Raising Genderless: Honoring A Toddler's Choice

Outside the box

When Kiddo was born, and even before, I swore I wouldn't pigeon-hole him. I didn't want to keep him from being himself, whoever that was. So I promised, to myself and him, that I would protect and honor his preferences.

I promised I wouldn't push my ideas and preferences onto him.

That is easier said than done, however I think I've done a reasonable job. Sometimes they creep up on me, like when he wanted the Elmo sleepers marketed for girls, covered in pink flowers. I heard myself saying, "girl sleepers" and I had to pick my jaw off the floor.

Since when was that a problem? Sleepers are just sleepers. Who would even see them? Why would that make a difference anyway?! I bought pink and purple cloth diapers for him. How was that any different?

I rationalized my non-purchase by saying they were poly. Kiddo can't wear synthetics coated in flame-retardant. They pill and make him stink from sweat. Plus, they feel awful and the chemicals negatively impact developing endocrine systems. I only let him wear cotton sleepers.

I didn't even touch them to find out what they were. I didn't get close enough because Kiddo was throwing a tantrum he wanted them so badly. I was annoyed, exasperated. I didn't want to get him any more sleepers, that's true, but something else was bothering me. The sleepers were pink.


I was reacting to the fact that he wanted something that was "for girls."

But he's just a little boy. It shouldn't matter that he has a penis or not. It shouldn't matter one way or another what he wears or likes. He should be able to explore himself and what he likes whatever shape that takes.

So I'm grateful for Target's choice to take down their artificial gender barriers. It allows that exploration for all kids. I don't feel weird looking at play food, baby dolls, and remote control cars in the same aisle.Those are all things Kiddo likes. He also likes cleaning, building, and every sport that contains a ball. I'm glad the pressure is off about what is okay for a parent to purchase their child, because frankly, I'm on the cultural border.

Kiddo really likes the color pink. And Abby Cadabby. He sleeps every night with a stuffed Grover and Abby. He likes both a lot. Yes he screams out and giggles when he sees Super Grover, but he also waves his arms like he's a fairy before the Sesame Street fairy school segment.

This may end up being his favorite toy...

Which is why I bought him the Flying Fairy School for his birthday.

It was a great deal. I found it for half the usual price and it gave him two figurines as well as few pieces of furniture along with the school itself. I know he's going to love it. And yes, the characters have wings. And wands. And are purple and pink. Which happen to be his favorite colors.

So what?

Watching Steelers pre-season

Kiddo is a stereotypical boy in many ways. He just collected another bruise today from yet another fall (growing and going TOO fast). He runs around screaming at the top of his lungs. He loves trucks, and cars, and adores
motorcycles. He loves all sports involving balls - golf, soccer, baseball, football, basketball, tennis (yes, even tennis!). But he also likes to pretend to cook and play with figures. His made-up stories often involve hugs and kisses. He loves fairies, butterflies, pink, and purple. He is empathetic, and works hard to make people feel better when they are upset or sad by giving them his toys, hugs, or trying to make them laugh. He shares (I know, but seriously - he does!) at least half the time. He likes sparkles.

And I can't blame him. I like all those things (well, I'm not crazy about watching tennis, but playing is all right. Golf bores the snot out of me, but mini golf is kind of fun.).

The point is his sex organs do not dictate what I give him. And they don't dictate who he is now or will become as an adult. If he wants to wear "girl sleepers," that's okay. That was just a label someone else gave a product that fits any child. And if my toddler loves that product (and I do too), then by the grace of our capitalist overlords, I will let him have it.

Alien Energy: Better Than Caffeine

Kiddo is hyper. I mean, I knew he was active, but I didn't realize how much more active he was compared to other kids.

When nursing, I can get hands and feet in the face. Sometimes Kiddo gets his butt hiked into the air and wiggles so much, he collapses back down again. When he wakes up in the morning, he climbs everywhere, all over - tumbling and jumping, singing, and telling stories.

This is the kind of kid that doesn't just have a second wind, he has a third, and sometimes a fourth. In order to make sure he sleeps a full night, I have to actively run him ragged. I have to force him to walk uphill and climb playground equipment for several hours if I want to ensure a solid night of sleep. Otherwise, it's anyone's guess how much he'll sleep.

And of course, once he wakes, all cylinders will be running.

But I thought this was just how toddlers were. I didn't think he was above average in his energy levels. I mean, when he first encounters people, he is often hesitant, and reserved. I thought that meant he was average.

No. I was wrong. Completely wrong. Kiddo is WILD.

I know this because we went to the park yesterday and he chased after a strange boy and threw his ball at the boy, almost knocking the poor kid down. He ran around screaming his head off (for fun, not throwing a fit). He ran the entire time. He drummed his ball. He threw his ball. He giggled and squealed and sang. And the three other kids stared at him. They functioned at a fraction of his energy. And this was after walking around the block and playing with Grandma's dog.

And at home? He ran around again, throwing all his toys every which way. He did laps for 5 minutes straight around the second floor. He squealed. He told stories. He played with his figurines. He sang songs. We had to persuade him to get a bath with heavy references to specific bath toys. And he only agreed to bath time grudgingly.

Losing my earlier baby weight took a little effort. My continuous inches lost... is no wonder. I chase a toddler. I play with a toddler. If you had a kid as active as mine, you'd be losing weight too.

Now, if I could just bottle this or develop some kind of silver bullet system, I might have something here...

In the mean time, I'll settle for watching Kiddo fixing to be some kind of alien superhero with his magical energy reserves.

And honestly, I'm okay with this.

...And Many More: 1 Year Well Baby Visit

12 Month Molar Drool!

Well, Kiddo is now up-to-date. He had his 12 month well baby visit on Wednesday and we got his stats:

30.75 inches long
22 lbs 14 oz
18.25 cm around his noggin

He's just above the 50% according to the clinic. I'm not sure if that's all babies, or just breastfed babies. They didn't get into that. All I know is that Kiddo is now just slightly above average in size.

I knew his growth would peter out, but I didn't realize how sharply it would drop off. To go from 90% at birth to 50% a year later seems crazy...except of course, he's normal. Everyone has always said he was perfectly normal, which is good when talking development. You want normal. I feel blessed to have normal. I really do.

Part of me thinks exceptional would be bigger, or smaller, and it would, but maybe exceptional is also smack dab in the middle. Average is how beauty is determined - the average sized nose is ideal. The average sized eyes is perfect. The average cheek bone is desirable. Not too much, not too little - each body part has a Goldie Locks zone.

Kiddo is the archetype of Goldie Locks when it comes to his body. I mean, he does have really small feet (Is that a thing for guys in mainland China? If it is, I think Kiddo could totally win that game!) and his torso is slightly longer and, okay, his hips are kind of wide... but that's nit picking. Just a cursory glance and you'd think this kid is perfect. And really, that's what parents want. That's what I wanted.

The crazy active nursing that involves butts hiked high into the air and legs going straight up past my ears is no thang compared to having a developmentally on target kid. The sassiness and explosive temper tantrums that began at 9 months or so is not a problem at all. I don't mind.

I don't mind because Kiddo hits every milestone like clockwork. My pregnancy was like that too. Everything was textbook when it came to the nausea coming  or going, the kicks being felt, his measurements in the ultrasounds etc etc. In many ways, the whole process has been perfectly average. And I thank GOD every day that it is. With everything else topsy turvy in my life, I couldn't handle Kiddo being sick. I would break. Permanently.

And because I can't handle Kiddo being sick, I was even more grateful for the series of expensive vaccines he got courtesy of MediCal. Because of insurance issues throughout his short life, Kiddo was behind on his shots. It really bothered me. I'm not one of those women who doesn't believe in scientific inquiry. On the contrary, I read and research a ton about various aspects of child health so that I can make informed decisions.

I'd like Kiddo to not die of a preventable illness, or become deaf, or sterile, or crippled for life because I was too crazy not to vaccinate. That is not a gamble I'm willing to make. Not even remotely. So I don't cry when I have to hold Kiddo still so he can get both thighs and arms pricked while he's screaming his head off. I feel relieved when he has a low grade fever and a little bruise next to the injection site because he has an injection site.

Happy Birthday Baby!

...and thanks Obama.

I have to thank the President once again for making health care available to the pleblic. Kiddo might be naturally healthy and perfect to look at, but I need a little help to keep him that way. It's nice to know I won't have to worry about something as important as my child's health.

Singing Baby

Speaking of Kiddo's antics... here he is singing.

Frustrations

Sometimes Kiddo will play and reach an impasse. There will be something he can't quite do, but wants to. He knows how it needs to be done, he just doesn't have the skills yet. The result is a bit of a baby tantrum.

He cries. He whines. He whimpers. He wails.

The current saving grace from this is distraction, but sometimes there's no distraction big enough.

I know how he feels. I've never been very physically coordinated. Gym class was a personal horror for me through much of my public education. This was mostly because I understood the mechanics of the activities, I just couldn't get my body to do them.

Now I empathize with Kiddo's frustration in a different way. I see the things I want to get done and recognize I have only a fraction of the time needed to do them. I literally cannot do them all. I have to prioritize. I have to compromise. I have to accept the fact that certain parts of my life have to be placed on the back burner or tabled permanently.

It's a difficult thing to accept, especially in the face of my ambitions.

So when I see Kiddo crying because he doesn't have the basic skills to put his shapes into the sorter or successfully stack the pieces of his stacking toy, I feel for him. Fortunately, there will come a time in the near future when he can do these things. I only hope the same can be said for myself.

Surprisingly Scary Things

Kiddo is weird. He's weird because strange things upset him these days.
Here's what can make him wail:

• Mirror lenses 
• Loud noises
• Sneezes
• Someone blowing their nose
• Mommy disappearing behind the shower curtain (even if he can hear me singing or talking)
• Mommy going to another room
• Mommy's back to him (a few seconds is all it takes)
• Diaper changes (he used to love)

Things that should upset him but don't:

• Grandma's dog (it hurt him twice but he doesn't seem to care)
• Bonking his head on the tile (he laughs now)
• Strangers (he loves people)
• Watching Mommy workout (read: instead of playing - he thinks it's funny and tries to imitate my movements)
• Taking medicine (I think he kind of likes the flavor)

Children are weird. I knew it was possible, but even strange things can be surprising (or alien?).

The Great Alien Dog Disaster

This is Honeybee, the Frenchie

Yesterday brought one of the scarier moments of my experience as a mother. It involved my mother-in-law's French bulldog, Honeybee. Most people would think such a small dog, with such a small mouth would be incapable of doing any damage to a baby. In fact most of the time, people would think such a dog would be so sweet, hurting a baby would be the last thing such an animal would do.

 

 

 

Of course, the thing about dogs is they get jealous. Honeybee has been jealous the every time kiddo has visited. In fact, she's been weird. She's followed people carrying kiddo. She's whined, squeaked, squawked, growled, yapped, and barked at him. She's sniffed at his crotch (I'm sure a very interesting smelling area for a dog!) and his head. She's licked at him. She's snorted at him. She's tried to get onto his changing pad while we were changing his diaper. She's stood on her hind legs for minutes in order to get attention. The whole thing has been weird.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

kiddo, throwing some duck lips

Once she even nipped his sock off. Of course, my father-in-law loves his dog and wants her to get along with the baby. He rushes to the dog's defense whenever someone freaks out about Honeybee getting too close to kiddo. And normally I would be alright with Honeybee doing her weird freakout, except what happened yesterday was not okay.

Kiddo, as you may imagine, has gotten bigger. My mother-in-law is not a very tall woman. She was holding kiddo and his legs dangled down, as one might expect. The dog was jumping and running under foot. My mother-in-law was asking my father-in-law to get the dog out of the way. Honeybee decided she couldn't handle my mother-in-law holding kiddo. She jumped up and nipped his foot. For a second kiddo was quiet. I looked at my mother-in-law and then said, "She just bit him!"

Sure enough, a second later kiddo began wailing. My mother-in-law went ballistic on the dog, even as she handed me the baby. It broke my heart to see kiddo so upset. I couldn't easily check his foot and soothe him, so instead, I just focused on soothing him while the dog was removed from the house. Then my mother-in-law came and helped me check his foot. As you might expect, even a small Frenchie has teeth and teeth scrape. His pinky toe was bleeding, but it was still moving and quite attached to his foot (thank GOD!). We cleaned him up and put a tiny bandage on it while he screamed and whimpered intermittently.

Honeybee is no longer allowed to be in the house when we visit, at least not until kiddo is able to defend himself (or she gets a muzzle!). We were lucky this time, but we don't want to push it.

kiddo and Java napping together

I wanted kiddo to get along with the animals in his life. But dogs and babies don't really mix, not unless their trained specifically to be. Cats, thankfully are another matter altogether. Kiddo actually pets Java - starting a week ago he loves to pet Java our cat, and Java purrs happily enjoying his attentions. They even curl up together. It's a completely different relationship than the one he has with Honeybee, and I couldn't be happier about that. It would be so awful to have to get rid of an animal because they couldn't handle being around a child.

What are your stories of babies/children and pets? Have you had success or has it been a disaster? Share below!

An Alien Dedication

After kiddo's dedication

This past Sunday kiddo was dedicated at my dad's church. Most people are probably familiar with the Catholic version of this, baptism, but Baptists believe it's everyone's individual choice whether they should be baptized. For this reason, kiddo wasn't dunked or sprinkled or involved in water whatsoever.

Instead, it's a public testament by both the parents and the congregation to raise and help guide the child in a Christian way.

This may seem antiquated to some people. Some might ask, why on Earth would parents dedicate their child? What's the point? Well, if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: it's good to raise a child in a faith community.

I'm not just thinking about the ethics and values that are taught in a faith community, but also the support that is so necessary in raising a child. More than ever I recognize the need to have more than just my husband and myself to take care of kiddo. There have been so many times when it has been necessary to have my parents or Christian's parents present to help with kiddo, but I know that anyone in our church would be more than willing and able to care for him, offer advice, or any kind of support we need.

This is even more helpful as kiddo doesn't have "godparents." I mean originally godparents were a Catholic thing (again) - two people who were meant to specifically guide a child through his or her faith. Now the more common understanding of godparents is a couple (usually married, but could be two separate individuals) who would care for the child assuming anything happened to the parents.

Kiddo doesn't have godparents and I wish he did. Yes, I know family could come to the rescue, but I would prefer to have someone outside of the family who had similar values and would raise kiddo as close to the way we would. We've thought about friends over and over again, and several names come to mind, but we haven't approached those people, nor have we really committed to an order of preference.

So in the meantime, we content ourselves with the amazing support system inherent in our church. There are worse things. :-)

Super Baby Talk and Other Advanced Milestones

Remember how I said my alien kiddo is a super baby? Yeah. It keeps coming.

Last week he started repeating the word "Hi." Before that he was imitating the word "Hello" as well as his gummy mouth could say it. Last night he started adding "How are you?" and "I love you."

I have witnesses. I'm perfectly serious about this.

Is your jaw on the floor? Because mine was.

Obviously kiddo doesn't understand the meaning behind all these words he's imitating, but his verbal brain has clearly passed into overdrive. He talks ALL the time (Is this the result of two minister grandparents? I canna say!). He also appears to attempt singing.

We already know he likes music (He watched The Voice and The Sing-Off as avidly as any fan - and cries when it goes back to talking!). He's recently begun to "talk" while people are singing, and stops when the music stops. It's adorable!

Can I just remind everyone this kid is only 15 weeks old? That's CRAZYPANTS!

In other news, kiddo is: holding his hands together, passing things from one hand to the other, rolling over and back again (with effort), sitting up supported by his hands, bearing weight on his feet (held securely by Mom in her lap), grasping toys easily (and bringing them to his mouth), and even rolling his ball back and forth!

All of this is REALLY exciting for many, many reasons! I'm pretty sure I don't have to worry about kiddo's development at all, except to keep up with it (which is a challenge I will gladly take!).

Has your baby wowed you with their development? Leave a comment below! I'd love to read your story!

I Know My Baby Will Be...

There's this thing about parenting; you want your kid to be special. You want your kid to be awesome. The thing is, every kid isn't. But just like the Bible, you can find evidence even at the youngest ages that your kid is amazing or has some kind of cool something or other.

Just don't be surprised if your kid isn't...especially.

Keep in mind, I'm saying this as much to remind myself as to help you out. Really. I'm doing the same thing. So, I figured I would provide you some entertainment at the expense of myself...

I know kiddo is going to be an artist because he stares at paintings and gets really excited when you stare at the same painting he likes.

I know kiddo is going to win eating contests because, well, he seems to be shooting for the most milk in a 24 hour period.

I know kiddo is working on his vampirism because he flinches every time he goes into direct sun (or maybe just a goth?).

I know kiddo is going to be a big burly man not only because he's at the top of the growth charts, but because he's a ginger.

I know kiddo will play soccer because he kicks...a lot.

I know kiddo will walk before crawling because he hates tummy time and loves to be on his feet.

I know kiddo will be a musician because of his large hands and the fact he cries when the music gets turned off.

I know kiddo will be a social butterfly because he prefers to sit at the table on someone's lap at dinner than to be relegated to the pak n' play.

And finally...I know kiddo will be a genius. That one's obvious...I mean, he's got us for parents. ;-)

What do you swear your kid will be and why? Leave a comment below!

Happy Family

And another photo of us very shortly after kiddo's birth (2.5 weeks?). I'm just bulking you up now in case I miss posting later this week...

You can tell this was so early on because kiddo is listing to the side. He doesn't really do that these days...like ever. But there you are.

Happy Halloween!

Because we've been going through a bit of a wonder week with kiddo, I've really only had time to work on my next novel (sorry the blog has been lacking). I do however have a few posts floating around my mind.

Since his five week wonder week, kiddo began social smiling (at six weeks, on October 15 he gave me the biggest smile ever for the very first time). After his seven week wonder week, he began cooing (starting on October 25) and then this past Monday (October 28) he gave a little giggle for the first time.

It's been a big leap forward for kiddo.

As such, I thought you'd appreciate a few cute pics of the adorable little alien with his doting parents.

Wishing you all a safe, happy, and chocolate filled Halloween!

6 Week Giant

Remember how I wasn't sure if kiddo was a giant? Well, he is. Today at our final postpartum appointment at the birth center we weighed him. Keep in mind he's exactly 6 weeks. Keep in mind the average - the average - breastfed baby gains 5-7 ounces per week...

13 lbs 5 oz.

Seriously.

Who needs free weights?

Remember how much he was at birth? 9 lbs 8 oz. Then at the first (or was it second? It was the first week anyway!) appointment he actually lost 10% of his birth weight and was 8 lbs 9 oz...sooo he's gained over 4 lbs since that time.

F-O-U-R POUNDS!

The average baby puts on about T-W-O by their 6 week mark. 2. That's it. Just 2.

It would appear that kiddo will stay in the 90th percentile and I'm crossing my fingers for athletic scholarships in his future.

It could happen. Christian's family does that sort of thing, and I was always really good at school. The combo seems likely. So Ivy League it is? Crossies!

Alien, Giant, or Super Baby?

My kid is too big. I mean really.

At his second well baby visit we discovered he'd gained 9 oz in 4 days (since he was weighed at the midwife postpartum visit). He's only worn 3 month size since he was born, though he might have gotten away with newborn depending on the make...maybe...probably not.

Actually...not.

I discovered today that he is too long for his 3 month sized sleepers. Thankfully I only have one that is a footie sleeper. The other one is open at the ankles, so he might be able to wear it a little longer. I'm crossing my fingers because they're so darn cute but I'm not getting my hopes up.

Because kiddo is so long, I decided to take out some of the 3-6 month sized sleepers that we have. They look a little too long off...but on? My guess is he'll fill them out more than I think.

And that's just the sleepers.

When kiddo was born he was swimming in the 3 month sized onesies by most companies. The only one that seemed to fit alright was Gerber. So my mother, awesome woman that she is, bought us some more Gerber onesies. And of course now I can barely get them over his head or pulled down around his middle. Yes, I think I have to retire that set.

Sigh.

This kid is just shy of 6 weeks old and he's already grown out of some 3 month sized clothes (alright...probably the rest of them are just around the corner)! Thankfully my family and friends supplied me with a ton of 6 month sized clothes...so I'm hoping that will carry me to the 3 month mark...but once I get to 9 and 12 months, I'm basically screwed (Christmas anybody?). I have a much smaller stash of clothes for that size...and my guess is kiddo is going to run into that size by February.

My question is now, is kiddo an alien, a giant, or a superbaby? I'm just not sure. Maybe all three? I think I may need to buy stock in Trader Joe's or something.

My Baby is an Alien Superhero

"This is my son, Kal-El."

That's probably what I should be saying when people meet kiddo. Instead I picked a completely non-superhero name (Yes, it was inspired by a prince of Amber, but still...not a superhero!).

Why should kiddo have a superhero name? Well..because he's a super baby. I say this being completely objective, and not letting my motherly pride taint my description. If anything, his actions in his almost 2 weeks of life scare me.

At 9 days old this kid rolled over. I have 2 additional witnesses to this crazy act. He shouldn't be doing that until 4 months. He's been smiling since about 4 days old. He's been sucking on his hand/fingers since he popped out. Did I mention that he could hold his head up by 5 days old? Yeah...that's something he shouldn't have been able to do until like a month or more old.

This kid is on the fast track.

Last night he not only rolled over, but if his arm hadn't gotten caught under him, I think that kid would have started crawling. Believe me...I wouldn't say this unless it was true. I'm not being hyperbolic here. Christian swears he's trying to copy sounds and faces of other people. I'm not sure on that one, but I know when I copy him, he stops to consider what is happening and tries to change what he does with his mouth and the noises he's making...so maybe that's happening too?

Any way I look at it, it's scary. It's scary because it looks like kiddo is going to need a lot of stimulation as he gets older to stave off boredom. He's going to need challenging toys that allow him to explore his environment and flex his mental muscles. Puzzles are going to be our new best friend. And so are blocks. I'm going to have to try to figure out how to expose him to art and music in age appropriate ways (Can you tell I've been reading about this stuff?). I think chess is very much on the docket (Christian will be so pleased.). School seems so far away at 5 years, but at the same time, if kiddo keeps on this fast track, it's something Christian and I will need to plan for because kiddo may be too advanced for it to work well for him.

Of course, I could be getting ahead of myself. I could be. But my gut says babies don't crawl after a few weeks of life. That's unusual. And of course there's more helpful info out there on delayed milestones than there is for advanced milestone achievement.

So...I'm sort of flying blind here, with my alien super baby in tow. And even though the prospect of trying to keep up with his speedy development is a little scary, it's also an exciting challenge. And I'll just keep his crazy achievement record away from moms who are worried about delayed development...I mean, assuming it continues. But, I expect it will. I mean, I was advanced with language and art, so why not kiddo be advanced physically? Seems just as likely.

I just hope he doesn't start walking by 6 months. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up!

The Lies People Tell About Newborns

A rare moment of staring

Being a mother of a newborn has been different than what I expected. Really different.

For one, people said I would be exhausted and a zombie and it would be awful. Well, that's just not true. I mean, yes, my sleep schedule has been disrupted. Yes, my sense of time has been disrupted. I don't really keep track of days and times the same way - in some ways I do it better (and in others it all runs together).

Mostly, I just keep track of moments - moments when kiddo is sleeping, eating, crying, making funny faces or wide awake and staring at the world. Days don't seem to matter - only moments.

The second thing that doesn't really work is the whole "first time mom" thing. I was told that first time mothers are sort of crazy - that I would be crazy. I was told that first time mothers are overprotective and hover, and never let their partners do anything.

Well, I love that Christian takes the baby and changes him. I love that he holds him and makes faces at him, and lets me take a rest. I love being able to have a little bit of me time, even as we adjust to our new roommate. I love having my mother-in-law here helping us as we adjust. I feel quite comfortable letting her take him and spend time with him. It lets Christian and I do things that require more than one set of hands.

But then again, I'm also the kind of mom who doesn't cry or get angry when the caregiver does the newborn screening heel prick. In my mind, they're not hurting my baby - they're helping him (and therefore me as his mom). Apparently logic is rare (according to my midwives at least).

People also told us that having a newborn would be stressful and that hearing his cry would be nerve-wracking.

Well, I find insurance to be way more stressful than my baby. In fact, being around him calms me. I'm sure my blood pressure lowers just by having him in my arms. I don't even find his cry upsetting - at least not how other people led me to believe. 

I don't stress when I hear him crying. I don't freak out. I know he's crying for a reason. That makes his cry feel a lot different - as though he's trying to have a conversation. The only time I even get a little frustrated is when I have difficulty figuring out what he needs, and that's something that will resolve as we get to know one another.

Is everything perfect? No. Are we still trying to figure out routines and what works best? Absolutely. Am I positive I'm doing the right thing all the time? Of course not. But I'm also not stressed about fumbling through things.

And really, I kind of love having a newborn...but I think that will be a separate post. :-)

My Labor Day - An Alien's Arrival

sleeping kiddo on his first morning

When I got pregnant I joked that I might have a Labor Day baby.

The joke's on me.

The following is my birth story, or rather, kiddo's birth story (or both? depending on how you look at it).

Yesterday morning we woke up and Christian made breakfast. As he did, I got dressed as we had a prenatal appointment. I went to the potty and I thought maybe I had a trickle of amniotic fluid down my leg, but I wasn't sure. After all, it wasn't that much and prego ladies are known to have pee issues. I didn't worry about it because I figured it would become clear one way or another.

We went to our prenatal appointment which was at 9:30 am. I had a good amount of energy. My blood pressure was in a better place. I wasn't seeing stars or anything. Everything seemed pretty good. We even got the paperwork for placental encapsulation (which I'm sure I'll do a post on at a later date).

We left the appointment and went home. We were kind of hanging out a little and I felt like I had to pee (an unusual sensation for a 39 week prego lady). I went into the toilet and felt something similar to a menstrual cramp, but intense...almost like there was a drain that had been unplugged (including the twisting water sensation, but inside). I wiped. There was bloody show and a whole lot of amniotic fluid.

"Christian! I just had bloody show!"
"Is it time?!"
"Maybe. I think so."

So what did Christian do? He conked out. I called my mother (about the appointment, but then I started having mild pressure waves/contractions on the phone), texted Christian's mother, and texted the midwives to let them know what was going on. Then I played the Fear Clearing track of HypnoBabies while Christian napped. Then I put on Birthing Day Affirmations...and Hypnotic Childbirth #2 (For those of you who have used HypnoBabies, you'll know what I mean. If you haven't, they're pretty much what the titles sound like.).

Christian woke up and started getting last minute things (and we forgot a ton even still but oh well). He handed me his phone to time my pressure waves (contractions) and at first they were pretty irregular and jarring. Then they became more regular, which I found to be more helpful because I could prepare for them better. And as soon as they were regular, they were around 4 minutes apart and 1 minute long - the time we were supposed to go to the birth center. Christian insisted we wait until there were a few more intervals at the same time and thought he'd even have time to do some laundry (I insisted he not and showed him how consistent things were). After about 45 minutes worth of consistent pressure waves, I called the midwives. I could no longer talk through a pressure wave and had to give the phone to Christian to explain.

Christian hung up and told me that Sonja (one of the midwives) would meet us at the birth center. I nodded, and Christian got the car ready. I told him to put in a towel to protect the seat because I was gushing amniotic fluid after particularly intense pressure waves. Gingerly I made it to the car and we were off. The drive was easy because of the holiday and the fact that the Bay Bridge was closed. It was perfect. When we got to the birth center (Pacifica - which I really recommend) in Berkeley, we parked in the reserved spot. I stood up in the lot and completely soaked my pants in amniotic fluid (lovely!).

We made our way to the birth room and Sonja checked me. Christian put on some more HypnoBabies tracks and the bath was filled. I dumped the soaked pants.

Now, I thought I'd want to be more modest, but when you're in the middle of such an intense experience as giving birth, modesty isn't really on your mind. I got rid of my shirt and bra and sank into the tub.

There was already a candle lit by the tub and the lights were low. Every time a pressure wave hit, I focused on my HypnoBabies training and made a sort of humming/chant sound similar to "Om" or "ah" but with my mouth closed. The sound was really helpful for my focus and made the discomfort of the pressure waves minimal (though the water helped). Christian was there with cool wash cloths for my neck and chest and one of the doulas/apprentice midwives, Anna, periodically checked the baby's heart rate.

The pressure waves became more intense and powerful. As they did, it became clear that I had reached transformation (transition) because my body began to shake a little and the waves changed location. Necessarily the sounds I was making also changed. Despite this, I kept my body incredibly relaxed between each wave. I was so calm and relaxed that the midwives were incredibly impressed, especially with how fast my birthing time (labor) was moving (some time around then the second midwife, Cindy arrived).

About this time I couldn't handle being in the tub any more. I couldn't get into a position that felt right. It was time to get out of the tub. So first I tried leaning on the birth ball on the bed. That was okay but I got to a certain point when it stopped working. Then I tried the birth stool. That worked a little bit. Christian was able to massage my back while I pushed kiddo down. Unfortunately the pressure of the position was negatively impacting kiddo's heart rate, so I needed to move. I tried lying on my side on the bed, but that just resulted in a whole bunch of cramps that were really awful and uncomfortable. So the midwives suggested I lean towards my back, but still kind side-lying. In this position I was able to relax easily between pressure waves/pushes. I found myself really having to focus on breathing. Because of congestion and just general breathing issues, it was something I had to really concentrate on to make work. This was because whenever I pushed, I had to push hard and I was most successful when I held my breath or let it out slowly through the push. When I stopped pushing this way, I had to take deep breaths to make sure kiddo's heart rate went back to normal. It really helped to have Christian there holding my hand and reminding me what to do. I know this, combined with the HypnoBabies' tracks in the background kept me calm and focused.

At some point the middle of this, I was able to reach my hand down and feel the top of kiddo's head. That is the most bizarre and exciting feeling in the world. It's bizarre because, well, there's another human coming out from your vagina! It's exciting because, all that time and effort you've spent through pregnancy and in childbirth is actually leading to an end result!

Because my pushes weren't going super long (remember that low breathing ability?) kiddo stayed with part of his head sticking out for a while. Or at least, that's what I thought was going on. And then I got him crowning. And more than anything, I wanted that to be over. In my head I kept telling myself, "I can make this be over. I can finish this." So in one major effort, I did a series of pushes and then he was out and being rushed onto my chest. In about two seconds after being on my chest he started crying, he was so alert. Meanwhile I was in awe of what I had just done. The midwives were in awe of how big he was.

I had just given birth to my son on Labor Day at 7:15 pm.

Cone headed kiddo

Funnily enough, because of his head sitting at my opening for a little while, he had some really goofy molding of his skull. I mean, he actually looked like a little alien with this weird bump going on. Cindy let me know it would go away shortly (and it was basically gone by the time we got home). Thank GOD! I really didn't want to have a goofy looking kid.

They gave me some arnica for inflamation and let me be skin to skin with him for a little while. Eventually kiddo started rooting and so I put him to my breast and he latched immediately. In fact, he was such a voracious eater, he stayed like that for about 40 minutes straight (no joke). While he was sitting up on my chest, I pushed out the placenta easily. Christian stayed close to us and took a few pictures. I got a shot of pitocin in the leg to minimize bleeding.

Somehow we were able to get kiddo off the breast long enough for Christian to cut the cord. As my tissues got a little calmer and things started to clean up a bit we discovered I had some tearing. It was still hard to see how bad the tears were, but they would keep an eye on it.

Kiddo stayed alert but calm on my chest. Christian went to get some sandwiches for us. I tried to pee. This was a pretty difficult thing because the whole area down there is SUPER numb. Your sensitivity is shot. But if you don't pee, your uterus and your bladder start competing for space. The more full your bladder, the more bleeding you have. Well, after Christian returned with food and I was able to eat, I felt well enough to try the bathroom (as opposed to a bed pan or a stool with a bowl under it). While my tears stung, I was actually able to empty my bladder which helped things a lot.

Sonja went home around 8ish and Cindy and Anna stayed. They measured kiddo and gave him his vitamin K shot. This was when I found out just how big my baby was.

9 lbs, 8 oz.
21 3/4 inches
14 cm head circumference

Yeah. There was a reason why I tore.

After that they checked my tearing to assess the damage and see if they could suture it on site. Well, it was worse than they originally thought. In the end, we decided to go to the hospital to have it sutured so that I wouldn't have any issues with healing etc.

Luckily the hospital is only 4 blocks from the birth center, so it was super easy. Probably the hardest part of getting over there was dressing kiddo. He had his diaper on for about two seconds before it was soaked through to his pants. Luckily the birth center had some extra clothes, because we didn't have any (all our clothes were hanging to dry on our railing at home!). We even forgot a hat (after the ton of hats we got! I blame my prego brain!). Well finally we got into the car and headed over. Once there, Anna got a wheel chair for me and we rolled right up to L&D where Cindy had called ahead to make sure they could take care of me immediately. I got a really good surgeon who they knew well, Dr. Singer, and was in a room in minutes. The nurse checked my vitals and in a few minutes the doctor was in taking a look at my tearing - almost 3rd degree, and really close to my sphincter.

I opted for an IV fast acting narcotic along with Lidocaine to make the process as painless as possible (the doctor assured me neither of which would interfere with breastfeeding). A little while later, I was being stitched up and then it was over before I knew it. We let Anna and Cindy go home to eat and get some sleep while Christian, kiddo, and I hung out to make sure the drugs were out of my system. The nurse came back to help me use the bathroom (which I was again able to do without too much hassle). A few seconds later the doctor came by to check on me and talk to me about a few prescriptions he'd given me as well as after care of the suturing.

Not long after I was being wheeled back downstairs and to our car.

This after birth bit sounds like it wouldn't have taken very long, but it did. We didn't get home until 3 am. And then we didn't sleep very well because we still don't have a plan in place, or any idea of what our routine should be with kiddo.

And?

I don't care.

Every time I look at him, I am so happy and amazed at what I did. He is so sweet and precious. He already has a love of music and food, as well as my husband's family's snoring habit. He's even got an unusual amount of coordination for a newborn (he brings his hand to his face and mouth regularly which I guess is unusual). I can't wait to see what kind of person he will become.

Cleaning Up a Mixed Bag

My dad tells this story at "Children's Time" in worship every now and then. While I don't remember the details, I can give you the gist.

Something "bad" happens to this guy. People pity him, but the guy says, "I don't know, it could be good, it could be bad." The thing results in something "good." And the guy tells people again, "I don't know, it could be good, it could be bad." Well, this goes on for a while before my dad cuts off the story.

The moral of the story is we never know just what is "good" or "bad" by a first glance. We make assumptions and then go from there.

So we could say the flooding disaster was actually a good thing...because it forced Christian and I to do something that we'd been putting off for a while - organizing the junk under the stairs. Christian went through our electronic components and got rid of the pieces that are largely worthless at this point. I went through my bags (confession: I'm kind of a bag lady) and got rid of about half of them (set aside to donate of course).

Once these things were pared down, we put them into their own storage containers. We decided this was the best course of action because it would prevent any damage later (ahem, floods), would increase accessibility, visibility (clear containers make a difference), and will make moving a lot easier whenever that happens later.

While this was a positive result, the last few days I've been waking up with my feet already swollen. The remaining water in our apartment has made the whole place incredibly hot and humid (particularly the second floor). Needless to say I've been taking a lot of sweaty naps.

To wrap this whole lovely situation with a bow, I threw up my breakfast this morning about 3 seconds after I finished it. Don't worry - I ate the same thing I always do for breakfast during the week. Nothing was bad or weird. But of course, a baby pressing against your stomach can make you hurl (lovely alien type response) or you could be getting ready to pop a baby out (a second lovely alien type response). I'm hoping for the former.

Whatever the deal is, this week just keeps ramping up with the awesome. Sigh.

Cats and Aliens

This is Java. She's a rescue. She's 8 yrs old and been in our family for 5 years. She is super talkative. She greets us whenever we come home and likes to remind us of our routines.

She eats when we eat. She let's us know when something isn't right (a phone ringing, dish empty, litter needing changed etc). She let's us know it's time to go to bed and gets upset when we're sitting in different areas. She watches the most interesting thing in the room - whatever that might be (a person, the TV etc). Her favorite thing is to sit between us so we can both pet her.

She also likes to nap when I nap (curled up beside or on top of me). In the middle of the night she will lay down in my arms like a live version of a stuffed animal, except she's much softer, warmer, and purrs soothingly.

Reading all this it almost sounds like Java is a dog, but of course, she's not. Like other cats, she likes to sleep for extended periods of time. As such, she REALLY likes to sleep in soft cuddly places, especially those that let her hide.

I love our cat. She's been like a child substitute these past 5 years. Of course now kiddo is coming into the picture, our little alien baby, and I can't help but wonder how this will work. Java is gentle, but she likes attention. While she has lived with other cats and can do it reasonably well, kiddo is not a cat (though newborn noises and cat noises sound eerily similar).

I know from my limited experience cleaning and unwrapping baby toys that Java will like to play with kiddo's toys as much as kiddo (if not more so) though she has been told not to. She also likes to rub up against my belly and purrs like crazy even when kiddo decides to punch or kick her. It doesn't phase her at all. And while she would love to explore the cosleeper we just acquired, both Christian and I have made it clear to her, in no uncertain and very scary terms, that area is off limits. She has, without anything more than us freaking her out, stayed off the cosleeper. This bodes well.

The only thing I'm a little concerned with is at night. She likes to walk all over us, and her intact claws can be sharp (though I try to keep up with trimming them). I guess we'll just have to wait and see how it goes. As much preparation as I can do, nothing will really compare to having a live, squirming, messy alien.

Pregnancy is Stranger Than Fiction

Just to be clear - my baby is completely human. I don't actually think I've got an alien inside me. I'm not like Simon Parkes or anything. That said, truth is stranger than fiction.

I am undeniably pregnant. People do things for me now - strangers - because of the belly. My daily life and actions are completely different than before. There is no question that I'm absolutely in my third trimester. Thing is, sometimes, I still don't feel pregnant.

I think I'm a little weird.

I've gone through this half-state of being before - in pretty much every period of my life when I've had major changes. Unless there is a complete overhaul, I can't believe the thing is happening. When I say complete overhaul, I mean COMPLETE, as in living in a different country where people speak an unrelated language and the food is different and the smells are different. Another example was college. It was so drastically different (Oh cafeteria food! Yum!) there was no way my mind could play tricks on me.

Marriage, however, was a different animal. Sometimes I still (after 5 years mind!) wake up and think, "Huh. I'm married! Weird!"

Christian doesn't have this problem. He's more normal than I am.

The marriage thing felt like a more subtle change. This was probably because I was used to moving to different places and Christian being around me (we've known each other since 2002). It didn't seem so different. It was like college, or traveling, or pretending to be an adult. Getting a cat and a house started to make it more real, but sometimes it still hasn't set in (That feeling of strangeness has become more rare than before - now I think it's only bimonthly.).

So the pregnancy bit being weird makes sense. Even though my body is changing daily, and I can obviously experience the different symptoms and aspects of what it means to be pregnant, my life isn't THAT different. I still live in the same place I did a year ago with my husband and my cat. I still write all the time. I still take walks around my neighborhood and eat a lot of the same foods (okay, maybe 50% of the same foods). I still exercise (actually, I might be more consistent now). I just can't sit up using my abdominal muscles and sometimes the kiddo kicks my stomach or bladder so hard I think something will come out one way or another.

Even though pregnancy is something nearly half the world experiences, it is strange. It's not just strange because my mind can't wrap itself around the abstract unknown of a new life coming out of my body. Pregnancy is strange BECAUSE a new life is coming out of my body. My body was effectively hijacked. Every system has been diverted or shoved aside (literally!) to make this new person. I don't mind. I'm biologically programmed NOT to mind. I'll be a crazy doting mom just like the next prego lady. In the mean time though, I feel the weirdness of the whole process. It's a short period of my life, but it has drastic consequences. Most of my life I will NOT be pregnant (Thank GOD I'm not that Duggar lady!). 30 years have been spent developing myself, and now I will be responsible for helping to develop someone else - from the very beginning.

Man, that's weird.