I started this blog post on Thursday. It’s now Saturday morning, and I think I can get it done while Aunt Nora has Edward out on an adventure and Daniel sits peacefully in his car seat in a sunbeam.

Here’s the quick summary: we spent the week battling Daniel’s jaundice (hence the sunbeam), which required doctor visits every morning except Thursday. We’re now headed in the right direction though and we don’t have to go back until Wednesday for his two-week check up. Although I reported last Sunday that nursing was going well, by Monday afternoon Daniel had decided to become Bartleby the Breastfeeder (he "preferred not to") and it took until Thursday to get him fully back on track. In the meantime there were many frustrating attempts to get him to nurse directly so that I wouldn’t have to pump milk to feed him by syringe. Also early in the week, Edward, who is still very tender toward Daniel, decided that he did not have to interact with his parents in quite the same way. Several bedtime battles ensued leaving more than one member of the family in tears. But we think we’ve found a solution to that as well and haven’t had trouble the last few nights. We hope we’re back to his routine of post-dinner play time, bath/pajamas, a pile of books to read, a bit of juice and then off to bed with no fuss.

And for those who want the full report, here’s where I started on Thursday—skip this section if you’re squeamish about breastfeeding:

Daniel’s first week—what a whirlwind! Lots to report since the last post—the good, the bad, and the truly ugly. We took Daniel to the doctor on Monday for his post-hospital check up and he’d lost a little weight, but nothing alarming. He was looking a little yellow so they drew some blood to check his bilirubin level. They didn’t have us wait for the result because they didn’t think it would be high enough to warrant further treatment, but they called later that afternoon to say it was just below the level at which he’d need to be admitted for phototherapy (nothing invasive, just a therapeutic light—Will had this off and on, which was why he wore the purple goggles.)

So they decided we should have it rechecked on Wednesday instead of waiting until Friday to come back. In the meantime they reminded us that if he wasn’t eating well or was acting more lethargic/sleepy, we should call in and probably bring him back. Up to this point he’d been nursing really well, but this changed on Monday and into Tuesday morning. My milk really came in between Sunday and Monday, which would seem like a good thing for a kid who needs to eat, but it actually was too much. Even when I pumped to get things flowing for him he just wouldn’t latch. We ended up feeding him by syringe all through the night and we had to wake him to eat. So Tuesday morning I called to report that he was sleepier and not eating well, and they said to bring him back in. Luckily the bilirubin was not severely elevated from the previous day—just .3 higher, so no cause for alarm. Just keep doing what you’re doing and he’ll get back to direct breastfeeding.

Tuesday was a really hard day for all of us. Toward late afternoon the lactation consultant called to check on us—good timing, as she had some helpful tips for getting feeding back on track and easing my discomfort. She noted that both engorgement and jaundice peak at about 5 days of life, making things extra difficult—the breast is too large and hard for his tiny mouth and he’s too sleepy to make the effort. Plus, she said, despite his general good health and size, at 36 weeks he’s still only “near term” which means he needs more time to catch up to full term babies. While extremely helpful, the tips she suggested made each feeding attempt stretch to nearly an hour, so not much sleep to be had on Tuesday night. And that’s how I came to be standing over the sink at 2 a.m. Wednesday washing bottles and breast pump parts with an ice pack strapped to my chest with the belt of my robe. (Remember, I said at the beginning that things got ugly!) But we had a major break through at 4:53 a.m. when he latched on and nursed for a good 15 minutes. I felt like dancing, but was afraid to move even a millimeter from the extremely awkward hunched over position perched on the edge of the couch that I happened to be in when he finally started guzzling it down.

Since then he’s been nursing well, though it was Thursday before he was equally adept at latching on both right and left. Because of that I still had to do some pumping to ensure continued production when he wouldn’t nurse directly. That’s how I learned that I am again in the “super producer” category, when at one point I pumped three ounces in less than five minutes. Breastfeeding is all about supply and demand and right now he would only be demanding about an ounce or maybe two. The lactation consultant was quite impressed—or was it shocked?

Notwithstanding the cuteness of this photo of Ed playing with the Boppy pillow, Tuesday was also the day he decided to assert his right to be 2, refusing to let John change him for bed. He was screaming and rolling over on the changing table, making it impossible for John to get his diaper on. I ended up holding him down at the chest while John battled the kicking legs and finally got the diaper on. This battle became so emotional that two out of three of us ended up in tears and Edward went to bed without any stories because he couldn’t settle enough to be held and read to. I was beside myself that he was so upset and there was nothing I could do to comfort him since I can’t pick him up. I even laid down on the floor next to him trying to soothe him, but to no avail. He finally calmed once he was in bed.

The next morning, I invented the “magic changing blanket.” Since I can’t lift him to the changing table and he clearly was having some sort of problem with it anyway, we’re now laying a soft fuzzy blanket (thanks Aunt Janet!) on the floor and he willingly flops down to be changed—almost every time. I don’t delude myself that this is the end of it, but at least we’ve reached a temporary detente.

We had a day off from doctor visits on Thursday, but were back again Friday, where the combination of cold/flu season along with the arctic forecast and the Monday holiday had every nervous parent with a borderline ill child trying to squeeze in to see a doctor and avoid a weekend trip to the ER (we SO need an urgent care clinic for nights and weekends!!!) Our appointment was at 9:45. We arrived on time and took a seat in the “well child” waiting area—the hallway outside the clinic. We were the fifth in a row of infant car seats. People kept coming out of other offices along that hallway to see the “baby row.” Not a single person was called to go in for the first 30 minutes. I had the misfortune of having selected a seat next to a man who felt the need to maintain a constant narration of the world—sometimes spoken and sometimes sung—for his three-month-old, including such gems as “We’re at the hospital,” “Your brother has a cough” and “This is the university” repeated over and over and over until I thought I would throttle him.

Finally things got moving, but we still waited about 45 minutes just to get in the examining room. By then it was well past feeding time, so Daniel started chomping away just as the resident came in and wanted to check his yellow coloring. She did the best she could while he kept nursing. I was so mad about waiting so long I wasn’t in the mood to be accommodating. He finished nursing while she consulted with the attending doctor and they both came back to report that they wanted do repeat the blood test to be sure the bilirubin was decreasing. They thought he looked “less yellow” but it wasn’t obvious enough that they were comfortable going with their gut, especially given the aforementioned long weekend ahead. Also, even though his full week weight gain was within the expected range, he’d lost two ounces since Wednesday.

So back to the lab, where, for the first time all week, there was not a full waiting room of people ahead of us. It was our turn in short order, and we finally got out of there at about 11:30—just enough time to pick up some lunch for ourselves and then get over to the daycare to pick up Edward at noon. The doctor called mid-afternoon to report that the bilirubin level was indeed on its way down--a full point lower than it had been on Wednesday, so we'll hope that continues and maybe we won't have a yellow kid by next week. Which basically brings us up to date. Aunt Nora arrived shortly after Ed woke up from his nap and he’s been having a ball with her ever since—impressing her with his constant conversation and ability to count to 10.

My sitemeter report indicates that there were more than 500 hits on the blog this week—about double our usual traffic. I assume that’s multiple checks by the same people seeking updates. We’ll try to keep things current, but it’s amazing how fast the time slips away. John heads back to work next week—in the office in the mornings and at home (as much as can be accomplished amid the chaos) in the afternoons.

And to show that we did have moments of levity in this stressful week, here’s Edward’s attempt to remove his own shirt, for no apparent reason other than he discovered that it was possible: