The breathing issue turned out to be a bigger deal than I thought...although not as big of a deal as it could of been. Let me explain...
I had always been able to get my breathing under control when it became difficult, but last Sunday night, after doing some simple walking around the house and getting ready to watch the Hunger Games with mom (and Sarah) I suddenly became so short of breath that I felt like I couldn't breath. It wasn't like a panic attack because I've had that before. (Besides, Sarah had been relatively easy to care for - plus I had mom and Stephen with me...)
Long story short I ended up spending the night in the ER at BSA. (And we thought those days were over...) Stephen went with me and even though my mom is a perfectly capable mother who took care of both a fussy baby (my brother) and a baby hooked up to a heart monitor born very premature (me) I cried and cried (not helping the breathing!!!) over leaving my five day old baby. Sarah had been exclusively breastfed up until then, so no bottle and no formula. I fretted over giving her a bottle at so young because everyone makes such a big deal about nipple confusion. I did not want to introduce formula, but do to a back order issue with the electric pumps and an ill fitting manual pump, I had not pumped any breast milk and I was sure this one night was going to kill my efforts at breast feeding. That and the only time Sarah ever cries hysterically is when she's hungry (I'll take responsibility for that as a Ward). What if she didn't take the bottle OR the formula? I would have left a screaming child with my mother for who knows how long...
After 8 hours overnight in the ER, I was given oxygen, had a chest x-ray and a CT scan, was told I had pneumonia and fluid on my lungs and given an antibiotic. Sarah - took the bottle no problem. I had to pump (with my ill fitting painful manual pump) and dump for the first half of the day and then she went back to breast no problem. (Except mom's supply having dropped - which we're slowly getting better at)
The next day I was told to go to Dr. Anderson's office immediately...and God love that man...he says "Pneumonia? WHO told you that?? What doctor was this? I don't even know this guy...you don't have a fever, you're not sweating you don't have pneumonia!" But what he was concerned with was a little bigger of a problem (and perhaps that was part of his frustration) It was a condition called pericardial myopathy which is weakness in the heart left by pregnancy...I was booked with a cardiologist the next day for an echo-cardiogram. (Fluid on the longs is just one symptom...)
It could have been really scary...but fortunately, I do NOT have pericardial myopathy. But my blood pressure is taking its sweet time going down and I did have a fair amount of fluid left in my body. I go back in a month to make sure my blood pressure goes back down. It was chalked up to my body having a really difficult time recovering after gestational diabetes, pre-eclampsia and major surgery. (And it probably doesn't help I'm "severely anemic".
So let's talk about that fluid because it's a week and a half post-partum and I have lost 30 lbs. Mind you, I only gained 15 - but that's what malnutrition and throwing your guts up for six months then being put on a restricted diet does to you. But let's think about this...Sarah was 5 lbs 10 ounces. So to date...I have lost 25 lbs of fluid. It's bizzare. But my lungs are feeling better and I'm feeling better.
So by Wednesday it was time for Papa (my dad) to arrive and crisis was averted. So onto why you REALLY visited the blog. Thank you to those of you who pitied me and read the part about "mom".
First we had our first bath. Dad made sure he got the most obnoxious shots of bath time as he could. As you can tell. Sarah was not particularly fond of the experience.
Of course, I use only the best Arbonne Baby Care for my daughter. ;-)
(Side note: Several of you have asked out Mr. Cat aka Palmer is handling his demotion. He seems a little lonelier than usual. But I try to take intentional time to pet him each day. He's been a little curious of Sarah, but for the most part hasn't been too interested. I think that will change when she's old enough to chase him and pull his tail. Something, no doubt, Mommy will discourage and Daddy will encourage. We need to get our "we parent together" minds together on that one...Mommy WILL win.)
Side note over.
At last Papa got to Amarillo and met us in the hall way as we were finishing up a feeding from earlier. I was surprised at the group hung (Dad did actually hug me first, although he later apologized and hugged me because he forgot, and thought he hadn't hugged me...I'll take it either way.)
Love at first site on both accounts.
The Sunday night trip to the ER didn't help us straighten out night from day. Mom (Mimi), bless her, was trying to stave off feeding Sarah thinking I could get home and breast feed. I think it caused Sarah to take a step back and mix her days and nights up (although I do appreciate the gesture). There are times when she is wide awake and has kept Mom and Dad up most of the night. Finally I got so tired we both completely zonked out when we were left alone.
Mom (Mimi) thought the picture was precious as we all look so exhausted. The picture is less than flattering to me, but I remember thinking that taking a nap with baby and Mr. Cat would be my definition of nirvana. It was...
As you can see, my Kindle is propped up. I was reading...apparently a while ago since it shut itself done to idle. Who can resist a nap when you've been up most of the night, there's a warm baby on your chest breathing sweetly and a cat keeping your legs warm. Anyone else would've looked equally exhausted...
Last night we made great strides in the night time reversal. I had done some reading on how to readjust her clock. My Breastfeeding 101 class (which I'm constantly using things from) recommended that if you're baby was especially fussy at night and was sleeping in the same room to move her because she likely smells milk on mom. So for the first time (which was a little nerve wracking) Sarah spent most of the night in her crib in stead of the pack and play bassinet.
I kept all the lights down low, and the second she cried, I was up changing a diaper and feeding her, no matter whether it was technically time. I didn't say a word to her, we just got down to business so that she would know if she cried in the night that was going to be the routine. And as has been the case most of the week, she cried on and off from the time we went to bed (around 10) until around 1:30am. I was diligent and on a mission. By the time I got her down at 1:30/2:00am, She went until about 4:30...again with the no nonesense changing and feeding. I was finished by around 5:30. Stephen who gets up at 6 on Sunday mornings was going to take the last feeding, but I knew if she was sleeping there was no reason to wake her up.
So around 7:45 she woke up again ready to feed. We got up flipped all the lights on and opened the blinds...ta-da...we made it through the night with more sleep than we'd really gotten since we first brought her home. I was thankful because Sunday is probably Stephen's most exhausting work day and he deserves to be in the right frame of mind with the important work that is to be done on Sunday.
Here's to hoping we can play the game again tonight and have just as much success.
In the meantime...naptime.