Success!

My low-birth-weight baby is now a breastfeeding success story.

Hadley was born three weeks ago weighing five pounds, six ounces. We took her home two days later at 5.1. I was determined to breastfeed and we went at it with gusto. Roughly a week and a half later, she weighed 5.14!

I'd been stressing over my supply because it seemed like I wasn't getting as much on the rare occasions I pumped; the MD told me to go ahead and pump after feedings to either get the hang of it and to try to increase my supply. At first I'd get four ounces per breast; lately I'd only been getting one or two but that seemed normal from posts I've seen on the internet from other nursers.

Well, we weighed Hadley today, two weeks after her last weigh in. She was SEVEN FOUR! I was so thrilled! My baby, who had been in the 5th percentile for size, jumped a whopping 5% and is now in the tenth percentile. The Pediatrician said she was perfect and doing amazing. He also said she was really strong and that she held her head up longer than he'd expect from a baby of her age and size.

This appointment thrilled me to no end. It's an amazing feeling knowing that your baby is thriving solely on the nourishment you give her. I sometimes hate getting up in the middle of the night, but at the same time I love snuggling up with her when it's just her and me, and it's all quiet in the world.

I look at her and I can't help but think that she was my reason for all that I am, and all that I've experienced in my life. At first I wondered why nobody ever told people about this; this furious and devoted love you feel for your child. And then I realized, if you don't have a child that you take care of or that you've birthed, you really just can't understand it.

Loving her makes me appreciate those who love me so much more. I love all of you so much, and I can't wait to see you.

Until then, have a cute picture.

Quickie

Everything's great, healing perfectly and we're nursing like champs. Here's some pictures to hold people over, feel free to pass them on.


Hadley Mae

BREAKING NEWS

Okay it's not really breaking news. I thought everyone already knew this, but after my marathon phone session with Amy, I was informed NO, NO ONE KNOWS ANYTHING.

I'm having a c-section on Tuesday. That's right, THIS Tuesday! Cancel the Monster Trucks and the Swap Meet! The Half-Pint is making her appearance! Although I can't really call her Half-Pint anymore because she gained nearly a pound in...ten days, so I call her Chunk now. I won't call her that when she can hear me, don't get your panties in a twist! The last thing I want is my baby to grow up with a complex and anorexia and then she ends up on Lifetime in her own movie, played by Melissa Gilbert. If any nickname can lead in any way to Melissa Gilbert, it's not healthy on any level.

I actually thought of a great nickname for her the other night because we were lying in bed and once again, my womb was playing host to Fight Club. I thought to myself, gosh, she sure is sassy. And then it led to us having a dog named Moxie, who is also sassy, and it led to FURTHER thinking (I do a lot of internalized dialogue in bed) that I have a Moxie and a Chutzpah.

For you that are UNENLIGHTENED;

mox·ie (mks)

n. Slang

1. The ability to face difficulty with spirit and courage.

2. Aggressive energy; initiative: "His prose has moxie, though it rushes and stumbles from a pent-up surge" Patricia Hampl.

3. Skill; know-how.

chutz·pah also hutz·pah (tsp, ht-)

n.

Utter nerve; effrontery: "has the chutzpah to claim a lock on God and morality" New York Times.

---

[Yiddish khutspe, from Mishnaic Hebrew upâ, from ap, to be insolent; see p in Semitic roots.]

So, Chutzpah isn't nearly as cool as Moxie, it's more like the Robin to the Batman of Moxie, but that's okay. Moxie is the dominant force in this trainwreck and Hadley will probably be her willing sidekick anyway.

In other news, I'm knitting like crazy. If anyone wants a kid-or-infant-sized beanie, leave a comment. I'm knitting a two-tone purple striped beanie for Hadley-cakes (as her Daddy calls her) right now, but drop me a note and your email address and I can let you know the hojillion yarn colors I have. Bonus points if you request Hogwarts House Stripe Colors.

Oh Sweet Humility

A long time ago, I made a post about patients coming to the ER that I can't stand. It was mostly in jest. Okay, I lied. It wasn't in jest at all, those people drive me nuts. I can't stand people that go rushing in to the Emergency (No, it's not just a catchy title - that's what we do there) Room for every little thing.

Well, I have been served a giant slice of Humble Pie.

The other night (I'm just like Aunt Jay, stuff that happened two years ago can still be referred to as "the other day", but this was actually, in fact, Tuesday) Matt and I were watching television when I began getting horribly uncomfortable. I had a little knot of burning pain that settled right between my boobs and would not go away. I thought, oh, it's just heartburn and took some Rolaids. They seemed to ease it just a bit, but I still couldn't move or breathe or be, y'know, comfortable.

I made it through House and Fringe before I started getting really whiny; at this point I tried Tylenol, which didn't do anything at all. Matt wants to know what's wrong by now if only because it'll probably get me to be quiet. He keeps asking me if I need to go in, and I keep crying, "I'm not going to the ER for heartburn!"

Two hours later I have totally changed my tune.

"Oh God, please take me to the hospital! I'm dying! I'm going to blow up! What if my uterus is ruptured!? Oh God!"

For whatever reason, right before I call my doctor, I take a Gas-X on the off chance it might work. At this point I'm sure that I've been cursed and nothing offered over-the-counter will cure the stabbing pain in my belly. Chest. Whatever it is when your belly is shoved up into your chest. A Chelly? Yes, we'll go with that.

The doctor tells me to come on in and go upstairs to Labor and Delivery to make sure it's nothing super-fun, like labor. The nurses up there are sweet as can be, make us comfortable, get us all hooked up for the fetal monitor and away we go. Half-pint is doing great and moving like gangbusters; the nurse can see her flipping around and gets a good kick out of that.

It's about fifteen minutes since we got there, and. . .I feel better. The pain is gone. I have the sinking, sheepish realization that I've come rushing to the hospital in the middle of the night...for gas.

Gas. Flatulence. Farts. Barking Spiders. Butt Trumpets. Whatever you want to call it, it's no emergency. In the exclamations of our friends across the pond, "Bloody Hell."

I am fully aware that if they send me back downstairs to be evaluated in the ER, I will never live this down. The nurses and doctors I work with will tell the tale of the time an ER nurse came rushing in for a bad case of the imprisoned toots.

I realize I have three options.

Option 1: Lie. Fake horrible agony in the hopes they think something's really wrong and they never discover it's just a case of the Air Fairy.

Option 2: Run for it. Once a guy escaped from my ER with nothing but our phone book and a wheelchair. He even left his catheter in. If he could do it, I could totally escape from L&D.

Option 3: Come clean and hope they don't turf me downstairs. Beg if needed.

Since I'm about as mobile as a rhinoceros in high heels, escape was out. Also, escape wouldn't work because Matt would snitch me out in a heartbeat. Lying is out because I'm a horrible liar; when I was ten or eleven I opened all my Christmas presents and then rewrapped them. My master crime was foiled because I left the tape under the tree; somehow, Mom didn't believe me when I professed I had no idea how it got there, or why all the presents looked like they'd been wrapped by a double amputee. I had a feeling that lying about it would not be a performance worthy of an Oscar.

So even though I felt ridiculous, I came clean. The nurse was very understanding and said that it happened all the time, but I still felt so silly. I comfort myself with the fact that it's the first time I've been pregnant so I wouldn't know what various aches and pains are, even if I'm no stranger to gas.

At least I didn't call the ambulance for pinkeye.

I noticed I got a not-so-subtle hint that I missed someone's birthday and didn't give Lisa a pretty page like I gave Rachael. OOPS. I'm sorry Lisa! You're going to have to be more of a whiner than that to get me to pay attention!

I was going to use the defense of "there aren't any pictures up on her blog!" but then I went to look. Crap. I was screwed on that one. So I stole all of her pictures. Her kids are just too cute and there were a lot of pictures so I had a lot to work with.

Gracie inspired me first, so here we go. Happy belated Birthday, Lisa! I can send you the high-res versions for printing if you like. If you utterly hate the pages, feel free to tell me because I'd love to be able to use all your pictures to play with anyway!

Left-hand Side

Right-hand Side

This blog is turning into my scrapbook-whoring blog, but that's okay! It's how I spend a lot of my time lately, I really enjoy it. Things are going well so far with the home stretch. Angie, our friend that works with Matt, is throwing us a baby shower on Saturday and apparently a lot of our friends are coming. I'm really excited about that, and really touched, because they're our "family" down here and they seem to know it, so they're flocking in for support.

Also, if anyone remembers, today is my Grandma's birthday! She's really excited because she gets to come down to California soon and meet her great-granddaughter. I was thinking the other day that soon, four generations of our family will be in one place, and that's mind-boggling to me. We are so blessed. I am also excited because this time, my house will be clean for her visit and I can let her inside.

I've also been hemming and hawing over posting this here for a few weeks, but I feel it's a good thing to mention. Jesus and I have made up and we're trying this relationship thing again. So far it's going pretty good. I've been doing an independent Bible study and looking, really looking, at this doctrine and what it says to me. I've been chewing on the idea of starting a blog just to record my thoughts, mostly because I can type faster than I write, but we shall see. I just wanted to share.

Little Bean

Today we went to the Perinatologist for another ultrasound, just to monitor the baby's growth because of the GD. Things looked good; her organs are developed nicely, everything is perfusing well, and the tech advised me to buy hair barrettes, because she's got hair!

On the down side...Hadley is really tiny. She's only four pounds, nine ounces, and her abdomen is only in the 10th percentile for growth for her age. The rest of her is in the 20th percentile, which is okay, I guess. The Doctor - who I really trust to tell me if it were a serious problem - didn't seem terribly worried, citing that some babies are just small and that's how it is, and they're perfectly fine after.

Still, I can't help but feel guilty. I didn't eat a lot, and I still don't eat much because I'm scared of my blood sugars getting too high and causing her complications. I have an appointment with my Endocrinologist tomorrow to discuss how things are going, and we're going to have to figure out a plan for me to gain weight so she can gain weight.

I was doing okay with this; Matt is not concerned at all and my Mom reminded me that I was a tiny bean as well and I was a very healthy baby. At one point I felt a lot better, and told Matt "Well, maybe God just wants her to be an Olympic gymnast so she needs to be petite. That certainly would explain all the gymnastics currently going on."

The mistake I made was looking up "low birth weight" on the Internet. WHAT WAS I THINKING. I often scold people for looking up medical things on the internet; I remind them that the Internet is not a licensed professional and will gladly report to you every drastic, critical, and devastating thing that can go on. By the time I'd finished reading the March of Dimes website, I was in tears. Very, very, bad idea.

So, while I know that she's probably going to be just fine - only two weeks to go and she'll be considered "full term" anyway - I've been praying about it and if anyone else remembers to drop God a line, I would gladly appreciate it. I count myself lucky that this is the worst of my problems, compared to what other people have dealt with, but this is my blog, I can cry about whatever I want.

At least now we get a little more mileage out of all those 0-3 months clothes, right?

Another Quick Post!

I don't have Rachel's email, so I figured I would just post the link to her gift here. It's true, I stole pictures of her daughter off her blog, but if she really wants to sue me over it then she can't have her present.

I made this for you, I hope that you like it. If you want something different, like different colors or what-have-you, just tell me; I was inspired by this entry you made about Aubrey being a popmonster and it all went downhill from there. If you want to keep it I have a print resolution one I can send you to get it printed. Anyway, happy birthday, buddy.

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3104/2831782975_c8c4b8975c_b.jpg