Head over heels

It's strange, really. I've never felt this way about anything in my life. I have this this crazy, irrational love for Josiah; like nothing else in the world matters. I would gladly quit my job sell the home studio or leave my post at the church if that's what he needed. I'm probably going overboard a bit, but that's how I feel.

I do this "fatherly" thing that I hate (but I can't help it): I watch everything that people do when they hold him. I mean how they're holding the bottle, how they're picking him up or putting him down. How they go up or down stairs. I'm totally paranoid about his safety (ok, I'm a little obsessed) because I can't stand the thought him being harmed in any way!

Clearly, I need to relax (a topic for a whole other post . . . or blog) but I think it's healthy to be cautious when it comes to your child. It's appropriate to correct mistakes or get angry when people harm your child (accidentally or intentionally). I just have to dial down my initial adrenaline-charged response.

I've always heard that loves makes you crazy, but I experienced it like this before.

Hand Me Downs

I admit that I love hand-me-downs. I grew up wearing clothes that were too little for my older relatives, and recycled toys and games seemed just as good as their new, shiny counterparts. After all, I grew up in a house that watered down the Welch's grape juice to make it last longer. (I still remember the first time I had it right out of the jug; it was like a flavor sucker-punch!)

But I think there's more to hand me downs than saving a few dollars. It's about community. It's about getting together with friends that have been down this road and sharing stories and memories of the clothes. How much use do you really get out that cute 3-month old Osh Kosh outfit? It's nice to know that someone else can enjoy it after you no longer need it.


Amy and I have been extremely fortunate in this area. I don't think we've bought a single outfit, yet the closet (and the dresser drawers) are full! We haven't bought a single toy, but Josiah has a host of toys that were passed along from friends who knew that we would enjoy them. What neat is that every time he's in the bouncy seat, I think of the wonderful couple at church that lent it to us. When we give him a bath, I remember our friends whose son grew out of the tub, so they passed along to us. Everything has been well loved, and there's just some sort of good baby karma in them that brand new, sterile, never-been-used items lack.

All I know is that we're tremendously fortunate to have the support of this community all around us!

Compliments

Amy got another compliment yesterday. She was in the store and another shopper commented on how cute Josiah was. She asked how old he was, and Amy told the woman he was 5 weeks. She replied "You look great!" Amy smiled and thanked her. She gladly took the compliment.

Out on the town

OK, I'll admit it: we played hookey from church tonight and went to Ruby Tuesday and the mall instead. We actually drove by the church because we had to drop off some candy-filled eggs for their easter egg hunt, but we high-tailed it outta there right after the dropoff. I just didn't feel like getting all "gussied up" with the baby and all. [sidebar: can guys get "gussied?" I digress...]

We haven't been out since Josiah was born, and it was night to have a date night, of sorts. At the resteraunt, we felt like Moses parting the waters as people stepped out of our way as soon as they saw the baby carrier. Everyone let us go first, or apologized if they were in our way; we certainly felt special! The hostess got us a "sling" for the baby (which I had never heard of) but it was this cool contraption that allowed us to put Josiah's infant carrier right up to the table at just the right height to keep an eye on him. Pretty slick!

Babies seem to have this weird 6th sense; they sense each other. There was another baby around 6 weeks old at the next table, and the baby made eye contact with our sleeping baby and just stared. I could see him processing the scene: "hey, that little guy looks like me!"

We followed up our dinner with a trip to the mall. We didn't need to buy anything; I was looking forward to strollering him around. Unfortunately, I guess all the kids had off for Good Friday, and the place was packed with mall rats just teeming with aolescent awkwardness. We couldn't stay long, both because we were tired and because we couldn't stand the teenie bopper scene.

Ah, to be young . .. (yeah right...)

Insomniacs, unite!

I just may have found the perfect cure for insomnia. Have a baby. I haven't touched my Ambien prescription since Josiah was born . . .

Josiah has it in his mind that 11:00 pm means "crazy wild play time" and he's inconsolable for about two hours every night. He acts hungry but doesn't want to eat and when I out him down to play, he's fussy there as well. I usually try to get a diaper change in there in hopes that all the action will wear him out.

Tonight was particularly "fun" because he decided to empty the contents of his very full tunny all over me (and the sofa.) Now you have to understand that this baby never spits up; so much so that I barely use a burp cloth anymore. You can probably guess where this is going. I saw the whole thing coming: he spit up a little, so I quickly tried to get him up on my shoulder. Somewhere between my lap and my shoulder he spewed out a milky geyser covering me with recycled formula. Ugh. So I changed him and re-started the whole feeding routine since his tummy was unquestionably empty at this point.

He finally went down around 1:30. Poor little guy . . . I need a shower . . .

Palm Sunday with the folks

Since the big Easter get-together will be next weekend, our immediate family decided to have a little Palm Sunday gathering at my folks' place. Amy was working at her new post at Jefferson Hospital for Neuroscience, so it was just me and "Mr. Cheeks."

It's always fun to hang with the family, but having babies there just enhances the joy! I didn't get it before I had a baby. In fact, in the past it was difficult for us to attend large gatherings where babies would be the focus; we couldn't relate and since we hadn't shared our plan to adopt with anyone, we felt like the "odd man out." But now I have an all new perspective on family gatherings. Watching my folks light up around Josiah warms my hearts; much like when Josiah smiles at me. I didn't realize that I could love such a little creature so much. Even though he doesn't share my skin color or physical attributes, I feel connected with him as if he were my biological son. In fact, the more time I spend with him, the less I even recognize his race. He's just my little man. and I love him so much . . .

First month & Flickr

Josiah is one month old today! Hard to believe, but last month at this time we were driving through the snow and ice to get to the hospital before Patricia delivered. What a wild ride it's been!

We had our 1-month visit to the pediatrician, and Mr. Cheeks is doing great! He's up to 10 pounds now and 21 inches. He's right at the 50th percentile in all categories right now, so he's right where he needs to be. Next month will be all the shots, poor baby . . .

On another note, I've been looking for the best way to share photos with friends & family, and I think the answer if Flickr. I've added a little link on the right-hand column so that you can see the best photos that we've taken Josiah's first month.

"What his history?"

Well, I got my first bizarre adoption question yesterday.  I was telling someone that we had recently adopted domestically, and this person asked, "what's his history?" followed by a preemptive "...if you don't mind me asking..."

I thought about the question and actually repeated it for him, because I really didn't understand what he was looking for.  History?  Did he really expect me to give him detailed information on the birthmother?  I replied, "well, he's three weeks old" insinuating that he hasn't had much of an opportunity for history at this point.  My best guess is that he was curious to Josiah's ethnicity.  I was happy to tell him that Josiah was African-American, but it was a strange way to ask the question.

As an aside, I'm really excited about raising Josiah to be proud of both his adoption story and his ethnicity.  I've met a lot of kids that greet me with, "I'm brown" which is always accompanied by a big smile!  Wouldn't it be great of Josiah can say, "I'm brown and I'm adopted" with that same great big smile?  I hope to teach him to wear those titles like badges of honor so that he can stand tall and proud when he inevitably deals with the whispers.

"Breast is Best..."

My wife is a saint.  She deals with a myriad of insensitive questions, always with a smile on her face.  Truth be told, however, they take their toll.  Our pet peeve of late is the breast feeding question.  Believe it or not, when we tell people we just had a baby, their initial response is, "That's wonderful!  Are you breast feeding?"  No joke!  I feel like retorting with, "Are you impotent?"  I mean, what a personal question!

I realize that breast feeding is probably the best from a nutritional standpoint, but for those of us that have adopted, it's much more complicated.  Sure it's possible with lots of injections, but at some point you have to weigh the emotional impact.  We've been through the ringer with fertility treatments, so we're familiar with injections and the physical and emotional toll they took on us.  It was tremendously difficult.  

What I hate about this particular questions is that there is an inherent "right answer."  As if I'm somehow doing my baby a disservice by feeding him Similac.  Come on, people!  I love my baby more than anything else in the world, which is why it's so hard NOT to be able to do the breast feeding thing.  But I don't think contorting our bodies to do something unnatural is (i.e. stimulating lactation) would be any more loving.

Bottom line: we love our baby and want the world for him!  And because we've chosen adoption, this is the first of many seemingly insensitive questions that we'll face (especially with an African American baby...can't wait...)  But we have a unique and wonderful story to tell, and  we just need to make sure that the whispers don't overshadow our joy.  For our sake and Josiah's sake.