So, the baby is six months old now.
It's hard to believe. The time has gone by in a wink.
August was born April 25th. A boy. 7 lbs, 11 oz.
He is beautiful, cheerful, soft, fleshy, crafty. A big, healthy boy.
He loves fabric, things that crinkle, soft books.
He likes it when we sing to him, and we do ALL THE TIME. We narrate our whole existence with songs. "Let's change your diaper" "Who's that cute cute baby?" "Going to see Nana" "Oh, the bunnies"...there's a whole catalog of 'em.
We still don't sleep well. More precisely, I don't sleep well because August likes to eat and we haven't had the stones to sleep train him. I think because James read something that said if he cries too much he could get brain damage. We know that he's not in the danger zone of damage from too much crying, but really almost any crying would represent a sea change from Augie's mostly sunny personality, so why risk it? We know, we know, it's just going to get harder the older he gets. We'll get on that soon, really we will.
Right now he's taking an afternoon snooze right next to me on the bed. Life is crazy, busy, exhausting, I feel harried, hurried, ragged, but I have never been happier in my life.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
The Wait
Well, here we are, 38 weeks - full term!
My new mantra is "I could go at any time" a la Leonardo Di Caprio's character in What's Eating Gilbert Grape?
James and I have been trying to pack in lots of things we won't be able to do for a while–go to the movies, play poker, go see some shows.
Our pantry is stocked, the laundry is done, the baby's room is ready. We've got our hospital bags in the car, complete with snacks. Our gas tanks are full. The car seats are installed. We have diapers, wipes, burp cloths, a swaddler.
We have not whittled our name list down, but we have lots of options - Smoky, Danube, Rockstar, Fanwell, Delicia... nah, just kidding.
I am alternately very excited and gushy about meeting Boots and vaguely anxious about what lies between now and then. There will be pain, and I am trying to be zen about that. Pain with a purpose. Punctuated pain. Finite pain. If it gets to be way too much, I'll get some relief. One lesson about pregnancy and childbirth, which I imagine is good prep for parenthood, is that you just don't know exactly what lies ahead, and you can get ready, but it ultimately it will be what it is. It's out of your hands.
My new mantra is "I could go at any time" a la Leonardo Di Caprio's character in What's Eating Gilbert Grape?
James and I have been trying to pack in lots of things we won't be able to do for a while–go to the movies, play poker, go see some shows.
Our pantry is stocked, the laundry is done, the baby's room is ready. We've got our hospital bags in the car, complete with snacks. Our gas tanks are full. The car seats are installed. We have diapers, wipes, burp cloths, a swaddler.
We have not whittled our name list down, but we have lots of options - Smoky, Danube, Rockstar, Fanwell, Delicia... nah, just kidding.
I am alternately very excited and gushy about meeting Boots and vaguely anxious about what lies between now and then. There will be pain, and I am trying to be zen about that. Pain with a purpose. Punctuated pain. Finite pain. If it gets to be way too much, I'll get some relief. One lesson about pregnancy and childbirth, which I imagine is good prep for parenthood, is that you just don't know exactly what lies ahead, and you can get ready, but it ultimately it will be what it is. It's out of your hands.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Peek-A-Boo
T - 3.5 weeks
This morning was the weekly non-stress test which showed the baby's heartbeat and movement, and it all looked fine, which was a big relief after the slight stress of last week. As I was pulling out of the parking garage though, my OB nurse called and said that my fundus measurement hasn't changed in 3 weeks and I haven't gained any weight, so they wanted to send me for an ultrasound to make sure there was enough amniotic fluid. I made an appointment for 3 pm and went grocery shopping. I tried to stock up on food we could enjoy post-baby, just in case.
As I pushed the grocery cart around, I thought, "Today is a perfectly ok day to have a baby." For some reason, last week was not ok, but now I feel like we're so close that it would be ok. We've really gotten as ready as we can.
James and I tried not to get nervous about it, but we packed our bags just in case, and treated it like a test run. Pretty soon, we were there, looking at Boots on the screen. It's really a baby in there! We saw a profile and hands and a tummy and feet. We saw the baby's mouth moving as though it were talking (I guess it was swallowing amniotic fluid, which I must admit, I didn't realize it did). The technician said the fluid was fine. She said everything looked great. Boots is all upside down and happy. She even showed me how Boots was positioned so I understand where the little feet are kicking me.
It was really cool to see the baby - and we STILL don't know the sex! I thought it would be a dead giveaway today, but neither of us even saw that part of the baby. It was very reassuring to have two different techs say everything looked fine. They measured a bunch of stuff and told us that the baby weighs about 7 lbs at this point. So no birth today, but I feel more ready than ever.
This morning was the weekly non-stress test which showed the baby's heartbeat and movement, and it all looked fine, which was a big relief after the slight stress of last week. As I was pulling out of the parking garage though, my OB nurse called and said that my fundus measurement hasn't changed in 3 weeks and I haven't gained any weight, so they wanted to send me for an ultrasound to make sure there was enough amniotic fluid. I made an appointment for 3 pm and went grocery shopping. I tried to stock up on food we could enjoy post-baby, just in case.
As I pushed the grocery cart around, I thought, "Today is a perfectly ok day to have a baby." For some reason, last week was not ok, but now I feel like we're so close that it would be ok. We've really gotten as ready as we can.
James and I tried not to get nervous about it, but we packed our bags just in case, and treated it like a test run. Pretty soon, we were there, looking at Boots on the screen. It's really a baby in there! We saw a profile and hands and a tummy and feet. We saw the baby's mouth moving as though it were talking (I guess it was swallowing amniotic fluid, which I must admit, I didn't realize it did). The technician said the fluid was fine. She said everything looked great. Boots is all upside down and happy. She even showed me how Boots was positioned so I understand where the little feet are kicking me.
It was really cool to see the baby - and we STILL don't know the sex! I thought it would be a dead giveaway today, but neither of us even saw that part of the baby. It was very reassuring to have two different techs say everything looked fine. They measured a bunch of stuff and told us that the baby weighs about 7 lbs at this point. So no birth today, but I feel more ready than ever.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Getting Closer
36 Weeks!
I can't believe it's been over a month since I've posted...we've been swirling around, trying to take care of stuff - hypernesting, I guess.
We took a childbirth class, which was informative and actually made me feel much more open-minded toward natural childbirth, due to some inherent physiological benefits for both me and the baby.
On the first day of class we passed around a plush placenta and umbilical cord. It was the sort of thing you hand off to the next person as fast as you can while trying not to seem panicky. We also watched a LOT of birthing films, which I can firmly say did NOT help my process at all. James said they were helpful for him, because he got to see a range of how people go through labor, so I'm glad he benefited. I guess I'm just not the sort of person that has to see many heads coming out of many vaginas in order to feel ready. I also don't particularly need to hear how various women moan or grunt - perhaps it's my Catholic roots, maybe I'm more private, but it just made me uncomfortable. Yee. In most cases, I'm a visual learner, but this is not one of them. Shake it off, shake it off...
We also took an Infant CPR class, which was helpful, although the teacher was a retired state cop whose brand of humor was to throw the baby mannequin around like a football, and tell one of the dads to "go deep" to catch it. Har har - not that funny to nervous parents-to-be.
We've managed to get the nursery decked out - crib, changing table, soft carpet and lots of supplies. My family gave us a baby shower, and we got tons of adorable, soft things for Boots. I immediately washed everything with baby smelling laundry wash and spent a solid hour folding the tiny onesies, gowns, and pjs. It made me very excited for Boots' arrival.
We're looking for a doula for both birth and post partum - realizing we could use some support on both fronts. We're also going to follow up on offers from friends and family. It's amazing how much stuff you need to plan when you have no clue what it's going to be like on the other side.
Now that I'm 4 weeks out, my OB has begun non-stress fetal monitoring. They check Boots' heartbeat and movements once a week for 20 minutes. At the first appointment, Boots (amazingly) wasn't moving around much, and the nurse and tech seemed to be getting concerned. I told them that the baby is never very active around 10 am. They had me drink some cold water to get the baby moving. Boots remained quiet. They said that if the baby didn't get moving they'd have to send me for an ultrasound. I said that's fine, but I'm not having a baby today. They gave me cold water and a snack. One thing I felt clear about was that the baby was fine. It was an interesting moment, because I think it's the first time I really felt like a mom. Like I know my kid. My kid is quiet in the morning, and then kicks me all afternoon and evening, so 15 minutes of slow activity a monitor in the morning is not going to convince me that we need to spring into urgent medical action. Not when I can hear the heartbeat. If they had said let's send you for an ultrasound, I would have said, "let me go get some juice and walk around for 5 minutes and try again."
There is so much fear associated with childbirth - fear of pain, fear of the unknown, fear for a fragile human being. And initially, I felt that I'll just go along with whatever most people do to have a baby in terms of having an epidural or a C-section... I mean, people do it all the time, and it works out fine, and anyway I don't like being in pain. Now that I've learned more, I realize I want to try to have a natural childbirth, and it's perfectly ok for me to advocate for myself - ask for more time, ask what the risks are of any given thing, even ask for a different nurse if I don't feel comfortable with the current one. I have a say in how things go, I'm the one that's going to be doing the heavy lifting after all.
I can't believe it's been over a month since I've posted...we've been swirling around, trying to take care of stuff - hypernesting, I guess.
We took a childbirth class, which was informative and actually made me feel much more open-minded toward natural childbirth, due to some inherent physiological benefits for both me and the baby.
On the first day of class we passed around a plush placenta and umbilical cord. It was the sort of thing you hand off to the next person as fast as you can while trying not to seem panicky. We also watched a LOT of birthing films, which I can firmly say did NOT help my process at all. James said they were helpful for him, because he got to see a range of how people go through labor, so I'm glad he benefited. I guess I'm just not the sort of person that has to see many heads coming out of many vaginas in order to feel ready. I also don't particularly need to hear how various women moan or grunt - perhaps it's my Catholic roots, maybe I'm more private, but it just made me uncomfortable. Yee. In most cases, I'm a visual learner, but this is not one of them. Shake it off, shake it off...
We also took an Infant CPR class, which was helpful, although the teacher was a retired state cop whose brand of humor was to throw the baby mannequin around like a football, and tell one of the dads to "go deep" to catch it. Har har - not that funny to nervous parents-to-be.
We've managed to get the nursery decked out - crib, changing table, soft carpet and lots of supplies. My family gave us a baby shower, and we got tons of adorable, soft things for Boots. I immediately washed everything with baby smelling laundry wash and spent a solid hour folding the tiny onesies, gowns, and pjs. It made me very excited for Boots' arrival.
We're looking for a doula for both birth and post partum - realizing we could use some support on both fronts. We're also going to follow up on offers from friends and family. It's amazing how much stuff you need to plan when you have no clue what it's going to be like on the other side.
Now that I'm 4 weeks out, my OB has begun non-stress fetal monitoring. They check Boots' heartbeat and movements once a week for 20 minutes. At the first appointment, Boots (amazingly) wasn't moving around much, and the nurse and tech seemed to be getting concerned. I told them that the baby is never very active around 10 am. They had me drink some cold water to get the baby moving. Boots remained quiet. They said that if the baby didn't get moving they'd have to send me for an ultrasound. I said that's fine, but I'm not having a baby today. They gave me cold water and a snack. One thing I felt clear about was that the baby was fine. It was an interesting moment, because I think it's the first time I really felt like a mom. Like I know my kid. My kid is quiet in the morning, and then kicks me all afternoon and evening, so 15 minutes of slow activity a monitor in the morning is not going to convince me that we need to spring into urgent medical action. Not when I can hear the heartbeat. If they had said let's send you for an ultrasound, I would have said, "let me go get some juice and walk around for 5 minutes and try again."
There is so much fear associated with childbirth - fear of pain, fear of the unknown, fear for a fragile human being. And initially, I felt that I'll just go along with whatever most people do to have a baby in terms of having an epidural or a C-section... I mean, people do it all the time, and it works out fine, and anyway I don't like being in pain. Now that I've learned more, I realize I want to try to have a natural childbirth, and it's perfectly ok for me to advocate for myself - ask for more time, ask what the risks are of any given thing, even ask for a different nurse if I don't feel comfortable with the current one. I have a say in how things go, I'm the one that's going to be doing the heavy lifting after all.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Have Bun, Will Travel
James and I just returned from a week in California. It was rainy and in the 50s all week, but we didn't care, it's still warmer than Boston, and there are flowers, and we didn't have to walk gingerly over the ice every time we went outside.
Being on a plane was a little tweakworthy. We boarded our flight out of Boston. The plane taxied out and then an announcement was made that the water pump was broken and they needed to pull back into the gate and have it fixed. It really only was going to affect our ability to drink coffee - no biggie. Everyone can stay right on the plane. So, an hour later, they had fixed it, and we pulled back out and got in line to take off. Then they discovered that there was a problem with the fuel pump. Hmm. Sorry, ladies and gentlemen, got to pull the plane back into the gate and have it repaired while you relax in your seats. This gave me extra time to review the safety instructions and memorize the number of rows between me and the exit.
Another hour later, the fuel pump was good to go, and we taxied out again. This time, the pilot said that another problem had arisen and that he had requested another plane. He grumbled about cutbacks, which made me feel a little less annoyed about the whole situation. So the plane pulled back to the gate, we all got off, then waited another 45 minutes while they got another plane and everyone re-boarded. Not exceptionally confidence-inspiring. To take the sting out of the 3 hour wait, we got free headphones for the movie and a complimentary bagel. We found out later that there was a problem with the engine.
Pregnant women are much more likely to have blood clots, so I did what the doctor said: I wore compression stockings and I got up every 45 minutes and walked up and down the aisles. I also drank a boatload of water. And a breezy 9 hours after we boarded the initial plane, we were in San Francisco.
We had a great week - we relaxed, ate well, visited a bunch of friends, and went to a beautiful wedding in the hills of Berkeley.
Being on a plane was a little tweakworthy. We boarded our flight out of Boston. The plane taxied out and then an announcement was made that the water pump was broken and they needed to pull back into the gate and have it fixed. It really only was going to affect our ability to drink coffee - no biggie. Everyone can stay right on the plane. So, an hour later, they had fixed it, and we pulled back out and got in line to take off. Then they discovered that there was a problem with the fuel pump. Hmm. Sorry, ladies and gentlemen, got to pull the plane back into the gate and have it repaired while you relax in your seats. This gave me extra time to review the safety instructions and memorize the number of rows between me and the exit.
Another hour later, the fuel pump was good to go, and we taxied out again. This time, the pilot said that another problem had arisen and that he had requested another plane. He grumbled about cutbacks, which made me feel a little less annoyed about the whole situation. So the plane pulled back to the gate, we all got off, then waited another 45 minutes while they got another plane and everyone re-boarded. Not exceptionally confidence-inspiring. To take the sting out of the 3 hour wait, we got free headphones for the movie and a complimentary bagel. We found out later that there was a problem with the engine.
Pregnant women are much more likely to have blood clots, so I did what the doctor said: I wore compression stockings and I got up every 45 minutes and walked up and down the aisles. I also drank a boatload of water. And a breezy 9 hours after we boarded the initial plane, we were in San Francisco.
We had a great week - we relaxed, ate well, visited a bunch of friends, and went to a beautiful wedding in the hills of Berkeley.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Sneeze Whiz
Just a short comment about the rather personal scenario of peeing a little bit every time I sneeze. It doesn't matter if I have literally just exited the bathroom, it happens every time. And I am a pretty allergic person, so I sneeze a fair amount. Last night I sneezed three times at Whole Foods and worried through the remainder of my grocery shopping whether it was visible. This does not fit under the category of feeling a little bit sexy. It has the effect of shooting me backward in time to the self-consciousness of elementary school, where bodily functions are mysterious and something to be ashamed of. When I worked for ZOOM, the single most common fear that children wrote letters about was peeing one's own pants. I guess they're right about parenthood - it brings you back to being a kid.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Pink vs. Blue
27 weeks, and I have been feeling GREAT. As I told James, I feel "Lucky, special, and kind of sexy." There are even moments when I forget I'm pregnant. Then I drop something and try to bend over and get it. Ho ho ho. James called me his porpoise yesterday, which under normal circumstances I might have taken offense to, but I do in fact somewhat resemble a porpoise these days, and nighttime is kind of like a show at Sea World, only the water is a down comforter. He pointed out that porpoises are smart and friendly and smooth. I said it's ok, as long as he doesn't call me a whale.
Boots is active - every couple of hours, there is a round of swirling and kicking. And in the last couple of days, there are hiccups. Dr. Groszmann says that hiccups are a sign of good neural development, so we find ourselves hoping for hiccups.
Emotionally, I alternate between feeling calm, happy, excited, and grounded and vaguely worried. I think I'm getting the nesting thing the last few days. I have been working on the baby's room and trying to figure out what we need besides a crib and diapers. The other day I was at CVS and some baby soap and lotion caught my eye and reminded me that we will need to wash the baby. It's this sort of revelation that makes me a little uneasy, not that the baby needs care, but that these things are just occurring to me. Like the other day, when I realized that when I'm at the hospital, I will have the baby, and from there on out the baby is in our charge. Holy cats.
So, about color... the baby's room is pink. And it will be pink. Even if it's a boy. I do not believe that if it IS a boy that our boy will struggle with his identity because he slept in a pink room as a very small child. I am just writing this down because I do feel a slight bit of guilt about this, and yet I think it's ridiculous. Why are boys and girls things so specifically different? I remember when my niece was small, my sister was driven crazy by pink clothing.
But the pink clothing doesn't drive me nearly as nuts as some of the boys stuff - tractors, trucks, deer, etc., like young boys are being subliminally trained to be public works employees, not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just, why not books, art, and musical notes? What about boyhood equals large equipment? Then again, I know for a fact that some of that is hard-wired. My friend Graham, who is 3 years old, was offered to choose a toy for himself from a whole wall of toys, and he immediately and with laser-like focus chose a fire engine from probably 35 options. Absolutely no question. And his parents are arty, funky, sensitive, modern individuals. So maybe I'm just fooling myself. Maybe I'll have a boy that wears nothing but blue and brown. Maybe I can just think of it as robin's egg and bark.
Anyone that knows me knows that I adore color - I want a piece of clothing in every shade...and then I organize it by color group, so that when I look into my cabinet, it's a beautiful rainbow. BUT, I fear the beautiful rainbow of toys that will fill our home. Primary colors are so often garish. Yech. That's something I shall certainly have to let go of, lest I turn into Mommie Dearest. ("Christopher, Christina, what did Mommy say? No more primary colors! Now organize your toys as I have taught you, and don't let me catch you with that hideous xylophone again!"
At any rate, the room's not pink like bubble gum, it's pink like the inside of a shell. Light, subtle pink with a just a breath of peach in it. Jamie and my brother Bill picked the color for me, back when it was my room.
Boots is active - every couple of hours, there is a round of swirling and kicking. And in the last couple of days, there are hiccups. Dr. Groszmann says that hiccups are a sign of good neural development, so we find ourselves hoping for hiccups.
Emotionally, I alternate between feeling calm, happy, excited, and grounded and vaguely worried. I think I'm getting the nesting thing the last few days. I have been working on the baby's room and trying to figure out what we need besides a crib and diapers. The other day I was at CVS and some baby soap and lotion caught my eye and reminded me that we will need to wash the baby. It's this sort of revelation that makes me a little uneasy, not that the baby needs care, but that these things are just occurring to me. Like the other day, when I realized that when I'm at the hospital, I will have the baby, and from there on out the baby is in our charge. Holy cats.
So, about color... the baby's room is pink. And it will be pink. Even if it's a boy. I do not believe that if it IS a boy that our boy will struggle with his identity because he slept in a pink room as a very small child. I am just writing this down because I do feel a slight bit of guilt about this, and yet I think it's ridiculous. Why are boys and girls things so specifically different? I remember when my niece was small, my sister was driven crazy by pink clothing.
But the pink clothing doesn't drive me nearly as nuts as some of the boys stuff - tractors, trucks, deer, etc., like young boys are being subliminally trained to be public works employees, not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just, why not books, art, and musical notes? What about boyhood equals large equipment? Then again, I know for a fact that some of that is hard-wired. My friend Graham, who is 3 years old, was offered to choose a toy for himself from a whole wall of toys, and he immediately and with laser-like focus chose a fire engine from probably 35 options. Absolutely no question. And his parents are arty, funky, sensitive, modern individuals. So maybe I'm just fooling myself. Maybe I'll have a boy that wears nothing but blue and brown. Maybe I can just think of it as robin's egg and bark.
Anyone that knows me knows that I adore color - I want a piece of clothing in every shade...and then I organize it by color group, so that when I look into my cabinet, it's a beautiful rainbow. BUT, I fear the beautiful rainbow of toys that will fill our home. Primary colors are so often garish. Yech. That's something I shall certainly have to let go of, lest I turn into Mommie Dearest. ("Christopher, Christina, what did Mommy say? No more primary colors! Now organize your toys as I have taught you, and don't let me catch you with that hideous xylophone again!"
At any rate, the room's not pink like bubble gum, it's pink like the inside of a shell. Light, subtle pink with a just a breath of peach in it. Jamie and my brother Bill picked the color for me, back when it was my room.
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