"Thanks, Mom"

I know that new mothers (and GrandMarys) are emotional, tears flowing at the least little thing. But this Proctor & Gamble commercial airing during the Winter Olympics pushes all the mama-buttons, whether you're holding a newborn or having a glass of wine with your adult child. Grab the tissues, and have a look:

Settling in

At 4 1/2 days old and having spent 2 1/2 days at home, Liam is settling in nicely. He's tried out his cradle, his swing, his Pack and Play, and his changing table. You know, just checkin' everything out to see what's what and what suits him at a particular moment. He's pretty easy-going, being at the eat/sleep/poop-pee stage of life (which I'm rapidly approaching on the other end . . . ), and is easily soothed with swaddling, swinging, jiggling or bouncing.

It took three of us to change the first poop-diaper. Stuff was spewing, oozing, spraying everywhere, and we were all laughing so hard that the task took far longer than necessary, I'm sure. It really does take a village. At least when Old Faithful and oil gushers are coming out of a tiny baby. A pity there were no extra hands to record the hilarity on the Flip Cam.

Mama's already found the favorite blanket, and Liam is perfectly happy swaddled tightly therein. We've discovered that many "newborn" clothes are made for newbies weighing 9-10lbs, instead of Liam's comfy 6 1/2, although the Gerber onesies (0-3 mos.) fit fine. However, he is quite the dapper little guy, whatever he wears.

The exercise ball that Kate used during early labor to help move things along has come in handy as a place to bounce as we hold the baby. It's a different motion than rocking or gliding, and Liam loves it. Plus, I think I might be getting a little exercise out of it.

Flowers, visitors, and gifts arrive daily, adding to the festive "Welcome Home!" atmosphere. All in all, I think GrandBoy is settling in nicely.

GrandBoy's First Day

You'd think that a newborn could get a little peace and quiet after spending all those hours being squeezed out of that warm jacuzzi he lived in for almost 10 months. Not so.

Oh, the measuring and weighing and battery of tests! A guy barely drops off to sleep or has a chance to greet his many visitors, when in swoops someone to take him away to test his hearing or PKU or a photographer bounces in to take pictures. Sheesh!

Then there's the steep learning curve of how to maneuver his hands out of a tight swaddle or figure out the whole breast-feeding thing. Face it, things were a lot simpler in the mommy-jacuzzi.

But the little guy with the face of an angel and a headful of fabulous hair is a pretty smart cookie. He survived Day 1, usually in the cuddle of Mama or Daddy or GrandMary or friends who dropped by the hospital for a first glimpse at the little feller. He's catching on fast.

Which is good, because his second 24-36 hours will throw him another little curve: going home. No more nurse interruptions or hospital surroundings. It shouldn't be too hard for him to settle in to his adorable nursery, chill out in his swing or cradle, and start living the life of Liam.

You're doing great, kiddo!

Life of the party at an hour old!

Liam's first visitor was friend Lindsey, who found her way to the Labor & Delivery Room right after GrandBoy was born. Bearing yellow flowers and another camera to document the recent arrival's title of "Newborn Host With the Most," girlfriend Lindsey gave new Mama someone with recent birthin' experience to share the joy with.

Thanks, Lindsey, for being a part of this special moment!

Introducing Liam Samuel Richeson

He's here! Liam Samuel Richeson

February 21, 2010

12:03pm

Weight: 6lb 9oz

Length: 19 1/2"

Headful of black hair. Precious beyond belief.

Mama and Liam both healthy. Good job, Kate!

More pictures to follow! Thanks for your thoughts and prayers.

A good night's labor

After a rough evening that included grunts and tears, Kate decided the pain was just too much, so around 12:30am we all headed to Piedmont Hospital. Thanks to my iPod stopwatch, I kept track of the contractions for about an hour and a half. As we raced to the hospital, all were hoping that she was dilated enough for the much-anticipated epidural to relieve the pain. And, yea!, she was!

Kate's room is fabulous #14 - larger than my apartment in NYC, and with all the comforts of home. The overnight team of nurses was wonderful, especially Christy (or Kristie?), who was with us all night. The anesthesiologist was terrific - probably the most loved guy on Floor 2 at Piedmont.

Once Kate had the pain meds, life became much better. She rested, though didn't really sleep, while I crashed on the pull-out sofa and Greg hit the floor. I didn't sleep much, off and on for a couple of hours. I got up and tended to Kate, talked, straightened the bedding, as such. We let Greg sleep.

After the 6am check-in from Christy, we had to say bye-bye to her until she comes in for her shift tonight. I took the opportunity to go back to the house to take care of the dogs, brush my teeth, change clothes, and pick up the laptop. Got back to the hospital around 9am, and now things are moving fast.

It's almost time for the Big Push. She's ready to go. Fresh bag of epidural goodness is in place. GrandBoy will make his entrance soon!

Reporting for (labor) duty

Daughter is officially in labor. She hasn't slept much over the past few days, so the doc wants her to nap as  much as possible (gave her some pills to help), then get up and move around when she's not catching up on sleep. Father-to-Be hasn't had much rest, either. Heck, after I got the phone call at 1:30 this morning asking if I could catch an earlier flight from NYC to ATL, I've only grabbed about 8 winks myself.

GrandBoy dutifully waited for me to hit town (yes, I caught an earlier flight), and for that, we all thank him. Now, we can get down to the business of pulling him into the world. Well, OK, I don't have any control over that, but I do have a list of duties to perform while the soon-to-be parents do the heavy lifting.

1. Back rubs for Kate during contractions
2. Special errands for Greg (oooh, mysterious!)
3. Keeping up with dishwashing/clothes washing
4. Doggie duties - feeding, etc., for four dogs
5. Being available when needed
6. Staying out of the way the rest of the time

Duty list may expand once GrandBoy hits the air. Until then, taking care of his parents is the best that I can offer.

One ringee-dingee, two ringee-dingee

The telephone can be a pregnant woman's best friend or most tiresome enemy. As Daughter says, one of the benefits of being nearly due to deliver is that everyone answers your phone calls on the first ring. The downside, however, is that every call the almost-mama makes or answers is assumed to be The One.

Way back in 1983 I was still pregnant 13 days past my due date. About 4 days over that pregnancy-expiration date, I just stopped answering the phone or making phone calls. "Still pregnant?" "Have you had the baby?" "When are you going to the hospital?" I got tired of answering: Yes. No. I don't know. Those phone calls were a weary reminder that, dammit, my baby was not adhering to the schedule.

A few days ago Daughter called and the first words out of her mouth were "No, this isn't it, I'm not having the baby." Like she'd forget to let me know if she had? "Oh, yeah, we had him last Thursday. He's fine. Did I forget to call?" I assured her that she didn't have to say that to me. It would be really clear if the call was Big News.

When and if she has to call hubby or me for a ride to the hospital, I think it will be obvious. Either: "It's time, let's go!" or "Heeee-heeee-hoooo-hoooo-heeee-heeee . . . " (the old breathing technique, don't ya' know).

News travels much faster and broader than it did in 1983. Kate's dad called his side of the family. My mother called our side of the family. Whoever got the phone calls was expected to pass the news along the line to everyone else. For other folks, they just had to wait for the birth announcement to come in the mail.

We'll still use the telephone for immediate family. But almost as soon as the phone calls happen, the news will start speading via email, blogs, Twitter and Facebook. Snail-mail birth announcements will go out in a timely fashion, but most folks will have heard the news by then.

The tiresome-telephone phase will stop as soon as GrandBoy makes his grand entrance. But for now, the phone is just another reminder that it hasn't happened yet.

For my part, I'd just like to thank GrandBoy for hanging on until GrandMary can get to Atlanta. I leave early tomorrow morning. Once I land, son, you can come anytime. Then we'll put that telephone to good use.

Tiger-Water Boy or Tiger-Fish Boy?

I'm not much of a horoscope follower, but there's been some speculation in the family about whether GrandBoy will be an Aquarian like his dad or a Pisces like, well, like I don't know who. (Mama-to-Be and GrandMary are both Taureans - soooo full o' bull.) Anyway, if he gets here by February 19th, we'll have a little Water-Bearer. After that, he'll be our little Fish.

But whether a water-boy or fish-boy, according to Chinese astrology, he'll be a little Tiger (the animal, not the skirt-chasin' golfer). Bravery, competitiveness, and unpredictability are traits of all born in the Year of the Tiger. They're born leaders, intelligent, and always on the alert.

To clarify even more, 2010 babies are "Metal Tigers," as opposed to Water, Wood, Fire, or Earth Tigers born in other feline years. Metal Tigers are assertive and sharp and tend to jump to conclusions. Not sure how a Metal Tiger personality gets on with an Aquarian water-bearer or Pisces fish element, but we'll just have to wait and see.

Who knows how all this stuff lines up with the moon and the stars? In the Chinese Zodiac, Mama is a Boar, Daddy is a Goat, and GrandMary a Rabbit. Water-Bearers and Bulls and Fish and Tigers, Goats, Boars, and Rabbits. Quite a menagerie. With water involved. Only time will tell if all these signs and elements can co-exist in relative peace.

So, little Tiger-Boy, we're looking forward to your brave, intelligent, unpredictability, whether you're carrying water or swimming in the deep blue sea.

My little one, little one

I'm very weepy today. I keep humming that great Harry Belefonte/Alan Greene/Malvina Reynolds song that became famous as a Kodak commercial.

Where are you going, my little one, little one?
Where are you going, my baby, my own?
Turn around and you're two,
Turn around and you're four,
Turn around and you're a young girl
Going out of the door.

There's more, of course. I'm working on a little "Turn Around" project, which I'll share on the blog when I'm finished, but for now this will have to do. Believe it or not, this is the only baby picture of Kate (her baptism) I have with me in NY. She has all of her baby albums, with pictures I must scan into my computer while I'm in Atlanta.

Anyway, it's not just the song that's set me off. As we get closer to her delivery date, I can't help but think that sweet, tiny little girl, born on a glorious day in May, is about to have a babe of her own.

I don't have a son, but I can't help but think that the mama's (soon to be grandmama's) experience of a daughter giving birth is a uniquely emotional one. This has no bearing whatsoever on the gandbabe in question - all the babies are dearly loved. But traveling through preganancy and childbirth with the woman you carried and gave birth to is a powerful thing.

I never for an instant forget what Kate was like as a newborn . . . as a toddler . . . as a spirited little girl. She's still all those things - a look, a laugh, a gesture is often the mirror of her much younger self.

And now she's going through with GrandBoy what I went through with her.

Turn around and you're a young wife with babes of your own.

The Waiting Game

Any news? That's the #1 question I'm asked these days. GrandBoy's not officially due until February 22, but he's dropped into position and could come any time now. Daughter says one of the benefits of being close to delivery is that everybody answers her phone calls on the first ring.

I'm hoping Baby Boy holds on until the afternoon of the 20th. That's the date of my plane ticket to Atlanta, and my pocketbook would appreciate not having to cough up the extra dough to change it. But I am ready to head South as soon as I get the call. I live in great hope that neither LaGuardia nor Atlanta airports are having weather issues when that call comes.

Ever hopeful that Daughter makes it to her next doctor's appointment on Tuesday the 16th, we should have more delivery option information after the doc sees her. Yes, she can go any time, but Mr. Liam may feel he needs to cook another week or so. Or he could be like his mama and just want to stay put for as long as possible before the Induction Police arrive. Just making the appointment to be induced was enough to let his mama know that the jig was up, and she had to come on out. She made her appearance two days before that appointment came to fruition. ("Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'. I'm comin'.")

My feeling is that GrandBoy just wants his GrandMary to save that extra flight-change money so that she can spend it on something cooler - like whatever shiny new thing catches his fancy. Maybe.

Till I get the call - that I'll answer on the first ring, from Daughter or Son-in-Law heading for the hospital - I'm playing the waiting game.

And the countdown begins

Now that the calendar says February, we're taking bets on when GrandBoy will make his appearance. The due date is the 22nd, but after Kate's visit to the doctor this morning, any time between now and the end of the month is feasible. She's having contractions, but not the hurtin' kind, and the baby has dropped over the past few days.

I'm thinking the week of the 15th, though my ticket home is on the 20th, and if the little bugger could hold out till then, I'd be grateful (though Mama might not be).

Watch this space for updates!

Choosing a name

No, not the baby's. I'm talking about my "grand" moniker. Well, let's look at some choices, shall we? I guess if I'm boring, I could be BlandMa. In trouble? BannedMa. At the beach? SandMa or TannedMa. No, none of those work. I think the word "ma" is the problem (yeah, like "banned" isn't?). "Ma" sounds old to me. Run-down. Sleeves rolled up, doing the washing by hand. Hold that thought.

"Grand" is fine, but "fabulous" is better. Alas, "FabMa" doesn't roll trippingly off the tongue. UberMa sounds too controlling. Most Excellent Ma sounds, well, not very Southern. OK, let's stick with "Grand" and hope I can live up to it.

Of course I could abandon "grand" and "ma" altogether. We already have a "Nana" and a "Gigi" in the family, so those are out. (First come, first served on grandparent names.) I'm not the Mimi-type. MeeMaw, Gommy, Nonni? Er, no. OK, back to "Grand."

Time for a confession. Kate and I decided my grandparent name when she was 9 or 10 and in her American Girls doll-phase. Kate's first American Girl doll was Samantha. We loved reading the books that told her turn-of-the-century story. It was in those stories that we found my grandmother name. Samantha was an orphan who lived with her grandmother . . . wait for it . . . Grandmary. Bingo! Perfect name. Of course, it really helps if your name is Mary, as mine is. Grandmary probably wouldn't work for, say, a Susan or a Tiffany.

So, forget the "ma" and "Mimi" and "Gummy." I'm going with Grandmary. Now, let's see how the grandbabies actually pronouce it! But, as the saying goes, I don't care what they call me, as long as they don't call me late for supper. But they'd better not forget to call at all.

Grabbing onto the the techno-grapevine

As a very proud, soon-to-be grandmother (OK, the term "grandmother" still causes me to wince a little), I'm trying to come up with the fastest and easiest way to get the word out when GrandBoy makes his appearance this month. Of course, Ma and Pa will send out the official, printed birth announcements, but this old lady has a lot of friends to whom she'd like to herald the good news in a less formal way. (Formal usually equals a gift of some kind, right?)

Now, the family will get phone calls, of course, with email back-up. Hospital pictures will fly back and forth, as well.

But friends and co-workers don't need or expect a phone call. So I'm thinking the best way to notify my pals is via an email birth announcement. Is this a tacky idea? I hope not, because in this day and age, email is usually the quickest, most reliable form of communication other than a phone call. I trust there are some cute, FREE designs out there that I can grab online.

Has anyone done this? Recommendations? Just looking for the best way to broadcast the glad tidings when the time comes.