I haven't posted in a while. I've been busy:
My pregnancy with Jude was somewhat easier than most of the others, though still no piece of cake. But, I am told that even with easy pregnancies (I wouldn't know anything about those, though...), those last weeks are rough. Eleven days before my due date, I woke up in the wee hours of the morning having contractions. Painful enough to keep me from sleeping, but not labor. I did my best to rest and sleep when I could. The next day, I asked my friend Sara to come over and help me clean my house because I thought I might be having the babe soon. She did. And then, her husband cooked us dinner. They're awesome friends like that. The contractions started in earnest during dinner. So, we went home and called my midwife (the same one as last time - Dianne). She came over to check me and said I wasn't ready, but to call her if the contractions got harder or closer together. I cried. We put the kids to bed and I went to bed, but the contractions kept coming. I called Dianne back and she came over again. This time, I was dilated to a five. I called my doula and dear friend, Amie. Dianne called her three assistants. I had lots of support. Doug was awesome. Everyone was awesome. This time, I didn't labor in a tub. I can't decide which I liked better. All I know is that I liked the fact that Jude didn't kick against the contractions like Sophie did. Holy moly. It hurts (an obvious understatement, I know), but there is a certain euphoria that comes along with giving birth. In my experience. Anyway, labor lasted about four-ish hours and then I came into the kitchen and sat on a birthing stool and gave birth to sweet baby Jude. He was 7 lbs and 2 oz. And darling. Oh, how I love that boy!
Jude wasn't a great nurser, but I figured if he wasn't getting enough, he would let me know. But, at 6 weeks old, he didn't seem to be gaining weight. He still wasn't holding his head up. I thought I should call my doctor. And I did. My mother in law mentioned that we should maybe have him tested for Down Syndrome. I was angry. Yes, his eyes were a little slanty, but that doesn't mean anything. I had this nagging feeling, though, that I should do some research. The toes. The space between the first and second toe in some people with Down Syndrome. Jude has that space. And hypotonia (low muscle tone). I was sick. How could something be "wrong" with my perfect baby? We went to the doctor. He thought that it could possibly be Down Syndrome, but he had so few physical characteristics that he wasn't sure. He wasn't very concerned about it, though. He was concerned that at six weeks, Jude weighed 7 lbs and 2 oz. The same as the day he was born. He could also hear a "prominent murmur" in Jude's heart. He told us he would call the pediatric cardiologists and arrange a referral. He sent us home. The next morning, they called us and said that the pediatric cardiologist suggested that we take him immediately to the ER at the children's hospital. My heart pounding, I called Doug. He rushed home and picked us up. The hour drive took an eternity.
They admitted us to the hospital and took many tests. Indeed, Jude has a moderate
VSD. It is not life threatening and sometimes heals itself, so they will just keep an eye on it. And hypotonia, which, we discovered, was affecting his mouth muscles, not allowing him to suck hard enough to get much milk. I felt guilt like I cannot describe. How could I not know? They wanted to keep us at the hospital until he could gain weight. Finally, they called a genetic consult. More tests. More waiting. More working with speech therapists who specialize in sucking (who knew?) and lactation consultants. They told me I couldn't nurse him anymore. I had to pump and give him a bottle. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I was so helpless and the only thing I could do for him, they were now telling me I couldn't. I know what your logical mind is saying. Moms with babies in the hospital for five days do not have logical minds, so give me some slack, OK?
So, for five days we waited. He started gaining weight. He started getting a little stronger. Finally, they said we could go home. Just before we left, the geneticist came to tell us that, indeed, the test was positive for Trisomy 21, or Down Syndrome.
My aunt, uncle, and cousin (who has Down Syndrome) came to visit us in the hospital. My uncle said to me, "Not everyone is lucky enough to have an angel living in their home." It is true.
Now, at ten weeks old, Jude is doing much better. He continues to gain weight and get stronger. I am now able to nurse him for about half of his feedings. He is a joy beyond words. I am humbled and honored to have such a special spirit in my home. Welcome, Jude!
