Apology

I used to ask people "When are you gonna have another?". That is the rudest questions EVER. I am sooo super uninterested in having another child right now. And I despise anyone who parts their lips to ask that question to me. So to the people I asked that: I apologize.

The First 48

The good news is Mason is home and we're adjusting. The bad news is we're adjusting to him. If I want to eat and he's hungry, guess who wins? If we are in a deep slumber at 3 a.m. and he wants to get up, guess who wins? If I want to talk on the phone or check email and he's "crying", guess who wins? So the unofficial score is Mason-more, Pat and Jan-less. He's winning, but hopefully not for long. He's a pretty easy going baby, thus far. (Knock on wood). What get hims the most riled up is a dirty diaper. Luckily, the hospital could not give him undivided attention, so he's self sufficient. He generally just wakes up and will lie in his bassinet.  We'll hear his lips smacking or a small coo and know that he needs something. I am becoming a bit nutty due to my new sleep schedule. The dreams are bizarre because I am in and out of consciousness. Last night Pat randomly asked me for a bowl as he was going to sleep, he too is nutty. I can only imagine that it will get nuttier. I think it's best that I sign off now and go catch a few winks before You Know Who makes a demand.

24/7 365

So this time tomorrow I'll be a full time mommy. Well actually maybe in twelve hours give or take a couple. It's surreal. You expect to go home with your baby when you plan your pregnancy out in your head. So, I had planned that part. I'd have contractions, we'd pack up, there would be some heavy breathing and a couple of pushes, Pat would cut the umbilical cord, they would discharge us, and we would go home as a family. All in a matter of three days. Wrong. We have waited fifty days and now the time has come.  I'm not scared. It's kinda like the first day of kindergarten. You know how you wait all summer of what to expect? You've visited the school, bought your backpack, met your teachers; however, you still need to see for yourself. So if you have asked me if I'm ready and I said "Sure", just think about how a five year old would respond on August 19th if you asked if they were ready for kindergarten. We're prepared. We're ready,  just anxious to jump into full time parenting.

Deuces

The glow of your skin. The flutters in your belly. The week by week inching out of your belly. Ahhhhh...pregnancy. I have heard women say they miss being pregnant. I'm baffled. 'Cause I do not miss it. I don't miss the constant doctor visits. I don't miss my middle finger that just stopped functioning and started hurting continuously. I don't miss my feet that began to swell to the point where I had to go buy new shoes. I don't miss the excessive tiredness. I just don't miss being pregnant. I feel like a new woman now that I am not preggers. I can see the lower half of my body. I don't need a nap after work (however, this will soon change), I can wear my old shoes. My middle finger works again. I can dance...or try to at least. It's great. So, until we meet again I'm happily throwing up the deuces to pregnancy. One of ya'll can go on and have it.

Santa called today

Well, it wasn't really Santa, but we got "the call" this morning. Dr. Tran said they wanted me to sign the consent for circumcision today. What does that mean?  Well... waaaaay back in November I asked when he'd be circumcised, and they said that's one of the last things they will do before he'll go home. So, Mason is getting ready to come home full time. They typically say your baby will come home near your due date. But as many of us know, Mason does what he wants when he wants. Hence the reason I'm not pregnant and pigging out this Christmas. I am assuming he wants to be home. Just like the other morning he yanked his feeding tube out. Although they put it back in they ended up taking it out that same day. I think Mason made that decision, not the medical team. And now he wants to come home. So, all we have to do is pray that no sudden setback arises, and we'll have us a baby to usher in the new year. Guess the only bottles I'm popping on New Year's will be filled with milk <insert deep sigh here>.

Funny Guy

Mason is a funny little dude. He's doing really well. Of course he's out of the isolete. So his latest challenge has been to take his meals from the bottle. For the most part he's hitting the bottle (hehehe) well. Sometimes if he is too pooped, however, they will give him the tube. The nurses had been telling us that he was "telling" them he wanted the bottle. Mason is generally a quiet fella, so we were curious what that meant. Well, we got to experience that today. Once he woke up he was raising a ruckus and kept putting his hands in his mouth. His ruckus was just making his cute little semi-cry, it's more cute and funny than pitiful. Thus meaning I look at him and giggle instead of rushing to pacify him. So, I fed him. A couple of times he rejected me which consisted of not  swallowing and just letting a little waterfall of my precious milk cascade down his chin. But eventually he polished off most of the 40milliters. The funniest part that made mom and dad laugh was his final sip. Once I pulled the bottle out of his motch he raised his tongue to the roof of his mouth and made a smacking sound, as if to say "now that was some good stuff". Now the funniest/oddest thing he does is his "I'm not happy with you" look. Whenever he is cranky/fed up/agitated he gets red. He actually takes on a red undertone. RED! It's crazy because it comes on so quickly. Pat and I will just look in amazement that he turns red.  I guess he's a lil red bone after all because Pat wanted a brown baby. That's what he gets!

Weight a second

For starters, Mason's birth weight has been debated. When he was born the folks in the operating room told me two and a half pounds. However, later that day we were informed it was 2lbs 5.5oz. Yet, when people told us again they said 2lbs 6oz. (I believe this is rounded from the previously stated weight) Then, when I was looking at his info on his isolete 2lbs 9oz was crossed out. We finally discovered his true weight is the 2lbs 5.5oz. Whew. I even get confused when folks now. But none of that matters anymore. 'Cause my lil man is movin on up. First, he hit the weight that helped him get out of the isolete. That was either 1600 or 1700 grams. Too bad I can't recall what that translates to in pounds. Last night when Pat and I were there we saw him get assessed. He weighed in at 4lbs! He has some cheeks now. On both ends! Well...maybe not both ends. (Side note- if you want a good laugh look at a preemie tooshie). Moral of the story is, we don't care too much about what he weighed at birth. And the way he chugged his bottle down for me today, he's gonna be gaining some more! Speaking of bottles, Young Mr. Walton took 3 bottles today out of his six feedings. How much is in a bottle you ask? Thirty six milliliters or a little over an ounce. And if you know what an ounce is (think a packet of BBQ sauce from Bo'Jangles) that is too cute. So I'll keep pumping and he'll keep gaining (and hopefully I'll keep losing).

Revelations

I have made profound revelations in the past five weeks. One, I had too much time on my hands before motherhood. I don't know what I was doing. Now, I am on a schedule, which I am sure will change once he comes home. Nonetheless, this schedule has proven that I should have been in a club, volunteering, having a hobby. Something. I don't know what I have been doing since I finished school. Whatever it was, it was not too productive. Two, what was on my mind before Mason? I'm sure he would be on my mind despite being in the hospital, but it's nonstop now. Leading me to question, what did I wake up thinking about before this? Was I so egotistical that it was all about me and I didn't know? No way, I was always thinking. Right? Was I not using my thoughts to ponder meaningful world issues like how to lower my carbon footprint or is Tupac alive? I'm either thinking about him or what I'll do with him. Will I let him eat Burger King? Will I allow him to play football?  Well, I now have an agenda so no more idle time on these hands, nor will I sit around googling "Kim Kardashians butt real". I have real things to do and real issues to think about.

So Amazing

I keep playing November 5th back in my head, and I can only come up with the word "amazing". Not just pixie dust amazing, but speechless dumbfounded "say whaaaaaat" amazing. The first amazing thing is that I'm a mama! I'M A MAMA?!?!? I'm responsible for someone. He is dependent on me. I have to have a babysitter to go out. I have to choose Huggies over Chipotle. A mama! Amazing. Amazing that I wake up from my wonderful slumber to pump in the middle of the night. 'Cause I loves my sleep. Now, when you have preemie folks come out of hiding to tell their preemie story. After listening to some of those stories, we have an amazing preemie. He has had little setbacks...if you want to even call jaundice a setback. It's amazing he was born at 30 weeks, but was breathing on his own so early. Really, he's just small. Everything else with him is fine. (Thank God!) We're working on bottle feeding right now, and his isolete temperature is continually dropping, so he'll be outta there soon. It's amazing that he has a humor (I think). How else can you explain the wet diaper I went to change, looked at him in awe for a moment, then had a poopy diaper? And it's amazing he has a personality (maybe). He has been working so hard this week on bottle feed. Even taking the entire 30 something milliliters a few times, and half the bottle other times. Then bam...he decides other day and takes 5ml for the whole day! I think he knows he has the feeding tube to fall back on. And speaking of feeding tube, he pulled it out. Just the satisfaction, I believe. It's all been amazing. Truly amazing.

I make this look easy

Why didn't the folks with kids tell me this whole pregnancy/birth/motherhood thing was so easy? No morning sickness. No odd cravings. No dilating 10 centimeters. No pushing. No waking up in the middle of the night. No changing diapers every hour. I do wish I had gone the whole nine months. I wanted my belly button to pop out completely. Plus,  it would have made things much easier. And who doesn't want to bring their new baby home? Naturally, we'd love to have him here now. But I guess we're eating up these last few moments as semi-single/semi-parents. We have one foot in the world of getting home at 3am and the other foot in the hospital. It's weird. But in some ways everyone should get to transition into the world parenthood. It would be like getting your permit. (But having a permit to parent is another blog!) I know for the next child, assuming I have another, we will be in shock. Taking it home with us days after birth! Having to be prepared for the arrival. Whew! I can't imagine what will be in that blog. But in the meantime...I'm just gonna make this look easy!

rANdOM

Here are a few thoughts that wouldn't make a decent entry on its own.

1) You have no control in pregnancy. I have learned not to say what I want. For starters, I stated early on that I did not want a c-section. Ka-powee! Secondly, I told Pat "I can't have this baby in 2010, I'm not prepared" Ka-powee! Next, "I don't want my baby born at Duke.", SMH. Ka-powee.
2) What are the odds that Mason should get a new roomy yesterday...named Mason?
3) Everyone says "That's a great name" when we tell them our child's name. I took it as a compliment in the beginning. Now, I feel pressured. I have to make sure that my next child (assuming I have another) has an equally great name. And I think it's the Jett part that sets it off. So should all our kids have a funky middle name? And what are some other funky noun type names? Apple (Gwenyth Paltrow's kid)? Scout (Bruce & Demi's)?
4) I looked like crap. Everyone knew, except me. I knew I was pregnant and not the fox you all are used to seeing. But it is amazing how the truth comes out now. Folks at work all thought I was miserable cause I looked so crappy. However, it it was not just work folk with these sentiments, folks outside of work too (Fuzzy and Eva!) I assure y'all I felt great throughout this pregnancy, I just looked like crap.
5) I understand how people become psycho-moms. You know those mamas who don't want their child to ride the school bus because there are no seat belts? Now I vow not to be that outrageous, but I can understand it. I closed the door to Mason's isolete (fancy word for incubator) just cause I smelled smoke in a visiting mother's clothes. And don't worry, I eventually opened the door.
6) I don't have a baby at home, yet I understand why "they" say you don't sleep when you have a baby. I've been trying to pump every 3 hours to simulate what my body would go through if MJW was here. I can't do it! I got up at 3 a.m. once. I've decided Pat will be doing early morning feedings while I get my rest. Besides, Mason will be introduced to a bottle before he comes home.
7) Kids are forever! I am...we... are responsible for Mason. I shake my head daily at kids thinking their parents should put down the cell phone and pick up a book. I SMH thinking they need to parent instead of just having kids. Now, I must parent. This is not Codie, a pup that can be left at home while I run out and get gas. You have to take 'em with you. Amazing.
8) Finally, I am a freaking slave to this pump. I swear I dreamed about that darn pump. And don't forget to pump one morning. You will wake up to a "pure-t" mess. (uhhhh....I would assume)