A year ago this time, I wasn’t pregnant. Or at least I didn’t know it.



A year ago this time, I quit drinking diet coke and started going to yoga more regularly.

A year ago this time, I was trying to have a baby.

David was conceived sometime in the month of May. Last year, this time, he was just a concept and now he’s a three-month old boy who has big blue eyes.

It seems like such little time has passed since he’s been born and at the same time I can’t imagine life without him. Having a baby has been a trying experience in so many ways. In the last week, he hasn’t slept longer than a three-hour stretch day or night and he seems to only be able to take a nap that last longer than twenty minutes if he’s in the car or attached to my breast. He eats in small bits and likes to bit or wiggle around. Two nights ago, he pooped twice in the middle of the night and three times in a row at six in the morning. He pooped right as I was changing him, all over my hand. Last night, he peed himself three times and I had to change him three times, which meant he woke up completely and it took me an hour to wind him down back to sleep. I haven’t been able to do anything that takes more than thirty minutes in the last three months. I have washed my pajamas and daily clothes at least thirty times to clean the spit ups. I can’t even count the number of laundry loads we washed of David’s clothes. I have books I want to read. Projects I want to complete. I want to update my site more. I want to take photos. I want to keep better track of David’s first months. But none of that is happenning. All I do is feed and play with David and try to put him to sleep.

The same three months have brought the biggest joys of my life. I know it’s cliche but he really did change my life and he really is the most amazing thing that ever happened to me. I don’t mean that the rest of my life doesn’t matter and I don’t think I would like to give up who I am. But each time I look into David’s smiling face and his shiny eyes, I can’t believe he came out of me. Jake and I made this little man. This little, happy man. And no other accomplishment in our lives will ever compare to that.

Happy three-months little boy.

This month’s obsession is sleep. I am sure I will write more about it as the obsession gets deeper and deeper, but tonight I want to specifically talk about middle-of-the-night feedings. At eleven weeks, my little one is still waking up several times for night feedings. The quantity generally depends on the quality and the amount of time I invest in burping him. For those people who said that breastfed babies don’t need to burp at night: You don’t know shit!

The middle of the night feedings are supposed to be quiet. The point is to quickly go to the aide of your little one, quietly feed him without rousing him too much, burp him, and put him back to sleep. You’re not to even change him unless he’s pooped. This way, he doesn’t fully awaken and thus it’s easier for him to fall back asleep. Makes sense, right?

I am pretty good at getting to him before he cries himself awake. At the first sound of hunger, thanks to my ultra-sensitive monitor, I rush to his side and make sure his eyes are open signaling actual hunger and not sleep talking. I pick him up and put him on the feeding pillow and we rock back and forth while I feed. It’s perfectly quiet for the first ten minutes. And then….

ACHOOOO!



My sneeze pierces through the night, making both me and my peacful baby jump. His eyes are wide open now and he doesn’t know what just happened.

ACHOOO! ACHOOO! ACHOOO!

Just in case he had decided to go back to sleep, my allergies let him know that’s out of the question. My sneezes pile on top of each other. Then to add to the punishment, my nose starts dripping. So actively that I have to actually blow it disabling all of David’s attempts to find that sleepy place. We’re talking fifteen nose-blows before the faucet of a nose I have will quit. Actually it doens’t even quit, it merely takes a break until I am leaning over to put David back in his crib. Then it decides to drip once more.

Now I have a conundrum. Do put him down more quickly to rush for a tissue and risk awaking him or do I let my nose drip on him? I won’t tell you which option I choose, but I will tell you it’s a nightly dilemma.

As David goes back to dreaming, I make my way into the bedroom, and just as I lay in bed it comes once more.



ACHOOO!


It will not quit until all members of my small family are awake and unrested.

Ps: I had intended not to write about my son or montherhood to not turn this log into one of those. I wanted it to be more than that as well as that. However, my life is little besides David and work and sleep right now so since it’s a major part of my life, I decided to write about it. This way, I ill hopefully get back in the habit of updating regularly and eventually start writing about more varied topics. If you don’t like reading about motherhood issues, visit me weekly and hopefully there will be at least one entry that’s not about David.

One of my workmates emailed me about her dreams this week. She told me that even though her friends seemed to have given up on saving the world as they got older, she hasn’t been able to. She still wants to make a difference and a consequential one. She wrote, “I know you are going to think this is crazy, young, and idealistic, but I still want to save the world…” I don’t think it’s crazy. It’s idealistic but definitely not young. If only young people can be idealistic, I think that makes the world a very sad place once we’re past our twenties.

Now that I have a child in this world, I believe I have even more reason to want it to be perfect. While my understanding of perfect and the boundaries of my possible effect in the world might change, my need to make it a better place hasn’t and hopefully will never go away. I still want to start a nonprofit. I still think that you can change the world and I still want to be only surrounded by those who believe in the power of change.

I never understood the cynicism that I saw in some of my friends. While I can understand that there can be experiences that lead one to question life and the way things work, I don’t understand the advantages of cyncism. What good is it? Does it make the person happier? Does it make the world more livable? Does it mean you’ve won somehow? I feel like it gives you nothing but negative energy that makes the rest of your life even more bleak and even more depressing.

If one chose to stick by their dreams and maybe alter them to be more realistic, more reachable, in smaller increments, wouldn’t that make their life more enjoyable? Wouldn’t it give them something to look forward to each day? Teach For America was a pretty depressing experience for me and I suffered a lot but I still think it’s a wonderful organization and I am glad it exists. Would I like it to be doing some things differently? Sure. But at least they are there, trying. That’s more than many of us.

I hope more people out there are like my work friend and still chasing a version of their dreams. Those are the people who will change the world and make it a better place for all of us.

Our little baby turns one month old today. He’s been in this world for four weeks. He has grown from 6 pounds 13 ounces to 9 pounds 1 ounce. His hair has turned lighter and grown a lot. His eyes are even bluer than they were when he joined us. Even though I know it’s not purposeful, his smiles are already heartbreaking.

Here’s a list of google-queries I’ve made in the last month:

Thrush
Post-partum depression
Over-active letdown
Acid Reflux
Australian-hold
Breastfeeding with a fever
Mastitis
Curdled vs Hindmilk
Breastfeeding and peanutbutter
Gripe water downsides
Newborn stuffy nose relief
Baby massage
Umbilical cord care
Washing poop stains

Most of them were the overactive imagination of a new mom. One month down, millions more to go.

We love you more than words can express, David. Happy one month birthday.

It has now been two weeks since David has joined our family. There are so many little things that he does which I want to document daily but between feeding him, working, changing him, and sleeping, I seem to have zero free time to even brush my teeth. But I do think it’s important to document these precious days that will go by so quickly. I am open to suggestions on the most efficient way to do that. I will try to do regular updates here soon again and I promise it won’t be all about the baby, I just need some consistent sleep first.

When we found out that I was expecting, my doctor calculated my due date to be February 8th. The pregnancy.com website calculated it to be February 5th. When we did the 17-week ultrasound, we were told February 2nd. So when the 2nd and the 5th came and went, I was pretty depressed. As much as I wasn’t experiencing the bloating that comes with the ninth month, I was ready for the baby to come out so I could see the creature I’d been carrying around for months.

On Monday, the 7th, we went for our doctor’s visit. My doctor was scheduled to leave town on the 12th and if the baby didn’t come by then, we were guaranteed to have a different doctor for the birth. One that we never met. So we decided to induce the next night and got an appointment for 7pm. As soon as we left the doctor’s office, I felt terrible. Obviously the baby wasn’t ready to come and forcing him/her out because I want to have my doctor present sounded so selfish suddenly.

Jake and I spent the next four hours talking about whether we should induce or not. We knew all might go well but we also knew that inducing meant a higher chance of c-section and more drugs for the baby and possibly a much more painful labor. We decided that there were going to be many decisions where we were going to have to put our kid before us and there was no reason not to start now. So we went to bed knowing we were going to call my doctor the next morning and cancel the induction.

At midnight, my water broke. I was sleeping and felt it all oer the bed, it was the weirdest feeling. I called the hospital cause I wasn’t sure it was my water. They said to come in and they would let me know. We got to the hospital at 1am and they said my water had indeed broken and I wasn’t going anywhere. I was only 2.5cm dilated and normally they don’t admit you in the hospital until you are 4cm except for when your water breaks. I asked that we wait as long as possible before they give me medication to induce and was told they could wait six hours. They sent me up to labor and delivery and hooked me up to the machines. The night nurse, Heather Bacon, was awesome and helped us relax. Around 3:30, I told Jake he should sleep just in case it’s a long night/day. At that point, my contractions were more regular but still painless. Within an hour, I went from no pain to acute pain. I couldn’t breathe or move. On the way to the bathroom, I’d have two contractions, and three more on the way back. Heather came in to check on me and see if I wanted medication and I said not yet.

Another hour later I was in so much pain that I finally woke Jake up. As I was talking to him, Heather came in again and I asked her to check how far along I was. She said I was 5cm and could get an epidural if I wanted. We discussed it for a while and finally at 6am, I got an epidural. Whoever says epidurals hurt must obviously have not experienced labor. I was in so much pain at that point that I felt literally no pain from the epidural and as soon as he put it in, my pain disappeared. It was like a miracle.

An hour after the epidural, I was already 9.5cm so they called my doctor and told me to start pushing. Two hours and fifty minutes later, our little boy was born. The pushing wasn’t a huge amount of fun but his head full of hair was very encouraging and helped me push.

All the horror stories I had heard about labor turned out not to be the case for me. The breastfeeding was a bit hard the second day since David didn’t want to swallow. But we’ve got it down now. I had very little to recover from so getting back to normal wasn’t a long way. I worked on Monday before David came and we checked out of the hospital on Thursday, Friday morning I was working again. People had told me it would be impossible to work with him at home and so far that hasn’t been true either. Thankfully, none of the things I feared came true.

All in all, labor was less painful than 9 months of pregnancy and David is such a peaceful, wonderful baby that we feel blessed and overjoyed every minute of every day.

Well I just entered my due week. I am sure you’re sick of reading about the baby and honestly, I want to write about other stuff, too. I am reading Blink by Malcolm Gladwell and it’s a fantastic book and it’s making me think a lot and generally those kind of books generate a lot of blog entires for me.

However, I am so big and contracting so much that I can’t seem to function much anymore. You try sleeping with a big, hard rock attached to your stomach and let me know how it goes. Part of me is scared of all the changes life will bring with this baby and that part knows that I should prolong labor as much as possible. While I might not be able to get sleep now, at least I don’t have a baby that completely depends on me. (Actually, I already do but it somehow doesn’t feel as real).

The other part of me can’t wait to finally see the little thing that’s been living in me for 9 months. I’d lie and say I am all calm about labor but I am scared shitless. Actually, I am scared shitless of the whole thing. I tend to enjoy predicatability. I don’t mean that I am afraid of unknown things cause I’ve ventured into the unknown many times in my life. I moved to the US for college all by myself. I lived in Japan for six months not knowing a word of the language and hating all the food. I left my cushy Wall Street job for a teaching job I believed in and then left that for a city I’d never seen in my life. I’m not afraid of conquering the unknown. In general.

This time, it’s different. This time it affects more than just me. Or Jake and me. I am bringing this little creature into the world because I wanted to and regardless of his or her wishes, she or he will hopefully live for a long long time in this world because of me. I will get to decide how s/he begins life. I will choose the first few friends. The first school. The clothes and experiences this baby will have until s/he is old enough to make decisions. That’s a huge load of responsibility.

In my mind, having a baby, and then a child, means that I am now fully subscribed into the land of the unknown. As opposed to venturing there every now and then, I will be taking permanent residence there. That might be exciting to a lot of people. It’s a bit scary to me. I couldn’t imagine doing it for a better reason but, it’s still quite overwhelming.

I am hoping that the day to day life will leave me with little enough time that I won’t ponder the weight of this too often. That, and the hormones finally leaving my body, should help, too.