The Perfect Pumpkin

Lierre's Birth Story Part 3

(...Please read the previous posts before continuing on to this one. Thank you kindly!)

HEADING INTO THE O.R./DELIVERY

I remember as the nurse technicians and nurses walking quickly beside my bed. I remember looking around, seeing baby posters and medical charts on the walls that we passed. I remember Tim trying to encourage me that soon we would see our baby girl. But still, what I remember most from this point, is how I felt. I kept trying to take a deep breath to steady myself, but it seemed like it didn't fill my lungs... not that I was breathing shallow, but that my lungs were a bottomless pit that refused to be filled. Just breath.... Dear God, please be with me. I'm scared. Keep her safe. Please. Keep her safe. Help her. My prayers for Lierre's safety became sort of a mantra that repeated over and over in my mind as we made our way to the operating room.

No one could really pull a full sentence out of me. The slightest hint that anything could happen to Lierre was enough to make me lose focus on all else in the world--she was my goal and every ounce of my thoughts, my heart, my fight were ready in case she needed me.

Still, everyone kept telling me how I would be holding my baby girl soon, that I would get to eat whatever I wanted afterwards (my parents already had Subway waiting for me--my true craving through pregnancy that I never gave in to).

No one told me that Tim would not be allowed in right away, so when they made him wait in the hallway while they transferred me onto the table and got me hooked up to various IVs, I could feel my heart rate shoot up even higher (if that was possible). I don't know if you know this, but Operating Rooms are freezing. So much colder than anywhere else in the hospital, and when you have a fever (at this point they tell me it is 102 point something) it is that much worse. I felt like my joints were on fire and that I had been stuck in a tub of cold water--which was made that much more bizarre by the fact that I couldn't feel much below my neck because of the epidural. My shaking from earlier in the labor had become alarmingly worse.... They kept assuring me how much I was shaking was normal, but then I would see them shoot covert looks at one another and then tightening the bands holding my arms down a little more. Where is Tim? I need him. What are they thinking, making him stay apart from me for even a second? Don't they know how much of a team we are? Don't they realize I am about two seconds from losing it? Finally, fiiiinnally they let Tim in.

I guess I expected some sort of announcement that they were going to start, some kind of fan fare..... nope. As I'm lying there with my ice cold hands and vibrating body (at this point I'm not kidding... if someone told me I was having a seizure I would have believed them), I hear them talking about what they are doing to one another. I guess they started...huh. How about that. Just breath. Do NOT pay attention, just let go, just space out. God keep us safe. I remember snapping at Tim more than once that he better not look at what they were doing and I needed him to just look at me. I kept my ears open though, waiting to hear her sweet cry. Waiting and waiting.... waiting.... wait a second, this seems to go a lot quicker on television. Is television wrong? I thought they could get a baby out in like 60 seconds in an emergency if they needed to.... so why is this taking so long? "Is everything ok?" I wasn't quite sure if I voiced this question aloud or just thought it. Either way, there was no real response. At this point I remember Tim being very still, his eyes kind of darting around the room. Why isn't he looking at me? What's going on? I hear some hushed voices and hear the breath of the doctor kick up a notch, almost panting. This is so strange. Where is she? Why haven't I heard her cry? What is taking so long? Another doctor or two come bustling into the room and behind the curtain they go. It was so frustrating that I couldn't see them and read their facial expressions.

[Let me pause here and explain for those of you who don't know, when you have a c-section, someone is pushing down slightly underneath your ribs towards your feet... something about it opening up the area or making it easier to grab the baby or something.]

Again I hear how hard the doctors are breathing and take note that there are at least like seven or more people in the room. Someone, the doctor I think, finally pushes down extremely hard on my stomach--so hard that even with the epidural, even with my fever that is steadily climbing, I feel it and I cry out. It felt like someone was trying to crack my ribs they pushed so hard. Lierre had moved down so much in that hour of waiting that she was stuck. Try as they might they could not get her out. That is why the extra doctors had come in.... someone apparently was pushing up, while someone else pushed down, and someone else was trying to pull her out--- no one ever bothered to tell me this, not during the c-section, and not at any time at our hospital stay. I had to find out all the details at my post-partum doctor appointment.... So angry.

Anyways....

I wait and wait and then I hear their voices--this time they sound happy. I couldn't tell you what they said, but then Tim told me that she was there! Where is her cry? I can't see her. Why won't they hold her up or something? Finally I heard her sweet cry.... not too high pitched, not annoying, not anything that I had feared in the months leading up to her birth.... just a cry that I will remember forever. They lay her down on a table to the left of me and tell Tim to go over. At this point, I am so so happy.... but I am also beyond irritated. No one was showing her to me and I was out of patience. I heard Tim saying "She's so beautiful!" and my heart swelling with pride, while a fiery anger boiled just below the surface. Finally, I think it was my nurse from earlier, says for them to bring her over to me.

And then, in a moment that I will remember as clear as day, Tim holds Lierre's face close to mine and we locked eyes. Every single thing about her was intensely familiar even though I had never seen her. I don't remember crying, but I remember having to ask for someone, anyone, to wipe the tears off my face and out of my eyes so that I could see her better (why didn't they undo my arms?).

My first words to her were something like this: "I love you so much.... I am so proud of you. I love you, Lierre. I am going to take such good care of you, I promise. I promise. I love you. You did it... I'm so proud of you." Over and over, that's all I could say, all I could think.

Everyone laughed at this point because even when pulled away a tiny bit, Lierre would turn her head to where my voice was and stare at me. While our eyes were connected, all else faded away. Every single time. 

Tim looked so happy, even with his mask on. His eyes were glowing with happiness, and once again I found it hard to catch my breath--this time out of sheer joy. I was so thankful we were together and well. To God be the glory forever and ever. 

WHAT CAME NEXT...

What happened next and for the rest of the stay were pretty much one bad experience after another. They did NOT let me hold Lierre. They took me to recovery and refused to let Tim back there. I lay alone for a little over 3 hours. Completely alone. No one could tell me anything about Lierre. No one would tell me where they were. I am not going to get into that (at least this post, maybe ever). I also had an allergic reaction that resulted in my body looking like this: 

The nurses reaction to this? One. Benadryl. ONE. I take 2 for a cold. IV's eventually had to be called in (once my hearing started going and my ears were itching), were inserted incorrectly, and hurt pretty bad.

I did not get to HOLD MY OWN BABY or nurse her until almost FOUR HOURS later. 

LAST THOUGHTS

I could go on and on about some of the bad things that happened there....but I am choosing to stop. My dear sweet daughter was born, and healthy (minus some jaundice). Regardless of the journey, the greatest gift of my life was placed in my arms on August 16, 2012. I am beyond humbled that I have been entrusted with such a huge job--raising a daughter. Each day that passes I feel another steel cable wrap itself around us in an unbreakable bond, pulling us closer. Every day I know her a little better. 

There will be no greater gift than seeing my daughter smiling in my sweet, strong husband's arms. 

To God be the glory... forever, and ever, and ever.

Lierre's Birth Story Part 2

(...continued from the previous post. Please start there, if you would be so kind. I promise Part 3 will have pictures, too.)

C-SECTION DECISION

So, we decided to take a little break. I was getting a little weary, but it was more so from not sleeping or eating than being worn out from pushing. I definitely felt like I had more in me. Tim asked the nurse if she thought it was ok for him to go and update my family and get a snack (I had to beg him to eat something, poor guy). She said yes and I leaned back and tried to relax some in between the few pushes I did with the nurse in the room.

Where was the doctor?? Oh wait, there she is. Finally.... maybe she can help me push better. Maybe we can try pushing in a new position. I bet she can make sure that Lierre has turned. WOMP WOMP. The doctor breezed into the room, gave a quick peek "down there" and then launched into a heart breaking speech. (Let me pause for a second and say that all of my feelings of being heart broken etc that are about to follow... I know we are blessed. I am so thankful for Lierre's health. I do not take any of it for granted, not one second. Just keep that in mind.) "So! You have been pushing for about two hours. I can't really tell which way she is facing... I tried to feel, but I just am not sure. Anyways, my opinion is that we should go ahead with a C-Section. You just have been pushing a long time. From what I've read, she might be a big baby. So... that's what I think we should do."

Every word she said laid heavy into my heart like a little person was stomping around in there. Stomp, stomp, stomp. "Not progressing." Stomp. "C-section." Stomp. " I felt like I was having an out of body experience, looking down on the doctor, the nurse, and me in the room. The nurse shuffling awkwardly and uncomfortably by the side (I think, looking back, that she disagreed with the doctor. Or that she just felt terrible about my joking having to become a reality after she had spent 2 hours cheering me on, saying I was progressing just fine), the doctor standing at the foot of the bed with vigorous nods meant to reassure me I'm sure, and me on the bed--pale, tired, alone. Tim still had not returned. I waved my hands around as I tried to ask them to please hold on, please, while I tried to get my husband back in there. I floundered trying to figure out how to do that, especially after the nurse pointed out that Tim had left his phone in the room.

I will not cry. Hold it together. You can do it. Do NOT be that woman from TLC who freaks out just because she has to have a c-section. It's ok. People do this all the time. But.... but I don't want a c-section. I still have energy. I think I can do this. My body was made to do this. I can do this. 

I snapped at the nurse to hand me my phone. I then texted every family member who could have possibly been in the waiting room-- "Tell Tim to get back here ASAP." I took a deeeeep, deep breath and blinked hurriedly trying to keep my tears at bay. I broke the rule about waiting until Tim got there.

Me: Are you sure? I mean... I'm definitely still willing to try to push. I still have energy.
Dr.: No, no.... I just don't think it would do anything.
Me: Can I ... I mean, can I try?
Dr.: I just think a C-section would be best.
Me: Is she doing ok? Is anything wrong with her?
Dr: She is doing well, I just worry that if we keep trying, things might change.

What?! I want to keep trying. But what if she is right? I don't want anything happening to Lierre. What if she gets hurt because I am arguing this? I should trust her.... but I don't! What if she gets stuck and it is my fault? Just do the C-section. Wait for Tim. Go ahead. Wait and try. What do I do?

Me: Do you think you could try something else? Uhm... forceps? Or the vacuum thing?
Dr: Well... if she is a big baby, her shoulders could get stuck and that would be the worst scenario.

At this point, I succumb to tears. And not dainty little tears that I can wipe away. I mean, heaving sobs. All of my weeks and months of preparation. My childbirth classes. Practicing my breathing. Every single daydream I had had about them placing Lierre on my chest and getting to hear her cry and look into her eyes and immediately nursing. All of that was gone in a poof it seemed. I had prepared for this moment for 9 months!... Actually, I was born to be her momma. I had been preparing for that moment since I was born.

This is where Tim returned---to see the nurse looking solemn, the doctor looking a little surprised, and me sobbing hysterically. A sobbing, sweating, pale, snotty mess. From the look on his face, I knew he assumed the worst--that something was wrong with Lierre. I gasped and gasped trying to pull myself together enough to reassure him. And I failed miserably. I actually cried harder, something I didn't think was possible. Thankfully they stepped in and started explaining everything to him. His first reaction was relief.... and then he had a very similar conversation with the doctor that I had had.

At what point is it convenient for the doctor verses it being a real medical issue you should trust your doctor with?

Our concern for Lierre trumped everything else and we eventually gave the ok for the c-section. Tim tried to reassure me, hug me, wipe the tears off my face. I swirled downward and wallowed in my disappointment and what was quickly becoming an overwhelming fear. I had never had a surgery before. Never, ever. I had never broken any bones, other than a finger and a pinky toe and they were minor. And here I was... almost 24 hours from the last time I had eaten, over 24 hours of not-sleeping, being told I'm about to go into major surgery.

I pulled myself together as best I could, we prepped ourselves, Tim got into his scrubs.... and then the doctor came back and said that the O.R. was full and we have to wait at least an hour and to not push. What. the. hell??! My body had been pushing for almost 3 hours at this point. The urge was still there. I was a mess. And then I was told to WAIT for at least AN HOUR when they can already see her HAIR? WHAT. We were furious and incredulous. The anesthesiologist came back and gave me more medicine (uhg) to make it so I would not feel the urge to push. I don't know what school these people went to, but just because I cannot feel the urge to push, does not mean my body is not naturally pushing on its own. Lemme tell ya--there's nothing like an hour and a half with nothing to do to really mess with your brain as you are driven mad with the urge to hold your baby and fear of what is to come. Just when we were about to demand something happen, they finally gave the OK for us to come back. But first I had to drink some nasty mess that would make the acid neutral in my stomach or something. The only flavor they had to this drink? Grape. I HATE grape. In fact, I had joked with my nurse earlier about it, and how grape medicine used to make me throw up as I was growing up. It tasted like Grape Kool-Aid mixed with ocean water. Bleckh.

I had been getting colder and colder and shaking harder and harder... the reason this time was that I had a fever of 100.2. Technically it's not considered a "fever" unless it is 100.4 so I still go the go ahead.

They moved along as I was becoming colder, more tired, more feverish, more afraid than ever. Tim was there walking beside the bed, trying to hold my hand, touch my head, whatever he could as we moved down the hall....

Lierre's Birth Story Part 1

Hey there. This will be long. So for all you people who don't feel like reading waaaay too much (Evan Simmons), here is the Reader's Digest version:

I started having contractions on Wednesday, August 15 around 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. We went to the hospital around 5:00 a.m. I progressed and then had a C-Section around 5:00ish p.m.. She was born at 6:33 p.m on August 16, 2012. The rest of the stay kind of stunk, but was alright. I had a fever at one point and an allergic reaction to something, but everything worked out. We came home around lunch on Monday the 19th (I think).

Now.... for those of you who want the nitty gritty details..... and many, many details, here we go! [I am not kidding. This will be long because this also serves as sort of a journal for me and little lady.]

THE BEGINNING/CONTRACTIONS
If you had been following along with our story, you know that I had been having some false labor contractions for a few days and one night even thought I was going into labor. I had finally given up on all induction methods and was just hanging out with Tim on Wednesday evening, watching TV. I had felt mildly crampy on and off throughout the evening, but I was NOT going to get my hopes (or Tim's) up again. I finally told Tim around 10:00 that I thought I was having a few contractions. He was instantly alert, but hesitant. I assured him not to time anything, that would be silly and let's just wait shall we? However, around midnight he mentioned again timing the contractions. This time I agreed and told him "They have an app for that." He got excited and found one that timed the contraction start to finish and told you how much time in between each contraction. We decided to try to go to bed and rest (hahahaha) and see if anything happened.

The first contractions he started timing were about 14 minutes apart I think. Nothing to get too excited about. After all, they had preached and preached about the 5-1-1 rule at our birthing classes endlessly. 5 minutes apart, lasting at least 1 minute in length, for at least one hour before heading to the hospital. They started out feeling sort of like menstrual cramps. Sort of. Enough to make me curl up in fetal position in the bed while we pretended to watch television. Welp. That didn't last long. I would like to line up every person who ever told me contractions felt like period cramps, look them each in the eye, and ask them why they lied to me. I guess the "cramp" feeling... like the worst period cramps or gas ever gave me the heads up that a contraction was about to start. Have you seen The Exorcist? Yeah, well.... the contortionist persona I took on when each contraction hit would put that to shame. I would start out almost dozing in the top right corner of the bed in fetal position and somehow end up on the bottom left of the bed, or the floor, or on top of Tim. My body would stretch and curl inward and twist of its own accord. I almost felt like I was watching myself, I had so little control or forewarning over what my body was about to do.

The contractions I felt hurt the WORST in.... my legs?? In all my classes, and in all the people I had talked to, and all I had read had warned me about stomach pain and potentially back pain.... but no one had told me about leg pain? The pain started in my stomach, like getting punched while wanting to have diarrhea (yeah, gross, but trying to paint a picture here), would radiate to my back, and then shoot down through my butt and thighs all the way to my knees. I had no idea what to do with that pain. Like the worst kind of fire combined with acid with a dose of being beaten by a baseball bat. My mantra to Tim was "I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do." As soon as the contraction was over, I was completely normal again and Tim would try to tell me that I didn't have to know "what to do," that my body was already doing it. I just literally didn't know how to handle the pain or what "techniques" to use on my legs. I had also never cussed so much in my life. It was like I had been possessed by the most foul-mouthed sailor ever. I even texted my mom (it seemed like the best idea at the time): "Pardon me, but shit shit shit shit shit." I rarely cuss, and never in front of my mom, so...don't know why I thought that might help.

The contractions went to about 8 minutes apart, then to 5 minutes apart, then sporadic between 2 minutes and 5 minutes. I decided to eat a granola bar since they said you don't really get to eat when you get to the hospital. Not long after there was one point where I just sat up and said "I think I am going to throw up." I ran into the bathroom, leaned over the toilet and projectile vomited. Again, think Exorcist. I had told Tim earlier in the night that if I was to get sick, to just leave me alone. Yeah, he didn't listen. He tried to clean me up and the toilet and all the while I thought how horrible this situation was. And then the contractions would stop, my mind would clear, and I would regain a grip on the situation.

Now, in all my big plans, I had typed up a nice packing list. I had packed Lierre's bag, knew where most of Tim's stuff was....and had completely failed to pack anything for myself. This job fell to Tim when I realized how exhausted I was in between each contraction. Also in all of my nesting freak-outs prior, I told Tim that I did NOT want to come home to a dirty house. So...while I lay in the floor dying, Tim packed our bags and also cleaned up.... so sweet.... and yet I could have cared less at that time.

Tim called the doctor, we packed up the car, put Jack our dog in the car, and drove to my parents. We dropped off Jack.... or rather Tim did while I panicked alone. My mom and dad rushed out to give me a window hug, say a quick prayer and we were on our way.

THE HOSPITAL/active labor/pushing
We parked in the 10 minute parking spot to check in (I actually worried about this, that we would stay too long even though there were no other cars there) around 5:00 a.m. They checked everything & confirmed I was in labor (duh). The first people to arrive: Mom, dad, and my sister-in-law Kristin. It was very surreal as they wheeled me from the initial triage room to the delivery room. When I wasn't having contractions, I was thrilled and excited and nervous. When I was having contractions I couldn't think of much of anything at all.

I was so happy at this point of around 7:00 a.m. that I had stayed up all night and still had some energy. I was getting hungry, but was also kind of nauseous. My mom, dad, and kristin all came back to say good luck. My dad didn't say much...just looked kind of worried about me before high-tailing it to the waiting room. Mom and Kristin lingered and then proceeded to stay about an hour (I think? Time ceased to exist a little) and help Tim massage me and press on me while I thrashed around. Because they thought Lierre was sunny side up, I had to lay on my side with one leg pulled to my chest in hopes of turning her. I don't know why, but cervical checks hurt so so so so bad. Is that normal? I kept trying to refuse them but ended up getting them. Some time around lunch (12:00? 1:00? 2:00?), all plans of having a natural child birth went out the window and I got an epidural. I was 6 cm dilated. This is where the "lies" and my disappointment began. I HATE needles. They said they would talk me through each step of the epidural and that it would hurt so much less than my IV had. Nope, didn't tell me when they were doing anything so I jumped when they inserted the needle or tube or whatever and it hurt waaaay worse than the IV. Anyway, as I tried to ignore the fact I had yet another something sticking out of my body, the pain began to subside and I was blissfully unaware of the contractions.

Then I became aware of my overwhelming hunger, my nausea, and how we were about to become parents....holy cow. Mom and Kristin had left some time before then, so it was mostly just Tim, me, and our wonderful labor nurse. I kept "joking" how I was afraid of pushing and that I was going to have to get a C-Section at some point. She assured me over and over that that was unlikely, kept things up beat and tried to answer all of my questions ("Oh man, what if I poop while I try to push?!"). I don't know why, but I guess I had heard so many horror stories about tearing that I was more afraid of pushing than the contractions. Everyone said that was crazy, that pushing felt "good" and I needed to let that fear go. This didn't stop me from shaking (apparently shaking is normal in labor...something about hormones. Plus the epidural can do that. Plus I was freezing).

Anyways, we eventually decided it was time to start pushing!! Little did I know that pushing was not like television. You aren't constantly push, push, pushing without a break. You push a little.... wait... tell them you think you are ready to push again. The nurse was on one side, holding one leg and Tim was on the other side holding my other leg. Where was the doctor?! No where to be found. I was assured that she would come in shortly, but it was just the beginning so it was ok to push without her. I had little doubts scratching uncomfortably in the back of my mind. What about her supposedly being a big baby? What about her facing up? Has she turned yet? Am I doing this right? After about 30 minutes we decided my body wasn't quite ready and needed to "labor down" a little bit. Apparently my pushing wasn't quite good enough in the beginning--wasn't really ready for that one either. I guess I would have felt it more without the epidural, but I really was pushing a lot with my face.... I digress.

The pressure built up over those 30 minutes and we decided to try again. I pushed and pushed (and huffed and puffed) for about two hours. Where was the doctor? Nowhere to be found. Shouldn't someone besides this nice, really young nurse be checking me? Shouldn't she have come by? Has Lierre turned yet? During this time Tim and the nurse were both so very encouraging. Tim kept yelling at me to "get mad" because it helped me push better. They both told me they could see her hair and that thrilled me.... and terrified me that "the end" was so close.... and made me so impatient to hold my baby girl! We decided to take a little break from the pushing because so much time had passed....

One Month

Lierre,

My dear, sweet girl... You have wedged yourself so deeply into our hearts in such a short amount of time. Of course I have loved you from the time I had any inkling you were growing inside of me, but it really hit home the other day when I realized I officially have memories with you now and know some of your silly traits and could slightly predict your behaviors.

Cuddling on your One Month

We went to the doctor yesterday for your hepatitis b vaccine and well-baby checkup. It was definitely much harder for me than it was for you! Daddy got to come, too which helped so much. You weigh 9 pounds 4.5 ounces (I was only two ounces off in guessing your weight...the nurse said I must have been cheating) and are 22 inches long.... your weight is in the 50th percentile and your length is in the 75th percentile. You are growing so well and we are so proud of you. It is hard for me already to look back at your pictures from weeks one and two and see how much you have changed and grown.

You have been having some reflux issues that keep you awake and in pain throughout the night and day so the doctor prescribed baby Zantac which we started yesterday. I don't know if it was that or the exhaustion from missing your nap and the shot you had to get, but you slept like a champ all afternoon and probably the best you have slept last night... your mommy thanks you so much for this!

Oh my.... your first vaccine (that I have witnessed--you got the first one at the hospital). You were being perfect at the doctor, so patient and not one bit fussy.... they told me to lean over and talk to you while they gave the shot. It broke my heart to see your bright eyes fill with fear and your lower lip start to quiver as you started to cry when they gave you the shot. You gave your high pitched cry that I always say sounds like a little piglet...the one that lets me know you are afraid or something is wrong. Luckily it was over quick and I got to nurse you before we left. Your daddy and I are such pushovers... whenever you made a peep yesterday, we were there, fawning over you. I have no idea how I am going to handle your two month shots... you have to get so many and we are actually considering delaying some of them.

Your favorite things: still being held and cuddled as much as possible, bath time (you love the warm water being poured over you), and music music music.

Your least favorite things: getting out of the bath (I think it is because you are cold), spitting up (it comes out of your mouth and nose so much and you have had difficulty breathing and we've had to turn you upside down and hit your back and use the bulb to suction you out).

You are curious about: the stroller.... you initially hated it, but we went on a long walk last night and you enjoyed it. I loved talking to you about the sunset, the cooler weather, and everything that we saw. Also, patterns and any toys with fun patterns on them.

Milestones: You are so so close to smiling. You do it in your sleep sometimes, but never awake. You have incredible neck strength already and sometimes you sit up in my lap after I burp you--I think you think you are 7 months old.

Right now I can see you on the monitor and even though I am savoring this moment of still and quiet, there is still another part of me that wants to go pick you up out of your quiet, calm, innocent sleep and hold you close.

We love you, angel. You are worth everything. You are the solid center of our world. <3

love,
Mommy

3 Weeks Old

Lierre, you are three weeks old today. Seriously?? How is that even possible? Everyone said it would go by in a blur and they were not wrong. Not even in the fun, whimsical way older people often mean (although that is happening, too).... I think that it is truly because every day is chopped up into segments of hours instead of night and day.

We went to the doctor today, by ourselves which I view as a huge accomplishment considering a little less than three weeks ago I couldn't even get out of bed by myself. The reason? A suspected case of Thrush. I noticed as you were screaming the other day, in a quest for more food, a few little white spots on the insides of your cheeks. Thanks to some of my hours of reading baby blogs and baby message boards while pregnant, I had stumbled upon a post about Thrush in passing. Thankfully I remembered what I read and packed her up and we headed to the doctor.

The verdict? Yep, you have Thrush. Rats. This would explain your reluctance to latch when we eat the past few days. Your face gets a very determined angry look and then you hesitantly latch on before thrashing your head back and forth with a frustrated grunt or cry and rip yourself away. Eventually you get with the program and get to chowing down, but it is not without effort. Poor baby. We have to put some nasty medicine in your mouth 3-4 times a day for the next 10-14 days. Bahhhhh. To me, with a teeny little baby who eats every 2-3 hours.... 10 days seems like a stinking eternity.

I know its not a big thing.... but it is so relieving to me to have noticed something wrong with you before it got "bad," made a decision, and got you to a doctor. It's just one of those things that I worried about before you came, and since you have been here....that maybe something would happen health wise and I wouldn't notice, or wouldn't know what to do. It is nice to know that you are ok. And partially because of something that I did. Phewwww. Maybe I can do this mommy thing after all?

However, the doctor was thrilled with your weight gain. You are a whopping 8 pounds 15.5 ounces. The doctor said that they like to see about a pound of weight gain by one month appointments and you are just shy of that with 10 days to spare. This is even after your weight dropped down to 7 pounds 10 ounces at the hospital. Way to go little piglet! The doctor actually said "Whatever you all are doing to feed her, keep it up because it is working." Let me pat myself on the back for a minute.

Your favorite things at the moment: 
-Being held, tucked tight to my chest, or daddy's. Seriously, you freak out if you are put down while you are awake. You cannot handle even five two minutes by yourself. We have tried some tough love, but you scream and scream until you are holding your breath, your face turns purple, and the little red mark on your forehead is fire engine red. Tough things for mommy to watch.
-Music. When you are crying, if anyone starts to hum or sing to you, you almost immediately stop and get very still. The same is true in the car... if you start to cry in your carseat while we are on an adventure, if I turn the music up a little louder, you typically stop crying (at least as loud) and sometimes fall asleep.
-Baby K'tan Wrap time.... this ensures that you stay close to mommy.
-Staying awake. All of the bragging I did in weeks 1-2 about how you sleep all day in 3 hour chunks at a time is out the window. You just love to stay awake.... you just don't know what to do with yourself when you are awake. Cry? Stretch? Doze for 30 seconds to 10 minutes before jerking yourself awake? Fuss? It's during these long stretches that I am thankful for your grandma who comes over so that I can grab a shower, or eat, or just breath. Tim does this, too when he is home (He went back yesterday and we have been lonesome for him).

Your least favorite things at the moment:
-As mentioned, being put down.
-Whenever we take off your clothes for a bath or an outfit change. Your startled face turns into a mildly annoyed expression before you get royally ticked off and you start to cry. Thankfully this only lasts until you are dressed...it's like you can tell we are almost done and with each inch that I zip or button you up, your cries get quieter and your wiggles start to slow down.
-Hiccups. Poor thing.... you are still dealing with horrible cases of hiccups almost every time you are laid down. Sometimes they wake you up. Most of the time you handle it better than I do.
-Spicy chicken wings. I ate these with Tim one night and your stomach did not thank me the next day. Woops. Sometimes I forget that what I eat, you will eat, too.

Waiting at the doctor. You are daddy's clone.

You found your thumb for a minute. You can't seem to keep it in, though.

You asleep in the wrap as we speak.

If I knew then what I know now....

So.... I told myself that when I had a baby I would keep this blog up and running. I would always get so mad (read: frustrated that my bored self had nothing to do) when baby blogs I looked at stopped posting after the baby came. Didn't they know that their readers were still checking? Didn't they care? (Shouldn't I get a life?)

So I apologize for being absent the past week or two (I can't even remember when I posted last).

I still want to include Lierre's birth story on here one day, but that day is not today. It will be long and I will really have to think about what I want to include and what I don't want to include--there were some things that really upset me during my stay at the hospital....and there were some successes (e.g. My sweet little girl being born healthy!).

Anyways. I just wanted to give an update on how things are going here on the home front. As we speak, Lierre is taking a nap. Thank the Lord! She has been doing remarkably well on the eat/sleep front and has mostly been on a routine (that she pretty much set herself) of eating about every 3 hours and then sleeping for 3 hours, on and off all day long (a "day" is no longer when the sun is up. A day consists of a 24 hour period of time, chopped up into little 3 hour segments). That is.... until the last 2 days. Yesterday she decided against sleeping altogether. I mean it. She slept maybe 2-3 hours for the entire day and that was only because we were holding her and doing every trick in the book. Thank goodness Tim was home to help me because whenever I hold her, she thinks she should be eating and gets very worked up when this does not happen in .0002 seconds. However, this resulted in her sleeping like a champion last night, for which I was very, very, very thankful.

(If you are not a lady, skip over this next part)
Hey momma's to be: I'm sure you have heard that breastfeeding can be a little tricky in the beginning... maybe a little painful, but "as long as you have the correct latch it shouldn't hurt." Do. Not. Believe. This. Blasphemous. Lie. In the beginning it just flat out suckssss. I mean, yes a good latch is important and will go a long way to helping baby to eat well and to alleviate some pain. But. It will still hurt in the beginning. In fact, the first 2-3 days I was home, I just sat there on the couch and cried almost every time I had to feed Lierre. I would squeeze Tim's hand, or my mom's, grit my teeth waiting for the pain that was about to come, and let the tears roll. If I had to describe how it felt...hmm.... like someone jabbed pins into my nipples and the poured salt into the wound. For about 45 minutes. Every three hours. Just let that sink in a minute.

My advice? 1.) Invest in nipple shields... I think that's what they are called. They are like this half circle thing made of plastic that you put on in between feedings so that your shirt/bra/whatever will not rub against you. 2.) Buy some Lanolin nipple cream. Put it on after every feeding. Some people say that breast milk does the same thing, but it this was not the case for me. Apply liberally and thank your lucky stars that such a thing exists. It helps with the horribly raw feeling you will get and (in my case) made it not so unbearable when baby latches on. 3.) Make sure your partner & family are incredibly supportive because otherwise you may not make it to the other side. 4.) [this should have been number one because it should happen first, but oh well] Even if baby is hungry, ease into breast feeding. No, I am not saying don't feed your baby. I'm just saying that the person who told me at the hospital that letting Lierre try to nurse with an improper latch for two whole hours to the point I was bleeding should be shot in the head. Twice. One for every hour she steered me wrong. Start out with 10-15 minutes at most. Give them a 5 minute break and then try again.

Another thing I have learned.... (Thanks, Becky Muller for talking me down late one night and giving this advice).... A sane mommy is more important than an exclusively breast fed/back sleeping/perfect anything. Example: We finally gave in and started giving Lierre 1 bottle of formula at night. Why? Because she would NOT stop eating one day, I had nothing left, and was completely exhausted. I cried over this decision feeling like a big fat breastfeeding failure. What really happened? Lierre ate, went to sleep, I slept, and life kept going.

So since then we have continued with Tim giving her this one bottle every night, somewhere between 10:30 and 3:00 a.m. (depending on how the "schedule" went for the day). This ensures that I get some sleep at some point and Lierre is always full after.

Oh, there is so much to more to say and to catch everyone up on, but Lierre is waking up as we speak. Before we go I just want to say that Tim is doing an incredible job with Lierre. He never gets impatient with her, is willing to give up his sleep, talks me down every time I get worked up, and is just generally an awesome dad. I knew he would be, but it is so much cooler to experience it. I will try to include more as the days go by. Here are some pictures for ya to enjoy.

One of Lierre's 10 minute naps yesterday.

Asleep after Aunt Lindsey & Uncle Clayton visited

Lierre's "I refuse to sleep" face yesterday

I just think baby feet are cute.

Tim getting Lierre inside for her first outing at The Candle Factory

At the Candle Factory. It was too hot so we had to leave.