Roses and Thorns

This week has just flown by in a haze of mostly thorny times but surely I can pick a rose or two.

The Thorns continue to be illness(es). Dave (just on the mend from his own sinus infection) was back with Nate at the emergency room last night after five straight hours of screaming (Nathan's, though I think Dave joined in at the end). I was trapped at work, doing nothing except being available for the problems of other people's children, hating with every part of my soul listening to the screaming over the phone, feeling powerless, and feeling like the world's worst mother. Of course he was magically cured for the three hours they spent in the ER and then picked up where he left off when they got home. I have always joked with parents that coming to the ER/ doctor's office makes children feel better, but it is less amusing when it is your own child. We saw our doctor this morning when he developed a fever and refused to eat or smile and he was diagnosed with a "viral syndrome". A fairly irritated throat is presumed to be the source of the screaming. Tylenol and naps seem to be the words for the day.

Roses: 1) Ear infection is gone, per the lovely doctor, so no more twice daily struggles to get amoxicillin into him.

2) My first Mother's Day was absolutely charming. Nathan managed to communicate to his father a desire to send me flowers, and even chose my favorite - colorful, fragrant lilies and daisies. I had a delicious Mother's Day brunch where Nathan was pronounced the best behaved child in the restaurant.

3) Nathan has rolled over again and again, proving it was not a fluke.

4) Spent a lovely afternoon in the park with friends, feeling, for all the world like a mother of leisure.

Friend Cecilia looking Oh, so cute in the park

Nathan blows a razzberry!

Trouble With Technology

Before Nathan was born, Dave and I spent a lot of time talking about what we wanted for him. All parents do, of course, but a lot of our conversations centered on how to keep him active and healthy and smart and social in a society (and home) dominated by technology. I read A LOT as a child, teenager, young adult and am convinced that has a lot to do with my intelligence and success, (And no, I see no reason to be humble here. I'm doing pretty well for myself.) I also played outside and wandered the neighborhood with a pack of children, going backyard to backyard to climb trees and put on plays. TV makes you fat and stupid. Science has proven that. People who watch TV eat more and exercise less. Children who watch TV are more insensitive to violence and have smaller vocabularies. It truly is mindless entertainment. But it sure is fun.

These days Dave and I like to hike and swim and snorkel and explore, but we also have a Play Station and a Wii and like to watch baseball and a few TV shows. Before Nathan was born we thought we just wouldn't have the TV on when he was awake. This worked just fine when he was a newborn and slept all the time, but it has proved a little unrealistic now that he is older and awake so much more. We still don't get involved in any plot based entertainment when he is awake, but we like to watch some news or have a baseball game on while we putter around.

Over the last two days I have seen something that makes me a little ill. Nathan is mesmerized by the television. There I am blowing razzberries and making faces and he turns the other way to watch the confusion of color and motion that is playoff hockey. I suppose the attraction for him is conceptually no different from the music box on his playgym. It's not like he's actually rooting for the Pens. But still, it bothers me. It reminds me that balance is hard (says the girl who played DDR until she had stress fractures in her feet) and that Dave and I will have better luck setting an example than speaking a lesson. Though no normal child makes it through without a couple hours of "Bob the Builder" or "Thomas the Tank Engine", it's up to us to set limits and offer an alternative.

He's not going to build a treehouse on his own, but if we turn off the TV and go with him, magic can, and will, happen. For all of us.

Trial By Fever

Well it happened.

Three months old and we made our first trip to the Children's Emergency Department. Yesterday afternoon our sweet smiley boy became a hot to the touch, pitifully yowling, left-ear grabbing monster. His mood was significantly improved by a dose of tylenol but the horns came out again when the meds wore off. A phone call to the doctor foiled my brilliant plan to take him in for a next morning appointment because thanks to Susan G. Komen the normal Sunday office hours were canceled.

Convinced the ear grabbing was a malicious omen, I tried looking in his ears myself, but chickened out when the yowling started back in earnest and real tears were produced. Turns out Mommy can only be nonchalant about the tears of other people's children.

So, with a sigh, we packed up a bottle of water and a couple card games and headed off the the new ED.

After chatting companionably with a few people who had been waiting for three hours, and watching a stereotypical ghetto chick melt down and be escorted out by security, one of my friends snuck us in the back to be "unofficially seen". (Thanks Julia!!!)

She confirmed that yes, the left ear was infected, poor baby, wrote a prescription for the pink bubblegum elixir of life, and had us out in about an hour, proving that sometimes it really is who you know.

This morning, fortified with a second dose of amoxicillin and some sweet grape tylenol, our boy was UTTERLY charming at my Mother's Day brunch.

Roses and Thorns

I "borrowed" the title from the Obama family. I heard that every night at dinner, everyone tells one "rose" and one "thorn" from their day. One of his daughters was quoted as saying that President Obama had a very thorny job.

I thought that once a week I would share a small cutting from my life.

First, the Thorn: Nathan has a cold. Stuffy nose, yellow boogers, powerful need to be held, and a low-grade fever confirmed with the aid of a small tub of Vaseline I was hoping to never use. Not sure if we should be blaming his few days in day care or someone who touched him without washing their hands, but he stayed home with Mommy today to avoid making anyone else sick. He's such a good natured little guy that he smiles even as he is fussing and rubbing his nose, but he's still an obligate nose breather when he eats, so it's no fun for anyone. Daddy was up with him the first night since I had to be at work. He took incredibly good care of him and looked pleased with himself, if a little tired, in the morning.

And the Rose? Drumroll please . . . Or should I say Nathanroll? That's right. Our little wonder rolled over, snot and all today. He was laying on his tummy and he pushed himself up on his arms (usually I have to put his arms out in front for him- ie. in all previous pictures) and then leaned to his right and over he went. He looked momentarily confused, and that could have been because he was suddenly seeing the world from a different angle, but it could also have been because I was hollering and clapping.

Pushing chest off the floor!

Immediately after rolling over!

An Embarassment of Riches

Nathan is surrounded by all the gifts we have received in the past couple weeks.

Big thanks to Aunt Lily, Grandma Diane, Aunt Ernestine, Grandpa Lamb, Grandma Nancy, Grandma Julie, and Grandpa Howard.

He will be well dressed and entertained for months!

Gotta Have Goals

Nathan would like to learn how to blow a razzberry. He must have read the book that suggests a slightly advanced child may be able to do this by the end of the month. And, of course, he'd like to prove himself.

He needs some help, however. If anyone can provide any insight as to how to get from this position (left) to producing sound, he would greatly appreciate it.

His parents are no help whatsoever, seeing as they insist on simply making the sound over and over without offering any practical advice. In addition, he expresses appreciation for a good wet razzberry with a face splitting smile, thus breaking his concentration from the task at hand.
Still, he believes in himself and knows that practice makes perfect. And so, he spends a good bit of his awake time tongue out between lips and blowing air. Hoping, like a monkey at a typewriter to eventually settle on the winning combination.

We all know it's just a matter of time.

Musings

We didn't have the easiest road to having a child. By comparison, we didn't have the hardest either. Now, with baby drool on the couches and bags under my eyes from midnight feedings, I can say it was the perfect path because it was the way to this perfect baby.

Dave and I were very candid with people about what we were going through. Surrounded by friends who decided they wanted to have a baby and were pregnant the next month, we really had an enthralled audience full of people thinking "But for the grace of God . . ." And if anyone thought we were doing the wrong thing, if anyone was thinking about unwanted children the world over or carried a conviction that the zygotes we were playing with were actually people, no one beat us up about it. We got nothing but good wishes and for that I am grateful.

I didn't want to do IVF. I repeatedly told my husband I wouldn't, but with a failure of Clomid to do anything, we ran out of options so very quickly. And before I knew it, there I was, staggering around with ovaries the size of grapefruits, praying for a million eggs, a million zygotes, but just one baby at a time, please. And because I live a charmed life, that is more or less what I got. Nathan's name means "gift of God" and I believe that he is. And God made use of some amazing science to bring him into being.

It blows my mind to look at this picture and know that my son was once tiny enough, and frozen enough to live in one of these little straws. It also blows my mind that stored in a vat of liquid nitrogen are many more of these straws housing little clusters of Dave and I. Nathan's potential sisters and brothers, chillin' in suspended animation. All that potential is a staggering responsibility. While I feel firmly that zygotes are not people, I also feel firmly that they are of high value and not to be treated lightly. When they told me that we had made a small army of zygotes, I was excited and felt immediately oddly protective toward them. When they told me that I was pregnant I was elated. When they told me that there was one healthy baby growing in side me I was ecstatic . . . and a little sad. They had, after all, put two zygotes in, and the presence of one baby meant that another, Nathan's potential twin, had not made it. Having another baby someday means that another little zygote may be defrosted and not implant, not fulfill it's potential.

Some, I know, say that's murder, and I say that is ridiculous. First, you can't murder what is not alive. Frozen in liquid nitrogen with no consciousness and no ability for independent existence is not what any thinking person would define as alive. Second, you might as well say that any sexually active woman who menstruates is committing murder, because chances are good that an unimplanted zygote is being washed away at the end of the month.

Watching the so called "Octomom" on TV made me crazy because she is crazy, her doctor was irresponsible, and no one suffers but the babies (and perhaps the American taxpayer). But it also made me crazy because she portrayed herself as so sure everything she did was right and perfect. As if IVF was black and white. That, for me, is the proof that she is crazy or simply hasn't thought about it. IVF involves risk for mother and baby and yet in the right hands it is very safe. It uses expensive medical resources for an elective procedure and steals research dollars from other causes. It gives hurting adults the chance to be parents but may then close their home to a baby who already is in the world and already needs their love. I am glad Nathan is an only child and I wish he had a twin.

There are endless contradictions in this process, but one thing is crystal clear: I love my baby fiercely. I do not think every day of where he came from, but I do think every day of how special he is and how I would do anything for him. Much like any parent I suppose.

It's National Infertility Awareness Week. Please think twice before supporting any legislation that would make the government responsible for sorting through these shades of grey. Leave it up to the parents!