Quick humor/weird parenting thought for your day:
My very sweet cousin sent us a crib toy that lights up, plays music and makes rainforest sounds. We were really hoping it would help us with naps because Silas goes down fine at night, he just needs a little help earlier in the day.
Anywho, the first night it was hanging in his crib, he shimmied himself sideways and accidentally kicked it on at 3 a.m. I freaked, ran in and turned it off, instead of allowing it to soothe him back to sleep. Of course, he screamed and wouldn't go back to sleep without nursing. Fail.
From then on, we have tried to make sure the toy is in the off position when we put him down at night, or at least when we do the breathing check/admiration of his sleeping cuteness when we go to bed. Well, we failed again last night.
At 5 a.m. it went off. I stiffened in the bed listening for baby noises. It played for six minutes and turned off. He then kicked it on again! He did it once more, but then got very quiet. I was awake for all 18 minutes of this and then some. Andrew woke at the beginning and then slept through the rest.
The silence tends to make me crazy at times, like this morning. I kept thinking, "hmmm....maybe it lulled him back to sleep. Or maybe he got his head stuck in the rails and is quiet because he can't breathe!" See how parenting can drive you to insanity?! Of course the gaps aren't big enough for his head. And of course he would cry if he were hurt. But those thoughts are too rational for this momma!
However, did I ever go check on him to really see if anything bad had happened?
Nope. Because as much as I can drive myself crazy about irrational things happening to my child, the silence is generally attributed to sleeping or thinking about sleeping, and I NEVER want to wake my sleeping child or interrupt the process.
Enjoy your day!
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
"You were not called to that..."
Facebook is quite the double-edged sword, isn't it? On the one hand, you can catch up with old friends, keep up with the cuteness of nephews you haven't met yet and, as one of my FB friends recently told me in a message, intrude on others' lives (politely, of course!). But on the other hand, you can compare yourself to others (be it jobs, living situations, relationships, family life, etc.). I'm sure there are other negatives, but that's the big one I face.
While on Facebook earlier this week, I saw where a friend of a friend had a baby. The precious child was born with a condition that could be fatal, and after just over a week, that sweet girl did pass away. I proceeded to grab Silas, hold him and bawl over this situation. What's more, this friend had posted words the mother said--"She is where we all long to be." What faith this woman has!
Two thoughts immediately popped into my head. I thought, "How much would I love to have the faith and trust this mother has! God has done incredible things in her life." Then I thought, "I could never enter that situation and say those words." The second thought made me very sad, especially looking back on how long I've followed Jesus and the ups and downs He's walked me through.
Later that evening I was able to talk with my long distance best friend who knew more about passing of this baby. I shared with her my thoughts, and as always, she spoke truth and said, "But you're not in that situation." Very true. But what if I were to be one day? Could I do that?
The next morning I sat down to start an old Bible study over again. Before diving in I sat and prayed for several things going on in my family right now--job transitions, sick relatives, etc. I also prayed for this sweet family I've never met and only know through FB status updates. As I prayed about my reactions I distinctly felt God gently reminding me, "You were not called to that."
It's pretty much what my friend had said the night before. But this time I understood better.
At this point in my life I haven't been called to bury an infant. If I had, God would have equipped me with what I needed to walk through that. However, I was called to bury my mother just as I was exiting my teenage years. If I had known that would happen years before, I might have had the same reaction--I could never...
But I did. It still hurts, but God walked me through it and is still walking me through it. I have to trust that whatever the situation, no matter how hard and how gut-wrenching it could be, He'll be there with what I need.
While on Facebook earlier this week, I saw where a friend of a friend had a baby. The precious child was born with a condition that could be fatal, and after just over a week, that sweet girl did pass away. I proceeded to grab Silas, hold him and bawl over this situation. What's more, this friend had posted words the mother said--"She is where we all long to be." What faith this woman has!
Two thoughts immediately popped into my head. I thought, "How much would I love to have the faith and trust this mother has! God has done incredible things in her life." Then I thought, "I could never enter that situation and say those words." The second thought made me very sad, especially looking back on how long I've followed Jesus and the ups and downs He's walked me through.
Later that evening I was able to talk with my long distance best friend who knew more about passing of this baby. I shared with her my thoughts, and as always, she spoke truth and said, "But you're not in that situation." Very true. But what if I were to be one day? Could I do that?
The next morning I sat down to start an old Bible study over again. Before diving in I sat and prayed for several things going on in my family right now--job transitions, sick relatives, etc. I also prayed for this sweet family I've never met and only know through FB status updates. As I prayed about my reactions I distinctly felt God gently reminding me, "You were not called to that."
It's pretty much what my friend had said the night before. But this time I understood better.
At this point in my life I haven't been called to bury an infant. If I had, God would have equipped me with what I needed to walk through that. However, I was called to bury my mother just as I was exiting my teenage years. If I had known that would happen years before, I might have had the same reaction--I could never...
But I did. It still hurts, but God walked me through it and is still walking me through it. I have to trust that whatever the situation, no matter how hard and how gut-wrenching it could be, He'll be there with what I need.
Monday, July 30, 2012
(Nearly) three months and no tongue tie later...
When I thought about writing this post, the title was going to be "Two months and a tongue tie later." As you can see, I failed in my timing. We also got a diagnosis contrary to what I was somewhat expecting.
A few weeks ago I wrote a post detailing all that we've been through with breastfeeding. Toward the end I mentioned that a lactation consultant thought Little Man might have a tongue tie, but one that no surgeon might touch. The very next week our pediatrician agreed and told us to go see a specialist to find out if anything could be done.
If you haven't heard of a tongue tie, you aren't alone, though I bet you've heard the phrase "tongue-tied." If you want to know more or see pictures, google it, but it basically means there's a piece of tissue or something that attaches the tongue to the floor of the mouth. Unless clipped, it won't let the tongue move as freely, thus causing nursing problems as well as speech impediments.
Some babies have a posterior tongue tie that is harder to operate on, and since I had been told Silas's was not as pronounced I thought maybe this was the case. I knew he had a high palette (sign of a tongue tie) and he tends to lose suction, but his tongue does move out over his teeth, something that doesn't happen with most tongue tie cases.
I went into our appointment with the pediatric surgeon secretly hoping for a true tongue tie just because it would "solve" my nursing problems. (Me, looking for another solution, trying to control...story of my life!) The pain is pretty much gone now, but Little Man is still an inefficient feeder. He just takes so stinkin' long!
Well, that didn't happen. The surgeon said he doesn't see one at all, that Silas is perfectly fine. I know this is great--who wants their child to go through the agony of having something clipped in his mouth?--but it basically means that until Silas gets big enough to figure it out (or maybe never) he will just take his time.
And that has to be okay. I'm trying to remind myself that one day he won't let me hold him for 30 minutes several times a day. I also just have to organize things so that when he takes a long time to eat, I don't get stressed that we can't go here or do this, etc. And besides, he only eats five times a day now, so things are improving!
Now, funny/could have been not so fun story about our pediatric surgeon appointment. After waiting for 20-30 minutes, we were called back. Little Man was weighed, and we were put in a room. Just as the nurse was walking out of the door, the fire alarm goes off. This was not a normal fire alarm. It was SCREECHING, and for people with epilepsy, seizures would have ensued with the flashing lights.
No one moved at first, but finally the nurse tells me we have to evacuate. I get Silas in one arm, his car seat and bag in the other, and we walk down the stairs outside. We trekked across the parking lot because if this was a real fire I wasn't going to be standing just outside the front door with all the other inconvenienced people.
After several minutes, the fire department arrived. I could tell by the length of time nothing bad was actually happening. At least I hope if there had been a fire they would've responded more quickly. The building was checked, and we were allowed back in.
The entire time we were in the building with the insane screeching, Silas didn't make a peep. He was awake, and I did my best to shove one of his ears into my side while trying to put my arm (that was holding him) over the other ear. Apparently that was unnecessary because my son just looked around, frowning, knowing very well that this was taking more time out of our day than anticipated. Thankful for that, and I really hope his hearing wasn't harmed!
A few weeks ago I wrote a post detailing all that we've been through with breastfeeding. Toward the end I mentioned that a lactation consultant thought Little Man might have a tongue tie, but one that no surgeon might touch. The very next week our pediatrician agreed and told us to go see a specialist to find out if anything could be done.
If you haven't heard of a tongue tie, you aren't alone, though I bet you've heard the phrase "tongue-tied." If you want to know more or see pictures, google it, but it basically means there's a piece of tissue or something that attaches the tongue to the floor of the mouth. Unless clipped, it won't let the tongue move as freely, thus causing nursing problems as well as speech impediments.
Some babies have a posterior tongue tie that is harder to operate on, and since I had been told Silas's was not as pronounced I thought maybe this was the case. I knew he had a high palette (sign of a tongue tie) and he tends to lose suction, but his tongue does move out over his teeth, something that doesn't happen with most tongue tie cases.
I went into our appointment with the pediatric surgeon secretly hoping for a true tongue tie just because it would "solve" my nursing problems. (Me, looking for another solution, trying to control...story of my life!) The pain is pretty much gone now, but Little Man is still an inefficient feeder. He just takes so stinkin' long!
Well, that didn't happen. The surgeon said he doesn't see one at all, that Silas is perfectly fine. I know this is great--who wants their child to go through the agony of having something clipped in his mouth?--but it basically means that until Silas gets big enough to figure it out (or maybe never) he will just take his time.
And that has to be okay. I'm trying to remind myself that one day he won't let me hold him for 30 minutes several times a day. I also just have to organize things so that when he takes a long time to eat, I don't get stressed that we can't go here or do this, etc. And besides, he only eats five times a day now, so things are improving!
Now, funny/could have been not so fun story about our pediatric surgeon appointment. After waiting for 20-30 minutes, we were called back. Little Man was weighed, and we were put in a room. Just as the nurse was walking out of the door, the fire alarm goes off. This was not a normal fire alarm. It was SCREECHING, and for people with epilepsy, seizures would have ensued with the flashing lights.
No one moved at first, but finally the nurse tells me we have to evacuate. I get Silas in one arm, his car seat and bag in the other, and we walk down the stairs outside. We trekked across the parking lot because if this was a real fire I wasn't going to be standing just outside the front door with all the other inconvenienced people.
After several minutes, the fire department arrived. I could tell by the length of time nothing bad was actually happening. At least I hope if there had been a fire they would've responded more quickly. The building was checked, and we were allowed back in.
The entire time we were in the building with the insane screeching, Silas didn't make a peep. He was awake, and I did my best to shove one of his ears into my side while trying to put my arm (that was holding him) over the other ear. Apparently that was unnecessary because my son just looked around, frowning, knowing very well that this was taking more time out of our day than anticipated. Thankful for that, and I really hope his hearing wasn't harmed!
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
A few more thoughts...
Regardless of what I write--a blog post, a newspaper article, even a to do list--I almost always think of something I forgot soon after finishing. So these are a few extra thoughts on what I posted yesterday about breastfeeding.
I mentioned that I'm fighting to breastfeed. There are a couple areas in my life right now where I feel like I'm fighting for things actually, but this is the one related to Little Man (that's our most used nickname for Silas. We also use Crazy Arms and occasionally Grunty McGrunterson or Grunt, for short.)
Back in the midst of the worst part of my postpartum period, my pastor sent me a couple of links to blogs on the Desiring God site. They were related to the so-called Mommy Wars that are rampant in our culture, i.e. constant comparisons and tearing down of one another. Think breastfeeding vs. formula, working mom vs. stay at home mom. They gave me a lot to think about, and I ended up downloading the DG app so I could keep up with more of the blog posts. Turns out, these two posts were part of a series, the final installment more for pregnant women.
In the post, the author wrote about how, in a very small way, there is a connection between a pregnant woman and Christ. Christ gave His body, His life, for us. Pregnant women give up their body for nine-ish months to allow another tiny human to invade and grow. While I am in no way saying the two are equal in magnitude, both are sacrifices. Christ made the Ultimate Sacrifice, and when you're pregnant you are making the big sacrifice of giving up your body. There are also several smaller sacrifices related to diet, lifestyle, etc.
That got me thinking about breastfeeding. I realized that I was still sacrificing my body in order to feed my child. Again, not on the same scale as Christ in any way, but it encouraged me to keep going. It felt good to realize I was making a sacrifice for my child at a time when I desperately wanted a sense of normalcy that just can't be established with a newborn.
So as nursing became even more difficult with setback after setback, I realized this whole thing was going to be a battle. And I decided I would fight that battle, one to two weeks at a time. Yes, ultimately I have a goal of how long I'd like to breastfeed, but it's too far in the future. To stay sane, I just look ahead one or two weeks.
Now, I definitely realize that formula is not the devil and a very good option for babies. I was formula-fed for crying out loud, and I think I turned out pretty well :) But I'm also pretty stubborn and want to give this my all before trying something else. The other night I was talking with Andrew about this whole thing and about how hard it is to keep fighting to feed Silas in this manner. I know I'm not the only mom who feels like her child's nutrition is dependent on her.
Andrew then lovingly reminded me that Little Man's survival is not dependent on me, that if I stop breastfeeding tomorrow, he won't starve to death. And deep down I do know this, I really do. But I think one reason I want to keep trying is because of the connection that has been created between us. I'm not talking about the lovey-dovey bond that some moms gush about when they think about how much they love breastfeeding their child. I didn't start out breastfeeding for the bond; I started because it's cheap. That's the honest truth.
The connection I'm thinking of has more to do with establishing a love for my child through the sacrifice. Contrary to what I thought would happen, I did not immediately fall in love with my child from the moment I saw him. And I know I'm not the only one. I loved him, yes, but I wasn't head over heels. I was probably too panicked to really get there early on. As many of my friends kept telling me, I was in survival mode those first few weeks.
I say contrary to what I thought, because if you know me well, you know that I love children and have spent a pretty good part of my life hanging out with them. I started babysitting at 12, changing diapers well before that, so on and so forth. Last year I even picked up a crying baby out of a buggy at Walmart because his mom and grandmom were dividing up the groceries and couldn't get to him. It just seemed natural that I would fall in love with my newborn baby and love being a mom.
That wasn't the case.
Two months in, I can now say that I am falling in love with my child, more so every day. And through so many things not related to nursing. But in working to overcome so many obstacles, I did create a connection with my baby that I think helped me in those days where I thought, "What the heck did I do? I had a baby?!"
One final thought: when I go play a tennis match in my head over whether I'm producing enough and if I don't pump now will that kill my supply, etc. etc., I try to remind myself that ultimately, God is in control. When someone tells me to try this pill or that method and stress seeps in, I have to remember that if I'm supposed to keep doing this, God will provide the supply...regardless of what I'm taking or if I remembered to do such and such.
And here ends my random thoughts I forgot to include yesterday. Congrats if you stuck with them to the end!
I mentioned that I'm fighting to breastfeed. There are a couple areas in my life right now where I feel like I'm fighting for things actually, but this is the one related to Little Man (that's our most used nickname for Silas. We also use Crazy Arms and occasionally Grunty McGrunterson or Grunt, for short.)
Back in the midst of the worst part of my postpartum period, my pastor sent me a couple of links to blogs on the Desiring God site. They were related to the so-called Mommy Wars that are rampant in our culture, i.e. constant comparisons and tearing down of one another. Think breastfeeding vs. formula, working mom vs. stay at home mom. They gave me a lot to think about, and I ended up downloading the DG app so I could keep up with more of the blog posts. Turns out, these two posts were part of a series, the final installment more for pregnant women.
In the post, the author wrote about how, in a very small way, there is a connection between a pregnant woman and Christ. Christ gave His body, His life, for us. Pregnant women give up their body for nine-ish months to allow another tiny human to invade and grow. While I am in no way saying the two are equal in magnitude, both are sacrifices. Christ made the Ultimate Sacrifice, and when you're pregnant you are making the big sacrifice of giving up your body. There are also several smaller sacrifices related to diet, lifestyle, etc.
That got me thinking about breastfeeding. I realized that I was still sacrificing my body in order to feed my child. Again, not on the same scale as Christ in any way, but it encouraged me to keep going. It felt good to realize I was making a sacrifice for my child at a time when I desperately wanted a sense of normalcy that just can't be established with a newborn.
So as nursing became even more difficult with setback after setback, I realized this whole thing was going to be a battle. And I decided I would fight that battle, one to two weeks at a time. Yes, ultimately I have a goal of how long I'd like to breastfeed, but it's too far in the future. To stay sane, I just look ahead one or two weeks.
Now, I definitely realize that formula is not the devil and a very good option for babies. I was formula-fed for crying out loud, and I think I turned out pretty well :) But I'm also pretty stubborn and want to give this my all before trying something else. The other night I was talking with Andrew about this whole thing and about how hard it is to keep fighting to feed Silas in this manner. I know I'm not the only mom who feels like her child's nutrition is dependent on her.
Andrew then lovingly reminded me that Little Man's survival is not dependent on me, that if I stop breastfeeding tomorrow, he won't starve to death. And deep down I do know this, I really do. But I think one reason I want to keep trying is because of the connection that has been created between us. I'm not talking about the lovey-dovey bond that some moms gush about when they think about how much they love breastfeeding their child. I didn't start out breastfeeding for the bond; I started because it's cheap. That's the honest truth.
The connection I'm thinking of has more to do with establishing a love for my child through the sacrifice. Contrary to what I thought would happen, I did not immediately fall in love with my child from the moment I saw him. And I know I'm not the only one. I loved him, yes, but I wasn't head over heels. I was probably too panicked to really get there early on. As many of my friends kept telling me, I was in survival mode those first few weeks.
I say contrary to what I thought, because if you know me well, you know that I love children and have spent a pretty good part of my life hanging out with them. I started babysitting at 12, changing diapers well before that, so on and so forth. Last year I even picked up a crying baby out of a buggy at Walmart because his mom and grandmom were dividing up the groceries and couldn't get to him. It just seemed natural that I would fall in love with my newborn baby and love being a mom.
That wasn't the case.
Two months in, I can now say that I am falling in love with my child, more so every day. And through so many things not related to nursing. But in working to overcome so many obstacles, I did create a connection with my baby that I think helped me in those days where I thought, "What the heck did I do? I had a baby?!"
One final thought: when I go play a tennis match in my head over whether I'm producing enough and if I don't pump now will that kill my supply, etc. etc., I try to remind myself that ultimately, God is in control. When someone tells me to try this pill or that method and stress seeps in, I have to remember that if I'm supposed to keep doing this, God will provide the supply...regardless of what I'm taking or if I remembered to do such and such.
And here ends my random thoughts I forgot to include yesterday. Congrats if you stuck with them to the end!
Monday, July 2, 2012
My battle (thus far) to breastfeed
News flash: Delivering a baby is NOT the hardest thing about having a baby...even if you do it sans drugs. And neither is breastfeeding, though the purpose of this post is to complain talk about the troubles Silas and I have had so far. (What is the hardest thing about having a baby? I'm gonna go with the actual parenting part, but more on that and my panic attacks regarding it in future posts.)
While I didn't think nursing would be an easy thing--I knew it would be painful in the beginning--I didn't realize how much stress and frustration it could cause a person. Sure, I've had friends and relatives who've had the occasional case of mastitis, and I've had friends who've made every effort to pump/supplement/nurse to overcome production issues and nourish slow-gaining babies. Because of that knowledge I always said I would try to breastfeed, acknowledging it might not work out for whatever reason.
However, I never imagined my first opportunity to try and feed my child the "natural" way would go the way it has.
From the very beginning the information I received was confusing.
"Your baby hasn't eaten in 24 hours? That's wrong!" -- hospital pediatricians
"Don't worry that your baby hasn't eaten since after the delivery. Not eating in the first 24 hours is just fine; he was nourished by the placenta up until he came out." -- the lactation specialists in the hospital
Like many babies, Silas was a sleepy eater. And like many babies, Silas lost weight in the first days of his life. But he lost more than the pediatricians wanted, so that meant it was time to supplement. The culprit? Possibly slow milk production.
Silas was born on a Thursday night, and we left the hospital Sunday morning. That week we had three visits to the pediatrician and one visit to the free lactation support time at our pediatrician's office. On Monday, Silas was still losing. On Tuesday, he held steady. I was told to pump and use this tube feeder apparatus to supplement after every feeding. On Wednesday, I was given a list of things to try to increase my milk production, including an herbal supplement that would increase prolactin (milk-producing hormone) as well as mammary tissue. On Thursday, we rested. On Friday, we were back at the pediatrician.
At our third visit to the doc, Silas still wasn't on track with his weight. The plan we were given was to continue pumping and supplementing, do a weight check at lactation the following Wednesday and come back the following Friday. (By this time we had replaced the tube feeder with one we could tape to our finger. The tube had a sharp end, and the supplemental nursing system (SNS) worked so much better. It did take forever though...) We were told to supplement after every other feeding.
Maybe it was my panic over the fact that I was now responsible for a human, or maybe it was the stress of pumping, nursing and supplementing--okay all of the above--but I couldn't bear to continue that for another week. I broke down crying and asked about formula.
The new plan: stop pumping and supplement with formula in a bottle. No more stressful pumping sessions, no more worrying over not getting anything while pumping and no more slow supplement gadgets. Before I could even think about "nipple confusion" the doctor said he didn't believe in it. Thankfully things worked out, and Silas never had trouble switching back and forth.
Over the next couple of weeks things got better (still painful, but better). The herbal supplement really seemed to do the trick because I was producing well enough to not need to supplement most of the time. We really only used formula when I needed to get out of the house, we had a sitter and not enough pumped milk or during some "growth spurt feedings" that lasted 45 minutes to an hour and caused me lots and lots of pain. (As of today, Silas hasn't had formula in over two weeks.)
Then BAM. Mastitis. Fever, chills, flu-like aches. And a clogged milk duct. Yippee. I went to the midwife and started on an antibiotic. Three days later I was in the same place. New antibiotic. Finally, relief and things were looking up...or were they? The clogged duct never went away, and I was sent for a breast ultrasound and a visit to a breast surgeon. Instead of draining it, we waited, and it started to dry up on its own.
While at the surgeon's office I asked about another spot I was worried about. It didn't feel like a plugged duct, and due to my family's ridiculous history with breast and ovarian cancer, I wanted an expert opinion. And apparently another ultrasound. At least it came back as "nothing suspicious."
During the next couple of weeks I started taking another herb to try and prevent clogged ducts, along with a probiotic. I haven't done the math, but all of the herbs and prescriptions kept me digging into my wallet quite often.
This brings us up to June 16. I'll spare the details, but I was hit (and rather quickly, I might add) with another case of mastitis. I got on antibiotics again and was better in two or three days. The end, right?
Unfortunately not.
Last Tuesday I was doing some reading about breastfeeding and pain. Apparently, by now I shouldn't be experiencing any pain. So why was I? I headed back to the lactation support time the next morning. It seemed that Silas might have a tongue tie, meaning his tongue was anchored by tissue and couldn't function in a way to nurse efficiently. This would explain the pain I was having and why he still took at least 30 minutes to feed every time. However, it could also be something entirely different.
Not wanting to wait another week for his two-month appointment, last Thursday I went to see a lactation specialist at the hospital where I gave birth. I learned Silas probably does have a tongue tie, but not one that a surgeon would be willing to take on more than likely. (The tissue is clipped, allowing the tongue to move more freely.) Another dead end...with a possible dirt path to the side.
Apparently, the specialist felt like I might have yeast (yes, it seems you can have a yeast infection in the nursing area, too.) So, Silas and I are both being treated for yeast since we can pass it back and forth. More than just pills, creams and droppers of medicine, I have to boil anything that goes in his mouth and wash anything that touches my chest in hot water. And hang it in the sun to dry (sun=natural yeast killer). Yes, I am that girl who is hanging my bras on a clothesline. I'd also like to hang a sign that says "Mom killing bad stuff in order to continue breastfeeding. Please look the other way for a couple of weeks."
And that's where we are. Whew.
I'm giving the yeast treatment two weeks, and on Thursday I'll have Silas's pediatrician check out this probable tongue tie that possibly no surgeon will touch even if we want to. Oh, and I was told to stop pumping and building my freezer supply. And that if it turns out to be yeast, I will need to throw out all of the milk pumped while I was in pain. Oh the agony!
I'm well aware that we can switch to formula at any time. But if you stuck with this insanely long post, you may realize we've spent a lot of time and money to try to continue to breastfeed. For that reason alone I've decided to keep fighting for this.
...though if something else strikes, I may reevaluate.
So for my pregnant friends and those who aren't, breastfeeding is tough. Tougher than society lets on. And tougher than your mom remembers. It's definitely been a battle for this new mommy.
While I didn't think nursing would be an easy thing--I knew it would be painful in the beginning--I didn't realize how much stress and frustration it could cause a person. Sure, I've had friends and relatives who've had the occasional case of mastitis, and I've had friends who've made every effort to pump/supplement/nurse to overcome production issues and nourish slow-gaining babies. Because of that knowledge I always said I would try to breastfeed, acknowledging it might not work out for whatever reason.
However, I never imagined my first opportunity to try and feed my child the "natural" way would go the way it has.
From the very beginning the information I received was confusing.
"Your baby hasn't eaten in 24 hours? That's wrong!" -- hospital pediatricians
"Don't worry that your baby hasn't eaten since after the delivery. Not eating in the first 24 hours is just fine; he was nourished by the placenta up until he came out." -- the lactation specialists in the hospital
Like many babies, Silas was a sleepy eater. And like many babies, Silas lost weight in the first days of his life. But he lost more than the pediatricians wanted, so that meant it was time to supplement. The culprit? Possibly slow milk production.
Silas was born on a Thursday night, and we left the hospital Sunday morning. That week we had three visits to the pediatrician and one visit to the free lactation support time at our pediatrician's office. On Monday, Silas was still losing. On Tuesday, he held steady. I was told to pump and use this tube feeder apparatus to supplement after every feeding. On Wednesday, I was given a list of things to try to increase my milk production, including an herbal supplement that would increase prolactin (milk-producing hormone) as well as mammary tissue. On Thursday, we rested. On Friday, we were back at the pediatrician.
At our third visit to the doc, Silas still wasn't on track with his weight. The plan we were given was to continue pumping and supplementing, do a weight check at lactation the following Wednesday and come back the following Friday. (By this time we had replaced the tube feeder with one we could tape to our finger. The tube had a sharp end, and the supplemental nursing system (SNS) worked so much better. It did take forever though...) We were told to supplement after every other feeding.
Maybe it was my panic over the fact that I was now responsible for a human, or maybe it was the stress of pumping, nursing and supplementing--okay all of the above--but I couldn't bear to continue that for another week. I broke down crying and asked about formula.
The new plan: stop pumping and supplement with formula in a bottle. No more stressful pumping sessions, no more worrying over not getting anything while pumping and no more slow supplement gadgets. Before I could even think about "nipple confusion" the doctor said he didn't believe in it. Thankfully things worked out, and Silas never had trouble switching back and forth.
Over the next couple of weeks things got better (still painful, but better). The herbal supplement really seemed to do the trick because I was producing well enough to not need to supplement most of the time. We really only used formula when I needed to get out of the house, we had a sitter and not enough pumped milk or during some "growth spurt feedings" that lasted 45 minutes to an hour and caused me lots and lots of pain. (As of today, Silas hasn't had formula in over two weeks.)
Then BAM. Mastitis. Fever, chills, flu-like aches. And a clogged milk duct. Yippee. I went to the midwife and started on an antibiotic. Three days later I was in the same place. New antibiotic. Finally, relief and things were looking up...or were they? The clogged duct never went away, and I was sent for a breast ultrasound and a visit to a breast surgeon. Instead of draining it, we waited, and it started to dry up on its own.
While at the surgeon's office I asked about another spot I was worried about. It didn't feel like a plugged duct, and due to my family's ridiculous history with breast and ovarian cancer, I wanted an expert opinion. And apparently another ultrasound. At least it came back as "nothing suspicious."
During the next couple of weeks I started taking another herb to try and prevent clogged ducts, along with a probiotic. I haven't done the math, but all of the herbs and prescriptions kept me digging into my wallet quite often.
This brings us up to June 16. I'll spare the details, but I was hit (and rather quickly, I might add) with another case of mastitis. I got on antibiotics again and was better in two or three days. The end, right?
Unfortunately not.
Last Tuesday I was doing some reading about breastfeeding and pain. Apparently, by now I shouldn't be experiencing any pain. So why was I? I headed back to the lactation support time the next morning. It seemed that Silas might have a tongue tie, meaning his tongue was anchored by tissue and couldn't function in a way to nurse efficiently. This would explain the pain I was having and why he still took at least 30 minutes to feed every time. However, it could also be something entirely different.
Not wanting to wait another week for his two-month appointment, last Thursday I went to see a lactation specialist at the hospital where I gave birth. I learned Silas probably does have a tongue tie, but not one that a surgeon would be willing to take on more than likely. (The tissue is clipped, allowing the tongue to move more freely.) Another dead end...with a possible dirt path to the side.
Apparently, the specialist felt like I might have yeast (yes, it seems you can have a yeast infection in the nursing area, too.) So, Silas and I are both being treated for yeast since we can pass it back and forth. More than just pills, creams and droppers of medicine, I have to boil anything that goes in his mouth and wash anything that touches my chest in hot water. And hang it in the sun to dry (sun=natural yeast killer). Yes, I am that girl who is hanging my bras on a clothesline. I'd also like to hang a sign that says "Mom killing bad stuff in order to continue breastfeeding. Please look the other way for a couple of weeks."
And that's where we are. Whew.
I'm giving the yeast treatment two weeks, and on Thursday I'll have Silas's pediatrician check out this probable tongue tie that possibly no surgeon will touch even if we want to. Oh, and I was told to stop pumping and building my freezer supply. And that if it turns out to be yeast, I will need to throw out all of the milk pumped while I was in pain. Oh the agony!
I'm well aware that we can switch to formula at any time. But if you stuck with this insanely long post, you may realize we've spent a lot of time and money to try to continue to breastfeed. For that reason alone I've decided to keep fighting for this.
...though if something else strikes, I may reevaluate.
So for my pregnant friends and those who aren't, breastfeeding is tough. Tougher than society lets on. And tougher than your mom remembers. It's definitely been a battle for this new mommy.
Friday, June 29, 2012
The long-awaited birth story
Silas Finn Holloway was born at 9:56 p.m. on May 3. He weighed 8 pounds 5 ounces and was 21.5 inches long. Here, finally, are the details of his birth. (p.s. I really wanted to post this weeks ago, however, subsequent posts may provide reasons for why this has taken so long! p.p.s. "gross" things may be discussed...it is a birth story after all. I warned you.)
It all began around 3 a.m. on Thursday, May 3. I woke up to some cramping that lasted until around 4:30 a.m., but I dismissed it as pretty normal. I'd been having some cramps off and on throughout the pregnancy, and while I noticed them more so the week before, I knew they could be an early sign of labor but not an imminent sign.
[Side note: I also had some nausea, another early sign of labor, the last week in April. And three days before Silas' arrival I started using evening primrose oil as suggested by my midwife to "ripen the cervix." Not sure if that's why Silas came soon after, but I'll definitely keep it in mind for any future children!]
[Side note: I also had some nausea, another early sign of labor, the last week in April. And three days before Silas' arrival I started using evening primrose oil as suggested by my midwife to "ripen the cervix." Not sure if that's why Silas came soon after, but I'll definitely keep it in mind for any future children!]
Back to May 3. I got up to start my day around 5:30 because I was going to watch my friend Erica's daughter, Adeline, for the day. It was at that time I noticed blood, which generally means the mucus plug has broken or is beginning to break up. I yelled for Andrew...though I'm not sure why. As he stumbled to the door, I spilled out what had happened and asked if I should call the midwife, basically knowing I would anyway. He agreed and went right back to bed.
While continuing to get ready to babysit, I spoke with one of my midwives who said to just watch things for the day, look for patterns and call if my water broke. Because I tested positive for strep B, I needed to come in pretty soon after my water broke, even if labor hadn't started, to get antibiotics.
I then headed out to Erica's. Once there I told her I was putting her on notice that I might go into labor while at her house so she might need to come home early. She left at 6:30, and I took to the couch. Around that time I started noticing more cramping, and they did seem to be patterned. I had already texted both of my doulas to let them know things might be happening, but sometime after 8 I decided to call Lisa. I told her that I was having low abdominal cramps every 4.5 minutes or so that lasted for about 40 seconds each. I really wanted to know if she thought I should go home in the event things began progressing quickly. We decided it might be a good idea.
Probably around 9 I called Erica to come home, which she did soon after. I actually never saw her daughter because Adeline slept late that morning. I got home around 10 and took to my couch. Andrew came home from work around 11:30 and headed back out to get us lunch. I didn't know it at that point, but Panera would be the last thing I would eat before our son was born.
We both hung out for the afternoon while I watched episode after episode of Gilmore Girls. Around 2 I started timing things again...still truly believing I was having cramps, not contractions. The pain was still really low, and I knew most contractions are felt all over. I was warned, however, that anything patterned could mean labor is happening. Around 3, after talking to Lisa again, I decided to call the midwifery office before they left for the day. My "cramps" were coming every 3-5 minutes and lasting for at least 60 seconds. I talked to Annie the midwife (I also had a doula named Annie) who told me to come in for a check since I was strep B positive. I think if I had been negative I would've been told to stay put because I wasn't terribly uncomfortable.
We got to the hospital at 4, and apparently Annie the midwife saw us in the parking lot and was coming to meet us. On her way, she was pulled into a delivery. Annie the doula had also come to meet us to find out if we would be admitted or sent home. So Annie the doula, Andrew and I were put in a room where I was strapped to a fetal monitor and another monitor and told to sit tight, Annie the midwife would be in soon.
Two hours later Annie the midwife showed up. During that two hours, I got really uncomfortable with things strapped to me. We were able to get me unstrapped so I could sit in a rocking chair. Still somewhat unknown to me (again, thinking I'm having cramps) I was beginning active labor. By the time Annie the midwife got to my room I was dilated 4 centimeters, and my water had broken. Not really sure when that happened, but I'm guessing it was a slow leak.
She decided to keep me and start the antibiotics. This was around 6 p.m. The birthing room with the tub was available, so we all moved there and called Lisa to come. Everything that happened between 6 and 9 is somewhat of a blur. This is a summary of what I recall: rocking in a rocking chair until the tub was full, sitting in the tub which relieved my back labor, being taken out of the tub to labor again in the rocking chair. Oh, and I threw up six times during that period.
The room was pretty silent during that three hours. Apparently Andrew left the room to eat dinner, and I never even knew he was gone. The room was dimly lit, and I had my eyes closed most of the time. It took all of my mental focus to stay on top of each contraction, breathing deeply and occasionally repeating, "You can do this. You can do this."
I do remember Annie the doula breathed through nearly every contraction with me, and I alternated squeezing her hand, Lisa's hand and Andrew's hand. Andrew said he noticed my squeezing was much stronger as the night went on...eventually even a little painful! Besides repeating my mantra, the only words I recall being spoken were "water" and "ice."
Around 9 p.m. I remember looking at Lisa and asking what was going to happen next. She told me later that was the moment she knew I was ready to deliver because it was the first negative thing I had said all night. I got back in the tub and told Annie the midwife I thought I might be ready to push. The time had come, and what I had heard would happen in a natural birth did--my body knew it was time!
Annie the midwife checked to see if I was indeed dilated far enough, and she said something to the effect of, "When you're ready, give it a shot!" It took me a few contractions to get the hang of pushing--I initially tried to keep breathing through the contraction and push at the same time. That is a terrible idea, and one that my midwife corrected pretty quickly. Once I figured it out things went pretty smoothly. I got 3-4 pushes in per contraction, and soon after I began pushing I felt burning. From my reading I knew that meant the head had come down.
They told me to reach down and feel it, which scared the heck out of me. I finally did it, and rather than feeling a round circle, I only felt a sliver. That disappointed me because I thought I would feel more than I did. I kept going though, and eventually Annie the midwife told me to take a break. Shortly after that I started pushing again, and Silas came out!
We, of course, didn't know he was a he at that point. I held this gray, squirmy little thing to my chest and kept looking at Andrew. I couldn't decide if I wanted to cry, laugh or catch my breath from all the pushing and guttural-type noises I had been making. (My throat was sore for a day from throwing up and the noises made while pushing.) I then remembered we had no idea what our baby was.
I asked Andrew if he knew--nope. I asked Annie the midwife what we'd had, and she didn't know either! She hadn't looked. Andrew told me weeks before that he didn't want to be the one to tell me in case he messed up, so I asked Annie to check. Yep, we'd had a boy! Andrew and I were a little in shock since we really felt like we were having a girl. So in shock that Andrew had to take a minute to remember the name we'd chosen, and he had forgotten the middle name completely.
The hard part was over, but we weren't done yet. After the umbilical cord stopped pulsing, Annie the midwife helped Andrew cut it. She and Lisa then helped me out of the tub and onto a hospital bed so I could deliver the placenta and have my tear repaired.
The rest of the night consisted of playing with the placenta (Andrew), nursing (Silas) and talking a whole bunch (me). Apparently all the adrenaline from getting through the birth woke me up, and I talked until at least midnight. By then we were in our room for the weekend, complete with double bed!
I'm extremely thankful everything went well and we had a drug-free, intervention-free (minus the antibiotics for strep B) delivery. Things moved so quickly that night that we had to stay an extra day for Silas to be monitored because he came just shy of four hours after I was given penicillin. The hospital pediatricians like moms to get at least two doses, but Silas came too soon for that.
Our doulas commented that they never even got into their "doula bags." I had every intention of trying several different ways to labor--hands and knees (using Lisa's newly-purchased garden pads), the rebozo, the birth ball, music, on and on. But active labor came on so fast, and I could barely move. Getting up to go to the bathroom or to the birthing tub took everything I had, so I preferred to sit very still, leaning back, to get through each contraction.
One final thing I'll say about that night, and then we'll call it quits for this lengthy post. I'm so glad we hired a doula (and ended up with two!) and went with a midwife. Lisa and Annie the doula prepared us so well and were great that night, and Annie the midwife was fantastic. She never even left the room during the entire laboring process! Again, so grateful for the ways things went...all by the grace of God.
I'll post more pictures from that night (well, the G-rated ones, which are mainly of Silas...I did give birth in a tub after all), but here are a few of baby Silas in those first days at the hospital:
While continuing to get ready to babysit, I spoke with one of my midwives who said to just watch things for the day, look for patterns and call if my water broke. Because I tested positive for strep B, I needed to come in pretty soon after my water broke, even if labor hadn't started, to get antibiotics.
I then headed out to Erica's. Once there I told her I was putting her on notice that I might go into labor while at her house so she might need to come home early. She left at 6:30, and I took to the couch. Around that time I started noticing more cramping, and they did seem to be patterned. I had already texted both of my doulas to let them know things might be happening, but sometime after 8 I decided to call Lisa. I told her that I was having low abdominal cramps every 4.5 minutes or so that lasted for about 40 seconds each. I really wanted to know if she thought I should go home in the event things began progressing quickly. We decided it might be a good idea.
Probably around 9 I called Erica to come home, which she did soon after. I actually never saw her daughter because Adeline slept late that morning. I got home around 10 and took to my couch. Andrew came home from work around 11:30 and headed back out to get us lunch. I didn't know it at that point, but Panera would be the last thing I would eat before our son was born.
We both hung out for the afternoon while I watched episode after episode of Gilmore Girls. Around 2 I started timing things again...still truly believing I was having cramps, not contractions. The pain was still really low, and I knew most contractions are felt all over. I was warned, however, that anything patterned could mean labor is happening. Around 3, after talking to Lisa again, I decided to call the midwifery office before they left for the day. My "cramps" were coming every 3-5 minutes and lasting for at least 60 seconds. I talked to Annie the midwife (I also had a doula named Annie) who told me to come in for a check since I was strep B positive. I think if I had been negative I would've been told to stay put because I wasn't terribly uncomfortable.
We got to the hospital at 4, and apparently Annie the midwife saw us in the parking lot and was coming to meet us. On her way, she was pulled into a delivery. Annie the doula had also come to meet us to find out if we would be admitted or sent home. So Annie the doula, Andrew and I were put in a room where I was strapped to a fetal monitor and another monitor and told to sit tight, Annie the midwife would be in soon.
Two hours later Annie the midwife showed up. During that two hours, I got really uncomfortable with things strapped to me. We were able to get me unstrapped so I could sit in a rocking chair. Still somewhat unknown to me (again, thinking I'm having cramps) I was beginning active labor. By the time Annie the midwife got to my room I was dilated 4 centimeters, and my water had broken. Not really sure when that happened, but I'm guessing it was a slow leak.
She decided to keep me and start the antibiotics. This was around 6 p.m. The birthing room with the tub was available, so we all moved there and called Lisa to come. Everything that happened between 6 and 9 is somewhat of a blur. This is a summary of what I recall: rocking in a rocking chair until the tub was full, sitting in the tub which relieved my back labor, being taken out of the tub to labor again in the rocking chair. Oh, and I threw up six times during that period.
The room was pretty silent during that three hours. Apparently Andrew left the room to eat dinner, and I never even knew he was gone. The room was dimly lit, and I had my eyes closed most of the time. It took all of my mental focus to stay on top of each contraction, breathing deeply and occasionally repeating, "You can do this. You can do this."
I do remember Annie the doula breathed through nearly every contraction with me, and I alternated squeezing her hand, Lisa's hand and Andrew's hand. Andrew said he noticed my squeezing was much stronger as the night went on...eventually even a little painful! Besides repeating my mantra, the only words I recall being spoken were "water" and "ice."
Around 9 p.m. I remember looking at Lisa and asking what was going to happen next. She told me later that was the moment she knew I was ready to deliver because it was the first negative thing I had said all night. I got back in the tub and told Annie the midwife I thought I might be ready to push. The time had come, and what I had heard would happen in a natural birth did--my body knew it was time!
Annie the midwife checked to see if I was indeed dilated far enough, and she said something to the effect of, "When you're ready, give it a shot!" It took me a few contractions to get the hang of pushing--I initially tried to keep breathing through the contraction and push at the same time. That is a terrible idea, and one that my midwife corrected pretty quickly. Once I figured it out things went pretty smoothly. I got 3-4 pushes in per contraction, and soon after I began pushing I felt burning. From my reading I knew that meant the head had come down.
They told me to reach down and feel it, which scared the heck out of me. I finally did it, and rather than feeling a round circle, I only felt a sliver. That disappointed me because I thought I would feel more than I did. I kept going though, and eventually Annie the midwife told me to take a break. Shortly after that I started pushing again, and Silas came out!
We, of course, didn't know he was a he at that point. I held this gray, squirmy little thing to my chest and kept looking at Andrew. I couldn't decide if I wanted to cry, laugh or catch my breath from all the pushing and guttural-type noises I had been making. (My throat was sore for a day from throwing up and the noises made while pushing.) I then remembered we had no idea what our baby was.
I asked Andrew if he knew--nope. I asked Annie the midwife what we'd had, and she didn't know either! She hadn't looked. Andrew told me weeks before that he didn't want to be the one to tell me in case he messed up, so I asked Annie to check. Yep, we'd had a boy! Andrew and I were a little in shock since we really felt like we were having a girl. So in shock that Andrew had to take a minute to remember the name we'd chosen, and he had forgotten the middle name completely.
The hard part was over, but we weren't done yet. After the umbilical cord stopped pulsing, Annie the midwife helped Andrew cut it. She and Lisa then helped me out of the tub and onto a hospital bed so I could deliver the placenta and have my tear repaired.
The rest of the night consisted of playing with the placenta (Andrew), nursing (Silas) and talking a whole bunch (me). Apparently all the adrenaline from getting through the birth woke me up, and I talked until at least midnight. By then we were in our room for the weekend, complete with double bed!
I'm extremely thankful everything went well and we had a drug-free, intervention-free (minus the antibiotics for strep B) delivery. Things moved so quickly that night that we had to stay an extra day for Silas to be monitored because he came just shy of four hours after I was given penicillin. The hospital pediatricians like moms to get at least two doses, but Silas came too soon for that.
Our doulas commented that they never even got into their "doula bags." I had every intention of trying several different ways to labor--hands and knees (using Lisa's newly-purchased garden pads), the rebozo, the birth ball, music, on and on. But active labor came on so fast, and I could barely move. Getting up to go to the bathroom or to the birthing tub took everything I had, so I preferred to sit very still, leaning back, to get through each contraction.
One final thing I'll say about that night, and then we'll call it quits for this lengthy post. I'm so glad we hired a doula (and ended up with two!) and went with a midwife. Lisa and Annie the doula prepared us so well and were great that night, and Annie the midwife was fantastic. She never even left the room during the entire laboring process! Again, so grateful for the ways things went...all by the grace of God.
I'll post more pictures from that night (well, the G-rated ones, which are mainly of Silas...I did give birth in a tub after all), but here are a few of baby Silas in those first days at the hospital:
Soon after being born
after Friday night's bath
my dad with Silas
yay for scratch mittens!
leaving the hospital Sunday
me with Lisa and Annie after Silas was born
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Preggo photos
Nah, these aren't belly shots, just some random pictures I've taken recently that involve pregnancy so I thought I'd share.
First, a picture of pregnant me with Andrew at a friend's wedding in March:
First, a picture of pregnant me with Andrew at a friend's wedding in March:
Next, something I found at the thrift store. No, I didn't buy it, though I support the message!
Andrew has this obsession with finding "pregnant parking." Even when I go to Babies 'R' Us the expectant mothers spots are taken (often by non-pregnant people, I might add...yes I'm watching you!), but the time we went together we scored one of the spaces!
Though originally we decided to get the Baby Bjorn pack and play because we'd heard amazing things about it, we got a really nice dividend from REI this year and found a pretty cool option there. It's inflatable and has a zipper, tent-like opening. Some moms who reviewed it said they would lie in the opening while nursing, gently lay the baby down when done, crawl out and zip it up. No leaning over to put the baby down! I had to test it out to see if I could not only halfway fit in, but totally fit...
Sherpa has become fascinated by all the baby stuff entering our house.
And one final picture. We used some of the decoration from my baby shower in the baby's room:
Monday, April 30, 2012
Living room redo
Heading into 2012 I had three things I wanted to accomplish, or rather three rooms: finish the major parts of the kitchen, paint the living room and install the ceiling there and redo our guest room for the baby. My plan was to do the kitchen in January, the living room in February and the baby's room in March. Like usual, my plans didn't pan out, but as of April the majority of those things have happened. Andrew made a little more progress in the kitchen (we still need trim, a couple of outlets, knobs/pulls and eventually a backsplash), he painted the baby's room while I was in Alabama over President's Day weekend and we did make progress in the living room, though that didn't happen until a few weeks ago.
While I was at my baby shower here in Mass, Andrew and Brett got started on installing the ceiling for the living room. A couple of the other husbands came over to help, so by the time I came home from my shower, the sheetrock was all in place.
Then the following Saturday of Easter weekend, we had a few friends over to help us paint the living room and the hallway. We chose a color called "driftwood" from Ben Moore's low VOC line (so I could help). It has brown in it, but it's sort of different. Under certain lighting it has a purple-ish tint--this is usually seen more at night. It goes well with the blue in the kitchen, too.
Painting went really fast--we started around 10 and were done in time for a late lunch. It helped that Andrew tore down all the trim and crown molding--we'll eventually replace that, but Baby Floyd will have made an appearance by then.
Many many thanks to our friends Brett, Jim, Ryan (ceiling crew), Laura, Kristin and Dan (painting crew) for giving up their Saturday mornings to help us get this project done. I feel a lot better knowing that the major work is complete. We still need to tape, mud, sand and paint the ceiling, but I can help Andrew with that after the baby is born. Then we'll also finish painting the trim around the windows and install new base trim and crown molding. Just the little things! And now, should our child decide to suck on the wall, the lead paint has been encapsulated. Threat level = majorly diminished!
Another plus: I can finally get curtains in the living room! (Many of you are thinking...why did you wait? Now I can get something to match the colors in the living room and kitchen, and had I done this a year ago, I totally would've changed my mind on colors by now!)
While I was at my baby shower here in Mass, Andrew and Brett got started on installing the ceiling for the living room. A couple of the other husbands came over to help, so by the time I came home from my shower, the sheetrock was all in place.
We decided we'd rent a lift this time around--putting up the ceiling in the kitchen was definitely a test for our marriage! The lift seemed to work really well for the guys, and I got a couple of pictures before I left for my shower.
Then the following Saturday of Easter weekend, we had a few friends over to help us paint the living room and the hallway. We chose a color called "driftwood" from Ben Moore's low VOC line (so I could help). It has brown in it, but it's sort of different. Under certain lighting it has a purple-ish tint--this is usually seen more at night. It goes well with the blue in the kitchen, too.
Painting went really fast--we started around 10 and were done in time for a late lunch. It helped that Andrew tore down all the trim and crown molding--we'll eventually replace that, but Baby Floyd will have made an appearance by then.
I mostly painted near door trim and around our bar supports,
then went to pick up lunch for everyone :)
Our friend Dan was amazing--he did most of the painting around windows and door trim,
and we saved time by not having to tape
We just moved everything to the center of the room and knocked it out!
After lunch, Andrew and I ran a couple of errands, then came back to quickly touch up a few spots. We had enough paint to redo the dresser we bought to use as a changing table in the baby's room--so not only did we finish painting the living room and hallway, we also finished up our final piece of furniture for Baby Floyd!
Many many thanks to our friends Brett, Jim, Ryan (ceiling crew), Laura, Kristin and Dan (painting crew) for giving up their Saturday mornings to help us get this project done. I feel a lot better knowing that the major work is complete. We still need to tape, mud, sand and paint the ceiling, but I can help Andrew with that after the baby is born. Then we'll also finish painting the trim around the windows and install new base trim and crown molding. Just the little things! And now, should our child decide to suck on the wall, the lead paint has been encapsulated. Threat level = majorly diminished!
Another plus: I can finally get curtains in the living room! (Many of you are thinking...why did you wait? Now I can get something to match the colors in the living room and kitchen, and had I done this a year ago, I totally would've changed my mind on colors by now!)
Friday, April 27, 2012
Easy pillow covers
I found some great fabric I wanted to use in the nursery so I decided to make a couple of pillows for our glider. My friend Kate taught me how to do this, and it's super easy--no zippers involved! (Though I do plan to learn how to sew a zipper...eventually.)
Here's what one of the finished pillows looks like:
Gather these materials:
- fabric
- pillow
- pins
- iron
- scissors/rotary cutter
I was making two pillows, both sized 14x14. You need three pieces of fabric for this type of pillowcase--one for the front and two that overlap on the back. I planned to sew with a 1/2 inch seam allowance so I cut my front piece to be 15x15. The size of the back pieces depends on how fluffy your pillow is. I've made these before where my pieces just barely met in the back, so now I cut them larger than I initially think I'll need. I cut two 15x10 pieces, and those worked out perfectly. I had one pillow that was fluffier than the other, and both turned out great.
You should probably iron your fabric before you start, but since my ironing board is finicky--sometimes it just collapses in on itself--I iron on a towel on the table. Because of this and being so pregnant, I'd rather iron less fabric, so I did my cutting first, then ironed the pieces before sewing.
Next, you'll want to turn under one edge of each back piece, pin it in place and sew it. This will give you finished edges where you put the pillow in. Do this with one of the longer edges, for me a 15-inch edge.
I made one polka-dotted pillow and another using brown houndstooth. Because we're Alabama fans (think houndstooth and elephants), I wanted to add elephants to the houndstooth fabric. Though Bama colors are crimson and white, our nursery is green, brown and teal. Here's what I came up with:
You should probably iron your fabric before you start, but since my ironing board is finicky--sometimes it just collapses in on itself--I iron on a towel on the table. Because of this and being so pregnant, I'd rather iron less fabric, so I did my cutting first, then ironed the pieces before sewing.
Next, you'll want to turn under one edge of each back piece, pin it in place and sew it. This will give you finished edges where you put the pillow in. Do this with one of the longer edges, for me a 15-inch edge.
I sew these pieces as close to the edge as I can.
After you have one finished edge for each back piece, you'll put the three pieces together and pin them all the way around. You want right sides together for this (see progression):
top piece, right side up
one back piece, right side down
add the second back piece, right side down, overlapping the first back piece
Pin and sew all the way around--again, I did a 1/2-inch seam allowance. Trim the corners for a neater "inside-out flip."
Finally, flip the fabric inside out and stuff your pillow in!
See the gap?
I cut a rectangle of this green elephant fabric...
then turned the edges under and ironed them down...
then pinned the elephants onto the top piece of houndstooth fabric...
then sewed the elephants on!
(You would do this before putting all three pieces together, btw.)
Finished pillows!
Project Update:
Remember the shutter I cleaned up for our travel wall project? I finally got all the letters I needed from Michael's, stained them with leftover floor stain from last year, finished the shutter and Andrew hung the beginnings of our wall on Sunday:
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Tie-dying onesies
This is my friend Lauren.
Lauren is also pregnant, due Aug. 31. She and her husband have decided, like us, they will wait until the baby is born to find out boy or girl. We're not alone!
When you aren't finding out what you're having, you tend to acquire fewer clothes than people who know the baby's gender. Andrew and I are fine with this--we've stocked up on a few essential gender-neutral outfits in newborn and 0-3 months to get us through the first few days. Neither of us has a problem with our baby wearing basic white onesies either.
However, I decided it would be fun to tie-dye some onesies so my baby has a few things with color. Lauren was game because she'll be in the same boat very soon.
After checking the Internet on how to actually tie-dye things (pretty sure I haven't done this since Girl Scouts), we decided buying a kit would be the best plan. We wouldn't have eight pots of different colors, and onesies are so tiny, dipping the separate sections might be difficult. We picked up a Tulip kit at Walmart with five colors of dye, five squeeze bottles, instructions, lots of gloves and rubber bands for $20, so $10 each. We made around 12 onesies and have extra dye packets for a rainy day.
We used the guide to pick out the different "techniques" we wanted to try, then banded up our bright white onesies indoors.
We moved outside to do the actual tie-dying. Here are some pics of the wet, dyed onesies:
A few of my finished onesies! We'll definitely have one colorful baby!
**A question for those of you in Western Mass: can you get snow cones in New England? Lauren's from Texas, and I'm from Alabama--we both grew up with snow cone shacks all over the place, and when dying these outfits, we realized squeezing dye onto fabric reminded us of how snow cones are made. We then realized we've not had a snow cone since moving up here! Do these delicious treats exist in this part of the country? If you know, comment so I can no longer be deprived!
Monday, April 23, 2012
Strep B Saga continued…
Since my first post on my strep B positive result (if you
need a catch up, click here), I had another midwife appointment, and I’m
feeling a little better about things. I think I’ll backtrack a bit though to
continue the story.
In my last post I wrote that I tested positive for GBS, and
I explained why this result might change how things go for labor and delivery. Here’s
the rest of the story:
Alternative treatment
to antibiotics
At my 35-week appointment (when I tested for strep B) the
midwife was telling me that in Europe practitioners have been studying a type
of wash they feel can reduce mother to newborn transmission of the bacteria.
Instead of giving a mother penicillin or some other antibiotic, they use a wash
in the time leading up to a vaginal delivery to reduce the possibility of the
bacteria being picked up by the newborn.
She said they’ve seen very good results with this
alternative, but unfortunately, the studies have yet to be replicated in the
U.S.
Fast forward to the following
week when I had my appointment to discuss my strep B result. I left that
appointment somewhat discouraged, knowing I would have to have antibiotics with
the birth and all of that. I headed to Cradle, a baby store in Northampton that
has tons of resources and offers workshops and classes during pregnancy and for
the postpartum period. They also sell cloth diapering items, baby carriers, etc. I was headed to purchase some final things on my registry,
and I mentioned to one of the women behind the counter that I had tested
positive for GBS. She immediately went to a file and handed me some information
on an alternative treatment, then encouraged me to ask about being retested at my
next appointment.
Turns out, the info she gave me was from one of the European
studies I’d been told about. The method uses Chlorhexidine (sold under the name
Hibiclens) and water. It can be applied in one of two ways, and according to
the study, researchers found washing or “flushing” with this mixture to have
the same efficacy as using an antibiotic.
I wasn’t sure if you could buy Hibiclens around here, and I
first wanted to run the study by my midwives. At my appointment on Friday I
asked about being retested and mentioned the information I was given. The
midwife I saw attended a conference last year on this very treatment, and she also
said there are herbs you can take that some find to help rid a person of the
bacteria. Unfortunately, I’m a little too close to my due date to try these
alternatives, and even if I were to retest and have a negative result, the first
positive on my chart will stay with me. Apparently, once I’m at the hospital,
the pediatricians there would see the first positive and still insist I have
the antibiotic, regardless of a second negative test. If I opted out, they
would run tons of tests on the baby following birth and keep it under close
watch for at least 48 hours. So basically, at this point, I may as well accept
the positive and proceed.
For the next pregnancy, though, the midwife suggested I try
the treatment a few weeks before I would be tested, get a negative and then be
done with it. I’m definitely going to hold onto it for that reason. She also
said their office gave thought to running their own study for the moms who test
positive and choose to opt out of antibiotics. They were going to offer the
wash and herbs and track the results; however, they decided it probably
wouldn’t be well accepted at this time by the medical field. As she put it, the
U.S. isn’t “edgy” enough for this type of research!
She did encourage me that it is still entirely possible for
me to deliver without pain medication, and that even if I have to be induced
with Pitocin, it is entirely possible for me to get through the birth without
an epidural. I said something about being afraid the contractions would come so
fast I couldn’t stay on top of them, and it would be more painful since Pitocin
doesn’t offer the release the natural hormone it imitates does. She replied,
“Well, we won’t make them come so fast.” (I figured out this meant they won’t
turn the dial up so much!) So I left more encouraged that I could still deliver
naturally, even with a GBS positive result.
A word on the
mental/spiritual effect of the result
But I like control. It’s something that has consistently
hindered my relationship with God—I could probably find something I have
trouble giving up control of daily. At least weekly. I knew before this GBS
test that if things were to end in a c-section, I would have a real possibility
of being depressed and feeling like I failed. Knowing that, Andrew and I (and
friends who know) have been praying that I’ll remember who is in control of
this birth and trust that regardless of how it turns out, things went the way
the Lord had planned.
That’s why the positive result hit me the way it did. It was
one more roadblock to remind me that I’m not in control. “Doing this my way” is
prideful and sinful, and I need to not only continue to confess that but keep
praying that my faith and trust will be bigger than the outcome of this birth.
AND that if I do end up having a natural birth, the glory doesn’t go to me—it goes
to God because he’s the one with the plan and the one who got me through it.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Strep B Disappointment
Easter Sunday was a great day other than the fact I was dealt a bit of an emotional blow to my pregnancy hopes. My new midwifery office has an online portal that sends email reminders for appointments, and it also loads your test results there for you to check if you need to. I got an email that the results for my strep B test were in. Obviously by my saying I was dealt a blow, one can assume the results were positive, which they were, but I’ll stop here and give you some background on what the heck strep B is, how it affects a pregnancy and why my positive result may cause some problems for me in labor.
Between 35-37 weeks of pregnancy, moms are tested for something called Group B Streptococcus, or GBS. This is not strep throat. That is apparently a bacteria called strep A. Strep B is a bacteria that approximately 30% of women carry—I apologize for suddenly throwing these terms out, but it’s all medical—in their vagina or rectum. Apparently it can also be in your lower intestine, but since your baby doesn’t come in contact with that area, the test is performed by swabbing the other two areas mentioned.
I felt like this wordy post needed a picture. This is what I got when I Googled strep B. This and screaming baby pictures. (From I-am-pregnant.com)
(I believe, from the quick Google searches I’ve done, that men can also carry this bacteria, but since they don’t give birth, I haven’t really looked into how it affects them. Sorry if you're a dude and hoping for that information.)
The reason women aren’t tested until 35-37 weeks is because this bacteria can come and go. The carrier may never know she has it unless she becomes pregnant and is tested for it. Even then, she could’ve carried it at one point but not be carrying it at the time of the test, resulting in a negative result. Basically—I tested positive this time, but with my next pregnancy, or even if I were tested again in two months, I might not have it.
So how does this affect pregnancy?
When a baby is born and passes through the birth canal, there is the possibility it can pick up the strep B bacteria if the mother is a carrier. There is no way of knowing which babies will contract it and which ones won’t. The most common illnesses/diseases the bacteria causes in newborns are sepsis, pneumonia and meningitis—all very bad things for a newborn to have. There is some commentary on the bacteria also affecting the mother, but from the majority of what I’ve read and been told by medical professionals, the concern is for the baby, not the mother.
In order to prevent the baby from catching the bacteria, mothers are given penicillin intravenously every 4-6 hours during labor. Administering the antibiotic significantly reduces the chance a baby will get strep B. The most common stats I’ve read say 1 in 200 babies will pick up the bacteria if no antibiotics are given whereas 1 in 4000 pick it up with the antibiotic. So it’s a really good thing to let them give you antibiotics, though some women opt out. At that point, pediatricians watch the baby very closely for signs of illness.
[I should probably also mention that this bacteria hasn’t always been tested for—I’m fairly certain my mother wasn’t.]
Now, why did me finding out I tested positive make me so upset? It’s just a little IV, and I don’t even have to be attached to the pole. I can get the drug, have it plugged and continue to labor as I please—even giving birth in the birthing tub if I so choose.
Well, it just complicates some other hopes a bit more. Two main things will change. Number one: if my water breaks before labor starts (happens in fewer than 10% of women) I will have to get to the hospital for the antibiotic. If this happened and I had tested negative, I might be given up to 24 hours for labor to begin on its own (totally dependent upon practitioner). Because I tested positive, I’ll only have maybe 12 hours before they’ll want to induce.
Number two: I won’t be able to labor at home as long as I wanted. Because pediatricians like to see the dose given at least four hours before the baby is delivered (like you can technically plan these things), I will need to head to the hospital and arrive hopefully at 5-6 cm dilated as opposed to maybe showing up at 8-9. My midwife told me today that most docs like to get two doses in, but since some women progress quickly, that isn’t always possible. If for some reason I were to get there and give birth in less than four hours or even so quickly the meds can’t be given, they will just watch the baby very closely. But ultimately, they’re going to want me there sooner than if I had tested negative.
I’ve decided I’m going to end my post here and tell you the rest of the story with my next post. I was presented with some research of alternate ways to deal with a GBS positive result that I want to share, and I also think it’s important to talk about why I finally determined this upset me so much. All that to come…stay tuned!
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Maaronthon Monday!
For those of you not living in Massachusetts, you may not know that Monday was a holiday for most people in the state. It's called Patriots' Day, and it happens on the third Monday in April. (It apparently also occurs in Maine, you can see Wikipedia if you want to know why. They put the apostrophe before the 's.') Three major things happen on this day:
1. The reenactments of the Battles of Lexington and Concord (why we observe the day in the first place)
2. The Red Sox play at home.
3. The Boston Marathon is run, and the day is known to many as Marathon Monday.
Andrew and I still haven't been to a reenactment, though it is on my mental list of things to do in Mass. This year, though, we did watch the Boston Marathon because our good friend Aaron qualified, thus making Monday "mAARONthon monday." (I can't take credit for the fun name--accolades should be attributed to his wife Amanda.)
We headed to Boston on Sunday afternoon to have dinner and stay with Aaron and Amanda. I wasn't sure how I would do being 37 weeks pregnant and all, but we managed! Temps rose above 80, probably near 90 or so, causing race officials to offer participants a chance to not run this year and compete next year. Even with a leg injury, Aaron took his chances and left early to catch his bus out to the starting line.
We watched for him around mile 21 (Newton) near the "Haunted Mile" where runners are descending from "Heartbreak Hill." Another friend from Western Mass, Cindy, cheered Aaron on near the finish line in downtown Boston. Here a few pictures from the day, and despite what a few in the crowds joked about, I did not go into labor due to the heat or trekking around Boston. Baby Floyd is still enjoying the warmth of the womb.
1. The reenactments of the Battles of Lexington and Concord (why we observe the day in the first place)
2. The Red Sox play at home.
3. The Boston Marathon is run, and the day is known to many as Marathon Monday.
Andrew and I still haven't been to a reenactment, though it is on my mental list of things to do in Mass. This year, though, we did watch the Boston Marathon because our good friend Aaron qualified, thus making Monday "mAARONthon monday." (I can't take credit for the fun name--accolades should be attributed to his wife Amanda.)
We headed to Boston on Sunday afternoon to have dinner and stay with Aaron and Amanda. I wasn't sure how I would do being 37 weeks pregnant and all, but we managed! Temps rose above 80, probably near 90 or so, causing race officials to offer participants a chance to not run this year and compete next year. Even with a leg injury, Aaron took his chances and left early to catch his bus out to the starting line.
We watched for him around mile 21 (Newton) near the "Haunted Mile" where runners are descending from "Heartbreak Hill." Another friend from Western Mass, Cindy, cheered Aaron on near the finish line in downtown Boston. Here a few pictures from the day, and despite what a few in the crowds joked about, I did not go into labor due to the heat or trekking around Boston. Baby Floyd is still enjoying the warmth of the womb.
The wheelchair athletes came first--they go insanely fast down some of the hills.
The elite women are next, followed by the elite men.
Minnie Mouse made an appearance as the men ran through...
As did "USA Man"...a little warm for this outfit, but whatever!
Amanda, the nervous wife
Aaron, the husband, spots us and runs over to kiss his wife.
We failed on getting that picture :(
Continuing the race...
Western Mass crew with the Kings
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