One Month Update

Dear Lana,

Happy One Month Birthday!

As I write this post, you are resting in your swing and ripping some of the loudest farts I’ve ever heard. If the volume of the fart were adjusted for the size of the being it comes out of, you would be a serious contender for some type of world record. Rico, on the other hand, would compete in the noxious smell category. He managed to unleash a fart at bedtime one evening last week that actually woke you up and made you cry.

Speaking of crying, you continue to have at least one episode of colic every day, but you keep it fresh by switching up the time of day or evening in which you have your episode. You’ve also started crying actual tears in the last week, which makes your meltdowns all the more stressful and heartbreaking for me. I’ve been studiously reading The Happiest Baby on the Block and attempting to apply the methods recommended for calming you when we’re at Severe or High Rage Level Alert. The techniques actually work most of the time, but the first step of swaddling has proven almost impossible given your ridiculous limb strength and perseverance. I’ve yet to create a swaddle that you can’t wrench your arms out of, and that includes the wraps I’ve done with our Swaddle Me Blanket and the time I employed packing tape to try to seal the receiving blanket wrap. I probably shouldn’t admit that I used tape to wrap up my baby, but I didn’t put it anywhere that touched your skin so it probably doesn’t qualify as child abuse.

I also learned from my book that you have an intense temperament, which is described as a cross between passionate and explosive. The example of an intense baby that wakes up screaming for food like she will die if she doesn’t eat RIGHT NOW and then shakes her head so violently that she doesn’t realize the bottle is in her mouth could have been written about you. The explosive description is particularly fitting since we operate with the efficiency of a bomb squad with a live, ticking device when you wake up ready to eat (bib, burp cloth, bottle on the double!) and tip toe around the house like we’re trying not to set off a bomb when you’re asleep.

You continue to eat with great enthusiasm and you have a knack for waking up hungry whenever anyone else attempts to dine in the same vicinity. It doesn’t matter if you’ve just finished a bottle and drifted off to sleep -- the second food touches a plate you are raring and ready to go. I took you for your first public outing that did not involve a doctor’s office on Thursday: lunch at the local Mexican restaurant with my friends Missy and Toni. You behaved yourself amazingly well, but I had to feed you an entire bottle as soon as you caught a whiff of the chips and salsa.

During your non-raging waking periods, you are becoming increasingly more fun to interact with. You look at us with great interest now and seem fascinated when we talk to you and use funny voices. You even seem to enjoy my singing, which means you will really enjoy the audition rounds of the next season of American Idol. You love laying on your changing table and looking up at the animals hanging from its pegs and you find the music and mobile on your swing mesmerizing. The tune from that swing is burned into my brain and I hear it when I sleep, but I will put up with anything that makes you happy.

You are my beautiful, intense, challenging, sweet, gluttonous, adorable baby and I love you very, very much.

-Mom

Working for a Living

The day that I have dreaded for the past few weeks has finally come – today John returned to work from his paternity leave. We’ve spent the last three weeks learning how to care for Lana together, and during that time we developed a good tag team approach that will be sorely missed with John back at work.

John’s ability to soothe Lana was put to the test during her second week of life, when we were introduced to what we now call “The Rage.” Episodes of The Rage began to take place in the late evening, just as we were attempting to feed Lana and get her ready for bed. For several nights, The Rage lasted over five hours and left us exhausted, frustrated, and concerned that we may have inadvertently brought home a devil baby. We tried anything and everything to calm Lana during these episodes, including putting her in her swing, in her stroller, and even in her car seat on top of the dryer. She would fall asleep just long enough for us to stop holding our breath, and then our breathing would annoy her and she would wake up even more enraged.

The following chart illustrates the Lana Rage Level Alert that can be used to define a good and bad day in the Mayes household:


John will forever be my hero for figuring out how to move Lana from Rage Level Severe to Low by swinging her in her car seat until she calms down enough to move her to the swing. This technique is back-breaking and has very little margin for error, but it’s better than developing ear cancer from prolonged exposure to Lana’s screams.

Luckily, we survived John’s first day back at work with only a temporary foray into Rage Level High and lots of continued assistance from my Mom. I know that there will still be some hard days ahead of me, but this is my full-time job for the next two months. I recently found a post from one of my favorite mom blogs that perfectly describes the job of a new mother:

“It is the most difficult job I have ever had, a job where my boss calls at least twice during the middle of the night, a job where my boss has to approve my bathroom breaks. I have a job where I am required to wipe my boss’s ass. And not only am I really good at it, but I am also stupid enough to love it."

A Labor of Love

Lana's birth was without a doubt one of the strangest and most surreal experiences of my life. I've documented the details of my labor lest I forget all the funny, painful, and completely ludicrous moments that defined that day. I apologize in advance for the length of the post. If you have little time or little interest in the status of my cervix, this is a good post to skip.

August 29, 2006

6:00am – John and I wake up and get ready to go to the hospital for our scheduled induction at 8:00am. I put on my “Hey Baby” maternity t-shirt in anticipation of meeting my baby today, and note that I am still having sporadic contractions.

6:30am – The hospital calls to tell us there are no beds available, so we should stay home and wait for a call when a room opens up. My “Hey Baby” t-shirt suddenly seems depressing.

6:45am – My mom arrives to accompany us to the hospital and gets the bad news that we’ve been put on hold. John goes to pick up Chick-fil-a chicken biscuits and a sweet tea to cheer me up.

8:00-10:00am – I fall asleep to the sounds of Heidi Klum dismissing wannabe designers on Project Runway reruns.

10:00-11:00 am – I wake up and find that my sporadic contractions appear to have stopped entirely. I am restless and feel like walking for the first time in weeks. Mom and I stroll up and down the street for the next 45 minutes.

11:00-11:45am – Back on the couch with more Project Runway. Just as the designers begin to unveil the potato sacks they’ve designed for “real women,” I feel a sharp pang and hustle it to the restroom where I decide that my water has broken.

11:45am–noon – My once mild contractions are becoming increasingly more painful. We decide that it’s time to go to the hospital, beds or no beds. I put in a call to my doctor and I’m told to go to her office before checking in at the maternity ward.

Noon-12:30pm – We make the commute from our house to the hospital. John makes jokes about changing his work schedule to go in at noon and miss the morning traffic. I have no sense of humor at this point.

12:30-1:30pm – I waddle up to my doctor’s office on the 14th floor and pace the waiting room while I wait to be called back. My look of distress speeds up the process, but I’m still weighed and have my vitals checked like this is a normal appointment. I finally see a doctor who seems surprised to find that I am over five centimeters dilated. This earns me a “direct admit” to the maternity ward.

1:30-1:40pm – I stagger out of the office and collect John from the hallway where he’s talking on his cell phone by yelling, “We’re going downstairs NOW!!!” We get into the elevator and begin the interminable ride down to the lobby, with the elevator stopping on every floor in between. I seriously consider giving the old man with a walker a push on the sixth floor to hurry him out the door.

1:40-2:00pm – I arrive in the maternity ward and check in at the desk. While I’m signing forms and putting on admission bracelets, a clueless couple distracts the desk attendant by trying to locate a friend. There is no one registered by the name they provide, and the couple proceeds to debate what the baby’s daddy’s last name might be. I am very close to telling them to go away and tell their friend not to be so slutty. Instead I groan and lean over the desk, forcing the desk attendant to finish my admission. I’m once again told that there are no rooms available, so I will have to wait a few minutes.

2:00-2:30pm – I pace the maternity ward waiting area and begin to draw stares from the people who can actually sit in chairs without moaning or looking like they might throw up. I finally stagger back to the admissions desk and tell the attendant that I am having contractions every two minutes and they’d better damn well get me a room. We are finally taken back to a labor and delivery room, where I change into a gown and collapse on the bed, waiting for a nurse.

2:30-3:00pm – I lie on the bed in intense pain with only my mom and John for support. We call for a nurse from the room, but no one comes. John finally storms out of the room and grabs the first person he finds in the hallway. Luckily, it’s a doctor and he points to a nurse to attend to me immediately.

3:00-3:30pm – The nurse who shows up begins my lab work, inserts an IV, and sets up monitoring of the baby’s heart rate and my contractions. She notices me writhing in pain on the bed and instructs me to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. This is the only thing that actually helps me endure the pain. I wonder why those childbirth classes last all day, when this is all you really need to know. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe.

3:30-4:00pm – The nurse returns with Demerol to tide me over until the epidural arrives. It does little to decrease the pain, but does convince me that my mom has her glasses on upside down. John holds my hand and feeds me ice chips in between contractions. I open my eyes occasionally to find that the “Are You in Pain?” smiley/frowny face poster is mocking me.

Of course I am in pain, you stupid, worthless poster. I want to tell John to tear it down, but another contraction hits and all I can do is breathe.

4:00pm – The nurse returns to tell me that there are two people ahead of me for an epidural. I manage to squeak out a protest and she decides to examine my progress before leaving again. I am now over eight centimeters dilated, which allows me to cut in line and become next up for the epidural.

4:45pm – The anesthesiologist arrives to give me the epidural, at long last. I am in so much pain at this point that sitting up and bending over is far worse than the small prick in the back from the needle. The relief is almost immediate, and I feel like naming my daughter after the anesthesiologist, if only I could remember her name or even what she looks like.

5:15pm – The pain is gone, but I begin to feel tremendous pressure and a desire to push. I tell the nurse that it feels like I’m about to take the world’s biggest poop, and she says, “In a way, you are.”

5:30pm – I’m fully dilated and just waiting on my doctor to begin pushing.

5:45pm – My doctor arrives and it’s finally time to get this baby out. John retreats from the room in order to avoid collapsing on the floor. The nurse gives him a hard time, but I tell her to let him go and worry about me. We do some test pushes and my doctor declares me an excellent pusher. This is a huge relief, since no one likes a crappy pusher.

6:15pm – Despite my pushing prowess, the baby still isn’t out. The doctor tells me she is getting very close and shoves an oxygen mask on my face.

6:30pm – Pushing has grown tiresome, but the doctor continues to insist that the baby is almost out. She also tells me that the baby has a ton of hair. I suspect she’s lying about the almost out part, but I’m unwilling to look in the mirror she offers to confirm my suspicions.

6:45pm – Suddenly three more nurses appear in the room and I’ve got a complete cheering squad. The doctor pulls out a vacuum and a scalpel, and I have never been more thankful for epidurals.

6:52pm – She’s finally here! The doctor pulls her out and says: “Throw away the newborn clothes, because this baby is huge!” My mom cuts the cord and suddenly I’m looking into the eyes of my baby girl.

6:55pm – John comes back to the room to check on my progress and hears a baby crying from outside the room. He steps in and sees his daughter for the first time as the nurses administer the Apgar test. She scores and 8.9 out of 10. It’s not quite an A, but I cut her some slack since she’s only a few minutes old. John introduces her to my mom and staff as Lana Kathleen Mayes.

7:00pm – I have an almost 10 lb. baby and a slight fever after the birth, which earns Lana a quick trip to the hospital nursery to check for signs of infection and monitor her blood sugar. John accompanies her to the nursery and also announces her birth to our waiting family.

7:30pm – I’m left completely alone in the labor and delivery room while all the family admires Lana in the nursery. My father arrives to check on me after a few minutes, along with a nurse who asks if I want a Tylenol or a Percocet. I choose Percocet, because I just had a 10 lb. baby and I want something strong.

8:00pm – The nurse outfits me in some extremely attractive maternity wear and wheels me out of the labor and delivery room towards my mother/baby suite. I meet my mom and John along the way and get settled into my new room, which now has a mother but no baby.

8:15pm – Lana is still in the nursery, and a nurse arrives to provide instructions on caring for myself and our baby. John and his dad go across the street to Mick’s to pick up a burger and piece of Oreo cheesecake for me, which I totally deserve after giving birth to a 10 lb. baby.

9:00pm – John and David return with dinner, and the nurse is still rattling off instructions as my eyes glaze over. The cheeseburger perks me up.

11:30pm – Our parents have gone home for the evening, and Lana is finally returned to us. Our family is together, healthy, and safe. Life has never been better.

One Week Update

Dear Lana,

You turn one week old today and I’m amazed at how the time has flown. I can hardly believe that this time last week I was meeting you for the very first time. Your birth was a whirlwind and completely different experience than what I imagined. Despite all my worrying and kidding about growing you in a bubble, I wouldn’t change a thing about the way you came into this world.

Since bringing you home, your father and I have delighted in getting to know you and learning to recognize your signals for hunger, displeasure, and utter contentment. You only occasionally work yourself into a crying frenzy – mostly when we change your clothes or fail to get a bottle in your mouth fast enough. When you start to calm down you make the most adorable mews that sound exactly like, “Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.” It sounds like you are providing directions and assuring us that we are finally doing the right thing to make you happy.

You make a ridiculously cute purring/snoring sound when you fall asleep in someone’s arms and you get the hiccups at least once a day, just like in the womb. You really enjoy breast milk, but you have absolutely no use for boobies and prefer a more sophisticated delivery method like an Avent bottle.

You also have an odd habit of getting extremely angry during some feedings and shaking your head violently. You’ll plant your fist firmly in your mouth and become enraged at the suggestion that you should finish your bottle rather than wail and eat your bib. We’ve been told that you do this because you are gassy, but you stubbornly refuse to burp for us on all but a few special occasions. When you do finally rip a belch, your father and I cheer like you’ve just won Wimbledon or earned a scholarship to Harvard.

Speaking of your father, how awesome is your Daddy? I knew he would be wonderful with you, but I still marvel at the way he learned to care for you during our short stay in the hospital and looked after you when I was unable to get out of bed. He is a diapering pro and has a knack for calming you and rocking you to sleep when you will do nothing but squirm and cry with me. I placed you in your sleep positioner beside him in the bed early one morning while I got your bottle ready and returned to find him curled up next to you with your tiny hand stroking his face. Seeing the two of you together constantly brings me to tears.

You have also gotten to know your grandparents in the past week, particularly your Granny Teresa who graciously spent day and night with us while we settled in at home. It is a huge relief for us to have family that we can trust to care for you and support us during this exciting and sometimes scary time.

All in all, it has been a week of extreme highs, occasional lows, and constant surprises. Happy One Week Birthday, Lana. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us next week.

Love,

Mom

All About Lana

Lana has been home with us for almost five whole days now, and already I can't imagine life without her. She's sweet, feisty, cuddly, and has amazing arm strength for someone less than a week old. I spent months imagining what she would be like, but she is so more than I could have ever hoped for.


Here's a quick introduction to the wonder that is our Lana:

First Name: Lana (rhymes with Donna). It's a Hawaiian name that means floating, buoyant. The Irish meaning is attractive, peaceful.

Middle Name: Kathleen. We chose this in honor of my Great Aunt Kathleen (Kacky), a wonderful lady who I spent a lot of time with as a child enjoying summers in the country.

Hobbies: Flailing her arms about, chewing her bib or sleeves, sleeping in the arms of her parents and grandparents.

Likes: Her swing, eating, her stroller, more eating, her nursery, eating again, sponge baths, and more eating.

Dislikes: Her bassinet, belly button cord cleaning, and not eating when she wants.

Nicknames: Lana Bo Bonna, Hungry Hippo