The calm phase

I think I can finally say that breastfeeding has reached a normal stage. Hooray! It only took about 3.5 months and a heck of a lot of pain and struggle, but we did it! I’ve been off the nifedipine for over a week now and while I still have some blanching of the nipples due to Raynaud’s, it’s not painful enough to do anything about it. I’ve stopped attending the weekly breastfeeding support group, and kind of miss it. I’ll probably drop in closer to the time I return to work to get some advice on pumping.
I am so very grateful to that hospital-sponsored group. It was a lifesaver to know that once per week, I could get some non-judgmental feedback, specific advice and support to continue on.

Now I can hold my baby as she suckles and focus on the increasing heft of her body, the brightness of her young eyes, the changing patterns of acne, eczema and scratches on her forehead, the softness of her cheeks and the precious movements of her little ivory hands. These are moments that I try to mentally photograph, videotape, put safely in storage.

Sleep seems to be going a little better. Though she still wakes up many times per night, I’ve gotten at least two three-hour chunks of sleep for the past two nights. Though it doesn’t seem like much, it makes a big difference.

We’ve got her sleeping in the swing, with the toy bar over her legs to secure her. She goes to sleep there and I return her there after the first few feedings. Somewhere around 5 a.m. she gets restless and I take her into bed with me to feed her while I lie on my side. Often we’ll both fall asleep for at least a little while.

This morning Mark came in to tell me he was leaving for work and that River was at the table eating breakfast. Willow lay against my chest. I looked down at her closed eyes and her softly rising chest, and realized we were sleeping in the exact same position. Both of us had both of our arms raised above our heads.

I know I have to get her out of our bed in order for us both to get better rest. But I must admit I do enjoy those first moments of gazing upon her in the mornings and enjoying her first smiles upon waking up and seeing me.

She's not me and she's not mine - repeat

Willow was born not looking like either of us, but over time, she’s come to look like me. River on the other hand, was Mark’s clone. With time, features from my father and grandfather appeared in him. I sometimes had the surreal sense of reraising my husband, or my father, but never myself. When I was pregnant the first time, I hoped for a girl, thinking I knew how to handle a girl, since I am one myself. But upon finding out a boy was coming, I soon realized the benefits. Boys are probably easier to handle as teenagers. But best of all, I’d be less likely to project myself onto a boy, and therefore we might avoid the conflict me and my mother had when I was growing up. So far, I think this is the case. I love River and feel exceptionally close to him. I enjoy sharing experiences with him and am excited when he likes things that I can do with him. However, I see him as a distinct person. His personality is a lot like mine, but his looks, and some of his interests are distinct. Now that Willow is starting to look a lot like me, I sometimes catch myself looking at her and seeing myself as a baby. So far, her mild temperament matches River’s and what my parents say mine was like. When I’m watching her kick, notice herself in the mirror, smile at the attention she receives, I wonder if what I’m seeing is what my parents saw in me. I wonder what I can do to make sure she is happy, healthy, feels secure and confident. I think about the parts of myself I’m not proud of, and wonder if my parents could have done things differently to change those. I wonder what I should do to set the best path for her, to establish the best relationship between us. I tend to think that if I do things differently, I can change the course of what was my life. This is dangerous. Her life is not my life. She is not me. She is not even mine – though I’ll enjoy her for the brief period in which I’m responsible for her. She’s an individual with her own characteristics, will and destiny. Hopefully she’ll show us some of those characteristics soon, so that I can appreciate her unique personality. I’m fearful of projecting myself too much onto a female child, of thinking that the thoughts and experiences I had at a certain age will be what she will be thinking and experiencing then. If she continues to look like me, this will be even more of a risk. It might have been easier if River resembled me and Willow looked like Mark. Do you fear projecting yourself onto your child and their experiences? Does it make a difference if they do or don’t look like you? How do you avoid doing it?

The calm phase

I think I can finally say that breastfeeding has reached a normal stage. Hooray! It only took about 3.5 months and a heck of a lot of pain and struggle, but we did it! I’ve been off the nifedipine for over a week now and while I still have some blanching of the nipples due to Raynaud’s, it’s not painful enough to do anything about it. I’ve stopped attending the weekly breastfeeding support group, and kind of miss it. I’ll probably drop in closer to the time I return to work to get some advice on pumping. I am so very grateful to that hospital-sponsored group. It was a lifesaver to know that once per week, I could get some non-judgmental feedback, specific advice and support to continue on. Now I can hold my baby as she suckles and focus on the increasing heft of her body, the brightness of her young eyes, the changing patterns of acne, eczema and scratches on her forehead, the softness of her cheeks and the precious movements of her little ivory hands. These are moments that I try to mentally photograph, videotape, put safely in storage. Sleep seems to be going a little better. Though she still wakes up many times per night, I’ve gotten at least two three-hour chunks of sleep for the past two nights. Though it doesn’t seem like much, it makes a big difference. We’ve got her sleeping in the swing, with the toy bar over her legs to secure her. She goes to sleep there and I return her there after the first few feedings. Somewhere around 5 a.m. she gets restless and I take her into bed with me to feed her while I lie on my side. Often we’ll both fall asleep for at least a little while. This morning Mark came in to tell me he was leaving for work and that River was at the table eating breakfast. Willow lay against my chest. I looked down at her closed eyes and her softly rising chest, and realized we were sleeping in the exact same position with Both of us had both of our arms raised above our heads. I know I have to get her out of our bed in order for us both to get better rest. But I must admit I do enjoy those first moments of gazing upon her in the mornings and enjoying her first smiles upon waking up and seeing me.

Switch to cloth diapers

Over the weekend, we made the switch from disposable to cloth diapers. At almost four-months, I feel like we’re tardy. I think we’d made the change by two months with River. But we received some free diapers I thought we may as well use. And I admit to a little reluctance. One because I’m tired and I’m hesitant to do anything that takes any more effort than necessary. Two, because the breastfeeding challenges in the first months sucked up all my free time. And finally, because the cloth diapers really swell the butt size. Trivial as that may sound, clothes fit better with a more proportionally-sized butt.

But when my friend told me how she’s using cloth wipes as well as diapers with her five-month old, I started to feel guilty. The thought of filling up the landfills really does concern me and we’re reaching a more balanced point where I can exert small amounts of additional effort for a good cause.

So I pulled out River’s cloth diapers (he just had his first completely dry night, so it’s a perfect time to switch!) and passed them along. The verdict on the reusability is:

BumGenius, velcro version. Fail. The diapers themselves held up well, but the Velcro closures can’t last through two children. At least for those who machine-dry, like we did. We had replaced some of the Velcro before, but even those are weak now. I’m too lazy to replace the Velcro yet again, so these will be passed along. I see they now offer a snap closure version. Go for that one.

Fuzzi-Bunz. Held up perfectly. We received a couple of new Fuzzi-Bunz that are even better, with adjustable elastic in the waist and leg to make for a perfect fit. The liners on the new version are velvety soft. These are winners.

Kushies. We inherited several of these on freecycle. They are Velcro closures, but are working well for us at the moment.

Motherease. Another snap-closure diaper, these are in perfect shape. Since we got the simple, non-leak-proof cotton version, we are waiting to put them to use until we begin elimination communication, in another 2-3 months.

We needed to get some more diapers to replace the BumGeniuses that didn’t last. I discovered a few inexpensive ways to pick up some cloth diapers.


1. Post a wanted ad on Craig’s List or other local want ads. I bought five diapers from two different people this way. One shipped them and the other dropped them off at my house.  

2. Post a wanted ad on freecyle. A nice person gave me about a dozen BumGeniuses.

3. Check out diaperswapper.com. This can be a time suck to figure out how it works, post enough to be allowed to sell, and get the diapers you want. But there are a lot of people buying and selling used cloth diapers there – probably the best online market I’ve seen for this commodity. A friend of mine said she got all her cloth diapers there.

4. Let friends know you are looking. We are borrowing four from my friend who told me about diaperswapper.

Girl on the move

Willow fell out of her swing last night. Yes, the moving swing placed on a hardwood floor. This time, when the wail pierced my earplugs, I knew right away I’d find her on the floor. Panic and guilt flooded my chest as I ran toward her, a pink swaddled screaming cocoon on the floor.

She calmed down immediately upon being offered the breast and doesn’t seem to be injured. But still, we feel horrible. I can’t imagine how frightening it must be to suddenly feel yourself falling, and hitting hard ground, when you can’t even move your limbs to block the fall. Mark came in and stroked her, then played with the swing to see if there was any other way we could use it.

Damn swing. Actually, it’s been a lifesaver so far, as it’s the easiest place to get her to sleep. But we bought it at a yard sale and the safety harness is missing a part, so it’s impossible to strap her in.

I tried keeping her in the bed with me last night, to shield her from another accident. I kept her there for 4.5 hours, until 5:30 a.m. I lost track of the number of times I was awakened during these hours as she nursed, fell asleep, wanted to nurse again, and again, and again. Some women seem to be able to nurse in their sleep. Not me. I wake up every time.

At 5:30 I was desperate. The swing has a toy bar that we haven’t used in the past. But it goes over the legs and has a space for each leg. So when the toy bar is on, it’s not possible to slide out the bottom as she had.

So I removed her legs from the swaddle, keeping her arms and chest swaddled, put her in the swing, and put the toy bar on, making sure the large knob went in between her legs. Now she could only get out by somehow pushing herself up to the top of the swing and over the side. We think propelling herself down while swaddled is pretty impressive, but up and over is probably beyond her abilities.

That worked, but it wasn’t long before she awoke for her next feeding. By 7:30 I was exhausted and asked Mark to switch with me. I put in earplugs and fell asleep in his bed for a luxurious two, uninterrupted, hours. Ahhh.

I recently left both of the kids at my gym’s childcare. The attendant held Willow and commented when I returned, “She’s mild-tempered, like River was when he was a baby. But she moves around a lot more.” Yes, that’s an understatement.

A little foray into the professional world

This weekend, Mark was nice enough to take the two kids and to allow me to attend a professional conference. Since I didn’t want him to use the frozen milk when I was still close to home, he carted the kids to a parking lot near the conference during the breaks and I darted out to breastfeed. That worked out pretty well. I learned a couple of things:

1. It’s a lot easier to limit the number of daily feedings when I’m just not around. I was gone from 8:45 to 4. Mark brought her to me for two feedings during that time, and she was OK. If I’d been home, she certainly would have received more than two feedings. So perhaps it’s better for me to be out of the house more often?

2. I don’t mind breastfeeding in public. At all. And breastfeeding around men doesn’t bother me either. But I’m not so comfortable breastfeeding in front of male professional colleagues who I know and am likely to have contact with in the future. I did it, but it wasn’t pleasant.

3. I’m still excited and invigorated by some of the topics discussed. And at times, I thought perhaps it would be worth it to leave my kids more often, to dedicate more time to work, and to travel. One female colleague with a 13-year-old daughter told me how she sometimes considers making a change from her current administrative position. “I tell my daughter that perhaps when she finishes school, I’ll go to Afghanistan. She says, ‘Why would you do that mom?’ and I tell her that before her, I had a different career and it involved travel!” I could hear wistfulness in her voice, that she missed the excitement and immediacy of international work. I do too. But I’m still in the process of trying to keep my international interests alive while also developing some domestically-oriented skills and interests that are a better fit for my family situation. It’s a constant work in progress.

4. While the topics interested me and I’d love to have some more time to read further, to research them, and perhaps write about some of them, I’m not anxious to get back to work. I’m starting to crave more intellectual stimulation, but I’m focused on self-directed things that can be done on my own schedule and in the paltry little chunks of time I have. In terms of answering to someone else, I’m glad to wait another three months.

5. It’s no fun getting dressed up when you are 30 pounds overweight.

No milestone timetables this time around

When River was born, I had What to Expect the First Year in a handy place. Every so often I’d take a look and see where he stood regarding the milestones expected for his age. On the rare occasions he was ahead, I cheered. When he was behind, I kept an eye on that skill appearing at some point.

I soon figured out that it doesn’t really matter when this stuff happens. I’m embarrassed to admit that I was really proud the day I went to mom and baby yoga and was able to show off that he could roll over. As in, who cares?

I also figured that a parent is probably going to think that their own child’s timeline is the right one for that kid. When the little girl River hung out with as a baby began to walk at nine months, I didn’t think she was a marvel, but instead thought her parents were going to have a rougher time taking her of her. When other little girls spoke earlier, more eloquently, I figured girls develop faster and River’s bilingualism would naturally slow him down. When other boys climbed and jumped and River didn’t, I was grateful that River never hurts himself and that we don’t have to keep a close eye on him. He was on the slow end of several developmental markers but I thought that was fine, because it was right for him.

So this time, I haven’t paid any attention. I don’t even know where my What to Expect book is.

The first time timelines were even brought to my attention was at a recent gathering. A mom of a six-month old was telling me that she can’t leave her baby alone with her older brothers because they will hurt her. So far River has not shown any negative feelings towards Willow. I leave them alone without concern.

“But you should watch out,” she said. “Something happens at around five months, when the baby starts to laugh and smile and get a lot of attention from people. Then they start to feel jealous and can take it out on her.”

“She does laugh and smile,” I said. “But so far that hasn’t changed anything.”

“No, it’s different in a few months,” she said. “You’ll see.”

A while later, Willow woke up from her nap in another room and I brought her out into the gathering. This woman saw Willow smile and laugh and get attention from people. She seemed shocked it was happening at three months.

“That’s really early!” she said. “That means that she’s going to be very verbal.”

Really? I had no idea. And honestly, didn’t really care. I’m glad she laughs and vocalizes because it’s endearing. She’s sleeping less at night than River, she’s vocalizing earlier, she’s moving earlier. But she’s no better or worse than he is. They are just individuals, on their own correct timelines.

I want sleep

Bad. Really bad. Enough that I’m starting to seriously consider letting Mark use the frozen milk one night – whatever it takes to let me sleep through the night.

But then I remember that if I go from 2 -6 feedings a night down to zero, my boobs are probably going to explode. I’d have to get up and pump anyway. Then I worry about screwing up my supply. One thing that’s been nice about giving Willow every single feeding of her life directly from the boob is that my supply seems to be right where she needs it.

But then again, sleep would be so nice. I feel like I did during my irresponsible college days, when I stayed up late too often and went through the day in a fog. I’m there, but I’m not. I would undoubtedly be a better parent, a better partner, a more contented person, if I had enough sleep to be fully mentally present. In that respect, it’s in my children’s interest, as well as my own, to make sure I get some sleep soon.

I know I’m building up unrealistically high expectations for this video that we’ll be watching in 13 days (whose counting?:)). But I’m hoping it will help us to ramp down the nighttime feedings. Getting it down to a maximum of one or two a night would be wonderful at this point.

In other sleep-related issues, we can’t figure out where to put Willow to sleep. In an attempt to remove her from the parental bed (1. to reduce nighttime wakings and feedings and 2. so mom and dad can sleep together again one of these days), we’ve been putting her in the swing in our room. That works, in terms of getting her to sleep, and I can handle the annoying rhythmic clicks. But she has started to propel herself, even when swaddled, so that she starts out vertical and ends up horizontal. We’re worried she’ll propel herself off the swing entirely. This may limit the lifespan of the swing, something we never had to worry about with River, as he laid there like a log until he reached the maximum weight limit. Lately, she starts out in the swing, then ends up in my bed.

The next thought was the bassinet. But Mark worries that the fabric-covered border around the bassinet reduces air flow in the same way a crib bumper does and is a likely cause of SIDS. So he doesn’t want her there.

We don’t want to set up the full-size crib in River’s room until we return from our big trip, and until she is sleeping better.

So what’s left is the carseat and our bed.

Should we try the carseat, since that is where she’ll most likely be sleeping when we travel? Any other ideas?

Our new conversationalist

Willow likes to chat with people these days. Kind of like this: It’s a good thing she does this, because it’s so darn charming I can almost forget about my lack of sleep.

sleep experiments

I tried two new things last night.

1. I kept Willow out of my bed, putting her back to sleep after each wakeup in her swing (which we moved into our room).

2. Each time she woke up, I unswaddled her, to encourage her to eat more before falling back asleep, then re-swaddled her before putting her down.

Did this help? No. She woke up at 11, 2:15, 4:15, 6:15 and 7:15. Since I went to bed at 10 and fed her for at least 20 minutes each wake-up, the only time I got a two-hour chunk of sleep was between 11:30 and 2.

In the same way I counted down to cutting her frenulum or getting her thrush medication, I am now counting down the days (17) until we can watch the sleep video, implement whatever they suggest, get positive results, and get more sleep. Right? I can only hope.

Music for babies?

I took Willow to a music class today. For a three month old? Yes, I also wonder about the utility. But it was a free class and I had nothing better to do. So I thought I might as well try it.

With River, we shied away from enrolling him in any classes. I was doubtful of the long-term impact they would have and I figured I’d rather save the money and allow him to take classes when he’s older and more able to clearly get something from them. Also, up until age 2 or 3 is the only time I have to control the language environment. During that time, I prefer to not expose my kids to any more English than is necessary. If such classes were available in Spanish, I would consider them. But not in English.

Willow did seem to enjoy the class though, as much as a three-month old can enjoy anything. She smiled, she seemed to listen to and to note the beats, she seemed to feel comfortable. But did she enjoy it any more than she would have enjoyed an hour of focused attention from me at home, or some songs on the radio? I don’t know.

Does the class really benefit kids when they are so young? Does it make neural connections that wouldn’t be formed otherwise, or does giving her plenty of varied sensory experiences do the same thing? If it doesn’t have an effect, I’d feel like a sucker for wasting the money. If it does have an effect, I’ll feel bad for denying her the opportunity.

I can definitely see how joining such a class could be in the parent’s interest. It’s more fun to get together with some people than it is to sit at home for an hour. It’s a good opportunity to meet people, to get out of the house, to see what is ahead developmentally in the next few months, to see how your baby is doing compared to others (Willow, in the 90th percentile for weight at her last appointment, was a chunker compared to the other 3-month old, in the 5th-10th percentile, there. The difference was stark).

I did meet one mother, the mom of the other 3-month old, who I really liked and hope I’ll run into her again. But in general, these classes tend to attract people who are really gung-ho about providing their kids with every possible thing and spending whatever it takes to do it. They also tend to be better put-together and more uber-organized than me. All of this makes me feel anxious.

I left the house with a stroller and my wallet, nothing else, not even a diaper. I was the only one there who didn’t bring a blanket (really, a blanket is needed?) but someone else had thought to pack two and let me borrow one. Another person had a noise machine in her bulging diaper bag.

I marveled at how several of them were able to fit into fashionable clothes, to put on makeup, to fix their hair, and to have their babies in coordinated outfits. I’m not there yet, and if I don’t go to a class like this, I don’t have to worry about not being there yet. Willow doesn’t care.

Hands

Willow is at the stage now where her hands are starting to function. She can spin the flowers, balls and smiley face on her bouncy seat, she can reach for dangling toys, she can open and close her fist on my finger.

Some of my favorite moments take place while she is nursing and her hands make some of their earliest movements. Yesterday she nursed with her arms wrapped around a breast as though she was hugging a bear. Her hands will touch a breast, lift up, slide back down, rest, fall onto my chest, a pattern of weight and lightness, of firm softness, of gentle innocence that is beautiful to experience. Even when her hands are slimy from spit up, from sweat, from her tongue licking them like ice cream, they are still a velvety soft ivory, tiny little appendages that will bring her so many experiences in life.

I love her hands.

I am so ready for some more sleep

It’s been well over three months since I have been able to go to bed without waking up two, three, four or more times during the night. Most of the time, I’m astounded that I’m able to function. I’m grateful that she’s always woken up just to eat, then goes back to sleep. But it’s been a long time now and I’m getting ready to see an end in sight (though I don’t see it yet).

For us, a very good night is two wakeups. Last night was not a good night. It was one of the nights in which I lose track of exactly how many times I fed her. I’d feed her, put her down, lay down myself, and pray she’d go to sleep so that I could keep my exhausted body supine. She’d fuss, I’d pick her up, feed her again, bent over in the dark and repeat.

Somewhere around 5:30 a.m., with both breasts emptied, she was sucking lightly as though on a pacifier. I was way too tired to be her pacifier. So although we have not used a pacifier yet, I decided to see if using one would allow me to sleep. So I went downstairs to try to find one. No luck. So instead, I ate cookies (yes, dumb move for someone carrying around 30-plus extra pounds) and checked email.

She still hadn’t settled, so I fed her again. Now I was starting to get angry. Angry as in – your needs win every time don’t they? Don’t you recognize that moms need some sleep too?

I was only angry, really angry, at River once as a baby. It was when I took him to Panama at six months old. Every time I put him back in his crib, he cried. I gave him a bottle of formula to try to fill him up and knock him out into sleep, but he sucked very slowly on the bottle, keeping me up another hour. I was living with a local family and there wasn’t anyone that could help me out in the night. So it felt overwhelming.

Babies don’t deserve anger and when I feel it, I know it’s a sign that I’ve reached my limit. I gave her one more shot at the breast and when she didn’t go down, I brought her to Mark.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I need some sleep.”

As I passed her over to him, she smiled, awake and cheery as mom was exhausted and frazzled.

I returned to bed with earplugs and enjoyed almost three hours of uninterrupted sleep.

My friend who went to Morocco for two weeks lost her milk supply, which reminds me that every choice has its consequences. But her five-month old also sleeps 10 hours straight.

I wonder how much of Willow’s frequent wakings are due to breastfeeding (I imagine there would be less if she was formula fed), to cosleeping (her being away from me would probably cause her to wake up less), to not being huge (bigger babies are able to go longer without a feeding), to not using a pacifier.

Last year around this time, a friend was struggling with similar issues. She got the Sleepy Planet DVD and said it was amazingly helpful. She mailed it to us, but said the methods can’t be used until the baby is at least 4 months old and weighs 14 pounds.

I don’t think we’ll have an issue with the weight. So I’m waiting until Willow’s four-month birthday (3 more weeks!), then will watch the video with Mark on that evening. I’m hoping it will be magical for us too. If so, I may only have a few more weeks of sleeplessness to go.

Highlights (good and bad) from a March weekend

Willow fell off the bed. I don’t think I can express the oh-my-god-how-could-I let this happen shock/guilt I feel in that sentence. I was sleeping on a twin bed while visiting Mark’s parents and she was on another twin bed just over a foot away. Mark’s mom had asked whether there was a risk of her falling off the bed and I said no. I placed her on the bed, tightly swaddled, horizontally, thinking if anything, she’d roll to the side. I couldn’t imagine that in her swaddle, she could jujitsu herself downward and off the edge.

She went to sleep at 8 and I went to bed at 10. I put in one earplug, hoping to reduce my reaction to little night noises (like, duh, a thunk which I did not hear). I did hear crying at midnight, so I reached over to grab her. And reached again. And once more, without feeling her. Tired and confused, I turned on the light and saw her on the floor. Luckily, I hadn’t stepped on her. Luckily, the floor was carpeted.

I picked her up quickly as my heart raced with desperate fear and guilt. What if something happened to her? How could I forgive myself? How could I tell if anything was wrong? What if she had a concussion?

The rest of the house was asleep, so there was no one to consult. She had a red mark on her forehead which has now turned into a bruise, but she stopped crying immediately upon being offered the breast and she nursed vigorously. So I could only hope all was OK.

Nevertheless, I held her tightly the rest of the night, which meant I received even less sleep than usual. Three months old and she’s already on the move.

**

During each of the two nights we spent at Mark’s parents’ place, I put Willow to bed, waited a half hour, then pumped. During that half hour, I had 30 minutes to myself to drink hot tea and to read. I have this at home too, but somehow the time was calmer and more concentrated there. I felt in the moment, enjoyed it and appreciated it.

A big part of it was the quiet. That silence, stillness, calm, peace, ability to concentrate brought to light how noisy our house is. It was beautiful. I mentioned it to Mark and he reminded me that yes, we live in a duplex and have neighbors that play loud rock music. Then we have other neighbors not too far away, traffic, a tenant or two in our house (which makes us conscious of the noise we make too). As I write this, I hear the annoying music playing on Willow’s swing and the creak as it moves back and forth.

In addition to physical silence, there was greater mental silence. I didn’t use the computer for over 48 hours. Being away from messages, news, sites and activities made me feel calmer and more able to focus on my thoughts. And of course, not being in my own house meant I wasn’t surrounded by reminders of things I could/should be doing.

Those were nice little bits of time and now I crave more – some chunks of quiet, concentrated peace.

**

It used to be a given that if we traveled by car at River’s naptime that he would go to sleep. Not this time. I tried limiting stimuli. I tried distracting him with magazines. We put on Barney music, thinking he’d be lulled to sleep. Finally, I bribed him, telling him that yes, he could have a third cookie if after finishing it he’d close his eyes and rest. No go.

I put in earplugs and told him I was resting. I closed my eyes (though I really wanted to read) and tried to model sleep, thinking he’s soon follow suit. No.

As we neared home and he’d continued to chatter for nearly three hours (why are you driving a car, why is it windy, why do we need gas), my patience was wearing thin.

“Please let me read,” I said to him.

“Please let me chat,” he responded in kind.

**

We’ve passed that exciting yet bittersweet moment of putting away the newborn clothes and bringing out the size 3 months. It’s when I have to recognize that my baby is growing, this time is slipping past me, I can’t keep her tiny in my arms. At the same time, I marvel that this big, strong, little girl has been made and nourished by me.

During the newborn phase we dressed her almost only in zip-up and snap up sacks and one-piece outfits – whatever was easiest for us was good for her. Now that we have a little more time, I can take the few extra moments to dress her in something that may go over the head, or have two or three matching pieces. She looks better in real-person clothes. It’s even more fun to hold her and to play with her.

**

I ran across a piece in FitPregnancy about the likelihood of losing car keys. According to the article, memory loss was still apparent into the third month after giving birth. In the third month myself, and still not feeling intellectually up to par, this felt reassuring.

**

I think I’m coming closer to breaking out of the cocoon of new motherhood. I want to get away for longer periods. I used to leave for up to two hours. Now I often leave for at least two hours. I want to be able to focus on something, to take a hike in the woods, to have a conversation, to read a book, without the timer of the next milking constantly ticking away.

Beyond the fourth trimester

We’ve made it through the fourth trimester and life really does feel distinct.

Willow has passed the extended fetus stage and is developing into more of a person. With smiles and laughs (extended, happy aaahhhhs) and a demonstrated interest in things, such as faces, lights, fans, computer screens, TVs, windows and little animals that hang from play mats or bouncy seats, she makes us feel liked and is beginning to reveal herself to us.

Breastfeeding is no longer painful and I’ve resumed a normal diet. I’m on medication for another two weeks and am crossing my fingers that everything will still be OK once I stop it. Day by day, the supply in the freezer grows. If I keep this up, I should have an adequate backup by the time I go back to work.

I am finally, finally, able to start being reasonable about diet and exercise. I’m walking 7500 steps a day and keeping my calories to 2,770. Yes, I recognize that 2,700 calories is not very low. But it’s currently lower than I would consume if I wasn’t tracking.

It’s increasingly feasible to handle both of the kids. I’ve been able to spend more quality time with River, which makes me feel better about our relationship and I think has reduced the whining. He likes to give me hugs and kisses and I treasure those.

I’m engaged in planning our month-long trip and am enjoying what research says is often the most rewarding part of a vacation – the anticipation.

Things are slowly returning to normal. However, I’m still having severely interrupted sleep. And my confidence level is low, both physically and intellectually. Physically, I’m fat. Not just post-partum heavy, but at the same weight I was around 35-36 weeks pregnant. Wide, flabby, pale and lacking strength, I still dress only in maternity clothes and feel like a dowdy middle-aged lady.

My intellectual confidence is also low. I struggle with Spanish and worry I can’t speak it well enough to keep River engaged. Too often, I come across words I don’t know, so I revert to a simpler way of saying it to River, or I don’t say it at all. I’m removed from current events, having spent the past few months in an insular focus on my family. And while I can handle small, discrete tasks, I’m starting to question my ability to think big, to connect the dots. Is it that I don’t have the time to focus long enough to get deep into a subject, or am I just losing intellectual capacity?

I take faith that I’ll improve physically as I increase exercise, take care with my diet, and eventually get off the medications. I’m hoping that my brain will start to work better with time too, as I gradually am able to get away for longer amounts of time and to focus on larger tasks. This is the price of having children, I tell myself, and looking into their faces during our happy moments, I think it is worth it.

an almost-spring, almost-normal weekend

Willow turned three months old. It felt like things got significantly easier at two months, and a bit more so at three. Hopefully this trend will continue. We remain in the happy afterglow of the news that our baby is healthy. Last night I took a walk with her and I pushed her in the carriage, staring at her face. All the little imperfections, like baby acne, diminished and she appeared to be perfect to me.

The sun came out, we shed our jackets, the birds chirped, flowers opened their petals and revealed their colors. The last sight of snow is gone and we are hopefully, finally, welcoming spring.

We visited an aquarium as part of a family class trip organized by River’s school. The trip was sponsored by a community organization and I think it’s a nice idea – provide transportation, admission and lunch to a fun and educational place, allowing kids access to something they might not be able to visit, and families the opportunity to spend quality time together. An excursion like that could easily cost $100 for a family of four, so it’s not an insignificant expense. Nonetheless, I’m sure our family wasn’t the one these people had in mind when they planned to sponsor a trip. It was a bit uncomfortable to be the recipient of a charitable venture. River is a member of the class, and was as entitled to go on the class trip as anyone else. Yet I found myself turning the diamonds on my engagement ring inward and trying to avoid mentioning that not only had River been to this aquarium several times before, but he has an annual membership. His class is not limited to low-income students. But it tends to attract them because of the financial aid available for those who can’t afford the modest cost, and because the amenities aren’t on the same level as more expensive programs. Also, the fact that it’s a dual-language program, targeted at kids whose first language is Spanish, results in most of the kids being Hispanic. I think it’s fantastic-- for the value, for the language, and for the opportunity to meet kids River probably wouldn’t have the opportunity to meet otherwise. But none of my friends have shown any interest in it.

Mark and I had a date night. We went out for dinner (with Willow), then went to a play. The play was almost three hours long, and I didn’t leave the (new) sitter with any milk for Willow. Luckily, she slept until we got home. If she hadn’t, we may have had trouble convincing this sitter to come back.

Some family time, some couple time - we're getting close to resuming normality.