I surrender

There is a prescription for Zoloft waiting for me at the pharmacy.

After having been up all night again, the morning was rough.

He was screaming through his bottle, I was exhausted and frustrated and just couldn't take it.

Yesterday's Oprah episode really spoke to me.

Something had to give.

I don't think I have PPD. I think it's exhaustion induced. But either way- it's depression.

I have a lot of shame about it, I'll be honest. I feel like a failure.

We struggled for so many years, through surgeries and miscarriages and then pre-e and months in the NICU. And here I am- the answer to my prayers finally answered and I'm completely overwhelmed.

Yes, yes, I know you'll all reassure me that it's normal. Because you're all wonderful. I have conversations with 2 moms of older children today who did make me feel somewhat better.

But the shame is still there.

Here is this perfect angel. This amazing soul that has fought through so much. He spent six month in my belly being accosted by a noisy Doppler checking him, then was ripped from my womb early and spent the next 3 months being tortured. Tubes down his throat, needles in his arms & legs, lights and noises constant. Then surgery brought cuts and bruises all over. Tubes down his throat again. A tube was put into his stomach.

It drains and leaks almost constantly. He has rubber probes strapped to his chest at all times. His stomach betrays him in spite of the surgery- burning acid up his throat, up into his nose.. gagging and choking him.

But still he soldiers on. Feisty, they say. The nice way of saying cranky. I'd be cranky, too.. I AM cranky, too.. and I haven't been through half as much as him.

In spite of all of this, his occupation therapist says he's "wonderful" "excellent" "better than just about any preemie she's ever seen." Months of torture and still he likes to look at people, make eye contact, turn his head to follow interesting things. In spite of the constant negative oral stimulation, he still likes to eat and to nurse.

He's far more resilient than me.

And in spite of knowing all of this, of living all of this, I find myself frustrated- angry even- when he won't stop crying.

ANGRY. At a 5 pound helpless infant that I love more than life itself.

"ROBBIE COX!" I said loudly, nearly yelling this morning. "STOP CRYING!"

And he did. Surprised, I think, by my stern voice. It only lasted a moment, but he was surprised. Something new he shouldn't learn yet. A frustrated mom.

I tried to sing my nonsense song to him, bouncing him around hoping to soothe him, but really just going through the exhausted motions. I was rougher than I should have been. Not soothing at all. I wasn't hurting him, of course. But I wasn't helping either.

He finally finished his bottle and fell asleep.

I cried.

One thing was abundantly clear. Robbie deserves a better mother. One who isn't too tired to sing nonsense songs and pat him incessantly if that's what he wants. One who hears him wake up and thinks "YAY! My amazing son is awake! We can play now." Not "Crap. I'm so tired. I wish he'd go back to sleep."

I called the doctor's office. They weren't open yet, so I waited.

I called my dad hoping to pass the time. He asked if I'd slept. I told him no. Then I told him the truth- I was waiting for the doctor's office to open because I needed help. I wasn't dealing well.

He didn't laugh this time. Instead he offered to come watch Robbie in the morning so I could sleep. I agreed.

I fell asleep before the doctor's office could open.

I dreamed that Robbie was crying and I couldn't get to him. I woke up in a panic but he was fine.

I called the doctor's office immediately and left a message.

They called me back and agreed. They want to see me in a few weeks to make sure things are improving.

I emailed David at work and told him that we needed to talk. I need help.

He agreed.

Tonight when he got home, I proposed that he gets an hour when he gets home from work to relax, but then I get 3 hours and at least 1 feeding "Off." And he agreed.

You can tell he doesn't quite understand. He just knows that I'm not functioning well. And he's willing to work it out with me. That's all I ask.

So.. pray for patience for me.

Pray for the drugs to work and for my support system to not only support, but for me to be able to accept it.

Tonight when I had my "off time." I had a hard time. I wanted to go to him. I wanted to say "no no.. I have him." but I didn't. The frustration of the morning was fresh. And I knew it would be another long night.

So I napped.

And they survived.

Maybe with some luck, we all will.


--Trish

Birthday

Today was my birthday.

I don't know that I've ever had such a non-event birthday. I honestly kept forgetting what day it was. Being at home so much leaves me confused about the date.

David said he'd try to take the afternoon off to come home and give me a break. He got home about an hour early.

Fortunately, Robbie decided to give me the best birthday gift ever- 2 rounds of 2 hours of sleep each. Then I even got another 2 hours earlier tonight. That's 6 hours in a 24 hour period. Amazing.

David did bring me a lovely cake (my favorite- chocolate cake with cream cheese icing) and a sweet card. Then made me dinner. Then offered to tend to the baby, but Robbie was actually sleeping quite well and didn't require much tending, so he slept in the pack-n-play next to me while I slept.

My dad callled to wish me a happy birthday in the midst of my 2nd spell of sleep. When I answered the phone groggily, he didn't say much. He eventually asked if I was sleeping and when I said yes, he started laughing. "Oh, baby still not sleeping huh? Heh heh heh." He thinks it's hysterical that I get no sleep. Paybacks are hell, basically.

When I was a kid, I used to think that when we dreamed we really did go somewhere. So when I'd wake him up in the morning, I'd climb up on him, pry his eyelids open and say "ARE YOU IN THERE?!"

Apparently this is my retribution. A preemie with severe reflux who can't tolerate anything but breastmilk, but won't eat it direction from the source, who doesn't just eat every 2-3 hours, but also screams for at least 20 minutes after every feeding and can't be allowed to sleep too long even when he WILL sleep because he's so underweight that he has to eat.

I don't doubt that he was tired. But he also wasn't the one nursing me. (Brief history: My mother exclusively breastfed me for a year. I never took a bottle at all. She then abandoned me when I was 2 and didn't call again until I was 27. My dad raised me.) And even when he was the one getting up with me, it was past the point of being every 3 hours every single night.

And frankly, even it HAD been as bad as this, why would you laugh at me? Is it really funny that I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown at any given moment? I'm so tired that my brain is befuddled. That I have to put him down and walk away for 5 minutes but I'm so frustrated that I want to YELL at my 5lb baby? Yeah. HYSTERICAL.

So I yelled. At my dad. Happy birthday to me, I'm such a peach.

I should probably call and apologize. And let him do the same. But for today, I pouted.

My mother in law called to say happy birthday just as Robbie finished eating- so of course he was crying. She reacted appropriately "oh he's upset. Happy birthday, I'll let you go." She called back later to make sure things were better. Then offered to come this weekend and let me sleep. She's coming on Saturday.

Thank God for my MIL.


Also thank God for the mom of a preemie with similar issues as Robbie who emailed me today. She managed to successfully breastfeed- eventually. I needed the boost.

I also watched Oprah today. If you saw it, you know- it was about overwhelmed mothers. It started with a woman who'd left her daughter in the car all day. She died of heat stroke. I was sickened at the thought, but felt less judgy than I usually would.

Toward the end of the episode, they discussed sleep deprivation. There was some relaxation/zen guru who said "Where are the husbands? What good is a husband is they don't help."

I bawled.

Then I bawled some more.

God spoke to me today in several ways.


I saved the episode on the TiVo and will try to get David to watch the end of it. Today was the day. Today he was helpful. My "gift" for my birthday. It's a shame there has to be an occasion for him to step up, but at least he did. We know he has it in him.

Anyway, as usual, it's time for Robbie to eat. He's been up since about 12:30 (it's 4am) so hopefully he'll have minimal pain and maximum sleep. He's allowed to sleep up to 5 hours once a day. I'm probably asking for too much, but I'm hoping since he's been up for so long that I can get maybe 4 hours out of him this morning.

Wish me luck!


--Trish

Check-in

Weight gain: FAIL.

It's so frustrating. He's only gained 1 ounce in 4 days. Now, he was starving when she weighed him- he was overdue to eat, so some food in his tummy probably would have helped a little, but still.

I've even been giving him fortified bottles. Guess we'll add another. And throw another moose on the fire.

The breastfeeding is improving. It's still not great, but he'll at least latch on and nurse for a few minutes several times a day.

We have an occupational therapist coming on Thursday who is also a lactation consultant- I'm going to discuss things with her.

My milk supply is better but not great. I was making less than 50% of what he was eating and now I'm making closer to probably 70%, but the frozen supply is going quickly.

This stresses me out immensely because he doesn't tolerate formula very well and if he has to go to formula it's going to be ugly.

So I just ordered some domperidone. I'm too scared of the depression risks with Reglan. Since I feel like I'm sort of barely holding it together as it is, I'm quite sure that would push me over the edge.

Speaking of which, I had a melt down on Saturday.
I'd finally gotten some sleep. Maybe it gave me the energy to freak out, I don't know.

But I was trying to nurse Robbie and it wasn't going well. He was hysterical. I finally tried to give him a bottle, but it was too late. He was too hysterical to even calm down and take the bottle.

David had some in to watch and finally I put Robbie and the bottle down, stood up and said "David, you have to feed him. You have to. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I'm losing my fucking mind." Then went to the bathroom, closed the door and pretty much lost my shit.

After I was done crying and feeling stupid, I came back and offered to take Robbie back. David insisted he had it. And he did. It wasn't a pretty feed, he'd wail, then eat a bit, then wail some more. But he got through the bottle. And David took him for a few hours while I slept.

He promised to help more. Promised I could leave the house the next day. Promised we'd go for a walk.

None of them happened, but at least for that evening, I got some rest.

I don't know what to say about the state of my marriage. I hope that someday I can overcome the resentment I feel. But for now I've just had to accept that I'm mostly functioning as a single parent. If I expect nothing I can't be let down. Then when he DOES come through- like on Saturday- I am pleasantly surprised.

Anyway, that's the state of things for now.

It's really not as bad as I seem to be making it seem.

Robbie is beautiful. He's wonderful. He's healthy and developing well and I adore him.

I'm about to turn 32. It'll be my first birthday as a mom. At least as a mom of a real, live baby. Life is pretty good.

But man, motherhood is hard.

--Trish

Relief

HE SLEPT ALMOST 5 HOURS!

Now, I do feel a smidge of guilt for letting him sleep that long w/o eating, but frankly, I'd rather feed him every 2 hours for the entire rest of the day to make up for that lost feeding than to give back that sleep.

I slept from about 3 until 5. I fed him and put him back to bed. I spent another hour trying to get him to sleep on his own. I'd pat until he was calm, then sneak out. He's slowly work himself back up to upset and I'd start over. Finally about 6:30 I decided I was fighting a losing battle and got him up.

He was SO bright eyed and perky. It's hard to feel irritated when he's just happy as can be.

Since the sun was coming up, I opened the curtains and let him see the sun. I took him back to our room and turned on all the lights. (David wasn't out of bed yet, though his alarm had gone off. I got some perverse passive-aggressive pleasure out of turning all the lights on him.) I took his blankets off and let him lay out and kick a good long while. We played and talked and generally just had WIDE AWAKE time.

When it was getting close to time to eat, I stripped him down and changed his diaper. Of course, he managed to pee all over himself, so he got his clothes changed.

Basically I was just trying to wear him out.

When it came time to eat, I practiced with the nipple shield a bit and it worked. He nursed for about 15 minutes. Then he took almost a whole bottle. I don't know if that means he wasn't getting much from the breast (though he seemed to be swallowing) or what, but he was certainly full when we were done.

I held him upright for a half hour (I nodded off) and then put him on the boppy beside me. This isn't recommended sleeping, I know. Back to sleep. I know. I'm using the heart monitor as a crutch, but I was desperate. And it worked.

He ate around 8:15. He woke a couple of times and fussed just a bit, I don't think I woke up completely, just handed the paci and patted for a few seconds and he was back out. So was I.

I woke up a little before 1 and thought I had to be looking at the clock wrong. Then I thought I had to have remembered what time he ate wrong- maybe it was 9 and not 8?

I keep a chart of when he eats so I checked- nope, it was 8.
He'd slept 4 1/2 hours. And was still sleeping.

I got up and made him a bottle and then came to wake him up. He was cranky. That sort of "hey, I was sleeping, leave me the eff alone" cranky that I feel pretty much every day.

I tried to put him to the breast but that was a no-go. The bottle feeding didn't go the greatest- his reflux was acting up. You could hear him struggling to swallow milk down as milk was coming back up. It seems worse if I let him get too hungry and I felt bad about it, but in the end, I got most of the bottle down him and resolved to feed him again in 2 hours.

We're now in the recliner. He's half awake and peeking at me.

I feel like a new woman.

Thank you so much for your kind comments & emails. You literally made me cry.

I know something has to give, but I just don't know how.

I'm trying to work on the schedule. And I'll try the baby massage- I did learn some in the NICU but hadn't even thought to try it for sleep time. (Apparently I'm stupid.) He likes his bouncy seat better than most anything. I'll be glad when he really gets some better head control (he's doing really well in that regard, though.) because he REALLY likes to sit upright and I think using a jumper or exersaucer will be great for him.

As for David- we have talked. We've fought. His mom has talked to him. He just doesn't see it my way. He was better at the beginning of the week after he'd spent a day taking care of Robbie, but as the week has gone on, it's gotten worse again.

My plan is to make him do it tomorrow.

Wish us luck!

--Trish


P.S. How 'bout some random Robbie pics are a reward for being so nice to me?














Moosies on my sleeper! They make me grow big and strong!

Deprived

The sleep deprivation is insane.

The developmental therapist who came to see Robbie on Monday asked if he's awake for 10 or 15 minutes at a time. This was at about noon.

I flatly replied "He fell asleep just before you got here. He'd been up since 12:30am."
Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

Seriously, the kid doesn't sleep.

He's not necessarily crying a lot- though he does have those periods, too. But he wants to be held and talked to and played with and patted and handed his pacifier 800 times in a row. As long as you're willing to do those things, he's a very happy baby. But if you're not- he cries. And cries. And cries.

Now, but all rights- he has it coming. He got jipped out of 3 months of uterine bliss.

But seriously, cut a mom a break.

Two hours of sleep yesterday, an hour this morning and an hour this afternoon.

I swear to you, the only time he sleeps is when someone visits so that I CAN'T go lay down.

The home nurse called about 11:30 to ask if she could come. I told her to come on- it's not like he's sleeping anyway. Five minutes after I hung up- he was out cold.

He slept until she got here and woke him to weigh him and such (5 lb 6 oz, for the record.)

She asked if I was sleeping and I scoffed.

Then, because she's apparently an angel walking on earth, she asked if she could come back after work and just look after him a while so I could rest. And that she'd bring food.

And I let her because I have no pride. Seriously- a nurse asked me if she could let me relax a bit? HELL. YEAH.

David wasn't expected home until 10 or 11 pm. I was on my own with practically no sleep. Music to my ears.

Right after she left, my dad came over. He offered to hold Robbie while I took a shower. I hadn't showered since Wednesday. I debated long and hard about whether to nap or shower but it was nearly time for Robbie to eat again, so I figured I'd fit in what I had time for- a shower. God, it felt good.

Eventually Robbie slept an hour. I joined him. He woke up hungry, of course and as I got up to make his bottle, my angel nurse arrived.

She brought a spinach salad and pomegranite-blueberry juice and a promise to work with us on breastfeeding.

she helped me get him on with the nipple shield- he nursed for 20 minutes which is about 4x as long as I've been able to get him to go in the last few weeks. My milk supply is shit. Or rather, my ability to get the milk from my boobs to a bottle is shit. I feel engorged, but the pump just isn't cutting it. And of course, my time to pump is very limited. I'm doing the best I can. If he would nurse, it would save me an immense amount of time and I think there would be plenty for him to eat.

Then I ate and drank and pumped without having to get up 23 times to pat/paci/sing to Robbie.

She was here for about 2 hours when my husband got home.

I wanted to send him back away because she's more helpful than he is. But she left.

No time for a nap.

I asked David to wash bottles while I fed Robbie and pumped. Two hours later, still nothing washed. It was close to time to pump again and I was out of clean pump equipment so instead of sleeping- Robbie was actually asleep- I washed bottles and plotted painful deaths for David.

He has to work tomorrow, too, so I'm on my own again.

I seriously don't know how single moms do it. And you moms of twins out there? God bless you.

I literally cried this morning and begged him to please, please, please go to sleep.
I love that he's so neurologically sound as to be awake and alert this much, but seriously..he's really a newborn. He's supposed to sleep like 16 hours a day. He MIGHT have slept 6 today, total. That's 20 minute naps, an hour here, an hour there. Long enough for me to put him to bed, MAYBE pump, and he's up again.

Tomorrow he might sleep all day. Every couple of days he has one of those. And I take full advantage, believe me. He's got to be due, right?

Maybe he's on some weird 72 hour day rhythm.
I don't know.

I've been trying to do the see-the-sun-in-the-morning/darkness-at-night thing. He doesn't seem to notice.

I suppose that's Karma. David and I are both night owls and I know I was NOT a good sleeper as a kid. I fought it with all my might.

My dad just keeps laughing at me.


Okay, enough of my whining. It's time to feed the kiddo. Then he's going to sleep. RIGHT?

--Trish

P.S. In an amusing turn of events, it turns out that my husband's cat is troubled by Robbie's crying. Three times in the last day when he's been crying, she's come to bite me on the foot/leg. I'm not sure what's she's trying to communicate- maybe it's "Shut that thing up!" or "What's wrong with it!?" but I think it's some sort of concern. Earlier he was laying in our bed crying while I got a diaper and warmed a bottle. She hopped up and sniffed at him, the kneaded the place next to him for a while. I think she might have been trying to soothe him.

Cats are weird.
D