Yep. Since the likelihood of this blog turning Hector-centric is pretty high, I am going to make it private in an attempt to be a responsible parent. Wait! Don't panic! If you want to continue to view occasional (okay, infrequent) updates on my life and Hector, simply send your email address to: archgrrrl@gmail.com and I will in turn send you an invite to view this blog.
Thank you for your cooperation. Carry on.
9.02.2011
8.22.2011
This One's For You Mrs. Huber!
Hi Mrs Huber! *waves*
Since I suspect you are the only person who still checks this poor forgotten little blog once in a while, this post is for you!
I don’t get to see your daughter nearly enough, but I when I do, it makes me happy. We went to see The Help last Friday evening and it did my soul good to get out and spend time with friends. Everyone is so busy these days. Do things ever slow down? I do hope so. At least at some point.
Hector turns nine months old tomorrow! I know! He has one little nubbin of a tooth that has barely cut his gums, but he uses that thing like a lethal weapon against any finger food we give him. And the kid is NOT picky when it comes to food. If he can pick it up and get it into his mouth, it's all good.
He is also crawling everywhere and climbing everything, which means we have to be ever vigilant. It’s not so much physically exhausting (although climbing up 3 flights of stairs multiple times an hour can be wearisome), as it is mentally exhausting. You have to always be ON. You know what I mean? He’s becoming very brave and letting go of whatever he’s holding onto and will stand unassisted for a few seconds. He is quite pleased with this new trick.
Speaking of tricks . . . Hector has been clapping for a couple of weeks now and just started waving over the past couple of days. It is freaking amazing how quickly they learn new skills. It seems like just last week he was a little bump on a log, and now he’s like a little person - with a personality!
Needless to say, this miniature human being pretty much consumes mine and Daniel’s existence right now. This parenting thing is not a piece of cake and I suspect it only gets harder. Maybe not physically harder, because he has to sleep through the night at some point, right? But emotionally harder. Right now the choices we make for him seem pretty instinctual and elementary. We hold him, love on him, feed him good food, laugh and play with him and do everything we can to make sure he feels safe, secure and loved. Pretty simple right now. Is it always this simple? I doubt it.
But that’s okay. We enjoy being with him more and more. He brings us such delight and I am excited when I think about my future as Hector’s Mom.
Below are a few recent pictures per your request, and I will try to post updates more frequently, even at the risk of my blog turning into a virtual Hector shrine. :)
Double fistin' the H2O:
Monkey Boy:
Showin' off those rolly legs:
"This can't possibly be food!":
Let's climb, let's climb, let's climb, let's climb...
Hangin' with Dad:
Nothin' but CUTE:
Since I suspect you are the only person who still checks this poor forgotten little blog once in a while, this post is for you!
I don’t get to see your daughter nearly enough, but I when I do, it makes me happy. We went to see The Help last Friday evening and it did my soul good to get out and spend time with friends. Everyone is so busy these days. Do things ever slow down? I do hope so. At least at some point.
Hector turns nine months old tomorrow! I know! He has one little nubbin of a tooth that has barely cut his gums, but he uses that thing like a lethal weapon against any finger food we give him. And the kid is NOT picky when it comes to food. If he can pick it up and get it into his mouth, it's all good.
He is also crawling everywhere and climbing everything, which means we have to be ever vigilant. It’s not so much physically exhausting (although climbing up 3 flights of stairs multiple times an hour can be wearisome), as it is mentally exhausting. You have to always be ON. You know what I mean? He’s becoming very brave and letting go of whatever he’s holding onto and will stand unassisted for a few seconds. He is quite pleased with this new trick.
Speaking of tricks . . . Hector has been clapping for a couple of weeks now and just started waving over the past couple of days. It is freaking amazing how quickly they learn new skills. It seems like just last week he was a little bump on a log, and now he’s like a little person - with a personality!
Needless to say, this miniature human being pretty much consumes mine and Daniel’s existence right now. This parenting thing is not a piece of cake and I suspect it only gets harder. Maybe not physically harder, because he has to sleep through the night at some point, right? But emotionally harder. Right now the choices we make for him seem pretty instinctual and elementary. We hold him, love on him, feed him good food, laugh and play with him and do everything we can to make sure he feels safe, secure and loved. Pretty simple right now. Is it always this simple? I doubt it.
But that’s okay. We enjoy being with him more and more. He brings us such delight and I am excited when I think about my future as Hector’s Mom.
Below are a few recent pictures per your request, and I will try to post updates more frequently, even at the risk of my blog turning into a virtual Hector shrine. :)
Double fistin' the H2O:
Monkey Boy:
Showin' off those rolly legs:
"This can't possibly be food!":
Let's climb, let's climb, let's climb, let's climb...
Hangin' with Dad:
Nothin' but CUTE:
5.05.2011
Just Poking My Head In The Door
I'm ashamed to say that this blog has all but been abandoned. Perhaps someday when Hector is sleeping through the night and Daniel and I are not walking zombies, I will begin posting again in a regular fashion.
Until then, here are some pictures of our 5 month old for your enjoyment :)
Until then, here are some pictures of our 5 month old for your enjoyment :)
2.27.2011
All Aboard the Guilt Train
Toot! Toot!
Last Monday I became a working mother. dunh dunh - DUNH. According to much of the media, working mothers are responsible for a sizable chunk of our children's problems (like obesity, hyperactivity and bullying to name only a few). We also apparently undermine traditional family values, emasculating our husbands and confusing our children while selfishly and irresponsibly pursuing our own lofty career goals (never mind that most women with children work because they have no other financial alternative). I think we may even be responsible for the revolution in Egypt and the protests in Wisconsin.
Can't find someone to blame? Just chalk it up to working mothers!
Le sigh.
Despite the pangs of guilt jabbing at me, it was a good week. I was happy to be back doing work I enjoy with people I like. It was nice to have a conversation that didn't involve "aah-goo, ehh-brehhh, pfttt" or similarly adorable phrases that are only adorable when coming from your 3 month old. And it was surprisingly easy to get back right back into the swing of things at the office. Of course, at about 2 o'clock every day I start to miss Hector fiercely, to the point where it becomes a distraction.
Hector was a champ adjusting to our new routine and his new daytime care givers. He's generally a pretty happy baby and he was always happy when we dropped him off and happy when we picked him up. The thing that really gets the guilt juices flowing (eww) is that by the time we pick him up at 5 o'clock, he has, at the most, 2 hours of awake time before he conks out for the night.
At one point last week I became completely unglued and cried to Daniel that Hector was going to forget who were we and was going to think Lori and Jim (his day caregivers) were his parents.
All you want is the best for your kid. Who would've thought figuring out or trying to decide what is "best" would be so difficult? I've never felt so unsure about anything in my life before - not Hector himself but the choices we make for him.
A week before he started daycare, we made the decision to switch daycare facilities. Originally we were all set for him to go to a daycare center across the street from my office. A very typical child care center where he would've have been in a classroom with 7 other 3 month olds and two adults. I wasn't completely thrilled with our option, but quality infant care in Nashville is REALLY hard to come by.
And then a space opened up at a small family daycare in our neighborhood and it seemed like a sign to make the switch. So now Hector goes to Green Acres (yes, that really is the name of the daycare) during the day where he is cared for by Lori and Jim. They are retired graphic designers from LA who moved here and have been involved in early childhood education for about 10 years. They only take 5 children at a time and only from 6 weeks old to 24 months old.
We arrive in the mornings to a warm home, clean carpets, the faint smell of coffee coming from the kitchen where I put Hector's bottles for the day in the refrigerator. He is the first one to arrive in the mornings, so he gets Jim and Lori's undivided attention for an hour. Instead of feeling like we're dropping our 3 month old infant off at school, it's more like we're dropping him off at a relative's home. The feel is much softer, more organic and less institutional.
The other children include another 3 month old, a 6 month old, a 12 month old, and a 14 month old. Hazel, Maximillian, Miette, and Nora. Those are Hector's faux-siblings during the day. Miette and Nora already call Hector by his name. The "curriculum" is gentle and age appropriate and there is outdoor time everyday the weather permits.
So far, so good. I don't worry about his well being while I'm at work. I feel confident that he is in good hands.
And yet.
The articles I read online tell me to worry about Hector becoming too attached to his care givers and then suffering a sense of loss when we have to switch him to another daycare in 2 years. To worry he will feel abandoned by me once he realizes what's going on. To worry about the myriad of "behavior issues" that somehow got attributed to children spending a large amount of time at daycare.
Y'all, it's a lot to worry about and difficult to tune out. I definitely need to re-read "The Mommy Myth: The Idealization of Motherhood and How it Has Undermined Women" by Susan Douglas and Meredith Michaels. It was a good book when I read it the first time. But I think now it will be much more relevant to my life and provide some comfort that I'm not a bad mother just because I'm a working mother.
Last Monday I became a working mother. dunh dunh - DUNH. According to much of the media, working mothers are responsible for a sizable chunk of our children's problems (like obesity, hyperactivity and bullying to name only a few). We also apparently undermine traditional family values, emasculating our husbands and confusing our children while selfishly and irresponsibly pursuing our own lofty career goals (never mind that most women with children work because they have no other financial alternative). I think we may even be responsible for the revolution in Egypt and the protests in Wisconsin.
Can't find someone to blame? Just chalk it up to working mothers!
Le sigh.
Despite the pangs of guilt jabbing at me, it was a good week. I was happy to be back doing work I enjoy with people I like. It was nice to have a conversation that didn't involve "aah-goo, ehh-brehhh, pfttt" or similarly adorable phrases that are only adorable when coming from your 3 month old. And it was surprisingly easy to get back right back into the swing of things at the office. Of course, at about 2 o'clock every day I start to miss Hector fiercely, to the point where it becomes a distraction.
Hector was a champ adjusting to our new routine and his new daytime care givers. He's generally a pretty happy baby and he was always happy when we dropped him off and happy when we picked him up. The thing that really gets the guilt juices flowing (eww) is that by the time we pick him up at 5 o'clock, he has, at the most, 2 hours of awake time before he conks out for the night.
At one point last week I became completely unglued and cried to Daniel that Hector was going to forget who were we and was going to think Lori and Jim (his day caregivers) were his parents.
All you want is the best for your kid. Who would've thought figuring out or trying to decide what is "best" would be so difficult? I've never felt so unsure about anything in my life before - not Hector himself but the choices we make for him.
A week before he started daycare, we made the decision to switch daycare facilities. Originally we were all set for him to go to a daycare center across the street from my office. A very typical child care center where he would've have been in a classroom with 7 other 3 month olds and two adults. I wasn't completely thrilled with our option, but quality infant care in Nashville is REALLY hard to come by.
And then a space opened up at a small family daycare in our neighborhood and it seemed like a sign to make the switch. So now Hector goes to Green Acres (yes, that really is the name of the daycare) during the day where he is cared for by Lori and Jim. They are retired graphic designers from LA who moved here and have been involved in early childhood education for about 10 years. They only take 5 children at a time and only from 6 weeks old to 24 months old.
We arrive in the mornings to a warm home, clean carpets, the faint smell of coffee coming from the kitchen where I put Hector's bottles for the day in the refrigerator. He is the first one to arrive in the mornings, so he gets Jim and Lori's undivided attention for an hour. Instead of feeling like we're dropping our 3 month old infant off at school, it's more like we're dropping him off at a relative's home. The feel is much softer, more organic and less institutional.
The other children include another 3 month old, a 6 month old, a 12 month old, and a 14 month old. Hazel, Maximillian, Miette, and Nora. Those are Hector's faux-siblings during the day. Miette and Nora already call Hector by his name. The "curriculum" is gentle and age appropriate and there is outdoor time everyday the weather permits.
So far, so good. I don't worry about his well being while I'm at work. I feel confident that he is in good hands.
And yet.
The articles I read online tell me to worry about Hector becoming too attached to his care givers and then suffering a sense of loss when we have to switch him to another daycare in 2 years. To worry he will feel abandoned by me once he realizes what's going on. To worry about the myriad of "behavior issues" that somehow got attributed to children spending a large amount of time at daycare.
Y'all, it's a lot to worry about and difficult to tune out. I definitely need to re-read "The Mommy Myth: The Idealization of Motherhood and How it Has Undermined Women" by Susan Douglas and Meredith Michaels. It was a good book when I read it the first time. But I think now it will be much more relevant to my life and provide some comfort that I'm not a bad mother just because I'm a working mother.
1.04.2011
Life After Birth
It's like waking up after severe trauma to a world which has changed so dramatically it's nearly unrecognizable.
Life hasn't been the same since 12:26 am on November 23rd, 2010. As many of you know, that's when Hector was cut out of my uterus by a skilled team of medical professionals at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, after nearly 47 hours of labor.
That's right. Remember that whole plan to have a low stress, unmedicated, natural birth? Yeah, that plan got fucked, and subsequently nothing has gone as I'd expected or planned. Well, nothing except that Daniel and I have a healthy and perfect little boy in our life now.
Here's how it went down:
Eleven days before my official Due Date, homeboy decided he'd had enough of being cramped in my uterus. Since I'm so far behind on updating this goddamn blog, I'm going to attempt to make a long story short.
Essentially, I was in the transition phase of labor - which is when a woman transitions from active labor to active pushing, involving a period of intense contractions that come on hard and fast, one right after the other, and typically only lasts up to about 45 minutes - for 5 excruciating hours.
The pain was UN-BEARABLE. I do not say that lightly or with any amount of drama.
Knowing we had wanted an unmedicated birth, the midwife eventually gently suggested an epidural so that I could get some rest. And by that point, I really didn't care, I just wanted the pain to stop.
The epidural is a story in and of itself. Suffice it to say, teaching hospitals are not always the best environment to be in when one is experiencing intense pain; and, my husband proved himself once again to be my champion.
So after the sweet relief of the epidural, I slept for two hours and by the time I woke up, all the stars were in alignment to PUSH that kid out. Except he wouldn't come out.
After an inspection by an OB, it was determined that homeboy had gotten himself wedged in my pelvis in a transverse position during my prolonged labor. That's when we were told the only way the kid was getting out of there alive was through surgery.
It may sound melodramatic, but this news was absolutely devastating for me. 1.) After all our meticulous preparations and being in labor for 47 hours, I felt like a complete failure. And 2.) I was beyond terrified of surgery. I had not mentally or emotionally prepared for even the possibility of surgery, and that was a huge mistake.
I'm not going to lie, the whole birth experience was beyond traumatic for me, and even now, two months later, it makes me tear up writing about it. It's a lot to process, and I have no doubt that many women suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder and post-partum depression after a difficult birth.
My life was so suddenly and so stunningly altered by this tiny human being. Besides the perfectly normal insecurities and uncertainties of caring for a helpless little person, I struggled with overwhelming feelings of inadequacy and failure. Recovering from major abdominal surgery left me physically incapable of caring for my baby the way I wanted to or felt I should be able to.
Daniel and I had requested no-separation care for Hector during our stay at the hospital, which meant that he would room-in and not be in the nursery at all. Again, failure with a capital F. We soon realized that with me being incapacitated with post-surgery limitations, and suffering from edema and spinal migraines, that we needed the help of the nursery just to get through those four days in the hospital.
The first 6 weeks post-hospital were rough, y'all. Nothing can prepare you for your first child. And maybe that's a good thing. Because without actually feeling the intense love and joy that only your newborn baby can elicit, knowledge of how new parenthood utterly destroys you, would surely deter people from procreation.
But here's the thing: It's Worth It.
Dear god, I heard that over and over from other parents during my pregnancy and I thought, "yeah yeah, I know...it's hard but it's worth it, I get it". I SO didn't get it. I don't think it's even possible to get it until you hold that baby in your arms and feel him breathing against your chest. You don't get it until he's looking at you with his big blue eyes and they crinkle up with laughter. You don't get it until he holds your pinkie finger in his hand while he eats.
Hector is now 10 weeks old and life is just getting better and better. I am becoming more confident in my abilities and Hector is adjusting beautifully to life outside the womb.
Life hasn't been the same since 12:26 am on November 23rd, 2010. As many of you know, that's when Hector was cut out of my uterus by a skilled team of medical professionals at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, after nearly 47 hours of labor.
That's right. Remember that whole plan to have a low stress, unmedicated, natural birth? Yeah, that plan got fucked, and subsequently nothing has gone as I'd expected or planned. Well, nothing except that Daniel and I have a healthy and perfect little boy in our life now.
Here's how it went down:
Eleven days before my official Due Date, homeboy decided he'd had enough of being cramped in my uterus. Since I'm so far behind on updating this goddamn blog, I'm going to attempt to make a long story short.
Essentially, I was in the transition phase of labor - which is when a woman transitions from active labor to active pushing, involving a period of intense contractions that come on hard and fast, one right after the other, and typically only lasts up to about 45 minutes - for 5 excruciating hours.
The pain was UN-BEARABLE. I do not say that lightly or with any amount of drama.
Knowing we had wanted an unmedicated birth, the midwife eventually gently suggested an epidural so that I could get some rest. And by that point, I really didn't care, I just wanted the pain to stop.
The epidural is a story in and of itself. Suffice it to say, teaching hospitals are not always the best environment to be in when one is experiencing intense pain; and, my husband proved himself once again to be my champion.
So after the sweet relief of the epidural, I slept for two hours and by the time I woke up, all the stars were in alignment to PUSH that kid out. Except he wouldn't come out.
After an inspection by an OB, it was determined that homeboy had gotten himself wedged in my pelvis in a transverse position during my prolonged labor. That's when we were told the only way the kid was getting out of there alive was through surgery.
It may sound melodramatic, but this news was absolutely devastating for me. 1.) After all our meticulous preparations and being in labor for 47 hours, I felt like a complete failure. And 2.) I was beyond terrified of surgery. I had not mentally or emotionally prepared for even the possibility of surgery, and that was a huge mistake.
I'm not going to lie, the whole birth experience was beyond traumatic for me, and even now, two months later, it makes me tear up writing about it. It's a lot to process, and I have no doubt that many women suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder and post-partum depression after a difficult birth.
My life was so suddenly and so stunningly altered by this tiny human being. Besides the perfectly normal insecurities and uncertainties of caring for a helpless little person, I struggled with overwhelming feelings of inadequacy and failure. Recovering from major abdominal surgery left me physically incapable of caring for my baby the way I wanted to or felt I should be able to.
Daniel and I had requested no-separation care for Hector during our stay at the hospital, which meant that he would room-in and not be in the nursery at all. Again, failure with a capital F. We soon realized that with me being incapacitated with post-surgery limitations, and suffering from edema and spinal migraines, that we needed the help of the nursery just to get through those four days in the hospital.
The first 6 weeks post-hospital were rough, y'all. Nothing can prepare you for your first child. And maybe that's a good thing. Because without actually feeling the intense love and joy that only your newborn baby can elicit, knowledge of how new parenthood utterly destroys you, would surely deter people from procreation.
But here's the thing: It's Worth It.
Dear god, I heard that over and over from other parents during my pregnancy and I thought, "yeah yeah, I know...it's hard but it's worth it, I get it". I SO didn't get it. I don't think it's even possible to get it until you hold that baby in your arms and feel him breathing against your chest. You don't get it until he's looking at you with his big blue eyes and they crinkle up with laughter. You don't get it until he holds your pinkie finger in his hand while he eats.
Hector is now 10 weeks old and life is just getting better and better. I am becoming more confident in my abilities and Hector is adjusting beautifully to life outside the womb.
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