In the course of six days, Faith has "enjoyed" a high school football game and a minor league baseball game (only the best for my little girl). If you haven't heard me say this yet, you haven't been within 100 yards of me: I'm lucky to have a great little girl. I've always considered myself to be lucky for a multitude of reasons; but the fact that I can impose my love of sporting events (no matter the level) onto my unsuspecting nine-week-old child, without even a complaint, is completely gratifying.
How good is Faith you ask? Well, she knew when to cry/fuss during the TJ v. AL game. She cried when they scored, and was pretty content and happy when we scored. We left at halftime (for those of you not around here, TJ lost by a lot). During the I-Cubs game, she was very content except for when the O-Royals decided to score (I-Cubs won).
Faith even got to see her dad right after he acted like a 10-year-old girl at a Jonas Brothers concert (I know the name because I'm a 9th grade teacher). No, the Disney concocted boy band wasn't at the game. But my all-time baseball idol (the now Manager of the I-Cubs) was signing autographs before the ballgame. I got there early in hopes of snagging an autograph. When I was in line, the first 40 minutes went slow, and I thought all hope was lost. Then Ryne Sandberg came out and started signing. When I finally made it to him, I was shaking. For what felt like a solid ten minutes, I managed to muck up what I was saying three times, hold the jersey sideways (to which he said, "unless you want a crooked autograph, I'd move that"), and drop my gold marker/pen onto his pants and onto the field dirt. At that point (again, picture tween at a Miley Cyrus concert minus the sobbing) I said, "Don't worry about the pen, I'm good." God, I'm a dork. He grabbed the pen and said something along the lines of "Enjoy the game," and I went to my seat.
I showed my daughter my new treasures and she seemed none-the-wiser. I was even able to not have her pee or poop on it before we got home (I was actually more worried about that than me spilling my burger or beer on it). Father of the Year right here.
Anyway, the point of the post is that I'm gradually introducing my daughter to my fan-dom of all that is sport. Maybe someday, she'll read this and realize that yes, in fact, her dad was a dork way before she was able to recognize it. And to shove that nail just a little more in, here is a quick (:30) video of Faith rocking out.
Faithy had her two month checkup on Friday. In summary, she is doing great! She is smiling, cooing, holding up her heavy little noggin, tracking moving objects/crazy parents with her eyeballs and sleeping from about 10 ish to about 5 ish.
One happy baby!
As for the height and weight department, we have a very tall baby. Say what? My 5'11 (on a good day) husband and my 5 foot 3.5 inch (yes, gotta list that half inch) self have a 22.5 inch long babes. She is "a peanut" according to Dr. Loucks, weighing in at just 9 pounds 2 ounces, but is thriving in her development nonetheless. Her head size ranges in exactly the 50 percentile. If ever there was a time to be average, the size of one's head is it :)
And now for the not-so-fun part - shots. She received about 5 different vaccines in the form of two different needle sticks and one liquid dropper.
The plate of doom
Now everyone I talked to said it would be harder on me than her. To be honest, I thought that was crap since she would be the one enduring the pain. That was before they stuck her. Once the nurse pulled the needle out of her chubby lil thigh, she did one of those wait-for-it-wait-for-it-wait-for-it wails that reached a volume we had never heard before. Rob pointed out to me that it was a good thing we'd never heard her scream like that. My eyes were too busy welling with tears to care.
Ouch, Mommy!
The reason it's so difficult for mommies? It's hard to watch your child be in that much pain. Something I didn't get until I experienced it firsthand. On a positive note, both Faith's and my eyes were dry by the time we left the doctor's office, though she was sporting a "what the hell just happened?" look on her face. We survived. Barely.
But she did get a rockstar band-aid out of the deal...too bad that won't work til she's at least two.
Sadly, I've found myself a little bummed that she hasn't gained as much weight as I hoped. She eats well (5 ounces a feeding) isn't fussy and sleeps well, so I suppose it's just the way she is and I just need to accept it. I think that will be a very important lesson for me to learn as a mom, to just let her be her and not worry about how she compares to other babies her age. That said, I'm really proud of her for how far she's come in just two short months and want her to know how much her mommy and daddy love her. All 9 pounds 2 ounces :)
Many of you have asked what Howie thinks of Faith.
It's hard to sum it up in one sentence so I thought I'd let the pictures do the talkin'...
He loves sniffing her and licking her little fingers and toes! Faith's defense is to play dead.
Howie is pretty sure the boppy was purchased for his use only.
He can often be found napping in it, looking quite adorable!
"Where's Howie?" we often find ourselves saying, only to run upstairs and discover him chewing on one of Faith's socks. Other times he does it right in front of us like he's invisible or something.
H dizzle pups (one of my many nicknames for our dog) loves Tummy Time.
He's gets his and his sister's toys confused on a regular basis. It doesn't help when grandma comes over and starts playing fetch with Faith's toys. I guess she'll be stealing his toys in no time so it evens out.
Howie is also famous for walking off with Faith's pacy (yes, with the nipple in his mouth). Since we're usually chasing after him to reclaim it, we never think to snap a picture even though it's one of the cutest things ever, so here's a posed shot. This is Howie's "am I in trouble?" look.
Overall, Howie thinks Faith is pretty great. He's excited for his new little BFF to grow so she can play and we are just excited to watch a lifelong friendship begin!
Watch as a desperate mother attempts to get her beautiful daughter to smile. FYI you'll never get these next few minutes of your life back. Don't say I didn't warn you!
Before she was ever conceived, we knew our first daughter's name would be Faith. On the car ride home from my 27th birthday dinner, the subject of baby names came up. I told Rob that I had a name in mind if we had a girl. Instead of just blurting it out, I told him the reasoning behind my choice...
On Aug. 27, 2008, I found out I was pregnant. It was probably the scariest thing that has ever happened to me. It was not a planned pregnancy. I had just been accepted to grad school and Rob was still taking classes to become a teacher. In short, the timing wasn't right. I remember crying a lot because we weren't ready for a baby, but in the minutes after I told Rob the news, I slowly began to change my mind. Here is an excerpt from a story I wrote about the experience...
"He sat down on the floor in his button down shirt and tie. I patted the couch and told him to come sit by me, but he shook his head. He was comfortable right where he was, tearing up because he was going to become a daddy. I cried and cried some more about not being ready and that this wasn’t the right time and Rob stayed a rock. He held me and said that this was a good thing, something to be happy about and that no one had died, except that plant, he added laughing and pointed at something I hadn’t watered in days that once resembled a flower. I smiled, thinking what the perfect thing to say that was. He followed it up by adding that though this wasn’t exactly our timeline, it was something that we planned to do, it was just sooner than we thought. He then told me that I was going to be a good mom, just like my mom, and that had to be my favorite thing he has ever said to me."
We quickly got used to the idea of being a mom and a dad, reading our baby books together on the couch one Friday night. But it wasn't long before our world-to-be came crashing down. I started spotting on a Wednesday and by that Friday I had a miscarriage. It was an awful, sad experience I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy and I don't care to go into details here and now.
While the miscarriage was hell, the hardest thing about it is the next time you get pregnant. The possibility that something could go wrong consumes you. The worst part -- there's nothing you can do, except let time pass. And pray. And that's where my reasoning for the name Faith comes in. I knew it would take complete faith in God, myself and all things holy for me to be able to get through a pregnancy after such a heartwrenching experience. I knew that while I could eat everything nutritious and abide by the pregnancy books, that most of it would be out of my hands. Essentially, I knew I would need an immense amount of courage and strength, but mostly just faith to get through it without living each day in fear that I would miscarry again.
Back to the car on the night of my birthday. I had just basically recited what you read in the above paragraph to my husband before I revealed that the name I was thinking of naming our baby girl was, indeed, Faith. I thought I'd have to fight him on it since we disagreed about pretty much every other name we'd ever talked about, but I didn't. When I said the word Faith, tears welled in his eyes and he simply nodded. I was overcome with emotion. And that's how we decided what our baby girl's name should be...
To close up, Faith was baptized this past Sunday, and fittingly, the homily was all about faith. Father Dave made the point that the opposite of faith is not doubt, but fear, and I couldn't agree more. Too often, we are afraid of what might be or not be and it paralyzes us from moving forward. But if we have faith... in God, in ourselves and one another, we are able to accomplish amazing things. But it's not easy. In fact, it's quite difficult at times, especially when history and the past are not on our side. However, when we believe, when we let go of things we cannot control and most importantly, when we have faith, it leads to freedom.
So what's in a name you ask...everything.And a lot of Faith.
Here are a few more pics of the baptism...to see more, check out the album on Facebook.
As the song title suggests, some changes are coming in the life of a Lindquist (actually, all three). First and foremost, I start school this week. This obviously means I won't be home as much. I am extremely lucky to have been around during the summer while the bump formerly known as Baby L (also see: Lucy, Lady Gaga, Lilly, Wilma, and Robette) transforms our lives. *Beware: the following is a series of series that might make you wish my comma key broke.* I've been privy to exploding diapers, monster burps/farts (mostly Faith's), wake-up calls, multiple clothes changes, baths, walks, and naps. But even more importantly, I've seen the little baby grow from "thebaby" to Faith with smiles, winks, screaming fits mixed with giggles, coos, and belly time on my chest. It blows my mind that almost seven weeks ago she was still a blip on the radar. And now, I won't be around for every minute. This week Nicole takes over full time, with help only coming between the hours of 3ish p.m. to 6ish a.m.
I have it easy. I'm expected to change diapers and clean messes. I don't do nearly as much as Nicole - but I try to make it easier on her when I can. And now that's going to lessen. Even with the changes, I know I'll be able to come home to a wonderful family that expects me to be me. Howie knows I'll let him out and feed him. Nicole knows I'll help her and be the best husband/father I can. And eventually, Faith will know I will be there whenever she calls, for whatever reason, no matter what. This is winning the lottery.
So, to commemorate this upcoming change (not really, but it's a transition for the English teacher) I have decided to update the blog. We (Nicole and I) have been blogging primarily about Faith, so I found a more "baby friendly" theme. There are also a few tweaks here and there, but for the most part it's the same. I'm guessing most readers aren't looking at the exhaustive details anyway because of the in-depth writing. *insert cheesy-winky-smiley thing here*
Finally, this is my favorite picture of Faith so far. I'm sure that fact will change often; with the times (wow, that was corny).
In hindsight, I should have gone grocery shopping. I had the option between that and giving Faith a bath. She loves the water, especially having her hair washed, so I chose the latter and off to Hy-Vee went Rob.
Faith's bath started off as most baths do, getting the baby naked. As I was preparing to place her in her bath chair, she peed...all over her fully clothed mother. Better than peeing in the tub I guess. Not wanting to prolong things, I decided to strip off the bottom half of my clothes and hop in there with her. I wiped her face with a washcloth, got her 8.5 pound body wet and began soaking her hair.
Right in the middle of what can only be described as a glorious rendition of "Rubber Ducky," an explosion of immense proportions occurred. That's right, my cute lil, innocent-eyed daughter pooped. With me in the tub no less! While she was unfazed, I was traumatized. For anyone who has ever seen a breastmilk fed baby's diapers, you can empathize with me here. Ewwww.
After lots of omygods and babycakeshowcouldyous, I got the situation handled, and gave her bath number 2. The kicker: as I was putting on a fresh clean diaper, she peed on her changing pad...girl is hydrated!
Anyway, I thought I'd better note this milestone of sorts on the blog so I can remind her of it when she's in her teen years. And for anyone that's never thanked their mother for all the shit (pun intended) they put up with, please do so now. Cheerio!
