It's so cute

Because this weekend was so beautiful, I got the kids over the park. Owen had his first wagon ride with Zoe - he giggled with glee as though this were the best idea ever - and actually got to explore the park a little under his own power. I cannot wait for spring. It is going to be fun. I shot a little video of the little gentleman walking about:

http://www.vimeo.com/7528281

Sorry about the quality - I only had my phone with me. (and right now I'm waiting for the video to convert - I'll embed when it's done)

Side effects may include …

Took a little trip to the ENT this morning … again. I'm sure I've mentioned before – we love our ENT. He is wonderful. Good thing, since we've been there a lot in the last 2 years. But we're not sure we quite enjoy the frequency with which we see him. This time it was Owen's turn. He's still battling the same ear infection he's had since the end of September, so we're headed down the tubes road with child #2. Hooray!

But, before we left, BJ asked the doctor if he should make another appointment for an ear issue he has been having (he saw him about 2 months ago). Being the wonderful doctor he is – and, I'm sure, realizing we're his best patients so he owes us – he went right ahead and took a look. We got out of there with a prescription for Owen, a date for Owen's surgery, and a prescription for BJ. A really fun prescription for BJ. Just take a look at the common side effects:

Yes, that says "feeling a whirling motion." And he has to take 6 pills on the first day. Woo hoo! What a ride! Actually … all those side effects together sound like a wild night at the bar … hmm …

Momma's Boy

Owen loves his momma. Yup - he loves me a lot. It is sweet, adorable, and I just want to snuggle his soft head all day. But, I have to go to work every morning. And I have class one night a week. Work, school, homework, kids, husband ... and I thought I had no time for myself before? Seriously - I acknowledge that I got myself into this predicament, but it is still a bit of a bummer when my craft pile is building, the house is a mess, and (horror of all horrors!) the DVR is full. Think of all that TV I am missing! Travesty, I know.

When I woke up Owen this morning, he was so happy to see me that he was physically agitated. There is no other word. He was shaking, bouncing, panting with glee. It warmed my heart. He spent the time at home this morning chattering and playing and giggling. Then I had to leave him at daycare. He has not cried at daycare drop-off since the first week. He cried today, and I knew it was because he missed me. He felt cheated because he hadn't seen me since the same time yesterday and thought he was finally going to get some mom-time. I don't blame him!

Truly, this is the best time to get this certificate. Zoe understands what I am doing and one night a week is no big to her (hey - it's usually fun time with dad!). And neither of the kids will have any clear recollection of this in a few years. But it is definitely hard to know that Owen is missing me now ... and I miss his little head, too.

5 Months

Dear Owen,

Hey there, little man – I think we’re actually having some fun! You are, amazingly, five months old this week and I think I like you now. That sounds harsh, I know. To anyone who has not gone through raising a newborn, it may as well be blasphemy. Even to some people who have because, well, they are baby-raising robots or something. But, your mother is not a fan of the early months, and neither you nor your sister has made great strides in changing my opinion of those first 20 weeks or so. In fact, it is almost as if you two saw it as your mission to insure that I never became a fan of the newborn stage. Job well done!

But, we’ve seemingly passed that hurdle and our time together is so much more enjoyable. In the last month, it is like you yawned, stretched and woke up to the world. Where once you really only enjoyed looking at and “talking” to people, you now realize there are things around you. Things that make noise, or light up, or taste good in your mouth. Make that and taste good in your mouth. You like to grab whatever you can reach, stare at it intently, and concentrate very hard on working it between your gums. While everything is deserving of at least a taste, you do have your favorites. The blue chime-y elephant is one you especially like. In fact, blue elephants seem to be a theme when it comes to favorite toys: there’s the blue elephant that shakes and rattles when you pull it (attached to your car seat), the soft blue stuffed elephant that snuggles with you in your crib (whose trunk is easily directed into your mouth by holding the ears), and the blue chime-y elephant on your “play gym.” Interesting . . . Owen, I feel like I need to tell you now that I may disown you if you become a big game hunter.



I think the delightful change in your attitude, your mood, is in large part due to how much more in control you feel. You can grab and move and chew your toys. You can sit up a little and look around. You can even roll over and squirm across the floor. Small distances. Very small distances. But, hey – you did it on your own! It cracks me up how proud you get of yourself. Sometimes, you will be laying on the floor playing with (inevitably) the blue elephant. It gets tossed (“Hey – how’d that happen?”), you track it with your head, then roll over towards it. Then you prop up your little head and look at me as if to say, “Did you just see what I did? I totally just did that!” You are so pleased.



You continue to grow. And eat. I suppose a boy as active as you are needs a lot of fuel. You are now eating three meals a day, just like the big kids. A bit sooner than the pediatrician “advised”, but we cheated anyway by starting the solids at – what? – 13 weeks. You are all about the fruits, mostly because I haven’t gotten around to making many veggies. And yogurt – you love yogurt. I know there are some people who will judge and condemn me because I gave you yogurt before you were six months old. I am a horrible mother. I feed my child a food. That he likes. Oh, and it is organic and healthy for him. You don’t fuss much during the day anymore, but, when you do, it is apparently because the trip the spoon makes from your mouth, to the bowl, and back to your mouth again is not fast enough.

But, truly, Owen, the best part about this month has been the sleeping. Up until about 2 weeks ago, napping was not exactly your strong suit. We’d gotten the bedtime routine down (the 3 Bs: bath, boob, bed), and you were sleeping through the night. Mostly. But you were still treating daytime sleep like the enemy. I wanted to get you napping, but knew Gram didn’t have the cajones to really stick it to you. I mean, you needed to nap! If you slept well during the day, you slept even better at night. So, over spring break, since you were home with me, I set about “nap-training” you. Hurrah! Success! Now you take 2 fairly predictable naps every day. And there is much rejoicing. It is so good for all of us.



The best part of my day is coming to fetch you and Zoë after work. The open-mouthed, gummy, whole-face smile you give me is an incredible reward for even the most trying days. It is funny how you will look and babble at Zoë in the backseat as we drive home. She remains your favorite person . . . sometimes, I think you jabber at her thinking she’s your translator. Like, “You look like someone who can speak my language. Can you tell these people what I’m saying?” You really get a kick out of “chasing” her – I will hold you in a standing position (something you love to begin with), and bob you along the floor after her. You grin and razz and bubble the whole way, until we get her. Then you grab at her face or her hair and lean in close.

So, yeah – I guess it’s been a pretty fun month! Right now you’ve got a cold, again. And despite your snuffliness, you are just as delightful and playful as ever. We won’t talk about last night. Ugh. We haven’t had a night like that in a looong while and I know it was just because you didn’t feel well. But my head is not happy about it today. Come morning, though, you were cheerful and smiling. My “little gentleman.”



What a difference a month makes.

Love,
Momma

4 Months

A month of Owen . . .

3 Months

Dear Owen,

We have been eagerly awaiting this day, little man – the day you would be three months old. It is probably a little silly and overly optimistic on our part, but we’ve been promised that the first 12-14 weeks are often the toughest and that once we cross that “fourth trimester” threshold we would have a new, cheerier baby. Your sister came through for us. And it’s starting to look like you will, too.

Over the past few weeks, you have snapped out of being a grumpy old man. Rather, you are a chatty, squealing happy boy (most of the time). The noises that come out of your throat very often still threaten my precious crystal wine glasses. Truly ear-splitting and almost at a level only dogs can hear. I don’t know how you do it, and we’re trying not to encourage it (it’s hard not to laugh), but so much more bearable because the emotion behind it is joyful or silly. And your attempts at laughter make me giggle – a hearty “HA!” pushed out from your belly with a giant grin.



Boy, do you love to talk. You’re still not much interested in toys – you certainly have the capability to grasp rattles and teething rings, but don’t make an effort to. What you are interested in are people. Faces and voices. You can sit and chatter with me (or Gram) upwards of 10 minutes straight. That’s a long time for a little baby. You are already proficient at mimicking the rhythm of language. It’s adorable, coupled with the faces you pull. Sometimes, whatever you’re saying, you are very serious about. Probably, “I really think it’s getting time to eat. It would be in your best interest to feed me now, mother. I’m not kidding.” But, mostly, you seem to just be making fun of us and our efforts to make you smile.



Recently, I’ve started plopping you in front of the bathroom mirror as we get ready for your nightly bath. You absolutely light up when you see the “other baby” looking back at you. You “laugh” and smile and babble. Until you notice your feet, of course (those are much more interesting and much more useful, in your opinion). But it’s your sister who really seems to have caught your attention of late. You love Zoë. The other night, we were sitting in her room before bedtime. She was galloping around the room, dancing to “Run Around Kid”, and your head was on a swivel. You were tracking her like a lion tracks a gazelle, so interested in what she was doing. Then she stops and turns your way and you just beam. She was giving you kisses the other night, and I just busted up at your reaction. By the second kiss, you started pushing out your lips as she leaned in, then smiling between every kiss.



For all your wonderful moments (of which we’re completely grateful), you still confound us with your insistence on not sleeping during the day. Or, rather, not sleeping by yourself. You’ll still happily fall asleep, and take hour-long naps, in our arms. But, try to put you down and “WAH!” – the screaming starts. We’ve resorted to using all sorts of contrived methods to get you to nap. Like, taking you for car rides. Or putting you in your car seat on top of a running dryer. Someday you may question our wisdom in this, perhaps when you’re denied a driver’s license because you can’t not fall asleep in a moving car. Sorry about that. But, you’re a nicer baby when you’ve slept.

The rapidity with which you are growing (and changing) is astounding. I’m sitting here looking at a picture of you taken just a month ago. You’ve already outgrown the little creeper you’re wearing in the photo and your hair is now poking out all over as it gets longer. You are about the size of an average six-month-old (crazy). We’re definitely proud of our growing boy – you eat so well, you’re growing so well – but your size does pose some problems. You are getting pretty good with head control, you push up really well on your tummy, and have even started rolling over. But, you’re still three months old. Most six-month-olds can sit on their own, and may be starting to crawl. In other words, they’ve got a lot more physical control, independence and can support more of their own weight. So, holding you, fitting you in your sling, your bouncy-chair, even carrying you in your car seat is a regular challenge. And, honestly, I think you agree because you seem awfully frustrated at times to be so limited in what you can do (I swear, the other night, you tried to push yourself into a crawling position – whoah there, Chief).



Winter is still holding on with a death grip, but we’ve had a few warmer days when I could get you outside. We took a walk in the stroller, Zoë pedaling along on her tricycle, and you thrust your arms up in the air feeling the breeze. Your better mood, your interest in everything makes me so anxious for spring and summer when we can get out and play. We are going to have a blast, I promise you.

Love Always,
Momma

Milestone Central

Well, I made it through a full week back to work. At one point, I had some massive fear that I may never function normally again. A totally irrational fear, of course, but I had some sleep deprivation to contend with, okay? The one night when I was up for the day at approximately 2:30 am . . . that was fun. Caffeine is totally my friend these days.

See, it's all been about getting Owen some sort of routine. I'm not going to say schedule, because it's certainly not like we're imposing this structure on his sleeping or eating. But, clearly, there are certain things that need to happen at certain times (like getting him to and from mom's house). And napping is something he needs, but doesn't seem to want, to do. Therein lies the challenge. My poor mother, listening to him scream and carry on when he's obviously tired. He just needs to learn 1) to sleep on his own and 2) to self-soothe.

Wednesday, when he finally took an hour and a half nap in his crib, we were jubilant. Then he slept through the night Thursday night. And not nursing-baby-sleep-through-the-night, where you're just overjoyed the kid went more than 3 hours between feedings. We're talking 8 pm until 5:45 am. I actually got to nurse him before I left for work and, apparently, he was back asleep by 7 am . . . and slept until 11. He was already in the habit of taking a long morning snooze this week, but he hadn't ever slept that long at night so this was a bit surprising. Then he slept through the night again last night. This time, after eating a about 45 minutes of play, I tried to put him down to nap in his crib. I mean, we're home after all. Scream central. BJ suggests, "Why don't you try putting him in his carseat? That's what he's used to, after all." I figured it would be a no-go, that he probably falls asleep in the carseat because he's riding in the car. Guess what - he quickly calmed down and fell asleep, and he's still asleep now.

So, Owen is finally starting to get some decent sleep (and not cry as much). Hallelujah! But that's not all that's developed in the last week. Oh no . . .

Zoe is actually using the potty. Regularly. Without adult prompting. It started last Friday - nearly her whole class actually used the bathroom after nap, a group notorious for stalling on the potty-training front. Her teacher was triumphant. Zoe was super-excited. Since then, she's used the toilet more than not and the motivators we've been shoving down her throat for the better part of a year? Yeah - she actually cares about them! Like her sticker chart, and wearing big-girl underwear, special treats and getting to watch movies . . . Looks like "Passive Potty-Training" works like a charm!

And now she's watching Goldfinger. Really. She wouldn't let me turn it off.

(yes, I'm the boss - but it's pretty harmless as far as "grown-up" movies go)

Owen-Cling, Day 3

It is now Wednesday. Since Monday, Owen has wanted nothing but for me to hold him, to be in physical proximity to me, during daylight hours. This means he will not nap unless I am holding him. He will not be pleasant unless I am holding him or touching him. If I deign to set him down to go to the bathroom, or put him in his crib because he is fast asleep, I will soon be greeted by screams and shrieks befitting someone whose arms are being dismembered by a large Wookkie. I'd love to let him cry it out, but he seems to have a stamina beyond the tolerance of my nerves. I have even attempted just going about my normal business with him attached to me. Only, he's so large now that he doesn't fit in his sling in a safe position. He's screaming right now but, quite frankly, we have to leave the house today which means I have to wear normal clothes (and am waiting for the iron to heat up).

Oh, this is fun. Did I mention I love my children?

Calgon . . . take me away!

Where's Calgon (and a nanny) when you need it? Ugh. Owen has not taken a legitimate nap all day, he screams bloody murder whenever I try to set him down, and, now, at 7:53 I'm home with both kids alone. Somehow, I managed to get dinner on the table, and Zoe in bed, but Owen has been screaming since about 6:30. If my neighbors could hear anything over the artic winds, they'd think I was pulling his fingernails out one by one. I needed to take a breath.

Farbeit for me to wish away my child's babyhood, but . . . seriously? Can this be done now?

* * * *

Thanks to all my loyal fans! :-) It's nice to hear from everyone and renews my spirit to keep plugging away at this little life journal. If you ever have the opportunity to do so yourselves (which, I know, some of you do), it's kind of fun to log the day-to-day then look back a couple of years later and marvel at who you were.

Boob Brief

I’ve made no secret about my love-hate relationship with breastfeeding. For me, from the beginning it was not some warm, glowing moment of love and bonding between me and my baby. After my struggles with Zoë, I decided that, if it started out that painful and difficult with our second, I wasn’t going to stick with it. So not worth it, and heaven knows formula-fed babies turn out just fine. I would have just been sad to not have the glorious cleavage and worry-free weight loss. So selfish, I know.

I’m not alone in this, but I firmly believe that the “breastfeeding isn’t *all* that great” camp needs to be a little more vocal. What I mean is: those of us who don’t have a beautiful, pain-free time of nursing need to talk about it more. So, what’s it been like the second time around?

As I was gloating about Owen’s weight gain, my friend, Annette, says, “So I guess the breastfeeding is going better this time!” Yeah. Totally.

In the hospital, when I first tried nursing Owen, I actually – unbelievably to me – felt like I kind of missed breastfeeding. Who wouldda thunk? Because he was super-sleepy the first 24 hours, as newly-borns tend to be, I did not have that many opportunities to nurse him at first. But, I was starting to feel sore. I’d minded my own advice and had my Lansinoh lanolin on hand. I’d even started using it before he was born. But, it was hurting a bit and I wasn’t surprised. Once we found out that he was tongue-tied, and we had a reason for my discomfort beyond just breastfeeding sucking, I actually felt hopeful about how it was going to go.

After I healed up, following Owen’s tongue-tied chomping, the adjustment to nursing was so much quicker than with Zoë. Owen is a different eater than she was, for one. That helps. When he’s hungry, he eats. He doesn’t lounge around, sleep-eating for hours on end. He gets to work, and then leaves me alone when he’s full. But, I think there’s also something to be said for this being the second time. My body knows what to do, I know what to expect, and I know what not to tolerate (like I know my skin can’t handle comfort sucking).

Now, don’t get me wrong. I still have all those, “lucky me – I feel everything!” issues. Like latch-on discomfort, let-down pain, aches when the milk comes back in . . . but, because I know that’s normal for me, I’m not anxious. Which means I’m not tense. Which means it’s not as uncomfortable as it was with Zoë. I’m also not anxious because I know Owen is getting enough. More than enough – I’ve said it before, 5 pounds in 6 weeks??? – to the point that we have a surplus of breastmilk in the freezer.

I do also still have moments when I’m just worn out, when I don’t think I can nurse him one more time. But rather than being due to dreading the pain, it is simply because I am worn out, like when he’s having a growth spurt. Fortunately, he takes a bottle just as well as the breast. That was another issue we didn’t think twice about – introducing Owen to the bottle right away, and he took to it marvelously.

At this point, breastfeeding is going very well. Better than I could have hoped. Unfortunately, I go back to work in 3 weeks. When I went back to work after having Zoë, I nursed and pumped as long as I could. But, Zoë lost interest in nursing within 2 months, and my supply dwindled as well. The stresses of working, pumping, finding time for it all took its toll. I would like to breastfeed Owen at least as long as I did Zoë, but I worry that my early return to work is going to interfere with that plan. I’m telling myself that if I can get through the four months I’ll be back to work before summer break, we’re golden. But, the reality is that I’ll probably have to supplement him.

Fiddle-dee-dee. I’ll just think about that tomorrow.

* * * *

It’s Delurking Day!! I know that weekly I have about 2 readers, but you two – leave a comment! I’d love to hear from you, my loyal readers.

Shocking news

I miss work.

Last night, I was at a dance troupe business meeting working with the ladies on, well, dance troupe business. After a particularly brilliant contribution (riiight), one of my girls asks, “You miss work, Kate?” You know what? I do.

I guess this speaks to the fact that I really do like my job. I like working with the kids, I like the relationships I’ve developed there. But, I’ve only been home for six and a half weeks. Before delivering Owen, I was so worried about my “short” maternity leave. I was home with Zoë almost 5 months, and it was hard to go back. I thought being home only 9 weeks would be that much harder. It turns out, I’m not so worried about it anymore.

I think, with Zoë, I spent nearly 3 months just trying to survive – getting through the days of endless crying, the constant pain of nursing, and just learning to parent. By the time I went back to work, we’d finally hit a groove and I was starting to enjoy being a mom. I felt like, “Wait a sec! This is just getting good!”

With Owen, despite nearly 3 weeks of being sick, I’m doing more than just surviving. He’s so much more pleasant, so much more manageable that I am enjoying (mostly) my time, now. Which also means, the days are starting to become a little monotonous. I mean, he is only 6.5 weeks old – it’s not like we’re playing patty-cake and taking field trips. I’m ready for a little more variety in my day, a little more social interaction, and a few more reasons to dress nice and put on my makeup and jewelry.

I love my kids. I love being their mom. While I’m not a big fan of mothering newborns – that’s just not my forte – could they be born six months old? – I do enjoy my time off. But, it turns out, I do miss work. Huh.

This 'n' That

I'm a weirdo. Even when he's screaming his head off at me, all up in my face, I love the smell of Owen's hot, milky breath.
* * * *
When she went out to call a patient, someone actually shouted at the tech in my pediatrician's office, "But I was here first!" Really? Are we at the deli counter? And what would make someone think that was an okay response?
* * * *
Having a newborn in the winter sucks. I'm not a big fan of winter anyway, but man am I cooped up.
* * * *
Zoe's is the best big sister ever. Now, if we could just get her to stop calling Owen her baby sister. (Seriously - and she used to have it right!)
* * * *
Owen weighs 13 pounds. That's 5 pounds in 6 weeks. Old Man Porkchop. Emphasis on the Porkchop.

Who?

Old Man Porkchop, that's who. "Sleeping Pill" is no longer befitting Owen, so we've taken to calling him Old Man Porkchop. The Porkchop part is obvious - he's huge. Because Owen's been sick, I've had the benefit of visitng the doctor every week and getting him weighed. When we brought him home from the hospital, he was 7 lb., 9 oz. As of Monday, Owen weighed 11 lb., 6 oz. Nearly 4 pounds in 5 weeks! And, dude - it is all in his mondo head.

But the Old Man? This kiddo is no cooing baby. He's a grumbly, crotchety old man. He grimaces, he groans, he grunts. He's so serious, with his furrowed brow. He's just a little old man. But, oh - do we love our Old Man Porkchop.

Four Weeks

Dear Owen,

Happy 1 Month Birthday!! Once again, I have to say it: where does the time go? Your dad and I were talking about the last time we had Chinese Kitchen yesterday and he felt like it was a month ago. I said, "No. We've had Owen for a month. It's been at least 2." Whoah.



The last couple of weeks have been absolutely insane for our family, but you have hung in there like a real trooper. First 1,000-mile road trip? Check. First memorial service? Check. First family reunion? Check. First illness? Check. Your dad and I have learned some valuable parenting lessons in the past 2 weeks, but we are so grateful for your generally laid-back attitude. A fussier baby, and I may be writing this post from a comfortable room at Linden Oaks rather than my computer desk.

Mostly, we learned that a major road trip with a 2.5-week-old is not a great idea. It was very important to me that we get to Branson for your GrandDaddy Bob's memorial service. I figured we would have a harder time with Zoe than you - at what other point is a baby so portable? But, we didn't count on you refusing to sleep in the Pack & Play. Or the futility of trying to socialize when you want to eat every few hours. (Granted - I have no problem with nursing in public. But, I know my father and brothers aren't too comfortable with it, so we did try to keep it private. I'm so accommodating!) It was a rough 3 days. But, despite all the trials, you held up remarkably well. Let's just wait until you're a bit older to try that again.

Getting sick is something you have apparently mastered, as well. It seems that when you get sick, you go all the way. What Daddy and I are left wondering is how our kids got so tough! Barely a fuss from you, no apparent indications about what might be wrong . . . just a lot of sleeping. You seem to already be on the mend - you're back to eating every 3 hours, you're even sleeping in your crib now. Such a strong little man!

Of course, you're hardly little. At the doctor's office yesterday, you weighed in at 10 pounds, 15 ounces. Nearly 11 pounds! At one month old! I won't dispute that you like to eat, and there is still nothing more important to you. We haven't yet gotten a lot of awake time from you, but it is now obvious why: you're too focused on growing. But the times you are awake, you are such a doll. Just content to sit and look around. I was even able to wrap some presents today while you laid peacefully on a blanket on the floor next to me. You only started to fuss after nearly 20 minutes, and then, once I changed your vantage point, you were content again. Guess you just got bored with that side of the room.

Daddy and I both hope you're feeling well enough to get into the Christmas spirit tomorrow. You won't remember a thing about this Christmas, but it is your first and your family is so anxious to share it with you. Merry Christmas, Little Man!



Love,
Momma

Sick.

It has been a rather busy week or so . . . between the holidays, a newborn, a toddler, and a funeral, the Lippoldts have been running around a tad bit crazy. And I've gotten behind - big surprise. Ah well, moving forward.

Owen is sick. My 4-week-old baby is super-duper sick. I feel terrible. He started getting a little cranky late last week. But, that's not unusual for infants his age, so we didn't put much thought into it. Then he shows up with the sniffles on Saturday. Kid appears to have a cold! Again, no big shocker. It is December, flu & cold season, a big sister in daycare . . . he's still doing okay. Sunday, I have the impression that something is not right. He's coughing now and his chest occasionally rattles when he breathes. But, no fever, his breathing isn't labored, he's still eating, sleeping, pooping . . . I don't like how sick he seems, but by the time I decide I want him to see the doctor the convenient care/urgent care places are closed. And there is no way I'm sitting in the ER for hours on end. I decided to stay up with him that night and get into his pediatrician in the morning.

A double ear infection with a touch or either pneumonia or bronchitis. Seriously. Doc couldn't believe he a) didn't have a fever and b) was still breathing fine. I felt terrible. It was nice of the doctor to reassure me saying it was a good thing I went with my gut, because had I waited for him to have a fever it wouldn't have been good. So, Owen's got his first antibiotic. Hooray!

Of course, presuming that Zoe is the reason Owen is sick, BJ got her in to the doctor this afternoon, as well. I guess our doc said to him, "What are you two doing here?" Well, score 2 for parents, because she's got another ear infection. So, both our kids are on Omnicef (and we get to experience why Target color codes the bottles). Zoe also now has an appointment with the allergist to find out why she has the chronic runny nose and cough. Part of me hopes its dust. Maybe then I can convince BJ to hire a cleaning service . . .

"What time is it?"

While down in Branson for the weekend, I was feeding Owen on the sofa while chatting with my aunt and cousins about babies, sleeping, etc. Aunt Letti and I were telling the girls that, no - you don't feel relief the first time your baby sleeps through the night. You feel panic. As in, "Oh crap - what time is it? Why didn't he get up? Is my baby dead???!!!" So, of course, last night I got to experience that panic moment for the first time with Owen. Owen didn't quite sleep through the night, but almost. I put him in his crib at 10:00 (after dozing off myself while lulling him to sleep). Next thing I know, it's three in the morning - and, of course, the last time I "emptied" was 7:15. I let BJ know I was getting out of bed to tend to myself and he says, "Could you just check on him and make sure he's OK?" Owen didn't finally wake up until nearly 4.

Granted - this was a welcome change. The 2 nights down at the lake, Owen did not want to sleep at all. I think we were all relieved to be in our own beds.

2 Weeks

Dear Owen,



Two weeks have absolutely flown by. If I thought the time went quickly with your big sister, I would have been wrong. That wasn't fast. This is fast. I've found myself counting backwards to really remember how long it's been since you joined our family.

The past two weeks have been, honestly, fairly enjoyable. You have surprised us with how mellow, regular and sleepy you are. I've read the parenting websites, I've read the books, and I've come to learn that this is how newborns are supposed to behave in the first couple of weeks. Your dad and I just didn't realize that Lippoldt babies behaved like average babies.

While we are still waiting to get to know you - because you're much more interested in growing at the moment - your big sister Zoe just adores you. When she gets home from school, the first thing she asks is "Where is Owen?" When you cry, which is rare, she asks what is wrong with a note of concern in her voice. She loves to give you kisses and strokes on the head. I will have to apologize now, though, for the torture you may receive if you keep your lovely hair. Zoe is just in this hair styling phase, and she's already brushing your hair each time we do a diaper change. Poor little man.

You are so calm and laid back right now, but it's hard to be otherwise when all you do is eat and sleep. Grow, baby, grow! You've packed on nearly 2 pounds in the past two weeks (after losing about half a pound the first two days). No wonder, with the crazy amounts you are eating. It is a miracle my body can keep up!

Daddy and I have truly enjoyed snuggling with you over the past 14 days and, while we hope you continue to be a major snuggle-bunny, we really look forward to getting to know you a bit better. At the least, we'd like to see if your eyes are still blue!

Love,
Momma

I wanted a "natural" childbirth?

From the beginning of this pregnancy, my OB had suggested we may need to consider an early induction. Zoe's delivery was short, sure, but her shoulder popped. No injury, but in the delivery notes, they did mention an issue of fit, blah, blah, blah. So, because she wasn't exactly big (7 lb. 3 oz.), my doctor wisely felt we should monitor this kiddo's size and induce early as s/he approached Zoe's size. I wasn't really thrilled with the idea of an induction - I mean, I had such fun in the last one! - but figured we'd wait and see.



At my 35 week appointment, the doctor estimated baby was about 7 pounds, 19 inches long. Already. At this point, as anyone who knows me can tell you, I was so anxious to be done with this pregnancy that I brought up the induction option. Doctor says, "Oh sure, we can do that." Two weeks later, I'm set up with a date and time at labor & delivery, with the plan to get me home for Thanksgiving.



We arrived at the hospital with some definite requirements for this induction - slow Pitocin drip, no internal monitor, let me move around with contractions. As in, I'll wait and let you know about an epidural. I really wanted to give it a go again.



About 3 hours into my labor, I am starting to feel uncomfortable. My contractions are about 3-4 minutes apart, I was still pretty relaxed, but I liked the idea of staying relaxed. So, I asked for an epidural. The wonderful anesthesiologist came (eventually - good thing I asked when I did, because they were BUSY) and shot me up. I quickly feel my left leg going tingly, the pain subsiding . . . but don't think much about my right leg still feeling normal. Until the contractions pick up. And I could feel this fist-sized spot right above my right leg. Then the spot gets bigger. And I can feel my whole lower front. BJ pushes the call button; I let loose with a groan of pain at the exact moment the nurse says, "Do you need help?" She immediately answers her own question, "Yes, you do!"

The anesthesiologist did return - he shot me up with some narcotics, which helped me relax a little, but I could still feel. It all went pretty quickly after that. Unlike with Zoe, I could feel. So, I knew I needed to push. The nurse retrieved my doctor right away, knowing how quickly Zoe came. Approximately 6 contractions later, we had our little boy!

Here's the thing - I'd always had this desire to go "natural". I got so locked up with Zoe, that I needed the epidural to deliver her. But, it took so well that I didn't really experience that delivery. At all. This time, I decided "numb is nice!" and it didn't quite work out that way. Nevertheless, because I could feel the pressure, pain, burning . . . I experienced Owen's birth. I was aware, I was in the moment, I was there. I felt so much more connected to what was going on, it was kind of amazing. I actually felt some loss because I realized how doped up I was with Zoe.

One thing's for sure - I'm glad the epidural mostly worked!

Cat got your tongue?

Owen is tongue-tied. Really! We had our first pediatrician visit Wednesday (since we got discharged early), and as he's examining Owen he asks me, "Does he ever stick out his tongue?" Hmm . . . "Kind of," I said. He had me take a peek, and sure enough, Owen's tongue was connected to the floor of his mouth all the way to the tip. We weren't exactly surprised, though - BJ was tongue-tied. Thing his, he didn't get his fixed until he was 5, at which point he needed speech therapy!

A quick visit to the ENT today (we love this guy - I swear, we're going to end up putting his kids through college), a 10 second snip and all is well. No more tongue-tie and, hopefully, a little less chomping on poor mommy's tender vittles.

Introducing Owen

It's a boy! Owen was born on Monday, November 24 at 3:46 pm after a fairly uneventful induction (more on that later). He's a wonderful little man and BJ's glee at having a son and heir is totally apparent. "Now, if you want to stop after 2, I'm okay with that!" Big sister Zoe is very tender and caring - she's doing just great, no lie.

Isn't our little Butterball just precious?