sueeeus

So far I don’t have any signs of post partum depression.  Last time I had a short-lived phase in which I didn’t want to see or speak to anybody, not even those closest to me.  While part of me wanted to call and share the good news, another part of me just couldn’t bear to pick up the phone.

This time, I’m emotional, but I think that goes with the territory, regardless.  And today, my beautiful boy was circumcised, and I’m a wreck because of it.  I couldn’t be in the room when they did it, and I could barely stand to look at the dressing when it was done, and when it was time for the first post-op diaper change and the removal of the dressing, I had to turn the job over to Gadget, while I sat across the room and sobbed.  Circumcision is a controversial subject, and I don’t really want to get into that.  We had decided to have it done with BB, so we followed suit with LB.  Only, I don’t remember it being so traumatic with BB.  His was done when he was only a day old, in hospital, and possibly it wasn’t traumatic because the nursing staff took care of the initial dressings and post-op care.  This time, with insurance and hospital policy changes, we were advised not to have it done while in hospital, but to do it at the ob/gyn’s office within the first two weeks of life.  Today was the first available appointment, and today LB was two weeks old.  I think I was also told that having it done in the first days of life could have a slight impact on the nursing scenario, and because I’ve been struggling with that, I didn’t push the issue to have it done in hospital.

After Gadget finished removing the dressing and applying the neosporin, I held my precious boy and sobbed, all the while thinking that my freak out sobbing is not helping anything whatsoever.  And it thoroughly distresses BB to see his mother cry.  LB seems to be weathering this well.  He was calm after the diaper change, and fed well, and is sleeping well.  My little love.  Now, to gather my courage and collect my wits so that I will be able to tend to the healing properly, by pulling the skin gently to expose the ridge, and applying the neosporin liberally.  Sigh.  Why is it so difficult for me this time?

Meanwhile, I told my doctor that my own healing process seems much more painful than last time, which he said was unusual, because repeat c-sections are generally weathered better than the original.  I was able to get a prescription renewal for some more percoset, which I will use sparingly, and hoard for future migraines, should they materialize.  When I’m hit, there’s no way I’ll drag myself to a doctor, so no chance of acquiring any medication to alleviate the pain.  This way, I have options.  The problem with percoset and pain is sort of a catch 22 in that I suspect a great deal of the pain I’m experiencing is intestinal in nature, and percoset has constipation as a side effect.  To take it or not to take it, that is the question.  The thing is, this constipation, if that is what it is, is far and beyond anything that I’ve heretofore experienced, and I’m no stranger to the condition.  I wonder if I’ve actually been impacted.  I watched my belly grow and harden over the course of a few days, and the pain increased until I could barely walk, and finally decided that if it was, indeed, intestinal, that the colace wasn’t cutting it and it was time for some senna.  Even so, it took quite some time for the senna to do anything, and when it did, it was incredibly painful.  But the swelling began to subside and the hardness of my belly diminished.  I continued taking the senna, and every two or three days something would happen, so to speak, and the hardness seemed to drop with each passing.  So it would seem that as things work their way out, the pain in my gut is working its way down.  However, the act of passing is dreadful and painful and nigh on impossible, at times, leaving me sweating, sobbing, and bleeding.  I resort to a pain killer to help work through the pain, but does this very same pain killer actually prolong the condition?  What to do, what to do.  I’ve been drinking loads of water.  Loads.  I’m pumping around the clock, and drink a full 20oz jug of water during each pumping session.  Surely I’m getting enough water.  Tomorrow’s strategy includes incorporating prunes and apricots, and maybe forgoing the pain killers.

I will be glad when this part of the healing process is complete.

I have no idea what day it is, but today, the mailman rang the doorbell and left a package on my front porch.  I was attempting to nurse my little monkey, and my three year old decided he wanted to get the door, to which I vehemently objected, to which he belligerently disobeyed.  Oh, it’s so exasperating, trying to teach one this age why he can’t do certain things like answer the front door.  By himself.

But look at the goodness that arrived!  A gift from MsCellania!  Soft, warm fuzzies for both of my boys, so that BB wouldn’t feel left out.  And look at the adorable monkey fabrics, that are perfect for my new little monkey!

Thank you!!  I haven’t even told BB that the big race car blankie is for him — he’s still working on finishing his breakfast.  Yes, it’s 8:30 p.m.  He asked for a peanut butter and jam sandwich this morning, then ate about three bites and commenced a full day of play and mischief.  I bagged the sandwich and let it be known that that would be lunch, and if it didn’t get eaten then, it would be dinner.  So.  Dinner it is.  When he finishes, I’ll give him the blanket, and he will be delighted.  🙂

Thank you so much, M!!

This is all I had to show after a span of six hours.  Pathetic.  Things are improving.  They’ve gone from dismal to less dismal, but still pathetic.  Life in two hour increments was killing me.  It takes a full one of those hours to pump, decant, clean, feed, diaper, and burp, leaving the other hour to use the bathroom, sleep, shower, attend to the other child, etc etc etc.  So I switched to three hour compartments.  It’s so liberating!  That extra hour is pure wealth, and I can actually get reasonable naps in here and there.  I even made banana bread today, with such an abundance of time on my hands.

I’m the luckiest mom ever, because LB is the best baby.  He’s so content, except when diapering.  He has the biggest, brightest eyes, when they’re open.

He’s so laid back.  When he’s awake, he just kicks back and looks around, calm and content as can be. (Yes, I know the pictures are blurry; I thought they were in focus when I took them, but I’m living life in a blur right now, so what do I really know?)

BB, on the other hand, is proving to be quite a challenge, with the adjustments of late.  He’s a love, really, but his one year old cousin is here all week, and sharing attention and toys and life in general with so many others is a difficult thing for a three year old. I think he will do better when it’s back to just the four of us.  Even so, he does need to learn how to behave and obey, regardless of how many other people are here.  I let him pretend he was a baby last night, and snuggled him in my lap and spoon fed him his lunch, then tucked him in for a nap, and stroked his face and talked to him, telling him that’s what I used to do when he was a baby.  He really liked that moment of attention, and took a nice, long, refreshing nap.  It was very good for him, to get some rest.

I simply do not know how mothers of more than two can function.

First, I want to thank everyone for all the wonderful, sweet, and kind comments.  Thank you so!

We are home, safe and sound.  Our first stop, en route from hospital to home, was Costco, to fill the prescriptions.  It’s Labor Day weekend, and the last thing I wanted was to be home with no pain meds!  Because I’m a wuss.

Seriously, though, you know this attempted breastfeeding business is tough stuff if narcotics are necessary in order to bolster oneself enough to overcome the pain to try yet again.  And gosh, I’ve been trying.  The thing is, some will say that these giant babies still have teensy tiny tummies and can survive just fine on the meager quantities of colostrum produced until the milk comes in, but so far, not my boys.  No, they whither away at an alarming rate, plummeting past that x% normal baby weight drop, right on by, so the doctors recommend the alternate therapies begin.

I was all ready for this, though, and I started pumping in the hospital, just to see what was there, and to try and encourage things.  The lactation specialists were so good, too, and I was feeling so confident.  They noted that my milk was working its way down, and we had a plan to keep on pumping after feedings, use a supplemental tube to add the pumped milk to what the baby is trying to pull from the breast, and occasionally supplement with formula if necessary.  And some formula was necessary, at that point, due to the massive drop in weight.  The lactation specialist deemed that although LB doesn’t suck properly when there is no flow (and hence chomps the nipples mercilessly, just like his brother before him, resulting in bleeding, cracked, swollen, horrible protrusions that hurt like holy hell), once flow is present, he’ll switch his pattern to the normal suck.  Which is GOOD!  He can latch!  They estimated that I’d only have to use the tube for one or two days at most, because by then the milk would be flowing, and off we’d go.

So last night the boobs got all swollen, huge, and hard.  (I can only imagine what visitors Google might send my way, with that combination of words.)   Practically engorged, or what I remembered engorgement to be.  I was a bit surprised that this would happen, since I’m pumping regularly, every 2-3 hours, after each attempted feeding, and that’s supposed to help bypass the whole engorgement phase.  I assumed that the milk would come.  I knew that LB wasn’t getting much, because I couldn’t hear swallows, and he never switched to the sucking pattern, but continued chomping.  I expected to see more, once I pumped.  But no.

It has become too excruciating, even for me, and I actually have quite a high pain threshold, even though I called myself a wuss at the beginning of this post.  So I decided to take a break from nipple chomping, and just pump exclusively for a while to give things a chance to heal.  Meanwhile, the plan was to use the tube and my finger, to feed the expressed milk.  This is all under the assumption that there will be milk.

I’ve been pumping every two hours, and each time, what do I get?  A measly 10 mLs.  And that’s from BOTH breasts.  I brought out my diary from BB, and I was getting 30 mLs at this point, and I was distraught then, for that piddly amount, and my poor starving (giant of a) child.  (Who, we all know, is far far from starving, and is indeed a very robust boy!)

And then I noticed the whites of LB’s eyes turning yellow.  Jaundice.  Dear Lord, these things freak me out to the point where I want to curse these useless humongous bags of flesh.  All show and no go.  And really, hardly a worthwhile show at that.  I’ve been feeding LB every drop of expressed milk, and giving him as much formula as I can coax him to take.  Two days ago, the lactation consultant estimated he should be getting 45-55mL per feed, and feeding every 3 hours, increasing each day by another 10-15mL per feed.  So today he should be getting 70-90mL per feed.  I’m producing only about 120mL a DAY.

I’ve been trying all day to get him to eat, and have only managed to get him to take 40mL at any given feeding with the supplement tube, and at that, it takes a good hour and much coaxing.

So tonight I say, screw the nipple confusion, my boy must feed.  If I’m not making milk, I’m not making milk.  God knows why, or why not.  I’ll keep pumping like this and see what happens. Maybe there will be more milk.  Nature and science both say there should be.  We shall see.  In the mean time, bring on the formula, my boy must eat.  I got him to take 67 mLs, from a bottle, and it made me SO happy.  And afterwards, he stayed awake for a couple of hours, and I hope it’s not my imagination, but the whites of his eyes look more white.  I am relieved.

My beautiful, precious boy.

The apple of my eye.

Born 12:51 p.m. on 27 Aug 2008

10lbs 6oz at 38 weeks

We are well!

More to come…

I’m ready.  I’m NOT ready!  This is THE DAY.  The end of this journey and the beginning of the next.  The journey in which LB joins our family at last.

I’m not sure I can articulate my feelings, but I think it’s important that I try.  How can I begin to express my gratitude that I’ve been blessed to be a mother, twice over?  Two boys.  The mother of two beautiful boys.

There’s such a difference, from the baby leaving my body and coming out into the world.  The sheer sense of responsibility is almost overwhelming.  I know what it’s like, having been down this road with BB.  All the same.  Today, life will be much different.

Possibly some of this is the knowledge that this may truly be the end of this journey for me, that I will never be pregnant again, never carry another child, never bring a daughter into this world.

I don’t think I honestly want more than two — my body is not young, and there is much effort in raising children well.

Only a few hours more and our family of three becomes a family of four.  I suppose I am a bit terrified of what lies ahead, but for no good reason.  BB is nothing but a joy and delight.

A family of four!  How can it be anything but beautiful?!

I think perhaps the trepidation is merely that fear of change, of leaving one’s comfort zone and becoming accustomed to a new reality.

In a way, it’s like that feeling you get when you’re on a roller coaster, when you’re strapped in to the seat, motoring ever so slowly towards the peak, wondering to yourself why on earth you decided to get on this ride, and knowing that there’s no turning back and you absolutely must and will face the inevitable, that very, very soon you will be plummeting over the edge.  And as you drop, your fears crash through your stomach as you hurtle down, down, downward.  And then it’s over, and you’ve survived, and all is well.  (And sometimes you run right back, to queue for another go!)

So today, I’m nearing the precipice in this roller coaster seat, and the tension is rising in my throat.  In but a few hours, the drop.  And then it will all be over.  I will hold my precious new son in my arms, put him to my breast, and love him fiercely until the day I die.

A mother.  Again.  The dream of all my dreams, coming true.  How blessed I am.  How absolutely and completely blessed.

LB, my LB.  My dear, sweet LB.

LB and BB.  My boys.  My sons.

I am a mother.

So blessed.

A great spill marked the beginning of this pregnancy.  There have been pregnancies along the way in which clumsiness was one of the giveaway signs, even before I knew.  So it was this time.  I was painting my office and spilled the paint all over the carpet.  It was a colossal mess.  I remember joking to Gadget that it must mean I’m pregnant.  Not really believing it, since I’d taken a long expired round of Clomid, this being my last hurrah, and not expecting the drug to do much, if anything.  I took a test, anyway, which I think also happened to be the last of my test strips (having bought in bulk, and resigned myself to the fact that this was the last hurrah, not planning to buy any more…)

…and lo and behold, a positive.  So the story began.

Today, as we near the end of this pregnancy, indeed, this being the last full day, a great spill has again marked the occasion.  Clumsy, yes.  Because I keep forgetting just how much room this long load in front of me requires.  A full cup of tea (prepared nearly to Stomper Girl’s specifications, by the way, apart from the order of adding the milk, and the absence of sugar), spilled and splashed all over my desk.  My desk that is laden, mind you, with my work laptop, my home laptop, my docking station, keyboard, monitor, and two wireless mouse devices.  Tea.  Everywhere.  And of course I’m no speedster, so it took a few long moments to fetch towels from the kitchen.

I think I fried my personal laptop bluetooth mouse.  I only hope that I did no harm to either of the laptops.  They seem to be functioning, apart from the mouse situation.

Yesterday’s bout of contractions hasn’t repeated itself, thank goodness.  There are occasional contractions, but not hours of regularly spaced ones.  Which is a relief.  Heartburn remains, along with bouts of either extreme hunger or lack of appetite.  How strange for it to swing like that.  Only one full dose of insulin tonight, and a half dose in the morning, and hopefully that will be the end of the injections.

This time tomorrow I’ll be snuggling a beautiful little boy.  It’s hard to fathom.  Truly.

Wowsers, that’s a lot of flesh and unfriendly bulge for internet photos.  Very brave.  Or stupid.  (Edited to post a more flattering picture.)  I just want to capture this time, if possible, so I’ve been trying to take some final pictures of this immense belly, but it’s hard with poor lighting and just a mirror.  The thing is, Gadget, bless his beautiful heart, can’t focus to save his life (neither can I, apparently), and I’m not a very good artistic director, and I’d rather keep the peace at this point in life and marriage.

This morning I had the amnio.  It took three people!  The technologist used the ultrasound to find the best spot, my doctor readied the needles, and another doctor held another ultrasound wand/needle guide thing.  It was quite an impressive effort, to capture that precious fluid.  The thing is, once they found the spot and my doctor gave me the lidocaine shot to numb the spot in preparation for the big needle, LB moved.  Stinker!  So they had to start again.  Then he gave me another lidocaine shot, and LB moved again, plus, there was a problem with the big needle, so he had to get another one, and then they didn’t have another one in the room, so had to go find another kit.  In the mean time, guess who moved?  So finally, they got the big needle in, and it hurt, as it would, since it penetrated the uterus and caused some discomfort.  Then they couldn’t see the needle on the ultrasound, so they had to poke further, which pinched more.  But they quickly acquired the fluid they needed, and rushed it off via courier to the University hospital where they do the fluorescence check.  Meanwhile, I went to triage for non-stress-testing and observation, during which time I had several contractions, and LB did gymnastics.  As he does.  I was cleared to leave after an hour or so.  All in all, I was gone three hours for this, and not long after I arrived home, my doctor called to report that the numbers are good, LB’s lungs are mature enough for delivery, and all systems are go for Wednesday.

Woohoo!!

I finished my work day, then realized that I’ve been having regular contractions.  Off to Doctor Google I scurried, to find out whether I should be alarmed or not.  I’ve never had regular contractions during 3rd trimester, so don’t know what to expect.  BB never dropped, nor gave any indication that he was interested in leaving his watery world.  But LB.  Oh, my LB.  He is riding low and pressuring me, and causing me to feel the need to, er, empty my instestines.  Plus contracting every 5 minutes.  Luckily, Doctor Google advises that unless the contractions last 60 seconds or longer, then there’s no need to scurry to the hospital.  Mine are about 20-30 seconds.

It would appear that these are the famed Braxton Hicks that I’ve heard so much about but never experienced.  At least, that is my hope.  Because I really just want to go to the hospital at the prescribed time on the prescribed day per the prescribed plan, because I like my schedules and plans.  I like that kind of order in my universe.

Nevertheless, the bags are ready, and the last work items that I have left can be left if need be.  I can log in and set up my official out of office messages, and that will only take a few minutes.  I’ve got them all prepped and ready to go.

Luckily, and with a great sense of relief, the wave of contractions seems to have subsided, so I may be fine.  It’s just a bit alarming, thinking that this baby might be ready before I am!

I did a wild and adventurous thing (for me) early this year, and traveled across the globe to Australia, to see dear friends, and meet new ones face to face. All in the first trimester. I’ve spent quite some time in first trimester, and have only gone beyond it twice.

I tried to remain hopeful and positive and not allow stress and worry to take too much hold, and I allowed myself to buy something for the baby. A kit for a beautiful hand-felted rainbow woolen dragon. Months passed, the pregnancy progressed, and all along I intended to make the dragon. I made other dragons. Even one for the baby. But not the dragon. Until now.

And now that it’s finished, I think that it is more for me, than for the baby. It symbolizes this journey, from beginning to end, and that we have made it! That we are ready! I dared to hope and my dreams have come true. I am about to be the mother of two. Two beautiful boys. Two beautiful children. Two amazing people whose mere being adds much joy and love to this earth.

For perspective. It’s a wee little dragon, this. BB is snuggled next to me as I write, and says, “That’s my dragon, and that’s your dragon!” He’s been such a love lately, and I’ve been trying to snuggle and nuzzle and spend time with him as much as possible, hoping to fill him with security in knowing how important he is to me, and that even though priorities will soon change with LB’s arrival, there is enough Mommy and enough LOVE to share all around (even though it may seem that LB will be getting most of the attention for a while).

I may yet write a letter to LB, before he’s born. I want to tell him about our journey. His journey. I want him to know how much he is wanted, and how blessed we are to have him, how our family is that much more beautiful, because of him.

• I’ve gained 17 pounds during this pregnancy. I like that LB has managed to gobble up some of my fat stores.
• My belly cast was a miserable failure. It was going well and looking sweet, and I was getting excited about how neat it was going to be, but there was a problem with gravity, boobs, and the drying process, and the fact that I was doing this alone didn’t help. I made a colossal mess of the bathroom, and left it for my dear cleaning girl to take care of. How opportune. There is more material and I can try it again, but I’m leaning towards capturing the art form photographically instead. I did take a picture of me wrapped in Glad Press-N-Seal, but won’t be sharing that, thank you. And, much as it was recommended as a good barrier for body casting, one ought to mention that it might not be the best idea to stick it to sensitive tissue like, say, for instance, one’s nipples. Ahem.
• I took a sick day to rest, since I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night lately, for at least 3 hour stretches. Thursday I started my workday (from home) at 4 a.m., since I was up anyway. That night I was up from 1-4 a.m. So it was good to take a Friday breather. Monday I have my amnio, and will work from home after that, and Tuesday I’ll work from home as well.
• …and then it will be Wednesday!!!!!! LB arrives to grace us all with his beautiful presence.