Day 25: Baby Takes Whaaaa??

I never gave much consideration to whether or not Cass should be a binky baby. I was vaguely aware of cons (bad teeth, higer risk for ear infections, nipple confusion), but I recently read in one of the dozen or so parenting books given to me that it's downright cruel to prevent a baby from sucking when he needs comforted. And once he "found his lungs," as they say, I was willing to shell out any amount of money in orthodontia to soothe our poor lamb.

Ryan and I tried desperately, night after night, to get him to latch on to this legendary lifesaver. He responded by spitting it across the room--repeatedly and like he meant it. He screamed and gagged and called us names.

So when Grandpa Malibu asked if he could give Cass a pacifier, I think it's about as likely as if he wanted to take him outside to shoot some hoops. I respond in kind: "You can try, but he's not going to take it." Translation: "I don't want you to think I'm being a controlling, anti-pacifier mom, because I'm not. I'm totally laid-back. But I am freakishly in sync with my son, and he hates pacifiers."

As you'll see in the photo, Cass took the pacifier. He accepted the offering on the very first try, instantly falling into a perfect state of calm.. Though a little miffed that my casserole would back-stab me like this, I was soon overjoyed by the prospect of future pacifier usage. Unfortunately (and right in step with his budding streak of rebellion), this remains an isolated episode, and he continues to vehemently reject his parent's efforts to pacify with a pacifier.

Day 18: Water Baby

We couldn't handle it anymore--all the nasty ridicule about not giving our baby a bath yet was starting to make us feel inept. Of course we have been administering sponge baths regularly on the changing table, but apparently this isn't enough for judgy-judgers. We're new parents, and we had the tubby-time jitters, okay? Plus, if you must know, the doctor said we should wait until the umbilical cord was healed.

But we quickly discovered that there was no cause for concern: Cass is a natural in the water. He loves it! We had already donned him a Champion Boob Diver, but it's obvious his diving skills extend beyond breastfeeding. Just look at him: Cass Cooley, hands outstretched, prepares for a reverse tuck with 3 1/2 somersaults and a full twist, using his Daddy's stomach as his springboard.

Day 12: Baby's First Walk

Thank goodness my mom is here. Not only would this lovely walk not have been possible, but I might have shriveled up like a raison from not eating or drinking anything for the past week. Really. She fed and hydrated me at mealtimes; brought me my phone, magazines, pain medicine, ice packs, lip balm, a frightening variety of child-care books, and whatever else i would ring her for (i insisted she communicate with me via cellphone from downstairs, so we didn't risk waking Baby Cass with our loud voices). She changed cass's diapers--and didn't even argue when i dictated detailed, step-by-step instructions from the other room. But it wasn't that she never questioned my authority (because, clearly, i do not have a control issue), it's that she never made me feel like i didn't know what i was doing--even though I didn't.

We dressed Cass in weather-appropriate clothing and accessories (cute hat, huh?), swaddled him, and got him in the stroller, out of the house and onto the sidewalk, with very little fuss. As I walked behind the heavy-duty stroller--a necessity for detroit's disjointed sidewalks, littered with broken glass--I almost burst with pride. This walk required absolutely no talent or skill from Baby Cass, but I couldn't get over the feeling that he was already showing signs of being a very advanced baby. Perhaps it was the way he knowingly tilted his head to the side to avoid a particularly bright ray of sunlight. Or how he hushed immediately upon hitting the stroller, never to utter a peep the entire way. Or how he made the cutest faces (ones I didn't even know he had mastered!) when admireres peeked under the hood.

And when the only destinations you have (not including White Castle) are Daddy's office and Uncle Phil's restaurant, there are lots of admirers.

Day 5: My Favorite Bed is Mom

Cass is already acting like a teenager: he loves to stay up all night and sleep all day. Not exactly model baby behavior, considering i'm on bedrest indefinitely. I'll spare the ugly details, and leave it at "Ouch." Daddy Ryan brings supplies and food upstairs to the bedroom, and I mostly sit and stare at our little nugget. It's hard not to.

Remember that adorable photo of Cass sleeping peacefully in his bassinet? It was a cruel kind of trickery. He duped us with an eager desire to please, later recoiling from any form of proper sleeping apparatus for infants. He prefers a human cradle.

You'll also notice he is wearing clothing in this picture. It's just a tiny white undershirt with front, kimono-style snaps, but it's a big step nonetheless. We generally like to keep him naked and swaddled, so we don't have to pull anything over his head. This is Dad's idea, and we all agree it's a good one. Luckily, it's not the middle of February.

Day 3: Home from the Hospital

Unfortunately, we don't have any photos from our first day in the world outside the hospital that don't incriminate us as freakishly incompetent parents. But hear us out:

Picture 1: Cass's neck may appear to be broken, but let me assure you that he is extremely comfortable. He told us several times on the drive home, which took 40 minutes longer than usual due to being nervous and driving ridiculously slow, as well as a few closed freeways and bad detours. Cass will thank us later for his yoga-like flexibility.



Picture 2: Admittedly, this is not an ideal swaddling job. We promise to do better with future swaddles. So don't go worrying about Cass suffocating in his polka-dotted blanket. But the upside: he's sleeping in the bassinet like a little angel.

Speaking of swaddling, doesn't it look like I'm swaddled, too? I'm not. That would be ridiculous.

Happy Birthday, Cass!

Cass Spencer Cooley, born at 6:40pm after what we'll briefly sum up as a very trying day. The details: 7 pounds, 11 ounces; 21 inches.

Named after Mama Cass, you ask? Try my brother Colin's cabbage patch kid, Cassius Alistair, circa 1986. Over brunch one day last winter, Colin and I decided the baby would need a strong family name, and my good brother, with much consideration and genorisity, offered up the sacred name, Cassius, which he had been quietly saving for his own offspring one day. The problem: not everyone loved it as much as we did. Ryan and I burned through vowel-heavy names like Owen, Elliot, Ewan and Oliver, finally settling a derivative of the famous boxer's birthname. I was able to resist the urge to write Cassius on his birth certificate when no one was looking, and his name is officially Cass. Spencer is my father's middle name and ryan's father's father's middle name (following me?). It's absolutely perfect.

Which is pretty much how we feel about our new son. I have never felt happier in my life than on this day.