Monthly Archives: January 2005

Interview with a Vampire

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More pictures online! And guess who’s cord fell off today? That’s right, Smellbottom’s. He has a real live bellybutton now. Obviously, it’s adorable.

More about Owen, aged two weeks and two days:
LIKES
- Lying supine on Daddy’s chest.
- Favorite song[s]: Sung by Mommy: “Rock-a-bye Owen.” Sung by Daddy: “True Blue” by Bright Eyes.
- Favorite phrase: “Men be all actin’ like zombies at the mall” [an obscure Stewie quote from Family Guy].
- Being patted on the bottom while Mommers walks around the house, swinging him in her arms.
- Sleeping in his car seat, even when it’s not in the car. But especially when it is in the car.

DISLIKES
- Sleeping at night
- Waiting to be fed
- Sitting in a smelly diaper. This used to be in the ‘Likes’ category, but I guess he matured.
- Having his diaper changed. Will someone tell this boy he can’t have it both ways?

That’s pretty much it so far. More updates on his personality as it develops.

Saith the doctor: So I totally made it out of the house twice yesterday with baby in tow. I’m pretty proud of that. At about 9:30 we trekked to CVS for mother-hygiene supplies, and his doctor’s appointment was at 1 p.m.

The appointment went very well. He’s gained 11 ounces in the last week, compared to two ounces the week I tried to breastfeed him. He’s a solid nine pounds now, right where he should be on all the growth-curve chart-y things they have. Also, the doctor said he has a perfectly shaped head, that his head was so perfectly shaped he could be an Anne Geddes baby. Damn straight. He’s not going to be an Anne Geddes baby because he’s totally not going to sell out, but it’s nice to know he could if he wanted to.

The only thing that sucked was that they had to give him another heel stick, for his second PKU test. Nothing prepared me for the horrible feeling of trying to comfort my baby for minutes on end as another person hurt him with a sharp object and then smeared his blood on a lab paper. I’ve never heard him cry like that before, and we were both in tears by the time the med tech was done. Lord help me, toddlerhood is going to be impossible, to say nothing of the teenage years.

Body obsession: Dang. My life is entirely reduced to monitoring the input and output of two bodies — Owen’s and mine. [I figure Iain can handle his by himself.] Who’s pooped? What did it look like? Is that normal? How about food? Is it time to eat yet? How about now? How’s the skin? How’s the nose? How’s the mouth? Is it time to change the diaper/go to the bathroom? How’s the bottom region? And on and on.

Also, I have not been this obsessed with my breasts since high school. I weaned him to the bottle two days ago, and my poor bosoms are paying the price. They’re perfectly hemispherical and rock-hard, kind of like Pamela Anderson’s first boob job. Also, they’re causing me so much pain I can’t sleep at night without several doses of ibuprofen. Combination of stretched skin, a bruised-feeling and a sharp tingle of pain that comes and goes, on top of the slowly healing nipple situation.

[Say, aren’t you glad you stopped by the site today? Got enough visuals yet?]

Just call me Bessie

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  • Definitely feel like a milk cow. Boobs are leaking all over the place, and I have to pump them every couple hours or so to fill a bottle for the baby so he has something to eat until I go to the pediatrician and get Doctorly Sanction to give him formula. Nipples are still protesting mightily, but boy do I have a firm, luscious bustline. Maybe a little too firm. I could poke your eye out with these things.
  • It’s bath day again for Baby Owen [a.k.a. OJ, a.k.a. Killer]. His breath smells like my boobs. Before he was born, that would mean a fragrant scent reminiscent of some mid-priced body lotion. Now it means sour breastmilk. Go figure.
  • Iain is drilling holes in the laundry room wall for a peg board for his tools, and I’m typing this with a baby in my arms. A sleeping baby, no less. But it’s working. I may not have had a shower yet today, but damn if I’m not updating my blog. Owen is grunting but generally looking peaceful.
  • More plans being made for visitors. Iain’s folks were here just this past weekend to see the baby. The weekend before, my family made the trip from Ohio. My brother and his girlfriend even drove 15 hours up from Florida to see him for one day which I think is really awesome and yet crazy. Mom stayed with us for a week, from Tuesday the 4th when I went into labor to the 11th, when we actually thought we could handle this li’l guy on our own. [What was I thinking? It was great having mom around to hold Baby as I took my sitz bath or waddled to the kitchen or slept. Naps! It was great!] Now I’m planning with Mandy to have her come for about a week to help when Iain’s paternity leave runs out. I was a little nervous about doing this mommy thing unaided, so it’s going to be a relief to have the Manders there for assistance. And Cousin Meg is going to come and baby-sit when I go back to work, which is coming up way too soon.
  • Perhaps I should tell Iain that a power drill is not exactly a soothing lullaby for a baby.
  • Just peeked at Owen’s little toes which have poked out of his sleeper. Realizing over these last few days that I have definitely crossed some line, passed through some Motherhood Portal. All sorts of things which mattered Before Baby are suddenly immaterial — blow-drying my hair, getting skinny again, baking from scratch, not watching television [helllllloooooo, Oprah], getting 8 hours of sleep, vacuuming the floor … the list goes on. AND also realizing that I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into. I had no clue it would be so difficult. I thought, “sleep deprivation? Sure, I can do that. After all, I used to pull all-nighters in college.” And I thought, “Feeding the baby? Sure, I can do that. All you do is stick a nipple in his mouth and he’ll suck.” And I thought, “Naptime? Babies sleep like, all the time. I hope I don’t get bored during maternity leave.”

    Ha. Ha. Ha. Little did I know, right? But Owen has been teaching me. This is 24/7, hands-down the hardest thing ever, exhausting and scary [is he breathing now? How about now?] and did I say exhausting? But come over here and look at these toes and watch his little rosebud mouth move in his sleep and repeat with me: I have the best baby ever.

Who needs sleep?

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  • Little Owen [or Baby, as we call him] has been out in the world for eleven whole days, and of those eleven whole days I can only remember about four of them. One was the day he was born, one was the day we came home from the hospital, one was the day I couldn’t stop crying, not even long enough to pee or call my mother, and one was the day the Steelers won. I think that was yesterday.
  • All my fun parts are still in pain, but feeling much better day by day, and today I can sit down on an actual chair without using any padding. That’s pretty cool. And the whole ‘labor amnesia’ thing is already kicking in, and I can contemplate making a brother or sister for Owen without shrieking.
  • Breastfeeding, it turns out, is a horrible horrible joke babies play on mommies. It’s also the reason I can remember the Day of Crying so clearly. I wanted desperately to feed my baby, who was hungry and dependent on me for food, but my poor abused nipples were chapped, bleeding, blistered, and painful to the touch. Each time he wanted to eat, I had to bite my lip and sob through the pain, which didn’t seem like the warm cuddly atmosphere La Leche League nazis like to promote. But we’ve got a temporary solution, which is for me to pump every two hours, and have Iain feed him with a bottle. Mommy gets to heal, baby gets to eat, Daddy gets to feed baby AND watch playoff football at the same time: Everybody wins.
  • Lucky for us the camera has a one-gig memory card, because the only other thing we do besides eat, sleep and feed is take pictures. Owen has been smiling in his sleep for about a week now, maybe more, and if you stare real hard you’ll catch him smiling when he’s awake, too. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world, a big gummy gaping smile. It makes all the pain and fatigue and frustration and peed-upon bedding disappear.
  • Speaking of peed-upon bedding: This little guy is a regular fountain. Just wait til he’s old enough to stand; he’ll be writing entire speeches in the snow without using his hands.
  • Just now realized that motherhood means you can find pride in ANYTHING your child does.
  • Just now realized that I’m a mother. Whole thing still kind of sinking in … half-expecting his parents to come home, give me a twenty and thank me for babysitting.

Still. No. Baby.

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Q: When is a contraction not a contraction?
A: When you forget the apostrophe! Ha ha ha.

Things seem to be progressing today. Me and Beanster, we’ve been talking, and I think he’s coming around to my point of view. Contractions seem to have gotten more organized and closer together, so this could be the early phase of first-stage labor. Crossing my fingers. I’ve been timing them, and they’ve gone from 15-20 minutes apart yesterday afternoon [making my trip to Mars a grumpy experience] to 5-7 minutes apart right now.

There goes another one.

Mom is on her way, driving out from Ohio to see her first grandbaby born, and Iain’s been calling from school all morning. We already had an appointment with the Doc for this afternoon, so we’ll go and get checked out and see if this is the real deal or not.

I hope it is. I want to hold my baby with my arms, you know? Not my abdominal wall. With arms is much more fun.

Anyway, that’s the update. Hmm. Do you think they have internet access at the hospital?

Spleen #6!!

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So apparently there’s this special spot on your ankle, right? Japanese shiatsu massage people call it Spleen #6 — well, they probably have a different word for it, but that’s what the books call it — and if you press it it should induce contractions.

Guess who’s been diving for my ankle all day long?

Mmm, basil: I love food. Do you know that? Food food food. Cinnamon and nutmeg pancakes, baked ziti, steak and potatoes, blueberry pie, handmade pizza with stinky ass Asiago [Ass-iago?] cheese. Oh, and hand-squeezed orange juice — finally found a good use for those 17 pounds of half-ripe oranges. Go me. We’ve been cooking and eating, cooking and eating, and I think I figured out why I gained three pounds in the last week.

That, and the fudge.

P.S. Still no baby, if you didn’t figure that out.