We only stayed one night in the hospital after Aveline's birth, which was fantastic. For more than one reason. First, anyone who has ever stayed in a hospital knows that it is nearly impossible to get any rest with all of the nurses, doctors, janitors, food delivery people, etc., coming in and out of your room on a constant basis. And with two patients in the room -- Mommy and Baby -- I think it is even worse. And this time around I had the added bonus of having to tell the hospital staff that I am gluten free. What did this mean to the hospital? Apparently that I can eat nothing but fruit. All I was brought was fruit plate after fruit plate. And juice. Until I informed the woman delivering the food that I could actually eat meat. And rice. And vegetables. So I did end up getting one plate of chicken (which was breaded in something, so I could not actually eat it), plain rice, and bland green beans. Thankfully poor Jarrett had to go in search of food for himself anyway and, thus, was able to bring back heartier meals for me. Seriously, though, the medical world thinks a nursing mom can really survive off just fruit?
We were happy to welcome several visitors even during our short stay. My parents brought Elsa up later in the afternoon on Aveline's birthday after a trip to the zoo. Elsa was thrilled with her gift from Avie, a Winnie the Pooh Lego set. And she had fun giving Avie her gift, which were two blankies similar to those Elsa is attached to. But other than that she did not want to have anything to do with the baby. She was immediately best friends with whomever was not holding Aveline, and if you did have the baby in your arms, Elsa chose to completely ignore you. (Little did we know this was just the beginning.) I did pass the baby off to my mom at some point and was happy to welcome Elsa into my bed with me for a bit of cuddling, or as much as she would allow. Later that evening, our friends, Shelly and Alison, made a visit, and it was fun showing off the baby to them and catching them up on the birth story. Tim and Kate followed, bearing food from Ted's Montana Grill, which was a godsend. I think both Jarrett's and my bodies are still thanking them for that.
We had a little (or, really, not so little) scare with Avie while Alison and Shelly were visiting us. Jarrett was changing Aveline's rather explosive diaper, and Shelly was even attempting to help out in the cleaning endeavor, when Avie spit up and started choking. Jarrett immediately picked her up, flipped her over on his arm and started patting her back, but she seemed completely unresponsive and was turning gray. I started pounding every call button I could find around my bed, and Shelly ran out the door and down the hall to the nurses station, calling for help. Nurses started running in, but by that time Jarrett had taken the bulb syringe and thought to suction out her mouth, which did the trick. But it was quite frightening, especially for Jarrett, who was right in the middle of it all. So we were both quite shaken up by the time poor Tim and Kate got there, probably proving to not be the best company. The nurses informed us that this kind of things happen more often than we would think, but that did not really reassure us any. Thankfully that has been the only scare of that sort, and any spitting up now seems completely normal.
I got hardly any sleep that night -- maybe an hour or two tops -- because between Jarrett and I, we had Avie by our side or in our arms the entire night. She was a little fussy and much happier in our arms, and we were nervous about having her at much distance from us after the choking episode. So I held her much of the night, nodding off, but then nodding right back awake, afraid that I might drop her or something.
I think we were discharged from the hospital by around 2:00 p.m. the next afternoon. We had a visit from Anjli that morning, which was really nice and very informative. And both Avie and I had a checklist of things that had to be accomplished before we could leave (some tests for her -- bilirubin and hearing -- and a Rhogam shot for me). But we both ended up checking out fine (they were slightly concerned about her bilirubin levels, but said our pediatrician could just keep an eye on it) and were on our way home that afternoon.
It was wonderful to get home and try to settle in a bit. But Elsa immediately started having a really hard time with the adjustment of a baby in the house. She continued to ignore whomever was holding the baby (which was obviously me, most of the time), and that started really taking a toll on my and my raging hormones. My parents were originally planning on going home that evening, but I finally convinced them that we all actually did want them around another evening, and that I thought it would be good for Elsa too. So they stayed one more night. I did not get a heck of a lot of sleep that first night either, but I at least got some, which felt great.
Now we have been home for nearly two weeks. I am averaging between five and seven hours of broken sleep per night, which is not terrible, and I am surviving. We are all tired (well maybe all of us except the baby anyway), but hanging in there. Elsa is still having a pretty difficult time. She has always been super sensitive to noise. At a very young age, she was super upset by people sneezing or coughing, and she has always been bothered by others crying, especially other children. So a crying baby is really putting a toll on her. (Little does she know that Aveline is so far crying a lot less than she did as a baby.) When Aveline cries or makes any noises, really, Elsa is quick to go hide in a corner of a room somewhere away from the baby. It started out that she would go into her room and slam the door closed and hide behind the rocking chair. Now she is at least not closing the door as much, but the hiding continues. And when she is trapped in her car seat next to the crying baby, she starts crying -- hyperventilating even -- too. She has not yet ventured to touch the baby in any way. And it has been a huge step in the last couple of days for her to sit on the couch next to me while I nurse the baby (as she watches Little Einsteins).
Elsa has definitely been the source of any post-partum depression for me at this point. I feel bad for her and the rough adjustment this is proving to be. And I think I am partly mourning the loss of our alone time together. She and I were a team for three years, and now our team has expanded. I have already missed out on things for which I was always by her side in the past, including her three-year-old doctor's visit today. But I do not even know if she is as bothered by those things as I am. In talking to her about the situation, I have discovered that she is really concerned about Avie. The reason she does not like the crying is because she thinks there is something wrong with the baby, and she wants to be able to fix it. So now she is at least telling me, "I think she needs her paci, Mommy" or "I think she is hungry -- can you feed her?" But we still have a long ways to go. I know she will come around and will grow to love her little sister some day. But right now we are just riding the emotional rollercoaster and trying to continue to assure our little one that everything is okay.
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