Hannah's Birth Story- Part Dos
So this may have to be a really quick post because one never really knows how long their kid is going to be entertained by being rocked back and forth in a Sleep and Play rocker with their mom's foot. However, on the other hand, this could be a rather lengthy post because Hannah sure seems to like it. Only time will tell, I guess! :)
I just wanted to fill you all in/document for future reference the goings-on in the hospital after Hannah graced us with her presence.
After being scooted onto a portable bed with the help of a male nurse and my handy husband (not being able to fully move one of my legs from the epidural didn't help my ability to move myself), we were escorted to our 'recovery' room. Awesome.
Hannah got her bath and her tests done and she was coined 'an over-achiever' by the folks in the nursery. My little girl sure can rock through her tests, apparently.
Well, that glory lasted only a short while because we found out that she wouldn't nurse. And for the record, it's not like I blame her. If I just got squeezed out a itty bity hole, I wouldn't want to do anything but sleep, too. However, the hospital folks were really concerned about her blood sugar, and so the heel poking began. And then the stress began.
Pretty soon, Hannah was being subjected to virtually every feeding device under the sun. Seriously. The nurses tried to get her to suck on my breast, and it was still a no-go. Binkie? Nope. Bottle? Nah. Finger? Sorta. Spoon? Sure. SNS (Supplemental Nursing System)? Okay, fine.
My poor little girl. No wonder she got so confused and wouldn't nurse. Now, don't get me wrong. The hospital staff was only doing what they had to and they were only concerned about Hannah's well being. With the exception of the first nurse I had, they were all super nice and patient with both Hannah and myself. We won't go into any great detail about Nurse #1, but let's just say that I would have been better off detaching my boobie from my body and handing it over to her since she was determined to take over anyway. And I know I sure didn't appreciate her exasperated groans every 2 seconds whenever Hannah would latch on but refuse to suck, so I'm sure my baby girl didn't appreciate it, either.
Hannah would finally get some formula in her belly due to some insane method and then spit it all up again. For hours and hours, it seemed.
I was soon a blubbering, exhausted, stinky mess and my poor husband was doing everything in his power to console me and keep us both upbeat and hopeful. It's hard to stay motivated when the nurses hand over your kid and virtually say, "Good luck. Let us know if you get her to eat anything because we've tried it all and have no more tricks up our sleeve." Like, literally, guys. It was bad.
Her blood sugar would be low at one testing, and then just fine at the next testing. I think it bounced back and forth like that a couple of times, and by this point, she had developed a case of jaundice requiring her to hang out in a Bilibed for every second she wasn't feeding or being changed.
Hannah HATED that thing. No joke. Holy-Bilibed-from-you-know-where. I think some of her aversion was due to the fact that she would spit up every time she had to lay on her back. Her belly and the Bilibed weren't exactly the closest allies.
On Thursday morning {the day we were supposed to go home}, the nurse came in from the nursery to bring Hannah in to try and nurse. She explained that she let us sleep an extra hour because Hannah had been spitting up an insane amount for the past 3 or so hours.
Oh, okay.
Good morning to you, too!
Hannah's mouth was as dry as cotton and she just wasn't lookin' too good. We still couldn't get her to nurse (or suck on anything for that matter), so in desperation, Chuck and I ended up spooning a little bit of formula into her mouth with a plastic spoon. See the spoon in this picture?
Yup.
'Tis not from mamma's applesauce.
At this point, I asked if they would consider switching her formula to a 'sensitive' mixture, and they said that they would try and feed her a bottle of it in the nursery. A few minutes later, I was taking a potty break when I heard the nurse come in and start talking to Chuck. Apparently Hannah had sucked down a bottle of the formula like a vacuum cleaner, and kept it in her belly this time. We were SO relieved!
A couple hours later, Hannah was willing to try nursing on my boobie, but long story short, she could only do so with the help of a nipple shield and the SNS tube/syringe. Her blood sugar had stabilized and she was 'nursing' tolerably well, and so we ended up being able to go home later that day, after all.
What a relief!
I think that's plenty of intell for right now, don't you? I'll probably end up concocting yet another nail-biting "Birth Story" edition, so keep checking back, ya'll.
You know you want to. ;)
I just wanted to fill you all in/document for future reference the goings-on in the hospital after Hannah graced us with her presence.
After being scooted onto a portable bed with the help of a male nurse and my handy husband (not being able to fully move one of my legs from the epidural didn't help my ability to move myself), we were escorted to our 'recovery' room. Awesome.
Hannah got her bath and her tests done and she was coined 'an over-achiever' by the folks in the nursery. My little girl sure can rock through her tests, apparently.
Well, that glory lasted only a short while because we found out that she wouldn't nurse. And for the record, it's not like I blame her. If I just got squeezed out a itty bity hole, I wouldn't want to do anything but sleep, too. However, the hospital folks were really concerned about her blood sugar, and so the heel poking began. And then the stress began.
Pretty soon, Hannah was being subjected to virtually every feeding device under the sun. Seriously. The nurses tried to get her to suck on my breast, and it was still a no-go. Binkie? Nope. Bottle? Nah. Finger? Sorta. Spoon? Sure. SNS (Supplemental Nursing System)? Okay, fine.
My poor little girl. No wonder she got so confused and wouldn't nurse. Now, don't get me wrong. The hospital staff was only doing what they had to and they were only concerned about Hannah's well being. With the exception of the first nurse I had, they were all super nice and patient with both Hannah and myself. We won't go into any great detail about Nurse #1, but let's just say that I would have been better off detaching my boobie from my body and handing it over to her since she was determined to take over anyway. And I know I sure didn't appreciate her exasperated groans every 2 seconds whenever Hannah would latch on but refuse to suck, so I'm sure my baby girl didn't appreciate it, either.
Hannah would finally get some formula in her belly due to some insane method and then spit it all up again. For hours and hours, it seemed.
I was soon a blubbering, exhausted, stinky mess and my poor husband was doing everything in his power to console me and keep us both upbeat and hopeful. It's hard to stay motivated when the nurses hand over your kid and virtually say, "Good luck. Let us know if you get her to eat anything because we've tried it all and have no more tricks up our sleeve." Like, literally, guys. It was bad.
Her blood sugar would be low at one testing, and then just fine at the next testing. I think it bounced back and forth like that a couple of times, and by this point, she had developed a case of jaundice requiring her to hang out in a Bilibed for every second she wasn't feeding or being changed.
Hannah HATED that thing. No joke. Holy-Bilibed-from-you-know-where. I think some of her aversion was due to the fact that she would spit up every time she had to lay on her back. Her belly and the Bilibed weren't exactly the closest allies.
On Thursday morning {the day we were supposed to go home}, the nurse came in from the nursery to bring Hannah in to try and nurse. She explained that she let us sleep an extra hour because Hannah had been spitting up an insane amount for the past 3 or so hours.
Oh, okay.
Good morning to you, too!
Hannah's mouth was as dry as cotton and she just wasn't lookin' too good. We still couldn't get her to nurse (or suck on anything for that matter), so in desperation, Chuck and I ended up spooning a little bit of formula into her mouth with a plastic spoon. See the spoon in this picture?
Yup.
'Tis not from mamma's applesauce.
At this point, I asked if they would consider switching her formula to a 'sensitive' mixture, and they said that they would try and feed her a bottle of it in the nursery. A few minutes later, I was taking a potty break when I heard the nurse come in and start talking to Chuck. Apparently Hannah had sucked down a bottle of the formula like a vacuum cleaner, and kept it in her belly this time. We were SO relieved!
A couple hours later, Hannah was willing to try nursing on my boobie, but long story short, she could only do so with the help of a nipple shield and the SNS tube/syringe. Her blood sugar had stabilized and she was 'nursing' tolerably well, and so we ended up being able to go home later that day, after all.
What a relief!
I think that's plenty of intell for right now, don't you? I'll probably end up concocting yet another nail-biting "Birth Story" edition, so keep checking back, ya'll.
You know you want to. ;)
Hilarious. :) As per always.
ReplyDeleteALso, I had to use a nursing shield too, and I wouldn't have it any other way, anyway. :) IN the end, I just used it every time! It really protected me from too much of the bleeding nipples terror that is breastfeeding. They're great! :)