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Posts Tagged ‘baby’

I cut Saralyn’s hair this afternoon.  When she has so little hair, it seems silly to cut any of it, but she was looking scraggly.  Saralyn has a PRONOUNCED widow’s peak.   In fact, it’s giving diction lessons to Tom Brokaw.  Strangely, she can grow hair there, and over her ears, but almost nowhere else.  I trimmed up the long bits and, uslessly, tugged on the short bits.  When I was done, I had a tiny tuft of clippings that was smaller than a cheap cotton ball.  A tiny amount of hair.  But it makes a great difference.

Tony came home from work just as I was finishing up.  I was combing the child’s hair out and Tony scoffed at my need for a comb.  Saralyn just looks like a little boy most of the time.  She needs some hair.  At least I don’t have to hold her down to wrestle out the tangles like I do with Eleanor.  Oh well, win some loose some.

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The Britches of Saralyn County

Saralyn has revealed her silly baby trick: she can take her pants off while swaddled.

If you don’t know how to swaddle a baby, imagine making a blanket burrito with the baby as the meaty filling.  The key to a good and useful swaddle is making sure the baby is tucked up in such a way at to keep the limbs from flapping around.  The baby is warm, tight and secure.

So, color me so surprised to find that Saralyn can get her pants OFF while swaddled.  I think it has to do with her bottom, or lack there of.  She has a condition sometimes referred to as noassatall, and symptoms include sagging britches, and losing coins out of one’s pockets.  Yep, a total lack of caboose.

It’s like when you want to go to bed in the sweatshirt you are wearing, but don’t want to undress and remove your bra and then redress.  So you pull one arm in to your top, wiggle around, think a magic thought and the pull the bra out of the other sleeve.  THAT’s simple enough to do and understand, but, Saralyn does it with her pants.  And she’s 4 days old.  Wow.

Her diapers, however, are still cooperating within the swaddles.  Perhaps the diapers stay put, while the pant migrate, because Saralyn makes her own Gorilla Glue to keep ’em stuck solid.

Nevertheless, it’s now the running joke: Are her pants off or on? Unwrap and see.

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Even more…

Well – That’s an hour of my life I will never get back.  At least I can say the hospital paperwork is done for now.  I bet if you took all of the paperwork that goes with having a kid at this hospital and started making paper origami cranes, you’d be up to your neck in duck sauce in short order.  How ever did women manage to have babies before the insurance age?

That was the bulk of our visit today.  The truly important stuff came in the last 10 minutes when meeting with the anesthesiologist.  He did make a big point of promising that there would be an anesthesiologist, and not an anesthetist, performing my epidural tomorrow.  Big difference, or so I am led to believe by the doctors reassuring head nod.  Perhaps I’ll look that up some day.  I assume that one is an MD, and the other is less credentialed.  It doesn’t matter much to me, just so long as SOMEONE with a big needle full of painkiller shows up. 

Nevertheless, he went over my medical history and gave me my marching orders:

  • No food or water after midnight.
  • Be at the Women’s center at 7am.
  • They’ll spend some time put a line in my arm, where they will pump me full of fluids.
  • I’ll be given several pills and potions  that will keep me fat, dumb and happy from barfing and passing out when it’s time for the epidural (when you are all numb and stuff, your blood pressure drops and you get some nausea and so on).

He also warned me that I would not be able to cough effectively.  As you may know, an epidural numbs one from the chest down.  But what I learned today was that the only reason you can still breath is because the nerves that run your diaphragm come off your neck, not out of your chest.  The doc said that about 85% of breathing is diaphragm driven.  Coughing, however, requires more help from the other muscles of the ribs and abdomen,  which won’t work so good for me tomorrow.  Good to know.  Perhaps I should have asked him what to do if I can’t breath due to gloppage…

After that, there was the drawing of much blood and a see you tomorrow.

I guess we are ready.  I hope we are.  I’m a bit nervous still.  A friend said to me today, “The second time is scarier, ’cause you didn’t know what to expect the first time.”  He’s right, in a way.  But this really seems like a first time, as it is all soooooo different from last time.  It’s the second first time again.  How do I score that?

BTW, I’m feeling a bit better with the cold today, thanks for asking.  I think a few more days of easy rest and soup will set me right as rain.  Oh, wait.

More tomorrow.  I guess we are taking the laptop to the hospital with us.  I may even blog tomorrow night!  Thanks for all the good wishes and prayers. 

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Hair

I’m having a baby. Soon. Two weeks from today in fact.

Last time, things went great, till the very end, then there was a complete lack of amniotic fluid just past my due date, then 4 days of labor and a c-section. In case you can’t guess, it sucked out loud. I don’t recommend it.

So, to allay my fears, the great midwives who are taking care of me gave me an ultrasound today to check my fluid levels (sort of like my Honda – after all there was a dipstick of sorts). In short, all is well. The nurse says I have great pockets of fluid, and that was really all we wanted to find out from today’s ultrasound sneaky peak.

When things are going well with the baby, the tech wants to be chatty and share. (When the news is not great, however, the wandslinger is always tight lipped. There’s nothing like being astride the stirrups, and knowing from the look on the face of your technician that your cycle is not going well, no joy this month, that will be $400 please… But I digress back down a maddening path from the past.) Today, the nurse pointed out the usual: baby knees are here, back is here, that’s some practice breathing there and the heart’s all a flutter down this way, and, see this, there’s a lot of hair.

Hair?

Wow… Hair!

Not to be dumb or anything, but I was so surprised by HAIR. Eleanor was born with a fine head of hair, so it didn’t seem unreasonable that the new baby might just ALSO have hair. But. I hate to say I hadn’t given it much thought. I’ve been almost NOT thinking about this baby’s features. Tony and I blue skied a lot about how Eleanor would turn out when we were pregnant the first time; His nose and her ears? Heaven forbid! Her nose and his ears, ah, now that is a better combo – less aardvarkish at least.

I feel kind of guilty that I haven’t spent much time daydreaming about meeting this second child. The thought that she will be born with hair comes as a shock, and now my curiosity is all bubbling to the surface. Will she look like Elly? Will she look like that afore mentioned aardvark? She’s becoming so real now, I just can’t wait to meet her.

So, the ultrasound technology tells me that the little person I will greet in just two weeks will possess girl parts and hair. It seems like so much to know before the baby actualy is born, but also such the tip of the iceberg. Some would say I have spoiled the last great mystery about life by knowing the gender of the baby before it is born, but I think there’s a million other little mysteries for which we will have to await resolution: Will she like raisins? What side of the bed will she want to sleep on? Can she sing? Cats or dogs? Beatles or Rolling Stones? Ketchup or mustard? Coke or “get out of my house with at high fructose corn syrup nasty!”?

I know so little. And I have a lot of learning to do. Again.

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