Four months

Dear Carter,

4 months! We are loving this stage and enjoying you so much. Every day you’re a new kid, growing and developing so fast I wish I could bottle up the moments and savor them for much longer. You constantly crack us up with your silly noises, funny faces, and flailing limbs. You’re very particular about your audience, though, preferring to keep it to just your dad and I. Which I suppose is okay, I’m sure before long I’ll be asking you to use an inside voice as you shriek through the aisles of some store (let’s be realistic, it will be Target). Speaking of shrieking, you have got some lungs! Wow. You are my child after all, so you come by it honestly. I’ve actually had to cover my ears a few times. You are a megaphone of fantastic, beautiful squeals of joy.

You babble and laugh and giggle all the time, occasionally throwing in some whining or fussing but mostly just happy noises. I tend to believe you got all of your screaming and fussing out in the first two months of your life and now you’re making up for it by being angelic 95% of the time. You’re also making up for all of your not-sleeping. THANK GOODNESS. Your dad and I were just about to lose it (okay, we already had) when all of the sudden you started sleeping last month and you’ve been going strong ever since. I think your exuberance for life wears you out. You go to sleep at 7, wake up for a midnight snack, and sleep until 6 or so. Believe me, I know how lucky we are and we worked hard to get here. Sometimes I’d really like to keep you up and hang out but you are just ready sleep. Again, just like your mother. When you wake up you are always the happiest baby ever and I just love those moments. You are absolutely elated to see us and fling all your limbs in delight. Stella, however, usually gets a glare. In your defense, I might be a little less than thrilled if a giant beast came crashing though my room to wake me up. We’re going to have to work on your love for animals. You do like music though, and you always smile when I sing to you. Lately we’ve started family band nights, I sing and your dad plays guitar. We’re ready for you on drums when you can figure out how to hold some sticks. I sure hope you get your dad’s rhythm.

You’re a lot like your dad in a few distinct ways. Specifically, your height, weight, and head size. You’re off the charts. You’re outgrowing some of your 9 and 12 month clothes. We’ve got two full boxes of stuff you can’t fit into anymore, and some of them never even touched your skin. You’re longer than my torso, and you’ve doubled your birth weight already. And your feet! None of your socks fit anymore, so I went to buy more. I got the 6-18 month size thinking surely that would last a while. Maybe they’d be a little big, but you’d grown into them, right? Wrong. They were a little small. The tube engulfed your whole calf, but the foot part didn’t quite make it to your heel. I’ve got some massive knots in my neck and back from lugging you around for the past 4 months. By the time you can walk on your own I’ll be strong enough to compete in lumberjack contests.

You love looking at toys and love to eat them even more. You’re ready to grab one in each fist and run down the halls. I keep telling you to slow down, but you’re not interested. There are times when you finally wear yourself out and crash and sometimes when other people are around you’re too mesmerized by all the voices and faces to exert the same level of liveliness. The rest of the time you are rearing to go. I know I’m in for a whole lot of trouble and so, so much chasing. Even when you’re sleeping you don’t really settle down. The other day we found you turned 90 degrees and on the opposite side of your crib, toy flung to the other corner. You have this new trick of scratching the mattress. The first time we heard this odd noise coming across the monitor we really could not figure out what the heck you were doing. We wandered into your room, perplexed, and discovered you laying perfectly still except for your hands. A few nights ago you scratched the mattress for over an hour, from midnight to after 1am, mesmerized. So I call you Scratch Masta C.

When I’m not trying to corral you, I’m wiping off your chin, your hands, and whatever else you can get in your mouth. I’m pretty sure you’re teething, which accounts for almost all of your fussy times. I don’t blame you, it’s a pretty unpleasant process and I wish I could take away all your pain. Your latest nickname is “droolbucket,” for self explanatory reasons. And now that you’re blowing raspberries all the time, I feel like I’m watching Shamu from the splash zone.

We’ve entered the glorious season of fall and we’re spending a good amount of time hanging out at home, bundling up and lighting candles. It’s wonderful to come home and hang out with you. We spend as much time as we can snuggling and playing with you. It’s actually pretty funny, out of all the space in our house we usually end up in the same ten square feet of each other. Usually it’s on the living room floor. We’ll put you on your activity mat and both your dad and I lay down next to you and Stella is never far behind. This is a good life we’re living. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and nothing else I’d rather do. I’m just so blessed to wake up and be your mom every day.

Love,

Mama

what a difference a year makes

One year ago today I took a test (some would say the most advanced piece of technology I'll ever pee on) and the NOT never appears alongside the PREGNANT. I hated that NOT and I had more than my fair share of angry/bitter/irrationally upset moments resulting from negative pregnancy tests, and I know how blessed we are that we could have a child. For some reason, I didn’t think that was our month on that fateful October morning. I’d had previous months when I was absolutely convinced I was pregnant only to be devastated again. All those previous months I had these huge imaginative plans for the creative and special ways I would tell Seth and the magical moment it would be. That morning I just thought, eh, what the heck, might as well take the test. It was really too early to test anyway and I knew I probably wouldn’t get an accurate result even if I was pregnant, which I was certain I wasn’t.

Sure enough, I was.

And that’s where all my imaginative planning met its demise. As soon as the result showed up I did a true double take and almost died of shock. Instead of concocting some special moment, I went and woke up Seth immediately, despite the fact that it was 6am on a Saturday. Then I kept looking at the test, approximately 5,000 times before I really believed it. And right away I knew it was a boy.

36 weeks later, Carter James Jobin entered the world. People say pregnancy goes fast. For me, not so much. Not at all, actually. When I found out I was pregnant, I was only 3½ weeks along, leaving a heck of a lot of weeks to wonder and worry and be sick. Really, really sick. I wore sea bands for months. They didn’t really help me feel better, but when I didn’t wear them it was even worse. Some days I had to close my door and lay on my floor at work. I quickly learned the less populated bathrooms.

I don’t think I ever wanted something as much as I wanted a baby. God created me to be a mother. I remember being a very young child thinking about what I wanted to be when I grew up and I always knew my answer: I wanted to be a mom. The reality of my life now looks different than I imagined, but that doesn’t diminish the love I have for Carter or the fullness of my heart. There are things I’m good at, but this is most definitely my purpose. This is what I was created to do. I am so very thankful for all of the blessing the Lord has given us. Thankful for His strength pushing us on through many sleepless nights. Thankful for His guidance in our imperfect lives, walking us down the path of parenting. Thankful that He entrusted us to take care of Carter while he’s here on Earth.

I can’t imagine life any other way and I couldn’t love my little boy more.

But next time I’m pregnant, I’m telling Seth via fireworks and/or skywriting.

Props to all you working folk.

So it's been over a month since I went back to work and if there's one word to sum it all up, it is "EXHAUSTING." Like all things in life, it's an adjustment and we'll get used to it, but my gosh, I don't know how people with 5 kids, all of them at different schools and different schedules and mom's off to work (loaded down with 3 different bags, in my case) and dad's out the door (loaded down with diaper bag, baby, and work stuff) and much chaos abounds.

The glue keep all our stuff together is we have a pretty easy going baby and we're both giving everything we have to make this work.

Here's our day:
Our alarms start going off at 5:45. Half the time Carter is awake and babbling, sometimes more forcefully squawking.

By 6:00, Seth is in the shower and I get Carter up. Stella is thrilled to see Seth and I and follows me into the nursery, crashing forcibly into walls and smacking her tail into crib rails.

While Seth gets ready, I feed Carter. We switch around 6:30, hopefully Seth is ready by then. Then I get ready, pack my pump (this whole process is complicated by the fact that I'm still exclusively nursing), pack my laptop, and the rest of my stuff. Then I pack a cooler for Carter. I try to do everything else the night before. Seth gets Carter changed and dressed for the day, puts the dog out, and we try to be out the door by 7am. Seth drops Carter off, goes to work.

I'm usually home around 5 and Seth and Carter walk in around 5:30. I try to squeeze as much as humanly possible into those 30 minutes, even though I would really like to just collapse. I also try to give Stella some attention. Clean the pump, put away milk, start some laundry, vacuum the tile (between Stella and my post-baby hair loss... my vacuum and I spend a lot of time together).

We try to hang out from 5:30-6, maybe start dinner, play with Carter a little. Then I feed Carter at 6, followed by bath time, some cuddle time, a story or a song (mostly determined by who is putting Carter to bed). Carter's usually in bed around 7, at which point we make and eat dinner, clean for 15 minutes, and do some quiet time. I try to pack Carter's bag for the next day. I pump and go to bed around 9:30-10. Seth gives Carter a bottle at 10:30 and goes to bed and then we start it all over.

I've never loved the weekend so much.

Sweet pleasures of life.

Last night, I laid in bed listening to the baby monitor. I do this often, just listen to Carter babbling to himself. In case he hasn't told you, that kid has a LOT to talk about.

Last night was even sweeter because Seth was in there too and they were playing as Seth was putting Carter back down and they were laughing together. Which was so sweet, even at midnight or whatever time it was when we all should have been sleeping. I felt like a fortunate onlooker, listening to the soundtrack of my precious baby and his daddy. I reminded myself of the grinch when his heart grew three sizes that day.

A Call for Help

I write this with a very heavy heart. A girl on the Nest's boards passed away this weekend on Sunday, September 27th due to an amniotic fluid embolism, just hours after giving birth to her first child, Gabrielle.

Gabrielle is doing well and will be released from the NICU this week.

Jewelyn's husband, Philip, is going to need all the help he can get over the coming months and years.

A PO Box has been set up to receive formula checks and diaper coupons. Any and all brands will be accepted, and whatever Philip doesn't use will be donated to the Liz Logelin Foundation.

Formula checks and diaper coupons can be sent to:

Jewelyn Okamoto Memorial Fund

PO Box 235971

Encinitas, CA 92023-5971


For those who want to send packages (larger than an envelope), the address for that is:

Brandi Futrell
c/o Jewelyn Okamoto Memorial Fund
14928 S. Maple Ave.
Gardena, CA 90248

You can also send a donation to the paypal account email address, 4jewelyn@gmail.com, in case anyone wants to send a couple dollars to help her husband and baby.

Please keep this sweet baby girl and her daddy in your prayers.

3 whole months!

Dear Carter,

You’re no longer a newborn anymore. You’re officially 3 months old and we cannot believe how much you’re growing and changing every day.

First and foremost, I have some big news. The most amazing thing happened this month: YOU SLEPT! The sun is brighter, flowers are more fragrant, the birds are cheerier, and the world is a beautiful place! One day right after you hit two months I think you must have realized that sleep was a good idea after all. You napped without a fight, and stayed asleep longer than I’d ever seen you nap. A week or two after that, you started sleeping longer at night. And, OH MY GOSH, it was fabulous. I woke your dad up in the middle of the night to ask if he had been up with you and maybe I just somehow slept through it (HA, as if that would happen), and he hadn’t, so my first thought was that something terrible had happened and once I figured out that you were just fine and snoozing away I wept tears of joy. The prolonged sleep deprivation may have had something to do with the tears. We’re still working up to full nights of sleep now, but you are well on your way.

In general you’ve just been a much happier baby this month. You’re still the same snuggly, funny, adorable little boy, just a little more laid back. Much less screaming, fewer demands, lots of smiles and laughs. You’ve gone from an angry dictator to a happy baby. I’m afraid I’m jinxing it by typing those words, but my goal here is to capture the last month of your life, so I have to be honest.

You had more adventures in the first 12 weeks of your life than some kids probably have in a whole childhood. It’s just too bad you a. won’t remember them and b. slept through most of them. This month we went to the zoo again, I took you to the beach for the first time, and you attended your first birthday party. You may not remember much but I promise the pictures are cute. You can just call me the mama-razzi.

You are growing leaps and bounds developmentally. You smile and laugh ALL THE TIME now. It’s the greatest thing ever! You talk constantly, although I can’t quite figure out what you’re trying to say with all of that babbling but it sure is cute. You’re grabbing things now, too. Of all the wonderful toys we went to the store and actually paid money for, your hands are your very favorite. In fact, I think you may need a 12-step program. The brief seconds in which we must separate from your hands to pull your shirt over your head (and your head is enormous, so that takes a little while. Clothing designers did not have you in mind when they designed shirts) or wash those little fingers when we bathe you almost require an intervention. For a little guy, you’re quite strong and you do NOT want to be parted from your dear precious hands. As much as you love them, you’re just beginning to figure out that they might be, like, connected to you or something. Your dad calls it a standoff- you stare at one of them with a look that he narrates: “It’s you and me, hand. And you are getting in my mouth!” You proceed to very slowly pull said hand toward your mouth but it usually ends up in your eye, crashing into your ear, beating your forehead, and THEN, oh sweet, sweet victory, IN YOUR MOUTH! A few days ago you actually reached out for a toy, grabbed on, and proceeded to attempt the same path to your mouth. Let’s just say you haven’t quite gotten that skill down, but it’s mere moments before you are grabbing at everything and promptly sticking it in your mouth. We’re in trouble.

This has been a month of change. Not surprisingly, nothing has phased you. I had to go back to work last week, which was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. You were completely oblivious. You’re quite lucky to spend the day with your grandma where you get more attention than is probably healthy. Your auntie Anna left for college in New York, which was again harder for me than for her or you. On the way home from saying goodbye to her I told your dad I’m locking you in your room until you’re 25. Maybe longer. He’s trying to talk me out of it, but I’m still contemplating it.

Last week marked the 8th anniversary of September 11. It’s hard to describe that day and what it meant, but just know that I hugged you a little longer that day in remembrance of the incredible brevity of life. I even ditched my structure and parenting theories and let you sleep in my arms instead of putting you down in your crib. I’m pretty sure one nap won’t ruin you and at the end of the day, if you feel safe and cared for and loved, I feel like I’ve done my job.

Love,
Mama

The epic battle of motherhood

Next week I go back to work. I've agonized over this day and it continues to barrel at me faster than I can handle. I do feel fortunate for a variety of reasons, including that I really enjoy my job and the people I work with, I'm lucky enough to be able to ease back into work, and Carter will be in the very loving hands of his grandmother, to name a few. But none of that really makes me feel any better about leaving my baby. I do tend be a (huge) stress ball about things like this, so I'm sure the reality will not be as bad as the anticipation of it but I'm still a bit fired up about this.

I was reading a checklist in What to Expect the First Year about going back to work vs. staying home. They really just should have said that all moms should stay home because the list was really biased and guilt-inducing. For example, one point asked how you would feel as a mother to not be there for your child's major milestones. How are you going to feel when your child says his first words without you there? Takes his first steps into someone else's arms? I'm pretty sure that no mother is going to think that sounds like the best idea ever and run right out for a job application.

I have always been very sensitive to the argument of working mothers versus stay at home moms, probably the sociologist in me, but I'm more passionate about it now than ever. I'm not going back to work because I don't like being home with my child. In fact, to the surprise of everyone in my life who knows me and knows that I don't sit still very well, I am content to play on the floor and I'm not crawling the walls at all. I'm not going back to work because I feel like I'm an educated woman who needs to use my skills, feels like I need to earn some control over my destiny, need the interaction, etc. There is one reason I'm going back to work: the dolla dolla bill y'all.

In our family, both parents need to work and I wish so-called modern society was a bit more sensitive to this plight. The whole argument of your wages from working outside the home are basically a wash when you consider the cost of day-care, work clothes, commuting etc. doesn't really work for most people. Yes, we will need to spend some money for me to make money, but there's no amount of corner-cutting and belt-tightening that eliminates the need for me to work. Unless we cut out those frivolous expenses like food, electricity, water, and shelter. If this wasn't the case, I don't know what I would do. I'd probably stay home, but truthfully I don't really let myself think too far down that path. All of those checklists of how to evaluate if you want to go back to work or not really should be more like a choose-your-own-adventure book. The question "do you need two incomes?" is not one box on a huge list of pros and cons. If you don't, proceed to page 72 and think about it some more. If you do need your income, that's the end of the list. Maybe instead we can use the remaining space and energy to support families who need to make it work. Seth and I have a pretty successful partnership and since we both work outside of the home, we both work in the home. That's a huge key to me keeping it together. Also, that battle of working moms and stay at home moms has got to stop. I would love to see women (and men) just get along and be sensitive to the challenges of everyone's very different lives, whether your reality is to stay home with your kids, work, not have kids, or whatever your path may be.

And, let's just go ahead and skip the part about your baby taking his first steps into someone else's arms. It's an unfortunate possibility, but I've already talked to Carter and he's agreed to be very boring with everyone but me. So at least there's that.

Anyone else do this? hmmm, no? just me?

Sometimes when I've had a particularly challenging or grueling day, the kind that take every ounce of my strength to get through, I think to myself at the end of it "wow, I hope this isn't like groundhog's day.".The movie, not the date in February. My worst case scenario? Moving day. Who the heck wants to do that every day for the rest of their life? Unless that's your job and if so I hope you love moving days. Today was one of those days. I'm laying in bed thinking that if I have to wake up and repeat today I may just stay in bed. Then I started thinking about my quirky fear of groundhog's day and suddenly needed to share it with you. I have a lot of other quirks. I could probably write a book of my quirks and irrational fears. It might just become a surprise best seller with a subtitle like "feel normal compared to this wackadoo!" (Or wacka-dudette?) But that's another post for some other day.

Two Months Old

Dear Carter,

Today you’re two months old! To celebrate, we’re all taking a nap. Well, your father and I are, you will probably flail in your crib for a while, possibly squawk with displeasure and proceed to stay awake for the next 6 hours. I sometimes feel like I gave birth to the energizer bunny. You don’t sleep nearly enough for your age and we can’t quite figure out where you’re storing these energy reserves you seem to tap into. You still only go about 3 hours between feedings, including at night. This has been the biggest struggle with you lately and we get all sorts of unsolicited advice on how to remedy this. We’ve come to the conclusion that you’re hungry a lot and not ready to go more than 3 (or sometimes 2, occasionally 4) hours. Some people have told us to ignore you and just not feed you. That would be disastrous. If you stay asleep too long and wake up too hungry you get absolutely furious. It’s those time when you beat me with your tiny little fist and claw my chest while I try my best to soothe you. So, yeah, ignoring you… bad idea for you, bad idea for the mental state of your parents. Others think you need to be swaddled. Those people don’t know you too well, Houdini. You haven’t wanted to be swaddled since before we left the hospital. If we try, which we gave up about 6 weeks ago, you voice your displeasure and thrash violently until you can free yourself. You prefer to sleep like a starfish, all of your limbs extended. For now, we’re zombified and just trying to make it through each night and resulting blurry days.

We had you dedicated on my birthday. I won’t publish the details of the difficulties you provided that day… let’s just say you owe us. I guess it was partially our fault for trying to dedicate you just shy of 5 weeks old. It was a very special moment for us, for us to basically commit to raising you in the ways of the Lord and pray that one day you would embrace Him. Carter, we want many things for you but nothing more than our desire for you to know God. We will try our best as your parents but we will undoubtedly fail. He never will. His love is perfect and He loves you more than we ever could. Let me tell you little guy, that is a LOT because it’s hard for me to imagine anyone loving you more than we do.

This has been a fun month for us. We know you a little better, you know us a lot better. You lock your eyes on me when I walk into a room and you recognize our voices and Stella’s barking. You used to hear our voices and look all around trying to find out where that strange noise was coming from. Now, you immediately turn your head toward our voices and stare at us. This week you’ve started smiling a lot. When I come get you out of your crib after you wake up you always give me the biggest smile and coo at me. It pretty much melts my heart with joy. You’re also very smiley when I change your diaper, which makes it a little better when you pee on me. Still, I could do without the being peed on part. Simply put, you learned how to work me before you were even two months old, smiling at precisely the right moments.

You laughed for the first time last weekend. Your dad had just weighed you and came out to report you were tipping the scales at 13 pounds. He held you up in the air at his eye level and announced in a very silly voice “13 pounds! That’s bigger than a ham!” Apparently that was the most hilarious thing you’d ever heard and you let out the cutest giggle I’d ever heard. You’ve laughed a few times since then, though we’re sure you have no idea what you’re really laughing at.
You are such a little sponge, growing leaps and bounds. It seems like every day you are less of a (very cute lovable) blob and more of a little person. Your dad says you’re the most amazing baby in the world. You like to stand and support all your weight. If you had the muscle control I just know you would be running down the halls already. You’ve been picking your head up from the first few days of your life and now you’re really starting to figure out what to do with it. You’re beginning to understand that your hands are connected to your arms and that you have control over them. Before you would sort of dive after them as they flew by your face, a bit like Stella trying to catch a fly. Even your pediatrician thinks you’re advanced. In fact, at your one month check up he told you to slow down and enjoy being a baby. He also told you to sleep more but that yielded no results. And remember the controversy over whether or not you had actually rolled over last month? You solved that by rolling over for real shortly after I wrote that letter, on the day you reach one month. I don’t know where you think you’re going but it seems you have big plans and places to go. I just hope some of those plans involve us, because we sure do like you.

Love,
Mama

Missing: July

Last seen for a fleeting moment somewhere around Independence Day.

Seriously, I can't believe it's August and Carter is 7 weeks old. I know everyone says that about their kids, but we had the most chaotic July ever, so that really just accelerated our lives to warp speed. The last half of June was very blurry with very little sleeping and lots of screaming and before we really got through that July hit. A few of our highlights:

• 27 straight days of family visiting from other states (3 separate sets- some of Seth's family from Rhode Island and New Hampshire, some of my family from Colorado, then some more of Seth's family from Vermont
• Chandra and Ian's wedding and accompanying wedding festivities
  
• Many birthdays, including my sister's, my dad's, and my own plus the resulting festivities
  
• Our anniversary, which was pretty sad actually. Our big highlight was picking which frozen meal we wanted to microwave. We're still planning to go out to a slightly fancier dinner at some point, but very small babies make for difficult date nights.
• Carter's first trip to the zoo
• Carter's first Padres game. They lost, of course, and I almost lost my mind worrying. We had really amazing seats on the field level right behind 3rd plate. Translation: gazillions of foul balls flying at us faster than you can imagine.
  
• My sister and I went to the Fray concert. They were great live, I definitely recommend seeing them.
• Some fence building
  

Add in a few sicknesses (one for Carter, a few for me), not nearly enough sleep, and it's really not surprising July was a blur. And that's just what I can remember off the top of my head.

So here we are in August. Hopefully this month will pass a little slower and we won't get sucked up, spun around, and spit out on the other side. Not that we didn't enjoy July, because we did and it was lots of fun, it just wore us out. I plan to take in every moment with Carter before I go back to work in a month and spend lots of time with my sister before she leaves for college in New York at the end of the month. We want to do much, much less, savor the summer, hang out with friends, and spend time with our little family.

Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
-Ferris Bueller