And the Angels Were Silent

I robbed the title from a Max Lucado book. I hope he doesn't mind.

If you've been reading the blog for the past few weeks you know the greatest struggle we've had as parents is getting some sleep while the sun is down. Since Neil and Kaye (Jen's parents) have been in town, they've helped out wonderfully and it has allowed whoever has the "night shift" - guess who that lucky guy is - the opportunity to sleep until noon.

A few nights ago I was able to get her to sleep by rocking her in our new chair, but every time she'd fall asleep she'd wake up just as soon as I made my escape into my own bed. After several futile attempts, I threw her 20 feet to make sure the sleep stuck. When she didn't wake up after crashing to the ground, I knew my job was done.

Okay, I didn't throw her. I did talk loud enough to try and wake her up, though, and even whispered, "We're not buying you your first car," to try and shock her from her slumber. Nothing phased her and I was able to put her to bed for the evening.

And this has been a typical evening.

Until last night. She slept for a full six hours. Now getting her on a good schedule so she's not starting that six hours at seven o'clock and ending at one am is going to be tricky.

But the fact remains: She slept a full six hours in a row.

And even the Angels were silent.

iGoop

This past week we had to call a doctor. Evelyn's right eye had become swollen and had some goop, gunk, junk, eye-boogers, whatever you choose to call it, she had a bunch of it in there. Not just your typical "sleep sand" eye goop, either. This was some serious yuck.

Plus she's been extra fussy the past few days, so we thought maybe she was getting sick. I called our doctor's office and when I finally got through a few machines (I am really, really not a fan of automated answering services by the way - big pet peeve) I got to talk to a very insensitive man who stated that the doctors and nurses were on their lunch break and that unless it was an emergency, I'd have to call back later.

If it was an emergency, I was to stop pestering him and dial 911.

I know it may sound horrible of me, but I kind of - in that moment and not since - hoped that I walked up on that guy after he got hit by a train so I could tell him, "Well, do you think this is an emergency? You do? Okay, I'm going to let you be so you can call 911."

Anyway, we had been cleaning Evie's eye with a wet cotton ball to keep the gunk out, and this turned out to be a great idea (I believe it was my mother-in-law's suggestion, but I'm not sure so we'll just give her credit) because this is what the doctor's office said we should do - after they got done with their trip to Wendy's for lunch. They also said its probably allergies and not to worry.

No, I don't know for sure they went to Wendy's, but I like to assume that doctors enjoy a Wendy's double cheeseburger as much as I do. Thus, in my mind, making those burgers seem healthier because, hey, doctors eat them so they can't be all that bad, right?

The next day her swelling went down and now she has hardly any eye goop (like the title?).

It's not like we were panicking about it, but the eyes are pretty important to people and wanted to make sure our daughter hadn't gotten some infection that will leave her blind.

"Oh, really? Eyes are important? I didn't know that."

Well, okay, smarty-pants. But you've got to keep in mind I write this blog on a handful of hours of sleep at best some days so give me a break when I say something obvious like that.

On a side note, my father-in-law, Neil, flew back to North Dakota on Saturday. It sounds like our friends and family there have been asking a lot of questions and wanting to see pictures. He seems to have really enjoyed his time here in Indianapolis, so that's good, too.

Kaye, my mother-in-law, will be here until Saturday. So we still have some backup when the baby crying gets so much we want to throw ourselves out a window.

Yep. Been a busy week.

Now, just to be clear, I probably wouldn't act that way if I saw that man hit by a train.

Probably.

... maybe.

Meema Kaye and Papa Neil Came to Visit

This past week my mother- and father-in-law have been visiting and helping out with Evelyn. To say they've helped "a lot" or "plenty" would be an understatement. It's like things are running like a well oiled - albeit still squawking at 3:30 in the morning - machine.

It's also just been nice having them here. If nothing else, the insanity of having guests has broken up the insanity of just being the two of us and the baby.

Kaye, my mother-in-law, has helped Jennifer with things around the house and Neil, my father-in-law, has taken my place as the only male in the home to change diapers. Which, I've got to tell you, has felt like a glorious vacation.

It seems like I've had more poop on my hands the past few weeks than in the entirety of the last 28 years of my life combined.

Okay, that may be a lie, but the fact remains that I somehow end up with "Evie droppings" on a finger while folding up a diaper. Either her poop is secretly alive and trying to eat me, or her diapers are messier than they look.

I swear, if it's trying to eat me I will not stand for it.

Also, one thing we have discovered is that a quick way to get our daughter to sleep is sticking her in the car and going for a short drive. We went out to eat with Kaye and Neil yesterday and while in the car, Evelyn slept well with very little fussing.

Maybe from now on at 3 am we can just stick her in the car and go to a Denny's. I don't know if it'd work, but if I'm hungry for a Grand Slam sometime in the wee hours of the night, I'll let you know how it goes.

Yesterday, Neil and I watched Evie while Jen and Kaye went to do laundry. Had Jack never been neutered, we could have made the "3 Men and a Baby" joke, but there's no way I'm "Tom Selleck" enough to pull that off. And Jack's a dog. So that joke was dumb.

Anyway, the past week has been fun. Evelyn has really seemed to enjoy being passed around from parent to grandparent and back again. Even if she hasn't, I know we certainly have had a good time.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there's a poop-monster somewhere in dire need of a talking to.

Top 10 Reasons Sleep Is Overrated

The beauty of this blog is that not only can other people laugh at our experiences, in a couple years when we are planning a second child, we can look back and go, "Do we really want to do this?"

So in that spirit of thought, I thought I'd throw together a little list of things I've learned about the benefits of not sleeping while you have a newborn. Sleep? Who needs it?

10. Without sleep, you don't have to worry about those pesky dreams about building sandcastles on a beautiful beach with Darth Vader and Ronald Reagan.

9. When you haven't slept in the past three days, you make a more believable zombie when you go to impersonate one at work the next day. Hopefully your coworkers won't shoot you in the head! (Insert nervous laughter)

8. Without much sleep you may put the baby's diaper on backwards. This will appear funnier to both you and your wife than it really is.*

7. When you aren't sleeping, you get to listen to a baby crying or the cute sounds the baby makes as he/she slurps down milk. Who would want to hear complete silence in the dead of night?

6. Late at night, while trying to get your baby to eat and thus avoiding sleep yourself, you get to see some great movies on Syfy Channel that are sure to involve at least one giant foam-rubber worm. Who would want to miss that???

5. The lack of sleep grants you some very fashionable bags under your eyes. Boy, your coworkers, family and friends are going to be jealous of those!

4. If you are avoiding sleep alongside your wife, who is currently trying to feed the baby, you may be able to catch one of those rare moments where she does the "falling asleep head-bob" on camera. Then show her friends later.

3. Your wife will not think number 4 is funny.

2. At some point, you will be so tired that you will stick an entire finger into poop and either a) Not notice or b) not care enough to be grossed out. You hopefully will notice this at some point before you decide to eat again, and will wash accordingly.

1. Your baby will wake you up once more in the dead of night in about 20 to 30 years just to say thank you for staying up with him/her while they were babies. They will do this because they are delusional without sleep from their own newborn. Neither of you will remember this conversation in the morning.


Overall, it's worth it, but I thought of a few of these things and found them funny.

If you're reading this going, "Wow, that's not funny at all. In fact, that's kind of pathetic," I would like to you reference number 8. I think its funny because I haven't had much sleep. So, if you want the full experience, stay up for a couple nights, come back and read this.

You'll laugh your head off.


*It isn't really funny at all.

Parenting Advice

One thing I have noticed about being a parent is that now other people who have kids really like to tell me how to raise mine. Yes, I know my daughter cries loudly when she's hungry, yes I know her diaper needs to be changed when wet, you don't have to tell me to be ready to care for both of these needs at 3 am when I've been up since 4. By the way, ma'am, your four year old just grabbed a Twix off the candy shelf here in Wal-Mart and while I'm new to the whole parenting thing, crime is something I am familiar with.

(that didn't really happen)

People love to give advice. I know that I'm probably one of the first to give out unwelcomed pointers when it comes to tons of things - I think it just comes with how I was raised. Ask my dad how to change a light-bulb and he'll not only tell you how to change your fuse box over to a breaker box, but he'll recommend the type, size, brand and even color of wiring to use.

The problem is that now that I am in a position that is completely unfamiliar, people tend to tell me how to handle it. There's nothing wrong with that, I think every parent who has "been there and wiped that" not only has the need to share their advice and experience, I believe they have a right to.

If your son, at the age of 8 months, decided to crawl up to a piece of furniture, climb it, and then jump off and bump his head, you not only have a future stunt-man in your family, the parent who has held him until he stopped crying and put a band-aid on his (probably cracked) skull now has the right to tell a new parent to watch out for this event happening to them. Not only because they are looking out for the new parent's child, but it's almost as if they are older members of a fraternity sharing something with the new pledge.

The problem is, there is so much to tell new parents. I just wish you could just have 3 simple rules of parenting. Like, "Keep them away from water. They hate bright light. The most important rule. No matter how much they cry, no matter how much they beg, never, never feed them after midnight." See? That stuff I could remember.

Or have my daughter turn into a gremlin...

Some advice is good, some advice is weird, and some advice is just not useable in our situation. For instance, someone told my wife that our daughter will have distinctive cries for things. In truth, we have noticed Evelyn has a distinct cry for every situation that she feels is important. It's something like, "Waaah" means "I'm hungry," and "Waaah" means "I need to eat soon."

Yeah, she pretty much only cries when she's hungry.

Even if she needs her diaper changed, Evie usually just grunts or whines a little. Which leads me to think that rather than having a cold wet-wipe on her bottom, she'd rather just sit in her fecal matter. Which is not only disgusting, but almost understandable. I mean, have you ever had a cold, damp cloth ran up the crack of your behind while you were trying to sleep? Me neither, but I bet it isn't fun.

Staying on point, I have noticed that several readers of this blog like to share personal stories. Some are funny, some ... a little too much information. Either way, it is nice to belong to the fraternity of parenthood.

What does seem to puzzle me is that there are some parents who do not relish the opportunity to learn from the failures, mistakes, and successes of other parents. These are the same people who will read an athlete's life story just to learn how to throw a fastball or watch a politician's interview just to learn to communicate better, but roll their eyes and hit the ignore button when someone says, "Don't let your kid eat that."

As if these people actually expected "Raising Kids for Dummies" to fall out of a placenta.

I'll admit, that book would be nice, but really? I'd like to take what advice I am given and chew the meat and spit out the bones. I also would rather get to know my daughter and raise her the best way I can, implementing the advice when I feel the need to. Like the time I told Professor Millen that my mom used to give my sisters and me Dimetapp to get us drowsy enough for nap time. Unethical? Probably.

But a few weeks later the professor shared with me that one night he and his wife had trouble getting his kids to bed. When the kids were finally asleep, the couple sat down and he said to her, "You know, Jeff said his parents used to give him Dimetapp..."

(true story!)

I guess my biggest goal as a parent is that in twenty to thirty years, Evelyn can look back and say, "Hey, my mom and dad did the best they could with what they had and maybe they didn't do everything right, but they did it all because they loved me and wanted me to be great."

I can be happy about that, and if something some other parent does or says helps me get to that point, I can listen.

Yes, I am being dramatic. It's meant to be humorous.

The "Baby Crazies" continue, but I think I'm starting to make the most of them. After last week's post (the very night of the post, actually) Evelyn decided to show that she is not just a baby, she is a force of nature. A force to be reckoned with. Not just a baby, a villain. A horrible villain the likes of which Cobra Commander, Lex Luthor, and Skeletor have never seen.

And she did it with a smile.

That's how the sick, twisted minds of babies work. I realize that now. Babies, as I am now discovering, know that their parents are naive. They know we are gullible morons who believe they only want some milk and a diaper changed now and then.

I now that we are! We are those gullible morons. You may be reading this and saying to yourself, "I wasn't a gullible moron with my kids," but you're only believing that because they want you to believe it.

You must understand their cries are not the whimpers of infants. They are the battle shouts of a warriors in a never ending coup d'état on parenthood.

This is the past few nights have gone:

On Friday night, Evie (now known as "Evelyn the Skull Crusher" by her biker gang) decided to feign sleep from 10:30 pm to 12:30 am. No doubt using this time to plot her next great scheme. Without warning, just like an earthquake, she awoke with a fury so deep and bitter it was almost beautiful in all its glory.

My wife, who had sustained many injuries throughout the day from this tiny barbarian was too weak to continue in the struggle. So I grabbed my weapons and entered the fray. I remember looking her in the eyes, after at least two attempts to feed her from a bottle and muttering something to the effect of, "You may win this battle, but I shalt not die in vain!" An evil smirk twisted across Evelyn the Skull Crusher's face as she filled her diaper with a foul mustard colored stench.

I'll never forget the horror I experience upon opening that diaper. Never.

Every time I close my eyes I still see it's disgusting composition looking back at me as though it, too, were alive. It has been burned into my mind forever.

At the time, I tried my best to use it to strengthen my resolve.

I grabbed the formula I had already tried to feed her twice and with the resistance of a spy who was determined not to succumb to a truth serum, Evie fought back as she guzzled it down. To distract her, I had turned on the television to watch an episode of Smallville I had recorded earlier in the night.

Before the theme song and opening credits rolled, Evelyn, the great villain, the bane of parents within our home had fallen asleep.

I was victorious.

Yes, I realize I am being dramatic. It's all meant to be humorous. Because if there's one thing I have learned about being elbow deep in poopy diapers and sleep deprived, its that if you cant laugh about it you will go crazy.

But I have enjoyed it all, even more than I enjoyed turning that little adventure into some sort of fantasy story.

What really happened was Jen went to bed because she was tired and I volunteered to stay up with Evie. She cooed and "talked" for almost an hour before I finally got her to take her bottle.

I wasn't going to dare to wake up Jen, because a) I want to prove to the world and myself that I can do this fatherhood thing and do it well and b) because my poor wife has been sleep deprived since we got home from the hospital.

Finally Evelyn drank her bottle and yes, I was just starting to enjoy Smallville (which is almost an oxymoron at this point, that show is really dragging on....) and I took her to her bassinet and she slept for a solid 3 or 4 hours. Which was nice.

See? The dramatic version is so much more exciting.

I wouldn't trade the real experience for all the gold in Middle-Earth and Narnia combined.

That's Why They're Called "Baby Blues"

We had a doctor's appointment yesterday, and everything is well. The doctor still wants us to go see a genetics doctor, even though, by her own admission, there really is no need. "Just to be safe," seems to be the motto of the hospital.

Sometimes as a parent, it sounds more like, "Just to see if we can find more things to say are wrong with your baby," or "Just to cover our butts."

It is frustrating, but I understand the need. And besides, our insurance is covering the bill, so I really don't have a reason to complain. I think, deep down, I just want to be done with doctors. I almost have this fear that if they keep poking and prodding on her, they'll find something seriously wrong with my baby girl that I am convinced is as close to perfect as a child can be.

Like I said, frustrating.

Speaking of frustration, Evelyn has decided that she likes to play this game which I have named, "Let's keep mom and dad up as late as possible and see if they can figure out what's making me cry." Or, more to the point, "Baby Crazies."

We have been up and out of our beds for most of the past couple of nights, feeding at all hours and sometimes she just wants to be held, so I'll walk laps around the bedroom trying to get her to go to sleep or Jen will feed her as much as she can eat. Just when I am convinced she's about to pass out (or maybe I am?), I look down and see those big bright eyes looking at me with the utmost curiosity.

I can't help but be impressed at her stubbornness. It rivals, in all of God's green earth, only my own.

Nevertheless, I know that the lack of sleep and frustration is starting to wear on us already. That's when I realized why they called it "Baby Blues" and not "Baby Crazies," or "This Kid is Really Messing With My Universe." Baby Blues is a much more marketable name. If you told people, "Hey, have a kid and you'll only have to deal with the blues for a while." People will have babies and act as though they just got their favorite toy for Christmas.

Oh, but the bait and switch...

What they should say is, "Hey, have a baby and you'll want to bang your head against a wall until you pass out and can no longer hear them cry" or "Having a baby is really going to mess up your universe." But nobody ever says that and each year more and more of us are duped into having a baby. Wouldn't trade her for all the gold bars in Fort Knox, but still...

That has been our little discovery. That's why they're called "Baby Blues."

With all of that said, last night amidst all the frustration, it hit me.

I looked at Jennifer and said, "You know, I'd rather she was awake in our bedroom at 4 am and eating here, than having an I.V. stuck in her arm back in the hospital." Jennifer agreed, and it was like a bright light came on inside our heads at the same time. We're also not going to have her at this size forever.

I think we hugged her a little tighter, and held her a little longer before we put her back in the bassinet for the night.

We Finally Feel Like Parents (Jack Hides His Pain)

Yesterday we were finally able to bring Evie home. Now it's just us and our baby.

And our dog.

Jack was very excited to see Evie come home. I am sure he knew something was up since we'd left confined to the house so much the past week only to come home and have him smell blankets and small pink hats that smelled of infant. But as I do not speak dog, I will never know his true feelings on the matter. I can only speculate from my observations...

He was excited, and instead of treating her like a new chew toy - which has been my greatest fear about bringing her home - Jack has been as tender as one could possibly expect a boxer to be. Sniffing her, tasting her hair, and even attempting to eat a diaper wipe have all been a part of his learning experience.

Overall, I must say, Jack has been a thousand times more calm than I could have expected, but please don't be misled. His enthusiasm still leaks out in fits of doggish euphoria, where he bounces around the room and whines to just get to sniff her hair, look at her some more, or perhaps try to lick her face.

To a point, we're okay with this, as long as he doesn't hurt her or get too excited. He's been a good dog and though I joke, I'd hate to have to give him away because he was unable to cope with being number two to a newborn.

I'm sure it must be hard on the ol' dog no longer being the center of my wife's affection or seeing me talk to a small person he doesn't know or trust, but if he is wounded to his core he hides it well. In fact, as I type this he stares at me from the kitchen panting and breaking wind, I'm sure fighting with every fiber of his being to hide his deep hurt.

The drama queen.

Anyway, it's been nice having Evelyn home. It's like we can feel like parents at last. Not that we haven't been parents, but we're no longer surrounded by the helpful nurses or able to ask a doctor about every little grunt or face Evie makes. Nor do we have to dance around fifty chords all attached to her skin in an effort to change a diaper. In fact, having her home feels normal. She is finally getting a chance to be a normal infant. Well, as normal as any child of mine could be. But you get the point.

And its wonderful.

In just this last 24 hours, I've changed at least 3 poop-filled diapers, 2 wet diapers, handled one small amount of spit up rocked her to sleep. I loved every second of it.

Last night I told a friend that our house is already starting to smell like poopy diapers, but that I didn't mind. It means she's home!

The Past Week

So things have looked up since Tuesday.

We spoke with our doctor who was greatly impressed with Evelyn's ability to turn a frown upside-down; she has gained weight, fought off whatever this infection was, and has taken to her feeding times with great eagerness. I will expand upon these three things as much as I can:

First of all, she was small when she was born. 5 pounds and 1 ounce, and only 19 inches. Our doctor, who again and again impresses me more and more with her ability to talk to me like an intelligent person while not going over my head with medical terms, has said that it's not so small to be concerned, but she was somewhat small as both my wife and I are not small people. Most babies lose weight after birth, but Evie has gained at least one ounce and if you look at her pictures from Monday until today you can see her cheeks becoming progressively chubbier.

She must have inherited her dad's "fat-guy" metabolism... hopefully she'll only have it for a few months.

Evelyn had a hard time eating. Mostly because she was taken away from us for the first 24 hours of her short little life and wasn't able to feed right away. This has caused what is called, "Nipple Confusion." I won't go into a lot more detail because that name pretty much explains itself.

The long and short of it is, she has taken to breast-feeding quicker than at first, and is now getting whole meals in. Although we sometimes still have to give her a little bit of formula since she's apparently very hungry.

But now she's eating quite a bit, and we are happy about this.

They still have no clue what the infection is/was. I spoke with the specialist, I've spoken with our doctor, and the other doctor who works the night shift in the CCN (N stands for nursery by the way - found that out after my last post). Each of these brilliant medical minds have been puzzled as to what has infected my daughter.

Doctor Bryant, our family doctor put it to me like this: There is every indication that she has an infection based upon numbers of blood platelets, white blood cells, and every other indicator of an infection, but there simply seems to be no infection and Evelyn is rebounding quickly.

So here's my theory. Are you ready?

The numbers are there because the infection was there, but before they could find it, God healed her.

Maybe that's too much for you. Maybe. I don't care, that's what I believe.

We have had countless people praying for Evelyn Grace day and night. A friend of mine and I were even having a small conversation over Twitter and it was viewed by a prayer group who messaged me to say they have added her to their prayer list. Both of my grandmother's are praying, my family, Jen's family, our friends from college, my friends from high school, friends of my parents, the list goes on and on and on.

I believe in the power of prayer. I believe in the power of God.

The thing is, I've prayed for a miracle for almost 3 years now. I know... starting to rant... but did you see the title of this page when you started reading?

I've prayed for an absolute miracle from God, something to increase my faith. Foolish, maybe. Selfish, absolutely. But God used my baby girl to answer that prayer and I don't mind sharing my weakness of faith with you, because in my weakness, God proved His strength.

When doctor's are puzzled because a problem has been fixed without their hands, I believe God smiles.

The past week has been hard, but we have been told that there is no reason why we can't bring Evelyn home on Monday.

Thank you so very much for your prayers.