This post is a catch all for all that's happened when we brought Dylan home. Like most moms, there are few moments when I have linear thinking, so this post might be all over the place, but I will do my best to report on them in chronological order.
Jaundice-free.
We came home from the hospital on a friday night, about 44 hours after Dylan's birth. I was a mess, and was very unsure about a lot of things. A few things at the top of that list were: how am I going to take care of this baby, how am I going to go to the bathroom, when am I going to recover from labor, etc. Since I had really limited mobility, we tried drawing a bath in Dylan's bathroom, since it had a lower tub. An hour into our return home, the bath water started leaking though the floor/ceiling onto the family room floor, seeping through our crown moulding. Nice. The scene would be me lying helpless in the tub, staring quizzically at Dylan, Dylan in his car seat by the toilet and Brian searching for a bucket in our garage. Painful feedings every 3 hours or so, and us going to Dylan's first doctor's appt on a saturday morning.
I wasn't prepared for Dylan to be sick. He was perfect and we had MADE it, So what do you mean he has to go to Lucille Packard? We got there and I lost it. It was the same NICU, the essence of Musubi was there, and everywhere you looked were small babies. Some were fine, some were fighting to stay relevant, some looked limp and exhausted. It was none of my business, but I couldn't help but look. And then there was Dylan, so little in his tanning bed, wearing his shades to protect his eyes. And then there was me, stressed, trying to pump as much as possible so I could feed my little starving, savage son. It was this strange, surreal time period when we were home, and it was like what the F happened? We had a baby, but he's not home? We still slept uneasily, the house was too quiet, and we were so restless. Fortunately the hospital was so close, so we were able to visit often.
Brian went back to work that monday, and mom and dad came with me to bring Dylan back home. He was doing well, sucking down formula, and apparently was given a pacifier too.
6 Weeks.
There is something magical about the 6 week threshold, when things start clicking into place. This is also strongly correlated to Dylan giving us nice 6 hour stretches of sleep at night. YES, that's right. I would feed him some time between 11-12 and he would nurse for about an hour and then wake up some time between 6-7am. Now, I'm very sensitive to parents bragging about their kids, and I'm not saying that he's extraordinarily mature, with amazing physical prowess and off-the-charts emotional IQ...but I am saying that I hit the jackpot with a baby who sleeps through the night, and for the most part still does at week 13. In the past 7 weeks, he's woken up once at 3am. SO yes, I am a big winner, First, hitting the jackpot with my husband and Second, having a baby who has half of his genes.
And have we come a long way with nursing. Now no one told me how difficult it would be, and I watched enough of the "breast is best" propaganda at CPMC to believe some of their gospel, so I forced my nipples to endure pain that was more excruciating than labor. Where is the anesthesiologist for nursing? I believe I just discovered an entirely new sector in healthcare. I will never forget waking up in the hospital with my hospital gown stuck to my left nipple, which had bled through my gown, onto the bed sheet. I remembering whimpering to several lactation consultants and writhing in pain every time Dylan would latch on. When a friend said that it gets easier, and that it takes 4-6 weeks for it to get better, I didn't think that my nips would survive. I am convinced that Dylan has chomped off my old nipples and my version 2.0 ones are better prepared to deal with the elements. It's interesting that your boobs have a mind of their own, and they leak when they hear your baby crying (did not know about that!) Which is a good thing, since for the first 6 weeks, you walk around with half a brain anyways, so with your boob brains, you get pretty close to your previous capacity. And you realize that your brain is now replaced with blobs of milk-filled fat, which is sometimes how i feel when dealing with such difficult decisions like "should I wash the dishes, get the mail, or reheat my lunch for the 3rd time."
And with the nursing, comes the pooping and the peeing. My friends who have little girls have no idea what I'm talking about. They have peaceful, neat diaper changes. I gawk with envy as they calmly change their baby in their bassinet. I can't even imagine. With Dylan, it's like an extreme sport. You just have to hold your breath, cross your fingers, and hope you survive. By week 6, you kind of get the hang of it. You learn to put the new diaper underneath the old diaper - which has a 50% chance of getting soiled during the diaper change, you figure out that the ruffles need to be out and untucked, away from his body, and that there's usually a trilogy with his poops (sharts don't count). You get less anal with pee (like usage of words?), since it's sterile, and you remind yourself that you need to do something else to save the environment, since your household now generates so much more waste...
Hello World
Weeks 9 and 10 are major. That's when Dylan started smiling and talking. He babbles and coos with incredible fluency and he smiles with such happiness that my heart just aches when I think about how hard life is...and how fiercely protective I am of his innocence. I watch him track objects in our world, and how he bats at his toys on his play mat with wonder. He's developing and growing so quickly, faster than what I'm prepared for.
Not a fan of tummy time, he rolled over yesterday, semi-assisted at 13 weeks. We'll need to practice our technique with a swaddle blanket. Another big milestone coming soon, to a flat surface near you.
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