Sibs

A lot of folks ask if Hope enjoys being a big sister. We think she might.

The first day back from the hospital, I had Oscar in my lap. Hope scampered up and reached toward Oscar. My heart began to melt. She reached farther and farther toward his head. "Get the camera, Mo," I whispered, certain that Hope was responding to her biological wiring to pat the head of her little brother.

Hope inched farther still across my knee. My heart thump-a-lumped. She got closer still. My mind raced with ooey-gooey thoughts, daydreaming in fast-forward that my life from now on would be filled with sticky-sweet confectionary moments like these.

Hope's little hand almost snatched Oscar's pacifier from his mouth before I got wise.

It was a lot like that for the first few weeks. We tried to force bonding moments. Hope seemed vaguely interested that we brought home a new receptacle for binkies and bottles. She seemed to think Oscar was OK but no more so than a wooden peg or her necklace of milk jug caps.

Since then, Hope is far more cognizant of the 12-pound kid than the 90-pound dog she's spent a lifetime ignoring. When she thinks we're paying too much attention to Ozzie, Hope grabs our knees, sticks her head in our face and whines. She had a rough couple weeks with frequent crying spells that could have been attributable to sibling rivalry, the arrival of her last two molars or something else.

But she's warming to him as well. She seems to like Oscar, but quite as much as her cat, Jack. Hope pats his head. She looks at him lovingly. She gets a big smile whenever he wails in agony. We like to think it's a smile of "I've got your back, kid" rather than one of sheer sadism, but you never know.

Chatty Oscar

No, we didn't name him after Oscar Wilde. But the kid is quite the raconteur.

Two words...

Eating Machine!

The O-Man has gained two and a half pounds since his birth five weeks ago and continues to astound Joel and me with the sheer volume of milk he can put away. He's only five weeks old and he already drinks about DOUBLE what Hope drinks in one day. Granted, Hope also eats baby food and digests things slower than the typical kid but still. The little pork chop may not look like Mama but he's got her appetite. Wow.

Many people have asked how Hope is adjusting to her little brother. Aside from trying to steal Oscar's binky and bottle and being a little clingy with mom, she's done remarkably well. She even gave him a kiss -- after much prompting -- on the head the other day. But we'll really see what she thinks when Oscar is about 6-8 months old and more mobile and going after her toys. That may be a different story.

All in all, things are incredibly chaotic here but really good. Joel's awesome mom, Anita, helped us for two weeks after Oscar was born and my cool sister, Molly, came for a week after that. They were both a tremendous help and got to spend a ton of quality time with both Hope and Oscar.

In other big news, Hope graduated from the Macomb Infant Preschool Program last week with a special party that included games and train rides. I managed to keep my postpartum hormones in check but I could've easily bawled my eyes out saying goodbye to all of Hope's therapists. What amazing people. You know your kid is in good hands when the staff doesn't just teach your child from week to week like it's a job but really loves her. And in helping Hope, they really helped make us better parents too. We're going to miss them all. Thanks again, Maryann, Cheryl, Nelson, Carmella and Kathy.

Meet Oscar Bryce Kurth

Baby Boy

Baby Boy is here. Still no name yet, but everything else is hunky dory. He came at 1:08 at 6 lbs., 1 oz and 19 1/2 inches. Red hair, long arms, long legs and oh-so-fine. Big sister met him about 5 wearing her special T shirt and seemed fairly curious. Then her toys beckoned.

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He arrives...

TOMORROW! We'll keep you all posted.

Thanks so much all the love and support! You guys rock.

Bittersweet

As many of you know, Joel and I are journalists in the Detroit area. Last night, I covered a small election in some communities in and around Detroit -- little stuff like millage proposals, school district bonds, and the like. When the results came in from one city counting on a millage proposal (tax increase) to help them save their services as they struggle with major money problems -- it passed -- an elected official told me the results were bittersweet. It didn't solve their budget worries but it helped.

The word struck me: bittersweet. That's exactly how I felt the moment I found out I was expecting a boy. It felt bittersweet -- to lose a child, a baby boy, and now to be expecting another. Bittersweet.

As I approach the end of this pregnancy with all its aches, pains, and endless bathroom trips, I'm getting more and more anxious to meet this little person. I want to meet the little boy who likes "Bohemian Rhapsody" when I put headphones on my belly, who kicks the minute I pick up his sister, whose foot I've seen graze from one side to the other of my stomach, who I've dreamed of.

I can't wait to hear his voice. I never heard Will cry aloud (because of the ventilator). Ever. And while we heard Hope cry the tiniest of cries in the delivery room, Joel and I both long to hear a huge, throaty cry of "Where the heck am I?!???? Put me back!"

I've been wondering and worrying if this baby will need to go to the NICU like Will and Hope. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he'll be big enough and his lungs mature enough at 37 weeks not to need the NICU. But I'm preparing myself just in case.

So that's where we are -- 13 days away from my c-section. I'm so excited to see my little boy, to study his face, kiss his cheeks, and smell his hair. And yet a part of me is sad too, sad for the little boy whose time on this earth was far too brief, missing him like always. Bittersweet.

P.S. I apologize for the heavy post. Blame the hormones.