Hila is cute

I'm holding a mirror in front oh Hila and she is smiling and laughing at the new friend she's just made! This may possibly be the cutest she's ever been. Maybe she's so happy because she finally sees how adorable and perfect she is. She finally gets why we're crazy about her.

Do you think she really thinks that its another person?

NOTE: She is going crazy! She is laughing and talking and sqealing and kicking. For a long time! I'd get the camera but I need to keep holding the mirror (I'm typing with one hand...a skill I've gotten to be extremely good at!). And the camera needs to be charged. But I do wish I could capture this....

Get ready for a really boring post...

Last night as I was trying to fall asleep I was thinking about very important things. Like if I could think of a fruit or vegetable for every letter of the alphabet. In some ways I did extremely well (like Duriun for D) and in some ways I was just stumped (like N???).

So here is my list. This is without the help of anyone or Google or anything. There are a few gaps in there.

A - apple
B - bananas
C - carrots
D - durian
E - eggplant
F - figs
G - grapes
H - horseradish
I - iceberg lettuce
J - jackfruit
K - kale
L - lemons
M - mango
N - I keep thinking noodles. But that doesn't count. Neither do nuts.
O - onions
P - pears
Q - quince
R - radish
S - strawberries
T - tomatoes (that took me a long time!)
U -
V -
W - watermelon
X -
Y - yucca (I think people eat that)
Z - zucchini

P has a lot: peppers, pineapple, passion fruit, papaya

Told you this would be boring.

Having a good day

That subject is not meant to imply that there's anything strange about me having a good day. I generally have good days, but today has been exceptionally good.

Hila woke up in her regular sunshiney mood. She is a morning person, but not too early a morning person, generally waking up around 9 or 10, which is nice for her mommy and daddy. We had a fun morning, watched 24, ate a healthy breakfast, played a little, Hila napped -- the usual.

Then Menachem went to work and Hila and I hung out some more. When I saw she was ready for her next nap, I wrapped her up in my cozywrap and walked up to Palmach. I did some grocery shopping at Mr. Z and then went to get a cafe kar dal shuman im ktzat sucar loh katush (but then I said "not blended" in English because I wasn't sure of that last part) at Duvshanit. I sat outside and read an article about press releases while Hila slept like a little angel wrapped up close to me.

Then Tiff called and we'd been playing phone tag for a while so that was nice. Then I went home in time to feed a waking Hila. And then I convinced Menachem that we desperately need this Sit'n'Stroll 5-n-1 Combination Carseat/Stroller that I saw on Janglo. And it looks like Hila is taking another nap in her swing.

Life's good here in the 'lem.

To nurse or not to nurse...that is the question.

Welcome to the latest edition of adventures in breastfeeding staring me and Hila! Yes, there are still adventures to be told. After a one month and then six weeks and then two months and then Pesach deadlines, I am still breastfeeding. Every day feels like it may be my last and then I wake up the next day (or in the middle of the night) feeling full of milk (relatively speaking), reenergized, and I can't imagine quitting.

We are still supplementing with formula, but with a lot less than the last time I wrote. Back then I was mainly giving her formula and supplementing with little sips of breastmilk here and there; now, while it's still mostly formula, it is much closer to 50/50. Before every bottle Hila nurses from both sides for about 10-30 minutes, depending on my milk supply and depending on Hila's mood. I make her, as Leah once suggested, "sing for her supper." After she nurses, she gets a bottle -- sometimes she takes a full bottle and sometimes she takes 1/2 or a 1/4 or even less. Now, in general I do not support the parenting tactic of rewarding food with more food (or rewarding anything with food), but I'll let that slide for now. I like to consider my breastfeeding as a hearty appetizer to her main course.

The good news? I did finally stop pumping (I just couldn't take it anymore) and I have not seen a drop in my milk supply. I used to dread the pump and sometimes it would truly ruin my day. I am much happier now. I also weened myself from the silicone nipple!

Sometimes it gets really frustrating. Hila is not the most patient of eaters. When she realizes she is hungry, I better be there for her, breast in mouth waiting. If I miss that small window of opportunity, then she will scream and scream, refuse to nurse, and not stop crying til she gets the bottle. I try and try and get really frustrated until I accept that it is just not meant to be during this feed.

I am trying to look at breastfeeding as something fun and enjoyable and extra. I am trying to chill out and not get upset when we have a bad session. Things have really turned around for the better and I am trying to focus on that. I have worked hard and am ready to sit back, relax, and enjoy feeding my baby -- whether by bottle or breast.

And who knows...maybe tomorrow will be my last day. I have a feeling it won't, but if it is, then I'll be okay with that too.

Words that Rhyme with Hila

(off rhymes allowed)

Tequila
Tortilla
Mamila (mall in J'lem)
Tefilah
Mama Mia!

Tequila is the best. (Not the best drink, but the best rhyme). Oh man, I see her high school / college years already...

Getting fat

Isn't it ironic that I'm working so hard to fatten up this little person who (if she has my genes anyways) will spend her entire life trying to slim down? Seems unfair doesn't it?

But since gaining weight is a good thing for babies, I am proud to say that Hila has gained a total of 1.6kg (or 3.5lbs) during her two months of life outside the womb. And the good news is...it's not all formula fat! Breastfeeding, still being the biggest challenge I've ever faced, is becoming easier and easier every day.

That's not to say that Hila is now formula-free. Far from it. (That's not even my goal.) But after taking motilium, pumping like mad, and losing the silicone nipple, I now have enough milk (usually) to give Hila a nice breastmilk breakfast and a few little snacks through the afternoon!

One month has turned into six weeks which turned into two months. Now I'll try and make it til Pesach.

My little girl is growing up!

Here are some milestones that Hila has reached by today, the beginning of her 8th week of life:
1. She rolled over from her stomach to her back three times.
2. Last night we put her in her crib, patted her to sleep, and when she woke up ten minutes later, put herself back to sleep in 6 minutes.
3. She re-learned how to latch on sans silicone (still not entirely correct and pain-free, but a latch nonetheless) and is started to breastfeed more and more every day.
4. She can sit and entertain herself in her swing, bouncer, or play mat for a good 1/2 hour, looking around, smiling, and being fully engaged by what she sees.

She'll probably start walking and talking any day now at the rate she's going.

Hila's Arms

I've been doing a lot of staring and studying of my baby's both awake and asleep behavior and actions. Here are some things that I've noticed about Hila's arms:

- When she's eating she makes little fists with her hands, sticks out her pointer fingers and brings her arms over her head, as if to say, "You are number one, mom!"

- Sometimes she does this with two fingers out, as if to say, "Just the two of us, you and me, mom."

- Sometimes she puts out three finger, "And daddy, too."

- When Hila is napping, her hands go angelically under her chin or one arm goes over her head and one arm stays under her chin or to her side. There is always a lot of flailing in the naptime phase.

- When she is sleeping a deep sleep in her crib, both of her arms rest over her head on the mattress surface -- "I surrender to sleep!"

- Sometimes she jolts awake for a moment (or longer) and her arms shoot up into the air. "AH! Why am I sleeping?? I should be conducting an orchestra!"

The best part of Hila's arms, though, are her hands, which are perfection. She has long, graceful fingers, that are not at all like my short, stubby digits. My mother says that they remind her of her mother's hands -- Hila's namesake -- how appropriate!

Advice for New Mothers

I was recently having a gchat conversation with Talia, a fellow new mother who has about four months more experience than I do. While venting about how much more difficult infant-raising was than I had expected, Talia gave the following advice:

1. You are allowed to want to throw the baby out the window.
2. Do NOT throw the baby out the window.
3. Your husband, in-laws, and parents all want to hold her too. Let them.
4. It's tough but try to get alone time once a day.
5. Don't worry about fitting into your clothes.
6. Talk to your friends for tips and advice; then you won't feel like you are the only one dealing with baby issues.

So there are six tips...feel free to add your more!

The Nursing Saga Continues

Things are getting better, but are still not perfect.

Breastfeeding is becoming an expensive ordeal. I've become a regular at my lactation consultant (100 shekels a pop), the tongue snipping wasn't cheap, nursing bras are expensive (I went up another cup size!), and we still need to buy formula which we're still having to give Hila at every feed.

Nipples are still a bit sore, but thanks to silicone nipples, they feel a MILLION times (at least) better.

I'm pumping about four or five times a day to help increase my milk supply. And I'm taking fenugreek supplements which are supposed to also help. And I'm really starting to see an increase!

I nurse Hila maybe three times a day, but sometimes she just sits there to humor me, waiting for me to finish so she can get her bottle. She spends half the time sitting quietly and half the time thrashing around -- again, thank goodness for silicone. My goal is to partially reverse wean her from the bottles, to breastfeed her (with no supplement) a few times a day and to rely on bottles for middle of the night feeds and outings.

The tongue snipping was a partial success. It hurts a lot less when she latches on, though I also switched to the silicone nipples, so who knows if the snipping would've made a difference with those. My lactation consultant says her tongue is still a little tight and she could use another snip, but I say enough is enough. There's only so much mutilation I can allow.

I'm feeling less discouraged, maybe even hopeful. More than that though, I've come to terms with the fact that breastfeeding just may not work out this time around. I'm going to try for a few more weeks and I'm going to try and stay positive.

Thank you all for your suggestions, support, and encouragement. I'll keep you posted!

P.S. The good news is that Hila is definitely gaining weight. She's really filling out and is looking a lot less scrawny. We'll do an officially weigh-in on Tuesday.

Tongue Tied

If you've spoken to me or written to me or heard anything about me in the last few days, you're likely to know about my sore nipples. People have been saying that all you need is a good latch, but what do you do when it is physically impossible for your baby to "get a good latch"? Since day one I've been struggling to get Hila to latch on properly, but even when it looks like she's got it good, it still kills. My nipples have gotten no chance to heal and just keep getting more and more and more irritated.

A few visits to the lactation consultant later, we learn that Hila is tongue tied. This is a real thing! It means that her frenulum is tight so she is unable to fully raise her tongue to the roof of her mouth, making it difficult, if not impossible, to get an effective suck. (The frenulum is that string-like tissue that connects the tongue to the bottom of the mouth.) Don't get me wrong -- this girl can suck strong...just not effectively and not widely, which means that all of the action is on my nipple and not enough on the area around it.

Another result of this, other than severe pain, is that my milk supply is suffering. Milk supply is stimulated through the areola, not the nipple, and since Hila is barely getting to that, my milk ducts are barely being stimulated. Thus I have been relying heavily on pumping (which also kills) to help stimulate my areolas and increase my milk supply.

Another result of Hila's tight frenulum and my sore nipples is that Hila is not gaining enough weight. This is the most upsetting part of the story. We have been advised by both our doctor and lactation consultant to supplement her diet with formula, which was actually a huge relief becuase it gives me a little nipple break and coming from them (and not me) makes me feel less guilty.

The good news: Tomorrow we are going to get Hila's frenulum snipped. A quick cut under her tongue will loosen her frenulum and help release her tongue, making it easier for her to eat and less painful for me. She will also be getting that string like thing that connects the top lip to the gum line snipped (don't know what it's called) so that her top lip has more room to more as well. (Coincidentally (or maybe I should say genetically, I had this procedure done many years ago to help tighten the gap between my two front teeth.) I've got all my eggs in this basket -- if the situation does not drastically improve, then it could be that breastfeeding is just not for us, which is upsetting, but at least now I know that it's not my fault and it may not even be what's best.

Wish us luck for tomorrow!

Welcome to the World, Hila Zehava!

After much planning and anticipation of a masculine addition to our family, little Hila Zehava made her very feminine appearance one week ago on our (now shared) birthday of January 26. Here is our birth story...

I started a few days earlier with some period-like cramps. Wow, I thought, if these are contractions, than I can totally handle these -- they barely even hurt! At 6:30am, though, on Monday, January 26, those cramps got a little stronger. And then a little stronger. And then a little stronger. And before I knew it, I was in the hospital, screaming my brains out, beggin for an epidural. I felt like I was in a movie.

About eight hours later, I got that blessed epidural and the painful and traumatic labor experience went from unbearable to absolutely blissful. I took a little nap, chatted with Joanie, our amazing doula, ate a bit, and just chilled, with a warm flush of numbness flowing through my body.

A few hours later, after they had broken my water with a wooden stick (seriously) and given me a bit of pitocin to speed things up, a midwife came in, looked at the monitor, ran out, and quickly reentered with a staff of 5 or 6 doctors, nurses, and midwives. What I heard was "blah blah hebrew hebrew". What I saw was a look of panic on their faces as they pulled my legs up and apart, told me to hold my knees, and told me to push. I got the translated update -- our baby's heart rate was quickly dropping and if I didn't push her out in five minutes, they'd have to cut me open and take her out themselves.

They sent Menachem out of the room because of the emergency nature of the situation and told me to push again, harder this time. But...I still had the epidural and couldn't feel a thing. How can I push if I couldn't feel any of my pushing muscles? Apparently I didn't have a choice. And then, soley through the power of the mind, I visualized what I thought pushing would look like and feel like, and I pushed and pushed and pushed that baby out like there was no tomorrow.

My panicked cries of "Is my baby ok? Is my baby ok?" immediately switched to a relieved and overjoyed "My baby is ok! My baby is ok!" Menachem was back in the room by the time they threw that little girl on top of me and assured me that she was perfect.

It's a girl! "What?" we said. And my first thought, I kid you not, after of course the flood of relief and love that I felt, was "oh man, Menachem is going to have to exchange all that blue stuff for pink." (And he did.)

I delivered the placenta with no problems (it looks like a lung on a string) and then they sewed me up where they had cut me and where I'd torn -- and I didn't feel a thing.

And now one week later we're all adjusting to life with a newborn. It's tiring, at times frustrating, at times extremely painful (recovering from the stitches and dealing with sore nipples -- see my other blog about that), but always filled with wonder and amazement about the presence of this miraculous, beautiful, little baby girl.

Hila Zehava is named after my mother's mother, Gloria Goldie. Hila is Hebrew from praise/glory, and Zehava means gold.

And we love her. And you'll love her too when you get to meet her!

Happy belated Bowelversary to me!

I don't believe yesterday came and went and I didn't think about my bowels once. (Clearly I have other things on my mind.)

Here is to me -- for survival, acceptance, and digestive health!

And here is to you -- for friendship, love, and caring that you've all provided for me over the years, bowel and non-bowel related!

It's been seven years, do you believe it?

Early/Late

I made the psychological mistake of assuming that this baby would be early. (After all, I was three weeks early myself...doesn't that count for anything??) So now, with still one and a half weeks to go before even hitting the due date, I feel like I'm late.

38 weeks tomorrow!

Focusing on work is even harder than usual (if you can imagine that). Sometimes I just stare into space and think, "I wonder if it'll be now. Or now. Or now." I waste so much time just sitting around and waiting. And yet I haven't shown any signs of labor and still suspect that I'll probably be late. I'm just bored.

The baby should come at the right time. Hopefully that right time is today. Maybe now. Or now. Or now. Nope. Nothing.

Pregnant dish washing is hard!

Tonight I decided to give Menachem a break and do some dishes. He just started a very demanding job and gets home very late (and I love him and wanted to surprise him), I just kicked out Rachel (my other dish washer) since I plan on laboring in private and that could be any day, and I just spent the whole day reading in bed, only doing a bit of work here and there. It only seemed fair that I chip in and do some dish washing myself.

I did about six dishes before I quit. Here's why it's hard to do dishes while you're pregnant:

First of all standing in one place for an extended period of time without moving is tiring.

Second, and more crucial, is the fact that I don't fit properly in front of the sink. See, you probably don't realize how close you stand to the sink while you're doing dishes, but when you've got a foot long belly, you can no longer stand in that optimal location. Instead, you have to stand a foot back and reach further into the sink. And I have short arms, so the reach ends up forcing me to hunch my shoulders and curve my spine and it's THAT that makes me stop before finishing the batch.

And no, I can't just stand closer and squish my stomach into the counter because a) that hurts a lot and b) I end up getting soaked.

So, sorry Menachem, the sink is still filled with dishes.

Forced Nesting

I've heard about this "nesting" phenomenon--Pregnant women nearing their due dates feel the need to do intense cleaning and organizing, to get their lives and their homes in order before the baby comes.--and I'm afraid I'm going about it all wrong.

Oh, the instinct to clean and organize I've got, but the surge of energy that supposedly goes along with it...well that I've yet to see.

The result? I'm taking my nesting instinct out on Menachem. I'm seeing things that NEED to get done RIGHT NOW, but...I don't want to do them...but they NEED to get done... Menachem?
I
From cleaning out the little room (ok that really does need to get done) to cleaning the ceiling fans in every room, to hanging our curtain rod, to filing, putting away clutter, organizing all our books, going through clothing...the list is endless.

And I feel bad because I'M the one who wants all these things done...I just don't want to be the one to do them. I'm as fat as a house and barely have energy to lift myself off the couch to go pee--how am I expected to clean our ceiling fans?

In other news, I just ate almost a whole pint of B&J and am feeling (emotionally) pretty bad. (Physically I feel fine.)

Sometimes I eat too much and then my stomach hurts and I think I must be going into labor. But really it's just because I've jam packed food into a space that looks like it holds a lot more than it actually does.

Wow, I'm starting to feel that ice cream settle into my stomach. I feel really sick. I should not be left alone with a pint of ice cream.

Getting Huge

It's like it just happened over night. I notice that there are very clear growth spurts, but this one is by far the biggest. All of a sudden I'm gigantic. I feel like a beached whale (maybe an overused analogy, but now I understand why). Just moving takes effort. Sleeping is getting difficult. Turning over raises my heart rate and leaves me breathless. Stairs? Like running a marathon (which I've never done, but I can imagine). Next pregnancy, I'm putting in an elevator and getting a car. And moving to a place where there are fewer hills. Maybe for my future ninth months of pregnancy (poo poo poo) I'll relocate to Kansas.

So not only do I feel like I'm about to pop, I look like it too, apparently. Last night we were getting into a cab. I was getting in the front seat (it's easier), with a moan and groan (all exertion demands a grunt), and the cab driver took one look at me and said "Shaarei Tzedek?" (our local hospital).

Man I got so excited! I almost said yes! I don't know why, but I felt like he had just given me the biggest compliment EVER. We told him we still had three more weeks, and I walked around with a huge smile all night (until we got home and I had to walk up all those stairs).

All that being said, the truth is, is that I don't really feel like I'm about to pop. I actually feel like this baby is going to come a little late. Yes, I'm getting uncomfortable. Yes, I'm excited and ready to have this baby. Yes, I'm getting a little tired of being pregnant. But it seems to me that when women do finally give birth, it's because their bodies really are done and just can't carry the baby anymore. And I don't feel that way. Moaning and groaning aside, I haven't had any contractions; I don't feel like I'm going to tip over; for the most part, during most of the day, I feel fine.

My due date is January 30. I'm predicting a February 1st arrival. Menachem predicts January 26 (my birthday).

I'll keep you posted...

36 weeks and a Cake Guard

I was just looking at engagement pictures of Tiff and Mordy (mazel tov!!!!) and there's a picture of them blowing out candles on their Happy Engagement cake. And a thought occurred to me: What if one of them has a cold? (I had a horrible cold/cough all week so it's on my mind.) Would I want to eat a cake after someone with yucky germs sprayed their breath all over it? How come I've never heard any concern about this? It's sad to think that probably in the next few years (if not sooner), as the hygiene/germ craze gets stronger, the tradition of blowing out candles on a cake will probably disappear. I mean, if I'VE thought of it, then I'm sure hyperly sensitive moms of allergy-ridden three-year olds have thought of it too.

Fortunately, Cake Guard Industries to the rescue and make a ridiculous product to protect cakes from germs. Cake Guard Industries assures its customers that "saliva and germs no longer need to be a part of the celebration by using CakeGuard at your next celebration." Hurrah!

Meanwhile, in unrelated pregnancy news, I've hit the 36 week mark and I've hit my due date month -- our baby could be born any day now! (though preferably in a week or two or three--when s/he's good and ready.) I've taken out the hospital bag and plan on packing it up today and I'm starting to drink nettle and raspberry leaf tea which are supposed to stimulate blood flow to the uterus which will help during labor.

Moving around is getting harder. It takes me about double the time to walk to places which used to be easy walks and I've definitely been taking more cabs. I avoid going certain places (down) because it means a dreaded walk home (up).

Otherwise, things are great! Tiff's engagement made my day -- a trip to America is finally in sight (sometime this summer)! (And we love Tiff and are so happy for her!)

Shabbat Shalom!

It's a.....boy!...maybe...

I keep chuckling to myself over here. We're so sure that it's a boy (without any scientific or empirical evidence whatsoever) that we went shopping the other day and bought everything blue.

We went to this great store in Talpiot called Motzitzim and bought a whole package deal: crib, dresser/changing table, bath, some clothes, pacifiers, cotton balls, thermometer, and like 20 other baby odds and ends. It's all in a box on hold at the store until the baby is born and Menachem goes to collect it. If it's a boy, then all the stuff stays as is--the blue sheets, the blue changing pad, the blue diaper bag, etc.--but if it's a girl, Menachem will have a job ahead of him of switching everything to pink.

I read recently that babies don't really look so good in yellow and green, so rather than opt for neutral colors, we figured we'd gamble.

Don't get me wrong -- if it's a girl, we'll be thrilled...and surprised.