I’m a bit overdue for this post — the “three months” part of the title is quickly becoming dated — time to write! We’ve made a good bit of progress since my first Elimination Communication (EC) post. While he’s still most definitely in diapers, Gabriel pees and poops on his potty regularly when we’re at home, and we’ve had some 24-48 hour stretches with only one or two wet diapers 🙂
I’m not amazing at reading his pee signals (if he’s giving them), so pee catches involve putting him on the potty at regular times: when he first wakes up, right after a meal, if he’s hanging out and it’s been awhile since a pee, etc. Poop signals are easier to read, but I still hesitate to interrupt a good feeding to rush him onto the pot.
In a recent post, I mentioned the possibility of starting another blog, one entitled Blue Green Mama. While I don’t intend to start another blog, the title is worth a post, because it alludes to postpartum adjustment issues.
Ironically, I started reading blogs, and later writing my own, because of a blogger who wrote very openly about her own struggles with postpartum depression. Yet, when my blues set in 2-3 weeks postpartum, my initial reaction was denial. I’ve taken psychology classes, my mom’s a social worker, I’m somewhat familiar with the depression screening inventories – nope, not me. Sure, there are some pretty low lows, but sometimes I feel okay, and I’m still getting out of bed in the morning, and semi-functioning, and I’m an exhausted new mom . . . this is normal, right?
Normal only in the sense that many women experience some form of “baby blues,” but not in the sense that it’s okay, or just something I had to struggle through on my own. However, in my denial, struggling through it on my own is more or less what I did for several weeks.
Gabriel’s smiles finally snapped me out of my denial. He started smiling around nine weeks, this adorable little grin, yet I found myself so emotionally drained that I often couldn’t return those smiles, and that made me feel even worse. Until that point, I didn’t think my problem affected anyone other than me, but now it limited my ability to interact with my baby.
I contacted Mother-to-Mother, a local postpartum adjustment resource, and started to realize that maybe I didn’t have to feel this way – I only wish that I’d made the call earlier. After calls to various counselors, wading through insurance coverage issues, and some deliberation, I settled on seeing an “out-of-network” counselor who came highly recommended.
I’m pretty sure (and this is not just the denial speaking) that I don’t have full-blown postpartum depression, but some degree of postpartum adjustment disorder. Either way, there is help available — I don’t have to feel this way. I started counseling last week, and while it won’t happen overnight, things ARE going to get better.
So, during the whole “your baby has some deadly infection,” NICU debacle, we were facing the possibility of Gabriel having a 14-21 day stay in the NICU (if he did indeed have an infection) for continuing IV antibiotic treatment.
As I was lying in my hospital bed, drifting in and out of sleep, thinking about running back and forth from home to the hospital to feed my baby, it crossed my mind that perhaps I could make some of the trips by bicycle (the hospital we chose is within 4-5 miles of our apartment). Sure, it’s been really hot, but it would be nice to cut down on the car time, and I was really looking forward to being back on the bicycle.
I continued processing the idea, and a few moments later, reality cut through the sleep-deprivation and Percocet-induced haze, and I thought to myself, “Self, you just had major abdominal surgery three days ago, I don’t really think you’ll be riding your bicycle anytime soon.”
The sad truth is that it will be at least a few more weeks before I am reunited with Bub or Baby Jake. Right now, doing the stairs a few times a day and very slow, very short walks are about the extent of my physical activity. Well, that and lifting my 10+ pounder 🙂
Two weeks ago today I underwent major surgery . . . for a tummy tuck and a boob job. Okay, not exactly, but it kind of looks like it 😉 Here’s what really happened.Continue reading “Under the knife”
I plan to eventually post the entire birth story here (or at least an abridged version, as it was quite the saga), but for now, you’ll have to accept bits and pieces, in no particular order. The end is a decent place to start.
After making two big, tough decisions — transferring to the hospital and then eventually opting for a C-section — we thought the hard part was over after they moved me from recovery to a regular room. Instead, it signaled the beginning of 3 1/2 hellish days, starting with irregular results of Gabriel’s initial blood work.
Long story short, we are fairly certain now that whoever drew the blood did not follow proper site sterilization procedures, leading to contamination of the sample. This led to a cascade of unnecessary interventions that included antibiotics, several lumbar punctures (to test for meningitis — and guess what? improper site sterilization for lumbar punctures can CAUSE meningitis — lovely), and Gabriel (who wants it on the record that he was perfectly healthy the entire time) spending two completely unnecessary days in the NICU so they could “observe” him and begin treatment immediately when he began his [nonexistent] decline.
After lots of pressure about starting treatment, heavy-handed “I’m the doctor so of course I know best” rhetoric, and scare tactics based on one-sided information, the pediatricians on-staff never apologized or admitted that the whole ordeal was most likely due to a mistake on their part.
Instead, on their final visit before we were discharged on Friday, the two pediatricians came into the room for one final visit. We greeted them icily, and gave them the answers that they wanted to hear (of course the baby will always sleep in his own bed) to get them on their way ASAP.
They could have offered something to try to end things on a pleasant note, but instead, as they were about to leave, the more senior pediatrician, said, “We’re so happy we could give you a healthy baby.”
Matthew and I were floored. You GAVE us a healthy baby? Excuse me? I had a healthy baby, and your messed-up procedures caused completely unnecessary concerns and procedures, like the lumbar punctures and unnecessary antibiotics, that could have damaged his health.
Though they were already on their way out of the room and we did not get to call them on it, pictures are worth a thousand words, and I believe Gabriel put this quite eloquently.*
Gabriel's response to Doctor Don't
*Note, this picture was not staged, although it did not occur at the time of the doctor’s statement.
Her Green Life 