Easter

Matt and I don't really celebrate Easter. I'm an atheist and he's a Christian - one that is wary of organized religion and highly interested in the Kabbalah. In fact, he insists that I didn't call her dress for today her Easter dress. Either way, we put a fluffy dress on her and trekked her out to the park for her first Easter get together with Matt's family. There was food, and lots of laughter. I really love Matt's family, so it was a great day.

We roasted Peeps on the fire.

I was good and didn't eat one, but I did eat a Rice Crispy treat so maybe I wasn't so good. Also a cupcake. Decidedly, I was not good.

And Lorelai was adorable in her outfit, although the headband got ditched pretty quickly and as soon as we got home, I changed her into a onesie and leggings. But from what I remember, the most satisfying part of Easter was finally getting to take off that damn dress.

Blurry Nursery Pictures! Huzzah!

It occurs to me that I never really put up pictures of the finished nursery. It also occurs to me that it's time for a new pair of glasses because these pictures aren't exactly very sharp. WOMP WOMP.

The changing table corner

Crib corner

Toy/Book corner

The beginning of the book collection

Toys and board books

Self Worth and Progress

When I spoke to the lactation consultant in the hospital, I reported excruciating pain when pumping. At the time, my nipples were bruised from Lorelai and I learning how to latch properly, and she suggested I go from the 24 mm flanges to the 27. They did feel a bit better, and so I used them. I thought because I was rubbing the side with my right nipple that I needed a bigger flange. It turns out that the 27 were just too big and it wasn't my nipples rubbing the edge, but my areola being sucked into the flange. We got a pair of 30mm, and I've been using a 27 on the left side, but 30 on the right. And pumping has been painful, and I'm fairly certain that I'm still pulling areola in. 

Today on a whim, I tried the 24 again, and I got more milk than I have been getting on my first pump of the day. I got 20ml, wheras yesterday's first pump for the day was only 7ml. Yesterday through the entire day, I pumped 1 ounce, so I'm looking forward to seeing what happens today. It's less painful, and I didn't get a debilitating migraine when I pumped. I could be better hydrated, or it could have been that the headaches were induced by stress or a subneural connection with the pain I was feeling when pumping. 

Either way, not dealing with migraines every few hours has done wonders for the way I feel today. I was starting to break down last night, feeling incredibly depressed. The fact of the matter is that my sense of self worth is intrinsically tied to my progress with the pump and my supply of breastmilk. I have a lifetime of my body not responding correctly. From my childhood when I learned very early that I was lesser because I was fat, to my young adulthood when my painful response to sex made me feel even more broken, to the events of my pregnancy and induction, my body lets me down a lot. I've never wanted anything as desperately as I want to be able to nourish my child. I couldn't do it while she was in the womb, which is why she was brought out early. 

I don't think that Matt understands how detrimental this struggle has been to my mood and ability to stay afloat. I don't think he understands how awful I feel as a person. I'm not proud of the feelings that I've been having over the last few days. 

I'm feeling hopeful with the little progress I've seen with the 24mm flanges, and I'm hoping that by the end of the day, I'll have made 2 ounces. I'm upping my fenugreek dosage to 3600mg from 2400. Tonight we're going to the guys' house and I'll take my pump with me and borrow a bathroom or empty bedroom to pump in, and hopefully we will have good news by the end of the day.

Hurdles

I've been off my antidepressants for about a week now, I think. It's hard to tell because time moves so strangely these days. Take today, for instance. It feels like I've only been awake for a few hours, but the day is gone. I feel like I've gotten nothing done, no writing, no cleaning, nothing. Yet, my body keeps telling me that I'm overdoing things. The postpartum lochia keeps coming back, strong and bright, the pains are getting stronger, untouched by my prescription of high-dose Advil. I'm exhausted, and I'm feeling defeated.

It doesn't have anything to do with Lorelai, who is brilliant and who I am madly in love with. She's really quite perfect, even when she insists on staying awake all night. She's everything a 3 week old baby should be, which can be challenging sometimes but I am wonderfully happy with the challenges she brings.

How could I not be, watching her make faces into the mirror during Tummy Time, or at the lens of my camera?

She brings a dimension of joy to my days, however short they seem to be. No, the problem is absolutely not her, but me.

I'm having a hard time piecing together if these feelings stem from my system clearing out from the Prozac or if I could be being hit with postpartum depression, or if what I'm feeling is just a truthful look at myself as a new mother. I can't even really feel comfortable calling myself a mother. I don't feel like a mom. I mean, I have a kid, and I adore her and love her with all my heart, but calling myself "mom" just feels too strange. I hope that's common and my brain just needs a little time to normalize the new status.

The hardest thing is my breastmilk issues. I'm pumping as often as I can, which I feel isn't as often as I should be, I'm taking fenugreek, I'm trying to drink as much water as I can, eating oatmeal, but it all seems like it's for nothing. I don't know if it's because I did better at pumping more often today, but it felt like I was getting less and less with each pumping session. All in all, I got about an ounce and a half today. Yeah, it's an ounce and a half more than she'd get if I'd just given up, and I know that every little bit helps, but it's so frustrating. I can't just blame it on my milk not coming in anymore. It's very obviously milk, and not colostrum.

Oh boy oh boy, breaking news. Amanda's body still doesn't work right. Stop the presses, or not. I don't know why I expected anything differently. And it's harder still to keep the will to pump often up when I get awful migraines every time I pump or nurse. Really, every time I pump. She's stopped latching to nurse, just growing frustrated that my breasts aren't as easy to drink from as the bottle.

I could just really use something going right with me, but it never does. The only good thing to ever come from me is my daughter, and even then my body nearly killed her in it's incompetence to nourish her in the womb. I wish I could take it as a triumph that she's healthy and happy right now, but really I think it's just because she's strong, and amazing, and has in her all the potential to shake the world.

The Kraken

The Kraken sleeps for now. She's still a pretty sleepy little thing, but wakes to feed. Ha ha. Yesterday's pediatrician appointment put her weight at 5lbs, 9 ounces. The doctor was pleased to see she'd put on 9 ounces in a week.

One thing that's been coming up, hesitantly, as if the doctors don't want to put it out there, as if once it's said it can never be taken back, is a diagnosis of Failure to Thrive. I heard it first in the NICU, and once at the pediatrician's office. With the great weight gain of the last week, it's slipped back down into the darkness, and hopefully won't resurface. We don't go back until the 10th, for her 1 month check up.

For now my wee beastie will sleep and eat, and hopefully the darker days are behind us for good.

Cloth diapering

We're doing cloth diapers, and they make me not really lament too much the fact that the clothes that we have for her are larger. For instance, it makes it to where the butt of the clothes can fit around the cloth diapers, which are a little bulky on her frame. The newborn size prefolds aren't so bad, but the infant ones are kind of hilarious.

I love how she looks like a frog person when she's wearing just a cloth diaper.

We have a follow up for her weight with the pediatrician tomorrow. Last week she was just back at her birth weight of 5 pounds, so I'm hoping for some good growth this week.

Although I do have to say that her face alone looks like she's gaining more weight. Let's go, rolly poly baby!

2 weeks

Time flies when your sleep schedule looks like the pieces of a dish shattered across a kitchen floor. A few hours here and there, 10 minute micro-naps scattered randomly around, and one large piece that seems out of place among the smaller detritus. It works, though, and I'm feeling more and more human as the days go on. I do have a feeling that I might be more emotionally checked-out than I feel, from the way Jennifer and Matt keep asking me if anything's wrong. Ha ha.

Things are good. The kiddo is still doing well, eating lots and having more moments of non-food-driven alertness. I have my best friend here for another week. My baby sister is getting into town tonight for a few days, and there's a strong possibility that my c-section incision is infected. Oh wait, that last one doesn't belong on the good list. Let's just focus on the other things.

Huzzah Jennifer! It's been about seven years since I've seen my best friend in the flesh, and the last five days that she's been here have been fantastic. I loved that as soon as she got here, it was like old times again. I was able to comfortably just spend time with her, and we've had a lazy weekend just watching movies and playing games while we relaxed on my couch. I'm not sure I'll be able to let her go in another week! I guess I have to; keeping her from her husband just seems cruel.

Added to the wonderfulness of having Jen here, the last two weeks have shown me something really fantastic: how amazing my husband is.

Between work and school, he hasn't been able to be home as much as he'd like - or as much as I'd like for that matter. But when he is home, he's constantly spending time with Lorelai, cuddling her and talking to her. He reads to her, sings to her, and pitches in with feeding and diaper changes.

It was adorable when he asked me, tentativey and with hope, "Can I wear her?" referring to the mei tai carrier we got from Babyhawk.

I kind of can't help but fall even more in love with him seeing how caring of a father he is to our little girl. I always knew this about him - when we met, he was about to become a father for the first time as his ex was pregnant. Watching the pain he went through with that relationship as he got to see his daughter less and less was awful for me, and I know completely traumatizing for him. The other day before work he caught me in the hallway and gave me a hug, kissing my forehead before saying "Thank you." "For what?" I asked, confused.

"I know you'll never keep her from me."

And of course I won't. Our situation is worlds apart from his last relationship. We're a family, and I don't think that even if the future holds terrible things and we end up divorcing, I don't see a future in which he won't be there for Lorelai. Maybe it's because I know what it's like to have a family broken and one parent just disappear for a few years. Maybe it's just because I can't imagine Lorelai's life without her father, seeing the way he loves her and she's so comfortable in his arms the last two weeks. Either way, those two are inseparable. She already adores the attention she receives from her Dad, and he is already tied around her impossibly tiny little fingers.

I don't think I'd have it any other way. ♥