I've been thinking of the toss ups between having a living baby and a dead baby. With a living baby, all the suffering has a "worth it" button you can easily push. With a dead baby, there is no button and all of your suffering has nowhere to go. But if given the choice between a dead baby and not suffering from hives and a live baby with my suffering from hives now entering its 3rd week? That's a no brainer, and yet the two choices are really not choices at all. It's like saying, would you rather have a broken left leg or a broken right leg? Either choice sucks.
But this time around we're not planning a funeral. Would I take hives over a funeral? You bet. This time around the cards that arrive in the mail don't have ridiculous phrases of "now you have an angel watching over you" and "they aren't gone, just away", but happy sing-song verses of bouncing baby boys and cutesy animals and blue and yellow and green and happy happy joy joy bursting through the mailbox. Definitely the congrats cards win out over the sympathy cards.
And I'm not lamenting the puffiness of my waistline, my enlarged belly button (now I can finally clean it - with a toilet scrubber!), the itchy red stretch marks on my hips, the lymph nodes in my left armpit bulging when it's time to nurse, my hair in a ponytail for days on end, the tender spot in me that is my uterus healing from surgery.
I press that button.
***
Baby is doing fine. He had jaundice and stayed in the hospital two additional days after I was released, under and over the bilirubin phototherapy lights. The last two days he was put in an isolette (cue flashbacks from the NICU days - we tried our damndest not to freak out) with a phototherapy light above him. That seemed to work and we were discharged with instructions to feed him as much as possible. Five days later we were back in the pedi's office and a blood test showed his levels were back up! Uggh...so supplementing with formula was prescribed. We think he is back to or past his birth weight, having been at 8 lbs at the two week appointment.
We made a quick stop at the cemetery after being discharged so the girls could meet him, and the floodgates opened. It was painful to see the grave marker and our beautiful, perfect boy sitting next to it. I have three children, but I only have one.
We are adjusting. My Mom is here, a blessing. My Dad arrives in two months.
His name -- he is named after wannabe dad. His middle name, Makana, Hawaiian for "the gift".
He is crying now, and the milk is coming down. Stopping lactation or encouraging milk supply? Definitely the latter, even though let down hurts a bit and his latching on is not consistent, and he likes to swat at and kick the tender nipples.
Press.
4 comments:
I wish things were easier for you. You just don't need all the physical discomfort on top of all the emotional maneuvering which I know was bound to come up.
I can only hope that things get easier. I am glad your mom is there-- I know my mom was huge help when Monkey was first born.
I had the hives...they do pass, just take some benadryl, and make sure you get enough water and get a shower here and there.
It get s better, it's just not so fun at first.
i get how hard it is. i was shocked by how hard it was, to be honest...and a part of me kept pressing the button, trying to make it feel easier. but like you say, it's sort of a choice between two broken legs, and in the moment, even the one that will heal is still pretty tough. but i hope your metaphorical leg heals fast, along with those hives. :)
Oh, evil jaundice. I am sorry he had to stay, and bring back those memories, but so so happy he's getting better!
Breastfeeding gets easier, I promise.
I am so glad you have help.
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