Monthly Archives: September 2017

I Am A Character In A Greek Myth

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Taking care of a newborn calls to mind many a Greek or Roman mythology allusion. The number of rags and receiving blankets we tear through is obscene; the moment I put on clean sheets, and tunnel my way into clean, soft, bliss, they are christened with sprays of breast milk (my fault) or spit up (Little V’s fault). Sometimes, during a diaper change, Little V will pee and/or poo right as we are putting on the new diaper. On one particularly egregious occasion, I went through 4 diapers before I was able to finally take leave of the changing table. On another, after putting away 3 loads of laundry today, I realized another entire (almost full) load had accumulated in the meantime.

The time she spends feeding is not per se an unmanageable amount of time, but it seems that with the feeding, burping, feeding again, changing, burping again, then possibly changing again, a 40 minute process turns quickly into a two-hour ordeal. Or I finish the process, sit down for 10 minutes to start something, and it’s time to go again. I’m usually an extremely efficient person, and it’s difficult to suddenly realize 4 hours has passed, and not really be able to identify what I’ve accomplished, aside from feeding Little V. Today, I finished putting away 2 loads of laundry – by the way, I didn’t even do the laundry, my dad did – wrote a thank you note, cleaned the cat litter boxes, Googled symptoms of newborn constipation and acid reflux, and called an online boutique to bitch about the fact my order was placed 19 days ago and still has not been shipped. It’s now 1:45 p.m. Next up on the agenda include a call to lactation support, working out, and bath for baby. Let’s see how we fare.

This certainly harks back to the story of Sisyphus, who was doomed to roll a gigantic boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back to the bottom, repeatedly, for all of eternity. My mother once told me cleaning up after us was a Sisyphean task, except she was referring to me as a teenager, not a newborn, so I guess this will continue for many years.

I also frequently describe leaving the house with a newborn (to do practically anything) as a Herculean task. Even a quick trip to the grocery store has required a concerted effort. We’ve had to learn how to make her comfortable in the car seat, time the outings when she is sleeping, and make sure there’s an exit plan in case she starts crying or gets hungry while we’re out. I like to think we’ve actually done quite well. We usually take no more than 15 minutes getting everything together on our way out, which I think is an accomplishment in and of itself. Yet, the planning and supplies that go with any outing do feel a bit daunting.

I’ve also always said that reproduction is an act of narcissism, in that people’s self-love drives them to replicate themselves. I do look at Little V sometimes and think she bears quite a bit of similarity to me as a baby. On the other hand, I saw a picture of her the other day and hoped she had not inherited my asymmetrical eyelids and that it was merely the angle of the photo.

We used to receive extra credit in Latin class for discussing daily references to Greek or Roman mythology, and I’m pretty sure this post would have pleased Ms. Altieri.

Yet, despite my complaints and ridiculous comparisons to mythology, I am incredibly grateful to be able to have a child in my particular circumstances, with the aid of a wonderful husband, parents, friends, advanced medicine, and Google.

Three Weeks In…

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The hard part about all of this is, you think you notice a pattern, and then baby switches it up on you. She’ll sleep through diaper changes one day (awesome!), then scream through them the next (damn!). For a couple of days, she was nursing for about 20 minutes on each boob, then 2 days later was doing 10-minute spurts. She certainly is keeping us on our toes, and it’s a constant learning process to say the least.

I’ve started walking the hill regularly and working squats back into the exercise routine. I lost about 9 pounds after giving birth, and weighed about 132 pounds in the first couple days after returning home from the hospital. I’ve been eating normally and lost another 7 pounds over the next 3 weeks. 16 down, 14 more to go. Yet, all the weight loss in the world won’t do anything for my angry stretch marks, which are worse on my left side because Little V threw most of her weight on that side when I was pregnant. It’s amazing how they seemingly developed overnight. I had not a single stretch mark up to week 38; they seemingly appeared out of nowhere and then exploded with the fury of a thousand suns.

I started this post a week ago, and I write this now, I realize stretch marks were the least of my problems. Late last week, I developed mastitis, and had all kinds of horrible symptoms like terrible breast pain, body aches, chills, hot flashes, and a low-grade fever. I’ve never received a flu shot because I honestly cannot remember the last time I had the flu, and this experience confirmed my decisions. They say mastitis causes flu-like symptoms, and I felt weak and horrible in a way that felt quite unfamiliar. I was like oh shit, is this what the flu feels like? What the fuck. All I wanted to do was pound ibuprofen and sleep, but Little V wanted to feed nonstop from 8:00 p.m. to 1:00 a.m. that night and I definitely cried.

Fortunately, antibiotics acted quickly. I took the first dose at 9:00 p.m. and felt better by Saturday morning. Just in time for an old friend’s wedding reception/anniversary party. This is a friend with whom I’ve made trouble since sophomore year of college, and I had been looking forward to this celebration for some time. The event was held at Syrah, where I had spent many a drunken night, e.g. Halloween, New Years Eve, birthdays, and plenty of times for no particular reason, including one night during law school when I took too many tequila shots and fell asleep briefly in the adjoining parking lot at the end of the night.

In what seemed like a wonderful alignment of lucky stars and good teamwork, my dad was able to watch Little V at a friend’s hotel room only 2 minutes walking distance away from the party venue, Little V caught onto bottle feeding after having been introduced to it just 2 days prior, I felt much better, and we were able to make an appearance and celebrate. I fed her in our friend’s hotel room right before we left, and Husband left the reception an hour in to bottle feed her. All in all, it was a highly successful evening.

Little V’s Week 2

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We’ve gotten into a routine, and the best way to describe it is Little V eats and sleeps non-stop but not at the times and intervals I would prefer. She is conked out during the day, sleeping through vacuums, telly, music, chatter, car rides, etc., but becomes fussy when it’s actually bedtime.

She quickly regained her weight and surpassed her birth weight by the 2-week doctor’s visit. Eager to compensate for the previous B(-) in weight gain, she put in her most extreme efforts and literally gained a pound in a week. She was about 7 pounds when weighed at the first lactation group I attended, and was over 8 pounds when I returned to the group a week later. She literally developed a double chin in a matter of about 2 days, and her limbs quickly grew chunky. While the lactation consultant advised everyone babies should have at least 6 dirty diapers a day, Little V had twenty two on her busiest day this week. We went through multiple packages of diapers and baby wipes, and it’s been a bit baffling.

This week, we made it to the grocery store with her, and also met some friends and their 3-month old at a cafe to listen to some live music. Little V slept through all of it. We also attempted twice to go on a walk with the jogger. The first time, she screamed her head off again, but the second time was a success. Hopefully, it sticks.

She’s smiling more and more, and occasionally even laughs in her sleep. She also frequently has a concerned look on her face, as if she’s not quite sure what to make of this world.

Nightmares and Paranoia

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I think it’s universal that all parents at some point obsess over their newborn’s breathing in the middle of the night to make sure they are not dead. I only engaged in this behavior briefly the first couple of nights. However, Little V has a habit of wheezing sometimes in her sleep, which is yet another cause for paranoia. Is her swaddle too tight? Is she sick? Is enough oxygen getting to her brain? SIDS?! Aghhhhh…

Every time she does something weird or makes strange noises, I Google it. I’m less than two weeks into this parenting thing and I truly do not know how new parents ever survived without the internet, psychologically, or otherwise.

It turns out newborns have some pretty seemingly erratic breathing patterns that are totally normal, and there are just a handful of concerning indicators of respiratory distress to watch for. However, the other night, while sleeping, Little V started to exhibit what we thought was retraction, which led me to call the Pediatrician’s after-hours line.

The intake person who took the call asked whether Little V was “responsive” which was a confusing question. Newborns sleep like 18 hours a day. Little V sleeps through piano playing, loud noises, and even diaper changes changes – what level of “unresponsiveness” is really a problem?! The intake person tried to clarify the question by asking whether we were able to “keep her awake” which was just as confusing because we had not woken her up yet, much less “kept” her awake.

We poked Little V and dripped some water on her, which caused her to squirm and flail, though she did not open her eyes. I advised the intake individual Baby V was responding to external stimuli but not opening her eyes. At this point, the intake person said to call 911 if she could not be “kept awake.” I seriously panicked and we decided to get a bit more aggressive about waking her up. We tickled, poked, and pinched her until she made horrible faces, started bawling, and we felt relieved but also wretchedly guilty.

I did not have the vivid, horrible dreams some people have during pregnancy, but I’m making up for it now! I rarely remember my dreams, but in the last week I’ve had a few horrible paranoid dreams about miscarriage and birth defects. I dreamed I ran into my best friend from middle school, who recently gave birth to a baby with a beak instead of a mouth; he also had a foot growing out of the inside of its beak. The foot coming out of the mouth reminded me of the conjoined fetus nurse character from South Park though there was absolutely nothing comedic about the scenario when I was actually dreaming it.

I am a responsible person, but have virtually no experience with babies. I rarely held anyone else’s babies before I was pregnant because I was always afraid of dropping or hurting them and will not offer to hold any children unless specifically requested. My parents never made me change my brother’s diaper when he was a baby (so spoiled). Thus, I made it to the age of 32 with no working knowledge or practical skills in this department. Sometimes I wonder how it is that they let me walk out of a hospital with something as vulnerable as an infant. With all the classes I took during pregnancy, and some instruction from nurses and lactation consultants, I am catching up though, and I dare say it’s been a fun learning process so far.

LOL Vegan Gluten Free Ramen

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How about NOOOOO?

Sometimes when I’m bored, I actually bother to leaf through the coupons that come in the mail. Today, I encountered the coupon pictured above. This food is so preposterous I don’t even know what to say. Are they aware Japanese people invented udon and also MSG? How can you possibly open a legitimate udon noodle restaurant and simultaneously advertise for NO MSG and NO gluten? Give me a fucking break. I can already imagine how boring, flat, and ridiculous this food tastes. Stewing udon broth in vegetables will never, ever, ever, ever give it the same flavor or depth as broth stewed in meat. Period. Impossible. No.

The whole demonization of MSG is junk science anyway, probably stemming from racism against Asians. Oooh I ate Chinese food and got dizzy! Shut up. The billion Chinese people eating MSG regularly don’t seem to have your imaginary MSG allergy. How do you explain that? Your stupid sensitivities are made-up, just like many gluten and carb allergies. For most people, it’s not a fucking allergy. It’s an aversion. There’s a difference. You aren’t “allergic” just because you refuse to eat something based on your blind adherence to the latest retarded fad diet. Allergic is when you eat something and swell up/stop breathing and possibly die. Did you asphyxiate or die from eating MSG or gluten? No, so you are not allergic.

The coupon advertises it is “Voted the best Vegan BLT in California by PETA” which is completely meaningless. If PETA people don’t eat meat, they cannot possibly know how shitty vegan BLT’s or vegan ramen udon are. These are the same people who compare eating pork to the murder of Jewish people during the Holocaust, so their opinions when it comes to meat are hysterically biased. Also, this is to say nothing of the fact a place that serves both BLT’s and Udon noodles cannot possibly be a good restaurant. This is some seriously infuriating hipster bullshit.

Little V Meets the Kitties

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Our cats have been our babies for over 10 years now, and we were a bit concerned about what their reactions would be to a new mini member to the family. As soon as we arrived home from the hospital, we made efforts to pay attention to them and encourage them to be nearby.We predicted Fiona would be jealous and Ophelia would be anxious and depressed, but so far, things are much better than expected.

They both purposely avoided her initially. Neither would approach her and Ophelia seemed to abhor even the scent of her on my hands; she cringed and shrank from my attempts to pet her the first couple of days. The first day, Fiona worked up the courage to come close enough to sniff Little V’s head, but appeared to be repulsed by the scent, and quickly turned and ran. Eventually, habit got the better of Fiona. She wanted to continue her cuddling routines, so she tolerated the new presence, along with the occasional fussing and screaming at night and stayed curled up close unless the screaming grew too prolonged and loud (which didn’t happen too often). On the second or third night, curiosity set in and she actually tried to climb into Baby V’s cosleeper on 5 occasions. Although I doubt babies or cats are dumb enough such that accidental smothering is any significant risk, it seems a universal rule to prohibit cats from sleeping with babies, so we redirected Fiona’s attentions to be safe.

 

Ophelia has not taken to Baby V as well, which is unsurprising. She has not been as anxious or depressed as we feared, though she is still a bit distant. She hides under the bed more than usual, but of course will still emerge when treats are presented. In the past, my little glutton has actually been depressed enough to turn down treats, so I consider the present state a win. Sometimes, she even seems perfectly content sprawling out in the sun, and after a week, she no longer shuns pets (probably has gotten used to the smell of Little V). As is always the case with poor, sensitive, Ophelia, these things will take time. It looks like Fiona and Little V may eventually be good buddies though.

First 24 with Baby V

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The first 24 hours at the hospital in hindsight feel like a fast-forwarding DVD, in that I remember everything that happened, but it felt like it was on super speed.

You barely can handle the excitement from being responsible for a tiny human and the new information and activities just come flooding in without respite, including blood tests, hearing tests, breastfeeding advice, medication administrations, birth certificate paperwork, etc.; it’s a nonstop, intense learning experience. People complain about not being able to sleep because of disruptions from nurses coming in and out, but honestly, we were able to sleep through anything at that point, and when I couldn’t sleep it was from being too excited, not due to external stimuli.

The first thing I did after transferring from the labor suite to the recovery room was take a shower. I felt like I’d hiked Mount Whitney and a hot shower never felt so good. In her first 24 hours, Little V got a hepatitis vaccine, received a vitamin K shot, had a blood draw for various required screening, passed her hearing test, and had her first visit from a Pediatrician. Both sets of her grandparents also came to visit the lucky lady just 4 hours after she was born.

This was my first time staying in a hospital and it was interesting seeing nurses and care providers execute various processes in real life as opposed to reading about them at work. The nurses in Labor & Delivery were great with helping us learn to swaddle and get breastfeeding started. They also took Little V to the nursery for a couple of hours that night so we could get a smidgen of uninterrupted sleep after probably the only double all-nighter we’ve done.

We had the option of staying an extra night at the hospital, but things appeared to be relatively smooth and straightforward, and I really felt it would be more relaxing to be at home. Plus, the hospital food was pretty mediocre. After we felt we’d received enough instruction from nurses on breastfeeding and swaddling, we left the hospital early afternoon and returned home to finish off Labor Day weekend.