Postpartum Decompression

It's been a little over two weeks since Sammy made his big debut. Life has been pretty crazy since he arrived on the scene. I forgot what having a newborn is like; no sleep...no free time, lots and lots of sweet and precious time with a baby that doesn't move...I like that.

Most things have been wonderful. Sammy is a sleeper...he doses off and on most of the day and then sleeps pretty heavy at night...going about 3 hours between feedings. For some reason though I am so exhausted all the time I feel like I could fall asleep standing up. His feedings at night take quite a while. I nurse him, then I have to give him a bottle, then usually I need to change his diaper and re-swaddle...by that time it's almost time to start again. And it doesn't help that I have a hard time sleeping the more tired I get...it's an odd phenomena I've dealt with forever...the more stressed and sleepy I am the harder it is for me to sleep. Oh well.

Eli has dealt with things about as well as can be expected. I can definitely tell he's acting out a little more than usual and pushing limits more and more. Dan and I keep talking about how we can't tell if Eli's getting more attention from us because we're overcompensating for bringing Sam into his life or if he's getting less attention from obvious baby responsibilities. I guess many many older kids have dealt with and survived having a new baby in the house and Eli will too.

The biggest challenge, of course, since Sammy's arrival has been nursing. I really had high hopes this time that things would be better. And things were, for a little bit, until I took Sam to a lactation specialist last week and she told me he wasn't getting enough to eat from me. We did a weigh in before and after a feeding and found he was only getting about an ounce out of me...and he needs at least 2-3 per feeding. So we started bottle feeding and nursing...but to be honest I'm so tired that I may call it quits here pretty soon. I hate to do it. I kinda cry thinking about it....but I am so exhausted I just can't keep doing 45 minute nursing sessions and then do another 20 minutes of bottle feeding and diapers and all that. It's just becoming too much to deal with, especially having Eli to take care of as well.

With Eli I was able to nurse him for about 2 months, supplementing lots with formula. I feel like I'm letting Sammy down if I quit now...but at the same time, as a good friend pointed out, Sammy and Eli really need a sane mommy right now too. Not being able to produce enough milk for my son really takes a hit on my emotions...and I think trying to nurse him every two hours and then having to bottle feed keeps my 'unproductivity' at the front of my mind 24/7. And I've tried everything to boost my supply: pumping round the clock after each feeding, drinking cup after cup of this nasty tea that's supposed to help with production, and so many other things.

I'll have to weigh my options over the next few days and see what to do....I want him to get the best nutrition he can...but formula is just about as healthy as breast milk and it may be worth my sanity to switch over full time.

ANYWAY....enough word vomit. Turns out 5 hours of sleep can make for a pretty rambling me. I love my little son so very very much. I love my big boy Eli so very very much. And I need to give a shout out to my husband...Dan has been...well...there aren't words to describe how much I love him. He has been amazing these last few weeks. He takes my breakdowns in stride, has pretty much been on Eli duty full time since the birth, and does the majority of the house work so I can take care of Sammy. I am one lucky girl.

Life is good. Life is hard. Life is wonderful.

Sam's Birth Part 2

Oh my I just read through part 1 and realized I'm going way too slow. At this pace we'll all be here until Christmas. On the other hand, this is my blog so you can all just sit patiently while I recant the events of my son's birth slowly and in painstaking detail thank you very much.

So, Dan had no idea I was going into labor. I called him up after hanging up with the midwife and told him that yes, I may be in labor (I was still very unconvinced) and that I needed to get up to the hospital (a 25 minute drive) ASAP. He had Eli so at that point I was just going to leave and drive up on my own and if there was anything going on he would drive up after putting Eli to bed. When I got off the phone with him I realized driving myself to the hospital while my son was potentially inching himself nearer to birth may be a bad idea. I called up our dear friend McCall who jumped into action and into her car and came and drove me up to American Fork Hospital.

At the hospital they gave me a gown and told me they wanted to check my progress. The nurse hooked up the monitors and I was contracting every 2-3 minutes, but I still felt very very little. She checked my cervix...still at about a 3 but %70 effaced. She said she'd talked to my midwife and they decided to track my progress for an hour and then see if they wanted to admit me. Dan came up about then and we just sat there kind of in shock. Neither on of us could believe a baby may be quickly imminent. I was still sure in an hour they'd find nothing happening and send me home. After all; I needed some time to get this baby to flip around.

In an hour the nurse came in to check my progress. I'd dialated a little and was %80 effaced. She called up my midwife and after a minute came in and told me they wanted to admit me. I was stunned. They moved me into a delivery room and started an IV. Can I stop at this point to tell you that the biggest miracle of the night (apart from bringing a healthy baby into the world and all that) was the fact that the nurse got my IV in in on try. On a good day it takes a nurse usually about 4 sticks to get me. I was elated. So much that I took a picture. Here:

My midwife Jen came in about then and we talked about our options. I was dialated to a 4 but baby was still head up. His heart rate looked great and all our vitals were fine. We decided to bring in the OB on call, Dr. Young, and do what's called and External Version, or EC. This is where they manually try to move the baby around by pushing on your stomach. Needless to say I got my epidural right about then too.

It's funny; when I was in labor with Eli I was in so much pain I didn't notice the epidural going in at all. With this one, even though I was having contractions ever 2 minutes or so, I was still feeling very little pain so the epidural experience was a little more (hahaha) nerve-wracking.

Once they got me all dosed up Doc Young came in and they started the EC. Let me tell you....it was awful. Jen stood on one side of me and Dr. Young stood on the other and they pushed and pushed...and I don't know how anyone could every do this un-medicated because I was in tears with the epidural. I actually blacked out at one point and they had to stop and give me some oxygen because my heart rate was bottoming out.

After two attempts baby hadn't moved much at all. They stopped and took a break while checking some thing out on the ultrasound. I told them I wanted to try one more time so they gave it one more go and...!! it worked! The ultrasound showed little guy's head just about at the bottom of the uterus. It was like being in one of those space movies where they show mission control after a big rescue and everyone is clapping and shaking hands. Dr. Young broke my water immediately to move baby's head down closer to the cervix and then turned the labor over to Jen. She put me on pitocin to speed things up now that he head was down and ready to go.

She checked me about twenty minutes later and said his head had moved a bit and now his elbow was presenting before his head at the cervical opening. They had to move it before they could deliver, so she tried some things to push it up and told me they'd check my in an hour.

I tried to get some rest, knowing big things were ahead, but I just laid there and thought about the craziness of things. Dan dozed on the couch and I tried to mentally prepare myself for the reality that I was going to meet my boy tonight. In any fashion, he was coming and I'd better face that reality. My brain was still three weeks behind. I had so much I wanted to do before he came. The Christmas tree was still up for pete's sake!

Jen came back in around 1:30 am and checked me out. I could tell by her face that things were not good as she did the exam.

"Robynn, we've got a hand out of the cervix. I can actually feel fingers in the birth canal. We have to do a cesarean right now."

She explained that because the arm was stuck in the birth canal we had to get him out right away. Birthing him vaginally would put too much strain on his arm and he could have permanent damage in his nerves. We had to hurry before he descended any farther.

I was having a hard time processing this new information but things were moving fast so I just had to roll with it. I was nervous. Very very nervous. I'm not a pain kind of person. The thought of scapels and what not while being completely lucid was hurting my brain. I kept asking over and over if they would make sure I couldn't feel anything before they cut in.

Before the took me in the the OR Jen gave Dan a rubber glove and asked him if he'd like to feel the baby's hand. Dan reached up (yes...he's not the sqeemish type) and was able to hold the baby's hand before anyone else got to. Neato.

I babbled at the anesthesiologist about giving me lots and lots of extra doses. I started to shake pretty hard as they wheeled me into the OR and lifted me on to the table. I asked the anesthesiologist if most of his patients were this wimpy. No, was his wry answer.

A cesarean is a weird thing. I could feel the pressure and sensation of the doctor cutting through the layers, but I, obviously, didn't feel the actual pain of the incision. I kept asking Dan (who was at my side by my head) if he could see the baby yet.

Finally I felt a lot of pressure and then Dan said "there he is!" and I heard crying.

At this point I lost it. I started sobbing uncontrollably. The weight and sheer emotion of the night's events finally caught up with me and I just couldn't control my tears. I sobbed and Dan beamed and I laid there and heard the first cries of my sweet new son. Dan kept coming back to me and telling me what he was seeing. He brought me over a picture of our baby while they cleaned him up and started stitching me closed. I cried through it all like a wimp but I didn't care. I was so tired, but all I wanted to do was see my baby. Dan told me he was healthy and strong.

So here are the stats: Grant Samuel Garfield (Sam or Sammy he shall be called) was born at 2:01am December 30th weighing in at 7.4 lbs and 19 inches long. He was/is beautiful. They had to take him to the nursery while they cleaned me up but they brought him over to me and let me see him. I kissed his head over and over again and told him I'd see him soon. It was amazing.

After Dan and the baby entourage left I suddenly felt so tired. I lay on the table while they stitched me up (which was surprisingly painful) and thought about all that had just happened. My son, my Sammy, was here. I dozed and waited for them to finish up.

The days since Sammy's birth have been surreal. I can't believe he's here already, but I can't imagine him not being with us. My stay in the hospital was mostly pleasant. Sammy was so peaceful. Even now, while I write this, he's just sleeping away next to me. My incision is healing up very nicely and to me honest, if I had to say it, so far this recovery has been easier than Eli's birth. I'm on lots of meds so we'll see what I feel like when I go off those but other than a bit of pain in my scar and lots and lots of fatigue I'm feeling pretty decent. AND...nursing is going very well. He's a great latcher and I seem to be producing more and more milk every day.

So that's that story. I know it was long...but I wanted to try to get in every detail in case I forgot things later. Now I just get to enjoy life with two amazing sons. Eli has seemed to take everything in stride. He's a little more wound up than usual but I think he will be an amazing older brother.

Head over to our family blog HERE in the next few days to see lots and lots of pictures of Sammy. For now, here's one of my favorites I took in the hospital.

Sam's Birth Part 1

***I wrote this at the hospital on Saturday night but fell asleep and 3 days went by before I got back to it. I figured I'd better post this now and try to get the rest finished tonight.

The last few days have been surreal. So seeing as I'm pretty much bed bound and bored out of my mind here at the hospital I thought I'd seize this soon-to-be-extinct free time and try to put down the events that have just transpired in words. I'll try to make things non-rambling but I make no promises because the pain meds are kicking in right about....now.

Where to start? Let's see....Thursday morning I had my 37 weeks appointment. I thought it would be nothing but the usual heart beat check, tummy measuring, obligatory questions, and then out the door. As my midwife was measuring me, she noticed the heartbeat was very faint when she put the monitor on the lower part of my stomach. She told me this could mean baby was breech. She did manual exam of my cervix and found that a-I was dialated to a 2.5 and b-that she couldn't feel a head near the cervix. A quick check with an ultrasound machine revealed that baby was indeed breech, head sitting just under my ribs.

I was pretty worried, but she told me there were some things I could do between now and my next appoint to help move baby around. She said we'd wait a week to do anything and then check things again at my 38 week appointment. At that point, if he hadn't moved, they may have to change me over to the OBs at the clinic and talk about "options", which I knew meant cesarean.

I went home feeling a little worried but reassured that baby had a week at least to turn and that I had some time to get him to move. I was pretty surprised that I was dialated, seeing as with Eli I was induced at 41 weeks with almost no diatation. I spent the day doing normal things, cleaning the house, scrubbing the fridge, doing loads and loads of laundry; just usual household stuff. I called the midwives around 3pm with a few questions about my morning's appointment, mostly about breech-y things and felt tired but normal.

I did notice around then that I'd been having tons of Braxton-Hicks contractions all day, but didn't really note it because I'd been having these for months. I made dinner around 5 and we sat down as a little family to eat and talk about the day. I felt exhausted after we ate so Dan offered to run some errands with Eli while I stayed home and rested. In typical mom fashion I started cleaning up the kitchen as soon as he left. At this point I finally noticed that my BH contractions had been coming on pretty regularly. I remember reading somewhere that if they got regular or stronger, even if they didn't hurt, it could mean something was up.

I decided to just ring up the midwife on call and see what she said. I felt silly doing it...I knew nothing was going on. I spent a few minutes sitting and counting the contractions...3 in ten minutes. I called and Jen Krebs, the midwive on call, answered. I apologized for calling about Braxton Hicks but told her what was going on. She sounded more concerned that I thought she would and told me to lay down and not move for 30 minutes. She said I needed to track my BH contractions and call her as soon as 30 minutes were up. I thought it seemed a little silly, seeing as I still hadn't felt a single labor pain, but I said I would.

So I downloaded a contraction monitoring app (so cutting edge) and started timing them. After about 5 contractions I looked at the numbers and suddenly my brain hurt. Each lasted almost a minute to the second and were coming every 4-5 minutes. And they were coming like clockwork...almost 8 that I could count so far. I still wasn't feeling any of them so I was sure nothing was going on...but a little alarm went off in my head that somehow this pattern meant something.

I called Jen back and told her the numbers. She said I needed to go to the hospital right away. I was stunned. I asked if I could shower and wait to help put Eli to bed. She said no, because the baby was breech they really needed to check me out at the hospital in case I was in labor. I hung up and looked around the house. Things were a mess. No crib or bassinette was set up, we had no newborn diapers around, all the things I had been putting off were suddenly at the front of my brain. I couldn't go to the hospital, because babies are born at hospitals, and I was NOT ready to have a baby that soon.

At this point it occurred to me that Dan was not aware anything was going on. When he left I was just a tired, haggered looking pregnant woman but I hadn't said anything about contractions or whatnot.

***SAMMY'S BIRTH PART 2***

Take Two

I've been pondering a bit lately on the differences between my pregnancy with Eli and my current "with child" situation. Either I've forgotten a lot of the trials and travails with my first go-around or this time is a bit more challenging. With Eli I was so drunk on the excitement of finally becoming a mom that I think I overlooked a lot of the pains and whatnot of being preggers. This time I am, of course, barely able to contain my anticipation at meeting our new little buddy but I'm also more aware of the nastiness that follows me around constantly.

With Eli I followed everything to the book; no caffeine, lots of sleep and exercise, never lifted more than the weight of a few clothes or dishes and all that. This time I've had a diet coke or two once a week at least, have been sleeping terribly for about a month now, only exercise when it involves chasing a two year old around the house, and I lift at least 32 pounds a number of times a day. So much for caution and being in a "delicate state". It's not possible with another kid to run after.

Also, this time around I'm visiting the midwives at my clinic instead of the doctors. So far I like it. Haven't actually given birth so we'll see what happens different with this one but I like being able to talk to a woman about my bodily discomforts. None so far have given me a lecture about wanting an epidural either so it appears my previously held notions about midwives are thusly false.

Most of all I've noticed the pain this time around much more. About a month ago my hips started aching, and now they hurt 24/7. When I walk I look like a cowboy, all bow-legged and hobbly. Getting out of bed in the morning is a chore, not because of fatigue (although that is a factor) but because my body takes about five minutes to limber up enough to let me take my first step of the day.

In the end though, I am enjoying life. Every time I feel bb moves, or kick, or pummel my ribs, I just think about how much I want to meet him and want Eli to meet him. I told Dan that while I am excited to see our little son, what I am mostly looking forward to is seeing Eli meet his brother for the first time.

The miracle of life is just that...truly a miracle...because I'll tell you what, for anything else I would have hit the escape button on a long time a go.

A Hot Dog With a Side of Guilt

It's been a fun few days. By fun I mean horrifying. Traumatizing. A sort of "standing naked on the top of the Chrysler Building with a machine gun" few days. Over dramatic? I think...so.

Eli's been waging a war on sleepy time. It's been...unpleasant. Finally today I had to do something so I switched out the locks on his bedroom and locked his door from the outside. It was brutal. 2 hours of struggle...but finally success and he fell asleep for about an hour.

After he fell asleep I just sat on the couch and bawled. It dawned on me that I was so upset because I felt this crushing amount of guilt for having to lock my child in his room to get him to sleep. (It could have also been related to intense sleep deprivation and pregnancy). As I reflect on my reaction, I realize that as a mom I am a constant ball of parent-related guilt.

Even when I try to chill out I still think about how I'm screwing up my poor child's life. Is he watching too much tv? Is he eating too much sugar? Do we do enough educational activities together? When was the last time I clipped his nails? Dusted his crib? Checked the air filter on the furnace to make sure he's not breathing in those little cartoon character dust mites?

I think I'm a pretty average person. I try not to jump on crazy bandwagons or do any nutso "fad parenting" methods. But even with how normal I strive to be somehow mothering guilt occasionally tries to eat me alive. I guess it's a standard part of having kids. I guess this awful feeling that I'm somehow slowly ruining my son's life will never end. I guess that the fact that I dedicate my love and heart to two feet of absolute wonderful means that I've opened myself up to a whole host of emotional trauma. Oh well. In the end I love being a mom even more than I loved working at that hot dog stand. I never worked at a hot dog stand. But I couldn't think of anything that even comes close to comparison with motherhood.

Dog Etiquette

We have a dog, for the lucky two of you who may not know. Come this March Indi will have survived 4 years in our house (by the grace of something). Dan and I have worked harder with this dog to teach her some sort of sanity than I have worked on almost any other ongoing project in my life. She's made leaps and bounds from where she once was, she's still a lunatic, but we kinda love her. Her tenure in our house has come into questions a few times but...well...we never could find a new home for her for I think she's here to stay...for now (I like to keep my options open).

With all that said, I've learned a thing or two over the years about how other people react to dogs. Nowhere is this more apparent than in public places where kids are around. A few weeks ago I had Indi with me at the Farmer's Market in Provo and a little boy (about 4?) came running up to her and started pulling on her ears and trying to give her a hug. Indi was on a leash sitting right next to me. After a sec she snapped menacingly at the boy. No contact was made but it scared me to death. Apart from the trauma of having her bite an unknown kid, I wouldn't want to face the probable legal issues of such an occurrence.

Since then I have been very wary to take Indi out in public. A few days ago I decided this poor dog had to get out of the house so we've been walking to the park. I ALWAYS keep her on her leash at the park right by my side. I never leave her unattended and make sure I know what's happening with her at all times.

Today I was sitting on a bench while Eli played and Indi was laying right by my feet. A little girl came running up to us and started petting Indi and grabbing at her fur. I asked the little girl to please not touch my dog but she kept petting her. Indi is generally pretty good with kids and wasn't doing much but I didn't want to take any chances. I stood up and walked over to another bench. The little girl followed and would not leave us alone. I finally spotted her mother sitting on the grass watching all this happen. As I tried to fend off the kid I just got fed up and grabbed Eli and we headed home.

That got me to thinking. Dog owners have a responsibility to keep their dogs under control in public no doubt. BUT. The public has a keen responsibility to know how to interact with dogs they don't know. And parents most definitely have a responsibility to teach their kids how to treat a strange dog. So-here's my list of dog etiquette for parents with kids.

• Teach your kids to NEVER approach a leashed or unleashed dog unless they directly ask the dog owner for permission. NEVER.
• Have the child extend his or her hand to let the dog smell it. This is like a hand shake for dogs.
• Teach your kids the appropriate ways to handle a dog ...ie don't let them pull fur, tails, or ears, even if the dog owner says the dog is ok with it. It leads to bad habits and they may find a dog sometime that isn't as amiable.
• If a dog owner asks your child at any time to stop petting the dog or move away make sure they know to listen and act.
• Above all teach your kids to respect dogs and treat them with care and caution.

If a dog bites a kid in public is is, of course, the dog owner's responsibility, but having a child who is well trained around dogs makes things easier for everyone.

Milk of Human Smugness

Dear Midwife,

I understand you have to talk to many women every day about all sorts of things, and that your answers have become a bit rote. When I told you yesterday that I had a really hard time nursing my son and would like some good suggestions on how to make things easier for this next one, I didn't really need to ten minute thesis on how superior breast milk is to formula. I didn't need to hear for the umteenth time how many nan-nuero-super connectors breast milk has in it and how if a baby is able to get just a taste of that milky goodness he or she is destined for life long greatness.

I've already heard it all from the internet, friends, family, strangers, and my own inner guilt voice. I know I should have tried harder, as you implied, to nurse my son more diligently. I should have forced him to nurse even when he was screaming because he was hungry and getting nothing from my breastables. I should have forced myself to stay up longer at night to make sure I pumped every drip of milk out of my sleep deprived body I could find. I should never have started him on formula, never given him a bottle, and definitely never given up on nursing even when we were both so exhausted we spent every non-nursing minute crying.

Here's the real scoop. If a woman can't/isn't nursing her child chances are she's tried everything in her power to make an attempt first. I've heard of very few women who choose voluntarily to not breastfeed. For them I'm sure it was a very personal decision also and I'm sure their babies are fine. For me I was physically unable to produce enough nourishment for my child. With baby #2 I want to give it the ol' college try for sure but what I most definitely do not need are any more lectures on how superior breast milk is. I get it. We would never tell a mother with a kid in in a wheel chair, "Oh, walking is so much better than sitting around all day. You really should let your son get up and move around". So why all the guilt about nursing?

That is my rant.

Signed-

To Each His Own