Friday. He's 36 weeks gestational and ten weeks old. As the book says, "Baby can suck," which I find to be a highly amusing title. Like it's an insult or something. Your baby can just suck it. Well, our baby can, thank you very much, and quite well.
He's supposed to be between 16 and 19 inches long (he is... he's almost 19 inches), and he's supposed to weigh about 6 to 6 1/2 pounds (he's more like 5 pounds 8 ounces). Recent fat deposits have rounded out his face (yyyyuuup), and his powerful sucking muscles are ready for action (Oh yeah).
His parents are being made slowly insane by the discharge "preparation" at this hospital. I have so much to say, and so little time to say it. But I'll get there, never you fear.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
lactate this!
All the talk about giving him a bottle was starting to make me crazy. I wanted to talk to a lactation consultant before I gave my consent, but they are really busy, and it took until Tuesday for one of them to get to me. There are only two, and it turns out that the other is out right now, so that leaves only one for all the moms in ICC, NICU, and SCN.
She was great. Finn was asleep after a short burst of nursing, so she did not get to see him in action, but we talked about our situation. She said that he may need to use the nipple shield until around his due date; they get used to the pacifiers which, in a hospital setting, are a good thing for them, but no one has nipples that long and of that texture and consistency (hopefully). I am not sure how I go about weaning him off of the shield, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. She did not seem concerned about the bottle; he'll be coming home with a supplement in any case that will have to be given by bottle, so it's out of my control (another "choice" that is not really a choice). I'll just make sure to get him on the boob as often as possible both now and when we are at home. She also had me draw 3 cc's out of my pumping from each breast so she could test the fat content. Turns out, he's getting a lot of skim milk, so she recommends that I pump for two minutes on whatever breast he is going to use and then stick to that breast for the whole feeding so he can get some higher fat content "hind milk."
He's doing very well with eating, though. I think he likes it. Pete came to the hospital yesterday at 3 for his first bottle (and to bring me a car key because I had locked my keys conveniently inside the car so I would know exactly where they were). I won't be giving him bottles; I'll just be boob central so as not to confuse matters more. He did a good job with Pete, and he did a good job over night. It's part of why he seems to be on the pushy fast track to home. It took us about six minutes to get a good latch this morning, but I am not going to blame it on the bottle. I'll just be patient and work through any of those difficulties as they arise.
She was great. Finn was asleep after a short burst of nursing, so she did not get to see him in action, but we talked about our situation. She said that he may need to use the nipple shield until around his due date; they get used to the pacifiers which, in a hospital setting, are a good thing for them, but no one has nipples that long and of that texture and consistency (hopefully). I am not sure how I go about weaning him off of the shield, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. She did not seem concerned about the bottle; he'll be coming home with a supplement in any case that will have to be given by bottle, so it's out of my control (another "choice" that is not really a choice). I'll just make sure to get him on the boob as often as possible both now and when we are at home. She also had me draw 3 cc's out of my pumping from each breast so she could test the fat content. Turns out, he's getting a lot of skim milk, so she recommends that I pump for two minutes on whatever breast he is going to use and then stick to that breast for the whole feeding so he can get some higher fat content "hind milk."
He's doing very well with eating, though. I think he likes it. Pete came to the hospital yesterday at 3 for his first bottle (and to bring me a car key because I had locked my keys conveniently inside the car so I would know exactly where they were). I won't be giving him bottles; I'll just be boob central so as not to confuse matters more. He did a good job with Pete, and he did a good job over night. It's part of why he seems to be on the pushy fast track to home. It took us about six minutes to get a good latch this morning, but I am not going to blame it on the bottle. I'll just be patient and work through any of those difficulties as they arise.
wow.
This morning after his feeding and before his eye exam, Finn's big-eyed, perky nurse practitioner said that he could be coming home "by or before the weekend." I am not sure what the difference is between "by" and "before," but in my book, they are the same. I guess if he passes his carseat evaluation tomorrow morning and continues eating on his own, they are shipping him home. While most people would say "How wonderful!" it is a cause for many mixed emotions in us. We were prepared to bring him home at the end of the month. Physically speaking, we could bring him home now. Meaning, we have almost all the "stuff" we need. Emotionally, it's scary to think about bringing him home. Logistically, when it comes to work situations, there's no way we are ready to leave work. Pete won't be able to; I will have to, but I am not sure how...
Long Weekend: 2
I was talking about nipple shields, and I got distracted by extreme diaper cream and my inability to stand up to, well, anyone. I had a Guinness and went to bed rather than subject everyone to a rambling diatribe. Though rambling diatribes do often make for interesting content.
I put the nipple shield on... no, wait, the nurse put the nipple shield on like she was struggling to put a turtleneck on a cat, and told me what to do. Five days later, it's hard to imagine why she felt she needed to put the nipple shield on for me or why the whole transaction glimmers in my mind with a sort of frantic energy, but that's how I remember it. Everything she does has a frantic energy behind it; it's just her way. Watching bath time was painful for me as she tried to get Pete to move faster. I knew that if she were "helping" me, I would not enjoy it. I don't think Pete loved the experience, either, but he's much more capable than I when it comes to dealing with other humans.
With nipple shield in place, and feeling like a big, biological bottle, I moved Finn in, and he latched right on and sucked away. He's been doing so ever since, except or when he's sleepy and does not want to wake up to eat. He's very used to sleeping through meals, after all. But over the weekend, which included me taking Monday and Tuesday off to work with him more, he fed himself for most of the times we tried the breastfeeding. We did four feedings Saturday through Monday and three yesterday. He needed supplements only two or three times.
How it works is, if he sucks well for ten minutes (my baby sucks), then he does not get a supplement (the nose feeding). If he sucks for five minutes, he gets half, and so on. It's not very scientific. The only way to really tell how much he's getting would be to weigh him before and after, but they don't do that unless his weight starts to drop. So far, he has gained or stayed the same. He's now at 5 pounds 7 ounces, and he looks great.
It was a long and tiring four days that included loads of errands on Monday and a dentist appointment on Tuesday, as well as two quick stops at The Dubliner, our "home pub" to visit with some friends who were performing. On this end of it, getting ready to go back to the hospital for his 9 o'clock and then to work, it's hard to believe how far he has come in such a short time, and it's even harder to believe that he could be home in a week.
To put it simply: we have a lot to do...
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Long Weekend: 1
Where have I been Saturday through now?
Well, I'll tell you: at the hospital.
When last we left our cheery cyber pages, I was catching up from the last week. I was thinking about a lovely cage match between clinical nurses and hippie lactation consultants. I was trying to make important decisions about my child's medical care without the benefit of a healthy therapeutic relationship. I was marveling at a semantic argument, and I was feeling distanced from my ability to make choices.
Granted, what I wrote was probably not expressed in the above manner because I was very tired. I am still very tired, but it is only 9:00 at night this time. Dozens of little writing crumbs have fallen between the stove and the cabinet, and perhaps with the right tool, they will come back to me as I reach back through the last few days, but in the meantime, this may be somewhat detached from emotion. And interesting content.
How about we start with the nurse pulling out a nipple shield and asking me if I wanted to try it?
The nurse said "I ordered a nipple shield. Do you want to try it?"
"I... um... er... uh... ok."
I don't like surprises or snap decisions, and I usually react with acquiescence.
My nipples are not sore or sensitive or otherwise damaged. They got over that long ago, in the first week of exclusive pumping. I was trying to get him away from the silicone sensation of pacifiers, but she had already said that "the insurance companies won't let him stay here if it is just because you want him exclusively on the breast" and the nurses had stood around talking about how I should try to breastfeed two to four times a day. Looking back now, with the knowledge that they were relentless and would just keep asking the unanswered questions until you caved, I could have been more assertive. I have already proven that I am not so good at that.
"F*&$ them! He's your goddamn baby," a friend said to me Friday night, and I have definitely been trying to keep that at the forefront of my mind, but certain personalities just shut me down. Stern Grandma reminds me of my Stern Grandma, who I loved but who made me crazy, so I can't cross her. I wither, in fact. She's all about the Extreme Diaper Cream, for instance, and I would never allow that stuff in my house with its ingredient list, but here I was, smearing it on my baby's bare bum because she told me to.
Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me?
Oops.
OK, so I guess this is not free from emotion...
Well, I'll tell you: at the hospital.
When last we left our cheery cyber pages, I was catching up from the last week. I was thinking about a lovely cage match between clinical nurses and hippie lactation consultants. I was trying to make important decisions about my child's medical care without the benefit of a healthy therapeutic relationship. I was marveling at a semantic argument, and I was feeling distanced from my ability to make choices.
Granted, what I wrote was probably not expressed in the above manner because I was very tired. I am still very tired, but it is only 9:00 at night this time. Dozens of little writing crumbs have fallen between the stove and the cabinet, and perhaps with the right tool, they will come back to me as I reach back through the last few days, but in the meantime, this may be somewhat detached from emotion. And interesting content.
How about we start with the nurse pulling out a nipple shield and asking me if I wanted to try it?
The nurse said "I ordered a nipple shield. Do you want to try it?"
"I... um... er... uh... ok."
I don't like surprises or snap decisions, and I usually react with acquiescence.
My nipples are not sore or sensitive or otherwise damaged. They got over that long ago, in the first week of exclusive pumping. I was trying to get him away from the silicone sensation of pacifiers, but she had already said that "the insurance companies won't let him stay here if it is just because you want him exclusively on the breast" and the nurses had stood around talking about how I should try to breastfeed two to four times a day. Looking back now, with the knowledge that they were relentless and would just keep asking the unanswered questions until you caved, I could have been more assertive. I have already proven that I am not so good at that.
"F*&$ them! He's your goddamn baby," a friend said to me Friday night, and I have definitely been trying to keep that at the forefront of my mind, but certain personalities just shut me down. Stern Grandma reminds me of my Stern Grandma, who I loved but who made me crazy, so I can't cross her. I wither, in fact. She's all about the Extreme Diaper Cream, for instance, and I would never allow that stuff in my house with its ingredient list, but here I was, smearing it on my baby's bare bum because she told me to.
Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me?
Oops.
OK, so I guess this is not free from emotion...
Holy Sheep Dip, Batman!
Word on the Ward is that Finn could be coming home "as early as this weekend."
*insert collective deep breath here*
I have some catching up to do...
*insert collective deep breath here*
I have some catching up to do...
Friday, August 1, 2008
35 & 9
"In Week 35, Rapid growth continues" says the book.
"Your baby continues to pack on the pounds and store fat all over his or her body. The crowded conditions inside your uterus may make it harder for your baby to give you a punch, but you'll probably feel lots of stretches, rolls and wiggles."
He certainly is gaining weight and has succeeded in creating kissable cheeks and a double chin, just like he's supposed to. He's positively enormous to me... until I see a term baby, and think "gosh, what a freak of nature." Term babies are unspeakably large.
My uterus, on the other hand, is not suffering from crowded conditions and will remain so, for at least a year, and possibly forever. Who knows if we will do this again, as I have said before to shock and horror.
He's 35 today (9 weeks). At 35, I was finally smart--or at least smarter--and Finn is exhibiting emotional growth as well.
We've still been nuzzling, and he definitely can latch on, but he has not been able to sustain interest for a significant length of time and did not seem to be transferring any milk. Who could have thought that I would be using the words "suck, swallow, breast, pump, and nipple" so often in such a family friendly way? But here I am, having these conversations on a daily basis with normal people in public situations. Modesty pretty much goes out the window once you have been through labor, and that candor continues when you have a newborn. It only stops when they start to understand you, and sometimes, not even then.
Being that Special Care is baby training, they are eager to get him on the breast and, to my dismay, onto bottles. At 35 weeks, apparently, he should be getting bottle feeds when I am not there. "He's very oral," our nurse said, and he seems to want to eat. The nurse asked if I had tried a nipple shield and did I want to try a nipple shield. I didn't know. She brought me a nipple shield, the next time I showed up.
This brings me to another little quibble with SCN: pressure and choices.
Something is presented to you as a choice, like our "choice" of ICC or Special Care. Turns out, not a choice. The doctors chose, and we went along with it. Looking back, we wish we had been more assertive, but I don't know when we could have. We were asked twice which we preferred; we made inquiries; we thought about it, and the next time it came up, the decision had been made: Special Care.
Now, we are in Special Care, and it doesn't feel very special or very caring. Our evening nurse is great: she's a cloth diapering grandma and we have plenty to talk about on the subject, but the "feel" of the whole experience is not as friendly as the NICU. I don't feel like we have much continuity of care, and I have no therapeutic relationship with any of the practitioners. And you know, now is when I need it most. Now it's time for the questions of vaccinations, bottle feedings, and other decisions for which I need thorough and impartial information from someone I can trust and who knows Finn, as well as someone who will respect my parenting decisions.
About the vaccinations, I said that I needed to do some reading. About the bottles, I said that I wanted to work on the breast feeding and talk to someone from lactation. I sometimes get the feeling that Lacation and The Nurses should have a cage match because from what I overhear, I don't think their viewpoints match up. The nurses are too clinical, and the lactation consultants are too touchy-feely and too adamant about "breast only."
I've been disliking the pacifier since day one, but the nurses kept saying it was good. Now, I find that he does not know what to do with my bare nipples. When she brought me the nipple shield, I felt like I had to try it. He latched right on. Of course. He's used to the feel of the pacifier.
"There's no such thing as nipple confusion," the nurse said, "Babies don't get confused."
I think we could have a semantic argument here, and I think it should happen just before the cage match to really get both sides riled up.
(and now, I need to go to bed. Because it's really 12:29 on Tuesday morning, and I am trying to catch up on this blog by backdating.)
(nipple)
"Your baby continues to pack on the pounds and store fat all over his or her body. The crowded conditions inside your uterus may make it harder for your baby to give you a punch, but you'll probably feel lots of stretches, rolls and wiggles."
He certainly is gaining weight and has succeeded in creating kissable cheeks and a double chin, just like he's supposed to. He's positively enormous to me... until I see a term baby, and think "gosh, what a freak of nature." Term babies are unspeakably large.
My uterus, on the other hand, is not suffering from crowded conditions and will remain so, for at least a year, and possibly forever. Who knows if we will do this again, as I have said before to shock and horror.
He's 35 today (9 weeks). At 35, I was finally smart--or at least smarter--and Finn is exhibiting emotional growth as well.
We've still been nuzzling, and he definitely can latch on, but he has not been able to sustain interest for a significant length of time and did not seem to be transferring any milk. Who could have thought that I would be using the words "suck, swallow, breast, pump, and nipple" so often in such a family friendly way? But here I am, having these conversations on a daily basis with normal people in public situations. Modesty pretty much goes out the window once you have been through labor, and that candor continues when you have a newborn. It only stops when they start to understand you, and sometimes, not even then.
Being that Special Care is baby training, they are eager to get him on the breast and, to my dismay, onto bottles. At 35 weeks, apparently, he should be getting bottle feeds when I am not there. "He's very oral," our nurse said, and he seems to want to eat. The nurse asked if I had tried a nipple shield and did I want to try a nipple shield. I didn't know. She brought me a nipple shield, the next time I showed up.
This brings me to another little quibble with SCN: pressure and choices.
Something is presented to you as a choice, like our "choice" of ICC or Special Care. Turns out, not a choice. The doctors chose, and we went along with it. Looking back, we wish we had been more assertive, but I don't know when we could have. We were asked twice which we preferred; we made inquiries; we thought about it, and the next time it came up, the decision had been made: Special Care.
Now, we are in Special Care, and it doesn't feel very special or very caring. Our evening nurse is great: she's a cloth diapering grandma and we have plenty to talk about on the subject, but the "feel" of the whole experience is not as friendly as the NICU. I don't feel like we have much continuity of care, and I have no therapeutic relationship with any of the practitioners. And you know, now is when I need it most. Now it's time for the questions of vaccinations, bottle feedings, and other decisions for which I need thorough and impartial information from someone I can trust and who knows Finn, as well as someone who will respect my parenting decisions.
About the vaccinations, I said that I needed to do some reading. About the bottles, I said that I wanted to work on the breast feeding and talk to someone from lactation. I sometimes get the feeling that Lacation and The Nurses should have a cage match because from what I overhear, I don't think their viewpoints match up. The nurses are too clinical, and the lactation consultants are too touchy-feely and too adamant about "breast only."
I've been disliking the pacifier since day one, but the nurses kept saying it was good. Now, I find that he does not know what to do with my bare nipples. When she brought me the nipple shield, I felt like I had to try it. He latched right on. Of course. He's used to the feel of the pacifier.
"There's no such thing as nipple confusion," the nurse said, "Babies don't get confused."
I think we could have a semantic argument here, and I think it should happen just before the cage match to really get both sides riled up.
(and now, I need to go to bed. Because it's really 12:29 on Tuesday morning, and I am trying to catch up on this blog by backdating.)
(nipple)
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