Combo feeding is HARD!!! It takes 3 times as long to feed my boy than if I “picked a side”, so to speak. So I did… BFAR fail, once again. Anyone wanna buy a barely-used hospital-grade pump???
Otherwise, despite an epic infection that had me on 3 days IV antibiotics and 10 days oral, recovery from my c-section is going great! I feel great and baby boy is an awesome baby!! He really is everything I could ever have asked for! He ended up spending a total of 9 days in the NICU, we brought him home last Wednesday.
I must say it’s certainly been an adjustment. Gremlin is full-on into the terrible twos. It’s been a pretty steady stream of screaming, kicking, flailing temper tantrums from her for about three days now. She loves her brother and wants to help out so much. We let her do what she can, but she’s gotten really impatient and has regressed pretty badly in her vocalization. Where she used to ask so nicely for things, she’s been doing the scream and point a lot more this week. I’m hoping things settle down soon- could be wishful thinking though, since we’ve just completed the master bedroom floor and therefore will be moving back up to the main floor from our basement for sleeping. eek!
As far as the difficulties go though, it really isn’t so bad. I’m tired, still slightly sore, but I have a huge help in having my husband home, a once-a-week house cleaner, and a really content, easy baby.
I’ve also had a lot of success as far as my weight-loss goes. I was “banded” in March of 2011, and had lost a fair bit of weight before getting pregnant, about 35lbs from my heaviest weight. Well, I’m thrilled to say that I’m now at the lowest weight I’ve been in about 4 years. I’ve still got about 45lbs until my pre-marriage weight, and 90lbs before I’m at my ‘goal’. I almost crapped my pants when I stepped on the scale today, I was honestly half-expecting to see an increase in my weight- even though I can see the visible differences the loss has made. My face is less full, my wedding ring even is fitting different. I’m still all jello-y and post-partum doughy round the middle- but I’ll take it!!
baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahaahahahaahahahhahahaha…. yeah. that was a bad joke…
I’m pretty certain most, if not all, of my loyal readers are already aware that Little Man is here! This is the story, a few days late of how shiz went down.
As you already know if you’ve been keeping up with my drivel, I’ve been experiencing “prodromal” labour for a couple of weeks now. Which sucked. The contractions seemed to be increasing in severity, but never getting any regularity whatsoever. I’d contract every 5 or so minutes for an hour, just to have them slow down to about every 20 mins for an hour then pick up again… In any case, I was told by the OB covering for Dr. Awesome that if I started bleeding or leaking fluid to get my ass to the hospital. None of that ever had a chance to happen.
Friday night was pretty miserable, I barely slept, and just felt a general state of total fatigue and crap- contracting constantly, again without any rhyme or reason. I tried taking Ty.lenol to calm things down with minimal success. Saturday was worse…. much much worse. I knew the contractions I was having were labour contractions, but because they never came closer together or had any regularity whatsoever, I was extremely reluctant to go get checked out. (believe me, it’s really NOT fun to drive 1/2 an hour to the hospital to get told to “suck it up princess- it’s just false labour; faking it will not get you any sympathy here” <— yes, I WAS actually told this during my last pregnancy during the five weeks of prodromal hell I experienced- it was one of many many horrible awful very bad no good things spouted to me during that time). So anyway, by 11pm Saturday night, I was in the tub writhing in pain that was enough to bring me to tears, a very epic accomplishment considering I live in constant pain from the fibro, and so have a very very high pain tolerance. My husband, knowing this, became pretty concerned, and called L&D, who, obviously, told him to make me come in… so I argued with him for about half an hour and told him I’d just take more Ty.lenol and try to sleep it off… hahahahaahahaha
Needless to say, my husband won the argument… I went in to L&D to discover their equipment actually works, and although irregular my contractions were most definitely measuring in the level of “painful”. I was checked for dilation and given a very brief external U/S to ensure the stitch had not already ruptured. Lo and behold, my asshole cervix was opening- I was 1-2cm, with a guessed length of about 1/2-1cm only. GO ME!! There was some discussion among the OB on call and perinatologist who I love- she was the perinatologist whom I met with during my previous hospital stay- and myself on the best course of action. I was given two choices; wait it out and hope upon hope that the labour stopped, risking the stitch rupturing, hemorrhage, big mess and possible hysterectomy OR deliver this “term” baby NOW. Given the U/S dating, we all assumed I was closer to 37 weeks than 36, and because I’d been given steroids already to help with lung development, everyone agreed that was our safest course. Hubs left the hospital to take our surprisingly un-exhausted Gremlin home to bed, and I was prepped for surgery; Getting an IV started was a bitch, I got poked about 5 or so times for that, and twice to get bloodwork drawn. Then was taken down to the OR to try and get a spinal started. It actually worked out in my favor that we weren’t able to get it started, because the OB got called away to do a delivery!! By the time he go back, the spinal would have worn off- so right out to sleep I went.
The surgery went well, and at 4:07 am July 29th, 2012 my wee man was born!! A whopping 8lbs 13oz and 20 inches long! (my little short-ass!)
Unfortunately, the tale doesn’t quite end there… I awoke in a room and was asked if I would like to see my boy. It was explained that he was slightly more premature than was suspected- his estimated gestational age only 36 weeks, and that due to that, and the fact that I had GD (which can cause delay in lung development, even when controlled well), he was having a bit of trouble breathing and would need to be in the NICU. They wheeled him in to see me, CPAP mask in place, and removed his little cap to show me his abundance of dark, slightly wavy hair- he looks just like his daddy!!! I quickly dozed back off, I’d been given a goodly dose of morphine after surgery (I also had my tubes tied), but I dreamed of my sweet, dark-haired little love.
It’s now four days later and I’m your typical, exhausted, post-partum mom. Recovery from the surgery has been very hard, and complicated by the high level of activity I’ve had to maintain due to trips to the NICU, both in hospital (long friggin walk from my ward to there), and now being home, with an active toddler making daily trips to the hospital (more long friggin walks from the parkade to the NICU); almost complete lack of ability to have any sort of real “rest” between 2-3 hour wakings to pump so that wee man can get every single drop of breast milk available to him, and the stress of having a babe in NICU. For the most part, I can’t say a single bad thing about the staff at the hospital here- they have done so much and been so kind, and helpful- the complete opposite of the experience I had with Gremlin, but it’s still stressful all the same- and made harder by the fact that I do have my little Gremlin and have to divide my time between a toddler who can’t understand why mama has to be gone so much time, and a little man in the hospital who I want to be with so desperately it’s almost physically painful.
The positive side of it all is this- my sweet boy-child is here, and he is doing very well. He spent a day and a bit on CPAP, moving up to nasal cannula, and has been doing trials on room air since Wednesday. He was able to start taking the breast Wednesday night, and is a voracious little piggy! He’s definitely his father’s boy- apparently hubs’ mom used to cry when she had to feed him because he was such an insatiable little hog!! He’s a lot more alert every day, he wakes when he hears my voice every time I come to visit now and starts wiggling like mad to be picked up. He loves his paci like it’s a part of him, and is the most amazing little snuggler- when doing kangaroo care he literally tries to wrap his wee little arms around you, or grabs your finger like a lifeline- he just never wants to be let go. He is the most amazing little miracle and I love him more than life itself. I can’t wait to bring him home and have our family all together again under the same roof.
And because I have more than one child- y’all get a two-fer because I was too damn tired to update on Emilie’s 18 month well-baby check yesterday.
So- 18 months (actually about 18 1/2 months now, but fuck it- she can stay a baby a while longer right?) is awesome. She is a walking, talking, temper machine!! Man, I dare anyone to tell this girl no. Most of the time though, she is a sweet, friendly girl who is a total people pleaser. She loves to make other people laugh- her favorite word is “YAY!!” Which she does while clapping her hands together and squealing with joy. Her vocabulary is epic though! Just yesterday the health nurse stopped dead in her tracks when Gremlin, who was carrying a granola bar, dropped said granola bar and stopped and said “Oh! I dropped it!” clear as day!
Apparently, the guidelines are for her to have at least ten words- we’ve well surpassed that for a while now. She’s also, as you can see, using 2-3 word phrases. I chalk a lot of her language development up to the fact that she has two very doting parents and an extremely attentive big sister who talks to her and reads to her and plays with her a lot. It’s really quite heartwarming to see the bond between my two girls- the age difference means nothing to them- they are close as could be!
Potty training is hit-and-miss. Some days she’s gung-ho to sit on the potty, but most often actually “going” on the potty is only by accident. She is aware of when she goes pee, and will tell us if she is pooping, but doesn’t quite equate the potty with peeing and pooping yet.
All in all, things with Gremlin are going swimmingly, and things with PMG are going surprisingly well with the stress of yet another high-risk pregnancy. We had a med change for her in November, and it really seems to have done away with the lows she was experiencing on Concert@. Her new pediatrician does not doubt that she displays some ADHD qualities, but after the online testing he had me perform, she scored much higher for bi-polar as well as oppositional defiant disorder. She will also be seen by a multi-disciplinary committee who will assist with therapy and alternative treatment/respite etc.
And I am sooo having the worst pregnancy brain right now… I keep typing and then forget what the hell I’m trying to say… Time for bed!!
Granted, I have PCOS, which responded epically well to meds, so most days I don’t even feel like a real infertile. Most days which have now increased into EVERY single day…
I feel like an imposter.
I also feel like I want to punch the next damn person who tells me any of the following: “see, you just needed to relax is all!!”; “it must be because you lost all that weight!”; “it must be meant to be!!” etc etc etc…
Fuck me sideways I’m bloody pregnant!!!
And despite knowing precisely how this happened, I can’t help but wonder- HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN??? and why now? Don’t get me wrong, I am blissfully ecstatic to be in my *ahem* condition, but truly, it is not the most convenient of times. Our house is under some pretty heavy renovations- our bathroom is more-or-less in a state of complete destruction- we have working (ish) fixtures, but parts of floors and walls are missing!! Our bathtub feels like it may fall through the floor at any minute, and our toilet does not have a lid… just the ring!! The sink leaks like it thinks it’s the almighty and our bathroom the world with Gremlin’s bath toys as the ark and animals! I’ve only just finished my probationary period at my job, which I love and would sincerely die a little inside to lose. I know they can’t terminate me for being pregnant, but with the risk factors involved in carrying to term… at least I work for a doctor right? Best place for a high risk pregnancy to be!! My husband has only finished one term of his two-year education- who knows how his job searching will go when he’s finished, will we even be able to afford a third child!!??
So mostly, I’m shitting myself… except as those of you long-term readers may remember- my body thinks shitting while pregnant is HIGHLY overrated.
And once upon a time I said this WASN’T going to turn into a pregnancy blog… my bad. Have I mentioned I’ve been busy? with work, and demolishing my house???
Look pretty girls!!!
See how I distracted you there??? I’m an evil genius!!
I met my very first sanctimommy today.
I had to take little Gremlin for her immunizations (only a month and a half late- go me!) and met a woman with a wee little girl. Gremlin was completely entranced by her- I made a comment to Grem about not ever being that small. I then got a haughty lecture about this woman’s baby, who was born at only 2lbs, and had only been out of hospital for a month. HER baby spent three months in the NICU- learning to breathe etc etc etc…
Which, yes- absolutely is hard. I was a complete mental case during the three whole days my little Gremlin was in the NICU and even more anguished when threatened that they would keep her there- she was born full-term and never had any SERIOUS difficulties. HOWEVER- I do NOT need some santimonius bitch rubbing my face in it that SHE has had it hard. NEWS FLASH TO YOU SANCTIMOMMY: I birthed a preemie too- MINE DIED. You really want to play the pain olympics with a game of who-had-it-harder? Well, in my world, YOU LOSE!!
Other than that, it was a great day. First day of daycare and one year shots all mixed in one…. Gremlin was ok when I left, but apparently went supernova when my husband returned to the baby room to collect an item he had forgotten. And stayed that way pretty much for the rest of the day. I’m sure the daycare workers were beyond thrilled that my husband was picking her up early!! She was completely knackered- of course the teething doesn’t help matters, she was up half the night last night with it.
Also starting today- the first day of school for PMG, who enjoyed it immensely. The school has a special class for kids with behavioural issues, and so they’ve placed her in that class in the hopes that they can slowly integrate her into the normal classroom. You can’t know how relieved I am by this, with her ADHD, the huge move, as well as the dramatic change in class size (her previous class had 6 kids in a grade 3/4 split, the school she’s going to now has 18 kids in just the normal grade five class!) it’s a big help to me, and to her that they are willing/able to accommodate her to make the transition easier!
Another transition: I am back at work… after a more-or-less five year hiatus from the medical profession and any real semblance of a career, I am now back to work as a medical receptionist!! and I love it!! The doc I am working for is a whiz! I feel lazy most of the time because he does a lot of things himself that I’ve never seen a doc do!! In all, I’m super excited and exceedingly grateful to have been given such an opportunity with my somewhat shady career background (really- who wants to hire someone who’s been home looking after a school-age child for the past five years??). In any case- it’s the best job I’ve ever had and they’re going to have to pry me out of it with a crowbar!
And that’s all for now… except for this question: does anyone out there have any experience demo’ing a bathroom? any tips? tricks? suggestions?? we started the demo and have pretty much stalled out since I started work- I’m considering just hiring someone to finish it, but I am POOR yo!! Any ideas on how to make the job easier would be GREATLY appreciated!!
tata for now!
I bring you drivel…
Because I’m epic like that!
I’m not even going to beat around the bush here. I may have made some kind of error in judgement in moving half way across the country. I know virtually nobody here, my house is well.. it needs a shit-tonne of work we don’t have the money for (anyone guess how much it costs to move across the country?? anyone?? well, I know and it’s a goddamn LOT of money!!), my oldest has a serious f’n attitude problem going on right now, and my youngest is obtaining her very own set of first year molars accompanied by upset stomach, the nastiest smelling caked-on shits ever experienced and a most wonderful case of sleep regression. If there’s anyone out there who REALLY misses the sleepless nights of the first three months of infancy- raise your hand… yeah, that’s what I thought!! Only it’s not the adorable three week old baby waking to eat, snuggle, and go back to sleep. It’s raging psycho screaming banshee baby completely losing her shit until the ty.lenol kicks in…
Right, so I said I was going to get to the point here… The point is this- I don’t know anyone out here, and that means that every. single. person. I meet knows NOTHING about me. Which = they know NOTHING about my kids, living and deceased. I live in a place where people have four, five, shit, I met someone with 11 fucking kids the other day…. and this is NORMAL. I thought military families and their three kids in three years was nuts- but DAYAM!! It’s like a bloody stay at home baby making factory colony out here!! And they like to have pissing contests. Which, for someone with ONLY two (living) children- I’m like a freak! (as if being from Manitoba wasn’t bad enough right!!?? lol)
On a serious note though, I have been finding myself missing my boy more and more out here. I feel the need to have something more tangible and permanent to remember him by here, since his remains are back in Manitoba. I never did go to where they spread his ashes- it just hurt too much, but I still knew he was somehow there and somehow close to me… here it’s just … different. And it doesn’t help to want to explain to people, to confront them with the fact that I don’t just have TWO children- I have THREE, but I am afraid. I don’t want that stigma. I don’t want to be that mom with the dead baby who still isn’t over it. Especially when I will NEVER truly be over it.
Is there anyone out there who knows how this feels?? To feel lost, and alone, and misunderstood?
*hey- in “good” news, this is my 215th post! Go me!!!