The edible comparison for baby is now a honeydew. Depending on where you look, he could be 5 pounds and 18 inches long, or 6 pounds and 20 inches long already.
Doctor says his head is quite low -- she was poking it. I'm one centimeter dilated and 50 percent effaced.
Baby's liver, kidneys, circulation, and immune system should be in working order. He's very close to being able to breathe on his own (that should be a week from now, when I'm considered full term).
I kept thinking that September would be a big month where everything in my life changed, but that turned out to be August. Andy had to switch to first shift, and I'm working some insane combination of first and second shift plus my second job. Fletcher is in daycare three days a week, and when baby joins him there, we'll be spending so much money on it that I won't know how to pay our mortgage.
I have only two emotional states. Complete lethargy where I'm only semi-conscious, and panicked mania where I'm convinced that I have to work - have to clean - have to accomplish every goal I've ever set for myself because when baby comes it's all over. The fear of losing our house adds nicely into that.
How much can one brain think about at once? A lot. Every minute is focused on baby, in addition to everything else in my life. The mental exhaustion is really something when combined with the worst insomnia I've ever had.
I won't even get into the physical exhaustion and pain. Suffice it to say that if Andy "jokes" any more about how he knows all about it (and has it worse) because he's heavier than I am, I'm going to punch him in the face.
I run through my list of blessings often. I haven't forgotten how lucky I am, how good things are, how sad I will be when my last pregnancy is over forever.
But I need permission to sit and wallow in how hard this all is. I have to give myself that.
Showing posts with label update. Show all posts
Showing posts with label update. Show all posts
Friday, August 30, 2013
Monday, August 29, 2011
lab work
Fletcher grows. He's taller than about 75 percent of kids his age, but still underweight in the ninth percentile. His face continues to age and his second molar is poking through the gums already.
The only other thing I learned at the doctor appointment was that when you ask them, "How do you draw blood from a toddler?" and they answer, "The same way as adults," they are NOT joking, but they totally should be.
"He's so strong!" both nurses had the nerve to say as needles were dug mercilessly into BOTH of his tiny arms. Despite the fact that these women were ADULTS and trained nurses, Fletch continued to move his arm under their supposed grasp and wail as I've never ever heard him wail before, except maybe the last time we put him in the hands of these nurses (a year ago) when they failed to take blood from his feet.
And the nurses took absolutely no blame for this recent abysmal failure, instead coming up with a few excuses about "fluids" and Fletcher's upset state, and completely ignoring the fact that he entered that room in absolutely perfect condition for lab work.
Come back?
Yeah no.
A letter arrived in the mail the next day with an ultimatum that he needs to have his blood drawn before the end of September.
Here's my ultimatum:
Get a damn nurse who can hold down an underweight 15-month-old on the first try because no way in hell am I putting him through that again.
Even now, it makes my eyes fill, because I know when the next attempt comes, I'm going to have to do it. I can't trust them. I'm going to have to bruise his soft arms just so he can get out of that room faster. I have to be a monster because once again it seems like you can't trust the hard stuff to anyone but yourself.
The only other thing I learned at the doctor appointment was that when you ask them, "How do you draw blood from a toddler?" and they answer, "The same way as adults," they are NOT joking, but they totally should be.
"He's so strong!" both nurses had the nerve to say as needles were dug mercilessly into BOTH of his tiny arms. Despite the fact that these women were ADULTS and trained nurses, Fletch continued to move his arm under their supposed grasp and wail as I've never ever heard him wail before, except maybe the last time we put him in the hands of these nurses (a year ago) when they failed to take blood from his feet.
And the nurses took absolutely no blame for this recent abysmal failure, instead coming up with a few excuses about "fluids" and Fletcher's upset state, and completely ignoring the fact that he entered that room in absolutely perfect condition for lab work.
Come back?
Yeah no.
A letter arrived in the mail the next day with an ultimatum that he needs to have his blood drawn before the end of September.
Here's my ultimatum:
Get a damn nurse who can hold down an underweight 15-month-old on the first try because no way in hell am I putting him through that again.
Even now, it makes my eyes fill, because I know when the next attempt comes, I'm going to have to do it. I can't trust them. I'm going to have to bruise his soft arms just so he can get out of that room faster. I have to be a monster because once again it seems like you can't trust the hard stuff to anyone but yourself.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
toddler
I haven't posted in a while. It's mostly because I'm busy and sick. It certainly is NOT because the baby hasn't changed.
Excuse me, toddler.
He's gone with lightning speed from first steps to walking. Sometimes, crawling is faster, but you can see on his face that he loves walking and he knows what he's doing. I think his record now is something like 45 consecutive steps. His confidence is awe-inspiring.
He remains uninterested in sippy cups, but he's willing to drink water and juice now.
He's more vocal. I'm still not 100% convinced that he associates "mama" with me and "dada" with his father, but he says them plenty, as well as baba, nana, and various other growls, whines, and babbles. Blowing raspberries is still a favorite.
Yogurt had been the only item on his will-not-eat list, until the recent mess he made with his toddler dinner of chicken, noodles, and peas. None of it would stay in his mouth. Nor would he pull the food out and put it on the tray. No, he let it all fall out of his mouth into his lap and onto the floor.
He plays differently with toys. All those little buttons and pulls and levers that meant nothing to him before are becoming interesting as he discovers cause and effect.
His laughter cures all.
As with all things related to him, it's bittersweet watching his rapid progress into toddler-hood. You'll have to forgive me for still calling him my baby for the next, oh, fifty years.
Excuse me, toddler.
He's gone with lightning speed from first steps to walking. Sometimes, crawling is faster, but you can see on his face that he loves walking and he knows what he's doing. I think his record now is something like 45 consecutive steps. His confidence is awe-inspiring.
He remains uninterested in sippy cups, but he's willing to drink water and juice now.
He's more vocal. I'm still not 100% convinced that he associates "mama" with me and "dada" with his father, but he says them plenty, as well as baba, nana, and various other growls, whines, and babbles. Blowing raspberries is still a favorite.
Yogurt had been the only item on his will-not-eat list, until the recent mess he made with his toddler dinner of chicken, noodles, and peas. None of it would stay in his mouth. Nor would he pull the food out and put it on the tray. No, he let it all fall out of his mouth into his lap and onto the floor.
He plays differently with toys. All those little buttons and pulls and levers that meant nothing to him before are becoming interesting as he discovers cause and effect.
His laughter cures all.
As with all things related to him, it's bittersweet watching his rapid progress into toddler-hood. You'll have to forgive me for still calling him my baby for the next, oh, fifty years.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
update
Writing blog posts is getting frackin' hard. Not the "writing" part, but the "using a computer without the baby wanting to grab at the keys and eat the screen and chew the cord" part.
So what's happened lately?
Mostly, I've been worrying a lot. When I first became a parent, the things to worry about were all obvious and expected, and I'd mentally prepared myself to handle them. But now, the things I worry about don't have solutions.
I don't know what I'm going to do when he outgrows his car seat. Sure, we have a different car seat ready for him, but it's not like his original. It doesn't slide into multiple bases in multiple cars. It's a big item that's meant to stay strapped into one car. Are we supposed to buy another one for our other car? And what about the grandparents' cars? And what about the fact that my car is the size of a toy and the idea of fitting a larger car seat in it (let alone taking it in and out repeatedly) is like a bad joke? We can't afford to trade my car in. My husband's car is older and will be the one that gets traded when the time comes.
Then there's nursing. I've obsessed over breastfeeding woes before, and it's getting worse. I used to provide at least eight ounces while at work. About four months in, that started getting difficult. Suddenly I was only able to provide six ounces while away from home. Now I'm LUCKY if I get a total of four ounces, because there is just no let down reflex. Even with this problem, though, I never had to worry about feeding him when I was home -- it was only the pump that my body stopped understanding.
But last night I couldn't get a let down with Fletcher, so now my worries are compounded. Eventually his tiredness won out over his hunger and he fell asleep. Then I went to bed with my failure, wondering what was happening to me, what I was supposed to do. I know he isn't starving, but... my baby went to bed hungry? What kind of mother am I? I'm so angry with my body, as it fails me time and again.
I'm not supposed to have a bad back at my age, yet it feels like someone has grabbed hold of each muscle and twisted. I've lost mobility in my neck, shoulders, arms. I've forced myself to learn how to accept the constant pain, even as new joint pain joins the party.
Is being able to feed my baby when he's hungry really too much to ask? I've done everything right. Why can't it do what it's supposed to do? For the first time, I really feel trapped by my body, because now it isn't just about me.
You know it's a sad state of affairs when you dream of winning the lottery so you can do things like see a health care professional and get a car with four doors.
So what's happened lately?
- Time inexplicably passed again. He's almost 10 months old.
- He got his seventh tooth.
- He's doing quite well eating small bits of "real" food.
- I went to take a quick potty break, and when I got back he had climbed eight stairs and scared me to death. More than once, he's climbed the entire flight while supervised. A cardboard obstacle was built to stop or slow him. Or trip me.
- He made friends with an almost-one-year-old at a baby shower on Saturday. There was a bit of cute monkey-see-monkey-do.
- On Sunday, I threw a dirty diaper in frustration. I may or may not have been aiming at my husband's head. He may or may not have forgiven me. There wasn't that much poop in it.
- Husband complained about baby food stuck in the carpet again, as if it is preventable. Wet Cheerios stick to everything and dry like glue. Just look at my shirt.
Mostly, I've been worrying a lot. When I first became a parent, the things to worry about were all obvious and expected, and I'd mentally prepared myself to handle them. But now, the things I worry about don't have solutions.
I don't know what I'm going to do when he outgrows his car seat. Sure, we have a different car seat ready for him, but it's not like his original. It doesn't slide into multiple bases in multiple cars. It's a big item that's meant to stay strapped into one car. Are we supposed to buy another one for our other car? And what about the grandparents' cars? And what about the fact that my car is the size of a toy and the idea of fitting a larger car seat in it (let alone taking it in and out repeatedly) is like a bad joke? We can't afford to trade my car in. My husband's car is older and will be the one that gets traded when the time comes.
Then there's nursing. I've obsessed over breastfeeding woes before, and it's getting worse. I used to provide at least eight ounces while at work. About four months in, that started getting difficult. Suddenly I was only able to provide six ounces while away from home. Now I'm LUCKY if I get a total of four ounces, because there is just no let down reflex. Even with this problem, though, I never had to worry about feeding him when I was home -- it was only the pump that my body stopped understanding.
But last night I couldn't get a let down with Fletcher, so now my worries are compounded. Eventually his tiredness won out over his hunger and he fell asleep. Then I went to bed with my failure, wondering what was happening to me, what I was supposed to do. I know he isn't starving, but... my baby went to bed hungry? What kind of mother am I? I'm so angry with my body, as it fails me time and again.
I'm not supposed to have a bad back at my age, yet it feels like someone has grabbed hold of each muscle and twisted. I've lost mobility in my neck, shoulders, arms. I've forced myself to learn how to accept the constant pain, even as new joint pain joins the party.
Is being able to feed my baby when he's hungry really too much to ask? I've done everything right. Why can't it do what it's supposed to do? For the first time, I really feel trapped by my body, because now it isn't just about me.
You know it's a sad state of affairs when you dream of winning the lottery so you can do things like see a health care professional and get a car with four doors.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
sleep
When going through our most recent photos, I couldn't help noticing a theme.
We're all really tired, apparently.
I busted out some of the six month toys he received in the baby showers or shortly after he was born. He's completely surrounded in colorful plastic. He's adding more playfulness to his all-I-want-is-for-it-to-fit-in-my-mouth phase, so things are going to keep getting more fun.
He's reached every milestone there seems to be for a five-month-old. I read that six-month-old milestones include sleeping less -- taking a few naps in a day, totaling three or four hours of sleep.
Our morning routine has been off this week and I can't help panicking that it isn't going to work anymore. If he isn't going to sleep in the morning when I leave for work, then he's going to have to scream to get the attention he wants, as he did today. And Andy is not going to sleep.
It isn't Fletcher's fault or anyone else's that we need to work. I have to remind myself of that in the morning when I turn away from his smiling, eager face and leave him.
Recent videos:
We're all really tired, apparently.
I busted out some of the six month toys he received in the baby showers or shortly after he was born. He's completely surrounded in colorful plastic. He's adding more playfulness to his all-I-want-is-for-it-to-fit-in-my-mouth phase, so things are going to keep getting more fun.
He's reached every milestone there seems to be for a five-month-old. I read that six-month-old milestones include sleeping less -- taking a few naps in a day, totaling three or four hours of sleep.
Our morning routine has been off this week and I can't help panicking that it isn't going to work anymore. If he isn't going to sleep in the morning when I leave for work, then he's going to have to scream to get the attention he wants, as he did today. And Andy is not going to sleep.
It isn't Fletcher's fault or anyone else's that we need to work. I have to remind myself of that in the morning when I turn away from his smiling, eager face and leave him.
Recent videos:
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