05/07 3 eme semaine bis/ 3rd week (2)

Semaine qui devient routine: changer les couches de Florence, lui donner le biberon (encore que Kate lui redonne le sein et a priori, ca marche), sauter sur une moto, prendre l'avion et aller se poser a Estrella pour aller faire du planeur... Non, franchement, ca pourrait etre pire!

La maman de Kate etant a la maison, j'en ai profite pour faire 6:20 de planeur lundi. Pourtant, les conditions n'etaient pas facile, avec du vent fort, et si je me suis retrouve dans le secteur sud est du terrain ce qui est inhabituel, j'y suis reste pendant des heures, ce qui rend la chose un peu rasoir.
Du coup, jeudi, lorsque je suis arrive dans le circuit de piste avec le C152, et que je me suis rendu compte que ca n'etait pas terrible non plus, j'ai decide d'aller me balader avec l'avion, dans l'est de l'Arizona, la ou il y'a des montagnes et des canyons, avec un bout de Colorado meme, ca doit etre joli. Seulement, il faisait chaud a 1000' sol, alors du coup, j'ai pris 2-3 pompes qui m'ont vite ammene au sommet de la couche d'inversion a 9500 pieds. La peinard, j'ai mis le cap qui va bien, mais je me suis vite rendu compte que si je suis bien dans un Cessna, c'est loin d'etre un Citation, et a 95 kts de croisiere, ca n'avance pas cet engin la!
Alors, j'ai casse la croute. Il etait midi, la vue etait belle, la temperature agreable, j'ai sorti le sandwich...
Une fois fini, je me suis aussi rendu compte que non franchement, ca n'avance pas, et que ca a l'air meilleur au niveau ascendance! Allez hop, de nouveau un autre demi-tour, et je suis retourne a Estrella pour faire 6 hrs de planeur, avec un plafond plus haut en fin de journee, et quelque chose comme 250 kms effectues avec tranquillite. Grosse journee, puisque j'ai aussi fait 2:30 de 152!

Je retourne au boulot pour une semaine la semaine prochaine. J'ai revise les procedures d'urgences et quelques systemes, on ne sait jamais, ca fait 2 mois que je n'ai pas fait d'Excel, et ca s'oublit vite ces avions la!

This week was the fourth week of Florence's life. What an amazing and funny thing to say...my "fourth week of life." And looking at life through the eyes of a newborn, even for an old adult such as myself life again becomes funny and amazing. Frankly, though, it always was for me. I was always in a perpetual state of awe of life. But what is so wonderful is how, when you pay close attention to a little one, little things become so....oh....enlarged. For example, when Florence is tired, and yawns and stretches and makes tired noises. Now Richard and I have to laugh when we, too, yawn and stretch, being so reminded of Florence, being so reminded of the pleasures of such very simple things.

Or like the love I have for Richard, often enjoying just watching him, often when he doesn't know I'm watching. So, too, is there great pleasure to be had in watching Florence, whether as she ponders out her bedroom window, eyes fixated on the sky above (a pilot in training...?) or whilst she sleeps in my arms, or in her crib, listening to the small breaths exhaling from her even smaller frame.

And so, too, the week was marked by Grandma, being able to eye her granddaughter, perhaps her last grandchild, enjoying talking with her, hanging out with her by her bedroom window, having chats, or attempting to calm during the storm of a crying-fest. Or, perhaps, endulging Florence in snuggle time.

And so ends a very, very nice week, the four of us enjoying the slow march of day by day, exchanging red eyes as we pass off responsibility of caretaking for our little ward, as she rests in her bed, drifting off to slumber, with thoughts of the sky above playing in her mind...as she smiles.

Good night, and Good luck

05/07 3eme semaine/ 3rd week

C'est un peu la meme repetition de la semaine derniere qui vient de se passer ces derniers jours. Tout tourne autour de Florence, bien sur, et a cet age la, c'est pas forcement tres drole, puisque ca empeche de faire ce que l'on faisait normalement, dans une vie de couple. Mais si ca, c'est l'inconvenient majeur, il faut avouer que nous ne regrettons rien, esperant de toute maniere des jours meilleurs lorsqu'elle sera un peu plus agee, et puis il est difficile de s'enerver de beaucoup devant les premiers sourirs, les premiers regards qui vous suivent lorsque vous quitter la piece, par example. Et puis bon, avouons le: Kate est meilleur dans le role de prendre soin d'un nourrisson. Apres tous, je n'ai jamais joue a la poupee et il y'a une raison.

Il aurait ete trop egoiste de laisser Kate toute seule a la maison pour aller faire du planeur, qui sont souvent des journees de 10 heures totales, puisque je fais souvent des longs vols. Il fut donc decider que j'irai faire un tour de C152 cette semaine, cela faisait deja 2 mois que je n'en avais pas fait, et je me suis amuse avec vers le centre de l'Arizona a prendre des ascendances justement, et ma foi, ce fut rigolo avec cette bicyclette! Ca donne envie d'acheter un motoplaneur, mais non decidement, c'est difficile de justifier le coup de telles machines, et on se contentera d'acheter un C172 dans quelques annees si tous va bien.

Le survol de la maison donne ceci:
1) Au centre de la photo, trouvez la maison au coin avec la piscine.
2) Compter 5 maisons suivant la rue vers le sommet de la photo, y compris cette maison du coin.
3) On habite a la cinquieme.
4) Pour etre sur d'avoir la bonne, la 6eme maison a deux voitures noires gare devant.
C'est sympa l'avion, on peut maintenant comparer ce qu'on fait les voisins ces deux dernieres annees depuis la creation de ce quartier...

La semaine prochaine, la maman de Kate passe un sejour avec nous, jusque vers la fin juin, ce qui veut dire que je suis "de repos" en fonction d'assistant de Kate. Aller au lit a la bonne heure pour dormir, de maniere a etre bien repose pour reprendre le boulot la semaine suivante. Un peu moins de corvee nettoyage maison, et puis surtout, 2 ou 3 journees de vol a voile! Bref, je devrai pouvoir me la couler douce pendant que ces dames s'occupent.
Affaire a suivre...

Hi. How are you? I am fine.
Richard and I continue to get our sea legs tending to Florence, learning her likes and dislikes and habits, hoping to gain insights into the mind of a three week old so that we may earn extra sleep- the mightiest of all prizes. In direct contradiction to what Richard wrote, this week is not the same as our little girl's hands have grown, including other parts. Richard and I work hardest of all at maintaining our sanity as we volley exhaustion and crankiness back and forth.

Richard was able to get out for a while and take our old faithful "36 Lima" for a flight above our city, during which I tried to reach him via ground radio. I got out too, being given the OK to try to drive again by my doctor, during which I went grocery shopping. However I didn't enjoy my time off from caretaking as, frankly, I missed my family. So I shopped quickly so as to return home as soon as possible, none too smart as my incision hurt a bit after. Ah well.

Richard will be going back to work for a week after which he will come home for more weeks of vacation. I am heartily grateful that he has been home because this time would have been a nightmare without his help, especially considering the surgery. I hate to see him go back to work, though. He is my biggest asset and my best friend.

All for now. Time to put our little Franco-American to bed. Goodnight, Florence.

05/07 2eme semaine/ 2nd week

Cette semaine encore, il s'agit de Florence bien sur. Vous pouvez voir une petite video sans son en cliquant sur l'image de dessus.

Il faut apprendre son emploi du temps, le conjuguer avec le notre, a travers les frustrations, les difficultes, le manque de sommeil, etc... C'est un peu galere. Mais parce que nous commencons (un peu) a voir la fin du tunnel, il fut decider que j'irai faire du planeur hier samedi. Helas, pas de cumulus, alors qu'il y'en a eu toute la semaine, mais quand meme un vol de 6:30, ce qui permet de se changer les idees. Comme d'habitude, je suis le dernier a me poser sur le terrain pour la journee, un peu avant le soleil couchant. Helas, il n'en est pas de meme pour Kate, coince a la maison, puiqu'elle ne peut toujours pas conduire apres son operation. Enfin on fait avec.

Hello everyone!

Richard and I are settling into parenthood, spending our days and nights getting to know the patterns of our daughter. She never fails to amaze, confuse, or entertain. We are lucky in that she already seems to prefer a long night's rest allowing us to play catch up on at least some portion of our lost sleep. Being new parents, we have already seen Florence's doctor four to five times in the last two weeks for a variety of standards check-ups and new parents panic attacks. We are looking forward to the weeks and months ahead where we can watch her personality blossom, and get to know exactly who this little girl is. We are fast enjoying the severe lack of sleep, which could be used as a way to stress test astronauts like in the movie "The Right Stuff". As a bonus to the non stop action, we are both losing weight rapidly, having no time to eat. But we still love her.

As the commercial goes... One delivery at hospital: $150. Stollers: $120. diapers: $ 50. Food we bought and have no time to eat:$75. Trips to mental health doctor to overcome severe sleep deprivation:$150/hr. Florence Depinay: PRICELESS.

05/07 1ere semaine/ 1st week

Le 1er mai 2007, Florence Depinay est nee a 11:00 AM local (20h00 heure Francaise)
Empty weight: 8.8 Lbs / poids a vide: 4Kgs
Wingspan: 21 Inches / Envergure: 53 Cms

Il etait prevu de faire une cesarienne, vu que le dernier ultrason nous montrait un bebe relativement costaud. L'operation s'est bien passee, routine dans cet hopital qui voit quelque chose comme 500 naissances par mois. 5 minutes de preparation ou j'ai attendu dans le couloir, puis on m'a appelle et je suis reste avec Kate derriere un petit rideau cachant l'operation, et ca aussi ca a dure 5 minutes. Impressionnant de rapidite!

A l'heure ou j'ecris ces lignes, la fatigue est la. Nous ne sommes restes que trois jours a l'hopital, car c'etait difficile de dormir ou de s'occuper du bebe, etant continuellement deranger par des infirmieres pour verifier la pression arterielle de la maman, la nourrir, faire ceci, faire cela...

La tentative de donner le sein a echouer. Normalement, le lait maternel vient le deuxieme jour, mais lors d'une cesarienne, l'hormone declenchant ce processus n'est venue que le quatrieme jour, dans le cas de Kate. Trop tard pour Florence, qui a meme fini par etre un peu deshydrater, lorsque nous n'arrivions pas a lui donner assez de lait.
Nous n'avons pas abandonner cependant, car nous savons combien il est important de nourrir un bebe avec ce lait maternel, compare par les laits maternises. Du coup, nous avons achetes une pompe electrique, c'est pas forcement romantique ou attrayant, mais ca marche du tonnerre, et c'est un grand soulagement, compare avec le debut de la semaine, avec notre mauvaise experience a l'hopital.

Maintenant, on s'organise, il faut nourrir Florence toutes les 2 hrs, pomper du lait toutes les 4-5 heures, et tous ca avec une maman qui doit se reposer apres une operation chirurgicale. J'essaye d'aider le mieux que je peux, mais pour l'instand, je suis trop exciter pour dormir, etant attentif au moindre froncement de sourcils, changement de respiration, guettant la moindre gene.

En bref, 10 minutes d'enfer ou on se demande ce qu'on fout la, a 2:30 du matin, a rechauffer un biberon tout en s'endormant debout, suivit de 10 mns de plaisir, a regarder un cherubin ouvrir les yeux et qui vous fond le coeur.

C'est extraordinaire, ca donne des larmes aux yeux, et c'est superbe.

To sleep, perchance to dream...

Above is a picture of our daughter, born this past Tuesday, May 1, in this year 2007. All along the course of the pregnancy we were repeatedly gifted with a series of mundane doctor visits, a reflection of our textbook pregnancy. All was well and we were headed toward a textbook delivery approximately the 5th of May. However, in the last week our doctor sprung news that he wanted to take Florence via C-Section and he wanted to take her now. The apparent reason was born of a last minute ultrasound showing that our daughter may be 8.5 pounds, with a +/- of a pound. Our doctor, erring on the side of caution born of 15 years experience, decided we should deliver her via C-Section right away as, should she be so large, coupled with my anatomical structure, we ran the risk of shoulder dystocia, what is called the one condition of child birth that sends most doctors into sweats of panic. And in large babies, the rate of this condition jumps to 25%, with possible complications being cerebral palsy, various other palsies causing partial paralysis of the face, shoulder/arm, and possible entire side of her body. Also, she could suffer hypoxia, resultant brain damage and even death. Of course, these were worst case scenarios, but with the risk being so high (25%) it was a chance neither of us would consider. After all, why would one work so hard to create a healthy child for nine months only to take chances on her health which could occur in her first moments of life, only to ruin the rest of her life. So, we said "yes" to the C-Section.

Since the pregnancy was textbook up to that point, I had done no research on a C-Section and so did not know what to expect. I had time to do some research prior to the event and, frankly, was scared by what I read. To add to our stress we also had to change hospitals at the last second as our doctor stopped working at our original choice. Also, as we planned to breastfeed, it seemed that this idea, too, was destined to go the way of the wind. But none of those things mattered, only that our daughter was delivered safe and sound. Be damned the consequences, full speed ahead!

And so we went in on the morning of 5/1/07. Both of us were very nervous. It did nothing to allay Richard's fears of our pending future that I had to turn in an Advanced Directive with directions on how I would be willing to die. We arrived early at this new hospital, something I wanted to do to give my nerves time to adjust to the fast moving changes of late. We were placed in a room and starting procedures were started, an IV, baby monitoring, amd a disinfecting shower. We were then told that our surgery would be postponed awhile as a woman in natural labor was needing to now have a C-Section. So we relaxed a bit with this extra breathing room. However, none too late our nurse came back and announced "it's time."

Richard donned a protective gown so he could follow me into the operation and stand guard. And I was removed into the operating room to start procedures. Richard had to wait outside and would not, as it turned out, be allowed in until I was "pretty" meaning that all the gross, ugly stuff was already done to me for prep and when he walked in he would only see me laying down, wrapped in clean, white operative protective gowns and drapes.

For me, I was quite nervous. I was to receive an injection in my back called a Spinal, which, in the manner in which our anesthesiologist did it, would numb pain from my chest down. I am not a fan of needles and especially needles in my back as I had, in my past, had both severe spinal meningitis and also a car accident, both of which required multiple needle probes along my spine while fully awake, measures which were excruiciating.

The doctor did the injection and I was amazed at how soon I lost use of my limbs. Within seconds I could not move my legs and within subsequent seconds I lost movement up my body, just below my neck. The doctor warned me that I would feel as if I was suffocating, as this type of injection shuts off the lungs communication with the brain, resulting in the brain sending a 911 signal that you are not breathing. This can cause panic (!) and he warned me as a precautionary so I could practice "mind over matter" to get through the fear.

Unfortunately, I have severe reactions to narcotics and as a result began to immediately dry vomit (anyone want a C-Section at this point?). It is a strange feeling to heave, especially when you have no voluntary control over either your stomach or chest. My doctor, however, was right on top of this, as we discussed this issue right before the operation, and he began pumping anti-nausea into my IV to stop the reaction. Apparently, morphine and I will not be becoming best friends anytime soon, as the doctor had to continuously pump anti-nausea at this once every 30 seconds to get my reaction under control so they could start. But, regardless, thank God he did because he took care of the problem once and for all. I am eternally grateful. Nothing is worse that being in such a volunerable state and feeling you are not being attended to.

After that was under control they prepped, spreading my limbs this way and that, like a chicken being gutted and stuffed. Then drapes were placed.. To this point, Richard was not in the room and I feared they would forget about him. But a minute later he appeared and stayed at my side. The operation then began. Per Richard, it lasted 5 minutes. I could barely turn my head due to the block but could see him out of the corner of my eyes. I felt bad for him because I could see in his eyes his concern. It did him no good when I grunted as a result of my body being manipulated.

I became very startled when the numbing sensation began to climb upward toward my head, my throat feeling constricted. But, again, the doctor was immediately responsive and asked me what was wrong and, as a result of my response, made another medication correction.

The "rooting reflex"... It is a strange, and hopefully rare, feeling when a person is rooting around your gut. The incision for the operation was just above my private region and to deliver Florence the doctor had to reach all the way up just below my sternum to grab her out, and then the placenta. It was not a pleasant feeling, as he constricted the lungs in the process. Poor Richard's face, when I again grunted as the doctor made his final pull to deliver Florence.

I could hear Florence cry but not see her due to the numbing and placement of the drapes. I did get to a spy a head of hair, however, and noted that I was delivered in the exact same way. Florence was then moved to be examined while the doctor finished his work, taking out the placenta and doing whatever he must do to finish the operation.

Richard left my side briefly to see Florence and wish her Happy Birthday. At this point I hated the operation, as I lay helpless, unable to move, hearing my daughter cry and being unable to respond or move by her side. A nurse finally brought her to my face so I could kiss her briefly and, instantly, she was gone again. I was then moved to post-op. Richard followed the baby to examination.

Hours later, I finally got to see Florence. And in doing so, before me, lay my daughter, the culmination of a 40 year old dream....

The operation was horrific. The afterward a breeze. How so? At that point I had to thank a 15 year old car accident which required repeated injections along my spine while awake, the sum total of which was potentially in the thousands of injections. The after effect of the C-Section, while not pleasant, could not equal the pain involved in one of those injection sessions I had to overcome my car accident. So, fate being the strange creature that it is, and God working in his mysterious way, I came to be grateful for that accident, even though it caused me to quit college and give up on a career which required one be fuly physically functional. Now, it made sense and had purpose. Now, 15 years later, holding my daughter, I would not trade having that accident, because the damage it did was now my delivery from evil.

I had no intention of losing more time with my daughter due to this operation so Richard and I immediately had Florence stay with us, taking over her care from that moment forward. I refused for her to stay in the nursery. I had not waited 40 years to have this child only to have her removed from me. I didn't care about the operation, my recovery, my anything. This was my child and I would be her caretaker.

We had lots of trouble in this new hospital. Our nurse assigned to care for Florence was against breastfeeding, leaving us alone to figure it out. It didn't work, "winging it," nearly starting our daughter on the road to dehydration. Why? The C-Section had taken it's toll on both me and Florence, due to our long separation after the operation, the medications in me making me paralyzed for hours after the birth, etc., making us both out of sync to successfully breastfeed. On the first day, however, with our determination we were successful with our feedings. All was well! She latched on with no fuss and ate well. How lucky! However, everytime I would establish a sucessful breathfeeding session staff would insist I must stop to let them check my vitals, etc. or they would come to check Florence, tossing her around to and fro, making her cry horribly, then handing her back to me in this state.

It would take sometimes hours to get her to calm down and back to breastfeeding, only to have staff again interrupt. This happened continuously at the hospital to the point where Florence was so hungry, frustrated and anxious that she stopped eating. As I was panicked at how little food she was getting, I would not sleep each day, attempting repeatedly to get her to eat. Hours would drag by before I could get her to feed again, only again for staff to repeat this problem, again and again and again.

I told staff that I had no intention of stopping feeding sessions, that my daughter had not eaten in hours, that her health was more important than having my blood pressure at some specific time. One nurse, upon my telling her this, would huff and puff and insist that if I didn't cooperate then I wouldn't get discharged.

The result was repeated failures causing Florence to spend a large majority of her first few days in constant screaming, hunger and panic. This led us to be in a state of constant fear for her health. We had a lot of difficulty getting help in the hospital, with Florence's nurse being entirely unresponsive to our requests for help and second hand help being offered from everyone, wherein each person's directions were in direct opposition to the next person's directions. We were in a state of no sleep, constant fear, and total helplessness. Even Florence's doctor assigned during our stay kept contradicting himself at each visit. Worse yet, he showed little interest in our problem getting her fed.

Due to these problems, I insisted we go home ASAP. Richard was worried about my bleeding so we stayed until the next morning. Again, during that long last night, we fought to feed her, again only for staff to interrupt. Richard and I kept fighting for help. Florence's nurse only kept responding that we wouldn't have trouble if we'd just agree to formula feed. We fired Florence's nurse that day in the hospital and insisted we go home right away. We raised a stink such that five separate hospital big wigs came to apologize for our treatment. Regardless, I didn't care about their hospital, their nurse, or their problems. All I cared about was my daughter and to care for her we needed to go home.

So we arrived home and in the calmer atmosphere she responded. However, the damage was done for breastfeeding wherein our true pediatrician, who were went to see immediately, said after all these problems with her feeding sessions being interrupted, Florence was frustrated with the process and essentially gave up. So, in order to get her on the road to health we began feeding her breastmilk via a bottle and this is how we care for her now. And she is doing just beautifully.

Richard has continued to shine as the greatest thing in my life, equaled only by my daughter. He has been supportive, consoling, determined, and all the things I needed to get us all through this hard time. And now being home, he continues to shine, trying so hard to learn to care for Florence while taking care of me so I can recover.

So while the experience at this hospital was well below grade, it gave me a chance to see again what a diamond my Richard is and also it gave me the porthole through which I was delivered my one and only little girl, our most precious posession. And she was well worth every horrible moment, an adventure we'd gladly redo if such a prize await us.

Thank you, my husband, for making all my dreams come true. And thank you Florence, for allowing us to be your parents and for giving us such a worthwhile cause for the remainder of our lives.

"To endure is greater than to dare; to tire out hostile fortune; to be daunted by no difficulty; to keep heart when all have lost it; to go through intrigue spotless; and to forgo even ambition when the end is gained--who can say this is not greatness . . . " William Shakespeare.