The After Party

Now that my son is two months old, so much has changed in my life. Liam, of course, is still amazing. He sleeps through the night now, which is just a huge treat for me. He's down around 10PM, and up at 5AM on the penny! I change him and feed him, and then I'm up for work and out the door. Am I tired...yes. Is it worth it...yes. I see him for such a short time during the evenings, I look forward to the mornings when I can see him just one more time.

Christmas is coming.  And I've put up a Christmas tree in his room, because I can.  It seems like everything about the holidays has hit me differently this year.  And it's not because I cry at Christmas songs and candlelight services.  OR when I hear about Mary laboring in a stable, and I mourn for her lack of yoga ball and jacuzzi.

 



I think the bottom line is- I don't want to share my son.  And I don't want to share his first Christmas.  I want to be greedy and keep it all to myself and Andy.  I don't want anyone to hold him.  I don't want anyone to see things before we see them.  I don't want to dress up.  I don't want the hustle and bustle.  I just want to...be.

Andy's parents are coming, and his brother.  In her hysteria when leaving us after Liam was born, Andy's mom vowed she'd be there for every holiday.  They'd never miss anything again, so make room for them!  And then Thanksgiving came and went...with excuses.  And now Christmas is here and...low and behold, more excuses!  So it's any one's guess if they're coming, but as of now all signs point to yes.

We bought very few gifts this year, with a budget of $0, we had to make the money stretch.  I've been trying to make gifts here and there, but with an infant in my arms, it's been difficult.  Now at less than two weeks away, I'm a little panicked.
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I think if I were to make my millions of dollars writing something, I'd write a book called, "What to Expect After You've Expected" because nobody seems to touch on any of the things you'll experience afterwards.  Like, not just a few weeks after, but a few months after.  And then a few years later.

In my current experience, I'm having a hard time keeping two thoughts together.  I'll be staring at something at work, and realize that I have no idea how long I've been looking at it.  My mind will just wander around like a hobo.  It happens everywhere and in every facet of my day.  It's like a baby stroke happened to me and I can't remember anything or focus anymore.

As I start back to my old routine, I'm embarrassed to go to the gym.  When I do squats in front of the mirror, my belly bulges out funny under my belly button.  When I change in the locker room, I do it in the bathroom stall so nobody can see all my stretch marks.  They're red and ugly.  My hips are bigger than before, so many of my pants have been donated based on the fact that I can't get them beyond my knees.

My hair is falling out.  My luxurious, pregnancy induced, blond, beautiful hair.  I can't leave the shower without hand fulls of it clogging my drain.  This is frustrating for the sake of vanity.  Along with all the break outs I've had in the past month.  It's literally like 16 all over again.

Perhaps the most frustrating of it all is going #2 is not #1.  If I could use one word to sum up my #2 experience it would be "ouch."  Profound, huh?  Well.  It's true.  Because you're using all the same muscles to push your child into the world, you end up sporting these hemorrhoids that make you want to sing the Star Spangled Banner every time you eat fiber.  The midwife had given me some cream stuff, but that doesn't treat the internal variety, which cause you to gush blood every time you...take the kids to the pool.  So to speak.  And I make light of it here, but it's a very real thing.  There's no prevention either so.  Just know this may be in your future.

Hormones.  What crazy characters THESE are.  They make you cry at Folgers commercials.  They make you hate your husband.  They make you cling to your baby like a life preserver.  Things that never made me bat an eye in the past are now world shattering issues because of those little things called "hormones."  They cause you to have these night sweats that put my husband's normally hot blood to shame.  I wake up drenched on a regular basis.  They cause you to have these insane dreams where you could swear they were actually happening in front of your eyes, and make you upset for the rest of the day.  Hormones.

And this is the after party.  Everyone expects their jeans not to fit, but nobody expects the rest.  And nobody wants to talk about it either.  Except for me.  Because it's my blog.

Do I know you from somewhere?

Liam is such a little man.  He's clocking in just shy of 10 lbs now, and a bunch of his clothing finally fits him.  So that's just such an incredible feeling.  Of course I dress him in little man clothing- shoes and all.

 

 

After the baby is born, there comes a moment where you realize you were not alone in all of this.  And I'm not talking about something supernatural or something religious, I'm talking about the realization that you do in fact have a husband.  Where is he?  You don't remember him leaving for any reason.  He must be here somewhere...

 

The last memories you have of your husband are the one where he was holding your left leg up so you could push your child out.  And even THAT is fuzzy.

 

You consider a missing persons report, but then you find him in your parent's kitchen on a Sunday afternoon.  And you reach up to hug him, and you realize...hey, I can touch you again.  As in, all your parts line up again.  There's no baby there anymore.  And you both share a laugh because it occurs to you simultaneously that you haven't felt this in a long time.

 

There also comes a point, after your six week post partum check up, that you realize it's been a REALLY long time since you've enjoyed the activity that got you into this in the first place.  And your husband has missed it as well- most likely MORE than you have missed it. 

 

The moment the baby leaves the snuggle nest between "his side" and "her side," and graduates to the bassinet, you bridge the gap the baby occupied.  And you find your husband there.  And his arm slips around you like old times, and everything is FAMILIAR.  And then you start to cry, because you're 1) a HUGE sap now that all your hormones are slowly going back to normal, 2) there is something very nostalgic about the three of you sharing a room- like THIS is what family is like.  And 3) you come to the realization that you love your husband very, very much. 

 

Then the baby starts to cry.  Your magic moment is now snapped back into reality.

 

However, you can't refuse your husbands advances forever.  If you have a husband who is normally tender and gentle, you should be fine.  IF not.  You need to do some talking.  Serious talking.  He needs to understand that this is not going to be a walk in the park for you, and it's going to need to be low and slow.  Without disclosing too many of the aspects of my personal experience (because many of you need to continue to be able to look me and my husband in the eyes when you see us...) I'll let you know what you need to know.

 

First off, you need to know you're more fertile now than ever.  And unless you want your children 12 months apart, you need to use extra protection.  For those of us who got pregnant on the first try, this is especially important.  Talk to your doctor at your 6 week appointment about what's best for you.  I'm not allowed to do birth control pills yet because of my low milk supply.  Instead, we've invested in condoms and spermicide to make double sure we don't have any surprises.

 

Next let's talk about that breast feeding stuff while we're talking milk supply.  While you breast feed, you will most likely NOT get a period.  This is NOT birth control.  This is a luxury, so enjoy it.  But if you're used to "doing the math" for birth control, it's not going to work because there's nowhere to start.  No period?  Can't tell if you're really pregnant.  It's not a cool feeling, so I suggest you do what it takes to be safe.

 

Lube it up, girlfriends.  Invest some money in something you can both use, and then use it.  Don't be shy.  You are naturally a little drier after giving birth, so this is totally normal.  Especially if you're using condoms- they can be irritating.  So please take my advice and astro-glide yourself up.

 

Don't expect to "arrive"...if you catch my drift.  Either one of you.  You need to build up to something that's comfortable to both of you.  Let the process be the experience.  Speak your mind before hand, and do not be afraid to say STOP if it's not working for you.  Things will be back to normal at some point, and believe it or not, your husband will survive.

 

This is all I have to say on this topic at this time.  Because I'm still living it.  Because I'm not talking in past tense, I'm talking currently.  I'm told by women who have had their children four to eight months ago tell me it gets better.  That you will be better than ever as a couple if you lay low and wait it out.  I'm looking forward to this.  Not that my Handsome Husband and I are super struggling, but I am still looking for normal.  New normal.  How can I be a wife and a mother at the same time?  I'll fill you in when I figure it out.

Back to where we started

There's something really nerve wracking about taking your infant BACK to the hospital, especially after you just got him home.

He came home on the 8th, and we took him back on the 11th.  By that time his bili levels were just so high and he was losing so much weight, he had to go under the lights.  Normally in this case they would deliver a bili blanket to your house and you would do the therapy at home.  But my insurance wouldn't cover it.  So back to the hospital we went.
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I guess what scared us the most was the manner in which they told us to come back to the hospital.

We were at the doctors that day, and they suggested we go to the lab directly to get his levels checked.  They pricked his little heel and it wasn't so bad.

My aunt and uncle came a far distance that night to see Liam, and around 8PM, during their visit, the phone rang.  It was the pediatrician.  She said they had already called the hospital and we were to take Liam there and enter through the ER.  They would send us up to the pediatrics floor where a room would be waiting for him.  They had pre-registered him, so there would be no need to do anything but just bring him in.

Doesn't that sound pretty intense?  Like, time is of the essence, intense?  My family left quickly and we restocked the hospital bags from labor that weren't even unpacked yet.  The baby started screaming.  I was (once again) just crying so hard.  And the Handsome Husband just held me.  We stopped at McDonalds on the way back to Harrisburg, and like Mary and Joseph, we made our escape to the big city with the man child.
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We were so thankful for the staff at our hospital.  We got there, walked through the creepy people in the ER, took an elevator up to the peds floor, and the nurse at the door said, "This must be Liam!  Your room is waiting for you!"  And sure enough, there was a room glowing blue just for us.  They didn't waste time stripping him down to his little diaper and putting little felt sunglasses on him and sticking him under the lights.  Except, the glasses didn't stick, so they put a little headband around his head.  Poor Liam looked like he was being interrogated by Iraqi terrorists.

 

 

The nurses woke me up every two hours to feed him, which meant no sleep for me.  They continued to take his bili levels through the night.  In the morning a team of doctors came in to see him.  They were students from Hershey Med and since Liam was the only infant on the floor, he was quite the celebrity.  The pediatrician came and gave us our walking papers and we were home before supper.

He's fine now- five weeks after the fact- and gaining weight like a pro and pooping and everything else a baby should be doing.  But in the meantime, he gave us a little "new parent" scare.  (Come to find out, every single one of my mommy friends had the same situation with their little ones).

Funny thing though.  When we were on the peds floor, we could see the Harrisburg city skyline from our room.  Standing out, amidst the roofs of apartment and office buildings and the the steam and exhaust rising from the business, was the Market Square Presbyterian Church steeple.  We attended that church for quite a while in college, so I know they pride themselves with their outstanding steeple.  Amazing how something as overlooked as a steeple can make such an impact on a frantic mother as she's praying her son isn't really really sick.  But it can.  And it does.

Breast Feeding 101

 

When your baby breastfeeds, it looks a lot like he or she is telling a very important secret to your boobie.

 

When I fed Liam for the first time, as shown below, I didn't know if he was getting anything or not.  You think to yourself- how does my body know that NOW is the time for the milking?

 

 

 

Some women will tell you that breastfeeding is the most beautiful thing you can do for your child.  That it's natural and it's precious and special.

 

I'm going to be just so honest with you- I'm not one of those women yet.

 

I know the benefits of breast feeding, and I am 100% sure that it really is the best for your child.  And I was, and still am 100% dedicated to breastfeeding Liam 100% of the time...but it turns out that I can't.

 

Friends of mine had resorted to formula, and I scoffed at them.  "I will be breast feeding EXCLUSIVELY."  I haughtily announced when I heard their tales of low milk supply, babies that would not latch, and pumping woes.  There would be no foreign MAN MADE substances entering the tiny stomach of this exquisite human being I would soon be birthing.  I gave away the coupons I received in the mail and donated the formula samples I would clearly not be needing.

 

I went to the classes.  Oh the classes.  I was clearly fully prepared for the daunting task of feeding my son from the breast.  So when they put him on my chest, cleaned up and ready to eat, I wasn't surprised when he latched on and went to town.

 

I fed him like a pro every two hours at the hospital.  You could have set your clock by me and my amazing, nourishment providing tatas.  I wasn't aware of the pain that would come with breastfeeding, and I'm not talking about nipples.  (...although that doesn't feel pleasant either at first...)  But your uterus contracts as you are feeding, and it feels like a very long menstrual cramp.  I combat this with a heating pad.  The next thing you notice is nausea.  I'm told it's not every woman that experiences this, but I certainly did.  The oxytocin your body produces is what does this.  There's nothing you can do except grin and bear it.  Sipping water helps, but I'm also told some women throw up.  So be warned.

 

Liam's second day in this world he slept allllll day.  No feedings.  Not at huge deal, since my milk didn't come in yet so I wasn't facing engorgement.  But then that night he "cluster fed"- a new term to me.  Every 45 minutes he was screaming and I was feeding.  From about 8PM, until roughly 6AM the next morning when the doctor took him to be circumcised.  I was so happy to see him go so I could just sleep.  So Andy could sleep.  My nipples hurt like mad.  I was bruised because my new little guy turned out to be a vulture and sucked like crazy. 

 

The day after we got home from the hospital, I had chest pains I couldn't get rid of.  I couldn't breathe.  An hour later, Andy quietly told me to go upstairs and change my shirt.  It was soaked.  My milk had come in.  As I'm typing this, I'm chuckling a little, because it sounds so funny.  My milk came in.  It was out- but then it was in.  But I was a ball of hormones and I just cried instead.

 

Then Liam started losing weight.  Lots of weight.  He went from 7lbs 14 oz down to 7 lbs 0.5 oz in a week.  He was jaundiced.  He wasn't pooping.  He kept growing longer, but slimming down.  He was in the 78th percentile for length, but only the 17th for weight.  The pediatrician told me it was time to supplement.  The word hung in the room.  She came back with a bottle of the "f" word.  Formula.  I started to sob.  She might as well have been giving my son poison, because that's how I felt.  Liam sucked down that Similac like he hadn't eaten in days.  And by rights, he hadn't.  I couldn't provide for him.  I wasn't making enough.  I felt like I had been starving my son.

 

Andy held me.  He knew.  "It's just supplementing, whoot.  It doesn't mean you stop feeding him.  It means we need help."  He said, "This isn't about you, it's about Liam."  He reminded me.  So two ounces a feeding would come from formula, and then the rest would come from me.  And I have to be honest with you- it was the best choice we ever made.  Andy could feed him the two ounces and I would do the rest.  And before we knew it, he was back up to birth weight and there was no more jaundice.  He was happy, I was happy, the pediatrician was happy.

 

Turns out, my mom had the same problem.  Turns out, I was the same way.  Turns out, I'm okay.  Turns out, Liam will be too.

Home Sweet Home

October 8th, 2012- Happy Birthday to ME!  And home we go.

They circumcised Liam on the day we were discharged.  I was very nervous about this.  Because for some reason I just pictured them handing me this little screaming person with a little bloody diaper and I wouldn't be able to calm him and he'd be in so much pain...  But none of that happened.  When he came back to us, he was asleep and bathed swaddled and just as content as could be.  I was instructed to put gauze with Vaseline on his little peep every time we changed him, so as not to stick to the diaper.  And that's what we did and it wasn't hard at all.

Andy made three trips to the car to bring out all we had accumulated on our visit.  It was summer when we went in, I swear it.  But it was brisk and autumn when we were released.  Andy pulled the car to the curb and the attendant wheeled me out with Liam on my lap in the carrier.  (Turns out, I'm not allowed to lift the baby AND the carrier).

The little 0-3 month size jacket I had bought and packed with care was WAY too big on him.  We ended up stopping at Carters on the way home and buying him two little newborn jackets, because he was just so small!  (Take THAT, all the naysayers who were saying I was going to birth a small toddler.  Whatever.)

We realized about two minutes from the hospital that we were suddenly famished.  I suggested Red Robin.  "What do we do with the baby?"  Andy inquired.  "Well, I'm imagining we take him in with us."  I replied.

To see us entering Red Robin, you may have thought we were smuggling small explosive devices in the restaurant.  Andy parked away from the other cars.  We covered the carrier with a large, heavy blanket.  I walked ahead of Andy, eyes attuned to every passing car- every shifty eye- every well meaning old lady who may dare to ask, "How old is your baby?"  To which I would have answered, "What baby?  This is a small explosive device." 

We were seated immediately and we ordered when the waitress first came to our table.  Andy kept the baby carrier on his side of the booth- good call.  He was bigger in case anyone tried to abduct our son right in front of us.  We both sat at the table looking like deer in headlights.  Our hospital bands were displayed proudly on our wrists- medals of honor.  We checked under the blanket every 35 seconds.  Was he breathing?  Touch him to make sure.  Was he cold?  Touch him to make sure.  Perhaps too hot?  Better touch him.  Did his left eye just open?  Maybe if you would just touch him...

The food came.  We inhaled it.  Andy was still grabbing extra fries as he was running back out the door, carrier in hand.  He pitched me his wallet.  "Okay, We're out of here.  Pay the bill and I'll meet you in the car."  He held the carrier and ran for the door.  It was practically a hostage situation.  People were staring.  I think a few people already had the 9 and first 1 typed in on their iPhones, ready to press the second 1 and report a suspicious situation at the Hershey Red Robin.

The poor waitress.  I explained to her the situation and tipped her well.  She probably thought something was really the matter, and that's the truth. 

Turns out, every idiot driver was on the road that day, according to my husband.  They were all out, and they were all driving erratically and they were ALL out to get us.  We, on the other hand, were model citizens.  We stopped at every red light.  Every stop sign was followed, stopping BEHIND the white line.  Looking both ways.  We proceeded with caution.  10 and 2 on the wheel.  Speed limits were not suggestions- they were the law.  When we finally got home, I felt like we had just traveled from Africa.  I was THAT exhausted from the trip.

We scrambled in the house and closed the door behind us.  Home Sweet Home.

And the rest, as they say...

There's no sleeping in the hospital.  I realized this very quickly.

I couldn't feel my legs for about three hours afterwards.  I had to pee.  They had to put a thingy in there to relieve me.  Doesn't that sound gross?  After they cleaned me up and everything,

First of all, everyone wants to come visit you.  You don't want visitors.  You may want your mom, you may want your dad.  You MAY even want a close friend or two.  What you do NOT want, are people sitting on the floor of your room.  And in the hallway.  And people who have recently had babies are the only ones who know this.

It started with my parents and my in laws.  So as not to create commotion, they all drove together as soon as the inlaws came in, and everyone saw the baby at the same time.  It was our wish not to have ANYONE in L and D but the two of us.  So we called them as soon as we were in our room and they showed up, and there were tears and it was fine.  My friend Alison (who had Baby Grace not but four weeks prior in the same hospital) came and gifted us a HUGE bag of incidentals.  "Here's everything you probably forgot!"  She exclaimed.

Later that night, my wonderful cousin Jodie came and brought us a huge bouquet of dahlias, and everyone commented on their beauty.  The parents took Andy for supper.  Then it was quiet.  Andy and I walked around the floor with Liam in the isolate, and we were a happy little family.

Sunday was a different story.

I got up, showered for the first time, got that STUPID IV out, washed my hair, put on a new night gown, and laid back in bed again.  The room smelled less like a hospital with the aromas of shampoo and conditioners floating around in it.  Andy showered and shaved and for the first time in 48 hours, we felt human again.  Amazing that a little bottle of face wash and a blow dryer could make ya feel SO good!  Turns out, I did forget conditioner and Alison remembered it in her bag of wonders, and for that I could have kissed her square on the lips.

Between 3:00 and 8:00 we had about 500 visitors.  Maybe 550.  Who's counting?  I think the Obama's showed up, but I haven't read the registry in the baby book so I can't remember.  People out the door.  People taking turns to hold and snuffle my little son.  They all came at the same time, and they all stayed.

At one point, I left the room because it was hot and I was irritable.  Outside I met a girl- just shy of maybe 16.  MAYBE.  Maybe 100 lbs.  MAYBE.  Her hair was greasy and hombre with pink tips.  Everything that could be pierced was- lip, nose, ears.  She was walking down the hall painfully slow- a little pink bundle in her isolate, her mom by her side.  "Your daughter is adorable!"  I said to her.  I expected her to be defiant and loud.  Instead she was quiet and reserved.  Her words came out with a speech impediment.  Immediately I thought- oh dear one, who did this to you?  But she quietly told me her little girl was three weeks early.  She had an emergency C-section.  And without a second thought, she carefully lifted her gown to reveal her incision.

I don't know what happened next.  I don't remember the name of the baby.  I'd like to say that I held her in my arms and we cried and time stopped and...and I'd love to say all of that.  But none of it would be true.

What did happen is I looked back into our hospital room and I heard the din of all my family and friends in there (and piling out the door).  I saw phones raised, people snapping pictures of each other holding Liam.  I saw Andy's huge smile, sporting his "Liam's Daddy" shirt I had made for him. 

What DID happen, is that I turned back to see everyone I loved and cared about joining together to celebrate the birth of my tiny son.  How did I get so blessed?

Everyone left at 8, and the room was finally quiet.  We looked around at the balloons and stuffed animals and flowers and I'm pretty sure I cried.  And Liam cried.  And cried.  And cried.  And it was perfect.  Exhausting.  But.  Perfect.

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