Tough day

The weeks since I delivered Anne seem to be flying by, but this week ends with a toughie. My last living grandfather isn't doing very well. He's been frail for some time, but things have taken a precipitous turn for the worse. So, we've moved into family crisis mode. Hospice is involved, my phone is ringing off the hook between my mom and my sisters, and we know that we have a long week ahead.

My grandfather is just a wonderful man. Just the kindest, most patient and sweet person you'd ever meet. We're all going to miss him so, so much when he's not here anymore.

I just saw him last week, and he did wake up long enough to take a peek at Anne. He and my grandmother have been married for 63 years. They have 4 living children (1 baby, a triplet with my living twin uncles, died shortly after birth), 9 grandchildren, and 10 great-grandchildren.

I've been finding a lot of solace in the rosary. We've settled into a bit more of a rhythm with Anne, and so I've been able to focus my mind and pray more. I've been putting her down later (between 10 and 11 pm for now) and so she's up between 2 and 3 times then before 6 am. Not horrible. I've accepted this as my nighttime situation for the time being. And while I'm up in the night, I'm able to reflect and pray.

I'll post an update on Monday.

Baby steps, and pumping for success

The other day, I achieved a milestone: I did errands alone with Anne. Now, if we had added Henry to the mix, I think I would have deserved a medal, but I'll settle for this victory right now.

I got her into her car seat, lugged the stroller out into the trunk (no small feat, the thing is nearly as big as I am) and out we set for *3* different stores. Babies R Us, the Salvation Army, and the lactation store.

Upon arriving at the Salvation Army, I wrestled the stroller out of the trunk, got Anne snapped in, and wheeled into the building. In a move that impressed me greatly, I found a flowy thing that I can use as my belly dance costume cover-up for $2.99. Score. I made the naive mistake of continuing to browse after finding my prey, and Anne promptly proceeded to wail. I quickly made my way to the register, and in my fluster, nearly forgot my bag of purchases as I tried to squeeze the stroller containing the wailing baby out of the door, but I persevered. I was sweating a bit as I snapped Anne back into her car seat (glamorous) and hauled the stroller back into the trunk, but I made it out alive.

Then I went to Babies R Us, which is cake with a baby, since everyone there is either hugely pregnant and uncomfortable enough to not really notice your screaming baby, or toting their own screaming baby or melting down toddler. Kindred spirits. I needed a few nursing supplies and some bibs for Anne. I have never seen a baby spit up with the degree of intensity and difficulty that Anne achieves. We are never without a flotilla of soon-to-be-saturated burb rags in every room in the house. But I digress. I fetched the stuff and headed out on my way without a single wail.

My final stop was the lactation store, where I was in search of a hands-free pumping device. I'd been dreading the dusting off of my breast pump, since pumping is, well, a bit of a pain in the ass. But I have an awesome pump, a Medela Pump in Style Original, which I acquired while nursing Henry. I took it out for a test run the day before, and the thing still runs like a champ. It's the Honda of breast pumps. But I have no hands-free device, and this time, I knew that I needed one. It's no fun sitting there for 10-15 minutes while balancing those ridiculous looking cones in one hand and trying to turn the pages of your book with the other. Upon arrival, I hauled Anne's car seat tote out and dragged her in. The lactation lady immediatly knew what I was talking about and whipped out this bustier thing that you stick the breast horns into and voila! Hands-free pumping. Unfortunately, such bliss costs $40, but it was totally worth it. I can email and read now while pumping.

I got back home, all aglow. I haven't had to wrangle a newborn in many years, and I feared that I'd lost my touch. Xanadu.

Dishcloth afterglow

I woke up this morning tired, but happy. :) We had a hard time getting Anne down for bed last night, but after that, we actually had a good night. She was only up twice to nurse, although she woke me several other times with some cranking. At the end of the summer/beginning of fall, we plan to move her to her own room, which will be like a dream. :) She's a very noisy sleeper, so that will a good thing.

But she's adorable, and I love her. She's alert a bit more now, which I love, and she'll be 4 weeks old tomorrow! She weighs in at a whopping 10.1 pounds!! As Mike always asks me, "what the heck is in your breast milk?!" Apparently super powered baby growth hormone.

Mike: "What's that smell? Oh right. Vomit."

That's pretty much our life theme right now, but we're navigating it rather well. :)

In other news, I got to work on my dishclohs yesterday, and they're going awesome. I found that I can crochet AND nurse the baby (as long as I use the Boppy Pillow) at the same time! I am: Super Multitasking Crafty Mommy.

That pattern booklet I'm using is 2 Hour Dishcloths, available from the Annie's Attic web site. You can also get it in print, but the electronic download is only $7.95. There are 12 beautiful patterns in it, so I consider it a very good deal. My favorite is called "Wee Bobbles." I made one for my mother-in-law last year, and she requested another because she likes it so much, to use as pot holders. It's nice and thick, so also makes a good trivet. Hers is rose pink with a variegated pink and white border. I'm making one now that is turquoise blue with a summery yellow/blue/green trim. It's really got my crafting mojo going again. I'm loving it.

Still aglow from the baptism, and crafting begins anew

I woke up perky this morning, which is always a nice thing. Last night while up nursing Anne, I was thinking about the baptism again. Part of the rite is the parents and godparents renewal of their own baptismal promises, and an affirmation of the profession of faith (the Nicene Creed). After this is completed, the priest recites:

"This is our faith. This is the faith of the Church. We are proud to profess it, in Christ Jesus our Lord."

I just really love that. It's all so very simple. We affirm a simple statement, and THAT is our faith. It all boils down to that.

So, I've been feeling more peaceful. I also picked up my knitting bag again for the first time in well over a month. Obviously, I don't have my hands free much these days to be knitting. But Hank's last day of school is next week, and I really wanted to make something handmade for his teachers. I won't have time to knit the school themed cloths I originally had in mind for them, but then I remembered a real good weapon in my crafting arsenal:

I love these discloths. They are *beautiful* and since they are crocheted, can be whipped up in no time. This booklet is available for electronic download from the Annie's Attic website, and it's very reasonably priced, fyi. So I'm going to embark. I'm excited, although I know it's still an ambitious plan with a newborn in tow. We'll see how it goes. But things like this, my crocheting/knitting and my dancing, are what really make my creative juices flow. It's good for me. :) I got my cotton yarn out yesterday and my hooks ready. I'm hoping to start on them today. It feels good to feel like the old Tiffany again. :)

Anne's baptism

Well, this Pentecost Sunday brought me much joy, and it was received with a great deal of relief, after a long couple of days (and nights :) ).

I was a little anxious, as I always am about any kind of public event. But the day dawned cool and crisp, which was actually a relief since our house lacks central air conditioning and we were having people over after the ceremony. Hank and I attended Mass in the morning, and then we readied for the early afternoon baptism.

I really couldn't have asked for it to go better. There was only one other baby being baptized at the same time, so the church felt cozy and intimate, especially with the cooler weather prevailing outside. The rite of baptism itself was so beautiful that I actually teared up (*postpartum hormones rage*). The deacon read the gospel about when Jesus asked for the children to be brought to him without reservation. He told us that this passage reflects how God sees us: as little children, his children. And the love that we have for our children is a small way in which we can try to grasp how much God loves us. That just made such an impression on me. No matter how challenging things may be right now, and how great I perceive my faults as a parent, God loves me still unconditionally, just as I love my own children. I just felt so much better after he said that.

The rest of the day I just felt lighter, and I enjoyed visiting with family after the baptism. What a blessing.

And so I go forward, spit up perpetually on my clothes, and smelling like vomit, :) but offering it up for a myriad of difficult intentions. Because that is what God, in my vocation, calls me to do. And while I don't always do it with joy (because I am human, after all) I can do it with great love.

Acceptance

This will be my last "whine" post, since it's easy to get yourself down when talking about such things. We've had a week of long nights, but tis par for the course with a 3 week old. I've been reading lots of infant sleep books from the library while I'm nursing Anne, and the consensus is that there is pretty much nothing you can do to make a newborn sleep longer. They either will or won't, but things will improve by around 12 weeks. They may even slightly improve around 6-8 weeks, but certainly by 12-16 weeks. So, we can hang in there that long. And accepting that this is the way things are going to be is easier than constantly longing for something that I cannot have right now, which is a night of full or limited interruption sleep.

It's tough, because sometimes I think that Anne is actually *fussier* than Henry was, who was a *very* fussy baby. That seems monumentally unfair to me, but whoever said life was fair? Mike and I just don't seem to breed these calm and miraculous long sleeping infants. But all newborns are fussy in the evenings, so it's just one of those things.

I'm just trying to get through the days and nights right now, and honestly, it's not going that bad. I have Mike here to help me, thank God, and we're already over 3 weeks in. I return to dance 3 weeks from today, and I have lots to look forward to.

In other news, Anne's baptism is this Sunday, and I'm very much excited about that. I will post a picture on Monday. :)

I'm still alive

Well, I think I've come to somewhat of an acceptance of the long nights. At least this time, I know they won't last forever. They'll just feel like they do.

We haven't had a good night since I last posted, but alas. We've fared it pretty well. We're exhausted, but hanging in there. I'm trying to focus on the positive. And pretty much everything else is all positive. Anne has been awake more during the day and very lively. She has a very cute personality. I'm just counting the days until she's 12 weeks old and past the worst of this fussy stage. :)

In other uplifting news, I'm feeling happy with my postpartum weight loss. I gained a total of 27 lbs. this pregnancy. That's 2 pounds less than I gained with Henry. The first 20 or so always come off very easily. As you hone in on your prepregnancy weight, the loss gets much more difficult, especially when breastfeeding. Breastfeeding spurs that initial weight loss (excellent) but always wants to hang on to 5 extra pounds or so (not so fun). I have about 3 pounds to go, which I'm very happy with. I've been walking every day, which has the added benefit of getting me out of the house for some fresh air. It's been wonderful.

I started dancing again at home, and it feels *superlative*. I loved belly dancing while pregnant, but now I love being the only one in my body. :) My costume even fits again, although the top is *tight*. My rib cage may not have fully shrunk back in yet, I'll have to wait 3 more weeks on that, so see what it's going to be. But the bottom fits good. As well, I have more "going on" up top than usual, so there's a bit of a va va va voom! factor that I normally don't have. But it feels good to see myself as I was before pregnancy. My "new normal." It's a very good thing.

A tale of much spit-up

Well, as I'm sure you could tell from Friday's post, I wasn't in the best of spirits going into the weekend. And unfortunately, the weekend bore up that early prediction. It was a rough one.

We had two really bad nights in a row, and I was in that sleep deprived newborn haze of seeing pacifers and burb rags strewn over every available surface in my house and walking around with dried spit-up covering my blouse and in my hair. In our "TMI alert" for the day, my nipples were killing me and I felt teary and trapped. Saturday night was particularly bad. The baby was extra fussy and seemed in some clear discomfort and was up every 20-30 minutes throughout the night. I was a basket case by Sunday morning.

Yesterday, I had an epiphany: I think Anne has, to some degree, acid reflux. The sheer volume that she spits up is comparable only to a geyser. I did a little research, and come to find out, *all* newborns have some acid reflux. Their esophoguses are immature and they all spit up for the first 6 to 12 months of their lives. Anne's might be a bit more advanced than some, so I considered calling the pediatrician. But I read a bit about home remedies, and apparently if you incline them after eating, and while sleeping, this can help. I did that yesterday, and lo and behold, we had an excellent night last night and a much better day today.

Last night, I was able to put Anne down by 8:30 pm, and she slept for 4.5 hours. That's the most sleep I've gotten since she was born. After that, she slept for 3 hours, and then was up at 6 am for the morning to nurse again. That's excellent for a newborn.

This morning, I feel like a new woman. Getting some rest does wonders for ones physical and emotional health. We decided to observe her for at least a few more days before calling the pediatrician. She hasn't spit up nearly so much today, and I credit the inclining after feeding. Her bassinette is also slightly inclined, and that must be why she prefers to sleep in there. Side lying nursing is a total disaster for her. She gets all kicky and archy, and seems to have a hard time breathing well in that position, so I never feed her in that position anymore. I always have to sit up to nurse her.

So, I'm feeling better. I've also taken a gigantic amount of pressure off of myself with breastfeeding. With Hank, I never used formula. I didn't even know how to mix it until about a week ago. Feeding Anne has been so much more of a production, and my emotions (and poor, poor nipples) have taken a real beating. We've given her a few bottles of formula, and I feel SO much better knowing the pressure isn't always on me to feed her, sore nipples and all. A little formula isn't going to hurt her, and I'm just feeling BETTER.

I know supplementing can affect my milk supply, but, well. This time, I have a different perspective. My mental and physical health is not less important than Anne being exclusively breastfed. She's getting plenty of breastmilk (she's gained nearly 2 pounds since she's been born, up past 9 lbs, little chunker!) and receiving the nutrition that she needs. That's all that is important.

So, this morning, I'm feeling grateful for the hope that I feel today. That everything is going to be ok.

Officially inaugurated as mother of a newborn

What would that sign be?

Wait for it...

Evenings are tough right now. With Anne now just over 2 weeks old, she's getting into that "evening fussy phase," which I remember vividly from Hank, and well, it can be a bit of a nightmare.

Last night, she was wailing as I walked her around the house, trying to soothe her. Mike was upstairs giving Hank a bath. I had her kind of sitting in my arms, facing forward. Suddenly, I heard that ominous squirting sound. All of you parents know precisely what I'm talking about. Mike could hear it even from upstairs. What's worse, I *feel* something touch my hand. Uh oh.

That's right, poo on the floor. And on my hand. Our first official 'poosplosion'. You heard it coined here first.

Her diapers have generally been much, much easier to handle than Hank's. With boys, pee gets everywhere. Up in an arc over to the adjourning piece of furniture. Up their back. Down onto the changing pad and their legs. Possibly up onto your face. And Hank always had explosive poo diapers. You know it's a bad one when not only does the baby need a fresh outfit, but *you* do too.

Anne usually keeps to her diaper. Until last night. I guess everyone falls prey to it sometimes.

I cried last night for only the second time since bringing the baby home. I consider that a victory. With Hank, I cried everyday. I just felt overwhelmed for a spell. Which is totally normal with a new baby. I miss having some time to myself and not feeling so anxious all the time. I miss my routine. I miss my friends and my dance class. I wish my life felt like "mine" again. But, as with all things, this too shall pass. I'm just going to try and keep hanging in there.

Things going slightly better at the feast of the Ascension

Yesterday, as I pulled out of our driveway headed for the feast of the Ascension vigil Mass, I realized that I was reaching a new milestone: it was my first time out alone with Anne.

You wouldn't think it would be that big a deal, given, you know, that I already have a kid. But since he's five and a half and does everything from getting dressed to buckling himself into his booster seat by himself, it really is a big deal traveling with an infant again.

I had to get myself ready amidst her demands to nurse. Then I had to get her ready, and she seems to be perpetually covered in, and smelling of, spit up. Hank was home from school and was bouncing off the walls; Mike fielded him. I had to pack her diaper bag and get her carrier ready. I had to strap her into her car seat tote amidst her protesting wails, and haul her out to the car. I wasn't yet up to attempting Mass with both children on my own just yet (I'm kind of terrified, to be honest) so I left Hank home to have dinner with Mike and get his evening bath.

Once I got out to the car, I realized that I couldn't squeeze her seat into the rear driver side door given the space constraints of our garage, so I had to switch her seat position with Henry's booster seat. That took at least 5 minutes. Finally, I had her snapped in and headed out. Since it was work let out time, it was a tad trafficy.

Eventually, I arrived at our parish and parked. I had to grab all the baby paraphenalia, get her out of her seat (wail, wail) and into the carrier. My back hurt before I even got into the church. :) The opening hymn was finished by time we arrived, very unlike me. I looked down, and she was wide awake, very worrisome. She did crank as soon as I got into the pew, but thank the Lord above, I had the foresight to pack a pacifier in the diaper bag.

So, the end result is that I made it through my first Mass with a newborn in quite some time. My back was killing me, but I made it. I got tons of stares and comments about the tiny baby ("why aren't you home resting?") but honestly, I simply cannot sit at home in bed. The best thing for me is to resume as much of a sense of normalcy in my daily activities as possible. And going to Mass is key amongst those things.

In 'Anne and Tiffany Battle Thrush Episode 1', we had another bad night the night before last, but last night was much better. I think our thrush medications are working. We have to keep at it for another week, but I'm happy that it seems like progress is being made.

Already, this week feels different than last week. More like "this is me, just with a baby." We're getting there. :)