Confidence...

If you ask someone who knows me, they would likely tell you that I am a confident, successful woman. If you ask close family, they would tell you the same unless you specifically asked about physical beauty or something.  Which I hope you wouldn't because that would be odd. But if you ask me, you would likely be stuck listening to a stream of conscious answer about how I am confident but I'm not when it comes to this or that. But, really, I am. And the one way conversation would continue until you got up and left, but don't worry. I wouldn't stop telling my story. Likely, my hands would be moving so fast because I am a gesture talker and nowadays my eyes would be glued to Shy so I wouldn't even know you left.

I finally finished maternity and returned to work. It's been much better than expected, but it's not easy.  I struggle daily wondering if I made the right decision. I cannot even tell you how many times I sit in my office, mindlessly returning work-related emails wondering how this can be considered reason to leave Shyam. And then I think about quitting and all of a sudden, I am filled with the guilt of leaving a well paying, secure job AFTER having a baby (and lusting after having three more). There is no right answer as I have been told numerous times. I think the key is to be confident in the route you choose.  So I am confidently ending this saga-related post and giving you a glimpse into what we have been up to during Shyam's first summer!

Shyam at 4 months old!

Gosh, where do I start. Well, first of all, we had a huge breakthrough. Shy no longer hates baths! And you will never guess what turned the tables. The pool!  That morning, we gave him a bath and he wailed. So much that my mom came upstairs wondering what we were doing to her grandchild. And for some reason, later that day, S and I decided it would be wise to put this bath-hating baby in the world's biggest bath. Don't ask us why. But thank goodness we did. He loved it! Maybe it's because it was cooler water. Or outside where there was lots to distract him.  Or because daddy was holding him.  I don't know, but the next day, we gave him a bath and the world was right side up again. Hallelujah!

Since we last talked, Shy has become a master roller. He is all sorts of mobile these days, scooting around.  Like last night when he tried to get into his super high cobra stretch. Underneath the couch.  Suffice it to say there was some complaining when I found him. My parents have since come and gone, helping me transition from my awesome stay-at-home gig to my less-than-awesome return to work (a job that I love, by the way). While my parents were here, we packed up the entire Patel clan and headed to New York City for the 4th of July. We may have been the only people in all of NYC who had a baby out at 10PM.  He's quite the trooper. And for the record, he did fine and bounced back to schedule after a day or two.

Shy's eating solids now! And I haven't given up my cloth diapers either. You know how much I love my cloth. And surprisingly, poop isn't really that bad.

But, mostly, he's just getting bigger and becoming more active. He loves to talk and babble, just like his parents. And he's much more opinionated.  Don't think one toy will keep him entertained for a full ten minutes like it used to.  He will grab it from you and throw it down. And he's so strong! He has started to pick things up. Like our glasses from the dining table. And of course, with the rolling came the love of his tummy. We know he's going to sleep for hours when we lay him down and he immediately flips over. He's a tummy sleeper, no matter what I do!

In the end, I am confident in my ability to gauge the day by day. I know regardless of what I do, there will always be guilt and I have come to accept this. I think it's really a guilt we put on ourselves because certainly no one makes me feel inadequate. But, deep down, I know the most important thing is Shyam is loved, happy, and cared for. And I appreciate every darn minute I can squeeze from my day when it is spent with him. I mean, look at that smile!

Seasons...

Shy's changing and I find myself trying to keep up with his likes and dislikes.  His sleeping habits.  And whether "those" milestones have been met.  The magic other parents say happens at "exactly three months" has yet to grace my living room, but alas, I do still have patience…

My sweet cuddler seriously dislikes tummy time and bath time but loves a little bicycle leg, the corner of our living room, and S's Michigan flag.  Yes, you read that right.  The Michigan brainwashing has already begun.  And S wasn't even trying. Meanwhile, I keep forcing encouraging Shy to play with the multitude of toys accumulating in our house, and he continues to stare at the corner. It's therapeutic and that makes even me love his corner. We have no idea what is there, but we aren't stupid. That corner gets plenty of staring. We aren't afraid of the corner.  The corner has no idea how much we bow to its magical healing powers.  

As for me, I'm going bonkers with the stubborn seasons this year.  If only spring would follow the lead of winter and stay extra long.  A girl can hope, right? I keep dreaming of all the wonderful things we'll do - museums, walks, runs, shopping.  Just as soon as the snow disappears and the temperature tops 70.  And ooooh.  Maybe even sign up for a stroller-friendly race or two.  Gosh.  Writing it down makes me giddy with excitement.  And yearn for the sun to join us and bully winter to the other side of the world.  

I guess until the weather meets my strict requirements, I shall continue my online search party for cute little diapers to wrap around Shy's bum. YAY!

Is it wrong...

to be excited about new diapers?

It feels wrong.  And a bit … pathetic.

Alas, this is who I am.  Self-deprecating, pathetic me. And new owner of this adorable wool cover and bamboo fitted.  Handmade by Creakingwood on Etsy.

And it is feel good.  You know.  Small businesses and all.

Wooly Bottoms...

I promised a pic so here it is! In a newborn Disana's wool pull on cover with a size small Green Mountain Diaper workhorse underneath. And an Ewok hat!

Oh and update:  In case anyone is wondering, that is.  We are pain free!  Yes, I now love nursing as much as every breastfeeding woman. Finally. I mean, I always loved feeding Shy, but when you are in unimaginable, never-ending pain, it's tough to really enjoy it.  And now I do.  I SO do.  It was totally worth the 10 weeks of … ugh… I don't even want to try to describe it.  It was just totally worth it.  Plus, if there are two things I should pass on, Shy got them both.  My ability to sleep (thanks Dad!) and my immunity (thanks breastmilk antibodies!).

Okay, I am sold...

On cloth diapers that is.  It didn't take much convincing as to the benefits.  And yes, in my opinion, the benefits do outweigh the environmental impact.  Despite what your colleague may or may not say with words.  In my short few months of using cloth diapers, I have already had way too many people ask if I have considered that it wastes more water, electricity, etc.  That it isn't THAT much better than disposables. And that I won't be able to keep up with it once I go back to work.  And all I have to say in response is each person has to decide what is best for him or herself.  Whether that's plastic grocery bags (which I stopped using), plastic trash bags (which will be the day if I ever stop using), or disposable diapers.  For me, sending all that pee-drenched plastic to the landfills is much worse than the water I use to do extra rinses on my cloth diapers. I don't judge those who use disposables, and I totally understand why one does.  Gosh.  Stinky poo in your washing machine?  Dunking diapers in a toilet? No thanks. Going green in the world of babies is an overwhelming decision. At first.  And then you do it and wonder why in the world you were so overwhelmed.  It's not that bad and kind of addictive. And there is a method that works for everyone.  Like there will be no such thing as dunking in any toilet in this home.  Drops of toilet airborne? Bleh.  But I have turned that corner and now find myself Googling "natural fiber cloth diapers" instead of buying a new book (which I miss doing). It's like mama-crack.  Anyway, I digress.

My entire reason for bringing out the computer is two fold:  1) I finally got Shy to sleep.  And not in my arms. and 2) To share these adorable pictures of fluffy bottoms.

Like most first time cloth diapering parents, I stuck to the whole "stay dry" materials like the stay dry-lined microfiber inside the bumGenius Freetimes (top).  I even had a close friend tell me all about the synthetic vs natural fabrics, but I don't think I quite got it back then.  Recall the "overwhelmed" part above.  And stupid me thought all fleece was made from cotton but most is made from polyester like the inside of my Nicki's diaper, which I love anyway and makes me feel like I am wrapping Shy's bottom in a wonderful blanket.  Natural or not. Plus, there are lots of good reasons to have these in your stash.  So no regrets there!

Now that I am way more relaxed and using diapers is just like…well using diapers, I love being able to explore other options.  So I just got my first two fitteds from Green Mountain Diapers and my wool cover from Nicki's.  And I cannot wait to try it out on Shy's cute little bum. YAY!  Don't worry. I'll post another picture.

Grunts and Cuddles...

Shy's such a character.  I love getting to know him.  From the red-face only gas can cause to the milk-coma induced cuddling I get at least eight times a day. And he's started to laugh.  Like a real, albeit silent, social laugh.  His big Indian eyes continually search for light, even when the lights are off.  And the only reason he ever cries is hunger.  Forget dirty diapers-this boy cares not one bit if he is sitting in his own poo.

Shyam at 5 weeks old

In other baby news, we survived our first night without dad!  Srin's in California on a work trip, and Shy decided to pay him back by sleeping the longest stretch he has ever slept.  6 hours!  But I don't expect that to repeat because if I learned one thing, it's not to get used to any milestones too fast.  They are ever changing!  So I took my 6 hours of sleep with a grain of salt and woke up in an awesome, rested mood.  I thought Shy would be more awake today as a result, but I guess sleep begets sleep!  Or maybe he will repeat the hour before he fell slept last night and be more awake than ever while I resist falling asleep before him.  We shall see…

Shyam turns 8 weeks old tomorrow, and I cannot help but think that I would never be ready to go back to work in a few weeks.  Thank goodness I am staying home for 6 months.  In these moments, I always think of my good friend Reyes who once told me, well before Shy came along, that every woman has to make the best decision for herself and she shouldn't feel bad whatever that plan is.  Here here, Reyes!

Shyam at 7 weeks

The long awaited arrival...

It's a boy!

As the trite sayings often describe the arrival of a new baby, this is the most rewarding thing I have ever done.  But, it is also one of the most trying and difficult things.  And I send rockets into space.  And keep them safe.  All from Earth.  An entire 256 vertical miles and thick atmosphere away.  Yet, this is the biggest challenge I have had, testing my resolve and perseverance.  My will to succeed.

To be honest, all of the things that I think others find tough have not been that bad.  Lack of sleep.  Fussiness.  Living in a cycle that repeats every two hours.  Yes, at 2 in the morning and on no sleep, sometimes those things have gotten to me.  Admittedly.

However, what's been my true test is breastfeeding.  I assumed that nursing would be a natural instinct for both mom and baby.  That there was no learned technique.  Pain didn't even cross my measly mind. Being horribly unprepared for it made it worse.  Unlike childbirth, which I was quite mentally prepared for.  That was easy. Yes, I just said that.  Easy.  There was a defined end. I knew the baby had to come out of me, one way or the other.  But the nursing pain-that had seemingly no end.   Until recently.

We've reached out for help and received some great tips for successful breastfeeding.  My sister, D, was my inspiration, having nursed both of her kids for an entire year.  And now she's my rock. Constantly replying to my million texts.  Listening to my boundless complaints.  While I am not there yet, I can now see light.  We've made leaps and bounds of progress, and with breastfeeding as one of the parenting decisions I refuse to compromise, I'm thankful for the many people who have helped along the way.  With personal stories of struggles.  And the many meals I didn't have to cook myself (thanks P and my mother-in-law).  Not to mention the natural parenting skills no one knew Srin had!  Soothing. Loving. And always willing to help.

Shyam turns one month old tomorrow, and I love him.  I love watching him feed.  I love when he gives me the stink eye that tells me I waited too long to feed him.  It shows personality. I love that he's more active, observing the world around him.  Firing those many synapses. Committing the world around him to memory.  I love seeing him progress from the fetal position to stretched out.  I love his pout.  And I love that he is consolable. Rarely have we witnessed a cry that couldn't be soothed.  And I still have trouble believing I put him in this world.  Me.  He came from me.  That is a concept I wonder if I will ever truly comprehend.

 Our first family picture!

Fatherhood suits him well!

Let it snow!

I've never been a cold kind of person.  In fact, suffice it to say I turn into a whiny baby when the temperature dips below 70.  But, this year, I am so excited.  Winter means I am mere moments away from the best thing that has ever happened to me.  And to think, this year started out with me planning to be an astronaut.  Sometimes I wonder how life's undulating road decides where to turn and when to remain straight.  However life goes, I am so thankful that mine has led me on the path of motherhood.

And on a path to a new camera and a husband willing to try his hand at it because I refuse to pay $200+ for maternity shots.  Not including the digital images, no less!

A new toy...

I got a new camera this week! And I couldn't be more excited.  These days, it's the first thing I have really thought of that isn't baby-related. All thanks to a great husband and a fabulous birthday this year.  It's the Nikon D3200, a decision we only made after consulting our favorite camera guru Catherine.

It is absolutely ludicrous to my shrinking brain that I am already 36 weeks along.  Baby is thus far healthy and growing right on target.  In true M-stream-of-conciousness, I recall saying many times in the doctor's office, "Gosh.  I have never been so happy to hear my baby is average."  Average is good.  Average is the majority of babies.  And the majority are healthy and happy.

Light...Tunnel...Action!

Well, I am 30 weeks pregnant now!  I'm not sure why, but the number 30 must hold some subconscious meaning for me.  I always said that when my baby brother turned 30, then I would feel like we were all adults.  All old, really.  When I turned 30, it wasn't a big deal, but I definitely felt something that made me even write a post about it.  And now, I have been waiting for this day when I could say I was 30 weeks pregnant.  It feels more real.  The baby moves so much, and I am getting used to feeling it whenever I want.  That moment of comfort, knowing he or she is safe and warm and content.  It is so much better than the early weeks when anxiety, doubt, and fear dominate the pregnancy.  Now I battle the desire for the baby to stay inside me as long as needed but to come out so I can finally meet him or her!  It's okay-we struck a deal.  The baby is not allowed out for another 6.5 weeks when he or she is full term!  I felt a kick and took that as a handshake.

Srin took a few quick iSnaps of my 30 week belly among the leaves and trees.  The red.  Orange. And yellow. It feels like Fall here in the nation's capital.  It's crisp and clear, with sunny skies but chilly temperatures.  Pumpkins line the neighborhood with the occasional scarecrow, spider web, and ghost in the tree.  Friends' are posting pictures of their kids in costumes, and the eerie excitement of Halloween is most definitely in the air.  

I feel mostly ready for this baby to greet the world.  With our baby shower last weekend, everything I absolutely need is in order with only a few to-do items left.  I guess they call this nesting.  Whatever it is, I like it.  It's so cute to see the itty bitty newborn diapers.  And tiny socks.  Don't get me started on the cloth diapers.  I just got my first batch yesterday from Nicki's Diapers and Cottonbabies.  I'll be trying out Nicki's one size pockets and BumGenius's Freetime all in ones first.  It's funny how overwhelmed I was even thinking of cloth diapering and now look at me.  Talkin' all pockets and such.  That's growth I tell you.

The baby shower was a blast with my family making the hike over East to celebrate the impending arrival of Baby Nagaraja.  Friends and family.  Everyone knows that's all I really need in life.

Halftime!

Well, it's difficult to imagine for me. More than halfway through nourishing this little sweet pea inside me.  He/She is already so very cute, according to a very biased opinion of ultrasound pictures. We are starting week 23 which means I am in the end of my second trimester. Already!  It's flying by me, and I have taken it quite slowly. Cherishing every nudge. Little punch. Hiccups. And fluttery movements. Yes, they finally felt a bit like that flutteriness so many other moms describe. I laid in bed yesterday before work for an extra ten minutes just to spend time with him/her. The baby was so active (help! morning baby?!?!?), and those ten minutes were completely worth being late to work.

I can't wait to meet this baby. Sleepless nights and tough mornings welcome. I know that sounds crazy, and all of you parents have that slight knowing smile as you read this.  But, for me, I have waited for more than a decade to have a family. Quite a surprise given that at 16, I had mapped out my life.  Married at 22 after college. First kid at 24, next at 26, then at 28, and done by 30. 4 kids. 2 boys and 2 girls. Order irrelevant.

I'm 33 now. You can do the math. Sometimes life takes over and plans are a-washed. And thank goodness too. Those years of my life were incredible. Ones I would not have likely been able to do in the way I did if a family was part of my life. And now I get the best of both worlds. I am simply overjoyed at this experience.

I must be that pregnant woman other pregnant women hate. No morning sickness. Little aches and pains. Trouble gaining weight (baby is right on target though!). Still exercising. Hardly any mood swings. And absolutely in love with being pregnant. It's been one of the most incredible journeys. One I imagined time and again for years, patiently waiting for the moment to surprise me. Okay. Not patiently. Per se.

And to top off the experience, Srin's been great. Somehow he's balanced being protective with dealing with my adamant need for independence. And I love when I wake up to a crazy Indian boy nuzzling my belly. He loves this baby so much, and he is exhibiting the perfect balance of involved dad and letting me handle the small things (like diaper choices).

Sometimes I wonder what I did right in life to deserve this happiness. For now, I'm basking in the bubble in which I live these days. A serene bubble. Comforted by low stress. And a content home.

Photo credit:  JC Penney

Muscle Twitches...

I felt them!  I finally felt the tiny little bursts of energy.  Collisions with my uterus wall.  Those things other moms describe as flutters or hiccups.  Or popcorn popping.  I describe them like muscle twitches. You know, when your eye starts pulsing and you are fairly certain everyone can see it dancing madly on your face.  Just like that.  But more random. Less consistent.  And way more exciting!

WAH-POW!

Just felt my little one again.  I'm 19 weeks and 5 days, and I promised myself I would track the big moments.  And this feels gargantuan.

I just hope it isn't gas or something embarrassing.

Moments...

I've always wished for this time in my life.  Prayed even.  Pondered, wondered, and often gotten so lost in my imagination that the line between it and reality was criss-crossed.  Dotted.  Maybe even peeling away.  And, finally, without struggle and with good fortune, I am carrying my first child.

YAY!

I cannot believe how time has passed by me.  We found out on Mother's Day, unplanned and as a result of my adamant desire to answer the burning question I had formulated in my head: Am I pregnant?  It was something I least expected, seeing as how I was in training for a marathon.  I had noticed changes, which I had attributed to being way out of shape.  Like a racing heart of 90 bpm, a far cry from my normal 45-50 bpm.  It was a question I only let myself ask after days of wondering if I was facing my first health issue.  You know, going to the bathroom more often and falling asleep at 7PM. These are abnormal for an energetic girl like me with the uncanny ability to make it across Texas without a restroom break.  But, alas, the day I dreamed about was the best surprise I have ever received. Eighteen weeks into the undulating experience, I don't know if I would have wanted the moment to present itself any other way.

I put aside all scenarios I had conjured earlier of surprising Srin with the potential news and demanded a trip to Target after his parents left. I think his immediate reaction was "Do you really think you could be pregnant?"  And after we found out, "You said this would take 6 months or a year even." And I swear it was followed by "drama queen", which I wouldn't even deny in that moment.  But in reality, he followed it up with a big ol' kiss and a huge smile.

That's the advantage of waiting until you're in your thirties to have a family.  There's hardly any trepidation, save for the lack of sleep everyone complains about.  And there's a palpable excitement.  A time in our lives we are very much ready for.  Maybe not on paper.  But most definitely ready for.

Best Email Chains...

You know something is funny when you laugh out loud or, in my case, spew mango pieces all over your new Mac.  Either way, both are great signs that something is funny.  But, you know something is hilarious if the moment unexpectedly creeps into your mind hours later, and you start laughing uncontrollably.  Sort of like how babies or toddlers do.  Like my niece, K, here:

Let me indulge.

My brother sent an email to us that had an eBay item he was "watching" and he asked if we could pick it up for him if he put a bid on it.  After all, "mom and dad were looking for a freezer".

So I send an email that says "You must be kidding.  It's huge!" to which my older (more sarcastic) sister replies "M-It's a freezer for BODIES.  We are not buying it!".

Naturally, I was so confused.  Upon reviewing the eBay listing, I realized I read "Morgue Refrigerator" to be the brand name!

So that led the email chain to what "idiot businessman would name his business 'Morgue'".

Ahhh, but we all know there are more stupid business names out there.  Like my example: Amigone Funeral Home.

But Mr. Funny closes the loop with the best example of a business with the most silly name.  Get ready, San Angelo.  I am sure you have eaten at this staple eatery in our dear hometown.

I'm giggling even as I write this.

My first bike ride...

It was loads of fun, riding from Manhattan's Battery Park all the way up through Central Park and Harlem on our way to the Bronx.  And of course, that reminds of me of my dear best friend from San Angelo, Tamara, who was born there.  That sent me on a flurry of childhood memories, of getting to know each other at the ripe age of 12, of arguing over religion, and of a piece of me that I miss more today than I ever have.  From our quick dip into the Bronx, we crossed into Queens on our way to Brooklyn and finally to the killer Verrazano Bridge into Staten Island.  Those who read my blog know that I only learned to ride a bike when I turned 30 so this was my latest challenge. You know-making up for lost time.  It's funny how many things you regret as you get older and how quickly you learn that it's just never too late.

Now, I'm ready to graduate from this 40 mile trek to a century ride.  Where will my bike take me next?

I guess courage comes with perspective...

I've finally mustered up the courage to write this post.  One of disappointment. And deflation.  That of failing.  And dreams not coming true.

But then I learned a life lesson on Monday.  And now the post is about perspective.  You know - hearing of an eight year old boy losing his life because he was merely watching a race can really remind you that your own woes are probably pitiful in comparison.

I heard back from NASA, and unfortunately my bid to soar into space has abruptly come to an end.  No more willing the phone to ring.  Or shamelessly googling home buying in Houston.  It was devastating then.  But now...well, it's a bump in the road.

You see, I have my limbs. The freedom to run.  I won't panic at the sound of a souped up muffler. Or shudder at the vibrations when a train goes by.  I don't have to explain senseless tragedies to young kids. Nor do I know what it is like to lose a child.  So not getting picked to be an astronaut?  If this is how I am punished, I will gladly take it.

And delve into the part of my personality that can always find a silver lining.  As you probably know, I am in my own marathon training mode.  I'm up to 12 miles this weekend, and come the summer solstice, I will be cruising the Alaskan scenery on foot.  Each day I run post Marathon Monday, I've got Boston on my mind.  And in my heart.

I'm strapping on my shoes... well, because I can. And because they can try as they will to bruise the All-American.  But the good will prevail.  And I refuse to live in fear.

To a speedy recovery.  And in their memory.

Vicarious Lessons

It seems these days I post more to Facebook than my blog, violating an unsaid promise I made myself when my brother-in-law signed me up for the seemingly social Mecca of the Internets.  Amid the immediate stress I felt to be more true to myself, I read a post from my close friend Catherine and decided vicarious lessons are the best. So instead of worrying about unwritten (and likely not that interesting) moments, I'm looking ahead.  And most definitely not shamelessly running for the ringing phone hoping it's NASA.  Meanwhile, I figure the new blogging attitude encompasses posting unsuccessful attempts at baking a fairly easy raspberry chocolate cake. It's certainly not as sightly as Giada's version, but it tasted pretty yummy with my substitution of a mildly sweetened mixed berry glaze for frosting.

Ahhh, continued examples of maturity.