Excerpt from an email I sent to my pregnant cousin:

Anyhow, here's a few things I came up with that are musts for the new babe (any name ideas, by the way?):

swing- there's great Fischer Price ones with different sound settings, etc. Jude used to sit in his for ages when he was first born otherwise he'd scream.

changing table/bureau- makes life so much easier to have everything together when changing diapers, dressing, etc.

MacLaren stroller- very compact, reliable and great for the city. Make sure you get one that's good for infants, toddlers, etc. Get a rain covering too.

glass bottles-plastic ones have been found to contain a harmful chemical (BHP), released when heated....we only buy glass now and have yet (knock on wood) to break

Infant Bath- we'll give you ours, however, ask for the Johnson & Johnson bath set that comes with a purple lavender sleepy bubble-bath, q-tips, lotion and shampoo.

Diapers- you'll go through tons and they're pretty expensive

gift cards to restaurants- I was so exhausted the first month, as was Matt, that we never cooked and as a result ordered in a lot. I wish we'd had gift cards.

Wait on a breastpump....see if you're going to breastfeed then after a month or so get one. I tried using one before my milk came in and it was soooo painful!

Pack 'n play- it's a portable playpen. Comes with a changing table and a mobile. Good if you're going anywhere.

First Aid Kit with Milicon (for gas), baby nail clippers, baby tylenol, thermometer, etc.

Dreft- a detergent that is made just for babies clothes. Really gentle on their skin.

MANY passifiers and the strings that attach the binky to the baby's clothes.

Nursing bras and nursing pads....otherwise, you'll lactate through your shirt which is definitely not sexy. They have great nursing bras at Target.

Diaper Geenie- otherwise, the diapers will stink up your apt.

Baby Bjorn- so great and it calmed Jude a lot. Plus, you have your hands free.

clothes- duh.

The irony of course is that the smaller the child, the more things they require!

To wean or not to wean: That is no longer a question.
I’m surprised by how stress-free the weaning process has been. When we returned from London two weeks ago I began supplementing formula at regular feedings. At first, as expected, my melons swelled up, angry and bloated as though protesting against my plans. Within two days, however, my body had readjusted itself to stop producing milk at those times. After a week and a half I cut breast feedings to just twice a day and now BB makes an appearance solely once the sun has gone down to help Jude fall asleep. My initial fears were that a breast infection would ensue, but I have come to realize that with a more gradual approach my body quickly catches on. With the wedding weekend I went from feeding six times a day to pumping a few times sporadically, resulting in breast engorgement.
Since cutting out breast milk and introducing solids, Jude gained one pound in two weeks. The pediatrician confirmed this fact as Jude tore apart the office, his busy hands pulling at the paper covering the table in the examining room last week.
Sometimes I muse, “Such a big boy, sitting up in his high-chair, eagerly inhaling spoonfuls of the latest fruit and veggie concoction I make, when just six months ago he was utterly helpless and incommunicative except when screaming, pooping or sucking.”
Now, I can easily distinguish between a deafening “Don’t leave me alone” scream, the whiny “I’m exhausted and crabby” scream and the most common, defiant “Feed me now, woman!” scream. There’s even the recently added, “I’m constipated and red-faced” howl.
Even though formula definitely has downsides, such as the cost, I’m happy to report that I’ve been losing more weight, perhaps because I’m less hungry. Indeed, it’s amazing to me that after over a year of my body helping to support another life it’s going to be all mine again. For me, six and a half months of breastfeeding was the perfect amount of time because it allowed bonding between us but didn’t go on too long…especially with Jude’s protruding teeth!
Jude is also able to sit up on his own, although he does still totter backwards if his head tilts too far to gaze at something above him. Even though there are no discernable words yet, Jude can make sounds like, “ba-ba-ba-ba” that nicely compliments “wa-wa-wa-wa-wa.” He grins when Matt and I copy him as though the three of us are privy to the secret world of wa-wa’s and ba-ba’s.
One thing I haven’t written about much is the impact of a baby on a relationship. In all honestly, Matt and I give of ourselves to a great degree, both emotionally and physically, to Jude that by the end of the day we’re cranky and hostile with each other. When Jude is awake, much of our time is spent enjoying him or relaying funny stories about the baby when one of us is absent. However, when we should be relaxing after Jude is asleep, we end up fighting.
Maybe it’s different with other women, but with me I know that I need to have a life outside the house in order to keep my sanity. There are days that go by when I wonder, “Is this what I went to college for? Diapers, laundry, dishes…”
I’m feeling much more confident about actively searching for a job now that Jude is not breastfeeding. In fact, we’re both looking in Portland, Oregon, a decision that came about after the trip to Europe. Matt and I sat down and had a few serious discussions about what our next step should be since we’re no longer restricted by circumstance and now have the ability to find a place that best suits our needs. For a few days we thought about going overseas again, but ultimately with a baby, it would prove to be a hassle.
We each wrote down a list of attributes we would ideally like to see in a location. My list went something like this: “A place where people are laid-back, plenty of outdoor activities year-round within the proximity of a city that has excellent public transportation, opportunities to meet other young families, affordable cost of living, good job availability and schools.”
After comparing our lists, we compiled a list of eight US cities and started researching. One by one, we crossed them off as they did not meet some of our important requirements e.g. Oakland, CA has one of the highest crime levels in the country, we would need a car in Boulder, CO and we would have to send Jude to private school in San Francisco, not to mention we would both have to work full-time to afford an apartment.
By the end, Portland was the lone survivor and the more research we’ve done, including talking with people who live in Portland, the more confident we are of the decision to follow the Oregon trail. According to the Moon handbook, “Portland is known as one of the nation’s most livable cities… with trails connected to Forest Park, the nation’s largest urban forested park, with over 70 miles of trails.” It also mentions that “the city’s easy-going and quirky spirit make Portland feel like a much smaller town…currently the West Coast destination for ‘young creatives’…plenty of high-tech business ventures, top-notch cultural institutions, likely the best mass transit in America…Portland is more a city that you explore for its way of life.”
Sold.
Ideally, if Matt found a well-paying job, I could either work or study part-time so Jude would only be in daycare for half of the day. If both Matt and I were in better places in regards to jobs, I am confident that our relationship would improve. There’s no such thing as a perfect place, a perfect relationship or even a perfect baby (although Jude is pretty damn close), but I finally feel like we have the ability to start doing something about enhancing our situation and ultimately our relationship.

It's interesting how babies can either bring out the best or worst in people. I've come to believe that for the most part it's the best in people, particularly women who are mothers themselves. Others, especially in confined spaces like airplanes, are seen taking deep breaths or inundating themselves with pillows to block out any cries. I consider myself lucky to have mainly encountered the former.
In the airport on the way over to the Czech Republic, we met a family from Quatar, a tiny cornflake of a country extending off the eastern part of Saudi Arabia. Attempting to feed Jude veggies while scarfing down Chinese food is never a good idea, and although the mother knew little English she managed to communicate that she wanted to feed my squirming son. Within minutes, she had him laughing and cooing all the meanwhile spooning in mouthfulls of dinner. Her daughter, just fifteen, showed me pictures on her i-phone of the family riding around on ATV's in the desert at home. In Arabic, the daughter explained, Jude means one who is kind to others.
Once in Prague, the manager of our 15th century hotel/hostel played "Paddy Cake" in Czech with Jude then allowed him to sleep for three hours in the cavernous downstairs kitchen room after we had already checked out. She also hauled a portable crib and a high-chair up the five flights of stairs for us. No wonder the Czech stay in such trim shape despite a diet of goulash, meat and potatoes.
One evening out at dinner, a little Spanish girl played with Jude and gave him several nicknames in reference to his blond mohawk. Her father grinned as he sipped from an expresso. Matt and I attempted to recall our rusty Spanish from our trip to Guatemala when Jude was just a peanut in my belly.
Since the last blog, Jude has fallen off the bed- twice. The first time was off of our bed at home, which is low to the ground since there's no base. I was packing for the trip and when I looked over, I saw Jude gracefully rolling down the side of the bed, buffered by our long blanket, as though a piece of dough.
The second time was far less graceful as he was on the bed in Prague, pumping his fists and arms, in anticipation of dinner. Thinking that Matt had an eye on him, I turned to open the mini-fridge stocked with Czech baby food just in time to hear a cacophonous crash. Matt had lunged in an attempt to catch Jude, but ultimately missed and tripped, leaving them both upturned like turtles on the floor. Much crying took place for all of us, but ultimately Jude was fine. Lesson learned: do not leave baby alone for even a second on the bed.
Another lesson: once baby's teeth come in, breastfeeding becomes a Russian roulette-like since you don't know if he's going to nurse or chomp. Someone once told me that babies instinctively know not to bite. Somehow Jude never received that memo as he smiles in response to my ensuing scream, as though he's entered a fun house.
At this time, Jude has also "discovered" himself, grabbing at his dangling ornament and squeezing as though it were a piece of gum in one's mouth. Concerned for the safety of future generations, I asked the doctor if I should be doing anything to discourage the behavior. "Oh, he'll figure out what hurts, but for now he views it as another toy to play with." Hmmm....so begins the male's life-long infatuation his manhood.
I'm also grateful to have been able to travel so extensively with Jude as an infant. Once he's mobile, I know it will prove much more difficult as he'll be into everything. I befriended a British woman on our flight back whose 20-month-old took a painful head-dive into a table as she was unloading items for security. The egg-shaped swell on his forehead was a constant reminder that little guys must always be watched vigilantly.

With two pearly whites immerging from Jude’s bottom gum, he’s officially six months old today (also, it’s Grandma Janet’s birthday!). Recently, I came across a picture of myself at six months, dressed in a colorful Japanese komodo, grinning with two teeth peaking out from the same location.
No longer reacting to his environment, Jude now interacts with it, grabbing at anything in sight, straining upwards when placed on his back, like a muscled body-builder. Months before he was content to sit placidly, now we can’t leave him on the bed even for a second in fear that he’ll fall off, nor can we leave anything that may end up in his mouth within arms length.
I’ve learned that he doesn’t care for string beans but when disguised with pear and banana, he’ll swallow otherwise it’ll end up in the tub. Jude likes to eat. Now, he lunges at whatever goes into my mouth, be it a turkey wrap or a popsicle now that he grasps the concept of eating.
On Saturday, I spent my first night away from Jude since he was born, although technically much longer if you include pregnancy. Showing off his picture to any willing viewer, I began missing Jude more and more as the day turned into night. Around six I thought about how Matt must (hopefully) be feeding him in the bath then around seven I thought about him falling asleep.
With the handy breastpump, I stuck off during Saturday’s wedding intermittently to expel breast milk. Later, I sat on the bed, talking to friends, or in a chair in the room. Indeed, I no longer have any shyness about my body.
In the morning, I slept in until 10 a.m., the longest since Jude’s birth. Even though I spent the night on a crinkling, plastic-wrapped twin bed, it was a treat to not wake at 5:30 a.m.
Ryan came home on the 30th and we spent the day with Jude, kayaking (Becky, Ryan’s mom watched him) and swimming in her pool. I began experiencing a sharp pain in my right breast (Big Boob) that increasingly became more painful as the day wore on. By the early evening I started experiencing headaches and dizziness. Big Boob felt inflamed and scorching hot. When I called the doctor’s office a nurse informed me that it sounded like I’d developed mastitis, a condition in which the breast tissue becomes infected. Whereas it doesn’t sound like something to worry much about, in the ominous words of the nurse, “You’ll feel like you got run over by a bus.”
By 11 p.m. I was running a 104 degree fever, switching between sweating and shivering and completely immobile. All night and into the morning, the fever raged on: a combination of a horrible hang-over like headache, my body feeling like a pinata after a beating and utter exhaustion that robbed me of all coordination. I couldn’t muster the strength to hold Jude and my breast felt as though shards of glass were inside. He still nursed on Big Boob, but not without Matt pinning down Jude’s arms to ensure he didn’t swipe at it.
By the time I visited the doctor that morning, the fever had subsided slightly, but I was still lethargic and delirious, forgetting to fill out the medical forms and falling asleep on the examining table. With a prescription of antibiotics, the fever quickly went down and all that was left was the pounding headache and dizziness. Once August rolls around, I’ve decided to start weaning Jude, especially after this horrible infection.
On the upside, I think that six months is the best time because of all the reasons listed above, plus Jude hasn’t developed stranger anxiety that tends to plague babies as they get a bit older. He has the ability to recognize me and Matt, but without always preferring us, per se. Jude has also begun saying, “Wa-wa-wa-wa” which would make for a cute Wa-Wa store commercial.
In all, I’m in disbelief that so much time has passed and I can’t imagine my life without Jude. It’s amazing to think that so much has happened and changed over these few months.