What's Up Delilah?

Delilah: One Year Holy Crap Extravaganza!!

2009-10-06T04:04:00.000-07:00

Delilah,
I know that people always say it, but the time has gone so fast. I can't believe it's been a whole year since you first came into our lives. To think that a year ago I was rolling around the house like a big pregnant beached whale waiting for you to come is amazing to me. I had no idea then how you would change our lives for the better, and pretty much assumed I would be in hell until you could dress yourself and make me a margarita.

It's early, really early. I'm awake because about an hour ago you woke up out of a deep sleep just screaming. Not crying, but full on screaming. Your dad jumped up and ran to you, picked you up and did his best, but you just wouldn't calm. I took you in my arms and cradled you close and sang "O Delilah" (sung to the tune of "O Suzanna"). This is a song i've been singing since you were born, and i've never made up any words past the phrase, "oh delilah, don't you cry for me". Most of the time i just follow that up with something like "because you are a baby and i don't like it when you cry" Lyrical genius. Nevertheless, it always seems to do the trick. Sure enough you calmed down and had a bottle, and after a while of laying in bed with me, it was back to the crib.

Nights like this make me feel good because it reminds me of just how much you still need us. It's also nice to have you want me for something. These days i'm second string and your father is the main dude. You just adore him like i've never seen. He can leave the room and come back, and you get get so excited that your whole body will shake uncontrollably. It's as if everytime he leaves the room you forget you have a daddy and when he comes back it's the best gift in the world. "a daddy? For me?!"

You show absolutely ZERO interest in walking. You have yet to take one step, even on accident. I know everyone says that there's no rush, and you're only a year old, but i can't wait to see your little doll body walking around the house.

Neither your father or i can remember what we did with our time before you were born. i know that when you're a teenager i'll be trying to tell you about this whole other life i had before i had kids, but right now that part seems so unimportant. You have really changed us completely. I am amazed at how I can be tranfixed by your cuteness i can be. Everyday your father and I are just stricken by something you said or did. The fact that you talk at all is phenomenal. You can say a few words consistently, Daddy (most often), kitty, mama (once in a while), Up, Dog, and Hi. You can point to a tree, the ground, the sky, daddy, mommy and kitties. You can wave. Sometimes though you will just say things, perfectly, and in perfect context once, and never say them again. You've said "NO!" before when asked if you want more. One time I asked You pointed at the first balloon you ever saw and said "bayoon" Then you wouldn't say it again when pressed. We suspect you speak fluently and are fucking with us.

Your birthday party was a trip. We don't know many people here, since we just moved, but the few friends we have made came over and brought their kids. You were sweet and calm in the face of some babies who were seriously losing their shit. Whenever you get like this i'm always proud, but also terrified because i think, if i get overwhelmed with THIS baby, this little calm content angel from heaven, how are be going to fare against a REAL baby? one that cries all the time and is fussy and temperamental and EVIL. This is exactly how i imagine our next baby will be, because you don't get struck by lightning twice, and you are the most rare form of lightning, the kind the come from nowhere, and changes our lives forever. I can't believe you are a year old my little baby, and I can't wait to see what you have in store for us in the years to come.

Love, Mama

Year One from Lise Baker on Vimeo.

Homecoming

2009-05-27T08:45:00.001-07:00

A couple of weeks ago we traveled to Nevada on a combination business trip/wedding attendance/ family visit. A friend of mine from high school was getting married and she was kind enough to hire me for her photography.

I took some great photos, which you will not be seeing because my internet at home sucks a brick, so i can't upload them.

BUT! if you'd like to see some of the photos i took att he wedding you can go here.

Congratulations to Sarah and Jason on their beautiful wedding!

Baby Moon

2009-05-02T08:45:00.000-07:00

I just started to write a very very long and boring post about our trip up to Napa last weekend. When it started to get longer that Delilah's birth story, and about a million times more asinine, i pulled the plug and decided to start over (this time i won't bombard you with tidbits such as what we had at Denny's for breakfast).

Nic surprised me with a great weekend in Napa, and the three of us had a really nice time. We visited a few really cool winerys but couldn't do all the tours since we had Delilah (they have this rule that your kid has to be 12 and up and Robert Mondavi Vinyards. Really? Cause i think 12 year olds are waaaay more annoying than cute lil' babies.)
The first day we mostly drove around wine country, and enjoyed the view. Towards the end of the day we decided to go to a REAL CASTLE, built by REAL ITALIANS! We couldn't take Del on the castle tour, the magic arbitrary age for this winery being 5 years old. I will state again how retarded that is because have you ever been on a tour with a five year old? I have, and i might have wished harm upon those children. Anyway, the castle was nice, but the real highlight was that we discovered that Delilah loves sleeping in the sling. Loves it. Now we don't leave home without it.

Also there were lizards in the parking lot, about 100 of them darting in and around the piles of rocks on the embankment, and it reminded us of Nevada.

Later that night we decided to go out to dinner. Delilah was tired so i put her in the sling and she slept all the way through dinner (which was fantastic, the sleeping and the dinner). The restaurant was called Cuvee and it was way nicer than we had been going for, and even though I told the reservationist that we had a six month old baby with us and asked if that was a issue, I still got dirty looks from pretty much everyone in the place. You'd think that instead of eating a meal with a baby attached to my chest, I was eating a baby with a meal attached to my chest. The highlight of that night though was when a very drunk cougar from the table next to ours leaned over to look at Del sleeping and said "My baby is 13 now, and she's a BITCH. Enjoy it while they can't talk." Classy!

We spent the next day relaxing and visited a beautiful little winery called Quiote. We bought two bottles of wine from there, and the wonderful woman named Martha who gave us our private tour gave us a bottle of wine instead of charging for the tour! That winery was the best, it was filled with art and was designed by a 60's trippy architect who made sure there were no straight lines in the place. We got some really good vibes from it. If you are ever in Napa, I really recommend you call ahead and schedule and appointment. We spent the remainder of our time hanging out in a state park reading to each other. I couldn't have asked for a better first trip as a family. now that we know it's possible to leave the house without the world imploding we may be trying harder to visit friends and family.

P.S. I just tried to put our cat in the sling to see if she would like it bcause I used to carry her around in my skirt when she was a kitten. She did not like like it, but she gave me this look like, "okay, get it our of your system. Happy now? I'm going to go lick my asshole."

House Keeping!

2009-05-01T09:07:00.001-07:00

Hey guys! TGIF (god i kind of hate myself for saying that)!

Just a couple of notes, check out to the right --------->
there's a couple of new buttons for your clicking pleasure. The share this button will let you share this blog with anyone on a plethora of different social networking sites including facebook, myspace blah, blah, blah...

Of course right under that there's button just for facebook, for your convenience! If you like what you read here, please tell your friends about it!

I'll leave you with a nice peppy song to start of the weekend right, even if you have to work over the weekend, this might cheer you up.

Loves!

Cases of Gratuitous Cuteness: Caught on Film

2009-04-29T13:28:00.000-07:00

Example 1: In which our subject has a tickling problem in a local Target.

Example 2: In which bad parenting at it's finest leads to a bonked head during a bath.

Example 3: In which not even a bit of vomit can ruin a good mood.

talk amongst yourselves.

Etsy Wish List: Quilted Edition

2009-04-27T15:28:00.000-07:00

Hey guys! Today i wanted to just start a new kind of trend of sharing with you all some of the things i love that are on Etsy.com

If you don't know, Etsy is a website, where anyone can open up shop and sell their wares. Whenever possible I try to buy things from Etsy rather than picking something up from your local chain store. The prices are phenomenal and all the money goes to each individual craftsperson. Today i'm going to show y'all some of my favorite quilted items on etsy today.

Quilted Baby Shoes
I love these cute baby shoes. The sewing must have taken forever.

Quilted Grey Purse
I love the faux knit closure and the sweet quilting on this quique bag.

Quilted Coasters
There are so many different quilted coaters on etsy that I couldn't just pick one. all of these coasters make me wish i owned nice furniature that warrent using a coaster.

Leaf Coaster

Amy Butler Coaster

Tropical Quilt
The craftmenship of this quilt bakes my dome.

Quilted Clutch

Quilted Pillow
This pillow invokes the idea of pie charts, in a good way!

Well, that's it for today, let me know what you think love it? hate it? Comment!

Fallen off the earth.

2009-04-24T16:32:00.000-07:00

Why, in this age of constant communication, is it impossible for me to communicate.

I can't seem to update this blog with anything approaching regularity, and sometimes i think even twitter is too much work. (does that make me some kind of social networking retard?)

I just wanted to let everyone know that more cute baby video is on the way. once i suck it up and pull them all off of my new video camera that i bought myself for mothers day because i knew Nic wouldn't buy it for me. Consequentially, i will be getting nothing for mothers day nothing except the everlasting memories of OUR CHILD. (i'm not bitter about having to buy my own mother day gift. not at all)

So hang on to your panties.

Melodramatic

2009-04-06T10:03:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago we hit a bit of a low in the baker home. I think it was punishment for the sappy post I just wrote about how EVERYONE IS JUST SO HAPPY! On Saturday Nic came home from work really fucking late, not because he was dicking around, but because in his line of work you can't really go home until everyone else has had their pan seared ahi crusted with deliciousness. I've never waited tables at a restaurant where people had food I wanted to eat, (i'm looking at you Bubba Gumps) so I don't know how it feels to not have time for dinner because you have to serve people food that you want to eat but can't afford, but I can imagine judging from the look of cranky, cranky, doom that Nic had on his face when he came home at the ass-crack of dawn.

I had been home all day having the time of my life designing a website and brochure while trying to take care of a increasingly boredom-prone baby, so I didn't really do much picking up after her or myself. So Nic in his food-cranky state was pretty irked that the house resembled a crack den (sans crack, thankyouverymuch), especially since we've been trying to be adults and keep our house and baby clean. This change came after we had to cut tiny dreadlcoks out of Delilahs hair because while we had washed it, neither of us had combed it in some time.

Anyway, so Nic is upset and he says to me (i'm paraphrasing) "Jesus Christ woman, i'm not your maid, why don't you clean up something?" But he said it a very calm, nice way. So being the reasonable human being I am, I burst into tears. I'm not proud of what I did next. I went out into the living room where Nic was cleaning baby toys off the floor and I tried to take them out of his hands, and when he said "no i've got it", I RIPPED them out of his hands, and stormed off into our bedroom (which was kind funny because Delilahs toys don't belong into our bedroom, so where I thought I would put these toys, i don't know).

The evening really went downhill from there until I was crying about MY LIFE! and the HORRRIBLENESS OF IT ALL!! I was crying in all caps. At this point I would like to report that Nic totally forgot about the food-cranky and was fully by my side while
I was having a my break-down, but I cannot. He sat on the couch across from me giving me the "there, there (insert eye-roll here) there, there" treatment. Then he said what no man confronted with a rabid, crying woman should ever say:

"Lise, you're being melodramatic."

This is where i'd like to assure you that I didn't kill my husband this weekend. No, I simply said, "Hey, fuck you. I feel how I feel." He came over to sit next to me on the couch and said:

"Well I didn't really know what to say so I tried to think of what your mom would have said."

And I said "If you really wanted to do what my mom would have done you would have burned me with a cigarette."

The whole episode seemed so deadly serious at the time, but when I saw this this morning, It just seemed silly and trivial. Sure, my life is not perfect, but who's is? I'll just keep on keepin' on.

Funny Videos | Funny Cartoons | More Video Clips

Delilah: Month Six

2009-03-23T15:10:00.000-07:00

Delilah,

I know, I know. What the hell happened to months 4 and 5, right? Well, i wish i had a great excuse for you.

We were kinda busy, but mostly just enjoying the ride. You are just a little ball of surprises, and you make it fun to wake up everyday. You have been awesome doing new things almost daily, until we look back and say, wow when did you get so big? I'm afraid I will blink my eyes and you'll be leaving for college (or living in our basement until you are 30, whatever).

You have gotten so big, compared to where you were. You are taller than the average baby, and we have trouble
finding clothes that are long enough for your tiny torso. You are now in full blown baby mode, grabbing stuff and putting it in your mouth, and sitting under your own power. You also roll, but you aren't an ambi-roller meaning you don't roll both ways. You only roll to your right.

I feel as if the last 5 months have been a dream, and I've just woken up to find my house in shambles and all of my clothes covered in vomit. I can't help but wonder who gave YOU to US. I mean seriously, it's like giving priceless china to ogres. We just spend our days hoping we do alright, and thinking how incredibly, amazingly, improbably lucky we are to have you in our lives.

There is a scene in the Sex and the City movie (bear with me, I have a point in here somewhere) where Charlotte learns she is pregnant, and she stops doing her daily runs. When asked why she says;

"I’ve got everything I ever wanted.
I’m so happy -- I’m terrified. No one gets everything they want."

To which the reply is:

"Sweetie, you shit your pants this
year. Maybe you’re done."

My point is, I feel very similar to Charlotte in my life. I might not have a bajillions of dollars to spend on whatever kind of frivolous crap I might want (like Charlotte), But that's alright with me right now. There are things about my life that i can and will change, but we're on our way, baby. But there is always a part of me who feels like I'm just setting myself up for crushing disappointment, or sadness by loving someone as much as I love you. I suppose though that is the great dilemma of being a parent.

To be fair though this year has not been the best, you aside. There are some things that happened to us that
made me think "This is not how I imagined our life right now", to be blunt. Nic and I shit our pants this year (figuratively speaking). The last 6 months have been a crazy whirl wind and I am so tired a can barely speak. I guess the strangest thing is that when something bad happens to us, I feel almost relieved, because at least something hasn't happened to you.

It's official. You are absolutely the cutest you will ever be. I say this because when you were born I thought "This kid is cute" and then every month after that you just got exponentially cuter until now, I think if you get any cuter, my head will explode. So, for my heads sake just tone it down with the cute. I mean really. It's gotten just ridiculous.

On the development front so much has happened that it's crazy. They say all the cells in our bodies die and are replenished at such a rate that every seven years you are a totally different person, with new cells. I think that has got to be a small number for babies because you are unrecognizable from your newborn self. You love toys, and you get great satisfaction from trying to stuff them in your moth like a crazy person. You seem to have some teeth coming in, but it's too early to tell how many. You are just chewing on everything you can get your hands on, and drooling like it's going out of style (was drooling ever in style?).

You are a very happy baby and you love your bath that we bought you that looks like a trash can, but is actually a newfangled European style baby bath. You eat "solid" foods now, and so far I have come across nothing that you dislike. You area a culinary Columbus, systematically destroying and enslaving all the foods that you encounter.

True to form, you are still a very good sleeper. You will sleep 12 hours straight if we let you, although we usually have to pack you up and leave for work long before then. I'm still waiting for the parent karma to come back and for you to just stay awake for like a week straight. I think that maybe the next kid will just never sleep because there is no more, you used it all.

I almost wish I had some kind of strife to report, but aside from being very busy people, everything is very boring and happy. The cynical part of me is at this moment punching the rest of me in the face just for saying that, so i'll tell you this story:

last night as your dad and I were lying in bed I told him how it's weird but the backs of my knees feel sticky, and why would that be? Unable to speculate, your dad said "I love you.", which is code for "It's been fun but please stop talking so I can become unconscious." A went to sleep too, and as this morning i solved the mystery of the sticky knees. I appears that a number of days without showering , or showering in a hurry because you are fussing has caused me to get the same gunk behind my knees as you have in your neck rolls. We call it neck cheese. So, I guess what I'm saying is, even in spite of the knee cheese, i'm still having the time of my life.

Love,
Mama

LOLZ

2009-02-18T12:52:00.000-08:00

See all the great stuff i miss out on during the day?

This is like the 3rd or 4th time she's all out laughed, and it's amazing what kind of very unbecoming noises we will make to incite laughter like this. I think Adrienne (heard here on the vid) is doing a great job.

I'm lucky i have someone to tape these moments for me, but i can't help but wish that i didn't have to work, so i could see them first hand.

this video cracks me up.

For Nic In Taiwan

2009-02-15T08:44:00.000-08:00

Nic,

Nic, we both miss you like crazy. Delilah seems somewhat lost now, and sleeps in short spurts, but never more than 4 hours. when she wakes up and sees me she seems content, but she still looks around as if to say "Where's that daddy guy i love so much!"

I miss you to my valentines day was ok, just like any other day i guess. It rained all day, it's like the bay area is crying without you, since it has rained nonstop since the moment your plane took off. Here are some great videos of Delilah, and one of sam new trick. Delilah has a new trick too, it called grabbing stuff and putting in in her mouth.

She also can go in the bouncer now!

Sam learned how to but himself into the excersauser. I am seen here freaking out cause it loks like he's going to fall at any moment.

We went to see Spensers grandma and Delilah really liked her. Although she made me nervous because Delly kept pulling on her oxygen tube.

All in all we miss you, and we can't wait for you to come home.

Love,

Lise and Delilah.

BLEEP.

2009-02-04T10:22:00.000-08:00

We have fallen into somewhat of a routine in the Baker household. On the weekends I have Delilah and Nic has Kung Fu as his baby. It's fine by both of us since Nic is usually the default care-giver during the week, when he's not working. and Since I'm working so much i love the time i get to hang out with Delilah on the weekends. Mostly we sit on the couch and I talk to her and hold her standing on my legs, while I listen to "This American Life" streaming on the Internet. I listened to so many episodes of This American Life while I was pregnant that I think Del is instinctively soothed by Ira Glass' voice.

This weekend however, I decided to watch the last season of "Hell's Kitchen" in it's entirely. When Nic came home and saw that i was on the second to last episode of the season with the baby on my knee, he remarked that maybe it wasn't such great parenting to let Delilah watch an angry British man curse for 10 hours straight.

"When she grows up she's going to think that 'bleep' is a word." He said. I think that he imagines Delilah opening her mouth 7 months from now and saying "SHUT IT DOWN YOU BLEEPING STUPID COW!!!!" in an english accent.

While I doubt that, It got me thinking about how we emulate things that our parents did, that they never ever intended for us to emulate, and how we completely reject some things that our parents hope so much for us to emulate. I wonder what things Delilah will pick-up from us and what things we do that we have picked up from our parents without even knowing it. An are there traits that are so steadfast, that we pass them form generation to generation? Do I have mannerisms that my great great grandmother had? Just little things, like the way we tilt our head, or the subtle way we innotate out words.

More to the point, i'm thinking alot about what things I do that I dont't think about that Delilah might start doing because she sees me do it. I'm far from perfect.
I pick my nose when no one is looking, and sometimes when people are. I use this tone of voice with Nic that makes him feel condesended. I leave shit laying around the house until it gets in my way, and even then I usually don't pick it up. I procrastinate and quit projects right in the middle. I make promises to myself and don't keep them just because i'm lazy. I do the bare minimum.

Those are the things about myself that I hope I can either change soon, or Deliah skims over, doesn't get. There are more, but it tends to make feel feel bad to list them out like this. There are also things about myself too that I hope Delilah will emulate. I am empathetic, and relaxed. I give people the benfit of the doubt. I feel that in the long run, there is a silver lining-always. These are all very broad, sweeping virtues that it took me very long time to learn, and I can't imagine a child can pick up on these and emulate them with out some real life experince. The bad traits however, I belive can be picked up just by being around me and watching how I interact with those around me. Which brings me to the point i've been rambling around for this whole post. When Delilah is old enough to pick up some of our easily-emulateable bad habits, but hasn't yet had the life experience to pick up on the bigger lessons (be gracious, don't hog the converstion, treat others as you'd like to be treated), what are we left with? At one point is my child going to be a type of mirror of only our habits, even if they are bad? And if so, how will I treat her during that time? I think this is the time that many poeple refer to the awkward period in thier lives, when they are not a cute as they once were, but not yet charming and insightful as a young adult.

My question to all of you guys is, what do you do? How do you act when faced with a person who is an embodyment of all that you dislike about yourself, but is also a person whom you love more than anything? Do you feel like is was/is/will be hard to love your kid just as much when you can't stand the things they do?

Sam and Delilah

2009-01-20T12:14:00.000-08:00

Sam likes younger women.

Sam spends the days with Delilah and helps his mom watch her while we're at work. He's a great big brother. He likes to rock her in her car seat, and push her in the swing.

Sam says a few words, and one of them is "Delly", Adrienne's nick-name for Delilah. When she isn't there Sam will say "Delly?" and go to her bassinet to look for her. I can't wait until she's old enough to play with him, I know he'll lookout for her.

i just hope Sams other girlfriends don't beat her up (he's quite a catch!)

Delilah: Month Three

2009-01-15T13:13:00.000-08:00

Delilah,

You are three months old now. You get more fiery and willful everyday. You have definite preferences and dislikes, and they change daily. One day you refused to be burped on our shoulders and needed to be burped sitting on a knee. Now if we try to put you on our knee you freak out and refuse to bend at the waist, making your body so straight and rigid that we are forced to heft you onto one shoulder to coax a burp out of you.

You are the best sleeper. I can count on one hand all the nights you have woken us up to eat. almost every day now it is us who wake you up, with the sound of the shower in the morning. even then most of the time you just want to be taken to lay in bed with daddy and doze for a little longer while you eat your breakfast.

I'm sorry about waking you up, it's just that I went back to work this month. I didn't expect to go back full time at all and not nearly so soon, but life happens and we are doing what needs to be done. your dad is working full time now too, and you spend your days with my friend Adrienne (that's auntie Adrienne to you, little miss!) who you think is pretty rad. She has a 13 month old son named Sam who has taken to you like a moth to flame. Mostly he just strokes your hair and rocks you in your car-seat, but when he gets excited he's not above giving you a good poke in the eyes or mouth, and maybe a good whack on the scull, so Adrienne has her hands full during the day.

You have gotten markedly more vocal in the last few weeks. Before this, you were either quiet and reflective, or crying for something. You seem to have discovered the joy of conversation because truly, if I ask you how your day was, you babble back at me, making such a variety of noises that I could swear you are speaking fluently-just in a language I've never heard.

spending so much time away from you has been hard for me and your father. Sometimes i come home from work and you're fast asleep, and i know that even if you wake up to be fed, you'll go to sleep for the night soon, and I won't really see you again until morning. I worry that you will forget about your mama. But then, in the morning when i poke my head into your crib to say hello you look at me and a recognition breaks out onto your face, and you smile at me so big. No funny faces, no silly noises. You just smile because I came to you, and that makes me think that you missed me almost as much as I missed you.

Love,
Mama

Attention all Lurkers

2009-01-08T15:41:00.000-08:00

Lurkers: Those who read or follow a blog or chat room, but never contribute by posting or commenting.

Either no one reads this, or you are all dirty lurkers. I have recently fixed the commenting problem, so now you have no excuse. Comment people!

Ducky Confusion

2009-01-06T13:28:00.000-08:00

I’m not writing to Delilah this time. No longer can I trust the judgment o my infant. Instead, I have to use this space as a personal log.

Delilah and Ducky have gotten closer. Using our camera, I have been openly spying on my child as she interacts with her amorphous yellow friend. From my vantage point on the couch I have been shocked by my daughter’s open displays of affection for the Anatidae persuasion.

Girl crushes are a given, from what I hear. I knew after the second ultrasound that I would be finding new and creative ways to frighten my daughter’s boyfriends into fleeing the country, but I thought I had at least a decade and a half before I had to start brainstorming. Clearly, growth hormones snuck into cattle food, genetically engineered soy products, poorly washed vegetables or countless other reasons have contributed to Delilah’s abnormal early onset maturity.

She was making out with the duck. Clear as day: tongue to beak contact. She had her lips wrapped around Ducky’s bill! This is several orders of magnitude more severe than I originally thought. Ducky is a bad egg (not a pun I swear) and he- um… or she? It… is stealing my darling baby girl away from me.

Speaking of which, is Ducky male or female? I have never had to check the gender of a stuffed animal. If Ducky is female, does that mean Delilah is a budding lesbian? I would be okay with that, and for sure she would have enough support in the Bay Area. Would she be a lipstick lesbian or one of the Dykes on Bikes? Sure, we have been dressing Delilah in lots of boy clothes, but we have tons of hand me downs, and would that make a difference?

What if the constant barrage of, “What a cute little boy!” from strangers in Target has begun to convince Delilah that she identifies as a boy? Would she continue to identify if we gave her soldier toys and muscle cars, football jerseys and boxer briefs? Perhaps she wouldn’t even realize she was a girl until that awkward junior high phase when her pecs suddenly get perky.

This is all assuming Ducky is female. If Ducky is male, then it makes everything just fine.

Wait a minute, no it doesn’t. Delilah was making out with a duck! That’s illegal in most states!

Seeing as how Delilah is about a year away from speaking, I need to find out more about Ducky.

Bad Influences

2009-01-06T11:58:00.001-08:00

Hi kid.

I’m concerned about the choices you have made in friends. Well, one friend in particular. The entire relationship just seems unhealthy.

It’s Ducky. Ducky is constantly hovering above you, staring into your eyes, whispering into your ear. You stare at Ducky as if you were being… hypnotized. Sure, Ducky has no more body structure than an amoeba, appears to have crinkly flower petals for a neck, is always smiling (sure sign of a con artist), and, most disturbingly of all, has a head that peels back to reveal a mirror in the middle of the neck. I know. I have checked while Ducky sleeps. It’s. Just. Not. Natural.

Plus Ducky is always hanging out in what I call the Ring Jungle, that plastic forest of rings hanging like so many vines above your head while you lay on the Western themed tummy time mat.

By the way, why the hell would a chicken wear cowboy boots?

Nothing that lives in the Ring Jungle is good. Bunch of No-Goodnicks. Besides Ducky, there’s the mirror, which warps how you view reality at a time when you are forming your views on reality. Red ribbon strands hang down like so many ladies of the night tempting rich white men in some dimly lit Amsterdam alley. Covering every surface are wacky designs created by some community college psychology major tripping on acid. And dare I even mention that other thing, which I can only label by what it most closely resembles, Smiling Fibrous Tumor With A Bow Tie?

Even our cat Plinko has taken to sleeping on the edge of the mat, and anything Plinko takes a liking to sets you on a road to drug use and/or prison. You know Plinko, ten pounds of hairy meat that meows whenever it craves the very crunchy food pellets that exacerbate its feline obesity.

All I am asking, Kid, is that you carefully judge your friends, and if they are a positive influence, then appreciate them. If they are a negative influence, then let Daddy either throw them away or see how flammable they are on the stovetop.

Baby Armageddon?

2009-01-03T22:42:00.000-08:00

So Del has a cold. In my mind I imagined her having some sort of superhuman immune system that could withstand any invasion, but alas, I was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

Okok it isn't that bad. As long as she is upright she is smiley and happy. That whole laying down and sleeping thing doesn't work so well, but do babies really need any of that? Everyone is a parenting critic.

I feel her pain. Sometimes you wake up and just gotta eat, blow your nose, and take a shit, all at the exact same time. I would scream at the top of my lungs too.

I wish they made aspirators for adults. I really really want one. It would be like a beach ball and a tire pump made sweet sweet love, and their progeny was delighted to suck the snot out of my nose.

The world is a cold and terrible place.

2009-01-03T05:54:00.000-08:00

Delilah is getting over a cold. Instead of waking up to the smiling baby we know and love our days were spent looking at this pitiful face:

She was all snotty and having a hard time breathing through her nose, so we had to suck out all her snot every couple of hours. At first she hated it and would throw her head back and forth, but after a while it seemed like she connected the aspirator with the relief of being able to breathe again.

Even though she's sick she has still been delightful. Hour for hour she has been more smiles that ever before. It's as if because she is sick she really appreciates the time that she feels good. She used to smile just a few times a day, but now it seems like whenever she's not hungry or wet she's a happy baby.

Breaks my heart.

Grandparents Visit for Christmas

2008-12-23T18:04:00.001-08:00

Hey Del,

As your various "grandparents" come in to visit, I should give you a heads up about a few things.
You might seem to have several hundred friggin grandparents, but at the moment you have only two living biological grandparents. Hella confusing, I know.

Your Granddad Baker is my Dad. He is the one that looks and sounds like a grizzly bear (not a San Francisco Bear, that is something completely different). He likes pirates, and Daddy is about to kick his ass at Wii Bowling.

Your Grandma is my Mom. She is the one who is crazy about cleaning and talks to you as if you were some sort of baby or something. You'll get used to her. Plus, her chocolate eclair pie is bomb.

The rest are a motley crew, I know.

Grandpa Daniels is the wacky bearded guy that says, "Howdyhowdy" all the time and has the tattoos. He is your step-grandpa. Or your Exstepgrandfather-in-law, depending on the point of view. I'm waiting until you can do algebra at least before I try to explain that one. All you need to know now though is that he is your Grandpa too. Sissy is Grandpa Daniels' wife.

Partner is Grandma's husband, my stepfather. I wanted you to call him Grandpappy Ronny, but he insisted on Partner. Yes, he bought you a Barbie fishing pole and a tiny pink toy rifle for your first Christmas. Yes, he looks like Grandpa Daniels. Yes, he is also named Ron, just like Grandpa Daniels. Yes, Great Grandpa Daniels, Great Grandpa Beckett, and Great Grandpa Urbon are all also named Ron. We almost named you Ron, so feel lucky. When you are older, Partner will teach you how to kill wildlife with your bare hands, whether your mother and I like it or not.

You might be wondering where Mom's parents are. Both are gone already, but you will hear all about them. Grandma Watkins was one of the toughest women I have ever met, and you will read all about your Grandpa Watkins in all the newspaper clippings your Grandma Watkins put together before she died.

We'll have plenty of time to explain to you how you are related to all these people (and we may need it) but suffice it to say, you will get a ton of presents for Christmas every year.

Hope that clears it up a bit.

Daddy.

Delilah Meets Santa

2008-12-22T23:45:00.000-08:00

Today Delilah got her picture taken with Santa Claus. We went to a lesser known Santa on 4th street in Berkeley who will let you take pictures for free. They also have a giving tree where you can give socks and books for needy kids. Delilah did well with he scary bearded man, she didn't cry at all.

We think that's because we spent the last four days just handing her to random bearded homeless men.

Daddy's 2nd Month

2008-12-22T17:29:00.000-08:00

Hey kid. So, two months old now.

You are starting to pass that crying lump of flesh phase and actually get cute now. It sounds sappy, but you seem to be cuter every day. You smile, then you wiggle, then you pick up your head to look at one of us. Then you up the cute ante and roll over and coo. A whole bag of sappiness, geez.

I try not to use your cuteness for evil. You have this influence over people though that makes it tempting… I was carrying you at Costco the other day and everyone we passed would stop and comment on you, even people with babies would say you are the cutest thing they have ever seen. I could see you staring down those other babies triumphantly, telling them in whatever crazy baby mind meld psychic thing you all use to communicate, “BOW DOWN BEFORE ME OTHER BABIES FOR YOUR MASTER HATH ARRIVED! FEAR MY UTTER ADORABLENESS! IS ADORABLENESS AN ACTUAL WORD? IT MIGHT NOT BE I DO NOT KNOW ANY WORDS YET!”

Even the broccoli we bought at Costco seemed to go “Aww, just look at that baby. NO DON’T EAT ME AAAARGH”

You also seem to have superhuman strength. Wait, scratch that; superbaby strength. You can hold your head up, prop your upper body up with your arms, and look around. You are mastering rolling over from your stomach to your back, and have rolled over from back to stomach at least a couple of times. You like being supported while you sit upright and will probably be doing that on your own in not too long. Did someone slip bovine growth hormone into your milk or something? I should get you tested to make sure you aren’t using steroids behind our backs.Seriously though, Delilah, if this is non-steroidal strength, then I will have you doing crunches and pushups by four months, and by eight months you should be able to kick the heavy bag hard enough to put a dent in it.

Love,
Daddy

Mommy's Second Month

2008-12-19T18:21:00.000-08:00

Hey Kiddo,

So, you're over two months old as write this, and let me tell you that second month was a blast!!

Things you learned to do this month:

hold your head up while on your tummy
smile at us
roll over both ways
grasp things (with some help from us)
play with dangling toys

It has been so cool to see you go from a needy, angry blob to a real baby. You get cute in the mornings, usually when you first wake up, but sometimes after you've been awake for hours. You smile at us and coo, and try to laugh, which sounds like some kind of fake cough. I guess you're just learning that, too. I made a video of your happy time, but it's apparent to me that the star of the video is not your monumental cuteness, but your father and I, who are blubbering idiots. We're making more baby sounds than you are, and you seem somewhat perturbed by this.

Taking care of you has gotten to be so much easier in this last month. For a while there I had resigned myself to being frazzled and unshowered for the rest of my life. You have gotten to the point where you can entertain yourself for short periods of time, and the freedom I feel is exhilarating. I can almost remember what my life was like before you were born.

Not only are you capable of self-entertainment, most of the time you seem to prefer it. About a month ago you had a horrible crying jag while I was home alone with you. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what the hell you wanted. you had been changed, dried, wrapped, undressed, fed, burped, and held every which way I could imagine. Nothing made you happy. Then, at the end of my rope, set you in your crib with the intention of running a bath, and I turned on your mobile. I went into the bathroom when suddenly I heard something strange emanating from your crib. What is that sound? SILENCE. I ran back to your room, assuming you had surely died, but when I got there you were laying angelically starting at your mobile, transfixed. That was the first time i realized that maybe laying on the same spot on the floor was just as boring to you as it was to me.

Ever since then you've been all about checking things out. When we carry you in a carrier, you demand to be facing out, as if it were you who was doing the walking. Sometimes you fall asleep, but mostly you hold your own head up and just look around. You look like a huge bobblehead.

Just as often, you just want to be left alone. When you've been out and about all day sometimes all you want is for us to put you in your crib, dim the lights and go the hell away. You're pretty independent for a baby, you never sleep on me anymore much preferring the flat surface of the floor or your play mat.

Your play mat is another thing entirely. You love it so much that when I had to wash it because it was crusted and stiff with baby puke, it was as if we had chopped off your arm. You'd think those dandling toys dispensed Belgian beer by how enthralled you are with them.

Another huge thing is your sleep. You sleep like it's an Olympic sport. You sleep through the night entirely about 4 nights a week, and on the other nights you get up only once, eat and then fall back to sleep. Thank you.

All in all I had so much more fun with you this month than last month. You're really starting to develop a personality, and you're so charming. About a 2 weeks ago I went to your crib to get you after you slept for 7 straight hours, and you didn't even cry when I came to pick you up. As soon as you saw me you just smiled so big, like you knew who I was and you were happy to see me.seeing you little face light up made getting up at 6:30 on a Sunday seem like sleeping in until 10 on a Monday.

I love you,
Mommy

Daddy's First Month

2008-11-22T23:29:00.000-08:00

Hey Kid,

So you are almost 2 months old now, so yeah. You probably won't remember this time, and that's probably for the best, because it's pretty dull for you. You sleep about 20 hours a day, in two hour chunks. Your awake time is filled with eating, crying so we will feed you, and dropping the most monumental poops I have ever seen. You poop more than me and you are the size of my forearm.

I never thought I would be so interested in the contents of another person's poop. I carefully logged each and every one, time, color, and consistency, for the first week. I became a poop seer, seeing many things in your diaper.

Your early days mostly scared the crap out of us because you would start choking on amniotic fluid (day 1) or crying inconsolably (day 1-present), or some other weird thing like what we thought were blood spots when you peed that turned out to be crystallized bilirubin that you peed out. That got you checked into the hospital, by the way. You had infant jaundice like a little sailor (wait that's scurvy) and you got to spend a day and a night inside a tanning booth box with infant goggles on.

I was afraid to pick you up when you were first born because I was afraid all your limbs would fall off like one of those plastic Cooties game creatures.

You gained 3 ounces a day in weight for a few days, which is crazy. You kept your full head of hair. You have hairy little shoulders, which I hope for your sake sorts itself out. You held your head up from day 1, and instead of not doing it for a while you kept holding your head up and now have a burly little neck that supports a head that loves to look around. You hate tummy time, so we will see about this whole crawling thing.

Our cats, Pandora and Plinko, were an X factor. How would they react to you? Everything we bought for you turned into a cat bed from the changing table to the bottles. Now, almost 2 months in, Pandora barely acknowledges you exist, and I think it's because she is jealous that you get all the lap time. Plinko is scared, but not as much as we thought she would be, and she has gained a taste for baby formula that I attribute to you puking in the bathtub and Plinko licking it up later. Weird friggin' cat.

So, for your future reference when or if you decide to have a child, sleep does not exist in any form past 3 hour stretches once you give birth. If anyone tells you otherwise, slap them.

You are a blast. Best toy ever. Well, when you are calm and awake that is. By the way, you are a chick magnet. I cuddle you in public and women act all weird. You probably won't enjoy reading that bit, now that I think about it.

Well, by two months I plan to have you doing pushups and breaking boards with your forehead, so I had better wake you to train.

Daddy's Birth Story

2008-11-22T20:35:00.000-08:00

First let me start out by saying this: I had no idea what labor was going to be like. Not that it was going to happen to me, per se, but all I had to go on was snippets of movies where 1. the water breaks to let you know labor began, 2. cut to frantic drive to hospital (running red lights, narrow pedestrian escapes), and 3. brief, intense screaming session where the father vows off sex for the rest of his life.

That is all I had to go on.

Because I am horrible at reading baby books.

So imagine my surprise when I find out all about these other things that happen and how they are labeled with the most disgusting possible names. Amniotic Sac? Eww. Bloody Show? Ugh. MUCOUS PLUG? WTF

So we did hypnobirthing, which sounds eccentric but isn't. Basically deep breathing to deal with the pain of labor. A nice thing hypnobirthists (sp?) do is rename things better. Bloody Show is the birth show. Contractions are Surges, or pressure waves. Mucous plug is a rainbow sunshine toilet surprise.

From the start, neither I nor your mother knew how to tell when labor was starting. We didn't want to be those people who get all excited, think it's time, rush to the hospital holding hands, and get told it is fake labor. We were very careful to not be those people. We scoured mankind's collective knowledge (Google) and talked to all the mothers we knew. Lise read the baby books. We knew everything to look for. We would not be those false labor people.

Then it was time. We didn't have to guess, we just knew. Contractions were coming, spaced evenly, and we got all excited. We rushed to the hospital, hand in hand.

We were sent home. False labor. Sigh. The nurse told us we would know when the time came, whatever that means.

Cut to several days later. October 9, 2008. I was at work, in a new job in a wine and cheese shop, a little part time gig. I was closing the place solo, and it was about 8:30pm, when I called Lise.

"COME HOME NOW," she said. She said it all in capital letters, too. I tried to not get that excited because we had just done that whole false labor thing, and this was probably just more of it. Baby Delilah saying, "Okay I'm coming! Oops just kidding SUCKA."

I got home and Lise told me all the gory details about how she had her Rainbow Sunshine Toilet Surprise fall out at about 4pm, not long after I had left, and immediately after that the contractions she had ben feeling for days got much stronger. We decided to wait and time the contractions a bit. After timing them for a while and seeing that they were quite close together and very regular, we called up the hospital and told them we were headed in.

So the car ride was INSANE. I was so nervous that I could barely see! I was speeding and running red lights, and soon the cops were trying to pull us over, but we couldn't stop because Lise was SCREAMING in agony and WHITE KNUCKLING the car seat! At one point I jumped the car through the open double doors of a MOVING TRAIN and escaped our pursuit, drove through an outdoor restaurant, sending patrons scattering IN FEAR FOR THEIR LIVES, and right through that pile of crates full of chickens! By this time my windshield was covered in wine and chicken feathers so I couldn't see enough to avoid the stack of watermelons or the huge piece of plate glass being carried by those two men. Covered in broken glass, watermelon, chicken feathers, and wine, with four popped tires long shredded off and driving on the sparking rims, we made it to the hospital with barely a second to spare. That baby was almost cutting its own cord!

Ok, ok, that's not how it went. The car ride was suprisingly uneventful, with both of us calmly riding all the way to the hospital without a speck of traffic to slow us down. Feel free to just believe the other version if it makes you feel better.

We get there and get checked in, and the nurses were rather nonchalant, as if Lise's calmness meant she wasn't in real labor. Lise and I were sure by this point that there was no going back home. Lise was handling the contractions like a pro, just closing here eyes when they hit and relaxing, so both of us were kind of like, hey how bad can it be?

The nurse opened the door to the triage room we were supposed to be in and we heard the wretched, racking sobs of a woman. A concerned father-to-be glanced at us from inside. The nurse closed the door and cheerfully said, "Oh, they should be out already. I'll give them a moment then move them along for ya!" Then she said with a smile, "No other rooms available, typical UCSF style!" which was about the least comforting thing she could say. Meanwhile the wails could be heard through the door into the hall where we waited. We asked what the woman was crying about (miscarriage? death in the family? five days to live?) and found out she was just starting labor. Whoa.

We got into the triage room next door after that strangely cheerful nurse tried unsuccessfully to boot them out, which turned out for the best because I would have felt horrible to know they had been evicted and we were in their room. They hooked up all the monitors and stuff, and the baby was doing fine. We could hear sobs through the wall.

At this point, I must write about the second greatest thing ever (second to the birth and all that). When Lise got up to go to the bathroom I accompanied her and spied in an unoccupied triage room a woman standing in front of what appeared to be a large cooking pot and some bread. I asked what she had going on in there and was invited to have a bowl of the best chicken curry ever, with gobs of butter slathered on bread on the side. When Lise emerged from the bathroom I was elbow deep in curry and ten times happier. What a great hospital.

Shortly thereafter came the time of truth: was Lise in real labor or not? The doctor came in to check. The news? Dilated 4cm! Woohoo we were in. The baby was actually on the way.

We were moved to the Birthing Suite, or as I like to call it the Birthing SWEET. It was like 4000 square feet with what appered to be a wall of nothing but mirrors. Couches, rocking chairs, lovely country town-home decor, a bathroom with an actual bath, this was heaven.

Lise settled in and from here on out was the long haul. We had no idea how long it would take, or what to expect. By this time it was probably 12:30 or so. We had gotten to the hospital at 11:00pm. Lise's contractions were getting to the point where she couldn't talk or walk during them, only lay there like a narcoleptic.

We tried a few different sitting positions, and Lise even got into the bath to help her relax. The best position, squatting on a birthing ball (which would be called an exercise ball in any place other than a Birthing Sweet) didn't work because all the monitors would freak out when she sat in that position.

Overall this was a calm time. We would chat inbetween contractions, and then Lise would appear to fall asleep midsentence and I would see a contraction peaking on the monitor. About halfway through the night they came in to check on Lise and she was at 6cm. Moving along fine.

Rather than try to explain how calm Lise was on the outside, I will just mention the nurse that came in sometime later during a shift change to try and talk to Lise. Lise did her narcoleptic mid-sentence thing as she was talking to the nurse, and the nurse turned to me and said, "Aw, I am sure she will start active labor soon." Then, after I rewarded the nurse with a long second of awkward silence, she looked at the monitor and saw it full of contractions coming almost continuously. I saw her jaw drop open slightly, and she said, "Oh, it looks like you ARE in active labor. Wow, she is handling this very well." Lise: 1 Contractions: 0.

I was starting to feel pretty tired after a while. I did not want to go to sleep, but I did sit down. At one point Lise woke up from a contraction and this is what our conversation went like:

Lise: I think I'm gonna puke.
Me: Do you need anything? Can I get you-
Lise: IM GOING TO PUKE GET ME SOMETHING

I ran in a complete circle, then to the bathroom and grabbed the BIOHAZARD trash can and ran back to Lise, who promptly projectile vomited into the trashcan. I have never seen anything like that, and I've seen some pretty crazy things. It was like FOOSH. I told the nurse about it, who said it was a good thing. Labor is weird.

I tried to eat a sandwich about an hour later, and Lise woke up and told me the smell made her nauseous, and how could I eat that when she had just puked? After this was all over, Lise told me she thought that the time between her puking and my sandwiching was mere minutes when it had actually been an hour.

By this point I was no longer sitting, but standing next to Lise the entire time, only leaving her side to replace the cool, damp rag on her forehead.

Seven o'clock rolled around. The wall of mirrors turned out to be a wall of windows and I got to watch the sun rise over the city from Golden Gate Park all the way past Golden Gate Bridge. Lise woke up from her meditative state somewhere in there and I think she thought she was someplace else. I am sure she didn't think she had been in labor all night long. Our nurse came in to check on Lise's progress. 9+cm! and totally effaced! and the Amniotic Sac was bulging out! (I imagine one of those tiny toy rubber skulls that you squeeze and their eyes bulge out and have fake blood and stuff but there's a baby inside) (I'm pretty sure that's not what it looked like.) (I really hope that's not what it looked like.) The nurse said the Sac should pop anytime, and the pushing would start in 15 minutes, or certainly no more than an hour!

Shift change happened for all the nurses just then. I only mention this because our nurse was awesome, and the nurse that replaced her was also awesome, but her level of awesome-ness was significantly lower than the first.

So, knowing that this was almost over, with both of us exhausted (her much more than me, for sure) we looked forward to the climax of this whole thing. Any minute now.

Eight o'clock rolled by.

Nine o'clock happened.

At 10am I asked Lise if she felt like pushing. She said no. Then she had a more intense contraction (a few that actually caused her to cry out had just begun to happen). I asked her again, and she said that she didn't want to push (the nurses told her not to yet) but she couldn't help it. I sumoned the nurses. Still no water breakage by the way.

By pleasant surprise our midwife entered the room and performed the check. She announced that all was good and it was finally time to push! I was so happy because in my naiivete, I thought this would be over in like 20 minutes.

The pushing began. Suddenly there was more intense pain for Lise, to the point that I have never, ever seen her scream, strain, or make faces like that before. It frightened me to the point where I was tearing up a little. I did not like seeing my baby like this.

Also, our new nurse brought in a male nurse in training who looked like he was born to be a bouncer but had fallen asleep and woken up in nursing school.

Lise labored and pushed and, by some freak oversight of nature and pregnancy books, nobody tells you how to push a baby out, and pushing properly actually takes skill. Lise was pushing and pushing, but nothing major (like a baby popping out) seemed to be happening.

Two hours in, our friend Adrienne showed up to join me and the bouncer at the head of the bed giving Lise encouragement.

More pushing. The nurse asked Lise if she wanted a popsicle. Through tears and clenched teeth, Lise said, "Yes!" The nurse asked what flavor and Lise cried, "I don't care!" The Bouncer said he would go get her a grape popsicle, and Lise said, "Not grape!"

Adrienne and I kept a constant flow of cool, wet towels on Lise's forehead as the pushing continued. Lise tried every position possible, and started to get progress in a squatting position.

Lise, at some point, said, "This baby better be cute."

I can't do the pushing time justice though. It was frickin' intense. This was no 'scream and the baby pops out' this was an all out body fluid, grunt, and grip it push-fest. Television and movies would not be able to show this, not even on Showtime.

By hour four, Lise had an audience of at least three non-essential nurses who were just watching in awe. Lise had been offered the epidural and vaccuum assist delivery and turned it down, because neither she nor the baby were in any trouble, and she was pushing the baby out slowly. From my vantage point with the Bouncer, holding Lise's legs up, we could see the baby's head, or at least an inch-wide sliver of it. The nurse had attached a thing to the baby's head to monitor the heartbeat even. Crazy. Each time Lise pushed, the head would come out a little more, then each time she stopped pushing it would go right back. No progress.

At hour five the baby's heartbeat started dropping. This was not a good thing. Doctors rushed in and said they had to do the vaccuum assist because a dropping heartrate was bad news. No time for an epidural, only a local. About twenty people rushed in. Local, epesiotomy, vacuum attached to baby's head. They told Lise to push and she pushed and pushed and pushed. Baby wasn't out. My view was limited because I was at Lise's head, trying my best to do the only thing I could do, which was urge her on and tell her she was doing good. The doctors told her one more push, and it had to be this one. Lise's contractions suddenly ended just then. They told her she needed to push. Lise pushed and pushed and then I see this thing, about four times bigger than I expected it to be, come out of Lise. It was our baby! I was in shock. I could only think, I am so happy the baby came out. Then the baby started crying, and so did I, and I felt this huge wave of relief. I think I was just kissing Lise's forehead over and over or something when the nurses asked if I wanted to see my daughter. I did not want to leave Lise, but I went over and saw this thing that weighed six pounds, four ounces and cried and had a full head of hair and blinked with deep blue eyes. It wasn't cute or pretty, but in my eyes it was beautiful.

Until the nurses asked if I wanted to hold her did I even realized that it belonged to me and I could do more than just stare at it with as much confusion as it was staring at me. The nurse asked what her name was. I told her the name we had picked out: Delilah Claire Baker. The nurse probably said that the name was beautiful but I didn't hear her as I picked up the bundle and stared. I looked back to Lise, who was in bed being attended to by a doctor with a sewing needle. I went back to Lise and Delilah was flopped onto her chest and we all cried. Thankfully Adrienne was good enough to take tons of pictures, because I was in no shape to.

The room emptied out pretty quick after that, and soon there was just Lise, Adrienne, Delilah and I left to figure out what had just happened. I was in shock, but not to the point where I couldn't eat both the breakfast and lunch that had been dropped off earlier that day.

That is my birth story.

Delilah's First Month

2008-11-20T21:10:00.000-08:00

Delilah,
I'd like to write a letter to you every month. This will hopefully be something that happens on the 10th of every month, although if I know me (and I do) we'll be lucky if it happens at all during the month in question. For example, I'm just now writing this, and you are almost two months old.

Just that in it's self I can't believe. Time has been so strange since we brought you home. Your father and I can never seem to figure out what day it is, and I feel like there's no way you could be one month old, and also that you have been with us forever.

I always hear parents saying (mine included) that babies come out intact with their own little personalities, but I have to say I didn't see it. With you, all I saw when you were just born was a tiny baby. Your personality is hiding right now, and you only give us glimpses every once in a while. I like to think that it was just that I was so tired from labor that I didn't see your personality, but really I think maybe you were tired too.

I always imagined my baby looking at me in wonder in those first few moments. When I held you in my arms though, you fell asleep so fast it's amazing. I suppose that is a compliment in and of it's self. I didn't even get to see your pretty eyes for almost an hour.

Your eyes are something. You dad and I have our fingers crosses that they will stay the color they are now. They are a deep steel blue, and so bright. Since I have brown eyes and your dad has light blue eyes, we're thinking they might stay. I can't believe your hair. There's so much of it! For some reason you managed to surprise me, but I don't know why. You are as perfect of a mixture between your dad and I as I could have imagined. Part of me expected you to throw in some kind of wild card, like red hair, or green eyes. I'm not complaining though, you are the most perfect thing i have ever seen.

You are such a wonderful little baby. You are so strong and smart. You started holding your head up from day one, and by the time you were a month old, you could hold up you own head most of the time. You just learn physically so fast, you made eye contact with us when you were a week old, and by two weeks you were following us with your eyes as we walked across the room. We're working on getting you to hold your head up while laying on you stomach, but you hate tummy time with a passion (unless you are sleeping on our chests, which you love.)

So far you have met your grandma Urbon, both you aunties, and your grandpa Daniels. You have not yet met your grandpa Baker, or your Grandpa Beckett, who wishes to be called "Partner". I know all of this is confusing. I apologize for the strange ratio of grandmas to grandpas, only one of whom shares a last name with either of your parents. This is what happens when people die or divorce. Both of my biological parents have passed away, my father when I was 5. Your grandpa Daniels is my step father who raised me for most of my life. Conversely, your grandpa Beckett, or "Partner" has been your fathers step-father since he was in high school. The fact that both these men have beards and are named Ron will no doubt be a source of extreme confusion for you as you grow up.

Biologically you have two grandparents, both are your dads parents. You'll be happy to know though that as of now you have an abundance of great grandparents. you have four great grandmothers, and two step great grandmothers. You also have two great grandfathers. You even have a great-great grandmother on you fathers side. We make very healthy women in our family.

Being a new mom is harder than I could have ever imagined. You are just so demanding, and you give nothing in return. The first few weeks were the worst. There were nights where you would wake me up to breastfeed and i would have just fallen asleep. Your father and I both had dreams that you were in the bed with us, and we would wake up in the middle of the night looking through the blankets for your tiny body. It got so bad that sleep became less rest and more stress. Sometimes I woke up next to the crib with no memory of getting there. On more than one occasion I cried as I nursed you out of fatigue and a sadness I didn't understand. In the middle of the night the responsibility of caring for you felt like it was all my own, and I felt hopeless and alone.

On nights like these your father woke up and, even though he couldn't feed you, he talked with me and once you had your fill he took you, walked me to bed, and rocked you to sleep. Without him I don't know what I would have done. I'm not telling you this to make you feel guilty. In fact I never blamed you for being a hungry baby, and I never once regretted having you, even when I wished I could hand you off to someone else and go to sleep. I'm telling you this because someday you might have your own children and I want you to know that feeling like this does not make you a bad mom, and that when the sun comes up after a few hours of sleep, usually it's all right again.

Love,
Mama

Delilah's Birth Story

2008-11-19T21:17:00.000-08:00

For Nic and I, the most frustrating part of waiting for a baby was how to tell if I was in labor. About a week before my due date I started having contractions while out to dinner with friends. They were mild, and weren't bothering me, so I just noted the time at their start and kept eating. These contractions were ten minutes apart. Over the next few days I kept having contractions until they were five minutes apart. The weren't really strong, in fact they were just somewhat annoying, but Nic and I decided to play it safe and go onto the hospital anyway. The Tuesday before my due date we payed a visit to the maternity ward at UCSF Medical Center in San Francisco. After a quick check, my midwife checked my cervix (holy crap oh my god that hurts stop stop stop OK seriously STOP). Turns out I was all of zero percent dilated and whopping ZERO percent effaced. No wonder.

Dejected, we meandered home to lay in bed and watch episodes of The Daily Show. The contractions did not stop however and our days were spent furiously googling things like "bloody show" "mucous plug" and "what does labor feel like" I could not believe that with all our newfangled medical hocus pocus, science still does not know what triggers labor, and how to tell if you are really in labor.

All our dedicated googling payed off the night of the 9th, the day before my due date. Nic went to work and I stayed at home home having contractions. At about 3:30 I decided to get into the bath tub to help keep my mind off the weirdly intense contractions. I found myself closing my eyes at the start of a contraction and using the breathing techniques my Hypnobirthing instructor had taught me. After about an hour of this the thought occurred to me that I probably was in actual labor. I thought about calling Nic and telling him to come home, but I figured that I had plenty of time before we would need to leave for the hospital, and I was doing fine so I just waited till he got off at 8:30.

When Nic came home he saw what appeared to be his wife sleeping in the bath tub. My training had taught me to remain completely relaxed during a contraction, and once one would hit I would go into a state that was easy to mistake for sleeping. I told him what was going on, and he helped me out of the tub. I got dressed an decided to labor in bed for a while. Things started getting pretty intense around ten, so we called the hospital and told them we were on our way. At this point I was no longer able or willing to speak or walk during a contraction, so I was really confident were were in the real thing. We just hoped I was far enough along that they would admit us.

We pulled up to the hospital and I got out to walk in. A contraction hit after a few feet and I had to stop and lean against the hospital wall. Having pity on my a security guard went inside and got me a wheel chair. Nic grabbed all the bags he had packed- like 25 goddam bags, full of food and cameras and who knows what. He told me that he brought a bag because last time we were there he saw another father with his wife and that guy had bags. Go figure.

Once we got to the front desk it was about 11pm. I had been in active labor for around 8 hours. There was an issue first in finding a room for us for triage. I didn't mind sharing a room, just until they determined if i would be admitted, but they seemed bent on getting us a private triage room. I sat in a wheelchair in the hallway for about a half hour. The nurse made a joke about not having any rooms and said "well, that's UCSF for ya, right?" as if we were supposed to think that was funny. Never the less, I made a joke about delivering right there on the chair, in the hallway. At this time, the contractions required all of my concentration, to the point where I have no memory of what was going on around me once a contraction hit. In between contractions however, I was fully alert and in good spirits. I was joking with Nic and still excited and pretty comfortable.

We finally got a room after a woman with twins was led away for a c-section. When we got into the tiny triage room the first thing we noticed was the hysterical crying coming form the room next to ours. There was a woman in there screaming and sobbing at the top of her lungs. I got worried for her. I thought for sure they had just told her that her baby was stillborn, or some other horrible news. I could not imagine anything that would make me scream like that. When our nurse came in I asked her what was wrong with the woman. "Oh, nothing she's just in labor, she's not far enough along so we were going to send her home, but it looks like were going to have to admit her and give her some pain meds."

This news was alarming. I started to wonder, was I far enough in labor? Were they going to send me home? Also, how much worse did it get if that lady was screaming like that so early on?
Luckily they informed us (after a much less painful exam) that I was 4cm dilated and 40% effaced. The news that the woman screaming in the other room was just as far into labor as I was made me really appreciate the relaxation techniques I had been taught. They admitted me to the hospital and we were escorted to our very own labor suite with a beautiful panoramic San Francisco view. Of course it was about 1am, so we could see nothing. The room was great, with a couch, and a bathroom with a big tub with jets. The room also contained everything the staff would need to deliver my baby and do all the tests that needed to be done, that way Delilah wouldn't need to be taken for the room for any reason as long as she was healthy.

I made the decision to have an IV put in just in case I needed fluids or meds during my labor, an "unnecessary medical intervention" that most natural birthing proponents would have said not to. After the IV was in (they put it in and even drew blood during a contraction so I don't remember that part), I decided to get in the tub. Nic sat out side of it and stroked my arm and talked to me. We accidentally left all his Hypnobirthing scripts at home (doh!) so he didn't know exactly what to say, but he tried his best to help me relax.

After the water got cold I got out to labor in the bed. The hours after that begin to blend together. I remember some nurses coming in and trying to talk to me but slipping into contractions. I could hear Nic telling them that I was having a contraction and wouldn't be able to speak. He made most of my medical decisions from there on out. The contractions became gradually more intense, longer, and closer together until I wouldn't even bother to bring myself back to consciousness in between them. After a while they started blending into one another, and Nic said it would be almost a hour at a stretch before I would make any kind of noise. If I wanted something, I would grunt and Nic would try to guess what I wanted. Usually it was a cold rag on my head. He stood by my bedside for hours and hours just holding a cold wet rag on my forehead, and I used this subtle pressure as a base for my hypnosis. It served as an anchor of sorts keeping me from becoming lost in the waves of pain and pressure. I clung to it like someone hung over clings to the floor to get the world to stop spinning.

At one point this exchange took place:

me: (after not speaking for quite some time) I'm going to throw up.

Nic: You think you might throw up?

Me: I AM GOING TO VOMIT GET SOMETHING RIGHT NOW.

I proceeded to throw up the last thing I had eaten, and it was not good. Nic barely made it in time with the bathroom trash can. It was apparently very impressive.

With that I slipped back into contraction-land. About three hours later I woke up out of nowhere and, still nauseous and thinking it had been mere moments since I threw up, snapped at Nic for eating a sandwich because I could smell it. Poor guy.

The timeline of events is really messed up for me, since I was experiencing extreme time distortion, but i know that at one point I opened my eyes and told Nic I wanted an epidural. Nic told me just to focus on the work I had already done, not linger on work yet to be done. I would have argued that no, give me a fucking epidural, but I got lost in another contraction, and kind of just decided that it was more work to argue with him than it was to just keep going. Don't ask me how that logic works. At any rate, I can tell you right now if i would have known that I'd be trying to push the baby out for 5 hours, I would have fought alot fucking harder for that epidural.

At about 7am I started getting the urge to push, so a nurse checked me and said that within an hour I would be pushing, and that in the next couple hours we would probably have our baby. Nic had called my good friend Adrienne who was standing in for my sister since my sister would be flying in for another 4 days, and Adrienne was on her way.

I didn't actually start pushing until 11:30 am. I don't know if that's because I didn't press the matter, but once I could not physically stop myself from pushing any longer, the nurse checked me and said that it was time to push. I have a feeling that if I would have told them at 8 that I HAD to push, it wouldn't have made a difference. The contractions right before I started pushing were the worst. I couldn't seem to breath through them the way I had with previous contractions, and the ends of them were very painful to say the least. It took me a long time to realize that the contractions were changing because the baby was moving down the birth canal.

When I got the go-ahead to start pushing the room filled with people. They asked me if I would allow a male medical student to view and assist my birth. I said that i didn't care. By this point in my labor I lost really every scrap of modesty I had in me. I was so tired, and had been laboring for so long, that I didn't really care who the hell walked into the room. Never the less, I was genuinely happy when Adrienne knocked on the door after I had been pushing for about an hour. She stood at my left along with the male medical student, and Nic stood at my right.

As of yet my water had not broken, They said they could see the sack, and it looked like it would burst at any moment. They had me change positions alot during the pushing phase. Sometimes I labored on my hands and knees, laying reclining, squatting using a squat bar, and I used a birthing stool (which looks like a metal chair with the seat taken off) with Nic sitting behind me for support. each position changed the pushes a little bit, and while on the birth stool my water broke. They told me they could see the head, and that she had LOTS of dark hair.

Hours wore on, and even though the head was visible I still had not delivered the baby. During every push my support team would count the seconds to help me push longer and stronger. When I started pushing, my pushes lasted maybe ten seconds, followed by a short five second push. By the time I delivered I was consistently pushing for over 20 seconds, twice during each contraction. As I pushed, everyone told me the head would come out farther, but no matter how hard and long I pushed once I stopped the head would go back in. I was beginning to lose steam, and the baby's heart rate was becoming erratic for the first time during my labor. I was given oxygen to help me breathe in between contractions, and my midwife started discussing an assisted delivery. An O.B. was called. the doctor who came was named Kym, and she told me that I didn't have to suffer anymore, and that they could give me an emergency epidural and just pull the baby out. I didn't understand because everyone up until now had been telling me that everything was fine and there was nothing to worry about.

I asked the doctor "Is the baby in distress?' her answer was "No, I just think your so tired it's compromising your pushing." I told her that if they think I can do it myself, I'd like to do it myself. The doctor was really forceful that I should have an epidural either way, saying that I didn't have to suffer. I thought At this point I wish someone would have said, "Lise, we need to get the baby out now, and we can't wait for you to keep pushing." I would have totally deferred to their medical opinion. But instead what happened is that I pushed futilely for another half hour, and then the baby's heart rate started spiking and dropping dramatically. From there everything happened very fast. My midwife told me she was bringing Kym back in to talk to me again about assisted delivery. By now I didn't need to talk to her again, it was clear to me that my midwife had understated the urgency of the situation. When Kym got there she briefly told me that they didn't have time for an epidural but that they would give me a local anesthetic. I interrupted her and told her to just do whatever she needed to do to get the baby out.

After that the room filled with people equipment was brought in, and surgical masks were donned. Nic stayed very close to my side and whispered words of encouragement into my ear. As the next contraction started to build they told me push as hard as I could and that this was it. I pushed harder than I ever had, but apparently they could not affix the suction to the baby's head. After I got done pushing and there was still no baby out, I had a moment of sheer panic, thinking that I would never get her out and something horrible would happen to us both. The next contraction didn't come right away, which was good because I needed a chance to catch my breath and get a hold of myself. As the contraction came I waited to push until I couldn't hold it back and then pushed I with all my might. The room was full of people come in to help, or to watch. Everyone was shouting words of encouragement, people who I hadn't seen and didn't know.

The voice of an old man (who I never actually saw, but later learned was the anesthesiologist who would have given me the epidural if there was time) yelled out "GO! Push! you can do it!" And even while pushing a baby into this world, it thought "who the fuck is that guy?"

I didn't really feel the baby come out, there was just a ton of pressure, and all of the sudden there was nothing. I had been injected with a local anesthetic for the episiotomy that was given, but other than that I hadn't been given any drugs of any kind. I felt a weight on my stomach and I looked down to see a blood covered little person laying on my abdomen. I reached down to hold her and manged to touch her for a moment before the cord was cut and she was whisked to the other side of the room to be examined by a team of pediatricians.

I cannot describe what I was feeling after that. I remember just trying to wrap my brain around that it was finally over. My pregnancy was over, my labor was over. I was so exhausted, and I was just sobbing. All of the sudden I was alone except for the nurse who was giving me pitocin to help expel my placenta (which turned out to be unnecessary since my placenta pretty much delivered it's self.) I started calling out"Baby! Baby!" and the nurses, thinking I was calling for Delilah, tried to calm me down, saying "she's alright, she's alright" but really I wanted Nic to come back. I felt like without him there my rock was gone. After a few minutes, Nic brought the baby to me.

She looked so much like Nic I was stunned. She was so small and beautiful. I wish I could say that I felt this overwhelming love for her right away, but the truth is I was just so tired, I was too emotionally shot to feel anything other than relief that wy ordeal was over and I could finally relax. It would take a while before I would really bond with my daughter. The love I felt for Nic though was just multiplied by so much. I was so grateful that he stood by me through all of that. And at the end when they told my I had been in labor for 24 hours, I didn't believe them. but lo and behold, I started labor around 3:30 pm on Thursday, and delivered at exactly 3:30 pm on Friday. Delilah Claire Baker was born on her due date, just like me. I just wish so much that my own mother was alive to see her.

Having a baby was the most difficult thing I have ever done. I cannot begin to express how it feels. I just know I cried alot, in fear, frustration, self doubt, and eventually relief and happiness.