Baby's Got a Brand New Tongue!

Yesterday morning we got a call from Alf's office; there'd been a cancellation and they slipped us in for a 2:30 appointment so we wouldn't have to make a separate trip down to Machias on Friday (we were already making the hour-long trip far too many times this week - four, not counting Friday). After swinging by school and taking Olive around to meet the folks there (three people thought she was a boy, as I'd dressed her in her pale yellow otter onesie; there are shades of blue in the otter's fur, so of course she was looking like a boy! My favorite, though, is the assumption that comes from her having so little hair. I mean, obviously girl babies have hair, boys do not. Honest mistake.), we grabbed Zoe from school a little bit early, and zipped down Machias way.

The nurse who took her measurements gushed over her perfect head and how she should be the next Gerber Baby (a comment my own mother got about me), that we needed to send her picture to Parents magazine or some such nonesense. Sure, it's a compliment, but never would we stoop to such exploitation; first that, then the pageant scene...no, thank you.
She'd gained a whopping two pounds since her visit a month ago, so she's all set in that department. I was eager to raise the issue of the frenulum breve with Alf because the sooner it's done, the better. He was able to perform the procedure right then and there, which was a relief. I've been wanting to start nursing more, both for the ease and simplicity of it, and the bonding that comes with it. He brought in with him an entourage made up of interns, assistants, and Dr. Prabakaran, her original pediatrician who has the personality of a bath mat. Including Olive, there were nine people in the little room. Alf asked me to come and hold her head still while the staff gathered aroud Alf and his snippers. I cringed as he went in with the numbing agent, swabbing her chin and mouth; she was already getting agitated. I had to look away when I saw the instrument descend on her little, wailing mouth, and the tears welled up in my eyes. The harder she cried, the less I was able to contain myself. At one point, I felt a tear make its way down my face, neck, and stomach, until it stopped, absorbed by the waist of my jeans. Looking back, I saw Zoe, also in tears, being comforted by the ever-composed Rob. He should've been the one holding her head. When it was over, they handed her to me so she could nurse, as that would help stop the little bleeding there was. How horrible it was to look into her mouth at the sight of blood. The bleeding stopped very quickly, and she soon calmed down. In the car afterwards, Zoe reported on several appearances of the newly elongated tongue - the better to lick ice cream with, I say!

Whoops

I was wrong today. Rob said he didn't question me because I'm "usually right". Thanks, Rob. The other day we got a call from the pediatrician at Alf's office to tell us that he'd be out of the office for our scheduled appointment next Monday and would we like to reschedule? Absolutely. They said they could put us in on Friday, and I assumed they meant this Friday, as in today. Rob had understood it correctly - as next Friday, but, as they never specified the date, we went today. Alf was on vacay, as it turned out, so we'll go back next Friday, as they had us in the appointment book. No way was I going to throw our gal into the hands of the unnamed pediatrician. The thing is, Olive has what is known as frenulum breve, or tongue-tie. Being no stranger to frenulum issues of my own, I know that action needs to be taken (in the 4th grade, I went under the knife for a frenectomy, wherein the thin tissue connecting the skin of my top gums to my inner upper lip was snipped and stitched, halting the widening of the gap between my front teeth - the bain of my childhood existence; that same year I went through with a black pen and gave each of my teeth-bearing classmates matching gaps in their yearbook pictures so I wouldn't be alone. Apparently, whenever I smiled, that wretched frenulum somehow caused my front teeth to drift farther and farther apart. An atrocity, to say the least, and action had to be taken). Olive's conundrum involves another sort of oral frenulum: the skin that connects her tongue to the bottom of her mouth. It ends just short of the tip of her tongue, which has resulted in difficulties nursing. I pump and bottle-feed her almost exclusively, nursing only on the go when a bottle hasn't been prepared ahead of time. Not only is she a poor and sloppy nurser, I guessed correctly that the tongue-tie can lead to speech problems when she begins to talk. Not interested. Snipping of the frenulum, if a parent chooses this, should be done as early as possible, when the skin is thinnest, so as to cause minimal pain. The last thing I want is to inflict any pain on our gal; she's undergone only a light prick of the foot while in the hospital, and we've chosen to forgo all vaccines for her, so shots will not be common occurances in her future. At any rate, we've been talking about what to do about this, and wanted to consult Alf for his expert opinion. It'll just have to wait until next week.

On the art front, I've resumed work on a book I began illustrating for a client-turned-friend, Bryan Fuller, over a year ago. I decided to put the paid work ahead of the work I'm doing for our own books; while Rob's housework and superb parenting are greatly appreciated, they do not pay the bills. Plus, Bryan has been wonderfully patient with me when I've had to put the project on hold while I summered in Alaska, then worked two jobs and took college classes on top of my full-time teaching schedule. I owe him this. His story, Sage, The Sea Lion Who Lost Her Roar, is a tale about a young sea lion coming into her own in the Galapagos Islands. Here is the illustration of the tortoise, done over the course of the last two days. Thank you, Rob, for taking on my laundry duties so that I could work more diligently. You're wonderful.

Two Months

Two months old already. It saddens me how quickly time passes now, even though I know exciting times are ahead. They'll come and go in no time, so I pray that each day takes its sweet, sweet time. Olive is growing so fast; tomorrow we go to see Alf for her 2 month check-up, and we're eager to see where she falls in the height and weight categories this time around.

New this week: Lots of smiling. Instead of the fleeting, accidental, just-experimenting-with-facial-muscles smiles that delighted us nevertheless, she's grinning with intent; sometimes I'll wake up in the night to her soft grunts letting us know it's time for her sodden diaper to be removed or her belly to be refilled, I'll look over at her and see her swaying her perfectly round little head from side to side, wide-eyed and grinning, happy that I'm awake, too. She now has a partner with whom to spend the 4 o'clock hour, and this pleases her to no end. I'm still not able to get much smiling on camera. This is a gal who knows when she's really being watched (even in the womb, she'd scoot away so as not to let the midwives get a good handle on her position or her heartbeat), and will focus on other things. When we're in her face acting absurd and ridiculous as parents are wont to do, she'll look everywhere else to avoid making eye contact. Very serious, she is.

Upping the milk consumption. Our bottles hold seven ounces safely, before the no-fill line, and this had been the perfect amount to satisfy her. In the past few days, however, she'll suck down the contents and will continue to vigorously suck on the empty nipple. Now she's taking between eight and nine ounces at a feeding, so I have little doubt that at tomorrow's pediatrician appointment, she'll be tipping the scales past eleven pounds. Her head now is like the full moon - a perfect circle.

Here are the most recent shots from last night's bath and today:

Blessing for Anne

Yesterday a blessing was held for our friend, Anne, who is due at the end of this month (though she most likely won't last that long). I had the honor of transporting the Lady of the Hour to the site of the blessing, at Rachel Bell's house at Tide Mill Farm. She and her husband, Sam, and three children live in a gorgeous home that Sam built on an extensive farm that sits on a lovely piece of land on Cobscook Bay in Edmunds, ME. Anne, Olive, and I arrived fashionably late, as Anne was taking her time with a bowl of green curry when I arrived to pick her up. A blessing, for those unaware, is a gathering of women to celebrate and honor a woman about to give birth. Anne gave me a blessing in January, and it was a wonderful experience. The plan was for Anne, and anyone else interested, to take at dip into the frigid Cobscook waters. When I initially heard of this, I was gung-ho, always loving to be in the water, but, as the weather was less than favorable - overcast, sprinkly, and in the lower 50s - and I've been getting over some unpleasant respiratory business, I sat it out (one of only four adults who didn't take the plunge). I was a little bit sorry that I didn't go in, but our friend Amy suggested that we do it again when they throw a going-away party for us when we leave Maine in a couple of months. Good deal.
Darwin, the darling son of Anne's friend, Choe. He was fascinated by Olive, but who isn't?
That's Anne there in the purple towel in the middle. Molly, down in the lower left, was among the few of us who opted out of the dip.

Afterwards, we congregated inside in a circle, Anne with her feet soaking in a bowl of water and fresh herbs. Amy presented her with a crown of vines and spring buds. She looked beautiful, and I regrettably neglected to get a picture of her. Rachel passed around a basket of birch bark scraps for us to write blessings for her, then we passed around a nest and wove the scraps into the nest. We went around the circle and gave our women lineages while holding a pot of burning lavender: "I am Heather, mother of Olive, daughter of Debbie, granddaughter of Nell and Betty, great-granddaughter of Alice." It was great to hear the names of all of the women from whom we descended. Then we ate - lots of delicious food - grain salads, greens, strawberries and chocolate, baked brie in phyllo with cranberries and walnuts, chips and salsa, pita and tabbouleh, chocolate chips and raw almonds - wonderful. Olive was a perfect angel the entire time, staying away for much of it and taking it all in and not fussing once. Here she is as we prepared to head back home, as well as some shots of her and Amy's daughter, Cora.

Running Update

Apparently the 2 miles I ran last Tuesday were an example of too much, too soon; that night I developed some soreness in my lung area which led to a sore throat for several days, then a nasty, croupy nighttime cough. I've been wanting to keep it up and get back to some higher mileage runs, but I'm having to wait till this clears up, whenever that may be. I put together the jogging stroller, and these gorgeous days are beckoning me to bring out Olive to make the runs even more enjoyable.

7 Weeks

Yesterday Olive was 7 weeks old. Each week passes as though it's three days, not seven, making our time with her seem like it's been only three weeks. This doesn't bode well for the future.

The other day, the girl at the health food store - who saw Olive for the first time when she helped me load a 50-lb bag of short-grain brown rice into the car the day we left the hospital - noted that she had my nose. I'd noticed that right off the bat, but was impressed that someone else could also see the resemblance. So I guess she'll have my nose - Gi-Gi's nose - a trait I'm proud to have passed on to her. She's looking more and more blue-eyed as of late. Also, her peepers are wide open, unlike my slits-for-eyes when I was a baby; those are from Rob, all the way.

Her behavior outside of the house is remarkable; on Saturday she accompanied me on errands to the hardware store, health food store, and grocery store, without so much as a peep, then sat through a good hour and a half's worth loud middle and high school music at the Washington County Music Festival (Rob was lending his trombone talents to the jazz band), needing only a little bit of bouncing to keep her in good spirits. On Sunday she attended two of Zoe's basketball games as part of a tournament (they were the runners up, losing the championship game by only two points), and was once again the picture of perfection; she saves her outbursts for the homefront, like I did for 95% of my childhood. At least she knows how to contain it around company.


She's steadily gaining weight; we haven't had her weight checked in a few weeks, but given the amount she's consuming - 7-8 ounces 5-6 times a day (35-48 ounces) - she's on the fast track to outgrowing her newborn-sized clothing. I read somewhere that a baby ought to be taking in at least 24 ounces a day - one ounce for every hour; perhaps that's wrong, but she seems to be getting more than her fair share, but she wears it well, to use a Rod Stewartism. Nothing beats a fat, bald baby.

6 Weeks

Here are some photos from Sunday's print-taking session with Buggy. She wasn't as pleased with the handprinting as she was with the subsequent bath.
We also dyed Easter eggs using only natural sources (onion skins, blueberries, spinach, Granny Smith apple peels, carrots, orange peel, coltsfoot we found growing beside the house, and beets. Some were successful, others not). To me they resemble a collection of dinosaur eggs. We're already looking forward to next Easter when we can try out some more produce as egg dye.

I got a little behind with blogging this past week because we were without internet and telephone since last Tuesday (a little mishap with a wire that was snapped during Zoe's bedroom rearranging tirade; to say she's like a bull in a china shop is like saying that I sort of like R.E.M.). But no matter; it's now fixed, and I quite enjoyed the near-week of no phone and internet - like a vacation in the woods. It made me decide that once a week we should turn off the ringer on the phone and abstain from internet use just to get away from it.

Today I'm going running for the first time in a long while. I'd make an effort to jog up to our house if I was returning from our friend Alice's, who lives a few blocks away and down a considerable hill, up until my 8th month of pregnancy just to keep in the habit. Today, though, I'm returning to my old hobby; the shorts are on and as soon as Rob returns from picking up Zoe from school, I'll head out into the sunshine and see how far my body lets me go...

Oh, and Buggy turned 6 weeks old yesterday.