Wednesday, March 28, 2007

The Big Cry

By Savannah

I have been looking forward to today. My good friend and LMT Kristy came over to give me a wonderful in-home massage (as a gift). My neck and low back have been so achy since the two-day labor/birth ordeal and lack of sleep.

Kristy arrived, the boy was well fed and tucked into Papa's arms and we were upstairs to relax....

Until: SCREAM!!!

Liam is howling. Despite the heater, the cd playing, the fact that we are upstairs with the door closed, I can hear him loudly crying. I can also hear Papa Bill walking, shooshing, talking to the boy in his best calming voice. I think, this will work. He will calm down and I will relax.

Kristy is an awesome therapist. She is working deeply on my sore back and I am breathing with her strokes.

But baby is still crying. Not just crying. He is hysterical. And he has never done this before.

There is something so instinctual in the mama desire to fix the crying. I knew that popping a nipple in his mouth would probably do the trick. But, I am relaxing and the boob-less Papa is caring for his son.

Bill is one of the more patient people I know. He is like a rock. I know I can always count on his calm, easy-going ways to mellow even my most fiery mood. I knew he was holding that baby, listening to him cry and trying all his soothing tricks.

And yet, I wanted to jump off the table and fix it myself.

I remembered when Caleb was a baby. He was fussy for the first three or so months and cried a lot if not with me. I called him (for many years actually) my Cling-on.

Now, he is grown. A teenager and no longer my sweet, clingy boy. This reminds me how short these days of baby-land really are. How the long nights, the moments of comfort on the couch, the little snuggled body against me will only last for a blink of the eye.

So we can make it through the crying moments and maybe even relish them a bit if we just remember they will be over soon and take with them all the sweet tenderness of baby Liam.


Tuesday, March 27, 2007

The Wise Old Man

It was another long night Monday night as Mr. Liam again was awake and hungry through most of the wee hours. We are working to turn his sleep schedule. It can't happen soon enough for Savannah and myself.

Kimberly Beppler, a good friend, mother of two small children and professional doula, stopped by and helped out today. She is very knowledgeable about things like proper feeding position, different ways to hold the baby, and how to make humbau, an Asian bun filled with yummy veggies and cheese. I had many while in Japan. She made us over a dozen from scratch. Wow.

While Kimberly helped with laundry and did other things around the place, Savannah was able to get some sleep and I ran a few needed errands. And the humbau are divine. Thanks, Kimberly.

Later in the day, Savannah, Liam and myself drove to Core Source, where Savannah has an office but today had an appointment with Amy, her chiropractor. Having a natural childbirth is akin to being in a car accident for most women, and Savannah was helped greatly by Amy.

Liam also got a check from Amy, who is a state certified pediatric chiropractor. He didn't need anything in the way of adjustments, she just checked his hip motion and such and suggested some gentle movements to keep his development on track.

It was while we were waiting to see Amy that the following photo was taken (I always carry a camera). Babies in general sometimes go into a state called 'quiet alert,' a short span of time where they soak in their surroundings while remaining fairly still. They may do it a few times a day, but only for several minutes each time. It is a neat behavior to observe.

During quiet alert, Liam's eyes open wide (unless he's in bright light), and his hands and feet come to rest. He has strong neck muscles (our pediatrician even commented on it) and likes to look around a lot, especially at lights. If you are seated in front of him, he will stare right at you.

This young, most babies have little control over their facial expressions, and run through them moment to moment. No big smiles yet, those come later. But you still get a sampling.

We've spotted a trend of sorts. My mom, Mary Alice, said he looked "wise" when she first saw him. Since then, several other people have said the same thing. One of our more hippy friends commented that he was an old soul, back for another journey through life. He seems to have a strong sense of calm about him.

Frankly, it kind of freaks me out a bit, they way he looks at me sometimes. Liam does not yet blink much, so those dark blue eyes just kind of bore into you.

I stare right back, but I get the distinct feeling I'm the one being closely watched, not the other way around.


A couple of other photos from today:

Monday, March 26, 2007

The New Reality

Liam is now nearly a week old.

It seems like he was born over a month ago. The hospital visit seems like a distant memory. Sleep deprivation will do that to you.

In just five days, his appearance has changed somewhat, as have his behaviours. He looks around a lot with those dark (kinda evil-looking!!) baby eyes, especially at night, which is when he seems to most enjoy being awake. Count Liam?

Poor Savannah is feeding the guy every 90 minutes or so. She is very short on sleep but continues to do a great job and is very patient. This morning, about 3:30 a.m., he needed another feeding and diaper change, but after that I got up and dropped him into the sling and puttered around the house until 6 a.m. so Savannah could sleep. It seemed to help, and I'll probably repeat as needed.

Lots of people told me "your life is about to totally change" or some version thereof before Liam was born, and I guess I was waiting for some kind of lightning bolt of change to hit me when he arrived, and was kind of disappointed when it didn't. I was a bit scared of it, truthfully, and a bit let down there was no sudden I've-seen-the-face-of-God moment. He was born, and there we was.

I felt guilty that I still had this constant feeling of "this will all be over soon," as if relatives were visiting or something, and Savvy and I would soon be back to movies on a whim, dinners out, free time to play with my big-boy toys and budgets that did not include things like diapers, doctors and $40 cowboy pajamas.

But nearly a week later, I can better see what people meant. We drove Liam to the pediatrician today for a checkup (all is well), and it took nearly 30 minutes to move the boy, Savannah, myself and the needed luggage (diapers, sling, etc) to the car. Holy cow! WIll it be this way each time? New systems will have to be put in place.

With the whirlwind of activity surrounding the home care of a fresh newborn who essentially will die without total support from us, the changes kind of creep up on you. I skip showers. Meals. Bike rides. Dog walks. Editing projects. Motorcycle repairs. Pretty soon, it all seems to stack up. It's all dirty diapers all the time. You just have to manage the time better. And I'm not even working right now.

Soon, I'll be back at work at KATU. I'm extremely lucky in that my shift is great: 5:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. (barring major breaking news). If that holds, I'll be able to pick up Liam after school, go to Little League and so forth while still working full time. And I still go to bed about 9:30, which is pretty normal. I'm very lucky to have a job that has given me time off (three weeks) to support Liam and Savannah, has solid health insurance and is something I love doing, news/tech junkie that I am.

So, slowly, I am beginning to see the future differently. It's not a lightning bolt of change, it's more like a change of seasons. Time management will be paramount. As Liam gets older, gets toilet trained, learns to speak, and goes to school, things will change again and again. We'll adapt as needed, panic is not required.

But for now, it's diapers and breastfeeding pretty much 24/7, with some early, early morning sessions online, checking news web sites, answering emails, and puttering around the house doing chores while Liam dozes in the sling and Savannah gets a much needed block of rest.

It's the new reality.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Happy Birthday, Savannah

Some quick blog notes: If you want to see a photo in a larger size (and they are easier to print), just click on it twice. Also, we have enabled comments. Feel free to leave your thoughts.


Savannah's mother-in-law, Mary Alice, calls shortly after Liam is born and asks me what kind of cake Savannah likes. I ask Savannah what kind of cake she likes.

She looks at me quizically and asks with complete sincerity, "Why does she want to know what kind of cake I like?"

Happy Birthday, sweet Savannah, even though you had forgotten all about it.

It's Day 4 with Liam and last night was not very easy for Savannah. Her milk is not quite all the way in (I thought it was), and he can only draw a bit at a time, therefore he wants to nurse ALL THE TIME.

Tiny babies don't know what time it is, so Savannah gets no sleep. If he's not nursing, he's crying (loudly). And diapers must be changed. He has that merconium stuff for poop, and its like street tar. OK, way too much information, I know.

After one feeding session in the morning, I put Liam in a body sling and putter around the house while Savannah rests. Slings rock, doncha know. The baby is in swaddle position, can hear your heart beat and they doze off almost immediately. Your natural walking motion is highly calming. You get both hands free to do stuff. Liam is out like a light. Once he wakes up, he just likes to look around, no crying. He also likes to play pull my finger (GOOD BOY!!).

At 11 a.m., Rhonda, one of our doula's, shows up and takes the reins. I am able to run some needed errands and most importantly, Savvy is able to sleep for a while.

Doula's are great. They are professional baby wranglers and also knock out chores like laundry, dishes, food prep and minor housekeeping. They help you make the transition from two people to two and a highly needy third.

It is a luxury to be sure, but we appreciate the short window of time the doula provides for us to leave 'the bubble' and live in reality for a short time. It's worth it.

About 2 p.m., it's time for bath #1 for Liam. Daddy gets the call for the first bath. He (Liam, that is) squalls mightily as he gets in the water, but pretty soon he finds he likes it, and I splash some warm water on him after the washing duties. He likes it and splashes around happily.

Once out, the cries of bloody murder begin anew. Then he is handed off to Mom for some lunch.

Mother-in-law Mary Alice shows up with said cake and a present for Savannah. Angela is also here, and we all enjoy some cake while Liam sleeps. Doc Roberson declines the birthday party as he is suffering from a bad cold (and is probably watching some hoops on TV).

Then its time for another diaper change. For the first time, no black tar poop, just little mustard poop.

I know, I know, waaay too much information.

See you again soon.

Friday, March 23, 2007

No Place Like Home

Dorothy was right: there is no place like home. After a night in the hospital, with personnel coming in at all hours to poke and prod Liam and Savannah, our first night at home with the boy is bliss.

Liam's first night in the big bed goes well. He sleeps a bit, eats a bit, poops a LOT, and then sleeps some more. He has a surprising amount of head strength and is opening his eyes a lot and looking about, and making lots of cooing and other noises that generally make you go "ahhhh, that's SOOO cuuuute."

He has had no problem finding the buffet line and Savvy's milk is in, so no worries there. His skin is a bit dry and he's got some slight diaper rash, but overall things are great.

He does not cry much and we have several secret tricks to cope with that when it happens.

Savannah says I'm the Baby Whisperer since I can almost always calm him. She can calm him too, using her 'buttons' as we call them. That ALWAYS works.

He lost a bit of weight, which is normal, but now that the chow line is open, he will begin gaining it. Back at the hospital, he scored 9 and 9 on his two checkout tests right after birth (the nurse says they never give 10s unless a child is born singing Ave Maria or can levitate), and he passed his hearing test as well.

His little eyes are working fine but like most newbies, he shies away from bright light. He loves to look at Savannah at night when we have a little electric candle on that Taunia gave us (no flame).

He is sleeping a lot today, something we want to change pretty soon (so he sleeps at night), but for now, we are letting him do his thing as he sees fit. He gets some slack this early in the game.

OK, OK, I know you all want to see more photos, so here are a bunch.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

The Perilous Journey

By 5 p.m. Tuesday, Savannah is very frustrated with her apparent lack of progress on the labor and has gone with no sleep for almost two days.

While she continues to have contractions, they aren’t hitting on the classic ‘three to five minute-apart’ schedule that indicates true active labor and the entrance to the home stretch, as it were.

We call the mid-wife and discuss options. She tells us to come up to OHSU for another inspection to see where we stand. Savannah is not feeling hopeful.

“Pack the stuff (three small bags and camera gear) but leave it in the car when we get there since we’ll probably be coming right back home, “ she says sullenly.

Our travel through 5:30 p.m. freeway traffic to OHSU is uneventful and at full legal speed. But we are not in any hurry. Savvy has some contractions in the car but nothing spectacular.

Once at the hospital, Savannah is again inspected and cries when she hears the news: still 95% effaced, but now she is told she is 5 to 6 centimeters dilated! It seems our luck has turned at last. I go back to the car and get the bags, and get the room set up for the second time. We call Taunia, our doula, and Angela. Both soon arrive.

Savannah is put on monitors and we watch the baby’s heart beat steadily at around 150 beats per minute, which is normal. The display also shows Savannah is having contractions, good ones, about every four minutes, like clockwork. Things seemed to be going well. About three hours pass by in this state.

At about 8:15 p.m., the room is crowded with an OB/GYN, another nurse doing prep work, a new midwife, Tina, another nurse, Sarah, myself, Angela, Taunia and what seems like three other new people, all commiserating about this and that and possible medical issues. I am feeling some stress over the number of people in the small room, but all are professionals and doing a job or talking to Savannah about something important.

Savannah’s monitor shows that she has had three contractions about a minute apart. It seems that we are finally turning another corner to get Liam moving closer to birth.

Suddenly, there is a pause.

A few seconds later, the hospital staff members explode into action, pulling wires out of the wall that were connected to Savannah’s bed, activating a small, laptop-styled ultrasound unit and talking quickly into phones and other devices, using terms like “stat,” “immediately” and “prep for surgery.”

Tina, our calm-voiced, almost elfin midwife, looks me dead in the face and says: “This is a serious emergency.”

Savannah is whisked out of the room on her rolling hospital bed and sped down the hall to an operatory. Nurses and doctors who had just been in the room planning labor in a tub and a natural birth are jumping into scrubs, putting on surgical masks and donning those purple nitrile gloves.

Another nurse I had never seen before enters the room and asks me if I have any questions. Well, yeah, where do I start?

Angela, who had just gone down the hall to get me a cup of water, walks back in the room, eyes wide, and asks me what in the world is going on. I have no answer.

A nurse takes me down a hallway from the birthing room to an empty room outside the operatory. Inside the operatory, staff members are plugging all manner of wires and tubes into Savannah, and beeping monitors surround her. Two male doctors (so far, we had only met females) are busy working on Savannah.

Tina, our midwife, finally appears, dressed in full scrubs.

“We are preparing to do an emergency C-section,” she says quickly. “The baby should be out in a few minutes. His heart rate had fallen to 60 back in the room, and we have to get him out if it does not come back up.”

She hands me a set of scrubs, including a hair net and booties. Then she goes back into the room where personnel continued to swirl around Savannah.

Another nurse appears. She tells me that if they put Savannah under using general anesthetic, I won’t be able to go into the operatory to support her. But if she gets an epidural, I will be allowed in. I put on my scrubs as fast as possible.

I get the scrubs on (hey, they fit pretty good, I remember thinking…), and wait a few minutes. Tina emerges from the operatory. The baby’s heart rate has risen to a safe level, so they are rethinking the C-section.

I wait some more, and take a self-timer photo of myself in scrubs. It turns out ridiculous.

Tina returns. She says Savannah is going to get an epidural, but the C-section is now on hold. Additionally, a small electrode will be attached to Liam’s head in-utero so they can precisely monitor his heart rate. Another internal sensor will closely monitor Savannah’s contractions. I am allowed into the operatory.

About ten people surround Savannah, but I am given a small stool to sit on near where her head is on the operating table. Trying to sit on the stool in the awkward scrubs, I promptly send it skidding into some medical equipment. “My bad” I say sheepishly as I recover the stool. Nothing appears to be broken.

Savannah is one her side and two men are working diligently to insert her epidural lines. Their demeanor suggests they are doing some sort of spinal surgery. One man is doing the insertion, while the other one looks over his shoulder. Both seem highly capable.

The guy doing the work on her back is an anesthesiology intern, and the guy overseeing the work is “Professor and Chair” of the OHSU anesthesiology department. I think we are in good hands for the epidural.

Savannah smiles at me. “Crazy, huh?” she says. I can tell in the tone of those two words that she sees the natural birth plan slipping away. I hold her hand while the activity continues. Not once does she cry.

Savannah is not nervous. She is calm, and is quickly and lucidly answering questions and responding to requests to move this way and that. Tubes seem to run from everywhere. She has a catheter (those suck AND hurt), two IV lines, an oxygen mask, blood pressure cuff, two pulse monitors and sensors taped all over the place, not to mention the epidural work going on.

Finally, the epidural is in. We have been in the operatory for what seems like three hours, but it has been about 45 minutes. There is much discussion among the staff about the next move.

Finally, a decision is made. Liam’s heart rate is back up and stable. No C-section will be done at this time. Savannah will be sent to a new room close to the operatory. The drug-free water labor option is a scratch. The top knock-out doc prides himself on his epidurals, and he isn’t kidding. After the drugs are administered, Savannah fears her body will go numb. But quite the opposite happens.

The pros at OHSU have set up the epidural levels very light so that Savannah can labor normally without much pain, but she is not numb to everything. She can easily feel the contractions coming and going. A small machine on a post regulates the dosage, with a button on a tether available to Savannah to jack it up at her discretion. She tells me to make the button go away.

The medical team also think her internal “bag of water” holding Liam is posing a hazard. Liam is floating above the cervix, and the water sac is pressing down, the opposite of what should be happening. If the water should suddenly break (which is normal), Liam’s umbilical cord could prolapse, or fall into the space under his head, and an immediate C-section would be required. A nurse pierces the bag with a tiny incision and slowly drains it. Liam’s body sinks down into the proper position. A small success. Savannah is transferred to a rolling bed and wheeled from the operatory.

Back in the room, Savannah is wired for sound, and Liam is clicking away at 150 beats per minute again, except after contractions, when he drops down to just above 100. The staff does not like this. The spectre of a C-section again appears. Tina does not seem optimistic for a natural birth.

While Savannah worked and prepared mightily for a natural birth, especially during two days of painful and sleepless labor, it suddenly appears that it is not going to happen. While that is disappointing, we both know the ultimate goal is a safe delivery for Liam, and what must be done is what must be done for his safety.

Tina brings in Kathleen, an optimistic and experienced OB/GYN. She checks over Savannah as well, including an internal exam. She has long, slender fingers. Some people are born for their jobs, I think to myself.

Kathleen says Liam’s head is acyncyclic (spelling?), meaning that instead of being lined up to drop through her birth canal, it is nodding to one side. Not good. The C-section looks ever more likely.

But Kathleen wants to try something. She does…. something. She fixes Liam’s head with those long fingers, and suddenly we seem to be back on track. Heart rate? Strong and steady. Position? Ready to move. Savannah? Holding on to hope.

Kathleen makes a suggestion. Why not try to push? Just one time, she says, to see what happens.

Savannah takes a deep breath, locks it in and pushes. Liam moves down.

Over the course of an hour, Kathleen and Tina work with Savannah with more pushing. Taunia continues to give support. Savannah changes positions a few times. I try to encourage her but I don’t think she can hear a thing I’m saying, she is not mentally in the room. With each contraction, she pushes hard four times. They are instinctual, primal and powerful movements for Savannah. Liam moves down a little more each time she pushes.

Then the top of his head appears in the gap.

I put on some surgical gloves and move down to the make the catch. Moments later, Liam’s misshapen head (a normal thing called “moulding”) pops through, and a push later he drops into my hands. He immediately cries loudly, and I hand him to Savannah. He lands on her chest, and his little hand finds her lower lip. Liam Joseph Roberson is born at 2:15 a.m., March 21, 2007, the first day of Spring, six hours after the Equinox.

There are lots of tears and hugs in the room. Liam is remarkably clean and in the pink, not the bloodied alien creature some newborns are. He only cries for a moment, then is quiet. He finds a nipple a few minutes later with no problem. My parents arrive for a short hello visit and some photos. It is nice of them to come in at 3 a.m. to support Savannah and myself.

After snuggling with mom and dad for a while, it’s time to move from the birthing room to a suite. There is a small bunk for dad, and I barely fit in it, but after this ordeal, I could sleep on rocks with no problem.

Before any rest for me (the new daddy), there is the first bath, checkup, footprints and myriad checks, probes, and a few injections to take care of. Liam tips the scales at 7 pounds, 6.6 ounces and when stretched out, is 20.5 inches long. He cries during his bath (preserved on video for future embarrassment), but zonks out afterwards when placed on the heated baby holder. Where can I buy some heat lamps?

At close to 5 a.m., we are all in the new room and I can finally rack out on my little bunk. Liam and Savannah get some quiet time together at last.

Two hours later, we are back up again to change poopy diapers, attempt feeding and comfort the little guy. Thirty-six hours later, Savannah walks through the door of our little home in Portland and Liam takes his first nap (a LONG one) in the big bed. Ella, our faithful dog, is a bit confused by all the fuss.

This will be our life for a little while. Thanks for coming along on our journey.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Pushing The Wagon

Well, all the funny stories and expectations of what we hoped labor would be fell away Monday night. Now at noon on Tuesday, Savannah is closing in on 30 hours of labor, with no sleep.

Following what seemed like strong and well-paced contractions and a soak in the home tub (photo), we drove to OHSU Tuesday morning about 1:30 a.m. thinking we would be bouncing baby Liam on our knees by morning.

Not even close.

We got checked in to the hospital room and they hooked Savannah up to some electronic monitors, and everything seemed copasetic. Angela, Savannah's great friend, joined us despite the late hour.

Then, Savannah’s favorite midwife, Penny, who was there at the time, helped check her out and we got some not-so-great news: no dilation. That means the door for Mr. Liam to enter the world (at least the 'regular' door) was still closed. Disappointed, we packed up and returned home about 4:30 a.m. Angela went home as well.

Once at home, Savannah was wracked by contractions every 3 to 6 minutes and has been ever since. No chance for any sleep, and she feels she must stand most all the time, as lying in bed is too painful. She has refused any pain medication. She feels it is important to experience this uniquely female journey in all its glory - and pain. If things go awry, we will of course administer proper medical intervention. But so far, it is all going well, albeit slowly.

Our doula (a professional delivery helper), Taunia, arrived about 8:30 a.m. Tuesday and is definitely helping Savannah in myriad ways. The contractions are less painful with her guidance. She knows many more relaxing positions as well. But the contractions keep coming, and with no sleep in over a day, Savannah is very tired and her little body is fatigued. But she soldiers on like a trooper. By the way, Savannah is also a doula. But even doulas need help.

We have a saying in our home: "pushing the wagon." Whenever Savannah or myself feel tired or don't want to do something that needs to be done, we remind ourselves of the pioneers who settled this area, often traveling in covered wagons, and what they had to go through to just make it here. Very often, on some of the seemingly impossibly steep passes through the Cascade mountains (no Highway 26 back then), the pioneers families would have to get out and push the wagon to make it over the top of the pass, no matter how crappy the weather, how sick (or pregnant) they were or how dangerous it was. Some didn't make it. You have to push the wagon very hard.

Right now, Savannah is pushing the wagon very, very hard despite no sleep and great discomfort.

We want to thank everyone who has been calling and texting. Your support is very important to us. As things change, I will try to keep the blog updated. Thanks for your prayers and support.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Things Are Happening!

Savannah has been having steady contractions since early in the morning Monday (but after I went to work). She had a checkup with the midwife at about 10 a.m. Our good friend Angela has been driving her around just to be safe.

The midwife had good news: it looks like Savannah is in early labor. Her contractions are steady and strong. For you ladies, the midwife says she has 90% effacement, and she had a bit of spotting as well - both good signs. No measurement on dilation yet, but we are pretty sure things are going as planned.

In order to try and shake the little fella loose, we three went on a walk to Rose City Park at about 3 p.m., and ended up parked under some trees while a small monsoon moved through the area. We had a few laughs over that. Ella joined us and had fun getting drenched while hunting for squirrels (score so far: Squirrels 357, Ella 0).

For those of you who have never seen our home, the photo is of our little red house in the woods (as we call it), since there are 10 tall trees on our little plot. It is a good house, and an old house with lots of squeaks and creaks. We both like it here.

We are planning to have Liam at Oregon Health Sciences University, better known as OHSU, and locally known as Pill Hill (because the hospital is on a hill). We will be in a birthing suite, which is a lot less clinical than a typical hospital room, with subdued lighting and such. Best of all, there is a big birthing tub in the room. Savannah's experience with other women giving birth has shown that a tub full of warm water greatly increases a woman's comfort and can speed up the process a bit. Liam will not be born IN the water, she will be out of the tub by then.

I'm sure many people are wondering if I, being a photographer/videographer, will be recording the Blessed Event as it were, and the answer is: no, I won't be. I will have other responsibilities at the time of birth that are more pressing, and Savvy and I both agree that the moment of truth is best remembered rather than preserved for posterity.

But shortly after the little guy makes his appearance, I will probably be reaching for a camera....

Watch for updates, we'll have a computer with us and OHSU has WiFi, so I'll post some photos a few hours after the big arrival!

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Relaxing in the Pacific Northwest Sun

(Savannah writing)

We had a lovely weekend of sun and enjoyed spending several hours soaking it in. Still waiting for Liam's arrival, as patiently as possible. We believe birth goes best when it happens by natural timing so we are relaxing and enjoying our last few moments, hours or days before the journey of birth and new baby land begins! I am a bit uncomfortable, having lots of early/pre labor. I am confident my body knows just what it is doing.

(Bill writng)

WHEN THE HECK IS THIS BABY GONNA GET HERE?? OK, just kidding, but I'd like it if he'd show up soon if only for the comfort of Savannah, who is soldiering on daily with back pain, indigestion, bladder pressure, and sleep discomforts.

Went down to the anti-war rally as a journalist today and took many photos for . It looked to me like 20,000 people attended. Savannah was going to attend, but opted out due to visions of having the baby in the middle of the rally.

We also visited our friends Breana and Rich today. They have a brand new baby boy, just a few days old. A good preview for me as to what's to come. They have two other small children as well. The newest arrival, via home birth, is Kiran (kear-uhn). He is a very cute little baby. Here's a photo as I was holding him:

Saturday, March 17, 2007

March 17, St. Paddy's Day

Savannah had a few "painful" contractions last night, but nothing major, and she slept good otherwise. It would be fun if the little guy were to arrive today, but he will come when he is ready. Savvy tells me that the due date (ours was yesterday) is pretty much a rough estimate, but said she also felt it was bit like her birthday.... except no present arrived.

We have been walking every day (Sav walks slowly with lots of rest stops) as that is supposed to get things moving along. I suggested some scary movies might work, but got vetoed on that. I'll have to watch Alien alone, again.....

The walks have been good though, and Spring is really springing over at Rose City Park, where we stroll around the golf course each evening. The pink cherry blossoms are popping on the trees, which reminds me of my March 2004 trip to Japan. I left Tokyo just as the Cherry Blossom festivites were getting serious. It is their Easter of sorts there, and they whoop it up pretty good.

Here's a photo of Sav and Ella along the path we walk each day, with Spring beginning to bloom.

Like the song says, sometimes the waiting is the hardest part.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Welcome to our blog!

As you can see, we are pregnant. Yes, Savannah is doing all the heavy lifting, but it is a two-person operation to be sure. This blog was created March 15, and our due date is March 16. Personally, I'd like it if the boy arrived on St. Paddy's (March 17), but Savannah says "any time now is just fine."

On the night of the 14th, Savannah was feeling like the time had come, but following a check with the midwife at OHSU on the morning of the 15th, we are still waiting.