100 Days Into My Son's Life - Here's What I've Learned and Loved

100 or so days ago my son came into my life. I've learned and loved a lot in these days. In fact, I'd say I've learned and loved 100 things...

1. I've learned each day just how impressive my wife was during the two-month stretch she was feeding him overnight and during the day every two hours.

2. I love it when I'm a zombie leaning over my son's crib to pick him up for a 1 am diaper change and feeding, he cracks a smile that briefly reminds me it's not really 1 am or 2 am or 3 am...

3. I've learned that raising a baby is a spectacular challenge whose rewards match its difficulty.

4. I love that my wife has given me the chance to provide full-time daycare to our son.

5. I've learned just how fortunate I am to have this opportunity as a SAHD.

6. I love how he's learned to grab objects when he wants to grab them.

7. I've learned that all parents should immediately add "logistics management" to their resumes.

8. I weirdly love that he produces so many bubbling gallons of drool that I think he's in the spectrum for rabies instead of early teething.

9. I've learned that having the energy to blog, play PS3, research fantasy football, and teach myself piano is hard to find between my son and I getting sleep, giving him playtime, both of us getting fed, me washing bottles, and getting my own exercise.

10. I love the huge sigh he shares when he feels it's okay to rest his head on my shoulder.

11. I've learned that baby clothes for boys are boring compared the numerous combinations for girls especially when you talk about hair accessories.

12. I love the pterodactyl-like sounds he makes when I'm not playing with him.

13. I've learned that changing a diaper after a blowout isn't as bad as Mr. Mom would have you believe.

It isn't THAT bad if you move fast enough.

14. I love that my son now holds his head up with very little trouble, allowing me to pick him up and carry him around that much easier.

15. I've learned that putting a diaper on correctly to avoid a blowout is as important as making sure you're wearing pants during a late-night infant Tylenol run.

16. I love how he gives all of his attention to my wife when she sings him a song with her great voice.

17. I've learned it's a good thing he looks away when I sing him a song because I can't sing.

18. I love hearing people tell me he looks just like me.

19. I've learned that having your mind taken over by a baby is a real thing, causing me to forget important dates like wishing my parents a happy anniversary. Happy anniversary!

20. I love the smell of my son after bathing him and putting some baby lotion on his skin.

21. I've learned that to "sleep when the baby sleeps" is a sweet thought, but that just means he'll wake up 15 minutes after I finally doze off.

22. I love seeing that he has been in the 99th percentile for height from day one.

23. I've learned that being in the 99th percentile for height from day one means outgrowing clothes and diapers quicker than we can put them on him.

He's growing like this oak tree!

24. I love seeing my son reach for his foot on purpose and hold on for dear life.

25. I've learned that the best way to accidentally wake up any baby is to brew a cup of coffee, pour milk into a bowl of cereal, or really make any food for yourself.

26. I love making silly faces at my son while in public and entering a world that only he and I live in and understand.

27. I've learned that washing a cloth diaper after a poop isn't the end of the world.

28. I love hearing a deep, guttural burp from my son during feeding.

29. I've learned that with some of those deep, guttural burps I get to see a few ounces of his meal again.

30. I love that we keep an emergency bottle nipple in the diaper bag.

31. I've learned that saying my son had a poop sounds better when I say he just gave me a big hug in his diaper.

32. I love how my son knows where the baby monitor camera is and stares into it and my soul in search of a diaper, food, and love.

33. I've learned that if your son flails his legs for fun, it's not good to lay his head on your knees and his feet at your groin.

34. I love how my son recently learned to bring his hands together like a James Bond villain.

35. I've learned that placing your son on your newly-shaved chest will leave red marks on him that look like rashes.

36. I love being able to tell the nurse who last week asked, "Is today daddy's day?", that "every day is daddy's day."

37. I've learned that my son has learned the art of stoically "hugging" me and revels in the time it takes for me to smell another one of his signs of affection.

38. I love knowing that if I can handle cleaning my son after a blowout by changing him in my car without getting any of it on any thing, then I can clean him anywhere.

That's not a diaper bag, it's a poo(h) bag!  Hahahaha!

39. I've learned that making sure the diaper bag is ready is always worth doing, even if you think you didn't use any supplies yesterday.

40. I love the tuft of hair in the back of my son's head giving him the only mullet he'll ever have (if I can help it).

41. I've learned to love that my son stays where I put him on the floor....for now.

42. I love that I can defeat my son in a thumb war whenever I want.

43. I've learned that if rocking climbing walls used male nipples for grips, my son would already be a world champion climber.

44. I love that pictures from three months ago are now considered old.

45. I've learned that it isn't very easy to break into stay-at-home-mom groups when you're a SAHD.

46. I love that my son takes his longest daytime naps on my chest.

47. I've learned that my son has an extra pitch and volume for crying when he gets his regular shots from the doctor.

48. I love that this mega-cry is short-lived and the event is entirely forgotten by the next hour.

49. I've learned that the hardest thing to do to a baby is cut their fingernails; so I let my wife bite them herself to avoid repeated painful cuts.

50. I love that I'm still able to rock my son against me while I'm sitting down. An inch more and he's too long for my torso.

51. I've learned that starting one load of laundry each day is enough to celebrate like I've climbed a mountain.

Exactly my point!

52. I love having a trashcan in the nursery that actually keeps odors inside.

53. I've learned that despite having multiple pacifiers/binkees around the house, I'll never find one when my son is crying and needs it most.

54. I love it when my son sneezes.

55. I've learned that the likelihood and quantity of spit up increases with the quality of the clothes I'm wearing.

56. I love that when my son has the hiccups, he doesn't cry.

57. I've learned that it's okay to start drinking coffee each morning in order to function before crashing for an afternoon nap.

58. I love that morning cup of coffee.

59. I've learned that house projects just don't get done with a newborn and that's okay.

60. I love my son's toothless smile.

Sorry Mike Ricci, but a toothless smile is only cute when you're young.

61. I've learned that my son has no shame letting gas come out of either end, no matter how close my face is to either of those ends.

62. I love that he can move each toe individually.

63. I've learned that unsolicited advice comes with having a child and that it's a good idea to roll your eyes in your mind and not in reality to the person's face.

64. I love how small socks are for babies.

65. I've learned that socks for babies only exist for them to be kicked off and lost on a walk around town.

66. I love that his foot is now just as long as my thumb.

67. I've learned that when pulling back diaper lining to check for a hug, you shouldn't and don't need to go more than 1/2 centimeter in to see what's lurking.

68. I love that a bowl of oatmeal retains its heat long enough for me to change my son's diaper and feed him.

69. I've learned that it's great having podcasts to listen to during early morning feedings while rocking my son to sleep.

70. I love how my son's eyes turn marble blue when he looks up at the sky and trees.

71. I've learned how powerful guilt can be when another parent suggests adding a blanket to my son "so he doesn't get cold."

72. I love how deep he sleeps when he's riding in a baby carrier against my chest.

73. I've learned that shaving my chest hair is key to stopping my son from providing me with instant pain when he's doing pull-ups.

74. I love that my son frustrates himself by pulling out his binkee without knowing it's his fault.

75. I've learned that cleaning bottles and pumping parts ensures there will always be another chore I could do.

Looks like my setup, it's just missing the bag used to steam the parts.

76. I love how hard he tries to learn new things and the grunt he shares when it doesn't work.

77. I've learned that air conditioning in the car is for the baby's comfort and only the baby's comfort.

78. I love the dimples on his pudgy elbows.

79. I've learned that my son doesn't mind sleeping on his ear when it's folded over for at least an hour.

80. I love how he gets stuck halfway when trying to rollover and he's content with that.

81. I've learned that we are never more flexible than we are as babies.

My son had better enjoy his flexibility while he can.

82. I love when he tries to grip things with his toes.

83. I've learned that combing dandruff out of my son's hair only creates more dandruff.

84. I love that I can stay still for longer than I thought possible just to keep my son sleeping on me; lower back pain be dammed!

85. I've learned that in the last week how sleep regression is a very real thing and I should've appreciated sleeping through the night a whole lot more.

86. I love that my son finds the webbing between my thumb and forefinger the world's most comfortable pillow.

87. I've learned that getting out the door to go anywhere takes at least twice as long as you think, even if you think you prepared the night before.

88. I love that prayers about parents and their children now apply to me.

89. I've learned that gaining as much weight as my son has so he doesn't have a body image issue is not healthy for me.

90. I love learning about being a parent with on-the-job training.

91. I've learned that it's impossible to reach the bottom of folds in my son's neck during a bath.

Once you place a wash cloth in my son's neck folds, it will never be seen again.

92. I love that eating a box of Cheez-Its is always an option for lunch; albeit not a good one.

93. I've learned that a distracted baby does not feed well.

94. I love knowing we are well stocked with infant Tylenol.

95. I've learned that getting in touch with all of my son's bodily fluids (spit, snot, pee, hugs, and spit up) in one day is not something to brag about.

96. I love storytime at the library because it gets me to shave, shower, and change into (temporarily) stain free clothes.

97. I've learned not to expect any of my comfy, around the house t-shirts to survive my son's first two years.

98. I love it when I change a diaper before that feeling of fresh air causes my son to take aim and fire upon me.

99. I've learned to be thankful for so much to love.

100. I love that my wife gave me a wonderful son to add to our family.

A Baby Boy's Bathing Battle

Call me Ishmael. Or just a stay-at-home-dad, that's fine with me too.

I'm here to gloat for learning a new task and now I want my due.

For I battled a mighty beast whose flailing limbs he had no control,

Making it through this without tears from him - this was my goal.

My wife did the deed three times before and found great success,

Now it was time for me to learn how to clean our son after a mess.

Oh how his fresh face wailed and pinged my ears with such great fury,

All taking place before he was undressed and already full of worry.

I cleared the kitchen sink and counter of any items that could pose a danger,

Then gathered a towel, some washcloths, and baby soap; this was no manger.

I plugged the sink and ran the water until it warmed to the right temp,

Then removed his diaper and hoped he wouldn't get verklempt.

I placed him in the three inches of water while his cries continued,

He didn't like what was coming his way; it wasn't time for tissues.

I placed some fingers under his far armpit and used my wrist to support his head,

I learned the technique from my wife, "Oh you're doing great," is what she said.

Then I realized why he was paining my heart with his very loud chord,

He was on the pointy sink stopper, so I covered it with a plastic cutting board.

I soaped up a washcloth to clean his limbs, torso, and each nook and cranny,

Then I cleared him with a cascade from the sprayer; gotta clean his fanny.

I dabbed soap on his face so it would remain baby smooth and baby soft,

Then I cleaned his scalp and his hair; can you tell I'm no Robert Frost?

I turned off the water, gave him a smile, and carried him to the kitchen table,

Where I wrapped him in a fresh towel that instantly soothed and made him stable.

He gave me a sigh, flashed his blue eyes, and may have cracked a sweet, loving smile,

As I quickly applied a fresh diaper, now that he was clean, making this worthwhile.

Feeling confident with this babycare task considering that I didn't completely fail,

I'm ready to improve future battles with this great beast that will occasionally wail.

Sacrificing Friendship for a Newborn

My great friend and I had so many memories growing up together.  We shared so many experiences, events, and places that we were inseparable.  We stuck together like glue and I didn't want to go anywhere without him by my side; I was happy to have him in front and lead the way.  He was that kind of friend.

We met when I was a teenager during those awkward years called puberty and I haven't regretted being introduced in the 20 years since.  He has been a confidant who didn't question my choices, both good and bad, and didn't judge me with each of my life's turns.  He was that kind of friend.

During the cold winter months in the northeast he'd join me to throw snowballs, build snowmen, and swing our limbs to make angels on the ground.  In the summer he protected me from the sun, making sure I wasn't alone in wearing gallons of sunscreen just to play outside for 30 minutes.  He curled away from humidity, but put up with it to be in my company.  He was that kind of friend.

My friendship lasted many winters, springs, summers, and falls...

But 20 years of great friendship has a way of eroding when communication decreases, geography gets in the way, life events occur, and shared experiences don't come as easily.  My friend and I survived all of these except my most recent life event and the impetus for this blog.  He was that kind of friend.

My son is now one month old and doesn't know right from wrong, right from left, and write from well, anything in the world.  He curls his toes, wrinkles his forehead, and smiles without thinking.  He's surprised by sneezes, farts, burps, sneezes, and hiccups.  He also grabs without purpose; something my friend could not stand.  He was that kind of friend.

I paid the price whenever my son came in contact with my friend.  My son would grab, tug, and pull on him and it hurt me.  My son slobbered on him, spit up on him, and even peed on him.  My old friend deserved better.  Call it jealousy or what you want, but my son had no trouble making me pay the price for my 20-year friendship.  I had to decide between my son, my comfort, and a friendship's value.

I chose my son and my comfort and shaved my chest hair.

A Magic Trick That Works Without Explanation

My son is now three weeks old, doing well, and I have no clue why.

Oh, we're feeding him on demand, changing his diapers, giving him skin-to-skin contact, spending quality tummy time, holding him in our arms, singing and talking to him, watching him sleep during the day and night, and laughing with each sign he has his father's petulance for flatulence.  These are all things we should be doing as first-time, or anytime, parents.  I get that.

What I don't get is how he's a functioning newborn.  How all of his organs and body parts create and process his blood, urine, and stool.  How his lungs and heart pump blood and receive oxygen over and over and over again.  How his brain works to make him cry for food, a diaper change, or an extra blanket.  How he has tiny bones that allow him to curl his fingers and toes.

How his eyes focus on our faces or a picture on the wall to bring him relief.  How his fingers, arms, and legs move independently and randomly.  How other times his fingers, arms, and legs move in unison to grab my chest hair, support his leaning when being burped, and kickoff his blanket (he probably doesn't mean to do that last one).

How he turns his head to feed and snort like a warthog when he wants more.  How his mouth works with his throat to take food while breathing through his nose.  How he learns to hold his head up for a millisecond more each day, turning it side to side to either see his mom's smiling face or the window shades.  How he gets hiccups at least once a day and is not bothered.  How he can go from a crying baby shaking his lower jaw to one that's calm, sleeping in my arms, and even more precious than the day before.

I know he and these things can and will change, some good and some bad.  I'm just amazed that any of this happens at all.

You Say Frenulum, I Say Friend You, Um?

"Wakey wakey.  Time to wakeup and get your late night meal."  I stroked my son's cheek to let him know it was time for some yummy colostrum.  I unwrapped his blanket exposing him to the cool nighttime air that was moving his nursery's white, sheer curtains and managed to make some hairs on his head wave.  Four days old and he's already spoiled by the nice weather.

It was 10 pm and he had slept solidly since his last feeding three hours earlier.  He probably was just tuckered out from an extended fussy session in which I tried every hold, off-key lullaby, and swing motions I had in my developing arsenal.  Sometimes the best medicine for a child that won't sleep is to have them tire themselves out; yet another maxim I've made for myself so I know everything's right.

I unbuttoned his onesie and saw his diaper's wetness indicator was a solid green.  I put him on the changing table, wiped him down with water, restocked his urination catcher, and picked him back up.  He slept through it all.  Just a tired boy who's growing.  Plus some books advise you to wait for a baby to wake for feeding and this was surely one of those times.

It looks just like my son!

I touched his cheeks, rubbed his hair, and tickled his feet and got no reaction.   I tried my cache of positions, bouncing patterns, and songs again without any luck.  He felt like a wet pasta noodle.  More angel hair than spaghetti because he's my angel and has my hair color, but limp nonetheless.

I placed my finger in his mouth to kickstart his sucking, but he had little desire to open his lips more than a few millimeters and refused to open his eyes.  His chest continued to rise and fall at a calm rate which seemed to be his only functioning bodily function.  Why wasn't he responding???!!!  Our first-time parents' anxiety levels went up or down another DEFCOM level; whichever direction means a situation is more serious.

We called the Kaiser-Permanente 24-hour helpline and were told that it's okay for a newborn to sleep through a feeding, but if he doesn't wake for the next meal in two hours, more action would be necessary.  We sat with him in the nursery with this new knowledge that should've provided comfort, but didn't.  We just wanted him to wakeup and couldn't wait until his next scheduled meal and our next attempt.  He was limp in our arms afterall and wouldn't open his eyes!  Normal is fine for everyone else after a situation is resolved, but we didn't know if that normal applied to our son here, right now.

From the moment our son was born, he had difficulty latching to breastfeed.  Pushing his face into my wife's chest, as encouraged to do so by the nurses during his first two days only upset him.  It didn't help that he had and still has a strong preference to suck in his top bottom lips.  For the first two days in the hospital and the three days afterward at home, our routine had my wife pumping colostrum, me pulling it into a syringe, and together we'd feed it to him via a small wiry tube while he nursed (or pretended to) so that he'd enjoy the process of, ya know, taking in calories to survive this crazy mixed up world.

Midnight approached and two hours had passed since the last try.  Please show more signs of life!  By some miracle he opened his eyes briefly and moved his arms.  He wasn't as limp of a noodle, something closer to al dente.  My wife took him in her arms and coaxed a small opening in his mouth.  I pulled 6 ml of colostrum into a syringe and connected the small tube to the end.  My wife placed the other end in our son's mouth and I lightly pressed a few drops into his mouth with him against her chest.

His throat moved with every third tongue depression and he slowly took our offering.  Never was it so good to hear his gulping noises that are mistaken for a warthog in heat.  By the morning he had had his regular 5 or 6 ml feedings, but without the aggressive desire you want a newborn to have.  His skin had a yellow tone and the whites of his eyes looked like watered-down mustard you get at ballparks.

We called the helpline again and with the impression of a jaundice case, saw a pediatrician at 4:40p.  Our son didn't have jaundice, but had lost 13 ounces since birth.  Babies are supposed to return to birth weight by their two-week appointments, but at this rate our son wasn't going to get there.

The doctor's bedside manner was just what the, um, doctor ordered.  He recognized our fears, worries, and son's correct diagnosis (he's hungry and needs supplemental formula).  He spoke in plain English that even sleep deprived parents could understand and use to make informed decisions.  No question was dumb, silly, or too small.  Even at the end of his long day he still had a relaxed manner and made an awesome first impression.

Our pediatrician pulled some strings and got us a visit with a lactation consultant just before everyone left at 5p.  We gave our son a sample 60 ml bottle of formula and he ate it like it was his last meal, or rather, his first meal.  Never had we seen him eat more than 6 ml at a time and now he destroyed 10 times that amount!  Turns out a newborn can take 30 to 60 ml of liquid food per feeding, 8 to 12 times per day.  We had no idea.

Had we been starving our child?  Was he so dehydrated he couldn't move to take in calories?  What if he hadn't shown signs of jaundice leading us to a pediatrician appointment and lactation consultant just before the day was done?  How long would we have waited for him to be limp before calling this helpline again or taking a trip to the ER and dealing with that many more hours of worry?  I sure hope the helpline would've told us to simply get him some formula, but who knows.  If we were told to wait until the morning, that would've been agony and I wasn't going to wait that long to help my son; he's five days old!

This made me realize that Kaiser failed us in the post-delivery stay and instructional period for feeding our son.  Considering he had issues latching early, whether my wife wasn't producing enough right away or he had trouble or both as they need to work together, why weren't we told that if we continue on this path of low production and our son's high caloric output from trying, he'd get hungry and scare the crap out of us by going limp?  Why not send us home with some formula to get through until our first appointment of any kind within the Kaiser system or tell us to buy some?

It seems that if a woman is having trouble feeding, for whatever reason, then you can't count on the newborn to get enough calories because you can't tell how much is coming out.  In our son's case he'd act like he was nursing and would swallow, but he wasn't getting enough.  He'd hang out there for almost an hour, occasionally making the motions.  So the test that says a baby will stop sucking and fall asleep when they've had enough may not be reliable because the baby could just be tired of trying.

I'm no doctor, but I think if a mother or child is having trouble feeding in any way, perhaps they should pump the colostrum/milk so you can see exactly how much is coming out so you know how much the baby's getting.  You don't jump into a bathtub assuming the faucet knows how hot you want the water; no, you have to test it first using measured results so you know what you're dealing with.

Eventually the consultant in delivery just said that our child was special in that he nurses for 45 minutes to an hour to get his food.  Okay, but this should've also set off alarms that maybe there's not enough colostrum for him or he can't get it working which, in two to three days, could lead to a hungry hungry boy and super worried first-time parents.  Where was the foresight and projecting of problems down the road?  We were told more about caring for his circumcision than we were for possible problems later related to less desirable breastfeeding results.

The next morning my wife had a previously scheduled lactation appointment which showed that overnight our son had put on 8 ounces. Phew!  We asked that he get weighed again because we were in such shock.  The consultant thought our son had an issue with his frenulum, preventing him from extending his tongue far enough to adequately nurse.  Poor nursing by our son means less milk produced by my wife or vice versa.  Considering it hasn't worked well since his birth, we were well behind the training schedule.

Not pictured: our son's frenulum below his tongue

The consultant referred us to a pediatric ear. nose, and throat doctor in Oakland.  After some aggressive calling tactics on our part, we managed to see the doc on Tuesday of this week.  Turns out that Kaiser has about 100 ENT docs and 3 pediatric ENTs so getting in can be difficult.  This coupled with the fact that the phone tree you go through for an appointment had us on hold for phenomenally long periods of time.  We never got a callback on Monday as promised and after being disconnected after a one-hour hold, my wife found a workaround with the ol'choose the wrong extension and in just a few minutes we were given two hours to make the drive.

Seeing a need to cut a frenulum (from what I've gathered) doesn't become apparent until a child has difficulty nursing or has speech challenges in their preschool years.  Frenulum checking just isn't part of a newborn's long checklist.  Some sites have said that "back in the day" midwives used to keep an extra long fingernail just to cut the frenulum at birth.  These days it's also difficult to find physicians who will do the procedure.  Some of this is because breastpumps can get the food and the newborn may feed by bottle; akin to circumcision, cutting a frenulum isn't a necessary procedure for survival.

In our son's case, the doctor said his anterior frenulum below his tongue was fine, but his posterior frenulum could use some assistance, as could his upper lip.  He told his the pros and cons and that little data is available about the improvement gained by cutting the posterior frenulum; however, it would cause very little pain, infection is incredibly rare, and has the only downside of not improving things.  We went ahead with the both two-second clippings knowing that it's isn't a surefire fix.

All of this could've been avoided.  Besides the head's up that we should buy formula on the way home, all lactation consultants should check newborns for proper frenulum sizing.  Had our lactation consultant, with whom we saw three times in the three days we were in labor and delivery, checked his mouth as a possible cause to latching issues, we could've had him "fixed" on site, thereby not delaying his training, and maybe delaying his learning that bottle feeding is the only source for the good stuff.  I recognize cutting a frenulum doesn't guarantee success, but it could surely help to know if it's a possible issue and if there's a latching issue, why not take a look for frenulum challenges?

In the first day of trying to nurse after the frenulum was cut, he hasn't had an overnight turnaround, but it's still early and frankly, he probably needs to be trained again like it's his first day out of the womb.  Until then, we will continue to pump and then feed him by bottle, hopefully increasing the percentage of milk as more is produced.  From the looks of his diaper, he's definitely getting plenty of liquid while saving up his larger and smellier displays of thanks every two to three days.  And wouldn't you know it, he was weighed again today and has matched his birth weight.

My mom said it best as I paraphrase, "welcome to parenthood and all of its ups and downs and times full of worry. It doesn't stop for your child's entire life.  You did the right thing by being proactive."

This Whole Keeping Baby Going Thing Sure Takes Time

The great news is that my son was born in time for Father's Day, coming in at 8 lbs, 14 oz, and 22 inches tall (or should that be 22 inches long until he can walk?).  The first week of fatherhood has taught me many lessons, the most important of which for this blog is that free time vanishes until we figure things out that'll lead to more time to type my incessant thoughts as a first-time father.

To be fair just writing this brief update is a sign that my wife and I are getting more efficient with babycare.  We've begun to realize that it's okay to hang out with him outside of the nursery because a diaper change can wait the extra ten seconds it takes to walk down the hall. When he sleeps in the nursery, listening to podcasts  are fine, but watching the World Cup and Netflix are so much more entertaining.

It's also okay to have him sleep in his bassinet.  Not every nap must be skin-to-skin, no matter how cute and awesome it is to hold him next to me, zonked out from his latest food coma.  We've learned that it's okay to put him down for a moment while we brush our teeth.  We still check on him every 30 seconds to hear his breathing or see his chest rise and fall, but that's 30 more seconds of two-handed functionality we didn't have a few days ago.

When the in-laws visit, it's okay to be happy that someone else is holding your newborn so that you can brush your teeth, wash your face and put on deodorant.  Shaving my face happens on a three-day cycle; not because I don't have the time, but because there's no real point these days.  I don't want my son to know just yet that he's destined to a life of facial hair in which his mustache will never connect to his beard.

Ah, time's up.  Diaper change commence!

The Greatest Contraction Tracking Chart I've Ever Seen

As contractions have become more frequent, it's time to track them.  Because I'm still rocking a dumbphone, I won't be tracking them with an app.  Somehow I'll survive by using pen and paper.  Oddly enough there are no contraction charts in either of the What to Expect or Mayo Clinic pregnancy books.  I looked to the world wide web for a contraction tracking chart and found them lacking so I created my own.

So far the chart has satisfied my needs in figuring out how far along things are going.  And with any luck my next post will be the glorious birthing story.  As the creator of this chart, I highly recommend it!  I hope it fills the void of contraction tracking charts.

Here's the chart as a PDF:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-bPZhhjLP78M0VpN3luVXFsUmc/edit?usp=sharing

Here's the chart as a Word file in case you want to edit it yourself (no offense taken, but let me know how I can improve it for all of us):

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-bPZhhjLP78Vy1DZjBmMnZMODQ/edit?usp=sharing

Bringing a Father to Happy Tears

While we await our bundle of joy...I dare you to watch this video without tearing up.  Tell me parents; it's moments like this, when your child shows such great love and care for you that makes it worth it, right?  I sure hope that all the diaper changes, teenage angst arguments, and unfounded temper tantrums will yield precious moments like this, when a child shows appreciation for the work done by parents.

Some 20 years ago, an eight-year-old son promised his father that he'd get him a '57 Chevy for his 57th birthday.  Well, he followed through with his promise.

Nervously Excited and Thankfully Prepared. I hope.

Now that we’re in our final days before our due date, friends and family regularly ask how my wife’s doing; she’s doing well, thanks.  Then they’ll ask me how I’m doing.  Well…

I’m excited to be a father; raring to get going, like a car revving at the start line.  Sure, I’m supposed to slow down and take advantage of these final days sans childcare, but I REALLY want to start rocking this kid’s world, rocking it to sleep, and rocking this parenting thing with my wife.

Ready...set...go!

I’m nervous to be a father and have more questions than I can list.  But that won’t stop me from still listing a few in no particular order.

1. What if I can’t calm the baby?
2. What if it only cries when I hold it?
3. How will I deal when it doesn’t act like me or have my personality?
4. How will I not be a super-worrier when it gets its first fever and we call the doctor?
5. How will my relationship with my wife change?
6. What if it doesn’t sign a contract to play small forward for my New York Knicks in 2034?

I’m aware that being nervous is normal and healthy; so to answer the questions above:

1. There’s no manual to calming a baby that works every time; what worked yesterday may not work tomorrow.
2. Invest in a good pair of earplugs and continue showing it 100% love and patience; the cries stop eventually.
3. Each baby is unique and its personality should be celebrated as long as it also learns to set the dinner table.
4. Embrace it by telling yourself that being a super-worrier simply means you’re a super-caregiver.  Yeah, that’s it!
5. It will become stronger through this powerful bond that we created.  Our love and care for each other will be shared with the baby, even when we’re zombies from sleepless nights.
6. Signing with the Warriors would also be acceptable because it’s a local team so we could attend games.  Otherwise, we’ll fall back on hoping our kid maximizes its opportunities, treats others with respect, and lives a good life.

It’s the final countdown!

I’m prepared as much as I want as a soon-to-be father.  I’ve spoken to dads (and moms), I’ve read articles, and I’ve viewed videos.  Better than all of those is that I’ve experienced my mother’s and father’s tender, loving approach.  I can only hope that my child also learns the value of having emotions, expressing love, and seeking the joys of life.

One person’s overpreparation is another person’s starting point

I’m anxious to raise, with my wife, a human to function in this world, interact with others, and navigate large and small problems as they age.  I’m very curious to see and experience the world through a child’s eyes.  Things I know how to do (and take for granted) were learned through the lessons of my parents.  It’ll be amazing to teach and pass along knowledge I’ve gained.  Plus it’ll make me feel smarter for knowing how some of the world works.

I’m incredibly thankful that my wife has given me the opportunity to stumble, fall, learn, and (with any luck) succeed at being a stay-at-home father.  We’re so very lucky to be in a position, with her as the greater breadwinner, for me to leave my job, take the reins, and ride this rollercoaster of a child’s early years.  Let’s hope I don’t disappoint.

I’m lots of things right now.

Guaranteed Way to Stress a Late-Term Pregnant Woman

With two weeks until our due date, all the signs of a glorious day appeared during one our final quiet mornings.  Birds harmonized in the trees, our cat purred for attention, and sunlight peaked through the bedroom curtains…and our living room drywall.

So much cheaper than installing windows

When we moved to our house a few months ago, we learned about dry rot issues that should be mitigated easily, quickly, and cheaply.  On Monday the contractor removed siding to determine the extent of dry rot damage and found that termites had quite the buffet at the cost of a huge piece of wood that provides support to the corner of the house.  It’s nothing major; just something that prevents the house from sagging toward the corner.

I’m not trying to be dramatic, but this is a dramatic result of weak home structure

While testing and replacing this structural board, the workers banged a little too hard and cracked our interior drywall.  I couldn’t think of an easy way to tell my wife other than to say, “honey, there’s something you need to see over here and it’s not good”.  It wasn’t what she needed to hear after a day without running water while a plumber was also fixing a leak in our crawlspace.  At least the pipe will be fixed after the glue cures by the morning of day two.

We’re not quite ready to stage a game show at our hosue

The morning of day two came and the glue hadn’t cured correctly meaning no toilet, sink, or shower usage for another day.  We quickly learned the fastest route to our community building’s bathroom for those urgent times (when we have to brush our teeth of course).  Surely a pregnant woman in her final trimester doesn’t need ready access to a working bathroom.  It’s not all bad.  I finally had an honest excuse to leave a pile of plates in the sink and not shower – what a dream!

There’s a fine line between a drainage pipe for water and one for a warp zone

At the end of day two the contractor had replaced the structural board and siding and primed them to prevent this from happening again for a long, long time.  With another day of no water, we ate at a Chinese restaurant to try its food and enjoy its toilet and sink offerings.  By the middle of day three, another plumber swung by and fixed the pipe.  A day later the contractor fixed the drywall with patching, putty, primer, and paint.  All was good again.

My wife’s stress decreased (as did my hidden worries), we’re still pregnant, and we made plans to make no more plans for contractor home repairs – until our A/C compressor assuredly dies at the height of the summer.