Motherly Love

How could I have ever predicted that I would fall head over heels in love with my daughter? People warned me, but I had my own ideas of what it would feel like. Pre-baby, I guess I imagined that Motherhood would exibit itself in different ways... such as thinking Kaia was adorable and irresistable and that I needed to feel responsible for her in terms of protecting her and raising her well.
I absolutely believe she is adorable and irresistable. And while I want to protect her, I never imagined that the NEED to do so was so innate, so primative and so deep. It's not what I would call a "responsibility"; rather, it's an instinct and it's impossible to quell. Suddently, walking down steps causes me to think "What if Kaia were in my arms and I tripped? How could I position myself so that she could break her landing by falling on me instead of the hard ground? Would I be able to react soon enough? If she got hurt, could I maintain my cool while I helped her?". My mind has created terrible and instant versions of situations in which Kaia could be harmed...these imagined moments stop the breath in my body and take me minutes to recover from. I think "How could I go on?" if something were to happen to her. I do not believe I am an overly protective Mother...however, I've been shocked at just how overwhelming the need to protect my child has been...whether it's comforting her when she cries, not allowing her to sit in a soiled diaper too long, or holding her tightly when I descend stairs. Alas, these past 15 weeks have proven to be ones in which Kaia has been thankfully safe and sound.
So, I never thought that loving my daughter would feel this way either. I mean, it's LOVE. Serious love. Like, "who cares if I'm entirely exausted and have spit up and poop stains on my clothes and have awakened 10 times in an hour to put your binky back in and can't seem to finish one task without tending to you and have listened to you wail at unnerving decibals for an unnerving 45 minutes on our drive across down and at the end of the day still am reduced to happy giddy bliss by your mere smile or the smell of your hair or the smoothness of your skin or the warmth and security of your snoozing body against mine" type of love. Oh, I forgot the "now I wear flip-flops and don't even care and experienced life without makeup for 5 weeks straight and have gotten to where I actually understand your goo-goo-ga-ga's and prefer them to plain English" type of love. I guess mostly it's a truly tender, bittersweet love that floors me. It is overflowing. Tenderness isn't something that ever came easy to me. But when that squiggly almost 7 pounder emerged from my body, I suddenly became tender. Nurturing and patient (OK, so maybe only with her).
Lately, I've been pathetically anxious and dreadfully in denial about returning to work on October 24th. I cannot fathom a life other than that in which I've been living for 15 weeks with Kaia. One in which she does not leave my side. A life in which I can decipher her cries. I suspect that most Mom's go through days in which they cannot wait to put their child down for a nap. I know I do! Finally, some time alone all to yourself. Some time to relax. Or perhaps time to pick your puked-on clothes up from the spot in which you dropped them week only to find they've begun to grow some kind of mold (yep, it can happen). Some time to comtemplate your next meal when you suddenly recall that you didn't eat breakfast and that lunch was skipped due to a spontaneous nursing session. But ya know what's strange? I cannot wait to come to the rescue of that waking babe, to cradle her in my arms as she struggles to adjust her eyes to the light. I call out to her "Mama's coming!" and snatch her up into the crook of my neck as as I smother her chubby cheeks in kisses. She smiles because she knows me....because I know her...because leftover milk in her mouth is gonna find it's way onto my shoulder at any minute...and I won't mind a bit. I'll keep on bein' her Mama, believing that she's really truly vocalizing the phrase "I love you" when she is whiny and tired, and that she'll change the world someday, and that she's the cutest patootie around. Meanwhile, she'll keep stealing my heart and reminding me that Motherhood is the greatest, most gravity defying love on Earth.
I believe Kaia has always existed and lived within me and that she has just recently come to me in the form of a child so that I could experience true love with all my senses. "I have existed from the morning of the world and I shall exist until the last star falls from the night." -from "Caligula"

Pneumonia is Pneu Fun!

(The photo shows me on the first day I felt really sick. Awful!)

I have a sneaking suspicion that this blog will consist of more than one entry...okay, wait, it's not even really "sneaking". This suspicion is all out in the open, announcing it's presence like a college roomate walking into your shared dorm room at 3 am after a night of partying. Know what I mean? Another admission about this story: in the wake of all the sadness and devestation in our world, this entry is going to sound PATHETIC, I tell ya. But I have to get it out.
Last night, at 2:30 am, admid the bit surprising heat of the desert, we arrived home after four weeks on the road in our RV. Four weeks with our baby. Four weeks with our yellow Lab. Four weeks of sleeping in different beds. Four weeks of filling up on record-setting priced gas every few hours. Four weeks of dealing with Pneumonia! When we set out on the road, I was sick. Really sick. But I thought I just had some nasty bug I'd get over. Turns out, I'd end up in the hospital for two nights in Dodgeville, Wisconsin on our last week of vacation with a massive case of Pneumonia has apparantly been hangin' out in my lungs since the birth of Kaia. (!!!) For me, here's what Pneumonia on the road looked like: lots of moaning, not being able to sit up for extended periods of time (i.e. only for nursing my baby), inability to even lift my arms (except to nurse my baby), a dry, deep cough, round the clock fever, night sweats, loss of appetite, Jason doing everything in his power to take care of our baby because I just couldn't...well, it doesn't really matter anymore. But it sucked. I finally went to a Dr. in my Dad's hometown of Warrenton, Missouri. Not having a clue as to what I had, the Dr. said "Oh yes, you have congestion in your chest". I was put on a 10 day round of Amoxicillin. I also sported a lovely fever blister. Due to this intruder, I was told not to kiss my baby until it cleared up. Have you ever had to "not kiss your baby"? Terrible. Barely possible.
After the Amoxicillin, I still didn't feel better. I checked myself into another Dr. in Jason's Dad's hometown of Charlestown, Indiana. After listening to my lungs, asking tons of questions, concerned looks and furrowed brows, the Dr. sent me to the hospital to get chest X-rays. "It could be many things", he said. " It could be a collapsed lung." "What??!! And I wouldn't know it??", I asked scared and flabbergasted. "Not nessasarily". I admit I was a quite relieved to find out it was "only" Pneumonia. A pretty nasty case of it in my left lung. This time, I was put on a 5 day round of Zithromax. We headed to Spring Green, Wisconsin, our last stop on the journey before we headed home. After four days at Taliesin, I knew something wasn't right. I still coughed. And it started to hurt in my chest. I woke Jason up at 9 am on Thursday and said "I need to go to the ER". Anyone who has read my blogs clearly knows about my aversion to hospitals. After Kaia's birth, I vowed I never wanted to step foot into another one. But I knew in my soul that it was where I must be. And I knew that I'd be staying. I had a premonition of sorts a week or so early...I was tied to IV's, not able to nurse my baby. And when I woke this Thursday, I knew I had to surrender to it.
Dodgeville is one tiny town in Wisconsin. Their ER admitted me immediatly and I was greeted my a kind male nurse. Right away, a nightmarish amount of testing began and I struggled to resign to them all. I abhor blood draws, and must lay down to avoid passing out. I must breath deeply and consciously block out any conversation going on during this time. I cry every time. Jason holds my hand and tells me it's gonna be alright. I almost hyperventilated when they had to insert the IV. I surived the scariness (albeit painless, thank goodness) of an EKG and CT scan and multiple chest x-rays. I even managed to get through a very painful arterial blood draw (although much crying accompanied it). But the time I bawled the most, the time I just didn't think I could get through one more moment was when they said I'd have to pump-n-dump and formula feed my baby for at least 48 hours. I freaked out. This was not my plan. Although this moment appeared in my premonition, I had dreaded it. I did not want to give up this intensly personal, profound, wonderful act of nursing my baby. The nurse stared at me in a combination of confusion, sympathy, and craziness as I wailed, muttered to Jason, flailed in the hospital bed, and choked on tears as I struggled to breath through the ball of Pneumonia in my lungs. The nurse silently left the room and in a few moments later the gentle, female Dr. appeared. She tried to talk me down. I had more resigning to do.
That first day was tough. Being tethered to an IV in the middle of my arm(which administered round the clock antibiotics and saline solution) restricted my ability to even hold my baby. Not only could I not nurse her, I really couldn't even bottle feed her or hold her or change her diaper. Of course, I am terrified of IV's in my arm, so I am extra cautious and careful. I envision it ripping out and blooding spewing all of the room (I know, I know, I'm insane). As I watched Jason feed Kaia her first bottle of formula, I again broke down in tears. "I should be the one feeding her...I should be holding her and gazing in her eyes...that's my job". As trivial as it may sound to others, it was heart-wrenching to me. I felt robbed. I felt out of control. I felt so very alone. I felt vulnerable and so terribly exausted. Jason is an amazing Dad and took care of our little girl like a pro. He slept in my room along with our baby and did everything in his power to love, love, love me. Dang, I am so lucky.
Another Dr. had stopped by around 10 pm that night to check on me and try to assess my case. The Dr's were really concerned as to how I contracted this and why it had held on for weeks admid rounds of antibiotics. They each asked questions, many about my birth. They concluded that I had aspirated a bit of the vomit (yum) during my labor and that it had settled in my lungs and caused this infection. Apparantly, my body must have tried like hell to fight it off, as I didn't get my first true "bang me over the head" symptom until 8 weeks postpartum.
I couldn't sleep that first night. I felt those same waves of disspointment that came over me after Kaia's birth. Why couldn't I take care of myself? Why didn't my body fight this off? Was I a bad Mom? My body felt so invaded with all the testing, and check ups, and routine breathing treatments, and unexpected blood draws that sent me into fits. At 3 am, when the nurse came to check my vitals, I told her I couldn't sleep and could I please get something very mild to help? She brought in Robitussin, which I politely declined since cough syrup makes me naseous and dizzy for 24 hours. Not exactly the relief I was looking for. I slept a few hours here and there and kept waking up suddenly with the thought of my IV coming out of my arm. The next morning, another Dr. consulted me. They were still concerned and kept encouraging me to try and "cough something up" so they could culture it to find the exact right antiobiotic to treat it. If I couldn't do this by the weekend, they make have to cut me open and scrape stuff from my lungs. When I heard this, let my head, arms, and tears fall. I held Jason's hand and babbled about how I couldn't do this anymore, I wanted to get better, I was so very scared.
My fate began to turn later that afternoon when the nurse said the Dr. had agreed I could get the tether line to my IV removed. Although the IV would have to remain, I would only need to be hooked up when antiobiotics needed to be administered once a day. I smiled for the first time. "You are my hero" I claimed as they removed the IV line. They also moved us to another room right after this. As I sat in my new bed, freed from the IV tether, I summoned Jason to bring Kaia over. I gently laid her on my knees and wept. I smiled and talked to my baby, told her how much I loved her and how I had missed her SO much in just these past 24 hours. I told her she had grown and that I was gonna get better for her. She smiled and laughed and talked to me and looked curiously at the tears streaming down my face. I felt like I was meeting her for the very first time. I cannot describe the overwhelming happiness. The blood now flowed in my arms out of sheer joy. I held her and changed her and fed her from the bottle (apologizing the entire time and reassuring her that Mama's milk would be back on the way soon). It was a new day!
I slept soundly that night and dreamed of my baby. The next day, the Dr. came with great news that I was indeed getting better and stronger. The antiobiotic was working and they felt confident about releasing me, although I'd be on a 11 day oral antiobiotic. I still had to get well and strong. With the Dr's agreement, I happily nursed my baby that night in a hotel room after being discharged. I felt like I could have nursed her all night. Man, how I missed it.
We are now home, after driving the 30 hour journey in about 40 hours total. Jason is a master long-haul driver and I am immensly thankful for his resolve and his ability to have NEVER complained once during the entire four week adventure. I have much, much to learn from him.
Settling on my couch to nurse my daughter after we arrived, I saw her look around and smile. She knew we were home. Jason and I, our baby, our dog and our cat all slept sounding in our tiny room last night.
While our "vacation" was anything but, I am once again faced with numerous lessons in patience, humility, parenthood, love, family, will-power, and surrendering. It was one tough adventure. I am looking forward to being a "Mom" again, without this infection. While I feel 90% better, I know that there's still that 10% in which I must take time to help heal. And for someone who had never been really sick in my life, I no longer take my health for granted. And now, I REALLY understand the quote I mentioned a few posts back:
" It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children."
I've been there. I've done that. And the emotion and experience never leave you.

Musings and (recent) Memories

So, this post doesn't have any moral to it besides "Writing Things Down Can Help You Remember Cute Things in the Future". Pretty boring, eh? Kaia, now that you have been part of our lives for seven weeks, I figured it would behoove me (and you someday) to take note of some of your sweet and unique mannerisms and personality traits.
**Like Mama, you love to have a rouge foot peeking out of the covers when you sleep
**You tug on your ear and rub your eyes when you are tired
**You curl your tiny fists up by your face to help you fall asleep (see photo above).
**Sleeping on your side is your number one preference. Unlessl tricked to do so, you won't fall asleep on your back.
**Mama knows one of the only positions in which she can hold you that lulls you to sleep. Curled like a bean on it's side, laying on the left side of my chest, with a blanket wrapped around you and your warm body cuddled very close to mine. You almost always must have your "binky". I pull it out when you fall fast asleep.
**"Kaia, Kaia Little Star" is your favorite lullaby. Mama recently learned there are 5 more lyrics and is trying to memorize them for you. There are some days in which I sing the first verse dozens of times until you drift to sleep.
**You also like "It's a Small World", "Hush Little Baby", and "Rock-a-Bye Baby". Mama made up one verse to a song just for you: "Kaia Marin, of the Earth and of the Sea, Kaia Marin you are beautiful to me. You're Mama's little girl, and you rock Daddy's world, Kaia Marin you are beautiful to me". Also, as a throwback to my Catholic school days, I've slightly modified a church song for you and it speaks volumes about your gentle and bright heart: "Gentle Kaia, quiet light, morning star so strong and bright. Gentle Kaia, peaceful dove, teach us wisdom, teach us love".
**Your "play gym" is your newest favorite toy. Laying on your back (one of the only times you'll tolerate that!) you bat at the colorful toys and talk to Mama and Dadda. You smile and coo and laugh.
**"Goodnight Moon" is the book that calms you and sometimes helps nudge you to napland. I've memorized almost every page. You gaze at the pictures and listen to the rhythm of Mama's voice and the words of the story.
**You absolutely despise getting strapped into your carseat. Early on, Daddy learned that swiftly picking it up and swinging you around helps to calm you down.
**Car rides are something you love. However, you DO NOT like for the car to stop. When it does, you break out in your loudest, most pathetic cry and usually don't stop until we find some bumps in the road to calm you. You have, at times, cried for 15-20 minutes non-stop and have lost your cute voice because of it. Your little fuzzy head turns red by your wailing and it's so sad for Mama and Daddy because we can't do anything to help you. We seem to always seek out the speed bumps and potholes just for you. We found out this weekend that you prefer riding in the bumpy Jeep!
**From day one, you have been a "spitty-uppy" baby. We must burp you every single time and one, or even two burps, is not enough. We must wiggle and pat you until you let out an adult-sized burp, which is almost always accompanied with spit up. Sometimes, you seem to spit up half your meal! We have changed many an outfit because of your talent in this arena. Daddy has the magic touch when it comes to burping you...he hikes you high over his shoulder and in no time you produce a big one!
**You really don't like having your diaper changed, but boy oh boy, you love naked time!
**Bath time is your number one favorite thing to induldge in. Mom and Dad take you in the shower with them and hold your naked body to theirs as the water gently falls on you. Sometimes, we dance around and sing the "Shower Pokey". Because of one of the early photos Daddy captioned for you, we call bathtime by the same title of that caption: "Soft Warm Sprinkles". During bathtime, you don't mind when the water runs down your face and eyes, and you reach your searching tongue out to taste the water. You never cry...until we take you out to dry you off!
**Your favorite, happy time is around 7 or 8 in the morning. This is when we play together!
**This weekend, you projectile-vomited all over Daddy at the Casino in Prescott. We were there to listen to Uncle Josh play in his big band and you had been very upset. I handed you to Daddy and within a few moments, you unleased a fury of breastmilk with unbelievable force onto Dad. It soaked him all the way into his shorts! Aunt Shawna said it was an "Exorcist Moment". We felt so sorry for you, but it didn't seem to bother you in the least. You felt so much better afterwards!
**You definately got your "Diva" from your Mama! I just hope that you don't hold your breath like I did!
**On good days, you stay on an approx. 3 - 3.5 hour feeding schedule. On not so good days, you want to eat every 2 hours, even at night. This is tough on Mama!
**Once you are down for a nap or nitey-nite, you sleep so soundly. Even your JP dog's bark, or a vaccuum, doesn't phase you. Sometimes you'll sleep 4 - 6 hours at a time for us!
**To help calm you down to sleep after your early morning feeding, we sometimes let you sleep between Mom and Dad. You almost immediatly fall asleep like this. Who can blame you? I think all humans like cuddling and snoozing next to the warmth of another. Many times, Daddy puts his arm over you and I position my nose close to your forehead so you can feel my breathing. Sleeping with you is a treat to us too!
**Some of your nicknames: Babinski, Binski, Bobo (Dad's nickname for you), Morning Star, Stinky, Lover, Cry-a (when you cry!!).
**You cry real tears now and it breaks Mama's heart. I quickly kiss them off your face and can taste the salt.
**Also this weekend, you pooped all over Mama while I was feeding you in the RV in Prescott. It was such a mess that me and you and Dad hopped directly into the shower together!
**Below are Daddy's specific contributions: You prefer to see who is holding holding you and you like sitting up straight or lying slightly reclined on someone's knees.
**When you are really mad or cranky, you kick your strong legs in protest. Diva!
**During diaper changes, or when lying on your back to play, your legs and feet always reach out to touch something.
**When you are just about ready to eat, you start your "fake cough". This means you are about out of patience and it is so very cute. It's your special way of communicating with us. I think your cousin Liam taught you this.
**Since you were born, Daddy's blanket swaddling is a sure trick to get you to sleep. You fight it at first, but soon thereafter you are just a little head peeking from a blanket with tired, tired eyes.

Kaia, we can't wait to see you grow and learn and love. And of course, this list will continue to grow right along with you.