Today I had an episode of ROTs (Random Outburst of Tears). I'm really confused as to where this emotion came from. Was it an overabundance of joy from our good news this week? First off Cheetah is a champ when it comes to weight. Last night she weighed in at 4lbs 11 ounces. Then she's moved from the isolet into a normal newborn bassinet. It means she's temperature regulating on her own and now losing weight in order to do so. The awesome thing for us is it means that I don't have to ask anyone if I can pick her up and there is no restriction on how long we can hold her outside of her bed anymore. Also uncle David came last night. This morning when the kids saw him they went nuts. Peach jumped off my bed, threw herself in his arms and refused to let him put her down for five hours. Gigi and Captain E ran around the run in huge circles singing, "Uncle David's here! Uncle David's here!" There has been some concern by family members about uncle David's actually ability to help out but the important thing is the kids adore him so when I left this afternoon for Cheetah's non nutritive feed there was no complaints from the peanut gallery and when I came home they were relatively clean, feed, and definitely entertained. Hard to complain about that! The again it may have been feelings of disappointment. When I went to change Cheetah today I noticed that her umbilical stump had finally fallen off and I felt this wave of sadness that it didn't happen at my house. That she's now going to be able to have a real bath and I'm not going to be the one to give it to her. That all her first thus far have been enjoyed by people other then myself. Then there is the stress. Net week we start nutritive feeds and I've made up a schedule that will allow me to be there at as many feeds as possible while maintaining some sense of normal for the kids. It goes like this.
8-9 am get kids ready for school.
9am take Captain E to school, miss the 9 o'clock feed.
9-11 am play with girls and get GG ready to go.
11 am leave girls with David
12 pm - feed Cheetah, while my friend Jamie picks GG up from our home and takes her to preschool.
2pm come home from hospital, do home stuff.
3-4pm pick up Gigi and Captain E from school, miss 3 o'clock feed
4-8 pm homework, dinner, get kids ready for bed, then leave for hospital
9 pm - feed Cheetah
12am - feed Cheetah
3 am - feed Cheetah
6 am - feed Cheetah
7:30 am drive back home
I'm not sure how this is going to work out yet, but by driving out to the hospital twice, and spending the night there I should be able to actually breast feed her 5 of the 8 times a day she eats while still being there for my children in the morning and in the evening when they really miss me the most. Yes I think it is weird that she is so scheduled but in the hospital with preemies feeds are almost like medicine and so you do what you have to do. Looking at it right now the schedule seems a little crazy and to say I'm not feeling some anxiety over it would be a lie, but it will probably take a week or two to even get up to full feeds and then hopefully we'll only have to do it two or three more weeks. Then there is the fear. What if she doesn't outgrow the Brady's soon? What if they keep her in the hospital until January? What if she won't breastfeed? I know I shouldn't feel this way, that I should just let it go, but with all the disappointments I've had, it feels like the most crushing would be if I can't get her to eat. And so all these things are swirling in my mind, weighing on my chest and so today when I was chatting with the nurse and asked her what Cheetah does in the day when I'm not there I just burst into tears. A full out ROTs to be sure. I tried wiping my eyes but couldn't get it together and finally just said to the nurse I was sorry. "Happens all the time," she said as she handed me some tissue. As I walked out to the car I was grateful to be in a hospital where girls crying through the halls aren't a totally uncommon site and most people had the decency to just give me an encouraging smile and look down.