January 10, 2012
Wow was born on January 10, 2012 - with little fuss and less drama a few short hours after my water broke on the bathroom floor. Our arrival in the dark, seemingly deserted hospital during the first hours of the morning was announced by a drunk man in the ER waiting room who yelled "Whoooooaaaa!! Are you in LABOR?!" when he saw me stabilizing myself against a chair in the brace of a contraction. The ER nurse emerged from the triage area with a wheelchair and brought me to Labor and Delivery. He was born, clocked in at 7lbs, 5oz, then feel asleep for a few days.
We brought him home.
When Wow was 22 days old he had a low grade fever. Because of his age, this required an ER visit, multiple attempts at IVs, blood draws, and two different attempts at lumbar puncture. He and I stayed in the hospital for 48 hours while he received IV antibiotics, first through an IV in his scalp, which fell out and was replaced by one in his hand.
Meeting the Family
Munch had not received strangers well, even when those strangers were her blood relations. This pattern was not repeated by Wow, who, drawing upon all the self possession and confidence granted by two month's ex-utero worldliness, met his Grammy, Tia, and her Papi with an enthusiasm typically reserved for holidays that involve presents and desserts that involve chocolate.
We spent the last few weeks of my maternity leave with LD and MIL and FIL in The Bahamas. We had debated as to whether it was a good idea to take him on such a long trip so soon after his illness, while he was still very young, and right before I would start work again and he would be subjected to another significant change in his short life. In the end we decided to go, for many reasons, not the least of which were 1. a family vacation would be a lot of fun 2. Wow was proving himself a resilient little kid.
His first flight.
Wow spent the majority of the trip various states of un- or insufficient dress. This pic is one of the few that doesn't expose either his man bits or wrinkled little butt.
Mama goes back to work
I went back to work in April and, while the transition was far from seamless, someone handled this significant change without so much as flinching.
For the first three weeks after Munch started daycare it was as if we were living with a feral animal. I expected the crying and clinging that ensued during drop offs, but did not anticipate the hitting, spitting, and kicking that took place at home, after school hours.
Within days of starting he developed eye crusties and a drippy nose, but he eased through this transition just as he had getting sick, multiple trips and airline travel (by this point he had been dragged to Angel Fire and Portland twice), my return to work, and a few different caretakers in our home.
Bring it mom. We got this.
In August we returned to The Bahamas with LD and MIL. This trip was complicated by the Isaac storm, although in the end the issue was more one of flight cancellations than weather safety. Wow spent the majority of this trip slung over my hip or in the Ergo.
We learned it was easier to baby-proof for baby #1 than for baby #2 because when baby #1 is 3 years old everything she owns (1) visually appealing to baby #2 (2) a choking hazard and (3) suddenly within grasp of baby #2. While on reconnaissance for these brightly colored weapons of asphyxiation, Wow used his new powers of mobility to physically distance himself from our potential interference.
In November Mita stayed with us for a few weeks while I worked inpatient and LD was out of town. Wow disabused us quickly of the half formed resolution to implement a strict reading regimen. Later in the month we road tripped it to Portland where he met up with an old buddy of his.
Wow said a few words - mama, dada, and UH-OH, which he'd say after launching an undesirable bit of food over the side of his plastic tray. I've explained the concept of "premeditation" but he continued in this pattern.
In twelve months I've had to unlearn and re-learn principles of parenthood as they did, did not, or half applied to raising Wow. Not all children hate sleeping. Shared genetic material does not predict for shared timing of milestones, teething, or temperament. He's not going to let me feed him, so it's better to just hand over the spoon. Babies don't suffer in silence.
Prolonged silence, however, means he's pouring shampoo onto the bathroom floor.
Happy birthday Wow.