Princess was sent home with elevated billirubin levels. The doctor seemed to think that with enough feeding and sunlight she would get over the jaundice without additional day under a billirubin blanket.

In addition, Monkey had developed the sniffles which a few days later turned into a full blown cold. Luckily, he had no fever so our daycare provider graciously kept letting him come — even keeping him late one night just to keep his germs away from Princess!

Well, it rained Monday – Thursday. Not much sunlight. So each day we took her back to the hospital to be tested (involving a pin prick to her foot to gather blood each time). Not fun. And each day the doctor would call back saying the levels had crept up a bit but to stay the course essentially.

When I got the call Thursday, I became a little mad when the nurse told me she couldn’t find a medical rental agency in our vicinity that had a blanket available. I told her I’d be willing to drive one state over if necessary, but apparently she was done calling around. Again, stay the course.

So I started to worry that maybe my supply wasn’t enough and perhaps I should express milk that night just so we’d know exactly how much she was getting. I was having flashbacks to when Monkey had jaundice and ended up giving him a bottle on day two because I couldn’t get a hold on the breastfeeding thing.

Next morning, it was sunny so I put her in our bedroom window which catches the most sunlight at that time of day. Then after an hour or so of sunlight went back yet again to the hospital.

As we were leaving the hospital, I started to shiver uncontrollably. I was freezing. When we got home I felt really ill and changed into some sweatpants and put my robe on but was still shivering. My MIL said my lips were bluish white and told me to lay down. She covered me with two blankets and that helped. I fell asleep for about an hour but when I got up, nothing had changed.

That’s when I decided to take my temperature. 104.1! I took some ibuprofen and waited a half hour–104.3! It was then that I decided to to the ER. My MIL drove me there but just as we were getting in the car, my daycare provider called and said Monkey’s cough was getting worse and that he was miserable. I explained what was going on and she agreed to keep him anyway.

So why did I have a fever? Mastitis! On week one! They gave me IV fluids and antibiotics — within two hours the fever was down enough that I could go home.

Tough week but with help of those around us, the cirque family made it through. Ever thankful for my family and friends!

Not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, but about a year after Monkey was born I started therapy because I was severely depressed.  The therapist said that it was probably prolonged from not treating post-partum depression right away.  So I went on Paxil, then Zoloft and it turned out to be the best decision for me.  I was able to concentrate more, be focused on things that mattered and not dwell endlessly on those things which didn’t.

I had to go off of the medication during Princess’ third trimester and I decided when I found that I was pregnant that I would go off of it for the entire pregnancy.  That was difficult but gave me a peace of mind that anything she could end up having disability-wise, wouldn’t be from me taking Zoloft.  I started the medication right away after giving birth to her and I think it has definitely helped.  That along with the super easy delivery of Princess.  I didn’t tear as much this time and I feel great overall — not worn out and battered.

Anyway, I’m writing this because if anyone out there is struggling after having given birth, don’t wait to see someone about it.  Don’t tough it out or think it’s normal to be that miserable.  Get some help so you can enjoy your baby sooner than later.

Yesterday, at 5:23 pm, our little girl came into the world. I started the Pitocin at 8:45 am (ish) and the doctor broke my water around 9:30, I think. Then the contractions started and I wimped out — getting the epidural around 10:45. The original nurse made a prediction of 1:00 pm and I think that got my hopes up. So when 3:00 rolled around and the next nurse came in and stated I was only dialated 3-4 cm, I was very discouraged. She along with my surrogate nurse, my MIL (who did wonderfully, BTW, in keeping my spirits high), kept informing me of the major contractions I was having, trying to cheer me up (I was REALLY numb and couldn’t even feel my left leg).

But then the epidural started to wear off and I could feel a little more pain and pressure (I kept telling the nurse it felt like I had to poop really bad and had severe constipation cramps) and the contractions were definitely strong. DH helped by reminding me of the breathing techniques. By 4:00, I had dialated to 5 cm and by 5:00 I was at 10 — with a “top off” on the epidural for the finale!

The doctor came in and within 5 contractions and 10 pushes, our little girl was out! It was SOOOO easy. Thank God for modern medicine!

I WANT MY BODY BACK!  In the worst way, seriously.  People keep telling me that I should cherish this time because at least I’m not getting up in the middle of the night.  These people obviously either A) have never been pregnant or B) have completely forgotten what the end of the third trimester is like.  I’m already getting up at least 4 times a night to “pee” — I’m using quotes because sometimes it feels like I’m going to pee 5 cups full and all I get is a tiny weeny trickle.  Not to mention the hip pain which causes me to switch positions, oh I dunno, maybe 25 times a night (poor DH having to deal with that).  Anyway, wah.  Looking forward to fitting into real clothes and being able to move about without pain or feeling breathless.

It has really come to my attention recently that DH and I have this parenting one kid thing down.  We’re pretty good at just taking responsibility for various tasks and chores and the load on most nights is pretty evenly split (depending on work schedules, etc.).  And here we are, brilliantly adding another human being to the equation.  Reminds me of that one New Order line, “Work your way to the top of the world, then break your life in two.”  That’s what we’re doing essentially.  I only pray that since we’ve assimilated one kid into our lives and finally have it down that the next round will be shorter.

The big day is Friday.  I decided to get induced this time for a number of reasons.  As many of you can probably tell from recent posts, I don’t make the best pregnancy candidate.  I HATE being pregnant.  But giving Monkey the sibling I never had was important for me, thus the second go at this.  Also about 3 weeks ago, the sonogram tech said that baby girl was 6 pounds.  And if she truly gained a pound per week since then, well then she’s 9 pounds now and would have been 10 by her original due date.  Didn’t quite find the idea of squeezing out a 10 pound baby that appealing and I really want to avoid a cesarean.  Monkey was born vaginally and it went well.  I’m hoping for the same this time.

I’m nervous about this decision because I’ve read too much crap online basically.  The doctor has assured me that getting induced doesn’t mean automatic cesarean or two days worth of labor.  And I’ve done my own poll of friends/co-workers and the majority of them who were induced didn’t go much beyond 8 hours (the same as what the doctor said).  It’s hard not to worry though.  Am I pushing things too much?  What if something goes wrong?  Will I then regret getting induced?  I need to put these thoughts out of my head and just trust that my doctor is correct and that everything will be fine.

Sorry for the randomness of this post.  Blame it on the hormones.

Rule 1: Life is not fair – get used to it!

Rule 2: The world doesn’t care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

Rule 3: You will NOT make $60,000 a year right out of high school. You won’t be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.

Rule 4: If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.

Rule 5: Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your Grandparents had a different word for burger flipping: they called it opportunity.

Rule 6: If you mess up, it’s not your parents’ fault, so don’t whine about your mistakes, learn from them.

Rule 7: Before you were born, your parents weren’t as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you were. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent’s generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

Rule 8: Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life HAS NOT. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they’ll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. This doesn’t bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

Rule 9: Life is not divided into semesters. You don’t get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF. Do that on your own time.

Rule 10: Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

Rule 11: Be nice to nerds. Chances are you’ll end up working for one.