Drew and I are fortunate to live in a very family-friendly town.  You can count on every restaurant to have a high chair and usually outdoor seating.  The parks are clean and on every corner.  Usually my baby is in an accommodating environment that makes me look like a parenting pro.  Sometimes, however, you can’t help but bring a baby where they really don’t belong.  We had a few experiences with this throughout Month 4. Some of which I handled gracefully, others… well… turned out kinda poopy.

You don’t know judgment until you step into an airport terminal holding a baby.  As I watched countless faces turn to despair and dread, I couldn’t help but feel a bit put off.  I held Baby B in the ergo carrier, ready for a red eye flight, and he was nothing short of adorable.  In fact, he stayed that way the whole ride to Florida for our friend’s wedding.  We scheduled the red eye to save time and crossed our fingers he’d sleep the whole way.  I should’ve crossed both hands because while he slept in my arms peacefully the entire duration, I sat stationary and wide-eyed, unable to move lest I wake my sleeping angel.  For those of you who may not have flown in awhile, let me warn you they are making newer planes progressively more uncomfortable. By the time we arrived I felt like a Picasso painting.  It took several hours for everything to move back into place.

The wedding venue was beautiful. Stain glass windows, 20-foot ceilings, sleek wooden pews, and the echoes- you could hear a pin drop in that place a mile away. I bet a baby’s cry would resonate for days.  I carried Baby B in his suit, and sat down to see the bride come down the aisle.  It was to be a traditional Catholic service. We watched Drew and the rest of the groomsmen take their places along with the groom, listened to the music begin and enjoyed the processional.  Being a former bride myself, I knew exactly what to do the second the priest started speaking.  We snuck out the back.  I wasn’t going to distract everyone with fidgeting and fussiness during an hour-long service.  We played on the steps of the cathedral until just before the bride and groom were announced.  We saw the best parts.  Afterwards when guests complimented my baby for being so remarkably well-behaved, I smiled and nodded.  Parenting win.

My son is not a fan of shopping.  We’ve had a few excursions end abruptly for one reason or another, but a particular trip to Target had me literally out of  breath either from embarrassment, stress or laughter. I can’t decide.

It was nap time and he usually falls asleep in the car so I thought my plan of leaving during his nap and having him sleep through all of my errands was fool-proof.  Except that when we arrived at the store he was still wide awake.  We made it through several aisles before he got fussy and wanted to be held, leaving me with a baby in one hand and cart in the other, awkwardly pushing it slowly toward the register.  When he calmed down I put him in his carrier and that’s when I heard it.  “gurgle.” The familiar sound of a full diaper.  I figured I was on my way out, I could change him in the trunk of my car (which he prefers over the fold-down changers in store bathrooms for some reason) and we’d be on our way.  As soon as he was laying down and I lifted up his onesie I saw we had the most major blowout I’ve ever seen.  POOP EVERYWHERE.  I pulled out two wipes and realized they were my last ones.  Using every scrap of wipe, I’m cleaning poop off my baby, my car, his changing mat, etc.  Only having two hands, I tossed the soiled onesie onto the roof for a moment while I put on baby’s diaper.  But a moment was all it took.

A gust of wind took the onesie, with all of that poop, and it blew away into a nearby parking spot.  There I am holding a naked baby in the trunk of my car staring in shock at a poop-covered garment completely out of reach.  I diapered the baby, picked him up and went after the onesie.  After I retrieved it and threw it in a plastic bag I still had to dress the baby, buckle him in, load all the merchandise, and pray he’d finally take that nap.

At 4 months, Baby B is 16lbs 5oz, 25.5 inches tall.  He’s in the 75th percentile and has hit all the major milestones including rolling over both ways, standing and sitting with some assistance, giggling, grabbing his hands and feet, and blowing raspberries.

Baby B likes: tummy time, music class, pooping, eating, meeting new friends and family members, and traveling.

Baby B dislikes: sleeping, mittens, and the garbage disposal.

When I was a kid, my mom sang all the time.  We sing to the radio in the car like lots of people do, but she also constantly sang made up songs around the house.  She’d sing about any menial task from doing the dishes to folding laundry.  I always thought it was a personality quirk. Now I realize, it’s because she had kids.

Baby B loves listening to music and it often calms him down or eases transitions or just enhances playtime.  It’s resulted in a very “Glee” lifestyle.  I find myself singing all of the time whether it’s a lullaby to help him nap, a song and dance to make him smile, or my favorite- a made up tune desperately sung to distract him from crying.  This is where the improvisation skills really come into play as I create such hits as, “Let’s get Dressed,” or “It’s Sleepytime,” or the more impatient remixed version, “Why Won’t You Sleep.”  The worst part is when my own made up songs get stuck in my head, causing me to mumble out loud in public, phrases like, “Watch your mobile while I go to the bathroooooom.”

As much as my singing makes him smile, his newly found giggle is truly music to my ears.   At three months, he is a strong healthy baby with an ability to learn so quickly that I find it amazing.  We are now enrolled in a music class called Musicology and he loves it! Well, he loves the parts of class he participates in while he’s awake.  Let’s just say he’s not the best student yet.  He must get that from daddy.

At three months, B likes: color contrast books, flying like superman, his soft teddy bear, looking at his feet, and making new friends.

He dislikes: naps, the blender, sneezes, and Postino after 7pm.

Time is flying by and our baby boy is already two months old! He’s hit every developmental milestone for a 2-month-old so far, and in true Bautista fashion he is going above and beyond to meet a few of the 4-month milestones, including bearing weight on his legs in a standing position and rolling over.

Right now, Baby B’s life is full of firsts.  Unfortunately, he caught his first cold a few weeks ago, but he’s better now! He also rolled over for the first time on March 24th, and has done it several times since.  A couple of days later, he started smiling back at us for the first time!  He moves so quickly it’s hard to catch on camera, but I got a few good ones:

You can see his little personality starting to show.

Baby B likes: bathtime, music, stories, his gym, tummy time, stroller rides, car rides, mirrors, and his hands.

He dislikes: naps, bright lights and dirty diapers.

This week is another first: meeting his Uncle Phil, Aunt Leo, and his twin cousins! 

I can’t believe Brayden is already one month old! At his one-month appointment he measured 22 inches, and weighed in at 10lbs 10oz. He’s in the 80th percentile for height, weight and head circumference.  Big boy! 

For the past month, I’ve been home every day taking care of him, but I haven’t been alone.  As they say, “It takes a village to raise a child.” Well, we brought the village. Brayden is lucky enough to have three sets of grandparents who love him very much.  They have been visiting in shifts, bringing their baby-raising expertise to help out the newbie parents:

Eat, Sleep, Poop.  That’s what everyone told me was the extent of a newborn’s repertoire.  Our baby has the eating and pooping down like a pro, but a couple of nights this past week had me wondering if I’d unknowingly given birth to a vampire.  Instead of sleeping, he’d much rather do this:

I can’t believe it’s been almost two weeks since Brayden’s arrival made us a family.  He is settled in and adapting to the world very well so far.  Today’s pediatrician appointment revealed he is now 9lbs 4oz and in the 75th percentile for his size.  That’s a lot of growing in just two weeks! With breast-feeding, sleeping and even focusing and following objects with his eyes, Brayden is pretty much a pro at being a baby.  Drew and I on the other hand, had a few lessons to learn about life with a new baby:

1. The inner-workings of the digestive system dominate daily conversations in a way I couldn’t have imagined. I have mentioned pee and poop more times in the past two weeks than a first-grade class clown.
2. Baby boys come with a built-in fire extinguishing system, but it seems to malfunction quite frequently. The slightest false alarm can send it spiraling out of control, unleashing onto my husband’s clothes, the nursery wall, or anything within fountain range.
3. On a related topic, never bend down to lovingly kiss your baby boy on the forehead while the fire extinguishing system is exposed without a diaper.  I nearly caught it in the eye.
4. I have discovered the fastest rate in which I can consume a meal before an inevitable interruption.  For example, a bowl of cereal takes four minutes.
5. I have also discovered the minimum amount of sleep required for my body and brain to function properly.  Failure to meet the minimum requirement results in brief bouts of narcolepsy, usually while nursing a baby.

All lessons aside, Brayden has his dad’s laid-back disposition and has only kept us up for a few nights so far. (knock on wood!) He’s already developing a little personality. 

Brayden likes: footie pjs, blankets, sleep sheep, playing with mommy’s hair, peeing on daddy, eating and sleeping.
He dislikes: diaper changes, being naked, seatbelts and mittens.

A few friends had asked us what it’s like to know that from now on there are three of us instead of two, or whether it’s strange to go from just us, to us and a tiny human that will be involved in our lives forever.  To me it doesn’t feel strange. In fact, as soon as he arrived I couldn’t imagine life without him. It’s like he’s always existed, but now he’s home.

It isn’t often that one 24-hour duration, one turn of the Earth, changes our life and imprints every moment of itself in our memory, earning the title of “the best day.” My wedding day earned this title two and a half years ago and now February 8th, 2014 will no doubt remain vivid in my mind forever.  It was the most physically challenging, emotionally exhausting and ultimately rewarding experience all at once.  It was the best day of my life.

Last Friday afternoon, I was in the middle of one of my due date “treat yourself” activities getting a relaxing massage and thinking about where I wanted to go to dinner with my husband.  But we never went.  At around 4pm I started feeling measurable contractions and we started timing them with excitement and anticipation, waiting until they were about 5 minutes apart so we could call the midwife and go to the hospital.  Earlier that morning I had gone in for a check-up and was told I was dilated 2cm.  I had a ways to go.  It could take hours or days.  

At around 8:30 the contractions were stronger and more frequent, less than 10 minutes apart.  I decided we could wait no longer! To the hospital! Drew put the bags in the car and off we went.  I hobbled up to registration and managed to spit out my name in between contractions.  Within minutes I was whisked off in a wheelchair to triage, where nurses started asking all sorts of questions and testing my vitals. I was relieved when my midwife arrived, but not relieved to hear what she said a few minutes later.  Three centimeters dilated.  Only three?! Four hours of contractions and I’d only progressed one lousy centimeter? That’s what I meant to say. What I actually said was a little less eloquent with a little more profanity.  We went back home to continue early labor.

The contractions remained strong and frequent for hours.  I rotated from the warm shower to my birthing ball, Drew following each step of the way cheering me on and offering help however he could.  I was determined to stick it out until I was sure our next trip to the hospital would end with a baby.  Perhaps I waited just a bit too long. When the contractions felt like one unbearably painful contraction with no space in between, I told Drew to drive as fast as he could.  It was 3am.

When we arrived at the hospital I could barely open my eyes.  We checked into triage and my midwife entered the room.  “It looks like we’re ready to have a baby,” she said.  She filled up a laboring tub to ease the pain of active labor and I got into the warm water, Drew sitting beside it telling me I was doing a great job.  I’d just stepped in when I had another contraction and my midwife told me it was almost time to get out and push.  That part didn’t take long at all.  Less than an hour and a half after I’d arrived, I was holding my baby.

Drew and I had planned on taking video during the whole process.  We were so prepared with cameras and printed birth plans, a music playlist for labor and even a cord blood donation kit for Be the Match, that we ended up forgetting in the car.  We took no video and my neatly printed “birth plan” turned into whatever noises I could utter between contractions.  But it didn’t matter.  Staring down at two tiny brown eyes staring back, I couldn’t believe that we did it.  We had a baby. 

And AZ Baby B is perfect.

The long-anticipated due date is finally here! After a full 40-hour work week and regular routine with almost no signs of increased activity, I wasn’t sure whether or not this day would be just like every other.  That’s why I scheduled some “treat yourself” activities to both indulge in some pampering and encourage the little guy to come meet us soon.  A massage, mani pedi, and due-date-date with my husband and some spicy food are all on tap for this weekend… if baby lets me.

Last night I started showing some definite early signs of labor and visited the midwife this morning to find out things are moving along in the right direction! We’ll see if baby boy has his mother’s punctuality.

With just one week left until our due date, Drew and I are completely prepared!  Well, we’re prepared for a trip to the hospital. I’m not sure we’ll ever be prepared for the trip home with the tiny human that will make us a family.  

Our cameras are charging and ready.  I’ve packed a bag for myself and one for the baby boy.  Mine’s the one with the snacks and the teddy bear.  I’ll be experiencing the most physical pain I’ve ever had in my life, I’m not too proud to admit that I may require the help of Teddy.  Plus, later on I can say I just brought it for the baby.

Not pictured here is Max’s overnight bag. He will be having a sleepover with his best friend (my 2-year-old niece) while we’re gone.  It’s hard to tell if he knows what’s happening but I think with the changes going on in the house he knows something big is coming.

And hopefully that something will be here soon!

There are two questions every pregnant woman answers as soon as someone notices her baby bump- “Is it a boy or a girl?” followed by, “Have you decided on a name?” Most everyone who knows us knows that at this point the answer to the latter is, no.

When it comes to choosing a name for a child, there’s a lot of pressure.  Their name will define them, determine who their friends could be, or whether or not they’re made fun of on the playground, make or break their future resume, or even decide where they will sit during a middle school awards ceremony… which is where I met my best friend… as we struck up a conversation making fun of other people’s names.

What’s fun about names is that everyone has an opinion on every one of them, and even without a name our baby has acquired a few already.  He’s “Baby Kanye,” “Rocky,” “Drake,” and even “Alfred Robin” after Drew wouldn’t let me name him Bruce Wayne or my nephew’s suggestion: Batman.

Most of his current names stem from inside jokes, yet I’m not sure why they trend towards famous rappers.  Needless to say, they are all on the list of names we will not be choosing.  Also on that list are the suggestions from nearly all of my male friends and co-workers, who when I told the news immediately threw their own names in the ring.  I have yet to witness a female do this.  Maybe it’s a macho thing? Anyway, I don’t think Drew would be too pleased if I suggested we name our first born after the IT guy at work.  No offense Mike.

Though we’d like the name to be unique, we decided it doesn’t have to be as unique as the names so many celebrities have been coming up with recently, which seem to be predominantly inanimate objects.  I’m looking at you, Gweneth Paltrow.  Sure, it might seem like a good idea when you’re exhausted from the work of labor and you get handed that birth certificate to just glance across the room and go with “Lampshade Curtain Bautista,” but I don’t think we’d be doing him any favors in the long run.

Truthfully, Drew and I have a few top choices up our sleeves but we’re waiting until we meet our son to make it final.  In the back of my mind I’m still holding out hope that on the day of his arrival he’ll stand up, give Drew a hearty handshake and introduce himself properly.  That would certainly make things easy for us.