Thursday, July 31, 2008

Month 1

Dear Sophie,

Today you are one month old. Well, not really. Still playing catch-up here. But we're pretending you're one month old today. Everyone has met you already. Your grandma and grandpa and aunt Ashley from IL just left, and you had two doctor's appointments this month. You weighed 10 pounds at your two-week appointment.

I'm not sure how people were parents before Google. Heck, I'm not sure how anyone survived without the internet. I'm always looking up different things, like 'mustard-colored poop' and 'how long can breastmilk be refridgerated' because nobody thinks to tell you that baby poop is normally the color of dijon mustard and has little oatmeal-looking flakes in it. Because, well, it just doesn't look normal to someone who's never had a baby before. Oh, and some people say 24 hours, others say 8 days, and there's a pretty big difference there, and I still don't know which one is right, so we're just going with 24-ish hours just to be safe. Well, safe-ish.

Several people have told me that all babies do this, but your dad and I are just fascinated by your hands. You have no control over your arms yet, so all of your movements are involuntary. And damn it all if you aren't conducting a little orchestra in your head. Sometimes you put your arm straight up next to your ear, and you look like you're raising your hand. Then we say, 'Sophie has a question' or 'Sophie knows the answer!' Sometimes you hold your arm straight out in front of you, palm out, and we start singing 'Stop! Collaborate and listen, Ice is down with a brand new invention...' which is a song that illustrated our childhoods by a guy named Vanilla Ice that I'm sure we'll humiliate you with when you're older. Sometimes you just put both your hands next to your ears, and then we either say that you're Hearing No Evil, or that Mama's music is too loud. Ah, good times.

Your first trip out in public, besides doctor's visits, was to dinner at Bob Evans. It was around 4:30 for an early dinner, so the only people there besides us were about 105. You were so excited, you slept the whole time.

You started sleeping through the night a week ago. That's really early, in case nobody told you that. The first time you did it, we weren't sure if we should wake you up or not. So, after some debate, we just shrugged our shoulders and let you sleep. And you've been doing it ever since (knock on wood).


Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Month 0

Dear Sophie,

This month, you were born. Well, not really, but I just got this idea that I should write you a letter every month to let you know how much I love you, yada yada, and just let you know in general what's been goin' on, and then publish it in a blog that I used to keep regularly but has been defunct for some time so that all of the internet world could peruse it. Yep, that's about it.

So anyway, this month you were born. Your birth was a pretty huge event, 'cause your Dad and I haven't ever had a baby before (duh). We waited and waited and waited and waited and finally the Dr. said 'Enough already, I'm gonna give you some drugs and we'll MAKE that baby come out!' So, that's what we did.

On Friday, May 30, Carlos and I got up really really early, and went to Bob Evans for a 6am breakfast. They said that after I got to the hospital, I wouldn't be allowed to eat anything, so I felt that a ginormous breakfast was necessary. Then we went to the Virginia Hospital Center in Arlington at 7am and awaited the making-the-baby-come Cytotec.

So anyway, I had this lovely idea in my head that I am strong, I am Woman, hear me roar! and that all the breathing and stuff would get me through labor. No epi for me, no way. Women have been doing this for years. Centuries even. Since the beginning of... well... we'll have the creation v. evolution talk later. Carlos was going to be a great supporter and labor coach and we were going to do this together.

That was, until the Dr. broke my water. Then, all bets were off.

Nearing 4am (the next day), the Dr. announced that what she had warned us of all along was now an actuality. You refused to turn over. See, babies are supposed to be facing the mother's spine when they begin to traverse the birth canal. You, however, were stubbornly facing right. And would not budge. Which meant that you were repeatedly banging your poor little head against my pelvis instead of going straight through. You were, in a word, stuck.

So we prepped for a C-Section. I was really really scared of a C-Section. But really, it wasn't as bad as I envisioned.
And at 4:20am on May 31, you finally came into the world.
(Sophie Gloria was 8lbs, 6oz, and 21 1/4 inches long.)
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