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LJ wouldn't let me post yesterday so you missed out on my whole long thing about how I foolishly cut Isaac's hair and what was I thinking, now it's all jagged and uneven and he looks like a kid whose mom cut his hair, etc. etc. But it was more wittily written last night. Oh well. Anyway, ( see for yourself. )

Also, anotherjen reminded me that I never posted Isaac's May pictures here, including all the ones from last week's baseball game, so here's that link. And while I'm at it, here are some pix of our new home, including some fun before-and-after shots. I am a menace with the digital camera, have I mentioned?

In other news, my DSL is hooked up, so I am once again net-enabled at home. Yay! I also got my first mortgage bill and had a bout of sticker shock. Not yay! I also got a water bill from the city, claiming that I owe them $0.00. Um, okay?

One year ago....

One year ago today I spent the day in the hospital, a day at times scary, at other times boring, at other times frustrating, and overall extremely stressful. I was admitted to the hospital around 1 a.m. with preterm contractions; soon thereafter I received several injections (some to slow/stop the contractions, others to help Isaac's lungs develop), and then I spent a long time lying around, unable to really relax because the drugs had made my heart race, and because I didn't know what was going to happen or whether the baby would be okay or even whether I'd be able to have the natural drug-free birth I had planned.

Of course, the following day I would be released from the hospital to go home on bedrest, but I didn't know that at the time. They kept telling me different things, from "you're going to have this baby within the next 24 hours" to "you might have to be on bedrest for the next six weeks." That was one of the most frustrating parts.

It's hard to believe that almost a year has gone by since Isaac was born (Friday will be his actual birthday), but in some ways even harder to believe is that I went through all that stressful stuff and managed it as well as I did. I mean, I don't think I exactly handled it with the dignity and grace of a debutante or anything, but I dealt, and in retrospect I'm kind of amazed I didn't completely lose it more often than I did. *g* It almost kind of feels like stuff that happened to someone else -- some stronger and more capable than little ole me.

Even scarier and more frustrating (and, yes, at times boring) than that first day in the hospital, were the first few days after he was born, when he was in the nursery hooked up to zillions of machines, with tubes going into his nose, special lights irradiating his little body, his every movement and bodily function scrutinized, machines beeping whenever he so much as twitched (or so it seemed), a cold sterile environment that made it so hard to feel connected to a tiny person who had just shoved his way out of you. I'm just glad that the hospital staff were so kind and caring, and particularly that they were so pro-breastfeeding; they spent lots of time helping me get Isaac's latch established so that we would know he'd be able to nurse, and I could at least do that for him, even if I had to spend most of my time lying around in my room down the hall from him, bleeding and crying and doing ridiculously easy crosswords and occasionally choking down some food.

On the Friday, two days after he was born, when I was officially released from the hospital (although still allowed to stay in my room), I went home briefly with my mom to get some stuff. It was the most surreal feeling, and I cried all the way there and back, feeling like I had abandoned him to the ten zillion doctors and nurses. I had never imagined that I might leave the hospital without my baby, even just for an hour or two. Of course, I did it again on Saturday to go to my baby shower, if you wanna talk about surreal!

But anyway, he finally did get better, and he did learn how to breastfeed, and I finally did leave the hospital with my baby, and here we are almost a year later and doing great. I even get to sleep sometimes. ;) He still nurses like a champ, and really seems to have almost no ill effects of having been so early; as with so many things, the psychological trauma to mom far outlives the momentary physical trauma to baby. Isaac is, and will be, fine.

Just felt a need to write all of that. In some ways I feel like today, the anniversary of the day I first went into labor, is as deserving of commemoration as his actual birthday.