Nora. I certainly have a few things to say about my sweet Nora Grace. Quite simply, she is perfection. She is beautiful, for one thing.
I mean, seriously.
She is also a relatively easy-going baby, fortunately. She has been a nursing champ from day one, latching on within minutes of birth and never looking back. That fact alone is an enormous relief. Anyone who has breastfed knows what a tremendous challenge it can be - a painful, frustrating roller coaster that is, much of the time, entirely dependent upon this tiny new person's cooperation. It can take you to your wits end like nothing else you've ever experienced before (along with many other aspects of the newborn experience, let's be honest). I am SO very grateful that we haven't struggled in that department. Eli and I did struggle quite a bit in the beginning, likely as a result of the bottle feeding we were forced into during his NICU stay. But that's neither here nor there, and I'm certainly not bitter about it (yes, yes I am).
Nora's major struggle thus far has been weight gain. She was born a little peanut, at 6 lbs 9 oz. That was quite a shock to me, as every baby born into our family seems to be in the 8-9 pound range. At any rate, at 2 weeks she is just a hair shy of regaining her birth weight, at 6 lbs 8.5 oz. She peed right before that weighing, which is probably where that last 1/2 ounce went :-p Our doctor is happy with her weight, her feeding, her peeing and pooping, her color, her tone... everything! It's just tough for us not to worry, given the looming threat of Cystic Fibrosis. The test that would indicate that she may have CF is the state newborn metabolic screen - you may have heard it referred to as the "PKU" or "heel stick". As our doctor explained it, "normals" typically aren't reported for weeks to months - they get SO many samples (from every baby born across the entire state) that the "normal" pile takes a while to process. Abnormal results, on the other hand, are reported back to the pediatrician more quickly, as an abnormal result has health implications for the newborn and interventions may need to be started immediately. The fact that we haven't heard back from the state screening lab at this point is "a good sign" - it's likely that her screening was normal. But waiting around and hoping NOT to get a phone call has been rather taxing, I don't mind telling you. Especially with her slow weight gain, which is the hallmark of CF in newborns. Initial slow weight gain also happens to be relatively common in normal breastfed babies, so it doesn't mean anything with regard to CF. But it has caused us to analyze every poop and every spit-up and every 1/2 ounce of weight in either direction, and that is emotionally exhausting. But like I said, our pediatrician is thrilled with her and thinks she's doing great, so we're riding those positive vibes. We adore our pediatrician and have the utmost faith in her!
But do you know what else is exhausting? A 3 1/2 year old who just got a new sibling. WHEW. People tried to warn me. I adore my son. Love him to the moon and beyond. He will always be the beautiful, perfect little person who made me a mommy. His needs are just so dramatically amplified right now, and it's REALLY tough on a sleep-deprived and stressed-out mama of a newborn. Especially when mama is waiting on very important news regarding huge health issues for new baby. Bringing home baby #2 is so dramatically different from #1 because #1 is now a toddler with complex physical and emotional needs, whose little world has always revolved around himself, and who is now being thrust into an entirely unfamiliar and uncomfortable state of being, living at the edge of the spotlight rather than firmly planted in the center of it. I have to remind myself about 57,000 times a day of just how hard this is for him. Not only is he no longer the only child that we have to tend to, he is also dealing with his mama's physical restrictions (having had a c-section), which keep her from their normal routine in many ways.
Just last night I stayed home alone with both babies while Daddy went to Bible study. He made sure that everything was teed up for bedtime before he left, but I would be putting Eli to bed. Nora, of course, chose Eli's bedtime as an opportune moment to muster up some uncharacteristic fussiness. I was in the middle of balancing on Eli's bed (mattress on the floor) with Nora in one arm and Eli's bedtime story in the other, reading over top of her screams, when I finally decided to just go ahead and latch her on. That's the beauty of having breastfed once before (and having a cooperative nurser), by the way - multitasking is coming more naturally to me this time around! Anyway, that settled her down enough to finish Eli's story, but I couldn't turn out the lights and snuggle with him as is our routine. As soon as I unlatched her, she got right back to screaming. I turned out the lights and promised Eli that I would be back to snuggle, over his protests ("Please don't leave, Mommy!" ...ouch), and went across the hall to my bedroom to finish nursing her. She also requires some upright time after nursing to prevent spitting up, so about 15 minutes later I was finally just about ready to return to Eli's room when I heard a weak cry coming from his room. "Mommy, are you coming back? Please come back, Mommy!" Ugh. It wrecked my hormonal heart. I laid Nora in her bassinet and laid my still-aching post-c-section body down in my little boy's bed and tried not to cry on him. I apologized to him for having to leave, and talked to him about how little Nora is and how mommy is the only person who can feed her, and how I really didn't want to leave him, and how I missed him while I was gone... I tried. And he was fine. But I wasn't. It hurts me - to my core - to hurt his tender feelings. To be forced to put anyone else's needs before his. By the same token, it hurts to hear my tiny, helpless newborn scream for food that only I can provide for her. I have never before had to make a choice like that. Now, those choices are going to happen over and over, on a daily basis. I can't be everything for both of them in every moment of every day. I feel tremendously blessed to have them both, and to have given them each a sibling to treasure for life, and I wouldn't change a thing. It's just hard. I knew that it would be.
Something else that is strangely difficult and beautiful about all of this is... well... Gracie. Nora looks just like her when she sleeps (which is the bulk of our day). Nora wouldn't be here without her. I had to lose Gracie in order to have Nora, but I desperately want Gracie to be here, and I am desperately in love with Nora. Their two lives are so intertwined, and it's so simultaneously devastating and miraculous. How does a mother sort out how she feels about such circumstances? I don't think she does. I think she just lives with this bizarre and beautiful reality, with no choice but to thank God for the moment, and for the lives of these three babies that have been entrusted to her, and for the abundant blessings that have sprung from each of them. That's really all you can say. And there it is... Gracie's song just popped on the radio. Like it did when we were on the way to the hospital to meet Nora. She is ALWAYS. HERE.
Now I'm all choked up over Gracie's song and my post-partum hormones, and her little sister is stirring and ready to nurse. I plan to write about (and post some photos of) our birth experience soon. Spoiler alert: It's far less dramatic than our prior two birth experiences. And that's a VERY good thing!
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