Dad

He was the one who read us bedtime stories as kids....

When we got older and were able to read by ourselves, he wouldn't yell when he'd come upstairs after lights out and find that we had turned our lights on again to read some more. Instead, he'd say ten more minutes, knowing full well that we'd be sound asleep in five and he'd have to walk upstairs again to turn our light off for us.....

He's the one who would let go of the bike when we were learning to ride, knowing we could do it alone even if we didn't believe it ourselves.....

He's the one that taught us how to drive, never once showing how scared he must have been as we lurched and sputtered and stalled our way around the parking lot and the back roads of our town....

He's the one who gave us our medicine when we were kids, and then a huge mouthful of whipped cream to make it go down just a little easier.....

He's the one who sat patiently by while we brushed our teeth, making sure that we did it for long enough, letting us know that we couldn't rush through it because we'd just have to go back and do it all over again....

He's the one who made snowmen, had snowball fights and built snow forts with us....

He found a scuba diving course for us to take, and then booked a trip to Florida so we could get our certification.....

He's the one that wouldn't let us leave the dinner table until we ate all of our green vegetables saying "Look at all the vitamins swimming around in there!"....

He's the one that would take us swimming and throw us high in the air to land with a large SPLASH that would leave us spluttering and laughing and asking to do it just one more time....

He's the one who asked, "you sure you want to do this?" with a smile and a laugh, moments before walking me down the aisle....

He's the one that dressed all in long sleeves, in the middle of summer, with us so that we can crawl into the raspberry bushes and pick piles of sweet red berries.....

He's the one who wrote a letter to help me gain admission to the British Exchange program, even though I am sure he was nervous about sending me overseas to live for a month....

He's the one that STILL laughs about my Moose Meadow hat....and probably still has it stashed away somewhere.....

He's the one who lives a life that teaches me that you can BE anyone and you can DO anything.....just make sure you do it with honesty and integrity and a little bit of laughter and a whole lot of love.

He's my Dad, and he recently celebrated his 60th birthday, exactly as he wanted: with a huge party surrounded by all the people he loves, and who love him.

Happy Birthday Dad.

I love you,

Your skinny banana

C.A.T.

No, I'm not talking about our pet cat. I'm talking about the C.A.T. The Connecticut Administrator Test.

See, I'm taking courses to get my 092 certification. That's a fancy way of saying that I'm paying a whole lot of money to get a degree so that I can one day be an administrator; a principal, a curriculum leader etc. In addition to the certification, I'm getting my 6th year degree, which is another thirty credits beyond a master's degree and gives me a sweet little bump up the pay scale.

Part of this degree is, of course, taking a test. Because heaven forbid they just give you the degree after sitting through hours of classes and writing countless papers and working on several projects, and, oh yeah, writing a thesis. I mean, you can't do all that work and not take a test too, right??? The test is divided into two modules, with two sections in each module- so, four tests all together. There is the School Improvement module and the Instructional Analysis and Teacher Support module. Each module is then divided into Elementary and Secondary (which is either middle or high school). Each module is also about an hour and a half, so the entire test taking time for all four modules is 6 hours. Yup. They don't recommend that you take all four modules at once, and I have to tell you, I agree. The test is scored on a 0-3 rubric, with a 2 being the lowest score you can get. Actually, I take that back, on all four sections, you are allowed one score of 1. So, for example you could get a 1 and a 2 on one module, and then a 2 and 2 on another and still pass the whole thing. If you get more than one 1 then you fail and have to retake it. Did I mention that the test is pricey too? It cost $250 to do one module. So, the entire thing costs $500.


I took two modules Saturday and sitting through three straight hours of testing was hard. Did I mention that they are essay questions and you have to hand write everything? In this day and age it seems almost barbaric to make you hand write an essay.


Anyways, you can't really study for these tests. You take classes to help, and you do a few practice runs in those classes, but it's not the kind of test you study for. I went in feeling reasonably confident. Who am I kidding, I went in with a stomach ache feeling ridiculously nervous. But I had reviewed the study guides I had, and the suggestions I received on my practice runs and I told myself, repeatedly, that on all of my practices I got scores of 2 and 3 so I could DO this. Like a mantra, over and over, "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this....."


And, man, it was HARD. Harder than I thought. Without going into too many details (I signed a confidentiality agreement and you would be bored anyways) I'll tell you that our practices were not really like the real thing. Sure, the questions were all the same, but the scenarios were way different. I was confronted with situations that I couldn't support with hard data, and every course I took kept telling me to refer to the Strategic School Profile--the SSP, which is the document that has all the hard data in it. Every professor I had said that you should use the supporting documents to get an idea of a problem to address but you use the SSP to support anything you do. Yeah, well, what are you supposed to do if the SSP has absolutely NOTHING in it? I mean, nothing. I floundered and I knew it. I tried to remember all of the great ideas I had learned and written about, but so much of it flew right out of my head that I know I didn't include everything I should have. And the time constraint! I kept my watch out, well aware of the time, but somehow managed to only wind up with about twelve minutes for the last question. Overall, I walked out convinced that I didn't do well, and I'd be going through it again the next time it is offered. Scores come out in six weeks, so I have a long wait to find out how I really did....

Fingers crossed......

My little huney

Our Halloween ended up being relatively low key....we drove over to Nonna's house, and then on to Auntie Tina's so that we could take pictures of all of the grandkids together. I managed to forget my camera, so I won't be able to post those pictures until my Dad or sister email them to me. Then we came home and attempted to order pizza, only to discover that everyone in creation had the same idea and it would take two hours to get it. We got Aliza dressed in her costume and headed over to a neighbor's house to walk around with them. This is becoming our annual tradition with these neighbors, and, as Russ pointed out, at this time last year we knew we were pregnant, but no one else did....it was nice to be with them, one year later, holding our baby girl in our arms.

We didn't last too long--or rather, Aliza didn't last too long, but it was nice to discover just how wonderful our neighborhood really is. The owners of the few houses we did stop at were so incredibly kind that it made Russ and I both love our little area even more. As an aside- many of them mentioned the pink flower pots I had out for awhile, which makes me wonder just how carefully they are noticing our house and yard....which makes me think that we REALLY have to do something about those leaves that are piling up outside. Anyways, we headed home and spent the rest of the night handing out candy to the many kids from our neighborhood......

Here she is, on her first Halloween, my little Huney bear:

Happy Halloween!

We finally carved our pumpkin Wednesday night! Actually, I scooped out the "guts" and Russ carved.

Russ gets to dress up at his school for Halloween (so funny to me that middle school students and teachers dress up, but elementary school students- at least at my school- don't get to). Anyway, here is his costume- it kind of freaked me out to be honest (yes, he did actually shave off half of his beard):

More pictures (of Aliza in her first Halloween costume) are coming soon!

Thirteen things I've learned since becoming a mom

1) If the baby falls asleep during the day in the car seat, or the bouncy chair, or anywhere other than her crib.... it is NOT necessary to move her to her crib. If you do try to move her, all that happens is she wakes up and then does not nap. Leave her alone. I made that mistake twice before finally figuring out that I'd rather she nap, then nap in her crib.

2) Structures and routines, even from a very young age, are a very good thing.

3) Structures and routines, even from a very young age, could be a BAD thing if it causes your baby to cry when the routine is changed. However, at least we are teaching her to be flexible, right?

4) A baby generates an amazing amount of laundry. I think doing her laundry could almost be considered a full-time job. Also, it is amazing how much one can enjoy doing laundry when the items being washed are cute pink outfits with butterflies and flowers all over them. It's just one more way that I get to take care of her, and I really do love it.

5) Seeing your daughter smile, no matter how often it happens, melts your heart every single time.

6) Same for hearing her laugh.

7) Time is funny.....some days I'll look at the clock and think it should be 3:00 already and it is more like 9:30 a.m. and other days I'll look at the calendar and wonder how in the world my baby girl is about to be six months old when it was just yesterday I was wearing maternity clothes.

8) Just because a pair of pants fit you again, it doesn't mean you should wear them.

9) Babies can communicate quite well, without words. I know when Aliza is full, when she is overtired, when she is hungry....she doesn't need to speak for me to understand what she is saying.

10) Breastfeeding is not convenient. It is tiring. It is also the most wonderful feeling....not only to physically hold her close, to snuggle her in and to hear her little eating noises.....but to know that not only did I nurture her for the nine months that I carried her but also for the months after her birth.....it is truly humbling and awesome all at once.

11) You can wrap your entire world around your baby. And that's OK. But it's also OK to do something for yourself every now and again--without guilt. (I'm still working on this one.)

12) Little things that used to be ordinary everyday stuff that you took for granted are now luxuries rarely enjoyed. Like taking a long, hot shower. Usually mine is rushed and I'm listening to Aliza cry, or waiting for her to cry, or worrying because she is so quiet....

13) Graduating from college, going to grad school, buying my first car, getting my first teaching position, meeting my husband, getting married, moving into our house....NONE of these come close to the miracle that is giving birth and having a baby.

New and exciting!

I have so much to post about from the weekend that just passed that my head is spinning.... since I can't quite figure out where to begin, I'm going to post about something else entirely- my new car! We finally decided to just take the plunge and buy the car I loved first.
Russ went in with his game face on and I went in with explicit instructions to not say a word, and to not look excited and to not show any emotion at all. Clearly, I was the weak link here because I REALLY wanted this car. So, Russ negotiated, and did a darn good job of it too. He got more for my little red Jetta than I would have thought possible. I didn't realize we'd actually be driving off the lot with the car that very same day. I was actually convinced we'd have to wait awhile, but they had the exact car I wanted.....so I spent a few minutes frantically emptying what little was left in my car and drove off in this- my official, grown-up, mommy mobile:

A few new firsts

Aliza experienced some new firsts this week. Tuesday night we fed her oatmeal for the first time (she LOVED it~ even more than the rice cereal!) and we also gave her a bath in the regular bathtub. Here are some pictures:

And, the bassinet that we still haven't managed to put away (this weekend for sure!) has now become the bed for our other snuggly family member (he just got his hair cut, that's why he looks funny!):

Blast from the past

This past weekend several (but, unfortunately, not all) of my high school friends got together. A once annual tradition, we used to gather at various locations around the Northeast.....actually, going back even further than that....every summer before school resumed, we would have lunch at a restaurant on the beach, catching up (even though we had usually spent quite a bit of time together over the summer) and getting ready for the school year to come. We all went our separate ways after college but started a tradition of gathering together every Veteran's Day weekend. There are too many memories from those trips to possibly write about but the ones that stand out are the marathon Pokemon Puzzle League tournaments (don't laugh, it's a fantastic game) and, of course, who can forget the trip that involved no running water, so that by the end of the weekend (when we took the most pictures) we were all rather greasy.

Pulling up to the house of my good friend, the memories came flooding back. The last time I had been at that house was probably high school, or maybe summer break during my college years. But I could so clearly remember playing flashlight tag in the backyard (you can laugh at that one, we really were that dorky in high school), baking cookies in the kitchen, gathering in the family room one memorable New Year's eve.....What amazed me most was how quickly, how easily, we all fell into our conversations. There wasn't even much catching up, not because I'm the best person at keeping in touch (because, I'll admit, I'm not) but because that's how easy and comfortable we all are together. We've known each other for years now, and although there is distance between us, some things never change......including the bonds of friendship that were formed years ago, and strengthened over time.

We took more pictures of the babies then of ourselves, so here are a few. Note that Aliza is the only girl, and she is just chilling out while two of the boys cry next to her.

And here she is with her Auntie Nessa, who she clearly adores, as evidenced by the many grins Aliza gave her:

A few of us (including me) had left by the time this picture was taken, running off to a birthday party for my one year old cousin, but here are some of my dear friends:

And one last one, where the boys aren't crying quite so hard:

Eating

Apparently I wasn't feeding Aliza quickly enough the other day....she decided to take matters into her own hands!

Trapped in a car dealership

Russ and I continued on our car shopping journey last week. This time we checked out this car, and then this one. We would have checked out some others, but we were practically held hostage at the first dealership and ended up spending more time there then we planned, or wanted to.

I think there were several problems....the first being that the dealer seemed to think that because we are a younger couple we might be naive enough to sign away our hard earned money quickly. The second problem was the dealer was clearly eager to make a sale and didn't understand that we weren't going to buy a car that day. I swear folks, we did everything but tattoo it across his forehead and he just wasn't getting it. And the final problem was, well, the salesman. He pulled out every trick he knew to literally keep us waiting, and talking, and waiting some more....and rather than make a sale, all he did was annoy the crap out of both of us and make us absolutely not want to buy from him.

Aside from his annoying behavior, I also didn't love the Mazda CX7. It was a bit more expensive and, I felt, should come with more features than it did. If I'm going to pay, then, darn it, I want something for it! OK, OK, there were some neat little details, like a back mat in the cargo area that flipped over to reveal a surface that can be more easily cleaned than the carpet, but, there weren't enough details to make it worth my while. The poor man definitely didn't get the hint though because he called the very next day with a Brand New! Grand Touring! Top of the Line! Fully loaded! 2007! That I can have Dirt Cheap!
Thanks, but no.

The Nissan Rogue I liked a lot. Well within our price range and it drove well and handled beautifully. Unfortunately, it is a bit small. For an SUV. It felt a little bit cramped to Russ, and while I was fine in it, I could imagine feeling overloaded with STUFF once the car seat, and the stroller and the diaper bag and god knows what else is in the car. That salesman was new to the job, and it showed. He let us know within the first five minutes that he didn't even know if he liked his job and was considering a career switch- to being a teacher-which I swear he said before he knew we were both teachers! Maybe that's why I liked him so much. That and he reminded me of any of my male cousins on my mom's side. All that aside, the Nissan is probably my second choice, but I am still coming back to this one as my all time favorite.

Recent photos

Wearing shoes for the first time....they didn't last long, like her socks, she kicked them off!

Hugging Daddy!

Sitting and playing like a big girl!

Picture this

The room is bathed in darkness, the only light coming from a nightlight that casts a soft glow over the hardwood floors, gently illuminating the furniture in the room and causing shadows to dance gently on the walls and ceiling....

The room smells of baby--a combination of clean diapers, Dreft and the sweetness that only a baby can smell like...

Soft music plays in the background, classical and soothing, a gentle lullaby that calms...

The only other sounds in the room are the contented sighs and gentle noises of a nursing baby...

A soft chair envelopes me, a homemade blanket serves as a cushion for my head....Aliza is boneless in my arms, trusting. Her eyes are closed, her breath warm and gentle against my skin, her body a cozy warmth in my arms....I breathe in her unique baby smell; her nighttime bath soap and sweet milky breath....

This is how I end my day.

Cars, cars, cars

Before Aliza was born, Russ and I had decided that we would get a new car for me before the winter weather hit. While I do love my cherry red Jetta, it is an older car and does have quite a lot of miles on it. Russ is convinced I will break down somewhere and be stranded with our daughter in the car. Granted, my car has never broken down before, but I love him for being so worried about the safety of his baby girl. (And his wife of course, but, let's be honest, he's mostly worried about his daughter- as he should be!)

We took advantage of a day off of work for Russ yesterday and began our search. After having an extensive conversation we decided to go with an SUV. I know, I know, gas prices, carbon footprint and all that jazz, but the reality of our lives right now involve things like strollers and diaper bags and pack and plays and car seats......all of those things require space. Not to mention getting in and out of a sedan with a baby and/or a car seat is difficult. And I refuse to have a mini-van. Not at this point in my life. I'm sure it will make sense in the future but I'm only 32 for crying out loud.

So, we headed to a nearby town and checked out this car first. I admit, I went in thinking I wouldn't like it. But as soon as I started driving it I absolutely loved it. Granted, anything compared to my Jetta is going to be amazing, but the ride was smooth, the car didn't feel big and it looked snazzy. I think it definitely helped that the salesperson was clearly a pro and reminded me strongly of a very dear friend. I wanted to buy the car from him just because he seemed like such a nice guy.

Next, we test drove this car. This is the one, going in, that I was convinced I would love. My sister in law and brother in law have an Outback that they love, and this car was in Consumer Reports as top of the list for it's safety features, a major concern for us. And, well, I liked it....but I didn't love it. It drove differently--almost stiff. The plus side was that it felt very solid to me but the downside was it wasn't smooth, you could feel the bumps a lot more with this car, which I, personally, don't like. Of course, Russ loved this one, especially when he discovered that you could buy some sort of device that allowed you to plug your Ipod in and control it right from your radio.

Next we wound up looking at this car. Once we saw the sticker price and the highway miles we opted not to test drive it. We weren't in love with it anyways, and those two details turned us right off.

That was the end of our first journey into the car shopping world. We grabbed some lunch and spent some time trying to convince the other of the validity of our choices--Russ arguing in favor of the Forester while I argued in favor of the Sante Fe. The Sante Fe was a deal breaker for him when he discovered that there was no Ipod jack. We finally agreed that we have more work to do and made a list of other cars to go look at. While I was thinking we had a few months, Russ has decided that I should have my new car by some time in October. And that is one point I am happy to concede on!

Solid foods

Today was a very exciting day in our household! Not only did Aliza's daddy put together her exer-saucer (I'll post that picture later) but Aliza also tried solid foods for the first time. Honestly, the term solid food is a bit misleading, since her food (in the form of rice cereal) was more liquid than solid, but still, she sat up to eat! And used a spoon! And had something other than just breast milk!
Here's a short video of the event--Russ got another one using our real video camera, but I have no idea how long it will take to get that to a format suitable for my blog. So, for now at least, you'll have to be happy with my shaky arm while I try to video and feed at the same time!

Bottle woes

When Aliza was first born--OK, not first born but a few weeks old--we gave her a bottle and celebrated the fact that she took it without a problem. Just one more example of how she is an easygoing little girl. Now that she is older she doesn't like to take the bottle anymore. During the day, on the few occasions I've left her, she'll fuss and cry but eventually, with much coaxing and probably out of pure hunger, she'll eat from the bottle. But nighttime, when I'm away at class and Russ is alone with her, is an entirely different story.

Last night, according to him, she cried for the better part of an hour. That might sound normal to some of you moms out there, but for my little love bug it is NOT normal. In the end, she fell asleep without eating anything. Now, I know she's not starving.....not by any stretch. I also know that part of the problem is that she just won't nap. Not for lack of effort on my part. I've been getting in the habit of putting her in her sleep sack, playing her quiet music and laying her down in the crib in the mid afternoon. Nothing doing. Yesterday she wailed so loud that you would have thought I was beating her over the head with a stick. And, yes, I did try to wait it out. I lasted quite awhile actually. So, by the time she got to bedtime last night, she had literally been awake since 7:30 in the morning with a ten minute cat nap all day long. Of course she was exhausted, and that might have had something to do with her not wanting the bottle.

This worries me though. My mother in law and I spent some time looking at the various nipples I have. We discovered that they are long. Really long. I don't have other bottles around to compare, but the ones I use definitely look rather long at the top. I don't know if that has anything to do with the current situation.....or maybe it's because we don't use bottles enough. She's used to her mommy and she's used to having her mommy right when she needs her. Maybe she just doesn't like the plastic in her mouth, she never did take to a pacifier either. My thought is that I have to get her used to a bottle because, eventually the day will come when I will return to work and she will have to take a bottle.

Here's the thing, there's no user manual on a baby. It's one of those situations where I really am not sure what to do. The only thing I am sure of is that it is probably not the first time I will be saying that! My thought was to have her practice taking a bottle during the day. When she is not quite so tired or hungry. I told Russ that we HAVE to do that this weekend. My other thought was that maybe it's time for her to get a bottle a little more frequently throughout the week. Maybe I need to let go a little bit and have Russ feed her when he comes home.

I just hope we resolve this situation. As it is, Russ gets himself all geared up when he has to take care of her, I don't want her screaming every time she's alone with her daddy. Not only for her sake, or for his sake, but also for mine.

Four month stats

At four months Aliza has the following stats:
Height: 25 inches
Weight: 15 lbs 0.5 ounces
Head diameter: 40.2 inches

According to the pediatrician, she is ready to try solid food because of her size and developmental milestones. I'm sure that will be quite the adventure, with many fun pictures to share!
For now, here's a video of her chatting away, although, of course, as soon as I started recording she quieted down, but you can hear her sweet little voice a couple of times! (Notice how she is biting her bottom lip too, it is her new little thing and (I think) SO adorable!)

Making strides

In an effort to alleviate some of my own stir-craziness (if it isn't a word, then it should be) and to get me talking to some adults for a change, I decided to try and find some mommy and baby groups. Today was our first attempt at one of these--we attended a Stroller Strides class. We arrived earlier than we were supposed to and sat waiting in the totally empty parking lot. Two minutes before the class was to start, a few others showed up and it was a small group that began the morning workout.

The class is designed to be low impact, and customized to your own needs. There were short walks interrupted with brief workouts at various "stations". I discovered that my left arm is now considerably stronger than my right, a fact I attribute to carrying a 12+ lb baby around on my left arm all the time. (Mental note: switch arms to carry Aliza). I also discovered that the trunk of my car just sucks for getting a stroller in and out. It was a series of grunts and shoves and yes, even one muffled curse, as I tried to shove the unwieldy carriage into my trunk.

Aliza got fussy near the end, which was to be expected, she was, after all, rather hungry. But overall the class was fun and one I'm looking forward to doing again. It also had the added benefit of tiring Aliza out, she is actually napping as I type this, a rare treat indeed!

Well wishes

A college friend recently gave birth to triplets. They were born at 24 weeks and five days and have a 40% chance of making it through without impairment. They need all the thoughts, prayers and well wishes they can get....

You can meet them here:

http://yangtriplets.blogspot.com/

One of them just recently passed.....I can't imagine.....I can't fathom the loss of a child.
I have no words. Please keep the other two little babies, and their parents, in your prayers.

New tricks

Here's Aliza's latest trick!

Battle of wills

Aliza and I are in the midst of a battle of wills....I'm trying to get her to nap, and she is fighting it tooth and nail.
Here's the thing, I KNOW she's tired. I also know that when she naps she is a much happier baby. She, however, doesn't like to nap during the day. She prefers to hang out on her play mat, or to talk to her mommy, or to go for walks, or to sit in her swing, or to read books.....all very well and good but the little darling has been awake since 7:45 this morning and has only taken the briefest of naps (ten minutes, tops) all day.

So today I decided on a new tactic. I put her in her sleep sack, put her in her crib, and turned on the mobile. I fully expected that this would not work, and, sure enough, not even two minutes after putting her down, she was wailing her little head off. I strengthened my resolve, firmed up my backbone and let her cry for a bit. A few minutes later, blessed silence. I look at the monitor, dare I hope? Is she asleep? Nope. Not yet, but her eyes are heavy. Just as I was thinking that it wasn't so bad, and that I could handle a little bit of crying every day if it meant she napped, she starts screaming again.

Sigh. A few minutes later, she stopped, this time her eyes are shut. Phew. She's OUT! I mentally pat myself on the back, convinced I won this battle. Foolish, foolish hope.

Two minutes later she's wailing again. Sigh. OK, this time I tell myself I'm giving this five more minutes and then we are going for a walk. I know she'll fall asleep during our walk. I'm beginning to be convinced that my baby girl will win when, suddenly....silence again!

Now I'm skeptical. Is she really asleep or will she start crying in a few minutes? I wait....and wait....and wait...ten minutes later and all I see when I look at our monitor is a sleeping baby girl! YES! Victory is MINE!

At least for today.....at least for now.....

Getting it done

Wednesday I went to school. I'm taking some time off from work right now and going through a whole range of emotions around that....but I'm not ready to write that post. Not yet.

This post is going to be about some of the things I learned when I went to school. There was a meeting scheduled with a notoriously difficult parent (I want to keep my job so I'm not giving details on that one) and I decided it would be in my best interest, and the child's, if I attended. So I did. This meant that I had to get up (not difficult since I've been getting up at 5 am with Russ anyways), get myself dressed and ready, get Aliza dressed and ready and get out the door to drop her off at my mom's house so that I could get to school in time for the meeting. This is something I'd wondered about--can I get out the door when it's time for me to get to work? So I was a little glad to get the dry run. Here's what I learned:

1) I can do it. I can actually, physically, get up, get breakfast and lunch made for Russ, get dressed and ready to go, get Aliza ready to go and get out the door on time.

2) The only reason I can accomplish #1 was because I prepared the night before. My clothes were chosen (no easy task these days as I still can't fit into many of my clothes) and ironed. Aliza's bag was packed, as was mine. When I do go back to work I will have to spend the night before making sure I am prepared for the next day.

3) Aliza really is such an easygoing baby. (And, yes, I know I am incredibly lucky for that.) She didn't wake up in time for me to leave the house, which I suspected would happen, so I woke her up and put her right in her car seat (I was clever and put her in the kind of jammies that allowed this to happen). Even though that was how she started her day I STILL got the biggest smile from her.

4) Leaving her was very difficult. But I did it. And I kicked right into school mode as soon as I said goodbye. Even not teaching I kicked into school mode. (If you are a teacher then you get this, if you aren't then all I can say to explain it is that you have 20+ students to think about and lessons to prepare and copies to make and parents to email and teachers to talk to and basically a million and one things to do before the day is over and that is what you start thinking about....)

5) The day goes by VERY fast when you are at work. Way faster than when you are home alone with a baby.

6) This family, this student, is going to be my cross to bear this year. That's all I will say about it because, like I said, I want to keep my job.

7) I miss my friends at school.

8) Picking up Aliza, and being greeted with another large smile, was the highlight of my whole day.

Fever

Aliza has her first fever.

I knew something was off with her yesterday. We had travelled to the beach house to be with Grams and Gramps, Auntie Beth and Uncle Scott. Aliza was fussy and crying in a very un-Aliza way. In my head I was thinking that something wasn't right, but I chalked up her behavior to a long car ride (stupid I-95 traffic), a change of scenery and a baby that naps inconsistently.

Well, today she seemed off again. Not crying as much, but sleeping during the day way more than she normally does and then not eating as much as she normally does. Aliza does many things well, and one of them is eating. We brought her home and she slept in the car, then continued to sleep once we got home. Unusual, but she had a busy weekend. Then when she woke up I tried to feed her and she felt HOT. And she fell asleep instead of eating and continued to sleep in my arms for a solid hour and a half. Finally, convinced her heat wasn't from being in the car, or being outside, we took her temperature and discovered she did, in fact, have a fever of 100.3. I gave her some Children's Tylenol and snuggled her close. Then I started doing that thing that all moms do--especially new moms...second guessing. Maybe I should have taken a rectal temperature, maybe I shouldn't have given her the Tylenol, maybe I should do something to cool her down, maybe the fact that she's not eating and sleeping a lot is an indication of something more serious.....so I called my sister who reassured me that I had done everything right and told me to call the pediatrician, if only for my own peace of mind.

So, we called the pediatrician, as well as our respective Moms to gather some advice. Everyone said the same thing- keep an eye on her, keep the Tylenol in her system, don't worry. Call again if the fever gets really high but keep in mind it might spike during the night.....OK.....

She finally ate (much to my relief--on many levels) and we got her ready for bed. While on her changing table (I swear it is one of her favorite places) she was "normal" Aliza, smiling and talking, kicking her feet and waving her arms, just like she does every night. This was reassuring to both of us, we were assuming that if something were really wrong, her behavior would be an indication. And now she is resting in her crib. I suspect she will be sleeping very well tonight, and I will not be sleeping well at all.....

Schedules

There are a few things that I now know for certain. Things I knew before but, now, having a baby around, I really Know.

My newest life lesson is one of these--one that I knew but am now experiencing. Schedules. Or lack thereof.

Aliza introduced me to that lesson early on--arriving three weeks early and completely eliminating any prospect of resting before giving birth. Now she is teaching me all over again. At three months she is not on any sort of schedule. Actually, I shouldn't say that--she does sleep VERY well at night time, but even that is not consistent. One night she'll wake up at 3, the next at 5, the next at 6:30. It's all over the map really. Her days are much the same--one day she'll take a nap in the morning, another one in the afternoon.....the next she won't nap all day long.

At our last doctor's appointment I had asked about this, wondering if I should become one of those moms who tries to force a schedule on a baby. This seemed counter to every maternal instinct I have, but I'm new at this so I figured I'd ask a professional. To me, it make sense to follow Aliza's schedule--if she takes a nap in the morning, obviously I let her. If she doesn't, well, I don't force her into one. The doctor agreed with me; telling me that it's OK for her to not have a schedule quite yet and as long as she's eating and sleeping well then I shouldn't worry (not that I was).

So, Aliza is, as I suspected she would be, the boss. I let her lead, and, for now at least, I follow.

Three and thirty-two

Aliza is three months old today.....and I am 32 years old today. We spent yesterday afternoon exactly the way I wanted, eating yummy food, surrounded by family, outside in our yard. It was an absolutely perfect day....And here is Aliza at the end of the day, sharing her thoughts with us!

Wicked good

On Wednesday my sister, Mom and I made the trek to NYC to see Wicked. This was a tradition we started a few years back with my Dad initially--no, not seeing random musicals, but giving the gift of time. Time with us, that is. We started it with a Father's Day canoe trip down a river in MA, and then the year after did a kayaking trip on the Sound and have since gone on quite a few adventures together. Then we started it with my Mom with trips to the city to see the ballet, or massages--more girly things.


Anywho, the day ended up being far longer than I had originally thought. My longest away from Aliza, but her daddy handled it like a champ. Of course, it helped that she slept for over three hours. Why in the world does she sleep for over three hours for him, and nothing close to that for me is beyond me, but they had a wonderful day together, and for that I am glad.


We got an early train and headed into the city for a light lunch, before catching the 2:00 show. If you've read the book then you know that the premise is the life and times of the Wicked Witch of the West--before she became the Wicked Witch of the West and chased after poor, innocent Dorothy and Toto. I was struck by a few things while in the theatre-- the first being that there are people out there who think it is appropriate to wear shorts, t-shirts and flip flops to see a show. Call me old-fashioned but I believe that you get dressed up to go to the theatre. Church too, for that matter, but that's a post for a different day. The second is that I really really really love being at a musical, or any show really. I have my parents to thank for that. They started bringing us to shows at a young age, exposing us to the arts not only through dance lessons and music lessons, but by bringing us to see shows too. I forgot how much I love the theatre experience. Everything about it feels a little bit special and a little bit magical.

Of course, the best part of the day was spending time with my Mom and sister. As we get older, these moments, these memories, are more and more special and more and more cherished.

Friendship

Yesterday I hosted my first ever jewelry party. I had invited about 25 people and only seven were able to make it so we had a small crowd for a sunny Sunday afternoon. There were a few people that were coming to my house for the first time and meeting Aliza for the first time. So I found myself running around making sure that the house was very clean. Russ even caught the fever and went outside to mow and sweep. He even cut back the rose bush that has been encroaching on our little patio area AND picked up a garbage bin full of crab apples. (What is the point of a crab apple tree? Seriously. You can't eat them or cook with them.....they don't flower nicely or smell pretty....all they do is make apples that fall all over your lawn thus making it difficult to mow or walk.)

For some reason, I was particularly anxious about the opinion of one person. I have no idea why because she isn't necessarily one of my favorite people (I know that sounds mean but when someone talks about you behind your back to people who are bound to tell you what is said....well, that person is no longer on my favorite people list). I anticipated her walking into my house and instantly judging. She has one of those cookie cutter houses, decorated beautifully, with a pool and a hot tub and a perfectly manicured lawn that she loves to show off.....whereas my house has character. It is old and cozy and just perfect for our little family of three. However, when I thought about it from her eyes, and when I thought about what she potentially would say to colleagues of mine about my cozy little house....well, it made me a little anxious and threw me into a bit of a cleaning frenzy. It was a new feeling for me honestly. I've never felt the need to impress someone that I know is going to judge-and judge negatively- no matter what I do. And I, even in the midst of the cleaning frenzy, knew that what I was doing was absolutely ridiculous. I have nothing to prove, I love our house and I'm proud of the work we've done to it, and I stopped caring what this person thought about me awhile ago; realizing instead that we are different people with very different priorities and goals and work ethics. I realized yesterday that I felt like I was in high school all over again. I wasn't cool in high school and really had no desire to be. I had my close friends and that was enough for me. But, of course, deep down, don't we all want to sit at the cool kids table just once?

When everyone had left and I thought about the afternoon, all of my frantic energy seemed even more silly. There were people there that are my true friends....people who told me they loved my house and they thought Aliza was adorable--and they meant it. I was reminded of what I learned in high school: friendship is about being able to be yourself, and having people that love you just for that.

Nonnie

I have been missing her a lot lately. Maybe it is because of Aliza's baptism. In fact, it probably is because of that.....but lately, I feel her absence deeply. My Mom cried in church during Aliza's baptism. I turned around and saw her and knew, instantly, why she was crying. I was having a hard time holding it together myself, and, in fact, spent some time crying later that night. I wished she was there with us. I wished she could see what a beautiful little angel Aliza looked like. How proud Russ looked. How happy we all were. I wish I could have just one picture of my Nonnie holding my daughter....

Maybe this is blasphemous but I believe, deep in my soul, that my Nonnie helped Aliza to come into this world. See, we had been trying for awhile. Thirteen months to be exact. And I prayed and I cried and I hoped and I wished. And finally, I started talking to Nonnie about the whole thing. I talk to Nonnie still. Is that odd? Somehow it doesn't feel odd to me. Anyway, it was when I started talking to Nonnie--asking her to bless me with a baby-- that I became pregnant. Not right away, but only a month or two after. One of my regrets, when Nonnie lay sick and dying, was that I couldn't tell her I was pregnant. I had some cousins that got pregnant during those last months of her life and they were able to share that news with her and I remember feeling envious. Wishing I could give that gift to her because I knew it would make her heart happy. However, I have no doubt that she is watching over me, and Aliza.

Aliza is sleeping in her crib for the first time tonight. We had been talking about doing this for awhile, wanting her to be comfortable with her crib before the alarm has to be set for that early morning wake up call. I knew it was coming....I wanted things to be set though; I wanted a fan for her room (she's used to the air conditioner after all) and I wanted something that played music and flashed lights for her crib (she's used to that too, although I think she'd do just fine without it). I think that maybe I was stalling the transition a little. Tonight we visited some neighbors and Aliza, after not napping all day, fell asleep in my arms while we were there. So we decided, rather spontaneously, to put her in her crib for the night. I did it. I put her in her sleep sack and lay her down in her crib.

And then I got a little sad. I'll admit, I love having her right next to me at night. I love waking up and leaning over her bassinet to be greeted by her happy baby smile in the morning. I love that I can check to make sure she is breathing in the middle of the night without having to get out of bed. I love that she is the last thing I see when I close my eyes and the first thing I look at in the morning. I know she is fine in her crib. In fact, I suspect, once I'm used to it, I will sleep much better with her in the next room rather than breathing and sighing and cooing and coughing right next to me. But I miss her being in her bassinet already. And somehow, this too, makes me think of my Nonnie. I just know that she'd have something to say that would be wise, and maybe just a bit funny, and would somehow make me feel better. Because she was, after all, my Nonnie.

Baptism pictures

I'm sure I'll have more once my photographer brother sends me the amazing shots he took....but here are just a few pictures from Aliza's big day!

Proud godparents: Uncle Scott and Aunt Tina

Even prouder grandparents: Grospapa, Nonna, Grams and Gramps

Very proud Mommy and Daddy, with their beautiful little angel.....

Faith

Aliza's baptism is coming up soon. I started the process back when I was still pregnant, and spent little time thinking about the whole thing other than to know, without doubt, that I wanted her baptized at the church where we were married. We attended our baptismal class when I was still pregnant also, and I found it to be rather uninformative in a very disappointing way. Now that her baptism is right around the corner I find myself thinking about faith, and religion, and spirituality and all of those intangibles that are in some way-large or small-in everyone's life.


I was raised a Catholic. My relationship with the church, and with my own faith, has not been the easiest of journeys. The first major bump in the road came when I was a first year in college and a high school friend died in a car accident. I was angry. I was angry in a way that came from living a life that was filled with light and laughter and love and blessings. My parents did an amazing job sheltering us from the world and so this, this inexplicable, sudden, shocking, tragic death rocked me to my core and made me question so much of my world, and most especially my faith. I became angry at the people that said the platitudes--things like "God needed another angel" or "It was her time to go." She was 17. She hadn't been drinking or doing drugs or speeding. The two other people in the car walked away without even a broken bone. And my friend died. I didn't get it and I was pissed. I wanted an answer, I wanted to know why....

It took me awhile to figure out that there was no answer. It just was.


My second major bump also came in college....after my friend died I avoided church for awhile. Then I started to go back to it--slowly. I admit a part of it was for the social aspect--my roommate and a number of close friends were Catholic. Then I started going to a liturgical group on campus. We'd talk about upcoming readings and help the Chaplain with her sermon. It was a time where I came to struggle and question and wrestle with the bible and I enjoyed it. Until the other members of the group would say things like "if you don't believe ____ then you aren't really a Catholic" Wow. I didn't understand this....I was on this journey and taking some pride in not having blind faith. In questioning and struggling and discarding those beliefs which didn't make sense to me. To hear someone say that I wasn't truly a Catholic because I didn't believe every single teaching....well, that confused me and made me wonder if maybe I wasn't a true Catholic. This time it took me awhile to figure out that you could talk to a hundred different people who called themselves Catholic and discover that they each had their own set of beliefs.

After college I started going back to church with my mom and dad. I love this time that I get to have them all to myself. I love that Sunday morning has turned into my weekly dose of calm and reflection. A time where I get to stop and breathe and stand in awe at the blessings I have in my life and start a new week feeling lighter. I imagined, years ago, bringing my child with me to church with my parents....and now that dream is a reality.

Now I wonder what Aliza will learn from the church. Interestingly, my husband does not attend church, and, of course, I have never pressured him to do so. Because he is the amazing person that he is, he supports me--even getting married in a Catholic ceremony because he knew how important that was to me. He also supported the decision to raise Aliza Catholic, even though he himself doesn't believe in much of what the church has to say. Whenever we talk about faith I find myself frustrated with him. How do you explain a belief system that you have spent your whole life learning and defining? Especially when so much of it is indefinable....He approaches faith and spirituality in an intellectual way--talking about the history of the church, analyzing the beliefs that people hold. And I approach it in an emotional way--knowing what I believe comes from my own struggles and questions. Knowing that when my friend died, it was, at the end, my faith that helped me through it.

What's most interesting is that I actually believe my husband to be a rather spiritual person. Not in the believing in God sort of way, but in the way he lives his life. He is a good man. And he has a good soul. You can spend less than five minutes with him and learn that right away. And when I think about Aliza, and raising her in the church, I realize that what I really want for her is to take away the most important of lessons: to be a good person in everything that you do. I believe my husband is a good person, without being raised in the church. And I try my hardest to be a good person. So I hope that she finds that, in the church or out.....

Happy baby

Stats

At her one month check up, Aliza had the following stats:

Weight: 9 lbs 11.5 ounces

Height: 21 inches
(Both of these put her in about the 75th percentile)

Head circumference: 35.4 inches (that puts her in the 5th-10th percentile-- apparently she has a very tiny head. But it's growing, so that's OK. And frankly, I don't mind that her head was tiny, especially when she was delivered without an epidural.)

Today, at her two month check up, she had the following stats:

Weight: 12 pounds 2 ounces

Height: 22 1/4 inches

Three years ago....

Three years ago today I wore a white dress and said those two magical words that entwined my life forever with Russ'. Russ, in keeping with a tradition he began when we celebrated our first anniversary, documented our year together with a poem. Here it is:

Year Three:

Aliza Maria Sherman

Not long ago, on a day in September

We welcome hope to outshine our fear

A non-descript day flips to one we remember

Embracing the knowledge our child is near

On a day in May, with your hand in mine

Our prayers now answered by way of this gift

In this young girl I first see divine

Together, our future in our arms we lift

With father's eyes and her mother's kind heart

She begins her first chapter in our historical manse

Wrapped in blankets made with love from the start

A place where she will learn, love, and dance

But her life started far before this tale

On a day three years to this very date

When I pledge my life in every detail

Until the hour of my own life grows late

I don't think I could have said it any better....

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen things I love about Aliza:

(Of course, there are a TON more than 13, but Thursday 2,571 just sounds weird. And these are in no particular order...)

1) Her pinky toe. This may sound odd, but it is the cutest, teensie-weensiest little thing ever. It's about the size of a.....well, I honestly can't think of anything it is the same size as. Smaller than a piece of corn. Seriously. It's just adorable.

2) How, when you put her down on her back, her arms automatically raise above her head and her little hands clench into fists. That's how she sleeps--arms up above her head.

3) When she is eating she makes cute little noises. Contented little "eh, eh, eh..." sounds. It makes me smile every time--even at 3 in the morning!

4) In the morning, when she first wakes up, she kinda hangs out in her bassinet, looking around, checking out the world. And, if I'm lucky, as soon as I say her name or come into her field of vision she'll give me the biggest, happiest smile. As if she is just so thrilled to see me in the morning. It melts my heart....

5) When she is done eating, she pulls herself away from me and sometimes she smacks her lips. As if to say "Yummy, Mom!". If she doesn't smack her lips then she has her eyes closed and her little lips pursed.

6) Reading her bedtime stories. She looks so intent. Like she is really listening and understanding and processing the story. OK, OK, I know that is the teacher in me, wanting that to be what is happening, but she's definitely paying attention!

7) As she wakes up she makes cute little grunty noises. And she stretches and wiggles. Then she'll fall asleep again for a bit, then wake up all over again and make those same noises. It takes her a little while to really be awake and the process is just adorable.

8) Pretty much anytime her Daddy is holding her. Those are the moments I think my heart might just explode with love--for both of them.

9) Her constant look of surprise. You can hold a spoon in front of her and it's the most amazing thing ever. Her little mouth makes an O shape and her eyes get all big and she'll just stare and stare.

10) The way she is changing every day. The other day I noticed her eyelashes...I'm not sure when this happened but they are darker and longer and curlier than they were even two days ago. And her eyes--they went from this slate gray/blue color to a lighter blue. I'm hoping they stay blue....

11) Her hiccoughs. I feel so badly for her when she has them because her whole little body vibrates from their strength, but they are so cute. Kind of squeaky and louder than you might think.

12) Pretty much anytime she is snuggling with me, which is often. She is cozy and warm and drapey and smells good and all of the amazing things a little miracle baby ought to be. I especially love when she falls asleep on me. It's the coziest, most peaceful thing in the world.

13) Her name....this may sound silly but her name feels really special to me. She is a little bit of Russ' family and a little bit of mine and a little bit all her own. And I love that.....

Weighting

For the first time in my life I've become slightly obsessed about my weight. Actually, not so much my weight because I don't have a scale so I have no idea how much I weigh. I guess I'm more obsessed with my clothes. All the cute summer skirts and shirts that I can't wear because they don't fit my post-baby body.

I knew this would happen. I knew that it took nine months for me to gain the weight, and it would take awhile to get it off again. I also knew (and if you saw me that last month you would totally agree) that since the majority of my weight was in my belly (my God the thing was HUGE) it would take even longer for my belly to shrink to its pre-baby state. But knowing ahead of time and actually living it are two very different things.


I'm doing what I'm supposed to do--exercising, trying to avoid junk (although being home so much is dangerous. Too much temptation to just eat all day long), drinking lots of water etc. And I am shrinking. My husband had a new nickname for me lately--the incredibly shrinking woman. I've already even gone down a size. I refuse to buy a ton of new clothes. Why bother, I figure, when I won't wear them for long. This means that getting dressed in the morning kind of sucks. I have two pairs of maternity shorts that I still wear even though they are rather large. And two shorts I bought at Marshall's that are now too big of a size so they end up sagging in a most unattractive way within minutes of putting them on, and one pair of shorts that are my current size. That's it. It seems like a lot, but really, when you are wearing shorts every day, having only one pair that actually fits you..... Let's not even talk about shirts. My sister warned me that it would be difficult to find tops that fit across my newly enlarged chest as well as my protruding belly and she was right. I haven't even bought any new shirts, relying instead on the few t-shirts that I own that happen to fit me right now, and the three maternity t shirts that I bought for our February vacation. And the maternity shirts just emphasize the belly. So I try not to wear them if I know I'm going to be out in public.


So far my jeans have been the Test. I figure, when my jeans fit me again, and when I look good in them again, it means I have returned to my post baby size. Because we all know how unforgiving jeans can be. A few weeks ago, I couldn't even get them over my thighs and hips, forget about actually buttoning them. The other day, I tried again. This time, with much wiggling and grunting, I got them all the way on. Granted they are tighter than they ever used to be, and my rear fills them out in a way it never used to, and I couldn't even think about zippering or buttoning them.....but they were on and I'll admit I took some pleasure in that fact. I took even more pleasure in taking them off and putting on my cozy, loose, maternity shorts though.

The point I'm trying to make in the midst of all of this rambling is that it is amazing how clothes can make you feel. How a pair of shorts that actually fit can make you feel almost like yourself again. And the ones that don't can make you feel like a blobby bum. I'm looking forward to the day when I don't feel like a blobby bum....hopefully sooner rather than later!

Firsts

First time in a car seat:

First nap with Daddy:

First time meeting her oldest cousin:

First nap with Mommy:

And one of my favorites--first bath (which she loves).

Addendum

There were a few things I forgot to mention in my last post--things I most definitely want to remember....
I forgot to mention what an amazing birthing coach my husband was. Despite the fact that everyone seemed more worried about him than me before this process began, he was better than I would have even hoped. Supportive and sweet and not in any way irritating, even in the midst of the worst of the pain. He was given specific instructions by me--repeatedly--that he could not do the big sighs that he is famous for, and true to his word, not a single sigh escaped his lips. He cheered me on, held my hand, didn't complain when I practically broke his fingers, fed me ice chips with a shaking hand and was, in general, the amazing man I know and love.

He also gave me not one, not two, but three presents. He had gotten one for each stage of labor, but I went through the stages so quickly that he only ended up giving me one of the gifts prior to birth and the other two after Aliza was already born. The first was this, then this, and finally, this. I know, WOW!

And finally, the last addendum--her name. Russ and I knew, all along, that we wanted a family name. We wanted, ideally, one name from each side of the family. And I knew that I wanted to name her after my Nonnie. Both of us being teachers, there were automatically some names that we would never ever use. So, we both threw names out, back and forth. I honestly don't remember how we came to Aliza--a name from his side of the family. Elizabeth, with a slight twist to make it unique. I do know that at first I thought he was spelling it with an E--Eliza. And it was over February vacation, sitting on a beach, that Russ clarified that he meant Aliza. Once he said that I was sold. We started calling her by her name from then on. And, no, we didn't have a back up. Although I fear that she has been relegated to a life of people spelling or saying her name incorrectly, as it has already happened numerous times. But, for now at least, she shares the same initials as her Mom, which I think is pretty darn cool.

A baby story

It's funny that my last post was about my last day of school....when I wrote it I (obviously) had no idea that in just a few hours I would be meeting my daughter. My plan to spend at least a few days relaxing and doing random house projects rather abruptly ended at midnight on Friday....

I stayed at school late on Friday. I'll admit, I had a hard time leaving. I found myself cleaning and organizing even more, stalling the inevitable saying goodbye and somewhat enjoying the peace and solitude of my classroom....I got home late and was so drained from the day that I fell asleep, on top of the covers, by 9:00. At 12:15 I woke to a weird sensation....it felt like I was going to the bathroom in my pants. Half asleep, I stumbled to the bathroom, confused as to what was going on. I thought for a minute that my water had broken, but recalled a neighbor who told a story about losing control of her bladder near the end of her pregnancy. Since I wasn't experiencing any contractions, I thought that perhaps I was doing the same thing....even started thinking how I could tell this story to family and friends. After changing my clothes, I went downstairs and got Russ, who had fallen asleep on the couch. I told him I thought that maybe my water had broken. I admit, I felt like an idiot. This is one of those things I thought I, as a woman, should just know. He asked me what I meant, how come I wasn't sure...I explained that it felt more like I was peeing my pants than anything and that I wasn't having any contractions. We decided to wait, and we both went upstairs to go to bed. As I stood in my bedroom, mopping up the slight mess I had left, another puddle appeared on the ground. I looked at my husband--mostly asleep on the bed and asked, "See this? What is going on?" I still didn't fully comprehend that my water had broken. Apparently I needed it spelled out for me a little more clearly.....Russ went to sleep while I stuck a towel between my legs and went downstairs to clean the kitchen.

Yes. It's true. I cleaned the kitchen at 12:30, with a towel stuck between my legs. It was while I was scrubbing out the bathroom sink around 1:00 that the thought grew....the thought that this was insane, and what the hell was I doing?!? I woke Russ up again and told him I was going to call the doctor, which I finally did at 1:15. She called me back fifteen minutes later and I explained what had happened. She instructed me to come to the hospital so we both threw on some clothes and headed out. Before I did, I opened the mail. (Clearly I was not in my right mind.) But I did find the pictures my brother had taken the week before of my pregnant belly. Russ and I were still thinking this might be a practice run, so we decided not to call anyone, hating the thought of setting off a false alarm within our respective families.

On the way to the hospital I finally started experiencing my first contractions, but, admittedly, they were not much stronger than the Braxton Hicks I had been experiencing the last several months. We got to the hospital and parked in the wrong place, much like my sister had done when she was in labor. Walking around the block in, yes, the rain, my contractions started to feel stronger and Russ finally started timing them. We went through admissions and it was while in the wheel chair that it finally hit me: I'm having a BABY.

Once we got to the hospital room--now it is around 2:15, we called our respective parents. I assured my mom that there was no need to rush, but she wouldn't hear it and practically hung up in mid-sentence so she could leave--without my Dad because he was at a conference in Ohio and his one instruction when he left was "remember, don't have the baby while I'm away." Russ' parents were in Boston, so they debated about when to come but had initially decided to wait a bit and asked us to call them after the doctor visited. I got changed and hooked up to the monitors and settled in for what I assumed would be a long labor. Contractions were still ten minutes apart and lasting a minute.The doctor came in, and I was happy that it was someone from my practice. She didn't want to examine me because of the GBS, and instead assured me that all looked good based on the read outs and let me know she'd be back in a little while. My mom and sister showed up when the contractions were getting stronger and closer together. I desperately wanted to get out of bed, convinced that I'd feel better if I could sit on the birthing ball. I wasn't allowed to though because I still needed my antibiotics for the GBS. I was supposed to have antibiotics for four hours prior to delivery but the nurses were rather busy that night and assumed that, like all first labors, I'd be there for awhile. Needless to say, they weren't rushing to get to me--although I was in no way neglected. I finally got hooked up to an IV and out of bed. Contractions were now much closer together, about three minutes and lasting only 30 seconds. Right before getting out of bed, in the midst of a contraction, I started feeling a rather strong urge to PUSH. I was sure it was way too soon for such actions and even, in the midst of it all, said no a few times.

Sitting on the ball the feeling came again, even stronger. My sister asked me what was going on and I explained the urge. Thank goodness she was there because she immediately told a nurse, who, with a hint of skepticism, let us know she would tell the doctor. The doctor came in a few contractions later and asked me to get into bed so she could examine me. It was my first examination and upon finishing she looked up and said, "Oh my God." Which I think freaked my husband out just a bit. "You are fully dilated!" According to my sister, the look of utter panic on my face was almost comical and I informed the doctor, rather firmly, that I wanted an epidural. Like NOW. She told me it would be too late and I told her that I REALLY wanted that epidural. Apparently, by the time they even came up to administer it, the baby would be born. No epidural for me. And no time to panic about it because she was coming, drugs or not.

Now things were moving--the bed was transformed, my sister and mom left the room and the real work began. It was about 4:30 in the morning and the doctor gave me directions: tuck in your chin, hold your breath, elbows out and push through the contractions. One quick breath and push again. Being the good student that I am, I followed all of the directions. Again. And again. And again. And Oh. My. God. it hurt like nothing else I've ever experienced. There are no words, truly. But I kept going, and I'll tell you, I'm not sure how I did keep going. I think the only thought I had was that I will soon be meeting my daughter and I tried to hold that in my head through the pain.

Finally the doctor told me to do little pushes to minimize the tearing and even though, at that point, the head was crowning and my urge to push hard to just get her out was so incredibly strong, I again tried to follow directions. Actually, I thought the doctor was crazy to ask me to do little pushes, but, again, I follow directions well. This is when Russ, despite his earlier plans, decided to peek and this is when, after he did peek, I asked him if HE was OK. The nurses laughed at me then and told me that I'm crazy for worrying about him when I'm in the midst of delivery. I also got a mirror so I could see her head, and that might just have been what got me through the rest....knowing that she was so close....

A few contractions later and out she came, 5:51 a.m. Thank God it was a short labor because I honestly don't know if I could have done it without drugs if it were a long one. Did I mention it hurt? It happened so fast that Russ' family, who had decided to leave sooner rather than later, hadn't even made it into CT.

So, here she is, Aliza Maria, 6 lbs 9 oz, 21 inches long. Our little miracle.