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.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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