First of all, let me make one thing clear. One should never be separated from their baby for more than a few days. Period.
For one week, seven days, or one hundred and sixty-eight hours, way too many seconds to count Jude stayed in New York with his Grandparents and Aunts while Matt and I ventured to Portland, Oregon.
In my opinion, the first and last nights are the most trying. The first because it’s the beginning of experiencing the acute sense of loss or something missing that begins in the pit of your stomach and travels up to the dangly thing bobbing in your throat. You can barely process that you still have six unbearable nights ahead.
The last night is equally enduring because I knew it was a matter of hours before I’d be seeing Jude again, but first I had to get through the last twelve hours. The result? A heart-wrenching sleepless night as I lay awake, wanting to hold and cuddle him.
For the most part in Portland, Matt and I were both occupied, dropping off resumes, avoiding saturnine vagabonds begging for spare change (one guy took a really straight-forward approach by asking, “Can you help me get intoxicated today?”), learning the geography of the city and going for job interviews. I still missed Jude, but daily phone calls to his doting Grandma sufficed as I was provided with a run-down of each day’s activities.
I’ll admit that initially I was somewhat exhilarated by the concept of having time to myself; the ability to catch a movie at night, to peruse Powell’s the country’s largest independently owned bookstore, without a cumbersome stroller, the freedom to do what I wanted on my clock.
The euphoria quickly faded, as I found myself drawn to young families with babies in the numerous Portland parks, squares and riding around on the free public transit. To a stranger, I must have looked like a sappy, somewhat deranged woman as I salivated over chirping and drooling babes alike. I nearly cried buying a sling to transport Jude in, as I perused a photo album displaying gleeful infants, babies and toddlers attached to their back-pain free parents.
Yesterday morning Matt and I drove over to Becky’s house to retrieve the baby. I could hardly contain my excitement as I’d woken up at 7 a.m. and occupied myself by doing countless loads of laundry, cleaning out the refrigerator and returning calls. In other words, I was anxious and jittery, not knowing what to do with myself.
By 10 we were in the car, remarking on the trees changing colors, and by 11 we arrived at Becky’s house in Ridgefield, where we were greeted by the barking, short-legged dogs. Although Jude was asleep when we arrived, after chatting with Becky, Matt snuck upstairs and retrieved him.
First thing that struck me was his hair! No longer thin, it seemed to have thickened and grown overnight. His face, less baby and more boy, was still flushed pink from recently waking up had more of a solid look. I was shocked that in addition to looking older, he must have gained about a pound or so. Becky told me what a little piggy he was, shoving food into his mouth while grasping an apple slice as though it were his last meal.
Smitten with his daddy, Jude refused to come to me initially, much to my dismay. I began worrying, “Does he not remember me?! How could he not know his mommy-the person who didn’t sleep for the first four months of his life...who breastfed at all hours and endured a horrendous labor!” From the kitchen as she prepared lunch, Becky yelled out to me on the porch, “Jude is mad at you!”
Finally, I won him over with Big Boob, and as he tucked his legs into his belly and his eyes rolled back in bliss, I marveled over how much he changed during my week of absence.
Back at home, I discovered a third tooth emerging, next to the bottom two on his lower gum line. Jude’s scootering skills have also been perfected, as he expertly maneuvers his rotund body to slide, as he crawls and shimmies to the desired destination. Although Jude still greatly resembles Matt, I’m seeing more of my brothers, particularly blond-haired, blue-eyed Chris.
Cozy in his new green JUDE blanket, Jude is fast asleep upstairs as I write this. Even though I am grateful for the opportunity to have gone out to Portland, I can’t imagine leaving him for a week again at least not until he’s a teenager and by that time I’ll be grateful for a week away!

Since I last wrote, there have been many firsts, especially in the culinary sense. Jude has expanded his palate to include cheddar cheese, egg, Thai spring rolls, red beans, rice, cereal and, his very favorite and much to the detriment of his budding teeth and the kitchen floor, jiggly jello. In fact, many a morning is spent raiding the refrigerator in search of food to appease my son with his bottomless stomach. More input and, in turn, much more output as we go through approximately 30 diapers a week . I also puree a few pounds worth of fruit and veggies, not to mention a tin of formula a week( 31 bottles worth of 6 ozs each). At this rate, if eating were an Olympic sport, Jude will certainly be a rival for Phelp’s eight gold metals.
Speaking of sports, yesterday at the beach Matt threw a squishy palm-sized stress ball to Jude. Midair, Jude snatched it and immediately shoved it toward his mouth. For the rest of the afternoon, Matt and Jude played “catch”. Matt is already talking about Little League.
Another first: playdate last week with Briggs, a ten month old down the street. Usually gregarious and playful, Jude retreated to needy mode at Brigg’s house. It just so happened to be a rainy day and as each clap of thunder roared overhead, Jude’s arms and legs coiled around me tighter and tighter like a corset. Briggs laughed.
Their only interaction was where passifiers were concerned. They both seemed to recognize that the other had a pulsating plug in mouth, so what did they do? Grabbed at each other’s passifiers and switched. A little saliva never hurt anybody. Otherwise, the two boys completely ignored each other.
One afternoon over lunch in a Thai restaurant, Jude kissed the waitress. An attractive woman with delicately painted fingernails and a soft voice, Jude initiated the contact by grinning coyly at her. Within a matter of moments, he was in her arms, smooching her cheek! She spoke to him in low tones as he responded with coos while batting his luscious eye-lashes. Weeks prior to Jude’s conception, I lived in Thailand and maybe as an androgynous floating egg, he was somehow exposed to the beauties of the “land of smiles”. Either way, it was love at first sight. My seven month old was smitten.
How could I forget the two day camping trip to Hammonasset state park in Madison, CT? After ingesting much sand, Jude quickly learned that it's better to stick with food. I kept having to clean out all of his crevices and folds, for the sand has a way of imbedding itself in the trickiest of places to access. Jude and I both loved the early morning sunrises, as we strolled along the shore. We were especially diligent about lathering Jude up in sunscreen and providing much water. He enjoyed the waves lapping at his sausage legs, spraying him with salty water in the face. For us, it was an ideal budget get-away, especially because Jude could scream all he wanted and we never had to worry about disturbing anyone since we were outdoors.
We leave Wednesday for Portland, Oregon. A metaphoric knot sits pregnant in my belly over the thought of leaving Jude to fly cross-country. Waking in the morning to his gummy smile, I cannot imagine an entire week without him. What was life prior to the baby?

One of the things I particularly like about babies, and obviously I have Jude in mind when I write this, is how in-the-moment they perceive life. Never will I see Jude burst into tears when we tell him we’re going to leave the room. Instead, it is in that very moment of leaving the room that he cries in defiance. Likewise, if something mildly traumatic happened yesterday- such as a favorite toy breaking and bopping him upside the noggin- it’s all forgotten about in a matter of a few cuddles.
Jude celebrated his seven-month milestone in style, spending the day swimming about our family friend’s pool in his ducky yellow blow-up ring and tie-dye suit. When Jude sports the full-piece suit, I can only describe it in terms of a miniature jiihadist with the rectangular Styrofoam pieces, eerily resembling explosives, sewn into the sides. It ensures that even in the event that the ring somehow capsizes, he’ll still be buoyant. Jude even has pairs of water diapers that deceivingly look like regular ones. We very quickly learned the difference when my middle ended up soaking wet as Jude wrapped his long legs around me as I carried him around when the three of us stopped in town for lunch.
I always enjoy hearing stories from grandparents about how back in their day there were no car seats, floatation devices, or any safety standards for that matter. Now, we practically gift-wrap our little ones in the event that a natural disaster strikes in the supermarket. However, as the old adage goes, “Better safe than sorry.”
Recently, Matt brought back to our apartment a tub of my clothes I had been storing at his parent’s house. As I rummaged through, I was delighted to discover that I can fit into all the size 8 pants I wore last summer teaching ESL in Boston. Even two weeks ago, I had to really shimmy, huff and puff to squeeze into the lone pair I kept at my apartment. After I managed to get them on, the button never wanted to cooperate and I would walk around in fear of sitting as my excess tummy skin threatened to come pouring out like molten lava.
Feeling quite tickled, I also found a pair of stretchy GAP pj pants that I wore non-stop during the last week of my pregnancy when I could no longer put my shoes on without assistance. They’re size XL, with pink flowers against a maroon background. Holding the waistline up to my stomach, I felt like Subway’s Jared after he began devouring low-cal sandwiches in place of pure, unadulterated lard. I’m going to keep them just to remind myself of how big I once was.
Other news is that Matt and I bought tickets out to Portland for August 20th to scope the scene out. We're going just the two of us for one week, which means it'll be an easier trip without the baby and all of his accessories, but at the same time I can't imagine not being with him for an entire week!