Ultimate Blog Party 2013

This is my first time participating in a blog party! I'm a little unsure of how this works, but I'm still awake and it seems like a good idea, so let's go for it!



Hi, I'm Kyla, massage therapist turned mother. I started this blog after my first daughter Rosemary was born three years ago. The blog name comes from my husband lovingly saying I looked like a mom when I asked him if I looked decent enough to run to Target one day. :-/

Here are my two girls, Poppy (10 months) and Rosemary (3).


What do I write about? Well, both girls were born premature, so this blog has lots of NICU and prematurity related posts. Unless an accident happens (unlikely, I got an IUD), we are done having kids. I'm not sure how much more I'll focus on prematurity in the posts to come, but you can't deny that it's where we came from. I grieved over my inability to breastfeed Rosemary, and rejoice every day I nurse Poppy. We cloth diaper. Currently, I'm experimenting with homeschooling Rosemary, but I don't expect it will last past preschool. I post a few recipes here and there. I've had type 1 diabetes since I was a kid, so preserving the health of my children is very important to me.

Overall, this blog has little bits of everything, but mostly, it serves as a record. I don't have the best memory, and scrolling through old blog posts is the best way for me to recapture those moments of my girls growing up: times of joy, times of stress, milestones reached, problems overcome. I invite you into these moments because misery deserves company... haha, no, I share them to join this wonderful community of bloggers. I like reading your stories, too.

Thanks for dropping by. Please leave a comment letting me know you were here! :-)

She Crawls!

Poppy is crawling!! She had been experimenting with it for the past two days: slowly shifting forward two paces and then sitting upright, effectively erasing her progress. We finally saw progress tonight!

As I was trying to nurse her to sleep in our bed like usual, she didn't fall asleep right away. In fact, she got to rolling. She rolled towards Senpai's empty side of the bed twice, giving me the duty of goal keeper: baby falls off the bed, score 1 on Kyla! No, she didn't fall, even though she threatened as such. It had been an hour, she wasn't falling asleep, things were getting more and more interesting, so I broke down and moved her into the nursery.

Her crib used to be in our room. I used to put her in there more often. But then teething happened, and rearranging furniture for house showings happened, and honestly, it's been quite some time since she hasn't slept in bed with us. For the record, she has never slept in her room. Her room was a disaster area  (or you could call it "storage") for her entire life, you know. Now that it is cleared out and actually looks like a nursery, and now that we have a MOBILE baby, well, it's time to put things where they belong. Cribs belong in nurseries. Babies belong in cribs.

I took Poppy into the nursery and then called Senpai upstairs to help with the task of rearranging things to make them work. The crib mattress needed to be lowered (yeah, it's been a long time since Poppy's been in the crib!), and other things like the baby monitor and a heater needed to be moved from our room into the nursery. While we were getting it all set up, Poppy was thrilled to explore the room. It's not like she'd never been in there before; I take her in sometimes while I hunt for clothes in her dresser. Tonight, though, she fully realized her ability to transport herself to whatever thing interested her the most. In short, she crawled. She zipped about from one side of the room to the other and then back again with a huge grin on her face. Ahh, my big girl!!

Getting her to fall asleep after all of that excitement, of course, wasn't the easiest task. I foresee a difficult night ahead. I will most likely have to be up constantly, reassuring Poppy that we're still here and we still love her. In spite of that, I'm excited to see what new adventures for Poppy tomorrow will bring.

---------------------
When I crawled in bed next to Senpai, I said with awe, "There's no baby in our room."

He frowned a little, "I know, I'm sad."

"You are?" I was surprised; hadn't he been the one hinting that it was time for us to have our bed back?

"I liked watching her sleep."

Ah. I know, I thought, I liked watching the two of you sleep together.

Listen to the March

"We can't all, and some of us don't. That's all there is to it." -Eeyore

My piece did not make it into the inaugural St. Louis Listen to Your Mother show.

Yes, I am bummed.

I was really hoping to be a voice for preemie mothers this year, especially since I don't think LTYM has featured a story about preemies yet. There are a high concentration of Neonatal Intensive Care Units in this area. St. Luke's Hospital, the sponsor and venue of the STL LTYM, even has one. If not me, I hope the producers took the opportunity to cast another preemie mother for this show. We need a voice.


No, Eeyore, we can't all. But I personally will not be one who doesn't. So I took my sad feelings, turned them around, and focused (R's new favorite word) them into something productive. I will walk in the March of Dimes.

When I entered my information into the March of Dimes website, I was automatically signed up for an event on May 11th, the day of the LTYM show. That made me smile. I had told myself before I even knew if St. Louis would have a show that, either speaking on stage or sitting in the audience, I would be there. So I accepted my sign from the universe that I was doing the right thing and clicked the link to find a different event. On May 11th, the day after Poppy's first birthday-- the anniversary of when I became a preemie mom for the second time-- I will sit in the audience and support my fellow STL moms.


On April 27th, Senpai, Rosemary, Poppy, and I will walk with other preemie families, and find our voices.


I hope you can find a dime or two to donate and help us reach our goal. Love and thank you!

World Prematurity Day

Saturday was World Prematurity Day. The Huffington Post had an article about it here. "Born Too Soon: The Global Action Report on Preterm Birth" was released only a couple days before Poppy was born. Needless to say, Poppy was not counted in the report, but Rosemary definitely was. The long and short of it is that preterm birth does not have to equal a death sentence in developing countries. As the Huffington Post article author Carole Presern puts it, "Place of birth should never determine a child's right to life."

Time also released an article about World Prematurity Day that mentioned 5 ways to reduce preterm birth. Here they are:

Discouraging elective C-sections and labor inductions unless there’s a compelling medical reason

Reducing the number of embryos transferred during fertility treatment

Helping pregnant women give up smoking

Providing women with high-risk pregnancies with progesterone supplementation

Performing cervical cerclage, a minor surgical procedure, on pregnant women with short cervixes

Only one of those ways was pertinent to me. I did not schedule a c-section or induce labor, I did not undergo fertility treatments, I don't smoke, and my cervix was measured to be an acceptable length. All that leaves is the progesterone supplementation for high-risk pregnancies. Huh. My pregnancies were high risk. I was not given progesterone. Would it have helped? With Rosemary, probably not. I felt the effects of HELLP Syndrome very early on in her gestation, even though it wasn't diagnosed until the day she was born. Progesterone might have prevented my body from trying to push her out early, but the resulting toxicity from being pregnant would still remain, and she still would have had to come out early anyway. For Poppy, though, it might have made a difference. I did not feel sick throughout her gestation like I did with Rosemary, so HELLP Syndrome was not an issue the second time around. For whatever reason (maybe habit?), my body wanted Poppy out at the same time as her sister. The contractions started around 28 weeks. I was given bottles of Procardia to stave them off, but the medicine only just barely worked; I felt contractions every time I was due for another dose. If I ever got pregnant again I would ask the doctors for progesterone. It would be interesting to see if it made a difference. But we're not trying for any more kids. Happy with two. :-)


In celebration of World Prematurity Day, I ordered a Letter from Santa from the Mercy Hospital NICU Parents. This organization is comprised of parents who used to have NICU babies at Mercy Hospital, and they now mentor and support current NICU parents. I love it! I had to drive 23 miles one way for about 40 days (both babies combined) to visit my daughters in the NICU, so I can say I would have loved to have gotten a gas card! Your donation helps new NICU parents get just that. Or a carseat! And support group meetings! Isn't it awesome? I can't wait for Rosemary to get her letter. I'm sure you can think of some children who would love to hear from Santa this holiday season. :-) Order by December 12th!

The Birth of Poppy

After a month of persistent contractions that kept coming back even with medication, I went to my hospital's Women's Evaluation Unit on a Monday night to be monitored. I was checked by different doctors. The first found my cervix to be closed. The second, a couple of hours later, found me to be 3.5 cm dilated. The third confirmed the 3.5 reading. I was immediately hooked up to an IV with a low dose of magnesium sulfate, and also administered the first of two doses of the steroid for Poppy's lungs.


Monday night at the WE-U. Looking good.

I felt fine for most of Tuesday, but the contractions kept coming, so the doctors increased the magnesium dosage to the maximum level they could give. I was starting to get "maggy," meaning I had a hard time moving, walking, or seeing straight. Tuesday night I was given the second dose of lung steroids. By Wednesday, I was a mess. I called myself a "lump on a log" because it was so hard to lift even my arm out of the bed. I was definitely a fall hazard and needed help accessing the bedside commode.

Even with the magnesium, I was still contracting. They were getting more painful, too. Whenever a contraction hit, I would flap my feet up and down to deal with it. That was the only thing I could do. My husband thought it was adorable, but I wanted to be more in control of my labor. I asked the nurses to please stop the magnesium. I had already heard the doctors hinting at delivery, since baby's lungs were primed and there was nothing more they could do to stop it. The nurses checked with the doctors, and by the afternoon I was taken off the Magnesium. I immediately felt so much better. Within an hour I was bouncing through the contractions on an exercise ball, finally able to manage my pain the way that I wanted to, instead of just "lying there and taking it." The nurses had a copy of my birth plan in front of them, so they knew better than to offer me an epidural.


Bouncing through a contraction.

My Mom had flown up from Florida and was able to be there on Wednesday. She and Senpai would chat about the news or any random thing Senpai found while surfing the internet (as he does), until I would start bouncing, and then I made it very clear that I wanted them to be quiet. I had the Tibetan Singing Bowl music playing that I listened to when I had labored with Rosemary.


Mom giving me the pep talk.

I was allowed to have chicken broth and jello for dinner, yum! Diabetes comes in handy sometimes.  When the doctor stopped by my room that night, I asked if there was something he could give me that would help me sleep. Unlike my first birth experience, no one was in a rush to get this baby out of me anytime soon, and I foresaw a difficult delivery if I didn't conserve my strength and rest through the night. The doctor gave me Ambien. I slept well. Mom and Senpai stayed the night, too.

The next day, Thursday, was the big day. I started by bouncing on the ball until it offered no comfort, then I moved to the bed to thrash around, rock back and forth on my knees, and basically flail my way through the contractions. At 7 cms dilated, I took a hit of whatever opiate they're using in place of Stadol these days (I was told there's a national shortage on Stadol. Anyone know if that's true?). It wore off quick. By the time I was taken to the operating room, I was grabbing the hand rails on the bed and throwing my body from side to side.


Now it really hurts.

I had delivered Rosemary while under the influence of Stadol. It was very odd. I had no idea who all was in the operating room with us or who actually caught her. My memory is mostly of the darkness of the back of my eyelids in my drugged out haze, and then the feeling of her little 4 lb 13 oz body sliding out of me with minimal effort on my part. This delivery was much different. I was hoping to be more aware of the entire process, and I was since the opiate had long since worn off. It was too late in the game to add anymore pain meds into the mix, so it was just me and my body, about to do some hard work together. Everything-- my vision, my alertness, my pain-- was fresh and crisp. I started to push.

Nothing happened. Not at first, at least. The doctors needed more effort. More pushing, more pushing, oh my gosh, this hurts. This HUUUUUURTS. Rosemary was delivered free of pain, remember, and Poppy is a bigger baby. This was my first time experiencing the true pain of childbirth, the "ring of fire." The doctors offered to set up a mirror to show me the head crowning ("Maybe if you see it, it will give you something to push for,"), and that's when I realized that it was up to me. In spite of the room full of doctors, it was 100% up to me to push this baby out or else I would be rushed into an emergency c-section. I didn't want to get cut open, so push, girl, PUSH! The head came out. PUUUUSH! The shoulders came out. Poppy was born!


She was born into a sea of yellow.

I fell back against the bed with relief before I noticed something strange. The doctors didn't immediately take Poppy away like they did with Rosemary. No, they were just holding her between my legs and hanging out there. I wondered what they were doing until somebody commented, "I've never seen one pulse for so long!" That's when I realized that they were following my birth plan! With Poppy being premature, I had assumed that the birth plan would be thrown out the window for her safety. But I guess she was breathing well enough for several points to be implemented, like waiting for the umbilical cord to stop pulsing before cutting it. The doctors encouraged me to touch her while they still had her so close to me. I lightly ran my hands over her warm, sticky body and that moment meant so much to me. I touched Poppy seconds after she was born. It was three hours before I could touch Rosemary. Oh, it meant so much.

The cord eventually stopped pulsing, and the doctors took her to the other side of the room to get cleaned up. I was still on my high of being able to see and touch Poppy when an even more surprising thing happened: they gave her back to me! She was wrapped up in a blanket and wearing a hat-- not naked as I had asked in the birth plan-- but I got to hold her, I got to hold her! It was at least a day after Rosemary was born when I held her for the first time. This birth was so much better! I thanked myself over and over again in that moment for writing a birth plan. Rosemary and Poppy were both born at 33 weeks, both had the lung steroids, but Rosemary had been taken away from me so fast, while now I was having such precious moments with Poppy because the doctors knew I wanted them. Just to set something straight, I was going to write a birth plan for Rosemary's birth, only I hadn't known to expect her so early; she surprised us. When the early contractions started up with Poppy, I knew I had to be prepared.


One happy Mama.

It came time for the doctors to take her to the NICU. I was told I had slight tearing, but it wasn't bad enough to warrant stitches. I forget if this happened before or after I held Poppy, but the placenta was delivered and I saw it drop into a bucket (another fun memory I missed in my drug haze of Rosemary's birth). I was wheeled back to the room and saw Mom standing in the hallway (only one person was allowed in the operating room so I chose Senpai. Sorry, Mom). She told me she had seen Poppy on her way to the NICU. She also said she could hear me screaming through the delivery and Poppy crying when she came out. Haha, good to know the rest of the L&D ward could tell I was having a baby.

I went to see Poppy in the NICU as soon as I could.


7 lbs, 19 1/2" long. Born at 10:14 AM on 5/10/12.

The rest is another story.

Comments

As any new mom knows, it's impossible to take your newborn out in public without garnering comments from passersby. My favorite, from when Rosemary was still an itty bitty preemie, is, "She's fresh out of the box!" I posted it on Facebook to which a snarky friend replied, "She's fresh out of YOUR box." :-p

Poppy is not as tiny as Rosemary was, but people have still commented on her age. One woman said, "She must be a few days out of the hospital!" It was too long-winded for me to explain, "Well, she's a month old, but she did spend most of that time in the neonatal intensive care unit. So in that sense you're right, but, really, she's been home for a week already." I just smiled politely and went back to my shopping.

The comments that bug me, though, and I've gotten a couple already, are the ones making note of my size: "You're so tiny! I'm insanely jealous!" These people have no idea. And, once again, it's too much to explain, so I apologize for inspiring negative feelings in them and move on. Too much to explain that, while pregnant, I logged every meal, every carbohydrate, and had that information scrutinized by a dietician who laid down the law: my breakfast was a tiny cup of yogurt, I wasn't allowed to snack. Too much to explain that skinny isn't always healthy: my body drops weight when my blood sugars get too high because-- not able to utilize the sugar from food without enough insulin-- it has to convert my fat cells into energy.

I don't do it on purpose. It just happens. It's life with type 1 diabetes. And they have no idea.

Held Up

So today was interesting. I'm sure you're dying to hear all about it.

It started with frustration as I sat in my car behind a dirty old pickup truck that couldn't decide what it was doing. The hospital's parking garage, which is usually metered, is currently free due to construction. In order to make way for a golf cart shuttle to/from the hospital's front entrance, and also to prevent people from taking tickets when they pull into the garage, the formal entrance is blocked off, and cars are directed to enter one of the exit lanes. The driver of the truck couldn't get it. He just sat paused in front of the exit lane, looking like he really wanted to go up the entrance if only it wasn't blocked off. I audibly sighed when the reverse lights blinked on. I was right behind him, with now a couple other cars behind me; where did he think he could go? Realizing that any attempt of escape was futile, the reverse lights blinked off, and the truck edged forward little by little until we were finally in the garage. You would think then that the driver would easily figure out how the parking garage worked and set about using it, but no, he still inched forward slow as molasses with the rest of us just wanting to hurry up and park already. I was thrilled when I spied an open spot on the third floor's exit row, and even more thrilled when the truck slowly rolled up to the fourth floor; I could both park and not have to follow the slow truck anymore, yay! I ran down the steps instead of waiting for the elevator.

When I made it up to the fifth floor of the hospital-- severely delayed thanks to Mr. Truck-- I picked up the phone outside the NICU and waited for someone to answer. And waited... and waited... and waited. The phone was ringing for a good two minutes before I finally heard a welcome, "Hello?" I gave the name of my baby and the voice on the other end said, "Ok, come in." I hung up the phone and waited for the doors to open. And waited... and waited.. and waited. Another two minutes later, I picked up the phone again. After a couple of rings this time, the voice on the end answered, and I asked, "May I come in?" The doors immediately opened. The receptionist at the desk claimed she had forgotten about me. Okay, whatever. I was late to breastfeed Poppy and had just about used up all of my patience for the day (though I would still need more later).

The good news is that Poppy was awake and ready to eat. She ate well! Senpai arrived for morning rounds. Poppy has a new attending physician today, and we wanted to find out what his philosophies are. Not that it matters much since she'll have another new doctor tomorrow. They're currently trying to fill in scheduling gaps. I'm just waiting for somebody to say the magic d-word sooner rather than later. It wasn't today's doctor. Will it be the one tomorrow? I can hope!

We went out for lunch. When we returned, we got on the elevator to go back to the fifth floor, but the elevator went down instead of up. The four other people on the elevator with us (two smokers expecting their first grandbaby, an elderly woman, and an older lady going to visit her sister in the ICU), were just as surprised as we were that it decided to do that. We laughed it off when the elevator took us to the basement, and then the sub-basement, but no one laughed when it stopped and the doors didn't open. No amount of button mashing did anything; we were stuck. Senpai and I still had cell phone coverage (yay, Sprint!), though no one else did. I called the NICU to let them know we wouldn't make it in time for Poppy's noon feeding. Senpai lent his phone to the older lady to call her family in the ICU. Senpai also leaned over to use the emergency phone that had been installed in the bottom of the elevator's control panel. Help was on the way! Twenty minutes later (there's that patience again), we occupants were relieved when the elevator started moving up to the third floor. It stopped there and opened its doors. Senpai and I dashed out, taking the stairs the rest of the way.

Poppy's noon feeding was delayed, but thankfully we hadn't missed it. She ate well again! Without a nipple shield! Her eyes were even open: two beautiful dark eyes that we hardly ever see. Rosemary's eyes were dark in the NICU, too. They're now gray, so who knows what color Poppy's eyes will be.

When Senpai was leaving, he noticed his wedding ring was missing from his pocket. You aren't allowed to wear jewelry in the NICU. I had taken my wedding ring off when my pregnant fingers got too swollen for it, and I'm not bothering to put it back on until Poppy comes home because I don't want to risk losing it. Senpai has no reason not to wear his aside from the NICU, and he isn't there nearly as often as I am, so he just sticks it in a pocket. We searched the floor of the NICU, and were resigned to going back to the lunch restaurant where he had pulled something else out of the same pocket, when it occurred to me: the elevator! He had to lean over to use the emergency phone, and the ring had been in his chest pocket. We  pushed the button and waited in front of the bank of three elevators. Would the middle elevator-- the one that had trapped us-- be the one to open? More waiting, and yes! The middle one opened. Senpai jumped in and found his Tungsten ring obscured against the carpet. He immediately jumped out. Having enough to do with that particular elevator, we took the stairs down.

I was just following him out because I needed the exercise. I was going to stick around the hospital for Poppy's next feeding, but I was alarmed to discover my blood sugars rising in a scary fashion. I drained a large cup of water in the cafeteria. The numbers kept rising. My heart throbbed in my chest and I knew ketoacidosis was starting to set in. What to do, what to do? There were no lemons available to neutralize the acid flowing through my veins, I had no extra needles or insulin on hand to deliver a saving bolus of medicine, and I was certain that the fresh infusion set I had inserted this morning was bad. I trudged up the five flights of stairs, needing the exercise then more than ever, and was relieved when Poppy was too sleepy to breastfeed. I had tried to put her to my breast, but she stayed in her dreamland. I laid her back in her crib and let the nurse gavage the entire feeding.



It was difficult to drive home. I was so thankful to pull into the garage, and even more thankful when my Dad handed me a large mug of freshly prepared lemon water. I was able to inject insulin via syringe, put in a new infusion set (the one from the morning's catheter had kinked inside me), and gradually get my blood sugar back under control. I missed out on the trip to take Rosemary to Monkey Joe's, but I appreciated the opportunity to finish "Catching Fire," the second book in the Hunger Games trilogy.

So those were today's adventures. Maybe tomorrow will be.... less interesting?


In other news, yesterday Poppy was moved to the isolation room. A swab culture found MRSA inside her nose. She is not infected, herself, but as a carrier, she still needs to be separated from the other babies. I am less than thrilled with this development, especially since over the last few days she had been cared for by nurses who also tended to the isolation room babies. Where did the MRSA come from, hmmm? She now has to stay in the isolation room for the remainder of her stay in the NICU, and Senpai has to wear a gown and gloves to hold her. I would scratch eyes out if someone told me I had to wear a gown and gloves to touch Poppy, but since I breastfeed her, they figure there's no getting around it. I just have to wash my hands really well before exiting the room. I am not pleased with this development. More reason to get out of there fast.


"H" is for "H'isolation Room."

19 Days

Yesterday was 18 days, the time when Rosemary's feeds were changed to "On Demand." Tomorrow will be 20 days, the day on which Rosemary was discharged.

I was really hoping that Poppy would be out of the NICU sooner than her sister. I thought Poppy's larger size and already having a sucking reflex would accelerate her discharge, but unfortunately, it's the opposite. Her excess weight makes her sleepy as her brain tries to catch up with her size. Her sucking is disorganized. The Cookie is not ready to be placed on feeds by demand and certainly isn't ready to come home.

How much longer? It's all up to her. She had done really well last week, waking up to receive at least partial feeds most times. Over the weekend, though, she conked out. The nurses said she ate during the nights, but she slept through all of the daytime feeds. I couldn't help but cry. It was so hard to see her get ahead and then stop. The doctor reminded me that she's still growing and needs to conserve her energy to do so. The doctor also gently hinted that maybe I needed to take more time away from the hospital for myself. She's right. At least until Poppy starts consistently waking up, I don't need to be there so often. It's hard to stay away, though.


Our Sleeping Beauty

The Long Drive Home

Emotionally I'm (mostly) okay with Poppy being in the NICU, but physically I'm getting worn away at the seams. Today was tiring. From the four hours of sleep last night (gotta wake up to pump), to a sibling meeting with another baby in Poppy's section gone awry ("I don't like my brother!"), to a neurotic nurse who is seriously OCD, and feeding disagreements with the doctors, today has been a loooooong day.

When it came time to go home, I made it back to my car in the parking garage, sent Senpai a text asking him to take care of dinner, and then.... I dropped my chair back and took a nap. Senpai called an hour later, "Are you out of the city yet?" Umm, not exactly. I worked the kinks out of my neck, raised the seat up, turned on the engine, and started the long drive home.

9-5 NICU Mom

Here she is!


I'm settling into my new gig of being Poppy's NICU Mom. Every morning I drive through rush hour traffic into the city, scramble to find a spot in the parking garage, rush to Poppy's bedside, then start the routine of feed, pump, and eat that cycles in three hour increments throughout the day. It's quite enjoyable, actually (minus the commute), but I should really bring my phone charger; my poor phone's battery can't handle being my sole source of entertainment all day!


I've got to say, I feel like an old hand at this. Senpai feels it, too. We've got a "been there, done that" nonchalant attitude about Poppy being in the NICU (we earned our stripes with Rosemary after all). I was not thrilled with the spinal tap, but otherwise, Poppy's development as a preemie is right on track. Since I've got experience to share, I figured I'd put together some pointers for new NICU parents.


GUIDE TO BEING A NICU PARENT

When it comes to premature babies, the goal of the NICU is as follows: intervene as medically required, and then slowly remove those interventions until baby can thrive on his own. The three things that all babies must be able to do before they will be sent home are:

1. Control their own temperature.
A baby should do well to be lightly dressed in a 70º room. Preemie babies initially need help holding their temperatures, especially in their hands and feet. They will be put on warming beds or into isolettes until they've got it down.

2. "Nipple" all feedings.
Nipple in this case is used as a verb. Whether the baby takes her food from a breast or a bottle, she must consume enough calories around the clock to meet the final goal.

3. GROW
Eating and controlling temperature use calories. The baby must have enough food in his tummy to do both those things, and still have plenty to spare to grow big and strong.


Here are some tips that will help you feel more involved in your baby's stay.

1. Know Your Nurse
So what do you do while in the NICU... just stare at your baby? Well, yes, depending on baby's level of prematurity. Even if baby is in an isolette, you may be able to at least change her diaper. Just ask the nurse. The worst she can say is no, but she might even say yes. And guess what? Every nurse is different. Just because yesterday's nurse said no, doesn't mean today's nurse will, too. Doctors make the orders, and it's up to the nurses to follow those directions, but not everything (such as being able to hold your baby) is set in stone.

2. Know What You Want and Tell Everyone
Let's say that it is very important to you that baby learns to breastfeed. If you're a regular reader on this blog, you know that to be true for me. What am I doing about it? I am telling everyone. Every nurse, doctor, and lactation consultant in this NICU knows about my struggles with breastfeeding Rosemary, and my desire to get it right this time with Poppy. I may sound like a broken record to myself, when I think of all the times I've had the same conversation with a different person (Poppy hasn't had the same nurse twice yet!), but I would much rather that than the alternative of nobody knowing and my wishes not being granted.

3. Talk to the Doctors
This point seems obvious, but I'll be honest with you, I did not do this so much with Rosemary. I would hear the doctor's orders from the nurses and then leave it at that. I assumed that the doctors' wills were set in stone, and nothing I could say would change that. That is not at all the case. In this NICU stay, I have already convinced the doctors to not add a mandatory bottle after a breastfeeding session, have increased the number of breastfeeding sessions, and turned down a spinal tap. They ended up talking my husband and I into the spinal tap anyway, but at first I said no. Do you see the pull you can have in your baby's growth and development? All of this is possible because I am there for the morning rounds (see below), I put a sticky note with my contact information on Poppy's bed, and I give every opportunity for these dialogues to happen. You should, too.

4. Attend Morning Rounds
This is when the doctor goes over the notes from each baby and determines their plan of action for the day, such as administering which medicines and removing what aid. If the parents are present, the doctor gives them the opportunity to ask questions and ADD THEIR INPUT. The second part of that sentence is very important. You may not be a medical professional, but you are absolutely just as much a member of your baby's care team as everyone on staff. You have a say in how your baby is handled, so say it.


There you go. I know being a NICU Parent is not a job anyone would willingly apply for, but you don't have to feel helpless or out of control. He's still your baby, and you're still Mom (or Dad). Much love and strength to you.

the NICU post

(Are you a new NICU parent? Read here for tips about what to do during your baby's NICU stay.)


I go more in detail into the birth in a previous post, but I'll start here with a quick recap: Rosemary was born at 33 weeks gestation. With the full moon, my body tried to push her out. The doctors were able to stop the contractions, but my liver fought back in the form of HELLP Syndrome, demanding that the baby get OUT. Start up the pitocin; my body couldn't handle being pregnant anymore. That's how my baby was born.

She had received the steroids for her lungs while she was still in utero, so she came out with a healthy cry. At least three of the many people in the operating room focused on her as soon as she came out. Is she breathing? How's her heartbeat? Any liquid in the lungs? Very fast-- within a couple of minutes-- she was cleaned up, wrapped up, and brought over to me (though still out of reach) to see that sweet, tiny face for all of one second. Just as fast as they brought her over they took her away, out of the room, down the hall, to NICU. Senpai asked if he could follow, and then my family was gone. Being left behind, without either my husband or newborn baby in the delivery room was an intensely lonely feeling that tasted bittersweet. My thoughts were along the lines of, "I carried this baby for seven months, I've been in pain for her, I just delivered her, and now... I can't see her." I clung to the image of her little red face, already fading in my memory, as I was taken back to my room and monitored by the nurses. She had been born at 9:29 pm. When I still hadn't seen her two hours later, I demanded to be taken to her. I touched my baby for the first time at 12:20 am.

First trip to the NICU.

Entering the NICU, it was so uniquely different from the rest of the hospital. People had to be buzzed in, signed in, watches and jewelry removed, and hands and arms scrubbed with disinfecting soap up to the elbow (I just remembered the smell of the soap). Children, the little germ harvesters that they are, were not allowed in. Parents and two family members (that you choose, but must specify on a form) were the only people allowed to see the baby, but only two at a time.

The NICU was divided into different sections with varying levels of care, labeled from A to G. Rosemary started out in an open bed in the last room, G. After the first night they then moved her to an incubator (they call them "isolettes" these days) against the wall to the right when you walked in the door. The first time I saw her in the NICU, she was on her stomach in her open bed, breathing with the help of a respirator tube. I wasn't worried. I knew she had received the steroids for her lungs, and I had heard her healthy cry after she had been delivered. I think I was also too tired to be worried. I was just so elated to finally see and touch the tiny 4 lb 13 oz little girl that had made my uterus her home for so long. I was taken back to my room after only about 20 minutes because I was starting to fall asleep in the wheelchair.



I was not one of those Moms who spends every minute in the NICU. I was still healing for one, very exhausted, trying to get my body's systems back to normal, and two, I believed that the doctors and nurses in the NICU were taking good care of my baby. She wasn't sick, she just wasn't meant to be out in the world yet. All she needed was to grow and learn how to eat, otherwise she was a healthy little camper. She would forget to breath sometimes, and for that she was put on a daily caffeine injection. I never saw her get stuck with anything. I would see the aftermath-- a new IV line in her head, little red spots on her hands-- but the nurses did the dirty work when the family wasn't around. I'm sure seeing her in pain would have broken my heart in two.



Senpai got to hold her first. I wasn't there to see it, but he came back to my room looking so excited. The first time I held her, maybe two days after she had been born, was so magical. She was itty bitty and warm, and red like a little lobster from the jaundice.



Under the bilirubin lights.

I think it was the fourth day when Senpai came back into my hospital room after visiting Rosemary in the NICU and said, "They want to start putting clothes on her." I looked over at the duffel bag we had packed with things from home, inside of which I knew was a teeny-tiny sweater I had crocheted while I was still pregnant. I had followed a pattern, but even with using a larger hook size the gauge came out incredibly small and the sweater looked like it could fit a doll. I had shaken my head at the microscopic sweater when it was completed, wondering how it would ever fit a full-term baby. There in my hospital room, I felt foolish all of a sudden for wanting to put it on her. Senpai had asked me before if he should bring it over to the NICU, but I hadn't wanted him to, I don't know why. It wasn't until the "order" as it were came down from the nurses that I knew she needed that sweater. We went right over, me clutching the smallest little sweater in the world, and miraculously, it fit her. That sweater I made was the first piece of clothing my baby ever wore. There was a matching hat, too, but it wouldn't fit over the IV line they had just put in her head.



The first way her Daddy and I got to care for her was to change her diaper. I don't know about Senpai, but I felt odd doing it at first, like it wasn't my place. I thought, "The nurses handle everything, feeding, diapering, changing bed linens, etc... Who am I to care for my baby? Wait, I'm her mother. I'm supposed to be doing this anyway. But she's in their charge; they make the important decisions, not I. Oh well, just change your baby's diaper, already!" That's how my head struggled with the facts. But the more we did it, of course, the more comfortable we became being Rosemary's parents.



My Mom and Dad drove up from Florida after Rosemary was unexpectedly born. Mom was able to stay Easter weekend, but she had to return back to work after that. Dad is retired, so he stayed with us the entire time I was in the hospital and even later. I was discharged after a week, but Rosemary was still in the NICU. It was strange.. I was discharged home without my baby. I am so grateful to both of my parents for being there for me when I was weak. Senpai, too, of course. But it would have been really hard if Dad hadn't stayed longer. He helped around the house, drove the 26 miles when I was too tired to do it myself, and kept me company while Senpai was at work. He was glad to help, but he was also happy when Rosemary finally came safely home, so he could return home, too. Thanks, Dad.

I pumped breastmilk to go into her tube, but her little body needed more nutrition than I could provide at first, and she was given formula as well. It was actually more like she was given formula plus the little bits of colostrum that I produced. I put my heart and soul into pumping, waking up every three hours even into the night, trying to rev up production. It wasn't until after I had been discharged home that my breasts finally produced enough milk so the NICU staff could feed her breast milk alone without formula. I was so thrilled to get to that point. I worked with a lactation consultant to try to breastfeed, too. One day I was trying to breastfeed Rosemary behind a screen when I could hear the doctor going over Rosemary's chart with the nurses. A male nurse relayed that Rosemary didn't tolerate formula well, and the doctor got the wrong idea, thinking that I was stopping giving her breast milk. The female doctor became all bullish all of a sudden, "Where's the mom? She's here?" and she poked her head over the screen, while I had my baby to my breast, and demanded to know why I wasn't breastfeeding. I just looked at her incredulously. It's humorous now. I'm glad they had Rosemary's best interests at heart.



Even though the breastmilk was there, getting her to ingest it for herself was a tall mountain to climb. She was born before her sucking reflex had developed. Every day the nurses, Senpai, and I would try to put a bottle in her mouth, just to have her mouth form an "o" from which she would poke her tiny little tongue out. It was the cutest thing in the world. I said, "That's adorable, Sweetie, but it's not going to help you eat." When she finally did learn to suck, it started as only one or two little sucks and then she would stop, mostly from exhaustion. The rest of the bottle had to go down her feeding tube. Gradually she started to drink more and more, still never finishing her bottle. She was just too short on strength and energy. When she had been there for 18 days, I finally broke down. When I got there I learned that the nurse that day had put an entire bottle down her tube, without even trying to get her to drink it. That was the standard procedure-- If a baby doesn't do well for one feeding, just tube feed the next-- but I was ready to punch her. They wouldn't send Rosemary home on a feeding tube, and she wouldn't be rid of the damn thing if they kept using it without even trying to get her to drink the milk for herself. I expressed my concerns to the nurse in the nicest way possible without actually punching her. She went and found the doctor-- a nice Asian fellow, not the bull woman from before-- and after hearing what happened he changed Rosemary's feeding schedule from every 3 hours to... whenever she was hungry.



This simple directive made an unbelievably profound difference. What a brilliant idea! Feed the baby when she's hungry! And, oh man, she ate SO WELL after that. It turned out that every 5 hours was her personal schedule. The NICU staff squirmed at that timeline, not really liking the idea of pushing feedings beyond 4 hours, but it was so good for her. She wasn't eating at 3 hours because she was still tired! She was supposed to be sleeping then according to her own schedule, but here were these nurses prodding her awake and forcing a bottle in her mouth, expecting her to chug it down. But when she was hungry, 5 hours later, she finished the whole bottle, every single one of them. She was discharged a day and a half later.

 

She Walks (and Talks)

Thursday.

Last night I watched R walk around most of the house without a push toy. She would start out with uneven steps, get into a good stride, and end with a tumble. Then she'd get back up and do it again. Our baby is finally a toddler.

Watching R grow has included a lot of waiting; she's been behind in most every milestone due to her prematurity. Wait for her to roll, wait for her to sit up, wait up for her to crawl, wait for her to walk. She walks now. Yippeeee! She feels more confident when Mommy or Daddy hold her hand and walk with her, and she still zips around with her push toys, but she takes steps on her own, too. She takes steps on her own. I am so happy. The waiting for her to walk is finally over.

One sign of growth she hasn't made me wait for is speaking sentences. Just a couple of months ago I was worried that she didn't speak too many words, but she knew a key sentence, "What is that/it?" She points and asks what everything is, and she must be cataloging our answers. She won't repeat the word after we say it, but the next time it's relevant, she just may pipe in. Senpai taught her the color red, and she says up and down more frequently. Going back to sentences, every morning I ask her, "Did you sleep well?" Sometimes she'll reply, "yes" or "good." This morning, before I had a chance to ask, she exclaimed, "I didn't sleep well!" I was surprised. Was she trying to parrot my usual question? Is that what I heard her do? But no, she didn't say you, the did had two syllables that ended with n, and she started the sentence with I. More than repeating what she hears me say, she had created her own (correct!) sentence. True to form, R surprises us with first sentences as opposed to first words.

The last way she has grown since last blog post is that Senpai turned her carseat to face forward. We went to the zoo yesterday. R's rear-facing carseat was behind my passenger seat as Senpai drove. I couldn't take a nap. I was super exhausted, having fallen asleep at 2 am the previous night, and I really really wanted to sleep on the drive down to the zoo but it was impossible. The carseat interrupted where the headrest could go, which isn't a problem when you're sitting up, but when you're trying to lay your head back, man, it sucks. And my seat was pushed all the way forward, so there was no room for me to scootch down in the seat because my knees hit the dashboard. I was not a happy passenger. I told Senpai, no more. R faces forward. He changed the carseat in my car as well, and when I drove with R to the craft store today it was odd to look back and see her staring at me. We'll get used to it, though. Aside from the nap frustration yesterday, I've been thinking for awhile that I needed to change her carseat position, as she had gotten too big to easily fit in the space between the carseat and the doorframe in my car. Putting her in the seat involved much contortion on my part. The nap was just the last straw.

I love watching her grow.

Happy Welcome Home, R Day!

Today is the anniversary of R's discharge from the NICU. She's upstairs napping right now while I sit here in front of the computer and relive the day.


I was so happy I felt like I was going to burst. I couldn't stop the joy, the relief, the excitement from bubbling up under my skin. The "d" word had only been hinted at the day before, but there we were, signing release forms and packing up. Her little jaundice shades were missing, another baby must have needed them, but tiny diapers, tubes of zinc and petroleum, a nasal aspirator and thermometer were all thrown into a hospital bag. R was wearing an adorable short-sleeved outfit we had brought for her, but over top of that was also a warmer NICU outfit that the nurse convinced us she would need, and on her head was the cute little crochet hat she had been given when she was born. We buckled her snug into the car seat that had been sitting next to her bedside for weeks. We had brought it early so that it wouldn't be something to hold us back when the time came (I always pestered the nurses, "When will the car seat test be done?"). The blanket I crocheted went over the seat belts to protect her from the chill wind that was blowing that day.

When all of the paperwork was done... we walked out the NICU doors and didn't look back. The nurse pulled a plastic wagon that contained R in her car seat. We were still on hospital property, hence R was still in their care. Senpai and I walked beside the wagon feeling as joyful and proud as new parents who had only spent a day or two in the hospital instead of twenty.



I waited at the entrance with the nurse while Senpai pulled our vehicle up. This nurse I had hated only a few days before because she did not seem to be helping R get off the feeding tube. After expressing my concerns to her and the doctor, a new plan was put in place, and it worked. R was eating. And now I love that nurse for helping us get out of there. I hope she knows how much that means to us. She has to know.

Senpai opened the car door, the car seat clicked securely into its base, and we were off, homeward bound. Let me let that sink in for a moment: we were going home.


She had never been in the sunlight before this moment. The NICU is kept dim, womb-like, with the shades drawn over the windows. Here, for the first time in her life, she could feel the radiance of the sun.


We came home, and I put her in a baby sling. In the NICU, you aren't allowed to walk around while holding your baby. If you are holding her, you are seated. You may only hold her for so long before they gently remind you to put her back in her plastic bed. Having the option, the opportunity to strap her in close to me and go.. anywhere, for as long as.. anytime, was such a momentous change from the previous four weeks. I held her, and held her, and held her. I haven't let her go since.

Revisiting the NICU

We went back to the NICU today.

I have yet to write a post about the NICU. It is sitting in my drafts collection, along with many other posts that get started but not finished. (Update: NICU post is here.) Suffice it to say, Rosemary's stay in the NICU was twenty long days of breast milk pumping, 26 mile drives to the hospital, one or two hours of gazing at my baby in the isolette, ham sandwich lunches in the courtyard, and then an hour to drive back home through rush hour traffic. Day in and day out, even on weekends: enter the parking garage and hope you find a spot, park, grab the breast pump and the cooler full of breast milk out of the car, enter the hospital's lobby, walk straight to the elevator and push the up button, wait, enter the elevator and push the button for the 5th floor, wait, exit the elevator, walk down the hall, turn right, slam the button to open the massive NICU doors, drop your stuff, kick the pedal on the floor to turn on the scaldingly hot water in the sink, pump antibacterial soap onto your hands and lather up to your elbows, rinse in the hot water, grab two paper towels from the dispenser (one is never enough), toss the paper towels in the trash, sign in at the front desk (Name: Kyla, Here to See: Rosemary, Time in: --:--, Time Out: --:--), pick up your stuff you left on the floor by the sink, walk straight to your daughter's bed, drop your stuff again, sit in the chair the nurse pulled up for you and gaze lovingly at your daughter until she wakes up.


Doors to the NICU.

20 days of the same thing, until we could finally bring her home. And I know there are families out there who go through much worse. Families who live further than 26 miles away from the hospital, families whose babies have much bigger health concerns than just not knowing how to eat, babies who stay in the NICU for much longer than 20 days. Those families have all of my sympathy, because our ordeal certainly took its toll on me.


Four days before she was released, but I didn't know it at the time. You can see the stress in my eyes and my fake smile.

So we went back today. It had been on my mind for awhile that I wanted to give something back to the NICU, and Rosemary's birthday was the perfect occasion. Ideally, the gift would have been a sack full of little hats that I would had crocheted for the tiny baby heads, but my crochet projects move agonizingly slow these days, and I have yet to successfully make a baby hat. So what I did instead was go out and buy two preemie boy outfits and two preemie girl outfits. The NICU had dressed Rosemary in their clothing while she was there, and we ended up taking one of their outfits home with us (I'm not going to give it back either). That being the case, I thought giving them more clothes was fitting.

Our experience going to the hospital was entirely different this time. We pulled into the parking garage and the attendant stopped us right at the entrance asking for our name and our business at the hospital. She said parking was free today, which was a very welcome change! We found a spot, pulled OUR BABY and gifts out of the car, entered the hospital's lobby, walked straight to the elevator and pushed the up button, waited, entered the elevator and pushed the button for the 5th floor, waited, exited the elevator, walked down the hall, turned right... and the doors were already wide open for us. Another family had just entered the NICU and it seemed like the doors were delaying their automatic close. They knew we were standing there, wanting to pass. Senpai and I stood in the hallway and had a little discussion about who should enter first, or should we all go even though Rosemary wasn't allowed due to her age. The doors were still open, waiting for us, so we took the chance and all went in together.

There was no hand washing. No signing in. The front desk attendant and a group of nurses who happened to be standing there were thrilled to see us. It took a bit of prodding for them to remember. She doesn't look like she was a preemie! What did you say your name was? How big was she when she came in? She was 4 lbs 13 oz when she was born. She's 22 lbs now! Is she walking yet? Not walking, no, but she can stand. It won't be too much longer! No... it won't.

Wordless

My Mom, R's Oma, is concerned that R doesn't know any words yet.

I gave up keeping track of milestones around 7 months for R because it was so hit or miss with her. The books all say, "Here's what an average full-term baby will do around a certain age, but preemies will do what they'll do on their own timeline, regardless of their corrected gestational age." To that, I said, "Okay," and just let R develop as she pleased without pushing her.

But now that it comes to words, something she can't instinctively know, I guess I need to step up and "give her the words," as my Mom put it. I'm starting simple with toys that she interacts with daily: ball, doll, book, block (can I pause here and tell you how awesome HABA toys are?? R got this block set as well as Big Voyage for Christmas and she plays with them all the time. You just can't go wrong with HABA). Every day I've been putting two of those things in front of her, repeating what they are, and then asking her to pick one. She doesn't understand the question.

Kelle at Enjoying the Small Things had mentioned flash cards that have been working for her baby. Her baby is only two months older than R, but she was born full term. R will be one year old at the end of March, but technically she wasn't due until mid-May. Maybe it is a little soon for R to know how to pick a certain object out of a lineup. Or is it?



I think we'll go buy some flash cards today.

Longer Out Than In

R is almost 9 months old. I was about to get all sentimental, "Oh, she'll be out in the world for longer than she'd been inside me!" But then I realized that it's already happened; R was premature! She was born at 33 weeks, also known as 7 1/2 months, holy crap I totally missed that milestone. Sigh. So, as of the middle of November, she has been on the outside longer than she was inside.



On a happy note, my body is back to how it was pre-pregnancy, just with slightly bigger boobs (I'm okay with that).

A Month-Long Experiment in Wordage

I have recently noticed some bloggers participating in the #reverb10 "reflect on this year & manifest what's next" exercise. This sounds like a beautiful idea. I'm in.

December 1 One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

2010's word is BABY. Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby. I was 5 months pregnant with my first child in January. I had quit working already, and every second of every day was devoted to maintaining my health and the health of the baby. It was a difficult pregnancy rife with exhaustion, lots of doctor appointments, leg swelling, and painful feet. The baby was due mid-May, but we were scared by contractions happening at the end of February. Those contractions were stopped, only to continue again at the end of March, when a bad turn in my health meant baby had to come out 7 weeks early. It's been a whirlwind ever since of daily visits to the NICU when she was there for her first 20 days, and then caring for a premature infant when we brought her home, to colic for the next 6 months, and now, finally, I'm able to care for her, myself, and even get some chores done, too. All eyes are still on the baby, but that's because she is just too cute to ignore!

I hope that 2011 brings more... how do I put it? Understanding? Maybe assurance in what I'm doing? I certainly want less craziness. Yeah, I guess assurance, self-assurance, is the word.


December 2 Writing.
What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?

Wasting time on the internets. No doubt. Facebook, stupid games, manga, etc... nothing to contribute to anything. I got swept up in the belief of, "I'm pumping! I can't do ANYTHING, so I might as well waste time." And waste time I have done, so very many times. Just because I'm pumping breast milk doesn't mean I can't write, or create something. It's disheartening to look back over this past year and realize just how very little I have accomplished. I'm not a writer per se... my blog has only a few followers and I don't have any other writing projects, but it is still nice to create something.

Yes, internet time-suckage can certainly be eliminated, if not drastically reduced. Just look at me now, writing this blog post instead of zoning out in front of Sudoku. ^_^ I'm proud.

She Grieves

Even though I have no reason to be up this late anymore, tonight I just can't sleep. I learned tonight that a pregnant friend had attended a Le Leche Club meeting, and it was an emotional tipping point for me. I have not yet grieved for my inability to breastfeed. It stabs me in the heart each time I hear about my friends breastfeeding their babies. I really wanted to be able to do it, too... I really wanted to do it. I sit here trembling and tearing up over the injustice of it, and I need to let this go. Just let it go.

I couldn't help that R was born premature. Before actually going through it myself, I had thought that the women who developed preeclampsia had been under too much emotional or work-related stress. I thought if I just quit my job and took it easy during pregnancy, then preeclampsia couldn't happen to me. I mean, I was a massage therapist for all that matters! Aren't massage therapists supposed to be the relaxation EXPERTS?? But even though I had stopped working and wasn't under emotional stress, I hadn't considered physical stress. I've been a type 1 diabetic for over 20 years. Poorly controlled. I may have a clotting disorder called protein s deficiency [Update: the test for protein s deficiency came back negative. See here]. Hypothyroidism. Even though I try to eat well and exercise, you can't call me healthy. So this time around (it's not for certain that it'll happen again) my body could not handle pregnancy. HELLP Syndrome manifested, and that baby had to get out... to save us both.

Instead of staying in my bed after birth, nuzzled up against my chest, learning how to suckle from my breast, R was in an isolette in the NICU, being reminded to breath with caffeine, and receiving her nutrition from a tube down her throat, while I was in my hospital room, sleeping all day long and recovering from a taxed liver. I was able to pump breastmilk, the supply was there for her, but she was just as tired as I was. Getting her to drink from a bottle was such a challenge. The strength and stamina simply were not there for her to breastfeed. As she grew, I started working with a lactation consultant at the hospital, and we thought we had it. We really thought we had it. Until she came home.

I was so tired of pumping, and so thrilled to have my baby home, that I did not want to continue. No more pumping for me, I've got my baby now!! So I stopped pumping, and I did not give R supplementary bottles. She's breastfeeding! She doesn't need bottles. After a rough week of endless feedings, nonstop for hours on end, and a disgruntled and very sleepy baby, I called the lactation consultant and she said R was still too weak to breastfeed. I needed to wait at least until her due date, which was three weeks away. That was not what I wanted to hear... it was back to pumping, back to bottles, and even back to formula since my milk supply had diminished.

By the time R's due date came around, she had completely forgotten about my breast. Plastic was more familiar to her than skin, and bottles delivered the milk so freely and easily. She didn't want to breastfeed. I made an appointment with another lactation consultant. This woman helped me get R to latch on, but she also propped me up with lots of pillows and took care of burping R who was just getting into her colic. There was hope during the appointment, but it was so hard to then take R home and do it all by myself. I had to squish the pillows underneath R who was already in my arms, hope I had the positioning right, try to calm her down, and then toss all of the pillows aside so I could stand up and bounce her to try to settle her/remove gas. Wash, rinse, repeat... give up, give the screaming baby a bottle.

It was so hard to keep trying because she escalates so fast. She doesn't just cry, no, she'll cry for all of one second before suddenly she's screaming at the top of her lungs and I'm wondering where the mute button or at least volume controls are. I'll be deaf before I know it. Breastfeeding this baby is nothing short of impossible. It will take a miracle. I don't know where to find a miracle.

If I were Pollyanna playing the glad game, I can be glad that R is healthy. I can be glad that R is getting my breastmilk. I can be glad that R has learned to drink from a bottle. But my heart still grieves the lost and missed experience of breastfeeding. It's the one piece of the puzzle that somehow doesn't even fit anymore. I wish it would.

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.