Today Rocco went to the pediatrician for his 3 month check up.
He weighs 14 pounds and 4 ounces.
He measures 25.25 inches long.
He got two vaccines. He handled them like a trooper.
He seems to be feeling well.
Rocco is very good natured. He smiles. He loves music.
We are still working on getting him to sleep for longer stretches at a time.
But even at 3am he brings us so much joy.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
The Perfect Day
Woke up about 7 to the sound of Rocco fussing.
Nursed the baby.
Snuggled with the dog.
Took a 2 mile walk to my parents house.
Surprised them with a visit.
Walked 2 miles home.
Went for pancakes.
Took a 2 hour nap with Eric, Rocco, and Tilly.
Took a shower.
Dressed the baby.
Washed the bedding.
Had an iced coffee and a Moon Pie.
Went grocery shopping.
Sang to Rocco while in the store.
Bought him a stuffed dog.
Put groceries away.
Walked into town.
Named Rocco's new stuffed dog. Frankie.
Had dinner with my parents.
Took a walk.
Put the clean bedding on the bed.
Gave Rocco a bath.
Gave him a massage and put on his PJs.
Put on one of Eric's extra large Tshirts.
Now I'm nursing the baby.
Watching some mindless TV with Eric.
I'm looking forward to some low fat vanilla ice cream and Hershey's syrup.
And snuggling into a bed with clean sheets.
Nursed the baby.
Snuggled with the dog.
Took a 2 mile walk to my parents house.
Surprised them with a visit.
Walked 2 miles home.
Went for pancakes.
Took a 2 hour nap with Eric, Rocco, and Tilly.
Took a shower.
Dressed the baby.
Washed the bedding.
Had an iced coffee and a Moon Pie.
Went grocery shopping.
Sang to Rocco while in the store.
Bought him a stuffed dog.
Put groceries away.
Walked into town.
Named Rocco's new stuffed dog. Frankie.
Had dinner with my parents.
Took a walk.
Put the clean bedding on the bed.
Gave Rocco a bath.
Gave him a massage and put on his PJs.
Put on one of Eric's extra large Tshirts.
Now I'm nursing the baby.
Watching some mindless TV with Eric.
I'm looking forward to some low fat vanilla ice cream and Hershey's syrup.
And snuggling into a bed with clean sheets.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Got a light?
One day when I feel he is old enough to know I was a smoker, I will thank Rocco for helping me quit.
I have tried to quit smoking dozens of times. Cold turkey, the patch, the gum, Chantix, hypnosis! You name it, I tried it. I would typically last a day or two. The longest I went without a cigarette was in 2007. I did not smoke for about 90 days. I quit that year on my birthday right before Eric (a non smoker) and I started dating. I had a lovely smoke free summer. But that fall when my last year of graduate school started I freaked out. I realized I did not know how to sit in front of the computer for hours with out chain smoking and drinking coffee. I slowly started up again.
I smoked for 19 years. Yes, you read correctly. 19 years. Smoking made me happy. Smoking relaxed me. Comforted me. Woke me up. Calmed me down. Eventually I was smoking against my will. I was smoking because I had to.
When I found out I was pregnant I immediately wanted to smoke. I remember putting the third pregnancy test down on the bathroom counter and saying to Eric "Shit! I really want to smoke!" And I did.
That was a Friday. I had about 10 cigarettes left in my pack. I don't even remember what I was smoking at the time. Cigarettes were getting expensive and I was experimenting with cheaper brands than Parliament Lights. I think I was smoking Pall Malls.
I knew I was going to quit. There was no way I was going to smoke through my pregnancy. But I did not think I was going to be able to do it. I remember thinking that I wasn't strong enough to stop.
I took my time smoking those cigarettes that weekend. I would smoke half, clip it, smoke the rest later. I spaced them out. Mindful with each drag that I was no longer destroying my own health but that the health of my unborn child was at risk. I even tried rationalizing my behavior. I encounter women all of the time who drink and use drugs through their pregnancies. Some nicotine was nothing compared to alcohol and crack. I see plenty of healthy babies born to women who drink and do drugs while pregnant. Smoking wasn't a big deal.
That Monday before I went to bed I told Eric I was smoking my last cigarette as I headed outside. He rolled his eyes and said, "Okay". He has heard that before. I smoked that cigarette ridden with guilt. Feeling selfish but trying to enjoy every pull because this really was going to be my last cigarette.
Before I got into bed I got on my knees. I talk to God regularly but usually in the car or after I have already snuggled under the covers. I never pray on my knees. But that night I really needed help. I asked God to remove my obsession to smoke cigarettes.
And it worked.
God lifted my obsession. Or it could have been that I was vomiting so much that the thought of a cigarette was the furthest thing from my mind. Who knows? Who cares?
I have smoked since. I have smoked three cigarettes since last July. And they were disgusting. It will never be the same again. They will never taste as delicious or make me feel 'good'. They smell bad. They feel awkward in my hand. I can't inhale. My lungs hurt when I try. I have romanticized it.
My own well being was not enough for me to stop smoking. Watching my Grandmother die from years of smoking didn't scare me. Watching my Uncle Frank tote an oxygen tank around with him for years did not convince me. It was Rocco. Before we even knew he was going to be a Rocco.
So, one day when I think it is appropriate to crush my son who I am sure is going to worship me and think I can do no wrong I will let him know of my sordid past. And thank him for saving my life.
I have tried to quit smoking dozens of times. Cold turkey, the patch, the gum, Chantix, hypnosis! You name it, I tried it. I would typically last a day or two. The longest I went without a cigarette was in 2007. I did not smoke for about 90 days. I quit that year on my birthday right before Eric (a non smoker) and I started dating. I had a lovely smoke free summer. But that fall when my last year of graduate school started I freaked out. I realized I did not know how to sit in front of the computer for hours with out chain smoking and drinking coffee. I slowly started up again.
I smoked for 19 years. Yes, you read correctly. 19 years. Smoking made me happy. Smoking relaxed me. Comforted me. Woke me up. Calmed me down. Eventually I was smoking against my will. I was smoking because I had to.
When I found out I was pregnant I immediately wanted to smoke. I remember putting the third pregnancy test down on the bathroom counter and saying to Eric "Shit! I really want to smoke!" And I did.
That was a Friday. I had about 10 cigarettes left in my pack. I don't even remember what I was smoking at the time. Cigarettes were getting expensive and I was experimenting with cheaper brands than Parliament Lights. I think I was smoking Pall Malls.
I knew I was going to quit. There was no way I was going to smoke through my pregnancy. But I did not think I was going to be able to do it. I remember thinking that I wasn't strong enough to stop.
I took my time smoking those cigarettes that weekend. I would smoke half, clip it, smoke the rest later. I spaced them out. Mindful with each drag that I was no longer destroying my own health but that the health of my unborn child was at risk. I even tried rationalizing my behavior. I encounter women all of the time who drink and use drugs through their pregnancies. Some nicotine was nothing compared to alcohol and crack. I see plenty of healthy babies born to women who drink and do drugs while pregnant. Smoking wasn't a big deal.
That Monday before I went to bed I told Eric I was smoking my last cigarette as I headed outside. He rolled his eyes and said, "Okay". He has heard that before. I smoked that cigarette ridden with guilt. Feeling selfish but trying to enjoy every pull because this really was going to be my last cigarette.
Before I got into bed I got on my knees. I talk to God regularly but usually in the car or after I have already snuggled under the covers. I never pray on my knees. But that night I really needed help. I asked God to remove my obsession to smoke cigarettes.
And it worked.
God lifted my obsession. Or it could have been that I was vomiting so much that the thought of a cigarette was the furthest thing from my mind. Who knows? Who cares?
I have smoked since. I have smoked three cigarettes since last July. And they were disgusting. It will never be the same again. They will never taste as delicious or make me feel 'good'. They smell bad. They feel awkward in my hand. I can't inhale. My lungs hurt when I try. I have romanticized it.
My own well being was not enough for me to stop smoking. Watching my Grandmother die from years of smoking didn't scare me. Watching my Uncle Frank tote an oxygen tank around with him for years did not convince me. It was Rocco. Before we even knew he was going to be a Rocco.
So, one day when I think it is appropriate to crush my son who I am sure is going to worship me and think I can do no wrong I will let him know of my sordid past. And thank him for saving my life.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Happy Pappy's Day!
I want to take a moment to acknowledge some of the fantastic men in my life. I feel truly blessed to have such wonderful people for Rocco to grow up with and look up to.
Happy Father's Day to my Dad. Thank you for your patience and tolerance. I know it wasn't easy watching me tear through life like an unruly tornado. But I hope today you are proud of who I have become and know that you had a tremendous influence on that. Thanks for making the best scrambled eggs, checking to make sure I don't have a fever, and introducing me to Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley. Rocco is lucky to have you as a playmate.
Happy Father's Day to Kenny. "Step father" to Eric. Grandpa to Rocco. Father in law AND friend to me. Thank you for your sense of humor and lightheartedness. Something we need in our lives. We love you very much.
Happy Father's Day to the late Rocco Fortuna. I wonder if you would have liked me. I know you would have loved Rocco. We can't wait until we can tell him stories about the grandfather he was named after. Thank you for raising Eric to be a kind, loving man. He would have made you very proud.
Happy Father's Day to my brother in law, Tom. I have to acknowledge you because without you there would be no Susie. She is a sweet kid and freakishly smart. Keep up the good work.
The most important 'holiday' wish goes to my husband, Eric. Happy Father's Day to you! I knew you would be a good father but had no idea how good. It has been beautiful watching you care for and love our son. You changed your first diaper. Put clothes on a baby for the first time. And learned how to draw a perfect bath. Your hard work and dedication to this family is truly appreciated. Rocco is a happy boy. Thank you for making that possible. I couldn't do this without you. Enjoy that ugly recliner.
Happy Father's Day to all the men out there with children in their lives. You do not have to be a father to have made an impact on someones life. I hope everyone takes a moment to acknowledge the men who have shaped and set an example for them. Uncles, brothers, in laws, cousins, next door neighbors. Whoever they may be. Show some gratitude for them. Today and always.
Happy Father's Day to the late Rocco Fortuna. I wonder if you would have liked me. I know you would have loved Rocco. We can't wait until we can tell him stories about the grandfather he was named after. Thank you for raising Eric to be a kind, loving man. He would have made you very proud.
Happy Father's Day to my brother in law, Tom. I have to acknowledge you because without you there would be no Susie. She is a sweet kid and freakishly smart. Keep up the good work.
Happy Father's Day to all the men out there with children in their lives. You do not have to be a father to have made an impact on someones life. I hope everyone takes a moment to acknowledge the men who have shaped and set an example for them. Uncles, brothers, in laws, cousins, next door neighbors. Whoever they may be. Show some gratitude for them. Today and always.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
We made it...
This past week I returned to work.
Prior to taking my maternity leave I thought I would be ready to go back after a few weeks. I did not expect to want to stay home with Rocco. People told me I was going to struggle toward the end of my time off. But I did not believe them. I did not understand how much Rocco would change me emotionally. My job is important to me and my assumption was that I would be ready to jump back in. However, I started to have a melt down about a month ago. I realized I wanted my full time job to be motherhood. I no longer had interest in my paycheck. The time, money, and energy I invested in getting my masters was no longer important. I am a Mama now. This is my purpose.
The thought of spending time away from him made my chest hurt. Going to Barefoot Bunz for an hour at the gym causes severe separation anxiety. I start thinking of him halfway through any class a the gym. I don't want to miss anything. Not one coo. Not one smile. Not one seedy, mustard colored poop.
Returning to work was not a decision. I HAD to. Eric is self employed and I am the benefit carrier. Plus I have student loans to pay. Loans I took out took out so I could get the education needed to have a career. So, I took as much time as I could financially and started counting down the days.
The day I went back I broke all of my rules and ignored the routine I was desperately trying to master before my return to work. I let Rocco lay on my chest all day. He was allowed to nap there. Nurse himself to sleep. While we did all of this I whispered to him how much I love him. I told him how much Mama would miss him while she was gone. Crying on him the entire time.
When I handed him to Eric he asked why the baby was all wet.
I cried in the car on the 15 minute ride to the hospital. I swiped my badge through the time clock. I focused on my breathing on the elevator. Opened my office door. Dropped my purse on the floor. Attached my key to my hip. Made sure I had a pen. And I dove right in.
Halfway through my shift I realized that I enjoy what I do. I love counseling and case management. I enjoy working with alcoholics and drug addicts. I like my coworkers (although my Wolfpack is currently broken up) and have a great boss.
Going back to work wasn't that bad. Although the night seemed to drag on. I couldn't WAIT to get home and see Rocco even though I knew he would be in bed.
I walked in the door. Unhooked the key from my hip. Threw my bag on the floor. And sat down next to Eric to get a detailed minute by minute report about how many ounces he ate, when he had his diaper changed last, and how long he had been asleep. I was in the door about 5 minutes when I heard Rocco start to cry through the baby monitor. It was a little early for him to wake up. Maybe he knew I was finally home.
I'm exhausted. It is a challenge getting up in the morning after a night of choppy sleep. Rocco is the cutest in the morning, too. He smiles and coos. It is hard to say goodbye to him. And it is also difficult to come home, feed him, bathe him, and then put him to bed. Putting him to bed is alot of work!!!
All of the guilt, the sadness, the tears, separation anxiety....That is all about me. Rocco is fine. He is too small to know how long or how often I am gone. He gets to be with his dad when I am at work which I am tremendously grateful for. It was me I was worried about, not him. So I guess selfishness doesn't go out the window entirely when you have a baby.
Rocco and I are going to spend the next two days together. I'm so excited.
Prior to taking my maternity leave I thought I would be ready to go back after a few weeks. I did not expect to want to stay home with Rocco. People told me I was going to struggle toward the end of my time off. But I did not believe them. I did not understand how much Rocco would change me emotionally. My job is important to me and my assumption was that I would be ready to jump back in. However, I started to have a melt down about a month ago. I realized I wanted my full time job to be motherhood. I no longer had interest in my paycheck. The time, money, and energy I invested in getting my masters was no longer important. I am a Mama now. This is my purpose.
The thought of spending time away from him made my chest hurt. Going to Barefoot Bunz for an hour at the gym causes severe separation anxiety. I start thinking of him halfway through any class a the gym. I don't want to miss anything. Not one coo. Not one smile. Not one seedy, mustard colored poop.
Returning to work was not a decision. I HAD to. Eric is self employed and I am the benefit carrier. Plus I have student loans to pay. Loans I took out took out so I could get the education needed to have a career. So, I took as much time as I could financially and started counting down the days.
The day I went back I broke all of my rules and ignored the routine I was desperately trying to master before my return to work. I let Rocco lay on my chest all day. He was allowed to nap there. Nurse himself to sleep. While we did all of this I whispered to him how much I love him. I told him how much Mama would miss him while she was gone. Crying on him the entire time.
When I handed him to Eric he asked why the baby was all wet.
I cried in the car on the 15 minute ride to the hospital. I swiped my badge through the time clock. I focused on my breathing on the elevator. Opened my office door. Dropped my purse on the floor. Attached my key to my hip. Made sure I had a pen. And I dove right in.
Halfway through my shift I realized that I enjoy what I do. I love counseling and case management. I enjoy working with alcoholics and drug addicts. I like my coworkers (although my Wolfpack is currently broken up) and have a great boss.
Going back to work wasn't that bad. Although the night seemed to drag on. I couldn't WAIT to get home and see Rocco even though I knew he would be in bed.
I walked in the door. Unhooked the key from my hip. Threw my bag on the floor. And sat down next to Eric to get a detailed minute by minute report about how many ounces he ate, when he had his diaper changed last, and how long he had been asleep. I was in the door about 5 minutes when I heard Rocco start to cry through the baby monitor. It was a little early for him to wake up. Maybe he knew I was finally home.
I'm exhausted. It is a challenge getting up in the morning after a night of choppy sleep. Rocco is the cutest in the morning, too. He smiles and coos. It is hard to say goodbye to him. And it is also difficult to come home, feed him, bathe him, and then put him to bed. Putting him to bed is alot of work!!!
All of the guilt, the sadness, the tears, separation anxiety....That is all about me. Rocco is fine. He is too small to know how long or how often I am gone. He gets to be with his dad when I am at work which I am tremendously grateful for. It was me I was worried about, not him. So I guess selfishness doesn't go out the window entirely when you have a baby.
Rocco and I are going to spend the next two days together. I'm so excited.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Too Few To Mention
I'm trying very hard not to regret any of the decisions I make about raising Rocco. I do not want to set myself up to feel as though I have done something 'wrong' or that I am a bad mother. I'm a great mother. Yet there is that little voice inside my head that says I should be doing things like 'that' mother. Or how the 'book' says. Or how the OB suggested. Or the way the stranger at the grocery store did.
And what I have done is take a little from 'that' mother. The 'book'. And the bazillion other baby 'experts' out there. And I'm developing a system that works for me. More importantly one that works for Rocco. Oh, yeah. And Eric, too! (My poor husband. But that will have to be a separate blog entry.)
The best advice I have been given came from my friend, Anne. Twenty four hours after the birth of her first child, Anne told me to 'be flexible'. Nothing had gone as she had planned and it was out of her control. And for those of you who know me I'm a big fan of plans AND control.
I have been working hard on my 'flexibility'. I have had little choice in the matter. Because Anne was right. Nothing went according to plan. Not to mention that Rocco has his own agenda that takes priority over mine.
I begged for pain medication when I swore I would not.
I had a C section after 14 hours of labor. Another route I did not want to take.
I had these unrealistic notions of what I 'should' do. That there was some 'ideal' way to have a baby. That if I did not do things a certain way I would be a failure. And I felt guilty and judged as I was signing the consent for anesthesia. Like I was weak for 'throwing in the towel' and giving up on the pushing process.
Most of that guilt went away when they put him on the scale and I saw what he weighed. More of that guilt disappeared when Eric told me that the same midwife whom I thought was thinking less of me because of my request for surgery said to him that she thought the C section saved his 'wife's vagina'.
Yet still when people ask about my delivery and I tell them I had a C section it is almost as though I am telling them some shameful secret about myself. That I did not do it 'right'.
'Right' and 'wrong' leave no room for flexibility.
I do not want to second guess my decision not to 'co-sleep' with Rocco. Although 'they' say co-sleeping decreases the risk of SIDS. Most nights Rocco sleeps in his crib. On occasion I have let him sleep in our bed. That is 'flexible'. Right?
I do not want to beat myself up for giving my son formula in a bottle in addition to breastfeeding because the lactation consultant told me a baby's IQ increases by a trillion if they are exclusively breastfed for 6 months. What mother wouldn't exclusively breast feed? A mother who is throwing up and turning green while trying to nurse her enormous and starving son. That is who.
Don't even get me started on going back to work. There is no decision to be made there. I have no choice. But again, that is another blog entry!
I do not want to regret any of the decisions I have made or will make when it comes to raising Rocco to be a happy, healthy young man. He is happy and healthy now so I must be doing something right. If I have confidence in my decision no one can make me feel like I have done something 'wrong' or that I am a 'bad' mom. Because I will know otherwise.
So, I keep reminding myself to remain 'flexible'. And that is a challenge for me. But one I am willing to take on.
And what I have done is take a little from 'that' mother. The 'book'. And the bazillion other baby 'experts' out there. And I'm developing a system that works for me. More importantly one that works for Rocco. Oh, yeah. And Eric, too! (My poor husband. But that will have to be a separate blog entry.)
The best advice I have been given came from my friend, Anne. Twenty four hours after the birth of her first child, Anne told me to 'be flexible'. Nothing had gone as she had planned and it was out of her control. And for those of you who know me I'm a big fan of plans AND control.
I have been working hard on my 'flexibility'. I have had little choice in the matter. Because Anne was right. Nothing went according to plan. Not to mention that Rocco has his own agenda that takes priority over mine.
I begged for pain medication when I swore I would not.
I had a C section after 14 hours of labor. Another route I did not want to take.
I had these unrealistic notions of what I 'should' do. That there was some 'ideal' way to have a baby. That if I did not do things a certain way I would be a failure. And I felt guilty and judged as I was signing the consent for anesthesia. Like I was weak for 'throwing in the towel' and giving up on the pushing process.
Most of that guilt went away when they put him on the scale and I saw what he weighed. More of that guilt disappeared when Eric told me that the same midwife whom I thought was thinking less of me because of my request for surgery said to him that she thought the C section saved his 'wife's vagina'.
Yet still when people ask about my delivery and I tell them I had a C section it is almost as though I am telling them some shameful secret about myself. That I did not do it 'right'.
'Right' and 'wrong' leave no room for flexibility.
I do not want to second guess my decision not to 'co-sleep' with Rocco. Although 'they' say co-sleeping decreases the risk of SIDS. Most nights Rocco sleeps in his crib. On occasion I have let him sleep in our bed. That is 'flexible'. Right?
I do not want to beat myself up for giving my son formula in a bottle in addition to breastfeeding because the lactation consultant told me a baby's IQ increases by a trillion if they are exclusively breastfed for 6 months. What mother wouldn't exclusively breast feed? A mother who is throwing up and turning green while trying to nurse her enormous and starving son. That is who.
Don't even get me started on going back to work. There is no decision to be made there. I have no choice. But again, that is another blog entry!
I do not want to regret any of the decisions I have made or will make when it comes to raising Rocco to be a happy, healthy young man. He is happy and healthy now so I must be doing something right. If I have confidence in my decision no one can make me feel like I have done something 'wrong' or that I am a 'bad' mom. Because I will know otherwise.
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