Growth Spurts

Growth spurts are good. They are a necessary part of, well, growing. Unfortunately, they can have some (temporary) side effects... As near as I can tell, Nathan has had 2-3 major ones so far, and they are NOT a fun time for any of us. The endless cycle of fuss > eat > fuss > change diaper > fuss > eat > fuss > repeat ALL DAY LONG is exhausting. Add to that his new "skill" of fighting sleep and you have a recipe for one cranky baby and one very frazzled and frustrated mama.

Of course, these days always seem to occur when Paul is on shift and/or otherwise occupied :-/  We had one such day a couple weeks ago. Paul was attending a weekend-long conference and was gone from early morning until very late at night two days in a row. I ended up calling him around 10:45 p.m. that Saturday, crying, and begged him to please come home ASAP. He got home around 11:30 to find me rocking in the glider, crying, and nursing a screaming baby for the third time in three hours. Thankfully he sent me to bed and took over trying to get Nathan calmed down enough to sleep. One hour and a 1 oz bottle of formula supplement later, he succeeded.

Yesterday was another rough one. My grandma and uncle had been here over the weekend to meet the newest member of the family. Overall, it had been a good visit and Grandma got in lots of snuggle time with her great-grandson. Unfortunately, it had also been a very stimulatory weekend (we all went to church for the first time on Sunday). By the time they left Monday morning, Nathan was already over-stimulated and in no mood to nap. Cue the growth spurt cycle and we soon descended into meltdown mode. Only this time, we added in impressive amounts of spit-up after every feeding. By late afternoon, Nathan was on his third outfit of the day. I was still more or less in pajamas, but with several layers of spit-up (including down my cleavage and in my hair!). I had also changed a massive blowout diaper (as in, up his side all the way to his armpit!) and been peed upon.

Nathan was very fussy, having refused to nap for longer than 20 minutes all day. I even loaded him into his stroller (taking advantage of the random "heat wave") and went for a long-ish walk around the neighborhood. His eyes were WIDE open the entire time. Finally, around 6:30 p.m., out of sheer desperation, I stuck him in his carseat and went for a drive. I didn't really need to make that deposit at the drive-thru ATM last night, but it was the only valid errand I could come up with that got us out of the house but allowed us to stay in the car (it was raining cats and dogs by that point). There was also a Starbucks with a drive-thru right across the street from the bank...

After 45 minutes in the car, the little booger was still not asleep (he usually goes out like a light as soon as you turn the key) and I had come to the realization that I was not going to be allowed to eat dinner, let alone prepare anything for it. So we drove a good 10 miles out of the way to go through the drive-thru at Culver's (screw healthy-eating for one night - I needed a cheeseburger and fries STAT). Every time we stopped (at a light, in the drive-thru line, etc) he fussed. I ate my fries in the car on the way home. Still not asleep. He started fussing again as soon as we got in the door, so I changed and fed him, and stuck him in his crib to fuss some more while I shoveled my (now cold) cheeseburger. Usually we try to put him down for the night between 9:30-10:00, but by 9:00 I was starting to unravel. I put him in his pajamas, prepared a bottle that I had pumped earlier, and fed him in the nursery with the lights on low to help minimize stimulation. By 9:45 he was in his crib, not sleeping but at least not fussing. By 10:45, he was finally asleep and actually had a pretty decent night, only waking up twice to eat. Victory!

Days like yesterday are hard, but every time we survive one I feel my confidence increasing a bit more. Yes, it sucked that Paul was once again on shift. And yes, I was a not-so-hot mess by the time it was over. But we survived. This doesn't happen every day, and I keep reminding myself that this too shall pass. He's already growing and changing so much. The "newborn" phase is drawing to a close, and as difficult as it can be at times, I want to enjoy what is left of it while I can. And hopefully, when we go for his 1 month check-up on Friday, we will get some good news about his weight gain over these past couple of weeks!

Happy Valentine's Day!

I said I wouldn't buy any single-occasion newborn size outfits... And then this little onesie jumped into ny cart at Target the other day... I caved. And I don't regret it :)

3 Weeks Old!

Nathan is 3 weeks old today. In some ways, it seems like it was just yesterday that I was in labor. In other ways, it seems like he's been a part of our little family for much longer than that. Mostly though, I'm just horrified that I only have 9 weeks of maternity leave left :(  I got my paperwork from HR this week and my official "back to work" date is April 15. I'm still not sure what I want to do with my schedule once I go back (or what my boss will agree to let me do!), but that's a debate for another post.

For now, I refuse to think about work. Instead, I've been planning a couple of trips we are going to take before my leave is over. The beginning of March, we're going back to my hometown to visit extended family and friends. Then in April, we are going to road trip to Williamsburg, VA and meet up with my parents. Paul and I did a trip out there a couple years ago and fell in love with the historic triangle (Jamestown, Williamsburg, and Yorktown). We got a bonus week for renewing our membership with our timeshare exchange company, so we're using it for this trip. I'm so excited for our first official family vacation!

Now that I've gone off on that tangent... As I was saying, Nathan is 3 weeks old today and he is changing every day. Some updates:

• We don't have an official update on his weight (his next appointment isn't until the 22nd) but Paul is convinced that he is at least back to his birth weight. He laid him down on our bathroom scale in just his diaper the other day and it read 7 lb 4 oz. It probably isn't the most accurate reading, but I'm hoping it's close! We've been doing some supplementing with formula, but he honestly doesn't take much of it and usually ends up spitting it back up anyway. Hopefully that means he's getting enough from me now and is gaining weight!
• He is definitely longer. He's now outgrown 2 of his newborn sleeper outfits in terms of length, which makes me kind of sad :(  Soon we'll be putting him in the 0-3 month stuff!
• He is becoming more and more alert during the day, which is fun. Sometimes he just sits and stares around with his big eyes. I'm pretty sure he's focusing on us, at least some of the time. I also think I've started to see him track us with his eyes when we pass through his line of vision. He definitely startles now, which is kind of funny to watch. I feel like wants to smile, and might even be getting closer to it. I can't wait!
• I wouldn't go so far as to say that we are on a schedule yet. But there are definitely some patterns emerging. He'll have 2-3 feedings in a row during the day that are only a couple hours apart, then he'll nap for 2-3 hours before the next round. In the evenings, we get him into jammies and fed somewhere around 9:00 p.m. Once in a while he goes down right away and stays asleep, but usually he starts fussing (wet diaper) and wants to eat again in an hour. And sometimes we go through a third round of that before he is finally settles down to sleep. Once he goes to sleep though, he often sleeps 5 or more hours in a row at night, which is marvelous! Of course, if he's having a growth spurt, then all bets are off and we do nothing except feed and change diapers around the clock :)
• He's been sleeping in his nursery since his second night at home, but last night was the first time he slept the whole night in his crib instead of the little rock 'n play thing. We finally figured out that he doesn't want to be swaddled anymore, but he still likes feeling cozy. So we put him in one of those wearable swaddle sacks and just left his arms out so he can wave them around whenever he wants.
• He has now met 2 of his great-grandparents (Paul's Grandma P and my Papa) and will hopefully be meeting a third this weekend when my Grandma comes to visit. And if everything goes according to plan, he will meet his great-great-grandmother in March when we head back to my hometown. How crazy is that?

That's pretty much it for updates on him. I'm still working on the next (maybe final?) chapter of his birth story, so will try to get that up later this week. I also have a couple other posts rolling around my brain. But for now, I'll close with a few of my favorite pictures from these first 3 weeks. They're all off my phone camera, so the quality isn't superb, but you get the idea:

Yum, yum, yum... I love sucking on my fist (and anything else I can put in my mouth!).

Just hanging out - starting at the twinkle lights on my jungle mat!

Angry little man! 

[This is one of the outfits he has now outgrown - sad!]

Milk drunk & passed out.

 3 weeks old today!

Nathan's Birth - Part Four

***The next chapter in the story of the birth of Nathan***

January 21, 2013 - 9:30 a.m.

Once we decided to move ahead with the epidural, it was suddenly all I could think about. Our nurse for the day shift (Amy) informed me that Anesthesiology had been paged and they would be there as soon as they could, but that it might take 20 minutes or so. In retrospect, I realize that is not a lengthy amount of time. But in the moment, I was convinced I would never make it that long. My contractions were coming every 1-2 minutes and I had rated myself at a 7-8 on their pain scale. Paul was doing everything he could to get me to focus and breathe through them, but I was kind of a mess. Thankfully, it did not end up taking them the full 20 minutes. The anesthesiologist arrived and quickly began setting up for the procedure. Paul had to leave the room since it was going to become a sterile field temporarily. I was so distracted by the pain that I wasn't even upset or nervous about it. 

After he was gone, Amy took over as my contraction support while the anesthesiologist got me prepped and explained the procedure. I remember almost nothing that she said, but I did manage to express my concerns about my adhesive allergy. Typically they use a type of spray adhesive and also apply a large amount of Tegaderm to cover the site and keep everything securely in place. I hadn't had any issues thus far with the paper tape on my IV, but my allergy sometimes takes a day or so to manifest itself after I've been exposed. With everything else going on, I really just wanted to minimize the amount of exposure. The anesthesiologist was very understanding and willing to work with me, which was great. She agreed to use the smallest pieces of Tegaderm available and only apply the bare minimum amount. She also opted to forgo the spray adhesive altogether.

Adhesive issues aside, I don't really remember much else about the procedure. I remember them sitting me up on the edge of the bed and feeling a slight sting when something (a local anesthetic I think?) was injected. The hardest part of it all was trying to stay still while being rocked with massive contractions. They had to do all the tricky parts in between contractions, which was difficult since I was having sometimes 2 or 3 in a row with no break. I do remember Amy standing in front to brace me while I squeezed the daylights out of her arms. Once the tubing was in place, the anesthesiologist administered a test dose and asked me to describe what I felt. Within a few seconds, I started to feel warm and kind of tingly. This was apparently a good thing and she went ahead and administered a larger bolus dose. The anesthesiologist explained that it would last me the first 60-90 minutes, after which I would continue to receive smaller doses through an IV drip. She also gave me a button I could push to give myself an extra "booster" dose if needed. It was programmed to allow no more than one extra booster every 15 minutes. If I was having pain higher than a 2 and the boosters weren't helping, then I was to ask them to page her to come back and adjust my dosing.

As she was explaining all of this, I had a few more contractions. I felt each one less and less as the warm, tingling sensation continued to spread down my legs into my feet and up into my lower back. It was..... amazing. It wasn't even so much the absence of pain that made it so amazing (although I certainly didn't mind that!). It was more that I hadn't realized just how incredibly tense I was, but with the epidural I suddenly felt my entire body relaxing. I felt my breathing slow back down and become more regular. I had heard some people describe feeling out of it or drugged and confused, but I was fortunate to not have any of that. I did feel warm and sort of "fuzzy", but in a cozy sort of way - nothing weird or scary. I could still feel the pressure of the contractions, but almost no pain. The nurse also got me hooked up to a urinary catheter, so that took care of any bathroom needs I might otherwise have had.

As much as I had wanted to avoid the whole epidural thing, I don't regret getting one in the end. I think it was the right decision for us given the circumstances. I made it as far as I could into active labor, which was my goal. I might have been able to keep going if I hadn't gotten stalled at 6.5 cm with no indication as to how much longer things would last. It might also have been different if I were having 100% natural contractions rather than pitocin-induced, but I have nothing to compare to so it's hard to say. If we are lucky enough to have a "next time" it might be completely different. I might go into labor on my own. I might be able to do more walking, which definitely helped me progress. The bottom line is, you just never know how things will go for you. So all I can say is, I'm really glad that we went into this whole thing with an open mind. It is one thing to have preferences, but the best advice I can give to others is to understand and be open to various possibilities. And give yourself permission to change your mind in the moment, if and when it becomes necessary!

January 21, 2013 - 11:30 a.m.

Epidural in place, I was a totally different person! I labored for a couple more hours. And by "labored" I mean that I lounged in the bed, which no longer felt uncomfortable since I now had limited feeling in my lower body :)  By that point, Paul's parents and sister and my friend B had arrived at the hospital. They took turns coming in to say hi and check on us. I had Paul put in a different DVD of Friends and took up munching on ice chips. I don't know if it was just the dry air in the hospital or a side effect of the epidural, but I was thirsty. I had to lay on my side and both my arms were now occupied with IV tubing and a blood pressure cuff, so holding a cup full of ice was getting to be a little tricky. Paul, my mom, and B all took turns feeding me ice chips. That is what spouses/family/best friends are for, right? 

We had a couple of minor interruptions from the nurses - the baby's heart rate sometimes dipped when I was laying on one side or the other for too long, so they would come in and have me flip over while adjusting the monitors to make sure everything was okay. The baby also didn't really like it when I had 3 or more contractions in a row with no break. They said it was probably nothing to worry about, but they were going to keep an eye on things just in case. Aside from that, I found myself getting very, very sleepy. The OB had said to try napping a bit if I could, so a little before noon, I decided it was time to do just that. Everyone retreated to the waiting room except Paul, who was also planning to lay down for a bit. For the first time since arriving at the hospital, I felt peaceful and calm... and I actually did fall asleep for a bit!

Nathan's Birth - Part Three

***The on-going story of Nathan's birth***

January 21, 2013 - 6:30 a.m.

After another hour or so of pacing the halls, Autumn took us back to the room so that one of the attending physicians could check me and determine whether or not another attempt should be made to break my water. The on-call attending was not my primary OB, but I had seen her a few times in the clinic over the duration of my pregnancy and really liked her. She promised to make the exam as quick and painless as possible. Fortunately, my walking had paid off this time and she announced I was 5 cm! I rated my pain at a 4 and the contractions were coming pretty regularly every 2-3 minutes or so. She asked if I wanted an epidural yet and I said no. She then said it was time to try breaking my water again, but assured me it would be quick and easy this time. The added dilation had allowed my cervix to move into position and she could easily grasp the membranes. I was still a bit nervous after the last two attempts, but it was over almost before I knew what was happening. As soon as she snagged the hole, a TON of fluid came rushing out. The nurse got me cleaned up a bit and gave me a pair of mesh underwear and a pad to wear from then on in case more fluid came out. It was a good thing she did too because every time I moved or stood, more fluid would run down my leg. I felt like I was peeing uncontrollably all over myself :)

The OB explained that things might start to pick up even more now that my bag was broken. She thought that if I kept progressing at the same rate, I might be ready to push by lunch time. We asked if we should call our families yet and she said yes (once they were ready to go, it would take them at least an hour if not longer to get downtown, depending on traffic). Paul started calling and texting our parents and the godparents (whom we had invited to come to the hospital as well). His phone was acting up a bit, so I offered to call my mom when he didn't get a response right away from her or my dad. I was still able to speak on the phone, although I had to pause and breathe through the contractions as they came. Mom said they would be on their way shortly.

Once everyone had been notified, I told Paul I wanted to try walking some more. It seemed to be helping me progress, so I wanted to keep it up as much as possible. Unfortunately, I was still leaking fluid. The mesh-undies-and-pad combo were NOT helping much. Every step I took across the room left another puddle on the floor. Paul was running around throwing absorbent bed pads, towels, and whatever else he could find on the floor to keep us from slipping in it. It was actually quite comical. Eventually, we gave up on trying to go for a walk right then and returned to laboring on the ball. Around that time, a midwife stopped by to check on us and offer advice/assistance. She watched me through a couple of contractions and seemed impressed that I was doing so well on the pitocin with no painkillers. She gave me a few suggestions for positions to try, and demonstrated a couple of counter-pressure techniques that Paul could use on me. I vaguely remembered some of them from the class we took, but it is surprising how fuzzy those details become when you are in the throes of it all :)

January 21, 2013 - 7:15 a.m.

The OB who broke my water was getting ready to go off-shift, so she stopped by one last time to check on me and offer encouragement. I was 6.5 cm - I had progressed another 1.5 cm in 45 minutes! She asked again if I wanted anything for the pain. The contractions were definitely getting stronger, but I was so encouraged by the swift progress that I wanted to keep going. She assured me I was doing great and to keep it up.

January 21, 2013 - 8:00 a.m.

My parents arrived at the hospital and called back to the room to see if I wanted them to stop by. I told Paul that was fine, so they came on back. I wasn't really able to talk with them much. The contractions were coming every 1-2 minutes, and in some cases, were coming back-to-back with no break in between. It was taking all of my focus and concentration to get through them. Paul was wonderful through it all. In addition to helping me sit, stand, squat, and/or sway, he kept talking to me in a soothing voice and reminding me to breathe. He also watched the monitor each time and told me when the peak was over and the contraction was starting to recede. 

January 21, 2013 - 8:45 a.m.

The day shift OB attending, the one who would likely be delivering my baby, came in after shift-change to check on me and see if there had been any progress. Her name was Dr. L and I had seen her once or twice in the clinic as well. It had been a pretty intense hour and a half since my last check, so I was expecting to hear more good news about my progress. I was starting to wonder if I could keep it up much longer without drugs, but I figured I had to be getting closer. My parents stepped out so she could do the exam. Unfortunately, the news was not encouraging. I was still at 6.5 cm. I had just endured an hour and a half of very strong, very frequent contractions, and nothing had changed. That was pretty much when I lost it. I think I actually started crying. Needless to say, that did nothing to help me through the contractions and I commenced writhing about the bed in pain and struggling to get my breathing under control. 

Dr. L fixed a compassionate but firm gaze on me and asked again whether I wanted to consider anything for the pain. She carefully explained that there was no way for her to tell me how much longer I would need to labor. I might start progressing again soon, or it might be several more hours. She said that it was important for me to find a way to "chill out" for a couple of reasons: 1) I was becoming so tense during the contractions that it was possible my own body was working against itself and preventing further dilation as a result. In order to keep dilating, I needed to be able to relax a little; and 2) She was convinced that the baby was on the larger side (8-9 pounds), so I was going to need my strength in order to push. She didn't want me completely exhausting myself so that I had nothing left over when it came time. She recommended that I consider either an epidural or some kind of IV painkiller. She was very clear that she was not pressuring me and that the decision was totally mine to make. Nevertheless, she wanted me to understand the impact either way so that we could make an informed choice about how to proceed.

I looked at Paul and tearfully admitted that I wasn't sure I could keep going in that state. I was no longer in control of my contractions - they were controlling me. There was no way to know if or when I would progress again. And on top of it all, hearing that there had been no progress in the previous 90 minutes had the effect of pulling the rung out from under me. I felt utterly defeated and discouraged. I was slightly (okay - maybe a lot) disappointed. But mostly I was just exhausted. I had been in labor for 9 hours. I had gotten no sleep and had had nothing to eat. Despite the promising start to it all, there wasn't much of a light at the end of the tunnel. I vaguely overhead Dr. L mention something about being able to take a nap if I got the epidural and that pretty much sold me on it. All I wanted to do was sleep and not be tortured anymore.

I weakly muttered my consent and Paul nodded at the doctor in confirmation. I think he could tell I had reached the end of my rope. I started crying even more; he hugged me and assured me that I was doing great and that it wasn't the end of the world for me to get the drugs. My parents, who had stepped out during the exam, came back in to get their belongings and relocate to the waiting room. In my pain-induced state, I misunderstood their presence and tried to say something along the lines of "you'll have to leave because they won't even let Paul stay in here for the epidural." But the contractions were coming one after another at that point, so all I managed to say was "Get out!" Paul says it was my only truly ugly moment during the entire labor process. My parents, however, were not offended in the least and assured me they had a good laugh about it afterwards :)

RIP Macy-Dog :(

Today is a very sad day for us. We had to say goodbye to our sweet dog Macy :(  Everything happened so fast that I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. Last Tuesday, Macy wouldn't eat her dinner. This was nothing new - she's a picky eater by nature and sometimes just refuses to eat for whatever reason. Wednesday she was acting rather aloof and anti-social. But again, she does this from time to time. Wednesday afternoon, Paul got ready to take her for a walk. Usually, when you pick up her harness and leash, she starts to dance around and get excited. This time when he picked them up, she turned away and walked back inside. This is when we got really worried and Paul called the vet to see about getting her in for a check-up. They had an opening that evening, so he took her in while I stayed home with Nathan. They examined her, ran some bloodwork, and did x-rays. The diagnosis: immune mediated hemolytic anemia. Basically, her immune system randomly started attacking and destroying her red blood cells, resulting in a whole slew of problems. It is an acute onset disease, and in dogs, they aren't really sure what causes it. It literally came out of nowhere.

We left Macy at the animal hospital that night to begin treatment. They put her on an IV for fluids and started her on high-dose steroids in addition to antibiotics and a stomach acid reducer. On Thursday the vet called to say she appeared to be responding well and was starting to perk up. On Friday, they said she was doing even better and was ready to come home. She would need to go on long-term steroids for a few months to ensure a full remission. We brought her home, along with a bag full of meds. She seemed to be feeling better initially, but still didn't have much of an appetite and spent most of the evening and night downstairs or in the garage. Saturday we got her to take her meds in the morning and then were gone all day taking Nathan to the pediatrician and to meet one of his great-grandparents. Saturday night, she took her meds but still wouldn't eat or leave the garage to come inside.

Yesterday (Sunday) was Paul's first day back on shift - and my first full 24-hour shift alone with Nathan. I managed to get Macy to take her meds in the morning, but she still wouldn't eat. Then last night, she refused to even take her meds (which we usually bury in a spoonful of peanut butter - one of her favorite treats). She was outside, sitting under her favorite tree in the side yard, basking in the snow (she's a Siberian Husky). When I called her to come into the garage, she only made it as far as the dog house that is attached to the garage, where she laid down and started to cry back at me. Every time I tried to reach inside the opening and help her through, she turned away and whined. That was the point at which I knew how this was going to end. I called Paul, crying, a little after 9:00 p.m. I'd just spent an exhausting hour and a half getting Nathan fed, changed, fed again, and put to bed. And I had to call him at work and tell him I thought it was time.

Our vet clinic is not a 24/7 operation, so being that it was a Sunday night, the only option would have been to take Macy to an animal emergency hospital in another town. My father-in-law had been on stand-by all day in case it came to that. But after talking with Paul, neither of us felt good about that option. We knew the outcome wasn't going to be good, and we didn't want to have her in a strange clinic with people we didn't know doing the procedure on a night when Paul was on shift. So we decided to wait until this morning when Paul would be home and our regular vet would be available. He got home around 8:00 and took her to the clinic where they confirmed that she was crashing. The only "treatment" option would have been to transfuse her, which might have stabilized her but not guaranteed that she would start responding to treatment. Paul came back to get me and our other dog, Gibbs. We dropped Nathan off to stay with Grandpa for an hour or so until we got back. They gave us a room to sit with Macy and say our goodbyes. The procedure took less than 5 minutes and she was gone. We wrapped her in an old red fleecy blanket and Paul loaded her into his truck to take back to his parents farm for burial.

I'm glad that she is not in pain anymore, but I'm still in shock that this happened. Two weeks ago, I was giving birth to Nathan in the hospital and Macy was the same happy, healthy, frisky dog we have always known her to be. I'm heartbroken that she is gone, and I'm especially sad for Paul since she was "his" dog. I am, however, very glad that we have our sweet little boy to distract us. And I'm glad that Macy and Nathan got to "meet" before she was gone. In tribute to Macy, I will close with a few pictures:

 Big yawn!

 Having a "conference" with the cats...

 Doing the annual Cancer Survivors' Celebration & Walk in honor of my Nana.

 She loved to play in, and eat, the snow :)

 Licking out the empty peanut butter jar...

 The first day we met Macy and decided to take her home.

 Meeting her "baby brother" Gibbs for the first time.

 Pretty girl after a trip to the groomer's.

 Frolicking in the snow!

 On her first road trip with us to Wisconsin for 4th of July 2009.

 Silly girl liked to sleep upside down.

 Curled up on her pillow.

 Her favorite spot in the yard - under the apple tree.

 Exploring in the Blue Ridge mountains.

 

"Helping" my mom unwrap birthday presents.

Hiking in the Appalachian mountains with Paul and my dad.

Breastfeeding...

I read the books, I went to the class, I've gotten lots of advice from well-meaning friends and relatives who have prior experience... But until you actually start breastfeeding, it's hard to know what will and will not work for you and your baby. And even then, things can change. I'm learning that much like labor and delivery, the best way to approach breastfeeding is to be as open-minded and flexible as possible. At least, that's what I'm trying to teach myself...

Yesterday was kind of a meltdown day for me. We took Nathan in for a follow-up weight check at the pediatrician's. His first appointment was when he was 5 days old and he weighed the same then as when he had been discharged from the hospital: 6 lbs 12 oz. He had about a 7% weight loss from birth, which was still considered to be within the "normal" range. They weren't worried that he hadn't regained his birth weight yet, but they wanted us to bring him back a week later for a re-check. Both Paul and I were convinced he was gaining. I swear his cheeks look chubbier! But when we got him on the scale yesterday, he had only gained 1 oz :(

This is by no means cause for major alarm, however the pediatrician did come in to see him and wants us to start supplementing with formula to make sure he is getting enough to eat. I'm having a hard time not feeling like a failure because of this. I really had thought that things were going pretty well. I realize I'm still in a hyper-emotional hormone-charged state, so I'm trying not to let my mind run away with stories of how I'm starving my son and how my body is once again failing me (and now him). But watching Paul give him that first bottle of formula, and watching him appear to guzzle it like he hadn't eaten in hours... I broke down in the first truly ugly cry I've had since he was born.

Today I'm doing a little better. I'm trying to focus on more logical thoughts. Yes, he needs to start gaining more weight. No, it isn't my "fault" that he isn't back to his birth weight yet - there could be a number of factors contributing to this. Yes, I've had some setbacks with breastfeeding (i.e. a cracked nipple that became too painful to nurse with) that may have temporarily impacted my supply so far. Nevertheless, I'm doing the best that I can and I'm slowly overcoming these issues. No, I'm not starving my son. Yes, we might need to add in some formula for a bit here and there. But there is nothing wrong with this - formula is not evil and having to supplement with it does not make me a failure. At the end of the day, I need to do what is best for my son. And I need to foster my own intuition about what is right and learn to trust my gut. I won't be able to do that if I'm wallowing in disappointment with myself.

In the past 13 days, I have nursed Nathan an average of 10 times a day, which comes out to approximately 130 feedings in his short life thus far. He averages 8-10 wet and 2-4 poopy diapers a day, which is well within normal expectations. He has his fussy moments but is not, in general, a fussy baby. He sleeps surprisingly well most nights, and is alert and content most of the day. Obviously, I'm doing something right. And compared to just a couple of weeks ago, I know way more than I did! The important thing is that I'm not giving up. I will continue to do this and it will get easier. I know this.