Monday, October 29, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Newsletter: Month 1
Dear JB, Baby Boy, Bean, J.Br, J-bird, Bug, Bud, Rosebud, Boo, Boo-Boo, Ruggy, Sir-Squeaks-a-Lot, on and on and on (we’re like crazy-lunatics with the nicknames...)
Today you are one month old. In your short life, you have already met a lot of people. We are overwhelmed by all the cards and gifts you have received, and all the people that have expressed excitement and shared our joy in your birth. (We are buried in “to be written” thank you notes.) Your grandparents and aunts and uncles have outdone themselves… Thoughts and prayers and gifts have been sent from literally all over the globe: from far away friends, classmates, family, family of friends, and online peeps (some of whom we have never even met.) In your first month, you have already attended a birth (your cousin, Cam’s) and a funeral (Mrs. Honan’s- the mother of a friend and mentor of your two moms.) I assure you, this could only happen to a child who is surrounded by an adoring and loving family/community.
You were born 2 weeks early. When we were admitted to the hospital and realized we would not go home without you bundled in our arms, we worried that we had not completed our professional obligations. And we knew our chores and baby preparations were not quite finished at home either. We had to ask your Aunt Teri (9 ½ months pregnant herself) to key into our house and finish organizing your room and clean the
When you got to us, you were a little jaundiced… Your coloring is now less orange, but still tan-ish and more olive-colored than pink. Everyone comments on your “healthy coloring.” Your Nana says it looks like you’ve been, “sunbathing in the Bahamas.” Your eyes are slate blue for now. Your skin has been pretty clear - very little “baby acne.” Your tiny head is perfectly round (one of the benefits of a c-section). You have short, dark hair that is curly when wet and flaunts a pretty severe cowlick. The part in your hair brings to mind a straight-laced, geeky, conservative, businessman or politician, no-nonsense type hair style. I can’t wait to get some “product” in there and start to manipulate it a little.
You are the first boy born into our family in many years, and habits are hard to break. In the past when we all thought of and talked to babies, they were usually little girls, so you got called “princess” and “a good girl” a lot when you were first born. As if to differentiate yourself, you have that hair (discussed above), you are stout, and you are a major league grunter. You make a lot of noise when you eat and when you sleep. I am oddly comforted by your noisy sleep. I like lifting my head off the pillow and hearing you breathe loudly across the room. I have been hiding the nose aspirator from your other mother who hears your snortling and tends to want to manually clear out your air passages.
You are a breastfed boy and have done a good job from day one “latching on.” Mommy has a lot of milk… But potentially having too great a supply (as compared to having too little) has made all of our lives easier. Last week we purchased a 0-3month “nuk” and finally have found you a “binkie” option that you seem to agree with.
You often make me laugh during our breastfeeding time. Either because you pull away, choking with a mouthful of milk spilling out all over your face, or because you are grunting or groaning like a cave man who is eating his first BBQ. One time I looked down and your two hands were spread wide on either side of my breast as if you were eating a giant Big Mac. Another time you literally burped yourself off my nipple, shouted a moan while slapping your clamped fists down to your hips, and as a finale let out a whoopee-cushion-worthy peppering of liquid fireworks into your diaper. It was extremely lady like! All kidding aside, you have made your mark here already: Last week for the first time, I heard someone say, “Good boy,” to one of your female cousins.
Things are still pretty confusing in our home. Coordinating your care, your meals, and making sure all of us are getting enough sleep is not easy. I have not had this many consecutive weeks off from work since before I graduated from college, yet this is no vacation. There are so many items on the “To do” lists that it almost seems like it is time to stop writing those lists. You have very smart, well-educated mommies, but we are like children trying to figure it all out: calling our moms, calling our friends who are moms, and carrying around “What to Expect in the First Year” as if it were a life preserver on the Titanic. We never thought we would spend this much time studying and reassuring each other about the color, consistency, and smell of your poop. We worry that you are not sleeping enough and then that you might be sleeping too much; that you are too warm or too cold. It’s not that you are fussy, or doing anything wrong, it’s just we’ve never lived with a baby before. We find ourselves overwhelmed by how defenseless you are and how vulnerable you have made us.
We cherish your tiny parts, perfect movements, and your breath - trying to enjoy each moment without worrying too much. We try to encourage each other not to be paranoid, overbearing freak-shows when it comes to you and your safety… (We’ll see how that goes.) We’ve made a parenting pact: Getting to know you and spending time just “being” together as a new family has become our highest priority and our full time, most important job.
We have all barely been apart in the last month and I am grateful for that experience. My favorite times together have been during “family naps” in the afternoon and your baths. You seem to love bath time. You completely “Zen-out.” Your expression goes soft. Softness is not lethargy; your eyes stay alert and open. And the warm water seems to "wash your worries away."
You are a good baby and only cry or fuss when you need something - food, sleep, a burp, or diaper change. I am a big fan of swaddling little babies to keep their limbs tucked away and prevent the inadvertent flailing about that can wake a sleeping tyke. Your other Mama leaves the swaddling to me because she says I am much better at “swaddling the shit” out of you after you have fallen asleep. I notice you seem to like to stretch out and seem to hate the swaddle, (as evidenced by all the grunting when you realize you are all bound up…) but for at least a little while longer, I’m gonna assume that you like the swaddle as much as I do… I’ll bend to your will if the grunting doesn’t subside in a few more weeks, or if you shred the swaddling blankets in anger before then.
You sleep so well and peacefully when you are being held, are resting upon our chests, or even if you are lying beside us… You sleep in the bassinet and Pack and Play, but not for as long and not as quietly as when you are held. We are clinging to the notion that an infant can not be spoiled, because we would rather hold you than put you down at this point anyway. Sometimes you smile in your sleep. Yesterday, you seemed to look right at us and grin widely - as if you knew us. We know it is probably a coincidence (or gas) but it was very adorable and a preview of the sweet expressions we can look forward to…
We whisper words of love hundreds of times a day. But words cannot express or address the blessings bestowed on us this month. It is our pleasure and honor to meet you and welcome you into the world, little man. We’re eager and thrilled to ride this rollercoaster with you (even if we ride sans safety harnesses.)
We love you with hearts overflowing,
Your Mommies
No sleep for a true fan
I'm too old (and too sleep deprived) to keep these post-season hours...
BUT... I can't help myself... Our beloved Red Sox are up 3 games to nothing, and barring catastrophe, it looks like Theo Epstein might be building an empire.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Missing purple toothbrush
The west coast cousins were here last Sunday thru Tuesday (a significant percentage of them anyway.)
We were were psyched that they saw fit to make the journey east to meet our new Weblets and visit. We keep in touch by phone and email (and blog), but too manymonths years have passed (too many houses have been purchased and new cousins were born) since we've broken bread, exchanged laughter, and been able to hug and kiss one another.
Kt and i were proud that 3 weeks post c-section and 3 weeks into the unpredictable schedule and sleep patterns of motherhood and breastfeeding, we were able to coordinate a "bed and breakfast" type environment where 6 adults and 5 children under the age of 8 were able to comfortably eat, sleep, play, visit, catch up, co-exist, and create vital, extended-family "memories." We were able to pull off a picnic-type dinner party for 20... and by "we," I mean all of us working together. We could not have done it with or for different guests.
Our cousins have amazing children: They are smart, cute, loving, playful, inventive, and well-behaved. Our cousins are good parents: They are lo-key and laid back, yet organized. Our cousins are good guests: They are gracious, easy to please, not picky, and share our priorities (The highest priority it to have fun and make the most of our brief time together.)
They did a lot of the cooking and cleaning up; and they straightened this house within an inch of all of our lives before leaving our estate. The weather in-and-of-itself was a gift- adding to the feeling that reunions are always calming, worthwhile endeavors. With the warm temps, sunny days, cool breezes, colorful leaves- we had 2 picture perfect autumn days which allowed us to lounge around outside for almost all the time we were together.
Watching them drive away, raising my sleeping son's floppy arm in a pantomimed "Goodbye" wave, filled me with a little more than a little regret (that we live thousands of miles from each other) and a lot of gratitude (that they are out there in another part of the world, loving and taking care of us; and somehow benefiting from the long-distance love and care we offer them.)
I walked back into my house. 14 hours earlier, observing all of the toys and clothes and personal item strewn about every room of the house, i made a silent, mental note: There will be a "leave-behind*"... there will be the need to ship some body's blanket, book, or base guitar back to CA. It would be nearly impossible for there not to be something that was overlooked or left under a couch, etc. But it's been 4 days and though we found some of our refrigerator magnets under the couch, we are not aware of any belongings left behind.
Of course, we are down a purple toothbrush- some overzealous, underage 'Nort, sent by a 'Rent to pack up bathroom supplies, no doubt!
Interesting sidebar: The purple toothbrush was the third one in our holder. (I can see why someone swiped it. It didn't match our two others and we are only a 2 person (adult) household, after all.) The purple one, though, is the womb whisperer's. She left the hospital the night JB was born after attending to us for 26 or 28 sleepless hours. She went to our home, unwrapped little purple out of our "new toothbrush" drawer, slept in our bed and woke up early to drive down the east coast to get back to her grad school work. We left it, undisturbed in the holder for her when she returns to hold the little dude... Actually, at some point, kt started using the purple one instead of her pink one. I think she thought that level of intimacy (swapping spit via used toothbrush) would bring the w.w. back to us sooner...
Anyway, I think it is funny that the west coast cousins managed a reverse leave-behind* ... I guess it's our turn to get out there soon!
*The "Leave-behind" made famous by George Costanza and Jerry Seinfeld in The Chicken Roaster episode :
Jerry: How do you make sure your gonna get to the third date?
We were were psyched that they saw fit to make the journey east to meet our new Weblets and visit. We keep in touch by phone and email (and blog), but too many
Kt and i were proud that 3 weeks post c-section and 3 weeks into the unpredictable schedule and sleep patterns of motherhood and breastfeeding, we were able to coordinate a "bed and breakfast" type environment where 6 adults and 5 children under the age of 8 were able to comfortably eat, sleep, play, visit, catch up, co-exist, and create vital, extended-family "memories." We were able to pull off a picnic-type dinner party for 20... and by "we," I mean all of us working together. We could not have done it with or for different guests.
Our cousins have amazing children: They are smart, cute, loving, playful, inventive, and well-behaved. Our cousins are good parents: They are lo-key and laid back, yet organized. Our cousins are good guests: They are gracious, easy to please, not picky, and share our priorities (The highest priority it to have fun and make the most of our brief time together.)
They did a lot of the cooking and cleaning up; and they straightened this house within an inch of all of our lives before leaving our estate. The weather in-and-of-itself was a gift- adding to the feeling that reunions are always calming, worthwhile endeavors. With the warm temps, sunny days, cool breezes, colorful leaves- we had 2 picture perfect autumn days which allowed us to lounge around outside for almost all the time we were together.
Watching them drive away, raising my sleeping son's floppy arm in a pantomimed "Goodbye" wave, filled me with a little more than a little regret (that we live thousands of miles from each other) and a lot of gratitude (that they are out there in another part of the world, loving and taking care of us; and somehow benefiting from the long-distance love and care we offer them.)
I walked back into my house. 14 hours earlier, observing all of the toys and clothes and personal item strewn about every room of the house, i made a silent, mental note: There will be a "leave-behind*"... there will be the need to ship some body's blanket, book, or base guitar back to CA. It would be nearly impossible for there not to be something that was overlooked or left under a couch, etc. But it's been 4 days and though we found some of our refrigerator magnets under the couch, we are not aware of any belongings left behind.
Of course, we are down a purple toothbrush- some overzealous, underage 'Nort, sent by a 'Rent to pack up bathroom supplies, no doubt!
Interesting sidebar: The purple toothbrush was the third one in our holder. (I can see why someone swiped it. It didn't match our two others and we are only a 2 person (adult) household, after all.) The purple one, though, is the womb whisperer's. She left the hospital the night JB was born after attending to us for 26 or 28 sleepless hours. She went to our home, unwrapped little purple out of our "new toothbrush" drawer, slept in our bed and woke up early to drive down the east coast to get back to her grad school work. We left it, undisturbed in the holder for her when she returns to hold the little dude... Actually, at some point, kt started using the purple one instead of her pink one. I think she thought that level of intimacy (swapping spit via used toothbrush) would bring the w.w. back to us sooner...
Anyway, I think it is funny that the west coast cousins managed a reverse leave-behind* ... I guess it's our turn to get out there soon!
*The "Leave-behind" made famous by George Costanza and Jerry Seinfeld in The Chicken Roaster episode :
Jerry: How do you make sure your gonna get to the third date?
George: If there's any doubt, I do a leave-behind keys, glove, scarf, I go
back to her place to pick it up...date number three.
Jerry: That's so old. Why don't you show up at her door in a wood horse?
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Rain, Rain, Go Away
Our beloved Red Sox are fighting the good fight in the first game of the 2007 World Series, but it is pouring in Bean Town. Here's hoping that they don't call the game until it is official- which happens after 5 complete innings.
Right now, it's the bottom of the 4th. Red Sox 4, Rockies 1. Beckett is pitching an awesome game so far; and the offense is getting it done.
As a long time Bosox fan, I am used to regularly scheduled heartache. But last time they won the World Series was the year that Web and I both got married, and it would be a really nice welcome gift to celebrate the birth of our two new babies...
"2007, JB- the fall you were born was the last time they won it all." I can imagine my spittle-filled, dentured mouth yammering to my adult son. Plus, doesn't this guy have any pull in heaven?!?
Early AM
So, this is nothing new for me to be posting at this hour, right?
But I'm not posting b/c I've been laying awake thinking, stressing, or otherwise unable to sleep... I'm awake 'cause I have a newborn and he needed to eat and I fed him some boob and changed his diaper. (Well, actually, I changed 3 diapers in 30 minutes- I think exposing his sweet ass to air and then covering it again with a fresh diaper causes him baby diarrhea. Either that, or he has a the instincts of a wicked jokester...)
This is the 3rd consecutive night of the 3 hour sleep cycle.
For 3 weeks, the nights looked/ felt something like this:
Feed at 8pm... baby sleeps 8:30 to 9:45...
Baby spends time grunting, groaning whining, rooting...
Start feeding between 9:45 and 10 pm... baby sleeps 10:25 to 11:45
Baby spends time grunting, groaning whining, rooting...
Feed at midnight... and basically 2 ish, 4 ish, 6 ish
Moms spend time grunting, groaning whining, and generally being fussy...
The problem of course being that he basically slept 2 hours at a time b/c he fell asleep during or immediately after the food and care offered to him, but Kt and I were only getting 50-90 minutes of sleep at a time b/c we had other things preventing this type of instant gratification... Like, hand washing after diaper changes; general hygiene such as cleaning up excessive amounts of breast milk that had inadvertently spewed out of the NNIU (Nipple Not In Use) or sponging off the sweat that soaked my clothes and bedding during the brief naps- what kind of hormones cause this type of sweating in a sleep cycle that is barely an hour long?!? And then of course the 10 to 20 minutes of wasted sleep time used to track/ observe/ obsess over Newborn JB noises or lack of noises...
Mommy 1: (tap, tap, tap) Babe, is all that grunting normal?
Mommy 2: Huh? (shaking self out of sleep) I don't know...
Mommy 2: Now why is he so quiet??? Is he breathing?
Mommy 1: I'll check. (sticking hand in front of infant's face causing a startled grunt out of infant)
Mommy 2: (hearing startled grunt) Oh, good.
Mommy 1: But that grunting... Is it normal? Is he in pain? Do we have to unclog his nostrils?
Mommy 2: (half awake, half asleep) Don't know...
But for three nights now... he is sleeping three to THREE AND ONE-HALF hours at a time!!! He is accomplishing this at least 2 times during the middle of the night... which gives us three or more hours at a clip! TWO OR THREE TIMES A NIGHT!!! Plus, we are getting smarter and are finally able to coordinate solo night-time care... taking turns getting up instead of both of us getting up to care for him together.
Anyway, I'm going back to sleep right now. But it is so easy to function with a tiny bit more sleep. I'm gonna make a leap and say that doubling your amount of sleep does not always make you more effective. For instance, if as an adult, you are getting 7 or 8 hours a night, I don't think increasing that amount to 14 or 16 hours will make you a higher functioning being. (It might actually make you pee or poop yourself- which we all can agree is not an indicator of high functioning.) BUT, increasing the sleep you are getting from one or 1.5 hours to 2 or 3 hours...
WOW.
My temperament is much more balanced: changing a diaper 3 times in 30 minutes becomes an adorable pleasantry... looking over at a sleeping wife is very endearing again- and not something that makes me want to commit homicide. I'm ready to start doing physics in my spare time...
But I'm not posting b/c I've been laying awake thinking, stressing, or otherwise unable to sleep... I'm awake 'cause I have a newborn and he needed to eat and I fed him some boob and changed his diaper. (Well, actually, I changed 3 diapers in 30 minutes- I think exposing his sweet ass to air and then covering it again with a fresh diaper causes him baby diarrhea. Either that, or he has a the instincts of a wicked jokester...)
This is the 3rd consecutive night of the 3 hour sleep cycle.
For 3 weeks, the nights looked/ felt something like this:
Feed at 8pm... baby sleeps 8:30 to 9:45...
Baby spends time grunting, groaning whining, rooting...
Start feeding between 9:45 and 10 pm... baby sleeps 10:25 to 11:45
Baby spends time grunting, groaning whining, rooting...
Feed at midnight... and basically 2 ish, 4 ish, 6 ish
Moms spend time grunting, groaning whining, and generally being fussy...
The problem of course being that he basically slept 2 hours at a time b/c he fell asleep during or immediately after the food and care offered to him, but Kt and I were only getting 50-90 minutes of sleep at a time b/c we had other things preventing this type of instant gratification... Like, hand washing after diaper changes; general hygiene such as cleaning up excessive amounts of breast milk that had inadvertently spewed out of the NNIU (Nipple Not In Use) or sponging off the sweat that soaked my clothes and bedding during the brief naps- what kind of hormones cause this type of sweating in a sleep cycle that is barely an hour long?!? And then of course the 10 to 20 minutes of wasted sleep time used to track/ observe/ obsess over Newborn JB noises or lack of noises...
Mommy 1: (tap, tap, tap) Babe, is all that grunting normal?
Mommy 2: Huh? (shaking self out of sleep) I don't know...
Mommy 2: Now why is he so quiet??? Is he breathing?
Mommy 1: I'll check. (sticking hand in front of infant's face causing a startled grunt out of infant)
Mommy 2: (hearing startled grunt) Oh, good.
Mommy 1: But that grunting... Is it normal? Is he in pain? Do we have to unclog his nostrils?
Mommy 2: (half awake, half asleep) Don't know...
But for three nights now... he is sleeping three to THREE AND ONE-HALF hours at a time!!! He is accomplishing this at least 2 times during the middle of the night... which gives us three or more hours at a clip! TWO OR THREE TIMES A NIGHT!!! Plus, we are getting smarter and are finally able to coordinate solo night-time care... taking turns getting up instead of both of us getting up to care for him together.
Anyway, I'm going back to sleep right now. But it is so easy to function with a tiny bit more sleep. I'm gonna make a leap and say that doubling your amount of sleep does not always make you more effective. For instance, if as an adult, you are getting 7 or 8 hours a night, I don't think increasing that amount to 14 or 16 hours will make you a higher functioning being. (It might actually make you pee or poop yourself- which we all can agree is not an indicator of high functioning.) BUT, increasing the sleep you are getting from one or 1.5 hours to 2 or 3 hours...
WOW.
My temperament is much more balanced: changing a diaper 3 times in 30 minutes becomes an adorable pleasantry... looking over at a sleeping wife is very endearing again- and not something that makes me want to commit homicide. I'm ready to start doing physics in my spare time...
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Fun with neon colors
If you want to see nature produce the most brilliant glow-in-the-dark green you could imagine, give your breast-feeding wife kale to eat.
Approximately 12 hours later, change your 3 week old son's diaper.
Voila!
As a side note, they warn you about boys peeing on you. And it's happened several times. Once it even happened that he peed straight back and got urine is his own ear. (Don't worry, I don't think he was traumatized too badly, by the pee or by my hysterical laughter) Last night we were fortunate to have my best friend from college (we'll call her Runs Hurdles Like the Wind) and while I was recounting this story and changing JB's diaper at the same time, he gave us a new surprise.
He blew stool from the pack n play to the couch.
I am cracking up as I type. It was absolute hilarity (and apparently still is). RHLW jumped out of the way just in time to save her beautiful purple sweater. I grabbed the nearest wipe and attempted to the stem the tide.
Too late.
Let's just say that my photographic memory will never let me forget the vision of my son's butt spraying yellow stool towards me, and when I could not be reached, the couch.
I do worry he might actually be traumatized by this incident. Not because he hit the couch. Mostly because I can't stop laughing. With him. Not at him.
Approximately 12 hours later, change your 3 week old son's diaper.
Voila!
As a side note, they warn you about boys peeing on you. And it's happened several times. Once it even happened that he peed straight back and got urine is his own ear. (Don't worry, I don't think he was traumatized too badly, by the pee or by my hysterical laughter) Last night we were fortunate to have my best friend from college (we'll call her Runs Hurdles Like the Wind) and while I was recounting this story and changing JB's diaper at the same time, he gave us a new surprise.
He blew stool from the pack n play to the couch.
I am cracking up as I type. It was absolute hilarity (and apparently still is). RHLW jumped out of the way just in time to save her beautiful purple sweater. I grabbed the nearest wipe and attempted to the stem the tide.
Too late.
Let's just say that my photographic memory will never let me forget the vision of my son's butt spraying yellow stool towards me, and when I could not be reached, the couch.
I do worry he might actually be traumatized by this incident. Not because he hit the couch. Mostly because I can't stop laughing. With him. Not at him.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
A new day
I guess JB read yesterday's post, b/c he woke to eat at very reasonable time intervals last night: 9p, 12a, 3a, 6a... Just like a little, "first born" alarm clock.
Today, the cavalry arrived.
My sister and mom showed up in the AM to visit and provide food and change babies en mass.
Mac- 19 months old and around 24- ish pounds (i'm completely guessing at her weight), is too big for a one-week post c-section mom to lift. So, Nana to the rescue! (My mom was not heartbroken to use up some of her 141 accumulated sick days to help out this week.)
We got to chill together. Swap babies every few minutes. Take Mac for a few short walks. And after eating some take out, I was ordered upstairs for a nap. I did not resist and slept soundly from 1 to 3pm. When I woke up, I felt rejuvenated.
My sister is a machine. Still some guarding/tenderness about the abdomen, you only notice the wincing if you look closely when she rises from a sitting position. She handled 2 infants with ease: diaper changes, bottle feedings, gentle stroking, etc. She even had time to set up a little photo shoot of the cousins snoozing together.
Thanks, team baby! ily!
Today, the cavalry arrived.
My sister and mom showed up in the AM to visit and provide food and change babies en mass.
Mac- 19 months old and around 24- ish pounds (i'm completely guessing at her weight), is too big for a one-week post c-section mom to lift. So, Nana to the rescue! (My mom was not heartbroken to use up some of her 141 accumulated sick days to help out this week.)
We got to chill together. Swap babies every few minutes. Take Mac for a few short walks. And after eating some take out, I was ordered upstairs for a nap. I did not resist and slept soundly from 1 to 3pm. When I woke up, I felt rejuvenated.
My sister is a machine. Still some guarding/tenderness about the abdomen, you only notice the wincing if you look closely when she rises from a sitting position. She handled 2 infants with ease: diaper changes, bottle feedings, gentle stroking, etc. She even had time to set up a little photo shoot of the cousins snoozing together.
Thanks, team baby! ily!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Anniversary
I try not to, but I still hate October 17th.
10 years ago today, I was in New Orleans and there was an accident back home that took the life of a really amazing guy. A true BFF. He was a wise, old heart wrapped in a wildly energetic body.
When I got pregnant in January, and i first looked at the pregnancy wheel, I thought for sure our son would be born on October 17th.
I'm glad he wasn't.
He's nobody's replacement, he's got his own life to live.
Secondly, I'm not down with celebrating Ocotber 17th. I'll celebrate the boy/man that fell that day in '97 - all the things he stood for, his generous spirit, witty ways, all I learned from him... but I'm glad it ended up that we don't have to celebrate this day.
Besides, I can't imagine having had to wait this much longer to meet our little boy.
10 years ago today, I was in New Orleans and there was an accident back home that took the life of a really amazing guy. A true BFF. He was a wise, old heart wrapped in a wildly energetic body.
When I got pregnant in January, and i first looked at the pregnancy wheel, I thought for sure our son would be born on October 17th.
I'm glad he wasn't.
He's nobody's replacement, he's got his own life to live.
Secondly, I'm not down with celebrating Ocotber 17th. I'll celebrate the boy/man that fell that day in '97 - all the things he stood for, his generous spirit, witty ways, all I learned from him... but I'm glad it ended up that we don't have to celebrate this day.
Besides, I can't imagine having had to wait this much longer to meet our little boy.
Postpartum
Today I had my first, serious postpartum crying jags.
Yes, plural.
One was during the day when I was here by myself, and one when kt came home from work. (I'm not counting the tearing up that occurred when I was on the phone with Lissa, or the NEAR-tearing up when i was on the phone with Web.)
I'm tired and overwhelmed and (honestly)
a little bored all at once.
The kid is fantastic: latching, eating, pooping, peeing, sleeping; even if that sleeping thing only happens for 1-3 hrs at a time (and that 3 hour scenario is rare and unpredictable).
The ICU nurse in me is not dead. I want constant bio-feedback: heart rate, resp rate, temperature, detailed and accurate I and O's. The crunchy, earth-mother in me wants some other feedback entirely: a serene and knowing gaze, a giggle, proof of some kind of deeper understanding... from a 19 day old???
What am i psychotic???
My biggest problem is that I'm having trouble staying in the present. Things are great, but what if they're not... I've lost weight but what if I balloon up in a few weeks. He seems so perfect and healthy, what if something happens... Very fatalistic and un-Zen.
I'm blaming the crying on the hormones. But I think more outdoor walking and perhaps some Yoga is called for. After spending the last 10 months surrendering to my body during pregnancy, I seem to have slipped right back into "my mind." In case you've never seen it up close, the immediate postpartum period is not exactly an intellectual endeavour, so my first order of business is to try and stay IN MY BODY for at least a few more weeks.
Yes, plural.
One was during the day when I was here by myself, and one when kt came home from work. (I'm not counting the tearing up that occurred when I was on the phone with Lissa, or the NEAR-tearing up when i was on the phone with Web.)
I'm tired and overwhelmed and (honestly)
a little bored all at once.
The kid is fantastic: latching, eating, pooping, peeing, sleeping; even if that sleeping thing only happens for 1-3 hrs at a time (and that 3 hour scenario is rare and unpredictable).
The ICU nurse in me is not dead. I want constant bio-feedback: heart rate, resp rate, temperature, detailed and accurate I and O's. The crunchy, earth-mother in me wants some other feedback entirely: a serene and knowing gaze, a giggle, proof of some kind of deeper understanding... from a 19 day old???
What am i psychotic???
My biggest problem is that I'm having trouble staying in the present. Things are great, but what if they're not... I've lost weight but what if I balloon up in a few weeks. He seems so perfect and healthy, what if something happens... Very fatalistic and un-Zen.
I'm blaming the crying on the hormones. But I think more outdoor walking and perhaps some Yoga is called for. After spending the last 10 months surrendering to my body during pregnancy, I seem to have slipped right back into "my mind." In case you've never seen it up close, the immediate postpartum period is not exactly an intellectual endeavour, so my first order of business is to try and stay IN MY BODY for at least a few more weeks.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Church
When I was growing up, I was one of those kids (read: "dork") who loved church. I loved the sitting, kneeling, praying; the folding your hands and pondering quietly; the reciting of the mass, etc. I felt safe there and it made sense to me. I bought into it all hook, line, and sinker.
I understood what they meant when they said that "Jesus Christ was 100% human and 100% God." When I prayed to Jesus as a child and as an adolescent, I knew that he had walked the same path I was walking on earth, and I knew he had felt the sometimes insignificant (in an eternal sense) pains and dramas of trying to be a good person. The lessons of the church never felt oppressive to me. If it was an indoctrination, it was very peaceful and agreeable to me. It made perfect sense for example that God could be one, singular entity; but also equal parts of a trinity. It was not confusing to me that communion wasn't merely a symbolic representation of life-giving bread, but transubstantiation that made body and blood of bread and wine. (I was on board with all of that and with the fact that we didn't believe in Magic, and we didn't believe in cannibalism.) Furthermore, I loved the singing and the sitting together with my family for an hour a week, dedicated to some ideas that were bigger and longer-lasting than our human existence.
When I was in college, I attended the Jesuit Church on campus regularly. Going to church at home became a little harder as I started to notice how sexist some of the rituals were. I didn't like how often politics seemed to creep into mass. There was one deacon at my family's church who rarely gave a sermon about feeding the poor, nursing the sick, or volunteerism as a way to wage war on earth in God's name, but he never failed to mention abortion... outlawing abortion... and birth control was also always on his mind. At school, though, the Jesuits kept me in touch with my pal Jesus and his father, God. They focused on the message of living a good life on earth for not only heavenly rewards, but also the benefits uniquely tied to that type of simple living. My boyfriend and I would go to 10pm mass on Sunday nights and leave feeling full of gratitude, rejuvenated and ready to face another week of work and classes.
When I graduated from college things were spinning a little out of control for me. I realized that despite the love I had for my sweet, amazing boyfriend, I really was drawn and attracted to women. The trusting relationship I had developed with God lent to quite a bit of praying about what to do. The interesting thing was, my prayer revealed very different answers than the Roman Catholic Church was teaching. I knew inside myself that love was love. I had a well- developed conscience. I knew right from wrong. And after talking it over with God, it felt more wrong to lie, try to change myself, or "settle" than it did to "choose the homosexual lifestyle."
At that point in my life, I had the humility to accept that my decisions might be wrong in the eyes of God or my church or society. But if I was going to be this introspective and hard on myself, I felt the leaders of church and state must also be in touch with the limits of their "knowledge" of what God might believe. To barrow the words of Anne Lemott, "You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image, when it turns out that God hates all the same people that you do." At a certain point, I acknowledged to myself, there was no (wo)man or bishop, or human ruler that could truthfully know God's opinion and I would not tolerate a religious or secular leader that was unwilling to entertain that perspective.
Then all the stuff unfolded about hundreds of pedophile priests... and then somewhere in there, my best friend dies. At that point I'm ready to walk away from church because it is just too much. Too much compromise on my part. Too much dishonesty and hypocrisy on their part. Too much following ceremony and tradition (not because it feels right inside myself) but because it is easier to fake it, go thru the motions, not question the reason, not upset the apple cart. But I feel too "catholic" (and frankly too tired) to look for another church.
Then I meet Katy. And 2 things happen. The first is that, I find someone that I really want to create a family with. And the second is, when I take her to my family's church, it is so offensive- so thundering with the ways that we will never be accepted there. It was as if sitting there by myself, all the little ways the church "did not agree with" or "did not support" it's gay parishioners went completely unnoticed by me. I didn't mind much if they were talking about (or just ignoring) me. But when they were doing it to her- it really pissed me off- and it seemed so loud and intentional.
If this was the "one true church" as I had been taught to believe, then I didn't need church- I decided I wouldn't do that to my (future) family. Still, cutting church out of my life left me feeling empty- shouldn't you go and commune with good people for an hour or so a week to recharge your spiritual self before facing the next week's toils?
Katy and I tried to reconcile this and found a church to marry in. It was important to me that God be invited to that party. But this also marked the beginning of a different kind of struggle between 2 parts of me. Should I really leave the church- my church... my family's church because of their stance on "gay issues"? vs. How do I ask my wife to give these people the time of day? What is good for a little girl (an assumed straight girl) is not good for her adult self, her wife, or her planned but unborn children.
It is still an unresolved struggle. There is a part of me that wants to meet my family at church on Sunday... wants to go to coffee with them after mass, wants to be the same religion they are, wants to teach my son about the sacraments and communion. There's a part of me that just can't quite figure out how to handle communion: Is it their communion to give to me- and therefore I should follow their rules? Or is it my communion - a sacrament and gift that God gave me? Out of respect for my loved ones and for God, should partake when "the Eucharist" is blessed and offered to me? When I go back to my family's church for weddings and funerals? Or should I refuse? If I abstain, is it because I am rejecting the RCChurch or because they are rejecting me??? Do you see what a quandary I'm in?
For the last few years, Katy and I have been attending a Unitarian Universalist Church. A church we loved instantly. We walked into this church thinking it was a congregational church we might "try out," and we've returned nearly every Sunday for three years.
This UU has much more "God language" than many UU's (which is something that is important to me.) And has a wonderful female minister that brings tears to our eyes nearly every week with her humility and poignant directives to BE BETTER humans and HELP one another and FORGIVE your enemies and yourselves, and to follow a great and amazingly difficult commandment to LOVE.
Love.
Sounds simple, right? It's only simple, if it's half-assed. (The minister's sentiment, my curse word added for emphasis.) Love, if it's done right is a life long endeavor... Love yourself so you can live a healthy, productive existence and so you can take care of those around you. Love others- if you dare- because shouldn't we be living in less isolation with more frequent communion?!? This is the first church Katy has ever known- the first church she has loved. This church has all ready seen us through some hard times. The time we were pregnant and a few days later we weren't. The time we thought our relationship was falling apart. The several weeks after our friends were attacked and killed in their home. This summer, after that sad event- when I was 8,9, then 10 months pregnant- our minister, not knowing much of anything about us, not knowing what we were going through, led us in this benediction at the end of every church service:
Go out into the world in peace.
Have courage.
Hold onto what is good.
Return to no person evil for evil.
Strengthen the fainthearted.
Support the weak.
Help the suffering.
Honor all beings.
We had said those words so many times before, but everything was different now. During those weeks, Katy tried to hold herself together, tried to go to work in the blinding absence of her boss; tried to hold patients up as they fell apart; tried to prepare for the birth of our baby in this new world. On Sundays we stood stunned, numb, full of grief, fear, uncertainty, and very pregnant. I stood there with Katy- whose boss's wife and daughters had just been murdered, week after week we continued reciting that benediction. It took 6 weeks before my voice stopped cracking during "hold on to what is good". It took at least that long before I could get out a whispered version of: "return to no person evil for evil" without tears falling out of my eyes. And that's when I turned to Katy and said that I was finally ready to "sign the membership book." (She wanted to sign 3 years ago after about 2 Sunday services.)
The thing is, that benediction is what has been guiding me though the simple questions in life... Should I really be speeding up to the assh8le who cut me off on the highway just to offer him a dirty look? The concepts work, for the most part within the construct of daily annoyances, and hard times. But when you brush up against some example of real evil- how you react to it (even if only in the quiet of your heart) matters. And when you choose a spiritual leader, you'd better choose one with values you can lean on- that make sense to you. This benediction is only one part of the reason we love this church. These words cut to the meat of how I want to live my life. And if this is what it means to be a Unitarian Universalist, than I guess that is what I am. It is very much in line with what I need and what I believe.
So we joined. And when JB was born they announced it in the service and in the bulletin. And when they plan the Christmas nativity at our church, they ask the most recently born child (male or female) to play the part of baby Jesus. And if that baby happens to have been born to a couple of lesbians... everyone there seems to get kind of an excited glimmer in their eyes about it!
I understood what they meant when they said that "Jesus Christ was 100% human and 100% God." When I prayed to Jesus as a child and as an adolescent, I knew that he had walked the same path I was walking on earth, and I knew he had felt the sometimes insignificant (in an eternal sense) pains and dramas of trying to be a good person. The lessons of the church never felt oppressive to me. If it was an indoctrination, it was very peaceful and agreeable to me. It made perfect sense for example that God could be one, singular entity; but also equal parts of a trinity. It was not confusing to me that communion wasn't merely a symbolic representation of life-giving bread, but transubstantiation that made body and blood of bread and wine. (I was on board with all of that and with the fact that we didn't believe in Magic, and we didn't believe in cannibalism.) Furthermore, I loved the singing and the sitting together with my family for an hour a week, dedicated to some ideas that were bigger and longer-lasting than our human existence.
When I was in college, I attended the Jesuit Church on campus regularly. Going to church at home became a little harder as I started to notice how sexist some of the rituals were. I didn't like how often politics seemed to creep into mass. There was one deacon at my family's church who rarely gave a sermon about feeding the poor, nursing the sick, or volunteerism as a way to wage war on earth in God's name, but he never failed to mention abortion... outlawing abortion... and birth control was also always on his mind. At school, though, the Jesuits kept me in touch with my pal Jesus and his father, God. They focused on the message of living a good life on earth for not only heavenly rewards, but also the benefits uniquely tied to that type of simple living. My boyfriend and I would go to 10pm mass on Sunday nights and leave feeling full of gratitude, rejuvenated and ready to face another week of work and classes.
When I graduated from college things were spinning a little out of control for me. I realized that despite the love I had for my sweet, amazing boyfriend, I really was drawn and attracted to women. The trusting relationship I had developed with God lent to quite a bit of praying about what to do. The interesting thing was, my prayer revealed very different answers than the Roman Catholic Church was teaching. I knew inside myself that love was love. I had a well- developed conscience. I knew right from wrong. And after talking it over with God, it felt more wrong to lie, try to change myself, or "settle" than it did to "choose the homosexual lifestyle."
At that point in my life, I had the humility to accept that my decisions might be wrong in the eyes of God or my church or society. But if I was going to be this introspective and hard on myself, I felt the leaders of church and state must also be in touch with the limits of their "knowledge" of what God might believe. To barrow the words of Anne Lemott, "You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image, when it turns out that God hates all the same people that you do." At a certain point, I acknowledged to myself, there was no (wo)man or bishop, or human ruler that could truthfully know God's opinion and I would not tolerate a religious or secular leader that was unwilling to entertain that perspective.
Then all the stuff unfolded about hundreds of pedophile priests... and then somewhere in there, my best friend dies. At that point I'm ready to walk away from church because it is just too much. Too much compromise on my part. Too much dishonesty and hypocrisy on their part. Too much following ceremony and tradition (not because it feels right inside myself) but because it is easier to fake it, go thru the motions, not question the reason, not upset the apple cart. But I feel too "catholic" (and frankly too tired) to look for another church.
Then I meet Katy. And 2 things happen. The first is that, I find someone that I really want to create a family with. And the second is, when I take her to my family's church, it is so offensive- so thundering with the ways that we will never be accepted there. It was as if sitting there by myself, all the little ways the church "did not agree with" or "did not support" it's gay parishioners went completely unnoticed by me. I didn't mind much if they were talking about (or just ignoring) me. But when they were doing it to her- it really pissed me off- and it seemed so loud and intentional.
If this was the "one true church" as I had been taught to believe, then I didn't need church- I decided I wouldn't do that to my (future) family. Still, cutting church out of my life left me feeling empty- shouldn't you go and commune with good people for an hour or so a week to recharge your spiritual self before facing the next week's toils?
Katy and I tried to reconcile this and found a church to marry in. It was important to me that God be invited to that party. But this also marked the beginning of a different kind of struggle between 2 parts of me. Should I really leave the church- my church... my family's church because of their stance on "gay issues"? vs. How do I ask my wife to give these people the time of day? What is good for a little girl (an assumed straight girl) is not good for her adult self, her wife, or her planned but unborn children.
It is still an unresolved struggle. There is a part of me that wants to meet my family at church on Sunday... wants to go to coffee with them after mass, wants to be the same religion they are, wants to teach my son about the sacraments and communion. There's a part of me that just can't quite figure out how to handle communion: Is it their communion to give to me- and therefore I should follow their rules? Or is it my communion - a sacrament and gift that God gave me? Out of respect for my loved ones and for God, should partake when "the Eucharist" is blessed and offered to me? When I go back to my family's church for weddings and funerals? Or should I refuse? If I abstain, is it because I am rejecting the RCChurch or because they are rejecting me??? Do you see what a quandary I'm in?
For the last few years, Katy and I have been attending a Unitarian Universalist Church. A church we loved instantly. We walked into this church thinking it was a congregational church we might "try out," and we've returned nearly every Sunday for three years.
This UU has much more "God language" than many UU's (which is something that is important to me.) And has a wonderful female minister that brings tears to our eyes nearly every week with her humility and poignant directives to BE BETTER humans and HELP one another and FORGIVE your enemies and yourselves, and to follow a great and amazingly difficult commandment to LOVE.
Love.
Sounds simple, right? It's only simple, if it's half-assed. (The minister's sentiment, my curse word added for emphasis.) Love, if it's done right is a life long endeavor... Love yourself so you can live a healthy, productive existence and so you can take care of those around you. Love others- if you dare- because shouldn't we be living in less isolation with more frequent communion?!? This is the first church Katy has ever known- the first church she has loved. This church has all ready seen us through some hard times. The time we were pregnant and a few days later we weren't. The time we thought our relationship was falling apart. The several weeks after our friends were attacked and killed in their home. This summer, after that sad event- when I was 8,9, then 10 months pregnant- our minister, not knowing much of anything about us, not knowing what we were going through, led us in this benediction at the end of every church service:
Go out into the world in peace.
Have courage.
Hold onto what is good.
Return to no person evil for evil.
Strengthen the fainthearted.
Support the weak.
Help the suffering.
Honor all beings.
We had said those words so many times before, but everything was different now. During those weeks, Katy tried to hold herself together, tried to go to work in the blinding absence of her boss; tried to hold patients up as they fell apart; tried to prepare for the birth of our baby in this new world. On Sundays we stood stunned, numb, full of grief, fear, uncertainty, and very pregnant. I stood there with Katy- whose boss's wife and daughters had just been murdered, week after week we continued reciting that benediction. It took 6 weeks before my voice stopped cracking during "hold on to what is good". It took at least that long before I could get out a whispered version of: "return to no person evil for evil" without tears falling out of my eyes. And that's when I turned to Katy and said that I was finally ready to "sign the membership book." (She wanted to sign 3 years ago after about 2 Sunday services.)
The thing is, that benediction is what has been guiding me though the simple questions in life... Should I really be speeding up to the assh8le who cut me off on the highway just to offer him a dirty look? The concepts work, for the most part within the construct of daily annoyances, and hard times. But when you brush up against some example of real evil- how you react to it (even if only in the quiet of your heart) matters. And when you choose a spiritual leader, you'd better choose one with values you can lean on- that make sense to you. This benediction is only one part of the reason we love this church. These words cut to the meat of how I want to live my life. And if this is what it means to be a Unitarian Universalist, than I guess that is what I am. It is very much in line with what I need and what I believe.
So we joined. And when JB was born they announced it in the service and in the bulletin. And when they plan the Christmas nativity at our church, they ask the most recently born child (male or female) to play the part of baby Jesus. And if that baby happens to have been born to a couple of lesbians... everyone there seems to get kind of an excited glimmer in their eyes about it!
Mama goes back to work
So, today ends our "Just be home the 3 of us and ignore the outside world." Kt started back to work. We are lucky that she is able to go back to a reduced schedule for a while, but that's 3 days in the middle of the week where her focus has to be atleast a little on getting enough sleep, keeping a schedule, and taking care of primary care patients who have lost their beloved doctor due to an unimaginable tragedy. Her job has become about trying to independently coordinate the care of extremely complicated patients, and trying to help hold together a practice that is under a lot of strain. It is right that she should be back there doing her part ASAP, but it was nice to have 2 long weeks pretending that we were independently wealthy...
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Pregnacy Ticker
It's still there, because I don't know how to take it down yet... Also, because I can't decide if I want to put up a "This is how old your baby is" ticker - I'm not sure I like the concept of counting UP the way I liked the concept of counting DOWN.
But, it makes me laugh to look over and have the pregnancy ticker say to me, "Take heart- on average babies are born 8 days late..." since my baby was born 14 days early!
I'm not going to lie, I had my heart set on an October baby, but I can't image having to have waited 2 more weeks to meet our little guy- we wouldn't have realized it, but that would have been heartbreaking!
But, it makes me laugh to look over and have the pregnancy ticker say to me, "Take heart- on average babies are born 8 days late..." since my baby was born 14 days early!
I'm not going to lie, I had my heart set on an October baby, but I can't image having to have waited 2 more weeks to meet our little guy- we wouldn't have realized it, but that would have been heartbreaking!
Off with the button into the bath
So, this is old news to us, but last week, what was left of JB's umbilical cord fell off.
It was 6:23pm on October 5th- almost exactly one week after he was born (for the memory-challenged, he was born at 6:24pm on Sept 28th.) We thought that was a little weird- the correlation of time down to the minute. Taking into account the fact that time is relative (most especially in a sleep deprived existence) and all digital clocks are not running on one specific time... I mean, how do we know that the O.R. clock was set correctly anyway?!? Probably my cell phone is kept more exact by it's satellite/GPS connection than the wind up clock at Catholic Urban Hospital's Operating room suite. But anyway, we must all learn to deal with such imperfections.
The important thing is that the cutie-pie that can now be submerged completely in water - now that the opening into his abdomen has sealed over... and boy, did he love it!!!
By the way, if you want to keep yourself up late one night, totally freaked out about embryology and the nature of how/why we as human animals survive, consider this: All fetal life is sustained by the placenta and the umbilical cord until BIRTH. Whether by vaginal delivery or by planned or emergent c-section, once the baby is outside of the mother's body, the cord is clamped and cut and we all know what happens on the outside of the infants body: the cord shrivels up and falls off within a week or two, creating the kind of gross* but endearing reminder that we were all once tethered to and birthed out by our moms.
But guess what happens on the inside of the baby. That umbilical cord that has been the only source of blood to and from the heart and lungs, liver and kidneys, also just DRIES UP... Once you start breathing air, your circulatory system changes entirely, the umbilical cord inside the baby...
It.
Just.
Closes.
Off.
Disappears...
Chew on that, friends...
Ponder that a little and tell me it doesn't keep you up late at night wondering!
Tell me that doesn't make you want to offer a little prayer to the great designer in the heavens!
*While we recognize and acknowledge the symbolic, stupefying wonder of them, Katy and I are not fans of belly buttons in general. The only person I willingly let touch mine was Mackenzie when she stuck a tiny finger in there to point to where her baby cousin was. And somehow during our relationship, without meaning to, I taught my wife to be grossed out by "buttons" as well.
It was 6:23pm on October 5th- almost exactly one week after he was born (for the memory-challenged, he was born at 6:24pm on Sept 28th.) We thought that was a little weird- the correlation of time down to the minute. Taking into account the fact that time is relative (most especially in a sleep deprived existence) and all digital clocks are not running on one specific time... I mean, how do we know that the O.R. clock was set correctly anyway?!? Probably my cell phone is kept more exact by it's satellite/GPS connection than the wind up clock at Catholic Urban Hospital's Operating room suite. But anyway, we must all learn to deal with such imperfections.
The important thing is that the cutie-pie that can now be submerged completely in water - now that the opening into his abdomen has sealed over... and boy, did he love it!!!
By the way, if you want to keep yourself up late one night, totally freaked out about embryology and the nature of how/why we as human animals survive, consider this: All fetal life is sustained by the placenta and the umbilical cord until BIRTH. Whether by vaginal delivery or by planned or emergent c-section, once the baby is outside of the mother's body, the cord is clamped and cut and we all know what happens on the outside of the infants body: the cord shrivels up and falls off within a week or two, creating the kind of gross* but endearing reminder that we were all once tethered to and birthed out by our moms.
But guess what happens on the inside of the baby. That umbilical cord that has been the only source of blood to and from the heart and lungs, liver and kidneys, also just DRIES UP... Once you start breathing air, your circulatory system changes entirely, the umbilical cord inside the baby...
It.
Just.
Closes.
Off.
Disappears...
Chew on that, friends...
Ponder that a little and tell me it doesn't keep you up late at night wondering!
Tell me that doesn't make you want to offer a little prayer to the great designer in the heavens!
*While we recognize and acknowledge the symbolic, stupefying wonder of them, Katy and I are not fans of belly buttons in general. The only person I willingly let touch mine was Mackenzie when she stuck a tiny finger in there to point to where her baby cousin was. And somehow during our relationship, without meaning to, I taught my wife to be grossed out by "buttons" as well.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
PS
I'm not sure why I didn't put this together before, but do you know our baby was due to arrive on... Wait for it...
National Coming Out Day!!!
No kidding. Isn't that a little hilarious.
Ellen came out 10 years ago in May. On the same day, I came out to my parents. I didn't plan that, it just sort of happened. I had been needing to tell them for some time and the "coming out" was promo'd in the press, so it was sort of on everyone's mind.
My folks actually "guessed" my news- after seeing my face- all stressed out and determined to confess important news. They made a mental leap to the biggest things they could imagine:
"Are you okay?"
"Did something happen?"
"Are you pregnant?" and then dad said, "Are you coming out?"
That guy is such a kidder, but that's how that went... "Um, yes, actually... I am."
Anyway, I'm gonna go call my sister and make sure she knows her kid came out on National Coming Out Day!
Strong work, everyone!
New NIECE
It's a baby girl!!!
(Well, we knew that. But She's out and healthy and PINK and perfect.)
Cameron Philicity
6 lbs, 6 oz
19 inches long
Born: October 11th around 8am (I never did get the exact time)
Baby, Momma, Daddy, and Big Sister are doing just great!
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Tomorrow: Another big day
It's Wednesday, day 12 PJB (post JB)... Things are going well.
The kid demands the boob at all hours without any regularity, but I love it! I love him, not the necessarily the constant demanding of my boob for utilitarian purpose.
Tomorrow we head to "City-That-I-work-In" at the crack's crack to await the arrival of and welcome JB's new cousin and Mac's new sister into the world.
SIDE NOTE: Tomorrow is also my cousin's birthday, so the day has all ready been marked as a BIRTH day of awesome people! (shout out: Happy B-day, Gregger.)
My sister's c-section is scheduled for 7:30am so I hope that
a) we get a little bit of sleep tonight,
b) we arrive at the hospital on time,
c) all goes well and my baby sister is well taken care of during the entire event.
These are poignant, heart-stirring days.
The kid demands the boob at all hours without any regularity, but I love it! I love him, not the necessarily the constant demanding of my boob for utilitarian purpose.
Tomorrow we head to "City-That-I-work-In" at the crack's crack to await the arrival of and welcome JB's new cousin and Mac's new sister into the world.
SIDE NOTE: Tomorrow is also my cousin's birthday, so the day has all ready been marked as a BIRTH day of awesome people! (shout out: Happy B-day, Gregger.)
My sister's c-section is scheduled for 7:30am so I hope that
a) we get a little bit of sleep tonight,
b) we arrive at the hospital on time,
c) all goes well and my baby sister is well taken care of during the entire event.
These are poignant, heart-stirring days.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Totally Blissed Out
We seriously have the cutest son.
I just can't stop looking at him.
Maybe if there were more blemishes on his face... or if he had a squarer head, or if he were more jaundiced with a larger nose, or if he was hairier, or if his features weren't so ADORABLE... Maybe then I'd be more humble. But really, check it out:
Go ahead, click on that photo...
It's hard not to gloat!
All kidding aside, I am full, satiated, bursting with happiness and gratitude. I am in love and feeling free. I am achy and tired and crampy but hardly notice these things (maybe it's the percocet.) This is summer at the beach. This is staying up late to play poker with peeps and an outdoor concert with no mosquitos. This is expensive, dark chocolate and camping in autumn; a fourth of july picnic and gathering 'round a fire with no where else to be in a snow storm.
This is the bomb.
I just can't stop looking at him.
Maybe if there were more blemishes on his face... or if he had a squarer head, or if he were more jaundiced with a larger nose, or if he was hairier, or if his features weren't so ADORABLE... Maybe then I'd be more humble. But really, check it out:
Go ahead, click on that photo...
It's hard not to gloat!
All kidding aside, I am full, satiated, bursting with happiness and gratitude. I am in love and feeling free. I am achy and tired and crampy but hardly notice these things (maybe it's the percocet.) This is summer at the beach. This is staying up late to play poker with peeps and an outdoor concert with no mosquitos. This is expensive, dark chocolate and camping in autumn; a fourth of july picnic and gathering 'round a fire with no where else to be in a snow storm.
This is the bomb.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Engorgement
Does anyone need any breast milk?!?
Seriously.
Is there anyone out there that could use a helping hand in the supply department???
I have all the breast milk that I need. JB can not spend this allowance. At this point, he is to breast milk what Warren Buffett's kids are to trust fund and philanthropic living.
The breast (literally) overfloweth. I would say I've got it coming out of every orifice, but I know that's not true- that's what's so amazing- it is coming out of these few little, tiny orifices and it is leaking everywhere!!!
Yesterday was harrowing. My boobies about doubled in size. Lot's of pain, I tell you! I mean, we were already living in a Double D situation.
Everyone said this was coming, but to see it is something quite informative. By the way, who are these women that get implants this large? Do they have to pass a mental health assessment before surgery? I doubt it, but I hope it is true.
So, today, the kid and i figured out how to get him to drain the girls. It usually involves me doing a little "pre-pumping" to alleviate the pressure so he can get to the nipple, but the last few times, he has been able to latch on without the pre-pump.
Yesterday (and again today) I gave the lo-tech, hospital, give-a-way, hand pump a rest, and hooked myself up to our very expensive, brand new electric breast pump. I suggest, at least once in your life, you hook yourself up BILATERALLY to an electronic breast pump. If you don't say, "Moo" out loud at least once during the process, the synapses are not firing in your brain.
It was an emergency and I had to get some of that milk out, but until time and efficiency become a factor, I doubt I will do the simultaneous "double boobie pump" again for a while. One reason is that I have so much milk, that 3 to 5 minutes on each side gives the boy and his family enough milk for a future feeding. The other reason is, well, isn't it obvious... making yourself "Moo" is not cool- especially if there are no intoxicants or hallucinogens involved.
But to be honest, I think I have a little crush on my breast pump. She's low maintenance. She's shiny and new. She's easy to use. She's been very good to me so far!
Since we've earned a "too much information" label with this post, I'll just add this: I had my first BM yesterday too. If you've ever had a baby, loved a woman that has had a baby, or experienced abdominal surgery first hand, you know that your first BM is a momentous occassion. Lots of medical providers can't wait for this to happen- they will ask every 2 to 4 hours if it has happened yet. They will also warn you, educate you, prepare you for the ways it might work out and/or the complications that may evolve if it doesn't work itself out. You can't know this (because I haven't written "The birth story" out yet) but I was NPO for most of the 6 days I was at the hospital, and didn't go number-two even one time in that entire stay.
(scene opens in our house, yesterday morning)
t: I got the deal done.
k: Good for you. How'd it go?
t: Let's just say, I'm a little uncomfortable knowing that was something I ate over a week ago.
k: At least the trains are back on schedule...
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
We're HOME...
First things first...
Dear anonymous: Here's your first g-d pic of my living room!!! Sorry I've been a little distracted to keep you in the loop on furniture and design changes.
Maybe if you ever update your blog again, I'll add another view! (oops, while I was away, I guess you posted half the number of posts you managed in the last 6 months ... good for you!) Well, the "new living room" only looked complete once we added that little swaddled throw pillow yesterday anyway!
Secondly, is it possible that when i said, "wish me luck" at my next prenatal appointment, you were all wishing that I would come home with a baby and not focusing on wishing that I wasn't experiencing PIH?!? Evidently, I was pre-eclamptic... Hmmm. Please note: all the fears listed here actually came true, and it has still been the best week of my life.
Lastly, There are many posts in my heart and my mind and on the tip of mytongue typing fingers, but now I'm in baby and boobie-breast-feeding land. I will write out our birth story in good time and try to keep you in the loop. But I am home, and doing great, and soooooo in love... with my wife and our life and our peeps and our son- we are very lucky and taking the time to try to enjoy every minute of this!
Dear anonymous: Here's your first g-d pic of my living room!!! Sorry I've been a little distracted to keep you in the loop on furniture and design changes.
Maybe if you ever update your blog again, I'll add another view! (oops, while I was away, I guess you posted half the number of posts you managed in the last 6 months ... good for you!) Well, the "new living room" only looked complete once we added that little swaddled throw pillow yesterday anyway!
Secondly, is it possible that when i said, "wish me luck" at my next prenatal appointment, you were all wishing that I would come home with a baby and not focusing on wishing that I wasn't experiencing PIH?!? Evidently, I was pre-eclamptic... Hmmm. Please note: all the fears listed here actually came true, and it has still been the best week of my life.
Lastly, There are many posts in my heart and my mind and on the tip of my
Monday, October 01, 2007
8lbs9oz
Hilarious, detailed posts to come when Tracy is home and re-attached to her computer, but until then, some pics of JB's first day.
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