Air Imri

Imri is a very gassy boy. He doesn't have colic, but oh boy does he have gas. While he sleeps, I'll often hear him pass lots of gas - which is great, even though I wonder how one small boy has so much air inside his gut. And I mean a LOT of air. Oh yes.

But when he's awake and primarily when eating, gas becomes a big deal. He'll get red-faced and angry and start screaming (and snorting, making it worse)while trying to pass it. It's almost like he's saying: "OH MY GOD, there's AIR coming out of my BUTT!! AIR!!! Out of my BUTT!!! What fresh hell is this?? HELP! Please HELP!!"

It's very upsetting seeing him so frazzled over farts. Really. I try and soothe him, give him props for passing it,etc. - it works sometimes, other times not so much. Mylic0n drops help a little - maybe. Hard to say. I've read so many different things that either say "diet affects this" or "diet doesn't affect this" that I'm cross-eyed and still confused.

The one consistent thing I've picked up from reading the various baby experts is that this too shall pass - usually around 2-3 months of age. And then I thought ... Imri will be 7 weeks old this Friday - nearly 2 months old and hopefully, the gas terror is on its way out. But 7 weeks old - when the hell did that happen?

On the one hand, I'm relieved that this misery may be on its last legs for his sake, and while I am delighted at seeing the changes in my boy as he grows - I looked at some of the outfits he wore only a couple of weeks ago and they are too small. He doesn't look like a newborn anymore. He is growing and changing - smiling when I smile, laughing frequently ...so many changes, so quickly - it's wonderful and difficult, all at the same time. I guess I finally understand what every mom told me "cherish it because it passes so quickly".

So quickly that I had my post-partum checkup yesterday. Imri came with me in his stylish outfit and new "shoes". It went well and the doc even commented on how beautiful he is, totally unsolicited. He better be, she delivered him. Still, the appointment was one more thing that carries the stamp of "time is passing quickly". Which is bad because work looms ahead.

I dread having to go back to work. DREAD it. I try not to think about it because it's the absolute last thing I want to do. If we lived in Canada, I'd have a whole year of paid leave (which Canadians pay into with mandatory payroll deductions - it's not just for mat leave but unemployment, etc) to care for my baby, rather than pay for someone else to care for him. Here in the land of "family values" I only get my saved vacation time (and I had used up a large chunk of that with the last miscarriage) and what I have paid for out of my own pocket - a measly 6 weeks, which insurance has cleverly cut to 5 weeks "oh yes ma'am, 6 weeks minus your 'elimination' period of 7 days". Bastards. I'd like to show them what elimination really means. Yeah. I mention to John frequently that Canada is a brighter option for so many reasons, this just one of them.

Oh, and hon? If you read this? Happy Anniversary :) And yes, let's seriously consider Canada, ok?

Anyway, I didn't write this to be a kvetch-fest, but rather to talk about gas - because really, what mother doesn't want to discuss her child's GI tract on the Internet? And I've done that, so now to the pictures - because that's why you're here, isn't it?



Nice shoes, huh?

Anal retentive

You know that trick that you're told NICU nurses do with babies? The one where you use a rectal thermometer to gently stimulate the pooping reflex if need be?

Oh boy, does it work.

Revenge of the baby, part one.

Young Imri got his first shot Friday. It was traumatic for both mom and baby ... baby has probably forgotten already but the sudden look of pain on an otherwise happy baby's face will be engraved upon my memory forever. I'm not sure who cried more.

Other than that, he is doing well. His weight is now 9lbs 14oz and he has nearly gained 2 inches in height. He is still relatively small - between 25 and 50th percentile but that's better than the 10th percentile he was in. Besides, I'm not so hung up about numbers, truthfully. He's thriving and that's all that matters. I even got my first sort-of smile/giggle today, which brought me to tears. Of course. I cry over everything, especially the good stuff.

After the shot, he slept most of the afternoon away (interdispersed by much eating, only come evening to be attacked by a bad case of the gassies. I had already figured that it would be a rough night considering how deeply he had slept - and I was right - bad bad gas, compounded by being bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and ready for play at 10-11pm. No amount of hushing, lullabye-ing or rocking made him any sleepier. I passed him off to Dad, which prompted much wailing until I realized he wanted to eat. Again. At least it helped him pass the gas somewhat. Poor little guy. It wasn't a fun night for Mom or Baby. We got a brief bout of sleep from 12-3, then waking on the hour every hour to eat. I kid you not.

Fast forward to Saturday where we hear many farts but no bowel movements, at least not since Friday afternoon, unusual for he who craps frequently. I figured something was brewing even though he was in a better mood. Sure enough, this afternoon during a leisurely feed I suddenly looked down at my infant son and proclaimed loudly "What the HELL is that??". Simply put ... the boy stank. I mean ... he reeked.
Now I am definitely wanting my money back because Drs Sears et al have proclaimed throughout the baby-rearing kingdom, that breastfed babies crap DOES NOT SMELL. Or at least, not as badly as formula fed babies. If this is just the beginning ... my GODS, are we in for a treat as things move forward.

Anyway, I took the smiling stinker upstairs for a change, only to realize that it was a huge blowout ... poop all up his back and everything. I was right - he had been saving up.
I got him cleaned up pretty well and he was lying there half starkers, looking at me and gurgling. Then he started to cry and I leaned over him to comfort him/pick him up ... which is when the ambush hit! Pee cascaded all down the front of my sweat top, on the changing table (which I had just cleansed of poop)and on the brand new carpet. Imri gurgled contentedly. His nefarious scheme had succeeded! I couldn't help but burst out laughing and in doing so ... well, let's just say that all my Kegel-doing in the world didn't help. OOps! I then hauled his stinky self to the sink for a mini-bath. Mind you, I just changed my shirt ... I definitely need a shower over here. Definitely. Hopefully I'll find time eventually. Yeah.

I'm waiting to see what he has planned in retaliation for next month's shots. Stay tuned.













I'm ready for my close-up, Mr DeMille ... come just a little closer ...

I hope you dance

I am typing slowly as a certain young man is sleeping peacefully on my chest. We decided that a musical interlude was called for as he's been fussy - yesterday we ended up at the doc's because of a terrible sore stomach and gas, most likely indigestion caused by yours truly, the bad mommy who ate orange chicken without thinking too much about it. Oops.

So, I put on an old CD of mine from Israel called הכבש הששה עשר or for those without Hebrew font or knowledge, "The Sixteenth Sheep", a children's album put out some time ago by some famous Israeli singers/songwriters. It's absolutely wonderful and clever, both lyrically as well as musically. When it came out in Israel, it made big waves and several of the songs were on top 100 lists - but that's Israel for you. Speaking of which, I know I have readers from Israel ... any baby music recommendations? And that's not just directed at the Israelis amongst you, btw.

So Imri and I danced to the music - he listened intently to the music and my singing, his bright eyes looking at me, at the light in the room, at everything until he drifted asleep in my arms. And I started to cry ... a fleeting memory to carry with me forever, my infant son slowly falling asleep in my arms as we dance.

My sweet sweet Imri. This feeling is something well and truly beyond happiness, beautiful boy. I love you so much.

Hey, I'm we're still here

Actually, I'm rejoicing in the 6 whole hours of sleep I got last night! No, not in a row ... you must have forgotten what it's like having a 3 week old ... but for the first time in a while, he ate well (I am breastfeeding him)and slept for 2-3 hours at a stretch, then awoke to eat - and sleep - some more. As I have now deluded myself into thinking that I am actually well-rested, I will probably go on and on about a jumble of things that interest no one but myself. Here goes ...

Poor Imri has gas. Mylic0n drops do help but they are not a cure. The foods I eat seem to make no difference although I am trying to keep milk products to a minimum, despite studies that show it makes no difference. But last night Imri slept without waking in screaming agony even once. And voila, mom feels like she won the lottery. Yeah, I'd give a lot for some decent REM sleep, but hey - I'm not complaining. Honest.

My beautiful son is a very sweet-tempered boy - and I am a lucky woman. He cries - nay, screams, when the basics don't go his way - ie, the breast is not offered promptly and forthwith, when I insist on cleaning his poopy bottom, or the aforementioned gas attacks. Other than that, he is a sunshiny child, alert and interested in most things around him, preferably light sources of all kinds. He is holding up his head with remarkable ease for an infant - he actually was doing that when he was new-born, but he really holds it up now - yes, I'm a proud and doting mommy and I'm bragging. So there.

Imri is a boy of many names, one of which is "Grunty McSnorty" ... you should hear him when he's tucking into a meal at my breast. It's pretty funny - if I could figure out how to use John's vid-cam, I'd tape him. He'll make a moue` with his mouth - I'll insert the nipple and he'll get a gleam in his eye and start shaking his head frantically and grunt repeatedly... "no!! No mom! Not like that!!" while straight-arming me and popping on and off the latch until I finally place it correctly and to his exacting specifications. Yeah, he's gonna be an engineer. Oy. But he's a great eater when he *does* latch on. And he does too smile, darn it. I see it frequently when he's put to the breast. Funny how that is.

He loves to be held and to snuggle, which has made it a tad difficult to use the bassinet regularly. As it stands, John has taken over the couch downstairs (mostly because I threatened him with various plagues if his *&^$%#&! alarm clock EVER woke me again after I had finally fallen asleep ...) and Imri and I share the big bed. Yes yes, I have heard of the evils of co-sleeping, but I fail to see the difference between him lying on his back on our bed with me next to him (and trust me, I don't move. Hell,no, I'm sound asleep when he is)and him lying on his back in the bassinet. He is happy and content and more importantly - he sleeps. And also of extreme importance ... when he sleeps, I sleep. It's all good.

He does freak me out sometimes when he does his "light sleep cycles". Yeah, I even googled it because it happens frequently during feeding time - suddenly his eyes will open and he'll look around - only he's not really looking around. His mouth moves, he makes little laughing sounds, maybe even continue to nurse ... only he's not awake. Thank the google gods for hits on "ask dr sears.com" which describe my baby to a T. I was close to calling the pediatrician.

Whom I adore, by the way. Dr E is a gem and I love her. On our second visit (with the whole jaundice scenario)to see her, she heard me talking to my mom in the hallway and came round the corner with a sweet smile and asked "how's Imri doing today?". She knew his name already - call me silly but that, in addition to her calm demeanor and breadth of knowledge impressed the hell out of me, considering how busy she is.
She asked me why I hadn't had him vaccinated for Hep B while in hospital ... is it only me that thinks that inoculating a newborn falls into the category of "cruel and unusual"? Besides, they couldn't promise me that the vaccine didn't have thimerisol in it, so ... I said no. There's plenty of time for it - probably at his one month visit, when he gets a few others. Ouch. Yes I'm an RN, but when it comes to my son, I'm just a mom - they had to take blood from him during the jaundice thang ... not just a heel stick either, they did venipuncture and I was a complete and utter hysterical and sobbing mess. It's a good thing my mom was with me. Nuff said.

Speaking of which, it was wonderful and awful having my parents here. Both of them are wonderful people who only want the best for us all but we are all set in our ways and they forget that they're in their seventies. Add to the mix one hormonal, exhausted and strung-out postpartum woman and you have a setup for all kinds of hijinx. The kicker for me was when my dad decided to reorganize my linen closet. Yeah.

My parents helped out tremendously though - they worked very hard helping get our house ready for the bris and with Imri having jaundice and me on orders not to drive - well, it would have been very tough getting around. Not to mention the cooking and cleaning she did ... and the hard work my dad did helping John finish the nursery.

And John - he has been wonderful. I can't say enough, so I won't. I am a lucky woman.

Anyway, I've babbled on enough. Please feel free to share advice, assvice and anything else and thank you so much for your good wishes. If you've emailed me and expected a swift response - well, can you hear my laughter from over there? Yes Paul, this means you.

And a reward for those of you who have read this far ... more pics! My beautiful baby is getting so big so very fast. Oh, and since Blogger is giving me grief with the titling of pics - the dark pic before the nursery pics is what the room looked like when we moved in. Yeah, and kids lived in that room. Amazing.