other problems or expirencing any depression?
Me: No I am stressed and concerned about her weight gain, but I am not depressed.
Nurse K.: Call me if you ever have any questions or problems.
And then she was gone. I never had to wait in line at the doctors office again, and that was a wonderful thing.
The weekend was upon us, and we had tons to get done. We were expecting about thirty people for lunch on Sunday. The house needed to be cleaned, food needed to be prepared. It was sure to be a wild weekend.

Monday, June 21, 2010

The New Plan

We fed Bebe every two hours just as we had always done, but without the breast feeding it was much faster. It still took between thirty and forty minutes to give her a two ounce bottle, then I would pump for ten minutes. I was still only able to pump six ounces ever 24 hours, but I felt like it was better than nothing. I would give her the breast milk on her 4:00 A.M. feeding. I noticed that she still drank the breast milk much faster. It was like she was hungry for it. It took her a half hour to drink a two ounce bottle of formula, but it only took her ten minutes to drink six ounces of breast milk! If my milk had only come in the way it was supposed to perhaps there never would have been a problem, but I digress.
We continued to visit the doctors office twice a week. I was assured that now that she was on mostly formula with a small breast milk supplement she would grow much more quickly, but really she was growing the the same slow and steady pace. The other infants her age were gaining more and faster. Bebe was slipping down the chart. By the end of that first month she had slipped from somewhere around the 35th percentile down to the 11th percentile. When they would show me her growth chart compared to everyone else the results were almost unbelievable to me. Bebe was still about five ounces below her birth weight, while other children had not only regained their birth weight but had gained a few pounds!
There were other issues troubling me too. People say the strangest things to new mothers, and I think I have heard them all. Bebe is her daddy's girl. She looks almost exactly like him, and when you see pictures of him as a child compared to Bebe they look like the same child. The only way you can tell them apart is the fact that Bebe had a ribbon in her hair from the time she was a day old. That being said, she doesn't look much like me, and when she was tiny she looked nothing like me. in that first month Bebe's skin was very dark due to her jaundice, she had black hair, and blue eyes. I have very fair skin, blond hair, and light brown, sometimes hazel eyes. We looked as different as night and day. I would take her shopping and every few steps someone would stop me and ask to see the baby. This was a very common conversation,
Random Stranger:"Oh, can I take a peek at the baby?"
Me:"Sure."
R.S.:"Oh just look at her! Oh she is a beautiful baby. She must be adopted."
Me:"Nope, she is all mine."
R.S."Oh, it's just that she doesn't look a thing like you. I never would have thought she was your biological child!"
Me:"Thanks... I guess."
It was much easier when my husband was with me. People still made the same comments, but I could just say. "I know she doesn't look a thing like me, but do you see the man walking two feet behind me? That is her father." Then they would say, "Oh, she looks just like her daddy! How cute." Yes, how cute indeed.
My very favorite comment ever was made by a little old lady who stopped me to comment on Bebe's hair. She came right up to me grabbed me by the arm and said,"I just have to ask, is your little one wearing a hair piece, or it that really her hair!" I started laughing. I couldn't stop. I was seriously I was cracking up. I thought she was joking, but she wasn't. It took me a minute to compose myself. Then I managed to blurt out something like,"No, it is her natural hair. Luckily she was born with those two lovely inches of thick black hair, because it is very difficult to find a newborn hair piece that looks authentic."
I couldn't' believe it. Time was flying by so quickly. Bebe was nearly one month old, and her formal introduction to our little community was coming up in just a few day. It was sure to be another wild adventure.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Death of a Dream

We returned from our road trip on a Sunday evening, and for the first time since Bebe's birth we had her all to ourselves. Yes, my husband would have to go to work whenever a job called him out, and yes, Bebe would have to visit the doctor at least twice that week. Other than that we had all the time in the world to be together.
I spent my time rocking her and singing to her. I would look at her and think to myself,'Why am I so stressed about this silly weight issue? She is fine!' And she was beyond fine. She did sleep a lot, but she had long periods of wakefulness, and during these she was bright, and happy. She was very alert right from the start. There are things that doctors will tell you about newborns, like they don't smile it is gas, or they may be smiling, but it is just a subconscious reaction to a feeling of well being. What? Isn't that what a smile is? When I smile, I don't think to myself, 'This event makes me very happy. I believe the time has come to express this happiness by bearing my teeth in a gesture of pleasure.'
They also say that babies don't track people or things with there eyes for several months. Yes they do! Bebe would watch me leave the room, and then watch as I came back, and every evening when her father would come home Bebe would hear his voice, and start searching the room for him. If that isn't tracking I guess I just don't understand that either.
I loved the time I spent with Bebe. I found myself holding her for hours on end. I really never set her down. Even while she napped I held her.
I would stare at her while she slept. I would focus all my attention on one strand of hair, or one eyelash.
There was one vein on her temple that seemed to hold a great deal of interest for me. I would stare at it marveling at it's perfect construction. It was as though I had a microscope, and from this vein I could see her whole body. I would think about the way she had grown inside me one cell at a time to create this living breathing being.
Then I would think to myself,'What have I done to deserve this amazing little child. Why has my father in heaven blessed me with this gift? How can I be expected to bring her light, and knowledge, and truth when I know so little?'
Then I would stop myself from thinking this way. I felt that this type of thought was a very slippery slope leading to postpartum depression. I would then dry my tears, and take a page from the old Saturday Night Live skit with Stewart Smally, find a mirror look into it and tell myself,"I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And dog-gone-it people like me!"
At the end of that first month Bebe and I were at a routine appointment, and she still hadn't reached her birth weight. I didn't know what to think. Was there a medical reason for her small size, or was it all my fault? This lead to only two conclusions in my mind neither of which were true. These conclusions were that Bebe was ill, sick, not well. This wasn't true,and since this wasn't true that only left one other conceivable conclusion. I was a bad mother. I told myself to toughen up. Bad mother or not, I was the only mother Bebe had. This meant I was both the worst, and the best.
Then Nurse H. told me what I had to do. Breast feeding just wasn't working. She said I could still pump if I felt like it, and that any amount of breast milk was better than none. I conceded. I left this appointment feeling crushed, but that was nothing new.
As usual I went home, nursed my child for the last time, pumped a few ounces of milk, put the baby in her crib for a nap. I started the shower jumped in and had a nice long cry.
I emerged from the shower a stronger woman. Yes, breast feeding was over, and I mourned the lost of it for myself, and for Bebe. I new that it just wasn't working for us. I was sad to lose that connection with my child, but I felt it was in her best interest. I vowed to pump as much as I could every day for as long as I could, and I knew this was the best choice for my child.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Road Trip

The next day we headed back to the doctors office. I told Nurse H. what had happened with the different formulas. She said that this was actually a good thing, because she was pretty sure what the problem was. Bebe had reflux. All she needed was medicine, and to lay with her head slightly elevated while she slept. She also told us to go back to the original formula. She still told me that the baby needed to eat more as well as faster. I was beginning to dismiss the faster comment. Honestly how do you tell a baby that they need to eat faster, and why did she have to eat faster. Yes, I realize that a baby who eats as slowly as mine can be a problem, but isn't it mostly because it is inconvenient to sit in one spot for an hour. Really, was it the business of anyone, but me, and to a lesser extent my husband, and mother.
Later that week we went in for yet another weight check. Each time I would take her in I would think of her birth weight 7'10", and hope that she had gained it back. Every time I would leave brokenhearted.
While my mom was in town we had to do so much to do. There were so many things that I just didn't know we would need, and some days we would just get home, and realize that we had forgotten something. So, off we would go for more stuff. By Friday the house looked beautiful, and the nursery was final complete. The colors where black, and white, with splashes of red, and bright pink, and the walls were graced by Marilyn Monroe, and Audry Hepburn.
The next day we were off on our first big adventure. My husband had some business to attend to in our home town, So he asked that my mother and I pack up Bebe, and come out for the weekend. Then on Sunday the baby and I would ride back home with him.
We wanted to introduce her to her great grandparents, some of her aunts and uncles, as well as some of her cousins.
We were not sure how her cousins would deal with her, because when they found out that we would be having a baby the reactions were pretty wild. We waited 6 years before we decided to have a child, and the nieces and nephews were used to being the only children in our lives. One child cried, because I wouldn't be fun any more after I had the baby.
Until Miss Bebe the closest thing we had to children were our two beautiful Siamese cats. One child was so confused by the thought of us having a child of our own that they asked excitedly,"Kaysie is going to have kittens?"
Yes, it was sure to be a very wild weekend. The packing was crazy, I never dreamed that one little child would need so much stuff, and the trip itself was no picnic. What had always been a two hour nonstop ride was now a four hour event with so many stops that I can't even remember. I wore sweats for the trip, and Bebe wore her pajamas. she was about seventeen days old.
When we arrived at my moms house she took care of the baby while I cleaned myself up. I mentioned earlier that I would not look down at my stomach until I had been given the green light to exercise at my six week appointment, and I stuck to that. This meant that I typically took showers with the lights out or with the use of a few candles. Then once I was dressed I would turn the lights back on. I felt like I was losing the weight pretty quickly. I wasn't any where near fitting into any of my jeans yet, but on this day I did fit into my size 3 cargo pants, and I was ecstatic that my white button down dress shirt fit me again. It was a little snug on top, but I figured that everyone would understand, because I had just had a child seventeen days ago.
My aunt, and cousin, and my cousins two year old daughter came over to my moms house. the were the first to see Bebe. Then we headed over to my husbands grandparents house. Sophia had a very special bond with both of them long before she was born. Every night of my pregnancy they prayed for both of us, and my husbands grandfather often talked about getting to see her again(like he had already met her)Her would talk about her long black hair, and her big blue eyes.
When Bebe met them she smiled like they were long lost friends. We all laughed, and cried, and celebrated being together.
Then we were off to meet her uncle, aunt, and four of her eight cousins. When we arrived at the house the two middle children were there just waiting to meet the baby. They were so excited to see her. They took turns holding her gently. The youngest swooped in for a peek, and was off to find more adventures.
The oldest excitedly ran into the house. She had been playing at a friends house. The second she entered the door she was telling her little sister that she, being the oldest, got to hold the baby first, and that she wasn't going to tolerate anything else. The other two said that they didn't mind because they had already held the baby. The oldest was noticeably upset by this. My husband and I had dared to defy her wishes. It was unthinkable. My husband went into the other room, and I helped The oldest niece, who was ten at that time, hold the baby. The two girls and I sat and held the baby. Soon it was time for a feeding. I stood up, and gently removed Bebe for the oldest child's arms. The ten year old was looking at me in a way that surprised me. Then she said,"Kaysie it really is too bad......" I asked what she was talking about, and then I was hit with this little gem,"Well I just noticed that you have that big, fat, flabby, mom belly now. I guess it is true that after a woman has a baby her body will never be the same." I stood there with my mouth nearly hanging open out of shock. I managed to retort,"I just had her seventeen days ago."I noticed a little bit of venom slipping into my voice. She said, "I know, and you are still huge." I regained some of my composer, and remembering that I was speaking to an innocent child said,"You do realize that it took my body nine whole months, a little over forty weeks, to change so that I could have the baby. It is going to take nine whole months for me to get back to my pre-baby weight. Even then, you are right, my body will never be the way it used to be."
This was the first time I had said this out loud. It was true I knew it was true. I felt relief. A sudden epiphany of light encircled me. I wasn't the same person. I was different now. Not just in one way. In every way. This one single event was a life time in the making. My body had been dramatically transformed in the last nine and a half months, but so had my mind, and my soul. This little girl had really hit the nail on the head this time. The thing that I didn't expect was that after the initial shock of the comment, I was alright with it. I wanted to be a different person. I wanted to be a better version of myself, and I felt that the transition had already started without my knowledge. I loved my body more now after being a part of this miracle. I really understood the beauty of being a woman, and began to love myself, big flabby mom belly, and all.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Projectile Problems

We had a very nice weekend with my husbands parents, and his mother was amazing. She did a lot of cooking, and even helped me with the laundry. We went to a wedding that weekend. It was nice to get dressed up, I was even able to squeeze into on of my prepregnancy dresses. I had a lot of fun preparing the baby for the outing.
I don't have a problem with people nursing in public, but I couldn't do it myself. Not even with the use of one of those little covers while hiding in the car. I had to be isolated in my nursing station, with lullabies playing, and my snack and drink close by. This made everything more difficult for the people around me, because I could only be out of the house for about an hour and a half at a time. I know I was being a real pill, but I would not compromise.
This also gave me an excuse to do the things I wanted to do. If I needed to nurse I needed to be home. Let's just be honest, the baby was only ten days old, and I really didn't feel like having her at a wedding with tons of new people for an extended period of time.
Bebe and I left early, and when we got to the house one of my very dear friends had driven a very long distance to meet my daughter. I was ecstatic to see her. I fed the baby then we talked, and laughed and joked, and I felt like myself again. We all went out for dinner that night. After dinner my friend drove back to her parents house, which was a two hour drive. Even though her visit was short, I was so grateful for it. It was the most delicious break from a very strict routine. It was a breath of cool fresh air, and just what I needed to feel energised and ready to go again.
The next day my in-laws left, and there were just a few hours between them leaving, and my mother returning for another week. I loved having my mother there. It was like I was a child, and she did everything. I was only in charge of two things feedings, and doctors appointments. That week Bebe had three appointments at the doctors office, and one in home visit from the Healthy Steps nurse. Healthy Steps is a nonprofit program, that helps educate first time parents. I signed up for the program at the hospital, because I knew I needed all the help I could get.
Early Monday morning we got up, and headed for the doctors office. Weight checks were never my favorite thing, and I really just despised going to weight checks for the first few months. They didn't take appointments for them, I just had to drop by in the morning(or afternoon) and wait until someone was late, or canceled. It was terrible, and so hard on Bebe's feeding schedule. On this day we only had to wait about thirty minutes. Then we got Bebe down to a clean dry diaper, and weighed her. She was gaining, but her gain was small, and the other children her age were having huge gains. Bebe had slipped down to about the 16th percentile. Nurse H. came in to see us, and said that it was time to change her supplement to see if maybe she had problems digesting dairy. She recommended that we try several different brands of formula, and try one or two that were soy based. They gave me a few samples, and sent us home. We would be coming back on Wednesday for a weight check, and to see if we could find a formula that would be a better fit.
We took Bebe home, and got back into our routine. This time we fixed her the soy based formula for her supplement. After nursing she took the supplement, and Joy of Joys she drank it all. I felt like the problem was solved. The mystery was no more. I was wrong again. We had several more successful feedings with the soy supplement, just enough that I began to relax. Then a new problem emerged.
Bebe and I were sitting on the couch snuggling. My father-in-law was a sales representative, and was working in the area. He had stopped by to see the baby. everything was so calm. I was holding the baby, and everyone was gathered around the couch watching her. I sat her upright to burp her, and that is when the fun began. She opened her little mouth and a stream of hot projectile vomit sprang out of her. It seemed like an endless torrent of sour milk drenched the couch, my baby and of course myself. Everything was suddenly wild again. The peace and confidence I had felt earlier were shattered. We tried different formulas after that, but the vomiting continued. I was so nervous to take her back to Nurse H. I know it seems strange, but I blamed myself. I told myself that a good mother can feed her baby.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Accepting Help

I only had to be alone with Bebe for three days. It seemed like a daunting task, but I just kept telling myself, 'Only 72 hours and my mother-in-law will be here.','Only 48 hours.','Just 24 hours.' Soon the time had come. Grandma A. was there. Things were a little different with Grandma A. I wasn't able to ask her to do things for me. I think she would have done anything I asked, but I couldn't bring myself to ask her for help. I felt kind of like she was bored and I should try to entertain her, but really the most entertaining part of my week was a trip to the doctors office. She came with me. I thought it might be a good idea for her to know how to get to the doctors office since we had been spending so much time there. As I was receiving my biweekly lecture about how I needed to feed her more. I felt like she was thinking that Bebe was just fine, and that bringing her to the doctor two or three times a week was really silly, but she was polite enough to humor me and the nurses. We weighed her and she had only gained about a half ounce since her last appointment. She was getting a little closer to the seven pound mark, but our goal was her birth weight. We were headed for the 7'10" mark, and it seemed to be so far out of reach. When we left my mother-in-law told me that she thought that Bebe was just fine, and nothing was wrong with her, she then called her daughter, and asked if her children had lost weight after birth. Then she called her daughter-in-law and asked her the same question. Then she said that all of the grandchildren had lost weight right after birth. I said that most children do. I explained that the fact she had lost weight was not the problem. The problem was the amount of weight she had lost. She had lost more than 10% of her original weight, and for someone who only weighs 7'10" that is a lot of weight.
It was very nice to have someone there to give Bebe her supplement while I pumped. Feeding Bebe was really a two person job. I was very spoiled, and very lucky to have people who were willing to help me out like this.
We did have one little snag. I was so tired, and my mother-in-law told me to go take a nap, and she would take care of the baby. I said that I would set my alarm to wake me in about an hour, but I asked that if I wasn't up in an hour and ten minutes if she could come and wake me up. She and my agreed. I had been having a little pain that day so I took one of my pain pills. I have always been somewhat afraid of taking pills. I even shy away from Tylenol unless I have a very bad headache. I felt that I needed one, and since I wasn't alone with the baby I felt it would be alright. I took the pill and fell asleep I was truly exhausted. As I was sleeping I had a terrible dream. I was falling into a black tunnel, and I was trying to get out and grab Bebe. In the dream she was hungry, and I was the only one who could feed her. I could not stop myself from falling, and I could not wake up. I know it doesn't sound so bad, but it was the most frightening dream I have ever had. Even worse than the one I had at the age of three, when a giant stole my mother, killed her, and ground her bones to make his bread. When I finally pulled myself out of this terrible dream the nightmare continued. I had been sleeping for four hours! This meant that I had slept through an entire feeding! I was about to sleep through another one. I didn't hear Bebe cry so I thought she had slept through a feeding too. I was livid. I kept quiet, because when someone is helping you out you don't throw a fit when they don't do things to your exact specifications. I grabbed Bebe and took her into her bedroom and fed her. I was so irritated. Bebe's feeding schedule all messed up, and now I would have to do the entire routine at that terrible 2 or 4 A.M. feeding. Later that night my while I was complaining to my husband about this he explained that he had asked his mother to make sure I slept, and he had told her to feed Bebe, and let me sleep. He told me that he knew I needed help, and he also knew I would not ask his mother to help me at night so I would need more rest during the day. I was so glad I didn't say anything stupid before I knew all the facts.
Oh, one more bit of information, after that terrible dream, I flushed the rest of my pain medication right down the toilet. Although I think of medicine is a miracle, I knew that I didn't really need it anymore, and further use of it might be a very bad idea. Good riddance to bad rubbish!

Monday, April 5, 2010

The Hazy Blur of Motherhood

The next few days flew by. We were consumed with the baby, and trying to feed her. Before I knew it an entire week had passed. It was Monday again, and my mother had to go home. She had to get back to her reality. Her husband and her job were waiting. On Monday afternoon she reluctantly left our home, and even though I had left her side many times in my life and never cried, looked back, or even gave it much thought. I didn't want her to leave. I cried. Then she cried. I didn't think I could do it on my own. I managed to tell her this through my tears. She reassured me that I could do it on my own because I had to.
As she left I watched through the garage door. I stood there with Bebe in my arms and tears burning hot fresh tracks down my face. As soon as her car was out of site, I took Bebe back inside. I had about twenty minutes before she needed to eat again, so I put her down in her crib. I turned her monitor on, and grabbed the receiver, and went straight to the shower. I turned the water up as hot as I could bear it, and I let myself cry. I let myself feel overwhelmed. I cried until I heard Bebe waking up. Then I pulled myself back together, and prepared myself for a marathon feeding session. This would be the first time I fed her all by myself.
I began feeding her on my right side for fifteen minutes, then on my left for another fifteen minutes. Then I gave her the two ounce supplement. It took her about thirty minutes to finish it. Then I had to lay her down to use the pump. This is were things began to get a little tricky. Bebe did not want me to put her down. She wanted to be held, and why not. She had been held or snuggled nonstop from the time she was born. I tried to calm her down, but nothing worked I messed around for about ten minutes before I realized that I needed to pump if she was crying or not. I placed my screaming child in her crib, went into the kitchen and began to pump. As usual I got about an ounce of milk. I put the milk in the fridge, and went to rescue Bebe from the crib. I had been in the process of feeding her for about an hour and twenty minutes. We took a nap together for about an hour. Then I was able to sneak into the bathroom, get a snack and a drink, and it was time to start all over again.
This was our life. Aside from going to the doctor every other day which really messed up our feeding schedule. This was our new life.
The hardest part on my day without my mom there to help was that awful 2 A.M. feeding. It was the shortest feeding of the day because I was able to skip breast feeding and pumping. All I had to do was feed her the breast milk I had pumped for her during the day. The hardest part was getting up. Bebe didn't wake up in the night. I had to wake her, and It was terrible. I had to take off her pajamas, and change her diaper just to get her to open her eyes, then she would fall asleep again before I could get her diaper back on. This was something my mom had done for me while she stayed with us. I hadn't given her the six ounce bottle of breast milk until now. I was amazed. she drank the milk quickly. the whole six ounces was gone in about ten minutes. She really could drink fast when she wanted to, and after this six ounces was gone she seemed full, and very content. It was easy to see that she enjoyed the breast milk much more than the formula. I felt like she was probably getting about three ounces on each side when I would feed her. This made it worth the time spent, at least to me.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Our First Well Child Visit

I had Bebe on a Sunday afternoon, and I think our first well child visit was on Friday. I may not remember the day of the week, but I do remember the visit. We were at the doctors office a little early, and we waited for what seemed like an eternity. I fed her before we left the house, but I was nervous about making it back home for her next feeding. We had a fifteen minute drive to the doctors office, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to find the building,and we had been told that if we were not there ten minutes ahead of our appointment time we were late. We were there fifteen minutes early, and we had to wait another fifteen minutes past Bebe's scheduled appointment time before we were called back. So by the time we got into the office it had been about an hour since her last feeding, time was rapidly running out. A very nice nurse took us into a room, I changed Bebe into a clean dry diaper, and we headed to the scales. She weighed 6 lbs.,13 oz. I was very pleased with this not only had she stopped losing weight, she had gained an ounce! This had to be good news right?
We went back into the little room, and I happily wrapped Bebe in her blanket, and waited to met Bebe's Nurse practitioner. We waited, and waited, and waited. Finally Nurse H. walked through the door. She was a tiny little cute as a button woman. She had short curly hair, big blue eyes, and a lovely reassuring smile. I felt very comfortable around her. She looked directly at Bebe, and Said,"Hello Miss Bebe. I'm very happy to meet you. Look at you! Your just a beautiful little peanut!" Then it was my turn, she lovingly interrogated me for about twenty minutes, then she said, "We are having a big problem with this little girl. She isn't eating nearly enough, and if your accounts of her feedings are correct it is taking her way to long to eat. It should only take her five to ten minutes to drink a two ounce supplement. We need to speed that up, I'll get you guys a bunch of different sample nipples to try. The other problem is that you need to increase your milk supply. I see that you are drinking a lot of water already, and Kaysie's Mama, is she eating an extra 1000 calories each day?" My mother verified that I was. Then Nurse H. continued, "Alright, then it is time for a supplement for Kaysie. I want you to drink three cups of herbal fenugreek tea everyday. Also be sure that nothing disrupts Bebe's feeding routine." I was thinking to myself not even waiting an hour to get into see you at the doctors office, but I held my tongue. I did have to ask,"Isn't Bebe doing a little better since the home visit? She stopped losing weight, and she did gain an ounce." She answered me, "Oh yes, it is great that she has stopped losing weight, and I am very happy that she gained an ounce, but the problem is that she lost so much to begin with, and most children this age gain at least an ounce a day, and it has been two days since she was weighed last. Now normally I wouldn't need to see her for a month, but I would like you to bring her in at least twice a week for weight checks. You just drop by between 7:30 and 9:30 A.M., or 1:00 through 3:00 P.M. You don't make an appointment, you just show up, and we squeeze you in when other people are late. I would like you to come in next Monday, and Thursday. Then if possible bring her by on Saturday too." Now I had one more question, "How do I get her to eat faster." Nurse H. answered,"She might prefer a different nipple, but other than that I don't know I'm not an occupational therapist. Maybe you could show me how you are feeding her the supplement, and I could tell you how your supposed to feed her. It's almost feeding time why don't you try giving her the supplement first this time, and I will help you." I said that would be fine, but again I should have said no. I should have said, 'No. I don't want anything to disrupt her normal feeding schedule.' and left, but I didn't I fixed Bebe's two ounce supplement, and Nurse H. watched her drink, and gave me tips,"Try holding her upright a little more, pull back on the bottle, hold her closer to you, push her away, dangle her by her feet, flip her like a beach towel......." Alright so Nurse H. never said those last two, but you get the point it was exhausting, and none of her helpful hints were helpful. I had once more trusted someone else when I should have listened to the voice in my own head, and I had squandered yet another opportunity to breast feed my child. I felt like the stupidest woman on the planet. What could be easier than feeding a hungry baby? I didn't think that my child might be very hard to feed. I didn't think all these people that feed babies everyday can't feed my child either. I just thought if I can't even feed her enough or fast enough how am I going to handle the big stuff. I didn't realize that for Bebe, and me this was the big stuff.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Dairy Production

Later that evening my husband and I went to the hospital to see the lactation consultant. My mother and Bebe came along too, but they decided to stay in the car. The lactation consultant explained the process of pumping, and gave me some information to read. She then showed us a few pumps, and said that we could buy a pump, or rent one. If I used the pump for more than two months rental was the same price as the pump. We decided to buy it out right. We figured that this was our first child, and that it would be a good thing to have.
Then we were off to the store to buy all the things we needed for the pump; bottles, storage bags, microwaveable sanitizing bags, and just about everything else you can imagine.
Then back to the house. Time for another feeding, and now I got to add yet another step to the feeding routine. As it turned out adding the pump didn't add any time to the routine. At least not while my mother was around. The new plan for me was feed one side, then the other. Then I would hand Bebe to my mother for her supplement while I pumped for ten minutes. At first this was actually much faster for me.
After using the pump I decided to read all of the information. As I was reading I came to a chapter that I was very interested in. This chapter talked about special eating problems. The very first section was devoted to babies with jaundice. It talked about all the problems we had been having. It talked about how tired the child would be, and that because they were tired they would have trouble latching on, and that the baby would eat very slowly. It also said that establishing a good milk supply without a pump would be very difficult. Yes, this information was valuable to me. I only wish I had known this sooner.
*An interesting side note, six months after the fact I was talking with my sister-in-law about Bebe's feeding issues, and the fact that she was jaundiced, and she told me that jaundiced babies should drink only formula, because the molecules are bigger, and they will draw the jaundice out of the body faster. She said that a nurse told her if you want to breast feed a jaundiced baby, you should pump, and store, until the jaundice is gone.*
In the first day of pumping I was so surprised that I actually had milk in my body. It seemed so strange to me. I kept thinking this was so amazing. I had actual milk in my body. I was producing a dairy product. It even had cream on top! Then I noticed that I had very little milk. In one 24 hour period I was able to pump six ounces of milk. I know most women can get more than six ounces every time they pump. It wasn't much, but at the end on each day I had enough milk for one feeding. The lactation consultant said that if I could do this I could sleep through one night time feeding, and someone else could just feed her.
This seemed like heaven. I could sleep for one four hour block each day. You might be wondering if I woke up when the baby cried or was hungry. No, I did not, because she didn't wake up in the night. She would have slept straight through. We had to wake her, and now that I could sleep through one feeding waking her for one of these feeding was no longer my problem.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Trouble

I think it is funny that everyone tells you to get all the rest you can, to sleep when the baby sleeps, and all of that. In the very next breath they are telling you that you need to go to the lab for blood work, You need to swing by the hospital and visit with the lactation consultant, you need to get a prescription filled, you need to stuff your face with food, and drink a few gallons of water. Then it is time to feed the baby again, and after that you find out that you have to return all the diapers you just bought(the baby can't wear huggies or she breaks out into a terrible rash). Then you remember that you need a birth certificate, and a scocial security number, and when you get the card they have spelled the baby's name wrong,and you get to start all over again,and blah, blah, blah......
Our hospital offered many wonderful programs, and we took advantage of all of them. Two days after leaving a nurse is sent for a home visit. We were not sure when the nurse would be coming, but we thought it would be best to go about our normal feeding schedule. Every two hours, just like clock work, we would feed left side(15 minutes), right side(15 minutes), then a two ounce supplement. She always took her time eating, and still she would only drink about an ounce of the formula.
The nurse came about ten minutes after we fed Bebe.
She checked me out first. I was doing fine, and healing nicely. No trouble at all. Then it was Bebe's turn. She looked her over, and checked her jaundice. I think she was at an eighteen, but leveling off, so she wasn't too worried about it. Then she got out her scale. I wasn't worried. After all, what did I have to be worried about. The baby had done nothing but eat. It took her nearly an hour to eat, and she was fed every two hours. so about half my day was spent feeding her. Before putting the baby on the scale, the nurse warned us that the baby had probably lost a little weight. She told us not to be alarmed. Then she placed Bebe on the scale. The scale read 6 lbs. and 12 oz. My mother and I looked at the nurse anxiously. She read it again, and said,"There must be a mistake. How much did she weigh at birth? The chart says 7 lbs. 10 oz. Is that correct?" We said yes. She asked us to give her a few minutes to calibrate the scale again. We waited. Then we put Bebe on it again, and again the scale gave the same reading. The nurse called Bebe's doctor to let him know the situation. She was unable to get Bebe's doctor directly, but she spoke to his nurse practitioner, Nurse H.
She said that my milk still might not be in, and advised me to go see the lactation consultant yet again, and buy a good breast pump. Then she asked if she could watch the baby eat. By this time it had been about thirty minutes since her last feeding. I told the nurse this, but she didn't seem to care. Bebe was always exhausted after her hour long eating marathon, so waking her up was pretty difficult. We had to undress her, and change her diaper. Still she was not fully awake, and she wouldn't latch on. My mother kept saying, "I don't think she is hungry. She just eat before you came." Still we tried to wake her and feed her. Then the nurse asked me about the routine we had established. She was shocked, "It takes her an hour to eat! Why?" We explained how the lactation consultant had told us to feed her, and she said that it should never take more than thirty minutes to feed a baby. I wasn't sure how to respond to that.
Then she asked us how we were giving the baby her supplement. We said that after feeding her on both sides we gave her a two ounce bottle of formula. She was appalled, and said that she shouldn't have a bottle if I was going to breast feed her. Then she went out to her car, and came back with a crazy elaborate contraption. It was a bag that we could put formula in, and a tube that had to be taped to my body and fed through my breast guard. Still Bebe wouldn't latch on, and this terrible thing I was hooked to was impossible to use, unless I had six hands, which unfortunately I do not have.
I asked again,"Is it possible that the baby just isn't hungry right now?" The answer was,"Even if she isn't hungry she should want to eat." Why? Why should she want to eat when she isn't hungry? I just didn't understand. I know that I don't want to eat when I'm not hungry.
Finally the nurse gave up on the breast feeding. I thought the home visit was over, but I was wrong. More torture was just ahead. The nurse then insisted that I feed Bebe her two ounce supplement.
We put the formula in it's usual bottle. She wouldn't eat. We tried all different types of bottles, and many different nipples, and still Bebe wouldn't eat. This woman had now been in my house for two hours. The same amount of time that typically lapsed between feedings.
Finally Bebe opened her big, beautiful eyes, and took the bottle into her mouth. She took her sweet time, but she drank the whole two ounces. While she was drinking the look on her face was priceless. In my mind she was looking at the nurse as if to say, "Look lady, I'll drink this bottle on one condition. You leave after I'm finished!" The nurse felt like this was a huge success. I did not. It was her scheduled eating time, and I didn't even get a chance to breast feed my baby. How was I ever going to get my milk in if these types of things kept happening? I felt like it was a huge waist of time.
The first thirty minutes of her visit was just fine, and really nice. I wished that I would have been firm with her, and said,"No, you may not watch her eat, unless you want to come back in two hours when she might actually be hungry."
All told, it took three grown women about two hours to try to convince a four day old child to drink a two ounce bottle of formula.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Going Home

That night as I drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep, I heard a little coughing sound. I was startled to a completely nervous state. I looked over into the bassinet, and saw that Bebe's mouth was covered with formula. I, being a first time mom, freaked out just a little bit. I jumped to my feet, and walked around to pick her up. I grabbed the bulb syringe, and began removing the rest of the vomit from her mouth. More was coming out. She was like a slowly flowing fountain of slightly soured formula. I tipped her on her side, and then I noticed that she was also laying in a pool of vomit. What? She had only drank at most an ounce of formula. How could so little going in look like so much coming out? I called the nurses station, and told them the problem. A very sweet nurse came in to help me clean Bebe up. I remember that I was talking really fast, and I asked her why she was throwing up, and if there was something wrong. I then felt all the blood drain from my face, as I had a new thought. What if I hadn't heard her tiny little cough? She surely would have drowned in her own vomit while her mother was sleeping only 12 inches away! I voiced my concern, almost before I finished having the thought. I was in full panic mode, when the nurse said with a very sweet smile, "Kaysie, do you see that she in laying in some of the spit up?" Yes, of course I showed her that. "O.K. So that means that she did throw up while you were sleeping. And look what Bebe did. She just turned her head, and let it roll out of her mouth." Then she said, "Relax, and I'll tell you a little secret about babies. First they want to live, and second babies are much smarted than people think. Everything is alright." Then she smiled and left the room. This Mother Thing was going to be tricky.
The next morning while the nurses were busily working to prepare for my departure, I decided to drag myself into the shower. I am the first to admit that I am a vain woman. Yes, I dress up to go to Walmart. I know it is an illness, but admitting it is the first step to recovery. Right? However, I went into the hospital with a completely naked face, and during my stay I did not fix my hair. I did not wear any makeup. I did nothing to beautify my appearance. I did brush my teeth four or five times each day, and I'm not sure why I was doing this. I didn't care how I looked, but I just couldn't seem to get rid of that dirty mouth feeling. I had taken a very brief shower, and washed my hair the day before, other than that I had done nothing vain during my stay.
I climbed into the shower, and took of my hospital gown, and made what I feel was a crucial mistake. I looked down. There I saw the shattered remains of what had once been my glorious flat nicely sculpted stomach. Now it was in flabby ruins. My belly button was a wide yawning hole seeming to cry out,"What have you done to me!" I took a breath, and said,"It is worth it." I vowed then and there that I would not look down, or think about the state of my body for the next six weeks. I would not go anywhere near a scale, and I would not exercise until my doctor gave me the O.K. at my six week appointment.
I got cleaned up, brushed my hair, and of course my teeth. Then I got dressed, and put on my makeup. With eyeliner securely in place I felt a bit more like myself. I relaxed, and waited to see Bebe's doctor.
He came into the room, and checked everything out. her jaundice was at a higher level than the day before. I might be wrong, but it seemed like she was at a fifteen. He said that if it got up to 19 she would have to come in to the hospital, and may have to stay for treatment. He also said that he wasn't too worried about that, and said the we would have to take her to the lab for blood work the next day. I told him that we had scheduled an appointment with Nurse H., his nurse practitioner, for a well child visit on Thursday. He said that was great, and that he was looking forward to having Bebe as a patient.
For anyone who knows my husband you also know that he is not the type of person who waits for anything. We were supposed to check out at noon, but at 11:15 he began to get restless. I was able to keep him calm, and quiet by saying that I wasn't ready to go, because the baby wasn't dressed yet. With the help of him, and my mother we got the baby ready to go. She was not a preemie or a small baby. She was not low birth weight, but my aunt, the same one who had witnessed Bebe's birth had also given her an adorable tiny preemie out fit to wear home form the hospital. It was a little white top and pants with little pink, and yellow flowers, and ruffles on the bum. My husbands sister had sent her the most adorable little pink booties, they looked like maryjanes, and although they were so tiny Bebe's feet were lost inside them. We brushed her hair, and put a little cap on her tiny head. Then we swaddled her in a pink and white checkered receiving blanket. After she was all dressed and wrapped she looked like a little caterpillar with enormous eyes, and so she was given the nickname of Bebe Bug.
Now it was 11:30, and my husband no longer distracted was ready to go again. He went and got the car, and brought it to the loading zone. Then he came back, and said to get all my stuff we were going. I took my time packing things up, and he and my mother took everything down to the car. He was ready to go so we headed to the nurses station. When we got there they were surprised. One nurse laughed and said,"Most of the moms have to be dragged from their rooms, and you guys are telling us to stop dragging our feet." Then they explained that we needed to sign a few more papers, and then we would have to wait for a wheel chair. My husband thought this was really silly. He said,"Kaysie is tough she can walk." Then they explained that yes, I could, but I had to be the one to carry the baby, and I had to carry her in her car seat, not in my arms. My husband quickly answered,"That's O.K. She can do it." I was stunned. Did he not realize what I had just went through? Did he not witness the birth of our child? I was exhausted form the walk down the hall, I was about ready to pass out just from standing there signing papers! I told the nurse that I would gladly wait for the wheel chair. She walked away to get it, and my husband said,"How do you think you are going to take care of the baby if you can't even walk to the car?" I calmly said,"Why do you think my mother is here? Why do you think she is staying for a week? I need help right now." We waited for the wheelchair, and he apologised for thinking I was super woman.
After being wheeled down to the car, and strapping the baby in we were off. We took Bebe home for the first time. It was so strange. Just a few days earlier my husband, my mother, and I drove to the hospital in the dark still night. Now we drove home, my husband, my mother, my baby, and I in the light of day. It seemed like an eternity since we left for the hospital. We Got to the house, and took a few pictures of her homecoming. Then we entered the house, and took her to the room which we had prepared for her. She met her kitty brothers, and we settled in for the ride of a lifetime.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Quiet Time

The time went by quickly. That is to say except for the twenty minutes of terrible pain that came every two hours. It was clear to me that I was not toughening up as quickly as I had hoped. I am sure the nurses felt the same way, because I continued to bother them by asking for help every time I had to feed the baby. I continued to think that someone would say,"Hey, wait this isn't right let me help you." That didn't happen. My doctor came, and asked if we would be going home that day. I laughed and said no. I planned to stay until we got the breast feeding thing down. She breathed a sigh of relief, and said that she really felt that it was best especially for first time mothers to take their time, get the help they needed, and not rush right out the door.
My mother, and my husbands parents were at the hospital early that day. My husband had to work, so he was in and out. The hospital schedules two hours of quiet time for mothers and babies each day. There are to be no visitors, and really they prefer that the father, isn't there either. Quiet time started at 1:00 and was over at 3:00. My husband decided that rather than sit around silently he would spend some time with his father. Our mothers decided that they would go shopping together. I was all set.
Until this point Bebe had been silent. I was looking forward to having her all to myself. Everyone left. A nurse came into the room with magazines and snacks. As she left she closed the blinds, and turned down the lights. Bebe was in her bassinet quiet, but with eyes wide open. I settled in and began to eat my snack. As I took the first bite, the baby seemed to be watching me, and she let out a little squeal. How odd. I took another bite, and again Bebe cried out. I stopped what I was doing and picked her up thinking that she just wanted attention. I brought her back to the bed, and sat down with her. Then I grabbed my snack, and with every bite the baby became more irate. By the time I had finished my cookies Bebe was in full blown fit melt down mode. I didn't know what to do. I wanted her to be quiet. I felt like she would ruin quiet time for all the other mothers, and I didn't like the idea of everyone thinking, 'I really would have enjoyed my quiet time if the baby in the next room would have stopped screaming for a few minutes!' I began to walk around the room with her in my arms. This was no good, the screaming seemed to escalate. I sat in the rocking chair with her. Still she was not going to calm down. I had never been around babies this small, and my arsenal of ideas was quickly used up. I looked at the clock. Bebe had been screaming for an hour! Then I had one more thought, I began to sing in a small soft voice,
"Smile, though your heart is aching.
Smile, even though it's breaking.
Though there are clouds in the sky you'll get by.
If you smile through your pain, and sorrow.
Smile and maybe tomorrow, you'll see the sun come shining
through, for you.
So light up your face with gladness.
Hide every trace of sadness.
Although a tear maybe ever so near.
That's the time when you keep on trying.
Smile what's the use of crying.
You'll see that life is still worth while.
If you just smile."
It worked. She was asleep. Now everyone could rest. I lay there thinking. Why was she so inconsolable. My milk hadn't come in yet. She was hungry. I know that it takes about forty-eight hours for most women to get their milk, and I know that all the books say that the baby isn't hungry until then, but I heard my baby crying, and that was one very painful cry. She was hungry. Then in the quiet I had an epiphany. Yes, I had called the nurses every time I had tried to breast feed, and yes, they had come into the room, and told me everything was alright, but I knew it wasn't. I knew it was seriously much too painful, and nothing was the way the books had said it would be. Yes, the nurses had looked, but they had not really stayed long enough to see what I was talking about. I had to appeal to a higher authority, and I had to do it quickly. As soon as quiet time was over. I was going to call the lactation consultant. She would be going home at five. My mind had been so cluttered that I had forgotten about her existence.
I took a little nap, and soon I heard voices in the hall. The visitors had been allowed to come back. My visitors were not there yet, and I thought I might have time to get help before they got back. This would be great, because it was something I would rather take care of in private. I called the nurses station, and asked them to send the lactation consultant. The the person I was talking to had no doubt helped me, because she said,"Are you sure? Because you already saw her yesterday, and she is very busy. I think you just need some more time to practice, and we would be happy to help you." I said no. We had already tried it that way, and I knew that things were not working they way they should, and they were not helping me. She said that the lactation consultant would be there as soon as she could.
In the mean time I met with a pediatrician who took the baby for some testing. When they brought her back the doctor stayed to tell me how she was doing. Everything seemed to be just fine, but she was slightly jaundiced, probably because my milk hadn't come in yet. I really liked this doctor, and asked if he was taking on new patients. He said that he was. He also said that most people saw his nurse practitioner, or physicians assistant, unless there was a real health problem. after he left I called and set up a well child visit with his nurse practitioner.
Soon my guests came back, and I was still waiting for the lactation consultant, and it was just my luck that she didn't come until I had a room full of people.
She was a large, loud woman, and when she entered the room she announced that all men needed to find something else to do because,"We have a little mama who needs help, and the breasts are coming out." Wow, right to the point. She said that she needed to check my breasts first. As she looked them over she had a very concerned look on her face. She said,"Oh Honey, you are really damaged. This isn't right at all!" Finally, I was right! But my happiness was short lived. She asked me, why I hadn't called the nursing staff for help. I lost it. Until this point I had had tears in my eyes on many occasions, but I only count it as crying if the tears spill out of my eyes, and this was a massive break down. I told her about all my troubles. I told her how I had called the nurses every time I tried to feed the baby. How I told them that it was much too painful. How they told me to toughen up, and rolled their eyes. She was shocked. She could not believe that anyone paying any attention at all would allow me to continue to put myself through this. She said that I was right to call her. She told me that the damage was so bad that if I was still interested in breast feeding I would have to use a breast guard until I was able to heal, and that I might have to wear it for the rest of my breast feeding life, because once introduced the baby and I would become reliant upon it.
She left to get one for me, and I was so embarrassed by the way I had broken down. My mother-in-law came over to the bed, and hugged me and said that she was so glad to see me cry. She had been worried that I hadn't done this yet. I said that I was always planning to cry, but just in the privacy of my own home, and I really didn't want to do it in front of a complete stranger.
In the hall I heard the lactation consultant talking to the nursing staff. It was very professional, but I knew that she was going to have words with them in private. Then she was back, and She helped me learn to use the breast guard. It worked! It was no longer painful, and I actually felt like I could do this, but I still didn't have any milk, and Bebe was getting very irritable. I asked it there was anything we could do she quickly brought her a supplement, and said that she would be much more agreeable if she had a two ounce supplement after each feeding until the milk came in. She told us that Bebe should drink it in five to ten minutes, and that if she didn't finish it in a half hour we would have to throw it away. She said that it really should be gone long before that. I started to feed her the bottle, and she wasn't very interested, and no she did not finish the bottle in thirty minutes. She was very sleepy, and only drank about half an ounce. I didn't know it at the time, but this was the beginning of a very ominous pattern.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Feeding Time

It was time for Bebe to see a pediatrician, so a nurses took her from me. I really didn't want to let her go all by herself, so I asked my husband if he would go with her. Yes, we were just a little paranoid about baby snatchers, and had made a vow before we ever entered the hospital. One of us would be with our daughter at all times. As they left the room, it was time for me to get moving. I didn't need any help getting to my feet, and was easily able to walk on slightly wobbly legs. I was able to get cleaned up a little, and then I got into a wheelchair, and was taken to a recovery room.
I have mentioned that the pain was minimal, and really it was. I had been offered pain medication on several occasions, and turned it down flat. I really didn't see the need for it.
As we turned the corner I could see my family at the far end of the hall. They were all standing around my little girl who was being given a bath by the pediatrician. As they wheeled me up the doctor told me that she was very healthy, very alert, and very beautiful. I was glad to hear it all. Then we entered my recovery room. I was surprised to see that it was light outside, and not just light, but it was getting close to dusk. Everyone was very eager to hold Bebe. In the birthing room only my husband, her grandmothers, and I had been given this privilege.
As I have said, my brother, and his wife drove about five hours, and had been waiting all day to see us. They both had to work the next day, so my brother was the first to hold her. As he took my daughter, his very first niece, into his arms his eyes welled up with tears. Before having Bebe I always thought that brand new babies looked a little like aliens, and my brother has always known this to be one of my opinions. He said, "She is so beautiful. Do you think she looks like an alien?" I said no, and since having my own child I see that beautiful innocence in all babies. Being a mother changes everything.
As my brother, and his wife held Bebe I could see it in their eyes, they were both goners. I knew it wouldn't be too long before they had a little one of their own.
After holding the baby everyone started to leave. My husband was staying with us, but he walked everyone out to their cars, and thanked them for being there.
While he did this I got a snack and a big jug of water, and settled in for another feeding. This time Bebe and I were on our own. She was eager to latch on, but something was wrong. This time it was incredibly painful. We tried again, and again, and again, but it just wasn't right. I won't go into tall the gory details, but everything about the way she was latching on was wrong.
I decided to call a nurse before I did any real damage. When she came into my room I sensed that I might have problems as she said,"What do you need now?" What did she mean? I hadn't called her before. I shook it off and proceeded to ask for help. I explained that I didn't think that my daughter was latching on properly, and I needed help. She watched as I attempted to latch her on. Again she latched on, but in a very painful way. The nurse said,"So what is the problem?" I said that she wasn't latched on properly because I was in so much pain. She then said,"Well Sweat heart, I'm afraid I have bad news, She is latched on properly, and if you want to breast feed her you are just going to have to toughen up."
What I thought: Toughen up! Really! I just went through 30 hours of back labor, the last six in complete silence, including a completely silent birth, and you are telling me to toughen up!
What I said: Really, because in the books I have read it says that it will be uncomfortable, but not painful, and look, when I break the suction the area looks pinched, and flat not round, and elongated.
She looked, but she already had her mind made up that I was a huge baby, or maybe she just didn't know anything about breast feeding. She said,"It looks fine to me. It's time to toughen up." Then she began to leave the room. I stopped her. I thought she must be right. I thought she must know what she was talking about so I decided to push through, and take her advice, but if breast feeding was going to be this painful I was going to need some pain medication. I asked the nurse to bring me some. She rolled her eyes, and said,"You can't have any, because they gave you some right before you left your birthing room. You have to wait eight hours." Now I was getting angry. I tried to remain as polite as possible. I said, "No, they tried to give me pain medication before I left the birthing room. I turned it down, because I didn't need it. If breast feeding is going to be this painful I want the medication." She rolled her eyes again, and said she would check into it. She came back about five minutes later with the medication, and her attitude was even worse. If anyone had the right to be snotty it was me! I was right she was wrong! As she was leaving the room she turned and said, I want you to look at the clock on the wall, because it will be eight hours before you can have any more pain medication." I was stunned by the way she was acting.
Through the night the feedings continued, each more terribly painful than the one before. Each time I called for help. I didn't always get Nurse Snotty, but everyone assured me that my baby was latched on properly in spite of my complaints. I tried to explain that this pain was much worse than any other pain I had ever had. It was worse that all the hours of back labor, it was worse than actually giving birth. It was in fact the most terrible pain I had ever experienced, and I couldn't get anyone to believe me.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

My Father

Soon I heard voices in the hall. Everyone was coming back. I woke up. A nurse entered the room and said it was time to move to recovery, and she began making the necessary preparations. I now had feeling in my legs, and was surprised that the pain really wasn't bad. I thought it would be terrible once the epidural was gone, but it really wasn't bad at all. It was slightly uncomfortable. I count myself very lucky. I didn't need any stitches at all. Thank you prenatal yoga!
Now this goes a little off subject for a moment, but I feel like I need to mention this part before I can continue with the story. A few years ago, my father was very sick. He was driving from my parents home to the doctor. The dive was about thirty minutes. He was in terrible pain. So much, in fact, that he passed out while driving, and lost control of his truck. It flipped end over end about three times, and landed on the other side of the highway.
My mother had been visiting my brother and me. We lived about four hours from our hometown. She was headed home that same day. She was planning to meet my father at the doctors office. She left my home at about 7:00 A.M. I got ready for the day and headed to my 8:30 A.M. history class. When I returned to my house at about 10:30 A.M. the phone was ringing. I had a terrible sinking feeling in my stomach, like I had just swallowed a bolder. A voice inside me told me to prepare myself. This was bad news. I thought it would be my mother telling me that the doctor had said that my dad only had a few months to live. I knew his health was rapidly declining, and he didn't have much longer on this earth, but you always think that maybe it wont be that serious, or maybe the doctors can help to prolong his life. Anyway, I took a deep breath, and answered the phone, prepared for the inevitable bad news. My uncle was on the other end of the phone. Now I was really panicking. He very calmly said that my father had been in a car accident. He said he was fine. He had a few broken ribs, but he was going to be fine. He said that the only problem was that they couldn't find my mother. I told him that she was waiting for my dad at the doctors office thirty minutes from home. I gave him her cell phone number, and hung up the phone. I started trying to call my mother, but I only had a few minutes before I needed to go to my chemistry lab, and violin lesson. I think I was in shock, because it just seemed like life was the only thing stopping me from sitting down and crying, or jumping in my car, and speeding home as fast as I could. Instead I just went on with my day as I normally would. I put a load of laundry in the washer, and tried to eat. I was preparing to leave when one of my cousins called, and told me about the wreck, and said that everyone was trying to get my mother on the phone but no one could. Then she said that another one of my cousins just got her on the phone. I said that I would be in class for a few hours. Then I would see if my brother was still in town, and if he didn't have to work I would see if he wanted to ride home with me. I called my husband to let him know what was going on, and I was out the door.
I was admittedly a little distracted in class, and my violin lesson went by very slowly, as I very mechanically played my scales exercises. I was working on Vivaldi's Four Seasons Spring, but it sounded more like a deep long dragging winter covered in molasses.
As I was leaving my lesson I saw my brother. He was just finishing his classes for the day. I walked quickly to him and called his name. He stopped, and was shocked by the look on my face. He asked me what was wrong. I was thinking that he was handling things much better than I was. He then asked me if our mom had left my house yet. I thought this was a very strange question, but I answered anyway. He said that he was going to call her to see how my dad's appointment went as soon as he got home. It finally sunk in. He didn't know about the accident yet. Of course he didn't. He had been in class all day. I didn't want to tell him, but I knew I had to. It took everything I had to get through the story without breaking down. He began to get upset. He wondered why I hadn't called him as soon as I heard. I explained and asked if he would be interested in driving home with me. I had planned to go out and then come back the next day. He said that he would drive, and he would meet me at my apartment in 30 minutes. I rushed home, and packed a bag, then I emailed my professors to let them know that if I wasn't in class there was a reason.
As we were driving home we talked about a lot of different things, but it always came back to our dad. My Brother kept asking me if our dad was going to be alright. Now this may seem completely awful, I know he was just looking for reassurance, but I felt I had to tell the truth. I said that everyone I had talked to seemed optimistic, but I was of a different opinion.
This may seem silly, but I had a premonition as I was looking through my Frank Sinatra song book a few weeks prior to the accident. I was sitting on my cedar chest in my bedroom, and I was doing some sight singing. I came to a song that I hadn't heard before, which is strange because it is one of his most famous songs. I decided to read through it. As I was singing it tears began to stream down my face, and I had the impression that I would be singing this song in the not too distant future. I knew I would be singing it for my father's funeral.
I didn't tell my brother this. I told him that every one said he was fine, with just a few broken ribs. Then I told him that due to our father's poor health before the accident. I was preparing myself for the worst. He saw this as pessimistic. I laughed, as I thought of one of our father's more memorable quotes, and said,"I'm not an optimist, or a pessimist. I'm a realist." We both laughed, and then we cried.
We arrived at the hospital before we were ready. I hated walking in, and was very glad that I wasn't alone. We found my father's room, and reunited with our mother, who had left my home earlier that day, in what seemed like a much simpler time. My father looked surprisingly good considering the day he had lived through. He was awake, and in a good mood. My brother walked over and gave him a gentle hug, as he began to cry. Next I walked over. My father said,"It must be my lucky day! I get a hug from my favorite cold hearted girl!" I laughed, and teased,"Dad, you know I'm hard hearted, not cold hearted, there is a big difference!" My heart was about to be permanently softened. This is one of the last things I would ever say to my father.
Soon my father needed his rest, and my brother and I hadn't eaten in a very long time. My mother walked us out to the car, and as we were walking she said that when they did the ex rays, they found a mass in my father's lungs. They didn't know what it was, but it didn't look good. They couldn't do any tests until he was stronger.
My brother and I went to visit our father a few more times before we had to go back, and I was always surprised by the number of people there to see him. We went home and tried our best to resume our lives. Things seem blurry, like I was sleep walking through my life.
One day my mother called with more bad news, my father had developed pneumonia in both lungs, and he was in ICU. He didn't like all the machines he was hooked up to and he kept ripping off the different tube. a few hours passed, maybe a day, and my mother called to say that he was in a coma. I don't remember for sure, but it seems like the coma was induced to treat him. I might be way off on that.
My brother and I decided that he better get home. There were problems. I had two exams the next day, and a group project was going to be started. I had to speak with my professors, and schedule make up exams for a later date. I was excused from the group project.
This time my husband was with us. We couldn't all go into the room at the same time, so we each took a few moments to talk to him. It seamed futile to me, but I told him I loved him anyway. Then I just stood there silently holding his hand for a few minutes while I cried. Then it was time to go.
We again returned to our lives, work, school, but not for long. There was hope when he was released from ICU. This hope was short lived. On an evening in early October it was either the fifth, or the sixth our mother called, and told us that my father was preparing to exit this mortal life, and we needed to get home right away. It was dark when we left, and it seemed like the journey would never come to and end. The traffic was terrible, and progress was slow. When we were about thirty minutes from the hospital my brother got a flat tire on his new car, and he and my husband couldn't figure out how to change it. While they were looking the clock was ticking, and it was getting close to midnight. My brothers phone began to ring, and I couldn't find it, but I knew what was happening. We got moving again, and as we were entering a small town a few minutes from the hospital phones began to ring again. Our father passed away a few minutes before or after midnight. My brother blamed himself for not making it in time to say goodbye, but I thought we had been granted mercy. We didn't have to witness the death of our father.
When we finally arrived at the hospital my fathers room was filled with friends and family. The room was dark, and we spent a few minutes saying goodbye. Then we left the hospital, and headed right back the way we had come. My make up exam was scheduled for seven in the morning, and we had to get clothes. We would be staying with my mother for almost a week.
A few days later we had the funeral. I spoke a few words about my father and sang the song that I had been prompted to sing, "My Way". I wasn't the only one who thought that the song was so much like my father. One of his closest friends told my mother that he knew the perfect song for my father. He was surprised when my mother told him that was the very song I had chosen to sing.
My father was amazing. He loved to talk, and debate(argue). It was always difficult to say goodbye to him, because he always had one more story to tell, or one more argument to make. He was kind with a rough exterior. He loved children, and animals. He never told me things like,"Wash that makeup off!" or, "You aren't leaving the house dressed in that!" He would always tell me,"If you've got it, flaunt it,and Babes you've got it!" Then he would laugh and hug me. Wow, I miss him!
While I was pregnant I missed him a lot. I always wished that he would be able to meet my child. I thought about him a lot, and on my harder days, I would hear his voice in my head telling me I still had,"It" Then I would look in the mirror and laugh myself silly.
As they were preparing to move us to recovery my husband, and my in-laws returned from dinner. My father-in-law sat down by my bed, and said, Kaysie, I think I know why it took Bebe so long to get here. She was sitting up in heaven talking to her grandpa, and he had lots of last minute advice about how to handle her mama. Do you know what I think he said right before he let her go? He said,'Always remember, If you've got it, flaunt it, and Babes, you've got it!" I laughed and felt hot copper tears welling in my eyes, because I knew he was right.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Learning to Share

I really didn't feel like sharing my baby with anyone. I'm not even sure how long I greedily held her. Suddenly my mother-in-law asked my husband how he was doing. Until this point he had remained silent. He answered, and the baby opened her eyes wide, and looked him straight in the eye. People say that is impossible, but having witnessed it I disagree. It was like she had been searching for him.
I knew it was time to share her with the other person who helped create her. The man who made sure I was well cared for. The man who suffered sympathy morning sickness with me. The man who had gained a few pounds of baby weight, just so that I would feel better. The man who never complained when I wanted my monthly corn dog, and the only place to get them was a thirty minute drive from our house. The man who would take me to a drive-in two towns over at midnight so that I could get a banana split. The man who had suffered every inconvenience right along with me. He had done his time. He deserved a big reward for his efforts. I relinquished Bebe to a nurse who weighed, measured, and cleaned her up. They wrapped her in a blanket, and put her hat on her head. Bebe swaddeled, with her huge eyes and little hat reminded me of a catapiller which earned her the nickname of Bug. They handed Bebe to the outstretched arms of her loving father. It was like watching a long awaited reunion. Soon everyone came into the room to meet Miss Bebe. My doctor said that she was surprised by how big Bebe was. She said that she never expected me to have a baby weighing over six pounds, and Bebe had shattered her expectations at a whopping seven pounds, and ten ounces. This excitement over her large size was very short lived. I mention it because my little one was not always off the charts small. There was a time when her size was perfectly average.
Then the doctor call the lactation nurse into the room, and everyone started going their separate ways. My Aunt, and uncle headed back home, and my mother, brother, and sister-in-law went to our house to get cleaned up, and find something to eat. My mother-in-law, and father-in-law stepped out of the room to call my husband's siblings.
I thought I was prepared to breast feed. I thought it would be easy. I thought the worst pain was over. I was wrong again. We had a very difficult time getting Bebe to latch on. Once latched on I didn't know how to get her off. There was no problem, because the lactation nurse knew exactly how to help me. I still hadn't registered what was going on. So the room was filled with nervous laughter.
The first feeding took place at about 4:30 P.M. So all you mamas know my feeding schedule. Bebe was supposed to eat every two hours.
Now it was time for my feeding. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since any of us had eaten. My mother-in-law held Bebe while I devoured an enormous plate of spaghetti accompanied by a salad, garlic bread, and apple juice. I didn't even know I was hungry! Yes, it was hospital food, but at that point I felt like I was dining at a gourmet restaurant except for the unfortunate hospital decor.
After eating my husbands parents dragged him away for dinner. On their way out they turned the lights down. Suddenly I realized that I could feel a fuzzy tingling in my feet. It was so quiet. No doctors, no nurses, no one but me and sweet little Bebe. Soon she drifted off to sleep. I reluctantly put her in the bassinet, and wheeled it as close to me as I could. I held her little balled up hand in mine, and allowed sleep to take me.