There is no easy answer

I find myself struggling to answer the normal questions when out and about. We've been cooped up most of the winter but those few times that I get out to run a few errands with the girls, I inevitably get those "new baby" questions. I remember when Sophia was a little baby and how eager I was to talk about her age, her disposition, etc. to any curious stranger. With Ava, I just don't have a canned response figured out yet. "How old is your baby?" turns into this whole mental deliberation before I respond. I'll say she's 5 months but then I'll say she was born 3 months early so she should really be 2 months. I usually get a blank stare and then an "oh" but sometimes I get people that know someone that had a preemie or had a preemie and they understand why I answered the way I did. I just don't know why I can't say, "she's 5 months" and then if they decide to comment how small she is (I don't know, is she small for 5 months?) or how underdeveloped she seems then maybe I can elaborate? I find it's mostly a defense thing for me. As much as it shouldn't bother me what strangers think, it really does bother me. And honestly, unless you have a 5 month old baby or grandchild or you are a pediatrician or you are just really knowledgeable about baby stages, would you really stop and look at a baby and question the answer? I mean, aren't they just making small talk anyway? But maybe that one stranger does fit into the knowledgeable category and walks away thinking there's something wrong with Ava. It's almost like I'm doing a disservice to Ava by not giving the longer answer. I know, I should get over it. A woman at the park told me her friend had a 28 week preemie and that now 2 years of age, the kid seems caught up and you can't tell the difference. 1.5 years seems a long way to go for me to be puzzling about what should be an easy answer. I'm also at a loss when talking about Ava's delivery. Because as we all know, it wasn't just Ava that was born that day. But it's all so very uncomfortable to go there even with my family or best friends. So I again feel like I'm doing a disservice to Julia by saying, "well when Ava was born..." but to replace that with "well when the girls were born..." is too heavy on my heart and I just feel like it's too much to place on anyone I'm having that conversation with. The real problem here is that I'm battling with my personality. I'm an open book. I usually give way too much information. But in this case, any kind of answer other than an expected one opens the door to more conversation or maybe suggests that I need to talk about it. And I'm not looking to start a conversation about it really, I'm just trying to be fair to my girls and to myself when I answer a direct question. It all kind of seems silly now that I'm writing out my thoughts. But I feel they are valid thoughts, and I can't imagine I'm alone in thinking them.

Ava is 5 months today

Ava was weighed at the pediatricians and is now 14 pounds and 1 ounce. She's slowed down a little in her weight gain, which I think is a good thing because compared to (oh boy and here we go comparing her to her older sister) Sophia, she is a good 2 pounds more than Sophia was at 2 months old. Which is really how old Ava should be, 2 months. Yes, confusing still.

Ava is mostly calm and focused, unless of course she's hungry, tired or has a dirty diaper. But when her basic needs are met, she will just stare at you and it looks like she's really taking everything in. She loves to play, absolutely adores her big sister, and is still sleeps most contently when she's sleeping with me. It's going to be a really bad habit to break, this co-sleeping thing. She's practicing her cooing. It's fun to watch her try to make a sound. Sometimes she gets really frustrated while trying to move her tongue and lips, she'll just squawk to get something out. She says, "ah goo" and "boo" mostly. And this girl just smiles at everything. She's so strong, too! She loves to stand up and bounce her little legs, she has the strongest grip and can pull herself up with her hands. She holds herself up so well, I barely have to support her head when I hold her now. Speaking of her head, she's growing back the hair she lost a few weeks ago. The old man hair band is evening out and the new growth is coming in quite thick. Her eyes are still a deep blue but I think they are starting to lighten up a bit and becoming more gray-blue.

We see the home nurse next week to find out how Ava is doing developmentally, but I'm not so worried these days. I feel like she's developing right on target, if not even ahead for what her adjusted age is.

It's starting

I've swallowed down the tears for five months now. Things are starting to unravel. I should welcome this part of the process, but I continue to try to push it into the back of my mind. Unfortunately, my mind is fighting back now and it's decided to take sides with my heart.

I should explain my delayed grief a little. I realize that I was masking it. At first I told myself I could start to grieve once Ava got to a place where I could let down that wall. Well, she's clearly making up for her situation in leaps and bounds. In addition to Ava's health, I've been in a five month struggle to get the pictures from the photographer taken on the day Ava and Julia were born. I could go into the long drawn out process, but at the end of the day I just need to let it go. And I finally received the pictures the other day. Then like a very tightly wound rope, I just snapped. I don't have a cause to fight for or to be strong for anymore. I have a healthy and mentally thriving Ava and I have the pictures in my possession. I haven't snapped into a depression or any kind of behavior that should be alarming. I'm aware of my responsibilities and how my actions may affect Sophia. But in the middle of the night or the rare occasion that I am able to shower for more than 5 minutes, when it's just me and my thoughts, I am raw and I can't stop reliving everything. So tomorrow I will celebrate five months of Ava, but tonight I will mourn the loss of Julia and I will mourn Ava's struggles as she was forced into this world.

Ava, the first hours of life

Julia's perfect foot

It was a looooong winter

Tomorrow marks the first day of Spring. So long, Winter. We were cooped up most of the time, due to the wet and cold weather and trying to avoid any germs for Ava. I now fully understand why there are so many holidays during the winter months. I imagine these holidays were created by women with small children. In addition to making the most of each holiday, Sophia made use of her time inside:

Painting and other art projects

Cozying up under just-from-the-dryer laundry piles

Taking long baths in the middle of the day

Reading to herself

Decorating random empty cardboard rolls and boxes

Baking

And on that rare day, when sunshine peeked through she got all bundled up and ran her sillies out

Happy St.Patrick's Day

Updated to include dinner. Notice anything missing from the dinner? I forgot to add the potatoes to the pot! What kind of Irish forgets the potatoes?? Duh. I decied to try to bake Irish Soda Bread. Not sure what it is supposed to taste like, but mine actually turned out pretty good. Maybe practice is helping my baking. We also made shamrock cookies. Sophia probably ate more frosting in the process of decorating than actually ended up on the cookies.

Father Daughter Dinner Dance II

Just got a phone call from the dinner dance and Sophia is again the center of attention on the dance floor, so I've been told. Can't wait to see the action shots. But until then, here's the send off.

Santa's in town

Sophia went with her Daddy to pick up his shirt from the dry cleaners. While in there, they saw Santa's suit coming out of the washer. One can only assume Santa decided to take a vacation here. We discussed other options, but decided this is the only plausible reason that Santa's suit was at the cleaners. Rick told Sophia she better be extra nice because Santa surely knows who is naughty or nice if he's in their town. Sophia asked me if we could track Santa on the computer to see where he was exactly (we were following Santa on Christmas Eve through the NORAD website). Thank goodness they aren't tracking where Santa vacations. Just the other day I had told Sophia Santa was in the North Pole overseeing the toy construction. Boy was I wrong.

Fat Tuesday

Sophia is at that fun age where life is really a party, so I decided to put on a Mardi Gras theme dinner. And you know what, I had fun too! We baked a King Cake and cornbread muffins. We decorated the table. I finally found a reason to use the random alligator head that Rick has for whatever reason.

Ava is missing from the photos because we hadn't found her in the cake yet. Just kidding. The cake is flat because I can't bake. I had good intentions, but of course deviated from the recipe and ended up with this. It tasted OK, but we're not really sure what a traditional king cake should taste like, so there you have it. Anyway, the point of it was really to give Sophia a chance to decorate the cake--mission accomplished. I made a shrimp etouffee over rice, and that turned out yummy. And the cornbread muffins were less than stellar, for the same reason as the cake. However, I made cornbread stuffing last night from the leftover muffins and that made up for the bland muffins the night before. Of course I didn't take notes on how I made dinner last night or the night before, so I won't be updating the recipe section.

Ava's milestones

The new formula sure did turn Ava into a new baby. She is way more content when she sleeps now, and she's actually sleeping where she should be--in her bassinet. For the most part. I've gotten used to sleeping with her, so I'm guilty of letting her sleep in our bed after her early morning bottle still.

I've tried to capture her doing some cool stuff. This is harder now, her being the younger sister.

Smiling

Tummy time, holding her upper body and head up, supported by her arms.

Not quite Shirley Temple

Sophia had her first dance class. I signed her up at the studio where I used to dance when I was a little girl. I played up the class for about a week, and she was really excited to go. Until the day of the class. She woke up from her nap in a pretty foul mood. She didn't want to go to dance. She didn't want to get dressed in her new leotard. After a lot of coaxing (and bribes) we got her ready to go.

The first thing I noticed when Sophia started the warm up part of class is that she has her daddy's flexibility. She doesn't bend. While the other little girls were virtually folded in half, Sophia was struggling to touch her knees let alone her toes. The next thing I noticed was that Sophia has her mommy's sense of direction. She will do the opposite leg, arm, or even go counter clockwise of the other girls. However, once the instructor got her all settled, she really has a natural grace and ability to do the dance moves. She learned the tap step, shuffle, right from the start. And it was clear heel/toe/slap. Even with the distractions (from one particular little girl who was intent on pulling Sophia away from everything and causing trouble--who is in one of the pictures but I won't be cruel to actually point her out, but let's just say one of the things is not like the other...eh hum, tambourines or...?), she actually learned some. I really went into the whole thing just hoping she had fun, if nothing else. I do want her to learn a little discipline, too. But I think that will come with time and maturity and certainly not from an introduction class with a bunch of three year olds.