The New Site is Up

The new site is launched. Please let me know what you think.
A definite improvement to my old site here.

Chuckanucka

Gift from my good friend Milan. 

Caption reads:

Ok, you know what? Chuckanucka. That's what. Chuckanucka worries about pretty much everything under the sun: What if the phone rings when I go out? What if the mail man tries to deliver my Deluxe Ugly Earmuffs when I'm in the bathroom? Hey, I don't remember leaving the closet door open Just a crack like that! What if I can't ever stop thinking about my name over and over?

Chuckanucka has a pretty strange way of looking at life. Sometimes he wonders if this is all just a hologram, and on other days he wonders what's going to happen if they stop making CD players . . . How will I play my favorite CDs??? I have over nine of them!!! Poor Chuckanucka. Lucky Chuckanucka.

This guy never ceases to amaze me. I love how he dances from 3:05 till the end. 

Thank you Judice. ROTFL or close to it.

Our Muppet Takes Manhattan

Second annual Christmas promenade. This year we were accompanied by friends. Elizabeth didn't see much.

Late Thanksgiving Post

Went to Mexico to celebrate Thanksgiving (a la smoked turkey) with the family.


We all had a great time including Elizabeth.

The highlight for me was having my dad help me in his shop to cut Elizabeth's baby blocks, and when I burned them with the wood burner. Not perfectly square but they do the trick.

The girls saw. ( ". . . vampire" hehe)

The boys saw.

The Hip-Hop in Me

This song (# 5) by the Cool Kids (A Little Bit Cooler) is really funny. It resonates with me and my childhood. Any rap song with Sega in the chorus has got to be good. A very pleasant discovery. (And of course I love artists #1 and 9 a lot. And #6 now too.)

Update on the B*** Job

Thanks to all of you who've reached out to me during all of this breastfeeding hoopla. I thought I'd post an update and also some new pics of Elizabeth.

Things continue to go up and down with the feedings. But I feel like, overall, the line has a positive slope. Having her sleep upright seems to be working well. She, dare I say it, has even slept through the night a few times. I'm still off dairy, though I have my doubts about its effectiveness. And we're keeping up with the Zantac, though it constipates the poor thing. On a positive note, Elizabeth has now successfully taken a bottle and, in fact, we're alternating feedings between bottles and breast to help her with her "pacing," as my lactation consultant put it. Sometimes I don't understand what she's talking about (and I do ask!) but I just keep going with it. I've also discovered the joys of nursing lying down. Though I still can't do it on my side, Elizabeth does pretty well with me on my back and her on my stomach. It keeps me relaxed and her too. Sometimes a little too relaxed—she's always falling asleep. But life goes on. Some days she eats well, others she doesn't. Some days I handle it well, others I don't. But she's healthy, I'm healthy, and life is good and that's what I have to keep focusing on. My LC did say, when I asked if I was making too big a deal of things, "Wellllllll...I don't think that things were as bad as you thought they were. But there's nothing wrong with wanting to help your baby be as happy as possible." Very dipolmatic. In fact, as I've discussed my issues with other moms, I find that the situation could be MUCH MUCH worse. So thank you to everyone for your support. I'll still be checking her weight every week. But I think it's time to accept things as they are and move on.

In other news, Elizabeth seems to enjoy bubble baths and didn't cry at all last night. Here's proof:
We're pretty much in love with this kid. Adam keeps taking pictures of her, like every night. This is my favorite so far:
I think she's deciding if she wants to cry or pass gas. Or maybe both.

I also love this picture. I unwrapped her swaddle one day when I thought she'd slept too long. (I know, I know. Never wake a sleeping baby. I'm a new mom; I'm allowed to be a little anal.) Anyways, this was the position I found her in:
All of a sudden, I could picture her in the womb—inside me. She was inside me? Wow.

P.S. At her weight check a week after we met with the lactation consultant, she had gained 10 oz! For a grand total of 8 lbs. 8 oz. Go Elizabeth!

Star Wars: Robot Chicken

So funny.

Star Wars spoofs directed by Seth Green. Check it out.

Episode 1 is online.

Personal favorites include:

Asteroid field failure.

Yo Mama battle.

New line of work.

One Month

Better late than never...

Today is Elizabeth's one month birthday. And what a month! Adam and I both agree that it feels MUCH longer than just 30 days. But we love our little angel. Here's a few pictures to commemorate the day:

In her swing, fascinated by the flying fish.

This is how she sleeps—swaddled in her favorite blanket and upright for the reflux. (The other blanket is to throw over her head to help her fall asleep.)

All bundled up to go outside. What a cutie!

Happy one month birthday, Elizabeth!

My Boob Job

It's Sunday morning, 10:30 AM. Why am I not at church? Why am I sitting in a bathrobe with leaky "faucets" and nasty, matted hair, and no ability to take a nap?

Last week, I took Elizabeth to the pediatrician to be weighed and to discuss with her my concerns about E's eating habits. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, she'll stay on the breast for a whole 10 minutes and, with a lot of prompting, suck most of the time she's on. But a lot of times, she'll eat for five minutes then flip out, arch her back, scream like I'm torturing her, then take forever to settle down. And when she does settle down, if I so much as lower her back to nursing position, she wigs out again. Do I have nasty sour milk??? We suspected acid reflux, so the doctor put her on Zantac, but that didn't seem to be making a difference and was maybe constipating her. I wasn't sure if her strange eating habits were such a big deal or not, so hence the Dr. appointment.

I placed my little angel on the scale, the nurse moved the weights back and forth, then I just stared in shock as she told me: "Seven pounds, fourteen ounces." I asked her to try again. Nope, she was right. E had only gained 7 ounces in two weeks. And she weighed about the same as she did last week on the post office scale (minus clothes.) That's when I burst into tears and didn't stop crying through the whole appointment. The pediatrician assured me that Elizabeth was "thriving," but she suggested I see a lactation consultant. Then she asked how I was doing. More tears. However, thanks to this kind doctor's prompting, I'm working with the consultant, I've spoken with my midwife about my postpartum issues, I've started medication, and I have an appointment to see a psychiatrist next week. So I'm trying everything I can to get the support Elizabeth and I need. But will it help?

The lactation consultant is a warm, friendly, kind-of-granola-in-a-good-way, Jewish woman who works out of her home. She spent a nice long time w/ Elizabeth and me and was so kind and wise and wonderful. She kissed and caressed Elizabeth like she was her own grandchild. (Though she's barely grandmother age.) She determined, due to E's pattern of weight gain (tons at the beginning and now petering off) that she's got a weak suck and so we're doing exercises every time she eats. We massage her temples, squish her lips like a fish, tap around her lips, put in our finger to suck and fix her lips again to see if the suck gets stronger. I was skeptical at first but she assured me it would help. The consultant also saw E's baby acne (hence no pictures lately), and with that and her screaming at the breast, thinks she does indeed have reflux and it might be coupled with a dairy allergy. So no more dairy for mom and we're keeping up with the Zantac and have added extra burping at feedings and we're keeping her upright all the time--including nap time--she sleeps in the swing. To top it all off, since E's not sucking deeply and long enough to get all the hind milk, I'm pumping half an ounce before each feeding. Are we exhausted yet?

All of this has required lots of help so Friday, my dear friend and her happy happy boy (who gives me hope for Elizabeth's future) came to help. We had a great day and things seemed to be going well. Saturday, Adam was my wingman, but little Betty (does that nickname work?) seemed to revert to old behavior and was cranky and ate poorly. I've spoken with the LC and we're going to track my diet to see what else it might be and keep up with the exercises and the pumping. And so it goes on.

Sometimes I get weary. Why is this so hard? Should I just switch to formula? When I was pregnant, I had a number of dreams where I would be trying to suckle my baby, but no milk would come and she would get smaller and smaller until she'd disappear and I couldn't find her. To this day, the memory of those dreams brings tears to my eyes. I know Elizabeth won't starve. I know everything will be fine. But how will I get through this? Why can't I feed my child?

But then comes hope. Adam and a neighbor gave our baby a blessing Thursday night, the day we met with the consultant. Adam blessed her to continue to grow and that her stomach would be healed. He also gave me a blessing of comfort that I would have strength and patience and peace through all of this. I've spent more time on my knees this weekend than I can remember.

So that's why I'm not at church, though I long for the spirit the Sacrament brings. I suppose I should try to shower before Elizabeth wakes up and we go through the whole big production again. But I'll do whatever it takes. And I know the Lord is blessing us, though His ways and timing are not my own.

Obama Win Causes Obsessed Backers To See How Empty Lives Are

You're the best! Around!

So because we have a baby now we gave into the instant movie gratification of Netflix™. And one of the first complete movies we watched together was one Emily hadn't seen: Karate Kid. I don't know how that's possible either. We both couldn't get over Elizabeth Shue and her young-ness. I try to do that Mr. Miyagi thing some times, but my hands never get hot enough. And to set the record straight, Pat Morita is Japanese American not Korean (despite rumors). Emily thought Daniel LaRusso was a bit too pretty, but I don't agree. He's just suave.

The Sun Comes Out

Last night I had a revelation: I've been through this before and I know how to deal with it.

I also realized that I have a duty to Adam and my daughter to do my best and not give up. Through the therapy I've already had, I've learned the tools to deal with this. I just needed to remember them and use them.

So here are my new commandments, or How to Beat Anxiety/Depression:

1. DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! Doing nothing only makes you feel worse.
2. Read scriptures and pray every day.
3. Feelings aren't fact! Remind yourself that the bad thoughts/feelings you have aren't true. Don't believe Satan's lies.
4. Exercise.

Thanks so much for your comments, guys. I hope I didn't freak anyone out. So here's proof, courtesy of our brand-spankin' new iMac, (which I'm shocked Adam hasn't blogged about yet) that i'm feeling better.

(Please ignore the unmentionables hanging in the background.)

More thoughts

How Emily and I feel about the protests.

On the couch...

No matter how many moms I talk to, I still feel like I'm absolutely alone in the world. I'm going crazy. Anyone mind if I use this blog as therapy? I know Adam probably will. Elizabeth is only 3 weeks old. This is the end of just the first week by ourselves. And I don't know if I can take it. I know my hormones are whack right now. But I haven't felt this anxious and depressed since after my mission. And that led to a lot of self-destructive behavior followed by therapy and medication. It's mostly at night. When Adam's not home. And sometimes when he is. He told me today it's getting hard for him to come home b/c when he does I'm such a wreck. I'm angry, irritable, and unpleasant to be around. I'm getting enough sleep--at least I think I am. Elizabeth is good about sleeping for long chunks (4-5 hours) in the night. I try to get out everyday--even for just a walk. I call my friends. I watch funny shows on TV to make myself laugh. But at the end of the day, everything gets so dark and I feel like I've lost everything and I'll never be free again and I don't know how I'll make it through another day. I just get so lonely. But it's not like my days are hard. I feed her. I help her settle down for naps. I rock and console her when she's fussy. I change diapers. I do at least one productive thing--like dishes or laundry. I even get to shower everyday. So why do I feel like I'm losing my mind and that I'll never be happy again? I'm supposed to be thrilled; so in love with this baby, right? Then why do I sometimes feel like running far far away? Like I want to disappear. Like a zombie? She's a beautiful baby. Adam is a wonderful husband. We're so blessed. So why am I weeping in despair?

This we believe

For us personally this issue boiled down to whether we know President Monson is a true prophet of God or not. It's a struggle though, because I know that many are hurt and wounded by these results. Those we know who are hurt by this outcome, please know our love and friendship for you has not changed. But nor has our clinging to the plan of happiness.

The Little Engine That Could

© Callie Shell/Aurora for Time

Caption: Two staffers had just passed this site and done two pull-ups. Not to be outdone, Obama did three with ease, dropped and walked out to make a speech. Missoula, Mont., 4/5/2008

And Life Goes On

Well it's Day 2 of Real Life. Adam is back at work, all our visitors have come and gone, and Baby Elizabeth and I are adjusting to each other and life at home. And I have a sneaking suspicion we have it pretty easy. All last week, I rode an emotional rollercoaster that would go up when Elizabeth had a good feeding, and WAY WAY down when she would fuss and only eat 5 minutes at a time. I was convinced she was going to die. So yesterday, in my new mom madness, I went with my best Brooklyn bud to the post office to weigh Elizabeth on the self-serve scale. (Once in car seat, once just car seat, then subtract. Thank you, Sister Nay.) At her appointment last Wednesday, she'd gained a whopping 11 oz. But her next appointment wasn't for two months and here I was, wondering if she was going to wither away b/c she didn't seem to be eating enough. But, of course, the scale proved otherwise (as the wet and poopy diapers should have, too): she's gained another 7 ounces. Oh, the relief! I burst into tears. But the rest of the day was really calm and things are starting to feel a little more normal. And, not to jinx ourselves, but she so far has been sleeping really, I mean really well at night. I'll feed her between 9 and 11 PM, she'll go down fine. Wake up anywhere from 2 to 4 AM, feeds again, then is down until it's time for Adam to get up for work. Normal? Healthy? I'll be asking the pediatrician today when I call with my huge list of questions. But for now, we're not complaining.

Here are some pics from Grandma Davis' visit. Thanks, Mom, for everything!

At Green-Wood Cemetery. What a place to take a newborn, huh?

In Sunset Park

Adam's parents also came to visit, but unfortunately we don't have any pictures of them just yet. Adam blessed Elizabeth at church and this is us after we got home. Do I look as exhausted as I felt?

He did a wonderful job and I cried the whole way through. Adam's family also brought the crib his dad made us, which is absolutely beautiful. When everything's set up in the nursery, we'll post more pictures. Until then, enjoy this picture of Elizabeth, where she's making my favorite face: "Oh boy! Time to eat!"

My War Story, Reader Discretion Advised

From thisTo this
To this
So here's the labor story, with all the gory details. For a reader's digest version, email Adam.

So there I was, almost two weeks overdue, and the midwives were threatening to induce on Monday, the 20th. I was desperate so I asked Adam to pick up castor oil and some ice cream, courtesy of JFK Fried Chicken (see pic above). (NYC culture moment: Need ice cream by the pint? Try the fried chicken place.) I mixed 1/4 cup castor oil (which is like vegetable oil) with the ice cream and some milk, hoping to make a sort of shake. It was dee-gusting, to say the least. So I ate that at around 10 PM. At about midnight, it starts to...work and I'm in and out of the bathroom with Montezuma's Revenge for the next couple of hours. I even considered lying down on the floor next to the toilet to save myself the trip.

At some point around 3, the pain switched from intestinal to something else I couldn't identify. I'd been having "practice" contractions for over a month, so I had kind of an idea what real contractions would feel like, but these were sharp, shooting pains in my hips and along my pelvic bone. I'd read somewhere that labor pains were never "sharp" so that, plus the spotting that had started, convinced me to call the midwife. The answering service had her paged and she called back right away. I must have sounded like death. She told me the pain was most likely early labor as the baby was dropping down into my pelvis. She told me to hang in there, and come into the hospital when the contractions started coming 3 minutes apart. The idea behind that was that Adam and I wanted to do most of the laboring at home, for many reasons, but mostly for comfort and to increase our chances of having a natural birth with the least amount of intervention as possible. So Adam got me to lie down in our Bradley Method position and he tried to coach me through the contractions. But they were so intensely painful, I couldn't relax. I tried standing, leaning against a wall, leaning on him, rocking back and forth on my hands and knees, and finally leaning onto the back of a chair, rocking my hips forward and back. All the time, I kept telling myself, once we get to that *&^% hospital, I'm getting that &^%$# epidural! Oh, and I threw up several times, I think from the pain.

After a few hours of this, the pain changed and the contractions became a lot more "normal." Adam built me a chair/throne (see pic above) that felt very comfortable and I laid/sat down with blanket over me and he sat on the couch and started timing the contractions as he'd coach me through them. This time, the coaching worked and, with his help, I was able to labor for 3 or 4 hours like that. The pain would come like a wave. Adam would help me focus on relaxing each muscle, and just when it threatened to overpower me, the pain would peak and drop off, leaving me more relaxed than ever and I would often doze between contractions. They were coming 7 minutes apart, steadily, so we figured we'd be at this all day. Adam called to let people know he'd be missing church and his meetings, and I just focused on relaxing through each wave of pain.

About 10 or so, things were going really well (Adam was an AMAZING coach). All of a sudden, I was hit with a tsunami. I couldn't relax for the life of me and I started to cry and yell and writhe. Then another one came, then another. It was incredible. I shouted out, "Dear God, help me!" I'm not one to take the Lord's name in vain. I really thought I was going to die. Then, I felt this overwhelming need to go to the bathroom...Number 2. So I run to the toilet, there's blood everywhere, and I realize that I'm not pushing to push poo out. That's when we really freaked out. I yelled at Adam to call the midwife. He dialed the number but the call didn't go through. Are you kidding?! We tried again on my phone. No go. We tried ten times without success. (We later found out that a tower was down or something.) What should we do? Do we get in the car and drive ourselves? I didn't think I could make it to the car. But if we call an ambulance, it's all a matter of chance which hospital's ambulance shows up and then we wouldn't end up at our hospital with our midwife. What do we do?! Adam dialed 911 and described what was happening. I was in even MORE intense pain and was braying and yelling at the top of my lungs. The man on the other end told Adam to tell me, "DON'T PUSH!" I cannot describe the agony of fighting that urge to push. "Why can't I push?!" I yelled at him back. "Because you don't want to have the baby at home!" Are you kidding me? We're that close? I was completely overpowered by the urge to push and my arms and hands would seize up with each spasm of pain.

The EMT guys came quickly and, thanks be to the Lord (he was with us every step of the way), it was an ambulance for our hospital, Maimonides (which is really a miracle since Lutheran's ambulance is almost always idling outside the gas station at the end of our street and I've never seen a Maimonides ambulance in our neighborhood,) The guys check me to see if I'm crowning, tell Adam to put some pants on me (which the nurses at the hospital were not happy about), and start loading me into this carrier thing. Adam grabs the hospital bag we have yet to finish packing, throws a hoodie over his garments and basketball shorts, grabs my purse and we're out the door, in the ambulance and driving over what I believe is the most pot hole-ridden road in all of Brooklyn. I'm of course yelling all the way, though I really wouldn't call it yelling. I honestly felt like an animal--like a donkey or a cow or an elephant...but I was extremely loud as they wheeled me into the ER, and I knew I was being loud and everyone was staring, but I couldn't have cared less. My water breaks and they wheel me into Labor and Delivery where my midwife is sitting at a desk. She looks at me in shock and asks what on earth we're doing coming in an ambulance. All the labor rooms are full so they put me in an OR and lie me flat on my back on a table. I cry to Adam to lift me up. A nurse grabs one leg, Adam grabs the other, and I can FINALLY push! That pain is a whole other ball game. The angel nurse at my left tells me to curl up around the baby and push down like I'm having a bowel movement. I start to yell and grunt but the midwife says, don't vocalize, or something like that. I guess it wastes energy. "PUSH! PUSH! PUSH!" everyone is yelling at me and I'm pushing with all my might. I can't describe how it felt. I've pushed for only 15 minutes but it felt like an eternity when the midwife says she's going to have to cut me b/c the baby has passed her meconium (sp?). So she cuts me (no anesthesia--ouch!) and a few pushes later, out comes her head and OH MY GOODNESS! I feel SO MUCH BETTER. And Hallelujah, it's OVER! Little baby comes out crying and i reach for her but they take her to the side to check her out and clean her up. Adam is beside himself as they bring her back and put her on my chest. That's when I cried the sweetest tears I've ever shed. Adam helped me lift up my shirt so I could put her against my skin and she latched on just as easy as can be. It was beautiful. And it was worth it. All of it. God gave us a miraculous birth that day. And I thank Him for all the wonderful people who attended to me and Elizabeth. Adam was the true hero, though. I had no idea how well he'd do. It was so wonderful to hold her and see the joy radiating from his face as he looked at his little girl.

Then, of course, they took her away as they checked me out and stitched me up (ouch again.) But they brought her back and I didn't care if they poked me and stuck me till the day was over as long as I had her and Adam by my side.

Getting to know her

All the nurses said she was so alert (and beautiful).

Meet Elizabeth

Since Baby Johnson hasn't decided to grace us with her presence yet, I thought I'd try to revive our blog with some heated political debate!

Here's my latest thoughts on the election:

If I had to sum up my feelings in one word, it would be "conflicted." You see, I used to be a big John McCain fan. I remember hearing him on NPR back in '06 talking about how we needed a troop surge and thinking, "Wow, this guy really sounds like he knows what he's talking about." Then, as the primary circus started, I grew to like him more and actually voted for him and NOT Mitt (please don't take away my recommend). My reason was simple: I felt he had more (yes more) integrity. Take his stance on two policies: torture and immigration. He was a POW, so he had the courage to oppose torture and wanted to close Guantanamo—good for him! He lives in Arizona and has first-hand knowledge of the realities of the plight of Hispanic immigrants, so he did the unpopular thing and backed immigration reform without giving in to right-wing xenophobia like Brother Romney. That won big points with me.

But now I'm starting to have serious second thoughts and they've come in the form of our favorite Tina Fey look-alike. I know McCain wants to win, and maybe some ends justify the means, but this one doesn't for me. I don't object to her b/c she is a working mom (I hope I'm not that self-righteous) or because she doesn't interview well and is a TOTAL EMBARRASSMENT to the campaign. Hey, remember Dan Quayle? What I object to is that McCain only chose her to win votes. Maybe the VP doesn't do all that much. But couldn't he have had a shred more of integrity and chosen someone a bit more . . . more . . . ? Help me out here, folks.

So this leaves me with the question of who to vote for, now that my hero has fallen from grace. The more I watch the debates, the more I'm leaning towards . . . Obama. But am I really? Or am I just being seduced by the "cool" vote? Now that the economy has put all other issues on the back burner, including my pets—immigration and torture—I am at a loss. They both promise to cut taxes and help Main Street (which, if I hear another sound byte about Wall St. vs. Main Street, I'm going to throw my radio out the window). But would a liberal really reign in government spending and CUT taxes? But can I trust McCain to do any of the things he says he'll do? Help!

So feel free to post all your liberal/moderate/conservative/libertarian/communist/greenparty ideas so I'll have something to do besides sit around and wait for this baby. Maybe an especially inflammatory comment will send me into labor . . .

Still Waiting

So maybe the creepy vulture/stork accidentally took our baby to a war-torn country in Europe.