Mom-mom left this morning. And while my life isn’t really one Simpsons reference after another, it feels a little bit like the “Sherry Bobbins” episode where a Mary Poppins-esque figure comes to the Simpson home. By the end of her stay, they’re all neat, well-attired, and speaking with British accents. But, the very instant she steps out of the house, they’re suddenly twice as bad as before she came.
Truthfully, it’s not that bad (yet). But it was mighty nice to have “mom’s home cookin’” for dinner, to be able to take soiled baby-wear and just leave it on top of the washing machine, and to be able to program SamTrak or just sleep while mom-mom held Sam.
It is 7:30 PM and no nurse has called to say that (s)he will be there in about half an hour to stick needles in little Sam’s legs. No one is coming to weigh her. To ask how many wet and dirty diapers she had, to listen to her pulse, or to her breathing.
The forms they filled out for each visit were entertaining, and at least a little troublesome. Mostly, they used the “6 Weeks — 16 Years of Age” form. Occasionally, one of them would remember to bring the correct form (Birth to 6 Weeks). There are a number of categories for them to fill out on these forms, and boxes to check within them. Many are fairly standard like vital signs (respiration, heart rate, weight, etc). Some are amusing like “Apperance” where the options were “Appropriate”, “Unkempt” and “Soiled”. Sam was always marked “Appropriate” even on her wild hair days. Some raised an eyebrow like where Samantha’s “Psycho/Social Support System” was deemed “Adequate” — the only other choice was “Poor”. Others were offensive where some of the check boxes under “Skin” were “warm”, “birthmarks”, “jaundice” and “pink”. PINK?!? OK, OUR baby happened to be pink, but only because we happen to be white-ish,tan-ish,pink-ish,freckle-ish people ourselves. When was this thing written? (Revised 10/99) Would it really be that hard to have the checkbox say something like “Good Coloration”? Or would that be albino-ist?
We have an “American Baby” magazine which has various developmental milestones for babies. One of the “Intellectual” milestones under the “1 Week” category is “Shuts out disturbing stimuli by lapsing into sleep.” This brought a couple of things to mind.
Wouldn’t it be funny if this continued into adulthood? “Oh no! The Huns are invad…ZZZZZZZ”
I wonder if that’s why she falls asleep in my arms so readily? “Oh my god, what’s that smell? ZZZZZ”
It has been pointed out in a couple of venues how remiss I’ve been in providing visual accompaniment to the Sam lifestyle. Fortunately, Mom-mom has taken several pictures, and posted them to her album at Sony’s image station. She invited me to it so that I could invite you to it:
“http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2119303560&code=18674736&mode=invite”:http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2119303560&code=18674736&mode=invite
I was at PSU Altoona recently running errands and managed to see a few people. I was impressed by the number of people who are up to date on what’s going on with Carolyn, Sam and myself based on reading my blog. It’s still disarming when there are people in France (Salut Peggy, Salut Tara) who know more details about the birth of my child than my own parents. I am also amused by who does and doesn’t read my blog on campus. I was surprised to learn that the staff assistants were up to date on the latest details, while a professor I ride with who actually studies blogs and has a 20-month old has “checked in on occasion.” I have a web stats program, but it just tells me things like which pages are most popular, and where most visitors have come from. It doesn’t tell me what I want to know. I want it to tell me “Jenn checked the blog obsessively today.” Or “Renita was conspicuously absent today.“
I don’t like to ask for help. I was raised to be an independent and self-sufficient individual, given more freedom and responsibility than most my age. This is doubly true when what I ask for help on is something that I am not only capable of doing myself, but should have already done. And it’s still the more true when I’m asking of a community of friends who have already been so incredibly generous. Still, I’m going to swallow my pride and ask. I’m referring to Sam’s nursery.
As we approach Sam’s one-week anniversary, there are a couple of elements of the birth story that I’ve not yet mentioned, but want to. But first, I can’t believe it’s been a whole week. Nor can I believe it’s been only a week. It seems a world ago that we were breathing through the contractions. At the same time, it’s been such a hectic whirlwind since, were there really 7 whole dark, night-like entities since then?
First rain
First day of life without a hospital trip
First projectile poop christening mom’s sweatpants more than 12 inches away!
First poem read to her — E.A. Poe’s _The Raven_
I know, it’s well past time for an update. What can I say? Busy day. So far, in Sam’s life, there has not been a day when she has not had to go to the hospital. Hopefully, tomorrow will break this trend. I think I mentioned before that we’ve got home health nurses coming twice a day to inject Sam with ampacillin. So far, the two nurses we’ve had have been exceptionally caring and considerate people. We do feel blessed with all the different forms of support we’ve been receiving, both personal and professional.
… now that a 5 pound baby is taking antibiotics 2x / day:
“Great, now I have to learn how to spell diarrhea.“
