Meeting the offices

We went off to visit our various jobs yesterday, to say hello to our coworkers and let them coo over Laurel a bit.

To itemize:

  • SF Examiner (Baby’s First Editorial Meeting): News productivity rapidly reduced by the need for reporting & editorial staff to come examine Laurel. Much cooing and passing-around of the baby. Laurel slept through the entire affair. Amusingly, it took about two minutes for all the men to drift back to their desks; the women stuck around for ten minutes or so.
  • Google: Site of an actual baby evidently a rare event at Google SF, judging from the number of surprised looks over various shoulders. Sat around chatting w/ coworkers for a bit, mostly about non-baby stuff.
    • Baby’s First Evacuation: was about to take her off for a diaper change when the fire alarm went off. Entire staff evacuates the building amidst much grumbling — this was evidently the third false alarm in a week, from a system only six months past its last lengthy bout of regular false alarms (one of the App Engine guys built a little “time since last false alarm” app with lots of animated flames just to make the point — after a while it was getting updated before the evacuation rather than after).
    • Baby’s First Improvisational Diaper Change: Cleared to reenter building, Laurel was thus spared being changed under Cupid’s Arrow. Instead, changed her on the men’s room counter in the narrow space between two sinks. After a few minutes of this, Laurel had squirmed around such that she was flailing one arm continually in front of the sensor on one of the soap dispensers, thus accumulating an impressive puddle of soap for which I could think of no real use, and also ensuring that her left arm & hand would smell distinctly of generic lotion soap for the rest of the day.
    • Baby’s First Nursing Room Visit: Talked a lactating coworker into unlocking the Mom’s Room so Beth could nurse Laurel. Since I usually handle the followup bottle of supplementary formula, hung out there myself too. Observations included respectable appointment of said room, need for massage chair in addition to ordinary comfy padded one, probability of Laurel being the first actual baby ever nursed there, and a strong desire to push the “call for help” button on the wall to see what sort of help would arrive.

Also added the K Ingleside to Laurel’s public transit scoreboard.

– Devin

How we grow

After our struggles last week, Laurel is gaining weight like it’s her job (which, as far as I’m concerned, it is) and developing even more goofy habits related to nursing. Her latest thing, especially at night when we’ve got lights on and she’s sleepy, is to nurse a while and then bury her head underneath the breast, where it’s nice and dark. But she’ll sling an arm protectively over the breast, as if to say, “I know it looks like I’m not using this, but I am. Hands off.”

She’s also started muttering and squeaking while she eats. The muttering is pretty cute; she sounds like she’s rasping, “Allright, allright” over and over again. It makes me call her “The breast whisperer.” I tell her, “You talk to the breast and tell it to give you milk.” And she says, Allrightallrightallright. The squeaks are more intermittent but just as cute. On top of that, she often winds up with her nose mashed into one side of my breast no matter what position we start in, so her breathing is audible. Devin says it sounds like I’m nursing an elderly vacuum cleaner.

But I love how, when she’s worked up about being hungry and we put her on the breast, the look in her eyes changes from Oh god I thought I’d never see you again to deep and total peace.

We’ve been glancing at the developmental milestones guidelines to figure out what she might be up to by the end of her first month. Admittedly, the first four weeks aren’t a huge hurdle for her, but there are a few things. She can already hold her head up for short periods, although not so reliably that we don’t hang on to it like it could pop off at any moment.

And just the other night, after a nice long nurse, we laid down and she looked at me with her wide open eyes. I showed her my hand, which startled her at first, but then as I moved my hand slowly back and forth in front of her, she followed it with her eyes. She did it again the next day, and with a bit more control, so I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a fluke.

— Beth


I fed my daughter from a bottle today, and she looked at me as if I were Superman.

That demands some explanation, I suppose. So let me back up. This is where we get into the not-sweetness-and-light side of Laurel’s first week in the world, the ones that mostly don’t photograph and that take up a lot of our time.

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