I Have Created a Monster

I have never, in all my 37 years, met a baby as bad at sleeping as Emma. Holy moly. She's 6 and a half months old, and is still waking every 2-3 hours most nights. She was taking a pacifier for the first 5 months, but right around the 5 month mark she decided she no longer likes them. Any of them. We've tried at least 4 different kinds. She either cries, chews on it, or just spits it out. Almost like she's forgotten what it's for. The only thing that will get this kid back to sleep is boob. She is literally attached to one all night long, from the time she first wakes (usually around 12 anymore, sometimes earlier) until the time she's awake for the day (anywhere from 7-9). With at least 1-2 wake ups in between. She's not awake long, just long enough to pop it back in & she goes merrily on her way back to slumberland. But it is exhausting. I haven't had a full night of sleep in well over a year now. Cause you know, pregnancy. Then this adorable little ball of mischief.

Naps are really hit or miss too. Some days she'll take 1.5-2hr naps. Other days 15-30min. And then there's some days where she doesn't nap at all. Those are the worst. Then she is so so so tired that all she wants to do is cry. I don't understand why babies cry when they're tired. When I'm tired, I just sleep. I don't cry about it for hours.

We started solids at dinnertime now as well, about a week ago. I thought that would help her sleep better too. But nope. I can't be sure, but I think she may be sleeping even worse now. Or perhaps it just seems worse. I keep telling myself, it's going to get better. Soon she will be sleeping through the night. She actually was doing 5-6hr stretches for a bit. I don't know what happened to that. It seems so long ago. Some days I try to grab a quick nap while she sleeps. But those usually end up being the days were she naps for 17 minutes, and wakes up just as I'm falling asleep. Which ends up just making me more tired.

I've even considered giving her a bottle of formula *gasp* before bed, to see if that would help. I've heard formula fed babies generally sleep better. But I just haven't been able to bring myself to do it.

At her 6 month appointment, her doctor didn't seem concerned with her sleeping patterns. So I guess in some upside down world it's "normal". It's just very weird to me, as the other two slept through the night basically their whole lives.

Yawn.

She's NOT Still Pretty

I'm ashamed to say that when Emma was new, I didn't want to take her out in public. I was too afraid of what people might say, or the looks she would get. I was protecting her. Or perhaps I was protecting myself. I am happy to say I have outgrown that stage.

Luckily, most people we have encountered so far just say the usual. She's adorable! Oh how cute! She's so pretty! Etc, etc, etc... There have only been a few people who have even asked about her birthmark, aside from small children, who are naturally always curious. This doesn't bother me so much, I just tell them it's a birthmark, she was born with it - to adults and children alike.

What does bother me, however, is the response that comes back. "Well she's still pretty". I know this statement is not meant to be malicious in any way. I get that. It's just that word there in the middle. Still. Or anyway. Like, "But she's beautiful anyway". No. Just no. My baby is beautiful. Just beautiful. Not beautiful despite anything. Not beautiful even though something. She is just beautiful.

We don't go around telling people that they're still pretty even though they have a big nose. Or they're so cute despite the wrinkles on their forehead. Or their teeth are crooked but they're still beautiful anyway. So what makes her birthmark any different? It's not. And just because it's not something most people see every day, or ever for that matter, it still doesn't make it ok. I don't want her to develop a stigma for her mark. I want her to grow up knowing that she is beautiful, every inch of her.

So please, if you ever see Emma, or any other child with CMN, or any other kind of physical difference to "normal", just say, "You're beautiful."

Slow It Down

5 months. FIVE months. How the heck did we get here? It's hard to believe that Emma has been with us for five months now. That's like almost a whole half a year.

So far everything's been great.

Yeah. Right. Who am I kidding! Everything? No. A lot of things, sure, but not everything. As much as I'd like to claim it, she is far from the world's happiest baby. She has her moments, of course. And most of the time she is pretty docile. But some days she just cries. Still, even now, at 5 months, she will cry for no discernable reason. Sometimes she cries because she's hungry and I'm trying to feed her. Really kid? Other times she cries because she's tired. But she won't go to sleep. And then she'll cry because she's in the wrong room. But still, there are times she cries for absolutely no reason, and there's no consoling her until she decides to stop. And usually then, she'll eat and go to sleep.

And sleep? I'm pretty sure she slept better when she was a newborn. Naps, if she'll take one, now mostly hover around the 30 minute mark. And I'm lucky if she does this 3 times a day. At night she still wakes up at least 3 times. Not long ago she'd sleep till around 4, wake to eat, then sleep till 7 or 8, sometimes 9. Now she wakes around 1. And then 4. And often again at around 5, 6, and 7. And she basically sleeps attached to a boob the entire time after her first wake up. She does sleep in her crib until then though. But yeah. It's pretty exhausting. And no luck napping later in the day with her. Cause as I said, she hardly naps.

And for the love of Pete, can someone please tell me why this child is STILL spitting up? I don't mean like just a little dribble here and there. I mean oftentimes full blown exorcist stuff. We keep burp cloths placed strategically around the house at all times. It's rather disgusting.

Speaking of disgusting, diaper output is fan-freaking-tastic. Like at least 10+ per day. One good thing though, she's only ever had diaper rash like twice, and that was a very long time ago. Like when she was less than a month old long time ago. So that's super.

She's finally laughing now! When she wants to anyway. She's very stingy with the full on laughs. She'll smile and coo all day long (as long as she's not crying) but she makes you WORK for those laughs. And most of the time the work is not good enough and she will not hand out even a tiny laugh. She also has this high pitched squeal she loooooves to do, often in place of a laugh, for which I have named her my baby velociraptor. But it's fun and I love it.

Developmentally she is doing great. She reaches, and grabs, has great head control (and has for like forever). She passes toys from one hand to the other. She chews everything (no sign of teeth though). She tries to sit up when she's laying down all the time, her core is going to be fantastic by the time she figures it out. And if you hold her hands, she will pull herself all the way up. Even onto her feet. BUT. She still isn't rolling. I'm almost worried about that, but watching her play, I'm pretty sure it's a choice, not a delay. She just has no interest in it. She can, and does, roll up on her side, but she just stops there. Like, "This is good enough Mom."

I'm certainly not used to trying to balance a baby and work and home stuff. Something is constantly getting neglected, usually the home. With the first two, I didn't work for like at least their first two years. Now, I basically never stopped.

I am very proud to say that we are 5 months in and still exclusively breastfeeding. This is the longest I've gone without supplementing at all. I can't say it's all been easy either though. There have been times where I have considered quitting. And still I question if she's getting enough. But she is growing just fine so I guess she is. She has started solids, but up until this week it wasn't very regular. And still it's really just for practice, but she's suddenly gotten very good at it. And she seems to love oatmeal mixed with apples. The next food on our list is going to be carrots.

I know she's growing, but man she's still so small. It's so weird too, because it seems like she's gotten so big, but she hasn't. Compared to her birth size, I guess she has. And she's (as of her 4 month appointment) growing right on her growth curve, but that curve is only 35%. For weight. For height she's only 25%. So she's still a tiny little thing. And she still has room to grow in her 3-6 month clothes. But she's not 6 months yet anyway I suppose. If it's anything like the last two sizes, she won't outgrow them until she's about 7 months anyway. Again, weird to me, because the first two were always in a size ahead.

But even with her little quirks and high maintenance nature, this girl is such a blessing, and brings so much joy. She does give me pause though, and make me wonder if we do decide on another, will it be even more picky than Emma is? Or is Emma our designated rough patch and it'll be all smooth sailing beyond her? I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Surprise!

I had a rather easy & uneventful pregnancy with Emma. Aside from getting diagnosed with gestational diabetes at 28 weeks, and having to watch my diet carefully & take metformin once a day before bedtime, not much else happened. Because of that though, we ended up with weekly ultrasounds for the last 2 months. The day before turning 39 weeks, I went up to Maternal Fetal Medicine, by myself even though I really didn't want to go alone, Wayne had to work or whatever. They do the measurements & all, check my glucose chart & tell me that my numbers are beautiful as usual. Then the tech says, well your amniotic fluid is a little low, I need to talk to the doctor, I'll be back. Wow, ok. So I wait a few minutes, the doctor comes in and tells me, so you're going to have to be induced today. Shock. Utter shock. Ok. I wasn't prepared to be told I'm going to be having a baby today. They tell me to head over to the hospital blah blah blah. I ask, well, can I go home first? Yes, I asked to go home. To get my bags, and Wayne. They said ok, just don't be long.

I leave MFM still completely in shock. By now tears are flowing, I'm completely unable to help that. They just have a mind of their own. I need to call Wayne. I do. He answers, I'm like uhhh we're having a baby today. Through the tears. I'm really just super freaked out. He says what. I say we're having a baby. Low fluid. Induction. Blah blah blah. Let my mom know and meet me at home. Ok. I try to compose myself so I can make the 30-45 minute drive home. I don't. But I'm good enough to drive. The drive is kind of a blur. My mom calls. She was freaking out too. But the situation wasn't explained to her properly. I explain, we make a plan, for hospital & the older two kids, and I continue the trek home.

Get home, Wayne is already there. Ok, we need that bag, that bag, the car seat (thank god the base was already installed), phone chargers, hair straightener, and whatever else hadn't been packed as we were using them on a daily basis. I need to pick up my prescriptions too. Oh crap. The kids have dentist appointments. Jordyn's is today, Abby's is tomorrow. I need to cancel. I'm still freaking out. I call and cancel the appointments, the receptionist wishes me luck, and we head out the door. Walgreen's. We go through the drive thru, and now we're on our way. I'm still freaking out. During the drive I make a post on Facebook to let everyone know we're being induced. I'm not one of those super private nobody can know we're having a baby type people.

We get to the hospital, leave the bags in the car for now, and luckily find parking. The hospital has been working on a new parking garage for a while, and parking has been atrocious. We check in at the front desk and they tell us where to go. I don't even remember what floor they said, but we go to wherever it was, and sit in the little waiting room designated for inductions. It's just us. Wayne asks if I should call my midwife, Elizabeth, and let her know what's going on. I'm sure MFM already did, but my brain works & I remember it's Wednesday and she's at the hospital not in the office anyway. Eventually she pops out of the ward to say hello and let us know that they'll be taking us back soon.

I'm not sure exactly how long we waited. I want to say it was somewhere between 30 minutes and an hour. They took us in around 4:30pm, if I remember correctly. Once they take us back to the room, Wayne comes back with the sandwich he was sent to get as I hadn't even had lunch yet, and I'm forced to strip & put on a hospital gown. They do all the usual questions, get me hooked up to stuff, and I think great, let's get this show on the road. Elizabeth comes back, with some other people, and a student (great...) and says she's going to put in a foley bulb. I have no idea what she's talking about so she explains, it goes in my cervix and helps it dilate (I believe, this all ended up as a blur, for reasons coming in the next bit) I say ok, and she goes to work. It. Was. EXCRUCIATING. They tried like 5 times to get it in, but my cervix was apparently way too soft to hold it (even though it wasn't even dilated yet. I think she said maybe 1cm. Ugh) and the bulb just kept popping out. BUT THEY KEPT TRYING. Meanwhile, I'm dying, feeling like I've already given birth like 10 times by now. Eventually they give up. THANK THE SWEET BABY JESUS. And start me on pitocin a bit later. That wasn't too bad. The contractions weren't especially strong, but for pretty much the whole time, once they got going, they were constant. Like every 2 minutes constant. So obviously, no sleep for me. Grrr.

My parents showed up I think around 8 or 9pm. Maybe 7. I have no idea anymore. The fetal monitor kept not working, or losing Emma, so it was constantly being readjusted. Eventually I piped in, well I do have an anterior placenta, not sure if that could be affecting it? Of course it could. They eventually tried a wireless one, but that one kept not working because it wouldn't connect to the thing or whatever. In the end I don't even remember what they ended up doing. I do remember one nurse left the wireless on for the heart rate, but used the not wireless one for contractions.

Now, going into this, I expected to have a baby in my arms that night. Apparently when it comes to inductions, I was a sweet summer child. So, my parents are there, Wayne is there, everyone is getting tired. I have to pee like every 30 minutes, and have to take a giant arsenal of machinery with me every time. So annoying. My step-dad decides to go to the casino (and I don't blame him), Wayne falls asleep, so my mom & I are just chilling, watching horrible yet delightful TV (My 600-Lb Life, among others). Time is dragging, I'm not progressing. My step-dad calls my mom, he won a nice chunk of money at the casino. Wow, that's great! He stops for coffee & comes back to the hospital. He takes a nap. Me & mom again. Bad TV again. Not progressing again. Eventually it's morning. I'm only dilated to like a 3 or 4? I don't know, maybe 6. But probably not. My parents decide to go home to get some naps in, and they'll be back later. I will call if anything changes.

I'm STARVING. But I'm not allowed to eat. I steal a few of Wayne's Cheez-Its. The nurse offers me broth. BROTH!? Ugh, ok. I agree. She brings it, it's the best broth I've ever had in my life. I'm not quite as starving anymore. I am exhausted. I've been awake for over 24 hours. I start dozing off between contractions. But of course they're coming every 2 minutes (or less) so i get about 30 seconds of sleep at a time. Eventually my parents come back. I have no idea what time that was, at all. We're starting to make some better progress. Good thing too, cause these checks are not a walk in the park. Not as bad as the foley, but still not cool. Contractions are getting stronger. I think my water broke, I'm not sure if the doctors/nurses did it or it broke on its own. By like 4pm contractions are terrible, and making me cry. I finally ask for an epidural. Once the epidural is in, I'm in heaven. My mom comes back, and sees me SMILING. I was in a much better mood. My step-dad was about to come back to the room, and suddenly, pressure. This is like 15 minutes after the epidural. Seriously. I yell to the nurse, "I think she's coming!" (even though there is no "think". I know for certain she is wiggling her way out, this is not my first baby). They come to check (of course), and I'm trying my hardest not to push as she's making her way out - it was hard, but I managed. 

They check, and are like, yep, baby time. Everyone springs into action, and 3 minutes and 1 push later, Emma delivers herself. THREE MINUTES. I know this for a fact. It is one of the few minute details of her delivery I remember. Three minutes. She was born at 17:17. I was in labor for about 24 hours. She's laying there at the end of the delivery table in those first moments of after birth. Wayne refuses to cut the cord, my mom does it. Wayne says, "What's on her face". I chime in, "It's poop", because I had heard the word meconium thrown out while "pushing". They wipe our precious new babe off and put her on my chest, and no, that's not poop. More shock. But whatever, she's beautiful. But why's there hair on it? I don't remember if she cried or not. She probably did. We never got her apgar score either. I assume it was good.

At some point they're like uhhh your placenta isn't coming out. I don't recall if it was before or after they gave Emma to me, but I assume it was after. So they're pulling on the cord & stuff, trying to coerce it out. It won't come out. SO. The one doctor, or midwife, I don't remember exactly what she was, goes in. Literally. She's up to her elbows in my uterus, fishing the placenta out. Luckily, I had my epidural, so it wasn't too painful, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. In the process, some blood & ick squirts out across the room. It was like a scene from a horror movie, only funny. Ish. Nobody even batted an eye.

The delivery team gives their congratulations, and moves on. We do our skin to skin, practice breastfeeding (she was a champ), and everything is good. Eventually they take her to the little room to weigh & measure her & all that (6lb 7oz, 19in - so tiny!), and had pediatrics come down to look at her face. They told us some stuff, which most of I don't remember, but they said they believe it to be either a strawberry or (as I could remember it at the time) a "hairy neville". Yes. Like Neville Longbottom. From Harry Potter.

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to share my new babe with the world. But I was afraid of people saying nasty things about her. Wayne was too. We opted for a side view picture for the first one, where her birthmark wasn't really visible. The people I personally texted and sent pictures to got the full face though. I knew they would love her regardless, and have nothing mean to say. But later, I realized, why should I hide this beautiful baby. So, I shared her. And there was not a single mean word. I don't think anyone even asked about her birthmark. Not that I recall anyway.

Recovery was a breeze, even with my geriatric maternal status, being about to turn 37. The nurses were all fantastic, and one was even able to shed some more light on Emma's birthmark, as she had worked for a dermatologist for a long time. I ate so much food in those first days, especially when they finally fed me after delivery. I was ravenous. I still barely slept in the hospital though. It's like I forgot I was tired. I had to fill out a breastfeeding log, which was weird, I'd never had to do that with the other two. I don't know how much she weighed when we left the hospital, they never told us that either.

So, that's the story of Emma's birth. Not a particularly pleasant experience, but it was definitely worth it. I have decided though, that I will never have another induction ever again.

Emma's first picture:

Decisions

We had a follow up appointment with the dermatologist yesterday. She said both of Emma's birthmarks look great, and she is developing normally. Yay! She also gave us the number for plastic surgery so we could schedule a consult if we wish. She noted they wouldn't start anything until she's at least a  year, and also reiterated her thoughts that they would not be able to remove all of her nevus. This tiny little bit of information, just a phone number, has given me so many feelings. I. Am. Terrified. Terrified of everything. Terrified of my baby having to go through surgery. Terrified of her "quality of life" if we don't go with removal. Terrified of making the wrong choice for her. Terrified that if we do go for removal, she will be left with horrible scars on her face anyway. I had a hard time with her being put under just for her MRI, I don't know how I will be able to deal with surgery. When Jordyn was 5 or 6, she had her adenoids removed and tubes put in her ears. The nurses told me not to cry because it would make her more upset. I did my best, but it was hard. And she was much older than Emma, and getting a much less intense procedure.

At this point I have no idea what we are going to do. There are days where I feel like removal is the only option, and there are others where I feel she's perfect just the way she is, and there is no need to entertain the idea. (Which she is. I just know there are horrible people in the world, and they won't see her that way. It would be wonderful if we could all just love each other as we are, but unfortunately that is not the case) At any rate, we don't have to make any decisions any time soon, and once we have a consult we will have so much more information to help us make one. I just hope that in the end, the decision we come to is the right one. 

First Post!

Hi!

So, I've never "blogged" before. But I've been considering this for a while now. I want to document, and share, this strange, wonderful, terrifying journey with Emma. Not just the medical side of it. The whole I'm-37-years-old-and-have-an-infant side as well. The fun parts, the sad parts, the frustrating parts, the sleepless parts, the worrisome parts, and every other part in between.

This is Emma:

I know, she's beautiful. Thank you. She was born with a large birthmark on her face (as you can see) called a Congenital Melanocytic Nevus (CMN). It came as quite a shock to us, to say the least. I'll save the story of her birth for another day though. CMN is apparently very rare. She also was born with a very large hemangioma (aka strawberry) that covers most of her right arm. This girl clearly won the birthmark lottery.

She is generally a happy, healthy, yet very high maintenance baby. She's small, but growing right on track in her percentiles (35% for weight & 25% for height. I'm not used to little babies!) I can't think of any one thing that she absolutely loves for more than 10 minutes on any given day at this stage, but if I do, I'll be sure to let you know. She was sleeping really well up until a few days ago. Now she won't sleep for more than an hour it seems, day or night. And when she does sleep at night she needs to be attached to a boob. I consulted Doctor Google though, and it seems this is a stage most 4 month olds go through. Thank the lort.

She is my third baby. However, the other two are old. 12 and soon-to-be 16 (in less than a month!) So we're basically starting from scratch. Most of it has been like riding a bike though, there have been lots of moments of "Oh yeah, I remember this." But there have also been plenty of times where I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing (those early weeks of non-stop crying, utterly convinced that she hates me and/or she's starving & I'm not making any milk. Neither was true, btw.) Her sisters adore her. Even though the 12 year old was bummed she wasn't a boy, and the soon-to-be-licensed one didn't want her around at all (until she met her, of course).

Dad is completely over the moon (even though he was bummed she wasn't a boy as well). She is his first baby, and I gotta admit I was really nervous about it. But he has taken on his new role beautifully, and he is absolutely enchanted by her. He helps as much as he can, changing diapers and flying her around the house, taking her so I can finally eat (after everyone else is done of course), and he has her every Sunday all by himself while I work. Well, mostly by himself. The older two are usually home too. I do have to add though, he can 100% sleep through every time she wakes up at night. Which is fine, he can't feed her anyway. I do envy his sleep schedule though. I haven't had a single night of uninterrupted sleep in about a year now.

Anyways. Speaking of sleep, it's nearly 1:30am, and I should probably try to get some sleep. As it is, Emma has already woken up 3 times since she went to bed at 10. I do enjoy these quiet moments to myself though, when everyone else is asleep. As quiet as they can be anyway, with a snoring man in the room. Yawn.

Me & my babe: