cindy's world

Allie has started sleeping longer and longer during nighttime. Between midnight and 9am, she was at about 4 hours between feedings in her 2nd week, then in her 3rd week, she went to 5.5 hours one night, 6.5 the next. We were elated. The 3rd night was last nite. She finished a feeding at about 12:30am, and didn’t have her next one until about 7:15am; another nice long stretch…except this feeding was odd.

I had noticed a couple of days ago that often, instead of latching on right away, she’d smack around and have trouble getting suction started. It almost seemed like she didn’t really want to feed, but I don’t feed her unless she’s crying and showing signs of rooting, so I know she was hungry. What was this, nipple confusion? We’d been using the pacifier a lot since being told we could and should. So last nite, she had a harder time latching on, then things went normally for a few minutes, and she pulled off herself in frustration and cried, hard. It was an angry hungry cry, as if I were depriving her of feeding but I wasn’t. We switched sides, and she went awhile, and the same thing happened. Mr. W suggested maybe I wasn’t producing enough milk anymore. Just to see, after she was off and having her fit, I left her with Mr. W (where she cried and was unable to sleep until 2:30 am) and pumped. I got something like 5mL out from both sides collectively, which is ridiculous. What happened to the days when I was producing 2.5+ oz per side? (30mL = 1 oz) I thought about what I’d been doing differently.

When I pumped behind my feedings, my milk supply increased so much that I was engorged and leaked often, and Allie couldn’t drink enough to relieve me all the way. I stopped pumping and made her go 5 minutes on each side to relieve both sides somewhat, hoping my body would realize I was overproducing and cut back. The last couple of days, she was going up to 8-9 minutes each side, which was odd as usually 5 minutes were sufficient to get her in a food coma. After not feeding for over 6 hours overnight (the equivalent of missing 1-2 feedings in the day), I woke up engorged, a rare feeling these days. She latched and fed just fine, went 8 minutes on one side, then after I switched her, she went only a few minutes on the other before dropping off in the old comatose pattern. I got up and pumped out the rest, and got 18mL from the one she spent little time on, 5mL from the side she started on. Wow. I know she didn’t drink 2.5 oz (75mL) in the time she spent, so my production is WAY down.

I guess I’m going to have to find a happy medium. Pumping too much = too engorged within a couple of days. Cessation of pumping = insufficient milk supply within a few days. Oops. I’m going to try pumping daily, but just in the morning, and see if that helps. If nothing else, I can slowly build up enough pumped milk to supplement again if need be. 🙁

Her other problem: pooping. She only poops once a day or so (instead of the guideline of up to 6 a day), and often skips days. She pooped once yesterday, but skipped the 3 days before that. I’d jokingly called her a “pea-shu,” the mythical Chinese creature with the head of a dragon and the body of a lion, depicted in statuettes with its mouth open and used for luck in bringing in money, as it eats but has no butthole to poop out what it takes in (yeah, you read me right). The doctors and nurses are unconcerned as her abdomen is soft and she’s passing gas, so that means she doesn’t have a blockage problem; they assume she’s just using up all the nutrition she gets and creates little waste product. But she strains and sometimes cries from pain or frustration trying to push out gas, so Mr. W is thinking she doesn’t know how to poop. The doctor said to help her feel her anal muscles by bicycling her legs and then raising her knees to her chest for a few seconds in cycles as she lays on her back, but doing this often makes her spit up. When she’s empty enough for us to do this, of course she’s hungry and crying to be fed. So now I have a baby who has forgotten how to latch, and hasn’t learned how to poop. What the heck.

Today was a dash through the rain so Allie could meet her personal pediatrician for the first time. He was impressed with how well her belly button’s healed, how much weight she’d gained (she’s at 9lbs 7oz now, well past her 8lb 2oz birth weight), how well her sleeping/feeding patterns have been established. Allie goes 4-4.5 hours between feedings between 12am and 9am, and only yesterday started shortening her daytime feedings to every 2-3 hours. The doctor said this is setting her up to have longer nighttime naps and more active day, which is exactly the ideal. He said some babies are flip-flopped and are more active at night, and the parents have to switch the baby’s clock. I said Allie’s pretty much doing this herself, and he said there are likely subtle things we do to help her along, such as
* keeping nighttime feedings boring and unstimulating: yes, we keep the lights low, we don’t play with her, it’s pretty much change diaper, feed, burp, swaddle, put her back down to sleep. He said some parents sing to their kids and entertain them at night feedings, and the baby will get used to and wake up just for that, even if it’s not that hungry.
* not co-sleeping with her: she’s right next to us, either in the separate cosleeper unit on her playard by me, or in her rocker cradle next to Mr. W, and we only pick her up if she starts crying. If she coos or makes other noises, we wait to see if she’ll go back to sleep first, and most of the time, she does. The doctor said co-sleeping tends to make the babies wake up more often, and keep the parent more interactive, either as a pacifier or as entertainment.
* not letting her stay latched when she’s not actively feeding: I’ve been following the lactation nurse’s advice and breaking the latch as soon as she goes into half-asleep light sucking mode. According to the doctor, this teaches her that I’m not a pacifier available for comfort at all hours of the night. If she still wants to suckle, she’s given a pacifier in her co-sleeper or cradle, or she’s rocked to sleep in my/Mr. W’s arms with a pacifier and then placed in bed.
* keeping it lit, noisy, busy in the day: the TV’s on, a light’s on, the tree’s on, her lullaby music’s on. She sleeps through it all, and as she’s increasingly interactive, Mr. W has been laying her on a play gym to look at all the colorful noise-making animals. We’ve taken her on occasional short walks in the stroller just around the block or up to the next shopping center, and the doctor said babies love that, the change in the looks and feel of the environment, and they knock out quickly from the new experience. (My mom would kill me if she knew.)
* letting her feed on demand every 2-3 hours in the day: according to the doctor, if we were to stretch out the time in between her feedings in the day, she’d still make sure she gets the correct number of calories she needs so she’ll just be up more often at night to demand it. Making sure she’s able to eat when she’s hungry in the day, even if it were every 2 hours like it was yesterday, keeps her on her 4-hour sleeping track through the night. He said we could coax her to eat semi-regularly but not to stretch it out unnecessarily at this age. Later on toward a year old when we are establishing specific feeding times, she could be kept on a schedule, such as eating at 2pm daily. He looked at our feeding chart on the iPad app and said that it’s great that these patterns (sleeping long at night, eating more often in the day, feedings dropping down to 10-12 mins each) are emerging early, and the way things are going, we’re quickly approaching the eating every 5 hours at night mark. YAY!

I had some concerns, and the doctor alleviated them all.
Q: Her growth has been rapid, should I be concerned how much milk she’s taking in and maybe control that a little?
A: No, babies (especially breastfed babies because bottles dispense much faster than babies’ sensory mechanisms can register fullness) don’t typically overeat their first year of life. They’ll know when to stop, and they’ll pull off or stop drinking. Her growth is great — she gained weight but her height and head circumference also grew proportionately to her weight so she’s fine. [I think she only gained 1/2 inch in height, though, and I don’t remember what her head circumference is; the nurse forgot to bring us the printout with the information.]
Q: She’s REALLY gassy; how much is TOO gassy?
A: [laughs] There’s a really wide range of normal gassiness in newborns. Allie’s stomach feels soft and not hard and distended, so that’s a good sign. She’ll learn to swallow less air with her feedings as she learns to be a more efficient feeder around the 6-week point. Although, because she’s early in reaching her developmental goals, maybe she’ll get there in one month. Plus right now, she’s not used to how her gas feels so she’ll fuss. As babies get older, we think they’re less gassy but it’s often because they’re used to the feel of it and so they don’t fuss and you don’t know about the gas. Remember, all these sensations of digestion are still new to her.
Q: She still has inexplicable crying after feedings especially at night, but we’ve changed her, burped her, swaddled her, given her a pacifier, what else could be wrong?
A: To babies this young, because they’re not used to the feelings of digestion, being full feels like how it feels to us when we’ve overeaten — sort of uncomfortable and “ugh.” But it’s normal because her stomach’s supposed to be filled, she’s just not used to the sensation. As she gets older, she’ll be used to it and stop fussing. Meanwhile, you can distract her from focusing on her stomach if she’s fussing too much. Sing to her, show her toys, something to get her mind off her fullness. [This explains why she fusses more at night; nothing to distract her from overfocusing on her stomach.]
Q: She’s also started spitting up more in the last few days, especially if she has to be on her back after a feeding so we can swaddle or change her; is that all right?
A: Perfectly normal; her stomach’s not strong enough yet to hold in all the food. As she grows and the stomach strengthens, it won’t happen as much. And it’s NOT a sign of overeating. [He read my mind.]

So basically, she’s doing great and she’ll just outgrow a lot of this stuff. He checked her and said she’s doing well, taught us how to bicycle-leg her while she’s on her back and then bring up her knees so she learns to feel and use her bowel muscles instead of her ab muscles when working on pooping. He said babies often get all red-faced and strain with their hands tucked in trying to work out a fart or poopie, and he demonstrated EXACTLY what she looks like sometimes as she does this straining; it was hilarious. It’ll get better once she realizes how to use the right muscles. She laid there good-naturedly waving her arms around and bringing her legs in and out watching us and the doctor talk, and the doctor said this is a healthy awake state; if she’s lethargic during awake times we should bring her in because it means she’s sick. I said she’s in that active mode for an hour or more at a time now in the day between feedings and he said, “Really? Already?” I had him approve of the all-natural Gripe Water to alleviate gas symptoms (basically sugar water with ginger and fennel seed extract) and the multi-vitamin drops, he said the Gripe Water only works sometimes but it’s totally safe and harmless, and to dispense 1oz of the vitamins once a day but not before a feeding because babies don’t tend to like the taste and they may refuse to feed afterwards, and we were on our way.

I posted this photo on the social networking site when I announced Allie’s 1-week birthday, saying “Cindy’s Allie Cat is 1 week old today! Time flies when you’re sleepless in babyland.”

People on the site have been incredibly responsive and when I posted that I’d given birth, within 20 minutes there were 40+ responses and comments. For this one, I got a lot of comments about the bear, too, which is a gift from the Sheriff’s Department at work. I also got a rap from a DA at the courthouse:
“To see something as adorable would indeed be rare, as Allie dozin’ off without a care, all hugged up inside of a bear….”
My little Allie, inspiring music. haha

The Hospital
I didn’t have much expectations of motherhood, but so far it’s been surprisingly harder than I’d expected. The first two days in the hospital were a little tough because everything was new, I was learning how to cope with breastfeeding and interpreting a baby’s screams (at all hours), but the nurses tended to me and helped me with everything from latching to caring for my nether regions, and I didn’t have to find my own food or leave the room. Medical supplies and freebies were ample. Mr. W was always by my side, helping care for Allie. It wasn’t easy, but it was like new parenting with training wheels.

On Our Own
After we came home, I still didn’t quite have the hang of how to get her to latch right, and I already had painful cracking and blisters on both sides. The nurses and lactation consultants at the hospital said that based on the amount of diapers Allie was going through, I was doing just fine, I had “plenty of milk (colostrum, thick pre-runny-milk nutrition for a baby with a tiny stomach),” that sore nipples are normal, and it would be no problem for Allie to breastfeed despite those cracks and sores, so I kept at it, hoping things would improve on their own. They got worse. Allie cried through the night, I was in a lot of pain every time I nursed her, and it took forever to finish a feeding because she would constantly fall sleep and only suckle periodically. The second day we were home, we logged a total of 11 hours and 4 minutes spent breastfeeding, done over 12 feedings. (Mr. W has a great iPad app he keeps these records on.) She still cried for food often, was seemingly endlessly rooting even after she had just come off the breast minutes prior. I was grateful for our system that Mr. W automatically started — when she cried, Mr. W would pick her up from our cosleeper in our bedroom, check her diaper, change it if necessary as I prepared the Boppy or Brest Friend and myself for nursing, then hand her to me to nurse. After Allie finishes with one side, he’d take and burp her, then return her to me for the other side. After that, he’d take and burp her, swaddle her, and (try to) put her back to bed. We figured out that when she screamed bloody murder, it was because she needed changing, had gas, or was hungry. The problem is that she is ALWAYS hungry and rooting (mouth opening and closing in the air, head turning when she feels contact with a person to look for a breast, stuffing her fists in her mouth), and screaming. This is especially hard between 11pm and 2am when we are exhausted from being up all day and are not allowed to sleep, even after we’d just fed her. I had been fairly well-adjusted and optimistic, but Mr. W was troubled by Allie’s unproductive feeding, I picked it up, and suddenly got the baby blues over the weekend. I actually wondered whether I’d made a mistake and was incapable of being a good mother; I couldn’t even feed my child right.

Scary News, New Instructions
Our 2nd day home, thankfully, was also Allie’s first out-of-hospital pediatrician appointment. We were sent to an out-of-town doctor because that was the only place open on weekends (it was Sunday). Our major concern is that altho she was wetting and poopying on as many diapers as she should in the hospital — more than, even — as soon as she came home, she stopped. Day 3 of life means 3 wet, 3 poopy diapers. She had 1 each. Day 4 of life means 4 wet, 4 poopy diapers. She had 1 wet, no poopy. Day 5 was the appointment. She had 3 wet diapers that day but still no poopy since she left the hospital. That female doctor was a God-sent. Mr. W was at first lamenting the long drive to Garden Grove to see her when the pediatrician we’d selected is conveniently in our own town, but we left Garden Grove knowing we’d been given a blessing.
Allie weighed in that day at a shocking 7 lbs 5 oz. She’d lost 9.5% of her birthweight (normal is 7% weight loss, 10% means a serious problem), and was very dehydrated. She wasn’t pooping because her body had entered survival mode and was withholding every calorie, refusing to waste anything by expelling it. The constant screaming for food was because, the pediatrician explained, Allie was starving and wasting away, and her survival instinct was to fight it by demanding food constantly.
Given the dire situation, the doctor immediately brought a 2-oz disposable bottle of prepared baby formula, and had Mr. W feed it to her. She recommended no more than an ounce as supplement, but said this time to let Allie have as much as she wanted to get her back on track. Allie sucked up 2/3 of the bottle in less than 2 minutes. I was then put on the “10-10-10” feeding plan. Clearly my 11 hours per day feedings were unproductive; she was largely using me as a pacifier, wearing down my body but getting insufficient nutrition, so instead of marathon feedings, I was instructed to feed every 3 hours by putting her 10 minutes on one side, burp, 10 minutes on the other side, burp, then supplement with 10mL of baby formula. The doctor actually told me to spend the next 2 days giving Allie 1 oz of baby formula supplementation because her weight was so low, and hopefully that would catch her up for the first week of her life. I was to pump my breastmilk after each feeding to tell my body I need more supply, and I was to always breastfeed first so she doesn’t get too used to the ease of the bottle and start rejecting my breasts. What I pumped out would be used to supplement (by bottle) in lieu of the formula until my pumped supply is good enough that I could wean her off formula. What? I get to bottle feed in addition to breastfeed, breastfeed so many fewer hours, AND I got permission to use formula? This was going to fix my baby? For the first time, I cried. I didn’t know why I was crying, maybe relief, maybe because I was just tired and stressed for so long without a rest, but my crying made the pediatrician cry a little, too. That’s the mark of a great doctor, cuz by this time in my career, there’s likely no one who could walk into court and give me a sob story so great that it’d make ME give a crap about their case. We were sent home with a 6-pack of premixed 2-oz baby formula bottles, instructions, and best of all, hope for improvement.
The rest of that day (till midnight), Allie pooped 3 times and had 4 more wet diapers. I’d never celebrated poo before. There’s a first time for everything.

Improvement?
After that the graphs on Mr. W’s iPad app showing my feeding schedule looked much more normal. The feedings were at regular intervals, the durations much shorter. I’d spend an average of 3 hours per day nursing (in addition to Mr. W’s supplementing) instead of 11 hours. My husband has been amazing. I thought I’d be doing the nighttime stuff on my own since he’s more an early riser and needs his sleep, but instead, I was never, never alone. As frustrated as he was to not be able to sleep due to a screaming baby wanting to nurse every couple of hours, then refusing to go down to sleep for inexplicable reasons, he kept at it. Daily, around 10pm, 1am, 4am, 7am, 11am, 2pm, 4pm, 7pm, he’d stop what he was doing (including sleeping), change the screaming baby’s diaper, bring her to me to nurse, burp her in between sides, prepare 15-20 mL (30 mLs is 1 ounce) of previously pumped breastmilk, bottle-feed her as I pump, then sit with her comforting her until I was done pumping, help me with the pump (taking it apart, storing the milk), swaddle and put Allie to bed. And then we’d lay there in the dark freaking out with every gurgle and squeak, terrified it’d turn into screams of bloody murder as she refused to be put to sleep despite the fact that she was so comatose during the ends of feedings that I’d have to keep tickling and annoying her to keep her awake so that she could get enough milk in her system (apparently normal in newborns). We decided to switch the order we did things to see if we could take advantage of her food comas. Instead of changing and swaddling her after the feedings, which would seem to wake her up, we did all those things before she switched to the second breast so that once she dropped off, we could put her to bed immediately. Sometimes that helped, but only sometimes.
I cried a couple of times at our usual most difficult stretch of 11:30pm to 2am, when she would just stay awake and scream and cry despite the feeding she’d just had. Mr. W comforted me, told me to stop apologizing to him, that we were in this together. I just felt like I brought such a difficulty and nuisance into his lifestyle with this baby whom I can’t handle on my own. The number of diapers he’d changed vs. the number I’d changed was at a ratio of something like 20 to 1. Maybe 25 to 1. And he was so tired and aggravated, especially during that stretch. Despite that, he kept getting up, every time, telling me to take care of myself, to rest a few minutes and ready the breastfeeding pillows. And then he’d bring me water with a bendy straw as I nursed, and Allie would gulp as I gulped.
Allie was wetting regularly now, 8 or more diapers a day, but still no poopy since the ones after the formula bottle feed of Sunday’s pediatrician appointment.

Lactation Clinic to the Rescue
Allie’s 7th day of life, I had an appointment at the lactation clinic at the hospital I birthed Allie. Mr. W came with me and was allowed to stay in there as long as no other women came in for their consultation, since we breastfeed in there. The lactation nurse weighed Allie naked and there was already a huge improvement. Allie had gained 8 ounces in the past 2 days since the pediatrician appointment, a bigger improvement than the nurse, already familiar with Allie’s medical chart, had hoped for. She was now 7 lbs 13 oz. The nurse then instructed me to breastfeed from one side. She cringed when she saw my nipples and said I was a trooper, most people would’ve given up before they looked like this. She noted I wasn’t complaining. Complain? Because I couldn’t seem to do the basic thing needed for my child’s survival? That just made me more diligent, to force my body to do what I need it to. Who has time to complain? The nurse took Allie and weighed her during that feed, announced
Allie had taken in half an ounce. She returned Allie to me, taught me to fix my latch on the same breast and to nurse properly. Apparently I’m not aggressive enough with the baby, causing her to latch too shallowly (painful). I ended up putting an ounce of milk from each breast into Allie, and Allie was fat, dumb and happy after that. She slept the entire way home. The nurse said by the looks of things, my transition milk (more volume, less thick) had come in just that day, and I can stop using the formula to supplement now. She said to pump only when necessary or just once in awhile to give my nipples a break while Allie’s bottle-fed with pumped milk, and said I can now supplement with my own milk exclusively.
I asked her about the screaming bloody murder and refusing to sleep thing, despite falling asleep all the time during nursing, and the nurse said Allie’s a survivor who fights hard to let us know that she’s not done with her feeding yet, she didn’t get her 2 oz of food, and to not give up on feeding her. That’s all the screaming. As far as the rooting right after she eats, that’s just her looking for a little topper to soothe her into sleep; if I give it to her it should be minutes before she drifts off into the food coma again. And the nurse revealed another reason for her cries: in addition to needing diaper changes, food, and to be burped or relieved of gas discomforts, sometimes the cries are just for a little cuddle after she eats. So if I don’t see a dirty diaper, she’s not rooting or she just ate, and I couldn’t figure out what’s wrong, just holding and rocking her calms her pretty quickly if she just wants a cuddle. Swaddling also helps. Mr. W is now an expert swaddler.
The problem left is that altho I now know I can produce 2 oz of formula total, the amount the lactation nurse said a baby this age needs to drink at each feeding, I don’t know how much I’m putting in her because I don’t have a baby scale at home. So how do I know I’m supplementing enough? How long do I keep her at each breast?

The Turn
I had been pumping 8-15 mL of milk after my feedings since I started pumping 4 days ago, but I decided last night to skip the 10:30pm session of breastfeeding and pump exclusively as Mr. W bottle-fed Allie 2 oz of formula (which we thought would knock her out like it did at the pediatrician appointment). That would get us sleep through the usual difficult period until her next feeding at 1:30a or 2a, it would give my breasts a break as they were finally starting to heal, and I would find out how much milk I’m producing and better estimate how much she’s taking in from me directly. If I produced 1 oz on each side (as proven I could at the lactation clinic), and I could still pump out 15 mL (1/2 oz) after she’s done feeding, I’d know she’d only gotten 1.5 oz from me directly, and that the correct supplementation is half an ounce. Plus we’d now have a little stockpile of breastmilk to supp with in our fridge.
Several things were surprising last night. One, Allie drained about 1.5 oz of formula (Mr. W accidentally spilled some from the 2-oz bottle) in record time, he added half an ounce more of breastmilk to supplement for 2 oz total, and she still rooted and screamed and cried afterwards, refusing to go to sleep. Maybe she she got more from nursing than just the physical milk. They sat with me as I pumped, and the rhythmic machine sounds soothed her and she eventually dozed off. Two, I pumped out 55 mL from one side and 45 mL from the other for a total of 100 mL; that’s close to 4 ounces. That’s an incredible amount of milk for someone’s first baby, nursing for just a week. (Happy 1 Week birthday, little baby! Here’s 4 oz of breastmilk as your gift.)
Also surprising, it was still a miserable time slot in the first part of the night, and so miserable that I even nursed her after pumping. She dozed as usual, but we’d put her down, she’d start breathing funny, I’d internally panic and wake up every time I heard anything from her, and sure enough, she was up and screaming bloody murder in seconds, rooting again. How could she be rooting? She just drank an enormous amount of formula, way thicker and longer-lasting than breastmilk. Mr. W would sigh, get up, rub his sore back, unswaddle her, check her diaper, change and/or reswaddle her, try to rock her, as she wailed her head off. I found myself guilt-ridden again, apologetic, and told him I don’t mind doing feedings 2 hours apart instead of 3 hours because maybe this is her body’s way of getting her over the starvation hump. I offered to take her and rock her, but he told me to try to sleep and give my breasts a break as he took care of it. I finally convinced him 2 hour increment feedings are as normal as 3 hour increment feedings if a baby is to be fed between 8-12 times a day, and that I didn’t mind doing it. He relented, because at least during the feedings, he gets 15-20 minutes per side to snooze. He still took over the burping in between sides and the logging of the information into his iPad. I thank him for being here, I apologize for being so dependent on him for help; he says he feels bad he can’t feed her in addition to all that he already does to give me more of a break.
I finally realized while studying Allie in the wee hours that last night, she seemed to make throaty sleep apnea sounds and wake up crying so often because she was using a Boppy Noggin Nest head support thing that we’d just gotten yesterday. When we followed the recommended guideline of sleeping on her back on a firm mattress, no head support, she would turn and watch us as she got drowsy, then turn away from us toward the dark wall as she slept. With the Noggin Nest, she couldn’t turn her head and it seemed to affect her breathing. As she screamed, I picked her up and cradled her to me, rocked her to sleep easily enough, and looked curiously at the tags on the Boppy Noggin Nest. It said to never use for playard, crib, bed; only use when the baby is in a recline position, such as in a swing or a rocker. I removed the Noggin Nest and the rest of the night, she slept more soundly. Mr. W called me a genius.
This morning, Allie made her first poop since Sunday, and it was a double-sized load or more. Hopefully this means her body was just cluster-feeding to push her over the starvation mode she had been in, and now she could sleep longer knowing she was going to get adequate milk.

Grandma & Grandpa’s Support
My parents or at least my mom has been coming by most of this week with freshly cooked food prepared in accordance with a Chinese model of proper postnatal nutrition. Things were made in the proper order with proper organic ingredients to do things like replenish my blood, cleanse my body, shrink my uterus, get my milk supply to come in, in that order. Daily during the Thanksgiving break and weekend, she’d cook in the morning and bring different dishes for me and Mr. W in tupperware containers to make sure we didn’t have to cook, then she and my dad would spend a little time with their granddaughter while Mr. W and I ate. Now she refers to herself as “grandma” when talking to Allie (usually misleadingly asleep) and she seems happy with that title. Mom revealed that my dad had said that he misses Allie when he’s not with her. While they were here the first time, my dad came excitedly into the dining room where Mr. W and I were eating, to report that Allie turns her head in her sleep. Then my mom followed later to report that she smiled in her sleep and that it was so cute. They are gonna be one of those people who have boring grandparent stories to tell their friends, but they’ll tell them very enthusiastically.
Sure my mom nags me about having a window open or Mr. W taking Allie into the backyard for a few moments because drafts are deadly to babies and to postnatal women, and she got on me for not wearing slippers in our house and walking on cool travertine tile floors (which I ignored), but at least she’s easily distracted now by even a small gas expression on a baby. We’re very grateful for their help, eating fresh homemade food prepared daily.

Crossing Fingers
Oh, and Allie’s umbilical cord fell off this afternoon, revealing a round little white belly button. We were told to expect that in 2 weeks, not 1. I’m gonna cross my fingers that this is a good sign of her progressing development, and that tonight will go better without the crying bloody murder thing between 11pm and 2am.

I’ve had multiple friends (all female) ask me for my birthing story. I used to be all queasy about birthing stories, but ever since we decided to get pregnant, I had been very interested. It may have been from an educational standpoint. Anyway, here is mine, written in pieces over the course of the past few days (I didn’t have much time available in productive blocks). A timeline:
* Wednesday, 11/23, contractions started (~3am), entered hospital (~8:30 a.m.) and had baby (4:57 p.m.) (I was pretty happy I started in the wee hours of the morning, labored through the day with sunlight streaming through the windows and we weren’t feeling like we were up when we weren’t supposed to be, and I was done by the end of a regular workhour day. It was perfect. Oh! And I didn’t cuss, didn’t fly into verbal or physical attacks on Mr. W. I pretty much felt in rational control the entire time. [I just asked Mr. W if he was glad I didn’t cuss him out or scratch him to death and he said, “Mm-hmm! You were very pleasant to be with, as aggravating as it may have been to have me keep telling you to do stuff like breathe and count…”])
* Thursday, 11/24, stayed in hospital (we opted to stay overnight Thursday night cuz the nurses and staff were so helpful; otherwise they would’ve discharged us after 24 hours, since everyone checked out as healthy)
* Friday, 11/25, discharged early afternoon (~2pm) and came home for the first time with Allie

WARNING: This is long AND graphic; if you’re one of those queasy-about-birthing-story people, don’t click “more.” Otherwise, welcome to my last Wednesday.
(more…)

Did you guys notice I was gone for awhile? No? Well, it’s my fault; I haven’t been blogging consistently. Only this time, I have an excuse! I’d like you to meet Allie Cat:

Friday 11/25, our first day back at home!

Born the day before Thanksgiving, 11/23, at 4:57 p.m.
8 lbs, 2 oz (I know! not my genes)
21 inches (again, not my genes)

Birthing dream scenario goals met:
* no epidural
* no episiotomy
* no IV pain relief (or any pain relief)
* mom healthy, baby healthy
* dad stayed by mom’s head the entire time coaching, and took no photo or video of objectionable stuff. 🙂
* no drama; only dad and medical team in birthing room with me through labor. 🙂 🙂

I’m babysitting a Mandatory Settlement Conference at work when the phone rang. Turned out it’s hubby, who told me to check the IP nanny cam in Allie’s bedroom. I took a photo of the computer screen at work with that image:

That’s the first time we’ve spotted him just hanging out in the house. Normally we don’t see him unless we happen to be watching as he walks to get food/water. It’s like he knows where the cameras are and avoids them unless he has to walk thru them to get to his food. He probably thought he’d be hidden or camouflaged in this position, too. 🙂

I pretty much only come here to write a post if there’s a lot of stuff I want to say and document. Otherwise the short little ditties just go on the social networking site. I feel a little bad about this, cuz blog readers don’t see my quickies and I lose out on the daily documentation. Stuff like:

Today: “Cindy woke up this morning on her stomach, with Allie trying to tap out. Oops.”
“Cindy indulged in some yummy Japanese treats for breakfast. Thanks, Lauren [court reporter’s daugher working for Disneyland in Japan], Danielle [court reporter’s daughter visiting Disneyland sister], and [court reporter]! =9 Allie’s all happy and bouncing from it right now.”

Yesterday: “Cindy and hubby got Allie what will be the most expensive furniture in the entire house. =P http://www.babyappleseed.com/beaumont-crib.htm”
“Cindy dreamt Riley came out instead of Allie, but as a talking intellectual small child. He had to wear Allie’s pink ‘coming home’ outfit that was too small, but when asked why he hid his gender behind his foot at the last ultrasound (preventing proper clothes from being prepared for him), he wouldn’t give a straight answer.”

Sunday: “
Cats find their sunny perches anywhere, so watch where ur steppin when one’s around.”

Saturday: “Cindy is among a throng of 2000 (& growing) ppl for the raffling of lake spots for the B52 concert tonite. Not feeling optimistic. Come on, blue-8.” (along with a whole album of photos, posted later, of the resulting surprisingly decent spot we snagged on the sand at a diagonal to the stage, but front-center for the fireworks show after the concert, and photos of us there with our guests, Coworker Sandy, her hubby Rich, Gym Trainee, and my growing-like-a-week godson, Gym Trainee’s now 14-yr old high school kid.)

Friday: “Cindy wonders if she should alert plaintiffs’ counsel to the difference between ‘skim’ and ‘scan,’ as he keeps telling witnesses things like, ‘This is a half-inch document, if you could just scan this briefly?’.” Comments on this one were amusing.

My old friend Edgar and his long-time girlfriend of 13 years Ruby just got engaged last nite. I’m going to tell this story, cuz it’s not the kind of engagement I’m used to seeing and it’s cute.

The two have been dating since Ruby was in high school, and they’ve managed to keep a teen-love-esque charm in their relationship. For example, because they got together November 20, they always make a point of doing a mini anniversary dinner or just something special every month on the 20th. Yesterday was also a 20th, so it wasn’t unusual when Edgar told Ruby he was going to make dinner reservations for the two of them at a favorite restaurant, Owen’s Bistro. (BTW, I Yelped this place and it’s got one of the highest ratings I’d ever seen in local restaurants.) Then, shortly before they were to leave for dinner, Edgar received a planned call from a buddy. I can’t remember the buddy’s name, so we’ll just call him Steve (wouldn’t it be funny it if actually WERE “Steve?”).

Steve claimed he’d tripped and injured himself while on a hiking trail behind Edgar’s neighborhood, and wanted to know if Edgar were at home so that Edgar could go get Steve and help Steve to his car. Edgar explained to Steve they were on their way to dinner reservations, but that they would go help Steve before they went. Earlier, Steve and Edgar had already set up 300 LCD tealight candles on a part of the hiking trail so that it spelled out “WILL YOU MARRY ME?” The words were clearly visible from an upper section of the trail that looked down over a drop, and that overlook section was cemented with a railing, like a balcony. That was the proposal site, and when Edgar and Ruby got on the path, Edgar called Steve to let him know they had arrived. That was when Steve activated the hidden camera in the bushes pointing at the balcony section of the trail. Steve then ran and hid. The plan was for Ruby to get to the balcony section, look down to look for Steve, see the candles, then turn to Edgar. Edgar would then be on his knee with the ring out. (I’d told Edgar to spell out “Ruby” with the candles, too, so she doesn’t assume it’s someone else’s proposal, and so others on the hiking trail didn’t think their significant other were proposing and then have an awkward moment. He didn’t do it, and apparently there WAS a couple that crossed that section shortly before they did, and it did create an awkward moment between them. Ouch.)

This is what I saw on the video of the proposal (no sound, as I watched it on the camera): Ruby comes on the scene (balcony) on a cell phone talking to Steve, as Steve tries to tell her where he is (allegedly) sitting so that she would look over the balcony railing and see the proposal candles. She has a concerned look on her face as she looks around the place in a circle. Edgar appears on the video as Ruby’s back is turned, and stealthily takes out the ring box, making sure it’s facing the right way in his hand. Ruby walks to the balcony railing and looks over. Edgar positions himself on his knee behind her. She turns back around, still on the phone, still looking concerned. She sees Edgar and stares at him in confusion. He appears to be saying something. She starts laughing, then doubles over laughing with her face in her hands.

Okay, so what happened was that she was so busy looking for Steve that when she looked over the balcony, she completely missed the candles. Edgar meanwhile assumed she saw the candle proposal, so he was making his verbal proposal. She couldn’t figure out why he was on his knee, and appeared to be proposing in the middle of their hunt for their injured friend. What odd timing. Awkward! What about Steve? And she also wanted to know who the guy was who was standing behind them on the hiking trail, staring at them with his mouth open. This whole thing was a set-up? So Steve’s okay? Is that guy part of the proposal? What’s his role? Edgar turned and saw the guy for the first time shamelessly taking in their personal moment. Ruby wanted to know if this whole thing was a joke, and whether Steve was really okay. She was so distracted and confused that she forgot to say “yes.”

So Steve soon appeared (walking just fine!) and helped put away the tea light candles, then agreed to join Edgar and Ruby for dinner. Meanwhile, about 16 additional friends of theirs (us, included) were already at Owen’s Bistro waiting in a private room. Ruby walked in the room for their private reservation, recognized everyone, looked confused, and suddenly looked a little tearful as her hands went up to cover her face again. We swarmed them and congratulated them, she got to show off her ring right away…

…(superb quality round brilliant center stone with many smaller glittering rounds down each side of the platinum band, very nicely designed by Edgar), and we all had a very nice 3-course prix fixe dinner that Edgar REFUSED to let any of us pay for. =P

Mr. W and I sat at the end of the long table across from Eddie & Michelle, who had just returned fairly recently from their 2-week Paul Gauguin cruise to the French Polynesian Islands (same cruise we went on, only twice as long and with huge raving reviews from us). I felt slightly antisocial because the 4 of us (Eddie, Michelle, me and Mr. W) mainly just gushed about our experiences on this amazing cruise (see our series here!), but we had been waiting to hear about this cruise and were excited and jealous the entire 2 weeks they were on it.

I didn’t have any photos of Edgar & Ruby’s engagement or dinner at the time I first wrote this post, but I did have these! =D


But I digress.

Congrats, Edgar & Ruby! It’s not everyone who puts so much effort into proposals anymore. Aside from boys trying to be creative to push the odds in their favor when asking a girl to Prom, this much work in popping any question is virtually unheard of, and we’re so happy to have been a part of it.

Sometime this week, Allie decided to have a growth spurt. Not only does my stomach feel tight the moment I eat a bit of food, but her movements are so distinct and coordinated that I now know she’s a night owl like her mommy (“owl” in Mandarin, by the way, literally translates to “cat-headed hawk”). She’d wake me up dancing at around 3am. If I curled up in fetal position, she’d waste no time in tapping against each of my quads (with perfect aim, one thigh after the other) until I lowered my legs and gave her extra space. I wish a fetal psychologist could tell me whether she’s tapping me in play (Mr. W: “Like how if you put your hand up on the glass, a monkey would put up its hand to match yours”), or being a spoiled brat and pushing away anything that infringes on her personal space. I tend to think it’s the latter, cuz she pushes away anything — my arm, the stethoscope head, my purse, my magazine, the pillow. Oh well, good thing I’m always up at night anyway cuz I sleep like a donut (with a hole in the middle), and Dodo does his territorial yowling thing around the same time as Allie’s dancing (they’re on the same schedule), so looks like the three of us will be up together often.

For the past 3 days, if I ate a normal-sized meal, I’d feel like I want to burst. I also would have trouble getting air into my lungs, but gasping repeatedly for air hurt my abdominal muscles and would give me minor sharp cramping sensations all over the area between my belly button and my ribcage. I remembered learning that at this point, the stomach is pushed up into my diaphragm and cramped, so anything more than a small meal IS very hard on my upper abdominal muscles/lungs/diaphragm. I finished a meal at dinner with hubby and the stepkidlet this evening (she’s back from Haiti now, armed with photos, stories, inspiration, and appreciation for life), and wobbled away from the table, gasping for air, thinking that if something accidentally went into my mouth now, my stomach would explode and Allie would fall out onto the floor. Mental note: no more full meals; stomach capacity has shrunken this week due to increase of uterus size.

People have been asking me for Allison’s middle name, and I tell them it’s undecided. Mr. W decided unilaterally today that it should be Allison Catherine. Why? Allie Cat. “Don’t do that to her!” Stepkidlet said. Coincidentally (or unfortunately), while we were shopping for my cousin Jennifer’s baby shower gift earlier in the week, I bought a really cute cat ensemble for Allie.

Allie’s wardrobe is growing…she got some cute onesies from her Auntie Jordan in Florida, and yesterday, I received a strange package in a manila envelope through courtmail. Turned out it contained a cute little ruffle dress with matching bloomers from her Auntie Erin in Beverly Hills Court. Thanks, Aunties! Now, I just need some place to put Allie’s stuff until we replace the guest room with her room.