Well. I suppose the only ooey gooey details I'll be sharing now are just details about breastfeeding. (Oh no! I'm using the word nipple!) I'd tell you to leave the blog if that bothers you, but I've decided instead to implore you to get over it. Breastfeeding is teh awesome.
Breastfeeding
I might as well start this off with the breastfeeding saga, I guess. Amelia started exhibiting feeding cues about ten minutes after birth. So clearly the urge to eat was there... the skills to eat, however, were not there. Sure, she'd open her mouth wide, but she somehow just could not find the nipple. I'd try to aim it in into her mouth, but she'd take her tiny, uncoordinated fist and bat my hand away. And then flail around desperately looking for the source of noms and making anticipatory sounds.
I knew a lot of the basics involved in breastfeeding, but I was still somewhat at a loss. Sure, I knew that a good latch was not supposed to hurt, but even squishing the nipple into a "nipple sandwich" so it fit better in Amelia's tiny mouth seemed to be of limited help. It still didn't feel good. She might get a latch of some sort, but most of the time it was the kind of latch that required me to immediately break suction and start all over again.
The nurses helped us a bit... it helped to have two more hands besides mine to help guide her mouth to my nipple... and keep rogue limbs out of the way. However, it turns out nipplefinding was not the only problem.
Once the elusive nipple was found and introduced into her mouth, Amelia would thrust it out forcefully with her tongue, and then get furious and shocked to find that the newly caught nipple had escaped already... and after all that hard work just finding the darned thing.
Man, Amelia and I struggled and struggled. The first night was definitely very hard. I am told that many early babies have trouble with breastfeeding... I was comforted many times that our ordeal was mostly Amelia's fault, and not mine. Have you ever tried to waltz with a horrible dancer? Imagine doing pivots with that dancer. Wooo-ee! You fear for your life. And your feet. It is in such a manner that I feared for the welfare of my delicate nipples.
The nurses helped sooooo much. Although I was doing well enough to go home pretty much immediately, I decided to stay in the hospital long enough to get the hang of the whole feeding baby thing. I am so glad I did. One thing they had us do was "suck training" with our finger. We'd let her suck on our finger and we'd try to teach her how to suck correctly by pushing her tongue down. This was supposed to stop tongue thrusting.
At some point, they tested her blood sugar to make sure she was getting enough noms, but it was low. Neither James nor I remember having been told that little tidbit of information at this point, but I think that this was why they began teaching me alternate ways to get noms into the baby's belly.
They sent a lactation consultant to help me. She of course gave me more very useful advice on breastfeeding, but she also taught me how to hand-express colostrum/ milk onto a spoon. James would then spoonfeed her.
She took about 14 drops of colostrum for the first spoonfeeding. This was supposedly plenty for the first feeding. It seemed that she liked it... it was like magic ambrosia or something. I felt better, because now Amelia was certainly not starving to death. I also felt better because... well, who doesn't feel better when their kid isn't screaming his or her head off? The whole feeling-better-about-feeding thing wore off pretty quickly...
The next time Amelia got hungry was particularly traumatic. First we tried the whole breastfeeding ballet thing again, intricate nipple-mouth choreography and all. It wasn't long before Amelia was really upset and crying miserably.
It got to where she was crying continuously without pausing to close her mouth... Which was a problem because I had put the nipple completely in her mouth. Nipples are pretty inefficient feeding devices unless the baby latches on and starts sucking. If she'd just closed her mouth and sucked, she could probably have eaten right then, but she was so mad and didn't seem to notice just how close her quarry was. I'd shove the nipple in deeper, but all that did was muffle her cries. Lame.
Well. That's what the spoon is for, right? I started hand-expressing colostrum again, but soon it was obvious that this time, 14 drops wasn't going to cut it. And getting a mere two or three drops at a time was definitely not okay in Amelia's book. Theoretically I could have kept hand-expressing, but... it took me about 30 seconds to get just a few drops. Oh noes!
The nurse brought a breast pump and taught me how to use it. Man, using a breast pump for the first time is... strange. It's like having two see-through vacuum hoses on your nipples (your oh-so-sensitive nipples, oh my), vacuuming rhythmically. And magically, little yellowish-white streams of liquid drip into an attached container. Weird.
Using the pump, I eventually got about 7 mL of colostrum. Woo! I make lots of milk! Now to get the stuff inside that wailing thing in James' lap over there. We sucked it into a syringe, attached the syringe to very thin and very long plastic tubing, taped the tube onto James' finger, and stuck the finger into Amelia's mouth. Then James would push milk in when she was sucking. This made for a very happy Amelia. (MMMM MALK!) To our surprise, she drank all 7 mL. Oh. She was HONGRYYY.
Next time I made 11 mL. Then 14 mL. Then 35 mL. And she drank it ALL. (In the style of Hyperbole and a Half: DRINK ALL THE MILK!) We began to doubt the commonly held belief that newborn baby stomachs only held a few teaspoons.
At some point in the middle of the second night, a nurse came to check Amelia's glucose again. The nurse mourned aloud that if Amelia's glucose level was low again, she'd probably have to go to the NICU. I'd been pretty sleepy, but this instantly got my attention. I think the nurse had assumed we'd already been informed that her first glucose level had been low, and subsequently informed the potential for treatment in the NICU if it stayed low. We hadn't heard this, however, so we were surprised to hear this. I'm glad neither James nor I are particularly anxious people, because I could see this causing panic in some parents. Pretty soon though, we heard the nurse exclaim with joy--the glucose was back up and Amelia did not have to move to the NICU. Hooray!
Of course I continued to try to get Amelia to learn how to feed at the breast without getting upset and angry. Poor baby. She was definitely getting better each time, but she wasn't getting better quickly enough to survive off of the nutrient-filled boob alone. I'm convinced she liked James better than she liked me for a little while because James' finger gave milk easily and plentifully, while my breasts seemed to enjoy withholding it from her. To make matters worse, I smelled like milk... how tantalizing. And frustrating when you're starving, yes?
Anyway, after two days in the hospital, I decided we were getting the hang of this breastfeeding thing, so we went home. We rented a breast pump ($2 per day!) to take home to aid us as Amelia worked on developing mad eating skills.
The first night at home, however, was rough. I guess she was really, really hungry and thus more impatient than usual. And it took about half an hour to get the milk out of my breasts and into a syringe and into her belly. Now, you try calming an angry, very hungry baby without noms for that long. She was so upset. James and I slept horribly that night.
At about 4 am, I tried to feed her again, but to my horror, when I pumped, there was much less than had been coming out each time beforehand. The ladies felt full, but they certainly weren't acting like it. And my breasts were so sore; my nipples were, cracked, bleeding, and bruised. I felt awful. I kept trying desperately to feed her (or at least calm her) for the next two hours. Finally, at about 6 am, I broke down and started sobbing myself. Amelia finally passed out (possibly from exhaustion) at 6:30 or so. I called the on-call lactation consultant, who promised to come visit us at home at 10 am. Then I, too, passed out from exhaustion.
The lactation consultant did come and she helped us out a bit. It was reassuring to hear her reaffirm that I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was doing everything I could, and I was doing it right... furthermore, my milk was already coming in plentifully. Amelia eventually got a pretty good latch and was able to finally fill her little belly. Then we both passed out again.
And guess what? By that evening, we pretty much had the whole breastfeeding thing figured out. She was still pretty tense during feedings, but she has now started getting all limp and contented as soon as that boob gets out. Success!
Jaundice
Amelia came out with awful bruising all over her head. Poor baby. She probably had the most torturous headache ever for at least the first day of life. Within a day or so after birth, Amelia started turning yellow. We have been told that the bruises probably contributed to the development of jaundice. (Bilirubin is one of the byproducts made when your body breaks down old, dead red blood cells. It turns your skin and the whites of your eyes yellow when your liver doesn't process it quickly enough.) It also probably didn't help that Amelia was two weeks early, as this may have meant her liver wasn't quite developed enough to process everything.
Well... guess what we're supposed to do to help Amelia's jaundice get better? Breastfeed. Give her lots and lots and MORE LOTS of breastmilk... I think the idea is to flush out the bilirubin. So, yeah. No pressure. It's not like breastfeeding was stressful in the first place...
But then Amelia would start sleeping lots. And she wouldn't wake up to eat. We'd poke her. Wiggle a milky nipple in her face... Face paint her with breast milk... Yeah. The kid would be completely conked out. So we'd let her sleep. Apparently, jaundiced babies get super lethargic and sleep lots.
The nurse, though, strongly admonished us to wake her up somehow, because if she doesn't wake up to eat, then she won't eat enough to help the jaundice go away, and then the jaundice would get worse, and then horrible things could happen. Like damage to the nervous system.
Ugh. Okay. Gotcha. Get that baby out of her blissful coma. So basically, to wake her up, we'd often have to do all the things she hates until she got annoyed enough to wake up. Let's strip you naked! Expose you to cold air! Poke, poke! Change your diaper! Oop, cold stethoscope on your chest! Poke you with a cold, wet rag!
Anyway, we've been going to the pediatrician every two days for a jaundice and weight check. On Friday, she was already gaining weight again and was less yellow. Her bilirubin was still high, but she had a negative Coombs test. (That's good.) She was also feeding frequently. Oh, and producing waste frequently.
(Speaking of which, holy cow, this baby has a talent for making poop and pee. They told us that, for a particular day, Amelia should be making x number of wet diapers and y number of soiled diapers. In reality, she produces greater than 2x wet diapers and greater than 2y soiled diapers. She is already such an overachiever! She should get extra credit for that or something.)
Today Amelia's bilirubin was slightly higher than it was on Friday, but she's been doing so well otherwise that they'll just have us keep an eye on her yellowness until her well baby visit next week. Woot!
Mom's Recovery
I am doing wonderfully. I have so much freaking energy, it's amazing. Remember how I mused a few times about how strange it is to actually have energy now that my thyroiditis and depression/ anxiety are well managed? Yes, it's official. I still feel amazing now that I'm not pregnant and incessantly nauseous. (I can stuff my face as much as I want now. Yusssss.)
It's been wonderful. I definitely wasn't expecting the burst of energy right after the birth. I've been able to do all the errands and such that I was too tired to do beforehand. I've actually had energy to get up and clean stuff. I look outside on a nice day and think, "Huh. I should go on a walk." And then I actually do. It's amazing!
Except for that one night where I broke down crying after unsuccessfully breastfeeding for two and a half hours, I sleep well. Sure, it's not continuous sleep, but I do feel rested in the mornings. Overall, I'm getting enough, I think. Amelia doesn't really cry at night. Of course, she makes some noises and wiggles a bit in the night when she wants noms, but I get up and feed her in time to prevent a furious crying frenzy.
In the hospital, they kept asking how my pain level was. Even hours after delivery, I'd blink and think, "What pain? I feel perfect." And this is true. I have zero back pain. I feel full of vitality. At first, I definitely noticed that all my muscles were very fatigued after labor, but I wouldn't say they hurt. It just kind of felt like I'd had a full-body workout.
The only thing that is a little annoying is the presence of stitches in the down there nether regions. Oh, and sore nipples. But I usually have to consciously search my body for pain to find those pains. Sure, the pain is there, but I hardly think about it. It might as well not be there. (Maybe these don't seem like a big deal to me after having a pain disorder for years. I don't know.)
I went to church today. People thought I was super hardcore or crazy or something. I don't think they quite understood how ill I'd been for the last nine months. I mean seriously, I can't think of a good reason why I shouldn't have gone to church today; I feel so much better now than I did throughout pregnancy, and I went to church while pregnant. Whatever.
Oh. Also, I am skinny again. I think I'm the same size as I was pre-pregnancy (or perhaps skinnier?), only squishier.
Love and rice krispie treats,
Jenna and Amelia
No comments:
Post a Comment