parting is such sweet sorrow

I am starting to sort through Ashlynn's clothes. Culling out the stuff that is too small and adding in the new things that we had not gotten to yet. She is no longer a member of the 0-3 month crowd. There are a few outfits that are 3 month that she fits into. We are now headed into the 3-6 month crowd. As I pull out the outfits that she has worn for the last 13 weeks that no longer fit her... there is a pull on my heart that feels almost melancholy. In the relatively few weeks that we have had Ashlynn a whole trunkful of memories have been made. These outfits have been the attire that the memories wear. Granted as I pull out the 3-6 months I am excited by the new clothes that she can wear... but still I look back at the teeny little tops and the petite little pants and my heart sighs.

I love watching my little girl grow. I revel in knowing that she has gained weight again. ( we went to the doc for her face on Sat 14 lbs flat! Yay!) I adore holding her up and mentioning how big she has gotten... it is a badge of honor almost. "Yes yes she gained another pound this month." "Oh yes my breast milk certainly does seem to be doing the trick." It is exciting to see the new changes that occur every single day. I am in heaven! But then I look at a little top from when she came home and compare it to her. Like Zoinks Scooby, where did my newborn go. I sort of miss the early days when she fit perfectly in my neck and would sleep there for hours. I cherish every smile and hold every laugh dear, I try to live in the minute.... I even sometimes wish that we could fast forward to when she can tell me where it hurts. What I never expected was to wish that I could go back a few weeks.

Now I remember enough about the early weeks to not want all of it back. I would love to have my cuddly little handful back for an hour or so with out the 5 a day poops ( ain't it grand when that slows down!) or the pitfalls of beginning nursing, or the three hour nights of sleep. I have made it through these things and am glad that they are behind me. I was not so sleep deprived in the first weeks that I have idealised it all. Oh yes I remember clearly the first couple of weeks and the certainty that I NEVER WANTED TO DO THIS AGAIN while going through it! I love my daughter, but I have had my moments, just like everyone else, where I've been positive that she would be an only child. Truly who wants to go through it all again. But there is something about how your own newborn cuddles into JUST you that will cannot be compared to anything else in the world.

I have always said that I didn't want a newborn... take me straight to toddlerhood. I have held other's babies and handed them back with out a hitch thinking "Yep its a baby! Don't really want to go through that stage myself. To bad ya gotta to have a kid." Those others would tell me... its different when it is your own you'll see. And I would chuckle at their certainty when I knew me so much better. Then I had my own. I had this 8 lb bundle of heaven that I could barely put down. I could hold her for hours and never get tired of it. I loved her tiny little newborn sounds. I held my breath when she would have the newborn breathing hitches. I gazed adoringly at her teeny newborn hands and feet and could do so happily for hours on end. I fell so in love that I could barely contain it with in my own heart. So here I am three months later, still awed by my child and more in love than ever, looking back and sighing with just a hint of regret that it is all over.

Yes, yes I can hear the chuckles now of the people who have children much much older than mine. I can only imagine that those moments will follow me the rest of my life. As she reaches toddler-hood I will long for the infant days when she learns the word "No" As she rides a bike I will sigh about the day that she first learned to walk. And lets not even look to the day she asks me for the car keys. All things to look forward to... all things to remember with a hint of bittersweet when they are but a memory.

So as I cull out the old clothes and look at the new clothes I know that I will have many many days like this one. I know that I will have more memories than I can count to store in my bank. I also know that I have to enjoy every single millisecond with my daughter. I have to live in the moment and do it well so that I have a treasure trove of memories worth holding on to. So when she grins at me with out her two front teeth I can remember when they first came in and maybe share that memory with her. And won't the sharing of those memories make them all the more poignant

How big is a mountain?

I have learned many things over the past few months...

...that it is possible to love so much that it hurts. I swear it physically hurts. But oh what a wonderful hurt. She takes my breath away. And when I see her with Dave, I wonder sometimes if I will ever be able to get my breath back.

...that there are few things in the world that are as thrilling as a toothless smile... unless you count the sound that accompanies it... not quite a laugh but so close that you can't mistake it for anything else.

...that just when you think that your heart is as full as it can possibly get... there is something more that fills it past the capacity that you thought it had... and that this happens over and over again.

Perhaps the most important lesson that I have learned over the last few months though, is just how much my parents love me.

I have never doubted that they love me. Never for a moment. In a world where every one has "issues" that need to be dealt with, it has become a fad to come from a "dysfunctional family." My family has many dysfunctions to be sure... but lack of love or doubt of love has NEVER been one. I suppose that makes myself and my brothers the lucky ones. In the absolute certainty of the unconditional love sent my way, though I never stopped to think about the magnitude of that love. It never occurred to me to think about it. And why would it? That love has always been there surrounding and enveloping me, keeping me safe and secure. I have never known a moment when that love wasn't there. I have never spent a second wondering if there would be hands there to catch me if I needed it.

When my daughter was born the first few hours I looked at her and all I could think was "Who are you?" It wasn't immediate like in the novels. It took me awhile. Then about 10 hours after she was born when she was first at my breast it hit me. I sat there with my child suckling me in my hospital room just the two of us crying my eyes out: This was what I had been waiting for. What I never expected was that the next day it got bigger, and the next day bigger still. Seeming to double every day, until sometimes it feels like it will explode out of me.

It took having her, though, to know the expanse of that love. Its like half-lives in the opposite direction. The exponential growth of what I feel for my daughter is something that must be experienced to understand. I am powerless to describe it, because there are not words for it. It is like describing the vastness of the ocean to a someone who has never seen it, or the enormity of the mountains to someone who has only ever seen the plains. When it all wells up inside and is ready to spill out onto the floor the simple words... "I love you" seem empty. I have always thought how absurd it is to use words when I am trying to express to tell my husband that he is my life, my all, the very core of my heart. And here now I am faced with the same problem with my daughter: What to say, when words could never do justice to what I feel. It is like trying to catch smoke in your fingers.

It struck me shortly after she was born, that I don't have the words to tell her how much I love her. I will always be tongue-tied when it comes to this subject. So I will fumble through hoping that I can show her the sheer volume of love I have for her. Hoping that she will be able to grasp it, knowing she won't, because I didn't. I have been cared for in every way by my parents. They have stood beside me through every single storm that I have had to weather. I know that they loved me, like I know that the sky is blue or that God is watching... I just know. But then I look at Ashlynn and feel the clunkiness of the words "I Love you", and it floors me: I have been loved that way. I still am loved that way. But it took having my own child to truly grasp the enormity of it. If the trend of exponential growth continues for much longer then there is one more thing I know; I am TOTALLY clueless.

the fight against eczema gets personal

So as you all know we are fighting a continual battle with eczema. Once a week or so Ashlynn's face breaks out and turns fire engine red. The next step we reach is the scabby yellow weepy stage that marks up all of her outfits. Then while her face is raw and weepy all manner of dirt sticks to it... so we end up with patches of dirt that become a part of the skin. The doctor prescribed some 2.5% hydrocortizone cream for her face, and it helps. The problem is that it can cause peeling and loss of pigmentation etc. So I am to take a break from it for the same number of days that I use it. Well I started out with a 5 days on 5 days off regime. I thought that would give it ample time to clear up what had become a terrible case of eczema. Boy howdy did it work. Five days of using that stuff and you could forget that she had skin problems. The trouble came when we took five days off. Her face was getting icky the first day off. Not even a full days break. It got awful. Dave put it best when he said that it felt like we were guilty of neglect on day 3 1/2 off. So we gave up on the 5 days and started a one day off one day on regime.

The problem is that we never really get to the point where her skin clears up well. And by the time we use the cream again it is just in the nick of time to keep from getting too deep into the weepy stage. So treating the symptom is barely working, that means that we should treat the cause. But that is easier said than done. There are no perfumes in any of the products that are used by everyone in our house now. I do not put lotion on that has a scent. We have gotten every cream and lotion that we can imagine to put on her to treat dry skin. We have a humidifier going 24 hours a day.... and have even taken to boiling water on the stove for the moisture. I have removed most all of the know problem foods from my own diet, in case it is an allergy through the food. We have now started giving her sponge baths and with just water, as every soap in the world has caused trouble. I pump and bottle feed when her face is at its worst to keep irritation to a minimum.

Truly it feels like we are fighting a losing battle, as she is covered in the scaley eczema from her elbows to her fingertips, her hips to ankles, her head an neck and all along her chest now. There are few places on my daughters body that are not dry and irritated, and touching her in many places seems like it causes pain. She is in pain and itches. This we can tell by the way that she rubs her face on every thing in reach, or by the way that she moves her head repeatedly back and forth on blankets. We have put socks on her hands because even in her sleep she will rub her face and head with her hands, though to be frank I am not sure that the socks make it better. At least her nails are not cutting her any more. It has become personal this fight with the eczema. I would do anything to keep her from the pain that this causes. Although I seem to be falling behind in the fight.

In sheer desperation last week Dave covered her in olive oil. My Granny had told us how it was the only thing that had helped my uncle Doug's cradle cap. So Dave thought what the hell, how can it hurt. Well it didn't hurt at all.... in fact on her legs and arms it seems to help quite a bit. The only thing is that you have to put it on all the time. We oil her up with every single diaper change and when we think of it in between. Our daughter glistens like she is trying to get a sun tan constantly. Only it doesn't seem to help on the face. Not only that but the olive oil has destroyed several tops for both Dave and I. Not to mention I was shopping today.... and I was wondering what that smell was several times.... when it hit me it was olive oil that Ashlynn had wiped on me. So our miracle cure is imperfect at best.

We are still at the drawing board with this one. And the fight is still very personal. I can handle all of her pictures being red and blotchy. I can handle all of her outfits destroyed by the weepy face or the olive oil. What I cannot handle is the look I see in my baby's eyes when her face hurts and I know that I as of yet don't have the answer. But I will find the cause and I will irradicate it.

From a couple to a few?!?

Dave and I have always made a good couple. We have a lot in common, while having differences enough to make life interesting. We fight knock down drag out style about once a year, and we spat and bicker about once or twice a month. ( read once or twice a week if Dave is quitting smoking again. : ) We both love to laugh and work diligently at doing it often. We both have similar goals and work towards having the same simple life.We have survived a miscarriage, the loss of two children, as well as the hell that his ex put us through and the loss of his two children from that marriage. We have made it through, even though more than 50% of marriages do not survive some of the hardships that we have faced.

One of the major differences between us is the way that we approach change. Dave embraces it and even looks for it. I however avoid change at all cost and when I have to, face it kicking and screaming. So for me the thought of having a child and how it would effect our life was daunting. I was wary. As much as I desired to be a mommy, I did not want to change the wife that I was or the husband that he was. Dave on the other hand approached the coming change in a very Dave way," Relax baby, it will just be us.... with a child. Things won't change that much." I for the record thought that he would be in for a rude awakening. Changes this big don't happen with out huge ripples.
So along comes Ashlynn. And it is yes a huge change in our life. But I couldn't care less about the change when I look at our beautiful little girl. For the first several weeks it was chaos. There was no such thing as schedule. Mom's little black and white world was turned upside down. The couple of weeks after that we got used to the chaos.... Kind of. And now three months later we are cautiously optomistic that we will acheive something approaching normalcy with in the next 18 years or so. Still there are some of the markers of our old life that make us aware of the fact that our life is still ours. We are becoming more and more aware that we are still us, just as Dave said, just with a few adjustments.

We have a very happy smiley little girl who has rounded our life out. There is nothing in this world that makes me happier than hearing my baby and my daughter playing together. There are few things in this world that give me peace in the way that the sight of my daughter snuggled up with my husband, both of them asleep does. So it is like it was, only somehow better, fuller. I guess that Dave and I were both right in a way. We are a family now and that makes for an adventure every day.

That is not to say that Dave and I aren't still very much a couple. We steal our snuggles and sneak our kisses. We have all the more fun for it. On Sunday when we all three pile onto the couch to watch movies and eat snacks, we know the definition of contentment. When we all pile into our bed and sleep all the better for the three of us being together we know what family means. Yes I like our rounded out life. For all the trepidation the contemplation of this change caused, I wouldn't change it for the world...

But God even the thought of having another scares the hell out of me!!!

Always a blessing, never a loss

Today is our daughter Aislynn's birthday. She would be two today. On Saturday she will have been an angel for two years. It is a bittersweet time for me, as I look at my little Ashlynn and glory in what she is accomplishing and imagine what Aislynn would have been. So many dreams were put into that pregnancy, so many that it felt like a heavy loss for a very long time. When I got pregnant with our son Aidan I hadn't truly moved through the grief process for Aislynn like I needed to. I had to face mid pregnancy that I had been looking at this new ( and different) child as a replacement for the one that I had "LOST." So when Aidan was born premature and he was "LOST" also, it made for a very long time a heavy burden. I felt unfairly punished. Until one day I sat outside, and felt the wind and sun relax me. In this relaxed state it came to me that they are not gone. My angels are still with me: whispering encouragement, lending support, and cheering me on. They watch me with their little sister and see the loving care that they would have received had they stayed here on earth. And they are grateful to me for what I have done. My sacrifice as a mother, has created two new little angels.

As I move through the ages and stages with Ashlynn I am so mindful of all of that I have. There isn't a smile or a coo that is taken for granted. One of the blessings of Aislynn and Aidan having been a part of my life is that it has helped me to be a better mommy to Ashlynn. I have never looked with dread at that dirty diaper or that midnight feeding. I instead often spend that time thanking God for the blessing of that diaper or feeding. ( trust me when I say that there hasn't been a day since she was born that I haven't thanked God on multiple occasions at that rate) Not the first response that most have to poop or being woken in the middle of the night, I know.... and yet I am grateful for that poop and the lack of sleep. And if poop has me thanking God than you can understand how a laugh can often get me teary eyed.

I appreciate every moment with my child. What is more I appreciate every moment that I have had with ALL of my children. There were moments in the darkest days that I wondered how I could ever look back on the birthdays of my children with anything but regret. I wondered how in HELL I was supposed to find the good in what had happened. But lets look at the flip side of that. If I only ever looked at Aislynn or Aidan with REGRET than I would be missing the reality of all that they are and were. I was blessed by the opportunity to touch and be touched by an angel for a few short minutes, MORE THAN ONCE. Where is the loss, when you have gained your own personal cheering section of angels?!

As the clock turned over midnight this morning and I was up with my earthly angel feeding her I felt a tinge. To be honest I would call it a sadness or a regret. I thought to myself " Happy Birthday Little Girl" and shook my head. At that moment Ashlynn stopped eating and gave me a milky smile and her little love coo that I get when she is eating. It was a reminder "Hey Mom I'm here." And how true it is. If the world hadn't turned upside down two years ago... I might have a youngster running around and I wouldn't be writing this..... But I wouldn't have had Aidan. If that little bit of ground hadn't fallen from my feet I might be watching as a little boy cruised furniture around the room... But I wouldn't have my earthly angel swinging next to me as I write this. I wouldn't be looking forward to the fact that when I finish this we are going to go play at sitting up and grabbing our feet. I wouldn't see that smile that makes me tear up or hear the laugh that makes those tears well over. I also might not be as willing to give up cleaning or the dishes to play. I might not as happily drop the laundry to hold her while she sleeps. I certainly wouldn't spend the quiet moments Thanking God again and again for the opportunity to be someone's mommy. And while I have spent many a day wishing things could be different I can't wish it too hard any more. I wouldn't give up what I have right here for what might have been.

Happy Birthday Little Girl! Two years as an angel is a big thing. I know that you are looking over my shoulder as I write this nodding your head at the title. Because if there is one thing you never wanted to cause it was hurt. And to be sure, if there is one thing in this world that you want to be to me it is always a blessing, never a loss!

wishing a sleeping dog would have stayed that way

I had intended on a log on the new swing that we got for Ashlynn and how amazing it has been. But it will have to wait. This morning we were forced to make the decision to get rid of our 2 year old male dog. He has been a dear part of our family since he was weaned, and we loved him very much. Seamus was a dog that made us laugh and kept us young. He was our baby, there in lies the problem I guess.

Seamus was gotten for Dave for christmas in 2005. We picked him up a few weeks before Christmas and I carried him home in my coat while I was pregnant..... that is how little he was. He was a goofball from day one and he made us smile as often as he made us crazy, and he did make us crazy. When our first daughter was born premature and passed away 2 days later Seamus was comic relief. He would howl with the fire engines and match pitch exactly, Dave and I would fall over laughing. He would chase his tail, and Dave and I would fall over laughing. He would sit in a chair as a human, and Dave and I would fall over laughing. When I was in the hospital struggling to hold on to the pregnancy of our son, Dave brought me photos of Seamus and our female Abby to brighten my day. When we tragically lost that fight and were mourning our son who lived for 45 minutes Seamus kept us laughing. It is hard to fall into a deep depression when you live with a clown. A clown who insisted on playing ( and playing hard) at least once a day. We would walk into the living room in the morning to be greeted by him flopping onto his back..... if you did not commence to belly rubbing immediately then he would wiggle his entire body and howl at you. He was not one to be ignored easily. He was near to 70 pounds and he thought that it was entirely acceptable that he sit on our laps. He was truly a loved baby.

So what went so wrong. We brought our human baby into the house. When we finally sustained a pregnancy to full term and brought an infant into the house things changed. At first Seamus seemed entirely accepting of Ashlynn. He was real careful if she was in someone's arms and we did all of the things the books said to introduce them. We took every step to make the transition easy. What was not taken into consideration however was that Seamus would see his "daddy" and "mommy" making eyes and playing with a different baby. As I said at first every thing seemed to be fine. Then about a month ago Dave put the baby down by Abby and Ashlynn's little foot hit Seamus: He growled. We were horrified. He had growled at our infant, who at slightly over a month didn't pack much of a punch. We decided that we would have to do some serious training. But then he growled at me. Uh Oh. Our baby dog didn't like being second fiddle. This weekend he got nasty with Dave and he lifted his leg to the baby's new swing. Thank God he didn't ruin anything as he only hit the plastic, but when I went to stop him he growled at me. So Dave loaded him up in the car and took him to the humane society. Hopefully he will pass their test and will be able to find a nice home that doesn't have children in it.

Seamus was a wonderful addition to our home. He helped us to survive some of the hardest experiences that either of us have ever gone through. We are heartbroken, and left wondering if we could have done something more. Still we couldn't wait for something worse to happen, we have worked so hard to have our little Ashlynn. We have been blessed by his presence, and we thank him for the time that he spent with us. We loved him so much and that in and of itself is a wonderful gift.

sing sing sing with a swing

We broke out the swing for the first time today! Wow weeeeee! She loved it. Makes me wish that we had taken that sucker out weeks ago.

I had a hunch that she might like the swing. She is a rocker and a roller to be sure. Now if she weren't I would be wondering if she really had any Ryall in her, because as we all know a Ryall can be spotted by the continuous rocking motion. We have been know to make sailors sea sick. My own father wore out two rocking horses in his day. So the swing was pretty much a given to go over big, and it did. I was able to eat each of my meals today in peace. No continual jumping up to pop a nuk back in, no switch hitting with Dave for eating a meal, no need even to gulp it all down with a speed that rivals the olympic 50 yd dash. I was able to enjoy a relaxing meal with my husband while my angel rocked back and forth calmly taking in all the sights. She didn't even have a nuk in her mouth. Heaven!!!!!

I fear that we may over use the swing in a constant search for that peace. It has been so elusive for the last eleven weeks. Hell lets be honest it has really been elusive since the start of my third trimester of pregnancy. I didn't make it through a meal with out getting up to the bathroom at least once. So here we have a tool that allowed quiet for more than 5 minutes, more than 15 minutes. We were edging up to an hour when she finally seemed to need something more than sitting and watching the world go on.

Not that it will take the place of her rocking. No she will rock for the rest of her infanthood and well into adulthood I would wager.... although I would bet that at a certain point she will not have to be in someone's arms to be rocked. As I post she sits in her daddies lap as he rocks her, she looks quite content. With arms that love her that much around her she may stay there for ever. There are worse places to spend a life.

QUESTION: How do you make a cooing baby scream

ANSWER: get her immunizations.
We had her two month check up on Monday. Along with that particular check up is four immunizations. I have been dreading this day for the last two months. Knowing that I was barely able to deal with it when she had heal pricks for bili-rubin, I was not looking forward to this appointment. My husband had promised that he would go with me so that I would not be alone for this appointment. He ditched me at the last minute, leaving me to be the bad guy that held my little one down while the big mean nurse with the shot had her evil way with her.
It might not have been so bad were it not for the fact that Ashlynn was in such a good mood. Cooing, smiling, and talking away at me with not a thought that there would be anything but a good time coming. That smile turned to misery so quickly it tore my heart out. It didn't help that the nurse who was administering the injections was incredibly slow and moved as if she were under water. I figure that if you have four injections that you should get them done as quickly as possible for the sake of all that are involved. Apparently if you are not the one that is holding the child down and fighting tears back because your little one is hurting, a plodding pace is the best one to take.
The big issue really was that, Ashlynn had never really faced pain. Nor had I as a parent ever had to be party to causing that pain yet. I realize that in the long and the short of it all, the little bit of pain that she felt from the injections that she received is nothing. She will manage to cause more pain to herself in the many wipe outs that are to come throughout the course of childhood. I myself managed, at 8, to rip my leg open down to the muscle and survive being stitched up. As I look back at the incident the part that I remember the most is that it was only the second day of summer break from school and I was on the injured list for the entire summer. I couldn't swim all summer. It sucked. The pain of the initial cut and the shots to numb it and the subsequent healing are a distant memory. The first pain she's ever really felt and there I was holding her down. I should have been boxing that nurse's ears. My child trusts me, I have earned that trust by actively working for the last two months to ensure that even her hunger pangs are distant and cared for immediately.
We survived Monday. We know that Ashlynn is 12 lbs 13 ounces. We know that she is 23 inches long. We know that if mommy has to, she can man up and step to the plate (better than daddy can.) We know that promises of help from my husband are better fiction than what is on the New York Times Best Sellers List right now. We know that Ashlynn has a forgiving nature( or maybe she just forgot already.) As to Ashlynn's mommy's forgiving nature..... peace talks are on going. Mommy's really mad!

to pump or not to pump

Breast-feeding has been difficult over the last week, due to Ashlynn's cold. I suppose when it seems like you are drowning the last thing that you want is to be pressed up to a breast that is full with milk. So since the middle of last week I have been pumping immediately after feeding Ashlynn a bottle. Makes for considerably more work at times.... but in other ways it frees me up a little. " Here hon, will you feed the baby while I make breakfast?" Rather than "I'll make breakfast as soon as she's done eating." Not always a bad deal.
When I first started breast-feeding I wasn't sure that I liked it. I knew that I was doing the best thing for my daughter, but the whole thing seemed somewhat confining and I felt like a cow whose only purpose on the farm was milk. Your life starts to revolve around your breasts or so it seems. They were sore, they were huge, and I was tired, and my daughter wanted to eat constantly. Yes I would reason.... I am the only one who can do this for her, but do I really want to? "Just wait", my mother would counsel. "Don't quit" the lactation consultants would urge. "It really is the best thing for baby" all the web sites laud. So I decided that I would keep it up. What is a year of being a cow? My chest will go back to normal then, I hope. What is a year really?
Through this all my husband has been a strange combination of supportive and a pain in the ass. Urging me to continue for our daughter's sake. Pointing out how quickly she is growing. Even admitting to being slightly jealous. Of course being the block head that he is he also has been calling me "Milk Bags" and "Lunch Box" depending upon his mood. Not the way to help a mother who has just had a child regain the feeling that she is attractive. He always smiles as he is saying it to let me know it is all just in good fun. I have asked him to quit to which I get the response "What, that is exactly what you are right now." I don't have the energy to fight and, why bother? There is a certain amount of truth to it.
You see in the alluring commentary that all expectant mothers read about losing weight while breastfeeding they leave something out. What is not mentioned is that you may weigh less, but you sure look different. There are times that I rival good ole Dolly, who needs augmentation. Other times that I look like my breasts are racing to see who can reach my knees first. And then there are the times when she is not so hungry that makes it really interesting..... because depending on which side you look at I have both going on. Pumping at least makes you even. That has been one benefit of the last weeks illness.
The thing is that despite all of the "down sides" that I have just listed, I realized this week that I really enjoy breast feeding. I miss it. I miss the closeness that Ashlynn and I have while I hold her to my breast. I miss the communion that we seem to have in those moments. Having done both..... I can guarantee that you don't get quite the same experience by holding a bottle. So then I start to worry. There are a lot of babies who won't go back to the breast after bottle feeding for awhile. I start to wonder what I will do. Pumping and feeding is not a method that is meant for the long haul, and she is only 9 weeks old. I don't want to loose our connection. I am willing to be the cow in the pasture for the rest of the year. I will do it gladly God, just please don't change her preference.
Last night we came home from a dinner out and my angel woke up from a nap a little fussy. I tried the bottle. Nope. I tried the paci, NOT on you ever loving LIFE! I tried rocking, Helloooo I'm hungry here. I tried the bottle, I SAID NO! My mother was on the phone with my aunt from Chicago and toldmy mom to tell me to "Put that child to the breast" Well Ashlynn was starting to feel better so I thought what the heck, it won't hurt. I set her to my breast. On she latched and started drinking like a champ. She stopped and looked up and started cooing and smiling at me before she went back to the breast. It was as if to say " Hey Mom I like it too! Don't worry." She has been breast feeding all day today, and I am gratefully a cow again. That isn't to say that I won't use that pump when I need to. It is a pretty handy little tool to have around, trust me.

If it ain't broke there must be a way to fix it

While I was pregnant I read book after book about parenting. They all talked of the worry that new parents face and some of the seemingly unreasonable fears that take over their lives. I read them all scoffing at how I would be different. With all of the problems that we have had over the last two years with pregnancy it seemed that raising the child would be a breeze. I mean she is home with us and she is healthy, the worrisome part for a couple who has lost two babies and miscarried another is over... right? HA!!!
It is hard to explain how after you get home, your worries change. It seems like I am constantly on eggshells. Babies make weird sounds when they are sleeping and breathe in an odd way sometimes, and when you are breast feeding you never know how much the kid is getting. ( the volumes that she pukes should be reassuring, but that in and of itself is worrisome at times.) As I mentioned before, earlier this week I had her to the doctor where I learned that she is a whopping 12 lbs 9 ounces. Or was as of Monday. So the worry of is she growing at the right rate is officially laid to rest.... That is until it has been long enough for that worry to creep back in. It doesn't really matter that her little thighs are starting to have rolls and look like she is working at becoming a sumo wrestler. Nor does the fact that she now has double chins really enter into the equation. You see all of my worries are as I said earlier unreasonable. Dave has said that if I don't have something legitimate to worry about I will make something up.
Let me qualify all of this: I wouldn't call my worry fear, nor would I say that I worry so much that I am not enjoying my daughter. Quite to the contrary I am thoroughly taken with my daughter and all that she is learning and the changes that occur in her every day. It is just that I have never been responsible in this way for another's well-being. She is helpless and it is my job to ensure that her needs are met, and even nine weeks after she was born I still wonder if I am getting it right. My cousin Chris e-mailed me while I was pregnant and told me that I was in for the most awe-inspiring love in a few weeks. She said that she knew that I thought I loved the baby while carrying her, but that I would see. She couldn't have been more right. I have never felt a love as consuming as I feel for my daughter, but that doesn't help the worrying thing though does it. It has never mattered quite like it does now. I guess there is the rub. Here I am a rational adult who has been accused of being logical at times, and I am a victim to illogical worry. Spock would be ashamed.
I guess though that this is what I have to look forward to for 18 years. Or so the Doc said on Monday, and then he stopped and said "No, you never really stop worrying. Even when they have their own lives and children you still worry. Welcome to parenthood." Over all I would say that a little bit of worry is a fair trade for the enriched life that I have now with my daughter a part of it. Maybe someday I will be able to approach it all in the laid back manner that Dave has.... until then I thank God I have him. He is often able to insert a little bit of perspective, and he just may ensure that our daughter doesn't grow up as anxious as her mommy.

humidifiers, tylenol, and hysterics

Okay so hysterics is probably a strong word. We are however surviving Ashlynn's first cold and it is nasty. It fell the grown adults who suffered through it. My poor mother had two weeks off of work and has spent the entire time sick. My brother hasn't been seen for three days and if he doesn't come out of his room soon we will be sending in a search party. Ashlynn was a sitting duck, although everyone worked actively to insure that she wouldn't get it. My brother Shawn is actively avoiding the entire family, until he is certain that the infestation is over.
On Friday she had me up until 3 AM feeling cruddy and on Sat both her dad and I agreed that we should go to the immediate care clinic right away..... we got there and heard people talking about being there for 31/2 hours and we started to wonder if her cough wasn't starting to sound better. Then someone walked in with a cough that guaranteed that he had the plague and should have been quarantined. We decided that it was maybe not such an emergency after all. We left immediately hoping to ensure our daughter's health. Instead we went home to rough it. Not that with my mom, who handily enough lives right next door, being a pediatrics nurse we were in any real danger of not surviving it. And like any new mother whose infant is sick.... I wanted my mommy!! She and I took Ashlynn to her own doc on Monday. We were in and out in less than an hour and there wasn't a soul in the waiting room except us. Not a bad scenario in my own opinion. The diagnosis... the common cold, the remedy.... time. Well I guess I was expecting that really.... I just wanted to hear it from a trained professional.
So off we were to Target and came home armed with a humidifier, nasal drops, a bulb aspirator that can be cleaned from the bottom ( what a concept!!!), and infant Tylenol drops. Ashlynn has divided her time between the car seat and our arms for sleeping during the day (so that her head is elevated) and for sleeping at night I propped her in the Boppy between Dave and I in the bed.... It works like a charm. Now I know that every advocate for SIDS awareness is gasping audibly with dismay, but it really works. Besides just between you and me she has been sleeping in bed with Dave and I since two nights after she came home from the hospital. For my own protection my legal counsel has insisted on the following disclaimer: The comments made in this writing are in no way advocating that you should put your baby to bed with a pillow and that all instructions for use on the package should be followed for proper use. LOL
Poor Ashlynn was so stuffed up that her eyes were redder than a person with 14 cats who is allergic and watering to the point that we couldn't keep up. The doctor came in and took one look and asked me.... " What have you been DOING to this poor child?" When I protested in my own defense that my mother was at fault having brought the cold home.... he told me " No, no it is never the Grandmother's fault. It is always the mother's fault..... Grandparents like grandchildren are perfect." I do have to admit that she looked like she had been walloped in both eyes. She is looking much better now. As Doc was telling me that I was looking forward to a fussy baby for 7-14 days the baby in question started talking to him and cooing at him. Doc looked at her and told her to knock it off that it was proving him a liar. Through all of this we have only had one fussy night and she still is smiling and cooing like a champ. I am the luckiest mom in the world!
if there is one plus in all of this.... her little face is starting to clear up. Now though the eczema is all around the top of her head and on her little hands and elbows. Through the entire pregnancy I was praying that she would get her dad's skin not mine. Well I just found out today from his mom that the Boke side of the family has some of the same issues..... She was doomed. Ah well. Even with the little rash she is beautiful. It truly freaks me out though when it gets all yellow and scaly. Even though I have read up on the condition and know that it is a natural part of the progression. What scares me is that with some babies there is never a clear cut cause found out..... That is NOT what I wanted to hear. We are buying stock in Vanicreme and a balm that Johnson&Johnson puts out for dry and chapped skin in their soothing naturals line. Ashlynn loves it.... she smiles when you put it on her. I think that she knows that it is going to make her feel better. It has a perfume to it so I was worried at first, but it doesn't seem to cause her more problems than she already has and she likes the smell. She smiles before we touch it to her face.
All in all I think we all have survived her first illness well. She is now at the point where she is sleeping all day and wakes up just to eat.... its like the first couple of weeks all over again : ) I am having to pump and bottle feed so that she can breathe, but over all I would say that we have weathered the storm nicely and are starting to get back to somewhat normal....