The Replacement Baby.

Some of you may think from my glowing emails full of praise and love for Helen, that we’re escaping any of the really hard work involved in raising a baby. You know, how she eats so well and sleeps through the night and exudes love and happiness to her parents and her daycare teachers and everyone she meets. And for the most part, you’re right. We’ve thanked our lucky stars over and over.

Then came last weekend.

There is a baby named Helen that I gave birth to last June, and nurtured and fed and clothed and kissed for over 10 months, and then there is a baby that replaced her on Saturday night around 11:15 pm. The Replacement Baby woke up screaming bloody murder. I think I woke up running up the stairs to her room. When I got her out of her crib, she clung to me, sobbing but quieted. I rocked her for a minute and tried to put her back down, but she got right back up, screaming. I thought to myself, “Who are you and what have you done with Helen?” Really, I’ve never seen her like this. I couldn’t get her to stay in the crib, so I held her until she fell asleep, whimpering. She proceeded to thrash around all night like a wild thing, and awoke at 5 am, hungry and cranky. Holding her was a necessity or the screaming started again. This continued through most of Sunday, with The Replacement Baby waking us overnight again.

So, still in zombie mode on Monday from the lack of sleep, I manage to string together a sentence or two when I got to work to see if anyone knew about this. It turns out that’s not The Replacement Baby – instead, Helen is really teething.

The first two teeth were a breeze. This time, we’re not getting off so lucky. There’s the runny nose, the sweating, the fussing and the sleepless nights. There’s the simply impossible task of changing a diaper or putting on her clothes. There’s a nap to be had, somewhere, somehow, but she’s not taking it. And food? “Mama, you’re taking too long to mix the cereal! Make it snappy, right after I finish this giant meltdown in my highchair.”

I’m happy to report that she was finally back to her usual self yesterday, having slept 10 hours solid Tuesday night (thank you lord!). And she charmed the socks off all the waiters at the Mexican restaurant last night. But the bad news is that the teeth have yet to actually break through the gums. You can see them, just hanging there.

I think I need to give her that big car bolt again. That should punch ‘em right through, don’t you think?

On Sunday, Brian & I head to Canada for a week. While I attend lots of sessions with my colleagues on how to put up with lawyers, Brian is going to figure out where they put the Biodome, and also how to say, “I don’t speak French, eh?” It should be a lot of fun.

Her Nana B. is going to watch her for the week, so if you’re in town, try to catch The Helen Show, and give her plenty of hugs and kisses. Nana B. might need it, too.

Easter stands for FUN.

For the Easter weekend, Helen had a lovely visit from her cousin M. From the moment they woke up and spotted each other, and got the biggest grins on their faces, I knew it was going to be a fun time for them. They spent two days playing together like the sweetest pair of children you’ve ever seen. M. gave Helen lots of hugs, and Helen shared her toys with him (mostly).

Saturday my sister & I took them to the zoo. M. says “woof woof” whenever he sees a dog, and everything he saw at the zoo was a “woof woof.” (Actually, it comes out more “woo woo” so maybe they’re all trains.)

Helen & M. also had little Easter baskets full of plastic eggs, and I got several pictures of Helen’s new party trick. She can put one of those eggs into her mouth, look up at her parents and grin. She’s clearly having a ball, and I can’t help but laugh. We’ve got the next class clown on our hands!

Two New Teeth Appear in One Weekend. Yes, TWO.

No drooling. No fever. No diaper rash. No crying. Just two teeth, plain as day. Helen is a trooper, indeed. And a keeper! This probably means we’re due for all the “fun” during the teenage years. “No, Helen, you may not borrow the car keys. Why? Well, if only you had cried while you were teething, you’d be wheeling around town tonight. But the scales have to balance some day, and I’m not taking any chances, missy. No keys, no way.”

We had guests D. & E. in town this weekend in town for a good visit, delicious Mexican food, and terrible basketball - the best our city has to offer! They got to witness the big tooth milestone, and on Saturday E. & I watched Helen let go of the ottoman and stand on her own. It lasted only a few seconds before she plopped down. She’s growing & changing every single day, and I can’t even blink for fear of missing any of it. That, and all the falling she does. It’s sort of uncontrolled, sometimes bopping her head on the floor or a piece of furniture. We can’t let that happen too often. We have to keep those SAT scores high, you know. Scholarships don’t just grow on trees!

The weekend before, Helen’s grandparents were in town for a good visit, too. They gave Helen a quilt that most of the family had helped to make – several squares of cross-stitching and quilting to finish it all off nicely. I’ve spread it out on the bed in Helen’s room and couldn’t be more pleased with how it turned out. It’s such a nice keepsake for her, and both Brian & I want to give a tremendous thank you to all of the family for the love and hard work (and arthritic hand cramping after that much sewing) that went into this beautiful project.

Helen has been chewing on a bolt from one of the kits for Brian’s Mustang restoration project. She absolutely loves that thing, and now we can legitimately say she cut her first teeth on car parts.

A Mother, a Daughter, and a Special Moment.

Helen is now very MOBILE and into EVERYTHING. Our house is now a matter of “what’s under 3 feet? Yep, she can grab it.” I need to build a mantel that runs around the entire room, so I can put everything she can’t have on it. The camera. The remote. My cell phone. Daddy’s wallet. Anything resembling a piece of paper, including receipts, kleenex, mail … hey, wait. You can DEFINITELY shred those bills for me, Helen. Thanks!

If nothing else, it’ll inspire me to keep my house clean.

(Oh, who’s kidding who here. That’ll never happen.)

Saturday Helen & I shared a girl’s rite of passage. It was a special moment, one that will live in my memory forever. And she seemed to respect the importance of the occasion. Yes, we went SHOE SHOPPING. Now this is where every guy reading this entry clicks on “close.” So for the girls still reading, she now has FOUR pairs of shoes that she can wear until she grows out of them, which should be next Monday. Two pairs of sneakers, one pair of traditional baby walking shoes, and a pair of dress shoes.

I’m so proud.

Helen Stands, Parents Afraid Walking Comes Next.

TINYTOWN, USA – Friday – Parents were overjoyed to see their daughter Helen stand up late Wednesday. “She wanted to see something on the ottoman, I guess,” said her mother, Jennie. “She grabbed the edge and got on her knees, and then just stood up. I couldn’t believe it.” Jennie says she got so excited, she said “Wow!” and made Helen smile and let go, and she promptly fell on her bottom.

Helen’s father was also excited to hear the news. “We had kept Helen home from daycare that day, since she was working on a case of pinkeye. We spent the afternoon playing, and Jennie came home early so I went upstairs to do some work. I heard about the excitement and couldn’t be prouder of my Sweet Pea.”

Later that evening, both parents were giving Helen a bath when she stood in the tub. The tot got a chance to play in her newly-lowered crib after her bath, and stood up in the crib, too.

Both parents are aware that Helen’s new ability to stand means their lives are about to change radically. “She’s growing up so fast, and it’s so much fun to see her enjoy new things,” her mother says. Her father is looking forward to her help with restoring a 60's vintage Ford Mustang which currently resides in the garage. “She’s already figured out how to work the jack, so bodywork isn’t that far off.”

Jennie noted that the camera is ready to go at a moment’s notice, but this new skill has yet to be captured on video. “She’s been trying to stand, but as soon as she sees that camera, she smiles and sits back down.” However, a mother’s persistence may pay off this weekend. “I’m going to follow her around with that camera all day!” she laughed.

Friends and family members rolled their eyes. “I think she does that already, judging from all the emails I get,” said one friend, who refused to be named.

Growth Chart

She turned eight months old this weekend.

Helen is learning to feed herself, but it’s a work in progress. Some it stays in her mouth, while most of it's on her chin, her fist, her hair, etc.

She love hanging with her Daddy. He carries her around on his shoulders and she hangs on to his hair.

While she was in the tub last week, she noticed herself in a “mirror.” So I asked Brian to bring up the camera. Despite her being in the tub, it’s safe for viewing at work.

One Rainy Weekend in January

I’m stepping away from the Ark Project for a moment to report on Helen Margaret Wyatt.

Current skills include:

1 – Grabbing anything within reach, including (but not limited to): toys, hair, small pets.

2 – “Army crawling” across the living room floor (dragging herself by her arms) to the small (but apparently quite tempting) lights on the Tivo.

3 – Endearing herself to the public at large. Smiling at anyone – in the grocery store, at restaurants and at daycare.

4 – Eating solid food in her new high chair, and learning how to put it everywhere except her mouth.

5 – Waking up at 12:30 am and speaking directly into the monitor. No crying, just lots of baby talk. At TWELVE-THIRTY IN THE MORNING.

She has not yet learned how to:
1 – grow teeth.
2 – eat peas.

I think we’ve got our priorities straight.

We've got a winner.

Recipe for good holiday picture:

A few days before Christmas, grab the last outfit at Toys’R’Us that fits your child.

Make sure she’s awake & well fed & in a good mood.

If she’s not in a good mood, add a favorite toy.

Hope everyone had a great Christmas!

The Santa Picture

How to Meet Santa for the First Time Ever:

1. Put on your best dress and wait patiently in line at the mall.
2. When it’s your turn, sit on his lap without crying.
3. Let him know you have the same name as his favorite aunt.
4. Notice his (real) beard and grab a handful of it.
5. Yank. Hard.
6. While Santa’s eyes are watering from the pain, let go and look around for mom. Your work here is done.

Santa will definitely remember you, take pity on your parents, and leave a few scraps of leftover wrapping paper under the tree for you to play with on Christmas morning.

I look forward to many more moments like this with Helen & Brian, and I’m sending you all best wishes for your holiday with your families & friends.

Happy Halloween

This is what happens when your mother has watched “A Christmas Story” far, far too many times.

I love this picture.

We were folding laundry on the bed when she passed out cold.

I'll let it slide this once.

Our Little Cheerleader

Helen’s first football weekend. The outfit barely fit – not sure her belly will go into it again.

And Helen, darling, I know the feeling.

Got your tickets?

Tickets, you ask? What for?

Why, the gun show, of course!

Back at Work

Today’s the first day back at work – it’s been one crazy summer! We’re all settled in the new house, and if you’ve gotten the birth announcement by now, you should have the new address & phone number, too. Please know you’re welcome for a visit anytime.

I’ll also bore you all with the current picture on my computer desktop, which I can check out whenever I get the urge to see my little sweet pea. Today, it’s only been about every minute or so.

A Birthday Story.

I was 35 weeks, 1 day along in my pregnancy on June 3. At my appointment that morning, my OB-GYN nonchalantly announced that I was 1 cm dilated, and I would deliver in a few weeks.

Shock and awe registered immediately. I couldn't deliver early. My husband and I were closing on a house in a week. After doing some work on the place, we were moving in at the end of the month. There wasn't any room at the apartment for baby stuff, so I had planned a shopping spree for after the move-in.

There wasn't supposed to be a baby until my due date. I was supposed to have MORE TIME.

I protested. She said I might go longer, but it was doubtful. I'd better get ready.

I made a frantic call to my husband in the parking lot. I could barely get the words out. I think I was crying. He very calmly said it'll be okay. But, MORE TIME. I need MORE TIME.

The next morning, my back hurt and I couldn't sleep, so I moved out to the living room around 4:30 am. I caught up on all my Tivo'd shows, and catnapped a little, and around 8:30 I was thinking about doing some packing when I felt a tremendous POW in my belly. Suddenly, something was leaking down there, and my stomach hurt. I raced to the bathroom, and sure enough, whatever was leaking was red. I freaked out. What was happening?

I got the doctor's card off the fridge, grabbed my hubby's cell phone, and on the way back to the bathroom, I threw both items at him (he was still asleep) and said in a very trembly voice, "Call the doctor, tell her I'm bleeding."

Turns out an on-call doctor was covering for the weekend. I told her there was a wave of pain and lots of fluid had leaked out. She asked a few questions, then said I better come in. I told her, "But I haven't pre-registered yet! Our birthing class is next weekend." She laughed and said, "I think they'll take you anyway."

It sounds ridiculous now, but it was my first baby. I had no idea that my water was breaking and I was having contractions. I really thought something was wrong.

My husband got up and put some clothes on. We headed for the car, grabbing the camera "just in case." What I kept thinking was, the baby needed MORE TIME.

We raced down the road, until we hit construction. Traffic was backed up for several miles. So we drove down the shoulder to get to the next exit, and flew down back streets. At the hospital, we got to park in that special spot for women in labor. What I kept thinking was, I haven't showered. I haven't packed. I need MORE TIME.

I gave my insurance card to the lady at the desk and she started pecking away at a computer. When she asked for my last name, I gave her my maiden name. I didn't realize my mistake until my husband said, "NICE." We both started laughing. Well, I thought it was funny, anyway.

A big contraction hit, and paperwork time was suddenly over. I was wheeled into triage. A nurse gave me a gown and told me to put it on. But I was leaking again, making a mess everywhere and I worried what my husband thought. Was he grossed out yet? He wasn't prepared for any of this. Hell, neither was I. I warned him it may get ugly. He said he was there for the long haul. Except, right now, he needed to move the car.

The nurse came in, checked me and said I was at 4 cm. We were having a baby. I grabbed my husband's shirt front and pulled him close to me and said, "MAKE SURE I GET MY EPIDURAL." The nurse laughed. I don't know what was so funny. It was really starting to hurt a lot.

My husband moved the car. I got to the room, settled in, and just as my husband came back, the on-call doctor walked in. I had never met her before. She was a lovely woman, very friendly and very bright-eyed for having just delivered another baby overnight. She checked me and discovered I was at 6 cm. I got a little panicky. I really wanted that epidural. The contractions were spiking and coming a lot quicker. I was writhing and moaning because it hurt so much. No position was comfortable. I was thinking, not so fast. Not so fast. This was all going too fast.

I got my epidural from another doctor named Fred. No one called him Doctor. He was Fred. Everyone in the room loved Fred. When he walked in, it was like "Norm!" on Cheers. I didn't care, as long as he had my shot. Fred managed to jab me in between contractions, and I didn't feel anything after that. Really. It was like half a contraction, and then NOTHING. I had a new best friend, and his name was Fred. Could we name our baby after Fred? Fred was a delight to mothers everywhere. Fred was THE MAN.

We called our parents and our siblings. Everyone promised to get in the car and show up as soon as possible.

My husband showered. He came out fresh & clean. I was so jealous. No shower for me.

We had a short discussion with the doctor about giving birth this early. She gave us a list of things they would look at in a pre-term baby. Weight and breathing function were the big factors. They had a couple of people from the NICU ready to check her out and make sure she was okay. My husband stopped the doctor and told her whatever it is, we'll deal with it then, but let's not spend the next little while worrying about all of this. I knew there was a reason I married that man.

I progressed through the rest of labor quickly. I was so relaxed, I could have napped. There was a huge spike on the monitor, and I said, "You see that? I can't feel that." I loved my epidural. I loved Fred. I loved everyone.

At 10 cm, it was time to push. My husband grabbed one knee, and the delivery nurse grabbed another. I didn't know how to push. I just held my breath to a count of ten. I really couldn't feel anything with the epidural. I hoped I did it right. The nurse said after a few pushes that she could see Helen's hair. I could tell my husband was trying hard not to look.

I was surprised that most of that hour was spent with just my husband and a nurse. The doctor only showed up at the end. The baby came out a little off center - I think it was supposed to be nose down and she was more twisted to the side. It felt really strange when they pulled her out. Thank god for the epidural. Thank god for Fred.

They showed her to me as they carried her off to the warmer, and I thought, that little girl is way bigger than 5 pounds! My husband stood near her, taking a few pictures, and about 2 minutes later, the NICU nurses left. The delivery nurse, who was still fiddling with my monitor, leaned down and said, "They don't know what to do with a healthy baby."

My heart swelled. Healthy.

It was time.

A friend summed it up best in an announcement email:

Helen arrived on Saturday, June 4, 2005 at around 3:05 pm. At 6 pounds, 11 ounces and 19.5 inches she is quite a healthy girl. Mom and Dad are doing great.