Yesterday morning, I noticed that JJ had a little cough. Nothing major - with his now chronic stuffy nose, I assumed it was from post-nasal drip, but it still raised some concern. He seemed to be feeling okay, so I decided not to panic over it.
This is the part where I'll say what I wish I had realized yesterday: I should have listened to my motherly instinct and gotten it checked out RIGHT THEN.
Since JJ seemed to be feeling okay, at 5 o'clock, we packed up and headed to Nana's. He spent the evening there while Jerry and I attended the January Birthday Bash at Sarah and Justin's (January birthdays represent! LOL!) He seemed fine when we dropped him off, and just as fine when we returned three hours later to pick him up.
As I was feeding him after we got home, I noticed that he was having some difficulty breathing. Another "no big deal," it wasn't uncommon for him to have stuffiness when eating. As I started to suck the stuff out of his nose, he began to cry and cough. LOUDLY. He coughed so hard that he vomited, cried LOUDLY some more, and coughed persistently. I tried to soothe him, but by the time Jerry called the pediatrician and left a message, JJ was frantic and I knew we needed to get to an ER. Pronto.
We were in the car and out of the driveway in about 30 seconds. It was 11:00 p.m. Although it seemed like it took years, we pulled into Chippenham Hospital's parking lot eighteen minutes later (I remember staring at the clock in the car). JJ had vomited again in the car and was pretty much asleep by the time we got there. I was in my striped pajamas, also covered in vomit, but I didn't care. The only thing that mattered in the world was JJ.
We were immediately triaged and whisked away the Pediatric ER, which was brightly decorated with yellow fish and rainbow seahorses. I held JJ close to me and prayed as we walked back. JJ was feeling better by the time we were ushered into our room, and after the few minutes of sleep he got in the car.
A nurse finally came in after another 30 minutes and took a look at JJ to make sure he wasn't in true respiratory distress. His lungs were clear, so she left and we waited some more for the pediatrician to come in.
Around 1 a.m., the doctor finally came in and took a look over JJ. Both of his ears were infected (again or still? I haven’t decided), but his lungs were clear. She concluded that he has Respiratory Syncytial Virus (RSV), which has caused bronchiolitis (http://kidshealth.org/parent/infections/lung/rsv.html). It’s basically a super-charged cold that has settled in his bronchial air ways, kind of like baby bronchitis. I later learned that this is very common with C-Section babies, especially those who go to day care; although I don’t think he caught this one from daycare… I’m fairly sure he caught it from me. Basically, we’re now the proud parents of a very sick kid.
From onset of symptoms, the worst of the infection happens on day 2 (which is today) and by day four; the disease is no longer contagious. The doctor warned that JJ could be coughing for three whole weeks. Happy Birthday to me.
The doctor decided that JJ wasn’t sick enough to keep him in the hospital but made sure that we were aware of the circumstances in which we need to bring him back. I was reassured that he wouldn’t suffocate himself in his sleep, and that he would let us know if he was in serious distress. He slept in his car seat last night, which seemed to help a lot with his breathing, and I slept (or, at least, pretended to sleep) on the sofa next to him. We got to bed around 2 and he slept until 8, with intermittent bouts of coughing all night. It was a rough one.
JJ’s cough has now transformed into a raspy bark, very similar to the type of cough I have had for over a week. We’re both down for the count today. We’ve had lots of cuddle time, sleepy time on the sofa, and he’s now comfortably sleeping in the swing. The only thing we can do for his cough and cold is the run the humidifier, force fluids, and pray that he gets over this one quickly and stays well long enough for us to regain our sanity.
We need to be sane. Desperately.
Showing posts with label JJ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label JJ. Show all posts
Sunday
Wednesday
Coming Clean in a Teacup, Volume I
I have never had a problem with readily volunteering information. Like about a surprise birthday party that I once ruined. Or when I got pregnant – I had to tell someone that day and made her keep the secret. Keeping secrets is NOT my strong suit, and I wish I knew why. Who doesn’t love keeping a juicy secret? Me.
It is for this very reason that I am writing this blog, in volumes no less, right now.
I don’t know if any of you are tired of hearing me talk about having a kid or not, and to that I say “Oh well!” I will continue to talk about it until it’s old to me, which may be never… or until our next one arrives in another seven to ten years. I don't know if there are any baby books written about any of this, because I pretty much despise reading. Meh.
Today I want to talk about something…. a little scary. I don’t even want to have a full-out conversation about it, I just want to type. I can’t recall anyone ever writing/blogging/ emailing/talking about how they FELT after having a baby. Sure, I’ve read plenty about the physical ailments (and there are plenty) after having a baby, but nothing about how a woman really feels, emotionally, about having a baby. I think the reason why I felt that my emotions were so incredible was because no one told me what I would be feeling or experiencing. I expected for everything to be normal again right away, only with a little less sleep and a cute baby to carry around. I was wrong, and part of that could be my fault for not being proactive about the situation and seeking out the answers to “what might be.”
First off, a “little” less sleep should have been translated into “zero” sleep. A newborn can eat every two hours, which JJ did. So I would get up, change him (at least ten minutes), feed him (which took 30 minutes), rock him back to sleep (sometimes up to 30 minutes) and go back to sleep myself (roughly ten to fifteen minutes). That left me with about 40 minutes of sleeping before he woke again to eat. Your body was designed to function on 6 to 8 CONSECUTIVE hours of sleep per night. Nothing can prepare you for the shock of sleeping only 40 minutes every two hours, and trust me… you don’t get used to it. Add this to the fact that your hormones are dancing a jig inside your brain – and it’s a recipe for instant psychosis.
The first two weeks I was a mess. Not only could I hardly move from the C-section, but I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I almost couldn’t function. I would be holding JJ while feeding or rocking him and start to cry uncontrollably. My tears dripped on his newborn face and I would wipe them off gently, focusing on the contours of his tiny nose and chin and cheeks… and start to cry harder. I was paralyzed by the thought about how lucky we were that he was here and healthy. It’s startling that you can love someone you’ve never met so much that you would give your life for his to be spared.
JJ got his first ear infection by his second week. You’ve never heard a baby cry like he did. Babies are difficult to soothe when they’re that little to begin with, but when you add sickness on top of that, soothing becomes impossible. Jerry and I rocked, sang to, talked to, and held JJ almost constantly for a solid two weeks. I slept while I held him. I peed while holding him. Jerry held him while I showered. It was the only thing that brought him any comfort and it was, like everything else, exhausting.
As JJ learned how to be a baby and I learned how to be a mom, the emotional roller coaster slowed down a bit. JJ started to sleep up to four hours a night (not consistently, but often) by week three and it was a very welcome relief. While my constant crying continued, I also became emotionally unstable over many little things. I would get wildly aggravated if there were dirty dishes in the sink, or if I got woken up by anything other than the baby (telephone, dog barking, Jerry kissing me goodnight – you name it.) I screamed and yelled and cried and threw temper tantrums. Now I know how two-year-olds feel when they haven’t napped. It isn’t pleasant. I became overly protective of the baby and called the pediatrician/newborn nursery several times in several weeks over little things (some of which weren’t so little – like the choking-on-and-sneezing-out spit-up at week two.) I had a hard time being physically away from him, even to take a shower. I was tethered to him; trapped like a hostage by my own child.
It was around week four that the breastfeeding became complicated. JJ needed more than I could produce, so I pumped between feedings. This translates into feeding him, pumping an hour and a half later, cleaning the pump, feeding an hour and a half later, pumping an hour and a half later, cleaning the pump, feeding an hour and a half later…. you get the picture. Sleeping? No time for that anymore, I need to trick my body into thinking that I needed to produce more milk. It seemed to me that the harder I worked at it, the less my body produced. JJ’s latch started to suffer, because he was getting frustrated that I wasn’t satisfying him enough. Because his latch wasn’t good, breastfeeding became extremely painful, and I went to exclusively pumping, which meant even more work. It was exhausting and frustrating.
Exhausting and frustrating seemed like the only words I knew then.
It is for this very reason that I am writing this blog, in volumes no less, right now.
I don’t know if any of you are tired of hearing me talk about having a kid or not, and to that I say “Oh well!” I will continue to talk about it until it’s old to me, which may be never… or until our next one arrives in another seven to ten years. I don't know if there are any baby books written about any of this, because I pretty much despise reading. Meh.
Today I want to talk about something…. a little scary. I don’t even want to have a full-out conversation about it, I just want to type. I can’t recall anyone ever writing/blogging/ emailing/talking about how they FELT after having a baby. Sure, I’ve read plenty about the physical ailments (and there are plenty) after having a baby, but nothing about how a woman really feels, emotionally, about having a baby. I think the reason why I felt that my emotions were so incredible was because no one told me what I would be feeling or experiencing. I expected for everything to be normal again right away, only with a little less sleep and a cute baby to carry around. I was wrong, and part of that could be my fault for not being proactive about the situation and seeking out the answers to “what might be.”
First off, a “little” less sleep should have been translated into “zero” sleep. A newborn can eat every two hours, which JJ did. So I would get up, change him (at least ten minutes), feed him (which took 30 minutes), rock him back to sleep (sometimes up to 30 minutes) and go back to sleep myself (roughly ten to fifteen minutes). That left me with about 40 minutes of sleeping before he woke again to eat. Your body was designed to function on 6 to 8 CONSECUTIVE hours of sleep per night. Nothing can prepare you for the shock of sleeping only 40 minutes every two hours, and trust me… you don’t get used to it. Add this to the fact that your hormones are dancing a jig inside your brain – and it’s a recipe for instant psychosis.
The first two weeks I was a mess. Not only could I hardly move from the C-section, but I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I almost couldn’t function. I would be holding JJ while feeding or rocking him and start to cry uncontrollably. My tears dripped on his newborn face and I would wipe them off gently, focusing on the contours of his tiny nose and chin and cheeks… and start to cry harder. I was paralyzed by the thought about how lucky we were that he was here and healthy. It’s startling that you can love someone you’ve never met so much that you would give your life for his to be spared.
JJ got his first ear infection by his second week. You’ve never heard a baby cry like he did. Babies are difficult to soothe when they’re that little to begin with, but when you add sickness on top of that, soothing becomes impossible. Jerry and I rocked, sang to, talked to, and held JJ almost constantly for a solid two weeks. I slept while I held him. I peed while holding him. Jerry held him while I showered. It was the only thing that brought him any comfort and it was, like everything else, exhausting.
As JJ learned how to be a baby and I learned how to be a mom, the emotional roller coaster slowed down a bit. JJ started to sleep up to four hours a night (not consistently, but often) by week three and it was a very welcome relief. While my constant crying continued, I also became emotionally unstable over many little things. I would get wildly aggravated if there were dirty dishes in the sink, or if I got woken up by anything other than the baby (telephone, dog barking, Jerry kissing me goodnight – you name it.) I screamed and yelled and cried and threw temper tantrums. Now I know how two-year-olds feel when they haven’t napped. It isn’t pleasant. I became overly protective of the baby and called the pediatrician/newborn nursery several times in several weeks over little things (some of which weren’t so little – like the choking-on-and-sneezing-out spit-up at week two.) I had a hard time being physically away from him, even to take a shower. I was tethered to him; trapped like a hostage by my own child.
It was around week four that the breastfeeding became complicated. JJ needed more than I could produce, so I pumped between feedings. This translates into feeding him, pumping an hour and a half later, cleaning the pump, feeding an hour and a half later, pumping an hour and a half later, cleaning the pump, feeding an hour and a half later…. you get the picture. Sleeping? No time for that anymore, I need to trick my body into thinking that I needed to produce more milk. It seemed to me that the harder I worked at it, the less my body produced. JJ’s latch started to suffer, because he was getting frustrated that I wasn’t satisfying him enough. Because his latch wasn’t good, breastfeeding became extremely painful, and I went to exclusively pumping, which meant even more work. It was exhausting and frustrating.
Exhausting and frustrating seemed like the only words I knew then.
Monday
Peddling Hard and Going Nowhere
October 14, 2008? It seems that maybe October 2008 was the last time I was alive, according to this blog. It's been an absolutely amazing year, with both ups and downs, and I have not once blogged about any of it. Nothing. Not a word. Like it never existed.
With the birth of my first child (September 2009), I've realized that these days will fly by quickly and I better get them documented before they shrivel into the earth.
Let's back it up here - with my pregnancy this past year, I realized that as much as we wish time to go by faster, it will eventually go by and we look back and say "Why didn't I slow down a bit?" I'm thinking that about my pregnancy. It's been over for three months and I can't tell you everything about it anymore. I don't remember a great deal about it, actually. I only very vaguely remember JJ moving around inside me like it was some kind of dream - the very thing that was the most exciting about being pregnant in the first place. It's like your brain resets into nothing having to ever do with being pregnant. Strange but true, this may be nature's way of swindling women into having more children. If it weren't this way, the human race would quickly die out and we would never have the kind of entertainment that we have from shows like "Jon and Kate plus Eight" or "18 Kids and Counting." Heated debates over phenomenon such as "Octomom" would never exist. What a tragedy that would be.
So let's talk about JJ. He's an awesome kid. He's growing faster than I ever thought possible. I'm thinking that all of those childbirth classes were a waste of my time, because the things I need to know most were never offered. "Photographing Your Baby" or "Functioning on Two Hours of Sleep a Week" were convienently left off the list of must-take baby prep courses. What a jip.
On a more serious note, during the time that I was searching for classes to take on baby birthing/rearing/bathing/carrying, I never once saw a class on a few very important topics, such as Postpartum Depression or The Effects of A Baby on Your Marriage. I think that someone should step up to the plate and put these real world scenarios out there so that moms-to-be can be prepared. I wish I was more prepared. Since I'm not much of a reader (surprised?), baby books haven't been much help to me. I want to go to a class where I can ask questions, listen to people talk, and see examples. I'm a much more visual learner, and that can be detrimental when you have a child and are trying to learning everything about it.
Yep. I'm struggling a bit.
It's hard for moms to admit that they struggle. New moms even have a hard time calling themselves "Mom." It's such an adjustment to a new life that some days, I'm pretty sure that I don't know my own phone number. But I still try to do it all, which is another detrimental factor.
Why do moms try to hard to do everything themselves? It seems to me that every mom I talk to does the same thing. What on earth is wrong with us and why do we think this way? It's like getting on a bike in the middle of the ocean - the harder you work, the more you realize that you're not going anywhere. Pretty soon... you're going to get exhausted. Then what?
With the birth of my first child (September 2009), I've realized that these days will fly by quickly and I better get them documented before they shrivel into the earth.
Let's back it up here - with my pregnancy this past year, I realized that as much as we wish time to go by faster, it will eventually go by and we look back and say "Why didn't I slow down a bit?" I'm thinking that about my pregnancy. It's been over for three months and I can't tell you everything about it anymore. I don't remember a great deal about it, actually. I only very vaguely remember JJ moving around inside me like it was some kind of dream - the very thing that was the most exciting about being pregnant in the first place. It's like your brain resets into nothing having to ever do with being pregnant. Strange but true, this may be nature's way of swindling women into having more children. If it weren't this way, the human race would quickly die out and we would never have the kind of entertainment that we have from shows like "Jon and Kate plus Eight" or "18 Kids and Counting." Heated debates over phenomenon such as "Octomom" would never exist. What a tragedy that would be.
So let's talk about JJ. He's an awesome kid. He's growing faster than I ever thought possible. I'm thinking that all of those childbirth classes were a waste of my time, because the things I need to know most were never offered. "Photographing Your Baby" or "Functioning on Two Hours of Sleep a Week" were convienently left off the list of must-take baby prep courses. What a jip.
On a more serious note, during the time that I was searching for classes to take on baby birthing/rearing/bathing/carrying, I never once saw a class on a few very important topics, such as Postpartum Depression or The Effects of A Baby on Your Marriage. I think that someone should step up to the plate and put these real world scenarios out there so that moms-to-be can be prepared. I wish I was more prepared. Since I'm not much of a reader (surprised?), baby books haven't been much help to me. I want to go to a class where I can ask questions, listen to people talk, and see examples. I'm a much more visual learner, and that can be detrimental when you have a child and are trying to learning everything about it.
Yep. I'm struggling a bit.
It's hard for moms to admit that they struggle. New moms even have a hard time calling themselves "Mom." It's such an adjustment to a new life that some days, I'm pretty sure that I don't know my own phone number. But I still try to do it all, which is another detrimental factor.
Why do moms try to hard to do everything themselves? It seems to me that every mom I talk to does the same thing. What on earth is wrong with us and why do we think this way? It's like getting on a bike in the middle of the ocean - the harder you work, the more you realize that you're not going anywhere. Pretty soon... you're going to get exhausted. Then what?
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