Four Weeks

Dear Peeper:

Remember when I said that labor was "the hardest, the most intense, the most incredible and the most surreal thing I've ever experienced?"

What I think I may have meant to say is that labor was the beginning of the hardest, the most intense, the most incredible and the most surreal thing I've ever experienced.

(Note: Labor still wins for "most painful." No doubt.)

After four weeks, I still look at you and can't believe that you are real, and that you are ours.

About 99.5% of the time, I think, "Oh my God. We have a baby. And we get to keep her."

The other 0.5% of the time, I think "Oh my God. We have a baby. And she won't leave."

Of course, everyone knows that each phase of parenting comes with its own challenges and rewards, and I thought I had an idea what some of them might be in the early weeks.

(Sleep deprivation vs. Baby! Our Baby!)

But, already, there have been so many of both that I never anticipated.

The unexected challenges, of course, started when you decided to be born four weeks early, and many are directly related to your prematurity - low birth weight, hinky lab tests, jaundice, and feeding difficulties (Oh yeah. That gets its own special section.) as well as non-medical things, like our basic lack of preparedness for bringing a baby home, having a room full of clothes but none that fit, and the complete obliteration of all our existing plans for the month of November.

The prematurity-related health concerns alone have resulted in a longer hospital stay, extra visits to the pediatrician, an all-day trip to the Children's Hospital for more testing, and a whole lot of added stress and worry.

And then, there's your heart defect. We know that the odds are greatly in favor of it just going away, but it's still something that worries us and it's certainly something that's complicated our lives - with weekly visits to the cardiologist in CapitalCity (an hour away) and medications every four to eight hours.

And the breastfeeding. Or should I say "breastfeeding," with big ol' finger quotes.

Of all the expectations I had, and all the things I looked forward to doing with you, this was probably the biggest and the most important, so for it to have turned out to be so difficult has been incredibly frustrating for me.

I know that you just weren't ready, when you were born, to work that hard for your food, but the longer it goes on, the more I worry about how much of it is your readiness and how much is nipple confusion and whether you'll ever make the transition to actually nursing.

I wonder if I made a mistake by allowing the doctor to talk me into giving you bottles in the hospital. Should I have insisted on cup feeding or syringe feeding, or something else that I really wasn't aware of at the time?

Actually, you had a great nursing day yesterday - starting Saturday night, to be exact - but today you're back to your old tricks.

So, I'm trying very hard to be encouraged by yesterday and consider it a big step forward, but it's really easy to be discouraged and see today as a step back.

Of course a big part of the frustration is just that I want you to nurse, and you're not. Period. In and of itself.

And, it's damn hard to not take it personally.

But, also, it just makes everything so much more complicated. Feeding you involves giving you an opportunity to nurse, then when you don't, handing you off (usually) to Mommy for a bottle, while I pump. Every two to three hours.

And the pumping. I'm living my life in three hour cycles, making sure I'm home, or have the pump in the car with me, because if I don't, I will be miserable.

Oh, but I already am miserable, actually. Any engorgement-related tenderness is just the icing on the booby-pain cake. My nipples are really the stars of that show.

Last week, I got a tentative diagnosis of thrush, and I'm now three days into a fourteen-day course of Diflucan, so I'm hoping to get some relief there, soon, and we'll get your little mouth checked for it when we go to the doctor tomorrow.

But, enough of the Negative-Nelly talk. I said that there have been unexpected challenges and rewards.

So, on to the good stuff . . . .

I still can't get over how amazing it is just to look at you, and to hold you, and to kiss your little head.

For as long as I can remember I've been all about the babies, and have just had to get my hands on any one that was around.

But no matter who they were - even my own nieces and nephews - as I held them, there was always a longing for more - for one of my own.

And now, here you are. And, as much as I looked forward to that and anticipated it, I still can't wrap my head around the reality.

I had no idea of the pride I would feel when total strangers stop us public and go on and on about how beautiful you are, or how sweet - or how tiny.

I can't imagine how proud I will be someday when you actually do things!

And, then, when they ask us whose you are, and to hear your Mommy say, "She's ours."

Oh.

I wish there were a punctuation mark or an emoticon to express the love and the pride that I hear in her voice when she says that.

I know I said this a couple of weeks ago, but still, one of the best parts of this all is watching how happy you've made your Mommy and seeing how much she loves you, and hearing how she talks to you - and about you.

You can get a bit of a hint of it looking at the photos of the two of you. There's no doubt that this is a woman who is in love.

And so am I.

Challenges, concerns, issues, difficulties, problems (whatever you want to call them) and all.

I am absolutely in love with you, and with her, and I am more so every day.


love,
Mama