Friday Flashback

Look at these little ones from Milo's first birthday party.

Milo

Caden

Kaylee

Robbie

Darian

Abi and Braeden

The same kids a year later, at Milo's second birthday party.

Milo

Caden

Kaylee

Robbie

Darian

Abi

Braeden

2 years

Dear Milo,

Happy birthday, my wonderful boy! It's hard to believe you joined our world just two years ago. My, how the time has flown.

Birthday cake!

 Sometimes the world is a scary ugly place (like the incident at the Boston Marathon), but when I look at you, life makes sense. You make everything better. I never knew I could love someone with such intensity and selflessness. In fact, I never knew I could be selfless at all. But I would give you anything I have to give.

You are smart and cute and you have an amazing sense of humor for such a small person. You make me laugh all the time. Over the past two years, I have written you monthly letters to mark your milestones. Looking back through those letters and all the photos I have taken, I am so proud of you. I'm so proud to be your mom.

Swinging with Dada at The Little Gym

We threw you a big party at The Little Gym, with lots of kids and grown ups. Everyone had a good time. Your Aunt D came from Kansas to spend time with you, and you learned to call her DeeDee instead of "uncle." You showed off your letter-reading skills and let her spoil you rotten. You got lots of great presents and had some yummy cake. But I don't think birthdays mean a whole lot to you yet. You're just happy to have lots of toys to play with and new books to read. All the great clothes Aunt DeeDee got you mean more to me -- you won't have to go naked this summer.

My first glimpse of you

I often feel like the day you were born was the day my real life started, like everything before that was just practice. I spent a lot of years not knowing I wanted you. Now that you're here, I can't imagine life without you.

We have a lot of adventures to take together. I look forward to them all. Happy birthday, Milo. I love you more than words can ever express.

Love,
Mama

Friday Flashback

Milo's first birthday party. His second birthday party is this weekend. Where did this year go?

Friday Flashback

Milo was jaundiced when he was born -- apparently a fairly common occurrence in Colorado. ("In Colorado babies are 39 percent more likely to have newborn jaundice compared to newborns born at sea level.") He slept in a light bed at the hospital. We called him our little Tron baby.

Wordy Wednesday

(I noticed my "typo" on the sign a few minutes after dropping Grandpa's birthday card and this photo into the mailbox. So much for my years of editing and proofreading. But hey, it's still awfully damn cute. Right?)

Daddy Talk: Birthdays

This week was my 37th birthday, Pam made me Biscuits and Gravy yum. Milo's first was last month. It was the 70th for a person who I consider an aunt. We went to the birthday and introduced Milo to her and her husband. They were friends of my parents since I was a wee babe and it was nice being able to introduce my son to people who were at one time close to my parents, particularly my parents. I don't know why I didn't do it sooner.

I keep thinking there will always be time to do these things. Those days and years are zipping away so fast and so are the opportunities. One of my sad memories is telling my dad that we lost our first child to miscarriage. It wasn't long after that he passed away. I don't know if regret is the right emotion for it all. Its not something I would have wanted to keep from him but I wished we could have given him good news with his grandson. 

Too many regrets.

1 year

Dear Milo,

You are snoozing away right now, after a full weekend with parties and friends and cake. Then you had another long day today.

You spent the first part of the last month getting over a nasty infection. Despite that, you have changed so much. You now walk everywhere.

You have started saying, "All done" and signing "milk" in context. You aren't a baby anymore. You are such a big boy. You aren't content to just sit around -- whether it's at home or in stores. When we have to go shopping, you'd rather push the cart than sit in it.

You're such a little flirt. You are now much friendlier with everybody, even though you still don't much like other people holding you.

You make me laugh every day. I wish I could bottle your giggles for a rainy day. You are so sweet and make me feel like I'm the greatest thing since sliced bed. You light up when you see me, and it makes me melt.

We had such a good time celebrating your birthday. We had a party at The Little Gym because you love it there so much. It makes me smile just to see how happy you get doing simple things.

Bubbles and balls are some of your favorite things.

I'm pretty sure you knew the day was all about you.

This past year has been the most amazing, exhilarating, exhausting, joyous, life-affirming 12 months I've ever experienced. For every frustration, there are at least a dozen things that make me thankful beyond words that I'm your mommy. You are the greatest blessing of my life. I wouldn't trade one second of the past year for anything in the world.

Happy birthday, my little miracle man. I love you beyond measure.

Love,

Mommy

Daddy talk: Birthday party edition

I had been debating on whether or not to invite my mom to the kiddie portion of our planned 1st birthday party at The Little Gym. My mom tends to be a clean freak that likes to monopolize the time with the boy and not let him have fun. I had been debating it a lot and decided to just invite her. I did do it the day before as she was already invited to the other 1st party at the house.

Anyhow, I called her up the Saturday before and asked if she wanted to come. She said she couldn't come because my brother wouldn't get off until 2 p.m. that day. I said no problem, I would pick her up and my brother could take her back home. Back and forth we went, finally she said she'd give my brother a call to figure out the details and that she would call back. She never did. 

I figured she wasn't into the idea of The Little Gym, which really wasn't a terrible thing. It wasn't terrible until 5 O'clock rolled around. By that time we were an hour into the second party and my mother and brother were a no show. I gave her a call and she promptly answered. My first question is are you coming to Milo's birthday party?  She said yes, then I told her again that it was on Sunday, actually my words were that the party was right now. She was surprised, thinking that the party was on his actual birthday. Same story with my brother. My brother had been in the loop on both parties for weeks now. Either way my family who lives in town were a no show to my son's first birthday while Pam's aunt came all the way from Manhattan, KS.

Anyway, I know the boy won't remember and I will not be seething over it long term but there will never be any pictures of my family at his birthday parties. Sucks a bit.

It's been one week

One week ago today, I was laying in a hospital room, recovering from -- and reveling in -- the birth of my son.

He is perfect.

A million different emotions bubbled through my brain as I lay, mostly immobile, in my bed. I have been asked to share my birth story here, so if that kind of thing grosses you out or bores you to tears, please click away. Because this ain't going to be pretty.

*** Last chance to turn back! ***

April 15, I awoke just after midnight feeling crampy and like I needed to move my bowels (if you're still reading, and this bothers you, I implore you to stop, because it will get worse). I got up and did just that, thinking I would tease my friend her cooking made me sick. Except, then I woke again about once an hour the rest of the night, feeling the same way but without the same results.

About 5 a.m., I propped myself up in bed and put in my ear buds to listen to an audio book for a while. The cramps had not let up and had only settled all the deeper into my lower back. I started watching the clock and noticed the "cramps" (as I was now thinking of them) were intensifying about every 10 to 15 minutes.

At 6 a.m., I woke the S.O. and told him I was in labor. Much to my delight, the S.O. reacted in typical sit-com father mode. He jumped out of bed, still mostly asleep, asking, "What do we need to do?!?" I told him he needed to relax, in fact, he could go back to sleep for a while, because it was early but I might need him soon. He did calm down, but he got up and finished some last minute things for work.

By about 7:30 a.m., I was in some pretty serious pain, so we called the OB Triage at the hospital where I would be delivering. The nurse I spoke to was calm and helpful. Because I had my regular weekly appointment with my OB at 10:30 that morning, the nurse told me my goal was to make it to that appointment, so my doc could assess me. The nurse told me to take some Tylenol and a warm bath. She said it wouldn't relieve the pain by any means, but it would relax me and take the edge off. By this point that edge was pretty damn sharp.

Waiting for my doctor's appointment

I took her advice, downed two extra-strength Tylenol and drew a warm bath. The S.O. sat next to me and talked to me about random stuff, and the time of my doctor's appointment came pretty quickly.

My OB confirmed that I was indeed in labor -- dilated to 4 cm -- and could go to the hospital whenever I wanted to. At this point, I still thought I would go home and go for a walk or sit on my stability ball or do some other movements to ease labor. We stopped on the way to get the S.O. some lunch. As he sat at the kitchen table, trying to enjoy said lunch, I sat on the stability ball in the living room. Sitting on the ball felt like someone had stabbed me in the back. People say that all the time, but this pain was so sharp and so strong that I had to go down on my knees whimpering. The S.O. would get two bites of his cheeseburger before I would call him back to me to put counter-pressure on my spine. It helped but I was in real pain now -- all of it concentrated in my lower back and none of it what I had at all expected from contractions.

I made the S.O. finish his lunch and gather any last minute supplies, and we made the 10-minute trip to the hospital. We used the free valet parking and the S.O. sent for a wheelchair. I wanted to walk but gave in because I could barely make it to the bench 5 feet away. I clutched my pillow as the S.O. wheeled me in to the elevator then down the hall to labor and delivery. I got into a gown and waited for the OB Triage nurse to assess me. It was about 12:30 p.m. April 15, and I was 6 cm dilated. My contractions were still about 10 minutes apart, but every other one was followed at two minutes by an aftershock (as we called them). The S.O. was still applying counter-pressure and telling me what a good job I was doing. The pain was awful and still not what I thought it would be. Where were the "menstrual-like cramps" I'd been told I would have. Where was that early labor feeling of euphoria I'd read about. We'd skipped right to the mind-blowing, blinding pain of the stereotypical labor depicted by television and the movies.

All thoughts of walking around to progress labor were gone. I could barely stand let alone walk. The S.O. was already getting a little tired from having to massage my back almost constantly. So, when they asked about pain medications -- despite my earlier desire to avoid them -- I said yes, please and now, please.

I felt a little like a failure and a lot like a wimp and began making excuses for why I needed the drugs. The S.O. admitted to being a bit disappointed that all the skills he'd practiced in our birth class would not be put to use (they still were) but assured me I wasn't a wimp or a failure. And every woman who knew I was in back labor told me it was the absolute worse. The anesthesiologist said it's extremely hard to relieve, too.

Stuck in bed, but where else was I going to go?

But the drugs worked -- for a while. I continued to progress at about 1 cm per hour and the back pain would increase until it was almost as bad as before the drugs. I would get a bolus of the medication and the pains would ease for a while before spiking again an hour or so later.

In the meantime, the doctor came to see me. She's my regular OB's partner and was just as wonderful. She did an exam and broke my water. She told me I was fully dilated. She also told me Baby was "sunny side up," meaning his face was pointed toward my front and his spine was laying along my spine. Which accounted for the back pain. It also meant he wasn't coming out easily. After much pain and struggling, the doctor got Baby to turn to the side. However, after a few contractions, he turned back and I had some swelling and went back to about 8 cm.

I received more drugs, including pitocin to help move labor along and more waiting. The anesthesiologist was finally able to get the pain under control so I sent the S.O. to the couch for a nap, and I dozed, as well, between nurses checking vital signs and administering oxygen.

Childbirth may be beautiful, but my look in the hospital, not so much

When the doctor came back in, she said Baby was still facing up but we could push him out that way. It would just be harder and take longer. She said there was a possibility of a C-section but we would push first

The S.O. and I had a short discussion about a C-section, deciding that we just wanted a healthy baby and it didn't really matter how he got here. Still, there was a part of me that hoped if I got psyched up to have a C-section, the doc would come back in and tell us I'd be able to push him out.

When the doctor came back in, she did say it was time to push. However, she said we'd try pushing for about an hour, then see where Baby was and make a decision. With the S.O. helping me hold up one leg (which, by now, was completely numb and felt like holding up a piece of wood) and the labor nurse helping me hold the other, I pushed and pushed and pushed through each contraction. Thanks to my new best friend, the anesthesiologist, the doctor had to watch the monitor and tell me when a contraction was coming and when I needed to push.

I also had lost track of time so I don't know exactly how long I pushed, but after 30 or 40 minutes or so of pushing the doctor said Baby hadn't moved down to where he needed to be. She gave us the option of trying to push for another 30 minutes to see if Baby would move down then. But her professional opinion was that he would not move because he hadn't yet. Her concerns were that I and Baby would be worn out and would still have to go through a C-section. The S.O. and I decided to go ahead with the C-section.

I signed papers and the S.O. got prepped.

What all the new daddies are wearing this spring

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. The only surgery I've ever had was when I was 19 and had my wisdom teeth removed. This is nothing like that. Being rolled into the bright, sterile room without the S.O. by my side didn't help matters. Once they had me on the table and prepped, he was allowed in. He sat next to me behind the curtain, but it wasn't long before he asked, "Can I stand up and watch?"

"Do you want to watch?" I asked. Obviously, he did. He stood up and looked over the curtain, fascinated. He started to give me a blow-by-blow account of the surgery, but I asked him not to. Someday, I will be OK with hearing more about having my guts laid out, but right now, I'd rather just believe it was a clean and easy process and voila! Here's Milo!

They took Milo to a warming table where the S.O. trimmed the cord, then they brought him over for me to see. Milo was naked and squirming and crying and beautiful. Once he was cleaned and covered, I got to have a closer look.

I couldn't -- can't -- believe how perfect he is.

After, I lay in the delivery room shivering. Hormones and endorphins and lots of other things contributed to me feeling like I was freezing to death. They covered me with warmed blankets and took me to recovery. Meanwhile, the S.O. went with the nurses to weigh Milo. 

He was 7 pounds, 4 1/2 ounces at birth.

After I could wiggle my toes, I was transferred to my room, where I got to spend time with the S.O. (when I wasn't drifting off to sleep from all the drugs). It was about 5 a.m. -- almost 24 hours after I told the S.O. we were having a baby. My mood was good. Despite my exhaustion, I was able to get up soon after and have my I.V. and catheter removed.

I soon began feeding Milo and bonding with him. Also, I got all the Jello I could eat.

Can you tell how much I love him?

I really didn't want a C-section and I really don't recommend them. I'm still sore. Still taking pain meds and still exhausted from the surgery on top of taking care of a newborn. But it was worth it. No matter how he got here, he's here. It's amazing.

It's been one week, and it's already hard to remember life without him.

Meet Milo

Sorry for the silence here at 40-Something First Timer, but a lot has happened in the last week. In fact, the entire reason for this blog happened: Milo joined our family April 16, 2011 at 1:51 a.m. (My prediction missed by *that* much.) He weighed in at 7 pounds, 4 1/2 ounces and was 20 inches long.

He had to be brought into this world through a C-section due to his stubbornness to not face the right direction and to not drop into position. Any birth plan I had was thrown completely out the window with back labor (I will share my birth story in another post.) Still, it was all worth it when I saw my son for the first time. I am so in love with him.

Stay tuned for more pictures than you can stand and lots of stories about our first week as a family.

43 years ago today ...

I was born, and it was the coldest day on record, according to my parents. For as long as I can remember, I've heard about this -- either from Mom or (more recently) Dad. And sure enough, Dad called this morning to wish me a happy birthday and tell me about the weather on that long ago day.

Your humble blogger, aged 1 year

It was so cold, he told me, that I had to be put in an incubator to warm up. It's kind of neat to hear the story about the day I was born, but Mom never really shared more about that day. I don't know if it was a difficult labor. I was a pretty big baby -- 8 pounds, 10 ounces -- but I was her fourth. (Weird fact about my family: My oldest brother was premature, weighing just 4 pounds, 13 ounces, but the next two weighed 8 pounds, 8 ounces and 8 pounds, 9 ounces. I guess she was building up to her big baby.)

I don't have any sisters so I don't really have a female relative to ask about her labor. My sisters-in-law had a mixed bag of experiences -- and I blame my nieces' and nephews' big heads (oh, it's fine, they know I love them). I really wish I knew more about my mom's experiences. I know that drugs were different back then. Mothers weren't really supposed to experience childbirth, so maybe it wouldn't help to know what she went through.

Mostly, I just wish I could talk to her today and thank her for going through it for me.