Horrors that have new meaning

One of the changes I did not expect is to suddenly fear the horrible:
- the idea of Chris dying in some horrible tragic accident before the baby was born
- the idea of me suffering some debilitating trauma after the baby was born
- imagining, while gazing at the innocence of my sleeping child, what it must be like in real life for babies to be neglected: the scene in Trainspotting comes to mind
- the starving mothers who look into the eyes of their hungry babies whom they can't feed

These thoughts are heavy and sad.
But they make me aware of how fortunate I am, and I squeeze Zenas a little tighter.

First Smile

To his mother, on his 27th day on Earth.

Waking up in Africa

Every so often Chris or I look at the other and say, "we have a son." Incredulous, hysterical, frightened, giddy--all at once.

I've had to ask some of our already-experienced parent friends why they didn't adequately warn us about what it's really like. I mean, we did hear a lot about the lack of sleep, our lives changing forever, etc.. But no one really sat us down, in a formal way as I would now find appropriate, to detail the vast range and depth of emotions and experiences we'd go through in such a short amount of time. We've had more intimate and unforgettable moments in the last month than we have in the previous year.

As Aaron said, "well it's like waking up one day in Africa, and trying to describe it to someone who's never been." Well put.

First Bath

We were instructed to wait until your umbilical cord detached.
You were eighteen days old when we ropped up your blue whale bathtub in the kitchen sink at our apartment on Masonic Avenue; you'd only had sponge baths until then.

You gave a tiny cry from the shock of the water, then quickly calmed down though your tiny firsts stayed clenched. We were careful to keep your face dry as we washed your hair, then each arm, your front, your legs, your back, and finally your tush--all the while trying you keep you covered so that you didn't get cold. Papa wrapped you in your hooded towel like a porcelain doll, and clutched you against his chest all the way to your room where we dried you, clothed you, and brushed your hair.

Conquer and Defeat

Conquer:
- for the first time since his birth I managed to jump in the shower while at home alone with Zenas (previously too terrified to leave him unattended, even in a state of deep sleep in the baby jail also known as a crib)

Defeat:
- immediately after stepping out of the shower I gazed down while toweling off only to be confronted by not only the evidence but the realization of not having even thought about shaving my legs for over a month

Mothers and Daughters

A hastily shortened visit from my mother makes me feel really grateful I have a son.

Hello after 10 days

I had to resort to a non-individual email after discovering it's true what they say about this whole baby thing... I'm in a deep haze of combat sleep and constant activity, though at the end of the day it feels like I did nothing--I have literally piles of good intentions in the form of phone calls to make, emails/cards to send, bills, projects, more sleep, but they all remain untouched. Chris has to remind me that we are successful in one important thing: we have managed to take care of our baby who, thankfully, continues to be breathing every time we nervously check. In fact he seems to be growing and changing already. Nothing or no one has ever been cuter in our eyes.

We have loved all the well wishes. It's been such a treat to have a big happy ongoing celebration. If you've mentioned visiting, yes we'd love to have you meet the little guy; if you've offered food, thank you so much and we promise to gladly take you up on it, as soon as we figure out our schedule of visiting family; thank you again for the gifts, kind words, support, and thoughts. Please forgive the lack of response--and keep trying if you don't reach us, since our schedule and attention span is erratic. :-)

A brief summary for now: We love, love, love our little guy. He's healthy and sturdy (peasant stock, I tell you)--at birth he outweighed everyone else in the nursery by at least a pound. He's started gaining weight a week earlier than the average kid, and we're already doing that new-parent thing of believing that our child is indeed very special. Chris and I have an ongoing rivalry of which of us he resembles the most. At birth Zenas looked very Asian in features, but with a white complexion. Now at 10 days he looks very different already; Chris thinks that the Burns side is coming out more and more each day. I remind him daily that my genes are dominant and will crush his hopes for an eye color other than brown. Our first 10 days have been dramatic starting with the unexpected surgery/recovery, followed by a comical but truly painful situation of my body producing such an overabundance of milk that the hospital staff and subsequently hired lactation consultant (yes that's really a job title in this new world we've suddenly entered) disbelieved my claims until shown otherwise, but then said, "wow good job mommy!" I hadn't thought before of how mammary is very close to momma, mommy, mama, etc..

What we have managed to accomplish, again painfully aware that we are becoming the kind of new parents so in love with their child that they are annoying--is to take photos. If you'd like to indulge us, please check out our pride and joy here:
http://gallery.me.com/marizawa#100136

And though we are weary from sleep deprivation, we are for the most part deliriously happy. We've decided to keep him. :)