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.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
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.
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.
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