The Grand Finale

I was a breastfeeding mother. And in the blink of an eye, I’m not anymore.

It’s weird to think that it’s over.

Nora and I have come to the end of our breastfeeding journey. It was 1 year, 2 weeks, and 1 day, and I breastfed her at least once every single day. I have never been apart from her for more than 24 hours. I was supposed to be, but the flight got cancelled, and the way things have worked out since then—I just haven’t been away from her to ever miss an entire day.

I didn’t know how it would end until we were right there at the finish line. On Monday night, as I prepared to nurse Nora before bed, I realized that I would be away from her for bedtime on Tuesday because of a work function. And since she started refusing bottles completely at the beginning of September, there was no way to offer her the bedtime feeding like we would have (by bottle) in the past. I’m big on not taking steps back after making steps forward—so I knew that if she successfully went to bed without nursing on Tuesday, I probably wouldn’t bother to pick it back up on Wednesday. I was suddenly faced with the very real possibility that this nursing session, the one I was minutes away from, was going to be our last.

Honestly, I’m OK with it. I didn’t cry, but I sat there and tried to take in as many of the details of it as possible. Her little lips positioned in the latch that I’m convinced has pretty much always been perfect. The way she sleepily, drunkly closes her eyes as she sucks. We are long past the days of her snuggling into me to nurse (she just lies there in my lap, with her head turned to the side), so I actually found myself reminiscing to earlier days, when nursing was more than just 5-10 minutes at bedtime.

I always planned to breastfeed. Truth be told, I think my mom would’ve killed me if I didn’t at least attempt it, but lucky for her (and me), I already had my own reasons for wanting to do so. Still, I went into it with realistic expectations; I knew that it did not work out for everyone, so every time someone asked me if I planned to breastfeed, I told them, “Yes, I’m going to try.” From the very beginning, I had lofty goals; I really wanted to make it at least six months, if not a full year. Aside from the bonding and health benefits, I was attracted to the money savings. My real goal was to never have to buy formula, as I’m too cheap to do so if I could feed her for free.

I forced myself to break the big goal into little pieces. Make it through the time in the hospital. Make it through the first week. Make it through the first three weeks (I had friends who swore that if you could make it that far, you’d be golden). Make it through maternity leave. Make it to six months. Make it to nine months. Make it to her first birthday. When Nora was born, they didn’t give her a lot of time up on my belly/chest. I regret not asking why or insisting that they leave her there longer, but it all happened so fast and I was so new to the whole experience that I went with the flow. They whisked her over to the baby bed, and seemed to keep her there forever. They never expressed concern at the time, but I found out later that her breathing was faster than they liked, so maybe that was the reason. But once I was stitched up and cleaned up, they swaddled up Nora and brought her over to me to nurse. I was prepared for this part—I had even come to the hospital wearing a nursing bra. Nora’s hungry little mouth opened and the nurse helped me get her latched on for those precious first few minutes.

An hour or two later, I was in the darkness of the room where I would be staying. Because the hospital was so busy, I was actually in there with another mother and baby (it was temporary)—a mother and baby who were already sleeping. As I got settled and the nurse left me—just me and my baby on one side of the curtain, while the second mother slept with her baby on the other—Nora suddenly started to scream. I panicked a little, not wanting to disturb our roommates. I figured she was hungry, so I did my best to get her latched on myself.

As it turns out, I did it completely wrong, because it hurt like hell, and my poor boobs took days to heal from that initial mistake. When we were discharged a few days later, Nora suddenly decided she didn’t want to nurse anymore. It ended up that she was hungry and frustrated that my milk had not come in yet. Lucky for me, my milk came in full force that very same night, but I still could not convince Nora that nursing was worth her time and effort. It was a hell of a night, with my poor, crying baby starving, and me bawling because I thought she was rejecting me (hormones, y’all). The next day, with a trip to the pediatrician to meet with a nurse/lactation consultant, we were back on track.

We’ve never looked back.

I had a stellar breastfeeding experience. For the first 4-6 months, I had an oversupply which allowed me to not only completely satisfy Nora, but to build up quite the impressive freezer stash. I eventually worked my way up to somewhere around 400 oz. Our freezer was FULL of breast milk. Once I healed from that first solo feeding in the dark, I never had any pain. I never suffered from mastitis. I believe I had a clogged duct once, but it cleared up within a day. I have a supportive workplace that provided a private “mommy suite” office where I could pump every day—the first month back, I pumped three times a day, but ultimately found that I could still match her intake (or even have excess) by dropping to two sessions. Nora had no problems switching back and forth between the breast and bottle. I used to look at her growth and think to myself, “MY BODY is doing that”—it’s an incredible feeling of accomplishment. I attribute the loss of all of my baby weight (and then some) to breastfeeding. I was able to wear my regular jeans again when Nora was just 11 days old. For the first time in my life, I found that I could eat whatever the hell I wanted without worrying, and THAT.IS.GLORIOUS.

I dropped pumping in August. Back in the day, I didn’t mind pumping. Then, over the weeks and months, I slowly grew to hate it. Breastfeeding Nora was not a chore, but pumping sure was. Once we were in the “home stretch” approaching her first birthday, I knew I still had enough of a freezer stash to get me through, so I dropped one session, and then the other.

Then, a few days after Nora’s birthday, I dropped the morning nursing session, but we were hanging on to the bedtime one. I knew I would stop, and that it would probably be soon, but I just wasn’t sure HOW I would stop. It was admittedly hard for me to pull the trigger.

And then the trigger was kinda-sorta pulled for me on Monday. It made sense to stop. So we did.

There are advantages to being done. I don’t HAVE to feed her anymore. Michael (or anyone else) is just as capable of doing it as I am, because she drinks cow’s milk from a sippy cup, and finger foods from the tray of her high chair. I haven’t been drunk, or even experienced a strong buzz, in nearly two years. Pumping was so much work, and each drop of milk so precious, that I could not imagine “pumping and dumping.” I never wanted to. And now I could go and drink a whole bottle of wine without concern. Not that I would (often). Nora initiates early-morning wake-up calls, you know. My body is “mine” again for the first time since January 2010. No one is counting on it to grow a human being, or feed one.

Breastfeeding was wonderful. I plan to do it again some day. I will look back on it fondly. I will remember Nora’s tiny little body curled into mine. I’ll remember the feeling of her sleeping up against me in bed when we would doze off during middle of the night (side-lying) feedings. I’ll remember the months when she became more alert, and wanted to unlatch every five seconds to look at the world around her. I'll remember the way she used to grab onto one of her feet and do her "cheerleader stretches" while eating. I’ll remember her funny “acrobatic nursing” as she approached toddlerhood, when she would try to put herself in crazy positions while continuing to nurse. I will remember.

It’s sad that it’s over, but mostly I’m just happy. Lucky. Grateful. Proud.

And in need of a good push-up bra.

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Solidarity

When Nora was born, my intention was to exclusively breastfeed her until she is six months old, as that is the current recommendation from the World Health Organization (WHO), the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), etc. I knew that realistically, we might not make it all the way to six months, but I figured it was a good goal to have.

Then, when we were at Nora's four-month pediatrician appointment in January, our doctor told us that she was very happy that Nora was doing so well with the breastfeeding. She asked how long I intended to nurse her, and I told her six months, which she was very pleased with. However, she recommended starting some solid foods before I originally planned. Her reasoning is that apparently, the "very few" babies who do make it all of the way to six months without starting solids tend to have problems accepting solids. So, our doctor encouraged us to start rice or oatmeal cereal once a day between five and six months old, just to get her used to the idea of eating solids prior to six months of age.

Alrighty, simple enough.

Despite her recommendations, we weren't in a huge hurry to start solids. For one, breastfeeding has been really EASY, and to add another activity (like preparing and feeding Nora solids) into our daily routine is OK, but not something I was dying to do. Secondly, THE POOP. I was not looking forward to changes in Nora's poop--especially since we cloth diaper. Breastfed baby poo is no big deal, easy to handle, easy to clean... *sigh* Change is hard, y'all.

Anyway, on Thursday, when Nora was about 5 months and 1 week old, we figured we better bite the bullet and start working on solids with Nora. And frankly, we had reason to suspect she was ready. For weeks, she has been OBSESSED with watching us eat, trying to grab our food, putting anything and everything into her mouth, etc.

When we got home from work and daycare, she seemed to be in a good mood, so I mixed up some baby oatmeal cereal with some breast milk. (We are skipping rice cereal... at least the white rice variety. Interested in knowing why? We are following the philosophy of the "WhiteOut" campaign.) As I approached her with it, she seemed pretty interested, and even opened her mouth as I moved the spoon toward her lips.

As you can see, she had a perplexed look on her face, but she didn't react negatively. She swallowed most of it, so I repeated with another spoonful. Then another.

And then she even smiled! I thought... SUCCESS.

As we got further into the feeding, she was spitting out more and more of it, until ultimately she was refusing it altogether. But she had consumed several spoonfuls (tiny spoonfuls, but still), so we were happy. We figured that for her first time, she had done fantastically! We were feeling pretty good about the situation.

Then came Friday night. I mixed up the oatmeal exactly as I had on Thursday, except she WOULD.NOT.EAT.IT. I placed the first spoonful in her mouth, she spit it out, made a face, and cried. Then refused to take anymore. We figured maybe she was not feeling it that night, but I was surprised because it just seemed like she suddenly HATED it.

After asking for some advice on Facebook, several friends told us that maybe she just doesn't care for the taste of the oatmeal. "Have you tried it? It tastes like cardboard," one of my friends said. A few people suggested mixing some fruit (banana or applesauce) in with the oatmeal to see if she would take it that way. So, tonight, we tried a little banana in with the oatmeal.

FAIL. Complete fail.

Nora started crying as soon as the spoon came toward her lips, and refused to even really taste it. She pursed her little lips together and would not even let me get the spoon in there! I'm not really sure where to go from here...

We're toying around with trying some other "beginner" foods, like sweet potato or pears.
I picked up some whole grain rice cereal; maybe she'll prefer that over oatmeal.
Maybe she's just not ready.

Whatever the case, this is certainly not as easy as I thought it would be!

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One Month Old

Dear Nora,

You are one month old today. I can hardly believe it, as it still seems like just yesterday that you were born. Instead of expressing your age in days and weeks, we can now say you are one month old. Amazing.

One month and one day ago, I didn't have you in my life. It's actually hard to remember those days now. You've only been here for 30 days, but you fit into our lives so perfectly that it almost seems like you have been here all along.

Before you were born, some of our friends with kids told us not to worry if, after you arrived, we had feelings of “Oh my gosh, what did we do?” because it’s natural for new parents to feel overwhelmed with such a big change in their lives. Daddy and I talk frequently about how neither of us felt those feelings—not for one minute. Don’t get us wrong, there are challenging times, but still, there is joy to be found in it all. I guess we were just REALLY ready for you. And having all of those friends and family members who became parents before us—well, maybe their experiences helped us to have very realistic expectations.

You are growing and changing every day. As your mommy, I am faced with the dichotomy of wanting to see you grow, and wanting you to stay this small forever. I worry that as you grow bigger, I won't be able to remember you ever being this little--it makes me sad. But Daddy and I make a conscious effort to enjoy every minute of your life at this moment, drinking in every detail of you. The smell of your hair, your tiny little ears, the way you suckle in your sleep, the turn of the corners of your mouth as you smile your gassy newborn smiles. The way you stare at us with your wide open, blue-gray eyes. Your long fingers, and your teeny-tiny replicas of Daddy's toes.

At night, when we get ready for bed, I put a fresh diaper on you, change you into your pajamas, and nurse you in the glider chair in your room. Instead of falling asleep for the night at the breast, you are usually very alert and awake after your bedtime feeding. I burp you, then swaddle you in your swaddle blanket and give you your pacifier (which you LOVE). I carry you into our bedroom and pass you to Daddy to snuggle in bed while I get myself ready for sleep.

Once we're all in bed together, Daddy and I spend a few minutes just staring at you. You look like a little glow worm or a burrito when you're all wrapped up in your swaddle, with just your head showing. It's adorable. But the thing we enjoy the most is the way you suck on your pacifier. As the rest of your body lies still in the dark, all cuddled inside your blanket, the only movement we can see is the back and forth movement of your binky. We joke about how you look like Maggie from The Simpsons.

Sometimes we'll read you bedtime stories or poems. Daddy kisses you goodnight and rolls over to get some sleep, as he has to get up for work in the morning. I'll usually stay awake a little longer, snuggling you until you start to drift off, or sometimes, until you're out like a light. I say a little prayer, kiss you, and put you into your Rock 'N' Play bassinet, then sleep as I await your awakening for your middle of the night feeding.

It is moments like these--the simple, everyday, seemingly mundane things--that are now so much more special because we have you with us.

You are a great sleeper. On a normal night, you’ll generally sleep between four and seven hours before waking me to eat. Some nights, you decide to get up more often than that, but that’s rare for you. When you were about three weeks old, though, you went through a growth spurt and you were eating like a champ every few hours—you had me up several times throughout the night those days—but it only lasted maybe 3-4 nights before you were back to your usual. We know how lucky we are, because other parents tell us so! I’m seriously thankful every day, and I try to prepare myself for your good sleep habits to end. So far, they continue, and you’ve been a dream. Remind me to thank you for this when you’re older, OK? All I can say is, I hope you’re not going to make us pay for this during your teen years. :)

If I’m being 100% honest, there are nights when you spend a few hours sleeping with me—oops! I know it’s not a good habit, but sometimes I’ll drift off while I’m waiting for you to drift off. And sometimes, you’ll be a little fussy and you just want to be held. Some mornings, you’ll fuss early and I’ll tuck you into the crook of my arm in bed so we can both get another hour or two of sleep. I try not to feel guilty about this, as parents have been doing this for centuries. Plus, I know that these times will not last forever, so instead of looking at it like it’s wrong, I choose to just enjoy it while it lasts. As you get older, there will be plenty of nights for you to sleep alone in your crib.

The mornings are some of my favorite times with you. I love busting you out of your swaddle in the morning, and it almost always results in the most amazing baby stretches. You stretch out your whole body, from your head to your toes. Your arms fly up over your head and your legs and feet flex—it’s hilariously cute.

You still nap a lot during the day. Some days, it seems like all you do is sleep, while other days, you have much more awake time. You sleep in your Rock ‘N’ Play, which we pull out into the living room during the days, or in your vibrating bouncy seat. You also like to sleep while being held (surprise, surprise). In the evenings, we sometimes lie on the couch and let you sleep on our chests, which just may be our favorite way to snuggle you.

We are both doing really well with breastfeeding. I love it, and I’m pretty sure you do, too. (But then again, you’re a baby, and I think it’s in your nature to love it.) I was totally determined to breastfeed and am so happy that it is working out for the two of us. We have mastered nursing in the car when we’re out and about, and thankfully, we’ve also become really good at the whole side-lying thing for your middle-of-the-night meals (it.is.AWESOME).

I don’t know much about baby neck muscles, but I think you have amazing head control for your age. Other people say so, too, so surely it must be true? Your head is not very “floppy” at all, as you hold it up very well on your own. When I put you up on my shoulder to burp you, you are always pulling your head away from my shoulder and turning your head from side to side, looking all around. You follow things with your eyes, and seem to really like the Fisher Price jungle music/lights thingy in your crib.

Although you’re not “doing” much these days, I could still stare at you all day long. You are such a miracle, and we feel so blessed to have you. I promise to continue to cherish you. Thank you for choosing me to be your mommy. It’s been an amazing first month, and we can’t wait for the next.

We already love you more than we ever knew possible.

Hugs and kisses,
Mommy

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Bottles Up

In her three weeks of life, I have fed Nora well over one hundred times. With the exception of a cup feeding or two that the nurses gave Nora the night I spiked a fever in the hospital, I have been responsible for every meal that Nora has ever had.

Until tonight.

Tonight, Nora had her first bottle.

I always knew that giving Nora a bottle was going to be a necessity--I have to go back to work eventually, and she will be in daycare. Not only that, but I'm going to be away from her at some point in her infancy, right? ;) Even so, I hadn't given the introduction of the bottle much thought until a few days ago. I started asking around and doing some reading, and as it turns out, it sounds like 3-4 weeks old is the ideal time for introducing a bottle to a baby. And actually, it works out pretty perfectly since it would be really nice for Nora to be able to take a bottle on my brother's wedding day, when she'll be with my in-laws for a little bit--and the wedding is in two weeks!

On Thursday, I started preparing. I pulled bottles out of their boxes and sterilized them. I started reading about the best way to give the first bottle--let daddy do it, mommy should leave the room, start with two ounces, etc.

I'm not going to lie: I've been dreading it a little bit. Although I was excited for Michael to have the chance to feed her, and there is a certain level of freedom that returns with her taking a bottle, I just felt SAD about it. There is part of me that has really enjoyed the fact that I've been the only one who can feed her.

I really love breastfeeding; it's my time with her. I love looking down at her while she feeds, watching her hungry little lips and her droopy little eyelids, knowing that she is as comfortable and secure as she could possibly feel. Thankfully, though, that's not going to go away. I'll continue to breastfeed for most of her feedings, but Michael will now get to participate, too, as he'll be giving her a bottle every evening. But we had to start with that very first bottle, and well...

...Today was the day.

I pumped three ounces this morning and prepared a two-ounce bottle for her. When we got home this evening and she began to act hungry, I warmed it up, and I handed it over. And the little one went to town.

She really, REALLY went to town.

Nora polished off the two ounces in just a few minutes. She didn't even seem to mind that 1) I never left the room, 2) the milk was still a bit cool from the refrigerator and, 3) you know, THAT IT WAS COMING OUT OF A PIECE OF PLASTIC. So I warmed up the third ounce, and she chugged that like it was her job. The whole three ounces--GONE before I even knew it.

If only I could pump it that quickly. Damn.

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A New Life

The last five days have been both a whirlwind and an eternity. I can't believe Nora is already nearing the one-week mark, but I also can't believe that it was ONLY five days ago that I pushed her out into the world. It seems like she's been in our lives forever, and I already can't imagine not having her with us.

So how do we sum up the last five days? Well, there's a lot to say, so excuse me while I babble on and show you about 500 pictures of our baby girl. Since I'm so behind, this is going to be the LONGEST POST EVER. I apologize in advance if I bore the crap out of you. But LOOK! Pretty pictures! (Hopefully that makes up for it?)

Mama and Nora, shortly after delivery

Following Nora's birth, I was put on an IV drip of Pitocin to stimulate contractions in my uterus so that it would begin to return to its normal size. Because the hospital was so busy, we were able to hang out in our delivery room for quite a while before being transferred to the room where I would spend the remainder of my recovery days. But when I was moved, I had to do something they almost never have to do at the hospital--I had to share a room! I was wheeled into someone else's room and had to share it with her for about three hours, at which time she was discharged and I was left with a private room (thank goodness!).

I had a really awesome stay in the hospital. Honestly, it was all due to my nurses--I loved every single one of them. Well, with the exception of my discharge nurse. She sucked. Thankfully, by that time, we were on our way out, so it didn't much matter.

On Saturday, because Nora was born so early in the morning, I actually got several hours with her all on my own before we had anyone else come up to the hospital. That was really nice. Of course, my mom was there when she was born, and my in-laws stopped up shortly after, but everyone headed back home to go back to sleep and let me get some rest. I never did sleep (although exhausted, I think I was running on excitement and adrenaline), but it was still nice to have some quiet time.

My dad had left Virginia around 2:30 a.m., and he arrived at the hospital around 10:30. He was very happy to get his hands on his first granddaughter! :)

Throughout the afternoon, we had several visitors, including proud aunties Marie and Kara, and big cousin, Hunter.

Unfortunately, Uncle Trevor was away at drill for the National Guard, and Uncle Tyler had to work all day. But in the evening, Tyler and my dad came back up so he could meet Nora.

After that, everyone headed home, including Michael so he could get some rest (and tend to Tessa at home). I sent the baby to the nursery so I could get some sleep as well. I was surprised when I woke up to go to the restroom and saw that I had been sleeping for five hours without them bringing Nora in. Sure enough, a few minutes later the nurse wheeled her into the room saying she was hungry.

The nurse got me settled into feeding the baby, and as I sat there, I suddenly began to shake uncontrollably. It started with a chill that ran up my spine and quickly turned into teeth chattering. I pressed my call button and the nurse came in, whisked the baby back to the nursery, then came back to try to relieve my chills. She loaded me up with about six regular blankets, plus two heated blankets, heat packs, and turned the thermostat up. Still, I was shaking violently, which was tremendously uncomfortable. The nurse also repeatedly took my temperature, and soon enough, I was spiking a 102-degree fever. :( My chills finally subsided, and I was seen by a doctor who started me on IV antibiotics to treat an infection she suspected was beginning in my uterus. So that was some unexpected excitement in the middle of the night on Saturday/Sunday.

Throughout the rest of my hospital stay, I never did experience any other symptoms of infection, but I had to be on 24 hours of the IV antibiotics. Not a big deal, but it sucked to have the IV line back in my hand, since I had been so glad when they took it out on Saturday afternoon (after the Pitocin and fluids were done).

On Sunday, we had several more visitors including family and friends. Aunt Cristina drove home from college to meet her new niece...

...and a large group from Michael's side of the family came as well.

At 1:00, the Bills game started, and we hosted my family (both brothers, Kara, Marie, Hunter, and my dad) in the room for a good portion of the game.

My dad hit the road to return to Virginia at around 3:00 p.m. It was too short of a stay, but he'll be back in a few weeks for Tyler and Marie's wedding, so we'll get to see him again soon.

Sunday evening was quiet. Michael and I got to enjoy some family time with Nora, which was nice. I also trimmed the little bugger's nails for the first time, since she had been clawing me with her daggers.

On Monday morning, I was told that I was going to be discharged since my fever/infection had not reared its ugly head again.

We had a relaxing morning in our room, and we got Nora dressed in clothes for the first time ever. I loved her little going home outfit! A few weeks ago, we went shopping and bought a little boy's outfit and a little girl's outfit for going home.

The TIGHTS. Oh my gosh, they put me over the edge. Too cute.

We were held up a bit by a few different things, none of which were helped by my shitty nurse, but we finally left the hospital around 2:30 p.m.

Ready to go!

Baby Nora slept the whole way home, and seemed to like the car. I sat in the back seat with her, of course. :)

Once home, things kind of changed for the worst, to be honest. First, Tessa was so freaked out by Nora that it was completely overwhelming for Michael and I. She wanted to be all over the baby, was whining incessantly, and generally being a pain in the ass. We knew to expect this, but still--things had been so much easier in the hospital!

My emotions hit me full force. I had been so excited to come home, and once we were here, all I wanted to do was go back. It sounds funny, but I was sad that the hospital part was over. I would think about my wonderful nurses and cry because I knew I would never see them again. All I can say is that hormones are evil bitches.

A few pics of Nora in her crib at home...

To add to my stress, Nora suddenly decided to stop eating. I had a little trouble getting her to latch on Monday morning (around 10 a.m.) while we were still in the hospital. She had been doing really well prior to that, so I didn't think much of it, and a nurse was able to help me get her fed. Before we left the hospital, I called the lactation consultant to have her come help me, as she had told me beforehand that she could show me how to get Nora on the breast in a less painful way (I was SUPER sore on the right side). Well, even with the LC's help, we couldn't get her to wake enough to feed. The LC said that she just wasn't hungry and to try again when we got home.

And well, I tried. And tried again. And again. And again.

Every time I put Nora into the feeding position and tried to get her to latch, she would scream bloody murder. And when I'd take her away, she'd settle right down and go back to sleep. I didn't worry too much at first, but by 8 p.m., it had been 10 HOURS since my little one had eaten and I knew something wasn't right. I was extremely frustrated that my daughter suddenly "did not want me" and I called the pediatrician's after hours line.

The pedi on call suggested trying to cup feed Nora some formula to "take the edge off" her hunger. She said that Nora was likely OVER-hungry at this point, and because my milk hadn't come in yet, she had grown frustrated and didn't want to put the effort into nursing to get so little food. So we cup fed her formula, and I was able to get her to latch for a while. We thought everything was looking up.

But as the night (and middle of the night) wore on, she became increasingly agitated with breastfeeding and all we could do was give her the cup. My milk did end up coming in the middle of the night--the pedi had also suggested trying to pump, and I was suddenly able to get a really good amount pumped. Still, Nora wouldn't take the breast--only the breast milk from the cup.

The pediatrician's office called first thing on Tuesday morning to see how the overnight had gone, and when I said it had been pretty terrible, they told me they wanted us to come in later that morning.

At the doctor's office, Nora was weighed. At birth, she was 6 lbs., 10 oz. At discharge from the hospital, she was 6 lbs., 1 oz. On Tuesday, she was 5 lbs., 15 oz.

Our appointment was with the nurse practitioner, and she was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. She watched as I tried to feed Nora and saw how Nora was reacting. She went and got a couple bottles of formula, had me feed a little bit to Nora, and then asked me to try breastfeeding again. She showed me a different way to get her latched so she would likely get more milk, and therefore be more satisfied. Sure enough, the little one latched right on.

The nurse practitioner told us to keep cup feeding her to take the edge off at the beginning of the feeding, then see how she'd do with the new way to latch. She said they wanted us to come back the next day (Wednesday) to see how things were going and see the pediatrician.

Well, guess what? We got home and never had to go back to cup feeding. Nora suddenly decided to become a breastfeeding champion again, and we've been doing well ever since.

When we went back to the pediatrician yesterday, Nora's weight was up to 6 lbs., 4 oz. Little one gained FIVE OUNCES in just 24 hours!! The pediatrician actually laughed because it was such an awesome gain. The pedi was able to give us some extra reassurance that everything was normal and we were doing fine.

Also, Tessa has been making huge strides. She is SO MUCH BETTER now than she was when we first got home. I was honestly freaking out inside on that first day, thinking there was no way she was ever going to adjust, but I was wrong. She is doing beautifully, and although she still has her moments (mostly when Nora is crying), she is gentle and totally fine around the baby. In fact, check out this photo of the four of us snuggling in bed yesterday morning...

It's such a relief.

The sleep deprivation has been a little bit of a challenge, but it's actually way better than I expected it to be. I guess I can handle living with less sleep than I thought I could. We'll see how it goes over the next few weeks, though, as I know it has only been a few days at this point.

We've also been able to get out of the house, which is nice. We've run a few errands each day, and this morning, we actually went out to breakfast.

All in all, we're doing really well at home now. We love this little girl so much that it hurts. It's incredible how you can develop a bond like that in such a short period of time. I just want to hold, snuggle, hug and kiss her all of the time. I love my life.

OK, I'll finally shut up now, and leave you with a few more photos of our little one. We couldn't be more proud. :)

P.S. For those who have been asking... nursery reveal will be coming (hopefully) very soon. Also, I'll be posting about the winner of the Heather Drive Baby Pool! Stay tuned. :)

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