:(

I got the flu this weekend. Yuck. I guess it's been a while since I had the flu, because I really can't remember the last time I felt that awful. Thursday night and Friday were the worst, but Saturday wasn't too great either. Today is better...I'm not on tylenol, and yet I'm also not shivering and feeling cold in an 80 degree room. Progress.

Tom's parents took Eve on Friday for most the day and then overnight. Friday was supposed to be a great day for us--I was going to spend all my time embroidering, and Tom was going to play Xbox 360 (did I tell you he won a free xbox 360? I'm happy for him, but not so much for me, being an xbox widow is at least as bad as being a football widow...except there is really no end to it...it's there 24/7). Well, my head was killing me all day with or without the mild drugs that I can take, and without electricity, huddled in the basement where it's warm and sunlight not exactly spilling in through the windows, I got very little embroidery done, and didn't enjoy my day in the least. And Tom was worse off--at least I could sleep and feel I was doing all I really wanted to. Tom was bored and xboxless...and he doesn't like to read or do anything crafty, so he was totally bored until about 3 P.M. when the power came back.

Thursday night after it took just a bit longer than expected to get Eve to sleep, Tom and I fought about Eve and sleeping and our vastly differing parenting philosophies. I hate when that happens. Actually, it's been long enough since we fought about parenting philosophies in general that I was lulled into a false sense of security thinking maybe Tom had come to see things my way. We called a truce fairly quickly, but it just brings up all of my conflicting thoughts on how far to go with this...do I "submit" and let him take the reigns so our children can be neither seen nor heard? That's really too harsh...he loves his kids, but he thinks that it's my refusal to let Eve cry it out in her bed that has made her a poor sleeper, he thinks co-sleeping is designed by the devil (tongue in cheek) to prohibit parental intimacy and sleep (his, specifically), and thinks that if we just bottle fed, our children would have no preference between he and I, and either of us could take care of their needs at any time of day or night. I disagree (of course, right? That's why we fight), I don't think that bottle feeding would remove the children's preference for their mom when they need compassion and comfort, and if we kicked the kids out of our bed entirely, Tom might get more sleep, but I would be up a million times a night to feed or comfort, well, unless I could somehow render myself def so I could just leave them to cry themselves back to sleep. What it comes down to, is I feel that the way he wants to do things is entirely about his comfort and convenience, while my motivation is to do what is the very best for my children, even if it costs my comfort and is inconvenient.

Sigh. It's been a constant struggle since Eve came, and it would be so nice to be at peace together about this, but I don't see that anywhere on the horizon. If I do give in...how could I? But if I did, I would feel my children were being robbed of precious and irreplacable commodities, and I'm sure I'd have to resign myself to that each day, as I would also have to forgive Tom each day or stew in unrelenting bitterness toward him for harming my children.

Either way, I can see why Tom doesn't want more kids. I really do, but it would be nice to get past the time in their lives that seems to cause us the most strife and move on to older childhood where breastfeeding is in the distant past and sleeping in their own bed is a given. Plus, we'd never have to deal with the circumcision question again or imperfect births.

Like I said, we've called a truce. I don't even know if Tom has given this stuff another thought...but I can't stop. I never know if I'm doing the right thing. I know I'm doing what's best for my children, if I separate it from the fact that I don't know if I'm doing what's best for my marriage with their father, but I do know the relationships are deeply entwined. If I say I am in the wrong in my marriage, then I guess the question comes down to: What's worse for my children? My behavior toward their dad or taking away breastfeeding, responsiveness to their cries, and warmth and comfort in the middle of the dark and lonely night? I really, honestly don't know.

So...I think I might be making all this sound worse than it is...it's the conflict in my mind that is most bitter. Tom and I are doing fine, though there's always room for improvement.

And now that I'm feeling better, Peanut has the flu. Poor little guy. I guess it's good that I got it first so I know what he's going through. He was not himself last night, and now I know why. Today he's listless, but sleeping peacefully and cheerful as long as the tylenol controls his fever.

The End?

It's possible that I've told enough of the story that this could be my last Birth Story/Hospital Saga post. Wouldn't that be nice?

So, what didn't make it into the letter....

I was exhausted by about 9 P.M....which is when they kicked me out of the nursery the second time, when Peanut needed a break. whatever.

I couldn't sleep, of course. so I rested from about 10 to 11, when they told me I could come back. Tom was resting too, and when I asked him if he wanted to come, he politely declined.

In addition to telling me I wasn't allowed in when I got there, they gave me some other bad news. When I told them I'd like to come back soon--because when I talked to the pediatrician the second time that evening, he'd said it would probably be okay to feed Israel at Midnight--they said something like "Oh no. Dr. so and so said you definitely may not feed him tonight." I burst into tears and went back to my room. I hope I never have to see that silly on-call doc for an office visit at the pediatrician's office, as I'd have a hard time not giving her a piece of my mind.

I'm sure if I could have gotten my pediatrician's opinion on the matter at that time, that he would have given the green light, because when I'd talked to him a little before 8 that night, he said that Israel was doing surprisingly well (no surprise to me, but anyway) and that in these matters it's important that you look to the patient and proceed accordingly, and that he may be ready to be fed as early as midnight. The doctor on call probably just didn't take a look at the situation when she was last in--probably not long after the last time my ped. saw him, quite honestly--and just read the report on what had happened and made the same call my ped. had to begin with.

At the time, I was really happy to be laboring during the day time and to have the baby at a time of day that would allow a fairly normal night's sleep to follow. However, looking back, since Israel wasn't okay enough to be with me, I really wish I'd had him in the early morning like I'd had Eve--that way my Ped. would have been working and available to assess Israel's state more than 4 or 5 hours after his birth.

Anyway...the postpartum nurses were concerned for me coming back from the nursery crying hysterically, and Tom got pretty freaked out when I got back in. I've only just now considered that Tom might have thought something much worse was going on than rude nurses and bad decisions by on-call doctors. (I hate that about all the clinics I go to for care--I don't trust other doctors the way I trust my doctors. I detest having to ever rely on them for advice or decisions, because I can never be sure they are as invested in the situation as my own doctors, and I know nothing about their judgment in general.) Poor Tom, I wonder what went through his mind. Once I got out what had happened, between sobs, I just cried in his arms for a while. He was very sweet and understanding. I have such a wonderful husband.

I had been avoiding the pump and the need to pump until that point, as I'd been hoping to just get to breastfeed soon. However, I decided that just possibly pumping would help me. I could maybe get enough stimulation to produce some good hormones and maybe even some uterine contractions. I pumped for the first time ever with a double electric, and it wasn't as awful as I thought it would be, although I still feel hand pumps are superior. I got probably two teaspoons worth of colostrum in about 15 minutes.

I was sore from sitting up and didn't really want to keep pumping, and of course, I was still really tired. I was also really angry. I let bitterness creep in, and honestly, I think it might still be there in my heart. I need to take care of that and forgive those lousy nurses and the lousy on call doctor, and probably my own pediatrician as well...and anyone else I might hold responsible for the way things went. sigh. That realization just hit me. It's funny...I might still need to forgive my previous OB...and both the nurses who placed IVs in me....I bet if I gave it some time, I could think of even more. I'll have to take care of that today. It could take a while to go through the list.

So, looking back, I think the nurses kicked me out at 9 partly because I was so tired, and gave me a bogus time to return because they didn't expect me to be conscious until much later.

After pumping I took Demerol because it wasn't time for the next dose of Ibuprofen and I was hurting. I'm not sure if I could have fallen asleep then without the influence of Demerol, but Demerol certainly didn't give me a good night's sleep. I woke up at least 3 times between whenever I actually fell asleep and 6:30 A.M. when the Ped. finally came back. And each time, my mind raced with repetitions of the events following Israel's birth, and my fear that this forced separation would adversely effect our nursing relationship grew. I couldn't keep myself from being worried that all those struggles I'd read about in the La Leche League magazine would become my own struggles, but that I wouldn't be able to face them or conquer them. Tom, as wonderful as he is, is not the biggest breastfeeding proponent. I had visions of myself hysterical over trying to feed my baby and Tom saying off-handedly to simply give him formula and be done with it. I had such any easy time initiating breastfeeding with Eve that I don't know if I'm equipped to handle breastfeeding obstacles combined with the same--or even more pronounced--lack of support at home that I experienced with Eve. I prayed and prayed that God would still my fears and give me peace. And he would, and I would sleep, but each waking brought a renewal of those fears and a disruption of peace.

With a clear mind, a weight-gaining son, and the period of breastfeeding initiation behind us, I cannot say what exactly I expected to go wrong, but the possibilities seemed endless.

I want to mention here as well, that Tom has been much more supportive this time around, in all ways really, but specifically in regards to breastfeeding. We are both in such a better place spiritually and in our life and marriage, it's amazing the difference that makes.

I woke up when the Pediatrician came, just like he said at like 6:30. He said I could breastfeed and that Israel was doing great. He encouraged me to go down to the nursery as soon as possible.

It's a good thing I got at least some sleep the night before, because I tried for quite some time to wake Israel up, and he simply wouldn't...I got him to suck literally once. If I'd been a bit more tired, I'm sure I would have been hysterical, because this simply seemed to confirm that breastfeeding was going to be an uphill battle. Discouraged and uncomfortable in the nursery (even though the staff was different and much more friendly), and still tired enough, I left the nursery and my baby by choice for the first time. I went back to sleep, had breakfast, and then saw my OB before heading back down for what I just knew would be a painful and failing attempt to breastfeed Israel again at around 10:30.

Happily, my fears were unfounded, because this time he was waking up and hungry and ready to go. He latched on well and stayed on for about 12 minutes before falling asleep again. I'm sure I was grinning from ear to ear, because not only did this mean breastfeeding was not utterly doomed to failure, it also meant that we could take Israel to our room, and I wouldn't have to deal with the nursery staff anymore and I could hold him and breastfeed him all I wanted.

The rest of our hospital stay was fairly uneventful. Nursing continued to go well, although I rushed laying down to nurse with this lazy boy and ended up with one side blistered, cracked and bleeding because he wouldn't maintain a good latch in that position. I had to deal with that for a couple weeks.

My OB kept me in the hospital over concerns about elevated blood pressure, which looked significantly better once breastfeeding was initiated, so I'm sure it was all emotionally induced. Israel had to stay until 24 hours from his first feeding. We were discharged at 9:45 PM on the 16th--we had our 10th anniversary dinner in the hospital. Not quite what I'd have in mind for unforgettable, although it surely will be so.

Indeed, the end, although I still have some related posts regarding the call from the Hospital Director and my recent discussion with my OB.

The further adventures of Israel in the Nursery

If there was a way to change the font in the title there to make "Nursery" be in that halloween-y font, I'd be all over it. Come to think of it, there probably is, but I'm too lazy to spend that much time looking for something like that.

I really wanted to get this up yesterday, on International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Happy belated ITLAPD to ye anyway. ;)

So, due to what I felt was pretty awful treatment by the staff in the Nursery at the hospital, I wrote a letter. I'm usually a fairly...hmm, how shall I put this...I simply don't get real bent out of shape over things. However, I felt it was bad enough that something needed to be said. I got a call from the Director of the the Women and Children's care at the hospital yesterday in response to this letter. I'll tell you about that next time.

Dear Mr. Bosch,

I gave birth to my second child at the Harrison Medical Center in Silverdale, WA in the afternoon on August 14th, 2007. In my discharge papers, I received a card, signed by yourself, that states that “exceptional care” and “Service Excellence” are your priority at Harrison. I’m writing to give to you my thoughts on how well your hospital met my expectations.

I will begin by saying that the L&D nurse we had toward the end of my labor was truly excellent. Her name is Patti, and I was extremely pleased to have her be a part of my baby’s birth.

My baby needed extra care after birth because he did not begin to breathe on his own for around 5 minutes. Hospital policy required him to be transferred to the nursery. I did not get to hold my child until he was over an hour old.

It’s a well-documented fact that newborn babies and post-partum mothers fare better when they are not separated. At Harrison, knowledge of this fact is evident in the policies followed for healthy babies who need no special care or monitoring. I commend you and your staff for the general rooming-in policy you follow.

However, I’m deeply disappointed that the same policy is not followed for all babies at Harrison. By the time I reached the nursery, my son was merely being monitored, and did not need any artificial breathing support. It appeared to me that babies could be monitored from the in-room stations in which my child was initially cared for immediately after birth, leading me to believe that, at least in the case of my son, his presence in the nursery had more to do with the convenience of the neo-natal nurses than with his wellbeing. The very babies that could benefit most from close contact with their mother are denied that right. This doesn’t seem like baby-friendly care, let alone the best care.

I know that other hospitals in the area do all they can to keep mothers and babies together, even when the babies need extra care. Knowing that any baby with a truly serious condition is transferred to other area hospitals with NICUs, I would think with some extra effort to provide the “exceptional care” you promise, the need for a nursery at Harrison could be virtually eliminated.

Perhaps I would be less distressed by being physically separated from my son for the first 20 hours of his life had I found the nursery staff themselves and the nursery policies to be more mother/baby-friendly. Instead, I got the distinct impression that the nurses on duty the afternoon and evening of my son’s birth were more concerned with what they were doing than with who they were doing it for.

When I left the hospital, I took home a safe and healthy boy, so I assume the nurses were qualified and adept at the technical aspect of their jobs. However, they were completely lacking in compassion.

To begin with, I was only given about 40 minutes with my son before being told it was time for me to leave in order for them to give him an IV. We were given the impression that this would be a process that took an hour or so, however several hours later when my husband went to see his son with some visitors, he was denied entrance because they were still working on the IV. I am not a medical professional, but the IV placed during my labor took only a few minutes, why would it take several hours for my son? Additionally, the policy that parents not be allowed to be present when the IV is put in is unacceptable. Yes, it’s probably distressing to watch, but the baby does not belong to Harrison hospital, he belongs to his parents. That fact was completely ignored by the nurses on duty during my son’s first hours of life.

After finally being allowed back into the nursery after many hours and finding multiple poke-marks on my son, I was told to leave, again after less than an hour with my son. The nurses said he “needed a break” which is the silliest concept I’ve ever heard from the lips of someone who’s supposed to know about the needs of a newborn. My son needed to be skin to skin with me, since he wasn’t supposed to breastfeed, he needed to be held close to receive the benefits of Kangaroo care. But he wasn’t allowed to have me near him for any length of time.

I was told to come back in a few hours, specifically at 11:00 PM. When I arrived at that time, I was denied entrance because it was shift change and time for reports. Why should reports prohibit a mother from being with and caring for her baby? And why would I be told to return at the very time the nursery is “closed to visitors.” And when does a child’s mother count as a “visitor?”

The behavior of the nurses, and possibly the policies behind that behavior seemed cold and callous. If a mother is forced to be away from her newborn, she, not to mention the baby, deserves the utmost consideration and gentleness. It was devastating to me to not be able to initiate breastfeeding within the first hour of my baby’s life, a situation that the hospital staff had no control over. The inconsiderate behavior of the nurses and the policies that kept me physically separated from my child for nearly a full day added greatly to my distress during a vulnerable emotional time, causing me to withdraw from even family visitors and making simple tasks seem insurmountable.

Luckily, my baby is resilient, and I think we are well bonded despite our forced separation. Your facility implies you hold the mother/baby relationship in high regard. But this mother was only allowed to even be near her baby for a few hours out of the first day of his life, a situation his “condition” did not warrant. The responsibility for that rests in the hands of those who work and determine policy in the nursery. I did not find Harrison to be friendly in that regard.

I’m disappointed that though I can praise my Obstetrician, your L&D department, and even my post-partum nurses for providing excellent care and consideration, I cannot praise the nursery staff for the same thing. I take pride in Kitsap County and love to support local businesses and facilities. I am sad to say that I do not believe I can continue to do so with Harrison. If another child is in our family’s future, I will likely be traveling to Seattle or Jefferson County in order to give birth in a location where I know my and my baby’s needs will be given more consideration, and where I can expect true mother/baby friendliness even in the face of difficulties.

Sincerely,

me

more tears

I shook and cried for most of the post-birth events. I never had another contraction after the head came out. That is, until the next day when the after pains started, and those were pretty darn uncomfortable.

I had a very minor tear on my episiotomy scar, 3 stitches. Yay! Except, I also had a fairly major and very high labial tear. The doc didn't mention how many stitches, but I'm still feeling some pain from it, so I know it wasn't just a scratch.

At some point during labor, but before transition, I'd had a HEPLOCK placed. Aside from mary paying no attention to the fact that my doc fully supported shorter time periods on the EFM at more frequent intervals, this was the worst part of the labor for me, because for one, the nurse did it wrong, and two, they insisted I get on the bed and lay down. I want them to get better at their jobs so that next time around, I can be where ever I'm at and get that silly thing put in. I told the nurse who placed it, as did Kim and probably Ashia, that it simply had to be in my arm rather than my hand, becuase last time, it hurt so much to hold my hand in any position but nutral that it drove me nuts, who needs added irritation during labor? I guess this nurse didn't get it (big surprise) and so it was in my wrist. Again, it was like a torture device meant to make labor just a tad more painful. I had to be careful the whole labor to rest on my forearm on the left side rather than brace myself with my hand, otherwise, I'd get a nice shooting pain in my arm. grrr.

Anyway, after the baby was out and I was in the hospital bed, I got hooked up to pitocin, seeing as there wouldn't be any natural nursing stimulation coming from my baby. And had that awful tummy punching--nurses can be so mean!

I pushed the placenta out and the glimpse I got of it looked pretty good. Although having seen none in real life before, I can't be entirely sure. The cord did look rather short, even accounting for the part that had already been cut off, but once again, I don't really know what normal looks like. I wish I could have gotten a closer look at everything, just because I'm curious that way.

It seemed like forever that I was getting stitched up. I kept apologizing that I couldn't stop shaking, but the doc and nurse both assured me that it wasn't causing him any difficulties. I wasn't so worried about making his job hard, I just wanted to be stitched up really well. :)

all the while, I was crying. Ashia and Kim were both so kind and encouraging through all of the scary times, and though Ashia had to leave fairly quickly, Kim assured me she would stay until I could see the baby. My wonderful big sister, Greta, came in. She was the only one of my family (aside from her own children) in the hospital when Israel was born. And of course, all of Tom's family was otherwise engaged in various emergencies and life. My sister was in awe of me, having heard my loud vocalizations during pushing. I did scream, but it wasn't so much a pained scream, as just what my body needed to do to facilitate and manage the powerful contractions. Saddly, rather than inspiring her to try natural birth for her own birth, coming in November, it confirmed her desire for another c-section. :( I was really happy she was there though. I longed for someone who would mother me, and my sister has always done so. She's the best person in the world to have around when you're ill or hurt, just full of kind compassion.

I really wanted Tom with me too, but I didn't want him to leave Israel, and he didn't.

I was really a mess--those of you who've done this yourself know what I'm talking about--so the nurse encouraged me to shower if I wanted to before I headed down to the nursery. A part of me wanted to get to the nursery as soon as possible, but I knew once I got there, I wouldn't want to leave, so Kim and Ashia helped me take a quick shower. They joked with me about how I probably never thought I'd have a couple women standing around holding the soap and the shower curtain while I showered in my birthday suit. Ha ha, I worked at a swimming pool when I was 15 doing life guard work and assisting swim instructors (it's where I met Tom), the women's staff locker room was a good introduction to becoming less inhibited about ones body around other women. This was something that really shocked my christian school sports team compatriots later on...he he.

Just as I finished dressing, the pediatrician came in. He told me Israel was doing well, and that his counts had stayed great the whole time and though he didn't say so, I knew he meant to reassure me that there was no concern about brain damage. He then said that the baby needed to be monitored because he still wasn't breathing as well as he should be. This was distressing, but the next thing he said was much worse. He told me that the baby had been really stressed, and that because under stress blood flow is diverted to vital organs (heart, lungs, brain, etc.) and away from less vital ones, like the digestive system, it was important not to feed the baby right away. I've never had my head buzz, except when extremely exerting myself physically (like running too hard for long periods of time) but it did so now. I felt dizzy and it was hard to hear. I sat down and willed myself not to cry.

Looking back with a clear head, I'm not sure following the pediatrician's advice was the best course of action. I have a lot of respect for this doctor, he has been great to work with, and he was Tom's pediatrician and Tom's parent's neighbor. He'd also really helped out with recent advice to Tom regarding his back injury and had assisted us when Tom had injured his hand a few years ago when Tom didn't have health insurance. In general, he's great. However, I know from reports from other moms that he's not fanaticly supportive of breastfeeding. He supports it, because, of course, the evidence of its benifits is overwhelming, but he is not a "breastfeeding at almost any cost" type.

He said that generally the concern with smaller babies is necratizing of the intestines, requiring surgery later and possibly causing life-long problems. I kind of asked what the concern for big babies was, and I think I didn't get a great answer, possibly because larger babies weren't as commonly stressed as the small ones. It was a very fuzzy conversation for me. I asked when I could breastfeed him, and the doctor said we needed to wait a bit and see how Israel did.

I just sat there when the doc left and cried. Ashia, who's a La Leche League leader, was so encouraging and supportive, as was Kim. And I know that they asked questions of the doc on my and Israel's behalf. well, this just meant I was going to have to stay in the nursery even more and hold him skin to skin and breastfeed him as soon as it was safe to do so.

It was about this time that I was getting ready to leave the room, drying my tears and heading for the nursery that my parent's arrived with Eve. Did I already mention that they had to take over Eve-sitting for the birth? Tom's parent's had to help with Hunter, Eve's 13 year old cousin and Tom's sister's son who had to be life-flight-ed to Seattle that morning. Anyway, as soon as I saw Eve, and knowing how much she was looking forward to meeting the baby, and how much I wanted to be cheerful for her, I started crying. My mom told me later that Eve told her that she doesn't like to see me sad. Such a sweet girl. But crying in front of her just added to my distress. It was worse that I couldn't hold and hug her like I really wanted to.



I did finally make it to the nursery. And he looked so good and was so wonderful to cuddle. I did feel a whole lot better with him in my arms.

Sweet Eve

Just had to share a little tidbit.

The other night it was soooo hot, and Eve had had such a late, long nap--courtesy of Grandma--that it was 11:30 before she was asleep. Ugh. I wasn't too bothered though because the entire evening, though she seemed to really be grating on Tom's nerves, she was just the sweetest thing to me.

She would hug me and run to me every few minutes. And when I told her once that I loved her, her response was "Thank you for loving me." with her head cocked to the side and her smile just so precious.

A few moments before our second try at going down for the night, she was asking about my "nummy nums" (she's just so darn interested in anatomy these days). I've tried to teach her "breasts" now that she's not nursing, but after, oh, 2 years worth of saying "nummy nums" in reference to my breasts as well as breastfeeding, I think it's a hard habit to break. After we confirmed that she has breasts and daddy has breasts, but hers are small because she's small, and mine are big because I'm big (sigh), she asked shyly if she could have some. I was a bit surprised, but only a bit. I've heard it's common for newly-weaned children to test boundries...see if they are still welcome to what was freely given for so long. After a moment's hesitation, I said yes.

She immediately launched herself into my arms and gave me a long, fierce hug. Then she pulled away and started off on another subject. After a few moments of conversation, I asked if she still wanted to nurse, and she shook her head. Then she asked me if I wanted to have "nummy nums" from her. That made me laugh, and I suggested that she give one of her babies some instead, because babies nurse, not adults. She immediately picked up "Pooh baby" (a Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal that she really loves) and began to "nurse" him. She then informed me that he wasn't done yet. She alternated between looking at Pooh, looking off into space, and looking at me. It was so cute!

Vestiges

At the very bottom of my recently completed, prioritized "baby needs..." list is an item I'm considering removing.

A nursing necklace.

I remember when Eve was young, being annoyed that her little seeking hands would always grasp my hair and pull hard enough to make my eye's water. Then, when she got to the stage of limit testing, it became a great deal more annoying when she would purposely pull my hair as hard as she possibly could.

I thought that the perfect solution would have been to give her newborn hands something else to grasp, creating a habit that would leave hair pulling out of the equation later on. Then, if she grabbed my hair, I'd know she was up to something--I wouldn't have to wait until she suddenly pulled to know she was testing me out.

But now...now I find myself very happy about her habit of playing with my hair. It's become somewhat of a partial replacement for nursing, or rather, a remainder of the full ritual which we no longer practice.

At night when I help her go to sleep she plays with my hair. When she greets me after a separation (Even just the amount of time she's in nursery on Sunday's) she'll play with my hair. When she is tired, or frightened, or in need of comfort, she will often play with my hair. Sometimes she will even ask to do so from the back of the car when she begins to get sleepy. Unfortunately, I have to say no during those times. But otherwise, it makes me happy that she still wants closeness with me like that.

Since I'm unlikely to actually receive a nursing necklace, and since I can't forsee the financial flexibility to buy one for myself, I will soon have to remind myself that when my newborn is a newly weaned child, I will be happy to have him play with my hair rather than a necklace. Maybe that will make it easier to get through the painful hair pulling stages.

What am I really looking forward to?

I've officially got 5 weeks left. Actually, 4 weeks and 6 days.

Due to an injury I sustained on the 4th, I highly doubt all my "nesting" will be accomplished. Hopefully the house will happen to be mostly clean on the day I have the babe so I don't come home to a complete dive which will only get worse for a week or two.

I am really looking forward to being very slightly more comfortable in the heat, but otherwise, since I'm still unsure if I'll be able to accomplish the birth without tearing and going through the months of pain that I went through last time, I'm not really getting my hopes up about feeling physically better. Maybe my digestive issues will subside, maybe not. I certainly can't say I look forward to sleeping on my stomach, since with nursing through the night, sleeping is not exactly going to improve simply because I have a little more freedom of position.

I'm apprehensive about nursing too. Eve was a natural, although with my over-active letdown, it wasn't the most enjoyable activity for her. I'm somewhat worried it will be more difficult this time, and I know that with a toddler running around, I can't look forward to the long hours of couch-confinement with quite the same peaceful anticipation. I do look forward to it, but I'm thinking I'll like it better about the time I may have to return to work. At which point the anti-joy of pumping will intrude somewhat.

But I *am* really looking forward to babywearing again! Aside from the issue of finding a comfortable style of carrier for August, I can't think of any negatives to this. With all the new babies at church and several more besides my own on the way, I've had my carriers out a lot more than usual. And Eve has been wanting to be worn for the first time in...months and months and months. I have realized that I've almost completely forgotten how to back-wrap her, but it's been fun (if a bit tiring). Of course, I have to stop farming all my carriers out. Currently, I've promised the mei Tai to a gal who's toddler hurt her ankle and is more clingy than usual. I gave my woven wrap to another friend who is already into wearing her babies, but hasn't tried a wrap yet. My lovely silk ring sling was loaned out over a year ago to a friend I'm not in touch with much anymore. So... in my possession are a cotton ring sling, some homemade knit wraps and my pouch (which never worked for me in the early days because of nursing enlargement. :)

What I could really use are some new carriers. Like a water wrap, or a cotton guaze wrap, or this carrier, which looks totally awesome. Go sign up for the giveaway (courtesy of All Natural Mommies) if you think so too (or don't so my odds are better. ;))

Weaned

It's been nearly 5 weeks since Eve last nursed. And about 3 since she last asked to.

The last time she nursed was early morning when she crawled into bed with us.

Eve: "Where's my binky?"

Me: "I don't know."

Eve: "I want nummy nums [her term for breastfeeding]"

I let her nurse and she fell back to sleep quickly. I popped her off before she was done, but after she was satisfied and she drifted off, as did I.

I didn't know it would be the very last time, but for each time before that for weeks I tried hard to enjoy and remember our time together, because I knew it could be the last, and I wanted to be able to remember it.

After that night, I began stashing a spare binky on the windowsill at the head of the bed. That way I would always know where one was, if she asked.

The photo at the top of this post was taken by Tom. I was somewhat frantic to get a few shots of Eve nursing before it was over, for her sake and for mine. I remember one time on a Sunday when she nursed to sleep in my lap, and I thought, This could be it, this could be the last time. I don't know where the camera is!!!.

The next time, I prepared, and out of a dozen shots, I actually got her face in about 4 photos, the best of which are below.



Until you've tried it, you simply can't imagine how hard it is to do a "self portrait" of you feeding your baby.



Prior to these shots, the only photo that exists of me nursing Eve was taken about 15 minutes after she was born, in the hospital, with me looking like...well, like I just gave birth with an IV of fluids in my arm (dumb hospital policy). That's kind of a bad record given the number of photos we have of Eve, and the number of hours she spent in her little life nursing.

Assuming I can get my act together, I'll be more careful to get pictures of Eve's little brother nursing earlier and more often. Of course, there is this rumor that you don't take anywhere near as many pictures of your second as you do your first. I am not going to say that won't be true for us, but I do hope there's a higher ratio of breastfeeding photos than in Eve's vast portfolio of photos.

Eve has asked to nurse once since that night. It was early in the morning, and I was downstairs exercising. She wasn't getting enough attention from me, was still tired, and hadn't yet had breakfast or even a drink. I picked her up off the couch and she asked for "nummy nums"

Me: "Sure honey. But would you rather have a snack instead?"

She nodded solemnly, with little perfect tears brimming in her eyes. and said, "uh huh."

So I took her upstairs, got her a bowl of cereal, and she never looked back.

We've spoken about it some. She misses it a little, and she's still interested in my "nummy nums" and talks about how Peanut will have them. She's committed to helping Peanut learn how to nurse.

Her weaning is not quite the perfect weaning I might have hoped for. Due to the need for me to work part time away from home from the time she was about 4 months old, she's always had a certain tolerance for bottles and binkies. Until I became pregnant, the binky was really a second-rate replacement. Since pregnancy, and the subsequent drying-up of what little milk remained, there was a slow but steady shift in preference for the binky.

The upside to this, is she never really had to go through a time when she didn't get to find comfort in sucking. There's was never a need for me to put my foot down and say, "no more" or "only for a moment." There were no tears to this weaning, despite the fact that she has not quite outgrown her need to suck.

The downside, of course, is that I will now have to wean her from the binky, which will be harder, since I have control over my body, but quite a bit less control over little plastic plugs that seem to turn up magically, as if growing right out of the carpet.

Just this week I have really seen the challenges involved in losing a valuable mothering tool like breastfeeding. Eve has her first post-nursing cold, and I cannot comfort her as I once did through the fitful nights. Her behavior has been quite awful, excusable because of her illness, but not the norm. Nursing helped her through discomfort and tough feelings in a way that a binky simply can not do.

In addition, my germaphobe nature is rearing its ugly head. I can no longer provide her with additional nutrients to augment her diet, consisting of almost nothing because of a decreased appetite. I can no longer provide her with my immunities through my breast milk. She's not protected as she once was, and I find myself feeling a bit nervous that we never went to her 2-year well-baby appointment to get another round of vaccines, which before never seemed to be much of a priority.

God knows how frantic I'll feel when she gets the stomach flu. Nursing has been the way to comfort, nourish, and hydrate through such an illness in the past. What will I do if she won't drink? Will a binky and stroking my hair as she rests in my lap be comfort enough? How will we get through it without nursing?

But the biggest challenge I thought I would face hasn't materialized. She falls asleep just as easily (which is not very easily, quite honestly) as she ever did. She still cuddles and strokes my hair, and it's just a little bit harder for me to tell when she is truly asleep, as the binky provides no signals as to how her sucking pattern has changed. I look forward to the day when she won't need the binky, and when it takes a bit less time to get her down for the night, but for now, I don't mind the arrangement (most of the time).

And then there's simply the wistfulness.

I'm sure that if I were not pregnant, and a mere 6 weeks from the due date of this new baby, I would feel a great deal more grief than I do. As it is, I know that another nursing relationship is right around the corner, with all its frustrations and joys. So I can look pragmatically at this weaning as a good and necessary change, inevitable and bitter-sweet.