Looking in the Crystal Ball

There's a lot Joy and I still don't know about what is going to happen in the next few months, but for anyone interested, we do have some decisions made at least. So here's a rough timeline, if everything works out the way we think. It brings to mind the old line, "If you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans." These should be worth a chuckle.

We hope to have heard back from any school still interested in me this week. Within the next couple weeks I will be flying out to visit Nigeria. We hope to have a final decision about where then or very shortly thereafter. So we'll stop being silent/coy/private in a few weeks.

Baby Lavinia arrives June 24 and we begin a frantic dash to get her passported and visad.

Early July we will move out of Ithaca and visit our families in California and Utah, blessing Lavinia in my parents' ward.

Late July or early August we leave for our grand, three year adventure.

I'm sorry we've been keeping rather quiet about things online. It's certainly not for lack of interest as we can find precious little else to talk about that is quite so engaging. Until a decision is made, though, we would rather not jinx anything. The places still on the table are each very interesting prospects that we are excited about and we'd love to tell you more ... soon. We just know we probably won't be in Ithaca for more than another 10 weeks.

They come not single spies

In the mighty rains of the evening, our bathroom is flooded with rainwater. Next!

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.

Crying over spilled milk

When Joy was pumping milk for Hyrum, the process was long and took a lot out of her physically and emotionally. When even a drop of precious Mommymilk spilled, it was a traumatic experience. We learned a whole new side of the old saying "Don't cry over spilled milk."

I used to think it meant not crying over piddling things - what's a little milk? When milk is your child's lifeblood and comes at great cost to your beloved, milk is much more valuable. To a dairy farmer, milk might be your livelihood and the ability to feed your family and keep them warm. Milk is important!

But what is done is done. Crying won't change that fact. You just take your licks and move on.

We've had a lot of licks lately!

I was cleaning dishes 10ish days ago when a glass shattered into my pinky finger. I'm still getting all the infection out of it. It'll leave a scar.

I was putting in the rest of the storm windows Friday morning and put one on the other side of the baby gate. I stepped over the gate and put a 6 inch scrape in my leg on the storm window that bled much of the day. Though it's hurt for most of the last 3 days, at least I'm not limping.

Joy got a second degree burn on her elbow last night while making cookies for home and visiting teachees.

Joy has a cold sore.

We're all either getting rid of colds or trying to avoid them. This implies that I'm behind on my sleep and have been aching all over my body most of the last few days.

Hyrum has a terrible dieaper rash and doesn't want to sit anywhere. We think he's also getting ready for a growth spurt because he's been irritable as anything and not sleeping as well as usual (aka 8 hours isntead of 11).

Then today at church, we returned to the spilled milk. I got out of the car and spilled a cup of milk on my suit and the car ... just like happened last week ... TWICE ... when getting out of the car and when Hy dumped a cup on me and my seat while perched on my shoulders. Another cup fell from the pew when Joy moved something else and it burst open, so I ran to bathroom to get paper to wipe it up during the sacrament itself. We no sooner got home, but the third sippee cup of milk we brought for Hyrum burst open and spilled over the floor and Joy.

Oh, and then I dropped my lunch - chicken parmesan - on the floor next to the gargbage can.

And no, it doesn't help that the pioneers had it worse. No use crying over any of it, though. Just keep moving. "Clean it up. See if you can do better next time" Joy adds sagely. "Laugh when you write it down on your blog." Now I'm off to cook our stir fry.... Pray for it. Gravity is ag'in us.

And it is ... GONE

"I never would have believed I could lose weight so fast!"

That testimonial from Joy reflects our delight with the South Beach Diet. Today, very officially, Joy is below the weight she was the first time she went in to her OBGYN pregnant. She is at her pre-pregnancy weight!

"I was starting to feel that I was never going to lose the weight, like it was a permanent part of who I am."

This is a thought I know all too well. My ambition in life was to hold the line and be happy remaining there. I was thrilled to finally get below 10 pounds for every year I was old because I got older (I've been tracking that more or less since I was 5 years and 50 pounds).

"Wow. That's crazy, Derrill. Glad we broke the cycle."

Since early June, Joy has lost almost 15 pounds. That was after a largely ineffectual and very painful first two weeks when her metabolism, taste buds, and carb cravings really did reset as the book claimed. "But it took almost two whole weeks to do it." She's been dropping about 2 pounds a week on average.

Since early May, Derrill has lost 25 pounds, after a gloriously successful first two weeks of 10 pounds. So I've also been dropping almost 2 pounds a week since the diet phase.

We've been asked a number of times if we're still "on a diet." We're on a lifestyle, yes. We can't eat everything we might like indiscriminately. We have a theory you don't either. "But we have taken a couple of days off the diet," which is even approved and encouraged to keep your sanity up. The guy just encouraged people to know what constitutes breaking and how to get back on your lifestyle.

"We've enjoyed finding desserts that work with the diet" - pound cake, cheesecake, sweetened riccotta cheese (which is the filling for cannolies), pudding, peanut M&Ms, Snickers. It's been easier to get our fruits and vegetables in every day and we're actually fairly glad to eat less meat than we were doing for our nutritionist the last two years.

The real change is carbs. We have a little whole wheat bread, pita pizza, or pasta each day and really enjoy it. "My OBGYN suggested I go down to 1 grain a day when I was pregnant with Hy and I thought he was insane. But because of his suggestion, I figured that this diet would be healthy even some day when I get pregnant again." We've discovered that we don't really need a bunch of grains to fill up, while before the mashed potatoes and rice were a large part of what made the meal feel filling. "We find ways to work in our favorite foods so that it can be a lifestyle. We found your taste buds really change when you go to only one grain a day. Our fruits taste sweeter, our breads taste sweeter, and Joy - have a cow - likes dark chocolate!"

While in DC, I went off the lifestyle for a couple days since it would have been very difficult to follow and enjoyed a small pizza as well as the sandwiches they were giving me. Then I got back on track, and I've lost what I gained as a result. "I think your family is going to notice a real difference when they get here in two weeks. 25 pounds."

"When we read people's success stories in the book, we were like, 'yeah, right, whatever. No craving for carbs??' But I had misunderstood the word 'craving.' It means painfully in need of, like being addicted." Joy and I had very different experiences in those first two weeks, which is why I didn't think it made much difference. I just wasn't as addicted, probably thanks to earlier summers with Mr. Atkins. "I still like my breads. I often still think of them first. But I don't feel like I'm going to die because I don't eat them for every meal. I feel I can eat as much of the good food I want - guilt free - and not have to go hungry, and the breads are just a nice addition."

There is a third phase to the diet where we get to add a bit more grain to something closer resembling normal, but we'll get there once we've reached our ideal weights.

So we are rapidly becoming South Beach converts. It's been kind of fun as we were doing it to discover who else in the branch is converted. Who would've imagined this was even possible?? "Now is the day of our weight loss. We shall rejoice and be glad therein."

(PS - Derrill would encourage all the silent ladies who read this blog for Hyrum to pretend this is a woman's blog and actually make comments congratulating Joy. I have this theory I get fewer comments than my fellow blogging spouses because I'm a guy.)

100% Doctored

Cornell's graduation was last week. It was a thrilling, fulfilling, wonderful day. My Dad just happened to be speaking in Philadelphia the week before and Syracuse the week after, so he and Mom flew out to spend the weekend with us.







Course, I've been a doctor for more than six months now. Three signatures = PhD, and that happened in November. It would have happened earlier, but that was the first day my entire committee was in town since May. So I was a doctor in November.

I was a bit more of a doctor in December when I was handed a piece of paper signifying that, yep, I had three signatures and could now claim my "rights and privileges" as a doctor.

I was a bit more of a doctor when the grad school confirmed things back in early January.The diploma arrived in March, that's another bit of doctorocity.

But putting on the cap and gown for the first time on Wednesday just after handing in a rough draft for the next project after the dissertation and taking pics with my adviser was extra special.

And the Sunday festivities Memorial Day weekend were the final capping. It's nice to get to celebrate the same event so many times. Given how long it took, I deserve it!







Christopher Colwatson,
setting sail on three papers
into the uncharted waters of
developmental economics research





But getting back to our story....






Mom, Joy, Dad, and Hy were in the stands to see me, even if they didn't until it was over. Hy, for the record, was remarkably calm and well-behaved throughout the commencement.






I'm somewhere on the right of that sea of red, on the fourth row, towards the right. I can't find me. I have a guess where I am, and there's someone straight in front of me. Joy managed to catch me in a couple videos, but I have to stop them at just the right second to show it to you.



(Here I am at my old building.)

I gathered with the other P.H.ony D.octors at 9am and we stood around chatting until 10 when the bells announced the beginning of the processing. I was very pleased with our bell ringer. We started out marching to Verdi's Triumphal March from Aida, and then strode to the glorious euphonia of Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance.

I told Joy the only thing I really needed was a good solid hour of Pomp and Circumstance. By the time we got to the stadium, I discovered that the wind ensemble had other ideas. I have no idea what I marched into the stadium to. I felt a bit jypped. The Human Ecology undergrads (including those in my new dept.) came in to the March of the Jawas from Star Wars. What?? The engineers got Pomp and Circumstance. Bout time.

It turned out the coolest moment was at the beginning of the march. With Pomp and Circ. in the background, we passed rows of faculty members in their regalia cheering and applauding us as we made our way to the stadium. Though I didn't see anyone I recognized, seeing the genuine celebration in their eyes - particularly when they saw one of their own students - was a really welcoming embrace.



Of course, there's little that could top the moment when the degrees were conferred.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

We PhDs were largely dignified in our celebrations. The Veterinary Medicine PhDs, who had their own seating, had all brought pink hand balloons that they waved. The master of ceremonies -- who did an excellent job, by the by -- instructed each group after their degrees were conferred, "Will the Masters and Doctors of the Universe please be seated." To the VMs he said, "Will the Veterinary Medicine PhD's please Sit DOWN." There was no anger in his voice, but the way he said it brought laughter throughout the stadium.

I was the only doctor near where I was sitting who could sing the Alma Mater thanks to the 4-5 years now that I've lead a quartet/quintet/trio in it at the LDSSA Opening Social. Both Joy and I did my longstanding joke of adding in a few 'bustle bustle bustle's after the line about "Far above the busy humming of the bustling town."

I climbed over the stadium railing once I found my family. We went home, had lunch, and sent everyone away to take naps while I ... did something. I forget what. It may have been church related. After naptime, Joy and I drove around town taking pictures of me in my robes before returning them. Someday I'll own my own set, but it shall not be this day. We ate corned beef and cabbage for dinner, and went out Saturday and Monday for steaks (Lucatelli's) or chicken and pork with sweet potatoes (Boatyard, most excellent!).

I felt loved. I felt appreciated. I felt sunburnt.

I felt truly grateful for the many wonderful fellow students and teachers who have helped bring me along to this wonderful day.

Life, Death, and Christmas

There has been a lot to think about this Christmas. I hope you'll forgive me for reciting the death toll for a moment before getting to the happier part, but in my more morbid moments it has seemed that Death has been delivering a great many telegrams this semester. If you'd rather skip all that, head on down to the dashed lines separating off Elder Wirthlin's testimony.

As you may remember, my good friend Evan Wade passed away earlier this semester. His death was quite sudden and unexpected. Timed as it was at the cusp of beginning so many wonderful things in life, it has made me feel particularly blessed to have been able to finish my own degree and be sealed to my wife. I commented to Joy the other day that I've been thinking of him regularly. I miss him, far more than I had expected.

Around Thanksgiving, Grammy had multiple strokes and the doctors also found there had been a heart attack at some point. This also was unexpected, and I find myself quite unprepared for the thought of Christmas without Grammy. In the last twenty years, that's been about the only time I've gotten to see her. Thankfully, Dad reports that Grammy is, to all appearances, fully recovered and doing miraculously well. But the realization of the fragility of mortality was hit home again. (This picture from the Ensign is of Grammy, though she doesn't actually need a wheelchair, then or now.)

A few weeks ago, Aunt Elizabeth died. I don't know that I ever met her or my great-uncle who is now left to mourn her loss. Uncle Calvin reported that she was "was released from the prison of her body" in hospice care after weeks of strokes and terrible pain. He is comforted that her death relieves her of the burden of that suffering, bringing her somewhere without the pain.

Last week our stake president succumbed to the battle he's fought with his cancer the last few years now. I didn't know Calvin Gehen well, but he had a powerful spirit with him at each stake meeting. He radiated peace and compassionate service, in part because you would sometimes never know how much he was suffering to be there. Being with him reminded me in many ways of the opportunities I've had to shake the hands of one of our apostles. Joy is hoping to sing in the choir at his funeral on Tuesday.

A couple weeks ago, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin passed away. This was not particularly surprising since he was the oldest of the apostles. Though I've known a number of people who knew him (my friend Darrell married his granddaughter and my first mission companion was Elder Wirthlin's home teacher - which provided some interesting stories), I never had the privilege myself.

So today, since I'm sick and unable to attend church, I thought I would get around to watching Elder Wirthlin's funeral, which the Church has graciously put on their website. It was a beautiful service. (Other friends of Darrell will see him and his wife walking out of the funeral at 1:11:42-1:11:56. She's in a red sweater.) In my favorite talk that he ever gave, he told of the Savior's suffering in Gethsemane on Good Friday, reminding us that no matter how bleak the Fridays are that must inevitably come to all our lives, "Sunday will come." During the funeral service, I realized that he gave that talk just after his sweetheart had passed away, surely going through his own Friday. How important the testimony of resurrection morning is!

Among the words offered during the funeral, Pres. Boyd K. Packer shared with the family Elder Wirthlin's final testimony (it's about 30 minutes into the video), which he had spoken approximately the week before. Let me share a piece of it with you:
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From time to time if we are living worthily, the Spirit of God touches our hearts, and minds, and our lives, and improves us forever. The warm feeling penetrates our hearts, a silent, still small voice speaks to us, communicating through the burning of our bosom the knowledge given to us from God. It draws us closer to Him, sanctifying us and strengthening our desire to return to His presence. During such unforgettable moments, revelation comes to us and forever alters our view - sharpening our focus on what matters most. We sense more profoundly our eternal relationship with Him as the literal Father of our spirits. We also feel more acutely our complete dependence on the merciful atonement of His Son Jesus Christ.

I had such a revealing experience. It was Christmas time in Bavaria in the Alps in 1937. I have always loved Christmas. There is a special spirit about it. The chill of the winter air is the perfect counterpoint to the warmth that should fill our hearts as we contemplate the message of salvation found in the birth, resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

I experienced that warmth many years ago while serving as a missionary for the church, just prior to the outbreak of WWII. As you might expect, the possibility of armed conflict was very intense, but as Christmas approached, our thoughts were drawn to the Savior. We rejoiced in the privilege of serving Him during that sacred season in the famous city of Salzburg, Austria.

On Christmas Eve, Elder S and I visited the village of Oberdorf, nestled securely in the beautiful Bavarian Alps. It was a clear, crisp winter night. We walked under the canopy of stars across the smooth stillness of newfallen snow to a humble little church where a familiar melody beckoned us with a message of peace and hope. [Pictured is the church to which he refers.]

Inside, a choir was singing in German a carol that brought warmth to our hearts on that cold winter night. Though we were far from our homes and families, we were filled with our Heavenly Father's love and comforted by His Spirit, as we listened to the calming strains of Silent Night, Holy Night.

Perhaps it was like the night that more than a century earlier inspired the assistant pastor in that quaint village to write the words to one of the most beloved hymns in all of Christendom. [He then tells the story of how the words and music came about.] As we listened to the choir's harmony while standing in the very same church where the first rendition of the sacred song was sung, we were spiritually moved. We were filled with the true spirit of Christmas.
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He told of how the Holy Ghost touched him and his companion at that time. As they walked the 15 miles back to their home, they spoke of a strengthened resolve to do what is right, to find a wonderful person with whom to spend eternity as husband and wife, and to keep their lives in focus with the principle and teachings of the Savior. He closed by saying, "I pray that our hearts and home may resonate with His marvelous message of love and peace during the holiday season. Forever with the apostle John, I testify that God so loved the world that He gave His Only Begotten Son...."

I've been looking forward to this Christmas all year. It's the first time I get to play Joseph. I've been a shepherd many times; I'm far too young to be a wise man; I've even been a dumb ox sometimes; but I've always looked forward to being the dad. No, Joseph wasn't the father of Jesus, but he was the man with whom God entrusted His Son, as He has entrusted me with a precious delight named Hyrum.

After all, besides death, this year has brought life. Wonderful, sweet life that has filled and changed our hearts in marvelous, miraculous ways. We are not the only ones so blessed. My dear friend Marcy and her husband have a dear little Emma after years of praying; our dear friends the Petersons just welcomed their third little one into the world; my former home teaching companion and his wife just received their first blessing; and there are countless more Corbins and Daniels and Timothies and Janes and Millies and more.

Each year, their families and friends will celebrate their lives, putting on cone-shaped party hats and singing old songs off key and eating good food and giving presents to each other because they are so thankful that this precious child is still with us. Every year, we also celebrate with funny little red cone-shaped hats, singing old songs off key, eating good food, and giving presents to each other on society's best guess as to His birthday. For behold, a virgin conceived, and she bore a son, and she called His name Emmanuel: God with us. I am so thankful that we all get together as brother and sisters, friends, neighbors, and family to celebrate the birth and resurrection of our Savior as well, whose sacrifice and sacredness conquered death, inaugurated hope, and promised peace. God be praised for the matchless gift of His Son.

How was your weekend?

As I read my scriptures on Friday, one of the songs I listened to was by the BYU Concert Choir: Death Shall Not Destroy My Comfort. Google informs me you can find a copy of them singing it on Youtube. I've always had a thing for glorious songs in minor keys and this has been a favorite. I thought to myself as I heard it Friday that the next time I had to experience someone's passing, I would have to sit in a dark quiet room and listen to that with my headphones on to get a good, healing cry.

And if you imagine I recognized that as foreshadowing at the time, you give me too much credit.....

Death shall not destroy my comfort,
Christ shall guide me thro’ the gloom;
Down he’ll send some heav’nly convoy,
To escort my spirit home.

Joy and I finally made it out to the temple Saturday. I consider it quite an accomplishment since the last few times we've tried to go, something got in the way. This time when something got in the way, we ran over it and just went anyway. We saw a lot of friends from our temple shifts there who loved to meet our prodigy (who is currently engaged in doing his best to climb/fall into the laundry basket and cry for help). The wonderful thing of going to the temple is being able to be of service to people who passed on without the opportunity to receive the full blessings of the gospel for themselves. It is a beautiful testimony of God's love for all of His children and His desire to bring all of us home.

(Refrain):
Oh, hallelujah! How I Love my Savior,
Oh, hallelujah! That I Do.
Oh, Hallelujah! How I love my Savior!
Mourners, you may love him too.

I was very glad for the temple -- it took the edge off of some of the pain I've been feeling the last few days. I don't know why, but I just really haven't felt well. At one point on our drive to the temple, I pulled over to give Joy a turn driving because I was starting to feel unsafe on our heavily rained-upon roads. Today when I got up, I was sick enough that I couldn't make it to church and it's likely I'll be calling in sick tomorrow. Hopefully I can get well before my defense next Monday. If not, well, my "A" exam was also done under an illness induced haze.

Jordan’s stream shall not o’erflow me,
While my Savior’s by my side;
Canaan, Canaan lies before me!
Soon I’ll cross the swelling tide. (Refrain)



Joy kindly suggested I lay down for a nap while she took care of Hyrum when we got home. I hadn't been down long when our branch president (church leader) called. My good friend Evan Wade had "crossed the swelling tide." I still don't know most of the details, but apparently he skidded on the slick roads and crashed into a tree.

Evan "yes, I like putting odd statements in the middle of my name when I sign off an email" Wade came to Cornell the same year I did to major in Engineering. I'm not entirely sure why, but I decided to watch out for him that first year - help him get rides, encourage him in the church, and try to help support him going on a mission. I don't know that there was any real doubt of that happening, but I wanted to look out for him. He went on a mission to Finland and came back here, happy to see me. I still ended up giving him a lot of rides, which I never minded. He was set to graduate this winter, like me.

I home taught him for a year or so before he had met Cassie and I remember very fondly an evening he and I spent together while Joy was out of town, just talking about the gospel and his romantic hopes, and everything. I was so thrilled when he and Cassie announced their engagement!

We were home teachers together over the summer and for this year. The last time I saw him was home teaching the Browns on Wednesday where he praised Cassie, talked about how excited he was to be getting married and looking forward to graduation and life. I dropped him off, oddly enough, at our place where Cassie was waiting for him, gave him the traditionally overfirm handshake we had developed, and waltzed in happy to see my wife without considering I might not see him again. He was in the military and planning on spending a few months getting trained in submarines. He had an appointment to meet with them tomorrow. It seems God has other plans.

He loved jazz, played the sax, and while his voice wasn't the smoothest, he had an impressive range and power. We talked about music a good deal together. As we drove together the last time, I mentioned wanting to rent an accordian or a bagpipe from Cornell sometime soon so I could learn them. I wonder if he ever got the chance to pick up a piece by Hovhaness I recommended to him?

See the happy spirits waiting,
On the banks beyond the stream!
Sweet responses still repeating,
“Jesus! Jesus!” is their theme. (Refrain)

One of the greatest parts of the gospel is the knowledge that my wife, my son, my brother and his wife, and my parents are all sealed to me. That is, even death cannot separate us permanently. We have the promise that if we are faithful to our covenants, we can be together forever. A similar promise extends to our friends: "And that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there, only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy" (Doctrine and Covenants 130:2). Evan may not have been perfect (he was a bit of a flake), but he was a good man who was doing all he could to follow the gospel of Jesus. In addition to my grandfathers - Derrill One and Grandpa Straw - and the generations before them, I have the hope that I will find my good friend Evan "on the banks beyond the stream" to welcome me home.

Our hearts go out to Cassie and Evan's family! Joy and I have talked ever so briefly in hushed tones of what it would have been like for her had I passed on March 05. We pray for you all regularly and are assured that in time the Spirit will speak peace to your hearts, with solace and comfort that only God can bring. That's why His peace surpasses all understanding (Phil 4:7) - it comes despite and during our afflictions. How comforting it is to know that "all things have been done in the wisdom of Him Who knoweth all things" (2nd Nephi 2:24) and that God who knows the end from the beginning has said, "Thy days are known, and thy years shall not be numbered less; therefore, fear not what man can do, for God shall be with you forever and ever" (D&C 122:9).

Oh, hallelujah! How I Love my Savior,
Oh, hallelujah! That I Do.
Oh, Hallelujah! How I love my Savior!
Mourners, you may love him too.

Hyrum vs. Chanch

Other blog post titles include: "Why I stay up so late at night" and "Episode 6: Return of the Baby Fat"

Time for a hat tip. My old mission companion and golden (aka greenie), Mike Baker, got married and had a baby just before we did. They affectionately nicnamed him: The Chanch. This was him at one month.Quoting from their blog:
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for those of you who don't know; that is in reference to the extremely chubby kid who loans Jack Black some stretchy pants; I know-Mike and I fully realise that we might have to pay for counseling later-but look at those cheeks. Can you blame us?
... Sadly, the only language that he is fluent in is wookie. Mike and I have done some frantic perusing of the old episodes in an attempt to communicate with him, but so far all we have really figured out is that most of the time he is saying "Mom I'm starving, I'm starving, I'm starving!"
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Regularly, their blog (featured on the right) refers to the Chanch's struggles with life. It's tough being a baby, y'know? Chanch vs. Pears; Chanch vs. Swings; Chanch vs. The Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy (j/k); and so forth. Hence tonight's blog titles.

Hyrum has had a real struggle to be where he should be. Joy has even more. The blessed lot of fatherhood has been to struggle with them.





Hyrum was born at about the 33rd percentile for weight and the 88th for height. Tall and slim. There was just one problem...











He would NOT eat. He would scream murder and the veins pop out of his head when we offered. This was psychologically shattering.











He lost more than 15% of his weight before we got him home. Regular readers will remember we started feeding him by syringe then. This was not particularly fun, but it was a LOT better than the alternative. By that time he was at the 6th percentile for his weight.






Well, that worked for a while. His weight stabilized and started going up. The docs took us off emergency status as he went back up to the 8-9 percentile.









He continued growing. His ribs disappeared. He started getting a teeny tummy. He got up to 8 pounds! Finally, a pound above his birth weight, after two distraught months. We were very happy.

Until we visited the doctor again and learned he was NOT keeping up with the other kids. He was at ... the 0.96 percentile for weight. And his height had not kept up either: from 88th percentile to 15th!


That's when I started staying up until 2-5 in the morning to work on the second chapter of my dissertation ... and to feed Hyrum. This lets Joy sleep through the night (mostly), and lets him Chunk Up.

This bathtub pic was taken a month ago at 10 pounds and 5th percentile.

Two weeks ago at our doctor's visit, he was 12.5 pounds and 15th percentile. The doc told us we could ease up finally since his weight had caught up with his last measured height. We don't have to wake him for a midnight feeding ... except that if we don't, he wakes us up for a 4am feeding, and so we're still being a little preemptive. We'll test him out again without the midnight feeding this week while I'm in DC.

If he has maintained his previous rate of growth, he should weigh between 13 and 13.5 pounds now. That would be somewhere around the 25th percentile. He's outgrown I think all of his newborn clothes because he's too tall (at 4 mo.) and Joy brought out the rest of his 3-6 and some 6-9 mo. clothes to try on.

I have never been so thankful to see a chubby cheek or a second chin in my life. It means hope. It means growth. It means life.
Of course, a lot still depends on the camera angle. But there is no question that he is a happier, heftier, healthier baby. I cry with gratitude tonight for Joy's sacrifices and efforts, and the multiple doctors it has taken to figure out how in the World to get him eat.

It still takes sacrifices and effort and near-perpetual adjustment. But I'm so thankful for my sweet little baby who I love so dearly and my tough as nails wife who has never given up, no matter how hard it was. Thank you, my Queen. I only wish I could do more. Thank you, God, for seeing us through.

And now it's time to fetch and feed my son before joining my wife in slumber.

149 and 189

"This time, the numbers do not reflect the number of days we've been married"
That's right, dear. That would be 1090. Happy 1,090th day anniversary, dear!

Last week Monday we took Hyrum in for his two month check up. He got his shots and for the first time we saw him in Real Pain - not just I-haven't-been-fed-in-5-minutes or I-don't-wanna-bath pain, but Real Pain. It was real hard. He recovered manfully.
"Daddy held him."
And thought about Joseph Smith the entire time.
"Sorry, Daddy"
Joy came back in the room just as they started the poking. No fun.

But the real problem was with his measurements. He weighed 8 pounds, 2 ounces, a mere 1'1 above his weight last month. And he'd only grown 1 cm from the hospital's measurement (which I think HAS to have been off because he's much longer to me than he was before. And given that my arm hasn't shrunk and he doesn't fit nearly so well in it as he used to, I should know.)
"And you should know" Joy says as I typed that.
At 8 pounds 2, that put little Hy below the 3% line. Now, I've been hanging out with a bunch of nutritionists lately and I do my dissertation work on malnourished people. One of the primary ways we measure if a child is chronically malnourished is if they're more than 2 standard deviations from the norm ... below the 3% line. I freaked. I was always so Proud of our skinny little boy, and had no idea he was that underweight.
"I wasn't as worried about the percentage at first. I was just wondering if my baby was really hungry for food I wasn't giving him. I didn't feel that the percentage told me that until Derrill told me how concerned he was."

Our doc here didn't give us much guidance for anything we weren't already doing. So we called my uncle the doctor. He said 1) don't worry: the 3% comes from fat Iowa babies who eat corn and milk from the cow every day; and 2) gave us an idea how fast he needs to grow and some things we could do to let us know if we should still worry. I never appreciated Uncle Sherm as much as I did right then.
"So far I like Uncle Sherm just fine"
He's in Colorado. The first time we called, he was out in his pasture fixing his horse fence.

So anyway, we've been working HARD to get Hyrum up to code. Joy mostly. I have contributed mostly by staying up until the wee hours to give Hyrum a middle-of-the-night feeding (and getting a lot more work done in the process), and by cheering on my wife. As has been par for the course, we've had to change our plan of attack on a near-daily basis. On Wednesday, Joy took him to the doctor's office to get him weighed.

And the result is ....... he gained nine ... TEEN ounces in only nine days!

That puts him at a whopping 9 pounds 5, otherwise known as 149 ounces. He still has a lot of room to grow - he's not a chubby baby yet by any stretch, but we can't see his rib cage anymore, and that is quite good.
"He's got some chubby cheeks"

And what does 189 have to do with all this? To celebrate, Joy took me on a date to go bowling. Even though we haven't been bowling for over a year thanks to our tendonitis problems, I scored a 189 on our first game; my fourth-best game ever. I was pretty stoked.

Still no word on a new camera. These are all pre-feed Hyrum.

The Short Version

Hyrum was born by C-section at 3:56 am on March 11.


He is 7 pounds 3 and 21 inches. (It's easy to remember: 7x3=21)

Mother and baby are doing fine, but are very tired since not a one of us got any sleep last night.

WELCOME TO THE WORLD,
HYRUM SPENCER WATSON.

The Long Version

On March 10, Hyrum's due date, we drove up to our regular doctor's appointment in Montour Falls. He was a touch concerned that Joy's blood pressure was slightly high, so sent her over for a non-stress test at the hospital. Contrary to its name, it was a very stressful test. They were more concerned because Hyrum's heartbeat showed more decelerations (from the 140-150 range down to the 100-120 range) than accelerations, so the doc said he didn't want us to go home. The plan was that they would give Joy some cervidal to thin out her cervix and prepare her to be induced on Tuesday, March 11.

Hyrum did not like the cervidal. His heart rate dropped to 86. So they yanked the medicinal string out without warning -- freaking Joy immensely -- and called the doc. Dr. Saks said this meant that he wouldn't be able to stand labor, so they couldn't induce her and would have to bring him out themselves.

This was decided at 3am. At 3:56, Hyrum's head was brought out of her stomach. He coughed and immediately began to cry with the breath of life. Then he thrust his hand upward into the light. It was quite dramatic. They got him all cleaned off and awarded him first an 8 and then a 9 on the APGAR scale. He weighs in at 7 pounds 3, and is 21 inches long, so he's a tall, slender thing of delicate beauty.

He has brownish hair and the universal blue eyes nearly all babies start with. We think he looks a lot like Joy's brothers, DeWayne and Doug. The nurses agree that he is a very well-behaved baby, and he really doesn't cry very much at all yet. He likes laying down on Mommy and Daddy, who are thrilled and happy as can be.

Joy is recovering nicely, up and walking about today. Neither of us got a wink of sleep last night, and Hyrum appears obliging, so hopefully there will be some z's in our near future. We expect to be in the hospital Wednesday and Thursday, and we'll see if we get our "get-out-of-Schuyler-expensively" card Thur afternoon or Friday morning. Guests are welcome, but we do recognize the distance is a bit off-putting.

WELCOME TO THE WORLD,
HYRUM SPENCER WATSON