dianaschnuth

In loving memory of Robert Schnuth

Yesterday evening, we held the memorial service for Aaron’s Dad.

The funeral home put together the classy slideshow above using photos and musical selections we provided, and it was playing when we arrived before the visitation. It was much better than any sort of posterboard display we could have made from the same photos, and it was really a highlight of the visitation for all of Bob’s loved ones.

So many people were touched by Bob; we hadn’t realized. Aaron’s family was there — aunts and uncles and cousins on both sides — but many of Bob’s co-workers and bowling buddies were there, too, and so were friends of both Aaron and Matt. I met Schnuth relatives I’d never seen before, or hadn’t seen since our wedding, and Aaron met friends of his Dad’s whom he’d only heard about in bowling stories.

Cousin Nate and Aunt Dee were both more than happy to wrangle Connor so I could mingle and talk with family and friends without trying to pacify my overtired four-month-old. I did spend some time feeding Connor on the couch in the nursery (only my third venture into “public” breastfeeding, and my second in a dedicated nursery area). Aunt Dee volunteered to take care of Connor during the service itself, which was such a blessing — it meant I could be there more fully for Aaron.

Reverend Barbara Jean Pope opened the memorial service with prayer and with a treatment of John 14:2 (“In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you”) in which she suggested that everyone’s place might be different. Maybe, she said, Bob’s place has a bowling alley and a comfy La-Z-Boy.

Afterward, she invited family and friends to share their memories of Bob.

Aaron’s brother started things off with a eulogy, which came off surprisingly well, considering his combination of nerves and grief.

Aaron stood and spoke about how his Dad was always there for him, and told the story of how his Dad ran money down to him one afternoon when his car broke down, even though Bob hadn’t been to bed yet after a night of work and a morning of bowling.

Uncle Pete spoke about how Bob was always very reserved, and mentioned that the black-and-white photo we had sitting on the table was the one that his sister Tina had shown him back in 1969 to prove how handsome her new boyfriend was.

I lamented the fact that I never really got to have a personal relationship with Bob, even though Aaron and I have been married for almost nine years, and dated for seven years before that. I mentioned how humble Bob was about his multiple perfect 300 games, and how he’d show up to holidays with a new jacket or ring and play it off. I told the story about when Bob came over to help us change a car battery, and we convinced him to play Wii Bowling with us. Where I finally choked and had to sit down was when I described how he lit up when he spent time with his grandson, and how I’m so saddened that they won’t get to know each other, but that each of us will tell Connor all about his Granddad.

Cousin Nate also mentioned how quiet Bob was at family gatherings, always sitting and listening and taking everything in. He told a story about when he was in his early teens, opening Christmas presents with his new pocket knife, and Bob tried to warn him that he was doing it wrong by saying, “Ouch… ouch… OUCH!” He also pointed out that at least Bob hung on long enough to meet his grandson.

Pastor Barbara Jean closed with a benediction and The Lord’s Prayer, then encouraged everyone to stay for a while and share memories and condolences with the family. Which everyone did. We made some new connections with Schnuth family members, traded addresses and emails, received a gift for Connor from Aaron’s godparents, and agreed to keep in touch with friends we haven’t seen in some time.

After everyone had left but Uncle Pete, Aunt Dee, and Cousin Joe, Aaron and his brother finalized the arrangements with the funeral home director, and we all went out to dinner at Loma Linda, a Mexican restaurant nearby. Poppa, Aaron’s grandfather, used to love Loma’s, and Pete realized he’d never actually been there. Plus, Aaron’s brother used to work there as both a dishwasher and a cook, so it was appropriate. We had a delicious dinner, all six of us plus Connor, and the management picked up the bill (sans beverages) because they’d heard about Bob’s passing, and wanted to offer their condolences. That was highly unexpected, but very classy.

It was a rough evening, and a late one, but we came out the other side with a greater sense of family and friendship, a new appreciation of those, and two new potted plants.

We’d been fretting (or at least thinking) about Connor’s first trip to Cleveland even before he was born. It would be his first car ride of more than maybe 20 minutes, and our first attempt to wrangle him away from home. Sure, by the time Thanksgiving finally rolled around, we’d managed to take him out to restaurants and Starbucks and the occasional store, but we hadn’t actually changed his diaper or fed him in public (either via bottle or boob). These would all be new things; just as well for us to try them out in the comfort of Uncle Pete’s home.

We knew we’d be either on the road or at Uncle Pete’s all afternoon and evening. We also knew that I wouldn’t be too keen on hiding in someone’s bedroom every two or three hours to feed Connor. So, we packed a few bags of both frozen and refrigerated breastmilk in the diaper bag (with a bottle, of course), along with eight diapers, two changes of clothes, his blanket, the Moby wrap, wet bags (to transport soiled clothes in case of a blowout or leakage), diaper disposal bags (just to be polite and not put nasty nappies right in their trash), and a partridge in a pear tree.

Normally, we’d arrive for a holiday around 2pm, food would be served around 3pm 4:00ish, we’d chat with the family, then people would start to trickle out and head back home around 6-ish. We’d usually stay until around 8pm, arriving home sometime around 11pm; we expected we’d leave earlier this time around, since Connor would probably be getting tired and cranky after such a big day.

So, out we headed on Thanksgiving morning, leaving the house around noonish. I sat in the backseat with him, as I always do, since Connor tends to have freakouts in the car sometimes. As it turned out, though, Connor was a sleepyhead the whole way.

Once we arrived, Connor was the center of attention. Everyone said hello to him as we walked in — almost like we were merely Connor’s entourage. (I kid! I kid! …Everyone did say hello to him first, though.) Aaron had to beeline for the bathroom, and by the time he came out, cousin Megan was already holding Connor.

Connor immediately got passed around to everyone who wanted to hold him — from Megan to Nate (who has two kids of his own) to Natalie (who had no clue how to hold Connor — kind of like how I felt before having him). I had to take Connor back from Natalie to calm him down (again, same reaction I used to get from babies), and we only got a few minutes of chilling and chatting time with everyone before Connor decided he was hungry.

Aaron’s youngest cousin, Joe, got his room volunteered for the task, since his older stepbrother was gaming in his room, and Pete and Dee’s room was full of boxes, as I recall. Aaron and I both went back for the diaper-changing part of the program, and were pleased to find that Joey has a quite passable futon in his room, in addition to his bed, dresser, and computer desk. The changing pad that Amy got us for Connor’s baby shower got some use for the first time, and it was perfect. Pad on the futon, baby on the pad, extra diaper on hand at all times because HOLY CRAP would it be embarrassing to have Connor pee on Joey’s futon.

With the first part of the mission accomplished, Aaron went back out to schmooze with the fam and left me to chillax on the futon with Connor (and my iPhone, as always). Feeding Connor has gotten a lot easier since he’s developed better head control; I never used to be able to feed him in a standard cradle hold, with his head in the crook of my elbow, because his head would fall into my armpit. Now, though, I’m able to position him without any extra pillows or whatnot — which was a good thing, because I didn’t want to have to procure one of Joe’s pillows for feeding Connor, then have to hide (or explain) any lingering spit-up. The feeding was pretty uneventful, though, and I emerged from Joe’s room 15 or 20 minutes later with a happily-fed and moderately sleepy baby.

We spent some time talking with everyone about Connor, eating veggies and Nate’s awesome spinach dip, but tt wasn’t long before the announcement made it to the living room: dinner was ready! Turns out that the turkey got done much faster than they’d been anticipating. Works for me! I strapped myself into the Moby wrap (which confused and confounded all who watched me), then got Connor all snug as a bug in a rug up against me in the Newborn Hug Hold and got ready to go make myself a plate of food.

Cue Aunt Dee: “…Are you really attached to him right now?”

Seems she was more than willing — eager, in fact — to hold Connor while the rest of us ate. I removed him from the wrap, handed him to Dee, untied myself, and got myself some food. Dee contented herself with holding Connor all through dinner: gazing at him, talking to him, all the while reminding me so much of my Mom. Aaron and I were both glad to have some time to talk and eat — not with each other, though, since everyone else had already taken seats at the two tables, and we were left with single seats at separate tables.

Dinner was traditional and delicious: turkey, of course, both “normal” and smoked; stuffing (in-the-bird, outside the bird, and gluten-free); sweet potatoes (or were they yams?); green bean casserole; rolls… I’m sure I’m forgetting something, just like Pete and Dee forgot to put out Nate’s cranberry relish.

We weren’t sure how long we planned to stay after dinner, but we knew we’d be staying long enough to talk for a while and enjoy the pies and cookies (once we had room). The conversation revolved around Connor, and children in general, with some new stories surfacing about Aaron and his brother Matt when they were little. Aaron’s dad was actually much more animated than I’m used to seeing him at these things, which was very cool. (He still didn’t want to hold Connor, though, and that’s just fine. Connor was still pretty little… but maybe at Christmas…)

Connor ate like a fiend (it was Thanksgiving, after all): four times from a bottle, and only once from the boob. I was enjoying a bit of a breastfeeding vacation, actually, passing Connor around to whomever wanted to hold and/or feed him (usually Dee), so I took advantage of the opportunity and partook of my first alcoholic beverage since New Year’s. That put the kibosh on breastfeeding for a while, even though it was just one Mike’s Hard Lemonade.

Surprisingly enough, we stayed until around 8:30pm or so — our usual time. We didn’t leave early after all, despite Aaron’s cousins (usually our main conversational partners) leaving earlier than normal. Aaron’s dad and brother left when we did; usually, they leave a bit earlier, when Nate and his kids take off for their longish trek home.

Once we got on the road, I realized I’d made a critical error: I’d ignored Aaron’s suggestion to nurse Connor before we left Uncle Pete’s. Connor did get a bit cranky off and on, and I fed him the last ounce or two of a bottle we still had on hand — but my bigger issue was my boobs. OMG, did they ache. They ached like they’d never ached before.

By the time we got home at 11:00pm, I hadn’t nursed Connor for something like eight hours. The first thing I did once we got in the door (after using the bathroom) was to sit down on the couch with Connor and feed him. He only ate for maybe five minutes (it must have been like drinking from the fire hose). After he was done, I pumped six ounces. That’s about a feeding and a half, and nearly twice the amount I usually pump.

So, lesson learned: be sure to nurse Connor regularly, and don’t rely on the bottle for convenience’s sake. I’ll remember that for Christmas Eve!

(PS – Sorry for the lack of pictures; writing on the iPad makes it more challenging to include them in the post. Perhaps I’ll go in later and add some when I have some actual computer time…)