Diaper Dilemas

We had the best of intentions. A baby uses approximately 10,000 diapers which seems like an environmental disaster when using paper. So Jack began his days sporting cloth diapers, thanks to the generousity of my Dad who gave us 6 weeks of a diaper service. (To be fair, cloth are also a bit rough on the environment when you consider the water needed to soak, rinse, wash, and rinse all those diapers - not that I'm trying to justify anything.) But little Jack is a sensitive fellow. As soon as he gets wet he gets mad, which means crying, and this boy gets wet A LOT! It is not unusual to go through 5 diapers in less than 10 minutes. He will wake himself up out of a deep sleep because his diaper gets wet and then not go back to sleep and instead fuss for an hour. We had been using paper diapers at night to keep things easy - at one 3am change Dan finished putting on the diaper only to look down and realize that the clean diaper was still sitting on the changing table, he had put the dirty one back on. We also use paper when we go out so it is easier to throw or pack out the dirty ones. So, given that we use paper half the time and when we do use cloth we not only go through countless changes, but the level of fussiness in the house is increased we have decided to drop the cloth and make the move to paper. We don't feel great about it environmentally speaking, but the instances of crying in the house have decreased which feels wonderful. And if the guilt gets bad enough we can always buy some carbon offsets.

Give me 30cc of Turkey Hill, STAT!

"Your malnourished child is trying to claw his eyes out," the peditritian said. Okay, that's not exactally what she said but it is what my sleep deprived new mom brain heard. Jack hasn't been gaining weight as quickly as they would like. At 2 weeks he weighs 9 pounds 11 ounces, still not back up to birth weight. Also, in his fussiness he has scratched his eyes with his sharp little fingernails. I've tried cutting them but am totally chicken. We also tried to file them, but they are paper thin so that didn't work. Now he has scratches on both of his eyes. The doctor gives us a perscription for eye ointment and refers me to a lactation consultant. Dan picks up the RX and we spend the next 5 days, 3 times a day, prying open Jack's eyes while he squirms and cries and smearing the lower lid with ointment - it's amazing he doesn't lose an eye completely. I meet with the lactation consultant the next day. (To throw in a little local color, I park my Ford Explorer a few spaces away from a horse and buggy.) After watching me feed Jack she determines that he is feeding great but may not be getting enough so she sends me home with a digital scale and instructions to weight him before and after every feeding for the next several days. She also thinks that my milk may not have enough fat in it and tells me to get more fat into my diet. I go home, serve myself a bowl of Turkey Hill (a local dairy that makes yummy ice cream and iced teas) chocolate covered pretzel ice cream and prepare to feed Jack. The new routine of weighing extends his already long feeding sessions, they now take an hour or more and as he has decided to eat every 2 hours I am lucky to have 30 minutes to feed myself or use the bathroom before he is ready to go again. After 5 days all the fuss pays off, Jack is up to 10 pounds. I am given permission to stop weighing with every feeding and just weigh him every few days now to be sure he is still gaining. As of yesterday he was up to 10 pounds 10 ounces. I'm now worried that the doc will tell me he is gaining too much weight! I'm trying to justify for myself the 2 servings of Turkey Hill a day. I tell myself that I'm doing it for Jack.

Saint Molly

Mom arrived August 26, two days before Jack, and left 10 days later. While she was here she cleaned, cooked, ran errands, changed diapers, helped with feedings, and snuggled with Jack. She went with us to the hospital and spent some quality time knitting and waiting. She tried to find out what was going on behind the triage doors but, thanks to HIPPA regulations, registration lady was unable to tell her anything. Finally, registration lady showed her human side and said, "You didn't hear this from me but you may want to go to room 68 to see your grandchild." When we got home from the hospital, Mom snapped into action. She arranged for a house keeper to clean the house which was covered in a think layer of dog hair at this point. She cooked us dinner, complete with a little something green. She swept into the room at 5:00am with a smile on her face and took Jack downstairs to snuggle while Dan and I slept for another hour or so. She devised an unusual and successful method to deal with my breastfeeding woes that involved a plastic syringe, 3 pairs of hands, and copious pumping. When Dan drove her to the train station I sat at home nursing Jack and sobbing. I missed my Mommy already.

Hello, Baby Hello

August 28, 2007

The doctors tell me that only 3% of babies are born on their due dates so already Jack is an unusual boy. I had my first contraction at 7:30am, by 8:00 they were only 4 minutes apart. Luckily I had a doctors appointment today anyway so we went in early. At 9:00 I was 1cm dilated and walked from the doctors office down the hall to the hospital. The woman at the check in desk was rather dismissive, when my Mom said she was going to call my Dad to let him know that he was going to be a Grandpa, registration lady sneered at her and said, "I wouldn't be so sure." I was taken back to the triage area and hooked up to a few monitors. Dan and I tried our best to do the breathing we had worked on, but by this point the contractions were pretty painful and frequent so our carefully choreographed pyramid breathing devolved into random panting and hand squeezing. The nurse told me I could walk around the halls for an hour or so but as I can barely stand at this point so I opt for the shower. I stand in the beige shower stall while Dan holds the hand-held shower head against my back and I contemplate pulling the emergency cord for the hundredth time. After half an hour or so the pain has gotten so intense that I feel like I'm blacking out between contractions and the urge to push is overwhelming. Dan stumbles into the hall looking for help where he encounters registration lady. She assures him that the monitors will let us know when it is time to push. Dan informs her that as I am in the shower, there are no monitors and she scampers off to find a nurse. Twenty minutes later the nurse ushers me back to a room, hooks me up to the monitors and tells me, "The midwife Clare is here would you like her to check you?" Hell yes we would like her to check me! She does and I have dilated to 8cm. Suddenly I'm being strapped to the bed and wheeled to the triage operating room where they begin the process of checking me into the hospital - that's right, I'm not even officially registered yet. As I am no longer capable of speech, except to occasionally proclaim, "I want an epidural," Dan answers their questions for me while the nurses start an IV. Then I'm being wheeled down hallways to the delivery room. There has not been time to administer an epidural, or any type of pain medication. I start to push. Strangely, the pushing is less painful than the contractions that got me this far. Dan stands beside me holding my hand and turning slightly pale. In 15 minutes, at 12:55 pm, Jack is born. He weighs 10 pounds 2 ounces. All told, labor took just under 6 hours. We spend the next 2 hours in the delivery room, Dan holding Jack and looking dazed and concerned, me being "repaired" and pummeled by the nurse and midwife. This may be the most painful part of the entire experience and I have to ask them to stop several times. Finally I'm moved to the maternity ward, Jack is taken to the nursery where he will stay for the next few hours. I'm unbelievably hungry, the nurses bring me cranberry juice and peanut butter crackers - by far the most delicious cranberry juice I have ever tasted. Too wired to sleep, I hang out with Dan and my Mom and Jack once he is brought back to us in the room. Dan will stay with me tonight but then has to teach his first class tomorrow. By the time we fall asleep at 9:00 it has been the longest and most surreal day of my life. Jack, my son, is here.