I’m new to this. All of it. I’m only six months into being a mom, and now a week into being an ‘FPIES parent’. That’s the term I’ve seen written now, because apparently it takes over so much of parenting. Actually, I see ‘FPIES mom’, but we’re in this together, we are her parents equally. I know, though, that my experience as a mom is different, and I’ll be writing from my perspective. Only a mom can understand the feelings of a baby growing inside her, the feelings of a literal piece of her now being outside of her body, but wanting to protect it with the same fierce strength it took to grow her and deliver her. Only a mom can understand the worry of, “What did I do to cause this? Was it the Zofran? The lack of some vitamin? The Taco Bell cravings? Did I sleep wrong?"
So, here’s the story. Acorn is born and things go along with the usual ups and downs of new parenting. The first 5 months could have their own book, all about the ridiculous amounts of love (and hormones) that a teeny, tiny baby can bring out in a mom. Acorn is a happy baby. She slept through the night, and only cried when she was hungry. I know, I was crazy lucky. In January I started having difficulty with breast milk production while pumping, so we started supplementing with formula. She got about 6-8 ounces a day mixed in with breast milk while I was at work, and breast fed the rest of the time. (Yes, this is important later).
On January 19th, Dad had the day off so Acorn stayed home with him. I ran out the door, got down the street in my car, and realized my tire was totally blown out. Too far gone to just air it up. I got back to the house on the rim, and took Dad’s car to work. In my hurry to get to work on time, and feeling thankful that Dad was home so I could take his car, it didn’t cross my mind that I just left my husband and baby daughter at home without a usable car.
Adorable picture texts of their daddy/daughter day made me smile all morning. At noon I got the call from Dad that Acorn had been throwing up. “I think I put her in the jumper too soon after I fed her.” Okay, things like this happen, right? Dad cleans up puke and learns a lesson, we all get a laugh. My mom instinct immediately said something else was wrong, but I ignored it until the next call. “She just keeps throwing up over and over… Oh my God, I have to go she’s throwing up again.” I knew I needed to go home, something was very wrong. I called the doctor to let them know we’d need an appointment quick, she must have the flu. I drove home behind every person who seemed to believe that it was the perfect day for a slow, leisurely drive. A few blocks from home, “Don’t get in an accident, but get home as fast as you can.” When I ran in the door my heart sank, or possibly stopped. She was white as flour, cold to the touch, couldn’t keep her head up, and fading in and out. We shouted her name to get her to come to, but she didn’t even look at us. She was somewhere else. It probably took 3 minutes to get to the hospital and 3 minutes to get checked in, but it felt like years were passing by at a slow crawl. The nurse listened to her heart and ran out to get the doctor without saying anything to us. That’s never a good sign. They told us her heart rate and temperature were very low, hooked her up to machines to monitor her, took blood and urine, and ordered every other test imaginable. Within the hour though, little Acorn just seemed to come back. The color came back to her and she once again became aware of everything, tracking us and everyone around her with that infant amazement. Her heart rate was back up, temperature was normal, but blood tests came up with high white blood cells. They decided to send us to the Children’s Hospital in the closest big city, and would have the ambulance transport us. I was unprepared to watch my little baby get strapped to a stretcher and put into an ambulance. It’s just not one of those things that crosses your mind when preparing to be a mom. Her big blue eyes moved back and forth between us, silently saying, “Mom? Dad? Mom? Dad? Which one of you is going to pick me up and get me off of here?” My heart hurts to think about it. So, enough of that, you get the picture.
We got to the Children's Hospital. Doctors in. Doctors out. Nurses in. Nurses out. Sleeping in shifts on a hospital couch. Acorn is happy and smiling and making everyone laugh. Vitals are good, all tests are negative for the scary stuff. 24 hours of observation and the verdict is a milk allergy, to be fully resolved by switching to soy formula. Good news, in the scheme of things. That was rough, but we headed home on the mend and ready to move on. It was over. That is, until it wasn’t.
But that’s a post for another day. Today I’ve gotten into my usual weekend dilemma: I’m surrounded by a sleeping husband, sleeping dogs, and sleeping baby. I know I should go to sleep as well, but instead I start doing something else that I generally can’t do while taking care of a baby. All of a sudden it’s late and I know I will regret this when Acorn wakes up before the sun, because she didn’t get the memo that mom needed to sleep in.
So, here’s the story. Acorn is born and things go along with the usual ups and downs of new parenting. The first 5 months could have their own book, all about the ridiculous amounts of love (and hormones) that a teeny, tiny baby can bring out in a mom. Acorn is a happy baby. She slept through the night, and only cried when she was hungry. I know, I was crazy lucky. In January I started having difficulty with breast milk production while pumping, so we started supplementing with formula. She got about 6-8 ounces a day mixed in with breast milk while I was at work, and breast fed the rest of the time. (Yes, this is important later).
On January 19th, Dad had the day off so Acorn stayed home with him. I ran out the door, got down the street in my car, and realized my tire was totally blown out. Too far gone to just air it up. I got back to the house on the rim, and took Dad’s car to work. In my hurry to get to work on time, and feeling thankful that Dad was home so I could take his car, it didn’t cross my mind that I just left my husband and baby daughter at home without a usable car.
Adorable picture texts of their daddy/daughter day made me smile all morning. At noon I got the call from Dad that Acorn had been throwing up. “I think I put her in the jumper too soon after I fed her.” Okay, things like this happen, right? Dad cleans up puke and learns a lesson, we all get a laugh. My mom instinct immediately said something else was wrong, but I ignored it until the next call. “She just keeps throwing up over and over… Oh my God, I have to go she’s throwing up again.” I knew I needed to go home, something was very wrong. I called the doctor to let them know we’d need an appointment quick, she must have the flu. I drove home behind every person who seemed to believe that it was the perfect day for a slow, leisurely drive. A few blocks from home, “Don’t get in an accident, but get home as fast as you can.” When I ran in the door my heart sank, or possibly stopped. She was white as flour, cold to the touch, couldn’t keep her head up, and fading in and out. We shouted her name to get her to come to, but she didn’t even look at us. She was somewhere else. It probably took 3 minutes to get to the hospital and 3 minutes to get checked in, but it felt like years were passing by at a slow crawl. The nurse listened to her heart and ran out to get the doctor without saying anything to us. That’s never a good sign. They told us her heart rate and temperature were very low, hooked her up to machines to monitor her, took blood and urine, and ordered every other test imaginable. Within the hour though, little Acorn just seemed to come back. The color came back to her and she once again became aware of everything, tracking us and everyone around her with that infant amazement. Her heart rate was back up, temperature was normal, but blood tests came up with high white blood cells. They decided to send us to the Children’s Hospital in the closest big city, and would have the ambulance transport us. I was unprepared to watch my little baby get strapped to a stretcher and put into an ambulance. It’s just not one of those things that crosses your mind when preparing to be a mom. Her big blue eyes moved back and forth between us, silently saying, “Mom? Dad? Mom? Dad? Which one of you is going to pick me up and get me off of here?” My heart hurts to think about it. So, enough of that, you get the picture.
We got to the Children's Hospital. Doctors in. Doctors out. Nurses in. Nurses out. Sleeping in shifts on a hospital couch. Acorn is happy and smiling and making everyone laugh. Vitals are good, all tests are negative for the scary stuff. 24 hours of observation and the verdict is a milk allergy, to be fully resolved by switching to soy formula. Good news, in the scheme of things. That was rough, but we headed home on the mend and ready to move on. It was over. That is, until it wasn’t.
But that’s a post for another day. Today I’ve gotten into my usual weekend dilemma: I’m surrounded by a sleeping husband, sleeping dogs, and sleeping baby. I know I should go to sleep as well, but instead I start doing something else that I generally can’t do while taking care of a baby. All of a sudden it’s late and I know I will regret this when Acorn wakes up before the sun, because she didn’t get the memo that mom needed to sleep in.