Things I've learned about Charlotte

• Charlotte's favorite music is the blues. Specifically blues-rock with heavy beats and loud guitar riffs. How I know this: Once she was fussing, and I played Catfish Blues by Jimi Hendrix and she got very still and quiet and her eyes got big. Later that day, she started fussing again when I listened to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I switched to T Model Ford and she quieted right down. She also likes Led Zeppelin, including (don't tell Sarah) the Immigrant Song.

• Charlotte is capable of trick poops. This is like a trick shot in the circus, where a shooter can throw a deck of cards up in the air and put a bullet specifically through the card you picked (though that sounds dangerous now I think about it). In Charlotte's case, you can wrap her up in a diaper then swaddle her in a blanket then wrap the blanket in Saran Wrap then hold her way out away from you with Inspector Gadget extendo arms and she can still get poop on your shirt. I may be exaggerating slightly, but she does experience diaper containment failure on a regular basis.
• Charlotte likes eating sugar, much to Sarah's chagrin. Before you call social services on us, we found this out in the NICU. While she was on the cooling cap, sometimes the only way to quiet her down was to give her sucrose drops. If you put it on her lips, she would suck her top lip way down into her mouth. If you put it on a pacifier, she would latch on so tight you could probably lift her up by the pacifier if you tried. Which I did not.
• Charlotte has long fingers and is more dexterous than I thought she would be. Exhibit A:

This photo was taken when she was four or five days old.

Wait, Kendall gave the hottest smoochies?

Remember our post, "I give the hottest smoochies"? Now that I'm updating the blog again, I should credit Kendall Pack as Stu's anonymous critic. Click the link above and read it again! It's hilarious!

Kendall Pack, seen here in the middle of an improv sandwich. Photo stolen from Kendall's FB.

Charlotte Kent, born in the futuristic world of 20XX

Fig. 1: Charlotte takes a break from the cool cap to try something different. Taken in the McKay-Dee NICU.

As Sarah mentioned in her post, we had a baby. About a month ago. Now that school is out and I haven't started work yet, I've got a bit more time to update the blog.

Sarah also mentioned that Charlotte had to spend some time in the NICU at the McKay-Dee Hospital in Ogden. Here's what I have to tell people before I tell this story: Charlotte is fine now, and she's done nothing but normal baby stuff except for the first scare she gave us. Sarah is also fine.

The reason for our NICU stay, for those who are curious: Shortly after we arrived at Logan Regional for her delivery, Charlotte's heart rate dropped and they had to get her out via C-section. The doctors aren't sure what caused it -- maybe the umbilical cord was pinched for a while.

Since Charlotte went without oxygen for a few minutes, her pediatrician wanted to send her to Ogden for brain-cooling therapy. (For some of the science and statistics behind the therapy, here's an article from Shirley Wang at the Wall Street Journal. The story told in the article is very similar to ours.)

They flew Charlotte to Ogden and put her in an open-air incubator. A machine chilled water and ran it through a cap on her head. Unlike the therapy mentioned in the WSJ article, Charlotte didn't have a cooling blanket -- only the cap. The open air cooled the rest of her body and slowed her metabolism, while the cap cooled her brain.

When I arrived in Ogden, seeing Charlotte was a huge relief. I'd been crying my guts out on the freeway, alone, because Sarah wouldn't be released until the next day. I kept worrying and wondering what was happening to her. Would there be more unexpected alarms? Would they need to put her back on a respirator? In the NICU, I still felt anxious, but at least I could see Charlotte and if anything went wrong, I'd know it. Her limbs had been purple and grey right after birth, but now they were a reassuring peach color. And it makes me sound like a complete man-child (see fig. 2) to admit, but the blue of her cooling cap reminded me of Mega Man's helmet, and that helped me picture her as a little fighter.

Fig. 2: From Hark! A Vagrant! by Kate Beaton. www.harkavagrant.com

She wore the cooling cap for 72 hours. She would shiver and cry, and then they'd have to sedate her to keep her temperature from rising. The C-section, the NICU and the cooling cap were incredibly stressful, but we feel blessed to have had access to them.

Sarah holds Charlotte's hand in the NICU. This was Charlotte's actual cooling cap. You can see the color  over her ear. There's a white insulating cap over the blue one.

A Farewell to Pregnancy

I can't lie, I wasn't broken up about not being pregnant any more. I tried to enjoy the 10 months (because 40 weeks = 10 months in reality) as much as I could. I tried not to freak out about my changing body, emotional upheavals and lack of wit. I tried to remember that I WANTED this, that it wouldn't last forever and that Steve still loved the blubbering, balloon-shaped crazy woman I often became. But as the days and weeks roll forward from March 28th, I get to relish in the return of me.

My beautiful hunger monster wasn't born the way I had imagined. We went to the hospital at 3 p.m. and she was born at 4:12 p.m. via emergency c-section. I've never had any type of surgery before. The closest thing I'd ever had done was having my wisdom teeth out. I was wiggin' out.

In the following week, Steve and I went through a myriad of emotional, spiritual and physical ups and downs. I had surgery, we were down in Ogden and Charlotte was in the NICU. She's a normal, growing baby girl now but I was so overwhelmed in those first days – it was like living someone else's life for a while. But, almost more crazy than the way she was born is how she has, unknowingly and with no ill will I'm sure, made our lives all about her.

I think listing a few of the thoughts I had about her BEFORE she was here will set up her non-hostile takeover of our lives:

– I was praying and hoping for a calm, happy and SLEEPY baby. I need sleep. I can hear so many people saying "Well so do I. Everyone does, stupid." No, no, no... What I mean to say is I NEED SLEEP. I've had struggles with anxiety and depression for years but one of the best preventative measures and remedies is sleep. Consistent, mostly uninterrupted sleep. So I was hoping she was sleepy and that somehow no one would get bludgeoned by a crazy she-demon.

– I have always assumed that the moment your baby is born, your heart cracks open and creates a new chamber labelled "my sweet angel baby." Not so. Not even close. First of all, I didn't get to see her for an hour after she was born, then I held her for about 20 minutes and didn't hold her again for three days. Not a great start to bonding. Then it was the ultimate surreal experience when I did see her – to think she was MY baby, like, she came out of my body where she'd been growing for months. I'm still pretty new to the idea that I am a mother and sometimes I still wait for the real mom to come in and say she's back from shopping and I can go home. It's really weird. I love her, for sure, but it's like entering the lottery, talking it up for months and months and then standing with a check in your hands saying "What do we do now"?

– When I was younger, I just assumed six was the magic number of children. My mom had six kids, so obviously that was the best number. My aunts had families of four and six, respectively, and lots of my friends came from families of four, five, six or more. It was the magical time of having big families, I think. Well, the magic is gone. I knew I wanted to have Charlotte, I really felt like I should be pregnant, but let me tell you that the more I was pregnant, the closer I got to actually having my own baby the more I realized that the wheel of family planning had been mistakenly set absurdly high all of those years and dialed back to a reasonable one.

Charlotte after a bath.

I am currently living day to day, not knowing when I'll be doing anything, barely able to plan trips to the doctor, the store or even outside of my house. Steve and I are tired, happy, frustrated, blessed, worried and in love all at once. It's the craziest and most time-consuming adventure I've ever started, but I know that we were supposed to have our baby bundle of joy. I try and remember that feeling of assurance when she's crying because she had a blow-out that barely missed the opposite wall and I haven't showered in a month (which is a lie, but I feel it sometimes).

Obligatory cat post

Shortly after the creation of this blog, I promised you cats. I'm sorry we got so far behind, but we'll make up for it now. Here are some cats and their real cat problems.

King Mars, seen here in a file photo from 2010, obsessed over the recycling. "You can't put that pizza box in there," he would tell his roommates. "It's got cheese and stuff on it. They'll have to throw it away and you're wasting valuable time and resources. Scrape the cheese off and wash the box with vinegar using a magic sponge." King Mars disappeared three months ago. His roommates say they don't need help searching for him.

Last March, Tessercat was struck by lightning down by the Old Mill fishing hole, and now he thinks he can speak to plants. He's on his way to visit his friend Magron the Benevolent, who is a tulip bulb.

This is Marlvolio. He worries about his wife and kids sometimes. Other times he worries about violence and poverty in Africa. Most of the time, though, he sees shiny objects or bits of string and can't look away.

Linda found out her husband is a hitman working for the Cat Mafia. She's afraid to confront him about it, but she doesn't want him endangering their son Meatball. When she sees him lick himself or shred up the screen door, he's the same old Mr. Socks, and she can't understand how someone so normal could lead such a dangerous life. He makes a nice salary, though, and the longer Linda eats Fancy Feline Souffle with Salmon Filet cat food, the less she thinks about her husband's job.

Dating advice is for suckers

The Utah Statesman is starting a staff blog about dating. There's only one post so far, and it's mine. It would fit well in this blog, but alas, you'll just have to read it on the Statesman site. We've got some good posts coming, though -- and hopefully one titled, "How #DateTavin ruined my love life."

Keep Calm and Carry On

I really like that mantra. I've only recently heard of it (although I've confusedly seen all sorts of stupid rewrites that I'm sure someone thinks are clever) and Steve explained it was used by the British government during WWII on encouragement posters. It must have worked because the country didn't tear itself apart as far as I know.

When living life you sometimes get hit by the reality of big decisions you've made, such as: marriage, pregnancy, paying bills, attending school or pretending to be an adult. By hit I mean your heart may race, you lose precious hours of sleep and you devote countless hours of time/energy to worry, "What the what am I doing?"

When I was first married (like first few days and weeks – I'm still first married, really), I thought I had to do things in a certain way so that I could be a successful married person. Have a schedule, be in charge of house things, be REALLY productive, have awesome meals that I just magically knew how to cook, all sorts of ridicules stuff like that. After a few breakdowns and loving words of comfort from Steve, I realized that I could pretty much keep on being me, living life, but now with my awesome hot best friend to give me the hottest smoochies. This was fortuitous, because I was gearing up for a big freak-out with all my silly notions of myself being married.

Fast forward to a few days ago. I'm pregnant and starting to worry about being a mother again. I have been regaled again and again by every mother within 15 miles of me about how "Your life will never be the same," "You'll be busy all the time" and "You'll join the living dead club of mothers who never sleep," and such sentiments of that nature. I very much dislike (hate) when I think or perceive that others are trying to tell me how MY life is going to be, but I was letting it get to me. They're right,  I thought, it's all over now. I'll have to devote my life to Charlotte, stop exercising, eat out of cans and wear mu-mus...
But wait! I'm in charge here. I'm still going to be me, living life, but now with my super hot best friend Steve and a cuddly baby girl named Charlotte. This is going to be awesome. 

So I'm fond of the phrase "Keep Calm and Carry On" because it's exactly how I try to live my life. I trick myself into thinking everything is going to be different and I'll never get to do what I need to when another phase of my life starts. This, however, has NEVER happened. If it's important enough to me, I do it. If it isn't I don't and I start doing something else. I like being 23, married, pregnant and adult-like. It's awesome. My life only happens one day at a time and I can do anything for a day.

Steve gave our brother-in-law a shirt saying "Now Panic and Freak Out" (one of the witty rewrites) for Christmas last year, and though funny, I'm going to try and do the exact opposite of that. Although I think a shirt with both sayings on it might just sum up how I react in real time.