Oliver's First Christmas

Oliver is in the Christmas spirit.

   Christmas this year has taken on new meaning for us. Oliver is seven months old and although I know he won't remember it, it has special meaning for me and Easan. Christmas has always been a time to hang out with family, exchange gifts, drink too much wine and play silly games that end up in vulgar hilarity. The holiday traditions for me start with my mom's Christmas tree. She always puts up the most amazing tree. It is huge, sparkling with lights and dripping with ornaments. My mom was super thoughtful and collected ornaments for me since I was little, so I have a great selection for decorating my own tree. This year I wasn't really in the mood for a tree. Our living room is overflowing with baby stuff and I didn't want to add another thing I would have to clean up after. When I told Easan I didn't want a tree he indignantly exclaimed "But we HAVE to! For OLIVER!" I didn't realize he felt so strongly about it. I relented and we got a tree the next weekend. 

Mom would only let me chew
the soft ornaments

   Decorating the tree with Easan and Oliver was a great afternoon. Easan is usually a huge scrooge about Christmas stuff. He had me cracking up after one vehement rant about christmas scents: "What is the deal with all the damn Christmas smells? NO ONE LIKES CINAMMON, OR GINGERBREAD, OR PUMPKIN SPICE!!!" Well I guess the christmas industry had it wrong all these years. After I accused him of being a scrooge about Christmas, he bought his nieces advent calendars and exclaimed "SEE! I'm  FUN! I bought advent calendars!" Let the good times roll. 
    Anyway, in a completely uncharacteristically festive mood, Easan put on some christmas music and was helping me decorate the tree. "Whats with the music? I thought you hated Christmas music." I asked him. He declared that since it was Oliver's first christmas, it was a different and that he could tolerate some christmas songs. He did have to sing along, changing all the lyrics to be inappropriate and usually about farts. Christmas fart songs always get you in the holiday spirit.  

Every little kid needs an Elmo

We spent Christmas Day at Grandma and Grandpa Selvan's house with the entire Selvan clan. It was fairly chaotic with twelve people and a mountain of presents. Poor Little Oliver was fighting an ear infection so he had a bit of a rough day. After it all I was thinking about Christmas with a baby and how it all seems more important now. Being with family sometimes feels like an obligation as an adult. But now that I am responsible for the healthy development of a tiny yet awesome human I realize that it is about building a foundation. These people are part of his foundation and spending the holidays together creates some of his earliest and strongest memories. I know in years to come there will be lots more kids (not all mine) and that means a whole chorus of fart songs. Strong foundations, that's what it is all about. 

Wrapping paper tubes make great swords

The Travel Challenge Part One: Driving to Denver

   Our first vacation with Oliver was a week long trip to Denver. We not only drove to Denver but we also stayed in a hotel for a week. I was a little nervous about the car ride because it was eight hours totally dependent on the whims of an infant. Oliver is an extremely laid back kid and tends to handle new things well so I put my faith in his ability to keep his cool. My confidence in him was rewarded. He did great and seemed to enjoy all the new experiences.

   The car trip started off well, we left in the morning and Oliver immediately fell asleep. He slept for two hours. Easan and I were able to sit up front together and talk and tick away those miles. He woke up when we stopped and I changed him and tried to nurse him. He wasn't too into nursing in the car, so I plugged in my pump (love having a car with a regular plug in the back seat) and pumped a bottle for him. He drank the whole bottle no problem. After that, I didn't even try to nurse him in the car, just pumped a bottle and fed him in his seat. That way Easan could drive and we wouldn't lose any time. We took turns sitting in the back with him, playing with toys, watching Sesame Street on the tablet and playing peek-a-boo with the blanket. Easan is particularly masterful at peek-a-boo. He started getting a little cranky as we arrived at the city limits of Denver. It had been eight hours of driving and the kid doesn't get cranky until the very end? Not too bad.

Ready to hit the town in Denver.

 We stayed in a Hotel downtown for the entire week. Funny the things you get nervous about and the things that don't even phase you. I was all worried about the drive, but the thought of sharing a hotel room with an infant for a week didn't even occur to me as a bad idea. A friend said something about it right before we left, but it was too late to change our plans. Luckily, Oliver did great once again. He slept in the pack-and-play just fine even when the light was still on and Easan and I were still awake watching TV.  And he didn't really cry at night, much to the relief of our neighbors. The cutest thing about staying in a hotel with a baby is how he became a little celebrity. As one valet eloquently put it "Damn! That's a cute-ass baby!" Everyone loved to see him and he drew lots of attention every time we brought him with us to the hotel bar's happy hour. Yes we brought our baby to the bar for a drink. We couldn't leave him in the room!

Oliver met a shark!

Denver was a blast, Oliver and I went to the Aquarium, the zoo, the Museum of Science and Nature and the Denver Art Museum. I think he most enjoyed the aquarium and the art museum. The aquarium was full of exhibits that surrounded you on all sides which he seemed intrigued by. Unfortunately, it was also full of really loud little kids who at one point made him cry. the jerks! The zoo may have been a little advanced for him, he didn't seem to register many of the animals, except for the Monkey Island exhibit. There were all kinds of monkeys running all over the place and they kinda looked like kitties. Oliver was intrigued. 

One happy guy even after eight hours of driving.

   The drive home was even better than the drive there. Oliver was cheerful the entire way back. But the best part of the trip home was when we actually arrived back at our house. Oliver was so excited to be home. When we took him out of the seat, he was looking all around and squealing and kicking his legs. We put him in his jumper and he bounced ecstatically while making happy shrieks. I guess the kid missed his house.
  


 Things I learned about long drives with the kid: distraction and naps all the way.

Daycare Days

   Since mid September Oliver has been going to daycare full time. On a recommendation from a friend, we found a lovely little home daycare run by a fantastic lady named Margaret. She only has three other kids there, one girl and two other boys. All are older than Oliver and as a result he quickly became their baby and gets a lot of attention. Margaret takes great care of him, and is very accommodating to our needs. Primarily, she lets us use cloth diapers and doesn't mind me coming over the lunch hour to nurse. 
   I wasn't sure how I was going to feel about daycare. I was very lucky to be able to keep Oliver with me for the first four months. Most moms are not so lucky. I was a little worried about his transition with things like napping and eating. He really didn't take a bottle well and was exclusively breast fed, so I was worried he wouldn't eat for her. Also, his napping schedule was really random, but that wasn't really a problem when he was with me, but how would it work in a daycare full of noisy toddlers? But in addition to those questions, I worried how I would handle the transition. Oliver is the most important person in my life and I spend most of my time thinking about him or at least in the back of my mind. I chafed at the idea that someone else gets to spend all of his waking hours with him, and all I got were the few hours after work when he was usually at his crankiest. It didn't seem fair. It seemed even less fair when I discovered that the majority of first world countries gave many more months of maternity leave than the US does, and it is paid or at least partially subsidized. I worried that he would like Margaret more than me, and she would be the one to see all his first moments. 

Anders and Oliver

   Luckily, Margaret was well versed in dealing with parents. I am sure the parent's issues are often worse than the kids. She was very calm and reassuring, but at the same time not coddling. She assured me she would call if Oliver were inconsolable at all. Of course she never had to call. Oliver did great. In fact, I can securely say he LOVES daycare. He has so much fun and has taken to the other kids. Now when he is at home with me on weekends, sometimes I feel like he is bored. Daycare has better toys and more friends. He has become besties with one of the little boys named Anders. Anders called Oliver MY baby, with emphasis on the MY. He always runs to see him when I show up in the morning, and climbs up on a stool to peer in at him in the car seat. He brings him toys during the day, and is very gentle when replacing his bink if it falls out or is snatched out by another kid. Why are other kids fascinated with babies' pacifiers? This seems to be true at least with all the kids Oliver and I have encountered. 
   Flash forward: it has been almost three months of daycare and I realize that I have very different feelings about it now. I love that Oliver gets to be with other kids and do neat things every day. I probably wouldn't be nearly as stimulating and entertaining for him if I were a stay at home mom. At least I would really have to step up my game and figure out activities and play dates every day and I am WAY too lazy for that. I also no longer worry that he will forget me, or like Margaret more. I understand that I am not the ONLY person in his life, and he can like others and still love me. And there is one thing that I have that no one else has, the almighty boob. I am still breastfeeding Oliver on a regular basis and that role can't be supplanted. 
   The other neat result of daycare is my fondness for Margaret. Since I go there at lunch to nurse Oliver, I see her a lot and we chat about things. She is very knowledgeable about children, was trained as a midwife and is generally a very down to earth hippy-type like me. She is kind and thoughtful and I know she genuinely cares about Oliver and is happy to see him every day. I look forward to seeing her too and feel very lucky to have such a person filling that role in Oliver's life. 

How long has it been?

   I am officially the worst blogger ever. I kept meaning to write a new post, and here it is like four months later? Time sure flies when you have an infant. So here is a whirlwind catch up post on Oliver. He is now almost SEVEN months old! At his last weigh in he was 19 pounds. Still bald. Eating solids. Sitting up on his own. Still not sleeping through the night. But most importantly, he is a really happy dude. Just look at him in this bin! How is it possible to be that happy in a bin? It is my firm goal to write a couple posts about some of the things we have done in the past few months. Specifically: eating new foods, traveling, and daycare. 
Life with Oliver is super fun!

Swimming!!! Well, kinda...

Ready to swim!

Oliver's first trip to the pool! Well, to be specific, we were at the children's wading pool that is a maximum of 12 inches deep. We were invited to a birthday party for a 2 year old and we thought it would be a great opportunity to see how the little man would react to cool water on a hot day. The answer? Not so well. We got one foot in and he cried. Probably shouldn't have bothered to apply all that sun screen before we took our "dip." But the morning wasn't a total lost cause, we got to put him in his adorable baby swim trunks!

This is about as far as we got

Easan was chosen to hold the "babies"
for the birthday girl. What a handsome daddy!

That ankle dip was tiring!

2 Months Old!

Feeling patriotic on the 4th. America!

   Oliver is two months old! I can't believe it. My tiny baby is becoming a bigger baby! I can't believe how the time flies. He has chubby cheeks, and a tiny little double chin. His thighs are getting rolls, his elbows gaining dimples and even his wrists are getting the little fold of fat. He is showing his personality by smiling and laughing. 
   He is becoming more mobile, he can turn himself in a circle by kicking his legs in the air and inching around on his back. But I think his favorite activity by far is changing table kicks. It is the most adorable site. You take off his diaper and he's off! He kicks furiously and almost always pees on something. The peeing is probably his favorite because it always makes him laugh. That is probably going to be a problem later. 

Laying on his tummy helps with gas.

   Everyone asks how he is sleeping. I feel like it could be a lot worse. He is sleeping for longer stretches at night, but not completely through the night yet. The most he has slept at once is about five hours but the usual night time routine is sleep about four to five hours, wake up for a feeding then sleep three to fours more hours. I am still pretty tired, but Easan helps me out a lot by letting me sleep in on weekends and covering me for naps. 
   I went back to work this week, but I have the little man with me. I either work from home or bring him to the office. It was an interesting transition and I definitely don't have all the kinks worked out yet. I have a little bouncy seat and an activity gym for him in my office, and he seems content falling asleep there. I guess I just need to own it and not feel like I am constantly going to disturb everyone if he makes the slightest peep. Luckily he isn't too loud and I try to keep him home if he is having a fussy day and take advantage of the good days. We will get it figured out and it is slow during the summer at work anyway.

DIAPERS!!!

We've been using cloth diapers and although they are saving us money, they are requiring a lot of loads of laundry. The lazy side of me wonders how long I will continue to use them when disposables are so easy. But while I am still at home on maternity leave doing my daily load of diapers and hanging them to dry in the sun has me feeling seriously pastoral. Who would have thought the daily load of diapers would be so much fun? 

New Mom Neurosis

    During my trek through pregnancy and the first month of being a mom (yes, little man is four weeks old!) I have received volumes of advice and anecdotes from my many friends and family members. I have listened patiently to everyone's input and tried to give each opinion some consideration or at least an attempt to understand where they come from. Being new at this, I am cautious to form any strong opinions knowing that they could immediately go wrong. In the many months of preparation and pregnancy I can officially say that my favorite piece of advice and the one that has rang true for me is from my good friend Liz. Liz and her husband Brad were friends of ours before they had kids, then when their first daughter Scarlet came along they became those friends who have the kid you want to have. Scarlet was (and still is) such a doll, so cute and fun and good. Easan and I marveled at how awesome she was and at one point I asked Liz how she did it. Liz said "It's not that complicated, you get what you put in, you put in calm, you get calm. You put in crazy, you get crazy." I have remembered that advice ever since and in the last four weeks of being a new mom I have made it my mantra. 
    There is something about being a new mom that makes you a little bit crazy. I am sure the hormones have something to do with it. I am a pretty calm and rational person, but I have been feeling some of the crazy creeping up on me so I decided to write this blog post about the neurosis that have accompanied my first month as a mom. Maybe venting my anxiety will make it a little less frightening inside my own head. 
   I am furiously in love with my baby. Oliver has become my everything, and I cannot imagine a more amazing little being. But with this insane love comes an insane fear, that some how he is going to be taken away from me. I feel as if I am too lucky to have him, and that he cannot last long. He is just too good to be true. My rational mind tells me this is crazy and that I have no reason to fear this. But the stronger crazy new mom side of my brain is doing a constant running tally of all the things I have read or been told to watch out for. Offender number one is the giant looming specter of SIDS. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. This terrifying anagram can actually encompass any unexplained death of an infant under the age of one. Sometimes they get smothered in their sleep by getting caught in their bedding or sometimes their heart stops for no reason while sleeping. It is always without warning. Although SIDS happens enough to be a recognized threat, it is still very rare. So rare that I shouldn't even allow it to scare me. But it does. Every single day. I find myself thinking about how horrible it would be to find his lifeless body in his crib one morning, or how to call my parents to tell them that Oliver is no longer with us. Sounds crazy right? I know it does, yet still I do it, all the time. I won't go into all the crazy scenarios that run through my brain, because there are a lot of them, and they are all completely unlikely and completely pointless for me to worry about. 

The most precious...

   So what do I do? Is this "normal" for me to feel this way? Some people would say that I am jinxing myself to talk about it, but I don't agree. I feel like the more that I examine it, the less power it has over me. The less possibility it has statistically to occur. I don't know what statistics have to do with this, but I feel like vocalizing my irrational fears will lower the probability of any of them happening. As if they are some kind of monster that lives and grows inside my head and by speaking about them they deflate and look stupid. I write this in the hope that it is enough. That I can use my mantra from my friend Liz to keep the crazy down to a manageable level. Deflate the giant specter of the unknown to a shriveled and basically impossible statistic that has absolutely no ability to touch my sweet little man. Remove all trace of irrational loony tune fears so that all I put into my child is calm and mellow good vibrations. Stop feeling guilty for feeling so much love, because being filled with love for your child is not a punishable offense. That is my hope. I guess now all I can do is wait and see if it works. 

Major Milestones

Oliver at two days old, barely awake.

   Oliver is almost two weeks old and I find myself brimming with pride over some funny little things. First is his prowess at breast feeding. This may not be impressive to anyone else, many of you might think, "he's a baby, that's what he's supposed to do..." But breast feeding isn't necessarily something that comes easily to all babies and all moms. Some babies get it right off the bat, and some have troubles. Oliver had some trouble at first for a few reasons. First of all, he had a more than normal amount of jaundice after he was born. All babies are born with a small amount of jaundice, in the womb the placenta does the job of removing old red blood cells for the baby, and after they are born their liver must take over, and it takes a few days to get the levels under control. Perfectly normal and not at all harmful. However for some babies their levels are higher than normal and in the worst case scenario they go under special blue lights to break down the blood cells through photo therapy. Oliver had a bruise on the top of his head from the delivery (sorry for 

Oliver at almost two weeks old,
looking suave

that little man!) As a result he had more red blood cells to break down making him more jaundiced than normal. He wasn't so bad that he had to go under the lights, but he did struggle with extreme sleepiness as a result (also a totally normal side effect.) This creates a major problem when trying to feed him because we couldn't wake him up to eat. Breastfeeding was basically not possible at that point because he wouldn't wake up to do the work to get the food, so I ended up using a breast pump to get him the necessary food and we also supplemented with a little formula. I wasn't really happy about having to give him formula, but the nurses explained to me that the best way to get him over the jaundice is to help him pee and poo as much as possible. The broken down blood cells would come out in his waste and help to lower his bilirubin levels. So of course, you do what your baby needs. Luckily we only had to supplement him for a few days until my milk came in. The jaundice started to lighten up after about four or five days and Oliver started to be more awake. Once he was more awake, he took to eating like a little shark, his appetite has been really healthy ever since and he is already two ounces over his birth weight! I may be over analyzing him, but I am pretty sure I can see his cheeks already getting chubbier and a little double chin starting to develop! I am so excited because I absolutely LOVE chubby babies. 
  

This face says it all!

   The other major milestones that we have hit may only be funny to me, and I am not sure why I am proud of them. My family has always been amused by poop and fart jokes and having a baby acquaints you with poop, pee, puke and farts on a daily basis. There are many things I have heard about having a baby boy, and I think all of them have come true in the first two weeks. I couldn't be more pleased to be pooped on. People have all told me to expect golden showers. Not that I didn't believe them, I guess I just didn't realize how often it could happen. Everyone told me to watch the cold air hitting his little weiner when I took off his diaper, that it would make him pee right away. Totally true, and it happens almost every time I change his diaper. He peed on me four times in two days! Then this morning, he peed up in the air all over his own face! The look of confusion he got was priceless. I know this is a strange thing to be proud about, but for some reason the fact that my little boy is living up to some of the earliest expectations of his gender fills me with motherly joy. 

And then there was Oliver

How quickly things change...

My last post seems like ages ago, as you can see there is a good reason for that! Welcome to the world Mr. Punch, or more officially Mr. Oliver William Selvan!

Just as I had been contemplating writing a blog post about how impatient I was getting for Punch to be born and my efforts to induce labor naturally (eating jalapenos, talking three walks a day, incessant bouncing on the yoga ball...) Cinco de Mayo rolled around and with it a busy Saturday. We had two standing invites: my friend was hosting a Kentucky Derby party and another group of friends were having margaritas and nachos for Cinco de Mayo. I was sick and tired of my fruitless efforts to make myself go into labor and decided that a busy day with friends was just what I needed to take my mind off being 39 weeks pregnant with swollen feet the size of Easter hams. The weather was absolutely beautiful and Easan and I drove around in his Jeep Wrangler with the top off all day. I refer to the car as his Monster Truck because it has huge tires on it and makes a healthy amount of noise. All day I was secretly hoping that the bumpy Jeep rides and full schedule of events would help me go into labor, but I wasn't going to voice my hopes for fear that I would jinx myself and nothing would happen. The day was excellent, the Derby party was filled with mint juleps and great hats and I went to bed around ten thinking all was normal. 

12:00 am, I wake up to use the bathroom and wonder if my water has broken. I start having pains, but they are coupled with some serious bathroom action and I was pretty sure that the nachos might have given me some kind of stomach bug. I thought that it would pass eventually and I could get back to sleep. It is funny to me that after an entire week of trying to induce labor, I didn't recognize it when I was in the thick of it. I guess I was thinking that I would have the gradual labor that all the books and birth classes told me to expect. For those of you not familiar with child birth, the SOP of labor that I was lead to expect was six to twelve hours of early labor, starting with light cramp-like pains 20-30 minutes apart that gradually get stronger and faster. They tell you to practice pain management techniques such as breathing and various positions and movements that help you deal with it. They advise you to eat and distract yourself with movies or card games to pass the time. You aren't supposed to even think about the hospital until your water breaks or your contractions are five minutes apart and one minute long. For me, the pains (that didn't exist until I awoke at midnight) started at five minutes apart and one minute long. And they really hurt.

I dealt with that, persisting in the notion that I had a stomach bug, for about three hours. When I started puking, I decided that I should at least call the doctor to ask for a professional opinion. She advised that I come in to the hospital and they would check me out and see if I was in labor. I woke Easan and we went across the street to the ER (my house is literally across the street from the hospital, very convenient.) By this point, I was in so much pain that I was having trouble functioning, I couldn't walk through the contractions, I couldn't talk or think to answer the questions that the ER staff was asking me. All I could do was clutch something and grit my teeth and wait for it to pass. We got up to the labor and delivery ward and they put us in a room to get us started. There was no question to them that I was in labor and at that point I made a pretty serious decision. Throughout my entire pregnancy I had wanted to do a totally natural child birth. Everything I read indicated that it was the best choice for the welfare of the baby and mother and that with coaching and pain management techniques it could be an amazing and rewarding (but challenging) experience. I was determined to try my best to do it without pain meds or induction drugs. Perhaps if my labor had been the way I had been told to expect, I could have weathered the storm but at that point, I had just about reached my max. My pain was at a 9 out of 10 on the pain scale, I couldn't get any relief from changing positions and I had little relief in between contractions. I had been standing for the last four hours because that was the only position that wasn't excruciating and I was exhausted from it. I decided that I wanted the epidural. Easan did everything he was supposed to do, ask me firmly if I was sure I wanted this,  reminding me that it could lead to other interventions. I was positive that if I was to gain any control over my experience I needed the epidural. I wasn't disappointed, the drugs allowed us to get a few hours rest before the hard work began.

Overall, I was in labor for just under twelve hours. Punch was born at 10:17am. Like we knew it would, the epidural lightened up my contractions and I ended up pushing for almost two hours. But it was in relatively little pain and I was very calm and able to enjoy the experience. The medical staff tried to get me to agree to some Pitocin (an induction drug that makes contractions stronger to speed up labor) but I maintained my stance that I wanted to avoid it if at all possible. They didn't force me and we got through just fine. Punchy came into this world 6 pounds 13 ounces, 20.5 inches long with a decent amount of blonde hair. Easan cried like a baby and so did his dad. It was very sweet. We named him Oliver William, Oliver after Easan's Grandfather and William after my father.

Oliver ready to leave the hospital,
his pants are a little big on him!

Who is Punchy?

I realize that most people don't know the reason behind the name of my blog. Meet Punchy:

This is when he was just ten weeks old. We went in for our first appointment to hear his heart beat. Since this is our first baby, we were pretty excited about it and Easan left work to come to the appointment with me. The doctor couldn't find his heart beat with the doppler since he was still really small, so she did a quick and clandestine sonogram. We couldn't have been more thrilled. There he was, on the screen, the reality of the situation hit both of us, and I think Easan teared up a little. 

As we stared at the very first images of our baby (we didn't know it was a he or she yet) he started moving. He bounced up and down and threw a few punches. From that point on he was named Punchy. It has stuck ever since.

This is him at 20 weeks, when we found out he is a boy. I will spare you the fetal weiner images, I would hate to have him accuse me of embarrassing him before he was even born. This was a really exciting appointment to see how much bigger he had gotten and to have our suspicions confirmed. I had thought all along that he was a boy, and because of that feeling I had to find out his gender because if I had been wrong the entire time and Punchy came out a girl, I would feel like a total putz. 


So now, Punch is 38 weeks old, nine and a half months. That may confuse people because the common belief is that pregnancy is 9 months long. Not so my friends, pregnancy is right about 40 weeks, and if we all do our math, that is actually ten months. So, without further ado, I am going to do something I have been excited about since the beginning. I am going to post the monthly belly pictures. I always loved looking at the progression when my friends did this, so I started taking belly pics at 4 months right about when I started showing. I wore the same shirt every time to try to make comparison easier. Check it out!

4 Months

                                                                           5 Months

6 Months

7 Months

8 Months

9.5 Months

Welcome to Punchy Love

  My first blog post! I never thought I would be into blogging. I enjoy reading them and think they are a neat way to chronicle interest and activities, but never thought I would have the time or patience to do it myself. Then I got pregnant and somehow all things have changed. I am now nine and a half months pregnant and have the desire to document and preserve these amazing times mostly for myself and if anyone wants to follow along with me, that's great too.
  I probably should have started blogging nine months ago because a lot has happened and I feel the need to play catch up. Instead I am just going to post about my favorite projects that have come from my journey to motherhood, and the feelings that have gone along with it. Soon we will have a new little person to occupy the posts of this blog. In the mean time, here are some of the topics that I have mulling around in my hormone addled brain: 

• Getting pregnant 
• Fish-tatos - the smells of being pregnant
• The baby room - probably the most thought I ever put into one room
• There's another human inside me and it's a boy!
• Why are my feet getting so huge? And other physical maladies.

  Those are just a few of the post-worthy ideas I have wanted to write about so I can remember what the last nine months have included. First things first, check out the neat maternity pics my good friend Beth took of me and my husband Easan. These were almost a month ago and I am much bigger now. Taken at the family vineyard right before our baby shower. Enjoy!