When you’re pregnant (at least noticeably), people will engage you in small talk about your due date, what you are having, what you are naming it, etc.  After you actually have the baby, strangers will flock to you with even more gusto.  This is not something I had anticipated as I am not one of those people who randomly engages strangers in conversation.  We can’t go ANYWHERE without people talking to us about Holden.  Or worse yet, trying to touch him.  Last week, we went to the hospital to get Holden’s bilirubin levels checked again.  As we sat in the waiting room, two middle-aged women asked me about Holden.  

“What is his name?” MA-woman #1 asks

“Holden Sterling” I reply, hoping the questioning would end there.

“Oh, what an official-sounding name.  He should be an attorney.” MA-woman #1 posits.

“Or a governor,” MA-woman #2 adds, in an effort to one-up MA-woman #1.

“He should be someone important,” MA-woman #1 asserts.

Luckily, we were called to the back to get the bloodwork done at that point, ending this exchange more abruptly than MA-woman #1 and 2 had hoped.  At the Farmer’s Market on Saturday, we were exposed to even more unexpected commentary.  A black woman with dreadlocks came up to us on her bike as we sat at a bench in the middle of the market.  

“She is just the sweetest, she dark y’know, I know y’all white people don’t like to be told ya’lls baby look black, but that kind of thing skips a generation, y’know.  Let me see her fingernails, oh yeah, she definitely gonna stay dark.”

Rob and I just laughed because—well, it’s funny.  In less than a week, strangers have remarked that my baby is a black, female, future governor (or attorney).  Yet, when I look at Holden, I see a sweet baby who needs assistance eating, bathing, getting dressed, and cleaning himself up.  If he were in his 80s or 90s, he would qualify for assisted living with that sort of behavioral repertoire, but nobody says “Gee, your baby should really be in a nursing home,” which at this point, would be a far more accurate commentary on his abilities and characteristics.  

What I have discovered is that people will completely and TOTALLY ignore both you and your baby if you simply breastfeed in public.  Once I started feeding Holden on that bench, I achieved an invisibility that was not only welcome, but was required for my continued sanity.  Our relationship with boobs as a culture is kind of weird that way:  Scantily clad woman with cleavage- and midriff-baring top = unlimited attention.  Discreetly breastfeeding momma = worse than leprosy.  I prefer to be the leper—it affords a sort of annonymity that I find refreshing.

Holden turned 3 weeks old on Sunday and we celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary.  Here is a picture from our wedding 7 years ago (photo by our friend Doug Haley):

For our anniversary this year, we went to Tilley’s for some yummy seafood.  The boy was well-behaved the entire time.  Rob’s folks sent us an edible arrangement for our anniversary which was as delicious as it was pretty to look at.  Holden liked looking at it too:

Happy Anniversary Rob!  I hope you know how much I love you!

My mom came for a visit last week and Holden absolutely adored her.  He was all smiles and wide eyes for his grandma:

It was a huge help to have my mom here for the week.  I had a chance to shower, eat, and nap.  Now I’m on my own again!   Mom also did the sweetest thing while here–she had a baby bootie-shaped vase filled with a beautiful flower arrangement.  This same vase was used to deliver flowers to her when I was born 30 years ago!  Yes, the vase is pink, but as my mom noted, I may never have a daughter, so now is the time to make the gesture…it was really such a heartwarming gesture!

I know you don’t have Internet and can’t read this, but we love you Mom!

A few cloth diapering-related things:

1. Not as hard as everyone seems to think it is.  You’re changing them anyway, just put the little guy in something that surely feels more comfortable.
2. The Snappis are actually kinda sharp.  You won’t stick yourself like you might with a pin.  But watch out for those teeth.
   
3. Doesn’t really make that much more laundry.  Seriously.  Maybe we just have a lot of diapers.  But this really isn’t a concern and I can’t fathom why this is such a sticking point for some people.  Either you’re doing an extra load or two of laundry each week.  Or you’re hauling an extra garbage bag or two to the curb each week.
4. We decided to make our own wipes, as well.  We received some of the wipes as Baby Shower gifts (thanks!) and keep them in the wipes warmer (another gift, thanks!).  Again, it seems like it’s more comfortable for H. to get wiped with one of these than some disposable wipe.
5. While we’re talking about wipes…  “Making our own wipes” really means making the solution that goes over the glorified handkerchiefs in the warmer.  A. found a great recipe that’s 4 cups of water plus 2 tablespoons of olive oil.  Smells great, non-toxic, works like a charm.  But I’ll be damned if I don’t feel like I’m marinading the boy every time I change him.

Holden is a mighty boy.  He is now 22 inches long and weighs 9 lbs, 15 oz.  I knew he was close to 10 lbs!  All of that feeding is getting us some results finally!  The doctor had us go back to the hospital today to have his bilirubin levels checked again, just to be sure that they have dropped.  Holden is an old pro at having his heel pricked; he didn’t even seem to notice that he was having his heel squeezed for little drops of blood.  He is just so unbelievably mellow!  The doctor did express concern that he is still occasionally using the nipple shield to nurse.  Apparently, the shield can interfere with oxytocin release and can thus attenuate milk production.  We are doing our best to wean him away from the shield, but sometimes it’s the only way to get him to latch on.  We’ll get there eventually.

I went to the doctor today myself.  I haven’t had a primary care physician since I was a kid and was still seeing a pediatrician.  There were many years where I didn’t have health insurance, and once I finally got some coverage, I was fully entrenched in the pattern of not going to a doctor unless I felt like I was going to die.  Yesterday I discovered a massive bull’s eye type bug bite on my left leg.  It was unmistakable, and while I have had my share of bug bites, I’ve never had one quite like this one.  Of course, everyone around me started to freak out and insist I go to the doctor.  “It could be a bite from a tick that carries Lyme Disease, blah blah blah.”  Ordinarily, I don’t go to the doctor for bug bites (because that seems so silly), but because everyone was making such a big deal out of it, I relented and decided to go.  I found a doctor who would see me right away and of course he didn’t seem convinced that it was anything to worry about.  Yippee!  One less thing to worry about.  The doctor’s office did weigh me and I am 22 lbs. above my pre-pregnancy weight.  Ugh.  I can’t wait to be able to exercise again and lose that weight.  When I first moved to VT I was at the weight that I am now and it took quite a while to get my weight down to a reasonable level.  I am hoping that breastfeeding expedites the process so that I have more to wear than the few pairs of maternity pants and tops that I acquired during my pregnancy.  I have a coupon for a free session of postnatal yoga at the yoga studio where I took my prenatal yoga classes—maybe I should start thinking about exercising there once I get the OK from my midwife at my 6-week postpartum check-up.