The Senakams | Corgi + 3

One month!

Hard to believe that Baby Eva just turned one month this past week already! She's literally grown right in front of our eyes- from that ball of dough that only eats, poops, cries and sleeps to this little person seemingly complete with her very own personality.

Take this day that she turned 4 weeks old- she woke up cranky as usual, but after a diaper change and a yummy breastfast of breastmilk, hubby put her on his lap, and all of a sudden, she broke out in this widest, happiest smile for the first time:

We were over the moon, playing with her and trying to make her smile and laugh some more. But of course that didn't last. Oh well, at least we got this precious moment down :)

I have to say that despite of the fact that I was convinced I was going to suffer from a mental breakdown when we first came home, we've slowly grown into our little family... 

We take Eva on our daily morning walk with Bryson so we can take a detour to Arizmendi for a cup of much-needed coffee while she naps peacefully (the world seems so perfect during this precious hour...)

We drive around all afternoon for errands, shopping trips, long lunches, sometimes aimelessly even though we want nothing more than a nap, just coz she's always nice and quiet when we're out.

When we come home, we deal with her 4-8 p.m. crying marathon with non-stop feeding, burping, holding, swinging until she finally passes out.

And here's more of our little bundle of trouble joy:

1. Baby Eva @ 4 weeks, 2. Daily a.m. coffee run, 3. 1-month birthday at Kirala, 4. Who are you and why are you running our lives?, 5. Hanging out, 6. I love grandma <3, 7. Cross-eyed, 8. Wink wink ;), 9. DON'T! LIKE! SKIRT!, 10. Mind control, 11. Sleepy mess, 12. Can we donate her?, 13. Early morning, 14. First time out, 15. I am cute :), 16. Public transit, 17. FIrst pediatrician appointment, 18. Would you pleae burp now?, 19. Tiny, 20. Gas

For more photos of our first 4 weeks home, check out our Flickr album here. Enjoy!

Breastfeed or perish!

Thank you everyone again for coming to this neurotic new mom's rescue!

All you comments and e-mails channeling positive energy and sharing your personal experience really helped get me through this past week, as I learned how some of you have gone through the exact same struggle with breastfeeding and the dilemma with formula.

I've since ditched the whole "breastfeed or perish" mantra (where did that come from? More later in this post), and accepted that whatever works for us will have to do.

But here's the ironic thing... no sooner than I semi-gave-up on this whole breastfeeding deal, that things started turning the corner for us. Maybe it's the more relaxed attitude, or the help (i.e. the super potent steroid/antimicrobial cocktail unguent) we got from the lactation consultant, or just sheer luck (or stubborness), breastfeeding has gradually become less like a contact sport (involving lots of sweat and tears), the pain more manageable (I no longer compare that to childbirth itself), and has gone from "there's no way I can do this" to "this is hard but it could be manageable".

We're still supplementing, and I still don't know what the future holds for us in this department, I'm just glad that feeding time no longer resemble interrogation at Guantanamo Bay.

At this eerily calm feeding session at 4 a.m. this morning, staring down at Eva contently attached to my breast, I suddenly realized why new moms (or at least I) am so emotionally charged when it comes to breastfeeding...

For nine long months, you're physically connected to this being in every way. You grow and nurture her without ever having to think about it. It just happens. But when she's born, all of a sudden she's no longer physically attached to and dependent on you. Everything that she needs- diaper change, burping, holding and loving, even feeding if formula is used, can be provided by someone else. It feels as if breastfeeding her is the last visceral connection you can still have with your baby. Being able to breastfeed provides the validation that emotionally vulnerable new moms (i.e. I) need in order to feel "needed" by their babies. In other words, I'm selfishly breastfeeding her more for myself than for her.

Well, at least that's my theory.

By the way, today's my birthday, which I almost forgot if hubby didn't remind me yesterday. It means so much more now that I've given birth to Eva to know what happened today 30 some years ago when my mom pushed me out to this world (and without an epidural too, thanks, mom!) Apparently my parents will be looking after Eva while hubby takes me out to dinner tonight. I've heard of new moms breaking down in tears at their first outings without their babies. I'll let you know how ours go!

Here are some random pictures from this past week (sorry for the poor quality as they're from hubby's phone, don't have time to whip out the "real" camera...) Enjoy!

 
Buckteeth! Naw, just a sucking blister that's coming off :D LOL!

 
Wide awake- with her eyes open, she's starting to look more like her daddy...

 
Fresh air and adult company- all I need to feel like myself again (thanks, Auntie Aimee!)

 
Bryson enjoying the fresh air too!

 
Out at a cafe- she loves being in a crowd. We should live out on the street.

Eva's Surgery

The adrenaline of bringing home a new baby has finally worn off, and we're up in arms dealing with our new reality.

Sometimes I wake up from a nap (you really can't call an hour or two of shut-eye sleep), and I wonder if this is all just a weird dream... that is until I look over and see a little body heaving under the swaddle in the co-sleeper, that it hits me that she's really here and there's no returning her (can't exchange for store credit either *sigh*).

I now understand why all those new moms on Baby Story are so tearful. One minute you're in awe of how beautiful your baby is, and the next minute you feel utterly helpless and overwhelmed, borderlining on having a panic attack when the overwhelming sense of responsibility hits you like a ton of bricks.

Sometimes all I can do is sit there and cry. If I can limit my crying to less frequent than her feeding (8-10x/day), that is a good day.

Speaking of feeding, this whole breastfeeding thing has been the hugest challenge of this whole experience. I'm sort of prepared for the physical challenge- I have a pre-existing condition and previous surgery that makes it difficult to breastfeed (think rock-hard scar plus open sores and blisters, ouch!), but what I'm not prepared for are the emotional side of things...

I had no idea how inadequate and incompetent the lack of success in this department would make you feel. There's nothing more disappointing than feeling like you fail at providing this most basic life-sustaining nutrition to your baby. To make things worse, Eva was born tongue-tied, and thus compounded on the problem since she couldn't latch well and she bites when she's frustrated (double OUCH!!).

After much deliberation, we took her in to the Children's Hospital for the quick frenulum (the piece of skin that attaches the tongue to the lower palate) clipping procedure, hoping that'll make things easier for both of us, and also hoping it'll help with her speech later on.

She only fussed a bit that day and it was really minimally invasive as the doctor said, but I can't even look when they're clipping her (which took like 10 seconds), and hubby had to hold her down while I stand in the opposite corner of the room, clenching my fist trying hard not to cry...

We're seeing a lactation consultant to follow up on this tomorrow. We're willing to give this whole breastfeeding thing a bit more time and patience, but both are running low as is... And for now, the pump is my best friend, whom I hang out with 8-10x/day, 15 minutes at a time. It actually feels like I'm almost hanging out with this mechanical device more than I'm spending time with my baby, which feels totally wrong but yet, if I don't, then my baby's not getting any breast milk. How ironic, eh?

Anyway, sorry for this heavy post. I just need to get this off my chest. When you're home dealing with this 24 hours a day, it kinda feels like you're under house arrest and cut off from the world. Writing here (and hearing from you) helps me know that the world's still going on, that there's normalcy outside of our warped little world of worries and anxiety here.