Child Of Nature

I'm working on the birth story, I swear, but in the meantime, I just wanted to make note of what's been going on the last couple days. Going backwards, since my brain may or may not make it back two days.

Andrea came by today to do Mr. A's newborn screening stuff, including the PKU test that requires a heel stick. Generally just one stick, but because he's got his mother's thick Nordic blood, it took three jabs to get all the samples she needed. He was understandably pissed off about the whole deal, but handled it pretty well and settled quickly into a defensive nap when it was done. That gave us time to talk about how things were going and get some clarification on birth details that we hadn't absorbed at the time. (I don't want to spoil the birth story, but the words "long arc rotation" came up.) We also talked about the general amazement that comes from a natural, non-interventionist birth. I don't discredit the amazement of any birth, but there's something incomparable about trusting your body and the baby's inherent needs to get through a process that seems, from a logical standpoint, nearly impossible.

Andrea also admitted that, when she examined me at my first non-stress test, she was concerned about A's position. My OB had reported that he was at -1 station, but she could still plainly feel him floating around, and that made her worry that he was moving so much he might be getting tangled in the cord. She also saw some vaariables on the monitor that made her suspect the same thing. So when things occurred the way they did during labor, she was prepared and supportive and allowed for the time we needed to make things work. (Yep, just building more suspense for the full birth story.)

Anyway, after all that chatting and a discussion with my mom about their mutual love of Arabian horses, Andrea was on her way. A has been nursing and resting his sore little foot ever since, while the rest of us are gearing up to see Pops, who is making yet another voyage to see us, this time coming upriver from New Orleans to spend about 30 hours in town just to see his grandson.

Other than that, not much else of outside interest to report. Much sleeping, some crying, a general dissatisfaction with the non-tube digestive process that resulted in a 3am half-dose of Gripe Water (that stuff really works; good thing I know where to get some). Sleep has been decent, but I'm not taking these first couple days as any clear indicator of future behavior. Nursing is ... going. After nearly three years of nursing and four years of breastfeeding support groups, I of course expected to be Queen Nurser of Boobville, but apparently the boy has plans to undermine me. His latch is pretty amateurish and every feeding is a struggle to get both of his hands away from his face and his mouth positioned correctly, which takes about two more hands than I was endowed with.

Speaking of needing more hands, Cha Cha was just blessed with a pooped out diaper, so I should probably go help with that. Or at least stand by helpfully and point to the wet wipes.