Baby Apocalypse: The end of life as we know it...

Day #1:  it's all about adrenaline & excitement, the maiden voyage home.  Baby sleeps a lot.  I worry constantly about whether I should wake the baby or let him sleep....among other paranoias (read on).  James and I stare at, no, we stalk the baby all day long & remark, ad nauseam, about how adorable, cute, handsome, sweet, perfect he is....we're running out of adjectives.  

Novice parent epic poop diaper change #1:  It takes the two of us, a team now, to do so....& it takes about 10 minutes per diaper.  (I am down to about one minute now, for poopie diapers--I am a fast learner with wicked hand-eye coordination).  Rule #1, you must give them time to wrap it up.  Outcome:  well, he continued to poop during the tedious, tenuous diaper transition, right at that exact point....and....and parents lose, Jack 1, parents zero!  Just to rub that shortcoming in, he pees....everywhere, on James, on me....in my eye, IN MY EYE...really; those penis tents don't sound so stupid now.  We laugh & laugh!  

Sleep deprivation:  The first week of parenthood makes residency call look like a vacation.  In one week, I think 20 hours of sleep total is a generous overestimate.  Nighttime fades into a blur of a day which blurs into several days....it's all the same.  I have to check the day today & the time.

So, I feel as though parenthood is a secret society.  No one tells you how hard its going to be; on the other hand, you wouldn't believe it if they did; there are no words to convey this; it's one of those things you just have no idea about until you are inside the experience.  I know all the veteran parents are laughing at us novice parents.  It is quite incredible, surreal (especially if you never really imagined yourself a parent growing up).  We love it, but man, we're exhausted.  

No one tells you that you'll obsess about whether he's breathing & alive every minute that he's sleeping & that every noise is him probably choking & that "...the universe is conspiring to kill my baby, I'm sure" (per James)...that you worry constantly that you will screw something up.  Its worse when you're a physician I think...for about 24 hours I was certain my baby had Maple Syrup Urine Disease....what the...?  I told James--he thought I was losing my mind, who knows, maybe I am, I haven't slept.  I don't think he has MSUD anymore.  Its crazy, the journey that a tired, stressed, anxious, & hopelessly in love mind will wind you through.

He's 10 days old today.  I love that little Jack more than I could ever imagine loving anything in the universe.  Also, I love that man, the one who shares this sentiment toward the object of my affections.  James, I don't have words for the dad he is....lucky, lucky girl.

I am ecstatically happy, beaming.

The plight of the pseudo-retired...

I really, really miss Alaska...


This is actually surprising to me seeing as though I was ready to get the hell outta there, away from the 6 month winters, the unreliable summers, the deficiency of sun dress & sandal wearing (plenty of boot weather though)...the overall deficiency of sunlight. Those sentiments likely had a little to do with my current status (you know, being in the family way) & a lotta to do with finishing residency(a sharp endpoint).  


Durango is great on paper.  There's endless trails; in fact, there's a trail system right outside our door. There's the Animas river which supplies endless fishing, tubing, & rafting (some of the most fun I've ever had), rock climbing (which I'd like to get back into), mountain biking (which I'd love to love)....its quite lovely, really, but it lacks a certain vibe.  I haven't figured it out...Admittedly, I had the vibe in Alaska; it was right when I set foot on the plane headed to Alaska back in 2008.  


Currently, I feel a little like we're floating, waiting....which we are, to some extent, on little Jack's entrance.  I have no sense of home right now; I certainly don't feel that I belong in Colorado, not yet, not today at least.  You know, Texas is my home, & when I'm at the house where I grew up, that feels comfortable, like home that's familiar, not really where you feel you belong though, more where I want to be from. It's too hot to live in Tejas though & too flat & too repulican. 


I don't know, maybe it's because I don't have a set goal for the first time in my life.  My goals are now to pursue my hobbies...you know, sewing, read everything, knit, travel, run my heart out....& oh yes, be the best doctor I can be & oh yeah, be a great mother....& partner, for James.  All important, especially the latter two tasks...more important than anything probably.


I always move to a place with the intention of leaving at some point.  I didn't move to Alaska thinking that; rather, I was hoping to put roots down there, but the possibility of moving on was always right there on the surface for me.  I can't seem to shake that intrinsic character flaw.  Its challenging to exist in a place without an endpoint.   


I wonder, is this what people feel like when they retire? 

Pending arrival: Jack the fetus

My time carrying Jack the fetus is drawing to a close.  My hope is that its sooner rather than later, so is the wish of most moms in their 3rd trimester.  He is large, he is healthy, & his head is perfectly juxtaposed next to my bladder.....for about 10 weeks now.  I am also large, usually short of breath & waddly...


I'm excited to meet my lovely Jack, but man am I ready to have my body back; granted, a new body.  Its hard growing a human in a 1970 something model uterus.   Also, you realize that this is the least sexy you're likely to be to any male (except maybe your baby daddy (who has baby rabies brain & therefore poor judgement) on the planet at any time in your life....however, the anti-anxiety hormones make your attitude totally honey badger....you know, honey badger don't give a shit...


I'm 35 weeks with 5 weeks to go.  My intuition is that he's ready to meet the world & rumor has it that the high altitude makes babies come early (hope! hope!).  Oh yeah, we're in Durango, CO now....that's a whole other story.


And James, who knew a guy could be so sweet on babies....at least one of us is a baby person.   He's incredible; he takes constant care of us without complaint...I'm a lucky girl & Jack's a lucky boy!

You're growing a WHO in your WHAT!

Its been over a year since my last blog; I typically put fingers to keyboard only in those milestone, epic, poignant moments in life. I’m usually stomping through bullshit. I’m happy to report that the last year has been a stable serotonin magic carpet, sans the actually SSRI, au natural, all my brainpower with sideline support from Christina of course. So, I guess that’s good, or boring….however you want to think about it, “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure”, isn’t that how the saying goes? Maybe you don’t think it quite fits the situation but I think it’s a perfect description.

So, now I return but my medium is not the aforementioned bullshit; the medium at present is more like sweet butterfly shit if you will. As usually, I do everything late, not because I come to revelations routinely after everyone but rather, I’m late because I’m stubborn, just pure obstinate. I mean, yes, sometimes I arrive at sharp, penetrating points later than I’d like to have but hell, at least I arrived, right. Anyway, I digress….this milestone, so, this milestone….easy to arrive at & heavy to surpass, but I’m moving along, slow, like on a unicycle, yeah, that’s pretty fast, & I likely look just as stupid.

Yes sir, its motherhood I speak so cryptically about. Its been a crooked journey at best to get here. I hadn’t sought it out, I had consented to it though (but of course J), but as all gifts in my life, I’m always surprised when I open them. The first part of this story was cold (literally, I had wicked cold intolerance), nauseating (don’t even get me started), and draining (my nocturia is worse than a 90 year old man with uncontrolled, untreated BPH). At first, I was all, “what have I done, this is surely to abscond with my independence, my person!” Then it was all, “what if I don’t have the mothering gene?”. I mean, those who know me well know I’m NOT a baby person, I don’t’ feel a drop of anything when I see babies; now cats, cats make me turn into a blathering idiot…my heart turns flips….I suspect this is how people who love babies feel when they lay eyes on them. This is an alien sentiment to me. I had a big breakdown about that & in the end, realized its okay to just go on being me, its okay if I’m not a baby person; I thought about how cute its voice would probably be & decided I would be just fine. The final resolve came when I told my mom & dad, who were very excited. Bless their hearts, they have something like 13 grand/great-grand kids with one on the way & now another on the way; they rise to the occasion time after time, god how I love them….after that, I found my peace.

Now, if I could only conquer my aversion to meat. I’ve been on the “lets all get gestational diabetes” carbohydrate diet. I’ve gone back to the vegetarianism, am continuing to run like the devil’s chasing me with farting cockroaches & I may still do the Goldnugget in spring….

James is thrilled. He’s so kind & care taking; he feels a renewed purpose which in a way, I can relate to; its nice to interrupt our constant self absorbed lives with new responsibility, responsibility that colors your glasses’ lenses with a new vibrant shade that you never knew was even on your palette.

About 27 wks to go...