the mathewes family

Ruth Mathewes was born December 7, 2007 at 11 AM. 5 lbs, 12 oz., 19" long. Dark hair and dark blue eyes--sure to change!

Everything started around 1 AM. Stephen and I hadn't been in bed that long, and suddenly I realized that my contractions were starting to feel a little less like tightening and a little more like menstrual cramps. They were coming quickly, and so after a few came and went, I woke up Stephen and asked him to start timing them.

5 minutes apart, at least a minute long, they continued steadily while we lay there. We got up, puttered around for a bit. We snacked on cheese and crackers and talked between contractions. It was exciting, but we didn't want to jump in the car right away if it was a false alarm. So Steve put on some Monty Python, and I sat squatted in front of the television surrounded by pillows.

After awhile, we thought it would be good if we got in the shower--the hot water would help me relax and maybe even speed things along. So Steve ran the water and in we went--it was delightful, and definitely helped. We dried off and kept watching TV until we decided, "This is probably it."

A call to the doctor confirmed that it yes, indeed it was time to go, and so we packed up the car, called our friend Amy (who was coming to assist as a doula), and headed over.

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@ February 5, 2008 7:30 PM

Ruthie is asleep in a baby sling, wrapped tightly next to my chest. It's how she sleeps best.

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@ April 3, 2008 1:28 PM

After a few weeks of what felt like blissful happy social engagement, Ruu seems to have reverted to her prior stage of avoiding eye contact (while eagerly looking at every interesting thing in sight), smiling less, sleeping more erratically, and being generally more cranky.

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@ April 18, 2008 10:10 PM

The past few days have been a bit of a strain. Ruthie only wakes up once (around 2 AM) for her nightly feeding, and so logically (or so I tell myself), I should be on the gravy train. Yet in the back of my mind mumbles the suspicion that she's drinking more at each feeding, and therefore taking a lot more of my energy. The reason? I'm inexplicably hungry ALL THE TIME (I've already had three full meals today, as of 4 PM), and RIDICULOUSLY TIRED (though I'm getting fairly decent stretches of sleep at night).

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@ May 21, 2008 8:08 PM

It's gotten to the point where I'm not sure what constitutes Ruth News anymore, since everything she does FASCINATES me. All I know for absolute certainty is this: I love my daughter, deeply and completely.

There's really nothing like this romance and intimacy. Like marriage, it's a unique bond formed by hormones, time, will, and emotions. There is so much touch, so many hours, and so much effort put into the relationship that I can't help myself: I'll jump in front of a train for her.

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@ May 28, 2008 4:10 PM

It's been quite awhile since I've written about Ruth, so here I go!

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@ July 10, 2008 9:19 PM

Tomorrow, I start teaching photography at Park Camps. It's a day camp, and the session I teach will last for three weeks. While I'm teaching, I have to leave Ruth behind.

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@ July 13, 2008 4:26 PM

Ruth turns one today.

A year ago, I became a first-time mom. A squealing little five pound bundle was handed to me, and I got lost in a whole new world.

Today, Ruth turns one. She's walking, jabbering, interacting, giggling--her own little miracle of a person.

Today I am lucky to be her mom. I am lucky to have her in my life. Who knows what other worlds-within-persons I may get to meet as time goes on.

The road ahead is hard but beautiful and full of love.

Ruth, happy birthday!

@ December 7, 2008 11:41 AM

More teeth are in the works. New techniques are developing for fighting naps and sleep. Words are beginning to form. Feedings are getting easy, if messy, since Ruth often insists on feeding herself. The appetite is growing, and she is always in need of an audience.

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@ January 10, 2009 4:14 PM

What a difference a good night's sleep makes.

The biggest drama of our lives in the past year has always been sleep. Getting Ruth to sleep through the night, at its various stages, has had its triumphs and setbacks. Now that she's 13 months old, it's reaching a tenuous place; right between genuine psychological need, and the beginning stages of--dare I say it--brattyness.

Nights in which I wake up once (due to pregnancy thirst), or twice (just listening to a whimper or two) are still common. Sometimes, however, we are plagued with nights of crying, crying, and crying. We're still out on the futon in the living room most nights; it seems as though Ruth has a sixth sense for when we're in the bedroom (which is when she can persist in getting us up).

It feels cruel to leave her there. Her frantic voice still breaks my heart. But what I think I've learned is my waffling & heartsickness have probably made things more confusing and complicated for her. It's hard to push my conflicted feelings away and be consistent.

Regardless, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. As Meg counseled me last night, she won't be 13 and still waking up at night.

The coming year will be a challenge; I imagine that in the first three months after #2 comes along, I'll feel even more a zombie than I did after Ruth arrived. But at least I'm experienced at it. All I've got to do is put a few folks on speed dial for those days when I'm barely human and losing it.

Maybe I'll publish a book after all my children are grown. I'll call it Adventures in Sleep: One Bleary-Eyed Mom's Epic Story.

@ January 13, 2009 10:48 AM

When it comes to how tidy the house is, I'm definitely a lot more laid back now than I was about six months ago.

That's not saying much, though.

Living in a one-bedroom apartment means that if anything is out of place, it is an intrusion. Anything unnecessary, unused, or uncared for sticks out like a sore thumb. When things aren't put away, I feel as though a parallel messy universe exists in my brain; things must be tidy in order for me to think straight!

However, I'm slowly but surely creating a mental filter for toys. Ruth's toys, I tell myself, are not my mess, because they are generated by her business. Ruth's business is that of play and discovery, and my businesses is that of photography, and running the home. They both generate different sorts of messes: mine on my hard drive and in the kitchen, hers, well, nearly everywhere else.

So each morning, Ruth's business creates a minefield all around the apartment (except the kitchen and bathroom, which I quarantine with baby gates and feel should be treated as Different Adult Spaces in which Necessary Vital Things must occur and so Children's Messes Should Not Be In There. The bedroom? Trashed. The living room? Destroyed.

Every night, after Ruth goes to bed, I gather up all the toys, and put them all into a large laundry basket I have in the living room. I barely bother to sort them nowadays, reserving that as a once-in-awhile kind of activity. It usually happens when I realize that Ruth can't put her puzzles together because all the pieces have sunk back to the bottom of the basket where she can't reach.

Cute Ikea toy organizers where things are labeled? Please, I'm saving that for grade school when she can actually read or recognize a picture label.

It is nice to think that in less than a decade, I will be able to communicate to my child that it is important to clean up after one's self. We'll see how that goes.

@ January 17, 2009 9:10 AM

Nursing is on the rise. Towards the end of December, we were down to once a day. Today, it's back up to three or four. I'm not too nervous about it; I will get nervous, however, if she doesn't decide to stop on her own soon. I'm all for breastfeeding, don't get me wrong, but tandem nursing is not something I'll be up for right after moving to a new place.

With the rise of nursing is the rise of mommy-exclusivity. Holding, playing, eating, bathing, bedtime; it's all for mommy to do. This makes it painful, sometimes, when Steve takes his turn with her. She whimpers for me, but goes along with it. Sometimes, though, she cries. I know that this, like other clingy phases, will pass soon, and she'll be on to something new. I may miss it sometime; she'll wave a cheery goodbye without looking back, and I'll long for the day when she tentatively clung to my legs.

@ January 25, 2009 3:15 PM

That must be a weird subject line for y'all to see, but here's why...

This morning, while playing with crayons and paper in the living room, Ruth got a paper cut on her toe. It bled pretty badly (though she didn't care), so I ran to get some antibacterial ointment, a cotton swab, a band-aid and a pair of socks (so the band-aid would stay on her toe). As I wrestled with her to get the band-aid on and all, she picked up the cotton swab, and proceeded to try to stick it in her ear.

She must have figured out that we use those safety cotton swabs for her ears in the bath, and so that's what they're for! Of course, she has no idea that sticking them in her ear is a bad idea, so no cotton swabs for her anywhere anytime ever!

Is a 14-month old supposed to know all this, or am I legitimately astounded?

Also, we've taken the knobs off the stove, since she can reach and turn them now. I'm in the habit of getting one out of the drawer, turning on the burner, then taking it off again and setting it on the counter so Ruth can't fiddle with the stovetop. Yesterday I knocked one over on the floor, and Ruth proceeded to pick it up and try to put it back on the stove so she could turn it. Luckily she's not coordinated enough to actually get the knob back on.

This girl is dangerous!

@ February 6, 2009 8:44 AM

Ruth freaked me out yesterday--a high fever, lethargy, rapid breathing... needless to say I made an emergency visit to the pediatrician, who told me to give her ibuprofen and keep an eye on her, calling should complications arise. She perked up in the evening, which put me at ease. Then, she woke in the middle of the night burning up and crying hysterically, which brought me back down into Worry Town.

Today, she's been consistently clingy, moody, whiny, tired, fussy, all that wonderful stuff. She eats, but in a limited amount, and drinks well. I think she'll be on the mend tomorrow, but I'm not sure my sanity can stand another day of velcro baby. I've gotten as near to zero things accomplished as ever, and I have clients waiting for me. Of course, I can't really hire a babysitter for a sick child; why would I want the babysitter to spread germs to all the other kids?

I'm hanging in there; it's nice that Steve comes home and immediately knows I've had a long day. I just wish that Ruth were okay with giving me a break. The sicker she is, the more mommy-centric she gets, which eats at Steve's morale and exhausts me, of course.

But those back rubs sure do help.

@ February 18, 2009 6:10 PM

It's official: my daughter is now officially All Grown Up. Over a week ago, she stopped nursing, cold turkey.

I breastfed her nearly exclusively for the first 6 months of her life, and never expected it all to last as long as 14 months. I'm not sure what I expected, honestly. My big plan was that if she could ask for it with words, we'd stop.

That never happened. Towards the end, she was nursing just once a day, in the mornings. And what people have told me is true: in spite of the headaches that came with it, I kind of miss it now.

She really is a totally different kid now!

@ March 4, 2009 9:53 AM

I just bought a harness for my toddler.

My reasons? Plenty. Ruth has absolutely no fear, the propensity to run, a love of exploration, an unfettered determination. She simply does not care how far away she gets from me, will not listen to my verbal or physical commands, and will put herself into physical danger without a thought. One day I caught her standing on her father's desk, four feet above the floor. In the mall, she tried to go up the down escalator while I was running after her. She'll think nothing of trying to jump off a series of concrete steps, either.

I can chase and command her a dozen times over (believe me, I've counted), and it won't make a lick of difference. At 15 months, both "time-outs" and even a light slap on the hand (if the infraction involves fire or electricity) aren't guaranteed to curb her enthusiasm for discovery.

I never made the decision that I wouldn't ever use a harness or leash under any circumstance. I vaguely remember being harnessed as a child, and distinctly remember that my brother Kevin was harnessed whenever we went to the grocery store with my mother, and on other public outing occasions.

(Kevin was notorious for disappearing and hiding in department stores, too. You never really knew what he was going to think up next. In one famous family episode, he took off on his tricycle a few blocks down our street to "look for me," while I was visiting a friend's house. That was the only time I ever heard my mother swear.)

As a result of this, using a harness on a child was a normal possibility for my future. I don't feel that using a harness means you're treating the child like an animal. Most of all, using one does not mean that you're too lazy to parent your child.

Therefore when I went searching for a toddler harness (or leash), I found myself indignant and surprised at the negative reactions that some parents have to them. I got angry, even, and occasionally scoffed out loud.

I realize that with regard to many parenting issues, you're going to find people at extremes; debate can be productive and thought-provoking. Sharing stories, pros, and cons can help people come to their own decisions on an issue. I just didn't think this was an issue where you would find that much debate. For me, it's an "Well, if you need it," issue, to be dismissed with a shrug.

So if any of these vehement anti-leash anti-harness parents confront me in public about it, that's what I'll do.

I don't plan on using it all the time. She's only one kid, and there are plenty of times when the stroller is tolerable, or when I can chase after her. She's gotten wise to being careful stairs, after much instruction and one incident of falling. Certainly there will come a day when everything I'm trying to do will click.

The days will also come when I am too large and pregnant, or too encumbered by a newborn and all his gear, that I just won't be able to chase her down if she tries to run into traffic, or some other horrifying scenario.

And that's why it's okay to harness your toddler.

@ March 16, 2009 12:09 PM

@ March 27, 2009 7:00 AM

Ruth: it's hard to know where to start.

The little munchkin is growing rapidly (don't they always?). She's still small for her age, according to those doctor's charts, but boy, is she strong and coordinated. She walks and runs with assurance, and even attempts a jump or two. She's brave, but a little on the shy side, preferring to observe kids at a safe distance before making friends.

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@ May 22, 2009 7:00 AM

Ruth is quite the chatterbox. She looks you in the eye, points and gestures, and even laughs at things she thinks are silly or jokes. I can't understand a word she's saying, but she is saying words that resemble other words, like "Hi!" and "baby" and "daddy." Her favorite almost-word is something that resembles "that," only the "th" is more like a "d" and the "t" at the end is more like an "s". "Dhats," is more like it, if I'd have to spell it.

She's also almost jumping... as in, she does occasionally launch herself off the ground. Always a climber, I find her on the kitchen table and ambitiously exploring new territories. I have a feeling that the talking and jumping will come at the same time, and we'll have our hands even more full than they are already.

In Other News

We've decided that Tapeworm (as we've affectionately called him) will be named Lucas. Middle names are up for grabs. Steve has always wanted to name one of his future sons Lucas, and we figured that since you never know what's going to be thrown at you, we might as well name this one Lucas. It's funny how less opinionated I am about naming the second child than I was the first, at least, I feel more at ease letting Steve "get" the name. Perhaps I'll be picky with the third, I don't know! Maybe I have too much else to care about!

I do believe that names are important, but I'm not going to wrench myself over what to name our children. We'll go for nice names that we like, and that's that.

Work Work Work

Remaining before my self-imposed maternity leave: 3 weddings, 2 engagement portraits, 1 family session, and 1 glamor/girly session. It's a lot of work, but I'm grateful to be over the halfway point of my weddings season. I still have a lot of photo editing to do, as well as marketing and planning for next year, but I think that will have to wait until my "leave" starts. The winter will be a good time to get myself together and prep for an amazing 2010 season. Inquiries are up for me now, and I've been asked to quote three different destination weddings (never been asked before!).

And Prayer, Please

We have a lot to do before we move; please cover it in prayer for us.

@ June 13, 2009 8:00 PM

I'm officially a mom of two. I'm outnumbered when alone. There's one for each of us when Steve is by my side.

I'm also the parent of a willful toddler (but what toddler isn't willful, really?).

Lucas is--to be horribly cliche--his own person. He's not at all what I remember Ruthie being like. She clung to me like a burr to a wool sweater. She needed me to co-sleep and nurse her to dreamland every night. She woke me every two hours for the first three months of her life.

In the past two nights (I'll say it though I don't want to jinx it), Lucas has let me sleep for 5 hour chunks of time. FIVE HOURS, I tell you. And he readily sleeps by himself in the baby swing. It's utterly astounding.

He's a hungry kid; during the day he'll nurse every 2-3 hours. Every now and again cry to be held. Since he's a boy, I've had to look out for the pee fountain at diaper changes. Boy, does he like to fill his pants, too.

He's a big kid; nearly two pounds larger than Ruth at birth (5lbs 12oz vs. 7lbs 8oz), and just a few days ago weighed in at 8lbs 3oz--already gaining weight in the first week.

We gave him his first bath yesterday. He is one week old.

...

Ruth seems okay with him being around. She's fascinated. She won't leave him alone. She likes to put toys and extra binkies in his swing with him. She likes to shake the swing to rock him (which we discourage, of course), and tries to sit in the swing like he does when he's not there (which we also discourage, since she'll break it). She asks to hold him. She tries to pick him up herself.

But she's also started throwing tantrums, and had a few tough nights going to bed. She's a good girl, very obedient, and normally a dream at bedtime and naptime. We've had consistency, living at Steve's parents' house. In about a week we'll throw all that consistency out the window and fly to Boston. Hopefully she won't be too disoriented.

She's going to really miss her grandparents, Papa and Mamou. I'm going to miss them, too, because watching her play and engage with them is one of my favorite things to do.

...

Soon, I'll write his birth story, as well as a general reflection on all the crazy stuff that's happened to us since July.

P.S. See more photos of Lucas here.

@ September 4, 2009 9:01 PM

Lucas nestled in my arms this afternoon, nursing quietly in between fits of talkativeness and enthusiastic whapping of various toys. I held his left arm--thick and padded--in my hand. I thought about the miniature skeleton underneath it, so delicate and sturdy at the same time.

Then, I noticed it--his scar.

A few weeks ago, we discovered that Lucas was strong enough to open the oven door entirely on his own. We learned it the hard way. Yes, he cried, but not nearly as much as his injury warranted. An ugly scab formed in a loose crescent shape on his left forearm. As with many childhood injuries, it dissipated quickly, almost miraculously.

The skin is now pink and smooth in a plastic way, as though someone taped the scar on to his soft, delicate baby skin. I'm sure it will fade easily over time. I may grow to miss the scar, even, because it symbolizes my boy's strength and curiosity.

I hope he's learned his lesson about ovens, though.

@ August 31, 2010 9:38 PM

I'm singing Ruth to bed. I've been doing that ever since she was born. She's an anxious girl, nervous about going to sleep on her own. I don't blame her. She's always been small for her age, and I'd like to think that made her feisty.

The sound of my voice stops her from talking. It helps her calm down enough to close her eyes. Lately, because she's scared to lie down, I tell her that when I sing, she can lie down, because it makes "all the bad stuff go away."

Wouldn't it be great if I really had that magical power, eh?

Lucas, however, must be held and cuddled to bed. I don't think the singing matters as much for him. For him, it's all about touch and closeness; knowing you're near through the electricity of contact.

Lucas goes to bed much more easily than Ruth now, but he's a lighter sleeper. Go figure. I can sit next to Ruth and yell her name, and she won't budge.

What a pair.

@ September 1, 2010 8:23 PM

Ruth had her first day of preschool yesterday. The dropoff went rather smoothly. Contrary to stories I had heard about other mothers, I didn't get emotional when I dropped her off. Rather, I found myself waxing sentimental when I saw Steve pull up to our parking space, and pull a sleepy toddler out of the car. She's my big girl now, I thought.

It's a large change in the life of a parent when your child starts having experiences without you around. Of course, that's what growing up entails--more independence. To me, it's frightening and exhilarating to think of all the things that my children will do, say, explore, and more, without me. They're vulnerable, but you have to let go in order to let them learn, and to let your heart stretch a little bit too.

In a way, it's a good thing that human dependence lasts for comparatively long; I don't think parents are built for a mere six week infant-to-adolescent transition, like a kitten. However much we long for our kids to think for themselves, we're just as enthralled with their neediness as they are with us.

None of these thoughts are new, of course. There's nothing new under the sun. But she's my first, and so with her, so much of life is new, like the first sounds of birds in the morning. The changes she goes through are like whiffs of seasons in the air. Tonight I dressed her brother in a red sleeper she wore a year ago. Has it been that long?

@ September 15, 2010 8:42 PM