Young Baby Young

We had us a pretty impressive snowstorm a few days ago.  It reminded me of another snowstorm we had about two months ago….

On that night — the night of December 21st, 2008, to be exact — I went to sleep during a nice snowstorm.  I woke up at 2am the following morning with excruciating back pain. 

Given that I was due to give birth any day — actually, I was two days overdue, but who’s counting? – I figured the pain had to do with me carrying an extra 30 pounds in front.  Heck, that can give anyone a backache.

I rolled out of bed and plodded my way down the stairs.  I wrapped myself in my favorite warm blanket and heaved myself onto the couch.  I figured there was no need to disturb Chris’s slumber — it’s not like he could do anything to fix this.  But damn, didn’t my back hurt!  I got out a heating pad and prayed that it would pass soon.

Surprisingly, a few minutes later, it kind of did pass.  Wow, this heating pad is working wonders today!  I drifted back off to sleep, but then the pain returned.  Why?  I haven’t even moved!  What’s going on here?  And so it went for a while.  I dozed fitfully.

The dogs must have sensed my awakedness because pretty soon I heard them bouncing down the stairs, then clicky dog toenails on the wood floors.  Even though it was only about 3:30am by then, I knew I should take them outside right away unless I wanted to clean up pee later.  I opened the front door and oh my, I could barely get it open due to the snow that had accumulated overnight.  Now, miniature dachshunds are not very tall, and they certainly know better than to leap into a snowbank where they might never been found until the spring.  Both dogs wisely started backing up and refused to go outside.  Sigh.  I guess I need to dig a path for them.

I bundled myself into Chris’s Carhartt jacket (it was the only thing that fit, anyway) and got boots, gloves, and a hat on.  I started shoveling a path for the dogs and found that strangely, my back felt a little better.  Well, the pathway needs to be cleared out anyway, and I’m already dressed, so I may as well continue.  Off I went, moving mounds of snow right and left, enjoying the cool breeze on my face and the distraction from my backache.

Finally, it dawned on me: I wonder if I’m in labor?  I was under the impression that I would be delivering the child out of the pelvic area, not directly through my spinal column, so you can see why this now-obvious conclusion didn’t occur to me immediately.  As I reflected on it, I realized the ache was coming in waves (rather peculiar for a backache) and that maybe this was the dreaded “back labor”.  I called the hospital, still without disturbing Chris (again, why get him all worked up for no reason?), and they didn’t confirm or deny that I was in labor.  They suggested I go take a warm shower to see if that would reduce the pain.  They also asked if, given the weather, we would be able to get to the hospital if we needed to.  “We’re not totally dug out, but I’m about halfway there.”  The nurse on the other end of the phone went silent, then: ”You’re shoveling snow?”  “Yeah, see, the dogs needed to go out and–”  She abruptly cut me off and said impatiently, “Don’t you have a boyfriend who can do that?!”

I wish now I had been more on my A-game and said something like, yeah, I guess I could ask my boyfriend to do that, but I don’t know how my husband would feel.  Why did she immediately assume ”boyfriend” instead of husband or, more generically, “partner”?  I sputtered something about our midwife saying physical activity was a good thing in early labor (she did say that, by the way) and then stirred myself into a tizzy because clearly, given the nurse’s displeasure, I was doing it all wrong.

At that point, I started to panic.  I was off the phone, I didn’t know if I was in labor, and my back pains were bringing tears to my eyes.  The shower didn’t do a darn thing.  I finally woke Chris up because I was afraid.  We headed to the hospital at 6am (after he finished digging out the driveway; unfortunately, my boyfriend had slipped out the back door by then) because if nothing else, we needed confirmation that we weren’t in labor.  And if we WERE in labor, the hospital seemed like a pretty good place to hang out.

The rest is history: Miss Emily Jane was born about 5 hours later.  Multiple nurses cycled in and out of the room during my stay at the hospital and almost all said, a little incredulously, “YOU’RE the one who was shoveling your driveway while in labor!”  I was disappointed that I hadn’t packed my superhero cape in my hospital bag….

My husband makes me laugh.  The other day I was telling him about how I had just discovered that my camera has all of these cool settings on it.  I had been using it as a point-and-click all of this time, but the other day I start pressing buttons and realized that it can do all sorts of neat things.  (Like foot massages and tax returns, to name but a few.)

Obviously, I had to start playing around with this.  I was taking pictures of Emily (my favorite canvas) and she eventually ceased to enjoy the game.  I continued taking pictures.  I showed them to Chris last night and he said, “Oh, look, you’ve got crying frontier baby.”  A dumbfounded look must have crossed over my face because he went on to say, “You know, the sepia color…you only see that in wild west pictures…get it?  Frontier baby?”

I finally got it.  And was quite pleased.

Please note the “pinkies of fury”, as commented on in prior entries.

Emily loves to sleep.  I know, that sounds funny given that I’ve been complaining about being sleep-deprived, but it’s true.  We’ve discovered that she needs many naps a day right now, and she’s also starting to sleep for 4-hour stretches at night.  (WOOHOO!)  She’s napping right now, with her chubby little arms thrown over her head (her favorite sleeping position), and looking as angelic as they come.  So, I’ll take this opportunity to post some adorable pictures of her:

Auntie Carrie has been hard at work crocheting hats for her goddaughter.  She emailed me the other day and said she was working on one “in the style of Russian architecture.”  I insinuated that I was amused by this and she haughtily responded with, “what are you talking about!?  everyone makes russian onion bulb hats.”  So there you go.  The Russian hat has not arrived yet, but we’re waiting with bated breath.  Here’s Emily in her first hat (which is not in the style of Russian architecture, as anyone can see):

We tried to get a family picture over the weekend.  It was decidedly difficult.  

Aah!  The timer went off and I’m not even in the picture yet!

Heads!  We need heads!

Attempt #76.  This will have to do.  Emily is embarrassed to be seen with us at this point.

I was so pumped last week about my Emily revelations…and then Friday afternoon came.  I’m still not sure what cosmic alignments happened, but we suddenly had the crabbiest baby ever on our hands.  My best guess was that she was overstimulated.  She screamed and hollered, kicked and clawed for much of the weekend.  It was, to be frank, dreadful.  At that point, I didn’t care how much pain was involved, I was going to send her back where she came from.  To quote the classic Bill Cosby: “I brought you into this world…and I’ll take you out.”  We did everything we could think of to make her happy and nothing was working — including driving her around in the car.  Man, if that doesn’t work, you’re in trouble.

I’ve been keeping a log of when she eats, how much, moods, naps, etc.  All of the books suggest that if you’re having trouble; maybe you’ll see patterns when you write it on paper.  On Sunday night, after looking back at the log, we realized why Emily was screaming: the poor thing was starving!  Emily is a very lazy eater; if it were up to her, she’d snack all day with 10 minute feedings each hour.  Since this doesn’t work for me, I have to convince her to fill up in one sitting so that she’ll last for 3+ hours.  It’s doable; I just have to do things like change her diaper in the middle to keep her awake.  Otherwise, the milk coma sets in and she falls asleep. 

Starting on Friday, she had reverted back to her 15 minute meals and then claimed she was done.  I thought she’d suddenly become a really efficient eater, I guess.  She would leave happy, and she wasn’t spitting up anymore, so I thought things were good.  I didn’t connect the tantrums an hour later to her being hungry still.  (Remember, the pendulum has just swung from me feeding her too much, so I’m hypersensitive to that little issue.)  Upon reviewing the log, we finally figured it out.  Didn’t I feel terrible….  This parenting business is tough.  Mom, Dad, I guess I owe you guys an apology!

Meanwhile, my stepmother Charlene saw a woman on Oprah, Priscilla Dunstan, who claims to speak Baby.  She has a prolific ear for sound variations and she realized that all babies speak the same general language.  Charlene kindly sent me the DVD and we popped it in as soon as we could.  (Read: when Emily stopped screaming enough so that we could actually hear it!)  They said there are three basic cries: ones that start with the “n” sound, ones that sound like “ehh” where you have a little explusion from the chest, and ones that sound like “owh” where the mouth turns into an oval shape.  The DVD showed a zillion babies making these crying sounds.  We were fascinated.  Brilliant!  We can now figure out what Emily is trying to say to us!  This will make our lives so much better!

Wasn’t I mad when all of her cries sounded like “eh”, which is the sound for gas?!  She never cries for hunger according to this silly program.  Pshaw!  I nearly sent them a nasty email saying that perhaps their program works “Down Under”, but my child obviously doesn’t speak Australian because we have yet to hear her do the hungry cry.

Alright, so I was mad.  But the lessons kept resounding in my head.  As I watched Emily cry and put it into context, I realized that she really doesn’t cry for hunger!  She cries when she’s tired, and she cries when she has gas (which is surprisingly often), but she resorts to body language when she’s hungry.  She eats her hands, moves her head back and forth, roots for food, etc…but the tears are a last resort.  Damn, could this Dunstan woman be on to something?!

I always wondered how people could claim that their young child “always wanted to be an actor”.  How does a one-year-old tell you that?  Better yet, a six-month-old?  Now I know.  Emily is such a little ham whenever she sees the camera come out:

Things have improved tremendously around here.  I went to the library last week and checked out “Secrets of the Baby Whisperer.”  The same day, Jenny recommended the book to me.  Furthermore, my cousin Cindy had sent me books from her collection and it included the toddler version of Baby Whisperer.  I figured these were all omens.  So I started reading.

Okay, I know this sounds hokey, but I swear that woman was writing to me.  Chris got home from work that night and I couldn’t stop prattling on and on about “the book says this”, “I read that we should that”, “the section on this made so much sense”, and “I can’t wait for you to read it!”  Everything she said made perfect sense, and it’s quickly helping me figure out what Emily is trying to tell me.  I’m starting to distinguish her over-tired cries from her hungry cries; I now know how to put her in her crib when she’s wide awake and let her play or sleep on her own; I even am learning when to let her soothe herself and when to rush to her aid.

The critical mistakes I was making before:

• I thought she was hungry every time she cried. 
• I fed her so much that she’d spit it all back out because she was over capacity.  I, however, thought this meant that she now needed to eat again because she’d spit it all out.
• I didn’t understand how much sound sleep she really needed.
• I thought she required constant handling and attention, but I found that when I let her do her own thing, she was perfectly capable of entertaining herself.
• I believed that when she cried in the middle of the night, she needed me immediately.  Actually, she can handle things herself if I give her about 15 seconds.  (Otherwise, I’m there to fix all!)
• I learned that she doesn’t have to be picked up all of the time — a gentle pat and a few verses of “You are my sunshine” will often do the trick.  (See?  That music degree did come in handy!)

We’re now on a pretty predictable schedule of eating, playing, and sleeping (repeat ad nauseum) and Emily is really digging it.  She seems to like the predictability and, of course, now that I know what she’s trying to tell me, she’s happy that she doesn’t have to have a meltdown everyday because she’s overly tired.  That goes for me, too — I set her down in her crib for a nap and find myself with anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours to get the stuff done that I need to do.  We’re all much happier.  Chris was just saying last night how nice it was to hang out with Emily and not have her crying.  She had no need to cry: she was fed (but not overfed), she was rested, she was clean, and she knew that bedtime was coming soon.  What’s not to be happy about?

I ran into Emily’s doctor at the grocery store today.  She has two young children herself.  She came over to ask how Emily was doing and even said, “I was going to call and check in with you guys after your last visit.”  I guess when Mommy and Baby are both wailing in the doctor’s office, it makes an impression!  She was thrilled to hear that we were doing so well, thanks in part to her gentle steering.

Miscellaneous pictures:

Emily in her dachshund dress.  Auntie Amy had given this to a friend, then demanded it back when she found out that Emily was coming.  I, for one, was impressed by this bold move.  Emily, too.

Remember how everyone thinks Emily looks like Chris?  Now people reluctantly say, “Umm, okay, Elizabeth…I guess she’s got your hands.”  I wanted photographic proof.

Emily is digging her playmat from Steve and Mary Ann.  Currently, she doesn’t do much on it but kick and drool…hey, if she’s happy, we’re happy!

Here’s the napping angel baby as she looks right now while I type this entry.  I have to admit that I’m one of those parents who sneaks in and gazes at her while she sleeps.  I love the way her hands rest in the middle of the air, the way her mouth drops open, and even the way she breathes.

(Or would it be rink-a-dink-dink since she’s having her bath in the sink?)

The startle reflex makes us laugh every time — every limb hit the air when she was surprised by the water.

Still as bashful as she was when we tried to figure out her gender during the ultrasound, Miss Emily refuses to make eye contact and insisted that her girl-parts be covered.

Butt dimples are always amusing.

After her bath, she relaxed in her favorite outfit that gives a shout-out to her dogs.  (Thank you, Christie!)

…these are a few of my favorite things about Emily Jane (in no particular order):

1. waking up in a good mood in the morning, wanting to play and smile
2. long, beautiful, luxurious eyelashes
3. fat wrist wrinkles
4. when she gets really upset and starts crying hysterically, she thinks it only appropriate to accompany herself with the “air accordion”, a special instrument she plays by slowly flapping her arms in and out in time to her wails of displeasure
5. the softest feet (and corresponding monkey toes)
6. the earnest way in which she latches on for breastfeeding
7. sleeping with her mouth open when she’s really relaxed
8. big blue eyes
9. the way she puts her “evil” pinkies up in the air when she’s angry a la Austin Powers
10. the gentle butterfly pats she gives me when nursing
11. the single dimple on her left cheek
12. her fuzzy little head
13. her “Lord of the Dance” routine when she’s on her changing mat
14. the way her smile is a little lopsided sometimes
15. the grip of death that she occasionally employs on my hair or skin
16. perfect fingernails on itty bitty fingers
17. her deep voice
18. the startle reflex that makes all of her limbs fly up in the air
19. fat cheeks
20. stretching short arms over her head when she wakes from a nap
21. the red Christmas cap that she still wears to keep her head warm at night
22. the world’s cutest nose
23. sleeping with both arms above her head.

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I got worried that she wouldn’t think I existed, so I took a picture of the two of us together a few days ago.  (We were trying to do the same facial expression.)

Buddha baby.

Lounging.  Like a big girl.

Soft feet.

We’re pretty sure this is the first time in 7 weeks that Natalie noticed there was a baby in the house.

“Cutie”

Perfect little hands.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Short and sweet: she smiles for the camera!

This isn’t her best Riverdance interpretation, but it gives you an idea of how she rolls.  She’s usually better at keeping her upper body motionless.  Apparently, you have to kickstart the dance with your right leg a few times before you really get going.  Just call her Emma Leigh O’Young….

Do you remember the reality TV show that followed the life of Ozzy Osbourne and family?  Sharon Osbourne was diagnosed with cancer during the taping.  Instead of going back on her contract, and understandably so, she said, “hey, this is reality; people can watch me battle breast cancer during this show.”  I’m hardly going through chemo, but I still figure that I’ll try to keep it real. 

Another tough thing about this time in Miss Emily’s life is that she’s going through a growth spurt, meaning she’s hungry constantly.  (“They” say she’ll have one at 3 weeks, one at 6 weeks, and one at 6 months, as well as lesser ones inbetween.)  She’s been eating every two hours today — thank goodness we’ve discontinued the marathon feeds that she was doing previously!  Otherwise we’d be spending 16 out of 24 hours in the day feeding her…. 

Have I mentioned lately that I have the most wonderful husband and babydaddy?  No?  Let me elaborate.  He’s not afraid to change a diaper, he can often soothe Emily when I can’t, he’s willing to do bottle feedings to let me sleep longer, and he’s been working hard to do many of the chores, especially kitchen duties, that I haven’t been able to do without two hands free.  I recommend that everyone find a person like this for their lives.  (Obviously, find one LIKE him; do not try to steal him as I will be highly displeased.)

Emily is fascinated by the computer screen.  She refuses to read books with me, or play with her toys, but she gazes adoringly at the ever-changing monitor.  Normally, this pleases her greatly, but at the moment, she’s “flexing the golden pipes” quite angrily.  I have a theory that I ate something not-so-pleasing at lunch today which may have upset her delicate taste buds.  (Umm, but really, who can resist bacon-horseradish dip?)

Apparently, Emily looks like everyone but me.  Did I give birth during a blizzard for this?!  Unbelievable.  A coworker of mine finally declared she looked like me and I’m telling you, I nearly cried with relief.  “Do you really think so?”

A coworker?  Perhaps I should rephrase that to be a former coworker.  Chris and I have made the decision that I won’t be going back to work right away.  This will be a huge change for us, coming from the double-income-no-kids world, but we welcome it anyway.   Will I miss the stimulation?  No doubt.  The people?  Absolutely.  The stress?  Not so much.  The paycheck?  Mmm hmm.  On the flip side, I don’t want to miss Emily’s first words, first steps, first laughs.