Monday, January 26, 2015
And so it begins.
Recently, I've been going back and forth on whether or not to share this part of our lives. Maybe it's TMI for some? Maybe it's boring for some, or maybe a good majority can't relate to it? Then I had overwhelming thoughts of "maybe I could help someone" or "maybe I can make a friend along the way going through the same thing", or even "maybe someone can help me."
We have been diagnosed with secondary infertility. Unexplained infertility at that. This means there is no scientific reason as to why we haven't been able to achieve pregnancy yet. We were easily able to conceive before. However, now either the stars aren't aligning, or something is just saying "nope. no can do." and they can't figure out why it's not happening. For some women, they do not ovulate. For some men, their sperm count is low. For some couples its a combination of the two. Sometimes it's an anatomical reason, and sometimes it's alllll out of whack hormones. All of our tests have checked out fine.
This summer, I went to my OBGYN just to get some insight as we had been trying/not preventing for several months. I told her that it was a piece of cake to conceive before. Literally a wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Twice, actually. I told her my cycles were irregular and she ran some tests and ordered an ultrasound to check out what was going on. All of my labs came back great. My ultrasound showed a 3cm functional/simple cyst on my left ovary. The tech and my OB chalked it up to being a follicle growing (to release an egg) or just an ordinary cyst. She ruled out PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) and told me to come back for another check if the cyst started causing any pain. Dr. G also rattled off some statistics that really eased my mind regarding statistics and when I should "technically" be pregnant. She gave me a hug and gave me a number to call in December if I still was not pregnant.
The months went on by. Month after month, negative after negative. Tears after tears.
December rolled on by. I looked at the number she had written down on my lab results, and it was for the infertility institute. I talked to Mark about it, and while he was reluctant at first because he didn't think there was an issue, we agreed we would go do whatever tests needed even to aid in peace of mind. I called the number, and just didn't get a welcoming vibe from the receptionist. It was all about money right from the beginning. I text messaged one of my sweet friends and asked for her experience with another infertility clinic, which she talked me into immediately.
I called the other clinic, and had this overwhelming sense of optimism after talking to the receptionist there. She was so warm, friendly, and accommodating. She set my intake appointment for January 9th.
I read SO much on so many message boards about how as soon as the infertility appointment was made, the woman ended up getting pregnant. I tracked, I temped, I peed on so many sticks, and it was negative. Again. No such luck for me.
January 9th: I go to the RE (reproductive endocrinologist/fertility doc). I have all my labwork, ultrasound of the cyst, my medical history, everything ready. I even printed out all 9 of my fertility friend charts that I had started in March. I sat, nervously, waiting to be called, wondering what these other ladies' stories were. How did they get there? Had they endured the same heart break as me? Perhaps more heartbreak as I already have one child? I don't know. But my heart was with them. Inspirational quotes line are framed in the office, are scrolling along as the screensaver on the ultrasound machines in the exam rooms, and there are birth announcements lining the walls. Those were all miracle babies!
I met with the PA. She is amazing. She looked at my charts, my history, my labs, everything. She made sure I was still with the same partner, went over my birth, etc. She said "I don't have a clue." You're ovulating, you're doing everything "right", your labs show you're healthy. She assured me that secondary infertility is more common than I think. She said she would venture to guess that 1 in 8-10 couples go on to have infertility issues after having their first, second, third, etc child. She told me which tests she wanted me to have. An HSG to make sure I didn't have adhesions from my cesarean and that my tubes were open and clear. I then asked "what if that comes back clear?" Doc told me that she starts with this:
Clomid at the beginning of my cycle, followed by an IUI at ovulation. She said she really recommended the IUI because it places the swimmers right where they need to be. In case, you know, they got lost the regular way. I was then told that there was typically a 40% success rate and a 10% chance of multiples.
She then took me into the exam room and gave me an ultrasound and immediately noticed my cyst. The same cyst that had been there since July. Apparently it was the same size as it was back then. Since I was due to start my period in the next day or two, she instructed me to call when it started and schedule another ultrasound to see if it was an ovulatory cyst or just an obnoxious one. I left the office feeling like a million bucks. After so many months of uncertainty, there was finally a plan.
January 10- AF came. I call the office, they scheduled an ultrasound for January 12th.
January 12th: I go in for the follow up ultrasound and it's still there. She gave me a prescription for 5mg of Aygestin (to suppress ovulation) in hopes that that annoying little booger would go away.
So...now we wait! I am 2/3 done with the medication and I am ready to start treatment! We go back this Friday to go over this next cycle's instructions. Hopefully. I'm so tired of the emotions that come with TTC. I just want to complete our family. I want my son to have a little brother or sister to play with!
Fingers crossed that we will get our sweet November baby. Thank you to all my friends and family that know what we are going through, for your love and support!
xoxo Jordan.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Last One Standing.
I am so sorry the blog looks so ridiculous right now. I am HTML challenged and have no clue how to work this blogger thing. So, sorry it's an eyesore!
Anyways.
I joined a couple of Mom's groups when I was pregnant with Beckett. They helped me through my worries, through my anxiety, and through the gross shit like mucus plugs and stretchmarks. We have gotten to know each other through the "highs" and have come together when someone was having a "low". The support is incredible. Those women are some of my best friends. I am so lucky to have them, to guide me, to support me, to love me and B.
They have been exceptionally supportive towards me as of recently. In these groups, there is a portion of these women that started to talk about expanding their families. We talked about it for months. When the time frame came that we started to talk about TTC (trying to conceive) these women were blessed with positives. My heart is full of happiness for them. In my groups, one other person and I are the Last Ones Standing.
What does that mean?
It means we all started "trying" roughly the same time and we have not conceived. The months have gone by. And by. And by.
"What is wrong with me?"
"What if Beckett is my one and only and everything we are experiencing together is the last time?"
"How the hell are we going to afford IVF?"
"I'm not pregnant because all of the slots for that month are full"
All of these thoughts have crossed my mind and I have gone into panic mode. I know they are a bit irrational, but they are my legit thoughts.
Let me explain that last one.
My friend over at the blog "Breathe Gently" explains it the best. Basically, in the given month that my expected due date would fall under if I was to get pregnant that cycle "fills up" with people you know getting their positive tests. It's basic statistics. If you know 4 people who get their positives for lets say, a June due date, then your chances of "grabbing a spot" for that month is gone. Maybe I feel this way because the way that my due dates would fall is always the 26th, 29th, etc. So there's "no room" for me.
It may seem irrational to some, but I know that if I could relate to her "irrational" thoughts, then another woman could too.
It's been a rough six months. I have friends that started out TTC with me that I talked to nearly every day, that have gotten their positive tests and then I guess felt like they had nothing else to talk to me about? It can be lonely.
The most difficult part of this journey is not knowing WHY it's taking longer than it has in the past. I've been pregnant twice and both times I have gotten pregnant easily. Maybe too easily. Maybe now God is making mepay for wait awhile so I feel the pain that so many other women have felt? I don't know.
I do know that test day is coming up for this cycle. I don't have high hopes. honestly. After staring at140 so many tests that are negative, I don't even want to test early like I have done in the past. I'll just wait it out and let nature take its course.
In the mean time, I need to resolve to do a better job with my pregnancy and new baby jealousy. I need to stop comparing my life to others. Nobody's journey is the same. I need to get that through my thick head. I need to stop letting my heart hurt when I get a negative test and not even 16 minutes later there is a pregnancy announcement. It's just hard. I'm so in love with someone I haven't met yet. I had always pictured having my kids' siblings pretty close in age like both my husband and I had growing up. That dream is slowly falling apart. That's what hurts the most, I think.
Anywho, thanks for making it through that.
I don't know why I'm blogging about this, really. Maybe as a vent to feel better. Maybe so I can look back on it when I want nothing but sleep as I'm snuggling M2 in a year or so. Who knows?
Love,
J
Anyways.
I joined a couple of Mom's groups when I was pregnant with Beckett. They helped me through my worries, through my anxiety, and through the gross shit like mucus plugs and stretchmarks. We have gotten to know each other through the "highs" and have come together when someone was having a "low". The support is incredible. Those women are some of my best friends. I am so lucky to have them, to guide me, to support me, to love me and B.
They have been exceptionally supportive towards me as of recently. In these groups, there is a portion of these women that started to talk about expanding their families. We talked about it for months. When the time frame came that we started to talk about TTC (trying to conceive) these women were blessed with positives. My heart is full of happiness for them. In my groups, one other person and I are the Last Ones Standing.
What does that mean?
It means we all started "trying" roughly the same time and we have not conceived. The months have gone by. And by. And by.
"What is wrong with me?"
"What if Beckett is my one and only and everything we are experiencing together is the last time?"
"How the hell are we going to afford IVF?"
"I'm not pregnant because all of the slots for that month are full"
All of these thoughts have crossed my mind and I have gone into panic mode. I know they are a bit irrational, but they are my legit thoughts.
Let me explain that last one.
My friend over at the blog "Breathe Gently" explains it the best. Basically, in the given month that my expected due date would fall under if I was to get pregnant that cycle "fills up" with people you know getting their positive tests. It's basic statistics. If you know 4 people who get their positives for lets say, a June due date, then your chances of "grabbing a spot" for that month is gone. Maybe I feel this way because the way that my due dates would fall is always the 26th, 29th, etc. So there's "no room" for me.
It may seem irrational to some, but I know that if I could relate to her "irrational" thoughts, then another woman could too.
It's been a rough six months. I have friends that started out TTC with me that I talked to nearly every day, that have gotten their positive tests and then I guess felt like they had nothing else to talk to me about? It can be lonely.
The most difficult part of this journey is not knowing WHY it's taking longer than it has in the past. I've been pregnant twice and both times I have gotten pregnant easily. Maybe too easily. Maybe now God is making me
I do know that test day is coming up for this cycle. I don't have high hopes. honestly. After staring at
In the mean time, I need to resolve to do a better job with my pregnancy and new baby jealousy. I need to stop comparing my life to others. Nobody's journey is the same. I need to get that through my thick head. I need to stop letting my heart hurt when I get a negative test and not even 16 minutes later there is a pregnancy announcement. It's just hard. I'm so in love with someone I haven't met yet. I had always pictured having my kids' siblings pretty close in age like both my husband and I had growing up. That dream is slowly falling apart. That's what hurts the most, I think.
Anywho, thanks for making it through that.
I don't know why I'm blogging about this, really. Maybe as a vent to feel better. Maybe so I can look back on it when I want nothing but sleep as I'm snuggling M2 in a year or so. Who knows?
Love,
J
Thursday, October 9, 2014
August 28th, 2013.
I'm going to talk about something really REAL for a minute. Something that doesn't get much attention. Something that new parents aren't typically educated on during their childbirth classes. Something that is so serious, but taboo. It's something that was mocked on an acquaintance of mine's Facebook post last weekend, that really irked me.
Beckett was born on the 26th of August. Like everyone had told me, it was the best day of my life. It's indescribable. The love that you feel when you hold that little pooping machine, is deep. As stated in my previous post, I had an unexpected cesarean section. At that point, I just wanted him out. I was tired. I was hungry. He was stressing out. I had lost a baby prior to Beckett, so really, I just wanted to take our child home healthy.
August 28th was a Wednesday. This is the day err'thing started. I was in pain, counting down the minutes until my next pain pill. I had nurses coming in every 20 minutes for check on me, then Beckett, then empty my trash. I was tired. At around 2 PM, after my mom had left for the afternoon, it hit me. I started sobbing uncontrollably. Why was I crying? I had this beautiful, fat baby that was snuggled on my chest. A baby that had made my dreams come true; a baby that made us parents--OUR DREAM! I couldn't stop. I cried so hard my incision felt like it was tearing. "I love him so much" I would tell my Mark. I did! I loved him SO much. I chalked it up to being overwhelmed. Perhaps the constant in and out of nurses and assistants just doing their jobs. Or maybe it was the lactation consultant making rude remarks because he was losing weight, not latching, and I had no milk. I figured I was just being sensitive, I was overwhelmed, and that this would pass.
We were discharged from the hospital on August 29th around noon, with instructions to come back the next day for a bilirubin check for Beck. He looked like a pumpkin. He was so orange. He was tired, he had no interest in eating. He was born at 8 lb 11 oz. He was discharged at 7 lb 13 oz. I cried. I left the hospital crying. I was already starting to feel like I was failing my son by not being able to feed him. I spent the rest of the day and night offering him what I had (no milk yet) and he was frustrated. I cried. I sobbed.
The next day, we went back to the hospital for his heel stick and weight check. "7 lb 11 oz" the nurse said. "He's lost weight." I had a breakdown.
"I don't know what to do--I have no milk. He wont stay latched because he's not getting anything. Please, please help me."
I met E, one of the sweetest, most helpful ladies that I have met. She was a lactation consultant and she delayed her lunch break to help me. She weighed him before and after a feeding. He had transferred nothing. She taught me techniques and gave me advice that I would have never been educated on without her. At the end of our session, she gave me a huge hug, her phone number, and some formula. Beckett HAD to eat something.
Anyways, as the weeks went on, feeding him was a total fail. I had to pump, then I started producing less and less. I tried supplements, more water, everything. Nada. I dreaded every feeding. I cried all day long. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
At my two week appointment to check my incision, my OB's amazing nurse asked me something that not many people had asked me since Beckett had been born. "How are you doing?" she asked. I broke down. "I think something is wrong with me. I am so sad. All I do is cry." She gave me a tissue and a hug. My OBGYN came in, and asked me the same thing. I started crying again. She asked me if I had a history of depression or anxiety. I told her that the only time I was depressed was after I lost our first baby, and I was anxious my entire pregnancy with Beckett because I thought something was going to go wrong again. Other than that, I had never experienced any mental illness. We talked about my options and I did not want to go the anti depressant/SSRI route. I chose the estrogen patch to help replenish the hormones that my body was missing from not being pregnant. I wore it for a month. Little did I know, that estrogen can depleat your milk supply even more. It was counter active. I talked to my husband and told him (while in tears) that I still felt like a failure. I couldn't deliver my baby the "natural way", I couldn't feed my baby "the way nature intended to", and I wasn't enjoying this stage as much as I should.
At night, when Beckett would wake up in the middle of the night, I loved the snuggles, but would sob and sob. I wasn't tired; he was a pretty good sleeper. I just could not control my emotions. I hated myself. I wondered if Beckett deserved a different mama. Someone who would hold him and not cry while doing it. Someone who could breastfeed him whenever he wanted.
At my 6 week appointment, I broke down again. "It's not helping." She gave me another hug. I told her I was ready to try something else. My OBGYN gave me a prescription for an anti depressant. I felt weak. Like I couldn't handle my emotions. I got it filled and stayed on it for 4 months. I started feeling SO much better.
Please, please new mama, please do not be afraid to ask for help. Do not let anyone tell you that you do not love your baby or that you are a bad mama because you are so sad, feeling defeated, helpless, etc. You do not choose to get PPD. You do not choose those emotions. You are a prisoner in your own mind. Talk to your OB. Talk to your Primary doctor, another mama, your own mama, anyone. You can battle it and you can win! Happy mama--->Happy baby.
Love you and be kind to yourself.
Beckett was born on the 26th of August. Like everyone had told me, it was the best day of my life. It's indescribable. The love that you feel when you hold that little pooping machine, is deep. As stated in my previous post, I had an unexpected cesarean section. At that point, I just wanted him out. I was tired. I was hungry. He was stressing out. I had lost a baby prior to Beckett, so really, I just wanted to take our child home healthy.
August 28th was a Wednesday. This is the day err'thing started. I was in pain, counting down the minutes until my next pain pill. I had nurses coming in every 20 minutes for check on me, then Beckett, then empty my trash. I was tired. At around 2 PM, after my mom had left for the afternoon, it hit me. I started sobbing uncontrollably. Why was I crying? I had this beautiful, fat baby that was snuggled on my chest. A baby that had made my dreams come true; a baby that made us parents--OUR DREAM! I couldn't stop. I cried so hard my incision felt like it was tearing. "I love him so much" I would tell my Mark. I did! I loved him SO much. I chalked it up to being overwhelmed. Perhaps the constant in and out of nurses and assistants just doing their jobs. Or maybe it was the lactation consultant making rude remarks because he was losing weight, not latching, and I had no milk. I figured I was just being sensitive, I was overwhelmed, and that this would pass.
We were discharged from the hospital on August 29th around noon, with instructions to come back the next day for a bilirubin check for Beck. He looked like a pumpkin. He was so orange. He was tired, he had no interest in eating. He was born at 8 lb 11 oz. He was discharged at 7 lb 13 oz. I cried. I left the hospital crying. I was already starting to feel like I was failing my son by not being able to feed him. I spent the rest of the day and night offering him what I had (no milk yet) and he was frustrated. I cried. I sobbed.
The next day, we went back to the hospital for his heel stick and weight check. "7 lb 11 oz" the nurse said. "He's lost weight." I had a breakdown.
"I don't know what to do--I have no milk. He wont stay latched because he's not getting anything. Please, please help me."
I met E, one of the sweetest, most helpful ladies that I have met. She was a lactation consultant and she delayed her lunch break to help me. She weighed him before and after a feeding. He had transferred nothing. She taught me techniques and gave me advice that I would have never been educated on without her. At the end of our session, she gave me a huge hug, her phone number, and some formula. Beckett HAD to eat something.
Anyways, as the weeks went on, feeding him was a total fail. I had to pump, then I started producing less and less. I tried supplements, more water, everything. Nada. I dreaded every feeding. I cried all day long. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
At my two week appointment to check my incision, my OB's amazing nurse asked me something that not many people had asked me since Beckett had been born. "How are you doing?" she asked. I broke down. "I think something is wrong with me. I am so sad. All I do is cry." She gave me a tissue and a hug. My OBGYN came in, and asked me the same thing. I started crying again. She asked me if I had a history of depression or anxiety. I told her that the only time I was depressed was after I lost our first baby, and I was anxious my entire pregnancy with Beckett because I thought something was going to go wrong again. Other than that, I had never experienced any mental illness. We talked about my options and I did not want to go the anti depressant/SSRI route. I chose the estrogen patch to help replenish the hormones that my body was missing from not being pregnant. I wore it for a month. Little did I know, that estrogen can depleat your milk supply even more. It was counter active. I talked to my husband and told him (while in tears) that I still felt like a failure. I couldn't deliver my baby the "natural way", I couldn't feed my baby "the way nature intended to", and I wasn't enjoying this stage as much as I should.
At night, when Beckett would wake up in the middle of the night, I loved the snuggles, but would sob and sob. I wasn't tired; he was a pretty good sleeper. I just could not control my emotions. I hated myself. I wondered if Beckett deserved a different mama. Someone who would hold him and not cry while doing it. Someone who could breastfeed him whenever he wanted.
At my 6 week appointment, I broke down again. "It's not helping." She gave me another hug. I told her I was ready to try something else. My OBGYN gave me a prescription for an anti depressant. I felt weak. Like I couldn't handle my emotions. I got it filled and stayed on it for 4 months. I started feeling SO much better.
Please, please new mama, please do not be afraid to ask for help. Do not let anyone tell you that you do not love your baby or that you are a bad mama because you are so sad, feeling defeated, helpless, etc. You do not choose to get PPD. You do not choose those emotions. You are a prisoner in your own mind. Talk to your OB. Talk to your Primary doctor, another mama, your own mama, anyone. You can battle it and you can win! Happy mama--->Happy baby.
Love you and be kind to yourself.
Sunday, July 13, 2014
You went to bed a baby...
...and woke up a little boy.
Tears are rolling down my cheeks as I write this. Big ol' crocodile tears. I'm not even sure where to start this, but the title says it all. B went to bed a baby and woke up a little boy.
I can't pin point when it happened, but I believe it was last month.
Last month, he started sleeping 8p-6:15a. Sweet, sweet sleep. I had forgotten what solid sleep felt like. The last time I slept through the night before last month, was June 2013, before the every other hour bathroom trips started. Anyways, it has been amazing. I have felt much more refreshed, motivated, and I have felt like the days were finally not a blur. No longer doeshe "need" me 24/7. He is no longer as clingy. He started walking 6/21 and hasn't looked back! He let's me know he's hungry and curls up to me when he wants cuddles for a nap, but other than that, he's a freebird.
No longer does he scream and cry because he woke up when I transfer him from my arms to the crib. I remember thinking to myself as we did Sleep Sense "my God, will this ever pass?" It seemed like an eternity. I remember getting annoyed by the 2:30 AM night waking. That is gone now too.
Tonight was different though. Tonight he woke up crying at 10:45 as Mark and I were crawling into bed. It was a different cry, not his hungry cry. It was an "I need you, mama" cry. I went into his room and picked him up. My sweet boy with his tear-stained cheeks, and he laid his head on my chest. I brought him back to our room and laid him between us like I did when he would refuse to sleep anywhere but my arms or chest. I laid on my side and cradled him close to me. He put his arms around my neck and hugged me close. The baby monitor casted a glow so that I could see him. His eyes were open, looking right into mine. He smiled at me, and I him, and then he closed his eyes and drifted off.
"Soak it all up, honey." Mark whispered to me.
" I am." And I start to cry. "He's never going to love me more than he loves me now. He's going to need me less and less.
As I carry him back to his room, I realize that his legs are dangling way over my arm. When did he get SO big? Where has the time gone? I kiss him, lay him down and leave the room. Suddenly, it all doesn't matter. The night awakenings don't matter anymore. I now realize those were some of my most precious bonding times. All of the clinginess? I kind of miss it. He's getting too busy for me now. I have such guilt for wishing it away, or for hissing to Mark, "why won't he freaking sleep?!" at 3am. He just wanted his mama.
I know there are so many fun times ahead with him for our family, but I just wish there was a pause button on life. Or even a rewind. Who knows if I will get to experience this joy and special, short time again.
New and expecting mamas...the days and nights are long, but the years are so short.
I'll love you forever.
I'll like you for always.
As long as I'm living
My baby you'll be.
Tears are rolling down my cheeks as I write this. Big ol' crocodile tears. I'm not even sure where to start this, but the title says it all. B went to bed a baby and woke up a little boy.
I can't pin point when it happened, but I believe it was last month.
Last month, he started sleeping 8p-6:15a. Sweet, sweet sleep. I had forgotten what solid sleep felt like. The last time I slept through the night before last month, was June 2013, before the every other hour bathroom trips started. Anyways, it has been amazing. I have felt much more refreshed, motivated, and I have felt like the days were finally not a blur. No longer doeshe "need" me 24/7. He is no longer as clingy. He started walking 6/21 and hasn't looked back! He let's me know he's hungry and curls up to me when he wants cuddles for a nap, but other than that, he's a freebird.
No longer does he scream and cry because he woke up when I transfer him from my arms to the crib. I remember thinking to myself as we did Sleep Sense "my God, will this ever pass?" It seemed like an eternity. I remember getting annoyed by the 2:30 AM night waking. That is gone now too.
Tonight was different though. Tonight he woke up crying at 10:45 as Mark and I were crawling into bed. It was a different cry, not his hungry cry. It was an "I need you, mama" cry. I went into his room and picked him up. My sweet boy with his tear-stained cheeks, and he laid his head on my chest. I brought him back to our room and laid him between us like I did when he would refuse to sleep anywhere but my arms or chest. I laid on my side and cradled him close to me. He put his arms around my neck and hugged me close. The baby monitor casted a glow so that I could see him. His eyes were open, looking right into mine. He smiled at me, and I him, and then he closed his eyes and drifted off.
"Soak it all up, honey." Mark whispered to me.
" I am." And I start to cry. "He's never going to love me more than he loves me now. He's going to need me less and less.
As I carry him back to his room, I realize that his legs are dangling way over my arm. When did he get SO big? Where has the time gone? I kiss him, lay him down and leave the room. Suddenly, it all doesn't matter. The night awakenings don't matter anymore. I now realize those were some of my most precious bonding times. All of the clinginess? I kind of miss it. He's getting too busy for me now. I have such guilt for wishing it away, or for hissing to Mark, "why won't he freaking sleep?!" at 3am. He just wanted his mama.
I know there are so many fun times ahead with him for our family, but I just wish there was a pause button on life. Or even a rewind. Who knows if I will get to experience this joy and special, short time again.
New and expecting mamas...the days and nights are long, but the years are so short.
I'll love you forever.
I'll like you for always.
As long as I'm living
My baby you'll be.
Monday, March 17, 2014
A letter to Beckett on his Half Birthday.
Well...We've survived 6 months of parenthood. It has consumed more time, more energy and more patience than I thought was possible. But in exchange, I have experienced more smiles, more love, and more happiness than I ever thought possible. It really is amazing how 8:45 PM on August 26, 2013 changed me. When I have a minute here and there, I go on Pinterest. I saw a cute idea about writing your child a hand-written letter on their birthday every year and putting a $20 bill in an envelope attached to each letter written. Then, you make a binder/book out of the letters and give it to your child at their graduation. That way they have letters to read, money to keep for graduation as they embark on their new journey, and memories. I wondered, "will he care?" He's a boy. You know what 18 year old boys care about? Tits, ass, and cars. Oh, and sports. Is he going to care about these letters I have written him? I don't know. I can only hope he will, maybe not at 18, but someday. Someday, I hope he knows in between me being a pain in his ass, and him being a pain in my ass during those teenage years, how much I truly, truly love him. How much I really am loving being his mom. I just thought I would post this letter. You know, just in case I accidentally leave my flat iron on all day and burn the house down and the letters go "poof".
2/26/2014
Dear Beckett,
Today you are 6 months old! Can you believe it? You've survived first time parents during your most fragile weeks, and we have survived those crazy newborn and little baby months. Six months ago today, I was anxious, oh so anxious. I was shaking. I was so scared and so excited. Would I be a good mom? Would I be able to meet your needs? Would you like me? Would your dad and I make sure you are given everything you could possibly need? What will you look like? Would you have my nose and your daddy's chin? It was scary. At 8:45 PM, we heard your loud cry, and our journey began.
We brought you home, and we started adjusting to our family of three. You slept so good! 3 hours at a time at first, then 4, then 8, then 10! Then we hit 4 months and you were up EVERY two hours. We were tired. You needed us. Many times, I cried along with you because I was so tired. I had to remind myself that you needed me, just as I needed you. Your cry lessened every time we would snuggle; you just want to be close, and that's okay. I would give up all my nights of good sleep for the rest of my life to keep you small, to keep you cuddly, and to keep you my baby.
In these past six months, I have realized that time is not going to slow down. In fact, it feels like it's in fast-forward and I wish I could stop it. You were in newborn clothes for three weeks, 0-3 and 3 month for a month, 3-6 for 2 1/2 months, and now you are in 6-9 that are starting to get small. I get so very sad packing away your tiny clothes that your dad and I picked out for you or were gifted to us for you. Each article I remember washing and hanging in excitement for your arrival. "Oh wow, that is SO big! He won't be that big for a long time!" I remember telling your Mimi when she showed me that 3-6 month overalls she had bought you last April. I packed them away on New Years Day. You won't fit in them ever again. I really struggle emotionally with watching you grow. Everyone told me "enjoy them being little, because it goes by so fast." and I shrugged it off. It's true. Each day, you are getting bigger. Each day, you are learning more, laughing more, and smiling more.
Though I may be sad about you getting bigger, I am so excited for the future. I can't wait to watch you play football with your daddy. He really, REALLY loves you. You are his little buddy. And you sure do love him too. I love watching you get a huge smile and flap your arms in excitement when you hear your daddy walk through the door when he gets home from work and says "I'm home!" The way he picks you up and gives you a big kiss makes you giggly and happy. I can't wait to watch you go down the slide for the first time, or the first time I get to kiss your boo boo. I can't wait to teach you your ABC's, to take family vacations, to give you a sibling to play with, to watch you go to kindergarten, to help you plan the way you will ask a girl to the school dance, and to dance with you on your wedding day. You are my world.
So, Beckett, I want to thank you. Thank you for choosing us to be your parents. Thank you for teaching me patience. Thank you for making me fall even more in love with your dad when I see him with you. Thank you for cuddling me, for being so sweet and for being my boy. I can't wait to see what the next 6 months has in store, and then the years after that.
Love,
Mama.
2/26/2014
Dear Beckett,
Today you are 6 months old! Can you believe it? You've survived first time parents during your most fragile weeks, and we have survived those crazy newborn and little baby months. Six months ago today, I was anxious, oh so anxious. I was shaking. I was so scared and so excited. Would I be a good mom? Would I be able to meet your needs? Would you like me? Would your dad and I make sure you are given everything you could possibly need? What will you look like? Would you have my nose and your daddy's chin? It was scary. At 8:45 PM, we heard your loud cry, and our journey began.
We brought you home, and we started adjusting to our family of three. You slept so good! 3 hours at a time at first, then 4, then 8, then 10! Then we hit 4 months and you were up EVERY two hours. We were tired. You needed us. Many times, I cried along with you because I was so tired. I had to remind myself that you needed me, just as I needed you. Your cry lessened every time we would snuggle; you just want to be close, and that's okay. I would give up all my nights of good sleep for the rest of my life to keep you small, to keep you cuddly, and to keep you my baby.
In these past six months, I have realized that time is not going to slow down. In fact, it feels like it's in fast-forward and I wish I could stop it. You were in newborn clothes for three weeks, 0-3 and 3 month for a month, 3-6 for 2 1/2 months, and now you are in 6-9 that are starting to get small. I get so very sad packing away your tiny clothes that your dad and I picked out for you or were gifted to us for you. Each article I remember washing and hanging in excitement for your arrival. "Oh wow, that is SO big! He won't be that big for a long time!" I remember telling your Mimi when she showed me that 3-6 month overalls she had bought you last April. I packed them away on New Years Day. You won't fit in them ever again. I really struggle emotionally with watching you grow. Everyone told me "enjoy them being little, because it goes by so fast." and I shrugged it off. It's true. Each day, you are getting bigger. Each day, you are learning more, laughing more, and smiling more.
Though I may be sad about you getting bigger, I am so excited for the future. I can't wait to watch you play football with your daddy. He really, REALLY loves you. You are his little buddy. And you sure do love him too. I love watching you get a huge smile and flap your arms in excitement when you hear your daddy walk through the door when he gets home from work and says "I'm home!" The way he picks you up and gives you a big kiss makes you giggly and happy. I can't wait to watch you go down the slide for the first time, or the first time I get to kiss your boo boo. I can't wait to teach you your ABC's, to take family vacations, to give you a sibling to play with, to watch you go to kindergarten, to help you plan the way you will ask a girl to the school dance, and to dance with you on your wedding day. You are my world.
So, Beckett, I want to thank you. Thank you for choosing us to be your parents. Thank you for teaching me patience. Thank you for making me fall even more in love with your dad when I see him with you. Thank you for cuddling me, for being so sweet and for being my boy. I can't wait to see what the next 6 months has in store, and then the years after that.
Love,
Mama.
8:50 PM
1 week old.
1 month.
2 months.
3 months.
4 months
5 months.
6 months. 21 lbs. 27.75"
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Sh!t they don't tell you about post-partum life.
So while I was taking a blog break and living in newborn and infant bliss with my child who refuses naps 90% of the time, and can't nap anywhere but in someone's arms or unless he is swaddled tighter than size 0 jeans on Honey Boo Boo's mother's body, I made many mental notes about shit they don't tell you about after you have a baby. This is also a TMI post, so don't read if you think you're going to get grossed out. Men, that means you. You will get grossed out. So don't read. Go play Madden or GTA or something instead. GO.
I mean, some of the stuff I was warned about by moms in my amazing August mom's group...but some of the things that happened/are happening have been totally effing unexpected and unwanted. I wish I would have been talked to about some of these things...so mamas who are expecting...here you go. Don't be scared. If you are scared, don't drink. Save all your drinking for when that baby comes and it wont nap. Hit the bottle when the baby hits the bottle. Or sleep when they sleep, whatever.
Just kidding. Kind of. Okay, not really.
Shall we?
1. YOU WILL BLEED MORE THAN YOU HAVE EVER BLED IN YOUR LIFE.
It's true. I thought I would escape it since my baby didn't come out of the hoohah. Nope. Not even close. Post partum bleeding was no joke and there was actually a point in time where I was on Amazon contemplating using my free shipping for Depends. Cause, I mean, I can't go to the store and buy that. Someone will see me. And laugh at me. Or I will get a picture snapped of me carrying these adult diapers and will be posted to "People of Walmart" or posted on FB with the caption "HAHAHAHA LOOK WHAT SHE'S BUYING." But I didn't. Three weeks in, I stopped bleeding and I was like "SWEET! I lucked out." Guess what? Mother Nature was playing a sick joke on me and then the next day it was back with a vengeance.
2. YOU MAY NOT LOSE MUCH WEIGHT AFTER GIVING BIRTH.
Alright, shhh. I gained 35-40 lbs. Fatty Mc Fat Fat. I retained SO MUCH WATER it was unbelievable. I had lots of Nachos Bell Grande too, but still. Not 40 lbs worth. I was like "great! I had a nearly 9 lb baby, then like 8 lbs of fluids and 1 lb of placenta so I should be down like almost 15-20 lbs! I stepped on the scale when I got home...who wants to guess how much weight I had lost? 20? 25? 14?
4.2 effing pounds. That's not even scientifically possible with what came out of me.
But it is. I was pumped full of SO many fluids for 24 hours. I was swollen swollen swollen. I bawled. WTF. It was painful to walk because my ankles were cankles from having so much fluid stored in them. How was I supposed to care for a baby while caring for my incision and not be able to at least walk around? I called Dr. E and she gave me a diuretic...and I lost 16 lbs of fluid like that. In 3 days. Women...DO NOT GET ON THE SCALE WHEN YOU GET HOME FROM THE HOSPITAL.WAIT.
3. YOU MAY GET THE BABY BLUES.
You have all these hormones raging through your body from conception on. Once those hormones are delivered out of you, your body goes WTF. Total WTF. On day 3, in the hospital I started crying. I cried all day. I couldn't stop. Breastfeeding was going awfully, I was stuck in this bed. I had all these emotions. I missed my belly. I was a squishy mess. I cried because my baby was already growing up. I cried because he had already changed so much in 3 days. I cried because I was mad at my body for not being able to deliver vaginally. I cried because I felt like a burden to Mark and my family. They had to do so much for me because I couldn't move. I couldn't even get up to change my baby for several days. Everyone was so amazing to me, and I felt like such a pain in everyone's ass. Eventually, the baby blues turned into post partum depression. And it's TOTALLY normal. I walked into Dr. E's office for my postpartum follow up, her amazing nurse asked how I was doing and I just started crying. My baby was perfect. He was a good sleeper. Why was I feeling like this? Get help if you need it, ladies!
4. YOUR HAIR WILL FALL OUT.
This is definitely not one I was prepared for. At all. I got so many compliments on my long, thick beautiful pregnancy hair. Seriously, it got so long and so healthy. But guess what? Thanksgiving came (3 months after B was born) and it started falling out. I can't even look at the brush these days. And I'm about to hit up a weave and wig shop. I'm literally counting down the days until we can attempt to have another baby so I can know when this will end.
5. YOUR BODY MAY NOT "BOUNCE BACK"
I had B at 23. That's pretty young. Everyone was like "oh, you'll have your body back in no time!" No. It's not back. I may have almost lost all of the weight, but it has not been easy, and it has not gone back to its original size/shape. But you know what? Your body could bounce back. I could just be one of the unlucky ones that got bad genetics. Just don't be surprised if you're still wearing maternity clothes 2 months after because your hips that you did or didn't birth your baby out of spread.
6. BREASTFEEDING MAY OR MAY NOT BE A BREEZE
I had this grand plan to exclusively breast feed B for 6 months. I had all the supplies bought and ordered, my pump ready, everything ready. Guess what? He couldn't latch right. My milk didn't come in for 6 days. He was jaundiced. He was hungry. I couldn't feed him. It broke my heart. He would be so hungry by the time it was time to eat, that he would have absolutely no patience or desire to feed. So we had to turn to the bottle. We had to supplement. Why? Why was my body AGAIN not doing what it was "supposed" to do? I power pumped. I took supplements. Dr. E prescribed me a medication known to boost supply. Nothing worked. I tried everything. I pumped for 6 weeks. I went to our lactation lady at the hospital. By that time he had taken a preference for formula over breastmilk. You don't know how bad it broke my heart. I wanted that bond. I wanted to be close to him. But you know what? It was causing me more stress and heartbreak than it needed to. We switched to formula and never looked back. He's happy, healthy and thriving. If it doesn't work for you, don't worry. You are not alone.
Thanks for listening to my ramblings. I just thought it could really help one of my many pregnant friends or friends wanting to start families soon.
Let's leave this on a happy note. Here's my 4 month old chunker.
I mean, some of the stuff I was warned about by moms in my amazing August mom's group...but some of the things that happened/are happening have been totally effing unexpected and unwanted. I wish I would have been talked to about some of these things...so mamas who are expecting...here you go. Don't be scared. If you are scared, don't drink. Save all your drinking for when that baby comes and it wont nap. Hit the bottle when the baby hits the bottle. Or sleep when they sleep, whatever.
Just kidding. Kind of. Okay, not really.
Shall we?
1. YOU WILL BLEED MORE THAN YOU HAVE EVER BLED IN YOUR LIFE.
It's true. I thought I would escape it since my baby didn't come out of the hoohah. Nope. Not even close. Post partum bleeding was no joke and there was actually a point in time where I was on Amazon contemplating using my free shipping for Depends. Cause, I mean, I can't go to the store and buy that. Someone will see me. And laugh at me. Or I will get a picture snapped of me carrying these adult diapers and will be posted to "People of Walmart" or posted on FB with the caption "HAHAHAHA LOOK WHAT SHE'S BUYING." But I didn't. Three weeks in, I stopped bleeding and I was like "SWEET! I lucked out." Guess what? Mother Nature was playing a sick joke on me and then the next day it was back with a vengeance.
2. YOU MAY NOT LOSE MUCH WEIGHT AFTER GIVING BIRTH.
Alright, shhh. I gained 35-40 lbs. Fatty Mc Fat Fat. I retained SO MUCH WATER it was unbelievable. I had lots of Nachos Bell Grande too, but still. Not 40 lbs worth. I was like "great! I had a nearly 9 lb baby, then like 8 lbs of fluids and 1 lb of placenta so I should be down like almost 15-20 lbs! I stepped on the scale when I got home...who wants to guess how much weight I had lost? 20? 25? 14?
4.2 effing pounds. That's not even scientifically possible with what came out of me.
But it is. I was pumped full of SO many fluids for 24 hours. I was swollen swollen swollen. I bawled. WTF. It was painful to walk because my ankles were cankles from having so much fluid stored in them. How was I supposed to care for a baby while caring for my incision and not be able to at least walk around? I called Dr. E and she gave me a diuretic...and I lost 16 lbs of fluid like that. In 3 days. Women...DO NOT GET ON THE SCALE WHEN YOU GET HOME FROM THE HOSPITAL.WAIT.
3. YOU MAY GET THE BABY BLUES.
You have all these hormones raging through your body from conception on. Once those hormones are delivered out of you, your body goes WTF. Total WTF. On day 3, in the hospital I started crying. I cried all day. I couldn't stop. Breastfeeding was going awfully, I was stuck in this bed. I had all these emotions. I missed my belly. I was a squishy mess. I cried because my baby was already growing up. I cried because he had already changed so much in 3 days. I cried because I was mad at my body for not being able to deliver vaginally. I cried because I felt like a burden to Mark and my family. They had to do so much for me because I couldn't move. I couldn't even get up to change my baby for several days. Everyone was so amazing to me, and I felt like such a pain in everyone's ass. Eventually, the baby blues turned into post partum depression. And it's TOTALLY normal. I walked into Dr. E's office for my postpartum follow up, her amazing nurse asked how I was doing and I just started crying. My baby was perfect. He was a good sleeper. Why was I feeling like this? Get help if you need it, ladies!
4. YOUR HAIR WILL FALL OUT.
This is definitely not one I was prepared for. At all. I got so many compliments on my long, thick beautiful pregnancy hair. Seriously, it got so long and so healthy. But guess what? Thanksgiving came (3 months after B was born) and it started falling out. I can't even look at the brush these days. And I'm about to hit up a weave and wig shop. I'm literally counting down the days until we can attempt to have another baby so I can know when this will end.
5. YOUR BODY MAY NOT "BOUNCE BACK"
I had B at 23. That's pretty young. Everyone was like "oh, you'll have your body back in no time!" No. It's not back. I may have almost lost all of the weight, but it has not been easy, and it has not gone back to its original size/shape. But you know what? Your body could bounce back. I could just be one of the unlucky ones that got bad genetics. Just don't be surprised if you're still wearing maternity clothes 2 months after because your hips that you did or didn't birth your baby out of spread.
6. BREASTFEEDING MAY OR MAY NOT BE A BREEZE
I had this grand plan to exclusively breast feed B for 6 months. I had all the supplies bought and ordered, my pump ready, everything ready. Guess what? He couldn't latch right. My milk didn't come in for 6 days. He was jaundiced. He was hungry. I couldn't feed him. It broke my heart. He would be so hungry by the time it was time to eat, that he would have absolutely no patience or desire to feed. So we had to turn to the bottle. We had to supplement. Why? Why was my body AGAIN not doing what it was "supposed" to do? I power pumped. I took supplements. Dr. E prescribed me a medication known to boost supply. Nothing worked. I tried everything. I pumped for 6 weeks. I went to our lactation lady at the hospital. By that time he had taken a preference for formula over breastmilk. You don't know how bad it broke my heart. I wanted that bond. I wanted to be close to him. But you know what? It was causing me more stress and heartbreak than it needed to. We switched to formula and never looked back. He's happy, healthy and thriving. If it doesn't work for you, don't worry. You are not alone.
Thanks for listening to my ramblings. I just thought it could really help one of my many pregnant friends or friends wanting to start families soon.
Let's leave this on a happy note. Here's my 4 month old chunker.
I abandoned this blog. But here's Beckett's Birth Story.
8/26
We checked into the hospital at 5:30 AM for our induction. I was seriously shaking from nerves. We walked into the hospital as a family of two and were going to leave as a family of three. SUCH an emotional experience!. It took an hour to get my IV in. This was the part I was dreading the most and I seem to have gotten the worst nurse possible for it. Finally, after three tries, it was in and I could relax a little better. Shift change happened and we met our 7am to 7pm nurse who was a freaking DOLL. I loved her. I still love her. She was amazing and made me so comfortable and at ease. She started my pitocin around 7:30 after she checked me, I was at a 3. Ok, cool.
At 8:30 when my OB (Dr. E) arrived, she broke my water. This is probably going to make me sound like a huge weirdo, but I LOVED that experience. I loved knowing that this was the point of "no return." That my baby boy was officially on his way into our arms.
They kept upping my pit and the contractions got stronger. I was dilated to a 5 and decided to get an epidural. The epidural was another thing I was so extremely worried about (I just hate needles). It was a breeze. The anesthesiologist was phenomenal and talked me thought my fears. It wasn't bad at all and I felt it start working about 5 minutes later. I could feel tightening, but I couldn't feel any pain. I was able to take a nap and get lots of rest with Mark while waiting for progression. I was turned on my Rt, Left, and then back every thirty minutes.
At 4 pm, I was at a 7! OMG! I was so excited and so nervous. When I say this was an incredibly emotional day, I meant it. DH gave me a card with a sweet note written in it for me at this point. I bawled. If I could go back in time to that moment, I would in a heartbeat.
At 5, 6, 7, and 8 pm, I was checked for progression, especially at 7 when I thought I felt pressure in my bottom, I was still at a 7. At 7:30, the nurse told me that I needed Oxygen, and that Beck wasn't handling labor well anymore. Dr. E came in and showed me that his HB would go very, very fast, and then drop super low. He was stressed out. My uterus started slowing down. I would have strong contractions 1 minute apart for 5-7 minutes, and then wouldn't have another for 5 minutes. My OB said that if there was no progression by 8PM that she would really like to discuss options to get baby out safe.
At 8pm, I was checked. I was still at a 7. There had been 4 hours with no progression. I cried. They explained my options, which were to go ahead and have a c section and get the baby out, or wait just a teeny longer. Mark and I discussed and having had a loss in the past, we decided to go ahead with the CS to get baby out healthy and alive. I cried. And cried. And cried. It hit me that I would most likely never get to birth a baby (not many OB's will attempt VBAC around here) "normally". It hit me that I was going to have major surgery in a matter of minutes. It hit me that pregnancy was over (which I was ready for, but it was such an awesome time in my life). There were so many emotions.
They prepped me (and by prepped I mean numbed me and got the area ready) at 8:15. At 8:30 they wheeled me back to the OR and prepped my abdomen. They finally let Mark in after he scrubbed up. I felt so nauseous. I told the anesthesiologist that I was nauseous and she gave me a medication. I then proceeded to vomit twice on the table. This is apparently why they don't let you eat when you're in labor...to prevent this from happening. Well, it happened. I should have just eaten a damn cheeseburger at noon when I was starving.
A little while later I heard "Time of birth: 20:45" and heard the most beautiful cry I have ever heard. Big strong, healthy cry. I remember Mark popping up to go see him while I remained on the table. It really bothered me that I could not see my baby or what was going on.
Mark came back and showed me the most beautiful photo on his phone that I have ever seen.
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We were discharged on 8/29/2013 and had to go back for a weight check on 8/30/13 because he was jaundiced and we had struggled with feedings. :(
But basically, we are in love with him. You don't know what love really is until you meet your child. The child you dreamed about, carried around for 40 weeks, stressed about, planned for. It's amazing.
We checked into the hospital at 5:30 AM for our induction. I was seriously shaking from nerves. We walked into the hospital as a family of two and were going to leave as a family of three. SUCH an emotional experience!. It took an hour to get my IV in. This was the part I was dreading the most and I seem to have gotten the worst nurse possible for it. Finally, after three tries, it was in and I could relax a little better. Shift change happened and we met our 7am to 7pm nurse who was a freaking DOLL. I loved her. I still love her. She was amazing and made me so comfortable and at ease. She started my pitocin around 7:30 after she checked me, I was at a 3. Ok, cool.
At 8:30 when my OB (Dr. E) arrived, she broke my water. This is probably going to make me sound like a huge weirdo, but I LOVED that experience. I loved knowing that this was the point of "no return." That my baby boy was officially on his way into our arms.
They kept upping my pit and the contractions got stronger. I was dilated to a 5 and decided to get an epidural. The epidural was another thing I was so extremely worried about (I just hate needles). It was a breeze. The anesthesiologist was phenomenal and talked me thought my fears. It wasn't bad at all and I felt it start working about 5 minutes later. I could feel tightening, but I couldn't feel any pain. I was able to take a nap and get lots of rest with Mark while waiting for progression. I was turned on my Rt, Left, and then back every thirty minutes.
At 4 pm, I was at a 7! OMG! I was so excited and so nervous. When I say this was an incredibly emotional day, I meant it. DH gave me a card with a sweet note written in it for me at this point. I bawled. If I could go back in time to that moment, I would in a heartbeat.
At 5, 6, 7, and 8 pm, I was checked for progression, especially at 7 when I thought I felt pressure in my bottom, I was still at a 7. At 7:30, the nurse told me that I needed Oxygen, and that Beck wasn't handling labor well anymore. Dr. E came in and showed me that his HB would go very, very fast, and then drop super low. He was stressed out. My uterus started slowing down. I would have strong contractions 1 minute apart for 5-7 minutes, and then wouldn't have another for 5 minutes. My OB said that if there was no progression by 8PM that she would really like to discuss options to get baby out safe.
At 8pm, I was checked. I was still at a 7. There had been 4 hours with no progression. I cried. They explained my options, which were to go ahead and have a c section and get the baby out, or wait just a teeny longer. Mark and I discussed and having had a loss in the past, we decided to go ahead with the CS to get baby out healthy and alive. I cried. And cried. And cried. It hit me that I would most likely never get to birth a baby (not many OB's will attempt VBAC around here) "normally". It hit me that I was going to have major surgery in a matter of minutes. It hit me that pregnancy was over (which I was ready for, but it was such an awesome time in my life). There were so many emotions.
They prepped me (and by prepped I mean numbed me and got the area ready) at 8:15. At 8:30 they wheeled me back to the OR and prepped my abdomen. They finally let Mark in after he scrubbed up. I felt so nauseous. I told the anesthesiologist that I was nauseous and she gave me a medication. I then proceeded to vomit twice on the table. This is apparently why they don't let you eat when you're in labor...to prevent this from happening. Well, it happened. I should have just eaten a damn cheeseburger at noon when I was starving.
A little while later I heard "Time of birth: 20:45" and heard the most beautiful cry I have ever heard. Big strong, healthy cry. I remember Mark popping up to go see him while I remained on the table. It really bothered me that I could not see my baby or what was going on.
Mark came back and showed me the most beautiful photo on his phone that I have ever seen.
Then I said "WHAT!? 8 lbs 11 oz?! WTF.
They let me do skin to skin with him, which is apparently a new policy at that hospital that they are doing to promote bonding in CS patients. It was nice. You know what that little stinker did as soon as he was placed on my chest? He lifted his head and looked around the room. I knew I was in trouble then.
So then they wheeled me to recovery where we Facetimed Mark's family so they could see the baby from Colorado. And then my parents came to meet him. I really don't remember most of it. I remember whenever someone would give me the baby back, I would ask "when is this kid going to get a bath, it looks like he has bacon bits in his hair!" I was grossed out just a teeny bit. I wanted to snuggle a clean baby. So at midnight, they took him and bathed him and I took a quick nap.
We were discharged on 8/29/2013 and had to go back for a weight check on 8/30/13 because he was jaundiced and we had struggled with feedings. :(
But basically, we are in love with him. You don't know what love really is until you meet your child. The child you dreamed about, carried around for 40 weeks, stressed about, planned for. It's amazing.
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