CallumandAimee-wedding
Originally uploaded by Pamela PC
Just a hint of the gorgeousness that was Italy — and Caroline and Stephen’s wedding. We had an amazing time and the whole family made it back and forth without too many disasters.
Originally uploaded by Pamela PC
Today, I watched my eldest son take off to school (accompanied by daddy, of course) on his brand-new birthday-present scooter. As this newly-minted 3-year-old whizzed away, struggling a little to find his balance and master turning, I thought, “my little boy is growing up.” How bittersweet.
I’m sure the copious amounts of cupcake frosting we’ll be consuming will dull the bitterness. Happy birthday, Callum!
Cutest passport photo ever
Originally uploaded by Pamela PC
In preparation for our trip to Italy for Caroline and Stephen’s wedding, we’ve been jumping through bureaucratic hoops to get a passport for Rory. One step was getting this passport photo. To be acceptable to the authorities, he had to be facing forward with his eyes open. Let’s just say it took three separate photo sessions (interspersed with crying and intense soothing efforts) to come up with this. No wonder I’m pleased.
(Note: This post as originally composed was a huge bandwidth hog, so I’m reconstituting it via Flickr)
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Originally uploaded by Pamela PC
Rory Melvin was born at 10:15 pm on June 5th. He was 7 lbs and 2 oz. Mom and baby are healthy and doing well.
By now, a day before my due date, I’ve scoured the Internet for birth stories — stories of water breaking, of castor-oil-taking, of mad rushes to the hospital, of C-sections. I’m looking for clues of what to expect. Nine months ago, we started down the inexorable path to the baby’s birth. As the clock counted down, my tummy grew bigger, I began to feel movement, and I experienced a host of other symptoms. Now I’ve reached the last few days, and I look for portents of how it will end. What will this boy’s birth story be?
I know how it was with Callum. I never went into labor, having been induced the day before my due date after experiencing nothing resembling contractions. It was a Saturday. They started the Pitocin at around 8 a.m. and, after some serious pain, an epidural and a brief low-heart-rate scare, vacuum extracted him out at around 1 p.m. I was almost surprised he was actually with us, so focused had I been on the birth. What an amazing experience.
But what will the beginning look like for #2? Will I go into labor, as these on-and-off contractions I’ve been experiencing would seem to indicate? If so, will it be in the middle of the night? Early in the morning? Mid-day, as I sit here on maternity leave watching the TiVo-ed LOST season finale? Will I ride by myself over the Brooklyn Bridge to the Manhattan hospital on the subway, experiencing mild but regular contractions? Will Michael drive me in our car? Will I be overtaken, alone, by major contractions and have to call a car service while Michael is at work?
I’m not set to see my doctor again until next Thursday — several days past d-day. By that time, the discussion at the doctor’s office will probably be around induction, as I know the doctor’s office doesn’t think we should go as long as, or further than, 41 weeks, as they say the risk of problems grows greater then. By that time, no matter how serious my commitment to a natural process, I will probably be ready for a little help, perhaps in the form of Pitocin. I’ve already tried the spicy food. Not yet the castor oil.
But for now, I try to relax and wonder, every morning, will today be the day? Is this squirming little creature ready to join us on this blue-skies first day of June? What story will I be telling, here, a few days from now? What story will I be telling the little one, years down the line, on his birthday? I’m desperately looking forward to finding out.
Cross-posted from Free Range.
We’re standing on the edge of a whole new family reality, ready to emerge on the other side as a foursome, rather than a threesome. For now, though, things are pretty normal — well, as normal as they can be with a nearly-three-year-old and a nine-months-pregnant woman in the house.
Bloated and enormous as I feel, I’m aware things haven’t changed so tremendously yet. These are the last days when I can refer to Callum as my favorite boy in the whole wide world. I can still cuddle him with my attention undivided. We can still make our family plans without packing #1 size diapers and breaking out the Baby Bjorn.
This weekend, we had some very special moments as a family. Last night, after peeking outside, Michael declared he’d seen fireflies, so we rushed to get Callum into his pyjamas so we could wander into the back yard and take a look. Callum’s eyes were wide and excited. He’d heard about this phenomenon known as a firefly, and Mommy and Daddy were about to introduce him to some. Alas, once we got outside, none of the creatures could be spotted, but, in those moments, we fully experienced the anticipation of introducing our son to some of the wonders of this life. That’s what makes parenting worthwhile. (Well, that, and the cuddles.)
Though the fireflies never materialized, we did have some family “firsts” this weekend. We fillled up the baby wading pool in the back yard for the first time, and some of Callum’s bath toys migrated outside. I even put on my maternity bathing suit and plopped down myself, the new vantage point allowing me to discover a purple and yellow iris hiding behind the weeds.
We also went to the park on Monday and took in one of those legendary NYC experiences — kids running through spraying water fountains set up to cool them off. When we arrived at the park, the stroller ride had lulled Callum to sleep, so we sat on a bench and parked him in the shade, watching him closely for signs of awakening. Once he opened his eyes (we’d started calling his name at the first sign of stirring), his first words were, “the water is on!”
Callum took a little while to warm up to the idea of getting wet, but he was perfectly happy to kick his soccer ball under the streams and insist that Daddy go get it. It was a great opportunity for Michael to take Callum’s hand and nudge him along. After some initial hesitation, they rushed through the spray together, kicking the ball exuberantly. After a while, Callum grew quite comfortable, and Michael started to shiver with cold. Ah, the sacrifices he’s made for being a dad.
Yes, it’s just been another weekend of joy, and incessant “why?”s. I think we’re now ready for #2 to come along, whenever he’s ready.
Cross-posted from Free Range
Callum sings in the bathtub
Originally uploaded by Pamela PC
Our boy’s vocabulary, and the resulting ability to string together song lyrics, have been coming along rather nicely. Here, his father’s influence is clearly evident.