anna in med school

Yesterday Aurelia and I took not one but two fairly big trips into the city.  Just getting in the car with her feels like an achievement.  Ahh…to be one month old and absolutely HATE the carseat–depositing my sweet child into it elicits choke-sobs horrendous enough to cause pain to the coldest of hearts–but LOVE the car…at least for the first 10 minutes of a drive.  By the time we arrived at Doctoring yesterday afternoon and removed her from the carseat, she was an angel, melting into the arms of my classmates willing to hold her.  She made it an hour and 45 minutes before she started squawking for food, at which point we made a quick exit, she proceeded to down 4 oz of milk at breakneck speed, and then exercised her gastrocolic reflex like a pro.

After Doctoring, we went home, ate some more, then braved the night to celebrate Nathalie’s birthday, arriving a little later than was fashionable, but who can blame a one-month-old who likes to cuddle?  Below with the birthday girl and table six:

A couple discoveries of our travels:

• The white noise app on my phone is clutch!  Not sure how closely the sound of waves or rain on a roof sound like blood and fluids whooshing in utero, but they do the trick.
• I have lost my ability to keep focus in conversation, think or speak intelligently about anything other than my daughter.  Is this “mommy brain”?  If so, when does it go away, or how to I make it stop?
• My classmates are awesome!  I can’t think of a better crowd to trust to safely handle my daughter and be diligent about reapplying Purell without reminder or eye-roll.  I loved seeing my daughter so happily snuggle with band of future physicians.

It’s gone by in the blink of an eye.  I recently emailed a physician, with whom I was hoping to meet, back a week after she emailed me: “The last few weeks have been some of the best of my life but, unfortunately, I’ve been pretty behind on everything.  I apologize.”  To which she replied, “You should only be “caught up” with mom activities!!!!”  And then she suggested that I bring my daughter to the meeting.  I love kind people.

If I leave the house for 30 minutes a day, I really feel like I’ve accomplished something.  I know being a mom, and learning how to be a mom, is a big thing (if I offend anyone, please let me know)…I’m not sure what I envisioned…I just thought I would be able to do something else as well, just something relating to my field of study or passion…an hour a day?–an hour a week??  But I’ve been blessed with a cuddle monster of a child who is apparently going through a growth spurt and eating like crazy.  At present, I’m typing with my body at a 160-degree angle on the couch with my daughter breathing heavily and audibly sighing and squeaking on my chest.  I need to learn to be a more productive writer in this position…but I just keep getting distracted by the sound of her breathing, the transient puckering of her lips, the quiver of her eyelashes.

And then there’s this article regarding Yahoo! CEO Marissa Mayer’s decision to take a working three-week maternity leave.  I keep thinking about how much freedom I have to take the time with my daughter that I need, how much love and support we’ve received from every direction…and I still feel like I’m at my wits’ ends sometimes, perhaps even often.

To everyone: thank you.  Thank you for your help in providing me with the opportunity to love being a mother.  I hope I can pay it forward.

Aurelia was three weeks old this past Wednesday.  And it sleeted/snowed.  And I went for my first run in three months.  2.3 miles. Slow as dirt.  Felt just like freedom…except for the last quarter mile or so, which felt like my uterus might prolapse, so I switched my trot to a shuffle/walk.

Post-run, feeling/looking a little like a drowned rat, but happy to be rediscovering long lost muscle groups:

One kind of great thing about running in the frigid weather postpartum is that I’m still riding the wave of all those hormones warming me up without any of that pesky pedal edema that plagued me during pregnancy.

If she’s still rocking the faux-hawk (fohawk?), what do you think about Halloween costumes: David Beckham or mini-me circa 2007?

Election Day 1992 was the only time that I could remember my bedtime being up for debate.  I was really into that election…well, as much as any third-grader could be.  Ever since I saw Bill Clinton play the sax on Opera, I was hooked.  I even wrote a letter to the White House after he was elected because I was heart-broken when I lost my Clinton-Gore pin; come the following November, I received a Christmas card from the man himself (I still believe in Santa Claus and I still believe the President signs all his own Christmas cards–don’t kill the dream).

Anyway…my dad was all about me being allowed to stay up until the election was called.  My mom, probably rightly, thought this was a terrible thing to do for an eight-year-old.  So I sulked to bed a mere 30 minutes past my regular bedtime.  Hours later, I don’t remember the exact time but I do remember my dad sneaking into my room to give me the good news.

This year was similar in that I grudgingly met my self-imposed bedtime of 8:30pm (when John takes the little un for a few hours), making John promise to wake me when there was any news.  I, however, refused to rouse when John invited me to join him for President Obama’s acceptance speech, in favor of 10 more minutes of sleep.  My state of mind during the midnight feeding was dramatically improved as news of Wisconsin, Maine, Maryland, Minnesota, and Washington state rolled in.

This election was the first in which I actually voted at a polling center (I had previously voted absentee) and, of course, it was Aurelia’s first time at a polling center ever.  After John got home from work, we braved the weather and all walked over to the local elementary together.  I wanted to document the event (below) but, in the spirit of democracy and a supportive family dynamic, would also like to note that this is not to imply anything about Aurelia’s political leanings.  Three weeks old, and she’s already made it quite clear that she has a mind of her own.

Aurelia had a blast in her personalized scrubs, just like her Dad’s.  Thanks so much to her yaya aunts!  Apologies for her looking a little drunk and pixilated due to postprandial state and poor lighting.

Oh, you know, just helping mom with her paper…she’s way behind…and she thought maternity leave would help her catch up on all the stuff that took a backseat during clerkships…

When I would tell people that John and I had planned on passing the time of early labor by pumpkin carving, they would react in a way to convey that they thought I was completely insane.  Pregnant woman full of baby contacting every so many minutes–not a person you want to see wielding a knife.

But one great suggestion I read was to have projects to keep me distracted and at home for as much of early labor as possible.  Especially for first-timers, early labor can literally last for days (and still be perfectly normal), I believe on average 8-12 hours.  Contractions can last as little as 15-30 seconds in length and be 5-30 minutes apart (again, gross generalizations).  And then there’s the active labor part of stage one (before the actual pushing) that normally lasts 3-4 hours for first-time moms.  So, I thought, I’ll cook, I’ll bake, I’ll carve pumpkins with the hubby, I’ll finish packing for the hospital, I’ll take a bath, I’ll read Harry Potter, I’ll take a walk, likely taking a break during contractions once they become intense…anything to keep me from showing up at the PETU (Perinatal Evaluation and Treatment Unit, a.k.a. the pregnant woman’s ER and check-in place during labor) too early, only to be sent home, as what happens to over 90% of first-timers.

And then there was the early labor that never was–both supremely lucky and terrifying.  [I’m hoping to soon slap together my recollection of the birth day.]  Such items as bras and pants didn’t even make it into the go-bag so, needless to say, our three little pumpkins did not get carved.  We’re therefore hoping to enjoy this Halloween craft together when John gets home from work.  Me thinks it will be more difficult to carve between feedings than between contractions.

The lantern above took me, mmm, maybe six hours to complete?  This year’s model will be, must be much, much simpler.

Happy Halloween to you and yours!

For a brief time in college, I wanted to be a music therapist.  I don’t remember much (does anyone else feel like when you shove a ton of new information into your head, it kind of pushes a lot of the old stuff out?), but something about exposure to music early in life is supposed to boost one’s immune system and reduce cortisol levels.  Can anyone validate this?

So I’ve tried, when I’ve remembered, to be  a little intentional about music exposure during pregnancy…definitely not discriminating by any means, but also making sure to give way to musical cravings.  In the last several months, I’ve listened to an embarrassing amount of teenybopper, bubble gum pop and a decent dose of bluegrass but, especially at night, I’ve really wanted comfort.  During pregnancy, I was all about Rachmaninoff’s Vespers.  Since Aurelia’s birth, I’ve taken to playing Eric Whitacre when I’ve had to set her her down and–this is kind of bizarre–singing “With You” from Pippin when I’m changing her and she’s going ballistic (all this time John and I mocked mercilessly the concept of the “diaper wipe warmer” and the parents who purchase them…there might just be some method to their madness).

On that note, how cool is this?  Love everything about the Virtual Choir!

I cannot thank you enough for the phone calls, emails, letters, comments, facebook posts, general good wishes since Aurelia’s birth.  I sincerely apologize for the lack of response on my part.  I think you all get it…the last 11 days have been some of the best and most challenging of my life.  Aurelia has been lovely to us, not to jinx it–she eats, she poops, she sleeps, she cuddles like a pro–but I still feel a little like a shell of a person, operating in a sort of haze.  The outpouring of communication and support helps…a lot.  Thank you, a million times over, and I hope you never think the communication goes unnoticed.

Although it limits my ability to do most everything (I’m adapting slowly), the majority of moments are spent deliciously like this, and I’m reminding myself to soak it in (even at ungodly hours):

I don’t think there’s anything better in the world than the weight of infant on my chest, comforted by my heartbeat and warmth, reciprocating with her quick breaths and occasional grunts, hiccups, and squeaks.  I still can’t believe she’s ours.

We had our first real outing to a public location today–couldn’t have picked a better place than town hall coffee.  Christina joined us, just three girls out on the town for about an hour and a half.  Turns out Aurelia is immediately comforted by the sound of coffee grinders–just more evidence that she is definitely John’s daughter.