The other day I was listening to Neyo's "Because of You" and while it is about one man's addiction to a woman he loves.. the strong feeling he describes in his song makes me think of my son.

Where are we now with Mr. Bubbles? Well, Mr. Bubbles is now eleven months. He's a strong, happy, beautiful lil fella. His complexion is midway between the wubby's fair and my dark.. he is truly our cafe au lait. He has beautiful long eyelashes that frame rich brown eyes.. His sweet, round face is crowned with soft, milk chocolate hair..with just a hint of wave.. and remarkably his hair is PAST his shoulders. It never dropped. It just kept growing and growing and growing. We plan to cut his hair--FOR THE FIRST TIME--on his birthday. In keeping with the traditions of my family, he will be shorn at ONE YEAR EXACTLY.

Trust me, it'll be time for him to lose the locks. He is often mistaken for a girl. But I guess that's hard for me to believe b/c he looks like a lil boy to ME. The other day we were shopping.. the wubby, the bubbie, and me. We picked up a few items..and then made our way to the cash register. The cashier smiled at our lil fella.. who (flirt that he is) smiled back.. We moved towards the bagger to collect our purchases when he reached over, squeezed Mister Man's cheeks (always a no no) and then announced: What a beautiful lil girl you have.

Mr Bubbles frowned at him.

I mean he actually FROWNED.

His expression said: You need glasses or sumfin???????

Ehehehehe..

Thankfully, in addition to his sweet cherubic looks, Mr Bubbles was born with a sweet, laid back disposition. We got lucky with this kid. He started sleeping for 7 hours a night at two months. He slept on his own at one month. Okay, he was sleeping in a swing.. but he moved from that into his crib at four months. Since four months, he's been going down at about 7:30 or 8:00 pm and sleeping--without waking--until about 7:00 a.m.

His crazed, dazed parents appreciate that.. Cos trust me, we've heard the horror stories.

The colicky babies.

The restless babies.

The sleep deprived, irritable babies--with burned out parents.

It ain't us.

Knock on hard plastic!!!!

Damn, I soooo need to change the title of my blog..

AND..

I must update.

Hmmmm.. what's happening in Lezzie land??? Is Motherhood all I hoped it to be?? It is that and more. I never thought it was possible to love another person as much as I love my son. But god knows, he is my everything. I'll admit--in the beginning--the sheer exhaustion of getting through a day--dampened my newfound enthusiasm. But something happened the day my son turned two months. His facial expressions changed..and he seemed more an independent person. There was more interaction..

..and

HE STARTED SLEEPING LONGER..allowing his mama's to SLEEP LONGER.

YEH, BABEE.

It was unbelievable that 'round two months, he went from sleeping in short shifts of two hour naps to sleeping for seven and eight hours at a stretch..

..at night!!

Of course, it was first between the wubby and I..

..then it was his swing..

..then, remarkably, we got him into his crib (though we moved with him--from our bedroom into his.)

..then, one day, he was in HIS bedroom and we were in our own.

Ahh.. our bedroom.. our life.

Another miracle.. The Lil Fella is on a SCHEDULE. He eats at a certain time, plays a certain time, baths at a certain times, and sleeps (naps) at a certain time.

His schedule is due in strong part to his caregiver--an old fashioned African-American woman--who believes that infants/toddlers/children NEED structure... and my partner.. who believes that we need our sanity!

The first four months of Lil Man's life was spent at home with his Mama..then, my partner went back to work and Lil Man went to his caregiver. Trust and believe, it was difficult for ALL parties, but we adjusted. Now, each morning, I take him to his caregiver..and each evening I bring him home to his other mama. That has been the course of his life from four months until the present.

Now our son is a robust, healthy seven months. He is the spitting image of my partner, with the slight hint of a tan..and her sweet personality, with a lil of my impish-ness. Still hard to believe that he is in our lives..and that we have come this far..

..more to come.. esp. regarding the wubby and I and our r/s with our families.

How has the Clickz life changed? Well, my time belongs entirely to someone else..and I'm not resentful. Not even a little bit. Mr. Bubbles' first month on this Earth required a bit o' re-adjustment in my life. It required me anticipating the wubby's needs, staying ready at a moment's notice for the smallest or largest..and perhaps, odious task. Diaper changing and behind washing comes to mind.. It required creativity regarding our shared financing.. b/c as the wubby settled in for a few months as a stay at home mother, we saw a significant reduction in our income. However, with an infant, there are always unexpected expenses.. and we've had them.

Knock on polyurethane.. the baby showers we had mightily prepared us for our child. We had all the clothes, diapers, cleaning accoutrements, furniture, formula, and toys we could ever hope to need. God bless thoughtful family and friends!!!

As Mr. Bubbles moved from his first month into his second month of life, things began easing for the wubby and me. No, we didn't settle into a schedule.. Far from it.. but we had paid attention to our lil fella and we began to notice certain things. We noticed that went he would fidget or pull his fist close to his face, he was probably hungry.. or when he pulled his hair, he was tired. We marveled at new and emerging skills.. like the first time he was able to follow an object with his eyes.. or when he held his head up.. or when he held his trunk up.. the first time he grasped an object in his hand..

..or even recently, when he rolled onto his side.

We loved bath time with the lil man.. esp. when he kicked the water. Of course, the one thing I didn't like about bath time was the one thing I didn't like about changing his diaper.

GETTING WHAZZED IN THE FACE.

He would just lay there.. let a stream arc towards me.. and then start smirking as I squealed in surprise. Now..

...when I see that lil smirk, I place my hand over his lil winkie and wait for him to finish whazzing. Then I finish bathing, washing, and/or changing him.

The wubby's favorite time with the wubby is definitely bath and bed time. She will sit him in his lil tub, washing him gently, before pulling him out and wrapping him in a thick, fleecy towel. She then takes him into our bedroom, where she lays him down and massages him with fragrant (organic) body oil. The whole time he watches her face with a smile on his face. Then she quickly dresses him.. tops him off with a lil wubby milk product and then holds or rocks him til he falls to sleep. When we settled him down.. we loved nothing more than to watch his gentle sleeping face.. so sweet and tender.

Yes, sleep time is truly the best time of the day.

More to come..

All together now.. awwwwwwww.

That's the collective expression I tend to get from folks when they see pictures of my lil fella, Mr. Bubbles. He IS just THAT beautiful. Big ole brown eyes, chubby lil cheeks, and the fullest head of black hair you'd ever find on a lil person. My beautiful baby boy!!!!!

Updates..

Well, Mr. Bubbles is now officially four months. He is the absolute apple of his mamas' eyes.. the reason we get up and go to work. I'll be frank, the first few weeks of Mr. Bubbles' life was tough for his mommies. I loooooooooove my sleep..and Mr. Bubbles thought nothing of having a few cat naps and waking me and the wubby up at 2 a.m. in the morning.

People, I have found that you can still operate on lack of sleep!!!!!! You just don't operate WELL. I could still change his diapers, rock him till he fell to sleep, stay awake as the wubby breastfed him.. make meals for her..and generally serve as household moving man (shifting furniture to suit the wubby's moods). i could even go to work and do work.

Try to sit and re-read some of the crap I submitted to the courts?!?! I cringe to think if other lawyers and the judges wondered if I was on drugs.

It felt like it half the time.

But I'd do it all again and more.. for the feeling that settled in my heart everytime I saw my beautiful baby boy.

More to come.

Folks, this is probably one of my longer posts.. but I've spent nearly 5 days savoring my son..and 7 thinking about how he came into this world..

Day One—Sunday

The wubby had been preparing herself to go in to be induced on Monday. She was pretty much resigned to having a “Yankee Doodle Baby.” Days before the inevitable, we had gotten plenty of advice to speed Mr. Bubbles progress along. The wubby had been encouraged to take long walks, eat a lot of pineapple, and receive three ceremonial taps on the backside with a broom (an Old African tradition for post-term mothers and stubborn children). She had packed her hospital bag, weeks before, and she spent most of Sunday tidying up. That should have been a clue right there. During the evening, she got up to go to the bathroom several times, but that didn’t seem out of the ordinary—as all expectant mothers find themselves bathroom bound until the birth of their child. She also complained of gas pains. That should have been a sign, but maybe she had eaten something out of the ordinary..and as we learned throughout this pregnancy: GAS HAPPENS!!

Day Two—Monday

Anyhoo, the next day, the wubby’s gas pains (cramps) continued. She didn’t complain, just readied herself for our check-in time. She was told to call the hospital ‘round 2 pm to confirm that the census was low, thus allowing us a bed in the ward. The nurse she spoke with—a very jolly West Indian woman—encouraged the wubby to call back around 4 pm.. and we resigned ourselves to waiting another day, b/c it didn’t seem that encouraging. Well, we called at 4 pm, they checked the census and found that there was enough space for us “inducees” and we were encouraged to come to the Hospital.

The hospital we chose to have Mr. Bubbles is one of the better hospitals in our fair City. We were familiar with its hotel-like appearance when we visited my mother there, after she had surgery last year. However, we weren’t prepared for the Delivery Ward. The rooms are large and spacious and designed for one occupant only. If having a vaginal birth, you give birth in that room and convalesce there for the remainder of your stay. You AND your baby!! There is a nursery, but they simply provide care for the more challenged newborns and daily, routine assessments for other newborns.

The wubby’s room had a comfortable bed, bright large windows, an armoire for her clothes..and a nice bathroom with a whirlpool bathtub. We were tickled by that. It also had a pull out bed for me, as well. Soon after we got to the hospital, they hooked the wubby up to a machine—one that would register contractions, as well as monitor Mr. Bubbles’ heartbeat. Needless to say, once they hooked the wubby up to the machine, they announced that she was in the midst of her contractions. Who knew? She was having contractions every 7 to 8 minutes and she thought that they were gas pains. Her doctor was told and he relayed a message to the nurses that he would be to the hospital at 7 pm to administer a cervix softening agent. In fact, he figured that it would take approx. 12 hours for it to encourage further dilation and then they’d jumpstart the wubby’s contractions with pitocin a few hours after that. Well, true champ that she is.. the wubby proved ‘em all wrong. She was 2 cm dilated by the time the doctor arrived to administer the softening agent..and three to four hours after he left the hospital, the wubby was about 5-6 cms dilated. She did have a few bad moments before it got serious—like throwing up a nice falafel sandwich and some tabouli we had enjoyed early that day—but it seemed to suggest the onset of stronger contractions. In fact, she was having the contractions every 4 minutes.

Day Three—Tuesday

Sometime around midnight on July 4th, they placed the wubby’s epidural..and around 3 or 4 a.m. that morning, the doctor broke her bag. She started pushing around 4:30 or 5 a.m. and god love her, she pushed for 4 ½ hours. We kept seeing the top of the baby’s head, with these long black locks.. then it would disappear. We all thought that sooner or later, the baby would crown and we’d be welcoming a new addition. But it wasn’t to be. Around 8:30 a.m., maybe 9 o’clock, the doctor told us that he was switching to Plan B—a caesarean section. I can’t say that I took the news that well, but the wubby was up for anything that would ensure safe delivery of our child. And give credit where credit is due, with all that pushing..and the top of Mr. Bubbles’ head in the birth canal, Mr. Bubbles’ heart beat never dropped below 120 bpm. I called the wubby’s mother, who had been up most of the morning—waiting for news of the birth—and told her. Then my mother prayed over us and the wubby was wheeled into the OR. They prepped the wubby quickly and before long, the doctor began making incisions in her abdomen. I held my breath, waiting to see our son..and when they finally broke through and the doctor grabbed Mr. Bubbles’ head and shoulders, I expressed shock at the amount of hair on the boy’s head. While I was still exclaiming over his locks, the doctor’s eyeballs were bulging over the size and length of Mr. Bubbles..and we all got a good dose of Mister Man’s irritability, when he cussed us from womb to cleaning table..and right down the hall to the nursery. They allowed the wubby to see and kiss him—still screaming—before ferrying him to the nursery for his first assessment.

The doctor sewed the wubby up and I heard from the nurses that it was the best job they had ever seen. The wubby has a small incision, with the neatest little stitches. Her doctor must do his own hemming b/c I haven’t seen better yet.

I followed Mr. Bubbles to the nursery and watched as he was weighed—8 lbs, 7 oz.—and then went back to the OR to wait for the wubby. They wheeled her into the room, but kept Mr. Bubbles for glucose testing. As he was rather large for his gestational age, they wanted to be sure his size was not due to gestational diabetes. I went to visit the nursery and watched him through the glass as he sat under a little heat lamp. A proud father walked by and complimented me on my beautiful daughter. I had to correct him and tell him that was my beautiful son. I think he was shocked by the amount of hair on Mr. Bubbles’ head.

Four hours after he was born, he was reunited with his beaming parents. the wubby breastfed him, with some limited success and then passed out..

..and then our adventure began..

Day Four—Wednesday

Poor wubby still had her epidural, IV’s and catheter in..and the nurses wanted to make sure that we did all we could to ensure the wubby’s healthy recovery. To that end, she was placed on a liquid diet.

That lasted one day.

On Wednesday, she was allowed solids and we were handed a menu for food from the nutritional center. Needless to say, you feel as though you are at a hotel. You have various entrees for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Drinks of all types, desserts, etc. You order your food by phone and it is delivered to your room. the wubby’s first solid meal was baked chicken with green beans and mashed potatoes. I can’t recall what—if any—was had for dessert. Throughout the day, we got numerous calls from well wishers..and I could see the wubby was getting worn out. Mr. Bubbles’ godmothers drove all the way down from San Antonio—a 3 ½ hr trip to see the lil fella and visit with the wubby and I. They helped my mother get from the house to the hospital, several times. Ultimately, my mother got a rental car and was free to go and come as she pleased.

The nurses that tended to the wubby were wonderful and patient and they showed her the utmost care. The wubby’s catheter was removed and we were happy when she was able to urinate without assistance. We were also encouraged to start walking as soon as possible, which we did later that evening—taking a comfortable stroll around the ward.

In the meantime, Mr. Bubbles was giving us major caniption fits. He had been breastfeeding as best he could from birth, but the wubby was having problems with “latching.” By the time Wednesday rolled around, we could see that the wubby had some pretty bad bruises—and in one case—broken skin from bad latching. The nurses scheduled a visit with the lactation consultant for us. She was absolutely wonderful. She showed the wubby a number of “tricks” and before long, Mr. Bubbles was breastfeeding like a champ!!!

We were also worried about the rattling sound in Mr. Bubbles’ chest whenever he breathed. The pediatrician checked him out and said that it was a fairly normal thing for babies born by caesarean section and that it should clear up quickly. We suctioned him often, but the doctor cautioned us against prolonged and frequent suction b/c she felt it would further aggravate the situation. One night—exhausted beyond reason—we checked Mr. Bubbles into the nursery. His breathing—filled with grunts, snorts, and coughs—had us immensely worried. The nursery nurses assured us that was normal and would pass, but kept Mr. Bubbles for the night.

The wubby and I slept for four hours.. the longest we had gotten since Monday.

Day Five—Thursday.

I went to work and took care of a few items, leaving the wubby and Mr. Bubbles to their own devices. While I was gone, they removed the wubby’s IV and her epidural..and she was assured that she and the baby would be discharged the following day.

When I returned later that day, the wubby seemed exhausted and Mr. Bubbles cranky. I spoke with one of the nursery nurses who urged us to supplement Mr. Bubbles’ breastfeeding as the wubby was not yet producing enough to satisfy him. She was also worried about his color—a pretty dull yellow—which suggested jaundice. I spoke to the wubby about it and she seemed reluctant, wanting all of Mr. Bubbles’ nutrition to come from breastmilk. However, we were assured by the nurses that the odd bit of Similac or Enfamil did not make a baby less predisposed to breastmilk. The nurse gave us an 8 pack of Enfamil and a bunch of nipples and we fed Mr. Bubbles about an ounce of Enfamil after he breastfed. He fell straight to sleep.

Again, exhausted beyond reason, we checked Mr. Bubbles back into the nursery.

We got another four hours of sleep.

Day Five—Friday

The day began at 5: 00 a.m. when the nurses wheeled Mr. Bubbles back into our room. The wubby and I were in better spirits, having rested for a few hours. I began some limited cleaning up of our room, while the wubby tended to Mr. Bubbles. The doctor arrived early that morning, checked the wubby’s incision and “other parts” and gave us instructions on how to care and clean her wounds. We had a visit from the pediatric audiologist who checked Mr. Bubbles’ hearing and gave him a “pass” score. The wubby and I had breakfast and then I went to the office, took care of a few things, and when I returned the doctor had discharged Mr. Bubbles and the wubby. She and I wrote a lovely letter to the staff of the hospital, b/c they had gone above and beyond with us. Right before we left, some of the nurses came in and wished us well, commented on the significant adorability factor of our son and then heavied us down with everything they could find in the room—diapers, wash clothes, lotion, towelettes. We even received a diaper bag, filled with booklets and coupons, in addition to the free Enfamil and nipples the nursery nurses gave us for Mr. Bubbles. We got our birth record from one of the staff members and god love them—at our doctor’s urging—they whited out the section “father” and allowed us to have my name inserted as a “parent.” We were encouraged to bring Mr. Bubbles back to be tested for his bilirubin levels, b/c the doctors were still concerned about his jaundice.

Again, the nursery nurses encouraged us to supplement until the wubby’s milk production begins in earnest and a few of the other nurses encouraged us to allow Mr. Bubbles access to indirect sunlight.

With bags bulging with contraband and loaded down with plenty of advice, we were ready to leave the hospital. One of the older nurses assisted us load up our “trolley” and the wubby and Mr. Bubbles were wheeled down to the lobby. As the wubby was waiting for our car to be brought up by the valet, a woman walked over and pronounced Mr. Bubbles a “beautiful baby.” Like all parents, we beamed with pride. As Mr. Bubbles was fairly satiated with milk, he could care less..and I don’t think he even opened his eyes. We fit him in the car, the valet loaded up our luggage and bags and we headed home. We fed the lil fella, allowed the dogs and cats to familiarize themselves with him, and then set up the co-sleeper. My mother took Mr. Bubbles for a walk in the backyard to let him get a lil sun and then we spent the evening feeding and changing him. OFTEN!!!

The dogs are very protective of him and the cat has established herself as the night warden for him as he sleeps. She lay on our bed and watched him for most of the night and if he cried, she was sure to walk over to us and meow loudly.

Day Six—Saturday

Early in the a.m., the wubby found her breasts leaking milk. Mr. Bubbles was happy. He has been pooping more yellow-tinged stools.. but that is a good sign. We spent sometime with my mother, who fussed over her new grandson and generally helped tidy the house and prepare the odd meal for the wubby. We had to take Mr. Bubbles back to the hospital to be tested for bilirubin levels in his blood..and we were reluctant to leave the house with our new bundle of joy. But we went, spoke with all of the lovely nurses who cared for us, and turned Mr. Bubbles over to have his blood drawn.. or whatever they do to get samples/specimens.

Ahh, goodness. You could hear him hollering halfway down the hall. The kid has got a healthy pair of lungs on him. When it was all said and done, we took Mr. Bubbles back home.. where he slept a few hours, giving us some respite. Later that evening, the hospital called to give us the results. Some nincompoop asked me who I was when I answered the phone and asked for the results. She then asked me if she could speak to the “mother.” I handed the phone over to the wubz, irritated..and the first thing out of the wubby’s mouth before the asshole on the other end could get a word in edgewise was—If its something to do with this child, you talk to me or my partner. We are BOTH the mothers of this child. Understood?

I could hear some groveling in the background.. but I beamed at my partner, who despite the pain, still found enough strength to broke her foot off in someone’s ass.