Post #88

New Year; new website. You can find me on WordPress from now on! WordPress is apparently the place to be if you're a blogger, so... you can find me here. Keep reading!

Book Worms

I love books. I couldn't live without books. If there was one thing in my life that I knew wouldn't change when I had a baby, it was my reading habits. Sure, for a while there I couldn't read as much, but I think I would have gotten a lot more sleep when Walt was a newborn if I hadn't read (or been OCD about cleaning the house). I think my love of books is why I majored in history - certainly wasn't the job opportunities!

One of many things I love about my baby boy is that when I read to him, he sits in my lap, stares at the pages, and when I read the words and look at him, he smiles and giggles back at me. I swear he has already inherited my love of reading (Dave is a reader as well). And it's not just the words. It's the actual pages, something you can seriously dig into, a world you can literally hold in your hand. The feel of the book changes the reading experience.

In my house, my two favorite things to look at are my pictures and my library. 

This year I have read 28 books (23 novels and 5 non-fiction). I am currently re-reading Doomsday Book for a book club and Fall of Giants (a Ken Follett novel) is sitting on my nightstand started but unfinished. I started writing down the books I read in the middle of 2005. I also save my favorite quotes from each book in a file on my computer. On my past two Christmas cards (my only two Christmas cards!) I included a favorites list so those near and dear can know where Dave's and my book life has taken us. I keep trying to start a book club with friends, and I think 2013 is the year to accomplish that.

I hope the New Year brings us all many glad tidings of joy.

“‘Dear God,’ she prayed, ‘let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry…have too much to eat. Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere – be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost’” (A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, 421). 

Christmas Presence

Christmas is a time filled with such good feelings that I'm always a little sad when it's over. It won't be back for another year!

I didn't watch most of my favorite Christmas movies this year before Christmas. Therefore I've been cramming them in the past few days. The other night I put on The Family Man and left the den for a minute to get some work done on my computer. When I came back in, Dave said, "You're really funny putting on your Christmas movies and then leaving the room. Last night in bed you put on Miracle on 34th Street and promptly fell asleep. When I finally turned off the movie about an hour later, you woke up and said, 'I'm so excited.'"

Dave: What about?
Me: What? What did I say?
Dave: You said you were excited. What are you excited about?
Me: January 7th
Dave: What? January 7th? Why are you excited about January 7th?
Me: Downton Abbey returns
Dave: You are funny
Me: I think I should go back to sleep

A friend of my mother's gave us this beautiful, homemade raspberry jam (yum!) and a plant for Christmas. Now, I normally kill plants. Or at least I did until Dave showed me how to properly plant them outside so they'll live. But this one is an indoor plant. It needs warmth, sunlight, and just the right amount of water. A recipe for disaster. Well, this plant must have come from the Little Shop of Horrors. Despite my lack of watering skills (I've killed a cactus before) this thing has exploded in the last week or so. I think I can see it growing before my very eyes. There was no flower bud when we got it, now there is one 2 feet tall that bends in whatever direction the sunlight is, then at night straightens up again. I'm pretty sure in a couple days we'll hear a small "Feed me!" and the cat will be missing.

Happy Boxing Day

I sure loved giving out our presents this year! And Santa was good to us too!

Walt's first Christmas: couldn't even stay awake long enough to open all his gifts!

 

One happy family. 

If a party falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it...

It is a crazy foggy night in Atlanta this Christmas Eve. Difficult to drive around, and after some holiday egg nog you better watch out. It's kinda awesome though driving by the lit up houses... you can't see anything and then boom all of a sudden there are Christmas decorations! Some more tasteful than others of course.

The Christmas Eve candlelit service at Morningside Presbyterian was gorgeous as usual. Moving, beautiful, well put together, and it really got me into the spirit of the holiday. It truly is a day about Jesus being born, and what he was about to do to the world, the peace he would inspire in everyone, rather than gifts and gifts and gifts... I guess they symbolize the gift that was given to us when Jesus came to be, but that might be stretching it. A prophecy, a birth... and after having given birth myself it makes it that much more meaningful. I can imagine Mary, instead of in a hospital, in a cold barn laboring...

It is chaos not only on the streets but in stores this past week. I go to do some regular shopping at Kroger or Target and wow what is everyone else in the neighborhood, and several adjoining ones, doing there at the same time as me? I ran out of light brown sugar making my pecan pie today and I run to the store for some last minute items and I see People Magazine featuring the 26 faces of Newtown and then I'm holding back tears in the checkout line on Christmas Eve, and... we aren't just isolated humanoid collections of atoms. We are so much more than that, and no one man will make or break us. I think even Jesus would agree with that.

Merry Christmas. Share some joy and love in this beautiful and fragile world. You never know how many chances you'll get.

Mama vs. The Laundry

There must be some laundry demon living in my washing machine. Or the dryer. Maybe he likes it hot; I've heard some do. In all my favorite shirts I get tiny holes on the bottom of the front. I never understood why this was. Once I asked my grandmother and she suggested that it is because I lean against the counter. I considered that to be an intuitive proposal. I have yet to come up with an experiment to test her theory, but I do like leaning against counters. However, I want to and will continue to blame the laundry demon. He's the one who also steals one out of a pair of socks. Or makes me forget to take my cute wool sweaters out of the load to lay them flat to dry. I even think he makes the baby throw up on all our clothes so our newly cleaned things are constantly dirty. His worst trick is when I take the laundry all warm and dry out of the dryer and then he makes it cold and damp when I'm ready to fold everything.

Can't blame him for all the cat hair on everything though.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve! Let the festivities begin!

Apocalypse Revisited

The wind whips through the bare winter trees. The morning light and shadows play through the window shades. The wooden Christmas wreath bangs against the our living room window. The baby smiles.

"Is today the apocalypse? But it doesn't feel like the apocalypse." - David

Most of us don't believe the world will end in a blaze of glory (at least not today), but maybe these theories get popular because we're a doomsday type of people. It's not hard to believe given the mayhem we see in the news every day. For the people who die, is it not an apocalypse of one, at least?

Reflections

My grandma is not doing well physically, mentally, or spiritually. She is not a spiritual woman, but I am talking about her spirit. Since her first stroke last year, and then after the one she had a few weeks ago, she has seemed depressed. Not surprising for someone who is 89 and in ailing health, but also hard to watch. Maybe if she was a spiritual woman this time in her life would be easier for her. Maybe all the difficult times in all our lives would be easier if we relied more on our spiritual communities to see us through the mire. If we turned to a peaceful and loving spirit (whether it be Jesus, Buddha, etc.) to guide us. However, I don't like seeing this in my grandma for several reasons. First, it is painful to watch someone you love and like be hurting. I don't want her to die, and I don't want to see her cry when I ask her how she is doing. Second, it is difficult to watch someone who has lived a long and fruitful life, surrounded by family who loves her, to be so upset about the inevitable. This is true especially in light of the events on Friday. Twenty beautiful children shot to death before they had a chance to do so very many things in life. Parents who dropped their kids off at school who didn't live to eat lunch that day. No less sad are the six young women, women with families, women about to retire, who had so much ahead of them in their lives too. It's enough to make me walk around afraid of death, afraid of strangers, afraid of the every day unknowns that can strike us any time. Random acts of violence are the counterparts to random acts of kindness. And it seems like I hear so much more often about violence. It is not just the murderous rampages of a few individuals, but the daily violent minutia that gets to me too. The little unkindnesses we show each other all the time. The yelling, the hate, the abuse, the violence, the discrimination, the judgement... etc, etc, etc, all the vices and sin Pandora let out of her box. It makes me think, which is worse? One person killing 27 people, or 27 people each killing someone? For goodness sakes, we don't have to want to kill someone to have it happen. We can get in our cars while drinking or texting and next thing you know, an accident happens. People are much more likely to die in an accident than by homicide, but we don't stop driving our cars or taking the risks that seem to make life more fun, and this is if we even all assume that death is the worst possible outcome. And then if you are being truly honest, it's not accidents or violence that really kills people, it's what we do to ourselves: drinking, smoking, eating, not exercising... We are our own worst enemy, as the saying goes. And we certainly don't fear food or sitting inside on the couch. Well, most of us don't. But in society, what you often see come to the surface are the things that cause us fear. Because fear is very powerful. Are fear and pleasure the yin and yang that dominate our lives - and thus our politics? 

It is the hope and amazement I feel when I see my child smile or do something new that makes my world a better place. I might be a new parent, but I feel like I've known and loved my son my entire life. And I think that is what hurts us all so much about Sandy Hook. That man tried to kill our hope and amazement in the world. He took what was precious and destroyed it. It didn't just destroy those families but a little piece (and peace) in all of us, because we all understand the innocence, hope, imagination, and possibilities that childhood represents. And when something that disgusting happens, we just can't believe it. Adults may fight, you can be in the wrong place at the wrong time, someone may do someone else wrong, but children? Really? Why would someone be so cruel?

The only thing left for us to do is to help, to forgive, to keep believing we can all change the world for the better, and to keep it moving. No one is immune from tragedy. But what is different in all of us is what we do in the face of tragedy. We can stay the same, we can lament and vicariously judge the evil in the world, or we can take one more giant step in the evolution of ourselves.

Christmas Christmas Everywhere

We mailed out our Christmas cards yesterday. I love mailing out cards. A) because it's snail mail, which everyone loves to get if it's not a bill or some ad (why do people still spend money on that) and 2) because I get to unleash my inner creative in a mass mailing to all friends and family. Every major event is worthy of being noted in this way. And I only get better at it. In fact, people tell me that I could make money with my card designs. The funny thing is, I've had a creative design business for over a year, and I've only gotten a few takers! Companies like Shutterfly have me beat with ease of use, etc. But, I'm cheaper. And a small, local business. I do like Shutterfly though. Great product. Maybe next year I'll send out some flyer reminding people of my awesomeness and they'll flock to my website and beg me to design their personalized Christmas card/birth announcement/wedding thank yous... You name it, I'm interested in spending time on it.

Luckily, even though I'm a full time mama, my good friend Leslie has me working for her too. Strangely enough I like working on trucking compliance. You'd think it might be boring, but there is never-ending work for it. And I like knowing that I'm working in the same field as my husband (he does commercial transportation insurance... so he works with the truckers too but in a very different context. An unfortunate business; people just believe that if they've hit a truck they've won the lottery).

Anyway, I love all things Christmas. The bright lights, the red and green decorations, the present giving (this year I put a lot of thought into the few gifts I got people), the food, the family time, the cold weather (finally!). And of course, shooing away the cat from the tree unless she looks like this:

Christmas Kitty

Irrational 3am Thoughts

Like maybe there will be a day again where I will sleep longer than 4 hours straight.

I had 28 years of unappreciated, glorious sleep.

And to think, this is only the beginning of my childbearing years.

Good thing my boy is so cute!

Ask & Ye Shall Receive

Dave and I were decorating the Christmas tree last night, and I was talking to him about getting Walter a baby's first Christmas ornament. I am a very sentimental person, especially with personalized items, mementos, photographs and such. I said we had three options: we could make one, we could buy one, or we could wait and see if someone gives us one. I am a very crafty person, so the idea of making one was appealing. We made clay foot and hand prints already (no, it was not frustrating trying to get a 3 1/2 month old to cooperate with us, the wet clay, and the vision I had), but they were way too heavy to hang on a Douglas Fir branch. As I was looking at my own ornaments I made as a child, I was very excited to make such things with Walter.

It was a beautiful night, we had wrapped up with the house decorations, and Dave went outside to enjoy the stillness. He brought back inside a package addressed to Master Walter Warford. It was small. Dave asked me if I thought it might contain the very object I had been asking for. Upon opening it, it was a very lovely silver ornament expressing the very memory I wanted to keep! How thoughtful of the universe to put that idea in a generous friend's head! And to get it on the night we were decorating the tree... well, that's just what the Christmas spirit is all about.

Detouring today on the way home from picking up our Christmas cards, I saw we have a very small, very religious university right here in our neighborhood. I told Walter that he could go to elementary, high school, and college all within walking distance of our house. I think he was grateful that he was asleep and didn't hear my suggestion.

My two handsome men

I'd like a ham sandwich please

This kid already knows when the camera is pointed at him. If it's video he stops immediately whatever cute thing he was doing and just stares straight into the lens. If it's a camera, well, he still just stares right at it. And it eats him up! What is it about kids and technology these days? I'm convinced he's going to be building his first computer before he's five. And do we stop them? Do we inhibit this new evolution of mankind? Is it evolution or just addiction? What is a computer anyway? Or the internet? It wasn't so long ago we existed without these things. And for a very long time too. Now we can't imagine going a day without our smart phones...

Dust Wars

Katherine vs. the dust. I like to think, when I've just cleaned something, that it will stay clean for a long time. And somehow it is disappointing each time. I have the same illusions when I fill up my gas tank or when I've just bagged a lawn's worth of leaves. It seems like I've done such a good job that it'll be that way for good. But oh, the dust. It's not seasonal. It's not dependent on how often I drive. It's forever. And it always wins.

Never-ending battles seem to be my forte lately. Or maybe ironic check payments. Example one: this year I decide to be unnervingly prompt with Frances' rabies tax (um, we pay to get them vaccinated and then have to pay the government for it as well? I've actually gotten a call before saying I'd have law enforcement after me if I didn't pay my cat tax), and, well, he dies that night. As if my cat passing away wasn't hard enough, I'm out an extra ten bucks (let alone the fact that he had an extra expensive well visit two days earlier and they said he looked just great).

And then there's Walt's birth certificate. They got my birth date wrong. On the back it gives instructions on how to make corrections. This includes getting a notary public to witness Dave's and my signatures as well as sending original documents stating my birth date. Since I don't feel particularly good about sending in my drivers license or passport, I thought I would get my birth certificate from my mother. As anyone with a newborn knows, this rigamaroll is the last thing on my to-do list and it takes me a while to accomplish it. However, I decide to call in last minute and ask if I really need to send in my birth certificate or if a copy will do. The guy has the audacity to tell me that since I waited an extra couple of weeks instead of sending it right back in with the typo that they'll have to charge me extra to fix the problem. As in more than it took to get the two copies in the first place. I sent the stuff in without any money attached and a nice post-it note saying I'd like my baby's birth certificate fixed.

If you were worried that was it, you don't have to be.

My OB/Gyn, two-thirds of the way through my pregnancy, decided to start sending my lab work to an out-of-network provider. Even after I told them not to. So I've been calling the OB, the lab, and my insurance to work all this out. A lot. Round and round we go, who will help Katherine with this problem? Finally I talk to a sane person at the insurance company. But they still need to do some investigation. After a couple more weeks of this, some rejections and more investigation pending, I decide to send in the d*mn check anyway today, thinking if this, by some miracle, gets worked out, they can reimburse me. Well, of course the insurance company calls this afternoon and tells me that they've readjusted some claims and I owe less money. I run to the mailbox and what do you know, this is the one day the mailman came early.

Ten years already?

I keep having zombie apocalypse dreams. Last night included a ghost train that ran through our safety house. I was also worried about the dessert supply (we had to buy our own goods from the store still). As if running from the zombies wasn't exhausting enough.

Friday was my ten year Marist reunion. Dave was worried he wouldn't know anyone there except me and Jason, but I kept telling him he would know the same people I did. I enjoyed catching up with my friends, but I'm not sure I talked to anyone that I didn't talk to in high school. If I did it was awkward and short. What do you say, "Hello. We never talked when given a six-year chance, why don't we correct that in the next three hours? Let me buy you a glass of wine. Oh yes, that's right, it's open bar." Though I did convince one guy that he shouldn't use the title "dictator" when he attempted to take over the world. I told him I'd help him.

Next time I'm planning the reunion. I see it including some media, games, kids, better food, and tables and chairs. I'm tired of the popular kids telling us how things are going to go. For goodness sakes it's been ten years already.

Walt's First Thanksgiving

He slept ten hours straight last night. Then, when he ate for an hour and was still wide awake (even after falling asleep while nursing), and I put him in his bed anyway (cause unless something is wrong I only stay up with him for an hour during the night), he was quiet and put himself back to sleep for two more hours without making a peep!

I'm pretty sure that was Walt's way of saying: "I'm thankful for you, mommy. I love you."

Politeness is a Virtue

One of my favorite things about Frances was that before he would come inside the house, he would always pause to clean his claws on the welcome mat.

Last night at 3:30am instead of either eating or sleeping, the only two things I would find acceptable at that hour, Walter was staring at me and smiling and sticking out his tongue. Cute; the boy knows how to work his audience!

I've forgotten how much longer it takes my bath towel to dry in the cold winter rather than the hot summer. Sad.

Another thing I will greatly miss is that Frances would follow us down the street meowing at us to come back when Dave and I would go for a walk.

Sunday Evening Thoughts

Today at Costco this big lady rushes past me, Dave and baby shouting "Hey Walter!" and Dave and I look at each other confused and surprised until we see the sample guy with the name tag "Walter" peddling his goods next to us.

The weekend has gone wonderfully despite the death in our little family. That and my family has to convince me that overcooked pork and undercooked vegetables suffices as a decent meal. It never works out for me when I just throw things into a casserole dish and put it in the oven hoping it'll all come together perfectly. Or the crockpot. I have to have a decent recipe to make that device work.

It is inevitable that when I put on a coat or a pair of pants that hasn't been washed in awhile that I will find at least one tissue in one pocket... does this happen to anyone else? I'd like to blame this on winter-time but David would disagree. I blame instead the nose job I had as a 16 year old which left my nose health in shambles ever since.

My father in law likes reading my blog because he finds the in-person Katherine to be a little different (or a little less revealing) than blogger Katherine. I think this is always true when I write. I have some friends I've been completely different with via email and it is so much easier to write certain things down than to have to live them face-to-face. This is compounded by the internet being a haven for publicly shared private information. Perceived anonymity that is completely false.

I'm glad I'm not pregnant anymore so I can enjoy a glass of wine or two. That, a puzzle, a fire, and a movie with David is my idea of a good date night. Yes, we were already totally boring and ready to have children before we did.

Efficiency Mode

A term coined by David to express one's state of mind when things are getting accomplished, usually at a speedy pace. It is easy to recognize in one's partner when they travel from chore to chore and you can't even ask how you can help cause then you'd be getting in the way.

I was going to write a blog about this week, how I am getting in the groove and how Walt lets me get things done during the day now. During his first nap in the morning I get ready for the day, eat breakfast, empty the dishwasher and make the bed. His afternoon nap, usually longer, provides me time to get one large chore done (or two medium ones). This can be making dinner (or banana pudding like on Wednesday) or an eventful household chore like cleaning the whole house or blowing and bagging leaves in the yard (why do we have so many oak trees on our small piece of property? I'm hoping the one large one won't drop its leaves this year or possibly they'll just disintegrate before they hit the ground).

But instead I will write about Friday evening.

David and I were getting Walt ready for bed. Everything was as it normally is and we were enjoying our time as a family (bedtime is always a fun routine with the three of us). We are dogsitting Tashi (my mother's shih tzu) this weekend and the three animals had been especially wild that day torturing each other (in between bouts of sleeping on all the surfaces in our living room of course). Walt was getting his nightly bottle - a puzzle, dinner, movie & bottle of wine waiting for us - when we heard a sharp meow from downstairs. I looked over the railing to check it out, but seeing two of the three small creatures on the landing and Frances by himself downstairs I wondered what it could have been. I called out to Frank and he didn't respond, so I stayed upstairs and went into the second bedroom to work on our Christmas card while David had some father/son time with Walt. Ironically I was writing down all the things we were thankful for in 2012 when I hear a scuffle and David shouts at me to come take Walt. I come out to the landing and David is looking at Frank huddled in the corner while the other two examine him (or bother him?) and Walt is crying in his bed. I pick up Walter, continue to feed him, and David comes in and says that Frank is acting paralyzed in his back legs. My adrenaline spikes as Frances meows and meows and David doesn't say things are getting any better. They go into the second bedroom and shut the door. Walt is full but not yet sleepy, smiling at me so it's hard to do anything else, but we go to see what's up with Frank. He's under the bed and flopping around using only his front paws and crying out every time he does it.

I finally get Walt to sleep and we find a 24 hour vet to take Frances to. He's hard to handle when he's happy so it takes a towel and some biting to get him into the carrier with him in such pain. Luckily Dave's parents were able to come over on short notice so we both could go to the vet. We get there and meanwhile Frances is shredding the carrier and while the tech examines him Frances is biting the towel and freaking out and causes his mouth to bleed. No obvious fractures and his back feet are significantly colder than his front (I felt them; they were scary cold). Diagnosis: a clot from underlying heart disease has caused paralysis. Prognosis: most likely would never be able to walk again even with significant medical intervention and care and even after that his heart would get worse, throw more clots, and he could die any time.

End result: I wish Frances was meowing at me to go outside right now, or to get out of the shower, or to hurry up and feed him... I had him for 7 1/2 years and we loved each other a lot. Not everyone understood him, but he and I were close. He was a good cat and I've been writing down all the silly things I can remember about him (I did the same for Shogo last year). I'm sad. I thought we had many more years together.

Life is short. Life is not perfect. But if we love every day together then when that final goodbye comes it's missing a good friend not regretting missed opportunities.

Snippets

We have an evil dog neighbor. Our kitchen sink window looks directly to the side of our neighbor's house and their backyard. They have two windows facing us. In the closest window, the dog - some pointer breed - will sit there, framed by the white curtains, giving you the death stare and not moving. Those types of dogs are made for the death stare. Creepy.

Watching two and a half hours of Walking Dead the other night caused me great anxiety. I spent the rest of the evening looking at our supplies of canned goods in the pantry and wondering where we could store extra water.

A couple days ago it was a Babies R Us kind of day. I met my friend at the one in Perimeter and ended up running into my aunt there. And then my aunt ran into her sister-in-law.

We've encountered our first cold. Walt has no symptoms except congestion. But what a symptom! I'm constantly worried about his ability to breathe. Luckily we have bulb syringes, saline solution, a humidifier, and lots of love on hand to combat this. Yes he cries during our mucus extraction surgeries.

He slept 9 hours straight last night! Victory is ours!

Today we're going to take our holiday photos for our Christmas card... I can't believe it's already that time of year!

An extra hour at night means nothing to a baby

My son likes to collect lint in between his fingers. We have to clean it out daily. Today was a lot.

This weekend was a great weekend despite my brother going home to Belgium! Let's see... a visit from Dave's cousin just to hold the baby, baked salmon, church, yard work, sleep, movies, puzzles, my book, extra Halloween candy: all good things.

This week should be an interesting week. An important election on Tuesday and I'm wondering how the US/world will react to either result. However, I'm more excited about my expensive Catbird Pikkolo baby carrier arriving in time to take the baby to the polls with me. I'm not sure it's going to happen though. I guess I will have to come up with an alternative. I'm wondering if a screaming baby will help move me ahead in the line come Tuesday?

Friendships post-baby

I knew my life would change, but how much I could not guess beforehand. No one knows what it is going to be like to be a parent. And every situation is different too. But no one "on the outside" can grasp what it is like to have your own child. I thought I knew what it was like, but there is just no way. And you cannot maintain the same life as you once had. Maybe some people do, but that seems unimaginable to me. Maybe it's just that I am a different person now and not much else has changed.

Friends. It's hard to stay friends with people who don't quite get you. Who live a completely different life than you do. I can't claim to have many close friends. But I considered those in my inner circle to be indefatigable. I had hoped nothing would change. For a while it was hard to even get to my phone to answer calls or texts. Now it seems like friendships are already shifting. I don't know what to do... I will always have to take care of Walter. I am lucky; I have babysitters at the tips of my fingers. But I still have to plan ahead if I want to go somewhere on my own. I enjoy bringing Walt with me, but there's bags of baby utilities to bring and naps and food to schedule around, and I am still a slave to my own body (on my bad days I would characterize it like that). Even though Walt is no longer inside of me, I am still his sole source of food. I know that could change if I buy some formula, but my body would not immediately stop producing milk even if I did that. I would get an infection if I cut him off cold turkey. So for the next year this symbiotic relationship will continue (by my choice of course).

Maybe I did have an illusion even while pregnant that nothing would change; I could just lug my baby gear around with me to hang out whenever I wanted... I could work and read and create and... well, I still will do those things. But in terms of relationships... I am lucky for the friends I do have. I am closer to some people now, I still have my true die hard friends, and my family is there for me too. They don't give the baby back when he starts crying. He is a cute crier. His bottom lip pouts out and Mr. Grumpus emerges...

I will have to wait it out. If I'm the only one who has changed, I just need to work harder at being the friend I always want to be and believe I am.

I should try to be funny in my next post. This seems heavy for a Saturday night.

Reality vs Ideal

I think this might be true of every first time parent. You believe, while you are pregnant, that you are going to be one type of parent. Then when the baby comes, it all goes out the window.

I wanted to put Walt on a strict schedule. I thought I would immediately show him the ropes by telling him when he would eat and sleep and we'd all be happier for it. Two months later, he is a demand fed baby, and I still get up with him whenever he wakes to eat. The crazy thing is, with a little patience, he is forming his own schedule. And to be honest, I've never been able to keep a schedule myself, so what made me think I could enforce one on someone else? I like that he's a flexible child. Or maybe that's just my wishful thinking. At least he's patient with me.

This week has been filled with family goodness. My cousin got married this past weekend and every day I got to enjoy the company of my extended family. The food was good and the dancing even better. My nephew Christopher is going to be a ladies man, I can tell. He had them all wrapped around his finger on the dance floor, including me. My cousin and her new husband are from NYC (well, he's from there and she lives there now), and they flew back just in time to enjoy the hurricane and lack of power/running water. How's that for a honeymoon? They intended to fly to South Africa immediately following the wedding festivities, so I'm not sure what their plans are now.

We all make plans. Ok, I make plans. Lots of them. I would be lost without my plans and to-do lists, and not everything has the option of trip insurance. But the best part of life can be deviating from said plans. The magical, unexpected moments. Or the mundane, quirky moments that keep you laughing. The trigger moments that kick your butt. The moments of swaying with the vibrations of life.

I haven't gone trick-or-treating in years. Since junior high. I stopped liking Halloween until Dave slowly introduced me to the joy of terrorizing the kids that come to our door asking for candy. When we washed his old Marine work uniform so he could wear it to scare the kiddies this year, shrapnel from when he almost got blown up in Iraq came out of the clothes. He wouldn't be my husband and Walt would never have existed if he hadn't survived that. It made me wonder, who doesn't wash their clothes for almost a decade?

This year my brother and I brought my nephew around my neighborhood dressed as a ghost. Well, the masked bad guy from Scream, but since he's 6 he thought he was just a ghost. I am still frightened by that mask. Luckily I had the capacity to remember my sweet nephew was still under there somewhere. A little boy who starts his sentences in English and finishes them in French. Because where would we be if we didn't throw our expectations out the window mid-sentence?

 

Walt was a pilot but took the nap option when it came time to go out.

Discovery

When was the last time you remembered your hands? Maybe you thought about them a little more when you got a paper cut or burned yourself or read about Aimee Copeland needing them both amputated... but I think I usually take my hands for granted. And really, I am very grateful for my hands, both in their usefulness and their beauty. But I haven't spent the time or energy getting to know them for the past 27 years like I've watched my son discover his hands the last week or so. The energy it takes for him to move his hands where he wants them, to get his fingers to cooperate, to even release his tiny (yet fierce) grip... it's astounding to be reminded of what we have to go through to become the people we do.

When I taught preschool several years ago I realized I had forgotten all we have to learn, like how to put a jacket on a hanger or which scissor holes to finger combination is most effective. I am so happy to have the chance now to watch Walt learn all this stuff, the ways we are human, the things that separate us from everyone else. I get the front row seat on his amazing journey. I am along for his ride.

In this smile I discover all that is good in the world.

Dave is watching the World Series in the next room, and my ears hurt from the cheering that's apparent all the way across the country. I think every San Francisco fan at the game is going to have laryngitis and every Tiger's fan tinnitis. At least the Cards got knocked out!

Crib Magic

I hope that writing this doesn't jinx anything. For the past three nights, Walt has slept exactly like I wanted him to... in his crib, of course. He wakes up every four hours (twice per night) to eat, then goes right back to bed. This is amazing for us. I wake up for his 2am feeding, then Dave gets up at six to feed him, put him back to bed, and get ready for work, allowing me to sleep some more. Of course, I have to get up to pump, but that alone takes much less time than nursing and pumping. Hopefully Walt likes this arrangement too until he's ready to sleep through the night completely!

It started when my mother came to spend the night. Walt had been sleeping in his crib during the day for the past two weeks (just made more since if I wanted to get chores done or use my bedroom, plus his room is so nice I was ready to use it some!). This worked out pretty great except dividing his stuff between two rooms was a little burdensome, having to switch it every morning and night. Anyway, he slept like an angel for my mother (Why is it that babies love to be so good for their grandparents? Showing off, I think). Dave and I decided to try it again the next night, since previously he had slept great til 2am then would be up every hour or two after that when he was in the pack 'n play in our room. Well, it turns out he wants a real mattress and some peace and quiet to sleep well.

We miss him!!! I have to go all the way upstairs to check on him and look at him sleeping so cutely. Petra is incredibly happy to be allowed back into our room at night (and during the day, for that matter). She lives on our bed half the time and is such a cuddle monster that she was going a little crazy being left alone outside with only Frances to console her.

We've also been very social this week, going on play dates and to grandparents' houses. He's been so good in the car and out and about that it's really exciting... though I have to remember he's still very little. Last night, after spending most of two days away from home, he was definitely over-tired. I think I'll keep him at home mostly this next week until my brother comes in town. I haven't seen David in a year and a half! He and his family live in Europe and I miss them so very much. I've only seen them once in the last 3 1/2 years since they moved back over there. Dave is 15 years older than me and always wanted to live in Europe, so it was perfect when he met his bride 10 years ago in Germany. They lived over there when they first got married, but his job back then brought him to Atlanta and the US every month. It was wonderful. I also got to visit them twice a year. Now that I have to buy my own plane tickets I haven't been able to visit in a long time. He's one of my favorite people in all the world, so it's good when we're together. I'm not sure how Walt is going to take the week-long festivities of visiting family. The first weekend he'll be at home with the Johnston grandparents (while we're at my cousin's wedding events), but then after that he's just going to have to use all his two-month's worth of coping skills to enjoy himself. It worries me because we've been creating a routine for him and he likes his crib/nursery so much... but I don't want to miss out on the opportunity to be with family.

Speaking of which, yesterday we had lunch at my mother's. Walt was with his mother, his two grandmothers, and two of his great-grandmothers all at once. I didn't even realize that til my mother pointed it out to me after everyone had left. I lamented that we hadn't taken a picture, but Dave reminded me that he thinks it's better to miss a picture opportunity if it's because you're living in the moment. I completely agree, but I like to record things so much it's hard for me to let go sometimes. I think that's why I liked studying history so much.

Carpe Diem!

4 Years

Four years ago today I met David while playing darts at the Independent. It was a night of alcohol, fun, and friendship. My life was forever altered that day... every day alters the course of our journey, but that day in particular was truly meaningful. Our wedding anniversary is in May, but I believe this is our real anniversary, because although we didn't marry each other in October, we've been committed to each other almost since the day we met.

Tonight we're celebrating by my mother night-nursing for us. I've even given her permission to use bottles so I don't have to get up when he gets up... a full night of sleep is in store! So, why am I writing my blog instead of slee

Yep

On the day my church asks me to be a deacon

I think this is the funniest and cutest picture I've seen in a long time!

Our First Outing

Yesterday I was determined to get out of the house for a fun adventure with baby and Dave. We got our next door neighbor Vicki and her daughter Abby to join us as well as Kate & Gabe. Destination: Candler Park Fall Fest

proof that we did make it out and with smiles on our faces!

We had a good time! Walt barely cried at all (a miracle since two weeks ago he would have screamed the entire time in the car and probably the whole time out too) and seemed to enjoy himself when he was awake! I know I was having fun being outdoors (what beautiful fall weather we are having in Atlanta) with my husband and baby in a social setting! We timed it right after his nap, stuffed him full of food, and off we went!
 

Another first: this morning Dave got him to giggle for the first time!!! It was like angels came down and were singing to me through the mouth of my little babe. And then I was able to get him to laugh too! Definitely the most wonderful sound in all the world.

Hello world, watch out for Walter! Here he comes!

That damn AT&T box

The little people 0, big business 1,000,000,001

We have a very beautiful, large AT&T UVerse box in our front yard. Not only is it an eyesore, but the shrubbery that used to surround it was destroyed by AT&T workers. On top of that they litter our lawn with their trash while they're working.

Luckily, my father-in-law took this on as his project to get the box taken care of for us. We either wanted money for it (they're renting our property, no? They don't have an easement for its use), or they could move it to where they did have an easement. A title lawyer has gotten involved and has been talking to the AT&T people. He even sent a surveyor to measure our property.

Today there were little posts marking the corners of our property. To my extreme dismay, the ones in the front yard were past the box. Does this mean they can leave that damn box there for all eternity and there is nothing we can do about it? This is all completely unfair.

Funny thing is, when UVerse finally came to our neighborhood about a year ago, we called them to switch our cable and get a deal... Turns out they were much higher priced than Comcast and even though their box is in our yard, they wouldn't budge on their price!

AT&T brews up torture for its clients and neighbors...

TV

I think I am a TV addict. It's disgusting, I know. At least I am still a productive, happy, interactive, book-reading, husband-loving, creative person... or so I tell myself.

My favorites, in case you are looking for something good to watch. These are all on Netflix On Demand, thank goodness. What would we do these days without instantaneous gratification?

Downton Abbey
Mad Men
Gossip Girl
Switched at Birth
Parenthood
Brothers & Sisters

Fall Days

The beginning of fall always makes me nostalgic for the fall of 2008. I remember walking the streets of Midtown on my way to class, writing poetry, the beginning of my relationship with David... but it's not nostalgia in a sad sense. It just makes every fall after that feel the sweet remembrances of that time in my life...

I took Walter on a two mile walk today. Victory! He enjoyed the car seat (BOB stroller adapter) the whole time -- thank you pacifier! He was bundled up against the chill in the air and drifted in and out of sleep while I got some much needed exercise. I miss my walks. How are there not enough hours in the day to get everything done with him that I want? Even finding time to play on his playmat seems difficult. Good thing is, I never get bored with him.

I was walking around talking to Walt about what makes up a neighborhood - houses, lawns, people, dogs, streets, sidewalks, etc. - and thinking about living in a place where everyone knew each other. I've driven through small towns in north Georgia where older people out in their front yards will wave at you simply because you're driving by. They might be waving cause they know they don't know you. They might have so few people drive by that they take the time to wave to everyone. I'm not really sure. I just know that I love that small town feel.

Yet, it took about a year before I started getting to know the people who live around us (the very nice people who live around us!), and we live in a great neighborhood near downtown Atlanta. The type of city neighborhood where people do get to know one another. What is it about me that I initially like to fly solo when I see people out and about? Or is it just the era we live in now? Too many people too close together to get involved personally?

I was thinking about all these things when a woman and her kids stopped at the intersection Walt and I were waiting at. We chatted and passed up several lights before we continued down the street (a MARTA bus even stopped to let us on). She was carrying a Gap package she found on the side of the road to the address it was destined for. She had a 9 month old and a 9 year old. She told me about the neighborhood play groups, and we chatted about our pediatrician. She's a SAHM who works part-time from home too.

Have I found a new friend?

Sleeping & Dreaming

This morning I had a very fun dream. The past few days I've pulled Walt into bed with us since he doesn't sleep very well after he wakes up to eat at 2am. At least when we co-sleep that means I get to sleep too. I worry about him cuddling next to me sometimes so I'll hold him on my chest and we'll sleep like that for a while.

At some point this morning I was dreaming... and for some reason a lot of my dreams lately are about leaving the baby. I'll have the monitor with me so I know when he wakes up, but I'll be miles away, 30 minutes away... this time I was hanging out with friends and they told me I left the baby by himself at home. I said, no, I don't think I did, because the last time I was with him we were sleeping in bed together and I was holding him. I said, I think I'm dreaming, and soon I'll wake up. I think it was Jenna who then performed a magic trick, and I knew I was in a dream. I tried sifting through the layers of dream world, and eventually the weight on my arm grew heavier, until indeed I did wake up with Walter on my chest.

I love when I know I'm dreaming in my dreams. It is a very strange feeling. It is a powerful feeling.

Boy do I like getting sleep!

Babysteps

I love the way fall smells.

Today was a a mini triumph. We had my parents over for a home cooked meal (blackened tilapia, corn, rice, green beans, salad, brownies, wine, water), and Walter was so good! He didn't cry but sat in his bouncy seat while we ate and discussed politics. Nana helped us give him a bath and now he's asleep... this is all very nice since last night was not his usual good routine. He was tired all day today because we were up way too much last night. Dave thinks it might be because he had significant lint buildup between his toes from his new sleepwear... I had to take a nap this morning. I handed the baby to Dave at 9:30 and said that I'd see him later. I didn't blink for two hours.

Thank goodness for the small milestones we reach along the journey!

Choptober

Well, that was certainly one of the most interesting date nights I could have asked for. The Braves Wild Card game was one to remember.

Besides watching Chipper Jones' last at bat ever (he got a hit!)...

Imagine 50,00+ angry fans. An umpire who can't admit that he made the worst call in baseball history.

A ball falls to the ground in the outfield, dropped in between two players, a mistake by the opponent and a rally started for our team. Cheers erupt in the stadium. Bases loaded, one out. But wait, no, our manager is out on the field arguing with the umpires. What is going on? What are they saying? The infield fly rule applies? How can that be? The ball fell in the outfield. That rule applies to fly balls in the infield. It is supposed to protect the offensive players! We don't understand. The call is not reversed. How can that be? Thousands of cans and bottles etc are thrown to the field, a call of protest from a crowd that knows better than some crazy umpire. It takes the grounds crew 30 minutes to clean up the field. The teams are ushered into the dugouts. The announcers, pleading with the stadium, go unheard amidst the booing. The guy who emcees the side games in between innings also comes on to plead with the fans. He goes unheard. They threaten that they will have to call the game if we don't stop throwing stuff onto the field.

Wild. The only way to describe it.

If you have to lose a game, that's the way to do it!

Family Happiness

Tonight's blog title is also the title of a Leo Tolstoy novella about a married couple. Young woman, older man, she thinks she wants the single city life - not the bucolic married life - and doesn't realize how unfulfilling that life is until it is too late...

Luckily this was not the case for me. When I met David, I knew he was too good to pass up. I knew this because it was the right time in my life to meet him. I was mature enough to handle a successful relationship. I had grown up through the friendships and trials of previous relationships.

And when we started hanging out, everything else in life just got better. My life seemed happier. My family seemed happier. I don't know how he affected them too -- or maybe my perception changed? I feel like I not only got a greater return on my own family, but I also inherited a brand new, very large family. The Johnstons are close knit and loyal. For instance, my mother-in-law still meets up with the girls from her Brownie troop every year for a beach vacation filled with food and gossip. Who is awesome enough to do that? I have one friend still from grammar school, two from high school, three from college...

Today my mother came over to babysit while I went to my last postnatal appointment and ran some chores. I chose an OB at North Fulton Hospital, so I won't miss the frequency of the long drive, but I do actually like the chance to get OTP. It gave me reason to make other stops like shopping at Hobby Lobby or having lunch with Jason on the way home. Once you're in the city, you're stuck. It's gotta be good to fight the connector traffic and travel on at least three highways to get somewhere. Maybe someday I'll get the chance to live in the suburbs again. I'd like to buy a big house near both my dad and Dave's parents with an in-law suite my mother can live in. Wouldn't that be nice!

Little Walter, it turns out, is a stinker who naps and plays and eats like an angel with my mother. With me? It's all fuss and games! I think that's just the way it goes with little boys, their mothers, and their nanas. I missed him. Dave and I are going to the Braves Wild Card game tomorrow night too. It is so strange to be away from my sweet son after spending the last 10 months connected to him, first in pregnancy and then in exclusive breastfeeding. Growing up certainly is a process of independence and reconnection. The older I get, the closer I want to be to my family (and really good friends) after spending years wanting to separate from them.

Dave's family all came in town for Frank's 70th and will be here again for Christmas. It is so much fun to spend time with them. My family will all be here (including the Europeans but minus Brigitte) at the end of this month. What a joy to be able to spend quality time with family! I am a lucky girl these last few days, months, years...and on into the future too.

Goodnight. It is late, my baby is sleeping, and I should be too. Even with all my fun grown up things to do. Maybe a bowl of cereal first though...

Chronicles of Synchronicity

This weekend we learned about the magic of co-sleeping. Walt had a regular nighttime routine this weekend, going to bed at 10, waking up at 2am, 5am & 7:30am. Miraculous. I would take him outside and do our normal couch routine for the first two, then at 7:30 I would make Dave change his diaper, then pull him into bed with me and use the side-lying position to nurse him, causing us all to go back to sleep. Oh, it was so wonderful. The three of us could lie there and forget about time and alarm clocks (not that little man knows about that yet), and after a little while, Dave would put Walt on his chest and we would continue sleeping -- I'm just afraid he'll smother on my boob if we slept too hard in bed together.

Then there is the joy of co-bathing! Tonight the three of us took a bath together... it was really fun with naked baby, and he had a good time. I don't know why we're teaching him to splash the water, cause when he gets bigger our clothes and floor are not going to stay dry. 

It must be the six-week growth spurt, or at least I hope so, but today was a sad day for me nursing-wise. Luckily I pumped extra ounces earlier in the day (or would they have been in my boobs otherwise?) but tonight when he wanted his big dinner, he wouldn't even latch on at all and just kept crying. It was a first for us (besides figuring out breastfeeding in the very beginning). Dave fed him a bottle and I pumped what I could. I really was almost empty. Moms are always afraid they don't have enough milk for their babies, because you can't see what they eat, and now I too will add that to my list of worries. I guess I will just have to pump whenever he is done eating. Yet I always have my hands full, and I worry that if I wait too long after he eats to pump then there won't be enough for the next time he eats. I am praying my milk supply adjusts quickly to his needs. It is a helpless feeling otherwise.

Whew. I need to outsource my worrying.

Little Feet

Oh these little feet! Oh the places they will go! (Yes, I love that Dr. Suess book). They will take my little boy on so many adventures, they will take him places he never expected to go, probably both good and bad. I look at my little Walter and I can't imagine him as a grown up, yet that is where he is headed. Every day he gets bigger and bigger. If I blink I might miss it. I look around at all the adults in the world and once they too were little infants, just hungry and sleepy and gassy, wanting to be cuddled. Were they cuddled too much? Too little? What makes us turn into the various forms of adults that populate the world? Nature and nurture. Environmental factors. Chance. Faith. Love.

I spent two hours away from my little love today to run a chore. To fix my cell phone (cause who can live without a working smart phone these days??). And when I was stuck in traffic on my way back I felt frustrated that it wasn't easy to get home. I actually was going in circles at one point, and it was funny that the harder I tried to get home it didn't matter, I ended up in the same spot. Such is life; so cyclical. We ignore the present while we are trying to be in the "now." And now is all we have, all we should want.

Now that it is getting easier at night - he only wakes up twice - we have a more pleasant time together AKA I don't want to cry from lack of sleep. But, as a good friend of mine said recently, when they stop waking up and needing you in the middle of the night, you miss them, because this special time with just the two of you is gone. Life goes by so quickly; be careful not to miss it.

I love being a mother more than even I thought I would.

Little Hands

What will these hands do and accomplish during his lifetime?

Right now they are so innocent and small... 

no flaws or scars, so little history stored in his skin...

and yet, so much love

The Mommyness of Being

It's true what they say. When you're sliding downhill, you have to hit rock bottom before you can climb your way back to the top.

Yesterday was such a day. I called my husband crying at four in the afternoon, cried until he came home, and then cried when I saw his car pull into the driveway, even though at that point Walt was asleep in my arms on the front porch swing, enjoying the cool air of Atlanta's first fall days. One would never have guessed that I had spent a trying day with him. Maybe it was the rain. Just enough rain to keep me indoors all day but not enough to be a really good rainy day. Maybe it's the fact that it's really easy to get run down, even with all the help I've been blessed with. I guess you could call me a Type A personality. Perfectionist. OCD tendencies. Many names for the same cloak. I know you're supposed to rest when you can with a newborn. But there is a house to keep clean (I have allergies so I can't ignore vacuuming). Overwhelming amounts of laundry to do (since when did a nine pound baby produce twice the amount of laundry of his parents?). Kittens to appreciate. Creative design projects to work on. Baby announcements to release to the wild. Lunch to eat. Showering. So many things I want to do...

It really wasn't even such a bad day, as far as bad days go. It's just that I was alone, all my happy little helpers either busy or out of town, all my friends at work, and Walt wasn't sleeping. He'd nap for 20 minutes then wake up fussy. I knew he was overtired. Probably overfed too since he ate every two hours or so. We weren't in a good rhythm. But I didn't know how to change it. David came home, kept Walt asleep for four hours, while I took a nap too. I think it recharged both of us.

Today Frank Sr. came over and went for a walk with me and Walt (it's Walt's one month birthday and Frank's 70th), and my dear sweet husband came home on his lunch break to check on me. What a wonderful surprise to see him walk through the door! I love that man. My aunt called to check on me since my mother is out of town. I have friends I can text. It's a blessing to know that people will rally around me when I have a bad day, if I can't pull myself up alone.

I think the thing is, you really have no idea what it will be like to be a parent until you become one. Even with all my childcare experience, it's not the same thing at all. I wrote a post several months ago about stay at home mothers, how people argue over whether it's a job... The truth is, anyone can become a parent. But not everyone can be a successful parent. It IS the hardest job in the world, but certainly the most rewarding. I will never let anyone tell me again that it isn't work, that staying home with a child is "doing nothing."

Today I feel confidence that can only be gained by experience. By experiencing the bad days and knowing that "it won't always hurt like this" (quoted from a story my mother told me last night). It will always get better. I put the baby down for two naps already today. He hasn't eaten incessantly. I am sure there will be more bad days, but one look at my son and I know it's all worth it. We're growing together, and I can't wait for all our accomplishments to come.

Breastmilk

Our little guy is growing by leaps and bounds. Is he going to turn into a little fatty? Only time will tell! He's already so strong, and so much bigger than when he came out... He looks like a real baby now instead of an elf!

Breastmilk is the miracle food that has caused this. Besides being the incredible nourisher that it is, there are other qualities that make breastmilk one of the neatest things god ever invented.

It heals.

Put breastmilk on your cracked nipples and let it dry. Put it on the scratches on baby's face from his little dagger nails that flail around. I put it on my skin and it healed much quicker. I put it on his little infected fingernail and it cleared it right up. I tried it on his baby acne and the redness went away and the bumps are almost gone.

What won't it cure? I think we should look into cancer remedies...

Dinner, thank you

So our church is kind enough to organize two weeks of dinners (MWF) for new parents... It's a lifesaver! We've had many people bring us food, and it's wonderful not have to worry about how I'm going to get to the grocery store and cook dinner for us. Walt is hardly predictable at this point! And we've had a variety I would never think of (my favorite being a delicious Italian dinner I'd like to order again! It was better than any Italian restaurant I frequent).

Last night we had some yummy tacos brought to us. The dad of the family was the deliverer, and as he handed me the bag of food, he looked at me and said, "So who had a baby?" And I was kind of surprised when I responded, "Me" ... He looked at me again and said, "Recently? It doesn't look like you've had a baby!"

Thank you kind sir! I have a three and a half week old boy!

Life

Life is an amazing thing. My life is amazing. The people in it are amazing.

I look at my little boy, watching him breathe, and I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that he exists because of me and Dave. I have a son! We have created something so much bigger than ourselves!

The grandmothers have given us incomparable help. Day and night, if we need them, they'll show up and save us. Walter is a lucky little guy! I probably would be insane right now too if they didn't help so much. It's much harder taking care of a newborn than I thought it would be. People who say it isn't work have obviously never done it. But thank God the reward is incredible.

Now, if only I could sleep 8 hours straight...

Post Partum II

I can already see how fleetingly fast it will all go. Already I cannot believe that I'm not pregnant anymore. I was pregnant, expecting, for almost a whole year! And it's over. His birth, so quick, is over. And now it's almost been two weeks... Even while I was pregnant, I could hardly believe there was a little human inside of me, and even though I hold him now in my arms, I still can barely understand the miracle...

Postpartum

Now that the challenges of pregnancy and birth are over, we come to the postpartum period. And boy, do the challenges not let up! Mixed in with the joy of being able to look at and cuddle with your baby, there are difficulties. Such as, when do you sleep? When do you get chores done? When do you get over your husband having to go back to work? When do you leave the house? When do you call your friends back?

I have had an interesting physical recovery. A few days after I got home I found out I had a uterine infection. I developed a fever and what I thought was severe gas. I think it was actually my uterus contracting. This is a rare occurrence after short, vaginal deliveries.

Even though I've babysat for the last 15 years and am very comfortable with children 2 months and older, bringing home your very own newborn is, well, overwhelming. I was very anxious to leave the hospital, yet the first night we got home Dave and I had to call his mother to come over. Walt wasn't eating, he was getting upset, and he turned bright lobster red all over his whole body. Needless to say, we freaked out. Then later in the evening he had rust colored pee. I thought it looked like blood. Turns out that all these things we freaked out over are completely normal. As the pediatrician put it the next morning (after a sleepless night), all his organs are starting to function, and they're literally getting the rust out.

Breastfeeding.... well, not as easy as sticking the child on your boob and letting him get at it! I had several people helping me, and he and I still weren't figuring it out until I read The Nursing Mother's Companion and it told me exactly how to get a good latch AKA one that doesn't make you want to scream every time they suck! After that, I was able to heal and baby has spent the last week gaining close to a pound! He eats like a champion.

The sleeplessness is getting to both Dave and me. We try to let the other one sleep as much as we can, which works out better for him, I have to say, since I don't want to even try a bottle til one month. But, he is the one who has to go to work, so it's only fair. Nights so far have been mixed. Walt will be perfect some nights, only waking to poop and eat and go back to bed. Other nights we're not so lucky, and he fusses for a few hours when we'd certainly enjoy a little shut eye. Dave calls him a little Houdini because he magics his arms out of his swaddle constantly. We've lost track of what day it is. The other morning, when I couldn't handle it anymore and Dave took baby out into the living room to give me a sleep break, I actually hallucinated. I was talking to Dave in my sleep and worried that he was falling asleep with the baby in his arms. I feel very blessed that we have partner support during this time. And lots and lots of help from family and friends. A friend of mine characterized the first month - six weeks as survival mode. I have to agree, and it's only 1 1/2 weeks for us! It has led to some fun dreams though!

Funnily enough, sometimes, especially when I'm in bed, I still feel like I can feel Walt kicking around in my belly.

After all that, I have some good news: I can already fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes!

Walt's Birth Story

NB: This post is long, and it may contain some slight graphic details. Enjoy!

I’ll start with Wednesday, August 15^th. I had my 38 week check up, and as I had only gained 15 lbs at that point, we wanted to check baby’s development via ultrasound. I had been having some pretty significant pelvic pressure/pain. Turns out baby was so low “he had no where else to go but out,” according to the ultrasound tech. But otherwise he had a good bill of health and moved around a lot. I had lunch with Jason & Jen$ afterward at the spicy burrito place (yum!). Thursday I went to work and then Dave and I made dinner for his parents and my dad. We had yummy fish, corn, kale, rice, salad & red wine that my dad had brought back from the California vineyards he had just visited. Pelvic pressure was even more intense. On Friday our good friends Jen & Anton got married at Piedmont Park. Jen$ and I went to take pictures of the girls getting ready, then I showered and dressed for the big event, waiting for Dave to get home from work. It was a wonderful wedding. I danced with David (to some fast songs and a lovely slow one!). We had a good time with our friends (Jason, Jen$ & her roommate Jamie were there too). I was ready to go around 11, having been upright all day. We got home, and the pain made it feel like my pelvis would break apart every time I moved my legs. That night I slept very poorly, waking up a couple times because it felt like I was having intense contractions. They would start in my back and wrap around my waist. Eventually I got up for the day. Dave and I hung out that morning. I texted Alice about what I could do to relieve some pain. She told me to lay on the bed head down with my butt up in the air. It worked really well, for I didn’t have the pelvic pain anymore, but it did cause my first awake contraction of the day. 

Throughout the day I was having very intermittent contractions. I wasn’t even sure they were contractions, except they seemed to have peaks, and they would wrap around my belly and back. They felt like a hot iron squeezing a belt around my belly. They happened probably once or twice every hour, lasting 30 seconds or so. I’ve heard so much about false labor, I pretty much ignored them. Even though I was uncustomarily still that day, lying on the couch for most of it. Dave was outside working in the garden most of the day. We have a vegetable garden that had become completely overgrown with weeds. I don’t know how the veggies were surviving. At one point I joined him outside and sat in camping chair and watched him. When I brought the chair over it gave me a contraction. For about 30 minutes we chatted, and then I made him a grilled cheese sandwich, since he hadn’t eaten but a bowl of cereal for breakfast. I went back inside to rest. Horizontal resting was good, but if I had a contraction while I was laying down, the pain was much more horrible. Even lying on my side was excruciating. Around 5pm I went to the bathroom for the millionth time and noticed some blood. I thought, “here we go!” but I didn’t want to get too excited. I went outside to bring Dave some water and tell him that he might want to come inside soon, clean up, and get some rest. He looked at me like he was really excited, but we both knew not to make too much of it. At around 6pm I told him he needed to get inside. My contractions that last hour had been every ten minutes or so. I said something like, “If you don’t get inside now I’m going to get mad at you.” That hurried him up!

He showered and ate some dinner (and a beer!) while I… I’m not sure what I did. I know all I had eaten for hours was a small snack and ice water. I called our doula Alice around this time to tell her I thought I was going into labor. She said she was about to run a half marathon and gave me her backup’s number if things started getting more intense before she finished. I wanted to watch Mad Men, which Dave paused every time I had a contraction. I think it took us almost two hours to watch an episode! I tried to find different positions to make myself “comfortable” during each contraction, but nothing really worked. The only thing that felt the best was to sit up straighter than normal, leaning on something to lift my butt off the couch. The contractions would either start in my back and wrap around to the front or the other way around. They felt white hot, like they were gripping me around the middle. Kind of like bad gas but more concentrated. Painful, but I could breathe through them. They would increase until their peak and then slowly drift away. It is amazing that in between there would be no pain. I was actually afraid almost every time that I was mistaken, that I wasn’t really in labor, and that another contraction wouldn’t come. But oh, they did!

After the episode I decided to take a bath. I love baths and had wanted a water birth before the midwife left our OB practice unexpectedly. I thought it would calm the contractions and relax me. But maybe I’m not a good candidate for water birth! Getting in the water made me immediately have two contractions right on top of each other, and their intensity was much worse than the previous ones! I was surprised as I had had a bath earlier in the afternoon and had been able to read. Although I had just gotten in, I had Dave help me out, saying I couldn’t handle it in there. Turns out I must have flipped the “on” switch, because my contractions started coming every three minutes or so. They had been lasting about a minute. I moved to the bed (slowly, because I didn’t have much time in between each one) and sat there trying to get comfortable, debating with Dave if we should go to the hospital. He called our practice and said “I think my wife is starting labor,” which as it turns out was a silly description. He explained my contractions, and the hospital said to come on in. I decided to call Alice first. She was still running the last mile of her race! I had to throw the phone down at one point to get through a contraction. Dave was being sweet giving my feet a massage, and I couldn’t even handle that. Turns out that though I love massages, I didn’t really like to be touched too much during intense labor! Labor sure is Opposite Land. Alice asked if I would be upset if we went in and I was only dilated 3 cm. I said, maybe, but I would really be upset if I was only 1 cm. I was also thinking, “boy, if this is only early labor, I’m not sure I could handle active labor!” My plan all along was to go natural, as I had trained to be a doula myself the year before and had delved into studying childbirth, but I kept thinking in the back of my head that I would probably cave and get an epidural if I got to the hospital, and they said I wasn’t very far along.

Alice suggested that I wait 30 minutes and reassess then if I wasn’t completely sure that I wanted to go to the hospital. I thought that was a good idea. After about 20 minutes though, contractions still very intense and seemingly coming one right on top of the other, I told Dave we needed to pack our bags and get going. North Fulton is about 45 minutes (in no traffic) from our house, and I was getting to the point where I needed to be where I was going to give birth. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get in the car if we waited any longer. So off we went, Dave driving very carefully. He had a bottle of peanuts rolling around the front passenger floorboard (I was in the back where there were more options for labor positions) and I very quickly told him that that wasn’t going to work! He quickly stuffed them in the glove compartment. We didn’t really talk on the ride or listen to music, though occasionally he would say stuff to me. I can’t remember if I responded. I didn’t watch the clock, but I glanced at it and saw that the contractions weren’t slowing down. The first one in the car was about five minutes, so I thought I would get a reprieve, but then they quickly stabilized at 3 minutes. I texted Alice and let her know we were on our way. Funny thing was, Dave and I were still wondering on the way that maybe this was super early, and I would only be 1 cm when I got there, and they’d want to send me home!

We went in through the emergency room, and L&D came to get me in a wheelchair. I felt kind of silly being wheeled down the corridors, as if I couldn’t walk. They were very sweet when I arrived (I had preregistered, whew), and they told me to change into a gown and give them a urine sample. I asked if I couldn’t wear my own clothes, and they said, “Sure! Whatever you want!” It took me a while in the bathroom because I had another contraction. I couldn’t tell how long it lasted. It was enough just to be in the moment, waiting for the pain to subside. During contractions I completely forgot about going to a more transformative or spiritual place as I had wanted the experience to be. I could only think through each one that it would pass somehow. When Crystal, the nurse, had me lie down so she could check me, I told her that that was the worst position for my contractions, and she was very awesome and understanding about my “pains,” as she called them. We waited for my next one to pass, and then she checked me quickly before I could have another one. She said, “Now don’t get too comfortable here. You’re 5-6 cm dilated and 90% effaced. Let’s go to your room!” She then asked when we first got into the room if I planned on delivering naturally, and my response was, “that’s the plan!” I was losing conviction at that point though. Good thing Alice would be there soon.

By this time it was around 11pm Saturday night. Once I got in my room we had to do a reactive strip on baby to make sure he was doing well. It didn’t take long at all to make sure his heart rate and movement were fantastic during and in between contractions. Crystal also set up an INT on my left hand for an “in case” moment. It was rather large and annoying. She said she wasn’t going to even call Dr. Modugno until the last possible minute so he wouldn’t have a chance to intervene! Alice showed up and we sat around chatting about labor and delivery, and I tried a few more positions. Dave and I actually hadn’t told our family yet that I was in labor, and we figured we should let everyone know. Dave messaged our parents that we were at the hospital. I wanted to go in the shower, but Crystal was about to come in again to check baby, which they do every hour. This check was even shorter. She wrapped my hand with the INT in a large latex glove, which looked and felt even more ridiculous. At some point Modugno came in to check me out, but I had a contraction while he was there and had to lean on Dave, so I couldn’t really respond to him. He didn’t stay long, I think because he knew it was going really well. I was happy he was remembering what I wanted in my birth plan (AKA no interventions). The interesting thing about contractions was that whatever position I was in when the contraction got going, that was where I was staying. There was no moving, even if I was in a terrible position. So it was best to be in a place where I could easily stabilize myself to get through it.

Getting in the shower was wonderful, even if the water was just under the temperature I would have liked it to be, but it was probably set at the highest it would be safe for a laboring woman. Good thing was it was consistent. It took me several contractions to figure out where I wanted to be. There was a seat in the shower, but it was too flat and hard and too far back to provide much comfort. I tried sitting in the shower, but my butt would hurt too much during a contraction. So I settled for sitting down facing the faucet in between contractions, then when I would feel them revving up, I would use the bar in front of me to raise myself up on my knees, rest my arms and face on the bar, letting the shower hit my back. I could wiggle my butt if I wanted to relax, but for the most part I forgot to relax and noticed frequently that my shoulders were tight. I would always try to lower them if I could remember. When I was sitting down I would let the water hit my face, which was nice. Dave and Alice got me a towel to put underneath my knees so they wouldn’t hurt too. It felt like I had less and less time to relax between contractions. I didn’t focus on time or really anything else but getting through the pain. Dave was sitting on a stool next to the shower, just being with me and getting me ice chips or water if I needed them. He was with me the whole time, holding me up if I needed his support or just being there with his loving presence. Alice sat outside the door if we needed her. Interestingly, during this time I was completely naked and could have cared less who came in. It felt very primal. I had some questions, like when my mucus plug really started to come out, and it freaked me out. It was very bloody and stringy. I thought something was wrong cause it wouldn’t easily pull out, and I thought I was pulling parts of my uterus out. It was fantastic to have Alice there telling me that things were normal or what to expect. And it was like she knew my needs before I could even voice them. Probably because she is so used to supporting women in labor! At one point while we were in the shower (I barely talked except for the few moments in between contractions) Dave said that he was jealous of me because he wasn’t able to give birth to our child. Now, that might sound strange, but since he’s a Marine, he likes painful challenges. It’s a sentiment I had heard before from him and it really bolstered me when I was nervous about birth during my pregnancy, because he knows what it’s like to be completely in the moment, and it’s not something you get to experience very often. Well, my response to that, while in the shower, was “You can have the next one,” and I heard Alice laugh right outside the door. It was a simple moment, but one that I really liked. It kept me going.

At some point I asked Dave how long we had been in the shower. Time really had no meaning, but he said it had been 45 minutes. He told me later that the contractions were every 3 minutes, lasting 2 minutes. Sometimes I would have double contractions, when there would be no break between. He apparently had talked to Alice some while I was in there, and I didn’t even notice. For so much of the time I could only be involved in my own mind and the sensations flowing through my body. The bathroom was dark, so maybe it was like a little cave, where my body felt protected and could go through what it needed to to get the baby out without interruption. After awhile I remember thinking that I wasn’t sure I could handle too much more of this. I knew from a previous meeting with Alice that that can be a sign of transition. It immediately made me hopeful, because everything was just so intense I wasn’t sure I could keep going. I don’t think I had much choice either way. My labor was a locomotive with no brakes. Soon I started feeling the urge to go to the bathroom during each contraction. It was literally the feeling of having to poo but only during the intense part of the contraction. I told Alice, and she said it might be the urge to push. After a couple of those contractions, I turned off the shower and decided to get up (while I could!) to see if I did need to poo. I knew that sometimes women would potty during labor. I got out of the shower, and Alice and Dave tried to dry me off. Hospital towels are very small and inefficient! I had several wrapped around me, and I sat down on the toilet. During the next contraction, the unavoidable urge to bear down hit me. I could not help myself. There was nothing I could do to stop myself from doing it. I was grimacing and straining and… I felt the baby in the birth canal. It was this warm, full feeling of his head coming down. It was probably one of the most frightening feelings I’ve ever had, knowing that there wasn’t anything else left for me to do but push him out. It was by far the most instinctual feeling I ever had, feeling his head plus the urge to push. His head felt big. Alice had gone to get the nurse and the nurse to get Modugno and tell him the show was on the road. 

Alice and Dave helped me get up off the toilet and to the bed. Now, getting to the bed felt like an insurmountable task. It was probably 15 feet away but felt like Mt. Everest. Contractions were not the same anymore. They completely took over my mind and body, and I was like an animal, doing things and making noises that I couldn’t help. I think I maybe had 3 or 4 contractions before I could crawl onto the bed. We stopped and I would hold onto Dave and Alice, trying to stay upright and keep going. The noises I made were of the groaning variety, but they weren’t gutteral, not yet. Turns out there’s a big difference. Alice asked me if I wanted to put on my dress, which I did. I couldn’t have cared less who was in the room down at my naked bum, but for some reason I was more comfortable not being completely naked anymore. Once I got on the bed there was hustle and bustle about, most of which I could barely pay attention to as I was completely taken over by the pain. They had to lower the end of the bed and prep for delivery. I then was in a position to push, sitting up, Alice on my right leg, Dave on my left. They tried to put monitors on, the INT was falling out. I was pretty much saying “no” to every suggestion by the medical staff, which was ridiculous on my part. I truly didn’t want to be there anymore; I wanted someone else to have to do this for me. I think Dave wished he could have taken my place.

The noises I was making were very loud. But they were the wrong type of noises. They were surface, lung noises, not using my belly and my butt to push the baby out. It is literally the same type of push as a big poo, but also so very different. Ungraceful description, but accurate. You have to crunch up and dig deep inside yourself to push that giant baby out of your small canal. A couple of times I was literally trying to back away from the pain, and it made the nurses laugh and say, “Honey, you can’t back away from this, you have to bear into it to get him out.” But everyone there was very supportive. Very. They were all trying to help me, tell me what to do and how to do it. Crystal broke my water, which was a warm, gushing feeling that felt good, and I had been hoping against all hope that baby would surf out on that wave, but it was not to be, there was more to come! The times when I would push correctly, it seemed like everyone was cheering me on, and I would hope it was over each time. I couldn’t really tell what was going on down there anymore, except that there was a large object trying to come out. I started hyperventilating. My hands were acting funny, all curled up and I couldn’t uncurl them. My lips were becoming numb and weirdly shaped. Modugno wanted me to hold my own legs (to which my response was “no, no, no” and he grabbed my hands, put them on my legs, and told me to pull them back. This was when my hands weren’t working, and he told me I needed to slow my breathing down. Everyone had to keep reminding me to slow it down, because I would forget and start getting faster and faster, just hoping the pain would subside quickly. Turns out if you slow down, that speeds things up! He crowned for a couple contractions (during which Crystal would say, “he’s almost here! Probably one more push and you’ll have your baby!” Baby’s head finally came out with a cheer, and the rest just slithered out (much less work than the head), and they placed him on my tummy… HE WAS HERE!!! At 1:45am Sunday morning, August 19, 2012. It was only 15 minutes of pushing! It had felt like an eternity. I had cried out the entire time I was pushing, crying out in fear, pain, and wishing it would be over soon. But then…

I couldn’t believe it. I really couldn’t. I had my hands on him, was looking at him (he was a purple color all over; I asked if he was ok), and I just kept breathing really hard. I was saying “oh my goodness” and just in a state of overwhelming disbelief. Here was a miracle, a true miracle, on my belly. My child that I had created out of love with my husband, carried for nine months, and delivered after about 8 hours of labor. The intensity of the moment was something I had never experienced before. Dave asked me if I wanted to say his name out loud (we hadn’t shared the name with anyone yet), and I said “oh yeah” and simply, “Walter” because there he was, looking beautiful and in my arms. Dave and I looked at each other and there was just pure love there. Love for each other and baby and the moment that we were in together. 

Of course, it wasn’t over. I had to be stitched up. Baby had torn me good and getting sewn up was terrible. They had to apply the local anesthetic twice. Dave and I focused on baby, Alice focused on me, Modugno kept saying “sorry love” when it hurt, and my body wouldn’t stop shaking. Finally, finally, it was all done. They dimmed the lights, and left the four (!) of us alone together. Alice stayed for a little while longer helping Walt and I get our first latch, then she left the three of us alone together. We had taken off my dress so baby and I could be skin to skin, him covered with a blanket, and there we were, our new little family, alone together for the first time post natal. We just sat there and looked at him, talking about how awesome he was. It was nice to have that time together, because there was lots to do afterward. I had to get cleaned up (and pee, ouch). At least I could walk around. Baby got weighed (6 lbs 13 oz) and measured (19 ½ inches). We gathered our belongings to go to the room and also follow baby to the nursery to get checked and cleaned. They thought he looked over 40 weeks because of his peeling skin, not one week early. After having him inside me for 9 months I wasn’t interested in being away from him yet. Jan and Frank were waiting for us out in the hallway to meet baby and hear his name. They had tried to come into the delivery room right after Modugno had left, but Dave told them they had to wait a few moments longer. His mom had brought cookies to bribe the nurses into letting her back there! They were her delicious chocolate peanut butter ritz cracker cookies that I could eat a million of. My dad would visit tomorrow (he was going out of town the next day) and my mother was still in Vermont (I had told her that baby would come when she was gone when she first told me her plans. I always knew he’d be at least a little early!) We got back to the room with baby around 4am, took a zillion photos and then everyone left. Walt was a sleepy baby, not waking the entire night (he had been through a lot too!) but Dave and I were too keyed up from what had just happened. It took us a little while to talk it out and finally fall asleep, baby in his bassinet between us. The whole thing was just… wow. I've never felt more proud of myself in my life.

And that’s how our little Walt came into this world!