Grammy

My Grammy has taken a sudden turn for the worse.

it happened about a month ago, actually, but nobody told me until after the baby was born, and clearly, I've had things to deal with that have precluded my full involvement. She had what they first suspected was a bad drug reaction, then thought was possibly a stroke, which resulted in a break with reality, some paranoia, and strange delusions.

Unfortunately, as things have progressed, the diagnosis has been changed, with relative certainty, to "sudden-onset Alzheimer's." My dear Grammy, who in February (at 93) had a keen mind and all her wits about her, has lost it pretty comprehensively; she believes God is speaking to her. The other symptoms of her decline are too numerous and distressing to list, but it is clear that she is no longer connected to reality in any substantive way. My Aunt K, with whom she had been living until this happened, has found a good nursing home for her where she can be watched around the clock, and Grammy, oddly, seems happy. Apparently she believes she's been cured of all her ailments, that she has load of money to give away, that all her children can come live with her now, and she can give everyone extravagant presents.

It's interesting to hear how this has affected her - my other grandmother passed away after a long slow decline from Alzheimer's, and her early delusional issues were far more paranoid and angry. But she was a more suspicious and negative person, in general, though she had her own virtues, and it is amazing to think that my Grammy - who is the most generous, giving, positive, forgiving, Christian woman I know - is still manifesting her own inherent outlook, despite the disease. She is experiencing miracles, as she sees it - she happily tells anyone who will listen that she is cured, that she has so much energy now, that God is speaking to her, that she can see in the dark because she is turning into a cat. I love that even in illness she is still fundamentally about giving, about others, about miracles and faith.

Now, if God were to speak to anyone I know, it would certainly be my Grammy, who has been a stellar advocate for Him in both word and deed her entire life. But it's pretty unlikely. And she does seem to have more energy, but she's losing weight again - and she was skin and bones to begin with. My mother says she's just burning herself up with all the new activity, not recognizing her body's limits. As for seeing in the dark, well, she had a bad fall last week wandering around in the middle of the night without turning on the lights. Much as I wish for miracles for her, these are mere delusions. I am grateful, however, that she is so happy with them. There are worse ways to go out.

She can still recognize all of us, and I need to go take the baby to visit her before that, too is gone (rapid onset also seems to indicate rapid decline, unfortunately), since she was so looking forward to his arrival. I am planning to go down next weekend. But I am afraid, and in some ways I would almost rather not go. I'm afraid that she won't be my Grammy, the one I've loved all my life. I'm afraid to know her like this, to remember her like this. But I'm going anyway, because I love her.

I'm not sure what else to say about this. Sad. Afraid. Sticking my head in the sand for all I am worth. Going to Los Angeles. Think good thoughts for us all.

Opportunity to effect change

Bitch, Ph.D's Heroine of the Week is Cecilia Fire Thunder, the President of the Oglala Sioux in South Dakota. Ms. Fire Thunder declared, after the South Dakota legislature passed a law outlawing abortion in that state,

“I will personally establish a Planned Parenthood clinic on my own land which is within the boundaries of the Pine Ridge Reservation where the State of South Dakota has absolutely no jurisdiction.”

My longtime online acquaintance Kathrynt called Ms. Fire Thunder and confirmed this story, and got an address to which one can send donations and letters of support. Kathrynt is a committed liberal feminist, and I vouch for her - the information is for real. Whether or not you wish to donate is up to you - Pine Ridge has a history of various financial issues, which you can read about by Googling Ms. Fire Thunder - but I'm certainly going to do so (Bitch has more information on Pine Ridge in her post, too). If you're not inclined or able to donate, a letter of support costs only $.37 - cheap at twice the price, thanks to federal subsidies of the US Postal Service.

Oglala Sioux Tribe
ATTN: President Fire Thunder
P. O. Box 2070
Pine Ridge, SD 57770

or

ATTN: PRESIDENT FIRE THUNDER
PO BOX 990
Martin, SD 57751

Enclose a letter voicing your support and/or explaining the purpose of the donation. The Pine Ridge Res is not rich (no res I've ever heard of is), so do consider donating funds directly to the tribe as well as specifically for this effort.

For donations specifically for the Planned Parenthood clinic, make checks out to OST Planned Parenthood Cecelia Fire Thunder. General donations may be made out to the Oglala Sioux Tribe.

As of right now, there is no paypal option, but I'll post one if it becomes available.

Squidbits

Thanks to all of you who have sent emails or left comments with kind words and congratulations. It is wonderful to know that you are all so excited for us! Speaking of leaving comments, Dutch (of the excellent sweet juniper!) brought to my attention that the comment links (which looked perfectly normal in Safari) were rendering as illegible squiggles in IE. I don't have IE on my Mac, but I replicated and then eliminated the problem in Firefox, and hopefully that will do it for those of you still using the evil empire's browser as well. :)

Most of my typing these days is done one-handed, so entries will be less frequent, but I wanted to update with a few bits and pieces from the first few weeks of parenthood.



On sleep deprivation: Little did I realize, when going to school for my degrees and taking night classes for my various hobbies, that the most valuable skill I could cultivate as an adult would be an ability to nap deeply and on cue. It's not that the Squid is a fussy baby - far from it, though he's been a bit gassy lately - it's that it takes me anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to fall asleep. My brain won't shut down - it races on and on, thinking about things I don't even care about, song lyrics and embarassing stuff I said in my twenties and minor add-ons to my to-do list...and then just as I'm starting to drift off, the baby wakes up. My anxiety about this creates even more difficulties, as I tend to lay in the dark, worrying that I won't fall asleep in time to get any rest and tensing at the slightest noise that might be a sign that the Squid is waking. I've always needed more sleep than anyone else I know, and so this is hitting me pretty hard, despite the fact that Himself takes at least one feeding each day to let me get a solid several-hour block.

Firsts: This weekend was the Squid's first bath. Who knew bathing such a small creature could take two adults, five towels, and wet down the entire bathroom? Wow. While I am positively dying to post the photo of him naked and squalling in the sink, my better internet sense prevails - no, we do not post naked pictures of our children online, doyee - and so I can give you only these:




On photos: My friend S (who also sent a package of bath things last week - perfect timing, thanks, S!) wrote to ask if the Squid was just unusually photogenic or whether we'd caught him at a good time. While I of course believe him to be the world's most gorgeous baby, I think the quality of the baby pictures has more to do with Himself's photography skills and perseverance. Imagine, if you will, two grown men with huge professional-looking cameras flashing away at the squid as one woman holds the backdrop sheet up and another positions the baby when he starts to slump. That was the ten-minute post-bath photo session that resulted in the be-robed photo above, and it's not atypical. Next thing you know he'll have his own wardrobe consultant and makeup artist. At least he's, um, well-documented!

Nota bene, bebe:
Breastfeeding strategies that do not work

• Serenading the nipple with baby noises while farting
  
• Biting the nipple
  
• Screaming at the nipple
  
• Pawing at the nipple with your hands
  
• Eating your hands instead of the nipple
  
• Idly mouthing the nipple while looking cheeky and bright-eyed
  
• Looking expectantly at the nipple and waiting for the milk to just happen
  
• Falling asleep on the nipple.

If it is your intent or desire to do any of the above rather than, say, eating, it is entirely unfair of you to make hungry baby face at me or look wounded when I put the boob away.

Chocolate chip cookie recipe

I'm baking these today to satisfy my insane craving for baked sweets and to take to the doctor and nurses who attended at the birth as a thank-you. One recipe of this makes a lot of cookies, so be sure you have friends to share them with!

Best Chocolate Chip Cookies

Buttery, crisp on the edges and soft inside, sweet.

Modified from Martha Stewart's Holiday Baking 2003 edition. She uses more flour and puts in toffee chips and peanuts. Mine are better, IMNSHO.

Preheat oven to 350° F

___________

On a sheet of newspaper, sift:

• 3.5 C all-purpose flour
  
• 2 t baking soda
  
• 3/4 t salt

In a large bowl, cream:

• 3 sticks butter (1.5 cups)
  
• 2/3 C packed light brown sugar
  
• 1 C granulated sugar

until fluffy, and add:

• 2 large eggs
  
• 1 t vanilla

Combine with dry ingredients and mix (I use an electric beater for all creaming, blending, mixing, etc.)

Add chocolate chips of your choice (I like the mini chips best) and stir in thoroughly.

________

1. Form dough into small (2 T, or 1.25 inch diameter) balls and place approximately 12 to a sheet. Press them slightly flat with the palm of your hand.
   
2. If not using nonstick sheets, you should put some baking parchment down to ensure your cookies don't stick.
   
3. Bake for 12-14 minutes and allow to cool slightly before removing from sheet.

Birth story

The birth story is up - it's quite detailed, and contains a lot more information than some people might be comfortable with; I'd recommend skipping it unless you have either given birth/plan on giving birth yourself, or have assisted/plan on assisting at a birth in the future.

Squiddown!

Ray Bueno [Ourlast] was born at 18:32 Thursday, March 2, 2006. He weighed 6 pounds, 13 ounces (3.1 kilos) at birth, and was 19.5 inches (49.53 cm) long. We're home from the hospital and both of us continue to do well.

I have so many things to say about the labor and delivery (I want to tell you the story about how I almost had a baby in my sleep) and about coming home (and how I am not reading my email right now because I checked it and saw all the things I'd been copied on from work and promptly had a total crying meltdown) and about what good care Himself took and is taking of me and of both of us, and about Ray (who needs a pseudonym for future blogging purposes - the Fishlet?) and how wonderful he is. But I really, really need to get some sleep, and so for now I will only say:

When he cries he sounds like the unholy union of a cat and a duck being run over by a clown car - sort of yowly and quacking at the same time, with a funny little honk thrown in. If I have gotten any reasonable amount of sleep and am not having a hormonal surge, this is actually quite funny; the rest of the time it is the most unimaginably distressing thing I have ever heard.

Thanks to all who sent love and good wishes. Online life will resume once we have any kind of handle on anything, which could take a while.