Iver is Six!

Iver weighs around 40 pounds (if our home scale is accurate) and is three feet, eight inches tall, still pretty petite and slim.

He is in 5T-6T clothes, and size 11 shoes (wearing almost 100% crocs. He's partial to slip-ons, flip-flops, and the like).

He is particular about his clothes, which he chooses, and loves to wear leggings, shorts, and tank tops (even in winter). His favorite colors are "rainbow,"  pink (note the pants!), purple, blue, silver, and gold. He is sensitive to tags and textures.

He is still quite the spunky, spirited, and opinionated child. There are a lot of negotiations in this house but they're more sophisticated these days, and he argues some good points.

He is very passionate and has big emotions.

He is sensitive, kind, and very attentive, and has some perfectionistic tendencies (not surprising based on how his parents are). 

He loves to play with his little brother (he definitely likes to be the one in charge, though, and sometimes is a bit rougher than we'd like).

His memory is impeccable. He will never let you forget if you tell him you'll do something.

His favorite people in the world include his aunt Kat, preschool teacher Angela, and us. 

He has yet to set foot in public school, attending "Zoom" kindergarten at a K-5 charter Spanish immersion school while going to LL childcare. He loves learning and likes school, but can't stand Zoom (and his happy that there's no "school" for two weeks for the holidays).

He is reading many words and short books, and loves writing cards, letters, and notes to friends, family, and teachers (especially in cursive).

He is really good at math, can tell time, and do basic multiplication and some fractions.

He is learning some palabras en español through "school." He knows many animals, colors, can say a few short phrases as well as count to one hundred (cien) in Spanish.

He has mastered how to use the computer, mouse, "mute button," and perform web searches.

He loves science and is very into learning about reptiles, particularly snakes and komodo dragons, and doing projects.

He enjoys drawing (including cartoons from YouTube tutorials), making greeting cards, pop-up art, and more. 

He loves to construct forts and "traps" around the house (à la Home Alone), and loves jumping on/off couches and doing cartwheels.

He is passionate about singing along to soundtracks (recent favorites include Hamilton and Alvin and the Chipmunks as well as the One Voice Children's Choir) and dancing. 

When he’s allowed screen time (during Niall’s weekend naptime), he enjoys Disney princess videos on YouTube, nature shows, and his favorite movies currently are Home Alone, Incredibles, and Descendants.

His favorite animal is the unicorn (and he requested a unicorn cake for his birthday...see pictures below).

He excels at riding his bike around the neighborhood and our town, and loves climbing rocks and playing at the beach.

He now has a good appetite is a pretty good eater, including vegetables, although he tends to be picky about textures and a bit hesitant to try new/unfamiliar things. His favorite foods include sausage, breakfast foods, chicken, pizza, noodle dishes, and fruit. He does have a sweet tooth (we allow dessert on two nights of the week, which he gets to pick). He does not like: seafood, rice, and tofu (unlike his brother, who seems to be his opposite in many ways).

We haven't challenged him in a while, but may still be allergic to peanuts. 

He (terrible for 1-2 years) has actually turned into a good sleeper, rarely fighting at bedtime, and sleeps from about 8 p.m. to 6 a.m. in a room (and sometimes a bed) he shares with his brother.

He can brush his teeth (all of which he still has), wipe his own butt (although at home he likes to use our quarantine bidet), and shower independently.

Then (his first Christmas as a four-day-old)...

... and now

We "celebrated" his birthday some on Sunday because I take Monday OB call, which can be unpredictable in whether or not/how much I can be home in the evenings. 

We had a lovely sunny (and warm!) December day, where we hung out at Baker Beach. 

 "feeding" me a crab leg

Iver helped me with Unicorn baking

Here's my very "nailed it" two-layer Unicorn cake, which Iver thought was so funny (I did, too!). I'm not a big fan of nor proficient at baking, but for some reason I thought I'd take a crack at his request this year!  The frosting job is ALL mine! 

 

He loved wearing this new shirt, from Kellie.

We walked around Woodley Island Marina in the evening, which was Iver's birthday request (totally understanding about a "party" not being an option this year), and then drove around to see some Christmas lights. 

Pile o' gifts from his oh-so-generous aunts, uncles, grandparents, and more!

On his actual birthday, he enjoyed opening gifts (some in the morning, and some later), wearing the "birthday" crown at childcare, and sharing homemade cupcakes with his friends (and cutting the cake later at home-- even though we realized we forgot to put his "6" candle on!).  I caught one baby this morning on my call day, who shares his big day (but was happy to have not been the one in labor!), and was home a bit later than I'd planned due to another admission, but got to see him at the end of the day, too!

 

We had mixed the batter to make a "rainbow" inside! Fancy!!!

There were lots of unicorn-themed gifts, including some toys from Theresa, a paint-your-own light from Kat, book from my parents, and some science gifts, as well as some workbooks and clothes. 

 

He had many cards, calls, and messages from friends and relatives.  He really felt loved. Thank you to everyone who reached out to make his "COVID birthday" a great one!

Iver has been incredibly resilient and happy despite this year of loss and grief, and I'm confident that SIX will be a great year!

 

 

Got the Shot!

This week, I saw many of my medical friends, colleagues, and other frontline health workers posting photos on social media of "Got the [COVID-19] Shot." It brought so much joy to my heart to see this miracle in action, and I was eager to get my own vaccine, whenever it was offered to me. I definitely didn't want to "jump any lines," as there are many people who likely are closer to more potential COVID patients than I am, but I also have been increasingly uncomfortable and paranoid in labor rooms especially during patients' second stages (the pushing part) with all the exertion and aerosolization of breath, saliva, etc., and when patients are generally unmasked (women pushing on hands and knees make me sigh with relief, as they're faced away and it's a great birthing position!). We've still had pretty low local case numbers in our rural county (daily case numbers in the teens-30s), compared to the rest of the country; however, cases have been rising in the last month (I've had co-workers and friends, as well as several patients, test positive), and we're all nervous and bracing for a higher surge with low human and facility resources. 

Like many healthcare workers this year, my biggest concern (more so than getting "ill" with COVID, as I'm a young and healthy person without any underlying health conditions) has been my overwhelming anxiety about the "what-ifs" about bringing it home to my family and kids, who attend group childcare, and all of the implications if one of us tested positive. Who would take the extra OB call when we're already all exhausted and stretched too thin?  Who would step up in clinic while we watched isolated or quarantined kids at home, not being able to rely on any other childcare due to the infectiousness of this virus but still feeling a commitment to our patients and trying to not leave our colleagues out on a limb? How many other teachers, kids, and families would be affected if one of my children "got it"? When could we ever feel safe or comfortable enough to take the risk to have family visit?  I basically felt that I could not be the one to suggest a physically distant social walk or chat, because my risk allocation was “all used up” by my profession and kids, I was the most likely vector of disease for transmission, and I didn't want anyone to be uncomfortable nor feel unsafe (and definitely didn't want to have the responsibility of making "I'm sorry"/ contact-tracing phone calls). We had two scares and COVID rule-outs when each of the kids had a cough/fever but they were regular old URIs to which we understandably overreacted. The burden felt very weighty for me/us, which is why the possibility of a vaccine on the horizon felt so incredibly hopeful (I told many people that "all I want for Christmas is my COVID vaccine!").  

I know the vaccine rollout feels fast, and it is (that's what the urgency, will, and science, with some money, can do!). But that doesn't mean it's unsafe, and if the vaccine skeptics out there want to wait for a bit, I hope they're convinced by us healthcare workers/guinea pigs volunteering to get one first (after those who already self-enrolled in the clinical trials), and that they realize the risks of not getting this vaccine (and living like this) far outweigh any *theoretical* long-term risks of the vaccine, as is my medical opinion. I’m about as pro-vax as they come, and I don't know any doctors that aren't planning to get a vaccine when given the chance.  Like many drugs and vaccines, these mRNA vaccines have not been studied in pregnant or lactating women and many may opt out at this time for that reason, but if I were pregnant based on my understanding of the science (and because COVID-19 can be so serious in this population), I would definitely get it, too, which is what I've shared with my patients (ACOG, CDC, and MFM organizations agree that it's not unreasonable for this group to get the vaccine after shared decision-making despite the lack of data).

Kelvin has led our organization's COVID-19 response and has been involved in the discussions about local vaccine distribution. The hospitals (actually quite surprising, as we're a rural area without a lot of COVID) got a shipment of the Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine this week, and started vaccinating hospital frontline staff, including RTs, nurses, emergency department personnel and hospital-based physicians including those in the ICU, surgery, and medicine units. While I work in the labor and delivery unit about every fourth day managing laboring patients and catching babies, in the OR performing cesareans, and consult on emergency department patients for gynecologic and OB concerns, I am not considered a "hospital employee" but rather employed by our FQHC and mostly clinic-based in my direct patient care duties. I knew I'd be one of the first in our organization to be offered the vaccine due to the inpatient work, but I didn't know how long it would be in terms of weeks or months. 

After I saw some of my nursing friends getting inoculated, I had reached out to the hospital chief nursing officer on Thursday afternoon to inquire if clinicians like us OB providers could also be offered the vaccine if the hospital had enough for all of those first responders, and was told "not now, but maybe later."  Nevertheless (after undoubtedly some advocacy by my nurse friend, Patricia), I got a call on Friday (the very next morning) from him that "they had a few extra thawed and if I could pop over, I could get one." Unfortunately, I was working in my primary care clinic about a ten-minute drive away and didn't see how, with patients scheduled every fifteen minutes, I was going to be able to make this work (as desperately as I wanted to). However, the stars aligned and I miraculously had a no-show, which allowed me to race to the hospital, fill out a brief form, get poked, get my vaccine card, and be observed for about 15 minutes, before I had to dash back to clinic to continue with my office visits, which ran mostly on time for the rest of the morning (Hamilton’s “I’m not throwing away my shot” lyrics were running through my head!).  It truly felt like I'd won the lottery, and I was like a child on Christmas morning, in awe of a miracle (and a huge gift).

In all this last-minute rush and haste, I didn't get a masked "action shot" of getting the vaccine like I saw many friends take, but it's not the picture, but the act, which was the milestone here. It truly felt historic. Kelvin took this photo at home in the evening, where I think the joy on my face is evident (and while my arm is still pretty sore a day later, and I had mild aches and fatigue last night, I observed no serious ill effects). I go back on January 8th for my booster.

I know there are so many people out there who desperately want and need this shot (I've had soooo many of my patients ask me anxiously when they'll be able to get the vaccine!), and I am sensitive that as an American healthcare worker, I was so fortunate to get one so early, this week, while others in the general public (and across the world) may have to wait months or more.  I am so relieved that, to date, my family has dodged COVID and us adults are eligible for the shot (my kids also want theirs, as soon as a pediatric one may be available!). And while I know that relative and temporary "vaccine scarcity" due to high demand is not the worst problem in the world for this country to have, every person that gets the shot now is less likely to spread this virus to those most vulnerable and still-unvaccinated, and everyone will ultimately benefit from the people who are in this first wave of recipients. When I felt that needle in my arm, the tears that came out were not from the pain of the stick, but mostly of relief and joy (while mixed with some guilt and the sorrow for those who suffered through or succumbed to this disease before this vaccine was available). For me, it truly felt like an injection of hope. All these long months of sacrifice, being stuck at home with spirited little kids, missing travel, not seeing family and not having outings with friends, not having in-person kindergarten for Iver or playdates for either of my children, not going in a library or anywhere besides work (and the occasional grocery store) and all of the grief, just seemed to recede in their consequence, because V-day was here (for me, at least).  

It takes several weeks (probably two weeks after the second shot) for me to be near-fully protected from COVID-19. Kelvin hopes to get his in the coming weeks or month. We don't know if vaccinated/immune people are still capable of asymptomatic spread, nor how long immunity will last, so masking and distancing are still important and our lives won't change much for the near or intermediate-term future, but this vaccination felt like such a blessing and validates our strong efforts this year at staying safe (and makes them far easier to keep doing). This is the beginning of the end. We have turned a corner. There is light at the end of this long COVID tunnel. Thank God for science.  Joy comes in the morning. 

BEST. CHRISTMAS. GIFT. EVER.

I can't wait for all of you to get your shot at the shot(s), too! Let’s move forward (and look forward to herd immunity) and say goodbye to horrible 2020.

Ho-Ho-Hope and Peace

It's been an incredibly long and bleak year, for parents, healthcare workers, and all humans around the globe (I know very few people who aren't utterly exhausted). However, it is currently "the holiday season," and "the most wonderful time of the year," the month we (in our family) celebrate Jesus’ birth, among other things. 

I am feeling so hopeful and at peace these days.

Our oldest son turns six in a week, and, while challenging and still very spirited, he's an amazing little human. My kids are healthy, safe, and still so happy despite this pandemic year and all that they're missing. 

"Bath Santa"

"Ho Ho Ho!"

I love all things Christmas-- reflecting on the miracle of Christ's birth, the carols and music (except for The Chipmunks' album, which is driving me a little nuts at the moment but which the kids love), the decor and lights, the movies, thoughtful gift-giving, and the joy of little kids (Iver has really been into "Home Alone-ing" our house, as well as making holiday art and cards). 

This year, I don't have to *work* on Christmas Day, which makes "Santa prep" and other Christmasy things quite a bit easier (Kelvin didn't grow up with the concept of Santa, so I have to re-explain it every year and handle the logistics, so the magic-making [as well as the general gift-planning and purchasing] inevitably falls on me. The years as a parent when I've been on call over the Christmas holiday and have had to give him detailed instructions have been nerve-racking!). I still have a lot of wrapping to do, from the package-palooza that is the result of our (and our generous families') online shopping efforts this year (although I proudly stayed away from Amazon and shopped at Lakeshore, Mindware, and other smaller businesses/on Etsy). 

Iver's very wishful "Santa" list

We aren't going anywhere nor having visitors for Christmas this year, which (although we enjoy travel and love and miss our families) feels so peaceful (Kelvin's parents, who are really missing the grandsons they haven't seen in almost a year despite living in the same state, were going to come up to help us with childcare but we thought the risk was not worth it and cancelled). I still have PTSD from perhaps the most horrendous travel day of my life last year, trying to get to Virginia before flying to the Dominican Republic for Christmas with my parents. I am really looking forward to being "home" to celebrate the holiday quietly this year, which we have so rarely done in the last decade.

I've become so much better about saying "no" to the things (especially holidays things such as workplace Secret Santa exchanges, holiday baking, etc.) that don't bring me or my family joy, particularly this year when we have all felt like we’re just barely holding it together. Between Iver's late-December birthday and all of the usual "school" and holiday celebrations and social/work events, I tend to be pretty overwhelmed in December (suffering from "festive stress") and look forward to "breathing" come January. A podcast (and blog, The Mom Hour) I follow had a great article which captures how I'm feeling about how big a blessing a Quarantine Christmas can be this year in using this precious quiet time at home to make your holiday season anything you want it to be--without cultural, societal, or family pressures to do things that are somehow "expected" of us or which make us uncomfortable. (And why not carry this to future years?). It’s nice to be able to make up some of your own traditions (as we really have none to date!).

And then there is HOPE for the New Year. Yesterday, the Electoral College ratified Joe Biden's election victory despite Trump and Republicans' (failed) attempts to subvert our democracy and stage a coup. I can’t wait (sigh of relief) until I don’t have to worry about DJT and his damage on a daily basis. And on the very same day and in the culmination of truly heroic scientific efforts for the benefits of public health and in less than one year since COVID began to rock the world, the first Americans started receiving the first (Pfizer) FDA-emergency-approved COVID-19 vaccine at sites across the country (the previous record for vaccine [MMR] development was four years). Our local rural county got one shipment of the Pfizer vaccine and, while I will not be in the first group to receive it, I am so looking forward to the day in the coming weeks or months when I, as a healthcare worker also doing inpatient work, can get protected with it or another approved (maybe Moderna) COVID vaccine when it’s my turn in line. I am increasingly paranoid while caring for laboring patients, who have a hard time keeping masks on while pushing out babies, while our community spread is rising (my clinic patients, who are universally masked, make me less nervous, but some have also come to test positive for COVID).

I am grieving very hard for the people and families becoming sick, or dying, from this virus at this time, in the "eleventh hour," which I feel is reminiscent of what happened to so many of the prisoners in concentration camps, like Anne Frank, who perished just before liberation. More than 3,000 Americans per day were dying last week, which is like a 9-11 or Pearl Harbor national tragedy every twenty-four hours.  It really does feel like V-day around here with this vaccine, which some have likened to a “shot of hope.” Seeing the joy in people’s masked faces as they get immunized has given me chills, and tears. We're just trying to stay safe, masked, and distanced and hang on, praying we don’t get sick before we adults get vaccinated (our kids can’t wait to get their Corona shot, too, when it’s available for pediatric patients). It is so much easier to do these things when it feels like this could be the "beginning of the end" of this horrible pandemic, if we just stay strong and don’t let our guard down. 

I recently re-read Dr. Maya Angelou's Poem "Amazing Peace" and the words are so fitting for our current times. I hope reading it also brings you hope, and peace, this holiday season. 

Amazing Peace: A Christmas Poem,  by Maya Angelou

Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes
And lightning rattles the eaves of our houses.
Flood waters await us in our avenues.

Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche
Over unprotected villages.
The sky slips low and grey and threatening.

We question ourselves.
What have we done to so affront nature?
We worry God.
Are you there? Are you there really?
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?

Into this climate of fear and apprehension, Christmas enters,
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
The world is encouraged to come away from rancor,
Come the way of friendship.

It is the Glad Season.
Thunder ebbs to silence and lightning sleeps quietly in the corner.
Flood waters recede into memory.
Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us
As we make our way to higher ground.

Hope is born again in the faces of children
It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.
Hope spreads around the earth. Brightening all things,
Even hate which crouches breeding in dark corridors.

In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness.
The word is Peace.
It is loud now. It is louder.
Louder than the explosion of bombs.

We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.
It is what we have hungered for.
Not just the absence of war. But, true Peace.
A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.
Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.

We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.
We beckon this good season to wait a while with us.
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.
Peace.
Come and fill us and our world with your majesty.
We, the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confucian,
Implore you, to stay a while with us.
So we may learn by your shimmering light
How to look beyond complexion and see community.

It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.

On this platform of peace, we can create a language
To translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.

At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ
Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues at the coming of hope.
All the earth's tribes loosen their voices
To celebrate the promise of Peace.

We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Non-Believers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation.

Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul.