All You Who Hope: December 2010

Friday, December 31, 2010

Thankful...

...For every single one of your unbelievably helpful, kind, generous, moving and heaven-sent comments and emails. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I think I cried every time I read one in the first few days after writing my last post and they, along with your prayers, lifted me up during a very difficult time. What you shared with me, your advice, your personal stories, your struggles... words cannot describe how much it helped.

...For my Lukie's incredible improvement this past week. I took him to the doctor last week and the pediatrician agreed with me that it was probably a dairy allergy. The doctor wanted me to try a soy formula, but I convinced him to let me continue breastfeeding and try giving up dairy first, and ever since I have he has been a different baby. He's still gassy and may have reflux, but he doesn't feed constantly and he is back to sleeping in 4-6 hour shifts at night. It's wonderful for him and me. My favorite part, besides the sleep, is seeing my baby awake and happy.

...For my family's help this past week. What a difference an extra set of hands makes. From entertaining Clara, to settling Luke down, to letting me nap, it's been a wonderful break.

...For my husband, who's been a rock during these first five weeks of having "twiblings" (my new favorite word). The poor guy is sick right now (as is Clara), so please say a prayer if you get a chance.

...For the miracle that changed my life forever, which all began (from my perspective) one year ago today. For a blogger who thought of me and became forever part of our family's story. For the many bloggers, friends, family and strangers who helped make it happen financially. And for a very special NICU nurse who gave a little three-pound baby girl the love she so desperately needed before I ever could.

...For my dearest Clara. It's hard to believe that one year ago tonight you didn't even have a name and yet now, as we cuddle in bed as I type this, you are the love of my life.

...For my sweet baby Luke, who shocked us all earlier this year. We all love you so much. And sometimes I still can't believe you're here!

...For a year in which our blessings were beyond comprehension. One year ago I had no babies, or any hope of having any any time soon (or so I thought). Now I have two. In the five-and-half years I suffered with infertility I never dreamed big enough to imagine a scenario like this. His ways are always so much better than our own.

...And for God, who makes all things possible.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Overwhelmed

First, thank you all so much for your comments on my last post. They helped me more than you know, and hopefully they helped others who may be going through the same thing as well. You seriously made me feel much less crazy!

While things have gotten much better regarding the baby blues, but things have gotten much worse overall.

I only have a couple minutes to blog as I should be taking this opportunity to sleep, but I will just say that I while I knew things would be tough, I didn't know it'd be this tough.

Luke's feeding constantly. Constantly. As soon as he finishes, I put him down and he screams. Nothing stops him from screaming except for feeding. And then he screams as soon as he's done (with the exception of a couple times a day, like right now). Around week two he was sleeping great at night. I even was setting an alarm to wake him up to eat. But that all changed last week and now he's awake all night.

I'm barely sleeping, eating or drinking. Ryan makes me eat a couple times a day and I feel like I'm letting everyone down every time I have to report how little water I've had.

I know a lack of food, water and sleep doesn't help my milk supply. I decided to see a lactation consultant today for a few reasons (he was also barely at his birth weight at three weeks) and she confirmed that my supply could be better. She also thinks my suspicions may be right that Luke has a milk allergy. Just like I expected, she suggested I give up dairy.

She also wants me to pump after each feeding and give him an ounce (the amount I'm able to pump) in a bottle after he breastfeeds. Ya, I tried that today and let's just say nursing, bottle feeding and pumping (and all the cleaning that's involved) doesn't work when there's a screaming one-year-old you're supposed to be taking care of. I'm going to hold off on pumping until we're at my parents' next week, since I'll have lots of help there.

My heart breaks all day long for both my babies. Luke, because he's so uncomfortable, crying all the time. And Clara because she's really getting short changed right now. She wants me to hold her, to play with her, to read to her, and I can't. You just can't do those things while nursing. And I'm nursing all day long. So she sits in her play pen. She cries, even screams, at times, but overall is remarkably well at amusing herself. She is truly an amazing child. I love her so much. (One day soon I need to write an update about her - she is saying so many words now and is just hysterical. Honestly, her comic relief right now is the only thing keeping me sane.)

I break down all day long. I am overwhelmed, to say the least, and often paralyzed with anxiety.

I almost forgot about the anxiety.

Having a newborn isn't for the faint of heart. We thought five-week-old Clara was basically a newborn, for all intents and purposes, when we got her. She was only five pounds, after all. But oh, how different the two experiences are.

I find that I am constantly scared something is wrong with Luke. I cry about it all the time. I don't know how to shake the worry. I know it must be my hormones, but what good does knowing that do? I still let it get the best of me.

I'm also so scared that Clara is going to hate me. That she's going to look back when she's older and realize we had to cancel her first birthday party because her brother was being born; that she didn't get her picture with santa because her mom couldn't make it out of the house in between feedings.

The anxiety is only made worse by my lack of sleep. I feel like I'm seriously losing my mind at times. I'm like a walking zombie. We both are. God bless Ryan, he is doing everything at this point except nursing Luke. And he'd do that if he could.

I'm praying, but it's more like quick desperate prayers than anything else. I don't have time for anything else, but I do find myself saying Hail Mary's over and over at extremely difficult moments. That's happening a lot lately.

Well, I've taken more time than I should have. I love my babies SO much and I'm in constant awe of God's abundant blessings in our life. I just pray that I get better at this and can be a better mother for the two miracles he has entrusted us with.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Thoughts on my delivery

I think I have written about a dozen posts in my head since Luke was born, yet obviously I haven't actually typed any of them up and published them. There is so much I want to say, from the birth story to how the first two weeks have gone to how Clara is handling everything, yet there has just been no time. Oddly, despite it being our first day without my parents here helping, I seemed to have found a few moments to blog this evening.

I'll get to the birth story another time, but I will say that I had a c-section. Maybe some of you could tell from the picture I posted where Ryan is in scrubs (I'm assuming fathers don't have to wear scrubs for vaginal deliveries, but then again, I guess I wouldn't know).

Those posts I wrote out in my head and never published mostly had to do with a roller coaster of emotions I experienced about the c-section. To my surprise, in the days after coming home, I found myself unable to think about the c-section without tearing up. I was depressed, and cried a lot. I did think about reaching out to the blog world for help, but just never found the time. I'm going try to explain what I'm talking about, but I can't promise it's going to make much sense!

I do want to point out first, though, that any negative thoughts I had have nothing to do with the fact that I had to have the section; I feel confident in the advice of my doctor, I trust her, and I know she moved to a section for the safety of my baby and me (I hope I wouldn't have stayed with a doctor for 39 weeks who I didn't have complete trust in). I was induced for medical reasons (gestational hypertension, which did not reverse with bed rest), I didn't react well to the pitocin (my contractions were much too strong on even the lowest dose and they had to turn it off completely a number of times), and the baby wasn't reacting well to my contractions. His heart rate was too steady (instead of moving up and down which would have showed healthy activity) and even dipped dangerously low once (a very scary couple of minutes, I might add). Plus there was my ever-rising blood pressure and my failure to dilate (despite being fully effaced and my water breaking on its own, two things that served to unnecessarily get my hopes up).

Even though I sobbed when my very sweet doctor sat by my bed side and had "the c-section talk" with me at nearly 12 hours into labor, I wasn't crying because I felt I was being wronged by the medical community. No, I sobbed because, due to my body's reaction to labor, I had to give up the dream of a vaginal delivery and all that comes with it.

[*Disclaimer* -Let me say here that I know - believe me, I know - how blessed I am that I conceived, carried my sweet baby to term and delivered him, happy and healthy, into the world. I hope I don't come across here as ungrateful in any way. But, what I am about to describe are just the honest feelings I had following my section. I am posting about them here as a way to perhaps show someone else they're not alone in their sadness, as well as perhaps receive some helpful comments from readers who have also been through it.]

Immediately following the section things were fine. It went smoothly (I'll share details when I write the birth story) and I was pleasantly surprised with the complete access and opportunities for bonding we were given with Luke after his birth, which included them bringing him to me seconds after he was born so I could kiss him first, and he didn't leave my side for the next hour and a half. (I should also add that bonding was never a concern of mine since I know how easy it was to bond with my daughter whom I didn't meet until she was five weeks old).

I felt great in the hospital too and didn't want to leave. I could really get used to nurses around the clock!

It wasn't until I got home and reality set in that I started to get sad. I think it was a combination of things - the pain pills (which really helped me but possibly contributed to some sadness when coming off of a dose), an incision that was gushing blood, feeling just plain sick and tired from major surgery, rising and falling post partum hormones, and not getting any sleep.

Whatever the reasons, I will say that my sadness centered around the feeling that I didn't "give birth" to Luke. I tried to think of another way to phrase it because I felt phony saying that. And that was a weird mind game I was playing with myself, because if I didn't give birth to him, then, well... what happened?

Somehow, I felt less of a mother because I had had a c-section. And let's keep in mind, this is me, the same woman who knew she was already a mother to Clara, despite not given birth to her at all!

Clearly I wasn't emotionally stable.

I also felt defensive of my section; I was afraid others would judge me, that perhaps I didn't fight hard enough for a vaginal delivery, or that people would feel sorry for me. But then I would try to remind myself that this was a medical issue, there was just no other way around it and there was no other safe option.

In general, I just wished I had dilated enough and had pushed Luke out.

(I feel the need for another disclaimer here - please, please know that I am not suddenly a fertile myrtle who is whining about the manner in which her baby was born. I am just sharing my honest emotions experienced in the days following Luke's birth.)

I was also very weepy in general - I cried every time I thought about how much I loved Luke, how terrible I felt that I couldn't care for Clara, or how blessed I was to have two children. I cried...a lot.

From the little googling that I have done, it appears that the emotions I experienced after my section were normal. I have friends who have suffered from post partum depression and I don't think this is it. Praise the Lord, I am already feeling better so I'm guessing it was normal hormonal shifts following birth combined, in my own estimation, with post-c-section stress. Even today, our first day home alone as a family of four, I am handling things pretty well, if I do say so myself. And if there ever was a day to break down, this would be it!

So, I really hope you all don't think I'm crazy, or ungrateful. I was, honestly, shocked by the way I felt. I didn't know it was possible to be so completely over-the-moon happy and yet be sad about something as seemingly silly as the fact that I had to have surgery to birth Luke.

I think I started to turn a corner when I read something online that someone else going through it had written - that sometimes things happen that are out of our control, things that we wish had happened another way, and we can either dwell on them or pick ourselves up and move forward. I am choosing to move forward. I just had a beautiful baby, after all. That is not lost on me! And I know one year ago I would have killed to have had a baby, whether it would have been vaginally, via c-section or out of my belly button! Now that I am able to put things in perspective and the blues have worn off, I can see that a section is not the end of the world. Actually, it was just the opposite for little Lukie :)