I Might Be A Bad Mother...

1. My kitchen currently smells vaguely of mildew and I haven't cleaned under the microwave for long enough that I am now slightly afraid to lift it and clean under it. I am reasonably confident that the load of kitchen towels and dishrags and a dollop of Clorox will fix the smell. The microwave will have to wait until my MIL is coming to visit...

2. I have never vacuumed or otherwise cleaned my refrigerator coils. I honestly don't even quite know where they are or what they might look like.

3. I am still breastfeeding, in part, to loose those pesky 5 pounds. At times, this is a far stronger motivator for waking for the 3 am feeding than any benefit I might be giving Charlie.

4. I totally let the dogs sniff Charlie and there has been an occasional lick.

5. Today I let Charlie gnaw on the rocking chair's bottom rung (which has never been cleaned to my knowledge) because a) he had worked so damn hard to get to it and b) I really wanted to finish drinking my Spr*te.

6. My version of "Hush, Little Baby" can get decidedly ribald.

7. I wind up sometimes watching the clock and not the child because Charlie can occasionally thwart even the best observer in terms of his "sleepy window" and once it's past there's hell to pay.

8. I occasionally let Charlie gnaw on my empty plastic drink bottles even though they probably contain all manner of evil plasticness.

9. On the rare occasions that Charlie naps, I never actually do anything productive. I always take "me time"- in fact you can tell how well Charlie has been napping in direct relation to how often I post and comment on other blogs.

10. There have been days that I just can't stomach another 45 minutes of screaming baby and rocking chair and give up on the nap and play. I am well aware that this sets a bad precedent and that I will have a cranky baby in another 45 minutes but sometimes I just don't care.

11. I am going to drink caffeine during my next pregnancy. I miss iced tea with an unholy passion. I will keep it in moderation and continue to autoclave my luncheon meat but I will drink me an occasional tea, maybe even a coke!

12. I have, on a number of occasions, lied to Fertility Friend about when I took my temperature. This is, in part, because I have irrational fear that it will suddenly stop accepting my temperatures or send me a nasty note or something for not getting up at the same time every day. I'm usually within 30 minutes or so of when I said I took it but I still feel all scandalous about it. Ok, so, that doesn't actually have anything to do with my parenting. And, no, we're not "trying," I just want to know when I should expect a visit from the Bloody Barron.

Finally...

13. I let Charlie drink juice. Someday I may even let him drink undiluted juice! We walk on the edge!

Riddle Me This...

How is it that my fabric shower curtain that has been hanging in my bathoom, getting steamy on a regular basis for at least a year now, still has the fold marks from when it came out of it's package? Is there no justice in the world?

Breastfeeding Misconceptions

This post is just for me to get this out of my system.

I belong to a mommy message board. The number of women I see give up on breastfeeding from misconceptions appalls me. Breastmilk is the best nutrition for an infant, excluding a very few special cases. If you can, I believe you should breastfeed. At the same time, breastfeeding isn't for everyone and there are lots of things that go into being a good mommy- how you feed your baby is far from the sole, determining factor. There are lots of reasons not to breastfeed. You may have had breast surgery that makes it impossible, you may need to take medications that allow you to be a great mommy but not a great food source, you may need a little more "me time" than breastfeeding allows for to be a great mommy, you may be uber-fertile and desperately need to start birthcontrol pills that can decimate your supply. In short, breastfeeding is good but a happy, healthy mommy is great.

It seems like the main thing I see cited as the reason women quit breast feeding in the first couple of weeks is that they don't make enough milk. It is incredibly rare that that is actually the case, and if it is there are lots of things you can do allow you to continue breastfeeding. First, your breasts work on a supply and demand basis. In order to make make more milk your breasts have to be emptied lots and lots of times in the beginning. This often leads new mothers to think that they aren't making enough milk since their baby is "always" hungry. Newborns will want to nurse every 60-90 minutes- you may get a 3 hour stretch with some babies but you need them to nurse lots and lots in the beginning to help your body establish your milk supply. When the baby nurses you release hormones that tell your body to make more milk. In addition, newborns don't have very big mouths or tummies and neither of you is very efficient at this point so, it takes them a long while to eat a meal. It's not unusual for them to nurse for 45 minutes at a time. It takes about 90 minutes for the baby to finish digesting the breastmilk so, if they are awake, they'll probably notice and be hungry again. You will feel like you have a baby living on your boob for the first few weeks. Even if you don't, there are growth spurts at the 7-10 day mark, 3 weeks and 6 weeks so, at those times the baby will want to nurse even more. Nursing in bed in a sidelying position will help you get sleep. The important thing is that all this nursing in no way indicates that you aren't making enough milk.

Formula fed babies will go longer between feedings. This is because it's harder for babies to digest formula so it takes longer for their tummy to empty out. Formula fed babies may also sleep longer at a stretch because of this. My husband and I refer to this as "better sleep through constipation." However, the benefits of longer sleep need to be weighed against the many benefits of breastfeeding. In addition, you may have to deal with a constipated baby.

Many babies will take an ounce or so of formula or water after a nursing session on the sheer basis of it being offered- not because they are hungry. It's easier to get out of a bottle than the breast. Don't use this as a basis to assume you aren't making enough. If you are worried, keep track of how many wet and poopy diapers the baby is making. You can also go to the pediatrician or lactation consultant's office and weigh the baby before and after a feeding to see where you stand. If there are plenty of wet and poopy diapers and reasonable weight gain (breastfed babies sometimes take 2 weeks to regain their birthweight and that's ok) you are making enough milk. If you aren't making enough milk by these standards and need to supplement then do so with a supplemental nursing system rather than a bottle. They are a pain in the ass to use but allow the baby to get more to eat while still stimulating your breasts to make more milk. Bottle supplementation is often the fastest way to get breastfeeding to totally not work out in the early weeks. Once your supply is established, then monkey with bottles and such. Give it 4-6 weeks and be sure that you are still nursing at least 7-8 times a day. There are also all manner of supplements and herbs you can try.

The first week or so is really hard. Breastfeeding is a grind. You will feel like you will never have a life, eat with both hands, or sleep again. But, it does get better. If you want to quit, do so but please don't say "He was nursing every 2 hours so I just wasn't making enough" because that's actually the way it's supposed to be. Although, I have also entertained the notion that the actual issue is that it's much more socially acceptable to say that you had supply problems than that you just couldn't take having a baby stuck to your chest for another 18 of the next 24 hours which is awful- new mommies have it hard enough without having to make up lies to keep society happy.

Blessings...

I don't feel like I say enough about the wonderfulness that is Charlie here so...

Charlie is a phenomenally bad sleeper. At the same time, I have never had to worry significantly about SIDS, which is great because I'm a real worrier by nature and probably would have been scared to death if he had been a great sleeper.

When we work to be sure Charlie gets enough sleep he rewards us by being one of the most socially adept and cheerful infants I have ever encountered. Charlie giggles and grins and flirts his way through every day. We actually have a lot of trouble when we try to run errands because Charlie smiles at everyone and no one can resist a smiling baby and have to visit with him. I have become a bit like those people who have to tell the fans "no more autographs" so that the star doesn't have to look like a mean-o. Charlie is so very social that he has been trying to flirt with the dogs for a month and is perpetually puzzled as to why they don't smile back. Charlie attempted to flirt with the fish in the fishtank but has since given up on them.

Charlie totally knows how to game the system with The Grin. It will be 3 am and you will be exhausted and in the rocking chair for the 5 th time that night and you will see a little hand sneak out of the blanket and pull the paci out and little brown eyes will lock on yours and a little mouth will grin with 2 little teeth showing though and if you didn't know that to do so would equal hysterical crying (on your part and his) in about 30 minutes you would totally put him on the floor and play. Babysitters have to be specifically cautioned about The Grin and I rather fear for any young lady he sets his sights on in about 20 years. We have a firm "no eye contact" policy during middle of the night checks. I have a way easier time with it since I'm blind as a bat.

If Charlie hadn't been waylayed by those pesky motor milestones, he would totally have his first word and it would be "hi."

Charlie has a joi de vive rarely seen. It first emerged when he was oh so wee and he would latch to my boobs with gusto only to unlatch and latch again in a fabulous booby game. He will squeal with joy at a glimpse of you coming to get him from his crib. Raptures of delight are found by a nice tummy tickle or a good bounce on your lap. Nothing can beat the fun of kicking your feet while your parents attempt to change your diaper. While Charlie is the only infant I know who can actually throw a temper tantrum, the capacity for equally extraordinary joy is there too.

One of those days...

It has been one of those days. Charlie is soooo close to crawling and I spend much of the day listening to his grasping, grunting, and ughing as he stretches and wiggles and squirms and rolls to get what he wants. I have to make a concious effort to not give in to the desire to "rescue" him or, in my less charitible moments, just give him the damn bunny.

Charlie has also learned to start blowing bubbles and spitting. It's an important motor skill as well. It's a precursor to speech and drinking from a cup and any number of other things. But, it's soooo gross. Now whenever he spits up it becomes something to "practice" with. It's almost enough for me to cut him off from eating anything that isn't white.

Things Are Never As Bad or As Good As They Seem

I have been listening to Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination in the kitchen as of late and that is one of her rules for living. I have also been watching the series on The Supreme Court on PBS. I had felt my brain slowly turning to mush and decided that I would watch something-educational-damn-it. Lucky me, the series was just starting and I love constitutional law. If my life had gone completely differently I would have become a lawyer specializing on constitutional law. It is such a fabulous blend of abstraction and practicality, psychology, semantics, and history.

As I have watched, I am slowly gaining a perspective I have badly needed. In American history, the end often seems nigh, much more so than even now and we have always managed to muddle through. I have been gnashing my teeth over the current construct of the court and waited with baited breath to see which rights might be revoked; which hard won privileges might be lost. I have made assumptions about current Justices and where the country might be headed. As I watch, I have been awed by where assumption would have led me astray. The story of John Marshal Harlan has been quite inspiring. He was the son of prominent slave holders who came to become an ardent defender of civil rights. I imagine that Oliver Wendell Holmes would drive me to distraction, should he be on the current court, but in the court at the time of The New Deal he seems perfectly acceptable. FDR apparently got quite frustrated with the conservative court at the time and basically blackmailed them into allowing him to govern. This is somewhat concerning seeing as Bush had the same sort of support soon after the 9/11 attacks. Fortunately, he didn't use this to manipulate the court, even if other areas were unduly influenced. In short, it has shown example after example of how society continues to make forward progress in a slow, inexorable fashion, measured in decades and centuries rather than the months and years I would wish. There are setbacks, but also corrections. I apparently just need the patience to weather the storms of democracy and the gumption to spur action when I can.

Serenity Now!

I have developed a deep and abiding love for iSerenity. It's this lovely website that provides various white noise environments that you can stream on your computer. I'm torn between rain and bubbling brook as my favorite. They also have rather interesting choices like library lullaby or purring performance.

Ode to Consumerism

So, we're really of the philosophy that less is more when it comes to toys, particularly at this stage in Charlie's life. On our 2 day out and 2 day back trek to my grandparent's house his very favorite, have to make it another 15 miles before we can stop, always smile toy was my empty Sprite bottle. However, I have noticed that Charlie's equipment needs are rather awe inspiring. He has begun to sit up which lead to a death defying fling from his carrier (thank God the only injury was a not too terribly bad black eye) Tuesday morning. After I finished my hysterical screaming fit and he was checked by the doctor, it was clear that we needed some big boy things so a shopping we went...

We got a dandy shopping cart cover, a high chair, and a Musical Motion Activity Center.

Also, note to my MIL, I agree that it is important not to overly sterilize a child's environment. Some germs are good. Please note that we live in a house with hardwood floors and 2 indoor dogs and I have approximately 30 minutes a week to devote to any sort of floor care or dusting (the child better start napping well enough to let me sweep when he starts crawling or I will be forced to put booties on the dogs). The dishes get done, we don't live in filth, our underwear is clean but pristine this house most definitely is not. However, when Charlie has thrush and I have pink eye (a picture of health, our family) I get rather anal. There are some germs that just don't need to be coddled.

When Good Parents Go Bad

First, how much snot can one cute little nose make?

Second, it has become surprisingly clear that we live way more on the edge as parents than I had ever expected. About 3 weeks ago we decided to start trying to let Charlie sleep on his stomach. We were well aware of the SIDS risks but we also hadn't slept in 5 months. It seemed that finding some way to allow Charlie to get a healthy amount of sleep was increasingly important and we had tried EVERYTHING (save cry it out for a variety of reasons I don't want to go into). It also seemed that the likelyhood of Charlie suddenly managing a the depth of sleep required to cause a SIDS death was astoundingly faint. He has excellent head control and had already demonstrated a firm aversion to anything blocking his airway when he was cruelly attacked by a wayward blanket as a very wee infant when I brushed his cradle. Finally, if he didn't still need to be swaddled to sleep he could actually roll onto his tummy himself. Since we started this tummy sleep, his sleep has somewhat improved. He can now make it past the REM stage most of the time. He still often needs a bit of help to make it between 45 minute complete baby sleep cycles and vast amounts of butt patting are required to get him through the night but the rocker isn't needed very much. My husband and I are quite the rule followers. He thinks I'm living on the edge by driving 9 miles over the speed limit. We own all manner of anti-SIDS products- the breathable bumpers, the swaddle sacks, it's even why I am still supporting the use of a pacifier. I can't believe we finally went over to the tummy sleep side...

Smarts

Charlie was highly active as a fetus. I could count on him to do all manner of acrobatics and calisthenics between 4 and 6 am (which is still the time he has the most trouble sleeping). I never really needed to do a kick count. I felt blessed as I tend to be anxious and there is nothing as comforting to a pregnant woman as feeling her baby move about, not because all this activity would supposedly equal brilliance.

Charlie is now a highly active infant. He wants to bounce and mouth and flirt and interact. Sleep is elusive to him. Shutting out the highly exciting world is oh so hard. Through all of this activity, I have been told time and again how all of this means he is smart or gifted. He is building neurons, highly engaged, and gathering vast amounts of information. Somehow this smart thing is to be a panacea. I have to say that at this point, my husband and I would be delighted to have a slightly dim child if said child would only sleep.

My mother once told me that IQ means very little. What actually matters is what you do with the intelligence you have. This has been borne out to me so very many times it makes all the reassurances that Charlie is brilliant cold comfort at best. I want to raise a happy child, a fulfilled child, a child who can find a place to be himself. His innate intelligence doesn't have much bearing on any of that. I taught any number of children who wouldn't be classified as smart by even the most generous definition. I remember having a conversation with the school psychologist about one girl I worked with. She was such a sweet soul but would probably be just barely functional in reading and maybe functional in math. We speculated that she, like her mother, would be a wonderful mother. She would perhaps do some in-home day care and her husband would need to help her with the bills and such. She was shy but had a core group of friends. She was liked by her teachers and peers. She participated in rodeos and helped keep her siblings in line. In short, she was happy. She had a place that she belonged. She was as fulfilled as a 4th grader could be and would probably continue on that trajectory. Why does there have to be the implication in the world that just because she wasn't classified as smart or gifted, she isn't as valuable or happy or cherished? While some of the children I knew and know who are reportedly brilliant (and there are so very many that I rather wonder if it has any meaning anymore) are just as happy and fulfilled there are any number that are floundering under the weight of expectation.

This article casts an interesting light on all of the smart business. The basic gist is that it's better to praise children for working hard than being smart. There are apparently a number of parents that disagree with this and perhaps I will, in time, as well. But, I doubt it. When I taught I learned to praise effort as much as outcome. Trying again and again was key. As a person, I appreciate praise for what I actually control much more than what I was born with. After all, I have never been praised for being 5 foot 3 and I don't particularly think anyone else has either. It makes about as much sense to praise a child for being smart. This adds this subtle assumption that you either have it or you don't. It makes self-improvement and the acquisition of new skills moot.

I rather think that the next time someone reassures me of my child's brilliance I will have to respond with some witty comeback. Unfortunately, I don't seem to be smart enough to think of one...

The Mouths of Babes

Charlie, the inquisitive child that he is, would like to know the following:

1. Why we only have 1 mouth. This makes it impossible to both chew on a pacifier and stick all those fascinating objects in your mouth- using your hands to explore simply isn't adequate.

2. Why Mommy keeps handing him a teether instead of letting him gnaw to his heart's content on the remote.

3. How to actually swallow the banana instead of gooshing it out.

4. Why he must wear socks in winter when they interfere with his continuing quest to stuff his entire foot into his mouth.

Solids!

Charlie had some rice cereal to celebrate Valentine's Day and loved it! He fussed every time we had to take the spoon away to get more. He was adorable and will, perhaps, manage to sleep a bit.

A Walk On the Wild Side...

I have an unholy hankering to own this tank top...

I suspect it has the same psychological root as my desire to own this nail polish.

Let the reclaimation of my sense of self beyond devoted mother begin!

Don't Take the Baby's Side

So, I joined the La Leache League a few months ago. I like nursing, I needed to get out of the house, and it seemed like a good way to meet other people who would also eat blue potatoes. I generally like it pretty well. However, I have noticed that I always feel a little irked at some point in the meeting and I have finally figured out why.

The leaders always take the baby's side.

When one mother was discussing how she really didn't enjoy nursing at 2am, the leader's response was to enjoy that together time now and how you shouldn't worry about the clock and how you should give yourself permission to sleep at 2pm instead. All of these are wonderful sentiments but when it comes down to it, it really sucks to be awake at 2 am (and 1 am and 4 am) nursing. This response is fairly typical and somewhat problematic. Anne at Bun in the Oven, often references the LLL's purported painless nursing with a good latch. While that might be true after a few weeks, the first week or so will hurt.

Part of motherhood is knowing that sometimes it sucks and doing it anyway. At the same time, it's vital to feel like it's ok to think it sucks, that baby poop smells too, that there won't always be sunshine and daisies and that it isn't just that you need to adjust your attitude. The road to valium addiction is paved with a perpetually positive disposition. Sometimes you just have to take the mommy's side. It doesn't mean she'll abandon her baby or stop picking the baby up when he cries but she will know it's ok if she doesn't smile when the baby cries at 3am.

This I Know...

Charlie should take 2 naps of about 2 hours in length and 1 of 45 minutes in length. Over the last month I have rocked him through at least 50% of these. All of this trouble with getting him to sleep really has me doubting myself as a mother so, as an exercise, indulge me as I practicing saying this I know...

Charlie smiles a lot when he dreams.

When Charlie frowns in his dreams, a whisper from Mommy helps it go away.

I can now tell where Charlie is in his sleep cycle by how he is breathing.

The glider is key, closely followed by the butt pat.

Cloudy days are your friend.

Our driveway is the favorite spot for all trucks to turn around in and, for a private, gravel, dead end road, we get way more traffic than you would expect.

Beagles are great dogs for families with children but perhaps not the best choice for families with bad nappers.

Charlie likes The Beatles.

There is a vein that runs right down the middle of Charlie's skull.

Charlie likes to sleep on his stomach.

Charlie sleeps better in his crib than in a family bed although he might like a family hammock as rocking is his crack.

Sometimes God indulges desperate mothers and the baby will sleep through the dogs barking and the phone ringing. Of course, sometimes God doesn't...

The amount of time Charlie will sleep peacefully in my arms is directly proportional to how desperately I have to pee.

Let there be hope...

Adventures in sleep continue. There had been a glimmer of sunshine earlier this week and then he started teething... sigh. My husband keeps pointing out that someday Charlie will be a teenager and will be sleeping far more than we might like.

I have taken to watching those shows on Discovery Health about families with multiples. I keep thinking that if those couples with the 4 kids all at once now posses a clean house, presentable hair, and have regained the ability to compose complete and coherent sentences then, someday, surely I will too.

Bad Timing

I currently:

a- am recovering from mastitis (relatively mild but still a pain both figuratively and literally)

b- have a cold

c- may be experiencing the first tentative step toward a "return to my fertility"

Both a and c mess with my supply and b means I'm tired and cranky and just want to sleep for 4 hours at a stretch.

Guess when Charlie decided to start a new growth spurt...

I caught the mastitis really early so maybe I just have a skewed perspective but why do people keep asking me if I "nursed through it?" It seems like it would be really counter-productive to stop nursing- sort of like getting a cold and refusing to blow your nose.

Giggle

Charlie giggled!

Teaching My Baby to Dream

As you might be able to tell from my last post, we have been in the midst of a sleep extravaganza since about the first of the year. We had been giving Charlie until he was about 3 months old to really start to try to make a schedule (this may have been a mistake). He had been showing glimmers of sleeping if not well, then at least for several hours in a row at night and there had been a growing predictability to his days. Then there came teething and grandparent visits and unknown happenings in his little brain and the sleep became awful. I actually sobbed...twice...in one night. I had been quite pleased with the fact that I had escaped PPD until that night. Apparently my mood can withstand any amount of hormonal onslaught but visions of hourly wakings (followed by 45 minute stints in the rocker) for the foreseeable future is enough to totally send me 'round the bend.

We purchased both the No Cry Sleep Solution and The Baby Whisperer. Using a hybrid of the two we formulated a plan and began Operation Sandman. We realized that a large part of Charlie's problem was that he was completely sleep deprived. So, my mission during the day was to manage to get the child who generally took 3ish 35 minute naps a day to take 3 1.5-2 hour naps a day. This meant that I spent a lot of the first week staring at the walls in the nursery rocking and rocking. Eventually we moved to the futon mattress (my husband has been sleeping in the nursery). I could actually feel my brain atrophying. Charlie has now, finally, moved back into the crib although I spend about 30 minutes of every nap standing watch, patting and picking up as needed. The rest of the time I stay in the nursery, watching for unexpected events as I flip through the internet or read. It beats staring at the walls but the intensity is draining. It seems that Charlie needs to be taught how to progress through REM sleep and light sleep so that he can make it back into the deep sleep.

In short, my baby doesn't know how to dream.

Since my husband is taking the night shift, starting around 7:45, when Charlie is done nursing and keeps him until about 6am, I have him until then. It leaves me yearning to be not the mommy. By the third nap, which is often the most challenging, (mostly because he should probably really be having 2 2-3 hour naps and 1 quick one but 2-3 hours is a little beyond us at the moment) I am sometimes ready to weep. I spend a lot of time reminding myself that this too will pass. I try to remember when it felt like he would never stop eating. I know that if I can just stick this out that I will have so much time of my own- probably 4 hours a day and then 2-3 after he goes to bed but right now I am in the midst of it. 2 weeks ago he would not have stayed asleep for 2 hours no matter what you did. Now, it takes a lot of work but it happens. 2 weeks ago he was up at least once an hour at night and now he can go at least 2 and often more. 2 weeks ago Charlie would only fall asleep in the car after crying and crying- tonight he did it with no fuss and in less than 5 minutes. So, there is progress but we are growing impatient.

It is becoming increasingly vital to my sanity that I do things to preserve me. My shower is a shining star in my day. I always put on something that smells nice. I have a growing fascination with nail polish and am wearing lipstick every day. Today I got in the car without my baby or my husband to go shopping for face cleanser and I cried from the sheer wonder of doing something for myself, by myself. This child has to learn to dream and soon because his mother already knows how. I need those 4 hours a day.

From Charlie...

Charlie asked me to pass along the following information.

Greetings to all other infants in blogland!

I have been conducting extensive research over the last few weeks on methods to convince your mommy you don't need a nap as we all know that all the very best stuff happens while we are sleeping- I have heard rumors of a thing called "laundry," it is sure to be fascinating.

The following strategies have failed thus far...

1. Bellowing like a wounded moose

2. Bellowing like a wounded moose in heat

3. Bellowing like a wounded moose in heat while frantically flailing your arms and arching your back.

4. Burrowing your face into mommy's shoulder while frantically clawing at her chest, bellowing like a wounded moose in heat, arching your back, and kicking your legs.

Mommies are also very uncooperative! I have often tried doing all of the previous with my eyes shut as a sort of compromise. This is met with a snort of derision- where is the love? I have tried raising my eyebrows as high as possible to fend off the shutting of the eyes but this is of limited success.

Please notify me soonest when you find a functional strategy for convincing mommy you don't need a nap or if you find out what this fabulous laundry thing is.

Regards,

Charlie

Teething

Charlie would like to say that teeth are obviously the work of the devil and he would like to stick with the milk meal plan indefinately.

Y'all...

I read the mommy blogs. I worked child care. I watched Desperate Housewives. I knew about the never peeing alone, going a couple of days without showers, that I would have extensive conversations about my child's poop. However, y'all totally left out some stuff. In the future please be sure to point out the following to the unsuspecting:

1- Finding time to poop will be a challenge. The liberty to poop at will will become a major selling point for going back to work. (unless you are a teacher and you long ago abandoned all hope of ever meeting your personal needs in a timely manner)

2- Eating lunch will be an accomplishment. Eating a lunch which requires utensils will bring a sense of accomplishment equal only to finally getting to poop.

3- The pregnancy books were not actually kidding about belly button pain.

4- You will realize that you really should have put on socks at 9 am. You will finally manage to put on the socks (after earnest effort) at 3 pm.

5- It will take you 3 months to figure out that Carter's size names go completely contrary to your assumptions and that the 3 month size is for babies up to 3 months as opposed to the Gerber stuff which is meant for babies 3-6 months old. Gnashing of teeth will occur.

6- Ugly baby clothes exist. You will receive ugly baby clothing from people who insist on pictures of the baby in it and who have never been introduced to gift receipts. Said clothing will freakishly be both cheap looking and astoundingly indestructible at the same time while fitting for eons.

The Mommy Moment

I have a friend who is encroaching on the marriage issue which, of course, calls for me to give her wedding advice. I have offered up a few tidbits. First, the wedding is not really for you. It's for your family. Your opinion will only marginally matter. With that in mind... pick one thing about the wedding you really care about to get your way on. For me it was the dress. Finally, everyone has one moment that truly makes you feel you're married. For me it was the lifting of the veil by my husband followed by the kiss. For others it might be the first dance or the exchange of the rings. Whatever it is, identify it and be sure it makes it into the day.

That same defining moment exists for me as a Mother as well. When Charlie is first waking up from his nap (which he will only consent to have while being held- an improvement from last week when there could be no sleeping ever again for fear he would miss something good) or when the has seen his fill or when he has finished a wiggling extravaganza he will retreat into me. His little body nestles against my arm and chest and his soft cheek rests against my shoulder. He blinks and looks around slowly sometimes simply staring at my shirt. It is a moment where he needs me to offer security and quiet. More importantly, it is a time that he has decided he needs me. It isn't blind instinct, hunger, or reflex that gives him that quiet moment. I am not deciding what he needs because he is unable. In those moments of stillness he is asking and I am giving. There are no thoughts of doubt, no wishes to be doing something else, no wondering if I might get a nap. There is me and my little boy and the knowledge that this shoulder will be his for as long as he may need it. It is in that moment that I am Mommy.

Nursing

I am nursing Charlie. In a perfect world I might go to 1 year but I would at least like to make it to the 6 month mark. I decided to nurse because I had no reason not to. The evidence is fairly clear that if you can, breastfeeding is the way to go. At the same time, I can't say that I particularly like it. I read accounts by other women that make it sound like this transcendental experience making you at one with the moon and your baby and mothers everywhere. I can't say that I ever feel like that. At best, I feel fairly indifferent about it and at other times I have fervently wished that something would happen to make it necessary to switch to formula. I imagine that some of my feelings about the issue are shaped by the fact that Charlie was a frequent and slow nurser up until the last couple of weeks. Nursing sessions generally lasted 45 minutes and happened every 1.5-2 hours with a 3 hour stretch in the dead of night if I was lucky. I got plugged ducts and thank my lucky stars that I didn't get mastitis. In the most notable instance I spent 2 days clearing 7 plugs. Even then, I thank my lucky stars. I've actually had it fairly easy with nursing. While Charlie and I took a couple of days to really get the hang of things I haven't had supply issues, latch problems, infections, etc. I must confess that I visit my nursing message board and see these women become very distraught over nursing problems, going to great lengths to continue nursing or mourning the end of their nursing days and feel befuddled. I am told to cherish the cuddle time and closeness with my child. I am advised to relish the smell of my child and the satisfaction of knowing I can feed him from my body. I do love to cuddle Charlie but I get to do that to excess when trying to get him to sleep and could cuddle him just as well while feeding him a bottle. More often then not, my child smells of spit up and dubious diaper. We certainly don't neglect keeping him clean but more than 1 bath a day seems a bit excessive... And, knowing I can provide all he needs sometimes makes me feel more like livestock than Earth Mother. At times, it seems my only identity is as a provider of food. In my darkest moments, there is resentment that yet more sleep is lost, that I will never get that 45 minutes back, resentment that my body is no longer my own. The enforced down time of nursing can be a blessing but also a source of a great deal of stress to say nothing of wondering just how much daytime television one person really needs to watch.

Over the last week or 2 Charlie has finally begun to go 3 hours during the day and at least 1 4 hours stretch at night. He has begun to become more focused while nursing so we sometimes finish in as little as 15 minutes. This is certainly helping me feel that I might actually make it to the 6 month mark but I still don't seem to feel as warmly about nursing as some do. Is this just a function of time? Maybe I would feel quite differently if I hadn't had a choice and hadn't been able to nurse.

Nursing has made me feel somewhat bad for my husband and men in general. I have been able to participate in life in a way that women always have. I bore a child and now feed him in the same way that women 3000 years ago would have. My husband, obviously, had a hand in the conception of Charlie but doesn't get to experience the same connection to the past that I do. While he does provide for the family in the pseudo-traditional sense of being the main income earner, he doesn't provide in the most traditional sense. At no point will he likely ever create shelter or hunt food for his family. He lacks the generational connection that I have now experienced. While this doesn't particularly help me feel all that more positive about nursing in the here and now, it does, at least provide an abstract solace to mull during the 4 am nursing session.

Call Me SB (social butterfly)

Charlie has discovered the world. There are fans and lights and people. Charlie would prefer to never close his eyes again for fear of missing something. He's adorable! He has started making eye contact and he smiles and he seems to know who I am. He's also starting to go 3 hours between feedings (at least until we hit a growth spurt yesterday). This, of course, leaves me with the dilema of what one does with an alert 10 week old for 2 hours after you've already covered the diaper change and feeding.

Ironing

Why do all of Charlie's onsies have ironing instructions? Am I the only one who has debated how many times he can spit upon an outfit before I really have to change it?

On Aspirations

We have started to come out of the fog of newborn care. Charlie is starting to sleep for 4 hours at a stretch, key word being "starting." He's also starting to go for 2.5-3 hours between nursing sessions so we can actually do things without sprinting home all the time although our outings are far from leisurely. Charlie is also starting to agree to take naps during the afternoon without me holding him the whole time and of longer than 5 minutes duration. There was a period of time in the very recent past that I could feel myself melting away. I had become "The Boob." I had no time to call my own. No opportunity to so anything unrelated to the physical sustenance of myself or child and sustaining myself was a far second, mainly attended to in order to preserve the milk supply for the baby. With time opening in my day to think beyond the vital, I've begun to give thought to my aspirations for Charlie.

When we discussed names we decided that it had to pass the Supreme Court/plumber test. In other words, the name had to work for either vocation. There is a school superintendent named "Tiffany" around here and I always feel bad for her. At any rate, before Charlie was born I thought that I didn't care what he did as long as he was happy. As time goes on, I am beginning to think that happiness isn't enough. In addition to being happy, I would like to instill the desire to make the world a better place. I don't really care how. He might simply have a cheerful disposition that makes those around him happier. He might always say please and thank you. He might cure cancer. Of course, now the question has arisen... have I made the world a better place in my turn.

Baby Radar

How is it that Charlie can be sleeping peacefully until the exact moment that I try to do a task?

At night, we'll have finished nursing, he will be completely out, I put him in his cradle, observe for a minute or two, coax his father to coherence and enlist him to rock the cradle and then finally get to go pee. Within 15 seconds, he's crying.

In the afternoon, I will put him in his swing and he will gaciously allow me to pee (what a gentleman!) after a minute or two he falls asleep. He will sleep through the dogs barking at a squirrel and a marching band on tv but as soon as I lay down on the couch to catch a nap, wailing comences.

Crock Pot Pork Roast

So, I have discovered that the only hope in hell I have of cooking dinner these days is to do all the prep at night while my husband can keep an eye on Charlie and then cook via crock pot. He was particuarly enamored with the dish last night so I thought I would record it here both to share with any interested parties and so that I could remember what I did. Sadly, it was one of those recipes that I did no measuring for but I'll do my best...

I'm not totally sure what size the pork roast was but I'm guessing a pound so, we'll go with that.

Peel, core and roughly chop 3 granny smith apples (1 per serving of roast).

Sear/ brown (I'm not sure which would be the correct term) the roast in a hot cast iron skillet.

Put pork and apples into crock pot with 1/4 cup brown sugar, dash ground clove, 2 shakes of allspice, 1 tablespoonish of ground ginger (1-2 inches chopped fresh is better but we didn't have any) and 2 tablespoonsish of apple cider vinegar.

Cook on low for about 9 hours (longer for a bigger roast). Mash the apples up about halfway through the cooking or when you get a chance- spoon a good hunk of them on top of the roast.

In other news, life with Charlie marches on. I have now managed to get out almost all of the baby announcements. I made my own and they weren't actually designed to be mass produced after the arrival of the baby and we sent out more than 120. Happily, the Christmas card I designed was designed with baby in mind so, we have some hope of getting those out before New Year's. I suspect that the annual Christmas cookie baking spree might not happen this year though. I haven't had the heart to break it to my friends yet.

Hooray!

Charlie had another weight check yesterday and was up by more than a pound from last week. His father is taking to calling him "Daddy's Little Porker."

Charlie promptly starting eating every 2 hours with gusto, around the clock, when he would have been at 39 weeks gestation which supports the doctor's suspicion that his slow gain was a function of him being so young.

Charlie very much seems to be a child that develops various skills abruptly and a bit ahead of the curve if his birth and eating are anything to go by. He is now furiously working on making his head stay up and had his first tummy time yesterday. He seems to be closing in on a smile although I'm more looking forward to eye contact.

Correction

In my sleep addled state I mistakenly wrote that the dopctor was terribly concerned about Charlie's weight. I meant to say that she WASN'T too terribly concerned.

Sorry!

It gets better, right?

So, we went to the doctor again on Thursday for another weight check and Charlie was down another 3 ounces. The doctor is terribly concerned. He looks very healthy. His reflexes are good. His jaundice is quickly disapearing. He poops and pees and poops some more. She thinks that it may jsut have to do with him deciding to come so early. While he was a full term baby he is a very young full term baby.

Starting yesterday he decided to start eating every 2 hours. Dear God! I may never eat or sleep again. I am completely thrilled that this probably means he's getting with the program and will hopefully have gained some nice weight by his next weight check next week but I am really going through the ringer. The 2 hour thing continued all night and has gone into today. In addition, not only does he want to eat every 2 hours but one feeding session takes about 45 minutes. This means I get 1 hour of sleep at a time. I am so hopeful that this means he is growing and I'm commited to breastfeeding but I have to say that I could really get behind a resurgence in wet nurses. In addition to all this eating, he's also starting to have longer alert periods that I'm trying to really be responsive to in order to help him start to get the night/day concept. At this point I'm perpetually hungry but begining to feel alightly queasy at the thought of yet another granola bar (the one handed meal of choice around here), my girl parts all hurt from over use or contracting or whatever else, my neck aches from trying to sleep sitting up and nursing, and my head hurts from lack of sleep. It's a good thing he's so cute, although even that fades in allure by about 1 am.

Four Hours

Life with Charlie is going reasonably well. My sister-in-law left today and we survived the day alone while my husband was at work.

Two nights ago we had a night that made you question if you could actually do this but then last night I got a blessed 4 hours between feedings. I hadn't realized what a difference that hour could make. I slept long enough to have dreams. I didn't cry when it was time to wake up for another feeding. The benefits of breast feeding are many but it certainly isn't for wimps. Charlie tends to eat for about 45 minutes and was eating about every 3 hours so a full REM cycle was a mythical beast.

My weight is coming down. I had had this concept that since I had staying within the 25 pound range that the weight would all be gone by the time I left the hospital but I was sorely disappointed. I'm within about 7 pounds of my pre-pregnancy weight. I'm still in maternity and yoga pants though. (sidebar: why do my maternity pants fit so much better now? wouldn't they make them to fit the pregnant belly?) My mid-section is still too tender to handle much in the way of waistbands. I have high hopes that I will be back in my pre-pregnancy clothing by my 6 week check-up but I'll just have to see what happens. My mind is having trouble wrapping itself around the concept that I still need to be eating a lot to support my breastfeeding at the same time as I'm losing weight.

The doctor is concerned about respiratory illness and has asked that we keep Charlie home for the 1st month. This is making me a little stir crazy since that means I can leave the house for no more than 1.5 hours if I can manage to leave within a few minutes of the completion of a nursing session.. I hadn't really realized how tethered to the house I would be until my husband and his sister went out to get some dinner and do some errands and I realized that I had to stay home. I haven't had much difficulty with PPD but that was a low point. Especially since Charlie was born so much earlier than I had expected, there are lots of little errands that didn't get done. I have had plenty of help and people are more than willing to run errands for me but there are some things I really want to do myself. The dependence on others for the errands and the amount of help I needed around the house while in the early stages of recovering from the c-section has been a bit of a trial for me. But, my recovery is going well and I'm able to most things around the house at this point. I am eagerly counting down to Charlie's 1 month birthday.

Charlie!

My water broke at 8:30 (ish) pm on Thursday, September 7. I was in the middle of my mammoth cleaning spree and had just finished digging around under the sink for some cleaning supplies when there was a "gush." We called the doctor and were on our way to the hospital by 9:30. Charles Allen M... (Charlie) was born via a c-section (originally scheduled for the 20th) at 11:46. He weighed 7 pounds, 2 ounces and was 19.5 inches long. I had just started my 37th week that day so he was full term and was (and is) quite healthy. My incision is healing nicely and I am becoming good friends with Tylenol with codeine. We came home on Sunday evening and we are beginning to settle in. We are both getting better at breastfeeding and my milk seems to be coming in. There have been mood swings but no signs of hard core PPD as of yet.

My mother and mother-in-law both arrived Friday morning to meet the baby and get the house prepared for our arrival home. My mother (with a small amount of help from my mother-in-law) managed to finish up the 2 weeks worth of cleaning I had anticipated in about 2 days- go Mom! Luckily the changing table (the last major baby item) arrived on that Tuesday (along with the water) and my Mom washed all the baby items while we were in the hospital so we have all of the key baby bases covered. We have plenty waiting for us to "finish up" when things settle down but we can manage for now. They have both left and my sister-in-law will be here for the next week or so to help out.

I will try to post more within the next several days.

Let there be water...

We have been inspected and the well guys are coming to fill in the moat with the pipes later today. I am currently running the empty washer with enough bleach to fell an ox and then will move on to tackle the rest of the many, many items that will need to be washed before they are safe for a baby to chew on. On the plus side, we had apparently been living with a pale imitation of water pressure and the washing machine seems to be making much better time than it used to. Unfortunately, the toilets are now deafening but you can't win them all. Now to see if the dishwasher has experienced a similar epiphany...

I am also trying to decide what sort of nursing wear to buy. I think I have decided to get 2 of the Land's End overstock poplin nightshirts. I'm a little worried that I will want short sleeves but am thinking that at $7 a pop, if it comes to it, I can hack off the sleeves and hem them myself. I'm also going for 2 of the motherhood nursing tanks with built-in bras. I am also on a quest for somewhat stylish yoga pant/ zip-up hoodie outfits. In some ways, I'm finding this even more daunting than maternity shopping. At least with the maternity wear you could make rough stabs in the dark that if you were a medium, you would probably stay a medium but I have no real guideline as to how enthusiatic Bessie and Buttercup will be.

Finally, I made a leap of faith purchase yesterday. Both of my cargo pants met their demise last spring. So, when I was at our Gap Outlet (which has $9 yoga pants but only in hideous colors) I noticed they had some rather fetching cargo pants for quite good price and bought a pair in what is the high end of my pre-pregnancy size range. We will see how foolish that was in a few weeks...

The End is Nigh

I have definitely turned a corner in this pregnancy. It has become more daunting to think of being pregnant for more than a few more weeks than it is to think of all that is involved with having a person you are responsible for. I am ready to be woken in the middle of the night by something that will be cute at times and, in all probability, love me back until the age of 12 when I will become The Most embarrassing Person On Earth (I'm working on my collection of show tunes to hum while walking about with the poor child- if you're going to go down, it might as well be in flames). After all, I'm not sleeping for more than a few hours at a time anyway. I am ready to have more than 2 sleep position choices. I am SO ready to wear something other than these 2 damn pairs of capris. B. Moss' cute dresses are calling to me and don't spoil it all by pointing out the logistical nightmare which is breastfeeding in a dress- keep the dream alive!

I also seem to have started what some would call hard core nesting but I think it's really the precipice of panic with a healthy side of staying so busy I won't notice that it's actually, gasp, September. I am still happily convinced that it is August 26th. Floor boards are my current fixation. The other night I woke up to pee and simply had to go after the floor boards in the bathroom with a baby wipe (no, we still don't have water). As soon as we get water, hopefully tomorrow, I am so going after those pesky corners in the kitchen...

The town finished installing all of it's stuff on Friday and the well guys had hoped to get us switched over but Ernesto changed the plan. The well guys couldn't finish their previous job on Thursday since we had torrential rains and flash floods- to add insult to injury, this was the first major rain we had gotten since the saga began. They offered to come in on Saturday, but since it has to be inspected before they can actually turn the water on we would have simply been staring at a big trench in the yard until Tuesday when the inspector would be able to come. So, we have our fingers crossed that tomorrow will be the magic day. Of course, today it's pouring and they're calling for rain tomorrow too...

In happy news, I have discovered the 90210 marathon on the Soap station.

A Little Something...

Yesterday I felt a little tickly something. I can't say if it was fingers or toes but they were little and there were 5 (I would assume) and they tickled. I hadn't known that they could be cute even before you could see them.

Sheets

I can breathe a sigh of relief. I finished the 4th cradle sheet yesterday. The baby now has somewhere to sleep.

Now, if only we had water...

Good Heavens!

So, last night I suddenly realized that I was in week 35. I had been very happy with week 33. I was ready to hang with 33 for several more weeks. 33 and I, we're like that. In the early 30's, the pregnancy books were clearly at a loss for what to tell you. It was all summed up as, you know that stuff that sort of sucked last week? Well, this week it will suck slightly more. I am now wandering into the parts of the books where they begin to discuss things like how to tell if you're in labor and begin issuing dire warnings about packing bags and such. They all seem to also include a section about what to do if you wind up delivering at work. I'm not clear who these women are who manage to sail through the first 12 hours of labor and suddenly look up from a pleasant IM chat only to realize the baby is crowning. Nor am I clear why these women cart various pregnancy books with them to work. However, the gist seems to be that birth is messy so they offer various strategies for saving the office furniture and that you should not cut the cord.

We took our hospital tour last night. You could tell that I was the one who worked in early intervention as I was the only one asking detailed questions about level of NICU care available and wanting to know exactly how long it takes to get from our hospital to the one with the Level 3 care. There are definite advantages to delivering a small, regional hospital but a part of me longs for impersonality, hordes of residents, and incomprehensible layouts if it means my baby never will ride in an ambulance to get to the NICU. I keep telling myself that the chances that my baby will need that sort of care are infinitesimal, but we can add that to the list of irrational ideas that I can't shake, which includes the idea that my baby will be sitting on a rock in the wilderness (or at least the cow pasture out behind the hospital) until I personally have the baby in my arms. Ah, motherhood...

We are in the process of getting water. The town engineer, in what I suspect was divine intervention, apparently failed to realize that we didn't have an easement until the water guys had already laid the pipe. So, it looks like we will have water late next week (I sincerely hope since I'm waiting on the water to wash the baby stuff which needs to happen before I can pack the bag and the books are really freaking me out about the lack of bag packing thus far). But, we will have to pay for a survey which will wind up being rather expensive. Apparently, there is quite the tangle over the road and which parcels which of it goes with. Once they have figured out who owns the part of the road that the town used as an easement, we will have to convince that person to sign off on the easement. We're a little worried that it will wind up being the crazy guy on our street but the fact remains that the pipes are there so, he won't gain much by not agreeing to sign the paper. We're hoping that he will demand that we buy a couple of loads of gravel (he's a former ER doctor turned bulldozer/dumptruck operator...we don't get it either) so that he can regravel the road or something like that.

In news of the weird, my mother-in-law is completely convinced that Penny is going to drag the baby out of the cradle while the baby is sleeping. Motivation for Penny to decide to do this is still unknown and the fact that Penny is still fairly afraid of the cradle (or anything that rocks- the glider is highly worrisome for her as well we haven't put batteries in the swing yet but expect that to be quite the event) doesn't seem to mitigate her concern.

Charitable Thoughts on Morning Sickness

So, something unexpected has come out of this whole well thing. I have come away feeling almost good about my morning sickness. It turns out that it probably did what it was biologically designed to do (if a bit overly enthusiastically). Very shortly after I got pregnant, I decided that the water from our tap tasted bad so I avoided drinking it. When I did drink it, it had to go through the Brita which is less than perfect but still is another layer of filtration. After just a week or two more, I could no longer tolerate still water at all. So, any tap water I did drink was boiled prior to making a tummy soothing tea and most of the time I was mainlining ginger ale. My extended bout with morning sickness meant that I cooked very little food in my home. When I could eat, it was often in the form of pre-prepared foods like crackers or (on really good days) take out. I also followed a rule that anything I drank had to contain calories since liquids were often my main caloric source- that cut way back on the tap water consumption too. This means that the baby was probably minimally exposed to well water during the entire 1st trimester and a good hunk of the 2nd. I never really thought I could look back gratefully on 6 months of puking but, apparently I was wrong.

Thank you so much for your reassurances. I hadn't thought about the filtering effects of the placenta. They spend so much time telling you about what will pass, thoughts of what won't didn't readily occur to me.

I also keep looking out the windows. We have had flocks of hummingbirds coming to the feeders this year and they don't seem to be falling ill from pesticides. We have oodles of other birds flocking to our yard as well as squirrels and rabbits and chipmunks and butterflies. It looks like we actually have markedly more than last year and more than other people in our neighborhood. I think that at least some of the birds are those that were hatched in our trees last year. It seems to me that if things were all that bad, our spring would have been much more silent.

The town seems to understand our urgency in needing to get on the town water and have been very helpful thus far. Forms are being expedited and faxed. Work orders are already in place. We are a little apprehensive about the actual laying of the pipe. We aren't terribly sure about the status of our road, legally speaking. The town won't or doesn't like to (which is unclear) tear up private roads to lay pipe. When we bought our house we were told it was private but if you look at official maps from the town it's not marked as private, nor is the street sign. It's fairly obvious when you look at the road that it isn't maintained by the city as it's gravel. But the water guy, the town engineer, and the work order guy all signed off on the work to lay the pipe so, we're not going to raise the issue. Our biggest worry is that the very odd man who lives a little further down the road seems to think he owns the road which, according to what we can tell from the deed and such, he doesn't. But, he does own part and real estate law can be murky. We plan to plead ignorance if the matter comes up and assume that trying to stop the town, once it is in motion, will take longer than the laying of the pipe and then, eh...

My Fucking Stars and Garters

So, we're on well water. I had assumed my husband had been testing it, if not the recommended once a year, then at least periodically, but he had not. With his dawning realization that pregnancy results in an actual baby (which seems to generally happen around 7-8 months for most men), he decided to at last test the well.

It came back positive for both e. coli and coliform bacteria.

There was much freaking out.

The tests came back on Thursday afternoon and the soonest we could get the guys to come and shock the well was this morning. We can't shock the well ourselves because of the way the well was installed.

The well man took one look at the well and said "Well, there's your problem right there, your well isn't sealed." Yes, in fact, we have basically been drinking from a hole in ground for the last 3 years. The well is drilled with a drill that has a much larger circumference than the pipe that is used for the pipe that brings the water into the house. So, after they put in the pipe they are to grout it or cement it in so that the surface water doesn't just go directly into the drinking water- a significant amount of purification apparently happening with all that trickling through clay and rocks and whatnot. Instead, every time we've had a heavy rain our water was polluted with whatever happened to be around. I am so beyond horrified.

We don't generally use any chemicals on our lawn or garden for a variety of reasons- some environmental, some not wanting to figure out which chemicals we should use, and some being that we just don't care enough about crab grass and dandelions. But, the man who lived here before us was definitely not an organic guy. The well is also right next to the dog play area (it's quite nice sized). The dog poop gets cleaned up regularly but still... Our neighbors, not so organic. We're on a 1 acre lot and the well is in the middle of it so, we may have escaped the worst of contamination but who knows what I have been exposed to during my pregnancy really. The only real plus is that no one has gotten sick from our water (that we know of) and my husband keeps freshwater fish and they haven't been showing any particular problems that might indicate Really Bad Things.

Shocking the well will only be effective until our next big storm but will buy me a little time to do some laundry and such. However, our water isn't safe to drink. I can't wash any baby items since there is a cold rinse at the end of the cycle and babies chew on everything. I can't wash anything that will be used in contact with food like dishcloths, etc. All of our dishes need to be rewashed and sterilized. I can't cook with our water. When we brush our teeth, we need to use bottled water. Our water problems have just been magnified since now, we don't just need to worry about killing the bacteria but we also have to worry about chemicals and other non-biological pollutants.

We're planning on connecting to the city water if it's at all financially feasible (which it looks like it probably is) but that will take about 5 weeks (assuming the town guy gave us an accurate time estimate). The baby comes home in just over 6 weeks. This is pretty accurate since I'm having a scheduled c-section. If there is not digging happening in our yard by the week before the baby is scheduled, we're going to go ahead and shock and seal the well again. I refuse to bring my baby home to place where I won't be able to give the baby a bath, wash my hands, or wash the baby's clothing.

My husband is calling our realtor tomorrow. The well tested positive for coliform before we moved in (so, someone was supposed to tell us to re-test regularly but no one ever did). So, it was shocked but we're pretty sure they didn't wait the amount of time you need to wait before re-testing and giving the all clear. And, there's no way you can look at the well head and not see the big hole around it so it seems like there should have been some disclosure somewhere. But, Real Estate law is far from anything I know about and I have a feeling that this issue will be murky since I don't think we included "inspect well head" in our contract. We aren't particularly litigious but, if there is some way of getting help for paying for clean water or whatever, we'll take it.

Ugh! I'm so glad I went to all that effort to try to eat organic while pregnant...

Something's up...

I think that some sort of hormone shift must have occured over the last week. I became distraught yesterday when watching The Daily Show. They were doing this joke about using baby seals to seal the Alaskan pipeline. I also am starting to be a wee bit moody. And, there's totally something going on with my boobs.

Shirley has been a basket case all week for no identifiable reason. She keeps appearing stressed out when there are no identifiable stressors and it takes her an inordinate amount of time to tell me her tale of woe when I return from even very short outings.

Penny has been clingy for the last several days.

My husband has been getting progressively more schmoopy over the last day or so.

I expected at least the dogs to start getting a little wierd when I got close to my due date. I assumed I would smell different to them and such. But, I hadn't expected it to effect my husband and I certainally hadn't expected it to start at week 33.

Of Men and Dentists and Eating

Early this morning my husband and I had a bit of a tiff. It mainly revolved around the fact that he seems to have only figured out that there will be an actual baby living with us shortly in the last 2 weeks. I'm not sure what he thought was going to be the end result of this pregnancy but it didn't seem to be a baby that required things like a nursery. He had adapted wonderfully to pregnancy. The weeping, the getting me a glass of water at 3 am (what is up with this thirst?), the needing to help me out of the tub when I beached myself, puking at 4 am- all handled with good humor but the idea of a baby at the end was a distant sort of unreality. I've noticed this seems to be common among the expectant fathers. It seems that it is only in month 8 that the idea that pregnancy will end and a baby will come home (we hope and pray) really dawns on the fathers. One woman who is slightly further along than I am said that her husband woke her up after having a nightmare about the baby. When asked what the nightmare was he said that they had the baby and had to take it home and take care of it. Thankfully, realization has dawned on my husband and the nursery is close to done and things are getting ordered and such. What all of this has me wondering, however, is if this lag in realization (I had mine in mid-June) is unique to men or unique to the non-pregnant partner. In short, do lesbian couples run into this same problem? That would control for sex based differences in perception but still allow for only one member of the couple to be getting whammed in the ribs reguarly. Does anyone know?

Second, I finally went in for a dental cleaning last week. It was the most comfortable I've been in months. Everything was supported, nothing ached, I could breathe, my entire torso was happy. The cleaning itself was less than pleasant but the chair was a wonder. My husband suggested that we might get a dental chair of our own. I said that if we were planning on having a family of 10, perhaps, otherwise I'll just look forward to scheduling my late-pregnancy cleaning from now on.

Third, what is up with the baby making me need all these calories but then squishing up my stomach so much that it's impossible to actually eat? And, in one of those "wonder of pregnancy/the hell" sorts of things, drinking water in the night now causes heartburn and I required Tums! For water! Thai food for dinner- totally fine! But water- verboten! Argh!

Argh!

I think I am beginning to understand why the mommy isn't usually very involved with her shower. It's not really a matter of etiquette, instead it is a matter of keeping sane with all these damn hormones. I didn't want to include registry registry information in the baby shower invitation. I feel like the point of the shower is to come together. The gifts are great but, I didn't want to feel like there was an entrance fee or obligation. My host really wanted to include the information. So, we compromised with an insert that said something along the lines of "although a gift is not necessary, they are registered at Target under the names..." My Mother-in-Law has decreed this to be really weird. I'm just glad she didn't decide it was some sort of communist plot on my part or something. She tends to consistently search for the most negative connotation of anything I do or say so, this is actually a step forward...

The registry is giving me fits as well. There is actually a lot of psychology that goes into creating a "good" registry. I consider that to be one from which you actually get most of what you registered for and that most people won't look at and think "what was she thinking?" (as I did recently upon discovering that the bride had registered for a cherry pitter and handheld lime squeezer as well as lemon squeezer but only 2 sets of towels). I take into consideration the guests and what their expectations are. For our bridal registry I kept in mind that a number of our guests were graduate students and recent college grads with no money and made sure that there were plenty of gifts available in the $20-$40 range. I also knew that we had a hunk of people who were in the southern old guard and would consider the only appropriate wedding gift china or crystal- for them, there was the Dillard's registry. This is much more difficult with baby stuff. For the bridal registry, there were 7 different towel price ranges and I could pick according to our projected shopper, with baby stuff there is usually only the high and low option. For the bridal registry, I was picking items out for people I knew well (myself and my husband) and I was somewhat familiar with the items- I knew I preferred flannel sheets. For the baby registry I am picking items out for someone I've never met, to do tasks I've never done.

Checking on the registry also causes a hissing and a scandal on the message board I frequent. Most of the members view checking the registry as "cheating." I view it as being a responsibility. I check our registry reguarly. I want to be sure that items are still in stock. I make sure that there are still gifts in a range of prices that will appeal to a variety of gift givers. For instance, some people want to buy something cute while some people want to buy books and some want to buy something really practical. I want to make sure that no one gets to the registry only to discover that the only item still available is the $170 stroller. It just seems to me that if someone is going to the trouble of buying off the registry, it's your job to make it user friendly. Of course, it's also a thrill to discover that someone actually bought us the baby monitor...

Progress

This has been a week of accomplishments, small, but accomplishments neverless. My husband (I totally have to give him a nickname. I'm leaning towards snookums simply because there is no way I would ever get to call him that otherwise.) and I attended the breastfeeding class. The Early Inteventionist in my heart loved the class. Someone had been busting their ass with the outreach and there was a good representation of women who don't have the option to stay home indefinitely, don't have fabulous social supports, and don't have a partner cheering them on. In short, I was counting my blessings by the time I left. The Lactation Consultant was approachable and covered the topics that were pertinent to the majority of the class (if not quite for me). There was significant discussion of how to breastfeed at the mall, which pumps will still leave you time to eat lunch on your 30 minute break, and what to do if you get drunk at Applebee's (pump and dump). At the same time, the information was current and I got the impression that the LC was strongly advocating for progressive policies at the hospital. By the end of the class, I had decided on my pump (Medela Double Select) and knew that I no longer had to stress about acquiring a nursing bra since they will fit you and sell you a bra while you're there. I also have the price list and will be able to do some comparison shopping on things like lanolin and whatnot this weekend but, thus far, the prices seem reasonable.

My tomatoes show some signs of perhaps getting ripe before the summer actually ends and the gladioli and phlox have started to bloom so there are fresh flowers in the house again.

I've almost finished compiling the recipies for meals I plan to freeze and meals that Snookums (hee!) can make without a great deal of difficulty. I made sure to include all the things that other recipies leave out like "turn on exhaust fan."

I finished designing our Christmas card, birth announcement, and shower thank-you notes and should have an order in for the supplies this weekend. Of course, I had originally wanted to get the order in last week but, alas... I also received the supplies to make these really cute little baby bootie soaps that will be the shower favors. I'm a little wierded out by the amount of involvement I've had in the planning of this shower but, it just seems to be the way things are working out.

In baby news, the baby seems to be solidly in the head-down position and I have a feeling the baby is growing like mad. Once a week or so I get super hungry and then spend the next day sleeping. I assume this indicates a growth spurt on the part of the baby. While the baby still has a fixation on my right ribs, the baby seems to have shifted a bit to allow me to occasionally go a whole 2 hours without having to go to the bathroom.

Nesting and Calendar Disputes

I seem to be nesting. It's the only reason I can think of for waking up at 3 am with a burning desire to a) weed the garden b) do laundry or c) make a fall wreath to put over the fireplace. In other news, things seem to continue to chug along. Sleeping is getting somewhat better. I even seem to be ok with 8-10 hours of sleep (assuming I actually slept) instead of my peak amount of 12-14 hours a day during early pregnancy. It's amazing how much you can get done when you're conscious for more than 1/2 the day. I have noticed a few little "blips" though that I assume correspond with fetal growth spurts. I'll suddenly be ravenous and then the next day need vast quantities of sleep.

In the latest baby trick, when the baby is positioned just right, I can rub or tap her body in my rib region (in what is always a fruitless attemp to convince her to scootch over) and feel it in my heinie. I would assume that would be the vibration traveling down her body to her head which is hanging out in the very bottom of my pelvis (where she should be).

My husband has suddenly been spurred on to make great strides in preparing for the baby. I suspect he's nesting too... Although, he claims that it's actually because there are fewer than 2 calendar months left until the baby is born. This brings me to an on-going dispute between the 2 of us which shows just how boring our lives must be. I keep referring to how many months along I am via 4 week intervals, as such, I find the "What to Expect" book really irritating since they monkey with the weeks a bit to make them go along with 9 calendar months. This makes my husband happy since he argues that this makes sense since pregnancy is "9 months long." I make the argument that girl months are lunar. This means that pregnancy is actually just brushing 10 girl months by the end of 40 weeks. I support my argument with the whole thing about your period comes once a month but it actually comes every 28 days (for at least a hunk of women) so, it winds up that you get roughly 13 periods in a 1 year period. I choose to look at these disparities between girl time and standard calendar time as a lovely little way that women don't let the man get them down although, that might be reaching...

My Biggest Parenting Fear

During the course of my life I have changed thousands of diapers. I have navigated the transition to solid foods. I have had graduate level courses that spent at least 2 sessions on potty training and have been responsible for helping potty train children that really just didn't get it. I have experienced, and worked on quelling, tantrums that involved room clears and chair throwing. I've worked with children who were not going to just develop social, motor, or communication skills in the way that many other children will and I have at least some idea of how to foster those skills. While this doesn't mean that I have ever actually been a parent it does mean that I, at least, have some idea of where to start tackling the issue. I have some clue as to what to expect. I know that I have dealt with these issues before and no one died or had to be sedated. However, I have never been responsible for or trained in how to get a child to sleep through the night. The same can be said for breast feeding. But, with breast feeding there is always the fall back position of bottle, lactation consultant, and formula. With night sleeping, there is no fall back. There is just this sea of advice mixed with horror stories (most notably my mother's). I have started reading books. I just finished "The Happiest Baby on the Block" and will start the "Baby Whisperer" tomorrow. I will give Brazelton his day in the sun and will be happy to at least give a passing nod to any other books that seem prudent. But, when it comes down to it, every baby is different and this will be the only one I will have done this with. I have had no "dry runs" with other people's children. I haven't been able to filter through and test run the various advice, distilling out the most effective strategies from each. I have never written an IEP for sleep or broken it down into it's most basic steps to figure out where it's all coming apart. I don't know the readiness indicators. I am going into the sleep abyss completely unarmed. It's terrifying.

In other news, I am flumoxed by how to sleep through the night myself and there are no books in the library devoted to this issue. My knees and ankles are all knobby and like a nice pillow to cushion them but this makes my hips sore faster and results in me having to turn over every 45 minutes or so by about 2am and every time I roll over I have to pee. I seem to be the only pregnant woman on the planet who doesn't actually find a body pillow useful. If I roll over a little to get the pressure off my hips, my belly muscles get pulled but I can't figure out where to stuff the pillow to get enough support for my belly and then I have to pee again just because what's more fun than peeing every 45 minutes for the hell of it. The baby has something going on with my right side and likes to huddle over there which makes my spine and ribs irritable so I try to lay on my left and let gravity help out but then it all goes pear shaped because I think my bladder is somewhere on my left side and, so, my ribs are happier but, of course, I have to pee. And, if I do manage the impossible and convince the baby to hang out in the middle of my uterus, making ribs, spine, and bladder happy (I am convinced my lungs are just inconsolable at this point), the baby becomes all about how many times can I simultaneously punch mommy's cervix and kick her ribs. I have some sort of mild congestion thing going so, I keep wanting to sleep propped up but my tail bone is sore from I don't know what but obviously something baby related and my ribs would like a moment of my time to discuss all of this. My spine and hips would also like me flat which brings me back to where I started with my knobby knees and ankles. Oh, and I have to pee...

I am beginning to think that I could achieve world peace if only I could sleep on my back for one night. My mother says that she did but she also (on doctor's orders) intentionally restricted her caloric intake to result in smaller babies so she wouldn't need a c-section so, I take most of her pregnancy advice with about 2 cups of salt.

Drive By Post

1- Totally craving sauerbraten (I think). It's taken me a while to figure out what the food is that I'm craving. I know it involves raisins, a creamy sauce, and meat, and I'm pretty sure it's a German food that I've only had a couple of times, at least 10 years ago.

2- How long will it take for my uterus to begin to be compared to citrus fruit again?

All Is Well

I took my 3 hour glucose test and passed- yipee! Should you ever have to sit around a hospital lab waiting area for an extended period of time I highly recommend going the route I did and bringing a laptop and a season of something to watch.

The baby is doing well. She has moved into the head down position and is enjoying both my lungs and bladder as excellent resting spots. By far, one of the oddest experiences I have had, as of yet, is the feeling of a wee foot playing with my ribs. The baby seems to revel in making her favorite rib twitch back and forth. I am currently deluding myself with the assurance that the baby will "settle" soon and I will get the use of my lungs back. Please don't disillusion me about this issue. While in the process of wandering into the head down position, I had a wee bit of concern. All the moving and adjustment of parts seems to have worn the baby out for a couple of days but she's back to making my laptop and books bounce yet again. I also had to adjust to feeling the baby in new spots. I have to say that feeling baby hiccups in my heinie is quite the new experience...

Am I the only one who always wants to giggle when she hears the word "fundus?" I either immediately leap to "There is fungus among us" (which isn't actually all that funny but always makes me giggle anyway) or to think of the Bay of Fundy which leads me to grunion runs (although the 2 are absolutely not related) and for some reason the word "grunion" totally makes me laugh. I suppose my OB has seen odder than mild hysteria brought on by the phrase "fundal height" but I was hoping to give the impression I was at least mildly well balanced. At any rate, my fundal height is precisely what it should be.

We are beginning to get inquiries as to when official viewing of the baby might occur. My husband and I have decided that while immediate family will be invited to see the baby earlier, as well as a friend or two who have agreed to offer no parenting advice while pitching in with household chores, the general viewing period will be Christmas. We think that having the masses descend in one 3-5 day period will be somewhat stressful during said period but will allows us to get the whole thing over with while only cleaning the house once. I have also requested a visit from a cleaning service shortly before they will all come. As an added bonus, there is no way we could actually accommodate more than 2 couples at our house so, hotels will be a must. In the meantime, I have been spending a good hunk of time telling people that they don't actually want to see a newborn, what they really want to see is a 3 month old. Newborns are squashy faced, have little personality, can't see, and do little but poop, sleep, and eat. 3 month olds have started to get some personality, are actually cute, and are beginning to interact with the world. We're also waving the carrot of "Baby's first Christmas" in front of their noses- we'll see how it goes...

The dogs are beginning to notice that something might be going on. My boobs are becoming increasingly fascinating with sniffing my chest sometimes taking precedence over sniffing of any other body parts. However, Shirley continues to fall asleep while I try to discuss my pregnancy with her.

The Heat of the Past

Like most of the country, we are in the middle of a searing heat. There's actually a little cactus in the icon for tomorrow's weather. As a pregnant woman, I'm mostly staying in. But when I do venture out, all I can think of is my summer visits to my grandparent's house. They live in the flat farmland of southern Missouri. It was always this sort of hot at my grandparent's house in the summer. It's the sort of hot that begs for pools and sprinklers and those icy pops that come in the plastic wrapper in boxes of 100 that never have enough of the purples. When you step out the door all you can smell is the humid air, sweetened with the smell of the drying grass clippings and the roses. Dinner, served promptly at noon, features tomatoes and corn in abundance and there is nothing quite so sweet or flavorful in all creation. Someone would have picked corn up from a farm stand early in the morning, checking to be sure the ears still felt warm from being in the field. The tomatoes would be from a friend's garden, so heavy and ripe you couldn't be sure how they had stayed on the vine. As I grew older, I sometimes helped with the shucking and freezing of the corn but I was never deemed quite good enough at getting all the "milk." In the mercy of the twilight you sit on the old swingset and daydream about the books you read in the heat of the afternoon, sitting in the dark livingroom with the shades closed tight, chilly in the air conditioning (southerners like to make up for all those years spent sweating before the miracle invention) and drinking coke from a glass bottle. Before you go to bed you take a bath to cool you down and carefully count your bug bites as you apply the calmomine and wonder which you'll have more of- freckles or bug bites. Bedtime comes with thunderstorms. It seems there was always at least one good one while we would be out there. My brother didn't mind them but I was terrified of the noise and flashes. My mother would tell me stories of when she was a little girl and sit with me until the cool of the percale and the tick and whirl of the ceiling fan would lull me to sleep.

The Section of my Brain Used for Witty Titles is Being Used by the Baby

We had a lovely trip up to the Northeast. We got to see all manner of people whom we had been missing, re-visited the Mecca which is Wegman's grocery, and no longer felt like the most liberal people in a 50 mile radius. The only down-side was when we went out for seafood because it was Cape Cod and I couldn't leave without some clam chowder and some sort of lobster experience (I was pretty sure clams would wind up being a mistake). I discovered that I apparently have developed a rather severe lobster aversion. The level of solicitous service you get when your waiter spots you trying desperately not to hurl in the middle of a nice restaurant is rather astounding. Happily, deep breathing averted the crisis and I was quite thankful I had decided against the lobster roll, opting for an appetizer instead.

I beached myself in the tub the other day. We recently remodeled the bathroom and got this luscious tub. It's deep and comfy and has arm rests and is apparently impossible to get out of once your center of gravity wanders up to your ribcage. I began thinking that it was at times like that that I wished we had gone for a nice Malamute or St. Bernard. A 25 pound Beagle is of little use in such a situation other than the possibility of her adding loud howls to your hollering. Unfortunately, Shirley was far too busy napping on the bath mat to offer assistance.

I failed my 1 hour diabetes screen by more than 50 points so, I'm off for my 3 hour at 7:15 on Monday morning. My spectacular failure was quite surprising as I have absolutely no risk factors but there it is. Unfortunately, I found out I failed just before we left for vacation and the main advice the nurse was able to give me was to avoid sweets and carbs. This was rather amazingly unhelpful. The information I was able to find on-line about Gestational Diabetes was pretty heavy on the "see a nutritionist as soon as possible" and very light on actual numbers I could use to make it through the next week. So, I went with the South Beach recs. I later found out that the carb limits other pregnant women had been given and the South Beach diet were rather wildly different which explains why I spent most of last week hungry. While I'm not looking forward to the fasting and multiple blood draws, I am really looking forward to getting a definitive diagnosis and seeing someone who can tell me yea or nay on the whole fruit issue.

I keep telling myself that even if I completely mess up and managed to still eat completely the wrong things over the last week and a half, the main possible side effect will be that I will have a fat baby. The problem is that I briefly worked with a little girl whose mother had very poorly controlled diabetes during pregnancy. The little girl had a compromised immune system, was on oxygen, had circulatory problems, and had severely stunted limb development. While I understand that pre-existing diabetes and gestational diabeties are 2 completely different things in terms of fetal development and I know that my ultrasound looked great, the part of me that worries that my child will be left on a rock until I get out of c-section recovery also is convinced that 1 sugar misstep will result in an abnormality that is All My Fault.

I have since received all manner of advice on what to eat and my favorite is the "make at home egg mcmuffin." After a fair amount of experimentation, I seem to have finally hit upon the microwave setting that allows for "no listeria" but falls just shy of "autoclave." The really sad thing is that this totally made my day.

Such a Homely Dog

My father came up this week to help my husband install a new handrail for the stairs. The previous handrail was a metal monstrosity featuring blinking neon lights saying "crawl through here" and "get your head stuck here." We think it was original to the house (40 some years old) and had apparently last seen maintenance upon installation. We now have a lovely oak stair rail that is woefully lacking in openings large enough for puppies or babies to fit through. While my father was here, he commented that he's really starting to "get" the fact that he's going to be a grandfather. I understand that the men in our lives have no little somethings sleeping on their bladder, jazzercising at 4:30 am, or considering the location where their lungs used to be a great vacation home but still, why does it take them such a long while to figure out that pregnancy actually does generally result in a baby?

I have recently begun to get anxious that I won't like my baby. What if I don't think the baby's cute? What if the baby has some weird birthmark? Can you really like a little being that wakes you up every 1.5 hours? What about when the kid turns 6. I don't tend to enjoy kids between 6 and 10. There have been some that I've liked but, on the whole, not my favorite developmental period. Since logical thought and the fact that most parents seem to like their kids most of the time seems to be making nary a dent in my newest pregnant lady worries, I decided to look to my dogs.

Before we got Penny I wasn't really a dog person. Dogs were ok but not pivotal to my life's happiness. Within a day of bringing her home, I was a total mush pot. Within 6 months of bringing her home, I started making her homemade puppy treats and recovering pillows for her use. I paid attention to how long I was out for and took walks in pouring rain. However, Penny is an incredibly cute dog. She is about 35 pounds making her a nice comfortable size. She has this lovely, fluffy coat and warm brown eyes. She is the sweetest dog you could imagine. When I take the dogs for walks, everyone wants to pat Penny. Unfortunately, during the 10 weeks or so that she was on some random person's farm as a wee puppy she was not astoundingly well treated and is quite shy. Enter Shirley. Shirley is generally the second choice for pats but is so very enthusiastic about being patted that everyone winds up patting her while Penny backs away.

When I found Shirley at the humane society she was quite the homely dog. She was an old dog- at least 10. She had horrible breath. She was overweight. She had dandruff and a bare spot on her tail, probably from chewing at fleas. She had had a stroke that left her face lopsided. She smelled. Her coat tended to be greasy and thin. She was also a little on the crotchety side and had arthritis that made her less that sprightly. She's sort of deaf and sort of blind and lacked "cognitive stimulation" in her previous homes. However, she had somehow managed to be brought into 3 previous homes and though a series of unfortunate events was looking for number 4. It took a little while for her to meld into our home. When she first came, she didn't realize that there were treats, soft spots to nap, pats, and attention for all and thought she needed to compete for them. She was housetrained but her manners needed some work. It took a while for good food, regular grooming, and a healthy home to take care of her weight, skin, insecurities, and coat. But still, I liked Shirley from the beginning. She's a small beagle, which works to her advantage and she's very people oriented. She doesn't totally understand other dogs but people, she knows. She will follow you around; "talk" to you; nap with you. When you get up in the morning or home in the evening you are greeted with enthusiastic "full body wags" and delighted yodels. It took a while for all this personality to show but, from the beginning, I liked her. When we're on walks, Shirley isn't the one everyone wants to pat but she's the one everyone winds up patting. She isn't the cute one but winds up being liked anyway. She took a while to get used to Penny and would break my heart but I stuck it out and kept her anyway (the fact that Penny outweighs her, is younger by 10 years, and that Shirley has almost no teeth helped a lot). I remember all this at 3 am when I'm worried about liking the baby. It seems to me that if I could like this homely dog, surely I will like my own baby.

We're traveling for the next week. See you on my return...