Introducing Baby Ford

My cashier at the NEX this morning took one look at my purchases lined up for checkout- newborn diapers, giant super maxi pads, nighttime orajel, and a bottle of wine- and the sleeping baby in the ring sling I was wearing, and said: "man, if I were a bartender I'd buy you a drink!"

Yeah, I've already cracked that bottle of wine, and let there be no question as to whether I'm going to have a second glass.

Getting baby Ford to his doctor's appointment, Finley to daycare, and a beyond-exhausted Seth (who's been pulling all-nighters trying to get his thesis done) out the door this morning was an actual freaking three ring circus. There were tears (by at least three of us), hysterics, mismatched socks, and an unhealthy amount of cursing. I also just steam cleaned my carpet for the third time this week upon being reminded of the cup of coffee I had left upended in the living room after looking at my watch and sprinting for the door with a screeching Ford (the only way I knew for sure I had grabbed him) tucked under my arm.

Two under two is going to be quite an experience...

But first, how we got here. I was a week past my due date, and starting to be kind of over it (although relieved to have made it to the end of ILE!) We were still determined to help Finley get the most out of her last couple days, so we took her bowling and let her eat pizza out of the box.

The doctors were starting to talk induction, though, which I was determined to avoid, and I was going in every other day for fetal monitoring. Finally, Wednesday night, I was pretty sure my water had broken, and I waited for contractions to start. When I was still just mildly uncomfortable by Thursday afternoon, we sent Finley off to the zoo with Mom & Dad (a hormonal mess by then, I cried like a baby and waved in the driveway until their car disappeared from sight), reminded ourselves that Finley was the reason we had decided on kid #2 in the first place, stopped for Nando's on the way (since I knew I wouldn't get to eat for awhile if this was really it), and headed for labor & delivery, hospital bags packed just in case.

It turned out that my water hadn't broken- I had a leak, still only sporadic contractions, and unimpressive dilation- and they almossstttt let us go, until someone decided Ford's fluids were a bit low and brought us admission paperwork. I was still hoping for a quick (and natural) delivery, so we started low dose oxytocin and I spent a couple hours using the ridiculous squat bar and bouncy ball and chewing on my inner lip while I thought mean thoughts about Seth, who had gotten to order dinner and did not have to deal with drug-induced contractions. (Even doubled over in pain, I hate to skip a meal.)

Finally, with Seth still waiting on his reuben, Ford's heartbeat dipped and they cranked up the pitocin. I writhed on the floor, threw up on myself, and demanded an anesthesiologist. Pitocin really is the devil. The epidural went in, although not in time to take full effect, and after another hour or so I was about to recall the poor guy who put it in to tell him he had better get it fixed and fast, when the doctor came in and said "ready to have this baby?" (God, yes.) I can't have pushed for more than ten minutes, with a calm and collected Seth directing things and helping haul him out- and baby Ford was here! (11:13pm, at a whopping 7 lbs., 14 oz. and 20.5" long.) The subsequent hospital stay was uneventful (and Seth brought me veggie burgers and cupcakes), and Finley came to visit and cooperated for this heartwarming photo.

And it's been all mostly smooth sailing since then. There aren't words to express the difference "only" having a 2nd degree tear makes. I am functional! After Finley, I couldn't walk for weeks, cried when I had to go to the bathroom for at least a month, bled profusely, sat exclusively on ice packs, and was too miserable to drive or sleep or enjoy much of anything or really even leave the house. The day I came home from the hospital this time, I cleaned my kitchen, put away laundry, and napped in the hammock with Ford. Life is unbelievably good.

Of course, two other things contribute heavily to my current state of maternity leave bliss. One, my amazing, high-energy, self-sufficient parents are in town (Mom not sounding too disappointed about the Arkansas reprieve), which means that my incredible guilt at being unavailable to the very-demanding Finley has been replaced by her elation at regular trips to the zoo and birdwatching and her very own fan club. They've been unobtrusive enough for me to forget I'm rocking the new-baby gut and indifference to shirtwearing, done our yardwork and laundry, facilitated Seth's eleventh-hour pre-graduation paper-and-presentation push, whisked Finley off, and left dinner in the oven more often than not.

And two, Ford is an absurdly easy baby. Again- I had no idea. Finley hated sleep, hated baby toys, hated to be put down, hated to be picked up, despised her car seat, and only napped while I was actively moving with her. I walked 4am laps around our cul-de-sac like it was my job, wincing in pain the whole way. She never did become good at nursing after arriving with a busted lip, which meant I was consumed by pumping around the clock to make sure I had enough milk for her (to drink out of bottles, which had to be washed when she did sleep.) When she acquiesced to nursing, she cluster fed for 5-7 hours a night for a period of over a month. I felt like a hostage. She had a "baby witching hour" that sometimes lasted all night and prompted my parents- who adored her even then- to refer to her as "the devil child." She was not an easy baby.

Ford, on the other hand, likes to lounge, loves to eat, and almost never fusses. He's a champion snuggler who's already getting his days and nights sorted out, doesn't mind his car seat, and lets me ignore him completely when Finley wants to chase birds in the yard. He does cluster feed, but I swear to God even seems apologetic about that.

This all sounds like I don't like Finley very much, or didn't early on anyway. To the contrary- my handful baby turned into the best, most fun toddler on the planet, and my hands-down favorite person. I love her to the point that I was 99% certain I couldn't possibly love baby #2 as much.

I think Seth was worried about the same thing, and he still calls Finley his "#1 draft pick." But we have determined that baby Ford is really playing his cards right. Apparently sensing that he couldn't possibly compete with Miss Personality, he's decided to kill 'em with chill, and is his own interesting, charming little person. Who really does sleep like this.

At any rate, I have a draft thesis to edit, a delivery person at the door (we have been overwhelmed, again, with the love and generosity of friends and family), and Ford's healthy appetite has materialized for the second time this hour. We have our hands full for sure, but are counting our blessings and looking forward to Grandma Jayne's visit this weekend!

A couple photos of the week. We're trying to beat the "2nd kid photo curse" and take some of baby Ford. I love this one, because I took the same one of Seth & Finley in the early days with her. And this one is just as priceless.

As for Finley, she's surviving the transition as well as can be expected. This weekend we had (topless, natch) cupcakes for breakfast, courtesy of Aunts Michelle and Nicole

and M&D put her to work in the yard.

I also finally got around to pumping this morning when Ford skipped a feeding (may as well start stockpiling!) and I was worried about how she'd take it, but she cheerfully helped me inspect the parts.

Here goes nothin'! Wish us luck.