We visited the doctor last week and Quinn received a clean bill of health…  Too bad the Ped couldn’t foresee her first cold right around the corner. Anyway, she continues to sit at the 75th percentile on the charts for height, weight and head size.

Height: 26″

Weight: 18 lbs.

Head Size: ??? 75% larger than her peers

Other notable events and personality quirks:

She continues to refine her sitting-up skills and can technically sit up without the assistance of pillows surrounding her, but me being neurotic me, I still use the boppy pillow as a crutch. Along with sitting-up, she also now LUNGES forward. This move is made with no regard to her (hard) surroundings. In her mind it’s very simple, she see’s an object, she wants it, can’t reach by sitting still, so she lunges forward. While she no longer startles herself when doing this, she often lands in a very awkward position and quickly cries for some assistance.

Like many other babies, she absolutely loves TAGS. The bigger the tag the better. She’s got all of these toys and is often oblivious to the bright colors and plush fabrics. I’m thinking in investing in one of these.

She is fascinated with her dad’s head. Jake will rub his noggin on her belly and she shrieks out in laughter. She tries her hardest to grab ahold of the  1/2″ buzz cut asian ‘fro but luckily for Jake, his hair is just a wee bit too short for her grasp.

I sing ridiculous songs to her all day, but the one that is guaranteed to bring a smile to her face is this. I really stretch the song out by adding very odd lyrics:  …The babies on the bus, they nurse, nurse, nurse… the babies on the bus go waa, waa, waa… the mommies on the bus, they shhoosh, shhoosh, shhoosh…

She L.O.V.E.S. peek-a-boo. And seriously, just saying peek-a-boo brings a smile to her face.

I honestly cannot believe 6 months has passed. Jake and I have so much fun with her, especially as she’s gotten older and has been able to interact and play more.  The ever changing, ever evolving days of an infant…  is there anything more fascinating than watching a human being develop???

Ok, now I must go and kiss my sweet pea and sick huzband, who are napping together. *heart-bursting*

Our sweet sweet angel has been cursed with her first of many colds to come. It actually struck she and I both at about the same time… yesterday around 2:30 p.m. And the timing of it of course could not have been worse. As of 3 minutes ago, Quinn and I were supposed to be boarding a train bound for the Emerald City where we were going to spend the week with my family.

The mental preparation for this trip began well over a week ago and I’ve had this 50+ pound suitcase packed since Friday, so of course we would get sick.  While I was nervous about traveling alone with Quinn on a train, I was also excited about the trip. For a short trip up I-5 from Portland to Seattle, Amtrak is a great way to go.  Not as great as a 30 minute flight, but at 70 bucks round trip, it’s cheaper that filling up 2 gas tanks in the car and it’s 100x’s more relaxing than being stuck in a car. On the train, you’ve got the mobility… I could walk Quinn up and down the cars – hang out in the dining car… watch the scenery out the large windows, and enjoy that soothing back-and-forth rocking as the train rolls along.  So as much prep went into this trip, we inevitably are stopped by the one thing that stops a new mom dead in her tracks.

And so far, this first cold is not disappointing. She’s got a steady stream of snot running down her nose, sneezing and coughing constantly, has a slight fever and to top it off, she’s of course fussy. Last night she went to sleep at about 8:45 and woke up about every half hour struggling to breath. At about 11 o’clock last night, I broke out the the snot-sucker and have become very intimate with her little nostrils – which she hates by the way. But seriously — who wouldn’t? What an unpleasant thing.

At 2 a.m. she was wide awake, so she and I got up. I figured that sitting up and letting some of the gunk drain would be good for her. I lasted until about 3 a.m. which was the time I felt like I could collapse from exhaustion.  So she and I laid down and when we were both close to drifting off, she decides to poop those sweet peas from earlier in the day. Double Awesome!

Up we get, change the diaper, suck more snot, and lay back down. The sleep gods had mercy on us and let she and I sleep for 3 hours.

The only upside to this debacle is that in the midst of caring for her, I’ve nearly forgotten about my own cold.

So, cross your fingers folks that our initiation into the world of sick-baby is short-lived and that Miss. Quinn and I will hop on that train later this week.

…(*ahh* *oohs* from baby monitor) And with that, she’s waking from her too short nap, so until next time…

If you are a parent, chances are, early in your career you mastered the “take-away” technique.  This is an ancient practice of distracting your little one with a more appropriate toy in order to take away the non-safe, adult object they’ve managed to get their little paws on.

Quinn turned 6 months old on Sunday and of course she loves to play with anything that is not technically “hers”.  She especially loves getting her hands on magazines, tearing it and trying to eat it to shreds, cell phones, and soda cans (specifically, she tries to get her fingers in that fascinating hole on the top of the can).

I quickly became a master of the take-away technique.  And when the moment strikes I quickly scan the room for a much more appealing toy.  “Look Quinn, look what mommy’s got…  Ohhhh, it makes noise… YAY!!!” With my right hand I present her with the toy, and quickly remove the less-than-safe object from her grip.  And when done right — ahhh, sweet success.

So, can someone please teach my husband this??? Seriously he’s a smart guy, but this concept is foreign to him. Just the other day I was playing with Quinn and daddy came up to steal a few smiles for himself.  He had a can of seltzer water in his hand and of course she wanted it. And of course she wanted to stick her fingers in that little black hole that’s opening is RAZOR sharp. Wanting a smile from his daughter, how could he break her heart and not let her play with this wonderful object!?!!?!  What kind of daddy do you think he is??

As her fingers got within inches of that RAZOR, he snapped out of this baby-haze and yanked the can away from her.  She’s screaming, he’s repeating… “it’s ok sweetheart”.  And he walks away.

Someone please teach him this VERY-SIMPLE-YET-VERY-EFFECTIVE-ESSENTIAL-FOR-A-6-MONTH-OLD-BABY technique.

Thanks.

Finally, at 1 o’clock, the nurse checked me and THANK GOD, I’d made it to 10 cm! All of a sudden the reality of actually pushing a baby out of a 10 cm opening FRIGHTENED me. I clung to the nurse and shreiked…”I’m scared to push”… She gave me a reassuring smile and said that pushing would actually FEEL GOOD. I laughed in my head, but just moments later I realized she was correct. It DID feel better to push. Afraid yes, but I was still very happy to push. 13 hours into labor and I was SOOO ready to push.

I got into position and had my team of mothers (mom, step-mom & mom-in-law) and my husband surrounding me for support.

I gave that first push, trying to guide ALL of my power and energy to my bum (as instructed). Recalling all of the Baby Stories I’d watched over the past 9 months, I envisioned that the baby would make her appearance after 3 or 4 pushes…  HAHA. Good thing I’m not the bettin’ kind.

So much of the time that I was pushing was a bit of a blur, however, this is what I recall:

Hour 1 – Pushed, pushed and pushed. Husband feeding me ice chips. Nurses cheering, “perfect”, “I see her head”, “here she comes!”. Mom, step-mom, mom-in-law & Husband counting in unison. Pushed. Pushed and Pushed. LOTS O’PAIN.

Hour 2 – More pushing. More FALSE statements from nurses… “we see her head”, “she’s making her way down”, “you’re making great progress”… More pushing. More ice chips. MASSIVE PAIN. Hold in breath – push… push… push… WAIT — Pushing too soon… wait for contraction to peak – then push. More ice chips, more counting, more pushing, more pain. Feeling so exhausted – I want to just stop pushing. I’m just done – I can’t do it anymore.

Hour 3 – Dr. comes and pushing continues. I’m onto these damn nurses – LIARS! “We see her”, “she’s RIGHT there”, “here she comes…” PUSH. PUSH. PUSH. EXHAUSTED. PUSH. PUSH. PUSH. Ice chips. Attempts to channel Billy Blanks, ANGRY PUSH! ANGRY PUSH! SH*T – THIS HURTS.

We were half way into the 3^rd hour when the doctor said… “Ok Christine, we’re going to give this about another half hour, then we’re going to talk about options.” In this exact moment, being so delirious from exhaustion and pain – in my head I was thinking… TAKE ME TO SURGERY – GET HER OUT!!! I was SO, SO tired… I felt with nearly every ounce of me – that this was impossible. Pushing a baby out of my nether regions was a farcical idea that would never come to fruition.

However I said none of this and instead said…”I’ve gotten this far.” “I can’t stop now.” PUSH! PUSH! PUSH! I don’t want a c-section – I’m almost there! Pleeeeaassseeee….

In a half dazed state, I hear, “episiotomy”… Then I hear “vacuum” - two things that were not on my birth plan, however on the other hand, I was overjoyed to hear because this meant progress right?! That the end was near?!?! Part of me believed this and the other part of me felt they were all still just F’ing with me… Soon I found out, they weren’t.

The doctor placed a vacuum in my body and I SCREAMED in PAIN. In case you’re wondering, a vacuum INSIDE your body does NOT feel awesome. It feels like an ancient form of torture. Then they said… “don’t push, don’t push” and then they said “PUSH!” and I did and I felt it… The RING OF FIRE. Then they shouted “STOP PUSHING!” I heard, “chord around her neck” and then “PUSH!” And my baby was out.

2/17/08 - 4:09 p.m. All 8 pounds, 21 inches of her.

3^rd time c-section dodged.

Wow. It’s been nearly six months since this tiny-weenee event has taken place. Soooo I figured before my memory completely gives into momnesia – I should notate it for you know, posterity and all that…  Plus, I know you’re all dying to hear all the DEETS. This will be in 3 parts because, yes it’s long.

Birth Story, Part 1

After 2 weeks of false labor and one trip to the hospital for potential “amniotic fluid” leakage… I was beyond ready for my child to arrive. Three days after my due date – 3 days before a scheduled induction it happened. I was jarred awake at 12:30 a.m. with my first ACTUAL contraction. (And haha, how in the world did I mistake those fake-ass contractions for the real thing? What a joke.) First contraction came and went and I drifted back to sleep, I would not be fooled by my body – No I was NOT falling for this false-labor stuff yet again.

1:30 – Ouch. Now that hurt. Back to sleep. 2:00 – YOUCH. That really hurt. Back to Sleep. 2:30 – OH MY GOSH – I better start tracking these… 2:40, 2:52 (wake up husband – “um honey, I think I’m in labor” – husband springs into action gathering heat pack and pressing into lower back), 3:04, 3:11, 3:19, 3:26, 3:33, 3:45, 3:52, 3:58, 4:04, 4:11, 4:16, 4:22, 4:26, 4:30, 4:34. UM OUCH! PAIN and LOTS OF IT!

Being the nerd that is my husband, he quickly calculated these times and came up with an average of between 6-7 minutes apart. He then called the hospital. They agreed – it was time! It was immediately after this phone call that the contractions jumped to a solid 3-4 minutes apart. We got in the car, called our parents and headed into the Sunday morning darkness. And for the record, bumps in the road and laboring DOES NOT MIX. I’m seriously going to write the city about all of those damn pot-holes which we strategically hit over and over as each contraction came.

We arrived at the hospital at 5 a.m. and once I got settled in my room and got a nice dose of fentanyl to take the edge off… I was so excited to hear that I was dilated to 5 cm! I was in active labor people! I promptly requested an epidural and settled in for my life to never be the same.

So I received the epidural, only to feel SUPER nauseous… so, no big deal, they quickly gave me some anti-nausea medicine. Ahhh… ok, back to the business at hand. If only I could focus. I was shaking so much – a side effect of the epidural, I was having a hard time taking deep breaths.

Just when I was beginning to relax, no less than 10 nurses ran into my room in a panic. They threw an oxygen mask on me, began flipping me from side-to-side – in the midst of this, they managed to explain that the baby’s heart rate had dropped significantly… and they were in a mad-dash to recover it. It had dropped from 140/bpm down to 70/bpm.

I was terrified. I thought, my baby… please help my baby! I could say nothing… The only way they knew I was panicked was by the tears that were welling up above my oxygen mask. I looked for Jake – WHERE WAS HE!? I finally found him sitting frozen on the sofa. He too was crippled with fear. Quickly the nurses broke my water so they could place a heart monitor on her scalp, they also discovered at this point that my amniotic fluid was slightly discolored which meant meconium (baby poo) was present. AWESOME!

They paged the doctor and began making calls about a possible c-section, all while they were continuing to have me flip from side to side – which by the way is not easy when your entire left side from the waist down is numb. At some point, in what felt like forever, but was probably less than 6 minutes, Quinn managed to get herself out danger and her heart rate jumped back up to around 140/bpm.

1^st time c-section dodged.

I was shaken, but relieved the crisis had passed. It’s roughly around 7:30 a.m. I was tired, thirsty and beginning to feel lots of pressure in my nether regions. I was still 5 cm dilated and my contractions were about 2 minutes apart. Around this point the nurses explained that because meconium was present, they would have to suction Quinn’s lungs immediately after birth. Quinn and I would still share our special moment, just not immediately.

At 9:00 a.m. I was still at 5 cm so the nurses explained they were giving me a small dose of pitocin to help “move things along” . Which at 9 hours into this labor thing, I was not too objectionable. I was living with what felt like a constant pressure, so it was difficult to tell when the contractions were coming and going, however, not long after the pitocin was administered, the nurse comes in and explains that I’m in the middle of a 10 minute contraction! TEN MINUTES PEOPLE! After the 10 minute contraction, then a 6 minute contraction hit.

Aside from my Guiness Book of World Records (GBOWR) contractions being super uncomfortable, Quinn was also letting us know that she was a bit irritated with them as well. Again, her heart rate dropped during these GBOWR contractions. It was at this point that the nurses realized that maybe I’m not an ideal candidate for the hospital’s wonder-drug. So, no pitocin for me. They said to me as if I was heading out to the front-lines of war… “Christine, it looks like you’re going to have to get to 10 cm all on your own.” Which in my head I’m thinking… “umm, isn’t that the deal here? I get to 10 cm, I push, I get my baby?”

10 o’clock – the doctor came in, checked me and said… “you’re between 5-6 cm. If you’ve not made progress by 11 o’clock, we’re going to have to talk about options.” She left and I felt a bit inadequate. I probed the nurses – “be honest, what do you think? Do you really think I’m going to have to have a c-section?” They responded with… “we’ll see…”

At about 11 o’clock, I’d managed to make my way to 7-8 cm… Which felt like no small feat. I was happy this pain I was enduring was bringing me closer to the finish line. And more importantly, the doctor saw PROGRESS…

2^nd time c-section dodged.

To be continued…

There should be a warning label on babies…

WARNING: When playing with baby, shortly after baby has eaten, NEVER EVER, EVER play airplane with baby. (The baby-is-an-airplane game is when you are lying on your back and you hold baby high above you and sway them around like an airplane, making baby laugh and be obnoxiously cute). If this game is played, there is a potential for baby to lose their lunch all over your face, which includes spit-up landing in the eyes, nose and mouth.

Everything stated in the paragraph above happened to me. TWICE THIS WEEK. The first time I managed to get by with a thorough face washing and brushing of the teeth, however the second time she got me good. It was Spit-up-fest-2008 and I was the main event. There it went, In my eyes, up my nose, in my mouth, in my hair and a pool of it inside my bra.  Oh yes, it was lovely.

Jake was nearby when the event occurred and he ran to get a paper towel which barely removed the top later of vomit. I handed Quinn to him and began to get up, but then realized that of course, since there was spit-up in my eyes, I couldn’t see… So he and Quinn guided me to the kitchen sink where I could wash my face. The sink only removed the 2nd layer – so I quickly proceeded to the shower to give myself a proper scrubbing.

I really should know better, you know, “fool me once” etc…  See when I was 11, my family and I took the ferry to the San Juan Islands. I was looking after my 6 month old brother and thought it would be a good idea to play Baby Airplane with him. He, like Quinn, loved it. Anyway, we were on the ferry and the waters were a bit choppy…  And all of a sudden, he spits-up and ALL OF IT landed squarely in my mouth. Holding my brother, I ran to the nearest water fountain and spit-up his spit-up.

And now that I’ve relived all three of these awesome events, I am go to bed and ignore this saliva that is building up under my tounge.