I'm the Serious Type.....

I had one of those "Living Social" deals that I bought for a discounted photo shoot.  I thought it would be nice to have those typical "studio" baby shots of Stephen.  On the ride to the studio, he was such a happy camper in his carseat--I could hear him happily chirping his mama's, baba's, dada's, and the new favorite: nananana.   Awesome, I thought.  He'll be in such a great mood, and I'll get lots of cute photos.  


Alas, as soon as I plunked him down in front of the screen,  Mr. Serious showed up.  Nothing the lady said or did could get him to crack a smile.  I weighed in, squeaking his giraffe like a crazy lady and making all sorts of ridiculous sounds.  Nothing.   So here's what we got:

He's still so cute.  Love my kiddo with a mind of his own.  :)

8 Months!

Wanted to share some new photos, made crisp and oh-so-clear courtesy of my parents.  They gave us an amazing, schnazzy new camera for our anniversary (Thanks, Mom and Dad!) so now we are able to take pics of our son and not have a conniption because they are blurry.  ( Take a guess who was guilty of the photo conniptions.... haha love you Steve)

Here is my (almost) 8 month cutie pie.   I'm in love with that sweet face.... 

.... and that smile....

.... and those gorgeous eyes!   Still haven't figured out what color they are.

Chillin' with Grandma, Aunt Shan, and Uncle Pete. 

This has to be my favorite family photo.  There's just so much personality-- the two guys have the same smile!

At Tam's wedding.  Stephen loves a good spoon.  This was before he spilled fish soup all over Daddy's suit.

Hey!  Hi!

I don't know what it is, but Stephen is obsessed with beer bottle tops.  Makes us look like TERRIBLE parents, but hey, it keeps him occupied for like, 20 minutes.  We'll take it.  (Caveat--no beer actually goes into the baby. :)  )

Dumbarton Oaks

This past weekend we went with some good friends to a truly beautiful place called Dumbarton Oaks in Georgetown, DC. 

While the estate was gorgeous, it was not at all stroller friendly, so we ended up carting Mr. Stephen around in our arms the entire time.   He enjoyed all the attention... and so did Dad, apparently.   :) 

While not usually a fan of modern art, I thought this exibit was really neat.  The netting was strung with hundreds of sun-catching crystals.  I would have loved to see it on a sunny day. 

They smelled so good!

Dad and Stephen in a random twisty bunch of vines.   Stephen is highly skeptical of this arrangement.  

SO blessed by good friends and a relaxing weekend!

Socks...or lack thereof....

This afternoon's interchange on our walk:


(two older women coming the opposite way)
- "Look at the beautiful baby!!"  
(they stop to ooh and ahh over Stephen.)
One says to the other, concerned:
-"He doesn't have any socks on."
(Women reaches down and touches Stephen's toes.)
-"Oh dear, his feet are chilly.  You should really put some socks on him."
(They sigh.)
-"Oh well, he'll live." 
(They keep walking.)


I might add, it's pushing 80 degrees here.  Sunny, warm, beautiful, I was breaking a sweat in my T-shirt.   Too bad that my son was in danger of freezing to death.  :)


Socks on Stephen are like ice cream in our freezer--gone before you can look twice.  When it is at all chilly, I do bundle his toes.  Just not on gorgeous, sunny days.


And so, my enduring question of the day is, 
"Why are people SO concerned with socks on a baby?"

An Unexpected Breastfeeding Journey

I am returning my breast pump on Friday, Stephen's six month birthday. 


Those of you who know me know what a monumental step that is.  It is the end of an incredibly long and difficult breast-feeding journey: one that I am very proud of but also one of the most difficult things I have ever taken upon myself (even beating out childbirth). 


Before Stephen was born, I was hopelessly naive about breastfeeding.  I knew that I wanted to give him the best nutrition and start to life, and I fully planned to breastfeed as long as possible.  In my mind, I pictured 
1. baby is born. 
2. baby opens mouth. 
3. baby starts eating.  
How hard can it be?  I don't think I even read a book about it, which is my usual go-to device when I am unsure about anything.  


Fast forward to post-partem, a couple of hours.  I cannot get Stephen to latch.  The lactation consultants in the hospital are very helpful.  However, the L&D is at full capacity and they are stretched to the max.  I go to the hospital breastfeeding class, and there are 20 other women in the room.  It takes over two hours, and I only receive about five minutes of personal instruction.   My husband and I head home with many questions and few answers.  


A couple days go by, and Stephen just is not eating.  I go for his pediatrician visit and meet with the lactation consultant.   We find out that Stephen has lost a little too much weight, and so while the lactation consultant works diligently with me on getting him to latch, she also sets me up with a pump and bottles, just so he can begin receiving the nutrition he needs.  


And that is that.  Once Stephen got a taste of how easy the bottle was, he was hooked.  Feeding Stephen turned into a nightmarish cycle of trying to breastfeed, having my son flip out and start screaming, settling him down, giving him a bottle, and pumping more milk.   It was wreaking havoc on my emotions to have my son reject the breast, and I was still in recovery mode after a pretty difficult labor.   After a month of this, things were not improving, and I made the decision to exclusively pump breastmilk and feed him through the bottle.  


Once the decision was made, I hoped things would get easier.  It was definitely a relief to be spared the "try to breastfeed a very angry baby" step.  However, I had to grapple with a lot of disappointment and doubts.  Did I give up too fast?  Will I be able to bond with my son?  Will I be able to make this work?   


I came incredibly close to quitting a number of times, and went through two bouts with mastitis.  I also felt that all I was doing was pumping--cleaning up after pumping, getting ready to pump again, getting up during the night to not only feed Stephen but also pump.  However, there was this stubborn part of me that I had never tapped into before that kept whispering in my ear "Don't forget.... you are feeding your child.  You are breastfeeding.  You are making this sacrifice for him."   (I also think that God was doing some of that whispering too.) 


Amazingly, things got easier.  I was able to drop the number of pumps in a day, I built up a huge freezer supply, I got REALLY good at any/all shortcuts to the pumping process--and I fed my son.  I am really proud of this fact.  I also can imagine someone reading this and thinking that I am crazy for dealing with all of this.  I don't blame you.  But something about that "mother love" that just gives without counting the cost made me determined to give Stephen what he needed.   


This whole ordeal also made me a lot more empathetic with women who don't breastfeed.  Before I had Stephen, I admit that I wondered why women don't breastfeed more.  Now I know.  I also think the hype over formula is a bit much.  As my husband and I like to joke, "It's not the devil's food."  Stephen has been transitioning onto formula and he is fine.  He would have been fine had he been on formula from day one.  But I also believe that he is more than fine--he is thriving, and I hope that is because of the sacrifice I made for him. 


Next baby?  Oh man, I really hope breastfeeding works out.  I feel a whole lot wiser about the process, and I have high hopes for success.  I also will cross that bridge when it comes.  But for now, I am celebrating six months of a long breastfeeding journey for Stephen.  It made me feel stubborn and tough--in a good way.  Perhaps I needed that.  I feel strongly that God used this hardship in my life for a purpose. If nothing else, it gave me the first opportunity in my life to sacrifice for Stephen.  He will never understand what I did or how hard it was--but I did it because I loved him.   Welcome to motherhood. 

Contentment

Took a bit of a break from writing, mostly from necessity.  We traveled to visit my family over the Easter season, and it was wonderful to see everyone.   I got to "show off" my baby like the proud new mama that I am.  


Then this past week was a bit hard, because Stephen's teeth came in.  He spent a great deal of time fussing and wanting me to hold him.   I love my sweet boy and would hold him forever--but my poor arms aren't quite up to the challenge.  Stephen is a big kid, and his 20+ pounds are giving me quite the weight training workout!  However, he's got two cute little white teeth on the bottom gum to show for it.   


I was wondering what to write about, and what seems to come most to my mind is simply the feeling of contentment that (big) Steve and I share right now.  It seems like we are both very aware of our blessings at this particular moment in time.  Our beautiful son is growing and happy and brings so much joy into our lives.  Our neighborhood is teeming with azaleas and blooming trees.  Our house is.... a mess, but in the context of a baby I think we're doing pretty darn good.  We have loving families and a wonderful community of friends here.  We are incredibly lucky to belong to a dynamic, faith-filled parish.  Steve's job is steady, and we can afford to have me home with our child.  Our marriage is strong, full of laughs, and truly a loving union of two (rather silly but perfectly matched) souls.   


It is naive to believe that things will always be so golden--but it's also wrong to not savor the moment when it is present.  
I am thankful, I am blessed, I am content!  

Choir Baby

A member of my church choir died over the weekend, and her funeral was today.  She was 95 and had been singing with us for a long time--quietly giving of herself and her music week after week.  She was such a beautiful and pleasant lady--always smiling.  Monsignor said in his homily that she was the only person he had ever visited in a hospital that was still smiling while hooked up to an intubator.   


I'm so glad our choir was there to honor her and give her a truly beautiful funeral Mass.  The music our director chose was lovely--peaceful and full of hope.  It reminded me of what a ministry music is--it brings an expression of comfort that mere words cannot achieve.  


I had to choose between attending the funeral with Stephen in tow, or missing it for fear that he'd be disruptive at such a solemn Mass.   He's been working on his "screeching" lately, and I had images of him letting loose a well-timed shriek during the eulogy.  Fortunately, I braved the first option, and Stephen proved me wrong.  He was so entranced by sitting with the choir and listening to the singing all around him that he completely forgot to make any noise at all.  :)  Such a great boy.... the only distraction he caused was by people looking at him rather than at our conductor.  He's learned how to be quite the charmer!


I was talking with the bass section lead afterwards, and he said that it was obvious how influential it was for Stephen that I was at home with him.  "He is just so content and happy with you, and his behavior reflects that."  It made me feel so good--an affirmation and reminder that nothing can replace what I am giving Stephen right now.  He has the security of knowing his mom is there-- all the time, without fail. 


Here's to the music of a long life well-lived, and here's to my choir baby!