Still talking food

Okay, so I intended for a lot of this to be about food, as well as being a mom and having a family. Even more than pregnancy, breastfeeding is about eating for two. You are 'supposed' to eat 2,700 calories to support it, but I'm pretty sure that I don't come close to that on most days. I thought it would be no problem, but I still try to eat the 'right' calories (including at least one cookie per day) and really, eating at all can be an issue.

As you know now, poor little Zeke had to be in the NICU the first two days of his life, which lead to issues with my milk coming in and his weight loss. At our 1 week doctor appointment, I was threatened that he would be put in the hospital if we didn't get it up. We pumped him full of high calorie formula and all the breast milk I could produce, and viola! he gained 8 oz overnight. Yes, half a pound and all of the docs were amazed. Anyway, the pediatrician that we saw the next day (to confirm that he had gained weight) perscribed some natural ways to help with my milk production: oatmeal for breakfast, barley soup for lunch, mother's milk tea and Guinness. I was so happy to drink a Guinness per day on doctor's orders. I do love oatmeal, and took this as an opportunity to get creative with it. So, here is my breakfast, most days. It's delicious and nutricious. Plus, at our 2 week appointment, Zeke had grown and inch and a half and gained one pound and 3 ounces since the weigh in appointment (that's a whopping 27 ounces since his one week appointment).

Mama's oatmeal:

Bring 1 cup water and 1 T half and half to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and add a heaping 1/2 cup oats (quick or regular, your call), about 20 raisins or more to taste and 1 t vanilla. Stir until cooked, about 2-6 minutes. Pour into a bowl and sprinkle with 1 t brown sugar (if you need the extra calories, of course). Yum.

And a cute Isaiah shot, b/c that's really why you're reading...

Early bonding worked!

So, all of those attempts for Isaiah and Ben to bond when Isaiah was still in utero worked judging by how excited Ben was when they did actually meet a week ago. It was hilarious, and we can't wait for play dates!

Little Man

Our little guy has arrived. It has taken me two weeks to post because, well, the first two weeks are very eventful. We are all doing well, after a less than ideal start where Isaiah arrived by emergency c-section because of an infection and both he and I were on 48 hours of antibiotics (translation--he was in the NICU and we were apart) which made the beginning incredibly stressful and tearful, but now we are home and all doing well. My first instinct the day we found out we were pregnant was that it was a boy, and I was so happy to find out my instincts were
correct!

Isaiah Philip Opot born May 9, 2009, at 8:55 p.m. 8 lb 5 oz. We love him so much and are so glad he is here!!

He's the best

Okay, so I generally hate when people gush about how amAAAAAzing their husbands are. Especially at our age (or younger) because I think it's silly. Do it when you're married for like 20 years. Okay, okay, it's more of a personality thing, and I guess I've never been a mushy type, but hearing other people do it kind of makes me cringe. A little like PDA. Of course we all think we are married to the greatest men ever, because why would you have married him, right? But, I must say, Joab has been awesome. He would probably be embarrassed that I'm even saying this. Luckily he pays no attention to the fact that I blog. I know much of it is his own excitement about being a dad, but it has been such a good thing for me while surviving the last month of pregnancy.
I have done mental nesting, he has done the physical part. We moved a month ago and he did it ALL. He packed and cleaned the old place, unpacked and cleaned the new place with just minor direction and consultation from me. Plus, he has put everything together in the baby's room, washed all the baby clothes, towels, blankies and made it a real bedroom. All while I direct from the couch. It's not like I'm on bedrest and I can't. It's just that I don't want to, physically because I have huge meat hunk feet and it hurts EVERYWHERE to stand for more than about 15 minutes. So, instead, I walk around and complain about what I wish was done, and then he does it. I would hate me if I was him, but he doesn't seem to hate me at all. Maybe it's because I still make him dinner. Most nights.