At some point in Caleb's life, I intend to set some high expectations for my son. Straight A's, clean room, Eagle Scout, grills a juicy steak, 90 mph fastball. That kind of stuff.
At two months old - and for the next few years - there's only one hope: Normalcy.
It's difficult to be an extraordinary burper or have exceptional binky-sucking skills. Waiting for a commercial to use the bathroom doesn't really matter until one can actually use the bathroom.
The two exceptions may be eating and sleeping, and Caleb seems to fit in the normal category. We couldn't be prouder.
So far we're off to a great start with this low and incredibly satisfying bar. He still has all of the fingers and toes he brought into the world. Eyes open and close. Same for the mouth. Caleb is a little on the light side (10 pounds) and a little on the long side (22 1/2 inches). Weiler genetics are clearly at work here.
We've retired just about all of his "newborn" clothes and upgraded to 0-3 month gear. Same goes for diapers. Newborn size still fits, but won't hold his big-league poops, so rather than play roulette with each diaper we're giving him plenty of room in the seat.
Our man has found a sweet spot on his changing table. Who wouldn't be soothed by spending time exploring the ins and outs of a window well with their eyes? On second thought, he probably just enjoys a good look at all the light coming through the blinds.
Yeah, it's probably a light thing.
Up until a couple weeks ago we saw a lot of straight faces, blank stares and uneasy looks in between the fits of rage.
But recently there's been a lot more personality creeping through this toothless face.
Moments of calm have become minutes of calm.
Sleep sessions are lasting longer, particularly the ones in the evening (hallelujah). There are cries of laughter and joy to go with the cries for help. And every now and then we get this...
Katie misses cuddly Caleb but is smitten by this stage of life. Me? No doubt it's adorable, but I just want to keep him alive and kicking until he's big enough to move on his own and acknowledge the concept of toys, I'll have done my job.
Speaking of the mother of the family, Katie has become infatuated with more than just Caleb during her maternity leave ...
The idea was to give Katie something worthwhile to watch during the day, so rather than coming home to hear about a dozen episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress" and "Project Runway" I'd be thrown a few questions about smoke monsters and the Dharma Initiative from the latest Lost episode. And it worked, so well that she knocks out an entire disc in a day and is ready for the next one before I can get it reserved at the library.
Katie hates you, Ben Linus. I rather enjoy your mysterious nature.
As long as I can remember, there's been an informal tradition in my church for Mother's and Father's Day.
Mothers get flowers.
Fathers get candy bars.
For most of my single years, I'd been forced .... errrr ..... graciously offered to take a candy bar. Not a real dilema for sure, but it felt a little strange. It wasn't completely inaccurate either. I had callings with the youth of the ward, which is basically an effort in parenting, minus the tax breaks.
But this year was different. While I'd only held the distinguished title of "Caleb's Dad" for six weeks, it would be the most well-earned Snickers I'd ever tasted.
Just one problem: There were no candy bars for the fathers in my ward.
Instead, we took Caleb to his first sacrament meeting with family to hear my cousin report on his mission to North Carolina. He shared some great experiences, and Caleb was very cooperative with the help of one bottle and one walk around the building.
He also helped with part of his Grandpa Jorgensen's Father's Day card ...
and got his first taste of major championship golf, which included a lesson in the dangers of drinking on the golf course.
Normally I don't like to give extra attention to the idiots of the world, but this made me laugh. It capped off a day of strange sounds from the fans at this year's U.S. Open, including cries of "mashed potatoes" and "yabba-dabba-do."
This was also a first Father's Day for a couple other dads I know pretty well.
Big brothers are supposed to be the first ones to experience life's "firsts," but I've been lucky enough to enjoy nieces and nephews first and watch these guys care for their kids.
This not-so-little story begins with a two-word text I read on the way home from my weekly softball game.
"I'm bleeding."
Nerve-racking words for sure, but at the time they only signaled a long night ahead to me. Not a long night that ended with a baby boy but a long night for my wife to endure and me to hear about the next day through 30 texts at work. Just another day in the life of a husband of a pregnant wife.
Little did I know.
10:30 p.m. Katie’s still bleeding (you know, down
there). Visibly struggling. I've seen this concerned look before, but it seems worse this time. All I can do is sympathize and offer help.
12:45 a.m. The pain is now inciting vocal grimaces, but there’s a brief moment of comic relief
with Jimmy Kimmel’s Skype Scavenger Hunt game.
Jackie's cluelessness had Katie laughing so hard she was gasping for breath. Now I'm not a doctor, but in hindsight I think this was the turning point where labor went from "Heads up" to "Game on."
2:30 - 4:00 a.m. Awakened by Katie, who tells me she’s been shaking and
cramping and feels dehydrated. This will continue for three episodes of Full House (The ones where Stephanie
crashes Joey’s car into the house, DJ is accused of drinking beer at a school
dance, and Michelle is jealous when Jesse babysits for the neighbors (“Uncle Jesse,
Tony wants you”)
Katie begins searching for a spot that provides relief by standing and crouching over beside the bed, sitting in the glider and sitting on the toilet. Lying in bed is too painful. The kitchen is full of empty water bottles. Light and heavy clothes and blankets have been experimented with. My best guess is she’s coming
down with the flu and it needs time to break, though I know that doesn't explain the
cramping and bleeding. She saw her doctor earlier that day. Maybe her body's reacting to the poking and prodding?
I'm still not even contemplating the idea that this could be labor. We'd been preparing for a scheduled C-section since conception and had a delivery date set months ahead of time, I don't think the "L" word was ever in my lexicon, never mind the act of it.
5:00 a.m. Katie
makes the call to go the hospital. (There should be a sarcastic (finally!) inserted here, but I can't say that's exactly how I felt. I threw out that option hours ago and got little reaction. Katie had been fighting this for nearly 8 hours. We were past the life-or-death stage for both mom and baby.) But something is definitely not right, and we need some direction on how to treat whatever is going on. Katie instructs me to grab her hospital bag and the diaper bag, just
in case.
5:20 a.m. After hitting EVERY green light en route, Katie is admitted to the labor and delivery ward's triage room, changes into a gown and waits for a few minutes. A nurse comes
in and begins to check her out.
Nurse: Did your doctor check you yesterday?
Katie: No. He didn’t think he needed to.
Nurse: Well, you’re dilated to 8 cm. (Katie gasps "You're kidding" in disbelief as she comes to the realization that all those 10-20 second moments of excruciating pain during the night were actually contractions.) You sure you still
want a C-section?
Katie: Yep.
Nurse (on the phone): Someone call Katie's doctor and an anesthesiologist. I need anyone who can help prep for a C-section to come
ASAP. I want her ready to go in 15 minutes.
Within minutes three
more nurses are in the room and I've donned a blue jumpsuit with matching white booties and hair net. The anesthesiologist begins to briefs Katie about the drugs he's going to shove into her, says it's time to head to operating room, the doctor is on his way and oh-by-the-way, do I have my camera? (Here's comes comic relief moment #2)
Me: No. It's in the car.
Anesthesiologist: Run.
Me(to myself): In my hospital garb? Don’t
question the doctor. Run.
With a clearer head than mine, the receptionist stops me before darting out the door and takes the jumpsuit while I run to the car. I try to call Katie’s dad as I move and end up leaving a message that sounds
something like this: “Hi Dad. We're at the hospital. Everything is fine, but
Katie is fully dilated and we’re headed in for an emergency C-section. I’ll call you
as soon as I can.” I spend a good portion of the next couple hours wondering if I've just put Katie's parents in a unnecessary state of panic that will cause Katie's dad to immediately begin fasting and Katie's mom to warm up the car.
Katie doctor arrives in time to see her endure a few more contractions before receiving a spinal block. Katie (arms still shaky): Am I going to feel anything?
Anesthesiologist: Do you feel anything now?
Katie: No
Anesthesiologist: Good. The doctor's already made his incision.
The work has begun. I hold Katie’s hand, keeping direct eye contact and telling her how great she’s doing and to keep focusing on breathing. I stand up once during the surgery to get a look at what's going on occasionally and a once again just in time to see the doctor slide out 6 pounds and 5 ounces of life-altering human.
The rest, as they say, is his-story, but until he even knows what his story is, I'll keep telling it.
Days 1 through 4 were spent at the hospital. After getting cleaned up he and his mom got their first glimpse of each other.
Sort of a misleading first impression. They rarely wear hats.
Caleb took his Hep B shot like a man and then took his first bath like, well, a baby.
We had a steady flux of visitors to see the newest edition to the family, both in person and via Skype.
A treat for Dad from Uncle Doug and Aunt Leslie. Keep feasting on milk for now my boy, but when the times comes for the meat we may want to start here.
Flowers from mom's friends at work. The stuffed animal was for Caleb. Didn't know it at the time of delivery, but the duck was for cousin Brooklyn.
Mom is so thrilled she has a baby who will lay on her chest and cuddle with her. Of course, that's only when he's asleep. An awake Caleb is a wiggly Caleb.
If M.C. Escher did mother-child art, this is what I imagine it looking like.
Unlike Joey and Chandler, no one called us bracelet buddies, but I've been told we look a lot alike. And speaking of names, there must be a "baby pet name of the hour" posted for the nurses to use because we heard a different one every time. Some of my personal favorites were Mister Man, Munchkin Man, Precious and Sweet Pea.
And speaking of names Part 2, Caleb had to be placed in a BiliBed for a day to get rid of his jaundice, an image which conjured up images of baby Superman and had me calling him Kal-El
At three weeks old, Caleb's interests include eating at all hours, making inquisitive looks at his parents and trying to wear as many different animal-print outfits as he can in a day. His primary enemies are gas and spending any length time alone in his bassinet.
We've had tons of help the last three weeks as we start to figure out this parenting gig. We appreciate all those who brought groceries and meals and time spent at our home to keep us sane and Caleb happy, especially Aunt Lisa and Grandma Deedee.
Brooklyn and Carter wanted to introduce him to all his new friends. He got a bit overwhelmed.
***As most - if not all - of you already know, our son Caleb was born on Thursday a week ahead of schedule. A future post will soon be in the works about this blessed day, but I'm keeping my pre-determined blog schedule with this post.*****
As our little family enjoys our first Mother's Day with child in tow, it's time to look back at the memories that led up to Caleb's birth.
THE ANNOUNCEMENT.
Any time Katie wasn't feeling well and dealing with female "stuff," she would jokingly toss out the possible of pregnancy. And I took it as a joke. Until I noticed a white stick sitting in the garbage.
So after a few days in a row of hearing about female stuff, I had a pretty good idea what was coming the morning she pulled me out of bed and dragged me into the bathroom.
The news was in. The fun had begun. And by fun, I mean yakking. And by yakking, I mean complaining ….. err….. nausea.
THE NAUSEA.
Every pregnancy is different. Every woman has unique issues and handles them in her own way. But if there was one challenge to characterize Katie's pregnancy, I would say it was a nauseating one.
Once it became clear this nasty nausea was here to stay, we looked for distractions rather than solutions. In worst-to-first order of effectiveness, the winners were ….
Criminal Minds. Hotch and the rest of the FBI's Behavior Analysis Unit provided a new TV series to us with re-runs airing on at least 4 different channels. But over time it produced a new distraction for Katie: fear. Fear of abduction, fear of psychopaths, fear of the world we were bringing this child into. Not a healthy thought process for a mommy in training.
So we became good friends with the library and got our book on. Katie got a few recommendations and read about a dozen books including these in anticipation for their movies (the only two we've seen in theaters for the past nine months).
They were a good way to focus her energy elsewhere, and at times they put her mind at ease so she could sleep. The problem with these was longevity. Little Mrs. Preggers cruises through a book like her husband cruises through a half gallon of chocolate milk.
Turned out, the best way to sidestep the uneasy queasies was puzzles.
And more puzzles.
And more puzzles. I knew we were on to something when I came home from work one day to find the previous puzzle gone and a new one completed in its entirety. That meant Katie had spent about 4 hours that day at work and 4 hours knocking out “Washington DC”. This will certainly become one of those stories I tell my son about his mom's pregnancy.
After the first half dozen puzzles, you start to push the limits of its capabilities as a toy.
THE FOOD / WATER.
Prior to pregnancy we’d eat out occasionally, but in about a three-week span we hit every joint within a 10 mile radius. A heartfelt golf clap to those establishments who kept Katie fed and Rob away from the stove top. Except for you, Panda Express, for providing the meal that pushed Katie over the edge for her one and only eye-level visit to the toilet.
Familiar tastes were iffy at times (Spaghetti, Asian and Thai food). Cooking smells didn't suit her (Eggs). And even just the sight of uncooked meat or chicken was tough at times too, which led to a few moments like this ....
An old trick I learned in college. Just because the Foreman grill was made for the indoors, that doesn't mean it won't work on the balcony (right, Butters?)
As long as I’ve known Katie a bottle of the water has been her constant companion, so when water became a struggle to chug for a couple months it stressed her out and let the proverbial cat out of the bag before we hoped to do so. Thus, we looked for new options. Vitamin water won out for a few days. Gatorade had its 15 seconds of fame, but primarily it became a battle of juices.
THE SLEEP (OR LACK THEREOF)
I had no idea our trip to Disney World last year was just the tip of the iceberg for what was to come in terms of bathroom trips. Particularly at night. And when she wasn't getting up to go, she was sitting up to adjust the Pillow Pyramid. Oh the Pillow Pyramid.
If there was one positive for me about this fluffy monstrosity, it was the comfort it provided while I would rub Katie's back and feet. The Utah College of Massage Therapy offered me an honorary doctorate for my efforts over the past few months, but I didn't feel right receiving an award for something that was a simple labor of love :)
THE BABY PREP
Our boy is in good hands with his mom. If it were up to his dad, he would've had to get by with a fraction of the supplies we've collected. (A trash can and liners specifically for dirty diapers? Really?)
See that honkin' dresser (purchased with gift money). It's stocked to the brim with clothes, blankets, toys and other goodies thanks to incredibly generous and loving family and friends just like you. We can't thank you all enough for the showers, support, gifts and well wishes. Don't be surprised if you ever get a gift from us that comes in a familiar looking gift bag. You'd better believe I'm hanging on to those.
THE OUTINGS
I knew my job for these nine months. Sit. Console. Listen. Obey. Zip the lip.
And I did. But given my out-and-about personality, I still forced her out of the house and into the public domain.
Days after “The Stick That Changed Our World” we were invited to go here….
and two weeks later we headed back to Provo for the BYU Homecoming Spectacular featuring this fellow…..
A fine idea for a birthday gift when the tickets were purchased, but not the “my husband is the best” moment I was targeting. If there’s any possibility of another pregnancy next year, I’ll skip the tickets and splurge on the DVD. It should also be noted here that riding in a car is a necessary evil for Katie. Add me as the driver and it gets even more dicey. Add freeway construction and it becomes a nightmare. Add rainy weather and it becomes heart-attack inducing. Add pregnancy and it becomes torture.
Fortunately Katie didn't hold a grudge for too long, as evidenced by her Christmas gift to me ....
Hey Brian Regan, tell me the one about Little League again.
And we made it to our annual Jazz-Suns game, courtesy of The Rose Shop (call 801-501-ROSE and ask for Lance Larkin), to see our two favorite NBA players ....
Which gives me confidence that in a few months she'll enjoy my Christmas gift to her.
Pregnancy, a nine-month tradition unlike any other.
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