Dear Cora:
Spending your first 9 months with us has been the greatest honor of our lives. It seems like every day now we learn something new about you, as you're able to express it.
You eat so well! You have a willingness to try anything we put in front of you, and you only dislike a few things, like when you tried to take the cauliflower back out of your mouth with your hands. You love sweet potato, banana, cheerios, broccoli, chicken, peas, and many other things. I'm so happy you like broccoli! You can pick up almost anything and put it in your mouth, which is both wonderful and terrifying, especially with those two bottom teeth to use. You don't get as messy as I would have thought, and my favorite new trick is when you put both hands in the air as if you're celebrating dinner with us.
You've started to crawl pretty fast, though you still end up breathing heavy and perspiring after you go hard for a few minutes. The other night we pretended to come after you to tickle you, and you actually tried to crawl away giggling. I hope we always have so much fun. You can pull yourself up to standing, but you don't like to move much after you're there. I caught you at "school" this week leaning against a table, propped on your elbow with your thumb in your mouth, but remaining in a standing position. Those toes work hard to keep you up, and I know you'll only use them more and more.
You can tell us things now, like when you're hungry, when you need a hug, when you need your dad in a very high voice, "Dadadada!" Or when you like mom after nursing, a low, "Mamama." You are very excited when Lucy walks by you - you want to touch her and talk to her as well. You speak whole sentences in your own language, and you sing along with your jammin' syllable: "Yayaya." You drum with your hands on all surfaces.
Your curiosity about everything is the most fun to watch, and you rarely complain about our funny life together.
Love Always,
The Mama & Dada
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Cora sees her hands!
I am bursting with news today - baby Cora has been looking at her hand! She will be doing her little excited baby flailing on the changing table and suddenly fall quiet, eyes intent on her little left fist. So great! She will never remember the time she was unaware of her hands, but it existed, all 10 weeks and 2 days of it. I hope at all the milestones like this, we look back and remember how far we've come.
Photos if I can catch it ...
Photos if I can catch it ...
Friday, December 9, 2011
Adventures in Breastfeeding, Weeks 1-3
Breastfeeding is never something I paid much attention to, which is interesting now, as it constitutes about 1/3 of my days, and the majority of my relationship with little Cora. Luckily, there are experts who recognized my sheer ignorance, and helped me out. Here is my short history with breastfeeding, for those who are interested.
It all started at 4:30am. I was half-conscious in the dim light of C-section recovery, wondering where my baby and husband were. My mom managed to find me, and we were dozing. Nick showed up, and then the baby shortly after. My (amazing) nurse Sophia said that another nurse would be in to help me, well, nurse. She showed up and told me: "You're going to breastfeed now." Okay. Sounds good. Lots of grinding as the hospital bed was raised, and faces from me as I tried to sit up without flexing my abdomen. Un-button the gown, and ta-da! Baby feeding! Nurse Ann was a genius, sitting there for half an hour, making sure the baby ate and I stayed awake. That's pretty much all I remember.
Fast forward 2 days. Baby still eating, but very hard to wake up. Sleeping for 4-5 hours at a stretch, "too long" I am told. "Wake baby up to breastfeed." Sure. I was exhausted and without any abdominal capabilities. Breastmilk was slow to come in. Breasts got very sore. In a moment of weakness in the middle of the night, I called for a nipple shield. What is that, you ask? Click here to see.
Good - less pain, or at least different pain. Baby stopped needing to "latch on" because the shield was already the right shape. She ate easily, and seemed to get enough. Fast forward 2 more days. Still in the hospital - milk came in! Two visits from local lactation consultant T.G. She told me about stopping the use of the shield, and I only half listened (baby is gaining weight, "we are fine" I thought). She suggested a home visit.
November 21st, 5 days postpartum, she visited. She weighed the baby before and after a good feeding, no nipple shield. Said that if I can latch Cora on for a couple of good days, I can throw the nipple shield away! Sounded awesome! Not so easily accomplished.
After using the nipple shield for just a few days, baby Cora was easily frustrated and didn't like to latch on. Breasts got over-full, baby screamed, I used the nipple shield most of the time. Cora got increasingly frustrated the more times I tried to nurse her without it, and I got increasingly frustrated that I would need this prosthetic nipple forever! It was starting to hurt more. I emailed T.G. on December 3rd to tell her that we hadn't yet succeeded. Still struggling. More than 2 weeks postpartum. I also had a friend come over to give me the "it gets better" speech in person. Thanks Sarah!
T.G.'s email back was great - gentle, but firm that she wanted to see us drop the shield. The older babies get, the harder it is to wean them. Bad habits die hard:
"I cannot emphasize enough the importance of getting her off of the nipple shield. When a baby is as old as she is, it is best handled in 1 day over at least two feedings (without the shield) in order for her to "get it" that the shield isn't necessary. I kept checking my messages while out of state to see how you were doing, but made the assumption that you were doing well when I didn't hear from you.
Please consider scheduling a visit with me on Monday or Tuesday. I think it would be most beneficial in your home as it would be best, like I said for two or three feedings in a row. Older babies still on the shield need a little more effort. Do call.
With love, [T.G.]"
I realized then that I had stopped doing the fundamental things recommended to bond with baby: skin contact, taking naps together, and breastfeeding on demand. I had wanted to move too quickly: to already be nursing in public, not having any pain, having mastered a skill. So I started over. Two days mostly in bed, holding Cora, talking and sleeping and singing. Reading. And IT WORKED!! December 5th at 6am, she nursed without the shield. Then all through the day, then all through the week. My dedication to working with her and learning together really paid off, in that we are now nursing full time without the nipple shield, and without much pain. Satchel's pizza was the first place I nursed in public, 22 days postpartum. I am not trying to brag; it's just that I'm still amazed that it worked, a few short days after so much frustration and lying in bed!
Here is what I have learned from the hardest weeks of breastfeeding. The popular conceptions of breastfeeding as a skill, a practice, or a predictable process, are completely false. A woman cannot learn to breastfeed -- she cannot even practice it well. This is because nursing your baby is a relationship. Mother and baby learn together as they grow into their roles as mother and baby. The more I read, the more I realize I missed this in my earlier reading about technique, a good latch, etc. Those things are important, but the relationship is the most important thing. That is what is hardest for me - it requires a lot more investment than a skill, and there are no benchmarks to count on. You can't take an exam to pass to the next phase. This is not the Suzuki method for piano (though sometimes I still wish it were!). In this case, it takes A LOT of time, but nowhere close to the 10,000 hours, Mr. Gladwell.
For further reading I highly recommend "Watch Your Language" by Diane Wiessinger, a study of the cultural perceptions of breastfeeding, and how it affects the actions of new mothers. Part of her conclusion is this:
It all started at 4:30am. I was half-conscious in the dim light of C-section recovery, wondering where my baby and husband were. My mom managed to find me, and we were dozing. Nick showed up, and then the baby shortly after. My (amazing) nurse Sophia said that another nurse would be in to help me, well, nurse. She showed up and told me: "You're going to breastfeed now." Okay. Sounds good. Lots of grinding as the hospital bed was raised, and faces from me as I tried to sit up without flexing my abdomen. Un-button the gown, and ta-da! Baby feeding! Nurse Ann was a genius, sitting there for half an hour, making sure the baby ate and I stayed awake. That's pretty much all I remember.
Fast forward 2 days. Baby still eating, but very hard to wake up. Sleeping for 4-5 hours at a stretch, "too long" I am told. "Wake baby up to breastfeed." Sure. I was exhausted and without any abdominal capabilities. Breastmilk was slow to come in. Breasts got very sore. In a moment of weakness in the middle of the night, I called for a nipple shield. What is that, you ask? Click here to see.
Good - less pain, or at least different pain. Baby stopped needing to "latch on" because the shield was already the right shape. She ate easily, and seemed to get enough. Fast forward 2 more days. Still in the hospital - milk came in! Two visits from local lactation consultant T.G. She told me about stopping the use of the shield, and I only half listened (baby is gaining weight, "we are fine" I thought). She suggested a home visit.
November 21st, 5 days postpartum, she visited. She weighed the baby before and after a good feeding, no nipple shield. Said that if I can latch Cora on for a couple of good days, I can throw the nipple shield away! Sounded awesome! Not so easily accomplished.
After using the nipple shield for just a few days, baby Cora was easily frustrated and didn't like to latch on. Breasts got over-full, baby screamed, I used the nipple shield most of the time. Cora got increasingly frustrated the more times I tried to nurse her without it, and I got increasingly frustrated that I would need this prosthetic nipple forever! It was starting to hurt more. I emailed T.G. on December 3rd to tell her that we hadn't yet succeeded. Still struggling. More than 2 weeks postpartum. I also had a friend come over to give me the "it gets better" speech in person. Thanks Sarah!
T.G.'s email back was great - gentle, but firm that she wanted to see us drop the shield. The older babies get, the harder it is to wean them. Bad habits die hard:
"I cannot emphasize enough the importance of getting her off of the nipple shield. When a baby is as old as she is, it is best handled in 1 day over at least two feedings (without the shield) in order for her to "get it" that the shield isn't necessary. I kept checking my messages while out of state to see how you were doing, but made the assumption that you were doing well when I didn't hear from you.
Please consider scheduling a visit with me on Monday or Tuesday. I think it would be most beneficial in your home as it would be best, like I said for two or three feedings in a row. Older babies still on the shield need a little more effort. Do call.
With love, [T.G.]"
I realized then that I had stopped doing the fundamental things recommended to bond with baby: skin contact, taking naps together, and breastfeeding on demand. I had wanted to move too quickly: to already be nursing in public, not having any pain, having mastered a skill. So I started over. Two days mostly in bed, holding Cora, talking and sleeping and singing. Reading. And IT WORKED!! December 5th at 6am, she nursed without the shield. Then all through the day, then all through the week. My dedication to working with her and learning together really paid off, in that we are now nursing full time without the nipple shield, and without much pain. Satchel's pizza was the first place I nursed in public, 22 days postpartum. I am not trying to brag; it's just that I'm still amazed that it worked, a few short days after so much frustration and lying in bed!
Here is what I have learned from the hardest weeks of breastfeeding. The popular conceptions of breastfeeding as a skill, a practice, or a predictable process, are completely false. A woman cannot learn to breastfeed -- she cannot even practice it well. This is because nursing your baby is a relationship. Mother and baby learn together as they grow into their roles as mother and baby. The more I read, the more I realize I missed this in my earlier reading about technique, a good latch, etc. Those things are important, but the relationship is the most important thing. That is what is hardest for me - it requires a lot more investment than a skill, and there are no benchmarks to count on. You can't take an exam to pass to the next phase. This is not the Suzuki method for piano (though sometimes I still wish it were!). In this case, it takes A LOT of time, but nowhere close to the 10,000 hours, Mr. Gladwell.
For further reading I highly recommend "Watch Your Language" by Diane Wiessinger, a study of the cultural perceptions of breastfeeding, and how it affects the actions of new mothers. Part of her conclusion is this:
Women may say they 'breastfed' for three months, but they usually say they 'nursed' for three years. Easy, long-term breastfeeding involves forgetting about the 'breast' and 'feeding' and focusing instead on the relationship. Let's all tell mothers that we hope they won't 'breastfeed' -- that the real joys and satisfactions of the experience begin when they stop 'breastfeeding' and start mothering at the breast.In addition, here is another good article about the phases of breastfeeding: "Breastfeeding Changes at 3 Months and Beyond" by Jennifer M. MacLoed
Monday, December 5, 2011
Corasaurus comes to life, part 2/2
If you remember from the previous post, it was late afternoon on November 15th. I was in the big tub at the Birth Center, not remembering much, in lots of pain, throwing up into a trash can.
June came in and checked me while I was still in the tub - at 9 cm dilated with some of the cervix still in the way. Try pushing. On my side. Sitting up. Did I feel the urge to push? No. Only pain. Worn out. June had me push while she felt what was happening, trying to push the cervix back. No progress. Did I feel the urge to push yet? No. I asked June: "What is supposed to happen next?" "You push your baby out." I even put my hand down once to feel your little baby head, but I had to reach pretty far. And I wanted to push you out, but you weren't ready, and I was barely keeping it together.
More pain. More throwing up.
There came a moment when I said to June: "What are my options? We need to try something else." I couldn't do it anymore. She said my options were to go to the hospital, or to try and breathe through the contractions for another couple of hours. She encouraged me to breathe through it, that I could do it, that she believed in me. She'd give me and Nick time to talk it over. I think I started to panic; I said I wanted out of there.
She came back and I asked again - I wanted to go. Should I get out of the tub? Put my clothes on? She wanted to give us a few more minutes to talk it over. I began to get impatient. We had already talked, and I wanted out. Sometime in the middle of all this I was alone in the tub, and she was talking it over with the others (Pat, H, and Nick) elsewhere. I remember thinking that if I could just take the next step, whatever it was, that things would get better. I just couldn't keep doing the same thing.
I somehow got out, dried off, put my clothes on, and walked to the car. Nick drove me to Shands, with my mom, June, and H following. It felt like a defeat of sorts, but I knew that something else would happen besides searing pain and throwing up. I knew that someone would help relieve my pain with drugs, and that I might be able to think straight. I had a contraction as I was walking into the hospital, and a lady behind the desk noticed me with my head down on the counter, trying to breathe (Nick was still outside). She asked me if I was okay, and when I told her I was having a contraction, she grabbed a wheelchair. Nick came in and we went straight to the 3rd floor. June was already there with my medical records. I signed a couple of papers and we were in.
I changed into a hospital gown and got into bed. Someone put an IV in and a blood pressure cuff on. Another person tied that ridiculous fetal monitoring belt on, but it kept slipping off. Dr. Buchanan came in and checked me, and we talked. The anesthesiologist came in with the epidural - a spinal shot first to help relieve pain, then the epidural. H was still there, helping me to breathe through contractions while Dr. Buchanan and Sophia (the best nurse I have ever seen) tried to talk to me and Nick. The epidural kicked in. Dr. Buchanan said that the fetal heart rate wasn't exactly stable, but that he would give me a chance to push if I wanted to. I said yes, definitely. Let's do it. Another shot, a second round: this was my shot.
The only problem was that I could no longer feel anything. Little pain, no contractions. They had slowed to every 8 minutes or so, which is not an effective labor pattern. Then came the cascade of things I had read about -- pain, epidural, no feeling, pitocin, more pain, more medication, etc, etc. She put up the pitocin and we pushed, and waited, and pushed and pushed. For an hour. For more time, past the deadline Dr. Buchanan had given. During this time, I did hold off on the epidural and felt some searing pain near my left hip. Incredible pain, hard to take even when "numb."
The official news: you were occipital posterior (OP) or "face up," and asynclitic, or "tilted to the side." When I pushed, your little baby head just tilted more -- didn't move down the birth canal. You were super-stuck, and we were out of options. Dr. Buchanan came back and gave me the news -- we should do a C-section, with my water ruptured for going on 30 hours and no progress. I was disappointed. I was more exhausted than I have ever been. I was still in pain. I wanted to see you. My attitude was poor, and I said to Nick (possibly in front of medical personnel), "Time to go become a statistic."
I was wheeled in to the surgical suite where they pumped me full of lidocaine through the epidural line and tilted me head down in order to get my abdomen numb (and avoid the use of general anesthesia). The anesthesiologist was a young women with a great manner - always talking to me and being honest. I shivered like mad and asked for Nick, who finally came in to hold my hand.
And you, little Cora, were pulled out at 12:39 am on November 16th; I was so happy to hear your little cry after 8 long months of waiting!
June came in and checked me while I was still in the tub - at 9 cm dilated with some of the cervix still in the way. Try pushing. On my side. Sitting up. Did I feel the urge to push? No. Only pain. Worn out. June had me push while she felt what was happening, trying to push the cervix back. No progress. Did I feel the urge to push yet? No. I asked June: "What is supposed to happen next?" "You push your baby out." I even put my hand down once to feel your little baby head, but I had to reach pretty far. And I wanted to push you out, but you weren't ready, and I was barely keeping it together.
More pain. More throwing up.
There came a moment when I said to June: "What are my options? We need to try something else." I couldn't do it anymore. She said my options were to go to the hospital, or to try and breathe through the contractions for another couple of hours. She encouraged me to breathe through it, that I could do it, that she believed in me. She'd give me and Nick time to talk it over. I think I started to panic; I said I wanted out of there.
She came back and I asked again - I wanted to go. Should I get out of the tub? Put my clothes on? She wanted to give us a few more minutes to talk it over. I began to get impatient. We had already talked, and I wanted out. Sometime in the middle of all this I was alone in the tub, and she was talking it over with the others (Pat, H, and Nick) elsewhere. I remember thinking that if I could just take the next step, whatever it was, that things would get better. I just couldn't keep doing the same thing.
I somehow got out, dried off, put my clothes on, and walked to the car. Nick drove me to Shands, with my mom, June, and H following. It felt like a defeat of sorts, but I knew that something else would happen besides searing pain and throwing up. I knew that someone would help relieve my pain with drugs, and that I might be able to think straight. I had a contraction as I was walking into the hospital, and a lady behind the desk noticed me with my head down on the counter, trying to breathe (Nick was still outside). She asked me if I was okay, and when I told her I was having a contraction, she grabbed a wheelchair. Nick came in and we went straight to the 3rd floor. June was already there with my medical records. I signed a couple of papers and we were in.
I changed into a hospital gown and got into bed. Someone put an IV in and a blood pressure cuff on. Another person tied that ridiculous fetal monitoring belt on, but it kept slipping off. Dr. Buchanan came in and checked me, and we talked. The anesthesiologist came in with the epidural - a spinal shot first to help relieve pain, then the epidural. H was still there, helping me to breathe through contractions while Dr. Buchanan and Sophia (the best nurse I have ever seen) tried to talk to me and Nick. The epidural kicked in. Dr. Buchanan said that the fetal heart rate wasn't exactly stable, but that he would give me a chance to push if I wanted to. I said yes, definitely. Let's do it. Another shot, a second round: this was my shot.
The only problem was that I could no longer feel anything. Little pain, no contractions. They had slowed to every 8 minutes or so, which is not an effective labor pattern. Then came the cascade of things I had read about -- pain, epidural, no feeling, pitocin, more pain, more medication, etc, etc. She put up the pitocin and we pushed, and waited, and pushed and pushed. For an hour. For more time, past the deadline Dr. Buchanan had given. During this time, I did hold off on the epidural and felt some searing pain near my left hip. Incredible pain, hard to take even when "numb."
The official news: you were occipital posterior (OP) or "face up," and asynclitic, or "tilted to the side." When I pushed, your little baby head just tilted more -- didn't move down the birth canal. You were super-stuck, and we were out of options. Dr. Buchanan came back and gave me the news -- we should do a C-section, with my water ruptured for going on 30 hours and no progress. I was disappointed. I was more exhausted than I have ever been. I was still in pain. I wanted to see you. My attitude was poor, and I said to Nick (possibly in front of medical personnel), "Time to go become a statistic."
I was wheeled in to the surgical suite where they pumped me full of lidocaine through the epidural line and tilted me head down in order to get my abdomen numb (and avoid the use of general anesthesia). The anesthesiologist was a young women with a great manner - always talking to me and being honest. I shivered like mad and asked for Nick, who finally came in to hold my hand.
And you, little Cora, were pulled out at 12:39 am on November 16th; I was so happy to hear your little cry after 8 long months of waiting!
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