Forgive Us, For It Has Been Much Too Long Since Our Last Post

Whoever said time flies wasn't kidding. It's hard to believe that it's September and Eamonn is now 7 months old! Where did the time go? Well, he's grown a bunch and learned a few new tricks. As not-so-new parents we've settled quite nicely into a routine. Eamonn has proven to be his mother's child by developing a deep love for sleeping; as early as 2.5 months old he started sleeping through the night. The last several months have been significant in physical changes - here the little man shows his newfound desire for sleeping on his tummy.






After multiple attempts spent trying to spark an interest in Eamonn's desire to enjoy his "tummy time" we gave up and just let him wait until he was good and ready. At first he seemed hesitant to give it a go,
but now he's demonstrated his physical strength and endurance. Check him out as he shows off while carrying his new friend
"Carl the Cameleon" on his back! Quite a far cry from the tentative wee one he once was.



In addition to learning how to roll over (without the use of a cookie) Eamonn has mastered the art of sitting up. He's definitely enjoying the view from above ground level and seems quite content, don't ya think?



We know that we've let much too much time go by without a post, so we promise that from this point forward we will keep you up to date, informed, entertained, and amazed by the latest and greatest happenings of baby Eamonn. Here's a montage of some of the stages of Eamonn's growth that have occurred over the last 6 months - enjoy!


April May

June July

August September

Milk, It Does A Baby's Body Good!

In a world where life seems to fly by, a month in the life of a newborn is no exception. It's hard to believe that one month has already passed since little Eamonn came into this world! Yesterday's one month pediatric visit yielded a weigh in of 9 pounds and 3 ounces - a whopping three pounds gained since leaving the hospital! And he's got the double chin and Buddha belly to prove it!

Sean and I were so pleased, especially since the weight gain had all been from breast milk, so we decided that it called for a celebratory bottle.....for Eamonn, that is. After four weeks of standing by as my co-pilot, patiently being my "go for" man, Sean was finally able to help participate in the feedings of our little man with his first bottle of expressed milk. It was an exciting venture for us (funny how events such as these now tickle our fancy) and Eamonn took to it without any hesitation or "nipple confusion" at all! Chugging down an easy 4 ounces, initiating a self-induced milk coma, and he was off to dream land. It proved to be a success and next week we will commence with 2-3 bottles in order to prepare for my return to work in the next month and a half.













This month also brought many other firsts; Eamonn finally had his first bath. Being the water sign that he his, he seemed to enjoy it after he got over the initial shock of being naked and submerged in water once again. It was a little awkward since we hadn't purchased a bath tub, but with two sets of hands we managed to get him safely.......







lathered........














scrubbed........
and toweled off. He was quite the happy camper!

Getting out of the house has been a goal of mine throughout the last month, so whenever we've had an appointment or have had to meet up with friends or family, we've made it a point to make the most of our "day out" excursions. Even though my mother's departure left us with a refrigerator stocked with food and leftovers, Sean and I quickly exhausted our resources and soon found ourselves needing to hit up our local Trader Joes. It was a family event because now Eamonn could finally earn the title of a Trader Joes Kid!



Despite the cold temperature of the store he slept like an angel, graciously stopped for admiring onlookers, and posed for the camera befitted with his commemorative Trader Joe's Kids sticker. He continues to be a resilient, patient, gentle young man, all the while living up to his namesakes. It has been a rewarding month and we look forward to sharing many more memories!

Numeric Patterns

When we found out that Eamonn was slated to arrive in February, I immediately thought about some key dates: Both of my maternal grandparents' birthdays, my paternal grandmother's birthday, Nicole's birthday and, of course Valentine's day... I mean, I thought it would be cool to have a son who was born on one of these days, but something even "awesome-er" happened. He was born on his own day: February 5th, the best possible day in February to be born, given our family situation. So what am I really talking about, here?

I am talking about an amazing pattern... See, my birthday is two days after my little brother's birthday. He's on the 23rd, and I am on the 25th of June. My mother and father also have birthdays on the 23rd and 25th of their respective months. Eerie, eh? So, when I meet Nicole and find out that she was born on February 3rd (2/3), I notice that there is a bit of a trend here... and then to have Eamonn on 2/5??!?!?! Well, I think it is a pretty nifty little koinky-dink, and it is something that Papa Taugher is going to geek-out on for the rest of his life... now, to complete the circle, I am thinking that Eamonn's little brother or sister should be born on June 23rd. That way the 23rd, paired with my 25th will mirror Nicole and Eamonn's 2/3 & 2/5.

The only bummer about this truly awesome circumstance is that, in Europe, Eamonn and Nicole have their birthdays on "5/2" and "3/2," which shoots holes in the scheme... thank goodness we don't live there.

PS: Sorry Dad, your 12th grandchild is not a triple-prime: 2/5/09

Three Names and a Complicated Camera

As frantic as the floor of the NYSE on the zenith of trading days, the Manchester room (where Eamonn was born) seemed like a whirlwind of family coming in to to see the littlest Taugher. And to make matters worse, I had just bought the camera we were using to shoot everything two days prior as a birthday gift for Nicole (the amateur photographer). I can play drums and program synths and stuff... but cameras are not my forte. (Focus? What do you mean "focus"?) And then, to add insult to injury, we didn't have a memory card gonzo enough to hold these massive pictures. We just nabbed the card outta Nicole's point-and-shoot on our way to the hospital which was choc-full of photos from baby showers and Christmas, none of which had been uploaded to either of our computers. So when you combine this with the notion that everyone wanted a shot with the baby, and justifiably so, it made for a data management nightmare. Every time I turned around someone else seemed to be posing with him, and I was trying to keep a check list in my head of all the people that needed to get their photos taken, while trying to keep an eye on the limited amount of space I had available on this rinky-dinky card. To future fathers everywhere: be mindful of how much space you have on your memory cards, and for Pete's sake, MAKE A PHYSICAL CHECKLIST SO NO ONE GETS LEFT OUT!!!

So, after I ran out of space on the camera's memory card, and after the Castillo's made their way back to the greater LA area (what a day for them... coming all the way down, and then turning around to go home, all in one day!), Nicole and I, with the help of Bubbe, Papa Taugher, Uncle Ryan, Crystal, and Grandma Lisa, made our way to the post-partum room. I don't think either Nicole or I had slept in 36 hours, aside from a little cat-nap here and there. Cell phones were buzzing like mad, hospital staff was in and out of the room all night, and Nicole and I got to sleep for a tad before tackling the next major step in parenthood: The name.

The next morning, we woke up to our new family, and the daunting task of naming our boy. Over breakfast, we got out "the list" and reviewed the boy names we liked. We couldn't choose, and had to send the lady in charge of the birth certificates away, because we hadn't even begun to consider all the information she needed on those four purple pages. After a busy morning with hospital staff, we finally had the afternoon to figure things out. Eamonn (the Gaelic form of Edmund) was always at the top of our list because it meant "Prosperous Protector." We also thought it would be nice to give our son a name that came with no family history or ties so he could make his name his very own. None of the other names considered in the final hours of a nameless "Baby-T" seemed to gel with our nameless wonder's little persona.




The only other really famous Eamonn was an Irish revolutionary, "Eamon de Valera." And because he was a highly controversial character in Irish history, we certainly didn't name our son after him. Some say that de Valera's Christian name was something other than Eamon and that he changed it in order to appear more ethnically Irish when, in fact, he was born in New York to a Spanish father and an Irish mother. He was an Irish Nationalist, an Irish Patriot, and an Irish Freedom Fighter, but he was also said to be a shrewd politician and a fierce Catholic. He was thought to be responsible for some shady deals and some back-stabbing politicking that got some other Irish Loyalists killed. Basically, not the kind of guy I would really name my son after, which is why we used a more traditional spelling than he did. Our son has two "N"s, where Mister de Valera had only one. But I digress...



So we had a name, and much like mine, it is an awkward one to pronounce. I feel as if this will help the boy build some character... I know that being called things like "Say-un," "SEE-anne," and "SEEN" helped me to learn how to speak up for myself and correct the people who were unfamiliar with the Gaelic spelling of "Shawn." And believe me, there were many of these folks in LAUSD in the early 80's. (And for the record, the boy's name is pronounced "AY-mun." The letter "A" followed by "mun." Like "Daemon" without the "D").



And then came the easier part: A middle name. On our first date, Nicole and I established that our maternal grandfathers played humongous roles in our lives. Nicole saw her "Grampy," Yutaka, as a role-model. His compassionate, patient, kind-hearted soul was ever-devoted to his grand-daughter's well being. When I did get to meet him for a brief time before his passing, I can say that the connection Nicole and Grampy had was just as strong, deep, and loving as the relationship I had with my Pop Soule. It was a truly moving sight to see; being in proximity to that love was refreshing to the human spirit. Just as Nicole learned great and wonderful things from the example set by Yutaka, I learned a lot about what it was to be an honest, forth-right, patient, and truly gentle man from my Pop Soule (which is where the "Robert" comes from).



So with two middle names to choose from, what were we to do? Not knowing if we were ever going to have another boy, we opted to give Eamonn two of his great grandfathers' names. It may sound like a tall order to fill, but I have faith in my son. If one noble and mighty name is good, then two is better, right? So it was settled, the boy's name was destined to be "Eamonn Yutaka Robert Taugher." His first name belongs solely to himself, his middle names are to remind him of some of the great men than have come before him, and his family name is tie it all together.

Eamonn's Arrival

So it all began on an unusually warm February evening. I (Sean) had come home from class that night, took a shower, and snacked on some popcorn with Nicole and Lisa while they finished watching a movie. After the film, Lisa went to bed, Nicole took a shower, while I cracked open a Kona Pale Ale and continued to digitize my music collection so that Nicole and I could take a comprehensive "Labor Play List" to the hospital when "the time" came. (If any of you know how obsessive/compulsive I am when it comes to my "Library," you can understand the state of panic I was already in... I mean, I was only up to the M's and it had already been weeks of digitizing). So, it was a normal evening.


Just then, at around 11:30 pm, after her shower and after trimming her nails, Nicole gets up to go to the restroom. On her way over she feels something odd and thinks that she has just "wet" herself. (I guess there is a small amount of urinary incontinence that comes with pregnancy...). In actuality, she had broken her water and I instantly began to go into "whirlwind mode." We had already packed a bag for the hospital stay (that day), but all the toiletries needed to be compiled, the car needed to be packed, emails needed to be sent (of which I had drafted that day) there were some specific albums that needed to be copied, AND I needed to brush my teeth to get rid of that beer-smell. So there I was, running around, brushing my teeth with my left hand, (try doing that. it's hard.), and trying to do everything else with my right hand. All those years of drum lessons finally paid-off. (Thanks mom and dad!)


So, Nicole is watching all of this, getting her last bowl of cereal in before the hospital cuts her off from food completely and at 2 am, we finally get in the "Mambo-Tango." (This is name of our Passat Wagon, named for the raft Che Guevara rode down the Amazon, which was named for the dance Che allegedly created through his inability to dance either the mambo or the tango... and I can't dance at all, so it was the perfect moniker.)


We roll up to the hospital at about 2:15 am, and wander around for a bit. No one was really there to guide us in a direction (which also meant that the parking lot was empty, allowing us to score an awesome parking space). Up to the second floor we went, and checked into 231, "the Manchester room" (named for a Mr. and Mrs. Manchester. I chuckled a bit, telling myself "At least it isn't the Chelsea room, or the Liverpool room...") which was were we met our first nurse, Lisa. We spent a few hours filling out paper work, and it was at around 4 am that we hit our first set-back: Pregnancy-Induced Hypertension.


Nicole wanted to do this thing, old school. No drugs, no hormones, no nothing... Just a whole lot of pushing, a whole lot of breathing, a whole lot of "sensation management," and a doctor to catch the baby. This "Pregnancy-Induced Hypertension" shot holes in the plan. Sometime after 4 am, Nicole got the Oxytosin (to speed things along), because the only way to remedy the PIH was to hurry up and have the kid. With the water having broken, that put the clock in motion, and the PIH just kicked it up a notch. The doctor wanted the baby out, not in 24 hours, but in 18... oh, and we had to make sure Nicole didn't start having any seizures. Total Partyin'!



With Oxytosin, you not only get the increased speed, but it increases the intensity of labor contractions. There was no time to ease into labor; Nicole had to hit the ground running, and that's what she did... and she was handling everything like a champ, until the drugs hit her so hard that she couldn't run with everything... She was super-bummed, as she was dilated about 3 cm and she already wanted to opt for the epidural. In the end, both of us realized that not all drugs are bad, m'kay, and it was with the help of this epidural that Nicole actually got to enjoy more of the child-bearing process. She was relaxed, calm, and everything progressed nicely.



Shortly before the hospital turned my beloved into a chemistry-set, I got on the phone and woke some people up. Grandma Lisa was staying with us, so she already knew the goings-on, but I had to get the news to Grandpa Jerry and 'Lita Maria, as well as to Bubbe and Papa Taugher. Jerry put the word out, and the Castillos' showed up, en masse. Grandma Julie, Jerry and Maria were the first to arrive, at around 8:30 am. Later in the day, Aunt Tammy & Uncle Joseph, Jennifer, Melinda & Ernie with their two sons, Joshua and Ethan, AND Auntie Lisa with her younger two, Julia and Jacob, all made their way down from the Greater Los Angeles area. I was told that this happens, but I never really believed it until I saw it with my own eyes. It was awesome. Castillos = Responsive. (They would make really great volunteer firemen!)



The antithesis of responsive? My father. I called my folks up to give them the news: February 5th was going to be the day of their newest grandchild's birthday!! My mom was already making her way to school for some serious administrator's meeting, but promised to keep her phone on, and would slip out as soon as she could. (Really, she was on the verge of pooping flowers, she was so excited.) My father, on the other hand... well, he swore that the baby was not going to be born before he got out of class. (He still teaches part-time even though the old man retired 7 years ago. He says it helps him get out of having to do so many chores for my mother. I think it gives him a captive audience for all of his stories.) Now, I love my father to death, but sometimes his level-headedness and fierce ability to rationalize make him seem like an apathetic, cold, stern man. He is anything but... What he really is, is a man with the heart ten-times the size of Africa, with the grace and sensitivity of a rodeo bull. Humorously, he said something to the extent of "If this grandchild is going to have our last name, it will understand that there is order and system, and it will respect the fact that I have to teach, so it will wait for me." He said he would make it to the hospital by 4 pm, and that he would still beat his grandchild from getting there. I responded with something to the extent of "If this kid is anything like me, the baby is going to make you eat your words." We both chuckled, and hung up.



The rest of the labor was pretty chill. People came in for visits, Jamie (our new nurse as of 7 am) popped in for check-ups, and we hung around, listening to the 10-hour long labor play list I had made for Nicole.



At about 9 o'clock Nicole hit 4 cm, which means that we had hit the second-to-the-last mark. From here on out, it was going to be a centimeter-per-hour, and this would mean that the pushing was going to start around 3 pm. The Doctor then checked her again at 11 am and she had already made it to 8 cm! What a jump!! So at about 1:30 pm, it was rock-n-roll time. Nicole requested that the music be changed to just "Drew Andrews" and "Tristeza," and we were off and running! (Recalling my conversation with my father, I began to chuckle... this kid was really going to make my dad eat his words, AND I WAS LOVING IT!!)



At some point, as Nicole was dilating, I went out to the waiting room to give everyone an update. I said things were progressing, and since I didn't really have the means of portraying the situation verbally, I made a hand gesture as if two doors were opening... This got everyone fired up. Ernie shouted something to the extent of "too much information with the hand gestures... " And I am not too certain Jerry was comfortable with me talking about his daughter's condition in the way I was going about it (so if you are reading Jerry, I am really sorry).



Lisa had shown up right around 11, I believe, to hear the good news. She was with us in the room 100% and Nicole was very thankful to have her mother there for the emotional support. I was thankful to have her there for Nicole's sake, especially considering what she had to do in order to get out here from Honolulu two weeks prior to the slated due-date... Lisa's presence was definately a blessing. She was filming everything, just incase, and as fate would have it, had to change discs as the baby was coming out. We missed the actual birth, but got everything on film leading up to it, and we got a bunch of footage post-delivery. When I can get that digitized, I'll get it up ASAP. (And Jerry, I will not show any foot-age of any "doors opening" or anything else of the sort.)



Poor Nicole had to push and push and push... for what seemed like forever. Lisa and I were taking turns filming and holding Nicole's left leg, cheering her through her 30 seconds of pushing for each of her contractions. We started around 1:30 pm, and by 3:45 pm, we could see some hair poking out... Now, I don't know if I told her about my conversation with my father and she loves to prove him wrong as much as I do, or if she was just tired of pushing, but I looked at Nicole and she said, "we are going to have this baby in 15 minutes!!" To which I said "Heck Yes!!" Well, that didn't work out.



4 o'clock came and went. Doctor McNeely was in the room now, and he was holding on to the hair that was poking out... he said it helped to prevent the baby from sliding back in after every push, but I think it had more to do with the fact that he liked giving babies faux-hawks. He was a nice a guy, and looking back on it, I kinda wish he was our Doc for the whole 9 months leading up to the big day. He had a bag in place to catch all the blood which he called "the easiest lay-up ever."



At 4:15 pm thing were looking pretty good. I made a crack in the room about a 4:20 baby... which had a few people snickering and a few people left wondering. But that came and went as well... actually it was around this time that we got the baby's head out. The chord was loosely wrapped around his neck twice, so the Doc had to cut it. After that, Nicole pushed the shoulders out, and at 4:25, out came our baby. "It's a boy!!" I yelled as we caught a glimpse of his gonads. Both of us were in total amazement. A boy? Really? I think Lisa and Roy had a bet going, and I think that Lisa won... Hi-Five!



Even though Doctor McNeely had already cut the chord, I still got to cut it again. I told the baby that I was going to make some wise-ass remark about "cutting him off from his mother, and from here on out he was going to be expected to hold his own," and how Doctor McNeely had stolen my thunder... I then made the snip and he was placed on his mother's chest. Everyone was relieved. No c-section, no other crazy complications, and we got a bouncing baby boy. He was two weeks early and 6 pounds, 8 ounces.



Nicole recovered and ate, what she claims was, the worst turkey sandwich of her life (she was making it back to her ol' critical self again, which I was glad to see), I went out to the waiting room to give everyone the good news. I grabbed Lisa's video camera to document the event, and I turned it on as I walked down the hall. I think it was Julia that was the first to see me coming down, and she alerted everyone in the waiting room. Someone (I think it was Auntie Lisa) asked "Well, what are we?!?!?!" to which I responded "Well... I am a boy.... AND SO IS THE BABY!!"




We let the grandparents in, and then came great grandma so she could see her "GG", of which she now has four... In hindsight, I guess we could say that we subconsciously took Grandma Julie's advice. She said to me, at the baby shower for Little Ethan, "Why wait? All this joy could be yours! If you wait too long you'll be too old to enjoy it." It was those words that rang in my head on the day we took the pregnancy test, and I flashed back to those words again when I saw her walk into the delivery room.



Tia Cynthia showed up sometime prior to delivery but I am not certain as to when. I am just glad I was able to get a photo of her holding the "Young Man." My little brother, Uncle Ryan showed with his girlfriend, Crystal, as well. The first question out of Ryan's mouth was "Okay, so when do we sign him up for soccer? You thinking Centerback? Central Mid? What?" I assured my brother that his nephew would be taking the field by age five. I really can't wait to take him out for a kick-about, let alone start coaching his teams... that is if he takes to soccer.



Soccer or not, he is here... and I am thankful that he made it here, in the healthy condition he is in. Until then, "we be nappin"