Tyger, tyger, burning bright....stick with mommy and I'll be alright.

Caveat - I read. A lot. This doesn't come as a surprise to anyone who knows me. Being a parent and a teacher, one of things I am reading the most about these days is parenting/teaching (there are many, many instances in both of my jobs where the two are indistinguishable from one another). Some of my most recent selections: Mayim Bialik's blog for TODAY, Raise Your Kids Without Raising Your Voice, Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys, as well as many articles posted on PhD in Parenting and KellyMom.com. I also watched Babies yesterday, which was WONDERFUL. Some favourite reads from Isabel's babyhood are No Cry Sleep Solution, Happiest Baby on the Block and nearly anything by Dr. Sears.
When it comes to parenting, I've rarely said "I will never..." because that is often just an opportunity for failure. I've always had a vague idea of what I thought I wanted to do and be when it came to parenting though. Isabel was a handful because she is very sensitive and cautious and, in infancy, that was reflected in her fear of sleeping alone and her VERY strong desire to be held all the time. I had various people tell me that I was spoiling her and not doing her any favours. I was told that I needed to let her cry-it-out (the few times we tried it, when at my wits end, we ended up cleaning up vomit and - not fun for us and not fair to her, as far as I am concerned). I was told she'd NEVER sleep on her own, along with other such high quality advice.
It was at this time that I was incredibly thankful for my love of reading. I plowed through many books that came highly recommended by friend and foe alike. I held firmly to things that made sense, while still trying things that didn't necessarily. The thread through much of my reading that has resonated with me time and time again though is that babies follow their instinct and we, as a 21st century, "logical" society, find this inconvenient and frustrating. Oft times, this leads to extreme, sink-or-swim type measures, like crying it out.
How many courses have you taken where the teacher starts the course with the exam, giving you little assistance or insight into what is expected of you (and you are unable to deduce the expectations yourself)? What's more, you come back the next day and the exam is administered again. Next day? Same thing. And so on, until through trial and error, and exhaustion, you finally succeed. How much do you suppose you would learn from this experience? This is kind of how I see CIO (keeping in mind, I have tried it many times myself with both children with absolutely no success - possibly in part because I subscribe to Einstein's theory that "insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results"). I think that the frequency with which children who CIO in order to learn to fall asleep on their own regress supports my theory that there is little learning that happens with CIO.
When we learned to recognize and value the instinctive nature of our babies, life was easier for everyone. Babies don't know that they are being born into 21st century Canada. For all they know, they have entered 2nd century Asia in a forest infested with Saber-tooth Tigers. Would YOU sleep away from your tribe if there were a chance of being eaten by a tiger? Would YOU be okay with your tribe wandering away, leaving you alone in this same, potentially dangerous place (while they go make supper in the next hut, for instance)? Go camping in a place where there's a bear warning and let me know how you do ;) (I may use this analogy a little too regularly as, when an issue like this comes up in our house, I can just say the words "sabertooth tiger" and my husband knows what I mean).
In all seriousness though, babies have ONLY their instincts to go on. They have no reason or logic or life experience with which to dampen their fears. And until they can run at about 1 1/2 or 2 years old, they have no ability to act on their "fight or flight" instinct, which leaves them only one option: stick close to those who CAN do these things. What does this mean? Well, for us, it meant co-sleeping, baby-wearing, an untidy house, a little less time on our own (though, over the course of a lifetime, a drop in the bucket) and very happy and healthy babies who cried less and still learned to walk, talk and sleep on their own (or are at least starting, in the case of Orin).
The more I read and observe and experience with my own babies, the more I realise that a lot of the things that we were told we "had" to do in order to raise "well-adjusted" children, was mostly stuff people did to make their own lives easier. I am not saying this is wrong and I am a strong advocate for balance because without it, everyone will be unhappy, but I found a lot of success when we approached scenarios like sleeping and potty-training as teaching. This meant taking into account the readiness of the child, the lessons that needed to be taught in order for the skill to be mastered and that it would likely take time (just as we wouldn't expect a teenager to be able to perform the part of Hamlet after only three days, why would we expect a toddler to be able to use the potty in that amount of time?). Once again, my Education degree to the rescue ;)

Apologies to all my Literary-type friends who are offended by my butchering of Blake. Heh.

A 3-year old with a concept of personal space...who'd have thunk it?

A little anecdote from the catalogue that Isabel seems to be producing lately.

We were standing in line, waiting to sign her out of preschool on Tuesday. We were chatting with another mom and her daughter, my friend Shannon and her son and one of the teachers. The other little girl (M) has a crush on my friend's son (N). She asked her mom if she could hug him and her mom said that she could, after they'd signed out and she did. Then she approached Isabel for a hug. Izzy was talking to her teacher and standing kind of with her back to M. Isabel turned to speak to me and found herself about an inch from M, who had her arms splayed for a hug. Izzy jumped a little because she was surprised and immediately put her hands up and stepped back in order to reclaim her personal space. I didn't really expect this, mostly because no kids this age seem to have a concept yet of personal space. Isabel, for instance, spent the entire holiday climbing all over her grandpa, gramma and aunts, with absolutely no acknowledgment of their space, even after having been spoken to about it.
After Isabel assessed the situation, she approached M (who had kind of wandered back toward her mom) for a hug in a more respectful manner than I would have expected too (walked over, spread her arms and waited for M to come to her). Maybe she is getting the message very. very. slowly.

How my Education degree helped my parenting

I have had a few experiences lately, with my kids changing moment to moment it seems, that have hit home the importance of readiness when it comes to milestones and expectations.
I first learned about readiness in university. I learned about it within the context of teaching students - are they ready for the skills and information you are imparting to them? It made a great deal of sense to me within that context, but it never really dawned on me that it would be integral to parenting my babies and, subsequently, toddlers and preschoolers.
Isabel gave us a primer in readiness right out of the starting gate. She was, and still is, very sensitive and cautious. This meant that, as an infant, she wanted to be attached to someone (and preferably me) 24/7. We used our baby carrier more than the crib in the first year because she was worn the better part of the day and we co-slept. She was just NOT READY to sleep on her own at that time. I could go into the gory details of how she told us this, but I will save that for another post about sleep-deprivation and colic.
Gradually, starting around 6-months, she began to nap on her own more regularly. She was still in our bed, but given her firm resistance to mobility, her falling out wasn't an issue for quite some time yet.
By 10-months old, she was sleeping through the night in her crib, which was still attached to our bed and had naps in her bassinet in her room. We moved the crib into her room not long after this point and she's been fine since, depsite all the warnings that she'd be sleeping our bed through high school if we allowed her to sleep with us as an infant (is that not the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard, but I can't tell you how many people told us we were "starting bad habits" in a 2-month old).
Fast forward to Orin, this guy was a cuddler. The NICU nurses worried that they'd created a cuddler, but he was like that from the beginning. He was happier in someone's arms or next to a warm body. I'd seen this before, so it didn't faze me. I wasn't allowed to co-sleep in the hospital, but, given that he slept half the night in the arms of a nurse, I figured that once I got him home, he may need it for the transition.
Night one, I tried to lay down with him to nurse, figuring I'd get some shut-eye while he got some food. He was having none of that! He hollered and thrashed until I sat up and cradled him. When he was finished eating, I didn't want him to cry and wake Isabel if I put him in his crib, so I laid us both down for a snuggle and a snooze. No Sir! More wailing and thrashing until I put him in his crib, at which point he turned his head to the side and fell asleep.
Apparently, some higher power either thought I needed the lesson in readiness again or thought I got it well enough the first time that they figured they could safely throw me a curve ball. Whatever the reason, I got a kid with a whole different readiness level when it came to sleep.
My most recent lesson in readiness came this morning. If you don't want to read about baby poop (nothing gory, I promise), stop reading now.
Orin has been struggling with solid food poop. He cries and makes a big fuss about the whole thing. More troubling and messy is the fact that he has only been able/willing to poop a little bit in his diaper. We then think he is finished and start changing him, only to have him finish pooping in an open diaper, on the change table or, and this is my favourite one, into a towel after bath. Not fun.
In thinking about this, I wondered if he had reached the point where he didn't like poop on him. My understanding is that this is what fuels lots of kids in potty-training. I also suspect that the increased bulk of his diapers is playing a part in his discomfort while pooping in them. Imagine the average kid's diaper after sleeping in it all night - Orin's is like that after only 2 hours. Whatever his motivation, I decided that the next time he made a big show of pooping, I'd plunk him on the potty to see if this made things a little easier.
This morning, the opportunity presented itself and I went for it. Lo and behold, the boy pooped on the potty. Now, there was still a little drama, but there are tears no matter what, so it may just be part and parcel to his getting used to a non-liquid diet. Most importantly, this was tidier and faster than the previous incidents. If he's ready, I am too - bring on poop potty training. If it is a fluke, that's ok too, though I should note that it only seems fair that he should poop train early, given that my understanding is it will take about four years to pee train him. *lol*

Reflection

I have been thinking a lot lately about 2010 and the wild ride it has been. I have been thinking about how it has been both wonderful and terrible. I have been thinking about how lucky we are and how grateful I am to so many. I want to reflect on this a little here as the final hours of 2010 tick away.
Our families have been invaluable over the course of this journey. When we needed them, they jumped in and did what was asked without question. Our mothers took over our household while I was in the hospital - my mother-in-law was here for nearly six weeks. They dropped their own lives to help us with ours and things would have been absolute chaos without that.
Our friends, both near and far, have offered help whenever possible and have understood when I didn't have the time, energy or, in the case of the early days, wherewithal to be a good friend myself. I am sorry for my seeming laziness when it comes to our friendships and I promise that, as things calm down (which they already are) and I start getting more sleep (not really on the horizon yet), I will rekindle our relationships.
My babies have been so incredibly tolerant. I have not been the parent I want to be in recent months. This is changing on a daily basis, but I appreciate that the little people in my life are understanding and patient.
The hospital staff, the NICU nurses and our doctors (both on-site and at the IWK) have been SO supportive. I have tried dozens of times to write a letter, expressing my gratitude, but I can never find the right words. I am aware that my living in the NICU was unorthodox and I imagine that it was not ideal for the nurses who work there. They went out of their way to not only get my son healthy, but also to keep me well-fed, well-rested (as can be expected) and emotionally-well. Their dedication to us and to all of the families who passed through their sanctuary was inspiring and we will never forget it. Everyone else, from the doctors to the toll-booth attendants (who never commented on my tears and made a point of making me laugh whenever possible) made an impact on me.
My husband is second to none. Relationships have been strained to the point of breaking by lesser stressors than we've experienced and somehow, we are still here. I have seen sides of him that I didn't even know existed over the course of the past year. He has done his best to calm me when I was pulling my own hair out over Orin's health, my own lack of sleep, Isabel's behaviour or the state of the house. He has taken on huge responsibility in our household due to my simply being unable to manage as much as I once could. He has taken on the challenges we've faced with strength and grace and he has helped me to do the same. I am eternally grateful to have such a teammate in parenting and partner in life.

Santa Claus on the Brain

I'll be honest, I've been thinking a lot about a man other than my husband lately. A man who finds me funny (or at the very least, he belly laughs at nearly everything), has good taste in colours (red and green are my second favourite colours) and has a sweet tooth nearly as large as mine - as evidenced by all the cookies he eats over the course of Christmas Eve.
Yes, I am talking about Santa. Isabel is at the age where she is really starting to "get" Christmas and Santa and is developing that sense of wonder that encapsulates childhood as we all remember it. She is not keen to sit on the knee of a stranger - no matter how jovial or how many treats he is willing to hand over. But she understands that a magical man will be coming on Christmas Eve while she is sleeping and will be leaving us all gifts. She knows about Santa's reindeer and his elves. She knows that he likes cookies and that his deer like carrots. She's got the gist of it. As a result, we've decided to go whole hog with the Santa gig this year. We have seen Santa at the mall. We've written him and received a letter back. We've received a video email from him. We will be following him via NORAD on Christmas Eve and we will be leaving the requisite treats by the tree before going to bed.
After the children have gone to bed, the real magic will happen. Isabel has asked for such simple gifts - a pair of pyjama pants because the ones she loves are too small and an electric toothbrush (which she calls a "big toothbrush") because hers broke. She will be getting both of these items and I've put the bug in her ear that she might like a Jessie costume so that the chest of costumes will be absolutely amazing in her mind. We will be leaving a trail of sparkles throughout the house and yard where Santa will have walked. We are making sled tracks in the snow in the front yard and her stocking will be moved from the spot it is hanging on the bookshelf to her doorknob. I've no doubt that this will 100% solidify in her mind that Santa is indeed real and did, in fact, visit our home. My hope is that it will ignite a spark in her imagination so strong that it will take years of non-believers to squelch it.
Why, then, do I still have Santa on the brain, you ask? Because I have begun noticing that around every corner there are people either actively or inadvertently doing things to foil my plan. Why, in heavens name, do companies feel the need to allude or flat out state Santa's being a myth in their advertisements? Why do shows, aimed at children, talk about Santa in such a grown up way (the fact that he is the spirit of giving in all of us, for example)? And why do parents who choose not to practice "Santa" not also teach their children tact and respect for the beliefs of others, thus keeping them from unceremoniously taking away a beautiful part of childhood that other parents have created for their children?
This blog post actually angered me with its condescending tone and disrespect for the innocence and wonder of childhood. He makes a lot of assumptions too (like the emotions he attributes to every child who learns the truth about Santa - smugness and superiority) and sweeping generalizations never sit well with me. He lost me entirely though when he scoffed so entirely at "invocations of magic or mystery." Yet another conceited, middle-aged man who thinks that because he cannot sense it, it obviously isn't real and is therefore worthless. I think this, in a nutshell, is why I can never identify as an atheist. While I don't believe in anything in particular, I certainly can't say that I believe in nothingness either. I can't say that his theories are all bad because I do appreciate the value in teaching children problem solving skills and honing their questioning by turning their questions about Santa Claus back on them, but to say that belief in Santa is just evidence as to "how completely we all can snow ourselves if the enticements are attractive enough" suggests to me that he and I see Santa VERY differently. With that in mind, I am going to close the tab containing this man's blog and tell you about my Santa.
I was a full-on believer in Santa until the ripe old age of 8, if I had to estimate. It was around then that I either started to question myself or could no longer ignore the signs around me that suggested there may be more to the story.
For lack of a better description, I stored away Santa-related information until I was about 10, gradually realising that there may not have been a dude in a red suit sliding down my chimney, but still not willing to let go of the magic yet. Unfortunately, Santa as I knew him ceased to exist rather suddenly around this time and it was entirely of my own doing. (Mom: Turn away now if you don't want to learn that I was, in fact, not perfect ;) )
All of my peers snooped and bragged about their finds. They had for a couple of years at this point, but I had steadfastly refused, partially because I didn't want to get into trouble, partially because I didn't want to ruin surprises and partially because I was afraid of what I might discover. Well, in a moment of weakness, I rummaged lightly in my mother's closet, making a half-hearted attempt at snooping, sure she had hidden things well. With a light tossing of some clothes, I found a Wheel of Fortune board game. I was IMMEDIATELY remorseful and regretful and disappointed in myself. I covered it back up and bolted. For the weeks leading up to Christmas, I prayed to whatever deity would listen that the game not be from Santa, but it was not meant to be. On Christmas morning, the game was labeled from Santa and the whole thing was shattered. You may think that I would be angry at my parents or feel betrayed, but mostly I was just disappointed in myself. I had ruined Santa for myself.
The next Christmas, I held my breath for what was sure to be the worst Christmas possible - a Santa-less Christmas. To my surprise though, the disappearance of Santa didn't ruin Christmas at all. As a matter of fact, Santa was still there, in my heart. He was made up of all of the things I loved about Christmas - the tree, the music, the baking, the family - the magic. This new Santa warmed my heart just as much as the old Santa had, so it was easy to keep believing for the sake of my little sister and my family and even myself.
Since then, Santa has grown to include the joy of giving and the compassion and goodwill toward others that come with maturity. There is a little bit of Santa in all of us. I am hoping that we, as a society, don't forget, or heaven forbid, become scornful or dismissive of it.

"Becoming a mom made me a better person."

This is something that lots of people say. Lately, I have been reflecting on just how true that is for me.
Isabel made me a better person in the traditional ways - I became more patient, my understanding and compassion increased, my appreciation for the little things and that special view of the world that only children have was rekindled. I was bettered simply by becoming a parent.
Orin bettered me because I became *his* parent. Firstly, I am better at taking help from others. This is something I really struggled with - I was independent to a fault. I had no choice but to take help from our parents in the form of childcare and from various friends in the form of visits and general support. Most notable though was the help from the nurses at the NICU, the willingness to allow me into their space to care for my own child in the way I wanted. I know that my staying there long-term and being so involved in Orin's care and the nurses being so involved taking care of me was unorthodox. I don't think they will ever know just how much I appreciated their allowing this to happen. I am sure that, not only our short-term family dynamic, but also the long-term one benefited from my closeness with Orin as a newborn.
The other major change to me as a person is the increase in confidence. I have always had strong beliefs and, as a rule, would voice them when I thought it appropriate or important. However, there were still people with whom I "didn't want to argue" or with whom I felt less confident in my opinions (people I felt were smarter than me). My experience with Orin has reignited my confidence in my own opinions and beliefs and intelligence. I am a large factor in Orin's being as healthy and happy as he is. I made major decisions on his behalf, sometimes with less support than I should have had, and not only has he continued at the status quo, but he has thrived and surpassed expectations. I consider that a notch in my belt.

The quest for lower-sodium foods

It is not a mystery that the dependency of North Americans on sodium for flavouring has gotten way out of hand. You can find lots of low-sodium versions of products that people know to have high levels of sodium (i.e. soy sauce, condensed soup). The problem comes in the form of foods that aren't known to have high levels of sodium, but are sneaking it in there all the same and the items which have dramatically varied levels of sodium, depending upon the brand. My trips to the grocery store are entirely different than they were about 5-years ago and even differ from what they were a year ago. I spend half my trip reading labels and what I have discovered is shocking.
In the deli department, I was looking at cheese. It is "common knowledge" that cheese is high in sodium (my husband has a clip of Mike Rowe, of Dirty Jobs fame, sprinkling a huge quantity of salt into a vat in which he was making cheese). My comparison revealed that the sodium content in cheese (I looked at feta, cheddar and gouda) can range between 140mg and 650mg per 30g serving. One might assume that the lower number is a "low-sodium" product. Not so. Baby Bel Gouda rounds (the ones wrapped in the red wax) have 135mg/20g serving. The feta was where I found the most variation - 290mg/30g serving and 650mg/30g serving.
On to the bakery where bread truly boggled my mind. I have never tasted a "salty" piece of bread and yet many of the commercially produced loaves of bread had more sodium that one of the pieces of cheese listed above. We buy whole wheat bread, which, ironic as it sounds, has higher sodium content on average than white bread. The "low-sodium", "healthy" bread contained 165mg of sodium/slice (note that this more than one whole Baby Bel). The bread we used to buy all the time has 450mg/slice!! I was blown away. How had I not noticed this. How had I been feeding my daughter 900mg of sodium (for a child her age, nearly 100% of her recommend daily sodium intake!) at one meal? And that doesn't even include the sandwich filling.
From here, we move to the cereal aisle. I spent a lot of time in this aisle because Orin's favourite food is Cheerios. He would eat an entire bowlful if given the opportunity. I was hoping to find something with no sodium at all (I mean, who has ever had salty cereal, so it must be possible, right?) or at least something lower in sodium than the 210mg/cup in Cheerios. Much to my surprise, this was one of the better options overall with regard to both sodium and sugar content - it beat out both the store brand and the "organic" brand for lower sodium. The moment you could have knocked me over with a feather though was when I read the Shreddies box. The summary - you would be better off eating frosted Mini-Wheats than Shreddies! I am sure you are surprised - I can tell you that I was. Take a look:

In a larger serving size, Mini-Wheats (on the right) has 10 more calories, the same amount of fat and a smigeon more carbs (made up in the extra 2g of sugar, I suspect). The sodium is where the rubber hits the road for us, of course, and the difference blew me away - Shreddies: 310mg and Mini-Wheats: 0mg. Shreddies has the most sodium by far than anything else in our cupboard (6 different types of cereal). When you consider the fact that I put brown sugar on Shreddies when I eat them, I am sure that makes up the difference in the carbs, meaning that it is likely better for me to consume Mini-Wheats at brekkie than Shreddies. I would never have guessed that. The more you know...

"...a society in which there will be no roles other than those chosen or those earned..."

"That's for boys." These three words have created a lump in throat and a fire in my heart. Why, you ask? Because they came from my 3-year old daughter's mouth with regard to toy dinosaurs. Still seems pretty benign, right? Not to me. To me, it represents a huge problem with the beliefs with which we are allowing our daughters to grow up. It represents something I have and will continue to fight tooth and nail against because my daughter deserves better. Allow me to explain.
Isabel loved her dinosaur flashlight and to talk about dinosaurs (even though she also claimed they were scaring her as she fell asleep in her dark room). On her Thanksgiving project from school was written "I am thankful for dinosaurs." She seemed to really enjoy playing with the dinosaurs at her school. The few times we've watched Dinosaur Train, she was enthralled by it and talked endlessly about it for days afterward. So for Isabel to tell me, "I no like dinosaurs. That's for boys." breaks my heart. When I asked Isabel why she thought that, she told me that one of the little girls at her preschool told her that she wouldn't play with the dinosaurs with Isabel because dinosaurs are for boys. This little girl didn't just come up with that rule, so she must have heard it somewhere. Not surprising since there are no shortage of widely perpetuated, unfounded and pigeon-holing gender-biased rules out there. I've described just a few below.
Purple - it's (not) just for girls anymore: Orin has a hand-me-down generic fleece sleeper that is various shades of purple and adorned with snowmen. I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "Look honey, the baby's wearing purple so you can tell she's a girl." Not to mention today, a mom flat out told her daughter that the reason one of the boys wasn't wearing purple today (that was the colour of the day) was because "purple is more of a girl colour." Seriously? WTF? Is it not enough that we've made camps of pink and blue, but now we are segregating purple too?
99 Princesses in Pink on the Floor, 99 Princesses in Pink...: At the school's Halloween party, in a class containing 9 girls, all but 2 were princesses (except one who was a "witch princess..."). Isabel was a dragon (see the photos of Halloween to see our AWESOME family costume) and another little girl was a cowgirl (she loves Jessie too, as it turns out). Now, I don't care what other people do with their kids, but my problem came in that when photos were taken, the two odd-girls-out were grouped with the boys and the "princesses" all had their photo taken together. Talk about setting the kids up to see what those two girls SHOULD have dressed as in order to be "girls."
"I'm sorry ma'am...we no longer carry the original red Etch-a-Sketch because we felt it was outdated and too gender neutral.": Alright, you got me. The Toys R Us employee didn't actually say that, but the gist of the statement is accurate. When I went looking for a regular ol' Etch-a-Sketch, all I could find was the pink and blue versions and the mini-version. There wasn't even a home for the original red one. When I asked the employee if they had it somewhere in the store, he said that they hadn't had it in the store in quite a while, "but here's a pink one for her" (pointing at Orin in his purple sleeper *palmface*).
I could go on, but long story short, I feel strongly that we are doing our children (boys and girls, alike) a disservice by sending and perpetuating these messages. Today, it is just nonsense about colours and Halloween costumes, but I worry that tomorrow, it will mean that Isabel will choose to be a teacher (if you know me, you know I have nothing against teachers ;), but fully admit that it is a role typically thought of as female) instead of a paleontologist because that is what she thinks/thought was expected of her. I worry my son will choose hockey instead of ballet because "dance is for girls" and most of all, I worry that my kids will somehow come to feel inadequate or weird because they don't fit the norm. Our kids deserve better.

An update...

Lately, it has just been a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. We have been up to our ears in stuff, but it is nice to feel like we are doing things.
Isabel has started both swimming lessons and preschool and *loves* both.
She has a ball at swimming and while she isn't the best at staying focused when not receiving direct instruction (the first day, she got up and headed toward the water slide, telling the instructor "I be right back." when she was called back to the group), she is doing so incredibly well. Little fish in the making.
Preschool is also going well. She comes home with elaborate stories every morning (she attends Tuesday and Thursday mornings). I knew this would be a great place for her - she needs more stimulation and challenge that I can offer right now with Orin being a little high maintenance and she gets it here.
This week, she will be starting tap class. She is ridiculously excited about this and, to be honest, so am I. I am sure she will enjoy herself and be cute as a button doing it.
Orin is your typical, gregarious, energetic 7-month old. He has cracked four teeth total, is sitting unassisted and is into EVERYTHING that he can see. He also attracts a great deal of attention when we are out. I tease him about his "adoring public." Seriously though, people are always stopping to talk to and coo over him. We went to the mall on Monday and, at one point, had three separate groups/individuals stopped at the same time to chat with him. I had to keep from laughing out loud over it. The most hilarious encounter from this trip was the gentleman who asked about Orin's NG tube and then went on to tell me that he was going to pray that the Lord would heal Orin and "take this condition from him so he can live a happy and normal life." He touched Orin's foot at this point and it felt kind of like those crazy "healers" that you see in southern churches. Strange to say the least.
Most interesting new thing with Orin has been the venture into solid food. I wanted to do baby led weaning exclusively this time around, but the doctors really wanted us to get started on solids so as to ramp up his thirst mechanism and eliminate the need for the NG tube. As a result, we are doing a mix of BLW and purées. He doesn't seem to enjoy consuming any of it at this point, but for little guys with NDI, it can be a process, so we are just slogging away at it.
I guess that is the update. Carry on with your regularly scheduled programming :)

Another label for my side bar? I think so.

This blog got me thinking about my own beliefs. I have become a lactivist and really didn't see it coming, mostly because, until I was really in the thick of it, I didn't realize there was a need for such a thing.
See, where I come from, breastfeeding is normal. My mom nursed us, my aunts nursed their children, my cousin nursed her little ones when I was a teenager and lived with them. It was talked about as commonplace. I remember one particular conversation where my uncle spoke scathingly about our neighbour, who sent his wife down the hall to the bathroom when she had to nurse their children while visiting our house. Casting my mind back there, I don't really remember giving a thought to the existence of formula. The only instances in which I knew it was used were instances where I was babysitting, so it made sense that I was given a bottle of something to give to the baby.
My first encounter with the breastfeeding vs formula controversy was when the aforementioned cousin put me on the spot, asking why a family friend with a baby the same age as hers wasn't breastfeeding. I remember having that deer-in-the-headlights feeling. I had no idea why she wasn't. I hadn't given it a thought. I got the distinct tone of disdain in her voice though and muttered something about her breasts being too small. It was the best I could come up with at 15, not having a sweet clue about any of this, knowing it was none of my or her damn business, but feeling like I had to defend someone I cared about. She told me that this wasn't possible and that EVERYONE can breastfeed. I changed the subject.
When I joined my online community and we started having children, I started noticing threads popping up where claws were bared by defensive formula-feeders and high-horses were ridden by self-righteous breastfeeders. It was also at this time that I first heard the motto "breast is best", which has always sounded weird to me. You see, to me, breastfeeding was normal, the way things were - there was no need for it to be best. I guess, as a young adult, I still didn't see formula as an option, but rather a back-up plan.
When I was pregnant the first time, I had my first run-in with someone who was anti-breastfeeding. My mother's neighbour made a snide comment about not allowing my mother the opportunity to bond with her granddaughter. When I asked my mother about it, she explained that her friend felt breastfeeding was a selfish choice on the part of the mother that disallowed the rest of the family from bonding with the baby. I knew this was nonsense, but I wasn't confident enough to speak up, so I just rolled my eyes and moved on. The same neighbour also made a nasty comment at my baby shower for Orin when I unwrapped a breastfeeding pillow. I didn't respond this time because I knew it wasn't worth it.
Luckily, as the women in my online community became more mature and better debaters, I learned a lot more about the overall cultural situation with regard to breastfeeding and realised really quickly that what I knew was not normal. Culturally, what I grew up with - many women in my immediate circle who breastfed, public breastfeeding being commonplace, men who are incredibly comfortable with breastfeeding and may be considered lactivists themselves today - is not what most people grow up with. I also learned of the many factors that sabotage women in breastfeeding - formula companies making false claims about their products, workplaces not allowing women the opportunity to pump (not to mention the whole maternity leave system in the US), the discomfort of the general public, the belief that not being able to breastfeed is common, etc.
I have, over the course of being a parent, become more vocal in favour of breastfeeding. I have encountered many people on both sides of the debate - some very vocal (I will never forget the crazy parents in Florida who stalked off angrily because they obviously felt I was trying to scar their toddler by sharing googly faces with her while nursing Isabel in a courtyard). Through these experiences in particular, I have grown more confident in my beliefs. What I have been careful not to do though is demonize formula or women who formula-feed - this is neither productive nor kind. What I do firmly believe is that breatfeeding needs to become normal for others the way it was for me because breastmilk is the most complete and appropriate food for human babies - just like cows milk is compete and appropriate for baby cows. For this reason, I make a point of breastfeeding in public with no cover on a regular basis. I talk openly about it and support others in their endeavours to breastfeed their babies - I do for others what my friends and family did for me.

Happy Belated World Breastfeeding Week!

We were on holiday during Breastfeeding Week. I had every intention of blogging a little something about it, but vacation fun got in the way.

I thought I might talk about the fight I fought in order to breastfeed my son.

There was no doubt in my mind that I would nurse my daughter and I did and loved every minute of it.

When I became pregnant again (a mere 4 months after I stopped nursing Isabel, it dawned on me one day), there was no doubt I would nurse that baby too. When we found out it was a boy, dramatically increasing the concerns with regard to NDI, my determination didn't waver. I read various places that there was no reason that a baby with NDI couldn't be exclusively breastfed (while being supplemented with water).

My boy was born and within less than a day, it was determined that he was dehydrating and there was little doubt that he had NDI and wasn't getting enough fluid from breastfeeding. This was the first blow to my self-esteem and determination.

He had an IV put in and then a central line, still breastfeeding on demand the entire time. Once he was hydrated enough, the medical intervention was gradually removed and we tried giving him water in bottles. For another two weeks, we tried a multitude of different solutions for getting Orin eating, drinking and, most of all, healthy. When things were at their worst, Orin wasn't really getting enough water from the bottles, preferred the flowrate of the bottle to that of the breast, so he fussed at the breast every time I tried to feed him, meaning he wasn't eating either. Neither of us was sleeping because, as he dehydrated again, he became fussier and fussier - I slept a grand total of 1.5 hours one day. I was slowly losing my mind. I was losing confidence in myself and my ability to take care of my baby.

At this point, the paediatrician suggested we may need to start giving him formula. The first time it was suggested, I couldn't speak. I burst into tears - I knew that they were suggesting it because they wanted to get him healthy and get us home, but this was not how it was supposed to be. I asked the doctor if I could have some time to think about it. I thought long and hard. I spoke to my husband. I spoke to friends. I fielded a phone call from a well-meaning family member, encouraging me to use formula because "it worked for her kids." I took about a day to clear away all of the fog - the mess of opinions, the worries that others would think I was putting an agenda before the needs of my child, the guilt and fear.

The next day, I gathered myself up and waited by Orin's bedside for rounds. I knew what I wanted to happen and I was going to make it clear to all parties involved so we were all on the same page. When the doctor came around, I told her that breastfeeding my child was incredibly important to me. It was what he needed (both as a human infant in general and as a child with a sodium sensitivity - breastmilk is surprisingly low in sodium). I told her about the bottle preference and that I wanted the breast to be offered to him first at all times - every time he woke, fussed, seemed remotely hungry/thisty. I wanted to get rid of the bottles altogether for a while. I had seen many babies in the NICU with NG tubes because they were unable to eat themselves for whatever reason (usually because they were premature and were still too weak and small to nurse). I suggested we put in an NG tube for water in order to keep him hydrated and redevelop the nursing relationship. Once breastfeeding was well-established, we could attempt bottles again. I stood next to my baby, stone-faced, wearing messy gym clothes (my uniform while in the hospital) and generally looking disheveled, but serious. Much to my surprise, she said yes. As it turns out, the specialist in Halifax had suggested the same thing quite early on, but the local docs wanted to try more home-friendly options first

I couldn't pump (just as I couldn't with Isabel), so to feed him through the night, I had to be accessible. For five weeks, I lived at the hospital, sleeping in a 5'x 10' room when it was available and a leather couch in a TV lounge when it wasn't. I missed my family more than I can tell you. I lost the trust of my daughter temporarily. I didn't eat, sleep or maintain myself in anyway for five weeks. I dedicated myself to breastfeeding my son and helping him become healthy enough to come home.

He was released for good on March 16th at 5 weeks 4 days old. He will be six months old tomorrow and is still exclusively breastfed. Every doctor who has seen him (and there've been a bunch) have exclaimed over how healthy he is and how good he looks and how big he has gotten. One joked that whatever I have on tap is exactly what he needs - I couldn't have said it better.

You want to hear about a crap week?

Well, let me tell you about it.
Isabel got really sick last Sunday (i.e. fever, vomiting) and wasn't well again until she woke up Wednesday morning, just in time for Orin to get sick. He and I ended up having to go to the hospital Thursday AND Friday mornings to get him checked out, but he held his own, thankfully. He was back to his chipper self Saturday morning. At 11am, I noticed my throat was sore and by 2pm, I had a fever of 103. I have been miserable since...my temp got so high last night that I was shivering, crying and begging DH to help me. It was a sad sight. I can't lift my baby or walk with him without fearing dropping him or falling.

Oh right...and because it seems like a fun thing to throw in the mix, Orin has decided he doesn't want to nurse anymore and behaves like a maniac when I try to feed him - screaming like I am tearing his arms off, flailing his arms and legs and throwing himself backward off my lap. I *think* it is related to his teething (cutting two teeth while one has a RIDICULOUSLY bad virus and is already miserable is a sensible thing to do right?), but I can't say for sure that it isn't bottle preference coming to the surface again (he is still taking his water from bottles happily). As a result of his not taking milk, he is not getting enough fluid and is, once again, at risk of seriously dehydrating. This means weighing him before and after he "eats" (note the quotation marks) and his diapers to make sure things are moving normally.

Oh and hey, because there isn't enough going on. Isabel has been an absolute monster today (more time outs today than last week in its entirety). And our cat, who is experiencing renal failure, has thrown up about 5 times today.

Here's hoping that things start settling soon because I can't take much more.

Review of Cloth Diapers v. 2.0 - I think we have a winner!

Things are improving. We are now using cloth diapers at all times when at home between 7-8am (waking for the day) and 11pm (after dream feed when mommy goes to bed). I have stopped putting pressure on myself to use cloth exclusively or while out because it is just not going to work for us. There've been times when he's saturated/leaked through disposables onto the Piddle Pad (thank god for these things is all I have to say...we have one for each kid), so using cloth is just not an option. Letting go of the pressure I was putting on myself and focusing more on making it work as much as possible has definitely helped.
I am still preferring the pockets without question. They just work better for us, providing the versatility in absorption that we need. The best part is that I am THRILLED with the WAHM pockets that I bought recently. Let me tell you about them.
Cloth-by-Tel is the company. She makes products other than diapers too and runs sales regularly. We bought two animal print minky pockets.
To start with, the minky material is SO soft and adorable. The diapers are well-sewn; you can see the high quality workmanship. The placement of the stuffing hole is more comfortable than it is in the BumGenius and the elastic is nice and springy (I am sure that there is some deterioration of the elastic in the BumGenius from wear and tear, but I didn't realise just how much better it could be). The snaps are so much nicer to use than velcro and I find they fit Orin better than the other pockets, even with the extra stuffing we need.
They came with inserts that, again, were well-made, thick and soft.
We have had no problem with leaking, fit, wicking, absorption, rashes, staining, wash-wear (yet). In short, I love these diapers - especially for the price of $10-12 per diaper (insert included), which you absolutely can't beat! I will be getting more, without question!

A photo op:

Hrmmm...juxtaposition.

Dave and I were talking about the potential for me to take a 4 over 5 (take four years of pay over five years, taking the fifth year off of work to do whatever you please) sometime in the future.
I was pretending money was also no object and talking of our buying a boat and sailing around the world. We'd take the kids out of school and I told Dave that he would take the non-teaching equivalent of a sabbatical ("You mean quit?"...smarmy bugger) and we'd go where ever we wanted for the entire year.
I said that we wouldn't have to worry about the kids' schooling because I'd make sure they fulfilled the literacy and numeracy outcomes and the learning that they got from the traveling would be more valuable than anything they'd get in a classroom.
"For instance, 'we are going to study China today; step out on the dock and away we'll go'."
Dave's response, "And today, we'll learn about typhoons; they are different from hurricanes, you know. Orin, go get the weather station and Isabel, tie Orin and yourself down. We don't want to lose anyone this time"
Smarmy bugger.

Musings...

The strangest things can make you take pause and reflect. Today, for me, it was hanging laundry.

You know how the clothes on a clothesline can tell outsiders a little about their owners? You see scrubs, you guess nurse or doctor. You see teeny tiny baby clothes, you picture a new mom or a mom-to-be prepping her new little one's wardrobe. You see blankets, sleeping blankets and odds and ends and imagine a camping trip having just ended.

Hanging the hodgepodge of yoga pants and hoodies, jeans and t-shirts, small skirts and sundresses and tiny sleepers and body suits, I smiled at how the changes in my life were reflected on that line.

I used to hang clothes one day per week and the line's contents were comprised entirely of jeans, t-shirts, cute baby-tees, my work clothes and the bedding that was in the wash more for the fresh air smell from line drying than because it needed to be cleaned.

A few years later, I could be found hanging laundry a couple of days per week and added in the mix were more comfy clothes and tiny items covered in hearts and butterflies and drenched in pink and lavender.

I hang clothes several times per week now. There's a lot more bedding in the mix now due to bed-wettings and spit-up. More notably though are the small bits of blue, the sleepers with robots and soccer balls and the awww-worthy gym suits featuring Baby Tigger and Cookie Monster.

Just by watching my laundry, a person could see the transformations our family has taken and could see me clip each piece up with the deepest affection for what our life has become.

Review of Cloth Diapers

All cloth diaper users have preferences as to what works for their family - pocket, AIO, fitted, prefold, hemp, bamboo, cotton, snaps, velcro....I could go on forever. Well, throw a kidney disorder into the mix and things get a little more complicated. If I am being honest, we are struggling. Below, I will elaborate on pros and cons of the various types of dipes and accessories we are using.

Bumbooo size 2 Fitted - I was really excited about these diapers. I had heard so much about the absorbency of bamboo and absorbent is what we need. As fitted diapers, they need covers. We are using some that we got with a used lot that I bought on kijiji. They are simple kushies pull-on covers made of rubbery/plastic material (I can't find them on the net). I need to find some wrap-type covers for these, but these will do for now.
Look & Material - These diapers are cute, no question. They are soft and fuzzy and they look like the stereotypical, adorable cloth diaper of old. The elastic is strong, but not too tight. Unfortunately, they have to be covered with our crappy (PINK!!!) covers.
Fasteners - Snaps...loving this. Total snap convert and I will not be buying any new dipes with velcro.
Absorbency - Keeping in mind that I am dealing with a very specific situation (the kid is now drinking 760-800ml of water/day on top of nursing every 2-3 hours), I am a little disappointed with the absorbency. These diapers provide the opportunity to have 2 layers between bum and the cover for someone Orin's size. They also came with what they describe as a night time insert. In order to give Orin about an hour in these diapersr, I double layer the diaper right at the front (where he, as a boy, wets most) and then use the insert to double layer toward the back and put a third layer in the front (laying it flat in the diaper) OR quadruple layer the front. When I change him, he has almost inevitably soaked all the way through and the entire front of the diaper is soaked (waist to midway between his legs and hip to hip). This is not practical for any time other than those days spent hanging around the house.

BumGenius 3.0 OS pockets - I bought these as part of a used lot on kijiji. I was pretty keen to try these because I had a number of friends who had recommended them to me. They can be stuffed with whatever I inserts I want.
Look & Material - These basically look like disposables, but much cuter. They are the slimmest (depending upon how I stuff them) of the diapers we are using. I much prefer the PUL outside to the plastic material of the covers I am using with the fitted diapers.
Fasteners - Not a fan of the velcro. It doesn't hold the diaper closed as tightly as the snaps - it slips. I am sure that this is partially due to age and washing. Speaking of which, the laundry tabs basically don't hold the tabs in place anymore, so the tabs themselves are taking more abuse as a result.
Absorbency - the absorbency of these diapers is dictated by the inserts. I can stuff these well enough to last about 2 hours, as a rule. The night thing is that the fleece layer against his skin keeps him very dry, despite how much he has wet the diaper. I will discuss inserts below.

Chinese Prefolds - the other diaper included in the kijiji lot I purchased. I had no idea what to expect.
Look & Material - These are simply flat layers of cotton (extra layers in the middle where most wetting would happen). These are the old school diapers that people used to use pins to fasten (I am sure some people still do, but there is now a slightly less dangerous product called Snappis that do the same thing). They need covers. They are pretty cute ;)
Fasteners - As I mentioned, I use Snappis. They work surprisingly well, but require a little practice.
Absorbency - This is where the rubber hits the road and, in our house, these are a joke. Orin peed while I was fastening one of these on him and there was pee dripping out of the outside of the diaper before I got the fastener done :P I am using them as stuffing for the pocket diapers.

Inserts
Bamboo - Thin, but absorbent. They surprised me.
Hemp - These are dense and soak up everything. I put one of these in every diaper I stuff.
Cotton (including prefold diapers) - least absorbent and must always be supported by something else.

Claudia's Choices soap - I like it so far. I am not running into any problems with residue and it gets the diapers super clean almost every time (and a few hours out in the sun will get any stains out of diapers).

What works for us?
~vinegar in the wash...a tip I was given by a few cloth-using friends and I will never go back.
~stuffing pockets with fitted. If I really worry about him (his bum is rashy or I figure he is going to fall asleep or he has just drunk a lot of water), I will stuff a fitted diaper and an insert into the pocket diaper. This gives him extra absorbency and the fleece between him and the wetness. It gives him a giant bum, but it does the job.

If I am being honest, I am still using disposables a lot more than I want to. I am still trying to figure out how to make these work for us consistently during awake times. I don't expect to be able to use cloth at night - the boy soaks through disposables on a nightly basis (yes, I do a lot of laundry....thanks for noticing ;) ), so cloth is not an option, but I think we can do it throughout the day and even during naps. Keep your fingers crossed for us and if you have any advice, feel free to dole it out.

Some Milestones for the Girly Too

Last week was a busy one for Isabel.

We went through a rather unpleasant stint of bedtime drama that seems (fingers crossed) to be on its way out. Part of the issue seems to be that her imagination has exploded. She had a couple of nightmares, where she roused (didn't wake entirely) very upset, but unable to articulate what was wrong. She is also seeing dinosaurs in her blind, which is causing trouble getting to sleep.

She also went to her first movie - Shrek 4. Not including about 15-20 minutes toward the end where I let her play matching games on my iPhone to keep her entertained, she did really well! She wasn't a fan of wearing her 3D glasses, but was more cooperative about it than I expected her to be. Most importantly, she seemed to really enjoy the experience. Unfortunately, by the time they turned the lights on after the movie and I could get a photo of her with her glasses, she was beginning to meltdown because it was naptime. I think we are going to take her to see Toy Story 3 as well though, so hopefully, I can get one then.

"Cry me a river. I practically stew in other beings' bodily fluids daily."

Yes, these words crossed my mind. My dear sweet husband complained about cleaning up pee or something or other and this was my thought on the matter.
Really though, with a potty training nearly-3-year old, a newborn with a kidney condition, a cat with failing kidneys and a hairball problem, it isn't far off the mark. I feel like I am constantly cleaning or preventing the need to clean up someone's bodily fluids. I am constantly dealing with poop and pee and vomit. I don't remember this clause in my contract.

A day in the life...

I kept meaning to post this, but kept forgetting. I was reminded/inspired by, my friend, Jenn's post on her blog today.
I have been asked often what I mean by "watering" Orin and how often I do and why do I look so damned tired *laugh* Let me run down what our day typically looks like:
2am - I wake up to run a bolus feed of water for Orin. I try to keep him sleeping for this one.
5am - Wake Orin to eat (if he hasn't already awoken) and run a bolus feed of water.
7am - Orin wakes to eat; I get Isabel up and ready if she is going to daycare
8am - Bolus feed of water for Orin
9am - Orin back down for a nap
**Izzy and I eat and watch CBC Kids cartoons while Orin naps; if she is at daycare, I eat and do laundry
10am - Orin wakes again; Izzy has a nap
11am - Orin eats
11am - Get Isabel's lunch together
12pm - Orin gets water; Isabel eats
12:30/1pm - Both kids go down for a nap....lately,this often takes work for both of them for some unknown reason
**While they nap, I eat, switch laundry, load dishes and catch a moment or two of TV/internet
1:30/2pm - Orin is back up and eats
2/2:30pm - Isabel is back up and Orin gets water
**If we are going to get out during the day, we try to do it now...sometimes we can get out in the morning, but mornings are pretty hairy. Isabel also has a snack during this period and if we don't go out, we go for a walk, play in the yard or on the floor. I also try to get more laundry done at this point.
4pm - Start working on supper
4:30pm - Orin loses his mind because he is hungry and starting to get really tired because he is not a fan of napping, so I strap him on in the Moby and dance around while working at supper and entertaining Isabel
5pm - Dave gets home and takes over supper/loading the dishwasher while I feed Orin
5:30pm - Water Orin/entertain Izzy
6pm - Eat supper
7pm - Bath time and bedtime routine for the babes (Isabel gets dressed, teeth brushed, reads books; Orin gets dressed, fed and has water)
8pm - Bed time
**We have a little time to relax after the babes go to bed, but I also spend this time folding laundry, tidying toys a little and sterilizing the equipment we use for Orin
11pm - Wake Orin to eat and do a bolus feed of water; go to bed

Here is a picture of the drying tray after a typical sterilizing run, which happens every two days typically:


I scoured YouTube for a video of a bolus feed using an NG tube, but couldn't find one. I may make one just to show folks what it looks like. He tolerates them well and it is working, which is all that matters to me :)

My dear sweet babies are flourishing and happy, so every day is worth it :) Here are some pictures to show them off:

Best-laid Plans

So I had every intention of keeping up with this. Let me tell you how that plan went awry.
I went on maternity leave on January 15th out of sheer exhaustion and in a great deal of pain due to a pregnancy-induced condition in my hips. You would think that this would give me lots of time to blog, but instead I went into nesting mode, tidying the house, prepping freezer meals, getting errands run, attending my multitude of doctor's appointments.
Nearly a month flew by...my due date came and went. I was in false labour from January 26th (so we didn't end up planning anything serious for my birthday just in case). Finally, on February 11th, labour really picked up. I got some sleep that night, but by early morning, it was looking good. It kept intensifying until we finally decided to go to the hospital around 10:30am. Labour moved along well and my wee boy was born at 2:18pm.
If you followed my other blog, you'd know that I am a carrier of nephrogenic diabetes insipidus. My wee boy has NDI and has the distinct honour of being one of the earliest diagnosed kids that our doctors have seen. Normally, symptoms show up around day 4 of life, but Orin was diagnosed on day 2.
Here is a summary of the first few weeks of Orin's life as posted on ThatBoard:

Orin is three weeks old today. He was diagnosed with nephrogenic diabetes insipidus on day two. The earliest diagnosis of this condition in recent memory at this hospital. He has been a mostly permanent resident of the NICU since then.
The long and the short of the condition is that his kidneys don't concentrate his urine properly, meaning that he ends up with a build up of salt and can dehydrate very quickly.
So for Orin, this has meant a stint on IV fluids. His first one was in his hand. That was rough, especially since the nurses told me that it took several attempts. When his body started rejecting that one, they jabbed him another 6 or 7 times and ended up putting one in his head. I cried when I saw him with that one. His body started rejecting that one within a day so they moved it. Another in his head. One of the worst moments of my life happened with this IV when, in a fraction of a second, he got his finger wrapped in the loop of tubing taped to his head and started to pull. Luckily, Dave and the nurse intervened quickly because I became mentally paralyzed. Between exhaustion, stress and my fear of needles, there was nothing I could do, my mind went blank and I just started to pace in circles while my baby screamed. :'(
when he blew out the 3rd IV in less than a day of getting it, the decision was made to put a central line in. They were hoping to go in through his arm. The second choice was his belly button in one of the major arteries - very dangerous because if it came out, he could bleed out very quickly.
Of course, they couldn't get it in his arm, so belly button it was. I cried really hard when I saw him after this. A nurse cried along with me because she said that she could see my heart break when I saw him. He slept for nearly 6 straight hours after the procedure because the stress of it wiped him right out.
This central line meant my sweet boy was on limited access because we didn't want to jostle him about too much with that line in so he came out for nursing and that was about it.
Things are a little blurry at this point, but I think he had the line in for 4 days, at which point it was felt that he was out of the real danger zone he was getting into and we could start working on methods of getting fluids into him that would work at home.
Since then, we have been trying various combinations of medications (he is on three right now), salt solution, sterile water and breastmilk in our attempts to get him gaining weight. Unfortunately, none of these methods has worked yet. We have been sent home on a couple of day passes, which was absolutely wonderful.
Unfortunately, we are in hospital again because he is still not putting on weight. Yesterday the decision was made to put a feeding tube in to try pumping water into him that way. If he hasn't put any weight on by tomorrow, I suspect the paediatrician is going to put the IV back in. Just the thought of it makes me feel sick and teary because it feels like we are moving backward rather than forward :(. What's more, the paed wants me to start supplementing him every second feed with formula because he is worried about the lack of calories in the water. I have been saying the same thing since they started pushing water into him before BM, but no one listened to me. Now, my milk supply has diminished some AND Orin is getting fussy at the breast because it is slower flow than the bottle he is taking water in. All that said, supplementing with formula does not work for me at all and is entirely unnecessary according to the specialist at the IWK and the neonatologist here, so I have asked for a few days of making the breast first choice again before we take any other action. I have purchased low flow nipples for the water bottles and fenugreek in case I do struggle to keep up with him on my own.
I found out from a nurse that the paed (who, I admit, is very knowledgeable, but is lacking in bedside manner and creative problem solving skills which are needed with a condition as rare and challenging to manage as thus) foresees Orin being in hospital for another two weeks. I could really use some positivity to get us out sooner. I am being allowed to stay because he is breastfed exclusively and pumping doesn't work for me (I get abou half as much with the pump as I would estimate the baby gets) and while I am very grateful, I am missing my home and family like crazy. Isabel has changed so much over the last 3 weeks - she is in a big girl bed, she is using the potty, she uses personal pronouns consistently and is just SO bright. It makes me really sad that I am missing it :(
Anyway, that is the gist of it. the absolute worst things about this are missing Isabel, what this seems to have done to her trust in me and the feeling that Orin may never be *mine*. It still feels like he belongs to them and I am just a bystander waiting for them to hand him over. I certainly don't feel like his mom given how little I can do for him. :(


The good news is that, as soon as the feeding tube went in, things improved IMMENSELY:
When we started the NG tube, we struggled to find the magic combination of water and caloric top-up (20mls of formula or BM depending if I could pump or not). He gained and lost at random. Then, one day, we found it and he has been gaining since then. For instance, in just over 4 days, he has gained over 320g. That's nearly 12oz for all you imperial folks out there. Impressive, given that we realised on Friday that he'd grown 1 1/2 inches in length since birth!
While it can't be a long term solution, because the NG tube is working so well, we are leaving it in for a while longer rather than trying to reintroduce bottles again just yet. This will require a ridiculous schedule that will mean we really won't be able to go anywhere or do anything until that changes but we will manage.
The great news is that the doc is going to send us home this week! I am so ready to go home. I can't say that I won't see the inside of this hospital for a long time, as much as I would like to, because we will have to come in for daily weigh-ins and regular bloodwork for a while yet, but that is perfectly alright with me.

Since that update, we've been home for about a month. He has continued to gain like a fiend. We have been going to the hospital for check ups on a regular basis and the doctors are SO pleased and impressed with his progress. We are doing so well at home. We've settled into our routine. He is such a wonderful baby. Isabel is such a wonderful big sister. The best part, Orin is now beginning to take water in a bottle, which will mean the eventual removal of the NG tube!

Alright, I feel better having updated you all. I will post a more detailed update of what we've been up to since the hospital, but for now, I hope you understand why I haven't been blogging.