October 2010 Archives
Baby Pictures (Oct 11 2010)
As promised, many baby photos. Happy birthday, Dad!
Brand new baby, about one hour old. Looking pretty cheerful overall, if a bit tuckered out. She was not bruised, that's just a little leftover blood on her temple. The green fabric on the right is my very stylish hospital gown.
Will and I with the baby in the delivery room.
Dana with her Big Papi and Grammy Kay, in the recovery room later that evening.
Our little family, the next morning. I'm very puffy in these recovery photos because of all the IV fluids they had given me the day before. Also, note the teddy bear/balloon courtesy of Tyler and Daniel. Apparently when they purchased these from the hospital gift shop, they had to ask the checkout person to inflate the balloon.
One of the gorgeous photos that Nan took on Saturday morning for the birth announcement.
A little smile from baby Dana on Sunday morning, before we were discharged from the hospital.
Dana looking really tiny, in her carseat for the first time.
At home with Grandpapa Béla and Nana.
Back in the carseat, waiting for our appointment with the pediatrician.
Naptime.
Ditto.
Dana hanging out with her Papa, during a thunderstorm. This photo is actually a frame from a video, in which Dana has a loooong set of hiccups.
Notice the height between the baby's chin and my shoulder. She was holding her head up pretty steadily - not bad for 3 weeks old!
This was the day Auntie Olivia taught Dana to count to 20, en español.
Posted by Rebecca at 05:00 | Comments (0)
First Week at Home - The Hard Part (Oct 07 2010)
This section will probably be the hardest (and most therapeutic) to write -- it was definitely the hardest part to live through. I believe that the five or six days after giving birth were the worst I've ever felt, physically and emotionally.
I expected the physical discomfort, of course. Everyone says labor pains are terrible, and then you push out a baby, which is a lot of work and hurts like hell. I knew that stitches were a possibility, and as it turned out, they were necessary in my case. Add to that the fatigue of the last couple months of being pregnant (in the heat of summer) and working full-time, 9.5 hours of labor, and then several nights with very little sleep. Exhaustion hurts, all on its own. Lastly, since I had 600 mg of ibuprofen every 8 or so hours for pain relief during my stay at the hospital, my stomach was a wreck when I got home: in and out of the bathroom, and no real appetite. Other than the ibuprofen-induced upset stomach (which my mom and Will figured out for me), I had read about and expected all the other elements of physical discomfort.
On the other hand, I was not prepared for the emotional bulldozing that took place during this period. I had expected to be overjoyed and filled with love for this new baby. I thought I would probably worry about the baby and want to check on her a lot, since this is how I felt for most of the pregnancy. And I did feel those things intermittently, but I did not expect the flood of anxiety, inadequacy, and anguish which lasted those first six days.
The first two nights at home were the worst. Will and I stayed up with her, and we both got next to no sleep. I was so wound up and tuned in to the baby's tiniest noises, it was awful. That grunt could mean she's hungry - we have to feed her right now! She gurgled, is she choking on some spit-up? Is her diaper wet or dirty? Is she cold? Unhappy? I was so anxious to take good care of her, and the fact that I didn't know the answers made me feel like a terrible mother.
I struggled constantly with feelings of guilt during this time: for asking my parents to help; for making them spend so much time and money; for catching a few hours of sleep during the day when I, The Mother, should have been taking care of my baby. I also felt guilty a few days later, when Will started taking her at night so I could sleep well and not be a crazy person during the day. This is the lovely, selfless kind of man I am lucky enough to have as my husband.
Of course, when I told my parents how I felt, they reassured me that this is exactly what they wanted to be doing (grandparents love their grandbaby!) and there was no reason for me to feel bad about needing some help. It wasn't a problem or a burden. No one thought I was neglecting my daughter by taking a nap or having someone hold her while I ate dinner. Despite everyone's reassurances, these bad feelings persisted for almost a week postpartum.
Lastly, I felt guilty for "wasting time" and "not getting anything done". I think it speaks very clearly about my state of mind that I had a four-day-old newborn to take care of, nevertheless I was writing to-do lists: work on Dana's baby book or website, check in at work, go for a walk (to lose baby weight). Crazy!
For those five or six days, I was emotionally raw. I was wearing my heart on my sleeve. Or rather, my heart was less than a week old, under nine lbs, and wearing a purple onesie. I kept having obsessively anxious thoughts - for example, in the hospital, I could not stop worrying about how the cats would behave around the baby. I was afraid that they would get underfoot and someone carrying Dana would trip and fall, or that they would be hostile and scratch her, or that they would step on her head somehow. I expressed this concern to my dad, and when we got home, my parents established a "no cats near the baby" rule. I was very thankful for their attention to my concern, but as it turns out, the cats were just fine.
Another example of my emotional rawness: on day 3 or 4 after delivering, Will and I went for a short walk while my parents watched Dana. I was so wound up that I was unable to take a nap, so we thought a little exercise would help. It was a beautiful day out, warm but breezy. As we walked, I commented that we would be able to bring Dana out for a stroll by the lake, and how nice that would be. I was feeling really positive as we turned to head back to the apartment, when the wind turned very strong and gusty. Will joked, "It's a good thing we didn't bring Dana out here with us, she would have been blown away!" As I imagined little Dana, all bundled up in blankets, floating away like a balloon, I was aware of how ridiculous and silly the image was, but my eyes started to tear up and I got very emotional.
I'm writing at such length about these feelings in order to record their depth and intensity. There were several days where I felt utterly exhausted, cried openly in front of my parents, and wept by myself in the shower. So we did some research on postpartum depression. Basically what I was experiencing could only be considered "true" PPD if it lasted beyond a week or two, or if I had thoughts of harming someone. Since mine lasted "only" six horrible days, it is not considered PPD, but rather the Baby Blues. Excuse the vulgarity, but the Baby Blues is a bullshit term to describe the way I was feeling. It doesn't sound like something to be taken seriously. And maybe compared to full-fledged PPD, it's not that big a deal, but it was pretty bad for me.
I started feeling better the Thursday after giving birth. The turning point occurred when Will started taking care of Dana in the nursery at night, and I slept in our bedroom. As I mentioned earlier, he is a wonderful man and a fantastic husband and father. I'm sure this sacrifice on his part saved my sanity. Getting the 7 to 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep allowed my brain to reset. The hormones got back in sync, and now I feel better and can take care of the baby during the day.
It's been four weeks since the turning point. Four weeks of normal ups and downs, more ups than downs. Dana is a wonderful baby. She's gorgeous, bright, strong, and healthy. Last week at her one-month pediatrician appointment, she weighed 10 lbs, 3 oz. She has Will's eyelashes and feminine versions of his ears; my mouth, turned pinky toes, and strawberry birthmark; and a little button nose. Her umbilical cord stump fell off during the first week, and now she has a real bellybutton - an innie. She gets hiccups several times a day and likes to sleep on her side, like me.
She's been lifting her head since her second week and is getting steadier and more controlled as time goes by. She listens when you talk or read to her and turns her head and eyes to follow you if you move. She's starting to respond with facial expressions - getting pretty close to a real smile, I think. She likes her carseat or stroller and being in the Moby wrap (but only when in motion). She makes funny squeaking noises when she sleeps, and her farts sound (and smell) like an adult did them. She's pretty good in public: so far, she has been to the doctor's office, dinner out at sushi, Olivia's engagement party in Wheaton, and the grocery store. As long as she has a full tummy, she's basically a peach.
I still haven't started her baby book or website, but I did manage to keep up with my work emails, and Will and I went on a few walks while my parents watched Dana. However, it probably would have been healthier if the list had included taking a nap, or kissing and hugging the baby 1000 times (and husband at least once).
As for the cats, they mostly don't notice the baby. Lucius seems most aware of her as a person. I think Uli believes she is just a funny-looking pillow. Sometimes Po will lick her head. Mama doesn't interact directly with Dana, but is often nearby and quiet in a friendly way. Uli and Lucius do get underfoot sometimes, but they are also loud-mouths so you know when they're around. None of the cats has expressed any hostility toward the baby, though they may change their minds when she is in her terrible twos, yanking cat-tails.
Overall, the three of us are doing well. We are getting a good deal of support from our families and friends. I'm about halfway through my maternity leave - I'm tentatively scheduled to head back on November 8, though I may take two extra weeks, we'll see how it goes. I'll be posting photos in my next entry.
Posted by Rebecca at 02:56 | Comments (0)