One of my workmates emailed me about her dreams this week. She told me that even though her friends seemed to have given up on saving the world as they got older, she hasn’t been able to. She still wants to make a difference and a consequential one. She wrote, “I know you are going to think this is crazy, young, and idealistic, but I still want to save the world…” I don’t think it’s crazy. It’s idealistic but definitely not young. If only young people can be idealistic, I think that makes the world a very sad place once we’re past our twenties.

Now that I have a child in this world, I believe I have even more reason to want it to be perfect. While my understanding of perfect and the boundaries of my possible effect in the world might change, my need to make it a better place hasn’t and hopefully will never go away. I still want to start a nonprofit. I still think that you can change the world and I still want to be only surrounded by those who believe in the power of change.

I never understood the cynicism that I saw in some of my friends. While I can understand that there can be experiences that lead one to question life and the way things work, I don’t understand the advantages of cyncism. What good is it? Does it make the person happier? Does it make the world more livable? Does it mean you’ve won somehow? I feel like it gives you nothing but negative energy that makes the rest of your life even more bleak and even more depressing.

If one chose to stick by their dreams and maybe alter them to be more realistic, more reachable, in smaller increments, wouldn’t that make their life more enjoyable? Wouldn’t it give them something to look forward to each day? Teach For America was a pretty depressing experience for me and I suffered a lot but I still think it’s a wonderful organization and I am glad it exists. Would I like it to be doing some things differently? Sure. But at least they are there, trying. That’s more than many of us.

I hope more people out there are like my work friend and still chasing a version of their dreams. Those are the people who will change the world and make it a better place for all of us.

Our little baby turns one month old today. He’s been in this world for four weeks. He has grown from 6 pounds 13 ounces to 9 pounds 1 ounce. His hair has turned lighter and grown a lot. His eyes are even bluer than they were when he joined us. Even though I know it’s not purposeful, his smiles are already heartbreaking.

Here’s a list of google-queries I’ve made in the last month:

Thrush
Post-partum depression
Over-active letdown
Acid Reflux
Australian-hold
Breastfeeding with a fever
Mastitis
Curdled vs Hindmilk
Breastfeeding and peanutbutter
Gripe water downsides
Newborn stuffy nose relief
Baby massage
Umbilical cord care
Washing poop stains

Most of them were the overactive imagination of a new mom. One month down, millions more to go.

We love you more than words can express, David. Happy one month birthday.

It has now been two weeks since David has joined our family. There are so many little things that he does which I want to document daily but between feeding him, working, changing him, and sleeping, I seem to have zero free time to even brush my teeth. But I do think it’s important to document these precious days that will go by so quickly. I am open to suggestions on the most efficient way to do that. I will try to do regular updates here soon again and I promise it won’t be all about the baby, I just need some consistent sleep first.

When we found out that I was expecting, my doctor calculated my due date to be February 8th. The pregnancy.com website calculated it to be February 5th. When we did the 17-week ultrasound, we were told February 2nd. So when the 2nd and the 5th came and went, I was pretty depressed. As much as I wasn’t experiencing the bloating that comes with the ninth month, I was ready for the baby to come out so I could see the creature I’d been carrying around for months.

On Monday, the 7th, we went for our doctor’s visit. My doctor was scheduled to leave town on the 12th and if the baby didn’t come by then, we were guaranteed to have a different doctor for the birth. One that we never met. So we decided to induce the next night and got an appointment for 7pm. As soon as we left the doctor’s office, I felt terrible. Obviously the baby wasn’t ready to come and forcing him/her out because I want to have my doctor present sounded so selfish suddenly.

Jake and I spent the next four hours talking about whether we should induce or not. We knew all might go well but we also knew that inducing meant a higher chance of c-section and more drugs for the baby and possibly a much more painful labor. We decided that there were going to be many decisions where we were going to have to put our kid before us and there was no reason not to start now. So we went to bed knowing we were going to call my doctor the next morning and cancel the induction.

At midnight, my water broke. I was sleeping and felt it all oer the bed, it was the weirdest feeling. I called the hospital cause I wasn’t sure it was my water. They said to come in and they would let me know. We got to the hospital at 1am and they said my water had indeed broken and I wasn’t going anywhere. I was only 2.5cm dilated and normally they don’t admit you in the hospital until you are 4cm except for when your water breaks. I asked that we wait as long as possible before they give me medication to induce and was told they could wait six hours. They sent me up to labor and delivery and hooked me up to the machines. The night nurse, Heather Bacon, was awesome and helped us relax. Around 3:30, I told Jake he should sleep just in case it’s a long night/day. At that point, my contractions were more regular but still painless. Within an hour, I went from no pain to acute pain. I couldn’t breathe or move. On the way to the bathroom, I’d have two contractions, and three more on the way back. Heather came in to check on me and see if I wanted medication and I said not yet.

Another hour later I was in so much pain that I finally woke Jake up. As I was talking to him, Heather came in again and I asked her to check how far along I was. She said I was 5cm and could get an epidural if I wanted. We discussed it for a while and finally at 6am, I got an epidural. Whoever says epidurals hurt must obviously have not experienced labor. I was in so much pain at that point that I felt literally no pain from the epidural and as soon as he put it in, my pain disappeared. It was like a miracle.

An hour after the epidural, I was already 9.5cm so they called my doctor and told me to start pushing. Two hours and fifty minutes later, our little boy was born. The pushing wasn’t a huge amount of fun but his head full of hair was very encouraging and helped me push.

All the horror stories I had heard about labor turned out not to be the case for me. The breastfeeding was a bit hard the second day since David didn’t want to swallow. But we’ve got it down now. I had very little to recover from so getting back to normal wasn’t a long way. I worked on Monday before David came and we checked out of the hospital on Thursday, Friday morning I was working again. People had told me it would be impossible to work with him at home and so far that hasn’t been true either. Thankfully, none of the things I feared came true.

All in all, labor was less painful than 9 months of pregnancy and David is such a peaceful, wonderful baby that we feel blessed and overjoyed every minute of every day.

Baby is not here yet.

I haven’t been able to update because my parents came to town on Sunday and we’ve been running errands galore since then. We’ve taken what used to be Jake’s room and then became an empty room and made a complete baby room out of it. It has a crib with a mobile, matress, sheets and bumpers, drawers full of clothes and a changing table, a bed (which was there for guests and will stay there) full of stuffed animals and toys. Two vibrating bouncers, a baby monitor, a playpen thingie, the stroller, a closet with diapers, nail clippers, thermometer and baby medicine, books, video tapes, and a box full of toys. Most bought and all set up in the last four days. I also have a rocking chair with ottoman in the living room and a pack’n’play with crib and changing table in the bedroom.

We have packed our hospital bags which are to be finalized today. I’ve made 5 hospital CDs for labor. We bought the bestest camcorder: JVC’s Everio which was something we drooled about but didn’t think we could get. Presents are so wonderful. The camera is packed and so is the camcorder. The birthing ball is blown up and pillows are ready.

I’ve already read the first six chapters of The Baby Book and watched The Happiest Baby on the Block with Jake. We made a list of possible names for girls and boys. We’ve cleaned up the rooms and washed all the baby clothes and toys we received. We bought extra detergent so we don’t have to leave if we generate baby laundry faster than we can go out. I don’t need formula since, hopefully, I come equipped with the baby food. I do have to eventually get a pump but we’re going to wait a bit on that.

My doctor’s out of town until Monday so I hope the baby can wait that long, but otherwise we seem to be all set. Or at least as set as we’ll get. Now all we can do is wait and hope that labor isn’t too too bad and much more importantly, that the little one is healthy.

We’re waiting for you anxiously, little baby.

As a child, I often wondered what made someone an adult. When was the magical time that you crossed over from being a child to being a responsible adult? My mom looked liked an adult. She acted like an adult. Her face, her conversation, even her toes were those of an adult. At the time, I figured once I was over my teens, I’d be an adult, too.

As the years passed, I didn’t feel like an adult and I didn’t think I looked like an adult. Not the way my mom did. Even though I discovered that she can behave like a child, too, I still thought my mom was more of a “grown up” than I was. College didn’t change that. Neither did moving into my very first apartment. Neither did getting a full time job and making more money than she ever did. It felt like maybe I was never going to grow up.

Lately, I’ve been thinking that maybe crossing over the threshold to having my own kids is when I cross over the threshold to becoming an adult. This is officially the time when I am going to be much more concerned about another living being than I am about myself. Not that there aren’t times I put myself after Jake or my family or a friend. But this is permanent and it’s constant. This little baby, and later the child and even the adult, will always come before me. I will have to learn to push other people away kindly but firmly to protect the well being of my baby. I will have to learn to make major progress on my “hangups” because now they are affecting an unsuspecting third party who never signed up to deal with my issues. Even if I don’t feel it, I’m going to have to learn to act the part of a grown-up. It’s all a bit overwhelming and scary. What if I mess it up?

I know what everyone says, “all you can do is your best.” But this is a huge responsibility. It’s not something to be taken lightly. I think my mom always looked like an adult cause she had us very young. She was only 21 when my sister is born. She learned to grow up very quickly. Over the years she adopted and looked the part of a grown up. And now it’s my turn. And I plan to take it seriously.



Though I still don’t think my toes look like a grown-up’s.