Another pediatrician visit, this one with measurements:

Veronica currently weighs 9 lbs. 14.4 oz. She is 22.75 inches long. According to the doctor's charts, she's in the 95th percentile for height, 75th for weight, and 77th for head circumfrence (which was 14.5 in. when she was born and is currently 15.25 in.) So what does that mean? Not a damn thing, except that she's healthy and within the larger realm of what is normal range for her age. And of course, confirmation as to why a lot of her little newborn outfits no longer fit her. :-)

The next visit will be her 2-month-old checkup with - gulp - her vaccinations. Wish us BOTH luck, we're gonna need it.

So it's who-knows-when-in-the-morning last night, and I'm watching "I Love the 80's" on VH1 while waiting for a very full, very sleepy Veronica to finally zonk out so that she can be placed in her bassinet and Mommy can get some sleep.

Throughout the course of "I Love the 80's - 1988", they go over "Win, Lose, or Draw" and "Perfect Strangers". This leads me to think about watching those shows when I was a kid and therefore takes my mind back to that time and place. Then this thought pops into my brain:

I start getting nostalgic when I think of watching these shows back in the 80's. So will I someday wax nostalgic about watching a show in 2003 about waxing nostalgic for 1988?

This made MUCH more sense to my sleep-deprived brain last night, lemme tell ya. At the very least, it created enough of a mental loop to keep me awake until Veronica fell asleep.

So how's the first week alone with baby going, you may ask?

I'd say lousy, considering that I'm no longer alone and my mom is back, at least until Saturday.

At least I have a decent excuse, in the form of a 101 degree fever on Tuesday, most likely caused by a pulled muscle and stretched stitches around my incision. The fever has broken, but my abdomen is still sore. A nurse-practitioner at my OB/GYN's office examined me and told me to not do anything to hurt the muscle, which I really can't do if I'm watching the baby alone. Why can't I limit my movements, you may ask? (Well, you probably won't - common sense will prevail - but I'll tell you anyway.) Because my baby has gas.

Laugh all you want, if you think that's funny, but I've never been so unamused by farts before in my life. In fact, it's safe to say that I've never before looked forward to someone farting. But no matter what Veronica eats (breastmilk or soy formula), no matter which bottle it's in, she gets horrible gas. She burps, she spits up, and of course, she farts. She's even started projectile spewing - lucky, lucky me. :-P And she cannot sleep, poor thing, until the gas has subsided.

I'm giving her gas drops, my mom and Jason have come up with a billion different ways to burp her, but we still cannot seem to help her all that much. To make matters worse, although Mom and Jason can handle her gas, I seem to be unable to. l do the same stuff they do, but to no avail. They relieve her discomfort, but I only seem to piss her off.

I'd like to kvetch some more, but now that it looks like she might finally be out, I need to get some things done. Mom's already commented that Veronica was awake too long today and therefore will not sleep well tonight. For once in regard to all the things Mom's criticized about my mothering style, I think she might be right. So wish me luck as I try to get a little shut-eye tonight, and also try to keep my child comfy - a feat I often thought I could accomplish much easier than this.

Tomorrow my mom goes back to WV. This means Jason and I will be on our own with the baby for the first time ever. And when he goes back to work on Monday, I'll be alone all day with Veronica for the first time. I know how to feed her. I know how to burp her and change her and change her diaper. I even have somewhat of a handle on how to calm her crying (usually because I know the previous things mentioned.) It doesn't matter, though; I'm still scared half to death.

Oh yeah, in case I forgot to send this to anyone: A first photo of Veronica, taken the day after she was born. If I knew HTML better, I'd just post the picture on this blog, but oh well. This link will suffice for about 90 days or such, if I remember correctly. :-)

*sigh*

I wanted my next posting in here to be all about life with Veronica - how it's changed, how it's stayed the same, how she continues to amaze us every day. And soon, that sort of thing will be posted here.

But we received a sad interruption to our new life as a family last Thursday, when I received a phone call from my parents, telling me my grandpa had passed away.

What can I say about my Grandpa Alonso? Most of my family knew him a lot better than I did, usually for the reason that they just had been around him for so many more years than I had. All I can tell you is, he was my grandpa. He loved me dearly, and I loved him too. He was always trying to make me laugh, always caring about me. He gauged milestones he had to live for around me - "I need to live to see my granddaughter graduate from high school," he said about a decade ago. He did. It then became, I need to see her graduate from college. Then, I need to see her get married, followed by, I need her to have a great-grandchild. (Not his first great-grandchild, btw, as my cousin David has an 11-year-old daughter.) Last Monday or Tuesday, he got to see a picture of Veronica, and I can't help thinking that he just couldn't set another goal anymore.

Grandpa was 87, and wasn't in good health. My mom keeps saying that it shouldn't be a surprise, then, even though he wasn't in the hospital or anything like that. She keeps saying he lived a full life. But as I told my dad, I don't care that he was 87 - it still doesn't feel like enough time. And while I'm still so happy he got to see a picture of my daughter, I will always be sad that they will never meet.

So Veronica's first road trip was to see her great-grandpa's funeral. I am very happy that both my OB/GYN and her pediatrician OK'd the trip - it's 225 miles from our front door to my mom and dad's house. I was fine, and my parents were thrilled to see her. They just adore her. My grandma just kept telling me what a beautiful baby she is, and my extended family cooed over her as well; her presence there made some people forget, just for a moment, how sad they were. And she wowed everyone when she didn't make a peep throughout the funeral mass or at the cemetary; she just slept in her car seat, stirring occasionally in the church until the choir sang.

Her car trip went well too - so far, she travels better than the cat. :-)

Veronica is growing - although she was born at 9 lb. 6 oz., she was down to 8 lb. 7 oz. by the time we were discharged from the hospital. Some weight loss is to be expected, although hers was a bit much. She's back up to 9 lb. 1 oz. now, and she's grown almost an inch in length according to my imperfect measurements - she is growing so fast!

Her little eyes are starting to focus on everything - faces, as predicted, but also the ceiling fan and the french doors leading out to our patio. She could care less so far about toys, mobiles, or anything else that supposed to hold her interest. She held her own bottle for about 30 seconds on Wednesday evening too, and seems to listen to things you say and songs you sing to her. I know all newborns probably exhibit this behavior, but naturally we're convinced she's a genius. :-)

I need to catch up on my e-mails, in this moment when I should be sleeping as my mom (who followed us home Tuesday and will be leaving tomorrow) talks to my dad on the phone and cleans our bathrooms. As soon as Veronica wakes and we do the obligatory feeding/diaper change, we're taking her to Babies R Us for some more supplies. I'm still hoping to catch a nap; Mom's been up at night, helping me with Veronica's clockwork 3:30 a.m. feeding, but I'm still carrying the brunt of the sleep deprivation as I leave Jason to slumber. (I'm hoping once I head back to work, then we can alternate who does the nighttime duties, but as of now, he's the only one going to work and therefore I'm trying to let him get as much sleep as possible.)

I should probably start pumping breastmilk too. Veronica has had serious problems breastfeeding since day one; she still will not attach to my right side, screaming and crying in frustration. Even attachment on the left side is a two-man job, as Jason needs to hold her in just the right position while I try to manipulate everything so that she can eat. I've taken to feeding her formula and whatever milk I can pump, the latter of which is inexplicably dwindling, even though it's supposed to increase in time and frequency. I feel awful that I can't just toss her on my chest like so many other women can with their children, and that she's not getting the benefits that these other children are. (I'm speaking solely on health purposes, as I don't really believe in the whole bonding/not bonding thing. Case in point: I adored my mom, thought the sun rose and set on her, when I was a child, and the deterioration of our relationship over the years is because of the people we are, not because she fed me formula as a baby.) Plus I fear the looks and such I'm going to get when I say I'm not breastfeeding - I swear, to some people, I might as well be saying that I'm feeding her rat poison. It's this whole idea that I'm lazy and/or completely unconcerned about my child if she's not on my breast a dozen times a day. I'm neither. For whatever reason, she cannot eat directly from me, nor can she solely sustain nourishment from me, and that's all there is to it.

I suppose this posting HAS become more about me and the baby than I had originally planned. And now she's starting to stir - she'll awaken shortly. For all those who I need to e-mail - apologies, you'll get a real message sometime soon. For those who wanted more baby news, more of the fun and possibly snarky stuff, it'll come eventually. As for now, I have a hungry kid waking up, and that takes first priority.

We just got home yesterday - 4 days in the hospital is normal for a cesearean. But I'm tired, so just a quick note:

Here's the stats: Veronica Hope Warren was born at 9:16 a.m. on Monday, April 28, 2003. (We arrived early so the doctor decided to start the surgery at 9 instead of 9:30 - not a problem in my book!) Everything went smoothly and wasn't as terrifying as I thought it'd be. Veronica weighed 9 lbs. 6 oz. at birth and is 21 inches long (further verifying the need for a c-section!) Her eyes are slate grey for now, and she has lots of dark brown hair that inexplicably has a bit of a wave to it. Ten fingers, ten toes on some very long feet, and of course we think she's beautiful. :-)

Now I'm not quite exhausted, and she's sleeping, but I need to go pump my breast milk again because we're having some serious problems with feeding (our biggest frustation by far, as she's sleeping a lot so we can't really gripe about that.) But we're working around that, she's getting enough to eat, and she's healthy (and strong!) as a horse, so we're very lucky that it's our only problem. Jason's Aunt Emily is here helping out, and my mom will be up next week, so we even have some much-needed support in these first few days at home.

She is a beautiful little blessing and we adore her. Nothing more to say at the moment. :-)