Torpedos

Back in the day(high school to be exact) my group of friends, lovingly called: The Beverlys... or "The Bevs" for short, had a breast sizing system. The sizes ranged from :"torpedo tits" all the way down to "gun powder". "Bullets" and "bee bees" ( or however you spell it) were the mid range and smaller size. I had : torpedo tits. When I was in high school, I was well, let's just say bigger than I am today. It wasn't a big deal really, I was just 5' tall... and weighed well over 150 lbs. It was the beginning of my kidney disease... where I retained every ounce of fluid I ate or drank all over my entire body. I wasn't flabby or out of shape... quite the opposite... I was just that one portly girl on the lacrosse team and tennis team that everyone loved. I was happy... and perky... and when I say perky, I mean all over. My "torpedos" rested somewhere in my neck. The girls hadn't dropped. The rack stood pround and strong, and BIG. After I got my diabetes in better control... and was put on a slew of diaretics and ace inhibitors... I lost the weight, and and my D sized lovelies shrunk to a big A or a small B. I saw them as manageable... and much sexier than the huge tracks of land I had in the past. When I got pregnant I knew something was up. The thing that was up was the size of my boobs. I swelled up to a 40 D. After Angus was born I spent the first few weeks being engorged... and trying to figure out breast feeding and the like. I noticed that the nursing bras I bought for the ol' hospital bag were a tad snug. I went to Motherhood Maternity today to actually buy some nursing shirts and some new bras. I am not.. shall we say, uh~ discreet when it comes to nursing... maybe a few new bras and a coupla shirts actually designed for breastfeeding would help a shy girl out. The lady who worked in the store asked me if I needed to get measured. I gladly accepted her offer. She said " you should be wearing a 36 E." WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA? D-d-d-did she just say the letter E?! Good-NESS! I never thought I'd ever go that large! I'm almost as big as my Dolly!( back when she was in middle school ;) ) The great news is that I obviously was put on this Earth to nurse a baby with these things. Boobs... not just for holding up bikini tops anymore.

Dizzy are you out there?

Here we find Angus channelling the late great Dizzy Gillespie. With cheeks like these we can only hope that he grows to be a world renowned trumpet player. :)

Week 3... am I getting the hang of this yet?

Before I get into life w/ baby & 2 four year olds: I saw the Lactation Consultant on Friday morning. She was very cool, and very supportive of my concerns. Her first opinion was that Gus doesn't have reflux. She asked when he seems to pull off and arch his back when he eats. I told her about 2 -3 minutes into the feed. She said that in her opinion, he wasn't refluxing. (because he will eat for 20 minutes at a time w/out signs of pain) She believes that I have a monster of a "let down" and Gus probably gets a mouthful of milk very quickly, and has to pull off and gag and choke because he's getting too much at once, not refluxing. The other issue is: After he pulls off ( due to the "let down") he doesn't re-establish his wide opened mouth latch.. because he probably doesn't want another mouthful of milk, so he keeps his lips closer together, as to not allow the large quantities of milk to choke him again. She said that he was probably guarding himself. Makes perfect sense to me. It made so much sense to me that I stopped giving him that god awful zantac. ( I will discuss this w/ Dr. G on Monday) Gus' voice isn't hoarse anymore, and he eats willingly for 20-30 minutes. I THINK I MIGHT be getting the hang of this breastfeeding stuff. Gus is back up to his birth weight( 9#4 oz) and is 21 1/2 " long. I cna't believe I grew a baby of his size in my body. He must have been so smooshed! I was laughing last night when Millie wanted to carry him across the room. I said, "MS Gus weighs almost half as much as you do.. and he's only 3 weeks old. :)" Any bets on when Gus passes Millie? I bet it'll be within the first year.

Now: Life in this house:
My mom went home for a nice weekend with my dad and to spend some time with some of her friends. She left at 3pm on Friday. At approximately 3:05 I had to feed Gus. MS & HIP were playing with some wooden blocks in the family room " building a city." At approximately 3:07 MS freaked out ( over nothing from what I can tell) and kicked over HIP's buildings, and growled at him. HIP immediately started to cry. MS bitch slapped him. I calmly stated: "we do not do this in our house." MS SCREAMED, " YOU'RE NOT COMING TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!!!GRRRRRRRSQUEAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I said, " Little one, you better get your act together. I know you are angry, but this is not a nice way to talk to anyone. Do you want to tell me what is going on , so I can help?" MS: " NOOOOOOOOOO! AHHHHHGRRRRRRR!" Okay... tick tock tick tock... Me: " Millie Sue, I think you might need to go upstairs for a little while and think about how to be nice to people. MS : "" I'm not going upstairs." Me: ( getting close to my breaking point) You do not have a choice anymore, you will go ustairs for 5 minutes." " MS: " No I won't!" Me : (at the point where I can see a downward spiral of screaming developing) ... silence... angry face. " MILLICENT GET UPSTAIRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Oh man...it happened. I lost my cookies because my kid didn't listen to me. Where did my " kinder gentler way of parenting" go? I'm not a parent who compares her children to other children. I'm not a person who likes to be compared to others because I want to be my own person, not one of the herd. As I say that, I also want the elusive respect I see other kids give their parents when they speak. Now, I'm not saying that I'm not proud of Millie for standing firm on her feelings... because I have never been able to do that. I always victimize the other person, and give in. It's my nature to not be confrontational. When in a resturant, if I find a short and curly ( yes... that kind of short and curly... and yes it did happen to me)hair in my mashed potatoes on the first bite, I calmly gag and push the plate away. Nothing is ever mentioned. I internally deal, and a fuss is never made. I have friends who will ask to move tables in a resturant because the woman sitting behind us is wearing perfume that is too strong. Ya know what? That is totally cool... as long as I'm not the one doing the complaining... but I digress: Millie is a strong little woman with a HOT temper. I am currently trying to figure out how to teach her that while it is definitely okay to be angry... growling and screaming threats louder than a howler monkey is pretty much frowned upon in society. So, back to the story, I have one kid WAILING because he was un-invited to his twin sister's birthday party for the thousand'th time in one day... a long haired,skinny pterodactyl screaming at the top of her lungs, and a baby vacuumed to my right boob... listening to his first argument on the "outside." I felt so bad for Gus... he was sucking away... with his brow all furrowed. I kept telling myself... " find your happy place, find your happy place..." I finally got Millie to go upstairs. She sat up there yelling " how much longer?????!!!" Once I yelled back " until you're 18 and then you can go get your own place!" Oh man! How is she so much like me??? It is so frustrating sometimes. I feel bad for her because I can only imagine that the reason this all started was because HIP built something she 1) didn't like, or 2) was jealous she couldn't build something like that. NOW: stretch that temper tantrum into an entire weekend.. yes people... she has been like this since friday afternoon. I needless to say am a little worn out. I know that MS's little life is changing these days, and I should allow for some frustration... so I will continue to figure out how to communicate and see eye to eye with my 26 pound 4 year old prize fighter. Gus Gus seems to think that is is cool to be awake ( and happy) from about 2 am - 6 am. Just kickin' and talkin' to the ceiling... and asking to eat out of boredom. Ahhhh yes... I have become a " pacifier"... in every way Let's see how week 4 goes.

We're all good.

It seems that eventhough Gus mayyyy have an incorrect latch... he is getting enough calories to hold him over. Gus weighed 9lbs 1 oz today! Yes indeedy he gained one half a pound in 7 days. So we're not using the "s" word in our vocabulary... at least not right now. :) It was discovered that Gus has a touch of the reflux. I noticed that his little voice was a little hoarse... and he arches a lot when he eats. Back when M& H were babes... I would have freaked out and called as soon as I heard any change in their voices... but I wasn't as quick to diagnose Gus with reflux due to his size. ( M&H both were relfuxing fools until they were 1. We speak reflux very fluently. ) As much as I hate it.. Gus was put on zantac. Hopefully this will do the trick and he will grow out of it soon. Dr. G. said that he couldn't be happier with Gus' health. He said that Gus is looking great and gave me the old standard, " Keep up the good work." I am still planning on going to see the lactation consultant in the morning, just to make sure that I am working these boobies the right way, and I'm not wasting anyone's time... especially Gus'.

Last night was a real eye opener: I ( accidentally ) fell asleep @ 11pm while feeding Gus. Parker woke me up @ 2:30. I got up and got ready for bed... and fed the wee one. As I was finishing up the 3 0'clock feed, in walked a very warm... and very sleepy Holden. Seems that his fever spiked back up, and the " coughs" were keeping him awake. I put G back in the bassinet, and got to work on the older boy variety. I medicated /hydrated/and snuggled him back into dreamland. I woke up in a toddler bed @ 6:45.. walked myself back to my bed... woke up @ 7 for the 7 o'clock feed. I sat up @ 9:45 very groggy, but somehow glad that I did it.. and I didn't even cry. Maybe just maybe I'm going to be able to do this after all.

Due date.

February 20th was Gus' due date. It was kind of weird to look back on my pregnancy yesterday. I coincidentally had an appointment w/Dr. L. It was nice to see her. I had a little seperation anxiety from her/ Georgetown hospital. Think about it... I was there 4 times a week for the last 2 months of my pregnancy. I got used to my surroundings. Anyways...Dr. L checked my incision... and checked my head to see if i have PPD. Everything checked out okay... and I was sent on my way. I am going to make an appointment w/ a lactation consultant today. I am afraid that Gus' latch isn't quite right... and i'm not getting enough milk into him. Today is the official "weigh in" @ Dr. G's. Hopefully G is gaining weight... or I'm sure I'll hear the "s" word. Everyone keep their fingers crossed... and think heavy thoughts.

unconditional

I hope he never makes me stop doing this to him. Okay... it might look a little weird when he's 30 years old... but you know what I mean.

We're Fockerizing

I'm not trying to look for reasons to question the way I parent. I'm not even sure I agree w/ all the AP opinions etc... I do know that I am trying a calmer.. more soothing way to raise my children than I did in the past. With a little bit of research and the ability to count to ten in my head before screaming my head off... I really want to try the elusive attachment parenting. Problem is: am I setting myself up? I LOVE wearing Gus. LOVE IT. He gets all squished up in the fetal position... and rests his head on my boobs for hours, while he's in the pouch. I prefer not to put him in a swing. ( eventhough Millie and Holden spent probably 70% of their days as babies in swings as I tried to learn how to be their mommy.) No loud music. ( eventhough Millie and Holden rocked out to Southern Culture on the Skids pretty much all day... since it was the one thing that calmed them down) I HATE to hear him cry ( eventhough when Millie and Holden were babies I would not allow anyone to touch them for 30 minutes as they learned to "self soothe." ) I'm not sure Gus has ever cried for more than 40 seconds while I changed his diaper, and when he does fuss.. I just say, " what's the fuss Gus? " and he stops and looks for my face. He has never been instructed to " self soothe" and when given the oppertunity, Gus lays next to me in bed while I nurse him quietly telling him how much I love him. What happened to me? Why was I so " hard" on Millie and Holden.. but totally protective of Gus? WHy was I uncomfortable telling Millie and Holden that I loved them until they were well over 1 year old? Maybe I realized that life is hard... and children should look to their parents as a support network-vs- dictators. Maybe I was so terrified to lose Millie and Holden ( due to their rocky start) that I was a tough ass out of defense?Maybe the bond was harder to establish because Susan carreid them? ( I HOPE that is not the reason!) I don't know... but I will tell you: I feel guilty about my past parenting style. I have been told by a few people to "put him down" to sleep.. "so he gets used to it." My argument there is : His actual due date isn't until tomorrow. If he were still inside of me, he'd feel movements and hear my voice. I can't imagine feeling certain movements, and hearing one person's voice as long as my ears worked... and all of a sudden have to " learn" ( by my own defenses) how to sleep on my back... and cry.. and hear other people's voices up close and personal. I know that in time I will want to put Gus down. For now I want to ease everyone into the transition... KINDLY. I don't want to bark " I am doing this my way... leave me alone!" to the people trying to help me. They aren't saying these things to start trouble. I know they are trying to help. Hey, if I'm willing to allow Gus to use my boob as his pacifier from 1:45AM - 4:45 AM... that's my choice, right? I could EASILY pop a noonie in his mouth... but, where's the kindness in that? Parker isn't into the co-bedding-baby wearing- cloth diapering thing as much as I am... but he doesn't disrespect the choices I am making. I am thankful for him. I know things feel a little rocky, but I bet in a few weeks I'll have this down pat. For now I'll nod my head and smile... and know that if I wanna wear my baby until he asks me to put him down ... I can do that. Parker and I like to joke and say " we're Fockerizing Gus." ( if you don't get that one.. go watch the movie " Meet the Fockers." HILARIOUS) We'll do what's right for us... and save up for Gus' therapy along the way.

2 weeks gone by

I think there is a cruel irony about the weeks post partum. Why is it that the ol' pregnancy hormones hit ya a week after the delivery? I mean, think about it, I had to carry this little guy( shut up, I know he's huge... but it's all relative right?) for 37 weeks to finally meet him... and for the weeks following his birth.. I am riddled with fear and anxiety. Now,I hold him and look at him pretty much all day... and it is just now that I am able to see his inate beauty. I revel in his babyness and the spectacle that is all him. I get lost in the sounds of his breathing and the smell of his hair. I love when he tries to latch onto my lips and I take the oppertuity to kiss him all over his face. I get sad because I think back to the week we came home from the hosptial and I remember how troubled I felt about having a new baby. I want that week back! DO over! I don't think Gus minds... as long as I hold him and give him my boobs when he asks. I don't remember the power of being a new mom to Millie and Holden. I remember being kind of scared, but proud of my responsibility... and really played down the twin card... make believing that it was " easy." Gus is easy. Gus cries when I change his diaper... and when he is hungry. Other than that he is the wunkerkind baby I totally don't deserve. I cannot believe how lucky I am to have been given this oppertunity. What a totally amazing experience. A few days ago I realized that I now have 3 children... who rock my world more each day. What did I do to deserve this?

Pouch glorious pouch

Jennifer what would I do without you? Yes friends, my friend Jen ( Jenny to me and a handful of others) Makes these absolutely amazing pouch slings. I cannot tell you how amazing they are... you have to find out for yourself. Scoot yer fruit on over to http://www.bellalinabambina.com and order up a slew of them today! You'll thank me for it. I tried very hard to wear Millie and Holden when they were babies.. but they were so small, they would get all swallowed up in the fabric. Given " Tiny's" girth.. he fits in this thing jusssst right. There are days where Gus is in it for 3-4 hours and he is snoozin' the entire time. He gets mad when I take him out to feed him. One of these days I'll figure out how to nurse him while he is IN the pouch. :) Baby steps... I just figured out how to get the kid to latch on without cussing my head off because it hurts so badly. I will say.. I think poor Baby Gus gets a little confused when his little face is up against my boobs. A few times he has literally bounced ( yes just like a ball) his face off of my boobies over and over again.. getting madder by the second because there is just no nipple to be found.. and I am obviously wearing him just to tease him. The pouch has also saved his life. Remember that two 4 year olds can be pretty powerful when they want to accomplish something. I shoulda known something was up when they were 3 years old & they poured diet coke into an apple juice bottle and put it in the fridge ... and started begging for " juice." 3 Years old people. They make sure they get what they want. Let's just say that Gus is safe if I wear him. Hence... I am an attachment parent by default. It's cool. That's what I wanted anyways.

The "F" word. Gus : one week old.

We arrived home from the hosptial on Sunday February 5th at about 1 pm. All seemed well. The next day We saw our awesome pediatrician, Dr. Gober for the official "check in." Gus' bilirubin tested a level 12 on Sunday at the hospital. Dr. Gober said that was perfect, and all again was well. He even gave us his old faithful, " keep up the good work, he looks great" line. We had no reason to worry! Finally: a full term baby who was happy, healthy and fat fat fat. The next day my good friend Cathy came over (per my demands :) ) to meet Baby Gus. Cathy noticed the yellow in Gus' skin, but I told her " oh he's fine.. the doctor said..." bla bla bla. After Cathy left, I got a little nervous, so what was the harm in calling good ol' Dr. G? Dr. G said, why don't we just have him checked out... to be safe. Parker and I packed it up and went to the hospital lab to ease our minds, knowing that it was a waste of time, but still worth it to check, just in case. Shows you how much we know. Dr. Gober called the SECOND were returned home fromthe lab. He said " Take Gus back to the hospital." It seems that the cut off for a high bilirubin is 25 ( seizures, deafness, CP etc.. are all complications from a biliruben results of this level.) Gus's bilirubin was 22. We arrived at Shady Grove Hosptial at 10 pm. We walked into our room to find out that our roomate was a 17 year old girl passing a kidney stone. We apologized for the inconvienience. She said " ohh it's okay, I have a 6 week old at home, I'm used to it." Gus was put on a very strict every 2 hour feeding schedule... and we were forced to supplement w/ formula( the "F" word) WITH A BOTTLE. NOOOOOOOOOOO say it isn't so! A Bottle?.. .But but.. Gus is a breastfed baby! He's still learning... can't we cup feed??? " No" said the nurse. I was devastated. I was going to mess everything up. Luckily my hormones were kicking in.. so I was crying about everything. ( especially the fact that we were having a bris for Gus.) I cried through the night as I shared a hosptial bed with Parker... winced at every move since my incision was very tender... and my body hurt. I cried at every feed...knowing that a bottle was the enemy... eventhough it was helping my little baby boy hydrate... and pee and poo out those yucky left over dead red blood cells his immature little liver couldn't kill off. The guilt set in nicely as I realized that I never once questioned Millie adn Holden's care inthe NICU and never once "guraded" my children as they were having procedures. IF someone even thought about touching Gus that night, I was very defensive and concerned that Gus was scared or confused. I felt like such a bad mother. Do I love Gus more than I love Millie and Holden??? Ahh confusion.. hormones... fear... anger! I fell asleep crying. A lactation consultant arrived @ about 10 am. She was very upset that we were forced to bottle feed .. especially since I could have fed the entire pediatric unit w/ the amount of milk I produce. We arranged to "finger feed" Gus. YAY! No more stinky formula or nipple confusion! I felt like that bolder on my shoulder was lifted. Later in the morning we were told that another bili would be drawn THE NEXT MORNING. Uh oh.. more waterworks. I couldn't stop myself. I was DONE. Another 24 hours of this crap? NO Luckily Dr. G called and I explained that this arrangement was less than satisfactory..and worked out a deal that if Gus' bili came down to an acceptable level, maybe we could go home on a bili-blanket. Gus' next test showed that his bilirubin was 18.5. Not quite low enough. We talked things over with the Dr. on staff . She agreed to re-test Gus' bili and see if things were coming down later that day. @ 5 pm we were told that we could go home. Oh Joy and rapture! HOME! I was laughing and crying at the same time. These hormones can be tricky. We waited until 9pm for the bili blanket guy to arrive...and we skee daddled. Upon arriving at our home.. I lost my cookies. I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't want to feed Gus.. or even look at him. He was screaming his little head off.. and I sat pretty much naked in the bathroom bawling. What a miserable failure I was. Parker offered to finger feed Gus... so I could sleep, but I couldn't pump enough milk. For the first time in a week my body wouldn't make milk. The world's worst anxiety attack followed suit. What a hideous affair. I reluctantly fed Gus. He is so frikkin' awesome. If I were him I would have bitten my nipple hard... but he didn't. He drank slowly and calmly as I cried softly, while surrounded by my poor mom and my frazzled husband. Again my support network is amazing. Convinced I was in the throws of PPD. I crawled into bed.. and sweated the night away... along with feeding my baby boy. Things got better. Gus got better. His bilirubin tested 15 the next day.. and then down to 14 as of Friday night. It's been a long week. I am tired, but not "beaten." I know I can do this.. As long as I have my family with me to remind me that I am only human.. . and I'm doing the best I can.

Hospital couture.

This is the last belly shot we have on January 31st. Notice my hot knee high medical grade stockings. These suckers were tight as a mother to help with the swelling in my legs. As relaxed as I look in this picture, I was absolutely terrified, but hoped to lighten the mood. I loved being pregnant, and I was actually very sad in in this moment, knowing I would only have a few more hours of my round belly and that constant kicking.