Investment

I've been looking for photographers recently to take some family pictures, and I noticed that on a lot of the photographers' websites, they list their prices on a tab called "Investments."  And based on what many of these photographers charge, "Investments" translates as "really expensive."  These, of course, are the best ones.

So recently, Wes and I made another "investment," and this time not one for the house.  No, we got a double stroller, one of those expensive, jogging ones that is still hip and urban but really just short of a minivan.  It's a double BOB Revolution, the side-by-side version of the single stroller we have used and loved since Oliver's birth.  BOB is evidently about to release a new line of strollers -- just a new look, I think -- and so their old ones were on clearance.  I managed to find the very last one at a local baby store along with the infant car seat adapter, and after an evening with the instruction manual and various tools, had it up and running (haha).  I (and our babysitter) have had both the kids out in it, and it sure is a workout.  I don't know that I'll manage to use it as much as Helen and Huck's mom, who for a time documented her "Daily Stroller Constituents" on her daily jogs.  We cut a wide swatch on the sidewalk -- there's a lot of looking down and apologizing for taking up so much space -- but the thing just glides.

The best news is that I got the stroller for about a third off the original price -- which is still absurdly expensive for a stroller, but hey, it's the best.

Pacified

So I take back what I said earlier about Emme not liking the pacifier.  In fact, it's become her (and our) best friend.  She doesn't have it all the time, and she doesn't sleep with it, but it sure makes a difference in those times when she's tired but not going to sleep and mouthy but not hungry.  For weeks I kept trying to feed her more.  Anytime Oliver got mouthy -- sucking on his fingers, or for Emme, her fist -- he was hungry.  But when I fed her more, she'd spit up and get really upset when I kept pressing her to eat.  So one fussy night (oh wait, that's most of them these days), I tried again.  And she took it.  And relaxed.  And was kind of like, "What took you so long?"  Oliver learned one morning how to put it in and has on several occasions been on "paci patrol" while I am in the shower and Emme is in her lamb chair in the bathroom.  It's not a cure all, I'm terrified of how I'm going to break this habit when she gets older, but for now, I'm just thankful for it!

Aunt Laura and Uncle Greid

Uncle Reid and Oliver (in matching red hat) on the
"merry-go-round."  

At least, that's how Oliver says it. My sister and her husband made it for a long trip and short visit this past weekend. They got to meet Emme (and, in Laura's case, and to Emme's great pleasure, hold her all weekend long) and see Oliver after more than six months apart, during which time he's gotten so grown up! We sat around the house, went out to dinner, visited the zoo, did a short driving tour of Vanderbilt and Music Row, and grilled steaks. The weather, and the company, was lovely. Hoping to see them both again soon, either here or in Savannah, so that it's not so long between visits!

Aunt Laura, Oliver, and Wes watched some Sesame Street
while Reid and I worked on dinner.

My funny Valentine

Ollie finally went back to daycare on Wednesday, at which time he collected the valentines from his friends and gave me the one he made with the help of his teacher, Ms. Tanga.  Tanga had asked the kids to tell her why they loved their moms, and then she wrote it down.  This was Oliver's response.

Saturday, in the park

Ollie and Wes playing basketball.

Wes passes to Ollie.

Ollie comes to tell me about playing basketball with Wes.

What Emme did at the park.

Swinging.

Strong man.

Wes made me take a picture of this.
The label on the pole says the
jungle gym is for kids "5 to 12 years."

A John Deere man

This is how Wes keeps Oliver occupied when we have to go to Lowes or Home Depot. To Oliver, they are all "tractors."  He especially liked the one with the canopy.

One month old

Happy Valentine's Day!

I got a note from daycare last week saying that all the kids were supposed to bring valentines for their classmates on Monday.  At first I thought it was ridiculous (and still do) that we're already doing valentines, given that these kids are two and can't read, let alone write, their own name.  And then I decided that if we were going to do valentines, we were going to do them ourselves.  So Saturday morning, Ollie and I sat down and made his valentines.  The poem was crafted collaboratively (Oliver contributing content, while I constructed the actual text -- note the near rhyme in the first stanza -- typed, printed, cut, and glued), and Oliver decorated the insides.  He had an assortment of stickers, including zoo animals, dogs, birds, trucks, and tools, and chose the last of these for his own card to keep.

At the moment, Ollie is still down for a very long nap, having woken up today with a fever of almost 103.  The Tylenol has helped him feel a little better, but it's obvious when it wears off and he starts feeling badly again.  He's still a really good kid, even when he's sick -- lucky for me, since Wes was working today.

So here's Oliver's Valentine's Day wishes to all of you -- friends and family.  Hope the day is as special as he is.

Stats

Emmeline had her 4 week appointment with the pediatrician today.

Height: 21.5" (75th percentile)
Weight: 8 lbs., 13 oz. (45th percentile)
Head circumference: 14 1/8" (25th percentile)

Next appointment in four weeks, when it's time for her next immunizations.

  

On pregnancy, the second time around

I said throughout my pregnancy that this time was harder, and now that Emmeline is here and almost four weeks old, I can look back and confirm that it was definitely a different experience that with my first.  I'm sure this is no surprise to anyone who's had more than one kid, and it's something that shows up on a lot of "what to expect the second time" lists.  I felt like this pregnancy was, more or less, just something to get through.  It was still special, it was still wonderful -- I just wished it'd lasted half as long and I could've skipped the part with Roy (who still hasn't gone home, I'm dismayed to say).  I loved, for the most part, having a posterior placenta and getting to feel her so much more -- except the nights that kept me from sleeping.  I loved getting to see Oliver experience the pregnancy, or whatever he thought it was, from his perspective.  I loved finding out it was a girl and getting to buy pink and purple clothes and redecorate the nursery.  But I didn't love the pregnancy the way I did the first time around.

When I got pregnant with Oliver, I was just excited to be pregnant.  The fact that I got to have a real live baby at the end of it was something I got excited about later.  This time, I just really wanted another baby.  The pregnancy was something I had to go through to get it.  I hope that Wes and I will be able to have more children, and if and when I get pregnant again, I will be thrilled.  I will get excited about the second line on the pregnancy test, feeling the first sensations of baby moving, seeing the heartbeat on the ultrasound, finding out the gender, washing and folding tiny baby clothes, and gearing up for labor.  But I think next time I'll, hopefully, realize that it's just going to be a little different and enjoy it for the differences, not expect so much of it and myself, I guess.

The one thing that isn't different, of course, is the joy and excitement of having that next baby, bringing her home, and folding her into our life.  Second pregnancies might not be as exciting as the first, but no doubt that second babies are.

A consumer reviews

Nashville may be Music City, but it also hospital central.  There are several large hospitals here, and several hospital corporations (that own hospitals nationwide) are based out of the area south of Nashville.  Vanderbilt is the academic medical center in Nashville.  It's where the most critical patients go, where the research happens, and is commonly where people go for advanced types of care.  But for things like childbirth, most women head to Baptist Hospital.  It's a newer hospital with more updated facilities.  Academic hospitals like Vanderbilt, which house the NICUs and handle the most complicated pregnancies, often treat every pregnancy as though it were a potential disaster rather than something normal, so a lot of women choose to go to a nearby private hospital that are more "childbirth friendly" for uncomplicated pregnancies.  In Charlottesville, many women -- even the wives of UVA doctors -- went to Martha Jefferson to have their babies.  Here, it's Baptist.  When I got pregnant, I talked to a lot of women who'd given birth in Nashville, and pretty much all of them had gone to Baptist.  The one woman who'd recently birthed at Vanderbilt wasn't happy about her experience.  But our insurance covers best at Vanderbilt, and given my history and the fact that I was using a midwife, Wes and I agreed that we would go to Vanderbilt.

And for anyone out there wondering about the same things, can I just say, Vanderbilt was great.  I have absolutely no complaints and actually found my experience there to be better than what I experienced at Prentice, which was brand new and beautiful when I gave birth to Oliver.  My midwives were supportive without being pushy the day of the birth.  I checked in with the midwife on call, Melissa, on Thursday morning to let her know I was laboring and to see when I should come in.  She reassured me that I could stay home as long as I felt comfortable, even with my GBS+ status.  When I called the triage nurse later that day, she offered for me to go to the hospital or come in to be checked, and really left the decision completely up to me.  And when I got the hospital, L&D was already expecting me and had a room ready for me to go to.  The nurses who took care of me were kind and thoughtful and respectful of the fact that I was yes, a laboring mom, but also an intelligent women who didn't need to be coddled.  We laughed about some of the questions they had to ask, and they praised my demeanor through the contractions (though I'm sure they do that with everyone).  When the anesthesiologist came in to talk to me about pain medications, she started by saying that she'd read my birth plan and knew I wanted to go natural, but explained that she needed to get a consent ahead of time in case there was an emergency.  And that was how pretty much everyone was -- informed and supportive but not pushy.  It seemed like everyone had actually read my birth plan, contrary to everything I'd ever heard about having a birth plan.  And people respected it but also made me aware of my options.  They knew I wanted no separation of care.  They paged our pediatrician so Wes could talk with her about treatment for the aplasia plus untreated Strep B.  They sent in a lactation consultant each day just to check on me since they knew I was breastfeeding.  No one pushed me to send her to the nursery so that I could sleep.  No one casually suggested I give her a bottle of formula.  They were very respectful of our wishes are parents.

I'm sure the reason some people don't go to Vanderbilt or hospitals like it is the presence of residents and medical students, but with a midwife I got to skip out on all that.  And in fairness, the rooms aren't nearly as nice as what Prentice had or what presumably Baptist has.  They're a little small for a bed, cot, bassinet and all the people who come and go.  The bathrooms are a little run down, the shower makes you claustrophobic, and the towels a dinky and well used.  But for the couple extra thousands dollars we would have paid to go to Baptist -- compared to the $0 we paid to deliver at Vanderbilt -- it hardly matters.  I truly felt like I had the birth I wanted to at Vanderbilt, and it was nice being "in house" at the place where Wes works and I study.  And hey, Emme had no complaints.

A rolling stone gathers no moss

Ollie now loves the "merry-go-round" at the zoo.
He asks for it all the time!

Ollie, Emme, and I went to the zoo again this morning.  As I was packing the kids and the stroller back into the car, I realized that Emme is now 3 weeks, 3 days old, and she's been to the zoo -- twice (though I see in looking back at the blog that Oliver went to the zoo at 3 weeks, too).  She's had breakfast at the Cracker Barrel, hot chocolate at Starbucks, lunch at Frothy Monkey, dinner at Cheeseburger Charlie's, shopped at Target and the mall,  spent some unknown number of hours at Lowe's and Home Depot, and been to three doctor's appointment.  No wonder the kid is so tired.  No wonder I am.

Sweet Emme

Tiny dancer