Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Owen
Owen Hunt Russell was born at 4:27 am on Thursday, October 9th, 2008. Ten pounds, three ounces; twenty-one inches long.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Cervical Suspense
We went to the doctor on 9/17 and she gave us the news that I was 1cm dilated and 50% effaced. She said the baby could come that night or in two weeks (which is when we knew the baby was probably coming anyway, so this wasn't really helping to give us more specifics). But the news got everyone all excited and thinking that we might have a September baby after all. I went to work after my appointment and had one of the most productive days of all time thinking that I might not be coming back the next day! (I think my keyboard was actually smoking from me typing so fast.) We went back to the doctor for an uneventful visit on 9/24. I declined to be checked, since it's rather unpleasant and because the baby will come when he comes! And while he still could be a September baby with these two days left, my feeling all along has been that he will join us in October.
So it looks like I will get to attend the all-day conference in Chapel Hill tomorrow that I signed up for months ago (everyone thought I was crazy) and hopefully get to celebrate Megan's birthday with her on Tuesday while watching the Biggest Loser at The Crunkleton. Of course, if that changes, you, dear readers, will be the first to know!
So it looks like I will get to attend the all-day conference in Chapel Hill tomorrow that I signed up for months ago (everyone thought I was crazy) and hopefully get to celebrate Megan's birthday with her on Tuesday while watching the Biggest Loser at The Crunkleton. Of course, if that changes, you, dear readers, will be the first to know!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Hormone Granger
Let me paint a picture for you.
In a dimly lit conference room, a dozen new and expecting parents sit in a circle. Each anxiously eyes a silver plastic doll and, following instructions emanating from a screen at the front of the room, occasionally leans down to blow into its tiny mouth. "Now give thirty presses on the baby's chest. One, two, three...." The parents do as they're told, and the syncopated pops and puffs of the dolls make it sound as if someone has just switched on the Everlasting Gobstopper machine from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. A nurse patrols the room, nodding with approval. This is the world we're living in these days.
It's serious business having a baby -- and I mean that in at least two ways, first in terms of the stuff. The sheer amount of equipment required to host a pooping enthusiast of this caliber is astonishing. But I also mean it figuratively. We've sat in rooms like the one described above and learned how to help our baby nurse if he has trouble on his own. We've learned how to work through the pain of labor with breathing, movement, and positive messages. And we've learned how to save our baby's life if he stops breathing or his heart stops beating. Of course, the seriousness of this business doesn't stand in the way of its often being hilarious. Just ask my wife, who spent a good part of last night's class laughing uncontrollably. Then she cried.
It all started in the portion of the class when we were required to respond to various emergency-type situations. Invariably, the right answer was 1) check the scene, 2) check the victim, 3) call for help, 4) check for breathing, and 5) administer CPR until help arrives. This all seemed simple enough to me, and most of the class shared my approach of repeating these steps like a broken record in response to each new emergency-type situation. Lauren, however, chose to read these scenarios with the kind of critical acuity I normally reserve for Renaissance poetry. For instance, one scenario had us responding to cries of help from a woman who was picnicking with her suddenly unwell baby. As the rest of us began to chant our five steps, Lauren interjected: "Well, the first thing you need to do is to determine whether that woman knows CPR and, if so, decide which of you is going to perform it." She cut to the core of the scenario's hidden complexity. Meanwhile, she wisely evaded my astonished glance to avoid cracking up. Another scenario had us responding to cries of help from two teenagers with an unwell friend on a hiking trail. Once again, Lauren found the loose end. As we chanted the five steps, she leaned over to me and whispered, "No way those teenagers are giving 911 a precise location. They have no idea where they are." Astute, if a little ungenerous to the hiking teenagers of the world.
Somewhere along the line, the seemingly endless repetition of the five steps coupled with the baffling that's-how-they-get-ya approach of my wife to CPR training made me chuckle. That's all it took; she lost it. Face buried in hands, body convulsing, all composure lost. I knew then we were headed up and down the same hormone roller coaster we've been on so many times over the past nine months. Something gets Lar going, and she enjoys a fit of uncontrollable laughter before dissolving into tears. Not sad tears, mind you, but not laughing tears either. It's as if she's experiencing every emotion at once, as if the levee has broken. It's one of the highlights of pregnancy and perhaps a useful metaphor for the experience as well.
The whole of pregnancy, at least from the humble perspective of the wing-man, is a laugh-cry. How else can one be expected to respond to the notion of creating a living being? naming it? introducing it to the sun and the trees, as if they were yours or you understood them? How else can one be expected to respond to the idea of a dog attacking a baby ("Baby Meets Bowser" class -- I know) or the prospect of postpartum depression?
Maybe you have your own answer to that question. Maybe you are a "serious person." I respect serious people. Most of my heroes are serious people. (I was going to write "Some of my best friends are serious people," but seriousness may be my one disqualifying criterion in that area.) But we are who we are. I remember my dad -- a phenomenally unserious person -- once trying to explain to me, a thirteen year-old who thought that every hour was comedy hour, that not every hour was comedy hour. I responded by laughing hysterically. Then I cried, and it was his turn to laugh. Puberty may be as close as I'll ever get to the hormonal turbulence of pregnancy. Or maybe pregnancy is as close as Lauren will ever get to my everyday state of mind.
In any event, twenty-five days stand between us and parenthood.
In a dimly lit conference room, a dozen new and expecting parents sit in a circle. Each anxiously eyes a silver plastic doll and, following instructions emanating from a screen at the front of the room, occasionally leans down to blow into its tiny mouth. "Now give thirty presses on the baby's chest. One, two, three...." The parents do as they're told, and the syncopated pops and puffs of the dolls make it sound as if someone has just switched on the Everlasting Gobstopper machine from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. A nurse patrols the room, nodding with approval. This is the world we're living in these days.
It's serious business having a baby -- and I mean that in at least two ways, first in terms of the stuff. The sheer amount of equipment required to host a pooping enthusiast of this caliber is astonishing. But I also mean it figuratively. We've sat in rooms like the one described above and learned how to help our baby nurse if he has trouble on his own. We've learned how to work through the pain of labor with breathing, movement, and positive messages. And we've learned how to save our baby's life if he stops breathing or his heart stops beating. Of course, the seriousness of this business doesn't stand in the way of its often being hilarious. Just ask my wife, who spent a good part of last night's class laughing uncontrollably. Then she cried.
It all started in the portion of the class when we were required to respond to various emergency-type situations. Invariably, the right answer was 1) check the scene, 2) check the victim, 3) call for help, 4) check for breathing, and 5) administer CPR until help arrives. This all seemed simple enough to me, and most of the class shared my approach of repeating these steps like a broken record in response to each new emergency-type situation. Lauren, however, chose to read these scenarios with the kind of critical acuity I normally reserve for Renaissance poetry. For instance, one scenario had us responding to cries of help from a woman who was picnicking with her suddenly unwell baby. As the rest of us began to chant our five steps, Lauren interjected: "Well, the first thing you need to do is to determine whether that woman knows CPR and, if so, decide which of you is going to perform it." She cut to the core of the scenario's hidden complexity. Meanwhile, she wisely evaded my astonished glance to avoid cracking up. Another scenario had us responding to cries of help from two teenagers with an unwell friend on a hiking trail. Once again, Lauren found the loose end. As we chanted the five steps, she leaned over to me and whispered, "No way those teenagers are giving 911 a precise location. They have no idea where they are." Astute, if a little ungenerous to the hiking teenagers of the world.
Somewhere along the line, the seemingly endless repetition of the five steps coupled with the baffling that's-how-they-get-ya approach of my wife to CPR training made me chuckle. That's all it took; she lost it. Face buried in hands, body convulsing, all composure lost. I knew then we were headed up and down the same hormone roller coaster we've been on so many times over the past nine months. Something gets Lar going, and she enjoys a fit of uncontrollable laughter before dissolving into tears. Not sad tears, mind you, but not laughing tears either. It's as if she's experiencing every emotion at once, as if the levee has broken. It's one of the highlights of pregnancy and perhaps a useful metaphor for the experience as well.
The whole of pregnancy, at least from the humble perspective of the wing-man, is a laugh-cry. How else can one be expected to respond to the notion of creating a living being? naming it? introducing it to the sun and the trees, as if they were yours or you understood them? How else can one be expected to respond to the idea of a dog attacking a baby ("Baby Meets Bowser" class -- I know) or the prospect of postpartum depression?
Maybe you have your own answer to that question. Maybe you are a "serious person." I respect serious people. Most of my heroes are serious people. (I was going to write "Some of my best friends are serious people," but seriousness may be my one disqualifying criterion in that area.) But we are who we are. I remember my dad -- a phenomenally unserious person -- once trying to explain to me, a thirteen year-old who thought that every hour was comedy hour, that not every hour was comedy hour. I responded by laughing hysterically. Then I cried, and it was his turn to laugh. Puberty may be as close as I'll ever get to the hormonal turbulence of pregnancy. Or maybe pregnancy is as close as Lauren will ever get to my everyday state of mind.
In any event, twenty-five days stand between us and parenthood.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
T Minus 28 Days
It was a busy August! I spent the first weekend in Wilmington, NC, with already-by-any-standards-my-sister-in-law-but-soon-to-be-official-on-October-18 Amy and a troupe of ladies while Bill spent the same weekend in Myrtle Beach, SC, with his brother Brad and his groomsmen. Here is a shot of Amy, Maddy (Bill's cousin), and me out on the dance floor in full bachelorette throttle:
The second weekend, Jean, Kelly, and Heba hosted a baby shower for us at Kelly's house. Phil came down from New Haven to join in the festivities and to practice his uncle-ing skills. Here is Phil, having made fast friends with Kelly and Seth's son, Wyatt, who just turned 1 in July:
The third weekend, Bill and I headed to DC for one last pre-parenthood P-house romp (sadly, I have no pictures to show for that one) and then the following weekend, we drove to the North Carolina mountains for a little babymoon in Valle Crucis, courtesy of Megan & Gary. Here's a shot of the whole family on the Blue Ridge Parkway:
With our travel thirst thoroughly quenched, we spent Labor Day weekend at home doing some hard-core nesting. Once we get a few more items, the nursery will be ready! We have finished our childbirth classes and will take our Infant CPR class this week. We had our "home visit" with our doula Joanne on Friday and have started packing our bag for the hospital. We've been packing in pre-baby lunches, dinners, and outings with friends and family before the big day arrives. We are truly in the home stretch!
And finally, here's a shot from earlier today of me, 9 months pregnant, and Bruno:
The second weekend, Jean, Kelly, and Heba hosted a baby shower for us at Kelly's house. Phil came down from New Haven to join in the festivities and to practice his uncle-ing skills. Here is Phil, having made fast friends with Kelly and Seth's son, Wyatt, who just turned 1 in July:
The third weekend, Bill and I headed to DC for one last pre-parenthood P-house romp (sadly, I have no pictures to show for that one) and then the following weekend, we drove to the North Carolina mountains for a little babymoon in Valle Crucis, courtesy of Megan & Gary. Here's a shot of the whole family on the Blue Ridge Parkway:
With our travel thirst thoroughly quenched, we spent Labor Day weekend at home doing some hard-core nesting. Once we get a few more items, the nursery will be ready! We have finished our childbirth classes and will take our Infant CPR class this week. We had our "home visit" with our doula Joanne on Friday and have started packing our bag for the hospital. We've been packing in pre-baby lunches, dinners, and outings with friends and family before the big day arrives. We are truly in the home stretch!
And finally, here's a shot from earlier today of me, 9 months pregnant, and Bruno:
Monday, July 14, 2008
Bopper Unveiled
Here is a photo of me and my 7-month pregnant belly (which Bill calls "The Big Bopper" or sometimes, for short, just "The Bopper":
I am getting lots of healthy, belly-shaking, visible-from-the-outside kicks these days. Last week, I was laying on my side with my laptop on my hip and a kick came up and sent the laptop teetering!
My third trimester has officially begun, which means (among other things) that I now start going to the doctor every two weeks. At my last doctor's visit, I took (and I'm very pleased and relieved to say, passed) my glucose test. Before this test, you have to drink a small bottle of straight glucose -- it tasted like an extra-sweet Sunkist -- before they draw your blood, which I found rather unpleasant (one of the nurses was like, "mmm, I love that stuff) in addition to the sugar crash which ensued later that afternoon. I am happy not to have to repeat the experience!
Supposedly, the Bopper now weighs two and a quarter pounds and measures just under 15 inches (which the online pregnancy updates I receive liken to the size of a Chinese cabbage). He now has eyelashes and can blink his eyes.
Tomorrow, we have our hospital tour at Durham Regional and on Sunday our first baby shower hosted by Lynn and Amy! In addition to it being our 3-year wedding anniversary on Wednesday, it's a big week!
I am getting lots of healthy, belly-shaking, visible-from-the-outside kicks these days. Last week, I was laying on my side with my laptop on my hip and a kick came up and sent the laptop teetering!My third trimester has officially begun, which means (among other things) that I now start going to the doctor every two weeks. At my last doctor's visit, I took (and I'm very pleased and relieved to say, passed) my glucose test. Before this test, you have to drink a small bottle of straight glucose -- it tasted like an extra-sweet Sunkist -- before they draw your blood, which I found rather unpleasant (one of the nurses was like, "mmm, I love that stuff) in addition to the sugar crash which ensued later that afternoon. I am happy not to have to repeat the experience!
Supposedly, the Bopper now weighs two and a quarter pounds and measures just under 15 inches (which the online pregnancy updates I receive liken to the size of a Chinese cabbage). He now has eyelashes and can blink his eyes.
Tomorrow, we have our hospital tour at Durham Regional and on Sunday our first baby shower hosted by Lynn and Amy! In addition to it being our 3-year wedding anniversary on Wednesday, it's a big week!
Monday, June 16, 2008
Summer Corn
As of yesterday, I am six months pregnant and, according to my pregnancy updates, the baby now weighs over a pound and is about as long as an ear of corn! (mmm...some summer corn sounds really good right now.) His brain, lungs and taste buds are developing this week and his kicks are getting stronger by the day.We had great fun celebrating our fathers yesterday, including Bill Russell as a father-to-be (and already an exceptional father to Bruno)!
Monday, June 2, 2008
Karate Kid
As all of you know by now, we've learned that a little baby BOY is coming our way, which is most exciting news (it would have been exciting either way, but it's been great fun to visualize a tiny gentleman joining our lives). What's more, we are now one important step closer to being ready for his arrival since we now have a crib! When Doyle and Bums came to Chapel Hill weekend before last, Doyle came bearing a crib for Baby that has been lovingly used to raise Doyle's sister Glennon's first two children. It is just perfect and has really made the "nursery" feel official.
As of yesterday, I hit the 22 week mark (5 1/2 months) and according to my weekly pregnancy email, the baby is now 11 inches long (it describes this as the length of a spaghetti squash) and almost 1 pound. He has been developing his hearing and tasting senses and this week is developing tiny tooth buds beneath his gums (an exciting milestone for any dental legacy). What's more, the "quickening" (this is the term - a lovely one, I think - for the baby's first movements, which felt to me like little electric currents) of the past few weeks has developed into full-fledged kicks. On Saturday, I put my hand on my belly to see if I could feel them on the outside, and he gave me one right square in the palm, as if he'd come straight from a training session with Mr. Miyagi. We're going to start practicing Wax on, Wax off in just a few weeks.
Since many folks have been asking, and this blog is for all the news that's fit to print, I wanted to let our dear readers know that we have indeed started a baby registry on one of our favorite sites: Amazon.com. You can access it via this link if you are so inclined:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/registry/baby/1JGPNCQAK18MK
That's all for now sweet friends and family. We go in for our next doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon, so I'll report back with any updates later this week.
As of yesterday, I hit the 22 week mark (5 1/2 months) and according to my weekly pregnancy email, the baby is now 11 inches long (it describes this as the length of a spaghetti squash) and almost 1 pound. He has been developing his hearing and tasting senses and this week is developing tiny tooth buds beneath his gums (an exciting milestone for any dental legacy). What's more, the "quickening" (this is the term - a lovely one, I think - for the baby's first movements, which felt to me like little electric currents) of the past few weeks has developed into full-fledged kicks. On Saturday, I put my hand on my belly to see if I could feel them on the outside, and he gave me one right square in the palm, as if he'd come straight from a training session with Mr. Miyagi. We're going to start practicing Wax on, Wax off in just a few weeks.
Since many folks have been asking, and this blog is for all the news that's fit to print, I wanted to let our dear readers know that we have indeed started a baby registry on one of our favorite sites: Amazon.com. You can access it via this link if you are so inclined:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/registry/baby/1JGPNCQAK18MK
That's all for now sweet friends and family. We go in for our next doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon, so I'll report back with any updates later this week.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
parenthood comes on little square feet
I had my first full-scale freak-out the other night after Lauren and I casually applied some crib measurements she'd found online to our tiny home. "You've got to be kidding me," I said as the measuring tape spanned half the room. "That can't be right. It just can't be that big. I've seen babies. They're very small." But she was right, and suddenly the challenge of fitting crib, dresser, changing table, etc. into the small, crowded room that serves as my office hit me like a ton of diapers. Lauren recognized as much and wisely went to bed. I stood scratching my head, muttering, and staring down the walls until late.
The next day, with the house to myself, I waged war with the office. It was ugly. The air was thick with my curses. At one point I furiously threw every article of clothing I own from the closet into the office just to make a point. By the end of the day, I had put everything I don't use on a daily basis into the attic, added a few "accent pieces" of furniture to our now even cozier living room, and, yes, cleared out nearly half of the office. In other words, readers, I prepared the nursery.
Small though it may be, it occurred to me that at approximately sixty square feet, the nursery will provide the baby with a living space that is just about sixty times its size. That would be like me living in a 700-800 square foot house! Which I do. Amazing how they inherit your traits!
The next day, with the house to myself, I waged war with the office. It was ugly. The air was thick with my curses. At one point I furiously threw every article of clothing I own from the closet into the office just to make a point. By the end of the day, I had put everything I don't use on a daily basis into the attic, added a few "accent pieces" of furniture to our now even cozier living room, and, yes, cleared out nearly half of the office. In other words, readers, I prepared the nursery.
Small though it may be, it occurred to me that at approximately sixty square feet, the nursery will provide the baby with a living space that is just about sixty times its size. That would be like me living in a 700-800 square foot house! Which I do. Amazing how they inherit your traits!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Baby's First A, Bright Lights, Beer Guts
We have recently had a series of (noninvasive) tests, including a First Trimester Screen and an AFP, both performed by blood screening and/or ultrasound evaluation to identify risk for specific chromosomal abnormalities, disorders, etc. I am pleased to report that Critter Lynn aced them all.
I hit the 15-week mark this past Sunday. Supposedly, Critter Lynn is now measuring about 4 inches long and is about the size of an apple. Although his/her eyelids are still fused shut, s/he can sense light. We may have to break out some Glo Sticks and/or disco balls this weekend to see if that's really true (we keep both aforementioned items on hand at all times for a variety of occasions).
In other news, it appears as though I've been sucking down a six-pack of Budweiser every night. I have three pairs of pants that I can still wear, and two are brown pants, so my outfits are pretty boring these days. I ventured into a few maternity stores on our recent trip to Chicago, but found the experience rather unpleasant, so am waiting until the situation becomes more urgent before returning. Perhaps it's time to lead the charge in resurrecting the toga??
I hit the 15-week mark this past Sunday. Supposedly, Critter Lynn is now measuring about 4 inches long and is about the size of an apple. Although his/her eyelids are still fused shut, s/he can sense light. We may have to break out some Glo Sticks and/or disco balls this weekend to see if that's really true (we keep both aforementioned items on hand at all times for a variety of occasions).
In other news, it appears as though I've been sucking down a six-pack of Budweiser every night. I have three pairs of pants that I can still wear, and two are brown pants, so my outfits are pretty boring these days. I ventured into a few maternity stores on our recent trip to Chicago, but found the experience rather unpleasant, so am waiting until the situation becomes more urgent before returning. Perhaps it's time to lead the charge in resurrecting the toga??
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