A rare break from the colic, photographic evidence

We've finally admitted that Hudson is colicky. We were hoping we were doing something wrong, that perhaps there was some way to feed him or manage his sleeping a little better, but it turns out the little guy has colic. That said, colic isn't categorical; it's a continuum, and he seems, thank heavens, to be on the less extreme end of it. It's not like we're up for hours at a time with a screaming banshee. We've been giving him some supplements that seem to help, and the doctor told us he was overeating, so we've slowed him down a little; also, we know with colic that it's just a matter of time -- probably another six weeks or so -- before he turns the corner and he finally learns what it's like to feel good all the time when he's awake.

Tonight we had a rare couple of hours when he was awake and content. When he's like that, he stares at us and makes a wide range of faces -- maybe he's trying to figure out which one of us he looks like, or perhaps just what on earth we are? -- and, as you can see in the pictures below, he likes looking at the lights, as well as pictures on the wall and out bright windows. He enjoys being in the car, too, though he gets a little fussy when we stop at traffic lights. Guess he likes soaking in the sights and bores easily! Rachel is convinced he doesn't like our dark apartment, and I think there's something to that, too; he is a lot more relaxed out in the open and in his Aunt Jessie's home (which I worry might be structurally unsound with all the friggin' windows it has; we're jealous). Anyway, he likes the great outdoors, so far, which is a great sign.

The pictures below are a little dark, I know, but I guess that iPhone thingy isn't all it's cracked up to be (oh, that's just me being jealous again). We'll put more pics up soon from Rachel's camera, taken by the pro herself.

But first, Hudson's profile pictures below reminded me of Hitchcock's logo.

A walk in the park

I've joked that Charlie is the perfect-size dog because he's too big to fit in your lap (which means I can walk him through the -- let's call it "socially diverse"? -- Pentagon City area without being eyeballed and sized up more than usual by other men), but too small to drink out of the toilet (which means Rachel doesn't have to break out a baby wipe every time Charlie licks her hello). And I've recently learned he's just right for the Pentagon City park's water fountains. I don't think many folks these days even know how to use a public park's water fountains, they've been drinking their Vitamin Waters for so long, so I wasn't worried about upsetting anyone; one may have even looked up and patted herself on the back for working a bit harder every year so that The Man could install "doggy watering stations" in her local parks.

And here's Hudson, who happens to match his stroller, holding his pacifier in like the good boy he is. Sleeping peacefully.

And here he is again, dukes up, not too pleased to have been awakened.

Surfside

We went to Surfside Friday night, one of our favorite restaurants, located in one of DC's nicest neighborhoods, up just past the Vice President's residence and Embassy Row. The food is great (I guess you could characterize it as a bit ritzier than Baja Fresh), and the rooftop deck, where you see Hudson and me, provides a fun ambiance. There are far too many pleated, salmon-colored, mid-thigh-length shorts held up by woven leather belts at this particular restaurant -- clearly a hot spot for the Georgetown types who don them -- but hey, it makes for fun people watching. I would have liked to catch a pic of one guy I saw wearing such shorts with a pair of leather loafers, sans socks; I almost reminded him that he's 23, not 63, but then I realized I'm the fashion oddball in these here parts.

Hudson seems to have finally emerged from his womb-induced coma. Though he still sleeps a lot, when he's awake, he prefers (and by that I mean he screams like a pterodactyl until one of us gets the point) to be propped up, as he is in this picture, so he can soak in the sights (though at this phase in his early development, I think that means he enjoys the bright lights and fuzzy, indecipherable shapes and colors that move just beyond his little eyeballs' capacity to truly see; in this picture, he's looking up at the flatscreen TV right above Rachel).

Heading to the pool

Not really, but Rachel wanted to try on his board shorts anyway. Clearly, they're still a little big.

Four to a couch

I'm the only one who makes it all the way through movies these days. As you can see, Charlie's taking this one in with me, but he never lasts long, either; before you know it, he's either giving himself a bath (getting primped and ready for the next of his 3-4 daily walks), or throwing a tennis ball around the house to himself -- invariably throwing his head back proudly every third or fourth toss until he makes eye contact with us, as if to say, "You can get with this, or you can get with that; you can get with this, or you can get with that ..." Sometimes we take the bait and toss it around with him, sometimes we don't. Oh, oops. Right. The point here is: Awww, cute picture of Hudson and his mom sleeping!

UPDATE: You can't see Charlie watching TV in this pic; Rach had me replace it with this one. Better angle, she tells me. Oh well. Take my word for it -- Charlie loves watching TV with us (the weirdo).

Photo session at the Casillas home

Aubrey, one of Rachel's lifelong best friends (she's in the last picture below), came out from Utah a couple weeks after Hudson was born to spend time with Rachel and help her with him. They went out to Jessie's one day, where Aubrey, a professional photographer, did a bang-up job snapping pics of Hudson with his hot mama and aunt. Oh, and Cooper; there's a pic here of Cooper with Hudson, too. Who may or may not be "hot," but I'm worried if I say either way, he might slug me the next time I come over.

First two pics are of him at one week; the rest are of Hudson at two weeks

Rachel's a pro (as in, professional photographer), as the pics below clearly demonstrate.

Hospital pop-ins

Below is a bunch of pics of folks who came to the hospital to visit Hudson. Rachel has some great ones of Jessie, who helped us through the birth, and of Jessie's mother-in-law, Jill, but I don't have those yet (as soon as I get them, I'll update this post). Otherwise, I think all are accounted for.

Merry, Conwey's awesome kid sister. Before Hudson was born, she gave Rachel a nice list of names to consider, including Jaffy, Sammy,

Cousin Jackson -- a couple of handsome devils here, no?

Cousin Hunter. I'd call him a handsome devil, too, but he's more like a handsome monster. He's not yet 16 and he's bigger than I was my senior year in high school. He'll take good care of his little cousin.

Aunt Becca! We were so glad she came out here for the summer from BYU. She's been a big help since Hudson was born.

Julie, a mutual friend of Jessie's and Rachel's. And there's Hudson, working on his Blue Steel look.

Brian was so anxious to see Hudson, he didn't mind coming all the way to the hospital knowing he would probably only be able to see him for just a few minutes in the hallway (since Rachel was asleep). I'm glad his shirt matched the painting, by the way, and you can tell he is, too.

Rob, a good friend of ours, holding Hudson; and Mike, in the background, also a good friend of ours -- perhaps an even better friend, since he at least had the decency to practice his baby-holding form before picking up Hudson.

Mike!

Hudson is here. He's finally here.

It goes without saying that Hudson's birth was an emotional experience for all three of us. Hudson of course came out crying, as if the whole affair were rather inconvenient for him. He might have tiptoed out of the womb and slept quietly till Rachel had had an hour or two to recover, if he'd known what kind of day she'd gone through to get him here. (I kid.)

Rachel's midwife sent her to the hospital around 4:00 on Thursday afternoon, July 8th, after Rachel was tested positive for the presence of amniotic fluid, which meant her water had broken. Obviously, this didn't quite happen for her like it does in the movies where they appear to rig to the actresses cans of Sprite set off by low-level explosives. Contractions started shortly after she arrived, but the midwife administered a pill to induce them further. The contractions came on strong at around 9 p.m., but really kicked into high gear shortly after midnight. She endured another five hours of these strong contractions, without an epidural, before she finally decided she'd had enough. The gods disagreed, though, since the epidural didn't set in very well; she ended up feeling the entire hour and 20 minutes of pushing before Hudson finally was born at 9:17 a.m., July 9th.

Rachel has mentioned every time she tells the story of Hudson's arrival how cool it was that the midwife told her to pull Hudson out herself. A unique experience, apparently, and one she relishes.

Rachel's sister Jessie arrived at about 5 a.m. and served as family photographer and head cheerleader throughout the process. She was a tremendously calming influence on Rachel, and I'm so happy she was there to share the experience with us. There were no stirrups on the bed, so I acted as Rachel's right stirrup, holding up a leg and intermittently cheering Rachel on and shutting my mouth through the pushes, depending on Rachel's moment-by-moment mood swings. (No hard feelings, Rachel!) In between contractions and pushes, during the 30 to 45 seconds Rachel had to relax and gear up for the next one, the nurses and midwives caught up on their lives and talked about HR stuff ("I was like, Girl, I already worked that shift, no way am I going to again!" "Did you really say that to her? Good for you!"). I came close to telling the ladies that they may have done this several thousand times, but for us, this was our first, and could they please not act like my wife was the office water cooler. But I opted instead for passive aggression: cold stares, head shaking, and really loud sighs. None of it worked; their conversations were apparently too engaging for them to take notice of the guy helping his wife give birth. Rachel said afterward that she thinks it was their way of easing the tension. Could be. The dirty looks and head shakes were my way, then, I guess. Seems to me if they were purposefully trying to do anything, it was more a redirection of the tension toward them. I think it was just them trying to get through another rote shift delivering babies. That said, Rachel loved the midwife; she talked for literally eight hours straight, which drove me bonkers -- but again, Rachel said that was helpful to her because it took her mind off the pain. Fair enough. Anyway.

When Hudson's grey, conical head popped out, his face grimacing as if in the middle of a blood-curdling cry -- one that made no sound whatsoever, as his lungs had not yet been cleared -- I myself cried. It was an overwhelming and inexplicable experience, to watch this little life of his, of ours, begin.

Below are a few pictures from the hospital.

(By the way, late afternoon, the first day of our stay in the hospital, a water main just outside burst, leaving us without running water for most of our 48-hour stay. Nurses came in periodically to pour water into our well-used toilets. Not quite a third-world birth experience, but it was rough!)

His cries were so adamant, but so quiet, too, as if released through several blankets. I didn't realize that was the case with newborns.

Resting on his mother's chest.

"Rooting." A for effort; F for execution.

Hudson and his old man.

Welcome to our little family blog

A little of this, a little of that. We'll try to stray from the mundane and focus on the fun and interesting. It's a tag-team effort: Rachel promises to take good pics, which I'll color with some text. Stay tuned for some good pics of Hudson (our three-week-old son), Charlie (our dog), and the handsome couple (that would be me and Rach) that's navigating both of them through life!