Hey, This Isn’t Food!

9/19/2004

Well, it’s been a thrilling weekend. Friday night was all about going to the grocery store. Whoo-hoo! After the Spud went to bed. (About the only definitive thing the pediatrician has told us about raising babies is that watching TV is bad for their brain. Suck it, Baby Einstein!)

Saturday was all about the Baby. Well, even more so. We had an appointment at the Sears Photo Studio to get some 1 year photos. (FYI: Wendi does NOT need anyone to point out that the child is well over 13 months old.) We spent the morning trying him in various outfits, getting him cleaned up and trying like hell to keep him from bonking his head on anything. (Last week’s bruise was just faded away enough to be covered by make-up.)

Yesterday was also his first day of life without any breast milk. Xander is officially weaned (weened?). It’s kind of sad, seeing the boppy pillows put away for good but Wendi didn’t want to dwell on it so I’d better not. And that first glass of Dt. Dr. Pepper in over two years tasted mighty good!

The photo went pretty well though as you all know, in times of stress, Alexander will comfort himself by sucking on two fingers. SOMEBODY decided that that’s not a professional pose and so a lot of time went into persuading the star to remove his figures. Of course, having a bunch of grown-ups acting goofy would cause just about anyone to feel a bit uncomfortable. But we got a few decent shots. Those of you we really like (and you know who you are) will be getting a picture sometime this fall.

Afterwards, Wendi wanted to show me some furniture at JC Pennies so off we went.  While traveling there across the Mall, I learned that my brave young lion Hardy is terrified of elevators. (Wendi recently went on a mall walking power-stroll with another new mother and so was aware of this.) Despite using my best repertoire of head shaking (mine, not his) and tickling his chin, Xander spent most of the 8 second ride up to housewares crying.

We got back in time for X’s next meal and nap. He was pretty tired out and so fell asleep pretty quickly; He hardly bothered to fling any food about the room.

For those new parents in need of a good scare, I decided I didn’t much care for the glass door on the entertainment center and decided to remove it. On his very supervised trips about the Family Room/Kitchen, Xander really likes pounding on things and this piece of glass seemed more trouble than it was worth.  It could probably stand a neo-toddler’s pounding but…. I unscrewed it and carefully took it into the garage. As I gently set it down next to the freezer, it burst into hundreds of pieces. Shocked the hell out of me. That 2x3 foot piece of glass could stand a toddler pounding his little fat fist on it but not being gently set down on the floor. I tried to spin it as a good thing but Wendi remains convinced that something is somehow my fault.

Xander had about a 30 minute tour of the kitchen/family room before all this happened. He didn’t care much for the linoleum floor till I took his socks off. He seemed very impressed with the rabbit cage (most people are) but repeatedly tried to stick his fingers in there. I gave him a few serious “Xander, no!” but it will probably take no more than one bite from Lily the Demon Rabbit for him to learn this lesson.

He also was very good at finding the rabbit pellets that managed to elude my TWO vacuumings from the day before. At least, I hope he only found two; that’s how many I confiscated from him.

That’s about it for now. Tina and Aunt Ginny should be stopping by this week. There’re tons of movies on the iMac of Xander sort of walking which need to be put onto DVD but the computer’s been acting all hinky lately. I’m saving up for a new operating system in the hopes that that’ll straighten everything out and I can continue making fine DVD projects to love for years to come. (Note to the hint-challenged-that’s OS 10.3.)

It’s about time for the afternoon nap. Heck, I might take one too. Keep in touch and we will do the same.

Yours,

B/W/X

First Birthday Party

8/1/2004

(Author’s Note: As stress-related illnesses are a national problem, let me just say right off that Xander never stopped breathing and was in no real danger.)

So, Alexander Eric has just celebrated his first birthday yesterday. (Though, his birthday was actually last week. Our big event that day was going to Lowe’s to buy a freezer.) For reasons explained below, he didn’t open up presents until today after his mid-morning nap. Right now, he’s taking his late afternoon nap though from the sounds of it, he’s really just hootin’ and hollerin’. No doubt, he’ll eventually collapse; probably just in time for his 5:30 wake up call.

It’s been really hot over here lately. Mid-90s every day. The mornings are nice and cool (well, before 10:00, it’s under 80 degrees.) and we seal up all the doors and windows by 11:00 and the Ranch House stays a good 15 degrees cooler than outside. It’s not much but we’ll take it.

Yesterday, we celebrated two birthdays. In addition to Xander turning 1, nephew Hunter turned 5 so we had much to celebrate. Grandmother Tina (AKA: Tutu) naturally went overboard on everything. The boys probably didn’t each need their own cakes but, well, grandparents are like that.

Gregg showed up a bit early to help with decorations¸ such as they were. Wendi and he put up a few streamers while I recorded all the exciting events with the camera. Trust me, this’ll all make for some mighty compelling drama.

By 6:30, Jeff and Maria, Steve, Ursula and Lia and Gregg were here along with Holly’s family, Harold, Tina and Konnosan. The salmon was roasting on the barbeque. I was my usual obnoxious self, walking about with my video camera and Wendi was trying to corral the Brothers Hardy into a photo shoot. Hopefully, at least one of the 20 different shots Wendi took of us will turn out alright. There is only so much you can do with Photoshop…

We sat down to eat about 7:00 and there was a lot of food. Like I said, Tutu really went overboard. X-man sat between us and sloooooowly chewed on Cheerios and the occasional microscopic bit of grown-up food we slipped him. Yesterday was his first pasta, cantaloupe and, of course, cake. Soon after the food was finished and we staggered away from the table, the cakes were brought out. Hunter’s had aliens and explosions on it. Xander’s had Winnie the Pooh. (I kinda liked Hunter’s, myself.) With one video camera, two digital and two film cameras going, we presented the cakes to the boys. Hunter blew out his candles while Xander just looked in awe at his cake, which was about as big as his torso. As happens in EVERY first birthday cake situation (by law, I think), the Guest of Honor, slowly started reaching towards the cake. The photographers, already in a fever pitch, eagerly awaited “THE SHOT: the photo in every single baby book of the little one with a handful of cake and/or a nice facial mask of frosting.

Xander, being terribly well-mannered, much like his father, didn’t go overboard here but rather just kept patting Winnie’s legs. (Click, click, click) Finally, when he decided he might want to stick his feet into the cake, the adults decided to move him back and start handing out slices.

(For some reason, Hunter’s cake got a lot more customers. Guess aliens are more popular than bears.)

The Boy got his little slice and started eating handfuls of it. He also managed to wipe a large swath of bright blue frosting onto Uncle Jeff’s shirt, which most of us found terribly amusing. (Click, click, click) After 10 minutes or so of this, face and hands covered in cake entails, he started chewing on the plate, which again was quite a bit of fun. (Click, click, click)

Wendi doesn’t normally go for this sort of thing but was making an effort to lighten up and relax and so continued to let him have fun.  However, all things must end and Wendi started cleaning him up using several towels. This was not working to mommy’s complete satisfaction. We decided to move the kid into the bathroom. This took on a bit of urgency when we realized he had wiped his eye with his blue frosting-dyed hand. It was starting to swell. The upstairs bathroom just wasn’t cutting it; we zipped downstairs to the bathtub. By this time, his left eye was completely shut so Wendi disrobed and got into the tub with him and we started trying to flush his eye.

In the back of our minds was that he ate something he was allergic to and this was an allergic reaction.

We flushed him as well as we could though got a lot of water up his nose; our infant not being big on holding his breath. While drying him, he seemed to be gasping for breath. Said Wendi, “That does it! I’m calling 9-1-1” off my wet, nude wife went running in search of a phone.

(Author’s note: Once again, relax. Everything was cool.)

While it was just the two of us, I continued to dry him and listened to his breathing. He was certainly cloggy and breathing heavily but in retrospect, this was probably the result of a lot of crying on his part, coupled with a very stuffy nose and inhaling too much water as we tried to flush his eye out.  The cure was worse than the symptoms. Well, hindsight and all.

Eventually, the paramedics showed up. Once again, my high school science teacher, Mr. R, was there. The last time he entered our lives was to take Mom’s body away to the…well, I don’t actually know. (We gotta stop having that guy over to family gatherings.)

Anyway, the EMTs listened to his breathing, checked his heart rate and flushed his eye out a little more. There really wasn’t a whole lot they could do at this point except say, “Boy, that’s one swollen eye!” Xander had simmered down though this was probably exhaustion more than anything else. Naturally, he slept poorly that night but that may have been the heat as well as his eye. My poking him every 30 minutes or so to see that he was still breathing probably didn’t help either.

And Wendi naturally castigated herself as the Worst Mother in the World for taking photos while her Pride and Joy was endangering his life and limb with a perilous pastry. Wendi also sort of implied that I might want to feel a bit worse about it, too.

However, we all survived. Alexander’s eye is still just a bit swollen but you wouldn’t notice it unless you were paranoid parent. The Evil Cake remains only half eaten (no takers amongst the EMTs) and will probably remain so. Tomorrow, we return to Silverdale where we can work to minimize any/all sources of danger to our little one as well as start evangelizing to our friends who are soon-to-be-parents about the dangers of cake.

Oh yeah. We’ll be a big hit at parties.

Anyway, that’s the big story of our first birthday party. Thanks to all for the gifts you sent or are sending. (Or maybe just thinking about sending.) Stop by and see us sometime.

Take care and watch out for that wicked blue frosting.

B/W/X

What I have Learned

8/2003

A) Babies Crap a lot.

Okay this wasn’t a complete shock but to paraphrase from the movie Roxanne, I knew they pooped a lot but I didn’t think it was….A LOT, if you get my meaning.

B) Babies make an amazing variety of sounds.

Naturally, the farting sounds are terribly amusing; no need for explanation there. His burps are also good fun though he’s not much of an enthusiastic burper. (The books all say this is standard with breast fed ones.) However, where the little one really shines is in the area of vocalization. He can go from a Grandma Jeanne pseudo laughing bark (“pseudo” because he’s not really laughing at this point, just testing out a new set of lungs) to an enraged dolphin wail. (Nothing pseudo about this-he’s just pissed.) Still no sign of a coo. Will keep you posted.

C) A newborn’s smile, while rare and probably in no way related to his emotional state, is something of great wonder and amusement.

D) To those who are in the “going to have a baby someday” category, you will spend A LOT of money at Target (and/or Babies R Us and/Sears and/or yadda, yadda, yadda….)

We have just completed what we think will be our last “newborn” purchase of a stroller. Granted, the Wife and I will never feel brave enough to actually take the boy outside but we felt it was important for appearance’s sake. What makes this all a Greek Tragedy is that in 6 to 8 months, we will need to upgrade everything from newborn to just regular old infant. And after that, it’ll be a shift from infant to toddler.

On the bright side, anyone with enough foresight to have a baby in, say 8 to 12 months will have loads of really cool* stuff given to you. What you save might be enough to start a college fund for the Pride and Joy.

*BTW: The definition of “really cool stuff” changes quite drastically. Old RCS? A DVD burner or chain saw. New RCS? Diaper rash cream which really works or one piece baby outfits which are easy to put on and take off. Fun stuff.

E) There are few things as disturbing as the sound of a slowly awakening baby coming over the baby monitor. You’ve never seen two adults stare so intently at something with “Fisher Price” written on it, as if by Shear Willpower Alone could enable that monitor to keep that baby asleep.

F) A mother’s voice or father’s arms got NOTHING on the dulcet tones of a Sears 2.2 HP Wet/Dry Vac for getting a little one to drop off to sleep. We have a 60 minute cassette at the ready both upstairs and down.

H) Being able to “baby talk” is not an instinctive talent. It’s possible that it may take until I’m a grandparent myself before my adult-newborn conversation is anymore scintillating than, “So…boy…I am changing your diaper now….Uh…How about that?”

G) Also working well is being rocked in the car seat after which we’ll just leave him in the seat. He spends a lot of his sleeping time looking all ready to go on a trip.

I) It’s really hard to throw away a broken TV.

Not really keeping with the theme but something I learned nevertheless.

J) Speaking of throwing things away, garbage bills jump dramatically when a newborn comes along.

Before Baby, we got along with one 32 gallon can (often put out half-full on Sunday) and half-hearted recycling effort. After Baby, you won’t be able to keep up with a 52-gallon can and recycling like hell. At least once a month, dragging out two cans will be required.

K) Whatever it is, it’s the father’s fault.

Your life will be much simpler if you just accept that now.

L) Because Mother Nature did a better job at equipping some of us in the Seeing to The Baby’s Needs Department, it is easy for the non-lactating among us to overcompensate by a constant hovering about asking, “Do you need anything?” This hovering can get might annoying at times.

M) The only thing more aggravating, more dangerous than Item L is NOT being available and at hand when the need arises.

N) Breast milk is an amazing substance.

Not only is it great food, but it also has been recommended for other purposes as well. One possible use, one I’d be willing to try though Wendi is not, is to clear up Xander’s newborn acne. Another use, one I am not willing to try, is as a contact lens cleaning solution.

O) Closed captioning is a must.

In either a “high decibel environment” or one where you’re trying to be as quiet as possible, the ability to follow the movie or TV show is a real bonus.

P) Back to the poop again. Not only is there a lot of it (See Part A) but it takes bizarre forms as well.

I have seen it bubbling out like some sort of carbonated crap; poop pop if you will. One of my co-workers confirmed this is a normal occurrence so, while this is disturbing in a “that just ain’t right” sort of way, it’s not actually cause for concern in terms of his health.

Also, that stuff can really shoot out of him. On a couple of occasions, Wendi has watched in horror as he’s “jumped” the end of the changing pad, making it to the carpet below.

Q) People like giving us Winnie-the-Pooh albums. I mean they really like giving us Winnie-the-Pooh albums. We loved every one of them. J (As did Target love exchanging them.)

R) Wills are a pain.

Correction. Wills can be a pain if you’re trying to use the family lawyer 200 miles away and thus, have to rely on phone conversations and e-mail. Also, as mouth pieces charge by the hour, the more taciturn spouse should be the one to handle all communication. Shoot the breeze with your barber, your dry cleaner or your neighbor. Don’t shoot the breeze with your lawyer.  The only phone conversation that will cost you more is a “976” phone number with some girl named Bambi on the other end.

BTW: Just so you know, Brother Jeff gets the kid if we croak. (The Ws will look after him till Jeff arrives.) Tina will look after the college trust fund. If the same meteor wipes out the entire family, what clams we’ve squirreled away will go to the college funds for the younger relatives with a chunk going to the House Rabbit Society.

No doubt we’ll be changing the above stipulations when the will gets done several years’ hence. Situations change and it would be foolish to think that what holds true in ’03 will be true in ’10.

Thinking about it all; the future and what kind of person we want Alexander to be; I’m comforted by how many resources he will have at his disposal. Not really financial resources (though there is some of that) but in terms of learning opportunities. He’ll have both the “Do a bit of everything” gusto from the Hardy/Berrys as well as the “be a mover and a shaker” of the Heaths.

Stuart, you teach him about the law and how to make it work for you. Sister Holly, teach him to be a lethal weapon in the corporate world. Harold, teach him about persistence and learning from one’s mistakes. Dad, you teach him to be handy about the house and how to build everything. Jeff, he can learn about entrepreneurship from you. Steve, while cyborg status isn’t a goal, if he could pick up a bit of your computer smarts, that would be good. And Auntie B., you teach him tradition and family history.

What else? Music? Who has got music? (Actually, who doesn’t have music in this brood?) Oh yeah, kindness and trustworthiness? I guess those are good too. Somebody better take those.  How about financial smarts? Don’t leave it to me! And how about dealing with the opposite sex? That would be good to know. (Or so I am told.) Anybody know about cars?....

S) The final thing I’ve learned is that a reasonably fast typist can put down quite a few words (1,389 so far) while watching, rocking, attempting to comfort a fussy baby and giving the mother a chance to catch up on all the sleep she missed the night before.

And that may be the greatest lesson of all….

Time to at least start getting ready for work. School starts in two days. Eeeeek! Then again, it’s so quiet and peaceful at work.

B.

Well, They Warned Us

8/3/2003

From about 10:00 this morning till about 4:30 the afternoon, Xander has been fussy. We tried everything: rocking, walking, bouncing, a trip to the Library (the room next to his seems to usually calm him). EVEN Wendi’s “Songs for Sleepy Time” record. (Yes, an actual record.) Nothing worked.

It took a 20 minute drive down the road to get him to drop off. We left him in the car seat though we brought him up to his room. About an hour later, he woke up, discovered he was in a car seat and started crying. However, this time, Xander took to break with very little fuss and ate well. After that, it was a very hurried swaddle (silly hat be damned!) and put back to sleep. It was about 5:30. Tina took pity on us and offered to delay her departure until we awoke. (She returns Tuesday.) Naturally, he was a perfect angel. Wendi thought he might do well with an extra 45 minutes sleep so he’s got another 10 to go. Then we’ll see if he’s over whatever was pissing him off.

On my to-do list, which the two of us write every night, only “exercise” was completed. Fix the toilet and hang the curtains will still be on the list tomorrow. Part of the biggest change is that we now have to think “window of opportunity” in a big way. The baby’s asleep? What can we get done in 20 minutes?!? Go! Go! Go!

If Tina had her way, we use at least half of that time to eat the scrumptious meals she prepares. My M-I-L doesn’t really get the idea of a “quick” bite to eat.

(Later)

Well, the Little Dude was simply too tired to do much eating tonight: only 18 minutes for the first course and nothing in the second. We’d be more concerned if he hadn’t spent most of the day not sleeping. No doubt, he’ll perk up for the 10:00 feeding. (Or failing that, there’s the 12:30 one. Or the 5:00 one. And so on…) His eyes looked all gunky today so we’ve been cleaning them with damp cotton balls. Thank God our first pediatrician’s visit is tomorrow. He can tell us Alexander’s not suffering too much from our incompetence. It’ll also be good to see what he weighs. (Xander, not the doctor.)

Well, time to eat for big people. I’ll keep you informed of all the exciting events.

(Tired) Brian

The Arrival

7/30/2003

Auntie,

Below is a (none too) brief recount of our last week’s adventure. I know many of you worry about being a bother during this rather busy time and so have been hesitant about stopping by or calling. (This must have been my slacker brothers’ excuses anyway.) Therefore, here are some ramblings by a somewhat sleep-deprived new dad who’s still having trouble “getting a grip on it all”.

Or too busy for editing

Important side note here. My readers are made of two types. The first are those who have experienced the Miracle of Birth. These people consider me a wimp and would love to tell me about their 46 hours in labor and how “back in the day” nurses used to offer smokes to expectant mothers in the waiting room. The other type of reader are those who have not experienced this Miracle. They just think me just weird for describing such a bizarre occurrence and expecting anyone to believe it. Just wanted to let you all know I’m on to you.

It’s about 7:12 pm and I’m in the baby room awaiting his return from the Land of Nod. He has been quite the sleeper today. My fear is that this bodes ill for this evening’s sleep prospects. Must be the heat. Whenever you just start to sweat from sitting on the couch, it’s too hot.

The New One actually seems to be tolerating it much better than we, despite all the swaddling. Because we’re such worrywarts, he got his temperature taken about 5 times today. It’s under the armpits nowadays but he still doesn’t like it.

Xander’s been home for a little over two days and things are going reasonably well. Wendi’s in charge of feeding him and recovering from her C-section. (She’s still sore about the mid-section but gets around pretty well.) And anything else that strikes her fancy. Today it was adding a bit more organization of X-man’s room. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly and Wendi’s gotta push back the Forces of Chaos and Disorder.

Me? I’m in charge of assisting Wendi and the feeding. (It’s a one and a half person job. Only ask if you really want to know.) My other duties include staying in somewhat regular contact with friends and family, taking Xander Watch if other’s are busy and generally catering to Wendi’s every need. Since she’s recovering from surgery, she doesn’t do bending or lifting terribly well so there is a lot of diaper changing (which we do on a pad on the floor) in my life now. I’m also “Mr. Burp” to the newborn set.

Tina’s job is to make sure WE don’t cease functioning. She does the food prep, takes care of the rabbits, most of the shopping. Grandmother will also take a Xander Watch if we’re too tired to do anything. The word is “Godsend”, folks.

Though we’re certainly busier than we were, say a week ago, we’ll not throw up our hands and cry in the shower type tired or frustrated. This is party our well behaved, champion sleeper son’s doing and partly my mother-in-law’s doing. Things will be much more difficult when she’s decided she’s had enough of coddling us. Hopefully, by the that time, we’ll have figure out what we’re doing.

But how did we get to this point in our lives? I could go WAY back in my explanation but for decency’s sake, how about we just go back to last Thursday morning? The time of our weekly visit to Dr. McMillan, Wendi’s OB/GYN. (Speaking Politically Correctly, Dr. McMillan would be “our” baby doctor but let’s face it, there is NO part of me she wanted to poke or prod. I was just there to open doors and carry bags.)

The 8:00 appointment went well. Wendi’s blood pressure had come down to acceptable levels and the baby’s heart rate sounded good. Just to be on the safe side, Dr. McMillan was going to induce early and she thought Sunday night sounded about right. This sounded okay to us as well. We’d have four days to work on the baby room, go to Red Robin, talk to relatives and stuff.

Immediately after this regular appointment was the non-stress test where the baby’s heart rate is measured over a longer period of time while the mother notes when the baby kicks. This went slightly less well as Person-to-Be’s hearts rate was just under comfort range. Time for another test. This time it was a sonogram (AKA ultrasound) This also went less well as it showed the baby not having enough amniotic fluid. The baby seemed “under stress”. Plans changed. Sunday evening became Thursday morning. Yikes.

Fortunately, Wendi is a smart person and insisted we pack bags on the off-off-way-off chance we wouldn’t be leaving that building without a kid in hand. She is smart. We would be physically prepared, though not mentally. Harrison Hospital is the other half of the building that our (Wendi’s) doctor’s office is at so it was simply a matter of going upstairs. They put us in a very nice room and hooked Wendi up to several machines that went ping! This was mid-morning. Soon after she was hooked up, they administered a medication (“oxytocin” or something like that) designed to gradually induce labor. The Old School method of releasing the body’s own oxytocin was squeezing the nipples. (The mother’s) They chose the IV route.

There we sat for hours and hours with really not much happening. Wendi lay on the bed with monitors hooked up to her. We watched TV and contacted folks by cell phone. (My one positive contribution was ensuring that the phones were charged up.)

Eventually, I noticed several similarities between this hospital stay and the last one I spent time in: Sacred Heart, with Mom. Lots of cups of ice chips. Staff-members bringing in heated sheets laughingly called “blankets”. The happy face to sad face pain charts. And always the All-Powerful/All-Knowing Nurses coming in to help with the fear and pain. Those wonderful nurses.

Personally, it was the feeling of Just a bit more time. Just give me a little bit more time.  Life always has other plans.

Anyway, I just found it amusing that the standard procedure for checking into this world is basically the same for checking out.

Eventually, Tina showed up to assist as only a Mom can. And the nurses brought more chipped ice. By late afternoon, it was clear that the IV wasn’t doing the trick and further steps were to be taken. (We had enough time to watch a movie favorite Tremor by this time though.) So Dr. McMillan broke the “bag of waters”. (AKA Amniotic Sac) Actually, she popped it but let’s not quibble.

This really sped things up and intensified the contractions. We were able to see the scale and timing of them on one of the many “ping” machines. Granted, Wendi didn’t need no stinkin’ ma-cheens to tell her that they were coming on and probably could have done without the “Holy Cow! How’d that feel? That one was 30 points higher than the last one!” comments from the peanut gallery. Wendi described it as having a really full bladder. Then having a REALLY full bladder. Then, a REALLY, REALLY full one and so on.

After a very long hour? Two? The doctor said she wasn’t really any further along and there were mild signs of baby distress and it was time for The Next Step. Bless her heart, Dr. McMillan seemed genuinely apologetic and said if Wendi wanted to, they could go into this labor thing for another hour. Wendi, after all those God-Awful contractions sans pain medications (again, because of possible harm to the allegedly distressed baby) was very ready for the benefits of 21st Century medicine. Hell, at this point, she would’ve welcomed leaches had they offered any hope of relief.

They got an epidural in her which provided immediate relief, put me in a silly looking gown and wheeled her away to the OR. There, she was shifted to the operating table, a large screen was placed just below her collarbone to discourage husband puking and I just tried not to touch anything that might break. Wendi remained conscious the whole time, feeling no pain but plenty of pressure. Sometime during the procedure, she asked the anesthesiologist what that burning smell was. He basically told her it was her. The doctors were cauterizing the wound. And doctors there was aplenty. In addition to our OB/GYN, there was an attending OB/GYN, the anesthesiologist, the pediatrician and about a zillion nurses. Like I said, I tried to be on my best behavior.

After a remarkably short time, Wendi’s doctor asked if I’d like to see the kid’s head. Though the question of where the rest of him might be ran through my mind, I didn’t want to seem a wimp so I carefully peaked around the screen just long enough to get a glimpse of this gooey muppet-looking thing. In short order, they had him out and the nurses whisked him away to do the Apgar Test, a standardized test given to all newborns. Fortunately, he had all his fingers and toes, a reasonably normal skin color and cried with gusto. One test passed. About 2.4 million to go.

While they sewed and burned my wife, I went with Alexander to the nursery where he stayed for about 3 hours, under a warm lamp while the nurses and pediatrician continued to check vitals and tell me what a fabulous looking baby he was. Who am I to naysay the experts?

The rest of the evening was a blur. I eventually tried to find Wendi but she was still being sewn and burned. I chatted with Harold and Tina who were pleased as punch everything went well. Wendi was soon wheeled in, very groggy and very cold. (I guess Ors are kept a perfect temperature as long as you’re wearing something more than just a sheet.) While she was being heated under heated blankets, Alexander Eric was wheeled in on his portable bassinet.

Harold and Tina were elated, of course: kisses, hugs and handshakes all around. (I heard Tina murmur, “This one is from Jeanne.” to Xander after her second infant smooch.) As it was well after midnight at this time, they went to our place to sleep and the three of us went to sleep in the room. Well, only I was really awake at this point.

The next two days were a series of nurse visits, doctors visits, friends stopping by, Aunt Ginny and Cousin Inge and Heath visiting and yet more nurse visits. And lots and lots of “That’s normal. Don’t worry about it. You’re doing fine.”

Right, like that’ll work.

And Alexander? He slept most of the time, which is standard operating procedure for day olds. Friday night, he simply wouldn’t stop crying unless we picked him up. After about 6 hours of this, we availed ourselves of the nursery’s offer to take him off our hands for the evening so we could get some sleep. Something we were sorely lacking at this point. The nurses assured us that this was pretty normal and that parents need their rest also but that didn’t keep me from feeling like Turd Father of the Year.

Despite his occasional bouts of fussiness, he’s a fun little fellow. His variety of expressions are quite comical. His most common look is one of concern though. Perhaps he’s figured out who the president is…

As to whom he takes after, it’s hard to tell. He has a tendency for hiccups. That’s me in a big way. Wendi also noticed he has slight bumps on his ears which are similar to mine. Ears being as distinctive as fingerprints, you know.  Most importantly at this stage, Alexander can sleep well. This makes a BIG difference to rookies like us. And boy, can that boy fart. Oh My God, when he breaks wind, it stays broken!

Despite the trials, we survived and went home on Sunday. Stepping outside of that air-conditioned building was an exhilarating experience. Harrison Hospital is a great place but we were ready to go home.

Since coming home, we’re eased into a routine that seems to work: 8 or 9 feedings a day (each feeding takes about 45-55 minutes) throughout the majority during the day. The longest stretch is about four to four and a half hours starting at midnight. This gives the illusion of a good night’s sleep. We take another nap right after the 4:00 AM feeding when Tina takes the watch. We’ll need to rejigger with this in a few days.

Whatever we’re doing seems to be working okay. During our appointment with the pediatric nurse yesterday, we learned that Xander had gained back nearly all his original birth weight. She was very complimentary about how well he looked and the job we were doing.

My gut just eats this sort of thing up though my head says that pediatric nurses say this to any new parents. Lord Knows they need it.

Walking through the house, there are reminders of the life I used to lead. The books I used to read, often two or three at a time, the radio I’d listen to and the large bathtub we’d take long hot baths in every night. All gone with the wind type stuff. Or maybe not.

I am also reminded of Mom quite a bit. Maybe it was all the time spent at the hospitals, maybe it was that she missed “the news” by so little time. As she would say, “Such is life.”

Well, that’s about it. This thing’s been written in 10-25 minute snatches over Tuesday and Wednesday. Now there’s at least some sort of record to go into the “For Posterity” folder. And maybe you all got something out of it.

Thanks,

Your Son/Brother/Nephew/Cousin/Friend/Arch-Nemesis

Brian  

Our Fabulous Day

7/17/2003

Our Thursday morning Dr. McMillan appointment started at 8:00 like it always does. That went well. Wendi hadn’t gained any weight, her blood pressure was down and her urine wasn’t showing any protein. The doctor also told us that the baby was doing fine; actually on the large side (nearly 6 pounds) and that the plan was still to induce a week early. That is, if Mother Nature didn’t beat us to the punch. As it stood, Xander was now considered a full term baby and could deliver anytime. We got a 2:00 time for our “let’s just be on the safe side” sonogram. (Also called an ultrasound.)

Immediately after the appointment, Wendi got her stress test which is where they hook up a fetal heart monitor to the belly (the pregnant woman’s belly, that is) and the heart rate is monitored while the woman hits a clicker whenever she feels the baby kick. The idea is that the heart rates should go up as the activity level goes up. Everything so far, so good but it was another hour down the tubes.

At 1:45, we show up for our sonogram and, despite our hopes of seeing whether lil’ Xander’s got my Mom’s freakish thumbs or Wendi’s dark, brown hair, we basically just saw a whole bunch of blobs again. However, the technician seemed quite satisfied with what she saw. But she had to send the results to Dr. McMillian upstairs. That she did whilst I tried to wipe Wendi’s stomach clear of the all the goo used to make a good contact.

When techie comes back, she tells us that the doctor would like us to stop by upstairs. No biggie. However, when we saw Doctor’s Assistant Julie pushing a wheelchair down the hall towards us. “Oh shit, we’re just not going to get those Pooh stickers up….” But it seems they just wanted Wendi to go through another series of stress tests at the Woman and Children’s Clinic on the other side of the building.  This is where we’ll be delivering at some time in the future.

We were there for a one hour stress test and then another hour one after that. While the facility is very nice, it was still not the most exciting way to spend an afternoon. In fact, it was boring as hell. What makes it worse is that we didn’t bring Wendi’s “Busy Bag” full of stuff we can work on when the mood strikes us. We were only going to be 45 minutes!

While I was checking in and getting my visitor pass (they take security VERY seriously here) a young woman was checking in. When asked, she said her DOB was 1982.

God, I’m old….

At about quarter past 5, we stumbled out of there: the Pregnant One hungry as hell and demanding lobster. That’s when you got the call. It would have been nice to share these adventures with someone. No doubt, you were reading your 43rd teacher training book of the summer. Or pulling out stumps with your bare hands in the back yard. Something productive. It’s too bad because you could have seen a small round woman eat nearly her weight in shellfish. Something everyone should see at least once in their lifetime.

Well, this little episode really put the Fear of God into us. (Though we had plenty of that already.) Tomorrow, it’s all about the Baby Room, the Take to the Hospital Bag, tracking down the glider (rockers are so 20th Century!) just getting serious! Unfortunately, I am obviously inept to do any shopping for things like gliders or curtains. Tina’s over in Winthrop and Wendi’s down for the count. (She actually asked the doctor if shopping was okay if I “pushed her around in a cart”.  Dr. McMillan was having NONE of that, thank you.)

So she and I will get done what we can before The Time Comes. Tomorrow, it’s over to Seattle for me to get about 3 month’s worth of hay. (Laugh if you must…)

That reminds me. The bun sitter is all lined up. Trina might not be around if we deliver early. Consider yourself on standby. (That is, pretty please.)

Sigh, I’ve recorded our harrowing adventures and will keep a copy for posterity. Hope this is of interest to you as, well, you might be in the same predicament.

Don’t be shy about staying in contact. Watching the woman try to rise off the couch is quite entertaining in itself.

Speaking of which, best go see to her needs.

Adios.

B.

Really Down to It

7/10/2003

To Everyone,

  Well, we’re really down to it. Tomorrow’s Wendi’s last day of work and that’ll be just a few hours. Darn that pregnancy-induced high blood pressure! (AKA Preeclampsia) I’ve heard stories of women in Eastern Gunngadesh giving birth in the rice fields and getting right back to work. Granted, it’s only men who tell these apocryphal stories.

Ah, one good thing about Wendi staying home. Wendi can stop bothering with socks. Or rather, she can stop ordering me to wedge them onto her very swollen feet. Time for her to be the barefoot and pregnant wife she was meant to be.

The hospital pre-check in (called Stork Express) went well. The nurse was very impressed that we’d taken just about every class offered under the sun. (Except the obstetric anesthesia class which won’t be until next Wednesday.)

The doctor mentioned the option of inducing a week or two early.  That’d be okay with me. Let’s get the show on the road! Wendi has already informed me that I’m to be her entertainment for the foreseeable  future while she’s bed/couch ridden. All that and 80 degree weather? It’s gonna be a looong July….

This unfortunately means my summer vacation is really over now; no more matinees, playing xBox all day or sneaking over to Seattle. Now it’s seriously catering to HER EVERY WHIM.

Kinda sorta thought I was doing that already.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) most of my summer to do list is done. My first few weeks of summer were extremely busy. The beginning of July is when I traditionally go over to the Valley but not so this year. Wendi set a June 31st deadline for any trips east. Sigh…Didn’t quite plan this one out very well.

As a result, the week has been extremely boring. Yes, my brothers ARE telling me to quit whining but who cares? They didn’t manage the baby shower so they can pack sand. J

One good bit of news is that Harold’s coming over with the baby furniture (Wendi’s old stuff, actually) so we can we start to have a baby room that actually looks like what it’s supposed to. The crib is on order and should be here in another week or so.

Dad’s also supposed to be coming over so we can clean out the garage; my last major household project. No doubt he’ll come up with several other things we should do.

One thing occupying all my “free” time has been college/estate planning. Well, not so much DOING anything but learning the ropes. This has been both interesting and encouraging. Procrastination and planning based on false assumptions have put more folks in the poor house than every low public-employee wage did. We’re hoping Wendi can take nearly a year off before she has to go to work so budgeting/money management will have to be well-thought out. (That’s where Wendi really comes into the picture.) There may be hope for us yet; both in terms of the next year and long term retirement.

Mom’s extremely limited options at life’s end really put the Fear of God into me. As it should all of you…

I recently read Raising Cain about the emotional lives of boys and how not to screw them up. (Important Note: Boys aren’t just defective females. They’re supposed to be like that.) How did Mom survive?

Let’s see, anything else to impart? Wendi-lots of bedrest. Brian-bored all today. Xander’s been having lots of hiccups. That’s something. PLENTY of items left on our Target.com baby registry. (Yes, that means YOU, you low-down, non-baby shower coming siblings!)

Best go see if the Wife wishes her drink freshened, pillow fluffed or anything else. I’ll keep you informed.

Brian

Getting Ready

06/18/2003

Auntie

   It’s early afternoon and I’m coming off a 2 hour tidying-up binge and have finally decided to stop moving around so much. Writing a letter seemed a good use of time. Wendi’s always telling me I’ve got to learn to relax. That’s fine as long as this “relax” thing doesn’t involve immobility and/or wasting time.

   Yesterday, Wendi, Tina and Aunt Ginni went out to Target to work on Bean baby registry. Well, actually, Wendi and Ginni were working on it. Tina seemed too busy buying stuff for her new grandchild to bother. Upstairs in the soon to be baby room, we have a pile of baby clothes and a pile of baby “other”. That stuff really adds up. Never fear! There’ll still be plenty left over for the shower. (Which is the 21st, I think.)

   Meanwhile, I tooled around Seattle: picking up hay for the buns, going to a real computer store and the library. I also swung by Dad’s and finally got a look at the crib he’s been working on for months. To my shock, there’s a difference between a “crib” and a “cradle”. (Like in the rock-a-by song.)

   Dad has made the latter, which looks okay for a VERY small baby but doesn’t negate the need for a crib some 6 months into Bean’s existence. This’ll work fine really as we may want something for downstairs. Besides which, Wendi will be nervous about putting her precious one in anything without the Consumer Report or Girlfriend’s Guide Stamp of Approval on it. I don’t know what they did back in The Day, but young, overly educated mothers today wish to reduce the chance of any mishap to statistical insignificance. And then bring it down just a little bit more…

No doubt in 20-30 years, we will all be laughing about how primitive things were in the “Ought” (“aughts”? “Oughts”?) but that is the way of things.

   I have been getting very interested in estate planning: like the world needed more proof I was born middle aged. We will be setting up a trust for any/all of our wee ones. No use letting the courts in on the action. Wendi and I are still considering our options for godparents. We’ve sort of settled on Jeff and Maria though Wendi needs a bit more time to stew about it before we ask.

    So the wife will probably take several more weeks to decide and then I’ll just take care of it when she’s not looking. She’s having a terrible time trying to decide on a car seat; imagine how much more worrying this will take. And now we’ve got a crib to get….

    Were I in charge, we’d make at least 3Xs as many decisions a day, AT LEAST 75% of which would not be life threatening.

   Sounds like I won’t see you at the Shower but we’ll see you later this summer. Take care.

Love,

B.

My Plans (Apologies for the Length)

11/10/2002

JB,

Wendi told me earlier she'd talked with you this morning and you told her you'd take care of the getting a sub for Tuesday and Wednesday. Thanks. The wife's also trying to get ahold of A so he can help J plan out a bit.

As silly as this sounds, this is all very sudden. Yes, the doctors did give us a 1 to 3 month diagnosis but in my mind, it was going be closer to 3 than 1. We chatted nicely yesterday morning. I took some pictures with her and my brother Gregg, my cousin and her daughter came by. All pretty normal. Mom wasn't in super condition; it was very hard to understand what she was saying but she was tracking the conversations well enough. We tried to get her to swallow an anti-nausea pill so she could eat something more substantial than root beer floats (her 'food' of choice over the past few days) without vomiting. For some reason, it just went downhill from there. She was gone within an extremely long 90 minutes.

I wouldn't wish death from lung cancer on anybody. It was not terribly peaceful though I don't think she was in any physical pain but her body was struggling for breath and that was difficult to bear and will be a painful memory.

However, she died at home surrounded by her sister, three of her sons and her wonderful caregiver. In the previous two weeks, she'd had a chance to talk with/make peace with all the important folks in her life. At the end, Aunt B and brother sang her favorite songs to her while holding her hands. Mom, though dying, still managed to joke, smile and even try to sing along right up to the end. There are worse ways to go...

This is the first death of someone close to me I've ever experienced. The last one in the family was my Grandpa and I was 4 years old and didn't really know him at all. I don't know how I feel about all this. Anguished about the suffering she endured. (Not a whole lot but she was my mother and all.) Relieved that "it's over". Glad that my older brothers who lived in the same town, can get on with their lives. I'm also very saddened that our future kids won't get a chance to know "Grandma Jean" like my nieces all did. Mostly, it's just a feeling of disconnect. We cleaned out her tiny little house today and it felt like being in a very odd play. Is this it? Is this all we come  to? Deciding who gets what and trying to make sure the bills are paid? Sigh...

Mostly, I'm just exhausted. Tired of being sad, tired of reliving those painful last breaths or just thinking, "She and I were talking just 24 hours ago". Mostly, just tired of thinking. I need a mind colonic in the worst way. Sure wish I'd brought the Game Cube. :)

The memorial service is next Saturday. We're having a public shindig at a local resort and then a smaller gathering at my eldest brother's house just for family. My Mom was a very popular writer for the local newspaper so we're concerned that too many people might show up. Who knows with these things?

We will probably just make that trip an overnighter. (Though I know I could take more time if needed.) I for one am looking forwarded to some sort of normalcy returning. Well, normalcy starting up.

As Wendi mentioned, I plan to be back to work on Thursday. There's a day or two of settling up stuff here. And I'd like a bit of time to readjust to Silverdale life. However, my plans may include sneaking in one night to work on grades. I'll get more done with nobody around and I'm not ready to say anything meaningful to the inevitable question, "How you doing?" (Maybe a button that says "Sad, but that's okay!".)

You would've liked my Mom, I think. She had the "little old country lady" bit down to a high art.

But, like her youngest son, she had to write about things to figure out what she thought on a subject (but Mom had the courtesy to NOT e-mail her musings to poor, unsuspecting souls).

Share if you wish with the staff. R's been kept up to date as of this morning but that's about it. However, this shouldn't be a shock to anyone as they all seemed to know the  reason for all the time off.

Thanks for listening and being a good boss.

Brian

Where I’m At

10/27/2002

J

I've just returned from Spokane to see my Mom. Last Thursday we learned she has terminal cancer and she has elected to forgo any further treatment with the exception of pain mitigation. According to the doctors, she may have a  month or up to six. Anyway, she's very keen on getting back to her little house but she will need round the clock assistance (in addition to the hospice medical care which her insurance will provide) and that will involve all of us 4 brothers to help. I may need to take a day or two off every couple weeks or so but will try to have my "watches" only on the weekend.

Because this is very difficult to discuss, even with caring, well-meaning coworkers, I'd prefer to keep this under wraps. You know because this may affect my job performance, R knows because we're very close with the Ws and I told A in case I wasn't here tomorrow and my sub needed help. If my students ask, I will simply say that my relative is receiving excellent  care and will be going home soon.

As my original plans were to come back on Saturday, allowing me today to prep for next week, I'm now very behind in going over Thursday and Friday's work as well as preparing for next week. Might we reschedule our meeting tomorrow morning?

Thank you.

Brian Hardy