Welcome to Motherhood!

One month ago I officially became a mom. I'm a bonus mom to 2 great kids and I have had furry kids for 13 years but as much as I love all of my kids, there is nothing quite like the guilt, responsibility, and overwhelming love bestowed upon you with the title mother. My child has been in the hospital for the first month of her life, therefore the usual apprehension and worry of a new mother has been amplified. In general the nurses and physicians are amazing and give the best advice and have taken such great care of our little nugget. However, there are a few nurses who specialize in making you feel like you are going to ruin your child by the slightest mistake. Mistakes as treacherous as not putting close-up photos of our faces in her bassinet, rocking her in a chair at more than a 10 degree angle, and I handed her the wrong pacifier (why then would they give me an option?). Nurses, like Catholic mothers, specialize in making you feel bad with just a few words. They are subtle and explode in your mind later.

Yesterday after I had spent three hours holding, feeding, and staring at my adorable child I let the nurse know I was leaving and that she was waking up. I said I hated leaving her, especially since she was wide awake. The nurse said "well that is why you should have pictures for her that show your eyes". Did you know studies show that babies love eyes and respond well to them, especially when it is their parents? My response was not well why do you not have eyes printed on the blankets instead of tiny feet or mobiles of eyes to properly stimulate the children, even though the thought of them is really creepy. Instead I go stare at my child for 30  minutes with the widest eyes I can make. I feel very certain if someone could have seen my eyes they would have escorted me to the closest mental health facility or at least alerted Child Protective Services. I had to leave because I had things to do, but the nurses words kept echoing in my head. Maybe a more experienced mother could cope with constant mantra circulating in my head if you leave when your child is awake she will not be a full-functioning adult. I walked out with my head down and furious. Given that I had just overheard a doctor tell a mother to come to the unit to learn to take care of her child and I am there several times a day, I don't suck as a mother - yet.

Today I had the same nurse when I went into see my daughter. I had instant PTSD. Holy crap she's going to make me feel bad, I have a migraine and I am going to lose it. I haven't even done anything yet. I haven't wanted please anyone this much since my high school science teacher. Insecurity stinks and fortunately I am not often plagued with it but I was waiting for a complement on anything I did right. As I was leaving, she complemented my Tennessee Titans fleece. OK, I'll take it. Baby steps.

Tired...

 

The nugget is tired. She sleeps when she should be eating. I never thought I would be wary of a sleeping baby but then it never occurred to me that my child would not have an interest in eating. I figured she had the potential to be a sleeper since I am a legendary sleeper. I slept through a tornado my senior year of college, with my window open. I woke up and there was water all over my night table and my alarm clock had been flooded. I also really enjoy food, and I really like it when I do not have to do much to get it. So it should not surprise me that the nugget prefers to have her milk directly deposited into her stomach via a tube rather than actually work to drink it. Even though we are holding the bottle, she just can't be bothered. She has managed to drink almost half her bottle, a whole 3/4 an ounce before she gives out. She can manage the whole suck, swallow, breathe trick that is common to hear in the NICU but it is the energy involved in eating she hasn't mastered yet.

 

Patience, Patience, Patience.

 

I keep telling myself it will happen. She will get the hang of this. She wants to come home. However, this is the obstacle that is currently standing in the way of her going home, meeting her siblings, and significantly reducing the amount of time we spend with medical professionals- well, at least in any official capacity. She isn't listening to my pleas, my story telling skills need to improve apparently. I have tried to make our home sound magical and she is not buying it. I told her all about her siblings and how disappointed they are that they have not met her. Bribery clearly wont work on her but I tried anyway. I know she has good hearing, the audiologist has confirmed it.  

 

So we wait. As patiently as we can. She is chunking up nicely, she topped the scales last night at a mighty 4 lbs 4.6 ozs. She has grown almost 2 inches in the last three weeks and she is also growing into her very long, spider monkey-like limbs. She has a long body for someone so tiny. A lot of the preemie outfits are not long enough for her, although she could stuff another child in the body portion of the outfit. She has generally been a content, calm baby  As long as she is not agitated or messed with, a trait clearly inherited from her father. The easy going part is definitely from my gene pool.

 

 

Is this normal?

I have never asked "is this normal" as much as I have in the last month. I usually take pride in being unique, I like when people say I don't know many people like you. However when it comes to health, I have learned (the hard way) this is not a desired trait. Every time a doctor, nurse, physical therapist talks to me about my daughter, my first response is almost always is this normal? I feel like I am a broken record, I appreciate the health care professionals responding to me like I am not totally insane. I have learned not to google their responses to see if they are giving me the whole story. Instead I just ask STO, otherwise known as my husband. I do not know why I do this since he has an encyclopedic memory and he is prone to telling the really bad stuff that could happen first, I panic. Of course, he quickly recovers with it probably means nothing. Comforting, really comforting. In the last week, the nugget has had several tests ordered - a head ultrasound, hearing, and eye tests. Of course, upon hearing this I panic. The nurses reassure me that these are routine for preemies and it is positive step towards her being able to come home.

Wait, do the NICU nurses come home with us or are we expected to care for this tiny child by ourselves?

That question is of course rhetorical. Who wouldn't want to hang around and take care of all the nugget's needs without charging us? I would have liked to have been able to prepare for the arrival of my little one by cleaning, shopping, washing tiny clothes. But as I mentioned earlier, I'm not normal but this time it was not my choice. I wanted to have the nesting phase and the Mary Poppins room for my child. Even though I initially didn't want a shower, I warmed to the idea and couldn't wait to see all my family and friends and listen to them make fun of my huge belly and non-existent ankles. My shower was scheduled for January 5, my child was born on January 1. So instead of happily organizing the gifts lovingly given to the nugget, I was madly purchasing the baby necessities online while coming out of the haze of having surgery and no sleep. Who knew preemie clothes were so hard to find? I found enough to cover the short time she will actually be a preemie without having to wash clothes every few hours. STO left the hospital long enough to surprise me with a shower in a giant baby gift bag filled with many different baby items and a few things for me. He thought of everything, I was still sad I didn't get a shower but his thoughtfulness really made my day. Yes, he is too good to be true and I have no idea what I did to deserve him.

My in-laws, mother, and brother were here for during the 10 day hospital adventure and helped clean the house and put away the ridiculous amount of Christmas decorations I put up this year. Our great friends and adoptive parents also stayed with us, helping us celebrate an unconventional yet fesitive New Years' Eve in room 217. We are blessed with tremendous family support, actually they have all been back to help us out since they left after the nugget was born. STO's parents were able to stay for 2 weeks to drive me around, do amazing amounts of cleaning, and ensure I didn't lose my mind. My mom and brother took our big dogs so we could try to sleep at night while we have the opportunity.

So while we can, we are appreciating the world's safest, albeit most expensive babysitter and trying to gear ourselves up for the nightly feedings, mass amounts of diaper changing (we already know she takes great pride in this activity), etc. Although it has been nice to be able to recuperate without the responsibility of caring for a newborn, I can't wait until she is able to come home. Now she just needs to learn to eat. Seriously, I never knew how obsessed I would become over another person's eating habits. I suppose this is another perk of motherhood. I'm guessing bathroom habits are next.

Happy Anniversary!!!

My preface to this blog is my husband is a saint. He settles me down when I get insane, he surprises me all the time, and does more than his fair share of household chores. I really got the best end of this relationship and I am grateful every day for it. When I found out I was pregnant in late June, I was so excited I took 7 pregnancy tests. I have always been compulsive but when it came to creating another life, I have reached new heights. My poor husband has had to deal with me for 2 years today. The last 8 months have been especially taxing on him with weekly visits to the doctor and uncharacteristically emotional self. When I thought about my pregnancy, I never anticipated the drama that would unfold. I knew based on my "geriatric maternal age" at 35 I was going to have to endure more doctor visits. By the time I checked into the hospital on December 27, I had gone to the OB's 30 times, and I am not exaggerating. It got to the point that I asked if they wanted me to work there since I was there so often.

At the beginning of December I began to swell and not I ate too much salt kind, but the Tim Allen in a fat suit in The Santa Clause kind. My normally small ankles were non-existent, as were my wrists. When my eyes began to swell, I was beginning to wonder if I had permanently morphed into a pregnant creature that would never return to my previous state. Namely, being able to see without widening my eyes to accommodate for my shrinking visual field. My doctor told me I was probably going to develop toxemia based on my symptoms, another thing I never considered. What happened to the type of pregnancy that was written about and so glowing portrayed in movies? Those women who glowed, were able to do yoga, and shop and clean in preparation for their newborns. In my version of pregnancy, I was routinely miserable, my face broke out worse than when I was in high school, and I did not crave anything. Based on what I had envisioned, I was robbed. I told anyone who would listen I was going to write a book called "The Lies People Tell You About Pregnancy."

My OB and his family went on vacation to Antarctica the week my body decided it would fall apart. My fill-in OB was wonderful, even though she put me in the hospital. People kept telling me how lucky we were that our child was a girl because they were stronger and clearly my body had a checkout date mother nature had not intended. The multitude of physicians that checked on me during my stay in the hospital kept saying just make it to 32 weeks, and everything will be OK. Luckily, I was able to finish the steroid shot course so I could give her lungs a chance to mature.

Who knew I would have had a New Years' baby when she was due at the end of February?  I did not make it to 32 weeks, but close. Our little nugget was born at 31 weeks and 6 days. She was a whopping 3 lbs and 2 ozs and 15.75 inches. She slightly resembled a spider monkey with her long arms and legs. I never considered my body would evict my precious child before she was cooked. I guess this is my induction into motherhood, expect the unexpected. I really dislike becoming a cliche.

We are very fortunate. Our little nugget is 3 weeks old today, has finished her stay in the NICU, and is growing and learning to eat in the step down unit. She had a staph infection that required a 10-day stint with antibiotics. She is almost 4 lbs, has not needed any oxygen and has graduated to a big girl bassinet. I can't wait until she can get the tube out of her nose and take a proper picture of the world's most beautiful child- if I am going to become a cliche, I will absolutely believe my child is the most special and beautiful in the world.