Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Minnesota bridge collapse
I-35W bridge over the Mississippi River collapsed in downtown Mpls. I hope that everyone is okay - I see reports of injuries, but no reports of fatalities.CNN has it as their lead story on their webpage.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
The Stranger
Well, little miss Helena had her two-month appointment with the pediatrician last Friday. She's up to 23.5" in length now, and she weighed in at 10 pounds, 13 ounces. She was a sweet, friendly little sprite through the entire appointment, right up until the nurse held her legs down and jabbed her with three different needles.I think it was harder for her father and I to see her crying so hard (we've never seen her that distraught), although I'm sure it was no picnic for her, either. She slept through most of last weekend, and didn't eat much as a result of the vaccinations. But now she's back to normal, although our sweet little peanut has been sleeping through the night for about the last week.
Oddly enough, it feels like Dad & I are getting less sleep than ever. :-\
I've been back at work for three full weeks now, and it's so difficult. So much more difficult than I anticipated. I come home at lunch to pump and see her for a few minutes, but I don't really get a chance to bond with her. I've taken to nursing her exclusively in the evenings, as long as circumstances permit, but I still feel like she's closer to her Dad than she is to me. Not that I begrudge him a bond with our daughter, but I feel this biological imperative to keep her close to me, to connect with her, and it feels like I'm denying this vital part of myself by leaving her every day.
When I come home in the evenings, her smiles are all for her Dad, as they should be... he's the one that feeds her all day, changes her diapers, plays with her, and meets all of her needs. By the time I get home, why should she try to connect with me, when she's been relying on Daddy all day? She only sees me for a few hours before she falls asleep, and when she does fall asleep, she'll only do so as long as she's in Dad's arms.
I don't blame either of them - I just envy that they get to connect, and I feel like an interloper.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Letter to Helena - Month 2
Dear Helena,Two months into this world, my little peanut. What do you think of it so far?
Over the last two months, you've been getting more and more fun each day. Your smiles are deliberate now, and you'll light up when someone you know plays with you, or when we smile down at you, or sometimes just when we change your diaper. There's no more awesome thing in the world, as far as your Dad and I are concerned, than seeing your lips curl into that great little muppet grin. (A grin that always seems to wink away before the cameras can catch it, but we're going to keep trying.)
I had to return to work halfway through this second month, and I miss you more than I ever expected to. Before you actually arrived, I thought that I'd get bored staying home all of the time, and that I'd be itching to return to work after my maternity leave was up. The last couple of weeks of that time home with you were the hardest, because all I could think about was how my time home with you was almost at an end, and how I'd be missing out on all of your newly discovered "words" and smiles. I think I miss the cuddles the most, though.
I definitely miss the cuddles the most.
You're rapidly outgrowing so many of the tiny little sleepers and onesies that we (and your other family members) bought for you to wear. While I am relieved that you're obviously going to overcome the Irish genes I've passed along, at least with regard to height, it's an all-too-painful reminder that you're only going to be tiny for a short time, and that, despite our best efforts to the contrary, you're going to grow up way too fast. But, baby girl, no matter how big you get, you're always going to be my little peanut.
Love,
Mama
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Hey!
So she's getting a little more alert. :) Here she is, in her new favorite position - peering over Mama's shoulder. Waaay too much muscle tone for a 7-week old.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Letter to Helena - Month 1
Helena,Well, kiddo, welcome to the world. To paraphrase Vonnegut, it's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. The day you were born, I was out of doors for maybe 20 minutes total, so if you're really interested in historical weather facts, you'll have to check with your father when you're old enough to talk. He's got a head for that sort of thing.
Your dad and I were filled with a sort of nervous anticipation about your birth; a feeling that didn't dissipate once the doctor induced labor and revealed that you had passed some meconium into the fluid surrounding you. The doctor told us that due to that potential complication, they'd need to have a team of NICU nurses standing by when you arrived, so that they could make sure you were going to be okay. I began to worry even more, but your dad was good at hiding his own nervousness enough to reassure me that you'd turn out just fine.
Eight and a half hours after labor started, you were born. The doctor laid you, warm and squirming and slightly purple, on my chest for a few seconds so I could see you. You tilted your head up and grabbed me with your big, bright, blue-grey eyes. You didn't cry or fuss, and as soon as the umbilical cord was clamped and cut, they rushed you over to the baby-warmer, where a team of no-nonsense NICU nurses pushed thin hoses into your lungs to extract any trace of fluid you might have inhaled. I still hadn't heard you cry at that point, and kept asking your dad if you were okay. He and the nurses confirmed that you were fine, and in fact, most perfect.
As if there was ever any doubt.
You were born at 6:24 PM (central standard time). 624 also happened to be the room number we stayed in for the duration of our hospital visit. We let you spend that first night in the nursery, with the pacifier-bearing nurse-moms, but we kept you with us the next night, parked in your little plastic baby bin at the end of my hospital bed.
You didn't really find your vocal cords until you were hungry (and hungry you were, when late that first night a nurse wheeled you into our room, mewling like a furious banshee), but you made some entertaining whimpering noises that made us wonder if you weren't part puppy. You still do, although now you've added some really cute cooing noises to your vocal repertoire.
We spent a lot of time in the room simply staring at you, in your various stages of sleepiness. We had several visitors, and gleefully showed you off to the friends and family members that stopped by to meet you. Even now, we love introducing you to people that we know so that they can fawn over you and make as much of you as your father and I enjoy doing. I tend to get a bit possessive when it comes to other people holding onto and cuddling you, and your dad confessed to the same impulse. Luckily for us, you seem to like it best when we're snuggling you.
In the last month, you've endured a lot. You've gone from a content, squirmy little peanut blissfully floating along in womb-ville, nary a care in the world, to an occasionally irate little eating machine that never appears to need to sleep. Undoubtedly, you'll change again, and again, and again as the days and weeks and months go on. Whatever happens - however little sleep, however much milk, whatever level of snuggling that you decide you need - you'll always be my baby girl.
I love you, Helena.
Mama
Thursday, May 24, 2007
She has arrived!
On May 14th at 6:24 PM, Helena Elke made us a family. She joined the world at 8 pounds, 0.2 ounces, and 20.5 inches in length. She's a beautiful girl that continues to amaze us every day.