No Coincidences

Tag: milk

  • Ivy’s First 48 Hours

    Ivy’s First 48 Hours

    The first 48 hours, it turns out, is not just a homicide drama on television or the most important time after a homicide, it’s also an important time after the birth of a newborn.

    The first 24 hours in the hospital went amazing.  There’s no better word than amazing.  Ivy slept the whole time.  Beth would have to wake her to eat.  She would eat and immediately go back to sleep.  We were warned of the calm before the storm.

    Nurses would come in and do this test or that.  She cried once when I was holding her for like 5 seconds.  She didn’t cry at all during her first bath.  She looked like she was enjoying a spa day.

    When another nurse pricked her foot for blood I asked if babies usually cried during that.  She said, “well, I gave her sugar water.”  I don’t know what that means but maybe we should be keeping sugar water on hand.  What I do know is there was no crying while at the hospital after her initial couple hours coming into the world.

    We brought her home around 4:30pm 12/5/20.  Becky (mother-in-law) and Jane (new aunt) were at the condo.  Apparently Bengie was disturbed by how we left the previous morning.  He had been acting strange while we were away and licked us even crazier than usual when we got home.  He didn’t seem to notice the new addition.  Yet.

    Becky made dinner.  Jane held Ivy.  Keith (father-in law) came over after his shift at the hospital.  Everyone expressed joy at a newborn.

    The first night was interesting.  While I think she was still pretty well behaved, it’s crazy how small interruptions to sleep can be completely disorienting. 

    We went to sleep around midnight.  Mistake number one.  I’ve been told this by many people, but I think I’ll have to learn firsthand.  Really – take sleep whenever it’s available.  Ivy and I were watching ASU football until 11:30pm.  Beth fed her and put her down to sleep around that time.

    At 2:00am Ivy started crying.  I’ll do my best to replay the events of the night, but Beth and I had great difficulty piecing events together in the morning. 

    I believe Beth tried to feed her, but she wasn’t really eating.  Cluster-feeding?  I don’t know. 

    *Beth update when reading this – she did feed her before I woke up at 2:00am, we think?

    Things that happened, order unknown:

    Beth made a bottle. Beth passed a blood clot. She was upset and scared and talked to her mom. Determined it was ok unless other symptoms/things happened. Beth was upset and having a hard time. I swapped spots with her and laid by Ivy’s bed, which for the first couple months (I think?) will be lying next to our bed. I fed Ivy half of the bottle Beth prepared.

    Ivy was somewhat fussy and always on the verge of crying.  Between 2am and 4am I realized she had a very messy diaper.  Explained the fussy.  I changed Ivy in the other room and laid her back down in her bed.  She was much better.  I’m not sure if Beth was completely sleeping during this time.  I think she was kind of in and out of it.  She was exhausted. 

    I laid with my hand on Ivy or helping to keep her pacifier in which seemed to settle her down.  I think I slept around 4am.  Again, not sure how things transpired, but at some point I woke up because Ivy was fussing.  Looked like she was hungry.  I talked to Beth around 5am (maybe?) about Ivy being hungry.  I think at some point Beth turned the hot air on in the room.  It had gotten cold in the room.  I could have sworn I passed Ivy to Beth around 5am to feed but in the morning neither of us could recall if that actually happened.  Funny, but being serious. 

    At some point I was really hot, and Ivy was fine.  She was sleeping like a, you guessed it, baby.  Really, she was sleeping well.  Interesting we use that phrase to indicate deep sleep when in reality sleeping like a baby is more like up every 90 minutes wanting some attention.  The living room was cooler, so I curled up on the couch and slept there.  Again, at some point (8am?) I woke up to the loud carbon monoxide alarm.  It beeped loud, 3 times.  I saw Beth coming from the kitchen.  I couldn’t fathom why she would make 3 loud beeps happen.  She seemed in a haze.  She ignored the loud beeping.  That confused me more.  I learned Bengie was sleeping on my legs.  His number one fear is loud beeps.  He jumped and ran to the bedroom, under the bed, tried to jump on the bed but Ivy’s bassinette was in the way.  He ran back and jumped on me.  He repeated this 3 times.  I held and pet him and he was shaking like crazy.  When I stopped petting, he ran to the bedroom, found his way onto the bed, and burrowed into the blankets.

    The new addition was proving to be a major interruption to his routine, peace, and quiet.

    **Beth addition number two – “you must have been in a haze too, when the beep went off, I yelled ‘oh –.’” (followed by a bad word).

    I am not denying any sort of hazy phase.  I was a cloud of confusion.

    I guess the morning had started.

    Ivy was peaceful as could be, as far as I could tell.  She’s been an angel ever since.  While writing this she was curled up on my legs/lap in front of me.  Already learning to multi-task. Her pacifier just fell out.  She likes her pacifier. 

    I still got to meditate that first day.  That was big.

    Becky came by and made some food.  I decided to fast in gratitude to Heavenly Father for all this.

    Beth proofread this and told me to insert “I was a Rockstar” talking about myself.  That’s a bit much.  Beth’s done all the hard work and is completely exhausted.  I’ve gotten to sleep next to Ivy and take care of the most important person in the world.  And she’s so cute.  And when I sleep, I get to put my hand on her and be with her. 

    Good deal.  I’ll take it.

    Ivy may be the “Coo Monster.”  She’s constantly coo-ing.  It’s heart-melting.  The cutest little hums and noises.  I love her very much.  It’s amazing how much I like caring for her.  It’s crazy how exhausted I can be already and yet how happy.

    Ivy went on a short walk in her stroller today.

    She loves her swing.

    She loves if I gently tickle her head or face with my fingers.  Her eyes will instantly flutter closed.

    Bengie and Ivy

    I love her.

  • House Pets

    House Pets

    Sometimes I look at my dog and think, “he wouldn’t last 5 minutes out in the real world.”  If he had to go out and hunt/scavenge for food and water, on his own, no chance.  Being cute getting someone to give him food and water would be his only chance at survival.  If that option is removed, he’s a goner.

    Look at this picture. It looks like he just ate a plate of strawberries and his afternoon plans are to lounge and get belly rubs.

    Exhibit A

    Granted, he is an 8-pound poodle/terrier mix.  He wasn’t bred to survive in the wild.  He was bred to be cute and to get people to give him stuff.  I’m just saying, removing that option = goner. 

    I can already hear the “big” dog owners.  “My dog would survive in the wild.  Yours is closer to a cat, mine still has some wolf instincts.”  OK.  Your golden retriever is not surviving a week in the wild without its cute factor, just the same as my poodle/terrier. 

    Golden Retriever Dog Birthday Photograph by Kathy Sidjakov
    Exhibit B

    My dog lives the most cushy life imaginable.  He sleeps all the time.  He wakes up and eats.  He sleeps some more.  He goes on walks.  Then he sleeps.  He plays.  He goes on bike rides.  At 9:30pm he stares me dead in the eyes and I know he’s saying, “You know good and well it’s time for bed.”

    It wasn’t until just recently that a very obvious and humbling fact slapped me right across the face.  I wouldn’t survive a week out in the wild.

    I was looking at my (adorable) little dog curled up on the bed, petting his soft hair, admiring how good he is, being jealous of how easy his life is, when I had that thought.  “You poor pathetic creature.  What would you do without me?”

    Who was I talking to?

    *Slap to the face.

    What would I do out in the wild?

    Here I was in my air-conditioned condo, with a giant Hydrapeak water bottle filled to the brim with ice cold water that I filled from my refrigerator.  That morning I’d poured Berry Colossal Crunch into a bowl, pulled a cold jug of milk from the refrigerator, and had cereal, like a proper grown man should do.  That morning I’d taken a piping hot shower.  I let the water run long enough so that it was plenty warm.  Cold shower?  No chance!  Running water came from a tap where I put a toothbrush I’d squeezed mint toothpaste onto to brush my teeth.  I then sat in a comfortable chair and worked at a computer. 

    Who was I to judge my dog?  I was living the same life my dog was!

    Put me out in the wild without food and water and tell me to figure it out.  Remove the option of me going to someone’s door and saying, “please feed me,” and I had no chance.

    I don’t think we take the time often enough to

    1. Stop and realize how blessed we are.
    2. Realize how pathetic we are.

    What would I do out in the wild without a can opener? Let alone having to hunt and find food?

    I’ve recently read a couple books about the old west.  A story I just read was about an 11-year-old boy who ran off with some Shoshone Indians (Native Americans).  He lived two years with them.  Eating buffalo meat.  Hunting rabbits.  Fishing for trout.  I was amazed at the life this boy lived just 170 years ago.

    Can you imagine if your ancestors could look at you now?  What a pathetic sight you would be.  Your great-great-great-great grandpa would marvel at your fancy light up information device and cans of food but would ask you, do you know how to hunt?  Do you know how to guide yourself by the stars?  Do you know how to survive without your pre-packaged meals and Uber eats? (Reminder- that great grandfather would be so perplexed by Uber eats).

    Can you imagine your great-great-great-great grandmother asking where you keep the chickens?  How do you grind the wheat for your bread?  (Do you grind wheat for bread??? I DON’T KNOW!)  Can you even cook without that radiation device that nuclearizes your food into something *edible?

    While modern advances are amazing, truly amazing; we have become so pathetic.

    That’s all.

    Just thought I would remind all of us of that.

    Next time you look at your house cat, little dog, big dog, or even your fish and scoff and say “you dumb and spoiled animal,” I hope you pause for a second and soak in the irony.