The Great Holiday Write-Up

Well, I totally blew by Thanksgiving, but I'll try to cram the past two months into a reasonable number of points.

1) Danny T is continues to be awesome. Sometime in mid-November, he drops to from four night feedings to two. I can now get four hours of continuous sleep and a bit of a supply built up so no more formula even when I'm gone. Yay!

2) We all fly home to Utah for Thanksgiving so Danny T can be blessed there. Flying is not nearly as scary for me now that my anxiety is better controlled. It is still not something I'd do for fun, though. We have a lovely time visiting with lots and lots of family members, which is why I decided to bless him in Utah in the first place. Special thanks and mention to all of those who traveled from Montana and Monticello for the occasion.

3) I finish the semester. I enjoyed my classes and got a 4.0. (This is less impressive in grad school, but still impressive when you give birth during the semester.)

4) Nick comes to visit the week before Christmas. He and Danny T have really taken to each other, so it was nice that he was able to come for so long. It was also nice to have a third-party to switch off baby duties with, another adult to converse with (especially when Paul was at work), and a third person to play board games with. It's hard to play some games with just two.

5) A small part of my thesis that I presented back in 2010 at the Literature and Belief Conference is accepted for publication. Also, my review of "To Die and Not Decay" is published in Early Medieval China.

6) Christmas! It's way more fun with a kid. I'm pretty sure Danny T got his weight in toys. Which is extra impressive considering he's a big guy. We never really got to dinner, but we enjoyed snacking on the parts throughout the day.

7) Danny T gets his first real cold. He is not too miserable, but he is annoyed by us constantly wiping his nose and eyes. His little coughs are very cute, and not too frequent or wet. He has a doctor's appointment tomorrow anyway.

I'll try to put up a bunch of pictures later today, since I know that's what you're all interested in.

2 Month Update

Well, it is slightly late, but technically he's not three months until next week, so it still counts. We're going to Utah for Thanksgiving and to bless him, so there should be more pictures and whatnot next week.

Anyway, here's his official two-month portrait.



And some cute shot I took.

One Month

Danny T is one month old tomorrow, so I thought I'd do a little photo timeline, cleverly posting more pictures and looking like I've been keeping track of these things.

Here's him right after he was born (seriously, like seconds).

Here's him at one day.

Here's him during the first two weeks.

Here's him at three weeks.

And here's him at one month. Look at how big he's gotten!

The Story of Danny T

As most, if not all of you know by now, Daniel Tennyson Muhlestein was born on August 27, 2011. The night before, Paul and I had had a late dinner out. I wasn't really hungry, but it was nice to get out. I awoke a little before 5:30 am to my water breaking. I don't know if you've ever experience that, but there was sooooooo much fluid. It just kept gushing and gushing. So I woke up Paul, apologized for getting the futon all wet and took a shower. I actually didn't feel any contractions until the shower. Paul tried to time them and began to get very concerned when they were less like five minutes apart (when you're supposed to go to the hospital) and more like three minutes apart. I called the hospital and they said if the water was broken, to come in within an hour. I ate a granola bar, Paul grabbed the bag, and we were off. The contractions got worse in the car and I began to worry we were never going to get to the hospital.

But we did. It took FOREVER to get registered and heaven forbid they let me go into the ward and leave Paul to fill out the endless paperwork. Then we stood there and waited for some woman in a rascal to deign to leave her station and weigh me. By now the contractions were really starting to hurt and not very far apart, but no one but me (and probably Paul) seemed to care. A nurse finally came to check and lo and behold, I was already six cm dilated. She was quite surprised. That got things moving. By 7 am, I was admitted and had my epidural. I'm pretty sure it was the fastest an anesthesiologist has ever arrived and administered one. It was not nearly as slow or unpleasant as I had prepared myself for. Around 11, the doctor arrived and decided to crank things up with pitocin since I was so close. Maybe this was a mistake, but maybe not. Certainly, I'll never know. It did its job and I started pushing around noon. He was so low, the heart monitor couldn't be attached and I had no idea how to push. Seriously, how do you know what "push with your butt" means until you find the position where they say you're doing it? The doctor was uncomfortable with how long things were taking without being able to see the heart rate, but he came out just fine. He got whisked off to be checked out and Paul went over to watch. I wasn't worried since he started crying right away. 8 lbs, 5 oz; 21.5 in long and two thumbs on each hand. We definitely weren't expecting that, but oh well. He was (and is) still very cute.

Meanwhile, I was getting stitched up. It was taking forever. The doctor had a vague air of barely contained panic, but the L and D nurse (who was AWESOME) didn't seem particularly concerned, so I figured there was nothing to worry about. After 30 minutes and an ultrasound, I started to feel pretty lousy. I threw up and began shaking violently. They told us I needed surgery to control the bleeding. Paul went up to the nursery with the baby and I went to the OR. Everything went fine and we were reunited in the recovery unit. The next two days were a mix of sleep-deprivation and discomfort. Hospitals are terrible places for sleeping and I was frequently monitored the first day between the blood loss and passing out in the bathroom. (Note: I might not have if the nurse hadn't insisted I keep my head up. Everyone knows if you're feeling light-headed, you put your head down.) At one point in the wee hours of the morning, two nurses, two nursing assistants, the OB, the resident, and the pediatrician all came within a two-hour period. Every time I would start to drift off, another person would come in. It got comical.

Several different pediatricians came in. Partially to see his thumbs (the residents seemed most interested in that, it's something they don't usually get to see) and partially to disagree over whether his urethral opening was abnormally small and fused to his foreskin as well. It is very nerve-racking to have all the doctors disagree with each other. As it turned out, his opening is just fine and an old-fashioned circumcision fixed the foreskin problem. If you can't tell, I'm still a bit annoyed about being so worried by about something that turned out to be nothing. Parents worry enough as it is, don't add to it with words like "pediatric urologist" unnecessarily!

Anyway, we're all good now. Everyone is happy and healthy and one of us (him) is very snuggily with a most-kissable head.

Ladies and Gentleman, Place Your Bets

Paul and I have taken to trying to guess when the wee one will arrive. We had high hopes for the 14th, but that was primarily for convenience/insurance reasons. So we've gone back to the drawing board. Here's our guesses so far:

Jennifer--Aug. 23

Paul--night of Aug. 20

Just as a reminder, the official due date is Aug. 29. Price is Right rules, person closest without going over is the winner. The winner gets...I don't know, the first picture or something.

Poor Paul

Poor Paul.

I threw up on him in the car. Again. This is the third or fourth time I've thrown up on him in a car. Somehow--voodoo or a terrible gypsy curse, no doubt--despite the fact that I've only thrown up ten or fifteen times this entire pregnancy, at least a third of them have been on Paul. At least this morning was only water.

Poor Paul.

Sometimes I am a Terrible Pregnant Woman

Sometimes I am a terrible pregnant woman.

I thought about this last night as I lay awake in the wee hours of the morning.

I do not read baby books.

I pay very little attention to what I eat.

I have interviewed no pediatricians.

Listening to his heartbeat at the doctor's office does nothing for me.

His nursery is not all set up--he doesn't even have a nursery.

Feeling him move is not magical, it just hurts.

We put together his crib last night and I realized I should have built the cat tree first because the cat tree parts take up more room.

That's right, I put the cats before the baby.

I am a terrible pregnant woman.

I wish to be clear.

I am very attached to the wee Danny T.

I am very glad that he is healthy and (as much as a fetus can be) happy.

I would be devastated if that were not the case.

But...

I would like a way of interacting with him that doesn't involve one of us whaling on the other

Or constant heartburn.

I want to be able to move about comfortably.

I would like not to down seven pills, supplements, and capsules a day

Because he is sucking me dry.

I am sick of waiting 30-45 minutes for an appt that takes 10 mins.

Every other week.

(Now every week! Yay!)

Did I mention it takes 20 mins just to drive there?

I am happy to have this baby, but I am SICK of being pregnant.