Jori's little 3am "comedy" routine

OK, it takes a LOT to get us to laugh uncontrollably while changing a diaper at 3 am, but Jorian was a total ham last night - his humor was a bit scatalogical and delivered completely deadpan, but hilarious just the same.

During a feeding, he had a little explosion that usually indicates that he just pooped. Normal enough - time to cue the live-in daddy diaper change service...

[As a bit of backstory, the last few days, Jori had been acting a bit gassy (or "windy" as they said on one of the British mums' chat groups we found online), so we had been replicating what one mum called her "baby yoga" routine. Some slow clockwise massage of his abdomen, some bicycling of the legs, then prayer-position feet with some lifting of his lower body... Amazingly, this method has been remarkably "efficient" at producing the desired effect.]

So I tried baby yoga last night to facilitate or expedite the "second coming," as we've been affectionately calling his two- or three-part bowel movements. To no avail... YET...

Moving over to the changing table, where I had pre-arrayed two clean diapers (part of my whole "system" that's developed while changing the 110+ diapers of last week), I set to cleaning up his little bum. All clean, I started wrapping him up in a clean diaper, when a seemingly massive quantity of fresh poo soiled diaper #1. A quick wipe & dry and he was ready for the "backup" diaper #2 - which he promptly projectile pooped into.

All out of diapers, I was reaching down to get a fresh one from the drawer, when he pooped ALL over the waterproof changing pad cover. At which point, sleep-deprived mom and dad were just busting up laughing. Ever the professional, Jorian never broke his deadpan visage, though I could detect a hint of a satisfied look on his face.

[Maybe he's been reading up on comedy/joketelling, but Jori seems to know that the third time you do something (adding a twist or variation), it's for some inexplicable reason much funnier than the first two passes...]

Hope you find this story as amusing as we did...

Mastering Mastitis

Over the past few days, I've been getting a thorough education in just how tough moms really have to be. Two days ago, my right breast started to feel like some sort of crazy rock garden and latching on (which, for those of you who don't breastfeed, is the moment when the baby starts to suckle) gave the equivalent sensation to putting one's nipple in a vise and twisting. I was so far gone on sleep deprivation that I considered the above symptoms within the realm of "normal."

It was only when Charlie questioned me for the third time that we took my temperature and discovered I had a fever of 102 and, according to our midwife, mastitis. So now I am taking antibiotics every six hours plus tylenol to keep the fever down and a persistent marathon-length headache at bay. I was initially concerned that the drugs might affect my breastmilk, but the midwife said they're safe for the baby.

With all of this, though, I'm not hesitating for a moment about my committment to breastfeeding. Though momentarily excruciating when he starts, I love that blissed-out look he has at the end of a feeding and I feel such a sense of accomplishment that I am providing him all the nutrients he needs to grow strong.

Sleep, lack of pain, showers, eating at normal mealtimes, speaking in intelligible sentences; they're all overrated next to being Jori's mom.

Some of our favorite mugshots of Jorian... thus far...

Jorian's first week at home

From the routine schedule of the NICU and hospital, we returned home... to very little routine whatsoever - day & night blurred, adult mealtimes shifted to accommodate infant mealtimes and diaper changes, altered conceptions of daily "accomplishments" - yes! I got dressed AND showered before 5 pm!

But after a while, we have found a pattern that simply revolves around Jorian's needs and seems to work pretty well (at least until it changes):

• Sleep when he does (easier said than done)
• Feed him when he shows early hunger signs and before he cries (he gets a little spastic when he's "beyond" being just a little hungry, which makes feeding challenging for all parties involved)
• Change his diaper when he's in a food coma, not when he's hungry (unless you want to wake him or piss him off)
  
• Eat when possible (don't defer so long that "hunger insanity" sets in)
• Change his diapers regularly (to prevent seemingly unexplainable upset episodes)
• Accept help from others - our support network has been amazing!
  
• Remind oneself (constantly) to be amazed at how awesome this little creature is!
  

A little vignette: Last night, when Jori was in a Quiet Alert state of consciousness, I found that he could already turn his head (when lying on his back) to find me when I had moved out of his field of view. Later that night, he even moved just his eyes to find me, not his whole head. Amazing baby trick!

Another fun (very San Francisco) baby activity I just finished: getting him to suck 10 billion "probiotic" bacteria off my finger to colonize his gut after his initial formula feeding... Again, the things you'll do for your child...

And now some thoughts from Alison:

Between yesterday and today, I learned that one's entire outlook on life can really hang on two hours, plus or minus, of sleep. After a challenging night of nursing when Jori wanted to put everything in the world in his mouth BUT my nipple, I was congratulating myself on my coping skills - that is, until I hit rock bottom at 5 pm yesterday, at which point I collapsed. That was one of those moments that I thanked my lucky stars that I have Charlie. We all got into bed, ate macaroni and cheese together, and Charlie read to me from a children's book. When it comes to sleep deprivation, one of the best ways to handle it is to pretend you are a kid - eat comfort food, get into bed, and have a bedtime story! At one point last night when Jori was feeding, I looked up at the wall, which could be seen faintly by the glow of the nightlight. We had hung three photographs near his changing table: two of me pregnant and the third of the three of us exactly one week after Jorian was born. All over again I was hit with a sense of wonder - that this little miracle was with us.

Jorian Shea means "magical abundance." Though I do know exactly how he got here (and I'm not likely to forget the 14-hour labor), his presence in our lives does feel magical. I hope that I never lose that sense of being in on a stupendous secret. I've always known "where babies come from," but the reality of having a baby is something new and awe-inspiring. Even through the haze of sleep deprivation and a steep learning curve and all the worries we've endured over the last week, the mere fact of Jori overwhelms me with joy.

Jorian's first days

Well, here goes nothing... Our first attempt at a blog. The things you do for your kids...

Since this story belongs to all three of us (but only two can write at the present time), we're posting our comments either in Roman type (Charlie's words) or Italic type (Alison's words).

Here goes:
Jorian was born on March 16th, 2009, at St. Luke's Hospital in the Mission District of San Francisco. His vitals were 7 pounds 12 ounces in weight, 20.5 inches in length, APGAR of 9, and 100% pure crying spunk. He was birthed after an unmedicated 14-hour labor. To everyone's surprise, he came out "sunnyside up" or forehead first, which meant a lot more work for mom pushing him out. But she did it! Immediately after birth, he got some cherished skin-to-skin time with mom and then dad.

After about 10-15 minutes in the outside world, however, he started having some problems - some grunting while breathing, some uncharacteristic leg twitches, and then he stopped breathing for what seemed like an eternity to dad (but was probably only a minute or so). A few puffs from the positive pressure oxygen mask and he was breathing (and screaming again). From this point forward, it was a whirlwind of activity surrounding the little guy - IV's placed, blood drawn, brain ultrasounds done, vitamin K injected, etc. Next thing we knew he was in the NICU. It turns out that he had low sodium levels in his blood, which most likely led to his earlier twitching. Hmmm, since his blood chemistry is pretty much his mother's blood chemistry at birth, what about Alison? A quick blood draw later, they confirmed that Alison also had low sodium levels, perhaps from drinking too much water during labor (but noone really knows why this happened - it's a rare occurrence).

In the St. Luke's NICU, Jori was separated from his mom (who was having her sodium tended to), so I spent a lot of time with him reassuring him and talking to any nurse or doctor who happened to pass by.

As time went on, they seemed to become more sure that it was "just" a sodium problem and not something else. The catch? They didn't feel that they could regulate his sodium safely in their NICU (a level 2 site), so he needed to be transferred across town to CPMC-California Street (which has a level 3 facility). This meant we needed to make the heart-wrenching decision to separate mom & baby for the first night of his life - not exactly the bonding experience we were anticipating. But the ambulance transfer went smoothly and he arrived safely at CPMC's NICU, where he was tended to by some wonderful, caring nurses.

A quick aside: we were and are immensely grateful for the help and assistance of Andy (Charlie's brother) and Bob and Ginger (Alison's parents), who took care of all the nitty gritty stuff we were unable to tend to on our own. Cars were ferried, changes of clothes were provided, Alison's students were notified - they just did it all! THANKS! We also appreciated the moral support of Charlie's parents, Sandi and Bill, who were there with us in spirit, though not in person.

While at CPMC that first night and most of the next day, Jori was first on IV fluids (sugar & salts), but ever so gradually "weaned" to formula feeding from bottle (another unwanted but necessary reality for what we hoped would be a purely breastfed baby). I got to change his diapers, give him his first bottle, and hold him to reassure him.

St. Luke's expedited Alison's discharge the next day (once her sodium levels had stabilized) so that she could be reunited with Jori and me...

After a night that alternated between exhausted sleep, vivid dreams, and wakeful worrying about Jori, I was relieved when morning finally came and the doctors pronounced me fit to leave. My mother had been a rock for me, staying overnight with me in the hospital room, helping me to the bathroom, and gently reassuring me as my anxious thoughts ran themselves in circles. My father picked both of us up from the hospital and brought us back to our apartment, where I quickly showered and gathered the necessary items for another hospital stay. At that time, I had no idea how long we would be away.

Upon arriving at CPMC's NICU and seeing through the window of the locked ward Charlie's face and an incubator that looked like more wires and technology than I ever anticipated seeing around my child, I started crying, which I'm sure helped release the flow of colostrum that I so wanted to provide Jori. Here I am after finally getting him in my arms, only my second time holding him in his short life.

My consuming thought was to get him off of formula as soon as possible, and with that in mind I retired to the "pump room" to attempt to jump-start milk production. It's a very strange feeling to sit in a small room that looks like a doctor's office waiting room, except that instead of going into the office, you get hooked up to a "breast pump machine" that rhythmically squeezes your nipples forward and back. For the first time in my life, I felt real kinship with dairy cows. On a more serious note, though, it was deserted for most of the time I was there and I had plenty of time to think about our little guy and hope that no lasting damage had been done.

We spent a quiet night at the hospital and arrived in the NICU at 7 am the following morning, ready to do whatever it took to get Jori stable enough to come home.

Our time together at CPMC was regulated by the patterns of hospital life: nurse shift changes, formula feedings every three hours, breast pumping, passing meetings with neonatologists, neurologists, EEG technicians, lacatation consultants, and the like. Although we obviously would have preferred not to be in the NICU, we felt very strongly that they did a fantastic job caring for him and are grateful for their kindness and attentiveness.

My parents were extremely helpful trekking across town to bring us our car and changes of clothes. All in all, though we were extremely glad for the care Jori received, we were even gladder to go home.

Our homecoming and the beginning of our new life together: