Baby Baggage

I've been packing and laundering and packing and sorting and packing Matilda's clothes all week in preparation for our Easter trip to Nashville! We leave tomorrow bright and early at around 4am. So, really not so much "bright" as it is "early" seeing as the sun isn't up yet (is God even up at that hour? I'll let you know.)

It has been quite the chore figuring out what to bring and what not to bring for Miss Matilda. This baby, as you can imagine, is quite stylish and has the wardrobe of a seasoned clotheshorse (atta gal) but what to choose for the trip is a daunting task. She is at a tricky in-between-sizes phase, for one, where she is 5 months old but they only seem to make 3 month or 6 month clothing. Basically this requires me to squeeze her into half her outfits like a little polish sausage, or leave things roomy while rolling up the cuffs. I've found a few "3-6"month items (a rather elusive category in baby fashion) and those mostly seem to fit her well.

The weather can be a challenge as well. Luckily, it is supposed to be beautiful while we are there - even hitting highs of 80 degrees - nearly unheard of for this time of year in Nashville. Most of her "fitting" clothes are still long-sleeved, so we might be leaving with sleeved items that turn into cut-off sleeveless wonders by the time we return. (I kid...I think.) She has plenty of onesies + pant combos, so we'll just bring along a sweater and hopefully have our bases covered. Sounds simple enough, doesn't it?

But, the hardest thing about packing for a baby is that the frequency of outfit changes is almost entirely unpredictable. Some days (let's call them "miracle days") we get through an entire 24 hours in one outfit (well, 2 outfits if you count jammies, but that change is on purpose). Other days...well, it is just a question as to which end of my child ruined another outfit. I got home yesterday to find her in a new outfit than what I had left her in and just nodded and asked Katie (my sister-in-law/nanny/saint/the super-aunt) "Spit-up or doody?" Yup, another outfit bit the dust.

So, when you are trying to plan for multiple occasions, with a series of days away from the norm...how many outfits do you plan for her to average? I think the most she's ever gone through is 4 or maybe 5 outfits in one day. So...packing for baby basically requires the skill in "overpacking". I'm certain that I have entirely overpacked this child.

There's the short sleeve, the long sleeve, the sweater, the navy outfit for photo-session-with-cousins #1, there's Easter dress #1, Gram is bringing Easter dress #2, there's the outfit so-n-so gave her and the dress from that other person, there's fancy socks, non-fancy socks, tights and the shoes-that-will-never-stay-on-her-chubby-feet-but-will-look-pretty-for-a-photo...not to mention extra diapers, wipes (we'll buy more when we're there) blankey #1 and snuggly glow worm and krinkly-elephant for plane distractions. Hmmm...boy. I hope we still have room to actually bring Matilda along.

Well, wish me luck! It's up, up, and away for us tomorrow! I will return next week with a full report, as I will most likely not have time to blog while I'm away. Keep up with us on my facebook and I look forward to sharing in future posts!

Happy Easter!

Labor of Love

We recently had our "Bradley Class Reunion". "Bradley" is the birthing method Josh and I chose to follow. It is a 12 week program that walks you through more-than-you-ever-wanted-to-know-about-birth and preparing for baby. It was immensely helpful and I would highly recommend it to any expectant mothers out there looking to get ridiculously overly-educated about what the heck is going on with their body and their babies. We particularly chose it for its involvement of the father. In fact, the book that supplements the class is called "Husband Coached Childbirth"...and they aren't kidding. Just as Josh how exhausting it is to support someone through labor - I can attest to his superb skills, along with the relaxation techniques I learned, that kept me going through my nearly 15 hour unmedicated period of labor, with contractions coming every 2-4 minutes straight. (Roar, I am woman).

Ironically, though we spent hours and hours preparing for a natural labor, the only two students who could make the reunion ended up with c-sections! The class was small - only 3 couples - and 2 of us ended up in the OR, much to our chagrin. The other couple was able to have a homebirth with a midwife, so kudos to them and many congrats on the use of their Bradley-learned-skills put into practice! I was sad they weren't able to make the reunion, and our instructor was sick and unable to come as well...so, us c-sec gals got to finally catch up and compare notes...as well as meet each other's precious little bundles (now, nearly 5 months old!) It was awesome to see each other, now as parents, and literally look at the fruit of our labors laughing and playing with each other.

Now, here's what I have to say about childbirth. No, no, I'm not gonna get all graphic on you - no need for panic. What I mean is, in my journey to find the best method of preparation for bearing a child, I can pretty much sum up in this: educate yourself on everything, expect the unexpected, and enjoy the experience. I think these are all valid things you can actually choose to do...the rest is up to God, your baby, your body, and your doctors which are entirely unpredictable until you are in the midst of it.

It seems that there has never been a more open time for options in the world of birthing than there is today. There are women that schedule their c-sections months in advance to accomodate their (or their doctor's) schedules...and there are women having natural water births in the middle of their living rooms. There used to be no choices at all - the doctor would just tell you what to do. Then, "to get the epidural or not to get the epidural" was the question. Now, women are taking the decision-making into their own hands, dictating a "birthplan" to their doctors, midwives, doulas, and husbands as the authority over their own birth experience.

A lot of good has come from this movement. I'm a big supporter in educating yourself and becoming your own health advocate. I think there is a lot of wisdom in listening to your body and learning about what it is trying to tell you. I also think, however, that I'm no expert when it comes to medical emergencies. I know that birth is not a typical "emergency" and there is often no cause for alarm or stress...but, I also know that I would have had more stress if I stayed in an environment that was not equipped for the unknown. This is certainly a decision each woman has to make for herself (with great input from a supportive husband, I might add)! Simply put - there is no "one right way" to have a baby. That's just the truth.

I am all for the natural birth experience. I wanted it, I prepared for it, and ultimately I had it for several hours. I'm also thankful for the time we spent educating ourselves on the various scenarios that might arise during labor. It saddens me that several mothers I've talked to look back on their birth experience with regret or disappointment instead of the wonder and joy they hoped for. I've had several different reactions to my having a c-section, ranging from "they are the best way to go" to "it's too bad you gave in" to looks of horror or pity. I haven't been surprised. The road to childbirth is paved with all kinds of criticism. It truly can bring out the best and the worst in some women. I tried to remain level headed throughout my pregnancy - always hoping and preparing for the best scenario while educating myself about the various crossroads of decisions I might (and did) have to face.

After 15 hours of unmedicated labor, 4 more hours of labor on pitocin with an epidural, and then a c-section after failure to progress...I couldn't be happier with my 3-versions-of-labor-in-one experience. Here's the main reason why: I decided long before my water broke that it was going to be a beautiful day.

Did every little step along the way go perfectly as I would have liked? Of course not. And I wouldn't have had it any other way. I embraced the drama from the beginning - from the excitement of the water breaking just like it does in the movies (turns out sometimes it DOES happen that way!) to the tearful and prayerful decision to go forth with the c-section...it all led to the perfect ending: meeting my daughter.

If I had one piece of unsolicited advice to pass along to future mothers, it's to remember this: As long as you go home with a healthy baby that's yours...your birth was a success!

I kept that mindset from the begining and handed the rest of the stress (which I had no control over anyway) to God. He knew exactly how Matilda was supposed to arrive, and He was with us every single step of the way as we approached 5:03pm on that Sunday evening we finally met her. Now, who could ask for a better day than that?

Baby on Board

I recently read this article about flying on an airplane with babies. I found it rather timely since we are approaching this milestone for Matilda soon - we're flying to Nashville for Easter!

Now, I know that most people in daily life smile when they see a baby. But, when you get on a plane, you are essentially taking residence on another planet for the time being. A planet in which babies are the equivalent to hostile alien lifeforms. People who would usually "ooh" and "ahh" and ask you "how old?" or "what's her name?" now glare at you with menacing looks of fear and disgust. They will give you a sympathetic nod at best, as if you recently fell victim to a terminal disease of noise and inconvenience. It's true - no matter how cute your bundle of joy may be - she is an unwanted passenger on the flight to anywhere.

What's a parent to do?

It's certainly not a fair fight. We've all been on a flight that has had a crying baby. I've even been on a flight with a throwing-up baby (worse). In the rather anti-baby article, they offer a series of advice that is supposed to help:

Tips for parents with babies

• If a baby reacts to the changing cabin pressure, give it something to suck on -- a bottle or a pacifier, for example -- when the plane is taking off or making its initial descent, Shu said.

• If you can afford it, always buy a seat for your infant, instead of holding the baby on your lap, Shu advised. It's safer, and you'll have more room to maneuver, she said.

• Beware of trying to sedate a baby with over-the-counter children's medications. "People will try things to make babies sleep, like Benadryl or decongestants to help with the ears. In general, those medicines aren't recommended for kids under 2 years old," Shu said.

• Be prepared. Bring everything you need to keep a baby content, including toys and changes of clothing, and be ready to rock your child or walk around the plane with them if they cry, Bartell said.

• Always make an effort to quiet a crying baby. "If other people see you trying, even if you're not succeeding, they will feel at least you're ... doing your best to stop it. And they'll have some sympathy for you," Bartell said.

I appreciate the tips - many of which have been handed down to me from other parents and our pediatrician. The article puts much emphasis on the importance of good parenting and the resposibility of the parent to make sure their child's behavior "does not adversely affect" the people around them.

Okay. I mean, I get it. I've been "those people" up until now and no - it isn't fun to sit next to a screaming child or a kid kicking your seat. And, yes, often times the parents of the children could be a bit more attentive. However - for the parents out there who are simply doing their absolute best and their kids are not misbehaving but simply being kids...where's the compassion??? Instead of making it alright to let people turn their noses up at the parents - could we not encourage a call to action? A call to kindness and concern?

In other words - give me a break!

I remember when that poor little baby threw up on that flight I was on...no one was more embarrassed than that mother. My heart truly broke for her, even if I was trying to retain my gag reflex at the same time. Some things are simply unpredictable.

I will do all I can to keep Matilda calm and happy - but sometimes that includes letting her "talk" (happy squawking) and "razz" her little lips (making lovely, spitty/tooty noises). Not to mention the occasional whafting of unpleasant odors my darling one can express. I'm not saying it goes without consideration for others - but I'm not making any exceptional apologies for bringing my baby with me on a flight.

So, look out Southwest Fliers from LAX to Nashville...there will be a baby on board. You can't say I didn't warn you.

Date Night!

Ok, so this blog is overdue, but instead of writing during my free time over the weekend, I spent it with this super-fresh guy I know...my husband.

Yes, this helpful stranger I've been living with over the last four and a half months is more than just a baby daddy, more than just the trash man, the dishwasher, the laundry carrier, and the Tivo setter ("um, does this girl do ANYTHING herself?")...he's also the super suave man I happen to be in love with. Oh yeah, remember that? What's it called, romance?

Josh and I had our first, official, compensated-a-trustworthy-couple-for-keeping-our-baby-alive "date night" this last weekend. I was totally looking forward to it, storing up anecdotes all month to pour onto my husband that had nothing to do with spit-up or teething, and hyping myself up for using human adult words like "Merlot" or "breath mint".

I even decided to get all dolled up just for the occasion. I dusted off the red suede pumps Josh had given me on our first Christmas together and squeezed my wide, post-pregnancy clown feet into them. (I used to think "sexy" when I wore these before...now all I think is "how many steps is it from the car to the restaurant?") Nevertheless, it was worth it. I looked good.

I finished curling my hair as I watched Matilda in her bouncy seat. She looked up at me, smiling and it reminded me long ago of watching my own mother prep herself for a night out with my dad. She would fluff her newly permed, blonde hair as she ironed her denim jumper (hey, this was hot in the eighties!) and I thought she looked beautiful. More importantly, I remember her feeling happy with herself and my dad looking at her adoringly. While I may have cringed at their doting at the time (and they can still turn my stomach, they are just that in love to this day) I appreciate the principle it instilled in me...mom and dad come first.

Date night is more than just a relief from the stress of parenthood. It's more than just an excuse to spend money on a ridiculously priced bowl of cheese (though Twisted Vine's baked brie is heaven!) It's valued time spent reconnecting with the one person God has blessed you with to help keep you in tune with who you are meant to be...an intentional time to restore your sense of need and longing for your spouse (and appreciation!) and a chance to unwind and laugh yourself silly with your true best friend.

Yes, Josh and I had a fabulous time. Great food and stellar conversation makes a few hours go by in a beautiful blink. Granted, it was not easy to leave my screaming child in the arms of another (I'm still not sure who I felt worse for when I left - Matilda or Sue & Tom - who were so gracious but will probably bring ear plugs if they return). But, date night is a deserved necessity for every couple...especially parents.

Sure, dating has always been fun. It was fun to date Josh as my boyfriend, more fun as my husband, and now as the father of my baby it is a special time wholly unique to us as a couple. It certainly helps keep priorities in perspective, knowing that we are not only investing in our marriage, but in our family - returning to Matilda as a healthy couple (not to mention sane members of society) ready for any challenges she might offer us, cute or otherwise.

Who knew those little red suede pumps would be the perfect prescription for mom-stress? I'm sure that date night was the first of many more to come...maybe even enough to nauseate my own daughter.

One can only hope.