Tired Is The New Black

Sadie is over two weeks old, well past her birth weight (11 ounces past to be almost exact), and we have had a dizzying week of firsts. Pictured above is our first visit to the pediatrician. Sadie, our champion, peed when they weighed her and then screamed loud enough to curl the linoleum in our little examination room. Yes sir, that's my baby.

We have plumb tuckered her out. Yesterday, she went to her first meeting with mama and then went to her first retail store (Old Navy-- don't judge me) and her first grocery store (Dominick's). So many firsts, is it any wonder this child can sleep 4 hours at a stretch? Now, if only those hours were at NIGHT!

The pediatrican asked us if Sadie knows the difference between night and day. Jeff and I just stared at each other. We barely know the difference and we sure as hell don't know how to tell if SHE knows if it's night or day. I admit that question made me wonder if there is something I am supposed to be doing to teach her the difference between night and day. Do I need to be reading about this? Asking around? Somehow I think me getting a system or "right way to do it" stuck in my head is a very, very bad idea. There are very few absolutes in my mind when it comes to my relationship with Sadie, but one of them is that if I try to exert my will on her, we will all end up miserable. For now, I will just trust that it will all work out at some point. I did tell her all day, "it's day time," and when the sun went down I started saying, "it's nighttime." Here's hoping she's a very verbal learner!

The fatigue is starting to catch up with me. I have that low grade headache all the time and almost always feel nauseated. I also finished the Norco. Actually, there's a bunch left, but I haven't taken them in over 48 hours so that little chapter in my narcotics history is closed. Ever since I stopped taking it, my appetite is vengeful. All I want is a blizzard, and I am not talking about snow. I am also not talking about yogurt or low calorie or low fat ice cream. I am talking about full fat creamy ice cream with cookies in it. Oreos. It's the first craving I have had since Sadie was born. Once I decided I have no idea how to manage getting a stupid blizzard, I decided I had to have some macaroni and cheese. I got neither today, but tomorrow is another day.

The biggest consequence of letting go of Norco is being able to drive. Today Sadie and I drove by ourselves downtown for a doctor's appointment. We listened to the CD that is a recording of a blow dryer, which saved the ride. It was a big step towards getting out and about with my little baby. Not sure what our next milestone will be, but for now I am celebrating being able to get around and be out and about with Sadie and being able to endure the pain of the C-Section armed only with Motrin and my sunny disposition.

Recovery

Right behind me, Jeff has Sadie draped in a black velvet cloth and is doing a photo shoot with her. (Results above.) She's being unbelievably game for this exercise, and he snapped about 800 shots before she called it a day. I am having a moment. I just read an account of a woman who was able to have a drug-free vaginal birth-- she went into pretty great detail-- and a wave of sadness has just descended on me. Actually, I already felt sort of sad because my uterus still hurts and so do my nipples. Happy to report to anyone who cares that Preparation H seems to be a miracle in a tube, but still. I want to have more energy and I want to not have this troublesome pain in my right abdomen, that is likely the site of the stitches in my uterus. I have been trying to wean myself off the Norco, the drug that the doctor prescribed for me. I am allowed to take one every four hours, but I am now doing about every 8 or 12 hours. Um, maybe that's why it hurts.

But I don't want to be on opiates anymore. I can't drive as long as I am on them. My appetite is all funky when I am on them and I am not keen on taking them while breast feeding Sadie. The result is that I have pain and I get all weepy and withdrawn, which even in my condition, does not seem like a family friendly alternative. Tomorrow is two weeks since Sadie's birth and when I think about what happened to my body, it seems like that it's not outrageous that it still hurts. I have taken yoga classes that took weeks to recover from. In the back of my mind, I wonder if I just let myself have the meltdown about how Sadie's birth transpired-- just let it all out once and for all-- maybe I would make better decisions about how to proceed with the pain and the recovery and I would take better stock of my options.

I also just read an article in the New York Times about a woman who describes herself as very tough. Her proof that she's not a pushover? She's had a drug-free vaginal birth and then refused drugs after a C-section. She's perfectly articulated my underlying beliefs: using drugs makes me a pushover, a woman who is not strong, a woman who copped out or didn't do her homework or didn't love her baby enough to growl, grunt, and chant through a natural childbirth. I am wimpy because major abdominal surgery laid me out so completely that I took drugs to recover from the experience of having my uterus stitched up while it was out of my body and sitting on the outside of my stomach. It's just one of the legion of debates that women engage in-- to work or stay home? Breastfeed or bottle? Pacifier or no? Drugs after childbirth or not? To indulge in the Bob stroller or "settle" for the $238.00 MacLaren?

Enough already. It wasn't a political statement for me to have a C-section. I don't really care what other women do/did/will do. While the personal may be political, for me, the only thing that matters is the personal right now. I don't really have time for all of this perseverating. I would rather be watching my daughter in her swing or talking to Jeff about Henry Louis Gates Jr.'s arrest for disorderly conduct. Or, most importantly, get some sleep so I'll be ready to be present when my daughter needs me in a few hours.

Have I Told Ya'll Lately That I Love You?

I do. The loves of my life: Jeff and Sadie.

And yes, that's a sweater onsie with a sweater hat in July because it's 66 degrees! How cute is my little eskimo?

Sunday Blues

Let's get one thing straight: I adore my daughter. I love every inch of her and could literally spend hours staring at her tiny features and her hands and feet. There is nothing I would not do for her.

And.

And, this is really hard. By "this," I mean being a new mom to a new baby and spending hours a day not knowing what I am doing, what Sadie is doing, what she needs and how to comfort her or give her what she wants or needs. The ear-piercing crying is like a red bull shot to my heart. She used to have a cry that was a slow build up to the full-out, I-am-going-to-rock-this-entire-zipcode-with-my-tiny-vocal-chords, and now we skipped all the foreplay and she just opens her mouth and screams as if I was threatening to leave her with Michael Jackson (when he was still alive). It is hard to get used to. I was hoping she would not make this a habit, but it started yesterday, and she has perfected it today. She also started doing her champion screaming during her feedings. I am still recovering from having her little head pop off my breast and launch into this distressed scream. Not exactly the reaction I want to have when someone has sampled my breast.

So, here's how I have handled this new development. First, I catastrophize in my head that she'll scream all day every day for the rest of her life, which is going to make her career at Yale very trying. Then, I start to cry silently until Jeff tries to interact with me, at which time I start to cry openly and unabashedly. The next step was to put out the S.O.S. on Facebook letting every parent who can see my status update that my sweet little Sadie has been permanently affected by something horrific and irreversible that I have done in her first 10 dayys of life and that I am decidedly ON THE EDGE. Then, I turn to the telephone and start calling all of the moms I know to ask them (1) why my child is screaming hysterically after NOT doing that for the first 9 days of her life and (2) what do I do to make it stop so I don't have to feel ashamed that I ruined her whole entire life. This last step was seriously frustrated because I accidentally put my cell phone in the washing machine this morning when I did a load of laundry. The phone is not going to make it. Thus, gone are the numbers of my mommy friends-- washed away like the soil on our sheets. To remedy that aparent tragedy, I turned back to my lifeline, Facebook, and posted that I lost my cell phone and the only way to contact me is through email or our home phone.

And, then I took my little Sadie in my arms and I told her the following:

"Sadie, I love you. I love your feelings and fully support you screaming at the top of your lungs. It's good to feel feelings and to express them. You are doing a good job being a baby. You are supposed to cry to communicate with me. It's my job to figure out what you need and want. Mommy may have feelings about your screaming or crying, but it's not your job to take care of me. I have lots of support in my life-- people who can help take care of me so I can take care of you. I am not going anywhere no matter how long or how loud you scream. We are both learning and there are new things every day. I will probably disappoint you a lot, but you will not disappoint me. You are the perfect baby for me. You and all of your feelings and all of your expressions are welcome here. They are essential for your emotional development, which is important to me. Thank you for letting me know when something is not right with you or when you need someting you don't have."

She kept on crying, which is basically what I told her to do. It's very important to me to raise a daughter who feels safe and comfortable being loud or angry or vocal or lonely. I want her to know that I honestly do support her having feelings and that they are beautiful-- and any failure on my part to embrace the parts of her that need to wail or blow of some steam or just plain bellow is just that: my failure. It's my job to get more support to deal with my own feelings around the intense moments around here. It's not her job to be quiet. She's not a church mouse; she's a baby. And at one point she was wailing so loud with her mouth so wide open I thought I could see China, a small part of me was cheering her on: "Go Sadie, scream it out. Start early. Do whatever you need to do. Don't let anyone's discomfort with your process stop you from going bold and balls out and just letting it all out. You are definitely my daughter and this is healthy and adaptive."

Someone please remind me of this down nthe road when I can only hear the voice that says: "Christie, you failed. You fucked up your daughter and ruined every second of her life. There is nothing to do now except give up, accept the greatest defeat of your life, and never ever forgive yourself."

A Week of Firsts

You can see from the pictures that Sadie was not in love with bath time. We can't just dunk her in the baby tub until her umbilical cord falls off, so we decided to do a sponge bath on our bed. It was our first time too so we were going a little too slow for Sadie's taste. I think she is on the fence still about whether she will forgive us for taking so long and for allowing the water to cool far beyond her pleasure level. She sure does look cute all dressed up like a pink Jedi, though!

We also had our first spin in the baby stroller, which was glorious on a perfect July morning. This was our first outing-- Sadie accompanied mommy to a much needed therapy appointment and then we strolled a little bit in Millenium Park. The morning was flawless: little humidity, sunshine, cool breezes, darling baby and shutterbug husband. I only wish I was up for a longer walk that morning. Damn that major abdominal surgery getting in my way!

Sadie, our captivating newborn, sleeps about 18 hours a day. I always assumed that was an exaggeration, but it's not. When she sleeps for long stretches I miss her and want to wake her up to play. I don't because that is insane behavior, but when she wakes up and is ready to nurse and get busy looking cute and farting, I am so excited.

Today is a big day for us as well. We have a lactation consultant coming over to observe me and Sadie doing our breastfeeding gig. I am slightly obsessed with doing it right, mostly because I want it to stop hurting when she latches on, but also to be sure that she is getting what she needs. Honestly, I am just winging it right now and I decided that if there is such a thing as a person who comes to your house to help us get this process to a place of comfort and peace of mind, then why not? I am just sitting around breast feeding anyway.

Tonight we are going to a small get together for a friend's birthday. I have learned how to use the sling, so our plan is to go with Sadie in the sling and let people admire her from afar. I am not ready to pass her around yet, but I am willing to show up and practice my new dual role as mommy and party reveler! The party starts at 8:30 p.m., which in my former life would be way too late, is now perfect. Sadie konks out from about 7-10 every night and then wakes up to feed and hang out until about 1, when she goes down for good. We'll see how it goes, but I am optimistic and grateful that the hostess has kids as do many of the guests, so it will be a friendly crowd.

La Familia Ellis

We did it. Miss Sadie is now home and settling into life with her two adoring parents who are unabashedly in love with her. She's on to us and she knows that we would do anything for her. I expect to start seeing messages in her diapers that say, "buy me a Mini Cooper," at which point, Jeff and I will pack the car and head straight to the dealership. This child shall want for nothing is our philosophy and it's working for all of us right now, though I can imagine a time down the road when we may have to tweak that a bit in order to raise a functioning and healthy member of society.

I never thought there would be any sweeter music to my ears than Lyle Lovetts, I Love Everybody album, but there is. As I sit here right now typing this entry at 9:13 p.m. on Friday, July 31, 2009, I can attest that the sound of my daughter farting every 30 seconds is as close to aural nirvana as I have ever been. She's been farting like a drunk who just binged at Taco Bell for about 3 minutes and it's starting to stink in here. The delight of my little swaddled bundle of flatulence is something that I have no words for. Jeff has gone to the drug store to fetch a refill of my pain meds along with some meds for my own GI tract issues. I tried to be a hero today and went from 7:45 a.m. until 5:45 p.m. before taking my pain meds. What the hell is the virtue in that? I guess I wanted to be sure I wasn't addicted to Norco or that I wasn't just indulging in medication. It was not a prudent move, because the reason I am on those drugs is because I had major abdominal surgery only 8 days ago and I am no spring chicken. By about 5:00 p.m. tonighht I was slipping into despair about the physical pain: the incision, my uterus, my aching nipples, my hemorrhoids. It's a lot to deal with while also caring for a totally helpless 8 lb baby who can also scream so loud it almost bursts my inner ear. So, off Jeff went to be sure we are stocked up for the next week and for that, I am immensely grateful.

We've had a great week so far at home. The highlights include getting to know more about Sadie and her needs and her budding personality, as well as the sheer pleasure of just being in her company and being her mom and dad. We've also had a loving stream of visitors, each who has been a pipeline to the world beyond our four walls, bringing in love and support so we can heal and get to know our daughter. Our freezer and refrigerator are both full to bursting at this point with the most thoughtful and generous of dishes, including a kugal, a killer apple pie, and some lentil soup that is savory enough to serve royalty.

Happily, we are also getting infinitely more sleep than we imagined we were allowed as parents of a newborn. She's an awesome sleeper, going for 3 and 4-hour stretches, which is a dream. We have some good teamwork going so we aren't running too ragged yet.

There are 100,000 more things to say, but it has to wait, because Jeff just home and suggested that our daughter's farts and the pungent smell in the room means we should change her diaper.

Milk of Momnesia

Yesterday was a big day in room 1396. Sadie hazed us like we were college freshmen trying to join a fraternity. She's earned her reputation as being "fiesty," an adjective that more than one nurse has applied to her. (And make no mistake, I take it as an affirmation every single time. I could not be more proud.) It all began innocently enough at 3:00 p.m. when I realized that my maternity shirt barely fit over my chest because my milk came in. Because I am in the haze of early motherhood this event is equivalent to winning the Pick-3 Lotto game. I have heard more stories from moms about milk not coming in or moms being traumatized by having to supplement weak flow with formula to know that I sincerely did get a huge gift when my breasts began to weep the white, calcium-rich nectar. I was literally doing the river dance in my room, scaring the baby and amusing my husband. I think the milk coming in was overwhelmingly joyful for three main reasons. First, so little of my labor went like I wanted it to, that I really just wanted the universe to give me a pass on the breastfeeding and allow me to have an easy time. I think of the milk coming in as payback for the whole C-section part of this process.

Second, I have had such a conflicted relationship with my breasts-- feeling self-conscious about their size and afraid of their significance in a misogynist society. I have hated on them and hidden them and misuderstood them for so long. In 1999 I did the Breast Cancer 3-Day walk to nourish more gratitude and compassion for my breasts, but still I had more moments of hate than love for my large breasts. So, having the milk come in that I will use (8 times a day MINIMUM) to feed my daughter feels like it may accomplish what 3 days of walking and fundraising could never do. These breasts give life. It's like a fuzzy picture that just came into focus. It's really a good development because there is no hiding these ladies. If I thought they were big during pregnancy, this is truly a whole new level. The bottom line is that I love them and they are doing such a good job. The proof of their power to give sustenance is that Miss Sadie gained 4 ounces yesterday. We got all kinds of props from the pediatrician for that. We are already looking back at my meltdown on Friday worrying that she wouldn't get enough to eat because she lost 7% of her birth weight. (Hospitals let them lose 10% before they take any action.) As I sit here right now, I am aware that my right hand is drenched and Jeff just came over to inform me that I am "leaking."

Leaking?

Holy dairy-ness, my body is leaking milk! It's totally prosaic and mothers have been doing this for as long as humans have had babies, but when it happens to you, it's like sci-fi or a miracle of Biblical proportions.

And, let's be honest. Everyone knows that breastfeeding is nature's way of taking the baby weight off the mom. I may be spouting off lots of Mother Earth thoughts and feelings, but I am also very vain and really really love the clothes I packed away over the winter as Miss Sadie grew in my belly. It's exciting to feel the body doing what it's supposed to do and one of those things is to have my daughter suck the fat out of my body so her body can grow. No gym for 6 weeks, but lots and lots of breastfeeding, which is more efficient and two of us win!

Enough about me, back to Sadie. She definitely liked the breast milk if her diapers are any indication. I think she may have overdone the first feeding because the subsequent explosive diarrhea and puking freaked her out so bad she was up from 1-4 and the nursery kicked her out because she could not be settled. Jeff and I are happy to be officially parents of a newborn who wants to sleep all day and eat and scream all night long. Like every parent before us, we wish we could figure out why she is crying and FIX it, both for her and for us. And, like every parent before us, we sometimes will be able to and sometimes will not. I have to get used to that crying because it's one of her precious few ways of communicating with us. So, just like my nipples need to toughen up so does my central nervous system, which threatens to crash when my baby cries. I almost can't wait for tonight to try again and see if we can swaddle better and soothe sooner.