A Morning with Amelia

Meet Amelia!  Last week, I had a chance to meet this gorgeous sweet pea for the first time.  At only one week old, she already is such a cuddly little beauty.

Before Amelia was born, I met her mommy, Jess, through work.  We both were pregnant at the time and became fast friends over shared food cravings, wardrobe malfunctions, and pregnancy milestones.  At the photo shoot, I finally had a chance to meet her other half, Tom, whom I had heard so many great things about over the previous months.  We enjoyed a fun morning, recording some of the Amelia's first moments.

It is so clear the love these two share for their little Amelia.  What a joy it was to capture these three!

And, I was so impressed by baby Amelia.  Already, such a natural model!

Thank you so much, Tom and Jess, for asking me to capture your beautiful family!

Nesting

With the significant amount of waking hours spent feeding Leon those first couple weeks, creative improvisation was required so that mommy’s (trivial) needs… like sleeping and eating… could be met.  During that time, the couch affectionately became known as “The Nest.”  During the daytime, there was a healthy supply of water bottles and snacks kept in reaching distance

Mommy and Leon camped out together while awaiting Daddy’s arrival home from work.

My favorite part of my “nesting” days was having time to really getting to know my son.  I loved watching him peacefully sleep

There would be times I would place him on my belly, feeling his little movements and discovering those were the same little kicks I felt throughout my pregnancy. 

And, I couldn’t help but admire those little fingers and toes. 

Grandparents

As a kid, whenever my parents made me do something I didn’t want to, I would make promises to my future children. As a 7 year old, I swore that candy would always be kept on the bottom shelf, not the top.  Bed times and naps would be outlawed.  Cartoons would be left indefinitely on repeat.  And, clothes would never be an acceptable birthday present.  Later, as a teen, I promised I wouldn’t incessantly nag my someday children about cleaning their rooms making their beds.  No yard work would be required on the weekends.  Friends would be able to come over any time of day, and I wouldn’t make my kids ask permission to drive, let alone share, the car.

Then, I became a mom...  

...and all the things my parents did throughout my childhood made a little more sense.  But, even more frightening: I found myself starting to do those things my kid-self swore would never happen… Somehow, I don’t expect that to change anytime soon. 

It is a beautiful process watching your parents become grandparents.  

It’s like a snapshot back in time, remembering the gentle hugs and sing-song voices from childhood.  

And, as a new parent, it softens the learning curve as you discover the tricks of the trade from the experts.  

You start to hash out your own parenting style, taking bits and pieces from those whom raised you.

Over the past few months, I have watched as Tony and my parents have poured their love onto their new grandson.  While awaiting the arrival of my sister, Kit, whom will be coming to live with us in August, the grandparents have been taking time to visit and help with Leon. 

It has been fun sharing our home and San Antonio with each, celebrating our growing family.  I realize how much I have missed all of them over the last year since leaving NY.

I look forward to what the future holds, as I see each of them a special part of this new phase in our lives.  Each has a slightly different style to grandparenting…

… but it is clear that they all will have much to give to this growing boy throughout his lifetime.

World: 1, Parents: 0

It was our first trip to the pediatrician’s office.  Tony and I had successfully filled out the seemingly endless piles of paperwork, and were relaxing with a (momentarily asleep) newborn Leon.

The pediatrician enters the waiting room with an obviously confused look on her face…

“Leno… Leno Sidan?”

Clearly, despite thinking we had found the perfect name, one that couldn’t possibly produce any awkward nicknames, we were proven wrong...

... on day 2.

Well played, World. Well played.

Motherhood: Week 1

As a new parent, surviving my first week with a newborn was very much like being trapped on a deserted island with just the essentials: 

(1) A single match (that has unfortunately been thoroughly doused with water)

(2) A bag of bananas (all of which happen to be moldy)...and... 

(3) A tattered map (which apparently leads to absolutely nowhere)

I thought I had had my fair share of experiences with babies.  

After all, I had worked with newborns (quite) extensively as a medical student on my pediatrics rotation.  Several of my friends already had babies, whom I did hold (from time to time). As a babysitter, I must have changed at least a hundred diapers.  But, I realized something quite quickly in my first few days as a mom...

... I was absolutely clueless when it came to newborns.

The wonder and amazement of the newborn…cutting the cord...

marveling at those tiny feet…

...holding him in your arms…  

...seems to rapidly fade after that first night.  If there was ever a time when a good night’s rest was needed, it would be the evening after propelling a  7-pound, watermelon-sized human out of your body.  A sleep-deprived haze rapidly replaces the amazement and wonder of the birth process, as you wander aimlessly around the hospital room.

Here are the foggy recollections of my first week as a mother:

- The newborn eating schedule seems somewhat doable in theory: eating every 1-3 hours should leave at least a solid hour for sleep in there.  What the books don’t tell you is that the clock begins at the START of the last feed… 

... crap.  So, I found myself pretty much continuously feeding my little gremlin during those first newborn days.

- The person who created the phrase “sleeps like a baby” clearly was mistaken.  Just as you begin to drift off to sleep, the little whimper will begin again.  While you are not sleeping, you are left ample time to repurpose all of those baby items you thought would be so useful in surviving newbornhood… like turning your boppy pillow into a make-shift inner tube

- I discovered there is nothing cuter than a swaddled baby… or as Tony calls it, “A Baby Burrito.”  I would marvel at my little pillbug, wrapped up and seemingly swallowed in the large bassinet beside me...

...That is, until I realized I had been blessed with a little escape artist.  No matter how tightly I tried to wrap Leon, my little wiggle worm would always find a pocket to tunnel out of.

- Isn’t baby poop supposed to increase slowly at first… giving new moms and dads just a few days to adjust?  Apparently not.  The first diaper I ever changed for Leon ended in a huge blow-out.  Daddy got the freebie with the first meconium diaper.  How could so much poop come from such a tiny creature?

- All those breastfeeding moms in the magazines look so natural…for me, this was not the case.  From the moment I tried to breastfeed, it felt like razorblades shooting through my body.  The lactation consultants kept telling me, “Just relax your shoulders.”  If only that was all that it required.  My couple days in the hospital consisted mostly of me persistently trying to find comfortable and workable solutions for my breastfeeding woes. I had once giggled at the term “nipple butter…” What would that be used for?  Reason discovered!  And, the colostrum that comes in those first few days… somehow I missed the memo that the quantity is all of maybe 3 drops an hour those first couple days… surely not enough to pacify a starving child new to the world.  Thankfully, breastfeeding did become easier over the course of the week... even if it drew more than a few tears (from both of us) in the beginning.

By the end of the week, I remember asking myself: How can parents ever survive more than one child?

Looking back, I see now that the trials and tribulations of the newborn fade with time.  

That wet match dries out just a bit.  A perfectly ripe bananas can sometimes be found amongst the rotten ones.  And, that roughly laid out map starts to make sense.  

You realize that you can survive on that seemingly isolated island, as parents of countless other generations have before you.  Somehow, you learn to function on fewer hours of sleep, diaper change with one hand, feed your baby and tackle chores at the same time.  And, by the end of it all, you somehow find yourself missing those days when he was so tiny.  You look back on his pictures, and think of that little angel of a newborn.  You start to remember how light he was in your arms...

... the gentle softness of that perfect newborn skin… 

... and somehow begin to miss when he was just your newborn peanut.   

You realize that it was all worth it.  

And, in due time, you find yourself thinking, "well, maybe another baby wouldn’t be such a bad thing?”

...someday...  

Leon's Birth Story

I have never really believed in love at first sight.  I have always thought that love needs time: it grows and blossoms with the passing moments.  That was, until I met Leon. Maybe it was the cascading surge of hormones brought on by labor … that swirling combination of oxytocin, prolactin, and adrenaline rampaging my brain.  Or, maybe it was those perfect little fingers and toes… those tiny pink lips… the way he gazed up at me through puffy eyes when he was placed in my arms.  Regardless, I simply melted the moment I met my son.  Mothers (and fathers) say it all the time... but I had never seen anything more beautiful before that instant.

Leon came into this world much the same as he navigates it… impatiently.  The morning of April 15^th, I started to experience the first contractions of my pregnancy.  I insisted on going to work that day.  My due date was still over a week away, and I did not want to waste any of my coveted maternity leave on a false alarm.  By 2:30pm, I had seen all of my patients, but my contractions were steadily approaching one another.  By the time Tony and I arrived at the hospital for a quick check, it was clear that Leon was ready to come… I was already 5 cm dilated!

My labor started quite uneventfully.  The epidural worked like a charm and Tony and I were comfortably settled into our private room.  Everything was progressing well as the contractions were becoming regular and closer together.  It seemed that, like my pregnancy, everything would go smoothly and without a hitch.

However, at 9:35pm, something went terribly wrong.  My little baby’s heart rate began to precipitously drop... first into the 60’s and then lower into the 50’s... then 40’s.  Suddenly, the room was filled with doctors and nurses.  Despite rapidly turning and repositioning me, his heart rate continued to dip.  I had not started to push yet, and the doctors said, “We want to take you for an emergency C-section.”  Nothing seemed to be working.

It was the single most terrifying moment of my life, as I feared for what was happening to my unborn son.  I wanted him out as quickly as possible, and begged for the chance to try and push.  I was told I was fully dilated and was tentatively given the go-ahead… 2 minutes to try for a natural delivery.  If Leon is a stubborn child someday, we will know where he gets it from… because not 2 minutes later, his little cries were heard for the first time.  His cord was tightly wrapped around his neck, but in every other way he came out without complication. 

Leon will always by my little blessing… my miracle baby.  As I see him grow and watch as he discovers the world, I am thankful for his health… knowing that fate could have dealt me a much different hand.  I think about those first few memories: touching his hair, kissing his nose, holding his hand.  I thank God that I can do that day after day.  I will never forget those first memories… in the calm after the storm... falling in love the moment I met him.

Beginning Again

There is something to be said about loss.  When a loved one dies, you don’t simply lose that special friend… your entire world changes.  Routines no longer are the same.  It’s those early morning hours, the fleeting moments that used to be occupied by daily walks and excitement for breakfast, that you feel that twinge of emptiness.  Places that once brought comfort can become spaces of heartache.  You are not simply robbed of that one life… the hopes and dreams for what could have been are taken as well. 

When Butters passed, he took a little bit of this blog with him.  It was our special time together, as I would chronicle my experiences… our experiences… while we sat together on the couch.  He would rest his little head on my lap, and the words would easily flow from fingertip to page.  It has not been so easy since he left me.  In fact, it has been much harder than I could have anticipated.  I never expected for my heart to be so deeply touched by one little dog whom was taken so young.  Returning to this blog has reminded me that he is no longer here.  I have returned many times to write, simply to find the words missing. 

However, one of the beautiful things about life is as one story ends, another begins.  The birth of my son, Leon, has brought many new adventures.  I find myself missing this place, the capsule for my memories.  It is a space where I can capture and share my experiences before they escape me.  I want to explore the multitude of feelings brought on by motherhood: the love and joy that exponentially expands as my son grows… the transformation of nights out on the town into bath time bubbles, talks about poop colors, and kissing tiny fingers and toes… the challenging moments as I try to balance my roles as a wife, mother, and career woman.

I want to begin again.  I want this space to again stand as a source of inspiration, pushing me to take time to reflect on life’s special moments.

So, here is to new beginnings.  Let me again share with you the snapshots of my life.