sup

water bunny & geek dad

Do not want! Do not want!

Oh. That's kinda nice.

Last week’s bath was a bit of a shock for Avery.  Too much freedom, too much action, not enough snuggle.  This week she was winding up for a good yell, but when her bum hit the water… oh… hang on… this is kinda nice.  You may continue the bathing, sir.

She likes a good yell, but she’s ready to admit when she likes something else.  Thatta girl.

Gramma Judy says we’re now fully qualified for parenting.  She leaves us in just a couple days, and we will miss her (oh, we will miss her!) but it’s good to know we’ve got her confidence.

Right now I’m watching a sleeping Avery via iPad, courtesy of the Withings Baby Monitor, my birthday gift from Lee and Suz.  Once you’ve got it set up, and you’ve updated the firmware, software and app, it works well.  Wifi and Bluetooth.  The frame rate is abysmal – maybe a frame per second, but I guess we’re not supposed to be looking for broadcast quality in a baby monitor, right?  The audio pickup works great, as does the night vision and the varicolored nightlight.  But the on-board speaker is terrible – the idea is that you can play music (or ocean sounds or white noise) or even talk to your baby (geekneat!) but let’s just say my baby deserves better sound.  You are so surprised to hear me say this.  Anyway, despite a couple shortcomings, the monitor, once it’s running dependably, is a Very Cool Thing.

Evidently I’m becoming a bit of a repository for knowledge of geekdad necessities.  Feel free to submit your questions in the comments.

Meanwhile, work hovers around the edges.  I had time to mix a two and a half minute promo for L’Oréal Professionnel, and then time to do it again when they asked for another round of picture changes.  Avery was very cooperative today, to say nothing of Gramma’s seemingly effortless skills.  Marjorie continues to amaze with her resilience.  Here’s me whining about my bad knee and she’s barbecuing my chicken.  That’s not a euphemism.  I can’t even imagine how it would be… dammit, now I’m going to have to figure out how to use it as one.

In other news, Chaos Complex submitted two treatments to the Whistler Film Festival’s “China Canada Gateway For Film Script Competition”.  We had four in the works, but some clown decided to have a baby and drop off the face of the planet for a few weeks, and we ran out of time to finish development on the others.  So we’ve got two strong treatments on their way.  Both are warm stories ideal for festivals and indie awards, if that paints the picture.  If we are selected as finalists, we’ll have to be in Whistler at the end of November to pitch to the Chinese production companies.  I will not be with the team on this one.  It’s a bit too soon for me to comfortably be so far away from my brand new family.  I have faith in the fellas.

Now, if we win, things get crazy very quickly.  Turnaround from concept to distribution is less than a year for a typical Chinese production.  That’s like… anything you’ve seen from The Asylum.  Yes, you should click that link.  But what I’m saying is that while Fuel is exponentially expanding its website and education program, and while CB is “developing a promising relationship” with schools and chains, and while TimeSquared Software is approaching beta testing for the biggest, most powerful business app you’ve ever seen, and while Chaos is developing a tv series with “certain undisclosed A-List talents”, and while Chaos continues development of its first feature, and while Chaos continues to shop its utterly ground-breaking other tv series, and while Adrian is joyfully diving into family life… while all that is going on simultaneously, we’re also going to be making a movie.  In China.

I need to catch my breath here…

iPad baby monitor – Avery has these cutest little duckie sleepers.  Just adorable.  We had a nap today – she fidgeted until she could wiggle her head up against my arm, and then settled right down.

There.  That’s better.

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Peppermint & Daddy

tell me more

Tell me more of this "breast feeding".

Today Avery is 12 days old.  I guess in the milestone sense, 12 days doesn’t seem that momentous.  Not sure why it feels like it is.  Maybe it’s because after four days of a very vocal little girl, we got our hands on Dr Harvey Karp’s “The Happiest Baby on the Block“, learned his 5 Ss, and feel like we’re getting on top of things.  What was a very loud (and common) mystery is now a manageable phase.  “Manageable” being relative.  Little bunny might be distracted for a while, but if she’s conscious, she’s really only interested in nipple time.  Anything else is protested in no uncertain terms.

Today is a milestone because I zipped down to Babies R Us and picked up a Snugabunny swing, snugged our bunny into it, and… silence.  She loves it.  We love it.  It’s a sure 20 minutes of contentment – before she snaps out of it and wants that danged nipple again.  But still.  20 minutes, people.  It’s a victory worthy of shouting from the rooftops.

Am I getting ahead of myself?

The story thus far:  Avery is growing.  She’s grown an inch since she was born – 5% vertical in 12 days!  Hey – she eats at the finest restaurant in town.  M’s mom has been here most days to help out and has been a godsend.  M is healing very well from surgery – she’s not playing volleyball yet, but she can (more or less) stand up in one move.  I’m staying ahead of the dishes and cleaning, and always present for diaper duty.  I had never quite understood how one baby could exhaust two adults, and I’m still not entirely sure how it happens, but we are both kept busy around the clock, getting in a couple hours sleep whenever we can.  Sometimes four!

Insofar as a completely random schedule dictated by the tummy of an infant can be routine, we are finding a routine.  I can usually get a couple of hours of work done each day after M and Avery are down.  Talk about appreciating my job – everyone is going way out of their way to make sure our little family has some time to find its feet.  It really is appreciated – back at Empire HQ they’re juggling bowling balls.  Our doctors made it very clear that Marjorie wasn’t to attempt to lift anything heavier than a baby for six weeks, and if I had to be 100% on hand for the whole six weeks, I’m not sure what sort of situation I’d be going back to.  So it’s awesome that M is healing well and Avery is… doing exactly what newborns do.  I think it’s all going to work out just fine, with a gradual increase in workload.

Avery is amazing.  When she’s not obsessing over milk or zonked out in a milk coma, she’s very attentive.  She tries to watch everything, especially the lights.  Apparently she can’t see blue and violet yet, and depth perception is more than four months off, but whatever she’s seeing, it’s fascinating.  For her and for me.

Some other stuff I didn’t know:

  • Normally, the mucous in a baby’s stomach is squeezed out as she travels through the birth canal.  Caesarian births don’t get that helpful squeeze, and that mucous has to come out somehow.  Many newborns manage to sneeze it out safely.  Others need help.  Be ready.
  • For a couple of days, newborn girls can bleed vaginally a bit, but it’s just the hormones finding their starting point.  Don’t panic.
  • There can be amber crystals in the urine while the plumbing sorts itself out.  No worries.
  • Poop is the harbinger of healthy development, and you will watch with eager anticipation as it changes from sticky black tar to, well, mustard.
  • Babies go through a lot of diapers.  Pretty much one feed, one change.  And you might feed ten times a day.  Or more.
  • Breastfeeding may be very natural, but it is not an instinctual skill.  There’s subtlety of technique, and it’s important, both for babies and momma’s extremely hard working nipples.  New moms – don’t be shy about dropping in on a breast feeding class.  You will be amazed how much you don’t know.
  • Newborns really do love to be swaddled up quite snuggly to sleep, and don’t have much use for our beloved concepts of personal space and freedom.  When those little arms flail out, it’s a panic reflex, just like if you were suddenly tossed out of bed.  A snug safe swaddle is a happy place for a baby.
  • A Caesarian birth is a great opportunity for Dad to bond with his little girl.  Mom needs him to help – a lot.  I cannot imagine how a single mom can do it.  Respect.  Dads – this is your shot.  Do not miss it.  Be present and committed and forget about sitting down today.  You’re on duty.  Time to shine.
  • Babies can peel after coming home.  A whole layer of skin just… sheds right off.  Like too much sun but without the burn.  Don’t worry about it.  And don’t put lotion on it.  You have any idea what nonsense they put in lotions these days?  In fact, she doesn’t need anything beyond basic hygiene for weeks.  Warm, clean water for diaper changes.  A weekly bath with the gentlest of baby body wash.
  • She doesn’t really need a reason to cry, as such.  Her motivations these days are pretty simple – 1) eat, 2) be comfortable.  If she’s yelling, you’ll try to feed her.  If that doesn’t work, or only works for a minute, she’s just trying to find comfort.  See motivation 1.  Yikes.  So moms find other ways to soothe.  Dr Karp’s video really helped.  Swaddle, Side/Stomach position, Swinging, Shushing, Sucking (pacifier good).

The tv came on for the first time in two weeks last night.  We thought we’d watch an episode of Game of Thrones.  Time Warner sucks at delivering a consistent stream though (even at the package rate I’m paying), so we turned it off after ten minutes.  Time Warner may hear about it, or I might just cancel.  We don’t seem to have much time for tv, and we don’t seem to be missing it.  Maybe that’ll change in a few months.

Anyway, despite having nothing pressing to say beyond your classic update, I told myself I would write more often now that I’m a dad.  I’m almost guaranteed a readership increase of 1 in a decade or two.  And then she’ll demand I destroy it lest her boyfriend should discover it.  Or (gasp) her school friends!  We’ll see, little bunny.  We’ll see.  Muahaha.

I’m kidding, of course.  I’m totally on her side.  I’m the cool daddy.  I think.  Aren’t I the cool daddy?  Hmm.

Peppermint & Daddy

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Avery Peppermint Taverner and Daddy

Avery Peppermint Taverner

Welcome to the world, little bunny.  I’m going to make sure you love it here.

You were born at 9:49am on Monday, September 17 at Beth Israel here in New York.  You were 7lbs, 14.4oz, and 20.5″, which is a nice average weight and above average length.  We all worked so hard to make it happen – you included.  You have these adorable big feet, and your daddy’s nose (which he got from his dad) and so far you have your mum’s eyes, but you never can tell at first.

It’s hard to know how much of the story to tell here.  We think we could do some good by sharing our experience, both the positive and the negative (nothing about you is negative, bunny!).  Let’s see.  Marjorie’s pregnancy was just about perfect – all the right things happened at the right time, and every check up showed Baby growing just right.  As pregnant people do, we worried that things were going too well.  Silly people, I know.  Mostly we enjoyed the thrill of imminent parenthood.

As the due date approached, came and went, Braxton Hicks became contractions, which poked their heads around the corner every once in a while.  But they sure took their time.  A whole week.  Nevertheless, as they say, Things Were Starting to Happen.  Then they really Started to Happen.

After 40 hours of labor, much of it in Marjorie’s back, we finally got her contractions pretty consistently under 4 minutes (walking is definitely the secret).  Many of them lasted over 2 minutes (nobody mentioned that in the literature), and only hip compression made them bearable.  Thank you, Bradley Method!  At the hostpital, we were devastated when Joyce, our midwife, told us the cervix was only 1cm dilated.  One centimeter!  She offered us three options –

  • Go home and keep working on it; go for walks; climb some stairs.  This wasn’t really an option after 40 hours.  We were exhausted.
  • Active management; check in to the hospital, try some natural techniques to get things moving.  Go to an epidural if all else fails.  This was marginally better, but again, 40 hours had left her pretty wiped, and we still held out for our Bradley Method-inspired natural Birth Plan.
  • Morphine.  Give Marjorie 4 hours of rest and pick up where we left off.  Very tempting, but people that go to Bradley classes are not usually the people who embrace the idea of opiating their babies.

So we started active management.  Hot shower, a few other tricks.  After five hours, things were indeed moving along – but we only had 2cm and the pain was almost constant – front, back, front, back – and close to unbearable.  Time to talk more seriously.  The Birth Plan was going to have to take a step back.  At 48 hours, Marjorie needed that epidural.

Over the next five hours, we were left as alone as possible to rest.  For me, the heart rate monitor was a comfort.  I had watched it vary reliably for hours already, and listening to it allowed me to slip into an exhausted sleep.  As a mom, Marjorie is wired differently, and she stayed wide awake, listening to every beat.  Five times during the night, Avery’s heart rate would decelerate (normal) and recover slowly (not normal), and doctors would bustle into the room to get Marjorie to roll to her opposite side (hello, epidural – not bloody likely).  It was far from a restful night.

When Joyce came in to check the dilation in the morning, I found some cheerleadery enthusiasm and Marjorie smiled hopefully.

6cm.

On the one hand, things were progressing.  On the other, mother and daughter were near the end of their ropes.  We talked about the possibility of C-section.  Unlikely, but best to be prepared.  Nobody was happy with those slow heart rate recoveries, which were a sign of distress and could lead to brain damage.  After all our optimism and careful research and planning, the strings were being tugged out of our hands.  As Bradley coach, I clung to the bright side – this wasn’t failure.  Just a different path.  And besides, it was just a maybe.  After all, 6cm is well on the way.

The nurse (Lorraine – sweet as candy) took me for a tour basically to the end of the hall to show me where I’d wait while they prepped Marjorie for surgery (in the unlikely event).  She pointed out the surgery theater and reassured me with lots of information like how the room would be arranged, where I would sit, and what would happen after.  She reminded me to bring my camera, which was brilliant of her.

When we got back, the room was full of doctors, and midwife Rochelle had joined Joyce.  Avery’s heart had dipped again and play time was over.  Things were suddenly fast and scary.  I didn’t even get a chance to reassure Marjorie before she was whisked away.  Out of it all, that is what bothers me – if she and I just had a minute to get centered, we could have approached the emergency together and with determination.  It’s a very common surgery, after all.  As it was, we were terrified and separated.

I put on my sterile blue paper coveralls.  I waited.  Through the doors I could see Marjorie, pale and limp on the operating table.  Doctors and nurses buzzed thickly around her.  I tried not to think about anything but a shining golden outcome.  I clutched my iPhone and thought about taking pictures of my new daughter with her beaming mother.

Lorraine came out to usher me in.  I was shaking.  A wall of medical professionals efficiently blocked my view of everything below the fabric curtain across Marjorie’s chest.  I dug deep, trying to breathe, trying to find a place from which I could be her rock.  I brushed her hair from her eyes, stroked her arm, held her hand.  I talked about how we were going to meet our little girl in just a few minutes.  We tried to stay positive.  It was really hard.

I will never forget her body lurching around as the doctors worked.  You’ve seen the end of Braveheart – where Mel is strapped to the torture table.  The camera stays on his face as the executioner hooks him through the bowels and yanks.  It was like that.  That was hard.

We heard several ooohs and ahhs from which I took enormous reassurance.  Our girl was being born.  The lead surgeon, a briskly efficient woman, said congratulations to us from the other side of the blue wall.  Then there was a moment – only three or four seconds but Marjorie swears it lasted for days – before we heard our girl cry out.

Yep.  I burst into tears.  I sobbed.  I kissed Marjorie’s forehead through my paper mask and we cried in relief and joy and still more fear.  After a few long minutes while they sorted my two girls out, I was brought over to the warming table where the most perfect little bunny you ever saw was blinking brand new eyes and flexing brand new lungs.

Then, well, there was a long while of anxiousness while they mended Marjorie and logged Avery.  I bobbed back and forth between them with updates and pictures for Marjorie (thank you, iPhone).  Finally, while surgeons and nurses counted sponges and instruments (twice and with great care), Marjorie was wheeled to Recovery while I followed our bunny to the nursery.  There I stayed while she was weighed, measured and tested.  That’s where Marjorie’s mom Judy found me an hour later.  We hugged and she gave me a strawberry Yop, the single most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.  The two moms texted and talked and I was relieved of sentry duty to go find some proper food and fresh air.

And eventually, after Marjorie could move her legs, we were all reunited in the post partum ward.  Our eternal gratitude goes to the nurses of L&D and of Dazian 5, who make a cold place feel human, and took the time to give a lot of information some context.

And through it all, Gramma Judy, who brought her years of expertise as a maternity nurse herself to the table.  We could have managed without her, but that’s what it would have been – managing.

With Judy, well: The next day I went home to shower and nap for a couple hours (do I never learn?  Do not leave the room!).  As I was pulling myself together to return, Marjorie called, saying we’d just had a scare.  Avery had coughed, then choked, then stopped breathing altogether.  Judy and Rochelle tried to aspirate her nose, but weren’t winning.  As Avery turned blue, Judy yanked the call button cable out of the wall, which brought the floor team running.  They flew her down to the intensive care unit and brought her through it.

My mother in law is welcome in my house anytime.

As testament to the awesome power of motherhood, Marjorie was up out of bed, stomach staples and all, and charging down the hall with the rest of them – do not mess with mama bear.

Life in the ward is surreal.  It’s very simple.  Take care of the baby.  Take care of mum.  Eat.  Sleep.  Well, try to catch a few minutes of sleep.  Time has no meaning.  The rest of the world is unimportant.  Your list of priorities fits comfortably on the fingers of one hand.  Texts, emails and calls would flow in, around and away from us.  We didn’t respond much.  My apology isn’t very sincere, but… sorry about that.  Our world was very small.

Eventually, they sent us home.  As the culmination of nine months of deliberation, we named our little girl Avery Peppermint, filled out the paperwork, and we left.  We’d arrived as a couple on Sunday afternoon; we left as a family on Thursday.  We caught a cab and came home.

Life is still pretty simple.  We’re slowly letting the rest of the world blend back in.  A few times now, we’ve managed three straight hours of sleep, and we’re starting to feel like people again.  I vacuumed today.  Cleaned the kitchen.  We’ve returned texts and emails and calls.  We’ve introduced Avery to most of her New York family, and Skyped with the Phillips clan in Vancouver.  Gramma and Grampa Taverner get their turn to meet her on Skype tomorrow, and they’ll be down to visit in person in less than three weeks.

Avery is strong.  She’s alert.  She’s solemn and she’s curious about everything.  Every day, she’s more present.  She’s grown half an inch and hasn’t lost the usual newborn weight.  The plumbing works (oh it’s working, people) and I don’t mind changing those diapers one bit.  It’s my very great pleasure.

My shining golden outcome.

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