The sun will come out...

Tomorrow.  It was tomorrow (thanks, Peck;)  It has gone back to yesterday, as of today, but tomorrow will show up again, now that we know the key...

Poor little Zia, she was so, sooo miserable.  I believe the correct word would be "inconsolable."  The crying was almost unstoppable,  short of finding just the right bounce and vigorously repeating it, amid white noise, without variation, for ridiculously long bouts.  (Hell, maybe all of the bouncing was just our way of coping and she was just tuckering herself out each time ;)  Then, once she passed out, I had to stay standing and swaying/bouncing.  If my ass hit a seat, she'd wail...  It wasn't pretty.

And then there was her poor little tummy.  She was often miserable after eating, or in the middle of eating even.  Wanting to nurse, she would try, swallow, and scream in pain.  Her constant bouts of silent spit-up seemed to burn her throat, instead of effortlessly sliding out like P's always had.  And after lying down at night for just a few hours, she could no longer stand the prone position (all that gas and burping and spit-up and misery) so we'd have to spend much of each night sitting upright in the rocker.  It sucked.

So, she was miserable, I was on the verge of a body breakdown and poor P, he was spending inordinate amounts of time brooding while the baby wailed.  Her discontent was so constant I had a terrible time getting even the pre-cooked deli stuff out of the fridge for P and I to eat during the day.  And dressing was fortunately optional, since she was too manic to leave the house anyway :)

And it was getting worse, almost no eye contact :(   Our awesome lactation consultant (the one who helped with Z's tongue issues) suggested an elimination diet after watching Z fall apart repeatedly one afternoon. I was willing to try anything.  And P's problems as a baby were definitely due to nuts, so...

The results have been nothing short of Amazing.  Seriously.  After two days we noticed a difference.  A little less intensity.  After 5 days, she was sunshine in a bottle :)  Once, she sat in my wrap and just. fell. asleep.  It was amazing.

Thursday and Friday were really good days.  P and I actually left the house!  We sat and read together.  We even played on the floor together.  Sure, she fussed and had normal newborn needs, but this seemed like cake after the past few weeks :)

Unfortunately, it seems we need to add a few things to the elimination diet, as she's going downhill, massively, this weekend.  Yesterday was touch and go, but we didnt' realize this until we were already going out of the house.  So we just flowed with it, and she was ok.  Today, after another meal of the suspect food, she is back to constant bouncing and the fun part is over :(  But, we saw what could be and are determined to get there again.  So, just turkey, pears and sweet potatoes this week for me it is...

Yesterday we went on a family outing.  It was super sweet.  We wanted to visit the downtown farmer's market.  But still aren't brave enough to strap the kid into a car seat and listen to her wail, so we went by bike where she could stay on my body.  Superman schlepped us all on the back of his Mundo.  It was super fun :)  And oh my, was it amazing to get out of the house!

Crossing a bridge into downtown, our lovely new city shrouded in fog.

We rode right past occupy Portland.  Its HUGE.

This market, actually, kicks Union Square's ass.  I was shocked.  Its the best farmer's market I've ever been too.  Evah.  P was thrilled with his food options.  I had a moment of mourning that there was nothing I could eat :)  The produce was so gorgeous and the setting is just beautiful.  Fall leaves, college buildings, beautiful park, kids in costumes, compost bins everywhere and delicious organic food.

 P is wowed by some gorgeous carrots.

P, on the back of the bike.  I sat right in front of him, with Zia asleep in the wrap.

Walking back through the park.

What a great place for a farmer's market!

Going back over the bridge - we're seriously falling for our new town:)

P noticed OMSI (our science museum) as we crossed the bridge and really wanted to stop and play.  He loved it.  Zia woke up at this point for good, so there are no more pics ;)

 It was a treat to spend time as a family again.  We've been following a divide and conquer approach the last few weeks.  Now, just gotta get some stuff out of my system and see if it helps little Z again.  I want those sweet smiles back :)

Message to the Universe

 Real Men wear babies :)

E, figured the wrap out all by his big self and took Zia on many walks Sunday to quell the screaming.

P and Z, sharing a sweet snuggle.

Dear Mastitis (and your fiendish friends, Fever and Pain): you SUCK.  And Insomnia (from said fiendish friends)?  You, too, Suck.  And Colic, my evil arch-nemesis from the past...  Was haunting my first born really not enough?  Must you possess my sweet second too?  You?  You Super Duper SUCK!  And lastly, Elimination Diet (no dairy, no wheat (gluten, really), no eggs, no soy, no corn, no nuts, no chocolate (sob), no kombucha (double sob))?  You?  You starve me suck-a-roni!!!

There.  All better.

And to my seemingly forgotten first-born:  I know, this sucks.

And to my Superman:  Without you, this would be beyond suck.  Thanks :)


...We will return shortly to our regular, optimistic broadcast...  

Its Friday? Friday updates.

Zia, surrounded...

First, thank you Superman, for telling me to sit for 30 minutes rather than make dinner.  You ROCK.  (This blog post, thanks to Superman.)

I was making an appointment for Zia this morning and had to ask the woman what day of the week it is...  When she said "Friday,"  I didn't have one of those, 'oh, yeah' moments, her answer completely surprised me.   Telling, truly ;)

Ms. Z had her little procedure this week.  Thankfully, Superman went with us.  I couldn't imagine driving to a distant quarter with a screaming newborn and was relieved to sit in back, sandwiched between my babes (neither of whom screamed :)  Funny, the ride was the only part I was really dreading, since all of our research promised us that such young babies don't have many nerve endings in the frenulum areas.  No pain, just a drop of blood.  

Ummm.  Sweet Z had just gotten down for a nap when the doctor came in.  She was fairly patient about being woken up with fingers in her face.  He agreed she was totally tongue tied and her lip frenulum was too tight too.  But no other mouth issues, which was great!  The assistant came in to hold Z's head, I chose E to hold Z's arms down and out came the scissors.  

Seriously, I question the mental state of the people that do this for a living.  I mean, super yay that they are there for babies in need, but oh. my. gawd.  I don't know how they stomach it.  Poor, tiny little unsuspecting babies!  Her shrieks killed me.  But the real tear inducer was watching droplets of blood skitter into the air as she choked on it and continued screaming. 

There were a few more snips and a bloody gauze pad shoved into her mouth and then it was over.  Kinda;)  They sent us to the next room to nurse and the poor thing just wailed for a bit.  Then she latched on... and I could instantly tell the difference!  Granted, she was sliding around due to all of the blood (and sweet Superman stood there, all serious, wiping Z and I dry, over and over, muttering that he didn't like blood on his baby's face), but her mouth was obviously more open and able.  Knowing this helped E and I, but I don't know that Zia was that impressed :)

She passed out and slept until P's curiosity woke her... too soon.  She then wailed for the rest of the evening.  So, so sad.  The next day sucked too.  She had started making serious eye contact and reeeeally smiling at us just a few days before the procedure.  The day after the snipping, no smiles, no eye contact.  For the. whole. day.  

Add to the worry that she had lost faith in us and was thoroughly traumatized the fact that we need to do mouth exercises 6-8 times a day to make sure her wounds don't reseal and then add a six year old boy who felt ignored and upset by all of the wailing and you have a pretty decent shit-storm for the day.  

But Ms. Z didn't seem as upset by the exercises as we worried, and P has 6 long years of lovin' to fall back on, and sleep is not essential.  And Dina texts me down.  And Zia was smiley again today :)))  In fact, I laughed earlier and this made her smile so big I actually felt warm fuzzies.  Fer real ;)

So, we're glad we went through with the procedure.  No worrying for the next few years that she'll have language issues from skipping it.  No threat to her milk supply.  No gap teeth in her future :)

But it hasn't been the cure-all we had hoped for...  Seems there are still some digestive issues going on for little Z, we have an appointment next Tuesday to learn more.  She still has a reeeeeally rough time getting to sleep/settling, showing a distinct preference to highly aerobic dancing and bouncing by her carrier.  Curling her while sashaying through the day was killing my back, so we are working on a peaceful solution that puts her in a wrap or sling.  (Which also means once she's asleep for her cat-naps, I can move about with P, making his life much better:)  

Zia, hilariously positioned in the wrap, sleeping.

So, what does all of this do to the sibling relationship?  The one I hoped would be a cake-walk due to the age difference (which is nice)?  The Little Man is still being understanding, but you can tell that by this week, his "understanding" is wearing just a titch thin.  He just doesn't understand why she has to cry.  So Loud.  And So Often.  (Honestly, I agree ;)  I mean, I'm feeding on demand, carrying her everywhere, doing all of the stuff that tribal cultures and their unbelievably content babies do and... no cigar....  I seriously feel like I'm sucking but not sure of why.)  

At any rate, I try to validate his annoyance.  And vocalize how I view Z's, erm, vocalizations.  So, the other day, she was crying, I was bouncing and hopping and checking her diaper etc while soothingly telling her to "tell me her story", that I was listening.  P jumped up and, as he exited the room with his hands over his ears (a rarity, he typically sticks by the noise for some strange reason) angrily said, "I don't want to hear her story!  Her stories SUCK!"  

So glad he was out of the room.  Cuz I found this heee-larious.  

So, there are annoyances that I didn't foresee.  And I worry about the noise making the boy not like the baby.  But so far so good.  After she wakes up (on no-surgery days;) she's pretty darn cute for about a half an hour.  And the Little Man either ignores her or obsessively plays with her.  He loves watching her mouth exercises.  He tells her constantly how adorable she is.  He tries to dress her.  He vigilantly makes sure she doesn't choke when I run to the loo.  In fact, the other day she woke up (heaven forbid you put her down while she is napping and steal even 5 minutes of peaceful sleep from her during the day.  I mean, if you have to work for 20 minutes to get her to sleep for 20 minutes, you just don't eff with that!) and was all happy.  So I laid her on P's rug and ran to the jon. I must admit to being slightly nervous leaving her with him.  I mean, I trust him and all, but, well, he is six.  

This is what I returned to:

He was chanting something about how he had her surrounded.  She was totally captivated, turning her head to follow him.  He was pretty pleased with himself.  I guess he was safely acting out any aggressions...

He's also Very Pleased with his front porch.  Long has he dreamed of decorating for Halloween.  Now out of NYC, he made it happen. He has dedicated many, many afternoons in the last week to this project.

And Artemisia (P caller her Artie the other day and it cracked me up!) turned one month this week.  Here's a shot of how big she is getting (almost 10 pounds!)

And one last note for the week.  P's favorite baby thing happened today.  She was bopping her head around as she nursed and I muttered something about how she'd probably be a tummy time champ.  He quickly asked what "tummy time" was and if we could do it.  So we spread a blanket and put Z on the floor.  She immediately popped up and looked all around.  She stayed there, quite happily, for a couple of minutes, holding her head high and looking around.  I was so surprised (she's still so cuddly and floppy when you hold her!) I grabbed my phone.   Someday, the second will get an actual camera shot... ;)

In the meantime, every time she wakes up, P asks if she can do tummy time.  I think he thinks she's going to just push up and start crawling ;) And I think he'll be the most excited person in the house on the day that she does!

Expectations on my manic Monday

Sleepy dreams.  Zia is a smiley baby.  I know "they" say babies don't really smile at you until six weeks, but I swear this kid already gives us gummy grins.  My mom saw her gazing at me with the sweetest smile (at only two weeks old!) and pronounced her extra special on the spot ;)  Z especially likes to smile at P, which he adores :)

Yes, its a tad nerve wracking when he holds her... but they both seem so darn happy together...

These sweet smiles made her manic tendencies over the last two weeks even more perplexing.  Just awoken and well tanked, she is calm, collected, amazingly alert and so, so sweet.  Give her a tiny bit of time though... and everything falls a.p.a.r.t.

Which brings me to my point.  You know, everyone promised me two things this pregnancy:

1.  Labor would be shorter.  (ummm, we went from 28 hours the first time to over 48 hours the second time...)

2.  This baby would be chill (compared to the the first, that required constant bouncing for any semblance of peace.)

Ummmmmmmmmmmm.  Which leads me to my life lesson.  (Again.)  The one I have repeatedly failed to truly learn: 

Fuck Expectations.  They will fuck you Every Time.

And so, as her already questionable caterwauling escalated as she hit her three week growth spurt this week, the truth descended.  Expecting anything in life (the sweet in-arms babies all of my friends have had, you know that chill in their sling, nurse to sleep...) will break. you. down.  I had planned on that baby.  Chillaxing in my wrap, popping out to poo, slowly integrating into the family for the ease of P...  And here was a baby that was requiring c.o.n.s.t.a.n.t. help finding a shred of contentment....

She wanted to nurse all. the. time. Now, I don't mean, like every two hours.  I mean at 12, 12:15,, 12:45, 12:54...  Then maybe she'd pass out an make it a whole hour.  We tried our pinky finger a few times, thinking surely she wasn't hungry, she just likes to suck!  (She was, erm, producing like a champ, so we knew there was, erm, intake.)  Hell, we even tried a binky (which she seemed highly insulted by.  Smart girl ;))

Obviously, not a lot gets accomplished when nursing with this sort of frequency.  Especially when the nursing is accompanied by wailing and arching and sputtering and choking (rather than just peaceful, sling squatting and happy nibbles.)  And then the sweet first born is running around with his ears covered.  And you're covered in milk spray and tears (everyone's tears...)  And your heart is breaking because your beautiful baby is just miserable.

But I'm slow.  And maybe stubborn.  I was going to have that simple sling baby.  I would still parent my first.  We would still go to the library.  The walk would sooth her!

Um.  NO.  (The Bangles song streamed through my mind Monday as we stood in the rain, outside the library, with the screaming infant and the upset six year old and the exhausted mother....)

By Tuesday I called it quits.  This wasn't just a growth spurt.

And so today we met with a lactation consultant (who, come to find out, is an unschooling mum!) I was hoping we had managed a bad latch and there was a brilliant fix.  Maybe she just needed to grow a tad bit to keep up with my supply or get more practiced with a strong let-down...

Turns out Ms. Z, poor thing, is tongue tied.  Top and bottom :(  (For the breastfeeding novice, this means her frenulums are too tight and she can't move her tongue (and top lip) adequately to move the milk!

So, umm,  she is actually always hungry.  And by the grace of gawd I had been responding to all of her hunger cues rather than just assuming she was full of shit, so she has been chunking up appropriately.  Granted, in very short, sad little blips.  Because her mouth gets tuckered out trying to hang on.  And she can't manage it when she gets a reeeal mouthful, so she has to stop for a break and then try again.  In a few minutes.  Which pisses her off.  And then again a few minutes later.  This makes for a tired and consistently hungry baby.  Thus, all of (our) tears ;)

So, while I'm pretty darn bummed tonight that she is going to have to be clipped next week (cut on my perfect new baby!  eeeeek!) I am over the moon excited to let her manic phase morph into the more smiley stuff her (momentarily) content self has hinted at.  And I'd be lying if I didn't mention being a bit psyched for a solid(er) chunk of sleep ;)  Hers, and mine :)

All set to venture out for a walk.  (A total FAIL, by the way.  But come next week after her procedure...:)

Phoenix has been beyond, well, just beyond through all of this.  As I bounced my desperate daughter on the birthing ball to calm her yesterday, he astutely noticed the floor had gathered more items than a floor really requires.  And he set to picking them up.  And actually putting them away.  Unrequested.  He made us pancakes for breakfast the other morning when Zia couldn't sleep (or stop whimpering.)  He sits on the couch, patiently waiting for me to read again after yet another spot of nursing.  He fetches me anything, anytime I need it.  And though he repeatedly says he hates the crying, he constantly coos at his sister, telling her she is precious, adorable, loved.  I am filled with thanks, everyday, for his sweet heart.  And filled with surprise.  His expanded independence and expanding level of acceptance wasn't what I expected when we got pregnant.

But there's that expectations thing again ;)  

As in, I expected labor to be much faster (and thereby easier;) this time.  I also expected that I would be, gawd forbid it happen again, unable to handle what I went through the first time.  Too old.  Too out of shape :)  And yet, this labor, 20 hours longer, with a flip-sided baby and blood loss, was much easier.  As soon as I saw things weren't going as expected, I set aside those damn expectations and just rode the ride.  At home, with Superman.  I will always look back on that birth as beautiful. 

I also expected this parenting bit to be hard.  Real hard.  Because it was so hard on E and I the first time.  But I'm finding that expectation to be shit too (as most of them are...)  It was so hard the first time because we weren't parents.  We were partying, playing, free-wheeling non-parents.  And the transition from that to parents was tough.  Reeeeal tough.  

But now, we're already parents.  We have absolutely NO expectations of warm meals or long showers.  Privacy or free time.  Uninterrupted sleep or unsoiled clothing.  This transition, from three to four, has been surprisingly peaceful, despite the screaming, tongue tied newborn.  In fact, the last three weeks have been beautiful.  Hard, sure, trying, sure, but unexpectedly beautiful.

So, while I expected to struggle with the lack of freedom etc, and for P to struggle to accept a sibling, that hasn't been what is true.  I didn't expect to struggle nursing, or carrying my baby (she reeeeally hasn't taken to wraps or slings (oh my back!), unlike her brother, who wouldn't get out of one for the first three years...), and yet, that is where we are.   Expectations, they'll make a fool of me, every time.       

Now, I just have to fight one big expectation.  That sweet Z's procedure will produce that peaceful baby I've always dreamed of parenting.  While the lactation consultant promises a definite improvement post procedure, I don't want to get my wishes all up in a wad.  But, true to my life thus far, I'm not having a lot of success setting this one aside... ;) 

And the Saint departs...

So, our last day with the Saint's help was three days ago.  Our first day flying solo (and E back to work full-time) felt very successful.  I was dressed.  The children were fed.  The tears were managed.  The second day felt like failure incarnate.  I was not dressed.  Teeth were not brushed.  Each meal was abandoned amongst tears (I'm not saying who's...)  Today, well, we're only half way there, but we are all dressed, various foods have been eaten and there is even a calm quiet as P listens to a story and plays making melting wax sculptures and the baby naps.  So I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it feels wildly successful already :)

The Little Man has been a superchamp.  Though the pooping still bothers him, and the crying brings on dramatic ear covering followed by his own wails of "too loud!! too loud!!!!", these are his only hiccups.  He has expressed dismay at having a sister that takes up attention.  He has also expressed extreme love and happiness at having "this precious little sister."  Seems about status quo for a sibling relationship so far ;)  But as far as "sons" go, he brings tears to my eyes with his fabulousness.  As E fed us a real meal last night for dinner after all of the mayhem, P looked at me smiling and talking and said "I'm glad you're feeling better, Mama."  Superman is good to me (ok, amazing;), yes indeed, but I have never had anyone as dedicated to me as this Little Man.  He is so supportive its heart-wrenching.  (Three times yesterday he came to me and asked, "What can I do for you, Mama?  Do you need anything?") I only hope he's not swallowing too much of his own discomfort trying to look out for mine during these early days...

Zia is trying to settle in.  She's not awake for hours at night anymore.  Unless she super-poops and then is up after her diaper change ;)  But she's having some nursing/sleeping trouble during the day that keeps us on our toes whenever she wakes.  Which, with an exuberant 6 year old in the house, is fairly frequently ;)  But we'll figure it out, she's so brand new...

Some quick phone pic updates:

We are officially Portlanders now... we own a bike!  The boys run our errands on it and take it down to the river for outings.  P rides on the bench behind E (apparently, occasionally hopping off, mid stride - eek! - and then running and hopping back on - double eek!) It rocks and they are in love.  

Our last evening with the Saint, I realized I hadn't caught a single shot of her with the kids.  I still haven't taken a real photo of Zia... poor little second born ;)  P's life was documented from the moment he exploded onto the scene...

My beautiful mother and her newest grandbaby...

My good-sport of a mother and her very ornery grandson...

Trying to respect my mom's privacy, she stays out of the blog limelight, but seriously, she Saved our Sanity this past month.  And its a testament to her fabulous relationship with Phoenix that it all went so swimmingly.  P hadn't spent but one night away from us in his whole life and he spent almost every night in the last three weeks at Grams' home away from home here in Portland.  This allowed for nighttime shrieking and diaper changes without adversely affecting the six year old.  It allowed for amazing baby bonding time, without the six year old feeling ignored.  It allowed for Mama healing time, without the immense guilt that would have ensued.  It allowed for home-cooked meals, full of iron and nutrients, naps, and laughs.  And through it all, the Little Man had a Blast.  I truly believe the Saint's presence singly handedly made this transition from three to four the success it has been thus far....  Were she to want to move to, say, Portland, well, :)

Clowning around - do you see the child's happiness?!?

And a sweet E and Z snuggle.  The man is crazy in love :)

A very tired baby, who is absolutely, positively, completely and undeniably Addicted To Sucking.  I mean, babies like to suck, yah. But she is over the top.  She came out with little spots on both of her wrists where she had sucked and sucked in the womb.  And she hasn't stopped since.  Here, she tries to fit Both hands into her wee, sleepy mouth....