Two Months of Claire

We are just shy of three months with Claire and what joy she has brought to our lives.  I've thought often of writing, but the days are quite busy, even if just with nursing, cooing, rocking, and then frantically trying to clean, cook, organize, and do laundry while C sleeps.  She is gaining weight like a champ, an excellent eater, the sweetest smile-giver and coo-er, and such a little love.  She has huge blue eyes and these incredible long lashes and a tiny, kissable nose.  I could just stare at her for hours (and often do).

This maternity leave has been so different from that with B.  B was born in the dead of winter and while we went outside most days to walk, we had a lot of cozy hours and endured a lot of dark afternoons and evenings.  B also was a pretty scheduled sleeper (her own doing) from the start - waking every 3 hours - and a good sleeper as she great.  Claire instead has been born into what I assume will be the hottest summer on record in Denver. We've had many days over 90 degrees and while my instinct is to be outside all the time in summer, we've been inside more than I'd expect because it is SO hot and sunny.  Claire has also been a terrible sleeper (sorry, Claire, still love you to pieces but it is true) and an incredibly noisy baby with irregular breathing, which I found disconcerting and finally after several calls to her pediatrician, an ER visit, and a trip to the ENT (which included a scope down her nose) was diagnosed as laryngomalacia, which is essentially floppy and underdeveloped tissues in the larynx. Most children outgrow laryngomalacia, but her irregular breathing is downright terrifying (and helps explain her trouble sleeping).  One second she'll sound like an adult male who is snoring (no exaggeration) and the next she will pause her breathing for 5-10 seconds and then breathe quietly for awhile.  I've included a video below which will give you an idea of what I'm describing (sound on, obviously).

The combination of Claire's breathing issues and what I think was some postpartum anxiety coupled with lack of sleep and not being allowed to exercise yet meant things were pretty rough here for a few weeks.  I was not myself and beside myself with worry for Claire.  I only know what I'm experiencing myself, but I wonder if you are a Mom after a loss or losses if you just worry more, fret more, think about the worst possible outcomes more? Because let me tell you, I think about then All.  The.  Time.  Only now as Claire seems to already be improving in terms of breathing am I relaxing a bit, sleeping more at night, exercising, and generally feeling more like myself.  I often feel like I can't say anything negative about my experience as a Mom because I am so over-the-moon happy to be one, but there it is.

The upshot is that Claire is a sweet, easy baby, but she has trouble breathing and life here has been a bit rough but is improving.  We went away for the first time for the 4th and had a lot of fun, I'm slowly navigating how to give B the attention she needs and wants while still caring for Claire, and R and I are figuring out how to make time for our relationship in the midst of the craziness at home.

A few more things:

• I return to work on August 13th. I am ready to return to work in some capacity, but we'll see how the transition works.  Since I work from home 2-3 days a week, I have some flexibility with how I use daycare if I'm not busy, but I still feel immensely guilty for being excited to work again. I think that is a topic for another (longer) post.
• Because of Claire's breathing troubles and my resulting lack of sleep, we hired a night nurse that a friend used and loved.  It was, without a doubt, the best money I've spent recently. She immediately set me at ease, Claire takes a bottle from her (which she really won't do for anyone else), and she arrives at 10 PM and leaves at 6 AM.  Thankfully, I have a great milk supply again so I don't even wake up to pump, I just go to bed.  And in the morning, I feel like a new person -- one who is ready to be an enthusiastic and patient wife and mom.  It's awesome.  
• My body. Man. I know I just had a baby, and perhaps I'm feeling worse this time around because it is summer and I've been in a swimsuit a lot, but somehow I feel like I am GAINING weight while breastfeeding.  WTF.  Is that possible (I don't own a scale)?  Obviously this doesn't really matter, but it doesn't feel great to still have my clothes feeling tight and being so ill-fitting.
• This is another topic that deserves a separate post, but B has been a wonderful big sister. She isn't that interested in Claire, but she is sweet to her and mostly understanding of the fact that Claire sometimes requires attention which means B is not getting any.  We have certainly had some very rough moments with her and in general are facing some behavior "challenges."  I always know we are having some parenting challenges when I'm downloading parenting books left and right :) 

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P.M.A.

Enjoying the beach in Okinawa

My Dad was my high school soccer coach, which had some perks but also a great many downsides, mostly relating to accusations of favoritism and him being particularly hard on me (because he wanted me to be the best I could be, but still).  In any event, one of his favorite acronyms was P.M.A., for "positive mental attitude."  Having a positive outlook on life is not something I've had trouble with until the last few years.  And a few weeks ago, I made a decision to make a change.

As those of you who have been reading know, I've been feeling terrible about my body lady, I'm been having perimenopausal symptoms, and my mood has been all over the place.  I hate feeling this way, but I wasn't doing much to fix it and I realized I was being whiny and downtrodden and not appreciating what I have.

There was a triggering event for this wake up call that came out of nowhere.  I receive the GOOP newsletter, and while I normally delete it straight away, last week something caught my eye.  There was an article whose subtitle mentioned hormone imbalance and is on the GOOP site here.  Hormone imbalance!  That's me!  I immediately clicked through, read the article, downloaded the Dr. Sara Gottfried's book The Hormone Cure, and read it in one night.  It reminded me of when I read It Starts with the Egg a few years ago and immediately overhauled our house (no BPA, glass containers), my toiletries and cosmetics, and my supplement and vitamin protocol.  I just had this feeling like, "Hey! I want to feel better. I know I'm not doing everything in my power to feel better right now and how lame is that? Just do it."  When I wanted to improve egg quality, I did EVERYTHING I could.  And why am I not doing that now?

In any event, I ordered $350 of supplements and vitamins that will hopefully be waiting for me at the Westin in Tokyo next week before we fly to Amsterdam.  I've signed up for a marathon and started running regularly and using this app I love called SWORKIT (it has workouts that will make you sweat that require no equipment, including yoga and pilates), plus I created an Instagram account where I'm posting about my running, which helps me stay motivated (@rundarcyedenrun if you are interested).  We've been making a point of being in bed at 9:30 PM and lights out at 10:00 PM, which means I feel rested in the morning no matter what time B wakes up.  I'll resume regular acupuncture and massage once we are home (that's tough to do on the road).  I've started keeping a gratitude log in my Bullet Journal.  I've stopped drinking and am reducing carbs/gluten and treats/dessert. I find that on the road it is easy to see all of this travel as "vacation," which means have a drink at night! Have dessert!  Have a mid-afternoon ice cream! The trouble is, that vacation is many months long and not two weeks so it has taken its toll.

I'm two weeks in to making these changes and I feel so much better.  I had this realization that I have been singularly focused on trying to get pregnant, grieving Q, being pregnant and thus anxious, or dealing with a miscarriage for almost FIVE YEARS (it will be five years in October from when we first started trying to have babies).  FIVE YEARS.  I've lost myself in so many ways during this time and I'm ready to get myself back.  I feel like a better Mom, wife, and happier person and I'm so excited to keep this up.

Okay, so I think I sound a little crazy and possibly a little manic, but I really do just feel better.  P.M.A.!

I'll leave you with two things that happened in the last week.

Jizo Statues in Kyoto

First, I found my Jizo for Baby L / Q!  I read this NYT article "The Japanese Art of Grieving a Miscarriage" and knew that when we were in Japan, I wanted to find one of my own to have at home.  In Japan, these small figurines honor the souls of babies who were never born.  I'd been looking since we arrived, but hadn't seen any (I am positive I was just not looking in the right place).  Last week, we finished a lovely day of biking and rode by a shop with lots of figurines on display outside.  We pulled over on our bikes and there in front of the shop next to a fountain were all of these little Jizo statues.  I picked one out and have it carefully wrapped to bring home.

Second, I bought ovulation predictor tests.  This required a great deal of Googling, searching many drug stores, and ultimately showing photos of what I wanted to employees and asking for help.  I finally found them and actually purchasing them requires taking an empty box to the front of the store, someone going to a back room to get them, and then several layers of bags and packaging being wrapped around them (this is standard in Japan and not specific to the OPKs, but still amusing).  I haven't tried to use them yet, but hopefully I can interpret the lines on the tests (they don't have the smily faces like at home).  It was a funny thing to search for in a country where nothing is written in English.  I do very much miss the convenience and anonymity of Amazon Prime.
 

Time Marches On

How is it November?  October was filled with all the fun activities that one gets to attend when you have a small child who is mesmerized by all things Halloween.  Pumpkins!  Bats!  Ghosts!  Lights!  Seriously, I had no idea how much better fall would be with a toddler.  Plus, in my humble opinion, B seriously crushed it in the costume category.

Our trip is slowly coming together.  I find myself daydreaming of the beach and know that we'll be there before we know it, plus there is Christmas between now and then.  After Kauai, we'll head to Sydney and then to New Zealand where we'll stay for 6-8 weeks.  And then onto Japan!

On the fertility front, I don't have anything to report.  I've been feeling okay.  I've had wonky cycles, but all signs point to ovulating and I'm having cycles, so that is something.  But seriously - since my miscarriage, my cycles have been 27 days, 35 days, 18 days and 38 days.  What gives?!  I had decided to just leave without seeing a Reproductive Endocrinologist, but then I found out that the one I liked best is joining a new practice that I also liked, so I figured there was no harm in just seeing what she has to say.  I still want to know thoughts on trying HRT and then coming off of it (I've read this is how some have success) and if there is anything else I should be doing (although I doubt there is).  Some days I feel resigned to just having one child, giving away all of our baby stuff (we ARE decluttering), and moving on from this stage of my life.  It would be liberating to stop thinking about trying to get pregnant, which might be what happens naturally next year when we are traveling.  I'm so excited to quit my job and spend more time with B and R.

If you want to read a heavy but incredibly moving, poignant, heartbreaking piece about the death of a child, you must read "Children Don't Always Live." Maybe I should have led with this sad link and followed with the flamingo?  Oops.

Happy Fall to you all!

Regrets

When I think of L (also known as Q - see this post for an explanation of names), my mind frequently wanders to the regrets I have related to her birth and the very brief time we had with her.  As many of you know, there is no way to prepare for the decisions you are asked to make in rapid succession when you know you are giving birth to a stillborn baby.  There are so many decisions and each is more torturous than the next.  

I delivered L vaginally while on more morphine than I can even imagine. I couldn't have an epidural because of my blood clot and I don't feel like the morphine helped the pain all that much, but it did make me feel completely separate from my body.  I remember feeling like I had floated up above my body and was watching what was happening from above -- I couldn't possibly be going through this myself.  For the record, I hated this feeling and wish I hadn't taken any drugs and just experienced the birth.  It is easy to say that now, but my mind doesn't handle narcotics well and I hate the way they make me feel.

R and I have never really spoken about L's delivery.  We certainly talk about her, but we mention that night mostly in generalities, so perhaps my recollection is wrong.  In my mind, L came into the world in silence (both hers and ours).  It was the middle of the night and the room felt eerie.  A doctor arrived and out she came.  The nurse asked if I wanted to hold her and I did, but not yet.  My OB arrived shortly thereafter, L was given a bath, and my OB asked us if we were ready.  R was in the bed with me and I took tiny L into my arms.  She weighed only a pound, but she looked like... well, she looked like a very small baby.  Her eyes were closed. I remember her hands seemed disproportionately large, but I loved her tiny fingers and held each one, marveling at how very much she looked like the sweet girl I had imagined growing in my belly.

We each held her and kissed her tiny forehead.  But I was still totally out of it from the meds, it was the middle of the night, and honestly the whole experience is a total blur for me.  Eventually my OB returned and took L away.  The next morning I awoke and headed to surgery.  I remember wanting desperately to have another chance to hold L once I felt aware of what was going on, but she was gone and there was never another offer to bring her back. That said, I never asked.  Admittedly, there was a lot going on with my surgery and being in the ICU, but I never asked to hold her again.  It both breaks my heart that the only time I had with her I was not myself, not cognizant of my surroundings and it makes me feel like I didn't do her justice.  I didn't spend the time with her that she deserved and that I so desperately wanted.  Why didn't we bathe her?  Why didn't I memorize every inch of her tiny body?  Why didn't I hug her and hold her for as long as I wanted to?  Was it fear and a shortcoming in my personality?  What kind of Mom does this make me?  

I have so many regrets about that brief time we had with L.  I think about it often and search in my mind for details from the night she was born to no avail.  I know there is no playbook for handling grief and loss, but I wish I had handled it differently...

(I'm feeling very sad today and this week generally, for no apparent reason.  Sigh.)

2 Years

What a week.  Christmas!  The New Year!  Baby B is ONE!  And it is the second anniversary of losing Q (Baby L).  We had a gorgeous white Christmas and B was overwhelmed but loved the ornaments, the paper, the gifts, the music, etc.  We both took B's birthday off of work, took her swimming and out to lunch, and did all of her favorite activities.  It's been such a nice stretch of spending time as a family and having a lot of fun, but lurking in the background are the memories of little Q.  My mind flashes back to scenes from the hospital much more often these days and I find myself hugging Blythe extra hard, rocking her longer, holding her while she sleeps, and constantly thinking of Q and B. 

I'm reminded both of how much we have lost and how lucky we are to be where we are today.  It's unfathomable to me what this anniversary would be like without B in my arms.  This is my not-so-little one-year-old on Christmas enjoying the fresh snow.

I try to remind myself to be grateful and happy when I instead find myself feeling envious of another friend's second or third baby pregnancy announcement.  I know I should always focus on what I have, which is the most wonderful gift I've ever been given. 

Thinking of you today, Quinn, and missing you like I do every day.

Shared Experiences

We've had a bit too much going on at home lately, so I have had little to no time to myself and hence no time to blog. My husband ruptured his achilles and has been on crutches for the last 6 weeks (2 more weeks to go).  I am now even more in awe of single parents or those of you with a spouse who is deployed or away for long periods of time.  It is hard to be the sole caregiver for a baby (and to take care of an injured adult on top of that).

If you haven't seen Sheryl Sandberg's post on Facebook about losing her husband, check it out.  Her thoughts and advice and experience with such a tremendous loss will likely resonate.  I particularly related to her loathing of the question "How are you?"  I used to want to scream at people who asked me that.  And I also loved how she said  the following:

"Option A is not available.  So let's just kick the shit out of Option B."

When I catch myself thinking of Option A (Lemon), I let myself dream of what she would be like, but also remind myself how utterly amazing it is that we have Blythe.  I wouldn't want to think of her as Option B, but you know what I mean... arriving at B was not what we planned, but it certainly is sweet.

On a completely separate subject, I've had two people in the last few weeks approach me to talk about their losses. The first was a woman with whom I connected through our acupuncturist who lost her baby at 30 weeks due to a cord accident. The second is a woman with whom I work who stopped by my desk sobbing last week.  Her daughter-in-law (who also works at our company) had just found out at 20 weeks that her baby had anencephaly and they had to terminate the pregnancy.  I don't know this woman, but she knew I had been through something similar and just wanted to talk.  It just broke my heart and it stirred up so many crazy emotions and sent me running home early to snuggle B.  Every day I am so thankful for her.  Speaking of work, I still haven't figured out working less or asking for reduced hours.  I plan to do something about it this week, but thank you all for your thoughts and feedback on the subject.

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B, by the way, is SO big!  I'm sure she is still in the 30th percentile somewhere, but she seems just huge to me!  She is rolling over like crazy (I still panic when I see her sleeping on her stomach in the monitor), talking constantly, and just so much fun.   She also has, in my wholly biased opinion, the best hair.

My Babies & Due Dates

I finally wanted to share my baby's full names.  Not sure what is inspiring me to do this today, but I was just thinking about the anonymity of this blog and that I might be changing my tune about whether it it is necessary.

Anyway.

Baby L is referred to as "L" because we called her Lemon through my pregnancy. I'm not sure why, but it was an early nickname and it stuck.  But her real name is Quinn.  Beautiful, sweet Quinn.  I often think of her as my little Q.  But I do also still think of her as Lemon and think it would have been one of her nicknames.  Or maybe it is still her nickname?  I get tripped up in tenses when I think of Quinn.

And our Baby B!  The love of my life who brings me so much joy -- more than I thought we might ever feel again after we lost Quinn.  Baby B's real name is Blythe.  It means happy.  We hope she is happy and she certainly makes us the happiest we've ever been.  It has been my favorite name for ages and it just fit her (even though it took us 3 days in the hospital to actually commit).

So there it is.  You have now officially met my Baby B and Baby L.

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Last week was also the one-year anniversary of L's due date.  Little Lemon would be one year old.  I would have a one-year-old.  My due date anniversary and my last week of maternity leave combined to make it an emotional week.  Mostly I cuddled Miss B as much as possible, gave her many kisses, let her nap in my arms, and enjoyed every second with her.  But I also told her about her sister and had a few good cries thinking about the last two years and everything we have been through, lost, and gained.

As we all know, anniversaries are tough.

Working for the Weekend

Happy Friday!  This one is especially happy since it is my first week back at work and I am counting the minutes until I can go home and snuggle with B (6 hours, 14 minutes).  B is home with a nanny who I think it taking wonderful care of her.  I suppose I have to trust my instincts on this one (and my husband's, since we hired her), but it is SO hard to leave her at home with someone who I really do not know well, no matter that she had great references and we loved her in her interview.  Any advice on this one?  I told my husband I wanted to install a nanny cam and he officially thinks I am off my rocker and has warned me not to frighten the nanny away.

The emotions of this first week back are intense.  Truthfully, it feels really nice to get up, shower, blow dry my hair, and go to work!  I get a coffee on the way, I get a lot done, I converse with adults, and I have some freedom and feel a bit more like myself.  I try to squeeze in a workout and to remember what I am like as an individual rather than just who I am as a Mom.  And I have some time to catch up on blogging and reading other blogs (I am sure my employer would be thrilled to hear that).

But, I spend a great deal of my day thinking about B.  What is she up to?  When can we snuggle?  Will she be awake when I am home?  What are she and the nanny up to?  Is she happy?  Is she being properly cared for?  Will she resent me for not having stayed home with her?  The list goes on and on...

B will be four months old next week and we are having so much fun together so I just hate missing out on things.  She has rolled over a few times and laughs and smiles and loves being read to and sung to. And I am not there to see it happen.  This weekend we are taking her swimming for the first time. I cannot wait.

I know we all struggle with these emotions and there is a completely other side of them for those of us who stay home with our babies full-time.  I knew it would be hard, but perhaps not *this* hard.  Any thoughts or advice from those of you who have been doing this longer?

Crazy hair!

One Month & Pregnancy and Parenting Pressures

Baby B is one month old today!  It's hard to believe but I can tell she is growing and changing all the time and I am starting to pick up on what her different cries mean, how to soothe her, etc. (ha - even as I write this I know she is plotting some way to confuse me this afternoon).  I still marvel at her existence on a daily basis.  Her eyelashes.  Her soft skin.  Her skinny legs and tiny feet.  Her long fingers.  Her blue eyes.  Anyway...

The frog legs.  The hair.  Love her so much.

First, I've been listening to "The Longest Shortest Time" podcast and am hooked.  Do any of you listen?  If not, give it a try if podcasts are your thing.  It is all about the early months of parenting and I'm loving the topics and interviews.

In our walks around the neighborhood and late-night feeding sessions, I've had a lot of time to think about pregnancy, birth, being a Mom to a living baby (wow, never thought I'd write that), and just how life is so different.  Yesterday I had a conversation with one of my best friends who is also a pediatrician at a hospital.  We were discussing two things I have found to be totally crazy about giving birth and having a baby: c-sections and breastfeeding.

I had a c-section.  You can read my delivery story here if you'd like, but mine was medically necessary to save Baby B who was having decelerations.  It was terrifying (the decelerations) and I could not have cared less about how she came out of me, as long as she was alive.  That said, I didn't care ahead of the birth, either, except for the fact that I was on massive quantities of blood thinners, so a c-section was riskier for me than it normally us.

What I'm trying to get around to saying is that I have been astonished by the number of people who have expressed disappointment on my behalf because I had a c-section.  She is here safe and sound! Sure, would I have liked to avoid major abdominal surgery?  Of course!  But am I upset because I didn't get to have a vaginal delivery?  No, not at all. I don't feel like I had a worse experience or that I failed in some way.  My baby is alive.  I'm fine.  Mission accomplished.  I've just been really struck by this cultural bias towards vaginal birth and the desire to do so at all costs and then feeling disappointment or guilt after the fact if you end up with a c-section.  Obviously everyone is entitled to feel how they do personally, but do you really need to project your opinion onto other people!

And breastfeeding!  It is going well for us and I am extremely grateful for this fact.  It is so nice to be able to easily soothe her when she is hungry and to feed her on demand.  Perhaps I'd have a different perspective on this subject if it weren't going well for us, but I was astonished by the pressure in the hospital to breastfeed, the number of visits we had from the lactation consultants, and the realization that if B weren't latching, eating enough, etc., I would have been made to feel terrible about it.  I get that there are benefits to breastfeeding, but the pressure and the judgment is just so extreme these days.  Isn't the most important thing a happy, healthy, well-fed baby? If that requires formula, so be it!  I just listened to a great podcast on this subject if you want to hear more.

Just my thoughts on two early motherhood observations.  It would be easier if we could all just be nice to each other.  Everyone is doing their best!

Is this your first?

We went to our first wedding of 2014 over the weekend.  It was black tie, and I borrowed (thankfully) a dress from a friend... and apparently it is now quite obvious (even to strangers) that I am pregnant.  It isn't that I'm hiding it, but I'm tall and both with this pregnancy and with L, it was unclear until about 20 weeks whether I was putting on belly fat or was pregnant.  Apparently the cat is out of the bag.

I'm thrilled to look pregnant because I am obviously over-the-moon excited about this little baby growing in my belly.

That said, I have a confession.  I don't love strangers asking if I am pregnant in the same way that I did with L, because they always ask "Is this your first?" and, truthfully, I don't always know how to respond.

Twice over the weekend, when people asked me if this was my first, I just said "yes."  I definitely paused, thought about how to respond, and then just said "yes."  It wasn't because I wasn't thinking of L, but I just couldn't, in the situation, bear the idea of launching into what happened.  The first woman to ask was the woman from whom I got a pedicure on Friday who is also pregnant.  She was very sweet and we chatted a bit about being pregnant, but I just didn't want to share with this stranger what happened (and we also had a bit of a language barrier and I feared it would just get awkward to explain and that others nearby would overhear).  The second person was the wife of a friend of my husband's.  She sweetly asked if I was pregnant and then asked if it was our first.  We know the couple, but not well, and then don't know what happened with L (obviously).  We were at a cocktail party, and it just didn't seem like the time or place to share.

Ever since I said it was my first, particularly to the woman at the wedding, I have been feeling this overwhelming sense of guilt.  I feel like I let down L somehow - like me not acknowledging her to those people means something horrible about me like that I don't love her with all of my heart, which I do.  I wish I could rewind and just be honest - succinct, but honest.

I know there is nothing I can do to remedy the situation now, but I've just been feeling so guilty and sad about it all weekend.  Am I the only person who has lied to someone to avoid an awkward discussion? Is there a time and a place when it is okay to not tell someone the whole truth?

In happier news, we saw a spectacular rainbow over the weekend, and rainbows always make me think of L and this new baby, who I hope will be our rainbow baby.

On Motherhood

I just read a really lovely post on Darling about motherhood called "When Motherhood is Unknown."  

"Motherhood is absolutely one of the most precious gifts in this life. It is to be celebrated and revered. However, we also need to remember that, for some, the journey to motherhood doesn't often go as planned"

In the midst of loss and infertility, it is only natural to think about how unfair and terrible one's situation is.  But I try to remind myself that there are others going through a similar struggle for very different reasons, whether because they are unmarried and not wanting to have children alone, have battled or are battling an illness, or some other reason.  It is just another reminder to always be thankful for what you do have, even when that feels impossible.  

Separately, I really enjoy Darling magazine - it's worth checking out.