You are currently browsing the monthly archive for May, 2009.
Each day last an eternity, but the weeks fly.
This is what I came home to yesterday after leaving the house solo for the first time since Max was born.
Despite my worries, they both lived.
I am so very lucky.
You know what I’m doing right now? I’m typing with two hands. I’m also holding Max. He’s asleep.
How am I doing both you ask? I’m wearing him.
Holy moly. I have two hands again.
Max does not like to sleep alone. I either have to hold him or sleep next to him and while this is nice for a nap, there are moments in my day that I would like to, I don’t know, pee or perhaps write or get a glass of juice. And now I can. We’ll see if he likes it when he’s awake, but until then, I’m partying like it’s 1999 only quietly and with my keyboard and a glass of cranberry juice. Well, I’m whooping it up in my head.
So, let me just say now that I’ve shared my two handed typing joy, thank you. Thank you for all the wonderful comments and all the advice. I really like the advice. I need it.
With the colic, we’ve got everything from the drops to the suppositories. We are trying it all. I’ve eliminated all dairy, onions, beans, broccoli, peppers, beef, chicken, garlic and anything with actual flavor from my diet. I’m doing the tortilla and lunch meat thing. We’re picking up a swing this weekend. I have a bouncy seat. And most important, ear plugs.
I’m actually doing okay right now. He seems to have “evening colic”, which while four hours of screaming tires him out so he sleeps ALL NIGHT LONG, mostly. I get up and pump, but I’ve had actual sleep. One day between the night and the afternoon nap I had a whole eight hours in a 24 hr period. Granted, I hadn’t slept for a full 36 hour prior, but that was in the past and I’m looking forward! Eight hours in one day? I felt like a princess. I felt like I had my brain back. I felt like I could talk to Sparky without crying from sheer exhaustion.
The funny thing is, at least for me, is that I feel closer to Max when he’s screaming and I’m holding him than I do when breastfeeding. I’m not a natural BF-er at all. I’m doing it because I think its better for him, but I connect to him more when he’s screaming and needs someone just to tell him they’re there.
I find this weird zen place and can take the noise (if I’ve had enough sleep, this seems to be the key). I just want him to know that I will always be there and I won’t leave him to cry. Yet. When he’s 40, he’ll have to figure it out on his own.
So much for parenting styles, eh?
Colic.
Hope to see you on the other side.
It’s his 2 am feeding. Walking into the living room to sit in our comfy chair for the next hour. It’s quiet and I enjoy his soft skin and big eyes looking up at me. The after-hours bar is open, The Milk Bar. It’s actually always open, but in the wee hours of night, I like to pretend it’s an after-hours club that only those in the know can get into.
With his birth has come the birth of something else. Fear of death. First and foremost his with Sparky and I taking up the next spots. I can’t actually let go of this fear and the more I try not to think about it, the bigger it becomes. So then I think about it and plan for Sparky’s and my demise. Who would take over? How would Max be cared for? Do we have enough life insurance? All good things to think about perhaps once and then talk to a lawyer, but that is not how my brain works.
I have talked to Sparky who listens to my macabre plans, but we don’t actually accomplish anything more than I’m really imaginative at coming up with how we die and scenarios that piss me off if I die first. Do not let Mutti raise Max! Move back to America. Who would care for Max like I would and how do I ensure in the case of my death that he gets everything I want for him?
At 2 am, walking towards that comfy chair, Kiska is sleeping. She’s on her back with her legs, all four, straight up in the air. I pause, waiting for some sort of movement like I do when I can’t hear Max breath. She’s too old to sleep that way. I say her name softly and she stirs, still not moving from the “legs up“ position, mocking my fear, damn cat.
Three a.m. and Max is asleep. Milk-drunk. Once again, The Milk Bar doesn’t disappoint. Good thing he’s got a ride home.
Back to the bedroom and to Sparky. We establish our space again. No pillows, only an empty duvet cover for Sparky and I, Max swaddled in the middle, Sparky at the other end. We’ve got it down. Max isn’t too close, but close enough that I can watch for those breath movements or reach out and touch him when I need to.
I hear a whisper of a breath. It sounds just like the final exhalation of the dead. I look over at Sparky, is he moving? I can’t tell. In a second, I imagine that the headache he had last night was really an aneurysm and he’s just died. The panic wells up in my throat when it hits me. It smells like death, but it was from a completely different part of his anatomy. I cover Max and I for a few minutes while the scent dissipates.
I’m hoping this death thing passes soon. I don’t know if it’s new baby fears or hormones or just my anxiety finally settling down for a long visit. All I know is that cats should be able to sleep unmolested and I really don’t want to live my life being thankful for Sparky’s SBDs.
If I were a prisoner of war, I’d have fourteen scratch marks on the wall. At one point I could count on the Geneva Convention to protect me from sleep deprivation. I’m lucky if I can brush my hair in the morning, let alone my teeth. Make-up? What’s that? My eyes are red rimmed and I’m pale inbetween my iron shots. I look like a test rabbit AFTER the testing. My wardrobe now consists of easy access tank tops. Not for a random feel up as it used to be, but to give the kid easy access. I am now a mom.
I am bone tired. These days I have to chose between eating something other than a cookie, like a meal that has to be cooked or sleep. The last time I had to chose between food or sleep was after a long night at the bars. Did I walk to McDonald’s for a cheeseburger and fries to absorb the alcohol or did I just crash? Do I down a power bar and sleep or make a meal? Who needs taste when sleep is an option?
These days, I’m shoving an entire slice of frozen pizza into my mouth as I dance a fussy infant around the house. Who knew I could FIT an entire slice of pizza in my mouth?
This is fucking hard. I have no idea why people have more than one. I have no idea how the species has survived because if it were up to me, we would have died out thousands of years ago. And you know what? I have no idea what I’m doing. All those books? the info has fled my head. I’m working off pure instinct. I hope we can sufficiently save for Max’s therapy bills because I have a feeling they’ll be expensive.
Breastfeeding is hard. He and I have the latch on down, but the constant kid on my boob is driving me nuts. Then he falls asleep and wants the boob for comfort. I can’t stand the nibbling, but I pull him off and he wakes up screaming. He does not want a pacifier because believe me, after my initial guilt for trying to pawn off the comfort to a synthetic item, I have no qualms now. Yet, he doesn’t want the the binky. He just wants the boob. He hates the binky.
Did I mention the mammoth sized boobs. I have to pump a little before I feed him just so he can get a good latch. It’s only been two weeks. I can’t imagine doing this for another 5.5 months, let alone years. And the pump? Can we just make the udder comparison? The indignity of it all.
That being said, Max is the sweetest smelling little bundle of love I have ever known. He gives me those sweet little smiles (I don’t want to hear it’s just gas. I’m up with him day and night, it doesn’t hurt to think those smiles are just for me.) and I melt. It gives me the ability to stay up another 45 minutes to rock him to sleep even though I’ve had only two hours sleep in the previous 24 hours. My heart breaks into millions of pieces for him. I never knew I could love so much. It’s debilitating.
And my dear friend coffee? Said adios. He went the way of the Dodo. If I drink coffee, Max drinks coffee. I made that mistake once. Easier to say goodbye to Java Joe than to stay up all night with a kiddo on the junk.
I have his birth story simmering. I just need more time to get it all down. Overall the hospital was an absolute nightmare of third world proportions. I’m not even kidding. I have witnesses. I left after 28 hours, no sleep, no attention from hospital staff for either Max or myself and terse phone call to Sparky to get his wife and his son the fuck out after they tried to take him out of the ward, in a car driven by god only knows to another facility to ultrasound his hips not because they thought there was actually anything wrong, but because Jeff and I both have trick hips. I was not allowed to accompany him. It was a big fat “not on your life are you taking my baby ANYWHERE.” He didn’t even have the right name on his wrist band that I had to insist on. And really, it’s not like there is an ultrasound machine in the maternity ward or anything
All I can say is that it was a good thing Max was healthy and the delivery was relatively easy because I have no idea what we would have done if there was a problem. It was so bad that I am still turning the entire situation over in my head. I will never have another kid in Germany.
I went home to my dear auntie and a Sparky who were able to actually hold the baby so I could use the bathroom. A follow up to Dr. G and a pediatrician and Max and I were given a clean bill of health.
In other good news, I am 15 pounds lighter than I was before I got pregnant. I can fit into almost all my pre-pregnancy clothes, save for my Calvins which I’m hoping to get into by 6 weeks. In bad news, I’m even more saggy than I was. So I’d say it was a wash. A good plastic surgeon and I’m good to go.
I’m off to sleep a little. Knowing Max, as soon as I close my eyes, he’ll be up again, but it’s worth a shot.
Who knew that babies, ie Max, could spit up, poop and pee all at the same time and right after I sponged bathed him this morning? Yes, he was naked and I was at the business end of things. Not pretty, but pretty funny.
In a nut shell:
Wow, I’m tired.
I can finally put him down for a nap rather than hold him all day.
We call him Sonar Sam when he’s upset. I have never heard such high pitched wails. I’m not sure if humans are actually supposed to hear those wails. It’s like he’s calling to his brethren or searching for insects.
Breastfeeding is going well except for the sore factor.
Baby smell is a hypnotic used to keep you loving said infant at 5 in the morning after not sleeping since the night before and only for two hours.
Max is not a blob at all. His eyes really do hold the wisdom of the ages.
Co-sleeping because, really, is there any other choice.
I have never known fear in my life like I do for this kid. The whole “Is he breathing?” thing just starts the list.
Cats: Kiska could care less. Scrunchy is sad and depressed. Ollie just wants in on the action. Very glad we don’t have more cats. Never thought I’d say that. Oh and very glad Sparky said no to a puppy.
Going to sleep while I can. Here is a picture of Max after his first bath. His belly button thing fell off so I finally got to wash him.
It’s Sparky again. I have been recruited to type up this post, too, since typing requires sitting and sitting is a no-no for Jennifer. She’s also not allowed to touch the computer since she has a lot of pregnancy hormones left and must therefore be kept far away from sad, sad internet stories. Even a news snippet about declining profits for Citibank makes her sob uncontrollably.
Now for the gist of this posting: First and foremost, I’d like to thank everyone for their well-wishes. The outpouring of kindness and joy has been awesome. So have the requests for more pictures. Now, we Roders can be pretty stubborn, but in this case I’m inclined to obey.
Enjoy. We’ll post a web album as soon as we get around to it.
By now everyone knows that we have a lovely new family member. Joy, joy, joy 
And the good stuff just doesn’t seem to end:
People who follow me on Twitter know that I played the Lottery Saturday morning. No, I did not win yet… We find out on Wednesday if we won. But just for buying them, I got 3 Rod Stewart tickets for the concert in Wiesbaden and I’d like to give those away to spread the karma. And we can’t go…
Once a year I have this ritual to get 100 “Quicktipps” for 100 EUR – simply to dream about winning the Jackpot, leaving ye olde job behind, and permanently moving to San Francisco 
. Since my little family now consists of 3 people, I bought 3 Quicktipps this time.
The lady at the Kiosk told me that I automatically got 3 „LOTTO MusikDings“ . Which means: On Top of the normal Lottery tickets, I got 3 tickets to the Rod Steward Concert on July 11 in Wiesbaden.
I found out the normal price for these tickets is between 80 and 90 EURO. So therefore, I got my 100 lottery tickets for only 10 bucks! You all know how much I dig price-performance-ratios. I am a kraut after all.
And since I like becoming a millionaire well enough and neither the wifey nor I need 3 Rod Stewart tickets I want to give all three tickets away. Maybe that will be good Karma (ask the guy named Earl for winning the Jackpot )).
If you want a ticket, leave a comment. If more than three people want them, we’ll do a drawing.
Baby pictures coming later today.
Dude, he is so amazing. I can’t believe I can love someone so much that it hurts a million times worse than the contractions I suffered (until the epidural) to have him yet I can’t imagine anything in life better.
Quick details:
-Short labor and delivery – around four hours with only two at the hospital before he was unceremoniously ejected.
-Suffering no long term effects, though Heidi probably looks more like Seal right now, she’ll recover.
-The hospital experience was crappy across the board and the next one will be born in the US of A.
-The only reason there might be a second is because of a really wonderful guy who put a needle in my back in between contractions that were less than a minute apart. Next time, the epidural starts three days before delivery, just to be on the safe side.
-I’m so in love.
-I’m so tired.
-I’m happy.
