Things are changing drastically around here for Jens and me. We have decided to share it here.
Das Leben ändert sich scon wieder für Jens und mich. Wir freuen uns dies mit Euch teilen zu können!
Halloween and almost TWO. Our little pumpkin.
Liebe Hannah,
Can it be that two years is really looming so close? Recently, you snuggled up to me in front of the computer as we looked at photos of Baby Hannah. Tiny Baby Hannah. I was thinking about what a new mom friend of mine is going through these days and wanted to recall your tiny body. Your strong, long, tanned limbs bear no resemblance to the skin that hung off your long, skinny legs just days after your birth.
You are saying so much. You are communicating so clearly. Just the other night you added the word “squito” after being much impressed at your pregnant mom violently hunting down the one who has been feasting on your ankles in the night. Last night we ate “sghetti” with “Celia” (spaghetti with your new German/American friend, Cecilia). You will repeat and repeat and repeat this, excited by the prospect.
You are passionate about labeling everyone’s ownership of EVERTHING: car seats, seats at the dinner table, watches, socks, shirts, underwear, beds, babies… “Hannahs” “Mamas” “Papas” you say, as you emphatically point to the labeled object, with bright, knowing, informative eyes.
You love to be naked: “Nakt!” you notice or request emphatically about me, Papa, yourself or your baby dolls. “Mama nakt!” is usually your command to get in the bath with you, but you are very understanding when I do not.
You are also going through an impressive “Elmo” phase. Impressive because you never watch television. You only know this creature from your diapers (sometime Papa pointed out to you), and from the one time I actually turned on Sesame Street for 20 minutes of “Elmo’s World.”
The weather finally cooled off and we opened up the latest bin of clothing from Tante Holly and your cousin, Mia. You LOVE the cozy sleepers with the footies in them. They are motivation for you to jump out of the bath: “Mia! Mia!” and when you have them on you repeatedly point to your feet saying thickly “Shooozz.”
A few weeks ago, I finally found the German Kinderlieder CDs again, to which we have been listening in the car, much to your squealing delight. (I know you don’t like NPR, but I do.) By far your favorite song is “Hopp, hopp, hopp” about riding a “Pferdchen.” When it ends, and we continue listening to other songs, you always request it again and again and again. “Hopp, hopp!” When I put it on, you face fills with such perfect delight, it is worth the pain I am experiencing after hearing this song 100+ times during every car ride the last 14 days.
Your greatest fascination lately has been “Auwa” or “ouwies.” You notice any scrape, scab, bruise or blemish on yourself, Papa or Mama and call attention to it and revisit it until is disappears permanently. You can even summon up an impressive fake yelp of pain when you see or touch them (whether your own or ours). We have had to explain that moles are not injuries, but you don’t quite get that.
You have not yet figured out how those darn doorknobs work, but you are close. When I put you down for your afternoon nap, you often wave me good-bye so that you can be alone to read on your own and talk with yourself for 20 minutes before finally succumbing to the lure of your left thumb. If I peak in, you are asleep in the middle of your big bed, surrounded by 5 – 10 books. When you awake, you don’t holler. You simply pick up your nearest book and thumb though it a bit. If I don’t retrieve you soon enough, you will walk to the door and rattle the handle. You aren’t not locked in there, just turn it a little harder Hannah, and the ENTIRE WORLD will be so much more accessible to you (God help us). At night, Mama and Papa flank you on your big bed and read 2 – 3 books. You always ask for “more, more” but we will then turn off the light. You then send Papa out with a loud “bye-bye” and I lay beside you while you twist MY hair with your right hand, left thumb in mouth. When I get up to leave, you tap “my” pillow and say “Bett.” I lay back down and tell you I have to go to MY bed shortly and run through all our loved ones asleep in THEIR beds. This you like, although you will always holler for about a minutes when I finally do get up to leave. You go down every night between 8 – 9p and almost always sleep through until 7a. Man, do we have it good right now!
This weekend I wondered just what we were doing adding your sibling to what seems this perfect mix of you and Papa and me. I was sad for the concentrated time you and I will no longer have with each other, but I have to get excited for the brother or sister who will share your time and your life. You are going to be a GREAT big sister.
My belly has grown bigger –bigger than it ever was with you. This is your sibling reminding us that he/she is soon to enter our lives. You come up to my belly many times a day, unsolicited and pull up my shirt to “see baby.” You then kiss my belly and softly pull my shirt back down, usually followed by another kiss to my belly. You are the sweetest thing that has ever happened to us, and we cannot imagine life without you. Your whole lifetime and ours packed into these nearly whole years.
Love,
Mama
I feel compelled to write a few words about having that first baby and the myth we are sold/told as that event approaches. The “brand new moms” depicted in Babytalk Magazine in your OB’s office always look so happy and rested and completely put-together. They and their partners are sporting all that new, shiny, ridiculously adorable gear that you just got at your shower. They are beaming at each other or simultaneously at their new bundle of joy.
Who are these women? And the men with them? Those are NOT new moms, or they are new moms with lots of caffeine and make-up (and aren’t breastfeeding and have a nanny and/or if that is their baby, the kid is actually 6+ weeks old). The truth is, the first four – six weeks of your new baby’s life are HELL for you. Not constant hell. There are these beautiful moments when Baby slumbers and you are able to do the same, and you look upon him/her as you drift off and know the meaning of life. But mostly, you 1) don’t know what the hell you are doing, 2) are totally freaked out because you don’t know what you are doing, 3) cannot sleep to gain some perspective on what the hell you are doing, and 4) see no end in sight.
I am here to tell you that you are not alone. In truth, most of us spent the first six weeks blurry-eyed, breast milk-stained in our pajamas. And that is how it should be. What fascinated me is how quickly my 200 mph life stopped on a dime, and the whole world stopped expecting anything from me for a little while, and I was allowed to focus only on our tiny baby. I used to juggle five projects at once while at the same preparing supper, doing laundry, completing yard work and cleaning the house. Now I suddenly had just ONE project, and it was kicking my ass! Feeding and changing this child while finding some sleep seemed insurmountable. Showering and changing clothes between a feeding seemed like the most daunting task I had ever faced. What I recall most vividly was getting through another day, and as dusk set in thinking, “This used to mean ‘tomorrow is another day,’ but now it means, ‘so begins the night shift of the never-ending day.’” I mean, days are broken up by night a.k.a. sleep, right? Not for the new parent.
Things I’ve heard:
I am cheating my husband/partner out of a fulfilling experience with our newborn.
No way. These first six weeks are not fulfilling. These weeks are parenting boot-camp. So much will seem so easy after the roller-coaster ride of those first weeks. Your partner is just as freaked as you are, and frankly more worried about YOU than about that little one.
I just don’t know if Little One is eating/sleeping/pooping/cooing enough.
This is why you visit the doctor so often in the beginning. These little ones are SO DAMN RESILIENT. Really. There are, of course, exceptions, and all this fear can be compounded if you were not immediately blessed with a completely healthy baby, but always consider what our ancestors lived through. They survived without that great pediatrician on-call, lactation consultants and wet-wipe warmers.
I may have to supplement with formula. Will you judge me?
NEVER! Whatever the baby books say, the right thing to do is what works for your family. While I am a strong advocate of breast-feeding, I am a stronger advocate of a mother’s sanity. What is right is what works for your family. So many of these breast-feeding advocates are so gung-ho about breast-feeding that they neglect the needs of a mother. It doesn’t work for everyone or for everyone in the same way. If you can do it for 2 days, great! Two weeks, even better! Two months, wonderful! My own goal was always one year, but every day you breast-feed can be considered a success. And if you stop or supplement with formula and your family is better for it, that’s the right decision for you.
While I may have disagreed with my first OB on a few fundamental issues, I consider him one of the greatest doctors on the planet because of his clinic’s guiding philosophy for new families, that just might save the earth:
The best thing parents can do for their baby is be happy themselves. This means work to preserve their relationship with each other and with themselves. The kid(s) will thrive in that environment, almost no matter what.
Now, this is good to keep in mind but nearly impossible those first six weeks. Nearly impossible. My husband and I had moments where we finally just gave in and laughed at our mutual, fumbling incompetence with this tiny, screaming creature, despite her turning her purple. Support each other and…
…accept support from the outside. This does not mean let them all in to hold the baby and then entertain them. This means accept those offers of help and define them for yourself: yes, come by and clean my bathroom; yes, come by and bring us a cooked meal; yes, come by and stock our fridge; yes, come by and mow the lawn. They can come in and hold the baby (after they wash their hands), but ten minutes is plenty. Time to feed, nap, change the baby (great excuses to make your escape). Don’t offer them any beer unless you want them hanging around. And at some point very soon you might.
I have been a flakey blogger. And Facebook bears some of this blame. Let this tide you over until I get another post and newsletter up later this week.
Hannah’s new sibling, I am certain a future world-class soccer player, is busy practicing inside my womb as we said good-bye to my Grandpa Harold this weekend. He died last Wednesday morning at 87 after a long, healthy life and a short, hard bout with lung cancer.
I had been here in my hometown visiting for the 75th anniversary of my family’s company, a visit I extended because of a number of factors, one of them being the condition of my grandfather and subsequent condition of my dad, who was learning to say good-bye. During a few visits with my grandpa early in my trip, he greeted Hannah with a weak but smiling “Hi, sweetie.” My last visit during which we conversed, Grandpa spoke exclusively German with a fluency I had not known from him. He recalled a German nursery rhyme using his fingers that he demonstrated for Hannah. I am only able to recall the final line of “ich reiss’ Dir den Kopf ab” (I’ll tear your head off). OK, so it was a German nursery rhyme. Grandpa and Hannah still laughed.
My grandmother had the funeral outlined and music planned weeks before Grandpa died, with orders for numerous duets to be sung by my sister and me. While rehearsing in the church with my sister and the pianist, it occurred to me that it seemed a shame to not be rehearsing in the home of my still-alive grandfather. We remedied that with a subsequent rehearsal on the Monday evening before my Tuesday flight back to New Orleans. Holly and I, along with our three young children, Harold’s great-grandchildren, went over to the house, joined by our own parents. Grandma and our aunt Mary were there attending to Grandpa, whose bed was now located directly adjacent the piano. The pianist arrived and we sang to Grandpa. He lifted his arms and even once said “Bravo.” It was clear he was very much present with us that evening, hearing his granddaughters sing, this time just for him. There were many tears, mingled with laughter and hand-squeezing and kisses for Grandpa from all of us. The great-grandkids were running in and out to Grandpa’s garden to bring in the ripest treasures, mostly green peppers, which we all enjoyed following the concert, after making sure Grandpa had inhaled their summer richness by holding them beneath his nose. As we were leaving that night, I held Hannah close and asked her to give Grandpa “einen Kuss.” She leaned right in and gave him a lovely kiss right on the lips, undaunted by this frail, ailing figure before her. As I pulled her away, she leaned toward him for a second, unsolicited smooch in the same place. That is the image and the Abschied I will hold in my heart forever. That touching evening with Grandpa made it easy to let go.
I arrived back in New Orleans at 8 pm the following evening, not 24 hours later. At 8 am the following morning, my father called to tell me that Grandpa did not wake up that morning, just as he had wanted to pass away. We made plans to return together as a threesome to Nebraska for the now more formal good-bye. During the conversations shared with my husband in the subsequent days, he mentioned that Grandpa “hat es geschafft” —he made it. He led a long, happy, successful, fulfilling life and now he even has death behind him. He was surrounded by loving family.
While staring at death these past weeks, nothing could be a better reminder of the circle of life than watching Hannah’s unabashed joy as she plays with her young cousins or as she kisses my belly, not fully understanding the mystery behind the swell. She will not remember her great-grandpa but we always will, and she carries a part of him with her, as do I.
Jens can be found here until Tues or Wed:
Hannah and I had a nice day during which I did NOTHING for work for the first day since settling in, and it was good for both of us. I did, however, sort out all the normal human clothing that I won’t be wearing until January and sorted in the rest of my maternity-wear. Nummer 2 won’t be denied.
I also bought some more which I hate because I am cheap. Or is it “thrifty”? Despite the unplanned suprise of it all, I was pleased that Nummer 2 is coming at exactly the same time to line up seasonally (for both maternity and baby clothing) with his/her sibling. Time is right. Place is dramatically altered. I barely showed during the warm months with Hannah, and therefore all my true maternity stuff is for fall in Nebraska, not endless summer in New Orleans. The ironic part about shopping here is that, although it stays warm well into October, the stores carry the same things they would north of Kansas. Silly, isn’t it? We need shorts here considerably longer, but there were none to be found. Globalization, I guess.
I have a strong need to still look nice, even with my new shape. If that means spending $100 on some extra pregnancy duds, then so be it. Getting some sun on my belly at the beach was a also great. I so often see pregnant women and am struck by their beauty. Although I seldom really FEEL that way myself, I hope I can look it. Yoga and swimming are keys to this, and although I have done both of these considerably less this pregnancy, I have another new daily work-out regimine: chasing toddler. It’s all the rage and can give you really buff arms and keep you thin, that is, unless you are feeding your toddler and yourself crap. In that case, I can’t help you.
Liebe Hannah,
It has been another crazy month for you and for me. Papa is settling into work. You and I have settled into a schedule also, however temporary. The last two weeks, our new babysitter, Kelsey, helped me out with you in the mornings. Starting this week you entered Camp Cricket at the University Montessori school. You will be there 9 – 12 each day for the next 3 weeks until we leave for Nebraska. You and I are headed back to NE for Wimmer’s 75th anniversary of the company. Also, Great Grandpa Harold is not doing so well. He is very sick with lung cancer and we want to see him and for him to see you.
Today I am a little bit sad and frustrated as I search for a solution for you to be among other children starting this school year. Everything is full and it seems you are on about 3 – 5 different waiting lists. Ideally I would keep you at the University Montessori. They are very nice there, and you really seem to like it. Something will work out.
Mama is learning patience in this move: patience with the search for a home, patience with making new friends, patience with you so close to me every day, patience with the sale of our Lincoln house, patience with finding a new doctor. You are helping me learn this patience by testing it every day, mostly as you tease me with a smile, running off or turning over (mostly both) as I try to change your diaper or tweaking my nose as I snuggle beside you while trying to put you down for a nap. YOU are a stubborn one. You are my daughter.
Mama changed her name, adding Papa’s and your last name, this month in order to unify our family on paper. This is another big adjustment for me, but I like sharing your name.
You have your new room with your own new BIG bed since we arrived here. No more crib. That is now tucked away to be unpacked for your sibling in a few months. Here you are brushing your teeth with Papa on your new big bed:
Yesterday I noticed your canine teeth poking through on your left side, finally! Those big holes in your mouth may finally be filled. That might explain your long naps and big appetite and occasional night waking. It is hard work growing teeth and it hurts when they cut through. As all the Germans said to us, though, “Du bist hart im Nehmen.” I know you are tough. When you trip from running so fast or don’t look where you are going (which is almost always) and bump your head, you usually get right up and keep at it. You are always afraid you might miss something.
We went to the beach with you last Saturday, out to Ship Island off the coast of Gulfport, MS. YOU LOVED THE BEACH. We are still cleaning sand out of your crevices. Although we woke you so early and you slept not a wink on the drive to the port, you never slept on the beach nor on the ferry ride home. You were out once the car was loaded and you were strapped in for the drive home, however. Always afraid you might miss something.
You sibling has been turning somersaults in my belly these past 2 weeks, a reminder that he/she, too, needs some attention. Mama is a little freaked about all the changes she is facing, but I just need to face them one at a time, 1 – 2 per day. We are all going to be OK. Patience.
I am glad your patience with me hasn’t run out. I am trying the best I can, Maus. And just as you have missed seeing other children, I have missed my own friends and adult conversation. Patience. We will make this our home yet.
Love,
Mama
“Great Expectation” is an appropriate name for the metamorphosis this blog and our lives are undergoing. I’ve been meaning to share for some time that Schmieder Kind Nummer 2 is on its way into our family. We’ve known since Sunday, April 26th. And it is from that date that things began to get really crazy in our lives:
Current To-Do List:
If I’m a little testy or sound a bit freaked, I thought these lists might help you understand. That I occasionally broke down and cried may be understandable, considering the circumstances, in addition to the cocktail of pregnancy hormones circling in my blood. All this, coupled with the fact that I am quite certainly the most impatient person you have ever known. Really.
So my Great Expectation is for our new lives here, the new life in my belly, the new life for my daughter, the new home we will establish and the new friends we will come to know. Stay tuned.
Jens and Hannah left me for Oma and Opa last Tuesday. I have been without husband and toddler for a week and it is a strange feeling. Too much going on for us.
During this past 8 days I launched the new Web site at work (the culmination of 7 months of full-time work), planned our move and SOLD our house. My commission is the 4 pairs of shoes I managed to also purchase during these past 8 days.
I miss Hannah terribly, but will be joining her and Jens in Germany June 7. She is having a fabulous time with Oma Elfriede and Opa Fritz. I am so thankful for this long visit for Jens with his family and this time for the grandparents with Hannah. I had to not be selfish and let them go. It has been a rather brutal 8 days for me, but I will get to join them soon for my own much-needed vacation.
I miss her morning squawks that always bring a smile to my face, especially when they occur for the first time after 7 am. It was especially difficult to Skype with Jens and actually SEE her. I can’t wait to hold and smell her early Monday morning in the Frankfurter Flughafen. Jetzt nicht mehr lange!
If I don’t shoot off this quick post over lunch today, you will never hear from us. We are alive and well. Our world is a crazy place full of constant and major changes.
Hannah turned 16 months old, and I wrote the newsletter. I am all caught up on them, and will share some here if I ever get around to it. Things are crazy in my job and with Jens’ dissertation and changes are on the horizon, about which I cannot yet talk about online. No, I’m not pregnant.
Hannah walks and talks and is less like a baby and more like a kid each day. And I am not so certain how I feel about that. It happens so fast. They all say it, but you CANNOT GET IT until you have your own child. You just can’t.
She is quite the talker, although there are only 2 - 3 words that are decipherable in German or English. “Mama” is loud and clear, much to Jens’ dismay. “Papa” has eeked through (we think) once or twice, but she knows Mama. She also knows who Papa is, she just refuses to say it.
As the weather warms up, we are outside with Hannah in the evenings and she loves it. It is funny to see her walking all about, more sure-footed each day. I promise to share a video with you all here within the week.
