I have been a professional for nearly a month. To my knowledge, I haven't killed anyone.


Note: not one of my patients.

I have been a parent for three months now. To my knowledge, we haven't lost anyone yet. Unsure whether I have permanently scarred them already or not.


Yep. Still two kids. 

I have been a Michigander for a little over a month now.


Pretty.


I'm learning the language and blending in with the locals. "Party store" is not a place where you buy streamers and balloons. Saying you went to "U of M" here means you are a Wolverine, not a Gopher. (I also learned that maize and blue are polar opposite color schemes to spartan green and white.) And they are called "cottages," not "cabins." What strange and interesting folk, these Michiganders.

We have begun an earnest search for a house. The biggest challenge will be narrowing down our options, as houses for sale are as plentiful as dirt (nearly as cheap too). We have a working list of features we'd like in a house which might narrow the field a bit: monkey butlers, robot maids, and Japanese-style toilets.


Ooo...it oscillates!


The boys? The boys are doing just super. Three months old yesterday and sleeping 8-10 hours at night now. Occasionally I have woken up in the morning to my alarm! Not the baby monitor! It is bliss unlike anything I have encountered. I imagine that entering Heaven feels much the same way.

Orators of the future, speak up!

One week into our new adventure in our new home state. The dust is settling and some of the boxes are being unpacked and a few routines are emerging from the clutter. A new "normal" is here.

Benjamin and Eli are growing, as every sensible baby should. Our last (very) unofficial weigh-in showed that Benjamin is hovering around thirteen pounds while Eli is somewhere in the ballpark of eleven. Feedings are often preceded by inpatient and indignant cries and wails from the boys, indicating that 1) they are displeased with the rate of service and 2) they LOVE formula.

Overall, however, temperaments are cooling and the boys are learning to enjoy life a little more. Smiles are abundant these days, as are the beginnings of language.

The boys are learning what sounds a dove makes.

Sleep is more plentiful. The pace of life is more manageable. Things are good. One last day of "vacation" and then I begin my career as a professional grown-up. No more fartin' around. Time to get serious.

After all that, now this.

A year ago, I was a child-less student with a mortgage and no minivan. Today, I am a father of two, a professional, a minivan-owning transient. This week marks the end of our time in my home state of Minnesota and the beginning of our new life in Anna's home state of Michigan.

Honestly, how can you resist the siren call of the Great Lakes State?

The last couple weeks have been full of pomp and circumstance and studying and celebration. After too many years, I finished my academic career and graduated with a fancy title that no one will use. A week and a half later, I took (and passed) my board exams to make myself officially qualified to practice my craft. Somewhere in there, I accepted a job in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was a busy time.

Proof!

Now, 3/4 of my family is in Michigan and I am still here in Minnesota, tidying up the loose ends and getting ready to load up the U-Haul. I will have had two days to finish packing and organizing, which I feel is plenty of time, and yet I will never feel comfortable that everything is truly done. Knowing me, I will likely have forgotten somethings. Several somethings.

I don't exactly know what to expect now. No more studying. No more planning for the kids' arrival. No more planning for our move. No more looking for a job. These are all checked off the list and now...there's nothing left on the list. I guess we get to relax a bit? Play with my kids a whole lot more? Maybe go up to the cottage for a time? Hope and pray that the NFL gets its act together so I can finally enjoy a season without having to worry about studying during halftime?

Oh wait. We have to "unpack" and also "look for a more permanent place to live." Forgot about those things.

What have we learned in four weeks?

I have been a parent for nearly a month now. I've picked up some tips along the way:

Always use the pee pee teepee. Always.

The human body can function on very little sleep. It doesn't function well, but it functions.

The battery companies and the baby gear companies are colluding with each other. Seriously, the SEC should look into this.

White noise white noise white noise. Don't try to sleep without it.

Minivans. Drink the kool-aid.

Every time the alarm goes off for the midnight feeding, I cringe. Then every time one of my sons sleepily looks at me or nuzzles into my neck, I un-cringe. It's wonderful.

If we could derive energy from unsolicited parenting advice, we could power the planet until it is a charred husk about to be devoured by a dying sun.

On the flip side, good parenting advice is worth its weight in gold. Parents have been doing this for years so something must work.

In the end, you have to make your own decisions. And it will be ok.

Finally, the boys seem to already be settling their differences themselves.



Hope you are (sleeping) well.

A Fight To The Birth

On Tuesday, May 10, we had our last prenatal appointment. We knew it was our last because we were entering the 38th week of Anna's pregnancy. The finish line. Our OB, Dr. Mahan, was pleased as punch that Anna was doing as well as she was. We scheduled the induction to begin on Thursday evening with the goal of having two healthy boys arrive sometime Friday.



After we got there, the nurses hooked Anna up to all sorts of doodads and whatnots and told her to relax as much as someone can when they are going to give birth to two human beings within a matter of hours.



Fortunately, some good friends stopped by that night and provided Anna with some distracting and highly entertaining reading material.


This is a real thing you can buy at a real gas station. God bless America.


Our dear friend Becca was Anna's nurse for the first night. Since she was playing a major role in the birth of our children, we gave her a hint that the names started with B and E. When no further hints were given, she made up her own and wrote them on the board, eliciting many awkward compliments from other nurses who would come through the room.


Etoile? Really? Really?


Anna's water broke about 3:00 AM on Friday. She was started on Pitocin around 9:00 AM and valiantly labored for several hours before getting an epidural and some much needed rest. The real fun began about 6:00 PM. She pushed and pushed and pushed some more before finally getting dilated enough to head to the C-section room.



Our doctor was going to let Anna try to deliver these kids naturally but wanted the added security of being in the OR suite Just In Case.

She huffed and puffed and pushed and did pretty much the most amazing thing that can be done on this planet, which is give life to another human being. And she did it TWICE. Benjamin Daniel emerged at 8:15 PM CST on Friday, May 13, all pink and gooey and screaming. He weighed in at a hefty 7 lb 15 oz and a gargantuan 15" head. It was, as anyone who has witnessed it will tell you, the most amazing thing you will ever see. I saw my son be born and he was beautiful (under all that goo).



We were all full of oohs and aahs when Benjamin arrived, so much so that we did not notice the sudden busy-ness with which the medical team was working. The change in tone was palpable: the doctor and nurses were no longer encouraging Anna but were quietly and purposefully talking to one another. I became concerned and asked if something was wrong.

"Baby B's heart rate has dropped to about 60 beats per minute for three minutes now. We need to get him out right away," said a nurse. This was not spoken with panic or dread, but with cool professionalism and more than a little urgency. A vacuum extractor was brought out and attached to Baby B's crown. The doctor told Anna to give one long push. As she did, the doctor pulled on the tube attached to the vacuum extractor attached to my son's head, and out he came.

Instead of a gooey, pink, screaming baby, we had a gooey, purple limp baby. Along with the sight of him came the instant sensation of a lead brick in my stomach, a lump in my throat, and tears in my eyes, all of which I tried to fight back because suddenly I had to be the strong father for my kid. This person I have only just seen and not even touched somehow required my show of strength for his benefit.



Eli Harrison was born at 8:25 PM CST, weighing in at 6 lb 14 oz, though we did not find this out until later. Eli was whisked to a nearby warming table where the neonatal nurses immediately went to work on him, rubbing their hands on his body and forcing air into his tiny lungs. He was breathing, but only just and with the greatest difficulty. I found myself timidly asking a nurse through trembling lips if he was going to be ok. They calmly told me that yes, he would be fine, but he needed immediate care in the nursery. And off he went. And once again I felt that brick and a crushing sense of helplessness.

In the meantime, I had one healthy son and an exhausted but absolutely beautiful wife still in the room. Benjamin was getting pinker by the minute. I was able to hold my oldest son for the first time and it was marvelous.


One of my favorite pictures of all time, taken by my wife while she is still on the delivery table. Amazing.


Benjamin was eventually placed in the special care nursery alongside his brother for some preventative antibiotic treatment. We wheeled Anna back to her room as the grandparents arose from their seats in the waiting room, eager for some news. They saw us come out with no babies so they must have assumed something was amiss. We got Anna settled in the room and I went out to talk to the grandparents and give them the news. I got through the story of Benjamin's birth but as soon as I started telling about Eli's rough entrance, I broke down. Even though I knew by this point that he was breathing room air and pretty much making a full recovery, the weight of that worry and helplessness and those bricks simply became too much. I got extra big hugs from my parents and suddenly I realized how much they loved me and understood what I was feeling.

Benjamin and Eli both made outstanding strides in the nursery. The antibiotics worked wonders, Eli was breathing normally, and we eventually got to keep them in our room. The grandparents played paparazzi and smiled big smiles that must have hurt after a while.



In the end, all was well. In the end, we had a new beginning. Two sleep-deprived and frightened adults took two sleepy and adorable babies out of the hospital and into the world and a family was born.

Marking Time, or Happy Pre-Mother's Day

The boys are no more than a week or so away right now. We have been ready, or at least as ready as we'll ever be, and we are getting impatient. We both want to meet our sons very badly. I also want my wife to be able to sit, stand, sleep, and move comfortably again. I'm damn proud of her for quite literally bearing the burden of growing our children.

Three moms-to-be at three different stages of pregnancy.

She has been an amazing trooper through this pregnancy, putting up with stares from strangers, swollen ankles, disrupted sleeping, and most recently being housebound these last couple of weeks as the OB said her belly is too big to safely be behind the wheel.

Gram Wicks

 She has been careful about what she eats and drinks. Every decision she has made regarding our boys (baby gear, birth plans, feeding options, whatever) was chosen to give our kids every opportunity to be healthy and happy. Mothers do this the world over daily without complaint or question, but now that it is about to take over my entire world, it seems I am just now appreciating it fully. I am thankful that my own mother did this for me and my sisters, and that my wife's mother did the same for her and her brother. We have two excellent models on which to base our own parenting.

Mother Miller and my lovely wife

Gram Vanderkolk and yours truly

Grandma Miller and my father-in-law

Therefore any screw-ups, paste-eating, and running with scissors can be blamed directly on the grandparents.

 Happy mother's day, Mom

Happy Mother's Day to all of the women in our families who have carried, birthed, and raised us. Thank you for loving us even when you didn't necessarily like us.

Now it's personal

(Yes, we took the month of March off. We were...busy.)

We are mere weeks away (hopefully) from welcoming Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum into the world with open arms and we have been bizzay. We've moved into a wonderful little rental house with an astounding view and lots of storage space. We bought a minivan that once smelled like leftover Korean food but now just smells like industrial cleaner. Behold.

Dead sexy, no? And the van ain't too bad either.

Also, there have been job interviews, baby classes, doctor appointments, and one long ordeal of trying to sell a house.

The nursery has been set up beautifully by Mama Bear and we can't wait to fill it with wee ones. Except now we have an infestation of carpenter ants in that room. Never seen them? They look like this:

I'm not one to be grossed out by the creepy crawly things of this world, but something about the idea of these suckers taking over the nursery triggered a manly "protect my kids" reflex. I vacuumed up scores of them with a vengeance. I was like Rambo with an upright canister vacuum flamethrower. A grim half-smile crept across my face as I felt each one go "thoomp" into the hose. A tiny voice in my head said "why are you reveling in the destruction of these harmless ants?" To which I replied, "They drew first blood."

Regardless of my bravado, these things will likely have to be taken care of properly by an exterminator. Anybody with any experience of dealing with carpenter ants before? How did it go?