Friday, 06 August 2010

So after spending my entire life without having a daughter or a nephew, I’ve suddenly gained both in a matter of days. Last night (though I didn’t find out about it until this morning) my wife’s sister gave birth to little Asa. After only ten days as the youngest member of her family, Isla has already one-upped by her new cousin. I’m not sure why, but my sister-in-law must have a strong drive to have the youngest grandchild in the family – her daughter Lyric had been the youngest grandchild for over four years, up until Isla was born last week. Now, she’s gone and taken that title again. Oh well. We’ll always have the oldest.

Also today: I’ve gotta comment on what a jolting contrast it is between our two interactions with the medical community.

This morning, the midwives came for their one-week visit. Then, this afternoon, we took Isla to her first ever doctor’s checkup. It was her first time in a car (which, hilariously, the midwife termed a “blandmark”). So, first we have to get in the car, then we have to find our way to this office, park in the ramp, then figure out how to get from the ramp to the office.

Next, we were greeted at the front desk by a, “We’ll be right with you guys.” Then we had to fill out some paperwork, and have a seat in the waiting room, where we they’d placed a sign that says “If you’ve been waiting for more than 15 minutes, please let one of the front desk associates know.” That’s a rather depressing sign, and I’ll explain why:

See, the very existence of such a sign proves that sometimes, some people DO have to wait that long. So…you might be among them. In fact, the existence of the sign indicates that there’s been a problem at that particular location, and this is their attempt to remedy it. But notice the sign doesn’t say they’ll do anything about it – it just says to let them know, as if they’re on some sort of twisted fact-finding mission. I’ve walked up to the desk a couple of times to inform them of the long wait, and they don’t do anything. They just say that they’ll remind the doctor (or whoever) that you’re waiting, and they ask you to go have a seat again.

Anyway, we didn’t have to wait fifteen minutes, but we did wait more than ten. Then we were shown to another room where we waited longer. Does the fifteen minutes “reset” at this time? I don’t know.

So then this nurse begins helping us. Despite the fact that Isla had just been measured and weighed at home, she felt the need to do it again. Which, is fine, but I thought it was funny she had to use this super-high-tech, digital computer thingy to weigh Isla, while the midwives just placed Isla in a sling and held it up as a spring registered the weight. The nurse got approximately the same weight, but she got a length measurement about two inches more than the midwives got. Despite her high-tech equipment, the nurse’s measurement was wrong, as Jennifer and I re-measured Isla at home and there’s just no way she’s more than 20 inches long, much less 21 inches (unless you pull one of her legs out of it’s socket. Do infants even have sockets yet?).

While on the super-high-tech weighing bed, Isla peed. The nurse said to Isla: “Oh, you naughty girl.” She said it in a playful manner, but I don’t like the implication. Isla didn’t do anything wrong – because peeing spontaneously, when 9 days old, and fully naked, seems like a perfectly natural, normal thing to do. There are so many other better things she could’ve said. Maybe I should’ve said something at that point, but all I could think to say was: “Fuck you, bitch.”

Then the nurse carried Isla back to the exam room. This, again, isn’t really a problem, but it’s funny that the midwives haven’t even held Isla yet. And when they’ve needed to handle her, they’ve said things like: “Is it okay if you put Isla in the sling here, so we can weigh her?” It’s just a different attitude. To me, the nurse is thinking: “I’ve gone to college for this sort of thing, so I know best how to carry an infant back into an exam room.”

And here’s the funny thing: she didn’t know how to carry a baby at all. She held Isla out, away from her body, as far as possible, as if Isla was some disease-carrying receptacle that needed to be disposed of. Isla is easily startled, so she was quite frightened to be held out, limbs flailing, being carried through a cold and unfamiliar place by someone who smells like iodine.

Anyway, the doctor was fine, but I wasn’t in a good mood after all that. The bottom line is, home visits from people who treat birth and infants with the respect and sacredness they deserve easily trump corporate drones who are instructed to treat the human body as a pathology.

Wednesday, 04 August 2010

Wanna know what I don’t like? That my kid was born in the middle of the summer.

I know, I know. It’s not her fault. We certainly could’ve had a baby born in May again, or even this coming September, but instead, we chose the hottest month of the year. Yech! Never again.

Let me whine about some of the problems inherent in having a newborn in July:

Do I want this tiny little body up against mine? No, not really. It just makes me hotter.

Should I turn the air conditioning on so we’re all comfortable, but so that she’s freezing? Or should I leave it off, so she overheats? Hmm. Decisions; decisions.

And did I just say turning on the air conditioning makes me comfortable? Sorry, I lied. I hate air conditioning. It’s such phony air. It dries me out, the noise is irritating, and I can’t sleep with it on. Of course, when dealing with (first) and pregnant wife and (then) a newborn baby, my preference doesn’t account for much. Central air, incidentally, is fine, if it’s regulating such a big building that it, somehow, becomes natural. I’m not sure what the difference is, but I hate air conditioning in my own and other people’s homes, yet I’m fine with it at work and at really big places like malls. Most small stores and restaurants are also annoying, as they keep the place too cold.

Anyway, the bottom line is: future babies (if any) will not be arriving in June, July or August.

Thursday, 05 August 2010

Isla received her first non-family visitors today. Our friends Ryan and Esther came over, with gift and dessert in tow. They stayed longer than our last bout of company, which was fine because A) they’re calm people, and B) we were getting bored with no external interaction.

On another note, I still don’t have any regular internet here at home. It’s frustrating, because I definitely have some time to do some things online, but I just can’t seem to get online. When I first start/open up my computer, then I have a connection for about five minutes. This is just about long enough for my emails to come in. In the meantime, I’ve taken to responding to emails and just letting them sit in the outbox until the next time I open my computer. I’ve also been updating this blog in Word, which works decently enough, but doesn’t allow me to make sure I got everything right or to insert links, videos, or images.

Sunday, 01 August 2010

Today was a bit exhausting. First, the midwives paid a visit. Isla now weighs seven pounds and six ounces…which is exactly what she weighed the day she was born.  This shows that she’s a voracious eater, since babies tend to lose weight in the first few days after they’re born. So, if indeed Isla did lose some weight during the last 100 hours of so, she made up for it.

This afternoon, Jennifer’s parents and grandma paid a visit. Jennifer’s mom had already been here before, but for her dad and grandma, this was their fist time seeing Isla. I took a picture of Jennifer with her mom, grandma, and Isla, which I think is pretty cool, since it’s four generations of girls. It kind of matches a similar picture, taken four years ago, of me with Owen and my dad and his dad.

Then, later this afternoon, my sister and her husband came by. My sister had a bagful of clothes for the baby. She also had two books of mazes for Owen. For some reason, during the past few days, Owen has been trying to locate this book of mazes he used to have. I don’t think we have that book anymore, and I tried looking up mazes online, but my internet access has been spotty. So, when my sister asked if we needed anything, I asked her to pick up a couple of maze books for Owen. I think it’s a good idea, if someone’s gonna come over with a bagful of stuff for the new baby, to also bring something for Owen. So that worked out well.

Also today: Owen passed out the chocolate cigars for the first time. He seemed very proud to do it.

Monday, 02 August 2010

Today we made some ink footprints of Isla’s feet. Yes, yes, I know it’s a little bit later than hospital’s recommend, but hospitals can go fuck themselves. Actually, the midwives left us some acid-free paper and a Kleen-print footprinter a few days ago, but we didn’t like the results. I mean, it seems like a good idea: you just place the infant’s foot on this screen, and press it onto paper, but the results aren’t as appealing as the old-fashioned approach of just getting a whole bunch of ink everywhere. So I went out and bought an ink pad and some more paper. It took about five tries, but I think we eventually got it.

And this brings up something that annoys me about stores lately: too much selection. Michael’s has about six million different kinds of paper for sale. I guess that’s fine, because I know different kinds of paper have different uses, but I just wanted to buy a couple of acid-free white sheets. That’s it. White paper. Couldn’t find it. I actually had to go ask for help, and one employee had to actually page another employee who “specializes” in that sort of thing. Even that person had two options for me. Sheesh. Can’t a guy just buy plain white paper anymore?

Tuesday, 03 August 2010

Isla lost her cord stump today. This is a big milestone that, evidently, is a little on the soon side. Owen called my mom today to give her an update on how the baby is doing, and when he said she lost her cord, my mom blurted out (because my mom blurts out everything): “Oh my, already? That was quick!”

Her belly button still looks puckered up and has some scabbing in it, but I’m glad that cord stump is gone, because- ouch – that thing looked like it hurt. I was always afraid that I was going to accidentally rub past it when picking her up or putting her clothes on. So, at least that’s one less thing to worry about now.

Also: on to the matter of updating this blog. I really tried to update it sooner, I really did! My problem, however, has not been the business of taking care of a new baby and a recently-gave-birth wife, or of losing sleep, but of the internet itself. My wife has complained about our poor internet service for sometime, but until last week, it hasn’t been a problem for me. I’m not sure why my computer was successfully able to get onto the internet, but hers was not, but now I appear to have the same issue. For the most part, I’ve been updating my blog during my breaks at work, so our internet operation at home has been a non-issue. But now, with so much time off of work, I’ve been trying to spend more time online here at home, and the WWW just isn’t cooperating with me. Stupid free wireless that I’m stealing!

Wednesday, 28 July 2010

So, I am a father…again. But this time to a daughter! Isla Fayette was born on 28 July at 5:04 in the morning. She was born on a Wednesday, just like her dad. Unlike Owen and me, however, she was born on a bright, sunny day (once the sun rose, that is).

Regarding the birth, there’s probably not too much else I can or want to say here on this blog beyond what I already wrote on Owen’s blog, which you can read here: CLICK THIS. I suppose it’s time to update that blog, too, since it’s not just for Owen any longer.

Speaking of Owen, he’s been a big help. He’s more than happy to hold Isla, or just put his hand on her head. He helped me drain the tub, too. He kept making sure the line wasn’t chinked and he kept running into the bathroom to ensure the water was draining away down the toilet.

My two big concerns about having the tub here at the apartment were, first, that the weight of the tub would cause it to go crashing through the floor and, second, that I’d do something wrong in filling or draining the tub and end up spilling a couple of hundred gallons onto the floor. As it turns out, a little bit of competence – and some of that help from Owen – keeps any spills from happening. The only slight problem I had was that, contrary to what the woman who delivered our tub told us, I couldn’t just set the hose in the toilet and set the seat on top of it. This is because either the water pressure was too strong and it flung out of the toilet, or the water pressure was so weak that the weight of the toilet seat squeezed the hose and prevented the tub from draining. So I pulled out the trusty duct tape, and all was well.

Actually, living in an apartment provided two positives for using a birth tub. First: there’s essentially unlimited hot water. See, in a house, I would maybe have 50 gallons of hot water, and then would need to wait while the heater refilled and heated before filling the tub the rest of the way. But here, I just turned on the cold and hot water all the way and – viola! –the tub was filled in <30 minutes. Second: big garbage bins. In a house, I would’ve had to stuff a lot of stuff into our garbage bin, but here, I just carried out the tub liner and some other pieces of trash and flung them into oblivion.

Thursday, 29 July 2010

Today, Owen and I ran out to Abdallah Chocolate Factory in Burnsville to pick up some chocolate “It’s a Girl!” cigars (which you will receive if you are one of Isla’s first 24 visitors). Afterward, I asked Owen if he wanted to see where I grew up, since it’s only about a mile from the Chocolate Factory. Owen said yes, so I drove on.

I drove him to a mobile home park. I lived in that park for nearly 15 years: over seven years in one mobile home, and seven more years in the next mobile home. It was very strange driving into the park. After years of sitting in the back seat as a kid, or riding my bike around the park, suddenly I was there as an adult. All sorts of memories came flooding back. I showed Owen the hill my sister and I used to race our bikes down, I showed him where I waited for the bus, the Laundromat, the playground, and I even pointed out the former residences of people I used to know.

But here’s the depressing thing: neither mobile home I lived in was there any more. I knew that the first one I live in was gone, because that one was gone years ago. So I showed Owen the lot where mobile home #24 was located, but then when I took him over to lot #56, well, that mobile home wasn’t there either. It was replaced with an inferior mobile home.

That’s another thing – I know it sounds silly to say so, but Camelot Acres used to be a nice mobile home park. My parents even had to pay extra to live there because it was rated the nicest one in the state. They had all these silly rules, like no playgrounds in the yards, no fences, and no dogs, just to keep the place looking nicer. Unlike nearly every other mobile home park, they didn’t have any speed bumps, either. Now…things are different. There’s a trashy fence behind lot #24, blocking the hill where we once grew a massive garden. Lots of yards had rusted, cheap playgrounds, and worst of all – there are now speed bumps! Yuck! Even the park – which used to have that regal sounding name of Camelot Acres (the rental office was built to look like a castle!) – has now changed its name to Arbor Vista. Arbor Vista? What’s with that? That’s like, the blandest name ever. What housing community doesn’t cobble together two words consisting of something relating to plants and something relating to how those plants are treated?

I think Owen could sense my disappointment. Me, I was surprised how disappointed I could be about a freakin’ mobile home park I haven’t lived in for many years.

Friday, 30 July 2010

Today was the first day that felt like a new routine was starting. There was no visit from the midwives today, and Owen and I didn’t go out to run any errands. The four of us just stayed home. We took some pictures of Isla in her coming home outfit, and we shot some video.

Isla slept better last night than she did on her first night. I am hoping to not repeat Owen’s first year of life, wherein he screamed every night from 8:00 – midnight. He was a good sleeper, though, it was just a matter of getting him to that state of unconsciousness. Last night, I paced the apartment with Isla in my arms, trying to get her to sleep. She was alert – staring at me and looking at the lights from outside the windows – but at least she wasn’t making any noises. This is good, because I don’t mind becoming tired as much as I mind becoming insane.

Saturday, 31 July 2010

Here’s some recent dialogue…

Me: Owen, did you just toot?

Owen: No, that was Isla. It’s always Isla.

Later…

Me (handing Owen a wrapped up dirty diaper): Here, Owen, can you go throw this away for me?

Owen: Eww. No. I’m not gonna do that. Don’t ever ask me to do that again.

Speaking of infants’ bodily functions, I totally forgot this (or maybe it was a mental block), but did you know that newborn babies like nothing more than to get poop on their ankles? Yep, it’s true, their legs are constructed in such a way so that they snap, frog-like, into this tightly balled-up position wherein their ankles are squarely snugged next to their butt hole. Normally, this is a really cut thing – “Aww, look how cute her little legs are, all folded up like that!” But when changing a diaper, it’s not so cute. See, the adult has to use their hands to get the diaper off, so they’re not paying attention when SNAP! Those legs fold up and ankles meet anus. Newborns especially love to do this if they have socks on.