Relax

Brian and I were supposed to go canoeing today for my birthday. His mom was coming up to babysit, and we were going to take a paddle and then go out to dinner. We've only seen the sun for bits and spurts all week, but today was simply steady rain. We aren't afraid of a little rain mind you. We did an all day paddle and nearly got hypothermia a few years ago (also a birthday outing, hmmm maybe canoeing and my birthday don't mix), but we decided we didn't need to do it again. Maybe a movie? Nothing playing near us looked appealing. What to do, what to do.

Ah, a hot tub and massage. Just the thing.

We had talked about doing just that after Henry died, but neither of us was motivated enough to make a plan. And then I got pregnant and the hot tub was out (though help in relaxing was needed more than ever). So we finally got around to it today. I wouldn't have minded the massage going on longer, but it was good. Lots of tightness melting away.

Then a yummy dinner out—sea scallops with a ginger, carrot, orange butter, grilled asparagus, and roasted potatoes/sweet potatoes. We ended our meal with a peach lambic. (If you have never tasted a peach lambic, you really should. Brian proposed to me over peach lambic, and we toasted with peach lambic at our wedding.) This place has it on tap, which is even yummier.

And then I came home to a girl who was starting to get sleepy, who woke right up when she saw me, and was delighted to see me. She smiled and smiled and laughed and babbled.

I had had a lovely day despite the rain and our change of plan. But even a crappy day would have turned around with that welcome home.

Namesake

Kathleen was named after Brian's sister. Today, we marked the one-year anniversary of Auntie Kathleen, or Auntie K. It's hard to believe it has been a year.

We announced my pregnancy with Kathleen early, much earlier than I would have. But we knew Kathleen was dying, and Brian wanted to give the news to his sister, to let her enjoy that news for as long as possible. After we shared the news, Kathleen told Brian's mom that she already knew we were pregnant, that she had had a dream in which the Virgin Mary told her that we were going to have a little girl and that her name would be Avery.

A couple of months later, Kathleen died, and Brian and I agreed we would name the baby Kathleen if it was a girl, and to fulfill Auntie K's dream we would use Avery as a middle name. And of course we did have a girl, and we named her Kathleen Avery.

Our Kathleen's namesake lived with a wonderful grace and enthusiasm and humor. I hope our Kathleen will share these qualities. I wish she would have a chance to know her aunt, just as I wish she would have the chance to grow up with her brother.

Tonight, as I do most nights, as I rocked Kathleen to sleep, I sang to her of the story of her name and of the aunt who dreamed of her before she was born, the aunt she will know only in pictures and stories and song.

To Auntie K, we miss you.

Another Year Older

Happy Birthday to me.
Please feel use my birthday as an excuse to indulge in some cake and ice cream.
I'm off to get some ice cream now, myself.

6 Thoughts* at 6 Months

* And 4 pictures at Sally's request—and an UPDATE



Kathleen hit the six-month mark yesterday. I can't believe how quickly this time has gone, how big she has gotten, and how much she has changed. And I can't believe how much she does that Henry never did already, while she is still within his lifespan.

Kathleen is on the verge of rolling over. I've been saying it for about three months now, but I think now it is really true. She goes from back to side regularly, and I can see her just itching to get to a toy that's just beyond her reach. Right now she kind of tumbles out of tummy time into a roll onto her back. Henry rolled over—twice. It was the last night he was home, and he was so riled up with his stomach bug that he managed to get himself over. I didn't see it though.
SHE DID IT! Today, she did her flop and roll from her belly to her back, and then, as I was coming back from brining out the trash, I saw her get from side to belly. I'm so impressed!


We've started solids—oatmeal, squash, rice cereal, pears, sweet potatoes. I'm a fan of the pears and sweet potatoes myself. Tomorrow we start avocado or banana, which ever is riper. I've been pureeing the food myself, just like I planned to do for Henry.


I play music for Kathleen as part of her bedtime routine, either You Are My Little Bird (song 7 onward) or an instrumental CD my sister gave us. (Cait's mom, I sing too!) The CD player in Kathleen's room is a little portable one. It has a piece of medical tape on it that says Henry B— from when Henry was in the hospital. I don't want to leave it there forever, but I can't quite make myself pull it off.

I've been working a lot lately. A lot meaning several hours outside of the time that Kathleen naps in the morning. I'm surprised by how much I miss my baby girl in that time, and I feel lucky that I work at home and can control my hours somewhat.

Can we slow things down a bit? This is all flying by in too much of a blur. I soak up and savor something each day.

Ah, the wonder.

Happy Baby

I did yoga all through both of my pregnancies. With Henry, I took tough intermediate level classes up through seven months and a prenatal class; with Kathleen I went more for meditation and easy beginner. One day the teacher had us do happy baby pose. Feet up in the air. Hands on feet. "Think of your favorite baby," she said. "Or," standing over me, "your favorite baby to be."

It was the one time I had to leave class. I wept my way through half the classes I took when I was pregnant, but that day, I walked out of the room. I stood in the bathroom and gasped and cried. I couldn't think of my favorite baby to be, only my favorite baby who had been, my favorite baby whose feet I'd never see sticking up in the air.

Henry was a pretty happy baby despite everything he went through. On more than one occasion he pulled me back from the brink of despair with his smile, his big, bright smile that seemed to light up his whole body.

When I was pregnant with Kathleen I worried about her happiness. I worried that to get a healthy baby I'd have to trade off happiness. I worried that the tears I shed nearly, if not every day, the pall of sorrow that hung over me would seep into her as she grew in me. So I prayed for her to be healthy and happy and whole and I told her how much I wanted her, despite my tears, despite my lack of delight and anticipation.

And she is happy. She has a smile as bright as her brother's and a ready laugh. She makes me smile too.