Every week I come up with new reasons to hope that our kid will actually be one of those kids who just magically starts sleeping through the night on his own, so we can eagerly join the ranks of the annoying parents who say "our baby sleeps like an angel."
First I crossed my fingers as our baby approached the 12-13 pound threshold that the American Academy of Pediatrics claimed was when most kids started sleeping through the night. Then I thought he would do it for my parents when we went to Qatar, just to be contrary. Then I hoped that maybe he'd just been holding out to be baptized, and now would sleep blissfully knowing he was washed free of original sin. Then I thought maybe he was just waiting to meet his Aunt Bri and Uncle Jesse. Or maybe he was one of those kids who is a baseball fan from birth, who would dream deeply about Wrigley Field and the Cubbies dramatic win. Nope, nope, no, nada, and nope.
But hope springs eternal. I am presently quite excited that for the first time ever he took a giant mamba jamba feed before bed. He sucked down his standard 4 ounce bottle and was still looking wide awake and a bit peckish, so I asked Terry to fill it up with a bit more. "Just an ounce or two max" I say. But Terry accidentally adds too much water, so he winds up making another 4 ounces, mostly just to be sure we've got the water to formula proportions correct.
And what do you know? The kiddo sucked down another three ounces before he tuckered out, making it a whomping SEVEN ounces in a single sitting. Astonishing. I had to check my math with Terry, not trusting my sleep deprived brain: "Say, if I've got an ounce left in here that makes three. Plus four makes seven right?"
So yeah, fingers crossed. Because have I mentioned that now he only naps for 46 minutes at a stretch? Its weird, eerily precise...he closes his eyes and then BING 46 minutes later his eyes fly open. Critter.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Unpleasant Napping Development
This is the month where, according to the Sleep Lady system we are following, you really start digging in and trying to actively encourage your kiddo to sleep. Doing decently on the nighttime stuff.
But in the last two or three days the kid has developed this weird quirk when napping in the day: he only sleeps for 46 minutes and then BING! eyes fly wide open. The only way I've been able to get him to sleep for longer is if I put him in the sling. Boo. This is a bad development as kiddos his age are supposed to get 5 hours of daytime sleep spread over three naps, which works out to 6 or 7 of these little 45 minute deals, which means I spend all my waking hours trying to get him back to sleep, making sure he still eats every 3 hours, and the math of all that equals a great big run-around.
Any advice out there? Anyone else's kid suddenly develop an internal alarm timer that went off every 45 minutes?
But in the last two or three days the kid has developed this weird quirk when napping in the day: he only sleeps for 46 minutes and then BING! eyes fly wide open. The only way I've been able to get him to sleep for longer is if I put him in the sling. Boo. This is a bad development as kiddos his age are supposed to get 5 hours of daytime sleep spread over three naps, which works out to 6 or 7 of these little 45 minute deals, which means I spend all my waking hours trying to get him back to sleep, making sure he still eats every 3 hours, and the math of all that equals a great big run-around.
Any advice out there? Anyone else's kid suddenly develop an internal alarm timer that went off every 45 minutes?
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Fun with Bathtime
I have to say bath time is a predictably fun time with Liam. He is a big fan of the bath. Early on he would chill, all peaced out. Lately he has become more happy and active, even splashing around, pushing his feet against the edges and cooing.
He gets to splash around a little before he gets washed down. He wriggles around in his little bath hammock while getting washed down. Finally he gets his hair shampooed and rinsed off. After the bath he gets wrapped up in a towel and dried off. If it is chilly we try to warm up the towel in the drier first. Then he gets a little naked time and some infant massage before it is back into the diaper and back to dry land.
Chillin' with the little pirate duckies from Aunt Sian, from before I was born.
Bathtime with Daddy makes me HAPPY.
Little toesies.
Put up yer dukes.
Pointy little baby butt.
Ahh infant massage. Work my glutes. Very nice.
He gets to splash around a little before he gets washed down. He wriggles around in his little bath hammock while getting washed down. Finally he gets his hair shampooed and rinsed off. After the bath he gets wrapped up in a towel and dried off. If it is chilly we try to warm up the towel in the drier first. Then he gets a little naked time and some infant massage before it is back into the diaper and back to dry land.
Chillin' with the little pirate duckies from Aunt Sian, from before I was born.
Bathtime with Daddy makes me HAPPY.
Little toesies.
Put up yer dukes.
Pointy little baby butt.
Ahh infant massage. Work my glutes. Very nice.Saturday, May 23, 2009
Faces of Liam 2. Liam Then-And-Now.
Tis the season for blockbuster sequels, so I figured I'd post a sequel to the always popular "faces of Liam." This set of pictures was captured the day before Mother's Day (or what we like to think of as "Mothers Day Weekend") so you'll notice he's dressed in his spiffy I love Mommy onesie. Also, for your viewing pleasure I've included some little "Liam Then and Now" photos at the end.
Feet then:
Feet now:
Gunshow then:
Gunshow now:
Please note the "gun show" looks a lot like it did in utero, only chubbier guns this time around.
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Feet then:
Feet now:
Gunshow then:
Gunshow now:
Please note the "gun show" looks a lot like it did in utero, only chubbier guns this time around.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Reflections on Pumping
I recently joined an online group for parents of preemies. Sometimes it makes me cry. Sometimes it makes me feel lucky. But it always always makes me feel normal, like I'm not alone and not crazy because I hear my own thoughts and feelings so reguarly echoed in those of other preemie parents.
I saw a post on someone having emotional issues with pumping, and as a Queen pumper myself, I had to respond. It gave me a chance to reflect back on the pumping journey. At 6 weeks when I was at my lowest, I never thought I would make it to 12 weeks, let alone to 15. I could never have done it if I was still pumping 8 times a day, but by cutting down my pumps Liam still gets some breastmilk, and he also gets a much happier more engaged mom.
Here's what I wrote to that other mom:
I felt so much angst and guilt about pumping, even though I can now see looking back that I was pumping myself into a black hole that made me no kind of mother.
When I found out I was PPROM and delivered just shy of 34 weeks, I felt so horribly guilty that my body had failed my baby, I could barely forgive myself. Even though I did everything anyone ever recommended to me, it still wasnt enough. And so my milk became a sort of salvation. You read so much in the popular press about how it is perfect and it is liquid gold and even if I had failed my baby in that one huge way, my milk was this way to make up for it by providing to him something that only I could provide.
But by the end of the first week it was clear something was wrong. I was pumping 9 times a day for 20 minutes and still I had 1/3 of the full supply. After a series of lactation consultants I was eventually diagnosed with insufficient glandular tissue to provide a full supply. I wept. I had failed him again.
The day my baby left the NICU was the first time he had to be supplemented with formula because his hunger had finally outpaced my meager production. I held him in the special chair we bough to rock him and cried the whole time I fed it to him. But supplementing him wasnt as hard as the decision to give up on doing everything to make milk.
At this point I was on prescription drugs to increase my supply, the side effect of which is depression. I was taking herbal supplements 3x daily as well. my breasts ached constantly from carrying more milk than nature intended for them. I pumped round the clock and spend more time with my pump than my kid. I enviously watched my husband cuddle and feed our child.
it was agonizing, but very very worth it to drop off the pumps. After my 6 week check up I went from pumping 9 times a day to gradually decreasing to 4 times a day. I found 4 x daily a huge life improvement, and I only went from 16 oz daily when pumping 9 times to 13 oz when pumping 4 times. TOTALLY WORTH IT. I was happier and spending more time with my baby. I coasted at 4x daily until just recently. When I went down to 3x so I could get a little sleep my supply dropped off. Now i'm down to 2x for 8oz daily. I'll be sad when he gets his last bit of breastmilk.
And take comfort in this: I'm a PhD so I used my university access to actually read the medical studies on the benefits of breastmilk and I tell you that the popular press has vastly overstated the benefits of breastmilk. At least as far as research is able to determine, there are marginal benefits. In studies where they look at two kids in the same family with different breastfeeding histories, almost all of the usual "benefits" show up as insignificant. Perhaps this is a bit of sour grapes because I would certainly breastfeed if I could. But there is no evidence that you are damning your child to be obese, have high blood pressure, diabetes, be stupid or any of the other oft-touted health benefits of breastmilk over formula. Either way, from what science can determine, it is certainly not worth killing yourself over, which is what I was doing.
its tough to say no to competitive momming--to think that maybe someone else out there was enduring and pumping when you feel you can't go on-- or to feel you arent sacrificing everything if it would help you child. But a half dead mommy who is miserable from the pump is not good for you and certainly not good for your kiddo.
I saw a post on someone having emotional issues with pumping, and as a Queen pumper myself, I had to respond. It gave me a chance to reflect back on the pumping journey. At 6 weeks when I was at my lowest, I never thought I would make it to 12 weeks, let alone to 15. I could never have done it if I was still pumping 8 times a day, but by cutting down my pumps Liam still gets some breastmilk, and he also gets a much happier more engaged mom.
Here's what I wrote to that other mom:
I felt so much angst and guilt about pumping, even though I can now see looking back that I was pumping myself into a black hole that made me no kind of mother.
When I found out I was PPROM and delivered just shy of 34 weeks, I felt so horribly guilty that my body had failed my baby, I could barely forgive myself. Even though I did everything anyone ever recommended to me, it still wasnt enough. And so my milk became a sort of salvation. You read so much in the popular press about how it is perfect and it is liquid gold and even if I had failed my baby in that one huge way, my milk was this way to make up for it by providing to him something that only I could provide.
But by the end of the first week it was clear something was wrong. I was pumping 9 times a day for 20 minutes and still I had 1/3 of the full supply. After a series of lactation consultants I was eventually diagnosed with insufficient glandular tissue to provide a full supply. I wept. I had failed him again.
The day my baby left the NICU was the first time he had to be supplemented with formula because his hunger had finally outpaced my meager production. I held him in the special chair we bough to rock him and cried the whole time I fed it to him. But supplementing him wasnt as hard as the decision to give up on doing everything to make milk.
At this point I was on prescription drugs to increase my supply, the side effect of which is depression. I was taking herbal supplements 3x daily as well. my breasts ached constantly from carrying more milk than nature intended for them. I pumped round the clock and spend more time with my pump than my kid. I enviously watched my husband cuddle and feed our child.
it was agonizing, but very very worth it to drop off the pumps. After my 6 week check up I went from pumping 9 times a day to gradually decreasing to 4 times a day. I found 4 x daily a huge life improvement, and I only went from 16 oz daily when pumping 9 times to 13 oz when pumping 4 times. TOTALLY WORTH IT. I was happier and spending more time with my baby. I coasted at 4x daily until just recently. When I went down to 3x so I could get a little sleep my supply dropped off. Now i'm down to 2x for 8oz daily. I'll be sad when he gets his last bit of breastmilk.
And take comfort in this: I'm a PhD so I used my university access to actually read the medical studies on the benefits of breastmilk and I tell you that the popular press has vastly overstated the benefits of breastmilk. At least as far as research is able to determine, there are marginal benefits. In studies where they look at two kids in the same family with different breastfeeding histories, almost all of the usual "benefits" show up as insignificant. Perhaps this is a bit of sour grapes because I would certainly breastfeed if I could. But there is no evidence that you are damning your child to be obese, have high blood pressure, diabetes, be stupid or any of the other oft-touted health benefits of breastmilk over formula. Either way, from what science can determine, it is certainly not worth killing yourself over, which is what I was doing.
its tough to say no to competitive momming--to think that maybe someone else out there was enduring and pumping when you feel you can't go on-- or to feel you arent sacrificing everything if it would help you child. But a half dead mommy who is miserable from the pump is not good for you and certainly not good for your kiddo.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Thank you for staying
Some mornings I can't help myself, and I don't want to feel alone in the challenges of preemie parenting. So while I tried to get Liam to sleep in his crib, I read blogs of preemie parents.
First I came across the Micro Mom Blog. It was like unraveling one family's personal admixture of joy and pain in reverse chronology, starting with the recent post about how her 3 year old is developmentally delayed and is only now exhibiting signs of happiness. Meanwhile her infant son, born 6 weeks early (actually I later discover he was 34 weeks 5 days, so almost a week older than Liam at 33w6d) is now 12 weeks delayed. My heart sinks at the thought that they can move backward. The post below shows them walking in the march of dimes. The shirts say they walk for Kaitlyn and Quinn, her 3year and 9 month olds, and in memory of Corinne. Who is Corinne? What is the story? I find a link to photos labeled "Corinne and Kaitlyn's birth" and I click on it.
The photo set of her twins being born has to be one of the more vulnerable, raw moments of love and pain Ive ever laid eyes on.
I flipped back and forth among photos entranced and confused. I recognized the breathing tube on baby Kaitlyn as the scuba gear Liam had worn. But baby Corinne wore none. In one photo the red little baby grips the finger of her mom, who looks down smiling but with sadness. As the photos progressed the baby's color turned ashen, which really only became obvious in a photo where the twins lay side by side holding hands. Kaitlin is a reddish orange tangle of monitor wires and breathing tubes. Corinne wears nothing. The final photo was titled "Angel Corinne. Tears were already flowing down my face. Had she been dead all along? Or had I just been privy to her slow departure as the frames clicked by? I went to the album page where a small blurb explained, "Kaitlyn and Corinne were born 13 weeks too soon. Sadly, Corinne passed away in our arms a few hours after she was born. Each of our girls weighed 1.5 lbs."
Before we ever knew Liam would come early, our birth book encouraged us to think of what we'd want to do if the baby died or was stillborn. It encouraged us to dress the baby and take pictures with him because otherwise in the daze of the moment well-meaning hospital staff might whisk him away. We cried talking about it even when it was just theoretical. On my day of bedrest that conversation replayed at the edges of my consciousness while I held it at bay hoping & praying it would not come true.
I also found a post on a NYT blog that was beautifully written that more perfectly captures the NICU experience than anything else I've read or anything I could put to words myself about how having a preemie in the NICU makes the process of falling in love with your baby more complicated. And it helps explain why it is forever different, even though Liam wasn't super early, even if as of now he seems okay.
If you dont have a preemie and want to understand better how the process changes you, spend some time reading the article and force yourself to cry through some of the pictures of sweet Corinne. If you have your own preemie experience, you might find some comfort in knowing you aren't alone.
By the time I finished these two reads, I had tried to put Liam down four times, and each time he slept peacefully for 10-15 minutes before waking up crying. Finally I went in and just cradled him to me, wishing I could forever keep him safe inside my heart. I rocked him and whispered in his ear "Thank you for staying. Please don't ever leave us. God thank you for this baby." And I decided today was a good day to just hold him in my arms and enjoy him while he napped. The dishwasher and shower can wait. My baby will never again be 15 weeks, 7 hours and 26 minutes old.
First I came across the Micro Mom Blog. It was like unraveling one family's personal admixture of joy and pain in reverse chronology, starting with the recent post about how her 3 year old is developmentally delayed and is only now exhibiting signs of happiness. Meanwhile her infant son, born 6 weeks early (actually I later discover he was 34 weeks 5 days, so almost a week older than Liam at 33w6d) is now 12 weeks delayed. My heart sinks at the thought that they can move backward. The post below shows them walking in the march of dimes. The shirts say they walk for Kaitlyn and Quinn, her 3year and 9 month olds, and in memory of Corinne. Who is Corinne? What is the story? I find a link to photos labeled "Corinne and Kaitlyn's birth" and I click on it.
The photo set of her twins being born has to be one of the more vulnerable, raw moments of love and pain Ive ever laid eyes on.
I flipped back and forth among photos entranced and confused. I recognized the breathing tube on baby Kaitlyn as the scuba gear Liam had worn. But baby Corinne wore none. In one photo the red little baby grips the finger of her mom, who looks down smiling but with sadness. As the photos progressed the baby's color turned ashen, which really only became obvious in a photo where the twins lay side by side holding hands. Kaitlin is a reddish orange tangle of monitor wires and breathing tubes. Corinne wears nothing. The final photo was titled "Angel Corinne. Tears were already flowing down my face. Had she been dead all along? Or had I just been privy to her slow departure as the frames clicked by? I went to the album page where a small blurb explained, "Kaitlyn and Corinne were born 13 weeks too soon. Sadly, Corinne passed away in our arms a few hours after she was born. Each of our girls weighed 1.5 lbs."
Before we ever knew Liam would come early, our birth book encouraged us to think of what we'd want to do if the baby died or was stillborn. It encouraged us to dress the baby and take pictures with him because otherwise in the daze of the moment well-meaning hospital staff might whisk him away. We cried talking about it even when it was just theoretical. On my day of bedrest that conversation replayed at the edges of my consciousness while I held it at bay hoping & praying it would not come true.
I also found a post on a NYT blog that was beautifully written that more perfectly captures the NICU experience than anything else I've read or anything I could put to words myself about how having a preemie in the NICU makes the process of falling in love with your baby more complicated. And it helps explain why it is forever different, even though Liam wasn't super early, even if as of now he seems okay.
If you dont have a preemie and want to understand better how the process changes you, spend some time reading the article and force yourself to cry through some of the pictures of sweet Corinne. If you have your own preemie experience, you might find some comfort in knowing you aren't alone.
By the time I finished these two reads, I had tried to put Liam down four times, and each time he slept peacefully for 10-15 minutes before waking up crying. Finally I went in and just cradled him to me, wishing I could forever keep him safe inside my heart. I rocked him and whispered in his ear "Thank you for staying. Please don't ever leave us. God thank you for this baby." And I decided today was a good day to just hold him in my arms and enjoy him while he napped. The dishwasher and shower can wait. My baby will never again be 15 weeks, 7 hours and 26 minutes old.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
My First Mother's Day
My first mothers day was a wonderful reminder that I am blessed with an incredible husband and partner, and that together we have the start of an amazing family. When I arrived home on friday night from taking Liam to a meeting of the Sociology Mother's Club (where we planned to watch a movie but really just ate lasagna, drank wine, and jawed about motherhood). When I got to the door there was an awesome little poster with pictures of me and Liam on it, and a list of all the awesome things I was going to enjoy on my Mother's Day weekend. I was getting an entire weekend because Terry was invited to give a job talk at Vanderbilt University for a tenure track position, and the only time they could fly him out was Sunday May 10th.
It was a couple of weeks after this was finalized before we put two and two together and realized that was Mother's Day. Terry was devastated. Definitely more devastated than I was even. He felt terrible leaving me for any part of my first Mother's Day. We had a very nice little moment in the kitchen where I look his face in my hands and reminded him that he is a wonderful husband and father every single day, that he goes out of his way to be an equal parent to Liam, and that in no way was he allowed to feel badly because on one particular date set by Hallmark he might have to miss part of the date because he was out trying to get a job and secure our family's financial future.
The first thing on my list of Mother's Day treats began Friday night, as Terry took the entire night shift and I got to sleep until 7:30 AM for the first time in, ummm, I can't remember.
Then when I went into bed to sleep, I found two presents on my pillow: a Wonder Woman t-shirt and a comic book to enjoy. I crept silently back into the kiddo's room where Terry was lightly snoring on the futon and gave him a giant kiss.
Saturday morning Terry went shopping for food to make an amazing Saturday dinner and Sunday brunch. When he got back from the grocery store he told me that the next part of my treat was to get to go to the gym and work out to my heart's content. When I emerged from the bedroom in my workout gear he told me I got my first present. He gave me a Sigg water bottle, which I have been wanting for a few months.
When I got back, feeling great, I got to sit on the couch and read while I held a sweet little sleeping baby. Terry busied himself in the kitchen making Mario Batali's shrimp scampi over linguini. It was a delicious combination of jumbo shrimp from Whole Foods, soaked in jalapeno pepper, fresh mint, and fennel fronds with a little olive oil thrown in for good measure.
Before dinner he gave me another one of my Mother's Day presents. I told him that I could wait until Sunday morning if he wanted, but he told me he was too excited to wait. I closed my eyes and he gave me a small jewelry box. Inside was a beautiful silver locket. On one side are two tiny baby footprints. On the other side it has Liam's name and birthdate and a frame to put in his little picture. It was so beautiful I started crying. It was exactly what I wanted. I couldn't have picked a better charm myself. And to make it more sweet, it was designed by a mother-owned company. The mom started the company because when her baby was born premature she couldnt find a baby bracelet small enough for him. That little touch with other preemie parents felt extra special.
When I woke up on Sunday morning I once again got to play with the baby while Terry worked his magic in the kitchen. Pretty soon I was being served up crepes. But not just any crepes. He had cooked up fresh blackberries, strawberries and peaches with grand marinier and rum. This sauce was served aside some fresh uncooked fruit. The whole thing was topped off with the most amazing decadent things I've had ever: he whipped creme fraiche with balsamic vinegar and a little sugar. Amazing. Beyond belief good. He tells me it is definitely not healthy. And I tell him it is worth it.
It was a wonderful way to spend my first Mother's Day.
It was a couple of weeks after this was finalized before we put two and two together and realized that was Mother's Day. Terry was devastated. Definitely more devastated than I was even. He felt terrible leaving me for any part of my first Mother's Day. We had a very nice little moment in the kitchen where I look his face in my hands and reminded him that he is a wonderful husband and father every single day, that he goes out of his way to be an equal parent to Liam, and that in no way was he allowed to feel badly because on one particular date set by Hallmark he might have to miss part of the date because he was out trying to get a job and secure our family's financial future.
The first thing on my list of Mother's Day treats began Friday night, as Terry took the entire night shift and I got to sleep until 7:30 AM for the first time in, ummm, I can't remember.
Then when I went into bed to sleep, I found two presents on my pillow: a Wonder Woman t-shirt and a comic book to enjoy. I crept silently back into the kiddo's room where Terry was lightly snoring on the futon and gave him a giant kiss.
Saturday morning Terry went shopping for food to make an amazing Saturday dinner and Sunday brunch. When he got back from the grocery store he told me that the next part of my treat was to get to go to the gym and work out to my heart's content. When I emerged from the bedroom in my workout gear he told me I got my first present. He gave me a Sigg water bottle, which I have been wanting for a few months.
When I got back, feeling great, I got to sit on the couch and read while I held a sweet little sleeping baby. Terry busied himself in the kitchen making Mario Batali's shrimp scampi over linguini. It was a delicious combination of jumbo shrimp from Whole Foods, soaked in jalapeno pepper, fresh mint, and fennel fronds with a little olive oil thrown in for good measure.
Before dinner he gave me another one of my Mother's Day presents. I told him that I could wait until Sunday morning if he wanted, but he told me he was too excited to wait. I closed my eyes and he gave me a small jewelry box. Inside was a beautiful silver locket. On one side are two tiny baby footprints. On the other side it has Liam's name and birthdate and a frame to put in his little picture. It was so beautiful I started crying. It was exactly what I wanted. I couldn't have picked a better charm myself. And to make it more sweet, it was designed by a mother-owned company. The mom started the company because when her baby was born premature she couldnt find a baby bracelet small enough for him. That little touch with other preemie parents felt extra special.
When I woke up on Sunday morning I once again got to play with the baby while Terry worked his magic in the kitchen. Pretty soon I was being served up crepes. But not just any crepes. He had cooked up fresh blackberries, strawberries and peaches with grand marinier and rum. This sauce was served aside some fresh uncooked fruit. The whole thing was topped off with the most amazing decadent things I've had ever: he whipped creme fraiche with balsamic vinegar and a little sugar. Amazing. Beyond belief good. He tells me it is definitely not healthy. And I tell him it is worth it.
It was a wonderful way to spend my first Mother's Day.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Chicago Baby Shower
I have been seriously behind in posting photos from our final baby shower, hosted by our fabulous Chicago friends. This shower was initially scheduled for January 31st, but had to be rescheduled when Liam decided to make his appearance early. He was born on January 30th, so he nearly turned the shower into a birthday party!
Gabrielle and Chris graciously rescheduled everything, so we had the party about a week before the little man came home from the NICU. It was a trying and exhausting period of our lives, and it was a wonderful respite to take a break to spend time with friends. I was even more exhausted than usual, because this was the day that two licensed lactation consultants had finally diagnosed me with an anatomical problem that would prevent me from ever having a full milk supply. It was the relief of finally knowing what was wrong when I was so busy killing myself pumping to no avail. But it was also traumatic news that effectively ended my dreams of being an exclusively nursing mother. I drove home from the NICU that day sobbing my eyes out. After a brief break at home to pull myself together (and, you guessed it, pump) I headed out to the party and the comfort of friends.
We had amazing BBQ pulled pork from Heckys (some of which is still in my freezer and still delicious...we had some for dinner last night). Gab decorated with flowers and blue and white balloons. We had a monkey cake (to eat), a diaper cake (to use later) and some of John's killer blackbottom cupcakes. Friends each brought a book that they loved from their childhood, so by the end of the party we had a wonderful little baby library of books to keep Liam reading well into toddlerhood.
The party, in retrospect, was amazing for marking a turning point. This last phase of life as a couple in Chicago has been one of the best times of my life. We have had the fullness of good friends, of structured social engagements, and easy casual get-togethers. We have been spoiled to live just blocks away from friends. As each year passes and more friends graduate and move away to jobs, the tide of our time here has been turning. And this year it appears will be our last in Chicago. So this party marks in many ways the end of an era: the end of coupledom and the beginning of family. The end of easy social engagements and the beginning of being social with baby. The end of Chicago and the beginning of a new chapter. But no matter where we go, may we always be in touch with the wonderful folks we met here in Chicago.
Heather, Harvey and Michaela all help get things ready for the party. The amazing diaper cake that Gab and Berit put together. Nearly 200 diapers to keep that tiny butt dry in his first weeks home.
Friends mix and mingle.
Gab, our hostess, giving a sweet and moving toast to our friendshipo and impending parenthood.
Men vs Women in a sex and baby trivia contest.
Dishing up the darling (and delicious) monkey-themed cake Sian picked out.
Smiling with Sian at the end of a very long week at the NICU.
A much belated but hearty thank you to everyone who rearranged schedules to be there. And a heartfelt thanks to all the friends who worked together to pull the party off. You are amazing.
Gabrielle and Chris graciously rescheduled everything, so we had the party about a week before the little man came home from the NICU. It was a trying and exhausting period of our lives, and it was a wonderful respite to take a break to spend time with friends. I was even more exhausted than usual, because this was the day that two licensed lactation consultants had finally diagnosed me with an anatomical problem that would prevent me from ever having a full milk supply. It was the relief of finally knowing what was wrong when I was so busy killing myself pumping to no avail. But it was also traumatic news that effectively ended my dreams of being an exclusively nursing mother. I drove home from the NICU that day sobbing my eyes out. After a brief break at home to pull myself together (and, you guessed it, pump) I headed out to the party and the comfort of friends.
We had amazing BBQ pulled pork from Heckys (some of which is still in my freezer and still delicious...we had some for dinner last night). Gab decorated with flowers and blue and white balloons. We had a monkey cake (to eat), a diaper cake (to use later) and some of John's killer blackbottom cupcakes. Friends each brought a book that they loved from their childhood, so by the end of the party we had a wonderful little baby library of books to keep Liam reading well into toddlerhood.
The party, in retrospect, was amazing for marking a turning point. This last phase of life as a couple in Chicago has been one of the best times of my life. We have had the fullness of good friends, of structured social engagements, and easy casual get-togethers. We have been spoiled to live just blocks away from friends. As each year passes and more friends graduate and move away to jobs, the tide of our time here has been turning. And this year it appears will be our last in Chicago. So this party marks in many ways the end of an era: the end of coupledom and the beginning of family. The end of easy social engagements and the beginning of being social with baby. The end of Chicago and the beginning of a new chapter. But no matter where we go, may we always be in touch with the wonderful folks we met here in Chicago.
Heather, Harvey and Michaela all help get things ready for the party. The amazing diaper cake that Gab and Berit put together. Nearly 200 diapers to keep that tiny butt dry in his first weeks home.
Friends mix and mingle.
Gab, our hostess, giving a sweet and moving toast to our friendshipo and impending parenthood.
Men vs Women in a sex and baby trivia contest.
Dishing up the darling (and delicious) monkey-themed cake Sian picked out.
Smiling with Sian at the end of a very long week at the NICU.
A much belated but hearty thank you to everyone who rearranged schedules to be there. And a heartfelt thanks to all the friends who worked together to pull the party off. You are amazing.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Quick personality update
Lately Liam has been a lot more alert. He's clearly observing things, taking them in. He smiles now with his eyes open, not just the sleep smiles. He's not all the way to routinely giggling at Terry's escalading efforts to entertain him, but we get a quality smile at least half of the time. It is very rewarding. I have to keep reminding myself that although he's 13 weeks old, developmentally he's only a 7 week old, working on his second month milestones.
He is also increasingly aware of his hands, and using them more as meaningful extensions of his will. He LOVES his playmat, and now takes swipes at the hanging animals above him. And when he wants to be done with a bottle he not only makes a face and pokes the nipple out with his tongue, he also swipes at the bottle and pushes it away. Although this is a little bit irritating because he needs to keep taking full feeds instead of becoming the consummate little snacker, it is also truly amazing to see him having this increasing sense of self, and using those chubby little paws to exert his will.
Tummy time progresses apace, and he is getting better and better head control, and is able to maintain his head up for longer. He still hasn't quite got the hang of using his hands to help push himself up, so it is still mostly a trunk exercise for him.
Thanks for those who offer encouragement or inquire about what progress he's making. Raising a preemie is a continuous exercise in reminding yourself not to engage in competitive parenting, and to have the grace and good sense to allow the baby to develop at his own pace. We will provide a loving and stimulating environment, but there is no rushing the little guy. And that's just how it should be.
He is also increasingly aware of his hands, and using them more as meaningful extensions of his will. He LOVES his playmat, and now takes swipes at the hanging animals above him. And when he wants to be done with a bottle he not only makes a face and pokes the nipple out with his tongue, he also swipes at the bottle and pushes it away. Although this is a little bit irritating because he needs to keep taking full feeds instead of becoming the consummate little snacker, it is also truly amazing to see him having this increasing sense of self, and using those chubby little paws to exert his will.
Tummy time progresses apace, and he is getting better and better head control, and is able to maintain his head up for longer. He still hasn't quite got the hang of using his hands to help push himself up, so it is still mostly a trunk exercise for him.
Thanks for those who offer encouragement or inquire about what progress he's making. Raising a preemie is a continuous exercise in reminding yourself not to engage in competitive parenting, and to have the grace and good sense to allow the baby to develop at his own pace. We will provide a loving and stimulating environment, but there is no rushing the little guy. And that's just how it should be.
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