Telling stories

Today was a bad day.

Sally was up all night, still struggling with a bad cold and probably some teeth.  When Walter and Sean woke us up at 8 I was sure it was 6 or earlier. Sally woke up sad, sad, sad. She was sad while I nursed her, sad while I changed her diaper, sad while I took off her pajamas, and sad while I got her dressed. We were running so late that Sean had to take Walter in to daycare first so he wouldn't completely miss breakfast and then double back for Sally, which made Sean very late for work. I felt awful sending Sally to daycare so sick and sad. It took several tries to hand her over to Sean before she stopped clinging to and reaching for me.  I decided to go get her from daycare and then take her to work with me.  That decision meant I was running late all day, messing up both her schedule and mine for largely my own selfish reasons.  It meant that she didn't get a good nap on day when she really needed one to help with her recovery. She came with me to lunch with my colleagues and made a mess of the floor so bad I tipped 80%. I did not, however, clean up the mess. I took Sally back to daycare, further messing with her routine. Getting her in and out of her carseat was especially difficult today--lots of back-arching, screaming, and crying of real, heartfelt tears. She reached for me, with pleading eyes, begging me to take me out and nurse her, and I just persisted and insisted and made her sit in the seat, because we were running late. I was also late picking the kids up from daycare at the end of the day.  When we got home, Sally woke up very sad again, and had trouble eating because she was so phlegmy. Then I tried to give her some Advil to bring down her fever.  She cried herself into a terrible state but I persisted ... and then she retched and threw up a huge amount of phlegm and Advil (but we couldn't give her more before putting her to bed, because we don't know how much she actually ingested.) We got her out of her clothes and into the shower with me, and she was sad for most of the shower. She bit Sean once and me twice: hard.  She also decided that running toward our open and un-gate-able stairway was a great game, and alternated it with her other favorite game of putting her hands in Hank's water dish. While Sean and I took care of Sally, Walter was by himself in the kitchen, watching an endless stream of Curious George. He watched a lot of videos tonight and did almost no playing, and I had hardly any time with him at all. Perhaps because of that, Walter resisted bedtime mightily and is still awake as I write this at 9:45. He shows absolutely no sign of letting up and going to bed. Hank the Dog is worrying that we'll never be able to take him out.  I can hear Sally coughing over the monitor and I know it's just a matter of time before she wakes up and we have another night full of coughing, spitting up, rocking and crying.  And here I am ... not doing anything to catch up on all the work I need to do.

Today was a good day.

Sally slept in her crib all night for the first time in days.  It wasn't uninterrupted sleep, but it was better sleep for both of us than we have been getting lately. I slept quite well on the comfy bed in her room, and was glad I could open my eyes now and then to reassure myself she was OK. Walter and Sean let us sleep in until 8 am and woke us up by singing so sweetly together "Good morning! Good morning! Let's start our favorite way. Good morning! Good morning! And how are you today?"  Even when Sally is sick and sad, hearing her brother sing that song makes her smile. Sean took Walter in first so I could have some more time to get Sally ready.  It took a few tries, but eventually we asked Sally if she was ready to go to school and she told us she was by smiling and reaching for Sean to take her from me. She brightened up and I could tell she's on the mend. I asked a member of my congregation if it would be nice for me to bring Sally to visit her mom who is on hospice care, and who may be in her last days. She said that would be wonderful, so I picked Sally up from daycare and took her to visit S. S. has always loved getting visits from my kids, and it was fun to remember how Walter ran around her apartment when he was first learning to walk, and how Sally fell asleep on her shoulder when she was just 2 months old.  S. was delighted to see Sally and Sally was delighted to see S. Sally held her hand, smiled at her and talked to her in sweet baby language. Sally played with S.'s caregivers and was incredibly happy and sweet. She was sweet during lunch, too, and seemed to genuinely enjoy having some extra time with me during the day. She made my day, and the days of everyone else she encountered, a great deal brighter. When I took her back to daycare, she seemed glad to be there, too.  I found out when I picked her up that she spent some of the afternoon in room 3, where the slightly older kids fell over themselves to make her feel welcome: bringing her their favorite toys to play with, showing her how to sit in the big kid chairs.  When I picked the kids up, one of the slightly older girls helped me get her in her carseat: carefully pulling apart the straps and patting the chair gently to show Sally it was ready for her to sit down. Walter was wonderfully helpful, too, and seemed like he'd also had a great day.  He spent the whole day in dry underwear, using the potty and had no accidents.  On the way home, Sally fell asleep, so we brought her into the house in her chair so she could stay sleeping for a bit, and Walter and I had some good time just the two of us, playing his ukulele. I'd seen a neat cover of one of his favorite Peter Gabriel songs on facebook, and without telling him what I was doing I decided to show him the video. As I brought it up on my phone I whistled just a few bars of it. "Mama! That's 'Don't Give Up'! We heard that yesterday." So smart.  And also, how great is it that he can identify tunes that well and yet still refers to all times in the past as "yesterday"? He spent the rest of the evening singing the song, which is beautiful to begin with and extra beautiful when Walter sings it. When Sally threw up, I got in the shower with her and she was able to get out about a week's worth of phlegm in a relatively pleasant way.  She was still sad, though, and that's when I remembered ... my parents had left a birthday gift for her in the guest room, and said, "Give it to her when she needs a present." This was clearly the moment. I opened the card and showed her the photo of her with Umma and Baba, which they'd put in a magnetic frame. She was overjoyed, and actually clearly said, "Umma!" and a second later, "Baba!"  She gave the photo kisses and smiled and smiled. Then we opened the present: a soft baby doll with a ladybug on her outfit. Sally gave her kisses, too, and beeped her nose.  She played with the doll while we took care of her way-too-long fingernails. When we were done she grabbed the photo and the doll and headed toward the stairs to look for Umma and Baba. We redirected her, and she decided to get in her carseat, instead, so we could take her to Umma and Baba.  She sat in the seat and kissed the photo and the doll, smiling and laughing.  She ran over to Walter and proudly showed him the photo, and then ran over to Hank and showed him, too.  She put the photo on the fridge, giddy with delight. Walter and Sally brushed their teeth together and then went into Walter's room for stories.  I'm usually getting Sally to bed while Sean reads to Walter, so this was a treat for me: Walter sat on my lap while I read Go, Dog, Go to him and he amazed me with his knowledge of opposites and prepositions. I also got to read him the Sleepy Bear book I used to read to him before Sally was born, and he snuggled in very close and did all the interactive parts with me. Then I helped Sally get to sleep.  She was still feeling better than she has been lately and pretty wired. We nursed, and then I rocked with her and sang her lullaby. She reached for her windchime and was so happy when I lifted her up to start it chiming. She fell very fast asleep in my arms, and even though she's coughed a few times, she hasn't woken up yet.  I went into Walter's room where he was watching the original video for "Don't Give Up" with Sean.  I got a wonderful goodnight kiss and hug from him. He asks us to pick him up when we hug him, and so we get to hold him extra close as we do, and marvel at his long legs and strong arms. He gives sweet kisses, leaning in and closing his eyes. "A hug," he says.  "Can you pick me up? Now, a kiss." He cried as we left his room and tried several stalling techniques.  He left his room at one point and came upstairs; we let him sit in bed with us for 15 minutes, snuggling in between us while I worked on this post and Sean watched Rick Steves' Europe. I transcribed some of Walter's patter as I typed. He talked a little bit about his imaginary friend, Bobby. "Bobby and I write sometimes at work. I told you that yesterday! We watch TV sometimes, too. But Bobby doesn't like TV. Hmmmm.  Um, Mama? (Sigh) Sometimes I work at my work. (To the TV.) They are making pasta. They are on a boat, Mama. I love you, Mama.(snuggle.)" When Sean took him downstairs Walter cried and knocked his chair over a few times, but eventually went to sleep, much to the relief (literally) of Hank the Dog.  I'd gotten the idea for this post while I nursed Sally, and it feels wonderful to take the time to write something I don't have to write.

Take me to the people in this picture!

Like most little kids, I had a tenuous grasp on the difference between fact and fiction.  It's fun to see that in Walter, now, as his imagination develops along with his language skills. I blurred the lines between truth and invention well into fifth grade, when one of my best friends, R., called me on it. She didn't call me a liar, though. She said, "Oh, Annie. You're telling stories again.  You're always telling stories." It took me some time to figure out if she meant that as a good thing or a bad thing.  I decided it was a bad thing, at least in the way I'd been doing it.  I worked hard to direct and contain my storytelling toward fiction writing and other intentionally creative pursuits, and learned, in all other contexts, to tell the truth, even when it was uncomfortable or boring to do that.

Like most adults, though, I know now that truth itself is pretty subjective, and the stories we tell (and don't tell, and the way we tell them) shape and construct our reality.  Depending on how I tell it, today was either bad (relatively) or good (relatively).  The truth is that it was something that can't be captured that easily, not even in this post (possibly one of the longest and most tediously detailed I've ever written.)

This past weekend we went to a bluegrass festival, and a woman a little older than my parents engaged us in conversation.  Her name was Suze and she was wearing head-to-toe tie dye and hippie-style headbands that looked pretty authentic.  She complimented us on our parenting and also gave quite a lot of parenting advice.  Then, as Sean chased after Walter, she leaned in close to me and started telling me stories about my kids and their futures.

"What's your little girl's name?" She asked. "Sally! Sally will make a lot of money. She may have a few divorces, too. She'll dress in red and black, with some white accents. And gold jewelry ...just gold, she shouldn't waste her time with silver. Walter, if he doesn't find the right woman ... I'm assuming he's hetero ... I see him with a good dog, like a labrador, as his companion. Walter will always be steady for you. Sally will be your challenge, but she'll be successful." Then she giggled.  "I hope I'm right!" I told her, based on what I know of my children so far, that she might be.  Later on she introduced me and Sally to her husband, who was pleased because he has a sister named Sally; she's a dentist living in the Twin Cities (I didn't ask if she'd had a few divorces, too.)  Suze asked what Sally's middle name is.  "Joan?!  Ohhhh ... she'll have an interesting and successful life!"

Adults who tell stories like this intrigue me.  I wonder about their powers of observation and intuition, and the way they notice so much more than most of us do.  For example, most of the people at the festival assumed Sally was a boy, because she was dressed all in blue boy's clothes that day.  Suze listened to us talking and paid attention enough to know that she's a girl.  Most people don't do that. 

But the real gift Suze gave me was reminding me that my kids have their own stories. Right now, I'm constructing their narratives, and I have a pretty great amount of control over what they'll remember and what they'll know of themselves at this point in their lives. But that's not always going to be the case, and that's a good and scary thing. Someday, Sally might read this post and Suze's story and think, "Well, everything else she predicted is true ... I guess my first couple of marriages are doomed to fail." Or she might think, "That's ridiculous. That hippie lady can't tell me what to do." (I think the latter is more likely, based on Sally's personality at one year old.) Either way, God and Sally are at work on her story, and my role in writing it will be greatly diminished as time goes on. Likewise, I really hope Walter finds the right woman (or man ... I make no assumptions) even though canine companions are wonderful, and labradors especially so. But I don't get to decide that, either.  

That's not my story to tell. 

In the meantime, though, I'm going to keep telling stories.  At some point, Walter and Sally will combine my narrative with their own narratives and come up with something new.  

It should be pretty good.  They come from a family of storytellers, after all.

Baby Sally Q&A, Six Month Edition

Sally started the morning of her six month birthday at six am with breast milk breakfast, followed by an enormous burp, followed by projectile vomit over my shoulder and all over my bed.  She's a little congested, and when that happens she spits up a lot with very little provocation (burps, sneezes, meaningful eye contact ... all of these can be catalysts for spew.)  Sean got out of bed and took her over to the changing table while I stripped off the sheets. As he picked her up, Sally looked at me, smiled, and gave a cheerful little "Good morning" coo.

Hand me that toy, please? Thanks!

We went down to the guest room in the basement so we could play without waking up Walter. She sat up on her own for quite a long time playing with the stacking rings (and then hurled herself to the ground so she could play at her leisure while lying down.)  She's very good at rolling from belly to back, but can't really get from back to belly. She rolls onto her side, reaches, looks up at Mama, looks at the object she wants to reach, coos and smiles, looks back at Mama, another winning smile and voila! The object of desire is suddenly in her hands. So, core strength needs working on, but communication is stellar, and Mama is very well-trained.

As we played, I thought about this blog post and how impossible it is to keep up with family documentation the way I'd like to.  I know it's baseline impossible to convey through words, pictures, videos, or anything the essence of Sally Joan at six months old.  This incredibly persistent, intense, loving, cheerful, serious, strong little girl can't be contained by anything, much less my feeble attempts at regular blogging.

But I remember, vividly, what it felt like to find the binder of letters that my mom wrote to friends and family as I was growing up.  There were stories, there were funny quotes, there were glimpses of what I was like beyond the (many) pictures and (endless hours of) home video.  More important than the content itself, though, was the feeling it gave me, like I'd discovered a shoebox full of old love letters ... to me. I think of this blog very much as love letters to my kids, and I hope they'll find them someday (better think about backing up with a print version, soon) and be delighted, like I was.

For Sally's 5 month birthday update, I was going to remake Walter's 5 month update using side-by-side comparison photos.  I staged photos carefully in the same locations, tried to get the same angles, etc.  This is why there was no 5 month birthday update post.

So, that structure was too complicated.  Also, setting up a comparison like that sets bad precedent. Walter and Sally are their own people.

It was Walter who gave me the idea for the structure I'm going to use.  Walter is quite pleased with his little sister these days, especially because she is so clearly over-the-moon for him.  Sally doesn't laugh easily, but Walter makes her completely crack up at least once a day.  Still, Walter had just gotten used to Sally as being small, fragile, and somewhat lump-like.  Now, she is bigger, stronger, and she likes to grab and pull his hair.  So, this worries him a little.  When Walter is worried, he talks it out and he asks us questions. Like ...

Baby Sally has no teeth?

No teeth! Hooray!

It's true, Baby Sally still has no teeth. This is a relief to both Walter and Mama (more profoundly: Mama.) At this age, Walter had 4 razor sharp teeth, two on top and two on bottom.  Babies this age don't need teeth. Sadly, I think Sally's first two (in front, on bottom) are on their way in.  Lots of drooling, lots of gumming on everything in sight and a goopy nose are all current signs and symptoms.  Doesn't mean the teeth are imminent, but they could be.  When Sally reaches for Walter's food (all the time, these days) Walter says in his best authoritative big brother voice, "No, baby Sally!  You. Have. No. Teeth!"

Baby Sally eats Mama milk?
Mama milk is indeed Sally's main source of nutrition.  She's also a little better these days about taking bottles of expressed breast milk at day care, though she'll still go most days with just 5 ounces or so during the day.  She nurses a lot in the evening and at night and does well unless she's congested.  This week we introduced her to rice cereal and, later, applesauce. No big, funny reactions: just a little grimace and then a reach for more. She's quite good at eating, I think, and excited less by the taste and more by the experience.

Mama also says "Ahhh!" when Walter asks!

The best is when Walter feeds her. He does a beautiful job with it (very careful not to get too much on the spoon, to give it to her gently, etc.) and when he says, "Say Ahhhhhh!" she opens her mouth right up.  Dr. L. says we can go ahead and introduce her to any pureed grains, fruits and veggies she's interested in this month.  Break out the food processor!

Baby Sally can't talk?
Not like Walter can talk, certainly, but she's very vocal.  She's started in on the "da da da" syllable with some fun variations that sound quite a lot like "Daddy." Sean is pleased. Her best noise is a throaty gargle/growl that Sean and Walter actually can't do at all but has always been one of my go-to funny noises.  I think she learned it in utero.  Sally is a great communicator, as I mentioned above.  We haven't been doing baby sign with her but I think we're going to try now that she's eating ("more," "all done" etc.) and sitting where she can see our hands and use her hands more often. We'll enlist Walter's help. In addition to babbling, growling and cooing, Sally also loves to sing.  During music class, or when we're singing with her at home, she makes very melodic noises that are clearly not talking or anything else ... she's singing along.  It's wonderful!

Baby Sally can't walk?

"Where are you trying to go, Sally?"

Sally wants to crawl very badly, and gets frustrated sometimes that she can't. She manages a pretty good belly crawl but often ends up going backwards.  She can travel rather alarming distances in the amount of time it takes for her parents to refocus after getting distracted while watching her.  She's not very good at sitting up on her own because she's not very good at sitting still.  She's very strong and squirmy and difficult to hold at times. That said, she's not crazy in love with the exersaucer, so we end up holding her pretty often.  She wants to be right in the middle of things, with us. She just also wants to arch her back and squirm out of our arms. Her hand/eye coordination is excellent--when she grabs for something, she usually gets it on the first try, much to our horror. (Ahhh! Not the steak knife, Baby Sally!)

Baby Sally is little?

OK ... just ONE side-by-side comparison ...

They look almost the same size in the side-by-side above, but Sally's actually much smaller than Walter was at this age. She almost two inches shorter than he was at his 6 month check up, and he weighed 22 lbs while she weighs 15 lbs.  Walter moved up to 18 month size clothes at 6 months; Sally's fitting well into 9 month size clothes. So, she seems little to us, but she's really about average according to the charts. Just slightly below average for height and weight, well above-average for head circumference.  Like Walter, she's well-proportioned and consistently on the same curve she's been on since birth.  She's had a couple nice growth spurts and seems to be in another one, now.  An average-size baby has advantages, including less back and arm fatigue for her handlers. She's still our little bug, but she's definitely getting bigger! And I'm dressing her in real clothes more often, too.  She likes that. Dr. L says she's growing wonderfully and "lights up the room" with her smile.  He's very pleased with Sally and Walter and with us as parents, which is always so good to hear. He says, "You're lucky: you got two good kids. And you're doing a great job with them."  We are fond of Dr. L.

Baby Sally sleeps in Mama's bed?
The sleeping arrangements in our house are a little rough and hopefully temporary, though we've been saying that for awhile now. Sally's still upstairs with me and Sean--her room isn't ready for her, yet.  Needs painting, decorating, and general ready-ing. When she grew out of her bassinet, Sally kicked Sean out of our bed and started sleeping with me.  We moved her pack-in-play upstairs, and now that she has more room to stretch out and scoot around (she likes sleeping sideways) she's sleeping better and spending less time in bed with me.  But there are lots of signs pointing to the need for her to be in her own room, not the least of which is that Walter now refers to the couch in the living room as "Dada's bed."

I do love a teepin' baby.

Baby Sally is awake?
Sally sleeps well at night sometimes; other times, she does not.  But she's definitely awake and alert for long stretches of day time hours, which is very fun.

Baby Sally is very, very sad?
Sally is pretty intense. When she's sad, she's often very very sad.  She's not really colicky anymore (crying for no apparent reason) but she does sometimes cry inconsolably right before she falls asleep.  Most of the time, though, she's in a pretty good mood. Even when she's not feeling well, she's curious about the world and interested in seeing new things (and putting them in her mouth) and has a generally cheerful, serious, industrious disposition.

Pic of Sally reading on a poster at daycare

Baby Sally is in Room One?
At daycare, Sally is still in the first room, the littlest baby room.  She won't move up to Room 2 until she gets more mobile, but she's definitely on her way.  It'll be hard, I think, for her to leave her teachers in Room 1, even though I know from Walter's experience that the teachers in Room 2 are amazing as well.  Ms. M and Ms. S. have worked so diligently and lovingly with her to make her comfortable and happy and teach her how to use a bottle.  Sally is my attached-at-the-hip baby and doesn't tolerate being away from Mama for very long, but she's truly happy at daycare. That is a good and beautiful thing.  

Baby Sally is my sister? She's ours?
Behind all of Walter's questions is this question, I think: Now that she's getting older, is Baby Sally still our baby? She is. She's definitely still a baby, though her body and her skills are growing every day, moving her so quickly (too quickly, for us!) into the next phase and the next. We know that such growth brings regression (in her and in the rest of us!) it brings nostalgia, it brings new worries. And such growth brings new joys, too! What I keep telling Walter, and myself, is this: Sally will always be ours, even when she's not a baby anymore. She will change, but she will always be herself.  And we will always love her, just for being Sally.                                      

"She can rest on me, Mama!"

"Baby Sally Here!"

So, here I am again, one week later, all cozied up in my bed in the living room, blogging. Here's the big difference:

Sally on the outside!

Sally's snuggled in on her favorite spot, all balled up right in the middle of my chest.  After we nurse, I put her on my shoulder to burp her, and she usually falls asleep.  As she does, though, she squirms her way over to the middle and settles herself into her spot.  I can't even begin to express how happy this little ritual makes me. 

I'd hoped to get some sleep on Tuesday night before the surgery, but nerves, reflux, and frequent trips to the bathroom conspired to keep me up until the wee hours.  At the rather wee hour of 3:30 my alarm went off and Sally's birthday began in earnest.  Sean, Umma and I left the house at 4:30; Baba stayed home with a sleeping Walter.  It was a quiet ride to the hospital, lit by the full, blue moon.

A little girl like Sally comes once in a blue moon.

We arrived at 5:30 and immediately started getting ready for the c-section. Item #1 on my birth plan came up before we could even get the birth plan unpacked.  My nurse insisted on trying to place the IV and was unsuccessful, with lots of painful pushing the needle around before she gave up.  I did my best to keep it together while also communicating that I really, really didn't want another painful, poorly placed IV for this c-section. The charge nurse came in and put me at ease right away.  She explained that they could call up someone from anesthesia or a paramedic if needed, but that they'd certainly place the IV in the inner forearm, right where it was and gave me such trouble when Walter was born.  She asked me to let her give it another try in a spot that would be good for breast feeding and recovery; I did, and she got it in easily on the first try.  My whole body flooded with relief (and IV fluids.)  

Sally was hard to find on the monitor at first, but then her heartbeat came through as strong as ever, and during the many pre-op visits that morning I loved listening to her moving around so vigorously, and enjoying feeling her movements in my womb one last time. After she was born I allowed myself a little sadness about the loss of that feeling--there's nothing quite like it. 

Everyone agreed that my plan of having Sean with me for the first part of the surgery and then having Umma come in when Sean left the OR with Sally was a very good plan indeed, so both of them got gowned up and ready to go. 

The blue scrubs were especially cute on blue-eyed Umma

Before I knew it I was being wheeled down the hall to the OR.  I was alone--they brought Sean in after the spinal block and other pre-op preparations were done.  At first I was worried about that, because he'd held my hand and helped me through the epidural with Walter. But the OR was full of really warm, wonderful women--nurses and anesthesiologists--who immediately put me at ease and literally surrounded me with comfort and encouragement. I rested my head on one of the nurse's shoulders and she hugged me during the whole spinal block procedure, calmly narrating everything that happened and patting my arm affectionately.  I think the spinal block took two tries to get right, but I felt so calm and cared for I barely registered the delay.  It reminded me of day two after Walter was born, how in the middle of everything falling apart Dr. Y. comforted me while I cried and gave me a kiss on my forehead.  There is something about women caring for women in these moments that is precious indeed. 

Dr. M. is not a woman, but he is my dear doc and I was glad indeed to see him in the OR.  He and his team worked very well together and you could tell that they were all engaged and really present, even though it's a routine procedure. It was very different than the feeling in the room when Walter was born.  When that surgery was over, the doc started gossiping with the nurses about office politics.  I'd also made the anesthesiologist hold my hand when Sean left with Walter, so he wasn't monitoring my blood pressure as well as he should have been (which lead to the big blood pressure drop, vomiting, and other complications.) This time the anesthesiologist was on top of my blood pressure the whole time, giving me medicine to raise my blood pressure every time I started feeling a little nauseous.  It was good she was ready and able to do that, because my blood pressure dipped a lot throughout the surgery.  With her proactive help, I was able to get through the whole thing without throwing up (recovery was a different story ... lots of throwing up that first day and night.  But that was, relatively, fine.)

I'd had no idea how different a spinal block is from an epidural.  I couldn't feel anything at all, not even the pain-free tugging and pushing I clearly felt throughout Walter's c-section. I couldn't move my lower body at all, either. Our anesthesiologist narrated the surgery and gave kind and caring encouragement throughout, while Sean held my hand and occasionally peeked at Dr. M.'s progress.  Our anesthesiologist took some rather graphic pictures of the surgery which I've kind of looked at but not very closely.

"Now you'll feel a big tug," she said, and I did feel that one, the tug that brought Sally out into the air right at 8 am.  The second that the air hit her she started to scream.  It was wonderful.  It took a little time and intervention from the pediatrician to get Walter to cry.  Everyone was very impressed with how quickly Sally started crying. Lots of joyful crying and laughing and words of welcome filled the room.  The anesthesiologist confirmed that we did, indeed, have a little girl, which I needed to hear because I wasn't completely convinced until that moment. "I can't tell you for sure until she's measured," she said, "But I think she's quite petite."

That was my impression, too, when Dr. M. held Sally up for me to see.  A very little baby, very angry, looking very very much like me when I was a little, angry baby.  I was relieved to hear her weight-- 7 lbs, 5 oz--which is small but not too small at all.  She's not a very long baby, either ... only 18 inches tall.  And she loves being all scrunched up into a ball, which makes her seem even smaller.  The "Sally Bug" nickname fits very well indeed.  

So angry!

Sally passed her first tests and exams with flying colors at the warming station in the OR.  When the pediatrician was done with the initial assessment, they wrapped her up and handed her to Sean who put her right next to me for our first snuggle.  She was still crying like a champ, and blowing little amniotic fluid bubbles.  I kissed and kissed her head and as Sean and I snuggled her she started to calm down, which surprised me.  Sally continues to respond very well to being comforted--we've only had to break out one of the "5 S's" from happiest baby on the block ("Shhhhhhh.")

Snuggle bug, right from the start

Sean followed Sally to the nursery where they got her a little more cleaned up, poked her heel, got her footprints, etc. Umma came in and held my hand while Dr. M. put me back together. Baba, having had breakfast with Walter and dropped him off at daycare, arrived at the hospital during the surgery and joined Sean in the nursery.   He told me later that Sean was completely focused on Sally--it was like there was no one else in the room, no one else in the world.  Clear symptoms of a dad in love.

Far from office gossip, Dr. M. was giving instructions and narrating his work throughout the surgery, totally focused.  I heard him describe the stitch he was using, and the nurse say quietly, admiringly, "Beautiful." Always a nice thing to overhear.  Everyone involved in the surgery was very pleased and relieved. Very quickly I found myself being wheeled back to my room, settled back in and given my sweet Sally to nurse.  

Nursing Sally for the first time

I don't remember how that first nursing went, honestly. It's a blur ... I think we had some trouble with her tongue pushing my nipple away, but when she latched she latched surprisingly well, and I knew I wouldn't have the same nipple damage I had after my first attempts to nurse Walter. We got lots of great visits from the lactation consultant (another benefit of the planned c-section and being in the hospital during the week rather than over the weekend.)  She admired Sally's perfect latch and my calm approach when faced with getting-started problems.  She helped me remember how to do a football hold, which is shockingly easy to do with a petite baby and it felt great to have some options for varying her position.  

I am pretty good at being calm during nursing, and even keeping perspective when things aren't going well.  But it's also something I worry about a lot, because it's hard not to jump from whatever the current problem is to the possibility that I won't be able to nurse or will have to stop nursing early, and even though I know that's not the end of the world, it's a possibility that makes me sad.  There have been a number of those worrisome moments with Sally; great latch notwithstanding, it's been hard and it continues to be hard. Sally is jaundiced and the bilirubin makes her very, very sleepy.  When she wakes up (or when we wake her up) to nurse she is usually very tired, very hungry, and very angry. Once we get started, it's great, but getting started is a real struggle.

But there's already been a lot to celebrate, too.  My milk came in with very little fanfare on the evening of the second day, which is very early for a c-section (my milk came in on day 4 with Walter.)  I seem to have more than enough for her but not so much that I'm particularly engorged.  I have to pump a very little bit at times to get soft enough for her to latch, and we've used eyedroppers of expressed breast milk to encourage Sally and give her hope when she's having trouble and frustrated. No need to supplement with formula--her weight loss has been significant, but not enough to make anyone worried. Today her poop is yellow and seedy, which means she's getting good, high fat hindmilk.  So many things going well ... I am still worried, but feeling good about our chances.

We stayed at the hospital for three days; we could have chosen to stay for a fourth, but we were ready to go home. Low points included a bad choice on my part regarding pain medication (I chose not to take it when I should have ... and then remembered how important it is to stay ahead of the pain rather than treat it "as needed.")  There was also an almost hilariously bad personality mismatch with one of our nurses ... I say "almost" because it made those seven hours pretty awful for me and Sally, but even while it was happening it was kind of funny.  She was very high strung, very anxious, with non-stop unhelpful 2am talking and prone to making kind of dramatic disparaging statements regarding the temperament of our precious newborn daughter in response to trivial setbacks.  Sean does a pretty great impression of this.    

Highlights include all of our other nurses, who were absolutely wonderful, especially a nurse who had a very similar birth experience as I had with Walter.  She understood both my worries and my joy coming into Sally's birth, and she seemed to really love Sally, too, putting extra time and effort into getting good pictures of her and taking her to the nursery so I could get a nap and then Sean and I could have a romantic dinner together. 

The bug's first photo shoot, with photos by very patient nurse

The greatest highlight of all, by far, was Walter's visit on Thursday afternoon. He's always happy to be with Umma and Baba, but he was starting to get a little desperate for Mama and Dada.  "Mama car!" he said, weeping, when he saw my car on Thursday morning and no Mama to drive it.  We talked to him on the phone, including a call to him at day care shortly after Sally was born.  He was so excited and happy on the phone: "Love you, Mama! Love you, Dada! Love you, Baby Sally!!!" We'd originally planned to wait until day 3 for his visit, thinking I might not be well enough before then, but by Thursday afternoon the catheter and the IV were out and I was looking and feeling pretty good.  And Sean and I were both feeling very anxious and desperate to see Walter, too.

We got some good advice from the lactation consultant about Walter's visit: when we knew they were close to the hospital, we took Sally to the nursery. That way, Walter got to see and visit with Mama and Dada without the new baby, first. Walter was happy to see us, but immediately asked for baby Sally.  Walter and Baba went with Sean to get Sally from the nursery. Walter was nervous and excited.

Walter sees his sister for the first time.

Back at the room, we took some family pictures. Sally started to cry and want to nurse, and since getting her going on nursing is kind of a production, things got a little frantic for a short time.  Walter was overjoyed to meet his sister.  He likes to whisper "Baby Sally Baby Sally" and tell her secrets in what sounds like parseltongue.  We watched him trying to figure out the best way to interact with her physically. He errs on the side of gentle caution (but occasionally needs reminding to hug with less force, stroke her ears with one finger and not pinch, etc.) He sat with me on the hospital bed and was very gentle with me, too.  

While restrained and careful, Walter also radiated joy and giddy energy.  He danced and sang around the room, occasionally very cheerfully calling out for more crackers (Daddy shared his Cheez-Its.) He clapped and beamed at us.  Sean helped him to hold Sally in his lap and it was amazing to watch him process the moment: feeling so happy and excited, and at the same time nervous and wanting desperately to do it right.

"I can't believe I'm holding my sister!"

Walter presented Sally with a birthday card from his day care classroom (complete with classmate handprints.)  He also gave her a little monkey Umma helped him pick out.  Sally gave Walter a Curious George doll, which he was delighted with at first, but then he turned introspective.  After a minute of careful thought he offered to give the George doll to Sally.  He was quite relieved when we explained that George really was a gift for him.  Then he offered Sally some of his Cheese-Its, and was confused (but also a little relieved) when we explained that she couldn't have any.

We decided to end the visit while everyone was still happy (and before Walter could somehow trigger a code blue by pressing all the buttons in the room.)  It was short but it was amazing.  I wish I could better articulate what it felt like to have my whole family together that way.  It was something like this:

Totally geeking out

We're so proud of Walter.  He's navigating this huge transition with a great deal of joy, patience and a positive outlook. It's clearly wearing him out--he's exhausted at the end of the day.  But he manages all the same to bring the best of himself to all these new situations.  And the best of Walter is astoundingly loving and good.  

Tonight Walter was so tired he just kept self-destructing.  He threw his plate of food on the floor, then helped clean it up, then said "I'm sorry" so sadly we felt like maybe we should be apologizing to him. He just seemed borderline miserable all night. But he also sang his new "Baby Sally" song and included her name with great joy in his "God bless" prayer list. After dinner I held Walter in my lap for the first time in months, wrapped my arms around him and cried and cried.  He was not alarmed by this at all, just snuggled in, stroked my arm, and watched The Muppets. 

Lots of feelings these days.  But we are weathering them together. 

The rest of our hospital stay was pretty uneventful: my healing and progress started strong and continued to be good throughout.  The vomiting and nausea was annoying but wore off with the anesthetic. The catheter gave me flashbacks and worries but it wasn't in very long at all. The IV was perfectly placed and gone very quickly, too.  I was up and walking just a few hours after the surgery.  I got my appetite back and heartily enjoyed any and all food that came my way, although the hospital's definition of "burrito" was pretty amusing:

This is NOT a burrito

I left the hospital looking about five months pregnant (I estimate that's about 2 months less pregnant than I looked on the day we took Walter home.)  And I felt ... good.  Like walking down the hall and out to the car was probably not going to kill me. Sally cried getting into her carseat for the first time and then fell asleep, and then woke up and regarded us and her situation calmly and with interest. 

 Umma and Baba took Walter and Hank out for a walk so that we could get settled in.  When they got back from their walk we all greeted each other with great joy. Hank the Dog was as happy and relieved as I've ever seen him, and gave me very loving, gentle licks on my arm, clearly communicating the dog equivalent of "Thank God you're alright.  You had me worried."

"Another baby for me to fret over.  I think I love her."

Umma and Baba headed home on Monday, taking Hank with them for the week.  Sean is home with me and Sally this week. Baba will be back next week when Sean returns to work. Then Sally and I will head down to Crick for a week with Umma and Baba and then ... a few weeks of just me and Sally (and Hank) together during the day. I think I'll be in great shape and ready for the challenge by then. I feel almost well enough, but not quite, to manage it now.  My feet are still super swollen and I'm feeling more abdominal pain as I ween myself of the narcotics  But I'm getting there. Tonight I changed her diaper for the first time and it only took 4 tries to get it right (to be fair, a certain baby kept peeing as soon as I got the new diaper on.) 

This post has taken me all day to write, which means I didn't sleep while the baby slept, so I'd better try to do that, now.  It was a good day.  One blog post, lots of poopy diapers (take that, jaundice!), a visit from members of the congregation, a shower for Mama, a bath for Sally, lots of nursing, lots of snuggling.  

Welcome to the family, Sally Bug! As Walter says, "Baby Sally here!" And we are glad, indeed.

Proud Mama, beautiful children

Bonus photo to blow your mind:

Look at the picture on the screen and witness a quantum singularity in the space time continuum.