All Things Elia

Since the Independent has folded the question I have been asked the most, outside of 1) when will/will it, start up again, and 2) can I find your column anywhere else, is; how are things with the new baby.

I never mind pausing to fill old Indy readers in on the latest regarding my family. I love chatting about my kids. Who doesn't? About the other two questions? I often tell them I'm looking into it.

Our daughter Elia Blair (or Elliot, as my mother-in-law has called her when the name temporarily escapes her name-cluttered mind) was born three days early, via cesarean section, on July 16th . Weighing in at 8pds 60z she seemed so tiny, especially when compared to our first born who had weighed almost 11pds at birth and was ready to push up and roll over from the get go.
We weren’t sure if Blair would make the early delivery time as he wasn’t scheduled to return from Alberta until the 18th-the day I was originally scheduled for surgery-but the baby kept registering a low heart rate and my doctor wasn’t prepared to wait. Blair arrived at our outport home just as I was heading out to drive myself to the hospital. The surgery wasn’t until the next morning but because of the low heart rate and my distance from the hospital I had to go the day before and spend the night.
Blair and Brody were in the hospital room as I was wheeled out for surgery the next morning. Blair left to scrub-up so he could accompany me in the O.R. and Brody stayed back in the room, immersed in the many breast-feeding videos-especially the one titled Breast is Best. We knew he would be contentedly occupied.
Tragically (or not) I had forgotten all about the horror that accompanies a spinal. By the time I reached the C-Section stage on Brody 11 years ago I had been given every drug imaginable, a week had passed and I had simply been through so much that recalling the details of something so close to the end of the process was impossible. I seemed to remember it being a needle in the back, but it seemed so minor at the time in comparison to everything else. I was rolled into OR stone cold sober this time around and lets just say I damn near died when I realized what the doctor was doing. To the hospitals credit the anesthesiologist (God love him, he was a doll and a half and a half again over) had tried to tell me about the process the evening before the surgery but I, being Little Miss I-Know-Everything-Been-Here-Before, told him I had no questions and we didn’t need to go there. He had me sign some papers, gave me a hug and a kiss (yes, he was that sweet) and left.
I gave him a bit of a hard time in the OR but he-and the very firm, forceful-you ain’t getting’-no-kisses-from-us-til-you-cooperate nurses finally calmed me down enough for him to insert the needle. I was drugged and before long, quite comfortable numb.
At 9:11 our daughter was delivered. She was poked in front of my face for a few moments then rushed off-with Blair tight behind, to meet her big brother.
Things were great right from the start. Elia took right to the breast, and (thank God) she slept well. Blair had to return to Alberta a week later so the fact that she went down for the night at seven and didn’t stir until around 3:30 was a blessing. She never slept much in the day, but that worked out quite well and before long I was back into our summer routine. Brody didn’t miss much in the way of beach days. I think she was the youngest to ever grace the beaches of both Salmon Cove in Trinity Bay and Golden Sands in Fortune Bay.
Elia remained a doll until November 10th. I was in town doing interviews for a piece I was working on for The Herald and my sister-in-law and brother-in-law were babysitting for a few hours. She gave them a bit of a hard time, which was odd for her as she usually settled quite comfortable with family. The next morning we realized why-she had two teeth where only gums had been. Nights haven’t been that great since and while she has (on occasion) gone back to her old schedule, she usually wakes for a feed and a cuddle about every three hours throughout the night. She still doesn’t sleep much throughout the day. She is usually quite pleasant and easy going or as I like to say, pleasantly plump. And plump she is. At her four month check-up she weighed in at a whopping 21 pounds.
Life is certainly different yet delightful. Being covered in baby droll and the occasional milky spit-up hasn’t been that hard to adjust to and Blair, when he’s home, is quite an involved father. If he had a set of tits he’d feed her but beyond that there isn’t anything he won’t do. And Brody has taken to being a big brother with amazing ease. He loves his little sister and only stresses out when she cries and fusses during the occasional car ride. It’s funny-she can only handle a one-way drive. If we drive three hours to the city she’s fine the entire time, but we better be staying put once we get there-or else! The ride to Marystown (an hour) is always pleasant but the ride back is usually a nightmare and dealing with a fussy infant in a confined space is rather hard on even the most steady nerved individual. “If we get her nutered will she be any better?” Brody asked on one particularly challenging car ride home, referring to the imminent de-nutting of his quite hyper and sometime difficult to control puppy.
I told him I’d look into it.