Photos! (Finally)

Here are two photos that we recently retrieved from Jessica's father's camera. Four generations of Lovetts!


Fortunately, nothing as exciting as the arrival of an ambulance and fire truck to wake a sleeping baby happened this week. Unfotunately, that means that those of you who wait with breathless anticipation for our next blog entry have been a bit underwhelmed by our recent output. So, to bring you up to speed with all the groundbreaking news: Morgen is bigger than ever (look out, Olympic gymnasts, she's catching up fast), the parents are tired as ever, and (drumroll please) Jessica has a new hairdo for the first time in ...

In other news, Morgen is beginning to develop her own musical tastes. She really likes '50s rock 'n roll (I sang Johnny B. Goode to her a capella, which she thought was hilarious), and she also seems partial to John Denver songs. In this particular photo, she is listening raptly to my somewhat-less-than-brilliant version of "Rocky Mountain High".

Like Father, Like Daughter.

Nothing scarey about this nap!

To Err on the Side of Caution

Most of you know that when it comes to personal health and safety, I'm not exactly a risk taker. I don't do drugs, I don't smoke, and I don't drink and drive, not even a little bit, not even once. It's true that I have played indoor volleyball without kneepads, but I did so more with trepidation than with stoic athleticism.
So, this morning, when we couldn't wake baby Morgen no matter what we did, and when the question was: do we wait it out until 10:00am when the pediatric clinic opens, or do we call Telehealth right away, the answer was certain. We called Telehealth. (For those of you who do not live in Ontario, Telehealth is a free, 24-hour service that allows you to speak with a registered nurse about your health concerns. It's supposed to improve general public health by providing a trustworthy source of information, and is intended to reduce uneccessary visits to the emergency room.)
We've called Telehealth three times since Morgen was born. The first time, the nurse suggested that we go to the emergency department, and after four or five hours a doctor said "You're first time parents, aren't you? This [pointing to the huge pile of diapers that had accumulated in only one hour] is completely normal. You'll be back next week thinking she's constipated." We were duly chastened. The second time, the Telehealth nurse reassured us that Morgen was in no immediate danger, and told us to see a doctor at a clinic the next day. The doctor said that the condition was "viral" and would pass in a week or so. I like to think that Telehealth got that one right. This morning, the nurse asked about three questions, then called an ambulance, and transferred me to 911. SPOILER: Morgen is fine now, but I'm still a bit stressed.
I was shocked that the nurse decided we needed an ambulance - we expected her to tell us (at worst) to go to the emergency room or (at best) to wait until 10:00 am for the clinic to open. I heard sirens getting steadily louder as the lady from 911 gave me instructions meant to help Morgen regain consciousness. Gavin went out to meet the emergency workers. I heard creaks across the ceiling as my upstairs neighbour ran to look out her front window. Inside on the phone, I never reached the "C" in Airway, Breathing, Circulation. It had taken less than 5 minutes for help to arrive.
Three firefighters in coveralls and boots, two paramedics in blue suits, and Gavin all tramped into our living room. And Morgen opened her eyes just in time to give everyone a big "good morning" grin.
After the firefighters left, the paramedics checked Morgen's blood sugar and temparature - they gave up on determining her pulse because the equipment was too large. She seemed perfectly fine, although a little subdued and pale. They then offered to drive us to whatever hospital we wanted to go to - and when we said that our doctor worked in a clinic at St. Joe's, they said "We'll take you to the emergency room there...and if you decide to go to a different department, well, that's totally your decision (wink wink, nod nod), eh?" There was something subversive about these guys - one with short hair, pierced ears and a hemp necklace, the other with long hair and slyly sarcastic. Both seemed to feel they were fighting on the good side of 'the force', and I've got to agree. Still, Gavin and I decided to drive ourselves, feeling that these guys might have to be somewhere else more urgently.
As Gavin signed some paperwork explaining why we declined the lift, I apologized for everything. I felt like we had stolen all of these emergency personell away from their jobs. I could just hear the doctor at St. Joe's emerg department tutting "Haven't you guys learned yet?" But the paramedics insisted that we shouldn't worry about it, and insisted that we go see a doctor even though Morgen seemed all right (we did). And they left us with this nugget: next time this happens, "don't call Telehealth, just call us." There might have been some snickering.

Lesson learned. Still, I'm not sure I'll be able to get rid of this habit of mine - I think I have to blame (and thank) my parents for teaching me to err on the side of caution. Do I like Telehealth very much right now? I guess the honest answer is that I have mixed feelings about it at the moment. But I really do like paramedics. And firefighters. And 911 operators.

Happy Places

Morgen went on her first subway ride today, in order to meet David, Angela, and Rowan at Dufferin Grove Park.  The park includes a trendy foodstand with organic and vegetarian offerings, a splash pad, a penned-in playground, and lots of shady areas with tables and benches. People of all ages congregate there, and I used to eat my lunch there when I worked at The RCM across the street. Then, it would always be a quiet escape. Today, the place was hopping. As we walked in, we passed several large family groups enjoying the park during the civic holiday. Children of all sizes were streaming around the equipment, making new friends, running away from their parents, etc. It was great.While Rowan played, Morgen snacked, and then looked around a bit before the inevitable happened. We then continued her day of firsts by helping her experience the open air.

Have we mentioned that Morgen's favourite place in the world (so far) is her change table? She loves it. The change mat seems to inspire her to grin, coo, wave her arms, and kick her legs. She brought a little bit of that spirit to her outdoor change today. In fact, she loved being outside and naked so much that I think we'll have to keep an eye on her. Later on, of course. Right now it's just cute, cute, cute.

Pass the baby

Morgen made four new friends over the last few days. Five, if you count the doctor who gave her her shots...but should we count the doctor, really?

First, Rhanda and Glen came by for dinner, giving us lots of opportunity to discuss babies and theology, then Wendy swung by for lunch, providing not only lunch, but also some much needed moral support during a breastpump and bottle purchase. On Thursday Kelli came to play surrogate parent during our two-month check-up, since Gavin had to be on campus to teach his German class and meet with the Capito Project staff.

Morgen is just fine, according to the doctor - in fact, we've very little to report besides the fact that Morgen cried just a little bit - about as much as Mom did. She now weighs 5.420 kg according to the fancy hospital baby scale - we're too lazy to dig the calculator out to do the conversion to pounds, but if it helps at all, she is now firmly in the 3 to 6-month clothing size. That's pretty advanced, for a two-month old, don't you think? Anyway, Morgen slept most of the day away after her appointment, only to awake in the wee hours of the morning, bright eyed and twitchy-limbed, wanting to play....Four years ago I got up at about the same time on August 1st to have my hair and makeup done for the wedding...so Morgen's timing was perfect.