Friday, April 30, 2010

The Nonnie

Dear Scarlett,
You are a very lucky little baby. I could list the reasons why this is true (your massive shoe collection comes to mind), but there's one reason that really dwarfs all the others and that is your Grandma, more commonly referred to as Nonnie. Nonnie arrived the day after you were born and met us at the house just as we were coming home from the hospital. She immediately got to work cooking us healthy meals, organizing your clothes, teaching you and me tons of songs--the amount of which only a kindergarten teacher would know--and occasionally popping out to get her nails done.



It was all smooth sailing (with not a lot of sleep). Then two weeks after you were born, we took you to the doctor and he told us you weren't gaining enough weight. Both Nonnie and Pops were with us that day and they saw how devastated I was by the news. You had to get blood drawn, which was horrible, and then we had to figure out what was going wrong with breastfeeding. The doctor told us it was an absolutely fixable problem, but it was still an upsetting time.

Though we met with a lactation consultant and worked hard to make sure you were eating enough, I really started to dread feeding times. There was a lot of crying, some from you, but mostly from me. Dad eventually had to go back to work, but Nonnie was still there to take care of us both. After several days, you still weren't getting enough, so we had to start supplementing with formula. I wanted to do anything we needed to turn you into a healthy, chubby baby, but I was disappointed that we had to use formula and hoped it wouldn't be for too long. At our next doctor's appointment, you had gained enough weight for us all to relax a little bit. But there was still work to be done. We spoke with another lactation consultant and were able to master the correct techniques for feeding you. You showed incredible progress almost immediately. Nonnie took over your middle of the night bottle feedings for a few nights, so that I could get some sleep. She listened to my worries and reassured me that it would all work out. We were able to wean you off of your formula feedings within the week. Now, at 5 1/2 weeks old, you are exclusively breastfed and a great eater--as evidenced by your increasingly chunky cheeks.



Those two weeks were tough and kept us stuck in the house a lot. Nonnie cooked for us, did loads of laundry, and spent many mornings with you while I napped. She sang you songs like Mairzy Doats, Hush Little Baby, and You are My Sunshine, and played you a CD she made for you called Scarlett's Songs.

Occasionally, we let Nonnie out of the house. She borrowed my bike and rode around town, grudgingly wearing a helmet. One day she went biking with Aunt Liz and Rob. There are really no words for what happened there, so I'll just let the picture speak for itself.



Both Nonnie and the bike ended up being fine. It's probably best that we forced her to wear the helmet.

Nonnie went everywhere with us while she was here, made coffee runs, took trips to the grocery store, and sat with me while I worked through some of the issues that come with being a new mom. She and I watched TV shows together, knitted together, and played with you all the time. Nothing would have been the same without her.



You are definitely not the only lucky one. Dad and I are lucky, too. We had a lot of help and support to get you to your first month and beyond. But what I'll miss the most about having my mom here is being able to share all of your daily progress (and hilarious faces) with her. Dad will miss sharing a bottle of wine with her over dinner, and the fact that she has been directly responsible for much of my sanity. And I know you'll miss your Nonnie, too.







Love,
Mom

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Yoga Class

Dear Scarlett,
We went to our first postnatal yoga class today. I wasn't sure how it would go, since you were in Ferocious Beast mode yesterday and ate all day and night. I couldn't even put you down in your bassinet last night--you slept on top of me. But this morning, you had calmed down enough for class.

You stayed in bed with Dad while I got ready, and here are the things I heard him saying to you:

"I want you to be the best baby in the yoga class. Prove yourself to all the other babies. I want the best downward dog and the best chanting. Ok?"

Dad promises not to talk to you like this when you are old enough to understand him. But your chanting was pretty good.

Love,
Mom

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Your Birth Story

Dear Scarlett,
So many people told me you would come early. I wasn’t sure I believed them, although it certainly felt like you were close. I started having very regular contractions about a week before you were born. They didn’t hurt, and I knew it could still be a while before you arrived, so I tried not to get too excited. It was hard!

March 22 was my first official day off work, and you clearly didn’t want me to enjoy my time off. Real labor started that day. Daddy went to work in the morning, and I began my day by thinking about how often the contractions were coming. It was every 7 minutes or so, but I still thought they were the “fake” kind. I spent my morning on Facebook and emailing Daddy about the things I was reading. He emailed back “THIS is how you spend your time off?”

At 10am, he decided to come home and we took a walk and went to The Little Chihuahua for lunch. I had spicy tortilla soup because I thought it might get you going. And it did—we had to leave the restaurant when my contractions got stronger. At around 3:30pm we started to time them, and they were coming fairly regularly, about 7 minutes apart. I was in the kitchen making cookies for the nurses at the hospital, but I still didn’t truly believe I was in labor. We called our doula, Angelika, just to let her know what was going on. She said that since I was still making cookies (even though I had to stop and lean over the counter with each contraction), I was likely only in very early labor. But she wanted to come over anyway to see how far along I was. She told me I was 1.5 cm dilated and to call her as things progressed.

The afternoon continued much the same way. We started watching Couples Retreat, and Aunt Liz came over. Dad tried out his video camera and Aunt Liz performed imitations of me having contractions, making us all laugh. I was on the floor kneeling on a pillow with my arms and head resting on the couch during the contractions, which were painful but totally manageable.

After a while, that stopped working and I decided to take a bath. The hot water was really nice, and I stayed there for a while. Aunt Liz left, and the contractions started to pick up in intensity. I got out of the tub, but stayed in the bathroom on my hands and knees on the floor. Dad brought pillows in and sat on the edge of the bathtub so he could squeeze my hips together when the contractions came. You were really on the way, and it hurt more than I had imagined it could. But I tried to stay calm and think about you. We called Angelika and when she arrived, she told us I was 5cm dilated.

It was so exciting. Our whole plan was to get to about 5cm at home and then head to the hospital--and it was working. You were very cooperative! I rested in bed for a few more contractions while Angelika rubbed my back and shoulders and told me to let the contractions wash over me. She wanted me to be completely limp and not fight the pain. That was tough, but having her there helped immensely. Between contractions I just rested quietly. Dad got everything we needed into the car and we left. I had about 3 contractions in the car, and as we approached the hospital, we both realized that he had never been there and had no idea where to go. He was out of town when I did the hospital tour. I had no glasses or contacts on (both had been packed in the hospital bag), so I was no help. We had to ask someone where to go, which was a little stressful. When we got into the hospital around midnight, a security guard took one look at us and pointed down the hall. “That way, man,” he said to Dad. I guess it was pretty obvious why we were there.

When we got to Labor and Delivery, Angelika gave the nurses our birth plan—we wanted you to be born without any intervention or pain medication, and we asked that the environment be very calm and quiet. The lights were turned off almost completely in the room, and everyone left except for Dad and Angelika. I drank pink lemonade and water, and moved around the room a lot, trying to get comfortable, which was impossible. As you got closer to coming, I got a little scared. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take the pain. Angelika rubbed my head and told me you were almost here. Dad told me to keep thinking about you and what a great job I was doing. I started to feel like I needed to push you out. We were still alone in the room, so Dad tried to get on the phone to call the nurses station, while Angelika yelled into the hallway “There’s a baby coming!”

Suddenly the room was full of people and they were all telling me to push. Harder, harder, harder, they kept saying, even though my chin was in my chest, my lungs felt like they would explode and I was pushing as hard as I possibly could with every contraction. For a moment, this part actually felt like a break, since it didn’t hurt as much. I was sitting up against pillows and had my feet in my hands, pulling them towards me. I reached down to feel your head, which was like a lumpy bowl of oatmeal. Sorry, but it was. Each push felt like it could be my last, and finally (after only about 20 minutes) one of them was. You came out in a whoosh, and were placed on my chest briefly. The nurses thought you might be having trouble breathing, so they whisked you away to a corner of the room (Dad went with) for a few minutes. I kept asking for you, since I knew you were just fine.

When they gave you back to me, I held you and stared. I couldn’t believe it was over and that you were with us. It was the single most amazing experience I have ever had, and although I can no longer remember the pain of it (thankfully), I will always remember how shocking and truly incredible it felt to know that you had arrived. You were—and are—beautiful. I could look at you forever.

You were born at UCSF on March 23rd at 4:33am. You were two days early, weighed 7 lbs 9 oz, and measured 20 inches long. Once you came out, your head did not feel like oatmeal.

I love you,
Mom

Sunday, April 18, 2010