Sydney

Is three months old now, and largely the reason I haven't written anything in so long. She pushes herself up onto her elbows whenever she's on her stomach, and pretty much has the whole 'holding my head still' thing down. She loves to sit up (still have to prop her; she dosen't quite got the hang of that yet) and be a part of the conversation, insofar as she is able.

About that: she id highly vocal, not crying and screaming (though she does her fair share of that...), but making sounds and trying out her voice. She occasionally suprises herself with what comes out of her mouth.

she also loves to laugh and smile, and I have quicklyy learned that there is little I won't do for that smile. Nomi has taken to calling her the Strongest Baby in the World: "She can wrap a 280 pound man around her little finger."

I know understand certain things I didn't before, like pictures in wallets. I never, never, had pictures of anybody in my wallet, but now I have a few of Nomi and I and a couple of Sydney. At work, I find myself looking at them and grinning a stupid grin.

Also, I understand what people mean when they say they don't want their kids to grow up. A small part of me wants sydney to stay this young forever, and the knowledge that, one day, she will have a like of her own makes me very sad.

******

I read an essay once, about a British woman who married and American discussing the common language barrier that Britian and America share. He would ask her opinion on a necklace or some candlesticks or some other knick-knack ("It's a knick-knack Patty Back; give the frog a loan.") and she would say "It's quite nice," then be mystified when he bought it. You see, in England, 'quite' softens enthusiasm reather than intensifies it. This also explains that he meant know insult when he called her home cooked meals "Quite good."

Nomi and I shared a moment like this the other day. I have a problem, sometimes, of remembering to do the shores she asks of me (in fact, every single screaming match we've gotten into has been over chores.). She feels that I don't attach importance to what she asks of me, and I have trouble convincing her that there is no malice (nor indeed, any thought at all) in my absentmindedness. We almost had another fight it about when, something clicked in my mind.

Naomi will frequently say. "The one thing I need you to do today is X" which I always took to mean, "Here is a single item (as opposed to three or four) to add to the list of things you want to accomplish today." It always seemed that it didn't really matter if I finished it or not, as it was just one more thing on the list. What she means is, "The most important thing you can do for me today is X"

Every major argument we've had boiled down to the simple problem of two peopel speaking the same language. Further proof, in my mind, that language and communication are among the most complicated things on the planet.

***

I san an interesting thing on 60 Minutes today about stress and aging. We've all heard that stress ages you, but now, a psychologist working with a molecular biologist, have proven that sentiment to be true, and pinpointed how it occurs.

The DNA that resides in every cell in your body is "capped" on either end by a structure the biologist likened to the plastic caps on shoelaces (I forget their proper name). These caps wear thin and brittle with age, until eventually, they break, the DNA unravels, and the cell dies. This is why we lose eyesight and muscle strength as we get older.

The study, in order to find people with a lot of stress in their lives, used 30 mothers who cared for children with chronic diseases like autism or cancer. The researchers got the mothers thoughts on the stress in their lives: how much they felt, how well they feel they cope, as well as recorded their bio-chemical responses to sressful situations. They also examined earch womans DNA. The research concluded that excessive stress and, more importantly, feeling unable to cope with it, , had the same effect on the DNA caps as aging. The effect was not minor; the women who were coping poorly had effectivly aged 10 years over the ones who were managing. A figure the biologist called "very conservative."

I do not feel

that fatherhood has required me to make any uncomfortable sacrifices. I've heard that some new fathers really resent the responsabilities and personal limitations that come with having a child. For the most part, I just accept them as things that I have to, and I do them quite gladly.

There is one exception, however. Being married (to a certain extent) and have a baby (to a much larger extent) has robbed me of my ability to leave suddenly and quickly. Time was I would drive, the long way, to Las Vegas on a few hours notice. Drive all night to spend the day in Salt Lake City on mere minutes notice. These times are no more. Now, even a short trip to the grocery store reqiures locating all the gear that small children need. Diaper bag (also got to pack it), stroller, blankets, binks and bottles. If anything is forgotten, the trip becomes remarkably difficult.

There is a part of me that mourns the loss of my mobility, even resents my family for it. The other part of me understands that that chapter of my life is closed, and that a new one has begun.

Long time, no blog.

I've been a little busy, as you can imagine. Sydney is now more than a month old and, for all of us, it has been a month of firsts.

First poopy diaper, then shortly, first empty pack of diapers.

First (of many) sleepless night.

First car trip where we forgot to buckle the baby in her car seat.

etc.

I'm not very inspiried at this point, so we'll close it here.

Nomi has had a few. . .

vainglorious moments regarding Sydney. On Memorial Day, we were sitting in the Rose Garden gazeebo, enjoying the afternoon as people passed us by. After about ten minutes, Nomi leaned into me and asked in an irritated whisper, "Why aren't people telling me how cute my baby is!"

The next day, we were riding in an elevator to Syds first pediatric visit. Another woman got in the lift and Nomi started cooing and fussing over our baby. The woman looks over and coos "Aww, how precious!" Once we were out of the elevator, Naomi confessed that she started making noise in order to draw attention to how cute Sydney is.

Pretty horrible, isn't it? Although, truth be told, I'm inclined to agree with Nomi: Sydney's a damn cute baby.

Sydney has been home a few days now,

and we're settling in nicely. I'm waiting for God to yell "Not!" and Syd to develop a six month case of colic. She sleeps well, dosen't fuss for no reason, and nurses like a champ.

I fear

fir the future of videogames. Read this (and this) and fear also.

What weighs 6lbs, 13oz and is 20 inches long?

No, you idiots, it's my daughter.

Here is the story of how my daughter, Sydney Elizabeth Ferree came into existence. You can go here to see some pictures online (click 'sydney elizabeth' in the left hand column).

On the evening of Thursday, May 25th, we checked into St. Alphonsus Hospital. Nomi was given a drug to help her cervix dilate, and it required about 12 hours to work. The next day, she was given Pitoson (usure of spelling) a drug that starts contractions and gets labor rolling. Contractions started about 6 am, and steadily increased throughout the day. Around noon, the doctor decided to break Naomi's water to help things along. This was very painful for Nomi, so we opted to have an epidural put in to help with the pain. Around five pm, it seemed that her dilation had leveled off, and was not yet at the 10 centimeters necessary for delivery. They gave it a few more hours, and with no appreciable progress, the decision was made to do a c-section.

Naomi was wheeled away, and I was given a suit, hat, and booties to wear in the operating room. A few minutes later, I was called for, and sat on a stool near Naomi's head to comfort her. The docs had raised a sheet across her shoulders so I did not actually see how they did it. About 30 minutes later, Sydney had arrived. She was checked out for several minutes on a nearby table. I was allowed to take some pictures, but it was with a film camera, and we have not developed them yet. Shortly, they let me take Sydney in my arms and carry her to the recovery room.

Official stats are: Thursday, May 26 8:52 PM; 6 pounds 13 ounces; 20 inches long.

Sydney was very active, looking around and crying some, though not much. By all accounts, she was an extremely healthy baby. A neo-natologist came in for a brief word and remarked "That dose not look like a child of a diabetic mother." Naomi, on the other hand, suffered some complications, though not serious ones. Her blood sugar was extremely high, and her blood pressure was extremely low (at one point dropping to 80/20), aking her very tired and confused, while at the same time almost convulsing as her body burned off the andrenaline. It took a couple hours, but she came out of it fine, and was allowed to return to her room with the baby and all the family.

We stayed in the hospital all day Friday and Saturday, and left around noon on Sunday. We could have stayed another night, but Nomi and the baby had recovered remarkably and the doctors gave us the ok to go home, and we were eager to get out of the hospital. For being an institution of healing, it's amazing how little sleep ones gets while admitted.

Sydney is home now, and I'm wondering what I did to deserve such a mild baby; certainly Nomi and I were not this noce to our parents (my father in law describes Sydney's tempermant as "completely unfair." Aside: My father in law is the first male in his family to live long enough to see a grandchild in at least three generations. I think that's cool.)