Go Patriots

I wondered aloud a couple weeks ago if Webber would like football, and specifically the Patriots.


Stupid Mom. "OF COURSE HE WILL!" Nate told me, wild with disbelief that I would suggest such a crazy notion.

No choice kid, no choice.
NNW

A Christmas Story

All I wanted for Christmas 2007 was for
my son to be healthy
-check-
my son to smile
-check-
and to eat freshly baked cinnamon rolls
-check.

But you know how every year, there's one gift you really want, but don't dare to ask for, because you know you should just be thankful for what you have, because the season is about giving, not receiving, and because who do you think you are, making a grocery list of things you want for Christmas, expecting Santa to make special exceptions for you?

So you tell yourself that really, you'll be okay if you don't get it, that really, you are thankful for all the wonderful other things you've gotten, and that really, you enjoy seeing the delight on people's faces when you give them the gifts that you thought of especially for them.

And you tuck that special Christmas wish away in your heart, never to utter to anyone what a grandiose wish a soul like you would ever harbor.

Well, I will admit to having a wish like that this Christmas. It was only an addendum to the list that existed in my head. I would have denied it if anyone accused me of having such wanton desires. Even though my former self would have considered this a rather modest request.

But here I am, teary as I reflect on my moment of realization this morning when I saw that my secret wish had come true.

As I woke from the sound of my son crying, I squinted at the red glowing numbers of the alarm clock, and calculated. He knew that my true Christmas wish was for him to sleep for 6 hours in a row. And sleep for 6 hours he did.

Merry Christmas to all
and to all a good night.

NNW

Our Little Boy Gets Bigger...

The 2-month check-up report:
ELEVEN POUNDS THREE OUNCES!!
and 22 inches long!

Each cheek weighs one pound.

I'd say our little "peanut" has come a long way from 5 lbs. 13 ounces, 18 inches.

I guess it wasn't my imagination that he really was getting bigger, or the laundry shrinking his clothes...

I also survived him getting his shots :(
and he did fine, too.

That's all for now.
Don't worry, I'm sure we'll get plenty of priceless Christmas pictures to share.
NNW

Love Those Cheeks

This picture taken with the DaddyCam. I wonder if Webber will have the same impressive wingspan that his dad does.
I can't resist the bath pictures. That's the primary reason Webber gets a bath around here. Why else would we strip him down and put him in a bin of water in this freezing house? Just kidding - Daddy lets us turn the heat up to 68 for bath time.

And finally, a little comparison to how Webber fits into the outfit he wore home from the hospital. Here he his featured in it with Aunt Punchy at 10 days old.







And here he is, busting out of the seams (close enough), at one day shy of 2 months. (click pictures to enlarge)








Good work, Webber!
NNW

Just like the Old Days

WE LOVE WALKS.

It had been a while since I'd taken a self-portrait of my side-view. It's a different look than the belly pics, isn't it? I'm more top-heavy these days, on account of carrying our son in the Baby Bjorn, a device that I own thanks to my sister Emi.


Yes, Webber is inside my coat. Plus a few other layers. I'm set on making this arrangement work as long as my coat is big enough to zip and snap the bottom half shut.

I've determined that The Boy has now grown big enough to fit into the Bjorn, which is just a nice variety from the sling. This device is the new mutual best friend of Webber's and mine. Not only does it mean that we can get out of this lovely box we call our home and get some fresh air together, but it means that we can also move around the lovely box together more easily, and allow me to do really exciting things with two hands like I used to, like: unload the dishwasher (oooh!), fold laundry (ahhh!), and sweep up the cat hair (okay, I tried it once).

It also comes in handy when the little man wants to be walked around just for the sake of walking around and my arms would otherwise fall off from walking around for the sheer amount of time that he would like me to walk him around. Around the dining room table. Into the kitchen. Out of the kitchen. There's a whole downstairs circuit, not to be confused with the upstairs circuit. And for extra points, you can connect the two circuits and walk up and down our creaky stairs and burn a few extra calories that have been sneaking onto your thighs during the rest of your time that is spent sitting and feeding. Okay, maybe those are my thighs, not yours.

We Bjorned (yes, I'm making it a verb) around the downstairs circuit for quite a while the other night, or should I say morning, when Webber informed me that instead of dutifully going back to sleep after his 2am feeding, he would like to remain WIDE awake, and that he wanted, surprise surprise, to be walked around. I title the pictures below, "Greetings from 4:29am". It's a splendid time of day.
















And a big blog high five to anyone who can tell me how many calories are burned per hour of chair-rocking. WHILE breastfeeding, no less. AND holding a magazine.

Are you sensing a little cabin fever? Well I hope so, because I'm pleased to have had the appropriate amount of time available to paint the picture. This blog entry has been brought to you with the help of our friend the Boppy: another wonderful device that lets you type with two hands like you used to in the old days. Okay, those are my two hands and my old days. As long as he is content to feed and sleep while laying on the Boppy, and can hold off on his need to be walked around for just a little longer, Mommy can blog.

This belated segue from the cabin-fever topic is that Mommy and Daddy had their first legitimate date night last weekend.

Okay, it was for Daddy's company's annual holiday party at the Elks Lodge...

But how often do you have a date night when the meal and one drink, with the redemption of your drink ticket, is paid for?

It was all I could do to refrain from writing with lipstick on my forehead, "MOMMY'S FIRST NIGHT OUT SINCE THE BIRTH OF HER LOVELY SON. HE IS 7 WEEKS 2 DAYS OLD. NO, I DIDN'T BRING PICTURES. NO, HE'S NOT SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT YET. NOW THEN, WHAT TOPIC OF ADULT CONVERSATION WOULD YOU LIKE TO ENGAGE IN WITH ME? TRUST ME, NO TOPIC IS TOO DULL. I REPEAT, THIS IS MOMMY'S FIRST NIGHT OUT." I decided against it. Even with my forehead, there just wasn't enough room.

I never knew the Elks Lodge could be such a magical place. Filled with so many adults. Who clean themselves after they go to bathroom. And do not spit up on your shoulder. Although, they will walk away from you if you sing Christmas carols or the Name Game song to them. Free-thinkers, those adults.

And I was able to talk to, and dance with, my husband while neither of us were on Walk-With- or Dance-With-Webber-Duty. He is a charming man. He even treated me to my second glass of wine - the one that he did not have a drink ticket for.

I pumped milk for 2 weeks in preparation for the night out. There is now a very modest stash of this Ice Freedom in our freezer. But I'm still holding out on using it for frivolous things like grocery shopping without The Boy, or going to see a movie without The Boy. I'm saving it up for our second adult night out at a holiday party tomorrow night.

A big thanks goes out to my dad for sitting/walking around with Webber last week so that I could walk in town to get a hair cut. I didn't care how it came out, it was the best hair cut I ever got. I think I even skipped a little bit on the way home. That is, until I realized, an hour after leaving my house, that I forgot to bring my cell phone with me. YIKES. I guess I'm a little new at this being-separated-from-my-son thing.

Thanks to my mom and Steve for babysitting last weekend - thanks to our Freedom in a Bottle, she made it through the evening unscathed by any Webber hickeys. And thanks in advance to Nate's parents for tomorrow night. I'll try to remember to bring the cell phone. I'm still getting used to how weird it feels to tell my parents to "help themselves to anything in the fridge; here's what he sleeps in; we think we'll be home by 11pm."

Okay, his marathon nap has ended...
It's been fun, everyone.

And really, there are many moments of this parenthood thing that are truly fun, too. It gets more and more fun with every new fat roll that Webber grows, and every new facial expression that he makes, enhanced by his steadily growing jowls.

Nicky, Nate and Webber

I know, I know...

...It's been a painfully long time since the last posting. I'm happy to report that Webber successfully passed his driver's test last week.

So although this first picture is rather revealing, it was the best one to show off his thigh rolls, which we're very proud of. A sign of determined eating!











The next one was taken before we left to attend his second craft fair of the season - he loves them!







One of the happy family...





And one that looks like he crashed one of mommy and daddy's college parties. After his bath, of course.
Nicky, Nate and Webber
7 weeks 1 day

Better Late Than Never

This blog material is over a week old, but it's too good to leave undocumented for reading and viewing enjoyment.

Side note - the blog formatting is being wierd and doesn't reflect line spaces, etc. and I don't have the time or energy to look into it further... so I hope you can muddle through this bare-bones entry...

The background:
I hadn't started pumping milk yet, and don't have formula, so I am IT when Webber gets hungry. We haven't used pacifiers yet - we just let him suck on our pinky finger to tide him over if his food is not ready RIGHT when he wants it.

My mom was over last week helping out, and I wanted to have our car seat checked at the safety check that happens once a month. I hadn't considered anything besides taking Webber with me, since we're, as I've previously stated, joined at my nip. But since he was sleeping, my mom suggested that we just go, and she could stay behind with sweet slumbering Webber. It was less than 3 miles away, and I calculated that we had another hour or so of him sleeping, based on history. I decided this plan would be okay, left my cell number and took off.

I was gone for maybe 45 minutes, checking my cell phone every 5, surprised to see that yes, my battery was still working, and no, there were no missed calls. All must have been fine.

Meanwhile, Webber threw history to the wind and woke up after just a little bit. When he wakes up, he's ready to eat. Mom changed his diaper, saw that he was hungry, and tried the pinky finger, only to be rejected due to fingernails longer than he's used to. She reasoned not calling me by figuring that I'd be home "any minute". So she let him do what my sisters and I used to do, I guess, which is to suck on her chin. Well, 15 minutes later, I arrived home to see him fastened to her face, with her saying, "I think he's ready for you!"

I must state that this blog really and truly was not created to spread laughs over the internet at my dear mother's expense. And I thank her for allowing us to capture this spectacle on film.

And now without further ado, click here for the video.

For those of you who can't open the video, this is the short version:
And now some pictures from the past week.
































Life is good.

Nicky, Nate and Webber
6 weeks old in 2 days

p.s. - I started pumping today.

Laundry Day

Here is Webber looking particularly like a "little peanut" as he has been called many times so far.

****************************************************










And here is his reaction of me telling him that he will be required to wear a teenage-sized version of this orange and purple outfit to his first day of high school.








****************************************************



- Nicky Nate and Mr. One-Month-Old Webber

Good Times with The WebMan

A glimpse into the sling...
I am all about the walks these days. Any day now, the weather is supposed to start being a bit more November-in-Maine-like, so I've been stocking up on walks with "The WebMan," as Uncle Seth calls him. He loves the sling - falls right asleep as soon as we get moving. Actually, I think he's a sleep talker, because he makes the cutest noises while we walk.

Musings:
The other day I had one of the songs from Webber's RainForest Swing stuck in my head. It's set up in the kitchen, where he can hang out so that I can make myself breakfast. I mistakenly thought you had to have a toddler to start getting children's' songs stuck in your head.

Breastfeeding entails a lot of quality time together. We're attached at my nip, if you will. Several hours a day. I vacillate between trying to multi-task during these times, and trying to just be zen about it and enjoy his cuteness. Some of his most adorable sounds, expressions, and movements happen when he's nursing. Nonetheless, mommy needs to eat, too. Thus the running list of food items that I have dropped on my son so far: popcorn, trail mix, mashed potatoes, and the World's Most Perfect Food, Muddy Buddies.

I need to send a way overdue shout out to Nate's sister Aunt Kara who stayed with us for Webber's first 2 weeks. She's actually a post-partum doula in San Francisco, so she makes a living out of spoiling new mothers by doing their laundry, dishes, errands, and holding the baby while they indulge in things like showers and e-mail so they can type with two hands unlike what I'm doing now. She also provides lactation counseling and is a wealth of knowledge concerning all things new baby and new parents.
She gave us a gift that made me laugh harder than I laugh at America's Home Videos: a Mini Safe Baby Handling Kit. I was, surprise surprise, nursing Webber while reading the book, and am still amazed that he stayed attached despite my vigorous laughing.

All right, I'm going to stop multi-tasking and go park it in front of the TV while The WebMan finishes Dinner #5.

Nicky, Nate and Webber

Saturday Night Cards...

... with a twist.
I like this next picture because it features the Boppy.
Nicky, Nate and Webber

Grins, Hiccups, and Webber's First Bath, oh my

Here is the result of what I thought were a couple more test runs with our new camcorder.

Really though, I think Nate just wanted an excuse to broadcast a Fleetwood Mac song on You Tube.

Webber's First Bath (this was 2 weeks ago, by the way) went successfully thanks to Aunt Kara.
Successful meaning, Webber got clean. Not that he liked the process. A valuable discovery since then: he LOVES the shower.

Enjoy-
Nicky, Nate and Webber

U Can't Touch This

At this early stage, it's a whole lot of "The Boy" (as Nate calls him) eating, sleeping, and pooping. And peeing.

And with all those fluids circulating, there's bound to be leakage. He's kind of in between premie and newborn sized diapers. Most of his newborn sized clothes are still too big. So, we've had some emergency shopping trips by Grammie Debbie and Aunt Punchy for a few pieces of premie clothes to tide him over. But frequent leakage + limited wardrobe = frequent laundry days. In explaining this predicament to my mom, bless her, she offered to make him some pants, which were the top priority need of the moment. She used a pattern she had for sizes Premie - 24 months. She whipped up 2 over night, with 3 more pairs to follow a few days later.

Did she measure him? Why bother - how much variation could there be to patterns for premie pants?

Thus, the birth of Webber's "Hammer Pants", named after the unfortunately dressed rapper of the 90s, M.C. Hammer.

The purple fleece ones are his most Hammerific, on account of their extra bulk.

I will say again, bless my mom. It was just an unfortunately sized pattern.

Too bad he couldn't show us some dance moves while modeling the Hammer Pants. Maybe when he gets older.

Nicky, Nate and Webber

The Mother of All Blog Entries

This may sound a little anti-climactic being almost 3 weeks after the fact, but I simply need to share Webber’s kick-ass birth story. It went better than I could have dreamed, and I love that I have a positive birth story to add to the negative ones that haunt expecting women out there.

I’m especially writing this for my cousin Jess who is due in a couple of weeks and I’m guessing she could use some good labor and delivery vibes sent her way. I know that every pregnancy and delivery is different, and there are certain advantages to having a small baby come early, but nonetheless it’s a major physical and emotional experience that women share with each other, including the good and the bad.

And I’m giving you fair warning that this truly is almost three weeks in the making, with no detail left undocumented. It’s the “It’s My Blog and I’ll Write a Novel if I Want To” entry. Once I got a few pages into the story and we hadn’t even left the house yet to go to the hospital, I realized I could either start over with an abbreviated version, or continue with the level of detail that I am known to share. I continued with the unabridged version, in part, to have this to share with Webber when he’s older. And I wanted to capture as much as I could while everything was still fresh.

So put on a pot of coffee, pour yourself the first cup, and hunker down for some good blog readin’.

Thursday October 18^th I woke up at 2 in the morning to pee. Nothing new. It was at least the second time to do so that evening thus far. A fun common pregnancy side effect: frequent peeing. So, I peed. Returned to bed. Laid down. Felt a bit more of a trickle down there. Hmmm, I thought. This would be pretty embarrassing if anyone else was awake to notice it. Glad that I escaped a public display of another fun common side effect of pregnancy, that being the loosening of the pelvic muscles that lead to extra fun things like peeing yourself.

Returned to the bathroom. Peed some more. A considerable amount, actually. Even in my groggy state I realized this was weird. But again, brushed it off as pregnancy-related.

Returned to bed. Laid down. This time, it was between a trickle and a gush. OKAY then, this is NOT normal.

Returned to the bathroom. Clear fluid coming out with abandon. Absorbing fluid with handful after handful of toilet paper. Could this be…? Is this really how it’s all starting??

I stepped into the bedroom and woke Nate by saying, “Um, my water has broken,” smirking while delivering this news. This felt surreal.

A two second pause on his part before sitting up and coming into the bathroom to see the wet toilet paper I had made. And the puddle on the floor. “You’re sure that’s not pee?” he asked. I kind of wished it was. Were we ready for this? I was still smiling. Yes, we were. Guess we weren’t going to work that day. Or for the next several weeks, in my case. Oh WOW.

I wasn’t having any contractions, but knew that generally once your water has broken, a delivery should happen within 24 hours or so to decrease the risk of infection. So we called the hospital to let them know we’d be coming in. “We’ll see you when you get here,” I was told by the nurse who answered my call. “No rush.” Ooooh… dangerous words to say to a woman who feels fine and wants to wrap up “just a few loose ends” before heading in for a long day at the office. I knew I was probably looking at some Pitocin-induced contractions, which are famously stronger than ones that happen on their own. No, I wasn’t motivated to rush into that.

I recalled a birth story of a friend who delivered her first child 3 weeks early. Her water broke, and she also wanted to avoid Pitocin. So she made herself some blue cohosh tea and went cross-country skiing. Contractions eventually started and she delivered her son within the next day or so. I didn’t have blue cohosh tea, but I did have red raspberry leaf tea, which is also supposed to help with uterine tone. I figured it was better than nothing. I had Nate make a cup of it with two tea bags.

I sipped my tea while putting together the necessary bags, which we, of course, hadn’t done yet. We had just been told the Murphy’s Law in our last HypnoBirthing class that packing your bags was a sure way to go past your due date. Do with that information what you will, Jess!

In addition to packing the bags, I made a fabulous bowl of oatmeal, emptied a few trash cans, and took pictures of the nursery in its not-quite-done state, as well as my to-do list, and Nate holding our cat Toonces, the one who likes to be held like a baby.

Nate installed the car seat, rounded up CDs to help energize/relax/comfort me/us as needed during labor, and parked himself in his recliner while I finished my bustling. He looked like he was cramming for a test in college as he read the affirmations from the HypnoBirthing book that came with our class. I considered this list “All the Right Things He was Supposed to Say to Me During Labor.” Well, it would be worth a try.

It was dark and chilly as we got into the car at 4:30 in the morning. Nate drove a very paternal 64 mph on the way to the hospital. We mused over the ironies of this timing:

We had JUST done our prenatal intake appointment at the hospital the day before, in which we toured the maternity unit, made sure insurance information was up to date, and answered the very crucial 196 questions that you must answer in order to have a baby, such as how many daily servings of caffeine you usually consume, and whether or not religion plays an important role in your life. Seriously.

Also, Nate was supposed to be gone the day of the prenatal intake and overnight, working up north and not always reachable by phone due to poor cell reception. But he had a last minute change in work plans and was able to meet me at the hospital to see where we would be delivering our kid.

As we drove home from the intake appointment, we decided to eat out that night since Nate would actually be around and we wouldn’t have to dine separately - him up north, me in the living room. We enjoyed a delicious meal at our favorite brewpub, and I remarked how nice it was that we could take the opportunity to have such a date night, you know, “while we can, in these last few weeks.”

And because Nate got to come to the prenatal intake appointment, he also got to have his fatherly question answered of exactly where he should drive up. We were told that if it was between 9pm and 8am, to use the Emergency Room entrance. Yeah, sure, good to know. Like we would need that dramatic middle-of-the-night entrance.

But there we were, arriving at 5am, walking through the ER doors. We passed a row of wheelchairs. Nate asked me if I wanted him to push me in one of them, you know, like the movies. I told him emphatically NO. I felt fine. Still no contractions. The only thing out of the ordinary for me was the occasional gush of fluid in my underwear. I used up all of the pads that I’d had laying around in my bathroom since January.

So we strolled up to the nurses station, gave my name as the patient who had called a few hours before, and were brought into the “Treatment Room”. This was the room that I remember being told on the tour the day before that was used for any special monitoring or procedures that needed to be done due to complications or something. I just remember that it was essentially the “Special Room.” And it was our room to start with.

A nurse had me change into a very sexy hospital outfit, get into a hospital bed, and she asked me how everything started. I told her my fluid trickling/gushing story, which ended with a riveting “…So here we are, but no contractions.” She hooked me up to a monitor to get a baseline of the baby’s heartbeat and track any contractions that may have started. That needed to be on for at least 20-30 minutes, so she left the room for Nate and I to look at each other and say things like, “It’s a good thing I did the dishes yesterday.” And, “I’ll call work after the nurse comes back and unhooks you. How long did she say she’d be?” The adrenalin of our early morning was slowly wearing off.

After some time, I was unhooked, free to roam the halls in said sexy hospital gown, since walking can help contractions start. The midwife was called and would be in at 7:00. We made calls to co-workers. I called my mom to catch her before she planned to leave for Vermont for the next 2 days and would have been unreachable since she didn’t have a cell phone. I told her I was not calling to say come in right now, since we were looking at a long time before anything would really be happening, but that Nate would be in touch as things progressed.

We returned to the Treatment Room. Our midwife arrived, bubbly as ever. I’d also just had a prenatal appointment with her the day before, during which she remarked, “Isn’t it fascinating to think that this little one knows when his or her time will come, and we’re all just along for the ride?!” Fascinating indeed!

She reviewed the monitor printout, checked my cervix, which in case you didn’t already know, Jess, is done by FEELING the cervix with their fingers, not by looking inside to measure the centimeters, which, for some reason, is what I had always thought. She told me I was 2 centimeters dilated and 80% effaced, and that, are you ready for this, SHE COULD FEEL HAIR. Like, Baby-Head-O-Hair. To which I beamed, "Get OUT!"

I was fully expecting her to say that I wasn’t at all dilated and that we were going to have to start from scratch with Pitocin.

It was also determined by the monitor that I have had a few mild contractions, unbeknownst to me. I mean, if I had really paid attention, I guess I could have said it felt like I was having mild period cramps. But with a gradual start and stop time,– not like “OH MY GOD, HONEY, START TIMING THIS CONTRACTION NOW!”

So, because things were poking along on their own, and because I was negative for Group B Strep (which would have meant the need for antibiotics), she asked us if we’d like to spend one last morning together, out in the world, maybe having breakfast, going for a walk, taking a nap…versus watching the clock in the Treatment Room while wearing my sexy hospital threads and counting the hours and minutes until they give me Pitocin. She said that sometimes, contractions start on their own in the hours after water has broken, especially with the help of walking. She said to meet back at the hospital by noon or 1:00, and we’d reassess my progress, and make more of a plan from there.

I am now aware that, at the time, I did not fully appreciate what a gift she was giving us. But it’s a huge part of the magic of Webber’s birth story.

Needless to say, we opted for the scenario that involved me wearing my own clothes for the next several hours.

I fully admit that another thought that crossed my mind was my to-do list, and all the things I could accomplish that would help make me feel like I could actually, really, feel like a prepared parent. A parent with a few less loose ends hanging over those first days and weeks of my new child’s life. You know, like finding a pesky missing TV remote control to return to my step-father, hanging curtains that I had purchased a few weeks before, and organizing our storage system in the barn.

I expressed this train of thought, which I’m sure was not a surprise to Nate. He told me firmly, “NO – we are going to stay focused on three things, and three things only: Eating, Walking, and Sleeping. Not necessarily in that order.”

Bless him for protecting me from myself. “I know, I know,” I said. Okay, I could do those three things.

We decided to have our “last meal” at the Senator. Of course it contrasted from the meal the night before because we KNEW this was our last meal as… just a couple. We didn’t exactly blend in with the businessmen/leaf-peeping tourist brunch crowd that otherwise made up the dining population that morning. I was wearing my maternity overalls and a bright pink top that accentuated my delicate condition. Now used to the inquiries from strangers due to the obvious rotund-ness of my midsection, I said to Nate how funny it would be to get a question from someone between now and the delivery about “when I’m due.” Sure enough, the waitress asked if we were expecting a baby, to which we answered, “Yes, we're actually in labor right now!" I added that my water had broken earlier that morning. Well didn’t that throw her for a loop. She gave us a weak, confused smile, said congratulations, but to my disappointment did not give us any kind of “being in labor” discount when the bill came.

I’m not sure when I’d say I first felt my contractions. Maybe on the ride to breakfast. The first one Nate witnessed the effects of was while I was eating my corned beef hash. I just kind of took a deep breath, looked down at my plate, and had to pause from whatever I had been saying at the time. But I think I was in denial that that feeling was actually a contraction. There was no monitor confirming it for me, just this familiar “period cramp” feeling. It gently came, and gently left.

I must also say that I wasn’t really expecting the contractions to start on their own. At least not until I put in some serious walking time. I thought it was very nice of our midwife to give us a few last hours together, and to express hope that there was a chance of it happening naturally. But I was still pretty sure that we were going to drive back to the hospital, still be 2 cm, and get hooked up right away.

Nonetheless we continued with the “Three Things” plan and started out on our walk around the streets of Hallowell. It was an amazingly perfect morning for a “last walk”. I have always loved the fall, and this was peak foliage season on day that was unseasonably warm. A crisp breeze helped make sure things felt like October instead of August. I remember that everything seemed golden. I don’t think there were any clouds in the way of the sun, and most of the leaves around us were a bright yellow-orange.

I wanted walk up the steep hill that I usually do, but Nate shot down that idea, citing a concern about conserving my energy for long hours ahead of us, hours of stronger contractions and pushing. I was, in fact, beginning to have surges that were causing me to slow down and instinctively hold my breath. But they were still just “sneaking up on me,” then slipping away rather than hitting me all of a sudden, then turning off like a switch. During these crampy times I took baby steps, looked down at the ground, and concentrated on breathing in and out slowly. Nate knew when I was in the middle of one when my speech would drift off, sometimes putting my hand up to let him know that it would be a minute until I could come back to the conversation.

We returned home, and I had Nate make me another cup of red raspberry leaf tea with two more tea bags. While the waves of contractions were coming more frequently than they were at 7:00 that morning, I still felt like they were manageable. They were just like bad period cramps. The kind that make you double over, feel lightheaded, hold your breath, and wait for them to pass. I was feeling tired from having started the day so early, and really wanted to nap if at all possible. Especially since my vision of the day’s proceedings included being up till midnight due to accomplishing the most incomprehensible, physically demanding feat that I would ever survive. I had heard about the benefits of working through the early stages of labor at home as much as possible. I figured I was either going to be doubled over here at home, or doubled over in a johnny at the hospital. But Nate was getting anxious as he watched me react to the waves of cramps. He was not used to seeing me doubled over regardless of my attire, and I think he wanted to know that someone was closer than a half hour away who knew how to deal with a woman who was doubled over. “Come on,” he said. “We’re GOING to the hospital.” He was, as we say, putting his foot down. I put my shoes on and we were off.

Nate drove a very paternal 79 mph to the hospital this time. We arrived at about 11:30. This time we were lead to an actual labor and delivery room. Tonda, the nurse who would be attending to us introduced herself, and said that she had gotten a call from Carol, a co-worker friend of mine who used to work as a labor and delivery nurse on this unit. When Carol got called in to replace me for work that day because my water broke, she called the unit to “make sure we got a really good nurse.” And a really good nurse we got.

She said she understood from our intake form that we were planning on using HypnoBirthing for our labor and delivery. We explained that that was our original plan, but a HypnoBirthing class had not been offered until very recently, so we had only attended two classes so far. I had been doing the relaxation exercises daily since the beginning of class a couple of weeks before, but was not exactly achieving the desired hypnotic state that is intended. I usually did the exercises at the end of the day, and managed to fall asleep about two thirds of the time. Hey, at least it had been a nice lesson in forcing me to relax.

I hadn’t realized how new HypnoBirthing is, and was told at the intake the day before that while the nurses were starting to see it being used more lately, most of them were not experienced in assisting women with this method. Tonda told us it was relatively new to her, but that she’d do whatever she could to help us. We told her not to worry because we’d probably be using our own methods of laboring anyway. What these methods were I wasn’t quite sure yet, but I knew it wouldn’t have worked for me to follow one strict approach. She mentioned that one woman who recently used HypnoBirthing there had the clock taken down from the wall in her room. That sounded good so we asked Tonda to do the same for us.

She hooked me up to the monitor again to check the progress. It was interesting to see that the machine made different noises and drew different lines when a surge would come. Our midwife was called, and while we waited for her, we began what felt like more officially working through labor. We talked, I paced, we listened to Phish and the Who. Nate went down the list of “All the Right Things to Say”. It felt foreign for me to hear him say high-school-track-coach things like “You can do it,” “You’re doing a good job,” and “Stay focused on slow, deep breathing.” Well, you know what I mean. I wondered where the Everyday Nate was. I had never seen Helping-Someone-Through-Labor Nate. I knew he was doing his best. Lord knows I have no idea how I would be at helping someone through such a monumentally challenging physical experience, especially if I had never experienced, let alone witnessed, it myself.

Our midwife arrived at about 1:00 and checked my cervix again. This time I was 4 cm, which was encouraging. She also stripped my membranes, or, “gave my cervix a little what-for” as Nate described what the process looked like. She said that stripping the membranes could also help speed things along. Based on what the monitor had recorded for contractions, they weren’t as frequent and regular as she would have hoped by this time. So she suggested giving things another half hour in hopes of contractions that increased in frequency and regularity. If they didn’t, she explained, just a LITTLE Pitocin could help move things along, so that we could maybe have this baby by 8:00 or 9:00pm. She expressed her concern for my energy level in the case of having a labor that lasted into the wee hours. I agreed that that didn’t sound very appealing. There was something to be said for getting things over with, so that we could meet our baby after all these months!

During the next hour or so, I continued the pacing and breathing. I really wanted to lie down but knew that being upright would help move things along better. I tried sitting / balancing on the birthing ball. Nate gave me a back rub.

I found that when a surge would come, I would close my eyes and go inward for a minute. I tried to breathe the way I’d read about: long and slow. Doing this when you’re uncomfortable is a whole different ball of wax compared to when you’re laying on a blanket in class listening to new age relaxation music. My breathing was shallow. I had the adrenalin shakes.

I wished we had gotten more than two out of the five HypnoBirthing classes under our belts. I tried to picture the different layers of muscles in my uterus expanding like we learned about.

All I could focus on was how uncomfortable I was. I wanted my mind to be in a different place. I wanted to visualize some peaceful scene and feel my body let go as I went there.

The contractions still weren’t what we had hoped for. By the time the Pitocin IV was actually in my hand, it was about 2:15. (Nate helped me re-create the timing of this, as the time in the hospital was a bit of a blur for me).

The past hour had not gone as I had hoped. I realized that I was feeling reactive instead of proactive. I was not feeling in control of this experience. I asked Tonda for any suggestions she had for comfort measures. She recommended the Jacuzzi. I had heard that women either loved the hot tub or hated it. At that point I couldn’t really imagine that it would help, but my current plan of panicking wasn’t really working, either. I paced and breathed as the water filled the tub. Nate told me “Once you get into the tub, you’ll feel relaxed and rejuvenated.” That was a nice thought.

I was still feeling a bit desperate. If the hot tub itself didn’t work, maybe relaxing my muscles with laughter would. I remember reading in Ina May Gaskin’s Guide to Childbirth that humor can play a very helpful role in moving labor along. I had felt a distinct sense of relief when I read this, after having read the bulk of her text, which describes some pretty touchy-feely new age stuff, some of which was feeling a little too far out there for Nate and me. Using humor in labor, now this we could do.

I asked Nate to set up our laptop with the DVD of America’s Funniest Videos that we had brought. It was a gift at my baby shower – a special edition of “Motherhood Madness”. Nate knew of my plans to bring this DVD. Although, when I suggested it now, he looked at me, surprised, and asked if I was sure. I think he thought this labor was a little too advanced to resort to the AFV. I said why not, it was worth a try.

I got into the hot tub at about 3:00, still hooked up to the IV. The water was on the hot side of warm, just the way I like it. My shaking stopped, and the warm water was a distraction in and of itself. Nate set the laptop on a chair a couple feet away. With the tub jets on, I couldn’t hear the show at all, but it was a fine additional distraction. I watched the show in between surges, and remember thinking that it really wasn’t as funny as I usually think it is. All those guys being hit in the crotch – why do I normally think that is so funny? I mean, I HOWL at this show.

When the surges came, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, while making my tense muscles loose and heavy. The waves still felt like really heavy period cramps. It was only mid-afternoon. They were only going to get more intense, I thought. They still weren’t the earth-shattering-I-think-my-body-is-going-to-break kind of painful that I had heard about. I had to stay strong for those kinds of contractions that were surely awaiting me.

At about 3:45, Tonda returned to hook me up to the monitor again to check my progress. I’d had this heavy feeling, like gas, for a couple of hours. Before she attached the belts to me, I asked if I could use the bathroom first. She followed me in, wheeling the IV stand, which is a good thing because I wasn’t at all concerned with that piece of equipment that was attached to my hand. I told her I just felt like I needed to… well, if we’re going to tell the story accurately, “go #2”. That’s what I felt like. I had these waves of uncontrollable urges come over me that compelled me to tense my abdominal muscles, hold my breath, and bear down. As I stood there in front of her, unable to resist doing so, she said something to the effect of, “let’s bypass the monitor for a minute – come over here to the bed.” She checked me like the midwife had done, and said, “I don’t feel your cervix.” Meaning: I had reached full dilation, and this urge to push was the real deal!

At this point she turned into Wonder Woman, advising me on how to breathe, calling our midwife, calling for backup, telling Nate how he could help me. I felt so relieved to know that my body was ready to help push this baby into the world. The room was suddenly buzzing with at least one other nurse and two resident doctors. Our midwife was on her way, but if she didn’t get there in time, one of the residents was gloving up and would be the one to help deliver our baby. I knew that this was not how it was supposed to go, but felt a certain assurance that my baby and me would get through this, no matter who was at the other end of things.

A table was wheeled in with instruments and sterile wrap, and I was aware of a collective sense of everyone in the room praying for our midwife to arrive.

Nate continued saying things on The List. Tonda patted my face and neck with a cool cloth and said other nice things, none of which I can remember now.

The resident was taking his place at the foot of my bed. Just then, our midwife arrived, and I swear everyone in the room cheered. She was breathless and wide-eyed and remarked at how surprising it was that things moved along so quickly. I continued my breathing and pushing when the waves compelled me to do so. I was never told to push when I didn’t feel the urge, and was never told to suppress a push that I felt I needed to do.

I had just made a point at my prenatal visit with our midwife the day before to ask that she call us “Nicky and Nate” instead of “Nicole and Nathan” and she did a fabulous job honoring this request when it mattered most. “Breathe your baby down, Nicky,” she told me. “Breathe your baby down.”

I continued to ride the waves of “pushes”, although it really felt more like my body was doing what it knew it needed to do. At some point I became aware of our midwife telling me to breathe our baby down, which I remembered from the HypnoBirthing lingo meant “push.” I gave it a little more of a concerted effort.

I felt a circle of stinging burn, and instinctively resisted pushing into that. But I knew that the burn meant progress, and there was no going back! I wanted to move forward, and knew we were getting so close. I pushed into the burn.

She asked if I wanted to touch the baby’s head. I had expected that I would want to, or to see the head with a mirror to help make progress feel more real. But in that moment, my eyes were glued shut and my hands were wrapped around three layers of sheets beneath me. Nate says that the baby’s head poked out about 5 times, each a little more than the previous time, until the head was finally out. Then the shoulders followed. The midwife asked, “Nate, do you want to put your hand on your baby?” I remember saying that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to, if it freaked him out. But he’s since said it felt good for someone to give him a specific task to do. So he put one hand out and she placed it on the baby’s body. Then she said to him, “Give me your other hand!” Next thing he knew, he had our child firmly in his hands, the rest of the baby slipped out, and Nate helped put him on my chest.

I smiled and laughed and said “Hi honey! Hey there!” to our baby. Someone asked who we had here, meaning boy or girl. We looked underneath the tiny, warm, wet body, and said it’s a boy. “This is Webber,” I said.

I didn’t cry like I thought I would. I didn’t look to see if Nate was crying. I was just feeling a happy rush of adrenalin, accomplishment, and relief. Nate and I kissed. Someone noted the time of birth was 4:24pm. I think I said within 5 minutes of delivering Webber, “I can’t believe that was it! It really wasn’t that bad!” I was so thankful to have such a wonderful way for this new life to start.

And that is Webber's amazing birth story.

I promise future blog entries will be much shorter and contain more pictures of him.
In the meantime, Nate put together a test video clip of a minute of quality time with Webber, taken after his first bath. There's not much sound, except at the end you can hear Nate chuckling, and if you pay close attention you can see that Webber starts to get his famous hiccups. Which he gets several times a day, by the way. And they are already almost as loud as his dad's.

Until next time,
Nicky and Nate and Webber
whatdoyaknow, tomorrow is Webber's due date...

Happy Halloween

Featuring Webber the heavyweight who checked in at 5 pounds FIFTEEN ounces at his first doctor's appointment on Monday, and at that rate is tipping the scales at well over 6 pounds as we speak.
And no, he didn't wear the pumpkin to that appointment.

- Nicky and Nate and Webber

Picture catch up...

(click to enlarge pictures)

Nate holding Toonces at 4 in the morning
before we left for the hospital 10-18-07.


Nate holding Webber a few days later
for a picture of the 4 generations of Sylvester men.


The many faces of Webber.


Aunt Punchy helping Webber model his HUGE infant-sized clothing. (No, his legs are not that long and made of noodles.) Thank goodness for premie clothes. And premie diapers. Seriously.




Webber's first outing, 1 week old. A walk in town Hallowell on a beautiful fall afternoon. I realized when we got back from that walk that I forgot to shower that day. And by then it was practically the next day, so, you know... why bother? My son still feeds from me, and his nose is right smack in armpit vicinity.


Dad and son...




Thoughts of the week:

These pictures do not do justice to Webber's cuteness. Would it be too far fetched to think I could spontaneously absorb some photography skills and/or a better camera?

Who needs sleep, anyway?

Thank you to friends and family for love and support = food, clothes, space, well wishes.

Life is good.

-- Nicky and Nate and Webber
Day 11
No I don't think I'll keep up the daily counting forever...

Finally a word from the Mommy

If Nate could have just told everyone way back in March that all I'd have to do for him to post a blog entry was to deliver his firstborn, it certainly would have spared us all a lot of wasted energy, now wouldn't it have? Although we did get to learn some pretty entertaining things about him in the meantime :)

Many pictures of the past few days are being held captive in Nate's laptop, which I am not on right now and don't have the technological savvy to retrieve, but I will just share an oldy but goody - a picture of one of the other best days of my life, when Nate and I got married, on Webber Pond 5 years ago. I guess the name Webber had occurred to both of us at separate times, and after months of mulling it over, we decided that it was the one.


And one from yesterday - what a happy family.


There's been so many blog-worthy moments in the past few days -
At some point I'll share the extended version of Webber's amazing birth story for those who have not yet been blessed with my concise-as-always recounting of it. But as you can imagine it will take me a bit to put together 14 hours of start-to-finish play-by-play which I'm sure you're all anxiously awaiting. So thanks for your patience.

In the meantime, I must also say that Nate should get the Best Supporting Partner Award - he's met needs I didn't even know I had. He's been the most amazing, attentive partner ever. I've wondered if he took a class in it on the side.

So, my brain is mush,
nothing else matters right now.
I am a mommy and I love it.

Nicky and Nate and Webber
5 days old

Webber Mathieu Sylvester....

....was born Thursday, October 18th at 4:24pm in Waterville, ME. He weighed in at 5lbs 13oz, 18" healthy and hungry. This is Nate by the way, my first post. Mom was/is amazing and is very healthy and has more energy than I can believe. I wouldn't be surprised if she chimed in here later. I am posting a few pictures while I have a moment, more about the birth and first few days later........




Webber 4 days before he arrived.....


The fam. Webber fresh out of the oven.


Webber and Mom


Webber and Dad


Webber Mathieu Sylvester


Stay tuned for more........

Nate and Nicky

Baby Dribble Drabble

Name ideas from our SIX-year-old friend Jackson:
"Angela" for a girl
"Irving" for a boy
(happy birthday, Jackson!)

My littlest sister Lilo has insisted twice that the name should be "Bob" if it's a boy.

This is the same littlest sister who used the word "boobs" in conversation a few times recently, much to our amusement. One of the times, in a story involving boobs, she clarified, "like she has", pointing at yours truly. WOW. And we all know that kids don't lie, right? Hey, I'll take it where I can get it.

The project of this weekend has been to make sense of all of the wonderful gifts we received last weekend. I did a lot of sorting the day after the shower, but nothing could be put away yet because we were still waiting on the changing table and armoire. So everything went into the crib, see below, to allow for floor and maneuvering space for Nate and his dad to lug those pieces upstairs and into the room. And I do mean lug.


I enjoyed a fabulous Friday night with Aunt Punchy, watching the season premier of the show we got hooked on last year, Men in Trees. We made an event of it by adding the crucial accompanying activity of beading. Which of course involved further organizing my inventory of beads, and disassembling projects that I've determined I will simply not return to. I tell myself that this act helped to clear some space in my mind for new beginnings, ensuring that the next time I have an hour to spare and the creative energy to bead, I won't have to sort through any pesky clutter in order to get started. I consider bead organization to be a couple steps above cleaning the coffee maker on the OTP list.

Sylvester birthdays;
Aunt Kara on October 9th,
Grammie Debbie on October 13th,
and an early 90th birthday celebration for Great Grandpa Ralph last night, as he'll be at his winter home in Florida when his actual birthday comes in December.

It was fun seeing the Sylvester side of the family, since we don't get together with them as often as we do other families. A fun bunch. We were reminded that we'll be having the first great grandchild in the family - no pressure, right? So of course there was plenty of baby related talk amongst the cousins (at the "kids" end of the table). And predictions about the odds of our child coming out "normal", given the gene pool we're starting with. And last night only represented one quarter of the genes that are being passed on to Tot. Should be interesting.

My cousin-in-law Mike asked if we could do him a favor and let him know the name and actual date of delivery so he could finish up his needlepoint that he's been working on for the baby's room. Well Mike, just for you, I've hidden those secrets in this blog entry, in encrypted computer code that only someone with your technological savvy could figure out. Just don't tell anyone else...

Okay, off to fold my first load of baby laundry...
*SIGH*
*dreamy look on face at the thought of handling all those soft and tiny onesies and booties and receiving blankets and-*

It WILL always be this cute of a task, right?
Right?!?

-Nicky and Nate
36 weeks 4 days

or, if you were little baby Nate, only a week and a half or so before you took your parents by surprise by deciding you were ready to be born a couple of weeks early.
!!!!!!!!!!!