The house-hunt that threatens to break our hearts, and the bittersweet thanks when a mother departs

So, the title of this post is far more dramatic than the reality...but still, if you've ever made an offer on a home and allowed your mind to wander to images of your furniture and your family in it--only to then have that offer rejected--you'll know what I mean.

Add to this the fact that, in Boston, the house-hunting game teaches some hard lessons. For example, on the place we nearly had but lost, we offered asking price but were "beat out" by a buyer who offered the same but with NO contingencies (this included waiving the home inspection). Someone REALLY wanted that house (and we thought WE did)! We just couldn't match that given the home's history with pests...

So, a great (1/2 acre) fenced-in yard, proximity to our offices as well as local shops, and a home with character were lost to us barely a week ago, and it's been a disappointing few days of edging further and further away from the city in order to meet our criteria. But guess what? The commute is one of our concerns! More on this to come, and maybe a photo if we manage to trump the other eager buyers and score our first (true) home. Now that we've been properly initiated, it shouldn't be that difficult, right?

This post is really a mini-tribute to my mom, who left last Wednesday after spending 3 exhausting weeks with us to help with the baby (and--hurrah!--witness his birth). My mom does many things well, but what she does best is intuit what her daughter needs in her hour(s) of need. And if you read the previous posting you get a sense of just how needy I was, especially since I was all but useless, apart from being a feeding machine, the first few days I was home with the baby.

I was more spoiled than a 30-something mother should be; I had 3 other caregivers (mom as well as mother-in-law and husband, and even my dad for a few days) and a "helpful"-as-he-can-be toddler. But my mom knew almost before I did when I ought to eat something, take a shower, or just grab a quick nap between feedings. And just as important, she knew what our older son needed--attention, indulgence even--given the big transition from sole child to sharing the spotlight. He still sings all the songs she taught him during her stay, something I relish hearing if I can keep from tearing up, sappy fool that I am!

So, thanks Mom, for putting up with me and my family, for reducing your hours of required sleep each night (from 9-10 to something like 5-6!), for teaching Fisher to "read" his favorite book word by word and to sing "You're Someone Special" and "Animal Fair" (his favorites) among others, for bonding with little B when I couldn't, and for that gift you have for--dare I say--service to others.

Speaking of gifts, the baby is sleeping so it's time for me to take advantage and rest as well.

Second time around

I'm happy to report that much of what I've heard about the second baby is true: the worry about diet, baby movements, and other concerns during pregnancy are generally minimal; ability to distinguish a legitimate contraction from Braxton Hicks; a faster delivery; a better sense of obstetrispeak, and the buzz words that should/shouldn’t incite panic; and the knowledge that, when you finally come home with your newborn, you're going to cry at least a little, depending on your tolerance for pain and whether or not your husband learned from that first pregnancy to avoid asking sympathetic questions, especially "How are YOU doing?" when he walks through the door after work.

Apart from that, God, the body, and the doctors apparently like to mix things up, surprise you a bit. I was once again subject to a problematic epidural, but unlike the first time this wasn't a matter of partial effectiveness; rather, the anesthesiologist sort of misfired--"went a millimeter too far" as the attending put it, causing spinal fluid to leak through the puncture site. In theory, this doesn't sound so bad, but for the 1 in 100 cases where this occurs, something called a spinal headache generally follows. Lucky for me, I'm that 1 in 100!

Fortunately the headache (caused by a decrease in fluid between the brain and the skull) is relieved almost entirely by lying down—fully horizontal, something not so easily done in the first days after delivery and with a two-year-old looking for some attention. So, at home after 3 days in this state a visiting nurse came to see me. Her simple suggestion to raise my dosage did the trick…for the most part. For the next few days I still got the “aura” of the headache just before I was due for my next dose, but today I think I can safely say the worst is behind us, and thank God for that!

So now we—meaning my mom, mother-in-law, husband, and toddler—are doing our best to provide a safe and relatively peaceful home for our new 8-pound, 10-ounce addition. Quarters are cozy but without the help I don’t know how I (we) would’ve survived it (looking at the pics from that time are hard enough!).

Oh, and reality sets in pretty quickly—though it hasn’t displaced the overwhelming sense of love and protection I have for my newborn—as with the first kid we’re reminded that we have only a vague sense of what we’re doing as parents, and that much we’ve learned from our parents and friends, who also had at best this “vague sense.” Best, I think, to focus on what we CAN control: confirming our spot at daycare, happily occupying our two-year-old to minimize boredom which of course leads to excessive kissing and head-rubbing of his little brother, and finding a house for our growing family. All this testosterone can only be contained in a thousand square feet for so long.