Presenting the new and improved Boychen

I mentioned in my last post that Boychen has taken a turn for the cheeful. Here's proof.

Boychen, sleeping

A break in the storm

Today, perhaps sensing how close to the edge Mama is, Boychen pulls out all the stops to charm me. He falls back asleep after the 7 a.m. nusring session, allowing me to shower before noon. He gazes at me from his bouncy chair while I eat breakfast without having to wolf it down or eat standing up with a baby in the Tragetuch. He plays on the floor mat, swatting out at the dangling monkey and watching in awe as I pull down the elephant that dances back up on its retracting string.* He seeks out my face and locks on to my eyes on the changing table, pumping his fat little legs, trying to smile, making funny little noises and saying "Baaah!" and "Aoo." He cries, but normal baby crying, not Seventh Circle of Hell crying, and then falls asleep on my chest.

Is there anything sweeter than a baby falling asleep on your chest?

We go for a walk, because that's what we do, but a short one, because I am tired of walking and even though it's a lovely day all I really want to do is hang out at home, listen to NPR, and watch biathlon. So instead of walking along the river, I just curl briefly through the Old Town and come back to the quiet apartment.** And when we come home Boychen stays asleep in the stroller, letting me eat lunch and write this. He really is doing his best to charm me today, but I have to say: Boychen, you had me at "Baaah."

I know this is just a brief respite, a break in the storm, and that I'm still out in the snow a long way from my cozy hearth. But I'm grateful for this repreive and content to biouvac here and get some rest before heading back out into the snow and finding my way home.

UPDATE: When Boychen sets out to charm, he really sets out to charm. I have watched sunrise over the Grand Canyon, I have watched sunset on the Swiss Alps, but nothing beats a baby's first real smile.

* Thanks to Australian Friend for the loan. This floor mat is much better than the one we have from Small Boy. It even plays Mozart!

** Small Boy is at The Farm, and for the millionth time I have to say, Let us all praise retired grandparents who live on a farm 20 minutes away and who love to host their grandson.

Snowstorm

The Boychen cries.

The Boychen cries and cries and cries until I feel like I'm lost in a snowstorm and can't see my way out of it and all I can think about, as the snow swirls around me, is how nice and cozy I was before I set out into this storm. Warm and safe at home by the fire with my little family of three, and I set out into this snowstorm by choice, ripping up all my comforts on an icicle wind.

He cries until I cry and think that we did, in fact, make a mistake; that all my ambivalence was well founded; that I've shredded my happy little family and tossed the pieces out into the winter wind; that we will never find a way to mend these four pieces; that we will never be happy again. He cries until I can't see through it anymore, until I can't remember if I love him.

He cries until I put him in the stroller and walk and walk and walk. I walk the streets of the most beautiful city in the world and see nothing. Without even looking up I walk past vistas that once made poetry pour out of me as easily as snow falling from the sky. I walk without thinking, I walk without direction, I walk without seeing. I walk until the Boychen sleeps.

When the Boychen sleeps I keep walking. I walk along the river, I walk past the embassy, I walk through the Old Town, I walk until I can hear something besides the sound of his cries. I walk until I look up. I look up until I see something. The Münsterturm keeping watch over the Old Town. A cherry-red tram reflected in the waters of the Aare. The slope of the Rosengarten. The cobblestones of the Old Town. The statue of Gerechtigkeit. I walk until I can see these things. I walk until I can breathe. I walk until I remember that I love him. Until this. Until this. I walk until this.

Bureaucracy American style, part last

Boychen is officially a US citizen and able to travel! Just one week after signing the forms, Boychen's Consular Report of Birth Abroad of a Citizen of the United States of America and passport arrived in the mail. One week. I'm astounded, actually. The Social Security card will come in a separate post from the US; it took about a month, I think, with Small Boy so we're still waiting on that.

Boychen's passport is one of the new electronic passports with the data chip embedded in it, which frankly I'm not all too happy about. I'm one of those crazy privacy advocates who think it's a security concern and will be the person in line in front of you at immigration unwrapping her son's passport from its packaging of tin-foil.

My appologies in advance for any delay this might cause.

The morning after

Waking up the morning after a colicky night - and yes, it's official, the Boychen is colicky - I have to scrape away the night before like a clean-up crew shovelling away the sludge that stays behind and fouls the house after a flood. Close my eyes. Breathe. Scrape. I walk Boychen to the hospital for his hip ultrasound and the cold morning air and fine drizzle help clear my mind. Breathe. Get the alpine air into my lungs. Let go of the night before.

In the waiting room Boychen is awake and content, pulling the entire room into his blue eyes. I murmur to him, play with his soft hair as long as a one year old's and as pretty as a girl's. The night before is gone now, left behind on the side of the road, and it's just the Boychen and me and I can see through the colic, past the colic, to the soft place that is my Boychen.

Getting ready for the ultrasound Boychen charms the nurse, holding her hostage with his eyes, his funny crooked little mouth - oh God I am dying for my first kiss from that crooked little mouth! - and his ernest expression. Waiting for the technician he is patient, staring around, waving his arms, accepting my kisses as his due. During the ultrasound he is skeptical, then suspicious, then alarmed and finally cries during the imaging of his left hip.

Then it is over. I quickly dress him - as quickly as one can dress a distressed seven-week old - and comfort-nurse him in the waiting room. I watch his eyes for the moment they flutter, roll back into his head milk-drunk, and then bundle him back into the snowsuit, the hat, the blanket, the stroller bag, and walk home again by a different tangle of streets than the ones that took me here. One tiny step of intention today, walking a new way, choosing a street rather than letting my feet mindlessly follow the same old path like migrating herds. At home Boychen sleeps in the stroller and I write by the dull grey daylight with a Mandelgipfeli - a croissant filled with sticky sweet almost paste - and a cup of coffee at my elbow.

It will pass it will pass it will pass. Every morning scrape away the night before and find my way back to the Boychen, the sticky sweet center of my Mandelgipfeli days.

Bureaucracy American style, part two

The US Embassy called today to let me know that the application materials for Boychen's US Passport, Social Security card and Consular Registration of Birth pass muster and we can come in to complete the process anytime during opening hours. The embassy is closed Monday through Wednesday of next week, but seems to be open Thursday and Friday, so maybe we can take care of this by the end of next week. Yay!

And the cold I have must be even worse than it feels, which is pretty awful, because at the end of the phone call the woman said "and Gute Besserig" which is Swiss for get well soon. So I guess I sound like crap.

Next step, Swiss passport and national ID card for the Boychen.

Hm, and probably for me, too. I'm eligible and I've been meaning to do it. It would be time.

The belated birth announcement card

We finally got our act together and ordered birth announcements, which arrived this week.

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.


Eure Kinder sind nicht Eure Kinder.
Es sind Söhne und Töchter der Sehnsucht des Lebens nach sich selbst.
Sie kommen durch Euch, aber nicht von Euch,
und obwohl sie mit Euch sind, gehören sie Euch doch nicht.
Ihr könnt ihnen Eure Liebe geben, aber nicht Eure Gedanken,
denn sie haben ihre eigenen Gedanken.
Ihr könnt ihrem Körper ein Heim geben, aber nicht ihrer Seele,
denn ihre Seele wohnt in Haus von morgen
das Ihr nicht besuchen könnt, nicht mal in Euren Träumen.

Bureaucracy, American style

Or how to get a US passport for a child born abroad, round two.

The requirements remain annoyingly onerous, but the US Embassy - at least in Bern - seems to have improved the process of registering the birth and applying for a passport and Social Security card since I went through this almost three years ago with Small Boy. I still need to provide Boychen's birth certificate, international version ("Extract of the Birth Registry Issued in Pursuance of the Convention signed at Vienna on September 8, 1976"); my passport; R's passport; and a copy of our marriage certificate. R and I were married in the US so I can just provide our license. Had we been married abroad I would need to request "Extract for the Marriage Registry Issue in Pursuance of the Convention signed at Vienna on September 8, 1976." Because only one of the Boychen's parents is a US citizen (that would be me), I need to provide evidence of my physical presence in the US for at least five years, two of which were after the age of 14.* This can be done through school records, tax returns, pay stubs, or the like. I just happen to have every report card I've ever gotten from Kindergarten through graduate school, so I'll be using those just like I did with Small Boy.** I still need to fill out but not sign form SS-5 for the Social Security number, form DS-11 for the passport, and Application for Consular Report of Birth Abroad form DS-2029. I stil lneed to provide two color passport photos with a plain white background and a maximum head size of 3.5cm and a minimum head size of 2.5 cm.*** I still need to go in person, with my infant child and non-citizen spouse, to complete the process.****

Where they seem to have improved the process is by sending you, upon request, an application packet with the necessary forms (no more searching and downloading! no more filling them out at the embassy while your baby cries!), two pages of instructions, and a sample completed form DS-2029. You can then fill out all the forms at home and send them, along with the passport photos and photocopies of the relevant documents, back to the embassy. Embassy staff will review the documents and contact you if there are problems. Once they have reviewed the application packet and have determined that everything is in order, only then do you go in person with your child (required by law) to the embassy to complete the process - which at that point involves signing the forms in the presence of a consular official and paying a total of 176.40 Swiss francs (US $147).*****

This preview by mail is a major improvement, since you are required by law to bring your minor child with you when you apply for a passport. It's a serious pain to go to the embassy with your child and non-citizen spouse during the work-week only to be told your passport photos are wrong and you have to come back another time. Or to be sent away from the desk repeatedly because something was wrong on your form DS-2029. So yay US Embassy in Bern. A change for the better.

Photos have been taken, documents have been copied, and I hope to make it to the Post in time to send off my packet for review today. Getting Boychen's passport, step one, has certainly been easier than getting Small Boy's was. With the holidays coming up, meaning the embassy will probably be closed for two weeks, I don't expect to actually get this done before the new year, but we'll see.

Coming tomorrow: Bureaucracy, Swiss style.

* If the law doesn't change, this means that if the Boychen lives his whole life in Switzerland and has a child one day, he will not be able to pass on his US citizenship. Bastards.

** Actually, wouldn't simply showing them Small Boy's registration of birth suffice, since it proves I've gone through this rigamarole successfully once already? But that would be too easy.

*** If you live in or near Bern and you need US passport photos for an infant, save yourself some bother and just go to FotoDany on Waisenhausplatz. They know what they're doing.

**** If only one parent appears, the non-appearing parent needs to provide a notarized letter of consent and a copy of a valid signed passport. This is so that I can't give Boychen US citizenship without R's consent.

***** Amazingly, the price has not gone up since I did this with Small Boy.

Continued in part two, part three, part last, and part last subsection one.

And here he is...

Home

Discharged today. Home. Total chaos, but good.

FYI, Boychen left the hospital weighing 3470g - a gain of 80 grams during the period where infants typically lose up to 250 grams. Maybe I'll get that chubby baby after all.

Boys

Small Boy has already said "I love you Baby." Then again, he also said "Hor uf Boychen! Hor uf!" (Stop [actually used Boychen's proper name]! Stop!" so, you know.

(Here's an interesting aside. So far Small Boy seems to address The Boychen predominantly in English. Huh? What made him decide that? He is a linguistic mixed salad, as a former teacher of mine used to say.)

Hair

Did I mention that Boychen has a full head of hair at least an inch long all over? Seriously. The boy came out needing a haircut. And whereas Small Boy is fair of hair, Boychen is dark like his Dada.

27 minutes

I’ve got my computer in the hospital with me but only intermittent Internet access; R and I are sharing a network card and he’s got it in Zurich with him now. Does it count for NaBloPoMo that I’m typing this on Tuesday and will post it Wednesday when I get my crack at the network card? (R skipped Zurich Monday, went Tuesday [today], will skip half of Wednesday and probably all of Thursday and then go back to Zurich on Friday. Probably. This works fine for me and the Boychen since we’re just hanging out in the hospital all week anyway; but Small Boy is getting shuttled between home and The Farm more than we had hoped would happen.)

So far Boychen is a sleeper but they always are the first day or two so we’ll see if that changes. And early babies tend to be big sleepers, too, although thanks to those 27 minutes past midnight he is not, technically, preterm. Monday, the day he was born, marked 37 weeks and 0 days – medically, the definition of a full-term pregnancy. Had Boychen arrived just an hour earlier – just before midnight instead of just after – he would have arrived in the 36th week of pregnancy and technically would have been considered pre-term. Clearly a matter of an hour is meaningless in terms of his physical development – the closer you get to the 37 week mark the more arbitrary a line it seems, really. In Boychen’s case – will he emerge just before or just after midnight? – it was a truly arbitrary marker but not one without meaning. Had he arrived just an hour earlier, had he arrived any time on Sunday, the hospital would have been obligated to classify him as a pre-term baby, which in turn would have obligated them to run a few additional tests on him and to monitor him more closely and more frequently during our hospital stay.

Those 27 minutes – which were completely meaningless in terms of in utero development – put him on the other side of the line and gets us out additional testing requirements.

Random, no?

And yeah, how huge is he for 37 weeks? Had we gone to 40 we’d have been looking at C-section for sure. As it was…well, I’ll attempt the labor and delivery story when I can face it. But let me just say for now that I’m a good mother, and I rock at breastfeeding, but apparently I just suck at labor and delivery.

The Boychen is here

This morning at 00.27 am The Boychen arrived. Three weeks early, 3390 grams (7.5 pounds), 49 cm (19 inches), healthy and beautiful.

I am in love.

Again.

More later.