I get by with a little help from my Zens...

6 Weeks

Five New Born Tips

1. Mozart calms babies and your household. Seriously, it works. When you play it, there is a reason it sounds familiar. (Thank you, Greg.)

2. If you ever doubted the swaddle sleeping technique and decide to let your baby go 'arms free' for a week—slap yourself. This woman who graciously shared her adaptation with the Internet should be sainted. (Thank you, Greg.)

3. Baby Wise feed/sleep schedule. It works. You won't realize it until Week 6 but the first time your little one sleeps in the crib for two hours in the middle of the day you will cry with joy and wander the living room wondering why your wrists feel loose. (Thank you drunk lady who told Greg.)

4. Stop freaking out your baby by pulling poopy onesies up over his head. The collar is designed to be pulled down. Yup. Not just a trend started in prison. Check it out. (Thank you Aunt Brittini and Facebook.)

5. Rake leaves. If you don't have a rake or leaves—find them. Go to Home Depot and hit Central Park. Return the rake after an hour. I don't mean 'get exercise' or 'go outside'. It has to be just that. Raking leaves. Do it for an hour and you'll love your self, your partner, and your new kid all over again. You'll see what I mean. (Thank you trees.)

Chiaroscuro

5 Weeks

Here's to future new moms. I wish you lots of luck, love, sleep, patience, good health, friendships, plentiful breast milk, uncomplicated deliveries, happy babies, generous family, and compassionate partners.

Know this:

YOU WILL SURVIVE WEEK FIVE

after...

...picking a fight with your mother.

...obsessing that you are going to be fired when you return to work.

...dealing with a new, unsuccessful afternoon of feeding you will start to worry. You will take baby's temperature, you will sing to him, dance for him, you will take your own temperature. You will Google symptoms and discover disturbing poop color meanings. You will realize it's too late to call the doctor. You will spend your precious and rare sleep time that evening wondering if it was Ebola, something you ate, accidentally rubbed on your body, washed with, or spontaneously oozed. You will spend every feeding after coaching your baby for the Milk Olympics. He will finally eat. He will EAT! All will be well! He will then spit everything up.

...finishing a half eaten apple you found in the living room, you chuckle to yourself recalling having started it the day before. Then you will remember that wasn't you.

...peeing on your own hand while attempting to balance your new born undisturbed, suckling a boob. You will have rolled out of bed at 2:30a and immediately attached him before realizing you should have gone to the bathroom first.

...figuring out how to sanitize one hand with one hand.

...picking a fight with a phone solicitor. 

...obsessing that your friends don't like you anymore.

...realizing you have not eaten a vegetable in three days.

...finally handing your baby to your partner for a few minutes so you can take care of things requiring two limbs, you will look at pictures of your baby on your phone.

...picking a fight with your hairbrush.

...shaving your own ankles for the first time in months you will cut yourself and laugh in a way that troubles you somewhere deep inside.

...cursing at the dog for misunderstanding your joke.

...beginning a sleepy sentence that enlists your partner to change a nighttime diaper, you will choke on the word "help" and repeatedly sob-slobber that word over and over again...

Here's to all mothers and their mothers. Especially single mothers. You ladies deserve a genie in a bottle for every day. And here's to remembering that it's OK to have a hard time. Enjoy the hard times. They're good too. You can't have the light without the [cue: blood-curdling, screaming infant].

What's a Little Air Guitar Between Friends?

4 Weeks

4 Weeks, 6 Days

4 Weeks, 6.5 Days

"Well look at that. He really likes his mother." A sweet, elderly gentleman leaves his cart and place in line to aim his bent over stature towards the thing to which I'm cooing. He's disheveled in a wrinkled, tan overcoat, but not in an alarming way—in an, I-have-bad-arthritis-this-is-the-best-I'm-ever-going-to-look-unless-someone-can-reach-my-hair-for-me, kind of way. He has a slight odor and catches his own drool after he speaks. It is not lost on me how a life is beginning and a life is ending all on line at Target's customer service counter.

I return yet another diaper rash cream that does not work and Ren starts to fuss. It's his first time under super-center fluorescent lights. His first ride in a grocery basket. His first errand with just his mom. We both cried a little when we got out of the car and back in it. I'm still not sure how I spent $75 on Purell.

The demographic of the typical Target shopper mid-day, mid-week takes place at each end of the life-spectrum. New moms and old fathers plus a few Robert Smith-a-like teenagers bleeding in from the mall. The perfect sampling of middle-American life on the grid.

"He's a MONSTER!" Ren's doctor tells us after he explains that Ren's weight (11lbs 1oz) is in the 80% and his height (23.75") is literally off the charts. So far, Ren likes to eat and Ren likes to grow. This week was full of milestones for our little guy: he turned one month old; he slept for five hours straight three nights in a row; he moved out of newborn diapers and into fantastic rock 'n roll seconds from his West coast friend, Mick; he went with mom on an adventure to the store and...

Ren.

Smiled.

I can die now. Except I'd like to be around to watch him do that for the next 100 years or so...

Perfect Day

3 Weeks

It's 3:11p on a Monday afternoon in our new house. Greg is at work, Ren is napping, and I am sitting in our sun-filled living room, typing, as the mail woman drives on after leaving something in our box. Just a few weeks ago, the leaves were just starting to turn and Mondays were still the start of the work week. I couldn't wait to meet Ren and for our new threesome to start a new chapter in our new home. I don't

It's 7:36p on the same day. Amazing how impossible it is to finish anything in one sitting let alone a thought. My days are filled with feeding, changing, and staring at Ren. When I have a moment to myself, I unpack a box for 60 seconds, check on Ren for 30, take a sip of water, check on Ren, unpack, Ren, water, take a picture of Ren, box, eat, Ren, sit, Ren, sit, box, Ren, sit, Ren wakes up and needs

It's 10:07p and Greg is singing Ren back to sleep. I am nodding off as I type. I think my point—the point I was planning to get to when I started this today—I have these flashes of pure joy that I can't define. I step outside of my life and look around and am overwhelmed with gratitude. I've had some pretty amazing experiences since I've been collecting memories, but it's a moment in the sun on a beautiful fall day with my little family that I will carry in my heart as

Lucky Charms

2 Weeks

"Morning."

"Morning."

"Where is the cheese grater?"

"You... you can't... if you ask me again where something is... just don't ask me where anything is. I... cannot... tell you where anything... is..."

[Gulp.] "...sorry..."

Less than a week ago we moved our amazing new threesome into our amazing new house with the help of amazing family and friends. Life has been a pretty wild ride these past few weeks. We are so grateful to have a healthy child and such loving, generous people around us. It's truly taken the village to get us this far. Ren's Gigi and Papa-son have to win some sort of grandparent award for the packing and unpacking they did for us while I recuperated. Greg has juggled work around doctor's appointments and new-house errands. Returning a cable box seems so unimportant when you're told your 10 day old kid needs the frenulum under his tongue snipped. A very small procedure, but hearing the words, "few drops of blood" makes your heart turn inside out.

Ren is exactly two weeks and two days old today and now that our new normal is creeping in, we are juggling how to set up our daily life. Not easy when a new born is in charge. Last night was our first all-night-crying-baby and last night was our first night on our own. No nurses or doctors, no grandparents, no one but us and our lack of sleep. We've done all the reading about those moments: let them cry... don't let them cry... feed them... don't... pacifier... not... over tired? Hungry? Gas pains? Colic? Growth spurt? They give babies whiskey in Ireland, right? I'm a quarter Irish...

Today, Ren has slept most of the day. It's the only reason I have had time to open my laptop and think about anything other than the color of the inside of his diaper. He still needs a boob or two every couple of hours (who doesn't?) but I've actually had time to go to the bathroom and put food in my mouth. Maybe there's a leprechaun around here with a tiny, little flask...

Instructions for Dancing

1 Week

Friday, October 3rd

10:30a - Doctor visit and sonogram. Induction is scheduled for Sunday, October 5th. They don't want us to go past week 41.

12:00p - Phone call from midwife. Amniotic fluid is too low. Go to the hospital tonight at 5p to induce. Bring luggage. Wait five long hours.

5:00p - Arrive at the Neugarten Family Birth Center. Unpack. Eat dinner. Greg and I stare at each other in preparation for the unknown.

8:00p - Doc starts first stage. Cervidil. "This will soften your cervix. Get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow we will start the induction. Some patients begin contractions with this and go into labor but it's rare. This process can take up to three days."

9:00p - Labor begins—we are rare. The midwife checks me and my water breaks. We watch movies. Waiting for Guffman and Blade Runner. Greg tries to sleep. I'm up all night with a contraction about every 9-10 minutes and post-apocalyptic visions in between. 

Saturday, October 4th

1:30a - My water gushes and there is meconium present. Ren's swimming in his own poop.

9:00a - My cervix has dilated 3-4cm. They start a Pitocin drip to escalate contractions. Those come and go every 2-3 minutes. Ren's heart rate shows signs of trouble.

5:30p - I scream and cry for an epidural. It is cheered due to lack of sleep, length of labor, small increase in dilation, and Ren's distress. I dilate to 7cm and continue to have sharp contractions on one side. Either Ren's head is caught on my pelvis or the epidural missed a spot.

8:00p - I am fully dilated and told to push. I do. Greg helps. He is AMAZING. He is my hero, my guru, my everything. Ren's head rears and disappears with every grunt. He's at an angle and having difficulty advancing.

9:30p - Ren's heart rate rockets and plummets. The doctor calls an emergency Cesarian. We are whisked off to the OR before we can blink. Unfortunately, I am able to feel much of the surgery as the anesthesia has not taken effect. I yell out with the first cut.

9:53p - I hear Ren's cry. Every uncomfortable moment of pregnancy and labor dissolve into pure joy and gratitude. I pass out.

I wake to being stitched and forget why I'm there. I babble mindlessly, answering questions I've been asked and exclaim, "Wait! I had a baby!!!" I'm told Greg is with Ren and once Ren is clean and I am sewn we will all be together again. Minutes later we are. Ren latches on to my breast immediately. Greg and Ren and I are the only three people in the world. Magic.

Ren Thomas Skura

3 Days

Arrived:

October 4, 2014 at 9:53pm

8lbs, 10oz, 21in

His parents are filled with absolute bliss, incomprehensible love, and gratitude.