Goodbye, 2010

It is time to say goodbye to 2010 and it will go down as a very memorable year. It began with the news of a baby on the way, and nine months later our bundle of sugar and spice and everything nice brought balance back to our little family. She was healthy and perfect, but a quick scare that took us to Cook Chidren's Hospital in Fort Worth, for what amounted to a false alarm, quickly brought home the reality of how difficult it can be to bring a healthy baby into the world, and how blessed someone is to have a complication-free birthing event. We never ventured far enough into the halls of the hospital to see too many of the children with life-threatening illnesses or conditions, but I'll never forget some of the faces I saw from parents - in the elevators, down the halls or in the cafeteria. They were weary faces that tried to be neighborly and friendly, but often poorly hid dispair or frustration. I'll never forget those faces.

2010 was a year for my beloved Texas Rangers to reach the World Series, and for the passing of dear family friend Peggy Cavanaugh. A high, a low, back and forth. That's life. But, history books will show 2010 as a year of high unemployment and a country spinning wheels in economic recession muck. A recession affects us all one way or another, but the big monster's fangs failed to take a major bite out of this family, my job was safe and successful, and for that I am again grateful.

I think it's common for people to look towards a new year with high hopes and renewed vigor and energy of bigger and better things. In doing so, the past year sometimes unfairly gets a bad rap. Optimism and wishful daydreaming is easy. Proper bookkeeping of blessings and thanks over the course of 12 months is difficult, and I think too many people give up trying. Next year will be better than this year is an ideology that has been marketed by corporate America for eons, and there are countless people willing to stand in line to hear the sermon, whomever is preaching it.

Where we do hope for 2011 to bring happiness and successes beyond our wildest imagination, life tells us that we should also be prepared to have our hearts broken along the way. That will take care of itself. Today, we simply look back one last time and give thanks and a fond hug goodbye to 2010, for better or worse.

A Little Love For Karissa

Some days Karissa just seems so small and innocent and itty-bitty and unchanged one iota since she was delivered just over three months ago.

Then a week like this week happens, when not only have we hopelessly upgraded from Size 1 to Size 2 diapers. I've had to adjust her car seat where the belts come up higher over her shoulders. Then she sits up in her Bumbo seat for long periods of time, not only holding her head up for extended periods of time, but actually swivelling her head from side to side and showing curiosity of her surroundings. Holding a stare at the TV, eyeing things up and down. Then when a voice speaks she turns back to it to inspect it. She has a distinctive laugh now - a bit of a lurching, hoarse smoker's-voice guffaw. Add a big smile from ear to ear with not a trace of a tooth in that mouth and it's something to behold.

She is still sleeping well through the night - still unswaddled and with nothing but her jammies and a blanket thrown over her so she can sprawl her legs and arms and take up as much space on that matress as possible. She gets a lot of brotherly love, but I've noticed how much attention Kole gets on this blog as opposed to Karissa. He is older and is evolving a more defined personality, but I thought my little girl needed some attention showered on her.

Christmas 2010

"Silent Night" has been sung, Elf seen at least three times at length, the gifts opened, the clean up mostly cleaned up, and it's about time to pack away the photos and memories of Christmas 2010 for the Fletcher clan. It's the first for Karissa and the third for Kole - and it's neat to think that there may have been something from this year that he'll remember forever.

Thursday night we had my mom and crew over - Grammy and Grandpa Gedy, my mom's sister Doris, Gedy's kids Ben and Shanna and her beau Paul; and of course the Grunewalds, my sister Kelley and hubby Kelly and daughters Riley and Reagan. Good house full and we had Feliz Navidad, a Mexican-themed Christmas with homemade enchiladas, tamales, tortilla soup, homemade charra beans, Spanish rice, muchos margaritas and Dos Equis, and a great time had by all. Great to see Gedy after his excitement a couple of weeks ago (a heart attack!). We exchanged gifts and played Balderdash and laughed at everyone's extremely strong BS abilities. Kole was so worn silly by the end of the night that he was practically begging to go to bed. Normally if you ask him if he's sleepy, or inform him that it's time for bed, he'll respond by finding a burst of energy and running a couple of laps around the house; maybe doing an Olympic pommel horse routine on the coffee table. On this night, after being obviously punch-drunk and crying over something insignificant, Kathy took him in and said "Are you ready for bed?", to which he responded with wide eyes: "Bed! Bed! Bed!" Poor guy.

Friday was Christmas Eve and again our house was the home base, this time for Kathy's family - her brother Duane, sister Dawnell and her husband John, and mother Joan. We ordered pizza in, exchanged gifts and again played Balderdash. Kole got one of his marquee Christmas gifts from Grandma on this night. Hard to rank one gift over another, but this one definitely takes up some real estate in the house, requiring about a total of 50 feet to completely enjoy. It's a "roller coaster" which is about four connected plastic ramp-looking things, none of which are more than a foot off the ground, but have just enough of an up-and-down to make a cool ride, then right now it empties into our kitchen where his ride extends all the way into our oven. The crew was gone before 10:30, so I was able to at least begin my Christmas Eve tradition of watching It's a Wonderful Life. I wasn't able to get all the way through, but I at least kept the streak in tact. It's at least 20-plus years.

With the kids so young, we didn't go through the entire Santa routine. We'll probably be due to begin next year, but for now we passed up the ritual of setting out cookies, etc. On Christmas morning the kids allowed us to blissfully sleep in. I don't think we rolled out of bed until at least 8:30. For Kole it looked and smelled like any other morning, so we got some breakfast in him and Karissa before we attacked the tree and did the gifts. Among the items Kole got were the one toy item that he will have passed down from his old man. I actually still have my old wooden blocks I used to play with - building things up, then taking some sort of truck or car to ram through them and destroy the building. He now has the blocks, but I don't think he knows it still. He knows the word "presents" and gets the gist of unwrapping any box he's pointed towards. He had a great haul, as did Karissa, who mostly got clothes she sorely needs. She's growing too quick. It's hard to be the one to see her every day and notice how quickly she grows. But, one day I wake up and we've switched from size 1 to size 2 diapers, and I'm readjusting the belts on her car seat to run higher over her shoulders. Over the past week Karissa has easily been more photographed than Lindsay Lohan out on a clubbing bender. She smiles and coos and is irresistible to love on. She's been kissed more over the last week than a new bride at a Catholic wedding reception.

I upgraded Kathy and got her in the modern age of technology with an Amazon Kindle reading pad and her Samsung flip-phone with a rotary dial in it is being upgraded to a Blackberry Torch. Kathy upgraded my wardrobe, which has been needed for a long time, as I'm a terrible shopper, which makes me a lousy dresser.

We ate and drank like we were on vacation and my debit card has actual bloody lacerations on it from being swiped so much. But, we survived. It was a great Christmas with quality time spent with all of our family - even a surprised visit from my cousin Jason, in from Africa where he's a pediatrician at a women and children's hospital in the country of Mali. Good times around lots of good family, and it's another Christmas that will go down with very, very fond memories.

Guy's Guide to a Vasectomy

(Publisher's Note: the following post contains graphic detail of the vasectomy procedure, graphic language, and may not be suitable reading material for everyone. Continue forward at your own risk.)

This blog is generally intended to be about our kids and, maybe on a broader scale, the twists and turns of parenthood in general. I’ve never wanted this to be so much about us or me. But there are exceptions, and I think the following tale touches on family planning and what many parents must face at one point or another.
Thursday I got a vasectomy, and I think it’s worth a blog entry since I found nothing of my suiting around the web that properly prepared me for what I went through. I’ll try to keep the language clean and clinical and hope that this may serve as some sort of helpful guide for someone.

Taking one for the team
During our pregnancy with Karissa we knew that two was enough, especially with Kathy 37 and me about to turn 40. Kathy’s options of birth control are limited, for various reasons. The condom and I have never got along. After the birth it was time for someone other than Kathy to take one for the team. A urologist I had been to before, Dr. Aaron Amos of Mansifield, was first visited with a consultation, essentially to confirm in eye to eye with the doctor that – yes – I know this means being sterile and my wife agrees to it, too. The day of the procedure Kathy actually had the option to sign a “Spousal consent” document, which she did.
I started an antibiotic (Levaquin) the day before. The doctor said no grooming was required on my part, that it would be done in prep of the procedure. When I was called in, I was told by a nurse (?? PA? some assistant of the doctor; too many titles for too many people in a doctor’s office these days – an African-American woman about my age) to disrobe completely from the waist down, but that I could keep my socks on. I could then sit on the chair and drape a sheet over my lap. When I say “chair” I mean like a regular examining table/bed that every doctor’s office has, but cut in half – a little slab to sit on, then an adjustable back. My legs dangled off the edge at the knees. I sat on surgical blankets, gauze, whatever the heck that stuff is, wearing only socks and a t-shirt. I had to be quite a sight. I had my iPhone with me and ear buds. I was told to bring a book, headphones, even a portable DVD player if I wanted to. This was a local anesthetic procedure where I’d be wide awake, not unlike many dental or dermatological procedures. I chose my phone, loaded up with tunes, and a good set of ear buds that drown out all airplane noises on a flight. The woman returned and told me to lean back.

Clinical basics of a Vasectomy
A vasectomy is the snipping and partial removal of the vas deferens, a small vein-like tube which carries sperm from the testicles to its mixing station with other seminal fluids. Sperm seemingly has a short path to travel from the testicles to the penis, but in fact sperm actually travels through the vas deferens back into the body, behind and over the bladder, where it then joins with the prostate gland just above the penis. This is where ejaculate fluids are produced and stored – only about 5% of which is sperm. I have no idea what comprises the other 95%, but after a vasectomy it becomes 100% of an ejaculate. There is obviously very little that changes, outside of its potency around a pregnant woman. We are told that there will be no noticeable distinction between a former ejaculation and future one – in color, consistency and volume. For what that’s worth. They thought enough of those details to add it to the FAQs. We are also told that it will not affect any sensation that brings on an ejaculation. That’s still to be seen and will not be blogged about. Anyways, right near the testicle, the vas deferens is snipped at two points, removing about a 1/8-inch segment of it. The ends are then burnt shut. In a vasectomy reversal the two burnt ends are simply reattached.

The Prep
The first thing the nurse did was attach a piece of tape to one side of my thigh, brought it across my waist, pulled my penis upward towards my belly, taped it down then attached the tape on my other thigh. At this point, modesty and embarrassment were out the window. She made no eye contact or attempted any other chit-chat beyond what was necessary (“this might be cold”, etc.) She then took an object that I did not see and began what felt like brushing of my scrotum. Soft, gentle strokes with an object that did not feel sharp or metallic, but was obviously shaving the area. This took a couple of minutes and she was thorough. Next came another blanket that was put over my nether regions, but for a large hollow square in the middle. My taped penis remained under this sheet and only my scrotum was exposed through the sheet. Another wonderful sight this had to have been. She then scrubbed my scrotum with iodine, then wiped up and deemed me ready to be cut. Instruments were laid out on a tray with sterile sheets.
So if an aerial photo was taken all that would be seen is me looking quite normal from the torso upwards, then a white sterile sheet with nothing but a set of bald testicles protruding from it, then my black socks. Wonderful.

The Procedure
Dr. Amos arrived with cordial small talk as he scrubbed his hands and put on sterile gloves, verbally walking through the procedure as he had done before. First up was to find the vas deferens. This is done manually, and it might be the most painful part of the entire process. It was not an eventful opening act. He gashed his fingers into my scrotum and dug and pulled. He eventually found it and gave it a few tugs. On a pain scale of 1-10 I eventually told the doctor that I probably don’t know what Level 10 pain is and hope I never do, but this was a solid 9. This was the pain associated with when a man is racked in the testicles, but I’d call the pain at least twice as intense, it was not restrained to just my testicles but as far back as to my spine, and lasted nearly 60 seconds. I don't know that I can properly relay the the origin of the pain. Just imagine your testicles have roots, like a plant, and the roots go deep into your body and tie around your spine. Now imagine pulling your nuts and jerking on those roots. The pain comes not from your testicular sack, but from the roots and the innards where the pulling is taking place. Maybe the angriness of the metal playing through my ear buds wasn’t helping, so I made a quick mental note to go with happier, cheesier music when it was the other testicle’s turn. I writhed in agony, but kept my lower torso still and was commended afterwards. I never knew how I’d show pain in such a situation, but apparently it’s by intensely rubbing my head and forehead. I grunted loudly once or twice, and finally on a particularly sharp prod – approaching 9.9 on that pain scale – I did spontaneously produce a profanity. Not only was it the f-word, but with “er” on the end, making it a sort of proper noun that could be perceived as being directed at the doctor personally. I apologized when things cooled down and luckily he was in good humor about it. I weakly tried to explain that profanity is an actual dialect of live television production that is used by dainty little girls and Godly men and everyone in between. He understood and said that eventually he would have to go through that process again to find the vas deferens on my right side, and I was free to say what I needed to say. So, giving my potty mouth a green light was somewhat of a truce.
So, once 9.9-pain had been reached, he grabbed the needle and stuck me in the scrotum and deadened the area. That wasn’t so bad. From then on, I felt nothing on the exterior of my procedure. Never felt cuts, tugging, all of that. But so much pain was internal, and seemingly from the roots of my testicles. There was no anesthetic that could reach that pain, and that’s the pain that sticks out in my mind.
I spent most of the time texting Kathy out in the lobby, keeping my hands and mind busy as the tunes played. Eventually, smoke was seen and the smell of burnt skin (very much like singed hair) filled the room. That was jarring. But, all I felt – again – was the slight, lingering sensation of being racked in my testicles. Soon enough it was time to do the right testicle, the whole procedure all over. First with the prodding and finding of the vas, and a 9 on the pain scale was quickly reached. The Go-Gos “Turn to You” was not cheery enough and I let three f-bombs fly, along with an s-word. Things finally cooled down when he found the vas, pulled some slack, and made one last stick to deaden the area. I kept texting with Kathy and eventually was helping with her crossword puzzle clues (Milton Bearle’s title? 5 letters? “Uncle!”). While I had the phone hovering above me I also snuck a couple of pictures. More smoke and stench of burnt flesh filled the room. Then it was over. Only one incision was needed, just below the base of my penis. The paperwork warns that two incisions may be needed. He said it was about the size of a pencil eraser. A simple Band-Aid was placed on it. I felt it and realized there was no hair around to pull once it was ready to come off, so that was a relief. Once I thought the pain was over, the tape that was holding my penis up was removed from my thighs. One last little piece of joy.

Post-Procedure
Post-procedure instructions came while I was dressing – and these were the same instructions I was told on the initial consult: no sexual activity for 7-10 days (more specifically – “no ejaculating”); do not get the affected area wet (I’m allowed to shower, but with my back to the water); no baths or hot tubs, no submersion of the testicles. I was given Hydrocodone and told to put a cold compress on my testicles every two hours. A bag of frozen peas works fine, I was told. Into the next day, I can attest that the cold on my swollen sack actually feels really good.
For the rest of the night after the procedure, into today, it still feels like the lingering discomfort that comes after being kicked in the groin. It’s not the intense initial pain that can bring a man to his knees, but the ensuing cramping discomfort that keeps him from walking straight for several minutes. Again, it’s all more internal discomfort that external pain around my scrotum. It’s hard to describe. It’s like the roots of my testicles, wherever they originate in my body cavity, that’s where it hurts. It hurts to sit and get up from a seat, when pressure is put directly on the scrotum. Getting in and out of my car is probably the worst.
The 9.9-level pain of the procedure has been quickly forgotten. It sucked, but did not permanently scar me. Now in about 8 weeks I’ll send in a sample of my new fluids to check my potency. Right now, sperm still live in the larger section of my vas deferens and it will take time to clear the pipes. According to the paperwork, approximately 20-30 ejaculations. After the first sample is tested, I will then give another sample within two weeks. When I have given two samples within 2 weeks of one another, and both show no sperm, I am awarded the green flag of being sterile.

Original Sin

I don't pretend to be a Biblical scholar or theologian in training. Like most professed Christians, practically Duty #1 is to admit to being a sinner and base your life around seeking forgiveness, in words to God, and in action to the secular world. After some brief study, there is no use of the term "Original sin" in the Bible, in any translation of it. It is mostly a presumed status, that we are born into sin, by the belief that no one can be as perfect and sin-free as Jesus, and by the words of David in Psalm 51. This is where David is bearing his soul and begging forgiveness for committing adultery with Bathsheba.

In verse 5 he says (NIV): "Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me."

Boom. There it is. Also referred to as "ancestral sin", people have picked up on those words from David (and other glancing references, like in Romans 5: 12-21) and run with it - evolving the term original sin.

Little Karissa, saintly as she looks, is a sinner? Right now? Jesus never says explicitly, and the idea originates from a man desperately wrought with guilt after committing one of the 7 ultimate No-No sins.

Eh ... something for someone with a few more theological stripes on his shoulder than I, a guy who tries to live as cleanly as possible, but who also can barely recite just a couple of key Bible verses.

Now, no slight against our beautiful son, so full of wonderment and curiostiy. His little troublemaking ventures are merely blog stories waiting to happen ... not full-blow sin! Right?

You see a cute little boy. We see the genesis of something that will have one of us shouting his name.

If there's ever a moment to wonder, it's now. How else does he learn to fake eating? Like when he's eating just fine, but then suddenly becomes consumed with getting down to go play with his Elmo or firetruck. We tell him to eat another bite of something, then he takes the fork of food just to the front of his open mouth ... clamps down on nothing ... then moves his jaw in a fake chew. He's never seen either one of us do it. Where does it come from?

What about the look he gives when he's been alone in a room way too long, with way too much quiet around. We turn around the corner and catch him standing all by himself with seemingly nothing amiss around him, except for a look on his face that says: Am I in trouble or not? Did you see that or not? Are you going to stay right there, or pursue this crime scene further? Can I just start repeating the word "poop" and divert your attention like an ice cream truck to a dog? Where does a 2-year-old learn deceit?

I don't need to see black kernels to know that burnt popcorn has been in the room, and I don't need to see broken glass, Crayola marks on the wall, or an open cabinet to know that unapproved tomfoolery has taken place with our boy.

Original sin, or ancestral sin? I don't think that even the Bible can prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt - and the Bible already has a fair share of doubters. But I think a little boy named Kole Fletcher is proof enough.

Milestones Quickly Emerge

Not only is she holding her head up and able to sit in a Bumbo seat (for 5-10 minutes at a time, before her head gets a tad too heavy), but this past week Karissa also made a very successful transition to her crib for nighttime sleep. We're still keeping our fingers crossed and hoping we don't jinx ourselves. So - knock on wood, and all that goes with that. She now spends more time awake through the day, which is a great thing. Her eyes sparkle, her smiles more often. She's eating well and growing well and she's normally good for sleep between 10pm and 6 or maybe 7am. She does most of her daytime naps on her tummy but we have not given in to the nighttime tummy sleep, so she is on her back. And again - no swadlle, feet and arms sprawled all around just like she likes it.
Kole continues to baffle us with his development of words. He's very good about saying 'please' and 'thank you', but is not sure of the appropriate times to use them. He'll say 'please' over and over and over again, into a frenzied whining state, without ever saying exactly what he wants, please.
So we ask - "Do you want juice?"
Kole: "Please!" (in proper, phonetic Kole-talk he say ah-peez, two syllables, for some reason)
"Do you want milk?"
"Ah-peez!"
"Kole - what do you want? You have to tell Daddy."
"Ah-peez!"
This goes on and on. Tho other abnormality is for him to say "thank you" as he takes something without asking.
As we train him to say "thank you" we say it to him as he's receiving something he wants - a cookie, juice, a toy, etc. Hand it over, we say "thank you", in a way that demands an echo - "thank you" he then responds (phonetically: tain-too). So he takes the verbal cue as something said upon getting something. We could be sitting on the couch with a telephone sitting next to us, maybe after just having gotten on to him for getting too handsy with the phone (he's actually called people by just screwing around pushing buttons), but then he'll walk right back up as if nothing was said, grab the phone and say emphatically - "thank you!", since that's the words he associates with getting something he wants now.
And it still blows my mind away into itsy-bitsy pieces that I'm nearly 40, I have a 2-year-old and nearly 3-month old. But that doesn't hold a candle to the fact that I still find myself having to say the following words just to change the boy's diaper: "Honey - where's the duct tape?"

A Show of Concern

We spin yarn on this site about Kole's troubles, foibles, and even some interesting events and firsts and accomplishments. Today, we have a tale of Kole showing compassion and concern.

The scene was in his bedroom preparing for bed. In his jammies and under covers, little Kole told his mother in a cheery voice, "Book! Book!" So Kathy retrieved a book from a shelf.

She then knelt down to the bed to read him the story, but on her descent banged her knee against Kole's bed. Going a little above and beyond the average knee stinger, Kathy gave a bit of an animated hobble was verbalizing some sort of pain or displeasure with her little oops.

Kole responded by laughing, as if his mother were some sort of jester providing one final nighty-night dance.

Kathy, not in a scolding way, simply gave a sad face and responded: "Mommy hurt her knee."

Kole's face then turned stoic with concern, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Waswrong, Momma?" he said in his soft baby-voice, as if he were on the verge of tears, still laying down with his head turned on the pillow.

Kathy responded proudly, "That's very sweet of you to ask of Momma. I just hurt my knee, but I'll be okay."

The book was read, then goodnights and kisses were exchanged.

Whether he's mocking what he's seen from his parents showing concern for Karissa or what, it's a bit of a breakthrough moment that he showed legitimate emotion for his mother's well being.

Thanksgiving 2010

We had Thanksgiving at Grammy and Grandpa Gedy's place, the Wah-Hoo Ranch, in NW Parker County. Karissa spent more than half her time in someone's arms and was loved on by her adoring family and fans. Kole had a great time playing with his cousins Riley and Reagan, but could not give a thorough review of the traditional Thanksgiving feast if he had to. He nibbled at his turkey and dressing and mostly just ate his roll and mashed potatoes, then later some peanut butter and crackers. Strange kid.

Because of the cold and wind he didn't get outside and play as much as he wanted to, or we wanted him to, but he still was able to have a great time and get lots of love from his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. We were home by 9:30 and Kole was straight to bed and asleep within seconds. Karissa took one final feeding upon returning home and slept great through the night.

No Black Friday shopping around here. Nobody was awake until after 7:00am then we sloughed around in our jammies until midafternoon. I did catch a key moment on camera for the first time. Kole increasingly wants to hold Karissa. This request comes from the phrase "Help ... help ... help". It actually sounds something like "Hey-yope ... hey-yope ... hey-yope". We've convinced him that several actions of his are actually helping mommy or daddy, not just getting him to do something we want. He's done this for a couple of weeks, holding Karissa while sitting on the sofa. Only today would he allow me to photograph him and not freak out.

After taking this picture and when Kathy finally took the baby from him, he freaked out a little, wanting her back - "Help! Help! Help!". Sorry, Kole. Karissa needs to take a nap now. He doesn't fully understand now. He does love his little sister.

Many Things To Smile About

I have gone out of my way to avoid putting really, really embarrassing photos of Kole just for the sake of getting a cheap giggle for adult amusement. But, there's one particular little habit he has that must be ... documented and preserved photographically, since it would be too easy to think that it is something we've exaggerated. But - no, it's no exaggeration that we've had to secure many of Kole's diapers with duct tape. If left unattended, in his room for a nap as an example, he will have his pants off in no time. Then, without hesitation, off will come the diaper. There has been one very unfortunate incident with a diaper-less Kole, but otherwise there's just a constant threat of an incident. So, on ocassion, we will have to take drastic measures to secure the diaper.

In other news, we are getting some more frequent smiles from Karissa. We may be on the verge of cooing, giving us some other noise besides a cry. She is definitely more fun to have awake, as she also will keep her head up for several seconds at a time. Her big brother is learning to love his little sister. On a couple of instances, he has actually held Karissa while sitting on the couch. He smiles and has that look of being proud of himself for carrying out such an adult-like activity that he sees from his mom and dad. However, when a camera comes out, he quickly gets nervous and whiney. It's very strange and suspicious. It's like he knows what it is and just doesn' want to be photographed. Strange kid. Must be his Thomas genes coming out.

We Have A Full Night Sleeper!

Last night just after a feeding just befoer the 10:00 News, Karissa finally fell into her peaceful slumber right around 10:30. And then, there was a bit of a false alarm around 4:00am, when she was overdue for a feeding, as she began to cry a bit ... but then went right back to sleep until 5:30! It's a full night of sleep, right at about the 7-week mark!

It may not be a routine just yet, but at least we know she's capable of it. It probably helped that a couple of days ago she had a good sneeze - one of those big blowout sneezes, as gross stuff went everywhere. All kinds of oozy bright gold snot. But, it appears to have been just the clearing of pipes that she needed. She's been breathing without obstruction since and has been sleeping more soundly.

And I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but Karissa - just like Kole - debunks the myth of the swaddle. She won't take it and doesn't like it. It took us a while to rule it out, thinking that surely this is what she wants, while something else is making her cry. But, desperate ideas soon became a pattern - just let her lay as she chooses to lay, on her tummy or back, and put a blanket loosely over her up to about mid-back, beneath her arms. Her normal sleeping pose on her back is with arms up in 'touchdown' position, or when not in her bassinet, she'll spread her arms out as wide as she can. Kole was the same way as a tiny infant, hating the swaddle. But where Karissa would just cry, Kole was very strong and would bust out of any blanket, no matter if the blanket was tightened with knots. The kid did not want to be restrained ... a trait that has definitely transfered over to his current state as a 2-year-old.

I won't call a baby's "need" to be swaddled a myth, but I know that it never applied in our house. The parenting books preach about "learning your baby's cry", which I think is an incredibly misleading expectation to heap on a new parent. A more appropriate sermon should be: Learn a checklist to go down to address your baby's cry. How long has it been since the last feeding? The last diaper? The obvious two. If it's neither of those, stop trying to finger through a mental index of cries from the past and what this one may match, just keep going down the checklist. Could she be too warm, which even the books acknowledge is a frequent foible, having a baby all dressed up then bundled up more with a blanket in a hot house. Etc., on down the checklist. Since Kole taught us that swaddling was a definite option that could be opted out, we added that to Karissa's checklist and - viola - without arms and legs tied down to her she calmed down and was soon asleep.

Halloween Night

It was another fairly fun Halloween. I don't think we put too much stock in the whole spirit of the holiday and it's dark origins, and the conflict of that being "celebrated" on the Sabbath. It's a kid dress-up holiday with candy involved. Simple enough. We did run into a house where someone said they "don't celebrate Halloween" and stiffed Kole of some candy. I understand where they're coming from, but at the same time ... really?

Kole was a fire fighter, a simple $20 purchase at a local party store that didn't involve makeup or any other special bells or whistles to make the costume complete. A cool helmet was part of the ensemble, but Kole would have nothing of it.

Karissa was a pumpkin - an outfit she received as a gift well before she was born, I believe. Luckily the weather was perfect on Halloween so we were able to get her out in the stroller and have her come along. Truth be told, she slept through it all. We tried hooking a little candy pail over her arm in an attempt to rake in more candy but it wouldn't hold.

In an overall update, Karissa is probably over 9 pounds now, eating pretty healthily. She still gets a little fussy at night, but we're not quite ready to call it full-blown colic. She still just takes a while to fall asleep short of midnight then does sleep fairly well thereafter - she's just not a sound sleeper. Well ... maybe she is a sound-sleeper and that's the problem, she's not a silent-sleeper. Throughout the night she'll make little grunts and squeals, and then give the occasional whimper. Nothing worthy of waking up the house - but enough to wake Kathy or I out of a sound sleep. It's something we never really encountered with Kole once he was over the hump with his brief spell with colic. When he was out - he was OUT.

That's still the case with Kole - but only once he gets to sleep. Getting him to sleep is more of a challenge. Even when he's so tired he's dragging around the house - once he gets alone in his room it's like he finds a stash of Red Bull and sugar, then the next thing we know he's doing gymnastics off of his bed. Soon enough, he'll find the plug to his monitor camera and pull it out. It's too bad he's such a busy-body and has to get into so much crap when he's alone in his room. It keeps us from putting any toys out in his room. He'd stay up all night if he had access to anything fun. As it is, he makes do with what he has - his drawers (which he's now standing on, renderring some very difficult to open and shut now), his clothes hamper and the window shutters. The shutters now have duct tape keeping it shut - not the

blades of the blinds themselves, but the outter frame that can swing completely open and shut. If given the chance, he'd open and slam that thing shut from 8:30 till 11:30.

Speaking of Kole, his fireman outfit got the ultimate soiling. On Friday while heading to the house of a dear friend I've known since the 5th grade, for a big kid event for Halloween. On the way - about a block shy of her house - Kole threw up all over himself in his car seat. Earlier he had a snack of grapes, goldfish crackers and cheese, and it was all deposited on his chest and lap. He's a strange kid when he pukes. It doesn't really phase him. I seem to remember kids getting freaked out and cry when they puke. Kole, who's really only blew his groceries three or four times in his life, remained fairly calm, and was not real bothered by it afterwards. Every kid cries after he pukes, doesn't he?? Not Kole. He rubbed his face (smearing the puke into his hair) and looked quite relieved by it all. Go figure.

By the time Halloween came around he seemed fairly unaffected by anything. Still, we need everyone to get healthy. Everyone! That will be a first in Karissa's life.

The Bills Are In

I did this for Kole too, but we finally have all the bills in from the birth of Karissa. It's actually easier just to skip all of Kathy's prenatal care and OB check-ups. We'll just call that squaring-away our deductible.
The first bill in was for Karissa - this was essentially her hospital bill for being cared for and housed for four days. Technically it was Wednesday through Saturday, but from hour to hour it probably added up to just over 36 hours. This cost was $6,671.97 ... and that is the total, not the balance due after insurance.
The next bill was for Kathy - essentially her OB/hospital bill for the C-section and after care in the hospital. Total cost was $10,590.60.
So, the total tab for walking into Arlington Memorial Hospital, having a baby via C-section, then walking out three days later with no complications to speak of and both mother and child relatively healthy - $17,262.57.
I have what I consider to be top-notch health coverage from my employer, entertainment bulldog Fox. I have United Healthcare and I pay top dollar for the PPO program. I won't say what my out-of-pocket tab is from all that, but if I added up every house bill I have - mortgage, electricity, gas, cable/internet/phone, City/water, etc. - the balance from all this baby activity and my out-of-pocket expense easily tops the sum of all those bills, and then some.
Oh ... then came the bill from Cook Children's Hospital for that 3-day nailbiter: $11,948.47, again before out-of-pocket. That's 30-gees in the span of about two weeks. Ouch.
I'll just say this - thank God for health insurance, and for a career that allows me access to it. And I don't mean that facetiously.

Karissa's First Month

The load of two kids is not quite like it was with just one, and it's showing in my blog postings. It's harder and harder to find free time, especially when only Kole is sleeping more than 4 hours at a clip. Some here are considering four hours all told in a night a great night.

The big picture is - Karissa has grown a good bit in her first month, and is already in "1" diapers, out of Newborn. To recap, she was born weighing 6 lbs. 13 oz., but left the hospital at 6-3. A week later she was 6-11. When Kat took her into her routine doctor visit that became the Cook Children's hospital fiasco she was 7-6, then last Sunday when Kathy took her to the doctor last Sunday when we were concerned about her congestion she was 8-12. So, she's growing normally and mostly healthy - though we can't seem to get her breathing completely phlegm free. For the most part she sleeps well, but it's mostly during the day. She's got her day/night thing all screwed up and spends too much time awake at nights while snoozing through the daylight hours. She spends much more time with her eyes open and is noticably observant. When we hold her and just stare at her (and there is a lot of that), she will now dart her own eyes around, as if she's studying our faces and getting to know us. It's cool.

Kole now calls her "kwiss-ah" and is increasingly inquisitive. Still, he's a bit too rough and doesn't understand that he needs to be gentle. He pats her like a dog and sometimes will just squeeze her foot like she's a toy. When she cries Kole likes to mock the cry and scream at the top of his lungs then laugh at himself. That's getting old. For the most part, however, outside of some isolated incidents, he's being a good brother - though we're not real sure he's real aware of everything going on, and that she is permanent.

The next moment that all four of us in the house are completely healthy will be the first. I've had an annoying cough/congestion thing going on that I am sure I'm on the tail end of then crap keeps coming up. Kathy has had a bladder infection related to her C-section, then Kole came down with strep throat last week. Then there was the Karissa congestion thing after coming home from Cook Children's. So, we're adjusting to sharing each other's germs and breath.

Obviously, I've attached video of Karissa's first bath. She was much more agreeable than Kole - while Kole himself thought that it was time for everyone to have a bath, including him, so he was a bit of a turd while all the attention was heaped on his sister. Again, as we monitor his mood and behavior as it relates to Karissa, he hasn't really been overly jealous - openly competing for our attention while we're holding Karissa. He has, though, challenged his mother to what her capacities are at this point. In that respect, the "Terrible Twos" have come out full-force. One day he will defy every rule - mocking timeout punishments, and moments after being disciplined for throwing a toy, will wait for Kathy to relax and get back to feeding Karissa, then will take a toy, stare his mother in the eye, then chunk a toy across the room.

Yeah. It's on. Hardcore.

Then ... two days later, Kole will not let Kathy take a step without him lovingly shadow each step, hugging a leg or looking to be held and cuddled. Kole has become a loving hugger, even patting his Mama or Daddy on the back or shoulder while being hugged. He has his moments, and sadly for Kathy, I get much more of them because I'm out of the house more because of work or travel. Kole now knows the sound of the garage door opening, and will open the house door to the garage singing and dancing the praises of his Daddy. It's an awesome sight and feeling, I can't lie ... until I find out what a shit he's been to Kathy most of the day. So, onward we go with the Terrible Twos, and all its ups and downs.

Karissa continues to be awesome. We just need her to spend more of her cranky awake time while the sun is up, then do more of her 4-hour sessions of sawing logs when mom and dad choose to do so also. All told, when the report card is analyzed and broken apart, we got it pretty good around here and we're thanking the appropriate Authority for the blessings every day.

Back Home ... Again

With the approval of Froggie and Elmo, Karissa was back at home Sunday afternoon - napping after giving up hope on the Rangers and Cowboys.

The final analysis of her illness is this: urinary tract infection, as evident by the sight of Enterococcus Faecalis in her urine - a bacteria/germ that gets into the urinary tract via feces. Much like E. coli, but not E. coli. In the end, we could have had sensors in her diapers telling us exactly the moment she poops, we could change it within seconds, and she could still get it. Poop is going to be near the nether bits in the little greenhouse confines of a diaper one way or another.

One weird twist is that the doctor said there were such low traces of this bacteria, it was as low as many other germs often found and classified as "contaminants", introduced by the catheter. So, in reality, possibly, the germ they found could have come from the catheter - and her fever was just caused by some other virus that Kathy, Kole or I gave her.

That's all water under the bridge. Eventually they did find something and kept her to treat it. She was discharged today (at 10:00am on 10-10-10, oddly enough) and came home and that's that. She will have to go back in and have a test where she will again be catheterized, they will inject a dye into her bladder, then the process is essentially a flouroscopy of the dye - watching the muscles pee the fluid out, making sure that no fluids are going in reverse - back into the bladder. That would help explain some of why bacteria was allowed to get up her uretor - if that's what happened. Again, the germ they found very well could have been a contaminant of the instrument used to catheterize her the first time. Whatever. Prescribe my girl some drugs, tasty little fluids that get injected into her mouth, let her heal at home and leave her alone.

Now - Kole is as sick as a dog. He's been hacking like he just smoked a pack of Benson & Hedges Menthol 100s. He has a snotty nose and is too young and too much of a boy to care so he takes his hands, wrists and elbows and rubs the snot around his face from ear to ear. It's cute but ... he's sick and it shows. His eyes are tired and red and he'll likely see a doctor tomorrow if nothing improves from the over-the-counter medicine we're dousing him with.

It's been an interesting past few days, but again we find ourselves thankful for Joan putting everything she has on hold to help out and stay with Kole, as well as all the friends and family who kept Karissa and our little clan in their prayers. But, nothing can make me as thankful for the scene right now - all four of us under the roof we call home, snotty faces and all. We're a nuclear family once again, a little wobbled and dazed, but I got to have my moment in our comfiest chair with my wife and son on my lap with my baby snoozing inches away. All is right with the world again.

Update - Saturday night

Not that it's horribly bad news or that Karissa's condition has taken a turn for the worse, but Karissa will stay at Cook Children's Hospital yet another night.

The diagnosis is still UTI - urinary tract infection; however, it was not E. coli they found in her urine yesterday but Enterococcus Faecalis, which is just another germ/bacteria that can get into the body through the ureter and cause an infection.

So, I just got to the hospital, sent Kathy for a night of sleep in her own bed for the first time in three nights, and I'll do the nighttime shift here. Earlier today I worked the Texas Tech-Baylor game on our air. The game was at the Cotton Bowl and kicked off at 11 am. So, I was there this morning, got out around 4:00, got home and only got to spend no more than 15 minutes with Kole - who had been watched by Joan again for the day. Kole was sitting at the dinner table having a snack as Joan prepared his dinner and I leaned down to tell him goodbye. I knealt to his side and said cheerfully, "Okay boy - be good for Grandma!" And in an instant he had figured out that I was leaving again, began crying loudly and clutched onto my neck like he never wanted to let go. It absolutely tore my heart out. I gave him a second look to tell him he'll be fine and tears were streaming down his face. Not only has he been battling a cold and feeling like crap, but I really do feel sorry for him and wanted to just gobble him up and kiss his head for the next 10 minutes. This really has been a huge transition for him, and within the past four weeks he has begun school, then came the birth of Karissa and the revolving door of family watching him and keeping him for the night. All trusting family who loves him more than he knows, but especially over the past three weeks there have just been large chunks of time spent without Kathy and I together with him and I think he's finally figured out that he doesn't care for it too much. Then comes the guilt on our part that when we do spend time together with him, there is the fact that a) he's a 2-year-old, b) there's a whole new set of rules when Karissa is around, c) Mom and Dad are spending a little more time than normal getting on to him and disciplining him. At the same time, he's probably just starved for the attention that he is now noticing is whittling away a little bit at a time from one or the other of us.

Poor guy. He'll be okay, and get through this just fine. Unfortunately, it's Karissa who we're most concerned about now since she's in a hospital instead of being at home. One more good night of antibiotics and we should be able to get her out of here tomorrow.

Until then - I have the Rangers playoff game on, flipping over to the Colorado-Missouri football game, and obviously my laptop so I can keep in touch with everything else. Might be a little boring, but Kathy has done this the last two nights and it's time for me to get my turn.

Update - Friday Night

Results from Karissa's urine sample came in today and there was evidence of a urinary tract infection. There were signs of E. coli in her urine, which is the easiest sign of it.
If all other tests (the bacterial tests from the spinal tap, etc.) are negative in the morning, then she'll be released and be back home by mid-afternoon. We're told that this is very common - especially for girls - and indeed there was another little girl two doors down with a UTI. That girl was just 11 days old, where Karissa is 16 days.

She's been so good through all this. It's still painful to see her in her little arm cast which keeps her IV in place, but she's been alert much of the day and she is increasingly keeping her head up for several seconds, swivelling from side to side and examining her surroundings.
I arrived at the hospital this morning after dropping Kole off with my dad and Kay, then came up to relieve Kathy before 10:30 am. She was able to come home, shower and rest and gather some things, then was back up by 5:30 to take another night shift. I offered, but she said that if she were at home she probably wouldn't sleep anyways, wondering how things were going back at the hospital. So, I picked Kole back up and got home - he was wiped out! I barely got through the door and he was taking off his shoes and running to his bedroom door saying "Nap! Nap!" Holy Jeebus - he's never requested sleep! So, I had him in bed, re-told the harrowing story of the Little Pigs again ...

Quick Aside: Why do classic children's tales have to be re-written? In this book Kole has, and there's no telling who gave it to us, or which garage sale we bought it from, there's no more wolf-to-pig banter of "Little pigs little pigs - let me come in! ... (pig) Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin ... (wolf) then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!" Was that deemed racist or sexist or insensitive to Muslims or Eskimos or transvestites? It's a classic passage that kids like me save to memory.The story now - or at least in the book Kole has - the wolf walks up and says "Let me in or I'll blow your house to smithereens!" The pig has no quick-witted retort, and in the next paragraph the wolf blows the first two houses to smithereens. I can't for the life of me think of why those passages needed changing - and for some other reason, it's obviously still bothering me!

... so anyway, the boy was down and asleep after a good day with Paw Paw and Gram. I called Kathy and Karissa had been asleep basically since I left. Things are looking up, and as long as the tests are negative in the morning we'll have our little girl back home where she belongs.

You Just Never Know What May Come Next

Today Karissa went in for what was to be a regularly-scheduled doctor's visit with Dr. Hampton - her pediatrician. Kathy's mom joined her on the way up there and I went to work. It was all supposed to be fairly routine for an exam and a vaccine shot or two. She weighed in a 7 lbs, 6 oz.
Then Kathy called me at 10:37am to tell me that they checked Karissa's temperature (at Kathy's request) and discovered that she had a fever of 101.2, at which point the staff informed her that when a newborn that young (4 weeks or younger) has a temperature over 100.4, it crosses some magical threshold to where the baby needs to be brought to a children's hospital for further tests and observation. It was not a suggestion. Kathy knows Ft. Worth better than Dallas, so she picked Cook Children's Hospital in Cowtown. Boom. It happened that fast. It's a call I wasn't counting on taking - Kathy in a faint and quivery voice telling me that Karissa has been ordered to go to a hospital.

When a newborn is that young, the internal system isn't advanced enough and there is a potential for something bacterial in the bloodstream to reach the brain. So, this was merely to see if Karissa had anything bacterial or if it was just a simple virus that caused her fever to rise. I know I've been hacking and sneezing around the house lately from allergies; Kathy has had her own illnesses here and there related to the pregnancy and breastfeeding; and Kole after he wakes up in the morning or from a nap frequently coughs like a 2-pack-a-day smoker, and of course he will sometimes cough 10 inches from where Karissa is laying without covering his mouth. So, we're all suspect for giving her something.

Our little princess was given a spinal tap, had an IV in one arm and had blood taken from the other. She was a little trooper, calming soon after the pierce of the needle. Being a children's hospital they know a fair amount of tricks - and for a baby Karissa's age and size the trick is to dip a pacifier into a sugary liquid, then as the needles make their entrance the baby is feverishly sucking away. Karissa was doing so and survived the poking well enough. They immediately gave her Tylenol and an antibiotic and her temperature was back normal in no time. Basically, from the spinal and blood work, they'll be tested for bacteria. I don't know the exact chemistry of it all, but I guess from what they tell us samples need to sit in a petri dish for 24-48 hours to culture and see what bacteria, if any, is evident.

Kole and I went up this afternoon, and as much as I want to play down the urgency of Karissa being hospitalized - and how indeed it is precautionary - nothing could have prepared me for the site of my little 2-week old angel with a bandaged right arm where her IV was placed, plus with other wires coming from her - though those were simply adhered to her skin to keep her heart rate. All this not even 12 hours after I sat on the sofa feeding her a bottle at 7:15 this morning.

I held her and tried to keep myself together since Joan was in the room, but did find myself ducking behind the bassinet as a shield to have a quick moment with my girl and a quick and stern chat with God and to let my eyes drain a bit. After about 10 minutes everything didn't seem so bad, especially after getting the update from the nurse that Karissa was doing as well as she could and was essentially healthy - but was just spending the night while waiting for tests.

Kathy gets Mom of the Week honors for basically catching this on her own. She was at Dr. Hampton's for the regularly scheduled appointment and had to suggest to the nurse that they take Karissa's temperature. She told them that she felt hot - maybe just from being over-clothed, or something, but she definitely felt hot to her. The nurse didn't say "No", but said something that tried to explain away why she may have felt hot. Kathy wasn't fist-pounding persistent but did follow by saying something else before the nurse finally appeased Kathy by taking the baby's temperature. When they discovered Karissa's fever, surprising even themselves, they credited Kathy's "mother's intuition".

At Least One Kid Is Doing Well

Today we brought Karissa in for a 1-week check-up with her pediatrician, Dr. Hampton. Luckily, her weight has shot back up to 6 lbs, 11 oz; and where that's down from her birth weight of 6-13, it's up from her Saturday hospital discharge weight of 6-03. I've mentioned how Karissa did not take to breastfeeding very well, and we are now giving her a combination of Kathy's pumped breast milk and formula. That has helped her weight rebound and officially clear her of concerns in the mind of Dr. Hampton.

Same for her jaundice. Karissa has pretty much been camped out in a Papasan seat on our coffee table with indirect sunlight from a window splashed on her throughout the day. Yesterday we spent a little over a half-hour outside (Karissa under an umbrella) for a better dose of indirect sun. The doctor called her jaundice a "non-factor" with a quick eyeball test and never inspected further with a magnifying instrument.
Karissa did measure 20 inches, which is an increase of an inch in six days. That makes the fact that she's put on 8 ounces even better.

The doctor (as they are taught to do, I presume) complimented Kathy and I and sung our praises for the baby's health and weight recovery. It was nice of him, but we're not handing ourselves parenting gold medals just yet.

Which brings us to our other child ...

OH YEAH - THERE'S ANOTHER KID
Poor Kole has been a trooper adjusting to this new life. He's been happy and cooperative around Karissa. There's been no instances of hitting her or being rough around here like we thought. However, today was school day for him and some interesting red flags were raised again that may signify that his needs may have taken a backseat in the past couple of weeks.

As the day started - I had graveyard-shift feeding duties, while Kathy slumbered in Ambien-land. I hit feedings at 11:10 last night, then 3:00am then again at 6:00am, right as Kathy was awakening and ready to take over. I caught bits and pieces of maybe three hours of combined sleep, but right after Kathy took over I went into a coma until Kathy woke me up at 8:40, reminding me that Kole had to be at school at 9:00. I barely remember the car ride over - and took Kole to his class while guzzling coffee like a marathon runner takes Gatorade at the finish line. I came home and that's when we went to the doctor's office.

Upon picking Kole up I realized that he wasn't exactly ready for his GQ Kids cover-shoot. His toes were hanging off his sandles and his pants would not stay up around his waist.

Two things caught up with us: some obvious housekeeping items we've been putting off while attention to Karissa's needs have taken forefront; plus - the morning temperature was in the 60s as the Fall approaches, as it was one of the coolest we've seen since maybe April. So we had Kole in jeans that were probably purchased several months ago but never worn because we've been in shorts weather so long and the waist bands hadn't been adjusted accordingly; and the shoes (sandals) we've been pushing until we could go out and buy him some cooler-weather (closed toe) shoes. The combination of unexpectedly-early cool weather and the whole Karissa affairs of the past 2-3 weeks conspired to create one big pathetic and hilarious beyond belief ordeal this morning. On top of all that, the kid has had a recent growth spurt - and that's not an excuse. His frigging toes were not hanging off his shoes two weeks ago! Still ... I mean, it didn't kill him so we're allowed to laugh, aren't we? Kathy up from her Ambien-haze getting him ready, then me like a zombie on less than 4 hours of sleep dragging him up to school - and neither of us noticing was icing on the cake.


I will not be short-changed for making up excuses, and it's the best laugh these sleep-deprived, slap-happy parents have had in a few days.

Then and Now

I could overwhelm this blog space, already, with comparisons of then and now. Kole sitting in his swing two years ago on the day we brought him home ... Karissa in the same swing yesterday.
Yadda ... yadda ... yadda.
Could go on and on, but here's one more hospital shot that was purposely staged a bit to capture something similar to the magic moment I got with Kat and Kole two years ago.

The Light at Home

I could have/should have made this update yesterday, but we had our hands full. I’ll see if I can back-track and give you the day as it unfolded on Saturday.

Kathy didn’t sleep again the night before, as her sister Dawnell stayed the night with her in the hospital helping out. Narcotics for pain usually knocks out most people. But, for Kathy is does the opposite. It’s like a ‘5-Hour Energy’ shot. So, her options are to stay on her meds to feel better – and have it absolutely deprive her of sleep; or cut back on meds in order to sleep and feel worse. It’s a punch in the face or a kick in the crotch. And on Friday night (into Saturday morning), Kathy was determined to stick with the diligent program of breastfeeding Karissa at every opportunity throughout the night. Karissa simply isn’t latching on good, despite the best efforts and seemingly round-the-clock assistance from hospital lactation specialists. By the time I showed up on Saturday morning, Kathy had had a rough night. Karissa, as it turned out, was down to 6 lbs. 3 oz. – 10 ounces below her birth weight, but which was still not more than 10% of her original birth weight so we were still on schedule to be discharged. Kathy was actually cleared to leave early on in the day, but Karissa was going to be a close call with her weight and also since she was showing some jaundice.

By Noon, everyone had the clear to leave, then it took another two or three painful hours in order to get all the paperwork done for us to leave. Kay (my stepmother, Kole’s ‘Gram’) was with Kole back at the house, making it a complete full-circle of Grandma duty for the week. There were several key players that made this entire feature film possible. But where Kathy and Karissa had their names on the marquee as the stars of the film, the three grandmas were the directors and producers with the most important behind-the-scene roles, as well as Aunt Kelley and Aunt Dawnell. All sacrificed their time, effort and personal bank accounts to make sure that Kathy, Kole and myself were cared for – during and after the whole birth process. It’s love that is shown with actions, not words, and we are forever grateful.

We actually arrived home by about 4:00 in the afternoon, and immediately had to hit the ground running. Since Karissa isn’t latching onto Kathy’s fun-feeder, she’s pumping her milk so we can give that to her with a bottle. As of now, more than 50% of what Karissa’s eating is breast milk and formula is just supplementing where Kathy can’t keep up. Pumping also helps Kathy, as her jumblies are becoming more and more engorged and she’s actually producing quite a bit – an ounce or more for every 30 minutes of pumping. Karissa’s only taking about two ounces, or maybe a little more, per feeding.

Kole has taken to Karissa very well since we’ve brought her home. Where at the hospital it was a different story, he has been very receptive to her around here. He smiles and talks to her and gently places his hands on or around her. When she cries he gets a little freaked out, but eventually he starts mocking her cry and giggling.

And I almost hate writing this (big knock-on-wood) but last night Karissa was as good as she could have been. After a 10:30pm feeding, she awoke and cried for feedings around 1:30am and 4:00am and pretty much went right back to sleep afterwards. I did both of those graveyard-shift feedings, as Kathy took Ambien and tried to get some sleep. On both of my feeding shifts Karissa pooped her diaper – and peed on her onesie, needing changes on both. So, as that goes, both feedings took a little more time and effort than I hoped, but as I said – both times she rewarded us by going right back into a peaceful slumber.

Thankfully, my mother ran into a garage sale around our neighborhood while watching Kole on Wednesday/Thursday where a woman was selling baby clothes – including some Preemie onesies. Karissa actually fits into those best right now. The outfit we picked out for her to come home in swallowed her up. She is an itsy-bitsy little girl, but she is beautiful beyond belief, she is healthy, and she is now eating well and has spent most of today in her Papasan sitting on our coffee table with all the blinds open – getting some indirect sunlight, which will help her jaundice situation.

We covered all our bases as best as we could before hand – one of the benefits of having one newborn baby experience under our belts. We knew a little more of what to expect, then again – the grandmothers and aunts really picked up the slack on all the rest.

We are in great shape and are finally at the light at the end of that long tunnel that we started on back in January. As it turns out, that light was gorgeous sunshine and an 83-degree day with the fresh smell of rain on the grass from the day before. We are in a great place right now. The love of our families bonded together to make this as good of an experience as possible, and now Kathy and I can more easily focus on each other, Karissa, Kole, and the great days ahead.

Karissa Reese Fletcher

The alarm buzzed at 6:20am, but I had already been awake at least an hour. Kathy slept fairly well. She took an Ambien last night to help her sleep. The nerves and anxiety going back to the previous night were still like a thick haze in the house. The nervousness chiefly centered around the surgery, not so much the baby. We've been through this before, and it couldn't be any harder. I guess we were shell-shocked by the first birth experience with Kole ... the 22-hours of labor, the birth at 2:46am, the list goes on. By the difficulty of Kole's birth, this experience had to be easier, and it was.

After the whole house was awake, Kole and I had breakfast at 7:40 and I couldn't help but feel guilty. Kathy was fasting for the surgery and hadn't eaten since a bowl of cereal at 9:30 last night. I avoided coffee to keep from the aroma being too torturous on Kathy.

We were out the door by 9:00 and over to Kelley's where Kole was going to spend the day. He cried a little as we were leaving, which was not something Kathy needed to see. Eventually we got on our way towards Texas Health Arlington Memorial Hospital

I REALLY HATE HOSPITALS

We came in around 9:30 and I've never been a fan of any hospital. The walls are hard, it smells like antiseptic, it's a place where people come to be ill and die and most of the workers are as happy as postal workers. We were taken to triage where two nurses were so catty towards each other about where to put us that it was tangibly uncomfortable for us. Finally a friendly face peeked her head in and said "Are you our C-section?" Kathy gave an affirmative and we were taken to the surgery recovery room as a holding area. Kathy got in her gown and settled into a stretcher. Briefly she wondered if she might hyperventilate. Before long she was put on an IV and a baby monitor to her belly. The anesthesiologist came to visit and lay out his gameplan by 10:45 and this process was officially flying by. Kathy's mom Joan and my mom came before we went to the operating room, so it was good to have support beforehand. Just shy of noon I was brought my surgical blues - gown, shoe covers, hair net and the breath-cover thing. Shortly after noon we were ready to be wheeled around the corner to OR2 and it was time to have a baby. I had to pee like a racehorse and quickly relieved myself.

THE SOUNDS OF SURGERY

We hit the doors of the operating room and I felt my face go flush. Immediately, I had to pee again. And it's not like if I was made to I would. I mean - I suddenly had to pee just as urgently as I did three minutes ago back in the recovery room. I quickly realized that I did not want to chance leaving and decided that if I peed on myself I'd be covered by the gown and it may not be immediately noticeable. This is what's going through my mind as Kathy is being wheeled into the sterile room that is the actual operating room. I hate hospitals.
C-section, no matter how many moms talk about how quick and convenient they are, is still surgery. Doctors and assistants are scrubbing up to their elbows. The place is sterile down to the clamps that allows the doctor to manipulate the lights - fresh cracked out of a sterile package. First Kathy was sat straddled on the side of the bed while the anesthesiologist did his thing numbing her, then it took another 15 minutes prepping different elements of the surgery to come. I was finally allowed in at 12:20, sitting in a stool beside Kathy's left side by her head, right in front of a blue sheet that went across Kathy's body just below her shoulders. I was not told Do not look over that sheet, but I was informed that it would probably not be a good idea and it was mostly discouraged. Good enough. Don't tell me I can't, just that I shouldn't. Fine.

What entailed next was surgery - plain and simple. Doctors mumbling things to one another underneath their breath. Lots of numbers - requested by Dr. Robert Krombach, ObGyn, at the controls at Kathy's belly, then barked out by an assistant or the anesthesiologist behind Kathy's head and to my right. I only could see Kathy's face with an oxygen mask on, and could only smell my own breath within my little facemask. And unfortunately, from nerves or whatever, my breath smelled like the hind quarters of a warthog. That left only the sense of hearing to interpret what was going on. The sounds of the doctors communicating in code to one another. The sounds of scissors snipping. Geez, I can't get that sound out of my head. Like a barber shop, the sound of scissor blades smacking - over and over again. When the surgery instruments were put back on their tray it sounded like an auto mechanic throwing a wrench into a toolbox - thick, heavy metal clanging loudly. And then there was the suction. Imagine being at the dentist and having that suction tube around - hearing it hiss lightly in the background until it finally runs into liquid then gurgles and chokes loudly on it. Now imagine that sound being twice as loud, and the tube being twice as large. I finally took notice of the tube to Kathy's right, pumping thick red fluid just after I heard the suction tube gargle. Gross. I hate hospitals! Then I noticed a little Christmas-tree-like apparatus that they kept stuffing bloody towels into - carefully, and only one or two towels per pouch. As it turns out, they have to have a count of towels when they're done, and it better be the same number of towels they started with. If not, the mommy will have to be cut back open. Real Discovery Health Channel horror-story stuff, but not very common. Actually things were going as well as they could for us, and the doctors kept remind us of it. I was doing my part encouraging Kathy and reminded her that God was in the room with us and everything was going to be alright.

SHE LIVES

There was no big countdown to anything. It's not traditional labor. There's no pushing, no orders from the doctors to do anything. Krombach only gave encouragement to Kathy and "not much longer" updates. Otherwise it was medical CB-radio yackity-yack in a sterile room full of people in blue gowns wearing masks. Then without warning, almost out of nowhere, amid all the surgical machinery and chatter between people who held important degrees, there was a slight - yet unmistakable - brief, beautiful squeal.

Viola. We had a little girl.

After the quick squeak, Kathy says my eyes were like saucers. I immediately jumped up and saw Krombach hold her up - bloodied and tiny, as she began shrieking. Karissa Reese Fletcher had just made her grand entrance into the world.
My first reaction, mentally - Wow, she's a lot smaller than Kole was!
We thought she'd be smaller, but she just looked so itsy-bitsy. A nurse took her from Krombach and said something like "Who's got the strawberry blonde hair?" Neither of us do, but Kathy has dishwater blonde hair. I had a moment with Kathy then quickly went over to inspect Karissa. It's the spot I hated being in - be with Kathy, or the little girl, but not both at the same time. I went back and forth, but had some quick moments with Karissa, holding her hand while the nurse wiped her down - just like I did with Kole. All the while, Kathy was being stitched back up. I caught a quick glance and didn't care for what I saw. Surgery is a gruesome ordeal. Karissa was weighed and measured (6 pounds, 13.1 oz, 19 inches at 12:32pm). Eventually we were able to hold Karissa up by Kathy's head and the anesthesiologist (Dr. Meller, by the way) snapped a couple of pictures for us. Since Kathy was strapped down I did most of the holding of Karissa for the time we were in the OR. When it was finally time to be wheeled out she was put in Kathy's arms - trembling fiercely from the drugs she was given.

We rolled back to the recovery room about 25 minutes after Karissa's first squeal. Kathy's hands were trembling, but all the grandparents were there and love was in the room.

If I had to lean on a Bible verse to sum up the day, and I've given this much thought beforehand, I'll go with James chapter 1. The entire chapter is just 27 verses, a quick and highly recommended read, and is a perfect motivational speech for daily life given by James, the good book's ultimate straight-shooter. In verses 17 and 18 he says: "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created."

Amen, brother.

Today's just a day to sit in awe and wonderment at the process of a life being created. Without being rude or confrontational, I wonder how a parent, a person who's been through this process, can still be Atheist or agnostic. That somehow this was not the creation of a powerful God, but simply some tradition of procreation passed down from apes and fish and - down on the basement tip of that Evolution inverted pyramid - single cells, which appeared in a scientifically-explainable fashion after swirls of 10,000-degree galactic gasses coincidentally formed the earth.

I don't buy it and don't need to. Today was the conclusion of one of God's great miracles - life itself. He gave us a really good one, and this has been one heck of a great day.

The Birds of a Hurricane

As the stories go in coastal towns, the calm in the eye of a hurricane is anything but. The wind is absent and there is an eerie cone of pleasant sunshine within the inner walls of the violent storm. But what happens in that space of time before the other side of the storm hits is a chance for locals to assess damage, reinforce boarded windows and battened hatches, possibly even dash for higher ground. Belying the sense of calm in the air, there is a frantic race against time.

And then there's the birds. By the thousands upon thousands, birds are chased inwardly to the hub of the spinning storm-wheel, flocking almost apocalyptically. They don't nest and the only thing to really feed off of is the sense of desperation from the people trying to brace for safety with one eye on the sky.

There is an equally eerie calm in the center of a hurricane that is the birth of a child. In the initial bands of the storm are the endless purchases and transformation of the home and body of the mother. That's a storm, trust me. On the other side of the eye is the birth and first breaths of a new life. That's a storm that can be strong and nasty, before eventually moving quickly on and giving way to sunny skies.

Right now Kathy, Kole and myself sit in the eye of the storm, enjoying the sun and reasonable calm.

And then there's the birds. The thoughts, dreams and concerns of what's coming. Birds of different sizes and colors, but birds that can't go unnoticed. That's what flies around in flocks when there is nothing more to put up in the baby's room, stock up on at Costco, Thank You note to write, bow to tie, 'i' to dot or 't' to cross.

The air is still in here but there are many, many birds.

The First Clue

People have wondered about the name of our next child, but really I gave it away here - on the second post I ever made on this blog, even before Kole was born.

Kole Goes To School

I'm way behind on this, but Kole has actually had his second week of "school". Really it's just a mothers-day-out on Tuesdays and Thursdays at The Woods United Methodist Church in Grand Prairie, where Kelley is a teacher. We figured we needed the benefits of both - Kathy getting some free time at least twice a week, especially after the baby comes, and Kole needs more socialization with other kids his age along with some regular, basic learning from 9am to 2pm.

He's a sponge for words, which obviously has its goods and bads. He's an absolute parrot and will repeat anything he hears. But, along the way, he'll retain a lot. Just yesterday we were out on the back deck where I have a little serrano pepper plant growing. One nice serrano has gotten big and pretty noticeable and turned red. Kole started touching it and I called it "pepper". He repeated the word a few times in his own dialect: "pe-puh". He then ran around the yard, playing the way he does, then about 10 minutes later returned to the deck and touched the pepper again ... "pe-puh". That's become the norm around here.

So, back at school, he's surly learning a lot. It's hard to get a full grasp of everything he's learning, but he's coming back saying things we don't quite understand but figure it will all click in soon. Kole's class is known as the Frogs, as all the classes are broken up to the age groups and there is a Turtle class, Ducks, etc. I should probably clarify - Kelley is not his teacher, she teaches the next youngest kids in the room nextdoor. But, we met Kole's teachers (two of them) at the Open House, and both appear to be very nice, nurturing gals. Each room has a two-way glass window so you can see in. Yesterday I went to pick him up and was 10 minutes early, so I got a chance to watch him play and interact with the other kids. It's actually pretty fascinating. He does very well with other kids, but still has his lone-wolf tendacies. All the kids will be engaged in something and he'll just wander off and stare at a picture on the wall. When a teacher was cleaning up, he gladly jumped in and put toys in baskets, etc. It's good to be a fly on the wall and watch him in a fairly strange environment and be a helpful good boy and not be a whiney little sh**, even if it was just for 10 minutes.