Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
good shame
In an effort to spur the return of my vegetarian mojo, I am reading Jonathan Safran Foer's new work, Eating Animals. So far, it is a brilliant read & I have already found myself eyeing the bag of shrimp in the freezer with suspicion.
I found this gem on page 40:
"And nothing inspires as much shame as being a parent. Children confront us with our paradoxes and hypocrisies, and we are exposed. You need to find an answer for every why --Why do we do this? Why don't we do that? -- and often there isn't a good one. So you say, simply, because. Or you tell a story that you know isn't true. And whether or not your face reddens, you blush. The shame of parenthood --which is a good shame -- is that we want our children to be more whole than we are, to have satisfactory answers. My son not only inspired me to reconsider what kind of eating animal I would be, but shamed me into reconsideration."
I found this gem on page 40:
"And nothing inspires as much shame as being a parent. Children confront us with our paradoxes and hypocrisies, and we are exposed. You need to find an answer for every why --Why do we do this? Why don't we do that? -- and often there isn't a good one. So you say, simply, because. Or you tell a story that you know isn't true. And whether or not your face reddens, you blush. The shame of parenthood --which is a good shame -- is that we want our children to be more whole than we are, to have satisfactory answers. My son not only inspired me to reconsider what kind of eating animal I would be, but shamed me into reconsideration."
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
cio considered
I realize that I complain about our various sleep issues an awful lot. And there is no dearth of advice flowing in from very kind, concerned & well-meaning friends, some of which have advised that it may be in both mine & X's best interests to just suck it up and try CIO (cry it out). My knee-jerk response is to reject such advice flat out, without even the briefest appraisal. My entire being viscerally rejects the very notion -- I shudder to imagine listening to my baby crying for hours on end, or even just a few unattended moments. It just seems wrong to me.
But recently, faced with an increasingly complicated sleep situation & enduring a permanent state of exhaustion, I have begun to engage in a more serious examination of what it means to let your baby cry it out, why proponents believe it is a perfectly harmless practice & why many refuse to even entertain the idea whatsoever. I realize that by jotting my conclusions here, I am straying into territory where many may perceive me as being somewhat judgmental. While I risk seeming sanctimonious, I feel compelled to proceed nonetheless. This blog has always been a place where I work out my thoughts & feelings concerning various subjects (i.e. I may never have had a baby had it not been for a stupid blog post!). Or, as I have been known to say: how can I know what I think until I see what I say?
I want to qualify my remarks first, however, by stating that while I ultimately reject CIO as a viable method for my family, I enjoy particular circumstances that do not require me to consider it with any real seriousness. I do not have a demanding career that requires a great deal of time & attention, nor is my partner irritated to have our little monster share the marital bed. I am tired, yes, but it is not unbearable. It is possible that were my situation different, I might be making different decisions. I would like to believe, however, that were I to employ CIO, I would view it as a least-bad option (if I considered uninterrupted sleep absolutely necessary) & not attempt to justify it's use to myself in order to make myself feel better.
But the truth is, much of the pro-CIO literature strikes me as somewhat defensive. You get the sense in reading it that many of the parents that employ this technique are aware that what they are doing goes against their very nature & instincts, and yet they persist because they have determined that the short-term gains make it "worth it." As M is wont to point out, there is a multi-million-dollar publishing industry devoted to helping parents solve their baby's "sleep problems" (I should note here that night waking is a perfectly natural thing for an infant to do, so labeling it a "problem" is a problem in itself). But the other "problem" these books exist to solve is that of the guilt feelings that often result in parents who must employ this harsh technique. I understand that there are times in life when terrible trade-offs must be made -when you must choose between two less-than-desirable actions in order to achieve a goal (getting more sleep). But when you make a choice to abandon your child & let them cry, is it really necessary to justify your actions & attempt to convince yourself that what you are doing is perfectly okay?
And yet the justifications abound. I have noticed several primary arguments from proponents of CIO. I would break the main arguments into the following categories:
The Health Argument
The "Life is Tough" Argument
The "I cried it out & I turned out Okay" Argument
The Utilitarian Argument (AKA "It works!").
First, The Health Argument: I have heard it said that waking often at night is just as bad for the health of the baby as it is for the parent. Thus, leaving your baby to cry it out in order to train him to sleep through the night may be the better option than doing nothing to curtail their wakefulness. Besides the fact that I cannot find any good literature whatsoever to back up this claim, I cannot also accept as fact the notion that simply because a baby is not being comforted by a parent frequently at night means that the baby is sleeping soundly & utterly undisturbed. The whole purpose of CIO is to teach your baby to comfort himself upon waking at night. This does not mean he is no longer waking, he is just tossing & turning & fussing & figuring it out for himself. In addition, my baby is not suffering for his wakefulness -I am, most certainly, but whenever he sniffs or snuffles or grunts or starts to toss about, I am there at the ready with a breast to comfort him. I would even argue that he seldom fully wakes at all. I certainly see no signs during his waking hours that he is suffering on account of our frequent night nursing routine. I think were it causing him trouble it would be apparent.
I should also note that many adults (myself included) do not sleep entirely through the night undisturbed. Expecting no night wakefulness of an infant -or anyone, for that matter -is an unrealistic expectation. In my esteem, labeling night wakefulness "unhealthy" is nothing less than unhelpful.
The second primary argument that I hear all too often -The "Life is Tough" Argument - basically suggests that kids need to learn that there are disappointments in life & that they cannot always have what they want. When your baby is screaming & crying for you as you attempt to "sleep train" her, she is ultimately just trying to manipulate you & if you are a sucker & give in you are teaching your child that there are no limits on her behavior. Now, I don't know about you, but I am fairly certain that X will have plenty of bitter lessons in disappointment during his (hopefully) long lifetime. His education in the ways of the world -in all it's wonder & also, in all it's brutality & coldness -will come soon enough. I am not so sure I want his first major disappointments to come by my hand, although I am certain plenty will.
M & I often discuss how we are desirous that our home be a little utopia, insofar as we are able to make it so. Instead of mirroring the insensibility & hostility of the world outside, we hope to be a refuge from it for our children. In fact, when X does face whatever disappointments await him, that is precisely when I want to be there to comfort him. Teaching your child that the world is an awful place by behaving awfully and leaving him to cry, uncared for & unattended to, seems to me a terrible first education.
Thirdly, I hear way too many people use The "I cried it out & I turned out Okay" Argument & I always want to ask them: "Compared to who?" It takes a lot of balls to advance this argument -it assumes that the speaker thinks rather highly of themselves such that they would want to hold themselves up as an ideal to which others might wish to aspire. I for one cried it out as a very small infant (my mother thought it was something she had to do?) & I cannot with confidence make that claim. Sure, I am not a complete wreck, but I can be really impatient, I turn quickly to rage, I have had a tendency to drink rather too much at times (all of which have been shown to be outcomes in adults who were subjected to prolonged crying as infants), & I am certain I could have turned out better had I been nurtured more consistently as a child (sorry, mom).
I have also heard a lot of anecdotal evidence thrown around, i.e."I know this one kid who cried it out and 'he seems really well-adjusted,'" or "My friend cried it out and is now a grown 21 year old woman & she's 'perfectly happy.'" The thing that always strikes me first when I hear these assertions is that it is sometimes quite difficult to tell whether or not someone is in tip-top mental form. I cannot tell you how many people I have met that seemed "perfectly happy" on the surface & after getting to know them it became apparent that they were anything but.
The last argument I hear most frequently is The Utilitarian Argument. "It works." Yes, CIO is very effective at getting your child to sleep through the night. But since when is whether or not something works the barometer by which we gauge whether or not something is right or wrong?! Do the ends justify the means in all aspects of parenting? I can think of plenty of methods for gaining financial freedom that would "work," none of which are are legal or ethical, however. What is the true cost of this cheap ticket to nighttime freedom?
My gut feeling is that the cost is dear, to both the child & the parent. Parents go against their nature & instinct when they abandon their babies and leave them to cry. Most know this to be true, which is why CIO is described in such traumatic terms by many of them. In my brief study this week, I have read terrible tales of mothers & fathers crouched outside their baby's bedrooms, sweating, anxious, watching the clock & waiting for the appointed time when they can finally go to the screaming, terrified child on the other side of the door & lend them a little temporary comfort before abandoning them again & starting the whole madness over. One friend told me that she let her daughter cry it out for all of five minutes, and that she will never in all her life forget the sight of her baby's frightened, shivering, confused & hurt little body when she finally went in to her. In one post I read online, the parents agonized while their baby cried for hours, finally vomiting on the 3rd & 4th night. Their pediatrician told them that vomiting is common when babies get that upset and that they "should not project their fears & anxiety onto the baby"(because lord knows the baby has no human sensibility?! -he's a little amphibian, after all?!) and that they needed to persist in their efforts if they ever wanted to get any sleep. The stories I read are horrible -even the so-called "success stories."
What are we teaching our children when we let them cry it out, alone in the dark of their rooms? -are we teaching them that life is tough & that the world is a lonely, terrible place & it is high time they got used to it? -or are we teaching them that we don't really care for them when they need it most? - that we ultimately cannot be trusted? What happens to a mother that even temporarily shuts down her sensitivity to her baby's cries? How does she do it? -and at what cost to her connection with her infant? -I adore that little light of trust & love in X's eyes & I do not wish to ever be a party to anything that would snuff it out -even just a little bit.
Obviously, I have taken a very firm stance in opposition to CIO. It just does not seem to be a method in tune with our nature as human beings. There is a reason why even parents that find they simply must sleep train their infants do not enjoy the process & feel terribly about it. It is because it is not the best thing for the infant, the parent or the relationship between the two. Sure, "it works," but there are hidden costs and I am just not sure I want to pay that kind of price.
I suppose that it is possible that my sleeplessness is like some kind of hair-shirt I am wearing - that in order to feel like my immense sacrifice is worth it, I need to believe there is some sort of reward for me in mama-heaven --that what I am doing must be better for X since it is so costly to me in terms of lost sleep ("no pain, no gain"). By refusing to sleep train X, am I engaging in some sort of voluntary, but completely unnecessary, mortification of the body? I tend to think not. While I of course can't be 100% certain that letting your baby cry it out is harmful, it is increasingly hard for me to imagine how it cannot be. Humans are sensitive, communal, needy creatures. When my friends & loved ones suffer & cry, it behooves me to lend whatever comfort I can. Cutting myself off from signs of hurt & fear in others goes against my natural instinct, not just as a mother, but as a friend, a wife, & a citizen of planet earth.
But recently, faced with an increasingly complicated sleep situation & enduring a permanent state of exhaustion, I have begun to engage in a more serious examination of what it means to let your baby cry it out, why proponents believe it is a perfectly harmless practice & why many refuse to even entertain the idea whatsoever. I realize that by jotting my conclusions here, I am straying into territory where many may perceive me as being somewhat judgmental. While I risk seeming sanctimonious, I feel compelled to proceed nonetheless. This blog has always been a place where I work out my thoughts & feelings concerning various subjects (i.e. I may never have had a baby had it not been for a stupid blog post!). Or, as I have been known to say: how can I know what I think until I see what I say?
I want to qualify my remarks first, however, by stating that while I ultimately reject CIO as a viable method for my family, I enjoy particular circumstances that do not require me to consider it with any real seriousness. I do not have a demanding career that requires a great deal of time & attention, nor is my partner irritated to have our little monster share the marital bed. I am tired, yes, but it is not unbearable. It is possible that were my situation different, I might be making different decisions. I would like to believe, however, that were I to employ CIO, I would view it as a least-bad option (if I considered uninterrupted sleep absolutely necessary) & not attempt to justify it's use to myself in order to make myself feel better.
But the truth is, much of the pro-CIO literature strikes me as somewhat defensive. You get the sense in reading it that many of the parents that employ this technique are aware that what they are doing goes against their very nature & instincts, and yet they persist because they have determined that the short-term gains make it "worth it." As M is wont to point out, there is a multi-million-dollar publishing industry devoted to helping parents solve their baby's "sleep problems" (I should note here that night waking is a perfectly natural thing for an infant to do, so labeling it a "problem" is a problem in itself). But the other "problem" these books exist to solve is that of the guilt feelings that often result in parents who must employ this harsh technique. I understand that there are times in life when terrible trade-offs must be made -when you must choose between two less-than-desirable actions in order to achieve a goal (getting more sleep). But when you make a choice to abandon your child & let them cry, is it really necessary to justify your actions & attempt to convince yourself that what you are doing is perfectly okay?
And yet the justifications abound. I have noticed several primary arguments from proponents of CIO. I would break the main arguments into the following categories:
The Health Argument
The "Life is Tough" Argument
The "I cried it out & I turned out Okay" Argument
The Utilitarian Argument (AKA "It works!").
First, The Health Argument: I have heard it said that waking often at night is just as bad for the health of the baby as it is for the parent. Thus, leaving your baby to cry it out in order to train him to sleep through the night may be the better option than doing nothing to curtail their wakefulness. Besides the fact that I cannot find any good literature whatsoever to back up this claim, I cannot also accept as fact the notion that simply because a baby is not being comforted by a parent frequently at night means that the baby is sleeping soundly & utterly undisturbed. The whole purpose of CIO is to teach your baby to comfort himself upon waking at night. This does not mean he is no longer waking, he is just tossing & turning & fussing & figuring it out for himself. In addition, my baby is not suffering for his wakefulness -I am, most certainly, but whenever he sniffs or snuffles or grunts or starts to toss about, I am there at the ready with a breast to comfort him. I would even argue that he seldom fully wakes at all. I certainly see no signs during his waking hours that he is suffering on account of our frequent night nursing routine. I think were it causing him trouble it would be apparent.
I should also note that many adults (myself included) do not sleep entirely through the night undisturbed. Expecting no night wakefulness of an infant -or anyone, for that matter -is an unrealistic expectation. In my esteem, labeling night wakefulness "unhealthy" is nothing less than unhelpful.
The second primary argument that I hear all too often -The "Life is Tough" Argument - basically suggests that kids need to learn that there are disappointments in life & that they cannot always have what they want. When your baby is screaming & crying for you as you attempt to "sleep train" her, she is ultimately just trying to manipulate you & if you are a sucker & give in you are teaching your child that there are no limits on her behavior. Now, I don't know about you, but I am fairly certain that X will have plenty of bitter lessons in disappointment during his (hopefully) long lifetime. His education in the ways of the world -in all it's wonder & also, in all it's brutality & coldness -will come soon enough. I am not so sure I want his first major disappointments to come by my hand, although I am certain plenty will.
M & I often discuss how we are desirous that our home be a little utopia, insofar as we are able to make it so. Instead of mirroring the insensibility & hostility of the world outside, we hope to be a refuge from it for our children. In fact, when X does face whatever disappointments await him, that is precisely when I want to be there to comfort him. Teaching your child that the world is an awful place by behaving awfully and leaving him to cry, uncared for & unattended to, seems to me a terrible first education.
Thirdly, I hear way too many people use The "I cried it out & I turned out Okay" Argument & I always want to ask them: "Compared to who?" It takes a lot of balls to advance this argument -it assumes that the speaker thinks rather highly of themselves such that they would want to hold themselves up as an ideal to which others might wish to aspire. I for one cried it out as a very small infant (my mother thought it was something she had to do?) & I cannot with confidence make that claim. Sure, I am not a complete wreck, but I can be really impatient, I turn quickly to rage, I have had a tendency to drink rather too much at times (all of which have been shown to be outcomes in adults who were subjected to prolonged crying as infants), & I am certain I could have turned out better had I been nurtured more consistently as a child (sorry, mom).
I have also heard a lot of anecdotal evidence thrown around, i.e."I know this one kid who cried it out and 'he seems really well-adjusted,'" or "My friend cried it out and is now a grown 21 year old woman & she's 'perfectly happy.'" The thing that always strikes me first when I hear these assertions is that it is sometimes quite difficult to tell whether or not someone is in tip-top mental form. I cannot tell you how many people I have met that seemed "perfectly happy" on the surface & after getting to know them it became apparent that they were anything but.
The last argument I hear most frequently is The Utilitarian Argument. "It works." Yes, CIO is very effective at getting your child to sleep through the night. But since when is whether or not something works the barometer by which we gauge whether or not something is right or wrong?! Do the ends justify the means in all aspects of parenting? I can think of plenty of methods for gaining financial freedom that would "work," none of which are are legal or ethical, however. What is the true cost of this cheap ticket to nighttime freedom?
My gut feeling is that the cost is dear, to both the child & the parent. Parents go against their nature & instinct when they abandon their babies and leave them to cry. Most know this to be true, which is why CIO is described in such traumatic terms by many of them. In my brief study this week, I have read terrible tales of mothers & fathers crouched outside their baby's bedrooms, sweating, anxious, watching the clock & waiting for the appointed time when they can finally go to the screaming, terrified child on the other side of the door & lend them a little temporary comfort before abandoning them again & starting the whole madness over. One friend told me that she let her daughter cry it out for all of five minutes, and that she will never in all her life forget the sight of her baby's frightened, shivering, confused & hurt little body when she finally went in to her. In one post I read online, the parents agonized while their baby cried for hours, finally vomiting on the 3rd & 4th night. Their pediatrician told them that vomiting is common when babies get that upset and that they "should not project their fears & anxiety onto the baby"(because lord knows the baby has no human sensibility?! -he's a little amphibian, after all?!) and that they needed to persist in their efforts if they ever wanted to get any sleep. The stories I read are horrible -even the so-called "success stories."
What are we teaching our children when we let them cry it out, alone in the dark of their rooms? -are we teaching them that life is tough & that the world is a lonely, terrible place & it is high time they got used to it? -or are we teaching them that we don't really care for them when they need it most? - that we ultimately cannot be trusted? What happens to a mother that even temporarily shuts down her sensitivity to her baby's cries? How does she do it? -and at what cost to her connection with her infant? -I adore that little light of trust & love in X's eyes & I do not wish to ever be a party to anything that would snuff it out -even just a little bit.
Obviously, I have taken a very firm stance in opposition to CIO. It just does not seem to be a method in tune with our nature as human beings. There is a reason why even parents that find they simply must sleep train their infants do not enjoy the process & feel terribly about it. It is because it is not the best thing for the infant, the parent or the relationship between the two. Sure, "it works," but there are hidden costs and I am just not sure I want to pay that kind of price.
I suppose that it is possible that my sleeplessness is like some kind of hair-shirt I am wearing - that in order to feel like my immense sacrifice is worth it, I need to believe there is some sort of reward for me in mama-heaven --that what I am doing must be better for X since it is so costly to me in terms of lost sleep ("no pain, no gain"). By refusing to sleep train X, am I engaging in some sort of voluntary, but completely unnecessary, mortification of the body? I tend to think not. While I of course can't be 100% certain that letting your baby cry it out is harmful, it is increasingly hard for me to imagine how it cannot be. Humans are sensitive, communal, needy creatures. When my friends & loved ones suffer & cry, it behooves me to lend whatever comfort I can. Cutting myself off from signs of hurt & fear in others goes against my natural instinct, not just as a mother, but as a friend, a wife, & a citizen of planet earth.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
apple sauce
We canned 15 pints of plain old apple sauce this afternoon, using 30lbs of cheap Jonagolds that we fetched in Hood River yesterday. X is finally starting to eat like he means it, so we figured a stash of apple sauce would come in handy in the months to come. He didn't seem to appreciate his first few bites, however. Hopefully apple sauce is an acquired taste....
Saturday, November 21, 2009
elowah falls
How is it possible that we have lived in Portland all this time & yet we discover new & amazing gorge hikes on a seemingly monthly basis? Elowah Falls was this month's surprise. And it will definitely be a new regular route, especially for out-of-town guests who want a somewhat quick/easy hike to an amazing, towering fall, but don't want to deal with the massive Multnomah Falls crowds (that place is more like a mall than a natural scenic area).
Friday, November 20, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
tripping out
There are a few rules everyone should follow when considering using psychedelic drugs (not like I know from real life, just from reading a lot of books on the subject):
Don't drink alcohol. It will totally mess things up.
Don't do it when you're depressed, in a weird mood, or have to take a test or go to a demanding job the following morning.
Don't do it with people you don't 100% trust. Strangers will totally freak you out (so I hear).
The reason I mention it --I have been thinking lately that having a second child can be considered in somewhat similar terms --i.e. you need to be really careful how you time it, otherwise things could go terribly wrong & the whole ordeal could turn into a super shitty trip.
This is why I have informed M that we need to do #2 before the 2012 elections come around. The thought of enduring pregnancy, birth & those tender, scary, early infancy months during a (god-forbid-it!) Palin/Beck administration just sounds positively nauseating. It would be impossible to enjoy my trip if I had to worry about the fate of the planet at every turn. Not that I don't do a good deal of worrying as is, but at least I feel like someone with common sense & a decent moral compass is at the helm. All that hope is still sticking around, at least for me if not for the scads of idiotic so-called Independents who shift with the wind.
So, if we're going to avoid going for it during a year of political upheaval (and before the possibility of new & god-awful leadership) this means we'd need to get started sometime around a year from now. Gasp. Really?
Don't drink alcohol. It will totally mess things up.
Don't do it when you're depressed, in a weird mood, or have to take a test or go to a demanding job the following morning.
Don't do it with people you don't 100% trust. Strangers will totally freak you out (so I hear).
The reason I mention it --I have been thinking lately that having a second child can be considered in somewhat similar terms --i.e. you need to be really careful how you time it, otherwise things could go terribly wrong & the whole ordeal could turn into a super shitty trip.
This is why I have informed M that we need to do #2 before the 2012 elections come around. The thought of enduring pregnancy, birth & those tender, scary, early infancy months during a (god-forbid-it!) Palin/Beck administration just sounds positively nauseating. It would be impossible to enjoy my trip if I had to worry about the fate of the planet at every turn. Not that I don't do a good deal of worrying as is, but at least I feel like someone with common sense & a decent moral compass is at the helm. All that hope is still sticking around, at least for me if not for the scads of idiotic so-called Independents who shift with the wind.
So, if we're going to avoid going for it during a year of political upheaval (and before the possibility of new & god-awful leadership) this means we'd need to get started sometime around a year from now. Gasp. Really?
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
like mother, like son
It is going on midnight & here I sit, as I do most nights, usually blogging or facebooking or surfing the Huffpost or crocheting or reading or doing just about anything other than sleeping. It is stupid, I know. I am worn out from these many sleepless months & I desperately need the rest. On the few random occasions when I have accidentally fallen asleep at 8PM while nursing X down I feel magnificent the following day. I tell myself that I must make the same mistake again -and as soon as possible. But it hardly ever happens. I can be completely dragged out & wilting & sore & tired, and yet I will resist sleep until the last.
Part of my current malaise is owing to the fact that I have so little personal time. It seems the only hours available to me are these dark & lonely ones when my baby -along with the rest of the world - is sleeping. If I gave up these moments, what would be left to me? Never mind that these are not the most enjoyable hours -I have no energy left at the end of the day, which is why I so seldom engage in any meaningful activity. But it is time to myself, nonetheless, and so I treasure it.
But I have always been a little sleepless to some extent. Sleep has never come easy to me. Even when behave responsibly and go to bed "on time," I often pass several hours before sleep comes, just staring at the ceiling & letting my thoughts trip along from one topic to the next. A favorite late night mind game involves selecting a particular phase or period from my past & meditating upon it until I have returned a few lost faces or random moments to memory. I surprise myself sometimes by what I am able to recall. Usually I freak out a little when sleep fails me utterly. That is the worst --midnight panic attacks caused by a failure to relax are hardly restful, as one might imagine.
And so, I shouldn't fault X when he slips into his newest routine that I like to call "refusal to sleep." It is a pattern that is just beginning to show itself --a pattern I hope morphs & changes & disappears. But a part of me fears it is in his genes. Whenever he seems visibly tired & ready for sleep, I go through our usual motions -we lie down in bed, cover up, nurse, etc. He used to drop off to sleep fairly quickly (excepting when he's teething). Recently, he has begun to resist the very concept of sleep. When I try to nurse him, he turns his head away, arches his back & cries pitifully & it takes an awful lot of patience & a good deal of time to get him settled & asleep. Sometimes I just give up completely and send him back to the living room to play with his Papa for a while until he seems ready. But the same routine ensues when he returns to bed, sometimes even worse. Most often he tires himself out from crying in my arms & finally gives in, nurses through a few choked sobs & then drifts off to sleep. The great irony is that I have always been vehemently opposed to CIO (cry it out) but it seems X is determined to cry it out regardless!
I hope & pray this is yet another phases & that someday soon he won't recoil from sleep but will welcome it instead. But how can I hope that for him, when I refuse it for myself? Perhaps I should model the behavior I would like to see. Perhaps....
Part of my current malaise is owing to the fact that I have so little personal time. It seems the only hours available to me are these dark & lonely ones when my baby -along with the rest of the world - is sleeping. If I gave up these moments, what would be left to me? Never mind that these are not the most enjoyable hours -I have no energy left at the end of the day, which is why I so seldom engage in any meaningful activity. But it is time to myself, nonetheless, and so I treasure it.
But I have always been a little sleepless to some extent. Sleep has never come easy to me. Even when behave responsibly and go to bed "on time," I often pass several hours before sleep comes, just staring at the ceiling & letting my thoughts trip along from one topic to the next. A favorite late night mind game involves selecting a particular phase or period from my past & meditating upon it until I have returned a few lost faces or random moments to memory. I surprise myself sometimes by what I am able to recall. Usually I freak out a little when sleep fails me utterly. That is the worst --midnight panic attacks caused by a failure to relax are hardly restful, as one might imagine.
And so, I shouldn't fault X when he slips into his newest routine that I like to call "refusal to sleep." It is a pattern that is just beginning to show itself --a pattern I hope morphs & changes & disappears. But a part of me fears it is in his genes. Whenever he seems visibly tired & ready for sleep, I go through our usual motions -we lie down in bed, cover up, nurse, etc. He used to drop off to sleep fairly quickly (excepting when he's teething). Recently, he has begun to resist the very concept of sleep. When I try to nurse him, he turns his head away, arches his back & cries pitifully & it takes an awful lot of patience & a good deal of time to get him settled & asleep. Sometimes I just give up completely and send him back to the living room to play with his Papa for a while until he seems ready. But the same routine ensues when he returns to bed, sometimes even worse. Most often he tires himself out from crying in my arms & finally gives in, nurses through a few choked sobs & then drifts off to sleep. The great irony is that I have always been vehemently opposed to CIO (cry it out) but it seems X is determined to cry it out regardless!
I hope & pray this is yet another phases & that someday soon he won't recoil from sleep but will welcome it instead. But how can I hope that for him, when I refuse it for myself? Perhaps I should model the behavior I would like to see. Perhaps....
Sunday, November 15, 2009
#2
On the way home from a long, meandering day downtown we decided to pop in at Hopworks for a pint & a sandwich. We were seated in the crazy kids section next to a family with a brand new, itty bitty baby boy. As I was admiring the wee bundle, I noticed that the father was holding a largish baby who was asleep on his shoulder. As moms tend to do, we started chatting (actually the dad noticed X's Jesus & Yoda action figures & we all had a good laugh). I asked her how old her babies were, and she told me the older had just turned 1 while the tiny baby was but 1 month old. It turns out she became pregnant when her first was only 2 months old! I asked her how she was feeling & how everything was working out, and she told me that despite the lack of sleep, she doesn't find it too difficult. She laughingly urged me to go for #2 ASAP.
It was funny, because M & I had just been discussing how we intend to time baby #2 --and yes, as of this writing, we do plan to add to our little family eventually, it is just a matter of when. M is an advocate for just going for it as soon as possible -get the baby thing over with & move on. I would like to wait a bit for a number of reasons, not least of which being my strong desire to nurse X until he is ready to wean on his own. I would hate to become pregnant & have to hasten him from the breast before he is ready. The mother I met at Hopworks indicated that was what happened to her -she had to supplement immediately because of a slow-down of production, and now her barely 1 year old was fully weaned (although she said she pumped a bottle for her eldest daily).
I think that I would like to remain fully available to X at least through his 2nd birthday, after which I would feel comfortable weaning him bit by bit as necessary. This means waiting until at least 2011 before starting this whole baby business again.
A part of me is glad for the reprieve. It is nice to have finally slimmed down & I would like to stay that way for some time. It would be wonderful to enjoy at least one decent night of sleep. I would like to resume some kind of daily exercise, either jogging or yoga. I definitely need at least one good drunk. And most of all, I am glad I am able to give X 100% of my time & attention for a while before adding the huge distraction that a little brother or sister would invariably be. There are so many excellent reasons to wait.
But another tiny part of me is almost eager to start again, to meet another little human face after the long, strange passage of pregnancy, to delight once more in those first smiles & laughs, to cradle a tender, fragile, sleeping innocent in my arms yet again. It all sounds just as amazing & wonderful as it did the first time. But in the mean time, I am enjoying getting to know a little dude named X. And that will be quite enough baby for a while.
It was funny, because M & I had just been discussing how we intend to time baby #2 --and yes, as of this writing, we do plan to add to our little family eventually, it is just a matter of when. M is an advocate for just going for it as soon as possible -get the baby thing over with & move on. I would like to wait a bit for a number of reasons, not least of which being my strong desire to nurse X until he is ready to wean on his own. I would hate to become pregnant & have to hasten him from the breast before he is ready. The mother I met at Hopworks indicated that was what happened to her -she had to supplement immediately because of a slow-down of production, and now her barely 1 year old was fully weaned (although she said she pumped a bottle for her eldest daily).
I think that I would like to remain fully available to X at least through his 2nd birthday, after which I would feel comfortable weaning him bit by bit as necessary. This means waiting until at least 2011 before starting this whole baby business again.
A part of me is glad for the reprieve. It is nice to have finally slimmed down & I would like to stay that way for some time. It would be wonderful to enjoy at least one decent night of sleep. I would like to resume some kind of daily exercise, either jogging or yoga. I definitely need at least one good drunk. And most of all, I am glad I am able to give X 100% of my time & attention for a while before adding the huge distraction that a little brother or sister would invariably be. There are so many excellent reasons to wait.
But another tiny part of me is almost eager to start again, to meet another little human face after the long, strange passage of pregnancy, to delight once more in those first smiles & laughs, to cradle a tender, fragile, sleeping innocent in my arms yet again. It all sounds just as amazing & wonderful as it did the first time. But in the mean time, I am enjoying getting to know a little dude named X. And that will be quite enough baby for a while.
Friday, November 13, 2009
advice line
I should just let him cry it out on his own.
I should put him on a schedule.
I should not try to put him on a schedule - he'll sleep in his own time.
I should give him Tylenol.
I should give him Hyland's Teething Tablets.
I should give him a little whiskey.
I should just give up on the morning nap thing.
In my Facebook world of real-time friend feedback, there is no shortage of advice on what I should do when I cannot get my little guy to fall asleep. I'm not complaining -I invite it with the statements that I make. I love to hear what others have tried -what works & what doesn't for my mom-friends & their families. There are times when someone suggests something that had not remotely occurred to me (when X had an ear-infection, in fact). But of course, there are times when I get advice that makes me shudder ("let him cry it out" always falls into this category).
But the thing I think most often whenever I complain about my lack of sleep, or X's refusal to nap, or any of the other minor complaints that accompany daily life with an infant is how very fleeting these days will seem to me from some imagined vantage point way off down the road. X's meteoric growth will one day render all this discomfort & stress nothing but a faded, distant memory. And when I ponder on this, I almost feel a tender nostalgia for all the fatigue & vexation of these tired, plodding times --all the hurried showers & the sore nipples, the hasty, truncated emails & the hunched & strained shoulders, the damp milk-stained shirts, & the sexless, sleepless nights. All these awful things take on a somewhat dreamy & romantic cast when imagined from a future that is free of them. Because when all these things are no more, so also will my baby be gone from my arms. These terrible times are also incredibly beautiful, and they are passing more swiftly than I ever thought possible.
Oh, I will still complain, no doubt. But know that all my complaints are tempered with the tiniest sense of longing that nothing ever change.
I should put him on a schedule.
I should not try to put him on a schedule - he'll sleep in his own time.
I should give him Tylenol.
I should give him Hyland's Teething Tablets.
I should give him a little whiskey.
I should just give up on the morning nap thing.
In my Facebook world of real-time friend feedback, there is no shortage of advice on what I should do when I cannot get my little guy to fall asleep. I'm not complaining -I invite it with the statements that I make. I love to hear what others have tried -what works & what doesn't for my mom-friends & their families. There are times when someone suggests something that had not remotely occurred to me (when X had an ear-infection, in fact). But of course, there are times when I get advice that makes me shudder ("let him cry it out" always falls into this category).
But the thing I think most often whenever I complain about my lack of sleep, or X's refusal to nap, or any of the other minor complaints that accompany daily life with an infant is how very fleeting these days will seem to me from some imagined vantage point way off down the road. X's meteoric growth will one day render all this discomfort & stress nothing but a faded, distant memory. And when I ponder on this, I almost feel a tender nostalgia for all the fatigue & vexation of these tired, plodding times --all the hurried showers & the sore nipples, the hasty, truncated emails & the hunched & strained shoulders, the damp milk-stained shirts, & the sexless, sleepless nights. All these awful things take on a somewhat dreamy & romantic cast when imagined from a future that is free of them. Because when all these things are no more, so also will my baby be gone from my arms. These terrible times are also incredibly beautiful, and they are passing more swiftly than I ever thought possible.
Oh, I will still complain, no doubt. But know that all my complaints are tempered with the tiniest sense of longing that nothing ever change.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
a little luck
I found out from a friend that Kaiser is offering H1N1 shots to qualifying members of the general public on a walk-in basis. No Kaiser coverage needed, you just have to either be a baby or have some crazy conditions that make you especially vulnerable. I considered my options, which are few -OHSU has no idea when they are getting it & our new clinic in Sellwood won't be able to see X until mid December. I decided to go for it.
I am tired of freaking out every time X sucks on the handle of the grocery cart or stuff his dirty fists into his mouth after a go on the playground swings. Living with fear is paralyzing and awful & I am am sick of it. I would rather endure the fear of potential insidious side effects of a tiny dose of mercury (less than 1/2 a can of tuna, I am told) than the fear of having him hooked up to a stupid feeding tube for a few days in the ICU while my breasts explode & I turn into a mother's worst nightmare. After making my decision, the worst bit to me seemed trudging to the hospital, sitting in an endless queue with a bunch of semi-sick people, & waiting, waiting, waiting....
But thankfully, that was not how it went down. I arrived, checked in, got the shot & was home within 1/2 hour tops! No wait, no lines, no coughing, nasty people to steer around. It was amazing. And the nurse was an angel. She swabbed both thighs with cleanser, adding an element of confusion, & sang a lilting little song as she stared him down & simultaneously stabbed him. It was over before he even knew it. He looked like he wanted to cry for a second, but thought better of it. She gave him a sticker, after all.
We're due for a booster sometime after the 10th of December & hopefully our new Sellwood clinic will have them in time for his 9 month appointment. I feel a little relief (although I watch him closely for adverse effects --so far nothing noticeable, except perhaps a serious refusal to sleep, but that could be just him taking after his insomniac mama). We can now move about our small world with a bit more confidence & a little less anxiety.
I am tired of freaking out every time X sucks on the handle of the grocery cart or stuff his dirty fists into his mouth after a go on the playground swings. Living with fear is paralyzing and awful & I am am sick of it. I would rather endure the fear of potential insidious side effects of a tiny dose of mercury (less than 1/2 a can of tuna, I am told) than the fear of having him hooked up to a stupid feeding tube for a few days in the ICU while my breasts explode & I turn into a mother's worst nightmare. After making my decision, the worst bit to me seemed trudging to the hospital, sitting in an endless queue with a bunch of semi-sick people, & waiting, waiting, waiting....
But thankfully, that was not how it went down. I arrived, checked in, got the shot & was home within 1/2 hour tops! No wait, no lines, no coughing, nasty people to steer around. It was amazing. And the nurse was an angel. She swabbed both thighs with cleanser, adding an element of confusion, & sang a lilting little song as she stared him down & simultaneously stabbed him. It was over before he even knew it. He looked like he wanted to cry for a second, but thought better of it. She gave him a sticker, after all.
We're due for a booster sometime after the 10th of December & hopefully our new Sellwood clinic will have them in time for his 9 month appointment. I feel a little relief (although I watch him closely for adverse effects --so far nothing noticeable, except perhaps a serious refusal to sleep, but that could be just him taking after his insomniac mama). We can now move about our small world with a bit more confidence & a little less anxiety.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
suicidal baby
Today was one of those days. X had me up most of the night again with his fuss-nurse routine (damn you, tooth!), so I wasn't exactly in top form to begin with. Add to the exhaustion the tiring fact that X requires more and more constant oversight in order to keep him from killing himself. He's not exactly on the move, but try telling him that. He can't quite crawl, but that doesn't stop him from trying. He typically hurls himself head first in whichever direction it is that he wants to go, unconcerned about the consequences...until he lands on his face & splits his perfect pink lip with his fresh new baby teeth (true story). I scooped him up, a little blob of tears & frantic wails, and I didn't notice the cascade of blood until it had a chance to smear horrifically across his face. Yikes!
I think he must have fallen backwards twice today (that big head of his gets him every time!), each time a loud thud preceding the cries by a few tense, breath abated seconds. He always recovers so quickly & looks at me in puzzlement when, wracked with mom-guilt, I try stuffing my breast in his mouth as a way to maybe make amends.
And then tonight as M & I enjoyed our dinner, X sat next to us at the table & slowly munched tiny bits of apple - or so we thought. In truth he was hoarding them all in his cheeks like a little squirrel. Suddenly, he started gasping & choking & his face turned bright red. I immediately swept the back of his mouth with my index finger & dislodged a little chunk of apple. I snatched him from his chair & clutched him madly, as if to protect him from an imminent apple attack.
"You did a good job," M told me, after the fact & once we had calmed down a little bit. It is a little hard for me to believe that I saved X's life tonight, but I guess that's what I did. It is hard to feel like I am doing a good job when my kid is nearly choking to death - or beaning himself right & left -even under my watchful eye. But I guess this is just the new routine. One day in the not-so-distant future when he falls I'll be saying shit like: "man up!" & "brush it off!" & other ridiculous & insensitive things (I am joking -this is actually a subject for another post: how much it bugs me when I see parents disrespect their kid's pain & frustration).
I think he must have fallen backwards twice today (that big head of his gets him every time!), each time a loud thud preceding the cries by a few tense, breath abated seconds. He always recovers so quickly & looks at me in puzzlement when, wracked with mom-guilt, I try stuffing my breast in his mouth as a way to maybe make amends.
And then tonight as M & I enjoyed our dinner, X sat next to us at the table & slowly munched tiny bits of apple - or so we thought. In truth he was hoarding them all in his cheeks like a little squirrel. Suddenly, he started gasping & choking & his face turned bright red. I immediately swept the back of his mouth with my index finger & dislodged a little chunk of apple. I snatched him from his chair & clutched him madly, as if to protect him from an imminent apple attack.
"You did a good job," M told me, after the fact & once we had calmed down a little bit. It is a little hard for me to believe that I saved X's life tonight, but I guess that's what I did. It is hard to feel like I am doing a good job when my kid is nearly choking to death - or beaning himself right & left -even under my watchful eye. But I guess this is just the new routine. One day in the not-so-distant future when he falls I'll be saying shit like: "man up!" & "brush it off!" & other ridiculous & insensitive things (I am joking -this is actually a subject for another post: how much it bugs me when I see parents disrespect their kid's pain & frustration).
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
shame
It's a shame that I even have to write this post. I wish it weren't so. But the fact is, X & I finally met some serious breastfeeding haters today.
I guess I should count it a minor miracle that I made it this far without any stressful confrontations regarding breastfeeding. My family is fully supportive, despite the fact that my mother only nursed for 6 months & found it rather "claustrophobic." M's family makes no bones about it. I have wantonly nursed in public without a second thought, time & time again. I have never been one to cover up -- what a nuisance that is! --While I try to be reasonably discreet, I honestly feel no compunction about exposing myself a little in the interest of feeding my baby. And thankfully, most of Portland seems to share my perspective. If anything, I tend to get smiles & nods of encouragement from those that spy us out in the grocery store or on a trail or wherever we might be. The general ethos seems to be one of tolerance & accommodation, which I appreciate immensely --and all the more now, having experienced, albeit briefly, something quite opposed.
We were in a candy store in Cannon Beach at the Oregon Coast with our friends V & K and MB, perusing the wares, considering our fudge options and weighing the pros & cons of ordering up some Elephant Ears. I was nursing X on the go in the Ergo. I didn't have the top cover on, but he was pretty tucked in & out of the way. We do this all the time. I am not sure how or when I first noticed it, but is suddenly became apparent that a middle-aged lady in some uber-hip, slutty biker chic threads & with long, straight dyed black hair was eyeing me in disgust. She had two teen aged daughters, both the spitting image (same uber-hip, slutty-biked chic threads, same dyed black hair), and a younger son who was probably around 8-10 years old. After I caught sight of her evil eye, I overheard her ordering her son to "look over there! -go over there & look that way!" -as she frantically pointed in a direction opposite of where I was standing. She had a thick Jersey-ish accent (I can't place it precisely) & was obviously a tourist. That fact became crystal clear when she loudly muttered something to her husband about how "weird these Oregonians are" -oh, she didn't use those words exactly, but she said something along the lines of: "we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto!"
Instinctively, I retreated. I went outside to wait for my friends, but noticed MB gesturing from inside that I should return. He had seen it too, I gathered, and was encouraging me not to run & hide --I had nothing to be ashamed of, so I returned to the shop & stood my ground.
Now, I am not an overly confrontational person, but if you have a problem with me, & are stupid enough to let on to me that you do, I am definitely going to try to find out what your problem is. I spent way too much time in the company of passive-aggressive Minnesotans to want to play that game. So, true to form, I continued to nurse my baby & I kept my eye trained on this woman. Whenever I could, I met her eyes. I wanted her to know that I knew she was offended. And I wanted her to know that I was not ashamed, despite her best efforts to bring me down.
We watched as the Ed-Hardy-clad family made it's purchases & we waited until they left the shop. As they passed, someone in our group somewhat loudly said something like "it's so unnatural!" or something to that effect. We were indeed being somewhat provocative, although nothing was said to them directly. They hadn't gone more than a few paces down the sidewalk, when suddenly their 8 year old son turns, runs a few steps back & hollers at us: "FUCK YOU!" Stunned, we look at each other -what in the hell was that?! I think someone quipped that the poor kid must have been bottle fed, but certainly not loud enough for him to hear since he was some distance away. "I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE HELL UP!" -he yelled again. His parents made no move to bring him to heel. He seemed to be hollering at us with their full consent & blessing. It was nuts.
I have no idea what was going on beyond what I observed first hand, but I will hazard a guess that the child was most likely shamed by his mother for being curious about breastfeeding. I am willing to bet that he was gaping at me & she made him feel embarrassed and ashamed of himself. I know that feelings of shame can often cause someone to lash out in violence against the perceived source of such complicated emotions. Thus, he was mad at me for being there -for tempting his curiosity. Maybe I am wrong about this --I have no idea, but it seems as likely an explanation as any.
I am upset by this experience on a number of levels. On the one hand, I feel violated as an Oregonian --as though some unwritten but inviolable contract that I have with my home state was horribly breached. I have no idea where these people came from, but this place they were visiting is mine, it is where I feel most comfortable, it is a place that is accepting & kind. It was as though these foreigners had the nerve to walk into my living room and insult my way of life.
But I think the most awful thing for me is how I am now forced -against my will- to imagine the world from the hater's point of view. I always knew that there were people out there who think breastfeeding is disgusting, but I never met one -- I never had anyone look at my beautiful boy & me & think "gross! -what nasty business is going on here?!" The fact that someone can look upon something so miraculous, so loving, so beautiful & intimate and instead find it vile & strange is impossible for me to comprehend. Now, when I nurse my baby, I have that other awful vision in the back of my head. I know now that some people think it is a terrible thing. And I wish like hell I could protect X from all the world's hatred. It is so horrible to me that these people would deny X something that is his everything -it is his source of nutrition & comfort & a major way in which he feels loved.
Ugh -I feel dirty. I know they are wrong, wrong, wrong -but their energy is a pollutant & it hovers over....
I guess I should count it a minor miracle that I made it this far without any stressful confrontations regarding breastfeeding. My family is fully supportive, despite the fact that my mother only nursed for 6 months & found it rather "claustrophobic." M's family makes no bones about it. I have wantonly nursed in public without a second thought, time & time again. I have never been one to cover up -- what a nuisance that is! --While I try to be reasonably discreet, I honestly feel no compunction about exposing myself a little in the interest of feeding my baby. And thankfully, most of Portland seems to share my perspective. If anything, I tend to get smiles & nods of encouragement from those that spy us out in the grocery store or on a trail or wherever we might be. The general ethos seems to be one of tolerance & accommodation, which I appreciate immensely --and all the more now, having experienced, albeit briefly, something quite opposed.
We were in a candy store in Cannon Beach at the Oregon Coast with our friends V & K and MB, perusing the wares, considering our fudge options and weighing the pros & cons of ordering up some Elephant Ears. I was nursing X on the go in the Ergo. I didn't have the top cover on, but he was pretty tucked in & out of the way. We do this all the time. I am not sure how or when I first noticed it, but is suddenly became apparent that a middle-aged lady in some uber-hip, slutty biker chic threads & with long, straight dyed black hair was eyeing me in disgust. She had two teen aged daughters, both the spitting image (same uber-hip, slutty-biked chic threads, same dyed black hair), and a younger son who was probably around 8-10 years old. After I caught sight of her evil eye, I overheard her ordering her son to "look over there! -go over there & look that way!" -as she frantically pointed in a direction opposite of where I was standing. She had a thick Jersey-ish accent (I can't place it precisely) & was obviously a tourist. That fact became crystal clear when she loudly muttered something to her husband about how "weird these Oregonians are" -oh, she didn't use those words exactly, but she said something along the lines of: "we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto!"
Instinctively, I retreated. I went outside to wait for my friends, but noticed MB gesturing from inside that I should return. He had seen it too, I gathered, and was encouraging me not to run & hide --I had nothing to be ashamed of, so I returned to the shop & stood my ground.
Now, I am not an overly confrontational person, but if you have a problem with me, & are stupid enough to let on to me that you do, I am definitely going to try to find out what your problem is. I spent way too much time in the company of passive-aggressive Minnesotans to want to play that game. So, true to form, I continued to nurse my baby & I kept my eye trained on this woman. Whenever I could, I met her eyes. I wanted her to know that I knew she was offended. And I wanted her to know that I was not ashamed, despite her best efforts to bring me down.
We watched as the Ed-Hardy-clad family made it's purchases & we waited until they left the shop. As they passed, someone in our group somewhat loudly said something like "it's so unnatural!" or something to that effect. We were indeed being somewhat provocative, although nothing was said to them directly. They hadn't gone more than a few paces down the sidewalk, when suddenly their 8 year old son turns, runs a few steps back & hollers at us: "FUCK YOU!" Stunned, we look at each other -what in the hell was that?! I think someone quipped that the poor kid must have been bottle fed, but certainly not loud enough for him to hear since he was some distance away. "I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE HELL UP!" -he yelled again. His parents made no move to bring him to heel. He seemed to be hollering at us with their full consent & blessing. It was nuts.
I have no idea what was going on beyond what I observed first hand, but I will hazard a guess that the child was most likely shamed by his mother for being curious about breastfeeding. I am willing to bet that he was gaping at me & she made him feel embarrassed and ashamed of himself. I know that feelings of shame can often cause someone to lash out in violence against the perceived source of such complicated emotions. Thus, he was mad at me for being there -for tempting his curiosity. Maybe I am wrong about this --I have no idea, but it seems as likely an explanation as any.
I am upset by this experience on a number of levels. On the one hand, I feel violated as an Oregonian --as though some unwritten but inviolable contract that I have with my home state was horribly breached. I have no idea where these people came from, but this place they were visiting is mine, it is where I feel most comfortable, it is a place that is accepting & kind. It was as though these foreigners had the nerve to walk into my living room and insult my way of life.
But I think the most awful thing for me is how I am now forced -against my will- to imagine the world from the hater's point of view. I always knew that there were people out there who think breastfeeding is disgusting, but I never met one -- I never had anyone look at my beautiful boy & me & think "gross! -what nasty business is going on here?!" The fact that someone can look upon something so miraculous, so loving, so beautiful & intimate and instead find it vile & strange is impossible for me to comprehend. Now, when I nurse my baby, I have that other awful vision in the back of my head. I know now that some people think it is a terrible thing. And I wish like hell I could protect X from all the world's hatred. It is so horrible to me that these people would deny X something that is his everything -it is his source of nutrition & comfort & a major way in which he feels loved.
Ugh -I feel dirty. I know they are wrong, wrong, wrong -but their energy is a pollutant & it hovers over....
Friday, November 6, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
glamour shots
Between naps today (yes, yes, there were naps! -- hallelujah!) I decided to bust out the photo lighting, the tripod & a muslin screen and set up a little portrait studio. We took a few clothed & nudie shots (X only, mind you -this mama is not disrobing for a camera ever). There weren't a ton of great photos, but a few were pretty stand out. I learned a lot in the process -hopefully next time we'll get better pictures.
Monday, November 2, 2009
mommy dearest
Okay, so I wasn't exactly at Joan Crawford levels of terrible mother ("no wire hangers!!"), but I sure as fuck wasn't June Cleaver either. Today was about as bad as they get...so far (tempering my words for those toddler moms out there who are rolling their eyes at this moment and thinking: "God, is she ever in for it!"). X has been cutting tooth #6 since God was born, or at least it feels like it's been forever (come in, already!). Last night he woke up sometime around 1AM and fussed & nursed off & on until 4. Then, this morning he acted like he wanted to nurse/nap around 9:15. We went in the bedroom to lie down, but he didn't fall asleep until 11:45. Yes, you read that right -that is 2.5 long, irritating, hours of nonstop boob sucking. He woke up at 1PM and by 2:15 he was acting sleepy/hungry again. So, again, another 2 hours of nipple torture and still he refused to sleep.
I left him in the bedroom for a while to think about his behavior --maybe he'd come around, repent of his wicked ways and give his mom a much-needed break. Nope. Some more nursing, during which he would drift off to sleep, I would attempt to extract my nipple, he'd wake, snuffle around looking for more boob, cry &...repeat. Occasionally, I lost my cool and nearly hollered things like, "HOLY SHIT, DUDE?! -REALLY? -DO WE NEED TO DO THIS FOR 3 FUCKING HOURS?!"...uh, yeah...not very conducive to creating a restful sleep environment.
A little after 4PM I was hopeless. I snatched him out of bed, plunked him on the living floor with some toys & sobbed for a few moments in desperation ("please, X! -would you please just sleep?!"). I tried the swing for a while -- stuffed him in it and turned my back, hoping he'd fall asleep (yeah, right!). He tried to weasel out of it. At 4:45 I GMail chatted a panicked message to M at work: "come home please!!!!" He logged off shortly after.
By 5:30PM X's eyes were ringed in red & he was giggling uncontrollably at the beach ball as I batted it at his head. Sleep was a lost cause at this point, despite the fact that he desperately needed it.
M arrived & suggested we take a walk to the grocery store. I should have known what this would mean. Unlike a lot of babies, X isn't lulled into sleep by the movements of a stroller or a car or anything. The kid needs to have a boob in his mouth to sleep. Period. Soooo, instead of a nice relaxing walk unencumbered by the demands of motherhood, I got to schlep X in the Ergo like I was some kind of pack animal while he sucked on my boob the entire way THERE & BACK. Yes. So, my day is destroyed and now the relaxing evening dad-time is also totally fucked. My jaw was tight & I kept clenching & unclenching my fists as I stomped through the autumn darkness. Poor M did not have this in mind either.
I think the most infuriating bit for me is not the endless nursing (although, hello! -ouch!), nor the nap strikes or any of that. It is that I must work my stupid job, so when X doesn't nap, I don't get any time to work (personal time?? -what's that??). And then as I am nursing X endlessly, stressing about the work I am not doing, I feel anger & frustration that I even have to work at all (which I don't -I chose to, for the additional income & the health insurance -- and, I should note, who quits a job in this economy?). And then when I holler, or tense up, I feel guilty & terrible for being such a shitty mother --and then the stress of being a shitty mother compounds the stress of having to work and it all boils over in a nasty, disgusting, terrible brew of inadequacy & irritation.
I know, I know...we all go through it. We all have those days when we're not exactly proud of our "parenting style" -- when we say things we don't mean & aren't as patient as we could be. But let's hope to have as few of them as possible, okay?!
I left him in the bedroom for a while to think about his behavior --maybe he'd come around, repent of his wicked ways and give his mom a much-needed break. Nope. Some more nursing, during which he would drift off to sleep, I would attempt to extract my nipple, he'd wake, snuffle around looking for more boob, cry &...repeat. Occasionally, I lost my cool and nearly hollered things like, "HOLY SHIT, DUDE?! -REALLY? -DO WE NEED TO DO THIS FOR 3 FUCKING HOURS?!"...uh, yeah...not very conducive to creating a restful sleep environment.
A little after 4PM I was hopeless. I snatched him out of bed, plunked him on the living floor with some toys & sobbed for a few moments in desperation ("please, X! -would you please just sleep?!"). I tried the swing for a while -- stuffed him in it and turned my back, hoping he'd fall asleep (yeah, right!). He tried to weasel out of it. At 4:45 I GMail chatted a panicked message to M at work: "come home please!!!!" He logged off shortly after.
By 5:30PM X's eyes were ringed in red & he was giggling uncontrollably at the beach ball as I batted it at his head. Sleep was a lost cause at this point, despite the fact that he desperately needed it.
M arrived & suggested we take a walk to the grocery store. I should have known what this would mean. Unlike a lot of babies, X isn't lulled into sleep by the movements of a stroller or a car or anything. The kid needs to have a boob in his mouth to sleep. Period. Soooo, instead of a nice relaxing walk unencumbered by the demands of motherhood, I got to schlep X in the Ergo like I was some kind of pack animal while he sucked on my boob the entire way THERE & BACK. Yes. So, my day is destroyed and now the relaxing evening dad-time is also totally fucked. My jaw was tight & I kept clenching & unclenching my fists as I stomped through the autumn darkness. Poor M did not have this in mind either.
I think the most infuriating bit for me is not the endless nursing (although, hello! -ouch!), nor the nap strikes or any of that. It is that I must work my stupid job, so when X doesn't nap, I don't get any time to work (personal time?? -what's that??). And then as I am nursing X endlessly, stressing about the work I am not doing, I feel anger & frustration that I even have to work at all (which I don't -I chose to, for the additional income & the health insurance -- and, I should note, who quits a job in this economy?). And then when I holler, or tense up, I feel guilty & terrible for being such a shitty mother --and then the stress of being a shitty mother compounds the stress of having to work and it all boils over in a nasty, disgusting, terrible brew of inadequacy & irritation.
I know, I know...we all go through it. We all have those days when we're not exactly proud of our "parenting style" -- when we say things we don't mean & aren't as patient as we could be. But let's hope to have as few of them as possible, okay?!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)