Josh and Korey

Well you didn’t think he’d like it, did you?

He’s one week old today!

These were taken the day we brought him home from the hospital.

There is nothing like it.

We are going focus on feeding Jacob for a while, because it’s very important for hyper-bili babies to clear their systems. The challenging thing is that this requires me taking better care of myself than I have been. I have more
Milk when I drink more water and eat more, so this is my focus for the next while. To those wanting to visit, please be patient. We news to settle in and make sure that Jacob’s well-being ad health come first.

Good evening!

I have a lot of things to write about, and I’ve been so excited to share the adventures of the last few days with you all, but taking care of our little guy has kept me really busy. Unfortunately, I’m writing tonight from the NICU at Children’s Hospital (CHOC). Jacob has an excess of bilirubin (newborn jaundice) and that, combined with weight loss, has gotten him admitted for treatment. I can’t pick him up or feed him because his status is serious enough that he can’t be removed from under the special lights. I’m staying overnight so I can pump and they can feed him my milk through a bottle. It’s very sad and hard…to have him for only three days and then be confronted with this physical separation is painful…I actually physically feel pain not to hold him. There are strong hormonal and emotional drivers telling me to pick him up…and I know he is struggling, having spent his days on earth almost constantly in someone’s arms. The past few nights I’ve gotten little sleep, and I’m sure tonight will be the same, but I didn’t mind staying awake holding him and loving him…this is a special form of torture.

I left to say goodbye to Josh and when I came back my poor baby (with his eyes covered to keep them safe from the lights) heard me talking to him and freaked out like I’ve never seen; arching his back, kicking and screaming like crazy. I’m going to be quiet from now on although it kills me that he might think I’m not here. He wants to be held so badly.

It’s also frustrating to be in a hospital again; it’s uncomfortable (much much more so in NICU than a labor or recovery room!) and scary. I just want my home! And I want my baby back.

Keep us in your thoughts and prayers, please. I just want to take him home.

Here’s a picture of my little man:

He’s so sweet an precious and I love him so much. This is so hard…

It’s time to say goodbye to the belly…

It’s so weird, thinking that this is the last uncomfortable night I’ll have sleeping with this twitchy, hiccuping, heavy stomach. It is also weird to think that my next shower at home will be the last for a while in which I can linger and enjoy it. Every first and last will be sentimental, I’m sure…and there are so many. My quiet, clean house is ready. My mom and I vacuumed and cleaned, took out the trash, watered the plants, did dishes, and cleaned out the fridge, did the final load of laundry, wiped down counters and floors, and cleared clutter. My camera is charging, my bag is packed with my list of last-minute items on top.  I bet you’re thinking I’d like to get my body back, but don’t be fooled — I don’t expect to get my body “back” anytime soon. It will be a process. I hope the swelling of my hands, carpal tunnel numbness, and general awkwardness goes away. I hope my skin gets back to normal and that my back pain eases. But in terms of getting the body I am used to back, it will take time. If only it were that easy.

Well you can't expect to go from this to normal in one day.

It is so strange to be on the precipice. I didn’t think I would go this far, or be induced, and to go from weeks of “it could happen anytime” to being told a time to show up at the hospital is so bizarre. In a way, it fits with my planning, organizing side…on the other hand, I feel like I would have preferred the chaos of the baby choosing when he joins the world. It would take some pressure off of me, and put me in reactive mode — I do well there. I can respond like a champ to a harrowing situation; it is the situations that are planned, and give you time to make mistakes, that stresses me out.

I am certainly ready to meet this little guy, but it is strange to see an era come to an end. For the better part of this year, I have been pregnant. It’s been such an honor. I hope that, in describing how I’ve felt, I’ve never given any of you another impression. For some reason, this little soul has chosen us for his parents, and specifically, I was tasked with helping him make his physical transition to this world. I’ve done my best with what I consider to be the “easy part.” All I had to do was avoid some things here and there, eat well, walk, and basically take care of myself — as most of the task involved withstanding some strain on my body. Piece of CAKE! I didn’t have to watch what I said or did, not even as much what I ate (as I’ll have to when breastfeeding). I just had to keep myself healthy and sane while things changed. In my opinion, it has been such a small price to pay to treat my body well while it did the most amazing thing in the universe. It has grown another human body, a vessel for our sweet boy. I hope that I never try to give him a guilt trip about “the things I did for him” because really, this has been an absolute honor in every sense of the word. How lucky we are: to be able to do this (physically, emotionally, financially!), to be chosen by Jacob as his parents, to have made it safely to 10 months of gestation, to the luxury of time to sit here and reflect on the journey and all of its myriad revelatory moments.

If the last ten months have been an emotional transition into parenthood – at times overwhelming and at others slow and dragging, today, tonight, this minute I am really on the brink. I’m trying to soak it all in as best I can and enjoy every last kick. I wish I could pass on to you all the feeling of gratefulness I have in this moment…I suppose I’m trying, with my words…but I’m finding that the right words fail me (take that in, my friends; it’s rare!). Also the feeling of momentousness and enormity and overwhelming possibility. There are also some nuggets of fear, nervousness, and apprehension…I think that’s only normal. This voice inside of me is saying, in the least profound of ways, “dude. This is big.” The grandeur of this day has left me overcome and unable to communicate how I feel. It’s rather like graduation day, times 100, plus much more instant gratification. But I use that comparison because there is a similar feeling of being on the brink of, well, change. Not knowing how or when or what it will even look like. Also elation and pride, and of course sadness and mourning for the end of “life as you know it.” Even though you probably wanted that end after 10 months of pregnancy or 4 years of college. You’re ready for the transition, but that doesn’t make it any less intimidating. So, with no idea what tomorrow will hold, I march steadfast into it. It could be the hardest 20+ hours of my entire life (weird…should I carb-load tonight) or the most strange, painful, blissful, surprising…but no matte what it is, I need to let go of my preconceived notions and just live. I have no control, no idea of what to expect. I only know that the end result will be beautiful.

I’m going to set this to post while we’re at the hospital, so by the time you see it I’ll be out of contact.

I would love your happy “t&p” (thoughts and prayers – whatever you are into) for a healthy boy–and I wouldn’t mind if you threw in there some positive vibes for a surgery-free birth. 🙂