Cause you know, it ain't real til you talk about poop

After two weeks, we see so many changes in our little girl. She's already up to over 8 lbs for heaven's sake! The public health nurse and the doctor are very pleased with her development; apparently her hips, skin, eyes, tone, control and various other aspects of her growth are all in perfect order. The doctor said to come back for her 2-month innoculations or if perchance something comes up in the meantime. Basically, all is good.

All is pretty good for me too. My uterus has shrunk down to where it ought to be again, my blood pressure is superb, I've lost 25 lbs (based on my weight at my 39 week checkup) and the muscles in my lower abdomen are knitted back together exactly as they should be. However, I'm not yet ready to go back to the gym according to the doc; the muscles higher up aren't yet knitted back together so I still need to take it easy. One day at a time -- much like during the pregnancy -- and I'll get there. I'll be happy to get back to the gym too! My neighbours graciously added a child care component to my gym membership as a gift to us so I'll be able to take advantage of that when the time comes. That'll be marvelous! I'm so very grateful.


Other than that, things in our house are, well, moving along. It's been difficult at times, that's for sure. And true to form for many babies, most of our difficulties are revolving around feeding, digestion (or lack thereof!) and elimination (and lack thereof!). And thus, the poop talk. Cause you know, parents gotta talk about poop. And while it's my first time as a parent, hubby's seen much of this before!


Feeding -- Petite refuses to nurse directly from the source. She is absolutely ADAMANT about that. She purses her lips, screams blue murder and pushes my breast away at each opportunity. I still give her exposure but I'm not forcing her. Sometimes after she's fed, she's content to just hang out at the breast and lie there, skin to skin, dozing quietly in my arms. And that's okay. But she will not, absolutely not feed from the breast. It just isn't happening. Added to that, I am not producing enough for her to have breastmilk exclusively. (Thanks PCOS and hypothyroidism!) They say to judge your milk production about 10 days post partum. And frankly, it isn't near where it needs to be. So my doctor prescribed the domperidone that I requested and hopefully in a couple of days, I'll see a difference. For the moment, I'm pumping as much as I can and Petite is drinking down whatever I can give her, and she's just loving it. We're still supplementing because otherwise, she simply wouldn't get enough to eat.


Digestion -- Petite is obviously digesting the breastmilk much easier than the formula. And that's good. What is bad is that she still has to have formula at all... because it's tearing up her little tummy. We've noticed that when she has breastmilk, she is much more content, sleeps better and has a lot less gas to deal with than when she is having formula. With formula, her little legs draw up frequently, she cries and alternates flexing and stretching her legs and body, trying to work the gas out. She doesn't burp well at all (much like my sister used to do apparently) and you can hear the gurgling in her tummy as she wails in pain. It's absolutely heartbreaking. However, according to the nurses and doctor, it's too early to change formula for her to see if another one would make any sort of a difference. I'm tempted to give it another few days with the current formula to see if anything changes, but then to try another one that we have, just to see if there's a difference. Additionally, I do have gripe water and although the doctor said there's nothing to suggest that it can actually help and they don't recommend it, I'm awfully tempted to see if it'll relieve her pain.


Elimination -- And accordingly, with the breastmilk, Petite has a much easier time with peeing and pooping. Honestly, with the formula, she sometimes goes for 36 or 40 hours without a poop and boy, you can imagine the poo-splosion when it finally comes! And when it does come and she's clean and happy again, she sleeps amazingly well and is happy and content. But when she is gassy and uncomfortable, she wails like a banshee. High pitched screeching, enough to tear your heart out. It's so intense that if it were an adult crying that way, you'd be completely hoarse. It's painful to listen to and all we can do is try to help her get the gas out of her system.


So we're doing the best we can to keep her fed (rule number one of course) and give her as much breastmilk as I can, and then to help her process the formula that she is given. We're working on it. I'm not giving up yet. I am still hoping to get her latched but it's going to be a helluva job. We tried tube feeds at the breast and tube feeds at the finger. We tried getting her to latch after she's had a bit of breastmilk and satiated the immediate need of hunger. We tried a nipple shield (she wasn't having ANY of that!), we tried different positions, we tried all kinds of things. No avail.


And then I have these special moments. Those moments when I get to gaze on her happy face. When I stare into her blue eyes staring up at mine. I feel her tiny fingers curled around my own finger. I hold her close and soothe her (according to my mom, she is most content in my arms than anyone else's), rocking her back and forth. I kiss her darling little cheeks and breathe in her new baby scent. And it is in these special moments that I get to smile and shed a tear of absolute joy. For I recognize how very blessed I am to hold Petite in my arms and I give thanks for these precious moments. Each and every one.