Wouldn't it be nice to be a baby? I mean, sure you wouldn't be able to talk, read, or play Bejeweled Blitz, but man what a life! Imagine having everything brought to you. Imagine not having bills, work/home/life stresses. I suppose it's all relative; their stresses, like having their bottle a few minutes "late" or having a squishy diaper are probably as hard for them to manage as our day-to-day trials. But it sure looks good from this side of the crib!
Girlie was drinking her bottle today and started screaming for some mysterious reason (gas bubbles?) Anyhow, I sat her up and in no less than five seconds her eyes drooped and her head fell forward. Asleep. She startled herself back awake, but was then just fine and continued eating.
The vomiting, though. That would do me in. It's not something that I ever do--period. Sorry, the spitup tangent again.
Anyhow, it's nice to see their little grownup-stress-free lives. Refreshing to live vicariously through their blissful ignorance.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Day 115 - Ready to Roll
Amongst other milestones and developmental achievements, I've really been looking forward to some obvious, deliberate interaction between the babes. So far they've just had what looks like merely a passing awareness of one another. Perhaps there's more going on inside, but they've either hidden it from me or they're simply speaking a subtle dialect of twinese.
Yesterday I saw a very sweet and purposeful exchange. Girlie was playing with her feet. (Another milestone that I failed to announce a couple of weeks back.) She brought her left foot to her mouth and Boy, laying next to her, reached out his right hand and grabbed her foot, pulling it right out of her mouth. She looked over at him, they locked eyes, and both smiled. (Then they probably spit up all over each other, I don't really remember.)
Boy is probably just days away from sitting up. He likes to be in that position and can maintain his balance pretty well with a hand on his back or with Mom or Dad holding one of his hands. He's also begun to roll. If I remember correctly, one of my nieces never really crawled, she just rolled around the house. I think it's time for the next stage in baby-proofing. Time to put away the barbed wire and the cellophane curtains. Girlie is taking her sweet time, which is totally fine. She'll come along when she's ready. In the meantime, maybe I'll have only one rolling/crawling/toddling child at a time....at least for a few days! Six months from now, all bets are off. Frankly, it's still unfathomable the thought of having two children running around this house. Daily.
Yesterday I saw a very sweet and purposeful exchange. Girlie was playing with her feet. (Another milestone that I failed to announce a couple of weeks back.) She brought her left foot to her mouth and Boy, laying next to her, reached out his right hand and grabbed her foot, pulling it right out of her mouth. She looked over at him, they locked eyes, and both smiled. (Then they probably spit up all over each other, I don't really remember.)
Boy is probably just days away from sitting up. He likes to be in that position and can maintain his balance pretty well with a hand on his back or with Mom or Dad holding one of his hands. He's also begun to roll. If I remember correctly, one of my nieces never really crawled, she just rolled around the house. I think it's time for the next stage in baby-proofing. Time to put away the barbed wire and the cellophane curtains. Girlie is taking her sweet time, which is totally fine. She'll come along when she's ready. In the meantime, maybe I'll have only one rolling/crawling/toddling child at a time....at least for a few days! Six months from now, all bets are off. Frankly, it's still unfathomable the thought of having two children running around this house. Daily.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Day [-144] - The Day My Earth Stood Still
I've been asked to recount my first day of fatherhood. And although it doesn't exactly fit with the concept--or at least the trend--of this blog, I thought, if nothing else, it might be a nice record to keep here. I actually wrote about the day, November 30th, 2010, as it happened. Somehow, somewhere that text may exist. But the whirlwind of the day's events has sent it to live with the socks. So, here's my attempt to recount what was a nearly impossibly blurry day:
On the morning of November 30th, 2010, Wifey's doctor called personally to say that we needed to head to the hospital and that we may well be delivering that day. Results from a blood test the day before revealed that she had a rare, potentially life-threatening complication that could require immediate delivery.
The car had been packed with car seats and such for a couple of weeks--so off we went. After a brief consult at the hospital (with what seemed like half of the doctors in the building) we were told that today was in fact the day. Now comes the blurry part. She was prepped for an emergency c-section (under general anesthesia) and I was shuffled off into the recovery room to wait. I had my computer and a little rolling table on which to type. I was dressed in scrubs, booties, and a mask. And I was out of my mind. I had never thought of facebook as a therapeutic device, but writing updates and messaging friends & family felt....sane.
20 minutes or so into my exile, a nurse came in to the room and delivered the most understated question I've ever been asked, "Hi, Dad. Do you want to meet your babies?"
I was lead into one of the warmest rooms ever--the incubator room, I suppose. On the way, a doc told me that Wifey had done just fine and was recovering. She lay unconscious in the adjacent room--all I could see was her bent knee sticking out through the blue linens. Then, there they were. So incredibly small, fragile looking, and pink. My children. They were 5½ weeks early--and ultra skinny. (A little frightening.)
I had my hands clasped behind my back and was leaning over to look at them as they lay face-up on their warming tables. Were they alright? Was I allowed to touch them?
"They're doing just fine," The nurse said. "[Boy] is grunting and needed some oxygen at first, but he's just fine. You can touch them." I was hyperventilating a bit. (As evidenced in the video below.)
On the morning of November 30th, 2010, Wifey's doctor called personally to say that we needed to head to the hospital and that we may well be delivering that day. Results from a blood test the day before revealed that she had a rare, potentially life-threatening complication that could require immediate delivery.
The car had been packed with car seats and such for a couple of weeks--so off we went. After a brief consult at the hospital (with what seemed like half of the doctors in the building) we were told that today was in fact the day. Now comes the blurry part. She was prepped for an emergency c-section (under general anesthesia) and I was shuffled off into the recovery room to wait. I had my computer and a little rolling table on which to type. I was dressed in scrubs, booties, and a mask. And I was out of my mind. I had never thought of facebook as a therapeutic device, but writing updates and messaging friends & family felt....sane.
20 minutes or so into my exile, a nurse came in to the room and delivered the most understated question I've ever been asked, "Hi, Dad. Do you want to meet your babies?"
I was lead into one of the warmest rooms ever--the incubator room, I suppose. On the way, a doc told me that Wifey had done just fine and was recovering. She lay unconscious in the adjacent room--all I could see was her bent knee sticking out through the blue linens. Then, there they were. So incredibly small, fragile looking, and pink. My children. They were 5½ weeks early--and ultra skinny. (A little frightening.)
I had my hands clasped behind my back and was leaning over to look at them as they lay face-up on their warming tables. Were they alright? Was I allowed to touch them?
"They're doing just fine," The nurse said. "[Boy] is grunting and needed some oxygen at first, but he's just fine. You can touch them." I was hyperventilating a bit. (As evidenced in the video below.)
They were so warm. So absolutely helpless. So utterly terrifying.
I remember thinking that when I first saw my children, I would be overcome with an enormous sense of love--a nurturing, natural fatherhood instinct. That wasn't quite it for me. I could hardly believe they were mine. There was no immediate spark or connection. I was just overwhelmed. Just another example of how things aren't always as you'd expect. I wonder what other fathers feel in similar situations.
Mom was wheeled in a half-an-hour later, or so. She was groggy and painful--which only added to the surrealism of my day. She was conscious enough, though, to worry about the delivery and how successful it had been. My reassurance seemed to have little effect. But they had all done wonderfully. The babes were taken to the NICU on a different floor; Wifey wouldn't see them for another couple of hours. (Before she was initially taken to surgery, she had made me promise not to name them. So much for Ozzie and Harriet.) She doesn't really recall meeting them for the first time--so I'm entrusted with that memory. I'll forever remember the tear in her eye.
It was only later that I learned that Wifey's condition was associated with a 20% mortality rate--for her. The number was twice that for the babes. The nurse that had ordered the blood test the day before did so essentially on a whim. Had it not been for her, this blog may have been much different--if present.
And here I am, Girlie sleeping on my chest as I write this. Has my life ever been different? Now that's the blurry part.
I remember thinking that when I first saw my children, I would be overcome with an enormous sense of love--a nurturing, natural fatherhood instinct. That wasn't quite it for me. I could hardly believe they were mine. There was no immediate spark or connection. I was just overwhelmed. Just another example of how things aren't always as you'd expect. I wonder what other fathers feel in similar situations.
Mom was wheeled in a half-an-hour later, or so. She was groggy and painful--which only added to the surrealism of my day. She was conscious enough, though, to worry about the delivery and how successful it had been. My reassurance seemed to have little effect. But they had all done wonderfully. The babes were taken to the NICU on a different floor; Wifey wouldn't see them for another couple of hours. (Before she was initially taken to surgery, she had made me promise not to name them. So much for Ozzie and Harriet.) She doesn't really recall meeting them for the first time--so I'm entrusted with that memory. I'll forever remember the tear in her eye.
It was only later that I learned that Wifey's condition was associated with a 20% mortality rate--for her. The number was twice that for the babes. The nurse that had ordered the blood test the day before did so essentially on a whim. Had it not been for her, this blog may have been much different--if present.
And here I am, Girlie sleeping on my chest as I write this. Has my life ever been different? Now that's the blurry part.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Day 83 - Baby Gifts - From Babies, that is
My longest stretch yet between posts has been, well, rough. The babes have been frustrating, beautiful, demanding, cute, and aggravating. (In no particular order.) I've not been inspired to write about these trials as nothing terribly noteworthy has happened with respect to developmental milestones. Docs say that they're on target and even ahead of the curve in many regards--growth, coordination, awareness, etc. But it sure has felt a bit stagnant when it comes to those gifts I've mentioned in blogs past. As a reminder, I've considered smiles to be the only real gifts the babes have, at this point, to give willingly. Cuteness doesn't count--and love is arguably not yet present. (Or if it is, it's not yet overtly distinguishable.) Those smiles have sustained me through many a challenge and frustration that at-home-fatherhood has brought. More recently there have been the first hints of some giggling and even some apparent face-recognition. More gifts.
They've both been especially fussy over the past couple of weeks--generally preceding feeding time. Sometimes it seems that, during my days, feeding is all I'm working towards. The crying begins in earnest a half-an-hour or so before [our desired, scheduled] feedings. That's fine, I mean I'm not so delusional that I expect feeding times to be adhered to rigidly --but that's been the trend. And they've seemed relatively comfortable with it. But the fussiness sometimes begins an hour or more prior. And that's....hard.
And then came today's 3:30pm feeding....
We returned from some errands at 3:35--the stress of a five minute discrepancy is manageable--oh, don't you worry about me! I got the bottles ready, set up my work area with burp cloths, bottle holders and the laptop-on-a-tray. (The latter being my "down time" sanity-maintenance-device.) To this mixture I add two whole babies and 16 fl oz. or formula. To my absolute surprise, Boy rejected the bottle, looked up into my eyes, and delivered the biggest, most directly connected smile I've ever seen from him. It completely warmed my occasionally complacent heart. Sometimes I get into the feeding routine and it becomes admittedly a bit methodical; he snapped me right back with those baby blues. Girlie was in good spirits as well, which in and of itself can be a blessing. It was a great, and greatly needed afternoon.
We returned from some errands at 3:35--the stress of a five minute discrepancy is manageable--oh, don't you worry about me! I got the bottles ready, set up my work area with burp cloths, bottle holders and the laptop-on-a-tray. (The latter being my "down time" sanity-maintenance-device.) To this mixture I add two whole babies and 16 fl oz. or formula. To my absolute surprise, Boy rejected the bottle, looked up into my eyes, and delivered the biggest, most directly connected smile I've ever seen from him. It completely warmed my occasionally complacent heart. Sometimes I get into the feeding routine and it becomes admittedly a bit methodical; he snapped me right back with those baby blues. Girlie was in good spirits as well, which in and of itself can be a blessing. It was a great, and greatly needed afternoon.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Day 69 - Small Victories
I haven't written in a while--we had a guest in town last week. She was a huge help and great fun. Then she went back home to Minnesota. :(
We've noticed that whenever guests leave, the following day tends to be pretty insane with regard to baby temperaments. Yesterday was no exception. Boy had a day of major...dissatisfaction. He was inconsolable for several hours straight--towards the end of which I was nearly out of my mind. What can be so upsetting to infants, I wonder? You go through the list, checking off all the usual suspects until it is (and you are) exhausted. And then it stops. And it's fine. SO frustrating.
Today I decided to pack up for an outing before their 11:30 feeding. Pretty ambitious, I thought. We went to our local hangout--a Westfield mall--to look for trouble. There was, in fact, no trouble--at least not until feeding time. Twin Pop grabbed a couple of tacos and a drink just in time to avert a double-duty hunger crisis. Then it was off to the Family Room--if I haven't mentioned this here before, it's a really cool space with a row of changing tables, comfy chairs, curtained-off nursing areas and a parent/child restroom. We like it there. I'm not used to feeding the babes without a fairly wide chair--both laying between the outside of my legs and a pillow/armrest. No luck here. The chairs, while comfy, are narrow--so I was short a couple of limbs.
After packing up and returning home, I changed their car-jostling-induced barf-soaked outfits. (See how cavalier I am about this now?) And I decided to make another attempt at an afternoon nap. (Them, not me. That's still all but impossible.) I was shooting for 1:30, but I got them down at 1:45. Pretty good. At this moment, it's 2:40 and they've been remarkably quiet! HooHaaaaay!
It's the little victories like this that give me the optimism to face the next challenge. Let me tell you, friend, it is stinkin' hard. SO much harder than I'd ever imagined. I can't in good conscience recommend this to anyone. Don't get me wrong, I love being a dad and I love my babes. I can't always say that I love my job. But.......
We've noticed that whenever guests leave, the following day tends to be pretty insane with regard to baby temperaments. Yesterday was no exception. Boy had a day of major...dissatisfaction. He was inconsolable for several hours straight--towards the end of which I was nearly out of my mind. What can be so upsetting to infants, I wonder? You go through the list, checking off all the usual suspects until it is (and you are) exhausted. And then it stops. And it's fine. SO frustrating.
Today I decided to pack up for an outing before their 11:30 feeding. Pretty ambitious, I thought. We went to our local hangout--a Westfield mall--to look for trouble. There was, in fact, no trouble--at least not until feeding time. Twin Pop grabbed a couple of tacos and a drink just in time to avert a double-duty hunger crisis. Then it was off to the Family Room--if I haven't mentioned this here before, it's a really cool space with a row of changing tables, comfy chairs, curtained-off nursing areas and a parent/child restroom. We like it there. I'm not used to feeding the babes without a fairly wide chair--both laying between the outside of my legs and a pillow/armrest. No luck here. The chairs, while comfy, are narrow--so I was short a couple of limbs.
After packing up and returning home, I changed their car-jostling-induced barf-soaked outfits. (See how cavalier I am about this now?) And I decided to make another attempt at an afternoon nap. (Them, not me. That's still all but impossible.) I was shooting for 1:30, but I got them down at 1:45. Pretty good. At this moment, it's 2:40 and they've been remarkably quiet! HooHaaaaay!
It's the little victories like this that give me the optimism to face the next challenge. Let me tell you, friend, it is stinkin' hard. SO much harder than I'd ever imagined. I can't in good conscience recommend this to anyone. Don't get me wrong, I love being a dad and I love my babes. I can't always say that I love my job. But.......
Raise you hand if you can. Exactly. Pipe down, Twin Pop.
Footnote:
We're getting some baby giggles around here!
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Day 59 - Mayhem to Merriment
Yesterday was the single most difficult day yet. The babes were miserable from most of late morning through the afternoon. I felt totally helpless and incompetent. Yes, I know I'm not--it just felt so at the time. We're attempting to regulate naps during the day to improve bedtime. It's also to get them on a schedule--with the goal of giving Twin Pop some reasonably reliable time to accomplish...anything during the day. I should mention that we're on a four night stretch of through-the-night sleeping, which is simply wonderful! Bedtime, however, continues to be a little chaotic. Especially...no, pretty much only for Girlie. She's our bedtime banshee! We can pretty much count on 15-30 minutes of screaming each night. Could be worse, I guess. Has been worse! Anyhow, I'm just glad yesterday is behind me--it was a moment of total and complete weakness in which I felt like running screaming through the neighborhood. Perhaps I should have. I would likely have been given a little mandatory vacation--complete with free room and board! And I could have made some new friends!
This morning, following their first feeding, Wifey brought the babes in and laid them in bed next to me. This has been our norm for a while--it gives me a few moments to awaken and to remember that I'm no longer childless. And how. We've been attempting to keep them awake with some playtime until their morning nap. So far it's had little or no success. The playtime is fine, bus as soon as they're set in the crib, it all falls apart. But....and a very big but...
My little girl laughed this morning!
What a beautiful, rough, awkward little laugh it was. It's funny to imagine, if you'd never laughed in your life, how it would sound. Well, it is stinkin' cute. I was rattling a toy with all kinds of shakers, bells, and stuff and she apparently thought it was very funny. I tried a few times just to make sure. And I am; she did. :)
Today was glorious--which was greatly needed.
This morning, following their first feeding, Wifey brought the babes in and laid them in bed next to me. This has been our norm for a while--it gives me a few moments to awaken and to remember that I'm no longer childless. And how. We've been attempting to keep them awake with some playtime until their morning nap. So far it's had little or no success. The playtime is fine, bus as soon as they're set in the crib, it all falls apart. But....and a very big but...
My little girl laughed this morning!
What a beautiful, rough, awkward little laugh it was. It's funny to imagine, if you'd never laughed in your life, how it would sound. Well, it is stinkin' cute. I was rattling a toy with all kinds of shakers, bells, and stuff and she apparently thought it was very funny. I tried a few times just to make sure. And I am; she did. :)
Today was glorious--which was greatly needed.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Day 57 - ♣ A Lucky Break ♣
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
It has indeed been a lucky day for Twin Pop! Wifey took the day off to make up for some extra hours last weekend. We all piled up and went to breakfast at a local pancake joint. The hostess seated us all in an empty side room. Privacy or expulsion? You decide. Great way to start the day though--and the babes were angelic!
We then visited a nearby community park for a ~2 mile lakeside stroll. Babes slept for half, and fussed for the other. Not a huge deal. I should add that this was the first day with a temperature much above the 30's. We got some low 60's! Truly a slice of heaven!
When we got home, Wifey fully took the reigns and I went out to the movies! My first solo recreational outing since becoming a dad. I had popcorn! And soda! Ah, careless disregard of calories. So great.
Following a brief, duty-bound trip to the supermarket, I returned home to get the corned beef dinner underway. My BabiesMama is a saint--I really needed that recharge. :)
We also tried Baby Einstein today--well, Baby Bach to be specific. At 3.5 months, I wouldn't have thought it so appealing to the babes. I mean, their attention spans seem little better than a moth's in a discotheque. I made that up myself. Anyhow, they sat there, transfixed for nearly the entire 30 minute segment. It's baby crack! I can already see how difficult it's gonna be not sitting them in front of that stuff every day. I shall resist.
A truly great day. And I'm not even Irish.
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