His number came up

I thought today I’d do a “non-Tess” post – don’t worry, I’ll still sneak in some pictures!  But I wanted to tell you guys about the call I got from my sister-in-law Steph last week.  She tells me that in 2005 my brother Ron had put his name on the waitlist for Red Sox season tickets.  I knew he had – I remember him being so excited, he even carried his code around in his wallet, scribbled on a post-it. To say Ron was an “avid Red Sox fan” is an understatement. Ron personified Red Sox Nation.  He knew it would take a long time for his number to come up but it would be worth the wait.  Well, he was right – it took 8 years, but apparently his number came up this year.  He got an email telling him he was eligible to buy season tickets for this season.

"Little Red Sox Fan"

Just like Uncle Ron

Many people reading this likely know that Ron died 3-1/2 years ago.  Steph hasn’t been able to bring herself to get rid of his email address, so she continues to check it periodically.  She happened to check it the day he got the email from the Sox.  All I could think when she told me that his number came up was how pissed he’d be knowing that he wouldn’t be able to use them.  I can’t describe to you how excited he would be about this.  It’s so unfair he isn’t here to enjoy them himself.  But everything about Ron’s illness and ultimate death was unfair to say the least…

Ron started feeling sick back in 2006, right around his 40^th birthday.  He thought it was a cold.  Ron never got sick and when he did, he didn’t let it keep him down.  It kept getting worse so he finally went to the doctor.  Doc said it was mono, so he should rest but he would slowly start getting better.  But it kept getting worse.  Thanksgiving 2006 he couldn’t even stay at the table to finish his meal he was so sick.  And Ron LOVED Thanksgiving.  And eating. It's a family characteristic, really. That Christmas, Andy proposed to me in front of the family, and he missed it because he was too sick to come to my sister’s.  Finally, in January, one day he had a stroke.  It turned out he had leukemia and the cancer cells were so thick in his blood that it formed a clot. 

Ron's hospital room when he was first diagnosed

His buddies made him a banner to inspire him in his fight!

Ron went through chemo like a champ that year.  He went into remission and had an autologous stem cell transplant – they could not find a bone marrow donor who was a perfect match so instead they harvested his own stem cells from his bone marrow, cleaned them up – blasted him with total body radiation then gave his own cells back to him.  By September of that year, 2007, he was well enough to marry the love of his life – Stephanie.  And life was good for a while.

Love birds.

Ron was checking himself out in a mirror here.

Family.

Ron with a couple of his bros.

The next summer he relapsed.  They caught it early so it should be easy to treat. they said.  Ron started chemo again.  “Ding, ding, Round 2” Ron said to Steph when they found out. “Strong like bull” was his motto, and he was. 

Chemo would wipe out his immune system, and shortly after starting treatment he acquired an infection and went into septic shock.  He was in ICU and things did not look good.  They gave him a 5% chance of survival.  But they put him on dialysis and after about a week he started to get better.  He got so much better, in fact, a few weeks later he was strong enough to start chemo again.

Da Fam. Christmas 2004.

Ron was tough - everyone else was all bundled up because it was freezing.

Ron was in a sweater and ball cap.

But the chemo wasn’t working this time.  They kept trying different drugs but he just would not go into remission.  Ron was in the hospital for more than 6 straight months during that time. It was getting scary, but Ron’s physician Dr. Marks (who will always go down as the most incredible physician I will ever know) had one last bag of tricks he was going to try.  It was an experimental drug they came up with at Yale, where Ron was being treated, and it was worth a shot.  Finally, right before Christmas 2008 Dr. Marks announced Ron was in remission.  At that point he needed to have a “real” bone marrow transplant, from a donor.  They still could not find a perfect match, but there was someone who was close enough and it was Ron’s only chance at survival.

Me + Ron

Thanksgiving 2008

The whole family brought a full Thanksgiving dinner,

complete with turkey and all the sides,

to Yale New Haven Hospital.

Even a box of wine.

Ron had the transplant in early 2009 and it all went well to start.  It is a long recovery process, and there are a million anti-rejection meds he had to be on that kept his immune system suppressed, but he was in remission and getting stronger by the day.  By that summer he was well enough that he and Steph met Andy and I in North Carolina for a week on the beach.  Finally, we thought – life can start getting back to normal.

Ron fishing in North Carolina.

Unimpressed with Andy's catch.

Living the good life.

Ron caught a stingray

"Nurse Jonny" was protecting Ron from the stinger.

Later that summer, though, he started having symptoms of what is known as graft vs host disease. This happens when the transplanted cells start attacking the host’s body, Ron’s body.  A minor case of graft vs host can sometimes be a good sign, it means the transplant is “taking.”.  But it can also be lethal if it gets out of control.  Ron was confident he would get through it, we even had a family vacation to Block Island planned for late August.  But the trip had to be cancelled, he was still too sick to leave the hospital. 

Family.

Eventually, Ron’s liver started shutting down.  One day my mom called and said I should probably come up north, things were not looking good at all.  I had no doubt in my mind Ron would get through this, he had come so close to death SO many times and ALWAYS got better just as things were most dire.   “Teflon Ron” we would call him, because nothing would “stick.”

The day after Andy and I arrived Ron was moved to the ICU and he would never come out.  My mom and Steph hadn’t left his side for days, so I finally convinced them to go home, get a meal and a shower and I would stay with him.  At this point Ron was unconscious, but we still didn’t want him to be alone.  That afternoon I sat by his side and finally thought to myself for the first time “God… if he isn’t going to get better… just take him quickly. Don’t let him suffer like this anymore.”  A short time after that a woman came in who said she was the hospital chaplain and asked if she could pray for Ron. I was pretty religious when I was a kid, but haven’t been as an adult.  I don’t like the way organized religion is practiced so I avoid it.  But I told her she could go ahead and pray, and when she asked what I wanted to pray for I told her that I would want him to go quickly and peacefully if he wasn’t going to survive this illness.  

Then Ron died that night. 

I don’t know if God answered that prayer or if I was just finally facing the reality that the end was near… but, regardless of what happened, he did go peacefully.  He was surrounded by everyone he loved – my parents, my sister, Andy and I.  His loving and devoted wife, Steph.  All of his best friends who had been a crew since they were little kids. There were probably a dozen people around his bedside as he drew his final breath.  If any messages were getting through to him in his final moments, it was that he was so loved.

Some of Ron's best friends...

Friends since they were little kids.

It has been exactly three and a half years and there has not been one day that has gone by that I haven’t thought about him. That I haven’t missed the sound of his laugh.  And I’m one of probably 20 people who feel that way. At least 20.  Ron was maybe the most popular guy I’ve ever met.  People were drawn to him. He was fun and outgoing and absolutely hilarious. He could bond with anyone.  He LIVED each and every day of his life.  And he was generous and giving to no end.

Family game of wiffle ball on Easter.

When Steph called me the other night, I told her – Ron would kick our asses if we didn’t get those season tickets.  He really would.  As it turns out, Steph had saved his wallet, including the post-it note with his code. Its almost like it was meant to be – the fact that Steph still checks Ron’s email and still had that code… As Ron’s friend Donnie said, “That guy just keeps on giving.”  Even in death.

The other piece of exciting news we got this week was that Steph was accepted to Quinnipiac University’s accelerated nursing program!  In 1 short year, Steph will be fully qualified as a nurse!!! She has been working to get her pre-requisites done while working the past couple of years, and now is able to start school full-time.  She was inspired by Ron to pursue this completely new career (she’s previously worked in sales).  Steph was Ron’s at-home nurse for 3 years, and did an incredible job. After seeing the difference Ron’s nurses made during his illness, and how they touched his life and hers, she was inspired to go and do the same for others. It is, in a roundabout way, how Ron will “keep on giving” I guess… I can’t tell you how proud he would be of her.

Old School Ron + Steph

So Steph bought the tickets.  Left Field Pavillion Reserved.  It's a real bittersweet moment for all of us. Steph most of all, I’m sure.  What’s incredible is that Andy and I have planned a trip up to Mass this summer and are going to be able to go to a game with Steph… but not any game. A Yankee game. I nearly died when I realized the timing was right! As many times as I’ve been to Fenway, I have never been to a Yankee game. Tickets are impossible to get your hands on, and even if you can, they are too damn expensive! Again, like it was meant to be.  Ron and Steph brought Andy and I to a Red Sox game on my birthday in 2005.  In my mind this will be like him bringing me to another.  It will be an emotional day, but I’ll know he’ll be sitting right there with me.  (Let’s hope he’ll also be sitting with Big Papi to inspire some big hits!)

Me + Ron @ Fenway Park

Andy Steph Ron

June 13, 2005

All ready for a game.

"Put me in, coach!"

One of the hardest things for me to think about now is that Tess will never get to meet Ron.  She will know of him, of course – I will be sure to tell her stories about Ron – and often.  But she will never experience the full-belly laugh that he would undoubtedly bring out of her with his hilarious jokes and stories, like he did everyone.  But hopefully she will have a chance to someday use the season tickets that her Uncle made sure were left to her Aunt Steph.  I love to think of the joy that he’ll be brining to her even though they will have never met face-to-face.

Ron 

1966-2009

P.S. I wanted to apologize for the emotional and sad nature of this post, its just been on my mind with the news about the tickets and with Steph getting into nursing school.  And Ron's death is such a big part of my and Andy's personal narrative, it seems odd to have a blog about our lives without telling the story at least once.  

Keep calm and carry on.

3 months ago today Tess was born!  I can’t believe it’s been 3 months.  Part of me can’t even picture my life before she was born because it seems like she’s always been a part of it, but in another way December 14 seems like yesterday…

Dec 14, 2012

I suppose to commemorate her “3 month birthday,” yesterday we had a first at the Jenkins residence. I had my first full-on, nuclear mama meltdown. I guess it was just a matter of time, but oh man… it was one for the record books.   

Me + Tess on a less crazy, happier day.

I plead innocence though.  It wasn’t my fault at all.  I blame this damn book I’ve been following, Healthy Sleep Habits Happy Child.  OK maybe I’m partly to blame, because I’m a crazy, over-the-top Type A psycho and have a tendency to get totally consumed by things.  Right now I’m consumed by the “rules” set forth in this book.  I’m sure most people can read the book, get good advice, incorporate some changes and be fine.  I on the other hand have been completely militant and ridiculous about what this book suggests and its just not working for us.

Recommended... just don't be OCD about it like me!

 I had started reading this damn book when Tess was just a couple weeks old, a lot of what it has to offer is geared towards older babies and getting a good sleep schedule going, but one thing it did suggest even early on was to get daytime sleep and to start an early bedtime.  When I started putting Tess to bed at 7 was when she really started sleeping through the night – first it was 7 or 8 hours. Between the early bedtime and daytime sleep she was getting, she started sleeping up to 10 or 11 hours at night.  I thought the author of this book, Marc Weissbluth, was an absolute genius.  It's a little counter-intuitive – that the more sleep she got, the more sleep she would get, but it really is true. Sleep begets sleep.  Overtired babies get excitable and don’t want to sleep – true in theory and in practice!  Things were going great.

Waking up very happy after 12 hours sleep.

That is, up until a couple of weeks ago.  Tess would take some naps during the day, a morning nap in her bassinet, maybe a nap in the Baby Bjorn while I took a walk through the neighborhood, a lot of naps in her swing.  It was great – she loves her swing and could spend days in there, and I was able to get so much done around the house. House was always clean, laundry done, dinner cooked, blog updated, I was showered, Tess was happy – it was great.  I felt I had conquered motherhood! 

Our video monitor so we can keep an eye on her while she sleeps.

Then I went back and started reading more of the book a couple of weeks ago, and learned that this author does not believe in naps anywhere other than the crib or bassinet.  He thinks naps in a swing, while being held, etc don’t provide restful sleep.  Also, naps less than 1 hour are pointless.  And there should be a nap at around 9am, 11am, 1pm and maybe another at 3pm.  And the baby can’t be awake for more than 2 hours.  And there are two ways to put baby down for a nap, putting them in the crib while they are awake and letting them fall asleep on their own OR by soothing them to sleep and then putting them down.  Both are fine, but if you choose the latter you need to put them to sleep like that every single time without fail, and then eventually need to change over to the first method.  The list of rules goes on.

Don't bother me, I'm sleepin'!

So in typical Meag fashion I panicked because as well as things were going, I was apparently doing everything wrong.  Sometimes she would nap for 30 minutes.  She would often not nap in her crib.  I didn’t have regular naps occur at the same exact time every day.  She would sometimes be awake for longer than 2 hours.  I would sometimes put her down awake sometimes I would rock her to sleep. Holy crap, how have I been screwing this up so badly?

Baby Bjorn nap

As much as Tess sleeps at night, she does usually start waking up between 3 and 5am and I will have to put her pacifier in a few times. She will always fall back asleep after this, but I really wanted her to stay asleep all night so I wouldn’t have to keep getting up to give her a pacifier.  (Her relationship with her pacifier is a blog post for another day, because, damn. She loves that thing). But yea, I got greedy. Like a crack addict out for a fix, I had tasted the sweet nectar of a baby who sleeps and I wanted more!

Car seat nap

I thought if I started doing things more “by the book” Tess would not start waking up at 3 or 4 and would stay asleep the entire night.  As it turns out, Tess was not feeling the new rules. I was trying to force her to sleep in her crib and it would just result in her crying all day. OK, Weissbluth, I can see the swing or bjorn not being an ideal nap, but hey – at least that way she WOULD sleep.  This thing about trying to force naps in her crib was resulting in NO daytime sleep so life was a nightmare.  And I was picking her up to hold her a lot more after she would cry in her crib for a while, so she is already learning at 3 months that if she cries, mama picks her up!  How is this possible? So basically, I had a good thing going and should have kept doing what I was doing, but instead totally f’d everything up.

Bassinet nap.

And yesterday… it all caught up with me.  I put her down for a late morning nap in her crib and she was totally asleep. So I left her to take a shower.  I was in the shower thinking “damn, I am awesome at mothering!”  She was sound asleep in her crib and life was good.  So I took a nice long hot shower and was loving life, then I turned off the water and shit got real. Fast. I stepped out to hear Tess crying from her crib.  I only just started being comfortable with the idea of leaving her alone to shower so I panicked.  In my towel, hair dripping everywhere, I ran into her room.  She had spit up (what else is new?) and was all wet so I had to change her.  Again, still dripping in my towel I picked her up to change her.  She was very unhappy so she was just screaming, screaming.  Even once she was changed and dry and being held, still screaming, screaming. 

I was doing my best to soothe her, and finally she started to calm down.  She eventually fell back asleep in my arms and as I was getting ready to try to put her back down in her crib, Fenway – my dog – trots into the nursery and let out this high-pitched loud-as-hell BARK!  For no reason! There was nothing to bark about, maybe a squirrel buried an acorn outside, I don’t know - he just wanted to be a little shit.  So Tess trembles, wakes up and starts crying again.  And after so many days of Tess crying and not sleeping, I lost my shit.  I went to smack Fenway and he turned and ran. Which only made me more irate.  So I went after him, again, screaming like a banshee, still wet in my towel, holding screaming Tess.  He knows I'm pissed so he’s not slowing down.  I’m slip-sliding all over the house, towel now barely hanging on when I corner him in the kitchen, screaming baby still in tow. He then starts this game where when I go to chase him around one side of the kitchen island, he goes the other way – we go back and forth for a minute, at this point I’m speaking in tongues I'm so f’ing angry.  Finally I chased him into my bedroom. He jumped on the bed, I smacked his butt and he ran off.  I then look at the spot in the bed where he had jumped and I kid you not people, I see a big… yellow… wet patch. He fucking PEED!!! On my bed!!!! My uncontrollable outward rage quickly transformed into a cold fury.  At that point I was ready to open the front door and say, “Fine, you wanna run?  Go. Run. Have a nice life.”

Dogs recovering after a stressful day.

Twickers' inner monologue:

"I can't believe Mr. Golden Boy got the smack down and not me, for once."

At this point, Tess still screaming, I walk her into her room, put her down in her crib, closed the door, walked back to my room, closed my door, and began to sob uncontrollably. I couldn’t even face cleaning up the mess.  I just balled. I finally composed myself enough to call Andy, when he picked up I just said “Can you come home?” And started to ball again.  Through my sobs I was able to get out “Tess… crying… Fenway… peed… need… you…” or something like that.  Fortunately Andy came home right away to talk me off the ledge.  And to deal with the pee.  I was consumed with guilt – not only mommy guilt over the fact that I was doing everything wrong with Tess’ naps and all she could do was cry, but also dog-mom guilt over terrorizing my poor dog to the point where he friggin’ peed himself!  Anyone who knows me knows how in love with my dogs I am, and now here I am abusing them.  Twickers is used to getting in trouble, she’s naughty.  When she gets reprimanded, she gives me a dirty look and the finger basically. But Fenners is so obedient and well-behaved, he doesn’t know what to do with himself when he gets in trouble. Hopefully PETA isn’t reading this.  I’ll be convicted of cruelty to animals!  How did I lose control so badly? All I could think was “what the hell happened?” I was mom of the year 3 weeks ago, and now everything was a total mess. 

Me + Fens in matching PJs. BFFs.

I could just hear Tess telling Andy “today was crazy, mom was crying just like I do and I thought she was going to kill our dog!”  Poor kid. She’s 3 months old and is already going to need therapy.

"My mom is clinically insane. Help!"

While yesterday was a complete shit-show, it put a mirror up to my face and told me to chill the f out about naps.  Today she had her usual morning nap in her bassinet, I tried putting her down for a nap in her crib late morning and she wasn’t interested. So rather than fight her on it, I gave in and cuddled her for a bit longer.  A while later, I tried again and she fell right to sleep - no problem.  Right now she’s sleeping in her swing.  A little later I’m going to take her for a walk. And the dogs get locked up during naptime now. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and I can’t expect to completely change everything over night. Besides, she sleeps great! What is my problem? I need to just be grateful for the fact that I have a 3 month old that sleeps 12 hours a night.  Slowly I’ll start trying to get her to sleep in her crib more but for now, I’ll take what I can get. 

Happy well-rested baby.

Gramma visits!!!

Hey everyone, Tess here.  I asked my mom to help me type this because I wanted to be the one to tell you about how my Gramma came to visit me last week!  Oh my gosh, I am just the luckiest little baby in the world. My Gramma came here on a train, I don’t really know what that means quite yet because I’ve never seen one of these things… but I do know that it took her an entire DAY to get here!  That’s like, 2% of my life so that seems like a reeeeeeeeeaaaaaalllly long time to me!  Although… being on a train for that long probably seemed like 2% of her life to her too.

I was so happy to see Gramma when she finally got here!

I think she was happy to see me too...

But once she finally got here, we just had the best time!  Mom likes to stay busy a lot, she’s always making me take boring naps in my boring crib and runs around doing laundry and writing messages to you guys while I sleep.  But Gramma came here and all she wanted to do was snuggle me! It was the best week ever.  Every nap I took was in her arms!!!  She was so warm and snuggly, I was just so happy.  I am gonna have a talk with mom about letting me take more naps in her arms instead of my crib. 

Snuggle times!

We also did a lot of new fun stuff!  She read me all my books and I couldn’t really follow along with the words, but I LOVED looking at the pictures.  Dr. Seuss was my favorite, especially the ABC book. I’m gonna have to study those letters more with mom now so I can read these books to myself someday soon.  I think yellow is my favorite color.  I really love looking at the color yellow in these books.  Mom didn’t really realize that I was going to enjoy books so soon, so she hadn’t started reading them to me. But Gramma knew better and we showed mom how much I love being read to.  Which is awesome because now mom is reading to me everyday.  It's the best.

Me and Gramma reading Dr. Seuss.

Gramma is a good reader.

Dad's been reading to me too!  

Gramma also kept warning Mom that my first word will be the F word.  I don’t really know what that means quite yet, but I’m sure I will soon enough!  Whatever it is, Mom really likes it and says it a lot! Sounds like a great word!  Very versatile.

Laughing at Mom.

One thing that I didn’t like so much was Mom made me dress up in this girlie outfit Gramma bought me.  I don’t like getting dressed up at ALL – you can see here how little I like it:

Me the first time they tried to put me in this dress.  

And the shoes! Ah! I hated it.

Me in another fancy dress at Christmas.  Was. Not. Happy.

But since I love my Gramma and Mom told me I only had to wear it for a few minutes, I humored them and wore it for a bit. It made Gramma happy so it was worth it.

You can see in my eyes that I'm not really diggin' it but I gave in anyway.

Very skeptical.

One night Mom and Dad went out on the town.  They like drinking this funny stuff that makes them laugh a lot and makes their breath smells funny. Not sure why they like it, I prefer mom’s milk.  But Gramma and I hung out and partied.  It was awesome. I think we probably had much more fun than Mom and Dad.  Here was the text we sent to them:

Here they are on their date:  

"Painting the town red."

They weren't gone very long, they only had 2 of those drinks I mentioned earlier and here is a picture of them when they got home!  Its like they’re overtired for some reason! Jeez.

Another thing we did was play with some of my toys.  Mom has been setting me up with some toys already, but Gramma and I worked on grasping things with my hands. I just stare at my hands sometimes and think what a resource these things could be if I could just figure out how to control them. What power I could wield!  Gramma would hold up this little bear rattle for me, and while I love that little bear, the bastard (another cool word Mom taught me) would taunt me knowing he was just out of my reach.  But he’ll be sorry one day, because Gramma - and mom now too - have been helping me try to figure out how to get him.  Every day I get a little closer.  She’ll pull him out and at first I just stare into his eyes.  I’ll say “Ahhh… so we meet again, my fickle friend.” And I just get so close, sometimes I will actually wrap my little fingers around him but I can’t hold on for long.  Sometimes I get frustrated and let out a little squeal.  But I compose myself, punch him in his stupid little head (I’m REALLY good at making a fist so far) and try again. Sometimes I just wrap my arms around him and hug him instead since that’s all I can manage.  I am still trying to decide if I love or hate him. I’ll keep you posted.

This is a picture of me with another one of my toys that makes me a lil happier.

My worthy adversary is in the foreground.  

Other than that, we spent some time enjoying the nice weather. Apparently, up where Gramma lives there is lots of frozen white stuff covering the ground and it is MUCH colder.  We went to the Marlay House one afternoon and also went on some walks.  One day while Dad was at work, Gramma thought she could control the furry babies that live in our house while we went out for a walk.  (We have wild animals living in our house, did you know that?  Its like we live in a zoo!)  But the furry babies are much naughtier than I am, and run around like crazy.  I think they were trying to tie Gramma up with the long cords Mom ties to their necks.  We all laughed a lot about that. 

As usual, Mom bundled me up like we were up where Gramma lives!

Dad is the best at wrangling the furry babies.

The whole fam at the Marlay House, our favorite pub.

Sadly, after a glorious 6 days we had to say good-bye to Gramma so she could take the train home again.  I was so sad, but she made it very clear how much she loves me so I know she’ll be back to see me soon.  I think my mom was even more sad than me though.  She cried like I do when I am super hungry!  I thought only babies did that.  Weird.  But I know after this week that Mom, Gramma, and I are thick as thieves and we are going to have so much fun together over the years.  I can’t wait to see what kind of trouble we all get into together in April when we go up to her home to visit!

Do you know what “emesis” means?

My title is a take on my favorite line from one of my favorite movies, Snatch.  The line actually goes “Do you know what nemesis means?”  Instead here I’m talking about MY nemesis : emesis.  Spit-up, sick, vomit, barf, throw-up, the expulsion of the contents of ones guts through the mouth and/or nose - PUKE!

"I am awesome at puking!!!"

Bricktop explains in the movie, nemesis is defined as “A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent, personified in this case by a horrible [expletive deleted] : me.”  

Or... personified in MY life as Tess’ inability to keep her esophageal sphincter functioning as a one-way street.

Babies spit-up, we all know that.  Its part of life.  But Tess spits-up a LOT.  Like, constantly. Not just after eating. We’re talking after she eats, right before she’s supposed to eat again, while eating, while sleeping, while pooping – constantly!  And excessively. Its voluminous.  On her worst days she goes through 15 bibs, 5 outfits, 3 boppy covers, 2 sets of sheets and a partridge in a pear tree. That’s not to mention the clothing I go through from being puked on.  I wish it were summer so I could just keep her in a diaper all day and skip clothes all together.  People said my life was going to be made difficult from all the extra laundry from using cloth diapers, but trust: the laundry from cloth diapers ain’t nuthin’ compared to the laundry I do from puke. 

How I would prefer to dress Tess.
She's pointing and looking at me like she's thinking 

"Mom, take that picture of me without a shirt on and you will regret it!"

The excessive puking didn’t start immediately.  I was lulled into a false sense of security when we first got home with Tess where I could feed her, burp her briefly then put her down to sleep.  Then at about 3 weeks old she changed her tune.  You can read “Aunt Wendy Visits” to get a glimpse into how it started.  Fortunately, my sister was here then to introduce me to the concept of bibs.  I surely would have lost my mind by now if it weren’t for bibs. 

This is my personal favorite bib of Tess'

"My mom is hot."

The puking ramped up quickly over a few days and then was accompanied by excessive crying – screaming, really – about an hour after she would eat.  It was horrible.  I did some research and learned about how some babies have a sensitivity to cow’s milk proteins in mama’s diet that get into breast milk.  I also noticed the worst day we had with the spit up and crying was after I had a pasta with a creamy sauce for dinner, cereal with milk for breakfast the next morning, and a cheese sandwich with a yogurt for lunch.  It didn’t take me long to put 2 and 2 together and think about the possibility that Tess might have this sensitivity I was reading about. 

This is probably my sister's favorite bib. 

"My auntie rocks."

Now, I'm guessing somewhere around half of my calories probably come from dairy.  I drink a LOT of milk, cheese, yogurt, ice cream, butter… the list goes on.  You know, all the stuff that makes food taste good!!! I looooove dairy.  But I love a happy baby more, so while I was loath to do it, I immediately cut dairy out of my life.  I also lost 7 pounds in the process, despite eating like a pig!  (Making breast milk makes me HONGRAY!!!)

And this is probably my mom's favorite: 

"Grandma is simply the best."

Unfortunately, those cow proteins are sticky and take a while to clear out of your system.  You have to give up dairy for at least 2 weeks before your breast milk is completely free of all the cow’s milk proteins. I did feel like the post-prandial screaming was starting to dissipate after about 4 or 5 dairy-free days, though.  I had to bring Tess for a weight check at that point, so I asked the pediatrician about it.  She told me to keep going with the dairy-free diet, but also told me about these Bio-Gaia pro-biotic drops.  Apparently some babies don’t have enough of the bacteria lactobacillus and can have troubles digesting food properly without it. The doc said it couldn’t hurt Tess to use the drops and it was worth a shot.  Done! I was convinced.  I went straight to Walgreens to get a vial – they are damn expensive though.  $30 for not quite a month’s worth.  But between the drops and/or my diet change, Tess’ symptoms improved.  She stopped the crazy fussiness almost completely. 

Red Sox bib.  Nice.

Although... since it is something that gets puked on, maybe we should get a Yankees bib???

But… she is still a puker!  OMG! Don’t get me wrong, I’d much rather deal with puke than tears since she doesn’t appear to be suffering or unhappy!  But it is still excessive. It also waxes and wanes.  I notice that the first feeding I do in the morning is the least “pukey,” then mid-morning is the most “pukey” usually.  Some days are better than others.  And being a scientist I over analyze everything to try to find a cause – trying to gather evidence so I can come to a conclusion.  But maybe this isn’t a “cause-and-effect” type of thing, but just a “babies-are-finicky-and-unpredictable” kind of thing?

Our burping routine, we spend much time in this position every day...

Whatever it is, yesterday was suddenly one of the worst days! It was like the days before giving up dairy and introducing the drops.  Here is a picture of the laundry basket filled with items soaked in puke accumulated between 4am and 8am:

That basket comes mid-way up my thigh!  

She was not only spitting up far more than usual that morning, but was super fussy too.  Tess has been sleeping from 7pm until anywhere between 4 and 6am.  That night, however, she started waking up at 1am and was pissed off all through the night... and into the whole next day.

Pink leopard print bib.  Very sexy.

I did eat pancakes made with milk and also had a dessert that had a little milk in it the previous day.  I read that baked goods that contain dairy products should be fine, but apparently not?  For the last 5 weeks I’ve been 100% dairy free, but then had 2 food items that had a minimal amount of milk in them and then Tess was super pukey and fussy.  It would make sense that that was what caused her fussiness/pukiness.  But seriously, 1 cup of milk divided between 3 of us in pancakes???  Then there was a ½ cup of milk in the dessert I made, which I had about 1/10^th of!  Could that have really been the problem?  Who knows, but I’m going to avoid ANYTHING even with the tiniest bit of milk just in case. 

Heart-shaped bib.

Or maybe its dairy AND something else in my diet?  It does appear that it might be related to what I’m eating since, like I said, it waxes and wanes.  But I haven’t been able to identify anything else.  

At our 2 month check up I asked about it again, and basically if a baby is gaining weight, they don’t care about spitting up.  Tess was born at 9 pounds, went down to 8 pounds in the first few days after her birth and was 11 pounds at her 2 month check up.  As her physician put it – her weight gain is extraordinary.  Its possible I’m over-feeding her since she spits up so much, and is gaining so much weight… but when I try to feed her less she gets pissed off.  And still pukes. 

In prime position to soak my shirt.

The upshot of all of this is, the doctors aren’t concerned and basically just told me to buy some bibs and deal with it.  And it should stop when we introduce solid foods.  My mom - who is here visiting right now- thinks this is just Tess’ way of telling us she wants a steak for dinner. Mom also said my brother Ron was a puker when he was a baby.  If this means Tess will end up being like her Uncle Ron, who was the coolest guy I've ever known, it'll be worth it.

"Ron's world!"

Anyone who knew Ron knows what this means...

In the mean time, good thing she looks so cute in a bib!!!

And wearing a bib doesn't appear to impede her ability to play, either: