the blue blanket

at loose ends

It's early days yet, but, at least so far, Cole is a remarkably easy baby. He cries and eats and sleeps. I hold him, feed him, change him, put him down, pick him up. Of course, I'm a little bleary-eyed and incoherent from lack of sleep, but (and remember, I'm not nursing or recovering from giving birth or taking care of other small children), since the falling temperatures and growing snowdrifts make it hard to imagine going much of anywhere, I find myself with a fair amount of time on my hands.

So, I've rearranged all my dishes, thrown out large numbers of old decorating magazines, organized the nursery and learned more than is strictly necessary about komodo dragons (did you know that they're capable of parthenogenesis? And that their drool contains at least 50 separate and distinct types of virulent bacteria?).

But mostly, I'm doing a lot of cooking -- waffles with raspberries, chocolate sauce and whipped cream, spinach quiche, lentil soup with kale, souffles (both chocolate and cheese), fondue (ditto), risotto. I've been lucky in that I've never worried about my weight, but I can see that, if I stay home much longer, that may not be the case.

I guess that three weeks out is too early to go back to work, but, honestly, the idea is awfully tempting. If you've spent any chunks of time at home, how did you manage? Did the lack of structure grate on you? What did you, you know, do?


edited to add: Which is not to say that I'm exactly well organized. So (and I know there are a bunch of you out there) if I owe you an email or phone call, please, please remind me.

hand-knit

I'm sure none of you are surprised to hear that I read a lot of dead baby blogs. And, over time, a certain percentage of those bloggers are lucky enough to end up with a live take-home baby. And, sooner or later, most of them say something to the effect that the new baby doesn't replace the missing one or the lessen the loss.

Which leads me to the following, not-entirely rhetorical, question: so, what does it mean if you feel something close to the opposite; if the magnitude and depth of your grief seem to dwindle when viewed through the lens of a brighter here and now?(thought inspired by Julia and Kalakly's recent posts.

eta: adorable striped hat provided by the inimitable Magpie

philtrum

Though one of my stepbrothers used to call it the snot funnel, that little indentation, groove, channel, rabbet, hollow, notch between nose and upper lip is technically known as the philtrum. And, as the old wives' tale goes, it's the mark left where an angel hushed the baby, reminding it not to tell all the secrets it knew before it was born.


eta: The beautiful, soft baby blanket that you can just see a tiny corner of in the picture was handmade by the extremely talented Shinny. Stop by her place and wish her daughter a happy first birthday!

formula one

really, i can stop any time i want to

Why is it that, as soon as I write that I'll be taking a break, I have this irresistible urge to post something?

(and, just by the way, if you feel like it, you can always check out my photostream on flickr)

edited to add: The beautiful blue cardigan was a much-appreciated gift from Slouching Mom. Thanks, SM!

milestone

About two years ago, when I first started this blog, I had no idea what I was getting into. Back then, I strung words together frantically, desperately, never exactly sure of what I was trying to to say or who I was really talking to. I wrote post after post, re-imagining myself, reconfiguring my story, my history, my future. And I still have dozens of posts in draft form that I never got around to finishing.

Which is a long way of saying that I'm going to be taking a break for a while. Maybe I'll be back. Maybe not. But I wanted you -- all of you -- to know that, my little black heart notwithstanding, your comments, emails, support and good thoughts have meant the world to me.

untitled

all the answers

• She's doing very well. She went home yesterday. After watching the baby sleep, Kyrie and Arianna's son, Caden, kept asking if he could have a little brother too. Arianna told him that that sounded like a wonderful idea.
  
  
• 3:46 am.
  
  
• It's almost as though, Sliding Doors-style, I've woken up in a parallel universe where everything worked out the way I wanted it to.
  
  
• Probably later today. With any luck, before the start of the predicted snowstorm.
  
  
• Cole. But, as you probably already figured out, that's only a pseudonym, so ixnay on the personalized, hand-embroidered spit-up towels.
  
  
• Nine pounds, two ounces. (4145 grams).
  

If you have any other questions, just leave them in the comments and I'll try to answer them.

And thank you all so much for your congratulations, thoughts and good wishes. They mean more to me than I can possibly say.

safe arrival

It was icy and snowing and the driving directions I printed out were almost indecipherable and the bridge was closed. By the time I finally made it to the hospital, the doctor was already telling Kyrie to push. And everything went perfectly and the baby's asleep and pretty soon I'll be asleep too.

slight change of plan

On my way to the hospital....

what's happening

As my anxiety levels go through the roof, my ability to think coherently is evaporating. I lay in bed last night, telling myself over and over again that, most likely, in a few days, there'd be a baby in the house. But it seemed impossible to believe that I hadn't just made the whole thing up.

So, here's the plan. Induction first thing Thursday morning.

due date (updated)

Still here, still in denial. My mother came to visit this weekend and we talked about pylons, nonpareils (a/k/a sprinkles, jimmies, hundreds and thousands) and Tostig, Earl of Northumbria. In other words, everything except, well, you know.

We have an appointment this afternoon. I'll let you know how it goes.

Update: Back from the appointment. Everything looks fine. It's just that I have to keep reminding myself to breathe.

new arrivals

Perseus is here! (Antigone even live-blogged the labor).

And Patti at Just One More welcomes Jack!

two zero zero nine

For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice
And to make an end is to make a beginning

--T.S. Eliot