Wednesday, March 14th, 2012
Capturing the First Smiles...
He smiled earlier this week. And this morning I got the biggest grin yet. My little man is melting my heart.
We are both definitely coming out of the fog. It’s been 8 weeks now and that means he is getting more alert each day. As am I. I actually went on a slow jog this weekend. It felt good.
The funny thing for me about baby #2 is how I forget to do the basics. With Fia I had a chart. It detailed her poops, pees, barf and bath. Emmett is lucky if I remember to bath him. Things like tummy time just often get forgotten. Last night I had him on for about 5 minutes and he seemed really excited about trying to roll over.
Our pediatrician had a great line for me I wanted to share. It might be the only thing I believe is true from a peds mouth (I wrote about my frustration with baby docs). He said you’ll be so focused on making sure your first-born doesn’t feel left out, that you’ll give her 80%. And for the rest of her life she’ll feel jipped for not having 100%. Your second born, on the other hand, will be eternally grateful for the 20% you manage to give him.
I had to laugh at that when I realized it had been almost a week since I bathed him. And yet, he seems perfectly happy and chill about it all. Maybe it’s just his temperament but he doesn’t seem like the wild child Fia was from the moment she came out.
My brother is super mellow. He ice climbs. As a profession (technically he’s called an Alpinist). If you haven’t heard of it, don’t worry. It’s insane to me. He lives in a shack in Colorado and travels to places like Patagonia and Pakistan to climb for months at a time.
I am the opposite. I like a good adventure, but I like my beautiful home, and all the comforts that go along with it. In other words, I don’t like roughing it anymore (unless I’m going to re-climb Mt Kilimanjaro).
Yet despite our differences, we’re incredibly close.
It will be fun to see how Fia and Em shape up in this world together. Smiling, I hope!
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bath, brother, doctors, Emmett, Fia, jog, jogging, newborn, newborn milestones, Pediatrician, pee, poop, pregnancy, pregnant, run, running, sister | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama, Newborn Care
Thursday, August 25th, 2011
BOY. Working titles: Little Leroy. Wayne Sanchez Junior. Baby Oops. Found out at 11 weeks when we got the CVS results back.
Fia Gets a Brother
I knew from the moment I got pregnant that it was an XY. I am usually not one of those people with a second sense for this sort of thing. But somehow I just knew.
When the genetic counselor called to tell us that the chromosomes looked normal (whew), she asked if we wanted to know the sex. Yes! I had rehearsed this moment for the past 2 days. I know she is going to say boy, but maybe just maybe, she’ll say girl.
Nope. My instincts were right. Boy. Oh boy.
If I’m being honest, there was a moment of disappointment, of mourning. Maybe it’s because I think we have a better chance of another great baby if it’s the same sex as Fia. Maybe it’s because I wanted her to have a sister. And maybe it’s because I am already so familiar with her. Change is scary.
There’s also a nagging fear with a boy: the most modern of medicine still can’t test for Autism and the rates are so much higher with boys. My husband’s nephew is severely autistic, which I know adds to my worry. But I know there is nothing I can do about it, so just like this “unexpected” pregnancy, I am going with it. I have to. I’m grateful for the tests we could do. And if something is wrong, we’ll deal.
In the weeks since the CVS I have wrapped my head around “boy” much more. Boys love their mammas. They are big snugglers. And puberty will probably be easier to deal with.
But in the meantime, do I really have to look forward to a penis peeing on me when I change his diapers? That doesn’t sound like very much fun.
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autism, baby, baby brother, baby sister, boy, brother, chromosomes, cvs, diapers, genes, genetic disorders, genetic testing, girl, pee, penis, pregnancy, same sex, sex, sister, testing, tests, Wayne Sanchez | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama, Mom Situations
Thursday, August 11th, 2011
Author’s note: I’m stealing a line from Julia’s blog on Parents. ie: If you are trying to get pregnant and having trouble conceiving, don’t read this.
At 14 weeks, baby in belly is the size of a lemon
When Fia was born we felt so lucky. She was healthy and happy. 20 months later, she is all that and more. And I continue to count my blessings. For that reason, and a few others, Phil and I didn’t see a sibling in her future–or ours. Neither of us wanted to jinx our perfect situation. We got a good one, why gamble? I figured maybe down the road we’d adopt.
Friends would say how great it is for kids to have siblings. I wasn’t convinced.
Half the time I hated my siblings and they hated me. There is no guarantee that everyone will like each other. It’s yet another roll of the dice. Just like procreating.
I also didn’t feel like going through another pregnancy. Granted, I had an easy one with Fia, but again, why gamble? Plus, in my AMA–Advanced Maternal Age– (roll eyes at that stupid term) I didn’t want to risk all the things that can happen with old ovaries.
In May, we came back from a family vacation in Costa Rica. Life got busy. I had to make a final trip down to FL to say goodbye to my dying mother. Then I was off to LA for a business trip.
In the back of my head I had a nagging feeling. But my stomach cramps and sore boobs reassured me. Any day now.
One night when Phil was out of town, I poured a nice big glass of wine for myself. I opened up my calendar and began to count. “27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33”… hmmm. I took a sip. Recounted. Sipped again. Recounted. I finished my wine, might have poured a little more, and went into the bathroom to pee.
My internal dialogue went like this: I’ll just look under the sink to see if I have any left over tests–just going to put my mind at ease. Ahhh! There is one. Cool.
Pee on stick (no internal dialogue here).
Watch stick (?&^%*$#@?&)
Gasp. Scream. Run to phone.
“You gotta talk me off the ledge” I yelled.
“What? Are you in a fight with your siblings?” Phil asked with alarm.
“NO,” I shouted. “Fia’s going to have a sibling. I’m pregnant!!”
“What? Seriously? Holy f-ck. Wow. Whoa. …(3-second silence)…Ya know, I like babies.” I grimaced.
“But you don’t have to carry one. And the beginning….”
I was already reliving those first few months when Fia kicked my ass. Lack of sleep and raging hormones turned me into the devil. Not to her—she had my entire heart–but she was the only one.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said. Then added calmly, “I think we’re pretty good at it actually.”
He had a point. We never wanted kids. We’d been married 10 years before we decided to roll the dice. And after those initial “suicide months,” we fell into parenthood like strawberries in chocolate fondue. Swallowed up and coated with a layer of life so delicious neither of us could believe it.
So on the night I peed on the stick, called my husband, and poured the rest of my wine down the sink, I began to embrace this next chapter. It’s a chapter I would have never had the courage—or energy– to write for myself. The universe made the decision for me (along with some recklessness on our part), and I’m going with it. I’ve always enjoyed a good game of blackjack–and have done quite well at times. Time to double down.
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advanced maternal age, AMA, brother, due date, new baby, ovaries, pregnancy, pregnant, sibling, siblings, sister, unexpectedly expecting | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama