Parenthood

The Complicated Age of Preemies

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Home at last. London’s 4-month and 1-month birthday.

“How old is she?” The simplest of questions for parents of full-term babies to answer, but not so for parents of preemies because there are two answers for this one question.

At some point, a baby arrives so early that their actual age is going to be different from their developmental age. For example, my daughter, London, was born at 26 weeks gestational age, three months early. Her birthday is January 30, 2014. Her developmental birthday is May 4, 2014. This means London’s adjusted age is 11.5 months, even though she’s been with us for 14.5 months.

So how do I answer the question, “How old is she?” Well, sometimes I lie. If the person asking is asking because they are wondering why London is not walking and or talking because she’s the size of some two-year-olds, I lie and give them the adjusted age. By doing so, I direct the conversation toward the obvious and usually hear something like this: “My God, what a big baby.” I would much rather talk about how big my baby girl is than tell the person the truth and then have the conversation inevitably slide toward how London is, developmentally speaking, three months behind.

That said, I think most of the time I tell the truth and answer, “Almost 15 months,” because most people, whether they dwell on my answer or not, just aren’t going to say anything else. But I know, because I’ve seen it in their eyes, that when I say London’s real age some people look a little confused. I don’t know what they are thinking exactly, but it’s something along the lines of:

“Shouldn’t she look older?”

“She should be crawling by now.”

“She should be walking by now.”

“She should be talking more by now.”

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At seven and four-months old.

When I feel this reaction in people I know I could take the time and explain London’s two ages, but somehow just saying, “She was born three months early,” sounds cheap because I’m taking this huge, scary part of our lives and trivializing it in six words. Plus, the majority of people will not be able to comprehend what those six words truly mean. Getting stranger after stranger to comprehend that over and over again can be exhausting. I know, because I would make a casual effort to explain London’s prematurity to nearly everyone that asked. This was right after she came home from the NICU. Still on oxygen. Still rocking cheek patches. NG tube still snaking across her face. Understandably, those people who asked how old she was back then knew they were probably going to get something more than, “3 months.” But after a while, parents of preemies tire of going into the explanation thing. So, like parents of full-term babies we get back to basics with a simple, short answer, “Fourteen and a half months.”

Or am I going to say, “Eleven and a half months,” this time?

Oh hell, maybe I’ll just split the difference.

“Thirteen months.”

Wage Equality

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Every year someone at the Oscars uses their acceptance speech as an opportunity to get up on their soapbox. And every year people in the media, politicians, and sometimes people in your own living room get slightly irritated to irate about these moments when someone “supposedly” strays off topic, like the actor should not have the freedom to do anything but praise the cast and crew of the movie they starred in and, of course, thank their parents, wife, husband, and/or kids.

This year, as you may recall, Patricia Arquette used some of her time at the mic, while accepting the award for best supporting actress, to give a little speech on how important she thinks wage equality is. Here’s a little excerpt:

To every woman who gave birth, to every taxpayer and citizen of this nation, we have fought for everybody else’s equal rights. It’s time to have wage equality once and for all. And equal rights for women in the United States of America.

I was surprised this year at the uproar over Arquette’s speech and her backstage comments as well. It’s like every year people forget that some celebrity is going to stand up and fight for what they believe in or what they want others to believe in. And then when it happens again. Outrage. Shouts of, “Get on with the show.” Etc.

What I did not expect is for people to get all pissy about a call for wage equality. As a husband to an amazing woman who is the primary breadwinner in this family (always has been, likely will be for years and years to come) and as a father to the most precious girl I will ever know, wage equality is extremely important to me.

Someone promoting wage equality at the Oscars isn’t going to bother me.

I’m not going to be bothered if a pastor ends his or her sermon with a call for wage equality.

I would be delighted if I was woken up in the middle of the night by someone outside calling for wage equality.

A call for wage equality is just never going to bother me and I will never understand why this year it irritated so many.

Nana Remembers London’s Birth

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I’ve been meaning to share this comment since it was left on January 29th, when I wrote this post. The comment is from my mom, recalling the night and early morning of January 30, 2014.

I have been thinking all day about the phone ringing this night a year ago when we were sound asleep. Groggy and confused we listened to you tell us Kate was in distress, the docs were monitoring her and you would keep us posted. We hung up the phone, prayed through our tears thinking how can a baby live at 26 weeks? And we called her Grace not knowing you’d give her that moniker as her middle name. Your next call came to say Kate was about to undergo an emergency C-section. More tears and ongoing prayer. I remember my heart was beating so hard for what seemed like hours but you called again less than two hours later to say “London Grace” was here. Dozens of doctors and nurses were looking after her and Kate was in recovery. Then you asked, “Do you want to see a picture of her?” And so it began.

Still, I can’t read this without fighting back some tears. I had sort of forgotten that I asked my parents if they wanted to see a picture of their granddaughter. Such a question seems a little odd, but in the moment it was not an unusual precaution. The one picture I had of London at that point was graphic, for lack of a better word. She was vulnerable and the picture succeeded in showing that. I must have thought that maybe they would not want to see a picture of her until she stabilized some. Had they felt that way it would not have bothered me. Obviously, I was still protecting myself, but I also thought about protecting others and this was a way I tried.

I have known for a long time now that there was no protecting me or anyone else if things had gone horribly wrong during those first days. I was in shock and still under the illusion that I had any control over what happened next.

Have Preemie, Will Not Travel

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Oh, the places we’ve been since London was born.

From January 30, 2014 to May 19, 2014 I left Denver once, for a quick trip north to Fort Collins. I was there for six hours. Since London was born I have spent three days outside of the state, not too far away, in Green River, WY. It took me two minutes to draw on a map where I have been in the last 14 months.

Having a baby will naturally limit your geographical existence. Having a 26-weeker will completely shut your travel down. From what I have heard about other parents who had a very early baby, we have been ambitious in our reach across this relatively small map. I have heard of parents who will not take their baby outside the house but for walks. These parents have decided that taking their preemie to the grocery store, the shopping mall, or to Target, puts their preemie at too great a risk of getting seriously sick and going right back to the hospital. My family did not make it out of the NICU without receiving such advice, from a nurse nonetheless. We were blown away by the severity of such restrictions and quickly conferred with other nurses that we did not have to stay under house arrest with our preemie until flu season was over.

We have followed certain recommendations such as, do not fly anywhere with your baby until flu season ends. Locking baby inside an incredibly small area for two hours with 140 other strangers sounded like a really bad idea to us as well. Not flying anywhere for such a long time (our last flight was in mid-December 2013) has been incredibly weird and challenging, but also much better than having a very sick daughter back in the hospital.

The feeling has been similar to putting travel and adventure on probation for over a year. Localized adventure has still been possible and we have taken advantage of that with trips to Wyoming, Breckenridge (twice), Steamboat Springs, and Estes Park. If it wasn’t for weddings, I am not sure we would have made all those trips, but thank God for weddings because these short getaways have quenched at least a little bit of our thirst for travel.

Flu season is almost over. Besides the obvious, this means as a family we are free to move about the country. And again, weddings will be the catalyst of much of that travel, but instead of weekends in the Colorado mountains we will get a weekend in southern California and Nashville, with some excursions in between. The destinations are exciting. The process of getting there, i.e. flying with London and bringing all the baby stuff along with us, does not excite. However, if London’s behavior as a baby can be a predictor for how she’ll be on a flight, I can say she probably won’t put up much of a fight. It’s her 40 lb. car seat that will.

10 Signs You’re A Stay-At-Home Dad

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1. When you’re hanging out with other couples who have kids you start identifying with what the moms in the group are talking about. You’ve chimed in before and then you’ve immediately felt sort of awkward. Just keep doing it, because sometimes, mom really doesn’t know what is best. Dad does.

2. You’re intimately aware of just how much Netflix’s selection of streaming movies sucks. Knowing this, you’ve delved into several binges on documentaries available on Netflix. When you’ve exhausted the current outstanding selection of these films you once again are disappointed to find that the popular selections on Netflix consist of the remake of Robocop, Homefront, Redemption, and every other Jason Statham movie in which he plays a hardscrabble character who has run up against some guys who threaten his life leading to Statham coming out of quasi-retirement to blow shit up and kill people. Thank God for HBO.

3. You’ve caught yourself looking at a stay-at-home mom. No, no, no, not in that way. You were just staring at her because you were thinking how hard it would be to carry a kid around and all the kid stuff with arms like that.

4. Your to-read pile of books and magazines looks like you’re in grad school again. That is, you have bookcases full of to-read books and your nightstand to-read selection has grown off of the nightstand and is now growing in all directions on the floor and up opposing walls like kudzu. (This particular sign is in no way exclusive to SAHDs.)

5. You’ve watched the entirety of HBO’s The Wire while playing on the floor with your baby, while changing diapers, while washing Dr. Brown’s bottles, while feeding baby, while dressing her, and while reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

6. You’ve taken your baby for a walk through the park, a rather large park, and you’ve been the only dad in site. It’s just you and your baby and a hundred other moms with their charges.

7. Once or twice you’ve noticed a dad looking at you. You look back and the dad quickly turns away. He was looking out of curiosity and amazement because of the ease with which you’re doing everything, well not quite everything, baby-related that only the mom in his young family does.

8. Conversation with other dads is always going to be a little different for you. The odds are they are not SAHDs themselves, but make an effort. You’ll soon find something to talk about. Dads who aren’t SAHDs still get a chance to watch the shows or movies you’ve recently seen. You just watch them at totally different times and with different distractions.

9. You relish opportunities not afforded to you in a typical job: you don’t shave for months, you wear a t-shirt and pants every day, you drink a beer with lunch in your office (aka house), you drink another one when the afternoon is getting really long, you don’t have to worry about what day of the week it is, and maybe somedays you just neglect showering…not because you forgot to, because you can.

10. You can carry a ridiculous amount of goods while holding your baby. Example: When you get home from a Costco trip you grab baby first and hold her with left arm, sling diaper bag over right shoulder, carry two gallons of milk with arm that is holding baby, carry 48 rolls of toilet paper with right arm, and with the limited real estate available pinch a bag of avocados in between a couple of fingers (doesn’t matter which hand).

12 Classics: Brave New World

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I would not quite believe Suzanne Collins if she said she took no inspiration from Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World for her Hunger Games series of books. Some of the elements in the books are too close to one another for it to be a coincidence.

Moving on.

I read a classic book looking for that one element that explains why said book is classified as a classic. Sometimes it is the quality of the writing, or the twisted, complex plot that you never thought someone could come up with. There are too many elements of a classic book to write about them all, but I will mention one more, sometimes it is a particular passage, which resonates more strongly than any other portion of the book. For me, this was the element in Brave New World that made it a classic.

The passage I am speaking of takes place near the end of the book, when the Savage is speaking with Mustapha Mond. The Savage is challenging Mond on the decision to “civilize” a society in the way that Mond and other directors have. Mond attempts to justify why he and other directors/controllers are correct. Both men frequently reference Othello to support their arguments, although Othello benefits the Savage’s points more appropriately.

The Savage speaks of the “feelies” the “civilized,” modern equivalent of a book or movie, i.e. mass entertainment. He says, “Othello’s good, Othello’s better than those feelies.”

“Of course it is,” the Controller agreed. “But that’s the price we have to pay for stability. You’ve got to choose between happiness and what people used to call high art. We’ve sacrificed the high art. We have the feelies and the scent organ instead.”

Mond later mentions science as being in the same category as high art:

“Yes,” Mustapha Mond was saying, “that’s another item in the cost of stability. It isn’t only art that’s incompatible with happiness; it’s also science. Science is dangerous; we have to keep it most carefully chained and muzzled.”

What a prescient passage. Keeping science under lock and key has become a huge task for climate change deniers, oil companies, and pleasant men like Senator Jim Inhofe who brought a snowball into Congress to support his argument that global warming is a hoax. Mind you, it was February…in Washington D.C.

The Savage and Mond argue back and forth for quite a few pages. The Savage closes with a point about the inconveniences in life, the inconveniences Mond and others have tried so hard to eliminate.

“But I like the inconveniences.”

“We don’t,” said the Controller. “We prefer to do things comfortably.”

“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”

“In fact,” said Mustapha Mond, “you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.”

“All right then,” said the Savage defiantly, “I’m claiming the right to be unhappy.”

“Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen tomorrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind.” There was a long silence.

“I claim them all,” said the Savage at last.

Mustapha Mond shrugged his shoulders. “You’re welcome,” he said.

This discussion is why Brave New World is, at least for me, a classic. Inconveniences are certainly not all pleasant, but they are the price we pay for freedom. They make for a fuller, richer life; a life, which thanks to inconveniences, produces high art. I like high art.

The Troubling Loss of the Car Seat

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Fully functioning baby in the now retired car seat.

I felt the familiar bite of envy today when I saw a dad walking into a bookstore carrying his baby in a car seat. Oh, those were the days. Yes, they were.

But wait, you might say. Aren’t you excited for your baby to grow up? To walk? To be freer? Of course I am. She is crawling right now, but all she wants to do is stand at the coffee table and cruise around. In a little more time she will be walking with me, but right now we are in a cumbersome interregnum between the too-big-for-the-car-seat size and the not-yet-walking stage.

Benefits of the car seat era include easily carrying baby during any errand, including, but certainly not limited to, a stroll through the bookstore, a coffee run, and going to pick up a book at the library. Also, easily transferring baby from house to car, to inside bookstore, back inside car, back to house, and up to room if baby has fallen asleep in car seat. All this used to be done with one convenient baby bucket (receptacle or repository I like much better, but it just sounded weird, “baby repository”).

But now upon arrival anywhere we must transfer baby from big, new, giant booster-type seat for extra-tall babies to the stroller, also great for extra-tall daddies.

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Fully functioning much bigger baby in the new, custom-built-for-huge-people, booster seat.

The other option, and this is a big ask, is to carry her sans stroller. Since she’s 25 lbs and 31 inches, one better hope the errand does not take longer than expected if you spring for this non-stroller option, especially if you have already lifted weights that day.

This might be the first of many posts in which I sort of (or jokingly) mourn losing the conveniences of the infant, but also recognize the perks of getting older and growing bigger, like her booster seat (which is one indestructible gadget) and her current obsession with pulling to stand. These are great things.

But the other point of this post is that I cannot shake the memory of the days when I could carry London around in her car seat, sometimes with just a few fingers wrapped around the handle and the other two fingers carrying a six-pack. The ease. The comfort. The convenience. Oh my.

 

 

Waking Into a Nightmare

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When the doctor ordered a head ultrasound on you to finally put to rest any doubts we had about your head size I was comfortable with the call. Why not just check? I felt confident that nothing was going to come of it. However, as the day of the ultrasound approached I had this horrible feeling. I probably only have my imagination to blame. I guess I got hung up on a worst-case scenario and dwelt on it too long.

You did wonderfully during your head ultrasound. Your arms were flailing a bit and we had to hold them down, but you did not mind the cool gel in your hair or the foreign environment. We were there for less than an hour and went home awaiting results. We did not expect to get results that night while we were finishing dinner. Mom answered her phone and I did not think anything of the conversation until she pulled the phone away from her ear for a second to tell me it was your doctor calling. I knew a 7pm call from the doctor the day of your head ultrasound meant only one thing, he saw something he did not like. I sat at the dinner table and stewed, bracing myself for the next punch to the gut. What am I about to hear? I looked at you on the living room floor, trying to get mom’s attention while she spoke to your doctor, wonderfully out of touch with the news being delivered to us.

Mom told me that the doctor was concerned about the size of your ventricles. Out of caution, he recommended a consult with a neurosurgeon, which would most likely be preceded by an MRI. Mom explained all this news about you very well, even trying to calm me as the doctor tried to calm her, explaining that large ventricles may not mean anything right now. The consult and MRI are out of caution so we can really see if something is not going as planned in that big head of yours.

As Mom called her parents and delivered the news, I had to lie down on the floor with you. I clutched you as you crawled over me, not even taking my hand away to wipe the occasional tear from my face, letting them slide down my cheek and drip onto the carpet. I wanted to cuddle with you. You wanted to play. I had to call my parents too so Mom took you upstairs and you fell asleep on her.

Going to bed that night I was wishing I would wake up and remember that this was all part of a bad dream. I guess that is the great thing about having a bad dream. You wake up and there is an instant when you think the dream was real, but then you really come to and you remember with delight that none of that bad stuff you dreamt about happened. But the next morning it was the opposite. I came out of a great night of sleep and then as soon as I remembered the new reality I wanted to go back to sleep. I wanted to forget again. It was so good, that peace I had during sleep, and now it had slipped away and I did not want to face the day without it.

To be continued…

2 lbs, 8.5 oz

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I decided to post another original entry from our NICU journal. This is unedited from one year ago today.

Day 13 – February 12, 2014 – Wednesday

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February 12, 2014, one day after we got to hold London for the first time.

London had her PICC line pulled today. As well as her IV. So she is a lot freer today.

Tomorrow is London’s 2nd head ultrasound.

Today was a tough day, though not for you, London, but for your parents because the baby across the hallway from us was dying. This baby arrived around the same time you did, but we had noticed its condition was declining. When we saw both of the teenage parents sobbing today and calling in relatives we knew it was bad.

I had gone to return a pump and overheard docs saying that the chaplain had arrived. As I later stood at the sink washing breast pump parts, not more than 8 feet from where the baby was dying surrounded by family, I couldn’t help but cry. I don’t know this baby. I don’t know its parents, but I know what they went through to make it to this point and to face the truth that not all babies make it out of here was gut-wrenching.

The baby and the family were moved to a private room for the baby’s final hours of life. Now their pod is empty, lifeless, and being mopped by a janitor who hasn’t a clue what happened in that space just an hour earlier.

There is an amazing disconnect between some hospital employees and the patients and stories contained within the rooms of that hospital. I will never quite get used to it.

Today, London, you weighed 2 lbs, 8.5 ounces and it dawned on me that I weigh 100 times as much as you do.

12 Classics in 2015

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In 2015, like in 2009, I am reading 12 classics I have never read before. The first book, Moby-Dick, is almost out of the way. I am on page 430 of 624.

There are quite a few things I did not know about Moby-Dick, but two of them stand out. One, the length. I was thinking of 400 pages max. When I had seen the book on shelves it never looked quite this long. There are lots of words on each page. It takes a while to just read two full pages, especially when there are two paragraphs on each of those pages. The text is consistently all the way to the margins. I know, I sound like a middle-schooler after being presented with his first giant book with no pictures at all and small print.

And two, I was unaware of all the diversions Melville takes throughout the book. These chapters vary widely on topics, but all are pertaining to the whale. There were several chapters on the classification of whales. There were a few more on the accuracy and inaccuracy of depictions of whales in drawings, paintings, and sculpture. There was an ode to the whale tail. As annoying and out of place as these chapters might seem at first, they become enjoyable when Melville continues with the Pequod’s story and you, as the reader, have the whaling knowledge necessary to easily follow the what, why, and how of the whaling profession.

I hold Moby-Dick responsible for my lack of blogging lately. I am now quite invested and interested in the remaining pages of this book. With every bit of free time I feel the need to knock out a few pages because I just never know exactly when London is going to wake up. And, of course, the end of this book is in sight and I have other books stacked by the window tempting me with their perfectly square corners and pristine pages.

On London’s 1st Birthday

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London.

I am only human, so sometimes, when you are testing my patience, I may temporarily forget that taking care of you as a stay-at-home dad has been the most rewarding and exhilarating experience of my life.

These are the days that I will treasure for the rest of my time here. I cannot contain my excitement at the thought of you getting_BKP4139 older, taking your first steps, watching your personality blossom, and getting to try so many new things. But, there is something to be said about this time, right now. It’s a time when you need everything from me or mom. You are utterly dependent on us. You are also so content in our arms.

I believe your start to life somehow molded you into the tough and incredibly happy baby you are. I believe it means you will be a success in anything you put your mind to. You have a whole life ahead of you. I wish I could see it all, every minute. I wish I could always be by your side.

The reality is that I won’t be able to always be there. There will come a day when I will have to leave you. And I know one of the fondest memories I will have that day is to think back on the days I am living right now. The simplicity of them. The pure joy you exude. The joy you give me. The energy I draw from your wonder and curiosity in life.

The other day after finishing your bottle you were relaxing on me and sort of watching TV. Looking down at you, I had this image of you watching TV as an elderly woman. Weird, I know. I was picturing you toward the end of your life here on Earth and I got incredibly sad knowing that by then our days together in this world would have passed many years ago. It was such a sobering thought, which crystallized for me just how incredibly blessed I am to be with you as many days as I am.

In a year you have given me an abundance of moments that I have bottled up and plan on taking with me wherever I go. My love for you is at the brim. Good thing we have many, many more days together so I can make even more room in my soul to fill up with love because I don’t plan on losing one drop of the good stuff.

Love, Dad.

Did it go by fast?

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Did it go by fast?

That’s what everyone asks when we tell them London is turning one this week.

Like all new parents we have been very busy this last year. That’s what happens when you have kids. Life speeds up as you nurture another life. Everything takes longer from getting out the door to eating a meal to loading a car full of stuff for just six hours away from the house.

Time goes by quickly when everything takes longer. Maybe that is why everyone seems to have that feeling that the first year flies by.

But the answer is no. This year did not go by fast.

We just visited the NICU on Tuesday. We saw a few nurses who took care of London. The front desk staff recognized us as we were walking up the hallway toward them. “You guys look familiar,” one of them said, motioning at my height. IMG_2912

Standing there while London smiled and giggled at everyone who stopped to say hi, I had this overwhelming feeling of gratefulness. To think of London’s days in the NICU I feel like I need to look much further back in time than one year. Sometimes it feels like two years ago. Sometimes it feels like it never happened because that time was so different than what our day-to-day routine is like now.

Walking those familiar hospital hallways, making that familiar request to get through to the NICU, seeing the nurses, and hearing the distant beeps and alarms from the monitors in the NICU pods reminded me of how routine the NICU became. I forget it, but this place was our home for 109 days. Our house was just where we slept, but our lives unfolded in this little corner of the hospital.

I don’t know if you have ever had to visit your baby in the NICU. If you haven’t, let me tell you those days don’t pass quickly by. Since we almost spent a third of London’s first year in the NICU, a third of that year dragged on with countless questions, tests, consultations, laughs, smiles, and tears.

When I woke up this morning I glanced at my iPhone like I always do. The little white icon for the calendar app displayed “29.” I froze and stared at the number. London was not born until the 30th, but the 29th, January 29th, is when her early arrival started. To me, January 29, 2014 was the beginning of a miracle, so it holds a very special place in my heart, second only to January 30, 2014.

One year ago tonight we exited the elevator on the 4th floor. Our hearts remained there until May 19th. The time in between felt more like a year, which also feels like it took place years ago.

No, it did not go by fast.

January 28, 2014

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As London’s one-year birthday approaches, January 30th and the days preceding it are becoming clearer and clearer in my mind than at any point since.

Today, I am thinking of January 28, 2014.

I was in a bad state of mind that day, one day before Kate went into labor three months early. I had graduated with my master’s degree in International Studies six months earlier. I had spent summer, fall, and winter looking for meaningful employment in Denver and had found nothing.

On January 28th, I was at a coffee shop continuing my job search, but I was easily distracted and frustrated with so many things in my life. I was a few days shy of turning 31. I started to write my stream of consciousness down.

A wasted mind.

A wasted education.

Greatest accomplishment this year will be fatherhood.

Exciting that is, but I want something else.

Maybe staying home with the baby is the best.

But I’ll never know unless I get a job and can live the other side of things.

Since London was born, I have come back and read these lines a few times, but in a different mindset than when I put them down on paper. I no longer feel like my mind has been wasted. Of course, when I was in the middle of a fruitless job search it was easy to feel that way. It was easy to question my decision to go to grad school in a completely different field (IR) than my undergraduate studies (English). It was easy to get really depressed about having debt for the first time in my life, and all because of this damn master’s degree that I am not doing anything with.

A year later, the bit about the debt still angers me.

“Greatest accomplishment this year will be fatherhood.” On January 28th, I did not know a thing about what fatherhood would mean to me, thus thinking it would only be the greatest accomplishment that year. A day after writing this I was in fatherhood with no idea if my new duties would last a week, but I already knew that what I was doing during those days, what I was going to do in the days to come, would be the greatest accomplishment of not just the year, but of my lifetime.

In a way, I still want something else. I love my job. I am very happy with it. I know it will eventually change and I will be free to live the other side of things, but no matter what that other side is like, I will never get the sense of importance from it as I get from my current job. I did not know that on January 28th, but knowing it since has made all the difference during the seven months I have been a full-time SAHD.

The Typical SAHD Day

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I found that writing about my daily routine was very therapeutic and it is also great to have this down somewhere. It certainly will not prove to be the most exciting post of mine to read, but nonetheless, I share it because I never know who might find this helpful, touching, entertaining, etc.

6-7 am – Wake up. Kate will typically give London her first bottle of the day and graciously lets me snooze a little longer. Kate starts to get ready for work leaving London in my arms to cuddle a bit or to finish her bottle.

7-9 am – I set London down in the living room so I can get some breakfast. London is army-crawling or land-swimming now. Her curiosity drives her will to move to any corner of the room. She gets there fast and I usually have to break from my breakfast a few times to pick her up and set her back near her toys. Back to square one. I will also work out during this time. I take London to our unfinished basement. I bring her saucer down and some other toys. She is very content while I am working out. However, it is all about timing. If she is hungry, this is not going to go very well. I make sure she is full before we go downstairs. I typically do a workout from one of three workout programs I have completed in the past: P90X, Insanity, or T25.

9-10:30 am – Back upstairs in the kitchen. If London didn’t have her breakfast before my workout, then it’s time for that. Right now, she loves multigrain cereal and mashed up banana. We just tried yogurt for the first time yesterday and she downed a full serving size. It took me a couple weeks of London occasionally vomiting after meals to realize she needs to spend a little more time upright following a bottle or cereal. This also means I can’t hold her upright in my arms and give her a little bounce. I was doing this last week while watching some TV and I heard a loud splat and felt warm slime on my foot. I looked down and my right foot, directly under London’s mouth five and a half feet above it, was covered in vomit. So, upright she shall stay during this time until I feel we are in the clear. Sitting on the floor with her is how this time usually passes. She’s quite good at sitting as long as there are some toys within reach. I usually have an episode of The Wire on in the background. This show aired on HBO and is a cop drama based in Baltimore. Excellent writing, but dark, gritty, and very realistic.

10:30-12 pm – London’s first nap of the day is around this time, give or take thirty minutes. She typically sleeps for a little over an hour. I take her upstairs to her crib, put her in a new diaper if she’s been wearing the same one for a while. She naps much better in a fresh diaper than a slightly wet t0 wet diaper. That’s probably the case for most babies. Sleeping in a wet bed doesn’t sound fun. I stay in the room until London is asleep. This gives me some time to read aloud Harry Potter to her. We are somewhere around page 500 of the 5th book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I do not read a page in silence or away from her side, so it is taking me a while to get through the 870 pages of this book, but since I read some to her every time I put her down for a nap I am able to whittle away a decent chunk of the book each week.

Once she is asleep I will hit up some house duties. Go downstairs and clean up the kitchen. Do some laundry maybe. Pay some bills perhaps. You know, all the menial but important stuff that goes in the background of every functioning household. I will also shower so London and I don’t have to smell me the rest of the day following that workout downstairs.

If there’s some time left, I will partake in one of my favorite rituals of the day and brew some iced coffee. I’ve recently started to make Japanese iced coffee with my Chemex. This is a superb method and, after trying a variety of methods, the best one I have found.

12-1 pm – London wakes up. I give her a bottle. She will play in her activity saucer afterward while I scrounge up lunch of leftovers or graze through the pantry for something resembling a decent meal. Maybe I’ll watch a little more of The Wire. These episodes are an hour long and I never watch them in one sitting. They are usually broken up in four or five parts scattered here and there throughout the day.

1-3 pm – If we have errands to run, this is when I get them done. I like doing them while London is awake so her nap time can be at home and I will also have more time to myself if she sleeps at home. Whether it’s the grocery store or flying through Costco, London is so good when I am out with her. Today we went to the library to pick up a book and a movie I had on hold there. She seemed to know it was a quiet building, keeping her singing voice at bay for a few minutes. Once home, more floor time with London. This is usually the time of day when I read her “age appropriate” books. We usually lay side by side on our backs, with me holding the book above us, her arms outstretched for the book, wishing to touch the thick pages and pull them to her mouth. She looks from the page to my mouth, so intently studying the movement of my lips and the sound coming out of my mouth.

3-6 pm – London’s second nap will happen sometime in this three-hour block. After finishing up this dose of Harry Potter, I usually have a little cleaning up in the kitchen, but then I have some real free time. I always face a choice during this time. There are two things I love to do during this time and not enough time for both of them. Will I read? Will I sit down and write a blog like I am doing now? If I don’t have a blog idea, I do not force it. So, with any luck, London sleeps long enough for me to read an old issue of The New Yorker or a few chapters of a book. Come 5:30, I will usually watch the nightly news and I will have to be snacking on something by then. London wakes up and Kate gets home next, or vice versa.

If there’s dinner prep to be done, I do it during this time, sometimes making all of dinner so that when Kate gets in the door we can all sit down and eat while Kate feeds London her dinner in the high chair pulled up next to our dining room table.

6-9pm – The use of this time varies. We might have a rented movie we want to watch. London might need a bath. We clean up after dinner. We tell one another about the day. I usually lean on Kate a little bit during this time, shedding some of the parental duties and enjoying the split of them between us. Come 8:30, we are thinking about heading upstairs for the night. I get London a bottle, her last of the day, and make another one for the morning. I bring her morning bottle upstairs in a little cooler bag to keep it fresh for the morning. London loves cold bottles!

9-10:30 – I typically give London her last bottle. London gets a goodnight kiss from Kate and I put London in her crib. I usually do not read to her at this time, slipping out of the room as soon as she is in her crib so she doesn’t get accustomed to me being there. If she does, then she will cry as soon as I step toward the door and make any sign of leaving. But, if I step out right after she gets in her crib and is holding her hands together and looking at them, then she won’t even notice me leaving. Of course, before all this I lean in and kiss her on her forehead, still to this day having a brief thought of her incredible progress and the adventure she has taken us on. An adventure unlike any other.

Once London is asleep, I will check on her once more, usually moving her into the center of her crib. Then it’s to bed for me. Reading with a headlamp or watching some late news.

A SAHD Article

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Two friends sent the same article to me yesterday. Published in The Atlantic, Ryan Park eloquently writes about his time as a _BKP3983stay-at-home dad following his clerkship in Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s office. The article is titled, “What Ruth Bader Ginsburg Taught Me About Being a Stay-at-Home Dad: A young lawyer puts his former boss’s ideals into practice.” Here is a link to the full article, which is not short, but well worth the read to get this dad’s perspective.

The following are quotes from the article that prompted some head nodding and laughing because Park is so spot on.

“There’s an underlying assumption that women and men have different visions of what matters in life—or, to be blunt about it, that men don’t find child-rearing all that rewarding, whereas women regard it as integral to the human experience.”

I fully agree with the author on this point. The above assumption, in my case, is not true, and I wish the assumption was not out there at all (it would make it a little easier on us SAHDs). However, I can understand its existence. When I was growing up gender roles were presented as evolved from decades past, but there was still an emphasis on the mother as caregiver and the father as breadwinner. I do not know if that has really changed. Based on television commercials, it hasn’t, but that is a quick calculation by me.

“I could go weeks without seeing another man between the ages of 5 and 70 during the weekday working hours.”

Isolation is something that all stay-at-home parents must endure for part of their parenting, especially if that takes place during the infant months, which are chock full of naps. Naps, which we love, but also necessitate some solitude on the parent’s part.

“In virtually every extended conversation with a member of the yoga-pants tribe, I encountered the assumption that I didn’t want to be doing this—that my presence at the playground was the product of a professional setback.”

This is one of Park’s strongest points. Many people who hear that I am a SAHD assume it is because I was fired, couldn’t find work, or just generally suck at being out in the “real” world. Most people would never, ever confess to harboring this feeling, but I have the radar for it. It really does not get by me. I am sure it does not get by most SAHDs. The assumption is that this is not a choice, that SAHDs have been forced into their role. It is true that Kate and I were forced into this situation because of London’s prematurity. But now, since London has shed her medical accoutrements, we could, if we wanted to, decide that I should go back to work and we could pay a nanny $12/hr to be at home with London during the day. That is a realistic option we have now, but we are not moving forward with that, at least not at this point. So, in our case, we have made a choice for this to be long-term.

I understand that when you meet a SAHD it is difficult to tell whether his role is a chosen one. I am all about making it a little easier for SAHDs to be loud and proud about their duties and the way they go about accomplishing them. Thus, I have one suggestion. When you meet a SAHD do not assume he was forced into staying at home with his kids. Do not assume he chose to stay at home with his kids. Just talk to him instead. Hear him out. He will probably enjoy talking to another adult during the day (this rarely happens). Afterward, maybe you will know why he is a SAHD, maybe you won’t, but that should not be your concern, being friendly should be.

36 Weeker ≠ 26 Weeker

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One does not want to brag about how long their baby was in the NICU, although many do (see this earlier post on NICU bragging).

However, not all who mention how long their baby was in the NICU for are bragging about the experience. I would say a decent number of parents are simply stating that information up front as a desperate attempt to find someone else out there who has gone through exactly what they have gone through. I can relate to their desire because parents who have had a 26-weeker are not going to have much in common with parents of a 36-weeker.

What Kate and I know about prematurity is based on our own experience of having a 26-weeker. So, if you can, imagine our reaction when we read something like this, “My baby was born at 36 weeks. It was so horrible. We had to stay in the NICU for two weeks.” Parents of a 26-weeker are just going to laugh at that. In a similar fashion, so different our experience could be from a 24-weeker that parents of such a preemie might rightly scoff at our daughter’s 109 days in the NICU. I would not hold that against them because 24-weekers are at a higher risk of having longterm side effects from their prematurity than 26-weekers.

The earlier your child is born, the more you will hear stories from parents of preemies that will sound “easy” or “absurd.” The more they are going to sound like the person is NICU bragging, when, in fact, they might not be at all. Perhaps they just want to share their story. 32-weekers are fairly rare, right? Yes.

As you might be able to tell from reading the earlier post about NICU bragging, my views on this phenomenon have slightly evolved. For parents of preemies, a good rule of thumb is this:

Next time you are talking to someone who has also had a preemie, do not assume that their child’s time in the NICU was harder, easier, shorter, or longer than your child’s stay there. There are ways to find parents who have gone through the same experience as you have, but starting off with woe is me, is likely going to isolate you rather than find you the support you desire.

Costco Etiquette

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How I wish all my fellow Costco shoppers could have attended a cotillion class on shopping the aisles of Costco when they were growing up.

Alas, this did not happen so I am going to present to you a few rules my fellow Costco shoppers can abide by for all future visits to that wonderful store.

1. Samples. Every one loves their Costco samples, but no one loves a stalled shopping cart in the middle of the aisle while you mosey on over for another bagel bite. Get your butt and your cart to the side of an aisle so people shopping at Costco aren’t blocked by people just there to eat enough free samples to constitute a lunch. I’m looking at you, retirees.

2. Stay to the Right. Just like on the freeway, if you’re not passing anyone, stay to the right. This way, when I close in on you I can move into the middle and smoothly pass. There is no reason to claim the middle lane at a mall-saunter pace.

3. Baby on Board. When you see a fellow Costco shopper with a baby recognize that he or she is not at Costco today to spend two hours walking up and down every aisle and buying every item that remotely piques their interest. He is there to get crap done. He has a list. He knows what he needs. Now stop looking at that kayak like you are going to buy it and move out the way!

4. Book Table. From now on, all perusing of books shall be done in a clockwise direction around the table for better flow, for better access for those arriving at the book table, and for an easier exit for those leaving the book table.

5. Receipt Check. That second Costco employee stationed at the exit of the store is not just there as a joke. He also looks at receipts. Form two lines, using both receipt-checking employees and we all get out of here a little sooner.

6. Gas Station. Most gas tanks are located on the driver’s side so people line up on the right side of the gas pump even when there are spots open on the left side of the gas pump. What these people do not know or what they are nervous to experiment with is that the hose on the Costco gas pump reaches most gas tanks, no matter what side the opening is located on. I was at Costco last week and I saw the worst example of this. Everyone seemed in a rush to top off with $1.83 gas that there was a deep, six-car line at the station. It looked horrible. I almost turned around, but I noticed two open pumps on the left side. I slowly drove forward, wondering if these pumps worked, looking at all the people sitting in their cars and waiting. What for? I arrived at the pump, pulled the nozzle around to the opposite side of my car and filled up while people who had been waiting when I arrived watched me finish up and drive home.

A Letter to a Year

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Dear 2014,

Only 28 days passed predictably by before you became a year unlike any we had ever had. We were already set up for a big year with the closing on our first house December 31, 2013, and with our first kid on the way, due May 4th, and with me finding a job by then. But, only one of those big events went as planned, sort of. We did plan on having more than three weeks in our house before we added another person to it. Was this your way of hogging London? Eight months with her was not good enough for you? You wanted 11 months and one day to spend with London. I understand. After spending one moment with London, I could not hold that against you, but your selfishness sure made it hard on mom and dad.

Lots of things happened during your 365 days. Weddings. Holidays. A little travel here and there. Weeks of thunderstorms. Weeks of dry, hot heat. The Super Bowl. A season of television. Tax day. Pay days. Big days. Little days. Slow weeks and fast weeks.

But for 337 days, only one being mattered. You got your wish, 2014. You are all about London, but in three parts: her early arrival, her fight to stay here with us, and then her thriving.

You forced me to change so much I can barely remember what that little sliver of me was like before London arrived. But as I write this I know I am very much the same person I was at the start of the year as I am now at the end of it. But everything I am has been rearranged and redefined. Yes, 2014, you sure had your way with us, but we left you much stronger than we were when we said hello to you all those long days ago.

I know there will be other years like you. I wish I could see some of them coming, but I am also thankful I cannot, because in a lifetime not all years have happy endings, but this one does. I’ll toast to that.

Cheers, 2014.

The Redefining

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I wanted to share something short today.

At some point during London’s NICU stay I was shuffling through some words in my head. The words were not new words to me, but rather old ones with new, real-life experience meaning.

Selfless.

Difficult.

Scary.

Challenging.

Beautiful.

Enduring.

Love.

The meaning of these words most often change with a full-term baby, but when you have a super early preemie almost no word or perspective is left unchanged. The story of London’s birth is many things to us, but to boil it down to a few sentences is this…

A shift of everything into high gear and high limits. Your life and your cares as you knew them were wiped away in an instant. It is the redefining moment of your lives. What you thought would break you passed and you emerged from it whole.

Remade.

And redefined.

New and Exciting Things About Fatherhood

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I did not expect to be a stay-at-home dad. Thus, I did not expect to be as excited by some things related to stay-at-home parenting as I currently am. This post is about some of those things.

Level 3 Nipples

Anything that helps the baby blast through a bottle faster is a godsend. When London first got home it would take her an hour IMG_5059to finish off 65 mL! And that was if you were lucky enough to keep her awake for an hour straight. That was next to impossible during her first weeks home. Eventually, she became more alert, but taking a bottle would still take up to thirty minutes. I remember when we moved to level 2 nipples and that time was cut down to fifteen or twenty. But just recently we tried level 3 nipples and she polished off a 160 mL bottle in eight minutes. These are the magic moments.

Grocery Shopping With A Stroller

I am ecstatic when I go to the grocery store and I can get buy with pushing London around in the stroller instead of using a shopping cart. London’s stroller has a large basket under the seat that can hold a lot of goods. Using it for the first time instead of a shopping cart I realized how easy it would be to just push the stroller right out of the store with groceries stashed away under a diaper bag. I have not tried that out and do not plan on it, but every time I fling goods into that lower storage net I expect a store employee to say I cannot do that anymore because, “You could just walk out of here with that stuff down there and nobody would know.” Anyways, I love ditching the shopping cart for the stroller. A just tuned up and thoroughly-oiled cart is no match for the smoothness of the stroller too!

Accomplishing Tasks With Baby In Arms

Last week I successfully held London and with one hand held a beer and with the other hand held a bottle opener. The execution was flawless. In seconds I was sipping a cold one and baby was never at any risk at all. I need to set up a tripod with a camera remote to record these moments. The things I carry with London or the tasks I manage to do with my hands while holding her are certainly worth recording.

Beating The Moms Through The Grocery Store

Yep. I said it. It feels damn good. I have my grocery store down pat. I did most of the grocery shopping long before London arrived and since moving to Denver I have done most of that shopping at the same store. I would say I probably am a little more aggressive with the shopping cart than most moms I come across. Once I know London is locked in, then it is liftoff. I have my strategies, but I am not revealing them here. I might reveal some secrets of the trade over beers…if I get tipsy enough.

No Ramp, No Problem

I have been out and about a few times with London when we have come to a flight of stairs where I was expecting a ramp. The first time this happened to me I turned around to search for an easier way down, but when I did I thought, what am I doing, I can probably pick up the whole stroller with the carseat attached to it and walk down the stairs. I have long enough arms that I can easily secure my arms on opposite sides of the stroller when facing it from the side. Remember, lift with your legs, not your back, and you are free to move about the stairs, up, down, and all around. Don’t mind the onlookers. They’re just jealous. These arms aren’t just for decoration.