Friday, March 20, 2015

Four Songs

I started singing to Baby Girl when she was in the womb.  I don’t know all the words to very many “kids” songs so it was tough coming up with songs that I could sing without the help of a CD or the radio.  There were a few and I would sing them when I wasn’t listening to other music.

I don’t think I sang to her in the hospital.  It was a hectic, jumbled time and my days and nights had no separation.  I don’t think the light behind our bed was ever turned off so the lighting in the room was pretty much the same all the time.  That changed once we got home.

We turned lights off and people actually went to bed for the night.  It was quiet and peaceful.  It helped me get back on a regular sleep pattern (even though I wasn’t sleeping much, my body knew when it was supposed to be sleeping).

While trying to get BG back to sleep I would walk the floors downstairs and sing to her.  I started singing songs that I knew all the words to and that I hoped would be soothing to her.  Mainly I just needed easy songs to sing.  The first one that came to mind was Jesus Loves Me.  Perfect.  There’s not many lyrics so that song was over pretty quickly.  The next song that popped into my head was Jesus Loves the Little Children.  I went with it.  I learned these songs when I was probably 4 or 5 years old so I can’t believe that I even remembered the words.   Next up was the ABC song.  This one is great because I can make it fast or slow, cheerful or more low-key.  The next song that I wanted to sing to her was a challenge.  There is a lot of emotion tied up in the last song because it’s the song BG was named after.  It’s a song that my Grandmother used to sing in church.  She would close her eyes and sing this song and tears would run down her cheeks.  It was an emotional song for her because her mother used to sing it and because my Grandmother was very close with God, that song was like a hug from Him.  That song is Amazing Grace.

I tried for weeks to sing this song to Baby Girl.  I couldn’t get through the first few words without breaking down into a puddle of tears.  The PPD and regular post-pregnancy hormone shifts made it impossible to sing that song without the grief I was feeling from the loss of my Grandmother.  It wasn’t just my loss.  When she died I knew she’d never get to meet any children I may have been able to have.  Losing her was also Baby Girl’s loss and that made me sad.  So for the first 8 to 10 weeks I was only ever able to get through the first 3 songs of our routine.  I only know the first verse so after I sang that verse I would hum it over again.

I have been singing those same 4 songs to Baby Girl every night as I put her to bed.  There’s been a handful of times when she’s been so tired that I haven’t finished all 4 but I don’t count that as breaking the streak.  J  She’s now almost 26 months old (what?!) and it never gets old.  We are to the point now where I can tell that she’s pretty tired and can’t focus on reading books anymore so I will ask her, “do you want mommy to sing, now?”  And she will nod and I will sing and she will fall asleep.

I’m sure that there will come a time when she will not want me to sing to her at bedtime but for now I will keep singing those 4 songs while I watch her drift off to sleep in my arms, ever thankful and gracious that I have her to sing to.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Saturday Mornings

I love Saturday mornings.  For about a year now we have had pretty much the same routine in our house and I am perfectly fine with it.  It never gets old (at least not yet) and I look forward to it all the time.

Baby Girl wakes up between 6:15 and 6:45.  I groan at how early it is and then I get up to go to the bathroom while BJ goes in and collects the baby.  He brings her into our bed and holds her until I come out of the bathroom.  I climb back in bed and she just about breaks her neck to come over and snuggle with me.  The first few times we did this she fell back to sleep for anywhere from 30 to 90 minutes.  That was awesome but didn’t last too long.

We lay there for 15 to 30 minutes…just snuggling and hugging and talking.  She’ll point to things and I’ll tell her what they are, she’ll spring up and laugh and then fall down on me again.  I have to practically beg her to give daddy some snuggles, too.  She has turned into quite the mama’s girl in the mornings.

We eventually get up and I change her diaper and we head downstairs.  I grab her milk out of the fridge and we turn on the TV and snuggle up and watch one 30-minute cartoon.  Then I pass her off to BJ and go in the kitchen to make her breakfast.  She is wise to this and has started coming in the kitchen and getting under my feet.  Stinker.

While she’s eating, I clean the kitchen from the night before (I go on cleaning strike Friday nights because I’m tired and lazy and just want to do nothing) and grab a quick bite to eat.

After she eats I leave her in the living room to play with BJ while I get dressed and ready for the day.  She usually fills her diaper at this point so one of us will change her and then I’ll get her dressed.  By this time I’m about to start running around like a chicken with my head cut off because somehow time always FLIES by when I think I’m doing a good job of staying on track.

I pack up the diaper bag and load it and my purse and phone into the car, get her shoes on and rush out the door…late as usual.  Where are we going in such a rush, you ask?  We go to story time at the library on Saturday mornings.  It’s awesome.  We usually show up right as it’s starting but I’ve actually gotten a little bit better at getting us out of the house on time.  We only live about 7 or 8 minutes from the library so you would think I could get us there on time.

I love story time because it is something we can do together for years to come.  She loves going.  She dances and plays and acts silly and cuddles with me.  She used to be the youngest in attendance but more toddlers and babies have started coming.  I’m pretty sure I’m the oldest mother there but I don’t really care about that.  What matters is that we do this together and that she learns to love books and reading and singing and dancing as much as I do.

Story time is one of the few activities that occur on weekends for toddlers.  It’s almost impossible to find something for us to do on Saturday.  Almost everything that our county offers takes place during the week and during the day.  Just about everything is geared toward the stay at home mom.  This is great because I know that stay at home moms need activities to keep their kids busy and themselves sane.  The problem with that is that we working moms struggle to find things to do on the weekends.  Baby Girl would be just as happy to stay home and play all day and take TV breaks but I can’t do that.  I’m a mover and a shaker on Saturdays so I need to get out of the house.  Sunday is a different story.  I’m perfectly happy to lounge around and not do anything on Sunday.  But Saturday mornings…those mornings are the highlight of my weekend.  I’m sure I’m more excited to go to the library than Baby Girl is right now.  I think I'm more enthusiastic about these things because I never thought I'd get to do them.  I never thought I'd be a mom at the library so I'm sure I go overboard with the dancing and singing and such.  That's ok...she's too young to realize that I'm probably embarrassing her.  LOL

So yeah, I went from sleeping in on Saturday mornings to being woken up before the sun comes up and I couldn’t be happier about it.  I love our Saturday morning routine and I hope it’s something that we can continue for years to come.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Sibling Rivalry - Sort Of

We have a problem.  The first step to getting help is admitting that there is a problem, right?  This problem is not one I was prepared for.  It’s one of those things that you don’t really want to talk about for fear of what others may think.  We have kept it pretty quiet thus far.  We elude to the problem very vaguely and with humor while trying to cover up the problem.  It sounds a little like infertility, doesn’t it?  It’s definitely not that.  Not anymore, anyway.

The problem is the relationship between our Baby Girl (BG) and the Little Guy (LG).  When people ask us what he thinks of her we are very honest with our answers.  He loves her to pieces.  He adores her.  He’s great with her.  When people ask us what she thinks of him we cringe and stammer out a less than truthful answer.  She loves him.  They play well together.  It’s hit or miss…you know how toddlers are.


The truth is that she doesn’t really like him.  She doesn’t like it when he tries to pick her up.  She doesn’t like it when he touches her or holds her toy or even lays on one of her blankets on the floor.  If I ask him to put her in her high chair she takes off running and tries to hide from him.  Sometimes she will come into the kitchen and try to hide behind my legs…all the while whining and trying to get away from him.  She has hit him on several occasions.  She refuses to tell him “night, night”.  She acts like it’s the end of the world if we ask her to give him a goodnight hug.

He’s never been mean to her.  He’s never alone with her.  He “picks” on her sometimes like a big brother does but it’s nothing that should make her behave this way.  It’s very upsetting to me.  It’s upsetting because I want to tell him to just leave her alone.  Stop trying to get a hug.  Stop trying to pick her up.  And then the other side of it is that I’m upset because I don’t know how to fix this.  She’s 20 months old (how did THAT happen?) and I feel like I can’t leave her with him for fear that she will have a complete meltdown.  He’s 13 so I know he could handle watching her for short amounts of time but the anxiety I would feel while away is just not worth it.

We are always inclusive when we are playing with her.  We include him in everything and try to make playing with him fun.  We hug him to show her that hugging him is ok.  Nothing is working.

There are times that she completely surprises us and sits with him on the couch while they watch cartoons.  And there’s times that she sits on his lap while he reads her a story.  When we are playing on the floor we can sometimes get her to happily include him in our activity.  When we are eating dinner she will be silly with him across the table.  He will take her outside and they will color with chalk or walk around in the driveway by themselves.  Those times are the rarity, though.  It breaks my heart because I know how upset he gets when she pushes him away and wants nothing to do with him.  He loves her so much and she acts like he’s the enemy.  It’s awful.  BJ gets annoyed with her and tells her to “stop acting like that” and “why are treating your brother this way?”  “Quit being mean to your brother”.  I hate that he tells her she’s mean.  It’s not untrue but I don’t like it.

It started when she was about 13 or 14 months, I guess.  It’s getting worse as she gets older.  I just don’t know how to handle it.  He’s with us 50% of the time meaning every other day and every other weekend so it’s not like she doesn’t see him enough to grow attached to him.  I really thought that by now she’d be excited to see him and sad when he leaves.  Instead, she refuses his hugs and couldn’t care less when he’s gone.  Well, that’s not true.  She does ask about him when he’s not there but not in an “I miss my brother” sort of way.  It’s more of a “where is he?” and that’s it.

Anyway, I’m at a loss here folks.  I do not like talking about this with people because they get a look on their face that makes me want to crawl into a hole.  I’ve had one person ask me if the LG has done something to her.  Ugh…I know he hasn’t.  He’s never alone with her.  I feel ashamed and I don’t even know where to turn for help.  I don’t know people with children this far apart in age.  The only reference I have is myself.  I’m 8.5 years older than my brother.  The thing is, he wanted to be with me all the time while we were growing up so I can’t understand why BG wants nothing to do with her big brother.  Any advice out there?  I’m feeling rather defeated right now.

Monday, October 6, 2014

Ahem...It's Me...Again

I know, I know.  I keep saying that I’m coming back on a regular basis because I have so much to say and then I disappear for months again.  I’ve been doing some thinking and I have come to realize why I haven’t been back here.

It’s just too hard.

It’s too hard to revisit the pain, depression, anxiety, feelings of inadequacy, uncertainness, fear and exhaustion.  Every time I start to write a post I stop.  I get overwhelmed with emotions.  The ones I just listed and others as well.  See, there’s this thing called Survivor’s Guilt and I have a hefty amount of it.  I know I shouldn’t, but I do.  Those are the reasons it’s so hard to come here.

The problem is that I need to come here.  I need to tell my story.  Ever since I started telling my story I’ve found this space to be my safe haven.  I can share my craziest of crazies and my saddest of saddest and yes, my happiest moments too.  I want to come back here.  I need the outlet and I need your guidance and your support and your advice.

I’m sure I’ve lost most of my readers and that is to be expected.  With my absences why would anyone stick around?  If there is anyone left out there that can help me navigate my feelings of parenting after infertility I would welcome them with open arms.  And as any of my regular readers know, I’m a step-mother, too.  Oh my goodness, the trials and tribulations of helping to raise a 13-year-old boy are numerous to say the least.  I need help.  I need to voice my concerns and my feelings and have people give me another point of view.  I like it when people give me another way of looking at a situation because sometimes I can be so caught up in it that I can’t see straight.

I think I will start in the here and now and fill in the blanks as I go.  I don’t need to post novels, I just need to post.  I have to work through my feelings and this is the best way I can think of to do it.  I don’t want to see a professional so I do what so many other people do:  I post my inner most feelings and thoughts on the internet and let readers have at it.  LOL

I hope there are still a few people out there but if not, that’s ok too.  I need to do this for me and my well-being more than anything else.  And this time, I mean it.

Monday, May 12, 2014

The First Few Days of Motherhood - Part 3

Ok, so I think I want to at least get through our hospital stay before I start reliving my ppd/ppa/ptsd issues.  Bear with me, if you will.

The Lactation Consultant was off on the Friday that we were in the hospital, of course.  She also does not work weekends, of course.  I had really hoped to see her again and get more help and advice because it was pretty obvious by that time that we were going to have BF’ing issues.

BG’s nursery visits were getting shorter and shorter, which was good because that meant that she was able to regulate her temperature.  I was beginning to worry about her bowel movements, though.  We had the handy-dandy sheet to keep track of her wet and dirty diapers and she was a peeing machine but she hadn’t had a “recordable” BM in about 7 hours.  I asked the nurses about it and they didn’t seem concerned and just told me to keep an eye on her.  Um, ok.

Spending that time with her was magical.  I felt like I was getting the hang of things as far as her care was concerned.  (HA!!)  Two nurses actually complimented me on my swaddling abilities which I let go to my head.  There was an instance when BG was crying and I was trying to get her to sleep but I wasn’t having much luck.  I was about to pee my pants so I set her in the bassinet and before I even finished my business she was sound asleep.  I thought that maybe I had one of those babies that just wanted to be put down.  (HA!!)  She would do this funny heavy breathing thing before she started crying and that became my cue to go to her.  One of the nurses was in the room when she did this and laughed and called her a drama queen.  Another nurse told me how quiet and content she was when she was in the nursery.  She commented on how BG would just lay there and look around and “watch” everything that was going on.  I thought that maybe I had one of those babies that would just be content and observant.  (HA!!)

On our last night in the hospital BJ and I got into a tiff regarding how to soothe the baby.  He had planned on going home anyway because he had to work but he left in a bit of a huff and I have never felt so abandoned in my life.  We were talking to a nurse about pacifiers vs letting the baby suck on our finger to help her fall asleep.  We were trying to avoid any nipple confusion and I was becoming petrified that if she sucked on anything other than me she would not want ME.  Those were irrational thoughts but that’s where I was and that was the first sign of anxiety but of course I was way too emotional to recognize it.  BJ and I made up via text messages but I still felt like I was going to have a breakdown at any moment.  The nurse even apologized to me for HIS behavior.  She could obviously see the pain I was in at the time.

The day we went home I was able to pump about 1 drop from my right breast.  The nurse looked at it and was obviously disappointed at what she saw.  I had been pumping after almost every feeding for about 10 minutes each time.  I had been putting the baby to my breast every 2 to 3 hours.  I had done everything I could to keep her awake at the breast.  I was not having much luck.  She just wanted to sleep on me…but she was sucking and I knew that was important.  The nurse we had that day examined my incision and noticed that my pubic area was swollen and bruised.  I had noticed but figured it was just retaining fluid like the rest of my body was from the Pitocin.  She was concerned and asked me how my belly wrap was fitting.  Apparently, I had been wearing it wrong for 2 days.  The edge of it was digging into my pubic area and was causing me harm.  How I didn’t notice this is beyond me.  I was really swollen and quite bruised.  She said that it was supposed to be worn like a mini-skirt, not like a belt.  I wonder why no one told me that.  She also said that the one I had was too small.  Lovely.  So she got me a new one and oh how grateful I was to her.  She examined my breasts and said that she felt my mammary glands and that my milk should be in shortly.  Yay!  It was discharge time!

I was packing the room up and waiting for BJ to arrive with the car seat when the pediatrician came in with instructions for me.  This is another doctor at the practice where I would be taking BG.  She came in without a smile and was very business-like and stone faced.  She said:

“You are going to need to finger feed her X amount of formula after every feeding until Monday.  You need to make an appointment with our office to have the baby seen on Monday (today was Saturday).  She’s slightly jaundiced and she’s lost just under 10% of her weight, ok?”

 I was totally thrown for another loop.  Now we have a weight issue, too?  AND jaundice?  What will be next?  Not to mention that I was just about to cry when the doctor left the room.  She was so cold and so blunt and just so matter of fact with the news she just delivered.  She left a bad taste in my mouth.  I made a decision that day that I would see ANY other doctor in the practice but not her.

BJ showed up and I told him what the problem was and he just shook his head.  Can’t anything go right?  Why can’t we be a “normal” couple that has a baby and just goes home?  Why do we have to have all these issues?  Ugh 

I had the nurse show me how to use the syringe to finger feed my baby.  I was so upset but I was just going through the motions and trying really hard to concentrate on what she was saying.  We were finally discharged in the afternoon.  Baby Girl was so tiny in her car seat.  Dressing her in her going home outfit was challenging.  J  She had only worn t-shirts and socks up until that point.  Her overalls said “together at last” and that could not have been more appropriate considering what we went through to get her.

We loaded everything into the car and I took a ride in the wheelchair…still feeling detached from the whole experience.  We were taking a baby home…to our house…to keep.  I still find it hard to fathom at times.  We stopped at the pharmacy for my pain meds.  It was cold and damp and windy so I stayed in the car.  When we pulled up to our house it had been decorated by my friend/neighbor.  There were balloons and cut outs and a banner welcoming our baby by name.  It was so wonderful to see.  The friend came over just as we were bringing everything inside.  BJ had cleaned the house from top to bottom and it was great to walk in to a sparkling clean house.  I had cleaned it before we left but since we have 2 cats and the boys had been home while I was away I guess it got a bit messy in my absence.  I let my friend hold the baby while I prepared to feed her.

Once my friend left and we were alone with the baby I could not stop staring at her.  I actually laid her down long enough to take her picture in her bassinet but for the most part she was either in my or BJ’s arms.  We were home with our baby.  I almost started crying when I realized that I had not taken a picture of me holding the baby on her first night in the house.  We quickly took a few pictures and BJ headed off to bed.  I was stuck on the couch.  When he left to go to bed I cried.  I was alone, again.  I didn’t know how much sleeping on separate floors would affect me until several days later.

That first night was rough.  I was exhausted but I kept setting my alarm for every 2 hours so I could nurse the baby and then give her the formula.  It was extremely difficult finger feeding a newborn by myself but I managed to do it twice over night.  I woke up with every little noise she made and I must have checked her breathing at least 10 times.  I almost felt guilty for sleeping when I was actually able to sleep.  It’s crazy to think about now because I honestly don’t know how I was able to accomplish anything with the lack of sleep I had been getting since she arrived.

Wow, this post has gotten really long.  I’ll stop babbling now.  Once I get going it’s hard to stop because all of these details come flying back to me and I’m reliving them each time I post.  Some of the feelings are great to experience again but others, not so much.  I’m trying to condense things but apparently I’m not so good at condensing.  J

Monday, April 28, 2014

The First Few Days of Motherhood - Part 2

Staying in the hospital was like a dream.  And I don’t mean like a fantasy…I mean like a dream that I experienced but that didn’t really happen.  There’s so many things about the early days of motherhood that seemed unreal to me.  I found myself not asking questions when I should and listening hollowly as medical professionals spoke to me.  I don’t know if it was just the sheer shock of having an actual baby or if it was the result of the chaos that ensued around us.  When I say “chaos” I don’t mean that things got really crazy and out of hand but in my world and my mind things were definitely not going the way I thought they would so it felt very chaotic to me.

I was anxious for the nurse to come and get Baby Girl and take her to the nursery so that she could be checked out by her pediatrician.  I ate breakfast and kept attempting to nurse my little bundle.  The nurses had been in throughout the night giving me pain meds and taking both of our vitals.  Those visits on top of trying to feed the baby did not provide me with much sleep.  Thank goodness for adrenaline.

They took the baby and we waited.  While we were waiting they FINALLY brought me a pump and showed me how to use it.  They said that they could take whatever little amounts I got out with a syringe and feed it to the baby.  I was happy since it was now 24 hours after I had given birth and we still could not get a good latch on my left side.  The Lactation Consultant (I’m calling her Betty) came in and we chatted for a few minutes and then she said she’d come back once the baby was in the room again so we could practice latching and holding techniques.

We were informed that Baby Girl was still having temperature issues so they kept her even longer.  I pumped and waited…and waited…and waited.  Finally the pediatrician came in and started talking to us.  It was the same guy I went to see when we thought there was a problem with BG’s head.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to trust him.  He started out the conversation like this:

Doctor – “We are thinking that she has a hemangioma on her neck.  We’ll want to take a closer look at it maybe with an ultra sound in the coming weeks.  It doesn’t seem to be causing any breathing or swallowing issues right now.  The one on her head, though, might be a cyst of some sort…”

Me – “What?  What’s on her head?  We didn’t see anything on her head.”

Doctor – “We’ll want to take a better look at it to make sure it’s not attached to any brain tissue.  The tech on site might not want to perform a scan on a newborn so you may need to get a specialist.  We’ll also want to check her out to make sure there aren’t any others internally that we can’t see with our naked eyes.  When there’s more than one we get a little concerned that we might have a bigger problem on our hands.”

I don’t remember much more about that conversation because I was again overcome with such worry that I could barely see straight.  I kept thinking things like:  We did DE because I have bad eggs and now my poor baby STILL has some sort of health issue.  How is this happening?  We were so happy when her skull got the all clear from the other doctor.  What are we going to do?  Is she going to have to have skull surgery and/or surgery on her tiny little neck?  Will these things grow and prohibit her from a “normal” life?  I didn’t say any of this out loud at that time.  I was silenced with worry.  The doctor left and BJ and I just sat in silence.

They finally brought BG back to us once she was at a proper temperature.  I pulled her hat off that she had been wearing for over 24 hours (except for the time I took a picture of all her hair) and rubbed my fingers lightly over the top of her head.  Sure enough, there was a big lump on her head.  Her hair was so thick that we couldn’t see it.  We could only feel it.  I was so upset.  Her head was so tiny and this huge lump felt like the end of the world.  Now we had to wait for the u/s to tell us more.
Betty came in and helped me latch BG right away on each side.  I was thrilled.  I was determined to get this child to eat and to succeed at SOMETHING that my body was meant to do.  We nursed and visited and cuddled and it was great.  All the while in the back of my mind I was wondering if something was seriously wrong with my little girl.  I kept asking myself if I was being punished in some way for the method in which we brought her into this world.  I dismissed those thoughts as much as I could because I just wanted her to be ok.  Nothing else mattered to me.

I have already written about my physical trials after the birth so I won’t rehash everything here.  I will say that having the catheter was the BEST part of the birth.  Before the surgery I had to pee what felt like every 10 minutes.  With the catheter in I didn’t have to pee at all.  I just laid around and enjoyed being lazy.

I had a voracious appetite in the hospital and they would bring me 3 meals a day along with a couple of snacks.  I ate like a crazy woman.  I also did not have any more nausea or heartburn.  It was awesome.  I started taking notes when we checked in but as soon as all the bad news started coming our way I quit writing things down.  I had hoped to have a full record of everything that went on but that is not to be.   Coming here and spilling everything that I can remember is going to have to be good enough.

Next post will be more about my emotions and feelings during our time in the hospital and the weeks following discharge.  It is only recently after reading another blog that I realize that I not only went through one hell of a bout of PPD but also PPA (post-partum anxiety).  It wasn’t pretty…and it lingers.  One of my readers suggested that maybe I also have a bit of PTSD and I would not be surprised about that, either.  These feelings and emotions were much more than I ever expected or could have anticipated.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

The First Few Days of Motherhood - Part 1

The first few days of motherhood were like a dream and a blur and a whirlwind of emotions.  If you remember, we were told there was something wrong with Baby Girl’s head.  They said it was too small and that it “fused” prematurely.  Hmph.  There were so many emotions during and immediately following her birth that I was completely overwhelmed…so much so that I think I sort of shut down in many ways and totally overreacted in other ways.  It’s hard to put into words but I’m going to try.

In the recovery room I was nauseated and tired.  I had been up most of the night with contractions and stress and then had the emotional let down of having to have a c-section and then the elation of giving birth.  I was all over the place.  BJ and the on call pediatrician came in to see me to talk about what they found while examining the baby.  They found nothing wrong with her.  Not only was her head not too small but it also was not fused.  Everything was as it should be and I could not have been more relieved.  My anger at those technicians has not subsided.  I blame them for the worry and the stress and for basically ruining the last week of my pregnancy.  I also blame them for the urgency my doctor felt to get the baby out instead of giving me a few more days to see if I would go into labor on my own.  I know there is no sense in carrying this anger but right now I just can’t let it go completely.

BJ brought BG to me and I cried but I didn’t cry.  There were no tears.  I was too emotional to cry.  I held her close and looked at her little face in awe.  She had the Vaseline on her eyes and she was a little discolored but she was perfect and her warm little body felt so good in my arms.  I did a little skin to skin and tried to get her to latch and eat but we didn’t have much success on that front at that time.  There is much more on breastfeeding ahead.  I just held her and kissed her.  My sister in law came in and we ooh’ed and ahh’ed over our little bundle.  BJ was starving so he headed down to the cafeteria to get something to eat.  Just after he left the nurse came to take the baby to get her first bath.  I was upset because BJ was going to miss it.  My sister in law said she would take some pictures for us.  I also learned that the Little Guy and his mother had arrived and would be watching as well.

I drifted in and out of sleep until it was time to go to my room.  Everyone converged in our room shortly thereafter and they brought BG to me.  We tried latching again and had a brief moment of success on the right side but the left side was not really working.  I asked if I should use a pump but they said I didn’t need one at that time (early afternoon) and that we would try again later.  Hindsight is 20/20 here ladies.

I was holding the baby in my left arm and there was a nurse standing on my right side.  She said, “oh, does she have a bruise from the birth?” and pointed at a spot on her neck just under her chin.  I saw it and was immediately worried that the stress of the birth had been too much and she was somehow bruised while being taken out of me.  I touched the spot and was horrified to feel a huge lump under her skin.  The nurses touched it and so did BJ.  I was so upset at this new development that I could barely speak.  After all the worrying over her head that we did now we have this new condition to contend with.  The staff told me that BG’s pediatrician would look it over in the morning during his usual rounds and that we’d have some answers then.  Great…more worrying and stressing over the health of my child that was only a few hours old.

Everyone left and BJ and the Little Guy stayed with me for a while.  The Little Guy’s grandfather came for a visit and to take the Little Guy back to his house for the night.  I convinced BJ to go home and get some sleep in our own bed.  He didn’t want to leave but I knew how tired he was and that he’d never sleep in the chairs in the room.  I promised that I would call the nurses if I needed help getting the baby out of the bassinet (I was still confined to my bed).  Just as we were talking the nurse that was checking BG’s vitals told us that her temperature was too low and that she needed to go under the lights in the nursery.  What?  So they took her from me.  I sent BJ to look after her.  She was gone for so long that they had to finger feed her some formula…and I still did not have a pump.  We had 3 semi-failed nursing sessions by now.

She finally came back to me and we tried nursing again with little success.  The nurses promised me that the LC (lactation consultant) would come see me in the morning.  We’ll call her Betty.  BJ went home and I cried…big crocodile tears.  I was afraid to be alone with the baby.  I had never spent the night alone in a hospital.  It had been years since BJ and I slept apart.  I was a mess to say the least.  I made the best of it.  I laid her in the bed with me on her boppy and we dozed and nursed every 2-3 hours.  I was exhausted but running on adrenaline.  It was awesome.  She was so adorable in her little hat that I kept taking pictures of all her cute little faces she was making.  She had the hat on most of the time since she had been born.  I took it off and admired her full head of thick black hair.  No wonder I had heartburn so bad.  J  I put the hat back on to make sure she stayed warm and I went to sleep.