I Had to Make Myself So Big

It’s been five months and two days since MAS was born and I’m just now realizing: He made it. My god. He made it.

At 28 weeks I was still getting used to being pregnant. It was just starting to feel real. Like there might be a real person living with us one day soon. A baby! How fun! And then all of a sudden he was there and he was so small and so tiny. Not like a baby at all but a fetus. He was just this little spark of a person I had to breathe into being. Finish off what my body had left undone.

And so I visited him every day. Sat beside his isolette, whispering into the portals about the life we’d lead when he came home. Held his bird-like self against my chest—wires and tubes snaking from him and alarms ringing out every few minutes. Hoping my beating heart would teach his the right rhythm.

I was strong. Strong enough for him, for me, for my husband. I was Atlas, hunkered down beneath the globe. There was nothing I couldn’t bear.

I didn't even cry. No that's not right. I cried once: when he was 7 weeks old, when I found out he had NEC.

But after the birth? When he dropped to a frightening 2 pounds?


MAS under the bilirubin lights five days after birth.

Not once.

I had to puff myself up, you see, make myself so big the predator wouldn’t see him. He’d be so small there tucked against my bulk it’d miss him altogether.

Death would overlook him. He’d be passed over.

Tiny Love. Big Fun.

Just today, at 9 weeks corrected (5 months actual) MAS started showing more than a passing interest in his Tiny Love activity mat. He actually looked at those toys dangling above him, smiling and cooing at the butterflies and purple dinosaur.

Ah, the fun that was had! Followed by such tears when boredom set it!

And now? He sleeps.

Out & About In Sunny Brooklyn

He was all tuckered out after Mommy & Me yoga at Mala Yoga on Court Street. (Which was a huge hit.)

Lucky me, though! I brought my laptop and managed to actually get some work done at a picnic table while he dozed.

Once I realized I had to pee I had a moment of panic: it was so nice out I dreaded the thought of trudging back upstairs.

Alas, Starbucks came to the rescue with its wide stroller-friendly bathroom. Back out to a bench to work we went.

Bonding

I was one of those annoying pregnant women.

No coffee. No soda. No sugar substitutes. No non-organic food. No beef or chicken: the hormones they inject into those poor beasts!

I did prenatal yoga and continued exercising.

I was planning on birthing this babe sans drugs, in a Jacuzzi, with scores of scented candles flickering and woeful acoustic guitar music swelling in the background. My baby would room-in with me, breastfeed seconds after birth. I’d only spend a night in the hospital before whisking him home to my Brooklyn abode where no non-organic soap or cloth would touch his pristine skin.

So naive.

Of course that’s not what ended up happening. Instead, I had a c-section under general anesthesia after five days of bedrest at 28 weeks. I didn’t see MAS until over 24 hours after he was born, didn’t hold him until day 8. Didn’t take him home for another 66.

And now? Five months later he and I are as bonded as a Mama and Baby can be.

All those days of kangaroo care in the NICU, all those hours of struggling with breastfeeding. Each second I spent adding a little dab of glue, bonding us just a little bit tighter.

In the end, bonding isn’t something that happens in a day or so. It’s a process.

Having A Newborn Means Choosing Delivery

For the first six weeks MAS was home from the hospital we had to be hyper-vigilant about not exposing him to airborne diseases like RSV and the ilk. He was eligible for the Synagis vaccine, but our ped still wanted us to be really careful about who came into contact with him and when.

That meant no grocery stores, no corner bodegas, no subway rides. Et cetera.

And that's when the underground world of NY Delivery opened up to us. Ah, such a glorious, luxury filled existence. One I'm now loathe to give up even though we've been cleared to go anywhere we'd like.

Here's a list of things I've gotten delivered--or am about to have delivered--since MAS left the NICU.

Meals from local restaurants.
Groceries
Laundry--cleaned, folded and dropped off within three hours!
Cat food
Cat Litter
Cat Grooming (Yes! Next Thursday the Aussie Pet Mobile will swing by our abode to groom Jasmine and Janus with uber-hip and hair-ball eliminating lion cuts.)

He Loves The Boobies

This week MAS and I went to two breastfeeding groups.

One was at Gumbo, a children's store/babyspace on Atlantic Avenue in Boreum Hill, Brooklyn. Run by Andrea Syms-Brown, a NY certified lactation consultant, the group was really hands-on and informal: there was only one other woman there and so we both got to share our stories and seek advice.

The other group was a La Leche League meeting on the Upper West Side. Now, I'm dedicated to breastfeeding MAS for twelve months past his due date but even for me this group was a bit crunchy... Things that struck me as odd: 1) a woman nursing a two year old was given a hard time when she sought advice about weaning and was told that most kids self-wean?!; 2) the leader said that because breastmilk was the perfect food vitamins weren't necessary....

Still, it was nice to be able to meet with othe breastfeeding moms, especially since our path to exlusive nursing has been so hard.

I mean things are going well now, but its been a very very long road. Since he was so born so early, he was at first fed via umbilical IV, then central line, then gavage tube, then bottle.

We finally learned to nurse with the help of a lactation consultant named Freda Rosenfeld after we left the NICU. Only after weeks of exercises and the use of, then careful weaning off of, a breastshield did we get to our current exclusive breastfeeding state.

And now? Last week, after a particularly long feeding I cooed to MAS, "You just love the boobies, dontcha?" After which I swear to god the kid winked at me.