baby steps…
20 Jul 2009 3 Comments
in baby, marriage, pregnancy, stuff
I remember back when my Niece was first born, my BIL told us that a babies growth and development was measured in inches. Every small new thing was amazing and exciting and even though it may seem insignificant, it was awesome to watch.
The past three months have been sureal. I can’t even describe what it’s like to watch this little guy become a person. He’s only three months old, but he’s developing a personality that’s all his own. He smiles and laughs and makes jokes and play games. He coughs and then pretends to cough and then laughs just to get our reaction. He farts and poops and then laughs and acts like a little boy, already. He grabs at his toys and shakes them and pulls the cord to make them play music. He amazes us every day with every little thing he does.
Having Jason at home has made this experience a lot different then I thought it would. Our days are spent talking about the colour of poo, how funny his laugh is and calling out to the other to grab the camera or video recorder to capture something else incredible that he’s doing. We just sit there, watching him, playing with him, amazed by him.
We wake up in the morning to the sound of him talking and laughing in his basinet. He hasn’t woken up crying once yet. He’s such a happy little guy I never knew it was possible for a baby to smile as much as he does. Even when he’s sleeping, his lips curl up. I’ve had the best naps of my life over the past three months with him curled up in my arms.
Everything he does, every breath, every sound is absolutely amazing to watch and I feel blessed to be the one that created and carried this little miracle.
why, I never…
25 Jun 2009 1 Comment
in baby, family, pregnancy, stuff
I belong to an on-line community bulletin board for new Mom’s. Someone recently posed the question, what do you do now that you swore that you would never do before you had the baby? At first I thought, well, nothing! But, then I started really thinking about it…
Co-Sleeping: I love co-sleeping with the little guy, even though it drives Jason crazy. I don’t do it as much anyomre, but I used to love falling back asleep after his 4am feeding with him in my arms in bed… but, after Jason told me how afraid he was of it, I stopped doing it. (sigh)
Separating myself from him: For years while we were trying to get pregnant, I told Jason I wasn’t going to be the type of Mom that couldn’t leave her kid. If when he was one week old I wanted to go out with friends, well I would! Yeah, he’ll be 10 weeks old tomorrow and still the most separation I can have from him is when Jason takes him for his 30 minute evening walk after dinner. That’s enough time apart for me thank you very much! The thought of leaving him for anything longer then that makes me feel completely ill.
Being neurotic: If not being able to sleep on your right side because then you wouldn’t be facing the basinet is neurotic… well… guilty I am. In fact, I’m even thinking of moving his crib into our bedroom as he’s getting too big for the basinet and I’m not ready for him to leave our room yet…
It’s funny how the person you were convinced you were going to be before you have a kid doesn’t always end up being the person you you become…
the time we realized that our neighborhood knows too much…
13 May 2009 4 Comments
When we moved into our neighborhood, I wasn’t quite sure about it. I grew up in an area where it was like small town – everyone was friendly and got along. You knew your neighbors and talked to everyone. I was nervous about buying a house where we did because it’s a part of the city that I always thought was not very community oriented. But, we decided it wouldn’t be our forever home, just a starter home, so I could manage a few years.
When we moved in, it was winter so we never saw anyone. The first Spring, we started to see more people out and about, but with our home situation, we were both out quite often during the weekends and never had a chance to even see who our neighbors were, with the exception of the folks who lived on either side of us. In the middle of the summer was the accident, when Jason ended up staying in the Hospital for three months and I wasn’t home as I was spending my time between work and the hospital.
The past few weeks, we’ve been trying to get out and go for walks. We’ve slowly, very slowly been meeting our various neighbors and have been surprised at how friendly they’ve all been. But, what’s stranger is how most of them seem to know the story of last summer.
Last week, we were taking a walk with the baby and were one street over from our house when a Woman who lived in a house on that street came to the sidewalk to say hello and see the baby. We had the following conversation:
Lady: Look at the little baby! How old is he?
Me: Just about three weeks old.
Lady: It’s amazing what you miss in the Winter when you don’t see people, I didn’t even know you were pregnant!
Me: Yeah, I had a great matternity coat that hid it.
Lady: Well, I started to think something was going on when I walked past your house the other day and saw the baby swing through the window. I figured that you either must have had a baby or it was some weird kind of Physiotherapy equipment for you. You’re still in Pysio right?
Jason: …. um…. yeah, I am….
Me: ……..
This was the first time I’d ever met this neighbor. She doesnt’ even live on our street. I guess the neighborhood talks a lot more then we originally thought.
labour story… part two…
05 May 2009 1 Comment
in baby, marriage, memories, pregnancy, Uncategorized
For months, I had planned out my delivery. I knew what I wanted, what I didn’t want. I searched the internet for relaxation techniques during labour – I didn’t want to have an epidural and looked for other ways of pain relief. Jason and I took pre-natal classes where they taught us breathing techniques, relaxation massage and other ways to take my mind off the pain when the time came.
I bought battery operated candles to create a calming environment in the delivery room. I had music put onto Jason’s iPhone to distract me. I had instructions for everyone about who could and come out of the room while I was in labour. It was all planned and ready. But, I wasn’t expecting those two not so little words…
Back Labour.
Dear god. Once the contractions really started kicking in the pain was so unberable, all I could do was stand and sway and put my head against the wall for balance. I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t lie down, I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t bear to be touched by anyone. The 20 minute drive to the hospital was the longest, most excrutiating drive I’d ever been on. When we finally made it to the hospital, they were backed up so I was left in the waiting room for the longest hour and a half of my life.
When I was brought to the delivery room, the nurse asked if I wanted an epidural. I didn’t, I really didn’t, but the pain was so much I was leaning over the side of the bed in tears when the nurse strongly suggested that I take it, so I did. What did I discover about this experience?
I love epidurals…
Within minutes, I felt like a brand new person. It was the best feeling and I can honestly say that I enjoyed the last 16 hours of labour. Jason my Sister and my Mom all stayed with me, taking turns napping on the cot beside my bed. Jason’s family stayed in the waiting room… surprisingly, they all stayed the entire time to be there for the birth even though it took a full day. At least I had a bed, and that epidural.
One of the last internal exams by the Dr, he said that pushing wouldn’t be that far off, within the hour he’d be back so we could start. It was as he left the room that the warning alarm on my epidural went off letting us know there was only 10 minutes left of that wonderful drug. I asked the nurse to top it off… please… for the love of god… but, apparently the nurse didn’t think it was such a great idea as the Dr would prefer it if I felt the pain of the labour to assist in delivery. I cried. I seriously cried I told her that I coudln’t do it without the drug, even as we were talking the pain was coming back and lying on my back was unberable, but she wouldn’t budge.
It was two hours later before the Dr came back and told the nurse I should start to push. WITHOUT pain relief! It was the worst feeling I had ever felt (at that point). The Dr warned me he’d need assistance for the birth – a vacuum and quite possibly forceps. Honestly, I barely even registered what he was telling me and just told him to do what he needed to do to get the kid out.
It took an hour and a half of pushing until finally, finally I heard my Mom yell ‘Oh my god I can see the head!’. My poor Sister, who refused to watch her own labour, spent the majority of my pushing holding onto my leg and got an entire view of the birth. Jason stayed near my head, holding my head and keeping an eye on what was going on down there without actually seeing. My Mother kept jumping from my head to the foot to watch. I just kept my eyes shut.
The last push, which I thought would have been met with a great sense of relief, was instead met with the most horriblest feeling of my life. The feeling of being ripped from one end to the other. They took the baby right out of me and layed him on my bare chest. I lied there with my newborn son on my chest and all I could think of was the feeling of the blood gushing out of me and swearing that I was going to die. The Dr turned to a nurse and said he needed help – now – otherwise I’d be heading to surgery. I lost track of the stitches, Jason said it took over 10 minutes to get through them all but I was in so much pain and just trying to keep the baby on my chest that I didn’t notice the time.
After all the drama and the room was calm and the baby was weighed and I was told he was 10 pounds, the Dr came up to me, rubbed my shoulders, told me what a great job I did and then admitted that they were preparing the surgery room for an emergency c-section as they did not think I could deliver the baby on my own. Thank god he waited until AFTER the birth to tell me that.
Within an hour, the baby had met both sets of Grandparents, Great Grandma and his Aunts and Uncle. Exhausted after spending nearly 20 hours in a waiting room, they all left Jason and I alone with the little guy, which was the nicest thing they all could have done.
Lying in bed, Jason holding the little guy beside me, I heard him having the following conversation: “Hey there little guy, you are going to be so loved and I hope you get used to being the three of us, because we’re never going through this again.”
Amen.
the time that I felt like the worst Mother in the world…
02 May 2009 2 Comments
in baby, family, marriage, pregnancy, Uncategorized
Before I got pregnant, I had ideas about Motherhood and the type of Mother I would be. One thing I was adament about was that I was not going to breast feed. The whole idea just seemed weird and awkward and not what I wanted to do. Then, I got pregnant. Once pregnant, all my pre-conceived ideas changed – of course I was going to breastfeed. Why wouldn’t I? It just started to seem like the most natural thing to do.
The past two weeks have been rough. The baby latched on right away – he was a natural. An expert at only a few hours old. But, then after a couple of days things started changing. The baby was losing weight and feeding for much longer then before. When he lost 9.4% of his body weight in the hospital, the Paediatrician brought us in formula to help supplement him throughout the last night we were hospitalized. We didn’t get any sleep that night, worried about measuring and timing and making sure he got everything he needed.
The first night we were home, four days old, I struggled for over an hour to get him to latch – he just wouldn’t have anything to do with it. Previous to the latch problem, I’d been feeding him every two hours, with feedings lasting just over an hour. We ended up cracking open one of the cans of formula we had been sent as a sample and making him up a bottle. It was such a relief to see the food going into his stomach.
The next day a trip to the Paediatrician’s office showed that he was now down 12% of his birth rate. We were sent home with instructions to keep supplementing with formula, directions to make a trip to the breast feeding clinic and then another appointment the day after to check his weight. We kept supplementing him with formula, I made a visit to the clinic and met a wonderful RN who helped with great breastfeeding tips. The next appointment we were relieved to see his weight was back up and was only 8% away from his birth weight. We were told to stop supplementing and try to feed by breast exclusively.
Great news – but, enough to scare me into worrying about how much food he was getting… thus, began the roller coaster in which I felt like the worst Mother in the world.
I’ve been trying to breast feed, but it’s just not working. He’ll latch on for an hour to two, take a 20 minute break and then be ready for more that I just can’t seem to provide. Even after an hour of breast feeding, he’ll gladly drink another 2 ounces of formula. The first week I cried each time I gave him a bottle, each time after breast feeding that I knew he was still hungry. I tried pumping, but can’t seem to get more then half an ounce of milk out at a time.
Everything I’ve read on the Internet and was told by the nurses at the hospital says that breast is beast. From what I read, it seemed as if formula feeding was equivalant to feeding your newborn anthrax – you wouldn’t do that, would you? Every time I googled formula feeding, the first lines on every website were questioning why you would want to formula feed… why is it even an option? All good and educated Mother’s breast feed, why won’t you?
It wasn’t until last Thursday at the last appointment to check his weight, when we found out that he was just half an ounce away from his birth weight, that I started to feel better. Then, the paediatrician shocked me by not being angry that we’d continued feeding with formula and I was only breast feeding two or three times a day. In fact, he told us that he supported our decision if we decide to stop the breast feeding altogether and just formula feed from now on.
And, it was like all of a sudden all the guilt and anxiety I had been feeling was gone. I no longer felt like a horrible woman who had no right to be a Mother. I started realizing that there is nothing wrong with formula feeding – as long as my baby is thriving, shouldn’t that be all that matters?
And so, we’re formula feeding mostly, but still breast feeding as much as I can. I’m not crying with each feeding and I’m sure that’s a relief on the little guy. I can’t see it being healthy being exposed to all that stress I was passing on to him. I see the food going into him and no longer worry that I’m starving him, or worry that he’ll become dehydrated again… it took two weeks to get to this point, and I no longer feel like the worst Mother in the world.
