Cry it out. What are your thoughts on this (assuming you have any)? The baby of course, not me. Although occasionally I have been known to cry it out too. :)
Up until recently I have been adamantly against letting G cry for any length of time. My natural instincts led me to inadvertently subscribe to the "attachment parenting" method of parenting. I say "inadvertently" because prior to having him I had not read up on attachment parenting or any other style of parenting for that matter. I wasn't a baby whisperer or a happiest baby on the block-er. I was just me. A fairly laid back, sensitive, sometimes planner, who was ok with winging it. My past experience with babies had taught me that "planning" was futile. The baby, to a large extent, is in charge. Early on you can attempt to direct and guide their day, but if they decide 2:00am is a perfect play time there's not a whole lot you can do to convince them otherwise.
After G was born my own parenting style began to take form. Lots of holding, carrying in various carriers (two Moby wraps, a Bjorn and a Beco), exclusively breast feeding (and I do mean exclusively, this kid won't take a bottle to save his life), co-sleeping/family bed (more for my sanity than for his benefit) and never letting him cry if it was in my control. I'll admit sometimes he was left to cry when I had to run to the bathroom or on a long drive over a twisty mountain road where there was nowhere to pull over, but you better believe there was no other choice and the mommy guilt hit hard.
Fast forward to present day. As I have already mentioned, G isn't exactly a good sleeper which in turn has turned me into a non-sleeper. As is typical with babies, just when I think one thing works/does the trick he switches it up and I have to work to find the new thing that will help him sleep. For a long long time the only two ways for him to fall asleep were nursing and his swing. Then one day it was like a switch was flipped and that just wasn't doing it anymore. Suddenly I had to stand by his crib and vigorously pat his stomach while repeating "shh shh shh" over and over. Then there was this blissful week where I could put him in his crib, walk away and he would fall to sleep on his own. Pure magic.
Just to keep things new and fresh, my little monster has decided to switch things up again. Last night we went through the whole routine, pajamas, books, nursing, rocking, bed. It worked. Then an hour later he was up. No amount of patting or shooshing helped. Nursed again just to calm him down and back to bed. This happened over and over until midnight when he finally gave up... for four hours, then he did it some more. It's nights like this that I find myself faced with the decision of letting him cry it out. I'm so tired. So desperate for him to sleep. What do you do when none of your "tricks" are working? Do you really just leave your baby to sob in his crib? If you do, how do you not cry it out yourself? How long do you let him cry? What do you do if you have a baby that just doesn't stop crying?
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
A New Post For The New Year
Friends, family, countrymen, I am back! It has been pointed out to me that I have grossly neglected my blog and although I have frequently thought of posting, life has always gotten in the way. I have so many ideas for blog topics swirling around in my head. Babies and (lack of) sleep, sleep deprivation, babies and marriage, babies and depression/anxiety, baby milestones, baby smiles and kisses. So much to say. For now, as G-Man naps, I will do a quick update, newsletter style.
~ G-Man is now (almost) 6 months old. How in the world did that happen? At his 4 month check-up he weighed 14lbs 11oz and was 27 inches (hello 96th percentile). When I last weighed him at home, by oh so scientifically weighing myself and then doing it again while holding him, he was weighing in at around 16lbs. We will have the official 6 month stats in a couple of weeks.
~ Developmental milestones: G can now roll both ways, sit unassisted for a few impressive seconds, push up with his arms and when placed on his hands and knees stay up (also for a few precious seconds). He is scooting around, grabbing at toys, and putting everything he can into his mouth. He recently discovered his feet and is in love. He especially loves to grab them while taking his bath, unfortunately this habit has, more than once, led to him rolling over in the tub. Hello water up the nose.
~ Sleep: Doesn't happen. Still. Well actually that's not quite true. If you had asked me last week it would have been. My little monster's day looked something like this: Wake up between 8:00 and 9:00am. Play. Attempt a nap in the swing around 10:00, maybe 30 minutes if we were lucky. Play some more, get super cranky and attempt another nap around noon. Play some more and another attempt at a nap some time in the early evening. (Notice the use of the word "attempt"). Between 6-7 we would start our bedtime routine. Bath, pajamas, books, nurse to sleep. From there on out our nights were a total crap-shoot. G-Man consistently woke every one to two hours for the rest of the night until morning. Then, miraculously, last Tuesday he started taking naps, on his own, in his crib. What really happened was Monday night, after literally no naps during the day, he refused to go to sleep while nursing. Utterly frustrated and tired I put him into his co-sleeper and just sat there patting his belly and shooshing him while he cried. I didn't know what else to do. To my complete surprise, he fell asleep. Sure it happened 45 minutes later, but still he fell asleep. So I tried it again the next day for naps and it kept working. Now he falls asleep on his own for naps (did I mention the naps are in his crib???) about 85% of the time. Now we are working on his night time sleep habits. Still up every hour. :(
~ Sleep Deprivation: Needless to say, I am beyond sleep deprived. The circles under my eyes are so deep purple I look like I have two black eyes. I went to the doctor for a regular check-up without makeup on and she wanted to know what was wrong with me. I haven't slept for more than two consecutive hours in over 6 months (remember that whole getting up to pee 10 times a night when I was pregnant?). I am tired. Very very tired. Husband works 14+ hours a day and more often than not nights are left to me. I am "on" 24 hours a day. My "break" is the 20 minute shower I get in the evening. Bliss. As a not so pleasant side effect I have, to a small degree, experienced some postpartum anxiety/depression. I'm not talking "Down Came the Rain" level of depression, but still, it hasn't been fun. It affects my ability to be a mom, a friend, and a wife. I'm not really at a place where I want to talk about it beyond that, but maybe some day I will share in a future post. Let's just say being a mom is the hardest thing I have ever done.
~ Coming Up: We've made it through the holidays and now it's time to make plans. G and I will be returning to our Mommy and Me classes (more on that later) and hopefully making new friends now that he has become more aware of the other babies. I plan to enroll him in swim lessons at the end of the month since he loves loves loves to splash around during bath time. I'm still hoping this little pooch on my stomach and excess baggage in the hips/thigh area will magically disappear, if not maybe I'll actually get around to doing something about it. G is working hard on crawling so there will definitely be some major baby proofing going on in the near future. I also hope to get back into my regular life, at least a little bit. Play World of Warcraft with the family, maybe squeeze in a visit or two with some very missed friends, maybe have a date with Husband, go for walks, read books that aren't about how to get my baby to sleep, just generally enjoy the way things are.
Happy New Year!!!!
~ G-Man is now (almost) 6 months old. How in the world did that happen? At his 4 month check-up he weighed 14lbs 11oz and was 27 inches (hello 96th percentile). When I last weighed him at home, by oh so scientifically weighing myself and then doing it again while holding him, he was weighing in at around 16lbs. We will have the official 6 month stats in a couple of weeks.
~ Developmental milestones: G can now roll both ways, sit unassisted for a few impressive seconds, push up with his arms and when placed on his hands and knees stay up (also for a few precious seconds). He is scooting around, grabbing at toys, and putting everything he can into his mouth. He recently discovered his feet and is in love. He especially loves to grab them while taking his bath, unfortunately this habit has, more than once, led to him rolling over in the tub. Hello water up the nose.
~ Sleep: Doesn't happen. Still. Well actually that's not quite true. If you had asked me last week it would have been. My little monster's day looked something like this: Wake up between 8:00 and 9:00am. Play. Attempt a nap in the swing around 10:00, maybe 30 minutes if we were lucky. Play some more, get super cranky and attempt another nap around noon. Play some more and another attempt at a nap some time in the early evening. (Notice the use of the word "attempt"). Between 6-7 we would start our bedtime routine. Bath, pajamas, books, nurse to sleep. From there on out our nights were a total crap-shoot. G-Man consistently woke every one to two hours for the rest of the night until morning. Then, miraculously, last Tuesday he started taking naps, on his own, in his crib. What really happened was Monday night, after literally no naps during the day, he refused to go to sleep while nursing. Utterly frustrated and tired I put him into his co-sleeper and just sat there patting his belly and shooshing him while he cried. I didn't know what else to do. To my complete surprise, he fell asleep. Sure it happened 45 minutes later, but still he fell asleep. So I tried it again the next day for naps and it kept working. Now he falls asleep on his own for naps (did I mention the naps are in his crib???) about 85% of the time. Now we are working on his night time sleep habits. Still up every hour. :(
~ Sleep Deprivation: Needless to say, I am beyond sleep deprived. The circles under my eyes are so deep purple I look like I have two black eyes. I went to the doctor for a regular check-up without makeup on and she wanted to know what was wrong with me. I haven't slept for more than two consecutive hours in over 6 months (remember that whole getting up to pee 10 times a night when I was pregnant?). I am tired. Very very tired. Husband works 14+ hours a day and more often than not nights are left to me. I am "on" 24 hours a day. My "break" is the 20 minute shower I get in the evening. Bliss. As a not so pleasant side effect I have, to a small degree, experienced some postpartum anxiety/depression. I'm not talking "Down Came the Rain" level of depression, but still, it hasn't been fun. It affects my ability to be a mom, a friend, and a wife. I'm not really at a place where I want to talk about it beyond that, but maybe some day I will share in a future post. Let's just say being a mom is the hardest thing I have ever done.
~ Coming Up: We've made it through the holidays and now it's time to make plans. G and I will be returning to our Mommy and Me classes (more on that later) and hopefully making new friends now that he has become more aware of the other babies. I plan to enroll him in swim lessons at the end of the month since he loves loves loves to splash around during bath time. I'm still hoping this little pooch on my stomach and excess baggage in the hips/thigh area will magically disappear, if not maybe I'll actually get around to doing something about it. G is working hard on crawling so there will definitely be some major baby proofing going on in the near future. I also hope to get back into my regular life, at least a little bit. Play World of Warcraft with the family, maybe squeeze in a visit or two with some very missed friends, maybe have a date with Husband, go for walks, read books that aren't about how to get my baby to sleep, just generally enjoy the way things are.
Happy New Year!!!!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Mom Jeans
Seriously, whose body is this and when do I get mine back?! This is the question that keeps running through my mind. Every time I pass a mirror and see my little belly poking through my maternity tanks (yes I'm still wearing them, don't judge!), or my new found muffin top squeezing over the top of my pants, or my suddenly wider/fuller hips, or even the new found boobage. Whose body is this and how/when can I get mine back?
I don't want to misrepresent myself by implying that I am in some way enormous or somehow misshapen. I am sure there are plenty of women out there who would love to be my size. In fact I once was one of them. In my adult years I have run the gamut when it comes to clothing sizes. I've been a size two, a size twelve, and every size in between. So where did I fall prior to getting pregnant? After three years of working off about twenty pounds I was down to a very respectable size six. I was happy with my size, felt I could have stood to be a bit more fit/toned, but otherwise was happy. Then I got a job that required a lot of physical activity and suddenly I found myself in a size four. I was in that size for about eight months prior to getting pregnant. I was small. Not too small, but definitely small.
I understood when I saw those two lines on that little stick that I might never slip those size fours on again and I was ok with that. I don't need to be a size four. I'd rather not be a size twelve again, but I definitely don't need to be a size four. Fast forward eleven months and I've lost twenty of the thirty-two pounds I gained during my pregnancy. Pretty good right? Yeah, I think so too, except it seems to have stalled out there. No more weight loss. I've tried to increase my activity level and eat as healthy as I can, and nothing. In fact I think I gained a pound back. *sigh* This lack of weight loss has left me with quite the quandary. Do I continue to wear maternity clothes (almost three months out) or do I break down and buy some clothes that actually fit? Ultimately, the latter seemed like the least depressing option. So off to the store I went.
***I could create a whole post on what it's like to go clothes shopping with a baby so let's just say that it sucks. Lots of screaming, stress and anxiety. Imagine a red faced two month old, crammed into a tiny dressing room, protesting so loudly that his screams echo off the dressing room walls. All the while you are dealing with the horror that is dressing room mirrors and lighting. Good times.***
The process of finding pants that fit has been a long and arduous one. I have made several trips to the store only to be stymied by baby G, or the lack of selection (I live in a small town), or the sad realization that my body is just not the same. I will admit that I was somewhat sad to be trying on size eights, but really the size is not what makes me the most sad. Ultimately I'm fine with the number, it's the way clothes fit me now. Although I never had a very toned physique this is a whole new level of squishy. My body has turned into some sort of fleshy form of bread dough. There are lumps in places that used to be relatively smooth. My stomach looks like it did in my first trimester and the love handles, ugh don't even get me started. In order to find pants that don't squish said fat out the top like a muffin I am forced to try on size tens, but then the rest of the pants don't fit, they sag in the butt and thighs. Not attractive. So what do I do? Saggy butt or muffin top? *sigh*
After five shopping trips, eight stores, and countless pairs of jeans I finally figured it out. The "mom jeans." The women on What Not To Wear always talk about their comfort. They just want to be comfortable. But I don't think that's really it. It's their bodies. They have changed and they no longer know how to dress their new shape. They gave up. Why not just put on a pair of pants that fit around the waist and are comfortable. Who wants to deal with their fat being squished while they run after their little ones? Not me. Standing in the dressing room, G's screams ringing in my ears, and a pile of rejected clothes that would have once looked good on me, I suddenly understood. I wanted to give up. That's it, I'm throwing in the towel. Where can I find myself a good pair of mom jeans? *sigh*
You'll be glad to know I didn't actually find myself a pair of mom jeans, but I certainly thought about it. Instead I chose the pants with the least offensive muffin top and a few flowy tops that cover the unpleasant lumps and maximize the desirable ones (eh hem). At this point I'm not ready to give up. perhaps someday, after a few more children I will, but this one little baby isn't going to change everything. Once upon a time I loved fashion. I had subscriptions to In Style and Vogue. I knew how to put an outfit together. Somehow over the last year I've lost that ability and with my new found body the task is even more challenging. Yes I spend much of my day in sweats, but I have resolved to try to look good if I leave the house. Yes I may have spit up on me, but by God the clothes are going to look good!
I don't want to misrepresent myself by implying that I am in some way enormous or somehow misshapen. I am sure there are plenty of women out there who would love to be my size. In fact I once was one of them. In my adult years I have run the gamut when it comes to clothing sizes. I've been a size two, a size twelve, and every size in between. So where did I fall prior to getting pregnant? After three years of working off about twenty pounds I was down to a very respectable size six. I was happy with my size, felt I could have stood to be a bit more fit/toned, but otherwise was happy. Then I got a job that required a lot of physical activity and suddenly I found myself in a size four. I was in that size for about eight months prior to getting pregnant. I was small. Not too small, but definitely small.
I understood when I saw those two lines on that little stick that I might never slip those size fours on again and I was ok with that. I don't need to be a size four. I'd rather not be a size twelve again, but I definitely don't need to be a size four. Fast forward eleven months and I've lost twenty of the thirty-two pounds I gained during my pregnancy. Pretty good right? Yeah, I think so too, except it seems to have stalled out there. No more weight loss. I've tried to increase my activity level and eat as healthy as I can, and nothing. In fact I think I gained a pound back. *sigh* This lack of weight loss has left me with quite the quandary. Do I continue to wear maternity clothes (almost three months out) or do I break down and buy some clothes that actually fit? Ultimately, the latter seemed like the least depressing option. So off to the store I went.
***I could create a whole post on what it's like to go clothes shopping with a baby so let's just say that it sucks. Lots of screaming, stress and anxiety. Imagine a red faced two month old, crammed into a tiny dressing room, protesting so loudly that his screams echo off the dressing room walls. All the while you are dealing with the horror that is dressing room mirrors and lighting. Good times.***
The process of finding pants that fit has been a long and arduous one. I have made several trips to the store only to be stymied by baby G, or the lack of selection (I live in a small town), or the sad realization that my body is just not the same. I will admit that I was somewhat sad to be trying on size eights, but really the size is not what makes me the most sad. Ultimately I'm fine with the number, it's the way clothes fit me now. Although I never had a very toned physique this is a whole new level of squishy. My body has turned into some sort of fleshy form of bread dough. There are lumps in places that used to be relatively smooth. My stomach looks like it did in my first trimester and the love handles, ugh don't even get me started. In order to find pants that don't squish said fat out the top like a muffin I am forced to try on size tens, but then the rest of the pants don't fit, they sag in the butt and thighs. Not attractive. So what do I do? Saggy butt or muffin top? *sigh*
After five shopping trips, eight stores, and countless pairs of jeans I finally figured it out. The "mom jeans." The women on What Not To Wear always talk about their comfort. They just want to be comfortable. But I don't think that's really it. It's their bodies. They have changed and they no longer know how to dress their new shape. They gave up. Why not just put on a pair of pants that fit around the waist and are comfortable. Who wants to deal with their fat being squished while they run after their little ones? Not me. Standing in the dressing room, G's screams ringing in my ears, and a pile of rejected clothes that would have once looked good on me, I suddenly understood. I wanted to give up. That's it, I'm throwing in the towel. Where can I find myself a good pair of mom jeans? *sigh*
You'll be glad to know I didn't actually find myself a pair of mom jeans, but I certainly thought about it. Instead I chose the pants with the least offensive muffin top and a few flowy tops that cover the unpleasant lumps and maximize the desirable ones (eh hem). At this point I'm not ready to give up. perhaps someday, after a few more children I will, but this one little baby isn't going to change everything. Once upon a time I loved fashion. I had subscriptions to In Style and Vogue. I knew how to put an outfit together. Somehow over the last year I've lost that ability and with my new found body the task is even more challenging. Yes I spend much of my day in sweats, but I have resolved to try to look good if I leave the house. Yes I may have spit up on me, but by God the clothes are going to look good!
Friday, September 17, 2010
Things I've Learned
First and foremost, I suppose I've learned that maintaining a blog with an infant is difficult. This was much easier when he was gestating. Come to think of it, most things were easier... but blogging certainly was something that I had more time for, what with all that bed rest and whatnot. Oh well, my devoted readers will just have to bear with me. Maybe some day I'll get the hang of this.
Since G is taking a nap I figured I would do a quick blog listing the things I've learned over the last two months (that's right, G is over two months old!).
1. Soap Operas - I enjoy them. I used to watch Days of Our Lives when I was a kid and here and there as a teen and young adult. Steven Nichols (Patch) even had his picture in our fish tank as a child. Yep you read that right, in our fish tank. Well really it was taped to the back so you could see it through the front, but still. Now, with a baby that likes to eat all.the.freaking.time., I find myself stuck to the couch (again!) with nothing to do but watch t.v. and play on the computer. Suddenly I find myself wrapped up in the intricate lives of Sami, EJ and Rafe, and the crew from General Hospital. While I realize that these shows may make my brain rot out of my head, they're really quite perfect for my sleep deprived state of mind.
2. The Baby Bjorn - An excellent way to carry the baby through crowded spaces. Also an excellent way to ensure the spitup goes directly down your shirt into your bra.
3. Strollers - People are assholes. They think you're the asshole for daring to push your baby in a stroller, but really they're the assholes. (I'm talking to you, stupid woman who wouldn't help me open the door at Starbucks and then cut in front of me. YOU are an asshole.)
4. Vaccinations - Two month shots suck. I'm pretty sure the four month shots suck too, but we're not there yet. G did not like them, therefore I don't like them. That said, I am very glad we got them. Thank God for modern medicine and its ability to prevent/eradicate terrible diseases.
5. Spitup - It's gross. Especially when your baby has acid reflux and there are excess amounts of it. It smells. It looks like cottage cheese. Gross. That said, if I'm on my way out the door and he spits up all over me, I am not above simply grabbing a wipe, doing a quick once over and heading out the door. Sorry if I smell like sour milk. I have stuff to do! If I showered/changed every time he spit up on me I would never leave the house. Not to mention the laundry.
6. Laundry - Holy crap there's a lot of it!
7. Traveling - Be prepared to pack your entire house.
8. Smiles/Coos/Giggles - The best freaking things in the whole world!!
9. Bath time - Wonderful for everyone. G loves his bath time. We love giving him baths. Nothing like a giggly naked baby. Also Husband and I both enjoy our own respective bath times. Nothing like time alone to wash off the sour milk smell. You better believe I take the longest showers known to man. Curse at me for wasting the water if you want, but that is the only alone time I get.
10. Baby Whisperer/E.A.S.Y./CIO/etc. - WHATEVER! I'm sick of all your theories on how to best raise MY child! If I want to pick up my baby when he cries and nurse him to sleep then that's my choice. Everyone's so afraid that if you nurse your baby to sleep they will always need to be nursed to sleep. Well I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure I don't need to be nursed to sleep anymore! I did in fact grow out of it, as will my child. It's what works for us. It's what makes him a happy and well-adjusted baby. If putting your baby down, letting them cry, or whatever you choose to do works for you that's great, but seeing as how my baby is not a clone of yours, perhaps something different works for him.
I'm sure I've learned more than ten things, but that's about all I can come up with at this point. G-Man hasn't been sleeping well the last few nights, therefore neither have I. This makes it difficult to think. Hopefully by brain will restore itself soon and my blog will return to its former glory. Until then, I apologize for the lack of posts and entertainment.
Since G is taking a nap I figured I would do a quick blog listing the things I've learned over the last two months (that's right, G is over two months old!).
1. Soap Operas - I enjoy them. I used to watch Days of Our Lives when I was a kid and here and there as a teen and young adult. Steven Nichols (Patch) even had his picture in our fish tank as a child. Yep you read that right, in our fish tank. Well really it was taped to the back so you could see it through the front, but still. Now, with a baby that likes to eat all.the.freaking.time., I find myself stuck to the couch (again!) with nothing to do but watch t.v. and play on the computer. Suddenly I find myself wrapped up in the intricate lives of Sami, EJ and Rafe, and the crew from General Hospital. While I realize that these shows may make my brain rot out of my head, they're really quite perfect for my sleep deprived state of mind.
2. The Baby Bjorn - An excellent way to carry the baby through crowded spaces. Also an excellent way to ensure the spitup goes directly down your shirt into your bra.
3. Strollers - People are assholes. They think you're the asshole for daring to push your baby in a stroller, but really they're the assholes. (I'm talking to you, stupid woman who wouldn't help me open the door at Starbucks and then cut in front of me. YOU are an asshole.)
4. Vaccinations - Two month shots suck. I'm pretty sure the four month shots suck too, but we're not there yet. G did not like them, therefore I don't like them. That said, I am very glad we got them. Thank God for modern medicine and its ability to prevent/eradicate terrible diseases.
5. Spitup - It's gross. Especially when your baby has acid reflux and there are excess amounts of it. It smells. It looks like cottage cheese. Gross. That said, if I'm on my way out the door and he spits up all over me, I am not above simply grabbing a wipe, doing a quick once over and heading out the door. Sorry if I smell like sour milk. I have stuff to do! If I showered/changed every time he spit up on me I would never leave the house. Not to mention the laundry.
6. Laundry - Holy crap there's a lot of it!
7. Traveling - Be prepared to pack your entire house.
8. Smiles/Coos/Giggles - The best freaking things in the whole world!!
9. Bath time - Wonderful for everyone. G loves his bath time. We love giving him baths. Nothing like a giggly naked baby. Also Husband and I both enjoy our own respective bath times. Nothing like time alone to wash off the sour milk smell. You better believe I take the longest showers known to man. Curse at me for wasting the water if you want, but that is the only alone time I get.
10. Baby Whisperer/E.A.S.Y./CIO/etc. - WHATEVER! I'm sick of all your theories on how to best raise MY child! If I want to pick up my baby when he cries and nurse him to sleep then that's my choice. Everyone's so afraid that if you nurse your baby to sleep they will always need to be nursed to sleep. Well I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure I don't need to be nursed to sleep anymore! I did in fact grow out of it, as will my child. It's what works for us. It's what makes him a happy and well-adjusted baby. If putting your baby down, letting them cry, or whatever you choose to do works for you that's great, but seeing as how my baby is not a clone of yours, perhaps something different works for him.
I'm sure I've learned more than ten things, but that's about all I can come up with at this point. G-Man hasn't been sleeping well the last few nights, therefore neither have I. This makes it difficult to think. Hopefully by brain will restore itself soon and my blog will return to its former glory. Until then, I apologize for the lack of posts and entertainment.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The Witching Hour
I've been sucked in. For the last seven weeks I've been living in some sort of newborn abyss and although I don't think I'm anywhere near coming out of it I may have made some progress. For the last two nights in a row my little G-Man "slept through the night." Why the quotes? Get this, "sleeping through the night" according to the experts, means five consecutive hours of sleep. Hahahahaha! When I initially heard this theory in my breastfeeding class back in June, I will admit I was a bit scared. In what world is five hours of sleep enough?? Now, after seven weeks of waking up every one to three hours, five whole hours sounds glorious, like sleeping on a fluffy cloud in heaven. The first night it happened, he fell asleep and I actually woke up to nurse him at the three hour mark, but he was still asleep. Shocked, I checked to make sure he was still breathing (yes, I'm paranoid) and went back to sleep. A couple of hours later he finally woke up. Sadly, after that he woke up every hour until it was time to get up. But last night, last night was a much needed miracle.
Every evening around 6:00pm, my little guy turns into a bit of a fuss-pants. Other than being nursed and/or bounced around the house vigorously, not much else works to console him. This fussy period, also known as "the witching hour" in the baby world, lasts until 9:00 or 10:00 (sometimes 11:00 on a bad night) until he finally passes out and I am allowed to crawl into bed next to the already sleeping Husband. Last night was one of our bad nights. It started off ok. Husband came home and quickly ate his dinner (he stood in the kitchen and inhaled it) before heading off to his monthly Deacon's meeting at church. G-Man was surprisingly calm after a quick evening walk and fell asleep in my arms. Thinking that I perhaps lucked out and we would be skipping our witching hour, I put him down in his swing, turned on a movie, and poured myself a (small) glass of chilled white wine. Ahhh, time to relax!
*Grunt* Uh oh, the monster is stirring, if I don't move maybe it will go back to sleep. *Grunt Grunt* Shhhhhh! *Ehhhhhhh!!* No! This can't be happening! You're ok, you're sleeping, just keep sleeping!! *WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!* Crap. I knew it was too good to be true. Quickly I retrieved the screaming maniac from his swing and attempted to console him. All attempts were futile, he wants knows what he wants and he won't stop until he gets it. Having just finished the worlds smallest glass of wine, I know that I should wait to feed him. What can I do to distract him? Bouncy chair? Nope. Swing? No! Tummy time? EPIC FAIL! Bath? Yes! The warm water calmed the insane crying for all of two seconds and then it was back. Hysterical screaming and flailing around. I am clearly the worst mommy in the world. If he could nominate someone, at that point in time, I am positive it would be me. After an hour of torture (for both of us) I finally gave in and gave him what he wanted, the boob. Sadly, at that point he was so worked up he couldn't fully enjoy his meal. I gently placed him on the Boppy (breastfeeding pillow for those that don't know baby lingo) and got ready to feed him. This action alone normally soothes his hysteria. Not this time. He was so intent on screaming that he didn't even notice the meal right in front of him. At seven weeks my little guy is quite the professional breasfeeder. I don't usually have to help him latch on anymore, he just does it himself. This time, I was forced to grab his little head and guide his mouth toward me. He continued to scream, but also started making his hungry piggy noises. He began rooting around so frantically that he couldn't find the target. Instead he got a good poke in the eye with my nipple. Good thing it's soft.
Eventually we made contact and his latch was secure. Slowly my body started to release the tension and I began to think all was well. Ha! Moments later, G-Man inexplicably pulled off and began screaming again, he proceeded to spit up all over himself and me. We're talking soaked. After a quick cleanup we started the latching process all over again. Success, he was back on. Then disaster struck. I felt a small tickle in my nose. It gradually built and built until I couldn't contain it anymore. AAAHHHHCHOOOOO! Now, I've sneezed while breastfeeding before and G hasn't really minded, so I didn't think this time would be any different. This time, however, you would have thought I slammed his hand in the door or something. Directly after the sneeze his little body completely froze, then, as if in slow motion, he pulled his head away and looked at me in shock, as if he couldn't believe I would do something like that. Clearly I had startled him on purpose! Then his whole face just melted. Tears welled up in his eyes and the sobbing began. Again, worst mommy ever.
After some more time and effort, my little monster was calmed down and he went back to nursing. That's when the cluster feeding started. We nursed for thirty minutes, burped, cuddled, nursed again for thirty more minutes, burped, more nursing for forty-five minutes, more burping, then more nursing until finally at 11:30 he was asleep. After swaddling G and placing him into the co-sleeper, I dragged my half-dead body into bed, pulled up the covers and prayed for at least two hours of consecutive sleep. We didn't wake up until 4:30. That's right! Five whole hours of sleep!! We slept through the night!! Still sleepy, I resigned myself to waking up every hour after that like the night before. I nursed him and we fell asleep in the bed together. Before I knew it, it was 8:00am. What? How can this be? He only woke up once to feed. It's like a miracle! After the night we had, that was just what we both needed.
Every evening around 6:00pm, my little guy turns into a bit of a fuss-pants. Other than being nursed and/or bounced around the house vigorously, not much else works to console him. This fussy period, also known as "the witching hour" in the baby world, lasts until 9:00 or 10:00 (sometimes 11:00 on a bad night) until he finally passes out and I am allowed to crawl into bed next to the already sleeping Husband. Last night was one of our bad nights. It started off ok. Husband came home and quickly ate his dinner (he stood in the kitchen and inhaled it) before heading off to his monthly Deacon's meeting at church. G-Man was surprisingly calm after a quick evening walk and fell asleep in my arms. Thinking that I perhaps lucked out and we would be skipping our witching hour, I put him down in his swing, turned on a movie, and poured myself a (small) glass of chilled white wine. Ahhh, time to relax!
*Grunt* Uh oh, the monster is stirring, if I don't move maybe it will go back to sleep. *Grunt Grunt* Shhhhhh! *Ehhhhhhh!!* No! This can't be happening! You're ok, you're sleeping, just keep sleeping!! *WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!* Crap. I knew it was too good to be true. Quickly I retrieved the screaming maniac from his swing and attempted to console him. All attempts were futile, he wants knows what he wants and he won't stop until he gets it. Having just finished the worlds smallest glass of wine, I know that I should wait to feed him. What can I do to distract him? Bouncy chair? Nope. Swing? No! Tummy time? EPIC FAIL! Bath? Yes! The warm water calmed the insane crying for all of two seconds and then it was back. Hysterical screaming and flailing around. I am clearly the worst mommy in the world. If he could nominate someone, at that point in time, I am positive it would be me. After an hour of torture (for both of us) I finally gave in and gave him what he wanted, the boob. Sadly, at that point he was so worked up he couldn't fully enjoy his meal. I gently placed him on the Boppy (breastfeeding pillow for those that don't know baby lingo) and got ready to feed him. This action alone normally soothes his hysteria. Not this time. He was so intent on screaming that he didn't even notice the meal right in front of him. At seven weeks my little guy is quite the professional breasfeeder. I don't usually have to help him latch on anymore, he just does it himself. This time, I was forced to grab his little head and guide his mouth toward me. He continued to scream, but also started making his hungry piggy noises. He began rooting around so frantically that he couldn't find the target. Instead he got a good poke in the eye with my nipple. Good thing it's soft.
Eventually we made contact and his latch was secure. Slowly my body started to release the tension and I began to think all was well. Ha! Moments later, G-Man inexplicably pulled off and began screaming again, he proceeded to spit up all over himself and me. We're talking soaked. After a quick cleanup we started the latching process all over again. Success, he was back on. Then disaster struck. I felt a small tickle in my nose. It gradually built and built until I couldn't contain it anymore. AAAHHHHCHOOOOO! Now, I've sneezed while breastfeeding before and G hasn't really minded, so I didn't think this time would be any different. This time, however, you would have thought I slammed his hand in the door or something. Directly after the sneeze his little body completely froze, then, as if in slow motion, he pulled his head away and looked at me in shock, as if he couldn't believe I would do something like that. Clearly I had startled him on purpose! Then his whole face just melted. Tears welled up in his eyes and the sobbing began. Again, worst mommy ever.
After some more time and effort, my little monster was calmed down and he went back to nursing. That's when the cluster feeding started. We nursed for thirty minutes, burped, cuddled, nursed again for thirty more minutes, burped, more nursing for forty-five minutes, more burping, then more nursing until finally at 11:30 he was asleep. After swaddling G and placing him into the co-sleeper, I dragged my half-dead body into bed, pulled up the covers and prayed for at least two hours of consecutive sleep. We didn't wake up until 4:30. That's right! Five whole hours of sleep!! We slept through the night!! Still sleepy, I resigned myself to waking up every hour after that like the night before. I nursed him and we fell asleep in the bed together. Before I knew it, it was 8:00am. What? How can this be? He only woke up once to feed. It's like a miracle! After the night we had, that was just what we both needed.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Goodbye Dr. M.
*Note: This is being typed one-handed, please forgive the typos. I don't have much time these days to edit.
Today is an oddly sad day. I had my six week check-up with Dr. M. (one week early). Why would an appointment with my OBGYN be sad? Did something go wrong? Not at all. In fact, for once I had an uneventful appointment. After unsuccessfully trying to get G to sleep before leaving the house, I decided to leave a bit early to spend some time driving around downtown. Usually the gentle rocking of the car helps him drift off. After about twenty minutes I reluctantly pulled into the parking lot and gently took the car seat out of the car. G's eyes flickered open. Damn. Into the office we went. Usually if G is awake in his car seat and it isn't moving he protests, but this time he remained quiet as we sat and waited to be called back.
Eventually the little Russian nurse called me back to take my vitals. My weight is down, but not as much as I would like and my blood pressure is still all wonky (115/91). G slept through the vitals and we were ushered back to exam room number two. After asking a few question and being given a paper "gown" the little Russian nurse left G and me alone. I quickly disrobed from the waist down and sat on the exam table to wait. As if he could sense my vulnerable state G began to fuss. Quite the dilemma. Stay seated and possibly let G work himself into a hysterical fit or attempt to keep the nether regions covered while soothing the fussing baby. Obviously I went with option two. As carefully as possible I hopped off the table and bent down to rock G's seat and give him his pacifier. I carefully positioned myself so that the "gown" strategically covered the important parts.
Just as G started to calm down Dr. M. popped her head in. I'm sure it was quite the sight, a half naked woman covered in a paper sheet, squatting down on the floor and shooshing a baby. Oh well. G seemed quiet enough so I (discretely) hopped back on the exam table. For maybe the first time in three years I was able to tell Dr. M. that everything was fine. She did her exam and my stitches have all healed up. We discussed the dreaded birth control topic. She actually laughed and said "what do you think... should we try the mini-pill again?"
**For those that don't know, the last five years or so have been birth control hell. Because I have migraines with auras and occasionally high blood pressure I'm not allowed to take birth control with estrogen. That left me taking the mini-pill (progestin only) and because of my Endometriosis I had a lot of other issues (breakthrough bleeding, heavy and long periods, pain, blah blah blah).**
Ultimately we decided that would be the best way to go. She wrote me a prescription and told me congratulations and then that was it. We were done. I don't have to go back for another year. I have been seeing Dr M. for three years. For most women that would mean once a year plus the once a month appointments during pregnancy. I am not normal, we've established that right? Due to endometriosiis, a fibroid tumor and ovarian cysts I have spent a great deal of time with Dr. M over the last three years. I probably saw her every three months at least. Then with all my pregnancy complications I was seeing her almost every week. Now it's over. It's like a breakup with a good friend. Really, she's like a doctor version of Jennifer Garner. Friendly and funny, girl next door. everyone wants to be friends with her. What will I do with myself now that I'm normal?? Guess I'll just have to have another baby! ;)
Today is an oddly sad day. I had my six week check-up with Dr. M. (one week early). Why would an appointment with my OBGYN be sad? Did something go wrong? Not at all. In fact, for once I had an uneventful appointment. After unsuccessfully trying to get G to sleep before leaving the house, I decided to leave a bit early to spend some time driving around downtown. Usually the gentle rocking of the car helps him drift off. After about twenty minutes I reluctantly pulled into the parking lot and gently took the car seat out of the car. G's eyes flickered open. Damn. Into the office we went. Usually if G is awake in his car seat and it isn't moving he protests, but this time he remained quiet as we sat and waited to be called back.
Eventually the little Russian nurse called me back to take my vitals. My weight is down, but not as much as I would like and my blood pressure is still all wonky (115/91). G slept through the vitals and we were ushered back to exam room number two. After asking a few question and being given a paper "gown" the little Russian nurse left G and me alone. I quickly disrobed from the waist down and sat on the exam table to wait. As if he could sense my vulnerable state G began to fuss. Quite the dilemma. Stay seated and possibly let G work himself into a hysterical fit or attempt to keep the nether regions covered while soothing the fussing baby. Obviously I went with option two. As carefully as possible I hopped off the table and bent down to rock G's seat and give him his pacifier. I carefully positioned myself so that the "gown" strategically covered the important parts.
Just as G started to calm down Dr. M. popped her head in. I'm sure it was quite the sight, a half naked woman covered in a paper sheet, squatting down on the floor and shooshing a baby. Oh well. G seemed quiet enough so I (discretely) hopped back on the exam table. For maybe the first time in three years I was able to tell Dr. M. that everything was fine. She did her exam and my stitches have all healed up. We discussed the dreaded birth control topic. She actually laughed and said "what do you think... should we try the mini-pill again?"
**For those that don't know, the last five years or so have been birth control hell. Because I have migraines with auras and occasionally high blood pressure I'm not allowed to take birth control with estrogen. That left me taking the mini-pill (progestin only) and because of my Endometriosis I had a lot of other issues (breakthrough bleeding, heavy and long periods, pain, blah blah blah).**
Ultimately we decided that would be the best way to go. She wrote me a prescription and told me congratulations and then that was it. We were done. I don't have to go back for another year. I have been seeing Dr M. for three years. For most women that would mean once a year plus the once a month appointments during pregnancy. I am not normal, we've established that right? Due to endometriosiis, a fibroid tumor and ovarian cysts I have spent a great deal of time with Dr. M over the last three years. I probably saw her every three months at least. Then with all my pregnancy complications I was seeing her almost every week. Now it's over. It's like a breakup with a good friend. Really, she's like a doctor version of Jennifer Garner. Friendly and funny, girl next door. everyone wants to be friends with her. What will I do with myself now that I'm normal?? Guess I'll just have to have another baby! ;)
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
A Letter (Or A Day In The Life)
Dear G,
This morning (7:55am to be exact) was very different from the same time five weeks ago. Five weeks ago, with glaring overhead lights blazing down on us and nurses all around I held you in my arms for the first time. This morning, on your five week birthday, as you started making your morning grunting noises, I picked you up out of your co-sleeper and slipped you into bed with me. Husband (or Daddy as you like to call him) had already kissed us goodbye, the lights were off and we were both warm and sleepy. With your eyes still closed you suggested a morning snack and I complied. Together we drifted off on my new, soft, king size mattress. It was heavenly.
Sadly, I have a bit of a cold on your five week birthday. Last week your "Grammy from Miami" visited us and brought some airplane germs with her. Since I don't sleep anymore I suspect my immune system was lowered and now I have the sniffles. Don't worry though, we're not letting that get us down, at least not too much. After we woke up at 9:00am, I gave you a much needed diaper change and then you graciously let me go to the bathroom, eat cereal and make coffee (sometimes you have a hard time being away from Mama long enough to let her do those things). While I took care of my business you swung happily in your Little Lamb swing and gazed out the window. Just as my coffee finished brewing you began to fuss and like that we were back together again.
After your breakfast you decided to take a little nap in my arms. Sometimes I like to just hold you and feel you breathing. You are so small and soft. Sometimes when you sleep you smile and let out a little laugh. I wonder about your dreams... happily breastfeeding, maybe that silly glow worm we both love so much, or maybe it's Daddy making silly faces. While I love to watch you smile, sometime you frown and occasionally you even cry. Your little lower lip starts to pout and quiver, your face turns red and tears squeeze out of the corner of your eyes. Heartbreaking. My five week old having nightmares. Then there are the silent moments, you softly breathing in and out as I sit and take it all in. Sweetness.
After your milk induced nap, I decided to change your diaper. I carried you into your room and placed you on the changing table. Daddy forgot to put a new cover on the changing pad so the cold vinyl made your sleepy eyes pop wide open. Your diaper was oddly clean, but as I was changing you you spit up all over your outfit. In that moment, I turned my head away, leaving you diaper free, to search through the dresser drawers for a new outfit. It was a cold day so I wanted to make sure to get you something warm and cozy. Just as I turned my head back I saw it. A tall stream of pee. Like a fountain shooting up to the sky. With lightning speed my hand shot out, shielding your precious face from the downpour. You continued to stare up at me with your wide innocent eyes, completely unphased by the puddle of pee now underneath you. Bath time.
I stripped you down and brought you into the bathroom. Quickly, before we could have anymore accidents, I filled your little baby tub and plopped you into the warm water. You sat, content, as I soaped you up and scrubbed the pee out of your hair. After you were nice and clean I picked your little slippery self out of the tub and wrapped you up in your favorite duck towel. It has a little hood with a duck face on it. Adorable. Carrying you back to your room, once again I placed you on the (cleaned off) changing table. I quickly got you a new diaper and helped you into a warm little jumpsuit. We were ready for our midmorning snack.
You spent the rest of the day alternating between snacking and napping. Normally you wake up for at least an hour hear and there. We play with your rattle or we roll around on the floor while you practice lifting your head (it's hard work!). Today you seemed kind of tired though. Several times I held you in my arms and you just sat there with your eyes struggling to stay open. I hope you're not getting my cold. :( At one point you did start to get a little fussy so I carried you into your room. We sat on that comfy glider and as we rocked I sang you songs. Not full songs, just bits and pieces of whatever random song popped into my head. Fever, Summertime, I Want To Break Free, Capri, Kokomo. I really need to learns some lullabys. You didn't seem to mind though, you drifted off with a little smile on your face.
Now here we are. It's night time again. You are making little grunting noises as you sleep over in your swing. Daddy is finally home, but is doing work and I'm considering sneaking a shower in before you decide to have a late night snack. Tonight we will cuddle together, you will drift off to sleep and I will gently place your little swaddled self back in to the co-sleeper. We will do it all again tomorrow. I love you.
This morning (7:55am to be exact) was very different from the same time five weeks ago. Five weeks ago, with glaring overhead lights blazing down on us and nurses all around I held you in my arms for the first time. This morning, on your five week birthday, as you started making your morning grunting noises, I picked you up out of your co-sleeper and slipped you into bed with me. Husband (or Daddy as you like to call him) had already kissed us goodbye, the lights were off and we were both warm and sleepy. With your eyes still closed you suggested a morning snack and I complied. Together we drifted off on my new, soft, king size mattress. It was heavenly.
Sadly, I have a bit of a cold on your five week birthday. Last week your "Grammy from Miami" visited us and brought some airplane germs with her. Since I don't sleep anymore I suspect my immune system was lowered and now I have the sniffles. Don't worry though, we're not letting that get us down, at least not too much. After we woke up at 9:00am, I gave you a much needed diaper change and then you graciously let me go to the bathroom, eat cereal and make coffee (sometimes you have a hard time being away from Mama long enough to let her do those things). While I took care of my business you swung happily in your Little Lamb swing and gazed out the window. Just as my coffee finished brewing you began to fuss and like that we were back together again.
After your breakfast you decided to take a little nap in my arms. Sometimes I like to just hold you and feel you breathing. You are so small and soft. Sometimes when you sleep you smile and let out a little laugh. I wonder about your dreams... happily breastfeeding, maybe that silly glow worm we both love so much, or maybe it's Daddy making silly faces. While I love to watch you smile, sometime you frown and occasionally you even cry. Your little lower lip starts to pout and quiver, your face turns red and tears squeeze out of the corner of your eyes. Heartbreaking. My five week old having nightmares. Then there are the silent moments, you softly breathing in and out as I sit and take it all in. Sweetness.
After your milk induced nap, I decided to change your diaper. I carried you into your room and placed you on the changing table. Daddy forgot to put a new cover on the changing pad so the cold vinyl made your sleepy eyes pop wide open. Your diaper was oddly clean, but as I was changing you you spit up all over your outfit. In that moment, I turned my head away, leaving you diaper free, to search through the dresser drawers for a new outfit. It was a cold day so I wanted to make sure to get you something warm and cozy. Just as I turned my head back I saw it. A tall stream of pee. Like a fountain shooting up to the sky. With lightning speed my hand shot out, shielding your precious face from the downpour. You continued to stare up at me with your wide innocent eyes, completely unphased by the puddle of pee now underneath you. Bath time.
I stripped you down and brought you into the bathroom. Quickly, before we could have anymore accidents, I filled your little baby tub and plopped you into the warm water. You sat, content, as I soaped you up and scrubbed the pee out of your hair. After you were nice and clean I picked your little slippery self out of the tub and wrapped you up in your favorite duck towel. It has a little hood with a duck face on it. Adorable. Carrying you back to your room, once again I placed you on the (cleaned off) changing table. I quickly got you a new diaper and helped you into a warm little jumpsuit. We were ready for our midmorning snack.
You spent the rest of the day alternating between snacking and napping. Normally you wake up for at least an hour hear and there. We play with your rattle or we roll around on the floor while you practice lifting your head (it's hard work!). Today you seemed kind of tired though. Several times I held you in my arms and you just sat there with your eyes struggling to stay open. I hope you're not getting my cold. :( At one point you did start to get a little fussy so I carried you into your room. We sat on that comfy glider and as we rocked I sang you songs. Not full songs, just bits and pieces of whatever random song popped into my head. Fever, Summertime, I Want To Break Free, Capri, Kokomo. I really need to learns some lullabys. You didn't seem to mind though, you drifted off with a little smile on your face.
Now here we are. It's night time again. You are making little grunting noises as you sleep over in your swing. Daddy is finally home, but is doing work and I'm considering sneaking a shower in before you decide to have a late night snack. Tonight we will cuddle together, you will drift off to sleep and I will gently place your little swaddled self back in to the co-sleeper. We will do it all again tomorrow. I love you.
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