I haven't written in a few days. Mainly because I was under the (mistaken) impression that all was well and there just wasn't much to write about. Ha! I shoulda known better!
We have just returned from yet another trip to the doctor's office (it's simply a miracle that he hasn't caught some awful cold from all the waiting rooms he's been in during his three weeks on the outside now) where we have learned that not only did he not gain weight since his visit last Thursday, he actually has lost a 1/2 ounce.
Donald says not to worry, that a 1/2 ounce is nothing. But it is something. . .it means he hasn't gained anything and in nearly five days he should have gained weight, not lost it.
So the doc's LC gave me this syringe with a little tube that I'm supposed to run down into his mouth while he nurses that will provide him with formula supplementation. I'm to do this every other time we nurse today and then at least four times tomorrow, then it's back to the doc on Thursday for another weight check.
I'm not sure what to do on Thursday if he has gained weight. Do I continue to supplement with the formula? I would assume, since it would seem that it was the formula and not my breastmilk that caused him to gain. But if that's the case, why keep trying to breastfeed? What's the point if he's not nursing enough to gain weight?
Grrrrrr. I'm so frustrated. And worried. Why won't he gain weight? Why is he having trouble nursing? Why doesn't he poop? Why, why, why?
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
As for me, I'm feeling much more human.
Benjamin's lovely nighttime schedule is allowing me to get a goodly amount of sleep. I have lost almost all of my baby weight (still have about 20 lbs I want to lose, but I had that before I got pregnant). I can wear all of my rings now, even my engagement ring. And I'm wearing a pair of my "regular" jeans. Granted they are made with stretchy material in them, but still, they're ON and that's what counts!
Benjamin's lovely nighttime schedule is allowing me to get a goodly amount of sleep. I have lost almost all of my baby weight (still have about 20 lbs I want to lose, but I had that before I got pregnant). I can wear all of my rings now, even my engagement ring. And I'm wearing a pair of my "regular" jeans. Granted they are made with stretchy material in them, but still, they're ON and that's what counts!
Yesterday Benjamin was two weeks old.
We went to the pediatrician's at 9 a.m. for his two week check up. He's gained weight well since his last visit, so no more grief from the doc or the LC there about supplements or anything else. He had not, as of our visit, pooped in five days, so we were concerned about that and the doc said we could try a 1/2 of a glycerin suppository, but lo and behold last night he did the deed all on his own. We were ecstatic! Now if he'll just do that a little more often than once every five days. . .
Yesterday afternoon we went back to the urologists for his circumcision follow up. Everything looked good there.
On the way home from that appointment he got extremely fussy in the car. We stopped so I could nurse him, and he calmed down, but as soon as we got back on our way, he started fussing again. I ended up hovering over him so he could nurse while being strapped in his car seat. Not the most comfortable of nursing positions.
So during the day we still don't have a schedule of any sort worked out. Sometimes he goes for three hours without nursing, sometimes he gets all worked up and I'm nursing him every hour or hour and 1/2. I still worry about supply and still think sometimes that going to a bottle would be better--at least then I'd have numbers to go by--but I'm trying to stick with it a few more weeks to see how things pan out. By the time he's a month to a month and 1/2 I figure that we should start seeing more of a pattern to his nursing habits and if, at that point, it still seems as though I can't go more than a few minutes between nursing him, I may decide to switch to bottles.
Nights, on the other hand, are going rather well (knock on wood). I nurse him around 10 p.m. and then Donald gives him a couple of ounces in a bottle of either expressed milk (if I've been able to pump during the day) or formula. Makes him full as a tick and he sleeps for at least four or five hours. In fact, this a.m. he probably would have slept longer had I not gotten him up and sort of forced him to nurse while in bed with me.
So while that part is going well, I still don't see how people who have small children manage this (breastfeeding in the beginning). Lizzie and William are older and certainly less demanding (most times) than toddlers and I still feel as though I'm being unfair to them by being constantly tied down to nursing. I'm already stressing out about how I'm going to manage attending Lizzie's cheer leading awards stuff. That's where bottle feeding would be nice. And again, the numbers on the bottle would indicate exactly how much he's eating so I wouldn't wonder whether or not he's getting enough.
Oh well, we'll just have to see how it goes.
(True confessions: There's also some selfish motivation for wanting to continue nursing--it does burn calories and helps with weight loss.)
Right now we have to get ready to go over to Willa's. We're going to be there with her while she puts her cat down. Sad stuff. But I couldn't see letting her go it alone. Hopefully Benjamin's belly will cooperate with this effort.
We went to the pediatrician's at 9 a.m. for his two week check up. He's gained weight well since his last visit, so no more grief from the doc or the LC there about supplements or anything else. He had not, as of our visit, pooped in five days, so we were concerned about that and the doc said we could try a 1/2 of a glycerin suppository, but lo and behold last night he did the deed all on his own. We were ecstatic! Now if he'll just do that a little more often than once every five days. . .
Yesterday afternoon we went back to the urologists for his circumcision follow up. Everything looked good there.
On the way home from that appointment he got extremely fussy in the car. We stopped so I could nurse him, and he calmed down, but as soon as we got back on our way, he started fussing again. I ended up hovering over him so he could nurse while being strapped in his car seat. Not the most comfortable of nursing positions.
So during the day we still don't have a schedule of any sort worked out. Sometimes he goes for three hours without nursing, sometimes he gets all worked up and I'm nursing him every hour or hour and 1/2. I still worry about supply and still think sometimes that going to a bottle would be better--at least then I'd have numbers to go by--but I'm trying to stick with it a few more weeks to see how things pan out. By the time he's a month to a month and 1/2 I figure that we should start seeing more of a pattern to his nursing habits and if, at that point, it still seems as though I can't go more than a few minutes between nursing him, I may decide to switch to bottles.
Nights, on the other hand, are going rather well (knock on wood). I nurse him around 10 p.m. and then Donald gives him a couple of ounces in a bottle of either expressed milk (if I've been able to pump during the day) or formula. Makes him full as a tick and he sleeps for at least four or five hours. In fact, this a.m. he probably would have slept longer had I not gotten him up and sort of forced him to nurse while in bed with me.
So while that part is going well, I still don't see how people who have small children manage this (breastfeeding in the beginning). Lizzie and William are older and certainly less demanding (most times) than toddlers and I still feel as though I'm being unfair to them by being constantly tied down to nursing. I'm already stressing out about how I'm going to manage attending Lizzie's cheer leading awards stuff. That's where bottle feeding would be nice. And again, the numbers on the bottle would indicate exactly how much he's eating so I wouldn't wonder whether or not he's getting enough.
Oh well, we'll just have to see how it goes.
(True confessions: There's also some selfish motivation for wanting to continue nursing--it does burn calories and helps with weight loss.)
Right now we have to get ready to go over to Willa's. We're going to be there with her while she puts her cat down. Sad stuff. But I couldn't see letting her go it alone. Hopefully Benjamin's belly will cooperate with this effort.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Today was appointment day.
Mine at 11:00 a.m. in Chapel Hill (everything was fine--oh, and Benjamin had his hearing test and that, too, was fine), and then a consultation with a urologist in Cary at 2:30 p.m. for Donald (vasectomy!).
Benjamin more or less slept through the entire day, strapped in his carseat. In between the appointments we stopped at Regency Park so I could nurse him midday and then we had lunch at some icky coffee shop in MacGregor Village.
As far as nursing goes in general, Benjamin nursed last night around 10:00 and then Donald gave him the ounce and 1/2 of breastmilk I had pumped earlier, which he quickly downed. He slept until 2:40 a.m., at which time I got up, nursed him on the left (he went to sleep almost immediatley), changed his diaper, nursed him on the right (again, almost immediatley to sleep), and we went back to bed. He awoke again around. . .5? I put him in bed with me and nursed on one side, and we both fell back asleep until 7ish, when I rolled over and let him nurse on the other side. We slept that time until 9:00 a.m.
I suppose I need to stop putting him in bed with me, but it's soooo nice to be able to sleep. We'll see how it goes this a.m.
I had Donald give him a bottle of formula after our 9:00 a.m. nursing session this a.m. and he drank about an ounce and 1/2 and seemed very contented afterwards. I haven't done any further supplementing today, but will have Donald give him a bottle at his next feeding tonight, which should be around 10 p.m. I would have pumped today, but we were gone so much it was impossible.
Otherwise, what's going on? Let's see. . .
Benjamin's head control is improving. Amazingly so. He can hold it up and look around when on his tummy. And when I hold him in a sitting position to burp him, he holds his head steady then for quite some time.
Oh, and he is a very vocal baby. Lots of grunts, squeaks, and other noises, all the time. Lots of funny faces, too, to go with the noises. I need to get some video of him doing his thing. I wonder if this is an indication of how he'll be when he's older?
Tomorrow we have another visit scheduled with Cindi, the LC. This is all re: the fact that Benjamin didn't gain weight between his doctor visits. It will be interesting to see what her scales show. I personally think he's doing OK. . .but we'll see.
More tomorrow. . .
Mine at 11:00 a.m. in Chapel Hill (everything was fine--oh, and Benjamin had his hearing test and that, too, was fine), and then a consultation with a urologist in Cary at 2:30 p.m. for Donald (vasectomy!).
Benjamin more or less slept through the entire day, strapped in his carseat. In between the appointments we stopped at Regency Park so I could nurse him midday and then we had lunch at some icky coffee shop in MacGregor Village.
As far as nursing goes in general, Benjamin nursed last night around 10:00 and then Donald gave him the ounce and 1/2 of breastmilk I had pumped earlier, which he quickly downed. He slept until 2:40 a.m., at which time I got up, nursed him on the left (he went to sleep almost immediatley), changed his diaper, nursed him on the right (again, almost immediatley to sleep), and we went back to bed. He awoke again around. . .5? I put him in bed with me and nursed on one side, and we both fell back asleep until 7ish, when I rolled over and let him nurse on the other side. We slept that time until 9:00 a.m.
I suppose I need to stop putting him in bed with me, but it's soooo nice to be able to sleep. We'll see how it goes this a.m.
I had Donald give him a bottle of formula after our 9:00 a.m. nursing session this a.m. and he drank about an ounce and 1/2 and seemed very contented afterwards. I haven't done any further supplementing today, but will have Donald give him a bottle at his next feeding tonight, which should be around 10 p.m. I would have pumped today, but we were gone so much it was impossible.
Otherwise, what's going on? Let's see. . .
Benjamin's head control is improving. Amazingly so. He can hold it up and look around when on his tummy. And when I hold him in a sitting position to burp him, he holds his head steady then for quite some time.
Oh, and he is a very vocal baby. Lots of grunts, squeaks, and other noises, all the time. Lots of funny faces, too, to go with the noises. I need to get some video of him doing his thing. I wonder if this is an indication of how he'll be when he's older?
Tomorrow we have another visit scheduled with Cindi, the LC. This is all re: the fact that Benjamin didn't gain weight between his doctor visits. It will be interesting to see what her scales show. I personally think he's doing OK. . .but we'll see.
More tomorrow. . .
(This is something I posted on trianglemommies.com that I wanted to save here. Several mommies posted to add some pretty important points to it, but this is just my original post.)
If I wrote etiquette books. . .
This is what I would have to say about visiting new mommies and babies (granted at this moment I'm grumpy and sleep deprived, but I think that this will hold true even after I get some sleep--if that day ever occurs!):
1. Never, ever, ever show up uninvited. Also, never call and simply announce that you are coming. Unless you have been invited by the new mom herself, stay home.
2. Never call the house phone. It cannot be put on vibrate. Call the cell phone. If you don't get an answer or a call back, don't be offended. If the new mom does answer, don't try to talk to her about your problems. In fact, don't keep her on the phone for any reason, no matter what it is. Ask if you can come over, if she says yes, hang up. Ditto if she says no (except before you hang up, be sure to say that you completely understand and you hope she gets some rest).
3. If you have been invited over, unless you are planning to clean the kitchen, do laundry, or complete some other much needed household task, DO NOT STAY for longer than 10 minutes. If you do, in fact, help out around the house, do so quietly and plan to leave directly afterwards.
4. Bring food. Preferably casseroles or other things that are quick and easy to heat and eat.
5. If you do bring food, bring it such that you can leave it. Do not, under any circumstances, assume that the new mom and dad will want to eat with you while you're there.
6. Do NOT bring children under the age of five.
7. If you must bring children under the age of five, make sure to bring your S.O. and that you have worked out beforehand who is to supervise the child, as it is not cool to let him/her run freely throughout the new mom's house, thus stressing her out even more than she already is. Also, it is absolutely critical that you adhere to the 10 minute rule in this case! (Which unfortunately my friends did not do, staying for nearly two hours while their three year old ran amok.)
If I wrote etiquette books. . .
This is what I would have to say about visiting new mommies and babies (granted at this moment I'm grumpy and sleep deprived, but I think that this will hold true even after I get some sleep--if that day ever occurs!):
1. Never, ever, ever show up uninvited. Also, never call and simply announce that you are coming. Unless you have been invited by the new mom herself, stay home.
2. Never call the house phone. It cannot be put on vibrate. Call the cell phone. If you don't get an answer or a call back, don't be offended. If the new mom does answer, don't try to talk to her about your problems. In fact, don't keep her on the phone for any reason, no matter what it is. Ask if you can come over, if she says yes, hang up. Ditto if she says no (except before you hang up, be sure to say that you completely understand and you hope she gets some rest).
3. If you have been invited over, unless you are planning to clean the kitchen, do laundry, or complete some other much needed household task, DO NOT STAY for longer than 10 minutes. If you do, in fact, help out around the house, do so quietly and plan to leave directly afterwards.
4. Bring food. Preferably casseroles or other things that are quick and easy to heat and eat.
5. If you do bring food, bring it such that you can leave it. Do not, under any circumstances, assume that the new mom and dad will want to eat with you while you're there.
6. Do NOT bring children under the age of five.
7. If you must bring children under the age of five, make sure to bring your S.O. and that you have worked out beforehand who is to supervise the child, as it is not cool to let him/her run freely throughout the new mom's house, thus stressing her out even more than she already is. Also, it is absolutely critical that you adhere to the 10 minute rule in this case! (Which unfortunately my friends did not do, staying for nearly two hours while their three year old ran amok.)
Monday, October 22, 2007
Yep, just when I thought things were going well, what do I do? I haul Benjamin off to the pediatrician's office to get his weight. Assuming, of course, the entire time that he's gained tons and that we are finally going to be pronounced completely healthy and normal. But naturally, that doesn't happen. Instead I find out that he's exactly the same weight, 9.85, that he was as the last time he was there (the 16th, six days ago now) and I get stuck with Dr. Personality (first name is No), who asked me numerous times, in spite of getting the exact same response from me each time, whether or not my milk was in and if Benjamin was eating at least every three hours (answers: yes and yes).
Something else to worry about. . .
Something else to worry about. . .
Yesterday was a good day and things seem to be ironing themselves out in general.
Benjamin is nursing a lot better and being fussy a lot less. I'm getting some sleep (he slept from ~10:15 p.m. until 2:50 a.m. and I was able to get to sleep around 11 p.m.. When he woke up at 2:50 a.m. I was awake for about an hour, I guess, but then we all went back to sleep and slept until 6 something, at that point I nursed him in bed and then we slept until 9 a.m., so all totaled I got something like 9 hours of sleep!)
He is not, unfortunately, a big fan of his swing, as my other two were. He'll hang out in it for awhile, but it's not the continued source of soothing that it was to William and Elizabeth. Benjamin would much rather be held. Of course, then if you're holding him, he'd like to be nursed, too. But that's OK, this too shall pass I know. In the meantime, the daytime hours are a bit challenging, as I can't just hold and nurse constantly.
I have ordered a DVD and book entitled Happiest Baby on the Block that the mommies on the Triangle forum recommended. Supposedly it contains a lot of good ideas on helping babies help soothe themselves. Wish it would hurry and get here!
We don't have anything on today's agenda except to go to the pediatrician's office for a weight check on their scales. According to Cindi's scales, he'd actually lost a bit of weight, but I'm hoping that was just a difference in scales. We'll see this afternoon.
The rest of this week we have appts everyday. Tomorrow is Chapel Hill for me and Cary Urology for Donald (vasectomy time!). Wednesday I have an appt to talk to a Coast Guard recruiter with William and then Lizzie has an orthodontist appt. Thursday we follow up with Raleigh Urology on Benjamin's circumcision. Friday he has his two week check up.
*Whew*
It's going to be one of THOSE weeks!
But at least I have some sleep this time, and the weather looks like it'll be nice.
Benjamin is nursing a lot better and being fussy a lot less. I'm getting some sleep (he slept from ~10:15 p.m. until 2:50 a.m. and I was able to get to sleep around 11 p.m.. When he woke up at 2:50 a.m. I was awake for about an hour, I guess, but then we all went back to sleep and slept until 6 something, at that point I nursed him in bed and then we slept until 9 a.m., so all totaled I got something like 9 hours of sleep!)
He is not, unfortunately, a big fan of his swing, as my other two were. He'll hang out in it for awhile, but it's not the continued source of soothing that it was to William and Elizabeth. Benjamin would much rather be held. Of course, then if you're holding him, he'd like to be nursed, too. But that's OK, this too shall pass I know. In the meantime, the daytime hours are a bit challenging, as I can't just hold and nurse constantly.
I have ordered a DVD and book entitled Happiest Baby on the Block that the mommies on the Triangle forum recommended. Supposedly it contains a lot of good ideas on helping babies help soothe themselves. Wish it would hurry and get here!
We don't have anything on today's agenda except to go to the pediatrician's office for a weight check on their scales. According to Cindi's scales, he'd actually lost a bit of weight, but I'm hoping that was just a difference in scales. We'll see this afternoon.
The rest of this week we have appts everyday. Tomorrow is Chapel Hill for me and Cary Urology for Donald (vasectomy time!). Wednesday I have an appt to talk to a Coast Guard recruiter with William and then Lizzie has an orthodontist appt. Thursday we follow up with Raleigh Urology on Benjamin's circumcision. Friday he has his two week check up.
*Whew*
It's going to be one of THOSE weeks!
But at least I have some sleep this time, and the weather looks like it'll be nice.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Benjamin's feeding times for the day (beginning Saturday, 20 October):
3:15 am: nursed
6:00 am: nursed
9:10 am: nursed
10:00 am: 2 oz. of formula
11:30 am: nursed
2:30 p.m.: nursed
4:00: nursed
5:15: nursed
8:15: nursed
*9:35: nursed
12:00 a.m.: nursed
2:00 a.m.: nursed
5:00 a.m.: nursed
8:20 a.m.: nursed
9:35 a.m.: nursed
10:40 a.m.: nursed
2:35 p.m.: nursed
*The 9:35 p.m. feeding was basically a continuation of the 8:15 session. When I nursed him at 8:15 we stopped for a diaper change, nursed some more, then stopped to put his clothes and his swaddle blanket on, then nursed. He finally stopped nursing around 10:15 and slept then until midnight.
3:15 am: nursed
6:00 am: nursed
9:10 am: nursed
10:00 am: 2 oz. of formula
11:30 am: nursed
2:30 p.m.: nursed
4:00: nursed
5:15: nursed
8:15: nursed
*9:35: nursed
12:00 a.m.: nursed
2:00 a.m.: nursed
5:00 a.m.: nursed
8:20 a.m.: nursed
9:35 a.m.: nursed
10:40 a.m.: nursed
2:35 p.m.: nursed
*The 9:35 p.m. feeding was basically a continuation of the 8:15 session. When I nursed him at 8:15 we stopped for a diaper change, nursed some more, then stopped to put his clothes and his swaddle blanket on, then nursed. He finally stopped nursing around 10:15 and slept then until midnight.
So Cindi (Freeman is her last name) has come and gone.
And I'm feeling so much better about things. (Well, at least breastfeeding things--I'm still feeling a little weepy in general, but Donald has gone off to fetch the prescription of Zoloft that the Birth Center called in last night so hopefully I'll start feeling better all the way around here soon.)
Cindi was so gentle and kind and patient and she LISTENED to me. And best of all, she said that she thought things looked really good. That we both, Benjamin and I, seemed to be performing our individual parts well with regards to nursing.
Bottom line, though, is that I need to build up my milk supply and the best way to do that is to nurse. So what she has recommended for today is a "baby/breastfeeding honeymoon" of sorts: Stay in bed, lots of skin to skin contact, lots of nursing. And if tonight he does his "I'm still hungry" thing, give him a supplemental bottle of either expressed milk (providing I pump some today) or formula. (I'm so glad she said that--I was afraid that she'd be a breastfeeding nazi, as many LCs are, and would say "NO BOTTLE FOR YOU!" and would make me feel really badly about the bottles he's already had, but she isn't/didn't and instead was really cool about being flexible.)
So I'm going to do the stay in bed thing (with lots of sunshine and lights so that I don't get depressed) and see what happens.
Whatever happens, right now I feel better, and that's nice.
Maybe I will get through this!
And I'm feeling so much better about things. (Well, at least breastfeeding things--I'm still feeling a little weepy in general, but Donald has gone off to fetch the prescription of Zoloft that the Birth Center called in last night so hopefully I'll start feeling better all the way around here soon.)
Cindi was so gentle and kind and patient and she LISTENED to me. And best of all, she said that she thought things looked really good. That we both, Benjamin and I, seemed to be performing our individual parts well with regards to nursing.
Bottom line, though, is that I need to build up my milk supply and the best way to do that is to nurse. So what she has recommended for today is a "baby/breastfeeding honeymoon" of sorts: Stay in bed, lots of skin to skin contact, lots of nursing. And if tonight he does his "I'm still hungry" thing, give him a supplemental bottle of either expressed milk (providing I pump some today) or formula. (I'm so glad she said that--I was afraid that she'd be a breastfeeding nazi, as many LCs are, and would say "NO BOTTLE FOR YOU!" and would make me feel really badly about the bottles he's already had, but she isn't/didn't and instead was really cool about being flexible.)
So I'm going to do the stay in bed thing (with lots of sunshine and lights so that I don't get depressed) and see what happens.
Whatever happens, right now I feel better, and that's nice.
Maybe I will get through this!
Last night was great.
Around 10:30 I had nursed Benjamin for, all totaled, over an hour, but he was still hungry, or acted that way, at any rate. So I had Donald give him roughly two ounces of breast milk I'd pumped earlier. He downed all of that and went to sleep.
And he slept until 3 a.m.!
At 3 a.m. I got him up, nursed on one side, had Donald change his diaper, nursed on the other side, laid him back down and he slept until. . .6? Ish.
At that point I got him up, put him in bed with us and nursed him on both sides again.
He slept until 9:10!
But then. . .
I nursed him on the left side. I had Donald change him. I nursed him on the right side. He just played on that side, never really nursed well. But he acted as though he was done, so I put him in his swing so that I could eat something for breakfast. He immediately began to scream. And nothing made him feel any better. Not the swing, not Donald holding him, not being burped. So I did it. I broke down.
I gave him a bottle of formula. (Well, I gave Donald the bottle of formula to give him.)
Two entire ounces he ate.
And now he is, seemingly, contented.
He's swinging in his swing, not asleep, eyes wide open, in fact, no pacifier, just hanging out. No screaming.
I don't understand what's going on. Either I don't have the milk or he isn't latching on correctly or maybe he has had enough of a bottle that he really isn't interested in working at the breast anymore. I just don't know. The midwives at the Birth Center have said that Hispanic babies are switched back and forth from breast to bottle from the start and don't seem to have any issues, so maybe it won't be a big deal with him either.
But I feel like such a. . .failure.
I want to breastfeed, I really do, but at the same time I don't want to be a human pacifier, and more importantly, I don't want him to be hungry.
I'll be very interested in what the lactation consultant has to say today. I hope she can help. I know that formula isn't going to kill him, but I mean, sheesh. . .nothing else has gone right--I didn't have the birth experience I'd hoped for, he had the whole bilirubin issue and we were out of the house everyday his first week of life to take him to someone who would stab his foot--at the very least I'd like for breastfeeding to work out.
P.S. Note to self: I opened the can of formula today, Saturday, 20 October. The can says to discard any unused powder in a month.
Around 10:30 I had nursed Benjamin for, all totaled, over an hour, but he was still hungry, or acted that way, at any rate. So I had Donald give him roughly two ounces of breast milk I'd pumped earlier. He downed all of that and went to sleep.
And he slept until 3 a.m.!
At 3 a.m. I got him up, nursed on one side, had Donald change his diaper, nursed on the other side, laid him back down and he slept until. . .6? Ish.
At that point I got him up, put him in bed with us and nursed him on both sides again.
He slept until 9:10!
But then. . .
I nursed him on the left side. I had Donald change him. I nursed him on the right side. He just played on that side, never really nursed well. But he acted as though he was done, so I put him in his swing so that I could eat something for breakfast. He immediately began to scream. And nothing made him feel any better. Not the swing, not Donald holding him, not being burped. So I did it. I broke down.
I gave him a bottle of formula. (Well, I gave Donald the bottle of formula to give him.)
Two entire ounces he ate.
And now he is, seemingly, contented.
He's swinging in his swing, not asleep, eyes wide open, in fact, no pacifier, just hanging out. No screaming.
I don't understand what's going on. Either I don't have the milk or he isn't latching on correctly or maybe he has had enough of a bottle that he really isn't interested in working at the breast anymore. I just don't know. The midwives at the Birth Center have said that Hispanic babies are switched back and forth from breast to bottle from the start and don't seem to have any issues, so maybe it won't be a big deal with him either.
But I feel like such a. . .failure.
I want to breastfeed, I really do, but at the same time I don't want to be a human pacifier, and more importantly, I don't want him to be hungry.
I'll be very interested in what the lactation consultant has to say today. I hope she can help. I know that formula isn't going to kill him, but I mean, sheesh. . .nothing else has gone right--I didn't have the birth experience I'd hoped for, he had the whole bilirubin issue and we were out of the house everyday his first week of life to take him to someone who would stab his foot--at the very least I'd like for breastfeeding to work out.
P.S. Note to self: I opened the can of formula today, Saturday, 20 October. The can says to discard any unused powder in a month.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Benjamin is now eight days old.
Today has been a good day, compared with the past few.
I slept last night for probably. . .six? hours. Not straight, but total. Not too shabby.
I had, last night, decided that I might just call this whole breastfeeding thing quits. But I called a lactation consultant today; Cindi somebody (can't remember her last name), who was recommended on the Triangle Mommies forum. She seems, on the phone at least, both knowledgeable and nice. Sympathetic to the plight of new mommies. She's coming here to the house tomorrow to do an assessment. This'll cost money, but if she can help me feel better about the whole breast feeding thing, it's money well spent. And I've decided to give it three months. If I can nurse him for at least three months then I won't let myself feel guilty for stopping. If at three months things are going smoothly, I might consider giving it another three months so that he'll have been nursed for six months total. Almost all of the studies I've read about the benefits of breastfeeding use six months as the time frame of the study. But if at three months I'm still having issues and it seems that we would both be better served by bottles of formula, that's what I'll do.
Other than the breastfeeding thing, though, I wish I could make myself feel better in general. I am trying so hard to be upbeat and optimistic, but this depression lies just beneath the surface and it takes just the tiniest scratch to bring it bubbling up. I can be feeling fine, then wham! it'll hit me.
Today the "thing"that has me depressed is the loss of freedom. I think back to a mere week and a half ago, when I was lying on the couch, reading a book, doing what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. Or a month ago, when Donald and I spent the evening all by ourselves in a bed and breakfast, no demands on us at all. And yes, of course I thought about all of this when I decided to get pregnant and I was perfectly aware of what sort of sacrifice of time, emotion, etc. having a baby would mean. . .but that doesn't change the fact that right this moment I'm a tad resentful. And OF COURSE I feel guilty as hell for even feeling that resentment. So there you go, today's problems: resentment and guilt.
And those are just the most recent bit of neuroses to strike me. Add it to the ongoing feeling of inadequacy, the constant worry over things I can't change, and the overwhelming anxiety I have about the future (both near and distant--e.g. from having to go back to work to Donald's health) and what you have is someone who feels completely out of control and lost. And I can't get it to stop!
Far out. Just typing about all of this has gotten me all teary and morose feeling.
God, what is WRONG with me?? I want OFF this ride!!
Maybe I will go on Zoloft!
In the meantime, thank FSM for Donald. If he weren't here I think I'd have seriously lost it by now.
Today has been a good day, compared with the past few.
I slept last night for probably. . .six? hours. Not straight, but total. Not too shabby.
I had, last night, decided that I might just call this whole breastfeeding thing quits. But I called a lactation consultant today; Cindi somebody (can't remember her last name), who was recommended on the Triangle Mommies forum. She seems, on the phone at least, both knowledgeable and nice. Sympathetic to the plight of new mommies. She's coming here to the house tomorrow to do an assessment. This'll cost money, but if she can help me feel better about the whole breast feeding thing, it's money well spent. And I've decided to give it three months. If I can nurse him for at least three months then I won't let myself feel guilty for stopping. If at three months things are going smoothly, I might consider giving it another three months so that he'll have been nursed for six months total. Almost all of the studies I've read about the benefits of breastfeeding use six months as the time frame of the study. But if at three months I'm still having issues and it seems that we would both be better served by bottles of formula, that's what I'll do.
Other than the breastfeeding thing, though, I wish I could make myself feel better in general. I am trying so hard to be upbeat and optimistic, but this depression lies just beneath the surface and it takes just the tiniest scratch to bring it bubbling up. I can be feeling fine, then wham! it'll hit me.
Today the "thing"that has me depressed is the loss of freedom. I think back to a mere week and a half ago, when I was lying on the couch, reading a book, doing what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. Or a month ago, when Donald and I spent the evening all by ourselves in a bed and breakfast, no demands on us at all. And yes, of course I thought about all of this when I decided to get pregnant and I was perfectly aware of what sort of sacrifice of time, emotion, etc. having a baby would mean. . .but that doesn't change the fact that right this moment I'm a tad resentful. And OF COURSE I feel guilty as hell for even feeling that resentment. So there you go, today's problems: resentment and guilt.
And those are just the most recent bit of neuroses to strike me. Add it to the ongoing feeling of inadequacy, the constant worry over things I can't change, and the overwhelming anxiety I have about the future (both near and distant--e.g. from having to go back to work to Donald's health) and what you have is someone who feels completely out of control and lost. And I can't get it to stop!
Far out. Just typing about all of this has gotten me all teary and morose feeling.
God, what is WRONG with me?? I want OFF this ride!!
Maybe I will go on Zoloft!
In the meantime, thank FSM for Donald. If he weren't here I think I'd have seriously lost it by now.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
This depression comes over me in waves. I can feel it coming, taking over my entire countenance. I know it's hormonally driven, but knowing that doesn't make it better.
It's not been a bad day, either, all things considered. (Which further proves that it's a hormone thing.)
Benjamin was circumcised today. And while we were waiting in the doctor's office for the doctor to perform the procedure, his (Benjamin's, not the doctor's) umbilical stump fell off. So he left two pieces of himself in Raleigh Pediatric Urology.
But on another note, I have what appears to be a malfunctioning breast. My right breast doesn't seem to be producing milk for some reason.
Going to go look it up and see what I can find. The What to Expect the First Year book addresses it and suggests that I've just preferred the other breast for some reason, but then it also says something about occasionally the infant will reject a breast with a malignancy. Naturally this is what I've focused on.
It's not been a bad day, either, all things considered. (Which further proves that it's a hormone thing.)
Benjamin was circumcised today. And while we were waiting in the doctor's office for the doctor to perform the procedure, his (Benjamin's, not the doctor's) umbilical stump fell off. So he left two pieces of himself in Raleigh Pediatric Urology.
But on another note, I have what appears to be a malfunctioning breast. My right breast doesn't seem to be producing milk for some reason.
Going to go look it up and see what I can find. The What to Expect the First Year book addresses it and suggests that I've just preferred the other breast for some reason, but then it also says something about occasionally the infant will reject a breast with a malignancy. Naturally this is what I've focused on.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
It's official: I am a milk machine. And that's it. A human milk production facility.
Oh, and Benjamin won't sleep. Not on his own, in his own space, for any length of time that would allow me to sleep, anyway. But boy, haul him out to the van, strap him in his car seat, lug him out of his car seat, put him in his stroller and take him to a middle school football game complete with yelling and screaming and he sleeps. . .well, like a baby.
Meanwhile, I've been reduced to a milk-producing, sleep-deprived, hormonal zombie.
But at least tonight I'm not a crying milk-producing, sleep-deprived, hormonal zombie. Not yet anyway. The night, though, is young. But I'm trying hard to maintain. Donald helps me. He is such a wonderful husband. If not for him then I seriously think I'd have to give consideration to checking into Dorothea Dix, or the equivalent thereof.
I don't understand, either. I wasn't like this with Lizzie. Perhaps I was a bit with William. . .I do recall going to the pediatrician's office one day with my breasts bound in an Ace bandage because I just couldn't take it anymore. Fortunately they were able to talk me down and I resumed breast feeding. But I was 18 then. It was understandable that I should have a hard time coping. I'm not 18 anymore. I've done this twice already. I made my living taking care of not one baby but five of them at a time in child care nurseries. So what in the hell is going on here? Why am I struggling so much?
I don't get it.
And I feel so guilty.
I've contemplated bottle feeding.
I know! How awful!
He needs breastmilk. And I have breastmilk.
If only he'd SLEEP.
I nurse him. He sleeps. I lie him down. He sleeps for ten minutes at a time. Then he wiggles. Startles. Cries. I nurse him. It's a vicious circle.
Currently he's in his swing. Moaning. Working up to a cry.
I just nursed him an hour ago.
I guess I'll nurse him again.
I'm serious about the bottle thing.
But I'd feel so damned guilty. . .
P.S. His bilirubin level went down even farther today, from 13.8 the day before yesterday to 13.2 today. And he pooped today. He hadn't pooped in over 24 hours and I was getting a little wigged out. But he pooped today, so I'm happy. (Bet there aren't many occasions in life where one gets to write such a sentence. Thank FSM.)
Oh, and Benjamin won't sleep. Not on his own, in his own space, for any length of time that would allow me to sleep, anyway. But boy, haul him out to the van, strap him in his car seat, lug him out of his car seat, put him in his stroller and take him to a middle school football game complete with yelling and screaming and he sleeps. . .well, like a baby.
Meanwhile, I've been reduced to a milk-producing, sleep-deprived, hormonal zombie.
But at least tonight I'm not a crying milk-producing, sleep-deprived, hormonal zombie. Not yet anyway. The night, though, is young. But I'm trying hard to maintain. Donald helps me. He is such a wonderful husband. If not for him then I seriously think I'd have to give consideration to checking into Dorothea Dix, or the equivalent thereof.
I don't understand, either. I wasn't like this with Lizzie. Perhaps I was a bit with William. . .I do recall going to the pediatrician's office one day with my breasts bound in an Ace bandage because I just couldn't take it anymore. Fortunately they were able to talk me down and I resumed breast feeding. But I was 18 then. It was understandable that I should have a hard time coping. I'm not 18 anymore. I've done this twice already. I made my living taking care of not one baby but five of them at a time in child care nurseries. So what in the hell is going on here? Why am I struggling so much?
I don't get it.
And I feel so guilty.
I've contemplated bottle feeding.
I know! How awful!
He needs breastmilk. And I have breastmilk.
If only he'd SLEEP.
I nurse him. He sleeps. I lie him down. He sleeps for ten minutes at a time. Then he wiggles. Startles. Cries. I nurse him. It's a vicious circle.
Currently he's in his swing. Moaning. Working up to a cry.
I just nursed him an hour ago.
I guess I'll nurse him again.
I'm serious about the bottle thing.
But I'd feel so damned guilty. . .
P.S. His bilirubin level went down even farther today, from 13.8 the day before yesterday to 13.2 today. And he pooped today. He hadn't pooped in over 24 hours and I was getting a little wigged out. But he pooped today, so I'm happy. (Bet there aren't many occasions in life where one gets to write such a sentence. Thank FSM.)
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
I can't stop crying.
Today (Tuesday) wasn't a bad day, really. Benjamin actually slept pretty well last night and was doing great this a.m. But tonight, for some reason, he won't sleep. By himself, that is. He sleeps great if I'm nursing him or otherwise holding him, but as soon as I lie him down he starts wiggling and crying. He won't sit in the swing either. It's going to be one of those nights.
In the meantime, I have a low grade fever and everything in the world is wrong.
Today (Tuesday) wasn't a bad day, really. Benjamin actually slept pretty well last night and was doing great this a.m. But tonight, for some reason, he won't sleep. By himself, that is. He sleeps great if I'm nursing him or otherwise holding him, but as soon as I lie him down he starts wiggling and crying. He won't sit in the swing either. It's going to be one of those nights.
In the meantime, I have a low grade fever and everything in the world is wrong.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Benjamin is four days old today. (As days go, it's a good one so far. He's slept. He's eaten. He's "played" with me. Hopefully tonight will be a good night, too. Last night wasn't much fun, he was colicky.)
The past three days have been a total blur. Which I always assumed they would be, but in this case, they've not just been a blur of new baby, but a blur of doctor visits and near-hospital admittance.
Benjamin has blood group incompatibility jaundice.
I'm blood type O+. Benjamin is type A. We're not compatible. I have produced antibodies that are inside of his little body, attacking his red blood cells.
I did not mean to do this.
He's being treated here at home with a "biliblanket," a light-emitting device that he wears on his back constantly. The day before yesterday his levels had increased by nearly 5 points. Between Saturday and Sunday they'd only increased by one point. We have to go have his blood drawn daily to determine how things are going. I'm hoping that they tell me today it's going down. But I don't want to get my hopes up too high. While he is eating frequently and is well-lighted, he's just not eliminating waste as he should be. He hasn't had a dirty diaper in over 24 hours. And last night he obviously had tummy troubles, as he was a very colicky baby there for a few hours.
So now I'm worried about the inner workings of his little abdomen.
Worry, worry, worry. That seems to be my new M.O.
That's the other thing. . .I'm so hormonal and weepy. I'm sick with worry--about the baby, of course, but also about just anything and everything, too, it seems.
There hasn't been one day since his birth that I haven't broken down in tears. And I'm not weepy over the whole jaundice/poop issue--which if I'm going to cry you'd think that would be enough to keep me busy--I'm all emotional over things that I can't control at all.
For instance, this a.m. in the shower I started crying because William is going to visit UNC-W this weekend. That means he's going to be leaving soon. That means I'm losing a child. That means that Lizzie is growing up. She's nearly 13. She'll soon be changing, becoming a teenager. Leaving me. This means that Donald is getting older. He's 62 already. We've been together for 10 years and they've gone by in a flash. What's going to happen in another 10 years? I'm going to blink and he'll be 72. What will he be like then? What biologically does he have festering under the surface that I can't see that might take him away from me? From Benjamin? I don't want him to leave me. Leave us. And I know, I know, I know. I can't stop time. And worrying about all the things to come and the what ifs means that I'm not engaging and enjoying in the here and now. I know all this. And still I cry.
God, I'm a mess.
The past three days have been a total blur. Which I always assumed they would be, but in this case, they've not just been a blur of new baby, but a blur of doctor visits and near-hospital admittance.
Benjamin has blood group incompatibility jaundice.
I'm blood type O+. Benjamin is type A. We're not compatible. I have produced antibodies that are inside of his little body, attacking his red blood cells.
I did not mean to do this.
He's being treated here at home with a "biliblanket," a light-emitting device that he wears on his back constantly. The day before yesterday his levels had increased by nearly 5 points. Between Saturday and Sunday they'd only increased by one point. We have to go have his blood drawn daily to determine how things are going. I'm hoping that they tell me today it's going down. But I don't want to get my hopes up too high. While he is eating frequently and is well-lighted, he's just not eliminating waste as he should be. He hasn't had a dirty diaper in over 24 hours. And last night he obviously had tummy troubles, as he was a very colicky baby there for a few hours.
So now I'm worried about the inner workings of his little abdomen.
Worry, worry, worry. That seems to be my new M.O.
That's the other thing. . .I'm so hormonal and weepy. I'm sick with worry--about the baby, of course, but also about just anything and everything, too, it seems.
There hasn't been one day since his birth that I haven't broken down in tears. And I'm not weepy over the whole jaundice/poop issue--which if I'm going to cry you'd think that would be enough to keep me busy--I'm all emotional over things that I can't control at all.
For instance, this a.m. in the shower I started crying because William is going to visit UNC-W this weekend. That means he's going to be leaving soon. That means I'm losing a child. That means that Lizzie is growing up. She's nearly 13. She'll soon be changing, becoming a teenager. Leaving me. This means that Donald is getting older. He's 62 already. We've been together for 10 years and they've gone by in a flash. What's going to happen in another 10 years? I'm going to blink and he'll be 72. What will he be like then? What biologically does he have festering under the surface that I can't see that might take him away from me? From Benjamin? I don't want him to leave me. Leave us. And I know, I know, I know. I can't stop time. And worrying about all the things to come and the what ifs means that I'm not engaging and enjoying in the here and now. I know all this. And still I cry.
God, I'm a mess.
This is an account of Benjamin's birth (yes, though I had my doubts, he was finally born), picking up where I left off from the last post:
Wednesday, 10 Oct. Donald and I made yet another trip to Chapel Hill. We met Maureen at. . .I don't remember what time now, but sometime in the morning. She examined me and, lo and behold, the Foley catheter, while it hadn't fallen out, had made some difference to my cervix. She estimated that I was between three and four centimeters dilated. This was great news. Only one problem: I was no longer contracting.
Initially the plan had been to immediately admit me to UNC and get the induction process going. Unfortunately, UNC was having a rush of pregnant women delivering babies, so Maureen went with Plan B, which entailed officially admitting me to the birth center and using homeopathic methods of inducing labor.
So after going downstairs (to the birthing rooms), Maureen started pumping me full of blue and black cohosh. Every 30 mins I would take a shot of the two herbs mixed with distilled water. It tasted like. . .nothing really. She also bound my belly up in a sheet (in hopes of pushing Benjamin down toward the exit sign) and had me walk. Donald and I took a nice stroll down a little wooded road behind the birth center, but by midday it had gotten warm enough that I no longer felt good being outdoors, so there was quite a bit of sitting, or lying down, doing nothing.
Hours passed. Still no contractions.
Liz and the kids showed up around 1 or 2. My Dad and Carol showed up, too, after awhile. My mother came for a little bit. We watched a movie. At some point Maureen finally convinced me to drink castor oil. I'd made up my mind that I wasn't going to go that route, having read nothing conclusive online about its effectiveness, but I let her talk me into it because, I mean, what the hell, I wasn't doing anything else, might as well give it a try.
It really wasn't so bad. She mixed the oil with coca-cola and then had me chase that concoction down with a Reese's cup. I held my nose so I couldn't really taste the oil, but nothing was going to mask the consistency. Urg. But the peanut butter cup made it all better.
I expected it to work immediately, but it didn't. No effect whatsoever for. . .two hours or more. And then it really wasn't the horrific event that I imagined it would be. (The Big Mac and french fries I ate for lunch probably had just as much to do with the gastrointestinal issues I had as anything!) Coincidentally, though, shortly after the effects of the castor oil began, contractions also began. (My theory on the castor oil thing is that I eat enough oil and other rich stuff--cream, butter--that castor oil was not a big deal to my system.)
It was. . .5:45ish and we were sitting around, doing nothing much (which is what we did most of the day) and I started having mild contractions. Once the contractions seemed as though they were around to stay, Donald started timing them and they were fairly consistently five minutes apart. At this point, Maureen had been bugging UNC for a room and we were waiting to get the word from the hospital that we could come over.
Somewhere around 7:30, when it was obvious the contractions were around to stay awhile, Maureen had me go for another walk. Everyone came along and we walked around the block. As were coming up the back side of the birth center, I could hear someone calling my name from the parking lot. UNC had called to say that they had a room and I was to get there ASAP. So, scramble, scramble, we got up all of our stuff and headed down the road to UNC. Donald dropped Suzanne (a GSK co-worker and licensed masseuse whom I'd "hired" to be my personal masseuse during labor) and me at the door and we went and got into the room while he parked the car.
They started pitocin almost as soon as I got into the room, but Maureen said that they didn't give me much at all, so I don't know how much of the labor can be attributed to pitocin and how much to the fact that my body had started the process itself, but not long after I got to UNC the contractions really started to get intense. Very intense. Extremely intense. So intense that at one point I wished that I would die rather than endure the pain. If it hadn't been for Suzanne massaging my back and Donald letting me lean my forehead into his hand, I'd have never been able to handle as much of those contractions as I did. They were bad. I'd never experienced anything like with William or Lizzie because I'd gotten an epidural earlier in the process.
I had to get an epidural this time, too.
I still feel kind of like a failure because, I mean, here I was going to have the all natural birth experience at the birth center, no IVs, no monitors, no pitocin, no epidural. . .but there I was, laid up in the hospital, monitor wires everywhere, IV line in my hand. So much for my plans. But I thought, well, the least I can do is have a birth with no pain meds. However, despite all the awful contractions, I just wasn't dilating. And the pain. . .the pain was wearing me out. So I eventually gave up there, as well, and had an epidural. I must admit, it was wonderful to see the contractions spike on the monitor but not to experience them. Still. . .
Oh well. The best laid plans. . .
So, anyway, around, I don't know, sometime early morning on the 11th, I started feeling the contractions again. Nowhere near the level of pain as before, but no longer was I able to sit back and watch them happen on the monitor without being able to feel them. Eventually I told Maureen that it felt as though the baby had lodged himself smack between my legs and that I thought that a push or two would be a good thing. After examining me and discovering that I'd finally made my way to 10 centimeters, she agreed. The time was somewhere around 5 a.m. Donald was on my left, along with Lizzie and Liz. Suzanne was on my right, helping to hold my right leg.
I pushed.
And I felt him move down.
I pushed again.
He moved some more.
I pushed again.
I could feel him there, crowning. Maureen had me feel his head with my hand. He couldn't stay there, it hurt too badly.
I pushed again.
This time I don't know what part was where, only that the pain was unbearable and he had to get out of there. Had to.
I pushed again.
And again, taking only a moment to catch my breath.
It was 5:39 a.m.
One more push. . .and there he was! On my belly instead of in it. All 10 pounds of him. Wet, slimy, stunned. Glorious. Beautiful. Gorgeous.
Our son.
Benjamin Radcliff Zepp.
I'm in love.
Wednesday, 10 Oct. Donald and I made yet another trip to Chapel Hill. We met Maureen at. . .I don't remember what time now, but sometime in the morning. She examined me and, lo and behold, the Foley catheter, while it hadn't fallen out, had made some difference to my cervix. She estimated that I was between three and four centimeters dilated. This was great news. Only one problem: I was no longer contracting.
Initially the plan had been to immediately admit me to UNC and get the induction process going. Unfortunately, UNC was having a rush of pregnant women delivering babies, so Maureen went with Plan B, which entailed officially admitting me to the birth center and using homeopathic methods of inducing labor.
So after going downstairs (to the birthing rooms), Maureen started pumping me full of blue and black cohosh. Every 30 mins I would take a shot of the two herbs mixed with distilled water. It tasted like. . .nothing really. She also bound my belly up in a sheet (in hopes of pushing Benjamin down toward the exit sign) and had me walk. Donald and I took a nice stroll down a little wooded road behind the birth center, but by midday it had gotten warm enough that I no longer felt good being outdoors, so there was quite a bit of sitting, or lying down, doing nothing.
Hours passed. Still no contractions.
Liz and the kids showed up around 1 or 2. My Dad and Carol showed up, too, after awhile. My mother came for a little bit. We watched a movie. At some point Maureen finally convinced me to drink castor oil. I'd made up my mind that I wasn't going to go that route, having read nothing conclusive online about its effectiveness, but I let her talk me into it because, I mean, what the hell, I wasn't doing anything else, might as well give it a try.
It really wasn't so bad. She mixed the oil with coca-cola and then had me chase that concoction down with a Reese's cup. I held my nose so I couldn't really taste the oil, but nothing was going to mask the consistency. Urg. But the peanut butter cup made it all better.
I expected it to work immediately, but it didn't. No effect whatsoever for. . .two hours or more. And then it really wasn't the horrific event that I imagined it would be. (The Big Mac and french fries I ate for lunch probably had just as much to do with the gastrointestinal issues I had as anything!) Coincidentally, though, shortly after the effects of the castor oil began, contractions also began. (My theory on the castor oil thing is that I eat enough oil and other rich stuff--cream, butter--that castor oil was not a big deal to my system.)
It was. . .5:45ish and we were sitting around, doing nothing much (which is what we did most of the day) and I started having mild contractions. Once the contractions seemed as though they were around to stay, Donald started timing them and they were fairly consistently five minutes apart. At this point, Maureen had been bugging UNC for a room and we were waiting to get the word from the hospital that we could come over.
Somewhere around 7:30, when it was obvious the contractions were around to stay awhile, Maureen had me go for another walk. Everyone came along and we walked around the block. As were coming up the back side of the birth center, I could hear someone calling my name from the parking lot. UNC had called to say that they had a room and I was to get there ASAP. So, scramble, scramble, we got up all of our stuff and headed down the road to UNC. Donald dropped Suzanne (a GSK co-worker and licensed masseuse whom I'd "hired" to be my personal masseuse during labor) and me at the door and we went and got into the room while he parked the car.
They started pitocin almost as soon as I got into the room, but Maureen said that they didn't give me much at all, so I don't know how much of the labor can be attributed to pitocin and how much to the fact that my body had started the process itself, but not long after I got to UNC the contractions really started to get intense. Very intense. Extremely intense. So intense that at one point I wished that I would die rather than endure the pain. If it hadn't been for Suzanne massaging my back and Donald letting me lean my forehead into his hand, I'd have never been able to handle as much of those contractions as I did. They were bad. I'd never experienced anything like with William or Lizzie because I'd gotten an epidural earlier in the process.
I had to get an epidural this time, too.
I still feel kind of like a failure because, I mean, here I was going to have the all natural birth experience at the birth center, no IVs, no monitors, no pitocin, no epidural. . .but there I was, laid up in the hospital, monitor wires everywhere, IV line in my hand. So much for my plans. But I thought, well, the least I can do is have a birth with no pain meds. However, despite all the awful contractions, I just wasn't dilating. And the pain. . .the pain was wearing me out. So I eventually gave up there, as well, and had an epidural. I must admit, it was wonderful to see the contractions spike on the monitor but not to experience them. Still. . .
Oh well. The best laid plans. . .
So, anyway, around, I don't know, sometime early morning on the 11th, I started feeling the contractions again. Nowhere near the level of pain as before, but no longer was I able to sit back and watch them happen on the monitor without being able to feel them. Eventually I told Maureen that it felt as though the baby had lodged himself smack between my legs and that I thought that a push or two would be a good thing. After examining me and discovering that I'd finally made my way to 10 centimeters, she agreed. The time was somewhere around 5 a.m. Donald was on my left, along with Lizzie and Liz. Suzanne was on my right, helping to hold my right leg.
I pushed.
And I felt him move down.
I pushed again.
He moved some more.
I pushed again.
I could feel him there, crowning. Maureen had me feel his head with my hand. He couldn't stay there, it hurt too badly.
I pushed again.
This time I don't know what part was where, only that the pain was unbearable and he had to get out of there. Had to.
I pushed again.
And again, taking only a moment to catch my breath.
It was 5:39 a.m.
One more push. . .and there he was! On my belly instead of in it. All 10 pounds of him. Wet, slimy, stunned. Glorious. Beautiful. Gorgeous.
Our son.
Benjamin Radcliff Zepp.
I'm in love.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Let me see if I can quickly capture the past two days.
Yesterday we went to the birth center where Maureen, the midwife, swept my cervix. Almost immediately after, I started having contractions. She sent us to UNC hospital for an ultrasound. The ultrasound indicated that the baby, while still enjoying a thriving uterine environment, measures at a birth weight greater than 11 pounds! After Maureen got the results of the ultrasound and saw how regularly I was contracting, she sent us out to get some lunch and walk around, too see how things progressed. Contractions continued, going from 5 mins apart to 2 or 3 minutes apart. We went back to the birth center at 3:30. Maureen got a room ready downstairs and had me hang out in there, with my belly all bound up, to see what would happen. I guess we stayed there. . .I don't remember, a couple of hours, maybe? Nothing else much happened, no dilation, so we went home with instructions to call this a.m.
This a.m. I called at 8:30. Was told to meet Maureen at 12:30. Went in, had an exam, still no dilation. A doctor from UNC was there, she examined me, swept the cervix again. She and Maureen discussed my options. Option 1 was to go home, come again tomorrow a.m., do another sweep and see what happens, if no change then they would insert a Foley catheter into my cervix to see if that would help dilate it. Option 2 was to go ahead and insert the Foley catheter today, go home, if no progress tonight then to go to UNC tomorrow morning to be medically induced. I went with option 2.
They inserted the Foley catheter, after much painful poking and prodding, and I immediately began to have contractions. We stayed at the birth center a couple of hours and were given the choice to hang out there or go walking around Chapel Hill and see what, if anything, happened, or to just go home and see what would happen. I chose home. And here I am still. It's now 10:15 p.m. Tuesday evening.
Contractions have basically stopped. Although I still have the occasional one that really hurts like hell. There's blood at the end of the catheter, which freaked me out a bit, but Maureen says that it is normal and perhaps a sign of dilation. But since contractions have more or less stopped. . .I dunno. . .I'm thinking that there's really nothing going on. What good are contractions without dilation and what good is dilation without contractions? And why, oh why, won't this baby come out?!
It looks to me, at this point, like I'll be at the hospital in the a.m. But. . .wait. . .the midwife just called. I could be going to the birth center first and trying some of their herbal induction stuff. Good grief! Who knows what's gonna happen now? I'm going to go get in the bath and then go to bed.
To be continued. . .
Yesterday we went to the birth center where Maureen, the midwife, swept my cervix. Almost immediately after, I started having contractions. She sent us to UNC hospital for an ultrasound. The ultrasound indicated that the baby, while still enjoying a thriving uterine environment, measures at a birth weight greater than 11 pounds! After Maureen got the results of the ultrasound and saw how regularly I was contracting, she sent us out to get some lunch and walk around, too see how things progressed. Contractions continued, going from 5 mins apart to 2 or 3 minutes apart. We went back to the birth center at 3:30. Maureen got a room ready downstairs and had me hang out in there, with my belly all bound up, to see what would happen. I guess we stayed there. . .I don't remember, a couple of hours, maybe? Nothing else much happened, no dilation, so we went home with instructions to call this a.m.
This a.m. I called at 8:30. Was told to meet Maureen at 12:30. Went in, had an exam, still no dilation. A doctor from UNC was there, she examined me, swept the cervix again. She and Maureen discussed my options. Option 1 was to go home, come again tomorrow a.m., do another sweep and see what happens, if no change then they would insert a Foley catheter into my cervix to see if that would help dilate it. Option 2 was to go ahead and insert the Foley catheter today, go home, if no progress tonight then to go to UNC tomorrow morning to be medically induced. I went with option 2.
They inserted the Foley catheter, after much painful poking and prodding, and I immediately began to have contractions. We stayed at the birth center a couple of hours and were given the choice to hang out there or go walking around Chapel Hill and see what, if anything, happened, or to just go home and see what would happen. I chose home. And here I am still. It's now 10:15 p.m. Tuesday evening.
Contractions have basically stopped. Although I still have the occasional one that really hurts like hell. There's blood at the end of the catheter, which freaked me out a bit, but Maureen says that it is normal and perhaps a sign of dilation. But since contractions have more or less stopped. . .I dunno. . .I'm thinking that there's really nothing going on. What good are contractions without dilation and what good is dilation without contractions? And why, oh why, won't this baby come out?!
It looks to me, at this point, like I'll be at the hospital in the a.m. But. . .wait. . .the midwife just called. I could be going to the birth center first and trying some of their herbal induction stuff. Good grief! Who knows what's gonna happen now? I'm going to go get in the bath and then go to bed.
To be continued. . .
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Sunday, 1:30ish, and I'm happy to report that I have lost my mucous plug. This sounds, I know, rather icky and unappealing, but to me it's fantastic. It's an indication that something, at least, is happening related to oncoming labor. Of course, the pregnancy books and literature all say that loss of this mucousy (is that a word?) thing means only that something is going on with the cervix, it does not necessarily mean that labor is right around the corner. In fact What to Expect. . . says that labor could still be weeks away. Good grief, let's hope not!
Saturday, October 06, 2007
It's October 6th. Five days past my "ultrasound" due date. Eight days past my "calendar" due date. Since it would seem the ultrasound due date is the more accurate of the two, I'll go with that one as the official due date, but either way you look at it, I'M LATE!!!
And I'm extremely frustrated.
I just don't understand why things are not progressing. For three weeks now I've been exactly one centimeter dilated. Supposedly I am pretty well effaced, but effacement doesn't mean a thing without dilation. And of course I can't help but wonder, what is wrong with me! What is going on internally that is causing this whole process not to progress. And what would they have done about it 100 years ago, pre-inducing drugs and hospital intervention? Would I be facing the death of my child? Or me? Or both? Because at some point the womb becomes an unhealthy place and the baby becomes distressed. So what then?
I know come Monday that they'll start looking at such scenarios and trying to prevent them from occurring, but I can't help thinking the worst is going to happen. And I can't help thinking that somehow I'm defective. Here I am, Mrs. Fertility with the wide, child-birthing hips, but without the ability to actually go into labor. And all these months that I've been dreaming about my calm, serene birth-center birth are going to be just that, a dream. In the end I'm going to have to be strapped to a fetal monitor, flat on my back in a hospital bed with scores of strangers poking and prodding at my most intimate of body parts.
And of course there are fears about the baby. Is he going to be OK until they get around to sending me in for ultrasounds to determine the health of the placenta and the level of amniotic fluid? Is there something wrong with him already and that's the reason that I'm not dilating--there's a defect there that they haven't seen?
I'm scared.
And frustrated. And angry. And increasingly depressed.
I'm to the point to where I don't want to do anything except curl up on the couch and sleep so I don't have to think and worry. Unfortunately, sleep continues to be elusive due to achy knees and hips, an overburdened bladder, and as of this past weekend, a head cold.
I know that one day soon this all has to be over, one way or the other. But exactly how it's going to end is the mystery and it's driving me crazy thinking about it. Chances are I'm just being impatient and paranoid. . .but if so, I really can't help myself. Something just doesn't feel right. . .
And I'm extremely frustrated.
I just don't understand why things are not progressing. For three weeks now I've been exactly one centimeter dilated. Supposedly I am pretty well effaced, but effacement doesn't mean a thing without dilation. And of course I can't help but wonder, what is wrong with me! What is going on internally that is causing this whole process not to progress. And what would they have done about it 100 years ago, pre-inducing drugs and hospital intervention? Would I be facing the death of my child? Or me? Or both? Because at some point the womb becomes an unhealthy place and the baby becomes distressed. So what then?
I know come Monday that they'll start looking at such scenarios and trying to prevent them from occurring, but I can't help thinking the worst is going to happen. And I can't help thinking that somehow I'm defective. Here I am, Mrs. Fertility with the wide, child-birthing hips, but without the ability to actually go into labor. And all these months that I've been dreaming about my calm, serene birth-center birth are going to be just that, a dream. In the end I'm going to have to be strapped to a fetal monitor, flat on my back in a hospital bed with scores of strangers poking and prodding at my most intimate of body parts.
And of course there are fears about the baby. Is he going to be OK until they get around to sending me in for ultrasounds to determine the health of the placenta and the level of amniotic fluid? Is there something wrong with him already and that's the reason that I'm not dilating--there's a defect there that they haven't seen?
I'm scared.
And frustrated. And angry. And increasingly depressed.
I'm to the point to where I don't want to do anything except curl up on the couch and sleep so I don't have to think and worry. Unfortunately, sleep continues to be elusive due to achy knees and hips, an overburdened bladder, and as of this past weekend, a head cold.
I know that one day soon this all has to be over, one way or the other. But exactly how it's going to end is the mystery and it's driving me crazy thinking about it. Chances are I'm just being impatient and paranoid. . .but if so, I really can't help myself. Something just doesn't feel right. . .
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