Let’s start with the 6-week growth spurt. Wow, could have used a warning on that one. The first day ended with a 3-hour marathon feeding session. Seriously. His frustration and hunger eventually overpowered the movie and we never did finish The Fisher King. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any bottles on reserve so it was a long night.

It did motivate us to do some reading on milk production, and apparently the emptier you are, the more you’ll produce. Whenever there was time in between feedings, I pumped. That meant for about a week I was tethered, either to the baby or a machine. Even temporarily saturated, Milo was still fussy. We were all feeling his growing pains.

But he did put my milk to use: at his two month check-up yesterday, he weighed 11.5 lbs, moving up from last month’s 8th percentile to 46th. That’s averaging a daily 1.5 oz weight gain. At this rate, he’ll be 25 lbs by summer; in two years, he’ll hit 100 lbs. Ben started a plot of his weight over time. Surely the graph will curve but currently, it’s perfectly linear. He’s in the 76th percentile for height and 10th for head circumference, so in other words, he’s relatively tall, thin, and has a small head. Sound familiar?

We estimate he’s drinking 4-5 oz at each feeding, two hours apart. Ben read somewhere that’s the equivalent to us eating 2.5 lbs per meal. No wonder babies need so many diaper changes! I use a timer to keep track of the feedings, but I don’t need to: Milo’s internal hunger clock is inexplicably prompt.

Milo looks like an actual baby now: his cheeks are adorably fuller, body no longer wrinkly or frail, even his eyelashes are growing out (I didn’t realize they come later!). Each stage of his growth is novel and exciting, but at the same time I’m already feeling nostalgic. I reluctantly retired all the newborn size clothing. I look back at the early photos and remember stroking the peach fuzz on the side of his face. Now I understand how precious and brief the infant stage is.

Look at that chest and belly!

Ben’s parents arrived right before Christmas, and around this time, seven weeks, he started to be a happy and alert baby. His life was no longer eat, sleep, cry. He makes faces while awake. Everyone has witnessed a smile, one which we decided is going to be a gorgeous one. But as each of us wants to believe he loves us the most, it’s questionable at whom or what he flashed that grin. It’s certainly not repeatable on demand, or more likely our funny faces are actually rather boring. My favorite are the sounds, his first “coos” and “gahs”. They’re typical of a baby, but it’s so cute to watch him work on getting the sound out (takes a few minutes) and to at last hear his sweet voice. I have yet to get it on video.

Milo's Christmas outfit

Though Milo isn’t quite making strong eye contact or obviously responding to our voices yet, he really has begun to soak in the world around him. He listens and turns his head to new lights and sounds and follows objects, that is, of interest. The digital frame from Ben’s parents and a few NYT magazine ads have turned the diaper changing table from misery to a hang out station. Ben has taken him on many tours of the house, which include reading the bookshelves, learning some art history, and compiling a list of things we’ve never noticed before and ought to fix. And like father like son, Milo loves watching the fire.

Milo loves getting his diaper changed now.

He’s very active, almost restless at times. Again, sound familiar? Sometimes we have to put him down so he can do his leg and arm “exercises” at his leisure. Last week, around eight weeks, he started to find his hands to his mouth, grasp things that pass through his fingers, and taste anything that tempts his lips. He doesn’t detest tummy time but gets bored of it pretty quickly. Still, we need to do more because he continues to prefer resting his head to the right. I don’t want to deal with a helmet!

Now on to the sleep. This really deserves a post on its own, so I’ll try to be brief and to the point: Milo is a terrible sleeper at night. We’ve tried many, many set ups. The cosleeper was short lived, the bouncy seat gave false hopes, do we really have to listen to a sound file of a dishwasher all night, how many times must we learn that swaddled is best, and he’s not fooled by the pinky or pacifier.

We reluctantly put him in our bed. Even though I sometimes lay awake watching him sleep next to me, you’d be surprised how much space a 23″ person can take. The feedings were still two to three hours apart and he slept poorly, grunting, squirming, waking himself up. He was grumpy from his lack of rest; I was so sleep deprived that I’d have almost-fainting spells while standing.

Finally, we gave into the failproof position: sleeping on us. The first five hour stretch was unheard of. I didn’t know what to do! Really. I was very uncomfortable, wishing I had planned the pillow support better, but not enough to adjust my position, and my breasts were too full of milk. But no complaints; it was a sign that this baby wasn’t starving and *could* go longer than two hours! A few more experiments and it was clear Milo prefers being on his tummy. We didn’t have the courage to ask our doctor for an OK to go back to the 70s, so we’re sticking with “back is best”. Sigh.

The other adjustment we’ve been working on is his day and night schedule. As he became more awake, he’d start at 8pm and go strong for five hours. While he was a ringer for NYE, we aren’t ready to party every night of 2012. Slowly and gently we’re pulling the schedule back, but what a conundrum to wake a sleeping baby!

He sleeps!

Overall, Milo is generally an easily readable baby. Either he wants food, a diaper change, or is tired. When he’s extra fussy, the bouncy ball only lasts so long. Sometimes he just wants to be held. That’s ok; Ben gets a workout from his “speed-skating” and I’m practicing my Waltz. Sigh. What wouldn’t we do for this irresistible face?

More pictures on FlickR.

On 11/11/11, we had the surprise of our life. Three weeks early, Annie’s water broke with no warning. We rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night, completely unprepared: no bag packed, no name picked, and – despite all the classes we took – no clue what to do. It really felt like a miracle nine hours later when Milo Minh Chaffin was born at 9:18am, 6 lbs 5 oz, 20 inches.

Life before Milo

Annie was cruising through pregnancy. She paddled with her dragon boat team up until the last race, enjoyed every match of her tennis summer league, and luckily never felt sick. Pregnancy wasn’t so bad, right? That is, until seven months when we had our family’s first scare. Annie went into early labor at 31 weeks. After a long night, we checked into the hospital and thanks to modern medicine (epsom salts — who knew?), the labor stopped. The doctor ordered bed rest for the next month. Now that was hard! Lying on a couch is only fun if you should be doing something else.

Entering the Anniemaniacs’ 9th season, honestly we were skeptical. Nearly half the team was new this year, and we were trying a new, punishing training regimen which could easily backfire. But at all six races this year, we outdid our expectations and took home hardware. The new paddlers don’t believe us when we say dragon boating really isn’t this easy! And for us, it was the most fun season yet with our Maniac family: the camaraderie, good humor, and dedication of everyone on the team are great to be around. We have no idea what we’ll do next season. How can we paddle? How can we quit?

Annie never seemed to be saturated with tennis, calling on her Team Soft Serve at any chance to play, and fulfilled her new year’s resolution to win a tennis tournament – three times! Of course that was in doubles; now she has to try it alone.

After a year of waiting and obsessive web research, Ben became a very proud electric car owner when our Nissan Leaf arrived in March. FAQ: it goes 80 highway miles, takes 4-5 hours to charge at home, and goes 150 miles for the price of a gallon of gas. And we haven’t been to a gas station since July! Annie’s just excited to have a car with cupholders again.

In April we drove 1000 miles to Joe’s Valley, Utah for a climbing trip with our friends from the gym, otherwise known as Team Group Send. We found out Annie was pregnant just before leaving, so Ben did most of the climbing and gave her an excessive, super-paranoid spot. It rained and snowed the whole time (in the desert!) and the heavy, sticky mud made everything more fun. Still, we’d never miss out on the annual “spring break” trip with TGS.

We are both reaching big milestones at Intel. Annie hit 10 years (which means one more week of vacation) and Ben is eligible for his second sabbatical – that’s 14 years! – next September. Annie changed roles and became a manager, which obviously suits her more than sitting in a cube. She can’t seem to resist planning things, and this year’s Intel 10k race reached 3000 participants. Ben’s work is demanding and stressful, but he was able to travel to Barcelona where he enjoyed prosciutto and goat cheese with every meal. The Sagrada Familia cathedral is worth a trip all by itself.

2011 is also a big birthday year. Our house turned 100 years old, and despite Ben’s excavation projects in an endless effort to fix the wet basement, it’s still standing. The kitchen got a minor makeover when Ben refinished the floor, one of those educational projects which teaches you the value of hiring a professional. But the most impressive celebration is for Annie’s grandfather in Vietnam, whom Milo wished happy 100^th birthday via Skype.

Life with Milo

We knew having a baby would be hard, but only now do we comprehend how all-consuming it can be. Annie is wondering if she would even remember how to sleep through the night if Milo were to allow it (Ben says, “YES”). Diaper changes aren’t as bad as Ben feared and he’s even been heard discussing scatological topics he swore he would never mention. Annie is amused at how often Ben uses the word “cute”. Yes, even though we’re exhausted and days have become a blur, we are smitten. We ask where the time goes yet we’re guilty of spending hours simply watching him. Milo is a very expressive baby; his repertoire is ever-expanding and each one is, well, cute!

Our holidays have been filled with family, who were eager to come help and hold their grandson (and we don’t blame them!). Annie loved having her mom for an extended stay, not only for the home-cooked meals but for the many afternoons of hanging out on the couch as she rested or nursed. Annie’s dad joined them for Thanksgiving and happily held Milo through all the dinner preparations. Ben’s parents just spent two weeks here over Christmas and New Year’s. Despite their offers, we spared them the night shift, but their help made the days a much more relaxing vacation for us. And we’re so lucky to have Tata Chippy: resident aunt, professional photographer, and Milo’s official nap companion.

We’re gradually easing back into life outside the house. Annie is gently running and playing tennis again (and feeling the effects of 10 weeks of enforced inactivity!); Ben gets out for a run a few days a week and as usual has the Hagg Lake 25k in February looming to keep him motivated. Milo already has a waiver on file at the climbing gym, where he loves to sleep through the hubbub in his carseat.

We feel incredibly loved by all the support and celebrations from our family and friends…YOU. Thank you for the advice, the gifts, care packages, hand-me-downs, meals, visits, emails, cards, phone calls, FB messages… It goes on and on, and though you can’t grant us sleep, you’ve given us the coziest welcome into the community of parents.

We hope you had a wonderful holiday and look forward to lots of play dates in 2012!

Love,
Annie, Ben, and… MILO!

]]> http://meannie.wordpress.com/2012/01/04/2011-annual-letter/feed/ 1 meannie Day 13 35 weeks, at Manzanita, OR VTC French Singles TGS at Joe's Valley 546_081311JR Morning! Day 9 - Staring contest Day 18: Photoshoot with Tata Chippy Day 26: Ewok Food coma Day 7 Day 8 Family photo http://meannie.wordpress.com/2011/12/19/me-and-wilson/ http://meannie.wordpress.com/2011/12/19/me-and-wilson/#comments Tue, 20 Dec 2011 01:56:10 +0000 meannie http://meannie.wordpress.com/?p=1918 ]]> Last week began my venture as the stay-home parent. With mom gone, Chippy off to France for the holidays, and Ben in a face-to-face meeting all week, often not home until past 9pm, I was solo and nervous. Was I prepared for the unexpected? Where would be that extra hand when I’d need it?

Obviously Milo and I survived, and it might even be going — knock on wood — well, at least, at this instant as he naps and I have time to write a blog (I gave up on one-handed typing).

I was worried how to do anything in between feeding and holding him. That I’d go crazy sitting on the couch. I can’t feel helpless because once I do, I act it. So I opted to not take much-needed naps with baby on chest, and instead made plans to leave the house, my shelter. What if he cried inconsolably? Pardon my language, but what if there is a blowout? And how do I time things so it’s in between feedings, a strict two-hour window? Duh Annie, whip out the guns. And so while eating lunch with a friend at Elephants Delicatessen, we had our first unplanned public feeding and diaper change. I forgot my cover so I clumsily used a blanket for privacy. I felt bad for folks’ appetites as he loudly let one rip in the small cafe. Fortunately, my friend ushered us over to the Nordstrom’s women’s lounge, equipped with a changing table and couches.

One activity, preferably in the afternoon, is plenty. The next day I may have overdone it: a trip to the airport, a walk with a friend who also just had a baby (born three weeks later than Milo, on his due date no less), and then tennis. I only had time for a half-feeding before the reserved court time and sure enough after thirty minutes Milo got bored of listening to the ball. Another day, driving home from a work holiday party, I gave into the crying and pulled over into a parking lot.

Challenging moments are in the morning (by that, I really mean 10am because, hey, I sleep when he does) when I’m eager to start the day. If he’s in a good mood, he’ll hang out in the bouncy seat, and that’s when I go. Glass of water, bagel, put on the wrap, bathroom…Wait, do I go to the bathroom, or focus on transporting all the necessary Milo-soothers (bouncy ball and speakers to blast white noise to name a few) from the bedroom night shift to downstairs? Such decisions.

Another difficult time is when he’s upset even after I whip out the guns. I don’t have much else to offer when he’s still hungry after a feeding. It’s happened several times; we think he’s going through a growth spurt to cross over from 8 to 9 lbs (!). After learning a mommy friend’s record pumping session and feeling like a dripping faucet compared to her fountain, I’ve started to be more diligent about post-feeding pumping to hopefully get more milk. But again, I don’t recommend doing that one-handed either.

To help with the coveted hands-free situation, I got obsessed with the wrap. It’s essentially a super long scarf which you wrap across the body to create a carrier for the baby. Thanks to YouTube, I tried all sorts of holds: hug up against my chest, tucked into my body for naps, and even nursing hands-free. OK, I wasn’t quite able to master feeding and typing at the same time, but I did get one hand available, and that opens a lot of opportunity.

Milo still hasn’t quite fully shifted to our time zone and takes full naps whenever he pleases and continues his constant feeding schedule through the night. Maybe we shouldn’t dress him like he’s going to a PJ party everywhere. But the past few days we’re seeing a small breakthrough; more in a later blog post after we’ve collected more data from our experiments.

Milo is more alert. He’s entertaining tummy time, my Rorschach tests, I’m catching up on my Dr. Seuss while (I think) he looks at the contrasting pictures, and hopefully one of us is getting smarter with the classical music.

But hanging out with a newborn brings me to the title of this blog, which is in reference to the movie Castaway. Any other parents out there know what I’m talking about? Talking to the baby is like talking to Wilson, the volleyball that keeps Tom Hanks company during four years of solitude on an island. At least my monologue has a listener with the sweetest eyes.

And btw, I took too long and had to finish this post one-handed

Milo is one month old. He is still very much a newborn, probably not much different than others, except that he’s ours. So we get to write all about him!

Milo is pushing a whopping 8 lbs. That’s 2 lbs. more than since he came home from the hospital, gaining the average ounce a day. His feedings are two hours apart, ’round the clock, and has no problem with the bottle, which we introduced in the second week and give daily to keep the habit. He still feels very small, but even that little extra weight can be admired in his chubbier cheeks and thighs.

Don’t be deceived: this little boy is strong. He puts up a fight at almost every diaper change, bending his legs as we try to secure the diaper and then locking them as we try to snap on the PJ legs. He hates a dirty diaper though and is achieving new levels of decibels. In general, he dislikes being exposed so the bath process is, ahem, still being refined. He prefers to turn his head to the right so we should start tummy time. For the time being it’s been replaced with numerous, extended naps on our chests. His arms flail less uncontrollably and are now included in full body stretches. He still doesn’t know they’re his so built-in mitts are key. It remains to be seen whether he really likes being swaddled, but at the moment, it’s part of the bedtime routine.

“Bedtime”. Milo hasn’t quite figured out night or day. Each night is a wild card. A good night is waking every two hours to eat. Other times he’s been in crazy hyper mode: wide eyes, frantic breathing, manic hunger. Is he nocturnal? Or maybe he just wants to visit his cousin in France. We caved: he sleeps best in our bed. But we haven’t given up on the cosleeper yet! There’s just only so much experimentation you can trade off for sleep.

My favorite feature of Milo are his eyes. Like all babies, he always looks into the light. He also likes contrast; one way to calm him down is on the bouncy ball in front of the multi-colored bookshelf. Milo’s awake time is small but rich, including story time, walks in the sling, hanging out by the fire, and joining us at the table. The book of the month is his namesake, The Phantom Tollbooth. Ben and Tata Chippy compete who gets to read or hold Milo; I’ve honestly missed enough chapters that I’ll catch round 2. Luckily Milo loves the sling and carseat, so he’s enjoyed walks on 23rd, hiked on the Wildwood, and snuck into his first beer garden.

Like I said, things are moving fast. Milo grew out of his first hat, the newborn insert for the carseat, and we’re not going to restock the newborn size diapers. He has a gmail account and a college savings fund. At both Intel and the climbing gym, we had to sign a waiver for him being under 18. The first month was exhausting and sweet. Wonder what the next 215 will be like!

Enjoy many more pictures on FlickR.

I knew after the baby was born things would be different. I didn’t realize it’d still be focused on me. Well, kinda… During the pregnancy, you take care of your body to provide for the baby. That doesn’t change once the baby arrives; in fact, existing solely for the baby is even more in demand. Welcome to the 4th trimester.

Let’s start with breastfeeding. Talk about my body no longer being a private, personal thing. At the hospital, several nurses stepped right in to help me get a good latch, squeezing my breasts to stimulate the milk, telling me I have great nipples for feeding. Oh, thanks? When I got hooked up to the breast pump, I officially turned into a milk-making machine. At some point it felt more awkward to cover myself. At least the “boob whisperer”, a highly recommended lactation consultant best described by a mother friend as a wise sage, made the experience much gentler for me.

Since I’m nursing, I still watch what I eat. Organic, vitamins, drinking milk to make milk, consuming enough calories, and do cabbage and Brussels sprouts really give the baby gas? But hey, now I can add sushi and bacon to the regime!

Then there’s the recovery. Some say it takes six weeks; my doctor said I could try activity after two. At three, I’m ready–itching–but need to ease back into it slowly. Last week I put on my running shoes for the first time since July; I came home walking. Today I’m hoping to pick up a tennis racquet, though most likely it’ll be short court. But I’ll take any dose of fresh air, vitamin D. It has been two months since I went on bed rest and many have commented on how pale I am.

I have a new body. After one week I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight but not waistline, and that first hill up the Wildwood trail will be brutal. Before exercise was my drug; now I need to make a serious effort to make the time and energy for it. Here’s to still being able to do pull ups.

This lifestyle is an adjustment. Days can’t be planned; productivity can’t be tracked; this time off work isn’t an opportunity to get other things done. I’m winging each day, and other than doctor appointments, not adding events to my normally well-maintained and full Google calendar. I am hoping to have more social outings, or innings (can I use that?).

It can be challenging, for instance, when I’m on zero hours of sleep, tied to the couch for cluster feeds like, as another mother friend remembered, a human udder. I feel guilty when I’m eager to hand him off to squeeze in a shower. Other days, the two-hour sleep stretches are like power naps on steroids, and I’m raring to go. I am incredibly grateful to have Chippy and my mom to help. One extra set of hands, to grab that thing, or to whip up some food, is precious; plus, they’re great company and can handle my moods.

After next week, I’ll be completely on my own for a week. Oh boy. Those who are free during the day may be getting some texts or phone calls

"Belly" photo at 40 weeks!

First, a late birth announcement. Meet Milo Minh Chaffin. He decided to come early after all and chose a full moon on 11/11/11. We think it means either he’s very lucky or a werewolf, albeit a tiny one at 6 lbs. 5 oz. and 20 in. long.

The delivery

Don’t worry, I won’t go into details, but I will say it was not what we expected. Everyone, the baby books, and classes prepared us for something long and gradual. But my labor was a bit cliche: my water broke a little after midnight, we rushed to the hospital completely unprepared, I was in unimaginable pain, and eight hours later, I was pushing. At some point the labor nurse asked me to hold off any urge to push (which I could because I ended up taking the epidural) because she correctly predicted the baby would come fast and wanted to make sure a doctor would be there for the delivery. It was an epic day at the hospital because of all the c-sections and induced labors scheduled for the auspicious date. My labor was fortunately over very quick and with no complications.

When they told me it was time to push, my emotions were mixed. I started to cry. I told the nurse I don’t even know *how* to push. I was scared that something would go wrong for the baby, and I wasn’t ready for it to be over, or rather, for the baby to be here any second. Fifteen minutes later, at 9:18am, our world would be so different.

All I could worry about was whether he was healthy…alive. When his head came out, the doctor accidentally said “stop breathing” instead of “stop pushing”. I had heard “he stopped breathing”, but Ben reassured me that the baby had let out his first whimper. The APGAR tests were high (8 and 9 out of 10), so all was well.

During the pregnancy, I mostly wondered about what he’d look like. Would my Asian genes win or would he miraculously have Ben’s eyes, or more likely, nose? The birth video from class, which I had mostly watched eyes closed, prepared me for something, well, messy. Surprisingly, he came out quite clean, just blue, but his face was nothing like I imagined. He had (still does) a cone head, his nose was smashed so flat it had a dimple, and his lips were misshapen and unproportionally huge (yeah, yeah). It was fascinating to watch how quickly his face would change over the next few hours, days.

We would change just as fast too. After he lay on my chest for some time, one of the nurses came over to show me how to breastfeed, and so began our adventure into learning to care for our child.

The name Milo

We knew we wouldn’t name him until we met him, though admittedly, the short list coming into the hospital wasn’t very short. Any name sounded weird having used “him”, “baby”, or “Martian” for so long. After playing name survivor and slowly crossing off the top contenders, we decided to try out Milo for an hour. We first heard it on the train during our trip to SF in September, where a very cute boy with wavy long hair named Milo sat across from us. It reminded Ben of a book, The Phantom Toll Booth, a childhood favorite, whose main character is named…Milo! The middle Vietnamese name took longer to choose, but finally, we liked the sound of Milo Minh.

Day 13 - Ben reads to Milo about Milo.

Parenthood

Sometimes it’s hard to believe this is natural, that anyone can become a parent without a trial run or test. The 2-day stay at the hospital was our crash course into parenting. How to change diapers for boys, give sponge baths, latching techniques, jaundice symptoms. And swaddling! Everyone has their opinion on the right way to swaddle. If just one of those worked for us at the start, we would have saved hours of stress — and sleep.

Still, we managed to get our little Houdini to eat and sleep for the most part and were ready to go home after two days. Milo did have a medium-high level of jaundice so we were instructed to feed every two hours to make sure he gained weight and flushed it out of the system.

Day 7 - No matter how frustrating Mr. Houdini can be with his sneaky hands, cuteness always wins.

Our first night as a family, sans nurse staff, was brutal. I slept zero hours; Ben managed to squeeze in a few during the feedings. But that wasn’t the awful part. I felt like a terrible mother who didn’t know how to console her child. We tried feeding, changing diapers, rocking. Our swaddles took too long, only to fail structurally. After singing a repetitive array of soft music — I’m talking Erasure to Somewhere Over the Rainbow — I managed to get him to fall asleep in my arms. But when I put him down, it started up again. I was at a loss and I cried.

The responsibility of caring for something so small, fragile, dependent alone made us lose sleep. Was Milo getting enough to eat to gain weight? Did the jaundice spread (or was that just his Asian skin color)? Was he cold, even though we cranked up the heat, added a space heater to our room, and have him double swaddled? All the warnings about SIDS had us constantly checking if he was breathing, or whether the loose swaddle would eventually cover his air flow. I didn’t care about the sleep deprivation; I just wanted to know what he needed and that it was enough.

Many reassured us that it’d get better. We heard that the third night is the hardest. That babies tend to cluster feed in the night. That he’s only a few days old so there is no schedule. We adjusted our expectations and quickly learned to tag-team. Hey, one of us should be getting sleep.

The first week did give hope. Eat, sleep, change was the routine. I went from zero hours of sleep up to multiple two hour blocks. I started producing milk, which meant he was gaining an ounce a day and the multiple follow-ups tests for his jaundice level looked good.

We’ve continued to learn and experiment as parents. We are refining our bath methods (the first time we forgot the towel, the second we realized it was my mom who gave the bath the first time). We take no shame in our cheater swaddle, nor using the pacifier during nighttime changes. And he even chugged the bottle on the first try (future beer pong player?).

His activity level isn’t exciting – yet worth video-ing every moment — but it has been calm.

The calm before…yes, that’s right, the past few days have been the storm. Someone warned Ben that just as soon as you think you have it figured it out, they change it up on you again. After passing his birth weight, he is now going through a growth spurt which means I’m tied to the couch feeding. We haven’t managed to change his nocturnal schedule and I suffered again almost no sleep last night. But tonight, we’re eager to try some tips from the pediatrician, who said from midnight-6am, you can break all the rules. A good friend said that you start to do whatever that works, not thinking far into the future or the consequences. Hand over that yoga ball.

My Baby

For me, motherly bond was not instant. We had asked for him to be put on my chest as soon as he came out, but when they did, I didn’t know what to do. They told me to simply hold him, so I did. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, but it wasn’t until later that I felt this was MY baby.

They say you forget the pain of labor after meeting your baby. I do not. It was very real and unbearable for me. Shocking. The classes focused on the breathing, getting support, all the possible complications, but they never mention the word “pain”. Next time (and no, I’m not thinking that far into the future) I’m hoping to be a little more prepared.

But the moment I pick him up, I do forget any feeling of exhaustion or frustration. I fall in love with his face and small yet precious repertoire of expressions: the stare, the pursed lips, the manic open mouth searching for food, I even videoed his cry. I’m a zombie in the night, yet time goes by watching his closed eyes, stroking that down coat of peach fuzz on his body, smelling his baby skin that is so soft you’re not sure you’re touching it. In the morning before we make our debut downstairs, I cherish my time with him, when his eyes are open and curious about the light. It’s often our skin-to-skin time, and when I hold him up to burp, his curls up on my chest like a turkey on a platter.

Fun milestones

Many have told us to enjoy these precious first weeks because they really do grow up fast. I believe it. Here are some milestones and moments that I already love looking back on:

Day 3 - Milo goes home from the hospital in Ben's baby outfit. Not sure if he's crying because it's so 1970's.

Day 6 - Ba arrived and she's certainly fattening up mama and Milo.

Day 8 - Milo is no longer in his birthday suit! We had been swaddling him all day and naked, because, well, that was what they did at the hospital. Whoops! Here is one of his five outfits.

Day 9 - Milo's first social outing: the Portland Farmer's Market. We took our chance and made a surprise showing at a work party later that evening too.

Day 13 (no photo) – Milo slept two 3-hour chunks in the night. That was something for me to be thankful for on Thanksgiving. Sadly, it hasn’t become a trend.

Day 17 - At the 2-week check-up today, Milo weighed 7 lbs. 1 oz. Granted he's only in the 8th percentile (or 10, adjusted for being early), he's putting on the weight! I'm not surprised because this is the only face I've seen the past few days.

More Photos

Congrats, you made it to the end! If you’re still interested in following the most photographed baby ever, check out his Baby Martian set FlickR. It’s obvious which ones are mine verses Tata Chippy’s.

But it’s not too late to share great news! I’m past 36 weeks, over 8 months, and as my doctor says each visit now, “Woot! Woot!” We are officially in the clear, that is, having the baby now is no longer considered early. I can go about and do things, now that I know my body better and when to rest or drink more water. This’ll be great for my back and all those huge knots I’ve developed in the past month from being horizontal.

This also means we can deliver at our hospital of choice, which is less than five blocks away. So convenient that we had even timed it walking en route to the baby class: it’s just about the rest time in between labor contractions. Hmm…

I’m happy to be more “active”, but I am missing the earlier comfortable days. If I stand too long, I either contract or have a sharp pain in the right side of my back, so I lay down pretty often. My belly seems to be growing up: in the belly pic, you can see the ledge which is his butt. If it is as big as my belly profile indicates, he could have only gotten that from me. There isn’t a lot of pressure down low as I expected towards this final month, but I feel very stretched out and my abs often quite tender. I also caught the cold that has been going around and am still recovering after a week of soup, tissues, and more lying down.

Maybe the discomfort is from the extra weight, which I’ve done a good job at gaining in the past month. I was worried I was putting it on fast and the Martian would be huge, but doctor says it’s good since my total gain is only 14 lbs. It’s all this cooking! If you don’t follow Chippy’s phone updates, my escape has been cooking up a storm: beef stroganoff, kale & chanterelle quiche, cha ca (fried fish with turmeric and dill), eggplant parmigianno, thit bo xao khoai tay (sauteed beef with french fries), and last night, a roast chicken.

We’re slowly setting up the baby room. Admittedly mostly my doing, it kind of turned into a bigger project of fixing up all the rooms we hadn’t touched since we moved in. Now Ben has a beautiful new office joined with the library downstairs, I finally own a dresser (an antique Japanese piece I found on Craigslist), lots of stuff is labeled in shoeboxes, and lots more stuff is headed to Goodwill. Our ongoing quest for a dresser for the baby room is pretty ridiculous yet typical of us: we start off saying we’ll go cheap, then we’re indecisive, and after lots of circular discussions, we switch gears towards a custom piece that’ll take a few months to build and we’re wishing we started earlier. Maybe we should focus on getting diaper wipes and a changing pad. But thanks to Ben and Chippy, the room is painted and has a crib.

Despite the different me, I am enjoying this time off, to relax, hang out, with no real schedule. Chippy organized a fun baby shower (with games, of course), Halloween with our friends and their kids was certainly a treat, we took a trip to the coast for a friend’s birthday, I love spontaneous (we don’t plan very far nowadays) game nights and ladies’ nights, and I can’t wait for the next Sunday NYT crossword. Hoping the Martian hangs out a little longer.

35 weeks, with company! (I'm borrowing Nat's photo which shows the profiles better)

At Manzanita, OR. Ben did not stick out his belly enough.

36 weeks. See the ledge?

There are still some bigger items left on the list that will require some thought put into it. We’re putting it off (obvi) but meanwhile, I enjoy comparing how we grew up:

Stroller – My best cousin Wang and I are 4 months apart (I’m older so you can tell which is me, if the lips didn’t give it away already) and shared everything. I’m pretty sure this isn’t legal anymore.

Changing table – You may not recognize Baby Ben, or Ben with cheeks, but you may notice that his changing table, pictured below, is now the sideboard in our living room.

Day care or Nanny – This is certainly a tough one. Here my older sister Cookie demonstrates how she was ready to take care of me already at the age of 2. Tati Chippy is being considered as an option, that is, if all goes well after she changes her first diaper.

A La Mode – We’re probably good on clothes for now (seems like all the newborns wear are onesies) but including this one because somehow the French make clothes so much cuter. Plus Chippy was a fat baby.

When I first came home from the hospital, I was clearly still in recovery. I spent the whole evening trying to stop the contractions and minimize the back pain that started the whole ordeal. I must have pulled something from last Thursday and then lying in a hospital bed drugged up didn’t help. Bed rest was not feeling very restful.

On day 4, it’s gotten better each day. I (which means Ben too) have had several good night’s rest and it’s great to have more energy and focus. I’m able to sit comfortably for long periods of time, though I still rotate like rotisserie chicken and think a photo time lapse of my positions would make for an entertaining cartoon. Walking around the house once in awhile is a nice change, but otherwise, I’m ordered to stay off gravity as much as possible. Sigh. The detailed blog post explains more, but essentially, I’m slightly open (dilated), the membrane is thinner than it should be at this stage, and baby’s head is down low, in ready position. There’s no concrete data that bed rest helps but it makes sense to put as little pressure as possible. Plus, I’ve had fewer contractions since being horizontal, so I believe it.

I did lose weight, 4 lbs, a noticeable amount given my overall pregnancy gain had just peaked at 12-13 lbs. Some folks say I look skinny; I argue I’m losing muscle. It’s definitely not from dehydration because Ben has me drinking 120 oz. a day. Now that my appetite is back, he is determined to make me plump.

We had a follow-up doctor’s visit yesterday where she did a test to find out the odds of going into early labor again. When you go into labor, usually around week 38, there’s a protein in your amniotic fluid. But you can have it earlier, and this test checks for it and whether you’ll go into preterm labor, that is, before week 34. Given last weekend, we wouldn’t have been surprised if it was positive, but our bets (hopes?) were negative – and we were right!

Even though the odds of me going into labor again in the next two weeks are much lower now – thank goodness! – the doctor still has me on bed rest for another week and we’ll go from there. Maybe she’ll let us go out to eat, she says. She wants me to make it week 35, when babies don’t have to go to the NICU and can go home with you. Obviously we want that for the martian too.

We’re still trying to figure out how it all happened. Ben can’t help but wonder if I had a muscle spasm first, my stress attributed to it, or maybe I was extremely dehydrated (that’s what the nurse said when she tried to find a vein). Everyone has said fluids is the best thing to calm the belly down. Of course we’ll never know.

Again, I can’t say it enough: you all have been so amazing. I apologize for the delay in my responses to your emails, comments, texts, FB posts, but I truly have been enjoying and looking forward to each and every one. You have a fair point that bed rest does not suit me But given a choice, your perspective instantly changes. Still, I can’t say no to your offers to help, visit, because I do love the company, you! Distractions make me forget about the stress and a relaxed me means no contractions. So come on over any time, stop by if you’re in the NW, or send/post an update on your life, since I’m living vicariously through you all now! Feel free to call, text, email beforehand if you want, but odds are (I hope) I’m on couch-city. (Ok, I stood up for the belly photos.)

I had written the 7-month blog post right before my routine doctor’s visit. Uncanny timing.

At the check-up, I told my doctor about how I was feeling more contractions and some soreness once in awhile. I mentioned a slight coloring in my urine the other day but it was only once and not burning. My last question was whether Ben would be able to go to a climbing trip up in Washington next weekend, about 5 hours away. Given my concerns, she decided to measure my cervix. It turns out it was short, meaning thinner than it should be at this point. It was still closed and not an alarming thinness, but she said to back off on activity for a week and see how that goes. And no climbing trip for Ben.

I went home with a very different feeling from that morning, and well, I started to stress. I referred to the pregnancy books, which suddenly were no longer simply my references for the martian’s equivalent fruit size. I googled “short cervix” to learn about symptoms and causes, and didn’t find any real data, except that it essentially increases the odds of early labor by a factor of 13. I read up on complications and too many scenarios.

I blamed myself. Did I over do it? Could I have prevented or detected it? Every contraction or tightening made me worry. Later Ben told me he was already planning to call our doctor the next morning to have her explain to me that it wasn’t my fault, so I would in fact relax for the next week.

Tennis plans canceled (obviously), I decided to tag along with Ben to the climbing gym to hang out. I hadn’t seen our TGS crew in awhile and wanted to catch up before they went on the annual Oktoberfest trip. Before we left, one rubbed my belly and said “don’t have your baby yet!”

The rest of the evening I continued to feel the usual contractions and discomfort, but now with a little more worry. That night, for the first time, I felt lower abdominal pain, almost like cramps. They eventually went away, but I tossed and turned so much Ben moved to the TV room. At 4am, I woke up again, this time to sharp back pains on my lower left side. They were crippling, the most pain I can ever remember having. We tried to massage my back, using labor positions we had just learned in class, relax me, and control my breathing. Ben gave me a Tylenol; I immediately threw up. The pain felt consistent but after noticing it would peak, we thought to time them. Still, there didn’t seem to be any pattern or downtime (and apparently there should be a painless period). I didn’t even notice the contractions; all I could think about was the sharp pain. At 6am, somehow it eased and we both managed to fall asleep for an hour. But as soon as it started up again, we called our doctor who told us to go straight to the hospital.

This was a different hospital than we’re planning to deliver at, but it has a better neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). They strapped me up right away and started monitoring my contractions and the baby’s activity. The contractions are measured by pressure and because I’m small (that seemed to be the repeated comment all weekend, how small or skinny I was), it would catch any muscle movement. Even though the data was somewhat noisy, it was clear that the contractions were peaking off the chart, 6 min. apart. They also confirmed that my cervix had opened up 1-2cm from being closed only yesterday.

To try to stop the contractions and going into preterm labor, they give you magnesium sulfate. Yes, apparently Epsom salt is a very effective muscle relaxant. They dosed me with 2 grams/hour. The “mag” doesn’t take effect immediately. On top of the back pain and contractions, I was throwing up aggressively. It was a brutal 20 minutes before the drugs finally kicked in.

The baby’s activity and heart rate was fortunately healthy. The ultrasound verified my theory, based on where I could feel the hiccups, that his head was right at my cervix, in other words, at the door, ready to go. He was even facing the right way (backwards). They measured the different parts of his body and amniotic fluid, and estimated he weighed 3 lbs. 10 oz, an average size.

At this point, there was still the possibility I’d go into labor despite the mag. To prepare for it, they also injected steroids to enhance the baby’s lung development. At this stage, the baby’s lungs aren’t ready to breath, but if you can hold off labor for two days, which is how long they planned to keep me on mag, that’s all it takes for the steroids to take effect and speed up the development. It’s amazing really. In the ultrasound, we could see the lungs practicing breathing, and in two days, they would visibly be able to tell the change. They reassured us that the steroids have no after affects on the baby should you still go full term. I was also put on no-food and fluids for the next 12 hours and antibiotics since babies delivered early are prone to infection.

It wasn’t a pretty sight with all the IVs, needles, tests, and well, emotion. Aside from the fact that I wasn’t ready to give birth (mentally or physically), I wanted my martian to have his full chance to develop inside the womb. Lots of good stuff happens in the last trimester and I did not want to deprive him of that. And I wanted that connection with him at birth, the skin-to-skin contact. I was a bit hysterical. I tried to look deep into Ben’s eyes for any sign of worry, but he continued to appear strong and tell me everything was going to be fine.

The mag also makes you feverish, hot, groggy, and nauseous, so the next two days is kind of a blur to me. After a few hours, the contractions had become less strong and spaced further apart. By the afternoon, they let me drink more water which was a good sign. I was still on restricted fluids because the salt from the mag makes you retain liquid which can then clog up your lung area, especially if you’re lying down. There were frequent breathing tests as well as reflex tests to make sure the mag dose wasn’t too strong and causing my muscles to spaz. They also measured my urine (blah). By the evening I was allowed to eat. I wasn’t hungry but that meant they did not think I was going back into labor. What a relief.

The nurses are amazing. All of them are labor nurses but they rotate in the pre and post partum wards. Several said they prefer it here because they get to see their patients over several days. There were three shifts over the 24 hours, each with her own style. Though I felt very weak and incapable, I knew I was always in good hands. I needed help any time I had to sit up or even just to walk a few steps to the bathroom. Whenever I asked how things were looking on the monitors, they knew how to answer reassuringly yet not too promisingly. I did want to know the facts after all. I was also in a lot of discomfort. The room was kept so cold even Ben pulled his hood up whereas I was in a thin gown and constantly needed a wet cloth to cool my face. I rotated constantly to find comfortable positions for my back and stomach. I didn’t have an appetite and felt very parched, and took advantage that fruit, like watermelon, didn’t count as part of the fluid intake.

Even with sleeping pills, I didn’t sleep well through the nights, another affect of the mag. As my body took on more of the dose, I became weaker and unstable. I remember the nurse checking on my stats throughout the night. They also drew blood twice to check the mag level. I was able to doze in and out, which seemed to be the calmest time for my belly. Even the martian, who usually is quite the kicker, felt the effects of the mag and you could tell when he was mellow or resting with me.

By Sunday noon, things were looking good and they took me off the mag. The change was almost instant. Within 5 minutes, I could open my eyes, talk normal, even sit up by myself. It felt like a gift to have as much liquid as I wanted and actually be coherent. As Ben said, it was nice to have Annie back (well, sorta). They monitored me and the baby for another 24 hours to see if the contractions would act up again. I was having about three an hour, which was not alarming, and they weren’t painful. By Monday noon, my doctor said I could go home. She said I have an irritable uterus and I don’t disagree. It’s just that before, I never thought anything of the contractions; now I wonder if they’re really trying to do something. She also assured me that it wasn’t because of my activity level. The causes of preterm labor are unknown and unpredictable; it’s increased since the 1900s and they’re trying to understand why.

It was a surreal feeling leaving the hospital. It felt like I was in a movie, where someone wakes up, so much has changed, and s/he appreciates any detail of life. As I waited in the wheelchair for Ben to pull up, I watched the hustle: nurses coming back from lunch, visitors with their balloons and teddy bears, the construction loud yet invisible to the people multitasking, the rain in daylight comforting. For me, it took only four days and not even a serious incident to feel like this happy observer. Makes me really wonder if sometimes we do too much.