Striking Out On an Adventure

A little over six years ago, Ed and I set out on an adventure that we knew would change our lives. And we were not wrong on this point. How much would it change our lives? Like all new parents, I suspect we underestimated this. For starters, I was sure breastfeeding would be a super breeze and I would be an awesome rock star at it. How hard could it be, right? As it turns out, it was almost as hard as finding parsnips in Paris (an allegedly impossible task), about as hard as getting a waiter to serve a cheese or wine that simply do not "go" with a meal (very difficult), and almost as hard as finding a vegetarian recipe that's not a dessert amongst a bunch of what look like super French recipes. After a while the breastfeeding got a lot easier, and by the time Helen came around I finally *got* it. And wow, what a relief that was!

Ed and I also underestimated the disruption a child can cause. We were certain we would be the couple that just brought their baby along everywhere they went, he would sleep whenever and wherever we wanted him to, and our life would continue largely unchanged. Only we got a non-sleeper the first time around, and getting him to sleep in his own room was hard enough, let alone in a house full of strangers and strange noises.

And while we didn't think our first vacation after having a child would be biking across the Loire Valley as we had done prior to my getting pregnant, I'm pretty sure we figured that we'd be back to traveling to more exotic places than the beach, ski mountains, or a lake at this point. But instead, we've received several very enticing home exchange offers, and we've yet to pull the trigger on any of them. Why? Because plane rides can be very long with children.

But I'm feeling like we've turned the corner recently. In the two not very easy flights it took to get from here to California a couple of months ago for our annual ski vacation, Connor and Helen held up find. Of course, they slept most of the second plane ride, but still - they made it, and so did Ed and I.

I don't know where we'll be going with the family this year, but I've already started bugging my sister about hitting an island for Thanksgiving this year. I'll be working on my parents in a couple of weeks when they stop in for a visit.

And just like all the annoyances about Paris that might be present, the adventure has been totally worth it!

Disclosure: This post was inspired by the From Left to Write book club reading selection  - Lunch in Paris, by Elizabeth Bard. It's a fantastic story that made me want to fall in love and see the world all over again - even with the inevitable bumps in the road. I received a free copy of the book as a member of the book club. I'll happily pass it along to anyone else who'd like it.

Could we be a little more polite, people?

I arrived early to Helen's appointment with the pediatric gastroenterologist because I did not want to risk being late and missing this appointment. When I arrived, I noticed two lines. The one on the right, which had about 8 people waiting in it, had a sign that said "primary care check-in". The sign on the left said "sub-speciality check-in". There were no people waiting in that line - but there was also no receptionist there.

I figured I might as well try the left-hand line, since it seemed to be where I belonged.

I went to the desk, and immediately, a receptionist that had been on the other side of the counter, working on something else, turned around and greeted me.

[Me] "I'm here to see Dr. R. Is this the right place?"
[Receptionist] "Yes. I presume this is Helen?"
[Me] "Yes."
[R] - woman pulls out folder sitting right in front of her with Helen's info in it - "She's so cute. You can wait in either waiting room and a nurse will call you in a few minutes."
[Mean lady in other line] "Excuse me, ma'am, but are you aware that it is not polite for you to go right up to the counter when there is a long line of people waiting?"
[Me] "Oh, I'm not waiting for primary care" (pointing to sign), "I'm here for a sub-specialty appointment" (pointing to other sign).
[Mean lady in other line with renewed nastiness in tone] "Well you could have asked. We didn't know that."
[Me] pause, staring at her trying to figure out what the heck was happening, finally saying "I think what you meant to say was 'sorry', in which case I will respond 'it's OK'". And I turned around and went to waiting area A.

Helen gets called almost instantly to get measured. The nurse - also named Elaine - and I chat for a bit. Then Helen and I go back to the waiting area. After playing for a few minutes, Helen gets a bit cranky and it's definitely time for her to be fed. So, I do what I always do in this situation, I feed her.

A few minutes later, Nurse Elaine shows up with a blanket. Mind you, I am holding a blanket on my lap. I obviously do not need a blanket. Nurse Elaine tells me I should cover up. I say "Sorry, it won't work, she doesn't like to have her head covered when she eats". Nurse Elaine "Well, you'll need to cover up because this is a pediatric clinic and not everyone here is used to seeing that."

Again, I pause, because the next thing out of my mouth probably would've been "this is a pediatric clinic" - but she clearly knows this. She must see the signs plastered all over reminding women that breastfeeding their baby is the best thing they can do for themselves AND their baby. I know nobody complained because nobody has left the room since I started feeding Helen.

Lucky for me, the very large loud-mouthed lady next to me who I have been chatting it up with ever since I started feeding Helen says to nurse Elaine "well they should be used to it", at which point I very lamely try and cover Helen up. Helen instantly kicks the blanket off, unlatches, and looks around - so now, rather than having an infant sitting in my lap nursing at least somewhat discretely, I have an infant looking all over wondering what the heck is going on and my obviously offensive boob hanging out. Awesome.

I had a moment where I felt like telling the nurse she should seriously reconsider having told me to cover up, and I almost used the bat phone to call my nursing friends to try and organize and impromptu nurse-in, whereby we would all just sit there nursing our babies just to annoy Nurse Elaine.

But...I needed to see Dr. R., so I didn't do any of this.

I have decided though, that if Helen is better by our follow-up in 1 month, I will let Dr. R. know that his nurse treated me wrongly and I will most certainly write the hospital. If she is not better, I will lamely wait until she is so that I don't risk having any personal issues with the Dr.

And for the record, I was not at some rinky-dink operation. I was at Georgetown University Hospital.

That's my girl...and hangin' in the kitchen

Helen is back to sleeping quite a bit - except for a couple of hours at night (which means she is just like her Aunt Linda, according to my dad). But tonight, she decided to play for a few hours after Connor was safely tucked in bed. And to start off that play, she opened her eyes, pumped her right fist in the air, and let loose some very noisy, loose poop. And most remarkably, that pooping was not accompanied by projectile spit-up, as it usually is. That is a miracle. And, it is with great pride that I can say that excitement over accomplishing this feat surely means Helen is going to fit in just fine in this family.


Ed posited earlier today that the reason Helen can spit-up so much and still gain weight is that she actually digests her food completely and then, rather than having it travel through her intestines, she just pukes it right up, but she's already gotten all the nutritional value from it. Thoughts, my fellow google MDs?

And the laughs keep coming. Just right now...do you know what funny thing you did just one moment ago Helen? After eating heartily, and then being held very still for at least 30 minutes - 30 minutes where neither your dad nor I risked doing anything so radical as sneezing, or heck, breathing heavily because that might encourage you to toss that entire meal, your dad changed your diaper and clothes (because even with all that holding still, you managed to unload a bit of that big dinner). And then he looked at you, and looked at me, and said "I think she's making some hunger signs, which I know doesn't make sense, but see what you think". So I looked at your dad as if he was crazy, because so far as I know you do not have a tapeworm, and I held you. And you looked up at my enormous breast, pursed your lips tightly together, and looked at me like you could think of nothing worse than swallowing one more mouthful of milk. At which point, your dad said "uh...maybe I was wrong about that".


After a rather tedious couple of hours this morning, Ed asked Connor if he needed a nap (two hours before he normally takes a nap) and Connor said he did. So, off Connor went to take a THREE HOUR nap, and after that he was in a much better mood. Note to Ed: please do not let our toddler stay up an extra hour when I am gone, even if you are just trying to prepare for daylight savings. It can make for a rather horrible morning. We went golfing, of course, because if my parents can be on the course in November, so can we! And then we came home and made pie dough for pot pies and made alphabet cookies with the left-overs. Connor had an enormous dinner, followed by several of these cookies. Turns out, he can reach up on the counter and pull down a tray full of cookies and serve himself. And I thought he was too short for that.

Elaine

I wasn't going to cry this time...

At Connor's first visit with his pediatrician, I left the office in tears. In fact, a little girl in the waiting room asked me why I was crying when my baby was not. I told her "because the baby is fine, and I am not". Basically, I was having a whole load of nursing troubles and my hormones were clearly out of whack. This time, though, it was going to be different.

I showered and put on lip gloss. I put on my post-maternity jeans (not the regular size, mind you, but only one size up) rather than wearing sweats. I put on my favorite nursing shirt and I thought I really looked like I had it all together. But I still walked out in tears.

You see, my pediatrician only works on Thursdays and Fridays - which is fine for routine care. But I have to see her partner if I need to bring one of my children in any other day. So on Monday, we went to see her partner. He was concerned about Helen's bilirubin levels (she's certainly on the yellow side) and sent us to the lab. But when he sent us there, he told us to be prepared for a hospital stay. He thought Helen was too yellow, she had lost too much weight since birth, and the only treatment option he offered us was hospitalizing Helen. There are no words that could possibly express how devastating putting my 3 day old daughter into the hospital would be.

Thankfully, my husband got his MD on google Monday afternoon while Connor napped and I was at that lab. Ed learned that there are blankets that can be used to treat jaundiced babies at home. When the news came in that Helen was a 17.9, the pediatrician told me we needed to hospitalize Helen. Ed had learned that while 17.9 is certainly high, it's not so dangerous that it can't be treated at home, so I told the pediatrician I wanted to talk to someone else before I agreed to hospitalize Helen. I called Ed with the news, and luckily Connor had just awakened from his nap so Ed and Connor came to pick me and Helen up. I called my midwife and she said she'd start looking for a blanket. There was apparently a run on "bili blankets" and the first one she could find would be available on Friday - which was too late for us. But...another midwife in the practice knew of another pediatrician who she thought had a blanket - but we'd have to be a client to get it. So, I called there to see if I could get a second opinion. I begged to see the doctor that afternoon, but it just wasn't possible. The best they could do would be Tuesday, late morning. But, I did get to talk to a nurse there and she knew a few more places to try and get a blanket from and she gave me their phone numbers. I passed these along to my midwife and a blanket was located. I called back to order it and learned that we'd need the pediatrician's order to get it. Crap.

The pediatrician was not in favor of any type of treatment other than the hospital, so Ed and I played hardball. And after a serious show-down, he ultimately agreed to give the order, in exchange for us promising to get Helen's bili levels tested this morning and coming back in to get her weighed again. This bought us the time we needed to get into the other office.

This morning, the numbers were worse - 19.5 - but that was to be expected because she should peak this morning. The numbers were actually better than the ped thought they would be, but he said we needed to hospitalize her. So, we told him we were getting a second opinion and the ped actually helped us get in a few hours earlier and was super nice about going over the case history with the doctor. The happy ending is that this doctor took another blood sample, the number was down to 18.3, and he's happy to manage her care at home.

So, at the end of probably the most stressful 24 hours of my life, my baby girl is at home and I have a new pediatrician.


She's eating formula for 24 hours because there is a chemical in breast milk that slows down the process of the liver breaking down excess red blood cells, so we don't want Helen to have any of that. I would've agreed to feed her just about anything to keep her out of the hospital. Connor totally loved helping feed Helen.


If we'd been in the hospital, Connor never could've tortured his sister with a bath tonight!


Helen wears this little light thing on her back which is connected to a machine about the size of a slide projector (and sounds about the same with a fan going) whenever she is not being bathed, so we won't be out and about town for a while. We are so grateful to this new pediatrician. Tomorrow, we're hoping for some lower numbers.

Elaine

Happy Three Month Birthday!

Dear Connor,

Today, you are three months old. That means you have been living outside of my body for 92 days - and I assure you I can hardly recall what it was like before you came. That's the beauty of learning how to get along with a minimum amount of sleep and having my heart find out how much it's possible to love someone. My brain functions at a minimum necessary level from the sleep deprivation and my emotional state is one that focuses on what a great person you are. The other day, I even heard myself telling a friend how childbirth was easy - at which point Ed looked at me like I had gone completely insane. I guess that's something else a mom's body does as soon as possible - forget the pain it takes to bring babies into the world. By the way - it's painful, though in my case is didn't last too long. And hey, I was at home surrounded by love.

You celebrated this 3 month milestone by abstaining from naps today, despite near heroic efforts on the part of your dad and me. Finally, I slept with you, but even then you only made it about an hour. At present, I'm attempting to nurse you to sleep which usually doesn't take that long, but who knows when you will finally drop tonight. I guess this is what everyone was talking about when they said that much of parenting was two steps forward, one step back. Hopefully tomorrow you will remember how you are a much happier baby when you sleep!

You've learned to make a new sound - it's a high pitched squeal (not associated with pleasure) that your dad told me about but I didn't actually believe until tonight. Wow - that'll get attention every time. Your dad also claims you winked at him today, but I'm not sure I believe this either. You have also started pooping on a daily basis - which is OK, but frankly your dad and I were getting used to and enjoying your 6 day cycle that you have been on since week 4 when Mims and Pappy came to visit and I couldn't believe that you didn't poop for a whole week. Both pediatricians in the practice we go to assured me this was normal, as does the Baby Handbook that Heather sent me. But still, once a week? But I guess all good things come to an end because you've pooped daily for 4 days now. Still better than the babies who poop after or during every feeding, but the 6 day pattern was great once I stopped worrying about it.

Today's photo shows those hands of yours. When you couldn't get your own fingers into your mouth earlier today, you pulled my thumb in. You seemed to enjoy sucking on it for a while. And hey, I thought it might inspire you to sleep so I didn't mind it. No such luck, but it was worth a try.

We tried the stroller out again today, but you still prefer to be carried. And, this doesn't seem too irrational to me since you're stuck looking at the sides of the stroller laying on your back until you're big enough to sit upright in it. Maybe next month...

You're drifting off to sleep now, so hopefully you'll sleep once I drop you in bed.

Love,
Mom