Uppercase Woman

Stomach Bug ATTACKS ***UPDATED***

First me, with bad stomach pain and nausea. Then the diarrhea--the really fun kind, the kind where you say oh my god I'm not going to make it to the bathroom and then you DON'T--last night and today. And I had a fever both Monday and Tuesday nights (but I went to work! Cause I'm a trooper!).

Then Charlie, but he got full on nausea and vomiting. He was flattened  by noon today. I left work and came home and found him on the floor of the nursery, with Tori in the gymini, as close to the bathroom as he could get.

But Tori was fine. She was a bit sleepy, but I thought that could still be from her shots Monday. She ate dinner at 6:30 or so, and then nursed at 8 and again at 9.

Then she spit up. Then she spit up again, then she spit up again and then she covered the couch in vomit.

She's now groggy and won't nurse. I called the pediatrician cause I'm a first time mom and I'm FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. He said (no, not my normal one, the on call one) to try to get her to nurse every two hours and also try Pedialyte. She is sleeping now (it's 10:45pm) and I'll get her up soon and try to get her to nurse or take Pedialyte later.

Any advice? When do we actually panic and go to the ER? How do you survive this and not go crazy?

And why, for the love of GOD, is there only one bathroom in our house?

***UPDATE***

Ok, it's now 9:45am and things are much, much better. Tori didn't puke again after the first four (!) times. She slept a couple of hours and then nursed for a few minutes (she was still refusing both plain and apple flavored Pedialyte) which she kept down. I changed her diaper four or five times overnight--not too bad at all (usually it's once or not at all). This morning she's acting like herself--totally normal. I plan to just nurse her today and wait to give her solid food until either tonight or tomorrow. I think Adina is right--my having it first allowed Tori to blow through it super fast. She got my antibodies along with my virus. Ah, motherhood.

Charlie, on the other hand, was up much of the night puking. He thinks it's turned around a bit and he's attempting to eat a toaster waffle. Poor guy.

Thanks for all the comments, and special thanks to Moxie who came online and chatted with me last night and made me laugh. Still looking forward to the day Tori pukes in my mouth.

And Journeywoman... WOW. Just WOW. That is excellent advice. But, you know. EW.

Six Months

My darling baby girl,

You are six months old today! I can't believe it. Really. I mean, just a minute ago you were a little lump that barely covered the space from my chin to my boobs, and now you're this big baby.  Just like your bib says, it's a miracle.

So much has changed in this last month! The biggest and best thing that's changed is your laugh. Oh, Tori, your laugh! There isn't a better sound in the world. One night I had something stuck in my teeth and I, in a very ladylike manner, spit it out (in the living room. While I was holding you on the couch, and no, I don't know where it went). You thought my spitting was hilarious, and laughed so loud and so hard that your daddy came up from the basement to hear you. For the next half-hour we pretended to spit just so we could hear that wonderful, amazing belly laugh of yours. I want to hear you laugh every day for the rest of my life.

You began eating solid food this month. You love cereal mixed with breast milk, unlike almost every other baby I've heard of. You hate fruit and make the best faces when I try to give it to you. You do, however, love a stage two food of "rice and lentils" which is bizarre. AND it makes the very best poops. Yikes.

You've grown out of a lot of your clothes. Luckily, you have a bunch of Internet aunties like that keep buying you new stuff like your squirrel sweater. What would we do without them?

You have only just started grabbing your own toes when you are lying on your back. It's almost like a dog chasing his tail; once you've got the toes, you stare and stare at them like they are the most bizarre thing and you have no idea what to do with them. Soon, I imagine, you'll start putting them in your mouth, where they can meet your TWO new teeth! While it's wonderful to see you growing up, it's no longer fun to give you a finger to chew on. Ow ow ow. Someday soon, you'll get to discover one of the greatest things about owning teeth: steak.

There are some things you still aren't doing, like rolling over (although you did do it once, but your daddy and I both missed it. We'd set you down in the nursery on your tummy (on the floor, on a blanket) and both looked away and when we looked back you were on your back. You were more surprised than we were, I think. I worry about this sometimes, because lots of people tell me you "should" be rolling over now, and sitting up too. But I remind them that you were born a month early, and you'll get there in your own sweet time. I'm sure if your Daddy and I were a bit more willing to allow you to cry and get frustrated you'd be working harder on those things. I'm afraid you are terribly, terribly spoiled and get picked up the instant you display distress. And I don't feel one tiny bit badly about that either.

Today, to celebrate your birthday, we decided to try to take a family portrait. Heh. Family--that's what the three of us are. Family. How awesome is that? We all three wore black turtlenecks (yours made by another internet auntie) because, after all, black makes you look slimmer (not that you have to worry about that, um, don't get a bad body image when you read this later), and because we are sooooooo not one of those families that puts on white shirts and khakis for a photo. We are a family that wears all black and has tattoos and stuff. Cause we're cool like that.

We are a family. A happy, happy family. And we love you more than anything, Tori Anne. You are our girl. Happy six month birthday, darling!

Presenting: The First Tooth!

That Time Of Year

Since I worked on Black Friday I got to take today off. Charlie and I had a bunch of things to do: take Hammer, The Best Dog Ever TM, to the vet (he's fine--no permanent damage, and his limp is almost gone); and work a bit on Charlie's mom's condo (brought some cool stuff back to the house, like a green Wedgwood bowl and Charlie's silver baby brush and comb).

That put us right near one of the largest malls in the world, so we decided to take Tori to see Santa. We'd seen this mall's Santa on the news the other day and knew he was pretty cool looking (real beard!), so we were pretty excited. OK, I was excited. Charlie hates malls.

Turns out Wednesday at 3:30pm is the PERFECT time to go to the mall. Not crowded a bit, and NO LINE for Santa. We were in an out of there in ten minutes.

Tori thought he was pretty awesome. More photos to come tomorrow.

Feed That Baby

So, here we are, several days into Tori's new life with solid foods (of a sort. Does anyone really feel like rice cereal is solid?). Yeah! So far so good. She loves the rice cereal mixed with breast milk. She prefers it thick--more like pudding than gruel--and will eat, oh, a tablespoon or two at a time. She's been eating it twice a day (well, she did with me. Charlie feeding her didn't go so well the first time. But he's never fed a baby before. God bless all those years of babysitting I did). Other than pooping more often (yeefuckingha), she's showing no other changes. Oh--except for the first 24 hours she did spit up a little more, but that's subsided (she hardly ever spits up, so that was unusual. And it was only twice, both times on clean shirts. Because why spit up on a dirty shirt?).

She enjoys eating, it appears (like mother like daughter, eh?) and we got to set up the fabulous high chair and use it (the Bumbo was fun for feeding her but she was too grabby with the spoon, and besides, we really don't want to encourage her to eat in front of the TV. And yes, we put the Bumbo on the coffee table. Don't you?). And we're going to go ahead and pretend she actually fits in the high chair and that we don't have to stuff towels on either side of her to keep her from listing like a drunk in her seat.

So I'm taking a look at various source (a book at home, and, of course, Google) about what other foods to try and when and HOLY SHIT does my head hurt now.

From what I've read, I've learned the following:

1. She shouldn't get anything other than rice cereal in the next eight days before she turns six months old (in fact, I've probably scarred her for life by introducing the cereal two weeks early). Then a magical fairy will descend from the heavens, wave a magic wand, and she'll be allowed to eat sweet potatoes. And bananas. AND DON'T MIX THE FOOD until the fairy appears (other than using breast milk to moisten the cereal). The majority of websites say this, although about a third say she could be eating all this stuff any time after four months.

2. After she's eight months old, she can eat squashes, any non-citrus fruits, and meat. Some websites say she can have yogurt at this point to, but most say OH MY FUCKING GOD DO NOT GIVE YOUR BABY COW MILK!!! UNTIL AT LEAST A YEAR OLD!!! OR SOMETHING REALLY BAD WILL HAPPEN!!!!!

3. Sometime between eight and ten months old, she can start eating finger food. One website recommended giving her crackers while she's teething, but most websites say the same thing about wheat that they do about milk. Only a little louder. After ten months, she can eat potatoes and legumes. Some folks also say you can start offering cheese at that point, but see #2.

4. After ten months, fish can be introduced (do you think they offer a baby food version of bagels and lox? OK, kidding, kidding. I know she could only have whitefish). And tomatoes. Maybe some pasta, but see #3 and #2 about the whole wheat thing.

5. Under no circumstances is she allowed to have peanuts or egg whites until she gets her driver's license, and then only if NO OTHER FOOD IS AVAILABLE ON THE ENTIRE PLANET.

Do you feel better informed? Cause I don't. I feel fucking confused as shit. I understand some of this stuff is about food allergies and that makes good sense. I don't want to fuck around there (especially after Jo-Ann's recent experience). Some of the sites say that you shouldn't eat peanuts at all, even while you are pregnant and/or breastfeeding. If that's true, Tori is well and truly screwed because I've eaten a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich at least twice a week for years now. Sigh.

Anyway. So, I'd love to hear about your experiences introducing solids. Please try to only relate your experience. Do not delve into advice. I beg you. Plead with you. And do NOT tell other commentors that they screwed up and gave something bad to their kids. Pretty please with a non-allergenic cherry on top. No one needs that, right?

Gratitude

It's funny, but I almost never remember to think about what Thanksgiving means. I mean, the actual "giving of thanks" part. Not until someone reminds me, anyway.

When I first got sober, I lived about a block from a meeting that did (still does) an all-day Thanksgiving thing. All kinds of people would show up--homeless, nearly homeless, the used-to-be-homeless, and the Thank-God-I-Got-Sober-Before-I-Was-Homeless (like me). It was easy to find gratitude in that space, and to find the grace to be thankful.

Then family obligations stepped in, and while I'm always grateful for family, sometimes the thanks-giving message got lost in catching up and preparations.

Two years ago, Thanksgiving came about three weeks after I'd lost the boys. I went to a meeting and was ready to drive up to Charlie's aunt's for the Thanksgiving meal when I realized that I just could not do it. I couldn't sit across from anyone and pretend to have a shred of gratitude in me. I did not have the heart to be a good guest. I would have either snapped at someone, gotten into a baaaad political argument (Charlie's aunt is just a mite more conservative than I am--but then, there are drag queens more conservative than I am), or spent the whole meal weeping. Fun for everyone. So I canceled. At the last moment. It was rude, but less rude than showing up would have been.

Last year I was newly pregnant. I went to Elise's family dinner, and had a lovely time. I was hopeful and trying to believe that something good was going to happen. I was able to eat even though I had morning sickness. And morning sickness meant that there was a baby in me. And that was good.

This year? Oh, this year! I have never before known the full meaning of gratitude. The world is a beautiful place now--because my darling, wonderful, miraculous little girl is in it. While I listened to Tori laughing last night, I felt for just a brief fleeting moment, true and unimaginable joy. I was in the moment, listening to the guffaws of an infant. My infant. My daughter. My precious, magical Tori.

Oh my god, as I'm writing this, this song (one of my favorites) just came on the radio. Now I'm crying.

Thanksgiving dinner--both of the ones I'm going to this year--are going to be an unbelievable joy this year. Because Tori will be there with me. Life is good, dammit. Really, really good.

What are you grateful for this year?

Laughter Is The Best Medicine

Today I had to go see my doctor to get a newer! better! stronger! migraine medication. Migraines, along with lots of weight and gray hair, are one of the many legacies pregnancy and infertility treatments gave me. I never had a migraine before I got pregnant with the boys.

But then I got home from the appointment and Tori laughed and laughed--huge, bright belly laughs followed with shrieks of delight--and it was all worth it. There is no better sound in the world, and I think it could cure any headache.

If not, I got the better drugs. Heh.

Wishes

The other day I was trolling some high-end children's clothing boutique on line (thanks to an ad I saw on Dooce), and came across something like this. I was absolutely seized with an intense desire to buy it since we all know that every baby needs a $48 tutu ensemble that they can only wear for a week. Ahem.

But the truth is I wanted to buy it because I wanted to live vicariously through my daughter. A tutu was behind my very first self-centered-fear based decision.

When I was five or six, my mother scraped together enough money to get me into a ballet class. I loved ballet desperately; the beauty and grace of ballet dancers on TV charmed me beyond measure. As a kid, I would put on classical albums (yes, real live albums because I'm THAT OLD) and dance and dance and dance.

I was so excited when I started the class. And that excitement last exactly twenty minutes until two little girls, sisters, came into the class wearing perfect little tutus--one in pink and one in a frothy pale green. I had a leotard (but no tights) and suddenly felt like the ugliest duckling in the world. It was the first time I can remember my childhood poverty being so evident. I was sickeningly, desperately jealous. It was awful.

I remember going home that day and making fun of those girls to my mom. I said they were terrible dancers, and that they looked ridiculous trying to dance in those tutus. They were pathetic, I said. I remember I managed to couch it so that it made my mom laugh, so she wouldn't feel bad that she couldn't afford to buy me a tutu.

The next week, the girls came back in two different tutus. Yellow and blue. It was just too much.

I quit the class a week or two before the recital (I think; my memory is a little fuzzy here). I don't remember what reason I gave my mom, but it wasn't the truth, whatever I said.

(There was also a trip to watch the Albuquerque ballet do a dress rehearsal of a performance where we got to sit in the front row and watch; while this sounds awesome, I was actually shocked to discover that the ballerinas make a god-awful racket when they land on the stage after one of those graceful jumps. Between that and the tutus, I was off ballet forever.)

(Oh, and then there was the time when I was eight and supposed to go see Baryshnikov dance in the Nutcracker at the Lincoln Center in DC--we were visiting my uncle and he got tickets--but I was too sick to go because I had a 105 degree fever. I begged and begged to go but they made me stay home and I never got over that either. That REALLY turned me off ballet forever).

(I have a lot of issues around ballet, eh?)

Anyway, when I saw that baby tutu, I saw the chance to give Tori a small thing I'd always wanted and couldn't have.  At this point, Tori's just a baby, so chances are my buying her an unwanted tutu isn't going to cause any permanent damage. But she may grow up and want to be a football player and never, ever want to don a tutu for any reason, and I have to make sure that I don't try to live my life over through her. She is not me, and I can't fix the past. Sadly.

I guess what I should really do is find some place that sells tutus for fat chicks, put one on, and dance around my living room. Give myself now the gift I wanted then. But let Tori be Tori. Right?

Oh, hell, I still want to buy it for her. It's so fucking cute.

Friday At Last

Well, it's finally Friday. Thank GOD. I have nothing exciting to say, so you will have to settle for pictures... heh. Like you all wouldn't rather just have me upload photos of Tori every day anyway.

This photo set proves that I really, really need to get a video camera. Because I happen to believe that EVERY SINGLE THING she does--including breathing--is spectacular and photo-worthy, I just endlessly snap photos while she remains in the same pose. So, go to slide show mode, and set it to a fast speed and pretend I have a video camera. Have a great weekend!

Five Months

My darling Tori,

You turned five months old yesterday on Election Day! And you voted for the very first time (ok, you watched me and your Daddy vote, but we were thinking about you when we cast that vote). It's simply amazing. I just can't believe how spectacular you are, and each passing day brings even more joy that the day before. My life now is the complete opposite of that guy in Office Space; each day is better, therefore today is the BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.

You are becoming a person more and more. You have definite likes and dislikes now, and are more than just a yummy-smelling sleepy lump. You spend a lot of your day awake enjoying the world around you.

In this last month, we've introduced you to your new favorite thing, the Exersaucer. You started out only being able to be in it for fifteen minutes at a time, but now, just a few weeks later, you can stay in it playing for almost an hour sometimes. Especially if we also let you watch Sesame Street at the same time. The other day I cleaned the whole house while you banged and yelled and stared at the TV. It was another one of those perfect moments I dreamed of as a parent; you playing and happy and me flitting around you, enjoying your joy.

You are getting closer and closer to being able to roll over. When you are on your tummy now, you arch your body into a "U" shape and rock back and forth trying to figure out how to get on over. If you stretch up just a little more, my dear, your feet will touch your head and I can see about getting you a job in the circus.

Some of the books we read about raising babies tell us you should have turned over by now. But we say to heck with them--after all, you were nearly a month early, and if we "correct" for your due date you are miles ahead of what the books say. No one can evaluate a baby "week by week" anyway, right?

You aren't eating solid food yet, although it's clear you want to. You stare at us while we eat and practice chewing in imitation. I've let you taste random things--some bread, a banana, a cheetoh (I know, you're too young for processed cheese--but man, you should have seen your face!). The banana was a clear winner. Just a few more weeks, my dear. Then it's rice cereal for you!

For now, though, it's still all about the boob. You love the boob. More than anything. If the boob doesn't get home from work on time, you are inconsolable. Me, you greet with indifference. But if I walk around you naked, my boobs get all kinds of smiles and giggles. You and the boob=love forever. It's remarkable, considering how long it took you to nurse. But then, it took me and your Daddy six years of friendship before we fell in love, so there you go.

You vocalize all the time now, and you love to imitate sounds. The other day I was making you go "Arrrg!" like a pirate, much to the delight of your Godmotheraunt Sarah. It's the funniest thing I've ever seen. You are actually so funny that you make us laugh all the time--it's even lowered your Daddy's blood pressure.

You are an amazingly beautiful baby. Everyone says so, usually followed with the disclaimer "I mean, we tell all parents that their babies are beautiful, but she really is!" It's very funny. Your eyes are big and bright and blue, and you stare and stare and stare at things as you try to make sense of the world.

Your hair continues to be a crazy delight. It's definitely gotten thinner in some spots, but on your crown it's a glorious 3-4 inches long, and it stands absolutely STRAIGHT UP most days. It's hilarious. You look like a cross between a punk rock goddess and a cockatoo. It makes me laugh every day.

I love you so much, Tori. I can't imagine loving anyone more. At the end of the night when you finally relinquish your lip lock on the boob and let me just hold you, you rest your head against my shoulder and relax, and my heart swells nearly to bursting. My heart is so big because of you I can't believe there is room for you to lean against me.

You are grace in a human form, my angel. I love you.

Click on photo to see more!

Grace, Joy, and Water

I found myself tossing and turning most of Saturday night. By 6:30am I knew I wouldn't be sleeping any more, but I stayed in bed for another hour. Tori was still asleep, so I ran through the shower and put on my makeup while Charlie got ready to go pick up the food. My heart was pounding so hard my hands were shaking and I had trouble putting on my eyeliner.

I swear, I was less nervous at my wedding. I get myself so worked up about these events sometimes I can't remember to enjoy them. Hard to believe I used to be an event coordinator, eh? Sigh.

At 10am my mother picked up me and Tori, and Charlie went off to pick up his mom. The choir rehearses for about a half hour before the service starts, and the music we were doing was lovely and simple, thank god, since I could barely focus. Once we were done rehearsing, I put Tori in Charlie's gown.

She looked like a little angel. And she tolerated the bonnet.

I realized  as people started to arrive that I'd forgotten to bring the roses to the church. Elise and her husband were going to hold a bowl of rose petals at the front of the church while everyone came up and said a few words about Tori then placed a rose petal in the water. It was a major part of the ceremony. We tried to dig up some dead roses from the previous week's flower bouquet, but they looked pretty bad. Blessedly Elise's hubbie ran back to our house and got them before the service started.

Then Charlie called and said our friend Mark, who was going to do the blessing, took a train to the wrong town. I didn't think there was anyway he could make it on time, but he got there only a few minutes late.

The service finally started, and the choir did its thing. It was weird, in a way, singing in front of my friends, but it was nice too. After we were done and could sit down, I tried to do some deep breathing so I could be in the moment instead of just racing with anxiety. It helped. The sermon was awesome, and then it was finally time.

Everything was perfect. Tori was just amazing, awake and engaged and paying attention. Everyone said the nicest things... Tori is truly loved. Sarah made us all cry, and I cried a bit while I spoke too. Mark cried while he read the blessing. In fact, everyone but Tori cried.

Tori was nonplussed by the water; she just stared at my pastor the whole time like he was the most fascinating man ever. The pastor walked her around the church, showing her off, and I took a deep breath and was grateful it was over. Then it was back to the house for food and cake!

Enjoy a ton of photos here. If that's not enough, check out Sarah's photos too.

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If you haven't had enough of me, check this out (it's a podcast of a Canadian radio show that I'm featured in). I haven't listened to it yet, so I hope I don't sound like a complete idiot, but it was fun being interviewed. Now I've been on Australian and Canadian radio... NPR, here I come!

Baptism-A-Go-Go (you may be totally bored by this post but I don't care!)

I am ridiculously giddy about Tori's baptism on Sunday. It seems like a weird thing to be excited about, but it's really just a big party celebrating her existence, and that IS something to get excited about (and yeah, there's that whole "dedicating her to God" thing going on too). I mean, other than a baptism, can you picture an event celebrating a baby that would involve a choir? Yeah, I didn't think so.

We met with my pastor on Tuesday morning and he spent over an hour hammering out the details so that the ceremony would encompass everyone. Charlie, being an agnostic, doesn't want to lie to my pastor's face and promise to raise Tori "in Christ" and neither does Sarah, the Jewish godmother. So Charlie and I are going to say the following:

Will you pledge to nurture this child so that she may grow in joy & faithfulness? We will!

Will you pledge to raise this child in this Spiritual Community? We will!

Will you pledge to do all you can to increase her faith, confirm her hope and perfect her in love?    We will!

Nice, huh? I tell ya, my pastor is a genius. The congregation itself will promise to raise Tori "in the example of Christ" which is awesome because no one can say Jesus set a bad example, right?

We will also ask everyone present to come forward and share their hopes and dreams for Tori, placing a rose petal in the baptismal font while they do so. Elise and her husband will lead this, staying up front and holding the bowl of rose petals (do you know I can't find a florist to sell me rose petals? I have to buy roses and rip them up myself). Then my dear friend Mark (who needs to get a blog already!) will say a blessing over the water, and my pastor will baptize her.

Then we'll do the following while anointing each part with oil:

Head (Sarah):  May you know God’s love always.

Heart (Sarah's daughter) – May you learn to love others with your whole heart.

Mouth(Pete) – May you speak truth & wisdom with caring & grace.

Hands (my mom and Charlie's mom)– May you help create a better world.

Feet (me and Charlie)– May you walk the path of life to see your children and your  children’s children to the third and fourth generation!

Cool, huh? Then we finish the church service and everyone comes to my house for chow.

I'm so happy. Remind me of this moment when Tori is a teenager and making me crazy. I'm just so damn happy that she's finally here...

Here's a preview of things: Tori's baptism gown and her dress for the after party!

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Be sure to drop by the blog this weekend to catch my review of this PBS program. It's airing on Monday, October 23rd. You can find local listings here!

 

Four Months (a day early)

Tori, you are four months old tomorrow. This has been a big month. You've grown and changed so much in the last few weeks!

You hold up your head brilliantly now. You can raise yourself up on both arms when you're on your tummy and look around. When I hold you in my arms, you like to keep your upper body away from me and look about instead of just laying your head against me (which just makes the times you do rest your head against me seem all that much sweeter). You can sit in your Bumbo chair and watch TV all by yourself! And it's clear that you like that bastard Elmo on Sesame Street, damn it all (I find that cheap Grover rip off totally annoying. But then, I'm an evil mommy).

Your personality is beginning to show itself. You like being held, but you hate being stroked (which drives me, your daddy, and your Aunt Sarah CRAZY). You like me kissing you, but Daddy's beard annoys you when he gives you kisses (I'm afraid you'll just have to tolerate being annoyed, because you are way too eminently kissable for him to give it up). You'll sleep in your crib for your naps, but only when I'm home. When Daddy's with you, you want to sleep next to him on the couch.

You had the first in what will be a lifetime of tumbles this morning. I put you on the guest room bed (which is just a mattress on the floor) and you managed to roll yourself off, landing on your back on the carpeted floor (right now I'm really happy about that carpet, even though it's nearly white and retains every single cat puke stain no matter what). You weren't hurt--far from it--but you cried and cried cause you were scared. Your Daddy was a wreck too. Luckily, your mommy read a great blog a while back where a whole bunch of mommies talked about the stupid things they did that led to their kids getting bumped and scraped and she didn't feel too guilty about leaving you alone on that bed for a second (although she won't be doing it again). She didn't know that today would be the day you decided to roll (you can't roll over on a firm surface, yet, but you can--apparently--on a pillow-topped mattress).

The biggest news this month has been the fact that you've decided you like to nurse after all. I'd almost given up when there you were, right on my boob. I love nursing you! My boobs are still bigger than your head, but when you get ready to nurse you open your mouth really, really wide and then just launch yourself onto my nipple and you get a lot of it in your mouth. It's quite impressive. I still have to hold the boob back just a little so you can breathe, but I don't mind. I love when you pull off the boob and study my face for a moment and then smile before launching yourself back on.

This month you've finally started to notice that we have a dog. That's Hammer, The Best Dog Ever™. He's going to be an awesome big brother to you. He's still not so excited about you, but you'll be eating solid food in not too long and dropping it on the floor for him and I think that will improve your standing in his eyes considerably. You still haven't noticed the three cats, even though two of them think your nursery is the best place in the world.

Here are some new pictures of you*. When you get older, you're probably going to say, "Good Lord, woman, you dressed me in a lot of pink." I'll probably say something clever like, "Actually, my darling girl, that's not pink--it's coral." And you'll have a big laugh at the silliness of it all. You have lots of clothes in other colors--yellow and white, mostly--but somehow I can't seem to stop putting you in pink. You just look so good in pink. And coral. Plus I wasn't allowed to have baby dolls as a kid (my mom the feminist didn't want me to think mothering was required), so I'm making up for it by dressing you entirely too cutely. Sue me.

I love you more each day, my beautiful daughter. You are amazing!

*When you look at the pictures, be sure to click on each one and see my funny notes. Please. Ahem. Plus you can leave comments! I love comments. I'm a comment whore! :)

Sick Day

I called out sick today. Even though I already took Monday off so that Charlie could go help the movers take his mom her furniture at her new place. While it's true that I've been fighting off a migraine for a couple of days and I've been sleeping badly and am really, really tired...mostly I just miss Tori.

I thought I'd made peace with going back to work. I really did. I had a big project to finish and it took up some time and distracted me. But now it's over, and I feel like I'm staring down a long tunnel of day after day of work without my baby.

It's killing me.

Surely there is something I can do part time to earn the crappy salary I earn now. Although then I'd lose medical benefits. If we had to pay ourselves for our health care it would be over $1,000 a month (work pays mine, but not Charlie's or Tori's). And I'm not sure I could get individual coverage since I've been hospitalized twice in the last two years and have asthma and am fat. Which means I'd have nothing and that's not really an option.

Sigh. I don't know what to do. I know I have a great job now that I shouldn't give up. And the holidays are looming so I'll be nice and busy again and be able to be distracted and take joy in my work again. Sometimes I view the works of art that I sell almost like pets--I love seeing something beautiful going to a good home. I do get something from the work, I really do.

But I miss her so much when I'm there. When the store is empty and the customers are gone and I've done my paperwork for the day and I find myself just waiting for the day to end so I can go home and hold my baby.

I know I'm not hiding this from my boss,either. He can see it in my face. He can feel me slipping away, knows that my heart is too full of Tori to be really about work anymore. Not that I'm doing a bad job or slipping up or anything, I swear. My head is in my work, but not my heart.

Sigh.

I think I'm also going through something hormonal. Maybe a post-pregnancy thing, maybe my period is thinking about coming back. I don't know. I crave chocolate and red meat like crazy and I am crying about everything. I just watched five minutes of Notting Hill for the gazillionth time and started crying. I'm crying when I think about going to work tomorrow.

It's going to get better, right? Cause I'm dying here.

_________________________________________________

On a happier note, I'm very excited we've had such a good response to the new Century Club blog (in case you missed it, it's a new password protected blog for those of us with either 35% of our body weight or over 100 pounds to lose--although it's not just about dieting and wieght loss, it's about support too). I've had to turn a few folks away for being too skinny. Heh. But it's up and running and I promise to do a post there soon. If you are still interested, email me!

How Cool Is Sarah?

Today is going to be my longest day away from Tori EVER. I will be at work eight hours, then it's off to a bacholette party involving a Fancy Dinner Out and then Male Strippers. It will be over 14 hours before I see my baby again *sob*.

I know, I know. I don't HAVE to go to the party. But I adore the woman that is getting married, and her hubbie to be, and I don't want to miss it. Plus I've never actually seen male strippers, except once at a gay nightclub, so I'm thinking that could make a good blog entry. Heh. I fully expect it to be slimy and silly. And it's only one night in a lifetime, right?

And just to be funny, the restaurant? It's called Swanky Bubbles. Yes, really.

Today Tori spent the better part of the day with Sarah while Charlie ran around town getting our stupid car fixed YES once again (we want to get a new car--actually, a minivan--but we keep getting turned down for the home equity loan that would make it possible. Even though we have $80K in equity in the house. What the fuck?). To console me in my Tori-less day, Sarah sent me this...just the thing to get the boobs flowing for another pump session!

Download video

Three Months

My darling girl, you are three months old today. I can't believe it. Every morning I still wake up completely astounded that you are here.

A few weeks ago I went back to work, leaving you at home with Daddy. You've adjusted brilliantly, and seem quite content to be a Daddy's girl. I feed you and hang out with you in the early morning, then after I go to work you take a nap. Then you, Daddy, and the dog all go for a nice long walk in the afternoon.

I wish I was there with you. Being at work away from you is the hardest thing I've ever done. Harder than getting sober, harder than trying to get pregnant. I miss you like crazy every single moment you aren't at my side.

In the last month we took you to your first wedding. I think maybe that was a bad idea cause you stole just a touch of the bride's shine, I think. You were a big hit. You are the most beautiful baby that I've ever seen, and yes, I'm totally biased. Each day you grow more and more beautiful.

This month lots of people are saying you look like your Daddy. And it's true that you look a lot like he did as a baby. See?

But you still look a lot like I did at your age...

It's hard to say who you look more like. You look like both of us.

You smile all the time now. My favorite smile is the one where you wrinkle your nose up, just like I do. You shriek with glee quite often, and are just on the verge of laughing--really, truly laughing. You no longer keep your hands in tight fists all the time, forcing us to trim your nails more often so you don't scratch yourself or us. Aren't you glad your mommy spent so much time as a vet tech? She's really good at cutting your nails without hurting you. Course, you still hate it.

Since I went back to work, I've treasured every possible minute with you more than before. Instead of pumping at night we've given nursing a try, and it's worked! It's so much fun to watch your little face as you nurse. Much better than me sitting alone pumping upstairs.

You are still a champion sleeper, going four hours at a time at night. Sometimes you sleep on your tummy and it's so funny because when you wake up in that position you give a big stretch that pushes your little butt way up into the air. God, you are adorable.

The other day you grabbed your binky and tried to put it in your mouth. I was suddenly seized with the realization that you are getting older and smarter, and that means you are growing up. It already seems like it's too fast! Slow down! We need more time to make the world ready for the strong woman you will grow up to be. After all, we still live in an age where the first woman to ever anchor the evening news on a major network only just happened. And do you know what journalists asked her in interviews? They asked her about her wardrobe. Do you think they asked Dan Rather and Peter Jennings about their wardrobes? I doubt it. But then, you don't know who Dan and Peter are, so... I digress. Ahem.

Your Daddy was sick not too long ago and had to get some tests on his heart. He's fine, he really is, but he said to me afterward, "I think that my heart should have looked enlarged. Cause just like the Grinch's, it's grown ten sizes since Tori was born." Don't you just love him? You have the best Daddy a girl could ask for.

Each day with you is truly an amazing gift. I see the possibility of God in your eyes. Which reminds me, we scheduled your baptism yesterday. It will be on October 22, just a few days after Mommy and Daddy's tenth wedding anniversary. Isn't that just perfect?

I love you, Tori. More than I can find the words to express. Just like they needed to invent new words to convey the grief I felt at losing your brothers, they need to invent new words to convey how much I love you. Just know that I love you beyond words. Happy three month birthday, my darling girl!

New photos here. And more photos of me as a baby here.

Addicted

I'm telling you, I jonesed for heroin less than I jonesed for Tori yesterday. By the time I got off the train, I was shaking. I actually physically hurt with the need to touch her and kiss her. I'm not sure I fully understood the term "smothered with kisses" before I got in the back of the car and began kissing her.

God, it was awful.

I spent the whole evening with her. I have sworn off home computer use for the time being so that I can spend all my time touching and holding Tori. By the time I went to bed, I felt normal again. And then I got in bed with her after I did my 5 am pumping session so I'd have just that much more physical contact with her (usually, Charlie gets up with her around 4am and feeds her, and then they go to the guest bedroom so that I can get more sleep; Charlie is gifted with near narcolepsy and I am a bad, bad sleeper so this arrangement works very well). It was heavenly.

And, oddly enough, today isn't nearly as bad. I still miss her, but the day is half over and the ache isn't physical yet. I think I might survive. Yesterday, I wasn't so sure. Plus, Charlie says she's less cranky today, so I think she'll adjust. And how awesome is it that they get to bond in that way? She's already deeply bonded to me, so I think it will be good. Right?

Right.

Thanks for all your supportive words. It helped. It also helped that Charlie sent me this photo yesterday in the middle of the day (captioned "WE MISS YA"):

The only thing that still plagues me is the whole global balance of the universe; just a small thing, really. Heh. I'm not sure if I'll be able to say what I mean here, but hopefully you'll understand...

The fact is, even though I love my job and I work for a great place (an art college) doing a great thing (selling student and alumnae artwork), working here isn't the way I can contribute the most to the world. I see that now. I mean, I'm glad I have a job where I do some good--and certainly one where I don't do any harm--but it is hardly the best use of me. The best use of me would be parenting my daughter. What I do at my job is nothing--a drop of beauty in a sea of indifference--but raising Tori is where I can really impact the world, truly make a difference. How is it that I couldn't see that until now? I always have believed that parenting is the most important job in the world, but very few of us are in a position where we really get to do it full time.

And that makes me immensely sad.

While I was pregnant, and even while I was trying to get pregnant (all four years), I always believed that I was not full-time parenting material. But now I know that I am--that the idea of raising my daughter myself and yes, even homeschooling her, sounds exactly right. It's what I want to do with my life. All these years of drifting from job to job, I finally have found the career I want.

But it doesn't have a paycheck. There are no health benefits. It simply isn't possible for me, for my family, right now--as our financial situation stands. And I do like my job and enjoy it, and the folks I work for and with like me (you'd think I was a missing heir to the throne, the way my co-workers and bosses have embraced my return).

So, like so many other Americans, I will continue to work the job I have instead of the one I love. And I'll keep playing the lottery so that maybe that can change.

_______________________________

I haven't mentioned this here yet, but since many of you have posted about it in the comments I guess I should just say that I am quoted in an article in this month's issue of Glamour Magazine. Suddenly, I feel pretty.

And WHY don't I own any waterproof mascara?

Being back at work SUCKS ASS.

But it IS possible to save up the tears for the breastpumping sessions.

Charlie says she misses me. How am I going to survive?

As promised...

Photos.

Two Months

Tori, you are two months old! I can't believe how fast the time has flown. This summer just flew by. I'm going back to work in a week, and you can't imagine how sad that makes me. But I'm not going to dwell on that today.  Much.

We just got back from your very first vacation. You handled it like a champ, which is pretty spectacular since it was roughly 10,000 degrees outside all four days we were gone, and the cabin we were in didn't have air conditioning. Usually the mountains are cool at night, so I even brought with us that cute little jean jacket Menita got you, but I didn't even put you in a 'onesie' most of the time. It was that hot.

Fortunately, I did manage to pick up some swim gear for you. It technically wasn't designed to fit you until you were three months old, but it was so hot we made do. So we took you swimming for the very first time, and it was one of the best days of my life. You, however, weren't quite sure...

Luckily, you adjusted beautifully, and eventually you seemed to enjoy the water. After a while, you actually fell asleep while we were swimming; that was pretty funny. I put you back in your car seat then and let you crash for a bit.

The next day we went back to the pool and this time you loved the water. I even submerged you up to your neck and you gamely kicked your chubby little legs for a while. I wanted to do that drop-the-newborn-in-the-water-and-watch-em-swim thing but your daddy wouldn't let me. He's funny like that.

You've become much more adorable in the last month, if that is possible. You can hold your head up for long stretches now, making our play times really fun. If I stick my tongue out at you, you'll stick yours out back at me. You can make bubbles with spit too, and do that quite often. You are just barely beginning to smile; it's still a rare thing but when it happens! Oh, the heaven's part and angels sing.

You haven't lost your crazy hair; in fact, it's longer now. Right after a bath it gets really curly, but when it's dry it stick straight up, especially in back. I love to play with your hair and fluff it up whenever you'll let me touch it; sometimes, though, you prefer I leave you alone. Which is hard.

I kiss you constantly. I can't believe how incredibly kissable you are. Once I actually kissed you on the mouth at the exact moment you belched so that I ended up inhaling your belch. But it was worth it, cause kissing you is my favorite thing EVER.

You chortle and snort and make all kinds of funny noises when you're happy. When you see your favorite toy (the rather unfortunately named Mr. Beaver from the Chronicles of Narnia), you shape your mouth into an "O" and kick your arms and legs straight out quite energetically. You'll stare at Mr. Beaver and follow him with your eyes and make wild attempts to grab him. I could do that with you all day.

You continue to be an amazingly happy baby. You cry rarely, and then only briefly because it's clear what you want, and your wants are pretty simple and easy to take care of. I can't get over how lucky we are with you. Life with you is pretty amazing.

Thanks to a miracle drug, this last week you made the transition to 100% breast milk in your diet. I'm pretty happy about that, since lately the only times you ever spit up is when you've had formula. You have even been known to latch onto my breasts upon occasion, but you don't ever eat a full meal there--you usually fall asleep in about two minutes or so. That's OK, I enjoy the time with you on the boob anyway and pumping gives me time to engage in reading, a habit I hope to instill in you (reading, I mean, not pumping).

Right now, you have fallen asleep in your swing. You have only just started liking the swing (as in, like, today), and your daddy is very happy about that since he's going to be taking care of you all day while I'm at work. He's hoping he can sit next to you doing his work while you hang out in the swing. Won't that be nice? Gah, I'm gonna hate being at work and away from the two of you.

Your Aunt Sarah was with us on our vacation and took a ton of photos of you (I particularly love this one of you and me and daddy cause we look so happy). I'm glad she did, because the gorgeous camera that your internet aunties bought for us stopped working and we had to send it back to the manufacturer (who is now claiming it's not covered by the warranty because it was a gift--isn't that mean of Canon?). We'll get it back soon though. It was pretty funny at the pool, though, cause it looked like you were being stalked by a paparazzi cause your Aunt Sarah uses a HUGE lens on her camera. People gave us some funny looks, but who cares? As my friend CA used to say, "Of course they're staring, dear, we're very interesting."

Happy two month birthday, my darling girl. I love you more than I can believe.

One Month (and I totally am stealing this from Dooce)*

Tori,

Today, you are 30 days old. This means you are a month old exactly. Your father is thinking about buying you your first car.

You showed up with quite the dramatic flare, declaring your readiness to be part of the world with more blood than was poured on Carrie at the prom. Your father ran at least four stop lights getting you and me to the hospital, and the amazing Dr. Mama appraised the situation and got you out in record time. You and I both managed to survive with all our parts intact, and that is saying something.

Because I was sleeping (sorry about that!) I didn't get to see you right away, so the first person that got to hold you was your father. If there was ever any doubt that you would be a total Daddy's girl, it was erased in that moment. Your Aunt Sarah declared you "Perfect!" and she couldn't have been more right.

When I finally got you in my arms, about eight hours after you were born, I simply couldn't believe it. You have my nose. You were swaddled within an inch of your life when we met, and I unwrapped you like a present and kissed all your fingers and toes. I had no idea that I could love anyone as much as I love you, and I love your father and your Aunt Sarah and your Grandma and Hammer the Dog and a bunch of other people a whole lot.

After five days, we got to take you home. It's been a bit of an adjustment, like everyone said it would be, but we are happy to do it. We went for a brief walk in your very fancy stroller that your Internet aunties and uncles bought for you that first afternoon we were home, and I got a taste of what our life is now like: we are a FAMILY. It's amazing. I've never been happier.

Over the last few weeks, you've already grown and changed so much. Because you decided to arrive a bit early (three and a half weeks!), your arms and legs were scrawny little things. But you are a hearty eater of both breast milk and formula, even if you prefer to take it all from a bottle. Don't worry, your Mom is deeply pro-choice and supports your right to choose how you get your nourishment. So now your legs are chubbing out beautifully, and you have dimples in your knees and elbows. I could spend the whole day licking them, which may sound gross, but someday you'll understand.

Your eyes were a deep blueish-brown at birth, but are now a bold steel blue just like mine. You keep them open more and more now, although can we talk about your awake time being at 1 am? Cause I'd really prefer something like, say, 4 pm instead. You are also usually awake after your 9 am or so feeding, and you and I like to get back in bed and just lay around staring at each other for a couple of hours. It's really fun.

Just yesterday your belly button opened. After the little stump of the umbilical cord fell off, your belly button sealed itself up into a cute little smiley-face. As much as I adored that, I really like the fact that now you have a belly button I can poke my finger in. Yes, I am a freak, but again, someday you'll understand.

As your face has filled out, your eyelashes have gotten really long. And last week your eyebrows finally came in and they look just like your father's. They match your ears, which also look exactly like your father's, right down to the hair you both have growing on them (the hair on your ears will probably fall out eventually, but I'm afraid your father is just going to get more and more as he gets older).

You still have your hair, and it's long and fluffy. It likes to stick up straight on the crown of your head making you look a little bit like a baby orangutan, which we think is adorable. The ends of your hair are trying to curl a little bit, which makes me really excited since I've always wanted curly hair and instead have waves only when it's humid. Your father has curly hair, so maybe you got that from him too.

You have made my life beautiful, my darling daughter. I think my love for you is so big that the universe might need to expand a bit to encompass it all. Happy first month birthday, my darling girl.

* Heather of Dooce has been writing a monthly post to her daughter since she was born (today's was Leta's 29th month birthday), so I bow at her feet as I steal her idea utterly and completely. She started it so that she wouldn't forget any details or milestones, and mentioned a few months back that she re-read some old posts and was so glad that she'd written them cause she'd already forgotten half of that stuff. Since this blog is effectively my baby book, I'm going to do the same thing. Forgive me, Heather, for I have ripped off your wonderful idea. Thank you for coming up with it.

Release

I find myself thinking quite often of how I was a year ago. I see by looking at my July archives that I was visiting the RE to gear up for trying again, preparing to settle on our new house and move, and then buying everything in sight to furnish it.

What I don't see clearly in those post is how fucking depressed I was.

Prior to losing the twins, Charlie and I spent the summers camping and hiking to our heart's content. We usually logged about 30 nights a summer under the stars, and probably hiked over 50 miles a month. But not last summer. Last year we barely managed a dozen nights out, and I think we hiked maybe twice.

At the time I blamed it on the move; but now I now that the entire house hunting/buying/moving thing was actually a treatment for my depression and grief. Don't get me wrong--I'm thrilled we moved, I love our new house and the park and playground a block away. This is the right place to raise Tori. But I spent all last summer in a locked-down emotional state, knowing that we were going to try to get pregnant again soon.

I think I wasn't sure I could survive another pregnancy; and I'm talking this time only emotionally.

Last year, there is no way I would have walked a mile across town to go see the local fireworks*. I would have either a) driven there; b) not bothered to go, claiming to not want to deal with crowds or c) made excuses about how I don't really give a shit about fireworks any way (which is a total lie).

The fact that I'm willing to walk anywhere is evidence of my depression lifting. The fact that I think about walking every day is astonishing. The fact that I cannot WAIT to go camping again, even with the additional stress of having an infant with us, is more proof that I feel normal.

I feel better now than I have felt in over two years.

I'm sure, given time, I could have gotten to this place without having a child. But Tori is speeding up my healing process so much. I hesitate to talk about this; I know that there are so many still in the trenches of infertility and loss, and I don't want to sound like I'm bragging or smug.

But my truth is simply that I feel better than I have for two years and it's all because of a little ten-pound (I'm guessing, we'll know next week!) girl named Victoria Anne Sarah**. Without her, I would still be struggling.

The weirdest thing about this speedy healing is that I have come to finally be able to really and truly say goodbye to the boys. It's so strange; part of me now knows more fully what I've lost; I mean, once Tori was here I could more clearly visualize what it was, exactly, that I'd lost.

But the deeper truth is that I cannot imagine a world where Tori doesn't exist. And the simple fact is that if the twins had lived, Tori would not be here.

The gifts Nicholas and Zachary have given me are tremendous. They taught me how to love, and then they taught me how to grieve, and now they are teaching me how to let go. Their brief lives taught me how to argue discuss without anger and how to be compassionate to the views of others--a trait I seriously lacked before I lost them.

And now their sacrifice, if you want to call it that, have given me the little girl I always dreamed of. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world, and know that I am really and truly blessed.

Thank you, Nick and Zach. I miss you, even more than before, but I thank you for your brief visit to my life. You have given me so, so much. You taught me how to be a mother and how to love your little sister. I do not regret any of it now. Not one minute. Thank you.

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* Yes, we took Tori to the fireworks. Don't worry-- I smushed her one ear against my massive boobs and held my hands over the other one. When they got really loud, Charlie added his hand. I am so glad we went--the fireworks locally are AWESOME, and we got all covered in ash and cinders (don't worry, a blanket covered Tori) we were so close. And they lasted over 35 minutes. Very, very cool. Oh, and we converted the Bugaboo from a pram to a stroller, and Tori LOVES it. She looked like a can of corn rolling around in the pram, and the stroller setting--laid flat, of course--really cradles her. It's awesome.

** We got Tori's birth certificate and social security card (although they left the Sarah off the SSC, sadly). So very, very, very cool.

Happy Supposed-To-Be-Your-Birthday, Tori!

And we took Tori on a train ride to celebrate. Not just any train, but a steam train. She is her father's daughter, after all.

I would tell you all about it but Charlie stole my post. Read and enjoy. It was awesome being out on a family adventure. And boy do people treat you differently when you have a baby with you! Wowza.

Somehow in the haze of early parenting we managed to catch on that it's a holiday weekend, so we're gonna have a BBQ tomorrow with a handful of friends. I have brownies to bake, so I'll keep this short today. Photos, I think will be in order.

Perhaps now that Tori has reached her due date, maybe I can squeeze out the occasional non-Tori post?

HA HA HA HA HA.

Worst Night EVER

But it wasn't the baby's fault.

I was unable to get to sleep because I stupidly stayed up until midnight to watch the premier episode of Blade: The Series (which totally sucked, but since I'm a vampire junkie, I'll watch it). Plus Tori wouldn't stop kvetching. She was talking/crying/moaning/grunting off and on for hours. Since I knew I had to be up for the 3am feeding anyway I couldn't sleep at all

I got very frustrated and decided the appropriate response in that situation was to cry uncontrollably and wake up Charlie so I could then use that opportunity to carefully outlay the ways in which I feel he has been unhelpful as far as the baby goes (he's had a shitload of editing work, so it's been impossible for him to hold the baby much, and I apparently decided that meant he was an asshole). The best part of the argument came when I demanded he comfort his crying wife instead of cowering across the room in fear. I imagine it was much like trying to comfort a cobra.

So then we were both up.

Once the 3am feeding was done, a HUGE storm rolled through. This part of the country, I'm sure you've heard, has been getting a ton of bad storms lately but this one was the worst. Non-stop lightening--really!--and near constant thunder. So of course the terrified 100-lb pitbull had to get in bed with us and quake with fear, which meant we were up until the storm passed.

Tori slept through the storm perfectly. The second it was over, she went back to kvetching. So then we were both up until the 6am feeding. I think we slept between 7am and 10am.

My head hurts.

Parenting ROCKS.

---------------------------------------------------

On a more upbeat note, I am finally beginning to feel much, much better physically. My c-section incision aches occasionally, but the large lumps under it are mostly gone and the pain is really much better. I have more energy (when I sleep) and I've actually taken the dog out for a couple of long walks--just the two of us--which has felt great and gone a long way to restoring the dog's good mood.

Oh, and we saw the pediatrician/lactation consultant again yesterday. God, I just love her. Tori weighs nearly eight pounds! She's really chubbing up.

And for all you folks who assumed that I was going to give up on breast feeding already... oh ye of little faith! Of course we're not giving up yet. I'm going to start taking medication (a prescription plus fenugreek) to increase my supply, in fact, so that we can try to go to 100% breast milk. I'm also increasing my pumping to every two hours during the day (sigh) and see if that helps (my left boob is trying to give up the ghost, so lots of work needs to be done there).

What I'm not going to force, however, is trying to get Tori to latch. We will continue to use the nipple shield once or twice a day just for practice and if she decides to latch, well, awesome. If not, ok. I'll pump.

Turns out the reason she's rejected the shield lately is because she has thrush in her mouth. Poor baby. I'm not surprised; I was on antibiotics for the first two weeks of her life (there wasn't time to get me really sterile before my emergency c-section, remember) so she probably got it from me. She's getting that yummy banana flavored medicine now (which she minds considerably less than you'd think).

So that's my update! Here's your photos...

Short Attention Span

Sorry I didn't post again last week. We're fine. Really. But thanks for all the supportive comments; we'll get there. I knew everything everyone said (like I can put the baby down to pee) but it was just a day of hormonal anguish and I couldn't think. But it's getting better.

I am tired, though. I shouldn't be; I'm pretty spoiled with all of Charlie's help. We've set it up so that we each get six hours of sleep at night (I go up to bed around 11pm, he does the midnight feeding, I do 3am, then he does 6am and we don't get up again until the 9am feeding), but I don't take advantage of it. Cause I have to check on Tori at least once an hour and make sure she's still breathing. Sigh.

We've switched from a bassinet by the bed (don't worry, Meira, it's getting put to good use in Charlie's office) to a co-sleeper and that's a lot easier because I can just open my eyes and look at her instead of having to sit up, find glasses, and then look at her. Tori, by the way, continues to want to spend most of the night not in our bed. Dunno why, but she's happier with more space.

I have a million other things to mention, but I'm too tired to weave them all together. So enjoy the short-attention-span-mindjumping that follows.

______________________________________

The new pediatrician is awesome. She didn't wear a white coat, which I think is great. She looks like a hippie, which I love, and laughed at our jokes, which is critical. Since she's a lactation consultant, she gave some great advice about nursing. She also gave me a nipple shield, which made Tori latch for about two days. Now she won't latch to that either. Maybe I smell funny? Seeing the ped again on Wednesday for a full-on lactation consultation.

I'm slowly but surely developing some preferences in the nursing/pumping department. I'm going to discuss it with the ped and I'll let you know. Cause I just know you are absolutely dying to know what I'm going to do, aren't you? Sigh.

___________________________________________

I am happy to be able to say goodbye to all of this:

God, it's good to not feel like a sick person anymore.

__________________________________________

The other day Charlie looked at Tori and said, very seriously, "You know how much I love you? More than all the spots on all the ladybugs in all the world."

Whoever she ends up dating is gonna have BIG shoes to fill.

__________________________________________

Being a mother (ha!) has made television a fucking minefield. I find myself crying at things constantly. Law and Order is nearly impossible to watch because there are way too many children involved and way too many parents weeping. My favorite show, gone just like that. CSI is easier, thank god. I have to have some crime shit to watch.

_________________________________________

It's been over three weeks since I've seen a movie in a theater. I think I'm in withdrawal.

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Tori is already changing so fast. Her scrawny little old man legs are filling out (she's up a pound since we left the hospital), and she now has a double chin (just one more chin and she'll be just like mom!). Her hair is still all there, but is maybe just a touch lighter and is definitely longer and the ends are attempting to curl. She stares at stuff quite seriously now, and has at least two periods of quiet alert time a day. Her eyes are no longer a slate grey, but are now a deep, deep blue (I know they'll change more--looking at Charlie's baby photos I see he didn't get his pale green/blue eyes until he was a year old) and her eyelashes are much longer. She still isn't much of a crier--the only thing she really hates is the cold baby wipes (yes, I know there are wipe warmers. But they seem so silly and excessive). She's become rather chatty, using grunts, coos, squeaks and chirps to entertain herself (and us).

And she absolutely loves this. Was it Julie that called it baby crack? So, so true. I only wish that it had a setting for music and lights that lasted longer than ten minutes, because you just cannot give a decent blow job in such a short amount of time.

Here's today picture of Tori. Caption: Drunk on breast milk!

Unfit

It turns out I'm a terrible mother.

First off, for about four hours yesterday, I was totally and completely done with the whole baby thing. Seriously. And why, yes, I AM a totally ungrateful bitch. Just for the record.

Charlie had gone to his mom's (she has Alzheimer's, so he goes out a few days a week to help her out), and I needed to pee really, really badly, and the baby (notice how she becomes "the baby" when I'm having a hard time) refused to be set down without crying. Well, not crying, really, but kvetching. She never really cries (ungrateful bitch! that's me!).

Plus, after three days blood free, I started bleeding again. And I bled on the god damned couch (God bless hydrogen peroxide--cleaned it right up). And I was out of real pads and only had panty liners left that lasted for a total of twenty-five seconds. Each. And my head hurt. And I wanted to eat something, but couldn't put the baby (again with "the baby") down long enough.

So I did her noon feeding, and I decided we would go up to bed and nap. If I couldn't eat or pee, at least I could nap.

We got up just as Charlie got home, and I gave him the baby and told him I needed a break. Even though he had a ton of work to do.

One toilet session and lunch later, I felt much better. Plus I broke down and took a pain pill, figuring that since I was having trouble standing upright without feeling like I'd been stabbed, it would be ok (I had to call and ask for more meds. Of course, I hadn't let Dr. Mama send me home with the normal amount. I tried to find out if there was a non-narcotic option, but there really wasn't, so now I'm rationing out my pain pills like crazy because I AM AN ADDICT and I'm terribly, terribly afraid of them). Within an hour or so, I was able to pick up Tori and cuddle her again, and I even realized that I'd missed her.

Please, please tell me this was hormonal and not the start of Post Partum Depression.

The rest of the day went fine. We went for a walk, and I mastered (sort of) the Maya Wrap for Tori which made the walk much less stressful on my lower back. We even added two blocks to the walk (yeah!).

Charlie and I have worked out the nighttime feedings pretty well (since the baby still won't latch, I don't have to be up for all of them). I do 9pm, then start the going to bed process around 10 or 11. Charlie does midnight, then brings Tori to bed (although Tori has been preferring the bassinet to co-sleeping the last few days; and yes, that noise you heard was my heart breaking). I do 3am (I pump then too). Charlie does 6am. We both usually get up for the 9am feeding. And, yes, Tori wakes up to eat exactly every three hours. She has her father's sense of time.

Last night during our 3am feeding, I had proof once that I am a horrible mother.

For some reason, the bottle got stopped up. I figured it was a lump of formula or something, so I extracted the bottle from Tori's I-wish-I-had-a-vacuum-with-that-kind-of-suction mouth to check it out.

It wasn't a lump of formula. It was a motherfucking ANT.

Now, we've had an ant issue in our kitchen since we bought this house. We've tried traps. We've tried to keep it spotlessly clean (HAHAHAHAHAhaha ug). Nothing seems to help. We are both resistant to the idea of spraying down our kitchen with some sort of toxic chemical, because of the pets, and now of course THE BABY.

But I thought we were keeping the ants out of her stuff. I really did.

At least she didn't actually swallow the ant, right?

Just call Child Protective Services now.

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Thank you all for the compliments on the new photo. Sarah, of course, amazing photographer that she is, took it. We're thinking of using it for our birth announcement.

Moxie asked how Hammer is doing with the baby. I'm not sure.

We've worked hard to make sure that he still gets to do his favorite things every day--take a walk, chew tennis balls, be silly on the people bed, that sort of thing. But he seems to be in a state of resigned sadness.

We think it might be Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Perhaps his previous owners tossed him on the street after they had kids (I found Hammer in March of 2000 on the streets starved nearly to death) or something like that. We'll never know, of course.

When he sees the baby, he sniffs her and kisses her and wags his tail at her. But when we walk around holding her, his eyes following us are filled with grief. It's terrible.

I'm hoping it will pass. After all, it's only been two weeks... and we'll never get rid of him. EVER. So perhaps he'll adjust eventually.

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Thank you all for encouraging us to get a new pediatrician. At first it seemed like too much work, but then Dianne (if you have a blog Dianne, let me know and I'll link it!) told me about a doc in my area that also is a lactation consultant. So we have our first appointment with her today.

I'm gonna ask her how soon we can go camping. Heh. Told you I was a terrible mom.

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Here is today's photo of Tori--and proof that she is basically unharmed, unless you consider using a binky harm (blame the hospital--we had no plans to give her one but they gave it to her during her 'car seat test' and now she's addicted. But the "happiest baby on the block" book says it's ok, so there):

Bliss

God, I just love not working. The days slide by with a kind of liquid feel, each one just a pleasant series of feedings and changings and saying, "Oh! That's my favorite face so far!"

It's nearly unbearably wonderful.

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On my third day in the hospital, Dr. Dismissive happened to be the guy doing rounds. We saw him coming, and prepared ourselves. But he still managed to shock me.

He asked how I was doing, and before I even finished my answer he said, "So, have you thought about getting your tubes tied?"

Now, obviously, pregnancy and I don't get along. My pregnancy abilities are so horrible that they've managed to kill two out of three babies AND tried to kill me both times (you never want a doctor to have to say to your husband "We've managed to get ahead of the bleeding.").

But is that the best possible way he could have started that conversation? Perhaps something more like, "So, what are your future plans? Do you want more children?" or "Have you considered having other children?"

Or maybe he could have looked at our chart for ten seconds and seen that we required IVF with ICSI to get pregnant, and our chances of a "natural" pregnancy are less than nil, and not brought it up at all.

He could have also decided to keep his fucking mouth shut since he's not our primary doctor, and, in fact, we specifically requested that he be removed from our prenatal rotation. Which I know he knows.

But Charlie and I were both feeling so blessed and happy that we just laughed and laughed at his question. He looked perplexed, and then I assured him that we don't plan to have more children. He asked about birth control, and we laughed more. We'll either use condoms (ha!) or just utilize all the great info I've learned about monitoring my cycle to prevent any future pregnancies.

But seriously. Why such an asshole? Why suggest a surgical fucking procedure as a birth control method right out of the gate? And, why be sexist about it? Why not suggest a vasectomy for Charlie?

I am so glad I never have to go to that office again.

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And now... pictures!