On Sunday we took Nola to the Chicago’s annual Pride Parade, which was the first time any of us had made a trip down to the gayest parade in town. My band, Urgency, played a post-parade sidewalk show that went very well despite the throngs of people who were more interested in getting to the bars than staying in the streets. So not only was it Nola’s first parade, but also her first train ride outside of the womb and her very first concert.

My bandmates, Mark and Kamila, bought Nola a onesie with our band logo on the front:

They also placed a special message on the back, designed to let people know how we roll even when she’s asleep:

On the ride down, Nola settled right back into her in-utero commute routine. We traveled the distance between two stops and she was out cold:

Nola and Constance only stuck around for our sound check because, after all, the parade ended up being a suffocating 3 hours in length. But before she left, she really got into the gay spirit that was inescapable that day:

We were a very happy family, out on the town, experiencing things we had never before seen (and things I shall not describe because, after all, my parents read this blog).

And now, today, on my first day as a work-at-home dad, we are at the pinnacle of happiness. Nola even took a bottle with Constance in the room. Today is a good day. A very, very good day.

Filed under: Husband & Wife, Nola Eleanor | 4 Comments »

Some of you might remember a while back when I wrote a glowing post about my first experience feeding Nola. How she didn’t like the Nuk bottle, but once I gave her the Dr. Brown’s variety, she latched on and did her thing like a pro. I think I described it as one of the happiest minutes of my life.

As it turns out, that initial success can be chalked up to beginner’s luck. And what I didn’t realize about the so-called happiest minute was that it was soon to be followed by countless minutes of frustration and even more minutes spent researching how to solve a problem like a baby that refuses the bottle.

Things got ugly - and expensive - in bottleland very quickly. Witness the array of bottles with which we now find ourselves saddled.

We tried different positions. We tried every bottle recommended by the experts. We tried distractions and bouncing and singing. We tried everything parents are supposed to do when baby refuses the bottle. And then, on Saturday afternoon, after a morning of shopping bottles at Babies R Us - a morning during which the last bottle we had yet to try failed us - our brand new breast pump stopped pumping.

“Oh my god,” Constance said. “I don’t want to freak out, but I’m going back to work for the first time in two weeks. We have to get this figured out.”

“I’m not even sure what to do about the pump,” I said. “We’ve got to have one right now. We can’t wait for the company to send one back. I mean, there is no way we can not have one.”

“I don’t think you can return a breast pump,” Constance said. And, technically, she is right. All over the packaging it warns that a breast pump is a hygiene device and cannot be returned once opened. But I also worked at Target for a year and I knew the magic word to say when we took it up to the returns counter.

“Is there anything wrong with this product?” the Target employee asked.

“It’s defective,” I said. “It needs to be put in chargebacks.”

Without having the box and without a challenge, we were given a full refund placed on a gift card. We then went and bought the Medela Freestyle.

“You better like this a whole lot,” I said. “I could have bought a guitar for the price of that thing.” But Constance wasn’t excited at all, and not because it was just a breast pump. She was nervous to try it, to spend so much money, and then not like it. But that wasn’t a problem. We were back in the pumping business, better than ever, by Saturday night.

Nola, however, would still have none of it. Dr. Brown’s was the only bottle that wouldn’t make her cry when inserted into her mouth, so we figured that would be the one we’d stick with. Yes, she still gazed into our eyes with a how-f’ing-stupid-do-you-think-I-am look, but at least she didn’t cry. And really, what choice did we have. Tomorrow is my first day working from home and once Constance is back at the office, I can not be left to my own devices with a baby that refused to eat all day long.

And the more we searched for advice, the more I wanted to un-invent the Internet, buy a cabin in the woods and live off the land. Everywhere we turned there were tales of babies that refused to eat all day until Mom got home. Babies that had to be fed from special cups, lapping up the milk like kittens. Babies that had to eat from special finger attachments.

On a final search, Constance stumbled upon an amazing blog post by a doula named Schyler Mason - my new favorite person I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting. It was all about having a bottle stand off/intervention. Reading her post, the situation described was the written equivalent of seeing your own shadow hanging off a stranger’s body.

Her solution? Send the parents away while she worked one-on-one with the baby on taking the bottle. She focused on finding positions, distractions and patterns that would allow the baby to latch on. Then, once she had success, the father was introduced once the baby took the bottle. And then, finally, the mother.

Yesterday, our doula and good friend, Holly, played the role of interventionista. Constance took care of her children for the afternoon while she worked with Nola on adapting to bottle life. By 1:30PM, she had already eaten two ounces. By the time I got home from work, Nola had eaten six ounces from the bottle.

“She definitely likes bouncing,” Holly said. “And singing, just like you said. She also wants to face outward toward the room, away from me. What really helps is letting her suck on your finger until she gets a good latch and then switching to the bottle.”

I hugged Holly even though I as still sweaty from my bike ride home. I couldn’t help myself. I was equal parts elated and excited to give it a try. There were 2-1/2 ounces left and Nola was ready to eat. I gave her my finger, she latched, I inserted the bottle and she got pissed. I took the bottle away and repeated the steps.

This time, Nola slid down my arm and threw her head back so she could gaze into my eyes. I tried the same steps again, even though she wasn’t facing out like she did with Holly. Instant latch. I sang her a Ryan Adams song and a Rilo Kiley song and by that time, the bottle was empty. She fussed a couple of times, but I smiled at Nola, she smiled at me and the eating continued.

We still haven’t tried it with Constance in the house, but that doesn’t really matter at this point. So long as she won’t go hungry while we’re home alone, I can now rest easy. Unless, of course, she changes her mind.

Filed under: Husband & Wife, Nola Eleanor, Wrath of Baby | 4 Comments »

Last night we attended the 35th Anniversary Gala for Rape Victim Advocates, the Chicago-based non-profit organization for which Constance serves as the president of the board of directors. The work they do is remarkable, providing non-stop support that helps victims become survivors.

Sexual assault is by no means a comfortable topic for most people, but with proposed budget cuts in the state of Illinois, which are threatening the livelihood of many organizations that help survivors, it was one of the more important galas in the organization’s history.

Being there with Nola was both moving and terrifying. Hearing a survivor say that 1-in-4 girls and 1-in-6 boys will be sexually assaulted by the age of 18 was more disgusting than sobering. But it was plenty of both.

As parents we can only do so much to prevent the worst in any situation and in an effort to cope with the suffocating amount of “what ifs” in this crazy-wonderful world, we try with all of our might to block out the terrible bits in an effort to keep them out of our lives. To keep our kids innocent.

Sadly, it doesn’t work that way and the only way to make this world safer for everyone is through education. Normally I don’t make a plea for causes on this site - in fact, I never have.

But if you have $5 extra this month (or $10 or $20 …) that you set aside for a Starbucks run or a trip to the movies, consider donating it to this worthy, important cause. Everyone on this earth is someone’s child, and we all have a responsibility to keep our children safe.

I will now leave my soap box - at least until next year’s gala. Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this and a special thanks to everyone who decides to make a pledge.

And since I can’t resist, here’s a couple of photos of Nola at her elegant best:

Filed under: Daddy Things, Diversions | 5 Comments »

It’s hard to be a good dad with a bad back. I’m afraid to pick up Nola, let alone carry her around the condo, because my pinched nerve continues to pump seizures across my lower back. Constantly.

My doctor says the offending nerve is in my hip and it is pinched so bad that I’m being dealt a non-stop supply of cramps. Here’s hoping it rights itself soon. July 1 is my first day at home with Nola and something tells me I’m going to need a healthy back to make it work.

Come on, muscle relaxer/vicodin cocktail. Do your job. This adorable baby needs me.

Filed under: Diversions, Doctor, Doctor | 4 Comments »

Constance couldn’t spend another day trapped beneath her suffocating long hair. Ninety-degree temperatures haven’t helped matters any. Neither has Nola’s increasingly good grip on all things tactile. Yesterday over lunch, I walked with my ladies to the salon around the corner from where I work. Nola and I rocked it solo, sipping Starbucks and singing along to crappy pop radio, while Constance reinvented herself for the summer.

Now, without further ado:

Before:

After:

Kid tested, mother approved and husband pleased. Well done, hair people. Well done.

——————————

Here are a few random photos from the weekend that I forgot to post with my Father’s Day diatribe.

Nola loves Thai food

Filed under: Husband & Wife, Reinvention | 9 Comments »

My 6-mile Father’s Day run seemingly ended per usual - with a cornucopia of endorphin-fueled bliss that was so hard to contain I danced a little during my cool down. I was sweaty, invigorated and thirsting for a grape Propel. Keeping my hips in shape is of utmost importance to me, so I willingly looked like an idiot as I walked lunges down the sidewalk outside our condo. Only this time, something funny happened. When I was done lunging, I bent down to do a toe touch, which turned out to be THE toe touch I shall remember for a long time.

It was during this toe touch that something in my left size immediately seized up. Pain roared through my back and side as I tried not only to stabilize myself and avoid falling face-first into the sidewalk, but also to keep from puking. It was a dastardly move from my otherwise healthy, limber body.

Now, two days later, the pain has traveled from my left hip to the entire lower half of my back. It throbs and stings regardless of the position in which I place my body. Sunday night I was up for 3-1/2 hours because the pain was so severe that I couldn’t stay in any position for more than thirty seconds.

If it weren’t for a friendly muscle relaxer and an Americano, I might be at home right now. I know … I should go to the doctor. But is it bad that I just want to go get a massage instead?

Ugh. Makes my back hurt just thinking about it.

Filed under: Diversions, Oops … | 5 Comments »

When my eyes opened, the sun shooting darts through the holes in our shutters, I rolled onto my right side and draped my arm over Constance’s chest.

“Happy Father’s Day,” she moaned, still half asleep. I lifted my head off the pillow until my sight line cleared the back of Constance’s curly brown head, and I could see my sleeping daughter, arms crossed over her face at the wrists. There are so many days I wake up in the morning feeling panicked. I keep having dreams that she isn’t real and that I wake up only to be in a world where everyone denies her existence. Where everyone I meet says, “Nola who?”

But yesterday I knew it was real before I ever saw her tiny body undulating with each breath. I knew it was real because I woke up for the first time in weeks feeling an abundance of both safety and reality.

I had been nervous for a few days. There’s nothing to fear about an innocent holiday, other than department store Santas at Christmastime, but I had never been through the pomp and circumstance of this particular one. And it’s one I’ve wanted to celebrate for years. And while Father’s Day isn’t a holiday that appeals to me in a marketing sense, yesterday turned out to be a day entirely for me.

I don’t like to grill. I don’t want a 50-piece ratchet set or a new cordless drill, nor do I want or need a top-of-the-line lawn mower. From the outset I had my fears about where I fit in on this hyper-masculine salute to sperm-meets-egg.

As it turns out, however, Father’s Day doesn’t have to be about how many cars you’ve fixed, how many beers you can chug during a golf-filled afternoon or how quickly you can build a book shelf. For the right dad, it can be about peanut butter, iTunes gift cards, movies in the morning, Pad Thai wrapped in an omelette, running and Battlestar Galactica. That was my Father’s Day, and it was perfect.

Above all, though, it was about the three of us. Constance wrote cards from Nola, who slipped me the music gift card and who demanded that we go see “The Hangover.” I once again got to hold my baby in my arms, bouncing in the hallway, while a wall of pictures flashed over her petite shoulders. The movie wasn’t great, but knowing that the day was mine and the baby in my arms was mine more than made up for a slow, unfunny, frat-boy-pleasing script.

For lunch we went to an amazing Thai restaurant that, unbeknownst to the masses, has a secret menu. Yes, I did get Pad Thai wrapped in an omelette and yes, it was mind blowing. But even better than the meal was the joyful face staring at me from across the table as I held our daughter, making her grin with little noises and ticklish fingers. Better still was the card Constance gave me, about how she wondered if one lifetime would be enough for the two of us to share our love. I teared-up in the car … twice - once just thinking about the card and how accurate the statement was and once just because I was so happy I didn’t know what else to do.

One year ago we were on the doorstep of IVF. One year ago I was seriously doubting if there would ever be a day like yesterday in my lifetime.

But yesterday did happen and now, today, I’m even more grateful for the lifetime of days ahead of us. I see a lot more content mornings in my future.

Filed under: Daddy Things, Husband & Wife, Nola Eleanor | 9 Comments »

It’s not as if I’m avoiding my writing. It’s just that I haven’t been able to come up for air long enough to even think about stringing together a sentence. My whole week has been consumed by a video project I put together for my company, as well as hammering out the final details of my work-from-home plan. As of July 1, I will be at home with Nola, working my butt off to prove that I can do my job and raise my baby. It’s not just one full-time job, friends. I’ll be working overtime to get it all crammed in. But it will be so worth it.

Nola has begun her rapid ascent to crawling. She’s going to be mobile before we know it – and before we babyproof. Sometimes I just wonder, can this be real? How did we finally get here? I find myself worrying not for her safety or health, but that I’m going to wake up and she will just never have been real.

And how can we already be thinking about adding to the family? Oh, the power of cuteness cannot be tamed. (I promise to make my posts more substantial starting tomorrow.)

Filed under: Daddy Things, Nola Eleanor | 9 Comments »

No time to write today, but there’s always time for me to bring the cute.

Nola pledges allegiance to the Eagles of the National Football League …

Filed under: Nola Eleanor | 10 Comments »

My office is within spitting distance of home. So close that I get to prepare lunch in the confines of my kitchen every single day. Today was hard boiled eggs on homemade gluten-free toast and a peach/apple/banana fruit smoothie, which is neither here nor there, but was indeed delicious.

Since Nola and Constance have been home, my daily midday routine has been infused with the kind of familial love that is far more rewarding than any love fest in which Marcy the dog and I have ever engaged. Yes, Marcy and I have swapped our fair amount of slobber, but no amount of fetch can ascend to the greatness of my wife and daughter.

Yesterday, though, our normal joy was interrupted by a tear fest.

That morning, the great and powerful Oprah hosted a show about spirituality - it had nothing to do with religion, mind you – and she had a woman on who had contracted a flesh-eating bacteria during a C-section. She lost both of her legs and arms and will spend the rest of her life using prosthetic limbs to care for herself and her family.

And, according to Constance, she wasn’t the least bit deterred, self-loathing or self-pitying. During the segment, they showed video of the woman learning to change diapers with hooks. And when she couldn’t get it right, she just kept trying again and again. Of course when Constance was telling me, she started crying even harder than she did when she watched it the first time.

I know there are a lot of hormones at play in her body right now, but I find so much warmth and humanity in her current willingness to express emotions openly. I’ve always been the emotional one in our relationship. I wear my heart so firmly on my sleeve that many times it suffers undo wear and tear due to overexposure.

So for me, seeing Constance cry over a story on Oprah, or during a TV show in which something bad happens to a child, is really quite lovely.

“You can’t worry for all of the babies everywhere,” I said during a pause in Battlestar Galactica after an evil Cylon broke a child’s neck.

“But I do,” she warbled through the tears. “I worry about all of the babies in the whole world.”

The simple truth is, she does. Another simple truth is that I now find that to be one of her greatest strengths.

Filed under: Husband & Wife, Nola Eleanor | 6 Comments »