a few shots of september

Building a moat with mom.

Sand beard!

Beach toys passed on from Mama Pops!

Model poses

August 2010

It's play time!

Intensity at the walker play station.

Torture getting down to the beach.  O's first time in a double stroller and he kept trying to grab baby Rhett's nose, eyes, cheeks--whatever he could reach! Ouch, manners, please!

Practicing his moves at the park. 

Now we're talking: sand beard!!  Can't you taste the grit and salt?

First time

Omari survived his first night of fever.  He didn't lose his appetite for milk and with plenty of chamomile tea calmly suffers through the body heat.  The question of childhood illness seems to be less of whether the child will pull through, but how the parents come out on the other end.

Eight Months Old Day!

Omari is growing up into a growly lion.  He relishes gruff, low voice exercises any time of day--when in doubt, growl about it.  His favorite word: "Ma-maa-ma-maaa" and does he know it really goes to me, or is it his expression of all desire, need, want and depths of emotion?    His favorite actions: free-fall hitting with his whole arm, usually on himself, and biting and devouring--pacifiers, paper, shoulders, blocks.   He suffered his first week of daily "meals."  Rice, oatmeal, peach, whey, yogurt, avacado, egg yolk--it all goes down a teeny-tiny bite at a time with a grimace; however, he seems to be almost agreeable to the creamy, warm egg yolk and drinks his Juice Plus from a dropper like any hungry baby bird.

He can now sit at the big table and throw toys off the side!

He even proved his infant patience by hanging out with us at Port City Java for an hour and more, watching people and listening to the grindings and bangings behind the coffee counter.

April showers

Even O has his bad days.

Bathtime brings much glee.

Bundled up and ready to ride. 

Thinking back to his fourth month, is relief that he survived the "fourth trimester" and the last month of being little infant who can't do anything, not even sit up.  His grins at recognizing me and grimaces over gassiness were his prevailing notable moods.  We had fun with two showers upon returning home, heaped with the generous gifts of friends who have long awaited his arrival. 

March--Three Months Old

The racing farmer look.

An example of sleeping unsafely: fuzzy lion under baby's head, bib around neck, extra unsecured blanket under body.   I.e.:  cosy.

First Bath

Not his first time to get clean, and of course they give a bath in the hospital.  But, this (at the end of January) was my first time to bathe him in the sink, his own big bowl bathing.  

Pose, now!

He likes being in the water, but not the cold air afterwards.  He cried.

Six Weeks Old

Look at him!  12 pounds of chunky baby legs.  It's a regular morning diaper change.

Takes his first trip to the zoo with his cousins, where we saw a wise old elephant and inquisitive giraffes,

and a farm where they grow rare breeds of animals.

And Mama Pops came to visit all the way from Texas.

 

Papa John teaches me how to give kisses every night before bedtime.

I hang out with mom at Meridees coffee shop and bakery.

And at the end of the day, I swing myself to sleep--it's a lot of work being a growing baby.

One Month Old!

Such an old man!

He's serious about eating.  And spent his one month birthday on frivolous entertainment: his first trip to the zoo and an evening of live music at the local cafe, where his mom got her first job.

The Place where I was Born

Drive past the long-fenced fields,

through the old, time worn streets,

until you arrive at Mercy.

He's ready to Go

Symbolically, Omari wore his baby-blue flight suit upon leaving the hospital.  He spent the morning bidding farewell to his birth parents.  After tears and laughing together over his double set of names, the irony of giving birth to a little one only to let him go, and reclaiming the reasons they had to care for him this way, we spent a hallowed quarter hour in the birthing room, Omari and his parents who were caught in the act of giving and receiving.  The moment of making that decision seems to stretch out indefinitely.  Who can tell what unseen power is tugging at our hearts at such a time?

On a bright morning in a tiny town called Independence, Omari's giving was signed and sealed by the wavering will of man, according to his life's course written on the eternal tablets of the Book of Life.  His birthparents' decision that day was not so much in question as confirming what they had already chosen as the best way to care for him and themselves.  And we were there to receive him with hearts long prepared for him.   

Nana drove us to Wichita.

We got packed up and checked out with the help of his nurse, fitting him properly into the carseat, and walking out with our several little bags of lotions, formula, diapers and bottles.  Our case worker was there to see us off, and wish us luck, with congratulations.  Pictures were taken, and we headed out across the Flint Hills to await an audience with the Judge before we could leave the state a week later.

Introducing {Aric Omari}

Statistics
15 December 2009

Born: 12:33 pm
Weight: 7 lbs, 10 oz.
Length: 21 inches

He was born hungry, screaming at the kiss of cold air on his tender bum, and then wide eyed at the bright lights and cacophony of voices coming out of the black box in front of his bed.   His birth mom and birth dad held him and considered his burrito-bundled form, which the nurse had swaddled to calm his quaking limbs.  With light skin and dark hair, we first noticed his striking eyes, whose lids thoughtfully unfurled to reveal a serene spirit.