Nanny’s first day and endless tears

Our nanny arrived ten minutes early this morning for her first day of work. It was also our baby’s first day being in a new routine and not taking a nap immediately after her first morning feed. I wasn’t sure how the day would go, but I had a feeling it would include some fussiness and crying. Our baby has occasionally gotten upset when being held with strangers as of late, and unfortunately, this morning was no different. In fact, it was even worse: as soon as our nanny picked her up, she immediately started crying and screaming nonstop. Before she had arrived, our baby was completely fine, smiling and babbling and happy. I was wondering how long it would last. Well, other than her nap time, all morning she screamed and cried. She even screamed and cried through her 10am feed and didn’t even finish the bottle. That’s fresh breast milk I pump that morning; she ALWAYS finishes that bottle. I was so devastated and struggled to concentrate on work in the morning. Being in the next room attempting to work while your baby daughter is screaming bloody murder in the next room is…. pretty futile and miserable. I lasted maybe 30-40 minutes before I caved in and got out of the second bedroom to hold and comfort her. I eventually had to go outside to get some air, and our handyman friend ran into me and comforted me while I cried outside, feeling a lot of mom guilt and wondering when the hell this was going to get easier. I normally don’t get too phased hearing the sound of my baby cry, but hearing the wailing and screaming nonstop was driving me crazy and making me wonder if having a nanny was a good idea after all. I mean, don’t I want to be with my baby during the day? It doesn’t seem to matter what choice you make; there’s guilt all around when you’re a mom.

I told a colleague this during a call this morning. I was trying to focus on what he was sharing with me, but I also told him that in the next room was my screaming 21-week old baby, struggling to get along with the new nanny. He sent me an email later telling me that he really felt for me: when his now toddler went to daycare the very first day, he said it was likely the hardest day of his and his wife’s lives. For the first two weeks, it was a huge struggle and pain to get ready in the morning, get out the door, and do drop off. Pickups were miserable because his son was angry at them both for leaving him with strangers. But after two weeks, the kid adjusted, and now he loves his teachers and friends and looks forward to daycare. He told me to take it a day at a time, and that we’d all get used to this new normal, including my daughter.

These are the emotional ups and downs of having a child in real time, and it really, really sucks.

Full milk supply

A full milk supply for a breastfeeding mother is considered somewhere between 600 to 1200 mL per 24-hour period. As you would probably think looking at this, that is a huge range. On average though, based on what I have read, it actually should be at least 720 mL per day once your baby is between 1 to 6 months of age. Over 1000 mL per day is considered a bit of an over supply. But alas, every baby is different and has a different appetite level. I was taking a look at my last seven day average of breastmilk output, and I realized that I was averaging 744 ml, or almost 25 ounces. There were days when I made over 25 ounces, and then there were the days when I made just over 24 ounces. And even though I still am not making 100% of what my baby needs, I still couldn’t really believe it when I looked at these numbers. 

Once upon a time, within my baby’s first month of life, I struggled to produce even 1-1.5 ounces per pump session. I had a late start to pumping. I had no idea then that a weak suck was preventing my baby from effectively removing milk from my breasts. She was on my boobs all the time that first week, yet I had no clue that she wasn’t eating enough. I only pumped a handful of times in her first week of life… Because I was naïve and ignorant. I thought to myself, I don’t need to pump that much. She’s on my breasts on all the time. She had a good latch according to what the lactation consultant at the hospital said. And the breast-feeding course I took plus all the breastfeeding guides I read said that the latch was the most important thing, so there was no way anything could be wrong, right? So I didn’t really pump much until after she was one week old – that’s when I started pumping 3 times a day… which was inadequate if you read any exclusive pumping guide. I didn’t pump six times a day until she was two weeks old. And I didn’t pump seven times a day until she was over four weeks old. I didn’t use the right flange size until she was five weeks old. I didn’t even start pumping for 30 minutes until she was four weeks old. I didn’t learn my pump settings and how to effectively get the most milk out until about six weeks. I had a lot to learn and teach myself, through my own experience, trial and error, the Facebook pumping mama‘s group, and the exclusive pumping website. 

When I was about four weeks postpartum, I seriously considered giving up altogether. I felt like I was a failure. I wasn’t producing enough for my baby to eat, and I felt like I was spending all my time with a stupid breast pump instead of bonding with my baby. I was so angry at the world, at myself, at the crappy lactation consultants I met with in person at the hospital and at the pediatrician’s office. The pediatrician of all people told us our baby had a weak suck that would be inefficient at removing milk from my breasts, not either of the LCs we saw in person. It was such a simple test: to just stick your finger in her mouth when she was hungry to see how hard she sucked, and neither LC did this! I was angry that I missed the window of the first two weeks of my baby’s life to really establish a good milk supply by consistently removing milk from my breasts. If you read any breast-feeding support group, every single person emphasizes that the first two weeks are critical in terms of building your milk supply. You either need to be nursing effectively every 2 to 3 hours or pumping every 2 to 3 hours for the first two weeks, otherwise it will be just that much more challenging to get a full milk supply. Well, I didn’t know that then. I was so bitter and beyond upset. But I was determined not to give up. I had to give all of my new learnings a chance, plus the $60 package of flanges that I just purchased. And, I read that most struggling breast-feeding moms, whether they are nursing or pumping, give up at the six week mark. And there was no way in hell that I was giving up that soon. I ate oatmeal every single day from the morning after we returned from the hospital. I still eat it every single day. I drink an insane amount of water every single day to stay hydrated. I power pumped for over two months every single day to get my supply up (“that is such shit,” said an Australian friend who had exclusively breastfed/nursed both of her babies and only ever had to pump one breast occasionally). Power pumping is likely the only thing that really worked, which makes sense. Because again, milk removal builds milk supply. Nothing else.

Now, when I wake up and do my first morning pump, I produce 8 to 9 ounces; my Spectra bottles are nearly full, which I always dreamt of seeing but never thought was possible at 4 weeks postpartum. And every subsequent pump, I usually get between 3 to 5 ounces. On average now, I am feeding my baby over 80% of her total daily needs. That means that the majority of her diet is breastmilk. I would love to tell that stupid lactation consultant at the doctor’s office that I don’t have low supply like she said. Look at my output now, bitches! I needed to have more milk removed from my breast back then. Because the key to milk supply is milk removal, not the useless supplements that she told me to take. And no, I am not the problem. I never was. My problem was that I didn’t have the right support. I am 21 weeks postpartum now and somehow, against everything that I read, my supply is still slowly creeping up. Most people told me that my supply would regulate at around 12 weeks, which is considered general knowledge. Some people have supplies that continue to increase, but that is rarer than the supplies that decrease or stay the same at 12 weeks and beyond. And also against what I thought would happen, after dropping pump sessions, my supply actually continued to creep up. When I dropped my seventh pump, I was producing about 20 ounces per day, But I told myself I had to start reducing pumps in order to get my sanity back. Twenty ounces per day with seven pumps became 22 ounces per day with six pumps, which then became 24 to 25 ounces with five pumps a day and no overnight pumping. 

I am so happy that I kept going and did not give up. Even though I am still not giving my baby 100% of her needs, I am grateful to my body for what it has been able to do, to go against the odds with the late start for exclusive pumping and continue to produce more and more milk to feed my baby. And when I look at the growth over time in terms of my output since January, I feel really proud. The numbers graphed out look amazing. If you told me in January that by May, I would be producing 25 ounces of breast milk per day, I would have told you that you were way too optimistic. But here we are. I am still hopeful that I will produce beyond 25 ounces regularly, but we shall wait and see.

Pumping has been hard as hell. This is not how I imagined primarily feeding my baby, but here we are. Nursing did not work out, but this is the next best thing for her and for me. Pumping is likely one of the most difficult things that I’ve ever had to do, but even in the hardest and most emotional times, I have never regretted doing this for my baby. In some way, I look at pumping as the way that I have mourned not being able to exclusively nurse her.  But I also look at it as yet another sacrifice that a mother makes for her child. This time will soon come to an end, and as it starts winding down, I can already see myself getting sad and emotional to think that my breast-feeding journey with her will be ending. But that just means the start of the next era of our life together.

First Mother’s Day gift

Yesterday, we received an unexpected package in the mail. It was from Chris’s friend, who sent me an early Mother’s Day gift. It was a package of assorted specialty teas, and her message wished me a happy first Mother’s Day. It was very sweet and thoughtful, completely out of nowhere, especially since I wasn’t actively thinking about Mother’s Day at all.

I generally think Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are bullshit holidays. They are “holidays” on the calendar to remind everyone to love and respect and appreciate their parents when most of the other days of the year, they genuinely do not care and take these people in their lives for granted. You know what would be even better than having a Mother’s Day holiday (which is on a Sunday, and as if anyone would actually get the day off if they worked on a Sunday): actually having nationally mandated family leave, universal healthcare, and for everyone, especially our government, to stay the hell out of the business of any woman who has to make the gut-wrenching decision to have an abortion.

respect for stay-at-home moms

I grew up having the utmost respect for working moms, as in, moms who not only take care of the house and kids but also have a paid job outside the home. My mom instilled in me from a really young age that I needed to stand on my own two feet and not depend on a man for money, that it didn’t matter how much money my future husband would make because if he left me, or God forbid, died, I’d be left with nothing or little and would need to rebuild whatever career I would have left. And there’s actually data to prove this: women who leave the workforce to care for their children and return a few years later re-enter at a lower position, lower salary, and have to work *that* much harder to get back to where they left off, if they are even lucky enough to get back there. I also heard a lot of negative comments from other kids or moms against “working moms” — working moms supposedly don’t care or aren’t as invested in their children as stay-at-home moms; working moms only think about their own careers and not raising their children. There are certainly flipped arguments here that you could use against stay-at-home moms, but either way, I heard more disparaging comments about working moms growing up. And what is not even in any of these debates is… what about “working dads” or the rare stay-at-home dad? Why don’t dads ever pit themselves against each other in these regards? Moms of all types have to argue with each other and prove who is the best. It’s so tiring.

But it goes without saying that in this generation, it’s a privilege to even *think* about being a stay-at-home parent. For most of us who live in major metropolitan areas with a high cost of living, it’s pretty much untenable to NOT have both parents working. Childcare is expensive regardless of whether it’s a daycare center or a nanny. Unless you have nearby grandparents or a very loving and selfless relative nearby who wants to help for free, there’s no getting around high childcare expenses. And being a mom now, I have thought a lot more about what life would be like from a stay-at-home mom’s standpoint, and I’ve actually learned to really admire them. For those moms who had a budding or happy career or job, they chose the selfless path to play the primary role in child-rearing and gave up their careers for their children. They felt they could be the best caregiver there was for their child, and so they pushed money and “status” aside to do that. They wanted to be there for their children’s “firsts” and be there for all the moments their babies needed encouragement and love immediately. They made that decision believing it was the best choice for their child and family, and so they became a different type of “working mom” — the working mom who works full time and gets paid zero dollars to help their child grow and flourish.

Our world we live in has little to no respect for caregivers, whether they are for the very young or the very old. We devalue childcare and elderly care. But why do we do this when our babies will eventually become the people running the world in the next couple decades, or when the elderly have given their all to society when they were in their prime?

Eyes that still bulge when they see the boobies

Many weeks ago, I stopped nursing the baby before her bottle. Chris suggested it since it would make the feedings more efficient. And while it made me sad to stop, I knew that it was for the best. It would make the day smoother. She would get her main food faster. And I would nurse her only when she got fussy perhaps due to pre-teething or when she needed a little extra after a bottle feed. I was still technically breast-feeding her because I was still pumping as much milk as I could, but I just wasn’t having as much direct breast to mouth contact anymore. The main time that I would nurse her would be before bedtime for the night after her last feed, when she needed an “aperitif” as Chris calls it. I would put her on my boob until she was satisfied, whether that was from the extra milk or just being soothed from being on the breast. I look forward to this time every night when it’s just the two of us in the bedroom together, and she is on my boob and I am caressing her hair and her face and relishing these quiet moments of just the two of us together in the darkness and peace. 

Although I will always be sad that I was never able to successfully nurse her exclusively, it will always make me smile when I think about how much she loves my boobs. In the morning when I get up and say good morning to her while she is in the bassinet for her morning nap after her first feed, I usually have the straps on my nursing top undone, so my breasts are exposed to get ready for my first morning pump. And it is the cutest and most hilarious thing when I poke my head into her bassinet to say good morning, and she immediately makes eye contact with me and smiles. And predictably, her eyes move down from my face directly to my breasts, and it’s like her eyes almost bulge out with excitement. Her mouth opens wide and she is just nearly jumping out of her skin. She starts kicking her legs and flailing her arms as though she is trying to say, get me on those boobies right now! She just loves the boobs. If she had it her way, she would be on my boob all day and all night. And this thought always makes me smile and feel happy. My baby loves me. My baby needs me. And even if she isn’t able to get her nourishment directly from my breast, she still loves spending time on my breast. She loves being with me. She is soothed from being on my boobs. And at this point in time, I have made peace with it. I am still her mother. I am still able to soothe and take care of her. I am still able to provide her food from my breasts, pumped into a bottle. And these are all amazing things. These are all things that I am constantly grateful for.

Pregnancy wistfulness and mom thoughts

I went to visit my neighbor yesterday to drop off a few baby related things that were either brand new that I never got to use, as well as a few lightly used baby items. She is 37 weeks pregnant, also from IVF, and she is expecting her first, which is a girl. She is 40 years old, and her husband is 51. She told me that she is very well aware that even though she has two more embryos that are frozen, that those may not ever make it. So this could be her one and only child. She told me that even though she was excited to meet her baby soon, she was really sad that her pregnancy was ending. It wasn’t that she wanted her pregnancy to last forever, but time just passed way too quickly. She wanted to relish the little moments more and more. Similar to me, she had a very smooth and straightforward pregnancy after IVF. She has loved every moment of being pregnant and has been incredibly grateful that IVF worked out and that she was pregnant, though at a much later age than she had hoped. She and her husband had been trying for over eight years to conceive naturally, and it just never worked. It wasn’t until last year that they finally tried IVF.

I relate a lot to her sadness about her pregnancy ending. Towards the end of my pregnancy, I also felt a little bit sad, though obviously I was at the same time very excited. I also have a similar sentiment as she does when it comes to that thought that this could be her only child. It seems that only other moms can relate to this feeling of sadness. Many parts of pregnancy as well as new motherhood and motherhood in general are difficult, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t love it and enjoy it. As far as I know, there has been no deeper meaning in life to me than raising my baby and growing her in my womb. As much as I have tried to relish every moment of pregnancy as well as new motherhood, it all just felt like it’s going too fast. Even today, it is going far too quickly for me. Our baby is growing well, but I just can’t believe that she is already four months old. I told my neighbor my feelings around this, and I told her that those complicated emotions of happiness and sadness  at your baby progressing and growing are just going to continue. Because obviously as mothers, while we want our babies to grow, we all wish that we could just freeze time so that they didn’t grow too fast. I tried to explain this to Chris, and his response was, she’s not growing too fast! She’s right on the curve! …Well, that is not what I mean. I do not literally mean that she is growing too fast. What I mean is that these moments are all passing me by too quickly, and before I know it, she is not going to need me to feed her or to get her from place to place. She’s going to be an independent woman before we even know it. And that is just crazy to me.

Getting ready for baby’s bedtime

Kaia’s last feed of the day is at 8pm now. Chris feeds and burps her, and then he hands her off to me so that I can sing and rock her to sleep. Occasionally, she needs my boob as a “finisher” before she falls asleep. Since I don’t nurse her a lot anymore unless it’s to soothe or calm her, I look forward to this quiet evening time when it’s just the two of us in the bedroom together.

The last few nights, I’ve felt sad… sad that I know I’ll have to go back to work in less than a month, sad that the last four months have flown by so quickly, sad that she’s growing so fast right before my eyes and that all these little quiet moments with her will soon become a distant memory, only able to be revisited via videos and photos that I take. I hold her tight before putting her down in her bassinet each night and remind her how much I love her. I whisper in her little ear that mommy and daddy love her so, so much. I’m happy to see her growing and now actually starting to outgrow her 0-3 month clothes, but sad that it feels like she’s just growing too fast. Sometimes, I just want to freeze time and savor this moment of her, right here and now. My baby is just growing so fast, too fast.

When six pumps a day becomes five

Today is my fourth day doing five pumps a day, and I really wasn’t expecting to be reducing it down to five pumps a day this soon. My original goal was to get down to five pumps a day before I went back to work, with my sixth pump dropped from the middle of the night, ultimately allowing me to sleep at least 6 to 7 hours straight at night. I know there would have been no way for me to survive working full-time while also caring for my baby without a full night’s sleep, and so this was what I decided to do for myself.  Given that my supply actually went up when I went down to six pumps per day from seven, I decided to start weaning myself sooner rather than later off of my sixth pump. And after about a week and a half, I cut that sixth pump out. I was scared initially, particularly about getting yet another milk clog, but I made sure to take extra sunflower lecithin pills as well as massage my breasts thoroughly as soon as I woke up, as per the recommendation from my Cleo lactation consultant. And so far, so good. My supply has remained a similar, and if anything, it has actually increased slightly.

I feel really good at five pumps per day now. I hope to be doing this now until at least 7 to 8 months postpartum. My original goal was six months, but given how balanced I feel right now and how less overwhelmed I feel with pumping at five pumps per day, I think I can keep this up for longer. I hope I can be giving my baby breastmilk until she is one year old. I am anticipating my supply dropping once my period comes back as it does with most breastfeeding moms, but that’s okay. I have made peace with all of that.

I actually felt a little bit sad as I dropped my sixth pump, as strange as that sounds. You would think that given I had such a love-hate relationship with pumping that I would be really excited every single time I dropped another pump. But instead, it actually made me feel a little bit empty and emotional. Because as I continue to drop pumps, I will get closer and closer to the stage when my baby no longer needs breastmilk and will be eating solids 100 percent. And what this actually means is that she will be less reliant on me. There is an inner joy and comfort that I feel knowing that my body is producing food for my baby to eat. I am providing her with essential nutrients and more. And to know that eventually, this journey will come to an end makes me a little bit sad; her reliance on my body for food will eventually come to an end. One day, she is not going to need me to comfort her by having her suckle on my boob. One day, she is not going to need me to carry her around anymore. One day, she is not really going to want to bury her face in my chest or be soothed simply from the sound of my voice speaking or singing. All of these moments are going to come to an end at some point. It’s a little sad to think about it that way. All of these little moments that I love and cherish are eventually going to end.

Every day, as she gets older, she will be a little bit less reliant on me. Now, she has very good neck strength and needs just a little bit of neck support. Next, she will no longer need us to carry her around because she will be able to walk. Then, she will be able to talk. And eventually, she will be going around the city on her own and doing her own thing. She will gradually become more and more independent and less dependent on us as her parents. And this is all a journey. This is all part of raising a child and giving life. There is a time for everything, and each of those times eventually ends. I just want to sit in each of these moments a little bit longer and cherish it because it really does all go way too fast. I still can’t even believe this is her sixteenth week of life. It all just passes us by too quickly.

One year anniversary of the embryo transfer

Today marks one year since I had my frozen embryo transfer. That tiny little embryo, that little bundle of cells that were expanding, ended up being a little baby that I gave birth to in December and now call my sweet baby Kaia. I got the photo memory on my phone this morning, and I smiled to myself while looking at it at the gym. I had a lot of hope and a lot of fear that morning when I went into the clinic for my transfer. During the transfer, per my request, they played Lady Gaga songs to inspire me. And when I went home that night, Chris and my friend who was staying with us at the time tried to send good vibes and declared me “pupo”: pregnant until proven otherwise. And so for the next week and a half, I was just that: I was Pupo. And about a week in, I started feeling a strange warmth almost like a light fire creeping up on my hips. And that was when I suspected that the embryo transfer was successful, that I was actually pregnant. And nine days after the transfer happened, I went into the clinic for my very first beta , and at just before noon that day, the nurse called with the good news that I was four weeks pregnant. I was so happy and so shocked that I immediately got choked up and started crying. It felt like an eternity – trying to get pregnant, constantly failing, going to the clinic constantly for endless appointments and endless blood tests and endless uterine scans … And finally this one bit of good news was more than I could handle.

The photo of me that came up on my phone was of me on the evening after the embryo transfer. I have a photo that the clinic gave me of my embryo and expanding as you can clearly see in the picture. I have it placed right at my belly and I’m smiling in the photo. When I took that photo, I wasn’t sure what would come next. I wasn’t sure if I would continue to get good news in the upcoming appointments. Every time I went to the bathroom, I was terrified that I was going to see blood , which would indicate that I’d had a miscarriage. It took me a really long time to not get nervous going to the bathroom. But eventually, my nerves were calmed, and I started getting more comfortable with being pregnant. It’s amazing to think how quickly time flies because those scary and uncertain times feel like they were just yesterday.

 And now today, I am still on maternity leave caring for my sweet baby. Every day, I look at her constantly obviously, and I never forget how much uncertainty and fear I had during this journey in conceiving and giving birth to her. I never for a second forget how scary that process was, and I never take for granted what I have; I know I am extremely lucky. There are endless women out there who are trying to get pregnant and not able to, and they would love to have just one chance to conceive successfully.  I feel for them every day. I know their pain intimately. So even when my baby is screaming and crying because of her pre-teething pain, even when it has made me sad that she has not been successful at eating directly from my boob, even when she blows out yet another diaper and I have to pre-soak more of her onesies, even when I get pissed at my pumping schedule, and even when Chris and I are disagreeing and arguing about something baby related, I remember that what I have today is truly a blessing, a gift for which I will forever be grateful. My baby is truly the center of my world, and there is nothing else that I am more grateful for in this life than her. Sometimes I look at her, and I think, fuck everything else. She is literally everything to me and nothing else matters. My sweet little Kaia jam.

Donating IVF medications

When I look back, I always feel extremely grateful and lucky that I only had to do one IVF cycle to have Kaia. Through all of the IVF support groups, Instagram handles, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances I know who have gone through and are currently going through IVF, I know that I am not the rule: I am the exception when it comes to a successful IVF journey. Every single day, when I look at Kaia‘s face, I am so grateful that I have her because I know others are nowhere as lucky as I have been. Even though I only had one embryo that made it, that one embryo is now my healthy baby. And for that, I am beyond blessed. I read real stories of people’s endless IVF cycles, failed transfers, zero embryos that made it through genetic testing, and sometimes, I have broken down and cried. All these people want to do is start a family or expand their family. It’s not like they are asking for much, but given the environmental factors that we are facing in a very polluted world now, our eggs and sperm have collectively been compromised. And so, some of us face more challenges than others when it comes to conceiving and carrying babies to term. And because I can relate to that pain, as there were many moments in the last two years when I wondered if I would ever have my own biological child, I wanted to be able to help others in some small way.

I knew I had a lot of IVF medication left over from my single cycle last year. I was also fortunate from a financial standpoint and that I had Chris’s amazing health insurance that paid for the vast majority of the IVF costs. The total raw cost of all of the medication that I got was likely around $15-18K. What did I pay? Only about $300 out-of-pocket. When I looked at my remaining medication that would be expiring in the second half of this year, I realized that I had about $7000 of medication that was still sealed, brand new, and never used. This would completely go to waste if I just left it in my closet. It’s illegal to resell medication, and so that never even crossed my mind for a second… Even though I am sure that people would have bought it from me, and I could’ve made a decent amount of money. For me, to resell IVF medication feels very wrong, to play on the hearts and minds of those who are the most vulnerable. And so, in the one private IVF support group that I have continue to stay in on Facebook, I posted that I would be giving the medications away for free to anyone who would be willing to pick them up from my apartment here in New York. I asked for them to follow the honor code and only request the medication if they were a self pay patient. Of course, I got a lot of responses. Some of the people who responded lived as far away as Pennsylvania and Chicago. They were willing to either come here or have a friend or relative pick it up from me who is local. All of them asked if there was any way for them to repay me. I told them I did not want to accept any money… But if they really wanted to give me something in return, then I would appreciate something sweet, maybe ice cream.

Well, these women were very grateful and thoughtful, as well. They all asked me about what flavors of ice cream I liked and what brands, and so I rattled off a short list of flavors as well as brands that I liked. And now, after having given away all of my medication to three different self-pay IVF patients in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York, we now have over seven different types of ice cream that are sitting in the back of our freezer. We have Häagen-Dazs, Malai Ice Cream, Tollhouse ice cream sandwiches, and Adirondack Creamery. Is the value the same as value of the medication? Of course it isn’t. But none of that really matters to me. When I heard their brief stories of their own IVF journeys, my heart just broke. All of them have done multiple IVF cycles. One was on her fourth IVF cycle. Two of out of three of them have paid completely out of pocket… Just for the mere chance of having a baby. I have not forgotten the pain and suffering that I went through when going through the exact same process as they did. So I hope this little bit that I have done will help give them some hope for the future and help with the expenses.