Today at the library I encountered what I think is a genuinely miserable/angry human being.
I couldn't pass it off as more than he was just having a bad day. I know it's not my business and I will likely not have to deal with him again, but I felt bad for his daughter.
Let me back up.
I asked one of the librarians for her suggestion of some picture books that would be good for Lucy. Naturally, I'm pretty good friends with almost all of the library staff, and on a friendly basis with all of them since I've volunteered there, so the two of us were having a conversation while she picked out books.
I didn't notice the man standing about five feet away from us with his daughter. We paused, and he said, "Gosh they're not even paying attention enough for us to ask a question."
Library lady apologized and asked what he'd like to know. The question isn't important, it was trivial, but it's not like she was just talking to me. She was helping me pick out books to read to my child, who was peacefully strapped to my chest.
He didn't like the answer to his question (it's a library, not a video game store. They don't have Wii games, sir) so he walked away with his daughter, in a huff.
As he walked away, I loudly said, "Thank you for helping suggest books for my daughter."
A little later, I was checking out my books, and he asked a little boy near the check outs if you could check DVD's out using self-check out. The little boy told him yes.
I thought I would be nice and tell him he needed to make sure and unlock the DVD's before leaving, since I had heard library staff telling someone the same thing over the phone (in this case the person had left the library without unlocking them.)
He shot me a dirty look and said, "Thanks!" in the kind of way where you can tell it's clearly not meant.
Both times this guy was a jerk-wad, his little girl, maybe 12 years old, looked bewildered and sad.
I could tell the kid just wanted to have a nice time at the library with her dad and like usual, his bad attitude was leaving her feeling anxiety.
She seemed like a sweet little girl, and I just felt really bad for her. Dad's are heroes to their baby girls, and I can't help but feel like his behavior is going to rub off on her one day.
Dad's not just having a bad day, he's miserable and angry, and takes it out on strangers by being rude.
In order to fit in with her hero, his girl is probably going to grow up to be rude to others if either he doesn't change or her mom doesn't set good enough of an example to counteract the rude behavior.
I think I notice this stuff more now that I have a baby. Every little thing I do I scrutinize because I want to make sure and be a good influence for her. I just hope I don't lose sight of that like this dad has.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Sleep!
I'm still in shock hours later, but L slept from 11 p.m. to 6 a.m. this morning!
Of course I woke up twice in the night on my own out of habit and to check on her.
Not getting my hopes up about repeat performances, but happy today nonetheless.
We've been working on getting a bedtime routine for baby girl. Since I'm going back to work in two and a half weeks and I'll need to survive the morning without a nap, this is important.
Prior to this week, it was go to bed whenever and wake up whenever, and still be tired and take a nap mid-morning.
Now it's bath every other day around 6:30/7 p.m., put on pajamas, swaddle, nurse and bed by 8 p.m., with a ”snack” nursing session around 11 p.m.
Which is nice because it means an hour or so to: take a bath; hang out with Andy and watch a movie; craft; read; look at Pinterest/Regretsy/Reddit on the laptop and not my phone; be lazy.
I haven't quite been able to get to bed before 11, which is probably why I need a nap, but damn, I need my me-time!
Wish I didn't have to prepare for the transition into working, I'm going to miss my girl, but may as well set us up for success.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Lucy at Lucille's
We took my mom out for dinner at Lucille's (I may or may not have chosen that restaurant on purpose *wink*). My dad and brothers were able to come along. We were a bit worried since dinner was at 4 p.m., which is the start of cranky time. But she was pretty good. I picked that time because I knew the restaurant wouldn't be crowded, so she'd be able to be passed around the table. My mom had held her once before, but my dad and brothers had not. She did pretty good for most of the meal, at least until it was my turn to eat ; )
My dad gave her a bottle, which she didn't want and I knew that meant it was i'mtiredbuti'mnotgonnasleepsucka time, and I offered to take her back. I mean, she can really wail when she's fighting sleep. But my dad just held her and soothed her while she freaked out, until she fell asleep. It was cute.
My mom and brother Jared got some quality holding time, which was really cute.
My dad gave her a bottle, which she didn't want and I knew that meant it was i'mtiredbuti'mnotgonnasleepsucka time, and I offered to take her back. I mean, she can really wail when she's fighting sleep. But my dad just held her and soothed her while she freaked out, until she fell asleep. It was cute.
My mom and brother Jared got some quality holding time, which was really cute.
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| uncle jared |
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| with grandma |
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| grandpa |
Photo bomb!
Just realized today I haven't posted any photos of Lucy. They are kind of in chronological order, but I'm not hip to Blogger and I also am posting this with a sleeping infant on my chest. You do what you've gotta do. Enjoy!
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| No wires or tubing...I believe this was day three or four |
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| Six weeks...what a difference from the previous photo. |
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| hearing test. The nurse told us to take a picture of this so when she's a teenager and pretends she can't hear us we can prove otherwise. |
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| Last day in NICU...she gassy! |
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| car ride home! |
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| First week home |
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| One month old |
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| Seven weeks...getting ready to go get coffee with mommy and a friend who recently just had a baby herself |
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| Eight weeks...hittin' the gym |
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| I'm so inept when it comes to Blogger, sheesh! This is three weeks |
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Huhfusion
There should be an adjective to describe the look that people get when they walk up to our stroller and I spit out a briefing about Lucy's condition before they automatically stick their faces up close to her.
It's a look of confusion, disbelief and huh?
Maybe huhfusion? Or disbehuh?
I find myself playing zone defense on outings even with people I know, love and trust, with the following disclaimer before I let anyone look at my child, usually said all as one word:
Shehasalowwhitebloodcellcountsoyoucanlookbutnottouchandstaybackfromthestrollertwofeet.
That's usually followed by the look of huhfusion.
Then we sometimes get the: well why are you out in public?
This is why I asked the doctor for a doctor's note when he said we could take Lucy out in public as long as it's not too crowded of a place, such as the mall, grocery store, park, lightly populated restaurants, etc.
Because I knew everyone would think we were making that shit up.
We're not.
And buh-leave me, I'm glad we're not making it up, because if I had to stay in the house all the time for the first six weeks of her life, I would have gone nuts.
But luckily, threat-level-midnight has been lifted and people can now come into our house as long as they're not sick, and she can be held by people other than us.
We've done such a good job of keeping her healthy, and most people we run into are very polite about her condition and looking at Lucy from a distance.
Until yesterday. When I learned that I have no problem physically restraining someone getting too close to my kid.
I ran into a former Starbucks co-worker outside of Target when I was wheeling my squalling infant to our car, saying to her, "I told you we were leaving, here we go!"
I was excited to see her, but not very excited when she said, "Ooh you have a baby!" and proceeded to walk up to my stroller and start to open it up all while her face was a food away from the baby.
I grabbed her. Grabbed her by the arm and told her she couldn't get close to my baby because of her condition.
She looked horrified and apologized, and I made brief small talk with her and then kept on walking.
I couldn't get that mad at her, because she didn't know.
But had to stop her, because a) I don't know if she is sick or not, since I had only seen her for a split second and b) she had five children with her, and children are germ buckets when it comes to my kid.
I think it's incredibly rude to go up to a stroller and put your face in/touch the baby/touch the stroller/open the stroller without even asking.
I would never do that, no matter how well I know the person.
It's crazy what lengths I'll go to keep her safe. I am extremely neurotic when it comes to people washing their hands and then sanitizing them before touching Lucy.
When she's crying in public, I get scared that a well-meaning grandmotherly type will suddenly appear out of nowhere and try to get to close to the baby and help me. (Not too far off after yesterday's close call.)
I freaked out at Starbucks last week because someone sneezed while we were there.
Before handing my daughter off to my mother-in-law in Target, I told her once she was holding the baby she couldn't touch anything in the store. This resulted in consolidating two carts and a basket worth of items into one cart to prevent this.
Whenever I give my spiel to someone I know before letting them see the baby, I feel relief and then immediately I think of how I must look to others due to the look they get on their face, because I know I look scared any time someone approaches her.
The look of huhfusion usually happens with acquaintances/people we haven't seen in awhile, because they are the ones who have no idea what we're going through with her.
This makes me think it's not common for people to guard their newborns as closely as we do ours.
Sometimes I think people feel we're overprotective and neurotic about her health.
And that's fine, because we know that not taking the steps we have truly is the difference between life and death for our little one.
It's a look of confusion, disbelief and huh?
Maybe huhfusion? Or disbehuh?
I find myself playing zone defense on outings even with people I know, love and trust, with the following disclaimer before I let anyone look at my child, usually said all as one word:
Shehasalowwhitebloodcellcountsoyoucanlookbutnottouchandstaybackfromthestrollertwofeet.
That's usually followed by the look of huhfusion.
Then we sometimes get the: well why are you out in public?
This is why I asked the doctor for a doctor's note when he said we could take Lucy out in public as long as it's not too crowded of a place, such as the mall, grocery store, park, lightly populated restaurants, etc.
Because I knew everyone would think we were making that shit up.
We're not.
And buh-leave me, I'm glad we're not making it up, because if I had to stay in the house all the time for the first six weeks of her life, I would have gone nuts.
But luckily, threat-level-midnight has been lifted and people can now come into our house as long as they're not sick, and she can be held by people other than us.
We've done such a good job of keeping her healthy, and most people we run into are very polite about her condition and looking at Lucy from a distance.
Until yesterday. When I learned that I have no problem physically restraining someone getting too close to my kid.
I ran into a former Starbucks co-worker outside of Target when I was wheeling my squalling infant to our car, saying to her, "I told you we were leaving, here we go!"
I was excited to see her, but not very excited when she said, "Ooh you have a baby!" and proceeded to walk up to my stroller and start to open it up all while her face was a food away from the baby.
I grabbed her. Grabbed her by the arm and told her she couldn't get close to my baby because of her condition.
She looked horrified and apologized, and I made brief small talk with her and then kept on walking.
I couldn't get that mad at her, because she didn't know.
But had to stop her, because a) I don't know if she is sick or not, since I had only seen her for a split second and b) she had five children with her, and children are germ buckets when it comes to my kid.
I think it's incredibly rude to go up to a stroller and put your face in/touch the baby/touch the stroller/open the stroller without even asking.
I would never do that, no matter how well I know the person.
It's crazy what lengths I'll go to keep her safe. I am extremely neurotic when it comes to people washing their hands and then sanitizing them before touching Lucy.
When she's crying in public, I get scared that a well-meaning grandmotherly type will suddenly appear out of nowhere and try to get to close to the baby and help me. (Not too far off after yesterday's close call.)
I freaked out at Starbucks last week because someone sneezed while we were there.
Before handing my daughter off to my mother-in-law in Target, I told her once she was holding the baby she couldn't touch anything in the store. This resulted in consolidating two carts and a basket worth of items into one cart to prevent this.
Whenever I give my spiel to someone I know before letting them see the baby, I feel relief and then immediately I think of how I must look to others due to the look they get on their face, because I know I look scared any time someone approaches her.
The look of huhfusion usually happens with acquaintances/people we haven't seen in awhile, because they are the ones who have no idea what we're going through with her.
This makes me think it's not common for people to guard their newborns as closely as we do ours.
Sometimes I think people feel we're overprotective and neurotic about her health.
And that's fine, because we know that not taking the steps we have truly is the difference between life and death for our little one.
Monday, September 24, 2012
My panic attack birth story : )
I
say panic attack because my health was never in danger at any time yet I
freaked the eff out during my c-section until the baby was out.
Because lets face it, major abdominal surgery freaked me out more than the thought of squeezing a watermelon through a lemon sized orifice.
We found out I'd have to have a c-section about two weeks before Lucy was born. At my 36 week check-up, the doctor discovered that the baby was breech, so the next day I went in for an ECV, the acronym for pound and push on my stomach in an attempt to make the baby flip head down.
Looking back on it after all we went through, I'm glad she was stubborn and didn't flip downward.
We were pretty bummed about having to have a c-section, because again I know I'm cray cray but Andy and I were both looking forward to experiencing a natural drug free childbirth together.
But as my dad says, Lucy is smarter than we all think (I'll get to that in a bit).
So I was absolutely terrified at the prospect of being cut open, even though I've never known anyone who has perished during a c-section (both of our moms each had three of them, after all).
My first hurdle was getting over the IV, but luckily I expressed my wuss-dom to the nurse and she numbed the site first before putting it in. Note to nurses: it's a nice thought to offer to lidocaine to everyone getting an IV!
Then came the spinal. It was all good, didn't feel it going in. But then it traveled too far up my spine, making it feel like an elephant was sitting on my chest and my arms got all tingly.
So of course I start gasping and saying I can't breathe. They gave me oxygen and then said if I could tell them I couldn't breathe I was fine.
They were supposed to bring Andy in right after the spinal, but they had already cut me open by the time he came in. I guess I looked terrified so he decided to sit by me and not look on the other side of the curtain. That was very appreciated since I was indeed terrified!!
They got Lucy's butt out first, and she started peeing and pooping as soon as she was out. Then I felt pushing up near my rib cage, and knew they were working on popping her head out since that's where my ribs hurt all the time.
She didn't cry until the nurse gave her a shot, which was about five minutes after she was born. I was a little freaked out by that but everyone assured me she was doing great.
I loved the look on Andy's face when she was born. I can't really describe it, but it was a combination of proud, happy and excited plus some other adjectives I don't have the words for.
I was able to hold her right after she was born while they were still sewing me up, which was a great distraction from being sewn up.
Andy stayed with her when they took her out to recovery to be examined and have her first bath.
When I was finally rolled out into recovery, Andy told me the nurse agreed she looked more like a Lucy than a Sophie. I didn't know it then, but the nurse who was taking care of her would become an important part of our lives for the next few days. She became our favorite nurse during Lucy's stay in the NICU because she had helpful advice for us when it came to feeding and taking care of Lucy, but also let us do our own thing because she had faith in our parenting abilities. She was also really funny, and shared stories about her relationship with her daughter, her husband's relationship with her daughter and life in Poland before she moved to the U.S. Some of my favorite moments were when she would not understand an idiom I used. My favorite was when I said I was going to run to the bathroom, and she looked horrified and told me not to run because of the c-section. I assured her I was not going to run, but it was just an expression.
As Eva the nurse and the pediatrician started handling her, and as I started nursing her and holding her, she started getting these little spots on her skin that I'd later find out were small bruises under her skin.
She was born with an extremely low platelet count, and was whisked away to the NICU for a platelet transfusion.
The doctor told me it was a matter of life and death for her to have the transfusion and asked if I wanted Lucy to have it. I exclaimed yes and practically shooed him out of recovery.
I didn't sleep that night knowing my daughter was downstairs in the NICU by herself. Andy was great and went down to check on her every couple of hours, waking up at 3 a.m. to do so.
The next day, around 5:30 a.m., the nurse came in and had me stand up. It really wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be (probably because of the drugs) and I was able to be wheeled down to see the baby.
Our NICU adventure will have to wait, since let's face it, she's napping, so I'm working on borrowed time here.
Because lets face it, major abdominal surgery freaked me out more than the thought of squeezing a watermelon through a lemon sized orifice.
We found out I'd have to have a c-section about two weeks before Lucy was born. At my 36 week check-up, the doctor discovered that the baby was breech, so the next day I went in for an ECV, the acronym for pound and push on my stomach in an attempt to make the baby flip head down.
Looking back on it after all we went through, I'm glad she was stubborn and didn't flip downward.
We were pretty bummed about having to have a c-section, because again I know I'm cray cray but Andy and I were both looking forward to experiencing a natural drug free childbirth together.
But as my dad says, Lucy is smarter than we all think (I'll get to that in a bit).
So I was absolutely terrified at the prospect of being cut open, even though I've never known anyone who has perished during a c-section (both of our moms each had three of them, after all).
My first hurdle was getting over the IV, but luckily I expressed my wuss-dom to the nurse and she numbed the site first before putting it in. Note to nurses: it's a nice thought to offer to lidocaine to everyone getting an IV!
Then came the spinal. It was all good, didn't feel it going in. But then it traveled too far up my spine, making it feel like an elephant was sitting on my chest and my arms got all tingly.
So of course I start gasping and saying I can't breathe. They gave me oxygen and then said if I could tell them I couldn't breathe I was fine.
They were supposed to bring Andy in right after the spinal, but they had already cut me open by the time he came in. I guess I looked terrified so he decided to sit by me and not look on the other side of the curtain. That was very appreciated since I was indeed terrified!!
They got Lucy's butt out first, and she started peeing and pooping as soon as she was out. Then I felt pushing up near my rib cage, and knew they were working on popping her head out since that's where my ribs hurt all the time.
She didn't cry until the nurse gave her a shot, which was about five minutes after she was born. I was a little freaked out by that but everyone assured me she was doing great.
I loved the look on Andy's face when she was born. I can't really describe it, but it was a combination of proud, happy and excited plus some other adjectives I don't have the words for.
I was able to hold her right after she was born while they were still sewing me up, which was a great distraction from being sewn up.
Andy stayed with her when they took her out to recovery to be examined and have her first bath.
When I was finally rolled out into recovery, Andy told me the nurse agreed she looked more like a Lucy than a Sophie. I didn't know it then, but the nurse who was taking care of her would become an important part of our lives for the next few days. She became our favorite nurse during Lucy's stay in the NICU because she had helpful advice for us when it came to feeding and taking care of Lucy, but also let us do our own thing because she had faith in our parenting abilities. She was also really funny, and shared stories about her relationship with her daughter, her husband's relationship with her daughter and life in Poland before she moved to the U.S. Some of my favorite moments were when she would not understand an idiom I used. My favorite was when I said I was going to run to the bathroom, and she looked horrified and told me not to run because of the c-section. I assured her I was not going to run, but it was just an expression.
As Eva the nurse and the pediatrician started handling her, and as I started nursing her and holding her, she started getting these little spots on her skin that I'd later find out were small bruises under her skin.
She was born with an extremely low platelet count, and was whisked away to the NICU for a platelet transfusion.
The doctor told me it was a matter of life and death for her to have the transfusion and asked if I wanted Lucy to have it. I exclaimed yes and practically shooed him out of recovery.
I didn't sleep that night knowing my daughter was downstairs in the NICU by herself. Andy was great and went down to check on her every couple of hours, waking up at 3 a.m. to do so.
The next day, around 5:30 a.m., the nurse came in and had me stand up. It really wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be (probably because of the drugs) and I was able to be wheeled down to see the baby.
Our NICU adventure will have to wait, since let's face it, she's napping, so I'm working on borrowed time here.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Learning curve
Hopefully soon I'll have the time and energy to write her birth story.
Her as in Lucille Marie, AKA Lucy.
Yep, we had a baby. She was born at 18:48 on Sept. 1, weighing in at 7 lbs 5 oz, 19 3/4 inches long.
Gotta make this short since who knows when she'll wake up!
Here's a couple things I've learned in the past ten days:
Her as in Lucille Marie, AKA Lucy.
Yep, we had a baby. She was born at 18:48 on Sept. 1, weighing in at 7 lbs 5 oz, 19 3/4 inches long.
Gotta make this short since who knows when she'll wake up!
Here's a couple things I've learned in the past ten days:
- C-Section recovery not as bad as I thought it would be
- My husband is an amazing father. I knew that before she was even born, but now I really know it, if you know what I mean. He's better at changing diapers than I am, and absolutely adores Lucy. They kind of just hang out together, it's really cute.
- It sucks being stuck to one room with her, due to her low white blood cell count. And not having visitors is hard. But anything to keep her safe we're willing to do. But she's basically quarantined for a month.
- Face masks make my skin really dry. I caught a cold in the hospital, and while I feel better, I have to wear a mask around the baby until my cough goes away.
- I can get by on sleeping in one hour chunks during the night, but should probably nap more during the day. I tend to forget I just had major surgery and try to take on the world (chores) even though Andy reminds me not to overdo it.
- Lucy is a noisy sleeper, but can sleep through anything (dogs barking, videos on the laptop)
- I don't think I realized just how busy we would be between feedings, diaper changes, burping, pumping breastmilk, nursing, napping, baby laundry and finding time for the dogs. I should totally be sleeping right now.
- I never thought making a phone call would be a task. I don't normally enjoy talking on the phone, I'm much more of a texter/IM'er. But now it's like, okay, she just fell asleep, so what should I do with that precious time in between? I usually choose nap or read a book. I feel bad for those who would like to talk with me on the phone, but sometimes I just can't drum up the energy to do that. I never thought a phone call would require energy.
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