Date: Tue, 10 Dec 1996 14:58:52 GMT Server: NCSA/1.4.2 Content-type: text/html Last-modified: Mon, 02 Dec 1996 02:33:27 GMT Content-length: 41764
Daniel S. Weld
Anxious waiting broken by the expected phone call. Margaret's voice unexpectedly coy - she's hiding good news! Absolutely unbelievable. We rush to the fountain and hug in the sun, gazing into each others face, surrounded by spring, ducks and the Mountain. She recounts Nancy Klein's words on the phone "We did it!" Could this be happening to us? Could this actually be real? Realizing the odds, but unable to hold back a vision of new life. Loving each other. I've never been happier.
After two months of helping Margaret through bedrest, fearing premature delivery, the expected induction was almost surreal. But when they broke Margaret's waters, and she was launched into the rapids of labor, the tempest was pretty shocking to watch. Contractions were back-to-back with no time to rest or recuperate. Fortunately, Margaret dilated quickly and after a mere two agonizing hours, her pleas for an epidural were granted. Now I'd heard from multiple sources that this form of pain relief had almost magical power. In fact one friend had such gratitude for her anesthesiologist, a man named Hans, that she would have bestowed the name on her child if she hadn't gotten a daughter. Before helping Margaret through labor, I thought this story apocryphal, but now I know better. If her anesthesiologist hadn't been a woman, I imagine that Margaret might have argued we switch our choices as well.
The delivery itself was amazing. Adam and Galen entered the world just 9 minutes apart as witnessed by about fourteen doctors and nurses. I did what I could, but even without me Margaret had a full squad of cheerleaders. Good thing too - I just couldn't keep a straight face while saying "What good pushes!" but Tanya and the nurses sounded so sincere. When Adam emerged at 2:43pm on 10/22/95 (my Mom's birthday!), he was so small and helpless. It's impossible to describe his first tiny cry. Galen almost swam out, riding the water slide of his breaking amniotic sac (Tanya couldn't jump back and so got soaked). I'm so happy for the videotape because it all happened so fast.
The next two weeks were frustrating. I had planned to take uninterrupted
time off from work, but given that the boys had to stay at Swedish
hospital, there was little for me to do. It made more sense for me to work
so I could take time off when they came home. But of course I wanted to
visit at night, so my schedule revolved around the bus trip to Swedish and
my brief chance to feed and change them. A tiny amount of contact for 5-7
hours of travel/hospital time each day, but the contact was amazing.
I gather that many couples have an emotional homecoming with their child. The homecoming was emotional for me too, but the particular flavor was "panic." We took the two boys from Swedish to Childrens where I dropped Margaret and Adam, then I took Galen home alone. As soon as we pulled out of the Children's parking lot, Galen started to cry. By the time I got him inside, he was screaming. And I was alone. No Margaret. No nurses. Ok, I'm a new-age man. In fact, I thought I was pretty good at diapers and bottles, but that was the hospital routine. I had that wired. But here at home, nothing was in its place. I couldn't find the diapers. The breast milk was in the trunk of the car. There were no bottles to be found, nor any nipples. The wailing grew louder! Finally, I found the diapers and by removing the soiled one in preparation of its replacement gave Galen the opportunity he sought - pingo, pee all over Dad.
Dan: "Don't you think you should go feed Adam?"
Margaret: "That could be complicated."
Dan (incredulous) "Complicated?!?"
Margaret: "Because of all the babies here in bed." All she dreamed of were breasts, suckling, and rivers flowing with milk.
Some nights I would bottle feed the boys (not much relief for Margaret since
she then had to pump, but they often ate more and hence slept longer after
a bottle feed). And even when Margaret breast fed, I would get up to help
change diapers and burp them. It's always hard to climb from the warm,
sleepy, covers into the cold chill of the bedroom. But the sight of Adam or
Galen gently stretching and slowly waking up is so wondrous that delight
quickly overwhelms selfish annoyance. It's a joy to watch them wuffling
heads back and forth in search of Margaret's breast. And once they both
latch on, they stare, wide-eyed, watching each other, competitively
sucking.
Galen in particular is fun to watch. He gets so frantically hungry that he often has difficulty realizing that the breast is right THERE in his mouth. But when he gets latched, he has a tremendous vacuum. Last night I realized why his sucking sounded so familiar. It was the same rhythmic noise of the gasoline pump at the service station: Chug, chug, CHING, Chug, chug, CHING.
Silence. Then Una says "What's a bris?"
"Very good question" says the rabbi and answers with a long, philosphical discussion of the ritual's history and significance. Then, since there was still need for delaying tactics, he asked again "Any other questions?"
Casey chirps up: "Are the bow and arrows REAL?"
Margaret and I always used to remind each other that it is crucial to treat
life as a process, not as goals and objectives. The boys make this ever
more clear. It's incredible how fast they are growing - at seven weeks,
they are almost double their birth weight. Focusing and tracking. Loving
to be held. Hands gaining control. Smiling. The ultimate process.
While we ate dinner in the kitchen, the boys were in their car seats beside us. Adam was calmer now and waving his hands like a conductor. Suddenly I noticed that he was watching me intently, so I dropped to my knees and crawled over beside him... His eyes are locked on mine. I shape a grin and he suddenly matches it! Huge exaggeration! Eyes incredibly wide! Amazing! Such spasms of feeling! It goes on and on! His body writhes with it! A happiness seizure! I will never forget it.
Eventually it became to much and, overstimulated, he started to cry. The
binky solved the problem, and 20 min later he was ready again. As I smiled
at him, his eyes opened SO wide! Head wiggled and fussed as he tried to
figure out what to do. Then the smile broke out - WOW!
It really seems like a momentous occasion. I wonder what is going on in his head. At some level, it's more incredible than learning to use one's hands. This is the first real communication with another being for him. Up until now it's all been a one-way cry for help, but tonight it was a two-way connection.
I had thought that we'd had social smiles before this, but they have
been paltry affairs compared to tonight. They were gratifying, but just not
of the same significance.
A couple nights ago I came home from work at midnight, all tense and absorbed with technical (and political) issues. The bike ride thru crisp air cleared my mind and set the stage, but when I saw the boys I remembered how unimportant research is in the grand scheme of things. The boys are groing so fast that I simply must take a day off a week to witness the process.
However, the ocean experience has caused me to notice how Galen (just
a bit) resembles a wet flopping fish when he gets angry and
frustrated - too hungry to eat, all stiff, neck whipping around, arms
flailing. Like a sad and panicking grouper, out of water.
Nathan's bouncy chair has been a revelation. When we first put Adam in it, his eyes expanded saucer-like. The brightly colored toy bar fixed his eyes and his arms started their weird spasmic gyrations. The toys are so easy to grasp and so rewardingly pivoted on the bar that the slightest knock produces a gratifying jiggle or spin. One can almost see the reinforcement learning at work. Indeed, it's quite amazing how dramatically his behavior has grown in just two days. He now hits with much higher reliability (both hands) and frequently contects solidly enough to spin the toys for a loop. I think controlled grasping may be but a week away. How satisfying it will be for them to be able to put things in their mouth whenever they want. In the meantime, they are dedicated students: the combination of complete concentration with helplessly incompetent movements is incredibly endearing.
(2/20/96) Our week in Hawaii with David, Felecia and their baby
Nathan was wonderful, but the trip has lead to a new avoidance behavior for
Margaret now that we are back home in Seattle. Last night, when she woke in
the wee hours to the sound of small, hungry wimpers, she simply nestled
deep in the covers ignoring the cries. After all, she told herself, it's
just Nathan crying, not one of my boys.
Inspired by this soggy state, Margaret is considering applying her
epidemiological skills to a prospective study correlating drooling in
infancy with verbal performance during higher education. Perhaps this will
lead to the ultimate early predictor of college admissions: the Salivatory
Aptitude Test.
Utah was the first chance for Nathaniel and William, ages 9 and 6, to meet their cousins. I was touched by their obvious love for the babies and their excited interest in playing with and singing to them. I also noted the sibling rivalry that Nathaniel and William displayed as we hiked during the day. The age difference affects the relationship so strongly --- William copying and competing his role model, Nathaniel needing occasional time away from the cloying dependence. With no age difference, Adam and Galen will have a very different relationship. The opportunity for companionship is great, but the danger of competition is commensurate. I wonder how it will develop?
After camping in Canyonlands, we faced the tortuous 7:30 drive back to
the Salt Lake City airport. No way could the boys go that long between
feeds, but we didn't feel comfortable driving with them out of their
carseats. And if we stopped for nursing, that might make the trip 25%
longer. Finally, my limber wife arrived at a solution. Climbing into the
back seat of our Pathfinder, she arched her back, leaned over Galen, and
managed to initiate breast feeding while he was safely in the car seat. The
rear mirror view was quite hilarious.
(3/31/96) At today's shower for Oren and Ruth, the soon-to-be parents asked
for advice from all in attendance. One woman observed that
everyone would be imposing suggestions, and noted that they should
feel free to adapt (or ignore) anything that didn't seem right. This set me
thinking about all the half-right advice I'd been given over the ages. For
example, Douglas Adams in his famous book The Hitchhiker's Guide to the
Galaxy observes that the most important object is the common beach
towel which should be carried everywhere. I'd adapt this one to refer to
a spare diaper.
And the NRA warns agains walking around with a loaded gun not set to safety - it could be lethal. My interpretation: after feeding, always thump the baby's back until you hear the positive sound of the burb engaging safety - it's just as irresponsible to walk around with a loaded and cocked baby (even if the potential danger is a tad less terminal).
Whether one calls it crawling or scooting, the drawbacks of the approaching milestones begin to sink in. Recently David and Felicia awoke at midnight to the sound of crying. Apparently, Nathan had rolled over in his sleep, scooted several feet to the side of his crib, risen high on hands and knees, and woke himself by bashing his head against the crib bars.
And clearly it's a hard lesson for Nathan to learn the ramifications of his new found power. Yesterday when we played together on the floor, Nathan was interested solely in scooting. But he didn't quite understand what he was doing. With each deliberate movement, Nathan backed farther and farther away from the rest of the group. As the distance separating him from David grew, Nathan grew ever more frantic. His face screwed up into an increasingy worried frown, but he couldn't grasp that his actions were responsible for the parting.
And although Oren never mentioned it, I could see that he was scared that he might not love his baby. It comes back to me now, although it seems hard to believe --- I had that fear too. But how could I not love them? How fast time passes and how quickly I forget.
(4/22/96) Today is Adam and Galen's six month birthday! They seem so small to me, but they are so different from Oren and Ruth's son, Eli. It seems impossible that our boys were ever so inert, so compliant, so delicate as newborn Eli. Although my rational mind recollects that Adam and Galen together weighed less than Eli does now, it seems impossible.
(4/24/96) Springtime is magnificent in Seattle, signaled by an exuberant
procession of daffodils, tulips, cherry blossoms, and dogwoods. But even
more than the flowers, springtime for me is symbolized by the nesting
shorebirds with their promise of fuzzy, yellow chicks. A month ago I
spotted a well-concealed nest tended by two Canada geese --- built mostly
of reeds and grass, the nest is perched on a tiny island in the middle of a
stream entering Lake Washington. Since my bicycle commute takes me along
the stream, I've been able to watch the nest carefully each morning and
afternoon. For over a month, I've empathized with the parents' dedication
to egg warming --- I would pedal towards the nest with anticipation and
feel comforted to see the nest always well tended.
Unfortunately, yesterday brought torrential rains. Garbed in Goretex, I hunkered down for the ride to work, but when I reached the stream I everything looked different. The nest's island was swallowed by a flood and there was no sign of either bird. The scene struck me at a profoundly emotional level and I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. Although the rain had subsided by 6pm, the stream was still choked with muddy water and I could discern nothing from the bank. I felt suprisingly depressed, despite spotting the first chicks of the season not far from the stream. The gander hissed at me as I approached his gangly offspring, and I kept my distance not daring to hope that this was the family I had been watching so long.
This morning the waters receded. I left my bike and pushed through wet brush to find a fallen log which crossed the brook. Balancing carefully above the swampy flow, I approached the ruined nest. Four large grey eggs lay half-submerged in the chill water to one side of a soggy pile of straw. Abandoned. I couldn't quite believe that the depressing sight was real, and all I could do was think back to the many times when we thought (and desperately hoped) that Margaret was pregnant, only to be confronted by depressing truth. The years of trying and, later, months of bedrest were difficult, but how lucky our final result! Regaining my bike, I wondered what the geese were thinking, how much they understood. Did they morn? I wished the birds well.
(5/27/95) Stuffed in a 757 and heading towards Scotland, I fear my
impending nine-day separation from the boys. Even more than their own
growth, the inexorable passage of the past week (with my commensurate
and growing dread) came to symbolize time's momentum. I hate being
deprived from a week of their lives. I wonder how they'll change while
I'm gone and whether they'll remember me when I return.
Since I've last writen in this journal, Adam and Galen have changed enormously. A month ago, when we placed them on their bellies to strengthen their necks, they hated it so much that we referred to the exercise as "Tummy Torture." But now, they like it! Although neither one is yet crawling, Galen wriggles all around and frequently rolls from back to tummy in seach of toy-induced, oral gratification. I wonder if he could begin scooting or crawling while I'm in Scotland? With the arrival of summer weather, our neighborhood has come alive. While it was the incredible abundance of children (thirteen of the fourteen families have two or more kids) which attracted us to the deadend block in the first place, only this year are we really integrating into the community. Afternoons and weekends see dozens of kids playing in the streets with parents trading off informal chaparone duty. Whenever anyone spots an appoaching auto, the warning "Car!" is raised and repeated by all the kids - it reminds me of the way tail-slapping resonates across a beaver pond at the first hint of danger.
The sense of community rains from the rhythms of the children -
kids stream out of one house and flow into the next in an
interconnected swirl of different games. With the addition of Adam
and Galen, the flow extends to our house as well. A rainy afternoon
will usually bring a knock, and Julia or Jessica or Kate will ask
"Excuse me, but are the boys available for holding?" It's an
extraordinary convenience having the extra helping hands, but more
importantly, it's a great way to get to know new people. Until
recently, most of my friends were exactly my age (with the exception
of a few older couples), but now I'm getting to know some teenagers.
I'm sad my parents live so far away, but our block is the next best
thing to an extended family.
Indeed, the interactions between the neighborhood kids tell us much about ourselves... The other night as we relaxed in the Grant's yard across the street, the eldest daughter, Laura, left for a sleepover. ``I love you Mom!'' she called out in farewell ``I love you Dad!'' Then as an afterthought she turned to her younger sister and said ``Bye Julia, you're ok.'' While the incident was amusing at the time, it has come to symbolize a challenge to my marriage. Recently, as Margaret left for work in the morning she first kissed Adam goodbye, professing her love. Then she kissed Galen, telling him how much she would miss him. She was halfway to the door when my ``Aren't you forgetting someone?!'' stopped her in her tracks, and we both burst out laughing.
However, Adam had learned to sit. What a change this imposes on life! Now, Adam is perfectly happy to simply sit in front of a big box of toys. He'll carefully select one, grab it, pull it loose from the tangle, chew on it, shake it, throw it to one side, and repeat with a different choice. Amazing.
Naturally, when we take the boys outside, they get considerable attention
from passersby. The usual refrain goes "Oh, how cute! Are they twins?! Two
boys? Are they identical? How old are they?" and we have the stock answers
hard wired. One day we took the boys to nearby Greenlake which is circled by
a paved trail and packed with individuals and families, walking, running,
cycling, and rollerblading, clockwise and counter, both alone and with pets
(dogs, cats, parrots and ferrets); it's as crowded as a zoo and crazy as a
circus. It quickly became apparent that twins were quite common here, and
happily we were largely ignored by the rank and file. Of course, we still
felt a need to share statistics with other parents of multiples, but this we
learned could be quite efficient. One man approached, jogging at top speed
with a loaded double stroller and in the five seconds between first sighting
and perigee blurted out "Twin fraternal girls; two years!" and we barely
managed to respond "Twin fraternal boys; seven months!" before he vanished
in the distance. Such efficiency.
Their excitement with the process is tangible. No longer are they content to be fed, they demand an active role at dinnertime. Just sitting them in highchairs calms their fussy complaints for a while, but soon they start banging their hands on their tables until they are presented with Cheerios or Baby Biscotti (our name for Zweiback toast). Since they are just learning to feed themselves, we spoon feed them the bulk of their meals. Galen will eat most anything, but Adam has developed quite particular tastes. When offered a bite of Brown Cow yogurt, his mouth opens wide, but vegetables yield a very different expression!
It took a while for Adam to repeat the achievement, but slowly his
proficiency has grown. For the first week he couldn't crawl very far because
he preferred to stretch out, reaching for his objective and this inevitably
left him flopped out on his belly - a position from which he could not
recover. I grew fascinated with the manner in which his motions evolved, day
to day, by trial and error. Over a period of a week, intent exploration led
him to the discovery of a mechanically stable way to transition from sitting
to crawling and back. I'll always remember his look of triumph when he first
spotted a toy, successfully retrieved it, and returned to sit and play with
it. Now he has mastered the lift-from-belly-to-crawl maneuver, and is
spending hours rising unsteadily into a toe-tip crouch and perfecting his
balance, settling securely back onto his knees only when the ground
threatens to claim him. Since my parent's house is not childproof, it is
fortunate that he doesn't realized that he can easily crawl a dozen feet.
Anything farther than three still appears unattainable and fails to
motivate. But by repeatedly moving a desirable object (coffee mug, beer
bottle or newspaper) away as he approaches we can spur him to athletic heights.
Naturally, Adam's ability to crawl provides him a considerable advantage over Galen in the sibling-rivalry arms race. Not long does Galen get to keep the choice toys!. Adam wheels into position, grabs the object before Galen even recognizes the threat, and confidently crawls a safe distance to play. We keep waiting for Adam's prowess to spur Galen's development, but his behavior appears stuck in an evolutionary trap. Long ago, he realized that by stretching his legs way out in front, he could use the tripod principle to stabilize the sitting position. (Actually, we're not sure whether he solved the physics equations analytically or if he reached this understanding via a brilliant intuitive leap.) In any case, the legs now prevent him from crawling towards a toy. He keeps trying and trying, valiantly leaning forward and slapping at the ground. But no matter how hard he struggles, the toys don't get closer.
(8/15/96) Galen still isn't crawling, but he has learned to spin around and around on the hardwood floor. It's very funny to watch, this lazy-susan routine, and its interesting to ponder why Adam never rotated like a top when Galen finds it so amusing. It's also interesting how the behavior equalizes the sibling-rivalry arms race. Now, when Adam stalks in search of a prize toy, Galen simply spins, keeping his back towards his predatory brother. Adam keeps trying the end-run, but Galen can spin faster than Adam can crawl!
(9/2/96) Galen finally started moving last week. While he still isn't doing a symmetrical crawl (he lunges forward with both hands, then uses his left foot to scooch his flacid right leg underneath his bum, and repeats), we can move surprisingly fast. Galen's new mobility combined with Adam's ability to climb stairs and pull into a standing position, makes for a huge potential disaster. Fortunately, the boys like to stay together. If we move one into the bedroom (to change a diaper, say) the other quickly appears. They don't really play together in any meaningful way, but they do make eye contact frequently and burst out giggling. Melts my heart.
(10/15/96) A month and a half have passed, but Galen still doesn't crawl in the traditional sense. He lopes like an injured soldier or a half-tamed animal. Indeed, his odd gait earned him the nickname "Monkey Boy." Meanwhile, tiny Adam crawls at a feverish pace. Since he often carries small toys in his mouth, he looks like a puppy. When he catches sight of some forbidden object in the distance, his short little legs pump at high frequency, shaking his round baby bum, and he recedes into the distance.
The past month has also changed the dynamics of the twins' toy-possession arms race. Although Adam still has a stronger grip and can force a toy from his brother's grasp, Galen seems now to have the advantage. His secret is a meticulous defense. When Galen senses Adam's predatory pursuit, he spins 180 degrees and lopes away. Adam rarely gets close enough to overpower his sibling. When the situation is reversed however, clueless Adam appears oblivious to the impending threat of his approaching brother. Galen simply sidles up and snatches; then spins and scrams.
Peach Apricot Muesli. It sure sounds good! But the boys know better. Somehow they sense the spoon's contents before it ever makes it near their mouths. Adam shakes his head, clamps lips shut and flails his arms in a (usually successful) attempt to deflect incoming mouthfuls. Galen can sometimes be tricked into a bite, but then... pause ... the mouth opens, tongue rolls back, and the complete spoon's contents is slowly and inexorably forced back out. The masticated mess rolls down the chin and impacts the bib.
(10/22/96) How can a whole year have passed? This should be a happy day,
and indeed the boys are happy (although they have no idea all this fanfare
is about them!), but it makes me sad. It reminds me too undeniably
that time is an ever faster torrent. When I was a child, a morning could
last soooo long. I remember watching Apollo 13 on TV and Dad saying
that it would take three days for the astronauts to get to the
moon. Three days?!? Sure, being the first person to walk on the moon would
be cool, but three days was way too much of a sacrifice.
If the rivers of time flow ever faster towards the great fall, then my boys must still be floating in a placid eddy. But when I look at them, they don't seem placid?! They revel in life, experiencing the most dramatic ranges of emotion. Why is it that we seem less able to enjoy life the older we get? Do the river banks start moving by so fast that we become transfixed, unable to focus on the journey's pleasures for fear of reaching the final destination?
Today's observation: My sons are musical instruments, and my family is an orchestra.
Yes, it's true --- Galen loves to be played percussion. He lies on his back like an L, feet straight up in the air, supported by my lap. Sensing the performance is about to begin, he hums "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" and I start rhythmically pumping his legs, thumping his belly, tapping his chest, and vibrating him into sound. He smiles and changes pitch. When our efforts merge in brilliant harmony, he becomes amazed at his output and laughs --- which really sounds funny, causing more laughter.
Meanwhile, Adam is on his back in Mom's lap, resonating away. So we play together, side by side, on the kitchen floor. The family orchestra.
Over time, Adam and Galen have grown to love baths. The mere sound of a tub running water draws Adam from the most distant room in the house. I hadn't thought that Galen felt as strongly, but this morning I learned otherwise.
Assuming Margaret and Adam were seconds behind me, I carried Galen upstairs and left him playing in the beroom whil I jumped in the shower. Seconds later he was standing against the side of the tub, batting at the shower curtain. I sang to him as I rinsed shampoo... Then heard a meaty thud and felt something wriggle against my ankles. I still don't know how he managed to climb over and fall in!
When Margaret and Adam finally arrived they were surprised to see Galen peering thru the steam, fully dressed, sopping wet, and very happy. He shed clothes and we cleaned up together.
The boys are fascinated with the concepts "in" and "out." Adam will spend hours on the kitchen floor placing bowls, first one in the other, and then vice versa. All the time, he has his tongue protruding in concentration.
Both love to open and close doors. With its swinging springy action, the kitchen door is best. They will crawl to one room, circle behind the door, then push it shut. There is a moment of tension when it rests closed, especially if the boys are separated. Drumming my fingers lures the hidden boys close to the door. Then I pull the door open and peer around to giggles. Once I prop the door open on the new side, Adam and Galen race for the chance to push it closed again.
(11/30/96) Adam has his projects. I have no idea how he decides what to focus on, but when he sets his mind to something he becomes completely pig headed. Don't even think of interrupting him, unless you are willing to brave a total tantrum.
So what does he do? Well, a few nights ago he was obsessed with the arch formed between the piano's two right legs. He crawled up and over, through the arch, then turned around and went back. Again. And again. Grunting with effort. Tongue out in concentration.
The next day it was the green ball. He'd ctach it, grab it, toss it onto the stoop leading towards the bedroom stairs, then climb onto the stoop, throw it off, climb off, and repeat. Over and over.
Today, it was the toy box. He emptied the red crate of toys (mostly), then climb inside. Then climb out. (Sounds easy, but the box's walls are pretty high, so it was a real challenge. And any challenge is worth savoring. Again and again.