A Week To Forget

So, while I haven't posted in a long, long time (my previously published post is from November 7th, 2022, exactly three and a half years ago today), I have always enjoyed having this blog as a repository of events in my life. With that in mind, I return to catalogue one of the most emotionally exhausting weeks in my life, purely for posterity reasons. Strap in, this is going to be a long one. (Spoiler: All's well that ends well.) 

Last Friday, May 1st, I was home from work a little early. Claire was still running her DnD game for Ada and three of her friends, so I retired briefly to the bedroom to rest and relax before dinner. 

As usually happens once DnD is done, Ada and her fellow party members hang out and play games together. When it's a bit wet or cold out, that means multiplayer video games. Oh, Reader. How I wish this Mayday had been wet and cold. But it wasn't. It was glorious. Beautiful, clear blue skies, temperature in the mid 20°C. Outdoor time. 

Once the house was quiet again, I came out and settled in to watch some YouTube. The open windows meant I could hear all the kids having a great time in our courtyard area, shouting, laughing, racing about the place like kids should. 

After about ten minutes of this, Connor arrived in the front door, declaring loudly that he needed the washroom. Finding it occupied, he came over to see what I was watching. 

"Having fun outside with friends?"

"Yeah. Ada's crying." 

Now, I just want to mention here that my daughter is rather sensitive to friends being "mean". I don't mean bullying or being excessively aggressive. She can get upset if friends aren't playing the game the way she wants to play it, or if her little brother is being...well, a little brother. 

So, you'll forgive me when I tell you I didn't sprint out to the courtyard on hearing this update from Connor, so casually mentioned. I calmly put on my shoes, walked down the steps in front of our unit, and headed for the courtyard. As soon as I rounded the corner, I knew this wasn't just Ada being upset. 

Our neighbour was carrying Ada in his arms down toward me, and Ada wasn't crying. 

She. 

Was. 

Screaming. 

We sat Ada down on the low garden wall, and immediately she was shouting not to move or touch her left leg. She had soil from the garden on her head, all around her left eye, all over her right hand and on her pants legs. I tried to lift the leg of her pants on her left leg, as that was the only area I couldn't immediately inspect, but the slightest touch seemed to cause her pain to spike. 

What had she done to herself? Surely this was the result of some daredevil acrobatic foolishness of youth? Our gardens have plenty of trees to climb. Our housing blocks are three stories high, and we regularly see maintenance people on the tiled roofs. Did she climb out a first floor window and take a fall from there? If one of her friends had presented me with either of these scenarios, I honestly would have believed them. 

At this point, Claire was out of the washroom, and, rather than taking the time to question her here in the garden, we decided to get Ada up into our unit where we could look after her better. Claire and I tried to support her to walk the few meters to the door, resulting in much screaming. Our wonderful neighbour stepped in and once again scooped her up, carrying her up the stairs and all the way to the couch. Ada still screamed, but at least this way was quicker. 

With her leg immobilized as best we could and a cold pack applied, Ada was calm enough to explain what had happened. 

While playing with the DnD crew and a few other friends in our co-op, Ada saw a neighbour's cat out enjoying the sun as well. Her friends were elsewhere in the co-op, and she wanted to tell them. She started to run up through the back garden, but only made it a few meters. She tripped while running on a smooth, flat path and, apparently, landed very badly. 

Now that she was back home, we could clean the soil she had carried with her. Road rash on her forehead, wrist and elbow, but it was her knee that got the worst of it. Any attempt to move it caused Ada to scream. We left her to rest on the couch, moved our cat Shade to a better spot when his attempt to comfort her by lying on her legs was met with unexpected resistance, and let her watch videos on the iPad. 

We did not think we needed to take her to the hospital right away. I mean, how bad could it have been? No trees or first floor windows were involved in the telling of this tale. She slipped and fell on a path. A concrete path, yes. A concrete path that had been installed in the back garden area less than six months ago because the previous path, concrete slabs along a mostly grass walkway, was deemed a tripping hazard, sure. But still, just a trip. 

An hour later, the pain was just getting worse, and Ada was unable to take any painkillers we had on hand.  We made the decision to bring her to BC Women & Children's Hospital, just to get a professional opinion. Claire would drive over while I stayed home with Connor. BC Women & Children's is extremely highly regarded for its quality of care and quality of staff, and we are honestly blessed to live so close to it. 

But, we had to get there first, and that meant getting Ada back down the stairs to street level and the car. There was much weeping and gnashing of teeth, as well as demands to be let go home, because she didn't "want to be a problem for the doctors and nurses" with just her sore knee. But once on the sidewalk, she calmed down. I helped her gingerly into the passenger seat, kissed her and reassured her she was not going to be a problem for anyone, and kissed Claire, wishing her patience and a quiet ER. Then I waved them off and went back to get Connor ready for bed. 

By the time I was struggling to stay awake any longer, we knew that Ada had fractured her tibia and was to see an orthopaedic specialist. They added the possibility of a "small ACL tear" to the injuries. By midnight, they had x-rays to confirm the fracture. The orthopaedic specialist informed us it is a very common fracture in kids, especially during the summer as kids get outside and get more and more active. 

A CT scan was ordered for the morning to further inform what would be needed, and so, Claire and Ada's quick trip to the ER turned into an overnight stay. Ada's leg was immobilized in a big splint and she was given a room for the night. She finally managed to take some painkillers, and that and a mixture of anxiety and stress got her to sleep for a few hours, at least. Claire did not. 

Having crossed off "Get a CT Scan" on Ada's list of Things to Do Before You're 30, mum and daughter were home, weary and sore, just before noon on Saturday. Ada was going to need surgery. The hospital would be in touch on Monday to schedule a visit to the orthopaedic clinic and lay out the battle plan. In the meantime, she would not be able to go to school for the coming week, as she should not put any pressure whatsoever on her leg. Recovery time would be about six weeks. 

Thankfully, I had booked that Saturday off work, as we had gotten tickets to see the Vancouver Pops Symphony Orchestra play music that evening. Instead, I spent the day letting Claire catch up on sleep and caring for Ada, helping her learn how to get around with the help of her shiny new crutches and making sure she was as comfortable as I could manage.

I had work on Tuesday, but with Connor at school, Claire was free to take Ada to the orthopaedic appointment, back at Women's & Children's. At least there were no surprises to be had on this trip, we joked. Which was why when Claire sent me a photo of Ada with a cast on her right arm, covering everything from her palm to just below her shoulder, all I could muster was a resigned sigh. After speaking with the orthopaedic surgeon, he closed with the standard classic "Do you have any other concerns?" Usually this is practically a rhetorical question at that stage of the conversation, but Claire mentioned that Ada had a bit of a sore arm. The surgeon took a look at it, asked her to do a few motions, and immediately sent her for an x-ray, confirming the fracture at her elbow. No surgery needed on this one, but her dominant hand and arm was now out of service for at least three weeks. It also significantly increased the difficulty of using crutches. 

But before all that, the plan for Ada's leg was laid out for us, and that would start the following morning.

Claire dropped Ada and myself outside Women & Children's a little before noon on Wednesday. Probably suffering from not a small amount of PTSD at the sight of the building at this point in the week, she pulled up in the drop-off area, got us a wheelchair, and disappeared again. We headed to General Procedures and were brought straight to her room. Ada was extremely nervous, but every single member of staff was so kind and patient and understanding, and she was never pressured to do anything. We had a visit from our lovely surgeon, who again reassured us that this was as close to routine as a surgery can be, and the wonderful anesthesiologist, who demonstrated how the IV patch that needed to go on her back of Ada's hand would work, as well as several nurses, each making us feel safe and heard. 

Ada got changed into her gown, and they wheeled her bed down the corridor and into the surgery. She was still very stressed, and the anesthesiologist explained all about the Magic Glove, gently massaging Ada's hand and arm, getting Ada to contribute details of how the glove looked and felt and moved, and suddenly, without feeling anything, the IV patch was in her hand. They administered the sleepy medicine to Ada, and I watched as her eyes closed and her body relaxed. A nurse invited me to give her a kiss, and that was the moment I broke and tears started to wet the neckline of my t-shirt. 

I was lead back to the room we had started in to collect our things. I could leave most things in a secure locker near the waiting room, and I was encouraged to take a walk outside and get a coffee or some food, which I did. The procedure, I was told, would take about two hours, with about an hour more for recovery before she would start to come around. 

Almost exactly two hours later I was reading a book in the waiting area, when Ada's orthopaedic surgeon came in and sat beside me and told me that the surgery was a complete success. He showed me how the fracture on the tibia had the ligament attached, which was pulling the bit of bone up and away from the tibia and interfering with movement of the knee. The surgery had gone in, cleaned up the wound, and installed two pins. He showed me some x-rays of the pins in her knee, which looked enormous, and like they were sticking way out into the gap behind the knee plate, but he assured me that the x-rays made them look a lot more alarming than they really are, and they only appeared to be sticking out far beyond the bone because I can't see the cartilage that they are actually embedded flush within. 

A short while later a nurse came in asking for Ada's family, this time to take me to see her. Ada was just coming around and I arrived to find a dazed and confused and high-as-a-kite kid feeling very confused about who was in the room with her, and asking why they all looked like potatoes. When I said "Hi Ada", she looked at me and said "You look like a potato too, dad!" and proceeded to call me Potato for the next several hours. They had given her an ice lolly to enjoy, and she choose blue, because "the white one was boring and the black one was too dark". At one point she asked if I wanted a lick, and when I said "No thanks, you enjoy it. You deserve it" she looked at me seriously, and thrust the lolly towards me saying "What if I want you to have some!!" Hospital grade painkillers are a wonder. 

Pretty soon we were both on the move again, this time, to our final destination. We met the new nurses that would look after Ada in recovery, and her surgeon stopped by two or three times that evening to check in on everything. We also got to meet her physio team that would help with moving about, and give tips on how to proceed now that the crutch was an issue due to our recent broken arm discovery. And we met the pain management team, who were there to ensure that Ada was comfortable, pain free with not too much meds, nor too little. Just the Goldilocks of medication dosage. 

I ordered food before the kitchen closed, and Claire and Connor arrived soon after with snacks. All the beeping from the various machines hooked up to Ada started to make Connor nervous, and he started asking if Ada was going to be okay, and how we can stop the machines from making noise. Claire took him home, Ada and I settled in for the evening. 

We were woken almost every two hours throughout the night with check-ins. "Can you feel this?" "Push your foot against my hand.""Do you have any pain?""Have you peed yet?" But Ada was a trooper, never complaining, always ready to do so she was asked and then drift back to sleep. 

We were both awake very early Thursday morning, so I went out to hunt for some food. I found a coffee place that had waffles and grilled cheese sandwiches, so that was how we started our day. Thursday saw the same teams checking in several times throughout the day, with everyone impressed by Ada's recovery. As the day went on, each of the teams signed off on Ada going home, until she was officially discharged just before 6pm. 

Ada still has about six weeks of recovery time ahead of her. Over that time, the amount she is allowed to move her leg will slowly increase, but, for now, it's stationary, with strict orders not to put any pressure on it. She's hoping around home, using her one good arm to steady herself against anything she can reach on he way to wherever she needs to be (mostly couch, bed or toilet). 

Connor is being a superstar little brother, carrying stuff for her, or racing to bring her what she wants, from stuffy toys to freshly filled bottles of water. 

And Claire and I? We continue to be amazed by our daughter, so strong and capable and smart. Nervous when facing the unknown, sure, but once it's known and understood, nothing will stop her. Not a broken arm. Or a broken leg. Or even, a broken arm and leg at the same time. 

Could you imagine?!? 

Summer Fun Into Autumn News

I knew I hadn't posted in a while, but looking now, I didn't think it had been as far back as April! In fact, I completely missed my annual 5th of November post, breaking a long, but pointless, streak!

I learned to scuba dive over the summer and absolutely love it! It's an incredible experience, and one I've always been interested in trying, but while my brother was here, we learned together. The training dives were a bit of a challenge, obviously, as you had to demonstrate so terrifying skills, like removing your facemask underwater and putting it back on again, but we got through it. Since then, we did two fun dives in September that were a lot of fun and we got so see some amazing things, like a jellyfish completely failing to sneak up on Stephen during the rest stop, or an octopus home that had its own flipping balcony! Posh or what?!?

Stephen left to return to Ireland at the start of October, and we were all sad to see him go. Ada didn't really understand he was going, and so wasn't upset, but still asks about him regularly. Just today as I was putting her down for a nap, she interupted the story I was reading to ask where he was.

But when he left, Ada got her own bedroom. I expected a transition period, but instead, on the very first night, she brought Bear in, went to bed and went right to sleep. Since then, in the last ten weeks or so, there have only been three nights that she's come into our room, and one was Halloween on account of the fireworks.

It's nice having our own bedroom back to just ourselves again, but it's not going to last. We're expecting another baby, codenamed Podling, in early December, and are pretty much prepared for his arrival. This time we do know the sex in advance, so Claire is delighted to have the complete set, one of each. I'm just excited to have another baby in the house, but I'm sure the first week of sleepless nights will beat that out of me.

I have much to post about, so expect a few in the coming days, if not hours.

 

Not My Baby

My little girl turns one today. In fact, if I've done it right, she turned one at exactly the moment this post went live, at 2:35pm, Pacific Standard Time, or 10:35pm Irish time. Here's a look at her first year.



Edit: I screwed up. I forgot to account for the difference between Canada being on Summer Time and Ireland not, so it should have gone live at 9:35 Irish time, and my blog ids still sete to that as it's home timezone. I must change that. 

It's Been One Year

It has been a long time since I posted anything, and for that I am deeply sorry. I've been very busy, but not to the point where I couldn't have put aside a few minutes now and then since November to post something! But lots has happened, so let's hit the main points.

In December, I left the job I've had and loved since arriving in Vancouver five years ago. I've been working in the daycare industry for all that time, with an incredible team, and an amazing bunch of kids. But in January, Claire got a kick-ass new job opportunity so we made the easy desicion that I'd stay home with Ada and she'd go back to work. The other option was for both of us to work, finding daycare for Ada, while I care for other people's kids.

I do miss work, but Ada and I go on fieldtrip sand visit some of the centres now and then, so that's been great fun and a nice way of staying in touch with great people.

But being a stay-at-home-dad is not easy. I thought being able to handle twelve infants would make handling one a breeze. I was wrong. At work, I have support if I'm tired, or having a hard time with a kid. Now, it's all on me. I have to prepare snacks and lunch, change all the diapers, and don't get toilet or lunch breaks. I have to fit what I can into her nap times, but that's over all too quickly some days.

And I wouldn't give it up for the world. I'm well aware that it's a rare luxury that I get to do this, and I have an unending amount of respect for parents who choose not to or, more often that not, simply can't due to a variety of reasons. I have an incredible wife, with an incredible brain and an amazing ability to continuously better herself, a talent I very much hope is genetic. It is only because of Claire that I get to do this, and I thank her every day for that.

I love spending all this time with my daughter. As well as fieldtrip said into Downtown, we regularly go to a local drop-in facility in the mornings to hang out with other parents and children. We've made loads of new friends through that and I know Ada loves going because as soon as the stroller stops outside the door, she starts shouting and laughing. Plus, it nicely wears her out so that she usually falls asleep on the way home and naps from noon until about one.

It's hard to believe that Ada turns one year old in less than 48 hours. This time last year, Claire and I wear enjoying our last weekend with just the two of us, waiting patiently for the hospital appointment on Monday, March 23rd, 2015, and the c-section surgery that would welcome our Spawnling into the world.

I have something special to share to mark that, but it'll be in another post, coming soon.

Post Script: The moment I opened the page to write this post, my media player threw up One Week, by BareNaked Ladies. It may have influenced the title.

Baby Tipping Part Three

Nighttime doesn't have to be difficult, but you will have to endure some rough patches. Claire and I spent the first few weeks handing off to each other at night. Claire would feed, and I'd look after diapering. It was still exhausting, but at least we could get decent naps at night.

For the most part, it worked well, but there was a run of five or six nights in a row when Ada was three or four weeks old where Ada would refuse to go to sleep, crying and complaining and fighting every attempt to get her to sleep, and then wake constantly through the night. We were exhausted, frustrated and stressed. But it passed, and we got through it together.

Just remember the old Persian adage, "This too shall pass". Let the hard times come, and constantly remind each other that it's just a phase, and it won't last. Be there for each other. And take video documentation of it to use as evidence and guilt trips for the next eighteen years, at least!

Ada actually got into a really nice routine for a few weeks where she was asleep by 10:30, and would sleep until 7am, waking once around 5am for a quick feed. But ever since we went home to Ireland in August, she's been causing Claire nothing but pain some nights, waking every other hour. I don't know if it's just that she needs to eat more, or that she's just a light sleeper, but Claire sometimes gets a very restless night, resulting in a tired mommy for the following day. When I can, I'll take Ada out of the room and let Claire get a few solid hours sleep, but during the week, I leave for work by 7:30 or 8am, so I do my best at the weekend.

Daytime naps can be tricky, with lots still going on around thhe sleeping beast. My advice would be, when they're young, let your little bundle sleep in the living room, with all the noise that that includes, and don't be quiet while they sleep. We had Ada in the living room constantly apart from at night during the first five or six months. She's slept through Pacific Rim at just a few weeks. She can, literally, sleep through an explosion in the same room! And that's wonderful for when friends call over. We've never had to say "SHHHHH!! The baby's asleep". It also helps when we're in town. Ada can sleep on noisy buses, at busy resturants, or walking through a crowded mall.

At a certain point, that needs to change though. Around six months, Ada was too intereested in everything around her to sleep for long in the living room. She would wake up and refuse to go back to sleep after only a short nap, so we moved her back to sleeping in the bedroom even during the day. We still don't enforce silence while she's sleeping, but we do close the door a little. She sleeps much better that way. We also leave a bedside light on, so she can play with her stuffie when she wakes up. Sometimes she'll just cry for us right away, but more than once we've found her babbling to her stuffie, content and happy to be by herself for a while.

Too cute.

In Their Own Time

By definition, half the population will fall below the average for anything you care of measure. When it comes to infants, they are just all over the place!

Ada turns eight months old today, Monday the 23rd. She still isn't crawling, though she does scoot around the room sometimes, moving backwards by pushing with her arms. One of her friends at Family Place on Saturday mornings is older than her by a single day, but has been crawling since she was a bit more than six and a half months!

Claire has sometimes asked if we should be worried about any of Ada's developments, or lack thereof. I constantly reassure her that the longer it takes Ada to crawl, the better. At least for now, we can put her down with her toys, go make a hot cup of tea and come back to find her in roughly the same place we left her.

On the other hand, Ada is able to hold her own weight, standing for a few minutes at a time, leaning on the back of the couch, or against our legs. She's been a fan of tummy time since the week we brought her home, and her arm and neck strength is fantastic! She's been able to roll over since she was four months old.

Her dexterity is pretty good too. She can turn her stuffed toys and blankets around until she finds the tag, or move objects from hand to hand if we're changing her clothes. When I put here down on her change mat, she learned a long time ago that there's a marker by her head, and with a bit of stretching she can get at it. At first, she was only able to touch it with her fingers, but after a few attempts, she gained the dexterity needed to lift it out with her index and middle fingers. Since then, putting her on the change mat usuaally results in an immediate stretch, grab and play with the marker.

One of the things that every baby does is reach out their arms to be picked up when you offer. Every baby, that is, except Ada. Any time I offered to pick her up, she'd smile, but not raise her arms. She understands the sign for up, and has even signed it quickly when I sign it to her[1] but still won't raise her arms to me. I work with babies who reach out to me as soon as I walk into the room, but my own daughter expects mee to do all the work for her.

Until this last few days. Ada has just started to put her arms up when she want to be picked up. Today, in particular, she definitely rreached up to me to be picked up, and my heart soared.

Every kid develops in their own time. Every new milestone or phase is unique to every child. So when you see someone else's baby doing something yours isn't doing yet, I can guarantee you that kids parent is seeing the same thing in yours.

[1] The sign for up is, as you could probably guess, pointing up with your index finger. We've been signing lots with Ada, and she understands a few now, especially up and milk, but when I do up, her index finger will sometimes flicck out and point briefly. It's cute to see, and interesting to watch her learning that she can sign back at us.

Mobile Girl

Claire and I are pretty tech connected people. We both use our desktop PC's, iPads and phones daily, and Ada is present for a lot of that interaction of man and machine.

So it comes as no surprise to learn that Ada has a fascination with mobile phones and iPads. She sees us on them all the time, and they glow with inviting colours. Claire let Ada chew on her bright red silicone phone cover when she started teething, and she still likes to play with that.

But few toys hold her attention when our phones are in sight. I sometimes let her play with my phone if she's by my side on a soft surface, but all too often, it ends up in her mouth at some point, and that's just not healthy, for baby or phone.

So, on my way home today, I stopped into my phone network's local store and asked about the dummy display phones they keep on the display shelves, and what happens to them once they're no longer needed. One of the staff immediately asked what model my own phone was, disappeared into the back room and returned with a dummy version of my phone.

He handed it to me and suggested I give it a good and thorough cleaning. I thanked him, and walked home, delighted, with an unusual gift for my darling girl.

Ada now has her own phone to chew on, play with and babble at, just like mummy and daddy does. Because it's the same model as my own phone, it looks and feels the same, and even weighs the same. It doesn't light up, but at the same time, the screen is always colourful to look at. It even shares a feature with my phone. My lock screen has a digital effect that looks like there's water between the glass layers of the screen. When you press and swipe, the bubble moves with your finger, and it looks really cool. When I washed Ada's phone, actual water got into the device[1], so now there's a bubble of water under the screen that moves when you press and swipe!

Ada loves her phone. Now if only I could find a dummy iPad as well...

[1] - Don't wash your phone by immersing it, kiddies! Also, probably don't use soap and water.

 

Sick Day

Everyone gets sick. Usually more than once. In fact, everyone gets sick more than once, unless the first time was catastrophic. But we grin and bear it, complain and mope about, recover and get on with our lives.

Over the weekend, Ada started acting strange. Not head-spinning-180º strange, but almost as disconcerting. Anone who has met Ada will agree that she's a people person, very chatty and bubbly, and loves getting your attention. She smiles, laughs, and has those beautiful big eyes to gaze upon you.

But this weekend she was lethargic and quiet. We went to friends place and instead of entertaining the new faces, she just snuggled into my neck and lay on my shoulder. Not in her usual babbling into my ear while stroking the nape of my neck way either, just resting her head on my shoulder, not really moving or doing anything much at all, zoning out, not even sucking her fingers.

We took her temperature, and sure enough, she had a mild, low grade fever. This is the first time she's gotten sick. Not bad given that she's almost eight months old and we take her out as often as we can.

I know kids get sick. I know they get better. But when it's your own, it's different. You worry. You watch. You wonder. You feel for them. They know something is wrong, but they haven't got the concept to understand what is happening.

She was sleeping a lot, and when she was awake, all she wanted was to be held by either myself or Claire. That's okay. All we wanted to do was cuddle her and reassure her we'd look after her.

And we did. Lots of feeding to make sure she was getting both her fluids, and all the health benefits of mummy's milk. Lots of warm cuddles, gentle rocking and soft singing.

She got better. Sunday evening she had a short feed and a nap and woke up alert and giggling. She still had a bit of a temperature, but it was coming down. She was still a little clingy, and feeding more than usual, including during the night, when she woke up probably every other hour for a quick feed.

It's an odd feeling when your own child gets sick. Even today, while I was at work, knowing full well that Claire was home with her and watching her all day, I still couldn't get my mind off of her. I doubt it ever gets easier.

Baby Tipping, Part Two

When it comes to feeding newborn babies, it's generally accepted now that breast milk is ideal. It's full of what baby needs, including lots of immunity boosts from mommy.

But, Breast is Best is well-meaning propganda at best, and hurtful lies at worst. Not every mother will be able to breastfeed, and it can feel like you're failing you child if it's not working out for you, especially with all the pressure from the "professionals". The truth is, as long as your baby is feeding, then how it feeds is kind of irrelevant.

And often, the breastfeeding will come with time. It took us almost a month before we could go a full day without supplimenting with formula feed at least once. But even if it doesn't, the only difference it will make is you'll have to spend money on formula. You'll still have a beautiful, well-fed baby either way.

Speaking of bottles, the best thing to happen to us is using a bottle with Ada very early on. It has the distinct advantage that she would then happily drink from a bottle if Claire wanted to go out with friends sometimes. It gave us a level of freedom that not many parents have, and in our opinion, it's a healthy freedom. Claire could go watch movies in the cinema, or practice archery, and come home to a happy, fed, bubbly baby.

Both parents need to be able to unwind now and then, and while it's easy for dad to get out, it's not so simple for mom. Even though Claire breastfeeds, before Ada started eating solids, she could express milk into a bottle when she knew she was going to be away.

Expressed milk can also allow mom to get a solid nights sleep while dad gets up to do the night feed every now and then. Happy, rested mom makes for a happy, rested baby, and a happy dad, rested or not.

Like Father, Like Daughter

Confession time: I sucked my thumb when I was a kid.

Nothing alarming about that. Lots of kids do.

I had a blankie that went everywhere with me, and held it in my hand when I was sucking my thumb, rubbing the corner on my upper lip.

A bit more odd, but still okay.

I stopped when I was around 12.

Yeah... That's unusual.

Ada hasn't gotten attached to any of her blankies yet, but recently, very recently, she's started falling asleep with her thumb in her mouth. It's very cute.

That's my daughter.

 

Bonding

It's Remembrance Day in Canada, so I have the day off. I thought I'd get to catch up on some posts, but I'm having a bit of writers block. I actually wrote the previous post yesterday, but wanted to wait until today to get some nice, bright, natural light photos of the Quantum board and components to include. That's my excuse for missing a day, and I'm going to stand by it.

Ada is asleep in her crib in the bedroom, and has been for a while now. I think it helped that I got up early and got her up too. I woke at 7am, which is my usual midweek wake-up time, but rolled over and napped a while longer before getting up and changing Ada and keeping her up. This is actually a great time for her to be asleep. As I write this, it's 11:45am, and in my experience, that's when the babies in daycare sleep too, so ideally, I'd like her to get into a similar routine.

Saturdays are when I get to spend the most time with Ada. We get up early in the morning, shower, diaper change, and a bit of breakfast before heading out the door. We meet up with a friend and his son on the corner and all head over to the local Family Place center together.

Family Place on a Saturday morning is specifically for fathers and their young kids. The center runs six days a week, but the week days are filled with mothers or caregivers. It's great to be able to have Ada around other children, and chat to the other dads. We haven't missed a week since it started up again in October, and look forward to going every week.

When Family Place wraps up at 11:30, Ada and I head home with a trip into the toy store on the way. By now, Ada is usually asleep, so we get home, and I leave her in her carseat, carry it up stairs, and plonk her down on the bed until she comes around.

The rest of the day is sometimes going shopping in downtown, sometimes playing at home, sometimes watching YouTube, and sometimes having friends over to hang out and chill.

Evening is dinner, relaxing, more playtime and giggles before bedtime.

I cherish my time with Ada at this age. I miss her and Claire a lot during the week at work, and while the evenings are great, they're also short, and I'm often wrecked tired. She's growing up so fast, more every day.

These moments are precious and fleeting. It's hard to think I might miss anything. But I'll try not too. It's the least I can do.

Addendum: This post was started on Wednesday morning, but didn't finish until Thursday night. Somee of the earlier times mentioned have no relation to when I actually posted it, despite high hopes at the time.

 

First

I first trained in basic first aid when I was, I dunno, 16, 17? Subsequently, I spent nine years as a lifeguard, continuing my training and increasing my knowledge of first aid, right up to holding an Occupational First Aid certificate for quite a while. I've held some form of first aid qualification continuosly for about twenty years now.

But in all that time, I never really made use of it. I mean, I patched up scratches and bruises, of course, and once, I had to help someone that scalded their arm with a steam burn, putting water directly onto hot coals. Nothing serious. I've never administered CPR, or had to use an AED in real life. I've never even had to help someone choking.

Until very, very recently.

We had already fed Ada her dinner, but I was eating mine a bit later than her. Usually, we all eat together, but it just didn't work out that evening. Ada eats while sitting in her own chair at the table, so that she gets used to sitting and eating a meaal toggether with us. However, she was finished her meal, so I just sat her on my lap while I was eating, giving her little bits of my meal to try.

Ada only recently started eating solid foods, and has tried a bunch of things, including rice, avocado, chicken, pork, egg, peas and carrots, among a lot of others. The one big dislike so far, in fact, the only dislike so far, is crabmeat from a California roll. Her whole body shudders and she spits it out every time.

I had given her a little chicken, and there was a soft chunk of, I think, pineapple. It was well cooked and very soft and squishy. I picked it up and popped it in her mouth. She chewed on it thoughtfully, and looked up at me. I watched her experience the flavours like only an infant can and went back to eating my own dinner.

Claire asked me something.

I turned away to answer her.

A wheeze. Ada was suddenly waving her arms. I looked down at her and she had a look of panic on her face. Her arms were flapping, and she was making a quiet coughing sound, tears were in her eyes and she was just staring at me.

I picked her up, turned her over, my right hand holding her chin, her body lying along my right arm, her bum higher than her head and gave one slap on the back. She immediately started crying loudly.

I flipped her back around and gave her a big hug. Claire took her and held her close, and within a minute she was calm and happy.

At no point did either of us panic. I don't think my heartrate even changed until after the fact. It certainly helped that I could hear Ada coughing, so I knew that it wasn't a total blockage. It helped that she as already in my arms, not strapped into her highchair. It helped that I knew axactly what was in her mouth moments before, how small and soft it was.

First Aid is an important skill that everyone should have. I honestly think it should be a subject in school, a skill taught to every child, even if just on a basic level.

Almost twenty years of having it and not needing it, but I'm really glad I had it that one moment I did need it.

Tech Baby

Most mornings when I leave for work, Claire and Ada are happily asleep in bed still. Usually Ada will wake up a little later, have a feed and go back to sleep for another hour or two, snuggled up in bed with her mommy. Claire, for her part, usually checks her phone for important messages from the previous sleeping hours while feeding.
Recently, this morning ritual played out and both mommy and baby went back to sleep, Claire having made absolutely certain that her phone was safely out of reach. Ada, however, had other ideas. Apparently, she pretended to fall asleep until Claire was unconscious, then got Claire's phone, opened the camera app and proceeded to record a three minute video of herself chatting and babbling in bed.
It's all disgustingly adorable, and I put it up on YouTube! With annotations!
Enjoy.

It's The Little Things

Before I became a father, I imagined what it would be like. A lot.

I thought about being there for the birth, seeing that first step, hearing her first word ("Spiduh-Man"). I thought about all the big things that parents cherish during those first years.

But it's so often the little things I never thought of that bring me the most joy.

Coming home from a long day at work and seeing that smile when she first sees me.

Laying her down on her changing mat and watching her twist and stretch to grasp the marker we keep nearby, catching it with tiny little fingers in any grip thaat works for her, and the happiness evident on her face when she gets it without help.

Hearing her babble at nothing, or babble at her chew toy.

Listening to her breathing as it slows, her head pressed into my neck, her little body warm against mine, and then, with a final sigh, she goes slack, asleep on my shoulder.

Just seeing her sitting upright.

Watching her try new foods.

There will be great big moments in her life that I will remember for years afterwords. Her first day at school. Her first boyfriend. Her first girlfriend! But among them, there will be countless tiny ones that might get forgotten in time, but I'll treasure them when they occur.

Laugh Until You Cry

Postpartum depression is a very common condition that can effect either parent. It's mildest form is often referred to as "The Baby Blues", and usually sees parents just despairing over little things, or getting emotional over what would be an inconsequential event at any other time. Neither of these states is anything even remotely a matter to joke about, nor are they anything to be ashamed of.

But the pendulum swings both ways, and Claire and I have had our fair share of uncontrollable hilarity in the last three weeks as well. Here are my top three moments, in chronological order, where one or both of us have just lost it.

On Hold

The day we brought Ada home from the hospital was, obviously an important day for both of us. We got to be a family in the privacy of our own home for the first time. Because we were home early in the day, it was also our first chance to Skype family at home and show off our daughter.

I rang mum on Skype so I could video-chat with her and introduce her properly to her granddaughter. Ada was a bit sleepy, but awake long enough to sit in my arms and say hi. Mum couldn't manage to get her video on her end to work, but could see us fine.

About ten minutes into the call mum's house phone rang, and she answered it, explaining to whoever was on the line that she was talking to her son and grandchild. But instead of making an excuse and getting back to us, she continued to have a full half hour conversation, while keeping the Skype call open. That's not an exaggeration. Skype displays the length of the call. It was, literally, a half hour of listening to mum talking to her friend.

Claire had been working on her PC behind me all this time, but not really paying attention to the conversation. At some point, I wandered away into the kitchen, and Claire realised mum was still talking.

"Who's she talking too?"

"Someone on the phone."

And that's when we both broke. Claire started to laugh. I started to laugh. Claire laughed at me laughing. I laughed at her laughing. Then Claire's stitches from the c-section started to really pain her, and she tried to get me to stop laughing, which only made me laugh more, causing her to laugh more. The tears were streaming down our faces before Claire escaped to the bedroom to calm down.

We could barely look at each other for the next hour without falling to fits of giggles.

Not So Sleeping Beauties

Claire had just gotten Ada to sleep. She handed our unconscious little daughter, just a few days old, to me, and Ada didn't stir, resting on my chest, mouth wide open. Claire reached to grab a camera to capture the pose, but when I spotted what she had planned, I tried to mimic the pose myself.

This just lead to Claire and I both bursting out in laughter, Claire once again cursing my name for making her laugh enough to strain her abdomen, me trying my best to not wake up a sleeping Ada, and both of us struggling to see through tear filled eyes.

It took five minutes for both of us to be still long enough at the same time to get one simple photograph, but over an hour to cure our giggles sufficiently to allow us to talk to each other again.

Zapped On The Funny Bone

Ada had been sleeping for a few hours and was in need to feeding and a diaper change. Ada loves her diaper change time, and will lie out on the mat oohing and ahhing and smiling and making faces the whole time. Claire was changing the diaper, but I wandered in to say hi.

In the middle of wiping Ada's bottom, Ada did what comes natural and let out a little fart. Her bottom was still wet, so it came out with a splutter, sounding, in hindsight, like an electric spark, or, worse, an explosive poop! Claire's hand shot away like it had been hit with a cattle prod, and she jumped back.

I doubled over with laughter. I had to grip on to the changing table to stay standing. I was finding it hard to breath. Every time I took a steadying breath, I'd look up and see Ada smiling at me, and crack up again. Claire finished putting on Ada's diaper and getting more and more frustrated at my hysterics. Eventually, she called her parents who were in the living room and they came in, wondering what all the chaos was about. Claire told me to explain myself, which simply caused me to laugh even harder.

At that point, she picked up our daughter and left for the living room. I picked myself up, dried my eyes, and followed her out to start writing this post.

I've been giggling for over two hours now.

Bonus Giggles
Claire was exhausted one day, but Ada needed feeding, so she took her and started nursing while lying out on the couch. Both mom and daughter fell asleep, while Ada was still attached, and, while very asleep, still feeding weakly. Eventually, Ada detached, but stayed asleep against Claire's boob. It was incredibly adorable, cute and funny, but, obviously, no photos to remember the moment.

Meet Ada Maria Ryan

On March 23rd, 2015 at 14:35 Pacific Standard Time Claire and I were delighted to meet our baby daughter for the first time, Ada Maria Ryan. She was tiny and beautiful and perfect and purple. Oh so very purple.

But let's rewind a bit first.

In July of 2014, after trying to get pregnant for almost two years, Claire announced to me that she was pregnant. Thus began weeks of nervous anticipation and worry that it might all be taken away, as nature sometimes does. But it was to be, and we told some of our family and friends the good news with our 12 week ultrasound, and everyone once we had our 20 week ultrasound.

Christmas came and went and Claire still wasn't even really showing. She started to have a noticable bump in early February, and gave up work at the start of March.

We had decided to use a midwife right away, and our dream was to have a water birth at home in our own apartment. All was going well until early March when we confirmed that our little Spawnling was in the breech position, head up instead of down.

We had a few options, namely a risky vaginal breech birth, a far less risky elective c-section, or, an attempt at turning the Spawnling in utero, through a process called External Celphalic Version, or ECV. Frankly, the thought of a c-section terrified us both, and there are very few doctors trained to do a vaginal breach birth thanks to a now discredited report from eleven years ago that adviced against it.

The attempt to turn the Spawnling with ECV failed, after five attempts over two sessions on the same morning, leaving Claire sore and upset. After discussing our remaining options together and with our midwife and doctor, Claire chose to go ahead with a c-section, and all I could do was be there to give her my full support.

That was not an easy choice to make for Claire. She is phobic of needles, or more specifically, injections, a condition called trypanophobia. One of the neccessities of pregnancy in the first world is a regular requirement to have blood taken, and be generally poked and prodded throughout the nine months. She was much more capable of facing a bloodtest by early March than the first time back before Christmas, but the thought of having an IV and an epidural was terrifying.

With an elective c-section, you're given a time and a date to be at the hospital, as well as a consultation a few days before. There is no stress, no hours and hours of labour, no rushing about like a headless chicken, panicing about what is or might happen. It actually felt a bit weird, and the night before was like the worst Christmas Eve ever! If you think waiting for Santa is exciting, try waiting for the best, most unique gift imaginable!

We woke up before 7am Monday morning so that Claire could have breakfast, as her major abdominal surgery required her to fast from 7am onwords. We took the bus into downtown and headed to the hospital a little ahead of time, arriving at Surgical Daycare just before 1pm.

Claire was brought into surgery at 2pm, an hour ahead of schedule, and while the staff got her set up, I was told to wait outside in the hall. At 2:25 I was called in and found Claire surrounded by hospital staff with a sheet dividing her head and shoulders from the rest of her body. I sat beside her and talked to her, just trying to keep her calm and focused on me.

At about 2:30, our obstetrician, the wonderful and hilarious Doctor Anderson, told me to stand up. When I did, I looked over the dividing sheet to find myself looking at Doctor Anderson holding a tiny bottom and two legs up. Only a tiny bottom and two legs. The rest of Spawnling, from chest up, was still securely inside Claire. Doctor Anderson twisted the legs a bit and we had the following conversation:

Doctor Anderson: Do you want to call it, Denis?

Me: Er... I think it's a girl.

Entire room laughs.

I sat back down and tried to hug Claire.

"It's Ada, Claire. It's our daughter, Ada."

A few minutes more, with another bit of pulling and pushing, and a purple, gooey Ada was brought around the curtain for Claire to see for the first time. She was taken to a table to be cleaned, and as I hugged Claire we heard her cry for the first time. I was called over to see her, and despite less than a minute old, apart from her hands and feet, she was a healthy shade of pink already. As soon as I stood near, I said "Hello Ada", and she just stopped crying, turning her head toward me. While her umbilical cord was cut to allow her to be moved to the table, it was left long to allow me to cut it to size.

Once she was cleaned up, she was brought back for Claire to hold. After a few minutes of just being close, Claire and I did what we had talked about before her birth: We started talking to Ada in Irish, welcoming her into the world in our native tongue. Ada, for her part, just lay on Claire's neck and breathed.

Out of the OR and back to a Recovery Room for a few hours where mommy, daddy and Ada could bond. After that we were brought to the room we would spend the next three days in. We got to meet the most extraordinarily wonderful nurses, get help with Ada's low blood sugar and high bilirubin levels, and relax in peace, while Claire recovered from her surgery.

On Thursday, March 26th, we were dismissed from the hospital, and came home to be a family at our own pace. Since then, we have learned so much about our little Spawnling. She refuses to sleep on her back, laughs at jokes we can't hear, loves having her diaper changed and dislikes baths. We can't stop looking at her, and I can't stop photographing her, in case I miss anything. New parents, eh? Yeesh!!

We still talk to her in Irish when we can, she sleeps at night lying on each of our chests in turn, and while Claire tries to breastfeed as much as possible, she eats more than Claire can give, so we supplement with formula, allowing me to do night feeds, leaving Claire to get some sleep. Because of that, and regular naps during the day, we've both been getting a lot of sleep and feeling great.

We've taken walks up to Safeway, just two blocks away, and longer walks around downtown. We've visited the park on a sunny day and relaxed on a bench. We've met friends for lunch in a restaurant and been able to eat without too much trouble.

Ada has become a wonderful addition to our family. We are lucky to have her, and hope that we'll prove to be great parents over the coming years and decades.

Related:
It Was All A Dream
Ada on Flickr