This was the night Evan was born. We didn't get out of the room of suffering until about 11:30 to be transferred to the mother-infant wing. The MI wing was completely full. On Tuesday and Wednesday night, 23 babies were born. They had to ship us off to the overflow rooms that haven't been redone yet. These rooms didn't have a shower (but they did have a toilet and sink), but the wing was QUIET!
By 12:30, we were settled in. We had the nurses take Evan back to the nursery. Everyone told us that, while it would be nice to have him in the room, it's also nice to get a little bit of sleep. We decided to take the advice of those who have been there and done that.
Thursday
Every muscle in my body hurt. You don't realize the muscles you need to simply sit up and stand up until they don't work, or are stitched up. It seemed as soon as I would fall asleep, a nurse would come in to mash on my stomach (NOT FUN), or try to get Evan to nurse. He wasn't interested at all in eating. I felt like I had been hit by a truck.
Like clockwork, the boob nazis came in with Evan every 3 hours to try and get him to nurse. He didn't until 4 p.m. that afternoon. I don't really remember much of the day. Grandparents and family all showed up, as well as a few friends.
Brian was not sleeping at all on the ridiculous cot thing that they pulled down from the wall (again we were in the wing that hadn't been remodeled yet, so it was absolutely 1960-70s). At about 4:30, he gave up when the boob nazis made another appearance and decided to go home.
That morning the pediatrician came in and stated the obvious. "You have a very big boy!" He also said, "He has a HUGE head! The average head is 12-13 centimeters around. His is 15."
Friday
This was the day we were able to go home, but not until the early evening. They have to do metabolic tests 24 hours after his first feeding to see if he has jaundice and other metabolic disorders. We met his pediatrician who circumcised him and informed us that Evan had a pretty accurate aim for a new born and nailed him in the operating room.
Since Evan's test wasn't until about 4 p.m., we passed the time with trying to nurse - with mixed results. We were working with him during the afternoon and I sat him up to burb when I noticed something coming out of his diaper...
Yup. It was a big ol' nasty poop. He pooped on me, on the nurse and all over the bassinet that she had quickly moved him over too. She almost gagged. So did I. She told us later that was probably the nastiest she had ever had to clean up.
So let's recap the past 24-48 hours. We had the largest of 23 babies born on Tuesday or Wednesday night at St. Lukes. He has an above average head size (takes after his grandma), takes explosive poops and peed on the pediatrician. Maybe there is a lot more of my family in him than I originally thought.
My parents volunteered to bring over dinner for our first evening home. The whole family was there to greet us. It was great and also overwhelming. Then our toilet wouldn't flush. I was about to succumb to the frayed nerves of a baby that didn't want to eat, exhaustion, physical pain and chaos in our house.
I did get to hold my brand new nephew for the first time! Everyone was passing babies around so Brian and I could eat. When a calm finally fell over the crowd, we enjoyed a few moments of tranquility before everyone decided to pack up and leave so we could rest.
We introduced Truman to Evan after everyone left. The poor dog was so stressed out. He had been staying at my sister, Noreen's, house while we were in the hospital. Anytime he is away from home he stresses out, doesn't eat and gets really bad diarrhea. My brother-in-law brought him back on Friday afternoon and he was put in the laundry room (where he sleeps at night) when my whole family came in to keep him from going crazy with the commotion.
Poor dog thought he was in trouble. When I got home, I went back to see him and give him some reassurance and let him out. Friday night, he was pretty high-strung, but quickly calmed down. By Saturday morning, he was Evan's personal body guard, keeping an eye on anyone who came near him, held him or looked at him. He's not aggressive, just letting people know that Evan is HIS little boy, too. He desperately wants to give Evan kisses and has been successful in landing a few to the back of his head and feet. No big deal, we just don't want him slobbering up his face right now.
My sister-in-law volunteered to stay so she could tend to Evan if he got fussy, but wasn't ready to eat to let Brian and I catch up on some much needed sleep. It didn't happen, but we did figure out that a quality swing is worth its weight in gold. If only we had thought to use it sooner!
The boob nazis drilled it into my head that he absolutely, positively had to eat every three hours. No exceptions. And the three hours starts at the beginning of one feeding to the beginning of the next. So, if you have to work for an hour to get a full feeding in, then burb him and change him, you only get a 90-minute nap before the next time around.
Phantom Baby
Sometime on Friday night, I kept hearing the sound of a baby screaming. Since Steph had the monitor with her, I knew she would respond to him if he was screaming. But where was this sound coming from? Turns out it is all in my head. It is so faint a baby cry that I can't tell if it is just in my head or real. I just have to keep convincing myself that it isn't real. Then, I test the monitor and peak in on Evan just to be sure.
Saturday
I never developed any preferences for feeding during my pregnancy. My goals were to have a healthy baby (check) and keep him that way. I know breast milk is the best source of nutrition for him right now. But I never had grand dreams of him nursing and all of that. That's just not me.
Evan's chin is a little recessed right now and he has huge cheeks. His weight made him very hard to hold in the correct position no matter how many support pillows, boppies, whatever were used to prop up my arm. We couldn't seem to master it and he was getting frustrated. I was exhausted and getting stressed about him not eating. If we couldn't get him to latch on, then we would pump and use a syringe to get some food in his belly.
Also, I am the type of person that when I have a problem or challenge, I want to be left alone to figure it out. I wanted to be in Evan's room and try to figure out this whole nursing thing with him. I don't want anyone in there with me. Not my mom, not my sisters, not even Brian. Just leave me alone so I can relax and try to remember what the boob nazis showed me.
People were calling to come over, but we asked that we just have a day to ourselves to recover. And we did have ourselves a nice little Saturday. During the afternoon, Brian loaded up Evan in the stroller and took him and Truman for a walk while I grabbed a nap.
That evening, my mom came down to help us through the night.
Sunday
Sometime during the wee-small hours of the morning when Evan was turning purple from screaming and doing everything he could to prevent himself from nursing, I decided to give up and just give him a bottle. I had been pumping, so we tried that and guess what, IT WORKED!
He was happy, I was relieved and we all went back to bed a little more relaxed. Like I said before, the boob nazis drilled it into my head that HE MUST EAT EVERY THREE HOURS. During the night, this was the hardest thing to do. Have you ever tried to wake up an infant? We tried everything short of dunking him in cold water to get him awake to eat. During these times he would eat a 1/2 ounce here and a full ounce there. Not much. But he was eating and that was a considerable improvement over Friday and Saturday night.
We had visitors throughout the afternoon and I even managed to grab a power nap or two. Every says to sleep when the baby sleeps. That's a lot easier said than done. At some point, you are just awake and going back to sleep is just impossible. Now that we have introduced the bottle option, it is a lot easier.
Cute Story
Truman, who is terrified of anything that moves, suddenly has no fear of Evan's swing. When Evan is in his swing, Truman will get down from the couch every few minutes and go right up to it to peer in and make sure he is okay. We will try to get a picture of this, but it happens to quick most of the time. We really couldn't have asked for a better reaction to Evan than what Truman has given us so far.
Monday
We had Evan's first pediatrician appointment. I didn't realize how anxious I was for this appointment. Basically, we would be finding out if we were slowly starving the boy to death or causing some other catastrophic/developmental issue. When we got there, the nurse weighed him and he was 8 pounds 12 ounces. My heart sank. He was 8-14 when we left the hospital. If he lost more weight, he's not eating enough. But then the doctor came in and the first words out of his mouth were:
"He's a big baby and big babies tend to lose a lot of weight right after they are born. In fact, they can lose 10 percent, so he is looking good."
Relief! I wasn't slowly killing our son. We asked about pointers for waking him so he could eat. The doctor said, "If he is sleeping at night, LET HIM SLEEP! I'd only wake him if he hasn't stirred in about 5 hours. I would try and wake him every three hours during the day so he doesn't get day-night confusion."
We asked about bottle feeding. He said as long as he's eating it didn't matter to him. Everyone is different so we should do what works for us and Evan.
When we left the doctor's office, I felt like the whole world had been removed from my shoulders. We weren't slowly starving our son to death. He was healthy. He passed all of his tests.
We went home, ate and decided to do our first outing together (not counting the doctor's office) and go to Costco. Evan just finished eating and was sound asleep. It was a very efficient trip and Evan did great! So great that he pooped out of his diaper on the way home. So gross. But he didn't scream or cry and Costco is literally 5 minutes away - less than that if you get the stop lights.
That night we let him sleep. He ate at 2:00 a.m. and then didn't rouse again until about 6. It was awesome.
The boob nazis' (lactation specialists) main concern is that if you want to breast feed, you are giving yourself enough stimulation to produce an adequate supply of milk. Hence, the three-hour rule. The pediatrician's main concern is the health of the baby. And, as he informed Brian and I, sometimes that correlates directly with the health of mom, so it is essential that we both get enough sleep. I have a lot of friends who nurse directly, others bottled and still others went straight to formula for one reason or another. All of their babies are happy and healthy, so it just goes to show that it is important to figure out what works best for you and your baby.
Tuesday
Probably one of the closest things we have had to a "lazy day" since coming home. We took Evan on a long walk. This turned out to be a little much for me as my back was really barking at me afterwards. But the weather was so nice, you have to go out in it and Truman needs the exercise.
We noticed on the walk that Truman who always trots out in front, would slow down and stop whenever people were walking towards us. He watched them until they had passed by me and the stroller. He really is Evan's fierce protector!
That afternoon, Brian was changing Evan. I had been razzing him because he was the only one that escaped his monster poop in the hospital unscathed. Well, Evan evened the score. As Brian was preparing the gauze pad for Evan's circumcision area, all of a sudden a perfect fountain of pee shot up into the air, on Brian, over the side and onto the floor. Brian used the gauze he had just prepared to cover him before anymore could pass. Everyone warned us that boys would potentially spray us. I knew it was a matter of time.
Another revelation: Evan is like his mom when it comes to grumpiness and food. When he is hungry he will attack a bottle like a ravenous dog going after a T-bone. If you don't have it ready when he is hungry, he will turn purple from screaming. That's my boy. So we watch the clock for the three-hour feedings during the day and cry "alert" when it is time to get everything ready.
Evan's honorary aunt Abbie came by and brought dinner. She likes playing with his cheeks and somehow has convinced Truman that she has authorized access, because so far she is the only one he doesn't seem concerned about when holding Evan.
Today
Evan is one week old today. I think we are all starting to recover. Don't get me wrong, we are all still exhausted, but we are figuring it out. The hard part is once you think you have found something that works, some other little kink will come up or you'll find your trick only worked once. We worry Evan will get the day-night confusion, so we are working on sticking with a schedule as best as possible during the daytime. I have day of the week confusion. When we went to Costco, I thought it was Saturday. I think today is Thursday.
My recovery is going pretty well. My lower back is my biggest source of aches and pains right now. My left foot is still very swollen, but really not bad. I never filled the prescription I was given for percoset as I didn't think what pain I did have couldn't be managed with the prescription-strength Motrin I also received. Plus, I really don't like taking pain medication like vicotin or percoset or codene. I was pretty accident-prone in college and had all of these items prescribed to me at some point. They turn me into a zombie or put me in a very hard sleep. I don't think I need that while trying to take care of Evan. And, because of my accident-prone days in college, I have a pretty high pain threshold so it needs to be bad before I start wanting "the good stuff."
Brian also seems to be doing well. He is the constant worrier, but is also filling the role Dad beautifully. Putting together play yards and play gyms, looking up information, going to the store and changing more than his fair share of poopy diapers. The stress and disrupted sleep cycle has also taken its toll on him, but he handles it well. He also does a very good job dealing with me and my grumpiness.
Happy one-week birthday Evan!
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