Parenting Advice

No, I am not giving it out. I have a question for those who have gone before me.

Baby boy and I are ready to start him on cereal. The doctor told me at his 4 month appointment that they recommend every child now be 6 months old before they start cereal. She said in his case it is even more important because he has had such constipation issues. From a very early age (2 weeks), baby boy (***I really need to give him a nick name, any suggestions**) has sometimes gone 5-6 days without pooping. And then when he does go it is much too hard for a little guy. When he was younger I would give him sugar water (at direction of doctor) twice a day to keep him regular and soft. At about 2 months I was able to stop that and since then have only had to give him the occasional sugar water when he seems to be struggling.

Having said all this, he won't be 6 months until November 31 but I don't think we can wait 2 more days for cereal let alone 2.5 more weeks. For the last several weeks he has become much more interested in our food. We usually put him in his high chair with toys while we are eating so we can interact with him but we have had to stop this because he wants our food so badly he gets frustrated. He follows it from the fork into our mouth and reaches for it, even though it is completely out of his reach. On the weekend I made pancakes for Rick and I and I thought the little boy was going to lose it. He was so agitated that I stopped eating until Rick was done and we switched off.

A friend of mine just started her son on rice cereal (a week before he turned 6 months) and he got really constipated. You can buy beginner oatmeal cereal, and I am wondering if any of you have had any experience with this.

My Hair

When I say that I will post more often, I do not mean every day. I promise you I don't' have that kind of time. But it is the weekend and Rick is home, so I do have a little more time than usual. So I thought I would tell you all the story of my hair.

I knew, long before I became pregnant that during pregnancy most women get increasingly thick hair. The hormones of pregnancy keep our hair in the active growing phase whereas normally about 30% of our hair is in the resting phase (falling out). See hair has a nice little cycle. Each month just enough hair falls out to ensure that we don't notice the loss (from a viewing perspective, we might notice the shedding on our clothes or our hairbrush) but also to ensure that we always have a mane of shiny, healthy hair. Pregnancy hormones screw with that cycle. It keeps over 90% of your hair in the active growing stage (in most women). Which is lovely during pregnancy when you have this lush, thick, shiny head of hair. Depending on the woman, and your hormone level, it can get out of control. Mine did. I have normally thick hair to begin with and by the end of my pregnancy it got ridiculous. It looked great when I wore it down. For the maternity photo's I posted a few months ago, I had it cut and styled and I thought it looked really nice. The hairdresser could not believe how much hair I had. I could not get an elastic around it to put it up, there was too much of it. If I wanted it out of my face, I had to put a bandanna around it.

The I delivered and my hormone levels crashed. Apparently they crashed harder because I had the C-section and breastfed for a few weeks and then abruptly gave it up. About 2 months post partum, my hair started falling out.

At first I wasn't at all concerned. Everything you read about pregnancy tells you to expect some shedding after birth. But the rate at which my hair came out was scary. If I laid on the floor on a blanket to play with my little boy, when I got up, the floor was covered in hair. And I mean covered! And you could see it, because we don't have any carpet. When I showered it was brutal. Handfuls and handfuls of hair would come out. It would clog the drain. So I started putting it on the edge of the tub to put in the garbage. People, these piles of hair would be the size of .... well I can't explain it properly... have a look.

And I wasn't just losing it in the shower. I was losing it all day, every day, everywhere. I have two cats who play and create fur balls that blow around my hard floors. But each day when I swept I would get far more of my hair than theirs.

I would wake up in the morning to hair covering my pillow.

I started to see bald spots. Little ones at first at my temples and above my ears. Then they got bigger and bigger and bigger. And I started to have the male pattern baldness look at the back of my head. I dreaded going into the shower. Even if I didn't shampoo my hair the hair loss was traumatizing.

I went to the doctor. At that point I had lost about 50% of the volume of my hair. I thought for sure it had something to do with the brain surgery. She said it might. That when your body goes through so much trauma it prioritizes recovery and all non-essential processes (such as hair and nail growth and ovulation) gets stopped. But mostly she thought it was hormonally caused as a result of birth. She told me it was an extreme case obviously, but something she had seen several times before. She also told me that my blood work came back and I was anemic (not surprising since I had narrowly avoided a blood transfusion during my brain surgery, just 9 days after my C-section).

At it's worse point, I figure I lost approximately 75% of my hairs volume. Although I had obvious bald spots, the worse part at this point was that the little hair that was left was dry and brittle and just dead looking. It got to the point that a clip that I would use to hold up a little hair around the edges before I got pregnant could hold all of my hair and then some. I didn't take many pictures at that stage but I saw this one the other day where you could kind of see a little of how very thin and brittle or frizzy it got at the top.

I finally had enough. With everything I had been through I didn't really need to feel bad about myself because of stupid hair. And although I don't consider myself a vain person, a hair is pretty important to a girl, don't you think. It had gotten to the point where I was no longer taking pictures of me and my son together and that was the final straw. I had waited so long for him and I was going to enjoy every minute of it damn it! So I went to a salon that supplied wigs to women going through illnesses that causes hair loss. It was very discreet and private and helpful. I chose a wig that even my family thought looked exactly like my real hair. In fact when I wore it, my extended family didn't even know. And then 2 weeks after paying $500 for this lovely wig, my hair started to grow back. At first it just looked like 5 o'clock shadow. You couldn't really see hair, but you couldn't see shiny bald either. And then gradually the hair grew and now it is about 2-3 inches long.

As soon as the head wasn't shiny bald anymore I stopped wearing the wig. The salon had told me that once the hair grows it needs the air and covering it would inhibit the growth. So I cut my hair all to one length (chin length) and although it was still very thin, it looked much healthier and you couldn't see bald spots.

When the hair started to get like stubble it actually looked quite nice. The other hair would cover it but the stubble gave it a lift and made it looker fuller. Now, however, the new hair is about 2-3 inches and sticks out all over my head. There is no styling it, it goes where it wants.

I am not too concerned about it though. At this point people can think it is normal pregnancy loss. I have post partum fringe. And I laugh about how funny it looks. I can do that now because I know that it is coming back, and that is all that is important.

Survivor's Guilt

While I was pregnant I felt only a modicum of survivor's guilt. Yes, it is true that I was pregnant, but I was not convinced I would stay that way. I did stay that way however, and have a brilliant little boy to show for it. And have found it increasingly hard to post ever since.

In the two months since my last post I have given serious consideration to giving up blogging. I hate that I have thought that. Blogging was my solace and comfort while I was stuck in the trenches. It brought me a lot of joy and a feeling of belonging. I hated watching the people I came to care about finally get pregnant only to have them disappear from the face of the earth. But blogging no longer brings that joy. It doesn't because so many of the people I care about are still in the trenches. They are still struggling, holding on to or losing the hope that it will one day work for them. I hate that my happy Mommy posts hurts them. It has been a serious dilemma for me.

My good friend Reality and I were discussing it. I told her that it all comes down to why you Blog in the first place. I began blogging because I felt like I had found a community I belonged to, a community I could not find in my real life. I also told her that I still need that community. That although I love my son, and absolutely love being a Mommy, that we are different from the Mommy's and children in the groups we attend. Last week at swimming lessons, the big discussion was which month they should give up birth control to ensure the optimal arrival of baby number 2. I really wanted to scream!

So here you have it. I am no longer going to be blogging about trying to conceive, fertility treatments, or the depression of getting my periods. For now, those things are no longer part of my life. I hope they will be again some day (which is my twisted way of saying, I hope to be able to try for child number 2). I will be blogging about my son, my dilemma about going back to work, and whatever else comes up in my day.

So many of the bloggers that began with me have also gone on to have babies. I know there is more than me who feels the thrill of success and knows the sting of not exactly fitting in the Mommy club. I know, unfortunately that this means some of you will no longer be able to read my blog (if anyone still checks this thing after the last 5 months). I am sorry, I will miss you.

For those of you who are staying, I think a change in post frequency is in order, don't you.

So I will try my best to post much more frequently! Starting now.

And in the spirit of my new Mommy blogging, how about a gorgeous picture of my little man!

Time Flies

I cannot believe my little man is three months old. THREE MONTHS OLD!!!!!

I had intended to document this journey chronologically but dammit, time flies. When he is awake I want to play with him, to interact with him, to watch him... When he is asleep there is SO much housework. I use to laugh at people who had pets and wanted to get rid of them when babies came along. My fur babies.... you got to be kidding me. One of my cats have been with me for 12 years now (since he was 6 weeks old). I LOVE him. But good gracious having cats who were allowed on the furniture, all hard floor surfaces and a baby sure makes for a lot of house work. I don't want to get rid of my fur babies. But I sure wish I had never allowed them on the furniture. I don't want the baby covered in cat hair. He puts everything (including his hands and his clothes) in his mouth these days. So I spend his sleeping hours brushing cat hair off my furniture and vacuuming and mopping the floors. And washing and sterilizing bottles (did I mention I hate bottles!)


Anyway, the idea of chronology leaves so much to be said that I find it overwhelming to post and I end up avoiding it. So instead I am starting from now. If I ever get a chance to go back I will, but if not, if you want the last 2 months you will have to come look at his baby book (which I haven't done yet of course).

So.... he is so grown up. At birth he was 5 llbs, 12 oz and 18 inches tall. He was under the 5th percentile for height and the 10 percentile for weight. At three months he was 12 lbs and 24.5 inches! He is now in the 75 percentile for height and the 50th for weight.

He is developing his own little personality. He loves his exersaucer (even though we have to support him with blankets because I am afraid his back isn't strong enough yet). He ABSOLUTELY LOVES the outdoors. He will sit in his stroller and watch the leaves and the birds for hours, even if we aren't walking. He is beginning to use his arms with purpose and is starting to pick up his toys and associate them with their intended use (can shake his rattle or squeeze his crinkly books). He loves to bounce and has very strong legs! When his back and neck are a little stronger he is going to love his jolly jumper. He makes sounds and will often imitate our facial expressions. I can get him to say ahhh.. by opening my mouth and saying ahhh.. and his daddy can get him to raise his eyebrows.

He is such a good baby. And I am loving him and loving my time with him.


It hasn't been all sunshine and roses. I had some post-partum (or post brain surgery) depression and was extremely paranoid. And sometimes I completely miss his cues. For example, poor little guy was just miserable for two days before it suddenly dawned on me that he was eating more often and miserable and it was time to put up his bottle already. But for the most part we are having a blast. Each stage is so exciting and although I look forward to the increase in him interacting with me, I am sad that my little baby is growing so fast and I can never get this time back.

I am going to end with some pictures but I also wanted to remind myself of some other topics I want to write about.


1. Why I couldn't (or didn't) try to relactate.
2. Why I am getting fitted for a wig on Thursday
3. How having a brain tumour has complicated trying for baby number 2 and increased my infertility woes.


Ok, here is my little man in his stroller, excited about our walk

Here he is enjoying his exersaucer.

Here he is trying to sit up all on his own (and although I caught this at the right time, he falls to the side quickly if you don't support him)

And here we are about to go down the slide for the first time

I think this is the last picture I took of us together because I am so self conscious of my head/hair. I hope to rectify that with the wig.


And for fun, here is one of him and his Daddy outside. Don't you think he looks like his Daddy?

My Son's Birth

Let's forget about how sick I was and my diagnosis for this post and concentrate on the very happy arrival of my son.

In one of my last posts before I went in the hospital, I told you I had professional maternity photo's done. I really loved being pregnant and wanted to capture how I felt in case I was never able to do it again. I loved the results and I think you can see in the two I am about to post, how very happy we were.

Just looking at these pictures makes me long for the days before I got the bad news. I want to enjoy my son's first year first, but then I want so badly to get pregnant again. I don't want my little boy to be an only child. Who knows if we can do it again.

Anyway....

Because of the brain tumour, the c-section (with spinal) was scheduled for Thursday morning. I was very ill and could not get out of bed. Therefore I was wheeled down to the delivery room in my hospital bed. The worse part of the whole delivery was getting the freezing for the spinal. Once the spinal was in I felt nothing. Well... that's not true, once they cut me open and were ready to take him out, I was told I would feel pressure in my diaphragm. It felt like I couldn't breathe but it only lasted a minute and then he was out. My perfect little prince. He was gorgeous (of course he was cleaned before I saw him). He weighed 5 lbs 12 oz and measured only 18 inches long. Here is a picture of Rick and I and our son, under the c-section tent while I am being stitched up.

Miraculously, the minute my little man was born I felt a tonne better. In fact after his birth, both my headache and my vomiting disappeared. I still couldn't write and I had bad balance but I was not physically ill anymore. Apparently this was due to the immediate drop in progesterone.

A little later in the recovery room, Rick was holding him when all of a sudden he asked the nurse if babies are born with the instinct to suck (he was sucking on Rick's neck). The nurse asked if I wanted to breast feed and of course I said yes. He was very good at it. He had a great latch and a strong suck. He was born at 8:30 am and 3:00 am that following night my milk came in. There was so much I had to pump a little before he could latch again. From then on our breast feeding was so easy. I had plenty of milk (in fact I pumped enough in those 10 days, while I was feeding him too, that he had breast milk the week I was in the hospital). Here is a picture of us in the hospital nursing.

I have no idea if it would have continued to be this easy. For 10 days I had total bliss. Well.. one night I had spaghetti sauce and the poor little dude screamed his head off for about 2 hours.. but I vowed never to eat spaghetti sauce again. But we had no latch problems, and I didn't get sore nipples. In fact he left the hospital 5 lbs 7 ozs and 2 days later was already 5 lbs 9 oz. And a week later 6.5.

Here is a picture of the little guy the day we got home from the hospital, you can really see how tiny he was.

Sadly however while I was in the hospital for my neurosurgery my milk dried up. I had rented an electric pump and had grand ideas about pumping and dumping during my hospital stay. My surgery was scheduled for 12:30 pm but I had to arrive and have a cat scan (with contrast dye) at 8:30. The surgery itself was 5 hours and then I spent 3 hours in the recovery room. My first opportunity to pump since I left home that day was 8:30 that night ( a full 12 hours). However, I was not capable of pumping by myself and I was in a step down ward (one step lower than ICU, where there are 4 patients and 1 nurse). Not only did I keep drifting in and out of sleep, but the other 3 patients were in much worse shape than me and the poor nurse had no chance to help me until 2:30 am. I did pump at that point and it completely and utterly drained me. I went to sleep and slept until 10:00 the next morning. Then I had to go for another MRI and then got moved to a private room. At this point pumping became much harder. I was on the neurosurgery floor and the nurses were run ragged (and not used to dealing with pregnancy or maternal issues). It was almost impossible to get their help with pumping. Besides that, I had decided not to bring my little man to the hospital for a visit because I was worried about germs, so I didn't want to wear myself out and prolong my hospital stay. Besides I really found pumping very draining at that point. After a 15 minute pump I would sleep for 3-4 hours. I generally only pumped about 2-3 times a day. By Friday when I could use the milk again, there was none left. I was disappointed at the time but rationalized saying that with all the medication I had been on and the 2 contrast dyes, the formula was probably better for him anyway. Of course I had been assured by the doctors that it would all be out of my system by now.

Now however, the loss of breastfeeding is my biggest regret and I can't help wondering if I could have done more to ensure I didn't lose it. If I knew then how I would feel now, could I have made myself pump more. I guess I will never know.

So.... My last post was Wednesday, May 23. At that time my headaches had gotten worse and I had gone to a walk in clinic and been diagnosed with an ear infection. I was surprised, I wasn't prone to ear infections, in fact, I hadn't had one since I was 9 years old.

On Friday, May 25th the headaches had gotten even worse. My head hurt so much when I tried to get up from laying down that I would moan in agony. I figured the medication for the ear infection should have worked by now so I went to my pre-natal clinic to make sure everything was ok with the baby. My OB actually came to the clinic himself. He did blood work and monitored the baby's heartrate and my contractions. He was positive the baby was fine. He was worried enough about my condition however, the he insisted I go to the ER about the headaches.

I went to the ER where I was taken in right away (something about a 36 week pregnant lady with severe headaches that makes people take you seriously). I was first seen by an ENT who declared that if I ever had an ear infection it was long gone and certainly not the cause of my headaches. Then I was seen by a neurologist. She was very concerned by the fact that the headaches had lasted so long and got so much worse when I tried to get up. She said the symptoms were indicative of a spinal fluid leak but was confused because I wouldn't have a spinal fluid leak without a spinal puncture (usually after a spinal tap or epidural). She wanted me to do a MRI but since she couldn't guarantee me it was safe for the baby, I refused. I told her that at this point I was so close to delivery I would rather wait and do the MRI after. Since my blood work showed I was a little dehydrated she gave me a litre of IV fluids and a migraine medication (intravenously). She consulted with my OB frequently. Since I was feeling better by the end of the day (I was there for 8 hours) they let me go. This neurologist was so nice however, and so concerned that she gave me her cell and pager number with strict instructions that if the headache got worse over the weekend I was to call her immediately and then proceed directly back to the ER. She also told me to come back Monday morning if the headache had not gotten better.

On Saturday I was scheduled to have what was supposed to be my last pre-natal class, however the week before had been cancelled due to instructor illness, so it was only my second class. I felt somewhat better on Saturday morning so I went to the class. The nurse/instructor gave me a nursing pillow and a yoga mat and made me lay down for the class. By the end of the day I felt a lot better.

Sunday, Rick and I were scheduled to do an infant first aid and CPR course. On Sunday morning I made Rick go to the clase and explain that we couldn't make it and why. I just wasn't feeling up to it. I did run out to the store and pick up a nursing pillow (figuring that since I felt better by the end of the day Saturday after lying on it all day, that maybe I was just not getting enough neck support and my headahces were kinked and tense muscles). I also bought the rocking chair for the babies room. I spent way more than I should (that's what happens when you shop with a severe headache, you tend to impulse buy what is really comfortable). I rationalized that I could sleep in the chair for the rest of my pregnancy since I was then convinced the problem was my sleeping position.

Sunday night I awoke in the middle of the night with a headache so bad I could not stop vomiting. When Rick woke to go to work, I asked him to take me back to the hospital. He was really angry that I had not woke him in the night as soon as I started getting sick. The same neurologist was there, and she admitted me immediately. They started the IV with fluid and the same migraine drug but it had no effect. She was insisting on the MRI and I was still refusing. I told her I would rather deliver the baby three weeks early then expose him to the MRI. I was then seen by the OB who convinced me to have the MRI, without the contrast dye. He explained that without the contrast dye the MRI was safe because unlike a cat scan, there is no radiation, MRI's are magnetic. He felt strongly it was safer to have the MRI and confirm a problem than deliver the baby 3 weeks early and then find out there was no need. The MRI was scheduled for the next morning. In the meantime, they gave me a steriod injection (through IV, I could keep nothing down). The same steriod they give to mature premature babies lungs in utero. The steriod injection made me feel much better and by the end of the day I was able to eat. I ordered Rick to go home, get a good night's sleep and go to work the next day (I wanted him to save his vacation time for when the baby came).

That night I started vomiting uncontrollably. Getting up to go to the bathroom was agony. The nurses insisted that in the morning I get a catheder. When Rick called at 7:00 before he left for work, I wouldn't tell him how sick I was, I told him I had not slept well and I would call him later.

My MRI was at 10:00. I managed to get through it without having to get up to vomit. Several of my family members called but I kept putting them off. I just wanted to sleep. At this point, I couldn't roll over in bed without vomitting. The catheder went in and I was able to sleep.

At 4:00 I decided I was lonely and called Rick. He told me he was already on his way (what he didn't tell me was that the nurese from my floor had called and asked him to come immediately). He was angry that I was alone all day (my Aunt was there and was supposed to be with me but I had asked her not to come in).

When he got there the lovely neurologist came in with some very sombre news. My MRI had come back and I had a large tumour on the lining of my brain. She stayed for almost an hour and I saw the OB (who scheduled the C section for Thursday morning at 8:00) and the neurosurgeon who would remove this tumour. There was a lot of information (most of it positive. how this was the best kind of brain tumour, almost always benign and usually easy to remove when found in the back of the head where mine was). Frankly it was just too much for me. I was in too much pain and was too angry that this was happening as I finally brought my son into the world, that night seems like such a blur. I can hardly remember it and have had to talk to my family in order to reconstruct many of the details. Anyway the long and short of it was that I was to have a section to deliver my little boy on Thursday and then go for neurosurgery to have the tumour removed the following Monday, 10 days later.

Just so you know what kind of family I have. Rick called my parents at approximately 6:00pm on Tuesday evening with the news (that would be 7:30 their time). The live a 4-5 hour plane ride away. They arrived 10:00 am on Wednesday. My brother and sister also were at my house in no time. Rick's family were already schedule to arrive that week. I can honestly say that although it was overwhelming to have so many people in my house, this whole experience has made me realize how very lucky I am to have my family. I love them so very much and I owe a lot of my recovery to the people who love me so much.

I am going to stop here for now. Partly because I am crying too hard to continue, and partly because I don't want to describe my son's birth on this very sad post.

More to come.

Harder than you think

As you know already (if anyone is still reading this blog), I am recovering from brain surgery. I should have used the word recovered, because although the doctor says 3-4 months, I am actually feeling like myself again. So much like myself that I have sent all of my company and help home (2 weeks ago) and am finally alone with my boy.

So why... if I have been alone for 2 weeks have I not posted? My sister was the last to leave and while she was here I had a legitimate excuse, she is very computer savy and I did not want her to find this site. But now... well now I have not posted because... well because frankly putting in writing what has happened in the last 2 months is harder than you think.

I want to document it, to journal it, to have it for myself. But every time I think about starting it, I procrastinate (which isn't hard to do these days). So... I have decided to do it one step at a time. A series of post that will take me from diagnosis to delivery, to neurosurgery, to awful paranoid recovery to today. I will include pictures of the baby at appropriate places so be forewarned.

Those 6 weeks were the hardest weeks of my life so far and although the birth of my son was the most joyous event of my life, there are so many regrets about his first few weeks... I think that is why I haven't posted. And why it will be so therapeutic to write it down and move on. So... that's enough for now. The first post will be coming soon.