Month 3

Well, my monkey is now 3 months and a week old. Woohoo! Here are some highlights from when he was 2 months old... It seems like it was only a couple of weeks ago.

 

We went to get some cloth diapers (the real deal) to use as burp cloths since they're super absorbent. But when we left the store it was POURING (this picture doesn't do it justice). I forgot my umbrella so we were stuck under an awning for about 15 minutes until I had the revelation, "I bought burp cloths because they're super absorbent." It wasn't my brightest moment. But you didn't seem to mind. You were asleep the whole time.

You enjoy your swing. Especially with you super soft blanket under you. And no pants on.

You also look pretty spiffy with shades on. Happy first Mother's Day to me!

As I was going through familysearch.org I decided to update your info. They asked me how I knew...

My craft room is shared with your bedroom. Because you REALLY like your changing table and it has rails on the side, I let you chill out there until you get fussy. But apparently you went the "fall asleep" route instead.

You still have awesome hair. I love it.

Although your dad thinks you already have daddy issues, I beg to differ.

I would say that after your parents and grandparents, your cousin Jackie is one of your biggest fans. She loves to look at you, kiss you, and bring you your pacifier.

3 months (Hey, I at least got it on your month marker this time!) 23.75", 11lbs 12oz

You really enjoy the backseat when I can make faces at you.

You REALLY don't like tummy time. Most of the time you cry in rebellion but this take you decided to take a different approach. Touché.

On date night after taking family pictures.

I'm a lucky gal having two handsome guys like you two!

We were playing with my phone so that you could see yourself. You were a bit confused. But hey, I would be too with a crazy-haired woman behind you.

"Get that light outta my face!"  I'm not saying you're just like your dad, but most mornings you are not a fan of the lights when we turn them on. We wake up pretty early on days when I have to go to work which necessitates Dad cuddling you and feeding you while I pump and get your stuff ready downstairs. 

"What's pumping?" you ask? Well, you, sir, were pretty stubborn and decided not to nurse from the tap. Since I still want to give you breast milk, I hook myself up to a pump 7 times a day, 30 minutes (at least) each time and get you stuff. I don't like it, but hey, at least you still get the good stuff. Plus, since you don't eat as much as I make I get to donate the excess to a couple of families in the area whose babies need milk too. It's a win-win.

A few little memories

For a historian, I really suck at tracking the personal history of myself and my child. I had the goal of taking a picture of Atticus every 1 month anniversary of his birth. The first month I reminded myself to take a picture but forgot throughout the day and just took one after Justin had swaddled him before going to bed. For the second month I reminded myself and just forgot to take a picture until the next day. So I'm just going to share a few pictures and write down a little bit about my favorite child under 2" tall (although, given his recent checkup that will probably end soon as well). I hope you'll forgive me as I post a ton of pictures to help me (and maybe one day Atticus) remember some important things about my little boy's first two months.

Born 2/13/13 @ 9:19pm. 7.4#, 21"

You spent two weeks and three days in the NICU

After almost two weeks with a feeding tube, you decided it was high time to get rid of it and ended up taking it out yourself.
"Who, sweet innocent me?"

You came home 3/2/13



From the get-go you were a very active sleeper. You broke out of swaddling blankets and Velcro swaddlers. You'd also scoot your way across the bed like a little inch worm. Your dad and I would place bets on how far and in what position we would find you each morning.

Your first bath 3/6/13

One month!

After your first Sunday at church 3/17/13. 

Despite your sleeping habits, you're actually a very calm baby.

You also have amazing hair when you sleep.

Your first ferry ride was on the Algiers ferry 3/30/13.

Happy Easter!

You were blessed 3/31/2013. Contrary to the face you are making, you were actually calm while lots of men that love you held you and your dad blessed you.

You really like music. Especially Motown and anything with a good beat.
"Hip hop hooray!"

Your "first" George's Favorite from Hansen's Sno-Bliz. We'll need to take you back in the not too distant future so you can have a real one.

You are your dad's favorite toy. And you look a lot like him.



I thought it was amusing that I call you my monkey and the first toy you actively tried to reach and play with was a monkey.
A little after two months: 10.5#, 22.75"

It stinks not being able to spend every day with you since I have to work. But I like sitting in the back of the car while Dad plays chauffeur so that I can see your happy, toothless smile. It makes it easier for me.

Although it seems you get tired of me playing paparazzi.

 

Emotional Roller Coaster

I knew hormones went crazy after having a baby, I just never realized how much.

We brought Atticus home on Saturday, March 2. I should have been excited and happy. But it didn't turn out that way. Instead I had a panic attack that night after my family stopped by for a quick visit. Justin was going to be heading to church the next day so the bishop wouldn't be alone on the stand and I would be home with the baby. All day.

The rest of the week was one long panic attack. I tried to feel differently. But every evening when Justin came home I would pass the baby to him and try to escape mentally. Justin also handled overnight without me because the sound of my own baby crying made my skin crawl. I was anxious all the time and couldn't figure out why. I looked online and realized I had many of the symptoms of postpartum anxiety. I wasn't depressed. But anxious. To add to it, I slept whenever the baby slept, like so many people advised me to do at my baby showers, and by the end of the week was suffering from insomnia at night and a vicious headache.

On Friday I decided to call m OB. She wasn't in, but an assistant quickly asked if I was suffering from the baby blues still and sent off a prescription. I should have spoken up, but I didn't. Justin brought my medicine home that afternoon and I took it. Within half an hour the side effects started taking over. It was not pretty. The mildest effect I suffered was feeling more anxious; as though I was literally trying to crawl out of my skin. I won't share the worse ones. We tried calling the doctor, but no one answered. Not even an answering machine.

The next day my in-laws came to visit and while I still felt a bit uneasy and was dealing with side-effects, I was also dealing with a vicious migraine whenever I stood. It continued until we finally got in touch with someone Sunday night and they told us to go to the ER ASAP. The ER ran tests, gave me medicine, and for the first time that weekend I was able to sleep. I still have remnants of the headache, but it is much less vicious.

On Saturday morning I spoke with two of my brothers who bolstered me with words of love and compassion. Saturday afternoon my mom came to visit and she and my mother-in-law continued. Instead of medicine I decided I would first go to the Lord and then, once I tried that, turn to medicine. I was afraid of the latter route. Sunday my mother-in-law stayed home from church with me and showed me how gentle and easy of a baby Atticus is. He is incredibly tame and sweet. Why was I so worried? But I was still worried. Yesterday morning Justin stayed home from work to let me sleep a little since the headache hadn't gone away entirely and since I was still anxious about being alone with the baby. But he eventually had to go to class since he had missed so many days. I was alone with the baby.

While feeding him I decided to try and look up an Ensign article my mom suggested from this month's Ensign. I thought I had found the one she recommended, but instead I found something even better for me to read. It's called "The Enabling Power of the Atonement" I didn't finish it. In the beginning the author repeated something my mom had said the day before, "Throw your burdens at the Lord's feet." So right there, while feeding Atticus his bottle I did that. I said a simple prayer asking Heavenly Father to help remove my fears and anxiety. I had wanted this baby for so long. Why was Satan getting in the way? Instantly I felt a weight come off of my shoulders. I began looking at my baby without fear, but with intrigue and a hint of love. I began to feel a bond with this little person who mere weeks ago was kicking around inside of me.

Later, for family home evening (which we've always been horrible at doing, but I felt like throwing out to Justin since I started feeling normal again) we read the article entirely. I realized that my largest spiritual impediment is not using the enabling power of the Atonement; of not letting the full scope of the Atonement strengthen me. I was simply relying on it to help me with my sins. The enabling power of the Atonement has saved me from my worst fear of myself. I know it was nothing I had done personally to cause my anxiety; I now know that these things are purely chemical. But it was empowering to be able to use the Atonement to help me overcome this. It was empowering to know that the Atonement could be applied to this situation, just like one of my brother's said Saturday morning, and help me overcome my trial. I'm not saying this will be the solution for everyone. There are those whose struggles are longer and harder than anything I could imagine. But for that week while I struggled and felt like I was in a hole, I tried to lean on myself and medicine only, as opposed to bringing my struggles before the Lord who could then help me know how to help myself.


Are things perfect? No. I still dread what I will find when I change Atticus's diaper. Plus I completely slept through the night and made Justin handle night duty on his own last night. But all joking aside, things are getting better. I know that the Atonement not only covers my sins, but also can enable me with power from on high when I am to weak on my own.


Also, here are some photos for those who may be interested.

Heading into the hospital the day Atticus was born

The full scope of my belly at 38weeks 3days pregnant

I forgot to rotate this. This is Justin dressed up in his surgery gear.

Ready to have a baby... Or as ready as I'll ever be.

Last moments being childless

"Oh man! Already with the prints?! I swear when I said I had been on the 'inside' I didn't mean it like that!"

Meeting the boy

Hanging out this afternoon

Who trusted me with a baby?!

Hanging out in the bouncer. One of his favorite spots in the house.

Becoming parents part 2/ Being a NICU mom

When we started telling friends that Atticus was in the NICU, a friend, I'm assuming in efforts to make a well-intended joke, said, "On the bright side, in one year, you'll be able to tell people that you are a superior mother because you had a NICU baby." It hurt and still kind of does. Like I said, I'm sure this friend meant no harm, but 11 days into this, I wish I could be a regular, average, "less superior" mother. I just want my little boy home with me. I want to stop crying when we leave the hospital each day and have to tell our son good bye.

At first the issue was that Atticus' pancreas was producing too much insulin and he was hypoglycemic. It took 4 days for them to get it regular and another 3 to have it stable enough that they didn't have to test his blood sugars daily. The only thing holding Atticus back at this point is that he does not eat. I never thought those words would be said about anyone in my family. Justin's child? Maybe, but even then, Justin eats when he's hungry. When they had Atticus hooked up to an IV they also had to put him on a feeding tube. Apparently this is common with hypoglycemic babies from mothers with gestational diabetes; they are lethargic and don't eat. In order to keep his intake to where it needed to be in order to get his blood sugars where they needed to be, they had to make sure Atticus was eating regularly. But because he was spitting up the food they gave him, they put in a feeding tube which helped since he no longer spits up. They started bottle feeding him formula since my milk production wasn't up to where it needed to be. He was very lackadaisical with his eating and would only finish part of the bottle. Because they want him to eat the full 2oz within thirty minutes, if he doesn't finish it, they put the rest through the feeding tube. It's been this way for the past few days and they've cut down the attempts of him bottle feeding from 4 of his feedings each day to 3 since he has not been able to finish any of the bottles within the allotted time.

Since Tuesday I've been going for several hours during the day while Justin is in class. Because I am hoping to breastfeed, I go before his bottle feeding at 9am in hopes that he'll latch on and try nursing. I figure if he is still learning to eat I haven't lost the opportunity to try and get him to latch, right? Besides, I abhor pumping and would love to not have to do it as much once he gets home. Over the last couple of days he has gone from crying when I try to holding it in his mouth while he fell asleep, to actually trying to nurse this morning. It was great. I just hope he does it more as time goes by. It is tempting to throw in the towel (and the pump) and switch to formula since my production is not meeting his daily requirements and it would be great to be able to sleep through the night while he's not here, but I always envisioned myself as a mom who breastfed.

Yesterday was a breakthrough day because Atticus was actually alert and showing rooting reflexes just before his feeding time. Luckily since it was Friday and Justin had no classes and hasn't returned to work yet, he was there the whole day with me and was able to enjoy Atticus's awake times. After a little while the boy would get tired and we'd hold him on our chests while he slept, but those moments of being awake and eating a little of his bottle were very rewarding for us.

Today was pretty similar to yesterday. Atticus was asleep when we got there but I unswaddled him and held him on my chest in the effort to get him comfortable there and to get him to wake up some. He did and eventually latched for about five minutes. He didn't care to swap sides so I just held him until the nurse got the formula (usually a feeding or two each day is formula since I am not yet producing enough for his needs) and Justin fed him. I'll admit, I'm intimidated for when we come home if Atticus isn't completely breastfeeding. Justin is a pro at feeding him (among his many other skills). Part of Atticus' problem is that he still spits up, so he needs to be burped and often. I am a wimp when it comes to burping my child whereas Justin knows the little tricks already. I just hope I can get decent at it so my child doesn't end up worse off when he comes home.

Towards the end of the day we were waiting for a nurse to bring us some more bottles and labels for the pumped milk we bring each day; we've gone through the supplies they'd given us when we left and then some. While we were waiting another nurse in Atticus's area was calling hospital maintenance folks to say a baby (I'm guessing the one who was born on Sunday and whose dad left with us on Sunday night) will be going home and that his parents would be staying overnight. With NICU babies, the hospital has the parents stay the night before while they're monitored in case anything goes wrong or if the parents need anything. It hurt to hear the phone call. Here was a premature baby who suffered fetal distress during delivery and he was going home before Atticus. I cried. I cry a lot these days. I blame part of it on hormones, naturally, but I know exhaustion, frustration, confusion, and a whole wide range of feelings come into play.

I just want my baby home. My mom has told me multiple times that I need to sing to Atticus since he knows my voice. But I can't. Whenever I try, I cry because it hurts. My body will not let me express joy via music when I am so sad and yearning for my little boy to come home. I tried today. After a few failed attempts at various songs we settled on "I Want to Hold Your Hand" although even then I got choked up too much and had to hum most of it. I realize we are not the worst off though.

On Monday afternoon when we came to visit Atticus we were so excited because we were possibly going to be able to hold him for the second time in his life. By the time we got there it was time for me to pump. So I headed to the lactation room with Justin and we pumped. My bladder still is overactive so once I finished I had to run out of the labor and delivery/NICU area to go use the bathroom without soap (honestly- since the Wednesday we came in to have Atticus that bathroom has not had soap- what the heck?!) . When I got back Justin was standing in the doorway and let me in (you have to be buzzed back to enter). He had our stuff packed and ready in the lactation room. "We need to go. They have to close the NICU." I was so upset we wouldn't get to hold Atticus. "Why not?" He closed the door of the room and said the baby whose bed had been next to Atticus had died. It was an extremely premature baby (he only weighed 1 lb) born to a teen-aged mom. We both cried and prayed for the baby and his family. In my heart I realized how selfish I had been and expressed gratitude to Heavenly Father that my baby was doing so well.

So no, I don't want to be a superior mom. I already know I'm not one. I just want a little boy with big, juicy, kissable cheeks to come spend the night. For the next 18 years.

Becoming parents part 1

I hope you'll forgive me. I try to romanticize writing in a journal with pen and paper. But then I get lazy and stop mid-entry. So I'm going to try here and see if I get things down. While our little boy is in the NICU I hope that this will be a way to feel a little better while we wait for him to be able to come home.

Atticus was an emergency c-section. His heart rate would randomly drop to a quarter of what it should be and over the 7 hours of monitoring it was increasing in frequency and intensity. Instead of inducing me like she planned earlier in the day, my doctor decided Atticus' heart wouldn't fare well with contractions much less labor in general, so an emergency c-section was scheduled. I was a little worried. I wanted to have a natural birth without an epidural like I had dreamed of. I wanted to feel when my baby was born. I didn't want to have scars and suffer through the healing process while taking care of a newborn. But I think Justin was more worried than I was about the c-section. We had no option though and went ahead with it. I was amazed at how calm I remained. The previous week Justin would keep asking, "Are you feeling any different?" in hopes that labor was coming on and we could meet our little boy. I never did, I simply I kept scrubbing the house and trying to prep the baby's room. Now he was coming and despite being scared, I was finally excited. The surgery was performed and it turns out Atticus' cord was coming before he was and that it was cutting things off. Labor would have definitely been bad. I still brag to myself that I have never felt real contractions or gone through labor.

Despite wanting to stay with me while I was stitched up, I pushed Justin out of the room and told him I was okay, but that he needed to go be friends with our new boy since he didn't have any other friends yet. Justin reluctantly went but said he fell in love once Atticus took his finger in his hand. A few hours later at 1am we were wheeled to my recovery room. I wanted to see the baby and feel him since I had only gotten to kiss his cheek in the OR. But the nursery never came. Finally after calling, at 3am a nurse came in to inform us that Atticus was being sent to the NICU because he was severely hypoglycemic. We wouldn't be able to see him tonight and should just get some rest. We cried as she left and eventually fell asleep wondering what everything meant. The next day Justin wheeled me to the NICU where we learned that his sugar levels we so low they were unreadable. If it stayed like this for very long there were major complications that could arise including seizures and brain damage. They would need to keep him in the NICU until things leveled and his sugars were stable. The next few days went by like a blur. I was able to walk relatively well by day 2. The lactation consultant wheeled in my breast pump and we began pumping around the clock in hopes we could get something for Atticus to help him. But it was slow progress. They had to put an IV in through his umbilical cord because the fluids were so caustic they would cause soft tissue damage if they tried it in a regular IV. Because the IV was in his cord we couldn't hold him. Few things were as painful as realizing you can't hold the baby you dreamt about for so long because it could cause damage to one of the things helping keep him safe. Finally, on Thursday night, the day after he was born, we got to hold Atticus. It was amazing. Holding him was absolute bliss. we attempted breastfeeding, but that wasn't happening. No problem; we got to hold him.

My doctor, understanding the situation with Atticus, told the hospital to let me stay as long as they could let me, which was Sunday. I didn't mind although I know I was much more mobile than they had imagined I would be. Most times throughout the night Justin would take the little amount of milk I had expressed and walk across the 2nd floor to the NICU. He'd give Atticus a kiss and walk back. A few times I would try not to wake him and do it myself, despite his protests when he'd realize what I'd done. But I hadn't felt like a mom yet; just an adult worrying about a little boy who was hooked up to a feeding tube because he couldn't eat and his sugars wouldn't stabilize. I hoped that by bringing the milk I could feel like the parent too. When we were discharged we had to wait. They were admitting another NICU baby and we couldn't go in until all was done. When we did go back it was so hard to realize that we were leaving and he would stay. The new NICU patient's dad was in the room as well. His little boy was a preemie. Although Atticus had made progress that day, it was still heart breaking to leave him. But eventually we had to. As we left because visiting hours were over, the new dad left with us. In order to get out of the labor and delivery area, the nurse's station has to let you out. But unless you ask or say thanks beforehand, they'll let you stand there for a while. I walked ahead with the new dad and we stood there for a while until Justin came up from the NICU and said, "Thank you" to the nurses. They unlocked the doors and Justin informed the new dad, "A tip I've learned... You have to say thanks beforehand or else they'll let you stand here." The new dad said thanks and we walked off. All of us leaving our babies behind.

Little did I know... The joke's on me!

In February of 2011 I had had enough. Justin was going out with the missionaries at least weekly and I felt that between school, work and life in general, we didn't get to spend enough time together. So I told him he had to cut back the time with the missionaries. The next week he was called as the ward mission leader. While he did specifically tell them that Fridays were date nights and not to ask him to go out with them then, I learned to accept the fact that we'd be hanging out with the missionaries a lot.


With the impending arrival of bébé Bush, I realized that because both of us have been in our respective callings more than a year and a half, chances were that one of us would be released since they're both a little demanding (moreso on Justin's part. I love my calling as Primary President and because of my awesome counselors, it's not demanding so much). While I was sad one or both of us would be released, I was a bit relieved because between our work schedules and Justin being in school, I knew we'd need more down time to keep our wits about us.

I knew trouble was afoot though when our good friend, Napoleon Ortiz (the stake executive secretary), called Saturday night telling Justin that the stake presidency needed to speak with Justin and to bring me with him. He also said to skip ward counsel (which is always okay with me). You see, our ward has been without a fully functioning bishopric for close to a month. Our former bishop had been transferred (he works for FEMA and everyone knew he wouldn't be here very long) and one of the counselors had been out of town the last few weeks leaving one of the other counselors to serve as the acting bishop. And my dad had said we'd be getting our new bishop within a week or two. So putting two and two together, I was a bit nervous... As I should have been.

Justin was called as the second counselor in our ward's bishopric.

This is just amusing to me. What makes it even better is that the bishop isn't even 30 yet and has the face of a teenager. Luckily the other counselor is around their dads' age, so I think he'll help keep them in line... In all seriousness, I'm not too surprised about the new bishop or the other counselor. The new bishop was our Elder's Quorum president and, while quite literally a comedian, is a stellar guy. The other counselor hasn't lived here very long, but when the preisthood was assigned to help clean up after Isaac, he was out there every weekend helping. But Justin being called was a bit surprising. Not that I don't think he's amazing. He's the best guy I know! But it was still a bit funny. Looking at this picture I can't help but laugh.

The B Bishopric and the Stake Presidency:
J. Bush, D. Brown, G. Bryant, President Garcia (my dad), President Stock, President Whipple

Plus, as my brother Brian said, "Now you get to go to High Priest socials." Yay?

While I still laugh at the idea that my 26-year-old husband is now a member of the bishopric, I am reminded of the blessing I received from my mission president when I was heading home five years ago. In the blessing he said, "You will have many opportunities to share your husband with the Lord and others as he serves in various callings. Do so with a willing and happy heart." I guess I just didn't realize what that meant. I am a bit nervous to see how things will go since the phone calls started as we left church and he still has his internship, school, and we have a baby coming soon, I simply remember that blessing and the fact that the Lord knows us individually and won't give us more than we can handle

Pregnancy Meltdowns

As most reading this blog will know, I'm not a very emotional person. I think in the past five years I can count the number of times I've cried on one hand. Pregnancy has made me cry more (at the anatomy scan, with last week's tragedy, randomly), but I haven't had a meltdown. Until yesterday.

Justin and I recently moved. It was time for us to leave my parents' place and stop mooching off of them. He works part time as an intern with a firm that will hire him once he graduates, and I work full-time as a project assistant at Tulane. While we aren't destitute, we definitely aren't rolling in money. When we were first married we really wanted to start our family. We weren't entirely sure how we'd work it out, but thought we could do it. However, after meeting with several doctors we were told, "unless you have medical intervention, you will not be getting pregnant." It was sad, but we decided to continue with school and that I'd work while Justin was in school. We'd approach the baby topic again after Justin graduated and we were stable financially (one of the many blessings of marrying an engineer is that it isn't hard for him to find a good job after school). Three years later we were quite surprised when we found out that I was pregnant- without medical intervention (since the doctor's told me I couldn't get pregnant with help, I stopped my BC about 6 months after we got married).

Originally my plan was to return to work part-time (since that would be the least I could work to get benefits and we wouldn't necessarily need government assistance), but last week the dean I work for said, "we can't switch you to part-time anymore. You'll need to stay on fullt-time." I was sad but mostly frustrated since I'm less than three months away from delivering and hadn't planned on needing day care (the plan was that between Justin, my awesome SIL Ashley and I we were going to watch bébé Bush).

I immediately got started on the daycare search but most of the good places are way too expensive for our budget and even then, they have almost year-long waiting lists. I even checked out what was available on campus and the cheapest I found (with my discount) was almost $300 more than we could afford. So yesterday Justin and I started visiting the few that are closer to our budget (although still a bit pricey). They're pretty depressing, but I don't know what else to do. On our drive home last night he said, "I don't want to put out kid in daycare. I feel like it robs us of the chance to be parents. I mean, we could see if you can quit or find another part-time job so you can spend time to take care of the baby and I can adjust my schedule so I can have time to take care of the baby." The thing was, I wish it was true. As anyone who knows me well knows, I DON'T love my job (my direct boss is a royal jerk, but has tenure so while the dean and other program directors know how he is, they can't do anything about it). But I honestly don't see anyone wanting to hire a 7 months pregnant woman. Plus, I don't see how we could make everything work. I just feel trapped. I know lots of woman have had to make this decision, but it doesn't make it any less difficult...

On a happier note, our new place is amazing. It's a townhouse we rent for less than $700/month and while it appears it was built by a giant because the cabinets are so high and the mirrors in the bathrooms are too high for me to look into, it's great and cozy. Blessings with frustrations, right?