Hello, my name is overprotective mother or how my baby aged me by years in one weekend

This has been the worst weekend so far in my experience as a mother. All of you other mothers are probably thinking "just wait", but in my almost-five-months as a mom, this has been the worst experience I have had.
All of the baby books, baby websites and pediatricians will tell you that, at four months, your baby may start to teeth. My pediatrician said that it's a genetic trait whether or not she teeths early, so, based on my nephew, I thought I had MONTHS before I saw the first signs of O's pearly whites. When she slept through the night this past week (and I mean slept until 7 am, not this 5am-sleeping-through-the-night-for-babies sleeping through the night) I thought to myself, "well, this is going to all go out the window when she starts teething, so I better take advantage now." Little did I know how MUCH advantage I should have taken when the MONTHS I thought I had were actually days if not hours.
This past Friday started like any other day in new-mommyhood. Because it was Friday, I was ready to spend the whole day with my baby and not really do much in the way of chores because I felt like I needed a break and wanted to start my weekend off relaxed. So, I got both of us dressed and went to Babies R Us to get some window shades for John's car (among other things that you all of a sudden think you NEED when you are surrounded by baby stuff...I almost bought a bottle warmer (totally extravagant and unnecessary item) but I restrained myself, for this is not the economy to be extravagant). Then, I got home and realized that I didn't get a discount on an item they advertised as on sale and called to complain (another story for another day, needless to say, Babies R Us is now on my SH#$ list.) At some point after that, I went to pick up Olivia and noticed that she was crying in pain (ala just got a vaccine shot cry). Uh oh.
I made myself lunch and noticed that she was continuing to cry in pain when I picked her up. This is not normal! I have a perfect, happy baby who never complains... Then I went through all of the medical dramas that I had been watching and just started to think the worst. What if she has some bone disease?! (Yes, one goes to the extremes when it comes to their child) What if I held her wrong and she broke something?
So I called my dad hoping that, with his medical expertise, he could tell me what was wrong and that I don't need to worry. Instead, he told me to go right to the pediatrician. (holy crap). So, I got in my car and went to the pediatrician. Unfortunately, Olivia's pediatrician was not on staff on Friday so I actually saw my nephew's doctor. She poked and prodded Olivia. She held the stethoscope over Olivia's hands to see if she would reach for it (and, thank GOODness, she did). But she also was concerned at how Olivia would cry in pain when touched in certain places on her chest and arm. And, as an added bonus, Olivia was now not moving her left arm.
In all that examining, I noticed that Olivia's bottom teeth were coming in. Because, as we all know, when it rains, it pours. Now, I want to believe that the doctor actually was concerned that Olivia could have a fracture and was not taking advantage of a concerned new mom, so I will go with that (although in hindsight, I feel like we all overreacted in a major way). So, she sent me to radiology at the local hospital for Olivia to get x-rays. Now was time to panic. Apparently, babies can have fractures and not have any physical, visible symptoms.
John and my dad met me at the hospital as we waited for the results. The radiologist came out to talk to me and said that there was nothing on her x-rays and that she understood how difficult this must be because she was a new mom herself and it must be hard not to know what is wrong with your baby. A little ray of sunshine on what was beginning to be a thunderstorm of a day. So, I spoke with the pediatrician about the results and she told me to come in the next day if things continued.
As it turns out, Olivia's symptoms improved and I thought we were trending on recovery. (Still not knowing what was wrong with her) At 2am on Saturday, Olivia awoke, screaming in pain and she was hot to the touch and even more sensitive to being touched. A rectal thermometer reading later, she had a fever of 102.1. Now was the time to wake up whatever pediatrician was on call. This pediatrician turned out to be the same lady who examined Olivia in the hospital where she was born. (It all comes full circle). She told me to give her Tylenol every four hours until the fever went down.
I ended up "sleeping" with Olivia in the glider because she was just screaming in pain when I put her in the crib. "Poor little blighter" as John would say. I say "sleeping" in quotes because it was not exactly the most comfortable position to sleep in and I was freaking out that I might fall asleep and drop my baby. Luckily that did not happen.
The next day, Olivia woke up feeling much cooler, but still sensitive to being touched. She progressively got better, so I gave her a bath right before her follow-up appointment with the pediatrician. After another round of poking and prodding, they did a urine sample (via catheter...my poor little baby). And when the urine sample turned out normal, the doctor told us she wanted to get blood tests just to rule out any bacterial infection because a fever of 102.1 was above the "Low-grade" fever that is associated with teething. Of course, it was our decision whether we just wanted to wait and see if she got better (aka be bad parents) or be good parents and rule out any worst-case scenarios. Of course, we wanted to be good parents.
At the hospital, for the second time, as if Olivia hadn't been through enough, she had to have more needles...more pricks and prods. The doctor did not get enough blood on the first round, so she needed even another needle in her heel. My brave little baby. She cried, but also smiled and did not hate me afterwards....or so I hope. Of course, the results were all normal. It's good that she was fine, but bad that we still didn't know what was wrong with her.
The more the day progressed, Olivia seemed to get better on her own and I could resume picking her up and holding her without cries of pain. I started thinking to myself "It is too much of a coincidence that she's getting this fever (and the aches and pains associated with fever) and she's teething to think that those things couldn't be related). I can't believe all of these tests we just went through and this is probably just an "abnormal" reaction to teething. Oh woe is me, I just got used to not getting a bill from the hospital every other day. But, at least I am not in full panic mode. I guess it's better to feel like a fool when it comes to your baby than be on the other end of not knowing.
Now that she is teething, though, we are back to her newborn sleeping patterns of waking every three hours. Last night was pretty rough for all involved. I am still deciding whether I should be glad this happened on the weekend on my watch or if I should be totally selfish and be sad that my weekend went by and all I have to show for it is greasy hair and hairy legs for not having showered for two days straight. Is that TMI? TOUGH! I have just been through hell and back. On the bright side, my baby is okay. That is all that matters in the end.

Schedule Schmedule

In an effort to expose my baby to art and life in all formats, her/our schedule has gone completely haywire. So far, Olivia has survived unscathed as far as sleeping has gone, but I fear my boobs are mad at me. She is of the age where she can drink 6 ounces of boob juice or formula in one sitting and I am currently pumping 4-5. Luckily I have reserves to keep on top of this, but I am starting to panic (which probably isn't helping). I read that it takes 3 days to really f-up your production and I think this weekend was teetering on the danger zone of drying up.
I mentioned the Art Institute and the next day was Ravinia and then we went to Racine to watch Auntie Chrissy and Uncle Jeff kick a$$ in the half ironman (last year, the race I was training for when I found out I was knocked up). In spite of my new found confidence in breastfeeding in public, Olivia has a new found preference for the faster, artificial nipple. (sigh).
So, on top of regressing in production, I am resigned to pumping. Lemme tell you. I am beginning to feel like those cows you see hooked up to the milking machines with that look of it's-not-just-sucking-my-milk-but-also-my-soul look on their faces. The only thing that keeps me going is the thought that I am helping my baby be the best that she can be.... and burning calories. I do have to say, though, that whenever I open the fridge, I have a whole new appreciation for that gallon of milk sitting on the shelf.
Don't ever get smug or over confident that you have the best baby on the planet and can go anywhere with him/her. There will always be some situation to prove you wrong. That situation, for me, was taking Olivia to Ravinia this past Saturday night. On top of it being a gorgeous evening, we were going to see the CSO perform Beethoven's 9th. CLASSICAL music. Who can't be lulled to sleep with cool breezes and classical music?! Olivia, that's who. This baby, who fell asleep in the middle of a noisy restaurant screamed bloody murder right at the most beautiful moments in Beethoven's 9th aka Ode to Joy aka the music that they always play for explosion sequences in movies. I honestly think she was saving all of that pent up anger for this moment. Of course, it could be the fact that it was her bed time and she was cranky, but, in my defense, she gave me the impression that all she could sleep anywhere in any position.
So, I am tempting fate by considering taking her to listen to Flamenco at the Botanic Gardens. John seems to think that this is a bad idea. But, everybody deserves a second chance, right?

Now THAT's a work of art!

This week has been a lot of same ol' same ol' until today. My mom accompanied me to the city to the dentist and then to the modern wing at the Art Institute.
I was dreading the dentist due to the fact that my poor dental care skills have declined since having a baby. Hopefully I am not alone in this. Luckily, though, I got away with just a few complaints about my "staining" due to coffee. Look man, I deserve these battle scars you call teeth stains. As long as there is nothing about to fall out, I am golden.
Then we went to the Art Institute to check out this new modern wing by Renzo Piano. As an architect, I must make the pilgrimage. As a mom who wants to make her baby a renaissance-woman (aka genius at everything) I wanted to show O another world.
So, we get to the museum and I have to pee right away. On our way to the restroom, a large black lady stops me and says "Now THAT's a work of art!" (pointing at O) Yes, yes she is ;-)
Then we make our way through the modern wing, blah blah and then go for lunch at the museum's cafeteria. Toward the end of lunch. I keep staring at my hooter hider thinking I should try and feed O because if I don't my production will dry up because I haven't fed her (don't worry, she wasn't starving because she had a bottle earlier). It is amazing how much I panic about that lately. I am way too aware of the time because I cannot miss a pumping session or La Leche league will send me a strongly worded letter and my reserves will dry up (or so they say.) Anyway, I decided to put the hooter hider on and feed O in public. I figure, THESE people are open minded...it's not like there aren't enough boobs on display in the modern wing. I mean, no one was staring or anything...no one said anything, but it's still extremely strange to me to know that there is a baby attached to my boob and I am in the middle of a museum. I actually recommend you try it one day. It makes you feel very aware of yourself...very alive...probably like skydiving, only, safer.
I have a rant about the scare tactics that new moms have to go through, one of them being breastfeeding all of the time or your production will disappear, but I actually don't have time for that right now.

5am is sooooo last month. 2am is the new black.

I couldn't decide which title I wanted to use for this blog, so you get both. Time is of the essence when O is napping, so I can't waste it on picking favorites.
I am pretty sure diaper rashes are a big red flag that you are a terrible mother because you don't change your baby's diaper enough...or, that is how I feel. Olivia gave us a small glimmer of hope with the dirty diaper every other day scenario, but now is back on poo-per-view (oh I crack myself up). I KNOW I didn't change my eating habits, but something is making her go ALL of the time. Hence, the diaper rash that won't quit. Desitin and I are becoming close buds.
John, Google and I have almost figured her out, though with the increased appetite and increased sleepiness, she is going through a growth spurt. It would probably make me feel better to actually measure her to see if that is the case, but why do that when the pediatrician is going to do that today. I am pretty sure he will confirm our suspicions that all of this craziness is due to the fact that we have a growing baby on our hands and she is NOT, any other really bad thing that I can think of to make me lose sleep at night. I am my fathers daughter and I always think of the worst possible scenarios until I am told differently, by a reliable source.
Needless to say, I have been in a bad-mommy slump this past week because my daughter is excreting something out of most of her orifices and I can't do much to stop it. The good part about young babies is that they can't really move much so you can put them down and be confident they won't run away. The bad part about young babies is that most any medication is verboten. Vaporizers probably only make you feel like you are doing something to pass the time until the virus works it's way out of your baby's system. It's like a sugar pill for impatient, panicky mommies.
Speaking of moving...Olivia, as if on queue, has started to roll over at 4 months. Like her cousin before her, she only goes in one direction. But, it's something. That is so weird how they do these things on their own. I'd like to fool myself into believing that my rolling her over onto her belly for tummy time has taught her to do it for herself, but it is probably just a synapse that goes off at the four month mark. The next stage is sitting up. What I am really looking forward to is the belly laughs.
What to Expect the First Year is also implying that now would be the time to introduce solids, or rice cereal in the boob juice. Due to the fact that Olivia's appetite has spiked, I am tempted to try it. I already purchased some Gerber cereal...I am just waiting for the doctor's okay. I am hoping this quenches her appetite in the evenings and we can get rid of her need to feed at 2am.
Of the many books I have read, 4 months is when they are supposed to start sleeping through the night. Supernanny says that I can't expect that until she is on solids. But, then there's the conundrum of my feeding her just feeds (pun intended) her need to wake up in the middle of the night. What if I just let her "cry it out". Will she soothe herself back to sleep and I can finally get my nights back or am I just teaching her that no one will come to her when she needs them. You will get "expert" opinions on both counts. Hey, I just gave up bringing her into my bed with me. I have had more cold turkey than post-Thanksgiving for this month, thank you very much.
Well, it's off to see my pedi. Pediatrician that is. (Oh where it the other thing). Hopefully he doesn't verbalize how I feel. "Look at this diaper rash! Look at this snot! You are a terrible mother!"

Man, I love my man!

Every once in a while you stop to think how lucky you are to have ended up with the man that you did... Of course, it's all balanced by other situations, but I won't dwell on that right now.
When I was "recovering" from Olivia's birth, I would send him to the store for my "supplies", of which included hemorrhoid paraphernalia and uber-maxi-pads (sorry to break it to you who haven't given birth yet..) And he would go without a sigh or a huff. Today, I sent him to the store to get my breast pads, which I apparently became dangerously low on unbeknownst to me. And, he went! I can just imagine the little old lady at the Walgreens checkout counter looking up at him and seeing that halo around his head and thinking to herself...that woman he's getting those breast pads for...she's one lucky girl. Yep, yep I am. ;-)
Addendum 7/6/09
Last night, when Olivia woke up every hour and a half and I swear I was going to lose my mind because I was stuck with trying to feed her and get her to go back to sleep because John was coming down with some cold and I couldn't wake him up, but boy, he'd better be at death's door if I was going to be stuck with this sh#% and yes I know this is the world's longest most English-teacher-offensive run-on-sentence... Anyway, at 2am, when I was just on the verge of tears because Olivia had woke up AGAIN, I was downstairs warming a bottle for her when John puts his hands around my waist and says "Do you want me to take care of this?"
Of course, I still wanted to be angry at him, so I said "It doesn't matter at this point." (Yes, I cringe the more I think about it.) But, then, I go upstairs to give Olivia the bottle and he's already sitting in the glider with baby in position for feeding. "Let me take care of this and you go back to sleep."
Ahhhhhh. Let me not forget these precious moments.

Red, White and snot all over

Happy Birthday, USA!
Now for the non-patriotic portion of this program:
This week John was going out of town for two days and one of them was a day when O was supposed to go to the daycare at his work. It has been tres convenient that there is a daycare at John's work...until this week. Anyway, I went, on Monday, to pick Olivia up with him so he could give me a quick tour of what I need to do when I drop Olivia off on Wednesday. Put bottles here, sign in here, put Olivia here...easy enough.
Then I notice that every baby has caked green snot on their noses. Oh goody, just what I am sure I have to look forward to. Now, I did mention that Olivia got a cold last week, but she has been leaking the clear stuff. This was opaque and greenish...what we were supposed to look out for.
Well, not only has her nose been oozing the green opaque stuff for the rest of the week, but she has also been "warm". I actually had to do the rectal thermometer for the first time. (This stuff all seems simple enough when you are practicing on a doll that doesn't move, but when you have a stick like object in your baby's bottom and she insists on squirming....you start to panic...adding to the panic you are already feeling that she has a fever and you'll have to try and get a hold of the pediatrician.)
Luckily she only got up to 99.5 degrees (below the call-your-doctor-100.4). But that is the good news. The bad news is that I was otherwise ill-prepared for a baby with a cold. I had this Johnson's vapor bath stuff to help clear the passages, but that was it. I knew that I could sit in the bathroom with the shower on high heat to steam up the room, but, to my dismay, our water does not get hot enough (I guess I'll be happy when she's older that she can't burn herself on our water) I had to make an emergency trip to Walgreens to get a Vicks vaporizer among other baby cold accoutrement that excludes any kind of medication that they can't have at this age.
Along with the green gunk, comes the inability to breathe well and the inability to eat and sleep well....for everyone involved. I went two nights straight without any sort of deep sleep. I joke that I would confess to anything at this point, but sleep deprivation is practiced as torture. I mean, poor Olivia.
Again, I have to bitch about the nasal aspirator thing. Since babies cannot blow their own noses, we have to suck out the bad stuff. They should sell these things with a head restraint because Olivia is having none of it. Every time I come near her nose, she moves her head from side to side. I am surprised I have not poked her eyes out (knock on wood). I have gotten to ignore the doctor's recommendations of just putting the tip of the aspirator up to her nose, because that does bupkis.
I am finding out the hard way that being a baby nurse is mostly a mother's job. John assembled the vaporizer, but I get the bath and nose-sucking duties. I must have picked the short straw in my sleep....or during the sleep deprivation.
Luckily, though, last night, Olivia slept from 8-5am and then went back to sleep after a morning feed until 8:30am. I get to at least enjoy this holiday with some coherency.
On the happy side of life, Olivia is starting to laugh. Not the belly laughs that really make life worth living, but a laugh nonetheless. She was starting to whine about, I forget what, when I go to her "oh boo hoo". Apparently "boo hoo" sounds funny to her and she just smiled and started laughing. So now, to John's anti-enjoyment, I am saying "boo hoo" with some frequency. The other thing that makes her smile (not quite laugh) is when I say ma-ma. YESSSSSSS!
That's another thing, I sometimes think about the fact that I am a mother. I guess, so far, I have been a mom but just not thinking about it. When you stop to think about it, you really feel strange (good strange, but strange). Like when you stop to think about the fact that you are an adult. You know you have been working, you may be married, you definitely are able to drink adult beverages...but you just feel like you should BE older. I know I have this amazing, beautiful, baby girl, but I just don't always let it sink in that she's mine and I am her ma-ma. WHERE's my kleenex?!