Daddy's Girls

Something happens to a man when he becomes the father of a little girl. While he still maintains the manly gene responsible for finding fishing, golf, and baseball interesting, a soft spot develops in his heart, pushing the baseball cards and golf clubs aside, and making room for all things pink and frilly. 

My dad has never been the typical dad. I mean this in a good way. He was always there, ever present, wholly involved. His odd work hours which began his day at 3:00 a.m. allowed him to also be a room "mom", drive on field trips, serve as PTA president, and drive the carpool to dance and cheerleading practice. Often, he was the only dad there, comfortably chatting among the moms and passing out Gatorade and orange slices during breaks. He knows how to fix a tap shoe, how to turn a tutu into a bustle, and can fix a mean side ponytail. He hates, yet embraces, that glitter is a part of life. And, when challenged by my sister and me, he can do a headstand (well.... sort of...).

Always the "funny" dad, he made up songs about everything, gave all my friends silly nicknames, and kept my slumber parties lively. One of his silly songs still gets stuck in my head for days:

A fish is an animal that lives in the sea. It eats peanut butter and drinks iced tea.

He can quote many a "chick flick" and is only now, with both daughters grown and married, starting to get his fill of movies with car chases and explosions. He is the father of two very girly girls who after attempting soccer and basketball, settled on dance and cheerleading. His life has been full of assembling Barbie's dream house and reattaching Ken's leg and he stopped hunting the day I asked him why he wanted to kill Bambi. He's the daddy of daughters.

Father Daughter dance at my wedding

While I am very much my mother's daughter, so much of me is him. My love of writing and great Southern literature is from him as is my tendency to procrastinate (having watched him, on multiple occasions, write a speech en route to giving it). As a child, he took me on bicycle adventures and, after many painful sessions, taught me how to drive. He taught me how to change my oil, to change a tire, and how to cook. And even as I now have a daughter of my own, I am still a daddy's girl.

When I found out I was pregnant with baby C, part of me imagined how excited he might be if I gave him a grandson. Someone who would appreciate his signed Mickey Mantle ball instead of rolling it up and down the hallway like my sister and I did, diminishing its value with each toss. Someone to share his baseball cards with. Someone who would think bugs were cool instead of shrieking at their presence. 

But, when I told him we were having a little girl, he was thrilled. Thrilled to get to experience the Barbies and dance recitals and tea parties all over again. Thrilled to have a little tiny person with a giant bow shrieking to be picked up and tossed in the pool. Thrilled to now have a Poppa's girl. 

Poppa's girl

Having a daughter changes a man.

I see these changes in Husband as he snuggles his baby girl and sings Disney songs in the car. The youngest of four boys, his childhood memories mostly involve broken bones and dirt bike adventures. He spent summer nights digging for night crawlers while I spent mine catching lightning bugs. His Friday night movie selection was never The Little Mermaid. 

But, with two sweet nieces and now a little girl of his own, he gets it. He's changed a little to allow room for all of the pink and make-believe. He still loves an afternoon spent watching the Braves, but now, he does it with a tiny person in his lap, explaining to her as she listens intently how each play is impacting his fantasy team. He has mastered dressing her in little lace dresses with slips and teeny tiny buttons and he understands the importance of a properly placed flower headband. But there is oh so much more to come.

And I simply can't wait to watch him from my ringside seat over the years. 

Daddy's girl (perfectly placed
beneath the antlers on Daddy's t-shirt).

Happy Father's Day to my wonderful dad and Happy first Father's Day to my sweet Husband. We certainly are lucky girls to have such wonderful men in our lives.

A Few Minutes for Mommy

The sun slowly melted into the deep blue lake as I mounted the wave runner and took off on a much needed solo ride. The lake was calm after a short summer rain chased the day's usual traffic back to their docks. I made my way to an empty slue and let the engine idle, taking in the uninterrupted sounds of nature only minutes away from civilization. The scenery resembled a work of art, perfectly reflected in the water's surface, smooth as glass, and I breathed in the warm, humid air that follows a hot summer shower. I was alone, at peace, and recharged.

As I headed back to the house, the wind ripped through my hair, eyes squinted at the sunset. I docked the wave runner, unzipped my life jacket, and went inside to reclaim my role. Twenty minutes of "me" time had passed and I felt rejuvenated as I prepared my daughter's bottle and kissed her warm, pink cheek. Mommy's back.

It is amazing how guilt so easily accompanies motherhood. I spend my days and nights wholly enveloped in this mesmerizing little girl and honestly love every minute of it. But, while every moment of every day now revolves around taking care of another person, so easily I forget to take a moment to take care of myself. In only 20 minutes, I was able to recharge and all was right again; but the guilt associated with wanting to still be a person is palpable. 

I hate that in wanting to grab dinner and drinks with a friend and actually use both hands to eat, I feel a sense of abandonment. My daughter is almost four months old and I can count the times I have left her alone with my sister or Husband on one hand and have yet to hire a babysitter for a much needed date night. 


Don't get me wrong. I love love love being able to stay home with C full time and am so thankful every day that I can; but in order to be the best mom I can be, I can't let go of the person I am. I want my daughter to benefit from having a well rounded mother who has friends and activities outside of the home. I want her to grasp the importance of relationships. I owe it to her and to myself to be a whole person and to have a little "me" time every now and then. I know this. But, will the guilt ever subside? 

My gut tells me it won't.

A Little Something Extra

Yesterday, C turned 15 weeks old. For those who don't have children, she's 3 1/2 months old. Apparently, once you give birth, you then measure the child's entire first year in weeks. It seems odd, but each week is so very different. The things she is doing in her third week of month 3 are so different than the first week. I know it's silly. I'm a recent convert. (Prepare to be annoyed when I measure the second year in months).

But C was born 4 1/2 weeks early. Often I forget this little tid bit as I read all of the mommy blogs and books and emails out there that are telling me what my child should or shouldn't be doing by now. I was reminded of this factor while doing some light reading last night: Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. The issue of sleep has been upon us recently as I have contracted my second bacterial infection in a one month span and often go entire days without remembering to drink water in between my coffee(s). I'm a little sleep deprived to say the least.

Operation Goodbye Hemangioma continues to go smoothly, but this also means that I continue to administer medication exactly every eight hours. The third dose of the day falls at 11:30 pm and the interruption in C's sleep tends to effect the whole sleeping-through-the-night thing.

So I consulted the book in hopes of a brilliant answer. Instead, I learned that C just might not be ready to sleep through the night yet, and that no amount of rice cereal or sleep training will change her inherent need to wake up at 4:30 am for a little mommy time.

It then occurred to me. I get an extra month.

Yes, I have to suffer through an extra month (at least) of middle of the night feedings and sleep deprivation; but I get to have an extra month (at least) of middle of the night feedings. Those sweet groggy moments of feeding and snuggles that will be gone all too quickly. I get a little extra time.

It is difficult to see my happy, healthy child as a preemie. She is stubborn and determined to her core and it is easy to forget that this strong willed little girl was once only 5 pounds. Today, she struggles to sit up, crying if I place her flat on her back for even a moment. She lifts her head with assurance and smiles a huge gummy grin when she succeeds. She is so very big in my eyes, yet still so very small. And as she grows and develops each day, I take pride in how far she has come, throw the rule books out the window, and relish the little something extra I get as the mommy of a preemie.

Mommy Brain

Last night, after I rejoiced over a poopy diaper, Husband informed me I officially suffered from "Mommy Brain" in which I was incapable of talking about anything but "mom stuff." 

He is so right. I have lost touch with the real world.

I am totally okay with this.

Welcome to my world. It's so much cuter here:

Size Matters

14 weeks

It's all about size lately. How big is she now? How much is she eating? How much medicine is she taking? How long is she sleeping? How....how....how...?

How big? Too big! I blink my eyes and she gains an ounce, grows 1/4 of an inch. She has grown out of newborn diapers and I have packed away a box full of newborn onesies and footed pajamas.

How much is she eating? Enough to keep me in my day job of cleaning and making bottles. 

How much medicine? Enough to make a difference on day 22 of OGH:

Day 1 - Day 22
Side note: is there anything sweeter than a sleeping baby?

How long is she sleeping? Long enough for me to finish one load of laundry, start a load of dishes, attempt to make the house not look like a small explosion just went off, and grab just enough sleep to allow me to hazily function the next day.

As I rocked my nearly 12 pound (12 pounds!) baby to sleep tonight, struggling to still cradle her like a newborn, my arm tingling beneath her weight, I was painfully aware of her size and how rapidly it is increasing. I sleep for 4 hours and wake up to find a beautiful little morning person, more expressive than the day before. I blink and my three month old is teething. I turn around and she is nearly holding her head up on her own.  Where is the time going?

Along with all the other unsolicited advice you receive from complete strangers as a new mom, is the warning that they grow up much too fast. Well, random lady in the Target checkout line, you were right. I look at my sweet little three month old and realize that she is already one quarter of a year old! She has been in this world for 14 weeks in which she has learned to make playful noises, to smile, to follow the sound of my voice. She can push her tiny body up on her tiny little arms when on her tummy, and can grab toys and purposefully put them in her mouth. 

Each day she evolves more and more into the person she is supposed to be. At 14 weeks old, I can already tell she is stubborn like her Mommy, but easygoing like Daddy. She is dramatic (her god-given right as the first born) and has us wrapped around her little finger. She likes bright lights and mirrors and kisses on her chubby little cheeks. She's ticklish. Mommy's bedtime stories put her to sleep while Daddy's make her ready to play. We've already learned so much about this precious little girl yet still have so very much to discover. 

It's difficult to believe that 14 weeks have passed by already and that our once 5 pounds, 2 ounces daughter is now nearly twelve pounds and that the same little girl who was once swallowed by preemie clothes is now wearing size 3 months. While our daughter grows and changes each day, so does our world, living as if we ceased to exist before her and never looking back. We have grown from a family of two to one of three and that size matters most of all.

Happy Girl

Operation Goodbye Hemangioma: Day 15

13 weeks old today and already stealing the show. This morning, we made another trip to Children's to see Dr. Theos and evaluate how well the propranalol is working. My little show stopper was all smiles in the waiting room, in the second waiting room, and while waiting in the exam room (there is A LOT of waiting involved in these visits). In the past few weeks, C has become so expressive and something about all the bright lights at the doctor's office just makes her day (and mine)!

Waiting happily for Dr. Theos

In just 15 days of treatment, her hemangioma has changed drastically. The entire area has become soft to the touch and much less raised. The red area has become slightly gray, which Dr. Theos said is a very good sign of the medication working. I'm simply amazed that in only 15 days, we have seen such a difference and I have to brag, once again, on the staff there. Without looking at her chart, the nurse knows her name and my previous concerns from each blood pressure check. She knows that a paci is the only thing that makes C still enough for the blood pressure check and that she is happiest flat on her back on the table (so she can stare at the fluorescent light). While it's not ideal that we have to be there in the first place, I couldn't be happier with our experience.

Day 1 - Day 15

Although her blood pressure checked out much higher today, we were still advised to stick with the 0.4 mL dosage instead of increasing at all. It seems to be working well and C has adjusted to the thrice daily doses. We will return in one month to reevaluate. I'm not sure what we'll do with all our free time until then! But, after over an hour of entertaining the staff and other patients with her squealing, kicking, and general cuteness, we headed home for some much needed napping. Nap time. It's a good thing.

Spoiled Rotten

3 months old

Yesterday, our baby girl turned 3 months old! I have a feeling I will type this exact same thing each month, but I can't believe she's 3 months old already!

The past three months have been exhausting, exhilarating, and life changing and I wouldn't have it any other way. It's difficult to remember our lives without C. To remember life before 3:00 a.m. feedings and pacis and laundry loads full of delicate pink things. Before weekend trips involved carseats and bottle pit stops and a CD of womb sounds. Before my ears adjusted to hear the tiniest change in breathing or to identify different cries. Life before C is a distant memory and not nearly as much fun. And in this new life, there are new things to consider.

Husband and I have talked a lot lately about the people with which we surround ourselves and how they automatically become a part of her life. This weekend reminded us of what simply good people we have chosen to call our friends (and vice versa). 

C is the first baby in our group of Birmingham friends, thus becoming somewhat of a community baby. She boasts more aunts and uncles than most babies (because, you know they all talk) and I slightly fear she won't ever crawl or walk because she is constantly being held. She is loved. so. very. much. And for this, I am grateful.

This weekend, C ventured into the pool for the very first time. Our friends Ryan and Alex had everyone over on Saturday and even heated the pool to the temperature of bath water for our little girl. She was so excited to finally wear her cute bathing suit and cover up from her CiCi and her sun hat from her Mim (because the outfit is just as important as the activity) and she loved the water! She spent the afternoon being passed between Aunt Ryan, Aunt Heather, and Aunt Jenn. She even had a little cuddle time with Uncle Alex. 

Just one of the girls

After a fun filled day in the sun, the same crew headed to the wedding of a dear friend. Not only was C quiet throughout the entire ceremony, but she partied with the best of them all night long! She was mesmerized by the music and the lights at the reception and, once again, found herself being passed from one friend to the next. 

Uncle Warren and C at the reception

Dinnertime with Aunt Jenn

We so enjoyed spending the entire weekend with such wonderful friends and are grateful that C will grow up surrounded by such positive examples. She is one very lucky little girl. Happy 3 months, sweet Catherine!