Height: 30 3/4" (85th percentile)
Weight: 24 lbs 12 oz (75th percentile)
Head: 18 7/8"
Teeth: 4 bottom middle, 4 top middle
Monday, October 27, 2008
12 months stats
Height: 30 3/4" (85th percentile)
Weight: 24 lbs 12 oz (75th percentile)
Head: 18 7/8"
Teeth: 4 bottom middle, 4 top middle
Saturday, September 27, 2008
11 months
Dear Cole:
Today, you turn 11 months old, and I am both excited and sentimental. I am excited because your birthday is approaching, and I can’t wait to see you eat cake and tear through the wrapping paper on your presents and delight everyone with your smiles. But I am also sentimental because a month from now, you will no longer be considered a baby. You will be 1, and you will be a toddler (although I am pretty certain you will not be toddling yet by that time). This is your last non-birthday birthday, the last time we count your age in months instead of years. One, three or six months from now, we will tell people that you are 1, not 12, 14 or 17 months. The end of your babyhood is no longer a distant dot on the horizon. It is here, right in front of me. But, as I tell your brother, you will always be my baby.
This month had some good, bad and the ugly. Your biggest accomplishment this month is learning how to climb the stairs, and now you want to do nothing else but. You always have a huge grin on your face when you do it—it’s as if you simply can’t stop giggling. We started moving one of our armchairs in front of the stairs to block your way, yet you put such valiant effort in trying to either move the chair or try to squeeze your way through on the side of the chair. This morning, I saw you looking under the chair, assessing if you can fit your body under it and get through that way. We are working with you on teaching you how to get down safely, and you have not been particularly interested in paying attention because you only want to go up. But today, several times in a row you went both up and down, and gave yourself a huge round of applause once you got back to the bottom of the stairs, so perhaps we are turning the corner.
The bad/the ugly of this month has been your third ear infection in less than three months. You just finished the round of amoxicillin for ear infection #2, and a few days later, you got another cold with a runny nose. Several days later you started pulling on your ears, but otherwise you were acting fine, so we held out hope that perhaps it was related to teething. Well, one night, you woke up at midnight and then continued waking up crying every hour. You would only sleep in my arms—and even then, not for long. By 4 am, you began to run a fever, something that hasn’t happened since you were just a couple months old. Tylenol took the edge off, but you still weren’t yourself during the day. You slept much better the following night, but I decided to call the doctor nonetheless. At the appointment, we discovered that you had two ear infections, and one of them was so bad that it ruptured your ear drum. And this one exactly a week to the day since we last went to the doctor and got a clean bill of health from your previous infection. So now you are taking augmentin, an antibiotic that’s a step up from amoxicillin. The pediatrician said that if you get another infection soon after this one, we may have to go see an ENT. Ugh. Six days after you started taking this new medication, you broke out in what to me looked like hives, so I took you to the doctor again to rule out an allergic reaction to the drug. After consulting with several people in the office, they determined that it was not an allergy but a viral rash, probably associated with your cold. The antibiotic has also seemed to loosen your bowels, so you have the meanest, angriest diaper rash, and to hear you scream in pain when I change your diaper just breaks my heart. It is a different type of cry than any other—not angry, not frustrated, not upset—just so hurt. I feel a pit in my stomach just thinking about it. It will get better, my baby, it will get better soon. Of all the ointments I tried, Aquafor seems to be the one causing you the least pain, so we’ll stick with it for a while.
But despite being sick for a good portion of this month, you are still such a delightful baby. Your worst days, the days when you are sick, are still better than ‘average’ days of some other kids. You take it in stride, you smile, you do your usual things, you eat well—the only difference is perhaps that your patience is a little shorter than usual and you are little more likely to ask to be carried.
You love looking at books, flipping the pages for long periods of time. You are not as interested in being read to—you like to ‘read’ the books by yourself, on your own terms. You love playing ball, and you are really good at handling the ball—be it a big soccer ball or a small ball the size of your hand. You love to throw and kick, and we’ve spent as much as 15-20 minutes at a time rolling/throwing the ball to each other. You love playing peek-a-boo and showing us ‘so big.’ You pull yourself up on everything, but you haven’t really ‘cruised’ yet. You love standing against the glass door and looking outside. You created a new game where you reach toward me when your daddy is holding you, and as soon as he hands you to me, you start reaching back for him—and we keep going back and forth. You love splashing in the bath. You love pushing cars, big and small, on the floor and making engine sounds. Most of all, you love watching your brother, especially when he pays attention to you and plays with you.
You wave ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ most of the time. You use baby signs for ‘more’ and ‘all done,’ and I haven’t done a great job of introducing other signs to you. You still bounce to the music and clap your hands when you are happy. You started giving me big-mouth kisses after you finish nursing—quite possibly the best reward of this whole nursing experience for me.
Your eating habits have been interesting, to say the least. You are a great eater, it’s just that you like to trick us by switching your preferences constantly. About two months ago, you went through a stage where you were not at all interested in formula until we accidentally figured out that you wanted your bottles warmed up instead of room temperature—and then you started taking them again happily. Now you are back to being just fine with room temperature. Right around the time you turned 10 months, you decided that you were so over baby foods and refused to eat anything given to you with spoon. So we started giving you all finger foods, until about a week ago, you lost your interest in most of those and went back to being happy spoon-fed. So now we are doing a combination of the two, which, I guess, is quite normal for this age—but I just wish you wouldn’t change your mind so frequently. Next time, I expect a memo—a seven-day notice will suffice.
Cole, you continue to delight us daily. When I was telling Daddy about what a wonderful little boy you are, he said, “How did we ever live without him?”
Love you, my sweet,
Your mama
Today, you turn 11 months old, and I am both excited and sentimental. I am excited because your birthday is approaching, and I can’t wait to see you eat cake and tear through the wrapping paper on your presents and delight everyone with your smiles. But I am also sentimental because a month from now, you will no longer be considered a baby. You will be 1, and you will be a toddler (although I am pretty certain you will not be toddling yet by that time). This is your last non-birthday birthday, the last time we count your age in months instead of years. One, three or six months from now, we will tell people that you are 1, not 12, 14 or 17 months. The end of your babyhood is no longer a distant dot on the horizon. It is here, right in front of me. But, as I tell your brother, you will always be my baby.
This month had some good, bad and the ugly. Your biggest accomplishment this month is learning how to climb the stairs, and now you want to do nothing else but. You always have a huge grin on your face when you do it—it’s as if you simply can’t stop giggling. We started moving one of our armchairs in front of the stairs to block your way, yet you put such valiant effort in trying to either move the chair or try to squeeze your way through on the side of the chair. This morning, I saw you looking under the chair, assessing if you can fit your body under it and get through that way. We are working with you on teaching you how to get down safely, and you have not been particularly interested in paying attention because you only want to go up. But today, several times in a row you went both up and down, and gave yourself a huge round of applause once you got back to the bottom of the stairs, so perhaps we are turning the corner.
The bad/the ugly of this month has been your third ear infection in less than three months. You just finished the round of amoxicillin for ear infection #2, and a few days later, you got another cold with a runny nose. Several days later you started pulling on your ears, but otherwise you were acting fine, so we held out hope that perhaps it was related to teething. Well, one night, you woke up at midnight and then continued waking up crying every hour. You would only sleep in my arms—and even then, not for long. By 4 am, you began to run a fever, something that hasn’t happened since you were just a couple months old. Tylenol took the edge off, but you still weren’t yourself during the day. You slept much better the following night, but I decided to call the doctor nonetheless. At the appointment, we discovered that you had two ear infections, and one of them was so bad that it ruptured your ear drum. And this one exactly a week to the day since we last went to the doctor and got a clean bill of health from your previous infection. So now you are taking augmentin, an antibiotic that’s a step up from amoxicillin. The pediatrician said that if you get another infection soon after this one, we may have to go see an ENT. Ugh. Six days after you started taking this new medication, you broke out in what to me looked like hives, so I took you to the doctor again to rule out an allergic reaction to the drug. After consulting with several people in the office, they determined that it was not an allergy but a viral rash, probably associated with your cold. The antibiotic has also seemed to loosen your bowels, so you have the meanest, angriest diaper rash, and to hear you scream in pain when I change your diaper just breaks my heart. It is a different type of cry than any other—not angry, not frustrated, not upset—just so hurt. I feel a pit in my stomach just thinking about it. It will get better, my baby, it will get better soon. Of all the ointments I tried, Aquafor seems to be the one causing you the least pain, so we’ll stick with it for a while.
But despite being sick for a good portion of this month, you are still such a delightful baby. Your worst days, the days when you are sick, are still better than ‘average’ days of some other kids. You take it in stride, you smile, you do your usual things, you eat well—the only difference is perhaps that your patience is a little shorter than usual and you are little more likely to ask to be carried.
You love looking at books, flipping the pages for long periods of time. You are not as interested in being read to—you like to ‘read’ the books by yourself, on your own terms. You love playing ball, and you are really good at handling the ball—be it a big soccer ball or a small ball the size of your hand. You love to throw and kick, and we’ve spent as much as 15-20 minutes at a time rolling/throwing the ball to each other. You love playing peek-a-boo and showing us ‘so big.’ You pull yourself up on everything, but you haven’t really ‘cruised’ yet. You love standing against the glass door and looking outside. You created a new game where you reach toward me when your daddy is holding you, and as soon as he hands you to me, you start reaching back for him—and we keep going back and forth. You love splashing in the bath. You love pushing cars, big and small, on the floor and making engine sounds. Most of all, you love watching your brother, especially when he pays attention to you and plays with you.
You wave ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ most of the time. You use baby signs for ‘more’ and ‘all done,’ and I haven’t done a great job of introducing other signs to you. You still bounce to the music and clap your hands when you are happy. You started giving me big-mouth kisses after you finish nursing—quite possibly the best reward of this whole nursing experience for me.
Your eating habits have been interesting, to say the least. You are a great eater, it’s just that you like to trick us by switching your preferences constantly. About two months ago, you went through a stage where you were not at all interested in formula until we accidentally figured out that you wanted your bottles warmed up instead of room temperature—and then you started taking them again happily. Now you are back to being just fine with room temperature. Right around the time you turned 10 months, you decided that you were so over baby foods and refused to eat anything given to you with spoon. So we started giving you all finger foods, until about a week ago, you lost your interest in most of those and went back to being happy spoon-fed. So now we are doing a combination of the two, which, I guess, is quite normal for this age—but I just wish you wouldn’t change your mind so frequently. Next time, I expect a memo—a seven-day notice will suffice.
Cole, you continue to delight us daily. When I was telling Daddy about what a wonderful little boy you are, he said, “How did we ever live without him?”
Love you, my sweet,
Your mama
Monday, September 8, 2008
I want to remember...
Dear Cole:
I started to write this note on August 7. A month later, I still haven't had a chance to finish it. So forgive me for posting it as is. These memories are a work in progress; every month (day?) brings so many things that I don't want to forget, so I see these "I want to remember..." posts as ongoing installments.
=====
Dear Cole:
I think I need to let go of the idea that I can write some well thought-out letters here and instead simply start writing. You are nine months old now, and the time seems to be flying by—and with it, it carries away the memories that I so desperately want to hold on to.
I forgot just how busy the first year is—with its seemingly never-ending washing of bottles, feeding, sterilizing, laundry, packing lunches, making dinners, straightening up the house, minimizing the amount of crap on the carpet that you will most definitely put in your mouth, and so on. You are easy, so amazingly easy, so I am not complaining. Plus, I know that it will get easier as many of these tasks will fade away or become less urgent as time passes. It’s just that I wish the time wasn’t going quite so fast. I wish for more time to pause and savor the moment. Savor the time with you, your brother, our family.
So forgive me for the lack of eloquence and poorly constructed sentences. The fleeting nature of time is forcing me to choose between not writing at all and writing poorly—and I chose the latter. I choose to keep the memories, however ineloquent they may be.
I want to remember how you love to press your face against something when you sleep. In the bassinet, you always pressed your face against the side of it. You press your face against my breast when you fall asleep nursing. Because of this, you had a tough time transitioning to the crib without bumpers—there was nothing for you to press your face against, only the cold slats of the crib walls. Now that you can roll over, you sleep on your tummy, with your knees bent under your body and your face pressed against the mattress. This sleeping position worries us, but if we attempt to roll you onto your side, you immediately roll back onto your tummy, face flat against the mattress.
I want to remember how much you love to eat. You get so excited when you know you will get to nurse that your mouth comes wide open and your body wiggles in anticipation. I used to call you ‘my little piranha’ because you would latch on with such speed and intensity, regardless of whether I was ready. At one point, you even tried to latch on through my t-shirt. You share the same excitement for solid foods. You used to say ‘mmmmmm’ after every bite. When you watch us eat, you look at us so intently and smack your lips and tongue as if trying to taste it.
I want to remember how much you adore your brother. No one can make you laugh like Jon can, no one makes your eyes light up like he does. You always want to know what Jon is doing, your head spinning immediately when you hear his voice.
I want remember how you like to kick your legs when you sit. You sit with both of your legs bent, making a diamond shape—and you kick your legs by straightening them legs out, one in, one out, as fast as you can. You do that when you are excited or when you are frustrated. I wonder how you don’t get carpet burns on the outside of your feet from moving them so fast.
I want to remember how you ‘dance’ to the music. You sit on your bottom, and bounce your body up and down, as if there is a little spring in your diaper. It is adorable.
=====
That's where I left off a month ago. There is much more to come, I promise.
Love you, my sweet.
Your mama
I started to write this note on August 7. A month later, I still haven't had a chance to finish it. So forgive me for posting it as is. These memories are a work in progress; every month (day?) brings so many things that I don't want to forget, so I see these "I want to remember..." posts as ongoing installments.
=====
Dear Cole:
I think I need to let go of the idea that I can write some well thought-out letters here and instead simply start writing. You are nine months old now, and the time seems to be flying by—and with it, it carries away the memories that I so desperately want to hold on to.
I forgot just how busy the first year is—with its seemingly never-ending washing of bottles, feeding, sterilizing, laundry, packing lunches, making dinners, straightening up the house, minimizing the amount of crap on the carpet that you will most definitely put in your mouth, and so on. You are easy, so amazingly easy, so I am not complaining. Plus, I know that it will get easier as many of these tasks will fade away or become less urgent as time passes. It’s just that I wish the time wasn’t going quite so fast. I wish for more time to pause and savor the moment. Savor the time with you, your brother, our family.
So forgive me for the lack of eloquence and poorly constructed sentences. The fleeting nature of time is forcing me to choose between not writing at all and writing poorly—and I chose the latter. I choose to keep the memories, however ineloquent they may be.
I want to remember how you love to press your face against something when you sleep. In the bassinet, you always pressed your face against the side of it. You press your face against my breast when you fall asleep nursing. Because of this, you had a tough time transitioning to the crib without bumpers—there was nothing for you to press your face against, only the cold slats of the crib walls. Now that you can roll over, you sleep on your tummy, with your knees bent under your body and your face pressed against the mattress. This sleeping position worries us, but if we attempt to roll you onto your side, you immediately roll back onto your tummy, face flat against the mattress.
I want to remember how much you love to eat. You get so excited when you know you will get to nurse that your mouth comes wide open and your body wiggles in anticipation. I used to call you ‘my little piranha’ because you would latch on with such speed and intensity, regardless of whether I was ready. At one point, you even tried to latch on through my t-shirt. You share the same excitement for solid foods. You used to say ‘mmmmmm’ after every bite. When you watch us eat, you look at us so intently and smack your lips and tongue as if trying to taste it.
I want to remember how much you adore your brother. No one can make you laugh like Jon can, no one makes your eyes light up like he does. You always want to know what Jon is doing, your head spinning immediately when you hear his voice.
I want remember how you like to kick your legs when you sit. You sit with both of your legs bent, making a diamond shape—and you kick your legs by straightening them legs out, one in, one out, as fast as you can. You do that when you are excited or when you are frustrated. I wonder how you don’t get carpet burns on the outside of your feet from moving them so fast.
I want to remember how you ‘dance’ to the music. You sit on your bottom, and bounce your body up and down, as if there is a little spring in your diaper. It is adorable.
=====
That's where I left off a month ago. There is much more to come, I promise.
Love you, my sweet.
Your mama
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
9 months stats
Height: 30" (93rd percentile)
Weight: 22 lbs 12 oz (80th percentile)
Head: 18 3/4" (96th percentile)
Teeth: 2 bottom middle
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
6 months stats
Height: 27 1/4" (75th percentile)
Weight: 21.7 lbs (95th percentile)
Head: 18" (90th percentile)
Teeth: 2 bottom middle
Monday, April 28, 2008
The firsts of five
On Sunday, you turned six months old. But before I go reminiscing about this half-year mark, let me tell you what an amazing month month 5 was. Five has been the months of firsts.
Around the beginning of month 5, you discovered your feet and the fact that you can grab them and bring them to your mouth while lying on your back. This newfound knowledge successfully ended any hope that we had for you rolling over. Now that you have something to do while lying down, you’ve realized that rolling over is highly overrated. Now when we force tummy time on you, you don’t even attempt to roll over anymore—you simply cry with great frustration.
Also at the beginning of month 5, you started learning how to sit up, and by the end of the month, you have perfected this skill. We still put a Boppy around you at times, but you are fully capable of sitting up on you own, and over the last few days, I have seen you even reach for something away from you and then pull yourself back up to sitting. You seem quick keen on sitting up, so you now have very little patience for your bouncy chair—the recline on it is just too boring for you.
Two days after you turned 5 months, you boarded your very first flight to embark on your very first vacation to our favorite city—San Diego. You did a wonderful job on the plane, and you were a real trooper on the trip. You did not care too much for being in the stroller, so we ended up carrying you a lot (thank goodness for Baby Bjorn and Moby). You love to watch people, and being in the stroller must have not given you a good vantage point for people watching. You handled being away from home and the transition to a different time zone as if it was nothing.
When we returned from vacation, you had another first—your first solid food. While many babies (your brother included) have a tough time at first figuring out how to eat solids, you acted as if you’ve been eating from a spoon for years. You knew exactly when to open your mouth, how to get the food off the spoon, how to swallow it and how to open your mouth again in request for more. So far, you’ve had rice, peas, pears and oatmeal with great pleasure (although I am sad to say that you had a mild allergic reaction to oatmeal, so we will have to hold off on that for a little while).
As if to say, “now that I am eating solids, I could probably use a few of these,” two days after you had your first solid meal, you grew a tooth. Two days later, another tooth appeared. They did not seem to bother you much—or perhaps we were blaming your mild crankiness and ear pulling on recovering from travel when it was actually teething pain.
To celebrate these accomplishments, you figured out how to clap your hands, and you exercise this ability quite frequently and very skillfully—to our very enthusiastic “yay’s” and “bravo’s.” You always have a huge smile on your face when you clap your hands.
You continue to be completely captivated by your brother. These days I find it difficult to feed you with Jon in the room because you always want to know what Jon is doing and get really distracted. So I shouldn’t be surprised that it was your brother who elicited your very first belly laugh. You’ve giggled before, but this was a full-out, long laugh in response to a silly song Jon was singing. Of course, hearing your laugh made Jon laugh too, which made you laugh even more, and two of you kept laughing at each other for a long time until I realized that I should grab a camera, and by the time I turned it on, both of you stopped.
You also show great compassion for your brother—when Jon cries, you often cry too—not a frustrated angry cry but a sad, empathetic one.
As the last first of month 5, you attended your very first baseball game two days before your six-month birthday. It was our first family game of the season—and the first one at the Nationals’ new stadium (which is quite fantastic, by the way). You were captivated by all of the people and kept smiling at the ladies sitting above us. The final score was 5-3, although we left at 3-3, with Nationals making a two-run home run at the bottom of the ninth inning to win the game. It would have been great to see, but all things considered, the fact that we lasted though the beginning of the eight inning with a baby and a four-year-old is nothing to sneeze at.
So just like the winning score of five for the Nationals, 5 has been an amazing month for us. I am sure the next month will bring lots of excitement as well, but I think 5 will be tough to beat. Happy 6 months, my love.
Love,
Mom
Around the beginning of month 5, you discovered your feet and the fact that you can grab them and bring them to your mouth while lying on your back. This newfound knowledge successfully ended any hope that we had for you rolling over. Now that you have something to do while lying down, you’ve realized that rolling over is highly overrated. Now when we force tummy time on you, you don’t even attempt to roll over anymore—you simply cry with great frustration.
Also at the beginning of month 5, you started learning how to sit up, and by the end of the month, you have perfected this skill. We still put a Boppy around you at times, but you are fully capable of sitting up on you own, and over the last few days, I have seen you even reach for something away from you and then pull yourself back up to sitting. You seem quick keen on sitting up, so you now have very little patience for your bouncy chair—the recline on it is just too boring for you.
Two days after you turned 5 months, you boarded your very first flight to embark on your very first vacation to our favorite city—San Diego. You did a wonderful job on the plane, and you were a real trooper on the trip. You did not care too much for being in the stroller, so we ended up carrying you a lot (thank goodness for Baby Bjorn and Moby). You love to watch people, and being in the stroller must have not given you a good vantage point for people watching. You handled being away from home and the transition to a different time zone as if it was nothing.
When we returned from vacation, you had another first—your first solid food. While many babies (your brother included) have a tough time at first figuring out how to eat solids, you acted as if you’ve been eating from a spoon for years. You knew exactly when to open your mouth, how to get the food off the spoon, how to swallow it and how to open your mouth again in request for more. So far, you’ve had rice, peas, pears and oatmeal with great pleasure (although I am sad to say that you had a mild allergic reaction to oatmeal, so we will have to hold off on that for a little while).
As if to say, “now that I am eating solids, I could probably use a few of these,” two days after you had your first solid meal, you grew a tooth. Two days later, another tooth appeared. They did not seem to bother you much—or perhaps we were blaming your mild crankiness and ear pulling on recovering from travel when it was actually teething pain.
To celebrate these accomplishments, you figured out how to clap your hands, and you exercise this ability quite frequently and very skillfully—to our very enthusiastic “yay’s” and “bravo’s.” You always have a huge smile on your face when you clap your hands.
You continue to be completely captivated by your brother. These days I find it difficult to feed you with Jon in the room because you always want to know what Jon is doing and get really distracted. So I shouldn’t be surprised that it was your brother who elicited your very first belly laugh. You’ve giggled before, but this was a full-out, long laugh in response to a silly song Jon was singing. Of course, hearing your laugh made Jon laugh too, which made you laugh even more, and two of you kept laughing at each other for a long time until I realized that I should grab a camera, and by the time I turned it on, both of you stopped.
You also show great compassion for your brother—when Jon cries, you often cry too—not a frustrated angry cry but a sad, empathetic one.
As the last first of month 5, you attended your very first baseball game two days before your six-month birthday. It was our first family game of the season—and the first one at the Nationals’ new stadium (which is quite fantastic, by the way). You were captivated by all of the people and kept smiling at the ladies sitting above us. The final score was 5-3, although we left at 3-3, with Nationals making a two-run home run at the bottom of the ninth inning to win the game. It would have been great to see, but all things considered, the fact that we lasted though the beginning of the eight inning with a baby and a four-year-old is nothing to sneeze at.
So just like the winning score of five for the Nationals, 5 has been an amazing month for us. I am sure the next month will bring lots of excitement as well, but I think 5 will be tough to beat. Happy 6 months, my love.
Love,
Mom
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Five Months
Dear Cole,
Today you turned five months. I can’t believe you are already this big. Almost half a year. Sometimes I look at you and still can’t believe that you are our baby. OUR baby. At the same time, I feel like you have been part of our life for a very long time. I can not imagine our family without you—well, I could not imagine our family without since the moment you were born.
You are, as far as I am concerned, the easiest baby on the face of the planet. When people ask me how you are, I always say “great” or “wonderful” or “growing fast.” Sometimes I say “he is such an easy baby,” and then I often regret saying it. One—because I am afraid to jinx it. And two—I don’t want people to hate me for being so lucky. I know I would if I were on the other side of it.
Let’s start with sleep. Here is how you go to sleep at night. After dinner, between 7:30 and 8, I nurse you. Then Daddy or I give you a bottle (since I don’t have enough milk for you, which is very frustrating for me, but after all, this space is not about me; it is about you, so I will stop complaining). Then we burp you and change your diaper. Then we take you to the bedroom. We give you kisses. And then comes the interesting part. Are you ready for it? Here it comes. We lay you down in the bassinet, leave the room and THEN YOU FALL ASLEEP. I kid you not. Asleep. On your own. No rocking, no singing, no shooshing, no bouncing, no crying it out. Nothing. Sometimes you talk for a minute, sometimes you laugh. But within a few minutes you fall asleep.
Another thing about sleep is equally amazing. You have been sleeping through the night since you were 8 weeks old. When I mention this to others, they say, “So he only wakes up to eat that then goes back to sleep at night?” And I respond, “No, he is actually sleeping the entire night, as in from 8:30 until 7:30, without waking up at all.” Funny thing is, we tried a few sleep tricks on you to help you sleep longer (such as dream feeds, which worked wonders for your brother)—before you started sleeping through the night. But none of them work. So we backed off, thinking you were not ready. And that’s when you decided to start sleeping all night long.
As a caveat, I should admit that your daytime sleep has not been as impressive. Once in a while, you take a two- or even three-hour nap, but most of the time your daytime naps don’t last more than an hour. But who cares? You are sleeping all night long!
You are a wonderfully smiley baby. Any time you make eye contact with someone, you smile your adorable toothless grin. And it is not just your mouth—your entire face smiles: your eyes twinkle, your fat cheeks get dimples, your eyebrows stretch out. It is such a heartwarming sight. You don’t seem to have any stranger anxiety yet as you smile as everyone.
You seem to enjoy developing your social skills more than your motor ones. You can sit up fairly well on your own, but you still can’t roll over or lay happily on your tummy for more than a couple of minutes. I am convinced that it’s not because you can’t but because you are not interested. Being able to sit up, coupled with your recent discovery of your feet, which you love to grab and chew on when you are on your back, provides you with enough interesting perspectives on the outside world that you don’t need to bother with rolling.
You are still a summer storm, as your daddy called you—when something displeases you, you let us know immediately and with intensity. You can not be distracted and won’t calm down until your displeasure is resolved—and then you are suddenly peaceful and happy as if nothing ever happened. However, there are only two things that upset you: 1) hunger (and we usually do a preemptive strike—aka feed you—before you get upset about that) and 2) your car seat (turning on static on the radio often solves this problem; and your overall dislike of the car seat seem to be steadily improving with time).
There is one thing that works like magic when you are upset: singing. You respond immediately when we sing to you. “ABCs,” Russian “Baju Bajushku Baju” and “You Are My Sunshine” are your favorites.
My heart is so absolutely filled with love for you, and I can not get enough of holding you and kissing you. You truly are my sunshine.
Love,
Mom
Today you turned five months. I can’t believe you are already this big. Almost half a year. Sometimes I look at you and still can’t believe that you are our baby. OUR baby. At the same time, I feel like you have been part of our life for a very long time. I can not imagine our family without you—well, I could not imagine our family without since the moment you were born.
You are, as far as I am concerned, the easiest baby on the face of the planet. When people ask me how you are, I always say “great” or “wonderful” or “growing fast.” Sometimes I say “he is such an easy baby,” and then I often regret saying it. One—because I am afraid to jinx it. And two—I don’t want people to hate me for being so lucky. I know I would if I were on the other side of it.
Let’s start with sleep. Here is how you go to sleep at night. After dinner, between 7:30 and 8, I nurse you. Then Daddy or I give you a bottle (since I don’t have enough milk for you, which is very frustrating for me, but after all, this space is not about me; it is about you, so I will stop complaining). Then we burp you and change your diaper. Then we take you to the bedroom. We give you kisses. And then comes the interesting part. Are you ready for it? Here it comes. We lay you down in the bassinet, leave the room and THEN YOU FALL ASLEEP. I kid you not. Asleep. On your own. No rocking, no singing, no shooshing, no bouncing, no crying it out. Nothing. Sometimes you talk for a minute, sometimes you laugh. But within a few minutes you fall asleep.
Another thing about sleep is equally amazing. You have been sleeping through the night since you were 8 weeks old. When I mention this to others, they say, “So he only wakes up to eat that then goes back to sleep at night?” And I respond, “No, he is actually sleeping the entire night, as in from 8:30 until 7:30, without waking up at all.” Funny thing is, we tried a few sleep tricks on you to help you sleep longer (such as dream feeds, which worked wonders for your brother)—before you started sleeping through the night. But none of them work. So we backed off, thinking you were not ready. And that’s when you decided to start sleeping all night long.
As a caveat, I should admit that your daytime sleep has not been as impressive. Once in a while, you take a two- or even three-hour nap, but most of the time your daytime naps don’t last more than an hour. But who cares? You are sleeping all night long!
You are a wonderfully smiley baby. Any time you make eye contact with someone, you smile your adorable toothless grin. And it is not just your mouth—your entire face smiles: your eyes twinkle, your fat cheeks get dimples, your eyebrows stretch out. It is such a heartwarming sight. You don’t seem to have any stranger anxiety yet as you smile as everyone.You seem to enjoy developing your social skills more than your motor ones. You can sit up fairly well on your own, but you still can’t roll over or lay happily on your tummy for more than a couple of minutes. I am convinced that it’s not because you can’t but because you are not interested. Being able to sit up, coupled with your recent discovery of your feet, which you love to grab and chew on when you are on your back, provides you with enough interesting perspectives on the outside world that you don’t need to bother with rolling.
You are still a summer storm, as your daddy called you—when something displeases you, you let us know immediately and with intensity. You can not be distracted and won’t calm down until your displeasure is resolved—and then you are suddenly peaceful and happy as if nothing ever happened. However, there are only two things that upset you: 1) hunger (and we usually do a preemptive strike—aka feed you—before you get upset about that) and 2) your car seat (turning on static on the radio often solves this problem; and your overall dislike of the car seat seem to be steadily improving with time).There is one thing that works like magic when you are upset: singing. You respond immediately when we sing to you. “ABCs,” Russian “Baju Bajushku Baju” and “You Are My Sunshine” are your favorites.
My heart is so absolutely filled with love for you, and I can not get enough of holding you and kissing you. You truly are my sunshine.
Love,
Mom
Monday, March 10, 2008
Birth Story: Mom's POV
Dear Cole,
You turned four months last week, and I am amazed by how fast the time has flown. On one hand, you have changed so much in a few short months. On the other hand, it seems like you have been part of our family for a very long time, much longer than just four months. Before any more time passes, I wanted to write down your birth story from my point of view—probably much more for my benefit than yours. My memory is so notoriously poor, and while I know I will never forget the day you were born, I may forget some details, and I really don’t want to. I want those memories to remain fresh since it was such an amazing day.
At some point during my third trimester, I asked one of the midwives about when I should head to the hospital when labor begins. She said to give them a call when contractions became regular. “You’ve been through this before,” she remarked, “so you remember what real contractions feel like.” I nodded because I thought I did.
On Friday, October 26, I had stomach cramps most of the day, nasty gas cramps. Constipation has been a major problem for me throughout this pregnancy, so having gas cramps was nothing new. I did note to myself that they were stronger and more uncomfortable than usual. But I went on doing things that I needed to do
These cramps woke me up around 1 a.m. I was starting to get a back ache, too. At 4:30, I woke up again. As I tossed and turned, trying to get back to sleep, I kept glancing at my clock radio and soon realized that these “gas cramps” had a certain pattern to them. It was then that it occurred to me that perhaps these were not gas cramps after all but real contractions. I tried timing the duration of them, but that was not easy to do with the digital clock. I finally got up and went downstairs, turning on my computer and feverishly trying to finish up some last-minute work. I tracked my contractions on my computer, too.
4:49 – 30 sec
4:55 – 60 sec.
5:02 – 60 sec.
5:09 – 45 sec.
5:15 – 60 sec.
At 5:30, I woke up your dad and called the hospital. The contractions were uncomfortable, but I could still talk through them. The doctor on call told me to take a shower and call back when the contractions got to be 5 minutes apart. Both daddy and I took showers and started getting ready. At that point, Babushka and Seriozha got up to find out why we were up so early on a Saturday. I have to tell you, having company when you are dealing with contractions is not a helpful thing. They kept talking, perhaps trying to take my mind off, but I could not maintain the conversation. Both Babushka and Seriozha would have the look of fear come across their faces every time I had to stop talking and breathe through the pain. The contractions started spacing out—my body was not liking all of this attention. So I went to the bedroom and lied down. The contractions were not getting much closer, but they were getting stronger and longer. I was ready.
At 7 a.m., we were on our way to the hospital. My back was killing me, and I remarked to daddy that I didn’t remember having this much pain with Jon. At 7:40, Margie, the midwife, checked me and happily announced, “You are at 7 cm!” No wonder the pain was so much stronger—I got epidural when I was 4 cm with Jon. “I need epidural now,” I said (screamed?). Another midwife, Patrice, piped in, “You are so close, you can do it without the drugs.” “I know I can,” I said (snapped back?), “but I don’t want to.” They were happy to oblige, but they warned me that if my water broke or if I dilated much further, it would be too late for the epidural. That sent me into a bit of a panic mode: having to give birth without drugs was one of my biggest fears about labor this time around. It felt like it took forever for the anesthesiologist to show up, and the pain was intense. Patrice showed daddy how to apply pressure to my back to help with back labor. L&D nurse, Kate, was amazing too—what a wonderful, calming influence. While we were waiting for the anesthesiologist, I got hooked up to antibiotics for group B strep, a very common infections that’s harmless to the mother but dangerous to the baby. Margie mentioned she was glad I was asking for epidural because they needed to stall my labor—I needed at least four hours (or ideally eight) of antibiotics before delivery.
Finally, around 9 a.m., anesthesiologist showed up, and epidural brought sweet relief.
At 11:20, Margie checked me. “We better set up for delivery now.” It was still not quite four hours for antibiotics, but it was close. She broke my bag of water. I thought about how odd it was that with Jon, having my water break was the first sign of labor, but with you, the water never broke, even though I was fully dilated and effaced.
I pushed once. “I can see his head,” your daddy said. “Whoa, hold on, stop pushing,” Margie said. “Dad, do you want to deliver your son?” Your daddy looked stunned and a little uncomfortable. “I won’t be offended if you don’t want to do it,” I said. But he hesitated only for a moment, and then rushed to the bathroom to wash his hands.
A minute later I pushed again. And the most amazing thing happened. My husband, the love of my life, with his own hands pulled out our son, the newest love of my life, from my body and placed him on my belly. It was 11:38 a.m.
I can not find words right now (doubt if I ever will) to describe what a miraculous moment it was. I don’t remember much after that. You are here. You are perfect. You are ours. You are my miracle.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
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