Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Tummy Time and Reading

Now that all of our family is gone, Alaska and I have had more time to get to know each other. I was just a little self-conscious to talk to her when everyone was listening, ya know? I didn't want to sound like a crazy person talking to someone who couldn't respond back, but mostly I didn't want to say the wrong thing. What if I talked to her and she screamed louder? I was supposed to be her mother and that means knowing exactly what to do all of the time. I couldn't let on that I had no idea what I was doing. I always let someone take her when she was crying if they offered. I figured two mothers knew a lot more about calming babies than I did, even if she was my own little girl.

I will forever remember when we got back from a walk to the post office and Megan and I were the only ones in the house with Alaska screaming her eyeballs out. Seriously, those things were bulging in the way only a newborn can make them do.I don't know what I was thinking, but I half expected Megan to take her and bounce her around like she was so good at doing. I had more faith in her giving Alaska what she needed than I had in myself. Isn't there something twisted with that? I just stood there, petrified by the screaming mouth and bulging eyes that had become my baby. It wasn't until Megan offered to help me get her out of the stroller that I realized that it was my job to calm her down and I was terrified. It should have been my first instinct to scoop her up in my arms and sing her a lullaby or rock her, but instead it had taken Megan prodding me to pick her up.

Everyone so far had always reached out and taken her from me when she was bawling. Much to my relief and to my annoyance. How was I going to learn how to calm her if I never got her when she was crying and to my relief because I had no idea what to do. I felt so much pressure to make her be quiet and behave when I really had no idea who this little being in my arms was. All of her cries sounded the same and I didn't have a huge arsenal of 'this could be wrong, try this.' It was terrible.

We've been having a lot of needed time together. She has her tummy time while I pick up the scattered baby clothes and burp cloths and ditch them in a soaking tub of biz. She's gotten a more predictable schedule of being awake for a hour and a half and then we have quiet reading time as I spill out love story after love story by Nicholas Sparks while she falls asleep in my arms. I know that when a chapter is through she's generally asleep enough to be put down. I am beginning to recognize her cries as tired or hungry and it has brought relief to both of us. Her frustrated screams come less often, though they still come. Life isn't perfect, but it's better.

The Drinking Game

We took Alaska in for her two week appointment and she hadn't regained her birth weight. I'm new at this whole 'worried mother' thing and was not concerned. I've never given much weight to scales. No pun intended. They're kind of dumb and useless unless you're weighing your luggage on your way back to college because your suitcase can't be over 50 lbs without paying an extra fine. She was eating and pooping. Nothing was wrong until that scale got a hold of her weight. However, Steven was interested and asked the doctor what we should be doing to get her up to par. He's such a good dad. Of course, it was up to me to drink more water. Drown myself in the stuff and drink my lungs out. Our goal weigh-in for the next week was an ounce a day, at the very least 5 ounces as a total.

I did my best. I have never been awesome at drinking water. My mom told me in high school that I had better hope I never get in a car crash 'cause my veins would be so small due to dehydration that they wouldn't be able to stick me with IVs. She may have said that to keep my speed less than lightning. But seriously, I would always have a marathon day of drinking water before I went to the doctors, donated blood or what have you to pretend everything was fine.

On top of drinking more water I vowed to wake her every two hours to eat. She has a habit of sinking into a nap of 4 to 5 hours. At a week old I started recording her eating times and she went 6 and 8 hours without anything. I thought this probably attributed to her less than desired weight.

The next week she had only gained two ounces. If there is anything that strips all motherly confidence faster and makes a mother feel insecure about herself it's to tell her that she's not producing enough milk to feed her baby. I cried. I was the worst mother in the world, not even able to feed my own baby, the simplest and most natural and instinctive of all tasks. I couldn't understand how my body couldn't keep up. And then I got mad.

It wasn't just my fault for not drinking enough water. It was her fault, too. This whole 'feeding a child' thing is a 50/50 effort. If she would eat like a normal child we wouldn't be having this problem. Taking long naps between nursing made my body slow down its production. I had woken her up for the most part every couple of hours, but there were a few times when I hadn't set my internal timer and with her being quiet I got busy and totally forgot. I thought back to when I was engorged and needed her the most to nurse and tell me body how much I needed and that whole day she ate next to nothing. And then, of course, the part about how even when I woke her up she was usually too tired to really do a good job at sucking and it was worthless. She would cry for a hour or so from being woken up and I would be lost as to what to do to make her comfortable again since she wouldn't latch.

After my desperate tears came my mad tears and when I was all through crying I lifted my head and decided to drink more water. To pump after every feeding to simulate her sucking and cause my body to produce more than she was actually eating. And then to feed her that extra half ounce right there because the milk at the end is the fattiest and that was the milk she wasn't getting. To not rely on her at all but to let her sleep to her heart's content and pump even when she hadn't eaten. To feed her that pumped milk when she was awake. It was going to be a big job, but I did it.

Again, she only gained two ounces. I didn't let myself feel anything at this point. I figured that she may just have to make her own average weight chart and that at least she wasn't losing any weight. We weren't sliding backwards.

Steven was still convinced that I wasn't drinking enough water. I felt like I was drowning in the stuff and had gone through more toilet paper the past week than I usually did in two. I was having enough, I was sure of it.

Steven made up a chart for me to record my water intake on. Down one side is 12 am to 12 pm, across the top are the dates of the week. Every time I drink a glass of water I get to color a square. And surprisingly, it worked. It was just a job the first day and I drank what I normally did, 5 glasses. I was supposed to be drinking 12-16. Guess I wasn't doing as awesome as I had thought with drinking water, but 5 is a big step up from my usual goose egg. No wonder I was feeling drowned. As the week went on, it became a game. How many squares could I color in a day? Steven would check in on it every time he was home from lunch and therefore, the drinking game was born.

Our game plan right now is for me to color in as many squares as possible and we're offering Alaska a bottle of formula after every feeding. Sometimes she takes it, sometimes she doesn't. She always gets a bottle at night, when she's in the middle of her cluster feeding. I can't keep up with her eating for 20 minutes, resting for 30 and eating again. Not when she's such a bad eater during the day. My mom calls her a lazy nurser, but I prefer to call her a careful eater. She takes forever to feed 'cause she pauses so many times but she also hardly ever spits up. She is definitely listening to her body and its needs. I am so proud of her even if frustrating to feed her for a hour. If I try to force formula or extra breast milk into her it most often ends up coming back out. I've learned to just let her pull away when she's ready. Topping her off does nothing but make a mess to clean up.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Take Courage

Alaska and I went on our first outing by ourselves. It's something I have been dreading. There's something super intimidating about a car seat. Those things are huge, and they're kind of heavy (guess that depends more on your baby) and they're definitely super awkward. Definitely.

The stake was putting on a woman's conference type of devotional thing at 9 in the morning. Now, that alone posed a problem since Alaska likes to sleep in late. She's usually eating her first breakfast around 9. Luckily the morning came early today at 7:40 and I fed her while frantically doing calculations in my head about how to best manage my time to get us out the door by 8:30 to get Steven to work and get us to the church and reverent by 9. Ever heard if you're not 10 minutes early, you're late? Yes, I am one of those people. With church anyways. You gotta have time to get your jacket off and get settled enough to search for a hymn book before you can be properly ready to feel the spirit. And share a few smiles with people who are streaming in. That part is important, too.

I got everything squared away and we were pulling out of the driveway right at 8:30. Of course, I can't take too much credit for that since Steven did the getting ready of Alaska. The standard clean diaper and check of baby essentials in the diaper bag. But I can take credit for having myself ready. That sometimes can be a pretty big job. Especially since lately I've had a super hard time trying on an outfit that fits right the first time. I cannot believe that I used to be so small! And I also cannot believe how big I have become. I call it invisible fat. It's all up in my legs and my shoulders where it's not noticeable until I am trying to squeeze into pantyhose, which are no piece of cake to begin with, or when I am slipping on a t-shirt. If it were muscle I could qualify as a female version of the hulk.

Dropping off Steven I was confident as could be expected from a girl about to embark on a journey with the one thing more unpredictable than chasing down a loose hamster. Taking a baby somewhere where they're expected to be polite and calm. And quiet. Most of all quiet.

I am pretty sure Alaska was asleep when I parked the car because she hadn't cried a peep. Usually she screams and hollers in her car seat, upset and frustrated at being strapped in and sitting up. Not this time. But, because this was my first time out with her by myself. My first time of getting a car seat out of the back of the car. My first time at trying not to knock the seat too hard as I pulled its awkwardness out I failed. I heard a hard grunt and knew I was going to have to use my back-up bottle sooner than I had thought.

We got in to the chapel quietly enough and it was my plan to sit on the front row so that no one would have to scoot past me and so I would have an easy exit if I needed it. I didn't think far enough to contemplate that the re-entrance therefore wouldn't be near as graceful. I quickly scanned the isles as I walked towards the front, searching for any faces that I knew and therefore requiring a smile of acknowledgement. All was clear and then I was almost there and I was losing confidence fast. Number one, it's hard to walk to the front in the first place, number two it's even harder carrying a car seat since everyone naturally expects you to sit in the back. Number three, it's hard to go anywhere where there are so many people who know each other and came together and you came alone. I'm no stickler and can make friends fast with just about anyone I sit next to, but it sure makes an awkward five minutes of sitting alone while I watch everyone that knows each other group together and I have to look like I'm fine with it that way.

Right when I was about to enter from the back door and abandon all hopes of staying and walk right through the front door I saw the cute lady from across our street. She's got quite the spunk left in her for being 80 something. I took her cookies one dreary December day and we've been friends since. She loves Alaska and had even already been over to say hello. She was a safe spot in my closing line of vision as I came closer and closer to the front. One row back from the front wasn't that bad and that's right where she was positioned. I bee-lined for her and was welcomed with a hug and a, "Let's see that cute girl."

I had thought we had gotten in pretty quietly, but as I pulled back the cover on Alaska's car seat she was already getting her quiet cries built up to something real. The organ music had totally drowned her out. I felt like such a bad mother for not even realizing that my little angel was in such distress and I immediately set her up with a bottle while everyone around us cooed about how adorable she was. What I hadn't anticipated was how much attention she needed, even when taking a bottle. I was constantly checking to make sure she wasn't dribbling or swallowing air or anything else that would be frowned upon.

We got through that ok and she was definitely the center of attention without me even trying. The program started 10 minutes late due to sound problems, which obviously hadn't been perfected as the organ blasted the opening hymn. And when I say blast I mean it could have competed with a train wreck. It startled me, which startled Alaska but no one could hear her cry because it was so loud. Our ears adjusted and by the time it was over we were both calmed down, however the quietness sent her into another series of whimpers through the prayer. We lasted through a song sang solo and the introduction of the speaker before it was just too much for her. The volume differences I think were what set her off. I walked us out of there at exactly the right time and made our loud way up and down the hall before I found the mother's lounge.

I wrapped her up tight and she was asleep in 15 minutes. We listened to the presentation from the foyer where the volume was a little more controllable with her cuddled against my shoulder.

Normally I wouldn't make a big deal of getting out to go to a devotional, but last years had been fantastic and I felt like I could use something like that again. This was not so awesome and it was perfectly fine that I had left the diaper bag with my notebook and pen in the chapel. The speaker was the director of 17 Miracles and after showing a 10 minute clip of the movie and explaining the history of those clips opened the rest of the time up for for questions. Good excuse to make a hour talk only be 10. I wasn't so impressed. But it was good to be out. It was good to be doing something I knew I ought to be doing and it was good to have my little girl with me, polite, calm and quiet. Which was more than a few of the other little girls were doing who were out in the hall with us.