Eli's very first, very own bedroom!

Before...

During...

After!

By now you've gathered that our first home improvement project involved green paint and wainscoting. Faux wainscoting, that is! Doesn't look half bad though, does it? It was far more complicated than we had anticipated, as is typical of all home improvement projects, but we are quite pleased with the result! 

It seemed easy enough... just paint the top part green, paint the bottom part white, hang chair rail and make squares on the wall out of trim pieces. HA! Not so simple. First you have to figure out how many squares would look good on each wall, how far apart they should be, how far from the chair rail and baseboard they should be... then use that information to calculate measurements for all of the squares. Then you have to cut all the trim pieces and the chair rail. Ask my husband about that. Actually, don't... don't bring it up. Oye. Then you start painting all those little trim pieces, only to decide you'd rather paint them on the wall. Then you hang all the trim, all the while finding out that your 45-degree angles (cut with a compound mitre saw, mind you) don't actually make 90-degree corners so you have to force the trim into squares. Then you caulk over all of the nail marks in the trim (and decide that you probably should've used wood putty instead). Then you finally start painting and cutting in around all of it, paint the baseboard, paint the wall itself with a small roller trying not to leave any roller marks or drips... and toward the end of all that God forsaken painting you think to yourself "Ya know, we could have spray painted all that trim... dang." Not to mention all the prep work that goes on ahead of time (taping, spackling, calculating). GAH! We figured it would take two or three days, but it took five!

At any rate, bebe boy's room is finally DONE and lookin' pretty fly, if you ask me ;-) All that remains is to build his furniture and decorate! We got lots of the decor items that go with his bedding set for Christmas, so we're all set to work on that next week. I really can't wait to see how it comes together! 

Speaking of Christmas... stay tuned for a Christmas post coming soon!

Adventures in Amateur Photography

I LOVE taking pictures. Especially now that I have decent equipment (a Canon T1i digital SLR, to be more specific). Adding to my enjoyment is the kick-butt editing software that I use (Adobe Photoshop Lightroom 3). It's a killer combo. I'm always learning more about my equipment, and I know that I've only barely scratched the surface of what I could do if I really put my mind to it. That's not to say that I think I'm some sort of incredible untapped talent - I just know that I haven't yet tapped the full potential of my camera!

Take Joe & Tiffany's engagement session, for example. These two, our dear friends, are getting married in August 2012.

We went out to their wedding venue one weekend and shot some engagement photos for their save-the-date cards. I went a little nuts with the opportunity to do some shooting in a pretty setting with willing subjects ;-) Now, note that my subjects are currently standing in direct sunlight. I HATE doing this to people. But my limited knowledge of fill light and of my own external flash forced me to do this in many situations. Otherwise, you end up with photos like this...

...an otherwise lovely shot, foiled by harsh shadows across the subjects' faces. This is the curse of a lovely, sunny day (when you don't know what you're doing with your own equipment and don't have the time to figure it out on the fly).

As I hinted above, I do have a nice flash set-up that I'm quite sure could have eliminated these shadows with appropriate fill light. But (a) I didn't even think of that while we were there (bright sunny days don't exactly scream "bust out the flash!" to an amateur such as myself), and (b) I wouldn't know exactly how to set up my flash to make it happen even if I had thought of it. I have got to work on that. My dad is an excellent photographer with a very in-depth understanding of these sorts of mechanics, so he and I busted out the user manual for my fancy schmancy flash yesterday and made some headway toward setting me straight.

ANYWAY, now that I've sufficiently explained myself and my lighting issues, I'll share a few more of my favorites.

I like sepia. Had you noticed? Haha! Anyway Joe, Tiff and their families were very happy with the photos, so that's all I really need to be concerned with at the end of the day. I'm so glad that I was able to give them a nice set of photos to commemorate this special time, without them having to pay for a professional session. I have quite a bit of work to do as far as my own skills are concerned, but I'm obviously sorta proud of these (since I'm now blasting them onto the internet)! I hope to have the opportunity to do this sort of thing more often - it's so much fun!

A Bonner Family Christmas

I almost forgot that I had promised cute family Christmas photos in a previous post! Two weeks ago, we got together at my in-laws' for a now-annual Christmas Cookie Bake with Ben's mom and sisters. Before we got ourselves all covered in dough and flour, my sister-in-law Emily and I dressed up our hubbies and littles and ventured into the backyard for an amateur family portrait session. The results were pretty darn cute, if I do say so myself! Below are some of my favorites, taken by my sister-in-law... 

If you're on my Christmas card list, you may recognize a few of these! Obviously, they're too cute not to share with everyone we know ;-)

What's Up at 8 Weeks?

What are we up to these days?

Smiling...

...Stretching...

 ...Snoozing...

 ...Smooching...

...lots of general cuteness!

It's hard to believe that my teeny weeny beeeebee boy is 8 weeks old! He's sleeping very well - sometimes as long as 7 hours at a time overnight - and seems to have a good grasp on bedtime. He's always willing to lay down and go to sleep for the night around 10:30, even for Daddy (with a bottle of pumped milk)! As an aside, I will confess that I've felt very guilty the few times that he has gone to bed with a bottle :'( It really works out well - I get to enjoy a glass of wine, Daddy gets to enjoy partaking in the bedtime ritual, and baby boy takes no issue with this - yet I feel guilty nonetheless. I guess I must think that he secretly wishes he could nurse with Mommy at bedtime, but wants to be cooperative or doesn't want to hurt Daddy's feelings or something so he doesn't protest. Clearly this is silliness... I need to get over it and relish the fact that he feels so comfortable with his Daddy and is such an easy-going little guy! Maybe part of me wants him to only want Mommy at bedtime... yeah, that's probably it. Also silliness. I should be thrilled that he's so flexible! I'm sure it will come in handy! It's very possible that he will develop more of an attachment to a particular bedtime routine (like nursing, for example) as he becomes more aware of the routine - he's still a little young for that. I should just enjoy this while it lasts!

He seems to be outgrowing the digestive troubles that made him a little extra fussy after feedings, so we've been able to discontinue use of the Mylicon drops that we were giving him at just about every feeding. They're supposed to be safe enough to use up to 12 times a day, but I hate to give him any medication that he doesn't absolutely need so I'm thrilled to be done with that. 

His heinous diaper rash has also cleared up, thanks to the miracle of simple A&D ointment! We were using the old stand-by Desitin - thick, pasty white crap that gets on everything and never ever wipes off completely until bathtime! I'm obviously not the biggest fan, but it seemed necessary so I used it. It's a zinc oxide ointment and is supposed to repel moisture and create a barrier over the baby's skin to prevent further irritation to allow the skin to heal. When I noticed the breaking skin I figured that some A&D ointment - much like Neosporin, sans antibacterial ingredient - would help to heal the skin while the Desitin helped to protect it from further damage, so I was doubling up with both ointments. I noticed a marked improvement in the redness within two or three applications, so I stuck with that combo for a few days. It says right on the tube that A&D works both to heal and protect, so at some point I decided to try and see if we could drop the Desitin altogether since the A&D really should be able to handle the job that I had assumed would require something pastier like Desitin. Sure enough, that did it. I think that the A&D alone did a better job than doubling up! Maybe the Desitin itself was irritating his skin, or maybe the extra wiping I was having to do to clean up the paste at every changing was slowing the healing, but in any case, I'm an A&D convert. I've been using it regularly to prevent any reoccurances, and his cute lil tushy is looking healthy as ever!

Anyway, back to the sleeping... this is really a double-edged sword. I should be thrilled to have such a good little sleeper on my hands, but as these long stints are becoming more than just every-now-and-then occurances, I'm getting more and more paranoid about my cycle resuming. I know that it's terribly unlikely at this stage (particularly with my first baby), but I also know that if I'm serious about preventing another pregnancy, I can't rely on breastfeeding as long as he's going longer than 6 hours between feedings at night. Should I set an alarm and get him up to nurse? Or should I enjoy my sleep and start charting again? I really don't want to end up in an "Irish twins" kind of situation! I'm getting excited to resume my medical studies in the Fall (though not at all excited to have to put Eli into some sort of daycare... but that's another issue for another post!), and I would really prefer not to have a wrench thrown into that. I'm committed to becoming a doctor, and I really want to get this training chapter over with so that I can move on with my career. Plus my husband would go through the roof. Or jump off of it. ANYWAY, I'm leaning toward starting up the charting again, because I really like sleep. And who am I to disturb a sleeping baby?! I was just hoping to be able to rely on breastfeeding for a while. Oh well. Boo.

In other news... the big move is upon us! This time next week, we'll be in our new home unpacking to Christmas tunes :-) We're SURROUNDED by boxes...

...but the packing is almost complete thanks to a kick-start from my mother-in-law and sister-in-law last week. I did A LOT of work during the week and Ben and I packed like fiends this past weekend. My mom is coming to help wrap things up (pun intended!) this Thursday and Friday, and then on Saturday morning our massive crew of 15 or so friends and family will arrive to make quick work of this big job. We're so blessed to have so many willing volunteers! I bet they'll have the truck loaded by the time I get back from dropping off the cats and the baby at the new house (with my mother-in-law). It's only a one-bedroom apartment! I certainly won't complain - the truck loading part sorta overwhelms me, and no one is going to let me do much anyway (apparently almost 9 weeks of c-section recovery isn't enough!). I guess next time I write, it'll be with photos of our new digs! Stay tuned... 

The Best News I Ever Got, and Other Updates

First things first... the official word is in, and Eli DOES NOT have Cystic Fibrosis! While we suspected as much, given his above-average weight gain and general good health, it was still a huge relief to know for sure. It feels great to have all of the question marks put to rest, at long last. It's been quite a journey, from 8 weeks along when we found out that I was a CF carrier to 20 weeks when the multicystic dysplastic kidney was diagnosed to 6 weeks post-partum when we finally got the last test result that we were waiting on. GAH! So many tears and so many prayers. But here were are - we made it through to the other side and we have a beautiful, happy, healthy baby to show for it :-)

Speaking of a happy baby...

...our little one is SMILING! These photos of course don't capture the full range of his mad smiling skillz - God forbid we give Mommy any BIG grins while the camera is out - but they're pretty cute, nonetheless. He has also slept "through the night" (as defined by sleeping uninterrupted for 6 hours) a few times, which is fabulous! He will usually lay back down for another 2-3 hours after that early morning feeding as well, so I'm getting to sleep from around midnight til 8 or 9 with just ONE feeding in between. I feel like a new woman. And I'm probably jinxing myself.

In other news, he's got a pretty nasty diaper rash right now which has me on the verge of taking the plunge into cloth diapering a little sooner than I had originally planned (one of the major benefits of using Fuzzibunz cloth diapers is that, for many babies, they completely cure diaper rash). I feel like he has had some degree of diaper rash - ranging from mild redness to flaming redness with spots of broken skin - for weeks now. The severity rises and falls with the Desitin use, but right now it's definitely at its worst and it just breaks my heart to see his poor little butt looking like that! It doesn't cover a large area, but where there is a rash it's a nasty one. I was trying to put off cloth diapering until he was going through fewer diapers per day, but it's getting bad enough that I just might go ahead and start using them. Let's face it - if I have a potential solution to a problem (a problem that is causing harm to my baby!) and I don't at least try it... well, some might call that downright neglectful. At least that's how I'm starting to feel! Of course I just bought 168 disposables yesterday, so perhaps we'll burn through some of those first. It won't take long! And I'll certainly need to keep disposables on hand anyway, for times when the Fuzzibunz just aren't practical or I run out of clean ones before I get a chance to do a load of laundry.

Entirely unrelated to cloth diapering, but also a pretty big deal, is the fact that we're moving in TWO WEEKS. Oye. Ask me how much packing we've done! Actually, please don't. It makes me want to curl up in a ball in the floor. I'd really like to go through things and pare down the "stuff" - I know that there's a good deal of crap in here that does not need to be re-located to our new home, in which I hope to start fresh with a more minimalist approach - but at this point I may not have time for all that. I suppose I can always go through things as we unpack, but it seems silly to move things that we don't even want. While it's true that I am home all day, I usually only get about 2 good naps out of him during the hours before Ben gets home (the rest is feeding, diapering, playing in the floor, and calming fussiness, with a few cat naps thrown in there for good measure). In those longer stints of sleep, I have to find time to put myself together (this helps me feel more human), wash a few dishes, maybe run a load of laundry, make and eat lunch, get some studying done... and if we need to go out and run any errands, that easily takes up one nap. There's just not a lot of time to get into something as involved as packing, especially since it's something that tends to make a mess (so if it gets interrupted by a crying baby, I have to leave said mess as it sits. Which irks me. A lot.). I just prefer to do something like that when we're both around. Anyway, the moral of the story is... we have GOT to get on that. STAT.

Alright, my sleeping baby is stirring, so this incredibly random post must draw to a rather abrupt close. Hope to have some cute family Christmas photos to share soon...

4am

As much as I thought I treasured sleep, now I treasure these dark, sleepy moments with you. One day you won't need me like this anymore. I won't get to listen to your sweet, breathy baby sounds and feel your little fists and fingers happily squirming against my chest. I won't watch your sleepy head bobble around while I burp you and steal countless little kisses on your cheeks and your temples. You won't snuggle up belly-down against my chest to fall asleep with a full belly and a contented sigh. When I (sometimes grudgingly) awaken from a deep sleep to engage in this little ritual of ours, I hope that I never take it for granted. I am so blessed to be able to give you this gift, and to receive such sweet little gifts from you in return. And though you'll never remember them, our quiet moments together in these dark hours are forging a special bond between you and I. I'd never trade that for all the sleep in the world.

Giving Thanks

I try to make sure that every day is like a mini-Thanksgiving in my life. I make a conscious effort to be truly grateful for the blessings that God has chosen to bestow upon me, and to let Him know about it. Even if, in my end-of-the-day exhaustion, I only make it 30 seconds into my nightly prayer, I always start with the 'thank you for...' part (though lately, I'll admit, I sometimes start with 'Please please please let him stay asleep!'). I try to remember to give thanks throughout the day as I find myself appreciating something, whether it be a beautiful day outside, pretty scenery on a long drive, or the weight of my baby boy asleep on my chest.

The bottom line is, even in the worst of circumstances, we always have something to be thankful for each and every second of the day - the breath in our lungs and the beating of our hearts. Our lives here on Earth. I know in my logical mind that Heaven is our true home and that it will make this life look like pretty small potatoes in comparison, but it's still an unknown. I can't imagine anything feeling better than the best moments I've had here on Earth, because God's design for this life really wasn't too shabby and it's all I know. Sure, terrible things happen down here. But the tragedies make the sweet moments all the sweeter. They give us true perspective and allow us to better appreciate even the smallest of blessings, which in turn makes our lives so much richer. So while I know that the best is yet to come, I'm so thankful for this experience that God has chosen to give us - the experience of an Earthly life. And so every breath and every beat is a blessing in my eyes, even though I know that what awaits me at the end of that road is going to be indescribably wonderful. I'm thankful to have experienced the love of family and my true love's kiss and my baby's coos and giggles in his sleep and all the sunny Fall days and the smell of fresh cut grass... all these uniquely human experiences that we only get to enjoy in our brief time here on Earth.

I haven't had much personal tragedy in my life, and perhaps that would change my feelings on just how wonderful (or not so wonderful) I perceive this life to be. But for now, I'm drinking it all in with the biggest gulps I can manage, and with a very thankful heart. As my baby boy snoozes here on my chest and my husband sleeps peacefully next to me in our cozy bed, I know that love alone is worth all the tough stuff that life sometimes throws our way. The experience of love is enough to make me stop and count my blessings, today and every day.

Happy Thanksgiving!

One Magical Month

It's official... we have a one-month-old! As is typical when you try to get anything done with a one-month-old around, this post is (of course) a day late. It's been one CRAZY crazy month, but he has certainly won us over in a big way!

Life has definitely gotten easier with time, as our seasoned veteran friends and family assured us it would. The first two weeks were the most difficult - he just didn't "get" the whole day vs. night thing, breastfeeding was a challenge, he was fussy more often than he wasn't, we hadn't gotten to know his cries or what soothed him, we were exhausted and our patience was worn pretty thin... it was a recipe for lots of frustration! But over the past two weeks, he has more-or-less settled into a pattern of behavior that is relatively predictable and manageable. I've learned to recognize his cries - hungry vs. gassy vs. I-just-want-mommy-to-hold-me - and have learned what positions he likes to be held in and when he's likely to be soothed by a pacifier... things like that. Getting to know him has not only made him easier to manage, but has done worlds of good for our sanity and patience. When you know what to expect, it's much easier to handle. When you know why he's upset and you know that you can fix it, you feel much more "in control". We spent those first difficult days feeling helpless, and that was part of what made it so tough.

Now we're able to spend more time enjoying each other (as opposed to just co-existing!) which has helped to bring back a sense of normalcy to our lives. One of the toughest adjustments for us was losing that "just us" time, and now that we're better able to manage him, we're getting more of that peaceful, simple, snuggle-on-the-couch time that we were missing in the beginning. One of the most important ingredients of a healthy, happy childhood is having parents with a healthy, happy relationship, so I try hard to make sure that our marriage doesn't get lost in the chaotic shuffle of life with an infant.

We're also able to spend more time enjoying him these days, and marveling at just how perfect and amazing he really is! He's starting to spend more time awake each day, and is showing interest in hanging toys, contrasting colors, flashing lights and music (oh, and the TV!). He loves his pacifier and loves to snuggle on his belly on Mommy or Daddy's chest. He's rarely happy being held in the crook of your arm like a baby - he always wants to be upright and looking around. Nursing has become second nature and he eats like a champ - he hasn't been weighed since his 2-week check up (9 lbs 2 oz), but he's outgrowing his newborn clothes and diapers so I'm quite sure he has topped 10 pounds by now. He's also starting to coo and gurgle which is simply adorable, and is focusing on our faces particularly when we talk to him.

It's been a wild, life-changing ride, but we wouldn't change it for anything - we have a perfect baby boy that we simply adore, and our home is just overflowing with love as we fall head-over-heels for him and deeper in love with each other. It's pretty darn sweet!

Never Wake a Sleeping Baby...

...at least not until you've snapped a few (zillion) photos ;-)

Kidney Update

Just writing with an update on the little man's kidney, now that we've finally completed the series of tests that our pediatric urologist ordered...

First was an ultrasound of his kidneys, which was done in the hospital the day he was born and confirmed the presence of an enlarged, multicystic kidney.

In an isolette for the trip from the NICU to radiology for his VCUG at 2 days old

Next was a VCUG, also done in the hospital, which showed no reflux of urine from the bladder back up the ureter toward the kidney - good news. Today he had a DMSA renal scan at Johns Hopkins to take a look at the blood flow to his kidneys.

At 3 weeks old, he slept like an angel for the entire renal scan

We were hoping that there would be some residual function, but the expectation was that there would be little to none since a true multicystic dysplastic kidney isn't really made up of real kidney tissue (it's basically just primordial tissue that never differentiated into functional kidney tissue). Unfortunately the results were as expected - the multicystic kidney is not functional. Though that was the expected outcome, it was still a little disappointing as we were holding out hope that the appearance of the kidney on ultrasound was due to a fixable blockage (which the urologist had told us does happen, in rare cases). I knew that it wasn't terribly likely, but I still hoped. At any rate, all of the tests have led to the conclusion that his left kidney is not (nor will it ever be) functional, and our little guy will be living his life with only one healthy kidney.

It's sad, but as I've said over and over, it is what we were told to expect. We've already had the opportunity to grieve over it and internalize it, and it is what it is. As our wonderful urologist has said over and over, his one good kidney will last him until he's 95 and drops dead of a heart attack - it's not something that's going to shorten his lifespan or anything horrible like that. We'll just have to be a little more careful about watching for symptoms of urinary tract problems. He also won't be able to play certain particularly dangerous contact sports (football, lacrosse, wrestling...). But since his Daddy will be grooming him for the PGA tour as soon as he can stand and hold a golf club, I'm hoping he'll be far too into golf to get upset about that ;-) It might be cliche, but the fact that he's an otherwise healthy, happy, adorable baby boy truly is the most important thing!

Life with a Newborn

...is overwhelming! Sometimes you're feeling overwhelming joy and pride, sometimes it's overwhelming frustration and desperation. There's no "preparing" for it - it's 100% on-the-job training. And I'm not talking about the practical aspects of diapering and feeding and dressing and generally caring for a newborn - those things, you can sort of prepare for. Exposure to newborns through friends and family, child care classes... there are ways to prepare oneself. What you absolutely cannot prepare yourself for with your first child is the complete and total TAKE OVER that occurs as soon as that little life enters yours. I can tell you all about how Eli has taken over our lives - how our schedule revolves around his, how our sleep schedule directly correlates with his mood and temperament during any given hour, how our conversations and activities have suddenly become 97% baby-related. But that really doesn't even begin to address the ways that he has changed my life.

Suddenly, my future is completely wrapped up in him. Whether I'm thinking about the next hour or the next 10 years, he is a part of it and will most likely dictate how things will go. Even while I was pregnant and knew he was on the way, that reality never set in for me. At least not like this! When I'm feeling overwhelmed by the challenges of breastfeeding or sleep deprivation, I also have to accept that these challenges are ours and ours alone to bear - no one is coming to take him to his real parents (which is what it sometimes feels like - like surely they wouldn't give us a baby to take care of!)... we're it! I also have to accept that I have little control, in the grand scheme of things, over when these challenges will get easier. I can do my best, ask other moms and doctors for advice, but at the end of the day this tiny little boy is in control of it all... and he's not even in control of himself! Scary, right?! It's a lot to handle, particularly in the wee hours of the night when he's screaming his head off for no apparent reason (which, admittedly, has only happened once or twice)! You very quickly learn to force yourself to live in the moment and to banish all thoughts pertaining to the future, because honestly, the future is just too much to handle right now. We're new at this and very unfamiliar with the course of how things will go - our only reference is this past week of our lives (which has been one heck of a roller coaster!), and thinking about moving or starting back to work or going back to medical school is WAY too overwhelming within that context. We just have to trust that as our little boy grows and we settle into a family routine, those things will become more and more manageable. People do this every day, right?!

All that said, we are truly in love with our beautiful baby. I don't mean to sound all "Negative Nancy" about life with a newborn... just being realistic about the massive changes that he has brought to our mindset and to our everyday lives. Looking at him in all his glorious perfection... it doesn't necessarily make you forget all about the challenges and the moments of complete and utter frustration, but it does put those things into a different perspective. Looking at him makes it all OK. It makes it all so "worth it"... beyond "worth it". It's not really a feeling that one can describe in words. In my experience, I think the closest I could come is to describe it as a calming effect. It's not so much the overwhelming love I feel for him (though of course I do feel overwhelming love for him!), but rather the calming effect that he has on me that has the power to alter my perspective. His perfect little face as he sleeps... the ways his little lips move or how his forehead wrinkles up from time to time or the little infant "smiles" that completely light up his face out of nowhere... it just relaxes the tension right out of me and recharges my ability to handle the next challenge. "It's a good thing you're so darn cute" is something that parents often say because it's completely true - if they weren't able to affect us in that way, we'd reach the end of our pitiful ropes in no time!

I can't say yet whether I think that Eli is a "high maintenance" or "low maintenance" baby. For one thing, I have no reference point to compare him to. We also haven't had much time to really detect any patterns. So far things are definitely on the upswing, but I can imagine that that might change at the drop of a hat! Our first few nights with the little guy were definitely rough - more waking than sleeping. Getting used to breastfeeding was a big part of that. He'd wake up hungry and it was such a struggle to get him latched and feeding that he'd get hysterical in the process and we'd keep having to calm him down. He was also having formula in the NICU, as I mentioned in my last post, which I think contributed to a lot of gas and fussiness as that worked its way out of his system. Now that he's nursing better and hasn't had any formula for almost a week, he's doing much better. He wakes up every 2 1/2 or 3 hours to eat (or we wake him up, to avoid him waking up truly starved and already hysterical!), and now that eating isn't such a struggle we're only up for 40 minutes or an hour to feed, burp and change him. Every now and then he'll get a little fussy after eating if he needs to burp (or fart!) again and I'll have to bounce or rock him a little more to settle him down, but he usually eats and passes out. It really only works out to 2 or 3 wakings a night, since we tend to stay up until his 11 or 12 o'clock feeding. He'll wake up in the 2-3 o'clock hour and again in the 5-6 o'clock hour, and then his next waking is pretty much "morning". He'll usually go back to sleep again after that too, so we've been staying in bed until as late as 11 (which is how we can stay up til 11 or 12 at night)!

During the day, he's having more and more "awake and content" time, as I like to call it. For about the first week, if he was awake and not eating he was mad, and he pretty much slept between feedings. He still naps a lot during the day, but he's doing a lot more peaceful observation of the world now. I think he's starting to adjust to life outside the womb and the fussiness is dropping off a little as a result. That seems to be helping our bonding process too, as he spends more time checking us out and getting more and more familiar with our faces and voices. He seems to prefer Ben when he's upset, which sorta hurts my feelings if we're being completely honest! I think he just associates me with food (and I probably smell like it!), so if I'm holding him he thinks he should be eating. I've heard many women lament the early days of breastfeeding and feeling like they've become nothing but a food source, and that's definitely where I find myself at this point. I'm SO glad that Ben can comfort him and that they're bonding so well, but I'm also selfishly looking forward to the day that he shows a preference for mommy ;-)

That pretty much sums things up, I think... and this post is long enough. I'll leave you with a cute photo, just for fun :-) This is Eli with his great grandma yesterday...

Our (Horrific) Birth Story

Our sweet baby boy is here! Baby Eli was born on Tuesday October 18th at 4:18am, weighing 7 lbs 14 oz and measuring 20 inches long. He's utterly perfect, as I'm sure you expected ;-)

Our birth experience, however, was far from "perfect". Ironic how I had just written a post about our birth plan, approximately NONE of which held up in the end. It is what it is, and I knew from the get-go that things don't always turn out the way we hope they will... but this was just horrific. I'll start from the beginning.

I woke up at about 4:45am on Monday morning to my water breaking. It wasn't a gush, but I could feel that something was leaking (and it wasn't urine)! YAY! In retrospect, I really wish that wasn't how my labor got started, but at that point I was so excited to get things underway that I was thrilled with the progress. I called the midwife who told me to get some more rest and come in to the office to be checked out at 8:30, since I wasn't contracting regularly yet. I let the hubs sleep until his work alarm went off, and then informed him that he wouldn't be going in to work that day! Of course we didn't sleep much more, and around 7:30 we packed up the car, left extra food for the cats and headed to the office, where my water breaking theory was confirmed. I was told to head over to the mall or something and do some walking for a few hours, since my contractions were still irregular and infrequent (I was only having about 3 an hour), and to check in at the hospital around 11am - so that's what we did. We made a Build-A-Bear for him while we were there :-)

Around 11:30am we arrived at L&D and got settled into a room. When the midwife on-call came in to talk with us around 1:00pm she let us know that we'd probably need to start Pitocin soon to get things rolling, since there was still no real pattern to my contractions, I was dilated less than a centimeter, and my water had been broken for over 8 hours. For those of you who aren't super-familiar with labor complications, the goal is to deliver within 24 hours of the water breaking, because the risk of infection in the uterus increases dramatically once the amniotic sac is ruptured. Keep that little factoid on the front burner... it will come up again later. So we started the Pitocin, which certainly got things going. I really didn't want Pitocin - I had heard that it produces super-intense contractions and wasn't looking forward to that - but I certainly understood that it was necessary at that point. I did some walking in the hallways with my IV pole, but the monitors kept slipping around and they kept losing the baby's heart rate, so that didn't last long. By 4:00pm I was definitely in a regular pattern and the contractions were... uncomfortable. I won't even begin to use the term "pain" at this point.

I had family in the room all day, since I wasn't in a ton of pain and we were more-or-less just hanging around waiting for things to progress. Both of our moms and Hubs' oldest sister were there, which kept us entertained for a good while. His other sister came around 7 and brought me an exercise ball, by request, as I was hoping that being able to shift my weight around would relieve some of the back labor that I was having. I don't know if it was the exercise ball or if the timing was just coincidental, but within about 20 minutes of sitting on the exercise ball, I was suddenly in AGONY. Crying, nauseous agony. By 7:30 I was requesting an epidural, which was fine with me - I had planned to labor without it as long as possible, and I had certainly waited a long time at that point and was rapidly approaching the end of "possible", as far as laboring without pain medication was concerned. My wonderful midwife was more than happy to help me out, and started things in motion for the epidural right away.

Fifteen minutes later - by which point I was in SERIOUS pain and getting maybe 30 seconds of relief between contractions (damn you, Pitocin!) - my midwife comes at me with "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but... the anesthesiologist just got called in for an emergency c-section, so it may be another hour." HOLY HELL. I cried. We were offered Nubain (a general narcotic) to take the edge off which I was originally going to take, until the nurse informed me that it could depress the baby's respiration after birth and he might very well land in the NICU for a time. I cried again, but had to reject it. As much as I needed that relief, I wanted him with me (and NOT in the NICU) more. My husband was a fantastic labor partner and helped me breathe through the agony for a while. I'm pretty sure that without him, I would've just hyperventilated, sobbed and died. Luckily, my SAINT of a nurse was able to get general anesthesiology to send someone to stand-in during the c-section once it was started so that my anesthesiologist could come in and get my epidural placed. It was still 8:30pm by the time I was finally comfortable, but BOY did that thing work fast! It was like magic! At that point my midwife checked my progress, and I was 5 cm dilated and 100% effaced - perfectly satisfactory to me.

From that point on, I labored comfortably for several hours. I could see the contractions on the monitor, but couldn't feel a thing! We visited with family a little more, got some rest, and geared up for the big push. Every now and then I'd start to feel twinges during contractions and back pain on the side of me that was propped up (I was on my back, partially propped with a pillow under one side), so I'd switch sides and click my medication button to get another dose through my epidural. When I finally started feeling that "urge to push" pressure around 2:00am Tuesday, my midwife came in and checked my progress again - 10 cm and ready to push!

And so we started pushing. At first it was fine - I really wasn't feeling anything - but by the 4th or 5th contraction I was starting to feel them, and it HURT. A few more contractions later, I felt like I was back at square one, as if I'd never gotten the epidural. I was in SO much pain... I can't even describe it. I wondered if it was even possible to survive it. Again, thank God for my husband breathing through the contractions with me! My midwife had the anesthesiologist come back in and give me another "bolus" dose of medication in my epidural. After giving it about 15 minutes to start working, it became clear that it wasn't going to help.

By this point I had vomited from the pain and was reaching my breaking point. It was then that my nurse took my temperature, to find that I had spiked a 101.3 fever. Apparently the standard diagnosis for a fever during labor with ruptured membranes for nearly 24 hours is uterine infection. The midwife then informed us that, as a result of this "infection", the baby would automatically be sent to the NICU for a minimum of 3 days, possibly as many as 7. As if the overwhelming pain wasn't enough, now we were both falling apart over the news that we would be separated from our baby for days - that we might not get to take him home when we left the hospital. I tried to push through one more contraction, but the pain was simply unbearable. I felt like I could barely breathe through it, much less actively push through it. The baby's head was SO low, I was fully dilated, but I just couldn't physically (or emotionally) do it. I was practically hysterical by this point between the pain of the failed epidural, the emotional blow of the NICU news and the brimming realization that I was going to end up with a c-section. I felt like a failure, and I cried over it a lot, but we elected the c-section. My super-supportive husband did a great job of making me feel good about the decision, but it's so hard not to feel like a failure when so many other women seem able to do it with no problem.

Within about 20 minutes, we were rolling into the OR for the c-section. Those 20 minutes were pure agony, and all I wanted was to get in there and get whatever medication it was that they were going to give me to finally numb me up. I vomited again when we arrived in the OR. When they finally gave me the whopping dose of pain medication (which made me feel very light-headed and slurred my speech for a few minutes - which scared the crap out of me), it did numb me up - temporarily at least. It was wonderful to have some relief, and for a moment I finally had the time and energy to get excited about the impending arrival of our baby boy. He would be here so soon! Ben came in and sat by my head, and they got started with the first incision.

Much of the story from here on is Ben's account, because I was so out of it for most of the procedure. I was still quite groggy from the massive dose of pain medication, but I was trying my best to stay awake and present. But as the pulling and tugging went on, I started to feel more and more pain. I tried to tell them that it hurt, to which they responded "I know honey, it's a lot of pressure", to which I responded "NO, it HURTS! I feel PAIN!" I'm 25 years old, and I know the difference between "pressure" and "pain". I could feel burning at the edges of the incision, like flesh tearing. I felt pangs of sharp stabbing pain where they were pulling and tugging. It was PAIN. The nurse anesthetist started giving me extra doses of pain medication through the epidural line, but it just got worse and worse. According to Ben, I would go from out cold and snoring to suddenly yelling out in pain. I was actually pulling my legs up in reaction to the pain (umm... should I be able to move my legs...? I think NOT!). They just kept pumping me full of more and more pain medication, and I just kept sobbing and suffering. At one point Ben had to yell at them to do something when the anesthesiology team had stepped away from the table and I started crying out again. He was in total shambles himself, watching me go through it all, but I remember him being right there talking to me and breathing with me through the pain. The OB wouldn't even stop briefly to let the medication set in when the nurse anesthetist asked her to. I think she knew that the epidural had failed and that her only option was to hurry up and get the baby out so that they could safely knock me out altogether.

When the baby was born (at 4:18am), they didn't even bother to lift him up over the drape so that we could see him. Neither of us even knew that he'd come out until he finally cried over in the other corner of the room and someone asked Ben if he'd like to go see him. Ben went to take pictures, and they kept working on me, and it kept on hurting. They quickly brought the baby over to me so that I could see him, give him a few kisses and take a few photos. I have only very vague memories of meeting my little boy for the first time, which is probably the worst part of all of this as I look back on it.

I was so full of pain medication that I had to fight to keep my eyes open to look at him. The nurse had to hold my hand on him for me to touch him.

I feel so robbed of that "first moment" - I never got to have him come out of me and see him immediately and make that instant connection. I felt like it took days for me to really "bond" with him, especially with him being in the NICU. I didn't even get to hold him for the first time until about 5 hours later.

In the recovery room, the B**CH obstetrician that did my surgery oh-so-casually informed me that all of my future deliveries would have to be c-sections, because once they got in there they could see that the opening in my pelvis was too small to deliver through. So it turns out that I made the right choice - it would have been a c-section eventually even if I had continued trying to push. But of course I didn't know that when I made the decision, so I still feel like a bit of a failure for not trying harder. The sane part of me knows that I did all that I physically could. And it's not like I saved myself any suffering by electing the c-section from HELL!

When B**CH OB left the room after about a 30-second conversation and Ben followed her into the hallway to ask her a question about the procedure, she found it necessary to let him know that, by the way, she didn't think that he did a very good job in the OR, and he should have held it together better for me. ????!!!!!!??????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is no string of expletives long or strong enough for my feelings about that comment. I thought he was absolutely amazing. He fought through his own tears to talk me through the pain, every step of the way. He never once turned away from the entire horrific scene, he advocated for me when I needed him... he was an absolute rock for me. So what if he cried. I remember being comforted by the fact that he was experiencing it all with me and that it was affecting him so much too. She's just mad that
he yelled at her. The hospital and the OB/GYN practice will be getting a strongly worded letter from me.

I never did spike a fever again, but I got a bunch of antibiotics anyway. I don't think I ever had an infection. I understand that they want to err on the conservative side and treat for the worst-case scenario, but putting a perfectly healthy baby in the NICU for 3 days is just horrendous. He didn't fit in at all. By mid-day he was out from under the warmer in a regular bassinet with nothing but heart rate and respiration rate monitors hooked up. He had an IV inserted but wasn't hooked up to anything - never needed any fluids - they just used it to give him his antibiotic doses to treat any potential infection that he may have been exposed to.

Given the state I was in post-surgery (traumatized and drugged, plus a 24-hour dose of morphine that I was given when I woke up at the end of the procedure which made me incredibly groggy for the entire day), I wasn't able to go and breastfeed him immediately and so he was started on formula supplementation. Exactly what I didn't want. I started pumping and breastfeeding when I could later that afternoon, but since they're super-hyper about feeding in the NICU, they still insisted on supplementing with formula. Maybe I should've been more insistent myself, but they told me that he'd be kept longer if he wasn't establishing a good feeding pattern (as measured by the amount he was taking in per day) and so he had to stick to a strict feeding schedule (no spending an hour fussing around with learning to breastfeed - 20 minutes max per feeding). Luckily my pre-milk supply was great and I was able to pump lots to bottle feed him, so we'd breastfeed for 20 minutes, do a bottle of whatever milk I had pumped to give him, and finish up with whatever amount of formula he'd take. Unfortunately, that whole thing introduced him to the wonders of bottle feeding (the "easy way" to get what he wants when he's hungry!), which would only prove to complicate things as we learned to breastfeed.

The other thing about this NICU is that they only allow 2 visitors per bedside, and Ben and I were included in that count. And if anyone other than the two of us wanted to visit, one of us still had to be there. So (a) Ben and I had to separate, and (b) it was pretty much limited to one visitor at a time. It sucked, a lot. Not to mention the fact that we were in a room in the "maternal-child unit" listening to all the other babies cry, with no baby in our room. Knowing how healthy he was and how well he was doing made it that much more frustrating - we knew he didn't need to be there. Luckily we had some amazing NICU nurses that we really bonded with and that made the experience a bit more bearable.

Before leaving the NICU he did have a renal ultrasound that confirmed the multicystic dysplastic kidney diagnosis, and a VCUG to assess his ureters for any urine reflux (backward movement of urine from the bladder toward the kidneys), which was negative. He was finally discharged on Thursday evening around 7pm and made it to our room, which was a huge relief!

Of course that night wasn't nearly as restful as the previous two, but we were so thrilled to have him with us... it was totally worth it. It was rough to be walking the floor with him all night while still healing from a c-section though, I'll say that! Of course Ben has taken to daddy-hood like a true natural, and has been an incredible help. I really shouldn't even say that he's a help to me or that I'm a help to him, because it's been such an even split of effort - he has stepped up in such a huge way from day one. He's such a WONDERFUL daddy, and I'm just falling deeper in love with him every day.

We were discharged late Friday afternoon and finally headed home with our handsome little man...

At his first pediatrician appointment on Monday, he had already gained over half a pound on his birth weight (the doc was quite impressed with our little porker!) and came away with a clean bill of health! We're so proud of him. He's just the picture of perfection, bum kidney or not. He's weaving his way deeper into our hearts every day, and his little smiles are quickly dulling the memory of his less-than-ideal birth. It's hard to believe he's finally here. He's all we were hoping for, and so much more.