January 26, 2012
Raphael: Artist, Scientist, Dreamer
I know … two posts in one week, what’s going on? Well there were a few fun things this week and I couldn’t resist sharing.
First, Raphael had his first art project at daycare! Perhaps the term “art” is taking some liberties, but here is Raphael gettin’ down with some fingerpaint.
Artist at work
The key is really connecting with your materials
Right now, I feel his style is rather reminiscent of Mark Rothko, but perhaps with a looser brushstroke:
Mark Rothko, 1958: Four Darks in Red
Raphael Strudwick, 2012: Four Lights in Green
Also, just yesterday, Raphael participated in his very first Psychology experiment! In the experiment, he sat on my lap and looked at different cartoons on a very large computer screen. The researcher was investigating how well he understood certain types of social categories (he doesn’t), by measuring how long he looks at different parts of the screen. The idea is that if he understands a certain rule or concept, he will tend to be surprised when that rule is violated (e.g. hey, why is one of the smurf people doing a muppet thing??). You can tell when a baby is surprised because they will tend to look at the surprising thing longer to try to figure out what is happening. Here is Raphael doing the experiment:
Raphael doing the experiment
I’m not sure how he did, but I had to keep my eyes closed the entire time so I wouldn’t inadvertently cue him to the social rule violations. For his participation, he earned $5.00 (his first income!) and a t-shirt:
Raphael with the $5 he earned as a research volunteer
Raphael's new "Child Scientist" t-shirt (veritas)
Yay, Raphael!
Finally, after we came home from the Psychology department, Raphael achieved mobility by systematically rotating his body. It was the only way he could get to the other side of the bed to play his favorite iPad game, “Tap Tap Baby”:
January 23, 2012
World, meet Raphael
Raphael has started really discovering the world recently, kind of like all that time spent staring at things and crying has coalesced into a sudden epiphany about the nature of reality and the universe. Now the world is a place to be explored, and as he tips over backward trying to reach for something hanging on the wall behind the changing table, I can tell that his relatively limited mobility is starting to become frustrating for him. He is constantly wriggling and kicking and trying to interact with everything, which is so much fun to watch. He is becoming a little person, with his own unique personality, preferences, and ideas about the world!
Six months old, with one tooth
This enthusiasm was very apparent at his six month pediatrician visit, which made it much more satisfying than our last appointment. At Raphael’s four month visit, the pediatrician methodically asked me about some milestones and then tried to get Raphael to demonstrate others. At the time, he was able to hold his head steady while being pulled up to a sitting position by his hands… but refused to do it for the pediatrician. Every time she touched his little hands and pulled up, he would give his body the command to go limp. And all of my protesting that yes HE CAN do that was met with a small, agreeable smile that I’m sure the pediatrician gives to any mother who claims their child can do things that they really can’t.
This appointment, however, he was making up for it. As we waited for the pediatrician to come into the room, I set him up in the tripod sitting position (hands between his legs holding himself up) and gave him a rattle to teethe on. I was stacking the deck a little bit, but I figured we could at least start strong. When she walked into the room, he looked up at her, cooed loudly, squealed, straightened and then started banging his rattle on the table. A few seconds later when I laid him down, he promptly rolled over onto his front, lifted high up on his arms, and looked back at the pediatrician in response to her voice.
“I can see he’s hitting his milestones!” she said. Go, Raphael! Especially for going through the whole list without having to be asked! For the rest of his appointment I made him lay on his back… and he spent the entire time kicking his chubby little legs, swinging his arms, twisting his body, and arching his back to see behind him (he recently discovered there is a whole other part of the world above and behind his head).
Even his (five) vaccines were not enough to dampen his energy at being in such a shiny and colorful place. All it took was a rattle in his face and some funny animal sounds for him to forget all about the fact that he’d just been jabbed with needles multiple times. You’d almost forget that just a few short months ago he was a screaming, crying mess.
So our little guy is blossoming as each day goes by. He’s learned the difference between people he does know and people he doesn’t really know (some stranger anxiety when he’s tired) and for awhile decided that this particular toy was terrifying:
Scary mouse
Luckily, we were able to nip that one in the bud with some extinction training (don’t ask).
As a heads up, my posts might be short for a little while, as I am in the final stretch of finishing my Ph.D. dissertation… but at least there is a lot of baby to enjoy! (see videos below)
And finally, a youtube video a friend of mine shared with me recently that I’ve been watching every few days because I find it so funny:
December 7, 2011
Red Stuck Face
Raphael is going to be five months old tomorrow! Soon he’ll be toddling!
Raphael shortly before toppling over
I’ve been really busy over the last few weeks working on a grant application and am now happy to say it is done and submitted. Raphael had his first Thanksgiving, which we spent at the home of a friend. Raphael and I also caught our first daycare cold… and our second daycare cold… and are now working on a stubborn diaper rash (well, Tim and I are working on it, Raphael has it). Other than that though, things have been pretty good. On to the topic of this post!
The other day I was watching television while feeding Raphael, when something funny happened on the program I was watching. I laughed suddenly and a few seconds later realized Raphael wasn’t eating anymore. I looked down and saw a face that looked a little like this:
A few seconds after Red Stuck Face
Tim and I call this “the red stuck face” because his face goes bright red, his eyes squeeze shut, his mouth opens, and then there is total, complete stillness for a few seconds, before he lets loose an eardrum-rupturing wail of displeasure. We first saw Red Stuck Face when he had a round of vaccines at one month old. I thought, at the time, that Red Stuck Face must be reserved for only the most inexpressibly horrible moments, when Raphael is so overwhelmed by agony that his poor infant face muscles are briefly frozen in place with the force of his pain and suffering. Given that we only saw Red Stuck Face a handful of times over the first three months of his life, this may have been an accurate assessment. Whenever I see Red Stuck Face, I can’t help but feel some of his pain. The POOR BABY, I think, and hold him close, raining kisses all over his little face and head.
Over the last month however, although Raphael has generally been happy and good natured, we’ve been encountering Red Stuck Face more and more frequently. A few days ago, Red Stuck Face made an appearance when I laid him down in his crib for a nap. As if being put in his crib and forced to lie there and (perhaps) get a little bit of sleep was in some way similar to being stabbed with needles… At this point, I got the distinct feeling that Red Stuck Face was being used to manipulate me.
Let’s back up a little.
When we first brought Raphael home, I was a firm believer in not leaving one’s baby to “cry it out”. It seemed unjustifiably cruel… prioritizing one’s own comfort over one’s baby, ignoring true suffering, etc. I read about so called “attachment parenting”, based on the idea that being emotionally available to your child is critically important for forming secure bonds. One of the main rules of attachment parenting is that a crying baby is a suffering baby and the only way your baby will really trust you is if you respond to his/her cries every time. While a baby left to cry will eventually stop, its only because the baby has “given up” and over the long term you risk permanent damage to your baby’s fragile, developing psyche.
On the surface, I think this view is nice, and for many babies is a perfectly reasonable way to parent… but Raphael taught me (the hard way) that responding to your baby’s every cry isn’t always practical or compatible with maintaining sanity. I did some research and found that there is very little evidence that attachment parenting makes any difference in psychological outcomes, when compared to regular run-of-the-mill parenting practices. What does make a difference is the health and stress level of the parents and good sleep habits for baby. So, over the first few months, I gave up on attachment parenting and resolved to do my best, where my best sometimes means leaving him for 5-10 minutes to fuss and whimper so I can have lunch.
Fast forward to the present.
So now that Raphael is almost five months old, I find Red Stuck Face is being used in completely unreasonable situations, I suspect, because it pulls at my heart strings and gets an immediate reaction out of me. Raphael has been increasingly reluctant to take naps, despite the fact that he turns into an adrenaline-fueled, exhausted he-demon by the end of the evening, and was now clearly ready to avoid them by any means necessary. That was the point at which I decided, enough is enough, I am turning to the dark side, the thing I once thought I would never do — for the sake of his sleep, which lots of studies show *DOES* matter, weighed against the visceral but scientifically unsupported idea that crying too much will psychologically scar my child — I was going to let him CRY IT OUT.
On Monday, after a fairly good morning and early afternoon, I looked at the time and went upstairs to put him down for a nap. I would wait ONE HOUR. If he wasn’t asleep by the end of it, I’d go up and bring him back downstairs and try again another time. But I would not break. Even if he screamed like the roof was falling down, I was going to leave him in his crib (after glancing in to to make sure the roof wasn’t falling down) for the entire hour. It was like something out of a psychological thriller. There was Raphael, laying in his crib screaming his head off, and me, cowering at the bottom of the stairs, muscles knotted, sweating, watching the minutes pass by until I could end this awful experiment. Then at 55 minutes, there was silence. I crept upstairs and put my ear to the door and heard his light snores. HE WAS ASLEEP.
About 40 minutes later he woke up, refreshed and cheerful… almost too cheerful considering the suffering that I had just gone through. The rest of the evening he was in an irrepressibly good mood. All this time, I’ve been avoiding letting him Cry It Out when it may have been exactly what was needed. And to think, the final straw was seeing Red Stuck Face one too many times.
I will try to post before Christmas, but realistically, its possible that I won’t. If not, Merry Christmas everyone!
Recent pictures (I will continue to add to this album until he hits six months):
And seven new videos!
Raphael after a good day out:
Having fun on his exersaucer:
and
Drooling onto his bumbo chair:
After a particularly difficult meal (he’s been very distracted lately):
My efforts to document his compulsive rolling (see my last post from mid-November):
Finally, creepy baby noises in the dark:
November 16, 2011
First day of school
View from nearby path
Its late fall around here, Raphael is almost 19 weeks old… and currently making a screechy screamy noise in the background, like the sound I imagine a lizard makes when it attacks another lizard (purely speculative).
The reason he is squealing is because he has rolled, again, from his back to his front and is protesting being on his tummy. I’ve rolled him back over every time it has happened, but since he used to know how to roll from his front to his back (has he forgotten?) I don’t know why he doesn’t just roll himself.
Anyway, Tuesday of last week was the first day of school for Raphael… and by school I mean daycare.
Raphael playing on exersaucer
We had just returned from the UK on Sunday (Congratulations Simon and Emma on getting hitched!) and were all a bit jetlagged. This was probably good as Raphael spent his first day crying up a storm of exhaustion, and as far as his carers are concerned the days that followed were all a pleasant surprise. He seems to be doing well though, and this is what he had to say about his first day:
In some ways, it was the first day of my return to graduate school as well, as I am now on a “regular” working schedule. I was worried Rafa would start getting sick as soon as he started daycare, but so far he seems to be as healthy as ever. Tim and I, on the other hand, promptly caught colds — presumably from daycare-related bugs.
I was feeling a bit guilty about taking Raphael to daycare so soon, even though he is four months old and its only two days a week, but now I am starting to think he should start going more often for his own good. You see, I think the daycare does a better job than we do. At home today he practiced: crying, eating, pooping, not napping, drooling , watching television, flailing arms while lying on belly, and not supporting himself when placed in an exersaucer. According to reports from daycare though, yesterday he: “expressed initiative”, “expressed emotion”, “explored objects”, and “distinguished self from others”. His caregiver writes:
“Today, Raphael and I played together. I stuck my tongue out at him. Raphael smiled and his tongue showed. I curled my tongue and blew a soft puff of air. Raphael wiggled and cooed.”
I have concluded that he is perhaps better off at daycare than he is at home with me. (BTW, the child I just rolled onto his back a few minutes ago is once again making lizard noises as he drowns himself in a puddle of drool, on his belly) As I was saying, at daycare they sing songs, hold him all the time, introduce him to other babies, and raise his infantile self-esteem by making things like drooling sound like accomplishments (“expressed himself orally”). (lizard sound in background again…) At home today, I dragged his green baby chair over by the couch so he could see the television better without having to crane his neck. Given that the American Pediatric Association recommends no television before two years of age, I’d say that this was not my finest moment (lizard sound is back, must pause to rotate child) and not a good sign of parenting to come. (lizard sound… seriously, is this a kid a glutton for pain?)
As part of my return to the world of adult things, I went back to see my diabetes doctor (endocrinologist) for the first time in a year today as I went to a special pregnancy diabetes doctor while I was pregnant and in the postpartum period. Now only *I* would be excited about a medical appointment… but she really is a fantastic physician, also diabetic, and has some superhero like qualities (e.g. she is in her fifties and in such good physical condition that she reminds me of Madonna). Anyway, I was eager to see her to talk about the whole pregnant-with-diabetes ridiculousness to get her thoughts on how it all went down. I told her about my sudden drop in insulin resistance and crazy hypoglycemia the week before Raphael was born and how they told me everything looked fine, but then the baby popped out 6 days later. Part of me thought she’d say the same thing my OB said, “You never know with these things etc etc.” (i.e. the nonanswer), but she actually took it rather seriously. I’ve noticed doctors sometimes use fancy words for simple concepts, and I’m not sure if its because they don’t realize they are doing it or if its because they are trying to *technically* say something but in a special code you won’t understand so you don’t have to worry as much. Anyway, she said something like, “They really should have taken that more seriously, as a drop in insulin resistance like that is a big red flag. I mean for you it turned out your body was ready to have the baby, but you can never take the risk of intrauterine demise too seriously.” Having a rather large medical vocabulary due to my area of study, my physician heavy family, and my own ..ahem… interest in health matters (Its not technically hypochondriasis unless you believe you have something despite medical reassurance. I am very reassured by medical reassurance), I tune in as soon as a physician starts dropping the medical-ese as that’s usually the interesting part. So, that whole crazy night of hypoglycemia could have meant (1) that the baby was coming or, (2) that THE BABY WAS DYING. Why was I not rushed to hospital? They sent me to the emergency department when I complained about allergies, but not for risk of intrauterine demise? Next pregnancy I am getting an at-home fetal monitor like what Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise have.
On that note, here are some recent pictures of Raphael taken over the last month:
And some recent videos! First, Raphael has finally discovered both his left and right hands:
Hands are useful for shoving things in your mouth:
Here he is playing in a borrowed jumper while we were in the UK:
And, from today, rolling onto his tummy… and then complaining about it:
October 25, 2011
Who is this baby and what has he done with our son?
Raphael at 15 weeks
A couple of days ago, I took Raphael to the pediatrician to check him over, as we are flying to the UK on Friday and wanted to be sure he was cleared for take-off. I explained to the pediatrician that I thought something was wrong with him (ear infection? teething? stomach problem?) as he cries all the time. She asked me the following questions:
“Does he eat well?” Well, yes.
“Does he sleep well?” I suppose so, yes.
“Does he have a certain time of day he tends to cry more?” Hmm, well late afternoon and evening mostly.
These were the *wrong* answers to give to elicit doctorly concern, as she then dismissed Raphael’s incorrigibility as “normal for his age”. I explained to her that his crying was supposed to have peaked 3-8 weeks ago according to the developmental timelines. She said not to worry. This made me very worried… worried that there is nothing wrong (i.e. FIXABLE) with our son and that this is, in fact, just him. After leaving the pediatrician’s office, I texted Tim the verdict: no ear infection, healthy baby. Tim texted back: “Oh goodie. So this is normal crying then?”
Then suddenly yesterday, he cries for only 45 minutes over the course of the entire day. This morning, he awakes bright and early, full of smiles and continues to not cry. When I put him in his crib for his afternoon nap, he decides he doesn’t feel like sleeping. This invariably has meant that (instead) he will scream for the next 20 minutes or until I pick him back up again. Today, he spent 20 minutes cooing and making little happy sounds to pass the time. This is not my son.
The day continued, virtually cryless. Every time he did fuss, it was because he was hungry. By the evening I was starting to feel hope… had we moved onto a new, calmer, quieter Raphael? Finally, in the 11th hour (well the 7th hour as he goes to bed at 8):
Raphael expresses himself
This continued for about 40 minutes.
Still, the last two days make me wonder if someone has taken Raphael and replaced him with another, very similar looking baby? Maybe he just needed to know he didn’t have an ear infection. Alternatively, Raphael may have taken the message in this video to heart (we’ve played it for him several times):
Finally, before we head off to the UK, here are some recent videos for your viewing pleasure…
Raphael shaking a rattle:
Raphael and Tim conversing:
Raphael and I discuss this new attitude of his:
Finally, for the grandparents, Raphael doing almost nothing for 2.5 minutes:
October 17, 2011
Infant development: Actual vs. adjusted ages
Raphael is now 14 weeks old, almost 10 weeks adjusted. Why does he have two ages? One of the joys of having had a preemie is that (for the first few several months anyway) all of his developmental milestones are tracked based on both his actual age and the number of weeks since he was *supposed* to arrive. The reason is that some milestones are just a matter of time and brain development, which would have continued in the womb had he not been born early… in these cases his adjusted age is more appropriate. Other milestones are better measured by how long he’s had to practice a skill in the real world… in which case its more about his actual age.
The problem with this whole adjusted-vs-actual age business is that NO ONE TELLS YOU which category a particular developmental milestone/event/catastrophe falls under. Not smiling by six weeks? Should that be adjusted or actual? Crying peaks around six weeks? Is that adjusted or actual? Breaks his parents around eight weeks? ADJUSTED OR ACTUAL? Anyway, little Rafa is finally smiling in a way that I consider acceptable:
Some video examples of his developing smiles:
He also demonstrates superb head control:
Cooing in response to social interaction:
Just this week he has begun to learn to reach for and grasp objects:
And developed a new sensitivity to certain sounds and stimuli:
So, all in all, he is blossoming into a wonderful, developmentally normal (adjusted for prematurity) baby.
The problem, folks, is the crying. According to the books, infant crying peaks at 6 weeks or so and then decreases from there so that by 3-4 months (I have never hated ranges more than I do now) you have a happy, minimally screaming baby. So, Raphael is supposed to start crying less soon. Very soon. As in eight weeks ago actual, four weeks ago adjusted.
Seriously though, the crying needs to stop. Last week Tim was in Dallas for three days and it was like trench warfare here. Both grandmothers had come and gone, so it was just me and the baby. By the end of the day, Raphael would scream like he was being tortured to death and I would cower somewhere nearby trying to figure out what to do next, while my sanity (clearly a finite resource) was drained from me with each piercing wail. Nothing seemed to work for more than a few minutes. His diaper was changed and he was never hungry for more than the time it took for me to run to the kitchen and grab a bib. He’d been rocked, held, walked, and driven… had tummy time, mat time, chair time, propped-up-with-a-pillow-to-look-at-the-room-from-a-new-angle time, you name it. Finally, I realized it was all futile, as I didn’t have the resources to keep him entertained:
Tim ended up returning from Dallas before my mind was completely gone, although by that point I was a mess of exhaustion and frayed nerves. I was very much relieved, despite bedtime routines like the one below, to finally have someone else to share the crazy with. I have fresh respect for single parents.
I’m giving Raphael until 18 weeks actual (14 weeks adjusted) to settle down and start showing the bubbly and pleasant baby personality I’m expecting based on other people’s youtube videos. After that, we are having a serious talk about his respect for developmental trajectories.
From now on, expect a lot of videos. Its the least we can do for our families who are far too far away!
September 18, 2011
46 weeks pregnant? Well, no.
So I know what you’re thinking… Either I am currently 46 weeks pregnant, or little Rafa J.S. has arrived. If you know Tim and I, you probably got the memo. If not (who are you?), WE HAVE A BABY.
Baby Raphael at 2 months
In fact, he arrived a bit earlier than anticipated: July 8th, when I was 35 weeks and 3 days pregnant. Here’s a play-by-play:
July 1ish – My blood sugar suddenly comes crashing down, prompting three hours of hypoglycemia that I don’t care to experience again. Sudden loss of insulin resistance suggests that the placenta has dropped hormone output.
July 5 – OB concludes that placenta looks normal. No indications of preterm labor. Everything looking good. I am seized by a deep and anxious feeling that this baby could come out ANY MINUTE, despite this medical reassurance.
July 6 – My last pedicure with Meredith. I try to pick a color that will not look tacky in a delivery room.
July 8 -
4am – I get out of bed to go to the bathroom. My water breaks. Despite my impression from movies/tv, water breaking is not a discrete event. This is good as at first I think that I peed myself. Water breakage events #2, #3, #4 over the next few minutes makes it clear that this is not the case. I wake Tim up. We go to the hospital.
5am – We arrive at the hospital. I am in good spirits, as water breaking is a fairly unequivocal sign I am going to have a baby but I am not yet experiencing contractions. I can see the building on campus that houses my department, rising like a … well, building… against the backdrop of the hills. I text some people to let them know that I am at the hospital and can see my department.
7am – Contractions start getting painful. I text some people to tell them I am having contractions.
8:30am – Am in incredible pain and only 1cm dilated. Text some friends between contractions to say that I am adopting any subsequent children. Pain is so exquisite that I can’t do any breathing exercises during contractions, as it hurts too much to think of anything else. Between contractions, I text someone to say that breathing exercises are pointless. During contractions, consciousness contracts to a pinpoint of awareness and my entire existence is pain.
9am – Between contractions, I inform the nurse I would like my epidural now please.
9:30am – Am amazed at medical science, as I have transitioned from searing agony to comfort due to the wonderfulness of the epidural. Text some people to say that I have had the epidural, and would recommend the procedure without reservation.
9:30am – 2:30pm – Zen-like calm. Feeling of equanimity and oneness with the universe. Loving feeling extends to all creatures great and small. Contemplating the nature of existence. Send out texts to inform a few people about my Yoda type feelings. Also respond to a few emails: “I am in labor, but the answer to your question is…”
2:30pm – Nurse tells me I am 9cm dilated and the time to push is nigh. Send text to let a few people know that I am 9cm dilated and that the time to push is nigh.
2:45pm – Epidural turned way down, pushing begins, pain retuns. Douchebag anesthesiologist tries to make small talk with me about my research while I am pushing. I tell him that I will answer his questions after I have pushed out this baby, if he doesn’t mind. Pushing is very hard, like an intense strength training workout. I am kind of a wuss, and confess to only giving 90% as am scared that my eyeballs will explode if I push too hard.
3:00pmish – Head appears despite my perceived (lack of) effort. About 50 people suddenly enter the room as we are nearing the final minutes.
3:14pm - Baby comes out. Am suddenly a mother. Tim is now a father. Baby weighs 7 pounds, 3 ounces despite being born 4 1/2 WEEKS EARLY. Have concluded I am some sort of superhero. Glance in the mirror shows me that I have burst a few blood vessels in my face from the intensity of my pushing; am secretly glad I didn’t push harder as I may have lost my eyeballs.
Just born
Despite the excitement of delivery, I can now say that I found the experience LESS traumatic than pregnancy. Since Rafa was a preemie, he spent some time in the neonatal intensive care unit those first two weeks until his respiratory control matured.
We were finally able to bring him home when he was about two weeks old. Despite our best efforts, we were totally unprepared for the challenges of having a child and thus our first week home was a complete clusterfudge. We have since figured things out a little, and thusfar parenthood appears to be one part care/nourishment and four parts struggling to divert your offspring (in all senses of the word). Desperation, thy name is Fisher Price.
I would be lying, however, if I said that Raphael was not a joy, a miracle, and a gift from God. His prematurity has posed a few challenges, but for the most part he is doing well and at 10 weeks is a strong, healthy, and happy baby. And by happy, I mean he cries constantly. Oh well.
To see pictures of our little bundle of joy/tears:
And so, we come at last to the beginning of our journey! We will let you know how it goes, although (in all likelihood) a little later than intended.
June 23, 2011
33 weeks and counting DOWN
Tim and I finished moving and are nearly done setting up our new home (still a mess, but we’re getting there):
We had the baby shower a couple of weeks ago… there was a great turn-out and we got lots of great baby stuff. Pictures of the baby shower are here (I was 30 weeks). Tim finished assembling furniture for the nursery last night and I have half packed my going-to-the-hospital bag.
I am now 33 weeks pregnant… in less than four weeks, the baby will be fully developed by medical standards and then its just WAITING for biology to kick in and decide its time. Since we had decided to call the baby Raphael James, this inevitably turned into Raffa J., which kind of sounded like Jaffa Cakes… which is now what we are informally calling the baby. We’ll stick with JC for short. Its better than Princess Jasmine, under the circumstances.
I now have weekly OB appointments in order to monitor the baby and check his growth. Given that I have Type 1 diabetes, one of the major complications in the third trimester is either low birth weight or high birth weight. Sounds contradictory, but essentially some serious complications associated with diabetes cause low birth weight… if you avoid those, the baby now has the opportunity to grow unusually large off of your abnormally high sugar levels… hence high birth weight. I was hoping to avoid both… and as of my last post we were doing well, but it looks like JC is measuring large for his gestational age in terms of both weight (69th percentile) and abdominal circumference (95th percentile!). This was very discouraging to learn — I got a bit emotional when I found out, initially — but I am told that sometimes you can have very good control and still end up with a large baby, and there is very little you can do about it. So, JC is 5.5 pounds at 33 weeks and growing. Hello, c-section (possibly).
On the positive side (medically speaking), he is very active and otherwise appears to be quite robust/healthy. I’ve heard that a first-time mother often thinks her in-utero-baby is very active because she has nothing to compare it to, but a nurse confirmed today that JC definitely moves a lot. This is after she spent 10 minutes chasing him around my stomach trying to get the fetal heart monitor where it could pick up a signal. They then monitored me for 20 minutes. There should be at least two movements during that time… I stopped counting after about 20 (we still had 18 minutes to go, after all). I think the nurse’s comment after looking at the computer was “You’re gonna have a handful.” and later “First child and last, maybe, eh? I’m just kidding!” Somehow, the “I’m just kidding” at the end wasn’t very comforting. So TECHNICALLY very positive — an active baby is a healthy baby! — but then I think of Tim’s activity level at age 30+, and the number of times he experienced head trauma before the age of 5, and I feel fear.
Anyway, you’ll be wanting a belly picture of some sort. I don’t fit into my belly picture outfit anymore, so you get a different outfit this time. As you can see, I am now “defying the laws of physics” pregnant, aka “small children stop and stare” pregnant, aka “OMG WHEN WILL IT END?” pregnant. This would have been easier to convey if Tim hadn’t forced me to smile.
There is no longer room in my abdominal space to do any of the following: breathe, bend, eat, lift legs for stair climbing, accomodate essential organs (WHERE DID THEY ALL GO?), or much else really. It’s all baby!
In related news, I recently got myself genotyped by a company that does that sort of thing, and learned some interesting things that will be relevant for little Jaffa. (That is, I now know what versions of several dozen different genes I possess.) The results were remarkably accurate in some respects… they were able to tell for example, that 75% of my genetic material was derived from Europe and 25% from Asia. They also traced my maternal line (mother’s mother’s mother’s mother… and so on) to Southeast Asia, and the indigenous populations of what are now Vietnam, Thailand, and a region of southern China (predating the Han Chinese who currently occupy that region). Go genes! In terms of traits, based on known single nucleotide polymorphisms that I carry (lots of unknown obviously), there is a 56% chance Jaffa will have brown eyes, a 5% chance he will have blue eyes, and a rest of the % chance he will have GREEN eyes. Green! (This is assuming Tim gives Jaffa a copy of his blue-y eye genes.) Regardless of Tim’s genetic make-up, Jaffa will also DEFINITELY have two different genes that confer an IQ advantage if he is breast-fed. I carry two copies of both of these genes (that is, I am homozygous for both), and the gene is completely dominant (its a gene for metabolizing a fatty acid thats involved in early neurodevelopment, and only found in breast milk), so he only needs one copy to get the IQ boost. The boost is something like 5 points for each gene (although you almost certainly can’t just add the two together). This is a lot of pressure.
Anyway, we’ll keep you posted. I hope to post BEFORE the baby is born, but at this point, who knows? The next time you hear from us two may be the point we become us three!
May 4, 2011
26 weeks and the unambiguous belly / baby
It’s been a crazy several weeks! I’ve been ridiculously busy trying to get pre-baby loose ends tied up (graduate school) and get things ready for post-newborn life (my career), and Tim has been busy at work and trying to convince his boss not to fly him to Shanghai for my third trimester. My third trimester, by the way, is here (or arrives next week, depending on who you ask).
My belly has grown to “unambiguously pregnant” status. With the return of morning (all-day) sickness around week 16 also came rapid weight gain, as the only way to keep from feeling barftastic is to eat every two hours. I’m not showing the extra weight yet in my nonbelly parts, so I’m not sure where it’s all going. However, I feel certain that all this poundage is going to spontaneously appear somewhere unfortunate. Anyway, I transitioned from people asking me a couple weeks ago, “Are you expecting?” to *now* where no one even bothers asking. Instead, I now receive strange pregnancy comments from strangers, e.g. “Oh, the baby! So cute!”, which I frankly don’t know how to respond to as there is both a layer of clothing and abdominal flesh between me and the other person so I have no idea how they are able to assess the cuteness of the fetus. Anyway, here’s a picture from a week ago, below. I chose this picture as I feel that my facial expression may almost be conveying how I feel about being pregnant:
To be fair, sometimes I do have the “all is full of love” or “life is beautiful” feeling that I am told often occurs during pregnancy… but mostly I feel sick, achy, irritable, and pissed off at all men who don’t have to go through this process in order to fulfill their reproductive destiny. Let it be known, I do not make a good pregnant person… if I have to pee any more frequently than I already do, I’m going to start wearing adult diapers and a moo-moo. I also have taken to screaming at strangers on the street who I feel are disrespectful to me and my pregnancy… e.g. today I screamed at least three times to people in cars, “Watch where you’re going!! Pregnant woman!” (except with more swear words). Its like the worst case of road rage, except that I don’t need to be in a car to feel it.
Anyway, a little bit of bad news. We just learned (three days ago) that our impending childification means we are going to have to move somewhere else. Turns out the house we are living in is about 100 years old, almost definitely contains lead in the structure, and would have to be deleaded for us to continue living here — a process that would take 2-3 months and cost our landlords $10,000+. So we are back on the renter’s market. Having to move in my third trimester is not something I’m thrilled about. Whatever, we’ll let you know what happens.
On the bright side, the baby continues to do well based on ALL measures and I am on track to have a normal delivery (based on our visit and ultrasound today). I am very happy the baby is doing well, but I was hoping they would find some compelling reason why I would have to be anesthetized for the entire birthing process. And… maybe I’m letting hormones get the better of me… but based on the latest 3-d ultrasound, I think Tim and I *might* just have the cutest 26 week old fetus there ever was:
He weighs in at 2 pounds, 3 ounces already! I can’t believe he still has 11-14 weeks left to cook.
In other news, we have more-or-less settled on a name. I am happy to inform you that our future son will probably be named Rafael James Strudwick. Or Raphael James Strudwick. We’re not sure which one yet, but will keep you posted. Until next time!
March 12, 2011
18 week ultrasound
I am now 18 weeks pregnant, and nearing the halfway point! Unfortunately this means my blood sugars are starting to rise (this is what happens if you have Type 1 diabetes and are pregnant) and so insulin is becoming a little harder to manage. Other than that though, things are going well! The ultrasound confirmed that the baby is healthy and developing normally, and they are certain at this point (or as certain as they can be) that little Baby Strudwick is a BOY.
This means I am going to have to contend with a whole new set of psychological questions, such as “What does it mean to be a man?” and “Is he going to set the house on fire?”. I read somewhere though that sons can be less stressful than daughters… with sons you only worry about one boy, whereas with daughters you have to worry about every boy on the planet (if you get what I’m saying). However, knowing Tim’s level of hyperactive self-destructiveness as a child (I was more of a “don’t mind me, I’ll just play with my dolls/legos today” kind of kid) I can’t help but feel a little queasy. That might be the morning sickness though, which contrary to (my) popular belief can sometimes experience a renaissance in the second trimester. Lucky me.
Tim is doing pretty well and getting used to his increased level of responsibility as I am less able and inclined to do certain things (sometimes when you drop things on the floors its easier to just leave them there). For me, this whole baby situation is quite real, as my body won’t let me forget it. For Tim though, its still a little more abstract. He is trying though “to get interested in things that I am interested in” (this in reference to a baby formula commercial on television). I try to assist occasionally by going into a hormone-induced rage (e.g. “There are no more olives, how could this possibly happen?!?!?!?!”), which I think helps bring things home.
Other exciting developments: For the past three weeks, I have been able to feel the baby moving all through the day. At first, I thought “oh no, its still in utero and its already hyperactive!”, but my doctor assures me that this exceptional amount of movement I’m feeling is because the placenta is posterior, and therefore the baby is pressed right up against my stomach skin. My doctor happily informed me that since I’m pretty slim thusfar (knock on wood), I might be one of those fortunate mothers who can sometimes see the impression of her baby’s feet through her stomach later in pregnancy. Having seen pictures like this one, I am thoroughly terrified:
SO NOT COOL.
I am also now understanding that, as I now look clearly pregnant to the outside world, my belly is officially in the public domain. In addition to the many belly touches, I have also had my belly sung to in a high-pitched voice. I don’t mind, exactly, but I sort of feel like I am part of some strange social experiment. I AM enjoying all the solicitousness of those around me though (saying “Oh look I ran out of water” with hand on belly = instant water refilling). I can’t wait until spring when I can shed my winter jacket and people start letting me jump the queue.
Alas, over the next few months Tim and I are going to have to work on our baby knowledge. When I first found out I was pregnant, I was concerned that between Tim and I we knew next to nothing about babies. Luckily I have friends who have some experience with infants, who have assured me that we do, in fact, know next to nothing about babies. In the last couple weeks, I have learned that infant nose care involves a strange suction device, that they like sitting in bouncy vibrating chairs when they are feeling irritable (WHY?), and that if a baby is crying, but its diaper is clean and it is well fed, that does not mean it is time to call the doctor. (Gas, I hear, is a common culprit. I practiced burping one of my officemates yesterday in preparation. Sorry David.)
Ok now that I’ve rambled at you for awhile, here is the thing you have been waiting for: the ultrasound video. This is the last video I will post, unfortunately. It turns out that we are not allowed to take video footage in the ultrasound room at the doctor’s office. The ultrasound technicians were unaware of this (shocking… how could we possibly be the first ones to try to videotape this stuff?) until the doctor happened to walk in during my fetal survey yesterday to see how it was going and saw Tim holding our camera up towards the screen to get our movie footage. We did manage to get a good 20 minutes worth though, which I have edited down to 3 minutes. For those of you who are not fascinated by fetal anatomy, this might be a less interesting video as there is A LOT of focus on organs, bones, etc. For those of you who ARE, in this video you can see (if you know what to look for) normal versions of the following: heart w/four chambers, spinal cord, aorta, stomach, diaphragm, kidneys, bladder, umbilical cord, femur, humerus, fingers, toes, genitals, baby butt (ok not technical term), palate, jaw, eye orbits, cerebellum, thalamus, and ventricles. I’m sure there is a lot more, but you can only say “What’s that?” so many times before they start getting irritated with you. The ventricles were particularly exciting, as baby’s ventricle size is right at the 50th percentile.
On the positive side, we weren’t discovered until now and the baby is getting a bit too big to visualize well on the 2d ultrasound machine anyway. Already you can see its not possible to get a shot that shows the entire baby. We’ll hopefully get some nice 3d pictures later down the line.
Anyway, enjoy the last of the ultrasound videos:
And, for those of you who didn’t see my facebook post of this video, this will hopefully tell you a bit about Tim and my probable parenting style:
