Uppercase Woman

Worst Night EVER

But it wasn't the baby's fault.

I was unable to get to sleep because I stupidly stayed up until midnight to watch the premier episode of Blade: The Series (which totally sucked, but since I'm a vampire junkie, I'll watch it). Plus Tori wouldn't stop kvetching. She was talking/crying/moaning/grunting off and on for hours. Since I knew I had to be up for the 3am feeding anyway I couldn't sleep at all

I got very frustrated and decided the appropriate response in that situation was to cry uncontrollably and wake up Charlie so I could then use that opportunity to carefully outlay the ways in which I feel he has been unhelpful as far as the baby goes (he's had a shitload of editing work, so it's been impossible for him to hold the baby much, and I apparently decided that meant he was an asshole). The best part of the argument came when I demanded he comfort his crying wife instead of cowering across the room in fear. I imagine it was much like trying to comfort a cobra.

So then we were both up.

Once the 3am feeding was done, a HUGE storm rolled through. This part of the country, I'm sure you've heard, has been getting a ton of bad storms lately but this one was the worst. Non-stop lightening--really!--and near constant thunder. So of course the terrified 100-lb pitbull had to get in bed with us and quake with fear, which meant we were up until the storm passed.

Tori slept through the storm perfectly. The second it was over, she went back to kvetching. So then we were both up until the 6am feeding. I think we slept between 7am and 10am.

My head hurts.

Parenting ROCKS.

---------------------------------------------------

On a more upbeat note, I am finally beginning to feel much, much better physically. My c-section incision aches occasionally, but the large lumps under it are mostly gone and the pain is really much better. I have more energy (when I sleep) and I've actually taken the dog out for a couple of long walks--just the two of us--which has felt great and gone a long way to restoring the dog's good mood.

Oh, and we saw the pediatrician/lactation consultant again yesterday. God, I just love her. Tori weighs nearly eight pounds! She's really chubbing up.

And for all you folks who assumed that I was going to give up on breast feeding already... oh ye of little faith! Of course we're not giving up yet. I'm going to start taking medication (a prescription plus fenugreek) to increase my supply, in fact, so that we can try to go to 100% breast milk. I'm also increasing my pumping to every two hours during the day (sigh) and see if that helps (my left boob is trying to give up the ghost, so lots of work needs to be done there).

What I'm not going to force, however, is trying to get Tori to latch. We will continue to use the nipple shield once or twice a day just for practice and if she decides to latch, well, awesome. If not, ok. I'll pump.

Turns out the reason she's rejected the shield lately is because she has thrush in her mouth. Poor baby. I'm not surprised; I was on antibiotics for the first two weeks of her life (there wasn't time to get me really sterile before my emergency c-section, remember) so she probably got it from me. She's getting that yummy banana flavored medicine now (which she minds considerably less than you'd think).

So that's my update! Here's your photos...

Short Attention Span

Sorry I didn't post again last week. We're fine. Really. But thanks for all the supportive comments; we'll get there. I knew everything everyone said (like I can put the baby down to pee) but it was just a day of hormonal anguish and I couldn't think. But it's getting better.

I am tired, though. I shouldn't be; I'm pretty spoiled with all of Charlie's help. We've set it up so that we each get six hours of sleep at night (I go up to bed around 11pm, he does the midnight feeding, I do 3am, then he does 6am and we don't get up again until the 9am feeding), but I don't take advantage of it. Cause I have to check on Tori at least once an hour and make sure she's still breathing. Sigh.

We've switched from a bassinet by the bed (don't worry, Meira, it's getting put to good use in Charlie's office) to a co-sleeper and that's a lot easier because I can just open my eyes and look at her instead of having to sit up, find glasses, and then look at her. Tori, by the way, continues to want to spend most of the night not in our bed. Dunno why, but she's happier with more space.

I have a million other things to mention, but I'm too tired to weave them all together. So enjoy the short-attention-span-mindjumping that follows.

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The new pediatrician is awesome. She didn't wear a white coat, which I think is great. She looks like a hippie, which I love, and laughed at our jokes, which is critical. Since she's a lactation consultant, she gave some great advice about nursing. She also gave me a nipple shield, which made Tori latch for about two days. Now she won't latch to that either. Maybe I smell funny? Seeing the ped again on Wednesday for a full-on lactation consultation.

I'm slowly but surely developing some preferences in the nursing/pumping department. I'm going to discuss it with the ped and I'll let you know. Cause I just know you are absolutely dying to know what I'm going to do, aren't you? Sigh.

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I am happy to be able to say goodbye to all of this:

God, it's good to not feel like a sick person anymore.

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The other day Charlie looked at Tori and said, very seriously, "You know how much I love you? More than all the spots on all the ladybugs in all the world."

Whoever she ends up dating is gonna have BIG shoes to fill.

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Being a mother (ha!) has made television a fucking minefield. I find myself crying at things constantly. Law and Order is nearly impossible to watch because there are way too many children involved and way too many parents weeping. My favorite show, gone just like that. CSI is easier, thank god. I have to have some crime shit to watch.

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It's been over three weeks since I've seen a movie in a theater. I think I'm in withdrawal.

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Tori is already changing so fast. Her scrawny little old man legs are filling out (she's up a pound since we left the hospital), and she now has a double chin (just one more chin and she'll be just like mom!). Her hair is still all there, but is maybe just a touch lighter and is definitely longer and the ends are attempting to curl. She stares at stuff quite seriously now, and has at least two periods of quiet alert time a day. Her eyes are no longer a slate grey, but are now a deep, deep blue (I know they'll change more--looking at Charlie's baby photos I see he didn't get his pale green/blue eyes until he was a year old) and her eyelashes are much longer. She still isn't much of a crier--the only thing she really hates is the cold baby wipes (yes, I know there are wipe warmers. But they seem so silly and excessive). She's become rather chatty, using grunts, coos, squeaks and chirps to entertain herself (and us).

And she absolutely loves this. Was it Julie that called it baby crack? So, so true. I only wish that it had a setting for music and lights that lasted longer than ten minutes, because you just cannot give a decent blow job in such a short amount of time.

Here's today picture of Tori. Caption: Drunk on breast milk!

Unfit

It turns out I'm a terrible mother.

First off, for about four hours yesterday, I was totally and completely done with the whole baby thing. Seriously. And why, yes, I AM a totally ungrateful bitch. Just for the record.

Charlie had gone to his mom's (she has Alzheimer's, so he goes out a few days a week to help her out), and I needed to pee really, really badly, and the baby (notice how she becomes "the baby" when I'm having a hard time) refused to be set down without crying. Well, not crying, really, but kvetching. She never really cries (ungrateful bitch! that's me!).

Plus, after three days blood free, I started bleeding again. And I bled on the god damned couch (God bless hydrogen peroxide--cleaned it right up). And I was out of real pads and only had panty liners left that lasted for a total of twenty-five seconds. Each. And my head hurt. And I wanted to eat something, but couldn't put the baby (again with "the baby") down long enough.

So I did her noon feeding, and I decided we would go up to bed and nap. If I couldn't eat or pee, at least I could nap.

We got up just as Charlie got home, and I gave him the baby and told him I needed a break. Even though he had a ton of work to do.

One toilet session and lunch later, I felt much better. Plus I broke down and took a pain pill, figuring that since I was having trouble standing upright without feeling like I'd been stabbed, it would be ok (I had to call and ask for more meds. Of course, I hadn't let Dr. Mama send me home with the normal amount. I tried to find out if there was a non-narcotic option, but there really wasn't, so now I'm rationing out my pain pills like crazy because I AM AN ADDICT and I'm terribly, terribly afraid of them). Within an hour or so, I was able to pick up Tori and cuddle her again, and I even realized that I'd missed her.

Please, please tell me this was hormonal and not the start of Post Partum Depression.

The rest of the day went fine. We went for a walk, and I mastered (sort of) the Maya Wrap for Tori which made the walk much less stressful on my lower back. We even added two blocks to the walk (yeah!).

Charlie and I have worked out the nighttime feedings pretty well (since the baby still won't latch, I don't have to be up for all of them). I do 9pm, then start the going to bed process around 10 or 11. Charlie does midnight, then brings Tori to bed (although Tori has been preferring the bassinet to co-sleeping the last few days; and yes, that noise you heard was my heart breaking). I do 3am (I pump then too). Charlie does 6am. We both usually get up for the 9am feeding. And, yes, Tori wakes up to eat exactly every three hours. She has her father's sense of time.

Last night during our 3am feeding, I had proof once that I am a horrible mother.

For some reason, the bottle got stopped up. I figured it was a lump of formula or something, so I extracted the bottle from Tori's I-wish-I-had-a-vacuum-with-that-kind-of-suction mouth to check it out.

It wasn't a lump of formula. It was a motherfucking ANT.

Now, we've had an ant issue in our kitchen since we bought this house. We've tried traps. We've tried to keep it spotlessly clean (HAHAHAHAHAhaha ug). Nothing seems to help. We are both resistant to the idea of spraying down our kitchen with some sort of toxic chemical, because of the pets, and now of course THE BABY.

But I thought we were keeping the ants out of her stuff. I really did.

At least she didn't actually swallow the ant, right?

Just call Child Protective Services now.

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Thank you all for the compliments on the new photo. Sarah, of course, amazing photographer that she is, took it. We're thinking of using it for our birth announcement.

Moxie asked how Hammer is doing with the baby. I'm not sure.

We've worked hard to make sure that he still gets to do his favorite things every day--take a walk, chew tennis balls, be silly on the people bed, that sort of thing. But he seems to be in a state of resigned sadness.

We think it might be Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Perhaps his previous owners tossed him on the street after they had kids (I found Hammer in March of 2000 on the streets starved nearly to death) or something like that. We'll never know, of course.

When he sees the baby, he sniffs her and kisses her and wags his tail at her. But when we walk around holding her, his eyes following us are filled with grief. It's terrible.

I'm hoping it will pass. After all, it's only been two weeks... and we'll never get rid of him. EVER. So perhaps he'll adjust eventually.

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Thank you all for encouraging us to get a new pediatrician. At first it seemed like too much work, but then Dianne (if you have a blog Dianne, let me know and I'll link it!) told me about a doc in my area that also is a lactation consultant. So we have our first appointment with her today.

I'm gonna ask her how soon we can go camping. Heh. Told you I was a terrible mom.

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Here is today's photo of Tori--and proof that she is basically unharmed, unless you consider using a binky harm (blame the hospital--we had no plans to give her one but they gave it to her during her 'car seat test' and now she's addicted. But the "happiest baby on the block" book says it's ok, so there):

Bliss

God, I just love not working. The days slide by with a kind of liquid feel, each one just a pleasant series of feedings and changings and saying, "Oh! That's my favorite face so far!"

It's nearly unbearably wonderful.

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On my third day in the hospital, Dr. Dismissive happened to be the guy doing rounds. We saw him coming, and prepared ourselves. But he still managed to shock me.

He asked how I was doing, and before I even finished my answer he said, "So, have you thought about getting your tubes tied?"

Now, obviously, pregnancy and I don't get along. My pregnancy abilities are so horrible that they've managed to kill two out of three babies AND tried to kill me both times (you never want a doctor to have to say to your husband "We've managed to get ahead of the bleeding.").

But is that the best possible way he could have started that conversation? Perhaps something more like, "So, what are your future plans? Do you want more children?" or "Have you considered having other children?"

Or maybe he could have looked at our chart for ten seconds and seen that we required IVF with ICSI to get pregnant, and our chances of a "natural" pregnancy are less than nil, and not brought it up at all.

He could have also decided to keep his fucking mouth shut since he's not our primary doctor, and, in fact, we specifically requested that he be removed from our prenatal rotation. Which I know he knows.

But Charlie and I were both feeling so blessed and happy that we just laughed and laughed at his question. He looked perplexed, and then I assured him that we don't plan to have more children. He asked about birth control, and we laughed more. We'll either use condoms (ha!) or just utilize all the great info I've learned about monitoring my cycle to prevent any future pregnancies.

But seriously. Why such an asshole? Why suggest a surgical fucking procedure as a birth control method right out of the gate? And, why be sexist about it? Why not suggest a vasectomy for Charlie?

I am so glad I never have to go to that office again.

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And now... pictures!

Father's Day

For most of my life Father's Day has passed with little notice. I steeled myself early on--in elementary school, in fact--to ignore the holiday and pretend it didn't exist. When pressed to work on school projects that would be "gifts for Daddy" I was always given an out. It never occurred to me to substitute a Grandfather or Uncle on that day; it was easier and less painful to just to ignore it.

My father, as most of you know, left me and my mother when I was fifteen months old. He re-enlisted in the army and went off to Vietnam. It seems like a rather dramatic way to get away from your family, but whatever. I grew up, as I've said before, accepting the fact that I have a "dad-sized" hole in my heart that will never be filled.

In the last week, I've woken up several times to find Charlie awake, staring at me and Tori. His face is so happy and relaxed; I haven't seen him like this since we first fell in love. He speaks softly to Tori, saying, "Hi, Doll! How are you?" and looking like the most proud daddy that ever existed.

Ten years ago, I made the decision that I wanted to have kids. I was sober and I was lucky enough to be married to a man that would not be like my father. I knew in my bones that no matter what happened, Charlie would always be there for his children. I never felt safe enough in any other relationship to contemplate actually raising a family; Charlie changed everything.

It wasn't easy; for years, if we had a big fight, I would tell him to leave. I knew he was going to leave, because that was what men did. But each time I'd tell him to go, he'd just look at me like I was crazy (cause I was) and say, "Gee, that seems a little dramatic."

Charlie managed to heal, in large part, the thing in me my father broke.

I know now, watching Charlie with Tori, that the reason we pushed so fucking hard to have her is so that I can watch his face shine with love for her. The last four years of pain and fear and rage and sorrow are melting away so quickly; my heart is healing faster than my incision.

Charlie is a miracle just as much as Tori is. He is my heart, my love, and now the father of my daughter. A daughter who will never have a dad-sized hole in her heart; my daughter is starting out her life learning that men can be kind, loving and gentle. I envy her. She's one lucky little girl.

Happy Father's Day, Charlie. I love you, and so does your daughter.

Get the Metal Out

Today was our busiest day post baby.

At 8:30am (a time at which I was shockingly awake) we had our last (SOB!) appointment with Dr. Mama. He took out my staples and said the incision looks good; it probably was infected but we caught it in time. I cannot believe how much better the incision feels without all that metal in it. So glad that is done.

He said if I'm feeling alright I can skip the six-week post birth appointment, which I'm sure I'll do. There is only one doctor left at that practice I can stand, so I'd rather not return there if possible.

After that appointment, we stopped by my job to show Tori off. Because my shop is so isolated from everyone, I often feel like I have no colleagues at my job (other than the lovely students that work for me, who are all young enough to be my kids if I'd started having them when I was 18). But, apparently, by showing up with a baby, suddenly I have TONS of co-workers. Tori must have been passed around to twenty different women. It was adorable.

We came home, got a quick nap, and then it was off to her first pediatrician appointment.

One thing I've come to realize in this last, oh, nine days or so, is that I can tell you a ton about how to get pregnant. I can regale you with all kinds of infertility facts, pregnancy facts, how-to-track-your-cycle facts, but I know FUCK ALL about babies. I don't know anything about development milestones. I have a serious lack of baby books in the house (I have a couple different parenting books, but nothing about baby development). So I was looking forward to the appointment to give me some guidance.

The only things we learned are that we shouldn't be sleeping with the baby (cause we'll roll over and kill her) , that we shouldn't take her outside for walks (um, took her for a walk the first day we were home--I mean, dudes, we have a BUGABOO to show off here! Not to mention one damn fine looking baby), and that we shouldn't allow people to hold her that haven't washed their hands (like, say, an office full of women).

So, so far so good. Right?

I am not germ phobic, or even particularly germ aware. I do not believe in antibacterial anything. I believe washing things in warm water and soap is sufficient. I would rather the nurse on our last day in the hospital hadn't coughed directly on the Tori, but I imagine she'll survive. If someone has just gone to the bathroom, sneezed in their palms, or been petting infected monkeys I guess I'd like them to wash their hands before they hold Tori. But otherwise I just don't worry about it.  So I just smiled and nodded while the nurse-practitioner gave us the germ lecture.

As far as co-sleeping, oh for fuck's sake. Something like half the world practices co-sleeping. Places like China and India in particular where they are CLEARLY having a population problem because of all the crushed babies. WHATever. More smiling and nodding.

The walking outside thing? Well, that she said wasn't a big deal. Not compared to the other issues.

Heh.

Things are going well here. Still getting three hour stretches of sleep. Pumping more often, getting a little more milk. Tori is still refusing to latch, but we keep trying. Oh, and Hammer finally decided to adopt Tori--yesterday was the first time he came over to sniff her and wagged his tail at her. The cats, however, continue to be utterly horrified.

Lastly, I think I have my Tanya's confused. So if you were the Tanya that sent the adorable Gymboree stuff, those photos were for you, even if you don't live in Japan. Sorry about that!

Have a great weekend, folks. It's gonna be hot here... it might be time for a germ-filled, dirty-hands-holding-the-baby, dangerously outdoor picnic. With a co-sleeping nap, of course.

Howdy

Hellooooo. Reporting in from babyland.

Oh fuck. I'm turning into a babydust person. Help!

We're doing pretty well. Tori is gracing us with three hour stretches of sleep at night, although I feel pretty much like I need about 3 days of sleep to feel normal. Some of that has to do with a possible infection going on in my incision site, I suspect. Because I'm actually sleeping between 9 and 12 hours a day and still feeling tired.

Otherwise I feel good, except for lingering pain (now making it eight hours between pain pills!). The only odd thing is the lumps I have under the incision--one egg sized--that aren't sore or tender but very firm and a bit uncomfortable. Plus, those darn staples are pokey. I see Dr. Mama on Friday to get those out, thank god (yes, we left them in extra long due to my giantness).

Speaking of Dr. Mama; can we all just pause for a moment and talk about how frickin' awesome the man is? God bless him. Stay tuned to Charlie's blog; he's planning to do a post about Dr. Mama that will include pictures (actually, his blog may end up being the primary photo destination)! I showed Menita his photo and she said, "Dang, you didn't tell me he was so cute!"

I know the other big question everyone wants to know about is breastfeeding. I'm only going to tell you what's going on if we all promise an assvice moratorium. M'kay? Not that I'm opposed to suggestions, it's that I already have plenty. Promise. So, moving on...

Well, good and bad. In the hospital, nursing was impossible. She was too sleepy (common preemie issue) and there were also the following issues: my mammoth breasts--which are not only bigger than Tori's whole body but also have nipples pointing out and down, which is fun; my belly being so swollen with fluid and air after the surgery that there was no space to hold her in; and my too short arms. There was literally no physical way for me to hold her and get her latched. Plus she really didn't know what to do. We completely confounded the hospital's lactation consultant (which was kind of fun).

So I pumped what I could. It wasn't much for a long time--the double whammy of placenta abruption and c-section kept my milk from coming in for five days. In lieu of nursing, we did a lot of "kangaroo time" meaning Tori laid on my bare chest wearing only a diaper; this supposedly helps stimulate the boobs to some extent (it did cause some uterine cramping, so that was good, in a way). It's finally in now (with no pain or engorgement, knock on wood); I can pump 3-4 oz three times a day (I know I should pump more, if she's not nursing. I'll get there).

We've been persisting in trying to get her latched; it's clear that she really wants to nurse, and I find that I really want to nurse her, so we've kept on trying (only quitting when she gets too frustrated). Monday night, it finally happened. She latched for twenty minutes on each boob. She persisted in latching for the next three feedings! It was very exciting.

Then last night and this morning she simply refused to latch, crying her heart out instead. My friend Jo said to try to start a little earlier, not wait until she's so hungry, which sounds like good advice (Jo is hoping to become a lactation consultant). We'll keep on trying. Tori is now eating more than 50% breast milk, either from me or a bottle, so that's got to be good.

We see her pediatrician on Friday for the first time; I can't wait to see what she weighs. Her little legs, so scrawny at birth, are filling out nicely.

So, there is your update.

Today we all felt brave enough to venture out and take Tori to meet Charlie's mom, her other grandmother... it was a great visit, and love at first site. For Charlie's mom anyway.

Tonight we're hitting a meeting, cause Cecily is on narcotics and needs to share about it (my insurance plan actually substituted Percocet with Oxycodone. Um, yeah). On that fun note, I leave you with a couple of photos of Tori wearing a needlessly adorable outfit: Tanya in Japan, these photos are for you! Your generosity is unbelievable. And I loved the flowers!

SPFAHH

* Something Pretty Fucking Amazing Has Happened

Yep, it's me. Home home home. With little Tori.

There is so much to say... and no way to say it without sounding like a smitten lunatic. Things like, my god, she's so perfect. And she's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. My mom described her tiny little cries as "soap bubbles bursting" and it's true.

Yep. Smitten.

First off, I have to say something to those still on that infertility fucking boulevard. Seriously. Before my blog of happy parenting becomes an unsafe place for you.

It's all worth it.

Once they hand you that kid--tell you it's yours--in one swift second it all becomes nothing compared to the beauty you are holding in your arms. And I'm not just talking about giving birth; I was out completely for the birth and didn't see the baby for eight hours afterwards--she could be from Mars for all I know--it's about that moment when you know, for sure, you are now officially a parent.

It's all so fucking worth it.

It kills me how much I love her already. Deeply, completely, and wonderfully. She is my darling. I have to take back every negative thought I had about Attachment Parenting, because I hate putting this baby down. Of course we're co-sleeping. I can't stand to have her away from me.

I never want to let her go.

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I wanted to thank you all for your comments. I have read them all, I promise. You'll have to forgive me, though, just this once...I'm not going to reply to them all. I'll do my best to respond from here on out, but those last, um, 1000 or so comments are going to have to live with just being read. OK?

Thanks also to Elise and Sarah for updating everyone. I told you we wouldn't leave you in the lurch! I tried very hard to get access to a computer in the hospital, but short of knocking out the nasty woman at the front desk of the unit, there was no way. We somehow managed to head off to the hospital without the laptop ... can't imagine why.

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And now a word about the delivery itself. Why can't I do anything normally? There is a 1% chance of placenta abruption occuring in every pregnancy. Why mine?

Dr. Mama asked me on Friday night (when he came by and spent an HOUR with us) if we were traumatized by the experience. All I could say to him was, well, if we've learned nothing else in these last few years, it's to let go of expectations. Honestly, the only thing I regret about not going through labor is sharing that experience with Charlie and Sarah. That would have been really cool.

But because it was all so fucking scary--I mean, I've never seen so much blood (except in the movies). Here's how it all went, if you are interested...

I woke up about 9:50am, slowly realizing I was having some mild cramps. "How odd." I thought to myself, "Those feel just like menstrual cramps." So I grabbed a tissue and stuck it between my legs and it came up soaked in bright red blood. I stood up, fast, opened the bedroom door and hollered to poor Charlie (on the toilet), "We have a problem!" and in that motion, I gushed. Blood poured down my legs and pooled on the carpet. I grabbed a pillow case and shoved it between my legs and waddled towards the bathroom.

I plopped down on the toilet and felt something fall out. Something big. I leapt up, hoping to be able to see what it was (for some reason, I thought maybe it was the baby's arm--how fucked up is that?) and couldn't--the bowl was full of blood. So I did what any rational person would do--I stuck my hand in there and pulled it out.

It was a clot, bigger than my hand.

We called the labor and delivery room, they said, "Get your ass in here now" or something like that. Charlie was dressed and ready to go by 10:05, but I poked around gathering things (I know!) and we finally left at 10:15. Oh, and I insisted that we use the Doppler and listen to Tori before we left--and I'm so glad we did. Her heart was beating away, and I could hear blood flow in the placenta (the last 20% of it that was attached, apparently).

The hospital is about 40 minutes away. Charlie ran a bunch of lights and we got there by 10:45 (I joked that if a cop stopped us, I'd just pull the wad of blood soaked paper towels out of my crotch and wave them at him).

Charlie ran in and got a wheelchair for me. A too-small wheelchair, which was funny when I got to the PETU and stood up and the chair stuck on my ass for a second. The elevator took FOREVER to get there, and some poor clueless woman on a cell phone pushing a stroller managed to meander by and prevent us from being able to get on it. Charlie had a few choice words for her (I believe "Get off the fucking phone!" and "This is a public space!" were used), and she looked deeply offended (but she was French, so it was hard to tell) and some nice man also waiting was able to smooth everything over, even while Charlie yelled things like "MY WIFE IS BLEEDING OUT!"

The staff at the PETU was AMAZING, I must say. I was naked and on my back in under ten seconds, and suddenly Dr. Mama was there. He said, "I'm here--it's going to be OK!" and then ran off to secure a surgery room (my apologies, by the way, to the twin mom whose scheduled c-section we bumped).

Now, I've been watching ER for years, and I have to tell you, being that patient that is being wheeled down a hallway by running doctors and nurses (one nurse actually securing my IV as she ran alongside my bed) is not fun at all. But everyone was kind and soothing, and I wasn't too worried. Mostly because, by the grace of God, I could feel Tori moving inside me.

Then I was asleep.

I woke up much later, feeling empty and sore. I was informed that I had a Morphine pump (news that made the the junkie inside me say, "Where have you been all my life?"), that Tori was fine, and I was too. I was surprised. I really thought that I was going to lose my uterus. There was just so much blood.

Charlie came back to recovery, and I could see from the relief in his face that is was all fine. Later Sarah came back with photos of Tori. I just rested. I was weak, in pain, and so fucking tired. I was totally at peace with not seeing the baby, somehow. At least until I got to my room.

Sadly, I got there at 7pm, exactly at the nurse shift change. I began to lose patience and freak out about not seeing Tori pretty quickly then. She finally was in my arms at 7:45, and that was officially the best moment of my life.

She's just so damn beautiful.

I'm going to stop now; there's lots of other funny stuff, like Sarah wiping the blood off my feet the next day (I said, "There is something rather biblical about this") and my minister dropping by and doing a blessing for Tori using lavender-scented lotion (we couldn't find any oil). But Tori's been in the bassinet this whole time (she's actually in the Bugaboo--photos pending, I assure you) so I'm going to go torture her with kisses.

Thank you, everyone, for walking this long road with me. I find myself suddenly at a crossroads--the road of infertility and loss and grief behind me, and now I'm standing at the road of normal fucking parenting. It won't be easy to make the change. I hope you all can bear with me.

My heart is full of love for all of you! Well, what's left in there after Tori has taken up so much space anyway.

:)

New photos...

Hi, it's Sarah again with a brief update!

I had a lovely visit again this evening with the new family and brought my daughter and husband to meet Tori Anne. We ordered in food and had dinner together, my daughter fed Tori a bottle and burped her and even helped change her.

She then began asking Pete and I if we intend on having a baby of our own. That question has become harder to answer, frankly!

Cecily is still doing well and healing. We took two laps around the hospital floor and she had done so this morning also. Victoria is an unbelievable, mellow, sweet and wonderful baby. She hardly cries at all so far. ;-)

I don't think I'll be updating again, so don't panic! Of course I will let you know if anything major happens, but I would rather have you wait now for Cecily to get back on here, which should be Sunday night or Monday.

I took a bunch more photos and have put them in a set on Flickr, which you can go check out by clicking on this photo:

xo

Sarah

More From Sarah

I just couldn’t let all you faithful and generous and lovely readers go tonight without another update. The love and support you’ve shown her and Charlie through this journey has helped them so much, and me. Thank you. I printed out the entries Elise and I wrote and a small sampling of the comments (like the first 100 about) for her to read today.

I spent a lovely few hours this afternoon alone with just Cecily and Tori (Charlie had gone home to clean up and do laundry and get some more things before returning).

It should be no surprise to anyone that Cecily is being remarkable. I got there at noon and she had been off the morphine and magnesium and had the catheter removed since 11am. She decided she wanted to stand up and go pee after she handed me the baby. She stood up and said, “Oh, there’s blood running down my leg.” So matter-of-fact! There was, and it was dripping onto the floor, but she was unfazed. She dripped all the way to the bathroom where she did pee successfully. Then she sat in the chair because she was tired of lying down for so long. She called the nurse to let them know she made a bit of a mess…the nurse loves her, of course, and when she arrived was stunned that Cecily was sitting in a chair and had already been to the bathroom.

I gave her Tori to nurse then. Cecily said they had been struggling a little bit, but sounded so relaxed about it when she said, “She’ll get it.” Apparently I was a good luck charm this afternoon (or maybe Tori was real hungry), but she was latching on very well! She isn’t getting quite enough yet, so they are supplementing with the formula the hospital provides for now, and the baby downed almost 3 ounces right there in front of me.

Cecily said she was surprised at herself to find how much she wanted to breastfeed once she began. She is the most natural mother, people. I mean, seriously…she looks as if she’s been toting around a baby her whole life. Charlie brought her pumping equipment late afternoon just as I was leaving because Cec wants to get started with it right away.

Little Victoria was even more beautiful today than yesterday, something I would not have thought possible. Cecily is doing so wonderfully…in discomfort, of course, but joyful. She had the drain from the incision taken out while I was there, and the thing WHISTLED! We had a good laugh over that…it sounded like someone letting the air out of a balloon real slowly. She hadn’t been given anything, not even Tylenol, after going off the morphine, and was now in some more pain, so we had the nurse come give her some T3 and Motrin.

Cecily has a private room and one of the super-tricked-out beds that hardly anyone gets, and they have a cot set up for Charlie who is sleeping over with her. Tori has been with them the whole time, so it is a nice cozy set up.

They are supposed to be in the hospital until Sunday and I don’t know if that will change or not. If anything I would guess she’d go home early since she’s such an overachiever! She did some slow walking back and forth a few times the second time she went to pee while I was there because it is supposed to help her heal faster.

As usual, I am in awe of her.

xo

Sarah