I have, in the past two days, had to take Oliver to the pediatrician for two separate appointments. Mind you, there's nothing wrong with him. It seems all our appointments thus far have been for a "well baby," and for that we are thankful. But, like with his 48 hours in the NICU, there are downsides to taking a "well baby" to a doctor's office.
The two-week appointment on Monday was a follow-up to the one-week appointment. The doctor wanted to see that the aplasia was healing well, which it is -- indeed, surpassing our expectations for how well and how quickly the spots would cover over. The doctor and her resident confirmed this in about three minutes. I also wanted to see the lactation consultant, who turned out to be hugely unhelpful and for whom I paid a second copay. A few hours after getting home from the doctor's office on Monday, I got a call to let me know that Ollie's newborn screening tests, as mandated by the state, had been done too early at the hospital and had to be repeated. So back we went on Tuesday. Wes was working or out of town for both appointments, so I schlepped the baby up on my own, which is fine though a little daunting the first time. The second appointment involved pricking Ollie's heel -- in this case three times by a nurse who seemed somewhat incompetent -- and squeezing out blood into five neat little circles on a sheet of paper. Surely someone can come up with a better way to do these newborn screening tests. Do you know what happens when you prick a newborn on his heel -- three times -- and then squeeze the blood out? He cries. He screams and then he cries. And there's nothing you can do to console him, though you try anyway.
But the tears I reference aren't Ollie's. They're mine. While I don't mind taking a healthy baby to the doctor's office for these "well baby" checkups, I do mind -- terribly -- waiting an hour or more at both appointments. If you can't see me at 1pm, don't give me an appointment for 1pm. I know doctors get behind, have sick patients who need seen on a last-minute basis, or whatever, but an hour-long wait two days in a row is inexcusable. Especially when I'm sitting there with a newborn, exposing him to every germ coming through the waiting room. On Tuesday as I sat, I heard a nurse mention that a family waiting in one of the rooms had two cases of strep throat and one of scarlet fever. Just what a three-week-old should be around, right?
So I found myself there on Tuesday, after an hour and the second hour of waiting in two days, watching family after family go back before me when all I needed was a nurse to redo the screening tests. At an hour, I gathered my nerve and asked the receptionist how much longer it would be. The problem, of course, was that I couldn't just ask. I couldn't be angry and frustrated and even indignant. I asked -- as I teared up. I'd like to blame it on postpartum hormones or the lack of sleep I was suffering from at that point, but mostly it's just me -- I cry when I get frustrated like that. I was just so mad that these people were forcing me to sit there with a healthy baby surrounded by sick kids.
So while I don't have to learn how to change diapers or give a bath or rock a baby to sleep -- those I learned on other people's kids -- the one thing I do need to learn as a new mom is how to advocate for myself and my child -- without crying. And I'll do that first by finding a new pediatrician.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
The Adventures of a Sleepless Baby
It was around 9pm last night, when Oliver still had not yet awoken from his post-dinner nap, that I began to worry what we were in for. Still, Ollie hadn't had a truly bad night yet, and he'd often slept soundly during the day only to do the same at night.This was not to be the night. I nursed him at 10:30pm, put him in his crib, and Wes and I went to bed. For about 5 minutes. At which point Ollie let us know that he was not interested in being in his crib. Wes consented to take the first shift, and as I slumbered, he watched Enemy at the Gate while holding and rocking our wide-awake baby boy. Wes gave him a bottle of expressed milk around 1am and tried to put him down again around 3am. Which is when my shift started. I nursed him and tried to put him back to sleep -- or down to sleep in the first place, I guess. He resisted, and I worried his stuffiness was keeping him from sleeping. I nursed again around 4 or 4:30am. Then he napped in fits on
my chest until around 7am, when I nursed again.Wes took back over around 8am so I could sleep for another hour or two after being up for 5 hours. I awoke around 9:30am when Ollie's squalls (he had pooped out of his diaper, which required extensive clean-up) reached me in the bedroom.
So far this morning? Ollie nursed (he's a good eater) and has since been down for a nap. Wes has assured me that one way or another he will keep Ollie up this afternoon. I knew it was only a matter of time before my sleep-happy baby decided to pull an all-nighter...
Friday, September 26, 2008
Ollie's Journal, Week 2, or I eat; therefore, I am
Things I did:
1. Slept and ate. Ate and slept.
2. Went to Jewel with mom. She got sushi!
3. Rode the bus (#3 King Drive) to mom's workplace and met lots of her colleagues. They really liked me.
4. Visited with Grandma N. on the computer. Everyone should have a webcam!
5. Went for a walk with mom and dad and Lucy. They got ice cream after. I napped.
Right now: Sleeping on daddy's belly while he watches the presidential debate.
1. Slept and ate. Ate and slept.
2. Went to Jewel with mom. She got sushi!
3. Rode the bus (#3 King Drive) to mom's workplace and met lots of her colleagues. They really liked me.
4. Visited with Grandma N. on the computer. Everyone should have a webcam!
5. Went for a walk with mom and dad and Lucy. They got ice cream after. I napped.
Right now: Sleeping on daddy's belly while he watches the presidential debate.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Monkeying around
Ollie got some more tummy time today during one of his long stretches of wakefulness. Wes and Lucy joined him to provide some encouragement, but he still opted out after a few minutes. I can see him really trying to pull his head up, though it's obviously still quite floppy. The trade-off, seemingly, for these long periods of being up during the day is some impressive sleep at night. He pretty much eats or sleeps throughout, which means I get a few hours at a time with 30-45 minutes up to nurse and change him. I'm trying to be especially appreciative of this now as I'm convinced it can't last. Watch him start the up-all-night routine just when I go back to work... Sunday, September 21, 2008
Bath time, take 2
Ollie got his second bath today. Wes seems to take the lead on the washing (he's known to enjoy long showers himself and is very thorough in his washing), and I'm ready with the towel afterwards. O doesn't seem to enjoy the bath itself very much, but he's very happy afterwards when swaddled up. Here he is sporting his matching monkey slippers. And, like Lucy, a bath is always a reason for a nice long nap afterwards. Wes thinks his skinny, bent legs make him look like a frog.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Please Mr. Postman...
Oliver got his first piece of mail addressed to him today! The NICU sent him a survey to see how they did.And once he can read, wield a pen, and write, we'll send it in.
Ollie's Journal, Days 7 and 8
Things I did:1. Learned to nurse! We still have some work to do, but mom is very happy about this.
2. Met my pediatrician. I weighed 7 lbs. 15 oz., and I am 20.5" long. Oh, and I can hear.
3. Visited some of mom's and dad's friends at and near the hospital. They were nice and thought I was really cute.
4. Went shopping. Dad got a shirt for his interviews coming up, and today Lucy got some treats that are supposed to make her smell better.
5. Tried tummy time again. I liked it a little more.
Right now: Waking up.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
The old arm crossed over the eyes
He may be a Self, but this is evidence that he is also a Neiheisel. Ollie's Journal, Days 4, 5, and 6
Things I did:1. Went for a walk to the promonotory around Museum Campus. Dad insisted on taking me out of my stroller and holding me up in the air for a picture. He seems to like to do that.
2. Tried tummy time. Liked it for about 60 seconds.
3. Pooed on the changing table while my diaper was off. Dad didn't think it was as funny as I did.
4. Got in the baby carrier. Mom thinks I'm still a little small for it. Tomorrow, we'll try and swing.
5. Slept through mom vacuuming. A skill I think I will often call upon.
Right now: Taking a well-deserved nap after being awake for the last two hours. Dad's napping, too.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Speedy Delivery
Note: The following is a posting about Oliver's delivery. It contains certain details that might freak out, say, a guy. You have been forewarned.
I frequently said going into Ollie's delivery that I didn't know what it was going to be like, and I was prepared for that. And I didn't know exactly how it would unfold, but I found that I was prepared for it. I was worried at times that not taking a class would mean I wasn't really ready to handle labor without meds, but since I wasn't 100% committed to being unmedicated, I tried to embrace that. As it turns out, I think I just knew my own "learning style." All the books and fore-flection (as opposed to reflection) on what could happen left me open to whatever, but knowledgeable enough to feel calm about the situation.
Contractions started around 3am on Friday the 12th. I woke up to use the restroom and notice cramping that felt similar to what I'd heard described as contractions. They weren't terribly uncomfortable and were pretty sporadic. When Wes got up for work, I told him, "I may or may not be having contractions." After he left I fell back to sleep for about another hour before the alarm went off for me, too. When I used the bathroom, I passed my mucus plug and knew then that I was within 24 hours of meeting my son. It was exciting, though I was nervous about what lay ahead.
I called Wes, who nixed my idea of going to work for as long as possible, and then the midwife (at Wes's behest), who confirmed that I was fine to stay home for as long as I wanted (unless my water broke). I talked briefly with my mom. Wes was already on a 6-3 shift, and since things were moving seemingly slowly, there was no real reason for him to use sick call and come home. I'd always believed I would labor better by myself early on, without him watching and worrying, and I think that was in fact the case. Not that he didn't know what to do, but that there wasn't really much, in my mind, that could be done.
I did, in fact, go to school for an hour to drop off some materials and talk to the teacher who would be taking over my classes on Monday. I saw some neighbors and then a bunch of teachers at school who couldn't believe I was up and about. I don't know what it's like for other women, but for me, those first few hours were just like intense menstrual cramps. I had to stop and stand still for some of them, but there was no need to breathe through them or anything like that.
When I got home from school, the nesting instinct everyone talks about really kicked in. I decided, as was only reasonable, that I needed to clean before the baby came. I took all the linens off the bed and started cleaning the bathroom between contractions, which by 9am were a little more uncomfortable and regular. I talked to my sister once or twice, who, when I had two on the phone with her (and that I had to stop talking for), forewarned me that labor was picking up. Wes called to update me on when he would be home and make sure I was okay. I rocked in the rocking chair, tried to get comfortable on the couch (the rocking chair made my lower back ache), and walked some. Kneeling didn't seem to do much for me. I think in that period of labor, I felt okay about being without drugs. I was still nervous about how much had to still happen (and I didn't know if I would be able to feel if I was dilating), but I was mostly focusing on the next contraction. I didn't really time them except for two 10-15 minute periods. I had a general sense of how often they were coming, but mostly I was thinking about the pain level.
Wes got home at 3am, took Lucy to the vet, and jumped in the shower. While he was in there I called the midwife, thinking it might be close to time to go in. I was getting to the point where I couldn't find any relief from the pain. She told me, though, that it sounded like I was doing well, and she would encourage me to stay home another hour or two if I wanted, maybe try the shower, and call her back. I did get in the shower for 30 to 45 minutes, which helped me get some relief before the contractions picked up even more. When I got out, I threw up pretty hard, which made me a little nervous and confirmed my desire to head to the hospital. It took at least another 30 minutes, though, for me to get dressed, to talk to the midwife again, and to get downstairs with our stuff.
By this point, I was groaning through the contractions. I was in our lobby for at least 5 minutes on my knees on the couch moaning while Wes tried to hail a cab -- during rush hour -- on Friday -- while it was raining. The cab driver seemed pretty calm, even with me moaning and groaning in the back seat, though Wes said he was clearly looking nervous when traffic was totally stopped on Lakeshore Drive. It took over 20 minutes to reach the hospital, which is 1 1/2 miles from our apartment. I could feel my water break and leak with each contraction in the cab (which, fortunately, I had foreseen and taken precaution to manage without damage to the cab). When we got out, I had 3 contractions between the taxi and the door of triage, a total distance of maybe 200 feet.
The triage people got me to see a nurse right away. I passed something else (more mucous plus, amniotic fluid, I don't know), and then she examined me between contractions. At that point, I thought I was maybe 7 or 8 cm dilated and had decided that, if so, I was going to get an epidural. I couldn't imagine another 2-3 hours or more in the state I was in. Fortunately, I was 9cm and baby was +2 station. We moved quickly up to labor and delivery, but, for reasons unclear to me, the midwife was not there. Instead, I was greeted by one of Wes's and my good friends who is a 4th-year OB/GYN resident. I had joked with her prior to the delivery that if she was in the delivery room, we could never be friends again. After she checked me, too, I looked at Wes and said, "Brook and I will never have the same relationship." There was some concern by the triage nurse and Brook that the baby was presenting weird, so an attending came in to have a feel, too. I begged to get off my back, which was horribly uncomfortable, and they let me squat on the bed. The contractions were at their most painful and most frequent at this point, and I was 100% dilated and effaced. They broke what was left of my water and encouraged me to start pushing. I tried, but there was no urge to push and it was horribly painful. People kept telling me not to make any noise and hold my breath, but it just didn't feel right.
At this point, I was offered an epidural. I was skeptical that it would work fast enough, but I couldn't fathom pushing through what I was feeling, so I said okay. A nurse got my IV going, which I needed for the penicillin (for Strep B) anyway, and the anesthesiologist did a fast run-down with me. Just about that time my midwife came in. She wanted to check me, too, and got me more on my side to do so. After she looked, she told me I didn't need an epidural, I was ready to push and doing great, and she cleared the room but for two nurses.
And then it just happened. I finally felt the urge to push, I was able to get a bit of rest in between contractions, and the midwife and nurses just encouraged and coached me through it. It's amazing how much difference it makes just to have someone there say, "Hey, you can do this. You're doing great." Wes stood by the bed and held my hand and let me pull against him while I pushed. I could feel the baby's head and the aptly named "Ring of fire." There was almost some comfort, literally and figuratively, in the realization that I was just going to have to do it, regardless of how I felt. That baby was going to come out. Wes asked if I wanted to see or feel his head come out, but I was doing much better just focusing on the pushing without associating it with any product. I know that sounds weird, but I didn't care if I was birthing a watermelon at that point -- I was going to push it out!
If there's one thing that recommends going without an epidural, it's the last 10 seconds of the delivery. I don't know what you can feel if you've had meds, so maybe it's not much different, but feeling that baby come of you is totally unbelievable. That was the moment when it all came together and I realized what had just happened. They put him on my chest, and I just smiled and laughed and rubbed his back. He was yelling up a storm (working for that 9 on his Apgar) and, save for the spots on his head, looked great. About 10 seconds out, he pooped meconium all over my chest, but I seriously could not care. They let me be with him for a minute before taking him to weigh and measure him and inspect his head. I passed the placenta with one easy push, and the midwife got me some meds before putting in a few stitches. It took a few minutes for me to be able to relax my pelvis, and I miraculously felt pretty good. I guess that hormone rush really does happen.
The nurses let us both hold him for a few minutes before taking him to the NICU to see a neurologist for the aplasia. I wanted to be with him, but I felt good knowing he was going to get seen.
The recovery has, thus far, been very good. Wes has been really cute about everything -- he seems so proud of my "performance," if you will, and tells everyone about it. I was in the door of triage around 6:45pm, baby was born 7:30pm, with about 20 minutes of pushing, and I was up and walking within a few hours of that. I know full well that most of what happened is just nature -- some women labor longer, suffer more painful or frequent contractions, deal with complications, etc. I'd like to think that my activeness during the pregnancy and labor helped some, and I am proud of myself for trusting that I could make it through, but mostly I'm just so grateful that things went the way they did, knowing that I owe it to biology and luck.
I frequently said going into Ollie's delivery that I didn't know what it was going to be like, and I was prepared for that. And I didn't know exactly how it would unfold, but I found that I was prepared for it. I was worried at times that not taking a class would mean I wasn't really ready to handle labor without meds, but since I wasn't 100% committed to being unmedicated, I tried to embrace that. As it turns out, I think I just knew my own "learning style." All the books and fore-flection (as opposed to reflection) on what could happen left me open to whatever, but knowledgeable enough to feel calm about the situation.
Contractions started around 3am on Friday the 12th. I woke up to use the restroom and notice cramping that felt similar to what I'd heard described as contractions. They weren't terribly uncomfortable and were pretty sporadic. When Wes got up for work, I told him, "I may or may not be having contractions." After he left I fell back to sleep for about another hour before the alarm went off for me, too. When I used the bathroom, I passed my mucus plug and knew then that I was within 24 hours of meeting my son. It was exciting, though I was nervous about what lay ahead.
I called Wes, who nixed my idea of going to work for as long as possible, and then the midwife (at Wes's behest), who confirmed that I was fine to stay home for as long as I wanted (unless my water broke). I talked briefly with my mom. Wes was already on a 6-3 shift, and since things were moving seemingly slowly, there was no real reason for him to use sick call and come home. I'd always believed I would labor better by myself early on, without him watching and worrying, and I think that was in fact the case. Not that he didn't know what to do, but that there wasn't really much, in my mind, that could be done.
I did, in fact, go to school for an hour to drop off some materials and talk to the teacher who would be taking over my classes on Monday. I saw some neighbors and then a bunch of teachers at school who couldn't believe I was up and about. I don't know what it's like for other women, but for me, those first few hours were just like intense menstrual cramps. I had to stop and stand still for some of them, but there was no need to breathe through them or anything like that.
When I got home from school, the nesting instinct everyone talks about really kicked in. I decided, as was only reasonable, that I needed to clean before the baby came. I took all the linens off the bed and started cleaning the bathroom between contractions, which by 9am were a little more uncomfortable and regular. I talked to my sister once or twice, who, when I had two on the phone with her (and that I had to stop talking for), forewarned me that labor was picking up. Wes called to update me on when he would be home and make sure I was okay. I rocked in the rocking chair, tried to get comfortable on the couch (the rocking chair made my lower back ache), and walked some. Kneeling didn't seem to do much for me. I think in that period of labor, I felt okay about being without drugs. I was still nervous about how much had to still happen (and I didn't know if I would be able to feel if I was dilating), but I was mostly focusing on the next contraction. I didn't really time them except for two 10-15 minute periods. I had a general sense of how often they were coming, but mostly I was thinking about the pain level.
Wes got home at 3am, took Lucy to the vet, and jumped in the shower. While he was in there I called the midwife, thinking it might be close to time to go in. I was getting to the point where I couldn't find any relief from the pain. She told me, though, that it sounded like I was doing well, and she would encourage me to stay home another hour or two if I wanted, maybe try the shower, and call her back. I did get in the shower for 30 to 45 minutes, which helped me get some relief before the contractions picked up even more. When I got out, I threw up pretty hard, which made me a little nervous and confirmed my desire to head to the hospital. It took at least another 30 minutes, though, for me to get dressed, to talk to the midwife again, and to get downstairs with our stuff.
By this point, I was groaning through the contractions. I was in our lobby for at least 5 minutes on my knees on the couch moaning while Wes tried to hail a cab -- during rush hour -- on Friday -- while it was raining. The cab driver seemed pretty calm, even with me moaning and groaning in the back seat, though Wes said he was clearly looking nervous when traffic was totally stopped on Lakeshore Drive. It took over 20 minutes to reach the hospital, which is 1 1/2 miles from our apartment. I could feel my water break and leak with each contraction in the cab (which, fortunately, I had foreseen and taken precaution to manage without damage to the cab). When we got out, I had 3 contractions between the taxi and the door of triage, a total distance of maybe 200 feet.
The triage people got me to see a nurse right away. I passed something else (more mucous plus, amniotic fluid, I don't know), and then she examined me between contractions. At that point, I thought I was maybe 7 or 8 cm dilated and had decided that, if so, I was going to get an epidural. I couldn't imagine another 2-3 hours or more in the state I was in. Fortunately, I was 9cm and baby was +2 station. We moved quickly up to labor and delivery, but, for reasons unclear to me, the midwife was not there. Instead, I was greeted by one of Wes's and my good friends who is a 4th-year OB/GYN resident. I had joked with her prior to the delivery that if she was in the delivery room, we could never be friends again. After she checked me, too, I looked at Wes and said, "Brook and I will never have the same relationship." There was some concern by the triage nurse and Brook that the baby was presenting weird, so an attending came in to have a feel, too. I begged to get off my back, which was horribly uncomfortable, and they let me squat on the bed. The contractions were at their most painful and most frequent at this point, and I was 100% dilated and effaced. They broke what was left of my water and encouraged me to start pushing. I tried, but there was no urge to push and it was horribly painful. People kept telling me not to make any noise and hold my breath, but it just didn't feel right.
At this point, I was offered an epidural. I was skeptical that it would work fast enough, but I couldn't fathom pushing through what I was feeling, so I said okay. A nurse got my IV going, which I needed for the penicillin (for Strep B) anyway, and the anesthesiologist did a fast run-down with me. Just about that time my midwife came in. She wanted to check me, too, and got me more on my side to do so. After she looked, she told me I didn't need an epidural, I was ready to push and doing great, and she cleared the room but for two nurses.
And then it just happened. I finally felt the urge to push, I was able to get a bit of rest in between contractions, and the midwife and nurses just encouraged and coached me through it. It's amazing how much difference it makes just to have someone there say, "Hey, you can do this. You're doing great." Wes stood by the bed and held my hand and let me pull against him while I pushed. I could feel the baby's head and the aptly named "Ring of fire." There was almost some comfort, literally and figuratively, in the realization that I was just going to have to do it, regardless of how I felt. That baby was going to come out. Wes asked if I wanted to see or feel his head come out, but I was doing much better just focusing on the pushing without associating it with any product. I know that sounds weird, but I didn't care if I was birthing a watermelon at that point -- I was going to push it out!
If there's one thing that recommends going without an epidural, it's the last 10 seconds of the delivery. I don't know what you can feel if you've had meds, so maybe it's not much different, but feeling that baby come of you is totally unbelievable. That was the moment when it all came together and I realized what had just happened. They put him on my chest, and I just smiled and laughed and rubbed his back. He was yelling up a storm (working for that 9 on his Apgar) and, save for the spots on his head, looked great. About 10 seconds out, he pooped meconium all over my chest, but I seriously could not care. They let me be with him for a minute before taking him to weigh and measure him and inspect his head. I passed the placenta with one easy push, and the midwife got me some meds before putting in a few stitches. It took a few minutes for me to be able to relax my pelvis, and I miraculously felt pretty good. I guess that hormone rush really does happen.
The nurses let us both hold him for a few minutes before taking him to the NICU to see a neurologist for the aplasia. I wanted to be with him, but I felt good knowing he was going to get seen.
The recovery has, thus far, been very good. Wes has been really cute about everything -- he seems so proud of my "performance," if you will, and tells everyone about it. I was in the door of triage around 6:45pm, baby was born 7:30pm, with about 20 minutes of pushing, and I was up and walking within a few hours of that. I know full well that most of what happened is just nature -- some women labor longer, suffer more painful or frequent contractions, deal with complications, etc. I'd like to think that my activeness during the pregnancy and labor helped some, and I am proud of myself for trusting that I could make it through, but mostly I'm just so grateful that things went the way they did, knowing that I owe it to biology and luck.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Who says boys don't get flowers?
Our deepest thanks to my sister and brother-in-law, who went to great lengths to send us the beautiful arrangement on the left (they tried to send them to the hospital on Saturday, but we'd already been discharged!) and to one of Wes's attending physicians, who sent the adorable truck arrangement on the right. Wes said it was the attending he was working with on Friday while I was in labor.Our apartment looks -- and smells-- wonderful!
Ollie's Journal, Day 3
Things I did today:1. Kept either mom or dad up most of the night, as I wanted to be held or walked or rocked. Dad says we'll need to work on this.
2. Got my diaper changed several times. I don't enjoy it.
3. Met the dog, who doesn't seem real interested in me. But I think she's coming around. She sniffed me a few times.
4. Had a bath. I didn't like getting naked, but I kind of liked the washing part. Sitting in the sink at the end to get hosed off was the wierdest part.
5. Went to Target. I mostly slept in the stroller while mom and dad bought me hats and stuff.
Right now: Chillin' in the Pack 'n Play.
Premie puns
His shirt says: I wasn't born yesterday.Which is true -- he was 2 days old yesterday.
And on a side note: does anyone else thinks he looks a little like an elf? Or Mr. Magoo?
Ollie, Ollie -- Home free
As of 24 hours ago, we are all finally at home. Oliver was discharged with instructions to keep his head covered in Aquaphor (and away from the dog's licks) and follow up with the pediatrician and, in a few weeks, the neurosurgeon. It was nice to finally come home. Lucy didn't return until this morning, so we had one night to just be in the condo together without needing to take her out.Most importantly, we are thrilled to finally have a wireless baby!
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