Can't get enough of your love

I just told Rich, "I want a bowl of cereal but don't want to put the baby down." So he got me a bowl of Corn Pops so I could rest it on Ian's belly and eat it from there. Last week Rich asked, "I wonder when the baby will be happy sleeping on his own and not want to be held" and I replied, "Why would we want to put him down?"

I've learned how to type, check my blood sugar, make a sandwich and use the bathroom (that one takes talent) all while holding Ian or nursing him. My biggest time away from him since we got home was going to the post office to buy stamps.

When I was about 39 weeks pregnant I was in the pet store buying dog food. The woman in front of me asked when I was due and after I told her she paused and said, "are you happy being pregnant?". I wasn't really sure how to respond to that but told her that my pregnancy was pretty easy and I wasn't one of those women anxious to get him out of me as soon as possible. I just wanted him to come on his own terms.

She said her baby was a year old now and that she cried the whole last week of her pregnancy because she loved being pregnant and having him in her belly with her all the time. She just wanted to freeze time and not lose any of those feelings. She said it's still good now that he's a year old but he's much more independent and active and ... active ... and part of her misses just having him to cuddle. And then it was time for her to check out with her kitty litter and she wished me luck and was gone.

Now I'm going through those same feelings. He's getting a little heavier and his diapers need loosening a bit to make room for all this extra baby and I'm digging in my heels at the passage of time, as futile as that is. It's only been 15 days but I can't imagine him not being here and it seems like he's been a part of us forever. He was all mine on the inside and now he's out here in the world and I have to share him with other people. More than that, if he's not around, I'm incredibly lonely. He goes with me everywhere. He's helped fix his grandaddy's computer, visited several area restaurants and even had his first therapy appointment this week.

And I'm sure at some point he'll want to stay home or be embarrassed to be seen with his mother. At some point before that I imagine I'll be desperate to get away from him for even just an hour. But right now, I can't get enough of him.

We're off to bed soon to snuggle and snack, so I'll leave you with a rare photo of me allowing someone else to hold him. He and Rich are my two favorite things in the world, so this photo is pretty much all I need.

Two weeks postpartum report

This is what I look like two weeks after pushing a baby out.

Really, I can't complain. My belly appears a lot flatter than that normally because I've found I actually tighten my stomach muscles most of the time without thinking about it. This picture was in the middle of me telling Rich, "this is me not sucking in at all." And with my rack having doubled in size, I'm easily passing that test of my belly not protruding further than my boobs do.

I'm pretty active most days, though I think today was my body playing catch up from the previous week. I slept from 7:30pm last night until 11:30am today, waking up only long enough to feed the boy and never leaving the bed except to pee a few times. I think I needed that.

My crotch still aches but it's pretty manageable with Motrin throughout the day. I have to remind myself to give things more time to heal. Oh, and I should just remove the hand mirrors from the bathrooms until another month from now. I'm worrying that everything is going to heal back where it should but staring at it isn't going to make it heal faster or better. We'll just cross that gynecological bridge when we get there.

I never really realized how much my breasts were going to take on a life of their own. When I go do my doctor's appointment I expect them to ask about me, my baby and my breasts to make sure all of us are doing okay. Since the baby and I seem to be doing pretty well, all things considered, my breasts really are the only thing that could be considered temperamental from day to day or hour to hour. But you really can't beat this whole "I can make food at a moment's notice" thing. It really saves on space in the diaper bag.

I'm happy to report the modified bassinet is working well. I still may want to raise it another two inches or so, but it's worlds better than the original.

I've only had a few weepy moments here and there and they were short-lived. Most of those could be attributed to fatigue. But I just can't say enough how much physical contact with the baby makes that easier. Holding him is better than Prozac.

We'll see how I fare next week once Rich is back in the office. But I'm hoping some structure and a few simple outings will keep me from going stir crazy. If nothing else, I have a blog post each day to compose.

Never think we chose your name lightly

Dear Ian, We actually chose your middle name first. Your father and I had gone back and forth about using family names versus unique names, with his family tending to throw all the relatives' names in a hat and choose from that versus ours trying to find new ones.

Jacob was a good middle name for us to choose for you. I've always liked the name, having only known one Jacob in high school and he seemed like a nice guy. It's your uncle Lee's middle name. It was your great uncle Jay's name as well as your great-grandfather's name.

Having started with that, it helped us narrow down a first name that went well with Jacob. Your Grandaddy Powell thought that having a middle name of Jacob really limited the choices for a first name. This is the same man, though, who was picking names like Ebert, Barry and Alvin as your first name so let's take that with a grain of salt. Grandaddy Powell even filibustered at length in the hospital waiting room about how awful Jacob is as a middle name, undaunted by your Uncle Lee telling him that was his middle name. You'll get used to things like that from your grandaddy.

We thought about Bruce after Bruce Campbell, but didn't want to give you the initials BJ. When you're a little bit older, you'll understand why that's funny. I wanted to name you Warren after Warren Ellis but after saying it several times it didn't seem to go well with our last name.

Felix was a contender (after Felix Unger) for a while but never really stuck. I also petitioned hard for Finley but for some reason your father was against the name Finn as a nickname. Nolan was in the short list for a bit but never really wowed us.

The short list of names as we headed to the hospital was Sam, Henry or Ian.

Sam could have been short for Samuel or Samson. I liked Samson better but combined with the S in Stryker it was just out of control. And it didn't seem fair to give you a standard nickname that everyone would assume was short for Samuel and have it be short for something much less common (see people named Sam that's short for Samwise). Samuel gained popularity with the badassness that is Samuel L Jackson. But as we kept saying Sam Stryker over and over, it sounded more and more like a comic book character's alter ego (Peter Parker, Lois Lane, Bruce Banner, Clark Kent ... you get the idea).

I really wanted to name you Henry. As we headed to the hospital, I was nearly convinced that's the name we would be coming home with. As I was getting my nails done during early labor, my nail tech even said as much. But again, we were more in love with the nickname than the name. I wanted to name you Henry after Henry Rollins. Unfortunately, Mr. Rollins is really the only Henry that fits that image and he's not the first Henry that folks think of. We both liked the nickname of Hank, though, and Hank Stryker sounded like a fine dude to hang out with. Think of all the other fine Hanks in the world. Hank Williams, Hank Azaria, Hank McCoy (Beast from the X-Men). But then there is Hank Hill from King of the Hill and while lying in the hospital recovering from having you, that TV show came on the air and Henry/Hank was no longer in the running.

So that left Ian. It's not crazy common, but it's not like naming you Jayvion (ranked 977 on the Social Security web site of names for 2008). There are also many fine Ians out there. Ian MacKaye is the lead singer for Fugazi (and best friends with Henry Rollins). Ian McKellen was Gandolf the White in the Lord of the Rings. Ian Fleming wrote all the James Bond novels.

And then there was one of the few Ians I knew personally. Ian was the first boy who ever asked me to be his girlfriend. We were in the 8th grade. He actually wrote out the question on a piece of paper decorated with drawings of the Giger's alien and those little green planets from the cover of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. He wrote the note and had his best friend Richard hand it to me after science class.

But if you think your mother is an overthinker and worrier now, you should have seen me at age 12. I carried that note around for two days worrying over what I should say. I really liked Ian but I'd never had a boyfriend before and wasn't sure what all the serious implications would be. So I told him no but that I'd still like to be his friend. And unwittingly at only 12 years old, I broke a boy's heart. I've regretted it ever since.

Ian and I did remain friends for years. He bought me my first Dead Milkmen tape for my birthday. He still drew lots of pictures for me. He eventually went on to art school after high school, but I lost track of him after that.

So while you're not named after any of those Ians in particular, you are certainly in good company. And I'll be there when your heart gets broken. And if you become famous, I'll always be your first fan.

Love, Momma