At the infant massage class I talked about in the last entry all the other moms were breastfeeding their babies and we were the only couple bottle-feeding (with formula, no less.) I had some angsty pangs about that which irritated me since I've stressed to myself a million times that bottle-feeding Essie is NO BIG DEAL.
Well, apparently I didn't believe myself, but I think my issue is more with the opinions of other parents than it is with Essie or her health. Essie is obviously thriving, getting fatter and happier and healthier all the time. My angst stems from the fact that I feel like I may be looked down on for my 'choice'.
It wasn't much of a choice. Essie resisted breastfeeding very strongly. I was never happy with pumping at any point anyhow, and when my milk supply got harder and harder to maintain it got a lot easier to mix formula and bottle-feed her; something she was entirely content with. Instead of an agitated, unhappy baby at every feeding I had a happy, satisfied baby. It made sense to me.
I could explain that to anyone I suspect might be raising a mental brow at me when they see us bottle-feeding, but since I am a paranoid person at the best of times it's more likely that there are no mental brows and I'm being overly sensitive to perceived prejudice. While Essie was at the hospital, though, the pressure to breastfeed or at least pump breastmilk for bottle feeding was overt, and I've heard from other new moms that even with a regular, non-preemie birth there is still great pressure placed on them to breastfeed over anything else. So I do get anxious that the moms who have bought into it and think that anything less is wrong will be judging me when they see me with a bottle.
All that said, I was very aware of the fact that at the massage class Andrew was the only dad who also fed his baby, and I'm pretty sure he was the only dad who burped his baby (although I could be wrong on that one.) It's a positive about this bottle-feeding business that I'm appreciating more and more. It affords me more freedom, yes, but it also allows Andrew to bond with Essie and take on aspects of her care that he wouldn't otherwise be likely to. I love that when we're all in bed together she'll lay there quietly watching him for long, long stretches, just staring at him. He gets great smiles from her and she'll do all she can to catch his attention when he's absorbed in something.
So I guess I need to let go of feeling so self-conscious about not breastfeeding Ess. I am aware of so many positives as a result of bottle-feeding that it's just stupidly self-indulgent at this point to think it's any big deal, especially since it's having no adverse affects on the one it matters to most: our daughter.
Showing posts with label breastfeeding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breastfeeding. Show all posts
Monday, July 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
GrrrRAHrahrargharghARGH.
We took Essie over to Maysie and Dan's for the first time the other night. I was really looking forward to introducing her to Dan, who had not yet met her, and just chilling with friends since we hadn't done so since she came home.
It was a great night and she was lovely. Emma also came over so she got to meet her, and everyone who wanted to got a chance to hold her. At one point, though, Maysie said that she was surprised I got any sleep co-sleeping with her like I do since she's so noisy.
I was a bit bemused since I actually hadn't even noticed her making much noise while we were hanging out. What's very possible is that I've just gotten used to her particular brand of noise and am tuning it out. But THEN the next day I was on the phone with my mom and Essie was beside me making her poop growl, which is the gutteral growl she makes when she's trying very hard to poop. Mom was all, "Is she OK? She sounds upset." I assured her that no, she's not upset. She's just narrating her life. Loudly.
She doesn't get upset to the point of inconsolable crying so far. The closest she comes is when we're attempting a nursing session and as soon as she starts making the high-pitched shriek noise I stop and we switch to bottle feeding. I think, though, that this nursing balderdash is teaching her to cry more quickly than she would if we weren't still persisting. Or at least if I weren't still persisting. I have been purposely not talking about the nursing situation these days, so that's all I'll say about that.
But noisy; yes. I honestly do not mind the kind of noisy she is currently. I mean, this served her very well in the NICU where the squeaky wheel was definitely more likely to get greased. Her nurses (and those who didn't have her) all knew her trademark growl. At St. Mikes one nurse told me that she'd went prowling around the room to find which baby was making such a noise and fix whatever was wrong, only to find Essie just growling to herself for no apparent reason. I was tickled by it then and I still am, since it's obvious just by looking at her that she's not in any distress, she's just talking in her baby way about the situation. When there's something bugging her she still growls and groans, but kicks it up a notch or two without resorting to screaming or anything like that.
I fully expect her to find her crying voice sometime very, very soon. Her due date is coming up within the week and any money one day she'll suddenly start with the regular baby cry and leave her tiny bear growls behind. I will miss them so, so much.
It was a great night and she was lovely. Emma also came over so she got to meet her, and everyone who wanted to got a chance to hold her. At one point, though, Maysie said that she was surprised I got any sleep co-sleeping with her like I do since she's so noisy.
I was a bit bemused since I actually hadn't even noticed her making much noise while we were hanging out. What's very possible is that I've just gotten used to her particular brand of noise and am tuning it out. But THEN the next day I was on the phone with my mom and Essie was beside me making her poop growl, which is the gutteral growl she makes when she's trying very hard to poop. Mom was all, "Is she OK? She sounds upset." I assured her that no, she's not upset. She's just narrating her life. Loudly.
She doesn't get upset to the point of inconsolable crying so far. The closest she comes is when we're attempting a nursing session and as soon as she starts making the high-pitched shriek noise I stop and we switch to bottle feeding. I think, though, that this nursing balderdash is teaching her to cry more quickly than she would if we weren't still persisting. Or at least if I weren't still persisting. I have been purposely not talking about the nursing situation these days, so that's all I'll say about that.
But noisy; yes. I honestly do not mind the kind of noisy she is currently. I mean, this served her very well in the NICU where the squeaky wheel was definitely more likely to get greased. Her nurses (and those who didn't have her) all knew her trademark growl. At St. Mikes one nurse told me that she'd went prowling around the room to find which baby was making such a noise and fix whatever was wrong, only to find Essie just growling to herself for no apparent reason. I was tickled by it then and I still am, since it's obvious just by looking at her that she's not in any distress, she's just talking in her baby way about the situation. When there's something bugging her she still growls and groans, but kicks it up a notch or two without resorting to screaming or anything like that.
I fully expect her to find her crying voice sometime very, very soon. Her due date is coming up within the week and any money one day she'll suddenly start with the regular baby cry and leave her tiny bear growls behind. I will miss them so, so much.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
More woe in B**bland.
While Essie was at St. Mike's I was concerned about the supply of milk they had on hand for her. When we transferred there WCH sent over a bag of bottles of stocked milk left over from what I'd pumped for them and I was surprised at the size of it since I'd actually thought they'd have less. Then my supply got low for a bit there after the transfer and one day I asked Essie's nurse how much they had left. She LIED to me and said only what I'd brought in since the day before, which was about eight 80ml bottles worth.
I didn't know she was a LIAR so this freaked me out. I had given them permission to give Essie formula if they ever ran out of my milk, but I still figured it was optimal for her diet to stay the same. So, I did my best to keep pumping and bringing milk in and while I wasn't getting huge amounts, my supply did improve a bit. I estimated that I was meeting her daily needs just barely with what I was bringing in.
You can imagine my surprise on the day we took Essie home and a nurse came out with a big old bag of frozen breast milk and handed it to me. It looked to be about as much as had been sent over by WCH, and it turned out that it was mostly made up of the milk I'd expressed there. There was some newer stuff in there, but not much. So, it appeared they'd been using the newer stuff I was pumping and leaving the older (but still good) milk. I have no idea why; all I know is that they LIED TO ME and said they were out of milk when really they had a good supply on hand.
Whatever the reason, I am actually very thankful to have this bag of milk because things have been difficult in the land of breastfeeding. Essie is still having no success with nursing at all, and I've been having supply problems yet again. I'm trying to express after every feeding but it's not encouraging right now.
In the interests of trying to make it work I visited the La Leche League International website to see what they had to say. There is some awesome advice there on getting resistant babies to nurse and it was comforting to read that it's not that she doesn't want to nurse. I can tell that she'd nurse if she could figure it out since she roots and makes all the physical signals that tell me so. Anyhow, there was a lot of good stuff to read and I plan to put a lot of it into practice.
In doing my research there, though, I came across some things that upset me a bit. LLL is known for their strict stance on breastfeeding and only breastfeeding and they are big believers in nipple confusion. They don't think a baby should be introduced to any kind of fake nipples at all and that doing so will result in the baby getting turned off of the real thing since it's actually a bit more work for them to nurse for real rather than bottle feed. Fake nipples include both bottle nipples and soothers.
Before Essie made her dramatic appearance I was not convinced I'd encourage her to use a soother at all. However, she came early and had to endure being a preemie. The reason preemies are given soothers when they're in a NICU is so that they'll have a form of self-soothing since they're so isolated from the regular physical comfort and touch that most humans receive at birth. Do you think that there is any way on this planet that I'd hear that and say, "Oh, no, please don't give her a soother. I don't want her to be able to comfort herself if it means difficulty when I try to nurse her later."
Is that honestly a choice to some mothers? If there are mothers out there who would choose that over their premature, sick little baby having a way to comfort themselves during a painful, frightening time then I seriously would like to put the beatdown on them.
Oh, sorry, am I being NORMATIVE? I might be. But as much as this breastfeeding frustration sucks, I'm sure that being born too soon, intubated, stuck with IV pokes all over her arms and feet, having repeated painful eye exams, feeding tubes stuck down her throat, having to wear an uncomfortable CPAP and enduring many, many other things I wasn't even aware of sucked EVEN WORSE for Shaughnessy and she didn't even have the perspective of knowing why it was all happening. All she had was whatever instinctive physical defense she was capable of.
If they'd told me that the only form of comfort possible for her was a bong hit every hour, you'd better believe I'd have been in there lighting it up for her.
I didn't know she was a LIAR so this freaked me out. I had given them permission to give Essie formula if they ever ran out of my milk, but I still figured it was optimal for her diet to stay the same. So, I did my best to keep pumping and bringing milk in and while I wasn't getting huge amounts, my supply did improve a bit. I estimated that I was meeting her daily needs just barely with what I was bringing in.
You can imagine my surprise on the day we took Essie home and a nurse came out with a big old bag of frozen breast milk and handed it to me. It looked to be about as much as had been sent over by WCH, and it turned out that it was mostly made up of the milk I'd expressed there. There was some newer stuff in there, but not much. So, it appeared they'd been using the newer stuff I was pumping and leaving the older (but still good) milk. I have no idea why; all I know is that they LIED TO ME and said they were out of milk when really they had a good supply on hand.
Whatever the reason, I am actually very thankful to have this bag of milk because things have been difficult in the land of breastfeeding. Essie is still having no success with nursing at all, and I've been having supply problems yet again. I'm trying to express after every feeding but it's not encouraging right now.
In the interests of trying to make it work I visited the La Leche League International website to see what they had to say. There is some awesome advice there on getting resistant babies to nurse and it was comforting to read that it's not that she doesn't want to nurse. I can tell that she'd nurse if she could figure it out since she roots and makes all the physical signals that tell me so. Anyhow, there was a lot of good stuff to read and I plan to put a lot of it into practice.
In doing my research there, though, I came across some things that upset me a bit. LLL is known for their strict stance on breastfeeding and only breastfeeding and they are big believers in nipple confusion. They don't think a baby should be introduced to any kind of fake nipples at all and that doing so will result in the baby getting turned off of the real thing since it's actually a bit more work for them to nurse for real rather than bottle feed. Fake nipples include both bottle nipples and soothers.
Before Essie made her dramatic appearance I was not convinced I'd encourage her to use a soother at all. However, she came early and had to endure being a preemie. The reason preemies are given soothers when they're in a NICU is so that they'll have a form of self-soothing since they're so isolated from the regular physical comfort and touch that most humans receive at birth. Do you think that there is any way on this planet that I'd hear that and say, "Oh, no, please don't give her a soother. I don't want her to be able to comfort herself if it means difficulty when I try to nurse her later."
Is that honestly a choice to some mothers? If there are mothers out there who would choose that over their premature, sick little baby having a way to comfort themselves during a painful, frightening time then I seriously would like to put the beatdown on them.
Oh, sorry, am I being NORMATIVE? I might be. But as much as this breastfeeding frustration sucks, I'm sure that being born too soon, intubated, stuck with IV pokes all over her arms and feet, having repeated painful eye exams, feeding tubes stuck down her throat, having to wear an uncomfortable CPAP and enduring many, many other things I wasn't even aware of sucked EVEN WORSE for Shaughnessy and she didn't even have the perspective of knowing why it was all happening. All she had was whatever instinctive physical defense she was capable of.
If they'd told me that the only form of comfort possible for her was a bong hit every hour, you'd better believe I'd have been in there lighting it up for her.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
The baby has landed.
Essie's home now. She's been home since yesterday morning, and we 'roomed in' overnight on Friday night. The rooming in went pretty well all things considered, if you consider that taking care of our daughter was the first priority and sleep was definitely the second! We managed to grab a few hours of sleep each, but not much. Also, a real cold finally decided to hit me that very night. Not one of the 'oh, maybe I'm a cold, maybe I'm not' things that have been plaguing me since she was born. No; a real, no-kidding cold.
Coming home, though, was lovely. We rented a car for the weekend to make things a bit easier for the first couple of days and you should have seen us on the drive from the hospital. Giddy with happiness and love for our little family unit, thrilled to be united at last. Bringing her into the apartment was strange, strange strange and the reality hit pretty dang fast. Like any newborn, Essie's schedule is eat, sleep, diaper change, eat, sleep, diaper change, eat, sleep, diaper change. She goes approximately three hours between feeds, so my entire focus has been on following this schedule and grabbing sleep when she's sleeping (after I've expressed milk, maybe eaten some food, had something to drink, possibly gone to the washroom. I hear tell I might even have a shower someday!)
In a very unexpected development my girl has decided she wants NOTHING to do with my boobs. I'm not talking simply bare boob, here. I mean she seems to suddenly hate the nipple shield with a tiny grunty passion. Whenever I attempt it she gets furious and overwrought and finally I just get a bottle and bottle-feed her because girlfriend needs to eat! She still isn't latching on enough to eat without the nipple shield, so this is a project we'll have to revisit a little later on when things have settled down. She has her first pediatrician's appointment tomorrow and I'll be damned if I go in there with a baby that's lost weight.
In all honesty this last day has been extremely difficult. Even without the cold it would have been, I'm sure, but it's been rough. I've been feverish and coughing and sneezing and throwing up and even with Andrew's considerable help I've found myself wondering how this parenting thing can be manageable long term.
The answer, of course, is that it won't be like this long term and that every new parent goes through this sudden reality-check of actually having a baby to care for around the clock. I will get over this cold, she will gradually go longer between feedings over the months and then start sleeping through the night (hopefully; I'm not dumb enough to think that's any sort of guarantee!) She's going to change so fast and I'll find myself looking back and missing with everything in me the tiny, perfect being that she is in this very moment. I'm disappointed that I got sick for these first, formative days together because I'm already realizing that I hardly remember the many details of what the last 24-plus hours have been like.
What I will remember is how it felt to instinctively hold her near me when I'd crash out with her on the sofa during her sleeps. My own head spinning and sore and stuffed up, but all my senses focused on her breathing and how perfect her round little cheeks are. I'll also remember the painful reality that struck each time her hungry grunts would wake me up too soon from a desperately needed nap. There is no choice. Baby must eat, baby is our baby, we're the ones who have to sustain her. That's life, momma.
So I guess yet another chapter in this weird blog now begins. We'll see how regular my updates are now, but I guarantee I'll have a lot to share when I do!
Coming home, though, was lovely. We rented a car for the weekend to make things a bit easier for the first couple of days and you should have seen us on the drive from the hospital. Giddy with happiness and love for our little family unit, thrilled to be united at last. Bringing her into the apartment was strange, strange strange and the reality hit pretty dang fast. Like any newborn, Essie's schedule is eat, sleep, diaper change, eat, sleep, diaper change, eat, sleep, diaper change. She goes approximately three hours between feeds, so my entire focus has been on following this schedule and grabbing sleep when she's sleeping (after I've expressed milk, maybe eaten some food, had something to drink, possibly gone to the washroom. I hear tell I might even have a shower someday!)
In a very unexpected development my girl has decided she wants NOTHING to do with my boobs. I'm not talking simply bare boob, here. I mean she seems to suddenly hate the nipple shield with a tiny grunty passion. Whenever I attempt it she gets furious and overwrought and finally I just get a bottle and bottle-feed her because girlfriend needs to eat! She still isn't latching on enough to eat without the nipple shield, so this is a project we'll have to revisit a little later on when things have settled down. She has her first pediatrician's appointment tomorrow and I'll be damned if I go in there with a baby that's lost weight.
In all honesty this last day has been extremely difficult. Even without the cold it would have been, I'm sure, but it's been rough. I've been feverish and coughing and sneezing and throwing up and even with Andrew's considerable help I've found myself wondering how this parenting thing can be manageable long term.
The answer, of course, is that it won't be like this long term and that every new parent goes through this sudden reality-check of actually having a baby to care for around the clock. I will get over this cold, she will gradually go longer between feedings over the months and then start sleeping through the night (hopefully; I'm not dumb enough to think that's any sort of guarantee!) She's going to change so fast and I'll find myself looking back and missing with everything in me the tiny, perfect being that she is in this very moment. I'm disappointed that I got sick for these first, formative days together because I'm already realizing that I hardly remember the many details of what the last 24-plus hours have been like.
What I will remember is how it felt to instinctively hold her near me when I'd crash out with her on the sofa during her sleeps. My own head spinning and sore and stuffed up, but all my senses focused on her breathing and how perfect her round little cheeks are. I'll also remember the painful reality that struck each time her hungry grunts would wake me up too soon from a desperately needed nap. There is no choice. Baby must eat, baby is our baby, we're the ones who have to sustain her. That's life, momma.
So I guess yet another chapter in this weird blog now begins. We'll see how regular my updates are now, but I guarantee I'll have a lot to share when I do!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
A bit of a surprise!
Our precious, precocious daughter yanked out her feed tube the other day and rather than put it back in her nurse decided to see how well she did on a 'feed on demand' schedule rather than a timed gravity feed schedule. That just means that every time she acted hungry they bottle-fed her with my breastmilk. Apparently she did well and gained weight at her usual rate, so they decided there was no real reason to keep her around much longer and informed us that she should come home within a few days! She'll likely be home on Saturday or Sunday!
Um ... what? A baby here, living with us? We are master procrastinators and having not expected her to come home for at least another couple of weeks we find ourselves now scrambling to prepare. Some things we'd intended to do won't get done before the weekend, but they're not the important things like having diapers and bottles and all the little things you find yourself needing. Moving furniture? Can wait.
Luckily we have the most important basics at hand like a place for her to sleep, a car seat, clothes and other essentials. Plus, my boobs. She actually managed to latch without using the nipple shield for a few minutes today, but I am still glad I have that thing or I don't think we'd be having so much success. But the fact that she can be sustained through bottle feeds means that the hospital feels she's ready to strike out on her own, and so it's time for us to take over.
More to follow, but we have a lot to do!
Um ... what? A baby here, living with us? We are master procrastinators and having not expected her to come home for at least another couple of weeks we find ourselves now scrambling to prepare. Some things we'd intended to do won't get done before the weekend, but they're not the important things like having diapers and bottles and all the little things you find yourself needing. Moving furniture? Can wait.
Luckily we have the most important basics at hand like a place for her to sleep, a car seat, clothes and other essentials. Plus, my boobs. She actually managed to latch without using the nipple shield for a few minutes today, but I am still glad I have that thing or I don't think we'd be having so much success. But the fact that she can be sustained through bottle feeds means that the hospital feels she's ready to strike out on her own, and so it's time for us to take over.
More to follow, but we have a lot to do!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Glimpsing the bottom of the well.
I'm so thankful that I told the nurses that it was OK to bottle feed Shaughnessy. Since the night before last I've had a scratchy throat, sinus pain and an on-again, off-again slight fever. It doesn't feel all that serious but the presence of symptoms like this keeps me out of the nursery where my daughter still lives and that makes me very sad. Even worse it keeps me from breastfeeding my girl, but at least she's being bottle-fed which keeps up her practice at suck-and-swallow.
They did make some worried noises about how much breastmilk they have on hand and feel that they're running low. I wouldn't be overly concerned but my milk supply has decided to get less plentiful over the last week and I'm not quite sure why. If it does happen that they find themselves out at some point I'll give them permission to give her formula, but I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. She's never had formula and the sudden switch would probably give her gas for miles, not to mention worse constipation than the poor little bug already has.
Mostly it's a selfish worry, though. She's at what is considered full-term with regards to her gestational age. Drinking formula is pretty much a non-issue at this point. Being able to express milk for her and know that all of her sustenance came directly from me was a major source of comfort for me during the time when there wasn't anything more concrete I could do for her. I couldn't cuddle her, I couldn't comfort her, I couldn't even really touch her much, but by golly I could pump! Even if I hated physically doing it, I was glad to do something so maternal for her.
Now that I can hold her, interact with her and even breastfeed her directly it's not as emotionally necessary, but I'm still a bit freaked out. I didn't have to put much effort into keeping up my milk supply, and suddenly it is betraying me! The nurses at both hospitals were/are very pro-breastmilk and although they're not explicitly anti-formula (and I am decidedly NOT anti-formula) I have overheard disparaging comments about it. I don't want to be disparaged! I'm already paranoid enough about seeming like I'm not a good enough or caring enough parent.
Anyhow, it's just something new for me to freak out about and poke at with my brain. I'm stepping up my pumping/expressing a bit to try to stimulate more milk production but if anything I've seemed to be getting even less as a result. I do not know what this is all about. What up, boobs. I'll have to chat with the lactation consultant at St. Mike's, someone I have not yet met. Reports to follow on whether she is terrifying.
They did make some worried noises about how much breastmilk they have on hand and feel that they're running low. I wouldn't be overly concerned but my milk supply has decided to get less plentiful over the last week and I'm not quite sure why. If it does happen that they find themselves out at some point I'll give them permission to give her formula, but I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. She's never had formula and the sudden switch would probably give her gas for miles, not to mention worse constipation than the poor little bug already has.
Mostly it's a selfish worry, though. She's at what is considered full-term with regards to her gestational age. Drinking formula is pretty much a non-issue at this point. Being able to express milk for her and know that all of her sustenance came directly from me was a major source of comfort for me during the time when there wasn't anything more concrete I could do for her. I couldn't cuddle her, I couldn't comfort her, I couldn't even really touch her much, but by golly I could pump! Even if I hated physically doing it, I was glad to do something so maternal for her.
Now that I can hold her, interact with her and even breastfeed her directly it's not as emotionally necessary, but I'm still a bit freaked out. I didn't have to put much effort into keeping up my milk supply, and suddenly it is betraying me! The nurses at both hospitals were/are very pro-breastmilk and although they're not explicitly anti-formula (and I am decidedly NOT anti-formula) I have overheard disparaging comments about it. I don't want to be disparaged! I'm already paranoid enough about seeming like I'm not a good enough or caring enough parent.
Anyhow, it's just something new for me to freak out about and poke at with my brain. I'm stepping up my pumping/expressing a bit to try to stimulate more milk production but if anything I've seemed to be getting even less as a result. I do not know what this is all about. What up, boobs. I'll have to chat with the lactation consultant at St. Mike's, someone I have not yet met. Reports to follow on whether she is terrifying.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Anus, whatever.
So I've had three good breastfeeding sessions with Essie so far. The last one was today and she drank about 22 cc's altogether which is almost half of a feed. I tried to get her to do it again for her next feed but she was like, "What? I'm tired!" So, no go. Her stamina is not yet enough, I suppose, so I may have to try to nurse her at alternating feeds rather than two in a row for a bit.
We did have a nice visit with her today. The nursing session was cozy and wonderful, of course, and Andrew was there too which was nice because he wasn't for the last two sessions. The breastfeeding might be going well because I gave permission for the nurses to bottle-feed her and that's apparently been going well too, so she's getting lots of practice with suck and swallow. I just want this kid to be able to eat, as I've mentioned, so the fact that it's all going well makes me very happy.
She is getting a bit of a diaper rash, and I've noticed when I change her diaper at St. Mike's that it's always very, very wet. Like, many pees worth of wet. At WCH that didn't seem to happen and she never really came down with a rash at any point. The nurse gave us some zinc cream to use on her to help with it and Andrew changed her.
While we were sitting around he got in a conversation with the nurse about the rash and ... well, he used a lot of proper terms. Stuff like, "When I wiped her anus," and "I noticed she was red around the anus," and "There wasn't really any fecal matter around her anus."
I was sitting there holding our daughter and all I wanted was to holler, "STOP SAYING 'ANUS'!" He went on to say 'feces' and 'anus' and 'fecal matter' a few more times, and I just clenched my teeth and stayed quiet. We went out for dinner during the shift change and over our meal I suggested to him that terms like 'bum bum' and 'poo poo' were just as serviceable.
He disliked the unprofessionalism of such language and pointed out that when the nurse gave us a bath demo she kept saying 'vagina' a lot and it's true; she did. It was all vagina this and vagina that and vagina over here. But still she is a nurse and he's not! He's a dad! I still can't imagine him saying bum bum and poo poo, though. He's far more likely to say 'ass' than 'anus', to be entirely honest.
We did have a nice visit with her today. The nursing session was cozy and wonderful, of course, and Andrew was there too which was nice because he wasn't for the last two sessions. The breastfeeding might be going well because I gave permission for the nurses to bottle-feed her and that's apparently been going well too, so she's getting lots of practice with suck and swallow. I just want this kid to be able to eat, as I've mentioned, so the fact that it's all going well makes me very happy.
She is getting a bit of a diaper rash, and I've noticed when I change her diaper at St. Mike's that it's always very, very wet. Like, many pees worth of wet. At WCH that didn't seem to happen and she never really came down with a rash at any point. The nurse gave us some zinc cream to use on her to help with it and Andrew changed her.
While we were sitting around he got in a conversation with the nurse about the rash and ... well, he used a lot of proper terms. Stuff like, "When I wiped her anus," and "I noticed she was red around the anus," and "There wasn't really any fecal matter around her anus."
I was sitting there holding our daughter and all I wanted was to holler, "STOP SAYING 'ANUS'!" He went on to say 'feces' and 'anus' and 'fecal matter' a few more times, and I just clenched my teeth and stayed quiet. We went out for dinner during the shift change and over our meal I suggested to him that terms like 'bum bum' and 'poo poo' were just as serviceable.
He disliked the unprofessionalism of such language and pointed out that when the nurse gave us a bath demo she kept saying 'vagina' a lot and it's true; she did. It was all vagina this and vagina that and vagina over here. But still she is a nurse and he's not! He's a dad! I still can't imagine him saying bum bum and poo poo, though. He's far more likely to say 'ass' than 'anus', to be entirely honest.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
The big transfer.
On Thursday afternoon I got a call from the charge nurse to tell me that Shaughnessy was going to be transferred that night to the level 2 nursery at St. Michael's hospital. I'd been expecting yet dreading this call for a while so it wasn't much of a surprise. I knew that we weren't supposed to be at WCH any more and it was only serendipity that had kept us there thus far.
The transfer was supposed to happen at 8:30 but the ambulance actually arrived early so she went around 8-ish, I think. I was about to change her diaper and take her temperature and all that stuff when they got there, so instead her night nurse took over and got her ready to go. It was a nurse who hadn't had her before and while she was listening to her chest with the stethoscope Shaughnessy started up her usual grunting and growling. The nurse tried to work around it, but eventually looked at my girl in pretend exasperation and said, 'You sound like a bear!" I loved this, since her growliness is something that I find extremely funny. If my sources are correct she'll outgrow some of this around the time she reaches her due date so I really need to cherish it while I can!
Anyhow, the nurse did get her settled into the transfer incubator out in the hallway where the ambulance attendants were waiting around. When she was done she draped a blanket over the top, saying to us that whenever people see one of these incubators they gawk at it to try to see the baby inside so it was just a bit of privacy. Then we all started off.
When we got to the elevators to go down to the first floor a huge group of people came out into the elevator area. It was a tour showing expectant parents the various floors they'd be visiting or could possibly end up visiting. It looked like they'd just come up from the high risk floor where we'd spent the first month and a half and when they all saw the incubator they looked very solemn indeed. All the moms were hugely pregnant, likely due near the time I'd been or near thereabouts. The back of the incubator wasn't covered by the blanket and we did see lots of the parents peering in trying to get a look at the preemie within. Shaughnessy was wrapped in blankets, wearing a hat, strapped in a head hugger, covered with more blankets over that, strapped down to the floor of the incubator itself and surrounded by rolled up towels so there was nothing to see but fabric.
We eventually got into the elevator and left the group behind but it was just so awkward and funny and strange. For them the reality that our daughter has had to live is what they are hoping against with everything they have, so that brief encounter in the elevator area was serious and scary and sad. For us it was anything but, seeing as how her transfer is just another indicator of how healthy she is and how much progress she's made. I know that if I'd been a part of that group I'd have felt the exact same way and pitied the poor parents walking next to the incubator, but all I felt was grateful that my girl was OK.
I rode up front with the ambulance driver and Andrew took the subway to meet us at St. Mike's. The drive over was pretty awkward because the driver had a sense of humour that I just didn't understand at all, and had a little outburst to himself where he was looking out the window to his left and muttered angrily, "I just don't give a damn!" It was unrelated to anything we'd said and anything going on around us (that I could see) so I just waited out the rest of the ride as best I could. Eeek.
When we arrived and got up to the nursery one of the first people I saw was a mom I'd been getting to know at WCH, so she and I chatted a bit while the nurse got Ms. Essie out of the incubator and handed her off to her new nurse. Then they did a whole inspection of her with the pediatrics fellow checking all of her reflexes and muscles and whatnot. After all that the new nurse dressed her in new clothes, wrapped her up, covered her with a blanket and that was it! Transfer complete!
I'm having a lot of separation anxiety about not being at WCH any more. Yes, the St. Mike's nursery is bigger and fancier and the rocking chairs are nicer and all that jazz, but it's just not WCH with the nurses we know and the familiar surroundings and all that. WCH is a hospital that I have come to have a lot of respect for and I want to give back to it in some way. Also, change sucks and in a weird way I feel very unsettled about Shaughnessy being in a place that I don't know well. It's not sensible since she's about as safe as safe can be living in a hospital nursery with medical professionals all around her, but whatever.
I did get to nurse her again yesterday which was awesome and went even better than the first time. She drank about 12 cc's before getting tired this time. I can see how it will take some time before she's able to subsist just on breastfeeding alone since she really needs to work up her strength in order to get a full feed from nursing. But it's just as wonderful as I thought it would be to be able to sit and look down at my daughter and hold her hand and sing to her while she nurses. She's awake for most of it and she looks at me and we connect. I feel like I'm more than just her friendliest nurse in that moment.
The transfer was supposed to happen at 8:30 but the ambulance actually arrived early so she went around 8-ish, I think. I was about to change her diaper and take her temperature and all that stuff when they got there, so instead her night nurse took over and got her ready to go. It was a nurse who hadn't had her before and while she was listening to her chest with the stethoscope Shaughnessy started up her usual grunting and growling. The nurse tried to work around it, but eventually looked at my girl in pretend exasperation and said, 'You sound like a bear!" I loved this, since her growliness is something that I find extremely funny. If my sources are correct she'll outgrow some of this around the time she reaches her due date so I really need to cherish it while I can!
Anyhow, the nurse did get her settled into the transfer incubator out in the hallway where the ambulance attendants were waiting around. When she was done she draped a blanket over the top, saying to us that whenever people see one of these incubators they gawk at it to try to see the baby inside so it was just a bit of privacy. Then we all started off.
When we got to the elevators to go down to the first floor a huge group of people came out into the elevator area. It was a tour showing expectant parents the various floors they'd be visiting or could possibly end up visiting. It looked like they'd just come up from the high risk floor where we'd spent the first month and a half and when they all saw the incubator they looked very solemn indeed. All the moms were hugely pregnant, likely due near the time I'd been or near thereabouts. The back of the incubator wasn't covered by the blanket and we did see lots of the parents peering in trying to get a look at the preemie within. Shaughnessy was wrapped in blankets, wearing a hat, strapped in a head hugger, covered with more blankets over that, strapped down to the floor of the incubator itself and surrounded by rolled up towels so there was nothing to see but fabric.
We eventually got into the elevator and left the group behind but it was just so awkward and funny and strange. For them the reality that our daughter has had to live is what they are hoping against with everything they have, so that brief encounter in the elevator area was serious and scary and sad. For us it was anything but, seeing as how her transfer is just another indicator of how healthy she is and how much progress she's made. I know that if I'd been a part of that group I'd have felt the exact same way and pitied the poor parents walking next to the incubator, but all I felt was grateful that my girl was OK.
I rode up front with the ambulance driver and Andrew took the subway to meet us at St. Mike's. The drive over was pretty awkward because the driver had a sense of humour that I just didn't understand at all, and had a little outburst to himself where he was looking out the window to his left and muttered angrily, "I just don't give a damn!" It was unrelated to anything we'd said and anything going on around us (that I could see) so I just waited out the rest of the ride as best I could. Eeek.
When we arrived and got up to the nursery one of the first people I saw was a mom I'd been getting to know at WCH, so she and I chatted a bit while the nurse got Ms. Essie out of the incubator and handed her off to her new nurse. Then they did a whole inspection of her with the pediatrics fellow checking all of her reflexes and muscles and whatnot. After all that the new nurse dressed her in new clothes, wrapped her up, covered her with a blanket and that was it! Transfer complete!
I'm having a lot of separation anxiety about not being at WCH any more. Yes, the St. Mike's nursery is bigger and fancier and the rocking chairs are nicer and all that jazz, but it's just not WCH with the nurses we know and the familiar surroundings and all that. WCH is a hospital that I have come to have a lot of respect for and I want to give back to it in some way. Also, change sucks and in a weird way I feel very unsettled about Shaughnessy being in a place that I don't know well. It's not sensible since she's about as safe as safe can be living in a hospital nursery with medical professionals all around her, but whatever.
I did get to nurse her again yesterday which was awesome and went even better than the first time. She drank about 12 cc's before getting tired this time. I can see how it will take some time before she's able to subsist just on breastfeeding alone since she really needs to work up her strength in order to get a full feed from nursing. But it's just as wonderful as I thought it would be to be able to sit and look down at my daughter and hold her hand and sing to her while she nurses. She's awake for most of it and she looks at me and we connect. I feel like I'm more than just her friendliest nurse in that moment.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
My baby is unreasonably accomplished.
I went into the hospital yesterday so that I could spend Shaughnessy's eight o'clock and eleven o'clock feedings with her. The nurses seem to think that doing the lick and sniff in the half hour before the feed is supposed to start is best, so I wanted to time it right. She was sleepy when I got there, but I changed her diaper and took her temperature before starting the first lick and sniff and she woke up and was nice and perky.
I'm going to start off each session without the nipple shield but then switch to it after a few minutes. I'm not really expecting her to get a good latch yet without it since she still needs to build up some strength, but I also want her to be familiar with me sans silicone barrier.
Her nurse wasn't there when I started, but when she came to check on us she told me that we looked like a textbook illustration of the football position so that was nice. I'd already started with the nipple shield but S-Girl was still kind of fussing around a bit, moving her head back and forth a lot. All of a sudden, though, she latched right on and started sucking. I could tell she was getting some milk because she paused a bit and seemed to be concentrating on how to coordinate this new aspect of sucking, but then swallowed and from there on didn't skip a beat!
The nurse came back and saw that she was sucking and seemed very impressed. We hadn't weighed her first so the nurse decided to see if any milk would come back up the feed tube, and sure enough it did! She also used the stethoscope to verify that there was swallowing going on (since it's hard to tell with her fatty little neck now), which there most definitely was. Through all this little Ms. Essie just sucked away, kind of ignoring all the fuss going on around her. In the end she really only drank about 5 cc's of milk, but she NURSED THAT BREASTMILK, BOOYAH! The nurse was impressed and wrote it in her chart as a mini-feed, not a lick and sniff!
I know. Babies nurse. It's not earth-shattering. But she's a month shy of her due date and seeing my daughter go from a 1000g baby with no body fat to a 2169g+ baby with thunder cheeks who can nurse like it's no big thang, well ... it thrills me. OK?
Phew. After her feed was over and all that excitement faded I cuddled her for a long time and she flaked right out in my lap, snoring her little snores and getting really warm and comfy and content. I had to put her back in her incubator so I could go eat something, but I had a feeling she was going to be a sleepy baby for her next feed and that the second lick and sniff wouldn't happen. I was right, and oh noes the horror instead I had to cuddle my baby girl for another long period of time, what a chore.
Then I came home to sickly Andrew who has been sick and not able to go to the hospital himself, sadness. His parental leave from work cannot come soon enough. Man needs a vacation and this summer looks like it's going to be the best of our lives!
I'm going to start off each session without the nipple shield but then switch to it after a few minutes. I'm not really expecting her to get a good latch yet without it since she still needs to build up some strength, but I also want her to be familiar with me sans silicone barrier.
Her nurse wasn't there when I started, but when she came to check on us she told me that we looked like a textbook illustration of the football position so that was nice. I'd already started with the nipple shield but S-Girl was still kind of fussing around a bit, moving her head back and forth a lot. All of a sudden, though, she latched right on and started sucking. I could tell she was getting some milk because she paused a bit and seemed to be concentrating on how to coordinate this new aspect of sucking, but then swallowed and from there on didn't skip a beat!
The nurse came back and saw that she was sucking and seemed very impressed. We hadn't weighed her first so the nurse decided to see if any milk would come back up the feed tube, and sure enough it did! She also used the stethoscope to verify that there was swallowing going on (since it's hard to tell with her fatty little neck now), which there most definitely was. Through all this little Ms. Essie just sucked away, kind of ignoring all the fuss going on around her. In the end she really only drank about 5 cc's of milk, but she NURSED THAT BREASTMILK, BOOYAH! The nurse was impressed and wrote it in her chart as a mini-feed, not a lick and sniff!
I know. Babies nurse. It's not earth-shattering. But she's a month shy of her due date and seeing my daughter go from a 1000g baby with no body fat to a 2169g+ baby with thunder cheeks who can nurse like it's no big thang, well ... it thrills me. OK?
Phew. After her feed was over and all that excitement faded I cuddled her for a long time and she flaked right out in my lap, snoring her little snores and getting really warm and comfy and content. I had to put her back in her incubator so I could go eat something, but I had a feeling she was going to be a sleepy baby for her next feed and that the second lick and sniff wouldn't happen. I was right, and oh noes the horror instead I had to cuddle my baby girl for another long period of time, what a chore.
Then I came home to sickly Andrew who has been sick and not able to go to the hospital himself, sadness. His parental leave from work cannot come soon enough. Man needs a vacation and this summer looks like it's going to be the best of our lives!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Suckle THIS, smartypants!
Since I'd gone in earlier in the day I called the nursery at around midnight last night to check on Ms. S before going to bed. The call went really well until the end, when things degenerated for me. Here's how it went.
NURSE: She wants to suckle.
ME: Oh, I know. We had a great session with the lactation consultant today. She's really getting it.
NURSE: No, she needs to do it more than that!
ME: Well, I try to do it every day. It doesn't always work out.
NURSE: Every day! More times a day! If you don't she won't nurse later on. She won't know how!
ME: (Getting a bit defensive.) She had an eye exam today. She was too exhausted for more than the once.*
NURSE: Well she really needs to learn this. More times a day!
Now I am all agitated by the thought that due to my negligence my daughter will never really learn to nurse, even though that's bullshit of the highest order and we'd made real progress earlier in the day. I was feeling great about it, really encouraged by the experience and glad that the lactation consultant had helped me out so much and now I am trying to hang on to that and not feel like I'm failing her in some way.
To me the true point is not that she's breastfeeding, even if I've talked a lot about how much I want to be able to do so with her. The truly important thing is that she's getting my breastmilk and the how of it getting inside her is secondary. If she never takes to nursing and we have to bottle-feed her while I continue to pump then that's how it'll be. Ideally I want her to do both so that Andrew can also feed her and so that we can bottle-feed her when it's less convenient to nurse. I am not stuck on her ONLY breastfeeding and nothing else. I think it would be irrational to feel that way, and potentially crazy-making. I don't want to set myself and Shaughnessy up for disappointment and difficulty. I just want to do what works best and makes us both comfortable
I am doing my reading on all this, believe me, and even if it takes time the majority of babies, preemie or otherwise, figure it out and end up doing fine on only nursing, or a combination of both. I wasn't even planning to breastfeed in the first place and had fully expected to formula-feed her with bottles but the fact of her prematurity threw a wrench into those plans. So, this has been a pretty major adjustment of expectations for me and that's probably why I'm pretty flexible about the idea of bottle vs. breast since either is a vehicle for her to drink my breastmilk. She'll be in my arms, alive, not dead due to undiagnosed preeclampsia. I'd rather wake up every day happy about those things than stress out about whether she'll be a perfect breastfeeder!
* The eye exams that the doctors do to check for ROP are very traumatizing and uncomfortable for the babies, so after they have them they're usually very exhausted and out of it for the rest of the day. They tend to sleep more and be more fussy when awake, so things like lick and sniffs aren't usually all that successful.
NURSE: She wants to suckle.
ME: Oh, I know. We had a great session with the lactation consultant today. She's really getting it.
NURSE: No, she needs to do it more than that!
ME: Well, I try to do it every day. It doesn't always work out.
NURSE: Every day! More times a day! If you don't she won't nurse later on. She won't know how!
ME: (Getting a bit defensive.) She had an eye exam today. She was too exhausted for more than the once.*
NURSE: Well she really needs to learn this. More times a day!
Now I am all agitated by the thought that due to my negligence my daughter will never really learn to nurse, even though that's bullshit of the highest order and we'd made real progress earlier in the day. I was feeling great about it, really encouraged by the experience and glad that the lactation consultant had helped me out so much and now I am trying to hang on to that and not feel like I'm failing her in some way.
To me the true point is not that she's breastfeeding, even if I've talked a lot about how much I want to be able to do so with her. The truly important thing is that she's getting my breastmilk and the how of it getting inside her is secondary. If she never takes to nursing and we have to bottle-feed her while I continue to pump then that's how it'll be. Ideally I want her to do both so that Andrew can also feed her and so that we can bottle-feed her when it's less convenient to nurse. I am not stuck on her ONLY breastfeeding and nothing else. I think it would be irrational to feel that way, and potentially crazy-making. I don't want to set myself and Shaughnessy up for disappointment and difficulty. I just want to do what works best and makes us both comfortable
I am doing my reading on all this, believe me, and even if it takes time the majority of babies, preemie or otherwise, figure it out and end up doing fine on only nursing, or a combination of both. I wasn't even planning to breastfeed in the first place and had fully expected to formula-feed her with bottles but the fact of her prematurity threw a wrench into those plans. So, this has been a pretty major adjustment of expectations for me and that's probably why I'm pretty flexible about the idea of bottle vs. breast since either is a vehicle for her to drink my breastmilk. She'll be in my arms, alive, not dead due to undiagnosed preeclampsia. I'd rather wake up every day happy about those things than stress out about whether she'll be a perfect breastfeeder!
* The eye exams that the doctors do to check for ROP are very traumatizing and uncomfortable for the babies, so after they have them they're usually very exhausted and out of it for the rest of the day. They tend to sleep more and be more fussy when awake, so things like lick and sniffs aren't usually all that successful.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Ow, my everything!
WELL! I certainly had a day of man-handling. Or ... person-handling, anyhow.
It started off with a visit to the OBGYN for the six-week followup visit. I had a wait of at least an hour and a half, an hour of which was spent half-naked and trying not to fall asleep on the examining table. No kidding; an hour. Maaaan. But when my doctor got in there he was his usual charming self. He looked at my incision and admired it, which is what every medical professional does when they look at it. All, "Oooooh, very nice. It's hardly going to be noticeable!" This is wasted on my non-bikini-wearing self, but I appreciate it nonetheless.
After he got done looking at it he proceeded to PROD MY INNARDS INTO A PULP while checking my uterus and ovaries. Seriously, I was ready to crawl off the table it was so uncomfortable. I'm not talking about the hand in my privates, I'm talking about the one feeling around on the outside. Ow! My incision is pretty (so they say) but it's still a healing wound, people!
Then it was all, "Put on your pants and scram," so I did. I went to the hospital that houses my daughter and spent the afternoon with her. I was intent on this visit because I was supposed to spend some time with the lactation consultant trying to figure out a comfortable position to nurse Shaughnessy in since what I'd been doing hadn't been working for me.
She recommended the football hold, which is where you tuck your baby under your arm like you're a quarterback and nurse her that way instead of having her lay across your lap in front. It was actually really good and comfy right from the start and I was very happy, but then we moved on to trying to get Shaughnessy to latch, which is something she hasn't done yet. The LC watched me for a minute and then said, "May I?" I said yes, of course.
So she grabbed my boob and the back of my daughter's head, squishing my boob into what she referred to as a 'sandwich', and anytime Shaughnessy opened her mouth she jammed the two together. All I could do was laugh because it kind of showed that there isn't a lot of science involved in the nursing concept. Shaughnessy didn't mind at all, although she still wasn't getting the latching concept very well. Baby+boob=eventual nursing if you're persistent, it seems, so I do think it was a valuable lesson. I don't think I was really doing enough to introduce S-Girl to the concept of nipple going in mouth.
We also tried a nipple shield, which is a thin silicone thingie that goes over your nipple. It's closer to the shape of the soother she's been using, so she actually did latch onto it and do the right thing for a while, but she was super-tired and kept falling asleep. All in all, however, it was a success and things are looking good for future breastfeeding, woot woot! I also have a newfound respect and admiration for the lactation consultant, so won't have heart palpitations from now on when I see her. ;)
I had a bad headache by evening so came home to recuperate from that and all the bodily indignities I'd suffered for the day. Becoming a mother really has stripped away a lot of my extraneous dignity, I must say.
It started off with a visit to the OBGYN for the six-week followup visit. I had a wait of at least an hour and a half, an hour of which was spent half-naked and trying not to fall asleep on the examining table. No kidding; an hour. Maaaan. But when my doctor got in there he was his usual charming self. He looked at my incision and admired it, which is what every medical professional does when they look at it. All, "Oooooh, very nice. It's hardly going to be noticeable!" This is wasted on my non-bikini-wearing self, but I appreciate it nonetheless.
After he got done looking at it he proceeded to PROD MY INNARDS INTO A PULP while checking my uterus and ovaries. Seriously, I was ready to crawl off the table it was so uncomfortable. I'm not talking about the hand in my privates, I'm talking about the one feeling around on the outside. Ow! My incision is pretty (so they say) but it's still a healing wound, people!
Then it was all, "Put on your pants and scram," so I did. I went to the hospital that houses my daughter and spent the afternoon with her. I was intent on this visit because I was supposed to spend some time with the lactation consultant trying to figure out a comfortable position to nurse Shaughnessy in since what I'd been doing hadn't been working for me.
She recommended the football hold, which is where you tuck your baby under your arm like you're a quarterback and nurse her that way instead of having her lay across your lap in front. It was actually really good and comfy right from the start and I was very happy, but then we moved on to trying to get Shaughnessy to latch, which is something she hasn't done yet. The LC watched me for a minute and then said, "May I?" I said yes, of course.
So she grabbed my boob and the back of my daughter's head, squishing my boob into what she referred to as a 'sandwich', and anytime Shaughnessy opened her mouth she jammed the two together. All I could do was laugh because it kind of showed that there isn't a lot of science involved in the nursing concept. Shaughnessy didn't mind at all, although she still wasn't getting the latching concept very well. Baby+boob=eventual nursing if you're persistent, it seems, so I do think it was a valuable lesson. I don't think I was really doing enough to introduce S-Girl to the concept of nipple going in mouth.
We also tried a nipple shield, which is a thin silicone thingie that goes over your nipple. It's closer to the shape of the soother she's been using, so she actually did latch onto it and do the right thing for a while, but she was super-tired and kept falling asleep. All in all, however, it was a success and things are looking good for future breastfeeding, woot woot! I also have a newfound respect and admiration for the lactation consultant, so won't have heart palpitations from now on when I see her. ;)
I had a bad headache by evening so came home to recuperate from that and all the bodily indignities I'd suffered for the day. Becoming a mother really has stripped away a lot of my extraneous dignity, I must say.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Tiny little leaps and bounds.
This has been quite a week in the life of Shaughnessy. And her parents. She's started wearing actual clothing now instead of just hanging out in a diaper all the time, and we got to be there while she had a bath on Wednesday. The best thing, though, is that she's moved out of her incubator! That's right; girlfriend sleeps in a crib.
The clothing is all hospital-issue but it's adorable little pajamas that are donated so she wears something different and cute every day. One outfit so far was even a bit small on her teeny preemie self! She just looks so much like a 'real' baby all of a sudden, and in my eyes the clothes make her look even smaller somehow.
The bath was great. She'd already had a few so it wasn't new to her, but the nurses always do a demo bath with the parents before getting us to do it on our own. Shaughnessy enjoys it and didn't make a peep the whole time, even after the bath when they're most likely to cry because of colder air on their damp skin. She just made her usual conversational grunts about everything. The very best part was when her hair dried. It all stuck straight out from her head in this awesome fuzzy halo of cuteness and looked much lighter than it does when it's all stuck down to her scalp. I nearly passed out, she looked so awesome all dressed up and fuzzy-haired.
Her nurse had intended to change out her incubator to a cot that same night but ended up not doing it, so when I went in the next day I found her in her brand new crib, hanging out like a full-term baby. The crib is awesome because it's so much easier to access her and hold her whenever I want to. That's getting more and more usual, too. The nurses are less and less concerned about her ins and outs and pretty much let us decide when we want to hold her or not.
We've done three lick and sniffs now and she's still pretty much just licking and sniffing. Not a lot new to report there, but I'm going to start trying to go in earlier now and hopefully do more of that so she has lots of chances to get used to it.
That's all that's new. I've been feeling really tired this week and finding it hard to get the energy to do much and force myself to get up and go. Not sure what's up with that, but I'll have to get over it with a quickness! We'll be invaded by a baby tyrant soon and I won't have much choice in the matter.
Oh, I added a Flickr badge over in the sidebar where I upload all the pictures of Shaughnessy that I put in my Facebook albums. Anyone can see the pics, so feel free to click on it to admire her cuteness. They go all the way back to her first week, and I'll keep adding whenever I have new ones.
The clothing is all hospital-issue but it's adorable little pajamas that are donated so she wears something different and cute every day. One outfit so far was even a bit small on her teeny preemie self! She just looks so much like a 'real' baby all of a sudden, and in my eyes the clothes make her look even smaller somehow.
The bath was great. She'd already had a few so it wasn't new to her, but the nurses always do a demo bath with the parents before getting us to do it on our own. Shaughnessy enjoys it and didn't make a peep the whole time, even after the bath when they're most likely to cry because of colder air on their damp skin. She just made her usual conversational grunts about everything. The very best part was when her hair dried. It all stuck straight out from her head in this awesome fuzzy halo of cuteness and looked much lighter than it does when it's all stuck down to her scalp. I nearly passed out, she looked so awesome all dressed up and fuzzy-haired.
Her nurse had intended to change out her incubator to a cot that same night but ended up not doing it, so when I went in the next day I found her in her brand new crib, hanging out like a full-term baby. The crib is awesome because it's so much easier to access her and hold her whenever I want to. That's getting more and more usual, too. The nurses are less and less concerned about her ins and outs and pretty much let us decide when we want to hold her or not.
We've done three lick and sniffs now and she's still pretty much just licking and sniffing. Not a lot new to report there, but I'm going to start trying to go in earlier now and hopefully do more of that so she has lots of chances to get used to it.
That's all that's new. I've been feeling really tired this week and finding it hard to get the energy to do much and force myself to get up and go. Not sure what's up with that, but I'll have to get over it with a quickness! We'll be invaded by a baby tyrant soon and I won't have much choice in the matter.
Oh, I added a Flickr badge over in the sidebar where I upload all the pictures of Shaughnessy that I put in my Facebook albums. Anyone can see the pics, so feel free to click on it to admire her cuteness. They go all the way back to her first week, and I'll keep adding whenever I have new ones.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Because the Lactation Consultant still scares me ...
Aaargh I bought a pump. I bought a Medela pump, even, which is the company that makes the hospital grade pump I've been using. I was going to buy one pump in particular but it was just way expensive so when we got to the pump-buying place I saw another cheaper one by the same company and bought it on faith, which is sometimes a bad bad thing but I do think they make good pumps so risked it.
It's a good pump. Really strong suction, lots of milk pumped, and risk of injury if I use it on the highest setting (which I found out the hard way [please don't ask.]) It has an electric setting, a hand pump mechanism and will also use batteries if you're somewhere without access to an outlet. The hand pump works so well that I almost prefer it to the electric, but mostly because it's much quieter. This pump is pretty loud compared to the hospital-grade pumps.
Holy crap, the word 'pump' is just meaningless to me after reading the last couple of paragraphs.
Anyhow, I still intend to hand-express lots and this pump isn't meant to be used for all your pumping. I got it to make sure I get my hind milk outta there for the kid, and also to use if I get mastitis and want to really make sure I empty the girls out. I haven't had any mastitis problems since switching to hand expressing, though, so hopefully that will continue to not be an issue.
Shaughnessy is doing really well. The level 2 nursery is agreeing with her and she's being her usual talkative self. Her nurse last night joked that Shaughnessy almost doesn't need to be hooked up to the monitors since she can tell from the other room what's going on with her based on how much and how loud she's grunting away. It's very true. That girl knows how to express herself.
The CPAP seems to officially be a thing of the past! I was cautious about believing it, but unless she gets sick she won't need it again. If she comes down with an infection or something she might need the help since she'll be weaker and having to put her energy toward fighting it off. Right now, though, she's breathing on her own and doing it well!
She's had two 'lick and sniffs' at this point. That's basically breastfeeding orientation for preemies, where she's put in the breastfeeding position but not expected to do much except hang out there. She's got the rooting reflex down, she knows how to suck (as evidenced by her enjoyment of her soother) but she has to start learning how to put it all together and figure out how to swallow while still breathing as well. So far she's been opening her mouth really, really wide but not actually latching on as a next step. Then she falls asleep. Hee.
I just like the opportunity to hold her even more, but it's encouraging to see that she has the basics and will probably figure it out in a couple of weeks. Preemies usually start to 'get it' by about 35 weeks gestational age and she's nearly there.
Overall I try not to have too many expectations. The fact that she's alive and already asserting her personality is enough to impress the hell out of me.
It's a good pump. Really strong suction, lots of milk pumped, and risk of injury if I use it on the highest setting (which I found out the hard way [please don't ask.]) It has an electric setting, a hand pump mechanism and will also use batteries if you're somewhere without access to an outlet. The hand pump works so well that I almost prefer it to the electric, but mostly because it's much quieter. This pump is pretty loud compared to the hospital-grade pumps.
Holy crap, the word 'pump' is just meaningless to me after reading the last couple of paragraphs.
Anyhow, I still intend to hand-express lots and this pump isn't meant to be used for all your pumping. I got it to make sure I get my hind milk outta there for the kid, and also to use if I get mastitis and want to really make sure I empty the girls out. I haven't had any mastitis problems since switching to hand expressing, though, so hopefully that will continue to not be an issue.
Shaughnessy is doing really well. The level 2 nursery is agreeing with her and she's being her usual talkative self. Her nurse last night joked that Shaughnessy almost doesn't need to be hooked up to the monitors since she can tell from the other room what's going on with her based on how much and how loud she's grunting away. It's very true. That girl knows how to express herself.
The CPAP seems to officially be a thing of the past! I was cautious about believing it, but unless she gets sick she won't need it again. If she comes down with an infection or something she might need the help since she'll be weaker and having to put her energy toward fighting it off. Right now, though, she's breathing on her own and doing it well!
She's had two 'lick and sniffs' at this point. That's basically breastfeeding orientation for preemies, where she's put in the breastfeeding position but not expected to do much except hang out there. She's got the rooting reflex down, she knows how to suck (as evidenced by her enjoyment of her soother) but she has to start learning how to put it all together and figure out how to swallow while still breathing as well. So far she's been opening her mouth really, really wide but not actually latching on as a next step. Then she falls asleep. Hee.
I just like the opportunity to hold her even more, but it's encouraging to see that she has the basics and will probably figure it out in a couple of weeks. Preemies usually start to 'get it' by about 35 weeks gestational age and she's nearly there.
Overall I try not to have too many expectations. The fact that she's alive and already asserting her personality is enough to impress the hell out of me.
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