9 and a 1/2 months

Rob's first Father's Day and he totally kiboshed it (although he did let me know in advance he had no expectations). I kept it low key by just getting him a first Father's Day card and a recordable frame which featured a snippet of William laughing (originally from a video). In the frame I put a snapshot of the frame of that same video. My thinking was he'd take it to work and when he was missing William could surreptitiously push the play button and enjoy that memory (but as yet it has not happened).


We were supposed to go for brunch with friends but the timing with children didn't work out (Rhys and William are on very different schedules). : ) Naturally I thought I might make breakfast instead, which would be handily landing on Father's Day. Rob's response?

"I don't want bacon and eggs because it's dictated by Hallmark."

On one level that's hard to argue with. But I emotionally argued for it none the less. "It's the first Father's Day! It's a milestone!" I even cried.

But Rob says it's all commercial and he doesn't believe in it, even though the history of the day seems touching and sincere (according to Wikipedia). All I want is for William to make his Daddy a crappy ashtray even though he doesn't smoke (Rob did this for his Dad, only in their case Joe had quit a number of years earlier). Is that too much to ask? William doesn't yet know he's supposed to appreciate his parents. Whereas, I want a bloody parade every day of the week. I settle for one stinking day. : D

Can you imagine if kids still made ashtrays in school? There would be an uproar!

Anyway. So, I didn't make breakfast.

But we did go to the Calgary Comic Expo, which is always an experience.

We had William in a Batman onesie and jeans (so cute--I'll add pics later). He was all agog at the people, the costumes, the noise. At one point a Zombie flash mob (the link doesn't pick up the music much, it was quite loud) broke out in front of the Ghostbusters Movie car. There were even little kid zombies (all dancing to Thriller). I was trapped along with a few people by the sheer size of the dance and had no choice but to watch the whole thing.

I did make Rob an awesome burger for lunch, though. I'd picked up a couple of pre-made patties from Silver Sage Beef (organic and pre-seasoned). While those were on the BBQ, I was frying up some bacon and onions. No side dish, was too hungry and didn't have the time (at least I added tomato to mine).

William is now 17 lbs 14 oz. He's in a low percentile but has stayed on that curve since he was 3 months old. Hard to believe he's low when he looks so big and feels so heavy! Like all moms with babies, I hear it all: "He's so little! He's so big! He's so long! He looks older! Look at that hair!" Obviously my favourite is when people tell me how cute he is. : )



Does every baby hate Mommy's ministrations? When I try to clean his nose, face, hands, ears, clip nails, put on lotions, etc. he hates it. Do any babies like it? I want to meet them.

Eating solids are still a work in progress. I mentioned on FB how William went from Zero peas to TWO. It sounds so ridiculous my Mom doesn't understand what I'm talking about. I took a video of the first time he tried peas.

Now I dramatically pick up a pea, show William it's in my mouth and then ostentatiously chew and swallow it. Maybe he will then let me put one in his mouth which I end up pushing back in a few times.

What's working lately is me praising after ever bite or series of chewing and swallowing. I clap and cheer, "Way to go, William! Good job!" Although, I think I read somewhere you're not supposed to praise for feeding, the child needs to learn to eat! I have to resort to these measures. I keep wondering how the hell he's going to go to daycare if he won't take a bottle, can't have dairy, and hardly eats any solids. While I have 3 months yet, it's a major concern.

And I'm freaking out a little bit about the thought of daycare. Strangers will be spending more time with William than I will. That is disconcerting. Of course I want William to be independent and develop proper social skills, but I'm not keen on giving up my influence for 8 hours a day. A whole personality could develop without my influence.

And I was the one who said over and over, "From the moment a baby is born, it's your job as a parent to prepare that baby to go out into the world."

But he's only 1! That's too soon.

Yawn

I was going to ask, "what is it about new motherhood that makes you so beat?" Then I yawned.

Right, it's the sleep factor. Last night I tried the Baby Whisperer technique for inching William along to sleep longer overnight. Method: "Tank the Baby up"--feed him at 5, 7, then "dream feed" while the baby is sleeping (yeah, right) at 11. And watch him sleep (not literally).

Mmmm... Fed at 5 (ish), then 7 (ish), gave him a bath, we both went to bed at 8:30 and I set my alarm for 11:30. Didn't turn on any lights, and didn't unswaddle William as I attempted to "dream feed" him after my alarm went off. But then thought I smelled poo and changed him before putting him back down, thus waking him. Still, he went down again no problem at 12:30 (drum roll) annnnnd woke up around 5.

So, no go. I get that already. If I'd have let him sleep at 8:30 he'd have probably slept for 5 hours or more, so I lost out in this deal. Book says to keep trying, it could take up to a week. How does everyone else do this? Does the baby "organically" start sleeping nights? Like I say, I can get 5, 6 hours out of him now, it just might start at 8 or 9.

Yawn.

Of course, I also had an energy spurt when I awoke at 11:30, so I didn't go back to sleep right away. Imagine my dismay when I went to sleep at 2:30, only to be up 2 and 1/2 hours later. Let's see, 3 hours at 8:30 pm, 2 1/2 at 2:30 am, that's 5. I went back to bed at 7:30 am for 3 hours, but slept poorly as I was cold (despite being covered in tons of blankets).

I'm always doing the sleep math throughout the day wondering if I'm justified when I feel tired (like now). Like so tired I'd rather sleep then eat.

Screw it. I'm having a nap.

But I do love William to pieces, and he's still cute as hell. Despite of his recent growth spurt, I do not regret being a Mummy (though the sheer magnitude of it all can be quite overwhelming).

What a Difference

a couple of months make. Well, the first picture is from September 18, and the second October 30, but William is now 2 months old!

Back then William would fall asleep on my chest for some skin to skin Tummy Time. Now he's not a cuddler. Not sure if I've somehow reinforced such independence (if that's what I'm calling it), or if that's his emerging personality, but I keep trying to sneak in some cuddles only to be met with staunch arching away from Mummy as he prefers to look avidly around the room.

What I've lost in cuddling, William now makes up for with smiles during our breastfeeding sessions. I get a legion of open mouth smiles from my little man in between sides, so I take the opportunity to reiterate to William how much I adore him as I try to teach him that I'm "Mum, Ma, or Mummy" and that he is indeed William, and "Mummy loves you--Will, William."

Then, William used to stare silently at his wall of animals along the change table. Now, he laughs his little baby laugh when he locks eyes on the red bird, and punches his fist out at the Eeyore rattle to make it jingle (which I believe I taught him then, but he does very frequently now).



Both then and now William slept for 3-4 hour stints, though it's stretching longer and longer with 7 hours being the most he's slept at a time. Back then William fed for 45 minutes a side at the longest, and now it's 5-7 minutes a side with me always wondering if he's getting enough (despite seeing the regularity of poos and pees).

William's baby acne is what I agonized over then as I breastfed him, and now I look alarmingly at the dry patches of skin on his scalp and little bits on his face. Cradle cap was a notion in a book then, and now I use a special shampoo on William and a medicated cream that sometimes takes over "play time" after feeding. His "sad face" has graduated to full-on lower lip trembling "wah, wah" cries, which were heartbreaking then, nevermind now when he gets tired of me fussing over his skin and hair, or whatever else is bothering him.

Like all parents, Rob and I talk incessantly to William as we interact with him. It's been fun watching his baby vocabulary grow from gurgles to what we swear are words. I keep guessing what I think his first word will be (either, Hi, Hello or Okay), as those are most used by me, it seems. I swear he deliberately said "Hi" recently, as he breathed out the word while looking directly at me during what I now refer to as "face time" (a new activity category I created on the iPad Baby Connect application with the description: William is being adored by Mummy/Daddy).

William hardly lifted his body during Tummy Time back then, and now he gets enough height for us to actually take a video featuring his face. He also rolled from front to back just the other day! Then promptly spit up after much fan fare from Mummy congratulating him on his great achievement. : )

Of course I loved little William even then, but now he takes my breath away when he looks right through me with his smile, follows me with his eyes around the room, and when I close my eyes and feel his small body wiggle against me as Van Morrison or another favourite musician plays on in the background.

If I love William this much now, then how much more could I possibly love him later?

Waiting

According to our iPad application, Baby Connect, William's been sleeping for 2 hours, 45 minutes (and counting). It's 11:06pm. So, rather than try and go to sleep for 1/2 hour or so, I'm waiting for him to wake up so I can feed him and then we both can go back to bed. My goal will be to try and feed him lots to see if he'll sleep longer. My data from Baby Connect indicates I can expect anywhere from 3-4 hours of sleep from him once we all go down. I keep crossing my fingers for 5, but I'm not sure how long that will take to achieve.

I can not say enough about Baby Connect. It tracks everything! Colour of poos, activities, growth charts, graphs--in a word, awesome. We've raved about it to Amanda and Warren and recently they came across what I can only refer to as their "manual" charting created when Rhys was born (as we all know, you need to keep track of this shit--literally). These applications simply have the advantage with today's technology (plus it's ideal for Type A mothers, which I've been told I am). We've even taken it to the doctor's office to record height, weight, etc--so handy. Though the percentiles the doctor tells us do disagree with the iPad percentages, so good thing I don't have to just take the doctor's word for it. ; )

You may be asking yourself (because you follow this blog so closely), didn't she say the next blog was going to be on what she enjoyed about motherhood? Exactly, dear reader(s). Not only do I enjoy tracking all this stuff, but I enjoy analyzing it to manipulate behavior and influence results. Which is why I also enjoy the Baby Whisperer so much--the cause and effect relationship is fascinating to me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not in a lab coat spending hours pouring over the data, I'm just looking for trends and seeing where I can tweak things.

Though, I did read and re-read sections of the Baby Whisperer quite a bit to try and soak in the information to get us on a routine once William was born. Of course, if I didn't see results I'd have trashed the whole thing, but because of how well we're all adjusting, I'd say it's been well worth my effort. And I haven't been so crazed when things don't go according to plan, or go way off routine, that we can't adjust, but I'd say because we've had such a good routine we're all much more flexible when unavoidable things happen (and they do happen).

Case in point, our gas scare of last week. Situation: hot water pilot light went out early am (noticed when Mummy tried to warm a cloth to wipe William's red, teary eye which was beginning to look puffy, after a particularly challenging breastfeeding session). No hot water. Mummy starts to get agitated and calls Daddy (while William is starting to fuss). The clock is ticking down on home health care arriving, and I still have yet to make my own saline solution (rather than continue to buy it at $7.00 a bottle, only to thrown 3/4's away after 3 days because that's when it's "no good"--something I have yet to understand, but am unwilling to test on my gaping abdominal wound).

After calling Daddy, I then call my close friend who I know has had many hot water heating issues, and he tells me I'd be best to get someone in to relight it. Then I call my brother who asks me if I smell gas, at which point I go downstairs and declare, "YES, YES I DO."

"You've got to get out of the house!"

Now, in checking the ATCO gas website after the fact, it advises the same thing. However, Rob shows up just in that moment and I'm running up the stairs shouting to him, "I can smell gas! I can smell gas!" I grab the baby, a blanket, a coat and leave the house (still in my pajamas, of course). Meanwhile Rob is on the phone with ATCO, who is calmly telling him to simply ventilate the area. Mmmmm... Website says--don't use the phone, call from a neighbour's, and don't switch on any lights (among other things).

Rob tries to call me back down to the house as I'm sitting on a neighbour's stoop, cradling the baby (okay, and crying), and I will not budge. Home health care count down is less than 10 minutes ETA, which I have completely forgotten at this point, as I have images of the house blowing up with Rob in it.

He finally comes over to me and coaxes me back telling me all should be alright (based on ATCO call) just as the home health care woman shows up (I swear she must think Rob beats me). I can laugh about this now, but it's taken me a week to openly talk about it beyond that day.

ANYWAY, my point was supposed to be that William just took it all in stride. He was calm in my arms, though I had forgotten the soother "just in case", and when Rob took him back from me so I could get the incision treated, William just went back to sleep. No big deal. And the only thing worse than all of that (at the time), would have been if William would have been crying his head off during, or after, said "situation". But no, we've got a good little guy.

Is it the routine? His personality? Maybe a bit of both.

Either way, thank God there was no real issue (ATCO guy showed up with his gas sensing equipment and couldn't find a trace--aka hysterical new mother).

Where was I going with all of this? Mmmm...was supposed to be writing extensively on what I enjoyed about motherhood.

Well, there's plenty of time for that.

Here's a favourite baby pic! : D



And just like that William is stirring (really). At the 3 and a 1/2 hour sleep mark, no less.

Trapped

Feeling freaked out. 31 weeks pregnant, 9 weeks to go.

9 weeks.

Baby's room is still not done. And between things I need to do to prepare for that, and everything going on at work--I'm overwhelmed. I don't know what anyone else's countdown to mat leave is like, but I'm entering what will be a very busy period between training my replacement, training a new advisor, getting everything I can into some kind of succession plan documented, oh, and two fee deadlines in the next 9 weeks. Keeping in mind I'm only working for the next 6, and in the next 4, I start reduced work days (which is a blessing, but it's not like those shorter days will be easy or breezy).

Maybe I should think about what I have left to do for the baby. Not in any particular order: clear room for painting, set up room after painting, birth plan, hospital bag, sign up for EI, buy stuff for breastfeeding/nursing.

Ugh.

And I can't even drink to procrastinate (like, the odd evening--not at 8 in the morning). : )

I know every single mom to be goes through some of this, but it does not make me feel any better. Just putting it all down makes me feel anxious.

Last night Rob and I listened to a parenting podcast, The Parent Experiment which featured a guest John Salley. I don't know much about John Salley, but the program was on nutrition and how what you're eating, you're feeding your kids, and how everything they learn they learn from you as the parents. Not an earth shattering notion, but he's a vegan so he doesn't drink milk, or eat eggs, and it was just freaking me out thinking about all the things we put into our bodies that are really lousy for us and how I now have to think about raising a healthy little being, so I can't be as cavalier.

A point of contention between my mom and I is her health. I believe that considering I did not choose to come into this world, she as my mother is obligated to be healthy to stick around for as long as I need her. A parent's job never ends, so she should choose to be healthier because I'm going to need her help my whole life. My mom is not healthy, and certainly does not role model a healthy lifestyle or choices.

It's all just a little much and too much to think about!

There's isn't even any bad reality TV I can sink my head into, or a shopping spree I can lose time over (cause I don't know the sex of the baby!--whine, whine).

Deep breath out.

Some people's lives just seem easier. Of course I had to immediately remind myself that to some people, my life seems easier.

Sigh.

Meeting the Parents

It's Thanksgiving weekend and Rob's parents are in town. They are considering moving to Kelowna and decided to come check it out, along with visit us. Like any future daughter-in-law, I've been anxious about the impending visit. In reality, it's been rather pleasant. Now that I'm here to stay, there is a certain freedom in knowing I can just be myself; Rob has already chosen me--and no one else gets to weigh-in on that decision.

Is that an odd way to think about it?

I've been analyzing why I feel so relaxed, because the only thing stressing me out is watching Rob interact with his parents. What is great is I'm not yet part of the dynamic, so I get to stand outside their relationships and observe how they function. Which is fascinating.

Of course, what child doesn't at some time feel stressed out being around their parents? The parent/child dynamic at one point always regresses back to the initial relationship of parent teaching child, which usually includes what the parent perceives as the "right or wrong" way of doing something.

What some parents don't always understand is there are many "right" ways to accomplish things. I'm sure every child has a memory of an experience where they were doing something in front of their parents, trying to show them we knew what we were doing--which is what all children at one time or another strive to do--and the parent is instead trying to teach us the "correct" way. And what child doesn't want to feel proud they have met their parent's expectations? So, when the parent is not recognizing we learned what we were taught, how does that make us feel?

Having said all that, I realize I love my parents now more than ever. I finally understand they did the best they knew when they raised me. And I can clearly see how much Rob's parents love him. It's very obvious to me, but I recognize it being expressed in different ways. Which reminds me of how every child starts off the same way with every parent.

Typically there is joy when a baby is born, and the new family member is celebrated in many ways. Think of all the love you typically see new mothers showering upon their new babies.

At one point Rob's parents were that way with him, and at one point my parents were that way with me. What parent hasn't looked for every smile, until smiling became second nature (which some argue never happened for me), wished the baby laughed spontaneously, watched for first steps, listened for all the first words, and at some point didn't ooh and ahh over our cuteness? Seriously.

So, keeping that in mind, it's not as though parents ever fall out of love with their children. That's not how it works. And if you think of that when you're interacting with your parents, it reduces frustration. Now I understand this basic dynamic between my parents and I, and I don't take everything personally. My Dad instructs me how to do something "better", and it isn't about me doing it worse. After all, I'm the one who decides if it truly is "better" (and that's what being an adult is all about).

Even if I do it my Dad's way in front of him, I am still going to do it my way later. And my way may actually be better, because I learned how to make things better from my parents. Which is exactly what I'm going to teach my child.

: )