decisions decisions

eva has been sick for a month now which is making my decision easier and easier to make. her first real sick day coincided with my first day back to work. just my luck. it kills me to hear her cough and cough and cough and to see snot running out of her nose like an open water faucet. though it may not be the most rational of reasons to use to quit one's job, it certainly backs up my thesis statement: 'i don't want to watch my daughter grow up from the sidelines.'

i have beaten myself up for weeks and finally came to the decision when she started doing these horrible body-shaking coughs. i repeat: it may be faulty reasoning because i cannot keep her from getting sick her whole life but to see a four month-old (my four month-old) so miserable breaks my heart. i have asked every question possible and weighed all of the options. i read somewhere, 'if you choose to be a stay at home mom, stick with it and never look back. you'll never regret it.' the affirmation gives me some sort of solace but at the same time, i am not looking to be betty crocker (as my mother puts it). i just need more time with my daughter so that I don't feel like she is just a pet that i feed and dress and have an hour's worth of interaction with each day.

moms

At age 4, we think: Mom knows everything! At 8: Mom knows a lot! At 12: Mom doesn't really know everything . At 14: Mom doesn't know anything. At 16: Mom doesn't exist. At 18: she's old fashioned. At 25: Maybe mom does know about this! At 35: before we decide let's ask mom. At 45: I wonder what mom thinks about this ? At 75: I wish I could ask mom about this.

week 1 completed

week one of work-daycare-crazyness is over. i am no more closer to an answer than i was 8 days ago.

as luck would have it, eva picked up a mean cold in my last week at home and so max had to stay at home with her my first two days of work. it hurt much less to know that they were home together. coming home those two days was a treat- seeing my two favorite people in the world laughing and playing together (snot dripping out of one of their noses). then wednesday, thursday, and friday: it was almost as if i could convince myself that i was making the right decision, while i was in the office that is. then, as i got off the bus each day (on friday i took a cab because i couldn't stand the thought of getting there a minute past 5 and i had left work 10 minutes later than the days before)i found myself practically running to the daycare while asking myself what the hell i was doing leaving her alone. now it is sunday night and taking stock of the weekend i realize that i am no longer in sync with the little one, the way i was when i wasn't working. we spent all day together and i was responsible for her in every way and i knew her inside and out. now she is between worlds- the daycare and home.

oct 8 2010

2:08

I feel like a stalker. I am sitting in the car, waiting for a more appropriate hour to enter Eva's nursery-school/daycare. Approaching the school from outside always reminds me of an insane asylum- you hear nothing but screams, yells, crying and wailing. Today she stayed the longest stretch thus far 9-230. It allowed me some time to go to the embassy and get some things done around the house. Such accomplishments without guilt give me a false sense of hope that on Monday when I finally go back to work, things won't be so bad. Who knows how it will turn out, whether I crumble after the first day or whether my sense of duty to work and family will spur me on. A thought occured to me today, if I can stand working and being away from Eva for so much time, we'll be able to save money for her; for college, a car, hell even her wedding! Maybe this is just my way of justifying being away from her.

Little America?

Until today I had never been to the American Embassy in Rome. thankfully i had no reason to go there- i.e. no lost/stolen passport. Though, I must say, I wouldn't turn down a job if they begged me to come.

I went to the embassy, checkbook in hand (I had read that the fee for citizenship is $460!), forms filled out and with two 2x2 photos of a little person with blue eyes and light brown hair who somewhat resembles me. I went to apply for Eva's American citizenship. I expected (and strangely looked forward to) a little island of americana (men with kakhi pants, polo shirts, and blackberries on their hips, people with American coffee breath)removed from the reckless roman driving and glitzy hotels and cafes of Via Venteto inside those great walls; and it started out that way: I had to take off my shoes and go through a metal detector before they let me in. But I can tell you now though, that I did not speak to one American (not that there is anything wrong with that (Seinfeld anyone?))and the forms I had filled out were all wrong and whole new set of forms was given to me. When I finally finished getting the information I needed I went back to security to pick up my cell phone and ipod (such things are not allowed in the embassy)and what do you know, both security guards were on their cell phones! I had certainly never left Italy.

Little Eva will have to wait just a little longer for her blue passport with the birdy on it.

leaps and bounds

eva is growing by leaps and bounds, or rather by kicks and swats.

today i have the innkling that eva will grow up to be a champion soccer player. i presented her with a ball (red, blue, green, and yellow with a happy face on the yellow quarter of the ball, that rattles when you shake it) on her three month birthday and now a week later she is interested in it. i propped her up on the bed after her late afternoon lunch and 'gave' her the ball. she grabbed for it in earnest and (with mommy's help)pulled it to her mouth for a taste before it fell from her uncoordinated little hands. we repeated this several times; she was getting more hyped up each time i placed the ball in front of her (yes, grandma, i gave it to her midline) making little yelps of excitement until the unthinkable happened. The ball fell down right in between her stretched out legs, not to the left or the right but directly in front of her. She looked down in amazement, stretched her arms out to the side and with great concentration began kicking the ball back and forth between her legs- of course we are talking about a distance of a few centimeters but nevertheless she was juggling the ball. I started to wonder after the 10th ball drop from hands to mouth to legs, if I should be worried that she seems to have much more dexterity with her legs than her hands, but the thought disappeared from my mind as quickly as it came because Eva was demonstrating herself to be something like a three month-old Mia Hamm.

today was the eighth day of nursery school for eva. it seems like she is already growing up and the great abyss that grows between mother and child (until the child finally accepts the parent as just another person in the world who pro-created and not an all-perfect-all-knowing being)is widening too fast.

i'll never know what the right answer is to the question, should i stay home or should i go back to work?

stealing time

eva is napping her way through a growth spurt. so here i am.

i swear every time i go in to check on her, she is longer. she is filling up the crib that we put her in only two weeks ago. being a new mother is trying at times- i can't get eva to fall asleep on her own, she finds comfort only with her face buried in my collar bone (i can't imagine that being comfortable at all) and i am convinced she will have a flat head all her life since she is strongly opposed to 'tummy-time' during playtime- but the moments when after a nap she tries her hardest to speak to me, saying things like 'mao' and 'ayo' i forget all about how much my back hurts and how crazy i am making myself with internet research and reading baby's-first-year books.

the next three weeks are going to be a prelude to torture. i'm going back to work at the beginning of october and, at three and a half months old eva will start daycare. boo. for now i am stealing time.

one month on the outside

Today is Eva's one month birthday. I woke up happy, told her several times it was her birthday( though she can't understand the words I say and can barely see me), optimistically breastfed her (i have a waning milk supply apparently)and put her down for a morning nap- which she did so most dutifully. This one month old thing is starting out great, I thought to myself.

Two and half hours later she woke with little cries- nothing crazy- and I so checked on her. There was evidence a major diaper change needed as I felt her mushy diaper..and I was right. The poor kid had filled the diaper up with 'pupu liquida' (as the pampers package describes it). A baby bidet was necessary, so I did it, got through it ok as I introduced Eva to herself in the mirror while wiping the the poop off her bum. I got her dressed again and it was time to eat- and boy, did she eat. A 20 minute breastfeeding session, 100ml of formula, and then she cried for more with her beguilingly cute frown and her little chicken looking rooting reflex. I didn't have the heart to deny her anything on her birthday so I made her a bit more formula. She didn't drink too much of it but it did the trick and soon we were off into staring-contest-land where we stare into each other's big blue eyes and wonder what the other is thinking. Actually, I know Eva is not thinking anything. Babies don't have thoughts at this age, they don't have a sense of self, nor do they know who the people are that are taking care of them, i.e. mom and dad. In any case, during our staring contest, strange sounds erupted from below and I knew there would be yet another liquid brown present waiting for me at the next diaper change. I took Eva in to change her- she was her normal docile self when she makes a big poop, waiting patiently to be finished with the change, sometimes trying to stick her foot in it. I was so pleased with her that I wrapped her up in a blanket afterward and bounced her to sing happy birthday. The next thing I know that extra milk I could not bear not giving her was spewing out of her mouth and nose Exorcist-style. It scared the hell out of me to something come out of my little alien's nose. I took her to the bathroom for the second baby bath- it wasn't even 1pm.

Note to self: no over zealous bouncing after over zealous feeding sessions.

It is now 2:30pm and Eva has finally fallen asleep, I can now wash the smelly baby barf off me and eat some lunch an ponder my terrible mothering skills. Happy 1 Month Birthday, Eva.

three weeks and six days

On June 16 at 6:37 pm the waiting ended. After a much more painful than I expected, but short labor, Eva Marie Tomassini came into the world. It was worth every scream, pain, contraction, morning sickness vomit, and sleepless night of the last nine months. She is beautiful- even if I am partial in being her mother I'll say it anyway. More importantly, she is healthy. Max and I are still tripping on the fact that the two of us did something so amazing and beautiful and our love for her grows everyday.

On Friday, Eva will be a month old. Her month in her new world has been eventful. Grandma and Grandpa came from California to stay with us and we all came down with a terrible stomach flu on Eva's one week birthday (except for Eva, thankfully), we celebrated Eva's cousin Tamara's 18th birthday and we are now having our first visit from one of Eva's uncles: Brian. Aside from the big events, it is the small things that amaze me still more. Eva's little noises, her cuter-than-you-can imagine yawns, and her heart-stopping cries from hunger, tummyaches, and dirty diapers. She is growing before my eyes and has already grown out of her newborn clothes. I felt a twinge of sadness as I snapped the buttons last week on a t-shirt that had already gotten tight on the long and slender body of the little alien that now sleeps beside my bed every night. This may only be the beginning of her growing up and becoming independent of her mommy and papa' but I can't wait for all of the days in between in which she'll amaze us without end.

Rome is hot in the summer, especially this summer. Our pediatrician warned us against letting the baby sweat. I have never put the question to myself before, 'what is the physiological meaning of a baby sweating?' but apparently it is bad news. Thank god for air conditioning. Brian and I decided to take Eva on an adventure yesterday morning- on the bus into town for lunch. I over packed Eva's bag with diapers and bottles and toys and blankets, we put her in the carriage, attached the umbrella I had bought the day before to shield from the sun and we were off. But by the time we got near the bus stop 15 minutes later all three of us required a second shower of the day from the sweat that was soaking through our clothes. I called our trek off to avoid the 'systemic collapse' of my daughter (as the pediatrician put it) and decided it was best to take Brian and Eva in the air-conditioned car- it was 90 degrees at 11 am- in to the city. We didn't end up going to lunch for fear of more sweating. I dropped Brian off for some Roman site-seeing and took Eva straight home. This was our first trip alone in the car together and I was scared (this was marginally lower on the fear scale than making her suffer in the heat). What if she chokes? What if she gets sunburned from the sun beating in to the car? What if she finds a way to strangle herself on the straps of the carseat? I had to will myself just to keep driving- telling myself it was better to just to keep going and get home asap.

The harrowing 20 minute journey through the gauntlet of Roman traffic, tight windy roads, and crazy motorini drivers finally ended and we go home safe and sound. I amazed myself with all the things I could carry up to the house in one trip with only two arms, in addition to Eva, and still succeed in opening the front door. Once in the house, I cranked up the AC fed the alien and we both passed out. The day had ended and it was only 1pm.

the hospital

we went this morning for the third time to have the baby's heartbeat monitored. this time we met the obstetrician who hopefully be delivering our little bundle of joy. its funny how you can feel so singular at a time like this, like your experience is unique, and then you hear the screams of other people's newly born kids and you realize there is nothing unique about it at all. people have kids everyday.

the obstetrician left me alone in a room with a fetal heart monitor for about 20 minutes and i watched my belly move in waves up and down while the baby enjoyed herself inside the womb- or at least that is what i'd like to believe. who knows if she is enjoying herself- she'll never be able to tell me what it was like to be inside by uterus for nine months, just like i can't tell my mother. in any case, the obstetrician returned and upon examination of the print-out told me that her heartbeat was perfect, "by the book" were her exact words. i somehow felt proud, like this was something the baby meant to do, that she was already an over-achiever...

and so the waiting begins...

today is may 31, my grandfather's birthday. he would be 99 years old.

today also marks the beginning of waiting for the little one inside of me to make her big entrance into the world. my last day of work was friday and through exhaustion and swollen feet, i was relieved. now, only three days later, i wonder how i am going to stand the suspense until it finally happens. i am also starting to feel guilty about just being here at home, not really doing anything except for what i want to be doing...especially when i don't really know what that is.

i have all of the worries and fears anyone could have, and more. have i prepared enough? have i taken good enough care of myself to insure that she is healthy? did all of those months of blood tests and ultrasounds really prove anything about how she is? is she really going to be fine? max continues to assure me that she is.

i do know that her presence in my belly these past nine months has brought tremendous joy to us and our families: my parents becoming grandparents for the first time, max's dad becoming a grandfather for the fourth time perhaps when he least expected it; these account for only three of the many lives our child has touched and she hasn't even been born yet. she'll have aunts and cousins to dote on her, uncles to teach her about life and tell her dirty jokes, and a father and mother who adore her. i can't wait to meet her. exactly 14 days separate us from our meeting her (if all goes well that is) and i don't know how i'm going to stand it!

Nonno Manlio's beautiful drawings start to fill up the room...and tiny little clothes hang out to dry...waiting for someone to come home and put them on.