My happy place

"Find your happy place, because you look like you are about to lose your mind" ~ Emerson

I'm writing this while Libby is fighting sleep in her crib, and Enzo is very content on the rocker. I don't feel guilty because I'm not holding him in my arms. He doesn't need to be held more. Actually he needs to be held less since he is beginning to cry every time he feels the pack n' play. Thanks to Emerson, but mostly my mom. 

I'm sad because this morning Emerson left to San Antonio for a week. I'm gonna miss him. I also feel like crying because I'm tired, sneezing like crazy and my eyes itch a lot. Elizabeth has been in the crib for an hour and is still talking... Enzo finally calmed down and is peacefully hanging out in the pack 'n play. These weeks have been something like a blur. This is happening way too fast. 

Grandpa being silly

When we dropped Emerson off this morning, he said that I needed to find my patience, because I looked like I was about to lose it - my patience- that is. I feel like it all built up little by little. Between nursing Enzo, trying to play with Elizabeth, changing diapers, more nursing, and my family, I'm getting stressed out, and kind of mad for every little thing. 

She wants El Raton Vaquero

Elizabeth is becoming a super whiny child. She is being rewarded for every tantrum she throws. If she cries for whatever reason, my mom comes to her rescue and tries to calm her down, which I love, don't get me wrong. But Elizabeth has discovered that whining gets Nana's attention, and that most of the time she gets her way - unless she does something really, really bad-. That crying/I-get-my-way-logic gets on MY way when I'm interacting with my child, and even when I'm trying to make decisions for her. I let it go with the ice cream, but I'm not letting it go with others things, like naps.

After thirty minutes in the crib my mom was asking me to let her out, but she is staying there for at least an hour and a half. I need to rest. I need to stop seeing my daughter running around the house for at least 90 minutes a day. I love my daughter, it's just that sometimes I wonder if I'm doing the right thing while raising her. Emerson is not here, most of the time he is working. And I'm not alone in this, but still it feels like sometimes decisions are on my shoulders when it comes to discipline and stuff during the day.

Nana's love

Shopping

Like this morning in the car Emerson told Libby that if she didn't stop kicking the seat, he was going to give her a time out in the trunk, where it was cold and dark. I looked at him like, "Really? Are you really gonna do that?".  I want to think he was being silly and teasing her, because if not, that's like the stupidest thing I have ever heard him say. And then you say something, and if you don't do it, eventually you are not taken seriously. I don't know... Then my mom says that I wasn't that spoiled like Elizabeth is. She is very, very loved, but I don't spoil her. I mean, I don't reward her bad behavior, I correct her, I discipline her. My mom is the one spoiling her!! And it doesn't help to be spoiled for five weeks in a row.

Stuff bothers me, it bothers me very much. Like the fact that I want Enzo to cry, but my mom picks him up. But at the same time, I should let it go, because my parents won't get to see my children very often. Elizabeth loves Nana and my dad. I feel I'm living in that tension Andy Stanley described. What does love require of me for Libby? For my mom? Probably to let my mom enjoy and spoil her grandchild, to compromise in my own mind. To have priorities right now because at the end my parents will leave, and I will resume living my life the way we have always lived it. 

El guaperrimo

That being said, I felt like driving forever, until the car ran out of gas, after saying bye to Emerson. When I took off, I began singing to Elizabeth and I became her mom again. I honestly feel like crying right now. I haven't felt like her mom lately, but mostly the woman who is saying No to whatever grandma says Yes. When she whines, I get mad, I get frustrated, specially if Enzo is crying at the same time. This morning was so difficult to get them ready, Enzo peed three diapers in a row, and I have to change him again, and again. It's difficult to be thankful. I have to practice it more often. Diapers mean he is peeing, that he is eating enough. 

"Bye, Daddy"

Libby was playing with the zipper, and would cry every time she unzipped her jacket. She even threw herself to the floor crying. After both of them were in their car seats I just felt overwhelmed. I know it's not a big deal, but it is new for me. It was the first time I tried to do it, and it will get easier every time, but it was challenging. Driving home, I stopped at Starbucks, I was singing so much to Libby, and she was happy. I felt sorry for those times when I get mad, she doesn't know better, I'm the adult. This has to stop, and it will stop because I discovered my happy place. 

Pea pod

Pumpkin Fairy

Emerson, Libby and Enzo are my happy place. That's why I wanted to drive away, with a coffee in my hand, a baby who needed to nurse in two more hours, and a toddler who was content that her mom was singing Mi Amigo Hans. I just want to be with my family. I want the doctor to say I'm fine, that I can exercise, that I can resume my life.  

I thought of Kate Barr and how insane she must have felt, and probably still feels with Kahl and the twins. I guess it makes sense now why every time she posts a photo she is drinking coffee, it must take her to her happy place, too. We really should run away together... And I understand now how freaking horrible is to have your mother give candy or ice cream to your children, let alone your mother in-law. I will never mention Chuck E. Cheese's to my mom. Elizabeth won't have a milk shake for as long as I can avoid it. 

All this on my heart with Emerson gone. But it is the best for me to be alone while this is happening. He doesn't need to see me like this. He will come home to a different me, but that's a surprise.

After venting... I need to slow down. It's slow, but I need to slow it more. I don't want to miss a thing, I don't want to miss my children just because I'm thinking we have to get other things done. When my parents leave, I will welcome the dishwasher in my home. And I'll buy a big calendar so that Emerson and I can schedule cleaning and cooking days, because I'm not moving a finger to clean or cook during the week. 

My week will be just for them.  

    

The love of a grandparent

I don't have time to waste. Both babies are miraculously sleeping, especially that little Enzo. He easily got used to be held all the time thanks to Daddy. He has this cry that makes me want to comfort him, and I do, but not all the time. I wrote last time that I don't feel like picking him up every time he cries... except when he cries like this. He sounds like a little country mouse being killed.

Life is awesome. I cannot ask for anything else. I love my children and I know how blessed I am to have two beautiful, healthy children, a wonderful husband, and to have my parents alive. I guess I understand now more about my own parents. There are things I would have never done to myself if I had been them, no question about it; but on the other hand, no one taught them how to be parents, so I guess it's fair to have mistakes. I know I will make mistakes with Libby and Enzo.

Ready to go

It gets on my nerves to see that sometimes my mom uses the same tone of voice with Libby that she used with me. It drives me crazy. Especially the tone of voice when saying No. I make a conscious effort every day not to talk to my daughter in the same way I was talked to, and I've been successful since day one, with two bad, bad setbacks. I've done so great that I can even count them. But I have to recognize that my daughter hears a No from my mom now when trying to climb the stairs and she doesn't even go near them. I guess I just want my daughter to have options, to make her own choices one day. I'm not stupid to let her climb the stairs because it's her choice, no, I'm not talking about that.

Mommy and Libby

For instance, before Enzo was born, I let her play in a puddle and she got all her shoes and socks wet. It was a conscious decision to let her play, because my first reaction was to think, "No, you're gonna get wet, and I will have to clean you, and clean your shoes if they get muddy." So what? I never played with mud when I was growing up because my mom never let me, so my child will play with it, and I will even encourage her to eat it if she wants to. She will get wet in the rain, even if she gets a cold the next day. I mean, I want her to do things within reasonable limits.

However, it's really neat to see how my mom is with Elizabeth as a grandma. She is a very sweet grandma. She is very patient with her, even when Elizabeth deserves to be put in a time-out or when she is throwing a temper tantrum  Why was she not like that with me? 

Ready for the pool... next year

After eating

Like the other day we were reading a book, and I was nursing Enzo. Libby, by accident, ripped off one of the sheets, and I took the book away because I couldn't repair it right away. I told her that as soon as I finished with Enzo, we would put tape on it, and would continue reading. That was the end of the world... Libby ran to the living room crying, my mom came into the bedroom asking me what had happened. She said, "Oh, Karla, she didn't mean to." Then she told Libby, "Come here, Sweetheart, your grandpa will fix it for you, come here, don't cry, leave your Mommy alone."  What the heck? I was made the bad one... I was gonna fix it later, not right away like this child demanded, mainly because I couldn't do it for having a baby in my hands.

Hugs for grandma

"Don't mess with me or else..."

I would've been treated... so different by her, to put it that way. And although I was kind of angry, I smiled, I couldn't do anything else. Several people have told me that the love of a grandparent is so different from the love you have for your children. In fact, someone told my mom she was gonna feel more love for my children than she feels for me. To my surprise she says it is true. I just cannot imagine loving my grandchildren more than I love Enzo and Libby. How exactly is that possible? How exactly did God designed all this love thing that you can love even more? It just amazes me...

It's sweet to see that Libby has warmed up to my mom, she hugs her, kisses her, and goes to her when it's time to wash her hands or brush her teeth, since she knows I'm not carrying her. It's fun to go for a walk and see that Libby wants to grab both our hands to make her fly. It's "devastating" to see how my mother spent 6 dollars on a cart so that Libby could ride it when we went to the outlets. She spent 6 bucks!! Just for the sake of watching her granddaughter ride it... I would never do that for my own child. What is wrong with me? Probably nothing. Nothing.

Crazy about the star

Houston Outlets

Then she bought Libby two pairs of tennis shoes, and a pair of Crocs. I had asked my mom for a coffee beforehand, but after she paid for the shoes and those Crocs, I was like, "Whaaat??" I felt Libby had taken my coffee away. My mom asked me where the coffee shop was, but I told her I didn't want the coffee anymore, that it had been enough with all that she had bought Libby, and I said thank you. After all, she had also bought Halloween costumes for both the children -Libby will be a Pumpkin Fairy, and Enzo will be a Pea Pod- so the coffee was unnecessary. But I guess, I just guess, she also loves me, because she bought me my coffee :))    

On Saturday, we went to a Chinese buffet, and my mom actually liked the food, for a change.

"Good Chinese, Mom!"

"Cheers, Grandpa!"

I'm getting the hang of it now. I don't get as stressed when I'm nursing Enzo if Libby is around. We'll do great on our own when my parents leave. I see and understand that Libby is in her own world, that she can live without me. I'm the one who doesn't want to live without her. I want all my attention to be still hers, but that is kind of impossible now. I still get to teach her her letters, but not all the time like before. She gets more independent play time, and she seems to enjoy it. 

She seems very comfortable around Enzo, she pets him while I'm nursing him, very gently. She also covers him with a blanket. She kisses him. She also pulls on my bra, and spends her time taking my nursing pad out, and putting it in again, countless times. Sometimes she points at my nipple, and I get to explain her that God designed breasts to make milk so that babies can drink it. That one day she will be able to nurse her babies if she chooses to be a mommy like me. I tell her that breast milk is the best milk for a baby, but that  sometimes you have to give them formula. She also smells my nursing pads, and sometimes she sighs. I hope she remembers me. I remember her, and now I'm crying... I miss so much having her in my arms. I love her so much. 

Loving Enzo

In some ways she will always be my girl, my baby girl. It's not that I don't love Enzo, like Emerson pointed out. It's just different. I hope, as time passes, to be able to explain exactly what it is. What I can tell you, tough, is that I try not to think about Enzo so much in between feedings because I have this uncontrollable let down reflex that is driving me crazy even when Elizabeth cries  :)))    

Beautiful

Who put my calculator in jello?

There's an episode in The Office where Jim asks to get transferred to Stanford because he is in love with Pam. Once there, he puts Andy's calculator in jello, but Andy has anger management issues. Andy asks who put his calculator in jello. After nobody answers, he ends up yelling, "I need to know who put my calculator in jello or I'm gonna loose my freaking mind!!" 

You kinda need to watch the video on YouTube if you want to know how I'm feeling... I am a perfectionist. I am a tidy person - although Emerson is tidier- but I love to see a clean kitchen all the time. I don't let laundry to accumulate over tons of days, I cook, I vacuum,  I teach my daughter her letters, I read to her, I do, I do, I do. Whatever happened to the super woman I was? God is crushing it, and I am honestly happy He is. It just feels weird.

Out

Yesterday night I woke up at 3 am to nurse Enzo, Emerson was by my side snoring. I can't believe Emerson doesn't hear a thing. Enzo is such a good sleeper, too. Elizabeth had reflux now that I reflect on it. She would nurse and she would spit everything out. But Enzo actually burps like a truck driver, and goes back to sleep. He would sleep eight hours straight if I let him. But they told me I shouldn't let him go longer than five hours without food at the beginning... and so I wake up. But as soon as he eats,he gets a little bit fuzzy, but falls asleep again until 6 am. Even when he cries, he doesn't cry longer than 10 minutes, and I comfort him with such an easiness I didn't have with Libby. 

Also, when he cries and I cannot pick him up as fast as I would want to, I don't feel my heart shrink with guilt like I used to with Elizabeth. I guess it's just a give and take with both. He has cried far more than Elizabeth in that matter; the fact is I didn't even know why Elizabeth cried. I thought she was hungry every time she cried. With Enzo I feel more at ease with my decisions as a mom. 

I love her so much

Anyway... today has been just like yesterday or the day before. Libby is such a sweet big sister. She hugs him, kisses him, and gives him her toys when she is playing with them. She comes and pets him, kind of rough most of the time, but I'm ready for that. Not today, tough, she kind of hit his head, and pulled his hair... he cried, but he is okay :) 

I'm feeling like I don't do anything, and I know I do. In fact I'm not sad or angry or nothing. I actually laugh most of the time whenever I see it's 11 am and I haven't done anything really. By anything I mean that thankfully Libby and I had breakfast, and Enzo nursed, too. But if it weren't for my mom or my mother-in-law when she was here, I wouldn't have time to wash dishes, do laundry, cook or clean. I feel like I go from one child to another all the time. Libby is really kind when I'm nursing Enzo, she doesn't demand my attention in a negative way. She just colors her sheets, and I am right there with her teaching her, spending time with her. I wonder what she thinks of Enzo... but really, I go from one to another. 

She knows the sounds of H, M, N and S. She can really make those sounds well. Sometimes she mixes the /m/ with the /n/ but who cares? She is not even 18 months old, and sounds the /s/ without a problem. She is so kind. I know I may be biased, but I don't think I am. My mom - who has never interacted with her except for 2 months when she was born - told me she can tell Libby is very kind, that she has a very gentle spirit. That I need to teach her whatever I need to teach her so that people wouldn't take advantage of her. I guess Libby reminds my mom of herself. All I see is actually my mom when Libby is so kind with everybody.  

Enzo in the other hand just wants to sleep. I hope this is not an indicator of his future attitude because he will be so lazy. I don't think so, tough. He is nursing well, he's wetting enough diapers, and although he hasn't pooped, I'm sure he will. I don't even know what else to write about except that Elizabeth and I haven't read our Bibles in more than two weeks. We gave it a shot two days ago, but couldn't do it, she began hugging me, and I began hugging her. 

Love my little boy, too

James said, "Do not merely listen to the Word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says". About two weeks ago, probably a little bit more, Emerson told me about something he read on the  Focus on the Family website. According to this chart, my only hope of having a shot in life based on my history, family background, etc, etc, etc, was to find Jesus. It made me cry. Not because I feel like I was a victim,  but because I understood so many things. I understood why Jesus is so important to me, and really, why I do everything I do (or at least try to) trying to please Him. Who knows? All I can say is that my life before Him and after Him is like looking at two different Karlas.

And so I know who God is. I trust Him enough, and know His heart enough to know that He couldn't care less if I didn't get to read my Bible to my child today. It's not like I'm being lazy, you know? I have my hands full. My child wanted to hug me, kiss me... Was I gonna reject her for the sake of reading her a verse? No. By loving her I showed her how important she is to me, so that one day she can fully trust how important she is to God. By being very forgiving lately when she misbehaves, I hope she gets to see how patient God is with us. Of course I gave her a time out today, after the fifth time she didn't listen. After the time out, she went and did it again. I asked, "Elizabeth, again?!" I've been teaching her a sign for SORRY, and  I think she signed it, but I'm not sure...

Posing with her coloring table

She does know how to sign Baby, and she's trying to learn Brother. She's also screaming when she doesn't like something you do. Like today, I let her stay in the high chair because I was nursing Enzo. She screamed and Grandma came to the rescue, but I didn't let Grandma rescue her. Very calmly I explained to Libby that this was the moment to choose right, be patient, and help Mommy. I told her I needed her help, that Enzo needed her help, too. That as soon as he was finished I would let her go down. And of course, she signed DOWN, PLEASE. I smiled, but didn't give in. After probably three minutes, she settled down. She is learning to be patient. Then I called Grandma.  

I really hope all those things I do like biting my tongue instead of exploding, or choosing to be silly with my daughter, or just praying over different things along the day reflect Jesus in my life. Jesus said that we will be blessed if we do the things he taught (Jn 13:17). I just want my children to see that having Jesus in your life is the best thing ever, that is not about having to do, but wanting to do it out of love.

And it's time to nurse again... Oh, well, at least Libby is still sleeping :)  

      

Sharing El Collar de Príncipe, and smelling the nursing pad.

    

The Nunez Family Reloaded

Few things in life have made me think, "I'm not doing this ever again, EVER...". Actually, I guess just two things: Bungee jumping and having a baby. 

After throwing myself to the abyss of 160 ft, I felt like I wasn't risking my life ever again. In fact, I blacked out for the first couple of seconds after jumping. There was a point in my life when I was afraid of dying, and although I'm not afraid anymore -because I know where I'm going- I'm not putting my life in any unnecessary risk just for the sake of a stupid rush of adrenaline, if you know what I mean.

In regards to having babies, that pain is something I cannot even describe because both my labors I have made it without an epidural and with pitocin. They say pitocin makes things go faster, but in my case, that is just a myth. A nurse set the record straight for me and said that happens only if the baby is in the right position, and in the right everything. Well, both my babies stay inside of me for ten hours even after the pitocin was administered, making labor painfully long.

Nursing pad fail!

I'm not having any more babies. And I know, I know you never know... but I do know. I used to think that everything that happens in this life is God's plan for you, but that is kind of a gray area that I'm still working on. God has plan for you, yes, He has one. But that doesn't mean you are His puppet and He's gonna make you do whatever He wants you to do. He gave you a brain to use and the will to make decisions. It's like saying that it was God's will if someone gets pregnant at 14 while having premarital sex. That's not God's will, it is not, it is in the Bible it is not. So why did she get pregnant? Because it is the natural consequence for her actions. Did God let it happen? Yes. Why? I don't know, but it is not His will. 

Cool Libby

Napping... all he does lately 

So... I don't wanna have more children, and unless God pulls a Mary-kinda-miracle, I'm not having another baby. Not because I don't think I'm capable of handling three, but because I don't want to experience that pain anymore. That Eve screw things up for us women, and if you don't know what I'm talking about please refer to Genesis 3:16.   

Anyway, I am still a little tired after pushing Enzo out, but day by day I'm feeling better. I'm not really tired, just... I don't know, my core hurts because I walked yesterday, and even tough it wasn't a workout, it made me remember I just had a baby :)

Stacking blocks the hard way :)

We are so very blessed. A guy I know posted something telling my husband that he was one of God's favorites. Since I don't know him, I mean, really know him to the point of being able to talk about deep things I didn't say anything. I just wanted to say that all of us can be God's favorites. Actually, we are. Why in the freaking world would someone die for you if not out of love? Why would I give up my son or my daughter for someone else's benefit? Nah uh... Only God gave up Jesus because He loves us all. The thing is we are slow to realize that kind of love exists.

I'm learning to slow down, even more. It's amazing how fast my routine with Libby was. I thought it was slow. But no, it was pretty fast. I'm so blessed to have Libby as Enzo's big sister. She is so helpful, so patient and kind, and gentle with him. He is already blessed to have her, and he doesn't even know it :))

  

She will always be my favorite girl :)))

Loving until it hurts

This is the most joyous pain I have ever felt. And I'm not talking about the delivery, I am just the dad.

I love my wife's posts, I think she writes from the heart; uncensored and unfiltered. So in order to honor her style, I will write this post with all the honesty in my heart. But I must warn you, if you didn't like her book, or if it made you feel uncomfortable, you might as well stop reading now and go to Facebook, where everybody has good news about what they just bought or where they are on vacation or that cute new puppy. Most people don't like honest writing, they prefer feel-good stories with happy endings. When Karla wrote her book, everybody was thrilled to read the book and know more about our story; then everybody got a copy and she didn't get a single comment. Not one. Not even from family. I loved her book because it was refreshing, it was a story about overcoming adversity, about success and freedom, all through Jesus Christ. I guess people are uncomfortable when you talk about Jesus, or abortion, or failing a class, or getting stuff for your apartment from the trash, or getting a car as a gift. We're real people with real problems, so that is all you will get here.

The weekend before baby was born I was doing chores in the kitchen (you've heard about nesting before, right?), and I was able to see Karla playing with Libby in the living room, dancing to the music videos on TV; and I remember praying: "God, please don't let our lives change, ever." I felt so thankful to have a wonderful family and the time to enjoy them. Fast forward to three weeks later and now I'm writing with one hand while I hold Enzo with the other one, and I still cannot wrap my head around the fact that I have a son. I wonder if that is normal for a parent with a second kid. Anyway, I tried to get the perfect photograph of Enzo and me writing this post. What I (or any "good" photographer; dropping pearls of wisdom here...) usually do is take plenty of shots and then choose the perfect one, so I took 22 photos just to realize at the end that I had 22 perfect shots:

On Tuesday, October 2nd Karla called me to pick her up to go to the Dr's office because she did not feel Baby moving as much as usual, so we drove there and they hooked her up to the machine that monitors the fetal heart beat and the uterus contractions. As I was reading the chart alone with Karla in the room, I told her: "You're contracting" to what she simply responded: "No", as if I was not able to read a simple chart. Then the nurse came in and told her the same thing. She dismissed our comments and indicated that she would wait for the formal opinion of the Dr. When the Dr. came in, he said (to her surprise): "You're contracting, and you're 2 cm dilated". Jon Gogola, (the best damn OBGYN in the greater Houston area) recommended Karla to be induced on October 4th at 5:30AM, although he said, and I quote: "I would not be surprised if your body begins labor on its own in the next 24-48 hrs" (he was talking to Karla, not me, by the way).

Things started to look more and more imminent, so we began adjusting the final details of our plan: Our friend Merritt would come over and spend the night with Libby so she wouldn't have to sleep over at a different house, 70% of the time she does great, but on the other 30% of the time, you might want to wear ear protection if you're going to be within a 100yd radius. In the morning, Merritt would feed Dori and take her out and and then take Libby home with her. Karla and I would patiently wait for Baby at the hospital.

On October 3rd, before Libby went to bed, we finished reading The art of racing in the rain by Garth Stein, one of my favorite books (gross understatement). It took us about a month, reading a couple of chapters every night before she went to bed, and sometimes well into her sleep. I love, love, love reading to her, I love to use inflections in my voice, make up voices for the characters and add a little drama with my gestures, and yes, I read the book as-is, even with the shits and the mo-fo's and the f's in the text. She knows those words exist in books (and real life, I guess), though her parents choose not to use them in their everyday vocabulary. But she knows they exist. Deal with it.

On October 4th, sometime during the early morning (it might have been October 3rd very late at night)  Karla told me she had felt some strong contractions about 7 minutes apart, and that it was pointless to  call the nurse line because we were going to the hospital in a couple of hours anyway, and that Merritt was on her way already. So I took a shower to wake up, and we got to the hospital at what I think it was 1AM (evidently the shower did not work). We were checked into our room and Jon was called and he gave instructions to administer Oxytocin starting at 6AM. That was my cue to cuddle in the sofa-bed and fall into a deep sleep, because even in these extraordinary circumstances, I'm not a nocturnal animal. I cannot drive, I cannot watch TV, I cannot party, and definitely forget about sex after 11PM. Make that 10PM if I had one beer that night.

Bring it!

I am a morning person, though, and by 6AM I was awake and avidly studying the aforementioned contraction chart and catering my wife ice chips every once in a while. The nurse said that the second babies come a lot faster than the first ones and that by lunchtime Karla would be nursing baby. Karla was contracting about 6 minutes apart and 3cm dilated, but she did not feel the contractions even without ANY pain medication or epidural, mainly because she is a tough cookie and can handle the (uterine) pressure like nobody's business, and this is not just a kiss-ass husband speaking, she is a legend among the nurses of the Memorial Hermann - Memorial City hospital. Word on the 3rd floor is that women in labor light a candle to a photo of Karla for good luck! Although I have never seen this, I believe it is true, and I would do it if I were going into labor myself ;)

Contractions can wait, I need to update my Facebook status.

So I figured I had a couple of hours to kill and I took out my work computer and answered some emails. Two hours went by and nothing, the contractions were still 5 minutes apart and we were at ~4cm dilated. Hmm. Lunch time had come and gone, and no major progress took place. Just keep on waiting. At 1PM I was starving, and I bet Karla was too, but I did not want to talk about food to the woman in labor who was not able to even drink water. Sympathy for my hunger was going to be a tough sell, so I told her I would return to the car to leave my work laptop and when I got to the car I ate an apple with peanut butter in about 7.3 seconds flat.

When I came back, Jon was in the room and he said that we were stalling at 8cm because the baby was facing the wrong way (rotated 180 degrees in the Z axis, if you're an engineer), so they had Karla laid on her left side for 30 minutes and BAM! 9cm. 30 more minutes on the right side and BAM! 10 cm. It was like Sir Isaac Newton was called into the room and an hour later we were ready to push.

I'm going to go off track for a minute here and talk about the lighting system in the delivery rooms. I think it is the coolest thing in a hospital! The lights are embedded on the ceiling in these super-cool semi-spherical domes and it just reminds me of stadium lights, like babies are making a stellar entrance to this world like a football player storming the field. Wicked cool.

Back to the delivery. There were a lot of questions on my mind regarding the orientation of the baby and the impact on delivery, and being as concise and tactful as possible I asked Jon what were the implications. On one hand, I am an engineer, and I like people to let me do my job, because I am trained to do it and do not want to be disturbed, so I didn't want to bother Jon; but on the other hand, I am an engineer and I like to understand how things work. Jon is great at providing this balance and he shared precise information with me: "Sometimes the baby turns on his own, sometimes you have to help them". Got it. We did not talk about it anymore because he interrupted with the phrase we've been expecting for the last 9 months: "It's time."

"I am ready to become a man now, though I realize I will lose all that I have been. All of my memories, all of my experiences. I would like to take them with me into my next life—there is so much I have gone through with the Swift family—but I have little say in the matter. What can I do but force myself to remember? Try to imprint what I know on my soul, a thing that has no surface, no sides, no pages, no form of any kind. Carry it so deeply in the pockets of my existence that when I open my eyes and look down at my new hands with their thumbs that are able to close tightly around their fingers, I will already know. I will already see." ~Enzo

Surprised? Did you think I had named my son after il Commendatore Enzo Anselmo Ferrari? Very close, but no. I named him after a fictional dog. Deal with it.

"When you feel like you need to push, you're going to push as hard as you can". That was my cue to hold Karla's hand and talk to her through the pushing. I did not talked as much as I did when Libby was born. Karla had this under control this time. After about 5 minutes of pushing, baby was advancing fast through the vaginal canal, and he even twisted 90 degrees, so things were going well, until something strange happened. All activity stopped. No more contractions, no more pushing and in this awkward position the heart beat of the baby cannot be picked up so easily, it was like the communications blackout during the space shuttle's earth reentry. Nothing. It was the longest 5 minutes of the last 9 months. We started looking at each other... So... how 'bout them Texans? (we did not talk about football, but we did have a conversation). Finally, Karla gave us the go ahead for the second half and the pushing was resumed. Karla was not quite on top of things this time, she started screaming while pushing (like the births you see in the movies), and obviously was wasting most of her energy in the scream. Coaching time again. I was very close to her ears, telling her I could see the head, and then the face, and I was thrown back in time 17 months. It was the same face as Libby! I thought it was fantastic to re-live the moment, but Karla needed me. I told her she needed to give her very best for these last push, it was getting very close. I had to hold her leg this time, not her hand. The nurse helped push the uterus down to help a baby that was finishing his 180 degree rotation as he finished emerging from beautiful momma. At that moment I thought that I wanted to deliver babies for a living.

Baby came out, started crying and I cut the cord. Baby was placed on momma's chest immediately and Karla saw with her own eyes that it was a boy, she warned us not to tell her, she wanted to find out on her own. It was a beautiful moment, one I will cherish forever, she did an amazing job again and she announced her retirement from breeding at the tender age of 29 years old.

Love it...

Finally! Thumbs!

Enzo and his homeless dad.

Re-living the moment

Love!

After delivery, for a minute, the engineer in me kicked in and I began connecting the dots of this magnificent design of the Creator: Baby was being fed nutrients and oxygen through the umbilical cord from the placenta, so how on earth do you detach the placenta? Because it must be connected to Karla's body somehow. I asked Jon if he just yanked it, to which he responded that it detaches automatically after ~30 minutes after birth. Then the placenta came out, and I was allowed to take a very close look at it. At that moment I knew I did not want to deliver babies for a living. Jon has a great personality to communicate in a human level, and extensive technical knowledge, he is a kick-ass Dr.

Speaking about damn good M.D.'s, we cannot leave Michael Pope out. He is an amazing Pediatrician, no nonsense dude. I remember the first day we met him, we had just come home from the hospital when Libby was born and Karla accidentally ripped her umbilical cord almost entirely, it was just hanging by a thread. We got to his office, he examined her and ZAP! he finished ripping that cord apart and tossing it on the table, he said: "She will be fine, clean it with a little alcohol on the edge,  and I'll see you at the 2-week visit" Ever since, he has been very assertive, speaking in very short sentences giving you a ton of information, and diagnosing and prescribing flawlessly. We love him.

Back to D-day. After getting Enzo's vitals (8lbs 8.5oz; 21.25in)  and settling him in his hospital crib, I went to Merritt's to pick up Libby and take Dori out and feed her. We are eternally grateful with the Gillingham's and we have started paying back in the form of wine, which I'm sure they'll love! I took another shower and I shaved so I didn't look like a homeless man anymore. I have a son to model now. We stopped by to buy flowers for momma and I made the flower store owner to get out of his car, re-open the store and prepare an arrangement out of the blue so we could take it to momma. He did a great job and went the extra 10 miles for me, so if you need flowers, consider giving your business to Sam. We got to the hospital to hug momma and bring her flowers and the rest is history, Facebook history that is. And it will live on forever in our hearts.

I really missed you mommy!

Warming up to Enzo

Your daddy is no longer a homeless man...

Ride home. Nice flowers, Daddy!

I got back to work the next Monday and coming home I remembered driving home from work when Elizabeth was born. I was so excited and in such a rush to get home that I optimized the route to get home down to the lane I was driving on (yes, I'm a geek, deal with it). Now the feeling was different, I was happy and content to come home, but not in a rush and not as excited as with Libby. Does that mean I'm not a good dad to Enzo? I don't think so, maybe other parents of more than one child can provide input on this... but  to me it feels... different. I think I have more on my plate than when Libby was born: more responsibilities at the office, more uncertainty about our long term plans in this country (more on that later), an aging dog, a recovering wife, a raging toddler, 8 fermentations going on at the same time, leading a small group, and relatives at home. I guess it also feels different because it is not a new feeling; I have been a parent before.

Ever since, everything seems a blur, things are going by so fast and I have added to the list of things on my plate: more relatives at home, a newborn, jaundice, vaccines, a dog with a lip infection, and the sudden need for a bigger car. I feel like I need a break but I also feel like I will get that break in about 18 years, and then that woman I live with asks: "Is that blog post ready?"

I have an addendum to my prayer and it is not for less things to do, or for an easier life, but: "God, don't let me miss this, it is going by so fast!"

By the way, Enzo says hi ;)

We're growing :)