Kelley lives joyously with her Sweet Pea and husband in northern Pennsylvania after surviving preeclampsia and sixty-seven days in a NICU. She hopes to one day be living totally sustainably and cruelty-free while teaching yoga somewhere warm. She loves nursing her baby, the Roomba vacuum cleaner, being an Obamamama, and rocking totally impractical shoes. Her infrequent blogs about life after a NICU are posted at www.petergwydion.com.
It’s 3 in the afternoon on a Friday. I’m tapping away on the laptop while fourteen-month-old Sweet Pea is sleeping in his sling on my chest. As I idly kiss his head, I notice that he feels a bit warm. Taking a break from reading my very important, up-to-date, tres cool websites on sustainable living (okay, I was probably checking Facebook for the fourth time that day), I look down at him. His cheeks are rosy. There are little beads of sweat on his hairline. I fetch the thermometer, and wiggle it underneath of Sweet Pea’s arm without disturbing him. The numbers climb rapidly. 96.5. 97.9. 99.0. It beeps, and confirms my suspicion: 99.4. We are officially, on a Friday afternoon, experiencing our first fever together.
I call our pediatrician and secure an appointment at 4:45, the last appointment of the day. At the office, I snuggle Sweet Pea into the sling in the waiting room. He’s quite hot, and looking somewhat glazed. Nonetheless, I’m shocked when they take his temperature again and it’s hit 103. I am desperate, having NICU flashbacks and feeling like a horrible mother. The nurse, staring accusingly, says, “Did you give him Tylenol?!” Continue reading “Close Enough for Comfort”
Whenever I pack our diaper bag, I include only necessities: two or three diapers, the changing pad, a handful of wipes, and a small notepad and pen. The notepad is a new inclusion, and is totally necessary. Anytime I forget it, I totally regret it. Why? Because every single time I snuggle Sweet Pea into his Moby Wrap at the store, or the park, or the university where Daddy teaches, someone says, “Wow, where’d you get that? My sister/my friend/my daughter could really use one!” This conversation though, is where my dilemma begins, because I am SO SOLD on the benefits of attachment parenting. Continue reading “AP Ambassador”
While I was doing my grocery shopping the other day with Sweet Pea snuggled on my chest in the wrap, I passed another momma with a child who was probably about three. When we first crossed paths, she was telling him, “No, you can’t have cookies.” When he pushed the issue, she said, “There’s cookies at home!” Our families ran into each other (once literally, since my cart had a broken wheel) about four times over the next hour as we stocked up on yummy things to eat. Three out of those four times, she was telling her son “no” about something.
My intention isn’t to criticize her parenting, or the use of the word “no” in general. She was using it to set boundaries, some of which were specifically to keep her son safe (“No, you can’t ride on the side of the cart.”). It did reinforce for me, though, how important I think it is to not overuse the word “no.” Continue reading “No “No””
I will admit to being extremely susceptible to all types of marketing.Cell phone camera doesn’t have a flash!Hair dye has glimmering highlights!Chicken at the farmers’ market is locally sourced and fed an organic vegetarian diet!Statements like these make me forget so, so easily that I don’t take pictures with my cell phone (except for when the baby or kitten’s momentary cuteness needs to be captured for posterity), that I don’t want to dye my hair while I’m nursing, and that like my feathered friends, I’m a vegetarian.With my incapability to resist ads in mind, it is remarkable that we have yet to buy the majority of the products that have been marketed to us as not only convenient, but totally necessary and also capable of turning us into the Swedish supermodel parents Sweet Pea deserves. Continue reading “The Right Stuff”
When my son, my husband and I came home from the hospital, my husband had to make an emergency run to get the foul-tasting supplement Poly Vi Sol, as well as a canister of formula.What business do I have on API Speaks?My son, Peter Gwydion, was born at 28 weeks gestation due to my developing severe preeclampsia.Instead of a third trimester filled with belly casts and pregnancy photos that ended with a beautiful homebirth, we spent two months living in an apartment an hour and a half away from our home while Gwyn worked hard in the NICU.