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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.