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One month

My baby is one month old today! Getting so old. He’s walking, talking, and potty-trained.

Ok no.

But, he has made a lot of changes since he was born. For one, he’s noticeably bigger. At first, I could hold him with one arm and it would feel like I was holding nothing since he was so light. I can still do the one-arm football hold, but he feels much heavier. His body is starting to fill out and he seems longer to me. Later today, we’ll visit the pediatrician to get his stats. I’m going to put in my guess and say he’s 20.5 inches and 7 lbs. 3 oz.

He smiles in quick little spurts, and it just melts my heart! So cute. I’m not fast enough to capture it on camera, but soon enough I’ll get him. I think he has dimples, but those big smiles are so rapid that I can’t be sure. Mostly, he gives us little half-grins.

All we do all day is feed, cuddle and sleep. There’s an occasional bath tossed in. Oh, and he goes through a lot of diapers. He’ll poop (you can usually hear the splurt!) and we’ll wait a few minutes but he won’t be done, and then he’ll fill another diaper shortly after. Lol.

He’s starting to get better head control, but he’s still kind of a bobble head. Shane likes to give him his “tummy time” and I think that helps.

Jonathan seems to prefer sleeping in someone’s arms instead of laying down on his own. That’s fine during the day, but when I haven’t had a wink of sleep in awhile, it gets really tiring. I honestly don’t accomplish anything during the day except for feeding him. I’m lucky if I change my clothes or shower. I have to remind myself to get something to eat or drink, since a lot of the time I either don’t think about it or I’m too tired to get up and get it (if Shane’s home, he gets me things of course).

In a lot of ways, having a newborn is exactly how I imagined it to be: He sleeps, poops, eats and cries, and that’s about it. I’m insanely sleep-deprived. Everyone knows these things will happen.

I think that we’re actually doing pretty well. We’ve been fortunate to have our parents come and stay with us for a few days, and they’ve been helpful. We have a healthy baby (thank God!) so we just have basic things to do for Johnny.

Even though I would like more sleep, I guess it doesn’t really matter at this point. I’m doing exactly what I should be doing: feeding and loving my baby. I don’t think I’m supposed to be doing anything else right now anyway.

I hope that our lives get easier soon, though. I want to start venturing outdoors some more. Later today, we’re going to the doctor like I said. I’m also hoping we can do a little bit of shopping. Maybe?

Also, I’m proud of Shane and I. We hadn’t ever cared for a newborn before, and had limited interaction with the tiniest of babies before our son was born. We really didn’t know what we were doing, but we managed to figure things out just fine. Our first week at home was just the three of us — no outside help. Getting through that week did a lot of good for our confidence.

Caring for a newborn: Like a full-time job?

Let’s do a comparison.

Full-time job: 40 hours per week
Baby: 168 hours per week minus time for mama to shower, sit on the potty, and an occasional quick trip to the grocery. Also, subtract time Dad is the only parent responding to Baby (when Mama is too tired to move, let alone tend to Baby) = 160 hours per week. Hmm. That’s like four full-time jobs!

Full-time job: Someone pays you money.
Baby: You get a tax credit and tax deduction. Other forms of payment include cuddles and grins.

Full-time job: You leave your work at work. It typically ends when you clock out at the end of the day.
Baby: Always on the clock.

Full-time job: You have a lunch hour (or lunch half hour) and maybe one quick coffee break each day.
Baby: Your employer eats 8-12 times or more in a 24-hour span. Translated to an 8-hour workday, Baby will have about three to four meals in that time slot, each around 20 to 45 minutes long.

Full-time job: It would be illegal/immoral to kiss your boss.
Baby: Your boss expects hundreds of kisses per day, and you gladly oblige.

Full-time job: Work to live.
Baby: Live to work.

I didn’t sleep much last night. I had a nap around 7:30 p.m. and got up around 10 p.m., and was awake with Jonathan until, oh, 5:30 a.m. after Shane and I tried everything we could think of to get him to sleep. Turns out, he wanted to sleep in someone’s arms. I parked myself in the recliner and got as cozy as I could, and we both passed out until 7:30.

Breakfast (his, not mine).

Then, we slept until about 10:45.

Brunch (his).

Slept again until about 2 p.m.

Lunch.

He’s sleeping right now, and I should be asleep too I guess. I need to get a meal in my belly first.

My body didn’t know extreme physical pain until I gave birth. I didn’t know “love-at-first-sight” until my son was placed on my belly. And I certainly didn’t know extreme exhaustion until I had a newborn. All-nighters in college? Yeah. You sleep at the end of those for as long as you want. But life with a newborn? I sleep in 45 minute to 3-hour long spurts, with 30 minute to many-hours long bursts of time awake in between. For almost four weeks straight and counting.

I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, but man, this little guy can really kick my butt. And yet, I’d much prefer to care for him than have any other ‘job.’

He won’t be this little for long. And his needs and sleep patterns will change soon enough. Until then, we’re still in survival mode.

What on earth could I be doing that could be any better than this?

The birth of Jonathan Michael

The name Jonathan means “God has given” or “gift of God.” God most certainly has given us more blessings than we can count! We’ve been blessed through every step of my pregnancy through delivery and in the days following. Here’s my account of the story of little Johnny’s birth.

Friday, December 19, 2008

As I drove Shane to the park-and-ride lot to catch the bus for work, we noted the date: December 19. Months ago, we had decided the 19th seemed the most ideal day for me to go into labor. I’d be far enough along in my pregnancy to expect a healthy, full-term baby (I was 38 weeks and 3 days on the 19th), it was a few days before Christmas, and thanks to weekends, Christmas and his remaining vacation time, Shane would have the maximum amount of paid time off he could get. Not to mention, it would still be 2008 and we’d be able to claim our baby on our 2008 taxes.

But do babies actually come on their own when it’s most convenient for everyone? Apparently, some do.

I had no real indication that I was about to go into labor. I’d been having mild contractions on and off for the past week, but that’s it.

“I don’t think we’re going to have a baby this weekend,” I told my husband. “Maybe tonight we can go out to eat, and tomorrow we can walk around at the mall.”

He thought that sounded like a reasonable plan, and kissed me good-bye as he stepped out of the car.

I returned home and fixed a bowl of rice krispies. I opened my laptop and started reading others’ birth stories. Each story was different from the last, and I wondered how my labor would go.

I felt tired and thought it would be a good idea to take a nap.

11 a.m. – Water, water everywhere we’re gonna get wet

I woke up to use the bathroom. Still sleepy, I climbed back into bed and that’s when it happened.

I felt a gush of liquid escape.

“I know I didn’t just pee my pants,” I thought. After all, I had just emptied my bladder. It wasn’t much fluid, maybe a tablespoon or two, but I thought I’d better call my midwife to get her opinion.

While waiting for her call back, I emptied the dishwasher and tried to declutter the apartment as best as I could, in case this was really it.

An hour later, the midwives’ nurse called and I described the first gush and explained I had a few more since then. She wanted me to come in to be checked out, and suggested I have Shane come home since I might not be leaving the hospital without a baby.

Noon – We’re having a baby, my baby and me – Desi Arnaz

I called Shane. We typically chat during his lunch hour, but usually our calls are toward the end of his break.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey. We’re having a baby this weekend.”

“Haha, are you serious? I thought that’s why you were calling now. What’s happening?”

“I think my water broke and they want me to come in and get checked out. Can you be on the next bus back home?”

“YES!”

I looked online to find the bus schedules and told him when the next one would be along. He typed a quick e-mail to his co-workers and flew out the door toward the bus stop. He called a few minutes later. Gasping for air, he had just missed the bus. He would have to wait 10 more minutes in the pouring rain for another to be along.

I fixed a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of Ovaltine. I certainly didn’t feel like I was in labor as I only had intermittent, painless contractions. I wanted to take my time getting to the hospital since I knew that my labor could be much slower there.

Shane arrived, looking exhilarated. He changed out of his work clothes and ate his lunch while I finished throwing last-minute items together.

I fired off an e-mail and texted friends and family to let them know what was happening and to ask for prayers.

One text: “Water broke! Probably having a baby soon. Heading to hosp in a little. Pray for us!” and I sent it on its way. I thought one of the recipients was my Aunt Stacy.

I was puzzled when she sent this response “My prayers and thoughts r with u even though i don’t remember who u r.”

I was like…this is Kacie! Your sister’s daughter! And I was confused, because how many full-term pregnant ladies did she know anyway?

Turns out, I had the wrong number. I was texting a guy named Tony, who lives in Jasper, Ind. Oh. Whoops! It was nice of him to pray for me anyway.

1:45 p.m. – Little St. Nick – Beach Boys

We headed out the door and were happy to discover that the rain had stopped and the sun was shining. I was singing along to the Beach Boys’ “Little Saint Nick” on the radio. This was not how I imagined our trip to the hospital. We were both calm, it wasn’t rush hour, a Steelers game or bad weather. One of the many things I prayed for was an unstressful trip to the hospital — and we got exactly that.

2:30 p.m. – Peace of mind – Boston

I went in for an exam, and midwife Emily confirmed that I was leaking amniotic fluid — “beautiful fluid,” she called it, whatever that means. My blood pressure was a bit high for me. She hooked me up to the fetal monitors to watch the baby’s heartbeat and contractions (that I wasn’t really having).

Things looked good and we discussed our options. We could go home and wait for contractions to become regular and frequent. Or, we could hang around in the general area and encourage things along around 5 p.m., which was six hours after the fluid started leaking.

Throughout the last half of my pregnancy, I had been preparing for a natural, unmedicated childbirth. And now, those plans were quickly being replaced with talks of induction.

Emily cautioned us about the risks of waiting too long to deliver once the amniotic fluid was ruptured. We were risking infection and my fluid levels getting too low, which can cause distress for the baby.

I initially wanted to avoid an induction, since I knew that it might not work and I’d be increasing my risk of a c-section. However, I knew that with my water breaking, we were officially in it to win it, and time was not on our side anymore.

I felt at peace with the induction.

Emily suggested misoprostol, which I vetoed. This pill (brand name Cytotec) is the one medicine I absolutely refused. A drug for the treatment of ulcers, some obstetricians and midwives are using it off-label to jump-start contractions. The problem? The pill has to be cut, so you don’t know the exact dose you’ll get. There is no standard dose to give pregnant women anyway. Once it’s placed on the cervix, there’s no stopping it. Many women handle it just fine. But, there is a risk of uterine rupture, among other things. That’s a death sentence for baby, and possibly mom as well.

So, no thanks. No misoprostol for me. What else can we try?

Emily was understanding.

We decided that if by 5 p.m., my cervix was still not dilated, we proceed with Cervidil. If it was around 3 cm, I’d be given Pitocin.

Shane and I walked to Panera Bread for one last meal out as a family of two. Looks like we were able to go out to eat that evening after all! I had a cup of french onion soup and a half of a ham and swiss sandwich. Shane had the chipotle chicken sandwich. Oh, and I had a Pepsi. I avoided soft drinks throughout my pregnancy, but on this night I wanted caffeine.

We munched our dinner, digesting the realization that we would be parents within a day or less.

I started to notice some contractions, and I kept my eye on the clock to see if there was any pattern to them. They were about five minutes apart. I could easily talk and eat through them, as they were only slightly uncomfortable and not at all painful.

5 p.m. – All I want for Christmas is you- Love, Actually soundtrack

We power-walked our way back to the hospital, making a quick stop at the car to pick up our bags. We had one for Shane’s clothes, one for mine, one for the baby’s, a bag of snacks, a laptop, camera, three DVDs, and a partridge in a pear tree.

I thought my labor would be a bit slow, hence the movies. We brought Blues Brothers, Love Actually, and School of Rock. Heh. We never watched them.

I was a direct admit into the labor suites, meaning I didn’t have to hang out at triage until labor got going. That was nice. I requested a room with a whirlpool tub, and they sent me on my way to labor suite six.

6 p.m. – I feel fine – The Beatles

I traded my comfy sweats for a stylish hospital gown and climbed into bed so I could give blood samples and have my heplock inserted. The fetal monitors were strapped to my belly to keep watch on the baby’s heartbeat and my contractions.

Contractions were coming at about every four minutes and were lasting 60 to 90 seconds. I know this because that’s what the monitor showed — I barely noticed these contractions. If I was at home, I doubt I would have paid much attention to them.

My blood pressure crept up. I blamed nerves. They took my blood pressure again, this time with me in a new position and with my free hand holding Shane’s. It was lower this time, though still higher than they’d like.

7 p.m. – You make me feel like a natural woman – Aretha Franklin

Midwife Emily checked my progress. My cervix was so high that she had trouble reaching it. She concluded that I was 0 cm dilated and perhaps 50 percent effaced. The baby was around -1 station. She started the Cervidil.

They had me stay in bed for one hour while they monitored me. Shane and I thought it would be a good idea to try to take a nap. We were unable to sleep.

I didn’t realize that with the Cervidil in place, I’d have continuous fetal monitoring. The nurses kindly switched me from the regular fetal monitors to the mobile one, and after that first hour was up, I tried to move around some.

My blood pressure was still high, and they wanted a urine sample to check for protein. Because my fluid was leaking (and it contains protein, apparently), they wanted to use a catheter. That sounded so unpleasant to me, so I asked if I could try to do a clean catch. Emily agreed it was worth a shot.

I stayed in the bathroom and turned on the shower. It felt great, and by that point I was running the sprayer over my belly during contractions. It helped so much. Contractions were stronger now and I had to relax and breathe through them. I leaned on Shane and he supported my weight while I held the sprayer on my belly.

He squatted at my side, trying to balance his weight and support me.

I got sick, but luckily had my little vomit bucket handy. I choked and I was afraid I would have another contraction before clearing my airway. I don’t know what happens if you contract while choking. I think you explode.

I was fine, but my antics caused the monitors to go nuts and the nurse made me get out of the tub.

I compromised by sitting on the potty and leaning over Shane during the contractions that followed.

11 p.m. – Stand by me – The Temptations

Shane’s cell phone rang.

“DO NOT ANSWER IT,” I growled as another contraction demanded our full concentration.

The nurse popped her head into the bathroom to let us know that there was protein in my sample, so they had to do a catheter anyway. Unpleasant!!

Saturday, December 20, 2008

1 a.m.- Surely the presence- hymn

The second sample came back with protein in it. Hey, whaddya know, I had developed preeclampsia. The protein count was at 330, and preeclampsia is defined at being around 300, I believe. We had a little complication on our hands.

Preeclampsia is a pregnancy-related condition that can be quite serious for mom and baby. It shows up in about 5 to 7 percent of pregnancies, and no one is certain of its cause. Its signs include elevated blood pressure, protein in the urine, and swelling of the extremities. The protein in the urine is because the lining of blood vessels are damaged.

This illness can lead to a lower birthweight and restricted nutrition in baby. It can also cause seizures and lung, liver and kidney failure in the mother. Lovely, right?

My case of preeclampsia was mild. But, it had come about rather rapidly, and it could get worse fast. The only cure is getting the baby out. I am so fortunate that I was already full-term and in labor by the time this was discovered.

Looking back, I could see signs of the preeclampsia developing. On Thursday the 18th, my blood pressure was slightly high, which was unusual for me. My hands were slightly swollen, as was my face. But, I wasn’t spilling protein at that checkup.

Back in bed I went, this time for good. They connected my heplock to an IV of magnesium sulfate to prevent seizures.

Contractions were strong and coming every two minutes. By this point, I was moaning “Ohhh” in a low tone during each contraction. I think it helped. At the very least, it showed the nurses that I was contracting, and not to talk to me until I was done.

My body tensed. I fought to relax each muscle so that my energy wouldn’t be wasted and my pain would be minimized. Eyes closed, one hand gripped Shane’s and the other rested along the bed rail.

I tried to take my mind off the pain by silently praying and singing hymns in my mind:

“Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place/ I can feel His mighty power and His grace / I can hear the brush of angel’s wings/ I see glory on each face/ Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place…”

My heart sang. This calming hymn was slow and comforting. By the time I would finish, the peak of the contraction had passed and the pain melted away.

Emily checked my progress, and I was disappointed to find out I was only at 4 cm dilated. I was certain that I would be much further than that, given the intensity and frequency of the contractions.

I started to wonder if I could really get through this, since I had no idea how much longer it would be, or how much harder it would get. Shane reminded me to focus on one contraction at a time, and that I was doing a good job.

2:50 a.m. – Don’t stop believin’ – Journey

I was at about 6.5 to 7 cm and the contractions were one on top of another. I was in transition, which is generally known as the roughest, most painful part of labor. I started saying things like, “I think I want an epidural,” and “I can’t do this for much longer,” etc. I felt intense contractions in my lower abdomen and the pain wrapped around my body to my lower back. Shane applied counter pressure by pressing hard on my back, which helped some. But oh man, ow! It hurt. A lot.

“Do you want pain medication?” the nurse asked.

I hesitated.

“I dunno. I just want to get the baby out,” I said.

Between contractions the pain went away. That’s what made it tolerable — a little break in between!  My positioning was limited since I was tethered to the IV. I found it most comfortable to lay on my left side. Shane didn’t have to support my weight, and he breathed with me and told me to relax my face, shoulders and fists. Sometimes he’d have to repeat himself until I did it. Consciously relaxing really did help.

When I started talking about epidurals, Shane reminded me that my labor was progressing fast, so that’s why the contractions were coming so fast and so intensely. He and the med staff told me that it would be over soon. Shane reminded me of Johnny and that we were doing this all for him. I couldn’t have gotten through labor without him!

Looking back, I don’t see how I could have had an epidural. The contractions were so close, there was no way I could hold still long enough. And by the time they would have gotten it administered and for it to take hold, I likely would have been pushing anyway. For me, talking about that epidural was one huge sign that we were almost done.

My contractions started to space out. In the back of my mind, I knew that this meant I’d be pushing soon.

3:38 a.m. IT’S PEANUTBUTTER JELLY TIME!

My body started pushing with contractions.

Shane noticed me tensing up and could tell what I was up to. It didn’t feel like I had to poop, as some people describe it. It just felt like I had to push, and my body was going to do that whether I was ready or not!

I could feel the Cervidil come out.

“Stop pushing!” he told me.

“Whatever! I can’t!”

“Nurse! She’s pushing!”

Labor nurse Karin hit a button on the wall, and the room rapidly shifted from “labor” to “delivery.”

I was still laying on my side, with my back toward the main part of the room. When I turned and looked to see what was happening, I felt as if we had been transported to another room.

Dressed in scrubs, Emily took a seat in the catcher’s position. They took apart part of my bed (with me still on it), removing the foot half. A light, previously hidden, descended from the ceiling.

“Look, Kacie! They have the bassinet all ready for your baby!” Karin told me.

I looked over to see two pediatricians taking their position near it.

Suzanna, a kind pediatrician who stopped to chat with me earlier in the evening, had also returned. She hadn’t yet observed an epidural-free delivery and wanted to see one. She had attempted an unmedicated delivery herself, but she ended up going for that epi.

Push time. Emily discovered that I was completely dilated (which I figured I was) and the baby was at +3 station. That made me really excited and I forgot all about that epidural!

Somewhere around that time, they gave me an oxygen mask. I don’t know if the baby was acting funny or what the deal was.

I stayed in the side-lying position. Karin supported my right leg as I pushed with the contractions. After a few pushes, we could tell this position wasn’t going to be the most effective.

I didn’t feel like moving, but I did want to get the baby out. I ended up in the 45-degree angle reclined pose, and Shane supported one leg while Karin held the other. Karin taught me how to push.

We waited for the next contraction.

“Here it comes!” I announced, feeling my abdomen tighten.

Shane and Karin got into position.

“Take a deep breath, then let it out,” Karin directed. “Take another, now hold it and push! Bear down like you’re having the biggest bowel movement of your life!”

Now, I’ve got to say that I’m an experienced BMer. I’ve dealt with all sorts of BMs. In a vague way, pushing out my baby felt like I was having a massive BM. But mostly, it felt like I was pushing out a baby.

I was able to get three good pushes in per contraction. Shane counted aloud how long I pushed, which was helpful to me.

When I worked with my body and pushed with those contractions, I felt no pain. I felt extreme pressure, but no pain. Isn’t that something? It only hurt if I wasn’t giving it a good heave-ho with my pushing muscles.

I could feel the difference between a good-effort push and a so-so one. With the strong pushes, I could feel my baby slowly work his way out. Emily, Karin and Shane could also tell, and encouraged me along.

“Your baby has hair!” Emily told me. My next push was much stronger.

“What do you think?” I asked her between contractions.

“What do I think about what?”

“What do you think about how this is going?” I asked.

“I think you have just a few more pushes before meeting your baby!”

I rallied my strength and concentrated all my energy on getting my baby out. I loved being pregnant, but I knew I’d love being my son’s mom even more. It was time to meet the little guy who had been kicking my ribs for so many months.

Another breath, another push.

“It burns!” I hollered. I was aware that this burning sensation, or “ring of fire” as it’s sometimes called, meant that the baby was crowning. He was almost out!

I leaned back on the bed, resting and waiting for the next contraction.

“I bet he’s born by 4:21,” I heard Karin say to someone else.

“Oh yeah? What time is it?” I wanted to know.

“4:20.”

No way. How did it get to be 4 a.m. on Saturday? Shane and I had lost all concept of time.

I needed a little more time than Karin predicted.

Our final contraction. I took a breath and pushed with everything I had.

A head! A head was out!

“One more push, Kacie! Push now!”

Even though my contraction was over, I pushed once more.

4:24 a.m. Beautiful Boy – John Lennon

Jonathan was here!

In one motion, Emily placed my son on my belly. He “bit” her finger with his gums as she suctioned fluid from his mouth.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Screaming, covered in goo and just a little bit blue, he was the most incredible thing I had ever seen.

“Happy birthday, Baby!” I whispered. “Welcome to your life!”

Emily says I pushed for about 46 minutes, but it didn’t feel that long to me.

Emily handed Pittsburgh’s newest father some scissors, and Shane cut Jonathan’s umbilical cord.

We originally wanted to wait to cut the cord until it stopped pulsing, but because of my preeclampsia, the pediatricians wanted the cord cut and the baby evaluated sooner.

The doctors examined and weighed my baby, and I was surprised to hear he was only 6 pounds 5 ounces. He felt a lot bigger on the way out!

Shane went to stand near our son while Emily collected Jonathan’s cord blood for public donation.

A few little pushes, and out came the placenta. Bye!

I looked over at Jonathan, who was still naked and screaming. The kid had the biggest feet!

He was perfectly healthy, and they bundled him up and placed him in Shane’s arms. He brought him over so I could get a better look while Emily stitched my second-degree tear.

Shane and I looked at our child, staring into his beautiful face and feeling overwhelmed with emotion. We had done it. We had given birth to a healthy baby boy, and without pain medication. It was a total group effort — Shane, Johnny, myself and the medical staff. And God. God was there every step of the way.

A new life entered the world that day, bringing with him new parents, new grandparents, aunts and uncles — and a whole lot of joy.

My brain, it’s melting

K. This post probably reflects how scattered my brain is. I’m on baby time now, and that means my sleep is rare and intermittent. Bear with.

Johnny turned two weeks old on Saturday. He has baby acne on his forehead. Aww…the little guy thinks he’s a teenager! I hope it clears up soon, because it’s taking away from his cuteness just a little.

I had an appointment with the midwives on Friday. My darling parents visited us from last Monday until Friday morning, so it was just Jonathan and I out there in the world.

Backtrack: My parents were such a tremendous help to us. They cooked, cleaned, did miscellaneous projects around the apartment, kept me company duing his late-night fussy time, and were just generously fabulous. I miss them and I wish they didn’t have to leave! It was so great watching them hold their first grandchild. Being a grandparent has got to be the most fun. I’m looking forward to it in 20+ years! Shane’s parents and brother are heading over later this week. Yay!

Back to our first solo trip out. It went well. I bundled him up, grabbed a baby carrier, and headed out the door.

You might recall that we chose a convertible style car seat instead of an infant carrier. I do see the appeal of having an infant carrier, in that you can put them in it in a warm house and you also have a place to set them down. But ya know what, our convertible seat is working just fine. He doesn’t fuss (much) when I snap him in. And when we’re out, I’ve been putting him in a sling. He’s fine with that, I think.

He slept the entire time we were gone.

On Sunday, our family of three headed out for our first non-medical trip in public. We went to Babies R Us. I felt comfortable with that since I knew they have a room for nursing mothers to do their thing in private.

I loaded Johnny into my Baby K’Tan, zipped my coat around us both, and we all headed inside. We were there for an hour or so, and at least three people said something like, “What a tiny baby!” to us. Yep! He’s pretty tiny still.

The day before my water broke, Shane’s co-workers threw him a mini baby shower and gave him a gift card to BRU. So, we used that to buy a nursing cover, some vitamin drops (apparently exclusively breastfed babies might not get enough vitamin D, so we’re supplementing that so he doesn’t get rickets. Cuz that’s no good), more newborn-sized diapers, and a swing.

The swing seems cool enough — it glides, rocks, plays music and loads the dishwasher. Er, almost. It provides a place to put the baby while I load the dishwasher. I could put him in a sling and do that, but I find that bending over while wearing a newborn is too scary for me. Slings work best when mama is upright, in my opinion.

While buckling him into his swing, I caught his tiny arm in the buckle and pinched him. D’oh! He cried for a second, but I don’t think he was hurt too badly. It broke my heart to know that I caused him pain . Good thing he’s more durable than he looks.

One of Shane’s coworkers gave us an electric breast pump. I used it for the first time today. What a bizarre device. I definitely prefer nursing to pumping. Pumping was somewhat uncomfortable and it made me feel like a cow being milked.

Jonathan is coming up on a growth spurt (I’m expecting it to hit when he’s about three weeks old) and I want to help increase my supply to help with those frequent feedings that are coming. I’ve been pumping after he’s finished nursing to help empty out my boobs and increase my production.

I didn’t realize that they also have a little growth spurt around seven to 10 days of age. Well, when Johnny was 10 days old, that was the day he nursed for a long time. So yeah, I’ve gotta get ready!

Until he’s a month old, I’m supposed to nurse him every three hours around the clock, with one feeding that can go four hours apart. This is not easy. Nursing him this often usually means I have to wake him. Waking a sleepy baby is not my favorite thing.

And, especially for middle-of-the-night feedings, I’m exhausted. I don’t always wake up. I either don’t hear my alarm or I fall back asleep before I actually feed him. If Johnny cries, I wake up, so maybe I should change my phone alarm ringtone to the sound of his cry.

So anyway, I’ve gone five hours between feedings on at least one occasion. I think I might have gone six hours between feedings the other day (or was it today? I have no idea), but there’s a chance I got in a feeding in the middle so I don’t know. The thing is – I cannot remember.

He’s getting the appropriate number of wet and dirty diapers, so I do know he’s being fed. I just worry that these missed feedings will affect his growth and my supply during these early weeks.

Speaking of, it’s time for another feeding. It’s exactly three hours since the last one, and he’s actually starting to wake up on his own! YAY!

10-day checkup (a few days late)

On Tuesday, my mom and I took Jonathan to the pediatrician, and I’m happy to report that all is well!

Jonathan weighed 5 lbs. 11 oz. last Tuesday, which was the same as he weighed on Monday coming home from the hospital (birth weight was 6 lbs. 5 oz). One week later, he was up to 6 lbs. 2 oz! That’s gaining about one ounce per day, which is perfect.

All other baby things checked out just fine. Yay!

I’m exclusively breastfeeding, and while it’s going well, I’m not going to say it’s easy. Sometimes he latches perfectly; other times it takes awhile. And waking a sleepy baby so he can nurse every three hours isn’t easy. And not getting more than a few hours of sleep at a time…not easy on me.

Earlier this week, he was nursing for 1:45. An hour and forty-five minutes. These were gulps, too — not just suckling. I went to bed at 2:30. He was hungry again at 5. And then at 6. And then at 7. He seems to be hungriest at night, and more of a sleepyhead during the day. I hope I can swap that around.

I know it will get easier. I know that soon enough, he won’t need such frequent feedings. I know that we’ll be better and more efficient with our latches. But for now, I’m just taking things a day at a time, and I’m thankful it’s going as well as it is so far. Oh, and I’m gearing up for his three-week growth spurt which should hit next week. I’m hoping we can master the side-by-side laying latch by then.

Last night, Johnny was up from midnight to about 3:30 a.m. He was wide awake, looking around and oh-so-fussy. We tried everything — swaddling, rocking, trying to feed him, changing his diaper, shushing in his ear — and he just would not settle down.

Then, we brought out the heavy artillery. I was hoping to avoid using pacifiers until he was older, but I was desperate. We gave him a pacifier and almost instantly, he calmed down and went right to sleep. It was amazing.

I don’t want him to be reliant on pacifiers since they can potentially cause problems with nursing (supply issues, early weening, latch problems, etc.). But for pete’s sake, I needed sleep and that little thing helped me get about three hours in a row last night. Thank you, Nuk!