Volcano Story

Hattie Rose dictated a story for Sarah today--her first ever original creation she wanted written down. It's sign she's following in her father's footsteps. It's also a sign of ... well ... here it is:

"A large volcano. Spread out and burned! This rocks! And the people was dead. And the bones. And the blood. And it's arms, and it's head. And it blowed down."

Ed. note: "This rocks!" refers to the actual rocks flying out of the volcano, as in "These are rocks!" or, in the children's colloquial, "This is rocks!"

Tilly's Birth Story

First and foremost, I'd like to note that I caught her. Literally. She was dropping toward the floor and I stuck my hand out and caught her like she was a softball.

But a lot happened before that.

Sarah and I had been planning a home birth. Hattie, after all, was born at home (yes, by choice), and by all accounts, she's turned out fine. At 2-years-old and counting, she's talking and walking and pretending to be a giant spider--all the normal things.

Some mounting complications prompted us to reconsider our original plan. As this long-stagnant blog has indicated, Sarah spent a while in the hospital for a stomach bug. Shortly after her recovery, we were forced to move into a new house. We believe her sickness and the stress of the move conspired to start contractions, far too early. She went on bed rest.

Once she got her contractions under control, Sarah's blood pressure began rising, to borderline dangerous levels. We worked at keeping her healthy, and rest coupled with a high-protein diet seemed to be effective, taking us into a window in which the baby was considered full term.

Two weeks before her due date, Sarah began to have trouble feeling the baby move. After a particularly long stretch of apparent fetal inactivity (about 18 hours), we went to the hospital to get checked out. Turns out the baby was fine with a strong heartbeat, but Sarah's amniotic fluid was almost dangerously low.

Together, we considered the string of complications and consulted with our midwife and an OB who helped us when Sarah had been sick. We all ultimately agreed that induction would be the safest route, especially since the baby was doing so well (even if she wasn't really moving around). We could wait and try to get Sarah's amniotic fluids back up to safe levels, but if she worsened, we'd be going into labor with a less-healthy baby and more stressed Sarah.

The biggest relief to Sarah came in learning that she wouldn't have to be given any Pitocin--her biggest fear. In fact, all she needed was Cervidil, a minimally invasive drug that would kickstart contractions. It didn't even go in her bloodstream.

After making the decision to induce, we were checked into a birthing suite at French Hospital. We decided to pretend like we were at a hotel with room service--people brought us food, there was a TV and an adjustable bed, and staffers changed the sheets if necessary.

We hastily wrote a birth plan, noting that Sarah didn't want any pain medications, that I wanted to catch the baby if possible and cut the cord, and we generally wanted as natural a birth as safe and possible. All of the nurses and our OB agreed with the plan. We were impressed with how receptive everyone was to our wishes. The first nurse who attended Sarah noted that she had had a home birth 30 years earlier and believed in the birthing process. She assured us she would make sure that her replacement at the next shift felt the same way.

Sarah got her first dose (and an IV with hydrating fluids and some antibiotics, too) at about 6 p.m. on Sunday. Sporadic contractions began after a few hours and ran throughout the night. At the next morning, they gave her a second dose, and regular contractions soon began in earnest. She eventually hit her stride and labored mostly with just the two of us (and occasional visits from the nurses). Sarah didn't want anyone else around--probably in reaction to Hattie's birth, attended by myself, our midwife, her three assistants, both our moms, Sarah's sister, our friend Andrea, and her newborn Natalie. This time around, Sarah wanted me and only me. I was husband, father, and doula all rolled into one.

Our nurse, Suzanne, complimented Sarah on how well she relaxed and responded to my voice and touch. She said she could tell that we worked well together as a couple.

Throughout the labor, Sarah threw up several times, but that was still a marked improvement upon her first labor experience. She thinks the IV keeping her hydrated was a big part of how good she felt.

At about 1 p.m., Sarah was checked: 7 centimeters. Sarah got up to take a long, hot shower, and then her mom and sister brought Hattie so they'd be ready when the pushing started.

At about 3 p.m., the doctor checked Sarah again. She was at 8 centimeters, and the OB felt Sarah would labor for a while longer. Sarah's sister, Mary Rose, stuck around for support, and I continued encouraging Sarah to relax, change positions often, and go to the bathroom.

On one trip to the bathroom, she began pushing. I know, because I asked her: "Are you pushing?" She said she couldn't stop, so I called the nurse in. Sarah's bag of waters broke. I looked, and could see the baby crowning. The nurse told Sarah to walk back to the bed between contractions, but Sarah asked if she could have the baby on the toilet. When the nurse told her that wasn't an option, Sarah decided to get on all fours on the bathroom floor, which was fine by everyone.

She pushed once, maybe twice more. Our nurse, Suzanne, was calm and happy. Staffers stuffed blankets and liners as best they could under Sarah's hands and legs. The doctor arrived and asked for oil. I looked and saw a bulge where the baby would be coming out and stuck my hand there. A moment later, Sarah gave a push, and at 3:30 p.m., Matilda Jane Miller's head dropped into my waiting palm. Her body flopped along my arm.

Sarah's mom and Hattie had been in the hallway, but came back when they heard what was clearly Tilly being born. Upon realizing that Grandma couldn't get into the room, Hattie assessed the situation and reached out for a passing nurse so she could get in on the action.

In the bathroom, I quickly lifted Tilly to my chest, and in so doing accidentally tore the umbilical cord. Our doctor pinched off the cord and clamped it almost immediately for minimal blood loss to the baby. And she didn't even flinch. Seriously, the OB was a machine. We highly recommend her.

Someone asked Sarah how she felt, and she said, "I feel great!" My wife is awesome! Tilly was bundled and given to Sarah, who returned to bed to snuggle our new daughter and encourage her to nurse. Sarah suffered a second-degree tear (not as bad as with Hattie), but was otherwise fine.

Hattie almost immediately tried to feed Tilly some pretzels and apple juice. After a traditional post-partum dinner from Firestone (courtesy of the Rookses) and some light visiting, Sarah, Tilly, and I settled in for a good night's sleep before going home the next morning. Before we checked out, all of the staffers who had contibuted to our care checked in again. The nurse Suzanne told us she had been honored and blessed to be a part of Tilly's birth, which meant a lot to us.

We were honored and blessed by the help and encouragement we received from family, friends, and others throughout this pregnancy and birth. We're excited for you to meet Tilly, and if you've met her already, we're excited for you to see her again.

Hattie learns to type

A couple of nights ago, Hattie managed to cruise across the hearth and discover Ryan's vintage Underwood typewriter. She spent about 20 minutes carefully pushing a key, then reaching to touch the letter that popped up in response to her actions. She approached the typewriter with awe, curiosity, and respect, never banging on the keys or playing with it they way she does with other toys. She is truly Daddy's little girl.

The end of the world as we know it

We arrived home Saturday night from visiting our wonderful families for Thanksgiving. After Hattie expressed much delight at being in our own home again, we placed her on the floor to play while Ryan and I unpacked an organized the house. Ryan called me from the other room and we both witnessed Hattie CRAWLING for the first time. She was chasing her red ball around the living room. She can now get anywhere she wants to go using her low to the ground combat-style crawl (technically, in the child development world, hands and knees crawling is called creeping). She can move surprisingly quickly when she is motivated. So, we spent Sunday cleaning and beginning to baby proof our house. This is the first time we have lived in a house large enough for a full sized Christmas tree and, now, gone are my hopes of having at least one Christmas without a mobile baby interested in touching, exploring, and pulling on everything.

To me, the transition to a mobile baby is scarier than transitioning from no baby to having a baby. Yes, Hattie changed our lives tremendously the moment she was born, but now she is changing our house. Ryan's beloved books will need to be moved out of arms' reach (and that reach will only get higher in the coming months), furniture that can easily topple must be removed completely, outlets must be covered and cords hidden, floors vacuumed and mopped much more regularly. I can no longer leave Hattie to play on the floor while I do the laundry, cook dinner, or run to the bathroom. She has already developed that bizarre baby ability to bypass the toys meant for her in order to find and insert into her mouth the one potentially harmful thing that I forgot to move off the floor (yesterday it was the phone book).

So, yes, this is the end of the world as we know it, but I'm sure the unknown and the joy of watching Hattie learn and grow will be far more rewarding that the comfort of everything being the same.

The baby sits up

Last night Ryan called me from across the room to look at Hattie. He had been supporting her in a sitting position on the floor and let go for a moment to see what she would do. She sat there for about one minute, just looking back and forth between us like she wanted to say, "What are you getting all excited about? This is no big deal." Then she toppled to the side and began reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. She refused to sit up again so we could take pictures, so here she is reading.

"On Tuesday he ate through two pears, but he was still hungry."

Maybe I want to eat this book ...

"He was a beautiful butterfly!"

Adventures in Pumpkin Carving

Last night around 9:30 we realized we had yet to carve our pumpkins for Halloween. We decided to start carving even though we would be up late. Ryan covered our kitchen table in an old newspaper, made me a cup of tea, and started designing his pumpkin. My favorite task is picking the seeds out of the pumpkin guts and roasting them, I was able to do that for about 3 minutes before Hattie needed to nurse, but after awhile she decide to help. Here are some pictures of our first jack-o-lantern carving as a family of three...

Hattie playing with pumpkin guts- she is her mother's daughter!

Hattie is the Great Pumpkin!

Ryan's Masterpiece

Sarah's Masterpiece

Innocents abroad

Hattie joined us for the longest road trip of her life when we drove to Santa Barbara to attend the wedding of our friends Peter Michealsen and Xanthy Chu. Unsure as to how our five-week-old would handle the drive, we steeled ourselves for as many pit stops as necessary and began our journey a couple of hours earlier than necessary.

Much to our surprise (and delight), Hattie took the whole trip in stride. In fact, she seems to enjoy outings. She stays calm (usually) when buckled into her car seat, stares with wide-eyed wonder at new places, and curls comfortably into strangers' arms. Strangers to her, that is. They're our friends.

To be honest, Sarah and I were a tad apprehensive about the event. I knew Peter and Xanthy through Intervarsity at Cal Poly, and alumni weddings tend to double as reunions that stretch far into the night. While I reconnected with plenty of friends I hadn't seen in a while at the Michealsen-Chu affair, the ceremony and reception together clocked in at a neat five-and-a-half hours. It was the perfect length for a baby-toting couple.

We had tentatively planned to stay the night with some friends of Peter's family, but the success of the trip down inspired us to brave a drive back. Despite one minor crying episode, the return was as uneventful as the departure.

The wedding itself was a mix of East and West. While the ceremony stuck to fairly standard U.S fare (white dress, men in suits, etc.), the reception reflected Xanthy's Hong Kong roots, with the new bride in red and the groom in a custom-made black outfit to match. He's a Swede and fairly tall, so I think the style was adapted a bit for his frame. Still, the effect was impressive, especially when they danced to Paul Simon's "Something So Right."

Picture this

After several dozen photo shoots under my decidedly rookie eye (have you checked out the link to my photos over on the right?) Hattie participated in her first-ever professional photo shoot on June 22. Lisa Maksoudian (an award-winning photographer who, among other commendations, took best of show in the 2006 New Times photo contest) came to our house for a multi-hour session, and posted a sneak peak at some of the results on her image blog. See them at lisamaksoudian.bigfolioblog.com. Hattie is the baby modeling under the pseudonym of "h" if you don't recognize her.

Early elitism

Never being one to start small (except, perhaps, in physical mass), Hattie's first encounter with the world of literature was Pablo Neruda's Las Odas, from a bilingual edition, Odes to Common Things, which was a wedding present from our friends Brian Leonard and Angela Barley. I would have thought she'd ease into reading with something lighter, like, say the collected works of Dr. Seuss, or something by Shel Silverstein, or maybe even Edward Lear's Complete Nonsense (a wedding gift from our friend Joel Short). But no. A scant 24 hours after she was born, she was listening to the Nobel laureate's "Ode to the Table." Here's an excerpt:

"The world

is a table

engulfed in honey and smoke,

smothered by apples and blood.

The table is already set,

and we know the truth

as soon as we are called:

whether we're called to war or dinner

we will have to choose sides,

have to know

how we'll dress

to sit

at the long table,

whether we'll wear the pants of hate

or the shirt of love, freshly laundered.

It's time to decide,

they're calling:

boys and girls,

let's eat!"

She obviously took this poem to heart: There was both honey and blood at her birth, and some apples in the background. I didn't see any smoke, though. She has since worn the shirt of love--many shirts of love, in fact, freshly laundered after each spit up. And she has heeded the call to the table with great gusto, sometimes eating for two hours at a stretch. Needless to say, Sarah has been tired from all of the late-night nursing sessions, but I'm happy to know that Hattie has been nourished in mind as well as body.