Postcards from the real world...

Well, the age of pixie dust, puppy dogs and candy canes has faded as quickly as it came... my rose coloured glasses have turned a truer pragmatic shade. This isn't to be taken as complaining, nor reneging on any earlier comments, but rather a simple statement regarding a non-simple situation... having a baby is no easy feat"...having a baby is no easy feat!"! I don't think I ever claimed it was, but for the record, reality has hit.

Today (now yesterday by the time I post this) was a big day in the parental learning/adjusting curve - a turning point sort-a-speak. Up to this point, everything was new - everyday was different than the day before. We (or I - as I can't speak entirely for Kim) always felt as though every situation was a temporary one, and that things were only going to get better. This isn't to say that things were bad - quite the opposite, things were great and they actually were getting better everyday.

We started out this long strange trip in the hospital. Three and a half days of bonding with our new son, having the assistance of nurses and caretakers, and the thought of going home with our baby consistently running through our head. That was my goal - get home and start truly enjoying parenthood. When we did get home, it was as expected - Great. Problem was we were back in the hospital before we had an opportunity to truly experience home life. So there I was again, being a parent, without the typical parental situation. Or so I thought.

While in the hospital for the second time, I again spent most of the time having visions of how things were going to be different when we got home - and that kept me going. Another three and a half days later - home for good. This time was even better than the first... Kim was on a true road to recovery, we had our parenting skills sharpened, and I was ready for parenthood.

Meanwhile, Kim had been doing fantastic. She had mastered breastfeeding and was emotionally sound - well, pretty much. Unfortunatley Gordie did not put on his weight as quickly as Doc S would have liked, and suggested/requested we 'top' Gord's feedings up with formula. As a result of Kim's infection and extended stay at the luxurius St. Joseph's, it was thought that perhaps her 'milk' was not in as best as it should. Whether that is true or Well you may as well told her "You suck as a mother, you big horrible failure".not, is too hard to say. What I can say, is that no matter who you are, after birth, you are going to have some very interesting emotions surface along with the anxiety of first time motherhood and the need to provide optimal care. From what I've heard, every mother already fears they are starving their baby. Combine that with a Doctor stating the baby is not gaining weight, and you need to ensure proper feedings, well you may as well have told her "You suck as a mother, you big horrible failure".

So, over the last few days, his feedings have become an all out milk mayhem frenzy, making sure he not only maximized the breast, but also ensuring formula feeding fullness. On a side note, and to only complicate the emotional issue, you would think we were feeding him the blood of a sacrificial virgin the way formula is considered by most. Also, bottles when mixed in with the breast do not help breastfeeding as it removes the need for Gord to 'suck' and makes it more difficult to ensure proper latch when returning to the breast.

This feeding obsession, in conjunction with our lack of sleep, Kim's slow recovery and her overwhelming sense to succeed at everything she does has made the situation difficult and made breastfeeding become increasingly more of a challenge. She consistently questions whether he is getting adequate nutrition - even though his weight as of Wednesday morning was back up just shy of his birth weight. I think she feels very overwhelmed, and naturally so - but unwarrented as she is doing an amazing job. The reality has hit that this is the way things are going to be for a while. There is no immediate light at the end of the tunnel regarding sleep, we are constantly going to be worrying about something when it comes to Gord, and we will never feel perfect in our parenting skills and habits. Now 8 hours after I began this postcard, (a night of little sleep, dirty diapers, feedings every 2 hours and a commitment to breastfeed irregardless the exhaustion that accompanies it) we do realize that as it may not be immediate, there is going to be a day when we have organized this chaos into something manageable. In the meantime, we are going to enjoy it the best we can because the true reality of the situation is this is exactly what we had hoped for.