Family Photos

As promised, here are some more photos from our trip to San Antonio:

Surgery

On Wednesday Roan had surgery to remove a dermoid cyst above his right eye (you can see it clearly in this photo). Dermoid cysts are made up of hair, nail and teeth cells, and sometimes pockets of blood, fat, bone, and cartilage. All this stuff was on it's way to wherever it was supposed to go, and just got stuck by Ro's right eye instead, probably when he was in utero. We could have left it alone, but it was getting bigger, and the danger is that it will rupture, spreading these cells all over his face. Then he'd have to be on antibiotics for the rest of his life, to suppress infection, and to suppress the teeth, nails, and hair trying to grow on his forehead, cheeks, chin, etc. So yeah, we opted for the surgery.

Since he went under general anaesthesia, Roan couldn't eat for four hours before surgery. Only one parent could accompany him into the O.R., and we decided it would be Jay. They gave him this astronaut suit to put on, complete with shoe covers and shower cap, and I couldn't help but notice that of the half dozen other couples in the waiting room, he was the only dad going in. Was I really the only mom who didn't want to watch? When we took Ro down to the O.R., the nurses seemed surprised that Jay was wearing the astronaut suit instead of me - they started to tell me I couldn't go any further, but instead grabbed an extra suit for me. This made me feel even worse: like I was the only mom in the history of the hospital not to accompany her child into surgery. I'm glad I went, because the surgeon ended up being 45 minutes late, and it took a lot of effort to keep Roan from realizing how hungry he was. We passed the time by admiring the other Robot in the room - a 1.6 million dollar robot used for urinary procedures.

It was awful watching Roan go under. They put a mask over his mouth and nose, and he fought and fought and little by little the fight just died out in him, and the light went out of his eyes. I couldn't help it - I really wanted him to win this fight. I had a brief daydream where he knocked the mask out of the nurse's grip, rolled over into my arms, and we burst through the doors and escaped into the sun. Then I had another daydream where the nurse said, "I'm sorry, but your son is just too strong for anaesthesia. You can go home now." In reality, I gave him a kiss goodbye and started crying.

An hour and a half later they wheeled him into recovery, and I've never been so happy to see my baby crying inconsolably. He was so upset and confused that despite his hunger it took him three tries to latch on and start sucking. They monitored him for half an hour, then sent us home.

Here he is on Day 1:

Day 2:

What a shiner. The swelling should continue for one more day, and then we should start to see improvement. He's already scratched off his bandages, as if to emphasize the point that he is not a baby you'd want to meet in a dark alley. More recovery photos to come...

Goodnight Moon

Mirror, Mirror

Thanks to Anna for taking this adorable photo with her Blackberry!

Mother's Little Helper

1. Cheese
2. Butter
3. Ice Cream
4. Margaritas
5. Chocolate
6. Chocolate Eclairs
7. Tuna
8. Lasagna
9. Yogurt
10. Frozen Yogurt
11. Nachos
12. The Reason You Order The Salad (for the cheese)
13. Pizza

14. Mac n' Cheese
15. Corn Bread
16. Muffins That You Want To Eat
17. Chocolate Chip Cookies
18. Nutella

19. Edamame
20. Risotto

A sampling of things I can not partake of while breastfeeding my milk and soy intolerant son.

Even so, something is still bothering him, so we went back to the pediatric G.I.  

G.I. - "Do you eat any unusual foods in high volume?"

Me - "Um, no, nothing unusual, but I eat a lot of burritos.  And rice and beans.  I eat rice and beans all the time.  That's my favorite food."  

Subtext: if you tell me to stop eating them, my life will no longer be worth living.

G.I. - "Do you make them yourself?  From scratch?"

What a question.  It's obvious this man is not a working mother.

Me - "No."

G.I. - "Then how do you know there is no dairy in your beans?"

Me - "I eat black beans.  From Chipotle.  They are dairy free.  I've asked."

I've never asked such a stupid question, but I lie to reassure him, because I really don't like where this conversation is headed.

G.I. - "No more Chipotle.  I wouldn't trust them.  Normal people should not eat Chipotle, much less nursing mothers."

I almost burst into tears.  But then Roan actually does burst into tears, so I get a hold of myself, and leave the doctors office with something that looks like dignity.  But I am dying on the inside, oh pediatric G.I.!  

Signs of Intelligence

1. On Monday we got a foot of snow. I decided to walk to the grocery store with Ro in his stroller. I spent the trip there and back cursing in frustration / basking in the imaginary fortune I'd make from the invention of snap-n-go snow tires.

2. On Tuesday Melinda and her 9-month-old daughter Willa stopped by. They live in our building, and I've asked Melinda for advice many times, and sought refuge in her apartment when the apartment directly above us gutted their bathroom, one tile at a time. She said: when a baby puts their foot in their mouth, that's a sign of intelligence. This is exciting news for us, since Roan has been attempting to eat his own feet for days now. Striving for intelligence, clearly.

Roan and Willa: Intelligentsia / Part Time Baby Models 

Swingers

Last weekend we took Roan on his first plane ride to San Antonio, for a Lyons family reunion. He met his cousins Cassie and Julia for the first time, and they hit the swings (Auntie Leesha pushed)...

Then he swung with me:

Other activities included feeding the fish in the coy pond, a sweaty and demoralizing walk in the stroller (demoralizing because my mother-in-law kicked my ass, and Robot didn't even come close to falling asleep), lots of playing on the floor, watching Cassie climb trees, putting his feet in the pool, and his first taste of rice cereal.  More photos to come.

On the plane, Jay and I had our hands full keeping the Robot happy and staving off an over friendly passenger named Gill, who repeatedly offered to take Roan and do some magical baby calming technique that he refused to explain.  Here's a tip Gill: if you want anyone to let you hold their baby, don't make such a state secret out of what you plan to do once you get your hands on the baby, and don't wink so damn much.  Also: it's fairly normal and expected for me to sing to my baby, but it's kind of creepy when you do it from across the aisle.  Astoundingly, Gill was also on the return flight.  That's 8 hours of Gill.  When he saw us the second time he made some stalker joke that was way too close to home to be funny.