In 2000-2001, my life changed dramatically. I took a year off school and got an internship in another state. In the process of leaving my life behind, I discovered a new life with a happier, better me.
In 2010-2011, my life changed dramatically. I got pregnant. I gave birth to a wonderful baby boy. I've redefined my normal once again, and while this new life is less indulgent and more structured, I've had the honor and privilege of creating a new life, and I am lucky enough that I can watch him grow up.
Between you and me, I'm a little scared about what 2020-2021 has in store for me. Luckily, I have a long time before I find out.
Everyone tells me about how fast time passes when you have a child. I understand it. The past eight months have gone by quickly. (Though I have to say that the first 8 weeks of those 8 months were among the longest of my life.) I think time is passing so quickly because we haven't had many fun adventures to break up the monotony of bottles, diapers, and naps.
I'm looking forward to going on adventures with E. I ask B all the time where we should take E for his first vacation. That we are even contemplating a vacation with him is a huge step. I don't see myself hopping into an airplane with E any time soon--I'm not that brave--but maybe we can do a long weekend somewhere this summer.
A lot of people really enjoy the baby phase, but I am really looking forward to E being more like a mini human and less like a baby. I want him to be able to eat the food that we're eating and tell us what he's thinking and offer opinions and engage with us in a way that his little brain just can't do now. But whenever I find myself wishing for him to be older and more self-sufficient and frankly, a little less in need of so much sleep (seriously...15-16+ hours/day is nice but inconvenient), I try to remind myself to sit back and enjoy his baby years because they'll be gone soon.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Putting an end to the suffering
When I suffered my second bout of mastitis just days after completing the antibiotics course for my first bout of mastitis, I decided it was time to re-evaluate the pumping situation.
I like the idea of providing E with the very best nutrition, but my pumping was distancing me from him and potentially interfering with my ability to care for him. When I pump, I cannot pick E up, feed him, or even bend over. When I'm home alone with him, I pump during his naps, but when I have mastitis, I have to stick to a more strict schedule, so I need someone else to be available to take care of him while I pump (and when I'm unable to get out of bed or pick him up).
My mother took care of E both times that I got mastitis. I'm so lucky that she was able and willing to do that, but not being able to take care of your own child is a daunting position to be in.
I decided that 7 1/2 months of pumping and 2 bouts of mastitis was enough. I had suffered enough. (A touch dramatic, perhaps, but I was in rough shape.)
I am now slowly, slowly, slowly reducing the time that I pump, with the goal of stopping pumping all together at some point in the near future.
I drop a minute from each pumping session every 3 or 4 days. B and I joke that I will still be pumping on the day of E's high school graduation. Ok, probably not, though it could be months before I'm able to stop completely. Going slowly is the key to avoiding another run-in with the big M, mastitis.
My weaning myself from the pump means that E now has to drink some formula. I thought that I would feel guilty after giving him his first bottle of formula, but interestingly, I did not feel guilty. I felt relieved. I was no longer solely responsible for producing his nutrition. And luckily for us, he is willing to drink formula, which he gets only at school for the time being. We still have enough breastmilk that he doesn't (yet) have to drink formula at home.
My pumping journey has been long and difficult, and it's not over yet, but I'm proud of myself for making it this far, and I am so looking forward to the day when I no longer have to pump.
I like the idea of providing E with the very best nutrition, but my pumping was distancing me from him and potentially interfering with my ability to care for him. When I pump, I cannot pick E up, feed him, or even bend over. When I'm home alone with him, I pump during his naps, but when I have mastitis, I have to stick to a more strict schedule, so I need someone else to be available to take care of him while I pump (and when I'm unable to get out of bed or pick him up).
My mother took care of E both times that I got mastitis. I'm so lucky that she was able and willing to do that, but not being able to take care of your own child is a daunting position to be in.
I decided that 7 1/2 months of pumping and 2 bouts of mastitis was enough. I had suffered enough. (A touch dramatic, perhaps, but I was in rough shape.)
I am now slowly, slowly, slowly reducing the time that I pump, with the goal of stopping pumping all together at some point in the near future.
I drop a minute from each pumping session every 3 or 4 days. B and I joke that I will still be pumping on the day of E's high school graduation. Ok, probably not, though it could be months before I'm able to stop completely. Going slowly is the key to avoiding another run-in with the big M, mastitis.
My weaning myself from the pump means that E now has to drink some formula. I thought that I would feel guilty after giving him his first bottle of formula, but interestingly, I did not feel guilty. I felt relieved. I was no longer solely responsible for producing his nutrition. And luckily for us, he is willing to drink formula, which he gets only at school for the time being. We still have enough breastmilk that he doesn't (yet) have to drink formula at home.
My pumping journey has been long and difficult, and it's not over yet, but I'm proud of myself for making it this far, and I am so looking forward to the day when I no longer have to pump.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
The most wonderful time of the year, or know thy limits
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. It was...Thanksgiving 2011.
I worried how E would handle Thanksgiving and Christmas this year. Mostly, I was concerned about his sleeping. Now I know that there are so many other things to worry about!
For Thanksgiving, we traveled during naptimes, and E slept reasonably well in the car - hooray! However, after a few hours of socializing and people and chatter and attention, the little guy was so wired, he couldn't fall asleep that night.
His normal bedtime (4:45 now, or 5 if I'm running late) came and went, and he was nowhere near ready for sleep, though not because he wasn't tired. He was exhausted, but the overtired state is complicated for babies. Babies have a lot of trouble falling asleep when they are overtired.
After much rocking, crying, and hand chewing, he eventually fell asleep around 7. We were both pooped.
Meanwhile, the extended day away from home combined with E's super-late (for him) bedtime messed with my pumping schedule. Thanksgiving night, I felt feverish and sore and decidedly unwell. By the next morning, a call to the doctor confirmed my fears - I had developed mastitis.
I haven't felt that bad since I had the flu. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. B had to delay his work day and my parents had to come up and watch E because I could barely get out of bed, let alone take care of a baby. I started on an antibiotic and round-the-clock Motrin and was starting to feel more like a human within a couple days. I just took my last antibiotic today and feel completely better.
We learned our limits. I now know not to push the time between pumping sessions. And we now know that 3 hours is too long for E to socialize.
I apologize now to everyone we'll be seeing for Christmas. We'll show up, but we won't be able to stay long. I hope by next year, we'll be able to resume more of our holiday activities.
I worried how E would handle Thanksgiving and Christmas this year. Mostly, I was concerned about his sleeping. Now I know that there are so many other things to worry about!
For Thanksgiving, we traveled during naptimes, and E slept reasonably well in the car - hooray! However, after a few hours of socializing and people and chatter and attention, the little guy was so wired, he couldn't fall asleep that night.
His normal bedtime (4:45 now, or 5 if I'm running late) came and went, and he was nowhere near ready for sleep, though not because he wasn't tired. He was exhausted, but the overtired state is complicated for babies. Babies have a lot of trouble falling asleep when they are overtired.
After much rocking, crying, and hand chewing, he eventually fell asleep around 7. We were both pooped.
Meanwhile, the extended day away from home combined with E's super-late (for him) bedtime messed with my pumping schedule. Thanksgiving night, I felt feverish and sore and decidedly unwell. By the next morning, a call to the doctor confirmed my fears - I had developed mastitis.
I haven't felt that bad since I had the flu. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. B had to delay his work day and my parents had to come up and watch E because I could barely get out of bed, let alone take care of a baby. I started on an antibiotic and round-the-clock Motrin and was starting to feel more like a human within a couple days. I just took my last antibiotic today and feel completely better.
We learned our limits. I now know not to push the time between pumping sessions. And we now know that 3 hours is too long for E to socialize.
I apologize now to everyone we'll be seeing for Christmas. We'll show up, but we won't be able to stay long. I hope by next year, we'll be able to resume more of our holiday activities.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
To procreate or not to procreate
This was the question I asked myself many times before B and I plunged into parenthood.
We (ok, I) deliberated long and hard for years and years about whether having a child was the right decision for me.
The difficulty with this decision is that you can easily identify the negative aspects involved in becoming a parent, but the positive aspects are more difficult to understand, particularly when you hear such wishy-washy wisdoms as "Your life will never been the same - for the better!" and "You don't understand your purpose on earth until you become a mother!"
So, let's start with what I knew. I knew that our lives would change. I knew I would get less sleep. I knew that vacations would be more difficult and that simple things that we took for granted, such as running out to the store, would no longer be as easy. I knew that our days of sleeping in and watching TV on a rainy afternoon would be over, for a while, anyway. I knew that my time would not really be my own anymore and that my priorities were going to shift dramatically.
I thought I was prepared for all the difficulties, but the truth is, you can't even begin to fathom the challenges until you experience them. Everything that you think will be hard is actually much harder than you expected. I've done my best to convey this information in previous postings, so I won't belabor the details again.
Because this post isn't going to be about how difficult it is to be a parent. I've written a lot about that, and for this post, I want to talk about the good stuff that comes when you become a parent. If you are on the fence about being a parent, you might benefit from my attempt at clarifying the wishy-washy wisdom.
Here is my clarification: In short, it feels good to be a parent. When you create an environment in which your child is happy and is thriving, you feel like a better person. You receive positive affirmation every time your child smiles at you or laughs because of something you did, whether you thought it was funny of not. In life, there are few opportunities to receive positive affirmation so many times in a single day. Imagine receiving 60 compliments in an hour? That's what it's like to take care of a smiling baby!
Every time your child reaches a milestone, from rolling over to sitting up to swallowing his first mouthful of mashed peas, you feel proud of yourself because the achievement happened under your love and care. Every time your child does something cute, you wish you could capture it in a little bubble and relive it over and over again, and again, you feel pride that your offspring has done something so memorable and wonderful. (On a side note, you sort of lose your mind regarding the awesomeness of your child's achievements and think that everything from a hiccup to a toe grab is the cutest thing ever, so you get to experience these moments all the time.)
Every time your child does something that reminds you of yourself, you receive more positive affirmation. After all, if there are two of you in the world doing the same thing, it must be a good idea! And when someone compliments your baby's cuteness or good behavior or skills, you feel as if the person is complimenting you.
When you sneak into your baby's room at night to watch him sleep (and perform your paranoid-mom is-he-still-breathing check), you feel wonder that you and your partner created the most perfect human being on earth, and you feel grateful that you have 18 years with him before he leaves and starts his own life away from you.
And part of you looks forward to that time, when you can sleep in again, vacation easily, shop when you want to, watch TV on a rainy day, and call your time your own. But part of you knows that no matter how difficult the 24/7 parenting days might be, you will miss them when they're gone, and so you try not to focus on the difficult parts and try to enjoy all the smiles and giggles and hugs.
We (ok, I) deliberated long and hard for years and years about whether having a child was the right decision for me.
The difficulty with this decision is that you can easily identify the negative aspects involved in becoming a parent, but the positive aspects are more difficult to understand, particularly when you hear such wishy-washy wisdoms as "Your life will never been the same - for the better!" and "You don't understand your purpose on earth until you become a mother!"
So, let's start with what I knew. I knew that our lives would change. I knew I would get less sleep. I knew that vacations would be more difficult and that simple things that we took for granted, such as running out to the store, would no longer be as easy. I knew that our days of sleeping in and watching TV on a rainy afternoon would be over, for a while, anyway. I knew that my time would not really be my own anymore and that my priorities were going to shift dramatically.
I thought I was prepared for all the difficulties, but the truth is, you can't even begin to fathom the challenges until you experience them. Everything that you think will be hard is actually much harder than you expected. I've done my best to convey this information in previous postings, so I won't belabor the details again.
Because this post isn't going to be about how difficult it is to be a parent. I've written a lot about that, and for this post, I want to talk about the good stuff that comes when you become a parent. If you are on the fence about being a parent, you might benefit from my attempt at clarifying the wishy-washy wisdom.
Here is my clarification: In short, it feels good to be a parent. When you create an environment in which your child is happy and is thriving, you feel like a better person. You receive positive affirmation every time your child smiles at you or laughs because of something you did, whether you thought it was funny of not. In life, there are few opportunities to receive positive affirmation so many times in a single day. Imagine receiving 60 compliments in an hour? That's what it's like to take care of a smiling baby!
Every time your child reaches a milestone, from rolling over to sitting up to swallowing his first mouthful of mashed peas, you feel proud of yourself because the achievement happened under your love and care. Every time your child does something cute, you wish you could capture it in a little bubble and relive it over and over again, and again, you feel pride that your offspring has done something so memorable and wonderful. (On a side note, you sort of lose your mind regarding the awesomeness of your child's achievements and think that everything from a hiccup to a toe grab is the cutest thing ever, so you get to experience these moments all the time.)
Every time your child does something that reminds you of yourself, you receive more positive affirmation. After all, if there are two of you in the world doing the same thing, it must be a good idea! And when someone compliments your baby's cuteness or good behavior or skills, you feel as if the person is complimenting you.
When you sneak into your baby's room at night to watch him sleep (and perform your paranoid-mom is-he-still-breathing check), you feel wonder that you and your partner created the most perfect human being on earth, and you feel grateful that you have 18 years with him before he leaves and starts his own life away from you.
And part of you looks forward to that time, when you can sleep in again, vacation easily, shop when you want to, watch TV on a rainy day, and call your time your own. But part of you knows that no matter how difficult the 24/7 parenting days might be, you will miss them when they're gone, and so you try not to focus on the difficult parts and try to enjoy all the smiles and giggles and hugs.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
You have the right to remain silent
B and I were discussing our significantly scaled-back social lifestyle recently and decided that having a baby is a little like being placed under house arrest.
Sure, sometimes we leave the house. On weekends, we usually take turns. One person goes to the grocery store, and another person gets the oil changed. (Or B goes to the grocery store and then gets the oil changed - whichever.)
When my parents are kind enough to babysit the little man on weekends, we both can leave the house together. Sometimes we even (gasp!) go to a restaurant. Usually we run errands. I know, I know--contain your envy.
Rarely do we both leave the house with E, as he usually falls asleep and then his naps for the rest of the day are thrown off.
Knowing that this lifestyle is somewhat self-inflicted makes it a little easier to tolerate. A few months ago, after reading several books about infant and child sleep, I chose to put E's naps first whenever possible. And so we do, but my goodness, it's difficult.
How do we cope with this huge lifestyle adjustment? First, we accept that it's how our lives are going now, but it's not how they will always go. We hope that by the time E is down to 1 nap per day (which usually happens between 12 and 15 months), we'll have a little more freedom.
Second, we buy as much as we can online. Amazon is my new best friend. I joined Amazon Mom, which is a free program that offers 2-day shipping on nearly everything. (It's amazing.)
And finally, we do our best to enjoy this time with E. Life with a new baby presents many challenges, but witnessing these early months and all his discoveries and firsts is pretty amazing. He gets more and more charming every day.
And some day, we will be able to take him out so he can show off this charm to the rest of the world.
Sure, sometimes we leave the house. On weekends, we usually take turns. One person goes to the grocery store, and another person gets the oil changed. (Or B goes to the grocery store and then gets the oil changed - whichever.)
When my parents are kind enough to babysit the little man on weekends, we both can leave the house together. Sometimes we even (gasp!) go to a restaurant. Usually we run errands. I know, I know--contain your envy.
Rarely do we both leave the house with E, as he usually falls asleep and then his naps for the rest of the day are thrown off.
Knowing that this lifestyle is somewhat self-inflicted makes it a little easier to tolerate. A few months ago, after reading several books about infant and child sleep, I chose to put E's naps first whenever possible. And so we do, but my goodness, it's difficult.
How do we cope with this huge lifestyle adjustment? First, we accept that it's how our lives are going now, but it's not how they will always go. We hope that by the time E is down to 1 nap per day (which usually happens between 12 and 15 months), we'll have a little more freedom.
Second, we buy as much as we can online. Amazon is my new best friend. I joined Amazon Mom, which is a free program that offers 2-day shipping on nearly everything. (It's amazing.)
And finally, we do our best to enjoy this time with E. Life with a new baby presents many challenges, but witnessing these early months and all his discoveries and firsts is pretty amazing. He gets more and more charming every day.
And some day, we will be able to take him out so he can show off this charm to the rest of the world.
Friday, November 4, 2011
A twenty-six moo salute
Today marks twenty-six weeks from E's birth. This occasion should be celebrated: I have achieved my pumping goal.
I have pumped at home, at other's homes, and in hotel rooms. I have pumped in parking lots, on highways, and by the side of the road. I have pumped at work.
I have pumped in the middle of the night and in the middle of the day. I have pumped while E napped, and I have pumped while trying to juggle a crying E. I have woken forty-five minutes early for the past 6 months so that I could pump. I have stayed up later than I wanted to so that I could pump.
I overcame the challenges that arose so that I could continue pumping. I pumped during an earthquake, a hurricane, and a snowstorm. I pumped during a 50-hour power outage. I pumped when I left my charging plug behind in a New York hotel room. I pumped after my first pump wore out and I had to get a replacement.
I pumped for hours a day, every day, for the sake of my baby, with the help, assistance, and encouragement of family and friends, and especially of B, who supported me in my goal, despite its numerous inconveniences.
So what now? I'll keep going, for a little while at least. I recently reduced my daily pumping sessions to 3 and consequently have to thaw some of the stockpiled supply to keep E fed each day. Probably by the end of the month, we'll start supplementing with formula. Eventually, I'll drop to 2 pumping sessions, and then 1, and then stop completely, whenever I decide that I've done as much as I want to, and we'll switch to 100% formula. By then, E will be eating more solids and won't be drinking quite as much as he is now.
To all my pumping sisters, both full- and part-timers, I raise my single, small, celebratory drink to you.
I have pumped at home, at other's homes, and in hotel rooms. I have pumped in parking lots, on highways, and by the side of the road. I have pumped at work.
I have pumped in the middle of the night and in the middle of the day. I have pumped while E napped, and I have pumped while trying to juggle a crying E. I have woken forty-five minutes early for the past 6 months so that I could pump. I have stayed up later than I wanted to so that I could pump.
I overcame the challenges that arose so that I could continue pumping. I pumped during an earthquake, a hurricane, and a snowstorm. I pumped during a 50-hour power outage. I pumped when I left my charging plug behind in a New York hotel room. I pumped after my first pump wore out and I had to get a replacement.
I pumped for hours a day, every day, for the sake of my baby, with the help, assistance, and encouragement of family and friends, and especially of B, who supported me in my goal, despite its numerous inconveniences.
So what now? I'll keep going, for a little while at least. I recently reduced my daily pumping sessions to 3 and consequently have to thaw some of the stockpiled supply to keep E fed each day. Probably by the end of the month, we'll start supplementing with formula. Eventually, I'll drop to 2 pumping sessions, and then 1, and then stop completely, whenever I decide that I've done as much as I want to, and we'll switch to 100% formula. By then, E will be eating more solids and won't be drinking quite as much as he is now.
To all my pumping sisters, both full- and part-timers, I raise my single, small, celebratory drink to you.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Phantom baby cry
Perhaps you've heard of phantom limb, a sensation in which an amputated limb seems still to be attached to your body. I've uncovered a similar phenomenon: phantom baby cry.
Phantom baby cry manifests itself in several ways. When you're sleeping and your baby starts and then stops crying, you continue to hear the crying in your head. Only when you look at the baby monitor and see that it is not lighting up like the Fourth of July do you realize that your baby has settled down and is no longer crying. Yet you continue to hear the crying in your head.
Phantom baby cry doesn't always begin with your own baby crying, though. Any sound that resembles your baby's cry, such as children playing outside, certain types of music, and even birds, can trigger it, and then you stare at the baby monitor, trying to figure out if your baby is in distress.
I first experienced phantom baby cry in the hospital after delivering E, and it interrupted my sleep then as much as it does now. I simply cannot return to sleep after experiencing phantom baby cry.
I am hopeful that phantom baby cry will fade, just as the baby-in-the-bed dreams have mostly gone away. In the early days, I woke several times per night to B patting, hugging, and jiggling a pillow, attempting to soothe it because he thought it was E. Other times, he'd wake in a panic, patting around the bed looking for E until I explained that he was in his crib. These moments were somewhat funny until I started having the same dreams, waking up and thinking that I had lost E in the bed.
Anyway, the baby-in-the-bed dreams mostly went away when E started sleeping in his own room, and I hope that when E's sleep becomes a little more predictable and less fraught with tears, phantom baby cry will go away.
Please let it go away...
Phantom baby cry manifests itself in several ways. When you're sleeping and your baby starts and then stops crying, you continue to hear the crying in your head. Only when you look at the baby monitor and see that it is not lighting up like the Fourth of July do you realize that your baby has settled down and is no longer crying. Yet you continue to hear the crying in your head.
Phantom baby cry doesn't always begin with your own baby crying, though. Any sound that resembles your baby's cry, such as children playing outside, certain types of music, and even birds, can trigger it, and then you stare at the baby monitor, trying to figure out if your baby is in distress.
I first experienced phantom baby cry in the hospital after delivering E, and it interrupted my sleep then as much as it does now. I simply cannot return to sleep after experiencing phantom baby cry.
I am hopeful that phantom baby cry will fade, just as the baby-in-the-bed dreams have mostly gone away. In the early days, I woke several times per night to B patting, hugging, and jiggling a pillow, attempting to soothe it because he thought it was E. Other times, he'd wake in a panic, patting around the bed looking for E until I explained that he was in his crib. These moments were somewhat funny until I started having the same dreams, waking up and thinking that I had lost E in the bed.
Anyway, the baby-in-the-bed dreams mostly went away when E started sleeping in his own room, and I hope that when E's sleep becomes a little more predictable and less fraught with tears, phantom baby cry will go away.
Please let it go away...
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