Blogger Dad » parenthood

Separation anxiety squared

David — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 09:12:32 +0000

(note: this was a quick post done late at night, so it lacks the usual editing, photos or anything which makes the post a bit more palatable than my endless rambling.)

My son is experiencing separation anxiety.

Well, I should say, the whole house is experiencing my son’s separation anxiety.

At 19 months old, E is starting to need mommy and daddy A LOT! He MUST be with us at all times.

Sometimes, it’s cute. Like when he wants me to lay on the floor in the living room and play with him. If I already have a couch pillow on the floor – from an earlier play session – he pats it and says, “da da” and waits for me to lay next to him.

Today, he was all set to play with some of his connecting blocks when he noticed I didn’t have a pillow. He ran to the couch, grabbed it, and carried it over with two hands and placed it gently on the floor next to me and patted where he wanted me to lay my head.

“Da da”

Those kinds of moments melt my heart.

However, at night, it’s another story.

He is having on again/off again sleep problems. He’s had several bouts of either not going to bed on time or waking up and refusing to go back to sleep.

Last week, he was up until 2:30 a.m. one night – refusing to sleep, despite his normal bedtime routine being adhered to.

Normally, we bathe him, give him a snack, let him play and wind down and then read to him and give him a bottle with a little bit of milk while he lays in mine or my wife’s lap as we sit on the couch. Normally, this works like a charm and he falls asleep and we carry him to bed, and all is okay in the world.

Last week was not a normal week.

He either wakes up as we carry him to his room or he wakes up after we put him in the crib. Then he screams and cries and we have to repeat the whole bedtime process – well the laying on the couch part.

On Friday he wouldn’t fall asleep until 2:30 a.m.

On Saturday morning, when I woke up, my son saw me and got frightened – like I was going to put him to bed. My wife told him to give me a kiss. Only after he realized that I wasn’t going to take him to bed, would he consent.

Later, I read up on some sleep training, e-mailed a few people and got pretty much the same advice – break him of his need cold turkey. However, some people say doing so puts a psychological stress on your child and you should NEVER leave them alone when they are having separation anxiety.

I decided to try the cold turkey route, and hope I’m not turning him into a future psycho, or worse, writer/artist/blogger.

Saturday night, he fell asleep in my arms on the couch at 10:00 p.m. I put him down in his room, made it to the hallway where I was giving myself a congratulatory fist pump for getting him to sleep, when, “WAAAAA!!”

Crap!

I went in once, attempted to soothe him, but decided that I would not bring him back to the living room. He was not happy. I put him back in his crib. He cried for about 45 minutes total.

These kinds of moments break my heart.

He slept, though. It worked.

Sunday night, he went down about 8:40 p.m. I thought all would be okay until 12:30 a.m. when he started screaming.

I know he has been teething today, so I gave him some Infant’s Tylenol. I changed his diaper and gave him a bottle. I tried to put him back to bed after that.

That’s when he went ballistic. Long story short, I spent nearly three hours waiting him out on the couch, watching him fall asleep, only to have him wake each time I tried to get up and bring him to bed.

At 3:27 a.m. – yes, I remember the time – I said enough is enough and brought him to bed. He cried for about five minutes then fell asleep.

I am beat.

Not sure what I’ll do tomorrow. One of us is going to break. Odds are good it will be me.

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Our baby story part five: Hello, world

David — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 07:15:58 +0000

(This is part five in a five part series detailing the birth of our son. You might want to start with part one.)

While many people choose to have a C-section for various reasons ranging from medical need to convenience, my wife wanted to tough it out and have our baby the “old fashioned way.” And by old fashioned, I mean breathing, grunting, pushing and writhing in pain for nearly 24 hours.

Meanwhile, entered and exited a number of hospital staffers who attempted to give her an epidural. I say attempt because apparently everyone who knew what the hell they were doing had taken the day off.

What ensued was a nightmarish daisy chain of people poking and prodding attempting to thread the needle into my wife’s spine while she was doubled over in pain. I knelt on the floor beneath her for support as she clutched my hands and shoulders VERY tightly.

I would have given anything at the time to switch places with her.

All the while, nurses made visits to see if my wife was dilated enough to begin the birthing process. They wanted her to give birth within 24 hours of her water breaking -after that, the odds of something going wrong increased, they warned. Time for a natural birth was quickly ticking away. If nothing happened soon, the doctor suggested that a C-section would be necessary.

The look on my wife’s face was of utter disappointment, as if she had somehow failed. She cried. I cried for her, though I hid it. Her mother and I, along with the doctor, tried to lift her spirits and congratulated her for battling for as long as she did. She suffered through the pain a whole hell of a lot longer than I would have!

She relented and said yes to the procedure.

I pulled the doctor aside and asked if she was in any danger from the C-section. He didn’t mince words, warning me, “Well, with any operation, there is always some danger, but it is a very routine procedure and things should be okay.”

Thanks, doc, that was re-assuring.

My mind flashed on all the horror stories I’d heard or read while new ones unfurled on the movie screen in my mind. As the doctor rolled my wife out of the room, fear began to choke me. Fear that something would go wrong with either her or our baby. I looked at her, told her I loved her, I think I kissed her – just in case.

Waiting is the hardest part

I was asked to stand outside the surgery room until they got her prepped. I was told it would be a few minutes, but time was stretching into infinity. Fear returned like a spurned lover, gnawing at me, whispering unsweet notions in my ear. What the hell was taking so long?

Something was wrong. God, please no. I found myself praying, though I am agnostic at best.

So, this is what parenthood is like? Lot’s of fear and feeling helpless.

Soon, the surgery room doors swung open and I was invited to sit down beside my wife’s head which was resting on a surgery table. Doctors, equipment and lights surrounded her as the show was about to being. The rest of her body was blocked off by a blue curtain. I was advised that I might not want to look behind the curtain.

Blogger Dad words of wisdom: When someone says not to look behind the curtain, don’t look behind the curtain.

I did. And saw in the mirror above the operating table as doctors were opening my wife up. You should never have to see your loved ones’ internal organs.

Suddenly, my wife began to say she felt pain. Whatever they had given her had worn off. Suddenly a doctor scrambled to inject more medicine into an IV.

She was so vulnerable there on the table and fear began to whisper again, it’s cold harsh warning of all the things that could go wrong. Suddenly a scene began to play out in my mind where my wife suddenly felt everything, started screaming and something horrible would happen to her or our baby. I prayed again.

Whatever they gave her seemed to work.

Soon, doctors were pulling my son out. I expected a cry but I didn’t hear one.

Fear chattered louder.

Then, nurses rushed him over to another area.

Fear again, “what’s wrong, why are they bringing him there?”

Then he cried.

A sigh of relief from me.

I was asked if I wanted to cut the cord. I declined. Let the pro’s handle it.

And now introducing…

My hear began to pound as the moment where I would first get a good look at my son was about to occur. Emotions flooded my system, I’m sure I was crying, though I was trying not to show it.

A smiling nurse brought my son to me. He was bundled in a blue wrap like a baby burrito.

I looked down at him and felt myself tearing up. “Hello,” I said.

He seemed to be looking back at me, though I’m not sure if he could see anything so soon. I held him up to show my wife, but she was out of it.

I was escorted out of the room while my wife was sewn back up and our baby was brought to the nursery. I would wait an hour before seeing him or my wife again.

My wife, her mother and I were waiting in the recovery room when a nurse peeked in and said that our son was ready to come into the room. I grabbed the camera and caught one of the most beautiful pictures I’ve ever taken. The first moment that my wife saw her child.

She melted, cried and smiled all at once, while making one of those “oh so cute” sounds she normally reserved for baby sneakers.

Though I’ve tried, a description can’t describe the joy in her expression with any justice. I would post the photo here, but she’d probably not approve (as she looked like she just had a kid or something), so you’ll have to take my word, it was a beautiful moment.

The first of many beautiful moments in our baby story.

Here’s a couple of photos from E’s first night in the hospital and one from when we got home.

I’d love to hear about your birth stories in the comments downstairs. Thank you to everyone who has shared your stories so far. I appreciate you joining me on this look back.

As always, thanks for reading.

Click below to continue reading Our Baby Story.

Our baby story – part four: uh oh, my water broke

David — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 07:08:35 +0000

(This is part four in a five part series detailing the birth of our son. You might want to start with part one.)

(Author’s note: I wrote most of these words in the hospital room as I waited for my son to be born. This is the first time I’ve looked at them since.)

Tuesday April 17 12:26 am

So, this is it, I’m about to be a dad.
I got the call around 9:30 p.m. I was at work at the paper – a long day and deadline night – my wife said, “Um, I think my water broke.”

What?! Now?!

It’s the moment I’ve been training for in my head since I learned I was going to be a dad – the rushed drive to the hospital. I’d even done several real world practice runs at a slightly elevated speed. I usually made pretty good time, but now, the real thing!

I raced home from work, thinking the whole time, I would get pulled over by a cop. You always see that scene in the movies and you wonder if you’ll get a cop who is cool with your situation and says, “Hey, man, let me escort you,” before leading you on a 90 miles per hour race. With my luck, I’d get one who didn’t think the last editorial cartoon I drew of the Sheriff was all that funny. Fortunately, I made it home in record time without running into any traffic, deputies or other obstacles.

I pulled up to my house, jumped out of the car, and raced to the front door expecting to see my wife stretching anxiously like a runner waiting for the starter’s pistol.

Instead, she was on the phone!

She was talking to one of many people she’d called, and was about to take a shower.

“A shower?!” I ask. “What?!”

“Yeah, there’s no hurry, it’s just my water breaking,” she said like a seasoned pro, though this is our first child. Besides, it could be her last shower for a while and she wanted to be somewhat fresh.

Then, as soon as she hung up our house phone, her cell phone rang. While on the cell, the house phone rang. “Grand central station,” she answered.

Yeah, no kidding.

Apparently, it’s important for a woman to immediately alert every female within 10,000 miles that the baby is on the way! We should’ve gotten a modified Bat Signal installed on our roof to save time. Or maybe a ton of those spotlights used for grand openings.

While my wife is sharing this moment with everyone she’s ever known, I looked at my own cell phone, and couldn’t really think of more than two people to call.

I waited until we got to the hospital. Then I called my dad.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked before telling him that we were at the hospital awaiting the Big Moment.

“Ok,” he said, as if I’d just told him that it was dark outside. “So, are you nervous?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said in a casualness which matched his, though only moments earlier, I was racing down the road like a madman on a prison break.

No squeals of joy and excitement, just matter of fact conversation. You know, how guys talk.

Then I hung up as my wife was being checked by a nurse. We had a long night ahead of us… a very long night. Because, even though my wife’s water broke, my son was in no hurry to leave his comfy little home of the past nine months.

Our baby story concludes tomorrow. Please feel free to share your own Trip to the Hospital story downstairs (to borrow Writer Dad’s term for the comments’ section).

Click below to continue reading Our Baby Story.

Our baby story – part three: Everything changes

David — Mon, 27 Oct 2008 05:14:16 +0000

(This is part four in a five part series detailing the birth of our son. You might want to start with part one.)

It’s a huge blow to the ego the day you discover that you’re no longer number one in your wife’s eyes.

I knew there would be changes when our first child was born. There had to be. You don’t have a baby and expect everything to remain the same. What surprised me is how quickly things changed after my wife found out she was pregnant.

The day I got married was a magical day. I looked into my wife’s eyes and knew that she was my number one and I was hers. It was one of few certainties I knew. There was only us and nothing else mattered. It was the type of romantic thing I don’t normally admit to thinking. Even though I sometimes took being number one for granted, I never thought I would lose that spot.

And then I did.

I realized sometime after my wife learned of her pregnancy that I had slipped to number two. Our as yet unborn baby had become number one. I even asked her about it once when we were joking around. She admitted that yes, “he’s my baby” as she put a hand on her stomach. She said that our baby would also be my number one. I denied it, saying that she was and will always be my number one. She laughed, saying I would change my mind once my son is born. At the moment, he was still more of a concept than a reality to me.

I understand how my wife felt, it’s human nature. But it was still a significant shift in reality which I had not expected.

This was only one of several changes which took place in the months leading up to the birth of our baby.

Women and men see the blessing of parenthood through different eyes. And forgive me for talking in generic terms, I understand that there are exceptions to every rule. Take, for example, this British “man” who likes to iron. But for the most part, the way men and women view impending parenthood is as different as night and day.

Men ask:

How is this going to change my life?
What will this take away?
What freedoms will I be losing?
Does this mean I’m going to miss The Super Bowl? That kid BETTER not be born on Super Bowl Sunday!

Women see pregnancy as a blessing which they’ve been preparing for since they themselves were infants holding baby dolls.

Women ask:

How much GREATER will this make my life?
Will I get everything I put on the baby registry?
I wonder if we can sell the TV for a larger crib?
It’s not like he ever watches anything GOOD on the TV. It’s just sports, sports, sports.

My wife was pregnant less than two days before she was eying “cute” baby-related items in stores, catalogs and on the web. I’m not sure, but I think a big part of why women want children is so they can buy baby accessories.

BloggerDad Lesson # 17: Women LOVE buying accessories!

We were in a shoe store where my wife found a pair of baby sneakers which she held up while making this “aaaaaaawwwwww” sound as if she‘d just found a baby Gremlin. “These are soooooo cute,” she said. I’m pretty sure she was on the verge of tears.

This was only the beginning of months of such discoveries of “cute” things as we both stared into the future and wondered what was to come. We talked, planned and dreamed. And you know what? I didn’t mind being relegated to number two. Because despite my earlier protests, I would soon have a new number one.

So, how did your life change during the months leading up to the birth of your first child?

Come back tomorrow for the conclusion to our baby story.

(Author’s note: This post was modified to change the number of story parts from four to five)

Click below to continue reading Our Baby Story.