The Rebirth

If you are even borderline obsessive compulsive, and are one of those people that wants everything in life to be measurable, then good luck with breastfeeding! The problem is, there's no way of knowing exactly how much food your child is (or isn't) getting at each feeding. On the other hand, when feeding with a bottle, you can chart your baby's feeding habits just like you would his height and weight, and (for example) diligently pour 1.375 ounces of formula into the bottle in order to achieve the textbook 16 ounces for the day.

Well, at 3:58pm last Thursday, the harshness of this reality hit me like a freight train when I learned that Alex would have to be readmitted to the hospital for what was essentially dehydration. No one expects to take their baby back to the hospital just 2 days after taking him home; and I am now of the firm belief that no one should have to suffer through the visuals of their 4-day old child connected to an I.V. tube, presumably clinging to his life with barely developed fingernails.

I'm pretty sure that that was my last visualization before the hyperventilation kicked in and the couch in the doctor's office broke my fall. As first time parents not knowing what to expect, V and I had very little chance of seeing this one coming. For the two days that we were home from the delivery, Alex's crying had been incessant and uncontrollable. And with all of our focus on trying to console him (with almost zero success), his gradual but steady weight loss slipped right under the radar. Simply put, even before the hospitalization, the level of defeat and frustration that we'd suffered left us physically exhausted, mentally drained, and spiritually humbled. We had no clue what was wrong with our child and that, my friend, has got to be the worse feeling on the planet.

As it turns out, he was just constantly and seriously hungry.



And so once I regained my composure and peeled myself off of the doctor's couch (you didn't think I was joking, did you?) Alex's pediatrician whisked us away to the emergency room to get checked in. When we left the house that morning, there was no way in the world that we could've guessed that we wouldn't be returning until the following week. And for those 4 days (Thursday thru Monday) V and I were cut off from the outside world as we did everything we could to help Alex battle his way back to his birth weight. Pumping, feeding, testing, changing, and consoling around the clock became such a full time job for both of us that by Monday, we were both sleep deprived and emotionally fragile beyond belief.



As for the solution: Between pumping every 2 hours for 4 days, and work with a "lactation consultant" we were able to get V's milk supply exactly where it needed to be by the week's end. But even more importantly, we were also able to identify that Alex had a restrictive frenulum (the string-like membrane under your tongue that holds your tongue down when you poke it out)... which was causing him to latch to the breast improperly. Basically, in layman's terms, the little booger was "tongue-tied". And so he also had a 10-second "surgery" to correct that, and can now stick his tongue out with the best of 'em.

In the end, we learned more about ourselves as parents (and as a couple) in those 4 days than I think we will in the next 4 months. Today was our first return visit to our phenomenal pediatrician in order to see the progress of Alex's recovery. And with that I'm proud to say that our bundle of joy went from dehydrated to downright chubby, weighing in just 4 ounces shy of 9 pounds... almost 2 pounds heavier than the low that he hit exactly a week ago today.

While it was the scariest thing that either of us had ever been through, we are exceedingly thankful that God got us through it triumphantly; and are thankful that now 3 days later it is nothing more than another story to blog about. And so the story ends with the 3 of us doing great and ready to start over. Driving home from the hospital the second time was very surreal, as we felt like we had been put through the fire and given a second chance at life. We look at him so differently now, it's amazing.

Oh! I almost forgot to mention... as a result of this entire ordeal, Justin Alexander (version 2.0) will no longer be affectionately known as "Alex"... but instead will now try to give life a shot as "Justin". Evidently "Alex" wasn't working out too well for him, and so the name change will hopefully be symbolic of a change in direction as we all pray that the worse is most certainly now behind us.

For the few mintues of sleep that we did get,
V and I had to alternate between a rocking
chair and a little cot built into the window sill.


Grandpa checks out our prized possession


It was only because of grandma and her willingness to
endure a sleepless night and a migraine that V and I
made it through those first two days of nonstop
crying before hospitalization.

"We're going home!!!!!"
Justin (version 2.0) is now simply a joy to our lives
and has left his screaming days behind him.