Learning Who Daddy is Again

I walk inside carrying grocery bags, deposit them in the kitchen, then peek out to the dark living room. Senpai is laid back on the couch with Poppy sleeping on his chest. "She screamed 60% of the time you were gone," he says, sounding a little strained himself. I get on his case for trying to give her a bottle of formula. I had told him before I left that she had already eaten, that his best chance to get her to sleep was the Baby Bjorn carrier. He didn't even try the Bjorn. What he did was open a brand new container of formula that we're keeping around just in case, instead of defrosting one of the many bags of breastmilk I have stored in the freezer. Sigh.

But I know he had a hard time. He wasn't thinking straight. No harm was done as she didn't even drink the bottle-- she's been breastfeeding exclusively for the past solid month. And I was serious when I typed the e-mail to him last night, "I'm done with the screaming." He has been at work the past three nights, not coming home until after midnight when Rosemary is sleeping in her bed, and I'm in our bed with Poppy on my chest. He hadn't seen Poppy get like this until tonight.

She's too used to me. She needs to learn who her Daddy is again.

The Long Morning

R had a rough morning today. I woke her up ten minutes early. She was snuggled under her quilt, refusing to be roused from her dreams. After a quick breakfast of oatmeal, I loaded her into the car and made the long drive to the doctor's offices at St. Mary's Hospital, where she was born.

We go to this place every two weeks. I set R up in a chair with a portable DVD player and let her zone out to Winnie the Pooh or Peter Pan while the docs ask me a million questions and review my insulin dosages. We're usually only there for an hour, but today was different. Today, Daddy showed up. Today, we were there for three hours. Today, we got to know that we are having R's little sister.



I have been looking forward to this ultrasound for so long. I knew it was a girl, I just knew it. This pregnancy is different than R's-- it's so much easier on me-- but still, the thought of "girl" rang clear and true in my mind, where "boy" didn't seem to fit. I had the same certainty with R.

The ultrasound tech left the room to confer with the doctor, and Senpai and I immediately whipped our phones out to send messages to family. R was getting antsy. She had no interest in her movies, was tired of being told to sit, and wanted nothing more than to be up on the exam table with Mommy.

My doctor came in and ran a second ultrasound to verify some results. A bit of calcium plaque was found in baby's heart, and she explained to me how that can be a Downs Syndrome marker, but there were no other signs of Downs, and otherwise healthy babies are born with it, too. I'm not worried.

We finally left the office after having been there for three long hours. R was out of sorts. She hadn't had the least bit of fun the entire morning, and had been told numerous times that she couldn't climb up on Mommy. Poor little lady. Senpai and I drove our separate cars to an Indian food buffet for lunch. R usually loves Indian food, but today she had no appetite. Senpai and I were reminded of her colic days when one of us had to hold her while the other one could eat, and then we'd switch off. Except there was no switching off today: the cupcake only had eyes for Mommy. I completely understood. She's used to having me available 24/7. She says "Up!" and I pick her up. She wants to climb on me and I let her climb on me. Today I was unavailable to her, and it was too much for her to bear. I didn't mind holding her during lunch, but it made things a little difficult that she couldn't decide what position she wanted to be in. A squirmy 20 mos old in one's lap does not make for easy eating.

Senpai went back to work after lunch, and R and I made the long drive back home. She had just fallen asleep when Oma called. "Poppy?" She sounded incredulous, "Poppy? What about Sage or Lavendar?" I had to chuckle to myself. Sage was our boy name. (If you don't know yet, R is Rosemary.) "I guess I'll just have to get used to it," she finished. Yup. :-D

On Having a Preemie

Preemie dolls were a fad when I was a kid. The only difference they had from your average baby doll is that they were smaller. The advertisements for the preemie dolls seemed to be quiet and more loving. I never actually owned one of these dolls, but I admired them from the pictures, "Oh, look at how small and cute!" And that was all they were: small and cute. Their hair didn't turn hot pink when wet, and they didn't drink water from a bottle and pee it out either (other doll fads of the time). After having a premature baby, I can say the dolls were pretty spot on: R was small at 4 lbs 13 oz, she requires a lot of quiet and love, she couldn't drink from a bottle at first (although she had the peeing thing down), and her hair does not turn hot pink when it's wet. This may just be me, but I feel that the size of a baby is inversely proportional to the amount of love you can't help but pour into said baby. Preemie parents have no choice but to be ever so deeply captivated by their child.



I wasn't expecting to have a preemie when this adorable bundle of needs plopped into my lap (or, more accurately, exploded from my womb). There was a distinct learning curve on how to care for R, but thankfully the knowing NICU staff taught Senpai and I about our tiny baby. Something that was also a huge help in the beginning was The Premature Baby Book: Everything You Need to Know About Your Premature Baby from Birth to Age One (Sears, William, Sears Parenting Library.). I am thankful to my brother and sister-in-law for sending it to us.

Bye-bye, NICU!


When we first brought her home, R had nasal congestion issues (it doesn't help that we have an old house chock-full of pet dander), and most nights she wound up sleeping on my chest as I slept reclined against pillows. As her sinuses developed, we eventually were able to move her to an inclined sleep wedge, and now she sleeps just fine in her crib with no added props. The wedge helped with the reflux she had in the beginning as well.



We had more problems with breastfeeding than I had hoped to encounter. Because she went straight to NICU after birth instead of staying with me, we didn't have the same jump-start to breastfeeding that most moms get. She also was born before her sucking reflexes had developed, so she was fed through a feeding tube for most of her 20-or-so days in NICU. Just getting her to drink from a bottle was a challenge in the beginning. A lactation consultant worked with me to try to get R on the breast, and I thought we were doing pretty well, but it wasn't until she came home that she started losing weight, and I realized too late after my milk supply had dwindled that she was not strong enough to breastfeed. Out came the formula and the breast pump, and now my supply is back up (we don't need the formula anymore, yay!), but she continues to be fed by bottle. After she did get her strength back, colic reared its ugly-- oh so ugly-- head, and I couldn't manage to calm her down enough to try to get her on the breast. So we bottlefeed. It's a lot of work to find time to pump as well as clean all of the pumping equipment and bottles, warm the bottles, and feed the baby (whew!), but I am so glad to still have the opportunity to give her breastmilk in this way.



Something I'm still getting used to is birth age versus gestational age. Even though it's been 4 months since R was born, it's only been 2 1/2 months since her original due date. So while she may act like a 4 month old in some aspects (holding her head up, lifting her chest during tummy time, babbling), in other ways she is still a 2 1/2 month old (eating every 3 or less hours, still on the small side). It's confusing to balance the two and involves a lot more research, especially concerning milestones: "What happens at this age? Wait, most of this hasn't happened yet. Let's go back a month or two..." ^_^'

With everything said, I am 100% in love with my preemie. The trials and tribulations all add up to the experience of parenthood, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

Baths would be more fun if her hair turned hot pink, though.