Congratulations Father Michael

This weekend was incredibly heartwarming. My cousin Michael, or should I say Father Michael, was Ordained an Episcopalian Priest on Saturday. We have all watched him challenge his faith, dedicate his life, and grow passionately into his calling. I have immense respect for his decision to join the Priesthood and pray that one day I will have as much gumption in my own career choice. I am so proud of him from the very center of my being.

It was a marathon weekend filled with church, parties, brunch, receptions, and more church. It was the most action I have seen in a while. The Ordination was lovely and I found myself tearing up too many times to count. But I think I cried the hardest when Michael presented his mom with a dozen roses. Having a son of my own, I couldn't help brimming with pride at the thought of watching Wyatt accomplish his dreams. It was incredibly moving seeing St. John's overflowing with people that have fostered Michael's journey and have watched him grow through out his life. Auntie De threw a great party at Uncle Jackie's house that was quite unforgettable. Wyatt was a hit and behaved like an angel. Well, minus pooping through his button down shirt and onto Uncle Jackie. I had him all dressed up like a mini-man in khakis and a sweater vest. He held a captive audience while he smiled and was generally charming. With so many hands about I actually got to take a little bit of the breather and have a drink. My family was dutifully embarrassing to all visitors. Especially when singing 'Happy Birthday' to Simon every time he entered the room. I am not even sure if it really was his birthday.

When I was pregnant, I watched a young babe go up for communion with his mother. Father Simon placed a hand on the child's head and gave him a blessing. From then on I have had this odd fixation with taking Wyatt to church to get blessed. Michael's first Eucharist was on Sunday. I, of course, had to bring Wyatt despite being slightly anxious about a grunting baby in a very acoustic church. Wyatt slept through the entire service with mild cooing. I brought Wyatt up with me during communion and Michael placed his newly blessed hands upon him. I am such a sap. I started crying. Something about seeing Mike bless my son made me feel so loved. Made me remember how loved Wyatt is and how lucky he is to have so many people support him. I thought it was a fitting end to Michael's Ordination weekend.

Welcome to the Jungle

I am very concerned about Wyatt's emotional and physical development. I read obsessively about what milestones he should encounter each week. I understand that each child develops differently but if the book says he should be able to lift his head at a 45 degree angle, I want him to be able to. Hell, if the books says 45 degrees I want him at 65 degrees. The only thing that I don't put too much stock in is routine. My mothering style is on-demand. If he is hungry at 3, he gets fed at 3:05, regardless if the last time he ate was at 2:30. Light bulb: maybe that is why he is 12lbs. At this age, I don't think you can spoil a child. All they know are basic needs and if they are being met. I will damn well be there to meet them.

I came from a place where babies didn't exist which is why my research is so important to me. Before Wyatt, babies were not included in my conscience thought. I don't know when they are suppose to roll over, or when to introduce solid food, or what to dress them in when its cold. (Example: this picture was taken on 2/15, he's 6 days old. I thought he didn't need to wear pants because he didn't at the hospital. It was my first day dressing him by myself. Duh, Kate, its February and he's probably got cold legs. By the way, I adore the way his feet are touching. He does that in the bath sometimes. But I digress.) I rely on reading, doctors, and family to keep me informed of what I should be doing to help him along. So far, he's perfect and I need to keep reading. He's smiling, vocalizing, lifting his head, tracking objects, loving his hands, and following the sound of my voice. To name a few. He's a genius. I am positive of it.

I had no idea about tummy time. Evidently, to foster greater neck control, Monkey is suppose to spend some awake time on his stomach. My mom asked one day "So how's he doing with tummy time?" Ah, what?! So, now we have tummy time twice a day!! He is doing really well. We both lay on the floor and do mini-push ups together. Anyway, I got this activity mat at our shower (pictured, obviously not Wyatt) and decided it was time to introduce them. All the toys are detachable and make noise. I think its the coolest thing since sliced bread. Wyatt hung out in there for a hot 3 minutes before refocusing on me and puking on the mat. He might still be too young. I keep on trying to put him back in the jungle but he generally looks right past everything like if he ignores the giraffe it doesn't exist. Every once and a while he will kick or hit a toy and it will make noise but for the most part he is wholly uninterested. He would rather be looking at faces, totally because mine is so entertaining. I have decided to introduce him to the jungle slowly. We are working on one toy a day and hopefully when it gets assembled it won't be overwhelming. Today is the blue elephant sitting on the barrel rattle. Tomorrow the toucan with the colorful, crinkly beak. He is going to love this jungle just give him time.

The Great Outdoors

I have been home on maternity leave for a little over six weeks now. The time is really flying by. For the first month, I was home bound unless I had a willing participant to take me out because I was not allowed to drive. Terry took me out to eat a few times when he was home. It was my first time out of the house in a while and I was doubtful of my social skills but it was very lovely. I felt like a human again and our outing actually gave me motivation to try on my jeans. Much to peoples dismay and my great pleasure they fit. It felt so amazing to be in jeans with a zipper again after four months of elastic waistbands.

I have been walking a lot lately. I bundle Monkey Boy up to get some vitamin D and walk around the block, or to the store with Rebecca, or to the deli with Mom. Becca, Lizzy, and I took him out for his first walk to the library to visit Terry's Mom. We got about half way there and it started snowing. It was 40 degrees out. I was so confused and felt like a terrible mother for bringing my newborn out in the snow. We hid out in the library until it stopped, Grams definitely didn't mind. Lizzy and two of her friends took him the other day all by themselves. I would have been nervous but I know that Wyatt passes out as soon as you start walking.

I am not as mobile as my former self, nor will I ever be, but it has been amazing getting out of the house. I love taking Wyatt in public and having people ogle him and tell me how beautifully handsome he is. I will never get tired of hearing how perfect he is. Overnight, my car has gone from sporty SUV to mom mobile complete with car seat, jungle themed window shades, and a car organizer for diapers and sippy cups. It still amazes me how long it takes me to get out of the house. It takes me about 30 minutes to get ready then I have to get him ready and feed him which is about another hour. Inevitably, he will spit up all over both of us and the process starts all over again.

I went couch shopping the other day. I was almost to the store when he started freaking out crying in the car. I pulled over, almost getting into an accident, jumped frazzled into the backseat to see what was wrong. I got him out of his car seat and he puked all over my shirt. I went to Macy's anyway, smelling like curdled breast milk. Let me tell you, it is hard to haggle prices when you have baby spit up on your shirt. I barely took myself seriously. But with a baby as cute as Wyatt of course I got my discount. I am definitely not afraid to use him as a bargaining chip.

Daycare Update

After freaking out about schlepping back off to work, I decided to take some deep breaths and see what I could do to fix the problem. I immediately packed up Wyatt, went to Mom's shop so that she could talk me off the edge, and started brainstorming. Here is the new plan:

Rebecca is finishing her temp job on April 24th. She has a subletter for her apartment for the summer and was planning on moving home temporarily to figure out her next step. She doesn't have a job lined up quite yet. I am sure you can see where this is going. I called work back and struck up a deal with them for my first day back to be on April 28th. Rebecca is going to be my nanny and I am going to pay her what I would have been paying for daycare!!!

I can't even begin to express how relieved, happy, and generally overjoyed I am with this new plan. Rebecca is amazing with Wyatt. She is immeasurably helpful and I totally trust her completely. She has made this whole single mom scenario seem very easy. There is no one I would rather have watching my child. She is as close to me as you can get. I feel much better about going back to work, although still unmotivated, but at least contented to know that he is in the best hands. Plus, I don't have to feel embarrassed about calling twelve times a day which we all know I will. But knowing Rebecca she will have picture messages updating me hourly. Finally, I feel like I can breathe a little bit.

Happy Baby Time

For about a week or so, Wyatt has been giving us full on smiles. I have to work for it but it is the cutest thing I have ever seen. I tried to capture them but as soon as I break out the camera he focuses more on that, then me, and the smile face turns into a furrowed brow 'what the hell is that' face. But finally on Easter Sunday I got it. Hope you enjoy!

Magic Boobs

I feel that there is a lot of pressure for new moms to breast feed but not enough resources to facilitate doing so. When I was at the hospital a nurse watched him latch on once, said we were doing fine, and offered no further advice. My Mom and copious reading offered the most help to me. Although all the reading material in the world can't describe what the correct latch feels like. I did attend a few classes while I was pregnant but I forgot almost everything that I learned. I didn't think it would be very difficult but ultimately questions do come up. Is he getting enough? Is is suppose to feel like this? What is let down? Is he latched on correctly? Am I producing too much or too little? What am I eating that is making him fart so much?

I am ecstatic that I only had a few set backs. I am enjoying breast feeding. I really wanted to breast feed because of all the amazingly positive research. 400 additional nutrients, kids proven to have higher IQ's, the bonding, reduced rate of obesity, and the convenience. I mean seriously why wouldn't I. However, I know that sometimes it just doesn't work out, for whatever reasons. I would have felt like I failed him in some way. That maybe I didn't try hard enough. That I wasn't capable of providing the absolute best for him. I am so grateful that we both caught on, in fact, it is going so well he is beefing up like he is on steroids. He has gained 3 pounds and grew 3 inches since birth, with absolutely no formula supplementation. Can you believe that? I have a whole bunch of clothing to give away already.

My family always joked that instead of working for Habitat that I should go to Africa and breast feed babies. I am seriously thinking about it. I don't know how it happened but I am producing more milk then I thought was humanly possible. I am going to quit my job and sell milk on the black market. I could make a living off of it. Laugh all you want but seriously sometimes I have to wake Wyatt up because my nipples are about to shoot across the room I am so full. You think I am kidding but almost every time we nurse I shoot milk like a water fountain all over his face. Sometimes I get it on his forehead, sometimes his nose, the couch, the floor, nothing is safe. I have no control. If I pump, it takes about 10 minutes to get 4 oz. No wonder why he is gaining so much weight. I am telling you I have a career in breast milk. I have magic boobs providing for Wyatt and all of Africa!!

Reality Check

I am straight up tripping. I phoned my job today and they want me back on April 14th. I know it's another three weeks away but I am freaking out. I am not ready to leave him for five days a week, to go back to work. I am not ready to think about daycare and getting updates on what my child did during the day. I don't want to be told he smiled, I want to see it. I feel like my stomach has turned into this black hole of dread that will get increasingly bigger as the 14th draws closer. Breathe, Kate, breathe.

I am wholly unmotivated to go back to work. Spending my days with him seems exponentially more important than what I do at work. Unfortunately, I cannot afford financially to quit my job. Welcome to single motherhood. If I was going back to a job that I was passionate about maybe I would feel more confident about leaving him. A job that challenged me and allowed me to have more responsibility. A job that I could see reasons why I should leave him other than money. My job doesn't do that. I feel like a drone, not a contributing member of society.

Then there is the guilt factor. I want to be able to be available for Wyatt emotionally, physically, and developmentally. I want to be the one that caters to his needs, makes his feel safe and cared for. I want to be the one that cradles him when he cries, that feeds him, and hears his first words. I don't want to feel like I have to play catch up to get to know him at night. I don't want him to turn to others for comfort. Two full days on the weekend is not enough for me. I always knew I was going to have to go back to work but was so emotionally unprepared to how having a baby would effect my state of mind. I just have to breathe.

Mother Child Reunion

I left him. I actually left him for three full days. I had a training for a new part-time endeavor of mine and had to leave Wyatt at home on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday from 8:30-4:30. When first asked to participate in the training, I jumped at the new opportunity with pre-Wyatt spontaneity but failed to realize the logistics and emotional complications. The training was in NJ and I wanted to be with him at night to nurse, so the solution was to bring Wyatt to Rebecca's in Astoria.

It took me all day Thursday to get myself ready. There were bottles, breast pumps, and leakage pads. Boobs still produce regardless of where the baby is. Boxes with diapers, wipes, creams, and waterproof pads. It took my Mom all day Friday to get Wyatt ready for the trip. She packed literally three weeks worth of clothing (he tends to go through an average of four outfits a day), bibs, burp clothes, receiving blankets, and socks. Then there was the Pack n' Play, car seat, vibrating chair, and stroller. He is quite a little man but definitely doesn't pack light. Rebecca's apartment was converted into a temporary daycare with baby paraphernalia in every corner. The time, effort, and sheer man-power that went into this excursion is mind blowing.

On Friday, I was a mess. I woke up at 4:30 in the morning just to gaze into his sleepy little face for a good half hour. Was slightly teary eyed while I nursed him and had to run out of the house to force myself to go. I made it to the car and was in the town over before I was bawling uncontrollably. I was that crazy person talking to myself in the car, crying, convincing myself to keep on driving. I have NO IDEA how Terry said goodbye to him for 6 months, my sympathy is unending. I missed Wyatt every second I was gone and it never got easier to leave in the morning. I feel that this is somewhat of a right of passage for new mothers. It had to happen eventually and it was marginally easier leaving him with Mom and Rebecca, people that I trust implicitly.

Overall, the training was a success and I had a great time. Wyatt was a champ, was well behaved for his other mothers, and dutifully gave me huge toothless grins upon my arrival home. I was surprisingly articulate, composed full sentences, contained my over flowing breasts, and did not cry in front of anyone. I am coming to realize that my days of jump up and go are far behind me and yet I am surprisingly OK with that. Thank God it is Monday tomorrow and I get 6 hours of uninterrupted Wyatt. I need to make up for lost time and continue working on getting him to say 'Mama'.

Ouchie

Wyatt got his first shot yesterday. I swear it was more nerve wracking for me than for him. He didn't know it was coming. I couldn't even look. It took all of three seconds and he cried harder than I have ever heard before but calmed down as soon as I picked him up. Mommy can always make everything better.

I know that his vaccinations are what is best for him but it is very difficult for me to see him hurt. Especially voluntarily hurt. I understand that there will be times that he is in pain. He will fall down. He will launch himself out of his vibrating seat to grasp at something colorful. I will drop him when he flings his weight backwards and I have my hands full. He will bump his head at some point. I am emotionally trying to prepare myself for the eventuality of his first tumble already. Believing that if I prepare now I won't be as traumatized later. I doubt it. I believe no matter how old your child is it will always be hard to see them get hurt, physically or emotionally.

I found his circumcision particularly traumatizing for me. I locked myself in the bathroom at the hospital and was crying on the toilet seat after they took him. I know he won't remember and now that it is done its not even a blip on my radar. But at the time, it was awful. Knowing that I elected for him to get an essentially cosmetic procedure done two days after birth ripped my heart out. Not to mention, the hospital did a particularly bad job at the execution. The execution of preparing me, not the actually procedure, that went fine.

They told me it was going to be done in the morning and that I shouldn't feed him. Then by about 1p.m with him ravenous they told me it was not going to be done until the next day. Ahh, relief, for a hot minute. Then out of nowhere, I was talking to Terry on the phone about name possibilities and they came and wheeled him away. I didn't even get to say goodbye. Dramatic, yes, but it honestly upset me. I hung up on Terry (literally), signed some forms quickly before I started crying, and hid in the bathroom. I heard his box being wheeled back down the hall about 30 minutes later. He was fine, not crying, and slept for the rest of the day.

I guess I am learning a woe of parenting. There will be times when for the good of the child, I will have to cause pain. Hopefully, it won't be often because I don't think I can handle it. A vaccine is one of many examples. I am sure there will be times when I spare him hurtful information just to have it come bite me in the ass later. Or he will be upset because I won't let him have a sleepover. Or can't buy him 12 toys at Toys R Us. All I know is that I cannot stand to hear him cry. Every time he does I come running. I will do anything to get him to stop. I am a nurturer. Call him spoiled, I don't care. I want him to have all his needs met all the time.

Milestones...

Happy One Month Birthday Wyatt!!!

And Happy Birthday Terry!!

My little man is growing up so fast. I can't believe how much he has changed already. I hate to say this and I mean it the nicest way possible but he is really becoming a human instead of a little blob.

His facial expressions are amazing to watch. Most of my days consist of staring at him and his many faces (see: the bottom left, Wyatt in a pose we like to call 'The Whistler'). I am becoming a master at singing songs, making funny faces, and being generally ridiculous. He is going to smile at me, any day now. I am convinced. He smiles all the time but I don't think that he realizes what his is doing quite yet. Most of the time he just looks at me like I am crazy (see: picture on the top left). When he does smile his entire face lights up. Sometimes when he is sleeping he will let out a big belly laugh. It is the most incredible sound, deep, guttural, and simply angelic. I wait for it all day, everyday. I always wonder what he thinks is so funny. Probably that crazy lady with the 24 hour all you can eat buffet that makes weird faces.

Purple = Angry

First I have to apologize for the uncouth tangent my blog has taken as of late. My whole world has morphed into this land of spit up, poop, and all sorts of other bodily functions (mine and his). It is all I can focus on. I try to use my words but I still end up muttering crap, penis, or projectile vomiting. My main concerns in life have changed from happy hours to how many times has Wyatt peed today. Its very disconcerting. But bare with me it should get better and more interesting.

If I thought I was a hypochondriac when I was pregnant it is nothing compared to how I am now. Everyone laughs that Wyatt is going to be a Google baby. No joke, I Google some symptom that he is having everyday. From nail trimming, to baby acne, to excessive grunting, to startle reflexes. I have two baby books on the first year and I look at them constantly. They live on my nightstand so I can refer to them in the middle of the night. As if that isn't enough, I spent a good hour in Borders sitting in the baby aisle reading while Mrs. T was with Wyatt. I honestly have no clue what to expect and nothing is normal for me.

Mom believes that you can read poop like a mood ring. She thinks that you can diagnosis symptoms by poop color and consistency. Now, I understand diagnosing constipation but she thinks you can do anything. Oh, its green that means he is content but gassy. Seedy means he likes sleeping on his left side. I kid you not. I believe whole heartily in my mothers parenting and doctoral skills but for this I am going to rely on my books, Google, and my pediatrician. I think my sources are a little more concrete than mood poop.

Things You Mom Didn't tell You - Part 4

Episiotomies are not fun. It couldn't possibly be pleasant because I have had stitches before but I never imagined how uncomfortable it would be. I was sucking down Motrin every four hours. My Dr. wanted to prescribe me a percocet but I couldn't take them because I was breastfeeding. Sitting, standing, or really any movement at all was traumatizing for a good week. Everyone wanted to know if I asked how many stitches I got. Hell no. I don't want to know. Maybe I will ask after she is all healed up but in the mean time I am going hang tight. There are some things that should remain a mystery.

Hemorrhoids really suck. Until three weeks ago, I had no idea what a hemorrhoid was. The day I gave birth, I was chillin' in my hospital bed and my butt really hurt. I kept on telling my Mom and she kept on correcting me, she doubted that it was my butt that was causing me trouble. I assumed it was my episiotomy that was hurting but for some reason it felt like my butt. A nurse came in to check me and casually mentioned that she would give me some cream and a butt pillow for my huge hemorrhoids. What?! No wonder I couldn't sit down. I guess while pushing out a baby I happened to push out some other things as well. I hope to never have to experience that again. Word to the wise - always say yes to the butt pillow.

Continuing on with the butt theme, a taboo topic in our house was if I would poop on the table. Yes, my sisters were taking bets on my bowel movements in hopes for ultimate humiliation. It does make sense that it would happen. I mean with all of that pushing, its understandable. I refused to think about it. Whatever was going to happen in the delivery room I trusted would stay in the delivery room. (The picture that Lizzy took of my placenta did not stay in the delivery room. Lizzy and I had words over that.) When it did come time, I totally forget about pooping. Lizzy didn't and asked the doctor. Turns out, I didn't. Three cheers for a poopless delivery.