Day 235 - Chaos & Cheerios®

It's not that nothing noteworthy has happened in the weeks since my last post. Quite the contrary. I feel fortunate to have had the time, on occasion, to bathe or to tie my shoes.

These babies will not be denied!

Let's just say that in looking back at my posts this year, I find myself longing for some of the most difficult times I've described! Just when I think it can't get any harder, or that I won't be able to manage...well, it does and I am. And, for added perspective, the first few weeks at home with them were far harder than I had ever dreamed.

So what's changed? I'll start with what is probably the least physically-significant change, but is without question the most joyous for us:

Spitting up is UNDER CONTROL!!!!!!!!!!!! Was that overstated? Hardly. I wish I could make it blink, shimmy, and dance.

In the past three weeks or so, Girlie has all but stopped. Boy still does perhaps 2-3 times per day. [addendum--today was kind of a messy setback. But I digest.] Believe me, that's a 400-500% improvement! (In both frequency and quantity.) It is a categorical breath of fresh air. The number of burp cloths we went through on a daily basis? Good estimate...20. Now, it's closer to 4 or 5. The Maytag Man appreciates this fact nearly as much as we do.

Next up, crawling. Boy is all over the place. Now, to be clear, it's not so much as a crawl as it is the worm. He actually flops. But it's speed flopping. Hatches are battened down. Cabinets are locked and gates are sprouting up all over the house. What's amazing to me is what he finds on the floor. I guess it serves to show us how little--or how much more we need to vacuum. He finds a little speck of whatzit--half the size of a grain of cornstarch, and into the mouth it goes. Perhaps another drawback to having babies fairly late in life--the eyesight deficit! The babes and we are clearly on different playing fields. Girlie's top speed remains at 0.0mph. (Occasionally it's -0.5. Yes, she has a intermittently-functional reverse gear.)

One of the mental images I've carried throughout the past year is the expectation of finding one of the kids standing in his or her crib as we enter the nursery to greet them in the morning. Boy was first, not surprisingly. This happened two days ago--and it truly was adorable. As with many adorable, sweet, heartwarming positives, there is also a darker side. The heinousness here is the fact that his crib-standing now obstructs his falling asleep. Where we once could lay him down in the crib and expect him to drift off (often preceded by significant hollering, but at least faithful hollering!) We can now expect him to stand at the crib rail and scream for what seems like hours. We're trying storybooks, singing, rocking, sound machines, iPod Baby Einstein, and monkey dancing. What. A. Drain!

Both have begun forming word-like sounds. Boy started with DA-DA's last week and Girlie with BA-BA's this week! That's fun. We're not yet ascribing any purposeful meaning to the sounds--much as I'd like to claim to be a target for the former. Still, I'm getting excited to converse with my kids. A whole new world is coming. Soon, I'll be able to reason with them and get them to stop complaining, crying, or otherwise behaving unpleasantly! Phew, that will be a relief. And then I will begin their lessons in quantum theory as relates to porcine aeronautics.

Solid foods have become a bi-daily adventure. Wifey lovingly prepares a variety of homemade baby fare consisting of sweet potatoes (a favorite throughout the household), apples, peas, squash, zucchini, and many more! But the titular saving grace has to be Cheerios. My toolbox for baby placation contains a few items such as toys, videos, singing, and books. But Cheerios (and now Puffs--thank you, Kyle!) are my weapons of choice. Despite the fact that the combination of Cheerios and baby saliva, when dried, yield an insoluble cement, they pacify like nothing I've encountered to date.

I've got more, but this has become too long for anyone to read. And I care about you. And your time. More soon!

Day 169 - Milestones? Who Has Time for Milestones?

I know it's been forever...and I've missed you.

As I sit here awaiting news of yet another great-niece or nephew, I'm musing on the fact that my babies will be a mere seven months older than their second cousins--but separated by a generation.

Now back to me.

The babies have really changed since my last post. Both are sitting up--though they can't yet get to that position. We've also begun feeding solid food. Their first was pears--an eventual big hit. Then it was sweet potatoes. I think those have continued to be a favorite. Peas, on the other hand, foot, forehead, etc., have been unceremoniously rejected. You should have seen the look on Boy's face when he fully experienced what was in his mouth. He jerked his head back and made a face that looked like he'd swallowed a rotten lemon. Soaked in vinegar. Haha--it was hysterical. So was the second spoonful. And the third. Did we enjoy it too much? Ok, no more peas. They also like squash, zucchini, and apples. And squash/pears cocktail is a big hit. Squares!

Last weekend we went to Lake Michigan for a mini vacation. The babes got their first boat ride and ski-tube experience. Granted, for the tubing, they were in our laps, wearing infant life-vests, and going maybe four miles an hour. Not exactly E-ticket. To illustrate it further, Girlie fell asleep halfway through. Then she peed on me. Hadn't felt compelled to put her in a swim diaper. It's a lake. Live and learn.

Crawling is mere days away for Boy. He's up on hands and knees and is rocking. So far, his only motion is in reverse. But the hatches are battened for the coming baby boogie.

Time Out...

Day 121 - What a Lives

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.

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.

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.)

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.

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.