Seven Things I Like About Leo

Ok, kind of a lame title, but I couldn't think of anything wise. We've had our ups and downs the past 11 days, but I've written a whole lot more about the downs than the ups. So here are some things that have occurred to me, in the ten seconds I took to think about this entry, about this new Leo. Things that sort of relax my shoulders a bit as I try to nurse at 3 in the morning.

1. He's a big baby. I like big babies. There was nothing that made me more nervous as a la leche leader than to meet with a mom of a little 5 pounder who didn't have enough energy to latch on and stay on. Mom's supply drops, the baby gets weaker...Leo is strong and big and has a vigorous suck.

2. He cries when his diaper is dirty. And that's it. He gets a little squirmy when he gets laid down to sleep, and obviously a sponge bath is not his idea of a fun time, but he is no mystery. Every unhappy moment has an immediate cause.

3. He sleeps well. Mostly he likes to sleep in your arms, yes, but he's starting to take to the crib mattress. It means I sleep kind of half in the crib, too, but sleep is sleep at this point. He hasn't switched to a diurnal pattern yet, not all the way, but it's getting easier.

4. His name provokes conversation. So did the girls', but I like talking about his namesake, Mike's uncle Leo, and the Grateful Dead song we got Cassidy from. Neither of the girls were named for people in our family, so this is new. And it's nice. Leo Baudino was a good guy. I didn't know him well, but every conversation I had with him with real. A lot of my conversations with Mike's extended family, and my extended family, are very much on the surface and awkward. Never with Leo. We talked politics and Catholicism and political Catholicism...one time he called Justice Scalia "the biggest Nazi wop" he'd ever seen. He brought his own wine to dinner and I always had a glass--usually a nice Italian red, when everyone else in the room imbibing was drinking Asti. He had completely white hair, a van dyke that came to a point, and a horse he let Sophia ride. And Cassidy? I like seeing folks' facial expressions when I tell them. Although I'm kind of crunchy granola, I'm a lot closer to the idea of soccer mom than to deadhead.

5. Ann has quite a story about the milieu Leo's born into. Call it synchronicity, coincidence, or one of the little moments in my life that catch me unawares and say "Hello Bridgett, this is God checking in." The short version: unbeknownst to me, and also to Ann, Leo was born on the 8th anniversary of Ann's father's death. Ann's dad's name was Leo. Go here to read it.

6. Coming back to the mundane world, he really is quite a cute little guy. He looks more and more like Maeve all the time--with Sophia's mouth, but otherwise, it's Maeve II. It makes me eager to see where he's headed. The eyes, the hair--they're still up in the air. Coming soon enough.

7. When I had to go to the ER with Maeve and out of my mind and of course I wasn't bringing my newborn to another germ factory of an ER...I'd pumped about 6 ounces when I had some engorgement a few days before and stuck it in the fridge, you know, just in case. I told my mother-in-law to feed him that, that we'd work it out later when I was home (breastfeeding is tenuous at the beginning, and I know how hard it can be to fix early screw ups). We use difficult bottle nipples to help babies realize the breast really is better--they're designed for babies with cleft palate and I was passed them in the NICU with Sophia. So anyway, I got home to nurse Leo and bam, he latched on and did just fine. Nicely resilient.

In other news, I got my back straightened out, my tailbone isn't broken after all, and pain medication is working. Oh, and I am SO HAPPY with the paint job in my room. I'll have to take a picture there, too. In the middle of the night, sitting up nursing the baby, it's nice not to have to stare at that awful wallpaper anymore.