The Perils and Perks of Traveling with Sam to Find a House

So, we did it: we took our first of many cross-country flights with a very small companion in tow. We spent ten hours on planes, seven nights in hotel/guest rooms, and approximately twenty four hours in cars. The long and the short of it is that traveling with a baby is no joke, but it is totally do-able. Provided you're willing to laugh at critical moments.

The Peril: Airport diaper blowout. I live to tell about it. However, those automatic airport sinks, which dispense water in teaspoonful increments, are not so great for doing emergency wash. So, a onesie bites the dust.

The Perk: Getting to use the wheelchair line to go through security.

The Peril: Removing a sleeping baby from his stroller to carry him through the metal detector and waiting forever while his formula bottles are scanned in a fancy microscope thingy.

The Perk: Pre-boarding. It doesn't matter what cheap-o seat you book, passengers with small children get to board first. Take that, First Class Diamond Traveler Who Paid $200 Extra for Free Drinks!

The Perk: Benevolent smiles from kind strangers. Also, Sam behaves perfectly on the plane. Although he is not amused when I make him try on my hat (see iPhone photos below). 

The Peril: Arriving in San Francisco at midnight and realizing that the infant insert of our car seat somehow has been completely ripped off the seat. Luckily, Sam is too big for it anyway, but I stand in the complaint line nonetheless.

The Perk: Convincing Delta to write us a check for $150 to cover the cost of a whole new car seat.

The Peril: Trying to check out at the rental car place and realizing the car reservation is booked in the wrong name. We sit in the parking deck in the dark for 30 minutes while it gets sorted out.

The Peril: Arriving at our hotel at 2 am to find that it looks like a seedy motel. Also, asking for the crib we had reserved and hearing the guy say, "Hm, let me see if I can find it. Do you need it tonight?" Then, he drags a HUGE metal hospital-style crib into our room, teaches himself how to build it, and throws a queen bedsheet into it.

The Perk: Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. Also, the Persian restaurant a half mile from our hotel. One word: Falafel. Also, coffee.

The Peril: Monday morning phone call from our real estate agent. She broke her foot and is off the job.

The Perk: We get a new agent, British, fabulous accent, hilarious personality. When we hit traffic or red lights, which she knows Sam does not tolerate, she says things like "fffff....fiddlesticks," "oh poo poo poo," and "oopsie daisies."

The Peril: Two out of three days of house hunting, the new agent forgets all of her papers on her kitchen counter. She lives an hour away. She doesn't have a smartphone. She navigates the Bay area with an atlas. So I help navigate with my iPhone while frantically entertaining Sam with my foot and anything else that could possibly be interesting to a four month old.

The Peril: Our agent rolls through every single stop sign. Finally, on the third day, she gets a ticket. She is mortified. She continues rolling through every single stop sign.

The Perk: Also on the third day, we find our dream house.

The Peril: The dream house is only available for a nine month lease.

The Perk: We find another house. It's beautiful. We take it. (Sneak peek photos coming soon.)

The Peril: Jordan's work computer decides to kick the bucket.

The Peril: Sam really needs a bath. So, we stuff a towel in the hotel sink and plop him in. Works great.

The Perk: Everything we eat is gold. Thank you, California, for having amazing food on every corner. Also, Sam sees the Pacific Ocean. He is not impressed.

The Peril: On the trip home, Sam's formula bottles throw a false positive for dangerous chemicals in the special scanner thingy. Jordan has to get a full-body pat down.
The Peril: Airplane diaper blowout. My worst fear comes to pass, but it isn't as big a deal as I imagined. Another onesie bites the dust. Also, Sam has a random crying fit in the middle of the flight. The emergency supply of earplugs I had packed for my fellow passengers are buried out of reach. (Luckily, he is only inconsolable for a little while, and the noise of the plane is so loud that the crying isn't terribly disruptive.)

The Perk: An extraordinarily overpriced airplane margarita. Never in my life have I ordered a drink on an airplane, but this time I feel that I quite deserve it. And it is delicious.

The Peril: Back in Atlanta claiming our baggage, and Sam's car seat base is nowhere to be found. I trudge back to the Delta complaint line. I get my turn to complain, only to be told that "car seat parts are always sent to the oversized baggage claim section." The base is tiny, I tell you. But, sure enough, there it is, hiding pitifully among the golf clubs and mammoth sound systems. 

To sum up, what are the lessons I learned about traveling with a small companion? Roll with the punches. Forget about what the people around you think, and just do what needs to be done. Buy yourself a drink. And it really won't be so bad. :)

Westward

Finally, I can reveal a big secret that we've been sitting on...

We are moving to California!

At the end of September, we are going to load up our stuff, our kid, and our adventure pants and head west for a two-year stint near San Francisco. Jordan was asked to take on a short-term assignment to provide local support for one of his company's major Silicon Valley customers. After a lot of deliberating, praying, and scheming, we agreed to go.

When the opportunity first presented itself last fall, our attitude was basically, "Sounds like a blast, but...". We have a house and a home in Atlanta. We have family and dear friends and a church in Atlanta. Most of our connections and people are on the East coast. We have a baby. [Insert 100 other reasons here.]

But we didn't feel right about discarding the opportunity altogether without consideration. It's not usually a great idea to rule out something God is putting in front of you as an option (ie. "we would never do that"), regardless of whether it turns out to be the option you choose. So we left the idea on the table. Besides...it's San Francisco. And it would only be a two year contract. We started talking and dreaming and Googling, very secretly, over dinners and coffees and long drives on Georgia highways. Slowly, we started to wrap our minds around what it would entail to pick up and move to California for two years.

We made a mental list of pros: Important career move for Jordan. A chance to live near my grandmother, aunt, uncle, and cousin. The food (oh, baby, the food). The opportunity to experience a different community of believers and friends. Travel. Tartine Bakery. 

There are some definite cons, though, and they have given us pause. We've thought long and hard about the implications of moving away from our community, family, friends, and house. Ultimately, we've decided that, in this season, it's important for us to make this move as a family of three. And as much as our Atlanta home will change in the time we are gone, we are glad to know that we can come right back when our mission is done.

Photo taken with my grandmother last year in Carmel. She's an adventure on two feet, and I'm looking forward to getting roped into her schemes more often. Oh, and eating her good cooking.

In terms of the craziness of traveling cross-country and up and down the West coast with a baby, I explained it to a friend this way: whether we travel or stay home, I'll be wrangling Sam. I might as well be wrangling him in airports and cars and new places! I know it will be challenging, but I consider it a worthwhile challenge. And I'm truly excited to bring him on expeditions and introduce him to his surroundings...in Atlanta, San Francisco, and wherever else we end up.

This weekend, we will be flying out to California for a week, Sam in tow, to choose a locale, scope out a place to live, and get our bearings. I'm planning to bring plenty of ear plugs and candy bars of gratitude for our fellow travelers on the plane. The more Sam complains, the more candy I hand out. Sounds like a good plan, right? ;)

-elise

Milk

Sometimes I feel like I'm walking around with a big red letter "F" stamped on my forehead. My son eats formula. And he is thriving.

The first Sunday we brought Sam to church, hunger struck during the sermon, so off we went to the nursing room. I marched in, found the only open seat, tried not to make eye contact with anyone, and popped open the NeoSure bottle. I truly don't think there was any judgement or pity in that room other than what I projected on the situation in my mind. I know that most, if not all, of the women in that room would have hugged me and told me it was okay, had I given them the chance.

Still, I considered making a sandwich board that said something like, "YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW" to wear to church the next Sunday. The fine print would read: 3 months, 2 hospitals, 3 breast pumps, 9 lactation consultants, 12 lactation consultations, 5 nipple shields, 3 ENT doctors, 160 fenugreek capsules, 1 week of fenugreek allergies, 100 days of pumping, 100 gallons of water, 2 SNS devices, 8 boxes of Mother's Milk tea, 60 bowls of oatmeal, 4 mouth issues that make it impossible for Sam to nurse...well, I'd probably stop there. 

Why am I sharing this on this blog? If I'm honest, probably because it's a good stand-in for that sandwich board :). Or because I think it's important to share the tough along with the happy, and you should know that as put together as Sam's nursery looks, we've had our share of struggles in that plush glider. Or because I was shielded from stories like this before I had a baby, and so I was blindsided by our situation. I knew nursing would be tricky, but surely we could pull it off with a little effort and patience and watching movies to stay sane, right?

I'm only something like 37% old hippie soul, but I wanted to have a natural birth, and, by golly, I was going to nurse. I thought the birth would be the thing to really test my limits. Nope. I made it through the birth without completely losing it (that's another story). It was nursing and pumping that almost did me in. 

Sam was bottle and tube fed for three weeks in the hospital. During the first week, he had pretty bad jaundice, so I was only able to take him out of the incubator to hold him once a day. No nursing allowed. Finally, the second week, he was taken off of phototherapy and we were cleared to nurse once or twice a day. With a lot of coaxing, he did relatively well at it for a preemie. We were sent home with vague instructions to "just" increase nursing little by little until we phased out formula and supplements completely. But, at home, we would try nursing, and he would cry and kick and fuss. So would I (although I let out more four letter words than he did). After a couple weeks of struggling, he finally settled into it a little. We had about three weeks where he nursed a LOT...practically all day. But by the evening he would be frantic, even with supplements during the day. And my once-decent supply plummeted. The more I nursed, the more my supply tanked. It didn't make sense. The LCs were at a loss and chalked it up to a supply problem, offering me prescription drugs and pitying looks. So I launched out on my own, trying everything I could think of to boost my supply in between nursing sessions. I resumed pumping around the clock (how do you think I had time to start this blog? I have my hands-free rig to thank). I would nurse, bottle feed, and pump, in a never-ending cycle. Meanwhile, Sam resumed his nursing rebellion. Civil War caliber this time. (No muskets, but there were fingernails.)

Finally, just after Sam turned three months old, a friend recommended that I meet with the best LC in town, who specializes in diagnosing mouth issues that inhibit effective nursing. She was the first LC to actually look in Sam's mouth, and when she did, she immediately saw that he had a lip tie, a tongue tie, a recessed chin, and a high palate. Because of those factors, Sam had never actually been able to get enough suction to draw out milk. (Hallelujah...a tangible answer!) So, she sent us to the only ENT in Atlanta who will clip tongue and lip ties without a "medical" reason, in hopes that it would improve Sam's suction enough to allow him to latch. 

A few weeks ago, we had the procedure done on Sam's lip and tongue. It was extremely quick, and his mouth healed overnight, but in terms of nursing, we didn't see the miraculous results that some people see. Sam had become so turned off to nursing that our sessions were still incredibly frustrating, highly uncomfortable, and emotionally exhausting. He would pitch a huge fit whenever he even got close. 

Finally, I let it go. I stopped nursing. And, for a variety of reasons, I stopped pumping. Last week, I pumped for the last time. Today, I packed up all the parts and put the whole big, messy milk processing plant up on a high shelf. Sam is so much happier and more carefree. He doesn't get stressed out at mealtimes anymore. He is at rest with me instead of at odds. I feel like a human being (much more often, anyway). I'm regaining a sense of normalcy. For us, this was the right decision.

We are still glad we had the lip and tongue ties taken care of. We've seen Sam's bottle-feeding time improve, since he can actually get a good grip on the bottle, and he can now raise his tongue above his lower gum, which he couldn't do before. It will probably make speech easier for him later on. And the lip tie is a genetic issue that my mom and I both had to have surgery for as teenagers, so he won't have to worry about that. 

So, what have I learned from this whole mess? Here are just two excerpts from my long list:

First, sometimes it takes more than perseverance and good technique to make nursing work. Lip and tongue ties (among other physical challenges) are very real but subtle issues that can make or break breastfeeding, or at least make it much harder than it should be. However, most doctors and lactation consultants don't look for or aren't trained to find them (maybe because the medical community hasn't caught up with the breastfeeding boom). In Sam's case, the ties were just two of many factors that kept him from nursing, but I think he would've had a fighting chance if they had been corrected earlier. Not all lactation consultants are created equal, and next time, I'll start with a good one.

Second, my ability to provide milk for Sam is not a measure of my adequacy as a mother. Formula is not actually the devil's drink. It's not spectacular, and, good grief, it is expensive, but it will be okay. It's allowed my preemie to continue to thrive despite many odds. And I will never again judge that mom next to me who is struggling to mix formula while wrangling the little person in her arms.

Oh, and that scarlet "F" on my forehead? It's starting to wear off. :)

--elise

Baby Brains

"Newborn babies...are very intent human beings struggling against very difficult circumstances to overcome blindness, deafness, and immobility. They are deadly serious and they should be. It is not easy or safe to be a newborn baby." -Glenn Doman

Sam is snuggly, cute, tiny, and strong, but he is also INTENT. When he is awake, he is trying hard to see and hear and roll over and poop and hold up his head and be fed at the right times. He is extremely serious about all these things...so much so that it cracks us up sometimes. It's gotta be hard to be a baby. We joke that Sam rolls over every morning, opens his eyes halfway, and says to himself, "GAH. I'm still a baby! Dangit."

Sometimes, this is how Sam feels about being a baby. (Usually, though, he's much more chill than this.) 

Below: Sam, being all chill with Uncle Eliot.

Babies learn by experience. The more they are shown, the more they can see. The more they are talked to, the more they can hear and understand. The more opportunities they have to move, the more they can move. 

Most babies get the hang of things naturally, just by being alive in the world. They learn to see light and dark right away, and every time the lights in the room go on and off, or the sun sets or rises, their little light reflexes get stimulated. Pretty soon, their pupils learn to adjust instantly to the change. Then, they can move on to the next step: seeing outlines. They work on that for a while. Then they can start to make out details. Later, they develop depth perception. And so on. It's a progression that happens by opportunity, as their brains grow with use. Same with walking, hearing, talking, communicating, and growing up in general. 

Before I go off and get all impersonal and geeky...the point is, what if I can provide extra opportunities for Sam to work on these things? Find out what he's working on and help him? Help him grow his brain by creating an environment in which he can use it more? Get into his world a little and help him to understand ours? 

I'm not a kid or baby expert. (Heck, I was the one on the delivery table telling the nurse, "You're going to have to tell me what to do, because I don't have a clue how to have a baby. I didn't make it past the first week of my childbirth class!") But I am reaaallly interested in baby development and learning, partly because my parents raised my brother and me on a fascinating program in which they intentionally worked with us to develop the skills that I'm talking about. We're not geniuses and we didn't go to Harvard or anything, but I think that our parents' work helped to cultivate in us a genuine curiosity in the world and a knowledge that learning meant something more than just pure "school."

But, school is helpful too, so when I was pregnant, I went to school in Philly for an intense week to study how early brain development works and how we can get in on that action with our babies. 

So I've been trying out some things on Sam, who is currently three months old. I'm planning to share them in subsequent blog posts.

First, though, a few qualifiers: 

1) I am not trying to create a superbaby Mozart who will write symphonies when he's two, go to Yale when he's twelve, and make his millions by sixteen. I just want him to love to learn, and learn easily. I want to cultivate curiosity in his life. And I want to be purposeful in helping his brain to grow...just as I am about helping his body to grow by feeding him (although if you hear him yell when he's hungry, you might think I starve the poor thing. I don't. Apparently it's a preemie thing to be immensely greedy about food.) 

2) Just because I am trying out certain ideas with our kid doesn't mean that if you're doing things differently with yours, I'm judging you by writing this. I just want to share a little bit of my life with you! I also want a platform to talk about our progress, what's working, and what's not. Also, I think that a lot of people (Jordan's parents, for instance) intuit these ideas and stimulate their babies' brains in similar ways without using specific techniques or activities from a child development textbook.

3) I take Sam very seriously. I have great respect for him as a human being made in the image of God and as a person with way more capacity for learning than I have now (baby brains grow FAST, dude). However, he is still a silly little squirt that we quite enjoy laughing at and blowing raspberries on, and part of me wants him to stay a squishy baby forever!

"Mommy. Stop with the sap and just GIVE ME ALL THE MILKS."

4) My baby didn't start out ahead of the game (if anything, he is considered six weeks behind for a newborn). My point is that I don't think my baby is smarter than anyone else's. I believe that babies in general are naturally born to be brilliant, curious learners; we don't enter a lottery and cross our fingers that we get an alert, interested kid. They're born with the spark already there, but the first one to three years is really important in keeping the spark alive. The question is, how? That's part of what I want to tackle on this blog. 

5) I'm not stressing myself or my family out over this stuff. If the activities aren't fun and happy and lighthearted...forget it. And it's okay if we have days where we sit on the couch and watch movies all day and I'm lucky if I shower and don't starve. But the things we've been doing ARE fun and easy, and I think Sam is a happier and healthier baby for it, and I have something to think about beyond just surviving until 5 pm when Jordan gets home and I have the option to make my escape to Target. Which is vital to my sanity, too.

Next up: Our visual program. *Rubs hands together.* Anyone still with me? 

The quote above and a lot of these ideas are from a book called "How Smart Is Your Baby?" Silly title, good book. You can get it on Amazon if you're interested. 

Daddy

I'm so grateful for the bond that these two share. When Sam was born, he was whisked away from us immediately, and Jordan was able to visit him in his incubator before I was. It's strange to say, but I'm immensely thankful that Jordan could be the first one at his side. I am pretty certain that it bonded them together in a particular way. And I could watch them hang out all day. 

The first Father's Day entailed naps and watching Netflix with Sam snoozing on Jordan's chest. No hullabaloo here, just a handmade card and a tiny gift wrapped in an old blueprint. And Sam, sawing logs there with us on the couch, while House made his rude and brilliant diagnosis from the TV screen. Yep, we're officially behind the times.

Photo by Eliot Scarpetti; edits by me

Sam's "Into the Wild" Nursery

When I was pregnant with Sam, I thought a TON about the possibilities for his room. I finally landed on the idea of an adventure-themed nursery with a modern flair and black and white accents. My goals were to design 1) a space that Sam would be able to see and enjoy from the time he was born, working off of the idea that babies can really only see strong contrast when they're tiny, and 2) a bright, grown-up space that I wouldn't mind hanging out in every day for the next year. My first step was to deal with our horribly cluttered junk room (I didn't even take a picture, it was so embarrassing) by selling stuff on Craigslist. Once I had tackled that gruesome project, I had a totally fresh canvas to start with. I'm very excited to finally share the finished product, which I worked on in fits and starts during naps after Sam came home. I had been so proud of being on track with my nine-month project timeline, so I definitely had some moments in my hospital bed in Florida, in labor six weeks early, thinking, "BUT THE ROOM ISN'T DONE!!" In the end, though, I fully enjoyed being able to put the finishing touches on Sam's room with him there, adorably snoozing in the crib, and me NOT being third-trimester-preggers.

We swapped out a ceiling fan for the white Ikea pendant and added a ceiling medallion from Home Depot to customize it a bit. The deer skull painting is from World Market. It's an unusual choice for a nursery, but I love the bold contrast in it and that it reminds me of Georgia O'Keefe's paintings, which I loved looking at as a kid. The Babyletto Hudson crib (my dream crib) was a top-secret team surprise from our moms after Sam was born, the clock and side table are from Target, and the "Venture Out" canvas print and pillow are from Urban Outfitters. 

My big splurge was the Graham glider from West Elm (okay, hugest splurge ever); my Craigslist selling binge helped to fund it, and then it went on sale on one of the Atlanta ice days and I risked my life to go pick it up (don't worry, it was actually just that purely rainy day when everyone freaked out for no reason). It's the most comfortable thing I've ever sat in, and I intend to keep it forever. I love that it would look good in any room of my house. The charcoal velvet curtains are from World Market, the lamp was thrifted, and the silver side table is a West Elm look-alike that I found in the scratch and dent section of TJ Maxx for a song (like, to the tune of twenty bucks). The ottoman was a $5 thrift find that I covered with an Ikea faux sheepskin. 

I've never attempted a gallery wall before, and I hated every minute of making it. I tried all the Pinterest tricks, and even though I traced it all out on kraft paper on the floor, I still rearranged it (and added and subtracted pieces) a hundred times and probably half destroyed the wall. But I'm FINALLY happy with it, and Sam loves it! He'll fixate on it while I'm changing him or holding him nearby. I'm especially happy with the two little round geometric doodads, which are just small embroidery hoops covered in felt, with tiny felt triangles stuck on to them. The dresser is from Ikea and the metal cart (our diaper station) is from World Market. The stereo is a must; we always have Spotify playlists going...everything from U2 to Mozart to Mark O'Connor. The zebra head was one of my first purchases; it was on clearance at Home Goods, probably because it was u-g-l-y, and I re-painted it.

I made the mountain pillow during Sam's second week home during an extra-long nap when I desperately needed to zone out and tackle a creative project. The monogrammed stuffed critter and the "Sam I am" burp cloth were handmade gifts from friends. 

The closet curtain is actually an Anthropologie duvet cover that I found years ago; it was on the sale rack, mis-priced for $14.99. I folded the top over to adjust the length and clipped it to the curtain rings. The animal hooks and "S" are also from Anthro, and Sam's great-grandmother painted the fun animal paintings on the door. Yes, those are miniscule John Deere boots on the shelf. 

I created a little grab-and-go "mom station" near the door for my favorite baby wrap and diaper bag. A girl's gotta do something to counteract the lumberjack vibes happening in this house! I'm outnumbered.

When Sam came home from the hospital, healthy and happy, after 20 days in the NICU, I hung up the "Venture Out" print and then laughed out loud. I never thought that our first adventure with our baby would be an emergency out-of-town birth, or that his first flight would be on a medical jet...but those are the gritty, real-life adventures, and they count just as much as visiting national parks, discovering our city, and exploring museums. Although I have high hopes that we have many of those sorts of adventures ahead, too.  :) 

So why am I here, anyway?

I've never thought of myself as a blogger. The word "blogger" conjures visions of two types of people in my mind: the geeky dude in a dimly lit basement, hunched over a laptop, typing out conspiracy theories and contradicting the mainstream media; and the hip twenty-something sporting oversized tortoiseshell glasses and an adorable tattoo and posting a plethora of outfit photos and cocktail recipes. (I realize that's terribly unfair.) Don't get me wrong...I am a sucker for a good conspiracy theory and cute outfits, and I'd call up Warby Parker in a heartbeat if I ever had a less-than-normal eye exam. And I may or may not have a secret Pinterest board of tattoos. However, whenever the subject of blogging has come up in conversation, I've gone on about how I'm way too scattered to be one of those "bloggers," how I don't enjoy taking pictures enough to be a legit blogger, and how about I'd rather be doing stuff than blogging about doing stuff. 

However.

I am planning to start blogging regularly. Here's why:

1) I want to document our adventures. And, boy, is this a year for adventures. (I've also started to enjoy taking pictures. :))

2) I want to post cute pictures of my adorable baby. I'm sorry, but it's true. I especially want our scattered family and friends to be able to keep up with us outside of Facebook. 

3) I've been doing some fun stuff, and sometimes it might be worth sharing. If I can share something creative I'm working on, and it gives someone else the spark to try something out of the ordinary, then I think that's worth the investment of time it takes to post it.

4) This is where is gets kinda weird. Bear with me here. I've embarked on a mission to help Sam grow his brain. For the last year, I have been geeking out over early brain development and how baby brains work, and the potential in the ideas I've been studying is very, very exciting. The basic idea behind it all is that the brain grows by use, and the younger you are, the faster it grows...and that there are tangible things you can do to help the little brains out in the process. So. I want to try some things out and then blog about our adventures and progress in areas like crawling, visual development, and listening. You might totally disagree with everything I'm saying, or conclude that I'm out of my mind, and that's okay! But I really want to say it anyway, in hopes that it will spark good conversation and maybe be helpful to someone somewhere. And I think it will challenge me to articulate what I'm doing and why. For those reasons, I am creating a tag on this blog called Baby Brain. 

Here's what I am NOT planning to do:

1) Be tied down to one theme or agenda. If I want to post a cocktail recipe one day and a conspiracy theory the next [month] and a discourse on the vestibular system the next...well, I will. Feel free to skip the posts that make your eyes glaze over, and just look at the cute pictures of Sam. :)

2) Post incessantly. 

3) Post selfies. Well...maybe one or two. 

Cool? Cool.