This day, February 13, has come to be meaningful for our little family, because it was the day two years ago that we said goodbye to our first tiny son. He was not with us very long -- I carried him for about 11 weeks, and two of those were after we discovered his heart was no longer beating -- but he had a huge impact on our lives. We mourned his loss deeply then and remember him with sadness even now.
This year, our gift in his memory is to give him a name. His name has already been written in the Book of Life, as are the names of all of the holy innocents, but we wish to inscribe it here on earth, because we are his Mommy and Daddy, and always will be.
So, today we name him Zachary Julian. We selected his names from the names of Orthodox saints commemorated in the weeks surrounding his passing. "Zachary" is for the holy prophet Zechariah, whose prophetic ministry is described both in the Old Testament books of Ezra and Zechariah. His prophecies proclaim the coming, and second coming, of Christ, which is our true and only hope. The name Zachary means "The Lord remembers," which we affirm to be true of all of His children, including our little Zachary; the whole world may forget, but the Lord remembers His own. His middle name, Julian, means "youthful". Julian is also the name of the town where we honeymooned, so it evokes very special memories for us and is a reminder of our love for each other.
Life is a gift, no matter how short, how small, or how insignificant it may seem. Life is something to celebrate... and to honor. So, today we celebrate the life of our little Zachary.
Memory Eternal!
P.S. - Most parents who experience early miscarriage never know why a baby was lost or whether it was a boy or a girl, so we consider ourselves fortunate to know that Zachary was male and why he didn't survive. What we knew within a few weeks of his loss is that he had a condition called "triploidy," which means that he had a full extra set of chromosomes. The pregnancy was further challenged by an abnormal placenta due to what is known as a partial (or incomplete) molar pregnancy. By the time we had the first ultrasound at 9 weeks, Zachary's heart was not beating. While learning about his genetic condition didn't make it any easier to go through the loss at the time (in fact, it even made it a bit more scary because of the small risk of cancer that goes with molar pregnancy), and while it took me almost two years to finally ask about his gender, we consider it a gift now to have anything that helps us to understand him, and his loss, better.
Why name a child who didn't live long enough to be born? We think there are lots of reasons, many of which are articulated on this website: Naming the Child. We believe the site is a beautiful resource for those who have lost a child to miscarriage, stillbirth and infant death. We found it just a few days after finding out that the baby we lost was a boy and deciding to name him, which we are sure was not an accident!
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The meaning of Mom
I was still in that murky mist of thought that follows deep sleep when I awoke this morning to the sound of little babblings from the co-sleeper next to me. I rolled over and saw a cherubic face smiling back at me. I could not help but smile myself. It took a few moments before I began to think clearly, and I delighted anew in that smile, because a brief interlude from the nighttime rose through the fog to my conscious mind.
Sometime in the early morning hours I had awoken to a frightened cry. Ian doesn't usually wake and cry in the night, although he sometimes whines or fusses for a few moments, so this was a different experience. Motherly instinct took over immediately, and I reached over to him, lifted him onto my bed where I could hold him, cooed at him and cuddled him and wondered what terror had assailed him in his sleep. He settled back to sleep quickly, so I returned him to his own bed and drifted back to sleep myself, musing on what sort of fears might plague such a tiny child.
Last night I watched part of the PBS adaptation of Jane Austen's Emma. I was struck by one line, spoken by Emma's chronically fretful father: "You do not know what it is to fear until you have had a child." I laughed and repeated the line to Daniel, but not because it was funny so much as because it rings true. I'm sometimes nearly as fretful as that beleaguered gentleman is, but I'm grateful not to know the truth of his words better than I do, because so much of parenting seems to be the struggle between faith and fear -- the one the result of trusting God and his providence, the other a result of trusting (and mistrusting) myself. God has been exceptionally gracious to us, because if the worst things we have had to worry about in 6 months have been a low-grade fever and a somewhat lopsided skull, I have been given the most gentle introduction to motherhood that I can imagine.
I have my moments. I had one a few days ago when I was besieged by the full weight of what it means to have a baby who needs to be cared for at all times. I was angry and frustrated, because I could not do something I wanted to do, and I could not figure out how to make it work out. Daniel was able to participate, and I was stuck being mom. To be fair, Daniel would have been willing to do daddy duty so I could take his place, but I knew how much he wanted to do it, so I felt it was right to give him the opportunity. So, there I was, resenting Daniel's relative freedom, feeling trapped by my own guilt and selfish will, and unable to come up with some way to make my inconvenience disappear. To top it off, I had the presence of mind to be absolutely disgusted by how selfish and unreasonable I was being. It was an awful feeling.
I had to sit myself down and have a moment of reflection:
This is what I signed up for. This just is what being a wife and mother means. It doesn't meant that I never get to do what I want to do -- nothing as dramatic as all that -- but it means that I have the opportunity to sacrifice my own desires to give to those I love. It is a gift, not a burden. It is ridiculous to even want my life to be any other way. After all, if the daily annoyances of not having complete autonomy are the only price I pay for having such a dear husband and son, then my cross is light indeed. The blessings are far greater, even when I'm at wit's end and have run out of "me" to give. That is because the real gift is God's love, and I am asked only to be open enough that I may be a conduit.
Ah, love! I'm beginning to understand more keenly what people mean when they say that they fall in love with someone more every day. There is something so beautiful about watching a helpless infant transform before your eyes into a little person with likes, dislikes, his own sense of humor and justice, and his own mind, which is captivated by the world around him and so open to new experiences. The more I know him, the more I love him. The more I love him, the more I want to cling to every moment and treasure it in my heart.
I heard a radio story on NPR about a week ago about the passage of time, especially how it seems to move so much more quickly as we age. Apparently there are more reasons for this than just our own increasing awareness of our mortality. In short, whenever the mind experiences something new, it catalogs the new information rather thoroughly, so that it merely has to revisit the stored data when another experience of the same type comes along. It makes the experience of youth nuanced, detailed and rich, because everything has the sheen of newness. For this little baby, every moment brings that freshness, and his mind is compiling like crazy. For an older person, who has learned the truth of the assertion that there is "nothing new under the sun," there is simply less to file away about the world, so memories become simpler, and the good old days seem somehow more beautiful than the day-to-day cares of adult life. I suppose this is why travel makes such an impression on us, no matter our ages: we give our brains the opportunity to process something full of new details, and our brains rev up again to capture it all.
How lovely it is to be given the opportunity to watch the world unfold in his life as I near what is likely to be the middle of my own. It gives me a whole new set of moments to catalog, like what it is to see your child taste his first solid food, what a delight it is to observe his raptures with a new toy, and what a thrill it is to do simple things, like watching him take a peaceful impromptu nap on the floor.
These moments are so sweet, yet so fleeting. I hope that my mind will catalog these moments with all of the freshness and importance they have in my heart, because they are, indeed, precious, and they give such rich meaning to my life as "Mommy".
Sometime in the early morning hours I had awoken to a frightened cry. Ian doesn't usually wake and cry in the night, although he sometimes whines or fusses for a few moments, so this was a different experience. Motherly instinct took over immediately, and I reached over to him, lifted him onto my bed where I could hold him, cooed at him and cuddled him and wondered what terror had assailed him in his sleep. He settled back to sleep quickly, so I returned him to his own bed and drifted back to sleep myself, musing on what sort of fears might plague such a tiny child.
Last night I watched part of the PBS adaptation of Jane Austen's Emma. I was struck by one line, spoken by Emma's chronically fretful father: "You do not know what it is to fear until you have had a child." I laughed and repeated the line to Daniel, but not because it was funny so much as because it rings true. I'm sometimes nearly as fretful as that beleaguered gentleman is, but I'm grateful not to know the truth of his words better than I do, because so much of parenting seems to be the struggle between faith and fear -- the one the result of trusting God and his providence, the other a result of trusting (and mistrusting) myself. God has been exceptionally gracious to us, because if the worst things we have had to worry about in 6 months have been a low-grade fever and a somewhat lopsided skull, I have been given the most gentle introduction to motherhood that I can imagine.
I have my moments. I had one a few days ago when I was besieged by the full weight of what it means to have a baby who needs to be cared for at all times. I was angry and frustrated, because I could not do something I wanted to do, and I could not figure out how to make it work out. Daniel was able to participate, and I was stuck being mom. To be fair, Daniel would have been willing to do daddy duty so I could take his place, but I knew how much he wanted to do it, so I felt it was right to give him the opportunity. So, there I was, resenting Daniel's relative freedom, feeling trapped by my own guilt and selfish will, and unable to come up with some way to make my inconvenience disappear. To top it off, I had the presence of mind to be absolutely disgusted by how selfish and unreasonable I was being. It was an awful feeling.
I had to sit myself down and have a moment of reflection:
This is what I signed up for. This just is what being a wife and mother means. It doesn't meant that I never get to do what I want to do -- nothing as dramatic as all that -- but it means that I have the opportunity to sacrifice my own desires to give to those I love. It is a gift, not a burden. It is ridiculous to even want my life to be any other way. After all, if the daily annoyances of not having complete autonomy are the only price I pay for having such a dear husband and son, then my cross is light indeed. The blessings are far greater, even when I'm at wit's end and have run out of "me" to give. That is because the real gift is God's love, and I am asked only to be open enough that I may be a conduit.
Ah, love! I'm beginning to understand more keenly what people mean when they say that they fall in love with someone more every day. There is something so beautiful about watching a helpless infant transform before your eyes into a little person with likes, dislikes, his own sense of humor and justice, and his own mind, which is captivated by the world around him and so open to new experiences. The more I know him, the more I love him. The more I love him, the more I want to cling to every moment and treasure it in my heart.
I heard a radio story on NPR about a week ago about the passage of time, especially how it seems to move so much more quickly as we age. Apparently there are more reasons for this than just our own increasing awareness of our mortality. In short, whenever the mind experiences something new, it catalogs the new information rather thoroughly, so that it merely has to revisit the stored data when another experience of the same type comes along. It makes the experience of youth nuanced, detailed and rich, because everything has the sheen of newness. For this little baby, every moment brings that freshness, and his mind is compiling like crazy. For an older person, who has learned the truth of the assertion that there is "nothing new under the sun," there is simply less to file away about the world, so memories become simpler, and the good old days seem somehow more beautiful than the day-to-day cares of adult life. I suppose this is why travel makes such an impression on us, no matter our ages: we give our brains the opportunity to process something full of new details, and our brains rev up again to capture it all.
How lovely it is to be given the opportunity to watch the world unfold in his life as I near what is likely to be the middle of my own. It gives me a whole new set of moments to catalog, like what it is to see your child taste his first solid food, what a delight it is to observe his raptures with a new toy, and what a thrill it is to do simple things, like watching him take a peaceful impromptu nap on the floor.
These moments are so sweet, yet so fleeting. I hope that my mind will catalog these moments with all of the freshness and importance they have in my heart, because they are, indeed, precious, and they give such rich meaning to my life as "Mommy".
First tastes of sweet potato
An impromptu nap
Friday, February 5, 2010
You say that to all the moms...
I've made appointments for Ian to see two specialists so that we have some guidance and know whether treating his skull deformity is advised. I have really mixed feeling about this sort of thing. On the one hand, some people believe it is only cosmetic, and if the specialists agree, we will probably leave well enough alone. On the other, there are neurological problems that can result, and the window of opportunity to treat is growing smaller as he ages. I don't like this.
What I do like is the other thing I was told at Ian's appointment on Wednesday.
"Oh my gosh, he's so cute."
And, again
"He's sooooo cute."
The girl checking us in said it about 3 or 4 times before I said,
"Well, thank you, but I bet you see a lot of cute kids in here."
She replied, "We see a lot of kids. You could say that much."
"No, really, he's so cute!"
I think so -- flat, lopsided head or no! It's nice when someone else agrees... even if she does say it to all the moms.
P.S. - I added a couple of photos from his 6 mo. birthday. Poor little guy was feverish and sad and needing extra cuddles. He's doing much better now.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Six month update
Ian's doctor visit yesterday was rather stressful for his Mommy (and he wasn't a big fan either). Not only did he get his 6 month inoculations and flu shots (the flu shots mainly because there is some possibility of daycare in his near future), but we also got the news that a referral to a non-surgical treatment provider for deformational brachy/plagio-cephaly would not go amiss. The doctor sees a bit of facial deformity, which isn't too bad, but that and the flatness on the back of his head will not resolve on their own. This is after months of doing our very best to keep him from putting pressure on the back of his head, so it is a bit disappointing that we were not more successful. The doctor's informal opinion is that it shouldn't cause auditory or visual problems, but he thinks we'd do well to have Ian evaluated by specialists. The other concern he did not address is whether the deformation is likely to cause other neurological difficulties -- some studies indicate a risk.
So, our poor baby spent the evening fussing and feverish, and we're waiting to hear from the referral specialist at the doctor's office about when we can go get Ian evaluated. The worst part about this is that I know our insurance coverage only extends to about 1/7 of the cost of the treatment if it is determined that the problem is positional, and it's rather costly. I think it will come down to how severe the specialists believe his case to be and whether we can get funding for the treatment. Treatment, by the way, is a helmet that would have to be worn for a few to several months. You can see, perhaps, why this is a rather difficult subject to think about.
In other news, he continues to be growing appropriately: 75th percentile weight, 50th percentile length and 25th percentile cranium, which is pretty much what he has been for the last few visits. He's been incredibly healthy, and I suppose if need for a helmet is the worst of his problems, we don't have much to complain about.
No news yet on the job front... and we're doing well otherwise. Pray for us when it comes time to decide what to do about Ian's skull and, if necessary, how to handle work-related decisions.
P.S. - I have a few pictures from his day to post, but I shall have to add them later, because I believe he has awoken. Time to check that temperature!
So, our poor baby spent the evening fussing and feverish, and we're waiting to hear from the referral specialist at the doctor's office about when we can go get Ian evaluated. The worst part about this is that I know our insurance coverage only extends to about 1/7 of the cost of the treatment if it is determined that the problem is positional, and it's rather costly. I think it will come down to how severe the specialists believe his case to be and whether we can get funding for the treatment. Treatment, by the way, is a helmet that would have to be worn for a few to several months. You can see, perhaps, why this is a rather difficult subject to think about.
In other news, he continues to be growing appropriately: 75th percentile weight, 50th percentile length and 25th percentile cranium, which is pretty much what he has been for the last few visits. He's been incredibly healthy, and I suppose if need for a helmet is the worst of his problems, we don't have much to complain about.
No news yet on the job front... and we're doing well otherwise. Pray for us when it comes time to decide what to do about Ian's skull and, if necessary, how to handle work-related decisions.
P.S. - I have a few pictures from his day to post, but I shall have to add them later, because I believe he has awoken. Time to check that temperature!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Have tooth will giggle
I remain amazed at how beautifully serene our little guy is. Even though he has clearly been teething, as evidenced by the tiny tooth which now graces the left side of his jaw, he has still been a very pleasant boy. I have noticed a slight upswing in fussiness, but it is hardly worth mentioning. Daniel and I feel so incredibly blessed to have been eased into parenthood by such a gentle soul.
Ian's favorite activities these days are bouncing, bouncing and bouncing. He loves his Jumperoo and his door-hanging jumper. They are a Godsend for me since we've been working so hard to keep him off of the back of his head when he is awake. Having jumping toys means I can put him down while I cook or do other things that don't allow for baby holding very easily and he is entertained. It seems to have instilled in him the beginnings of cause-and-effect reasoning, since he tries to make himself bounce in other situations as well.
Our trip to the grocery store in advance of the snowstorm that came through Friday night comes to mind; he had tired of sitting in the kiddie seat portion of the cart, so I held him over the seat in a standing position while we waited in line. He bounced, with my hands serving as his supports. One nice feature of the bouncing is that it tends to tire him out. By the time we got to the register (someone had coupons and rain checks and I think we were in line for about 20 minutes), he was sleeping with his head on my shoulder. He was so sweet that I (uncharacteristically) asked for help out to the car so that I could leave him sleeping there as long as possible!
Last Sunday Ian also tried to bounce his way through liturgy. I held him to my chest, facing forward, as is his preference, and he rhythmically moved his body forward and back, which was the best approximation of bouncing he could muster with his legs immobilized. I tried to retain both my dignity and my balance as the service progressed and some of the men across from us in the choir shot us bemused smiles. It was rather cute, if I do say so myself.
Ian is still eating nature's best baby food about 95% of the time. I've had to give him formula occasionally for various reasons, and we've offered him some rice cereal at dinnertime, but we're not in any hurry to vary his diet too much. We'll talk to the doctor in a few days when he has his 6 month check-up to see how he suggests we introduce more solids. When we do begin solids, I know I want to make the food myself. It's kind of fun to think about what I can do and which foods I am most anxious to see him try.
The biggest news, in that it could be the most life-changing for all of us, is that I have had an interview for a job that I believe would fit me very well. Working while mothering a small child is not my ideal in a perfect world, but it is a practical choice in the real one, and one that Daniel and I have been talking about quite a lot lately. Our hope and prayer is that we will find a safe, affordable daycare situation and that I will find, if I am to work, a well-paying job that is an excellent fit for me so that my enjoyment of the job will offset in part the sadness that comes when I contemplate leaving my baby in childcare so that I can contribute to family financial solvency. Some of the promising things about this particular job are a degree of flexibility with working from home when necessary, a 35-hour work week, a staff with a fairly large number of young mothers and work that I am confident I can do well.
Prayers are appreciated as we figure out what the future holds. I have taken some short videos to share and will post them soon. Right now, I am long overdue for bed!
Night night!
Ian's favorite activities these days are bouncing, bouncing and bouncing. He loves his Jumperoo and his door-hanging jumper. They are a Godsend for me since we've been working so hard to keep him off of the back of his head when he is awake. Having jumping toys means I can put him down while I cook or do other things that don't allow for baby holding very easily and he is entertained. It seems to have instilled in him the beginnings of cause-and-effect reasoning, since he tries to make himself bounce in other situations as well.
Our trip to the grocery store in advance of the snowstorm that came through Friday night comes to mind; he had tired of sitting in the kiddie seat portion of the cart, so I held him over the seat in a standing position while we waited in line. He bounced, with my hands serving as his supports. One nice feature of the bouncing is that it tends to tire him out. By the time we got to the register (someone had coupons and rain checks and I think we were in line for about 20 minutes), he was sleeping with his head on my shoulder. He was so sweet that I (uncharacteristically) asked for help out to the car so that I could leave him sleeping there as long as possible!
Last Sunday Ian also tried to bounce his way through liturgy. I held him to my chest, facing forward, as is his preference, and he rhythmically moved his body forward and back, which was the best approximation of bouncing he could muster with his legs immobilized. I tried to retain both my dignity and my balance as the service progressed and some of the men across from us in the choir shot us bemused smiles. It was rather cute, if I do say so myself.
Ian is still eating nature's best baby food about 95% of the time. I've had to give him formula occasionally for various reasons, and we've offered him some rice cereal at dinnertime, but we're not in any hurry to vary his diet too much. We'll talk to the doctor in a few days when he has his 6 month check-up to see how he suggests we introduce more solids. When we do begin solids, I know I want to make the food myself. It's kind of fun to think about what I can do and which foods I am most anxious to see him try.
The biggest news, in that it could be the most life-changing for all of us, is that I have had an interview for a job that I believe would fit me very well. Working while mothering a small child is not my ideal in a perfect world, but it is a practical choice in the real one, and one that Daniel and I have been talking about quite a lot lately. Our hope and prayer is that we will find a safe, affordable daycare situation and that I will find, if I am to work, a well-paying job that is an excellent fit for me so that my enjoyment of the job will offset in part the sadness that comes when I contemplate leaving my baby in childcare so that I can contribute to family financial solvency. Some of the promising things about this particular job are a degree of flexibility with working from home when necessary, a 35-hour work week, a staff with a fairly large number of young mothers and work that I am confident I can do well.
Prayers are appreciated as we figure out what the future holds. I have taken some short videos to share and will post them soon. Right now, I am long overdue for bed!
Night night!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
I don't expect you to understand...
... but I thought I would share, for those of you who do.
Skip to the next post if you are just looking for a more generic update!
I finally contacted my old OB's office last week to ask for the report that was generated when we lost our first pregnancy. The baby was a triploidy XXY boy, which means he had an entire extra set of haploid chromosomes, a condition that causes profound abnormalities. Triploidy is believed to account for about 17% of miscarriages, and triploidy babies who do survive until live birth do not survive for very long. The longest-lived triploidy child on record lived for 10 1/2 months.
I'm not writing this to be dramatic or morbid, but because this recent decision marks an important change in my heart. We lost him almost exactly two years ago, and quite early in the pregnancy. I knew about the triploidy from about 6 weeks after the sad events, but I did not know his gender. I think it was too painful at first to think of that loss in terms of having lost a son or daughter, however unusual his chromosomes. All of the fears of the partial molar pregnancy and the anguish of the process overwhelmed me, and it was all just too much.
Now, looking back, it seems merciful that he did not live longer, both for his sake and for mine. It's only now I am more grateful for his short presence with me than I am saddened by his loss, and, while I would have loved him and wanted him in any condition, I am glad he didn't suffer all of the agonies of a short life in a broken body.
Now that we know he was a boy, there are new possibilities. We haven't named him yet, but we are thinking about doing that, since we are firmly convinced that any life, no matter how short, is worth celebrating and remembering, even if we are the only ones who know or care about him. We know his gender, something most parents who have lost a baby so early do not know, so I feel a certain responsibility to somehow use and honor that knowledge.
He was a special part of our lives and brought incredible joy for the few weeks he lived in me. He ushered me into motherhood, but left the rest of the job of breaking me in to Ian, opting to take God up on his offer to sing in the heavenly choir.
Not a bad idea, if you ask me.
Skip to the next post if you are just looking for a more generic update!
I finally contacted my old OB's office last week to ask for the report that was generated when we lost our first pregnancy. The baby was a triploidy XXY boy, which means he had an entire extra set of haploid chromosomes, a condition that causes profound abnormalities. Triploidy is believed to account for about 17% of miscarriages, and triploidy babies who do survive until live birth do not survive for very long. The longest-lived triploidy child on record lived for 10 1/2 months.
I'm not writing this to be dramatic or morbid, but because this recent decision marks an important change in my heart. We lost him almost exactly two years ago, and quite early in the pregnancy. I knew about the triploidy from about 6 weeks after the sad events, but I did not know his gender. I think it was too painful at first to think of that loss in terms of having lost a son or daughter, however unusual his chromosomes. All of the fears of the partial molar pregnancy and the anguish of the process overwhelmed me, and it was all just too much.
Now, looking back, it seems merciful that he did not live longer, both for his sake and for mine. It's only now I am more grateful for his short presence with me than I am saddened by his loss, and, while I would have loved him and wanted him in any condition, I am glad he didn't suffer all of the agonies of a short life in a broken body.
Now that we know he was a boy, there are new possibilities. We haven't named him yet, but we are thinking about doing that, since we are firmly convinced that any life, no matter how short, is worth celebrating and remembering, even if we are the only ones who know or care about him. We know his gender, something most parents who have lost a baby so early do not know, so I feel a certain responsibility to somehow use and honor that knowledge.
He was a special part of our lives and brought incredible joy for the few weeks he lived in me. He ushered me into motherhood, but left the rest of the job of breaking me in to Ian, opting to take God up on his offer to sing in the heavenly choir.
Not a bad idea, if you ask me.
Remember us?
Hello again! It has been a long time, as some of you have reminded me. I thought I would actually use this space again today to provide a few Ian updates and photos. With any luck, I will eventually press "publish" and you, dear reader, will see the fruits of my renewed labors.
A lot has happened since I last updated... a Thanksgiving-time trip to Williamsburg, Christmas at home, a visit with the Steve Johnsons at New Years and several new developments from Ian, who seems intent on growing up.
Where to begin? I'm going to buck the wisdom of Maria von Trapp and start at the end, largely because I find it so exciting. Today I put Ian down on the floor on his tummy while I was pumping his breakfast, and when I looked back at him after checking on my progress, I found him on his back. This is huge! A few weeks ago, I "taught" him that rolling over was possible by rolling him onto his tummy with one arm under him and then helping him to roll right back. As recently as last night he could not, however, roll over at will, and he became quite frustrated with his abortive attempts. He seems to have figured it out now, though, because he has managed to roll over entirely unassisted four times so far today, and he can do it when he decides not to melt down instead. I got the fourth time on camera:
Yesterday brought another milestone. We launched a program of eating dinner together around the table, now that we have a sturdy table and chairs and a booster seat for Ian. Those were procured this weekend from a consignment outfit and Target, respectively. The table and chairs are 70s-vintage, solid pieces that have the potential to last another 30 years, and while they perhaps lack a little something in the aesthetics department, they work perfectly for us and the price was right (cheap). Ian's dinner consisted of his usual milk in a bowl with a spoon. He did pretty well with the spoon concept (you might say he's had practice with spoon-feeding at communion at church), but he doesn't really like the experience since it lacks the efficiency of a bottle. In order to not frustrate him completely, after about 15 spoonfuls we put the rest in a bottle and let him finish up the usual way.
(Here we pause for baby comforting and play)
Now, to backtrack a bit. We've established a bedtime routine for Ian--bath, book, bottle, banana brush, blessing and bed (more on the banana brush in a moment)--and he now goes to bed quite nicely at his appointed hour. He usually doesn't even cry if he has his pacifier, and he falls asleep within 5 or 10 minutes. He has a somewhat later bedtime than he will have in a year or two, but it works nicely for us now. We have time together as a family in the evening, then he goes to bed. He sleeps until about 8 am, and the grown-ups, who still go to bed really late, actually have some time to ourselves after he goes to sleep.
About that banana brush... we've had lots of drooling and some fussing that would seem to indicate that some teeth are in the works. No breakthroughs yet. In preparation for the great tooth eruption, we have procured a baby banana brush (a silicone training toothbrush that just happens to be in a banana shape) that we use to get him used to the idea of brushing his teeth. He seems to like it... and it's kind of cute. :)
Ian was baptized in late October during a visit from his Grandma and Grandpa on mommy's side, as well as his two aunties (Erin and Angie), his uncle Jon and his cousins Talia and TBA (who is not yet visible as more than a bump). Ian and Mommy and the rest of the extended family went down to Charleston for a few days, which meant Ian's first visit to another state. The visit was very enjoyable for us! Pictures from all of this activity are on the other computer, so I will try to put them up later. To assuage you, I offer kitty and kiddy napping together. The kitties are discouraged from getting in and on Ian's things, but once in a while the results of kitty defiance are too cute to disrupt immediately.
Ian picked up a new state - Virginia - over Thanksgiving. It was the sort of trip we are almost able to laugh at now, but at the time it was almost more stressful than it was enjoyable. Having a baby who requires tons of gear (much of it milk pumping/storage supplies) made for a stuffed-to-the-gills car, and the site-seeing was minimal just because it took so much out of us to get ready to go for the day, and everything we needed for the day tended to have to be carried with us. Backs groaned and stress grew and unforecasted sleet fell and we had a bit of the sort of luck Daniel's brother Steve seems to enjoy -- almost comically bad. You know what they say, though, "What doesn't kill you...", well, in this case, it just kills your wanderlust for a while. That said, it was worth doing. We now just know what it is like to travel with a baby!
We had a pleasant visit with Dan's mom after we got home from the trip. We didn't do much, but it was much less stressful than the trip, we enjoyed her company, and we think Ian's grandma rather enjoyed Ian. :)
Christmas was quiet at home with just the three of us. It was quite nice. The grown-ups opened gifts in the wee hours of Christmas morning in order to take advantage of quiet time while Ian was sleeping to have Christmas ourselves. Once Ian awoke, we opened his presents with him, which took hours on its own. He was not hurting in the gifts department, and we have lots of people to thank for that!
We had a lot of fun visiting with Steve, Jayne, Thomas and Paul over New Years. Most of the visit was spent in a low-key fashion at our place with the help of Bananagrams and Wii. It is fun to see how Ian's cousins have grown into great young men. Paul especially enjoyed Ian, so it was fun to watch them interact.
A slideshow, which includes video of Ian opening one of his Christmas presents, follows:
Ian has started a once-a-month visit to UNCG to participate in a study on the emergence of hand preference in infants. The first visit was fun, as it just meant play and a $10 Target gift card. The card went a lot of the way towards the purchase of his booster seat.
It's time for Ian's bottle and he has tired of helping me type, so I had best sign off. I will probably add some photos and video later, so check back if you managed to see this in the unadorned version.
Until then, we hope you are all enjoying a wonderful 2010!
A lot has happened since I last updated... a Thanksgiving-time trip to Williamsburg, Christmas at home, a visit with the Steve Johnsons at New Years and several new developments from Ian, who seems intent on growing up.
Where to begin? I'm going to buck the wisdom of Maria von Trapp and start at the end, largely because I find it so exciting. Today I put Ian down on the floor on his tummy while I was pumping his breakfast, and when I looked back at him after checking on my progress, I found him on his back. This is huge! A few weeks ago, I "taught" him that rolling over was possible by rolling him onto his tummy with one arm under him and then helping him to roll right back. As recently as last night he could not, however, roll over at will, and he became quite frustrated with his abortive attempts. He seems to have figured it out now, though, because he has managed to roll over entirely unassisted four times so far today, and he can do it when he decides not to melt down instead. I got the fourth time on camera:
Yesterday brought another milestone. We launched a program of eating dinner together around the table, now that we have a sturdy table and chairs and a booster seat for Ian. Those were procured this weekend from a consignment outfit and Target, respectively. The table and chairs are 70s-vintage, solid pieces that have the potential to last another 30 years, and while they perhaps lack a little something in the aesthetics department, they work perfectly for us and the price was right (cheap). Ian's dinner consisted of his usual milk in a bowl with a spoon. He did pretty well with the spoon concept (you might say he's had practice with spoon-feeding at communion at church), but he doesn't really like the experience since it lacks the efficiency of a bottle. In order to not frustrate him completely, after about 15 spoonfuls we put the rest in a bottle and let him finish up the usual way.
(Here we pause for baby comforting and play)
Now, to backtrack a bit. We've established a bedtime routine for Ian--bath, book, bottle, banana brush, blessing and bed (more on the banana brush in a moment)--and he now goes to bed quite nicely at his appointed hour. He usually doesn't even cry if he has his pacifier, and he falls asleep within 5 or 10 minutes. He has a somewhat later bedtime than he will have in a year or two, but it works nicely for us now. We have time together as a family in the evening, then he goes to bed. He sleeps until about 8 am, and the grown-ups, who still go to bed really late, actually have some time to ourselves after he goes to sleep.
About that banana brush... we've had lots of drooling and some fussing that would seem to indicate that some teeth are in the works. No breakthroughs yet. In preparation for the great tooth eruption, we have procured a baby banana brush (a silicone training toothbrush that just happens to be in a banana shape) that we use to get him used to the idea of brushing his teeth. He seems to like it... and it's kind of cute. :)
Ian was baptized in late October during a visit from his Grandma and Grandpa on mommy's side, as well as his two aunties (Erin and Angie), his uncle Jon and his cousins Talia and TBA (who is not yet visible as more than a bump). Ian and Mommy and the rest of the extended family went down to Charleston for a few days, which meant Ian's first visit to another state. The visit was very enjoyable for us! Pictures from all of this activity are on the other computer, so I will try to put them up later. To assuage you, I offer kitty and kiddy napping together. The kitties are discouraged from getting in and on Ian's things, but once in a while the results of kitty defiance are too cute to disrupt immediately.
Ian picked up a new state - Virginia - over Thanksgiving. It was the sort of trip we are almost able to laugh at now, but at the time it was almost more stressful than it was enjoyable. Having a baby who requires tons of gear (much of it milk pumping/storage supplies) made for a stuffed-to-the-gills car, and the site-seeing was minimal just because it took so much out of us to get ready to go for the day, and everything we needed for the day tended to have to be carried with us. Backs groaned and stress grew and unforecasted sleet fell and we had a bit of the sort of luck Daniel's brother Steve seems to enjoy -- almost comically bad. You know what they say, though, "What doesn't kill you...", well, in this case, it just kills your wanderlust for a while. That said, it was worth doing. We now just know what it is like to travel with a baby!
We had a pleasant visit with Dan's mom after we got home from the trip. We didn't do much, but it was much less stressful than the trip, we enjoyed her company, and we think Ian's grandma rather enjoyed Ian. :)
Christmas was quiet at home with just the three of us. It was quite nice. The grown-ups opened gifts in the wee hours of Christmas morning in order to take advantage of quiet time while Ian was sleeping to have Christmas ourselves. Once Ian awoke, we opened his presents with him, which took hours on its own. He was not hurting in the gifts department, and we have lots of people to thank for that!
We had a lot of fun visiting with Steve, Jayne, Thomas and Paul over New Years. Most of the visit was spent in a low-key fashion at our place with the help of Bananagrams and Wii. It is fun to see how Ian's cousins have grown into great young men. Paul especially enjoyed Ian, so it was fun to watch them interact.
A slideshow, which includes video of Ian opening one of his Christmas presents, follows:
Ian has started a once-a-month visit to UNCG to participate in a study on the emergence of hand preference in infants. The first visit was fun, as it just meant play and a $10 Target gift card. The card went a lot of the way towards the purchase of his booster seat.
It's time for Ian's bottle and he has tired of helping me type, so I had best sign off. I will probably add some photos and video later, so check back if you managed to see this in the unadorned version.
Until then, we hope you are all enjoying a wonderful 2010!
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