Friday Five - Grunt's many faces

What's that you say?

How interesting, I'll have to think about that!

That's a really interesting point you bring up!

Yes I think you're probably right but do you know what I think?

I think this is what a food coma looks like

I'm so lucky to have had the chance to love this much

Joshua laughed for me the first time this weekend. I was holding him out in front of me singing him country-song lullabyes and he opened up his mouth and giggled. It's even funnier because I was singing a "funny" country song, Lee Ann Womack's "I"ll think of a reason later". I'm delighted and, unfortunately for the rest of my house, this has only encouraged me to dance around the house with Grunt singing him country songs even freakin more. In fact, my father in law's coming into town tomorrow and I really should be cleaning the house right now. But I just can't think of anything more important than dancing around the house singing songs to Joshie.

God continues to work miracles in my life.

It still hasn't entirely set in that I've got a baby. I've got a month of sleepless nights and round-the-clock feedings under my belt...and of course, I was pregnant for 9 long months. But, after all those years of infertility, I still can't quite believe it's not a dream. Sure have come a long way since the ER doctor said "you don't have the flu, you're pregnant".

Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime

Twenty-some years ago, my mom married a handsome, bearded man named Mark. He loved camping and his pick-up truck and oh man how he loved my Jersey Mama. My mom had full custody of me so naturally him and I spent a lot of time together. We shared a mutual love for popcorn and ice cream (with chocolate syrup) and when my Mama had a job working out of town, or just a job working a lot of hours, that's what we'd have for supper. Through Mountain Mark I developed a silly sense of humor and a fondness for things like Get Smart and The Jerk. I learned to laugh easily and how to camp in the rain. Oh it wasn't always sunshine and rainbows. I was a difficult teenager (to put it mildly) and there were the usual clashes over discipline, boys, etc. But when push came to shove, Mark always had my back and has always been one of my biggest "cheerleaders" and oh how I love him. At my wedding I insisted that I have a Daddy-Daughter dance with him as well. We danced to "Tiny Dancer" though Mark later said he wished we'd danced to The Best Of Times by Styx. Now that I'm grown, we share a friendship that's indescribable. He still makes me laugh and no one else really thinks we're as funny as we do. We talk every day and it is one of my greatest sorrows that him and Jersey Mama don't live closer.

So even before we found out we were having a boy, I knew I wanted to honor Mark somehow. I'm his only child and I really wanted the baby boy to have some part of Mark in him. So, our baby grunt became Joshua Mark. And every time I call him by his full name I get a little tingle of joy and warmth in my heart. I've always used Stomp's full name often (in regular conversation, when I tell him I love him, when he's in trouble of course) and I can see the trend continuing with Joshua, especially because of the love I feel for Mountain Mark.

It is only in the act of nursing that a woman realizes her motherhood in visible and tangible fashion

When I was pregnant with Nathan I knew right off the bat I wanted to breastfeed. It didn't even occur to me that moms sometimes choose to formula feed and I couldn't figure out why you would. So after Nathan shot out was born, I set about ready to breastfeed him. He got latched on properly and I thought all systems were a-go. We spent the 4 days we were in the hospital nursing furiously and I THOUGHT doing everything right. By the time we checked out of the hospital, he'd lost a lot of weight and the doctor insisted I supplement with formula. No problem, I thought, but I didn't want there to be any confusion (although, the nursery had already started giving him a pacifier, against my specific wishes and instructions). So instead of using bottles, we used an SNS. Basically it's a tube that I got taped to my breasts and the baby would latch onto the tube as well as to the nipple and nurse that way. After two very long weeks of this and taking every prescription known to man, the Lactation Consultant concluded I had simply never gotten my milk in. The LC cried as she told me I'd never be able to fully nurse Stomp and she praised me and The Viking for trying so many different things and fighting so hard to nurse. It was a really traumatic and tough time. I was exhausted and hormonal and I'd just found out my body couldn't (or wouldn't) make milk, the one thing women are inherently supposed to be able to do to care for their child. I felt like a failure as a mother and honestly, I was just confused. I'd worried about plenty of other stuff while I was pregnant but I had never in my life heard of a woman not making milk or not being able to breastfeed. It wasn't even on my radar as a potential problem. It was so traumatic for me that I talked about it at length with other boob nazis mamas while we were trying to conceive. I talked about how important it had been to me to do it and how I hoped if I ever got pregnant again I'd be able to do it the second time around. Several friends assured me that if I were armed with the right information I'd probably be able to do better this time around. Because it hadn't occurred to me that this might be a problem, I knew surprisingly little about nursing and engorgement and breastmilk and all things boob-related.

Fast forward a kajillion a few years and I get pregnant with Grunt. Once I got over the shock and ultrasounds confirmed baby was doing okay, nursing was at the top of my list of concerns. As early as my 16 week appointment, I was asking the doctor what I could do to up my chances of being able to successfully nurse Joshua. I set about researching and finding a nursing mentor. I asked a million questions of women I knew who had done it. My doctor, knowing what I went through with Stomp (even though I went through it in Albuquerque) was really just adamant that I not get too focused on it and that I absolutely not beat myself up over it, regardless of how it happened. So out came Grunt and we set about nursing as soon as we could. Unfortunately because of the effects of the anesthesia I didn't get him to nurse till 3-4 hours after my surgery. This was still a whole lot better than in Albq where I didn't get to try to nurse him until at least 6 hours post-op. In fact, I realize that the nurses in Albq really didn't give us much help at all. The LC didn't seem to really know what she was talking about and of course there was that issue of the pacifier in the nursery. In sharp contrast, the nurses here obeyed all my wishes and were like my own personal band of cheerleaders, encouraging me to nurse and helping to make sure Grunt had a proper latch/suck. I have to be honest, I was feelin like a rockstar up in there. I kept making the baby high-five me in the middle of the night as I'd whisper in his ear "we got this, Joshie, we GOT this!". But still, when we went to check out from the hospital he'd lost a significant amount of weight and the doctor wanted us to supplement with formula. Again we used the SNS. A word on the SNS: it's a lovely contraption and it has a very valid purpose. But, it's flat out torturous to use. It's a simple enough device but it leaks intermittently (so you can't even figure out when or why)and it's difficult to get the tubes positioned right and occasionally the tubes will just randomly stop working. But we dutifully used it, hoping to get my milk supply in or up, depending on what the situation was. I met with the LC here in town and she told me something I hadn't heard: they're finding out that PCOS almost guarantees you're going to have a supply issue. Nonetheless, weighing him pre and post feeding confirmed that he was getting about an ounce of breastmilk. She reassured me that although he wasn't getting enough from me, he was still getting every benefit of mama's milk. She prescribed some fenugreek, metformin and goat's rue and encouraged us to keep at it. She also told us I may very well have to supplement with formula for the entire time I breastfeed, not the news we were hoping to hear. I was to make sure I ate enough protein and drank enough water, got lots of rest (hahaha), avoided stress (double hahaha), etc. I continued to nurse him every 2 hours, using the SNS. A couple of nights of no sleep prompted us to try a bottle instead of the SNS (which is REALLY a handful in the middle of the night when you haven't had any serious sleep). Grunt liked that bottle just a little too much so we quickly switched back to the SNS. It sucked (pun intended) but we were getting through.

And then...then I got this horrible infection. There was absolutely no reason I couldn't continue to nurse, so I have. Unfortunately we've fallen off the every 2 hour wagon because it was simply necessary in the hospital. We've also quit using the SNS. What we do now is offer one or both breasts at most feedings and then give him the bottle. He no longer favors the bottle over the breast and sometimes he nurses just for the sheer comfort of it. Occasionally he nurses for over an hour. I see no problem with this and figure maybe it helps make up for the times when Mama is too tired/sick/busy (with doctor's visits, dressing changes, etc) to nurse him. I'm sure there are people out there who would harp on me for not doing it down to the second and not doing it exactly right. But the bottom line is I did it exactly right for a few weeks and it didn't do much good. But besides even that, my circumstances are a lot a little complicated right now and I'm just flat out doing the best I can. Plenty of women have given up nursing for worse reasons and I refuse to feel guilty. Baby is happy and healthy and gaining weight and thriving. And I'm continuing to nurse in the hopes that maybe we can return to a more rigorous schedule after this infection clears up.

I hold my whole world in my arms, every time i hold my baby

Our birth story (don't worry, it will not include details like cervical dilation and membrane rupture)...

Friday afternoon (July 1st), my parents came into town. We spent a fun afternoon playing in the sprinkler and laughing and enjoying being reunited. Papa Mark, in particular, spent lots of time rolling down the hill through the water with Nathan. The Viking had to work late as he was about to be off work for the next 11 days (since we were having a baby on the 5th). Our plans for the evening were simple: fireworks, sprinklers, and sandwiches for supper. Several A few beers were to be consumed by The Viking and my parents. I of course was merely planning on some watermelon and sweet tea. Our friends came over and we all settled into the grass for some fireworks. I was feeling pretty lousy but just chalked it up to being 9 months pregnant in July and all the excitement of the day. We sat in the grass and watched the fireworks. The kids played with sparklers and Jersey Mama and I hung back out of the way and laughed. At one point there was an accident with one of the artillery shells. No one was hurt but it was quite a scare. I jumped up and grabbed Nathan out of the way and soothed him. Then I joked "I think I just went into labor". It should be noted that all night long The Viking and my parents kept making jokes like "Oh hey we're here now, the baby can come anytime" and "oh hey I'm off work now, the baby can come anytime". We even joked with one member of the Trailerhood who was standing down the hill talking to me, "hey while you're down there, if the baby falls out, be ready to catch him, ok?". So anyway, after the scare with the fireworks we decided that was enough of that excitement for now. Afterall, we had 2 more nights of fireworks planned before the 4th. My parents luggage finally got delivered around 11:30 p.m. (the airline lost it) and they headed off to the hotel. At this point I was feeling really really off and had been having not-particularly-painful contractions for the last hour or so.

Stomp had fallen asleep on the sofa and The Viking and I watched some Friends and tried to unwind from a super exciting day. I started to experience an unholy amount of pain. I let Mike pass out go to sleep and I just laid there and tried to deal. When the pain kept getting worse and worse and I was having trouble timing the contractions from the pain I woke The Viking up to help me time them. After an hour or so, around 1:30 or so in the morning, I called the ER and asked what I should do. "Come in now" they told me. I called my parents at the hotel and woke them up and asked them to come to the house and sit with Nathan so I could go to the hospital. We got to the ER and I explained that I'd run out of the pills that the doc had given me to stop the contractions but that these weren't anything like the contractions I was having anyway. They monitored me and called the doc who said to give me the pills to stop the contractions and we'd see where things went (I truly believe they didn't want to try to assemble a team to deliver the baby at 3:00 a.m...which is fine with me, I'd rather they be well-rested and sharp when they deliver my kid). I continued to contract, painfully, terribly, painfully so while Mike slept. Mike told me later, "I really thought they were going to give you some more Phenagran, the contractions would stop and we'd be going home". Around 6 I called my dad and told him what was going on and that I suspected we'd be having the baby today. Around then they came back in to check me (they'd been checking in all night) and saw that I was still having very painful, very strong contractions. They called the doctor back and he said "okay, get her ready, let's deliver this kid". The L&D room then became a flurry of activity as they rushed around getting me ready to deliver in an hour. As soon as the nurse announced we were about to pop this kid outta there (my words, not hers), the contractions stopped, completely. Mike and I frantically called the people who had wanted to be in the waiting room while I delivered and people started showing up. I was extremely nervous. I've always said that having a c-section didn't bother me and wasn't that nerve wracking but I hadn't finished preparing myself for it. Afterall, Joshua wasn't due to be born until the 5th! The doctor came in and reassured me (and confessed he didn't think I'd make it past 36 weeks so he was glad we'd made it to 38 weeks and 4 days)and we got ready to go. They swept Mike away to get dressed and I walked into the OR.

That's when the Hell started. The anesthesiologist missed where he needed to get the needle. Not once...not twice...three times. Three times he stuck the needle into the nerve that ran down my right leg. The first two times he did it I screamed and started crying. I screamed loud enough I began to worry Mike would hear and would come in and, being The Protective Viking Husband he is, knock the guy out. The third time it hurt so bad I opened my mouth to scream and no sound came out. That's how bad it hurt. Eventually he got the needle where it needed to go. But then...well, I assume he was touching my face because it was the only part of me not numb, but he kept caressing my face to ask if I was okay. I was very relieved when Mike came back into the room and could keep an eye on Dr Creepy-And-Inept. Once all that was done, it was easy as pie. Dr Wonderful was there and kept talking to me about how exciting it was. The baby came out screaming, no need to spank his bottom or get him rubbed down, he came right out wailing...wailing and cold. He screamed for the entire time they worked on him. He'd taken a big gulp of fluid on his way out so it took them a few extra minutes to get him all cleaned up and cleared out. They swept him off to the nursery and the docs finished stitching me up. For some reason Dr Wonderful and the doc who was assisting him started acting out The Big Lebowski. It was...surreal.

They got me all finished up and sent off to the room. As I passed by the nursery my whole family was there and I called out to Nathan "hey baby!". He ran over to me and said "Oh hey mama. Hey, Mom? Our baby IS SO CUTE." He was so serious about it. It was adorable. Joshua was the only baby in the nursery and apparently when you have a baby here you get the big room. My hospital room was bigger than some apartments I've seen. One of the days I was in recovering, we had 10 people in there eating supper and there was plenty of room. It was super nice and the nursing staff was amazing. They helped me to get him nursing as soon as possible and got me comfortable and just really looked out for us. They were, however, a little disappointed that we wanted him in room with us. They don't get a lot of babies born here in town and they wanted us to send him to the nursery so they could snuggle him! We had a really wonderful experience (with the exception of Dr Creepy-And-Inept) and I got to experience what labor feels like. Now I'll know for next time. I had so many "labor scares" this pregnancy and I kept telling the doctor "I don't know if I'm in labor, it's never happened before, how will I know?". Now I know.

Phew, that got long-winded. Kudos to you if you read all the way through!

“A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.”

Babies, what a wonderful way to start people!

On Friday night at 2:00 am, I began having actual real contractions. We went to the hospital where they found that while I hadn't dilated, I was having serious enough contractions to try to stop them. Although, to be honest, I think they only tried to stop them so they wouldn't be assembling a crack-surgery team at 3 a.m. So anywho, they gave me some meds and I contracted until around 7 a.m. (whilst The Viking had the nerve to sleep!) when the nurse came in and said oh hey, sorry to rush you but we're going to have this baby in an hour. They began a whirlwind of equipment and needles and forms and signatures. So they got it set up and right at 8:00 a.m. they wheeled me in. After a near-disaster with the anesthesiologist (he hit the nerves in my right leg three.separate.times and some minor blood loss, Joshua Mark was born at 8:37 a.m. He weighed 8 lbs and was 21 1/4 inches long. He came out screaming right off the bat!

Mama and baby are doing well now. We are home from the hospital and so ready to sleep in our own bed. There are lots of details, pictures and funny stories to share with y'all but for right now I just want to lay down in my own bed and sleep for the two hours Joshie allows!

A brother is a friend given by Nature

Mama is currently down with Bronchitis and a sinus infection. I told Nathan I'd gone to the doctor and he told me what was wrong. In a very concerned and troubled voice he said, "What about Joshie? Is Joshie okay? Does Joshie have a sinus infection?" I said, "No babe, Joshie is just fine". Nathan said "oh PHEW!" He's very concerned about his brother's health these days. Clearly goin to be a great big brother.

"Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero."
-Marc Brown