Whose leg do I have to hump to get a referral around here?

I took Caroline in to the pediatrician yesterday to discuss her recent flare-up of le reflux. It did not go especially well. First I put her on the scale and discovered that she had lost three ounces since Friday. (In case you were unclear on this, the only person who's supposed to be losing weight around here is me.) I silently panicked until the doctor came in, but when I pointed it out to him, he said "oh, well, that isn't that much weight." I ignored this nonsense and told him about the airway issues she's been having. His response, in a nutshell: "Sometimes that happens with kids who have reflux."

I'll take "Bitches I'd Like to Slap" for 800, Alex.

Seriously, what in the hell? I tell you that my two-month-old, who has previously been hospitalized in intensive care for this very reason, cannot breathe and is losing weight and you think it's no big deal?! (This was a different doctor from the one we saw last week.) I fixed him with my Death Stare (which I have been perfecting in preparation for Caroline's first boyfriend) and told him I'd like a referral to a pediatric GI specialist, thanks very much. He gave it to me. The Death Stare cannot be denied.

So we will be going to a specialist, hopefully ASAP. I'm really not looking forward to the process-- I know they will be running lots of tests and she may even be admitted to the hospital for them-- but with any luck they will have some kind of solution.

Although if they ask me to switch to exclusively pumping or formula-feeding (so that we can thicken her feeds to help them stay down), I will flip my shit. I'll do whatever they ask, of course. But wouldn't that be ironic, after all our struggles to ditch the bottle? I'm just warning you guys, be prepared for a very whiny post if that is their solution. (You can skip it. I'd never know.)

So now we play the waiting game... hopefully it doesn't take too long to get an appointment. Fingers crossed!

Reflux: 1 billion. Me: zero.

Okay, this will teach me to brag about how well things are going! I think that's just how life goes with a baby, though-- you get the hang of one thing and another thing pops up.

Poor Caroline's reflux is totally out of control. If you remember, her reflux was the reason she was in the NICU for so long, because she got aspiration pneumonia from it. Well, it's been sort of up and down ever since, but lately I feel like it's taken over our lives! She spits up multiple times at every feeding. We go through at least 8 outfits per day. Often I can't even get her from my boob to my shoulder to burp her before she's spewed at least half an ounce all over herself, me, the couch, and the dog. Her medications (Prevacid and Zantac) have made her more comfortable with the spitting up-- it doesn't burn her little esophagus anymore-- but they don't reduce the sheer volume of it. I would be okay with it... I mean, I can do more laundry without a problem, and she seems comfortable... but she went in for her 2-month appointment on Friday and this is how it went:

Doctor: Is she nursing well?
Me: Yes, she nurses really well, but she does spit up a huge amount.
Doctor: Well, she's in the 5th percentile for weight, but that might just be her growth curve.
Me: ...I'm sorry, the what?
Doctor: The 5th percentile.
Me: WHATINTHEFUCKINGFUCK?!?!?!?

Okay, no, I didn't drop an F-bomb on the pediatrician. But I wanted to. Because AARRGHH!! I worked so hard to breastfeed exclusively, and don't get me wrong, I'm glad I do it-- but it's so hard not to feel like it's your fault when you're the sole source of nutrition and your child isn't gaining weight. (When she was born, she was somewhere around the 40th percentile. A drop to the 5th is no bueno.) The pediatrician didn't seem that concerned at the time since she had gained over a pound since her last visit, but then later in the day she called me back and interrupted my obsessing to tell me that she wanted Caroline back on weight checks to "make sure she's on the right track".

It's never what you expect it to be, you know? I used to be afraid of losing my supply or some other common problem, but my supply is super-awesome-- she just can't keep any of it down.

And as if that wasn't enough...

The very next morning, I was holding Caroline in bed and passed her to Tyler to reach for my Boppy. This was maybe 2 hours after a feeding. Suddenly, I heard Tyler say in a terrified voice "what's wrong with her??" I looked over and spit-up was coming out her nose and mouth and she had such a scared look in her eyes, and she wasn't breathing, and she had a bluish tinge around her lips. I FREAKED OUT. I flew out of bed and down the hall to get her booger sucker and suctioned her little nose and mouth like crazy until she was breathing again, while Tyler whacked her on the back.

There is nothing more terrifying than having your child not be able to breathe. I swear. Nothing can possibly compare to it. You can't breathe, you can barely see, you can't think, you feel like you're drowning. It seemed like it took hours to get her airway clear... I'm sure it was under a minute. I'm certified in infant CPR but that does not matter in that situation because you are too petrified to even remember your own name, let alone the sequence of CPR.

So now I am afraid to go to sleep because I'm scared that she will choke on spit-up and I'll wake up to the unthinkable. And of course Tyler is in Canada this week-- awesome. I'm taking her to the doctor today and demanding a referral to a pediatric GI specialist because clearly this reflux is not under control. I'm also contemplating demanding a monitor, even though I hated the monitor in the NICU. I suspect they will put her on one even if I don't ask, because airway issues are so serious.

I just want my little girl to be safe and feel better. Oh, and reflux? I hate you.

Life is good.

Having a newborn was hard in ways I never imagined. I don't just mean the NICU experience, either. You have this tiny, beautiful person that you somehow managed to create, and you are totally in awe of her, but at the same time you're completely enslaved to her. You get up a million times a night. You feel more tired than you've ever felt. Sometimes you are both completely covered in spit-up and you can't tell which one of you is crying louder. Really, you don't get a whole lot in return for all the things that you do, and it can feel pretty thankless at times. You're also completely terrified that you will somehow break your child, and you're convinced that half of what you're doing is totally wrong. You worry that you're somehow failing her, and it feels like an endless, exhausting parade of nursing and dirty diapers and crying and shushing and bouncing. (Sorry, just telling it like it is! I can't be the only one who thinks these things.)

But one day you are sitting up and feeding your baby at some obscenely early morning hour, and you realize that even though you are dead tired, this is a time when you have an excuse to do nothing but cuddle with your baby and stare at her perfect eyelashes and ears. Another day you go to pick baby up when she's done with her nap, and she gives you the biggest toothless grin you've ever seen, just because you are you, and she sees you standing there. Nursing finally becomes surprisingly easy, if you've chosen to do that. You start to get more sleep at night. She starts to stay awake more during the day, and seems like a real little person with a true personality, and you can really tell that she loves you unconditionally, whether you feel like you deserve it or not.

Can you tell things have changed around here? Caroline has been sleeping through the night consistently for about two weeks now. Breastfeeding is suddenly kind of effortless. She seems healthy and happy and is doing all sorts of new and fun things, like actually playing with her toys, flipping herself onto her back on her playmat, smiling at us, and cooing when we talk to her. We've established somewhat of a routine, and we do fun things like walk to the park down the street to look at the geese and turtles.

Overall, things are looking up. She is such a joy to spend time with, and I no longer have guilty feelings about "giving up my whole life" to stay home with her. She IS my whole life, for now, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm 25!

It's my birthday today, and Caroline's gift to me has been a whole week of sleeping through the night!

It's strange to me that I'm married with a baby at 25... I didn't ever think I would be either at this point.

Well, I'm off to celebrate by snuggling my little one! Non-lame blog post (we hope ;) coming soon.

Meet Mirena, my new BFF

Well, yesterday I got my IUD! I was a little freaked out about getting it put in, because back when I was in undergrad I tried to get the Paragard and it hurt when they measured my uterus before insertion (my uterus was too small, so I didn't end up getting it at the time). But my Mirena insertion yesterday went just fine-- a little crampy and uncomfortable, but overall not bad at all. I guess once your cervix has been stretched open to the point that a small person can get through it, sticking a little plastic thing through is a piece of cake.

It is such a relief not to have to worry about another unplanned pregnancy for another 5 years. For the first time in my life I feel like I've found the perfect birth control option: it's long-term, minimally hormonal, safe for breastfeeding, low-maintenance, 99.9% effective (this is crucial... haha), and will make my periods lighter and less painful (like 40% of women stop getting their period at all after a few months!)... I'm starting to sound like a commercial here, but I seriously am in love with this little piece of plastic.

In fact, here's how my insertion appointment went:

My OB (looking at Caroline sleeping in her carseat): She's so good! Are you sure you don't want another one like her??

Me: HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! (deep breath) HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! No, seriously, hand that thing over.

Okay, maybe it didn't go exactly like that...

But honestly I'm not sure I will ever want another child, so the long-term-ness of the IUD really does appeal to me. I love Caroline more than I ever thought I would or could. But the NICU experience was really traumatic, and at my post-partum appointment my OB told me that even with hormone therapy, I'd have a 30% chance of delivering early again. And I'm sure I'd be more likely to have to stop working early once the contractions started up again. But mostly I just feel like my "mommy" urge has been satisfied with Caroline. I guess I would feel badly about not giving her a sibling, but overall I don't really know if I see another baby in our future. I know that for some moms, the love they feel for their first child makes them want another one that much more... but for me, it has made me feel reluctant to take away any attention from her by having another baby.

I know that Tyler wants at least one more (he's always said he wanted three; I always used to want two), so we might have some disagreement over this in the future.

But for now it doesn't really matter because regardless of what happens, we'd want to wait several years. And I realize that I might change my mind down the road when she gets older... and of course I might not have a choice in the matter, just like this time! However. These are my thoughts at the moment.

And it sure does feel good not to have to worry about repeating this whole experience. I wouldn't trade my Caroline for the world, but I won't be playing Russian roulette with my birth control again any time soon.

"Sleep when the baby sleeps."

This is the advice given to new moms by other moms whose babies are too old for them to remember what useless advice it is.

It sounds good in theory, right? You could be up all night nursing or whatever, so try to nap when the baby naps to get sleep in whenever you can. But in practice, the baby will only sleep in your arms so you have to nap sitting up, and/or the dog barks every few minutes and wakes you or the baby up, and/or the baby naps for a half hour at a time so by the time you fall asleep the baby is awake again. By the end of the day you haven't napped much at all, and you've still got the night ahead of you.

Caroline is a good baby, she really is. She sleeps through the night (7-8 consecutive hours) at least once a week, and rarely cries for no reason. But no matter how low-maintenance your baby is, you are still going to be Tired for the first few months. The kind of Tired where you feel like you have sand in your eyes, and where you almost run red lights accidentally. The kind of Tired where once you get a minute of free time you would choose a nap over ANYTHING else, including eating or sex. In fact, I've forgotten where I was going with this post because I am so Tired.

Today I am sick, though, and it's the first time I think I've ever been thrilled to be sick. Tyler stayed home to take care of Caroline and I am allowed to sleep as much as I want!! I've always been an 8-hour kind of girl so this is approximately the most amazing thing ever. I'm also planning to ask Tyler for a full weekend of as much sleep as I want for my 25th birthday, which is coming up on April 2!

I'm off to nap now... ZZZzzz....

How to make a grown woman cry

Tell her she has to throw out her entire freezer stash of breastmilk.

Here's the back story: Tyler had gone to Michigan for a few days to look at some fossils for his research. I was left alone with Caroline and, needless to say, was exhausted by the time he came back. I pumped and thawed a bunch of frozen breastmilk so that he could take over the night feedings for me so I could get some rest. Well, the thawed milk smelled terrible. It has this gross metallic smell that made me want to gag. I dumped it and thawed milk from a different day. Same thing. I threw it out in frustration and went to bed. (Luckily I did still get my rest because Caroline slept through the night, which she will do at random times. Actually, it seems like she only does it on Fridays. Hmm. But I digress.)

So this morning I went to ask my girls on the Nest what the dealio was. Turns out I probably have excess lipase in my milk, which breaks down the fats in it and makes it nasty. Which means that all my painstakingly-pumped-and-stored milk is no good. And I will have to dump it out. To fully express my feelings regarding this catastrophe, I'll need to recycle this photo:

So now I am sulking and delaying the dump because I worked hard to put away all that milk. That shiz is liquid gold, people!! It represents my freedom! Breastfeeding is really hard when you're tied to your baby for feedings every couple of hours... stored milk lets you get out of the house, or sleep a few hours in a row, or whatever other selfish things you want to do. Throwing it out is every breastfeeding mom's worst nightmare. I guess I only have about 25 ounces saved, but still.

From now on I'll have to scald my milk before freezing it, which isn't so bad, I guess. It's a little more work, but I'm sure I'll get used to it. At this point I'm just irritated that I have one more obstacle when it comes to breastfeeding, because it's really been nothing but an uphill battle for me so far, and it was just starting to get a little easier. Oh well. I really hope this is my last challenge! I've earned it, I've been a good little milk cow.