Our hospital stay with Greg was phenomenal. The staff practically anticipated my every want and willingly took Greg back to the nursery at night in between feedings, ensuring that I would get some sleep. The second night, James slept at home so that at least one of us would be well-rested. While we were happy to be able to take our baby boy home on Thursday afternoon, it wasn't like we were absolutely DYING to leave.
So, we went home (after stopping by the Lactation Store to rent a breast pump, because His Lordship was having latching issues), Greg and I went to sleep, and James went to pick up Simon from the kennel. We ordered Chinese for dinner, and everything seemed wonderful as we gazed at our sleeping son. Susanna was still at my parents house, because my mother had wisely suggested that we have at least one night alone with Greg before picking her up. That was a good idea.
As last as 10pm on Thursday night, James and I felt so good that we were actually considering going to a birthday party on Saturday (for the son of our good friends; he was turning one). That feeling didn't last long. That night was...night with a newborn. Greg is a noisy sleeper, so he kept waking us up (even after we transferred him to the crib in his room). Then, he would do the typical newborn thing and wake up every two or three hours to eat. Nursing was still a challenge, and I was pumping after every feeding to build my milk supply. By morning, all three of us were exhausted. And Greg hadn't done #1 or #2 since his circumcision early Thursday morning.
Our plan for that day was sleep as much as possible in between feed ings. The first wrinkle occurred when the pediatrician's office called around 10:30 am to check on things. They were concerned that Greg had only peed once in 24 hours, so they asked us to come in that afternoon at 1pm. No problem; that gave us time for naps, showers, and lunch. The nap got tossed to the side when they called back twenty minutes later and asked us to stop by the hospital first to get Greg's bilirubin and electrolyte levels checked. Since the hospital is on the other side of town from the pedi's office, that meant we had to leave the hospital by 12:40, which meant we really needed to get there by noon to get everything done, which meant we had to leave the house by 11:40. It was almost 11am. Neither of us, of course, were dressed. James and I quickly took showers, packed the diaper bag, and I pumped as quickly as possible. Neither of us had lunch, because we didn't have time.
The hospital was a ridiculous experience, from the lack of parking spaces (it took James 15 minutes to find one, on the other side of creation), to the staff members who continually asked me, "is he (Greg) here as a patient? Because you know children aren't allowed..." to the receptionist who didn't understand why I didn't have written orders and to the waiting for the actual tests. I bought myself and James some fruit and bottled waters from a cart in the lobby.
We pulled into the pedi's office on two wheels at about 1:15. Greg was crying for many reasons (hunger, his foot had been pricked, and because he was a newborn) and James and I were about to kill each other (not for anything the other had done, just from exhaustion and hunger). There was good news and bad news. The good news was that Greg's bilirubin levels were not high enough to warrant treatment (meaning returning to the hospital). The bad news was that he had lost a total of 12 oz since birth AND was showing early signs of dehydration. The electrolyte results hadn't come in yet, but the doctor didn't think those would be a problem. But basically, our mission for the next 48-72 hours was to get as much food into the kid as possible. The doc outlined a few "what-if" scenarios and what to do (having the on-call doc paged to taking him to the emergency room) that sort of scared me. They ordered me to supplement after nursing either with my own milk and/or formula. We set another appointment for Monday. Mom volunteered to keep Susanna one more night, and I willingly accepted. I missed her, but I was just. so. tired. and overwhelmed.
We got home around 2:30 or so, ate lunch, and I began the nurse/pump/syringe feed ritual. We got Greg down for a nap, James went to sleep, and I was just about to go to sleep myself when...my phone rang. It was the doctor's office. Apparently the morons at the hospital hadn't drawn enough blood to test Greg's electrolytes, so the test had to be done again. I flatly refused to go back to the hospital and asked where else we could go to get the test done. The nurse conferred with someone and said, "oh, you can get it done at the lab at our main office" which is closer than the hospital and has a MUCH LARGER PARKING LOT. Plus, there's less red tape there. Why couldn't we have gone there first? Don't ask.
So, off to the lab we went, where Greg got his heel stuck for a second time. By the time we arrived home, my mother-in-law had arrived at the house. Now I love my MIL dearly and normally am happy to see her. However, I think Jesus could have been waiting in my driveway and my reception would have been lukewarm (probably not, but you get my point). I just wanted to sleep. Screw dinner, screw being a good hostess, I just wanted to sleep and maybe cry a little bit (because I was less than 60 hours postpartum, after all). I hugged Nina, looked at the presents she had brought, thanked her (I think I did, anyway), pumped, threw Greg at them, and went to sleep. A few hours later I woke up and there was a message on my phone from the doctor. Greg's electrolyte levels were normal, thank the Lord.
Friday night was exhausting. Thankfully my milk had come in that morning, so I was able to supplement with my own pumped milk and avoid formula (not that it would have been horrible if I had to use formula, but I preferred to give him my own milk if I could). I was trying to avoid nipple confusion, so I'd nurse him, pump, and then give him about 1 oz of pumped milk via syringe/finger. This was lengthy, exhausting, and had limited success, because half of the milk wound up on Greg and myself rather than in his stomach, where it needed to be. After several rounds of this, I had had enough. I broke out the box of three Medela bottles and nipples that I had bought and began giving Greg the extra milk in bottles. I decided that I'd rather deal with nipple confusion than have Greg under special lights or hooked up to an IV.
So, that's how the next 48 hours went. Thankfully, my milk supply kept increasing, and I was able to begin saving milk in the fridge and even freezing it. Because he was eating more, Greg began (cough) producing lovely diapers. When we saw the doctor on Monday, he had gained five ounces, and the doctor told us we could stop supplementing. At his two week checkup, he was almost at his birth weight. By six weeks, he was a full pound above his birth weight.
We picked up Susanna on Saturday morning and she ignored Greg for the first 24 hours or so. However, Sunday night she suddenly starting paying attention to him and talking to him. It was precious. For the first three or so months of Greg's life, she referred to him as "day-day", which I guess meant "baby" in Susanna speech. Now she calls him "Greg" or "Greggie" and she tells me that he's her best friend.
As "rough" as those first 72 hours were (I put that in quotation marks because it's not like Greg was ever in real danger), I was immensely thankful that for a vigilant pediatric practice, excellent lactation support, and parents who live less than 20 miles away. I think James said it best on his Face*book page the day after Greg's birth: "Having a baby in Chesapeake is way cooler than having one in Danville." Amen.
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