A couple of weeks ago, my friend Darlynn stopped by to see Jackson and to bring dinner for us harried new parents. She brought her 22 month old son. It was so fun to see how her son has grown in the 10 months since we first met him. And it was fun to see what is to come for our little one.
I had to snicker to myself a few times that night though. Apparently, Darlynn's son is learning how to jump. Most of the time, it looked like the physical action of a jump, with no actual progress. But once in a while, he would actually leave the ground a bit. On those events, Darlynn would proudly encourage him, "Great job! You got some air that time!" I thought it was funny because Darlynn, for as long as I've known her, has always been a no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is person. I had a couple of middle school aged orthodontic patients who had her as a teacher when she was teaching social studies. She was well-liked (as she deserves) and had a reputation among the students for her biting wit. So it was fun to see that she has melted into a tender-hearted mom.
Now a couple of weeks later, I'm rather surprised to hear what comes out of my mouth, as well as Ian's. Both of us have always prided ourselves on being logical and unemotional, but these are the little things that make us excited now:
"Ooo! Excellent burp! Give me another just like that"
"Hey, did he just smile? I don't think it was just gas. Do it again. Come on, smile, smile, smile!"
"That's it! Turn your head! Lift it up! Now rotate!"
"Hey, I think he just discovered his hand!"
And the classic..."My, that was a productive poop! You're such a good eater!"
All of our happy observations seem so appropriate now - for us as well as for our son at his developmental stage. I just hope nobody catches us saying these same things in 18 years.
Clarice
Before the baby came I used to joke that when the baby came I could regress my maturity to the baby's level and then mature with the baby as he grew. Therefore I could have a second chance to grow up. My wife put an end to my joke after hearing it for the third time. (Three is the magic number for her to start connecting my jokes to my bahavior and wondering if I have core value issues.) I mean, how ludicrous to think that I would really dream of regressing to infancy and start spitting up on myself and pooping in public and then spend 18 plus years growing up to the level of maturity I had when I was that age. Now that the baby has come, we celebrate our baby's infantile behavior but my wife hopes we don't get caught celebrating these things in 18 years! Let's hope we both mature again faster than our baby. :)
Ian
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Crossing the street without looking
I read an editorial today that reminded me of something that stuck in my mind about a month ago. I was leaving work and getting ready to cross the street to get to the parking structure where Baloo (my cute single girl's car that is now quite inconvenient for our growing family) was parked. There was a group of 4 or 5 students walking in front of me. The lone girl in the group stepped out into the street without looking. She didn't even wait to get into the crosswalk. Not too big of a deal, except a car had already started to turn left into that lane. She didn't even see the car, she was so busy talking to her friends. One of her friends reached out to stop her and the car slammed on the brakes. And the girl? She walked on, clueless and unfazed. For some reason, I seethed inside. Maybe I was shocked at her lack of caution. I grew up being taught that crosswalks weren't magic. There was the chance that a driver might not be paying attention so I still had to protect myself. Maybe I was annoyed because I've had to slam on the brakes a few times when somebody (usually talking on a cell phone) decides to cross the street in front of my right turn just when the white man turns into a blinking red hand. Most likely, I was frustrated by the lack of consideration she was showing. Consideration was at the core of the editorial I read today.
We as a country (or maybe even a human race) have seemed to have lost a value for consideration. Instead, we continually talk about "our rights." And rights seem to be about the importance of what I want instead of what you may want (or even need). I read an article about Constitutional rights a while back by Walter Williams. The excerpt that struck me was this:
I think I get so hung up on the battle between rights and consideration because it's a battle in my own life. I'm a structured person. I like things just so and I think I know everything. And sometimes, I forget to (or don't bother to) consider that others might not like things the way I do. So the example of Jesus keeps banging me over the head. He knew what His rights were, yet He chose to consider those rights as less important than serving people. If that's what Jesus did, then I have no justification to think that my rights are more important than someone else's. I wonder what this country (this world) would be like if we all chose to look not only to our own interests, but the interests of others. Less controversial Supreme Court decisions? More congenial relationships with strangers? More growing churches? Perhaps it could just be easier to drive without worrying about hitting people who aren't looking before crossing.
Clarice
We as a country (or maybe even a human race) have seemed to have lost a value for consideration. Instead, we continually talk about "our rights." And rights seem to be about the importance of what I want instead of what you may want (or even need). I read an article about Constitutional rights a while back by Walter Williams. The excerpt that struck me was this:
The way our Constitution's framers used the term, a right is something that exists simultaneously among people and imposes no obligation on another. For example, the right to free speech, or freedom to travel, is something we all simultaneously possess. My right to free speech or freedom to travel imposes no obligation upon another except that of non-interference. In other words, my exercising my right to speech or travel requires absolutely nothing from you and in no way diminishes any of your rights.Nowadays, it doesn't seem to matter what others may want. If a group of people want something, they'll try to push it through loudly with political means despite potential infringement on the rights of others. It kind of bugs me that special interest groups will take issues to the Supreme Court that have already been decided by the Legislature. Even when a majority wins a decision, the minority often wants to impose its desires on the rest of the country. Kinda inconsiderate. I've noticed the loss of consideration in social aspects also. People seem to flaunt their rights to free speech. You know, like having to listen to the sexcapades of a neighboring group of people in loud, off-color language. What if I don't want to hear what you did last night? ...Or what you think of this or that? Can be inconsiderate also. I've even seen the focus on rights enter into the church setting. You know, when people insist that church should be done a certain way. Or that they would best be served if the church did this. What about people who have no experience of church? What if they would actually consider God if we weren't so hung up on what we want? Inconsiderate? I'm starting to see how culture is swinging toward a norm where people feel more and more comfortable demanding their rights at the expense of others. And we are growing less and less considerate.
I think I get so hung up on the battle between rights and consideration because it's a battle in my own life. I'm a structured person. I like things just so and I think I know everything. And sometimes, I forget to (or don't bother to) consider that others might not like things the way I do. So the example of Jesus keeps banging me over the head. He knew what His rights were, yet He chose to consider those rights as less important than serving people. If that's what Jesus did, then I have no justification to think that my rights are more important than someone else's. I wonder what this country (this world) would be like if we all chose to look not only to our own interests, but the interests of others. Less controversial Supreme Court decisions? More congenial relationships with strangers? More growing churches? Perhaps it could just be easier to drive without worrying about hitting people who aren't looking before crossing.
Clarice
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Ian's last post
Can you believe what Ian wrote about on his last post? The last time he blogged was almost 4 months ago. He's had plenty of ideas for posts - mainly involving motorcycles, fire, explosions, coal trains, and other manly shenanigans. Meanwhile, in his absence, this blog has moved distinctly toward the feminine. To all of Ian's buddies, take note, Ian's been slightly domesticated by his man-child. He's writing about diaper changes and bath time. Who's next?
Clarice
Clarice
Monday, March 13, 2006
Baby's First Bubbles
One of the joys of a firstborn child is all the firsts that the parents get to experience. Most of these firsts revolve around bodily functions. First green-black-tar poop. First brown poop. First triple-scoop soft-serve chocolate poop. First orange poop. First yellow poop. First liquid poop. First projectile poop that hits the wall six feet away. First pee onto baby’s chin. First spitup, pee and poop at the same exact moment. First Dad fart that could be blamed on baby. It’s all a joy and brings laughter to everybody present. It’s a universal truth that fart sounds never cease to be funny. Who would want to miss these baby firsts? Not this Dad!
I’ve always reviled at the thought of changing someone else’s baby’s diaper, but for some reason I looked forward to changing my own child’s. At first I was somewhat hesitant to face down the first black, sticky meconium, since Clarice had cautioned me how gross it was going to be. But when there was no smell, I did the first three changes with a singular pride that I only knew as a toddler when I claimed my first solo toilet-poop and wouldn’t let my Mom flush it. “I made that!” I truly enjoy changing my baby’s diaper and even have to fight off his mom for the opportunity. We're so independent. Sometimes, Clarice lets me sleep through a change, but when she cries out with a delightful yelp I hop out of bed to see what I missed - an inconceivable assplosion that ramped off the diaper and splattered the onesie, the footsies, the bassinet, the wall, door and floor. Cool! Just wash your feet before you get back into bed! All so matter of fact. Babies do that...
A few days ago, Jackson’s umbilical cord fell off. This led to another first - bathing by immersion instead of sponge bath. This was a new experience that I didn’t get right the first time. For starters, the bathing tub is too big for baby and I filled it too full with pleasing, warm, soapy water. Jackson hates to be cold and dry, but loves to be warm and wet. But he’s so floppy and every time he bent sideways, his ear would almost submerge and Clarice would ask that I not get water in his ears, all the while snapping photos and not helping me save our child from drowning. We learned a few tricks – use a smaller basin, have rinse water awaiting and don’t let baby suck on his soapy fingers. Soap causes diarrhea, don’t you know? Soap also causes poop to bubble out – another awesome first! :)
Ian
I’ve always reviled at the thought of changing someone else’s baby’s diaper, but for some reason I looked forward to changing my own child’s. At first I was somewhat hesitant to face down the first black, sticky meconium, since Clarice had cautioned me how gross it was going to be. But when there was no smell, I did the first three changes with a singular pride that I only knew as a toddler when I claimed my first solo toilet-poop and wouldn’t let my Mom flush it. “I made that!” I truly enjoy changing my baby’s diaper and even have to fight off his mom for the opportunity. We're so independent. Sometimes, Clarice lets me sleep through a change, but when she cries out with a delightful yelp I hop out of bed to see what I missed - an inconceivable assplosion that ramped off the diaper and splattered the onesie, the footsies, the bassinet, the wall, door and floor. Cool! Just wash your feet before you get back into bed! All so matter of fact. Babies do that...
A few days ago, Jackson’s umbilical cord fell off. This led to another first - bathing by immersion instead of sponge bath. This was a new experience that I didn’t get right the first time. For starters, the bathing tub is too big for baby and I filled it too full with pleasing, warm, soapy water. Jackson hates to be cold and dry, but loves to be warm and wet. But he’s so floppy and every time he bent sideways, his ear would almost submerge and Clarice would ask that I not get water in his ears, all the while snapping photos and not helping me save our child from drowning. We learned a few tricks – use a smaller basin, have rinse water awaiting and don’t let baby suck on his soapy fingers. Soap causes diarrhea, don’t you know? Soap also causes poop to bubble out – another awesome first! :)
Ian
"So that's what hash browns are for!"
Looks like I've joined Ian, whose middle of the night antics I blogged about here, in the fellowship of the sleeptalkers.
It happened early yesterday morning. Jackson woke me up for his 5:00 AM feeding. After nursing, I laid him back down to sleep. It was all going so smoothly. I'd soon be able to return to bed for another 2 hours of sleep. But as I crawled back into bed, I heard the unmistakable sound of an explosion (or ass-plosion, as Ian calls it). Unfortunately, Jackson doesn't like to have his diaper changed, so he woke up screaming and wouldn't go back to sleep. Ian had mercy on me and got up to try to soothe our son back to sleep. So there I was, sleeping propped up against my husband, who was cradling our son. I have a vague recollection that I was dreaming something important when all of a sudden I declared, "So that's what hash browns are for!" In a classic moment of role reversal, Ian's laughter woke me up. He told me what I had said and we spent the next few minutes trying to figure out what I must have discovered in my sleep. After all, most people think hash browns are only for eating. What did my sleeping brain unlock about the existence of hash browns?
Talking in his sleep is normal for Ian. But for me, it can only be attributed to utter exhaustion. Sleep deprivation is not a pretty sight on me. But as I've thought about my "plight" as a new mother, I've realized how completely blessed I have been. Since Jackson's birth, I've had one husband and between one to four grandparents here with whom to share the burden of caring for this newborn. I've had it incredibly easy. It makes me appreciate even more my mother and my mother-in-law, who both did it alone, back in the day when there was no family leave for fathers. And to every new mother who has also had to do it alone, my hat's off to you. I'm starting to learn about the reality and the beauty of sacrifice.
Clarice
It happened early yesterday morning. Jackson woke me up for his 5:00 AM feeding. After nursing, I laid him back down to sleep. It was all going so smoothly. I'd soon be able to return to bed for another 2 hours of sleep. But as I crawled back into bed, I heard the unmistakable sound of an explosion (or ass-plosion, as Ian calls it). Unfortunately, Jackson doesn't like to have his diaper changed, so he woke up screaming and wouldn't go back to sleep. Ian had mercy on me and got up to try to soothe our son back to sleep. So there I was, sleeping propped up against my husband, who was cradling our son. I have a vague recollection that I was dreaming something important when all of a sudden I declared, "So that's what hash browns are for!" In a classic moment of role reversal, Ian's laughter woke me up. He told me what I had said and we spent the next few minutes trying to figure out what I must have discovered in my sleep. After all, most people think hash browns are only for eating. What did my sleeping brain unlock about the existence of hash browns?
Talking in his sleep is normal for Ian. But for me, it can only be attributed to utter exhaustion. Sleep deprivation is not a pretty sight on me. But as I've thought about my "plight" as a new mother, I've realized how completely blessed I have been. Since Jackson's birth, I've had one husband and between one to four grandparents here with whom to share the burden of caring for this newborn. I've had it incredibly easy. It makes me appreciate even more my mother and my mother-in-law, who both did it alone, back in the day when there was no family leave for fathers. And to every new mother who has also had to do it alone, my hat's off to you. I'm starting to learn about the reality and the beauty of sacrifice.
Clarice
Monday, March 06, 2006
"I heard you had a cute one..."
That's what the second nurse said as she whisked into our room to start off her shift with us. "I'll have to take a good look at him in a minute." She scurried about her tasks, taking my vital signs, dispensing my pain meds, and checking on "the site." "Now, let me take a look at your little one," she said. "Oh, you two should procreate more regularly." We agreed with her that we managed to spawn a beautiful child. But we're biased. What can we say?
This is Jackson at 8 days. I wouldn't have guessed that he would look like this. I was so confident that all my genes would dominate over Mr Recessive Genes. But Ian's genes held their own. Jackson's hair is the color of Ian's roots, he has the same cowlick on the right side, and just the hint of a future of male pattern baldness. The ruddy skin is Ian's as well as the little mouth. I can only claim his nose and the dark eyes. I can't really say he looks Chinese at all. But we'll have to wait and find out what the future brings. In the meantime, we just fall in love with him a little more every day.
Clarice
This is Jackson at 8 days. I wouldn't have guessed that he would look like this. I was so confident that all my genes would dominate over Mr Recessive Genes. But Ian's genes held their own. Jackson's hair is the color of Ian's roots, he has the same cowlick on the right side, and just the hint of a future of male pattern baldness. The ruddy skin is Ian's as well as the little mouth. I can only claim his nose and the dark eyes. I can't really say he looks Chinese at all. But we'll have to wait and find out what the future brings. In the meantime, we just fall in love with him a little more every day.
Clarice
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Jackson Timothy Eyre
We are so excited to add little Jackson Timothy Eyre to our family. He was supposed to come on March 6, according to our ultrasound, but was so eager to enter (and change) our lives he came early. Here’s the story of his arrival.
We thought we had plenty of time. After all, don’t most first babies come late? In fact, we were banking on it and planned a weekend getaway on President’s Day weekend, our first anniversary. We checked with our OB then took off for Catalina Island. It was a lovely weekend. We toured the town of Avalon, lunched at the Country Club, went on a cruise in a glass-bottom boat, rented a tandem bicycle to ride along the coastline, and took long leisurely walks. Then Clarice went back to work on Tuesday and Wednesday to finish up some administrative tasks for her absence and Ian went back to work on “Spider-Man 3.” We planned on cleaning house and setting up his living space the following week. Maybe we overdid it a bit...
On Wednesday night, Feb 22 (12 days before the due date), Clarice started experiencing some mild contractions and the sense that the baby was “dropping.” These contractions lasted throughout the night and felt different from the Braxton-Hicks contractions she had experienced the previous few months, so Thursday morning she called to make an appointment with our OB just to make sure everything was okay. Because we asked for an updated estimate of due date to make sure Ian’s parents wouldn’t miss anything before their journey from Atlanta, the doctor did an exam and was very surprised to announce that she was dilated 1-2 cm, 70-80% effaced, and that the baby was at station 0 (for those of you who know what all that means). He said that made things very unpredictable, but thought that there was a 70% chance that the baby would come in the next 7-10 days.
That night when Ian came home from work at 10pm, the parents-to-be scurried about with final preparations, setting up the bassinet and doing last minute laundry for the “hospital suitcase,” hoping for the weekend to clean house and move the clutter to the garage. Ian fully expected to finish the workweek on “Spider-Man 3” and we hoped Ian’s parents could come early just in case.
An hour later, Clarice’s water broke! So much for wishful thinking. We checked into UCLA Medical Center at midnight and were told that if the baby didn’t come within 24 hours, they would most likely induce labor because of the risk of infection with the breaking of the water bag. We pretty much knew this day would be his birthday.
By about 10am, Clarice was 8cm dilated and 100% effaced. The contractions were strong enough that we were finally sure that inducement would not be necessary. As the nature of the pain changed and moved to the lower spine, Clarice was pretty sure she would ask for an epidural. She even signed informed consent just in case. Fortunately, the midwife knew a pressure technique to help her deal with the back pain for 60 seconds at a time. Soon after, Clarice decided that she could handle the pain and chose not to have the epidural. During each contraction, Clarice would close her eyes and concentrate hard, but not make a sound. She was so focused.
At 11:30am, Clarice was 9cm dilated and soon felt the urge to push. Her back pain eased as the baby’s head continued to lower and by noon, pushing felt better than not pushing. Soon the 2 minutes between contractions slowed and Clarice was able to recover and catch her breath, even snoozing for a moment. She tried several positions for each contraction, sometimes squatting, sometimes leaning on a bar, before finding the most comfortable position on her side. Heavy pushing began around 12:30pm and finally the hard work began. Clarice was unbelievably strong and determined to finish naturally.
After the head began to appear, Ian was asked if he wanted to participate in the delivery and he said “sure.” The nurses told him to wash his hands and suddenly commanded him to grab the head and pull. Within seconds, Clarice was holding our little purple son, who cried instantly for a few seconds and then turned into the most content, peaceful boy for the rest of the day. We were happy to be joined in the delivery room by Clarice’s parents and her brother Randy and sister-in-law Amy. Only Ian’s parents were missing. It was a wonderful family affair.
Birth was pronounced at 1:26pm. Weight was 6lbs, 4.3oz. Length was 19.5, although later corrected to 18.5”. Jackson is healthy in every way. We marvel at all the reflexes that God created into him. So far we are just learning what ails him when he cries. He’s feeding and pooping and peeing just fine. Ian even changed the first four diapers with a smile (ask him about meconium).
We named our son Jackson because of a strong tradition in the Eyre family of naming the eldest son a derivative of “John.” Ian’s dad is the third John in a row, with several other Johns in previous generations. Ian is the Scottish form of John. Jack is the diminutive form of John, making Jackson the “son of John.” Timothy is the name of Clarice’s father. Together, his name means “God’s gracious gift” and “one who honors God.” He’s truly a blessing, joy, and miracle. It is our prayer that he would indeed honor God.
Thank you for your thoughts and prayers and for sharing in our exciting news.
Clarice and Ian
We thought we had plenty of time. After all, don’t most first babies come late? In fact, we were banking on it and planned a weekend getaway on President’s Day weekend, our first anniversary. We checked with our OB then took off for Catalina Island. It was a lovely weekend. We toured the town of Avalon, lunched at the Country Club, went on a cruise in a glass-bottom boat, rented a tandem bicycle to ride along the coastline, and took long leisurely walks. Then Clarice went back to work on Tuesday and Wednesday to finish up some administrative tasks for her absence and Ian went back to work on “Spider-Man 3.” We planned on cleaning house and setting up his living space the following week. Maybe we overdid it a bit...
On Wednesday night, Feb 22 (12 days before the due date), Clarice started experiencing some mild contractions and the sense that the baby was “dropping.” These contractions lasted throughout the night and felt different from the Braxton-Hicks contractions she had experienced the previous few months, so Thursday morning she called to make an appointment with our OB just to make sure everything was okay. Because we asked for an updated estimate of due date to make sure Ian’s parents wouldn’t miss anything before their journey from Atlanta, the doctor did an exam and was very surprised to announce that she was dilated 1-2 cm, 70-80% effaced, and that the baby was at station 0 (for those of you who know what all that means). He said that made things very unpredictable, but thought that there was a 70% chance that the baby would come in the next 7-10 days.
That night when Ian came home from work at 10pm, the parents-to-be scurried about with final preparations, setting up the bassinet and doing last minute laundry for the “hospital suitcase,” hoping for the weekend to clean house and move the clutter to the garage. Ian fully expected to finish the workweek on “Spider-Man 3” and we hoped Ian’s parents could come early just in case.
An hour later, Clarice’s water broke! So much for wishful thinking. We checked into UCLA Medical Center at midnight and were told that if the baby didn’t come within 24 hours, they would most likely induce labor because of the risk of infection with the breaking of the water bag. We pretty much knew this day would be his birthday.
By about 10am, Clarice was 8cm dilated and 100% effaced. The contractions were strong enough that we were finally sure that inducement would not be necessary. As the nature of the pain changed and moved to the lower spine, Clarice was pretty sure she would ask for an epidural. She even signed informed consent just in case. Fortunately, the midwife knew a pressure technique to help her deal with the back pain for 60 seconds at a time. Soon after, Clarice decided that she could handle the pain and chose not to have the epidural. During each contraction, Clarice would close her eyes and concentrate hard, but not make a sound. She was so focused.
At 11:30am, Clarice was 9cm dilated and soon felt the urge to push. Her back pain eased as the baby’s head continued to lower and by noon, pushing felt better than not pushing. Soon the 2 minutes between contractions slowed and Clarice was able to recover and catch her breath, even snoozing for a moment. She tried several positions for each contraction, sometimes squatting, sometimes leaning on a bar, before finding the most comfortable position on her side. Heavy pushing began around 12:30pm and finally the hard work began. Clarice was unbelievably strong and determined to finish naturally.
After the head began to appear, Ian was asked if he wanted to participate in the delivery and he said “sure.” The nurses told him to wash his hands and suddenly commanded him to grab the head and pull. Within seconds, Clarice was holding our little purple son, who cried instantly for a few seconds and then turned into the most content, peaceful boy for the rest of the day. We were happy to be joined in the delivery room by Clarice’s parents and her brother Randy and sister-in-law Amy. Only Ian’s parents were missing. It was a wonderful family affair.
Birth was pronounced at 1:26pm. Weight was 6lbs, 4.3oz. Length was 19.5, although later corrected to 18.5”. Jackson is healthy in every way. We marvel at all the reflexes that God created into him. So far we are just learning what ails him when he cries. He’s feeding and pooping and peeing just fine. Ian even changed the first four diapers with a smile (ask him about meconium).
We named our son Jackson because of a strong tradition in the Eyre family of naming the eldest son a derivative of “John.” Ian’s dad is the third John in a row, with several other Johns in previous generations. Ian is the Scottish form of John. Jack is the diminutive form of John, making Jackson the “son of John.” Timothy is the name of Clarice’s father. Together, his name means “God’s gracious gift” and “one who honors God.” He’s truly a blessing, joy, and miracle. It is our prayer that he would indeed honor God.
Thank you for your thoughts and prayers and for sharing in our exciting news.
Clarice and Ian
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)