Someone please tell me that there is a common hormonal freakout that happens 8 months after giving birth (even if you stopped breastfeeding at 12 weeks). Please, tell me that. Because this all started about three weeks ago, when it would have been PMS, obviously, and I thought, "Oh, yeah, yuck, this is PMS, it'll pass." And it hasn't passed. Not even a little bit.
I feel anxious and low and despairing. I cannot shake it. Nora, mind you, is my total joy, and she lights up my face and heart constantly. But everything else in life? Everything else? I either can't reach through the haze to feel it, or it increases my malaise, or it overwhelms me (and thus, distresses me).
I don't know what's going on. Well, there's some family stuff going on, like there always is, but it hasn't affected me like this for a long time. Does Baby Bliss wear off? Is it seasonal affective disorder (spring is here - I'll feel better soon?). What?
It's to the point that I have no appetite, I feel nauseous half the time (no, I am not pregnant - it's that nervous stomach nausea I used to get). I want to cry. I want to hide.
I think I might desert this blog and start another one. This one was begun to record my journey through my first pregnancy, and I wanted it to continue as a journal of new mamahood, but I think I need something fresh and unlinked to Nora's World so that I can say what I want without linking it to the sweetness of my baby in any way. Something that isn't framed by motherhood, so that I can retrieve the other pieces of me and deliver them all together with the mama stuff. Because there's more to me than my mama-ness, and maybe if I re-anonymize (heh, that's a word!) myself, I can talk about it and circle back into the land of mama bloggers with a new face.
I don't know. I'll go drink my triple latte and try to get this damned freelance piece out of my head and to my editor.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Spring Ants in the Pants
It's spring. It's so very, very spring, and my baby is at home with her nonna while I sit here in my office with the big, tall windows looking over wildly blooming cherry trees and gleeful daffodils and the sky is blue for once and inside, all I feel is a buzzing urge to make something, write something, do something, make dinner with the first sweet, baby peas, fiddleheads, and sit on the cool porch, barefooted, baby in lap with her own sweet pea puree spooned into her baby-birdish mouth. Dig in the dirt, imagine a trip to Spain, beat the dust out of the rugs, clean baby's windows. Instead I email, schedule, meet, plan, facilitate, organize, "touch base," prioritize, manage, copypastespellchecksend.
I want the last 20 pregnancy pounds to vanish and my summery clothes to fit and my toes to be polished for flipflops and the godforsaken red "you have a voicemail" light to stop blinking on my phone.
Nora is growing ever-chubbier with the introduction of solids (apples, pears, and carrots all make her pucker, zucchini makes her gag, acorn squash, only, is gulped heartily and with giggles) and her fat elbow creases are on display in her shortsleeved onesies for the first time - first time fat, first time in short-sleeves, both. I want to inhale the smell of her drool-slathered fingers and show her how to stack blocks, new sitter-upper that she is.
I want to take a pottery class. I want to take a baby-mama swim class. I want to read a novel. I want to help baby manhandle her board books.
Spring is here. I'm antsy. A whole new mama kind of antsy.
I want the last 20 pregnancy pounds to vanish and my summery clothes to fit and my toes to be polished for flipflops and the godforsaken red "you have a voicemail" light to stop blinking on my phone.
Nora is growing ever-chubbier with the introduction of solids (apples, pears, and carrots all make her pucker, zucchini makes her gag, acorn squash, only, is gulped heartily and with giggles) and her fat elbow creases are on display in her shortsleeved onesies for the first time - first time fat, first time in short-sleeves, both. I want to inhale the smell of her drool-slathered fingers and show her how to stack blocks, new sitter-upper that she is.
I want to take a pottery class. I want to take a baby-mama swim class. I want to read a novel. I want to help baby manhandle her board books.
Spring is here. I'm antsy. A whole new mama kind of antsy.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Nora gets the boot.
First of all - hi! I've been resisting creating a google account, so things have a been a little inactive over here. Finally, I got it done! Thanks to anyone out there still reading this damn thing.
Second of all - Nora got fired. Got the boot. Kicked out. Reeeejected. That's right folks - "fabulous" (ahem) daycare lady just couldn't handle the Supreme Cuteness That is My Baby. Really, she couldn't handle babies, period. She's sticking to toddlers. When Nora wouldn't go down for "nap time" at the prescribed moment, and began crying in protest, and the toddlers only got 20 minutes of sleep ... it was all over. When DTB picked up Baby Boo, we were given the three week notice.
As if! I don't think Nora needs to spend a lot of time with someone who finds her to be "too much work." It's better all around. And I appreciate the three weeks notice, and accommodating a super part-time slot is hard, best wishes, blah blah blah.
But why do I feel so angry, like someone rejected my child?
Looking back, there were signs.
Whatevs.
On the hunt again, for the ever-elusive, super-part-time care.
Second of all - Nora got fired. Got the boot. Kicked out. Reeeejected. That's right folks - "fabulous" (ahem) daycare lady just couldn't handle the Supreme Cuteness That is My Baby. Really, she couldn't handle babies, period. She's sticking to toddlers. When Nora wouldn't go down for "nap time" at the prescribed moment, and began crying in protest, and the toddlers only got 20 minutes of sleep ... it was all over. When DTB picked up Baby Boo, we were given the three week notice.
As if! I don't think Nora needs to spend a lot of time with someone who finds her to be "too much work." It's better all around. And I appreciate the three weeks notice, and accommodating a super part-time slot is hard, best wishes, blah blah blah.
But why do I feel so angry, like someone rejected my child?
Looking back, there were signs.
Whatevs.
On the hunt again, for the ever-elusive, super-part-time care.
Monday, January 22, 2007
You Know You're a Mama When ...
... at the end of a long day, three hours after the baby went to bed, you find a binky.
In your cleavage.
In your cleavage.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
E-parenting
Just now, this minute, I received the following email from Nora's nanny, aka my mom:
"Hi,
Nora and I are back from our walk. It was quite brisk
out but it was a good thing for both of us.
So so cool............when we got back and I took her
out of her stroller I put her down on the blanket on
the floor. I layed her on her back and as I was
putting things away that little bug rolled from her
back to her front - she was looking all around and I
know she was surprised with herself.
She is napping now. Just went to sleep.
Mom"
My heart leapt! So exciting! Baby rolled over back to front! Hoorayyyy! She'd been working on that all week!! And then my heart sunk. I wasn't. There. To see it.
I know - it's the first of many small disappointments like this. So I'll focus really hard on how excited and amazed I am, and how Nora's whole perspective is about to change in a big way. Go, baby, go ... but not too fast, for mama's sake ...
"Hi,
Nora and I are back from our walk. It was quite brisk
out but it was a good thing for both of us.
So so cool............when we got back and I took her
out of her stroller I put her down on the blanket on
the floor. I layed her on her back and as I was
putting things away that little bug rolled from her
back to her front - she was looking all around and I
know she was surprised with herself.
She is napping now. Just went to sleep.
Mom"
My heart leapt! So exciting! Baby rolled over back to front! Hoorayyyy! She'd been working on that all week!! And then my heart sunk. I wasn't. There. To see it.
I know - it's the first of many small disappointments like this. So I'll focus really hard on how excited and amazed I am, and how Nora's whole perspective is about to change in a big way. Go, baby, go ... but not too fast, for mama's sake ...
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Things to Remember - 18 weeks
- Suddenly, Nora can grab onto things and hold on really tight. Changing her clothes is a whole new challenge, all of sudden. She grabs the inside of her sleeves, and I have to pry her fingers loose to get her arms through.
-Along with the above - Nora is now arching her back into a deep C, turning onto her side, and craning her neck to peer someplace above the top of her head. So, so close to rolling back to front. The determined wiggling makes her into a slippery trout, especially at 4am, when she is most gleeful.
-But, she only wakes up at 4 or 5am. She goes down at 7:00, almost to the minute, and just has that one early morning wakeup call. I can sometimes actually hear her stomach growling when she starts to stir, so no wonder. She starts babbling, maybe a few frustrated wails if i wait too long. Change her, try not to start giggling and chattering at her (in the hopes of keeping sort of someplace near a sleep zone), feed her, and she's back out.
- She has lately taken to sleeping with one hand holding tightly to a vertical rail of her bassinet. I find this completely hilarious. On her back, out cold, one arm stretched straight out, and those little fingers gripping the bar.
-Then she wakes up again at 7ish. Usually shrieking and giggling with total joy at being alive. Sticking her tiny, chubby legs into the air and rolling around. God, it kills me every time. She never wakes up crying. I am so lucky.
- Every couple of a days, a brand new noise bursts out of her mouth. It always surprises me and totally enthralls me. This week, it's a more deep-throated "HOO! HOO!" and a look of fierce determination when she sees something new or exciting, like the window above the fireplace (through which you can see waving branches against the sky).
- She got a fever of 102 the day after her four month vaccines. It was awful watching that. She was just lying there, staring. Thank god for Tylenol - at least I felt like I was doing something.
- It's getting really hard to know what to do with her at this stage. She isn't sitting, she's frustrated by the bouncy seat, she wants to move. But she can't, and the grabby toys only hold her attention for so long, and even though I can babble at her for a long, long time, even I reach my limits. Soon enough, she'll take off and it will be a whole new world (one that I am both so excited for, and a little terrified of). But right now - tough! I worry a lot that I'm missing some critical type of stimulation I should be giving her.
-Last week, she suddenly had just enough hair on top that I could make a little Kewpie spike. I was somehow deeply amused and joy-jumpy that I could do something with her hair. How silly.
- I am, interestingly, thrilled and a little braggy about the fact that she's apparently going to keep those deep blue eyes. No one in my family has blue eyes. It means I have a sneaky recessive blue eye gene in there. Kinda cool. And really, her eyes are so beautiful and indigo ...
- I have been feeling my first blushes of mama pride. Over things like how good natured she was about learning to drink down her liquid Zantac.In peppermint flavor. How dumb! Who on earth decided it was a good idea to flavor something for infants with peppermint?! The expression on her face that first time ... oy. But now, she takes it down and looks me square in the eye while doing so, and I swear, she can tell how concerned and proud I am.
That's enough rambling for now, on this almost-deserted mama blog. It's just been so crazy and wonderful. And fast. And humbling.
ps: Coming to work is getting a tiny bit easier for some reason. Probably because it doesn't seem like she's suffering from my absence. But still - the guilt!
-Along with the above - Nora is now arching her back into a deep C, turning onto her side, and craning her neck to peer someplace above the top of her head. So, so close to rolling back to front. The determined wiggling makes her into a slippery trout, especially at 4am, when she is most gleeful.
-But, she only wakes up at 4 or 5am. She goes down at 7:00, almost to the minute, and just has that one early morning wakeup call. I can sometimes actually hear her stomach growling when she starts to stir, so no wonder. She starts babbling, maybe a few frustrated wails if i wait too long. Change her, try not to start giggling and chattering at her (in the hopes of keeping sort of someplace near a sleep zone), feed her, and she's back out.
- She has lately taken to sleeping with one hand holding tightly to a vertical rail of her bassinet. I find this completely hilarious. On her back, out cold, one arm stretched straight out, and those little fingers gripping the bar.
-Then she wakes up again at 7ish. Usually shrieking and giggling with total joy at being alive. Sticking her tiny, chubby legs into the air and rolling around. God, it kills me every time. She never wakes up crying. I am so lucky.
- Every couple of a days, a brand new noise bursts out of her mouth. It always surprises me and totally enthralls me. This week, it's a more deep-throated "HOO! HOO!" and a look of fierce determination when she sees something new or exciting, like the window above the fireplace (through which you can see waving branches against the sky).
- She got a fever of 102 the day after her four month vaccines. It was awful watching that. She was just lying there, staring. Thank god for Tylenol - at least I felt like I was doing something.
- It's getting really hard to know what to do with her at this stage. She isn't sitting, she's frustrated by the bouncy seat, she wants to move. But she can't, and the grabby toys only hold her attention for so long, and even though I can babble at her for a long, long time, even I reach my limits. Soon enough, she'll take off and it will be a whole new world (one that I am both so excited for, and a little terrified of). But right now - tough! I worry a lot that I'm missing some critical type of stimulation I should be giving her.
-Last week, she suddenly had just enough hair on top that I could make a little Kewpie spike. I was somehow deeply amused and joy-jumpy that I could do something with her hair. How silly.
- I am, interestingly, thrilled and a little braggy about the fact that she's apparently going to keep those deep blue eyes. No one in my family has blue eyes. It means I have a sneaky recessive blue eye gene in there. Kinda cool. And really, her eyes are so beautiful and indigo ...
- I have been feeling my first blushes of mama pride. Over things like how good natured she was about learning to drink down her liquid Zantac.In peppermint flavor. How dumb! Who on earth decided it was a good idea to flavor something for infants with peppermint?! The expression on her face that first time ... oy. But now, she takes it down and looks me square in the eye while doing so, and I swear, she can tell how concerned and proud I am.
That's enough rambling for now, on this almost-deserted mama blog. It's just been so crazy and wonderful. And fast. And humbling.
ps: Coming to work is getting a tiny bit easier for some reason. Probably because it doesn't seem like she's suffering from my absence. But still - the guilt!
Monday, December 04, 2006
Unexpected
So many surprises, since Nora arrived in my life.
The biggest one, lately, being that I care not a whit about my professional life anymore. That is to say - my heart isn't in it. I want to be home. I want to be with Baby Love. I want that to be my daily work. I never thought I'd feel this way - I though I'd be relieved to have an office to escape to, eager for the adult interaction, fulfilled by feeding my titled-and-salaried self with this position I've worked toward for, well, forever. My work is not only the culmination of three previous, progresssively more responsible and expert positions. I can actually track it back farther than that - I was doing this writerly, editorial, creative publication type work in kindergarten, when I made books out of colorful felt and notepaper and sold them to my grandparents.
My resume is in really good shape. (Well, barring the fact that I once thought I'd be a fancy advertising writer or magazine editor in New York ... my work now isn't nearly that glamorous, but, you know.) My salary is the only reason we could buy a house, a house that I love, in a neighborhood that I love. I look around the rooms sometimes, and I feel breathless at the idea that I actually live in them. It isn't fancy or big, it's 90 years old and has terribly creaky floors and all the windows are painted shut, but it's mine and it has cute built-in cabinets and a big front porch and it feels like home. Especially now that Baby lives in it with us. It's the warmest, coziest, happiest time in my life, right now. I never expected this.
And that's the conundrum. I want to wake up early, to look at Baby's bright little eyes peering at me from the bedside bassinet, and stretch my arms in the rumply sheets, and put on the kettle for tea, and throw in a load of laundry while the oatmeal simmers, and snuggle Baby's neck against my nose, put her clean, small clothes on the shelves, slide her into her bouncy seat and turn on the sewing machine for a few quick whirs on the latest project, put her down for a nap while I sweep the crumbs from the kitchen floor, warm her bottle, give her "second breakfast" when she wakes, bundle her into the stroller for a walk to the market for the ingredients to make a bubbly pot of soup for when husband gets home, balance the checkbook, bounce the fussy baby, and so on and son on ... tending and nurturing all the little corners of our life ... holy sweet jesus, I really never, ever expected to be tormented by visions of domestic work. Hard work, I know. Sometimes repetitive and frustrating work, yes. But so is my office job. And at home, I'd be taking care of the true loves of my life, and know that I am really building the things that matter, and that will last. Solid, warm, certain, loved citizens of the world.
And then I read a couple of mama blogs (like this one or this one) wherein they've made it possible for themselves to be Mamas at Home ... and I want to cry with jealousy.
And I have it pretty easy, so far. I can see Baby every day at lunch. Work isn't demanding extra time from me. I have Fridays at home. I know that eventually I'll be really glad that I kept my retirement plan and my salary and my up-to-date professional qualifications. I know that my work away from the house is providing critical components of our lives, and Baby's future security. Being a breadwinner is so, so important. But I just can't deny this bursting desire to be back in my nest, every day. It's getting harder, instead of easier, to leave her every morning.
Will it get easier?
The biggest one, lately, being that I care not a whit about my professional life anymore. That is to say - my heart isn't in it. I want to be home. I want to be with Baby Love. I want that to be my daily work. I never thought I'd feel this way - I though I'd be relieved to have an office to escape to, eager for the adult interaction, fulfilled by feeding my titled-and-salaried self with this position I've worked toward for, well, forever. My work is not only the culmination of three previous, progresssively more responsible and expert positions. I can actually track it back farther than that - I was doing this writerly, editorial, creative publication type work in kindergarten, when I made books out of colorful felt and notepaper and sold them to my grandparents.
My resume is in really good shape. (Well, barring the fact that I once thought I'd be a fancy advertising writer or magazine editor in New York ... my work now isn't nearly that glamorous, but, you know.) My salary is the only reason we could buy a house, a house that I love, in a neighborhood that I love. I look around the rooms sometimes, and I feel breathless at the idea that I actually live in them. It isn't fancy or big, it's 90 years old and has terribly creaky floors and all the windows are painted shut, but it's mine and it has cute built-in cabinets and a big front porch and it feels like home. Especially now that Baby lives in it with us. It's the warmest, coziest, happiest time in my life, right now. I never expected this.
And that's the conundrum. I want to wake up early, to look at Baby's bright little eyes peering at me from the bedside bassinet, and stretch my arms in the rumply sheets, and put on the kettle for tea, and throw in a load of laundry while the oatmeal simmers, and snuggle Baby's neck against my nose, put her clean, small clothes on the shelves, slide her into her bouncy seat and turn on the sewing machine for a few quick whirs on the latest project, put her down for a nap while I sweep the crumbs from the kitchen floor, warm her bottle, give her "second breakfast" when she wakes, bundle her into the stroller for a walk to the market for the ingredients to make a bubbly pot of soup for when husband gets home, balance the checkbook, bounce the fussy baby, and so on and son on ... tending and nurturing all the little corners of our life ... holy sweet jesus, I really never, ever expected to be tormented by visions of domestic work. Hard work, I know. Sometimes repetitive and frustrating work, yes. But so is my office job. And at home, I'd be taking care of the true loves of my life, and know that I am really building the things that matter, and that will last. Solid, warm, certain, loved citizens of the world.
And then I read a couple of mama blogs (like this one or this one) wherein they've made it possible for themselves to be Mamas at Home ... and I want to cry with jealousy.
And I have it pretty easy, so far. I can see Baby every day at lunch. Work isn't demanding extra time from me. I have Fridays at home. I know that eventually I'll be really glad that I kept my retirement plan and my salary and my up-to-date professional qualifications. I know that my work away from the house is providing critical components of our lives, and Baby's future security. Being a breadwinner is so, so important. But I just can't deny this bursting desire to be back in my nest, every day. It's getting harder, instead of easier, to leave her every morning.
Will it get easier?
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Knocking on wood ...
Funny how being a mama means worrying (or wondering, at least) over not just the troublesome moments, but also the most fabulous, lucky incidents with your babe ...
... which is why I found myself pondering whether a baby can get too much consecutive sleep. Nora, for the second night in a row, slept for 11 hours straight. With nary a peep nor a rustle. And then she stirred a bit, just as the earliest morning light crept into the sky, and hung out in her bassinet for another hour cooing to herself while I got her bottles ready, cleaned the kitchen, and wrote three thank you notes forcryingoutloud.
I found myself thinking - was she too warm and therefore near comatose? Will she never ever take a daytime nap and become cranky and inconsolable (again - like yesterday - poor Nonna)** due to constant stimulation? Is she getting enough calories (the ultimate concern with Nora Bean)? Is she freakishly early in her sleep development because of some melatonin imbalance?
And of course, there is the undercurrent of wincing anticipation that she'll make up for it by refusing to sleep for more than an hour, or something, next week.
So I knock on wood, and try not to say anything about it to the other new parents at work, who are stumbling around with little satchels under their eyes. I want to prattle on about it with beaming eyes, but oh how annoying I would be. Surely, I'd be run out of town by a torch- and pitchfork-bearing mob.
Knock on wood.
I love you, Nora. I can't begin to describe how purposeful and happy I felt puttering around the kitchen as the sun came up. Everything I do these days, from going to work to sweeping the kitchen floor, feels meaningful and important. Thank you for needing me, and for your sweetness and milky mouth and the way you have actually begun to smile or cry at me when you have something to convey.
**She will not, however, take daytime naps at present. Her eyes slide halfway closed and she goes a little limp, and then WHAMMO! Open again. She cries in frustration. So we're working on that, since her Nonna nanny is going a wee bit stark raving.
... which is why I found myself pondering whether a baby can get too much consecutive sleep. Nora, for the second night in a row, slept for 11 hours straight. With nary a peep nor a rustle. And then she stirred a bit, just as the earliest morning light crept into the sky, and hung out in her bassinet for another hour cooing to herself while I got her bottles ready, cleaned the kitchen, and wrote three thank you notes forcryingoutloud.
I found myself thinking - was she too warm and therefore near comatose? Will she never ever take a daytime nap and become cranky and inconsolable (again - like yesterday - poor Nonna)** due to constant stimulation? Is she getting enough calories (the ultimate concern with Nora Bean)? Is she freakishly early in her sleep development because of some melatonin imbalance?
And of course, there is the undercurrent of wincing anticipation that she'll make up for it by refusing to sleep for more than an hour, or something, next week.
So I knock on wood, and try not to say anything about it to the other new parents at work, who are stumbling around with little satchels under their eyes. I want to prattle on about it with beaming eyes, but oh how annoying I would be. Surely, I'd be run out of town by a torch- and pitchfork-bearing mob.
Knock on wood.
I love you, Nora. I can't begin to describe how purposeful and happy I felt puttering around the kitchen as the sun came up. Everything I do these days, from going to work to sweeping the kitchen floor, feels meaningful and important. Thank you for needing me, and for your sweetness and milky mouth and the way you have actually begun to smile or cry at me when you have something to convey.
**She will not, however, take daytime naps at present. Her eyes slide halfway closed and she goes a little limp, and then WHAMMO! Open again. She cries in frustration. So we're working on that, since her Nonna nanny is going a wee bit stark raving.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
She Hates Jazz
Baby loves the "Big Night" soundtrack.
Well, I love it. And have been playing it a lot. And she doesn't object.
Except when this one jazz-y number comes on. Oh, she hates it. She hates jazz.
That's my girl.
Well, I love it. And have been playing it a lot. And she doesn't object.
Except when this one jazz-y number comes on. Oh, she hates it. She hates jazz.
That's my girl.
Nobody ever told me ...
... how much I would totally, completely love this.
Even getting up in the middle of the night.
Even cleaning the bottles so many times my cuticles start to crack.
Even wiping a poopy bottom.
Even missing out on dancing to '80s music until 2am at my sister-in-law's birthday party.
Even though going to the grocery store takes two hours of preparation.
And I really wasn't prepared for ...
not wanting to go back to work. At all. Ever.
me crying when she got her first vaccines. (Four big shots in her little legs, ohmigoodness!)
how much I would worry about everything.
the way she looks like a totally different person almost every day.
listening to myself talk and talk and talk about her, to anyone who makes the mistake of asking.
the huge bubble of happiness that swells up in my chest and this new energy for life I feel, every day, because of her.
Oh, there is so much more. Just sitting here on a blustery day, with her purring little baby breaths on my neck, listening to the rattling fall leaves and the recess bell ringing down the street, I think I understand contentment.
Even getting up in the middle of the night.
Even cleaning the bottles so many times my cuticles start to crack.
Even wiping a poopy bottom.
Even missing out on dancing to '80s music until 2am at my sister-in-law's birthday party.
Even though going to the grocery store takes two hours of preparation.
And I really wasn't prepared for ...
not wanting to go back to work. At all. Ever.
me crying when she got her first vaccines. (Four big shots in her little legs, ohmigoodness!)
how much I would worry about everything.
the way she looks like a totally different person almost every day.
listening to myself talk and talk and talk about her, to anyone who makes the mistake of asking.
the huge bubble of happiness that swells up in my chest and this new energy for life I feel, every day, because of her.
Oh, there is so much more. Just sitting here on a blustery day, with her purring little baby breaths on my neck, listening to the rattling fall leaves and the recess bell ringing down the street, I think I understand contentment.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Breast efforts ...
I can't believe I haven't blogged in so many weeks. I can't believe I haven't written in Nora's baby book. I can't believe I haven't documented every detail of this incredible experience ... She's already gone from being this wee little thing, moving her head and arms in baby slow-mo, her unfocused gaze gliding into places unknown to us earthly mortals. (Seriously - these new babes are like messengers from another place ...).
She smiled for the first time at five weeks (at daddy - I missed it - and then at Aunt K, a wide, knowing, gorgeous grin that spread right around the edges of her bink ... we all exclaimed and oohed and laughed and thrilled at the occasion!). She gave us a full-blown, lower-lip-pushed-out pout around the same time. And the cooing! Oh, the cooing is the best, best, best sound in the whole universe. Who needs to chant "Om" - this, surely, is the first sound of creation!
Yesterday, I put her on her tummy (I am sure I don't do enough of that. Add this to the list of new worries in my head.) and propped her arms beneath her, and she pushed herself right over. I don't know if that counts as rolling over, since I positioned her for good leverage, but - hooray!
She is so funny and beautiful and good. I think I have what my grandma would call a "Good Baby." She is pretty predictable and relatively easy to soothe, she sleeps for 4-5 hour stretches at night already, and always around the same times. Daytime naps are another story - she will only sleep in the Snugli or Bjorn. Her little head does the bob and weave and she whimpers and peers at me with sleepy, bleary eyes if I try to get her down in the bouncer or her cradle. Oh, transition!! I see that my life will now be about easing this little one through every transition.
Breastfeeding is a long, long story. I am so sad today, so frustrated and desperate.
N was so little at birth, and then lost more than 10% of her total weight, which set all the medical professionals into a flurry. She'd latch on fine, and the milk was there, but she'd fall asleep almost instantly. Tickling her feet, undressing her, etc etc, would get a few little sucks out of her. But mostly, she'd go noodle limp, and sleep. At her second weight check, a few days after we brought her home, the nurse handed me a bottle of Nutramegen formula and very matter-of-factly (with a smile, even) told me to supplement her. My heart did a loopty-loop of despair ... it was scary, we were so exhausted, everything seemed covered in grey fuzz. And I stood there in the NICU (where the weight checks happened - which led to the overall feeling that Something Was Wrong), with N in her car seat, and put my finger in her mouth and watched her swallow Something Other Than Breastmilk.
We taped that tube to our fingers, and fed her with it from a syringe, for a couple of weeks. I was able to pump just enough breastmilk, just barely, to get the ounce required for each feeding. I was so proud of that ounce - it meant no formula. We stood there breathless, watching each suck, praying that the plunger would move down, down, down and she'd get what she needed into her little belly. Then I'd put her to breast, and hope.
Then there was the horrible series of events at the hospital's lactation clinic. A long story, but their disorganized process, vague instructions, and finally what I would call negligence sent me storming out in tears, DTB following behind with N in the carrier, me furious and feeling that Mama Bear instinct for the very first time. (They had given us one syringe - not telling us we needed a new one every few days because the plunger would swell after being boiled, and get harder to move ... my mouth flew open ... so that's why my little baby hasn't been able to pull her sustenance out of the tube?! We thought she was too weak, we were drowning her by taking out the plunger and feeding her by gravity ... I was furious ... and then they sold us the wrong sized Haberman nipple ...)
She got better at sucking, but was still sleepy and needed prodding. The every two hour schedule was killing us. It meant no sleep for us, and no sleep for Nora, which just didn't seem right. So we edged it toward three hours. And at her next weight check, we were so sure she'd have gained. We were sure that our decision, at the gentle encouragement from my parents, to "listen to Nora" and follow a rhythm that felt right, would work. And it didn't. And she didn't. That's when we packed the three of us into the car and drove 30 minutes to buy her "Fancy Bottle" ... and took a deep breath and bought organic formula ...
For eight weeks, I've offered her the breast every single time before the bottle. She did great sometimes. She fell asleep a lot of the time. (Oh, and did I mention I've used a nipple shield, due to my flat nipples, from the beginning? As advised by the lactation nurses and specialists and so on. And did I mention the spitting up? Or maybe it was vomiting sometimes. Huge gushes. All that nutrition, all that effort, would come pouring down her chin. We worried it was reflux, we worried even more that it was pyloric stenosis. None of the above, they told us. Maybe it was overfeeding ... overfeeding?!). I saw an independent lactation consultant. I pumped and took Fenugreek and drank tea for lactation, took warm showers and did breast compressions. With the supplements, and the improved nursing, she started gaining. More than once, I'd wake up with a damp shirt, or feel a trickle running down my stomach as I stood at the sink. The milk was there! She was nursing! And then - she went on strike. She screamed and pushed away whenever I offered the breast. I'd try coaxing her little wailing mouth onto the nipple, and she'd get worse. This lasted 24 hours that I so tearfully believed would be an eternity - I turned the Fancy Bottle onto it's lowest flow so she'd have to work at it, just like the breast - I held her close to me, skin to skin, while I fed her. And finally, she latched back on. For a week, she'd latch on, and do her thing - sucking a little, falling asleep, sucking a little more when I rubbed her back or tickled her chin or blah blah blah ...
Her weight had been climbing steadily, about 8 ounces at a time, for a few weeks. This last week, it slowed again. I stared at the growth chart presented by our nurse. She's in the 2nd percentile for weight and height.
My friend's baby was born 5 days ago, and she weighs the same as Nora at eight weeks.
Then, yesterday, she went back on strike.
I've been able to trick her into latching on by either offering while she was still half asleep from a nap (in which case she sucks a little, and falls back asleep), or putting a tiny bit of breastmilk or formula on the shield, and offering while she is totally calm. Still - her sucks have become less and less productive. Yes, I've tried the football hold, I've tried playing music. I've tried positioning her and latching her to the closest millimeter as described in the diagrams. Still, she jsut hangs out there. She doesn't eat. And after doing this for - who knows how long? - I'll offer her the second breast, and she'll scream.
I give her the bottle (first an ounce of precious breastmilk, earned at the pump through sheer determination and rationed throughout the day - then 2-3 ounces of formula - thank god she's had no dairy allergies), and she sucks away happily, until she's sleepy with fullness, her cheeks glowing pink. She nestles her small, warm head into my shoulder and breathes her purring little baby breaths, content. A picture of sweet, quiet mother-baby time. And then she lets loose a roaring belch, and I laugh so hard.
3:00 am, and I'm standing in N's room, with the pump sucking away at my chest. Every drop that appears, I inwardly cheer. "c'mon, c'mon ... more." I hope for an ounce total. I get almost nothing. The pump has always worked. Why isn't it working? Is my milk disappearing?
N wakes, I offer the breast, and she screams and looks at me with wild, pleading eyes. The pumped milk stores are almost gone. Why do I feel so agonized at the thought of 100% formula? Could it be everything I've read and learned, not to mention my own motherly desires? There is a bumper sticker down the street that says "Human Milk for Human Babies." It feels like a personal attack.
This morning, I sat on the porch, N asleep in the Snugli, me staring at the blue fall sky. I called my friend V, who is always rational and supportive. "If it just isnt' working for either of you, it's okay not to nurse any more. You can pump, and if that works, give her what you can get. And if it doesn't - don't kill yourself trying. You've tried harder than many, many people would have. You aren't failing."
I feel like there is a committee of Perfect Breastfeeding Mommies sitting behind a table, frowning and murmuring to one another about The Mommy Who Didn't Do Everything She Could. I'm waiting for the gasps of disapproval when "people find out" that my baby only got breastmilk for a few months. And got mostly formula from the beginning. I keep hearing our infant care instructor running down the list of disadvantages for formula-fed babies. Weaker immune system, higher chance of leukemia, more vision problems, constipation, allergies ... and so on.
Oh, N, we've tried so hard at this. I could call our wonderful lactation consultant again. But I am so afraid she is going to tell me that we haven't tried everything, that there is yet another extreme measure we can take. I think we are both so tired and frustrated from all of this. I don't want to hold my breath with anxiety every time I go to feed you. I don't want to worry that you aren't gaining weight. I want to see more fat rolls added to your cute little legs, I want to see you full and content, always.
And so I've made the decision that I am not going to offer the breast for awhile. Maybe not ever again. I'm going to keep pumping as much as I can, and hope for the best, and try hard to be totally okay with the fact that most of your food is formula. And when it's time for solids, I'll make it up to you somehow.
Oh, the mommy guilt. V told me that it doesn't get better as they get bigger, this deep knot of fear that you aren't doing something right.
But oh, the pure joy of this! She's the most perfect, special thing in my life, I'm honored and humbled by the responsibility. I feel so lucky to have her.
She smiled for the first time at five weeks (at daddy - I missed it - and then at Aunt K, a wide, knowing, gorgeous grin that spread right around the edges of her bink ... we all exclaimed and oohed and laughed and thrilled at the occasion!). She gave us a full-blown, lower-lip-pushed-out pout around the same time. And the cooing! Oh, the cooing is the best, best, best sound in the whole universe. Who needs to chant "Om" - this, surely, is the first sound of creation!
Yesterday, I put her on her tummy (I am sure I don't do enough of that. Add this to the list of new worries in my head.) and propped her arms beneath her, and she pushed herself right over. I don't know if that counts as rolling over, since I positioned her for good leverage, but - hooray!
She is so funny and beautiful and good. I think I have what my grandma would call a "Good Baby." She is pretty predictable and relatively easy to soothe, she sleeps for 4-5 hour stretches at night already, and always around the same times. Daytime naps are another story - she will only sleep in the Snugli or Bjorn. Her little head does the bob and weave and she whimpers and peers at me with sleepy, bleary eyes if I try to get her down in the bouncer or her cradle. Oh, transition!! I see that my life will now be about easing this little one through every transition.
Breastfeeding is a long, long story. I am so sad today, so frustrated and desperate.
N was so little at birth, and then lost more than 10% of her total weight, which set all the medical professionals into a flurry. She'd latch on fine, and the milk was there, but she'd fall asleep almost instantly. Tickling her feet, undressing her, etc etc, would get a few little sucks out of her. But mostly, she'd go noodle limp, and sleep. At her second weight check, a few days after we brought her home, the nurse handed me a bottle of Nutramegen formula and very matter-of-factly (with a smile, even) told me to supplement her. My heart did a loopty-loop of despair ... it was scary, we were so exhausted, everything seemed covered in grey fuzz. And I stood there in the NICU (where the weight checks happened - which led to the overall feeling that Something Was Wrong), with N in her car seat, and put my finger in her mouth and watched her swallow Something Other Than Breastmilk.
We taped that tube to our fingers, and fed her with it from a syringe, for a couple of weeks. I was able to pump just enough breastmilk, just barely, to get the ounce required for each feeding. I was so proud of that ounce - it meant no formula. We stood there breathless, watching each suck, praying that the plunger would move down, down, down and she'd get what she needed into her little belly. Then I'd put her to breast, and hope.
Then there was the horrible series of events at the hospital's lactation clinic. A long story, but their disorganized process, vague instructions, and finally what I would call negligence sent me storming out in tears, DTB following behind with N in the carrier, me furious and feeling that Mama Bear instinct for the very first time. (They had given us one syringe - not telling us we needed a new one every few days because the plunger would swell after being boiled, and get harder to move ... my mouth flew open ... so that's why my little baby hasn't been able to pull her sustenance out of the tube?! We thought she was too weak, we were drowning her by taking out the plunger and feeding her by gravity ... I was furious ... and then they sold us the wrong sized Haberman nipple ...)
She got better at sucking, but was still sleepy and needed prodding. The every two hour schedule was killing us. It meant no sleep for us, and no sleep for Nora, which just didn't seem right. So we edged it toward three hours. And at her next weight check, we were so sure she'd have gained. We were sure that our decision, at the gentle encouragement from my parents, to "listen to Nora" and follow a rhythm that felt right, would work. And it didn't. And she didn't. That's when we packed the three of us into the car and drove 30 minutes to buy her "Fancy Bottle" ... and took a deep breath and bought organic formula ...
For eight weeks, I've offered her the breast every single time before the bottle. She did great sometimes. She fell asleep a lot of the time. (Oh, and did I mention I've used a nipple shield, due to my flat nipples, from the beginning? As advised by the lactation nurses and specialists and so on. And did I mention the spitting up? Or maybe it was vomiting sometimes. Huge gushes. All that nutrition, all that effort, would come pouring down her chin. We worried it was reflux, we worried even more that it was pyloric stenosis. None of the above, they told us. Maybe it was overfeeding ... overfeeding?!). I saw an independent lactation consultant. I pumped and took Fenugreek and drank tea for lactation, took warm showers and did breast compressions. With the supplements, and the improved nursing, she started gaining. More than once, I'd wake up with a damp shirt, or feel a trickle running down my stomach as I stood at the sink. The milk was there! She was nursing! And then - she went on strike. She screamed and pushed away whenever I offered the breast. I'd try coaxing her little wailing mouth onto the nipple, and she'd get worse. This lasted 24 hours that I so tearfully believed would be an eternity - I turned the Fancy Bottle onto it's lowest flow so she'd have to work at it, just like the breast - I held her close to me, skin to skin, while I fed her. And finally, she latched back on. For a week, she'd latch on, and do her thing - sucking a little, falling asleep, sucking a little more when I rubbed her back or tickled her chin or blah blah blah ...
Her weight had been climbing steadily, about 8 ounces at a time, for a few weeks. This last week, it slowed again. I stared at the growth chart presented by our nurse. She's in the 2nd percentile for weight and height.
My friend's baby was born 5 days ago, and she weighs the same as Nora at eight weeks.
Then, yesterday, she went back on strike.
I've been able to trick her into latching on by either offering while she was still half asleep from a nap (in which case she sucks a little, and falls back asleep), or putting a tiny bit of breastmilk or formula on the shield, and offering while she is totally calm. Still - her sucks have become less and less productive. Yes, I've tried the football hold, I've tried playing music. I've tried positioning her and latching her to the closest millimeter as described in the diagrams. Still, she jsut hangs out there. She doesn't eat. And after doing this for - who knows how long? - I'll offer her the second breast, and she'll scream.
I give her the bottle (first an ounce of precious breastmilk, earned at the pump through sheer determination and rationed throughout the day - then 2-3 ounces of formula - thank god she's had no dairy allergies), and she sucks away happily, until she's sleepy with fullness, her cheeks glowing pink. She nestles her small, warm head into my shoulder and breathes her purring little baby breaths, content. A picture of sweet, quiet mother-baby time. And then she lets loose a roaring belch, and I laugh so hard.
3:00 am, and I'm standing in N's room, with the pump sucking away at my chest. Every drop that appears, I inwardly cheer. "c'mon, c'mon ... more." I hope for an ounce total. I get almost nothing. The pump has always worked. Why isn't it working? Is my milk disappearing?
N wakes, I offer the breast, and she screams and looks at me with wild, pleading eyes. The pumped milk stores are almost gone. Why do I feel so agonized at the thought of 100% formula? Could it be everything I've read and learned, not to mention my own motherly desires? There is a bumper sticker down the street that says "Human Milk for Human Babies." It feels like a personal attack.
This morning, I sat on the porch, N asleep in the Snugli, me staring at the blue fall sky. I called my friend V, who is always rational and supportive. "If it just isnt' working for either of you, it's okay not to nurse any more. You can pump, and if that works, give her what you can get. And if it doesn't - don't kill yourself trying. You've tried harder than many, many people would have. You aren't failing."
I feel like there is a committee of Perfect Breastfeeding Mommies sitting behind a table, frowning and murmuring to one another about The Mommy Who Didn't Do Everything She Could. I'm waiting for the gasps of disapproval when "people find out" that my baby only got breastmilk for a few months. And got mostly formula from the beginning. I keep hearing our infant care instructor running down the list of disadvantages for formula-fed babies. Weaker immune system, higher chance of leukemia, more vision problems, constipation, allergies ... and so on.
Oh, N, we've tried so hard at this. I could call our wonderful lactation consultant again. But I am so afraid she is going to tell me that we haven't tried everything, that there is yet another extreme measure we can take. I think we are both so tired and frustrated from all of this. I don't want to hold my breath with anxiety every time I go to feed you. I don't want to worry that you aren't gaining weight. I want to see more fat rolls added to your cute little legs, I want to see you full and content, always.
And so I've made the decision that I am not going to offer the breast for awhile. Maybe not ever again. I'm going to keep pumping as much as I can, and hope for the best, and try hard to be totally okay with the fact that most of your food is formula. And when it's time for solids, I'll make it up to you somehow.
Oh, the mommy guilt. V told me that it doesn't get better as they get bigger, this deep knot of fear that you aren't doing something right.
But oh, the pure joy of this! She's the most perfect, special thing in my life, I'm honored and humbled by the responsibility. I feel so lucky to have her.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Becoming a mama ...
Coming up for air ...
Asleep on my chest, in the Snugli (the red corduroy one that was my own mom's waaaaay back when I was born), is the new center to to my universe. Miss Nora, Nora Bean, Bug, Tootsie Roll, Baby ... seven weeks old tomorrow and I am utterly amazed at what a different baby she already is from the day she was born!
I've decided to continue this blog as a mama blog, for now, since it seems to me that the act of becoming a mama sure doesn't stop with the birth of your baby ...
And with that - baby cries. Guess these posts will be short more often, now ...
Asleep on my chest, in the Snugli (the red corduroy one that was my own mom's waaaaay back when I was born), is the new center to to my universe. Miss Nora, Nora Bean, Bug, Tootsie Roll, Baby ... seven weeks old tomorrow and I am utterly amazed at what a different baby she already is from the day she was born!
I've decided to continue this blog as a mama blog, for now, since it seems to me that the act of becoming a mama sure doesn't stop with the birth of your baby ...
And with that - baby cries. Guess these posts will be short more often, now ...
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Day ~255
Times up to pee: 4
I am so tired. So tired tired tired. I didn't sleep a bit last night. Miss Belly was jammed into my pelvic bone and no matter which way I turned it just hurt. Finally at about 5a.m. I propped up some pillows and tried to sleep sitting up. At which point she oddly seemed to jam herself upward into the very top of my rib cage. It made it hard to breathe. I dozed off and on until 7:30.
We've been so busy, our breakfast supplies are sadly diminished. So I stopped at Starbucks on the way to work, had mom meet me for a quick hello, got a decaf latte and some fruit. Really wanted a pastry but in my fog I forgot to order one, and when I sat down, this set me off into a flood of tears. She tried hard to comfort me. I just keep thinking - if I am this tired now, how will I get through the birth and then tending this tiny infant who will need me so much?
Somehow I need to find a way to get some rest. It makes me so angry at my employer for not having any kind of maternity benefit. I can't take any extra time to just rest and get myself physically and mentally ready. If I could just get a few good nights of sleep and a few extra days at home to clear the clutter and wash the dishes and maybe even freeze some meals so we don't survive on takeout later ...
All the mamas around me just nod, and then glance at each other and smirk, and say, "Oh honey, this is the easy part! Just wait!" Well, thanks for the confidence booster. I've said it before and I'll say it again - I wish our culture was more supportive and enthusiastic for new mamas, instead of wry and bitter and, yes, even negative. I guess parents come to realize that there is just so little actual support for families in our country, so they can't help but sigh deeply and shake their heads and say from tired experience, "It only gets harder from here."
What, then, is the point? Someone please tell me. Our babies are joyous and amazing and totally worth it - right? Becoming a family and rediscovering all the joys and wonder of life through our children makes life better ... and somehow the exhaustion becomes a small price to pay for the little smiles. Right?
Oh dear, I have always worried about post-partum depression, and I am starting to wonder if there is such a thing as pre-partum depression, because I feel so overwhelmed and uncertain all of a sudden! Aren't I supposed to be eager and anxious and ecstatically expectant? Two weeks away from my due date, as of today. Maybe I just need a nap ...
Times up to pee: 4
I am so tired. So tired tired tired. I didn't sleep a bit last night. Miss Belly was jammed into my pelvic bone and no matter which way I turned it just hurt. Finally at about 5a.m. I propped up some pillows and tried to sleep sitting up. At which point she oddly seemed to jam herself upward into the very top of my rib cage. It made it hard to breathe. I dozed off and on until 7:30.
We've been so busy, our breakfast supplies are sadly diminished. So I stopped at Starbucks on the way to work, had mom meet me for a quick hello, got a decaf latte and some fruit. Really wanted a pastry but in my fog I forgot to order one, and when I sat down, this set me off into a flood of tears. She tried hard to comfort me. I just keep thinking - if I am this tired now, how will I get through the birth and then tending this tiny infant who will need me so much?
Somehow I need to find a way to get some rest. It makes me so angry at my employer for not having any kind of maternity benefit. I can't take any extra time to just rest and get myself physically and mentally ready. If I could just get a few good nights of sleep and a few extra days at home to clear the clutter and wash the dishes and maybe even freeze some meals so we don't survive on takeout later ...
All the mamas around me just nod, and then glance at each other and smirk, and say, "Oh honey, this is the easy part! Just wait!" Well, thanks for the confidence booster. I've said it before and I'll say it again - I wish our culture was more supportive and enthusiastic for new mamas, instead of wry and bitter and, yes, even negative. I guess parents come to realize that there is just so little actual support for families in our country, so they can't help but sigh deeply and shake their heads and say from tired experience, "It only gets harder from here."
What, then, is the point? Someone please tell me. Our babies are joyous and amazing and totally worth it - right? Becoming a family and rediscovering all the joys and wonder of life through our children makes life better ... and somehow the exhaustion becomes a small price to pay for the little smiles. Right?
Oh dear, I have always worried about post-partum depression, and I am starting to wonder if there is such a thing as pre-partum depression, because I feel so overwhelmed and uncertain all of a sudden! Aren't I supposed to be eager and anxious and ecstatically expectant? Two weeks away from my due date, as of today. Maybe I just need a nap ...
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Day ~240
Times up to pee: 4
I can't believe it's been almost a month since I posted, Miss Belly. So much has happened since then!
First, you will note the return of the "Times up to pee" count at the top of this post. You have grown so big, my poor bladder is squashed into some little corner of my pelvis. It's worst at night. I wake up every couple of hours, and it huuuuurts, it's so full! And turning over is harder and harder - the belly is difficult to manuever, I have to do some very ungraceful rolling around to swing my feet toward the floor, and then somehow get my arms underneath me with enough leverage to sit up .... and with each movement, my bladder is squashed and mushed and I have to go now. I shuffle waddle to the bathroom and usually end up with a very unsatisfying trickle.
Second - I met my online friend! She's great. We connected through Urban Mamas, if I remember correctly. She's due with her little girl just a week after you. We finally made a date, and had yummy chocolate delights at Pix, and commiserated about the discomforts of pregnancy and all the well-intended (yet really, really annoying) advice from people. It will be fun to get together with her again - for a playdate with you wee ladies!
In other news - my nesting instinct has been raging. The kitchen is painted, thanks to your daddy. He pulled some very late nights to get it done for me. I can't believe how good he is to me, sometimes. (He calls us "his girlies" and loves us so much. We're really lucky. He had a dream about you the other night - about how totally cute you are. Which I thought was very sweet.) We also had a big garage sale, so the basement is clear of the junk that was driving me crazy. Now we just need to build some shelves in your room, put things away, clean the house ... we're getting ready for you, and it's more real every single day. Sometimes, though, I get very overwhelmed at the thought of actually having a little person in this room we've been assembling for so long. A third person in our home! It has been the two of us for so long ... I hope we can meld right into a threesome and give you enough of everything you need.
We have finished out birthing classes. They were ... okay. I guess we got something out of it - the basics of what to expect and look for, some techniques for distraction during contractions. I wish there had been more about how to care for you and me after the birth. The instructor was a real piece of work. She actually used props, like smiley faces on sticks! I felt kind of sad because none of the other expectant parents asked us for our phone number. I was sort of hoping for that, since we are all due around the same time and live in the same neighborhood. And I felt too shy to do it myself.
I think I am almost as ready as I can be for you to get here. Another week or so, and I will probably be very anxious. I still have this vague sense of terror, hoping that I can do this well ... you are going to be so important to us, and I always want to feel Very Prepared for anything new that I take on. This time, it is like leaping off a very tall cliff, in a jump that will last forever. And it will be wonderful, everyone tells me. As long as I am not too hard on myself. I have always been so afraid to fail! How does one become a confident mama? How do you know you're doing it right? How do you keep from beating yourself up and questioning yourself constantly? I guess I'll find out.
I know you will make us laugh and smile like never before, and I can't wait to watch your daddy - and nonna - and aunties and uncles - love you up.
Times up to pee: 4
I can't believe it's been almost a month since I posted, Miss Belly. So much has happened since then!
First, you will note the return of the "Times up to pee" count at the top of this post. You have grown so big, my poor bladder is squashed into some little corner of my pelvis. It's worst at night. I wake up every couple of hours, and it huuuuurts, it's so full! And turning over is harder and harder - the belly is difficult to manuever, I have to do some very ungraceful rolling around to swing my feet toward the floor, and then somehow get my arms underneath me with enough leverage to sit up .... and with each movement, my bladder is squashed and mushed and I have to go now. I shuffle waddle to the bathroom and usually end up with a very unsatisfying trickle.
Second - I met my online friend! She's great. We connected through Urban Mamas, if I remember correctly. She's due with her little girl just a week after you. We finally made a date, and had yummy chocolate delights at Pix, and commiserated about the discomforts of pregnancy and all the well-intended (yet really, really annoying) advice from people. It will be fun to get together with her again - for a playdate with you wee ladies!
In other news - my nesting instinct has been raging. The kitchen is painted, thanks to your daddy. He pulled some very late nights to get it done for me. I can't believe how good he is to me, sometimes. (He calls us "his girlies" and loves us so much. We're really lucky. He had a dream about you the other night - about how totally cute you are. Which I thought was very sweet.) We also had a big garage sale, so the basement is clear of the junk that was driving me crazy. Now we just need to build some shelves in your room, put things away, clean the house ... we're getting ready for you, and it's more real every single day. Sometimes, though, I get very overwhelmed at the thought of actually having a little person in this room we've been assembling for so long. A third person in our home! It has been the two of us for so long ... I hope we can meld right into a threesome and give you enough of everything you need.
We have finished out birthing classes. They were ... okay. I guess we got something out of it - the basics of what to expect and look for, some techniques for distraction during contractions. I wish there had been more about how to care for you and me after the birth. The instructor was a real piece of work. She actually used props, like smiley faces on sticks! I felt kind of sad because none of the other expectant parents asked us for our phone number. I was sort of hoping for that, since we are all due around the same time and live in the same neighborhood. And I felt too shy to do it myself.
I think I am almost as ready as I can be for you to get here. Another week or so, and I will probably be very anxious. I still have this vague sense of terror, hoping that I can do this well ... you are going to be so important to us, and I always want to feel Very Prepared for anything new that I take on. This time, it is like leaping off a very tall cliff, in a jump that will last forever. And it will be wonderful, everyone tells me. As long as I am not too hard on myself. I have always been so afraid to fail! How does one become a confident mama? How do you know you're doing it right? How do you keep from beating yourself up and questioning yourself constantly? I guess I'll find out.
I know you will make us laugh and smile like never before, and I can't wait to watch your daddy - and nonna - and aunties and uncles - love you up.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Day ~211
The Belly Groweth
I keep forgetting how this feels ... these belly growth spurts! It hasn't ceased to amaze me that this isn't like the gradual creeping of non-pregnancy weight gain, wherein one can gain 40 pounds without really admitting it until you're buying a size 16. No - this comes in gigantic, overnight swellings! Between last Thursday, and today, at least one of my shirts has gone from comfortable to very, very snug. I have that odd burning, nauseous sensation that I've had now and then from the beginning, right before seeing a big increase in belly girth. And most definitely, everything feels rounder, and firmer, and BIGGER than just two days ago.
Tonight, you really put on a show for daddy and me. Rolling waves and swells on the side of my stomach, which we think may have been stretching hands ... daddy made shadow puppets on the belly and you responded with sweet little pushes. Pretty cool stuff, kid. (Also very Alien-esque, quite frankly, but sci-fi cool anyway).
I made my very first clothing purchase as a mama today. A cute little orange vintage dress with smocking and tiny rick-rack across the bottom, for $2.25 at a thrift store; and a funky paisley shirt for when you're just about walking. I also drooled over the cuteness of these little booties with rocket ship pilot girls on the toes ...
The Belly Groweth
I keep forgetting how this feels ... these belly growth spurts! It hasn't ceased to amaze me that this isn't like the gradual creeping of non-pregnancy weight gain, wherein one can gain 40 pounds without really admitting it until you're buying a size 16. No - this comes in gigantic, overnight swellings! Between last Thursday, and today, at least one of my shirts has gone from comfortable to very, very snug. I have that odd burning, nauseous sensation that I've had now and then from the beginning, right before seeing a big increase in belly girth. And most definitely, everything feels rounder, and firmer, and BIGGER than just two days ago.
Tonight, you really put on a show for daddy and me. Rolling waves and swells on the side of my stomach, which we think may have been stretching hands ... daddy made shadow puppets on the belly and you responded with sweet little pushes. Pretty cool stuff, kid. (Also very Alien-esque, quite frankly, but sci-fi cool anyway).
I made my very first clothing purchase as a mama today. A cute little orange vintage dress with smocking and tiny rick-rack across the bottom, for $2.25 at a thrift store; and a funky paisley shirt for when you're just about walking. I also drooled over the cuteness of these little booties with rocket ship pilot girls on the toes ...
Monday, July 17, 2006
Day ~210
The Belly's "Baby Soiree"
Pink and green paper lanterns ... a cake shaped like boobs and a belly ... two kinds of punch (with alcohol add-ins to the side) ... chicken satay, sausages, pasta salad, and munchies galore ... perfect weather ... the love and excitement of the Best Sister in Law Ever ... what a party was thrown for you, Miss Belly!
Yesterday, we had family and friends all together in our honor for only the second time in our life (the first being our wedding, and that was just a small, special group on the beach in Mexico), and it was lovely! Thanks to K, whose energy and good taste and magic touch brought together every little detail for an amazing show. And she was still smiling at the end of the day! The boys did a stroller-racing obstacle course, there was some good-hearted pestering for us to reveal your name (we still aren't sure), and "Opa" marched around making a video to go into the "Time Capsule" that will be opened on your 16th birthday. I wonder whether we'll even have the technology around to view it by then, or if we'll have holographic chips or something instead.
My girl - you have more footie pajamas than you will ever wear. I was thrilled to get a diaper pail, quite frankly, because no baby needs as many clothes as are presently piled in your room. People can't resist the cuteness, I realize, but I am making it a policy to buy new parents Very Practical Items! Whatever will we do with 17 (I am not joking) blankies?? These are not swaddling cloths - these are handmade quilts and afghans and microfleecy-cuddly things. Seriously, I don't even know where we'll store them!
Until now, I used the party as a marker in the future, to reassure myself that I had plenty of time."Oh, the party is still so far off - that's when it will be getting close. I have weeks to go!" And suddenly, I am in the "after the party" time frame. With 8 weeks to go. And so much to do, and so much to think about ....
And yet, I find myself realizing that there really isn't that much more to think about. It's going to be a lifelong ride, and we'll never be prepared in advance any more than we already are. I wonder if "life before __ __ was born" will fade into the fog, and we'll peer back at it, and wonder how we ever got along without you?
You met your grandpa T for the first time last week, too. As soon as he put his hand on the belly, you moved. You haven't done that for anyone else. You must sense that he is very special and very powerful. He was my daddy, and I worshipped him for so long ...I only wish he didn't now live halfway around the globe. Oh, you'd have fun with him!
The Belly's "Baby Soiree"
Pink and green paper lanterns ... a cake shaped like boobs and a belly ... two kinds of punch (with alcohol add-ins to the side) ... chicken satay, sausages, pasta salad, and munchies galore ... perfect weather ... the love and excitement of the Best Sister in Law Ever ... what a party was thrown for you, Miss Belly!
Yesterday, we had family and friends all together in our honor for only the second time in our life (the first being our wedding, and that was just a small, special group on the beach in Mexico), and it was lovely! Thanks to K, whose energy and good taste and magic touch brought together every little detail for an amazing show. And she was still smiling at the end of the day! The boys did a stroller-racing obstacle course, there was some good-hearted pestering for us to reveal your name (we still aren't sure), and "Opa" marched around making a video to go into the "Time Capsule" that will be opened on your 16th birthday. I wonder whether we'll even have the technology around to view it by then, or if we'll have holographic chips or something instead.
My girl - you have more footie pajamas than you will ever wear. I was thrilled to get a diaper pail, quite frankly, because no baby needs as many clothes as are presently piled in your room. People can't resist the cuteness, I realize, but I am making it a policy to buy new parents Very Practical Items! Whatever will we do with 17 (I am not joking) blankies?? These are not swaddling cloths - these are handmade quilts and afghans and microfleecy-cuddly things. Seriously, I don't even know where we'll store them!
Until now, I used the party as a marker in the future, to reassure myself that I had plenty of time."Oh, the party is still so far off - that's when it will be getting close. I have weeks to go!" And suddenly, I am in the "after the party" time frame. With 8 weeks to go. And so much to do, and so much to think about ....
And yet, I find myself realizing that there really isn't that much more to think about. It's going to be a lifelong ride, and we'll never be prepared in advance any more than we already are. I wonder if "life before __ __ was born" will fade into the fog, and we'll peer back at it, and wonder how we ever got along without you?
You met your grandpa T for the first time last week, too. As soon as he put his hand on the belly, you moved. You haven't done that for anyone else. You must sense that he is very special and very powerful. He was my daddy, and I worshipped him for so long ...I only wish he didn't now live halfway around the globe. Oh, you'd have fun with him!
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Day ~202
The Frightening Foray Into Infant Care
At the urging of a good friend, I decided to push past my denial that 9 weeks of pregnancy plus 12 weeks of maternity leave is an eternity, and that Mary Poppins will arrive at my doorstep just when I need her ... and I scheduled my first tour at a day care center.
I started with Providence Wee Care, which was recommended by several mamas, and is part of our hospital system. They accept children of Providence employees first, and then siblings of enrolled children, and then new, non-Providence children. But I had to start somewhere, so away I went. I got lost; I took the wrong elevator; I ended up at the back door of the center, in an anonymous hallway, peering through the security-controlled glass door at a group of other touring parents who looked at me blankly. Finally, someone at the front desk opened the door via remote control, and I edged into the tour, which had already started.
I felt conspicuous, and bewildered, and overwhelmed. The infant room seemed so ... sterile. In personality, not cleanliness, though it was inarguably spotless. It was sparkling clean, quiet, and spacious, but keep in mind - I have never been to a daycare center. My only experience with daycare was a very brief time as very young child, which went very, very poorly until my mother yanked me out after they forgot to pick me up at kindergarten. All I remember is being forced to eat split pea soup that I promptly threw up, and the terrifying prospect of enforced naps in a long row with strange kids. So I have no frame of reference. I don't know what to expect, or how it should feel. Wee Care was ... fine. But to me, right then, in my anxiety,. it didn't feel cozy, or loving, or stimulating. Maybe it was nap time - the lights were off. Or maybe they had them off because it was a hot day, and there was enough dim light from the windows. Maybe it was good that it was so very quiet, even though all the babies were awake, but I expected more energy in the room. In any case, I trailed along as the tour left the infant rooms, and traveled down the hall to peer inside the preschool rooms, which were more bustling and colorful ... later, I asked to see the infant room again, and met a wonderfully nice lady who had a cute little one on her lap, and it all seemed - well - fine. But not the slice of heaven I needed right then.
I can't really explain how I felt, and I don't mean to place judgment on day care in general, or even Wee Care, not at all. But I panicked. I wanted to cry. I just couldn't imagine bringing my own tiny baby to any place that wasn't a loving, cozy grandma house full of cinnamon smells and soft white curtains and one person who would snuggle and coo and love up my little one as if she were an empress.
Besides that, their waiting list is formidable. I'd probably never get in anyway.
So, I've been searching and emailing and posting everywhere I can think of, asking for more infant care referrals, for nanny share ideas, for any advice I can find. I live in inner SE. Everyone tells me it's almost impossible to find day care or home care in my neighborhood. Maybe a SAHM who wants to watch a wee babe a few times a week? Or a fantastic early childhood development grad student? I don't have a choice - if I want to keep my house, I have to return to work. If I want a college savings plans and a retirement fund (both of which my employer provides, remarkably), I have to return to work. I am praying I can go down to four days per week, and that DTB can stay home one day per week, leaving three days to cover ... somehow ...
Last night, my belly was rolling like ocean waves, and I think I could feel something like a miniature shoulder curved just beneath my belly button ...
The Frightening Foray Into Infant Care
At the urging of a good friend, I decided to push past my denial that 9 weeks of pregnancy plus 12 weeks of maternity leave is an eternity, and that Mary Poppins will arrive at my doorstep just when I need her ... and I scheduled my first tour at a day care center.
I started with Providence Wee Care, which was recommended by several mamas, and is part of our hospital system. They accept children of Providence employees first, and then siblings of enrolled children, and then new, non-Providence children. But I had to start somewhere, so away I went. I got lost; I took the wrong elevator; I ended up at the back door of the center, in an anonymous hallway, peering through the security-controlled glass door at a group of other touring parents who looked at me blankly. Finally, someone at the front desk opened the door via remote control, and I edged into the tour, which had already started.
I felt conspicuous, and bewildered, and overwhelmed. The infant room seemed so ... sterile. In personality, not cleanliness, though it was inarguably spotless. It was sparkling clean, quiet, and spacious, but keep in mind - I have never been to a daycare center. My only experience with daycare was a very brief time as very young child, which went very, very poorly until my mother yanked me out after they forgot to pick me up at kindergarten. All I remember is being forced to eat split pea soup that I promptly threw up, and the terrifying prospect of enforced naps in a long row with strange kids. So I have no frame of reference. I don't know what to expect, or how it should feel. Wee Care was ... fine. But to me, right then, in my anxiety,. it didn't feel cozy, or loving, or stimulating. Maybe it was nap time - the lights were off. Or maybe they had them off because it was a hot day, and there was enough dim light from the windows. Maybe it was good that it was so very quiet, even though all the babies were awake, but I expected more energy in the room. In any case, I trailed along as the tour left the infant rooms, and traveled down the hall to peer inside the preschool rooms, which were more bustling and colorful ... later, I asked to see the infant room again, and met a wonderfully nice lady who had a cute little one on her lap, and it all seemed - well - fine. But not the slice of heaven I needed right then.
I can't really explain how I felt, and I don't mean to place judgment on day care in general, or even Wee Care, not at all. But I panicked. I wanted to cry. I just couldn't imagine bringing my own tiny baby to any place that wasn't a loving, cozy grandma house full of cinnamon smells and soft white curtains and one person who would snuggle and coo and love up my little one as if she were an empress.
Besides that, their waiting list is formidable. I'd probably never get in anyway.
So, I've been searching and emailing and posting everywhere I can think of, asking for more infant care referrals, for nanny share ideas, for any advice I can find. I live in inner SE. Everyone tells me it's almost impossible to find day care or home care in my neighborhood. Maybe a SAHM who wants to watch a wee babe a few times a week? Or a fantastic early childhood development grad student? I don't have a choice - if I want to keep my house, I have to return to work. If I want a college savings plans and a retirement fund (both of which my employer provides, remarkably), I have to return to work. I am praying I can go down to four days per week, and that DTB can stay home one day per week, leaving three days to cover ... somehow ...
Last night, my belly was rolling like ocean waves, and I think I could feel something like a miniature shoulder curved just beneath my belly button ...
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Day ~199! Week 30
I had a fabulous time at the coast last week ... for those following along, yes, that means everything with the tests came out just fine. I not only had another Non Stress Test, which she passed with flying colors, but my ever-thorough doc ordered a second ultrasound just so we could "take a peek" and count her movements. I was secretly really excited that I was getting a second ultrasound! Oh, how I have wanted to see the shape of her head and watch her legs move again! They planned to watch her for an hour - but after five minutes, the technician said, "She already has all the points she needs! She's moving like crazy in there ..." Apparently, they forgot to tell me that I have an anterior placenta (meaning, it's at the front of my belly) and those extra inches of padding can make it hard to feel gentler movements. Everything measured perfectly (though her head measured 30 weeks, not 28 - she takes after her mama - let's hope she can get through that passageway down there!), the four chambers of her heart were "beautiful," we saw her legs swinging and feet kicking, her mouth and lips opening and closing. It was lovely. My mom was with me, and was speechless, marveling at all of it. DTB rushed over as soon as the ultrasound was ordered, and I was so sad that they went so quickly - he missed it. The disappointment on his face! It made me love him even more.
The technician gave baby her "first A+" and sent me on my way. All my blood work came back normal. And so, it was off to the coast for 7 days with my very best girlfriends, their husbands, and their babies!
I have been one of a foursome known as "The Girls" for as long as I can remember. We met via our parents in kindergarten - they were in the morning class, and I was in the afternoon class, but we shared a special chart of gold stars on the classroom wall ... we were all advanced readers. We stayed best friends through elementary school, junior high, and the perils of high school ... we stayed best friends even after we all went away to different colleges, scattered across the country. (Thank goodness email has just barely been invented ... we braved the new world of Pine electronic mail together, between postcards). We were in each other's weddings, and lately, we've been at each other's baby showers. Miss Belly will be the fourth baby born to The Girls ... and L is due with her second just 6 weeks later!
While Portland experienced a rare 100+ degree week, we reveled in blue skies lofted above the cliffs of the pacific northwest coast line ... played with the babies ... and me? I slept, and did a lot of nothing, and walked on the sand with DTB, and ate two scoops of ice cream at the cheese factory tour, and even watched some cable television (I miss the Food Network!). And Miss Belly? She loved the ocean air, or she loved that mama was resting, because she moved and rolled, jabbed and jumped, all week long. DTB took dozens of pictures of me, and I watched the rolling blue sea and white lacy foam racing up the sand, and let it ... all ... go.
It was perfect timing, being with the girls and their husbands, and watching them all be parents. They do it so well. It was Baby Immersion, Baby Bootcamp ... DTB was wonderful and adorable, the way he watched everything so closely. He told me he wants to be like V and R - partners in parenting, relaxed and methodical at the same time, sharing the load and laughing at the right moments.
Yesterday, upon returning to work, three people told me I looked "amazing!" and "different" and "like a new person!" Uh, yeah. That's what the first 10 day vacation in 7 years will do for a girl!
Miss Belly ... just 10 weeks to go! (Unless you're early!) Your room is still piled with things - we're picking up a dresser this weekend that your uncle J and aunt S found at a garage sale, so, very soon, all those sweet little shirts and jammies will be washed and put away. Maybe your mama will feel some small illusion of "being ready" for your grand entrance ... we're a little bit afraid of this adventure ...
I had a fabulous time at the coast last week ... for those following along, yes, that means everything with the tests came out just fine. I not only had another Non Stress Test, which she passed with flying colors, but my ever-thorough doc ordered a second ultrasound just so we could "take a peek" and count her movements. I was secretly really excited that I was getting a second ultrasound! Oh, how I have wanted to see the shape of her head and watch her legs move again! They planned to watch her for an hour - but after five minutes, the technician said, "She already has all the points she needs! She's moving like crazy in there ..." Apparently, they forgot to tell me that I have an anterior placenta (meaning, it's at the front of my belly) and those extra inches of padding can make it hard to feel gentler movements. Everything measured perfectly (though her head measured 30 weeks, not 28 - she takes after her mama - let's hope she can get through that passageway down there!), the four chambers of her heart were "beautiful," we saw her legs swinging and feet kicking, her mouth and lips opening and closing. It was lovely. My mom was with me, and was speechless, marveling at all of it. DTB rushed over as soon as the ultrasound was ordered, and I was so sad that they went so quickly - he missed it. The disappointment on his face! It made me love him even more.
The technician gave baby her "first A+" and sent me on my way. All my blood work came back normal. And so, it was off to the coast for 7 days with my very best girlfriends, their husbands, and their babies!
I have been one of a foursome known as "The Girls" for as long as I can remember. We met via our parents in kindergarten - they were in the morning class, and I was in the afternoon class, but we shared a special chart of gold stars on the classroom wall ... we were all advanced readers. We stayed best friends through elementary school, junior high, and the perils of high school ... we stayed best friends even after we all went away to different colleges, scattered across the country. (Thank goodness email has just barely been invented ... we braved the new world of Pine electronic mail together, between postcards). We were in each other's weddings, and lately, we've been at each other's baby showers. Miss Belly will be the fourth baby born to The Girls ... and L is due with her second just 6 weeks later!
While Portland experienced a rare 100+ degree week, we reveled in blue skies lofted above the cliffs of the pacific northwest coast line ... played with the babies ... and me? I slept, and did a lot of nothing, and walked on the sand with DTB, and ate two scoops of ice cream at the cheese factory tour, and even watched some cable television (I miss the Food Network!). And Miss Belly? She loved the ocean air, or she loved that mama was resting, because she moved and rolled, jabbed and jumped, all week long. DTB took dozens of pictures of me, and I watched the rolling blue sea and white lacy foam racing up the sand, and let it ... all ... go.
It was perfect timing, being with the girls and their husbands, and watching them all be parents. They do it so well. It was Baby Immersion, Baby Bootcamp ... DTB was wonderful and adorable, the way he watched everything so closely. He told me he wants to be like V and R - partners in parenting, relaxed and methodical at the same time, sharing the load and laughing at the right moments.
Yesterday, upon returning to work, three people told me I looked "amazing!" and "different" and "like a new person!" Uh, yeah. That's what the first 10 day vacation in 7 years will do for a girl!
Miss Belly ... just 10 weeks to go! (Unless you're early!) Your room is still piled with things - we're picking up a dresser this weekend that your uncle J and aunt S found at a garage sale, so, very soon, all those sweet little shirts and jammies will be washed and put away. Maybe your mama will feel some small illusion of "being ready" for your grand entrance ... we're a little bit afraid of this adventure ...
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Day ~185
Saturday morning, I went to yoga as usual. When I got home, I sat down to catch up on some emails, and suddenly became so very, very tired ... I actually got into bed and fell asleep for two hours! Take note: I never, ever nap. I am a night owl. And if I do lie down, I always lie down on the couch. The bed is for sleeping at night. But Saturday ... every cell in my body told me to go back to bed and sleep. So I did.
I was tired again Sunday, tired again Monday, tired again Tuesday. And Miss Belly, along with my tiredness, stopped moving around as often and as vigorously. So on Wednesday, getting increasingly worried, I went into the doctor's office. Blood pressure - perfect. Temperature - perfect. Lung sounds - perfect. Baby heart beat - perfect. So what was wrong? Was it sudden-onset third trimester symptoms? Something else? The doc, wonderful and compassionate as always, decided it would be "reasonable" to send my over to the hospital for a "Non-Stress Test." Oh, how hilriously named could it be!
So, I headed straight over, and walked into the maternity ward, and they put me into a quiet room with a nice, soft hospital bed, and strapped two soft belts around me, with round discs the size of coasters placed just so to hear Miss Belly's heart. And there we rested, for two whole hours. Her heart beat filled the room with its swishswish sound, and when she moved - she did move a few times - it echoed with a scratchy rumble. The monitor gently churned out a grid with the zaggy blue line that showed each beat.
Once - just once - the swishswishswish halted, stammered ... and stopped. I sat up in bed a little. Looked at the screen. Yup - the blue line dropped in a long V to the bottom of the grid. And then, swishswishswish, she picked right back up again. I called the nurse. She said she'd seen the same thing (they were monitoring everything from another room) - that is was probably totally normal - she was probably playing with cord. But she'd page my doc, and talk it over with him.
Long story short - they decided that although it really wasn;t too worrisome, and everything else on the test looked fine, we should test again. If there is another "variable," we'll do an ultrasound. If not - we'll proceed as normal.
Yes - everyone has recommended that I chug some orange juice ... drink ice water ... lie down ... play music ... none of it makes Miss Belly jump into action. She's given me a few kicks today - not as many, and definitely not as strong. My belly hasn't really jumped, I don't feel any rolling around or jabs. Just a few pokes, and few vague motions, a few times per day.
Miss Belly - are you just busy growing? I wish you could tell me that you were doing just fine ... I wonder if I should ask for an ultrasound anyway, just to ease my mind and to see you again.
Saturday, we leave for a week's vacation at the coast. Hopefully, my mind will be at ease by then, and both of us can rest, breathe the sea air, and grow ...
Saturday morning, I went to yoga as usual. When I got home, I sat down to catch up on some emails, and suddenly became so very, very tired ... I actually got into bed and fell asleep for two hours! Take note: I never, ever nap. I am a night owl. And if I do lie down, I always lie down on the couch. The bed is for sleeping at night. But Saturday ... every cell in my body told me to go back to bed and sleep. So I did.
I was tired again Sunday, tired again Monday, tired again Tuesday. And Miss Belly, along with my tiredness, stopped moving around as often and as vigorously. So on Wednesday, getting increasingly worried, I went into the doctor's office. Blood pressure - perfect. Temperature - perfect. Lung sounds - perfect. Baby heart beat - perfect. So what was wrong? Was it sudden-onset third trimester symptoms? Something else? The doc, wonderful and compassionate as always, decided it would be "reasonable" to send my over to the hospital for a "Non-Stress Test." Oh, how hilriously named could it be!
So, I headed straight over, and walked into the maternity ward, and they put me into a quiet room with a nice, soft hospital bed, and strapped two soft belts around me, with round discs the size of coasters placed just so to hear Miss Belly's heart. And there we rested, for two whole hours. Her heart beat filled the room with its swishswish sound, and when she moved - she did move a few times - it echoed with a scratchy rumble. The monitor gently churned out a grid with the zaggy blue line that showed each beat.
Once - just once - the swishswishswish halted, stammered ... and stopped. I sat up in bed a little. Looked at the screen. Yup - the blue line dropped in a long V to the bottom of the grid. And then, swishswishswish, she picked right back up again. I called the nurse. She said she'd seen the same thing (they were monitoring everything from another room) - that is was probably totally normal - she was probably playing with cord. But she'd page my doc, and talk it over with him.
Long story short - they decided that although it really wasn;t too worrisome, and everything else on the test looked fine, we should test again. If there is another "variable," we'll do an ultrasound. If not - we'll proceed as normal.
Yes - everyone has recommended that I chug some orange juice ... drink ice water ... lie down ... play music ... none of it makes Miss Belly jump into action. She's given me a few kicks today - not as many, and definitely not as strong. My belly hasn't really jumped, I don't feel any rolling around or jabs. Just a few pokes, and few vague motions, a few times per day.
Miss Belly - are you just busy growing? I wish you could tell me that you were doing just fine ... I wonder if I should ask for an ultrasound anyway, just to ease my mind and to see you again.
Saturday, we leave for a week's vacation at the coast. Hopefully, my mind will be at ease by then, and both of us can rest, breathe the sea air, and grow ...
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