We spent 3 days in the hospital, and because she was earlier, there were lots of tests. They poked her feet so many times to check her blood sugar levels. Apparently when they are early, they have trouble with that. I also had a very hard time learning to breastfeed and she had a hard time learning to latch on. There was a lot of visits with the lactation nurse, and other nurses trying to help us figure it all out. Brian had to feed her with a little cup at one point and she lapped it up like a kitten. Then we tried the little tubed attached to a bottle of formula then attached to the breast. That worked ok as long as we could get her latched on. I wanted to give up and just use a bottle because it was so sad to hear my baby cry and not be able to sooth her, but Brian was so supportive and kept encouraging me to keep at it. We just had to wait until my milk came in and then all would be fine, that's what I kept telling myself.
She was so sweet, and perfect. She hardly every cried, unless she was hungry. I relished every minute with her. I don't think I slept the first 2 days because I had so much adrenaline running through my body and I just wanted to hold her every second of the night and day.
Reluctantly, it was time to go home. I was nervous about being in pain from the c-section, nervous because my milk still hadn't come in, and nervous to be at home without doctors and nurses there to help me. I had this tiny little life now, and it was up to us from here on out. She looked so tiny in her car seat, and from day one, she didn't like being strapped down in it.
It was 2 days until our first check up with Olivia's pediatrician, Dr. Allyson Van Steenburgen. I had been contacted by her associates on previous days via phone calls, but with all the medications I was on for pain, I don't quite remember what was told to me. When we got there, the doctor was very angry. She said Oliva was badly jaundiced, and dehydrated. She was down to 6lbs 4oz. She scolded me for not supplementing her feedings, like I was told. (One of the things I didn't remember. I thought when my milk came in, we didn't have to do that anymore. My milk had come in on Sunday, so we stopped. This apt was on Monday.) She told us her levels were really high and we would have to go to the hospital to have blood taken. More pokes in her feet. I was a wreck. Here I had put my little one in jeopardy because I didn't do what I was told. Not to mention all the hormones running through me. All I could do was cry. I think I cried for 3 days straight. I was so afraid, she was going to die, or have some problem and it would all be my fault. She did get her blood tested and it came back at 18 which was borderline dangerous. At 20 they start having brain damage and other problems. She was put in a bilibed, thankfully at home, for 24 hours. This was so traumatic for me. Because the light could damage the eyes, we had to put a mask over her eyes. She immediately went into a crying fit. All I could think was that she was scared and felt abandoned. How on earth was I supposed to leave her in that box, all alone and only take her out to feed her? I knew she had to do it to get better, but I felt hopeless. It was a very long 24 hours. We had to go back to the hospital for more blood tests, and it had gone down. This time it was at 15. No more light, but we had to continue getting blood work daily to make sure the biliruben was going down. Eventually it did, and she would be ok. That following week, I fed her every hour in a half whether she wanted to eat or not. The more she ate, the more she pooped, and the more she pooped, the faster the biliruben would leave her body. I was not going to let the doctor down. She finally gained back some weight. The doctor was well pleased, and so was I.
You can see that she was still very yellow (or tan looking) but she was going to be alright. We had made it through this difficult time.
This is the very first outfit she wore, and it was a gift from her aunt Sarah Steed. It was so tiny, and yet still big on her.
