Going out

One of the major milestones of new motherhood is going grocery shopping alone with the new baby for the first time. Going out anywhere alone with the new baby is terrifying, and the grocery store in particular. Even veteran moms grimace when you mention taking children to the grocery store (I've heard it doesn't get easier as they get older). The reason is unclear, but it's a combination of the bathrooms not being particularly savory and the fact that grocery stores rank somewhere around the drivers license place as receptacles for "crazies."

My goal was to make the trip as fast and easy as possible. However, my first step was a risky one. I left before the baby was completely asleep. Really, it was foolish of me. The second rule of newborndynamics clearly states that newborns break down into chaos and disorder in their natural state unless something prompts them to reverse the flow. I was hoping that the car ride would do just that.

It did. Kalina seems to like her carseat (we discovered recently that she loves staring at the underside of the canopy. Of all the boring things to stare at...), and she only made a few peeps on the way over. I rationalized that if worse came to worse, I could turn around and drive the car right home. But she nodded off to semi-sleep, eyes only opening wide as we entered the store. She seemed scared, but was a trooper and soon went back to sleep. Apparently whatever was scaring her wasn't worth missing a good nap to worry about. Oh, to be young.

Speaking of the cart, that was obstacle number two. I've never figured out if it's chance or planning that has formed carseats to fit easily into carts (or for carts to fit perfectly under carseats). Before I left, I checked my carseat to see if it looked like it, too, would fit on a grocery cart. It was hard to tell, so I had no choice but to risk it.

As we arrived at the parking lot, I found myself wishing I'd watched my mom friends more carefully as they expertly removed their children and carseats from their cars, placed them on carts and wheeled them in. Why do they make it look so easy? Do I stand out as a newbie? At least my baby is tiny and therefore I understandably couldn't have had much practice. It took a couple tries, but I wrestled the carseat onto the cart. No one called social services, as far as I know.

Uh-oh, it's tipped pretty far back. Is that okay? I lifted the blanket covering Kalina to see if it looked like her feet were above her head, and therefore uncomfortable. They were about even. However, I realized that many lawn chairs and such are made with similar designs, so it must be okay. Right? No one was around to tell me, so once again I guessed and wheeled her into the store. She didn't scream, which means I must be doing something right. Right? I still don't know.

I found the food at the speed of light. I checked out (I patted myself on the back that I hadn't chosen to grocery shop on Saturday afternoon). We went home. Anticlimatic. There was some question when I was returning the cart as to whether it's better to wheel the baby with the cart to the cart return and then carry the baby in her carrier back to the car, or put the baby in the car (in the parking space one away from the cart return) and then return the cart. Unfortunately, I didn't ask myself this until I was in the middle of returning the cart, with Baby in the car. I felt like a bad mother for ditching my child, but it worked out.

The best part about taking Kalina places with me is seeing strangers crane their necks to get a look at my adorable child. Their conversations went something like: "Look at that sweet little girl! What a cutie!" and "If only my children were that cute!" or even "That beautiful girl takes after her mom." Okay, maybe not that last one.

Of course, I can't help but think that every conversation in the store must, in fact, revolve around my baby. Security cameras must be following us around, for instance, and it's all I can do to not answer "Thank you, we think she's amazing, too!" to anyone who so much as says "Paper or plastic?" to me. Because she's just that cute.

Anyway, I DID IT! I accomplished the feat of grocery shopping with my baby, with no screams from either of us! I feel like I should get a sticker somewhat akin to the "I voted" stickers they pass out at the polls. Instead, I got a cold reception from the cats (even the bad, yet friendly cat barely blinked at me) and the opportunity to now put all the groceries away.

Pediatrician visit!

We visited the pediatrician today for Kalina's 1-month appointment! Can you believe she's a month old? We can't. We brought along the grandparents (Matt's parents) to try to totally overwhelm the doctor, and we all had fun.

Our tiny baby isn't so tiny anymore! Before the appointment, we'd all guessed how much Kalina would weigh (incidentally, I'm glad we don't do that before my appointments). The highest guess, by Matt, was 7 lbs. 5 oz. Kalina exceeded that by almost half a pound, weighing in at 7 lbs. 11 oz.

Essentially, Kalina has gained more than an ounce a day since her 1-week visit. Babies are supposed to gain 1/2 ounce to 1 ounce a day. We're overachieving, apparently. So why am I not losing very much weight?

The pediatrician told us we could begin to adapt her feedings to our schedule, and to not do such silly things as waking her at night to eat. I thought back to last night at 3:36 when we began a feeding that kept us up until close to 5:00 (5:30 if you count the fact I didn't get to sleep very soon after she did), and the fact that we'd woken her up for it. Never again, sweetheart!

He said that a drop of blood extracted from Kalina's foot (much to her mother's dismay) at the hospital told us that she doesn't have any of at least 35 disorders. I have no idea which ones, but it's nice to know we're safe from them. Now we only have to worry about half a million other potential harms.

He also said we have a "soft" baby, which he equated with "good" by saying that a "hard" baby is "bad." I tried to refrain from wondering how many parents had been told by him that they had a "bad" baby and listened as he explained that "soft" means less tense, and therefore less likely to be fussy and colicky. Inwardly, I celebrated.

Kalina behaved amazingly well during the appointment. She wasn't happy to go in the first place, but once there she allowed the doctor to do the entire examination without making a peep. Why is she only this good for other people? Nevertheless, I was grateful and proud. What can I say, she's perfect!

An appointment full of good news! Don't get used to it: next time she gets her vaccinations. Tears all around.

Cow

Kalina: "Waaaahhh!"
Me: "Look, here's your cow!"
Kalina: "Waaa???"
Me: "Cow says 'moo!'"
Kalina: "Wa..."
Me: "Look, Cow kissed you!" (touching Cow's nose to Baby's cheek)
Kalina: ":)"

And so another diaper change has begun.

One of our most valuable baby items has been a small black-and-white-spotted stuffed cow. Ever since week 2 it's had an honored spot on our diaper-changing table (if, indeed, any spot there can be considered honored).

We introduced Cow to Kalina in week 2 because we were told babies that age enjoy black-and-white objects. Having, then, to choose between Cow and our bad cat, we picked Cow for her small size and ability to be obedient. Cow and Kalina have been friends ever since.

Cow and Mommy are great friends, too, as Cow provides much-needed distraction and babysitting abilities during much-dreaded diaper changes.

Kalina has always detested getting her diaper changed, usually because it keeps her from eating. She lets us know by her screams, the worst of which are the red-faced, squinty-eyed, open-mouthed silent type that make us wonder when our daughter will ever surface for air.

Cow helps for about 80% of Daddy's diaper changes and 20% of Mommy's (the following diaper change scenario, being typical, is not representative of Cow's involvement).

Here's how a typical diaper change unfolds for Daddy:
Place Baby on changing table beside Cow.
Change diaper while Baby stares happily at Cow.
Cuddle Baby.
When Baby gets fussy, pass her to Mommy for feeding.
Play video games.

And here's how a typical diaper change unfolds for Mommy:

Put Baby on changing table. Ignore whimpers.
Gather all necessary supplies so we can make this as quick as possible.
Place Cow near Baby's head and make sure Baby sees her. Play a little.
Ignore faint cries.
Take the plunge: undo the diaper.
Sing lullabies to try to soothe screaming baby or at least drown out screams.
Slide a new diaper under Baby.
Wipe Baby.
Notice an all-to-familiar wet warmth, probably brought on by excessive screaming.
Gently remind Baby that this will definitely not get this over with faster.
Review in mind the order of operations for fixing this problem now that my hand, the baby's bottom (and the foot she stuck in the puddle before I could prevent this), the changing pad cover, her onesie, the old diaper and the new diaper are all dirty.
Ignore Baby's red-faced screams. Hope neighbors are ignoring them too.
Slide Baby to a clean section of changing pad cover. Try to keep her feet and hands away from the dirty part.
Dry hands and clean with hand sanitizer.
While trying to keep Baby's hands and feet away from the mess.
Put aside all dirty diapers. Grab a clean one.
While trying to keep Baby's hands and feet away from the mess.
Put clean diaper on Baby.
While trying to keep Baby's hands and feet away from the mess.
Remove onesie. Ignore shrieks.
While trying to keep Baby's hands and feet away from the mess.
Give Baby a quick sponge bath with wipes.
While trying to keep Baby's hands and feet away from the mess.
Change changing pad cover.
Put on a clean onesie [this could be a separate post all in itself]. Hope Baby breathes again.
Spend the next 15 minutes, at least, calming Baby down.
Do laundry.
Hear the all-too-familiar noise that means another diaper change is in the near future.

*sigh*

Don't try this at home

How cute, a happy baby taking a bath!

How stressful, two tired parents bathing a cute baby for the first time.

The problem was that a baby bath brings with it so many hazards you don't even think about until you're there. Plus, you have to get pictures for the baby book and blog.

Too hot!
The first concern, so the baby instruction manuals and common sense told me, is the temperature of the water. Thank goodness we have a "bath bear," a slightly ugly plastic tile with a picture of a teddy bear on it provided by the local burn center to test the water. Is it their version of Smokey the Bear? I laughed when I saw it, but quit laughing as soon as it tauntingly told me the water was a bit on the scalding side. And then a bit on the icy side. And then just right (Story idea: Goldilocks and the three Bath Bears). Unfortunately, by the time we actually had the baby ready to plop into the tub, the water had cooled too much and I had to start over. Bath Bear saved the day again.

Too cold!
By now, Kalina was stripped precariously of her clothing and diaper and wrapped in a towel to stay warm. This is the second major concern of bathing a baby: letting the baby get too cold. We'd gathered all our supplies ahead of time and filled the tub, so now the only thing left was to actually bathe the baby. We prepared ourselves for screams, but, crazy enough, she seemed to like it! We covered her with a warm washcloth and then...wait, the camera!

This became one of the few times we've sacrificed our child's well-being (or at least her potential happiness) for our own selfishness. Probably more mine than Matt's, to be fair. Matt sprinted out of the room, Kalina's body temperature plummeted (or so the books would have you think) and I loudly encouraged Matt to "hurry." He snapped a few pictures while Kalina wondered what all the fuss was about and enjoyed her bath.

Too deep!
Uh-oh, is the water supposed to be up around their ears? Is it okay if water actually gets in their ears? If it's not up to her ears, is it really a bath or just a glorified sponge bath? Just how deep is it supposed to be? None of the baby books had bothered to say. I let out a little water to be safe.

Too slippery!
Our baby bathtub has a raised middle portion with a slip-proof coating surrounded by pools for the water. Except the slip-proof coating isn't really slip-proof and our baby doesn't exactly not squirm, so we constantly had to keep her from sliding into the pools. The bathtub did not, unfortunately, come with instructions for how to do this. Nevertheless, we managed to produce a clean, unscathed baby.

Oops!
Then we toweled her off as Kalina tried her hardest to eat the towel and whisked her into the nursery for a fresh diaper and clean, cute onesie. Kalina, however, had other plans (perhaps frustrated by her inability to get a good bite of the towel). She soiled her towel, her little tushie and Matt with one smooth move. We wiped her up and proceeded as planned. Matt then needed to bathe but settled for clean clothes and hearty handwashing.

Mission accomplished, our baby is "clean!"

3 weeks

Kalina is 3 weeks old today! We celebrated with several notable events, including the diaper change that wouldn't end (think Energizer bunny) and a great night of sleep (5 1/2 hours only interrupted once!). But there's more:

In an event that was very liberating for me, Kalina had her first bottle! Which is actually her second because she had a little bit of formula out of sheer desperation at the hospital (one of those middle-of-the-night-nurse-worried-us-into-it things). But we're counting this one as her first. I was ever so slightly horrified at 1.) the quantity she drank, 2.) the speed at which she drank it and 3.) the fact that she ate again just an hour and a half later. My question, then, is why am I not losing more weight?

Which leads to the second event: my first clothes-shopping trip since before Kalina was born, as part of my quest to become a "normal" person once again. Let me start by saying that my expectations were in line. After all, I'm still wearing maternity pants and some maternity shirts (not out of choice, believe me!) and I contentedly shopped a size or two up without bemoaning it too much.

Old Navy, my store of choice, was having an amazing sale. Perfectly good clothes were selling for $3! I couldn't believe my luck. When Baby was born, so was a new, tighter budget (to match my old, tight clothes), and $3 was right up my alley. I loaded my arms while my perfect baby slept under the watchful eye of my patient husband.

That is, until I went into the dressing room. I look like the Michelin man with stretch marks. New clothes didn't help; in fact, I think this was the first time I've left a store glad to not be buying anything. I preferred the clothes on my back and in my closet. The realization left me unsettled, and brought with it an increasingly familiar sense of sad humor.

The good part about the experience is that I'm going to make a killing on a new line of t-shirts. They'll have phrases such as "Baby fat" and "Body by Baby" printed on them so people know the change is temporary and for a good reason, not just because the wearer ate too much ice cream (or not only because the wearer ate too much ice cream).

In other news, we've started cloth diapering! I may write more about it later, but for now we'll leave it that although (or maybe because) Matt and I actually enjoy the challenge of diaper changes, Kalina requires 15 minutes of pacifier/jiggling therapy after each one.

I think she's smiled at me a couple times, in response to my smiles, but it's tough to prove. I'm debating whether to make it official in the baby book or wait until I can be sure. Then again, I also doubted labor.

And she even almost seems to be on a tentative schedule we can all live with (subject to change, of course).

Who'da thought that 3 weeks later we'd all be doing well, with a manageable level of chaos?

Olympics: Preggo vs New-mom

I've noticed my life has changed drastically in the last 3 weeks. For one, I look different. For another, there's a small cute person who insists on following me everywhere. I'm glad for the change although this new state of new-motherhood has its challenges just as pregnancy did. Why is everything the most difficult for those who could most use a break?

It makes no sense, so I decided to turn it into a competition: Olympic games pitting my pregnant self against my new-mom self. But don't let the word "games" fool you: not much of this is fun!

The mascot will be the panda (and I'm going to pretend I thought of it first) and, in the tradition of each, refreshments will be served. Preggo will be offering egg salad and donuts while new-mom will provide stale crackers. There will be no breaks or time-outs, ever. New-mom must always be accompanied by newborn.

Without further ado:

First event: Walking. For this event, competitors must walk a 1-mile course with some hills. It's a race. New-mom will use a stroller.
Commentary: As New-mom struggles to push stroller in a straight line, Preggo waddles past with an early lead. New-mom catches up at the first hill because although she has the extra weight of a stroller to push, Preggo has the lung capacity of a thimble and has to rest several times on the way up. The only thing that makes the race even close at this point is that New-mom begins to feel the pain of recovery. However, she pops a couple of Advil--something Preggo can't do--and finishes the race strong.
Winner: New-mom

Second event: Bending over. Players must pick up a series of household objects from the floor. Rankings are based on style, success and speed.
Commentary: Preggo knows just what to do--she alternates between the giraffe position and a simple squat to slowly and steadily retrieve her objects. Meanwhile, New-mom struggles with the fact she only has one free hand and must contain a floppy baby safely in the other. She attempts to use her feet to "hand" her the objects (if you hand something with your feet, is it still called handing?). The judges aren't impressed, however, ranking her frantic efforts at only a 6.5 (points taken off for baby's screams) while they give Preggo a solid 8.
Winner: Preggo

Third event: Sleeping. Players race to be the first to achieve 8 hours of sleep.
Commentary: Beginning with a well-fed baby, New-mom falls asleep faster than the speed her lightbulb can go out, while Preggo tosses and turns as much as a pregnant woman can. For the rest of the night she continues to wake every hour or so for at least a few minutes. Towards morning, she wrestles with insomnia again. Meanwhile, New-mom is awake for at least 1 hour out of every 3. She also is awake for an extended period of time in the early hours as the baby decides it would be a good time to play: in fact, she doesn't sleep more than 30 minutes between 3:30 am and 8:30 am. It takes Preggo 11 1/2 hours to get 8 hours of sleep, whereas it takes New-mom 18.
Winner: Preggo

Final event: Fashion & Hygiene. Contestants are assessed on their general appearance at three different times during the day. They're ranked on overall cleanliness as well as fashion sense.
Commentary: During the first checkpoint, both Preggo and New-mom are caught in their pajamas, unshowered. Preggo has brushed her teeth (New-mom probably won't get around to that until late afternoon), while New-mom has spit-up stains on her pajama shorts. The next checkpoint shows that Preggo has showered and done something with her hair and makeup. However, her toenails are a bit long, as is her leg hair. New-mom has showered but got interrupted, so she looks something like a wet rat. She's avoiding makeup like a dirty diaper pail, and her stubbornness will cost her some precious points. Both are dressed in real clothes, and New-mom gets points for almost looking like a normal person, even though she doesn't even fit into her fattest "fat" jeans yet. The final checkpoint finds Preggo back in pajamas, which she's dribbled ice cream on. New-mom has done her hair and put on a necklace in her ever-present quest to recapture a sense of normalcy, but has been spit up on again.
Winner: This one's a tie, with both contestants receiving a rating of 4.3.

It looks like the gold-medalist for this competition is Preggo. As a dubious reward, she will advance to the more-challenging New-mom level. Congratulations.

Pediatrician visit!

Across the world, people are releasing biodegradable balloons in celebration. They're feasting on ice cream and cake. Nations with long histories of turmoil are rebuilding, forgiving and moving forward in peaceable fashions. The world's rainforests are miraculously regenerating themselves and pandas are now plentiful.

In short, Baby has regained her birth weight! In fact, she's rocketed past it. The little girl who had only gained 2 oz. in 5 days last time we were at the pediatrician has now rounded out at 7 oz. in the 4 days since our Monday visit. Should we start cutting back?

Good thing she's gained all that weight, because we definitely missed a feeding last night. Matt and I both set our alarms. Matt slept through his. I woke up, got out of bed like only a mother can, wandered into the nursery, told Matt it was time for a feeding, wandered back to bed and decided to just catch a z or two before Matt brought her in. Turns out, I caught almost 2 more hours worth because just as I was drifing off, Matt was too (this morning he had no recollection of me having woken him up--I guess I need to try ice-cold-water harder next time :) ).

A normal baby would've screamed us awake, but Kalina does like her sleep. Fortunately, Matt woke up around 4:00 and got the baby up to eat. She went about 5 hours between feeding. Newborns are really only supposed to go 2-3. Oops. I think all of us were happier this morning for it, though.

The doctor said Kalina's umbilical cord had come off a bit prematurely, and put some gunk on it to protect it. Much better than that nasty stub, and I'm really glad it worked out for the doctor to see it.

All is well in the Odegaard household. We'll be celebrating with cake, ice cream and blessed, heavenly sleep.

Tune in next week when Kalina decides she actually does want to eat every 2 hours, now that she's no longer required to.

2 freakouts in 2 days

It's been a stressful couple of days.

In the very wee hours of Thursday morning, I was, of course, awake. I was also in pain, something I'm getting used to by now but still don't enjoy, despite all my lamaze instructor's best efforts. So what could the pain be this time? Was I going to have yet another baby? I chalked it up to the Bojangles potato salad I'd had the night before and decided it really needed to be gone by morning.

I woke up for the next feeding--the pain was all gone! Until I actually moved, at which point it felt as if someone had filled my insides with gravel.

By morning it had lessened to more of a dull, yet very painful when I moved, ache, but it was still there. I also felt crummy. My temperature was 99.6, and I had extra bleeding. Google told me I should've already called the doctor and I might have an infection. Oh joy. I called and began the long process of getting them to actually call me back.

Meanwhile, I was trying to take care of a newborn--not an easy task on the best of days. Morale was low.

When Matt got home, he, too, turned to Google. What I heard from him: "You may have endometritis. It should clear up just fine with antibiotics, but there's a chance you might have to stay in the hospital. Don't worry, it's fine."

What he told me later he actually read: "Endometritis can be fatal." On the way to the doctor's appointment he asked me what brand of formula we would use if we needed to.

The pain got worse as soon as what I might have had a name, and freaking out ensued. Which probably caused more pain and thus more freaking out.

My day was made a bit easier by the fact that my doctor's appointment (they finally called back) was scheduled directly between feedings--it really couldn't have been more perfect. Kalina and Matt came with me, just in case and because I wasn't really up to driving, and Kalina charmed everyone in the waiting area by her cuteness and angelic behavior. She was wide-eyed most of the time, even in the car on the way. Hopefully Matt, for his part, didn't charm too many people by his cuteness.

The doctor seemed a bit puzzled by me, but fortunately not in a "you're crazy, go home" kind of way. I mentioned endometritis (although I know I didn't pronounce it right) and he immediately ruled it out, a fact that concerned Matt (and me, too, to be honest). I also mentioned the Bojangles potato salad, which he also ruled out. I guess I'm not meant to be a doctor. After lots of questions and examining, he decided that there really was some sort of a problem (we don't know exactly what) and prescribed 2 drugs to take care of it. Whew. No hospital stay for me!

One of the prescriptions needs to be taken every 6 hours for 10 days. No problem--I'm up all the time anyway so it's not like I'll be losing any sleep. Until I read the fine print, which says I can't lay down for 30 minutes after taking each dose, meaning I have to take this at the beginning of a feeding or else I'll lose out on 30 precious minutes of sleep--which is sometimes a full 20% of what I get for the night. The timing worked out well enough last night (Matt agreed that I can fluctuate an hour either way) but I'm not optimistic. The other drug could give me contractions, although I just finished the last dose and haven't felt much.

I'm feeling much better this morning, thank goodness. It's either the medications or the fact that Matt and I both slept through one of Kalina's feedings (Kalina slept through it, too). Oops. She seemed quite content, though (she'd spent about 4 hours of the previous evening grazing), so we're pretty sure we're not the worst parents ever.

The second freakout involved the umbilical cord stump, which Matt had informed me was hanging by a thread. This is all very normal, but that hadn't prepared me for actually seeing the thread this morning. It, unfortunately, looked like real umbilical cord, and was accompanied by dried blood. Yikes!!!

It didn't help that Kalina was screaming for no apparent reason. I convinced myself that she was not only in physical pain, but in emotional turmoil as well, seeing this little piece of her falling off. Remember: she has yet to even lose a tooth. Even as I tried to be calm, I started screaming also, and we both had a mother-daughter freakout session. As precious as that sounds, I was glad when it was over. She quieted a bit and I held her a little while (while Google told me that blood is normal, as is having the stump fall off on day 13, and when it does come off I should clean the area well with alcohol, and by the way it doesn't hurt the baby) before deciding to change her diaper.

I carefully lifted her so as not to rip the chunk off by mishandling, but saw, more to my relief than disgust, that it had come off on its own and had nestled down into the diaper. Good, I didn't even have to touch it.

The raw cord-ness of the final string had folded over, or something, into the baby so I was left with relatively healed skin and a little dried blood. That I could deal with. Kalina was being sweet and quiet (I guess she was over the mental anguish), so cleaning the area was relatively mentally painless for me, and physically painless for her. Whew. Crisis overcome.

I'm looking forward to a relatively calm weekend, please.

And Matt makes 3

I admit, from the the beginning of the pregnancy I've thought of Baby Girl as mine. Kind of like my clothes are mine, and my chick flicks are mine--Matt is welcome to all of them, but they belong to me.

After all, the nausea, sleeplessness, aches, general largeness, acne, headaches, heartburn, indigestion, stuffy nose, bloody nose, exhaustion, dizziness, shrinking bladder, mood swings, leg cramps, overheating, kicks strong enough to hurt, a veggie-filled diet, needles, labor, recovery, pain, more pain and just as many things I won't even mention here have all belonged solely to me. Try as I might to get Matt to suffer along with me, usually through well-timed grimaces or complaints, he has chosen not to, short of a few words of sympathy. Misery loves company, but apparently my company doesn't love misery. Oh well.

So when Matt told me he wanted to help with nighttime feedings, it didn't really register. I simply didn't believe him. You want to do what? Awaken yourself fully in the middle of the night, perhaps more than once, and cater to a screaming bundle of...screams? And then change its diaper? And then try to get the bundle back to a peaceful sleep, a feat often successful only through wild gyrations and acrobatics that are somehow restful to the bundle? And once you have, return it to screams by changing its diaper again? You've got to be crazy.

He's crazy. He doesn't mean it. It's just one of his wild schemes. I nodded and smiled and forgot he ever said anything.

A few weeks later, he told me again. In one ear and out the other.

The next time he told me, more than halfway through the pregnancy, it finally started to sink in: all of a sudden, it's not just me and Kalina. There's someone else.

This could present some problems. For instance, what if he likes her better than me? On the other hand, what if he likes me better than her? Are Kalina and I going to be pitted against each other? I think I could take her, if need be, but I really don't want to have to do that.

So Matt decided he wanted to be Involved. I decided to give him a shot. After all, it's either let him help or enlist the cats, who so far either walk wide circles around the baby or nap on her changing table and are thus very little help at all.

It started out badly. Presumably making up for lost time, Matt decided to monopolize the baby on the day she was born. By evening I'd only held her a few minutes. Doesn't he know that he has 9 months of dues to pay before he can claim her in her few peaceful cute moments? And that my 9 months of carrying her don't exactly count as quality bonding time now that she's here in the flesh? Should I have the nurses send him away?

They were cute together so I gave him another chance. Besides, Baby Girl didn't seem to mind him too much. She's such a good sport.

Good thing I did. He's nicely possessive of her, and since I'm holding her about 56 hours per day, I don't mind sharing a little. Possessive in that he really likes the little tyke. Let's just say any potential prom dates are likely to run screaming from our house. Followed, probably, by Kalina, also screaming if the past 12 days are any indication. So far, he does 2/3 of the diaper changes, 1/2 the burping, most of the bathing and all of the nail trimming, a lot of it voluntarily, at least during daylight hours. It helps me get a break, although I admit I also feel a bit negligent. Aren't I supposed to be the one expertly taking care of the newborn while he stumbles around trying to swaddle her in a burp cloth?

So I think we'll keep Matt around, at least for now. As long as he never takes the place of Mommy!

Pediatrician visit

For some reason, I expected to find at the pediatrician's office today that Kalina had gained plenty of weight and was, in fact, close to being at her birth weight. This is the announcement all new parents look forward to, because it means we can let our babies sleep at night (if they will) rather than jolting them awake every couple of hours, a procedure that seems to be ensuring our child will put herself up for adoption as soon as she can say lawyer. I'm convinced this baby is all lung the way she screams.

Not the case, however, and we're a bit worried. She'd gained 2 ounces in 5 days--not great, but okay according to the pediatrician. We're going back on Friday to have her weighed again. I didn't point out, but wanted to, that she'd very recently soiled her diaper in a big way and maybe that would add an ounce or two.

And then there's the fact that we have to wake her for many of her feedings, and to complete a successful feeding in this case can easily take an hour and a half. She's supposed to eat every 2-3 hours, start to start, so if you do the math you'll see that this little baby wouldn't be getting much sleep (nor would her parents) if we really stuck to that schedule. We've been trying to strike a balance, and had felt like we were managing quite well.

We're reassured, though, that she's feeding plenty often and has the appropriate number of wet and dirty diapers--enough to fill a landfill each week (we haven't started with cloth diapers yet--one thing at a time).

Her weight was 5 lbs. 13 oz. Length was a surprising 19.5 inches. She shrank? More likely, she wiggled. She's in the 25th percentile for length, and the 5-10th percentile for weight. That seems scary, but the doctor said she's still within a normal range.

I'm sure she's fine--it's just not what we'd hoped. I guess I haven't slept well in 10 weeks now, so what's another few?

[I know I'm not guaranteed good sleep even once Baby is allowed to sleep all she wants, but the possibility is at least there. And that's a carrot I'm willing to chase for a long time.]

Day 9

On Saturday, Kalina turned 1 week old. So, how's it going?

Fortunately, we still think she's cute--even her "am I adopted? I sure hope so" faces. And I've been glad to see that taking care of a newborn is, in fact, possible. Like pregnancy, labor and sending a man to the moon. In fact, she's really a very good baby.

The thing is, though, she's a very good baby, which means we've both been spit up on. Nevertheless, here are some benefits of our particular model:

1. She's a good burper. Seriously, she's a pro. She really doesn't need our help much at all, but we go through the motions anyway to be good parents. She's much more likely to burp on her own, though, without our interference.

2. She's had no diaper blowouts. We all knew she'd be the perfect child.

3. She sleeps well. Sometimes too well, which can turn a 1-hour feeding into a 2-hour feeding, but at least we know once it's over with she'll go straight back to dreamland (where she's probably, once again, feeding).

4. She fits our huge stash of newborn diapers. Thanks to friends who stocked up only to produce big babies, we probably won't have to buy a diaper for at least another week! No, we haven't purposefully starved our child just to save a buck.

5. It's possible for her to be awake without crying or eating. About twice a day and it's really cute.

6. She responds well to baby-soothing tricks, thank goodness.

7. She doesn't really fuss much. That's not to say she doesn't demand, it's just all very calculated. So far, this is not a child who's simply moody.

8. She looks a bit like an elf.

One drawback is that the easiest way to wake her up is to put her in her crib for a nap. We've turned it into a benefit, though, as it's a great way to wake her for nighttime feedings.

Matt and I have not yet tried to sell our child or each other on ebay, which essentially means we're hanging in there. It helps that we're getting relatively decent sleep (3-5 hours per night). For me, it rivals some of my pregnancy nights, so I can't complain.

In fact, I think I struck gold in this category. For one, I married someone who enjoys sleeping in recliners. For another, I have a brother who donated a very squishy, massive recliner to us around the time we figured out we were pregnant. Seeing as the thing takes up fully half of the room, I would've vetoed the decision to drag it home, except you should've seen the look on Matt's face: Christmas times ten.

So we now own a beast of a recliner, and it's in the baby's room. Matt seems to enjoy sleeping in the recliner more than in the bed (should I be worried?) so he readily volunteers for nighttime duty: essentially, when she wakes up, he evaluates whether she's really actually hungry and then brings her to me (or me to her) for a meal. So if Matt and the baby are in the nursery sleeping, that leaves an extra-comfy, full-size bed in a quiet room all to myself. I've traded my husband for a few hours of sleep a night (should he be worried?), but considering we spend many hours of the night together bonding over diaper changes, I think we'll be alright.

Pediatrician visit!

We all went to the pediatrician yesterday. The appointment was for 10:00 am but they needed us there at 9:30 for paperwork, and Matt said when he scheduled it the receptionist was skeptical we'd be able to make it on time, so I was determined we would.

I definitely cut it close, but when at 6:15 yesterday morning I hadn't slept yet, my determination changed and I decided that it was more important for me to get an hour or two than to be absolutely sure of making it to the office by 9:30 to fill out two forms. I bravely told Matt to wake me up at 8:00 so I could shower, feed Kalina and eat breakfast in time to rocket out the door at 9:25. I knew it was futile, but I also knew that if everything worked perfectly, we could make it. Baby's eating sessions are relatively fast, for one, as are my showers nowadays.

I woke up at 7:45 and, since Baby was sleeping (having, in fact, just fallen asleep 15 minutes prior, according to Matt), wolfed down a large bowl of cereal. She was still sleeping when I finished so I dampened myself in the shower and even washed my hair and dried it. Things were going great. I had just enough time to feed her and, in fact, rocket out the door at 9:25 as planned (never mind I woke up 15 minutes early).

But Baby was happy sleeping and didn't really feel like eating. Okay, then, Baby, you're getting your diaper changed and your onesie changed. Not liking this turn of events, Kalina screamed that she wouldn't mind eating after all, in fact, anything's better than a diaper change. Yet midway through eating, she decided to soil it again. If you hate diaper changes, Baby, why do you keep getting them dirty? Or is it just clean diapers you hate?

We finally left for the appointment at 9:45 and arrived late. *sigh* The receptionist kindly gave us a gentle hard time. Fortunately, the office wasn't busy at all and we didn't have to wait long. The forms, by the way, took all of 10 minutes.

The doctor was great. Matt bonded with him over science stuff and I was pleased to hear he spent his college years in Iowa. Together, we trash-talked the anti-vaccine crowd (even though secretly I have some doubts, because I can't help but worry).

First, we weighed Kalina. Something must be going well, because she was back up to her discharge weight of 5 lbs. 11 oz. We were told we could probably stop waking her for nighttime feedings sometime next week. Now, someone just needs to tell Baby she can stop waking us for nighttime feedings.

A side note: is it evil of me to want o stop feeding her altogether because she's just so tiny and cute and I don't want her to change?

Then the doctor examined her and asked us questions. What's her disposition when she's awake? Intelligent, sweet and a bit eccentric. Does she like to eat? Of course, she's my child.

He listened to her heart and lungs with a stethoscope he must've just taken out of the freezer, the way Kalina screamed. He also looked in her eyes and checked her umbilical cord stump. He said her complexion was excellent. Truthfully, it seemed that there wasn't much to evaluate at this point--they probably were looking at us as parents more than her as our baby. Nevertheless, I was thrilled to be told that she's perfect. I really do think doctors know parents like hearing that word.

The best part was that everyone at the office said she's beautiful. I have to agree. Not that I could possibly look at her objectively, but I really do think there's no doubt she's adorable, and I like to be told that at every opportunity. I would imagine it does something for her psyche as well.

We go back on Monday, hopefully for more of the same. We scheduled this one in the afternoon.

Baby's new home

This is officially the nursery post. I planned to do a big nursery post, but that was before Baby decided to make an early arrival, and also before the final piece was in place: an end table to hold the cutest lamp I've ever seen. Of course, the nursery wouldn't have been complete without the cute lamp, so the post had to wait.

The post was going to be about how high-maintenance babies are, with all their stuff. And probably Matt's reaction to it--his "my wife's gone crazy and I just have to roll with it" attitude that has sailed us through many a weird situation.

Fortunately, it's now going to be about how amazingly useful a nursery is. In short, I've been vindicated. It turns out that I'm actually not crazy, and a 6-pound baby really does need 100x her weight in "stuff." Matt admitted being pleasantly amazed at everything I'd managed to pull together before Kalina moved in.

It's like camping. You can camp with nothing more than two sticks to rub together to make fire. Or, you can buy all kinds of yummy campfire food, extra-soft sleeping pads, tents you can stand up in and portable showers and haul it with you. It's a lot of extra work and expense, but it sure does make camping a lot easier on those of us who appreciate a little comfort. That's what baby supplies do.

And so far, so good. Except for one trip to Wal-Mart yesterday to pick up the aforementioned end table, we've had on hand everything Baby could possibly need, lamp and all. I think she appreciates our foresight, seeing as we manage to keep her relatively comfortable except when we're torturing her with diaper changes and sponge baths.

But then there's the cuteness factor. Fortunately, Kalina is pretty adorable, so I think it makes sense somewhere in Matt's scientific mind that her gear needs to be adorable as well. It's a correlation thing: cute baby = cute stuff. At least I hope that's the connection he's making, or he's going to spend the next 18 years very confused all the time. Poor guy.

Cuter, even, than a kitten

The moment we've all been waiting for finally arrived: Baby Girl is here! Or, more accurately, Kalina Lynn Odegaard. She was born on Saturday, June 28 at 3:45 pm, weighing a tiny 6 lbs, 1 oz and measuring 20 inches long. She's amazingly precious and more endearing than kittens, which I was expecting but am relieved and thrilled is true.

Here's the story, truncated for my (and Kalina's) convenience.

Labor: It started at 10:45 pm on Friday night, with Baby seeming to be trying to rocket herself from my ribs out the door. She settled down later and was really a trooper throughout the whole thing. Matt and I were both in major denial for the first few hours until we realized, whoops, we probably should've called the doctor by now and whoops, my water broke and we're not even done packing. We weren't really panicked, just startled. We headed to the hospital.

It was overwhelming and felt fast. If I'd known what I was going to go through I would've politely declined at the front door of the hospital and figured out a different plan. It's hard to be proud of delivering when I was already almost begging for an epidural before being in really active labor, but I am proud of the fact that I actually labored most of the way without an epidural (by no choice of my own!) and pushed for only 45 minutes, earning even the doctor's compliments.

Upon entering the world, Baby Girl seemed to want to see all of it. Wide-eyed and with at least 1 hand in her mouth at all times, she surveyed everything within the 2 inches in front of her she could see.

I got to play with her a while before they whisked her away. Matt and I got settled into a baby-sized room. I sent him out for a footlong Subway sandwich that we shared. I hadn't had cold deli meat since before pregnancy (and therefore craved it the whole way through) and Matt therefore had the good sense not to get it toasted. We took pictures of the baby's every move, but still don't feel we have any that truly do her justice. The next day we finally named her, trying with some success to break the habit of calling her Baby K or other such indescript names.

I thought the hospital stay might be boring, but it wasn't. Between nurse visits, showing Kalina off to guests and learning how to take care of her, we barely even ate. But it was all fun! We even got some decent sleep the second night, mostly because even though we told the nurses we wanted her to room in, they'd take her away randomly during the night and "forget" to bring her back. I still haven't figured out if I'm annoyed by that or grateful.


Yesterday we came home! The pediatrician said she's perfect in every way (but we all already knew that, right?), and I'm recovering swimmingly. I look like I'm about 5 months pregnant, which in my case means I barely need maternity pants. Yes, I'm bragging. Kalina, by the way, was overwhelmed even by newborn clothes. She slept the whole way home as I tried to keep her head from wobbling too much and Matt stopped at every yellow light.

We're just starting to get to know her, but we can tell you she has the cutest high-pitched cry and likes to have her hands in her face (leading to some sad scratches and the reason why she's wearing socks on them in the picture). She's a quiet sleeper, she grips well and she melted my heart the first time she calmed down for me and no one else, just because she wanted me, personally, to hold her. She likes me! What a little sweetie.

We still can hardly believe we're now parents to such a healthy, beautiful baby and thank God for this amazing little creation.

[No babies were ignored in the creation of this post. It was typed entirely one-handed.]