Nine-month wellness check

Hey baby love,

Early yesterday morning we went to the doctor's office for your nine-month wellness check. Here are your new specs:

Height: 73.7cm (29"), which puts you in the 90th percentile.
Weight: 8kg, which puts you in the 50th percentile.

You are still tall, slim, and strong as a bull. You got vaccinated for Polio and Hepatitis B. The nurse also punctured your heel to draw blood for routine testing.

We had more pleasant plans for the afternoon: Go for a run all the way to the other side of town, and walk back half way to have lunch at Whole Foods. Watch the birds and the people in the outside seating area as you dip your feet in the stream. When done, walk back home. You love sitting there with your feet in the water, rubbing against the little stones. You lean forward, reach your hand in, pick one stone after another, and bring each to your mouth. And each time I say "No Zoe. Yuck. Yuck."

Right when we finished running and started strolling back, your doctor called, worried. Your test results were not good. Multiple numbers were low, indicating a serious problem. She said she wanted to re-run the test using traditional methods, because the heel puncture sometimes messed up the sample. This needed to be done today, and we were quite a ways from home. By the time you read this, I will be old and frail, and it will be hard to believe, but know that your mom runs like a gazelle. I had one goal - to get you in the car and to the laboratory. So I texted Papa and started running back home. We drove to the nearest lab, with a single employee attending the desk AND doing the blood work. She switched to Texan accent for the right patient.

My little Zoe so tiny and helpless. You set on my lap in the special chair. I crossed my legs around yours to restrain you from kicking, and gave you a bear hug to control your upper body. The nurse made a tourniquet around your tiny arm to pop the vein out, and pushed in the unexpected needle. It hurt. No blood came out so she started moving the needle inside your arm to find the right spot. It hurt us all to watch, and finally the tube started filling.

Now the waiting started. The doctor ordered express results and asked the lab to notify her on her cell phone, lest the results came out after she left the office. We went to Whole Foods. I made a little food box for us to share, with items you like to eat - berries, pineapples, cheese, green beans. We also had a slice of bread, which we shared with the birds. It made me happy to see you devour the blackberries, juice dripping down your chin. You smiled and talked to passers by as if they were old friends. Papa and I talked on the phone. It was hard to believe that an energy monster like you could be seriously sick.

Two hours passed. Doctor's office called. Your test results came back normal. I went back into the store and got a beer.

To pee or not to pee

Zoe baby,

Papa has been determined to potty train you early. I'm with him. In our time, babies weren't in diapers until they were three, four years old. By the time we were one, if not sooner, we were potty trained. It was easier for us, because our high-chairs had a built in hole, so we got lots of practice letting things out as soon as we were able to sit up.

Several weeks a go Papa showed up with a chamber pot. We put in the bathroom, facing the toilet. When we go to the toilette, sometimes we take you along and sit you on your pot, so you watch and learn as we explain to you what goes on. Sometimes we make you sit on your pot naked for a minute or two during diaper change or before a bath. In one such occasion, on April 9, you started peeing. We cheered and clapped, despite the coincidental nature of the event, so you know you did something good. But this evening, when it was time for a diaper change, Papa put you on the pot and told you to pee. You looked at us with understanding - lo and behold - and started peeing! We are not 100% sure you peed with the awareness of sitting on the pot, but it sure seemed so. With some more practice, we are hoping that soon you will be able to tell us when you need to pee, and we'll take you to your pot.

Love,
Mommy.

Where is Zoe?

Baby Zoe,

Grandma Roza returned to her home. I left work, and am taking care of you until I have another job. Being a housewife is not the future I envisioned, but having a retarded, low pay work or catching your milestones, I'll take the latter when I can. So here are some things I caught lately:

The other day, as  I was pushing your stroller around the lake, you lifted the blanket up over your face, and when I asked "Zoe, where are you?" you revealed a grinning face, followed by my exclamation "here you are!" We've been playing hide-and-seek during diaper changes, but I was surprised that you transfered the principle of the game into a different environment and actually initiated it. We played the game all the way home.

When people wave "Hello," you wave back, lifting your arm, moving your hand, and studying how your little fingers move independently. You study everything. I don't like waving "Good bye" to you, because I don't think you know the difference yet.

You have your own shelf in the kitchen cabinet. When I work in the kitchen, I open the door, you stand up, and pull all shelf contents on to the kitchen floor. You shake things and bang them against one another. I join you on the floor, and show you how different materials make different sounds. Your interest goes beyond, and you pull things from the surrounding shelves. I removed all fragile objects within your reach. Papa pointed out that you can actually reach a fragile salad bowl - you are so tall - but I'm out of available shelves.

Your goal lately has been to stand up without support. You squat, and try to pull yourself up, holding to nothing. You're very close. With a little push, you managed to stay up on the bed for a couple of seconds once. Soon you'll stand on your own and walk.