Happy Birthday, Baby!

Oh my goodness, I cannot believe I haven't written to you in so long! My apologies. You have been up to lots of stuff though, in my defense. Keeping you from getting your little grabby paws on my laptop cord is, in itself, a full-time occupation some days. You're crawling, you've acquired six teeth, you're sitting up and eating all sorts of things AND you know two words: Mama and cat. Guess which is my favorite?

Before I forget, you had an absolutely terrific birthday. Pop-Pop and Ms. Karen visited, we had butternut squash risotto, which both you and your sister thought was yummy, and then we had your great-grandma's chocolate cake with seven-minute frosting. And boy, did you go for it! After about two seconds of trying to pick up your little cupcake, you just went face first into it instead. You were adorable and you had frosting all over you. You went straight from the chair to the bathtub, and your sister climbed in too. (You absolutely love the water, by the way. You're like one of those little windup swimming toys and the minute you touch the water, both little arms start going like windmills and the water goes everywhere. It's hard to mind though because you are so clearly ecstatic.)

After we got you all cleaned up and redressed, we opened presents, which you, of course, as a one-year-old, had very little interest in. Daddy and I got you Panda Bear, Panda Bear and The Happy Man and His Dump Truck. Pop-Pop got you a little push toy to help you practice your walking (so far, you like to turn it over and mash it on the floor until it plays music...) and Ms. Karen got you a little remote control and contributed to your savings account. Poppy and Granny sent a savings contribution too, along with a bag for toys and some Mega Blocks (which you like to take apart a whole lot). You were charming and good-natured and everyone enjoyed you. And then you crashed because the night before, you'd thought it was a good idea to remind me of how much progress you'd made since you were a newborn by getting up three times between 2:30 and 6:30. That was the sixth tooth making an appearance. Yeah, I know, "Happy birthday!" huh?

And today you were a miserable little being. At one point, you fell over, hit your head, and when I came to get you, I found you just lying on your back like a little starfish, arms and legs all splayed out, just wailing tragically at the ceiling. You didn't want to nap this afternoon and you were so unhappy, and I was so unhappy because I had so much to do and wasn't able to console you half so well as I would have liked.

Fortunately, that was completely out of character, as you're usually a mischievous little person who smiles and grins and laughs. (Your sister has discovered how to tickle you. Sort of.) When I tell you not to do something, you immediately freeze and look at me blankly, and then this grin slowly spreads all over your face as you clearly say, "Oh, you wouldn't say no to meeee, would you?" Truly, people always talk about a smile "spreading" across someone's face, but your face is the first time I've ever truly seen that happen. You just have the best grin.

Let's see, what else do I know about you? You love string cheese and pear and carrots and the squash I roast for you with honey and rosemary. You also love dropping things you don't particularly love - peas, for instance - over the side of your chair in a very casual and - you think - discreet manner. You still reject all plastic - pacifiers and bottles - and we made it a whole year without either. (I have no idea how. That's been just a little on the tiring side, you know....) You love to talk to the cats and pet them, particularly Mr. Man, who lets you play with the tip of his tail and examine his toes, and Ms. Love, who puts up with so much that I question her self-preservation instincts. You love Brown Bear, Brown Bear and Hands, Hands, Finger, Thumb and Planting a Rainbow and you will shriek when we're nearing the end if you want me to read something again. You sleep very sweetly. I put you down and most times you just flip onto your stomach and snuggle up with Pooh Bear and drift right off. You are fascinated with all cords and will go to ridiculous lengths to get them. You are also fascinated by my phone, my laptop, and my Kindle. And the stove. Mostly every single mechanized or electronic object in the house. And the bathroom - where you are not, of course, allowed.

You make me smile every single day. You are just like a pure dose of sunshine and I can't tell you how much we enjoy your little grins and your giggles and your efforts to get into everything possible. I read back over this and I'm astounded because I know how much more I will know about you by the time your birthday rolls around again. Just enjoying finding out who you are and watching you find out too.

Love you so much, sweet little man!
Mama

Whole New World

I haven't had time to write to you much these last few months but it's just been because I'm enjoying you both so much! Nora, you are hysterical. You make me laugh, belly laugh, hard at least once every day and at least once a week, you bring me to tears. You are wicked sharp and your vocabulary is astounding. You're constantly trying out using new words, sometimes correctly, usually correctly, sometimes not. Your milk is "lovely," your cookies are "delicious," your book is "precious." You also speak in different character voices, which I can only assume is the result of reading, including my favorite, which is a sort of smoky Kathleen Turner voice with the addition of a Southern accent. Everything and everyone are Mama and Daddy - Daddy Mixer, Mama Kitty, etc., etc., etc. And your obsession with birds continues. (You are also constantly into everything - I just had to stop this to run upstairs and rescue you because you managed to get your leg trapped between your bed, your window and your wall. Honestly.)

Your temper shows more these days and I can tell sometimes that it's hard to get through the day. (It's hard sometimes for Mama to get through the day too.) We do our best to be patient with each other, to not yell or swat, and sometimes we fail, but mostly we do very well. You love to cuddle, which has been a pleasant surprise - you were never terribly keen on it, or were indifferent, I guess, but now you crawl in bed with me in the mornings or you lie sprawled all over my lap while I work and your brother sleeps. Completely out of the blue sometimes, you walk up to my chair and say, "I like you." And you mimic our mannerisms, so now you often say to me, "Mama, what do you know?" or you want me to ask you what you're up to. You're trying hard to learn to share and you talk about sharing and "choosing" and taking "your turn," but at this point, of course, it's mostly in one direction - yours. I keep trying to explain gently that not everything your brother has is yours, but you love to peek at him and make him laugh and giggle and smile. I catch you climbing up to be with him when he's crying and I can't get to him right away, you like to pat his hair and "paint" his feet with your soft brush, and you correct his developing table manners with the rigorousness of a finishing school headmistress, saying in a scandalized voice (which I completely recognize as the one I use with you on occasion), "Naaat, what are you DO-ing? Naaat, we don't put our feet on the table! Naaat, we don't DO that!"

And speaking of, Nat, my darling man, you are sweetness and sunshine and light. You grin and laugh so readily that it's hard to be anything but cheerful with you around. Your plump little hands are busy all the time and no toy holds your interest that long. You love crinkly things (a wipes packet is a favorite) and shiny things (I gave you a cat toy - a jingle ball - in a shiny tea tin, which you love, and which your sister keeps trying to "choose"....) and most of all, you love your sister. You grin and beam and coo at her like she is lit from within, which of course, she is, and you so clearly want to follow her and be where she is. You are hard at work on sitting up on your own and busy flipping yourself onto your tummy and back again (sometimes - sometimes you get stuck and need me to rescue you), and you blow kisses (and raspberries) generously. You love your food: squash, peas, apples, carrots, pears, prunes, oatmeal, you name it. I don't think I've fed you anything so far that you haven't decided you like (although fruit does not seem to like you, poor boy)!

We're learning who you are. You seem relaxed, at ease and peaceful. You seem happy and loving. You are content leaning back in my lap, just watching. You sleep so easily and I have to watch that you don't just drop off to sleep on the bed in the middle of the day after I've changed your diaper. And now you're waking up, so I'll have to cut this short to go love on you.

But remember that I tell you both all the time that you will be each other's best friends for life, that you will love and care for each other. You will each teach each other about the value of loving people who aren't easy to love sometimes, about loving people "in spite of" rather than "because of," and I hope that no matter how dark the roads you walk will be that you will both know in your hearts that there is always someone who will answer the phone in the middle of the night and come without question, even if all you can do for each other is just to be there. I tell you regularly that as long as you're together, everything is fine, so hold each other tight and if you're reading this years in the future and I'm not with you, hug each other for me.

Love,
Mama

Welcome to the world, Baby Boy, Part 5

Where were we? Oh, yes, you and I were cuddled up in bed and getting acquainted. It was getting a little awkward toting placenta around in a tub (you came, by the way, with a very large and lobed placenta), so Daddy cut your umbilical cord, we got things clamped and cleaned up, and after a bit, I got into a nice bath, while you got all cleaned and weighed and whatnot. Then I got into warm jammies and you got into warm jammies (with a hat - the house was very chilly!) and we cuddled up in bed. You wore an outfit with little yellow ducks all over it, and underneath, as a shameless marketing ploy, you had a little onesie that had Chip and Dale on it. (Daddy finished these just hours before you were born - it was one of the last things I'd wanted done and when I started to suspect you might be coming, I had him finish everything up that he could!) Your sister loved (loves?) Chip and Dale and, to make sure you two got off on the best possible footing, we decided to dress you in a Chip and Dale onesie and have you bring her a Chip and Dale t-shirt. Anyway, Ms. Love, our kitty, needed to check on me and inspect you, so we snuggled down in bed, she curled up, and we drifted off. By this time it was about 4:00 a.m., but before we went to sleep, Mama called your Uncle Kelly. Remember that - that was who I called first, the only person I called before we went to sleep. We just talked for a few minutes and then you slept on my chest, so I could keep you warm (did I mention chilly - was down in the mid-60s in here, especially in our bedroom), and I dozed off too.

We got several hours of rest and before your sister started stirring, you woke and while you had a drink, Mama called your grandparents. Poppy had already left for work, so we told Granny all about you and then called Poppy at the office. He was surprised - when Mama told him you were here, he said, "Already?!" Then we called Aunt Betty (she wasn't up) and your cousin Greg. (We talked to Aunt Betty a few hours later). And it wasn't long before your sister started chatting away in her bed and getting anxious to get up. Daddy went up to get her about 8:30. She wasn't too sure what to think of you, honestly, but seemed to like you well enough, and definitely liked her t-shirt. Then we turned the television around, piled in our bed under warm quilts and had our first breakfast together as a family. You had milk. The rest of us had cereal. And we watched cartoons. I wish I could remember exactly which ones, but based on your sister's obsession with Chip and Dale, I'm pretty sure they were on the lineup. And that's it - we were a family.

That was Friday morning. Jill and Amy checked in via text message and we mostly rested, fielded phone calls and established your insatiable appetite. They checked in on us a few times over the next few days, making sure the rosemary goldenseal powder was healing your bellybutton, making sure your weight was stabilizing, making sure that I was healing properly. Poppy and Granny arrived that evening (they left right after work at Granny's insistence) and they stayed until Monday. Your aunt Dana stopped in on Sunday, your aunt Robyn and aunt Dana came again on Thursday, your uncle Kelly and aunt Mary came Friday evening and spent the weekend, and your PopPop came down for the afternoon on Saturday. I wish all that could convey to you how immediately and completely you were loved. My first thoughts of you were of how beautiful you were, how much you looked like your sister with all that dark hair, how thrilled I was to have made your sister her very own Kelly, her very own best friend for life, how strong and sturdy you seemed. You were perfect then and I can say without reservation that wherever you are, whoever you are, wherever I am, you are perfect now.

Love,
Mama

Welcome to the world, Baby Boy, Part 4

The midwives offered to check me to see how dilated I was, but I was so reluctant because before, I'd been dilated to 7 cm a whole four days beforehand, and after several hours of contractions, I was afraid to have them check only to find out that I was still at 2 or something depressing like that.  I was afraid that knowing how far there was to go would make me believe I couldn't make it, so I put it off as long as possible, but before long, I started feeling like it was time to push and a quick check said we were at 9 cm!  I was a little nervous about pushing in the tub.  Pushing a baby into the world, opening the gateway for a soul, as some would say, is BIG work and I wasn't sure I felt grounded enough there to manage it, but the time came so quickly, there wasn't much time for doubts.

I'm always baffled when I see doctors telling women not to push or to wait to push.  It doesn't work that way for me and I can't imagine that it does for anyone else either.  It's just something you have to do, even beyond the feeling of having to breathe.  I pushed once, one big long push, and when I stopped, I remember the pain was terrible.  (Well, I remember that the idea of the pain was terrible, but I can't call up the sensation.  Strangest thing.  I can remember, with painful empathy, just what little hands scraped on asphalt feel like, just how it feels to pinch the tip of a finger in a chair, the jolt of pain from a toe stubbed in the dark, but labor?  Nothing.)  Amy, I think, told me that you were right on my perineum.  I remember saying sarcastically, "No kidding!"  And then I pushed a second time and they told me your head was out.  With the third push I remember feeling vaguely frustrated - all this laboring, two pushes, pain, and I still hadn't delivered a baby?  What the heck?!  So, I remembered gathering myself in a disorganized way and pushing one more time.  (I also remember saying, "Get out!" during that push.  Sorry - it wasn't a good place for you to hang out and I was ready to meet you.)  And then, there you were!

I don't remember who caught you.  I think it was Allison and it's in the paperwork somewhere, but I just remember you, all pink and blue and compressed, being put in my arms and warm wet towels being laid over both of us.  I was so stunned to have a boy.  I'd really been prepared for things to go either way and didn't have any "sixth sense" of what you might be, but somehow, wow, a boy!  (I'm delighted, just in case you're wondering.  I love little boys - the rowdy, sturdy gameness that they come at life with.)  It took you a few moments to gather yourself enough to cry and no one else was worried, but I remember asking over and over if you were okay.  And of course you were.  You arrived so solid and centered (I still cannot believe I had a 9 lb. baby) and in a moment or two, you began to "squeak," as your sister says.

Then, of course, there was a flurry of activity.  Delivering the placenta, making sure that there wasn't too much bleed, concern that you were too cold, etc.  (And that last push must have awakened your sister, because she started to cry.  Motherhood is so automatic and it supersedes so much else.  You were only here a moment, I was cuddling you up, and I was giving your dad instructions as he darted up the stairs to check on her: "Tell her everything's okay, but it's not time to get up yet.  Tell her you'll turn on Frances and when she wakes up in the morning, she can meet her little brother!"  As if I didn't have enough to do.  As if he didn't know that.)  Once I was able to think about other things, the water seemed very cold all of a sudden and we all wanted to make sure you were warm enough, so I handed you off to get dried and dressed, staggered out of the tub, dried off too, and we snuggled down in bed with blankets piled on us.

Welcome to the world, Baby Boy, Part 3

So..., there we were, pretty sure that labor was starting but not quite, so I got in the bathtub and just stretched out.  Your dad was bustling around, making sure the birthing tub was ready to go, double-checking things, and asking me every two minutes if I thought this "was it."  He and Amy texted a little bit, but nothing much was happening.  The contractions weren't that bad and they kept happening, but they weren't clearly getting stronger or closer or developing any sort of pattern, so I just kept refreshing my bath, chatting with your dad, and getting annoyed with all the questions.  I just kept waiting for some crystal clear indication (like my water breaking) that this was "it."

"It" was a contraction that hit a little after 11:00 p.m.  Your dad was on the phone with Amy at the time, so he told her we were ready.  She got in touch with Jill and Allison and they were all here by midnight.  In the meantime, your dad had the tub about a third of the way full, so I got out of the bathtub and got in there to relax.  It was chilly in the house, in the mid-60s, and we were working hard to get things warmed up enough for you too - oven open, space heaters running, stove cranked up, so I just sat in the tub and watched the steam rising.  For some reason, I remember the ceiling.  I just stared up at the tongue-and-groove ceiling boards, thinking my way through each contraction, and waiting as patiently as I could.

Amy, Jill, and Allison went into our little room to wait, conveniently out of the way enough to offer privacy, but close enough to be able to hear my breathing and time contractions without being in the middle of everything.  Your dad sat next to me, talking to me occasionally, but mostly, it was quiet and I just labored through contractions in my own way.  My lower back hurt pretty badly (had the same pain with your sister) and I found that it was comfortable to let the plastic step in the pool press into my lower back.

Labor is a strange thing and so hard to describe, because for me, not only did the pain end the moment you were born, but so did the memory of the pain.  It's a slippery memory and it slides away from me whenever I try directly to grab it.  Mostly, I just remember the ceiling, staring and staring at the ceiling and trying not to let my breath get away from me.  And the slideshow your dad put together.  Because, before I met you, I couldn't imagine anything as fine as your sister, your dad put together a slideshow of pictures of her to run along with a mix of songs that you both listened to while you were hanging out in my tummy.  A quiet house, the humming of the stove, cold darkness all around the edges, gentle music, her sweet face slipping past, and the ceiling - always the ceiling....

Welcome to the world, Baby Boy, Part 2

By 9:00 or so, I was still feeling kind of "off," so I just stayed in bed where I'd done our reading and stretched out.  Shifting positions and moving around didn't seem to help much, but I still wasn't sure anything was going to happen.

This is probably a good place to explain why we were planning to have you at home.  Your sister was born, start to finish, in just about four hours and I had absolutely no indication that I was going into labor until my water broke, which is what started everything.  Your dad works about 30 minutes away, and the hospital, depending on traffic, is about 25-40 minutes away.  From the first few weeks I knew I was pregnant, I was just anxious about what we were going to do when it was time for you to arrive.  I was worried that your dad would be at work, and wasn't sure that he'd have time to rush home, gather us up, and get us to the hospital.  I kept thinking about being here with a toddler and being in active labor or about getting a third of the way to the hospital and then having you arrive.

And, of course, we don't have any family nearby and while we have some friends who would have taken your sister on a Saturday afternoon for a few hours, I didn't feel like I knew anyone that I could call in the middle of the night.  Or who I'd want to ask to come to the hospital and pick up Nora and mess with swapping car seats out while I was in labor and then they'd maybe have to call off from work and take care of her for who knew how long, not to mention how she'd likely feel about having to be hauled out of bed in the middle of the night, left at a nurses' station with strangers, taken to a strange place, and kept away from the two people she really knows for hours and hours.  That all just sounded awful - for her and for me, and I wanted to be able to think about you and focus on you and not be worrying about all this other stuff.

So, I started researching my options and found the CHOICE office in Worthington.  They offered home births in Franklin and surrounding counties, had been in practice for 35 years, and just seemed to be very organized, reputable and highly recommended, so we set up an appointment.  I also wanted to make sure that my blood pressure wasn't likely to be a problem again, and after talking to my doctor, the midwife who delivered Nora, the midwives in practice and just about every other medical professional in my life, I was reassured over and over that it was likely a fluke and there was no reason to believe it would happen a second time.  So we set up an initial consultation, talked about it quite a bit, and decided that just staying here at home, while knowing the hospital was close by and we'd be advised if that became necessary, would be the best fit for all of us.

I wasn't really sure what to think at first, to be honest.  Everyone seemed very competent, but I just wasn't sure I could do it, and of course, as a parent, my mind immediately went to the worst case scenarios that left me wondering how I'd live with myself for the rest of my life if anything went wrong.  But your dad was confident.  (I think I've said this before - he's very confident in me, more than I am, so often, and his confidence allows me to jump off cliffs.  Or at least be dragged to the edge of the cliff and pushed....)  After talking with Amy, Jill (who is an herbalist and had a Grateful Dead tattoo, both of which your dad just loved), and Allison, we came home, mulled it over, and decided that we'd do it! Aside from some mild anemia, which they caught, and a little bit of creeping on the part of my blood pressure in the final two weeks, I had another textbook pregnancy, although I'd be lying if I said that the blood pressure blips in the last couple of weeks didn't freak me out just a bit....

Welcome to the world, Baby Boy, Part 1

First, I'm sorry I haven't written to you in so very long.  Please know that I was loving you and thinking of you and preparing for you every day!  When I was pregnant with your sister, I was free to rest whenever but the second time around is much harder in that regard.  She is, as of this writing, a very active, very chatty little person filled with light and energy, and keeping up with her and my work until nap time most days has been all that I could manage for the six to eight weeks.  I was just so ridiculously tired most days, but your dad was, as usual, very understanding, and took care of all sorts of things around here so I could rest as much as possible.

There's also not been much to write because pregnancy with you has been uneventful and pretty easy!  About 36 weeks or so, I had a touch of anemia, but I jumped right on that and improved it in just a couple weeks, and during the last few weeks, my blood pressure crept up a bit, which meant even more taking it easy, but otherwise, no real pains, no complications or concerns, easy peasy. Every now and then, I'd think, "How long has it been since he moved?!" and would panic a little bit and jostle you around.  Then you'd squirm in irritation, I'd breathe a big sigh of relief and we'd both go back to what we were doing.

And I think I've just been more introspective because as I mentioned before, this time I knew just how impossible it is to imagine how terrific you'd be when you actually arrived, and I was right!  So, while I still remember things, let me tell you what that was like....

The week of November 11th, I wasn't feeling great.  Not really bad - just some bouts of false labor (three hours of that on Sunday night) and feeling tired and sore.  More than a few mornings, I'd had to lie in bed for a few minutes before getting up, just mentally encouraging myself that I could, in fact, get through another day.  Most days, by the time I lugged your sister up the stairs for her nap, I was counting the steps as I went and I'd come back downstairs and collapse for a bit.

I'd been managing to rally a bit in the evenings, get some work done, get up before your dad got home, start dinner, play with Nora..., and Thursday evening wasn't any different.  I made pancakes for dinner (easy and leftovers to freeze for later), talked to your grandfather just after dinner, around 7:00, because he'd been calling every day, multiple times a day to ask me if I felt labor was imminent.  (Do not ask a woman this.  She doesn't necessarily know.  People kept telling me that I'd know when it was time, but I really didn't, or at least I didn't know hours and hours in advance.  If I knew anything useful, I'd have shared it!)  Then I read to your sister after her bath, and during stories, I had a few contractions and was mentally preparing myself for an evening of false labor, thinking that it would likely get better if I got up and moved a little bit.  (For some reason, I never expected you'd arrive early.)  Because we thought it was likely that I'd have a quick labor, your dad texted Amy, our midwife, to let her know that I was having some random contractions, just so she could be on alert, and he made sure we were all set to fill the birthing tub when the time came....