Gametes In Love

In my naivety, pre-childbirth I had idealized that I would exclusively pump and then feed G the expressed milk. G would still benefit from the breast-milk, S could bond with him more through feeding himself, and so on and so forth. My first nursing session as a result felt a bit awkward. It wasn’t my plan! What if I was setting myself a bad precedent?

And then I got over it and forgot all about it… and little be knowns to me, became quite attached to nursing.

How do I know this? Because the lactation consultant at our pedi’s office has asked me to exclusively pump for the next week in an attempt to rule out a few more things related to G’s recent weight issues. This way we’ll know if a) I am not producing enough; or b) G is not pulling enough from me despite the available supply. If both of these turn out to not be true… well, then we go into the pediatrician with this additional information and start pursuing other avenues.

So now I have to pump, note the time & quantity of each session, feed and then note his behavior and mood throughout the day. Luckily I’m already tracking 90% of the above (thank you Trixietracker!) for quite some time now so pulling up that data won’t be difficult. We do this for 5 days. On Monday I go in for another weight check and have another consultation.

5 days might not seem like much, but the logistics around it are making my head spin. My idea of exclusively pumping now seems so impossible. How do I get out of my house now? How do I manage to pump and keep G happy at the same time? He’s a pretty high maintenance kid, and won’t patiently wait by while I pump. I already have milk ready so that he doesn’t have to wait for me to pump to eat, but still…

This is what we’ll have to do when I get back to work, but it sounds easier having to pump while in the office — at least there I don’t have a little boy demanding my attention while I do so.

At his weight check this past Monday, G had not only NOT gained any weight, or even stayed the same as he had in previous weeks, he’s now lost weight.

I’m scared… and sad.

Scared, because what if this test shows it is me? Worse… what if it’s him?

Sad? Yeah, sad! I can’t explain this portion. My logical mind tells me to get over it, and deal with the issue at hand. Yet, I still can’t shake the fact that I’ve enjoyed having this experience with him, and I feel like it’s being taken away from me. I no longer feel as special… as important to him… adequate.

The weird part is that given my family history, I always knew there would be a chance (a good one mind you) that I might not be able to provide for my child. I told myself to embrace each day I’d be able to nurse him as a gift. Except that I didn’t. I took it for granted. And now that there’s a chance this might be over for us, all these feelings are coming up to bite me in the rear.

I hate feeling this way! I hate that we’re here!

Last Monday G weighed in just a tad over 10 lbs. He had no weight gain in a week, and two weeks prior he lost a bit of weight. As his sole source of food this is giving me complexes you can’t possibly imagine. He has PLENTY of diapers each day, so I know he is eating enough and is hydrated enough, so I don’t know what gives.

It doesn’t help when I hear friends casually mention their 18lb 4 month olds or 10lb 1 month olds. G is coming in at the 3rd percentile for his age group, and whereas I’m keen on the idea that my child is a rare diamond in the rough, when it comes to physical development I’m really happy for him to be very average.

I did have an epiphany this morning though, which after a tad of internet poking around (seriously, what did people do prior to the internet?) I think my idea may have some merit. Last year, amids our fertility testing, I was diagnosed with a thyroid disorder. Hypothyroid to be precise. I’ve been on medication ever since and will most likely stay on it for the rest of my life. Within a month of being on it, I did notice my metabolism leveling off a bit and I noticed long desired weight loss in my body. All this was good… back then. Now, I started to wonder if it’s possible that the medication transfered to G through my milk, or if it impacted the content of my milk, such that it is delaying G’s ability to grow. Turns out there is some merit to this and I’m not so crazy after all.  From my internet research I found this:

The likelihood is, if you are hypothyroid, and taking the proper dose of thyroid hormone replacement, you will be able to nurse your baby. However, La Leche League’s Breastfeeding Answer Book says, “Women with a history of thyroid problems may need to be retested if their nursing baby is slow in gaining weight, as changes in metabolism can affect milk production.”

Although I had my OB retest my thyroid levels a few weeks after birth (since my thyroid got a bit wacky after pregnancy), I’m going to ask to check it again. Also, I will be bringing this up to G’s pediatrician. We had weight gain conversations, and attributed his slow progress to his reflux. I never thought to mention my prescription regimen.

I may be grasping for straws here. I just want my little guy to be healthy and happy. I’m not thrilled about the idea of transitioning to formula, and even the idea of supplementing makes  me feel inadequate, but I have to keep reminding myself that this isn’t about me.

However, in ME news, as of today I’m only 3 lbs away from my pre-pregnancy weight. My body shape is a different matter, but we’re getting there 🙂

In summary: weight loss in mommy? Good. Weight loss/stall in baby? Boo!

As we all know, storks bring couples babies. And if you’ve been following us for awhile you know that our stork unfortunately inherited my terrible sense of direction so is probably still circling the forests of Bolivia with an upside down map. As such we had to replace said stork with a higher tech alternative with “M.D.” in their name. White feathers, white lab coat… same difference.

It’s been almost a year since 7 of my gametes were introduced to 7 of S’. December 8th last year was my egg retreival. To commemorate the occasion, I took G to the RE clinic so that he could meet his “stork”.

Several weeks after G was born we got a call from the clinic to follow up. They asked us to bring him in. Honestly, this request took me aback. Although I understand that it’s great for staff morale, I really didn’t want to do anything that would upset current patients by reminding them why they were there in the first place. I debated it for a long time and, in the end, sentiment won over and we went. I asked for as late in the day time as possible as to avoid a full waiting room. When we arrived I was relieved to see that there was no-one waiting, and fortunately it stayed that way while we were there. Each time the door opened though, I got a nervous jolt. I really, really feared upsetting anyone.

The one thing I didn’t expect was how I would feel being back. Walking into that office brought back many memories. I remembered the chairs by the door S and I sat in while waiting on the day of the retrieval… the way I felt at each appointment… the nervous optimism each time I arrived, and the twinge of disappointment at my weak response to the meds when I left.  I wondered if we were to ever try again if I would feel the same way. Honestly, keeping G from fussing and crying while we waited kept me from crying. Although I was happy we were there together, I was also relieved when we got back in the car to go home. I was happy to leave those emotions back in the clinic and genuinely hope to not open the door back to them until the next time we go.

I didn’t really know what to say to Dr. B when she came out. I must have said “thank you” in about a dozen different ways, although I think G’s smiles at her were probably the best of all. She looked genuinely happy to see him.

I am glad we went, and now G has met his “stork” 🙂

Pics from G’s first Thanxgiving week-end with my parents

G’s morning routine is to wake up sometime between 6 and 7. Whereas this works for him, starting off a day with him that early produces one tired mommy.  So I’ve gotten into the habit, just in the past week, to get him out of his crib, change him and then bring him back into our room with me where we cuddle, I feed him and we fall back asleep. Typically I can milk out about another 2 hours of sleep with him this way.

Today I got lucky. 6:30 wakeup, quick diaper change, a 20 minute breakfast for him and he was out. As was I. He woke up one more time, one more snack, then out again… until 10! It was sweet!

… until I picked him up and my sheet under his bottom had a biiiiiiig wet spot over it. I know it wasn’t me, and his dad was long gone, so there leaves only one culprit — the G-man. Granted, he was in that diaper for 4 hours, but we haven’t had a leak that bad in a long time. I’m pretty happy right now we have a waterproof pad on our mattress.

So now I gotta think about what to do next (aside from the obvious change the sheets). Is our morning cuddle & nap routine done, or do I need to invest in some underpads for his visits?

Who am I kidding? Sleep is too good to pass up. I guess I’ll be sleeping on some crunchy sheets for awhile. Besides, how can I give this up:

Isn’t he an angel when he sleeps?

Much to the horror of anyone who is not deaf, I’ve been singing to G a bunch. I’ve forgone any actual lyrics to songs and have started making up my own. Here for example is the diaper song G’s been subjected to over the last two days.

Note: not all words may be found in the Merriam Webster dictionary

[to the Adams family theme song]

They’re wet or they are mucky,
And changing can be sucky!
They’re occasionally yucky,
The diapers on the Griff!

The Kissaluvs are purdy,
But not when they are dirty.
Yet I’m sure glad they’re sturdy,
The diapers on the Griff!

When G hears this he smiles and laughs. Most probably because when I sing I look like a fool (and probably sound like one too). Either way… until he’s old enough to tell me to stay quiet he’ll be subjected to more of the above.