January 2009: a new life meets a new year

Haaaaaaaappy New Year, folks!

So, we were able to celebrate the incoming year as a family of three. Jon and I had our little one, and the accompanying tax break, with us just in time to usher in 2009. Nice.

Although Meara couldn't put up a toast, set off firecrackers or kiss a bystander like the rest of the autonomously functioning population, she did celebrate in sorts via having a milestone New Year's Day: her umbilical cord fell off! Way to go, kid! I'd been anxiously awaiting the casting off of that pesky little delicate eyesore, so I was thrilled and also convinced it was her baby version of a New Year's resolution, to start the year fresh and cord free (not wire free, mind you, as she still had her monitor). Now begins the wait to find out whether she will have an innie or outie. Personally, I prefer innies ... no offense to members of the outie kingdom.

Here is Meara sans attached umbilical cord:



And here is Miss Meara swaddled up on her Boppy Lounger after the hard work of creating a bellybutton (by the way, the instructions on the loungers specify that adults are not to let the baby sleep on the boppy; but c'mon, seriously, that's what babies do, people):

Ok, now, I have to admit that Nestle, though he is my original baby, got sorely overlooked in my blogs dealing with December of 2008 due to the whole new-human birth thing. So, I'm going to try to make that up a little now before I get too much farther into January.

Late November 2008, after Jon's brother Jared and his family visited over the holiday, Nes had to go into the vet. I think with the excitement of little people around the house, plus unsanctioned food scraps from Thanksgiving, etc., his old self just got out of whack, and his system stressed out. He was not eating or drinking properly, he had pukesplosions and poopsplosions, he was losing weight (very bad on an 8-pound dog), and he was acting puny. So, long story short, after some brief hospitalization, a hefty vet bill and some prescriptions, he returned home and recovered fairly well. And by that I mean, at his age, coming back from this sort of thing is never fully realized, but in his circumstances, he ended up in better shape than expected.

I have to give props to Jon, who, despite his joking that he'd never spend more than the price of a new dog, was really patient and understanding and willing to let us do what it took to meet my needs when it came to caring for Nes. This is good, because it took a lot. In addition to his I.V.s administered in the vet, he got a subcutaneous fluid shot before leaving, which resulted in what I called his "water boob," which was a pocket of saline settling in the lowest point of his chest and flopping around. Sorry to be crass, but he looked like the canine version of a braless old woman with a uniboob. He also had what looked like a little green cast, but it was wrappings on his catheter, which we left in for a while in case he relapsed and had to return for more I.V. therapy. Jon, who likes to play doctor, simply took it out after a few days.

This doesn't fully represent the water boob, but you'll get the gist:



Thanks to both the nature of expelling a baby and my episiotomy, I insisted the hospital gift me a donut to sit on during my recovery. Note: I insisted. Ladies, if you don't get something from the hospital you think would be useful, then ask. Although they may not offer, there are not a lot of things nurses will deny a newly annointed mommy.

Here, Nestle discovered and usurped my donut (in all fairness, he was recovering, too):



Nestle continued his rein of plunder by taking over the Boppy Lounger, as well. At least the instructions didn't say dogs can't sleep on the Boppy:



Once I'd established a pattern of spending a decent amount of time in the nursery with nighttime feedings, etc., I noticed Nestle was always following me around and trying to get in my lap while I nursed the baby in the glider. Needless to say, three's a crowd when it comes to those circumstances, so I decided to get Nes a place to cuddle in our presence so he could still feel included. I purchased him a lovely faux-fur pet bed to match the black crib and glider, and I put it at the foot of the ottoman. Success!

Here is Nes in his nursery bed:



Ok, now back to the human goings on. When Meara was just over two and a half weeks old, Jon and I left her with his parents to go to Jon's coworker's wedding. Some people might wonder how we could leave her for an evening at such a young age, but remember, we'd already gone a week without her after her birth, so it was a little easier to take a few hours off our parenting gig. Plus, we knew she was in perfectly capable hands. We just gave the grandparents some basic instructions on her apnea monitor, and since she was pro at going between breast and bottle (also due to her NICU stay) and I had a pump with a car adapter so I could take care of business on the go, it really wasn't a difficult event. All went well.

It was nice to clean up and dress up for the wedding, which was lovely:



Amidst the baby action, Jon and his dad had an opportunity to take out the boat and do a little fishing on Lake Houston.

Here are the guys a couple of their trophies:





We were also excited to be able to celebrate Jon's birthday with his parents and our girl before Louis and Diana took off for some adventures in travel for a while. It was also an interesting thought on January 6, Jon's 28th birthday, that at just past three weeks old, Meara was due to be born that same day. It was weird to imagine still having her in my belly after seeing this little person face to face for the last few weeks! Well, Jon got to keep his birthday for himself, and we were all happy to enjoy it with him.

Here's Meara singing to her daddy ... "Haaaaaaappy biiiiiiiiirthdaaaaay dear Daaaaaaaad, haaaaappy biiiiiiiirthdaaaaay tooooooo youuuuuuu!" ... I think I must have captured her somewhere in the middle of the chorus:



Even Nestle got up for the occasion:



Here's Jon showing his prowess as a new father. He's a multitasking pro, having mastered the football hold in conjunction with the thumb-as-pacifier move (we opted out of actual pacifiers):



Family portrait time:



Unfortunately, Meara's good humor didn't last through the photos with her grandparents. They were forgiving and still look tickled, though:



Jon wanted to go out to our favorite Mexican-food joint, Lupe Tortilla. So, after a dinner of fabulous fajitas and a tasty margarita for the birthday boy, Jon got a birthday song in Spanish, some free sopapillas and the coveted sombrero de cumpleanos to wear for a while:



Since Jon didn't have to share his birthday with Meara after all, he felt he could at least spare the sombrero for a bit so Meara could experience what it would have been like to have the same birthday:



Jon's parents left the next day with plans to meet back up with us at the end of the month for a camping trip, and my mom flew back in at the end of the week. It was great to have her again, and she was so glad to see Meara, who was still in the NICU when she left, finally at home where she belongs.

Mom's husband Bill came to visit some days later, and they both got to see our sweet pea on the day she turned one month old (so, so, so cute):



I wanted to capture what we call "baby-chick hair," which is a natural phenomenon that occurs after a washing in both father and child:



Everybody knows one of the perks of having a baby girl is how fun they are to dress and accessorize, and my mom takes this as a duty. Here is her manifestation of fashionbaby:



While Mom and Bill were in town, we celebrated a Biggerstaff-Brungardt Christmas. We had done a little Christmas before Mom left town last time, but we did another go because this time we had Meara and Bill present. Below is a pic of Meara next to one of her gifts from her Nana and Papa:



So what was the gift, you ask? It's an adorable three-in-one jumper/walker/activity center deal that may or may not function well, but I registered for it because it is made to look like a vintage red car and therefore is so darn cute that practicality took a back seat (hey, that's a car pun!). Anyway, it will be a while until we bust it out, but I'm sure you'll see pics to come.

Here are Mom and Bill and Jon after a fun round of gift opening:



If you look closely, you'll see the book I'm looking at in the pic below is called "Little Peachling." It's an antique copy my mom found for me. It's meaningful because I was in a play in elementary school called "Momotaro" of the same old Asian folklore story, and it's so great to have a mom who appreciates the sentimentality of memories from the nooks and crannies of my childhood. Thanks, Mom!



Although giving baths is something Jon and I decided would be primarily his thing for a while, I acknowledge there will be times, especially with Meara's aptitude for spitting up, that I have to step up in his absence. So, here I am taking care of the maintenance. Fortunately, Meara's bathitude (parenting creates all sorts of new words in one's mind!) has improved:



Here's Bill enjoying his first grandbaby (and wisely sporting the burp cloth):



Jon and Meara are both prone to naps, and they seem to find a peace in being near one another during a good snooze. They are one strangely small and one grossly oversized pea to be in the same pod, but they are precious nonetheless (with matching coloring and hairstyles, especially, one can see the similarities, though):



Mom and Bill were kind enough to babysit Meara while Jon and I went to a work function, so now the baby's had the pleasure of two grandparental-care evenings, and Jon and I have had two evenings to get out as a couple. Man, I will say I'm jealous of people who have local family and the benefits thereof! The evening went well, though I did have to field a phone call from Mom and tell her how to diffuse the monitor alarm, which was having issues again. Argh. They were good sports!

I'm sure you've all been curious about this apnea monitor, so despite my attempts to describe it, I'll go ahead and include a photo for the visual learners among you. Taaaa-daaaaaaa:



I wanted to give Meara a break from her monitor every now and then, but when she goes wireless, supervision is required. So, I started putting the swaddled baby on her lounger in the bathroom for a nap while I showered so I could keep an eye on her. One day, she managed to escape her swaddle during my shower, but her tossing and turning still did not wake her. I love that she is hugging her blanket:



Mom and Bill had to take off the next Monday, but we're hoping for another visiting opportunity in a few months.

The next photo is one of Jon's favorites, and his reasoning feels very aligned with male thinking. It appears she is ... ummm ... giving a defiant gesture of disapproval, which seems especially funny when coupled with her tender age, pleasant partial smirk and feminine little bow and bib.



Toward the end of the week, Jon and a friend took a fishing trip to Luca's Bayou. I like this triumphant photo of Jon:



That evening, a few days away from six weeks old, we found evidence of Meara's first tears! It's wild that babies generally take a while to actually cry tears. Who knew? See the shiny trail? I imagine this is one of the only times I'll be excited to see my daughter's tears! And look how she turns color!



And at the opposite end of the spectrum, the day she turned six weeks old, we got smiles! Every parent waits for the day of his or her baby's first legitimate smile; it's a huge payoff day. And boy, did she smile. She looks like a different kid when she breaks into her huge, dimpled, almost cartoonish grin, and it always makes me laugh! The slight crookedness of it comes from her daddy and grandpa Louis, although on her it is much more exaggerated. Adorable:



At the end of the month, I decided that after all those belly shots leading up to the birth, I might as well go ahead and include a post-baby belly shot, too, to remember my progress at this stage. I took this photo one day after Meara turned six weeks old; I'm still a little softer than I want to be, but I'm back in my jeans without the bellyband (they don't protest too much), and I'm within a handful of pounds from my prepreggie weight, to which I give a strong nod to breastfeeding, and after seeing my mom, you'd probably believe genetics had a little to do with it, as well!



With a few days left in January, we took our first overnight trip. The three of us and Nestle met up with Jon's parents and Mandy in Choke Canyon, where we all stayed in their RV. The guys got in some fishing, Jon's mom and I got to visit, and in sharing a small space, everyone had a little extra bonding time with the baby! We were able to stick to her feeding and sleeping schedule without much difficulty, also (just threw a blanket over the portacrib to provide a little barrier for sight and sound, and, like a bird, that's all it took!).

But, no matter how much sleep they get, babies are always up for a good yawn:



Ahhhh, the fishermen with their spoils ... Jon wanted it noted that he sported a nice bass, while his dad is showing off a lowly drum. Personally, I like catching drum, and I think there are uglier bottom feeders to be found. Anyway, aren't they cute in their hats and sunglasses:





On our last day, we loaded up our stuff and the baby, who was sad to go, but she managed to pull it together and look peaceful for this pic ... man, this kid's got serious eyebrows (again, thanks to her daddy). Love it:



Here we are before taking off, and fortunately, Jon's parents will come back through Houston again in a couple of weeks before they head back to Kansas City:



In case you're hungering for more baby tidbits, I thought I'd give a few fun facts on what Meara was up to by the end of this month:

• She's in the 50th percentile for height at 20.5 inches, in the 25th percentile for weight at 7 lbs., 12.75 oz. and the 25th percentile for head circumference at 35.5 cm. Not bad for an early bird!
• She takes 1-to-1.5-hour naps during the day after feeding and wake time. She sleeps well, only fussing for a few minutes at the beginning or middle of a nap, and we're having success getting her used to varied sleep conditions and locations.
• She eats every three hours starting around 9:30 a.m. then whenever she wakes naturally due to hunger at night; right now, she sleeps approximately five to six hours solid at night.
• She does a lot of screetching and arm flailing, so we've taken to calling her dragonbaby regularly.
• She loves when people sing to her, and she enjoys being on her lounger in the action.
• She does not love when the wait time between waking up and being fed is extended.
• She enjoys being shushed and calms right down with the famed Five S's: swaddling, side/stomach positioning in our arms, shushing, swinging (more like a light up-and-down shaking or vibrating) and sucking (a thumb to the mouth does the trick).
• She's learning to show hunger cues and self soothe by sucking her fist; she's also staying more chill during diaper changes and baths.

Looking toward February!

There's no place like home

December 22-31, 2008:

After our daughter had been in the NICU for an entire week, we drove back to her birth hospital for what we prayed would be the final time regarding her, and ... God obliged! When we arrived, the (preferred) neonatologist had done all he could to get a tech in to read her test results asap, and as it turns out, with the meds, she passed her last test. Our precious little student didn't realize one of the most important exams of her life would be within her first week!

Of course, it's not like we could spirit her away to our cozy home just like that. We did have to jump through some hoops in the name of better-safe-than-sorry conservative medicine. And although that had its annoyances, honestly, as a mother, there was a part of me that was very glad for that approach. One of our conditions was that we had to both be certified in infant CPR. Boy, I'll tell ya, I was glad I insisted Jon and I take that class while I was pregnant, because all we had to do to check that box was flash our paperwork. We also had to go over a nurse-prepared prescription schedule showing which meds she had to take and when. We had to have a little lesson where we demonstrated we knew how to fill the baby syringes to the proper amounts, etc., and repeat when we were to administer them. We also had to have oxygen delivered to our home in case she needed to receive oxygen while feeding, and of course, that came with a tutorial, as well. Finally, Meara was required to wear an apnea monitor full time, so we had to go through training for that.

Ahh, yes, the apnea monitor. That particular device is the most complicated baby accessory. It sports a couple electrodes that go on her chest in certain places to detect her heart rate and respiration, and the wires from the electrodes feed into a machine that has to go wherever she does. So, it basically looks like our infant is wired to a small cooler with blinking lights, you know, like a lot of babies. Yeah. It's kind of a pain and solicits some concerned and confused looks from people ... if you know my personal headgear story, you know I know about that particular brand of public humiliation. Ahem. It records any problems in her breathing and heartrate, and when the recorder is full, techs come in, download the recording and restore the machine's empty memory until next time it fills. Then, the downloads are sent to a specialist, who interprets the info and writes up a report and sends it to her pediatrician, who gives us explanations and medical advice accordingly. Cake, right?

Anyway, if her heart rate drops below a certain point or gets above a certain point, the alarm goes off. If her breaths are too close together or too far apart, the alarm goes off. Remember the movie Speed? The whole thing sort of makes me get the part of Keanu Reeves, who is on the bus that has to maintain a specific speed so a bomb doesn't go off, but he isn't the one driving, nor does he have the trigger, so therefore he has limited control. Feels familiar. Maybe I can set it up to record her ideal rates in a loop, therfore outsmarting the machine and averting disaster ... wait ... I guess this isn't the movie, and I need to remember this machine is actually meant to save lives and not blow them to pieces. Ok, fine. So, we got all learned up on the monitor, signed off on everything and squared up our NICU tab (a minor copay -- seriously, thank the Lord for awesome Exxon insurance, because that kiddo racked up a monster bill, not to mention what she'll add over the next several months with prescriptions, checkups, outpatient testing and this monitor).

With all of that, we finally gathered up our NICU bag o' goodies; we got to take home all the stuff they had to take care of her there, like diapers, wipes, bathing cloths, her baby-burrito swaddle straightjacket (this fantastic cloth thing that you could put a swaddled baby in then tie up to secure the baby's swaddled position), toiletries, etc. -- it was like the spoils from a hotel stay or a celebrity party! Kind of. But that wasn't the best part. The best part was leaving. So, we liberated our girl. For the first time, Meara met the outside world!

Here we about to take Meara home in my mom-mobile little SUV, which my mom decorated with a big welcome-home heart on the baby's window; Meara is strapped in to her carseat, monitor attached, bundled up and ready to ride:

On the way home, we had a bit of a scare. We were on the highway, barely out of the med center, when Meara's alarm went off. Scary! We both kind of looked at each other like, "that was fast ... now what?" then Jon had me get in the back seat with the baby to check on her and reset her alarm. No, I was not already in the back with the baby. It's ironic, because Jon always made a big deal about how he thinks a mom and dad should ride together in front on the way home from the hospital, because the marriage supercedes the addition of a child, and besides, what's going to happen that a parent has to be supervising a sleeping baby in a carseat? Well, we found out. By the time I got back to her, her alarm stopped and she seemed ok, but then a few seconds later, it went off again. It's like being a foot away from a smoke-detector siren. It's really that loud and piercing, which is great for getting attention, but it sort of induces panic, in my opinion. Who can think through what to do with that kind of noise? After resetting the machine, I watched her for several minutes to make sure she was breathing appropriately, then I got back into the front seat, and we finished our ride home. Yes, it was difficult for me to sit back up front because I was a little startled at that point, but Jon reminded me I wouldn't be riding in back with her for the next several months she'd have the machine, so I had to start getting used it it off the bat, which was true. Sigh. No judging, people!

Before my mom went back to KC the day before, she kindly decorated our yard with signs declaring our good news. All of our neighbors were curious about the baby's sex since they'd gotten to know me and my mystery baby bump more during the hurricane, so mom helped us spread our parental pride:



Here's the sign provided by the hospital for our recovery room door to brag our stats; mom transferred it to our tree so interested persons could get the details:



Here is Meara's nursery, complete with welcome gifts from loved ones:



Here is our sweet setup for our top-notch infant-SCUBA-diving training facility:



Fine, we do not in reality run said business. The above is actually the massive oxygen tank, complete with smaller travel tanks, for Meara should she need oxygen while feeding. At least it matches her nursery color scheme.

Here is Meara with her daddy in her nursery for the first time; the thumb of his left hand (under her head) is parallel with her arm, so you can compare and see how brand-new little she is! Granted, Jon has big paws, but you get the gist.




Jon was also pretty firm on the idea that Meara would sleep in her own bed in her own room from night one of her homecoming. I wrestled with that a little, because I knew I'd be nursing her, and the idea of getting up and marching to the other end of the house every few hours throughout the night didn't excite me. But I understood that Jon having to hear the baby off and on all night when he resumed working didn't seem ideal, either. Since Jon had already burned a week of his paternity leave, he'd be returning to work the Monday after Christmas, one week away, so it didn't make a lot of sense to get into the habit of him getting up to bring me the baby, either, when I knew that duty would fall on me in a matter of days anyway. So, hoping for a greater good down the line, I agreed, and we wired up her alarm, swaddled her, tied her into her baby straightjacket, put her in her positioner (on her side to avoid choking on spitup and to keep her from getting flat-head syndrome ... you know what I'm talking about), tucked a blanket over her (yes, far from her face), kissed her, said goodnight, turned out the lights and shut the door. Since she's on a three-hour feeding schedule, I knew it wouldn't be long before I saw her again.

Here's our precious bundle all snug as a bug in a rug:



Fortunately, I felt peaceful about not being right there with her. A lot of new moms I'd spoken to voiced fears about leaving their babies asleep in their own space. It's scary to think about the "what-if" issues like SIDS, etc., but aside from a lot of prayers, I had the help of technology, as well. For one thing, our baby monitor (not talking about the apnea monitor here) is fantastic; it's the kind that's not only audio but also visual. We set up the camera on her crib, so with the touch of a button, we could also see her whenever we wanted -- the beautiful little face and gentle rise and fall of her tiny body. The camera has night vision, so darkness wasn't an issue. I hope it still works when she's 16 -- no boys are going to sneak by us. Then, of course, we had the apnea monitor. Although a bit of a pain, it gave me peace of mind. I knew that should something go wrong with Meara, the alarm would go off, and we could be there to help her in enough time to make a difference; I didn't have to worry about the ultimate newborn-parent fear of my child slipping away quietly. Ugh; I almost couldn't even type that. Shudder, shudder, shudder. So, the whole NICU debacle did yield the use of a machine that calmed some of my anxieties.

Aaaaand slumber had barely touched our eyelids before the alarm went off for the first time of the night. Toward the end of pregnancy, sleep often becomes somewhat elusive for a woman, and I believe it's God's way of preparing her for mommyhood. I used to be such a heavy sleeper, and now, a snake's sneeze would wake me up (yes, as a snake owner, I have actually heard this before). So, that alarm had me straight up and tearing into the baby's room at Olympic speed. Of course, with the ever-burning flourescent lights, constant nurse chatter, scattered alarm soundings, machine beeps and handling for vital-signs checking and med administration, the NICU had prepared her for sleeping through armageddon, so it didn't effect her at all. I checked her out, reset the alarm and went back to bed. Then it happened again. And again. And after more repeats, Jon saw my frayed nerves and exhausted face and told me to go ahead and bring her in while he set up her portacrib right next to me so checking her and resetting her alarm wouldn't involve getting in and out of bed. Phew!

Long story less long, it turns out her electrodes were not adhering properly, so the machine was misreading, and we replaced the electrodes. However, within a short period of time, we requested nonadhesive electrodes with a velcro band to hold them in place. That seemed to keep things secured much better and seemed easier on her skin, as well. Eventually, though, after continued nights of the alarm going off literally every few minutes or even seconds (I must have looked like a zombied-out jack-in-the-box, popping up and down in a semi-conscious state, my trained hand going through the monotonous motions of feeling for breath and heart rate then expertly finding and resetting the alarm buttons in record time -- similar to people's snooze routine), we asked the machine be replaced with one that might function better. We could tell it was having issues with inaccuracy, because it would register she wasn't breathing when we could see and feel she was. At one point, we were so desperate, we just turned it off, and I would put my hand on her every once in a while when I naturally woke up to check her. Sounds risky, but having a life depend on me while crazily sleep deprived wouldn't have been much better.

Anyway, just a few days after she arrived home, we got to celebrate her first Christmas. Before she was born, I'd been able to scrape together a few decorations (I feel like now that I'm a parent, I need to try harder). Here's our fireplace, dressed with gift-full stockings (Jon's, then mine, then Meara's mini stocking, then Nestle's and one for Jon's parents' dog Mandy, then one for Louis then Diana):



Here is Mandy getting into her stocking ... apparently, her thought process was to intimidate it by staring it in the eyes mercilessly, therefore forcing its submission of treats:



Nestle, a stocking veteran, knew exactly where to strike, and he expertly extracted his goodies:



Here's Meara, anxiously awaiting her turn to partake in the action:



She ran over, got her gift from us, jumped back on the couch and put on the Santa hat Diana gave her in time to pose for the camera. Hmmm, I guess she must have been blinking in this pic:



By the way, the bruising on her left hand in the above photo is not from us! It's from I.V. treatment in the NICU. Sniffle.

We got her a little Eric Carle (author of "The Hungry Caterpillar," etc.) book, called "Do You Want To Be My Friend," I think, which came with a plush version of its protagonist. Honestly, I like Carle, but I bought it for the blue elephant. Meara's obviously totally psyched. She couldn't stop reading it aloud to us. I guess she's blinking again:



The next day, she had her first post-NICU pediatrician visit with her new baby doctor, Dr. Hassel. I chose to go with a doctor other than the one she had assigned at the hospital from her birth, because I wanted one who not only had an affiliation with the Children's Hospital but also who was local and recommended by friends. Turns out, it was a great choice. I really like Dr. Hassel, and Jon and I enjoyed meeting her at this appointment. We went over her brief but impressive medical history; normally a checkup isn't required so early on, but because of her NICU stay, the hospital required an appointment within her first two weeks of life. We'll have a followup appointment in less than one week. Geez.

That evening, even though her umbilical cord had not fallen off, Jon wanted to give her a basin bath rather than the standard washcloth wiping down. We're breaking all the rules here, folks! At this stage, we easily determined Meara does not like baths:



The best part about baby baths? Hoodie towels, hands down:



A couple days later, with a cleaner baby to show off, we ventured out for Meara's first restaurant experience. Jon's parents took us to Red Lobster -- mmmmmm! When Jon's grandparents (Diana's parents B.A. and Emilia) were alive, B.A. would always take me and Emilia out for crab legs, because we shared an affinity for them, and no one else in the family had quite the enthusiasm for them that the two of us did. Then, when Emilia passed away, B.A. continued the tradition by taking me out for crab legs when we visited. Now that they're both gone, Jon's parents carry the torch, and I still get crab legs. I do like this tradition. I also got the chance to put on real clothes (not just p.j.s or sweats!), makeup and get out of the house. A lot of folks quarantine their babies in their first weeks of life, but for some reason, we did not feel the need to subscribe to that particular parenting philosophy. Come on: Red Lobster is calling! Anyway, she slept the whole time, not stirring until we got the check, on cue, and we got lots of compliments on our beautiful and well-behaved daughter.

Look how tiny and cozy and precious she is in her carseat:

That night, Meara also went back to her own crib in her own room. We left the portacrib in our room for a more local changing station or occasional naps, but otherwise, we committed to the nursery being her nursery, and it went pretty well. By this time, the new velcroed electrodes and replaced apnea monitored helped calm things down considerably, and the alarm events were quite reduced. Getting up and making the little trek to her room every three hours was a challenge, but when it's your baby, and she depends on you, there aren't really any serious complaints. The hardest part was that she took sooooooo looooooong to nurse (we're talking, like, up to an hour), that we'd both be nodding off by the time we finished, but that's just the way it is with some babies. I hear over time most babies get to be more efficient eaters. We shall see.

The other frustrating thing is all the spitup. Despite the medicine, this kid can puke. I've started calling her Mount Meara ... affectionately. Burp rags are my constant companion, and Nestle follows me around when I'm holding her like that crazed Tomacco (tobacco-infused tomato) -addicted sheep from that Simpsons episode, waiting to lap up any loss of containment. Thank God she doesn't get upset about her eruptions; she doesn't cry or anything, but at 2 a.m., when I have to choose between showering or collapsing back into bed, there are some scary results. To tell a particularly nasty-but-true mommy story, I once tracked a spoiled-milk smell for an entire day only to realize it was nestled in my tresses! She'd puked in my hair the night before, but I was so tired, I just went back to bed in my stupor and didn't realize until late into the next day that the reason anything I put near my head offended my senses was because it actually was my head! Gross! Do I get an award? Yes. Yes, I do. A beautiful, beautiful, barfing award. Ahhhhh, mommyhood.

The day after Jon went back to work, Meara had a successful grocery-store run. I went with Jon's parents, and we were able to get in and out without any trouble from Meara. I will say, though, that unless you are super-model tall, putting the carseat on top of the kiddie bench in the cart is impractical and blinding. Also, placing it in the basket is awkward and creates a serious limit on grocery space. I quickly decided the baby Bjorn carrier is the way to go when shopping.

Anyway, Meara also had a good followup appointment with her pediatrician, and when Jon got home, we decided to celebrate by taking Meara for her first walk. It was sunny out but still a little chilly, so we bundled her up, put her in her carseat, and placed the carseat in the stroller. Then, of course, we had to attach the carseat securely to the stroller with giant red straps, like she's going on a rollercoaster, because like every American, we take our walks at a brisk 107 miles per hour; hang on, baby:



Good thing my amazing shutter speed can capture Jon:



I took over and slowed things down so Nestle could join our walk baby-ride style. Yes, he's a ways from his old weiner-dog racing days, but he still gets by with a little help from his friends:



Man, that walk was exhausting. Nap time:



Well, the end of the year was upon us before we knew it. We thought we might as well send her into the new year clean and sparkling, so we gave her another bath:



Her opinions of baths still hasn't seemed to have improved much, but Jon does a good job nonetheless. I'm glad I requested a new baby-bathing-friendly faucet for Christmas. Well done, Jon -- gotta get both sides:



And, in true baby style, juuuuust as the hoodie goes on, the puke comes out. Nice:



So, here we go again; back in the tub, baby:



After the traumatic bathing incident, Meara and Jon cuddled up for a little pre-bedtime nap. Isn't being a baby grand? Pre-bedtime nap. Awesome. Anyway, it was a lovely evening with Jon's parents, where we continued our old tradition of the SciFi channel's Twilight Zone marathon (which we interrupted once to watch an installment of Planet Earth) and freezer-section bar food (I like to cook up jalepeno poppers, mozz sticks and the like). Happy New Year!

So, having Meara home has been sweet, and I look forward to filling you in on our adventures in the upcoming year. See y'all in 2009! Here's a parting shot: