9 Months Already? (OR: Hey, are you eating that?)

Maybe it was the 8 1/2 months that Jaideep didn't sleep through the night, or maybe it was the hormonal roller coaster of motherhood plus multiple jobs, whatever the case... we've got a 9+ month old already!

He's got teeth and knows how to turn on and off the faucet. He's standing and bouncing to music. He roars like a lion and laughs and laughs when dada tickles him. He punds his fists on the table when you don't get food to his hands fast enough. He's not interested in baby food, and he loves trying to keep up with bigger kids. Jaideep's a busy little man. The pediatrician has recommended trying to keep hour little Pinto of a baby from harming himself while not standing in the way of progress.

To that end, we're working to give care without ruining the fun of discovery. After all, how would you know what floor spice or snow taste like if you didn't try them?

Next on the agenda: Walking.

Mr. Big Stuff

It's 11PM on a week night. We're on Fall Break, so there's no school tomorrow. Ajay's out for guy's night. Jaideep's sleeping. I'm, well, I'm regretting coffee at 3PM, but being thankful for some productivity.

Baby's keeping us busy -- he's not that into being a baby, you see, so he's working on being more like a big kid all the time. No, we're not toilet trained yet, but we are watching our little friend do his own version of crawling, standing up when given something to hold onto, and teething up a storm.

There are newer pictures on Picassa:
http://picasaweb.google.com/britta.watters/JRCMonths4And502?authkey=Gv1sRgCMT-waalmMzJugE#
but the real highlights are in the everyday world. We get a few things on video from time to time, but most of the excitement takes place out of view of the lens.

Some memorable moments... well, there are my continued attempts at nursing peppered with his continual attempts to 'help' by grabbing at the non-feeding breast ... with his hand closing into a tight fist that has a lobster grip I can't loosen around the feeding part. That's always fun. Or, let's see, there's his new language that falls somewhere between what I imagine coming from an excited screech owl and an angry lion. It's not unhappy, it's just screechy and at a volume of somewhere around 11 on the dial. Yes, 11. But, overall, it's all good. He loves being outside, so I'm hoping we can stretch some more Fall out of TN this year. He loves bathtime, likes being up on his dad's shoulders, enjoys being around people. He travels well and is starting to eat various very soupy foods.

I'm hoping that teething gets better or goes faster -- still no teeth, just a lot of drool, desperate screaming at random times, and gnawing on anything that's near the mouth. I'm also hoping he'll be able to get the sitting thing figured out (he goes from tummy to all fours to sitting for a minute, ... then topples over). Until then, we just keep on keeping on.

And childproofing.

Going Cold Pork

Cold turkey, cold pork... whatever. let me just begin by saying that leftover, 2-day old pulled pork BBQ never tasted as good as it did during lunch today. I was on Day 4 of soup lunch (more on the weekly menu later) and the Title 1 ladies downstairs announced that there was leftover BBQ from the Open House we had Tuesday night. The same Tuesday night that I didn't get home until after 8 and the same Tuesday night that I only got to see the baby briefly when he woke up to eat. The same Tuesday that I realized that I do miss him if I don't get to play with him at least a little everyday. So, thanks long day at school!

Now that I'm becoming an efficiency expert, I'm taking lunches for the whole week to school on Monday. The easiest way to do this is to make something durable on Sunday and take it in daily portions. This was going well until I had a few days last week that I was starving by 1:00 and needed something extra... like the next day's lunch. (For anyone working in a 'real job,' teaching is NOT the kind of career where you can just take a break, head to a break room -- we don't even have a lounge, get a vending maching treat - no vending here, and stroll on back to the desk when you please -- that's why it's an issue.) So, I figured that bringing a bigger container of soup would be great -- hot, cold, however -- it's fast & easy. I can essentially drink it in front of kids. Perfect!

Well, until you're on Day 4 of the same soup. This is where the deliciousness of pulled pork entered today's picture. Right. On. Time. I'll be a much better adjusted person for it, too.

On the home front, Little Man is quickly becoming just that: a fully functional small man. He's started doing some very man-type things. Ogling breasts. becoming very protective of his food. Laughing when he poops. Laughing at my disappointed face when he spits up. Moving himself backward on all fours.

Wait a minute...

Moving. Yes, at four-and-a-half months out little friend has decided to become mobile. He was sort of mobile before -- rolling here and there, pivoting on his tummy, ooching forward. But, when I picked him up from 'school' yesterday the aftercare teacher said, "Well, you know he's crawling backward." "No, I didn't know he was crawling backward." (Insert awkward I-don't-know-my-own-child look here.) "Oh, maybe he just started that today." Apparently he did. This weekend he managed to get up on all fours and rock / lunge forward and backward -- getting the tummy off the ground was the last thing keeping him more or less in one place -- so I knew that the end was near. I just didn't calculate HOW near.

So, last night I get him home, we get our evening things taken care of, and playtime begins. I put his favorite toy in front of him and lay him on his tummy in front of it. He looks at it with utter delight (which changes to a maniacal grin) as he draws himself up onto all fours -- he's going to come get it. Or not. This is where he starts to move legs and arms, but they propel him further backward with each motion. He starts to talk to the offending toy, to me, to the four walls... I'm sure that it was something that would translate loosely as, "Why are you moving away from me! I want to put you in my mouth and gum you to death!" Then I started laughing, then the talking changed to squawking. I moved the toy closer. He got excited again -- looked at it with renewed concentration, started moving again. Backward.

So, for the time being we're stuck in reverse. Some people spend their whole life 'bass ackwards', from what I can tell. However, I believe this to be temporary. For now, I'll add to the weekend efficiency plan some lunch variety and childproofing, and we'll see how long it takes this man to get turned around without stopping and asking for directions.

And Miles To Go Before I Sleep

Ajay and I went out Saturday night for a super dorky date night. The NPR show "Says You" was taping in Nashville for the upcoming season and, wouldn't you know it, a show that advertises itself as one of "wit and whimsy, bluff and bluster" was just what I needed to feel grow up and human again. So human, in fact, that we went to Sunset Grill afterward to dine off the late night menu (it was about 10PM, but... hey, they're the ones who put the night menu out at that time).

It was there that we learned out waiter is a first year social studies (U.S. History) teacher in a Metro middle school. Oh, how I feel for our server. This is the school where the students literally stampeded the principal last year when she tripped and fell -- then kicked her while she was down. I'm not kidding. Poor waiter. Poor principal, but at least she's been in the system for years and gets paid 3x what poor waiter makes. So, our new friend --after I assure him the kids DO need him and that he CAN survive, just wear sturdy shoes-- says he knows he's got miles to go before he sleeps.

Indeed. I couldn't have said it better, so I won't bother trying. I do have miles to go before I sleep. I'm back to school, Little Man's started his Montessori adventure, Ajay's still trucking with his business, and I'm pulling two other jobs while all this is happening. How I'm doing this, I don't know. I just know that we're going to keep on keeping on, and it could always be worse.

For the time being, we're glad that Jaideep's getting bigger everyday and adjusting well to private school. He's the youngest in his class, but he's by far the best looking and smartest (or, so I will tell you). He's busy making friends with the ladies, all older, and there's one in particular -- a 10 month old-- we're attempting to steer him away from. Not only is the age difference too much, but she's very high need. Cries all the time about little things -- like when she's bored. Jaideep's not that type of guy. He's down to crying when there is a need. Other than that, he's generally all about smiling and laughing -- mostly because he knows that HE is TOO funny! We're all just along for the ride.

So, ride we will. There may be miles to go before we sleep, but at least we're all three in this together.

And... pictures! 1st Day of School (Where are we going? What's that? People to entertain? Hooray!)

Time Flies When You're Changing Diapers

So, 10 weeks down. If we were a factory, I'd say we'd had no lost time accidents so far. You know, no trips to the ED, no hours spent awake watching for evidence of a concussion, no calls to Poison Control... you get the picture.

We have had our fair share of mostly sleepless nights, miserable days full of screaming, poop that knows no bounds, and puke that means changing big and little outfits for a third or fourth time in a given day. But, I hear that's pretty standard. Note: "I hear" ... not "I heard."

Somehow, in the PK (Pre-Kid) times, our friends neglected to mention that new babies are gross, largely unrewarding, have a high cost to low benefit ratio, and suck one's will to live... even as they breastfeed themselves off to LaLaLand. Now, before anyone dares send me some indignant email about how precious these little miracles are, keep in mind that --apparently-- time distorts memory and hormones alter it. While you might think I'm being overly critical now, I maintain this is a more honest and true to fact assessment of early stage parenting than most people would dare give. Sure, I love this baby, but I'm also very convinced there's a not-so-niche market out there for substitute parents.

Just like we have substitute teachers in schools.... imagine if you could call in a sub to parent through the gross times. Parents for 2-12 week olds, parents for 2 year olds, parents for teens. Parents to order. Sure, this would cost a family a fortune, but I think people would be willing to find the cash. Especially after about the 15th straight night of no more than 3 hours' sleep. Three hours total--throughout the whole night. No, I don't mean all at once. That's adding up the minutes slept from 8PM to 8AM. Three hours cobbled together from 10 to 30 minute stretches. That sort of three hours. People would pay to retain their sanity. Now, to find these substitute parents...

Until I track down or groom some substitutes, we'll keep doing this ourselves. Fortunately, it's improving. 6-7 weeks was crummy. I'd have considered leaving Jaideep with, well, a substitute family of wolves? That might be a stretch, but barely. Since then, he's gotten to be more pleasant. He's started to interact with me, not just my breasts. He'll smile and coo in addition to crying and frowning. This implies that he might continue to improve to the point that we'll eventually forget the first weeks.

It seems that's what happens to everyone else, after all. I can't imagine that all these people who didn't tell us about the rough start are part of a global conspiracy to bring others into the cult of parenthood. That this 'not knowing' phase is like parental hazing and those who've been down this road sit back and laugh that we're in the thick of it. ... ... ... Or, maybe I can. Maybe this is how people who are parents conspire to keep their childless friends as friends: "I know, let's tell them it's great and then they'll have to suffer, too!" [Sinister laughter.]

More likely though, the hormones and time are the conspirators in this one. Erasing bad memories, replacing them with good, etc. So, until those kick in and I start saying things about babies being amazing little baskets of joy, I'll be dreaming up recruiting materials for some star substitute parents and enjoying the little rewards (3 consecutive hours of sleep, smiles and coos) as they come.

Pregnancy Bloopers and Life's Practical Jokes

As of today, we're starting Week 3 as a family of three. So far, so good. Jaideep eats every three to four hours most of the time, and sometimes thrills me with a five hour stretch of sleep at night. When not eating or sleeping, he continues to practice mixed martial arts by punching and kicking in the air or at whatever part of a grown up body is nearby. As I'd noted based on the kicks and jabs from the inside out, he's strong. This is now very apparent to others.

Being above average, he's already figured out how to roll from back to side to front by swinging his swaddled legs in the desired direction until the rest of his body follows. While the nurse at the pediatrician's office says this is just reflexes, I'm sufficiently sure it's skill that he is laid down with rolled blankets to prevent movement.

We'll go for a 3-week well baby check up on Friday, so until then there's not a lot of new baby news. That being the case, I thought I'd go ahead an fess up to some embarrassments from the past nine months -- then, when the new weight and length numbers come on Friday, those will be read and these little 'oops moments' will be forgotten.

Top Three "Are You Serious?" Moments
3) The Milk Comes from WHERE?
We've all heard that public education is failing our children, but I thought my public education had been the exception to the rule. Our school was good -- we had small classes before they were good policy, certified teachers with what we were sure must have been eons of experience, and parents that we were sure were far TOO involved. Well, I think that my sophomore spring semester of Health or the senior semester of Parenting (taken when I decided Physics wasn't for me and I didn't care if I would need it in college--which I didn't) might have needed some tweaking.
Oh, poor Pete. (Mrs. Peterson to some, I'm sure, but we all called her Pete.) She got saddled with teaching us about all the things that the other teachers didn't want to get involved with (well, not on school time)--Health was mostly about drugs and sex. I remember a June calendar being used to explain 'natural family planning' and about half the class being able to draw the conclusion that no one should have sex on Flag Day without understanding why. I remember watching a classic 80's comedy that we argued (somehow) dealt with depression after our mental health unit. (Yes, I now realize it was the end of the semester and she wanted to teach almost as much as we wanted to learn.)
I do NOT remember being told anything about breastfeeding. One would think that either in Health or the semester of Parenting I took from Mrs. McNeil this might have come up. Parenting, as it turned out, was more about NOT getting into a condition that would require one to do any parenting. The miracle of life, as AlWood High School would have it, was something none of us should be thinking about for a long time to come.
That being the extent of my education about the topic for the next 15 years, it was a shock when I learned from a fellow teacher in my current public school that apparently girls are NOT constructed like bottles. You could have knocked me over with a feather when she explained to me in detail how the "milk comes from everywhere" and that it doesn't only exit at feeding times. Why didn't someone tell me that girls are more like fire sprinklers than baby bottles? She followed up her description with, "Oh, didn't you KNOW that already?" No, I didn't... but, this would probably have a pretty positive impact on reducing teen pregnancy in Illinois were it included in the curriculum.

2) It's Not Working, Maybe I Should Try It Somewhere Else...
I got a breast pump as a gift. Once I got over the idea of milk coming from "everywhere" it seemed practical to get ready to save up some of this wonderful stuff in the freezer for those times when it's needed and I'm nowhere to be found.
So, I hook up this milker (as I affectionately call it). Pretty simple. A bottle twists onto a tube that attaches to a pump, and this hooks onto a funnel-shaped plastic thing that goes on the udder, er... breast. I turn it on and stick it against my stomach. Nothing happens. How odd-- it's got new batteries, it's making a milking noise. So, I turn up the suction to medium and still nothing. I figure that maybe it's defective and turn it up to maximum. This is when it dawns on me that, maybe, it needs to be attached to the correct body part to work. I hold it up to an udder and, come to find out, it's working GREAT. So great, in fact, that the milker starts to make a straining sound and I feel a sucking pressure that makes me think it's going to either do damage to its motor or me.
Lesson learned: Do not milk on max unless cosmetic surgery is in your future.

1) I'm Your Demo Model
Finally, knowing where milk comes from and how to extract it, we go to the hospital to have this baby via induction and, after tons of paperwork, we're told to get comfortable and take a walk -- the IV will be coming soon and that will be the end of walking outside the room.
I put on a cute little terrycloth nightie I'd picked out at Target in the NOT maternity section (so, it's a little snug, but terrycloth stretches and I'm not going to be pregnant for much longer), throw on a hospital gown as a robe, and get the flip flops back on (since they still fit the fluid-fattened feet) for a spin around the L&D floor.
Ajay and I head out on the trek, and as I waddle toward the doors to the outside world in my delivery best--sans make up or good hair-- they swing open to reveal a heard of pregnant women and their husbands along with our former birth class instructor!
Yes, we'd ended up in the middle of her tour of the Labor and Delivery unit, we become the evening's sideshow for these people-- rather like the poor woman who was screaming "Carter!" and her husband, who we assumed was named Carter. And, of course, the instructor not only recognizes us but presents us in all our glory to the 20 people following her. "This is Ajay and Britta. They were in my last class. How are you?"
Well, that was a dumb question to ask because the woman in labor waiting to be hooked to machines for the foreseeable future will tell you the truth. I tell them about the amniotic fluid leaking, having to get induced, and about not being able to use the pool or shower. After telling them that they'll all get to be here just like me someday, I invite anyone who'd like to watch to come on down to our room.
We had no takers.
What? Was it something I said?
When we sent an email to the birth class people to let them know we'd delivered, she wrote back to say that she was 'excited' we'd always have her class as a part of our L&D memories. I bet 'excited' might not be the first word that came to mind, but that it probably seemed nicer in an email than some other words she could have used.

So, more baby news to come. For the time being, check out the pictures I'm uploading to Picassa at: http://picasaweb.google.com/britta.watters/LittleJaideepTheFirstMonth#

He's Here (...or, Why I Loved the Epidural)

Jaideep Reed Chawan is here and he's now a day old. He's managed to do a lot in the past day -- he's got the eating thing down, he's busy making us little (and not so little) gifts in his diapers, he sneezes, and makes a lot of interesting faces. And, after the initial self-abuse, he's had his hands covered and he's stopped scratching his face. So much progress! Clearly, he's something special.

While the journey is important, his arrival reminded me that getting there isn't always half the fun. Granted, this journey didn't involve taking off my shoes for security checks and making sure all my liquids were in 3oz containers, but there were some hassles and delays. We got to the hospital a little after 5PM and filled out a ton of paperwork. They put us into a room and the nurse took a bunch more information -- all things that should already be in my charts, but... maybe this is the secret double-check? By this time, we were almost at the 7PM shift change, and one of the nurses delivered the bad news to me that having had Pitocin ordered meant 1) it would be delivered via IV along with fluids and I'd be tied to an IV tree for the duration, and 2) there would be no happy pain relieving showers because Pitocin also means continuous monitoring of baby's vitals and mom's contractions. Delightful.

Once they got this monitoring going, the checked me over again and found that we were 80% effaced and 3cm dilated. Surely this Pitocin would help things along quickly. Or not. Five hours later, it's midnight and I'm checked again. Everything's the same on the inside. On the outside, I'm feeling some mighty pains. How was it possible this had been for nothing? Grrrr. So, the midwife tells us that we'll give things another hour or so and then we might need to make some decisions about what to do (read: how to intervene and get the kid out).

As nature / Pitocin drips would have it, by 1AM I'm standing and squatting next to the bed, miserable with pain that is apparently doing nothing. I tell Ajay to call the nurse -- I need some drugs of the dangerous sort. Whatever you have, I'll take two and pronto! Fortunately, because I was out of my designated location, the nurse came to me and we didn't even need to call. She called the anesthesiology people and we waited for them to come for what seemed like hours when, all of a sudden, there was a giant popping sound and a giant movie-style gush of water and other mess splats to the floor. I thought I'd been in pain before, but I'd been wrong. This event brought me to tears and started me shaking with pain. Not exactly something I'd expected.

When the bearers of good drugs appeared, they couldn't find some oxygen monitoring sensor and I was forced to wait -- sitting upright on the edge of the bed, curled over, clutching a pillow and the nurse, while not moving -- though another 3 or 4 miserable contractions. They gave me something in the drip that was supposed to feel like a 'couple glasses of wine' and --having had a couple glasses once upon a time, I can say with certitude that this was more like a bottle and a couple glasses. It didn't help the pain, but I didn't care as much -- call me a cab, it's time to go home! Finally they get the right equipment, hook me up to more things, and proceed with stabbing me in the spine. Comfortable it was not, but when she offered to do a second stab to put in some combination spinal something that would make things take effect faster, Ajay reports that I said, "Faster is good." Things were bad enough that speaking like a 2-year-old was the best I could do.

Another jab later, and my legs started feeling tingly and heavy, and relief was on the way. For the first time since getting hitched to my little IV wagon at 7, I was able to do what they'd been telling us to do: relax and be comfortable (never mind the beeping, constant blood pressure checks, people in and out, ...). Forget that I was shaking like a leaf from the effects of the epidural, I wasn't feeling like the pain was going to kill me anymore! Hooray! Finally, things started to change--when they checked where I was after I stopped shaking, we had a head locked in place, 90% effacement, and 6cm of room to work with.

Not even an hour later, at about 3:45, I asked the nurse to have the midwife come back and check me at 4AM because I was feeling something that wasn't pain but that was absolutely a pressure. She came in, told me we were ready to go and to give her a couple trial pushes to see what I could do. The results: I'm apparently good at pushing, so Ajay was made to get out of bed... where he'd just gotten comfortable after my little ordeal. We, and by that I mean "I", started pushing with the next contraction at 4:00, and 6 contractions later we had a baby at 4:07. If Pitocin is evil, the epidural is God's gift to a laboring Britta. Seriously, with a first baby, who has 7 minutes of pushing? It's unheard of for a reason.

Maybe it wasn't crossing the backbone of the Andes on foot, or taking a mule train with food into a jungle camp after the roads flood and the supplies have run out. It's not solving the mystery of why a kid can't read or how to finally make something make sense when it never has before. It's not the kind of physical or mental adventure I've had before, but it was by far the biggest. No mountains, or floods, or mysteries compare to this. And, that's how two became three with a little help from a lot of people and, in the end, with a little modern medicine applied to something as old as time itself. Pretty amazing stuff.