35 and 36 Weeks

Arlo is 36 weeks and 2 days old, and I need to get caught up around here. A lot has happened these last two weeks.

 

 

First and foremost, like I've said, my mother-in-law had a bad stroke on Thanksgiving, which has changed our lives immensely. She's still paralyzed on the left, but she's more or less "with it" mentally, which is a miracle in itself. The day after Thanksgiving, Danny and I hugged each other in the parking lot of the hospital, bawling hysterically because we were terrified she was wasn't going to live.

 

She'll be in a rehabilitation facility for at least a few more weeks, and we don't know where we'll proceed from there yet. It all depends on how much she improves. I should mention that she's an only child, Danny's dad died years ago, and Danny's an only child—so we're all she has. This means we probably won't be trying to make a baby brother or sister for Arlo any time soon.

 

How about a picture to break up a giant wall of text?

 

This whole nightmare has reminded us how lucky we are to have so many wonderful friends in our lives. My mother-in-law's neighbors cooked us the turkey she had in her fridge so it wouldn't go to waste. A dozen people dropped off dinner for us or watched Arlo while Danny and I went to the hospital or to work. I keep catching myself wondering what kind of terrible shit Danny and I must've done in our past lives to deserve catastrophe after catastrophe after catastrophe in this life, but our friends are proof that we must've done something so, so right, too.

 

Anyway, we hired a nanny, and she'll be starting this Friday. Arlo hasn't seen his Grammy in two weeks, and his little world has already been disturbed so much that Danny and I couldn't bear the thought of sending him to daycare yet. The nanny obviously costs more than daycare would have, but we'll feel better knowing he's in his own house, with his own toys and dog, receiving the one-on-one attention that he's used to. Eventually, we'll probably transition him to daycare, but we wanted to avoid too much change for him at once.       

 

Now, let's let some photos do the talking. My 30th birthday was five days after my mother-in-law's stroke, and our hearts were still heavy (they still are), but we did our best to celebrate.



Oh, that's what a person looks like after crying non-stop and not sleeping for 5 days.



We kept Arlo up to celebrate. He's was tired.

Arlo tried to eat my presents.

 

Let's see... Arlo had his first mini-cold, as well as his first boo-boo—courtesy of Scooter (but it was actually Danny's fault).

 

I kept trying to hide the boo-boo in pictures, but in retrospect, I wish I had a better photo of it. His left eye was a little bruised and scratched. (You can see it better in the candle-blowing photo above.)

He's still sprouting teeth like it's his job, and I don't even know what's going on in his mouth right now. I do know that he's always chewing on something, and he's already destroyed his crib rails.

 

 

Speaking of the crib, Danny and I are feeling confident enough that the reflux is gone that we ditched the bouncy seat, and Arlo is finally sleeping in his crib now, instead of in his bouncy seat in his crib. He wasn't too thrilled the first couple of nights, which made me wonder if his reflux was acting up, but his sleep is improving, so I guess he just didn't know what to do with all that space at first. Unfortunately, he enjoys sleeping flat on his face, which is unsettling, to say the least.

 

He's getting tired of crawling, so he's been "walking" with his hands and feet on the floor (you know, with his butt up in the air), and I can't even handle how hilarious it is. He's also mastered doing this to things:

 

 

Loves his Roomba.

 

He's become a pro at using his thumb and forefinger to guide food into his mouth, and he really loves that he can feed himself his own snacks. Danny and I love it, too, because it keeps him occupied while we eat. Needless to say, Scooter loves it, too—for other reasons. 

 

Lastly, we visited Santa, and my little elf couldn't have been more cooperative (which really wasn't a huge surprise).

 

Oh, and here's my favorite recent photo of Arlo:



Can't even tell you how much that smile does for me.

26 Weeks

Arlo is 26 weeks old today—officially half a year! I found myself doing math problems last night—like "OMG, only one more of those, and he'll be one!" and "OMG, only 35 more of those, and he'll be 18!"—and I really started to blow my own mind. 

Lots to report this week. First, Arlo's still sleeping like a champ. If we keep him awake until 9, he'll sleep until 6:30 or so—but he seems to be a bigger fan of 8-5:30, which isn't ideal—but we're well aware that there are much worse scenarios. We've kept up the bouncy-seat-in-the-crib thing, and I hope his reflux is long gone before he outgrows his bouncy seat, but I'm not sure that's going to happen. Danny left the room while Arlo was playing the other day and came back to this scene:

I have no idea why there's a hanger in the middle of the floor. 

Needless to say, we started actually buckling him into it at night. 

Second, a bottom tooth worked its way through a couple of days ago, which was quite a shock to Danny and me since we didn't even know Arlo was teething. What a badass. There isn't enough tooth showing to get a picture yet, but it shouldn't be long. I don't know if he does it for relief or entertainment, but he can't keep his fingers or tongue away from that crazy new sharp thing in his mouth. I can't keep my finger off it, either. My baby has a tooth!

Third, I keep forgetting to mention that Arlo's been sitting up really well for a few weeks now. I don't like to let him chill this way on the floor yet because he still randomly decides to topple over once in a while (I won't talk about the time I let him bash his skull on the hardwood floor.)—so most nights, we practice sitting up in his crib, and apparently, I can't get enough photos of this. 

Cute man boobs. 

I can't even caption this.

This is the most hilarious outfit Grammy has ever sent him home in. When we later told her that it's a girl outfit, she said, "But it's blue!"

And here he is sitting up in the whale tub:

And with his best buddy:

Lastly, one of my favorite moments this week was when we were all at Carter's, and Arlo reached out and grabbed a toy off a shelf. His softy daddy couldn't help but buy it for him, and he kept saying, "That's the first toy he picked out himself!" I've never been much of a hoarder, and I always say that memories go in my head, not all over my house—but I can totally see how people end up saving boxes and boxes of things from their kids' childhoods. Lord knows my list of must-keeps is growing, and you can bet your ass that crazy orange toy will still be in my possession when Arlo has kids of his own.

A glimpse of the crazy orange toy. Also, that gorilla was the first thing Danny picked out when we found out there was a baby boy in my belly. (I think he's too big to keep forever, so that's one memory that'll have to stay in my head.)

23 Weeks

As of yesterday, Arlo is 23 weeks old, and I'm pleased to report that he's sleeping! He still can't quite make it through the night, but he's getting damn close. He's been waking up just once most nights—typically around 4. I'll take it.

I'm assuming he's sleeping because his higher dose of Zantac is really kicking in. He still shows signs of reflux—but not constantly like before. Having him in his bouncy seat in his pitch-black room is undoubtedly helping, too. We're getting closer and closer to discovering the perfect recipe.

We saw the GI specialist last week, and she seemed confident that he'll outgrow the reflux within a couple of months. In the meantime, she told us to start feeding him rice cereal, which we've been doing at dinnertime. This could also be contributing to the better nights. But who knows.

In the lobby, waiting to see the specialist.

She also told us that we need to feed him on demand, like you do newborns—that it wouldn't be fair to Arlo to attempt to put him on a feeding schedule. When he feels well enough to eat, he'll eat. If he can only handle an ounce at a time, we have to work with him. This is what we've been doing, so the reassurance was nice. Yes, most babies should be on a schedule now. Mine can't be because he's in pain.

Anyway, if the reflux is still around in 6 weeks, the specialist would like to have us back to schedule some testing.

I haven't felt this rested since before Arlo was born. I'm not saying I'm no longer sleep deprived—because I totally am—but I'm finally feeling ambitious enough to start exercising again. Thank God. I haven't lost the million pounds that I put on while I was pregnant, and my I-just-had-a-baby license is about to expire. We've been walking our butts off.

My walking buddy.

There's a little playground about two blocks from our house, and Danny and I finally took Arlo there the other day. Arlo's swinging session was probably the highlight of my week. This kid's turned me into such a sap that my eyes filled with tears as he swung back and forth a thousand times, just beaming as he experienced the sensation of the wind in his hair and took in all the new sights. His eyes darted from the sky to the trees to the ground—and always, back to our faces. I think he loves our smiles as much as we love his.

 

Weee!

We're a bunch of grinning fools, I tell ya. Life is so good.

22 Weeks

Arlo is 22 weeks old today, and we had one hell of a week. His reflux came back with a vengeance early in the week. He was absolutely miserable—crying hysterically, refusing feedings, spitting up literally 20 times a day, and sleeping terribly. We took him to the doctor on Thursday, and she upped his dose of Zantac again and referred us to a specialist. We go on Wednesday, and I really, really hope this doctor is able to find an answer for my poor baby.

The increased dosage seems to be helping, but I'm still seeing lots of signs of reflux. I can't wait until we don't have to give him medicine anymore. He can't stand the stuff. He's so smart that when he sees the syringe, he knows to lock his lips. This is what we have to put our boy through 3 times a day:

Yay! It's Daddy!

Daddy, you son of a--

Nope. Uh-uh.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?

Ugh. 

You said you loved me, Daddy! Hmph.

We started putting his bouncy seat in his crib at night, and he's definitely sleeping better this way. Last night, he slept from 8:30 to 5:45!

Chillin' like a villain (and actually sleeping!). 

He's loving his jumperoo more than ever, and he's perfectly content spending an hour in it, looking out the picture window and bouncing up a storm.

Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy.

He's blowing raspberries like a maniac now, which is adorable and messy. He's also become very interested in faces, and one of his new favorite pastimes is trying to gouge out our eyes and rip our noses off. He actually hurts us sometimes.

Ripping Daddy's nose off. Note Arlo's expression—he's clearly on a mission.

He does this to Scooter as well, often yanking out fistfuls of Scooter's hair in the process, and Scooter's such a gentle boy that he puts up with it without batting an eye. That dog drives me insane, but he's so good with his little buddy. Arlo loves him. For some reason, Arlo thinks it's really funny when Danny makes Scooter "speak." Once in a while, Scooter gets lazy with his "speaks," and he'll growl instead of bark, and Arlo finds his growls especially hilarious. I don't know how we're going to teach him that growling dogs are dangerous—because his certainly isn't.  

Buddies.

Arlo cracking up as Scooter growls.

20 Weeks

Arlo is 20 weeks old today, and this past week was full of firsts for him.

First, he finally rolled his fat little butt over on Thursday. I'd imagined that when he finally did this, there would be lots of grunting involved—but that wasn't the case at all. As soon as I put him on the floor for tummy time, he lifted his left arm up, and bam! Before I even realized what was happening, he was on his back. I think he only did it so he could get to his feet, which have become his best friends.

Just seconds after rolling over for the first time.

Next, he slept through the night last night! Holy crap. He's been sleeping better for the last couple weeks—"only" getting up twice most nights—and I think it must be due to the higher dosage of his reflux medication. This is proof that he was most likely miserable every night—so I feel like crap for letting him suffer for so long—but I'm thrilled he's apparently feeling better. I can't wait to see if last night was a freak thing, or if our boy really has turned over a new leaf. This could be life changing.

Lastly, Arlo went on his first road trip. We made the 10-hour round-trip trek to Michigan on Saturday to visit his cousins.

Ready for his trip!

15 minutes in.

A few hours in.

He was such a good boy. He slept most of the way there and back, and while we were there, he was the sweetest little man. He got to swing for the very first time, which was adorable. The swing was barely moving, but judging by his reaction, he was soaring.  He kept widening his eyes and saying, "Oh!" I could hardly stand the cuteness. 

Hardly moving.

Tire swing with Mama.

Tire swing with Daddy. (At least Arlo's looking at the camera. There's no tellin' what Danny's up to.)

He didn't bat an eye as he was passed from person to person—and we were there for 5 1/2 hours, and he remained content the whole time. I'm so proud to be his mommy.    

The ride home.

11 Weeks

Arlo is 11 weeks old today, which means this is my last week of maternity leave. Fortunately, Danny's work schedule is crazy, so he'll get to stay home with Arlo 2 or 3 days a week. The other days, Arlo will be with my mother-in-law. I'm obviously glad he'll be in good hands, but just thinking of being away from him for ten hours a day, 5 days a week makes me sick. I'll be missing out on fifty hours of his life every week. Heartbreaking. (Don't even think of rolling over for the first time at Grammy's house, kid.)

Running errands with Mama.

Arlo's reflux is under control, he smiles a million times a day, he's just starting to giggle while he's awake, and he's getting really, really fun. The enjoyable times outweigh the hectic ones (There, I said it. Newborns are stressful.)—so it freakin' sucks that I'm going back to work next week. Danny'll be home with Arlo my first day back, so it'll blow, but I guess it could be worse.

Lovin' his play mat, despite not being able to reach anything quite yet.

Do you see that dimple?? Ridiculous.

Clearly scheming. 

Yesterday was Father's Day, and I loved spending the day with my boys. Naturally, our lost babies—and the people who are still awaiting their miracles—were on my mind, but overall, it was a really happy day for us. It was a good reminder (like I really needed a reminder) of how lucky Arlo is to have a dad like Danny—who'd do anything in the world for him—especially in a day and age where so many people, myself included, grow up without a daddy.

True.

Also true.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go stare at my baby.

8 Weeks

Arlo turned eight weeks old yesterday. We're looking forward to his 2-month checkup tomorrow (minus the shots part). Last week, he was in the 32nd percentile for height, so we're hoping he's grown a bit—but we both know he's destined to be a shorty.

Rockin' the Shades / Sleeping at The Westside Market / Rod Stewart / Being Adored by Mommy

The reflux situation has definitely improved—but not as much as I was hoping. The happy moments are finally outweighing the screaming-nonstop moments, but we still have very bad days. Once upon a time, I was amazed by how Danny and I had adapted, with regards to sleep. I couldn't believe that I'd reached a point where I felt like a million bucks if I could get 4 solid hours. Well, it's caught up with us. We're exhausted. This is what all our friends with kids were talking about. I don't know how I'm going to function when I return to work.

We were able to get out and about quite a bit this week, though, and allow me to say that I love showing this guy off, crazy cowlicks and all. Love it, love it, love it.

Reflux Update

Last night, we started giving Arlo the prescription to treat his infant reflux, and this little collage basically sums up the majority of our day:

He's very obviously feeling better already. Danny and I keep saying, "We have our baby back!" He's sleeping more soundly, smiling more often, and just seems more comfortable. His temperament did a 180 overnight, which makes me wonder how many smiles we've missed out on these last couple of weeks. Would he have been giggling by now? He'd smile for us before, but not nearly as often as he has been today. Now, all we have to do to coax a smile is smile at him. There's no doubt that this kid loves his mommy and daddy. 

I'm not saying today's been perfect. He still has periods where he's clearly in pain, and now that I know what's going on, every whimper breaks my heart.

The nurse practitioner told us the prescription could take 4 days or so to really kick in, so I'm really pleased with this progress. We're almost there, Arlo!

7 Weeks

Arlo turned 7 weeks old yesterday, and I was all prepared to write a post about how, 24 hours a day, he's clingy, furious, sleeping horribly, inconsolable, apparently going through the craziest growth spurt ever, and ohmygodIcan'ttakethisanymore. But I was just too exhausted.

Instead, I'm writing a post today about how Arlo has infant reflux, and he's been screaming nonstop for 10 days—and just acting "off" for 2.5 weeks—because he's in pain. I feel so guilty for not catching this sooner, but I'm glad Danny and I reached our breaking point this morning and finally called the pediatrician.

When Arlo arched his back and wailed in the nurse practitioner's arms, she made her diagnosis. That's apparently a big sign of reflux, along with several other things Arlo's experiencing—gagging, screaming, not sleeping, spitting up all the time, and preferring to be in the upright position. We have to give him a prescription medication twice a day until his reflux goes away, which should happen around 6 months or so. My poor little boy. I'd like a redo on these last three weeks, please.

Also of note, the nurse practitioner commented that Arlo is "the perfect blend of mommy and daddy," which I loved.

Glorious bedhead / Officer Adorable / Cute smile / Perfection

Unfortunately and fortunately, I have some pretty horrendous carpal tunnel in my left wrist, and since my OB referred me to a physical therapist (an occupational therapist, to be more accurate), Danny gets to stay home with us for another week. Woo-hoo!

I've had minor pains in my wrist for a couple of years now, but since I had Arlo, it's become excruciating and much more frequent. My physical therapist gave me a giant list of things not to do. Basically, I'm supposed to wear a wrist brace all day and not move my left arm from the elbow down, except when I'm doing the list of recommended exercises. That would be fine and dandy if I didn't have a newborn to carry around. I don't see this condition improving anytime in the near future, but I'll keep doing (okay, start doing) my exercises and continue going to physical therapy.

Now, here's to brighter days ahead.