23 Days Later

“All newborns do is eat, sleep, and poop.”  I’d heard this adage many times but didn’t really think much of it until I had a little eater, sleeper and pooper of my own.  Let me tell you, kids: it’s true.  And all three happen so frequently that the parents of said newborns are dealing with this eating, sleeping AND pooping every 2-3 hours.  But you know what?  It’s paradise.  Of course I am sleep-deprived and of course I have only done my hair and put on actual clothing four times in the past three weeks….but that is all well and wonderful because I haven’t had to go to work.  I may be singing a different tune when I’m up for three nighttime feedings and have an 8:00 conference call, but for now, I am so happy being a mom.  I’m trying not to think of what comes next and just enjoy this time at home with my boys.

So many hilarious, frightening and heart-wrenchingly cute moments have happened since Townes was born.  I’ve heard that this time passes so quickly and it’s so hard to remember what they were like when they were tiny, so I’ll try to recount some of our favorite bite-sized memories from these first weeks.

• Little grunter—Townes makes the sweetest little noises when he’s sleeping, or stirring from sleep. The best is his high-pitched little sigh with every exhale.  He sounds so content and so satisfied.  And on the other end of the cute spectrum are his grunts. The poor guy sounds like he’s trying to poop out something twice his size and works himself into such a frenzy. He grunts for 15 minutes at a time, and it’s so sad for mom and dad to listen to. They say that lots of babies grunt as they are learning to work their digestive systems, but come on! You are pooping out the equivalent (and lookalike) of two tablespoons of Inglehoffer stone ground mustard.  Take it easy, kid!

• Our baby genius--Townes spoke his first word at two weeks old! And do you know what it was?  “Carly.”  Of course.  We had high hopes for this kid, but he is really setting the bar high now.  At this rate, he will have his first PhD at age 7.  OK, OK I know he didn’t really say my name, it was probably a combination of a grunt and a hiccup but I swear to you (as Mason is my witness), it REALLY sounded like “Carly” and we laughed for a good 10 minutes.
• You are getting sleeeeeeeepy—He is one tired kid, I tell ya. I’ve been working hard at keeping him awake during and after feedings to help regulate his sleeping and waking cycles (this is supposedly going to help him sleep through the night sooner—we’ll see about that), but it is not an easy job.  Once you give this kid a boob, he falls asleep faster than you can say “lactation.”  The best pattern for him is 10 minutes of nursing on one side, then a rousing diaper change, followed by 10 minutes on the other side, but even then you have to hire a marching band to keep him mostly awake.  It might sound like borderline child abuse to you, but we’ve resorted to tickling his feet, rubbing his face with a wet washcloth, singing horrible songs like Smashmouth’s “All Star” to him, and blowing in his ears.  Please don’t call Child Protective Services on us.
• Baby burrito—Townes loves to be swaddled up and wrapped super-tight in his blanket.  He sleeps so much better when his hands are confined; it’s sort of like a super cute mini straight jacket.  We call him our baby burrito, and from time to time, you also must check to see if there are any beans in said burrito.  Mason sings hilarious and adorable songs to him while “burrito-ing him up" for the night.   The best burrito song without a doubt is “Baby Burrito” sung to the tune of Raffi’s “Baby Beluga.”  If you need a reminder of how that song goes, let our friends Danny and Stephanie Tanner remind you:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0rInDa39l8

• Reach for the sky—When he’s not burrito’d up, his favorite sleeping position is with his arms above his head, like he’s being robbed at gunpoint.

• Pee and poo fountains—We’d been warned about baby boys suddenly having the urge to pee right when the diaper comes off.  And despite advanced warnings, I was still so shocked when the first “pee fountain” erupted and sprayed the wall, the changing table, Townes’ face, Mason’s hair, etc.  After a few times, we learned how to combat the pee fountain, but the poo fountain was a different beast.  Mason was changing the diaper alone the first time old faithful erupted and all I heard was a “HOLY SH*%!” and then laughter coming from the nursery.  When he came out and I asked him what was so funny, he broke into song.  Picture this to the tune of Cat Stevens’ “Moonshadow”:  “I’m being followed by a poo fountain.  Poo fountain, poo fountain.” 
• Townes’ first prescription—The saddest thing ever is when your perfect little baby gets an imperfection: crusty eyes.  Clogged tear ducts happen to a lot of newborns, simply because the ducts are so tiny, and it causes this greenish-yellow goop/crust to form around their eyes.  The crust was pretty minimal the first couple of weeks, but then it suddenly got realllllly bad.  Hey kids! Want to freak your mom out? Simply wake up from a nap, and when your mom goes to wipe the crust off of your eyes, spring a giant green pus leak out of your right eye!  I seriously panicked.  We called the doctor and got some antibiotic ointment sent to the pharmacy. It would most likely clear up on its own, but hopefully this will help it clear up faster.  I’m really anti-pus.
• Surprise Kitty—If you haven’t seen this yet, you need to:

Townes does the same thing whenever he’s surprised, has a bad dream, gets a cold wipe to the nads, or we go over a bump in the stroller.  It’s adorable.  Almost as adorable as when the kitty does it.

• Lullabies won’t work on this kid—We’ve played a lot of private concerts for Townes and he really loves the music.  He just sits and listens to Dad play the guitar, totally wide-eyed and alert.  I thought I’d be really clever one night and sing him some songs to help him get to sleep while I rocked him.  I sang one, he was still awake, so I sang another, and another….and another.  Still awake.  I finally stopped singing and he fell right to sleep.  Moral of the story: lullabies will only keep this kid awake.
• Baby zits—These should be outlawed.  I know they are super common but they are even more disconcerting than grown-up zits (if that’s possible).  How dare my baby’s flawless complexion and super-smoothness be compromised!  The best remedy is to just leave them alone and they will heal themselves but it is very tempting to pop the teeny tiny whiteheads.  Alas, I have resisted and I will continue to resist.
• Stubborn tummy button—They say the umbilical cord stump should fall of between 7-10 days, but here we are at day 23 and that ugly thing is still there.  Patience.
• Visitors—Townes is like, so popular.  All the cool kids want to hang out with him.  We’ve been so lucky to have so many of our family and friends want to come gawk at his cuteness.  The best thing about having a newborn is that people come to you—you don’t hafta go nowhere.  He’s so used to excessive company that sometimes, he can’t even be bothered to open his eyes when guests arrive.  What a diva. 
• Outings—Townes’ very first outing was to the pediatrician’s office, but since then he’s been other illustrious destinations like: Mason’s parents’ house, my brother’s house, the grocery store, the AT&T store, the Saab shop, and Home Depot! He’s a little world traveler.  The most fun outing by far was downtown to Gallery Stroll.  Mason painted another wall/mural at Higher Ground Learning and had lots of art hanging, so we had to take Townes to see Dad’s show.  Of course.

• Grandpa Fetzer’s bassinet—When Mason was born, his Grandpa John Fetzer made him a bassinet.  Out of wood.  With his hands.  It’s stayed in the family since then, and we were lucky enough to be able to lend it to Townes for a few months.  The craftsmanship totally boggles my mind—it’s such a gorgeous piece.

• Mason is the hottest dad EVER—I don’t have to tell you ladies out there how attractive a man holding a baby is.  There’s just something so beautiful about it, and Mason is no exception. 

• I read MOM books now—Yep.  What a cliché.  I currently have 3 parenting/mom books on my nightstand, and all my online reading as of late has been of the same subject matter.  Hey, it just happens.  It will happen to you too.  Thankfully, I just got the September issues of both Vogue and W in the mail, so I have some sort of connection to the real world.
• Davis Blvd.—Ever since Townes turned a week old, we’ve been going on a walk every night.  He looks so cute in his little stroller and he really loves to be outside.  He never cries or fusses and most of the time (if we’re lucky), he’ll stay awake, which leads to better night sleep later on.  Bountiful is famous for its hilly neighborhoods and before and during pregnancy I LOVED to conquer the intense hills.  It’s such a great workout.  Alas, because I’m still healing from the great push of 2011, and the 45-degree hills are a little much for me, we’re staying on the mostly flat Davis Blvd.  For now.  But just you wait a couple of weeks, hills, and I’ll be back.  Be afraid, be very afraid.
• Froggy face—When Townes is hungry, he turns into a little froggy, trying to catch flies.  His adorable little mouth opens and shuts, and he sticks his tongue out repeatedly. So rather than even ask each other “do you think he’s hungry?” we just say, “is he making his froggy froggy face?”  We’ve tried to catch it on video, but haven’t been super successful yet.  In the meantime, here is a picture of him looking like a froggy after his bath.

• Those darn hiccups—He got the hiccups at least twice a day in utero, and nothing has changed in the outside world.  It breaks my heart to see his whole body convulse with each hiccup.  Sometimes he’ll let out a fart/poop when he hiccups.  These are called hiccupoops.
• Weight Watchers—He is killin’ it in the growth department.  Most newborns will be 7-8 ounces below their birth weight at four days old and Townes was only one ounce down.  Huzzah!  At his 1.5 week appointment he was up a whole pound (9 pounds) and an inch (22 inches).  I guess he’s figured out the whole eating scenario.  He already looks so different from when he was born, I can see his cheeks filling out and his little legs getting chubby. 
• Smiler—They say that babies don’t actually smile for social reasons (like being happy) until they are a couple of months old, but damn, our kid has an adorable smile.  Who cares why he’s doing it, I love seeing my little smiler, even if it is in his sleep or while he’s poopin’.  It just melts my heart.
• Facebooking in the middle of the night—I have Facebook on my phone and I’ll usually check it a few times a day while I’m out and about, waiting in line, etc.  However, I’ve now resorted to purposefully avoiding my News Feed like the plague allllllll day long, and saving that precious browsing for the 1:00 am and 4:00 am feedings.  It really helps the time go by faster and keeps me from falling asleep on the job. Don’t worry, I have at least six other feedings during the day in which to bond with him and stare at him endlessly while he eats.  I’m not a bad mom or anything.
• Skin to skin—I already wrote about those first few amazing minutes of Townes’ life when they laid him on my chest and we made eye contact.  Since then, letting him sleep on my chest is a guilty pleasure that I can’t get enough of.  There’s nothing in the world like feeling your baby’s breath on your skin while he sleeps.
• I’m more in love than ever…even though there is no love MAKING—If you didn’t already know about the love-making rules after you have a baby, let me enlighten you.  No coitus (my favorite word from "The Big Lebowski") for 5-6 weeks! Yes, WEEKS.  However, I’ve never been more in love with my husband of 8 years than I am right now.  I already mentioned how good-looking he is with a baby strapped to him, but it’s definitely more than that.  It’s the way he talks to Townes, the care he takes in holding and snuggling him,  the jokes he makes and songs he sings when he changes his diaper, and the way he’s jumped into fatherhood without looking back.  Until we start pumping and bottle feeding him, there isn’t much that Dad can do during the middle-of-the-night feedings, but Mason still insists that I wake him up at each feeding.  That way he can do the diaper change, get me more water or another spit up rag, change the laundry, or any of the other fun chores that come up in the pitch black.  I am so lucky to have a partner that wants to (and does) take part in every minute detail of our baby’s life.  I’m obviously hormonal and super cheesy right now, but I really can’t say enough about my man.  I thought I loved him when he was my husband. I had no idea how I’d feel when he was a father.  I gots me the best babydaddy there is.

...and then there were 3

So.  We have a child.  I gave birth. There is now a baby that lives in our house with us.  How did this happen?!?!?!  I mean, I know about the birds and the bees, I know HOW it happened, but seriously, how did this happen?!  It still seems slightly insane to me that we are now parents, even though I’ve had 10 months of warning signs and preparatory signals. You think I’d be used to the idea by now, but I’m really not.  I still catch myself about 9 times a day saying to Mason, “Do you get it?” I look over at our perfect little son and I say, “How is he so beautiful?”  and “Is he really ours?”  It’s bliss and lunacy. It’s miraculous and terrifying.  And now that our little bub is here, I wanted to take some time to write about his arrival into this mad world of ours.  I realize this is the longest post in Christendom, but come on, your firstborn son is only born once.  You'd better write all about it, or the details will get fuzzy.

I was due on Saturday July 30, but had a feeling that he would be late.  However, I was thinking maybe 2 or 3 days late…..mmmm notsomuch.  Monday morning came and I decided that I might as well keep working and save those precious days off, so my midwife wrote me a note to work from home until the big day arrived.  I kept working until our non-stress test (NST) on Tuesday afternoon.  Once you’re overdue, they like to monitor the bebe to make sure that he’s still thriving in the womb, and that the placenta is still doing its job.  We got to see him on an ultrasound (for the first time since the 20-week mark) and he passed his tests with FLYING colors.  So the good news was that he was still a happy camper at Lake Uterus, but the bad news was that he was so comfortable, he could be planning on staying there for at least another week.  We headed over to my mom’s pool to celebrate our little overachiever, to see aunts and cousins in town, and to let Mom float in the pool like a manatee or whale of some kind. 

I worked all day Wednesday and then had an appointment with my midwife to see if anything was shakin’ down under.  I was dilated to 2.5 and about 50% effaced…but sadly, no real signs that said “you will be going into labor tonight.”  She also commented that I had a “weird” cervix, which I found to be hilarious.  She said it felt dilated to a 3 in one area, but just over a 2 in another.  She actually had to draw us a picture when I asked her how dilated I was.  That’s always a good sign, right? When your healthcare professional resorts to doodling on a prescription pad to try to make sense of your mutant body?  Yeah, I thought so too.  She called up to LDS Hospital to see if they could schedule me to be induced on Friday; but I found out that I was at the bottom of a list of 10 others, so it most likely wouldn’t be until Monday.  In the meantime we had another NST scheduled for Friday morning, so we just kept twiddlin’ our thumbs and fondlin’ our laptops.

But that wasn’t all we were doing, no sir.  We read all the tall tales about how to jumpstart labor, but knew that truly, he was going to come whenever he decided to come and there wasn’t much that we could do about it.  Though, eating pineapple was a delicious diversion. Of all the suggestions online and in books, it seemed that only two of them were actually medically proven to have any effect whatsoever, and those were:  going for walks and having sex.  So you’d better believe that we were doing both on a daily basis, sometimes squeezing in two-a-days. 

Alas, the sun rose on Thursday morning and I was still great with child.  5 days overly great with child.  If I sound like I was complaining, I really wasn’t.  I was sooooo lucky to still be in such high spirits and feeling relatively normal.  I wasn’t deathly uncomfortable physically, but both Mason and I were pretty much going CRAZY with anticipation.  We were trying to enjoy our last few days of sleep and freedom, but when it came down to it, we really just wanted to meet our baby boy.  We worked side-by-side on Thursday and then decided to get Chinese for dinner.  Mason’s fortune cookie said “You are almost there.” Mine said, “It doesn’t take guts to quit.”  Hmmmm…

Friday morning, my alarm was set for 8:03 so that we could get to our NST by 9:45, but my phone rang at 7:45.  It was LDS, telling us that EVERYONE ahead of us on the list had already had their babies and that we were now at the top of the list to be induced.  Could we come in at 9:00?  HOLY CRAP BALLS.  After complaining all week that he was making us wait forever, we suddenly felt very unprepared.  We hurried and scurried to get ready, grabbed the hospital bag and sped to LDS .  They checked me into our labor and delivery room, I changed into my cute delivery gown and slippers (heaven forbid I wear the open-back tent and hideous blue ankle socks that were provided J), and by 10:00, we were ready to go. 

They hooked me up to the IV and started me on pitocin (to artificially start the contractions), an antibiotic, and some fluids for hydration.  I barfed within the first few minutes of having the IVs.  Yum! They also had two external monitors on my belly: one for little dude’s heartbeat and one to track the contractions.  With all those gadgets and gizmos tying me down, it was all I could do to have Mase and the nurse re-wire me every hour or so to get up and go pee.  I had sort of pictured labor to be a mobile time, where I could walk around and switch positions to deal with the contractions, but the IV and such pretty much had me lying flat in bed.  Luckily—my girl Tiff had leant me the box set of Sex and the City—all six seasons.  I have seen them all before, but having a distraction like that totally saved me from going cuckoo banana crackers during contractions.  Side note:  remember when you were younger and your mom would ALWAYS walk in the room right at the part of the movie that you didn’t want her to see?  The sex scene, the swearing portion, etc?  That was happening to us all day with Sex and the City, it was hilarious.  Samantha’s naked again?  Queue the nurse to come in and check on my IV….

After a few hours, my contractions weren’t as strong as they would’ve liked them to be, so they called my midwife to come up and break my water to get things rollin.  But before she broke my water, it was the perfect time to get an epidural if I wanted one.  Did I want one?  UM, YES.  Much love to those people who choose to give birth au naturale, but I’m not a masochist.  I’m not going to win a medal for doing it unmedicated.  So, I listened to my fortune cookie from the night before and found out that, in all actuality, it didn’t take any guts to quit.  Nope, none at all.  Mason said that watching me get the epidural was a bit scary, but it really wasn’t bad for me.  The first shot to numb you locally is the only thing you really feel.  I did hear a POP when the needle punctured the dural layer of my spine, and that was pretty cool if not a little frightening; but definitely not painful.  The numbing happened pretty quickly after that.  She broke my water with what looked like a plastic knitting needle. Then the contractions got super intense….or so the monitor said. I couldn’t feel a thing and it was superb!  All the discomfort I was feeling, all the pain, all the shifting of positions….all of that stopped and it was just quiet and wonderful.

Though I loathe even numbers and didn’t really want our little man to have an even-numbered birthday, August 6^th is a very important day.  As the clock hands passed midnight and his birthday changed from August 5^th to August 6^th, I shed a little tear because he’d be sharing his birthday with my dear, sweet little sister Mackenzie.  We never thought that he could possibly be a week late, but it suddenly seemed like it all happened on that timeline for a reason.  I pictured her with him up in heaven, holding on to his little hand for just a few more hours so that he could be born on her special day.  We told our nurse about Mackenzie and why we’d be OK with going past midnight and she started crying as well.  “Coincidentally,” she had a little sister who also passed away a few years ago, and she understood more than anyone else on staff at the hospital could have.  And she was our nurse, in the wee hours of a random Saturday morning.  J

We watched a few more episodes of SATC and the nurse came to check my dilation.  We were pretty much at a 10! Hooray! It was about 12:30 and she guessed that we’d be ready to start pushing around 1:30.  So the next hour gave him time to “rest and descend” and be alllll ready and in the ideal position for the big push.  Mason went out to the car to get some CDs so we could have some tunes instead of episodes.  I was feeling very tired and hungry after 15 hours of labor, but the news that the end was in sight really helped keep me calm and focused.   I never went through the phase where I yelled at Mason, told him not to touch me, or screamed, “YOU DID THIS TO ME!!!!” and I think the epidural was responsible for that.  He was amazing and supportive the entire time and we were happy, in love, and ready for what was coming next.

I made an awesome playlist on my iPod for delivery but the hospital only had a DVD player that played SOME CDs;  not burned CDs, mind you, which made up 90% of the CDs we had in the car.  The only real, non-burned CDs that we had were Snoop Dogg, Maylene and the Sons of Disaster, and two RX Bandits albums.  We thought it appropriate that RX would be the first music that he would hear when he came into this world; considering that they had been the last live band he’d heard in utero.  (I need to blog about that—I will.)  So we turned on “…And the Battle Begun” and waited for the battle to begin.  Around 2:00, the nurse came in and asked me to push just a little bit so she could see how close his head was, and if it was time to go wake my midwife.  I pushed just barely and she started yelling “OK, STOP PUSHING! His head is RIGHT there!”

Everyone got scrubbed up and in the right positions.  There was a mirror angled just so, so that I could see what was going on.  Mason was on my right side, holding my right leg, our nurse was holding my left leg, and my midwife was down in the bull pen.  We waited until we saw a contraction on the monitor (‘cause I was no help in telling when they were happening), and then the nurse guided me through the pushing.  It was a big inhale, pushing and holding my breath to the count of 10, and then exhaling. It’s pretty crazy not feeling ANYTHING below the waist and trying to control your muscles.  They had me do a crunch/sit-up during the count to 10 as well because that automatically contracts your abdominal muscles as well.  She had me do 3 sets of counting to 10, and then I rested until the next contraction.  After the first round, I felt like I couldn’t keep going.  And then I puked.  And then I felt lots better!  Ready for round 2.  Ding ding!

Round 2 was much more successful, and I saw his head crowning in the mirror.  He had hair!  This was awesome news because I was a totally bald baby.  Seeing his little head with hair on it gave me so much encouragement, so I kept on truckin.  Round 3 and 4 were more of the same, but round 5 got his fat little head out, and the rest of his body came out easily after that.  At 2:39 a.m. on August 6^th, our amazing and beautiful little boy was born.  The lights were off, except for a low spotlight down THERE for the midwife.  It was so quiet and so still in that little room at LDS Hospital.   I could see the sparkling lights of the Avenues from the window, all the way up to the University on the hill.  I loved that he was born in our city.  I expected some loud cries, but for the most part, our little love was quiet as well.  They laid him directly on my bare chest, covered in goo, and it was wondrous.  They were rubbing him with towels and blankets to get the vernix off, and to get the blood circulating to his beautiful skin.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was utterly speechless and bawling.  I definitely was crying more than he was.  Those few minutes right after his birth are kind of a blur, but I remember the nurses talking about his APGAR scores: 8 and then a 9 (way to go, kid!).  I was so distracted because I had the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, lying on my chest, staring directly into my eyes.  It was so powerful to lock eyes with that little being, yet it made me feel so small simultaneously.  Mason was leaning over my shoulder and I saw our baby’s gaze shift from me to his father—more tears.  He still really hadn’t even cried, he was just staring at us.  What an amazing and calm little soul.  Mason said he had my eyes.

My midwife started pulling on the umbilical cord and she said she felt like a magician pulling a scarf out of a hat—my cord was MILES long.  Weird.  Then it came time to deliver the placenta.  She told me not to push with all of my vim and vigor, because the thing would fly across the room and hit the window if I did. Come on, placenta humor, that’s FUNNY.  So I barely pushed and out it came.  It was fascinating to see the whole amniotic sac with the placenta inside.  My midwife held it up and showed us both sides—the side attached to me, and the side attached to the baby.  I’m sooooo glad I have a husband that’s not grossed out by all that stuff.  He was just as fascinated (if not more so) than I was and cut the cord like a champ when it was time.

They took him off of me to do some more suctioning from his airways, weigh and measure him, and put him on the warmer for a couple of minutes.  He was 8 pounds even (OK, I guess even numbers aren’t SO bad) and 21 inches long.  My midwife stitched me up (YOWZA) while Mason followed our little man around with the camera, and then they laid him back on my chest.  Right where he belonged.  At barely 10 minutes old, he found his way to my breast and started suckling.  I looked over at Mason in pure amazement and said, “How does he know how to do that???” I know the word “miracle” is so cliché, especially when referring to new little babies, but hey, clichés are cliché for a reason.  It was nothing short of a miracle—the whole process. 

Ever since we found out I was pregnant, I’d really only cared about two aesthetic characteristics on our little fetus: I wanted him to have Mason’s full lips, and Mason’s beautiful hands.  Lucky us—he got them both.  His fingers are long and beautiful and his rosebud lips are the sweetest things I ever did see.

My midwife gave me a big hug and called me “wonder woman” for only pushing for a half hour and we were ready to be transferred from the delivery room to our postpartum room.  LDS plays a little lullaby over the loud speakers throughout the whole hospital every time a new family is moved to their postpartum room, and we heard ours as they wheeled me down the hall.  Whew, big sigh of relief, we made it.  Once in our room, I fed him again, and we got situated for some much-needed sleep. 

In the morning, they asked us if we had decided on a name.  We talked it over, and we were finally ready to commit to the one we had been contemplating for over 2 years:  Townes August Fetzer.  Townes is for Townes Van Zandt, an amazing country folk singer that we both love.  August is Mason’s middle name, and it’s also his Grandpa Bob’s middle name.  Grandpa Bob had passed away 2 weeks prior, so that name carried all the more significance. 

Townes Van Zandt by Mason Fetzer (of course)

He is finally ours.  Our little Townes.  We love you, little dude.