miss you, chester.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
mourning glory
the baron, the husband, baby x, and the two big dogs have plans to travel to upstate new york later this week. the husband has made this trip many, many times; the baron just twice.
they'll be visiting the husband's members of nuclear and extended family, one of whom is very, very ill. this trip is will give baby x a too-brief opportunity to meet his kin, and the baron wishes the circumstances were better.
she's got no sense of humor about this; pithy is the best she can do.
they'll be visiting the husband's members of nuclear and extended family, one of whom is very, very ill. this trip is will give baby x a too-brief opportunity to meet his kin, and the baron wishes the circumstances were better.
she's got no sense of humor about this; pithy is the best she can do.
Friday, August 13, 2010
summertime reading
'you have given me a country', by neela vaswani, was released earlier this month. neela is a friend of the baron's, a good writer, a good woman, just good. also, she's not afraid to speak a thoughtfully placed curse word, so.
the baron has yet to purchase 'you have given me a country', but will soon (it's on her list of things to do this weekend).
read an excerpt here, and a bit about neela here. then maybe add the buying of 'you have given me a country' to your weekend list of things to do as well.
the baron has yet to purchase 'you have given me a country', but will soon (it's on her list of things to do this weekend).
read an excerpt here, and a bit about neela here. then maybe add the buying of 'you have given me a country' to your weekend list of things to do as well.
incomprehensible, uh, ramblings
reader, the baron was recently wondering why she hasn't written in so long. she wondered this while scraping curdles of her own breast milk from under her fingernails and realized, oh, right.
from her last post, which she titled 'part 1', the baron sincerely intended to flush out a series of 'parts', describing her first few weeks and first few experiences of parenthood. that, sadly, will not come to pass... because of, you know, the scraping of curdled milk from under her fingernails. also, because of the profound lack of rest. also, because she lately has a hard time laying her hands, so to speak, on the right words:
the baron: the husband, will you hand me that... uh, that... uh... ...
the husband: [expectant look on his face] yes?
the baron: that, uh...
the husband: come on, honey, use your people words.
usually, the baron is scraping around for food processor, burp cloth, spoon, water - you know, reader, really rarefied words. NOT. to say her mental acuity has taken a significant hit is to state the obvious, but it has and duh.
most days she's carried along by the gentle motion of repetition: feed baby x, burp baby x, play with baby x, baby x naps, watch 'the west wing' (josh and donna, can't you just admit you love each other?), feed baby x, burp baby x, and so on until the evening when the husband comes home and the day's tenor changes. the baron looks forward to 6 pm, when the husband gets home; he's much needed company, and a much needed reminder that she's not in it alone. also, he's a dab hand at pouring her a glass of wine, so. that makes a difference.
after baby x's bath and bottle (of which he gets two or three a day, after his bath and overnight, if he wakes up, and one for breakfast), the baron and the husband prepare their dinner and have conversation while doing so. reader, it might be the baron's favorite part of the day: a real conversation where the husband tells of a world outside babies and curdled breast milk, where anecdotes don't begin and end with the contents of a dirty diaper. he always listens intently - or mostly intently - to her rantings about the day, even if her stories are pretty much the same. see: paragraph above. at this point the husband usually reminds the baron to take a shower, because reader, sometimes she needs some reminding. having gotten the curdles out from under her fingernails and having simply taken off the peed-on pants seems like 'clean enough' to her. sometimes she needs reminding.
they end their day together, on the sofa, with dinner and whatever television is on, or something from netflix if it's come. they're working their way through 'the wire': dinner and 'the wire' is a good night for the baron. they're usually in bed by 9:30, and the baron typically falls right to sleep, unless she doesn't. sometimes she stays up listening to the baby, unable to sleep though wanting to so very badly. some nights she stays up wondering how stringer bell can be so handsome and so evil at the same time, or worrying about the fates of omar little and bubbles.
anyway. about those other parts, she had originally intended to write a series of posts on a series of themes, but reader? let's just shorthand this one, ok?
part 2. the baron loves capri sun, or, breast feeding makes the baron very, very thirsty.
part 3. seventh generation was the best option, or the baron and the husband looked around for other, more viable and earth-friendly option than standard diapers but didn't come up with much. though it bothers the baron that baby x is starting his life with a big gaping soul debt to the planet (hello, earth, sorry about all those diapers...), she couldn't find a better option than this.
part 4. diaper rash is a real threat, or, make sure baby x is very, very dry before closing up that fresh diaper, because dude. some body parts should never be that color red, if you catch the baron's drift.
part 5. contrary to her own beliefs, the baron can function on just a few hours sleep. for days and days and days.
part 6. 'the new yorker' comes just once per week, 'good omens' is kind of hard to hold with one hand, but 'the lorax' never gets old, or, the baron reads to baby x. a lot. baby x has a number of those cardboard books, the ones that are good for babies to chew on, but reader? the baron spends hours and hours per day entertaining baby x and is only able to read 'five little monkeys' and the like so many times before wanting to claw her eyes out; early on, she decided that it couldn't actually hurt to read more sophisticated fare out loud to him. courtesy of 'the new yorker' and 'harpers', baby x will be able to speak to you at length about the war in afghanistan and the current state of the economy.
part 7. counting to ten doesn't actually work. having the husband repeat the refrain 'i love you. stay calm.' does, or, the baron is short tempered. the baby tests her limits on a daily basis. parenthood offers no shortage of opportunities to FAIL. the baron is just trying to have more good days than bad.
part 8. the baron hated being pregnant: the morning sickness, the weight gain, the sore breasts, the shrinking wardrobe. the baron loves being a mother; it makes the morning sickness, the weight gain, the sore breasts, and the shrinking wardrobe totally worth it. or, this baby? kind of amazing. he's recently figured out how to roll over, has begun babbling and cooing, can reach for toys, and is interested in the world around him. he's a delight and everyone who meets him comes away with a smile.
it's very early in the morning now, and the baron is thinking about going back to bed. even though baby x is sleeping nearly 10 hours nightly, the baron isn't: she gets up every night around 1am, no matter what, to pump and refrigerate breast milk. she thinks of this early morning ritual as the penance she must pay for, you know, pregnancy and stay home parenthood, but oh wait.
more later, maybe.
from her last post, which she titled 'part 1', the baron sincerely intended to flush out a series of 'parts', describing her first few weeks and first few experiences of parenthood. that, sadly, will not come to pass... because of, you know, the scraping of curdled milk from under her fingernails. also, because of the profound lack of rest. also, because she lately has a hard time laying her hands, so to speak, on the right words:
the baron: the husband, will you hand me that... uh, that... uh... ...
the husband: [expectant look on his face] yes?
the baron: that, uh...
the husband: come on, honey, use your people words.
usually, the baron is scraping around for food processor, burp cloth, spoon, water - you know, reader, really rarefied words. NOT. to say her mental acuity has taken a significant hit is to state the obvious, but it has and duh.
most days she's carried along by the gentle motion of repetition: feed baby x, burp baby x, play with baby x, baby x naps, watch 'the west wing' (josh and donna, can't you just admit you love each other?), feed baby x, burp baby x, and so on until the evening when the husband comes home and the day's tenor changes. the baron looks forward to 6 pm, when the husband gets home; he's much needed company, and a much needed reminder that she's not in it alone. also, he's a dab hand at pouring her a glass of wine, so. that makes a difference.
after baby x's bath and bottle (of which he gets two or three a day, after his bath and overnight, if he wakes up, and one for breakfast), the baron and the husband prepare their dinner and have conversation while doing so. reader, it might be the baron's favorite part of the day: a real conversation where the husband tells of a world outside babies and curdled breast milk, where anecdotes don't begin and end with the contents of a dirty diaper. he always listens intently - or mostly intently - to her rantings about the day, even if her stories are pretty much the same. see: paragraph above. at this point the husband usually reminds the baron to take a shower, because reader, sometimes she needs some reminding. having gotten the curdles out from under her fingernails and having simply taken off the peed-on pants seems like 'clean enough' to her. sometimes she needs reminding.
they end their day together, on the sofa, with dinner and whatever television is on, or something from netflix if it's come. they're working their way through 'the wire': dinner and 'the wire' is a good night for the baron. they're usually in bed by 9:30, and the baron typically falls right to sleep, unless she doesn't. sometimes she stays up listening to the baby, unable to sleep though wanting to so very badly. some nights she stays up wondering how stringer bell can be so handsome and so evil at the same time, or worrying about the fates of omar little and bubbles.
anyway. about those other parts, she had originally intended to write a series of posts on a series of themes, but reader? let's just shorthand this one, ok?
part 2. the baron loves capri sun, or, breast feeding makes the baron very, very thirsty.
part 3. seventh generation was the best option, or the baron and the husband looked around for other, more viable and earth-friendly option than standard diapers but didn't come up with much. though it bothers the baron that baby x is starting his life with a big gaping soul debt to the planet (hello, earth, sorry about all those diapers...), she couldn't find a better option than this.
part 4. diaper rash is a real threat, or, make sure baby x is very, very dry before closing up that fresh diaper, because dude. some body parts should never be that color red, if you catch the baron's drift.
part 5. contrary to her own beliefs, the baron can function on just a few hours sleep. for days and days and days.
part 6. 'the new yorker' comes just once per week, 'good omens' is kind of hard to hold with one hand, but 'the lorax' never gets old, or, the baron reads to baby x. a lot. baby x has a number of those cardboard books, the ones that are good for babies to chew on, but reader? the baron spends hours and hours per day entertaining baby x and is only able to read 'five little monkeys' and the like so many times before wanting to claw her eyes out; early on, she decided that it couldn't actually hurt to read more sophisticated fare out loud to him. courtesy of 'the new yorker' and 'harpers', baby x will be able to speak to you at length about the war in afghanistan and the current state of the economy.
part 7. counting to ten doesn't actually work. having the husband repeat the refrain 'i love you. stay calm.' does, or, the baron is short tempered. the baby tests her limits on a daily basis. parenthood offers no shortage of opportunities to FAIL. the baron is just trying to have more good days than bad.
part 8. the baron hated being pregnant: the morning sickness, the weight gain, the sore breasts, the shrinking wardrobe. the baron loves being a mother; it makes the morning sickness, the weight gain, the sore breasts, and the shrinking wardrobe totally worth it. or, this baby? kind of amazing. he's recently figured out how to roll over, has begun babbling and cooing, can reach for toys, and is interested in the world around him. he's a delight and everyone who meets him comes away with a smile.
it's very early in the morning now, and the baron is thinking about going back to bed. even though baby x is sleeping nearly 10 hours nightly, the baron isn't: she gets up every night around 1am, no matter what, to pump and refrigerate breast milk. she thinks of this early morning ritual as the penance she must pay for, you know, pregnancy and stay home parenthood, but oh wait.
more later, maybe.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
parenthood: 1. getting there
the baron's cesarean section incision (and her insides too) are very nearly healed.
six weeks and two days ago, the baron and the husband went to the baron's obstetrician for her 39th week checkup. the doctor checked the baron's overall health, then checked her cervix for dilation and came up with a whopping 1/2 centimeter. the baron, at one week from her due date, was one-half inch dilated, suggesting that the baron's body was saying 'hello? not quite ready for this. let's wait a bit longer. just a bit.' baby x, conversely, was pushing down on her cervix, hard, the in-utero version of, 'hello world? i am ready to come out.'
the doctor suggested that labor be induced, that very afternoon. to this, the husband said (and reader, the incredulity was heavy, heavy in his voice), 'wait. you mean, we go to the hospital today and we get a baby tomorrow?' to this, the doctor said, 'yes.'
that afternoon found the baron and the husband making for the hospital. traffic was kind to them, and they arrived at the hospital just on 4:30 pm. by 6 pm, the baron was hospital gowned and waiting on the on-call doctor to begin her inducement.
inducement: it comes in two parts sometimes, as it did for the baron. she received prostaglandin gel at 9 pm, intended to, uh, ripen her cervix (thus making dilation more likely). in theory, this sounded like a great idea. in reality, the insertion of the gel caused baby x's heartbeat to decrease. in a really frightening way, the kind of way that made four nurses and a doctor rush into the baron's room. they laid their hands on the baron, pushing and pulling her this way and that, trying to find a good position for baby x, one that would alleviate pressure on him. they put oxygen tubes into her nose. the medical people held their breath and watched and waited, a collective whole, and the baron and the husband did too.
baby x recovered. the baron and the husband passed the evening awake but pretending to sleep, or trying to. reader, it was a very, very long night.
the baron was meant to take a room in the labor and delivery unit the following morning at 11 am when she would receive the second drug - pitocin, to dilate her cervix.
however. no bed was available in labor and delivery at 11 am. or at noon. or at 1 pm.
in fact, no bed became available until after 5 pm, which meant that the baron did not receive her pitocin as scheduled. which means, reader, that the baron's cervix stayed locked up tight, hovering at right around 1 centimeter. but reader? the gel, the one meant to soften? that gel started her contractions, gently at first, then not very gently at all.
so not-very-gently-at-all, reader, that by 5 pm (when she as finally moved into labor and delivery), the baron began courting the friendly nurses, chatting them up about the odds of her receiving an epidural post-haste.
near 6 pm, the baron was connected to the pitocin drip. it didn't go well. baby x's heartbeat slowed again. and recovered, again.
at 6:15 pm, the baron was introduced to the anesthesiologist, a lovely man bearing a lovely gift. the epidural was administered, but it didn't go well. baby x's heartbeat slowed for a third time. and recovered.
at 6:30 pm, the on-call doctor - the man who would be delivering baby x - entered the baron's room and examined the baby's heart rate monitor print out. he seemed perturbed and was quiet, and the baron and the husband were too. too much quiet coming off a doctor makes a person nervous.
doctor: how invested are you in the idea of a vaginal delivery?
the baron: uh.
the husband: uh. can you talk us through the benefits of one over the other?
doctor: your baby's heart rate has dropped three times since you've been here. when he passes through the birth canal, because of the strength of the contractions, we'll expect his heart rate to drop again - that's natural - but for your baby, given these three incidents, i say why not just go with a c-section and remove the risk of his heart rate decreasing for a fourth time? also to consider, if we begin the vaginal delivery and his heart rate drops too precipitously, we may end up having to do an emergency c-section anyway.
the baron and the husband took the doctor's advice. it was 6:45 pm.
by 7 pm, the husband was being outfitted in too-large-for-him blue scrubs, and the baron was being shaved. she had long since shed her vanity.
by 7:15 pm the baron was being wheeled into an operating room.
at 7:20 pm, the husband was allowed to join her, taking a seat near her head. their view of the baron's nether region was blocked by a blue sheet.
at 7:25 pm, the baron - totally, totally devoid of feeling from the ribcage down - was being mined for baby x.
at 7:44 pm, baby x was born.
at 7:44 pm, the husband leaned over the baron's face and kissed her forehead. he whispered words into her ear, and the baron's insides swelled with emotion bordering on ecstasy. reader. the baron and the husband made a baby. he was born, scooped out, and with him came more love and light than words here can convey.
at 7:45 pm, one of the nurses charged with cleaning baby x gasped, 'oh my god, is that red hair?!'
by 10 pm, the baron, the husband, and baby x were back in the labor and delivery room, waiting for transport to the recovery floor.
below, how the baron and the husband kept themselves occupied during their 5 day stay.
six weeks and two days ago, the baron and the husband went to the baron's obstetrician for her 39th week checkup. the doctor checked the baron's overall health, then checked her cervix for dilation and came up with a whopping 1/2 centimeter. the baron, at one week from her due date, was one-half inch dilated, suggesting that the baron's body was saying 'hello? not quite ready for this. let's wait a bit longer. just a bit.' baby x, conversely, was pushing down on her cervix, hard, the in-utero version of, 'hello world? i am ready to come out.'
the doctor suggested that labor be induced, that very afternoon. to this, the husband said (and reader, the incredulity was heavy, heavy in his voice), 'wait. you mean, we go to the hospital today and we get a baby tomorrow?' to this, the doctor said, 'yes.'
that afternoon found the baron and the husband making for the hospital. traffic was kind to them, and they arrived at the hospital just on 4:30 pm. by 6 pm, the baron was hospital gowned and waiting on the on-call doctor to begin her inducement.
inducement: it comes in two parts sometimes, as it did for the baron. she received prostaglandin gel at 9 pm, intended to, uh, ripen her cervix (thus making dilation more likely). in theory, this sounded like a great idea. in reality, the insertion of the gel caused baby x's heartbeat to decrease. in a really frightening way, the kind of way that made four nurses and a doctor rush into the baron's room. they laid their hands on the baron, pushing and pulling her this way and that, trying to find a good position for baby x, one that would alleviate pressure on him. they put oxygen tubes into her nose. the medical people held their breath and watched and waited, a collective whole, and the baron and the husband did too.
baby x recovered. the baron and the husband passed the evening awake but pretending to sleep, or trying to. reader, it was a very, very long night.
the baron was meant to take a room in the labor and delivery unit the following morning at 11 am when she would receive the second drug - pitocin, to dilate her cervix.
however. no bed was available in labor and delivery at 11 am. or at noon. or at 1 pm.
in fact, no bed became available until after 5 pm, which meant that the baron did not receive her pitocin as scheduled. which means, reader, that the baron's cervix stayed locked up tight, hovering at right around 1 centimeter. but reader? the gel, the one meant to soften? that gel started her contractions, gently at first, then not very gently at all.
so not-very-gently-at-all, reader, that by 5 pm (when she as finally moved into labor and delivery), the baron began courting the friendly nurses, chatting them up about the odds of her receiving an epidural post-haste.
near 6 pm, the baron was connected to the pitocin drip. it didn't go well. baby x's heartbeat slowed again. and recovered, again.
at 6:15 pm, the baron was introduced to the anesthesiologist, a lovely man bearing a lovely gift. the epidural was administered, but it didn't go well. baby x's heartbeat slowed for a third time. and recovered.
at 6:30 pm, the on-call doctor - the man who would be delivering baby x - entered the baron's room and examined the baby's heart rate monitor print out. he seemed perturbed and was quiet, and the baron and the husband were too. too much quiet coming off a doctor makes a person nervous.
doctor: how invested are you in the idea of a vaginal delivery?
the baron: uh.
the husband: uh. can you talk us through the benefits of one over the other?
doctor: your baby's heart rate has dropped three times since you've been here. when he passes through the birth canal, because of the strength of the contractions, we'll expect his heart rate to drop again - that's natural - but for your baby, given these three incidents, i say why not just go with a c-section and remove the risk of his heart rate decreasing for a fourth time? also to consider, if we begin the vaginal delivery and his heart rate drops too precipitously, we may end up having to do an emergency c-section anyway.
the baron and the husband took the doctor's advice. it was 6:45 pm.
by 7 pm, the husband was being outfitted in too-large-for-him blue scrubs, and the baron was being shaved. she had long since shed her vanity.
by 7:15 pm the baron was being wheeled into an operating room.
at 7:20 pm, the husband was allowed to join her, taking a seat near her head. their view of the baron's nether region was blocked by a blue sheet.
at 7:25 pm, the baron - totally, totally devoid of feeling from the ribcage down - was being mined for baby x.
at 7:44 pm, baby x was born.
at 7:44 pm, the husband leaned over the baron's face and kissed her forehead. he whispered words into her ear, and the baron's insides swelled with emotion bordering on ecstasy. reader. the baron and the husband made a baby. he was born, scooped out, and with him came more love and light than words here can convey.
at 7:45 pm, one of the nurses charged with cleaning baby x gasped, 'oh my god, is that red hair?!'
by 10 pm, the baron, the husband, and baby x were back in the labor and delivery room, waiting for transport to the recovery floor.
below, how the baron and the husband kept themselves occupied during their 5 day stay.
Friday, March 19, 2010
it's been a long time, reader
reader, the baron is pregnant. still. she's about three and a half weeks out from her due date, though really? isn't that due date just a best guess? so at this point the baron is pretty much on tenterhooks trying to listen to her body's every tic and sigh. as in, 'hm. is that the baby kicking or the start of labor?' it's kind of distracting, actually.
her behavior - this constant self-monitoring on the lookout for labor - is not a recent development -she's pretty much been obsessively listening to her body for the past nine months... thus, she has no real, good excuse for her prolonged absence these last few months. where has she been? the answer to *that* question is, she's been nowhere. let's chalk the silence up to job stress and nesting distractions, how's that?
so.
three and a half weeks out. this home stretch is taking forever, in the baron's opinion! she's very much feeling her weight now, as well as every little shift the baby makes. she's tired all the time, and wanting to sleep all the time (these developments having come on in the last week or so)... but has a hard time sleeping for anything beyond three hours before having to pee again. and the pee? can still be measured in teaspoons. her blood pressure is elevated, and she's having nausea again, as well as wicked, wicked indigestion. though she knows it's best for everyone if he makes it as close to 40 weeks as possible, the baron is kind of ready to expel baby x post-haste. well, ready except for the lactation specialist she and the husband have yet to find. ready except for the pediatrician they have yet to interview. ready except for the hospital bag that languishes on the bedroom floor in anticipation of ALL THE THINGS YET TO PACK INTO IT.
so. mostly ready.
however, things aren't entirely bad for the baron. spring is very nearly upon her, and the last week was gorgeous beyond the telling of it. she and the husband had a baby shower, thrown for them by very good friends, and baby x is ready for his converse closeup. and that last photo? that's a cheesecake with apricot glaze and strawberries. baby x, see all the wonderful things waiting for you?
harlan in repose.
baby shower courtesy of gina, kathy, and kevin.
itty bitty converse courtesy of lady x.
cheesecake by the baron.
her behavior - this constant self-monitoring on the lookout for labor - is not a recent development -she's pretty much been obsessively listening to her body for the past nine months... thus, she has no real, good excuse for her prolonged absence these last few months. where has she been? the answer to *that* question is, she's been nowhere. let's chalk the silence up to job stress and nesting distractions, how's that?
so.
three and a half weeks out. this home stretch is taking forever, in the baron's opinion! she's very much feeling her weight now, as well as every little shift the baby makes. she's tired all the time, and wanting to sleep all the time (these developments having come on in the last week or so)... but has a hard time sleeping for anything beyond three hours before having to pee again. and the pee? can still be measured in teaspoons. her blood pressure is elevated, and she's having nausea again, as well as wicked, wicked indigestion. though she knows it's best for everyone if he makes it as close to 40 weeks as possible, the baron is kind of ready to expel baby x post-haste. well, ready except for the lactation specialist she and the husband have yet to find. ready except for the pediatrician they have yet to interview. ready except for the hospital bag that languishes on the bedroom floor in anticipation of ALL THE THINGS YET TO PACK INTO IT.
so. mostly ready.
however, things aren't entirely bad for the baron. spring is very nearly upon her, and the last week was gorgeous beyond the telling of it. she and the husband had a baby shower, thrown for them by very good friends, and baby x is ready for his converse closeup. and that last photo? that's a cheesecake with apricot glaze and strawberries. baby x, see all the wonderful things waiting for you?
harlan in repose.
baby shower courtesy of gina, kathy, and kevin.
itty bitty converse courtesy of lady x.
cheesecake by the baron.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
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