Month: September 2014

I’ve been trying to write this for a few days, but Tyler prefers that I attend to him.  He’s been a bit fussy this morning, so I decided, hey if you’re going to cry anyway, I’m going to vacuum.  He fell asleep in his bouncy seat watching me.  Sigh.

The hospital told us not to worry about bathing Tyler too often in the early days.  There was his umbilical stump to contend with, not to mention the circumcision.  We did the sponge bath thing occasionally, as well as baby wipe baths.  Then he got older, his stump fell off, and he was perfectly able to take a bath in his pink bath tub.  Except we were kind of lazy about it.  We’d get home later than we thought, or he’d fall asleep unexpectedly in the evening.  So, he didn’t get a real bath for awhile.  This pattern continued for weeks. Continues, I should say.  How dirty can he really get when he’s always being held, in his car seat, or on the playmat?

Disgusting, is the answer.  Plenty of friends warned us about neck cheese, that nasty buildup that occurs in baby neck folds from dripped milk and errant spit up.  Eric (the bathmaster) scrubs his neck and behind his ears very well.  So it was a mystery when I dried Tyler with his adorable duck towel and rooted around for pajamas that he kind of stunk.  Reeked, actually.  I sniffed his teeny body up and down and finally discovered something so putrid I can hardly admit it.  The folds at the top of his thighs were dirty. Repulsive.  Filled with a whitish goo that was probably days weeks worth of pee, sweat, spit up, and diaper fuzz.  It was nasty.  I felt so bad for the poor kid and we swore not to let it happen again.  Fail #1.

Fail #2 has occurred, horrifically, on three occasions:  We drove around without buckling Tyler’s seatbelt.  Shamefully easy to do.  We’re walking him in the stroller, he’s asleep with a blanket over the car seat, we un-click from the stroller and re-click him into the car seat base…and drive off.  We get to our destination, go to get him out of the car, and our hearts sink.  How could we do that?!  Unlike upper leg cheese, this is actually illegal and we swore not to let it happen again, for reals.

Fail #3 belongs to me alone.  Tyler isn’t in any danger, but it’s an emotional fail that upsets me.  Like many moms, I combat the boredom (admit it, it is after awhile!) of nursing by playing on my phone.  I’m not sure there’s any articles on Huffpost that I haven’t read.  And of course Facebook.  And recently, I’ve looked away from the screen to glance at Tyler…and he’s watching me.  He’s watching me NOT watch him.  It’s heartbreaking, those tiny eyes looking at me while mine are “liking” somebody else’s baby photos.  I know he doesn’t know what I’m up to, but he does know that I’m not paying attention to him.  And that can’t happen again.  I’m sorry, Mr. T!

On a lighter note, here’s Fail #4.

We were enjoying an afternoon in the backyard, and I was brushing Lilly.  There was hardly any breeze, but when I looked over at Tyler, who was happily lounging on his playmat, a clump of Lilly’s fur was stuck to his mouth.  Oops!

 

Nope, not this one.  You’ll have to keep reading.  But these are cute, too.

Tyler’s first month went by, as all new parents say, SO QUICKLY!  Every day he wakes up and we’re like, whose baby is this?  He changes overnight!  He’s just over 10 lbs and has just about grown out of newborn-sized clothes.  I’d like to brag about all of his accomplishments, but so far am limited to 1. the boy can EAT and 2. he sleeps a 4 hour stretch and a 3 hour stretch at night, in his crib.  His eyes are still blue and most people say he looks like his daddy.  He takes a bottle occasionally and has apparently inherited his chugging skills from Eric.  All that eating at an alarming rate has one consequence: spitting up.  All.The.Time.  A dribble here, 2 ounces there; on my shirt, the couch, the floor, the car seat.  See below.

If you’re not laughing, maybe you can’t see the stalactite of regurgitated milk.  Eric managed to catch this during the one-month photo shoot in our living room.  Spit up.

All.The.Time.

 

…I mean, that really got out of hand fast! –Ron Burgundy

So goes Tyler’s birth story.  I promise to be detailed without being graphic.  (Mostly.)

Our unknown-gender-yet-to-be-named baby was due Monday, August 4th.  No baby came on this day.  We visited the doctor, who informed us we could schedule an induction later that week if we wished.  I didn’t wish, but Eric was curious.  We waited.

The next day, Tuesday, was the day teachers reported back to school.  So, I went.  And the next day!  Wednesday I was feeling many things.  Tired, not hungry, a little out of it, and trepidation regarding the now-scheduled induction for 5am on Thursday.  I called the doctor to see if I could come in for a progress check and avoid the induction.  We went in, and I was 4 cm.  So, like any parents-to-be, we took that knowledge and went to happy hour.  When we got home around 7:30, I was still feeling tired, not hungry, and a little out of it.  With a stomach ache.  We walked around the block.  Eric made me ramen noodles (don’t judge him, it was my request).  I watched Friends reruns.

At 9:30, convinced my issues were stemming from fear of the unwanted induction, Eric called the hospital to cancel.  I kid you not, 5 minutes later, I had what I was certain was a contraction.  Finally, my first one.  Yeah!  A few minutes later, another.  Then a few more. At 10:30 they started to hurt.  But the doctor is very clear that we shouldn’t call until the contractions are 1 minute long and 5 minutes apart, so being the rule-followers we are, we didn’t call.  But Eric knew better, and he’s packing the car.

10:32.  10:38.  Holy cow, we better call.  11:08, 11:13.  We call, they say come in.  11:19, 11:24, 11:26.  By now I’m on the floor, moaning/yelling/crying.  This hurts WAY more than I anticipated.  Eric is helping me with all the tricks we learned in birthing class.  We make sure we have everything, say bye to Lilly, and get in the car.

The hospital is only 10 minutes away, but we managed to get pulled over going 60 in a 35. As the cop approaches the car, I give a good, loud moan (good timing).  He immediately realizes I’m in labor and lets us go.  We pull up to the emergency entrance, I collapse into a wheelchair, and off we go to the Center for Childbirth at Good Samaritan.

We are shown to our L&D room at 11:45 and meet our nurse, David.  David, the 50-something male nurse, will be my most intimate healthcare provider on this momentous night.  He checks me right away.  Seven cm.  I have another contraction and throw up from the pain. I ask for an epidural.  Eric double checks with me because we were going to try to go without…nope, not going to happen.  The anesthesiologist arrives two minutes later.  It works right away, I don’t even feel the very next contraction.  I have zero energy and I ask to go to sleep.

At 4:00am David checks on me.  I’m 10 cm.  But my water hasn’t broken.  I ask to go back to sleep.  David laughs and says he’ll come back soon.  A little after 5:00am, David checks again.  My water broke and I didn’t even know.  It’s go time.

David coaches Eric and I on pushing.  We practice and after only 4 practice pushes, David calls the doctor.  Apparently I’m a very efficient pusher, and that epidural is amazing because I feel nothing except exhilaration.  Dr. Burgess arrives, and I push 12 or so more times.  I get an episiotomy (“sounds like raw chicken being cut with scissors,” says Eric) and one more push.  IT’S A BOY we said, together.  8 lbs, 5.5 oz.  20 3/4″ long.  5:53am on 8/7/14.

Unbelievably amazing.  Whoa.  Wow.  We have a SON!  Eric cut the cord, and we both cried a lot.  We didn’t name him right away.  There was some negotiation for a couple of hours. Tyler Matthew Holle.  It suits him.

I was in labor for less than 9 hours and pushed for about 15 minutes.  It was awesome. Really, it escalated quickly!  We stayed in the hospital overnight and went home Friday afternoon when Tyler was 32 hours old.  We love him.