I have a new weakness and his name is Charlie B.
Motherhood is an entirely new adventure for me, and while I anticipated most of this adventure, there are several unexpected aspects that I am working on mastering.
I knew my baby would need my time. Round the clock nursing sessions, diaper changes, extra laundry, multiple outfit changes, planning outings around nap time, etc. However, the one element I didn't plan on was the crying.
Charlie is a textbook case of PURPLE crying. It starts at two weeks, and usually ends sometime between 3-4 months. In some cases it can last up to five months.
PURPLE is an acronym for:
Peak of Crying
Unexpected
Resists Soothing
Pain-like Face
Long Lasting
Evening
To sum it all up, for the last few days Charlie has been crying for 4hr stretches in the evening where nothing can console him. We try a variety of methods and strategies that work sometimes but are not foolproof. The hospital had sent us home with a DVD that specifically addressed what this period entails for parents, and how we as parents can safely cope during this time.
We go for family drives, we use the pacifier, we turn on the white noise machine, we use the bouncy chair, we trade off holding him, I nurse him, we sing to him, and we rub his back. The crying doesn't hurt him, but it definitely wears us down.
My little boy is such a sweetheart every other minute of the day, but those four hours are challenging because there is nothing I can do for him.
The one upside is that after we check his diaper during this crying, I nurse him, and because he tends to nurse more during this four hour stretch he has been sleeping through his 1am feeding. So we have been getting six hours of uninterrupted sleep between 10pm-4am. My dad keeps telling me to enjoy the blocks of sleep I'm getting, but I was worried about him missing feedings when I'm working so hard to help him gain weight.
I brought up PURPLE crying with my lactation consultant, and she recommended that I start pumping so that Sam could help me feed Charlie more in the evening. So today we start that form of practice, which meant last night we washed and assembled our bottles.
Charlie is three weeks old!
Wednesday, December 27, 2017
Thursday, December 21, 2017
Life with Baby: Week 2
I can't believe my little bubula is two weeks old!!
This week was a big one for our little guy, we went to the following places:
This week was a big one for our little guy, we went to the following places:
- Visiting my parents at their house
- Visiting the Smart's
- Shopping at Target
- Going out to eat with Sam's parents at Hires
- Attending the annual cookie exchange with Aunt Nichole's side of the family
- Meeting Santa Claus at said cookie exchange
- Stopping by work to show off the baby
We also went to the doctor's to get Charlie's weight checked, he is up 2.5 oz since we were discharged from the hospital! I worried that my milk wouldn't be enough for him (Mom had supply issues with me), but he seems to be doing okay for now.
At his 2nd doctor's appointment this week, we learned he had lost half an ounce but had grown 1.2 inches. My new goal is to focus on his nursing and do my best to help him gain more weight. We have another weight check later this week, so fingers crossed! In the meantime, we had an appointment with a lactation consultant to help me. Turns out Charlie boy had a classic tongue-tie that was making it really hard for him to latch properly. Our consultant sent us to a pediatrician who was able to clip the tie within the hour. He is doing much better now in regard to nursing.
His skin is also dry because of the cold, so I picked up a tub of Eucerin to help him combat the issue. His umbilical cord stump fell off earlier this week, and we gave him another bath to help clean him up a bit more. He is so much work!
His skin is also dry because of the cold, so I picked up a tub of Eucerin to help him combat the issue. His umbilical cord stump fell off earlier this week, and we gave him another bath to help clean him up a bit more. He is so much work!
Charlie likes to ride in the car, so taking him on all these little outings was nice. Usually the ride will put him right to sleep. He's a pretty good baby most of the time :)
Monday, December 18, 2017
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Life with Baby: Week 1
In the short time we've had with Charlie, we have learned so much. Well, to be fair, most of it I already knew but now others are confirming my wisdom.
Being a kicker
Being a kicker
- He has long toes and really puts up a fight when it comes to diaper changes, although I believe he does that because it is cold.
- I already knew this because I spent 7 weeks with his heel consistently jabbing me in the right side of my torso.
Grandpa's bestie
- My dad is in love with this kid, and I'm thrilled because I had a sneaking suspicion that they would be closest out of the grandparents.
- Dad told me he was beaming when he met his grandson for the first time.
- Plus, Charlie has shifty eyes when he's alert and makes a face that I've seen my dad make often.
Blonde hair and not-so-blue eyes
- I hoped and prayed that he would have hair like mine, but many people assured me that he would end up being dark like his daddy.
- His eyes are also darkening a bit, so he very well may have brown/green eyes like me
Alert Snuggle-Bug
- He is only awake two or three times a day, but when he's awake he is alert and observant.
- But the rest of the time, he is happy to snuggle with whomever is holding him. He's taken many naps with Mama, Daddy, and Nana the last week.
En Route to be a Super Pooper
- Charlie was a bit jaundiced when we brought him home because he wasn't pooping, which made me stress about whether or not he was getting enough milk.
- His billirueben levels have stabilized since my milk came in, and he poops more and more every day.
- He practically has jet-propulsion in his shorts because he is such a master farter!
Sunday, December 10, 2017
Charlie's Debut
We were all wondering just how exactly this story was going to play out. Would he come on his due date? When would I go into labor? How long would I labor? Would there be complications? etc, etc.
Well, now we know!
All last weekend, I felt really crampy. We honestly believed the time was now and that we would have a baby shortly. But then the weekend came and went, and still no baby. I spent my early weekend mornings finishing Christmas gifts for my staff, determined to hand them out on Monday the 4th. I had a long list of tasks that no matter what, I would finish.
We Facetimed Sam's parents on Sunday night, and afterward I was insistent that we put up our Christmas tree. My friends know that I'm really not much of a holiday decorator, so this kind of behavior was highly out of character for me. Normally, I could wait until the week of Christmas before I actually want to put up my tree.
Not this time. We successfully Christmas-fied our living room before going to bed that night.
Monday morning came, and I showed up to work. I handed out my gifts and got to work on my task list. People were surprised that I was handing out gifts so soon, but I just knew I had to do it before it was too late.
Around lunch time, I was walking back from the faculty room and felt a contraction. This was about 1pm, and I thought "Oh boy, progress!" By the time 4pm rolled around, my contractions were about 20 minutes apart. I told my administration about what was going on, but they didn't seem to worried. My principal even joked that she would see me in the morning.
I had three contractions on the 20 minute drive home, and I started tracking them with my app as soon as I walked in the door. They were about seven minutes apart, so I labored on the birthing ball for awhile and called my doctor. The doctor called shortly after Sam arrived home, and while she said something was happening, she did not tell me I was in labor.
We kept tracking the contractions while we packed the hospital bag, and called the hospital when they got to be about 5 minutes apart. Labor & Delivery told us to come in and get checked, so we left the house at about 11pm and headed to St. Mark's Hospital.
They checked me and said that while I was contracting every 4-7 minutes, I was only at a 1 and they couldn't admit me yet. I didn't understand how they were sending me home when I was in so much pain. They kept us for about an hour to see if I would dilate anymore, so we walked around the hallway the whole time. Unfortunately, I hadn't made any progress with dilating, so they shot me in the hips with morphine and fentanyl and sent me on my way. They also instructed me to come back when the contractions were more frequently at 4 minutes apart rather than at 5.
The meds knocked me on my butt, and it was about 2am when we finally got back home. I texted my boss and said I would be starting my leave the next day, and passed out in my bed.
The nurses had said that the morphine would last about 6hrs, and we weren't sure if the contractions were going to start up again immediately after the meds wore off. I spent most of Tuesday asleep in my bed and forcing myself to eat and drink. I started to feel better, but also very discouraged. How could that be false labor? I didn't believe it.
Sam came back from the lab and tried to cheer me up, but I just wasn't feeling it. I wrote my staff an email explaining the situation, and tried to convince myself that this would not continue for another two weeks. My doctor had said that she would only induce me at 41 weeks, which would have been Dec 19.
I was exactly 39 weeks pregnant and in that awkward limbo where nobody would give me a definitive answer about just how long they would let me body torture me before interfering.
Around midnight on Wednesday December 6, I woke up with contractions. They were about once an hour, but by 4am they were about 10 minutes apart. At this point I could't go back to sleep in between contractions, and the only semi-decent position I could get into was hunched over the birthing ball.
I could not stop shaking, so I put on Sam's jacket over my pajamas, in addition to a scarf, socks, and my slippers. It wasn't enough. I had to also wrap myself in a fleece blanket so that I wouldn't feel like I was going to muscle-spasm my body to death.
I woke Sam up at 6am and told him that my contractions were once again 5 minutes apart, but there was much more pelvic pressure this time. It felt like burning, and it was so bad I couldn't labor standing up. By 7am they were 4.5 minutes apart and I was just miserable. We called Labor & Delivery again and told them about what was happening, and they asked us to come in to be checked.
We embarked on the road to St. Mark's for the second time in less than 48hrs, only this time it was during rush hour traffic. I was terrified of being sent home again, because I knew I couldn't keep repeating this feat.
At triage, they told me I was at a 4 and 100% effaced, which meant I was being admitted and the baby was really on his way. I was floored at the nurse's response when she said I was a 4, I even cursed "Holy Shit" as my response. Sam called work and said the hospital was admitting us.
They put me in a delivery room and gave me my epidural around 9:30am, which provided me much relief, although I kept shaking like a madman. I asked my nurse why I was so cold, and I was told that not only is that a symptom of the labor hormone, but also a side-effect of the medication.
About noon, the specialist came in and broke my water because my contractions had lost their consistency. My sweet mother-in-law had flown in the night before after we'd called on Monday night, and I was so happy to see her when she walked into the room. Victoria showed up shortly after with lunch for Sam and her never-ending supply of emotional support. They checked me again at 2pm I was told I was at an 8 and that my doctor would be there soon. By 4pm I was at a 9.5, and at 4:30 my doctor showed up.
Sometime between 4:30 and 5 I started pushing. He was born at 6:34pm.
I remember being given oxygen when I was pushing. I remember feeling sick near the end of my pushing phase. I also remember feeling him actually come out of my body.
His cry sounded like he'd been crying for hours, but the staff told us that crying would help clear his lungs out. They put him on top of me, but I couldn't see him. All I could hear was his hoarse little cry, over and over again.
I remember crying as the doctor stitched me up, for which felt like forever, but necessary because I had four 3rd degree tears. I begged for my mom, who just happened to arrive not five minutes after he was born. Additionally I got sick and coughed up the five swallows of chicken broth they'd allowed me the few hours beforehand
Everything after that is a bit of a blur. I know my phone was blowing up because I kept hearing it go off at the most random moments.
My parents and my brother came in, along with my in-laws and everyone had a chance to meet the baby.
Around 9pm they took us upstairs to our room, and after his first feeding Charlie headed to the nursery for the night so that we could get some rest.
Nurses kept coming to to take my vitals and bringing the baby so I could feed him, and then I learned that breastfeeding releases a hormone that makes you tired so that both you and the baby relax more. No wonder I was so exhausted!
We stayed in the hospital Thursday and part of Friday, which meant we got discharged on my 28th birthday. The nutrition staff noticed that it was my birthday and gave me a special brownie with a candle on top. I still can't believe he came in between mine and Ian's birthdays, and that he came on baby Matthew's 1st birthday!
As Friday went on, the doctor came to check us and signed our discharge papers, and we made plans to head out after lunch time. It was a little nerve-racking for me to get dressed, mostly because I wasn't emotionally prepared to see my post-pregnancy body just yet. But I remember looking in the mirror and feeling pretty okay with what I saw. I'd just put my body through the ringer, but it came through and did exactly what I needed it to do. I chose to be grateful for the strength it showed me while I carried and delivered my son.
Well, now we know!
All last weekend, I felt really crampy. We honestly believed the time was now and that we would have a baby shortly. But then the weekend came and went, and still no baby. I spent my early weekend mornings finishing Christmas gifts for my staff, determined to hand them out on Monday the 4th. I had a long list of tasks that no matter what, I would finish.
We Facetimed Sam's parents on Sunday night, and afterward I was insistent that we put up our Christmas tree. My friends know that I'm really not much of a holiday decorator, so this kind of behavior was highly out of character for me. Normally, I could wait until the week of Christmas before I actually want to put up my tree.
Not this time. We successfully Christmas-fied our living room before going to bed that night.
Monday morning came, and I showed up to work. I handed out my gifts and got to work on my task list. People were surprised that I was handing out gifts so soon, but I just knew I had to do it before it was too late.
Around lunch time, I was walking back from the faculty room and felt a contraction. This was about 1pm, and I thought "Oh boy, progress!" By the time 4pm rolled around, my contractions were about 20 minutes apart. I told my administration about what was going on, but they didn't seem to worried. My principal even joked that she would see me in the morning.
I had three contractions on the 20 minute drive home, and I started tracking them with my app as soon as I walked in the door. They were about seven minutes apart, so I labored on the birthing ball for awhile and called my doctor. The doctor called shortly after Sam arrived home, and while she said something was happening, she did not tell me I was in labor.
We kept tracking the contractions while we packed the hospital bag, and called the hospital when they got to be about 5 minutes apart. Labor & Delivery told us to come in and get checked, so we left the house at about 11pm and headed to St. Mark's Hospital.
They checked me and said that while I was contracting every 4-7 minutes, I was only at a 1 and they couldn't admit me yet. I didn't understand how they were sending me home when I was in so much pain. They kept us for about an hour to see if I would dilate anymore, so we walked around the hallway the whole time. Unfortunately, I hadn't made any progress with dilating, so they shot me in the hips with morphine and fentanyl and sent me on my way. They also instructed me to come back when the contractions were more frequently at 4 minutes apart rather than at 5.
The meds knocked me on my butt, and it was about 2am when we finally got back home. I texted my boss and said I would be starting my leave the next day, and passed out in my bed.
The nurses had said that the morphine would last about 6hrs, and we weren't sure if the contractions were going to start up again immediately after the meds wore off. I spent most of Tuesday asleep in my bed and forcing myself to eat and drink. I started to feel better, but also very discouraged. How could that be false labor? I didn't believe it.
Sam came back from the lab and tried to cheer me up, but I just wasn't feeling it. I wrote my staff an email explaining the situation, and tried to convince myself that this would not continue for another two weeks. My doctor had said that she would only induce me at 41 weeks, which would have been Dec 19.
I was exactly 39 weeks pregnant and in that awkward limbo where nobody would give me a definitive answer about just how long they would let me body torture me before interfering.
Around midnight on Wednesday December 6, I woke up with contractions. They were about once an hour, but by 4am they were about 10 minutes apart. At this point I could't go back to sleep in between contractions, and the only semi-decent position I could get into was hunched over the birthing ball.
I could not stop shaking, so I put on Sam's jacket over my pajamas, in addition to a scarf, socks, and my slippers. It wasn't enough. I had to also wrap myself in a fleece blanket so that I wouldn't feel like I was going to muscle-spasm my body to death.
I woke Sam up at 6am and told him that my contractions were once again 5 minutes apart, but there was much more pelvic pressure this time. It felt like burning, and it was so bad I couldn't labor standing up. By 7am they were 4.5 minutes apart and I was just miserable. We called Labor & Delivery again and told them about what was happening, and they asked us to come in to be checked.
We embarked on the road to St. Mark's for the second time in less than 48hrs, only this time it was during rush hour traffic. I was terrified of being sent home again, because I knew I couldn't keep repeating this feat.
At triage, they told me I was at a 4 and 100% effaced, which meant I was being admitted and the baby was really on his way. I was floored at the nurse's response when she said I was a 4, I even cursed "Holy Shit" as my response. Sam called work and said the hospital was admitting us.
They put me in a delivery room and gave me my epidural around 9:30am, which provided me much relief, although I kept shaking like a madman. I asked my nurse why I was so cold, and I was told that not only is that a symptom of the labor hormone, but also a side-effect of the medication.
 |
| Shortly after getting the epidural |
 |
| We were relieved that it was all finally happening |
Sometime between 4:30 and 5 I started pushing. He was born at 6:34pm.
I remember being given oxygen when I was pushing. I remember feeling sick near the end of my pushing phase. I also remember feeling him actually come out of my body.
 |
| Charles Bennett Elmer 6.9lbs, 18.5 inches |
I remember crying as the doctor stitched me up, for which felt like forever, but necessary because I had four 3rd degree tears. I begged for my mom, who just happened to arrive not five minutes after he was born. Additionally I got sick and coughed up the five swallows of chicken broth they'd allowed me the few hours beforehand
Everything after that is a bit of a blur. I know my phone was blowing up because I kept hearing it go off at the most random moments.
My parents and my brother came in, along with my in-laws and everyone had a chance to meet the baby.
 |
| Hello, firstborn |
 |
| Meeting Grandpa Ron |
 |
| Meeting Grandpa Bob |
 |
| Meeting Nana Lisa |
Around 9pm they took us upstairs to our room, and after his first feeding Charlie headed to the nursery for the night so that we could get some rest.
Nurses kept coming to to take my vitals and bringing the baby so I could feed him, and then I learned that breastfeeding releases a hormone that makes you tired so that both you and the baby relax more. No wonder I was so exhausted!
 |
| Little Charlie |
 |
| Daddy's boy |
 |
| Exhausted Mama the day after |
 |
| Sam wanted to take some shots of us to capture those sweet bonding moments |
We stayed in the hospital Thursday and part of Friday, which meant we got discharged on my 28th birthday. The nutrition staff noticed that it was my birthday and gave me a special brownie with a candle on top. I still can't believe he came in between mine and Ian's birthdays, and that he came on baby Matthew's 1st birthday!
As Friday went on, the doctor came to check us and signed our discharge papers, and we made plans to head out after lunch time. It was a little nerve-racking for me to get dressed, mostly because I wasn't emotionally prepared to see my post-pregnancy body just yet. But I remember looking in the mirror and feeling pretty okay with what I saw. I'd just put my body through the ringer, but it came through and did exactly what I needed it to do. I chose to be grateful for the strength it showed me while I carried and delivered my son.
 |
| Getting ready to go home! |
 |
| Heading out |
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