Category: Uncategorized

Sorry it’s been so long, long, long since I’ve posted! Nothing major has come up, I promise. It’s just life being life, I guess, along with each day seemingly passing faster than the last.

One of my friends just asked me how the events of last week impacted me now that I have a child. I recounted the complete strangeness of last Tuesday: looking at the television in horror and sorrow, then looking down at my amazing new son, whom I can’t help but smile at. All I could do was pray, which is pretty much all I’ve been able to do since he’s been here anyway.

On a lighter note, we’re headed squarely into 6-week growth-spurt land. He’s eating like a madman, and every time I look at him, I swear that he looks bigger!

The frustrating part is that every time my breastmilk supply is about to catch up with him and we are barely using any formula supplements, he hits a growth spurt and I’m back playing “catch-up.” But I’m trying not to let it get me down. I mean, thank goodness formula exists for inept mothers like me!

Another big milestone: Yesterday, both Tim and I got smiled at. For real! They’re genuine, ‘Hey! I know you and I think you’re funny!’ smiles! And he is a stunner, thank you.

He is losing the hair on the top of his head, though, bringing him dangerously close to being mistaken for Ed Asner. But the books say that they don’t keep their newborn hair forever. I’m just hoping he regrows it faster than I did as a baby. My brother called me Kojack until I was 2. I always did like suckers…

I go to my doctor’s this week for the dreaded six-week postpartum checkup. It’s not all that dreaded, actually, because I feel absolutely great. I even tried on some prepreggo jeans yesterday for grins, but I’m not quite there yet. It will be interesting to see how much of the 29 and a half pounds that I gained during the pregnancy is gone.

Other random notes: I love this weather! Autumn is my all-time favorite season. We’ve been going outside a lot, spending evenings at the coffeehouse, going to friends’ houses for barbecues, etc. We even had to go out and buy some warm clothes for August! I thought he’d be out of his newborn stuff by the time the weather got cold.

He’s up to almost nine pounds now, for those of you keeping track at home. Tim wants to see how long he is, too, because he’s absolutely exploded, growth-wise.

I apologize for the unorganized babbling, folks. To tell you the truth, everything just has to come out stream-of-consciousness because you never know when your free time is about to end…

One favor: Can you take a minute and say a little prayer for peace for us? I really don’t want August to have to worry about all of this, to grow up in a country at war, to possibly be drafted some day. One thing I’m overwhelmed by in all of this is everyone’s reaching out to total strangers, eager to share what they have. This isn’t a time to be angry or vengeful. It’s a time for sorrow and more than a little hope that tomorrow will be better. Thanks.

It is amazing how hard it is to get online for more than five minutes when you have a baby.

I mean, there’s no time for anything! I haven’t yet showered today! Ew, but true.

Things are going great with August, thanks for asking. He was up to seven pounds, six ounces last Friday morning, which pleased the doc and amazed me. He’s getting bigger every day! Tim estimates that he has passed the eight pound mark now, considering the increased strain on our arms and backs lately.

As far as my breastfeeding woes go, by last Thursday, I had decided to give up the whole thing and just go with formula. I mean, hey, I was raised on formula and I turned out alright, right? The whole two-hour nursing/bottle/pumping regimen was sucking my soul dry in a big way, and I was beginning to dread every feeding. And that’s definitely not how I want to feel right now. My sister-in-law (mother of three great kids) sagely said, ‘They’re only this little for such a short time. Enjoy him!’

Thanks, Katrina.

By that afternoon, though, I just decided to stop pumping. I’d keep nursing at each feeding, then give him a bottle of formula. And that was such a relief.

So now, I’m pumping an average of twice a day, usually when he’s had a big bottle and hasn’t nursed in a while. But since he’s been going through his four week growth spurt, that hasn’t been very often. Dios mio! A month, already?! I can’t believe what a blur it’s been. What’s going on in the world anyway? Every one’s been celebrating August Clauss Month for the past four weeks, right?

Funny story: Today, I was making a diaper wipes run to Wal-Mart and I was so involved with talking to August (yes, I’m a wierdo stared at by strangers), I nearly forgot to take my purchases from the cashier! Actually, I totally forgot, but she called after me before I got too far out the door. Who knew my forgetfulness could get any worse than it was during my pregnancy? The funniest part: August was completely asleep and I was still chattering away to him. Heaven help me.

I hope you all are enjoying the new site. Tim has worked so hard on it — late at night, early in the morning — i.e., times he should be sleeping. Let’s hear it for Tim!

August is now making smiley-faces at me! Mostly, it’s in his sleep, but he has the cutest dimples! I can’t wait until he smiles for real. He’s going to be a stunner.

In other news: My grandfather died last week, which made for an interesting weekend of travel and funeral and all. Let me just say, for those of you who smoke, that dying of emphysema is one of the worst ways to go. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. And it’s terrible for your family — you become such a burden. Please quit. I’ve heard that lung cancer isn’t much better.

Hey everybody, Tim here. Just wanted to let you know that we are so very close to moving to our new home on the web, bookerdog.com.

We will be posting the blog here. I’ve got some of the birth pictures up on the site, and you can look through those, (Check the August Category). The rest of the categories are a bit sparse as I try and get things up and running. For some wierd reason, we’re not getting the latest entries at the new site this afternoon, and if that continues, rest assured, we’ll get them onto the blogspot. So when you’re checking the blog in the future, check the bookerdog site first for the latest info.

A quick update for those of you wringing your hands over skinny little August…

When we went to the doc’s on Saturday morning, he was up a whopping 6 ounces to 6 pounds, 9 ounces! Yay, birth weight!

We’re on the right track now, with him packing on the weight and me pumping away. The frustrating thing is that my milk supply doesn’t seem to be improving. I’ve got a call in to my doctor for a drug called Reglan, which will hopefully help with that. As it stands now, about every third bottle he gets is breastmilk (and of course, I nurse him with the nipple shield before each bottle, sometimes even inbetween if he is hungry).

I really would like to get him supplementing with breastmilk bottles only (and eventually no supplementing at all), especially because his poopy diapers are so disgusting right now! Who knew formula could produce such noxious stuff??

So thanks for the fattening thoughts everyone, keep them coming!

Also, welcome to bookerdog.com! We’ll get some recent pictures of the guy up soon!

My, oh my, what a week.

We’ve hit another major stumbling block with the breastfeeding. In a nutshell, August sucks at it (by not sucking at “it”) and, in turn, my body has begun to reduce the amount of food it is making for his consumption.

This is especially shocking, since I thought we were rolling along so well. On Tuesday, he ate all day. I mean every hour, he was on the breast. But he didn’t seem to be sucking all that hard. That night, he was very fussy. I just figured he was having a growth spurt. The next day, he slept all day. I had to wake him up to eat! Again, he seemed to have a weak suck. This also was mildly alarming, but I thought he was just tired from being up so much the day before.

Now, my mom was up at the time, helping out around the house and generally being a lifesaver (thanks, mom!). She thought he looked like he was gaining weight, I thought he looked great. Tim thought he was looking good as well. Well, turns out we were all fooled.

At his two-week checkup yesterday, he was only 6 pounds 3 ounces. That’s up only 2 ounces since he was 4 days old! He’s supposed to be gaining an ounce a day! I was totally shocked. I was devastated. I was a blubbering mess for the rest of the doctor’s visit. The doc recommended to see a lactation consultant STAT, and to start supplementing his feedings with either expressed breast milk or formula.

I cannot tell you how much I felt like a failure. We’ve been working so hard! I mean, between Tim’s and my mom’s help, I haven’t had to concentrate on anything other than August. Why weren’t we getting this right? I went home and cried the rest of the day, sure that I was killing our son. Every time I looked at him, I would burst into tears. It was my fault that he wasn’t growing. My fault that he’s not getting what he needs.

Guess what? It’s not my fault.

I met with the lactation consultant this morning and she explained that we were still in that “vicious cycle” I referenced last week. He doesn’t have a good latch on my breasts, so he had only been getting the barest minimum of food to get by. For that first week, that was enough. But now that he’s getting bigger (or supposed to be), he needs more. So we came up with a plan — yay, plan! — of using a breast pump and a neato little device called a breast shield to help both of us get back up to speed. The bad news is that until I start pumping enough, he’s going to have to get some formula. At this point though, I really don’t care. I just want him to get food. In fact, I say thank goodness for formula! Even if it is stinky and disgusting.

So hysteria over somewhat. And can I just say that watching the Regis repeat of their Mother’s Day show this morning was a really, really bad idea?

Now we have to report back to the pediatrician’s office tomorrow morning for weigh-in. Send your fattening thoughts August’s way!

A quick one (while he’s asleep)…

My, is it Friday already? Where has the time gone?

It seems like forever since Sunday, a lifetime since last Thursday. We’ve been through so much already!

What I didn’t tell you about on Sunday night was just how absolutely relieved I was at that point. You see, we got a little behind with the breastfeeding. I thought we were doing really well, but he was jaundiced (i.e., his skin and eyes

were yellow-ish looking, like he had a tan) when we left the hospital and no one told us that the jaundice would make him really sleepy. So we missed feedings. And since he and I were still learning the whole breastfeeding thing, I missed some of his feeding cues. So he got dehydrated.

Next thing you know, he hasn’t had a wet diaper in 36 hours. At this point, the pediatrician is getting concerned, I’m hysterical and Tim is getting upset as well (which, for those of you who know even-keel, ever-the-optimist Tim, is totally alarming). So we start giving him a 1/2 ounce of Pedialyte after each feeding by dropper.

Basically, it came down to a deadline: if August hadn’t had a wet diaper by Monday morning, we were going to have to “get aggressive” according to the ped. What did that mean? I could only imagine. Formula possibly? Probably. To a struggling breastfeeding mom, this is the ultimate shame. (Geez, I still get choked up just writing this!)

Anyway, Sunday night, I pulled out all the stops. I tried every trick I knew to get him to pee. I took off his diaper, waved cool air over his wee, put alcohol (cold! very cold!) on his umbilical stump and generally annoyed the heck out of him. Just when I was about to give up and rediaper him for the millionth time, eureka! A fountain of pee! I don’t know or really care if you believe this, but I literally sobbed with joy. Tim, who was on the phone with his oldest brother Lou, came running into the room and we immediately celebrated. Wierd, huh? Where most new parents hate changing dirty diapers, we party like it’s 1999, baby.

The next morning, he was extremely lethargic. He didn’t want to nurse. He didn’t even want to open his mouth. This was all very alarming to the pediatrician, so we took him in at 12:45.

Throughout all of this, even though I was an emotional trainwreck, my instincts were telling me that he was OK. His color wasn’t that bad, our feeding sessions were getting better every time (except for the one that morning) and he just didn’t act like he was sick.

At the doctor’s he was weighed, which showed that his weight was down to 6 lbs 1 oz. This wasn’t too disturbing since he had been 6 lbs 2 oz. on Saturday, and most babies lose up to 10% of their birth weight in the days after birth (especially breastfed babies). The doctor checked him out and declared that he looked pretty good. He told us to keep up the Pedialyte until the wet diapers became a regular occurence and to keep nursing him frequently.

Now it’s Friday, and I can’t believe how far we’ve come. He’s nursing like a champ now (with my sore nipples a shining and misshapen example of just how well) and he still sleeps great at night! It’s like he was born knowing that he should eat a lot in the evenings so he can sleep at night! We are blessed! (Of course, this could change at any time.) We’re still not totally where we need to be as far as the number of wet and poopy diapers every day, but we’re getting better. Best of all, he looks really good. His cheeks seem a little fuller and he even feels heavier. If all goes well, I’m hoping for a very positive two-week checkup next Thursday.

One wierd thing that they don’t tell you about in the baby books: he’s molting! He’s totally losing a layer of skin! We’ve used vitamin E oil and even the heavy-duty lotion they prescribed at the hospital, but it still keeps coming off. Crazy! We asked our friends Tim and Brooke if their son did the same thing and they said yes, so I stopped worrying about it.

Tim gets embarassed when I go on about how great he is, but he truly has been such a rock for me. During the delivery, he was everything. Through each contraction, he was there, holding my hand, reassuring me and looking into my eyes to keep me focused on anything other than the pain. Since we’ve been home, he has been right there any time I or August have needed him. He’s totally incredible. August and I are so lucky to have him.

Believe it or not: there were some funny moments from the labor and delivery of this little guy. Here’s one: When I started pushing, the nurse came in and said the doctor was on the phone wondering if she should come to the hospital now or run home first. I was like, ‘Where the hell does she live?! Next door?!’ I didn’t realize that some first-time moms push for a long time. Needless to say, she came over then and it only took me 45 minutes total to push him out!

Wow.

I’m a mom.

I still can’t quite believe it.

Since last Thursday morning, my life has changed so completely. It would take a million blogger entries to include it all.

Right now, I hear Tim in the background, singing a silly little song to our son. August Alan, in the meantime, is doing his little “squeal-cry” which is more fussy than true crying. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

So, to start from the beginning, the scam was completely successful. We arrived at the hospital at 6:30 a.m., told them that I had been having contractions, but they had stopped for some reason. When they were monitoring me, I actually even had a couple of little contractions, but they were irregular. Yay, me! So they called my doctor and she said to break my water to see if that would get the contractions going again. Since this was hospital time, they didn’t actually get around to doing that until 11:30 a.m., and once they did, there was no gush! Apparently, the baby’s head was acting like a cork in my cervix, not letting the amniotic fluid out. So they gave me an hour to see if contractions would start, which they did not.

Basically, all it did was start some cramping. When they added a pitocin IV drip, the cramps got worse and worse, eventually graduating to full-blown contractions by about 2 p.m. And once they started, wow, did they start. They were never farther than 2 minutes apart, lasting anywhere from 30 seconds to 90 seconds. And let me tell you friends, it hurt. It sucked, actually. My doula was a little delayed getting there, and it was a good thing she got there when she did, because I was totally ready to get the epidural. Totally.

So we discussed Stadol, a narcotic that takes the edge off of the contractions and helps you rest between them. There was some debate about when was the best time to get the Stadol, as my greatest concern was what effect the drug would have on the baby. Keep in mind that incredibly painful contractions are coming every 2 minutes as this discussion is going on, so the subject was changed and eventually, I just dropped it because I knew it was too late.

So how did I get through it? Teamwork, my friends. This birth was a total team effort. After trying a couple of different focal points, Tim eventually became the center of my attention during the increasingly intense contractions. Plus, I had to have two hands to hold during every contraction. My mom was a god-send throughout the labor, rubbing my shoulders and neck, holding my hand, taking care of the little details… And Judy was simply indispensible. Her suggestions and expertise are the reason I am able to write this today with such joy.

Finally, after what seemed like days but was only a couple of hours, I had the urge to push. They checked my dilation and I was only at 8 cm. I had to “blow” through several more contractions, many of which I couldn’t help myself and pushed a little anyway. I couldn’t stand it any longer and had them check again. All that remained of my cervix was a little “lip.” So I blew through two more contractions as the nurse pushed the lip back.

Once they said I could push, I exploded with joyful cries of “Thank you, God!” and “yes! yes!” Everyone in the room cracked up. They said I sounded like one of those Herbal Essences commercials. I have never been so happy to hear someone say anything in my whole life. Finally, I would be able to make the pain of the contractions do something, instead of just having to survive them.

After 45 minutes of the hardest work I’ve ever done, August Alan finally appeared. Most of the contractions had me pushing three times, but during the final bit, I pushed ten times in a row! I wanted him out!

So overall, the labor only lasted 4 and a half hours. I had no episiotomy, maybe a couple of tiny tears. All I know is that I feel really good. I was very sore the following couple of days, of course, but I thank goodness that I got away as lucky as I did.

After he was out, they suctioned out his nose and mouth and he let out the most beautiful wail. He had great Apgar scores (which rate their color, breathing, etc.) were 8 and 9 out of 10, so he was great right from the start. They put him on my stomach and Tim cut the cord.

It was amazing. He was still crying and all I did was say a word and he went quiet. The first thing I did was smell him. I’ve never had such a primal experience. I can’t even describe it. Actually, I feel like I’ve done such a mediocre job of explaining any of this experience. It was unreal. I’ve never felt so out of control. I’ve never felt such pain. I’ve never felt such fear and joy and wonder.

Now, I’ve got an amazing baby boy. And I’m still feeling all of those emotions, to some extent.

Of course, I have many more stories to tell, but I’m not sure how regularly I’m going to be able to post here in the near future, as I continue to recover and we continue to adjust to our new lives as parents. But I will continue to post!

Thanks to everyone who sent us so many well-wishes both before, during and after the birth. It was so wonderful to be able to think about how many people were supporting me during the labor.

This is going to be quick, since I have been ordered to bed by my husband, but we are (hopefully) having the baby tomorrow (Thursday)! I basically had huge emotional meltdown last night when I considered how all of my best-laid plans were completely falling apart with regard to this birth. I mean, my doctor that I trust and have a great relationship with will probably not be delivering my baby, or I was going to have to be induced at a different hospital that I knew nothing about (I thought). Not good. Many tears. Much nose-honking.

So I called my doctor first thing this morning. I didn’t actually get to speak to her until 6 this evening (after waiting around all day), but she said that if I wanted her to deliver the baby, I should go to St. John’s tomorrow morning and say that I had been having contractions every 5 minutes, but they seem to be slowing down. Then, when the nurse called her, she would say that since I was already so dilated and overdue, that they should start the pitocin. Hooray! A plan, a devious plan! Of course, hopefully I could still go into labor naturally tonight, but that’s looking like less and less of a possibility.

So we went out to dinner and walked around the mall for an hour and had frozen custard. It’s like my last meal or something! I’m so excited!

But I didn’t sleep well last night since I was so crampy after getting my membranes stripped, so I only ended up getting about 4 hours of sleep. That’s why Tim is tapping his foot at me right now, letting me know that I should be headed to bed.

Send happy birthing thoughts today, my friends! I’ll update as soon as I can!

So close!

At the doctor’s today, she informed me that I’m dilated to 4 cm! Woo hoo! That’s Phase One of labor already nailed, my friends! According to hospital guidelines, I could get an epidural right now! Just go about my daily life, numb from the waist down…

She also performed a procedure called “stripping the membranes” which sounds much more painful than it is. Basically, she just ran her finger around the edge of my cervix where the amniotic sac is attached and separated the two. She could only get 80% around, as I have, apparently, a “very narrow birth canal” and she couldn’t reach that corner. Right away, I started feeling very crampy, but as yet, no contractions. Because of Mr. Polyp, though, there was much blood. (Aren’t you so glad that you are getting these wonderful details? I feel so close to everyone right now…)

The doctor then offered to send us over to Labor and Delivery right then to get induced. Oh, I was so tempted! I let Tim be the voice of reason, though, and he suggested that maybe we should wait and see if the membrane stripping did any good. She said that something usually happens within 24 hours. She then said she’d have her nurse call and set up an induction time for Thursday. Joy! A deadline!

I then came home and immediately called Judy (the doula) for her advice. She said that although it is best to go into labor on your own, doctors start to get really antsy when you are this far dilated and not in labor yet. They start to worry that once things start to happen, they may happen very quickly, leaving you going through transition in the car while trying to get to the hospital or something. She thought an induction on Thursday would be fine. Double joy! Even the doula is on board!

Of course, this was all for naught when the nurse called and said that the hospital had no opening for inductions this entire week. Apparently, they are just swamped right now with all of us preggos having babies! So then the real kicker is that my doctor is on vacation for the next week! Great!

So the nurse said, ‘You’ll just have to go into labor on your own,’ which is fine, but what if that doesn’t happen within the next week and a half? Did she not even attempt to schedule something for next week since the doc’s going to be gone? I don’t even have an appointment set up with her at any point in the future! Not to mention that I’ve never even met who might be covering for her next week! GRR!

Needless to say, I’m freaking out a little. I do feel a little better that I’m not going to be induced, though. For one thing, your contractions have a tendency to come on strong when they use pitocin. Plus, once they get an IV in you (which they use to administer the pitocin), this invisible clock starts ticking — timing your progression. If you don’t progress so far so fast, then your chances of having a C-section are greatly increased. Plus, I think that getting induced really goes against my whole birthing philosophy. I mean, I’m supposed to be a believer that my body can do this on its own, right? That no medical intervention is really necessary. The baby has to come out at some point.

So much to think about! But I must admit, I felt the temptation of just having this baby right now. Now I’m really in it for the long haul.

Well, here we are. August 6. The Official Due Date of Baby Clauss 2001.

And still no baby! I suppose that’s to be expected, though, since only around 5% of all babies are born on their due dates in this country. Plus, we still have a couple more hours! He could still make it!

Yeah, right.

Cool! UPS man just tried to sneak a package on the porch, but the dogs were on to ‘im. He was bearing purchases from drugstore.com! Woo hoo! Boudreaux Butt Paste for everyone! Baby, if this is what you’ve been waiting for, then wait no longer! The Butt Paste is here!

And, what, you may be asking, is Boudreaux Butt Paste? Kindly remove your minds from the gutters and place them directly on the changing table. Boudreaux is this wonderful concoction invented by a pharmacist in Louisiana to help prevent and treat diaper rash. My friends Brooke and Tim use it on their wee one and it works like a charm. And it smells way better than A&D ointment, kinda like vanilla. And isn’t, “Hey, honey, we need more Butt Paste,” way more fun to say than, “We’re out of A&D Ointment.” I hate that word, ointment. It just sounds unpleasant.

I hope the dogs don’t take a hankering to the smell, though. That’s all we need, is to get the dogs more interested in stinky diapers. Luckily, we have our trusty Diaper Genie to lock-down all the smelliness, though. Guaranteed wiener-dog proof!

Anyway, all of this ruminating on due dates has me recalling last December 1, the day I found out I was pregnant.

It was a Friday. I had been acting crazy all week long, going totally ballistic on Tim for the smallest of reasons. In fact, just a couple of days before, I had gone to get my hair cut (Tim had an appointment with the same person for that night) and the check card was declined. I just asked if Tim could pay later and she said sure. Well, I went home and started to look for the checkbook, totally enraged, because I knew I would then have to deliver it to Tim since his check card wouldn’t work. I couldn’t find the damn checkbook which made things even worse. I did all of this instead of looking at our bank to see what might be the problem with the check card. I ended up driving back to the salon, sans checkbook, where I knew Tim would be going to soon. I found him in the lobby, playing a video game while waiting for his appointment. He said that he had the checkbook.

It’s terrible to say this, but keep in mind that I was temporarily insane: If I had had a gun, I would have shot him. That’s how mad I was. Why? Hell if I know! It’s irrational anger — there’s no explanation! Anyway, turns out there was nothing wrong with the card at all. I just needed to have her try it again. Looking back, I feel so bad for poor Tim. He just said, “What is wrong with you?”

We soon knew why — I was pregnant.

By Friday of that week, I couldn’t wait any longer. We had only been trying to get pregnant for about a month and a half, so I thought that if I was pregnant, I couldn’t be very far along. So I researched the pregnancy test that would yield the most reliable results at the earliest possible time and went to Walgreens to buy it. Of course, it was at lunchtime and for some reason, the Walgreens was totally packed. I had to stand in a huge line of people, all the while trying to looking nonchalant about buying a home pregnancy test. I took it home, carefully read the directions and realized that I needed to wait four hours before taking it.

I typed email, puttered around and generally stalled for as long as I could. Finally, the four hours had passed and I took the test. You have to wait a couple of minutes for it to work, but mine had two pink lines like that! Very pregnant!

I can’t think of the right words to describe the feeling that washed over me. Paralyzing fear. Elation. Relief at the knowledge that I was not, indeed, insane. Anxiety. Wonder at what those two pink lines really meant.

The one thing I was sure of: I did not want to give Tim the news over the phone. So what did I do? I called him immediately.

I was sobbing as soon as I heard his voice. Needless to say, he was very happy. But the actual conversation is for us only.

That night, we just happened to be hosting our friends the Grifters after they played a show downtown. Actually, it was a good thing I found out that I was pregnant that day, or else baby Clauss could have been exposed to mucho alcohol with those boys in town.

So, by the end of the night, my mom knew (had to call her!), Tim’s parents knew (I think), the Grifters knew and about five or six of our friends who just happened to be at the show knew. We were crazy! And, to think, I was only 4 weeks pregnant! When I think about all of the things that could have gone wrong with the pregnancy between then and now, well, I probably still would’ve told everyone. It was nuts!

So that’s the story of how I found out that I was pregnant. And it’s hard to fathom just how many light-years away August 6, 2001 sounded on that day.