Thursday, April 30, 2009

Day 1

Uncle Henhuh told me the most outrageous fib. Does he think I was born yesterday? D'oh... I was! Talk about an ambush. Massi Santosh also came to visit, with presents! Dad got a soft, jingly cube, while Mom and I got shiny rocks.

Despite spending nearly three hours gnawing on Mom's boobs, over the course of day 1 I slenderized to about 4 lbs 8 oz. This was simply intolerable. You spend your entire life fitting out your wardrobe for size -16, and then you discover you've gone to -20!

Well, I knew what to do. I yelled and screamed. I shook my fists. I held my breath 'til I was blue in the face.

The lactation nurse was unmoved. Mom and Dad took a less sanguine view and called in a pediatrician. We agreed that the all-boob diet was not the ticket for this fashion season. New plan: taunt the baby with the boob, then cram her with formula every time she opens her mouth, until she's a bit stronger.

I spent the rest of night 1 sitting in a car seat, studying up for my driver's permit.
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Wednesday, April 29, 2009

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!

They come for you when you least expect it.  At midnight the nurse wheeled me into the nursery for a hearing test.

She stuck iPod-for-babies over my ears and electrodes on my head. While I grooved out, the computer looked for neurological activity. My verdict: the computer's tonality is very clean, but artistic interpretation is uninspired.

Next she weighed me.  In my first 12 hours of life, I slenderized by 2 oz.  At 4 lbs 15 oz, that makes me about a size -16.  Expect Sharon Third-of-a-Stone to model my designs at the Oscars.

Gang's all here

Around dinner time, my posse came to visit: Jesse, Katherine, and big-sister Rebecca. Uncle Henhuh stopped by as the gang was leaving. Katherine and Mom both said I look like Grandma Natalie, but Dad says I look more like a Bergan. You be the judge.
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Permanente Vacation

While Mom was getting settled in what should have been my bed, I got to take a bath and she didn't. Mm, vernix. I bet Mom is glad she didn't have to lick it off me like harbor seals do.
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Welcome to my crib

After an hour in the recovery room, where I was weighed and tagged and the delivery nurse made me a cute hat with a bow on it, we wheeled over to Mom & Baby Room 35. Mom dibsed the robo-bed, leaving me the see-through bassinet. Can you believe she took advantage of me like that?

Sang froid

Mom and Dad had the delivery nurses squeegee the blood out of my umbilical cord and sent it to a cryogenic storage bank. How cool is that? We hope never to need it, but I don't get another chance to say yes if I need stem cells someday.

A little pinkie

More bonus points:  While Dad and I waited for Mom in the Recovery Room, one of our nurses exclaimed, "Oh, you have a little pinkie!" Dad claims this is amusing.

Day 0

Day 0. I was born. Why day 0, and not day 1? I was born by C-section, and counting starts at 0 in C. Don't look at me like that, Dad made me say it. It's a computer thing.

C-section means I got to claw my way right out of Mom's tummy just like in the movie Alien. It also means I was born around lunchtime after zero hours of labor. All Mom had to do was fast all night and let the doctors play mumblety-peg on her. The hard part comes over the next weeks.

In the operating room were Mom, Dad, three doctors, two nurses, and a tech. If it takes a village to get a child out of Mom, it's going to take a county to raise one.

My saga starts long before day 0, but that's best left for another time. For more about making babies, check your email: You probably have 36 messages from friendly strangers about it.

If you are reading this, you are probably a big person, which means you want to know boring details. Okay, I'll humor ya.
  • Name: Sara Adelaide
  • Date/Time: April 29, 2009, 11:28 am
  • Location: Kaiser Permanente, Santa Clara, CA
  • Weight: 2310g; 5 lbs 1.5 oz.
  • Length: 46 cm; 18 inches
Sara comes from my great-grandma Sara on Mom's side, and Adelaide comes from my great-grandma Martha on Dad's side. It's not obvious to me, either. You'll have to take Dad's word for it.

Tearing my way out of Mom made me so hungry, Dad fed me a half-ounce of formula right there in the operating room. Yum yum.

Bonus points: I was born with a skin-tag tail. Massi Santosh says that means I have the blessing of the monkey god. I'm cool with that. When you're 5 lbs, you take all the blessings you can get.


My name is Sara Adelaide. But Dad started this blog and if he's set on calling me Sadie, what can I say? He calls himself Sparky, so you know he's kind of deranged.