Wednesday, October 22, 2008
4 Months!
Zach turned 4 months old on Sunday! There will be video to follow - just have to download it from the video camera.
He had his 4 month checkup on Monday and got his shots. All went well... He screamed like a banshee for about 10 minutes after the shots and had a mild fever for the next day or so. His height and head circumference are 50th percentile and his weight is 25th percentile. I'm not concerned about the weight - breastfed babies weigh less than formula fed and the charts include formula fed babies.
Zach also had an eye check-up on Monday. I'd been noticing his eyes crossing slightly and the pediatrician felt it would be best to have him checked out. We found out he is farsighted, but that it could correct over the next few months. His eyes look healthy and we're just supposed to keep an eye on the eyes crossing. Overall good news!
Today we are having a new furnace installed. We had a really cold day about a week ago and our furnace refused to turn on. We had a technician out and basically the old furnace was toast and a carbon monoxide risk. Scary, especially since the attic access to the furnace is in Zach's room. I'm very thankful it didn't turn on and we are replacing it. They are having to cut apart the old furnace to get it out.
It seems just about every day we are noticing new developments with Zach's personality and interactions. Last night he started taking the binky in and out of his mouth on his own. He is sort of in this in-between stage of not quite realizing his hands are attached to him, but he is starting to do things with them. It is fun to see the progress he is making!
He had his 4 month checkup on Monday and got his shots. All went well... He screamed like a banshee for about 10 minutes after the shots and had a mild fever for the next day or so. His height and head circumference are 50th percentile and his weight is 25th percentile. I'm not concerned about the weight - breastfed babies weigh less than formula fed and the charts include formula fed babies.
Zach also had an eye check-up on Monday. I'd been noticing his eyes crossing slightly and the pediatrician felt it would be best to have him checked out. We found out he is farsighted, but that it could correct over the next few months. His eyes look healthy and we're just supposed to keep an eye on the eyes crossing. Overall good news!
Today we are having a new furnace installed. We had a really cold day about a week ago and our furnace refused to turn on. We had a technician out and basically the old furnace was toast and a carbon monoxide risk. Scary, especially since the attic access to the furnace is in Zach's room. I'm very thankful it didn't turn on and we are replacing it. They are having to cut apart the old furnace to get it out.
It seems just about every day we are noticing new developments with Zach's personality and interactions. Last night he started taking the binky in and out of his mouth on his own. He is sort of in this in-between stage of not quite realizing his hands are attached to him, but he is starting to do things with them. It is fun to see the progress he is making!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Bebe Pod
Zach has just started holding his head up enough for us to use the Bebe Pod. Here is video of him in it today. He's also "playing" with a toy for the first time! I think it wore him out. After I took him out, he nursed for a bit then went down for a nap in no time!
Monday, October 13, 2008
A weekend of firsts
This was definitely a weekend of firsts. Zach's paternal grandfather was in town and we went for our first hike with Zach! We went to Castle Rock State Park and did a short 1.6 mile hike. I continue to be amazed at how out of shape I am, but I made it through the hike ok. It has rekindled my desire to get back out and explore the trails in the area. Zach seemed to enjoy himself. He looked around a bit, but mostly he slept.
Our next big first of the weekend was leaving Zach with a sitter! In this instance, the sitter was my cousin Corinne. We had plans for an evening on the town in San Francisco. We left Zach with Corinne around 3pm.
I was surprised that when I handed Zach over to Corinne, I got a bit choked up. Once we were in the car and headed into the city I was ok, but for a moment I thought I might actually cry! I'm proud to say I didn't call to check on Zach once! Of course, I didn't have to... Corinne was awesome and provided pictures and text messages to my cell phone throughout the evening. It was great! Zach was never far from my mind the entire evening and it was fun to get the updates.
One surprise we had was how much Zach ate! I prepared two 4.5 ounce bottles of expressed milk, thinking that would be plenty. I thought we'd have a few ounces leftover. Zach downed those and went on to eat another 6 ounces of formula! Perhaps he knew how much mom and dad were drinking and he wanted in on the fun...
Here is the progression of pictures Corinne sent me.
We picked up Zach around 10pm. He was completely zonked and he slept until 4 this morning. Thank you so much to Corinne for providing a fantastic evening of babysitting!
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Zach's Birth
When Zach was born, I really wanted to sit down and write about the experience so I wouldn't forget anything that happened. Life got in the way of that plan and I am just now sitting down, 3 months later, to document my memories of Zach's birth.
It was no secret to anyone how uncomfortable I was getting towards the end of the pregnancy. I was diagnosed with placenta previa fairly early in the pregnancy. As we got towards the end, the previa continued, which led to me being on a modified bedrest. I didn't take to that too well. On June 17 I noticed a difference with my pregnancy, went to see the OB and she confirmed that my body had started down the path towards labor. One last ultrasound indicated the previa was still not resolved and thus I was scheduled for a c-section a day and a half later, on June 19th. Zach's due date was July 20th. My nervousness about having Zach a month early was overshadowed by the excitement that I was finally going to meet him.
I spent the next day and a half in bed, in a daze. I researched what I could about having a child arrive a month early. Surprisingly, I didn't find out too much. The OB had said Zach might have some problems breathing. In hindsight, I really wish I'd pressed the OB for more information and also for alternative routes we could have taken. However, ultimately we have a beautiful, healthy baby boy.
The night before the c-section, the anesthesiologist called to go over my medical history. I tried to joke around a bit on the phone, but my attempts at humor fell on deaf ears - a sign of things to come! The morning of the c-section I awoke early to have my last meal before the surgery --- I think I ate two bagels and had some water. (Bagels were about all I was keeping down towards the end - morning sickness can indeed come back in the third trimester.) Trying to get back to sleep was next to impossible. I kept saying things like "In 8 hours I'm going to meet my son!" Our house was still under construction and the work crew showed up at 7am. Tom and I were pretty much already packed, so we spent the morning trying to keep ourselves busy. I remember sitting on the couch with Tom, just willing the time to pass so we could leave for the hospital. Coincidentally, the day of c-section, Tom's mother was scheduled to visit us. She was out here teaching and had arranged to visit us for a few days before flying back to Wisconsin. I think she got a bit more of an exciting visit than she had anticipated! When she arrived at our house, we threw her bags in the car and left for the hospital. My parents were driving up from San Diego and would meet us at the hospital.
Zach was born in a small community hospital about 2 miles from our house. We had been to the hospital's maternity ward twice before - once when I had preterm labor in my 2nd trimester, and just a few days earlier in the week for a nonstress test. When we showed up for the c-section I went up to the desk and said "Hi, I'm here to have a baby". They knew who I was and immediately whisked me into a labor and delivery room. It was a nice large room, bright and warm. My parents showed up shortly after we did and there was much excitement. I was prepped for surgery, which seemed to involve more paperwork than anything else. Tom, who has vasal vega, had to leave the room for the insertion of the IV. While he was out of the room I warned the nurse and the anesthesiologist that I was concerned about Tom passing out during the operation. The anesthesiologist, who was this elderly, gruff doctor, tried to tell me that Tom shouldn't be in the room. I ignored him.
Once all the preparations were done, it was time to move to the surgical suite. I said goodbye to everyone and the nurse walked me to the operating room. I went from this excited, happy environment to a cold, sterile one. I hadn't ever stopped to think about the actual c-section - what it would involve, etc. The moment we walked into the operating room I was washed in absolute dread and fear. The nurse helped me up on the table and then left. All around me were people prepping for the surgery, but it was like I wasn't even there. A nurse came over to hold me while the spinal block was administered. She put her hands on my shoulders and pushed against me to keep me steady. I admit I was absolutely terrified. I told her I was ok, but I kept thinking over and over that I could die during the surgery. Had I actually stopped to think about the surgery beforehand, I don't think this is the reaction I would have imagined having. The anesthesiologist, as I mentioned, was pretty gruff. He kept shoving my back and ended up poking needles into my spine 5 times. He seemed somewhat unorganized - kept asking for a nurse to bring him stuff out of his cart that he had forgotten. To me, it seemed like getting the spinal block took a lot longer than necessary. Each needle into my spine was an excruciating sensation. However, once the drugs started to flow I immediately was numb from the waist down. I couldn't even swing my legs onto the table - they had to do that for me. Once they had me laying down on the table, I started to get very dizzy. I yelled out to someone, anyone, that I felt ill. The anesthesiologist administered some medicine into my IV. It was several minutes before the dizziness passed. My doctor came over to me and said something about me finally getting the color back in my face. I hadn't even realized she was in the room.
They put the blue curtain up and away they went. I kept craning my neck to the door, looking for Tom. I think I mumbled something asking where my husband was. He finally appeared and I remember just being so worried he was going to pass out. (He has passed out on me twice before - once getting a tetanus shot and another time at the gym.) I remember being completely focused on his not passing out, and not paying much attention to the fact that I was having a baby! Tom took some photos of us while they were operating on me. After what seemed like forever, I heard my OB say something about our baby possibly being a redhead. A few seconds later I heard this very gurgly cry and someone saying it was a boy. I was still looking at Tom and he got a huge smile on his face. I started to feel panicked again - Zach's gurgly cries sounded like he was drowning.
Because Zach was premature, there was a neonatologist in the delivery room. She immediately took Zach and assessed him. After a few minutes they invited Tom over to meet Zach. He walked over, being very careful not to look anywhere near my abdomen for fear of what he would see!
Tom was off in the corner with the baby and the doctors were busy finishing up my surgery. I remember feeling lonely - I wanted to meet my son and I was scared because I wasn't hearing him cry. I asked the anesthesiologist if my son was ok and he very gruffly said "Yeah, he's fine". No warm fuzzies there.
The neonatologist brought Zach over to me for about 20 seconds. I got to kiss him, say hello and tell him I loved him, then they whisked him off to the NICU. Tom told me he was going with the baby and off they went. For what seemed like forever I was in the operating room by myself, with the doctors. Before, during and after the operation I remember hearing people counting over and over. They were counting tools and sponges. There were 17 items. Every time one person would reach 17, another person would start counting. There were 3 counters. And they did a LOT of counting. I remember that more vividly than just about any other aspect of the surgery.
As my OB was sewing me back up, she was talking to the assistant surgeon about assembling Ikea furniture. This struck me as absolutely surreal. To them, it was just another day at the office --- chitchat included. (It did strike a bit of fear in my heart that these people were rearranging my innards, yet they were discussing how challenging Ikea furniture is to assemble.) The asst surgeon and the anesthesiologist discussed their ages - the asst was 73 and the anesthesiologist was 75.
My doctor told me the placenta previa was "as advertised", meaning the placenta was covering the cervix. She advised me to have a c-section for any future babies.
Next I was wheeled into recovery. I was the only person there. The nurse who had been with me all day was back and monitoring me. I could not stop shaking - my whole body was shaking uncontrollably and she kept piling blankets on me. This can be a normal reaction to the surgery. Apparently, though, I was forgetting to breathe and she kept reminding me to do so. My blood pressure went down to 50/30 and the anesthesiologist shot me with epinephrine 3 times to try to get my blood pressure back up. Tom said it was actually a faulty blood pressure cuff - when they changed it out, my blood pressure was actually 160 over something, from all the epinephrine. To me, I was in recovery for about 20 minutes or so. Several weeks after the surgery, Tom told me it was actually 3-4 hours. This still boggles my mind. I do remember Tom, my parents, Tom's mom and some friends stopping by. Tom showed me pictures of Zach on our camera. Also, once everyone was gathered I told the group what we named the baby. (This had been our big secret.) I spoke with my sister and some friends on the phone, all of which I vaguely remember. I asked over and over again to see my baby.
Zach, during all of this, was in the NICU. They had put him on an oxygen hood in an isolette. That wasn't getting enough oxygen into him, so they put him on a ventilator. He also had an IV in his foot. Over the course of the next day they were able to wean him off the ventilator. When the neonatologist came in to check on him, Zach had removed the ventilator from his nose and was holding it in his hand. Since no alarms had gone off, they decided he no longer needed it.
While in recovery, I remember at one point looking up and seeing my parents, Tom and Tom's mom all staring at me. I told them all to go and eat. While they were at dinner, I was moved from recovery to my postpartum room. I kept asking to see Zach and they told me he was in the NICU. The nurse arranged for me to see him through the NICU window as I was wheeled to my room. They set up a mirror so I could see him in the isolette. Between the ventilator and all the wires, all I could really see was this pink blob with some feet sticking out. It was so hard not to be able to hold him.
During my surgery, a pain pump had been put in to deliver pain medicine continually to the incision. However, when the spinal wore off, I was in intense pain. The nurses gave me morphine shots every 20 minutes, all the while telling me I shouldn't be in pain. After several hours and considerable pain, someone thought to check the pain pump. It apparently hadn't been switched on. Once they switched it on, the pain disappeared.
Later that night, after several requests to see Zach, I was finally allowed to go to the NICU. I had feeling back in my legs, so I could move into a wheelchair. We made it down to the NICU and seeing Zach in the isolette was so scary. He looked so small, even though he was 7 pounds 1 ounce! There was a sign on his isolette warning that he couldn't handle any stimuli. I asked his nurse if I could touch him and she pretty much said no. After a few minutes of staring at him through the isolette I just couldn't resist any more and I opened one of the side doors and put a finger on him. He started shaking, just from that touch. It was so hard not to be able to hold him. We gazed at him for a while longer, then they gently kicked us out.
I was terrified while Zach was in the NICU --- what if something was permanently wrong with him because he came early? I kept thinking what if they'd just admitted me to the hospital and delayed the c-section a week to give him more time to grow? It was exhausting and draining not knowing when he'd come home. Tom dealt with this much better than I did. I knew we weren't in nearly the dire circumstances that many parents face, but this was my baby, my situation and it felt overwhelming. I wanted someone to tell us Zach was fine.
Over the next week, Zach got stronger and stronger. The first time I held him I was so scared of hurting him, but I never wanted to put him down. At first he was getting all his nourishment via the IV. I started pumping the night he was born and in a few days my milk came in. We would feed him whatever I pumped, attempt to breastfeed and then supplement the rest with formula. I very much wanted to breastfeed and all the books make it sound like if your baby ever has formula he will never eat breastmilk again. However, due to his premature arrival, he wasn't strong enough yet to feed entirely at the breast. The requirements for his discharge were for him to maintain his own temperature (he did that almost immediately), gain weight (that took a bit of work) and eat at least 2 ounces of formula in less than half an hour. Every three hours Tom and I would go to the NICU to feed him. We'd start out with me attempting to breasfteed, then Tom would feed him the prepared formula. Looking back, I think they held Zach longer than necessary. It felt like we were force feeding him the bottles. In their 2 ounce calculation, they never took in to account whatever breastmilk he was getting from me.
After the first few days in the hospital, I became really upset that Zach wasn't in the room with me, like all the other moms in the hospital. I hated having to get up every 3 hours and go to the NICU. I just wanted him in the room with us. I wanted to hold him, have him fall asleep in my arms, feed him in private, etc. It was really hard, emotionally, to be separated from him so much. A few nights postpartum, everyone was out to dinner. I had said that was fine, because I was looking forward to a moment or two to myself. I got myself into the bathroom to take my first shower since the surgery. I turned on the shower and the most pathetic little drops of water started coming out. This was as good as it got. I got in the shower and realized I couldn't even wash my hair because the water pressure was so low. I burst into tears and just stood there in the shower, sobbing. I couldn't make the tears stop. The post-pregnancy hormones, combined with Zach being in the NICU and the uncertainty of not knowing when he'd be released, led me to just lose it. I got out of the shower and called Tom and told him I needed him to come back to be with me.
The day after Zach was born I remember being completely stunned when one of his nurses told me he would need to eat every 3 hours. I'm SURE I learned this in one of the classes we took. How this never sunk in is beyond me. It felt like we would wake up, go to the NICU, change and feed Zach, go back to our hospital room and have to do it all over again in less than 2 hours. It was exhausting.
After 6 days the neonatologist said Zach could stay another night or go home, it was really our decision. The night before, Zach had briefly desatted, so she said they'd keep him another day, just to be sure. That evening we went out with my parents for a little celebratory dinner. (I had been released from the hospital. However, since Zach was still in the NICU they let me stay in my hospital room for free, so I could feed him every 3 hours. This was an amazing service the hospital offered. They even gave me free meals.) While we were out to dinner, Zach's nurse called saying she needed us back at the hospital ASAP. We rushed back and she said there had been some confusion about Zach's eating schedule and we had to feed him immediately. She went on to tell us that Zach might need to get a feeding tube. We went from elation that he was finally coming home, to terror that something was wrong with him. I cried so much that night and barely slept. Tom and I were on pins and needles the next day, waiting for the neonatologist. She stopped into our room midmorning and said Zach was ready to go home. We were stunned. We asked about the feeding tube and she had no idea what we were talking about. We told her what the nurse said and she told us the nurse was mistaken. Zach was cleared to go home.
I'm not sure a hospital room has ever been packed up so quickly. Our bags were packed and in the car within moments and we just waited for Zach to be released. I was positively giddy when we went to get him from the NICU. He looked dwarfed in his carseat, but he was finally coming home! It was a slow drive home, but we finally had our son, who aside from being a month early, is a happy, healthy and beautiful boy!
It was no secret to anyone how uncomfortable I was getting towards the end of the pregnancy. I was diagnosed with placenta previa fairly early in the pregnancy. As we got towards the end, the previa continued, which led to me being on a modified bedrest. I didn't take to that too well. On June 17 I noticed a difference with my pregnancy, went to see the OB and she confirmed that my body had started down the path towards labor. One last ultrasound indicated the previa was still not resolved and thus I was scheduled for a c-section a day and a half later, on June 19th. Zach's due date was July 20th. My nervousness about having Zach a month early was overshadowed by the excitement that I was finally going to meet him.
I spent the next day and a half in bed, in a daze. I researched what I could about having a child arrive a month early. Surprisingly, I didn't find out too much. The OB had said Zach might have some problems breathing. In hindsight, I really wish I'd pressed the OB for more information and also for alternative routes we could have taken. However, ultimately we have a beautiful, healthy baby boy.
The night before the c-section, the anesthesiologist called to go over my medical history. I tried to joke around a bit on the phone, but my attempts at humor fell on deaf ears - a sign of things to come! The morning of the c-section I awoke early to have my last meal before the surgery --- I think I ate two bagels and had some water. (Bagels were about all I was keeping down towards the end - morning sickness can indeed come back in the third trimester.) Trying to get back to sleep was next to impossible. I kept saying things like "In 8 hours I'm going to meet my son!" Our house was still under construction and the work crew showed up at 7am. Tom and I were pretty much already packed, so we spent the morning trying to keep ourselves busy. I remember sitting on the couch with Tom, just willing the time to pass so we could leave for the hospital. Coincidentally, the day of c-section, Tom's mother was scheduled to visit us. She was out here teaching and had arranged to visit us for a few days before flying back to Wisconsin. I think she got a bit more of an exciting visit than she had anticipated! When she arrived at our house, we threw her bags in the car and left for the hospital. My parents were driving up from San Diego and would meet us at the hospital.
Zach was born in a small community hospital about 2 miles from our house. We had been to the hospital's maternity ward twice before - once when I had preterm labor in my 2nd trimester, and just a few days earlier in the week for a nonstress test. When we showed up for the c-section I went up to the desk and said "Hi, I'm here to have a baby". They knew who I was and immediately whisked me into a labor and delivery room. It was a nice large room, bright and warm. My parents showed up shortly after we did and there was much excitement. I was prepped for surgery, which seemed to involve more paperwork than anything else. Tom, who has vasal vega, had to leave the room for the insertion of the IV. While he was out of the room I warned the nurse and the anesthesiologist that I was concerned about Tom passing out during the operation. The anesthesiologist, who was this elderly, gruff doctor, tried to tell me that Tom shouldn't be in the room. I ignored him.
Once all the preparations were done, it was time to move to the surgical suite. I said goodbye to everyone and the nurse walked me to the operating room. I went from this excited, happy environment to a cold, sterile one. I hadn't ever stopped to think about the actual c-section - what it would involve, etc. The moment we walked into the operating room I was washed in absolute dread and fear. The nurse helped me up on the table and then left. All around me were people prepping for the surgery, but it was like I wasn't even there. A nurse came over to hold me while the spinal block was administered. She put her hands on my shoulders and pushed against me to keep me steady. I admit I was absolutely terrified. I told her I was ok, but I kept thinking over and over that I could die during the surgery. Had I actually stopped to think about the surgery beforehand, I don't think this is the reaction I would have imagined having. The anesthesiologist, as I mentioned, was pretty gruff. He kept shoving my back and ended up poking needles into my spine 5 times. He seemed somewhat unorganized - kept asking for a nurse to bring him stuff out of his cart that he had forgotten. To me, it seemed like getting the spinal block took a lot longer than necessary. Each needle into my spine was an excruciating sensation. However, once the drugs started to flow I immediately was numb from the waist down. I couldn't even swing my legs onto the table - they had to do that for me. Once they had me laying down on the table, I started to get very dizzy. I yelled out to someone, anyone, that I felt ill. The anesthesiologist administered some medicine into my IV. It was several minutes before the dizziness passed. My doctor came over to me and said something about me finally getting the color back in my face. I hadn't even realized she was in the room.
They put the blue curtain up and away they went. I kept craning my neck to the door, looking for Tom. I think I mumbled something asking where my husband was. He finally appeared and I remember just being so worried he was going to pass out. (He has passed out on me twice before - once getting a tetanus shot and another time at the gym.) I remember being completely focused on his not passing out, and not paying much attention to the fact that I was having a baby! Tom took some photos of us while they were operating on me. After what seemed like forever, I heard my OB say something about our baby possibly being a redhead. A few seconds later I heard this very gurgly cry and someone saying it was a boy. I was still looking at Tom and he got a huge smile on his face. I started to feel panicked again - Zach's gurgly cries sounded like he was drowning.
Because Zach was premature, there was a neonatologist in the delivery room. She immediately took Zach and assessed him. After a few minutes they invited Tom over to meet Zach. He walked over, being very careful not to look anywhere near my abdomen for fear of what he would see!
Tom was off in the corner with the baby and the doctors were busy finishing up my surgery. I remember feeling lonely - I wanted to meet my son and I was scared because I wasn't hearing him cry. I asked the anesthesiologist if my son was ok and he very gruffly said "Yeah, he's fine". No warm fuzzies there.
The neonatologist brought Zach over to me for about 20 seconds. I got to kiss him, say hello and tell him I loved him, then they whisked him off to the NICU. Tom told me he was going with the baby and off they went. For what seemed like forever I was in the operating room by myself, with the doctors. Before, during and after the operation I remember hearing people counting over and over. They were counting tools and sponges. There were 17 items. Every time one person would reach 17, another person would start counting. There were 3 counters. And they did a LOT of counting. I remember that more vividly than just about any other aspect of the surgery.
As my OB was sewing me back up, she was talking to the assistant surgeon about assembling Ikea furniture. This struck me as absolutely surreal. To them, it was just another day at the office --- chitchat included. (It did strike a bit of fear in my heart that these people were rearranging my innards, yet they were discussing how challenging Ikea furniture is to assemble.) The asst surgeon and the anesthesiologist discussed their ages - the asst was 73 and the anesthesiologist was 75.
My doctor told me the placenta previa was "as advertised", meaning the placenta was covering the cervix. She advised me to have a c-section for any future babies.
Next I was wheeled into recovery. I was the only person there. The nurse who had been with me all day was back and monitoring me. I could not stop shaking - my whole body was shaking uncontrollably and she kept piling blankets on me. This can be a normal reaction to the surgery. Apparently, though, I was forgetting to breathe and she kept reminding me to do so. My blood pressure went down to 50/30 and the anesthesiologist shot me with epinephrine 3 times to try to get my blood pressure back up. Tom said it was actually a faulty blood pressure cuff - when they changed it out, my blood pressure was actually 160 over something, from all the epinephrine. To me, I was in recovery for about 20 minutes or so. Several weeks after the surgery, Tom told me it was actually 3-4 hours. This still boggles my mind. I do remember Tom, my parents, Tom's mom and some friends stopping by. Tom showed me pictures of Zach on our camera. Also, once everyone was gathered I told the group what we named the baby. (This had been our big secret.) I spoke with my sister and some friends on the phone, all of which I vaguely remember. I asked over and over again to see my baby.
Zach, during all of this, was in the NICU. They had put him on an oxygen hood in an isolette. That wasn't getting enough oxygen into him, so they put him on a ventilator. He also had an IV in his foot. Over the course of the next day they were able to wean him off the ventilator. When the neonatologist came in to check on him, Zach had removed the ventilator from his nose and was holding it in his hand. Since no alarms had gone off, they decided he no longer needed it.
While in recovery, I remember at one point looking up and seeing my parents, Tom and Tom's mom all staring at me. I told them all to go and eat. While they were at dinner, I was moved from recovery to my postpartum room. I kept asking to see Zach and they told me he was in the NICU. The nurse arranged for me to see him through the NICU window as I was wheeled to my room. They set up a mirror so I could see him in the isolette. Between the ventilator and all the wires, all I could really see was this pink blob with some feet sticking out. It was so hard not to be able to hold him.
During my surgery, a pain pump had been put in to deliver pain medicine continually to the incision. However, when the spinal wore off, I was in intense pain. The nurses gave me morphine shots every 20 minutes, all the while telling me I shouldn't be in pain. After several hours and considerable pain, someone thought to check the pain pump. It apparently hadn't been switched on. Once they switched it on, the pain disappeared.
Later that night, after several requests to see Zach, I was finally allowed to go to the NICU. I had feeling back in my legs, so I could move into a wheelchair. We made it down to the NICU and seeing Zach in the isolette was so scary. He looked so small, even though he was 7 pounds 1 ounce! There was a sign on his isolette warning that he couldn't handle any stimuli. I asked his nurse if I could touch him and she pretty much said no. After a few minutes of staring at him through the isolette I just couldn't resist any more and I opened one of the side doors and put a finger on him. He started shaking, just from that touch. It was so hard not to be able to hold him. We gazed at him for a while longer, then they gently kicked us out.
I was terrified while Zach was in the NICU --- what if something was permanently wrong with him because he came early? I kept thinking what if they'd just admitted me to the hospital and delayed the c-section a week to give him more time to grow? It was exhausting and draining not knowing when he'd come home. Tom dealt with this much better than I did. I knew we weren't in nearly the dire circumstances that many parents face, but this was my baby, my situation and it felt overwhelming. I wanted someone to tell us Zach was fine.
Over the next week, Zach got stronger and stronger. The first time I held him I was so scared of hurting him, but I never wanted to put him down. At first he was getting all his nourishment via the IV. I started pumping the night he was born and in a few days my milk came in. We would feed him whatever I pumped, attempt to breastfeed and then supplement the rest with formula. I very much wanted to breastfeed and all the books make it sound like if your baby ever has formula he will never eat breastmilk again. However, due to his premature arrival, he wasn't strong enough yet to feed entirely at the breast. The requirements for his discharge were for him to maintain his own temperature (he did that almost immediately), gain weight (that took a bit of work) and eat at least 2 ounces of formula in less than half an hour. Every three hours Tom and I would go to the NICU to feed him. We'd start out with me attempting to breasfteed, then Tom would feed him the prepared formula. Looking back, I think they held Zach longer than necessary. It felt like we were force feeding him the bottles. In their 2 ounce calculation, they never took in to account whatever breastmilk he was getting from me.
After the first few days in the hospital, I became really upset that Zach wasn't in the room with me, like all the other moms in the hospital. I hated having to get up every 3 hours and go to the NICU. I just wanted him in the room with us. I wanted to hold him, have him fall asleep in my arms, feed him in private, etc. It was really hard, emotionally, to be separated from him so much. A few nights postpartum, everyone was out to dinner. I had said that was fine, because I was looking forward to a moment or two to myself. I got myself into the bathroom to take my first shower since the surgery. I turned on the shower and the most pathetic little drops of water started coming out. This was as good as it got. I got in the shower and realized I couldn't even wash my hair because the water pressure was so low. I burst into tears and just stood there in the shower, sobbing. I couldn't make the tears stop. The post-pregnancy hormones, combined with Zach being in the NICU and the uncertainty of not knowing when he'd be released, led me to just lose it. I got out of the shower and called Tom and told him I needed him to come back to be with me.
The day after Zach was born I remember being completely stunned when one of his nurses told me he would need to eat every 3 hours. I'm SURE I learned this in one of the classes we took. How this never sunk in is beyond me. It felt like we would wake up, go to the NICU, change and feed Zach, go back to our hospital room and have to do it all over again in less than 2 hours. It was exhausting.
After 6 days the neonatologist said Zach could stay another night or go home, it was really our decision. The night before, Zach had briefly desatted, so she said they'd keep him another day, just to be sure. That evening we went out with my parents for a little celebratory dinner. (I had been released from the hospital. However, since Zach was still in the NICU they let me stay in my hospital room for free, so I could feed him every 3 hours. This was an amazing service the hospital offered. They even gave me free meals.) While we were out to dinner, Zach's nurse called saying she needed us back at the hospital ASAP. We rushed back and she said there had been some confusion about Zach's eating schedule and we had to feed him immediately. She went on to tell us that Zach might need to get a feeding tube. We went from elation that he was finally coming home, to terror that something was wrong with him. I cried so much that night and barely slept. Tom and I were on pins and needles the next day, waiting for the neonatologist. She stopped into our room midmorning and said Zach was ready to go home. We were stunned. We asked about the feeding tube and she had no idea what we were talking about. We told her what the nurse said and she told us the nurse was mistaken. Zach was cleared to go home.
I'm not sure a hospital room has ever been packed up so quickly. Our bags were packed and in the car within moments and we just waited for Zach to be released. I was positively giddy when we went to get him from the NICU. He looked dwarfed in his carseat, but he was finally coming home! It was a slow drive home, but we finally had our son, who aside from being a month early, is a happy, healthy and beautiful boy!
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