We're three weeks away from the birth of our second son and the question that keeps gnawing at me, like an itch I can't scratch, is this -
How is having another child, another son, going to impact J.P.?
Although it seems like a question to which the answer should be straightforward and fairly simple, it's not. It's a question to which the answer is nuanced and layered with complexities. It seems that way to me, anyway.
The answer to that question worries me. It worries me a lot. I think about the answer when I go to bed at night and when I wake up in the morning. I think about it when I'm driving to and from work and when I'm at work. I think about it when I'm running. Really, I think about it all the time.
J.P. is my firstborn and, but for a miracle of sorts (in my mind), he was going to be my only child. Don't get me wrong, Jude and I are blessed beyond belief to have another son on the way. I love him more than life itself. Now, though, I've got to grow my heart big enough to love another child - another son - as much and in the same way as I love J.P. I hope I can do it. I really do.
I've been joking lately about this but, as with most jokes, this one hides and insecurity. When J.P. goes to sleep on February 20, 2012, he'll still be "the man." When he wakes up February 21, 2012, or shortly thereafter, he'll be just another man. How will he handle that realization in his soon to be 4-year old mind? Will it make him insecure? Will he lose any confidence or self-esteem? Will it make him sad?
Will he know and realize that he is my firstborn son and he always will be? Will he realize, now, that he will always have a special place in my heart for that and so many other reasons? I hope so. I really do.
I know parents (and children) make this transition every day. I know that. I do. Still, it's the first time for me. The first time for J.P. Until now, he's been in large part the focus of my life for almost four years. My mood and my state of mind have been predicated upon his. If he's been sick, I've been worried. If he's been happy and in a good mood, I've been happy and in a good mood. When he has been asleep, I've relaxed.
But soon, very soon, that's going to change. It's like I'll have to develop a split personality, because I'll have two sons around which to center my life, not just one. I'm not sure I know how to do that and I'm worried if I don't do it right, J.P. will suffer the consequences. I've got to find a way to be happy when J.P. is happy but, at the same time, to be able to worry about my new son if he's crying.
It's confounding, really, but I guess like so many things in life, it comes down to faith. Or, having faith, I should say. Faith that when the time comes, I'll know what to do and how to act. Faith that God will bless me with the wisdom, energy and enough love in my heart for two children. Two sons, no less.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
In Range
Today, Jude and I went to Baptist Hospital for her weekly NST (non-stress test). By now, we know the drill. We arrive, check in out front, then get an escort back to triage. There, a nurse takes us to a room and after Jude gets "comfortable" (that's a relative term), she's hooked up to a machine that monitors our unborn son's heartbeat. The nurse leaves and we talk quietly or read. The results are transmitted real time to our doctor, Roseann Maikis, and after she gets 30 minutes of solid results, we're free to go.
This afternoon, I stretched out on the built in couch next to Jude's hospital bed and fell asleep for a few minutes to the comforting sound of our son's strong, rhythmic heartbeat in the background, sweet music to my ears.
Within a half hour or so, the nurse came back into the hospital room and told us everything looked (and sounded) great. We left and drove over to Roseann Maikis' office. Before she called Jude back, I had to leave to pick up J.P. from school, so Jude was on her own. Roseann was pleased with how Jude is doing and everything appears to be on schedule for our February 21 c-section. Three weeks away.
Damn.
This afternoon, I stretched out on the built in couch next to Jude's hospital bed and fell asleep for a few minutes to the comforting sound of our son's strong, rhythmic heartbeat in the background, sweet music to my ears.
Within a half hour or so, the nurse came back into the hospital room and told us everything looked (and sounded) great. We left and drove over to Roseann Maikis' office. Before she called Jude back, I had to leave to pick up J.P. from school, so Jude was on her own. Roseann was pleased with how Jude is doing and everything appears to be on schedule for our February 21 c-section. Three weeks away.
Damn.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Cyndi
I think I've expressed this thought before, but in life, you're really lucky if you can find one friend, one true friend, you can count on to support you unequivocally. I'm talking about the kind of friend who comes when you call for help, no matter the distance between the two of you or how busy he or she is. For Jude (and for me, really), Cyndi Baines is that kind of friend.
A couple of weeks ago, I called Cyndi in Florida and asked her if she could visit us before Jude had our baby. Without a moment's hesitation, she agreed. Jude is Cyndi's best friend and her visits always seem to energize Jude. Almost 8 months into her pregnancy, I knew Jude could use the energy boost. J.P.'s excitement about Cyndi's visit was a bonus.
After I picked up her up at the airport and we put J.P. to bed, Jude, Cyndi and I stayed up and talked for a while. Cyndi and I shared a bottle of red wine before we all turned in for the night.
Saturday morning, the 4 of us set up shop in the kitchen for breakfast, enjoying what amounted to a 3 or 4 course meal. Jude handed out waffles as quickly as she make them, while I was cooking bacon. I scrambled some eggs, which we polished off in short order. I brought up from the basement 2 large tubs of J.P.'s baby clothes and we marveled at the tiny socks, caps and onesies. Jude and Cyndi sorted through the clothes while J.P. and I went to a birthday party for a classmate of his at Bounce U. Later, while J.P. napped, I slogged through the water and mud at Shelby Bottoms on an 8-mile trail run.
Saturday night, Jude and Cyndi saw an awesome Predators-Blackhawks game at the Bridgestone Arena. J.P. and I had dinner at Chago's Cantina (formerly La Fiesta). For the second night in a row, Jude, Cyndi and I stayed up late talking.
This morning, Cyndi accompanied J.P. and me on our weekly trip to Bongo Java for breakfast. J.P. got a real kick out of showing her around and introducing her to some of the other regulars at our favorite coffee shop. J.P. and I went to church at St. Patrick while Jude and Cyndi finished washing and drying the baby clothes they'd sorted through yesterday afternoon. As is always the case, though, Cyndi's visit ended too quickly and I dropped her off at the airport a couple of hours ago.
Here's the thing - Cyndi Baines is like a sister to Jude, she really is. It warmed my heart this weekend just watching them together, talking and laughing. Cyndi's family and I wouldn't have it any other way.
A couple of weeks ago, I called Cyndi in Florida and asked her if she could visit us before Jude had our baby. Without a moment's hesitation, she agreed. Jude is Cyndi's best friend and her visits always seem to energize Jude. Almost 8 months into her pregnancy, I knew Jude could use the energy boost. J.P.'s excitement about Cyndi's visit was a bonus.
After I picked up her up at the airport and we put J.P. to bed, Jude, Cyndi and I stayed up and talked for a while. Cyndi and I shared a bottle of red wine before we all turned in for the night.
Saturday morning, the 4 of us set up shop in the kitchen for breakfast, enjoying what amounted to a 3 or 4 course meal. Jude handed out waffles as quickly as she make them, while I was cooking bacon. I scrambled some eggs, which we polished off in short order. I brought up from the basement 2 large tubs of J.P.'s baby clothes and we marveled at the tiny socks, caps and onesies. Jude and Cyndi sorted through the clothes while J.P. and I went to a birthday party for a classmate of his at Bounce U. Later, while J.P. napped, I slogged through the water and mud at Shelby Bottoms on an 8-mile trail run.
Saturday night, Jude and Cyndi saw an awesome Predators-Blackhawks game at the Bridgestone Arena. J.P. and I had dinner at Chago's Cantina (formerly La Fiesta). For the second night in a row, Jude, Cyndi and I stayed up late talking.
This morning, Cyndi accompanied J.P. and me on our weekly trip to Bongo Java for breakfast. J.P. got a real kick out of showing her around and introducing her to some of the other regulars at our favorite coffee shop. J.P. and I went to church at St. Patrick while Jude and Cyndi finished washing and drying the baby clothes they'd sorted through yesterday afternoon. As is always the case, though, Cyndi's visit ended too quickly and I dropped her off at the airport a couple of hours ago.
Here's the thing - Cyndi Baines is like a sister to Jude, she really is. It warmed my heart this weekend just watching them together, talking and laughing. Cyndi's family and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Church
Last week at church, while Father David was giving the homily, J.P. leaned toward Jude and whispered "why did Jesus die?"
Today, in church, while Father David was giving the homily, J.P. leaned toward me and whispered "Daddy, can I get on your shoulders?"
That's my son.
Today, in church, while Father David was giving the homily, J.P. leaned toward me and whispered "Daddy, can I get on your shoulders?"
That's my son.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Mixed Emotions
It's late and I'm tired but I want to get this down while it's still fresh on my mind.
I'm listening to Uncle Tupelo's "Anodyne" - one of the 10 albums I would want with me if I was marooned on an island in the Pacific. It's a classic, for me, that I've probably listened to 1,000 times.
Tonight is the first night (at our house) since J.P. moved into his own room that he hasn't slept in his baby bed. Initially, it was a crib, and it seems like only yesterday we converted it to a toddler bed. He was so excited the Sunday afternoon we took the rails off the crib and lowered the mattress for him. His "big boy bed," we called it. In my mind's eye, I can see him getting in and out of the bed, all my himself, smiling in wonderment at his newfound freedom and independence. Jude and I smiled back at him.
Today, our handyman - Nathan - converted the toddler bed back into a crib and set it up for us in the nook upstairs, which is going to be the nursery for our baby. J.P.'s real "big boy bed" - a single bed, box springs and mattress I purchased over the weekend - is set to arrive Thursday. Tonight and for the next couple of nights, he's sleeping on the futon mattress, which we placed on the floor in his bedroom. Initially, he was excited about it, but it took a little coaxing for him to get comfortable as I laid down next to him and told him a story at bedtime.
Again, it's hard to put into words how I feel. Nostalgic for certain and a little bit sad. Proud, too. I can't help but feel he lost a little innocence tonight, when laid down to sleep on a relatively large mattress with no rails to protect him from the outside world (realizing, of course, I mean figuratively and not literally). His baby bad, or toddler bed, was so safe - smaller, filled with a couple of small blankets and his "lovies" (stuffed animals), surrounded by rails on 3 sides. It also was a connection to when he was an infant. The same baby bed, just configured differently. The same bed, though.
It's going to be weird, in a minute, when I go upstairs (as I do every night) to check on him. I'll slip quietly into J.P.'s bedroom, cover him up and quietly say a prayer as I gaze down at him. My son. My perfect, innocent and lovely son.
The nursery for "the player to be named later." He's coming soon, very soon, to a theatre near you (and me).
I'm listening to Uncle Tupelo's "Anodyne" - one of the 10 albums I would want with me if I was marooned on an island in the Pacific. It's a classic, for me, that I've probably listened to 1,000 times.
Tonight is the first night (at our house) since J.P. moved into his own room that he hasn't slept in his baby bed. Initially, it was a crib, and it seems like only yesterday we converted it to a toddler bed. He was so excited the Sunday afternoon we took the rails off the crib and lowered the mattress for him. His "big boy bed," we called it. In my mind's eye, I can see him getting in and out of the bed, all my himself, smiling in wonderment at his newfound freedom and independence. Jude and I smiled back at him.
Today, our handyman - Nathan - converted the toddler bed back into a crib and set it up for us in the nook upstairs, which is going to be the nursery for our baby. J.P.'s real "big boy bed" - a single bed, box springs and mattress I purchased over the weekend - is set to arrive Thursday. Tonight and for the next couple of nights, he's sleeping on the futon mattress, which we placed on the floor in his bedroom. Initially, he was excited about it, but it took a little coaxing for him to get comfortable as I laid down next to him and told him a story at bedtime.
Again, it's hard to put into words how I feel. Nostalgic for certain and a little bit sad. Proud, too. I can't help but feel he lost a little innocence tonight, when laid down to sleep on a relatively large mattress with no rails to protect him from the outside world (realizing, of course, I mean figuratively and not literally). His baby bad, or toddler bed, was so safe - smaller, filled with a couple of small blankets and his "lovies" (stuffed animals), surrounded by rails on 3 sides. It also was a connection to when he was an infant. The same baby bed, just configured differently. The same bed, though.
It's going to be weird, in a minute, when I go upstairs (as I do every night) to check on him. I'll slip quietly into J.P.'s bedroom, cover him up and quietly say a prayer as I gaze down at him. My son. My perfect, innocent and lovely son.
The nursery for "the player to be named later." He's coming soon, very soon, to a theatre near you (and me).
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Counting Down the Days
It's almost 9 a.m. on a Wednesday morning. I'm feeling a little contemplative, as I sit at "J.P.'s table" in the back room at Bongo Java and give serious consideration to taking a "mental health day" off work. Looking to my left, I look out the window at the cars in the back parking lot, the nearby houses and the students hurrying to class. There's standing water in the alley after a night of rain (J.P. and I have been known to drive through the puddles in the alley again and again, laughing as we splash the water up on both sides of my truck, after a good rain).
A couple of days ago, Jude remarked that we're exactly 6 weeks from the birth of our second son, Diesel Leonidas Newman (joking . . . maybe). In some ways, we have vacillated back and forth between taking a laid back approach in our preparations (i.e. doing very little) and sticking our heads in the sand, ostrich style (i.e. doing very little). Reality set in as Jude decided it was time to do some serious nesting.
Over the weekend, we made some decisions on how we're going to set the house up (for 2 children), with a key assist from our friend and interior decorator extraordinairre, Charly Roos. We also selected a new bed for J.P. (we're planning on converting his "toddler bed" back into a crib) and a chest of drawers. J.P. is going to stay in his bedroom and we're going to convert the nook to a nursery of sorts. Over the weekend, I borrowed a pick-up truck and removed the old desk and chair from the office. Our plan is for the office to be a playroom, where we'll put J.P.'s train table, toys, books, etc.
We've got plan, at least, which gives Jude a sense of security that we'll be ready when the baby arrives. Last night, Jude made a list, day by day, of what we need to accomplish. That's good for me, because I generally work better from lists, as opposed to haphazardly bouncing from one task to another.
Beginning this week, Jude goes to Baptist Hospital every Monday morning for an "NST" (non-stress test). After our son's heartbeat is monitored for 30 minutes straight and results are transmitted to our doctor's office, Jude is free to go if everything looks (and sounds) good. Every other week, she leaves Baptist Hospital and goes straight to our doctor's office for a quick visit. Every Thursday, starting tomorrow, she'll have an ultrasound. The extra attention is due to Jude's age, not any particular problem that has deveolped.
I've decided J.P. is nesting, too. Sunday, at Church, I looked over and as he sat between Jude and me, he was lightly rubbing Jude's stomach with his hand while he listened (or appeared to listen) to our priest, Father David Perkin, give the homily. It was a pretty special moment.
A couple of days ago, Jude remarked that we're exactly 6 weeks from the birth of our second son, Diesel Leonidas Newman (joking . . . maybe). In some ways, we have vacillated back and forth between taking a laid back approach in our preparations (i.e. doing very little) and sticking our heads in the sand, ostrich style (i.e. doing very little). Reality set in as Jude decided it was time to do some serious nesting.
Over the weekend, we made some decisions on how we're going to set the house up (for 2 children), with a key assist from our friend and interior decorator extraordinairre, Charly Roos. We also selected a new bed for J.P. (we're planning on converting his "toddler bed" back into a crib) and a chest of drawers. J.P. is going to stay in his bedroom and we're going to convert the nook to a nursery of sorts. Over the weekend, I borrowed a pick-up truck and removed the old desk and chair from the office. Our plan is for the office to be a playroom, where we'll put J.P.'s train table, toys, books, etc.
We've got plan, at least, which gives Jude a sense of security that we'll be ready when the baby arrives. Last night, Jude made a list, day by day, of what we need to accomplish. That's good for me, because I generally work better from lists, as opposed to haphazardly bouncing from one task to another.
Beginning this week, Jude goes to Baptist Hospital every Monday morning for an "NST" (non-stress test). After our son's heartbeat is monitored for 30 minutes straight and results are transmitted to our doctor's office, Jude is free to go if everything looks (and sounds) good. Every other week, she leaves Baptist Hospital and goes straight to our doctor's office for a quick visit. Every Thursday, starting tomorrow, she'll have an ultrasound. The extra attention is due to Jude's age, not any particular problem that has deveolped.
I've decided J.P. is nesting, too. Sunday, at Church, I looked over and as he sat between Jude and me, he was lightly rubbing Jude's stomach with his hand while he listened (or appeared to listen) to our priest, Father David Perkin, give the homily. It was a pretty special moment.
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