September 11, 2012

Today was little Tate's due date. Weird! He is almost a week old now!

Today was such a hard day for me. I'm so very blessed that my mom came down to help me out with it because today was the day that Cory had to go back to work. Today we took Tate to be circumcised. Usually they do this at the hospital, but after the hospital pediatrician told me that he thought that Tate had hyperspadius and that he didn't find it necessary to circumcise him, and that he actually didn't feel comfortable doing it, I decided to call my pediatrician in Utah County. That is why we set an appointment for a week later, which is today. I've done my research and talked to a few women who actually didn't have their sons circumcised and Cory and I came to the decision that we did want the procedure done for our baby. I was so nervous every day up to today. When I got up this morning I dressed Tate in a onesie that says "Mommy Loves Me" to remind myself that little Tate knew that I did love him. When we walked in to the doctors office I immediately started to tear up. My mom told me that I needed to be strong and be there for my boy. I really wanted to! So the pediatrician looked at Tate to decided if he really did have hyperspadius and let me know that if he did we would have to see a Urologist and the procedure wouldn't be able to be done for 6 months, and by then it would be a lot bigger of an ordeal for my little boy. Even though I was upset, I was praying that he could actually have the procedure done so that he wouldn't be subject to something more intense later. My prayers were answered! And my emotions exploded. I was bawling hysterically and the doctor told me that I could leave the room and that most moms do. I said that I needed to be brave for him. My mom told me that she would stay with him while I went out (later she told me that if I wasn't right in the middle of the baby blues she would have wanted me to stay in there for Tate. She's the best!) I sat out in the waiting room bawling, and couldn't get myself together. The nice lady who was the receptionist came over and put her arm around me and let me know that she had four boys and after working for the pediatrician she strongly feels that I was doing the right thing. I feel that way too, but man!!! It was no fun! The doctor came out and got me and told me that everything went perfectly and that Tate was fine and that I could come in. I went in and the handed him to me and, to me, he looked relieved to have his mommy. His scowl (that he inherited from me) was very apparent to everyone else in the room. Well... even though it was a bit of an adventure, that could have been avoided if I delivered at a hospital that my pediatrician could have come to, or that the hospital pediatrician that I was at felt comfortable doing, I am forever grateful that it happened this way. After the procedure the pediatrician sat down with me to discuss my babies weight. He let me know that he usually sees babies after two weeks and they've lost about 10% of their birth weight. He was concerned because he was seeing my baby after just one week and he had lost 15% of his birth weight. The pediatrician was worried that my milk hadn't come in yet. I had expressed a few times before nursing and my baby nursed every three hours on both sides for 20 min each, so I figured everything was just fine. Because I was such a mess the doctor suggested that I go home and pump (rather than do it there at his office) to see how much I was producing. He wanted me to know that if I didn't produce that it was fine, and that I would have to work with the baby and a bottle. Well, I guess I have a pretty good doctor because I went home, pumped, and pumped.... and pumped... and nothing! Well, not nothing, but pretty near too. So of course I broke down into a sobbing mess again and made myself feel like I had starved my baby. I made him a bottle and he swigged it down. After I burped him he made this noise, I can only compare it to my brothers after Thanksgiving dinner. He seemed so happy! So... I decided I could either beat myself up over something that wasn't my fault, or I could be thankful for a good doctor that figured it out. I choose to be thankful! The same thing happened to my sister on her first baby, and with her second she had no problem with her milk. So I wont stop trying, but in the mean time, I now have a happy, healthy, full little guy!