Sleepless Nights

Author: Veronica

  • Not a bad day. Despite the jaundice,

    The point of this blog, as well as being a place to save my sanity, was always going to be so that I had a record of what was happening in my life at any given time. I know that some people will not be terribly impressed by my day to day reporting of things Evelyn did, but these are the things that I don’t want to forget. Hence, publishing them here. The fact that I have friends reading and supporting me is just an (awesome) bonus.

    Tomorrow is day three, and that is when they will start talking about sending me home. Frankly, I’m terrified. Probably because I know what my hormones have been like and I know I’ll cry. Lots.

    Tonight’s midwife prepared me for this – bearing in mind that she had a baby born early and is both sympathetic and understanding. I need to get breastfeeding established, and doing that when I am not available to feed her as much as possible would be a struggle.

    But it might be okay.

    Evelyn had formula overnight for her top up feeds, and I am okay with that. But I’m a bit bothered that her top ups have to be so huge in a babe so tiny, meaning that she wasn’t hungry at her next feed, because the 20 mls of extra milk were still hanging around in her belly.

    That said, she fed well at midnight, breastfeeding for 21 minutes straight.

    She’s not had any formula since 6am however, and has fed quite well today, with top ups of breastmilk only. This is where I am incredibly grateful that I’ve never had milk supply issues and don’t seem to be having them this time either.

    I managed to have her in the ward with me for a fair bit of time today too, snuggled up inside my clothes, skin to skin. Unfortunately, her billirubin levels are up and she’s gone a sunny shade of suntan, so she’s now having to spend her time snuggled into a billiblanket. UV blue suits her.

    I can’t seem to upload photos to the blog from my tablet so if it’s photos you’re after, my Facebook page has some, as does twitter/instagram. She’s very cute and I am in love.

    For those who are wondering, Amy and Isaac are also in love. Isaac is showing some signs of anxiety, but Amy is just concerned that she can’t cuddle her sister yet. They both got to snuggle her (while she was inside my top) this afternoon, as well as getting to kiss her. I imagine Amy will be excited to share that she has a sister now when she goes to school tomorrow.

    Finally, Internet, thank you so much for all of your support. You’ve kept me company while I’ve been pumping, shared stories that made me feel less alone and been generally all around awesome. I could not be more grateful.

  • NICU is a rollercoaster

    NICU is a rollercoaster. And I say that knowing full well that the only challenge Evelyn faces currently is feeding and gaining weight, which are not the major challenges a lot of early babies face.

    We went this from this morning being told that if she fed well, she would be moved onto the ward with me, to finding ourselves having to put in an NG tube after a few bad blood sugar readings. Then a few great blood sugar readings, (potentially making the NG tube null and void), back to crap readings and knowing that the ward was well out of her reach currently. From breastfeeding on demand, I’m now having to express an extra 20mls of milk to top her up after each feed. Not a huge deal, but my milk isn’t in yet. Formula is not the devil, but I’d prefer to avoid it if I can.

    Evelyn’s heels are red raw from the blood draws and the nurses are getting progressively unhappier about having to take more blood.  We won’t talk about the bruising from her IV (unneeded and since removed), or the allergic reaction her arm had to the tape that was used to secure it.

    Hormones don’t help, and everything u psets me, but mostly the thought of having to go home and leave her here, an hour away. Not that we’re at that point yet, but it’s on the cards at this stage.

    They’re still thinking that she is close to 36 weeks, her strong suck (when she finally latches) don’t speak of a baby younger than that.

    But it still sucks. Also sucking is hospital food. What kind of fish burgers have spiky bones in them? Mine, apparently.

    Blech. It will be okay.

  • Welcoming…

    We are delighted to announce the safe arrival of Evelyn Kathleen. Born at 4.02pm and weIghing 2.385kg (5lb2oz).

    Evelyn is spending some time in the Special Care nursery, just while they assess her feeding. However she has avoided a nasal gastric tube, due to her ability to breastfeed for 40 minutes straight. Not bad for a suspected Preemie. (34ish weeks, but she’s acting like a 36+ week baby at present.)

    I am doing as well as can be expected, which is to say I am hormonal and teary. But my vagina isn’t broken and that is always a bonus!

  • Progressively expanding

    Here I am at almost 35 weeks, by the original reckoning. Of course, no one knows anymore exactly how far along I am, so who knows? It’s possible I’m 38 weeks, and probable that the babe is measuring close to 39 weeks at this stage.

    Me however, I’m in the hell that is prelabour. Crampiness, pressure, bloody show and not a baby to show for it. It’s pretty crap. The hell that is prelabour means that my creative thoughts are limited to:

    “Prelabour sucks.”

    “God I am sick of being pregnant.”

    “Dear baby, can you just come out now?”

    “This sucks.”

    Which, as you can imagine, is not terribly conducive to writing a blog. I’m also trying to get my headspace sorted out, because the last time I was this pregnant, my grandmother was dying. It’s a bit headfucky and I miss her terribly right now.

    In conclusion, I’m very ready to meet my daughter, and grief is not a linear event.

    How are you?

     

     

  • On trust issues and labour

    I have pre-hospital nerves. This shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. My good experiences with the doctors at the hospital can be counted on one hand and having a gentically rare condition that went undiagnosed for years doesn’t help.

    Being told that you’re faking illness when you’re not, tends to lend a certain level of distrust to any further medical interactions.

    It’s hard, knowing that I am going to give birth sometime soon and not entirely trusting the team that I may end up with. For the two births I’ve had, one was a disaster and one was amazing. Both of these were due to the medical team that was part of the proceedings.

    I’m writing this, just to get it out of my head. If I can talk through my distrust of the entire medical system, then maybe I can get over it enough to stop stressing about going into the hospital when I go into labour. Maybe I can move past it and relax enough to let my body do what it wants to do.

    I’m sure it will be okay. This is my third baby and I know what I am doing. I am also not a teenager anymore, being popped into the “naughty girl” box.

    I’m sure it will be fine. I just needed to talk about it.