A couple weeks ago, Marshall and I made the decision to sidecar Jilly's crib to our bed. We came about this for a couple reasons. One, we felt it was time to start getting some of our space back in the bed. And two, Jilly's increasing mobility and ability to use anything as a pull-up point (including the bedrail we installed on the bed previously) were making us uneasy about having her sleep in our bed, especially during those couple hours between Jillian's bedtime and mine, when I was constantly checking on her, but she did spend some time in there alone while I tried to have some sanity-saving time to myself. One thing that cemented our decision to do this, though, was that we wanted to make sure transitioning her into her own crib goes smoothly and gently. This doesn't need to be a traumatic thing, right? And putting her in her crib in her own room and making her sleep alone for the first time in her life seemed way too traumatic to both Jilly and me. Because at this point, I'm just as dependent on those night time snuggles as she is.
So, we took one side off the crib, hauled the beast from her room to ours, adjusted her mattress height to be the same as ours, and pushed them seamlessly together. It makes me getting in and out of bed difficult, as now the only part of the bed available to get in and out of is the foot of the bed. But that doesn't really bother me like I thought it might. I made a big production out of the new sleeping arrangements. "Look, Jilly! Your bed and Mommy's bed, yay! Now you can sleep in your bed, and Mommy will be in her bed, but it's like one big bed. Yay, Jilly!" And we set off to get her to bed and try this out.
Here's what I expected: lots of confusion, waking up crying, wondering why in the world she's in this thing instead of the bed, followed by some playtime fluttering back and forth being excited. Lots of us putting her back to sleep and putting her back down in the crib. Repeat throughout the evening until I come to bed, when she'll throw and fit and scream and I'll have to pull her into my side. I expected it to be a huge adjustment and kind of confusing to her.
Here's what actually happened: the first night she slept 8 hours in her crib, without so much as a whimper until 4 am, when she half-awake half-asleep crawled over to me and plopped down snuggled into me. Each night since, she goes to sleep without fuss in her crib, and despite one bad night where she refused to go to sleep at all, she sleeps until I come to bed, when she sleep-crawls in a stumbling manner into my side of the bed and nurses and snuggles. All naps are now taken in her crib, and when she wakes in her crib she'll sometimes play for a good 10 minutes or so before crying out for me. So she's adjusting perfectly. It's been easier than I anticipated for sure.
I hope she keeps night-crawling to me when I climb in bed, though. That first night I hardly slept a wink without her in the crook of my arm snuggling against me. It was lonely. It was my first realization that she's growing up, and at some point she won't want to sleep snuggled with her Mommy anymore. As an attached parenting family, these signs of independence make me happy, but I'm also glad to be there for her in the middle of the night when she decides she needs to nurse and lay with me. And I anticipate a sidecarred crib until well into the toddler years, when she's ready to branch out into her own big girl bed. (And probably still end up in bed with us, just as I know I did as a child, right Mom?)
All in all, I'm happy with this first small step we've taken towards transitioning Jilly into her own sleep space.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
Potato Whacithribigoba soup
Potato soup. It's probably my favorite soup on the planet. Not surprising, since it's made with potatoes (duh!) and potatoes are my favorite food. So, a few nights ago, after discovering that we really, really needed to go grocery shopping, I found that somehow I acquired about 5 cans of cream of potato soup in my pantry. Huh. No clue how I stockpiled that many up, but in a split second I decided that potato soup was the menu for the evening.
If you're like me (and let's face it, not many people are as odd as me), then you love potato soup, but heating up a can of cream of potato and calling it a meal is not real potato soup. And, surprisingly, I realized that I had never made homemade potato soup before. So I decided to give it a shot, in a free-for-all, make it up as you go along recipe. And it was delicious.
Let me start out by saying, that when I notice we're out of almost everything, I routinely try to come up with recipes where I can use all the remaining perishable ingredients at once. Or, at least the remaining ingredients that actually make sense to put in whatever I'm cooking. Obviously throwing some apples in with my roux while making soup would be a bad idea. (Trust me, it's a bad idea.) So, I started on a mission of "What can I throw in here before it goes bad" soup. (From here on called Whacithribigoba soup.)
I know, get to the cooking part already, right? In my quest, I found a slightly over half full bag of baby carrots, around a quarter head of cauliflower, some slightly wilted looking green onions three medium-ish sized red potatoes (okay, for red potatoes they were pretty big), milk, around half a container of chive and onion sour cream, and bacon (BACON!!!!!). Plus the cream of potato soup in my pantry. Party on!
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the recipe for some of the best semi-homemade potato soup ever created on the fly. Delicious, and invented by me!
The Goods:
3-4 red potatoes, chopped
1(ish) bag baby carrots, chopped
1/4-1/2 head of cauliflower, chopped
2 cans cream of potato soup
2 soup cans worth of milk (approx. 2 cups)
1/2 an 8 oz. tub chive and onion cream cheese
1/2 tsp. minced garlic
1 pinch red pepper flakes
Salt and pepper, to taste
Cooked bacon crumbles as desired
Chopped green onion, as desired
Shreded sharp cheddar cheese, as desired
The How:
In a large saucepan, cover potatoes, carrots, and cauliflower with fair amount of water. Bring to boil; cover and reduce heat to simmer. Simmer for 15 minutes or until veggies are tender. Strain and set aside.
In saucepan over medium heat, mix in soup and milk. Stir until combined, then stir in cream cheese, garlic, pepper flakes, and salt and pepper. Continue cooking until mixture is at a simmer. Add in vegetables, and cook until heated through and slightly bubbly.
Serve immediately, topped with bacon, cheese, and green onion if desired. I thought this would also be good maybe with some tomato on top, too.
I didn't get a picture when I made this, unfortunately, but I did get a picture of the leftovers reheated for lunch the next day. This made 4 giant bowls of soup. I imagine it would serve 6 regular bowls. Here's the finished product!
If you're like me (and let's face it, not many people are as odd as me), then you love potato soup, but heating up a can of cream of potato and calling it a meal is not real potato soup. And, surprisingly, I realized that I had never made homemade potato soup before. So I decided to give it a shot, in a free-for-all, make it up as you go along recipe. And it was delicious.
Let me start out by saying, that when I notice we're out of almost everything, I routinely try to come up with recipes where I can use all the remaining perishable ingredients at once. Or, at least the remaining ingredients that actually make sense to put in whatever I'm cooking. Obviously throwing some apples in with my roux while making soup would be a bad idea. (Trust me, it's a bad idea.) So, I started on a mission of "What can I throw in here before it goes bad" soup. (From here on called Whacithribigoba soup.)
I know, get to the cooking part already, right? In my quest, I found a slightly over half full bag of baby carrots, around a quarter head of cauliflower, some slightly wilted looking green onions three medium-ish sized red potatoes (okay, for red potatoes they were pretty big), milk, around half a container of chive and onion sour cream, and bacon (BACON!!!!!). Plus the cream of potato soup in my pantry. Party on!
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the recipe for some of the best semi-homemade potato soup ever created on the fly. Delicious, and invented by me!
The Goods:
3-4 red potatoes, chopped
1(ish) bag baby carrots, chopped
1/4-1/2 head of cauliflower, chopped
2 cans cream of potato soup
2 soup cans worth of milk (approx. 2 cups)
1/2 an 8 oz. tub chive and onion cream cheese
1/2 tsp. minced garlic
1 pinch red pepper flakes
Salt and pepper, to taste
Cooked bacon crumbles as desired
Chopped green onion, as desired
Shreded sharp cheddar cheese, as desired
The How:
In a large saucepan, cover potatoes, carrots, and cauliflower with fair amount of water. Bring to boil; cover and reduce heat to simmer. Simmer for 15 minutes or until veggies are tender. Strain and set aside.
In saucepan over medium heat, mix in soup and milk. Stir until combined, then stir in cream cheese, garlic, pepper flakes, and salt and pepper. Continue cooking until mixture is at a simmer. Add in vegetables, and cook until heated through and slightly bubbly.
Serve immediately, topped with bacon, cheese, and green onion if desired. I thought this would also be good maybe with some tomato on top, too.
I didn't get a picture when I made this, unfortunately, but I did get a picture of the leftovers reheated for lunch the next day. This made 4 giant bowls of soup. I imagine it would serve 6 regular bowls. Here's the finished product!
 |
| Oh, what a tasty soup it was! |
Monday, August 29, 2011
In the Evening
Every evening about this time, after Jilly has been in bed for a little while and Marshall goes to sleep, and after I catch my breath from my workout (Curse you Jillian Michaels and your hard yet extremely effective DVDs!), I sit down and, for the first time all day, think about me. What do I want to do with the hour or so that I get completely to myself before I go to bed? Usually, one of two things happens. Most nights, I look around at the messy house, then start straightening up, doing dishes, cleaning bathrooms, preparing Jilly's meals for the next day, all before getting myself ready for bed and passing out as soon as my head hits the pillow. Then there's nights like tonight, where I decide that maybe I can be lazy for a night. I skip my workout, look around my messy house, and think "Meh, it can wait." Because I'll be honest, I'm tired. So very tired.
Jilly has quite the routine at this age. We wake at 9 (give or take a half hour), eat, then she plays in the exersaucer while I get some breakfast and try to wake up enough to be fully functioning. Then we play on the floor for about an hour. These days, this means Jilly rolls and scoots around getting into stuff while I see just how not-childproofed my house is. "No, Jilly, Daddy's xbox is not a toy. No, Jilly, we can't try to eat cat hair. No, Jilly, we don't pull things off the coffee table." She's not even fully mobile or pulling herself up on anything yet and she's already sooo busy. Before I know it an hour goes by, and she's ready for her nap at 10:30.
Now, nap times are sacred to a parent. Unfortunately, my sacred time only lasts 45 minutes at most, so I try to cram as much into nap times as possible. The morning nap is my shower and get ready for the day. By the time I'm showered, dressed, and at least partially made up for the day it's usually pretty close to wake up time, so I try to start getting lunch around for us during the last moments of precious sleep. Then we play until 11:45, when she's into the high chair so I can finish our lunches, and lunchtime begins. After lunch comes clean-up, which usually takes a while since Jilly likes to try to feed herself and makes a huge mess. Then at 1:00 is her afternoon nap. She usually naps for an hour (woah!), so I clean up the kitchen from lunch, sweep the floors through the house, switch laundry, make Marshall lunch, and then Jilly wakes up. We play, read, whatever, until 4, when she naps again, then Marshall entertains her so I can make dinner, we eat, play, bath at 8, then book, song, and bed at 8:30.
Marsh goes to bed at 9, then the house is quiet. It's in that moment when I think, "Where did all my time go today?" I never feel like I get much accomplished, and yet I never stop moving. My house always looks like a mess, and yet I feel like I'm always cleaning. How the hell does that happen?
Anyway, this evening I'm doing nothing for a bit. But, it's already 10:30, so bedtime is any minute now. I'll tell you what, writing this out explains to me why I'm always so exhausted! I kind of miss having some time to myself to focus on things I love to do. On the same hand, taking care of Jillian is what I love to do most, so I guess it all balances out! I hope as Jilly gets older and can entertain herself more (and separation anxiety is over!) I can balance my time a little better to work in some time just for me to do what I want!
Jilly has quite the routine at this age. We wake at 9 (give or take a half hour), eat, then she plays in the exersaucer while I get some breakfast and try to wake up enough to be fully functioning. Then we play on the floor for about an hour. These days, this means Jilly rolls and scoots around getting into stuff while I see just how not-childproofed my house is. "No, Jilly, Daddy's xbox is not a toy. No, Jilly, we can't try to eat cat hair. No, Jilly, we don't pull things off the coffee table." She's not even fully mobile or pulling herself up on anything yet and she's already sooo busy. Before I know it an hour goes by, and she's ready for her nap at 10:30.
Now, nap times are sacred to a parent. Unfortunately, my sacred time only lasts 45 minutes at most, so I try to cram as much into nap times as possible. The morning nap is my shower and get ready for the day. By the time I'm showered, dressed, and at least partially made up for the day it's usually pretty close to wake up time, so I try to start getting lunch around for us during the last moments of precious sleep. Then we play until 11:45, when she's into the high chair so I can finish our lunches, and lunchtime begins. After lunch comes clean-up, which usually takes a while since Jilly likes to try to feed herself and makes a huge mess. Then at 1:00 is her afternoon nap. She usually naps for an hour (woah!), so I clean up the kitchen from lunch, sweep the floors through the house, switch laundry, make Marshall lunch, and then Jilly wakes up. We play, read, whatever, until 4, when she naps again, then Marshall entertains her so I can make dinner, we eat, play, bath at 8, then book, song, and bed at 8:30.
Marsh goes to bed at 9, then the house is quiet. It's in that moment when I think, "Where did all my time go today?" I never feel like I get much accomplished, and yet I never stop moving. My house always looks like a mess, and yet I feel like I'm always cleaning. How the hell does that happen?
Anyway, this evening I'm doing nothing for a bit. But, it's already 10:30, so bedtime is any minute now. I'll tell you what, writing this out explains to me why I'm always so exhausted! I kind of miss having some time to myself to focus on things I love to do. On the same hand, taking care of Jillian is what I love to do most, so I guess it all balances out! I hope as Jilly gets older and can entertain herself more (and separation anxiety is over!) I can balance my time a little better to work in some time just for me to do what I want!
Friday, August 19, 2011
I'm ba-ack! With "Adventures in Nursing: the Acrobat"
So, I think this is the longest I've gone without blogging anything. Vacation, man! Get off my back! *Looks around shiftily.* Anywho, my vacation was amazing. I wish I could say I feel refreshed, but it was exhausting. Now I just find myself homesick for that hecticness as I sit around with nothing to do but hang with Jillybean all day. Fortunately, hanging with the Bean just so happens to be the highlight of my life.
My vacation was mainly just visiting family. Jilly ate up the attention like no other, just as long as I was the one holding her. She did okay near the end, but she just wanted her mommy pretty much the whole vacation. But what can one expect from a baby who's never met anyone or been anywhere other than with her mom and dad and a small group of close friends? She did awesome.
I don't have too much time to write tonight, so I'll write about my vacay later. But for now, I'm going to write a short bit on "Adventures in Nursing."
The day before yesterday, Jillian decided that the only way she'd eat is in the side-lying position. For my non-nursing friends reading this, this means I lay down on my side, Jilly lays on her side, tummy to tummy, and she eats. This has always been her favorite way to eat, but until Wednesday she'd eat however she could because the girl loves her food.
Now, Miss Fuss has recently started to scoot around a bit. She can scoot in circles like a pro, and she can go backwards, but she's learning to army crawl forward at the moment, at least when she's not getting super frustrated and just looking at me screaming. ("Why aren't you moving me? What do you want from me, Mom? JUST PICK ME UP ALREADY OR MOVE ME AND STOP MAKING ME TRY TO DO IT!!!!")
Yesterday, as she was eating, I noticed she was kicking off me with her legs, and rolling onto her stomach. All the while, she had her brow furrowed in concentration and was grunting a bit. She scooted a bit, pulled off and laughed, then continued eating. All the while I was just kind of staring like "Uhhh..what are you doing, love?" After a few minutes, she moved herself into a full out backbend, then straightened herself out so she was perpendicular to me. And yes, she was still eating with an occaisional giggle thrown in.
Today, she somehow managed (I was napping with her so I'm not 100% sure how this happened), while nursing, to turn all the way up so her body was pressed against my face, once again still eating the whole time and giggling.
Apparently, we have to eat in the side-lying position only so she can turn me into her little mealtime jungle gym. I have a feeling the older she gets the more shenanigans while nursing I'll experience. My little crazy kid!
My vacation was mainly just visiting family. Jilly ate up the attention like no other, just as long as I was the one holding her. She did okay near the end, but she just wanted her mommy pretty much the whole vacation. But what can one expect from a baby who's never met anyone or been anywhere other than with her mom and dad and a small group of close friends? She did awesome.
I don't have too much time to write tonight, so I'll write about my vacay later. But for now, I'm going to write a short bit on "Adventures in Nursing."
The day before yesterday, Jillian decided that the only way she'd eat is in the side-lying position. For my non-nursing friends reading this, this means I lay down on my side, Jilly lays on her side, tummy to tummy, and she eats. This has always been her favorite way to eat, but until Wednesday she'd eat however she could because the girl loves her food.
Now, Miss Fuss has recently started to scoot around a bit. She can scoot in circles like a pro, and she can go backwards, but she's learning to army crawl forward at the moment, at least when she's not getting super frustrated and just looking at me screaming. ("Why aren't you moving me? What do you want from me, Mom? JUST PICK ME UP ALREADY OR MOVE ME AND STOP MAKING ME TRY TO DO IT!!!!")
Yesterday, as she was eating, I noticed she was kicking off me with her legs, and rolling onto her stomach. All the while, she had her brow furrowed in concentration and was grunting a bit. She scooted a bit, pulled off and laughed, then continued eating. All the while I was just kind of staring like "Uhhh..what are you doing, love?" After a few minutes, she moved herself into a full out backbend, then straightened herself out so she was perpendicular to me. And yes, she was still eating with an occaisional giggle thrown in.
Today, she somehow managed (I was napping with her so I'm not 100% sure how this happened), while nursing, to turn all the way up so her body was pressed against my face, once again still eating the whole time and giggling.
Apparently, we have to eat in the side-lying position only so she can turn me into her little mealtime jungle gym. I have a feeling the older she gets the more shenanigans while nursing I'll experience. My little crazy kid!
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Favorites
My daughter is very opinionated. I didn't realize that such a little person could have such a big personality. One thing you have to know about Jillian right off is that she likes to tell you exactly what she thinks. When she's happy, she's all smiles and giggles. When she's tired, she dramatically talks a long "waaaaahh" followed by around 5 minutes of complaining "hmphs" and she drifts into sleep. And when she's mad, oh man, does that girl get mad.
One of the things that's really developed recently is her love of certain items. She's got quite a few favorite things. And if she wants one of her favorite things, she lets you know with lots of grunting, babbling, and cooing. Unfortunately, being only five months old (although I swear at times she thinks she's much bigger!), she can't exactly tell me what she wants. So we go throw the motions of figuring out what she wants.
Does she want her George Girraffe? (Rrrraaaaaaaaaahhhh!) Nope.
How about her Winkle rattle toy? (Bbbttttthhhhhppppppaaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhh!) Nope.
Maybe she wants her ball? (AAAAAAARRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHH UH UH UH UH!) Definately not.
Anyway, we go through her toys until all of a sudden:
Do you want your orange lizard chewy thing? (Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh! Giggle, coo, giggle.) Okay. That's what she wants.
Being the mom of such an opinionated little squirt is hard work. But, I've figured out her favorite things at least, so that does help.
Her favorite color is orange. Followed closely by fire engine red.
Her favorite book is "Bunny's Noisy Book" by Margaret Wise Brown. We could read that book over and over (and sometimes do) and she always squeals in delight as we go.
The mornings are her favorite for tummy time, and her favorite toy to try to reach for is her orange lizard "Spock."
Her favorite game while sitting is to knock over the stack of rings from her little ring stack toy. (You know, the one with the yellow pole on the white base and you stack the big blue, smaller green, even smaller yellow, smaller than that orange, and smallest of all red rings on it.)
If she's sitting in her bumbo while Mommy cooks/cleans/whatever in the kitchen, she must, MUST, have her white spoon. If you try to give her any other kitchen object, she throws it down and won't take it back. But her white spoon, that's love.
I love being able to make her happy. I love that she's old enough to really start showing herself to us. I can't wait for her passport to arrive, so we can take that 9 hour plane ride back to Ohio and she can meet her family there. I wonder if her preferences will carry transcontinentally? Or if Ohio will affect her interests? I can't wait to find out!
One of the things that's really developed recently is her love of certain items. She's got quite a few favorite things. And if she wants one of her favorite things, she lets you know with lots of grunting, babbling, and cooing. Unfortunately, being only five months old (although I swear at times she thinks she's much bigger!), she can't exactly tell me what she wants. So we go throw the motions of figuring out what she wants.
Does she want her George Girraffe? (Rrrraaaaaaaaaahhhh!) Nope.
How about her Winkle rattle toy? (Bbbttttthhhhhppppppaaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhh!) Nope.
Maybe she wants her ball? (AAAAAAARRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHH UH UH UH UH!) Definately not.
Anyway, we go through her toys until all of a sudden:
Do you want your orange lizard chewy thing? (Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh! Giggle, coo, giggle.) Okay. That's what she wants.
Being the mom of such an opinionated little squirt is hard work. But, I've figured out her favorite things at least, so that does help.
Her favorite color is orange. Followed closely by fire engine red.
Her favorite book is "Bunny's Noisy Book" by Margaret Wise Brown. We could read that book over and over (and sometimes do) and she always squeals in delight as we go.
The mornings are her favorite for tummy time, and her favorite toy to try to reach for is her orange lizard "Spock."
Her favorite game while sitting is to knock over the stack of rings from her little ring stack toy. (You know, the one with the yellow pole on the white base and you stack the big blue, smaller green, even smaller yellow, smaller than that orange, and smallest of all red rings on it.)
If she's sitting in her bumbo while Mommy cooks/cleans/whatever in the kitchen, she must, MUST, have her white spoon. If you try to give her any other kitchen object, she throws it down and won't take it back. But her white spoon, that's love.
I love being able to make her happy. I love that she's old enough to really start showing herself to us. I can't wait for her passport to arrive, so we can take that 9 hour plane ride back to Ohio and she can meet her family there. I wonder if her preferences will carry transcontinentally? Or if Ohio will affect her interests? I can't wait to find out!
Monday, May 23, 2011
Wake Up!
My daughter has a great sense of humor. I can tell that already. There's a few things that make me say this. One is that she's figured out that if Daddy pats her on the back and she says "Waaaaaaaaaaahhh!" it comes out like "Waa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-hh!" So she'll do that for a little while, and looks very pleased with herself. Another is that she thinks it's hilarious if I "eat" her hand, and will keep putting her hand up to my mouth for me to "Nom! Nom! Nom!" and she'll smile and laugh.
But the main reason I say this is the way she's been waking me up every morning for the past couple weeks.
As I've talked about before, we've become a bed-sharing family. Actually, we've become a "Mommy and Baby get the master bed while Daddy sleeps in the guest bed" family. And it works great for us. Marshall doesn't normally go to bed until much later than we do (Jilly's in bed around 7, me at 10:30, and Marsh around 1-2 a.m.), so with him sleeping in the other room Jilly and I can get uninterupted rest. Plus, we get up a couple hours at least before Marshall so that way we don't wake him up.
It used to be that I'd be awoken by Jilly's slight stirrings as she was waking up for the day. Now that she's a little older, she's found a new way to let me know she's ready to take on the world. She pets my face. Literally.
Starting a couple weeks ago, I would feel her stir, start to wake up myself, then suddenly feel her little hand exploring my face, accompanied by a "Gaaa?" It's hilarious. Sometimes she grabs my nose, and sometimes she strokes my face like I'm her little pet. It's always with some kind of audible noise, usually question-y sounding in nature, and always with a smile.
Actually, I think she might think I'm her pet. As in, I think she thinks she owns me. And she kind of does. Besides waking me up with a gentle pat, as she falls asleep lately she reaches out and pets me on the chest or arm like "Good Mommy, way to comfort me, Mommy!" And within the past few days, she's decided that she's going to let me know she's hungry by reaching up and pulling down the top of my shirt. Quite embarrassing when we're, say, in the clinic's waiting room waiting for her four month checkup.
Then there's the banana incident, and others like it. Two days ago, I was eating a banana while holding her, when she reached up, stuck her hand in my mouth, and grabbed at my currently being chewed banana. She managed to get a little and stick it in her own mouth. It rocked her world. She LOVES her bananas. We've shared a couple since then, with me chewing and chewing, then letting her eat some ABC, mama made banana puree. Now, whenever she sees a banana she goes "Oooh! Oooooo! Oooh! Ooooo!" with her eyes wide and her arms flailing. She's constantly watching me eat and mimicking me by opening her mouth as I open mine and "chewing" as I chew. Sadly, I think my baby's pretty ready for solids.
All of these things remind me that a baby is a teeny tiny person. Not like I didn't know that already, but it's easy to forget when they're fresh outta the tummy that they have their own little personalities. Now that I'm seeing hers shine through, I'm so enjoying watching the person she's becoming.
And she's becoming quite bossy. It cracks me up!
But the main reason I say this is the way she's been waking me up every morning for the past couple weeks.
As I've talked about before, we've become a bed-sharing family. Actually, we've become a "Mommy and Baby get the master bed while Daddy sleeps in the guest bed" family. And it works great for us. Marshall doesn't normally go to bed until much later than we do (Jilly's in bed around 7, me at 10:30, and Marsh around 1-2 a.m.), so with him sleeping in the other room Jilly and I can get uninterupted rest. Plus, we get up a couple hours at least before Marshall so that way we don't wake him up.
It used to be that I'd be awoken by Jilly's slight stirrings as she was waking up for the day. Now that she's a little older, she's found a new way to let me know she's ready to take on the world. She pets my face. Literally.
Starting a couple weeks ago, I would feel her stir, start to wake up myself, then suddenly feel her little hand exploring my face, accompanied by a "Gaaa?" It's hilarious. Sometimes she grabs my nose, and sometimes she strokes my face like I'm her little pet. It's always with some kind of audible noise, usually question-y sounding in nature, and always with a smile.
Actually, I think she might think I'm her pet. As in, I think she thinks she owns me. And she kind of does. Besides waking me up with a gentle pat, as she falls asleep lately she reaches out and pets me on the chest or arm like "Good Mommy, way to comfort me, Mommy!" And within the past few days, she's decided that she's going to let me know she's hungry by reaching up and pulling down the top of my shirt. Quite embarrassing when we're, say, in the clinic's waiting room waiting for her four month checkup.
Then there's the banana incident, and others like it. Two days ago, I was eating a banana while holding her, when she reached up, stuck her hand in my mouth, and grabbed at my currently being chewed banana. She managed to get a little and stick it in her own mouth. It rocked her world. She LOVES her bananas. We've shared a couple since then, with me chewing and chewing, then letting her eat some ABC, mama made banana puree. Now, whenever she sees a banana she goes "Oooh! Oooooo! Oooh! Ooooo!" with her eyes wide and her arms flailing. She's constantly watching me eat and mimicking me by opening her mouth as I open mine and "chewing" as I chew. Sadly, I think my baby's pretty ready for solids.
All of these things remind me that a baby is a teeny tiny person. Not like I didn't know that already, but it's easy to forget when they're fresh outta the tummy that they have their own little personalities. Now that I'm seeing hers shine through, I'm so enjoying watching the person she's becoming.
And she's becoming quite bossy. It cracks me up!
Monday, May 16, 2011
Cyclosporine
Cyclosporine is a drug given mainly to patients before receiving an organ transplant. It supresses the body's immune system so the body doesn't reject the new organ. It's also used as a treatment for cancer, although I'm not exactly sure why. Rarely, it's used by people with skin disorders like psoriasis when no other treatments yield results.
Marshall is now on cyclosporine for his cholinergic urticaria.
Side effects include nausea, vomiting, stomach pains, lack of appetite, mood swings, fatigue, changes in hair growth, hair growing in random places (which I find especially odd), and if used prolongingly many patients have hip and joint issues. Most users will experience side effects to some degree.
Within one hour of taking his medication, Marshall starts to experience what starts as a sour stomach. He says it starts feeling similar to how your stomach feels when you eat too much sugar. Then, he feels like his core is warm, while his arms and legs feel cooler. It escalates at some point into what he can only describe as a super nasty sour feeling that radiates through his body before starting to feel better. He feels like he's going to throw up constantly for about half an hour or so. The better his stomach feels, the more fatigued he begins to feel. At least with the fatigue he's not in pain.
He has definate mood swings. One minute we're laughing and joking, the next he's irritated with my teasing and wants to be alone. I'm learning to deal with it. My job as his wife is to try to stay as even keel as possible throughout this whole ordeal.
He's still having break outs. He's taking this stuff that makes him so sick, and it's not supressing his breakouts at all.
I hate cyclosporine. I hate the way it makes him feel. I hate that I can't make him better. I hate that it doesn't make him better.
And most of all I hate how it's made us lose hope. We've lost hope that he'll remain in the Air Force. We've lost hope that they'll let him appeal. We know this is the beginning of the end. Of that, we're both certain. And even if they do let him appeal, we doubt they'd decide anything different.
It's hard. It's so freaking hard. We make jokes about the movie "Fun with Dick and Jane." You know that scene where they sell their nice BMW family car and get a crappy teensy two door car that's falling apart? We joke about having to trade in our Focus, which we just bought a little over a year ago before this process started, and getting teensy car. We joke about having to sell our TV to have money to pay our bills.
And then we have a serious discussion about it. About what stays and what goes if things start to get bad. About welfare, medicaid, food stamps, and government assistance programs that we'll need to join. About living with parents and applying for jobs at McDonald's or Denny's or Burger King until we can find jobs better suited for us. About who will watch Jilly while we work, and about watching our dreams for our family crumble. About if I should go ahead and move back to Ohio with Jilly and try to find a job while we still have a main income, so I can take my time and find something I'd like to do, instead of have to do.
I keep it together, for the most part. I wait until I'm away from Marshall and Jilly, usually when I'm in the shower, to lose it. The hardest part for me is knowing that I'm probably going to have to leave Jilly. My dream was always to be able to stay home with my children. I love being home with her. But is that an option when you and your husband are going to be unemployed, or do you have to go find work, at least for a little while?
There's a constant knot in the pit of my stomach. I just want him to get better. Not just so he can keep the career he's so proud to be building, but so he can feel better. I want him to get better so bad it hurts. It makes me angry. It makes me question why. Why is this happening to him? It makes me question God.
I want so much for my family, especially my daughter. I want her to have a mommy who can stay home with her and raise her, and a daddy who can provide for her. I want to be able to buy her nice things, take her places, go on vacations. And I'm so scared, with the economy the way it is, that Marshall won't be able to find a good job. One that makes him proud, and has benefits, and gives us enough to live off of so I can continue being a full time mommy to Jillian.
I'm terrified.
Marshall is now on cyclosporine for his cholinergic urticaria.
Side effects include nausea, vomiting, stomach pains, lack of appetite, mood swings, fatigue, changes in hair growth, hair growing in random places (which I find especially odd), and if used prolongingly many patients have hip and joint issues. Most users will experience side effects to some degree.
Within one hour of taking his medication, Marshall starts to experience what starts as a sour stomach. He says it starts feeling similar to how your stomach feels when you eat too much sugar. Then, he feels like his core is warm, while his arms and legs feel cooler. It escalates at some point into what he can only describe as a super nasty sour feeling that radiates through his body before starting to feel better. He feels like he's going to throw up constantly for about half an hour or so. The better his stomach feels, the more fatigued he begins to feel. At least with the fatigue he's not in pain.
He has definate mood swings. One minute we're laughing and joking, the next he's irritated with my teasing and wants to be alone. I'm learning to deal with it. My job as his wife is to try to stay as even keel as possible throughout this whole ordeal.
He's still having break outs. He's taking this stuff that makes him so sick, and it's not supressing his breakouts at all.
I hate cyclosporine. I hate the way it makes him feel. I hate that I can't make him better. I hate that it doesn't make him better.
And most of all I hate how it's made us lose hope. We've lost hope that he'll remain in the Air Force. We've lost hope that they'll let him appeal. We know this is the beginning of the end. Of that, we're both certain. And even if they do let him appeal, we doubt they'd decide anything different.
It's hard. It's so freaking hard. We make jokes about the movie "Fun with Dick and Jane." You know that scene where they sell their nice BMW family car and get a crappy teensy two door car that's falling apart? We joke about having to trade in our Focus, which we just bought a little over a year ago before this process started, and getting teensy car. We joke about having to sell our TV to have money to pay our bills.
And then we have a serious discussion about it. About what stays and what goes if things start to get bad. About welfare, medicaid, food stamps, and government assistance programs that we'll need to join. About living with parents and applying for jobs at McDonald's or Denny's or Burger King until we can find jobs better suited for us. About who will watch Jilly while we work, and about watching our dreams for our family crumble. About if I should go ahead and move back to Ohio with Jilly and try to find a job while we still have a main income, so I can take my time and find something I'd like to do, instead of have to do.
I keep it together, for the most part. I wait until I'm away from Marshall and Jilly, usually when I'm in the shower, to lose it. The hardest part for me is knowing that I'm probably going to have to leave Jilly. My dream was always to be able to stay home with my children. I love being home with her. But is that an option when you and your husband are going to be unemployed, or do you have to go find work, at least for a little while?
There's a constant knot in the pit of my stomach. I just want him to get better. Not just so he can keep the career he's so proud to be building, but so he can feel better. I want him to get better so bad it hurts. It makes me angry. It makes me question why. Why is this happening to him? It makes me question God.
I want so much for my family, especially my daughter. I want her to have a mommy who can stay home with her and raise her, and a daddy who can provide for her. I want to be able to buy her nice things, take her places, go on vacations. And I'm so scared, with the economy the way it is, that Marshall won't be able to find a good job. One that makes him proud, and has benefits, and gives us enough to live off of so I can continue being a full time mommy to Jillian.
I'm terrified.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
My first real Mother's Day
On my very first Mother's Day, my husband surprised me with a bottle of Victoria's Secret Love Spell, a bouquet of flowers, and a cute card saying something along the lines of being for "A Mom-to-be on Mother's Day." We were celebrating becoming parents to the being inside who was around 8 weeks along. I was showered with "Happy Mother's Days" from loving friends and family. My mom even made me a homemade Mother-to-be's Day card in celebration. What we didn't know then, was that two weeks later I'd be receiving another bouquet of flowers from my husband, and more wishes from others, but this time in mourning of the life that should have been. That was Mother's Day 2009, and before that terrible moment that changed me forever, I celebrated and was happy.
Mother's Day 2010 was a very hard day for me. I had one miscarriage and a chemical pregnancy at the beginning of the year under my belt, and felt sad that I didn't get to celebrate being a mother. My husband wished me a "Happy Mother's Day," saying that although our baby was gone, I was still a mom to that little one, regardless of the fact that we never got to meet. I was very torn. Each card or sign I saw posted made me feel a weird mix of happiness and longing. Mainly just longing. I quietly wished myself a Happy Mother's Day, and went on with the day, hoping someone would notice that I wanted to be wished well, too. I was after all a mother. But I felt very odd. Do you celebrate when you don't have any children here on earth, or when your children didn't even get to take a first breath of air? It was a bittersweet day, and another reminder of the life and dreams I had lost. Little did I know then that there was a little baby growing in my belly. I wouldn't find that out for an ironic two more weeks. (The symmetry between my first and second pregnancies is unbelievably creepy. Perhaps another time.)
This year, Mother's Day 2011, is the first Mother's Day in which I have a living child to celebrate with. So this day, I celebrate her, not me. I thank the Lord above for the wonderful blessing he's given me in Jillian. I don't think I've ever given God as much thanks and praise as I have since Jilly's arrived. Since she's come into my life, I thank God for her at least once as hour. She smiles, and I'll send up a silent prayer of gratitude. The same when she giggles. The same when she looks at me. When she blinks. When she cries. When she eats. When she sleeps. Pretty much when she does anything. I doubted I would be blessed with a child, and now I have a baby to love, to hold, and to feel her love back. Unlike the Mother's Day of the past, I can wrap my daughter up in a big hug and feel her snuggle into me.
We went to the Gartenschau in downtown Kaiserslautern, where I watched my little girl take in the scenery and people around her. And she "played" in a park for the first time. We had a few groups of German ladies stop to tell us she was pretty and say hello. (My small German vocabulary at least gave me some indication of what they were talking about, lol.)
And that, folks, is what Mother's Day is all about. For all those days when we hold, we love, we kiss, we hug, we comfort, we cry with, we watch, we marvel at, we feel frustration with, we protect our children. For all those times when we look at them with disbelief that something so wonderful could be ours. For all those moments when we feel so much love swelling in our hearts that we feel we might explode heart shaped confetti from out chests. This day is for us.
Thank you, God, for giving me a reason to celebrate today. You have blessed me beyond what I deserve.
Mother's Day 2010 was a very hard day for me. I had one miscarriage and a chemical pregnancy at the beginning of the year under my belt, and felt sad that I didn't get to celebrate being a mother. My husband wished me a "Happy Mother's Day," saying that although our baby was gone, I was still a mom to that little one, regardless of the fact that we never got to meet. I was very torn. Each card or sign I saw posted made me feel a weird mix of happiness and longing. Mainly just longing. I quietly wished myself a Happy Mother's Day, and went on with the day, hoping someone would notice that I wanted to be wished well, too. I was after all a mother. But I felt very odd. Do you celebrate when you don't have any children here on earth, or when your children didn't even get to take a first breath of air? It was a bittersweet day, and another reminder of the life and dreams I had lost. Little did I know then that there was a little baby growing in my belly. I wouldn't find that out for an ironic two more weeks. (The symmetry between my first and second pregnancies is unbelievably creepy. Perhaps another time.)
This year, Mother's Day 2011, is the first Mother's Day in which I have a living child to celebrate with. So this day, I celebrate her, not me. I thank the Lord above for the wonderful blessing he's given me in Jillian. I don't think I've ever given God as much thanks and praise as I have since Jilly's arrived. Since she's come into my life, I thank God for her at least once as hour. She smiles, and I'll send up a silent prayer of gratitude. The same when she giggles. The same when she looks at me. When she blinks. When she cries. When she eats. When she sleeps. Pretty much when she does anything. I doubted I would be blessed with a child, and now I have a baby to love, to hold, and to feel her love back. Unlike the Mother's Day of the past, I can wrap my daughter up in a big hug and feel her snuggle into me.
We went to the Gartenschau in downtown Kaiserslautern, where I watched my little girl take in the scenery and people around her. And she "played" in a park for the first time. We had a few groups of German ladies stop to tell us she was pretty and say hello. (My small German vocabulary at least gave me some indication of what they were talking about, lol.)
And that, folks, is what Mother's Day is all about. For all those days when we hold, we love, we kiss, we hug, we comfort, we cry with, we watch, we marvel at, we feel frustration with, we protect our children. For all those times when we look at them with disbelief that something so wonderful could be ours. For all those moments when we feel so much love swelling in our hearts that we feel we might explode heart shaped confetti from out chests. This day is for us.
Thank you, God, for giving me a reason to celebrate today. You have blessed me beyond what I deserve.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Return of the Foodie
Yes, that's right. I finally am making another food post! Can you hear the crowd cheering? And by crowd I mean me. Woooot!
I've been out of the loop in inventive cooking since Jilly's been born. You would think I'd have to be more creative and find options that are quick and easy to eat one handed, but let me tell you, that kid rules this house. Most nights Marshall is working, and it's much easier for me to heat up that Lean Cuisine than invent a cuisine of my own. And on days when I do have time to cook, I've been making the same things over and over. (I did, however, make a pretty tasty pork tenderloin for Easter, if I do say so myself, using a glaze made of Catalina dressing and honey, and a sprinkling of chili powder, garlic powder, rosemary, and something else which escapes me at the moment. It was yummy.)
But tonight, my readers, it was on. I felt the itch. I needed to invent something. But what?
History lesson: Today is Cinco de Mayo. Which, in America, is a holiday where college students and those wild and crazy peeps without kids drink Tequila and Margaritas and Corona and Dos Equis while doing a drunken Mexican Hat Dance in celebration of something or other that happened in Mexico. In short, Cinco de Mayo is an excuse to drink for us Americans. I'm celebrating by drinking a small glass of Moscato. Party hardy.
In honor of this holiday, I invented a new recipe I appropriately call "The Chixican Hat Dance." It's a skillet dish (my favorite), and is not very healthy, but very, very tasty. And of course I made enough for a small army so we have plenty of leftovers for the next night or so. Here's what I had.
~ 1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2 inch wide strips
~ Taco seasonings (I make my own out of chili powder, ground cumin, paprika, garlic powder, and minced onion
~ 3/4 cup water, divided
~ 2 cups white rice, cooked
~ 1 cup thick n chunky salsa (I use medium)
~ 1 cup Frozen bell pepper strips, thawed
~ 1 can whole kernel corn
~ 1 cup Shredded Monterey Jack or Cheddar cheese*
And here's what I did.
Heat a small amount of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken and cook 10 minutes, turning the chicken strips every few minutes or so. Sprinkle with taco seasonings and add in 1/2 cup water. Heat to simmering, turning chicken strips every few minutes. Once chicken has finished cooking through (approx. 5 more minutes), remove chicken from skillet. Reduce heat to low. Add in 1/4 cup water, white rice, and salsa. Mix together. Add in pepper strips and corn. Mix together. Place chicken on top. Smother with cheese and serve.
The finished product, which is tastier than it looked.
It was so, so yummy! Next time, though, I'm going to add in a can of black beans. I didn't have any in the cupboard this time.
It's nice to get back to doing something I love!
* I put one cup of cheese, but I just sprinkled over top to cover. Use as much or as little as your heart desires!
I've been out of the loop in inventive cooking since Jilly's been born. You would think I'd have to be more creative and find options that are quick and easy to eat one handed, but let me tell you, that kid rules this house. Most nights Marshall is working, and it's much easier for me to heat up that Lean Cuisine than invent a cuisine of my own. And on days when I do have time to cook, I've been making the same things over and over. (I did, however, make a pretty tasty pork tenderloin for Easter, if I do say so myself, using a glaze made of Catalina dressing and honey, and a sprinkling of chili powder, garlic powder, rosemary, and something else which escapes me at the moment. It was yummy.)
But tonight, my readers, it was on. I felt the itch. I needed to invent something. But what?
History lesson: Today is Cinco de Mayo. Which, in America, is a holiday where college students and those wild and crazy peeps without kids drink Tequila and Margaritas and Corona and Dos Equis while doing a drunken Mexican Hat Dance in celebration of something or other that happened in Mexico. In short, Cinco de Mayo is an excuse to drink for us Americans. I'm celebrating by drinking a small glass of Moscato. Party hardy.
In honor of this holiday, I invented a new recipe I appropriately call "The Chixican Hat Dance." It's a skillet dish (my favorite), and is not very healthy, but very, very tasty. And of course I made enough for a small army so we have plenty of leftovers for the next night or so. Here's what I had.
~ 1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2 inch wide strips
~ Taco seasonings (I make my own out of chili powder, ground cumin, paprika, garlic powder, and minced onion
~ 3/4 cup water, divided
~ 2 cups white rice, cooked
~ 1 cup thick n chunky salsa (I use medium)
~ 1 cup Frozen bell pepper strips, thawed
~ 1 can whole kernel corn
~ 1 cup Shredded Monterey Jack or Cheddar cheese*
And here's what I did.
Heat a small amount of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken and cook 10 minutes, turning the chicken strips every few minutes or so. Sprinkle with taco seasonings and add in 1/2 cup water. Heat to simmering, turning chicken strips every few minutes. Once chicken has finished cooking through (approx. 5 more minutes), remove chicken from skillet. Reduce heat to low. Add in 1/4 cup water, white rice, and salsa. Mix together. Add in pepper strips and corn. Mix together. Place chicken on top. Smother with cheese and serve.
The finished product, which is tastier than it looked.
It's nice to get back to doing something I love!
* I put one cup of cheese, but I just sprinkled over top to cover. Use as much or as little as your heart desires!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Amazing!
Being a woman is amazing. It really is. Some days I feel like a superhero. Today is one of those days.
Being a woman means that I got to feel life growing inside me. A life that started as small as the period at the end of this sentence, and grew from that tiny dot to an almost eight pound, fully formed little human being in nine months time. My body sheltered her and provided for her. Every detail of her little body, from her dark brown hair to her teeny little toenails, grew with my help. And when this tiny little girl was ready, my body got her out into this world. Nine months of work met the world with 14 hours of work, from the first drip of pitocin to the final push. And in a matter of weeks my body healed itself and went back to it's normal, not pregnant state.
And her she is, three months later, and still being nourished by me. My body continues to provide everything she needs to grow and thrive. From 20 inches long and 7 pounds 14 ounces at birth, my sweet little girl is now 24.5 inches long and 14 pounds 11 ounces. In three months, she's grown an astounding four and a half inches and is almost 7 pounds heavier. She is growing by leaps and bounds, and it is all because of me. My milk makes her grow this much.
And that makes me feel like a superhero.
Being a woman means that I got to feel life growing inside me. A life that started as small as the period at the end of this sentence, and grew from that tiny dot to an almost eight pound, fully formed little human being in nine months time. My body sheltered her and provided for her. Every detail of her little body, from her dark brown hair to her teeny little toenails, grew with my help. And when this tiny little girl was ready, my body got her out into this world. Nine months of work met the world with 14 hours of work, from the first drip of pitocin to the final push. And in a matter of weeks my body healed itself and went back to it's normal, not pregnant state.
And her she is, three months later, and still being nourished by me. My body continues to provide everything she needs to grow and thrive. From 20 inches long and 7 pounds 14 ounces at birth, my sweet little girl is now 24.5 inches long and 14 pounds 11 ounces. In three months, she's grown an astounding four and a half inches and is almost 7 pounds heavier. She is growing by leaps and bounds, and it is all because of me. My milk makes her grow this much.
And that makes me feel like a superhero.
Friday, April 22, 2011
For those who asked about cloth diapering...
Let me begin by saying I am no expert. I am just a beginner. But now that I've started, I love it! And when I love something, I love sharing that something.
Lots of people have asked me in recent days about cloth diapers. Personally, when I was pregnant I thought briefly about it, but when Marshall said "No way!" I didn't argue, thinking I didn't want to mess with pins and poop anyway. I didn't really look much into it, and didn't think anyone really did cloth diapering anymore anyway. It was pushed out of my mind. The end. Little did I know that even with disposables I'd have to touch and deal with baby poop anyway!
After Jilly was born, a friend of mine (hi, Krystal!) started talking to me a bit about cloth diapering. I saw pictures of her sons wearing cloth diapers and thought, "Wow, those are really cute! Is that what cloth diapering is?" Krystal sent me a diaper to inspect and try, and I was super surprised how cute and easy to use it was. So I started asking her a million questions, and started doing some research on my own. She gave me some great links to sites that sell diapers, and I saw that I could make it as expensive or affordable and I wanted. And it wasn't too expensive to start either. So I started buying diapers, detergent, pail liners, wet/dry bags, and became so excited to start.
Lots of people have asked me in recent days how this works. So, I made a little tutorial of pictures to post here. This will show you all what they look like and how to use them. I think you'll be surprised. I know I was.
There's a few different types of cloth diapers, but what I settled on are pocket diapers. These come in two components: the cover and the insert.
Pocket diapers are so called because the diaper is a pocket that you stuff th insert into. As if you couldn't figure that out for yourselves, hee hee.
While they do sell cloth in sizes, the most economical option is the one size cloth diaper. The one size diaper contains a row of snaps to adjust the length of the diaper.
The snaps on our Sunbaby diapers give you three settings for length. Unsapped is large, snapped to the top row is medium, and snapped to the bottom is a small. Jilly wears a medium right now, so I snapped the diaper to the top row.
After adjusting the diaper to the correct size if needed, you slip the insert into the pocket.
I put the diaper on Jilly's favortie stuffed animal for viewing purposes. Putting on the diaper is really easy. They go on just like a disposable. There's a row of snaps for a hip adjustment and a row for the width adjustment.
And voila! You have a fully diapered baby (err...stuffed giraffe).
When the diaper is dirty, you just take it off (duh), and separate the insert from the cover before throwing it in your diaper pail. I like to just untuck the insert a little bit and shake it into the pail, that way I don't have to really touch it too much. I give it a quick spritz of a water and baking soda solution before throwing it in there, too, just to help keep smells to a minimum. I've run across a few tricks like that on the internet. I don't get any more dirty than I do changing a disposable.
After they're clean, I go ahead and set them to the right size and stuff them. Then I throw them back in the laundry basket and and just the basket of clean diapers by her changing station.
I grab as I need them. Super easy-peasy! It's exciting to give her a new cute look every two hours or so. Today she's wearing an Indians T-shirt from Auntie Bre-Bre and whatever diapers I fancy. Every diaper change she gets a super cute butt. I love it!
Hope this answers some of your questions. Gotta go feed by Jillybean now. She's starting to wake up from her nap!
Lots of people have asked me in recent days about cloth diapers. Personally, when I was pregnant I thought briefly about it, but when Marshall said "No way!" I didn't argue, thinking I didn't want to mess with pins and poop anyway. I didn't really look much into it, and didn't think anyone really did cloth diapering anymore anyway. It was pushed out of my mind. The end. Little did I know that even with disposables I'd have to touch and deal with baby poop anyway!
After Jilly was born, a friend of mine (hi, Krystal!) started talking to me a bit about cloth diapering. I saw pictures of her sons wearing cloth diapers and thought, "Wow, those are really cute! Is that what cloth diapering is?" Krystal sent me a diaper to inspect and try, and I was super surprised how cute and easy to use it was. So I started asking her a million questions, and started doing some research on my own. She gave me some great links to sites that sell diapers, and I saw that I could make it as expensive or affordable and I wanted. And it wasn't too expensive to start either. So I started buying diapers, detergent, pail liners, wet/dry bags, and became so excited to start.
Lots of people have asked me in recent days how this works. So, I made a little tutorial of pictures to post here. This will show you all what they look like and how to use them. I think you'll be surprised. I know I was.
There's a few different types of cloth diapers, but what I settled on are pocket diapers. These come in two components: the cover and the insert.
 |
| On left, the cover. On right, the insert. |
 |
| The pocket |
 |
| The vertical rows of snaps are to adjust the length. |
 |
| Super easy! |
 |
| Your whole hand can easily fit into the pocket, so slipping in the insert is quick and easy. |
 |
| The stuffed diaiper (and hi, Lisa feet!) |
 |
| The many snaps let you get the diaper as tight around as you need, and the hip snaps help keep in the poo. |
 |
| The tab of the diaper contains three snaps, one for the hip, and two for extra hold around the waist. |
 |
| George Girraffe is super confy in his fluffy butt |
 |
| Slightly untucked so I can shake it right out |
 |
| I put the dirties right into my hanging wet bag. Once I get my big trash can for in here, this will line the can. I bought bags made out of the same material as the diapers, so when it's time to wash them I can carry this whole thing downstairs, empty it into the washer, and throw my bag right in there with the diapers and wash it all at once. I bought two bags, so I can swap them out with the dirties. Super convenient and easy! |
 |
| Clean fluff! |
Hope this answers some of your questions. Gotta go feed by Jillybean now. She's starting to wake up from her nap!
Monday, March 28, 2011
Springtime! Outside!
It's springtime here in Germany, and that means the flowers are starting to bloom, trees are starting to bud, and the weather is becoming downright gorgeous. We've had temps in the 70's the past few days (or at least mid to high 60's), the sun has been shining for at least part of the day, and the breeze is cool without being cold. Perfect weather to enjoy being outside.
I used to daydream about having a baby to take outside when the weather is nice, to sit on the lawn and play. In my little fantasy, the baby would be happy to be enjoying the fresh air with Mommy. We would play, maybe look at a book, and in the end the baby would fall asleep on the blanket in the grass, snuggled up under my arm, and I would look at the clouds or read a book of my own while enjoying the sunshine-y day.
Now that I have a baby, I could not wait to make this a reality. The first day I tried this, she was already having a super grumpy day. So when she just laid there like this:
I thought it was just because she was having a bad day. When she started crying, I thought, Well, this is no different than what she's been doing all day today, poor girl, and we went back inside. I was convinced it was not because she hated the outside, and was determined to try again later.
Yesterday, the weather was beautiful and my baby was super happy. So I packed up a laundry basket with my big playmat, toys and a book for her, her bumbo seat, a blanket, my nursing cover, water and a snack for me, and a book for me optimistically thinking maybe she'll take a nap outside (another of my favorite spring and summer activities) and I can lay down with her and read my book. Then I put her in my sling and walked out.
For a few minutes, we sat there together, feeling the spring breeze on our faces and basking in the sun. She was happy and content. I took her out of the sling and put her down on the mat on her tummy, which is her favorite way to play right now. Then I grabbed the camera ready for her normal tummy-time smiles, and ready to capture our playing outside on film. Instead, I got this:
Apparently, my daughter hates playing outside. She likes walks. She likes being in the ring sling outside. Just not on the ground. Can you hear the sound of my shattered daydream? Hee hee. I guess we'll try again at a later date. I think it's kind of funny, but I can't believe how much she hates the outside right now. We'll keep trying when she's a little older, but for now we'll be content with tummy time in the house.
I used to daydream about having a baby to take outside when the weather is nice, to sit on the lawn and play. In my little fantasy, the baby would be happy to be enjoying the fresh air with Mommy. We would play, maybe look at a book, and in the end the baby would fall asleep on the blanket in the grass, snuggled up under my arm, and I would look at the clouds or read a book of my own while enjoying the sunshine-y day.
Now that I have a baby, I could not wait to make this a reality. The first day I tried this, she was already having a super grumpy day. So when she just laid there like this:
Yesterday, the weather was beautiful and my baby was super happy. So I packed up a laundry basket with my big playmat, toys and a book for her, her bumbo seat, a blanket, my nursing cover, water and a snack for me, and a book for me optimistically thinking maybe she'll take a nap outside (another of my favorite spring and summer activities) and I can lay down with her and read my book. Then I put her in my sling and walked out.
For a few minutes, we sat there together, feeling the spring breeze on our faces and basking in the sun. She was happy and content. I took her out of the sling and put her down on the mat on her tummy, which is her favorite way to play right now. Then I grabbed the camera ready for her normal tummy-time smiles, and ready to capture our playing outside on film. Instead, I got this:
Monday, February 21, 2011
"I would NEVER do that!"
Before I begin, and in my defense, I never actually said those words in regard to parenting. I'm a "to each their own" kind of girl, so I didn't do the stereotypical when pregnant "I would never let my baby to this," or "I would never do that with my child," kind of thing that a lot of women supposedly do. I try really hard to stay open-minded in all things, especially things that I have no experience in, such as raising babies. :) That being said, I'm surprised to find that I did have a few preconceived notions of things I thought I wouldn't do, and am now surprised to find myself doing on a regular basis, and things that I swore I would do religiously that I just don't.
Biggest case in point: bed-sharing. I swore up and down that there was no way I would let my baby sleep in bed with us. It is so dangerous! What if I roll over on her in the middle of the night? Eek! Plus, it only makes it harder for her to get used to sleeping on her own.
She started off in her bassinet. By the end of the first week of her life, I still had not gotten a good night's sleep even though she was sleeping up to 4 hours at a time. I was constantly getting up and peering into the bassinet to make sure she was still sleeping and that she was breathing. We were having problems with breastfeeding on top of it all, and I was super stressed out. I opened up a couple of the books I have on breastfeeding, and they all said the same thing: put the baby in your bed for a day or two of nothing but sleeping and breastfeeding. Spend that time getting to know each other with no distractions. So, I grabbed Jilly and climbed into bed one night with her. She scooched herself right into me and fell straight to sleep, and so did I. I slept better than I ever slept. If I woke up to check on her, she was right there with me, so I barely have to rouse out of sleep to be sure she's okay. Happy mama = happy baby. Yay!
Still, I felt guilty. I caved in on something that was a solid stance in my eyes. Isn't it wrong to have your baby with you in bed? Marshall and I discussed it a few times, and he was never bothered by her being in bed with us. He sleeps on the left, I sleep in the middle, and Jilly sleeps on the right with my arm tucked around her safely and a rolled up blanket behind her. Then, a ran across this article talking about the benefits of co-sleeping. No more mommy guilt, yay!
So here's what I've discovered. Jilly and I went breastfeeding pro a few days after I put her in my bed. Seriously, I call her "Barracuda Baby" when she eats because it's a chomp and gulp that reminds me of an animal attacking it's prey. We both sleep better and longer. Ironically, I usually wake up just before her when it's time to eat. I'll stir, notice her stir, then wake up, then she'll wake up. So by the time she's fully awake to eat at night or in the morning, I've already gotten enough wits about me to know what's going on. (Fortunately for me, my daughter and I wake up the same: slowly and drowsily.) Since sleeping together, there has not been ONE time where she's woken me up by crying or fussing. Even on the rare occasion she wakes up before me, it can't be that long she's awake because I wake and look at her to see her staring at me like "Oh, hi Mommy! It's boob time! Wake up!" But no fussing. It's like we are so in tune together that we can read each others' minds. Freaky! Freak-ay!
My favorite things about bed-sharing that made me decide to keep doing it are as follows (well, actually there's a ton of things I love, but I'm narrowing it down to a few here):
- We sleep skin-to-skin. I'm down to my sports bra style super comfy nursing bra and undies, and she's down to her diaper. More skin-to-skin means happier baby and mommy, at least for us. I luuuurv (that's love in strang language) feeling her baby soft skin against me as we snuggle off to dreamland.
- The first thing I see every morning is my baby. The first thing she sees when she wakes up is her mommy. The first thing we do upon waking and making eye contact is give each other a huge smile. There is nothing better in the entire universe than seeing your baby look at you and smile every single morning without fail. God, I love her!
- Rivalling that baby smile in heart melting ooey-gooey love is what she does when we lay down. I lay her on her back with her head resting slightly on my arm, so her head is about even with the bottom of my chin. She will roll onto her side, scooch herself right into me so we're pressed together, and look up at me until she falls asleep. Or she'll whine a bit until she gets her paci that she loves oh-so-much, then look at me and fall asleep.
- Lastly, for humor, because I think this is hilarious, sometimes I wake up because in her sleep, she has placed her baby mouth around my boob like it's chow time. Over my bra. She's not actually trying to eat, but I think it's hilarious because it's like she just wants to have it there for comfort. "Don't take that boob away, Mom. I'm just gonna put my mouth right here so that I know you're not taking it away."
I've never once even come close to rolling over on her like I was afraid of. Mommy instinct, I think. And it's really nice that we all get to cuddle together like a family. In a couple months, when she sleeps fully through the night, I'll start integrating her into her crib, and I think it'll be harder on me than her!
One more funny Jilly fact about her new skills and habits. She's discovered she has a voice. She'll look at me and coo, goo, and mostly growl and grunt, then smile and start the process over. We'll talk to each other, which she loves. Anyway, lately, her favorite thing to talk to is, you probably didn't guess this, my boobs. She'll eat a bit, pull off, and grunt and coo and smile at them for about 30 seconds to a minute, then chomp back on and eat again. I think it's the funniest thing I've ever seen. Her eyes get all big and she moves her hands and feet excitedly. I imagine she's thanking them for the meal they are providing her. She gets so excited about food!
Okay, that's enough of my random ramblings for today. Bottom line message is my daughter is awesome and I adore her! ♥
Biggest case in point: bed-sharing. I swore up and down that there was no way I would let my baby sleep in bed with us. It is so dangerous! What if I roll over on her in the middle of the night? Eek! Plus, it only makes it harder for her to get used to sleeping on her own.
She started off in her bassinet. By the end of the first week of her life, I still had not gotten a good night's sleep even though she was sleeping up to 4 hours at a time. I was constantly getting up and peering into the bassinet to make sure she was still sleeping and that she was breathing. We were having problems with breastfeeding on top of it all, and I was super stressed out. I opened up a couple of the books I have on breastfeeding, and they all said the same thing: put the baby in your bed for a day or two of nothing but sleeping and breastfeeding. Spend that time getting to know each other with no distractions. So, I grabbed Jilly and climbed into bed one night with her. She scooched herself right into me and fell straight to sleep, and so did I. I slept better than I ever slept. If I woke up to check on her, she was right there with me, so I barely have to rouse out of sleep to be sure she's okay. Happy mama = happy baby. Yay!
Still, I felt guilty. I caved in on something that was a solid stance in my eyes. Isn't it wrong to have your baby with you in bed? Marshall and I discussed it a few times, and he was never bothered by her being in bed with us. He sleeps on the left, I sleep in the middle, and Jilly sleeps on the right with my arm tucked around her safely and a rolled up blanket behind her. Then, a ran across this article talking about the benefits of co-sleeping. No more mommy guilt, yay!
So here's what I've discovered. Jilly and I went breastfeeding pro a few days after I put her in my bed. Seriously, I call her "Barracuda Baby" when she eats because it's a chomp and gulp that reminds me of an animal attacking it's prey. We both sleep better and longer. Ironically, I usually wake up just before her when it's time to eat. I'll stir, notice her stir, then wake up, then she'll wake up. So by the time she's fully awake to eat at night or in the morning, I've already gotten enough wits about me to know what's going on. (Fortunately for me, my daughter and I wake up the same: slowly and drowsily.) Since sleeping together, there has not been ONE time where she's woken me up by crying or fussing. Even on the rare occasion she wakes up before me, it can't be that long she's awake because I wake and look at her to see her staring at me like "Oh, hi Mommy! It's boob time! Wake up!" But no fussing. It's like we are so in tune together that we can read each others' minds. Freaky! Freak-ay!
My favorite things about bed-sharing that made me decide to keep doing it are as follows (well, actually there's a ton of things I love, but I'm narrowing it down to a few here):
- We sleep skin-to-skin. I'm down to my sports bra style super comfy nursing bra and undies, and she's down to her diaper. More skin-to-skin means happier baby and mommy, at least for us. I luuuurv (that's love in strang language) feeling her baby soft skin against me as we snuggle off to dreamland.
- The first thing I see every morning is my baby. The first thing she sees when she wakes up is her mommy. The first thing we do upon waking and making eye contact is give each other a huge smile. There is nothing better in the entire universe than seeing your baby look at you and smile every single morning without fail. God, I love her!
- Rivalling that baby smile in heart melting ooey-gooey love is what she does when we lay down. I lay her on her back with her head resting slightly on my arm, so her head is about even with the bottom of my chin. She will roll onto her side, scooch herself right into me so we're pressed together, and look up at me until she falls asleep. Or she'll whine a bit until she gets her paci that she loves oh-so-much, then look at me and fall asleep.
- Lastly, for humor, because I think this is hilarious, sometimes I wake up because in her sleep, she has placed her baby mouth around my boob like it's chow time. Over my bra. She's not actually trying to eat, but I think it's hilarious because it's like she just wants to have it there for comfort. "Don't take that boob away, Mom. I'm just gonna put my mouth right here so that I know you're not taking it away."
I've never once even come close to rolling over on her like I was afraid of. Mommy instinct, I think. And it's really nice that we all get to cuddle together like a family. In a couple months, when she sleeps fully through the night, I'll start integrating her into her crib, and I think it'll be harder on me than her!
One more funny Jilly fact about her new skills and habits. She's discovered she has a voice. She'll look at me and coo, goo, and mostly growl and grunt, then smile and start the process over. We'll talk to each other, which she loves. Anyway, lately, her favorite thing to talk to is, you probably didn't guess this, my boobs. She'll eat a bit, pull off, and grunt and coo and smile at them for about 30 seconds to a minute, then chomp back on and eat again. I think it's the funniest thing I've ever seen. Her eyes get all big and she moves her hands and feet excitedly. I imagine she's thanking them for the meal they are providing her. She gets so excited about food!
Okay, that's enough of my random ramblings for today. Bottom line message is my daughter is awesome and I adore her! ♥
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Marshall and the Med Board
The title of this post sounds like a bad children's book, lol. Anyway, for those of you who have been following Marshall's situation and the craziness that has found its way into our lives, I have an update for you!
To recap for a reminder if needed, and very briefly: Marshall started breaking out in hives after we moved here. It's been going on for a year and a half. After a year, they ("they" being Air Force peeps) decided to send him to a Physical Evaluation Board (aka Med Board) because they think hives are the devil for some odd reason, and that Marshall cannot possibly function on a day to day basis with his job if he breaks out in hives every so often. His first board came back with the shittiest judgement possible: discharge with severence pay and a 10% disability rating. Basically, they pooped on us. So, we decided to appeal to the formal board, meaning Marshall had to leave Feb. 2 to go to Texas to meet with this new board, in hopes that they would not poop on us and see how stupid it is to remove an excellent Airman from his duties because of stupid hives. (Whew, that was a giant rambling mouthful!)
Well, I'm really starting to think God is trying to tell us something with this. First off, my husband arrives with no problems on last Wednesday. Thursday, he meets with his attorney, who tells him that with Marshall's awesome APRs and the letters he had from supervisors saying he's #1 and how awesome he is, it should be no problem to get him returned to duty. Marshall calls me and tells me this, and we get excited and joyfully talk about how our lives can finally go back to normal after this. Woo hoo! Or at least as normal as they can be while adjusting to parenthood. His attorney was supposed to call him that afternoon and tell him when his hearing would be, but for some reason, Marshall never hears from him. We assume he'll call the next day.
Friday, Texas gets a freak snow storm of one inch of snow. The base shuts down. Marshall still doesn't know when his hearing is, and everything is closed. Saturday, I call Marshall's room for the first time. When he answers the phone, there's 30 seconds or so of nothingness before a tentative hello. Turns out, his room phone ringer doesn't work. A little light blinks to indicate a phone call, but no ring. He just happened to be sitting right next to the phone and catch the blinking when I called. So if anyone was trying to get a hold of him, they couldn't. A work order was placed for a new phone, which as of today he still has yet to receive.
Anyway, Monday morning he stops into the attorney's office first thing, and finds out his hearing was in half an hour. Score one for him for finding out just in time. Of course, they had been trying to call him, but since his phone doesn't ring he had no idea.
Marshall called me after his hearing feeling pretty confident. After all, his attorney was confident he would be returned to duty, and Marshall said they asked him questions such as "If you end up being in the 1% of people this doesn't go away for in a few years, what will you do?" We would be receiving an email in our home email with the results.
I checked the email like a hawk. A few hours later, we got the results. Discharge with severance and a 10% disability rating. The same thing as the first board. So apparently, hives really are the devil to the Air Force. We had just heard that someone just came back with a heart condition they were born with and they were returned to duty. Hives, apparently, are worse than a heart condition. Big exasperated sigh of confusion!
There's another board. This is a big one. He'll have a JAG officer as his attorney. Last night, he told me he's going to appeal this, too. So, we're back in medical limbo. This time, it'll be at least 6 months before he goes to this board (right now there's a 7 month backlog). He's got a really good plan for how we're going to spend this time waiting.
Okay, baby's up now, so that's all for now!
To recap for a reminder if needed, and very briefly: Marshall started breaking out in hives after we moved here. It's been going on for a year and a half. After a year, they ("they" being Air Force peeps) decided to send him to a Physical Evaluation Board (aka Med Board) because they think hives are the devil for some odd reason, and that Marshall cannot possibly function on a day to day basis with his job if he breaks out in hives every so often. His first board came back with the shittiest judgement possible: discharge with severence pay and a 10% disability rating. Basically, they pooped on us. So, we decided to appeal to the formal board, meaning Marshall had to leave Feb. 2 to go to Texas to meet with this new board, in hopes that they would not poop on us and see how stupid it is to remove an excellent Airman from his duties because of stupid hives. (Whew, that was a giant rambling mouthful!)
Well, I'm really starting to think God is trying to tell us something with this. First off, my husband arrives with no problems on last Wednesday. Thursday, he meets with his attorney, who tells him that with Marshall's awesome APRs and the letters he had from supervisors saying he's #1 and how awesome he is, it should be no problem to get him returned to duty. Marshall calls me and tells me this, and we get excited and joyfully talk about how our lives can finally go back to normal after this. Woo hoo! Or at least as normal as they can be while adjusting to parenthood. His attorney was supposed to call him that afternoon and tell him when his hearing would be, but for some reason, Marshall never hears from him. We assume he'll call the next day.
Friday, Texas gets a freak snow storm of one inch of snow. The base shuts down. Marshall still doesn't know when his hearing is, and everything is closed. Saturday, I call Marshall's room for the first time. When he answers the phone, there's 30 seconds or so of nothingness before a tentative hello. Turns out, his room phone ringer doesn't work. A little light blinks to indicate a phone call, but no ring. He just happened to be sitting right next to the phone and catch the blinking when I called. So if anyone was trying to get a hold of him, they couldn't. A work order was placed for a new phone, which as of today he still has yet to receive.
Anyway, Monday morning he stops into the attorney's office first thing, and finds out his hearing was in half an hour. Score one for him for finding out just in time. Of course, they had been trying to call him, but since his phone doesn't ring he had no idea.
Marshall called me after his hearing feeling pretty confident. After all, his attorney was confident he would be returned to duty, and Marshall said they asked him questions such as "If you end up being in the 1% of people this doesn't go away for in a few years, what will you do?" We would be receiving an email in our home email with the results.
I checked the email like a hawk. A few hours later, we got the results. Discharge with severance and a 10% disability rating. The same thing as the first board. So apparently, hives really are the devil to the Air Force. We had just heard that someone just came back with a heart condition they were born with and they were returned to duty. Hives, apparently, are worse than a heart condition. Big exasperated sigh of confusion!
There's another board. This is a big one. He'll have a JAG officer as his attorney. Last night, he told me he's going to appeal this, too. So, we're back in medical limbo. This time, it'll be at least 6 months before he goes to this board (right now there's a 7 month backlog). He's got a really good plan for how we're going to spend this time waiting.
Okay, baby's up now, so that's all for now!
Friday, February 4, 2011
Clockwork
I worried a lot before Jilly arrived about how to get her on a schedule. I kept trying to picture in my mind how exactly I would make it so she would understand when to sleep, eat, play, nap, etc., knowing that it would be important to do so, but baffled at how you get a baby to do those things. I'm surprised at the fact that she seems to have a schedule of her own that I've just adopted. Maybe I'm just lucky, but in my head I never pictured a two week old having any structure to her day. Although, I pictured a two week old as crying all the time, never sleeping, and pretty much doing nothing exciting or interesting besides laying there between crying and small amounts of sleep, to be honest. I was wrong.
Jillian's day is pretty much clockwork. We wake up at 7:30-7:45 a.m., get a fresh diaper, then eat breakfast in bed while Mommy watches the tail end of some celebrity gossip show on AFN and the start of Law & Order (which, for the record, doesn't interest me much but does make time go by much faster during feedings). We get up, Mommy puts on some music, and we sing, cuddle, dance, and play until shortly after 9:00 a.m. when we take our mid-morning nap. This is when Mommy enjoys a cup of hot tea, plays on the internet, writes blogs (sometimes, hee hee), and showers and gets ready for the day. We wake up a little after 11:00 and eat, then play and have tummy time and snuggle until 1:00 p.m., when we eat again then take our afternoon nap. Mommy sometimes sneaks a little nap here, too, or she calls her mommy for a nice chat. Around 3:30 we wake up and eat, then after snuggles have some bouncy chair or swing time to look around and make funny noises. We eat again at 6:00 or 6:30, depending on when Mommy decides to eat her own dinner (and we usually plan our food for as soon as she gets done fixing hers without fail). We spend some time on the couch playing with Mommy again or take a bath here instead, then at 8:00 we eat again, and then it's bed time. We wake up to eat at 11, sleep, 3 a.m., sleep, then start our day again at 7:30. Although we have occaisionally gone until 8:30 before waking up.
I'm really satisfied with this. She's always so happy, and that makes me happy. It's amazing to me how routine she is, and it makes it easy for me to plan my day. I feel so lucky to have such a cooperative little baby.
Seriously, I thought I'd have a terror on my hands. I wanted a baby so bad, I had myself convinced that when it finally happened I would have a demon child to deal with, because I couldn't possibly get lucky enough to finally have a baby and have her be perfect. But instead, I have a baby who's as close to perfect as you can get. It's baffling, lol.
Speaking of baffling (interesting segway here), Marshall is gone this week doing the Med Board thing. He left on the 2nd, and won't be back until the 10th. I'm getting pretty nervous about what the outcome of this will be. He did meet with his attorney yesterday afternoon, and his attorney is very confident he'll be able to get Marshall returned to duty. Yay! I hope this isn't just a case of giving us false hope. I don't want to rug ripped out from underneath us, so to speak. It makes me really happy to hear this though, and I could tell in talking to Marshall last night that he feels way better about the situation, too. So now we can just hope that the attorney is right and Marsh will still be an active duty Airman next week. His hearing will probably be on Monday. He has to get a few last minute things turned into the attorney today to show he's good at his job.
I wish I could be there with him. He's at Lackland Air Force Base right now for this, and won't have anything to do but relax this weekend. He's planning a trip to the Riverwalk for some shopping, and I jealously want to be there, too. I can imagine it in my head: me, Marsh, and Jilly strolling around, looking at all the stores and in the mall, stopping for some Mexican food (ooh chimichangas!), and enjoying our day together. I miss him a lot, especially in the evenings. Jilly can get kind of fussy right before her 11 p.m. feeding as I'm getting ready for bed and changing her diaper, and I really miss having him here to hold her while I brush my teeth and put my PJ's on. He'll be home soon, though, hopefully with good news. Hopefully I'll get a phone call from him today with an update on when his hearing is officially!
Jillian's day is pretty much clockwork. We wake up at 7:30-7:45 a.m., get a fresh diaper, then eat breakfast in bed while Mommy watches the tail end of some celebrity gossip show on AFN and the start of Law & Order (which, for the record, doesn't interest me much but does make time go by much faster during feedings). We get up, Mommy puts on some music, and we sing, cuddle, dance, and play until shortly after 9:00 a.m. when we take our mid-morning nap. This is when Mommy enjoys a cup of hot tea, plays on the internet, writes blogs (sometimes, hee hee), and showers and gets ready for the day. We wake up a little after 11:00 and eat, then play and have tummy time and snuggle until 1:00 p.m., when we eat again then take our afternoon nap. Mommy sometimes sneaks a little nap here, too, or she calls her mommy for a nice chat. Around 3:30 we wake up and eat, then after snuggles have some bouncy chair or swing time to look around and make funny noises. We eat again at 6:00 or 6:30, depending on when Mommy decides to eat her own dinner (and we usually plan our food for as soon as she gets done fixing hers without fail). We spend some time on the couch playing with Mommy again or take a bath here instead, then at 8:00 we eat again, and then it's bed time. We wake up to eat at 11, sleep, 3 a.m., sleep, then start our day again at 7:30. Although we have occaisionally gone until 8:30 before waking up.
I'm really satisfied with this. She's always so happy, and that makes me happy. It's amazing to me how routine she is, and it makes it easy for me to plan my day. I feel so lucky to have such a cooperative little baby.
Seriously, I thought I'd have a terror on my hands. I wanted a baby so bad, I had myself convinced that when it finally happened I would have a demon child to deal with, because I couldn't possibly get lucky enough to finally have a baby and have her be perfect. But instead, I have a baby who's as close to perfect as you can get. It's baffling, lol.
Speaking of baffling (interesting segway here), Marshall is gone this week doing the Med Board thing. He left on the 2nd, and won't be back until the 10th. I'm getting pretty nervous about what the outcome of this will be. He did meet with his attorney yesterday afternoon, and his attorney is very confident he'll be able to get Marshall returned to duty. Yay! I hope this isn't just a case of giving us false hope. I don't want to rug ripped out from underneath us, so to speak. It makes me really happy to hear this though, and I could tell in talking to Marshall last night that he feels way better about the situation, too. So now we can just hope that the attorney is right and Marsh will still be an active duty Airman next week. His hearing will probably be on Monday. He has to get a few last minute things turned into the attorney today to show he's good at his job.
I wish I could be there with him. He's at Lackland Air Force Base right now for this, and won't have anything to do but relax this weekend. He's planning a trip to the Riverwalk for some shopping, and I jealously want to be there, too. I can imagine it in my head: me, Marsh, and Jilly strolling around, looking at all the stores and in the mall, stopping for some Mexican food (ooh chimichangas!), and enjoying our day together. I miss him a lot, especially in the evenings. Jilly can get kind of fussy right before her 11 p.m. feeding as I'm getting ready for bed and changing her diaper, and I really miss having him here to hold her while I brush my teeth and put my PJ's on. He'll be home soon, though, hopefully with good news. Hopefully I'll get a phone call from him today with an update on when his hearing is officially!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Things I've learned about being a Mother
Jillian is 11 days old now, and we're starting to get into a routine. We're settling nicely into our mother-daughter roles. The transition has been both the hardest and the easiest things I've ever done: hard to have to change how I do every little thing, yet easy because of how natural and welcome the change seems to be. She's almost 2 weeks old already, and she's changed so much, both in looks and behavior. She's awake a lot more throughout the day. She's a great sleeper though, I'm one of the lucky ones. We usually go to sleep after our 11 feeding, and then wake up at 3, then at 7 for the day. Then we take a midmorning nap from around 9-11, and then we're up and alert for the rest of the day. We're just starting to be awake enough to do some tummy time. It's amazing to me how well she can lift her head! I had her sitting in her boppy pillow so it was kind of propping her up, and I'm not joking Jilly was trying to sit up. Smart little girl!
I've learned more in the past 11 days about myself and life in general than I realized I could in such a short time. Now, I'm sharing some of my favorite, sometimes funny, things that I've learned about mommyhood with all of you.
- Babies poop. A lot. I obviously knew already that babies would need to go #2, but I didn't realize how much! She is a poop factory! Maybe it's because she's still getting rid of some of the jaundice, but she poops with almost every diaper. And it smells. Whoever said breastfed babies don't have smelly poop is a liar!
- Learning to breastfeed was the hardest, most nervewracking experience of my life. Those first few days were brutal. She cried constantly, I was constantly trying to get her to eat, and a lot of the time she wouldn't even latch on. I cried more about breastfeeding before my milk came in than I've cried about almost anything. It's a helpless feeling as you're trying to get your baby to eat and they won't. But once my milk came in, this little girl turned into a piggy! Now, it's the best decision I could have made and I am so happy to do it for her.
- Guys still get to sleep 8 hours a night uninterrupted, and will still complain the next day about not getting a good night's rest. Seriously, I've just let this one go. I get up with her, change her, feed her, and get her back to sleep while he snores away. It doesn't bother me much, but it cracks me up when I hear him telling his friends the next day how tired he is from having that new baby in the house.
- Daddy can be the biggest and best help you could possibly ask for, especially when they love baby as much as Marshall love Jilly. He's always more than willing to hold and snuggle her when I need to do something and she's being fussy. He'll take her in for a nap, and lay there cuddling her for a while. He loves us both, and treats us both so wonderfully. He's helped me every step of the way wholeheartedly. I wish his parents could be here to see him be such an amazing dad. They would be so proud to see him. I know I am. ♥
- No matter how prepared you think you are to become a mom, when the moment is finally upon you, you realize a.) you don't know jack about being a mother, b.) you're expected to take care of this person yourself, with no one to do it for you, and c.) you are terrified to your core. My nurse said 70% of new moms have a breakdown at the hospital, and the other 30% have one at home. Mine was at the hospital, when I was being released. I'll be honest, I was terrified, having a panic attack, about how I was having trouble breastfeeding and now I had to take her home. Who was going to help me? Aaaahh! After arriving home, we adjusted pretty quickly. I guess I just needed to get all those fears out before moving forward.
- Swelling doesn't end when the pregnancy does. In fact, it can get much worse. All that water and extra blood has to go somewhere. For many, it disperses itself throughout various parts of the body. For me, it all went into my ankles and feet. I had tree trunk legs for almost a week before finally getting back to normal.
- Breastfeeding means a lot of work for the mommy, especially when your child is like mine and won't take a bottle of pumped milk for anything. All she wants is the boob! But it is so rewarding. I cannot imagine doing anything else. I need it just as much as she does now. Plus, it helps everything shrink back up quicker, and I am loving that!
- The stares from strangers doesn't end when the pregnancy does, either. Just instead of staring at you for being so big they're trying to figure out how you're even able to be upright, they're staring at your little baby. It's okay, but when they try to touch, then I bite. :)
- Explosvie farts. Enough said.
- Babies don't care if the diaper is off, or if you've just cleaned off a massive poop-plosion and they're all clean and shiny again. They'll poop on you and not even think twice. Or they'll pee, sending a river of ickies all over themselves, you, and the changing station.
- The sick kids at the pediatricians office waiting room are the most horrifying things ever. Seriously, every time we go in for a doctor's appointment and a snot covered 2 year old starts running over to us pointing at the baby and trying to touch her, I want to curl up into a protective ball around her and start hissing like a cat in a turf war.
- It can be frustrating when you're trying to get something accomplished and little baby is being a fuss and only wants to be held by you. But it's equal parts frustration and amazement, since it's also the coolest feeling ever to know that she needs you, and wants you, and loves you enough to be upset when you let her go. ♥
- Hearing your baby cry when you are unable to get to her (like when you're in the shower) or unable to get her to calm down is the most heartbreaking experience.
- Best, most warm and fuzzy inducing moments of my life: when she's laying on me with her chest against mine sleeping, and she snuggles her head right up under my chin.
- Nature really does make you forget. For the first week I would get nauseous just thinking about the possibility of going through pregnancy and labor again, and now I'm already starting to forget the horrors and think about labor with amazement. I'm trying to remind myself how much it sucked, but I just can't remember being 9 months pregnant, or how bad exactly it hurt to have her coming out of me. For an experience so painful, it's a wonder to me that I'm starting to forget about it!
- Her smile.
- The number one thing I've learned, though, is that no one could possibly have prepared me for how overwhelming and wonderful my love for her would be. Sometimes, I look at her in total amazement and get all teary eyed just because she's mine. We like to stare at each other. I feel pride, happiness, tenderness, love, and just about every positive emotion on the planet. I still can't believe she's mine.
I want her to stay this little forever. I'm cherishing every day and each moment, because she's changing so quickly. Some day she'll be a little girl instead of a baby, and I want to remember exactly what this feels like. I love being a mommy! This is exactly what I was meant to do with my life. I thank God every day for this little sweetheart he's brought into my life. By the way, as I'm writing this list I keep adding more and more things at the last minute that are amazing to me. It seems I can't stop thinking about things I love about being a mommy to Jillian. I'm cutting myself off now, before this turns into a book.
I've learned more in the past 11 days about myself and life in general than I realized I could in such a short time. Now, I'm sharing some of my favorite, sometimes funny, things that I've learned about mommyhood with all of you.
- Babies poop. A lot. I obviously knew already that babies would need to go #2, but I didn't realize how much! She is a poop factory! Maybe it's because she's still getting rid of some of the jaundice, but she poops with almost every diaper. And it smells. Whoever said breastfed babies don't have smelly poop is a liar!
- Learning to breastfeed was the hardest, most nervewracking experience of my life. Those first few days were brutal. She cried constantly, I was constantly trying to get her to eat, and a lot of the time she wouldn't even latch on. I cried more about breastfeeding before my milk came in than I've cried about almost anything. It's a helpless feeling as you're trying to get your baby to eat and they won't. But once my milk came in, this little girl turned into a piggy! Now, it's the best decision I could have made and I am so happy to do it for her.
- Guys still get to sleep 8 hours a night uninterrupted, and will still complain the next day about not getting a good night's rest. Seriously, I've just let this one go. I get up with her, change her, feed her, and get her back to sleep while he snores away. It doesn't bother me much, but it cracks me up when I hear him telling his friends the next day how tired he is from having that new baby in the house.
- Daddy can be the biggest and best help you could possibly ask for, especially when they love baby as much as Marshall love Jilly. He's always more than willing to hold and snuggle her when I need to do something and she's being fussy. He'll take her in for a nap, and lay there cuddling her for a while. He loves us both, and treats us both so wonderfully. He's helped me every step of the way wholeheartedly. I wish his parents could be here to see him be such an amazing dad. They would be so proud to see him. I know I am. ♥
- No matter how prepared you think you are to become a mom, when the moment is finally upon you, you realize a.) you don't know jack about being a mother, b.) you're expected to take care of this person yourself, with no one to do it for you, and c.) you are terrified to your core. My nurse said 70% of new moms have a breakdown at the hospital, and the other 30% have one at home. Mine was at the hospital, when I was being released. I'll be honest, I was terrified, having a panic attack, about how I was having trouble breastfeeding and now I had to take her home. Who was going to help me? Aaaahh! After arriving home, we adjusted pretty quickly. I guess I just needed to get all those fears out before moving forward.
- Swelling doesn't end when the pregnancy does. In fact, it can get much worse. All that water and extra blood has to go somewhere. For many, it disperses itself throughout various parts of the body. For me, it all went into my ankles and feet. I had tree trunk legs for almost a week before finally getting back to normal.
- Breastfeeding means a lot of work for the mommy, especially when your child is like mine and won't take a bottle of pumped milk for anything. All she wants is the boob! But it is so rewarding. I cannot imagine doing anything else. I need it just as much as she does now. Plus, it helps everything shrink back up quicker, and I am loving that!
- The stares from strangers doesn't end when the pregnancy does, either. Just instead of staring at you for being so big they're trying to figure out how you're even able to be upright, they're staring at your little baby. It's okay, but when they try to touch, then I bite. :)
- Explosvie farts. Enough said.
- Babies don't care if the diaper is off, or if you've just cleaned off a massive poop-plosion and they're all clean and shiny again. They'll poop on you and not even think twice. Or they'll pee, sending a river of ickies all over themselves, you, and the changing station.
- The sick kids at the pediatricians office waiting room are the most horrifying things ever. Seriously, every time we go in for a doctor's appointment and a snot covered 2 year old starts running over to us pointing at the baby and trying to touch her, I want to curl up into a protective ball around her and start hissing like a cat in a turf war.
- It can be frustrating when you're trying to get something accomplished and little baby is being a fuss and only wants to be held by you. But it's equal parts frustration and amazement, since it's also the coolest feeling ever to know that she needs you, and wants you, and loves you enough to be upset when you let her go. ♥
- Hearing your baby cry when you are unable to get to her (like when you're in the shower) or unable to get her to calm down is the most heartbreaking experience.
- Best, most warm and fuzzy inducing moments of my life: when she's laying on me with her chest against mine sleeping, and she snuggles her head right up under my chin.
- Nature really does make you forget. For the first week I would get nauseous just thinking about the possibility of going through pregnancy and labor again, and now I'm already starting to forget the horrors and think about labor with amazement. I'm trying to remind myself how much it sucked, but I just can't remember being 9 months pregnant, or how bad exactly it hurt to have her coming out of me. For an experience so painful, it's a wonder to me that I'm starting to forget about it!
- Her smile.
- The number one thing I've learned, though, is that no one could possibly have prepared me for how overwhelming and wonderful my love for her would be. Sometimes, I look at her in total amazement and get all teary eyed just because she's mine. We like to stare at each other. I feel pride, happiness, tenderness, love, and just about every positive emotion on the planet. I still can't believe she's mine.
I want her to stay this little forever. I'm cherishing every day and each moment, because she's changing so quickly. Some day she'll be a little girl instead of a baby, and I want to remember exactly what this feels like. I love being a mommy! This is exactly what I was meant to do with my life. I thank God every day for this little sweetheart he's brought into my life. By the way, as I'm writing this list I keep adding more and more things at the last minute that are amazing to me. It seems I can't stop thinking about things I love about being a mommy to Jillian. I'm cutting myself off now, before this turns into a book.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Jillian's Birth Story
My daughter is sleeping peacefully away in her bouncer, so I thought I'd write a post about her birth to fill you all in on the craziness. It definately wasn't easy, and was actually slightly scary for all involved, but we're happily home and healthy now. Here's how our journey ended, in all it's traumatic glory.
I woke up in the wee hours of the morning on the 18th to go pee for the umpteenth time and noticed my panties were all wet. I didn't think much of it, just was mildly irritated, changed them and went back to sleep. When I woke up for the day, it was the same thing. I was starting to get a little worried, wondering what it was. It wasn't until a few hours later, when we were walking around the BX and I had been to the bathroom 3 times in 30 minutes to change out a little pantiliner I was wearing that I realized "Oh my gosh, I think I'm leaking water." We got home and called L&D, and were on our way.
By the time we got into L&D, it was around 3 pm on the 18th. So by my now estimation, my water had been leaking for probably 8-9 hours. Yeesh. If you haven't ever had to get checked for leaking amniotic fluid, they use a little strip of paper that turns blue if it detects amniotic fluid. But since there's a few factors that could affect the reading, they take a swab similar to getting a pap done and check it under a microscope for a ferning pattern. Well my paper test turned blue right away, but my ferning test came back inconclusive, so the nurse said no, I probably wasn't leaking water. The doctor did an ultrasound, which showed my fluid levels were slightly depleted, but it did show there was a pocket around baby that looked okay. He said I was probably just peeing on myself or had a slight yeast infections, and it probably wasn't my water, but to come back if I started soaking through more than 2 pads in an hour.
Now this is a really weird answer from a doctor, considering it's recommended your baby be born within 24 hours of a leak due to the risk of infection. I was really unhappy to be sent home, especially b/c I just knew it was my water. I started having more frequent and stronger contractions that night, but always irregular. An appointment with my midwife for my 38 week check-up was the next morning, so I planned to talk to her in detail about what happened and get some answers as to what was going on with me. I stayed up pretty much the whole night worried. What was wrong with me, if not my water?
When I filled my midwife in on what happened, she was really concerned about me. She also seemed shocked and apalled that I was turned away with what so obviously sounded like my water being broken. My blood pressure ended up being pretty high (I attribute it to stressing about my water and losing water), so she sent me up to L&D to meet with the midwife on call, who was going to personally perform the amniotic fluid check for me and monitor my blood pressure for a bit. The midwife did the check, and said she didn't even have to look at the slide b/c she could see so much of it pooling that it was obviously my water. We had no idea how long it had been broken, just knew it was over 24 hours since I noticed the leaking. It was decided I needed to be induced since my risk for infection was pretty high.
I started pitocin around 1:00 pm on the 19th. By 2:30, I was in full on active labor, and coping well with it. They upped my pitocin again an hour or so later, and suddenly my contractions were one on top of the other with no break in between. It was around 5:00 when I was checked to be 7 cm and 100% effaced, and my pitocin was turned off in hopes to give me a break between contractions. I decided then to throw my natural childbirth dreams out the window and get the epidural. I think it was 6:00 or so when the lady came in to give me my drugs, and by 6:30 I was happy as a clam and laughing about having no feeling in my legs. She did an awesome job, because I could still move my legs and feet, just not very effectively. It really helped when it came time to push, since I could feel all the urges to push.
Things started getting hairy around 10:30. First off, I started to feel like I needed to push, and was checked to be almost fully dilated, except for a small lip of cervix on the right that needed to go away. By 11:00, I had to constanly pant to get through not pushing, as it was still there. Shortly after that, I started getting numb and tingly in my fingers and face. I thought it was just because I was holding in a baby, but the nurse kept taking my temperature. I started pushing at 11:30, with them taking my temperature after each pushing contraction. It was rising apparently, and so was my heart rate. By 12:30, Jillian's head was in sight even between pushes, but I was feeling really weird. I can't describe it, but I felt completely unwell. I thought I was just tired. Shortly after that, the nurse ran to get the doctor, then came back bearing some news.
Because my water was broken for so long, I had developed an infection called chorioamnionitis. Basically, my amniotic sac was infected, and it was developing into a huge health risk for me and Jillian. My temperature was up to around 102 degrees. My heart rate had increased to be faster than my baby's, with being around 150 between pushes and 160-170 during pushes. Her heart rate was around 160 between pushes, and going down to 140-150 during pushes. Our heart rates were literally crossing each other, and they were having a hard time discerning whose was whose. At 1:00 a.m., the doctor came in and said that since Jillian was so close to crowning, she was going to use a vacuum extractor to get baby out, as it was becoming urgent that she needed to get here for both of our sakes, and I was too weak with fever to continue doing an effective job on my own. If she hadn't been so close already I would have had to have an emergency c-section. It only took about 5 minutes or so after the vacuum was in place until Jillian was born. It hurt like hell, and I tore pretty badly, but she was 100% perfectly healthy.
Jillian Rene` was born at 1:22 a.m. on January 20, 2011. She weighed 7 lb. 14 oz., and was 20 inches long. Despite my health and complicaions, Jillian scored a 7 on her 1 minute Apgar and a 9 at 5 minutes. She was 100% perfectly healthy. She did, however, have to go to the NICU for 8 hours for monitoring just to be safe that the infection wouldn't present itself in her after birth. We were both given antibiotics periodically for 48 hours following delivery. I got to spend a half hour with her before they took her away, then got to visit her twice briefly before they released her to me on the mommy and baby ward. She got to stay with me the whole time, except for one little mishap. She somehow ripped the IV out of her arm, and had to go back to the NICU to get it replaced. It took them 3 hours to find a good vein, and my poor baby returned to me with an arm full of poke marks. It completely broke my heart.
My recovery has been good. My fever went away pretty quickly after her birth, and my heart rate and blood pressure returned to normal, too. My doctor said I was an awesome pusher, and if I wasn't sick she would have been out sooner. It's scary to think about, really, that if I lived 100 years ago I would have probably been one of the women who died during childbirth. I am so thankful for medical intervention and advancements to be able to determine how sick and was and do what needed to be done. It wasn't as scary at the time while all of it was happening, since I was just worried about Jill, but now, *shudder*.
And the irony that shows this story comes full circle in a way: the doctor who discharged me was the same doctor who sent me home the night before. The look on his face when he saw me and was looking over my chart was priceless. It changed from happy doctor to very uncomfortable really quickly.
Marshall is the best dad in the world. I knew he would be a great one, but watching him be so beyond-great-more-like-fantastic-amazing-wonderful with her has been one of the best parts of this experience. And she really loves her Daddy, too. I love the way they look at each other. It makes me teary-eyed just thinking about it.
A funny highlight from labor and pushing: After the vacuum was on and I was pushing, things went from 0-60 really quick. At one point, probably while her head was coming out, the labor scene looked like the following scenario. There were a good 8 people at least in the room crowded around, yelling at me to "Push harder! Harder! You can push harder than that! Lisa Push Harder!!!" all at the same time. Meanwhile, I"m yelling "It hurts! It hurts! It really hurts! Ow, it burns! Waaaah!" between pushes and grunting like an animal during. Suddenly, Marshall, who had stayed relatively quite and composed during this whole process, starts hysterically crying and shouting out words that sound like a frantic mixture of "Push! Oh my God! Woah!" and other inaudible, excited noises. It was at that point that I knew something was happening, and right after that I was suddenly looking at my daughter.
I love her so much! She's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. I don't even care if I'm biased, I'm calling it. Jillian is the most beautiful, perfect baby girl to ever have been born. And she is all ours. ♥
I woke up in the wee hours of the morning on the 18th to go pee for the umpteenth time and noticed my panties were all wet. I didn't think much of it, just was mildly irritated, changed them and went back to sleep. When I woke up for the day, it was the same thing. I was starting to get a little worried, wondering what it was. It wasn't until a few hours later, when we were walking around the BX and I had been to the bathroom 3 times in 30 minutes to change out a little pantiliner I was wearing that I realized "Oh my gosh, I think I'm leaking water." We got home and called L&D, and were on our way.
By the time we got into L&D, it was around 3 pm on the 18th. So by my now estimation, my water had been leaking for probably 8-9 hours. Yeesh. If you haven't ever had to get checked for leaking amniotic fluid, they use a little strip of paper that turns blue if it detects amniotic fluid. But since there's a few factors that could affect the reading, they take a swab similar to getting a pap done and check it under a microscope for a ferning pattern. Well my paper test turned blue right away, but my ferning test came back inconclusive, so the nurse said no, I probably wasn't leaking water. The doctor did an ultrasound, which showed my fluid levels were slightly depleted, but it did show there was a pocket around baby that looked okay. He said I was probably just peeing on myself or had a slight yeast infections, and it probably wasn't my water, but to come back if I started soaking through more than 2 pads in an hour.
Now this is a really weird answer from a doctor, considering it's recommended your baby be born within 24 hours of a leak due to the risk of infection. I was really unhappy to be sent home, especially b/c I just knew it was my water. I started having more frequent and stronger contractions that night, but always irregular. An appointment with my midwife for my 38 week check-up was the next morning, so I planned to talk to her in detail about what happened and get some answers as to what was going on with me. I stayed up pretty much the whole night worried. What was wrong with me, if not my water?
When I filled my midwife in on what happened, she was really concerned about me. She also seemed shocked and apalled that I was turned away with what so obviously sounded like my water being broken. My blood pressure ended up being pretty high (I attribute it to stressing about my water and losing water), so she sent me up to L&D to meet with the midwife on call, who was going to personally perform the amniotic fluid check for me and monitor my blood pressure for a bit. The midwife did the check, and said she didn't even have to look at the slide b/c she could see so much of it pooling that it was obviously my water. We had no idea how long it had been broken, just knew it was over 24 hours since I noticed the leaking. It was decided I needed to be induced since my risk for infection was pretty high.
I started pitocin around 1:00 pm on the 19th. By 2:30, I was in full on active labor, and coping well with it. They upped my pitocin again an hour or so later, and suddenly my contractions were one on top of the other with no break in between. It was around 5:00 when I was checked to be 7 cm and 100% effaced, and my pitocin was turned off in hopes to give me a break between contractions. I decided then to throw my natural childbirth dreams out the window and get the epidural. I think it was 6:00 or so when the lady came in to give me my drugs, and by 6:30 I was happy as a clam and laughing about having no feeling in my legs. She did an awesome job, because I could still move my legs and feet, just not very effectively. It really helped when it came time to push, since I could feel all the urges to push.
Things started getting hairy around 10:30. First off, I started to feel like I needed to push, and was checked to be almost fully dilated, except for a small lip of cervix on the right that needed to go away. By 11:00, I had to constanly pant to get through not pushing, as it was still there. Shortly after that, I started getting numb and tingly in my fingers and face. I thought it was just because I was holding in a baby, but the nurse kept taking my temperature. I started pushing at 11:30, with them taking my temperature after each pushing contraction. It was rising apparently, and so was my heart rate. By 12:30, Jillian's head was in sight even between pushes, but I was feeling really weird. I can't describe it, but I felt completely unwell. I thought I was just tired. Shortly after that, the nurse ran to get the doctor, then came back bearing some news.
Because my water was broken for so long, I had developed an infection called chorioamnionitis. Basically, my amniotic sac was infected, and it was developing into a huge health risk for me and Jillian. My temperature was up to around 102 degrees. My heart rate had increased to be faster than my baby's, with being around 150 between pushes and 160-170 during pushes. Her heart rate was around 160 between pushes, and going down to 140-150 during pushes. Our heart rates were literally crossing each other, and they were having a hard time discerning whose was whose. At 1:00 a.m., the doctor came in and said that since Jillian was so close to crowning, she was going to use a vacuum extractor to get baby out, as it was becoming urgent that she needed to get here for both of our sakes, and I was too weak with fever to continue doing an effective job on my own. If she hadn't been so close already I would have had to have an emergency c-section. It only took about 5 minutes or so after the vacuum was in place until Jillian was born. It hurt like hell, and I tore pretty badly, but she was 100% perfectly healthy.
Jillian Rene` was born at 1:22 a.m. on January 20, 2011. She weighed 7 lb. 14 oz., and was 20 inches long. Despite my health and complicaions, Jillian scored a 7 on her 1 minute Apgar and a 9 at 5 minutes. She was 100% perfectly healthy. She did, however, have to go to the NICU for 8 hours for monitoring just to be safe that the infection wouldn't present itself in her after birth. We were both given antibiotics periodically for 48 hours following delivery. I got to spend a half hour with her before they took her away, then got to visit her twice briefly before they released her to me on the mommy and baby ward. She got to stay with me the whole time, except for one little mishap. She somehow ripped the IV out of her arm, and had to go back to the NICU to get it replaced. It took them 3 hours to find a good vein, and my poor baby returned to me with an arm full of poke marks. It completely broke my heart.
My recovery has been good. My fever went away pretty quickly after her birth, and my heart rate and blood pressure returned to normal, too. My doctor said I was an awesome pusher, and if I wasn't sick she would have been out sooner. It's scary to think about, really, that if I lived 100 years ago I would have probably been one of the women who died during childbirth. I am so thankful for medical intervention and advancements to be able to determine how sick and was and do what needed to be done. It wasn't as scary at the time while all of it was happening, since I was just worried about Jill, but now, *shudder*.
And the irony that shows this story comes full circle in a way: the doctor who discharged me was the same doctor who sent me home the night before. The look on his face when he saw me and was looking over my chart was priceless. It changed from happy doctor to very uncomfortable really quickly.
Marshall is the best dad in the world. I knew he would be a great one, but watching him be so beyond-great-more-like-fantastic-amazing-wonderful with her has been one of the best parts of this experience. And she really loves her Daddy, too. I love the way they look at each other. It makes me teary-eyed just thinking about it.
A funny highlight from labor and pushing: After the vacuum was on and I was pushing, things went from 0-60 really quick. At one point, probably while her head was coming out, the labor scene looked like the following scenario. There were a good 8 people at least in the room crowded around, yelling at me to "Push harder! Harder! You can push harder than that! Lisa Push Harder!!!" all at the same time. Meanwhile, I"m yelling "It hurts! It hurts! It really hurts! Ow, it burns! Waaaah!" between pushes and grunting like an animal during. Suddenly, Marshall, who had stayed relatively quite and composed during this whole process, starts hysterically crying and shouting out words that sound like a frantic mixture of "Push! Oh my God! Woah!" and other inaudible, excited noises. It was at that point that I knew something was happening, and right after that I was suddenly looking at my daughter.
I love her so much! She's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. I don't even care if I'm biased, I'm calling it. Jillian is the most beautiful, perfect baby girl to ever have been born. And she is all ours. ♥
Monday, January 17, 2011
A letter to Jillian
Dear baby Jillian,
Hi, little girl! I love you. You are such a big girl now in my belly. I'm not sure how you can still be comfortable in there. I can feel you try to stretch out sometimes, and it doesn't seem to be very successful for you! Poor little girl! Your long baby legs just have to stay all curled up, don't they?
We've had an interesting week and a half, haven't we? We started going into labor, then had it stop on us. We found out we're almost halfway dilated, so your little baby head can almost fit through. We found out that Mommy's almost completely effaced, and how far down you've traveled. You seem pretty anxious to get out, considering your head is in my birth canal. Are you comfortable with your head being smooshed between my pelvis? Is it kind of like a vice grip, holding you in place, or can you move your head around still? I get worried about you, Jilly, wondering if you're uncomfortable or in any kind of pain. Most babies don't move down that far until their mommies are getting ready to push them out, but you couldn't wait. You're a rebel. I like that about you.
There doesn't seem to be much left holding you in there. This is very uncomfortable for me, baby J, since it puts a lot (and I mean a LOT!) of pressure on my whole crotch. I know you don't know what any of those body parts are yet, since you're still on the inside and aren't familiar with the outside world, but someday I'll make sure you know about the bruising and swelling you've caused. Like when you grow up, get married, and go to have a baby of your own. You'll ask me all kinds of questions about when I was pregnant with you, just like I asked your Grandma Christie, and I'll have all kinds of answers.
I love you, Jilly. I've tried to make sure you know how much I really, really love you. I welcome you into my life, and out into the world. So does your Daddy. He loves you so much. He's always talking to you and asking you to come out and telling you he loves you, and I know you hear him because every time he does you start to squiggle around in my belly. He reads you books. He welcomes you into his life, our life, and out into the world, too.
Daddy has to go away in about two weeks for a little while. He won't be gone long, but he has very important work to do. He really wants to be here for you, to see you as you first enter this world and take your first breath. I need him here, too. He's my support and my rock, and he keeps me from feeling overwhelmed. But we're both starting to get really worried, baby girl. We're worried you won't come out before he has to leave. And if that's the case, then the doctor's will make you come out while he's gone, and he won't be here to welcome you. That would break his heart, and mine. And it wouldn't be fair to you either, Jillybean, because you'd get to miss out on spending your first days warm and secure with both Mommy and Daddy.
Did we do something to offend you, Jillian? Did we perhaps not make you feel welcomed and happy like we should? We've tried to make a really good home for you. We've done everything we can to make sure that you have everything you need and more. We love you, and we want you to be happy. Are you scared? Because if you are, I promise you, it's okay. I will protect you. I will hold you, and you will have me to keep you safe. Your Daddy, too.
We want you to come out. We want to meet you. We're both confused as to why you seem to be teasing us, with contractions that start and stop, and lots of progress. I love you. Daddy loves you. We won't let anything happen to you.
Your Daddy would like to spend some time with you before he needs to leave for a little while. Only you can make this happen. You have the ability to come out and meet us. We're waiting for you, and we're trying to be as patient as possible. But we're excited and anxious to have you in our arms. You changed our lives as soon as you entered them. You are our everything. So if you're frightened, or if you have any doubts about coming into this big, colorful world, know that it's okay. We love you and will hold you and protect you. We'll keep you safe. I promise you.
Please come out soon. We want to make you love us, too.
Love,
Your Mommy and Daddy
P.S. I think Kitty might want to meet you, too. He's been following us around lately and looking at me with very concerned eyes. And he's been trying to climb up and lay across you, which is sort of odd considering he is not a lap cat. I think he wants to meet his new sister!
Hi, little girl! I love you. You are such a big girl now in my belly. I'm not sure how you can still be comfortable in there. I can feel you try to stretch out sometimes, and it doesn't seem to be very successful for you! Poor little girl! Your long baby legs just have to stay all curled up, don't they?
We've had an interesting week and a half, haven't we? We started going into labor, then had it stop on us. We found out we're almost halfway dilated, so your little baby head can almost fit through. We found out that Mommy's almost completely effaced, and how far down you've traveled. You seem pretty anxious to get out, considering your head is in my birth canal. Are you comfortable with your head being smooshed between my pelvis? Is it kind of like a vice grip, holding you in place, or can you move your head around still? I get worried about you, Jilly, wondering if you're uncomfortable or in any kind of pain. Most babies don't move down that far until their mommies are getting ready to push them out, but you couldn't wait. You're a rebel. I like that about you.
There doesn't seem to be much left holding you in there. This is very uncomfortable for me, baby J, since it puts a lot (and I mean a LOT!) of pressure on my whole crotch. I know you don't know what any of those body parts are yet, since you're still on the inside and aren't familiar with the outside world, but someday I'll make sure you know about the bruising and swelling you've caused. Like when you grow up, get married, and go to have a baby of your own. You'll ask me all kinds of questions about when I was pregnant with you, just like I asked your Grandma Christie, and I'll have all kinds of answers.
I love you, Jilly. I've tried to make sure you know how much I really, really love you. I welcome you into my life, and out into the world. So does your Daddy. He loves you so much. He's always talking to you and asking you to come out and telling you he loves you, and I know you hear him because every time he does you start to squiggle around in my belly. He reads you books. He welcomes you into his life, our life, and out into the world, too.
Daddy has to go away in about two weeks for a little while. He won't be gone long, but he has very important work to do. He really wants to be here for you, to see you as you first enter this world and take your first breath. I need him here, too. He's my support and my rock, and he keeps me from feeling overwhelmed. But we're both starting to get really worried, baby girl. We're worried you won't come out before he has to leave. And if that's the case, then the doctor's will make you come out while he's gone, and he won't be here to welcome you. That would break his heart, and mine. And it wouldn't be fair to you either, Jillybean, because you'd get to miss out on spending your first days warm and secure with both Mommy and Daddy.
Did we do something to offend you, Jillian? Did we perhaps not make you feel welcomed and happy like we should? We've tried to make a really good home for you. We've done everything we can to make sure that you have everything you need and more. We love you, and we want you to be happy. Are you scared? Because if you are, I promise you, it's okay. I will protect you. I will hold you, and you will have me to keep you safe. Your Daddy, too.
We want you to come out. We want to meet you. We're both confused as to why you seem to be teasing us, with contractions that start and stop, and lots of progress. I love you. Daddy loves you. We won't let anything happen to you.
Your Daddy would like to spend some time with you before he needs to leave for a little while. Only you can make this happen. You have the ability to come out and meet us. We're waiting for you, and we're trying to be as patient as possible. But we're excited and anxious to have you in our arms. You changed our lives as soon as you entered them. You are our everything. So if you're frightened, or if you have any doubts about coming into this big, colorful world, know that it's okay. We love you and will hold you and protect you. We'll keep you safe. I promise you.
Please come out soon. We want to make you love us, too.
Love,
Your Mommy and Daddy
P.S. I think Kitty might want to meet you, too. He's been following us around lately and looking at me with very concerned eyes. And he's been trying to climb up and lay across you, which is sort of odd considering he is not a lap cat. I think he wants to meet his new sister!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Progress is progress
I'm 4 cm dilated, 80% effaced, with baby down at +1 station. I've been having contractions for 5 days now, so "Progress is progress" is becoming a slight mantra of mine as I try to keep myself from becoming frustrated. It seems each time things start to really get going they taper off for a little while. I keep waiting for that moment of intense pain to come, instead of this throbbing pain that I've been feeling, to signify that it is finally time to go to the hospital again, but just as it reaches that point things slow down again.
It really should be any day now. Key word should. But for some reason my body seems to have decided to draw out this process as long as possible. Between appointments, I feel slightly frustrated at the fact that I don't know if I'm doing anything or not. I feel worried that I am in active labor, and that these cramping and backache pains I've been having are actually how I'm going to experience labor, and I'm brushing off these signs as nothing because they aren't what I expect. Not that it really matters where I'm laboring, just as long as I get to the hospital before she's crowning.
It's baffling to me that I'm walking around almost halfway dilated, almost completely effaced, and with my daughter's head down past my pelvis. It's also weird to me that I can't put my legs together because I can feel her head inside of me. And creepy.
Still, I repeat my new mantra. I try to remind myself that things are progressing, and even though this isn't typical, it's still progress. I know the possibility that I could be walking around like this for a while. I get that. It doesn't make me feel better, but I understand. And I'm preparing myself for this possibility. I'm trying to learn how to continue to do things while in pain. Walking has become quite painful, especially today, as I think the pressure of her head being so low is really taking it's toll on my pelvic area. Standing is pretty painful, too, and I find myself constantly shuffling my weight back and forth to find a comfortable position for me and poor Jilly, who I can't imagine is very comfortable either with her head shoved between my pelvic bones. Yes, I know I'm not 40 weeks, yes I know I'm not overdue, so yes, I know many people are going to feel I have no right to complain. And maybe I don't. Maybe I'm breaking an unwritten rule of pregnancy to feel this way before I get to 40 weeks. At this point, I don't care about the unwritten rules or if I'm offending anyone. I look forward to when this is over. It's going to be awesome to have my little girl in my arms. And it's going to be awesome to have a day where I'm not contracting or in pain.
Soon. So very soon. And as long as things keep progressing and pick up, I should have her before Marshall has to go to his medical board hearing. He's just as anxious as I am. And hopefully soon when he asks if I'm okay instead of getting "Yeah, just having contractions" he'll get "Yeah, but we need to go to the hospital." Very soon.
It really should be any day now. Key word should. But for some reason my body seems to have decided to draw out this process as long as possible. Between appointments, I feel slightly frustrated at the fact that I don't know if I'm doing anything or not. I feel worried that I am in active labor, and that these cramping and backache pains I've been having are actually how I'm going to experience labor, and I'm brushing off these signs as nothing because they aren't what I expect. Not that it really matters where I'm laboring, just as long as I get to the hospital before she's crowning.
It's baffling to me that I'm walking around almost halfway dilated, almost completely effaced, and with my daughter's head down past my pelvis. It's also weird to me that I can't put my legs together because I can feel her head inside of me. And creepy.
Still, I repeat my new mantra. I try to remind myself that things are progressing, and even though this isn't typical, it's still progress. I know the possibility that I could be walking around like this for a while. I get that. It doesn't make me feel better, but I understand. And I'm preparing myself for this possibility. I'm trying to learn how to continue to do things while in pain. Walking has become quite painful, especially today, as I think the pressure of her head being so low is really taking it's toll on my pelvic area. Standing is pretty painful, too, and I find myself constantly shuffling my weight back and forth to find a comfortable position for me and poor Jilly, who I can't imagine is very comfortable either with her head shoved between my pelvic bones. Yes, I know I'm not 40 weeks, yes I know I'm not overdue, so yes, I know many people are going to feel I have no right to complain. And maybe I don't. Maybe I'm breaking an unwritten rule of pregnancy to feel this way before I get to 40 weeks. At this point, I don't care about the unwritten rules or if I'm offending anyone. I look forward to when this is over. It's going to be awesome to have my little girl in my arms. And it's going to be awesome to have a day where I'm not contracting or in pain.
Soon. So very soon. And as long as things keep progressing and pick up, I should have her before Marshall has to go to his medical board hearing. He's just as anxious as I am. And hopefully soon when he asks if I'm okay instead of getting "Yeah, just having contractions" he'll get "Yeah, but we need to go to the hospital." Very soon.
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