Clara Goes Back-to-Belly

This trick is so two weeks ago for our little Clara. We're late to post it, and now our tot is working hard on crawling. Don't hold your breath for that video...she still has a ways to go.

Happy 1st Father's Day

When I fell in love with Paul, I knew he was an amazing man.
I had no idea that he would turn out to be an even more amazing Daddy.
Needless to say, I have fallen in love all over again!

Missing Harley

Harley was a big, dumb dog. Whom we loved.

May 2001 - June 2009.

Thank you Angela for taking such good care of my puppy when I couldn't.

One Year Since Kate's Announcement

Nearly one year ago, I returned from an industry conference in Las Vegas whereupon Kate greeted me with a sheepish grin and a palmful of home pregnancy sticks. One never forgets that parallel blue bars mean "pregnant" and false positives just don't happen.

As I prepare to leave Seattle (same conference), I can't help but reminisce on Kate's surprise and its outcome.

I'll spare most of the details. They are sappy indeed. Suffice it to say that I've been blown away by the range of experiences being first a husband to pregnant Kate, being father to a newborn, and now as dad to a lively, interactive, nearly 4-month old girl.

The pregnancy was exciting but in the most abstract way. My logical mind told me what was coming, but it was difficult making an emotional connection to the fetus developing inside of Kate.

Then Clara grew weary of the womb and decided to take whiff of the antiseptic air of Rex Hospital. Through the birth, my role was to be supportive spouse. I'm not sure I fully appreciated the job description would remain unchanged for the next two or so months of newborn/new family life. They were tough months indeed. In week one, our daughter would cry unconsolably until we figured out how to get enough milk into her belly. The sleep was sporadic, and I never learned to deal well with constant fatigue.

Being a dad was a chore with slim emotional payback. If she wasn't fussing or feeding, she would just stare right through me without even a glimmer of recognition for her attention-starved father.

But Clara crested past the two-month mark, and this new child began to emerge. Her eyes started to focus and engage with our expressions. Her face would contort into the loveliest smile. Her head and arms began moving in much more deliberate ways. She developed a giggle that I would pay top dollar to hear over and over again.

Slowly but surely, this dad who was yearning for some feedback...well, he got it. And he has morphed into the biggest sucker-in-love with his baby girl.

On business trips, I find myself stealing glances at Clara's pictures on my mobile phone. When 7.30 pm arrives, I long to be back home abiding to the evening routine of putting the baby to sleep. Through the night, I miss waking up to hear her cries from the crib. (Okay, I can't sneak that lie in with a straight face. That's total BS. I sleep like a friggin' log in the hotel bed and LOVE every minute of it...Sorry Kate!)

I'm truly surprised by the joy of being Clara's dad. I'm blown away by how much I love that little booger! And I'm pretty sure it's going to last. Well, at least until the terrible two's kick-in.

Update: Poop At Last!

The exact quote from a voicemail Kate left on Paul's mobile phone this afternoon:

"Baby, we have a success! Ugh, it was HUGE and RUNNY. Can't wait to tell you all about it."

And yes, Paul is just as excited to hear about it as Kate is to tell him about it. And no, we did not have to resort to the glycerin option. (I'm squirming in my seat just thinking about it.)

So ends the five day poop saga of young Clara Katherine Dryden.

Show Me the Poop!

Anal follows oral (uh-oh, this may get caught in your porn filters) in Freud's stages of psycho-sexual development, and Clara is only now gaining the dexterity to shove things in her mouth. So, if she has not yet entered the anal stage, she hasn't had the chance to get frustrated in it, and that can't be the explanation for why she hasn't pooped in four days!

I think it's safe to assume we're not dealing with an emotional ailment here. (Strike from the diagnostic possibilities list: anal retentive.) We're now considering the physiological options.

For the better part of the week, this has been Kate's and my obsession. How can an infant, downing as many as 20 ounces of breast milk a day, manage to clamp her bowels shut for this long? Where could all that bamba juice go if it's not cycling through her bum each day as it always has? We're beginning to wonder if there's a secret compartment hidden somewhere inside this child where she could stow away the byproduct and cause her parents high levels of anxiety to boot.

We asked the pediatrician's triage nurse about it yesterday. It's rare, she said, for a breast-fed child to go this long without pooping. A quick review of Kate's diet points to the peck of apples we've worked hard to devour over the past week (hey, we can't let them go rotten) as the likely culprit. We have three recommendations...

1. A warm bath may loosen her sphincter and start the flow.

Does this suggest Clara is willfully puckering 24 hours a day? If so, I think we need to revisit the Freudian concepts. Either way, we tried it. She seemed to enjoy splashing around, but it opened no flood gates.

2. Try a teaspoon of Karo syrup.

Ugh. This is high-concentrate fructose corn syrup. We had it around the Dryden household as kids and used it occasionally as a substitute for maple syrup. Mom, what were you thinking?! In terms of sugar rush, it's the equivalent of an epinephrine needle to the heart. This stuff would put a humming bird into conniption! For anyone wondering if the Dryden children were hyped up on speed back in the day...no, it was just Karo syrup, the legalized alternative.

Clara has downed two teaspoons so far, slurping it through a baby dropper. She seemed to enjoy the first dose, but by the second she was gagging.

And no poop.

3. And if the first two bring no luck, use a baby-sized glycerin suppository.

I don't even want to comment on this one. It's traumatic for her parents to consider; just imagine what she'll think.

We're trying to exhaust all options before moving to #3. Clara is getting a lot of diaper-free time. (We think it tempts her to release it all on the changing table, making a huge mess for her parents to clean. She delights in the mischief.) We're also putting her face down on our laps and rolling her belly across our knees. It creates a kneading motion that, while helping release lots of gas, hasn't yet moved the poop. We welcome additional advice.

The saga continues. Given the build-up, we expect when it comes it will be a geyser. I'm talking physically and emotionally (well, emotional for her anxious parents anyway). We'll do our best to document it in feature-rich detail. I'm sure you'll wait for news of Clara's intestinal evacuation with bated breath.

Side note: What kind of commentary is it that when Clara rolls-over, we put up a brief video. But when she won't poop, we analyze it with a tome? Many years from now, I'm sure she'll enjoy this oh-so intimate (but now very public) record of her week-of-no-poops.

We're setting her up for some quality time on the therapist's couch.

Aqua-Baby

Peggy Golden, Franklin's grandmother, hosted us for a day of swimming in Sanford. Clara dropped the Nikes, donned a baby-Speedo, and jumped in with both feet for her first ever swim.

Since we bathe her with the slow trickle of our garden hose, this was her first actual immersion in water. Her parents were eager to see how she might take to the new environment.

Quite easily, actually. Kate lowered her in ever-so-slowly, at first refusing to let the water go above our daughter's ankles. Clara brought two consoling fingers into her mouth but quickly grew more confident (as did her mother). Before you knew it she was submerged to her shoulders, her diaper had soaked in 1/4 of the pool's water, and she was holding her breath while gliding around on her back.

Thank you to Peggy and the Goldens! Next time, we're taking Clara off the diving board...

Baby's Got Nikes & The Grandparents McKnight

Clara is three-months old. She cannot crawl. She cannot stand on her own. She certainly cannot walk. But she is now the proud owner of her first Nikes, a kind gift from the Derrs in Lock Haven, Kate's hometown.

We're looking for early signals that she'll be a track speedster like her mother. If anyone finds any soccer cleats of similar size, send those along, too. We're also measuring Clara's predilection for the USA Women's National Team...2024.

Irrespective of her future sports greatness, you have to admit she is pretty stylin' in those kicks!

We enjoyed a nice visit from Ted and Barb last week. They continue to find their granddaughter satisfactory. They'll keep her. And as you might deduce from the photos, Clara doesn't suffer from any lack of adoration when around Kate's parents.