Busted with a nook

We're trying to keep pacifier use to a minimum. Usually.

The sorta smile

Movin'

'Don't worry, we'll clean it up'

One summer evening when I was younger, our family had some friends over. We were eating grilled burgers in the kitchen. Dad tried to help the ketchup along by swinging the bottle in a downward motion. We all watched as a stream of ketchup blots squirted across the floor, up the oven and onto the cabinets.
The lesson: Make sure the cap is on tight.
Well, I was reminded of that incident early this morning.
I was sleeping on the couch (long story involving a fussy baby) when I awoke to Anni laughing in the bedroom and saying, "You've got to be kidding me."
My quick assessment: She's in the bedroom with Elise and Elise is not crying. This will be interesting.
I asked what was going on.
"Elise just pooped all over the place."
"On the changing table?"
"The table, the walls, everywhere."
I walked into the bedroom and, well, sure enough, at only three weeks old, she has mastered the art of projectile pooping. Everything south of her spot on the changing table was covered in it. In the middle of a diaper change, she managed to hit the changing table, the wall, the wipes box, a stack of clean diapers, her crib frame, the crib mattress, a blanket and everything in between.
It was impressive, really.
Funny, too. The outside of the big bottle of hand sanitizer was definitely no longer sanitary. The white lampshade on the changing table lamp no longer was white and went right in the garbage.
While we cleaned up the mess, Elise sat in her bouncer, either oblivious to what had happened or well aware of it and enjoying the fact that Mom and Dad were wiping down the walls at 7 a.m.
"Don't worry, we'll clean it up," Anni told a very content Elise.
The lesson: Put a cap on her during a diaper change.

How 'tummy time' transpires

Anni has been working with Elise on "tummy time" each day, putting her on her stomach and watching as she slowly figures out that she can use those dangly things -- arms -- to push herself up. Anni will toss a toy into the mix to keep her interested.
It starts out well:

But after about five minutes, Elise gets tired of doing this while we sit and watch:

This is usually a sign they are done for the day:

Favorite photo, so far.

Work interrupted

Since I last posted a blog item, Elise has learned to crawl, peel carrots and play Scrabble.
OK, we're not that far yet, but she is building up her neck muscles through "tummy time," so my guess is she's going to be an early crawler. That's great, except this house is not yet set up for a crawler. ("You mean I can't leave tools on the floor anymore?")
It's been about a week since this blog last was updated. You know what gets in the way of blogging? A job.
After about two and a half weeks at home, I went back to work Monday. That kinda sucked. The job is good, but one could get used to being at home full time. Of course, I'm not the one who should be complaining. Anni had to play Single Mom for about two days because of my work schedule and a major development in our upstairs remodel -- we're insulated! -- but she did really well.
Elise is now three weeks and a day. She looks different from the day she was born -- she lost her newborn chubby cheeks and seems to be getting longer. She looks much older than just three weeks.
On average, she's feeding about once every three hours, but just when we think we've got her scheduled figured out, she decides to sleep through a feeding or ask for seconds an hour after an hour-long feast.
She's starting to grow out of some of her newborn clothes. I can relate because it's kind of like how I have grown out of pants from three years ago. Thanks a lot, ice cream.

Hands

No more stump

I'm happy to report there no longer is smelly belly or stump stench in the house.
Elise's umbilical cord finally fell off, meaning we now have a baby with a normal belly button and, most importantly, a belly that does not smell.
Now if only we could do something about the odor coming from her diaper...

Uncle, your niece. Niece, your uncle.

Bryan is in town for a few days and saw Elise for the first time Thursday.
They got along pretty well -- mostly because Elise was quiet. Whenever she as much as thought about crying, Bryan gave her a stern "Heyyyyyy," sort of like what you'd say to a dog that spotted table scraps. Strange, but it worked.
Somehow, Bryan managed to spend the entire day at our house and not change one diaper. Roll up your sleeves, bro, because that means at least two diaper changes at the next visit.

Smelly belly

Like a scab that just won't fall off, the stinky stump is hanging on.
Stinky stump, you ask? That's what I'm calling the remaining umbilical cord nubbin, which, quite frankly, reeks.
Elise smells like a new baby should, provided you avoid her belly region. We think we're doing everything we're supposed to -- keeping her belly clean, not covering it with a bandage, etc.
And yet that stump just won't fall off.
While we're on the topic, I forget to mention that I cut the cord right after delivery. You hear stories about how that is supposed to a "special experience" for Dad.
That wasn't the case.
Oh, sure, it was nice to do it, but there was so much going on in the delivery room at the time that cutting the cord seemed like a routine medical procedure.
Since it happened so quickly, maybe I botched the procedure and I'm actually to blame for the smelly belly.

Just like a Jennie-O

Have you ever prepped a turkey? You know, rinse it in the sink and hold the slippery wet bird carefully in your hands so as to avoid dropping it.
That's all I could think of as we gave Elise her first "bath" the other day. She's a slippery bugger.
The bath, which really was more of a wipe-down in the sink, was prompted by her first projectile spit-up incident. By the way, that projectile was caught on video. It's hilarious.
We've done a couple of baths since then, trying to get her used to water. She is getting better, but she did not seem to enjoy the first bath:





She was just fine afterward, when we put her on her changing table. She likes being on the table, even if it is because she has filled her Swaddler.

The visitors

Here's a photo drop from some of the visitors we had at the hospital. Thanks to everyone who stopped by.

Not-so-urgent care

Parenthood is filled with milestones. Some are celebratory, others ... well, not so much.
We reached one of those this morning when we bundled up Elise and headed to urgent care for the first time.
Yeah, home for a mere six days and already we were looking for help -- the kind that wields stethoscopes and dispenses drugs.
No reason to be too alarmed, though; it was nothing serious, but it sure was icky.
The other day we noticed a little gunk forming in Elise's left eye. Oh, that is a typical blocked tear duct, right? That's what we thought.
That's also what a nurse at the hospital suggested when I brought it up during a follow-up call Saturday. (How about this for irony: the hospital tries to gently nudge you out the door as soon as mom can walk and baby is eating, but then hospital nurses call repeatedly once you are home to make sure everything is OK.)
When we went to bed last night, Elise's eye had more gunk in it. She lacked the other symptoms of a cold or infection. Her temperature was normal. Her eye was not swollen. She was eating.
But by early this morning it looked as though her eye had been slimed, a la Ghostbusters. It was sealed shut. She looked bad and appeared a bit lethargic. A nurse suggested we get her in to see a pediatrician today.
It's Sunday. Clinics are not open. Our only option? Urgent care.
Turns out, of course, that was the only option for throngs of other ill folks, young and old. We waited an hour to see the doctor, spending that time in a clinic lobby that might as well be called the Cough Factory. We wondered whether Elise would leave the clinic sicker than she was when we arrived.
Anyway, long story short: The goop in her eye is from an infection, which we suspected, and now we have the pleasure of applying an ointment to the base of her eye. She squirms during diaper changes, so imagine her response when you try to "create a well at the base of her eye and apply 1 cm of ointment."
Not fun, but after one application her eye does not look any worse than it did this morning.
I'll spare you photos of her progress.

A week and a day

Elise is eight days old today.
On Friday, she went to her first post-hospital-stay doctor visit, a one-week check-up.
It's still an experiment getting somewhere on time. Anni used to just have to wait for me to eat and get ready. Now, of course, we've got to get the little one ready to go.
Anyway, everything went fine at the doctor's office. Elise had gained a few ounces since she was weighed a day earlier and she had grown a half-inch in her first week. She has good coloring and complexion -- like Mom -- and good motor skills -- like Dad? -- and a pair of healthy lungs.
She does not test the limits of those lungs often, usually crying only when she is hungry.
Speaking of being hungry, she is getting predictable about that, which is nice for us. She generally is feeding every three hours day and night. Sure, that's eight times a day -- including a couple of late-night wake-ups for Anni -- but at least we kind of know when she will want to eat. I'm sure that will change when we least expect it, though.
Anni visits her doctor next week and while we're there the nurse will weigh Elise again to see whether she still is gaining weight. That may determine whether we continue supplementing her feedings with formula.

We're home. 'It'll do'

The three of us -- it's still strange to use that phrase -- left the hospital early Tuesday afternoon, making a beeline for home because, well, what new parent wants to dilly-dally with a newborn in the car and threats of an apocalyptic blizzard outside?
The roads were fine, the short drive home uneventful.
Anni gave Elise a quick tour of the house. They ended back in the kitchen.
"She says, 'It'll do,'" Anni said.
I think we had a pretty typical first day at home with a newborn. Anni is feeding, but also supplementing with formula because Elise's weight had dropped in the first two days and we're trying to rebound. She had gained a few ounces in the 24 hours before we left the hospital. Hopefully that trend is continuing.
We've been home for a day and I've already lost track of the number of diapers changed and feedings given -- and I slept through half of them, with Anni doing the hard work. She deserves a Best New Mom award. Me? At my best I'd be in the running for Honorable Mention in the general parenting category. If nothing else, I'd get an award for Participation, like when on elementary school field day you get a ribbon for showing up, despite the fact that you could not complete the run and you filled your mouth and shorts with sand on the long jump.
Anyway, Elise has been a good baby so far. She sleeps well after a feeding, gets fussy when she's hungry, stares with eyes wide open just when we are most tired and cries when she's filled her diaper.
Oh, the diaper changing. Wow. This little one spares you the guessing game of trying to determine whether she's had a "BM," as nurse-types call it. I was nearly floored by the odor. As bad as it is, at least we know when it's time to change a diaper.
I think we made the right decision by insisting that we would take no visitors the first -- and maybe second -- day home. Too much commotion. We're getting into a routine, which is good, especially for me because structure and predictability are my friends.
I know, I know. The only thing predictable about newborns are that they are unpredictable. We'll see if that's the case in the coming days and weeks.

The smirk

I want to use the blog for videos as well. This is my first attempt.
Even after watching this nearly a dozen times, I still get a kick out of it. I was trying to record Elise's odd hiccups, but got something funnier. (Full disclosure: I'm sure Dad finds this funnier than most other people will. Still.) It's about 21 seconds. Make sure you watch the final few seconds.

She's here

We had a baby -- a girl -- at 9:12 a.m. Friday.
The day started a bit earlier than that, though.
We had to be at the hospital by 6:30 a.m. so Anni could be prepped for the c-section. The docs and nurses were great in explaining the procedure to us before surgery. They gave me a sneak peek at the operating room before Anni went in and I got my marching orders.
"You'll walk in and go right to the head of the operating table," a nurse said. "You'll stand there for the entire delivery. Oh, and you won't touch anything." (Really? Because I was hoping to lend a hand.)
It really is true that dads just get in the way during pre-delivery and delivery. Everywhere I stood, a nurse needed to be. I'd move to a corner of the pre-surgery room, thinking I'd be out of the way, but a nurse would need something. I'd move somewhere else, but the nurse would find something else she needed.
Finally, I just sat down in a chair on the other side of the room, armed myself with two cameras and started shooting photos of Anni before the surgery.
They rolled Anni in at about 8:30 a.m. and gave her a "spinal," numbing her from chest down. (I had two stiff drinks at home the night before and they worked just as well and did not require a shot in the back.) Her doc, who has seen her for nine months and insisted on doing the c-section, actually sat at her side and chatted with her while waiting for the drugs to kick in.
Great bedside manner? Check.
I was pretty sure they had forgotten about me because after about 15 or 20 minutes I could hear the docs finish scrubbing their hands and walk into the operating room. Meanwhile, I was still in the pre-surgery room waiting for an escort into the operating room.
Eventually, a nurse brought me in. I did as told, walking right to the head of the bed. Anni was awake and alert, but obviously blocked from viewing the procedure.
From my angle, I could see the docs using knives and scissors and pulling tools and suction tubes and their hands. From under the blue curtain, Anni only could see a doctor's shadow.
"It's like my own puppet show," she said. I would say that was the medication talking, but she digs puppet shows.
After about 10 minutes, I watched as one of the doctors lifted the baby out of Anni's belly. The baby seemed a little too blue right away, making me a little nervous, but within moments it let out a small cry. The doc held up the baby and I just stared. It was all very surreal -- a baby being held in mid-air while doctors and nurses scurried around in the background. It was so surreal, in fact, that I almost forgot to tell Anni the baby was delivered.
We decided that since Anni would not be able to see the baby the moment it was delivered, I would tell her the sex, rather than having the nurses blurt it out.
"We have a girl," I said simply.
They put the baby under the warmer to clean her and check vitals. Thinking about it now, I would have preferred they just wrapped her up and set her on Anni's chest and delayed the vital check.
I stood next to the warmer, staring at a baby just minutes old. There she was. Out of the belly. Two arms. Two legs -- lanky legs. A 21-inch-long body. Full fingernails. Long toes. Eyes that peeked earlier than I thought they would. A head of dark brown hair. A healthy cry.
Anni had to wait several minutes before she got to spend some time with the baby, but she could hear her and she was aware of what was going on.
A nurse weighed the baby and told me she was 9 pounds, 5 ounces.
"Anni, she's nine pounds, five ounces," I said.
"Nine pounds, five ounces? Holy shit," was Anni's response from across the room. I would say that was the medication talking...
They wrapped up the baby and I brought her over for Anni to see. We sat down at the head of the operating table and eventually a doc helped put the baby on Anni's chest.

We discussed names a bit more. We had narrowed down the first name to either Julia or Elise. When it came down to it, though, this girl was an Elise. We settled on that.
Before heading up to the nursery for some blood-sugar tests (It started low, but climbed to normal levels after a little sugar water.) I stepped out into a waiting area and let the family know all was well -- but did not tell them whether it was a boy or girl. Anni wanted to do that and I selfishly relished the fact that for a short time, only Anni and I knew we had a girl.

As the baby and I went to the nursery, Anni was getting stitched up. About a half-hour later, we went downstairs and met Anni in a recovery room, where a nice nurse took the first "family photo." Being picky about pictures, I made the nurse feel bad when I looked at the photo she took and said: "That's fine. We can take another later." I just meant that it would work as an early snapshot and that we would get more taken once we get to Anni's patient room. She took it to mean that her photo was garbage. You decide.

Anni recovered quickly from the anesthesia. Before long we were getting situated in her patient room. Little Elise Louise (Louise is Anni's and her mother's middle name) was cute from the very beginning. No wrinkly old man. No scrunched face. No screaming. She slept for much of the day, even as she was passed from one set of grandparents to the other before being coddled by other relatives.


The day flew by and it was overwhelming. Exhausting, too. But there we were, new parents to a healthy baby girl.

It was a good feeling -- especially because I had not yet changed her diaper.

Welcome

Elise Louise Wente

Born: 9:12 a.m. March 6
Weight: 9 lbs 5 oz
Length: 21 inches

3.6.9

No, that's not my e-mail password. That's when we expect Bun to arrive.
We just got back from the doctor's office. No major surprises this time, but we did have to decide how to get this baby out.
The doctor said Anni was not dilated and the baby is not positioned as though it's ready to come out on its own. Since Anni's at about 42 weeks, the doctor said the two options are induction and C-section. He explained both scenarios again, but also said that due to the narrow pelvic bone, natural birth would be unlikely.
We opted for a C-section, which means Anni will not have to go through hours and hours of induction and painful exams -- only to find out a C-section will be needed after all. It is scheduled for early Friday. Anni's doctor will do the surgery himself, which is something we were hoping for.
It was not the easiest decision we have made, but thankfully we're still looking at nothing unusual.
The baby's heart rate was fine. The doctor predicts it will weigh between 8 lbs. and 8 1/2 lbs. Anni's belly was 43 cm, meaning it grew 3 cm in the past week.
"It's not a tiny baby," the doctor said.
So, we're expecting Friday to be the day and looking forward to it.
We'll keep you posted.

'You're still here?'

Here's a gentle suggestion for anybody who works with someone very pregnant and past her due date: If she shows up for work, still carrying a baby, don't keep asking her, "You're still here?"
Anni's been getting plenty of that in the past week as she continues to work while awaiting the onset of labor, whether it be contractions or any other sign that Bun is even thinking about making an exit.
We'll get a better idea of when this baby's coming after a doctor's appointment this afternoon. Anni either will be induced beginning tonight or will go in for a C-section Friday. Or, perhaps, there will be a new twist.
I'll update the blog when we get a better idea of what's happening the next few days.
In the meantime, Anni's headed to work this morning, where she no doubt will hear:
"You're still here?"