dear baby x,
this week your father had an unfortunate experience with some men with whom he had been professionally friendly. the men and your father parted ways, initiated by the men, but the situation was badly handled: common decency wasn't afford your dad. it's a shame, because some of these men have children, and i worry about the message being sent to them. integrity and courage are important, in big ways, yes, but also in small ways: everyday, common acts of kindness. perhaps it was time for your father to say goodbye; new plans abound, and he's already moved on.
baby x, we hope many good things for you: success and happiness, health and wisdom acquired in youth. we also hope that you'll walk tall, and know from an early age that the hard thing and right thing are sometimes the same thing, and that there's no shame in struggling to reconcile that fact. the shame comes when we recognize that the hard thing and the right thing are the same, yet choose instead a path of least resistance. in short, we should be ashamed when we act the coward.
i want you to know that, in spite of the sober tone i've taken, not every situation will be a challenge. fortunately, oftentimes, the right thing and the easy thing are the same thing. these are moments that you should recognize, that we will help you recognize, so that you may be more prepared and comfortable to make the hard choices that will inevitably be presented to you.
your father spent a good part of his childhood, and a good part of his adulthood, with his fist in the air, so to speak, raised in defiance. i want you to know that he has never been averse to a challenge, even when the odds were very, very clearly stacked against him. i also want you to learn from his example, and to know that while things are often shades of grey, they are also often black and white: if your father and i do our job right, the best thing to do and the right thing to do will always be clear to you.
love,
the baron
Monday, September 27, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
barney doesn't live here
early in her pregnancy the baron and the husband decided that no "children's music" would darken their doorstep: no barney, no dora the explorer, no mickey mouse... you get the picture, reader, right? their only concession to baby x's age and need for soothing sounds are a series of cds called rockabye baby, which re-imagine popular songs as lullabies. they've got the beach boys, coldplay, u2, and the beatles, all retooled enough to keep baby x sleeping, but still highly and easily recognizable as music the baron and the husband actually like.
baby x and the baron share their first nursing session of the day with the amelie soundtrack, scored by yann tiersen. (they used to start the day with simon and garfunkel, until one morning when the husband happened upon them listening to 'bridge over troubled water' and suggested it was kind of heavy for the baby). lately, before his bath time and dinner time, baby x is danced around the living room by his father to 'everyday people' by sly & the family stone. sometimes it's led zepplin, and once it was the cars... but no one wanted a repeat of ric ocasek. baby x's days are filled with a playlist the baron and the husband built for baby x, containing the likes of phoenix, the rolling stones, vampire weekend, rem, the killers, the beatles, u2, coldplay, and one song by cat stevens (you can guess which one, reader, can't you?).
their house will likely, eventually, see more conventional children's music, especially once baby x gets out and about into the world. until then, though, the baron and the husband are liking their chance to shape his musical tastes. fingers crossed that what they teach him now will stick.
baby x and the baron share their first nursing session of the day with the amelie soundtrack, scored by yann tiersen. (they used to start the day with simon and garfunkel, until one morning when the husband happened upon them listening to 'bridge over troubled water' and suggested it was kind of heavy for the baby). lately, before his bath time and dinner time, baby x is danced around the living room by his father to 'everyday people' by sly & the family stone. sometimes it's led zepplin, and once it was the cars... but no one wanted a repeat of ric ocasek. baby x's days are filled with a playlist the baron and the husband built for baby x, containing the likes of phoenix, the rolling stones, vampire weekend, rem, the killers, the beatles, u2, coldplay, and one song by cat stevens (you can guess which one, reader, can't you?).
their house will likely, eventually, see more conventional children's music, especially once baby x gets out and about into the world. until then, though, the baron and the husband are liking their chance to shape his musical tastes. fingers crossed that what they teach him now will stick.
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.
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