Weeks 8 and 9

This past Monday Noah had his first set of shots.  I hadn't taken him to the doc since he was 4 days old so I was excited to find out his stats.

Noah nervously anticipates his first set of shots.

At 8 weeks Noah is 14 lbs (95th percentile), 23.5 inches long (75th percentile) and xx inches in head circumference (25th percentile).  Much like his brother at that age.  Big body and pea-sized head!

Check out my meaty thighs!

I told the doc that my most pressing issue was that Noah could not nap on his own AT ALL.  She encouraged me to do some nap-training (which made me love her so much) instead of waiting until he's 3 months old like all the books say.

Noah insisted on a modesty cover for his bath pic.

So I've been half-heartedly letting Noah cry 15-20 minutes during his naps but the little guy is not able to soothe himself to sleep.  Or, he falls asleep immediately but cries again after just 3 minutes or so, off and on, off and on until he finally loses patience and wails inconsolably.

I kind of want to give up on the nap-training, but then again, the alternative is hefting around his 14 lb body for 8 hours a day, which is pretty physically painful.  Although, that's not the worst part.  The worst part is it doesn't allow me to give much attention to Judah.

Poor Judah.  He's really going through some tough times adjusting to the new baby.  He's been a pretty good sport at the beginning but as time drags on and the baby gets needier and needier, Judah's patience has worn pretty thin.  He now has really tearful meltdowns and tantrums several times a day, and in general, just seems pretty miserable.

A rare smile from poor Judah.

Yesterday, for the first time ever in his entire life, he refused to take a bath.  He wailed, screamed, cried when I tried to coax him into the tub and I was completely perplexed and frustrated.  What the heck?!?!  He has always loved bath time!

Having a 2nd baby is no joke.  The spouse and I are exhausted and frequently exclaim "WHY DID NO ONE WARN US ABOUT THIS?!"  But the truth is, people did warn us.  We did expect it to be hard (at least for the first few months).

But head-knowledge and actual experiential-knowledge are two very different things!

The Baby Blues

I've been feeling blue lately but I can't quite put my finger on why.

Sleep deprivation is the obvious culprit.  I haven't slept more than 2 hours at a time since Noah was born and  probably won't until he's sleep-trained.  Sadly, however, sleep-training is not going as well as I hoped.  His longest sleep stretch is a mere 3 hours and he doesn't seem to be very good at self-soothing.

Don't act cute with me.  You know what a pain in the butt you are!

But it could also be because I'm sick.

And/or that I haven't touched dairy, chocolate, or caffeine in 8 weeks.

And/or I've been isolated at home because I'm deathly afraid of taking the baby out and having him catch a cold.

And/or the fact that the baby is not really on a schedule so I can't plan my day and I have almost no control over any aspect of my life.  For a type-A person to not have control...well, let's just say nothing could be worse.  Add to the mix that I'm generally a pessimist and debbie downer and it's no wonder the blues have ensued.

And/or the fact that I can't put Noah down for naps.  The physical exhaustion of holding a 12 lb child for 8-10 hours a day is definitely exacting a toll on my achy neck and shoulders.

And/or that I feel guilty about not giving Judah much attention.  Ironically I wanted to have another baby to force Judah to be less attention-needy.  To be able to play on his own and be more independent.  But instead it's just made him weepy and miserable every day.  He constantly tells me "I missed you all day at Ms. Lori's house (his daycare)."  And he falls apart every time he sees me holding Noah (which is practically all the time since I can't put Noah down for a nap).  And more than ever he constantly wants me to play with him and does not play on his own.  Ugh.

My poor neglected big boy.

This last weekend I checked in on him during nursery hour and he looked downright depressed.  I've never seen him like that before.  He's always a happy, hyper, active guy.  But even though his favorite people were joking with him and trying to cheer him up, he just sat glumly on a chair, looking downcast.

A rare moment when Noah isn't around!

Being replaced by a baby has really taken a toll on poor Judah.

Judah proudly shows off his new police badge and gave me a 'deputy' orange sticker.

I know this newborn period won't last forever.  By at least 14 weeks Noah should be able to sleep at least 5 hours at a time and take naps on his own.  But that seems like a hopeless eternity when you have the baby blues.

Every morning I wake up and regret the fact that I've woken up.  Every morning I have to give myself a mental pep-talk just to cobble together the will to go on.

Usually, it's just a simple mantra that I try to believe each time I repeat it--it won't always be like this.  It will get better.  Just get through this one day.  One more day.  One day more.

Or when it's really bad...one more hour.

Week 7: The "S" Word

It's been a sleepless, restless, exhausting week yet again at the House of Noah.

Instead of sleeping 2 hour stretches at night, it seems Noah has decided to stir every hour or so instead.  So considerate of him.  And during the day, he has now decided that he would like us to hold him for all his naps.  That's a lot of holding (and aching arms and shoulders) when you consider that he naps 8-10 hours a day.

So even though Noah's barely turned 6 weeks old, I decided this can't go on any longer.  We are all simply too exhausted.  It's one thing to indulge a newborn when he's your first and only child.  But it's another thing entirely when you're also trying to care for a very needy toddler who is constantly weepy because he's not getting even a quarter of the attention that he's used to--poor Judah.

The spouse gives Noah some 'sun' time.  We make fat babies.

So I told the spouse we are going to start sleep-training.  Now.  Ah, the dreaded 'S' word.  The bane of all parent's existence (except those lucky 10% who have kids that sleep like rocks--how I hate those people).  I scoured all the baby books for support but none of them suggested sleep-training until the baby was at least   2 and a half months.  Better to wait till 12 weeks.

Well...if I waited any longer, I'm pretty sure I'd be dead from exhaustion.  So, nope.  The only thing I took comfort in was that many books say 15 to 20 minutes of crying wouldn't hurt a newborn.  So, that's something.

The first night of sleep training I had very modest goals for Noah.  I only wanted him to hold out for at least 2.5 hours before nursing him.  And I told myself I wouldn't let him cry for more than 20 minutes.  He actually did really well and only had 1 crying bout of 20 minutes long.  Turns out, I've been going to nurse him too early--without giving him a chance to grunt and settle back down himself!  I've decided to sleep well away from his room now and put on ear plugs so I only hear his 'real' cries.

The next night of sleep training was even better.  He cried 2 separate times for 8 minutes each time and slept 3.5 hour stretches.  I heard the Hallelujah chorus in my head and dared to hope.

But you know the thing about babies...just when you think you have it figured out, they often throw you and your damned optimism out the window and take a turn for the worse.

We'll see what tonight brings...

Meanwhile I've been consoling myself in the arms of the British aristocracy.  Yes, I'm finally watching the PBS sensation--Downton Abbey--while endlessly holding and rocking the baby.  So, silver lining after all.

Week 5 & 6

This post is going to be a mad-dash to the finish line--a thoughtless blog vomit of words--because I can't put the baby down anymore!

Noah used to be able to nap an hour or two on his own a couple times a day but not since last week.  Now the little man demands that somebody hold him for naps ALWAYS.  Okay, that's an exaggeration.  We can maybe put him down on his own for about 20 minutes before he starts stirring and demanding the human touch.

So of course my free-time has now whittled down to zero.  When I do put Noah down for those 20 precious minutes it's a mad triage analysis in my head.  Do I pee first?  Eat first?  Check my email?  Pay the bills?  Wash dishes?  Clean up Judah's toys strewn all over the floor that is bound to kill someone someday?  Time is ticking!!!!!  Aaaaah!!!!

I'm not going to lie--showering is a low priority.  I stink.

But as bad as it's gotten with Noah, he's still a hundred times easier than life with Judah as a newborn.  When I go back and read the Judah newborn chronicles on my blog, I shudder in horror.  How did we ever survive that?!  Sure Noah likes to be held, but a gentle rocking and cuddling is enough for him.  Judah demanded to be bounced vigorously in the ergo and constantly.  No sitting back in a rocking chair or relaxing on a couch with that one.

And Noah can sit in a bouncy chair forever when he's awake.  Judah sat in the same exact bouncy chair for all of 2 minutes his entire infancy.  Even when Judah was awake, he demanded constant attention and cuddling.

But night-time Noah is still a pain in the butt--nursing every 2 hours or less!  BUT, it's better than old night-time Judah since Noah doesn't have the same bad reflux and I can just nurse him in bed with me all night, usually.  The only problem with Noah is that he sometimes doesn't switch to 'night time mode' until 1 am!  Judah always switched over around 9 pm.  I'm thinking it's because we kept the house dark with Judah so he would get sleep cues at a reasonable hour.  But with Noah, we've been careless about having all the lights on in the house even at 10 pm.

Anyway, here's a list of things I've tried to do to make Noah's digestion/life better (how's that for a totally horrible/nonexistant transition):

--give him Mommy's Bliss gripe water whenever he seems gassy.  That thing seems to work really well!  As soon as I give it to him he always burps and/or farts a lot and seems to ease right down.

--cut out all my favorite foods--dairy, chocolate and caffeine.  SUCKS to be me.

--give him probiotics (from a medicine dropper cuz the dude doesn't take a bottle anymore)!!!!  He took a bottle early on (week 3) but now doesn't know what the heck to do with it.  I don't know whether to try yet again or just give up...  I hate pumping anyway...

--read Harvey Karp's new book about baby sleep.  I love Harvey Karp.  I wish he could be my live-in nanny.

Week 4: Noah in the Night

I'm going to keep this one short because I am SUPER tired.  Why?

Because our night-nanny left last week and I've been wrangling with Noah all night by myself for 3 days.  He's an easy chill guy during the day but night-time Noah is frankly a bit of a nightmare.

With the night-nanny he would only nurse every 3-4 hours.  But now that it's just me he wakes every 1.5 to 2 hours to nurse (he probably did that before but the night-nanny soothed him down again without the magic of boob juice)  On top of that he has horrible gas, and sometimes just stays awake for 2 hours--just for fun!  Bottom line--I've maybe gotten 4-5 hours of fragmented sleep each day.  An hour here, an hour there.

You're lucky I think your to cute to abandon at my local fire station.

It's so miserable I think I'll just let him sleep next to me so I don't have to fully wake up and get him from his crib to nurse each time.  Ugh, I feel like such a zombie.

Power to the baby!  I will resist the urge to sleep at night!

Sleep deprivation is no joke people.  No joke.

The Good Stuff

Sometimes Judah can be the biggest pain in the neck.  But other times he can be so incredibly endearing.

A few days ago he got into a weird attitude of gratitude and started going through his favorite toys, saying:

Judah: Mommy, did you buy me this kitchen?
Me: Yes [so weird since he knows I bought it for him 2 months ago]
Judah: Oh!  Thank you!  Big hug!  [Judah gives me a big hug]

Judah: Mommy, did you buy me this police car?
Me: [laughing] Yes
Judah: Oh!  Thank you mommy!  Kiss!  [Judah plants a kiss on me]

He did this with 3 or 4 more items while I exchanged puzzled looks with the spouse.  What a wonderful weirdo.

And then just today he climbed in our bed this morning and got in some nice cuddles before going off to daycare.  But before leaving he said "Mommy, I want to spend all day with you!"  When I asked him why he replied "Because I love you!  Big hug!"

And then I melted into a puddle of mommy-goo.

Week 3

I've been doing a lot of mental comparisons between Judah's early days and Noah's, trying to figure out if I lucked out this time and finally got an "easy" baby.

So far, the jury's still out, but I'm leaning towards the "easy" baby label with Noah.  The dude sleeps a lot.  Which is why almost every picture we have of him is like this:

He eats, sleeps, poops, and repeats.  At this age, Judah would already have 4-5 hour wake-periods, which were mostly spent screaming his head off.  And the only way to calm him down or help him sleep was to bounce him on an exercise ball while wearing him in the ergo carrier.  I spent 8-10 freaking hours PER DAY doing that for the first 3 months of his life.  Ugh.  Gotta love colick.

But Noah isn't that easy as he's starting to exhibit symptoms of bad reflux problems, similar to what Judah had as well.  I've decided it's time to start with the probiotics and see if that helps.  Just sent the spouse to the nutrition store to buy some baby-dophilus so...fingers crossed.

Either way, I am loving life with my new little man.  He's so cuddlicious and yummcious. Yes, the cuter you are, the more I feel the need to make up words to describe your cuteness.

I seriously can't stop putting my noise right over his mouth and taking a deep drag, like a crack addict getting her next hit.  Seriously, baby's breath is the most intoxicating smell on earth.  They need to sell this as a perfume so I can always get my fix.

Quick!  Take a picture!  I'm awake for 5 minutes!

And his cheeks.  His round plumpy cheeks!  The poor guy gets pecked to death with kisses constantly.

And I can't stop rubbing his soft baby head of hair.

Mommy's drug of choice

Mommy loves her some newborn!

Judah has been adjusting surprisingly well to me constantly cuddling and inhaling this new little man.  Judah lets me nurse and hold Noah as much as I need to, as long as Judah gets his "nursing" time right after.

Don't worry, I'm not nursing my two year old.  Judah just wants me to simulate the comforting closeness by cuddling him while he drinks his COW'S milk bottle.

I really do have to give Judah credit for his generally generous nature.  Just yesterday he told me the following hierarchy of preferences:

Mommy is my favorite person. (Yay me!)
Daddy is my favorite daddy.  (Hilariously specific)
Noah is my favorite baby. (Yay Noah!)

So far so good!

Week 2

Week 2 has been much the same as week 1 except I'm starting to feel the drag of fragmented sleep a lot more.  Man it sucks to only sleep 2-3 hours at a time.  I can't believe I've been sleeping like that since Noah was born and probably will continue to do so for at least another week or so.  Ugh.

All this crappy sleep is making me into a super crabby person, and sadly, I think I've been taking it out on Judah the most.  I feel awful every time I recall how cranky and short-tempered I am with him.  How I get so quickly annoyed at his antics.  How I grit my teeth and stiffen my neck and count the minutes until he finally goes down for a nap.

But honestly, the kid can be really hard to handle with a full tank of sleep and energy.  I don't know if I should attribute his oppositional behavior to the 'terrible twos' or if it's just part of his personality (because honestly, the spouse is one of the MOST oppositional, autonomy-seeking people I know)--but whatever the reason, it is grinding me down people.  Grinding.  Me.  Down.

They're so sweet before they turn into little toddler monsters.

EVERYTHING must be challenged.  NOTHING can be agreed to without first whining, running around, yelling 'No!', etc.  In fact, the very act of suggesting something triggers Judah's defiance and makes him want to do the exact opposite.

And of course we have to set boundaries and check unacceptable behavior.  So there are an endless string of time-outs threatened and given and given yet again.  It is exhausting.

But Judah is exhausting even when he's not behaving badly.  When he's just being a normal, regular kid, he is constantly talking, asking, questioning, inquiring, telling us what to do, telling us what he would like to do, telling us his random observations, talk talk talk talk talk!  I turned to the spouse the other day and said, "Gosh, I really miss the time when Judah didn't know how to talk."

But Judah doesn't just talk, he yells.  His 'normal' speaking voice is just so very loud.  And the kid, like most 2 year olds, repeats himself endlessly.  Just the other day he was delighted to find out that his rubber snake glows in the dark (thanks Lauren!).  And he just HAD to shout out his discovery no less than 16 times.  Do you know how annoying that is?  Let me try to simulate it for you...

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

"That's nice Judah."

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

"Yes Judah"

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

"Mmmhmm"

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

"mmm"

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

"okay"

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

"How many times are you going to say this?"

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

"Stay still, I'm trying to put on your diapers."

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

"Stop moving."

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

"I know"

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

*silence--counting in my head*

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

*silence--11*

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

*silence--12*

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

*silence--13*

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

*silence--14*

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

*silence--15*

"IT GLOW IN THE DARK MOMMY!"

*silence*
*oh thank God it's over*

See what I mean?  See what I have to endure every minute of every day?!  You add some really crappy sleep to the mix and you get super-cranky-mommy.  But I do feel awful about it.

So every day after I put him to bed, I tell myself to try to be better tomorrow.  I have to be more patient.  To smile more at him.  To give him longer cuddles.  To love him even when I don't like him.

Judah has a fun outing with dad and gives mommy a much appreciated break!

And to make the spouse take him out of the house more for some father-son-only time!

Whobody Wants Some Money?

Sometimes Judah says things that are so endearing I actually end up adopting his sayings (even though I know I'm sometimes reinforcing bad grammar--oh well, yolo).

Judah-ism #1 (said around 1.5 years old, has stopped saying it for awhile now but it was so cute): My do it!

Translation: I'll do it myself.

Judah-ism #2 (said around 2): Hey, noooo!

I just love how he has to say "hey" before he says no.

Judah-ism #3 (said recently): Whobody...?

As in: Whobody wants some money?

Judah says this while throwing a fistful of fake coins in the air.

Week 1

It's been over a week that Noah's been around so here's a quick update on how that's been.

The first thing the spouse and I noticed about Noah is that he looks almost exactly like Judah.  So much so that we kept calling him 'Judah' in the first early days.  That evolved into calling him 'Ju-ah' in an effort to remember his name was Noah.  Every time I looked at Noah, I felt like I was in a weird sci-fi movie where there was some wrinkle in the space-time continuum and I got to have my first baby back as my second baby.  Looper baby!

Which is which?  They're like twins separated by 2.5 years!

But that's pretty much where the similarities stop.  Anyone who's familiar with my account of Judah's early baby days know that it was pretty much hell...or as the kids say these days--a hot mess.  Even as early as Day 1, Judah showed his very vocal, expressive nature.  Change his diapers--WAAAAAAAH!  Change his clothes--WAAAAAAAH!  Put him down in the bassinet--WAAAAAAAAAH!  Put him in the car seat--WAAAAAAAAAH!  You get the idea.

Noah on the other hand has been pretty calm and quiet about everything.  I remember how anxious I was taking Judah to his first peds visit when he was 4 days old.  He cried during the car trip.  He cried during the visit.  He basically never stopped crying except when I was nursing him.  Noah, on the other hand, didn't make a peep the entire time I took him to the peds, even though I woke him up in the middle of a really good  nap, his head flopped over the entire time in the car seat (poor guy), and I didn't nurse him at all.  He was amazingly calm.  My angel baby.

My sweet, handsome little man.

No, Noah is not the problem.  Judah, on the other hand...

He's generally pretty accepting of mommy taking care of another baby, but he's definitely going through his own journey of jealousy and anger.  Poor kid.  He'll let me nurse Noah, but then insist on having a milk bottle  while being rocked in my lap, just like a baby.  He even insists on laying on Noah's nursing pillow while enjoying his milk bottle.  I can't tell if Judah's being more clingy since his clingy-ness level has always been a 10 out of 10.  But a few nights back he did tell me "I hate the baby" and often says "Mommy, I'm a baby!"

Judah has a rare moment of affection for his brother--when he's not consumed with jealousy.

But generally, Judah isn't that annoyed at Noah probably cuz Noah spends most of his day sleeping, as a proper newborn should (unlike newborn-Judah who maybe only slept 12 hours each day, ugh).  And there's always daddy to play with Judah and take him out of the house.  Thank God for paternity leave!  I'm going to be really really sad when it's over.

For me personally, week 1 was all about getting over physical postpartum aches and pains.  For several days I could barely move an inch due to the stitches and bursitis in my right hip.  Just to shift my bottom on the couch felt like a monumental task.  And the engorgement--oh the oh so uncomfortable over-producing engorgement.  Moooooo.

But overall, the adjustment so far has been pretty smooth--thanks mostly to Noah's accommodating nature.  I'm finding myself feeling so much more "present" this time around.  With Judah the early months were a total blur of stress and exhaustion.  But with Noah, everything is lucid and I really am cherishing every moment I spend with him.  Maybe because he's calm.  Maybe because he's probably my last baby.  Maybe because I'm calmer this time too.

And I know how quickly they grow.

Noah's Birth Story

Noah’s birth was like the classic textbook birth—perfect in every way (but definitely not to be confused with painless)!  Although I had already gone through labor with Judah, I still had no idea what to expect with Noah as Judah’s birth was induced.  This time, my body did it all on its own—from start to finish—and it was awesome (but again, definitely not to be confused with painless).

Me and Judah on the day Noah was born--Judah's last day of being my one and only.

After lumbering around like a giant ogre for 2 weeks, my cervix was still only 0.5 cm dilated on Noah’s due date.  Argh.  I forced myself to take a 45 minute walk (despite a persistent pain in my right hip due to bursitis) the day Noah was born, hoping that would help jump start my labor—guess that worked!

Around 3 pm my body evacuated all the food in my tummy to make way for the baby (it was not pretty, let’s just leave it at that).  Around 6 pm my mucus plug completely fell out and I had bloody show.  And around 9 pm I felt my first crampy contractions.  At first they were mildly uncomfortable and pretty far apart—15 min, 12 min, etc.  But by 10:30 pm they were definitely getting into a good 7-8 min pattern.

Of course my first thought was—oh crap, I just put my toddler down for bedtime!  I’d hate to wake him up on a midnight run to the hospital (40 min away) only to have the nurses tell me to go home cuz it was false labor.  The logistics of labor are infinitely more annoying with a toddler in tow!

So I called the OB on duty and she told me (and I quote)—Okay, you don’t want to come in and get checked?  Then you can just have your husband deliver your baby!

I responded with annoyed silence for about 10 seconds.  Man, OB’s can be cranky and sarcastic.  I prayed that she wouldn’t be the one to deliver my baby (spoiler alert—she was!)

When the contractions got to be very consistently 5 min apart at 11 pm, I told my spouse that it’s show-time.  Operation Deliver Noah was officially underway.  Go!  Go!  Go!  (Yes, I talk to him like we’re on a SWAT team).

We finished packing our half-packed bags, dropped our sleepy toddler off at his old nanny’s house (an hour away) and swung back to the hospital around midnight.  My doula (aka labor coach) came in while I was in triage and I waited forever for the nurse to come and check my cervix.  At around 3 am someone FINALLY checked me only to find that I was a disappointing 2-3 cm.  Only?!  What?!

Before I go on, let me say a word about doulas.  Doulas are awesome.  If you want to attempt an all-natural, epidural-free birth, I kinda think they are indispensable.  My first doula was super experienced and the crème de la crème of doulas (read: I paid a buttload of money for her services).  I really didn’t think she did that much for me so this time I decided to cheap out and hire a massage therapist who aspired to be a doula but has never been hired by anyone for that purpose (read: I paid ¼ of what I did for my first one).  I figured the thing I wanted most during labor was someone to massage me and give me pressure at the right points anyway, so might as well hire a massage therapist!

In the end, I realize there still is value in hiring a very experienced doula.  Sure it’s much more expensive but she will be able to coach you through a lot more verbally and knows different positions you can try out to help the labor along.  Although I got an awesome 7 hour massage from my 2^nd doula, she really couldn’t help me with pain management in any other way and her lack of birthing knowledge almost caused me to have the baby on the floor without the doctor present!  More on that later.

Anyway, from about 3 am to 5 am my contractions started to get a lot more painful—probably an 8 or 9 on a pain scale of 1-10.  Whatever jokey, smiley disposition I had was quickly eroding and I was starting to get really worried that I wouldn’t have the energy to push this baby out after pulling an all-nighter.  I was getting really tired.  Tired of the whole darn thing.

When I asked them to check me at 5 am, it was REALLY disappointing—just 4 cm!  All that time and pain and I had only progressed one measly cm.  (Btw, for those who don’t know—10 cm is the magic number when the cervix opens enough that you can actually start pushing the baby out).

But I was a little heartened by the fact that last time, it only took me 3 hours to go from 4 cm to 10 cm.  So maybe this time, it would also go quickly now that I had reached a solid 4 cm.  And I was right.  From that point on, everything took off like gangbusters.

The contractions started coming on stronger and faster—every 30 seconds one of those mofos would rip through me like a bat out of hell and send me whimpering and begging for mercy from the blinding pain.  On a pain scale of 1-10 I’d put them at…oh, about a 20.

After a couple of these bad boys I was pretty much ready to throw in the towel and get me a freaking epidural.  As I said during labor (my last semi-witty remark before I lost all sense of humor)—sh*t just got real people.  But some masochistic part of me kept saying—one more.  Just one more.  If I can just hold out for 2 hours, maybe that’s all I need for my cervix to reach 10 cm.  Just 15 more minutes.

The first hour was hell.   Each time a contraction came I felt like a very small child facing a rising tsunami of pain head on.  There is nowhere to hide.  There is nowhere to run.  The only way through it is, well…through it.  Right down the middle of the line of fire.

And that tsunami came and came and came.  Every time it crashed over my head, wracking me with unspeakable torturous pain, I vowed—never again.  This is for SURE the last time I’m ever going through labor without pain meds.  The motto of the Jewish holocaust rang in my head the whole time—NEVER AGAIN!  But I believe my exact words, each time, was—F*CK!  F*CK!  F*CK!  F*CK!  F*********CK! (which is the only time I’m allowed to swear near the spouse's sensitive ears).

And then 2 hours went by and my urge to push became unstoppable.  Typically you shouldn’t push until the nurse checks you and says that your cervix is dilated enough to start pushing.  But my stupid labor nurse kept repeating her uninformed mantra to me—if you don’t feel pressure all the time then you’re not ready to push.  That’s pure b.s.  People, never fall for that.  I felt pressure only when I had a contraction and believe me, IT WAS TIME TO PUSH.

The nurse refused to check me even though I told her IT’S TIME TO PUSH LADY.  I guess she didn’t believe that I could go from 4 to 10 cm in just 2 hours.  Anyway, at some point your body doesn’t care what medical professionals say—it’s just going to do what it was designed to do.  And I was involuntarily pushing hard with each contraction.

After a couple of those hard pushes I remember yelling—I NEED TO GET ON THE BED!  NOW!  (I had been sitting on an exercise ball the whole time cuz it felt better to be vertical).  But suddenly I could feel something different—like a little head making its way down the pipeline.

And then that silly nurse came and took one look at the head coming down the pipeline and said—whoah, baby’s comin’!  WE NEED A DOCTOR NOW!  Five more minutes and 3 more good pushes later, baby was out for good.

Of course those last 3 pushes were accompanied by the longest most inhuman screams that ever erupted from the depths of my being, but finally, it was over.  It was all blessedly over.

That my friends is the look of pure relief.

And there was my squirmy little creature, who looked shockingly like his older brother at the same moment in time.  My perfect, red-faced, hairy little creature.

And now, writing this account a week later from the comfort of my own home.  I’m starting to forget.  Was the pain really that bad?  Was it really all that awful?  Would I really never do it again?

How quickly bad gives way to good. 

How wholly is pain swallowed up by joy.

How easily we forget momentary afflictions in the face of lasting glory.

When Judah Met Noah

One of the most precious things I own--a 2 minute video of Judah meeting Noah for the very first time in the NICU (Noah had jaundice).  I love the look of worry and distress on Judah's face when he says "He's crying!" at the 57 second mark.
 

Judah meets Noah from El Bebo on Vimeo.

Little Noah

Dear Noah,

Before you were even born I already felt a lot of mommy guilt.

These precious shoes are one of the only special things Noah got just for him (not a handmedown from Judah).  You can order them on my friend's etsy site: Little Pear Company

I wasn't as "good" during my pregnancy with you as I was with your brother.  I exercised a heckuva lot less (okay, like none really). I ate a lot more crap (specifically top ramen, spam and brownies).  And was generally constantly exhausted running around after your brother, among other things.

Life was so busy and hectic I didn't even take you to most of the OB check ups I was supposed to have.  I postponed taking the gestational diabetes test for at least 3 months, and thankfully, found that we were in the clear.

And I'm sorry you're never going to get anything of your own.  You will always be wearing your brother's old clothes.  Playing with his old toys.  Using his old gear.  And standing in the shadow of every milestone he reaches first.

Even your name doesn't have quite the parental pride your brother's name has.  We loved Judah's name the second we thought of it.  We thought it fit perfectly in every way and locked it in instantly in our hearts and minds.

Your name...not so much.  It was acceptable.  Inoffensive.  But not something we really wanted to commit to...but it's growing on us.

But I certainly liked your name a lot more when I found out it means "rest."  Oh please, please live up to that blessed word.  Please be the opposite of your older brother!

And to be perfectly honest, the main reason we wanted to have you is for the sake of your older brother.  We wanted him to have a buddy for life--someone who will be there with him long after we are gone.  We wanted him to understand how to love and share everything with at least one other person.  We wanted to make sure we didn't spoil him too much with time and attention.

Anyway, suffice it to say, you are not getting the primo treatment your brother got (pun intended).  You are not our first boy and we'll always have less time and attention for you because of that simple fact.

But if our attention is divided, know that our love is not.

Our hearts felt and continue to feel the same infinite weight filling every fiber of our being the second we saw you that first miraculous moment.

And although you will never be 'first', you have something much better than Judah ever will--the joyful proud love of your older brother.  

He kissed you every morning and every night while you were in my tummy.  And he continues to do the same now that you are born.  He wants nothing more than to protect you and make sure you are well cared for and has a whole box of toys that he put aside just for you.

He thinks you're the best--he says "My dai-dai going to hit all the other babies"--okay, so he's a little violent, but his money is on you!

So welcome to our family, little Noah. Know that our love for you is second to none.

50 Shades of Toddlerdom

I've totally fallen off the blog-wagon lately so this is my catch-up post.  Warning--it ain't gonna be pretty.

There are literally hundreds of topics I've wanted to blog about but will probably never get to because my due date is TODAY and although the baby's probably not coming today, it will be a comin' soon and my life will end (for at least 2 months).  And so will my will to blog.

So, before I completely let things slip away in the sands of time, unrecorded for posterity, here is a completely random short list of stuff I wanted to blog about.

(1) Major mommy fail--I am my kid's own worst potty-training enemy.  Judah's been ready for underwear for at least 6 months now.  He always tells me "poo-poo coming" and goes wonderfully in his potty every time.  BUT, when he tells me "pee-pee coming" I reply "Just go in your diaper."

Sorry Judah--you look so proud but these will just have to wait!

I know, how bad am I?!  I have no real excuse except that I'm lazy.  It's really hard to get up from the floor or couch when you're in the 3rd trimester.  I hate helping him get dressed again after bathroom trips cuz he's SO wiggly.  And, the main reason--I hate public restrooms.  Sorry Judah--mommy doesn't want to take you to the nasty bathroom at Target or the mall or anywhere really.

When I told this to his pediatrician she literally said this--Great!  You can just send him off to college in diapers!

Hmmmm...someone loves sarcasm.

(2) The co-sleep creep--How we almost became co-sleepers.  The main reason I haven't blogged for a while is because I haven't slept well for the last 10 days.  Because for the last 10 days Judah started to crawl into our bed to sleep with us.

For his entire life he has slept in his own room but suddenly the dude decides he needs to run out of his room at 4 am and crawl in with mommy (probably because we just transitioned him from his crib to a real bed).  At first we tolerated this because most of the night was over and no one wants to roll out of their warm bed in the freezing cold and set off the worst alarm noise ever known to mankind--a shrieking toddler.

But then 4 am became 2 am.  And 2 am became midnight.  And before you know it, Judah refused to start out his bedtime in his room.  Being the passive conflict-avoider that I am, I was ready to give in to his demand to co-sleep except for the fact that I felt like a total zombie every morning.  Being woken up 4-5 times a night by a toddler whining for you to "pat" him back to sleep is just not viable.

And so we bit the bullet and sleep-trained him YET AGAIN 2 nights ago.  Judah cried long and hard and said some things over and over again that will always make me die a little inside every time I think about it--Mommy, where are you?  Where is my mommy?  Mommy I crying!  Mommy, can you pat me a little bit? But in the end he gave up.  Or as the spouse so horribly puts it--we broke his spirit!

No, but seriously, I'm so thankful for the advice and stories of other mom's experiences.  Made me feel like I wasn't the most horrible parent in the world and that I was actually doing the kid a service--teaching him how to soothe himself.

But part of me can't help but wonder if I'm scarring him for life with all this sleep-training...

(3) Candyland--the ultimate personality test.  A thoughtful friend bought Judah his first board game over Christmas--Candyland!  I had fond memories playing this with my older brother growing up.  Okay, that's a lie--I have one traumatic memory of playing this with my older brother when I was around Judah's age.

I just remember being super rage-pissed when my brother won the game and flinging the board upside-down and causing all the hundreds of pieces to go flying around the room.  My brother was so annoyed at my hulk-smash reaction that he vowed never to play that game with me again.  And we never did.

Judah, on the other hand, had a completely different mentality than me at his age.  When we played the game Judah decided he wanted to make up his own rules.  Even though I got to the castle first and he acknowledged that "mommy won," he quickly moved himself into the castle in his next turn and declared that he had won too.

That's my look of bewilderment mixed with subtle fear.  I don't know what to do with rule-breakers.

And forget taking one card at a time from the top of the pile.  Judah would go through each card until he found the special ones that he liked--the ones with a picture of a candy or pastry on it.

The entire time I kept saying "No, that's not how you play the game Judah" or "You're not following the rules Judah" and "You're playing the game wrong!"  And believe me, Judah understands the rules (because he largely followed them the first time we played), he just subsequently decided to ignore them.  He wanted to play the game his own way.

And that's when I realized--this child is nothing like me.  I am a goal-oriented, rule-abiding, authority-loving follower (and sometimes rage-a-holic).  My toddler is a rule-smashing, authority-ignoring, goal-reorienting drummer of his own beat.

I am and have always been a sheep.  While he's more like...his dad.

Heaven help me.

(4) Lastly, I leave you with one of my favorite memories of the last week.  Judah opened his sleepy eyes one morning in bed with us and smiled like an angel.  With my heart bursting with love, I said "Judah, you are my special guy."

And without missing a beat Judah replied "And you my special lady."

Awwwww, can't you just hear the angels in heaven weeping with the tears of a hundred unicorns?

I know, you're welcome.

Top Ten Mommy Moments of 2012

You know what I love best about the post-Christmas season? All the "Best of" lists that come out.

Best Movies of 2012. Best Books of 2012. Best or Worst Dressed of 2012. Time's People of the Year!

So in honor of that awesome tradition--here is my

Top Ten Best Mommy Photos/Moments of the Year 

(Do you hear the epic music in the background? No? Read the title again then, this time with feeling and a slight echo effect):

#10--This picture was taken in January of 2012 when Judah was a mere 16 months old.  It was the first time he went up the stairs and down the slide ALL BY HIMSELF!  Well, the first time I witnessed it anyway.  It really highlighted to me how grown-up my helpless baby had become.

#9--I love this pic because it shows Judah's incredibly nurturing side.  He often cradled his stuffed animals (and later on, his baby doll once we bought him one), swaddled them in a blanket, and fed them pretend milk bottles.  Later on he showed his nurturing side by constantly showering my preggo belly with slobbery kisses and hugs and squealing "I love you dai-dai (translation--baby brother)!  I miss you!" and bringing an endless array of toys and books to show dai-dai.

#8--There's nothing special going on with this pic.  I just love it.  My baby and me.  Actually, now that I think about it, this pic was taken a few weeks after I completely weaned Judah and represents our successful transition from only mommy-milk to only cow's milk.  I was afraid that weaning would diminish our bond (esp since Judah LOVED his nursing time), but this pic shows that we're as close as ever.

#7--Likewise, there's nothing special going on here either.  I just love that it captures my favorite thing in the world--kissing my baby.  In 2012 Judah finally learned to say "I love you mommy!" and really understood what he was saying.  I have to milk these moments as much as possible before he turns into a surly pre-teen and tells me he's completely embarrassed by my presence.

#6--This pic was taken a week after his 2nd birthday.  I just love the expression on his face and his little posture (his favorite pose--arms behind his head).  Relaxed, confident, a little mischievous.  This pic really shows, what I believe to be, his true essence.

#5--Another uneventful mom and son pic.  I just love how relaxed and happy we look.  Being a mom is the epitome of the paradoxical experience.  I love every moment of being with Judah and I want to run away and tear my hair out almost every moment I'm with him too.

#4--This pic was taken by the spouse while I was slaving away at the office.  I like the look of delight on his face.  It represents Judah's love of all things with wheels--trains, motorcycles, cars, police cars, firetrucks, tow trucks, and ESPECIALLY garbage trucks.  He's really blossomed into a stereotypical boy-in-love-with-vehicles this year.

#3--This pic represents Judah's blossoming individualism.  It was also taken by the spouse while I was slaving away at the office.  Judah chose this outfit 100% all by himself.  He has an inordinate love of stripes, especially red stripes and has thrown many a meltdown tantrum when we don't let him wear this exact combo.  I can no longer be held responsible for how my son looks in public--he has a (deranged) mind of his own and clothing aesthetics is just not a battle worth fighting.

#2--This year we bought our first house where we plan on living in until the kids move out to college, God willing.  And to me, nothing says house in the burbs like opening presents under a tree on Christmas morning.

Actually, we almost didn't get a tree this year--I was too overwhelmed by everything else to even contemplate the whole tree thing--and Target, Home Depot and Michael's were completely sold out.  Randomly I went to my local Rite Aid and lo and behold--they had an awesome fake tree marked 60% off.  And that is the story of how Rite Aid saved Christmas.

And the #1 Best Mommy Moment of the Year........drumroll please.......
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The moment I found out I was preggo with Baby #2!

We had tried for an uncomfortably and somewhat nervously long while and finally, unbelievably, seemingly randomly, it happened!  I hesitated putting this pic up since it's so...biological.  But it really does capture the best moment of 2012 for me as a mom.

I took this test at around 6:00 am in the morning, well before the spouse would wake up and took this pic since I needed evidence to show him before it faded away!  I was soooo excited for him to wake up and see this in an email attachment and wet his pants in joy, that I ruined the whole moment.  I just couldn't wait for his normal wake up time.  I actually prodded him awake way too early and shouted at him to CHECK YOUR EMAIL!  Which he grumpily did, stared at the pic befuddled, and grunted something incomprehensible after I explained everything.

What a buzz kill.

But in RETROSPECT--this was an awesome moment.  Indeed, the MOST awesome moment of 2012.  With #2 we feel like our family is complete.  Done.  Finito.  Just right.

It's always hard to predict the future, but I'm pretty sure the Most Awesome Moment of 2013 will be when we get to meet this new dude.

Any day now...

From Us to You

In lieu of real Christmas cards (do I really need to explain why we didn't have real cards this year?) we send you this awesome virtual card:

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Judah demonstrates the joy of receiving...a new mini-kitchen set!

May this new year bring you all your heart's desires.

Judah demonstrates the pain of learning to share his new mini-kitchen set.

And may your mom never be required to force you to share.

Les Miserables

Sometimes I just have to marvel at this whole parenting thing.

Every sociological survey shows the same thing--parents are miserable creatures.  On every possible scale of happiness, parents of young kids score significantly lower than people without kids.

And man, is that an obvious 'duh' conclusion to me.  As a parent, I realize now that sleeping more than 3 hours at a time is a privilege.  Not a right.  A privilege.

And so is eating when you're STARVING.  And private bathroom time.  I can't tell you how many times I'm trying to have a private moment in the bathroom and for some inexplicable reason my toddler is there.  Even if I tell the spouse that I'M IN THE BATHROOM SO DON'T TAKE HIM NEAR ME--after about 20 seconds of alone time I'll hear "Let's see what mommy's doing.  Let's go find mommy."  WTH?!

And you know your life is sad when going to the office feels like going on vacation.  How sad when you happily exchange the stress of constantly wrangling with your kid with the stress of high-pressure deadlines and cranky bosses.  At least my cranky boss doesn't follow me into the bathroom stall and whine unceasingly when I'm on the phone or surfing the internet for 5 minutes.

The other day, in utter exhaustion, I told my spouse "I think we made a huge mistake having a kid.  Huge mistake."  It was yet another long day of wrangling and administering multiple time-outs and all I wanted was to have a peaceful dinner, with the spouse, in front of the tv, watching whatever documentary Tivo deemed worthy of our preferences.  That's not asking much right?

Do you know when the last time we got to do that was?

That's right, before the kid was born.

Now we never watch Frontline.  We never even eat at the same time.  Come to think of it, we never go on dates.  We never go on hikes.  We never watch movies in the theater.  We never go to restaurants.  We never go shopping.  So in short...we never have fun.

All this to say, why do people do this to themselves?

Maybe with your first kid, you didn't know any better.  You were young, ignorant and childless.  But why do people then have a second kid?  And some have even more after that?!

Because.  As a parent, you discover an amazing paradox.  There are moments.  Brief shining moments when you realize there's something so inexpressibly divine about loving another human being simply for no other reason than his existence.

There's something so incredibly freeing about being completely tied down.

To give your whole self without reserve and without conditions.  To make your happiness forever and directly proportional to the happiness of another.

To love with your whole heart.

As that great last line sung by Jean Valjean reminds us (sigh, yet another awesome movie I will probably never see in the theater thanks to parenthood)--to love another person is to see the face of God.

Who knew wiping another person's poop day in and day out is indeed holy ground?

LOOK AT ME!!!

It's often said the opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.

To make someone feel truly awful, just ignore him.

If you hate them, revile them, insult them, rage against them, at least they know they are worthy of your attention, however negative.

But if you simply ignore them, they realize they are worthless--their existence has no significance whatsoever.

There is a theory that massive public shootings, starting from Columbine, are motivated by the desire to be known.  Notoriety, revilement, negative attention (even posthumous) is better than no attention whatsoever.  Better to be significantly hated, than to have no significance.  Period.

I don't really follow the details of mass shootings very closely, but my vague recollection is that all of the gunmen have been loners, outsiders, marginalized outliers in their respective communities.  This current gunman most certainly was.

We ignore the marginalized at our peril.  And we publicize them posthumously at our peril as well.

May the press and public not reward this kind of behavior.

Sh*t Just Got Real

When I think about the fact that there's only 4 weeks until my due date, I kind of want to cry--just curl up in a fetal position (how appropriate) under my covers and cry.

If this baby comes even just a little bit early, we are really screwed.

Here's a list of all the things I have NOT done yet:
--find an OB in my new city.  EEEK!
--register at the labor and delivery department in the hospital in my new city.
--find someone to watch Judah while I'm giving birth.
--find someone to help with the newborn after the birth.
--dig out Judah's old baby stuff--all still in boxes!
--obtain and install an infant car seat.
--unpack 80% of our crap from the move.

It just seems like daily maintenance chores takes up 95% of the day--and the list of to-dos just gets longer, no matter how much I manage to cross off.  Yes, some progress has been made, but for every one thing I do, 3 new things manage to pop up!  It's like a whack-a-mole game from hell.

These days I'm so stressed out of my mind I think I have a permanent scowl on my face and the poor spouse has had to put up with my incredibly short fuse and grumpy disposition for weeks.

Of course it doesn't help that I like to distract myself from my stress and misery by surfing FB and other sites periodically throughout the day.  Argh.

It's times like these I really need to just keep looking forward instead of regretting the time I've wasted and the fears and what-ifs that may or may not happen.  As Daenerys Targaryen, the Stormborn, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Trueborn Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men (so sue me, I'm a Game of Thrones nerd) always says:

If I look back, I am lost.

Another one for the virtual scrapbook

Last week I was about to leave your room after putting you to bed when we had this short exchange:

Me:  Okay, good night Judah.  Mommy's leaving now.
Judah: No!  No mommy, don't leave!
Me:  Sorry Judah, Mommy has to go sleep in her own bed.
Judah: Okay, but don't close the door though.

What?!  You know the proper usage of the conjunction 'though'?!

Kidnappers

Every night (pretty much since Judah slept through the night around 9 months) I've been gripped with fear as I torture myself with thoughts that Judah might be kidnapped from his bed while I'm sound asleep.

To make matters worse, I like to wear earplugs to bed because I married Mr. Snoresalot.  I can't hear a thing with those things on!

Many's a time I actually got up out of my comfy bed at 2 am and laid next to Judah's bedroom door, like a human guard-dog--so gripped by fear was I that an intruder might come and take my precious baby.  I'm not proud of it...but it's the sad, sad truth.

So yesterday, I finally decided to arm myself with some knowledge--well, actually I was too tired and lazy so I asked the spouse to arm me with some knowledge by googling 'kidnappers'.

Apparently, in 1999 (yeah, these kidnap sites need to update their stuff) only 115 kids in America were kidnapped by strangers (80% or so are kidnapped by a family member or acquaintance).  Of the stranger kidnappings, the vast majority happen either on the street, or the kid is lured into the kidnapper's car.  There is almost no incidence of a kid being kidnapped from a home invasion.

And, sadly for parents of girls, the vast majority of stranger kidnappings are of girls.

So, turns out stranger kidnapping of boys from their home at night is pretty rare--one might even say, nonexistent.

Thank goodness!  Knowledge really is power.  For the first time in a long time, I slept like a baby last night.

Mommy Has a Sad

Today sucked.

We spent 2 terrifying hours in the ER  to have a doctor check out a major contusion Judah got from a horrible fall.  He basically ran, nose-first, into the sharp edge of a bookcase that the spouse was constructing on the floor.  His entire body weight and all his momentum fell squarely and solely on his poor little nose.

We're going to tell people we enrolled him in the Toddler edition of UFC.  You should see the other 2 year old!

As the blood started pooling and the swelling began, we freaked out and hurriedly rushed to the nearest hospital, cursing every stoplight along the way.  We tried putting ice on it right away but quickly gave up when Judah screamed bloody murder each time.  So much for that.

The entire wait time, the spouse kept saying how Judah's nose was probably broken and there might be some painful 'resetting' needing to be done.  Thanks for scaring the crap out of me honey.  We braced ourselves for the worst.

In the end, the doctor sent us home with some neosporin and an icepack (which remains unused).  Nothing serious, apparently, just a really badly bruised nose.

As the hours ticked by, I kept replaying the event in my head.  Could we have prevented it?  Was there anything we could've done?  And honestly, my quick conclusion was and still is--no.  There's just no way we could've anticipated or prevented this--short of putting him in a strait-jacket and/or human cage.

There's just a hundred and one ways a crazy active toddler can hurt himself and there's just no sane way to really protect him all that much.  But that certainly didn't stop me from being a crazy vigilante after we came home.

Judah acted like nothing happened and even started skipping around the same fatal bookshelf.  How does this guy not have a healthy fear of that evil object now?!  He gallavanted about the house like he was invincible and I hovered around him closely, shouting constantly--don't run!  be careful!  don't touch that!

Sigh.  I know this is all futile.  He's a crazy active boy and one day (maybe more than once) he's going to break some major bone(s).  So what's a mom to do?

I know the right answer is to let go and accept the inevitable.  But seriously, I'm thinking...look into full-body armor for kids?  Padded helmets maybe?