Ninja baby

Ninja baby blends into the background while practicing her moves:



Ninja baby is working on yet another nursing regimen, thanks to yet another lactation consultant's recommendation. (The recommendation: no shield, clutch/football hold, control her chin to stop the tongue thrust, skin-to-skin contact to "organize the baby.") She doesn't quite get the hang of it yet, but when she does it seems to be working well. It's starting to seem absurd to expend all this effort on something she's only going to need for the first year of her life, something that can easily be replaced by an easy-to-purchase, easy-to-use product. I think this is going to be the last professional recommendation we try, especially since everyone we've spoken with has suggested something different. On the upside, this kid now probably knows more than any three average babies about different types of bottles, formula, and various nursing techniques. She's been pretty good about all the switching back and forth. I doubt knowing how to suck on an Avent nipple #2 versus an Enfamil premade formula nipple versus a Medela shield will help her in later life, but I suppose the flexibility will.

Noticing you noticing me

We've started to notice Chloë starting to notice things. Up until now she's focused on the face of the person who's holding her a little, but not much else. But yesterday and the day before she started to look around, to stare at the red couch (apparently babies like red) and the black pattern on my shirt and, for whatever reason, the plain and featureless wall of her room. I think she likes the bumper, too.

This sudden interest in her surroundings makes her a lot more interactive, since we can now at least show her toys and things and she'll respond, after a fashion. I'm glad, because in all honesty, newborns are not very interesting. Her new interest in the world also means an increase in the amount of time she's willing to be put down and lie somewhere by herself. This is fortunate, because today is Eric's first day of new teacher orientation and therefore the first day that Chloë and I have been alone for more than an hour or so, and I'd been worrying about how I was supposed to do things like use the bathroom with a baby who didn't like to be put down.

LOLbaby

"Later, you will pay for this. You will all pay."

"It's going to be how long before I can operate my own laser?"

"No more pictures!"

R.I.N.D.S. v2.0

The implementation of the R.I.N.D.S. has been, shall we say, problematic.

In the first week, Chloë and I were having feeding difficulties. She wouldn't stay latched on and fussed a lot and was therefore crying and unhappy; I was hurting and worried she was underfed and therefore crying and unhappy. Then came the jaundice issue, which was caused partly by her being underfed--without enough to eat she wasn't able to wash the excess bilirubin out of her system fast enough, plus breastmilk apparently contains enzymes that inhibit the liver's ability to break it down.

The doctor advised us to start supplementing, which we did--first with ready-to-serve Enfamil formula from the hospital (which smelled terrible), then with the copious formula samples we've received and pumped milk as it was available, which it wasn't, very much. The lactation consultants we consulted advised us that Chloë has "tongue thrust," which explained why she wasn't able to stay latched on and therefore didn't get enough to eat. Many people advised us it wasn't our fault Chloë had ended up in the NICU, but we knew the truth--that it will go on her future list of reasons to order our execution whether it was our fault or not.

To deal with the tongue thrust and shallow latch issue, I got a nipple shield, which basically makes the R.I.N.D.S. more like a bottle. Evidently the Borg implants are contagious. Tuesday, because Chloë's weight gain has been excellent, bordering on excessive (ten ounces in the five days after she got out of the hospital, then seven and a half ounces in the next five days after that), the pediatrician prescribed a feeding schedule to get her off the supplements and to increase the R.I.N.D.S.'s supply (presumably diminished by the small amounts Chloë was able to extract at first). It involves not letting her get as full as she's now used to, which was a touch grueling as she didn't think this was a good idea at all, and let us know. Emphatically. "Is it really so bad for her to get a bottle at every feeding?" I asked Eric yesterday, over the squalling. "What will the pediatrician say if we go back Friday and say we've given up and we're just going to use formula?" Only we won't do that if we don't have to. Did I mention that stuff smells terrible? And it's looking like we won't have to; the R.I.N.D.S. are producing better and Chloë is happier today than she was yesterday. I'm cautiously thinking the new improved version of the R.I.N.D.S. will be a success.

Hallelujah!

I have my feet back!

Chloë of Borg...

I am Chloë of Borg...


















Resisting my cuteness is futile.

(If it were just the pads on the head, she'd be more like a Geordi LaForge than a Borg.)

The silence isn't just lost free time...

So as some people already know, we found ourselves in the hospital all weekend. Chloë was badly jaundiced, and the docs decided she needed some serious and rapid treatment. They have these wonderful blue lights used to break down bilirubin, the pigment that causes jaundiced children to look yellow-orange, and they worked like a charm, though we were worried pretty constantly all weekend.

We're still worried, for that matter. But we're taking steps to be less worried. Essentially, she's getting force-fed extra pumped milk or formula as needed.

On the upside, we're out of the woods for the most part, Chloë's gaining weight again, and we're all feeling better. Also we have pictures that make it look like she has Borg implants.