RoRo broke her fell and broke her hip a week and a half ago. She had hip replacement surgery and spent 5 days in Mercy San Juan Hospital. Visiting her there, just weeks after my own stay there, was super-creepy: same lights, same sounds, same routine and uncomfortable procedures. She was even dressed in an identical hospital gown as the one I had. Yuck. She is now at Eskaton in Fair Oaks; she’s receiving care and physical and occupational therapy there. She’s ornery and bitchy and extremely demanding. But this is better than the wacky and delirious ramblings she was spouting after the surgery. Day by day she gets more lucid and normal. The bizzare things she’s been saying are evidence that surgery is traumatic to the body and the brain, especially to older people, they tell us. I’m happy that she is now less confused. We’ve been visiting her every other day or so, but I can never stay for more than a couple of hours. She wants to hold Asher the whole time I’m there. If I have to take him back from her, to feed him, for instance, she pouts. If I have to leave to pick up Lucas, she pouts. If I don’t come every day, she pouts.

I’m working a tiny bit. I have a client who would like me to be working more on a project that has a fast-approaching deadline. I have to buckle down and do it because I’ve made a commitment, but it’s hard. Asher is taking up all my time. Although he sleeps a lot, he doesn’t sleep very well or long when I’m not holding him. I’ve been getting computer time in chunks of 10 minutes here and there–not enough to accomplish much.

Lucas is doing well, although I’d be lying if I didn’t mention that sometimes he drives me crazy. I’ve been trying to keep him busy with fun things, play dates, etc. He has two weeks of spring break coming and I don’t know if we’ll both survive it. I can see that he is changing. His fifth birthday is only a month away.

I compose many LJ posts in my head but cannot seem to find a moment to input them, and before I know it, I’ve forgotten what I wanted to say. I rarely have two hands free and there are just so many jobs around here that require two hands!

I’m not getting enough sleep. I need a big 6-hour chunk and it’s just not gonna happen. This is discouraging at times. Thank heaven for 5-HTP. I’m taking two capsules per day and I think it’s helping my mood. I wish I had known about it when Lucas was an infant. Perhaps with it I wouldn’t have been so down and bluesy all the time.

My days are full of caregiving, household chores, occasional lunches out with friends or Ian, nursing, napping, and boredom.

Shit! I have $64.00 in library fines because I got sick and totally forgot I had books checked out! I can’t renew online because I’ve exceeded maximum level of sucky patronage allowed and must hang my head in shame and pay for my sins in person. $64.00! Goddamn!

EDIT: Went to the library today. It turns out that the max they will fine you on any single book is $5 (their website lies). I had two overdue books out, and some assorted tiny fines on some of Lucas’s books that were turned in late. Total damage = $14.60 I very happily payed the fine. They even let me renew them so I can finish reading them.

We’re doing this getting-to-know you dance now.

It’s like slowly filling in the gaps of information about a person after you’ve already fallen in love with him. Day by day we learn little things; we guess at what will make him happy, what will satisfy. We’re slowly learning his language. We wonder who he will be, who he will look like, whether his eyes will change from deep ocean blue to brown like mine or grey-green like Ian’s or slate blue like Lucas’s. We wonder what he will be amused by, what his laugh will sound like, when he’ll reach all his “milestones.”

I’ve been home now for six weeks. At first I felt disconnected from this tiny being, felt like an outsider coming into a family unit that was functioning without me (especially since I remained pretty sick for the two weeks following my discharge from the hospital). I didn’t know how to feed Asher formula from a bottle (having never done it before), what his sleeping/eating rhythms were, what tricks would comfort him. The last six weeks have been an intensive training time, during which he’s taught me all kinds of things.

I know now that he’s more of a snacker at the breast than a gorger. This means shorter intervals between nursing, which can be tiring. At first he seemed to prefer the bottle, possibly because the milk flows quicker. That seems to have changed though. I spent several weeks working to build up my milk supply (drinking gallons of water and special tea blends, taking fenugreek capsules until my body odor smells like maple syrup—go figure), and pumping with a torture device known as a Medela Symphony 2 (a $1400 breast pump we rented). For a while he was still drinking one bottle of Enfamil per day. It’s been at least a week and a half since Asher had any formula so I think we’re safely off it now and breastfeeding exclusively.

I know he prefers to sleep on me (or someone else) or in my arms to sleeping by himself. His favorite place to sleep seems to be at my side with his head just beneath my armpit and his body curled into my body. His cheek rests on my breast. He’ll sleep for hours this way, but if I move away to go do something else, he’ll sleep only a fraction of the time. Perhaps he likes my maple syrupy/milky smell. I know he doesn’t like to wake up alone. Already. I don’t blame him there. I don’t like to wake up alone either.

I know that the hours between 5 pm and 8 pm are especially hard for Asher. We call it Fuss O’Clock; other parents call it the Witching Hour because all babies go completely nuts during this important and hectic time of day. We’re trying assorted strategies to calm him, but the truth is most likely he’ll just have to grow out of it.

Asher can smile now at us know, and witnessing this new expression appear is like inhaling a breath of sweet spring air or watching the sun come out from behind a cloud. It’s a goofy and lopsided toothless grin and it melts my heart.

Asher is now four weeks old today. Crazy how the time has both dragged and flown by. I’ve had a lot on my mind and a lot going on in my body.

Asher is fuller now. All that formula is rounding him out. He has chubby cheeks now and gorgeous dark blue eyes. I wonder if they’ll change to brown or be like his daddy’s and brother’s eyes. We’ll have to wait several months to find out. Asher’s hair is lighter than Lucas’s was at this age, although it’s fairly similar to Lucas’s hair color now.

Last night was tough because Asher was awake from about 2 to 4:15 a.m. Today he and I bravely ventured into the sunny, crisp world today to go to a doctor’s appointment. I managed him by myself, but it wasn’t easy. He’s heavy and awkward to carry in that carseat. He doesn’t like it at all.

Health Aside: Doctor Chen says I’m definitely getting better. My white count is back to normal now. No fevers. Uterine tenderness is almost completely gone. She wants to hear what the OB says about the ultrasound and she wants me to have another CT scan in 2-3 weeks to see if that fluid has been reabsorbed. In general, she’s very happy with how I’m doing now compared to two weeks ago, when I was “sick as heck.”

Thaemos surprised us by joining us for lunch today. He helped by schlepping the littlest Wilson to the Red Rose Kindergarten class so we could pick up Lucas, then we all went to lunch at Carmelita’s. It was a perfectly wonderful surprise and very helpful to boot. Asher slept through the meal. Lucas gobbled a bean and cheese burrito, and it was fun.

It’s tricky to manage Lucas and Asher by myself as I did this afternoon. Lucas desperately wants my attention at all times. He’s still struggling with adjusting to a new baby in the house and still coping with feelings related to my disappearing to go to the hospital and my slow recovery. He’s a giant ball of energy in constant motion. When I’m not feeling well, I have little to no patience for his antics. He makes so much noise. He talks back. He puts on a tough-guy attitude and wants to fight/wrestle/play “army”/stomp/run/crash etc. It’s exhausting to me. His love for his baby brother is exuberant and a little too rough, a little too germy, a little too loud. Lucas is dealing with the fact that I’m not able to pay attention to him in the same way I always have. I try to find ways to give him special attention. Lately, I’ve been helping him get ready for bed more, reading stories, etc. If he calls out in the night, I try to go to him myself instead of sending daddy. Fortunately, he still says that cuddles with me before bed are still his favorite time of day.

I’m doing much better now. Today I took my last antibiotic pill — hopefully the infection is gone for good. I’m nervous that I might start hurting again now that I’ve completed the course of drugs. I still have fluid in my abdominal cavity that shouldn’t be there, but it doesn’t seem to be an abscess. I tire easily. We’re waiting to hear what the OB says about my ultrasound — something about a possible blood clot per the technician. Doc says more CT scans are in my future. Mmmmm … barium. I am afraid sometimes.

I’m spending time getting to know my baby, now that I feel well enough to actually care for him. Hopefully in two days I’ll be breastfeeding again. Bottlefeeding + pumping sucks! Especially the pumping part. Asher is great — healthy and strong. He eats all the time. He’s really wonderful and pretty easy, so far. We’ve had a couple of easier nights (meaning he has slept more and eaten less during the night), so we’re hoping he’s adjusting his rhythms to better match ours. We took him to a friend’s house on Sunday to hang out with folks and he slept most of the time we were there. It gave us a wonderful opportunity to relax and rest, but also to be around loving friends and be social.

Dad is back from Hawaii with prezzies and a bad cold. Somehow it didn’t stop him from diving. I’m glad he didn’t stay home because of me.

The antibiotics are working, as far as I can tell. No fevers now; pain is only occasional and could be more related to the antibiotics wiping out all the helpful flora in my body than to the infection. (It’s hard to say and I feel like a hypochondriac: in my craziness, every twinge could be a sign of a deadly condition.) I’ve shrunk, meaning the edema from all the drugs and fluids they pumped into me is pretty much gone–thank god. Looking down and seeing someone else’s hips, legs, ankles, and feet instead of my own was extremely disconcerting–a peculiar and powerful mindfuck I hope I never experience again!

I have ventured out of the house only a few times in the last two weeks, heading to doctors’ appointments and taking Lucas to some friends’ house for the day. Last night we dropped Lucas off at grandma and grandpa’s house and went to a fabulous birthday party. We stayed only a few hours and I wish we could have stayed longer, but I had a wonderful time while I was there. So many beautiful, shining people. So much love and joie de vivre packed into one house. I wish there were more time for visiting with out-of-town guests. The birthday girl was fantabulously tremendifous, as usual, and the hostesses and helpers deserve major points for creating such magic in the midst of extremely busy lives. Thank you, party people, for providing the most fun moments of my last month.

Lucas is hovering between being an endearing helper and an annoying snot lately. His amount of energy and activity has been far more than I can comfortably handle during these past two weeks at home. He’s bored with my recuperation and wants active attention from me, and I just don’t have a lot to give him. I feel bad about farming him out to friends’ houses for playdates and babysitting after vanishing from his life for six days straight, but there has been no way for me to manage/entertain him, take care of myself, and look after Asher. (Ian’s only been back to work for the last four days, prior to that, he was doing everything and taking care of everyone while I took pills, slept, pumped, and moaned.) I try to tell Lucas often how much I love him, and how happy I am to be with him, even if I can’t do all the things he’s like me to do. At least I’m well enough to cuddle him in bed every night at bedtime.

Asher is delightful. Fortunately, so far, he is an easy baby. He sleeps many, many hours every day. When he’s not sleeping, he’s sucking down formula like crazy. It’s frustrating to pump and dump my breastmilk every 3-4 hours (makes me feel like a dairy cow)and have to fix him bottles of formula. The truth is, if we were living 60 years ago, we both might have died because of this infection: me because of the infection, him because of inadequate nourishment. So, now I regret the bitchy thoughts I had at Costco a month ago when I watched a couple with a baby put a case of Enfamil in their shopping cart. I thought to myself, “my baby won’t have to drink that crap, and I won’t have to spend money on it.” Life threw me a curve ball.

I have a couple days’ worth of antibiotics left to take. I am hopeful that sometime this week I’ll get the doctor’s OK to breastfeed, that my milk will be in adequate supply for Asher’s voracious appetite, and that he will return to breastfeeding with ease instead of with resistance. They say it’s easier for babies to eat from a bottle; they don’t have to work as hard as when they suckle from a real breast. We’ll see if Asher has become a lazy eater in this time.

I’m fearful that after I take the last of the antibiotics the pain and fevers will return. This is probably just fear. I have a lot of fear these days. I am grateful to all the men and women who discovered/developed the wide range of available antibiotics: If penicillin were the only one, I’d be dead now.

So, morbid thoughts. Yep, I have a lot of them now. I have a lot of feelings that are ugly and frightening and big. It’s pretty crazy inside my head these days. Oh, one of the drugs I was on a week ago has depression as a side effect. Sometimes I do feel depressed. But I’m alive and safe and very, very well loved.

Ian’s back at work this week. At times that’s fine and other times it’s not. Today has been a very emotional day. I wonder if it’s the baby blues or if I’m just reeling from all that’s happened to me lately. Either way, I feel sucky and sad. My meds make me feel bad.

Dakini carted me around a bunch yesterday. She took me and Asher to a pediatrician appointment in the morning and then took us both to my ultrasound appointment and blood draw later in the day. I was glad for the company and happy I didn’t have to manage the baby and the carseat and the stuff all by myself. I’m getting stronger, but have little stamina or strength right now. All this bed rest has turned my muscles to mush. So, anyway, thank you, Dakini for the grocery run and the companionship!

Asher is three weeks old today. The pediatrician says he’s now 9 pounds, 4 ounces, which is good growth. Next time we see her, she’ll want to give him 6 different vaccines. I have to decide how I feel about that.

Today was quieter; no appointments to go to. NoNo came over in the morning to watch over us. She graciously cleaned my kitchen and living room and held me while I cried. Thanks, NoNo.

I’m such a basketcase. I’m afraid a lot.

Although there is fluid in my abdominal cavity, it’s been confirmed by my recent CT scan (and compared to last week’s) that it’s not an abscess. This is very good, because “abscess” meant hospitalization and “drainage,” which sounds a lot like “surgery” to me. So.

Dr. Chen is good. She’s clever and thorough and communicative. She called me twice yesterday and said she would be in the office today faxing pertinent pages of the 50 pages of records she received from the hospital to my new OB/gyn, whom I will see on Monday.

The Number 1 theory is therefore still uterine infection. Yesterday was a pretty good day, despite the fact that at 4 am I was sure I’d be heading to the ER. The rest of the day shaped up nicely, with low to no fever and pain. I even felt good enough to demand a sushi dinner out. The four of us went to Wasabi and gorged. (Well, in truth, Asher slept and didn’t eat at all.) We were out about an hour before I got tired and wanted to be home again.

I feel a bit like a hypochondriac because every day seems to have so many ups and downs, aches and pains. Sometimes my chest hurts. I answer questions of “how do you feel?” with caution because it changes so rapidly. Today there’s a section of my right mid-back that’s hurting and I’m wondering if it’s one of my kidneys trying to process all the drugs and poison I’ve injested. (Barium is not food.)

I wish I could put my baby to breast! I think we both need it badly, but I don’t want his tiny system to have to cope with all these chemicals, and breastfeeding is forbidden for now. The formula satisfies him, which is good, but it makes me sad to feed him with a bottle and then pump and dump my milk. I have lots of fears about losing my milk supply completely to this stupid illness. Honestly, nursing is just about the most enjoyable part of having an infant.