Who am I?

So, a friend posted this on FB and it's designed to be a photo challenge but I'm a rebel, so I decided to attempt to use this as my Lenten discipline. Writing on each of the prompts--as if I don't have enough writing to do. (HA!) But it's also an attempt to contain my on-line time that disappears into the abyss and turn it into something productive.

So today--who am I?

There could be so many answers--especially on this Ash Wednesday, some of which I mention in my sermon for tonight. But somehow, the only one that bubbles to the surface today is mom or more accurately, mama (specifically in Precious'/Thing 2's voice).

When Baby Girl/Thing 1 was small, the law in our state and the recommendation was rear-facing in the car until age 1 and 22 pounds. About a week after her first birthday, I had to travel a long way (6 hours if I recall correctly) with her by myself. In the van, I had her rear-facing carrier seat and her new front-facing seat. I put her rear-facing when I thought and hoped she'd nap and front-facing for the rest so she could see the DVD player. When we got home after that trip, we took out the rear-facing seat. She's been in the other seat since (now using the regular seat belt, not the five point harness) but still.

Now that Precious/Thing 2 is small, the law in our state is still rear-facing until age 1 and 22 pounds, but the recommendation is rear-facing until 2. She's still rear-facing in my car. But in hubby's, we've turned the seat. It's just too hard for the front seat passengers to fit her seat in rear-facing. And, she rarely rides in his car anyhow.

Just a few days ago, I was buckling her in his car and realized that though I complain about getting her in the rear-facing seat (she's getting tall and scrunched, it's so high in my van, etc.), I'm not ready to turn her around. It feels like it will be the last thing that marks the end of her being my baby. Which isn't true of course...I'm my mom's baby as she tells both my girls. But...my baby is growing up. She's solidly toddler. She's independent, oh so independent. She wants to do so much on her own.

AND, she's my baby. She loves her 'babies' (dolls) and any real-life baby. She gets frustrated when she can't take them out of books or photos. We have a number of picture books with Mary holding baby Jesus. And reading them goes something like this. "Where's the baby?" She points. "Yes, that's baby Jesus. Where's his mama?" She points to Mary. "Where's your mama?" She taps her index finger on my chest. "Where's my baby?" She taps her index finger on her chest. "Are you my baby?" She nods solemnly, slowly, deliberately and snuggles into me with a smile.

Yes, she is my baby and I'm her mama.

Done

Yesterday, at age 16 months (and 1 day), Precious had her very last breastmilk. I stopped pumping at the end of July. My goal was to get her through surgery recovery with mostly fresh breastmilk. After that, we used my frozen stash. I'm happy she got my milk that long and that she seems to like (and tolerate well) cow's milk.

We are done with babies, barring a miracle (aka a failed vasectomy). And that's okay--good even. I held a tiny baby, 5 or 6 weeks old, at a wedding reception recently and I realized that I didn't even feel the slightest twinge of desire to have another baby. I didn't want to be pregnant; I didn't want to give birth; I didn't want to care for another newborn or raise another child.

But...

First, full disclosure, I judge. When I see a baby with a bottle and his/her mother right there, I think, "Oh, it's too bad they aren't breastfeeding. Formula's not the best choice." And then--since Precious--my second thought, "Oh, it could be breastmilk." Ultimately, I know formula's not evil and everyone has to do what is right for them; I don't know the whole story in most cases. I loved, loved, loved breastfeeding and want others to have that same love that I did. And I know not everyone does, so whatever. Do what you need to do.

That said, as I held this baby and fed him his bottle (formula--I watched the parents mix it), he kept turning his little head and nuzzling me, my breast in particular. And I thought, "oh, just to have a baby nurse again...just to snuggle one more baby to my breast and nourish them with this gift...to do something I'm good at and don't have to work to be good at...to be something I am--a nursing mother." And I suppose, with enough hours tied to a pump, I could produce milk again. (I had to check that night--when I squeeze, droplets of milk still come.) But Precious still isn't allowed to try to make suction until at least December. By then, she won't remember how to nurse. She hasn't had anything to suck since June the way it is. And so I'm done.

And it's going to have to be okay.

Hope

Being a mother changes my perspective on a lot of things. I used to hope for much bigger things. I guess I still do. I do, however, use the word "hope" a lot more frequently without grandiose desires.

Take, for example, last night. It was a three committee meeting night at our congregation. Which means I was in meetings starting at 5, 5:45, and 6:30 (and made it to all three close to on time!) It's a crazy night--tonight is a close second with meetings at 5:30 and 6:30. Those are crazy times, but instead of five weeknights away from home, it's two--so a trade off I'm willing to take. But last night, the last meeting went a long time--thankfully with great conversation that was valuable. When I locked the door at 8:10; I sighed. And thought, "Okay, Precious will be asleep in bed. I HOPE Baby Girl will be ready for stories and sleep."

Yeah--maybe my hopes are too grandiose! Both were wide awake, wired, wound and playing. Ugh. Thankfully, they did settle down easier than I thought. Precious a bit more loudly, but both were asleep by just after 9.

Now for more grandiose hopes! I hope Precious is on her way to potty training! In the last week, she has expressed adamant desire to use the potty. Sunday morning and this morning, she pooped on the potty. (She's pretty consistent in time with the first poop of the day, so I wasn't super surprised. I was surprised by how she refused to let me take her off the potty before she pooped on Sunday. She sat a long time--for the always on the go girl!!) And, she peed in the potty twice two--once by expressing desire to sit and once when I just set her on. She's been tending to wake up dry from a nap but then wetting just a few minutes later, so one day when she woke up dry, I put her on the potty and, sure enough, pee came quickly.

I hope she will be using the potty consistently soon-ish. She's only 15 months, so I'm not expecting a whole lot. But I'm hopeful Precious will make it easier on us than Baby Girl did!

*My* Incredible Hulk

Precious is a tough cookie--she has been from birth. She rolled over just shy of 6 weeks old. She lost very little (relatively) weight after birth before the diagnosis of her cleft palate. And just last week, when I was at an evening meeting, I got a text from Hubby. There was a picture of Precious looking rather serious and these words, "Surgery--no problem! Just took on a mouse trap. No tears here." Apparently, she snapped the trap on her fingers and then just looked up at Hubby like, "Um...what was that and what are you going to do about it?" Seriously--no tears, no crying, nothing. Granted it was an old wimpy trap, but still!

Surgery day was Tuesday, June 12. We woke her up at 5 a.m. to give her her morning milk (earlier than usual wake-up--but within bounds of time for surgery). Got ready to leave shortly thereafter. On car ride there, gave her 2 oz of apple juice (again, last she could have pre-surgery). I wanted to be sure she got every ounce possible prior to surgery!

We were a bit early and she was making friends with registration desk ladies, and everyone who came in. Smiling and walking around, in just general good spirits--maybe even smilier than usual when it comes to strangers.

Then they took us back for pre-surgery. We had to wipe her down with an antiseptic cloth--at least it was warm--and dress her in a gown. She wasn't sure about the nurse trying to take her vitals, but he did a really fine job. Then the anesthesiologist came in and asked about how we thought she'd go with a stranger. We said that we didn't think very well. She suggested 'silly juice' to help her relax, but that if need be, one of us could go with until they mask sedated her. We agreed with giving her 'silly juice.' It didn't take her long and she was really relaxed! She went in the doctor's arms--just looked at me like, 'huh?' but not in tears. And I did fine...it's actually almost harder to write about today than it was then.

9 a.m. surgery. We just got settled in the waiting room and a friend of mine came and sat with us. It was so good to visit with her and be distracted. Hubby's parents came shortly after she left. 10:30 a.m. we got first report that she was doing fine. I played and chatted on-line with my sister. Friend left for a time and came back--we took a quick walk. I was really calm. I had asked lots of people to pray for us, and I know they were. We got word at 12:30 or so that the surgeon was ready to see us.

Her report was good. They had a surgery plan A and plan B and had to go with plan B which only slightly increases the chance for a second surgery (from 20% to 35%). She said Precious did great--stable BP, heart rate, etc. for the whole surgery. They would let us back to recovery as soon as they could. The surgeon commented on my 'calm countenance.' I said that we had lots of people praying for us. And hubby commented that now the hard part for us started--getting her to eat, keeping her out of pain, etc. The surgeon had done her hard part.

It was about 1 p.m. when we got to go back. Precious was crying and wailing and swinging her clubs around. (With her arms in splints, they are club-like!) I felt myself reaching to her when I was barely close. It was a bit hard to get a good hold of her as she was hooked up to an iv and also a pulse-ox machine as well as a blood pressure cuff. But I talked to her and barely opening her eyes, she snuggled into me and all was well. They took the crib away and gave me a wheelchair to sit in while we waited for her room to be ready. She was doing great!

We got to her room around 2 and settled in. We spent the night taking turns holding her and going to get lunch and supper. We got a few ounces of milk in her pretty quickly. By 8 p.m. she had had about 3 ounces. Which, considering she spent 3 1/2 hours with her mouth held open and only God and the surgeon knows how many stitches put in (we forgot to ask!) we figure she was in quite a bit of pain. We did keep waking her up round the clock for pain meds. By early the next morning, they were able to remove the iv. Based on input and output (yes--they weighed diapers!), she was holding her own. At that point, all they could do for her was pain meds--and that we could do at home. So, after just one night in the hospital, we came home.

Now--it's just about 10 days later and she's doing great. She really has been doing great since the beginning. Hubby was right, "Surgery, no problem!" The first week, we kept up the heavy duty pain meds around the clock. We are gradually switching now to ibuprofen and waking her up less for meds. She currently sleeps in our bed with us as it's hard to roll over with the clubs. It took a while, but she's eating (or rather drinking) a pretty decent amount. She takes the medicine (pain meds and antibiotics) like a champ--often better than food. She doesn't seem to mind the splints much--and fights us more when we are trying to take them off than put them on. We take them off a few times a day but must hover, hover, hover to prevent anything from going in her mouth. She smiles and giggles maybe even more than before. She is babbling and babbling and we hear new sounds all the time. At first, it was odd--my baby sounded so different. But it's all good. We see the surgeon again in a few weeks.

She's just incredible! We are very blessed. And as for being an Incredible Hulk, the little baby hospital gown was like an adult's--snaps down the back but mostly handing open and snaps at each shoulder. The morning before she was sprung from the hospital, she was playing in the crib (with the side open and me standing there) but she tried to pull up on the rails, but got her knees caught on the gown and one arm snapped open. I giggled a bit and she tried again and the other arm popped. What can I say, she's *my* incredible hulk!

Tomorrow

So much to do before tomorrow...but I have to write first.

Tomorrow is the day that my baby, Precious, has her surgery to repair her cleft palate. Surgery is scheduled to take around 3 1/2 hours sometime in the morning. (We'll get the exact time later today.) It's hard to believe that this time has come even though we've known for around a year that it would be. I am feeling better about the actual surgery, though I'm pretty sure I'll be a wreck during it. Baby Girl will be with my mom starting tonight until we get home. One night hospitalized for sure, possibly two, depending on how she's handling pain and eating--or rather drinking. The next three weeks may be tough--only open cup drinking and all food must also fit that criteria. Splints on her arms so she can't bend her elbows and get anything in her mouth. We'll do everything we can--currently, she'll have a 20% chance of needing a second surgery. If we do everything right, hopefully she'll be in the 80%.

Details are left--cleaning up the disaster called my house, packing Baby Girl's bag for Grandma's, packing our stuff for the hospital. Not sure what we need to take--diapers for example? Ah, well, guess we'll take it all. Daddy can go the store if need be I suppose; I don't plan to leave.

Please pray for us...prayers for Precious as she handles surgery and recovery, prayers for her doctor who will work so meticulously to do all she can to ensure not needing another surgery, prayers for Baby Girl as she has to deal with even more divided attention, prayers for us (me especially) as I turn my baby over to another for this.

Mama's Girl

I am upstairs in my house, futilely trying to write a sermon for tomorrow. Meanwhile, downstairs my baby (Precious) is screaming her head off. She's in Daddy's capable hands, but she wants Mommy. Which means I'm in this position I hate--balancing mommyhood and ministry. It's not like I was overly busy in the office this week--this sermon just won't come! And so now my whole family suffers. Precious is unhappy. Daddy is unhappy because he can't do the stuff he wants to do on his day off (never mind all the stuff that I do around the house too). Baby Girl is watching too much tv because that is Daddy's method of keeping both girls occupied. Precious doesn't watch tv even when it's on--just not interested. But then he doesn't have to occupy two. And I have a hard time writing because my baby is crying and it is the most distracting sound in the world. And I'm reminded of how often I'm failing at trying to do it all. I've given up trying to do it all--but I need to get a little more done than I am every day.

Sigh.

Precious is quiet now--guess I should try again to make this sermon come!

285

Today, I met my goal. 285 ounces of my milk donated to the milk bank. Milk that will help NICU babies and others for whom it is prescribed by their doctors. I've been pumping exclusively for Precious for the last 8 months or so ~ she'll be 10 months old on Sunday. Pumping is getting tiring and (TMI warning...) I've been starting to get painful bleeding cracks. It's time to slow down.

So, I've made goals.
1. 285 ounces donated to milk bank. (This was 3 trips with a certain cooler I have full each time--that's the significance of the amount!)

2. Precious gets MOSTLY fresh (as in within the same 24 hours) milk until her first birthday. Right now, I'm pumping twice a day, morning and night. She gets all that milk, plus about 4 ounces of my frozen milk.

3. After her birthday, I may think of cutting back to one pumping session a day. It'll depend on what is still in the freezer. I'm going to hold off on cow's milk until a bit later--14-15 months or so. I don't think she'll have a problem with it, but as her surgery is at 13 months I don't want to risk anything complicating having surgery. And, I won't be adding something new when she's recovering.

So, first goal met. It makes me a bit sad that the number isn't bigger for donating, but I'm doing the best I can is so many areas. And this is something good after all.

Which is Easier?

Yesterday I went to a newly forming mom's group. Baby Girl was the oldest child there though one mom also has an older child too along with the toddler that joined her. That mom and I were the only two there with more than one child. I don't know if she was asked--and honestly we all were kind of talking over one another and there was lots of child noise--but the question was asked if it was easier to go to 2 children from 1 or having the first child. At the moment, I said that too many other changes were happening in our lives to make a true comparison--that I think it'd have been easier to add children than it was to become a first-time mom. (Which is what the person asking the question thought.)

But after today, I don't think so. Today, Baby Girl went with hubby to his parent's and will come home tomorrow. Which means it was just me and Precious. This is the first day it's been just the two of us in a very long time. And it was really good in a lot of ways. I snuggled her and read her books. I wasn't constantly having to redirect her from whatever it was Baby Girl was doing that couldn't really be played with by her. I didn't have to share my attention with a 3 1/2 year old. When she napped (a marathon nap! for her--2+ hours), I could do laundry and get more things done than I can when Baby Girl is around. When she had a meltdown, I could deal with it more calmly because Baby Girl wasn't making it worse.

Yes, I'm not quite as nervous or panicky about some things. But when I baby-proofed for Baby Girl, it was done. Now, I try--but Baby Girl does have toys that are too small and I try really hard to keep them in the other room, but she doesn't quite get that fully yet and so they make their way back at times. Baby Girl also has things that are 'safe' but she doesn't want Precious to get into. (And I don't really want Precious sharing sippy cups--no need to share germs! Baby Girl is forever leaving hers in reach of Precious.) My store of patience wasn't multiplied when I had another child and I'm afraid that it gets used up more quickly than it could or should. I don't know if that's just because Baby Girl is 3 1/2 and testing limits or if I'm just not patient enough.

I don't know that one or the other is easier. It's just different. And--life feels hard right now most days. I think it's more a function of working full-time (only mom in the group doing that, 1 other works part-time) in my particular vocation and Hubby's schedule. And my pumping schedule--I can't go to bed early and I can't sleep in. (Sometimes I do get to go back to sleep in the morning and I have had a nap or two after the girls are down and before pumping, but not usually.)

Time flies and they grow so fast. As I snuggled Precious today, I don't want her to grow faster. But I want things to change--I want to give her more undivided attention. I think I tend to put Baby Girl first because I feel Precious won't remember as much.

No matter what, it's never easier. Being a mommy is a hard job. Hopefully this group will help us all do it better.

Update

We saw the specialist for Precious on Monday. She has fluid in her ears which necessitates tubes (not unusual for a baby with a cleft--or lots of kids). They did a hearing test and there is some minor hearing loss. But this came with a dilemma--do tubes now or wait until the major surgery. Doing tubes is a pretty common procedure, but does require anesthesia. Hubby was all for tubes--both his older kids had multiple sets and it's no big deal for him. It's really only a few minutes. I said, "but it's my baby..." AND, Precious hasn't had an ear infection and doesn't seem bothered by her ears at all. Our specialist said that if she felt strongly that something was right, she would push us hard. In this case, she said, there's not a clear right or wrong. While we were doing the hearing test (and thinking about what to do), she said she asked all her colleagues who were in that day their opinion and it was evenly divided. "You are good parents, no matter what you choose," she told us. And, she also told us that as Precious is growing so well, that if we want to do surgery earlier we can--do both at once then. Hubby asked about whether the ears would get worse if we wait; the answer is no. I asked, "If it was your child, what would you do?" Without a second's hesitation, she said she would wait. So that's what we will do. Her response pushed me over the edge to the waiting side.

Precious is scheduled for her 3 1/2 hour (!) surgery on June 12. If she has ear infections or seems bothered by her ears or we notice significant hearing loss before then, we can reschedule and do things earlier. So...now we know...and I'm starting to worry. They are going to put my baby under for 3 1/2 hours! So I'm trying not to think about it too much. Easier said than done. I never forget that she has a cleft palate, but I had gotten so it wasn't all-consuming. It's back to all-consuming, which I don't have time for. I have so much to do; I can't do it all; and I'm so overwhelmed that I'm not functioning on all cylinders. I lack motivation and I'm tired. I just want to stay home and snuggle with Precious (and Baby Girl)--neither of whom would be content to snuggle all day, but there you have it.

Don't Stress About It

Says hubby at noon. So very unhelpful...

Baby Girl won't admit to wanting to nap, but doesn't want to stay alone watching tv.

Precious doesn't want to be put down, period. And screams if we are in bedroom with Baby Girl.

Hubby is working outside because he wants to get further on shed and has help today.

But, I have to write a sermon. The other stuff that should get done -- laundry, bills, filing, watering plants can wait. But I need to write this sermon and have nothing...nothing...

Yesterday sucked--I wanted to scratch the last post and say I'm not even feeling like a good mommy because Baby Girl was pushing every button.

I'm so frustrated with life at the moment...

Maybe it is post-partum depression. I just don't know what to do about it....because medicine won't give me more hours in a day or a family who does more than they do...

posted one-handed holding precious in room next to Baby Girl who hasn't noticed I'm gone...here's hoping she went to sleep...might be able to sermonize!

Heartbreak........Tempered

Precious will be five months old next week. It's been about four months since the diagnosis of her cleft palate. It's been about three months since she really nursed at all.

That breaks my heart.

We gave it a valiant effort. But she knows that is where the milk is supposed to come from and got so frustrated when it didn't. And she had to start having bottles without nursing anyhow when I was at work. I admit, I was clinging to trying to nurse even some of the time, hoping that after her surgery, she'd want to try again--even just once a day. Baby Girl nursed until 15 months, the last month or so just once a day.

My letdown is still quick for the pump, but my body is trained for the times I pump and doesn't let down for her as quickly as it did before even when it's close to a time to pump.

Occasionally, though not often, I'll try again. And I swear, if a baby can look up at you like, "Okay, mom...I'm indulging you here," Precious does. But then she gets frustrated and cries--and then I start sobbing and my heart breaks again and again.

And so I've mostly given up trying. Because why should I put both of us through that?

The best I can do (for me, of course) is to pump for her. She is getting only my milk right now--and has been for almost 3 months. Formula's not evil, but I'm good at making milk. Why shouldn't I do this?

This post has been written in my head for sometime, but I could write it now because I could add..."Tempered."

A few things temper my feelings...
I'm pumping more than Precious needs--I've donated nearly 200 ounces to a milk bank plus have nearly twice that much in the freezer for Precious. Hubby doesn't understand why I want to doante some milk. And I can't really explain it, but it makes me feel better about myself, about this not being able to nurse thing. I'm not only attached to the pump for Precious but for some other baby who maybe needs it even more.

And I know this is not the most heartbreaking thing in the world. Close to me, a woman who was so excited to welcome a new granddaughter within the month is full of grief. Her father did this spring, she was looking for some joy in her life. The baby was stillborn last week. To hear that breaks my heart for that family.

And Precious knows me. I know she did before, but it's obvious now. Yesterday afternoon I was at my mom's with the girls. I was trying to get some work done on the computer while Baby Girl napped. Precious was fussy and Mom was walking with her. I finished quickly as she continued to fuss. I walked over toward them, she leaned toward me, gave me a big smile and stopped fussing as soon as I took her. She knew I was there and wanted MY attention.

But I won't lie; my heart still breaks sometimes.

Visit(s) with the Specialist

Less than a week after the diagnosis, we headed with Precious to the nearby University Hospital to meet the specialist. We went again a month or so later, so the visits are blurry in my head. But they boil down to the same things!

I really, really like the specialist. She's young, with 3 children, the youngest of whom is only a few weeks older than Precious. She was empathetic to me--especially around the area of breastfeeding. She gets it--from both sides, the mommy desire to nurse but also the difficulty it is for babies with clefts.

She made it clear that she didn't want to discourage breastfeeding, but it is really so hard for babies. A normal feeding should never take longer than a 1/2 hour, otherwise Precious burns more calories than necessary for optimal growth. So, she said, if we want to keep breastfeeding by all means do so. BUT, if it takes, say 20 minutes to take a 4 oz. bottle, nurse for 10 minutes and then do the bottle. AND, when there are times it is clearly for comfort, let Precious nurse as much as she wants--if she's not hungry, she'll do what she needs to do and can control how much she is really working. How that's working out will be its own post....

We thought it was only the soft palate, but she indicated that it also is the edge of the hard. Still, probably one of the least severe type of cleft.

Precious will need surgery for sure--at least one. This will be when she is 12-15 months old. That's the optimal time. Big enough to handle surgery well and young enough that most language isn't developed. Depending on how the surgery goes and how speech develops, she may need speech therapy and/or another surgery later down the line. By the time of the surgery, she will need to be weaned from any 'sucking' things--pacifiers, bottles, straws, etc. (She can still, of course, have breastmilk--just not from anything she needs to suck!) After the surgery, they don't want her sucking because it could rip the stitches out. And, for 3 weeks, we'll have to put her arms in splints at the elbow so they can't bend. No chance to get her hands in her mouth if she can't bend her arms! We think she'd be a pacifier baby if we let her, unlike Baby Girl who never liked one, but we aren't even going to introduce one. Precious does some sucking on her fingers, but often makes sucking sounds even without anything in her mouth. Can't do anything about that I guess!

The big goal was to get her up on the growth chart by the second visit with nutrition coming from formula or breastmilk or both. We did it! We did about 1/2 formula and 1/2 breastmilk for much of that time in order to bulk up calories as we knew how much the formula had. The doctor was pleased with her progress and said we might be able to consider surgery earlier, but we'll decide for sure at our next visit which is in January (unless we have concerns before then).

Precious will be more prone to ear infections and fluid build-up in the ears because they can't/won't drain right. But tubes for kids and ear infections aren't that unusual. I'm hopeful she will be like her sister though and not have many!

The specialist had also told our regular doctor that she was impressed with how little weight Precious had lost in that month pre-diagnosis. Precious had worked hard! And now we just treat her like a baby--do all the 'normal' things at the 'normal' times. She did warn us that solid food will be messy! Precious will have to learn how to use her tongue to force the food down the right way--and until she does, food will come out her nose. When she does spit up now (rare though it is), it comes out her nose. I'm glad she told me--I think I would have freaked out to see peas coming out her nose! And when you look at an image of how the body is made, it makes sense. The cleft opens up her sinuses so instead of food going down, it goes up.

All in all, things are good. It's good to know what's coming, to have time to prepare. And to not have concern about Precious' growth cloud every waking moment.

Answers

If you haven't read the last three or four posts--you might want to. It'll help explain a lot!

May 31 ~ Baby Girl's third birthday. Precious and I head to her doctor's appointment. The nurse who weighed her last week (and had me change the diaper) weighed her in. 6 lbs 14 oz. She asked what she weighed last week--6 lbs 14 oz to 7 lbs--depends on which weigh-in. Tears began to stream down my cheeks as I carried Precious to the exam room and waited for the doctor. We were trying so hard--how could she not be gaining weight?

The doctor came in and asked all the usual questions, washed her hands, and stuck her finger in Precious' mouth once again. Weak suck--we know. The doctor said, "I'm going to have to make her mad and get her mouth open really wide." And she did--and therein lied the answer.

A cleft palate--the soft palate in the back. Precious physically cannot make the suction she needs to effectively nurse (or even do well with the slow-flow nipples I have which Baby Girl used because that's what breastfed babies should use because they are most like breastfeeding). The doctor looked at me and I was crying--but relieved. She hugged me and apologized (numerous times) for not catching it sooner. Apparently it's really hard to see that far back unless the baby is really mad and she hates to make them mad--and also because the tongue takes up so much of the baby's mouth. The doctor felt so badly that it had been so hard on me and that it had been hard on Precious too. Precious had spent the first month of her life working so hard for every calorie she took in--she spent most of them trying to get the food in.

The doctor referred us to a specialist at nearby university hospital, one of the best in the region. That visit comes later. But now is the beginning of answers. Until we can get to the specialist, the plan is to nurse as we have been and then follow each feeding with an ounce of formula--in a new bottle--anything that Precious doesn't have to work so hard for. The doctor said 'get a bigger nipple.' Do you know how many options there are? I went to the store and looked bewildered in the bottle aisle. And randomly picked one because I had a sample of the bottle it fit at home, a sample I had gotten with Baby Girl and never used. As good a reason as any. The salesperson who tried to help me looked from me to Precious and said, "Are you sure the doctor really means for you to get a fast-flow nipple?" Yes--in fact she does; we don't want her to have to work so hard to eat.

We could look back and say, we should have known--I remember commenting that Precious doesn't have a uvula (that little hangy down thing in your throat). But I didn't say anthing--I thought maybe babies didn't have them at first. Well--that opening that I thought was missing the uvula and was the throat--that is Precious' palate--the uvula is split and that's where the cleft is. Her throat is farther back. But we aren't saying that--because there are too many blessings.

Blessing--I have LOTS of milk--supply is not an issue.
Blessing--I have an easy and quick let-down. Precious starts to cry and there is milk for her; she didn't have to suck and suck to get milk coming (though it was still hard).
Blessing--my mom lives in my town now and could be with Baby Girl when I spent hours and hours nursing Precious.
Blessing--we did have lots of nursing bonding time, even though that is now dwindling.
Blessing--this is not life-threatening (for me/us here and now--it could be in other places and certainly in past times)
Blessing--an excellent university hosptial only an hour away with specialists who deal with this all the time
Blessing--Precious is one tough girl; she's a fighter in a good way.
Blessing--a specialist that I really like upon first visit (for another post)
Blessing--answers.

Short Update

The week was better. Precious was still mellow, but waking up on her own every 3-4 hours to eat. She'd nurse 40 minutes to an hour sometimes; we had gone back to using the nipple shield all the time because it seemed to help. She still 'clucked' but it didn't seem as bad. She looked like she was filling out, growing more hair, and getting longer. She was definitely awake more, more alert when she was awake, and peeing and pooping appropriately.

At the doctor's appointment--7 lbs. No gain--no loss, but no gain. She was hungry so I nursed her and the doctor wanted to weigh her after that again. But she wet her diaper and the nurse had me change it--I tried to argue with her, but wasn't adamant enough. After eating (and the diaper change), her weight was 6 lbs 14 oz. The doctor said, "that can't be right..." And told the nurse we should have left the diaper on wet. The nurse did say I tried to tell her that.

The plan--come back next week. In the meantime, continue the 3 oz of supplementing. Pump after each feeding to empty my breasts and keep up supply.

It was still really tough--I shed plenty of tears. And tried not to feel like a bad mommy.

The next week, we had answers--that's for another post.

Kick Me While I'm Down

The weekend was mellow--too mellow. Precious slept a lot--way too much. We'd try to wake her up to eat. Seriously, we'd try everything--getting her naked, holding her, laying her down, trying to force her mouth open on my breast, using a bottle and squeezing milk into it. Eventually she'd wake up, but sometimes after 6 hours, at least 2 of which was spent trying to get her up. I knew she wasn't eating enough, but she wasn't complaining about it. And we certainly tried.

My mom kept saying, "Maybe she'll just be a bottle baby." Not helpful. I don't know if she was trying to make herself feel better or me. I know that she was disappointed that due to her health issues wasn't able to nurse my sister or me. I wasn't ready to hear that--it hurt too much. I love to nurse my babies...love, love, love it. I know it's not for everyone--and I'm not anti-formula. But I'm good at breastfeeding. Baby Girl was weaned at 15 months; early on in this pregnancy, when I was still not thrilled about being pregnant, my thoughts were that at least I'd be able to nurse again. I had even decided that I'd try to nurse even longer, not be so quick to wean. (Because Baby Girl's weaning was on my timetable, not hers--though she didn't object at all.) I wanted a breastfed baby; I wanted it for Precious AND for me. I admit it; I wanted it for me. I didn't mind not sharing feeding time with anyone else. That was my special thing--the thing only Mommy can do.

Monday at the doctor, Precious weighed....7 lbs. No weight gain at all, none. Now I realize the doctor hid her worry well, but said she wanted another blood test to check thyroid levels and for signs of infection. In the meantime, though, she said continue supplementing with the formula as we had been.

But then she gives me the paperwork to take to the lab which orders the blood test. Diagnosis -- failure to thrive. I just about lost it. Way to make an already weepy, hormonal, worried, upset post-partum mommy feel like shit. No, no, no...failure to thrive, that's what happens to babies in orphanages in third world countries who have no one to love them or babies in traumatic situations like following earthquakes where everyone has so little. My precious girl has more than enough love shown to her, she's loved and cuddled and snuggled and loved some more. There's plenty of milk (and formula too) here for the taking. There's enough. She needs to thrive--I'm not a bad mama; I'm doing my best--but it's not good enough. If it was, she'd be gaining weight. And I do intellectually know that 'failure to thrive' is a medical diagnosis, not about me--and I know my doctor cares because she didn't SAY those words to me. But it's tough, watching your baby scream as they draw a vial of blood from her heel. And then even better, since this was the same lab where they had last drawn to check bilirubin levels, they did that test not the correct one. We were on the way home when they called me to say they realized it. Thankfully I had made a stop, so we were still in the same town. So they had to draw blood again--3 vials full from her itty-bitty heel.

Test results--no sign of infection, no thyroid problems. Keep up the supplementing. Come back in a week.

To be continued...

The Blue Bandit

Precious weighed in at 7 lb 6 oz on Thursday night. We were released from the hospital on Friday. She was looking a bit jaundiced, but not horribly so. This isn't unusual for newborns--Baby Girl was too. The doctor wanted to see her early the next week, so we made an appointment for Monday but said to call sooner if she started to look more yellow, particularly in the whites of her eyes.

Precious seemed to do fairly well over the weekend. She didn't nurse great, though it was clear to me that my milk was in. Even in the hospital she made a 'clucking' sound when she tried to nurse. I could tell that her latch wasn't great; I nursed Baby Girl for 15 months--I knew a good latch. We tried with a nipple shield and without and it didn't seem to make much difference. But she wasn't getting enough--I knew--she wasn't peeing or pooping as much as she should. She was getting some--I could tell by how my breasts felt.

Monday morning we went to the doctor and she was down to 7 lbs. Babies all lose some of birth weight but this amount was on the low edge of normal. Doctor wasn't too concerned about that--but Precious was definitely jaundiced. We had to go to a lab for a blood test to find out the level. (Aside--do you know how they draw blood from babies? They stick their heel and then bend their foot and squeeze numerous times to fill a vial. It's sometimes hard to watch as they scream the whole time--except this time Precious was a trooper and didn't cry at all after the first stick!) We drove our 40 minutes back home. She really was mellow--hardly cried at all--ever.

The lab results indicated a high level and so she needed to use a bilirubin blanket--a special therapy device. Which no one in our town has. Hubby thought he'd have to drive back, but the doctor found a way to get this device to us. A bilrubin blanket has a machine that kind of looks like a slide or LCD projector with a bright light bulb. The light shines into a hose that attaches to a flexible flat thing and projects blue light. This flat thing is to be wrapped around the baby's torso (unclothed). The light therapy helps break down the bilirubin in the blood so that it can be excreted. A baby's liver can't keep up with that level at that age. Also, the doctor said to supplement with formula (1 oz, 3 times daily). I really hated to use the Supplemental Nursing System that I used with Baby Girl because it's a pain, but we did. Sometimes we used bottles too--but that also took forever. Precious just wouldn't latch right--to me or a bottle. And we wrapped her in this blanket which made her glow blue in the night. Hubby started calling her the Blue Bandit.

In theory, when wearing the blanket, you can do everything with the baby except bathe them. In reality, with the hose attached that is nearly impossible. For the most part, we left her laying down except to feed her. That broke my heart, not to be able to hold her and snuggle her--or give her the food she needed to beat the jaundice. I would cry and cry when I did hold her and try to feed her. Once I looked at her laying there all alone wrapped up and her eyes were heavy and she just looked sad to me. Hubby tried to make me feel better, but he couldn't. I was so worried about her.

I just wanted to snuggle with her, to hold her close and protect her, to feed her, to take care of her and love her. But I knew keeping her wrapped in the blanket was best. We were supposed to leave it on and then have her blood tested again on Wednesday afternoon.

We were able to have her blood tested in our town. Those results were fine! She was no longer in the danger area for jaundice. But the doctor still wanted to see her the following Monday.

Time...

It's time to write at least some of the posts that have been written in my head over the last six weeks, so here goes...

I've decided on a blog name for the newest one in my family--Precious. Baby Girl may just have turned 3, but she is my Baby Girl and always will be. Though this little one is also technically my baby girl, it's just not the same. Baby Girl made me a mommy. And it seems a bit wrong to use an adjective for one of them and not the other, but over these six weeks, I've found myself calling this little one "Precious" so many times, just as I found myself calling Baby Girl "Baby Girl" when she was tiny. They are both precious and they are both baby girls. And as far as blog names, this is just how it's going to be.

So, now the story of Precious' birth.

Week 36 ~ Doctor usually does a cervix check at this appointment, but as it was Holy Week and she knew how badly I didn't want Precious born before Easter, she waited so as not to stimulate anything!

Week 37 ~ Dilated 3 cm, I had had a few contractions, but nothing real serious, nothing consistent or time-able.

Week 38, 1 day ~ times are approximate

9 a.m. appointment ~ dilated 3.5 cm, doctor says that my amniotic sac is really really low and that she is pretty sure I was having a contraction while she was checking me. She wants to monitor me for a while before letting me leave. (Reminder--I live 40 minutes from doctor/hospital city--she doesn't want me on the road!)

10 a.m. ~ hear hubby in waiting room as I'm being monitored. This is one of the week days that he works in doctor/hospital city. He was late into town following a meeting and knew my appointment should just be ending so had stopped by to check on me. He wondered why I wasn't out yet. I was having contractions every 4 minutes, feeling some of them. Doctor says to go walk a few hours, have something to eat, and come back.

We do. We go to the mall and walk it. We never have time together like this. We go to one of our favorite lunch places. I have contraband caffeine (I love cherry pepsi!) with lunch, deciding that if I'm in labor, I can have it! I am having regular contractions--I don't feel all of them if they are really 4 minutes apart and they aren't horrible, but I am sure we aren't headed home today!

1:30 p.m. ~ We go back to the doctor. I'm dilated 4 cm and after being monitored, I'm still having contractions every 4 minutes or so. She sends me to the hospital. We take both our vehicles there, knowing that when hubby's parents come to see new baby, one of them will drive his home. He's a bit worried, but it's only a drive of a few minutes.

2 p.m. ~ Check-in at hospital. During registration, we start process and it's moving slowly. They get to the question of why I'm there, I say..."I'm in labor" and they start to panic and try to rush. "Are you okay? Do you need to go right up?" No, I'm okay. I'm certainly feeling contractions, but no big deal. We do get into triage, I change into the gown and we wait....and wait...

3 p.m. ~ Nurse finally comes back. Another woman had come in and hadn't felt baby move and so triage nurse finds baby heartbeat, etc. to comfort the mom before coming back to me. As she checks me, my water breaks all over. And I mean, all over! Triage nurse jumps and manages to avoid most of it. "Well," she said, "you are being admitted for sure now!"

During this time, we get to our labor room. I'm monitored a bit, we walk. Contractions start to be ones that stop me so that I can't walk through them anymore. We call my mom to let her know that Baby Girl will be having a "campover" at her house that night. We tell her we'll call her when baby comes but that they should plan to wait until morning to come see us.

5 p.m. ~ By now I've decided to stay in bed because that really is the most comfortable as I breathe through contractions. Doctor comes to check on me. I'm dilated 8 cm. She asks if I want to push. I say no. Doctor says she isn't leaving, but she'll go and change into her scrubs. Next contraction, I think..."pushing might not be bad idea." Doctor comes back and I tell her.

5:40 p.m. ~ I start pushing. It's very different than with Baby Girl--in a good way. It hurts differently. I don't have pitocin-induced contractions on top of one another; I get a break between contractions. I know I scream when I'm pushing at different times. I have hubby's shirt in my hand twisted and tightened. He's putting cold washcloths on my head and neck. I'm grateful not to have an oxygen mask that made me feel like I couldn't breathe. (I know--that's backwards, but it's how I felt!) No tearing, nothing.

5:55 p.m. ~ Precious is laid on my tummy. I look at her beautiful body and smile. They take her to wash her and I'm pretty sure they said her Apgar's were 9/9. I remember thinking that they were better than Baby Girl's whose were 8/9. Deliver placenta--and actually look at it. It's pretty amazing and much bigger than I pictured. I'm glad I looked even if it was gross. I watch them clean and weigh Precious and check her over. I feel great! Even better after a shower.

I'm making calls shortly after to announce her birth. She's beautiful and I feel amazing. It's a surprise how much easier this was. With no drugs, no IV, no tearing, I feel incredible. I can't believe that I just gave birth. Thank God for that for so many reasons. Because if I had known what the weeks to come would bring, I'm not sure I'd have been able to handle them having to recover from labor too.