Sleeping. Beauty.

Gillian began sleeping in our bed, officially making it a "family bed"-an official term from "experts", about three days after she came home. At that time, she was 4 lbs, and I never knew how something that weighs 4 lbs could disturb my sleep so much. She grunted, she stretched, she whined, she grunted some more...when she was quiet I thought she might have stopped breathing, and had to check for the rise and fall of her chest. We got up in the wee hours of the morning to feed her-did you know that they replay late night tv even later in the night? Anyway, in desperation, I pulled her into bed one night. I discovered that she was quiet and happy sleeping snuggled up to my body, and we both slept better and longer that way. So, she became a bed Bean early on. Later on, I read that "cosleeping" is a foundation of "attachment parenting"; really, all I wanted was to sleep.

We coslept till last Saturday night. It made night nursing a breeze (I didn't even have to get up to feed her) because I learned how to nurse her laying down. Side-laying while nursing is fabulous because you get so good at it neither of you even really wake up. Anyhoo, we decided to try to get the Bean into her own bed to avoid having her sleep in our bed forever, so we started putting her down in a "cosleeper" at night-that's a little bed that attaches to my side of the bed. The rationale is that she has the comfort of knowing I'm right there, but she is in her own bed and will learn to go to sleep on her own. AND, in our case, the bed could and should do something besides hold my breast pump and random junk for $139.

So, Saturday was the day. She has been home almost 3 months, and is developmentally 2 months old. Most sleep books say the "sleep training" occurs between 3-4 months, and that is when habits form. To avoid problems with getting her in her own bed later on, we started putting her down in our bed a few weeks ago with a musical mobile, in the dark bedroom, with a low watt bulb dimly shining through the slats in the closet door so she will associate these things with bedtime. By Saturday, we started a new part-nurse, diaper change, get in sleepsack and hat, rock to sleep, then bedtime. Unbelieveably, the outcome so far is magical (knock on wood). No whining, no crying, no fussing...in fact, the first night she slept 5 hours straight before waking, the second night she slept 9 hours stright, and last night she slept 8.5 hours straight-heavenly. When she wakes up I pull her into bed and she finished the rest of the night next to me. I'll keep doing that for a couple more weeks, then she'll go back in her bed after eating. The goal is by three months, her sleeping in her own space all night.

Apparently, sleep is the cornerstone to baby's mental well-being (not surprising), and both quality and quantity are vitally important. Like, no sleep in moving things (doesn't allow for deep enough sleep to count), you're suppose to put a baby G's age down for a nap after 1-2 hours of wakefulness (someone tell her this, please...she is not a happy napper), your nap/night sleep Schedule should be written in stone, and you should give up your any activities that occur during baby's sleep time or risk creating a monster and/or create long-lasting health problems, like insomnia. All the advice you need to make you think that you will cause irreparable harm if you deviate from said Schedule. Excellent. Another thing to worry about.

The Importance of Poop

People take pooping for granted. For those that have it easy-lucky you. Some of us have struggled more than others to master this mindless biological function. Let me tell you from the experience of today- IT IS DEFINITELY NOT FUN TO DEAL WITH A CONSTIPATED INFANT. Gillian last pooped Tuesday. THEY say "breastfed babies rarely get constipated". THEY are wrong. Gillian has been miserable the past two days because she's constipated. A chip off the old block, I guess, but I never lived solely on breast milk. Which leads you to wonder, "HOW CAN ONE GET CONSTIPATED ON A LIQUID DIET??!!??" Anyway, the grunting, shrieking last night when I got to her belly during her massage, and straining tells me she's got problems. Big, hard ones.

Today Gillian woke bright eyed and bushy tailed promptly at 7 am, after spending most of the night in her cosleeper (this is our first foray into her-own-bedhood, so it is significant, but too much for this post, so we'll discuss later). She was her cheerful morning self-which we still can't understand (how do two nightowls produce a morning person?). From our delightful family morning in bed, the day rapidly deteriorated. Gillian was not interested in going down for a nap. She was very crafty and quite tricky pretending she was asleep until you put her down and started to tiptoe from the room. Then, just like a Bugs Bunny cartoon, her eyes popped open and you got made trying to abandon her in her moment of need (not really, but I imagine this is what she was thinking), and the howling began. Eventually, tag teaming the shower and morning beverages, we headed out to the baby mecca (a miracle that Sean stepped foot in the place; it was literally the second time in his life): Babies R' Us (BRU for the baby lingo savvy) to investigate back infant/toddler carriers. Sean wants one of these so he can work and wear The Bean...we have a front carrier, but since he works with chisels, planes, and blades, it would probably be a terrible idea to have her face right next to the wood he's working. We stopped for a quick lunch and Gillian thankfully didn't begin a fuss fest 'till I was two bites into my brownie, requiring me to inhale the last few bites and Sean and I made a fast exit (to avoid the withering and annoyed glances of the childless around us). At BRU, she was an angel, and had thankfully remembered how to suck on her pacifier and either fell asleep or pretended she was asleep so she wouldn't have to deal with the place (a sentiment I can completely understand). I felt all proud of MY baby at BRU; I mean, all the times before I had gone baby-less. People who saw me would have had no idea that the things I was buying were for my OWN infant. She was proof I BELONGED there. It was a good feeling. I was validated in the eyes of all those mothers and mothers to be as an honest-to-God legitimate peer-all those women I would never see again in my life. And It was Good.

Fast forward to home. Gillian nursed and fussed for over an hour. I rocked her for another half hour and she "fell asleep". This is in quotes because it was an act. I needed to run some errands, like grocery shopping, a quick trip to Target, and dry cleaning...not to mention the pharmacy for Gillian's reflux meds (another fun topic for later). Within 20 minutes of me walking out of the house I got a call from home. Sean was on the other end of the line asking if: 1) she was fed (Yes); 2) she had a clean diaper (Yes). Apparently she started yowling moments after my departure. Well, we NEEDED groceries, and SHE definitely needed some prune juice (what is used to help constipation in infants), so I forged ahead. Another call while at the grocery with a report that she had been screaming for an hour, which made me shop in record time. I got home and found Sean sitting in the rocking chair with sound eliminating headphones (the ones he uses in the shop) and the baby hysterical. Needless to say, she didn't love the prune juice I administered with an eyedropper till she had taken 2 tablespoons. After that even more traumatic experience (have you ever tried squeezing something into the throat of a screaming baby?), we settled down for a cozy nursing session to try to calm her nerves, and it worked. I threw in a nice clockwise tummy rub and all was well on earth again. She even delatched and cooed and smiled at me. "Oh, yeah...", I thought, "THIS is why I love you". Whew. Then as a bonus, the prune juice kicked in. Didn't clean things out completely, but we're on our way. I definitely see more prune juice in The Bean's future.

Gagging over spilt milk

NOTE: I finally captured not only a frown, but an out and out pout today. See updated post entitled "The Frown", below.
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When The Bean was delivered, I was terribly worried about her survival and didn't have the luxury of worrying about less immediate things, like breastfeeding. I pumped every two hours beginning the day she was delivered, and learned how thanks to a couple of very kind nurses and one very able lactation consultant. Somehow with her living in a glass box, attached to many wires and IVs, I established a fantastic milk supply (my mechanical pump and I got very friendly). I started nursing her once a day the day the speech therapist told me her suck and swallow reflexes were coordinating, and I was given the ok at 34 weeks 2 days gestation. Before that, she was fed my breastmilk through a feeding tube in her nose (interesting aside: they gave her a pacifier while feeding her through the tube to make her think she was filling her own belly). At first it was a little rough, because nursing too long burns too many calories with a baby that only weighs a few pounds, so we could only nurse 15 minutes and then most of the feeding went through the feeding tube. She took oral feeds once she was evaluated but they were bottles (except when I breastfed her), and whatever she couldn't finish went through the tube.

Fast forward to January 24...4 months and 8 days since her birth and 2 months since her due date. Getting her to take a bottle is a fight; amazing the difference a few months makes. She much prefers the cuddly comfort of The Boobie. Sean coaxes, encourages, and cheers her on when she take her one bottle a day, which he feeds her. Every single time she gags, chokes, cries, and is generally miserable, seemingly having forgotten that she has ever eaten from a bottle in her life (even though it is always less than 24 hours before). One day a week I am working and when I'm at work she does just fine after the first bottle. Did you know the tricky psychology of bottle feeding a baby includes: 1) Jedi mind-tricking baby into thinking his mama is not in the building by making sure she is out of sight; 2) Jedi mind-tricking baby into thinking his mama has evaporated into thin air and he couldn't have a Boobie even if he wanted one by her beating it completely (supposedly they can smell you if you're around); 3) slipping it in when baby is so sleepy he might not notice the silicone or latex isn't his mama; and 4) making sure his papa is the feeder of bottles as to not confuse. Supposedly, after she gets the hang of it, we won't have to be so manipulative. "When will that be?" we are currently wondering.

I am thinking about this topic because Gillian and I had a moment today while she was breastfeeding. Have I mentioned that she is the stretchingist baby in the history of babies? Anyway, she had woken up and started rooting (convinced there was a nipple hidden in her pillow, or the cover, or her arm...), so I started to feed her. If you sit right, the baby can look right up into your eyes, and she was doing that. A few minutes in, she delatched and streeeetched, arms over head, wrinkled forehead, arched back and all (we call this "turtle stretch"); instead of going right back to eating, she just stared into my eyes and smiled this beatific smile...this continued for at least 5 minutes. This is how you fall even more madly in love with your baby. One of the other things it does is makes you feel validated. There is nothing better on earth for your ego than a "oh-my-God-I-am-so-happy-to-see-you-mama" toothless squinty-eyed grin when baby sees you for the first time after waking up or when you've been away a few minutes, or a week.

When hell freezes over...

Go Bears! The City of Chicago is deliriously ecstatic, as we watched our boys spank the Saints (although I think all of us were sweating at the start of the 3rd quarter). We are officially going to the Superbowl!!! (but please GOD spare me the most assuredly endless playing of the Superbowl Shuffle for the next two weeks)

Sorry to any Charbonnets/O'Learys who are reading this, but we here were rooting for our hometown team this go 'round!! One can't discount the gains of the Saints in a single season, and if we didn't live in Chicago we would have been pulling for ya'll. I am thinking we [we being the collective of Chicago sports fans] might spontaneously combust with our multi-team successes over the past few years, but after dry spells like we have had for the excitement of championship games (no kidding-serious dry spells-like, 58 YEARS for the Cubs in 2003) I think I speak for the Collective We when I say I'll take 'em all bunched up like a pack of late CTA buses any day.

Progressus Angelorum

I often wonder what Gillian is thinking when she is ruminating about the sconces in the dining room. Or the ones in the bedroom...or, even the recessed lights in the living room. She seems so intrigued, as if she is waiting for secret messages from the great beyond. Entranced, really. At first I was alarmed, wondering if this was a sign of emotional or intellectual vacancy, until I had the good fortune of hearing one, then many, other moms say that their infant, too, had a fixation with lights. Turns out, after many hours of observing my infant and her obsession, I have a theory.

If you are a spiritual being, consider this (if you're not, a pity, but read on just for kicks). Hypothesis: wherever we come from, we return to once life ends. Whether you think babies drop off clouds after selecting the perfect family (I personally don't subscribe to this theory, because why would any child go to a war ravaged, poverty-stricken, or barren country or to deadbeat or otherwise addled parents?), or that souls are captured into a child the minute he takes his first breath (or anything in between, which there is plenty), this much is certain: the younger we are or the older we are, the closer we are to The Source. If you'll recall, many folks who have Near Death Experiences recall seeing a tunnel with a light at the end...or being bathed in a white light once they get there. (Now, before you scientific minded people rain on my philosophical parade, Yes I AM AWARE that science postulates that the tunnel effect is a lack of oxygen in the brain, but bear with me, please.) So, no one can interview an infant to see what his experience is as his soul enters his body or when his body enters this world. But I am betting it involved a bright place of peace. The Source itself, if you will. So, my theory is that babies love lights because it was a recent condition of their spirit...and that their souls derive from The Source (the giant heart or soul of the universe), which is beauty, peace, purity, and light. Anyone who has had a brand new baby can tell you that they are the purist innocence, and that living changes that some as they age...but if you have ever had the occasion to chat with a very old person, some of that childish innocence, shaded with a heavy dose of wisdom, smacks of the beauty of a brand new soul, as they prepare to return to The Source (kind of like how a raindrop returns to the ocean).

Hand to Mouth

Gillian has discovered her fists and fingers are good for sucking. Concurrently, she has begun drooling a bit. The developmental specialists came last week and showed me that she is able to hold onto things if you put them in her hand, so we were doing that when she discovered that things besides her fist can also go in her mouth. So, the first of many inanimate things went into her mouth today. It is the beginning of the end..enter fomites and germs and a neverending march of colds. Lets hope she waits until May when she is more likely to get GI illnesses instead of respiratory illnesses.

Speaking of specialists-they did a number of little tests to determine how developed The Bean is for her age. I had a suspicion that if she was stimulated outside the womb for an extra 10 weeks, she might not be quite a newborn as a newborn on her due date (most books tell you that your preemie will develop on schedule with her due date, not her birth date). It was confirmed (and I was endlessly relieved) to hear them say she was at approximately 3 months of development for motor skills and coordination/muscle strength and a bit over two months for cognitive development (at the time she was 6 weeks past her due date). So, as they said, she is "already bridging the gap between her birth date and due date". Supposedly this would happen by a year old anyway, but it is quite excellent to be happening already.

The evening fussies have returned and life gets complicated at about dinner time. Sometimes she wants quiet time alone, and the only thing that soothes her is to put her down in the bedroom with her Tiny Love musical mobile running, with the closet light on, and doors closed. We did this out of desperation last week and decided we'd let her cry for 5 minutes before going in to get her. But she never cried. An hour later I went in the room and she was still awake, happily engrossed in her mobile, enjoying the quiet. Other times, the swing is the only thing that works. Gillian hates to give in to her exhaustion...maybe she's afraid she'll miss something. Anyway, it is always a struggle every night, with many tears and much crying. She wakes up smiling and delighted every day, so the nights are a mystery to us.

Various and Sundry Things

Once again, it is completely, utterly "YUCKY" outside. That is our new word to take the place of the uglier words we may have used in the past, because our New Years Resolution is to stop swearing. This is harder than you might think, but vital. It would truly be a sad shame if The Bean were in a public place and uttered a scathing epithet (unbeknownst to her) whilst looking like a precious little darling girl, or better yet, looking like a precious little girl picking flowers, or something equally pristine (picture a couple old bags upon hearing this whispering behind their hands about our abysmal failure at parenting). Anyway, we haven't seen the sun much lately, and it is starting to wear on my nerves. It wouldn't be so bad if it were at least snowing, but it isn't. Just dreary, dreary, dreary. I miss our home state on days like today. So, today is VERY YUCKY.

The Bean and I are going to our second meeting of a few moms and babies in the neighborhood today, and I am looking forward to it! It gives me yet another excuse to avoid doing my research. No, really, it is an incredible relief to get out of the house every now and then and see someone other than your darling infant or husband, and more importantly, interact with someone besides your darling infant. You might be surprised to hear this, but one sided conversations with infants are often less than satisfying. They are more satisfying the older she gets, because at least now she reacts with legs kicking and working really hard to get the intermittent "g-oo!" or "gnah!" out with a giant smile on her face. This morning she even had her first stab at laughing, which was more than absolutely beautiful. Sidenote: I was amazed to notice that she smiled in her sleep since about 32 gestational weeks, and after having her home, I also noticed she chuckles in her sleep (while having a radiant, toothless, eye-squinting grin on her face). This is well before the social smiles of the past few weeks. I can only guess that happiness is more inherently wired than frowning (since frowning is a new development for us), and smiling and laughing are NOT learned responses. We come out knowing how to do them, but I guess we learn later that they are signs of happiness or comfort. ANYWAY, my conversations with my infant daughter are getting more fun every day, but it is a good thing to get out to have conversations with lovely women who also have infant children. Plus, as The Bean gets older, it will be very good for her to socialize with others since she is not going to daycare (at least not in the current plan).

Last Monday I started going back to work one day a week. It was very sad. I felt this inexplicable desire to weep as I kissed my sleeping angel "seeyalater" on my way out. In fact I did give over to my desire to shed a few tears in the comforting hug of Sean, who is always good for such things. But, an amazing thing happened...after continuing to have a large throat lump most of the way to work on the train, I started feeling lighter...more buoyant. I came out of the station, looked around the familiarity of the Jackson Station...the post office, the federal building...that weird orange metal thing. As I walked toward my building, I felt more purposeful. I realized as I dug in to my day and to my first meeting back that my job is a huge piece of my identity. I got to use my brain for more complex things than changing a diaper or gooing at my ever more attentive daughter. I know it is vitally important for her development to do that, and I love every second I spend with her, but I am not ashamed to say it was good to be in the office again. Of course, I had wings on my feet running home to see my girl at the end of the day, and scooping her up and burying my face in her neck to smell her perfect baby smell. Amazing how your arms ache to hold your baby after a day away. So, that was my first "one day a week". I will do this schedule for 8 weeks...then two days a week for 8 weeks, then full time in May. I am grateful that I am allowed to wean my way back to work, and I know I will miss these precious all day love-ins with The Bean. And although I am stressed that I'm not working on my school work enough, I think I would regret time not completely present with her more.

The Frown

So, we noticed last night that The Bean is doing something brand new. An honest-to-God, lip out, trembling chin frowny face, to accompany her crying. One the sad clown would be proud of. I have yet to capture this on camera, but will keep it nearby to see if I can document this new expression for you, Dear Reader. The problem is that this is likely an evolutionary sign if discomfort, meant to heighten the awareness of Mama Bear (that would be me) and affect action for a remedy. Instead it makes Sean and I laugh and "ahhh" in absolute adoration of her cuteness; clearly this was not part of her developmental plan. Also, we need to reign it in. We have 6 weeks before learning begins (so says all the books by experts), and we certainly DON'T want her thinking we don't take her needs seriously. See, this is the paranoia of "ohmygodI havetodoeverythingright!" that ones cultivates as a new parent. We definitely want a secure, well adjusted child; not one who became insecure because her needs were consistently not met. Not only not met, but scoffed at because they are cute. Now THAT would be quite a complex.

Yes, You Can!

S0, we decided (or more correctly, I decided) to use cloth diapers with The Bean. Yes, I know what you're thinking..."ew..., are you KIDDING?, were you born in a cave? don't they STINK? don't they LEAK? aren't they a pain to manage??!!? do you have that much time on your hands?" Alas, my friends, today's cloth diapering is not your mother's cloth diapering. For today we have FUZZIBUNZ. *ah, yes* Fuzzibunz are revolutionary! The microfleece keeps baby's precious tushy dry and is super soft on her skin. The adjustable snaps make them so easy to use that even the most skeptical husband can't complain that they're just too much bother. So, this system is called a "pocket diaper" for those of you unfamiliar. Pocket diapers essentially are stuffed with a superabsorbent cloth, microfleece, or hemp pad...they are microfleece on the baby's butt side, have the liner in the middle, are plastic on the other side of the pocket (to keep pee pee in), and a nice sturdy cotton on the outside for looks. They have elastic around their countoured edges. They come in a delightful array of colors so baby is always styling a new look.

I suppose I just decided that one baby contributing on average between 6,000 and 20,000 diapers to a landfill in his lifetime (depending on your source), or 20 trees according to EPA, was just too much for my conscience; this made even more personal seeing as how I work in environmental health, including several very problematic landfills so far. So, we bought 24 Size Small Fuzzibunz (small goes from 0-6 months of age), assuming that would mean we have to do a load of diapers every 2 to 3 days. We have a garbage can with a washable liner to put the dirty diapers and liners in-no rinsing needed! I know, you're wondering how you can just put poopy diapers in the pail with no rinsing to sit for a day or two?? Well, one thing they don't tell you in every baby book is that breastfed baby poop really isn't all that stinky, nor does it stain. So, we always prestuff the diapers and have them waiting in her top drawer; we go to change her, clean her up, take the liner out of the dirty diaper, and throw the diaper and the liner in the garbage can (in the washable liner), take a new and already stuffed diaper out of the top drawer and snap it on and go! We only have to think about the diapers every 2 to 3 days when it is laundry time. Otherwise, we just think-how cute is that [insert color] diaper with her little outfit?!?

So next time you have a Bean of your own, consider cloth diapering. Save a few trees. Or a forest.

A New Year

It is officially 2007. We are officially parents. We have a Bean. There are many mornings where we say "we are parents!" with awe and wonder, as if we didn't know it already...kind of like we said "we are married" for more than a year after the fact. As for ourselves, there aren't many clues when looking at us that we have morphed into parents (save the baby debris that litters the house).

Gillian, aka "The Bean", is a joy. She is innocence and beauty and purity in one tiny, perfect package. She is a blank slate. That is a terrifying realization...having a child that is a blank slate, and praying that you won't ruin it by being you (x 2 of us). She delights in the simple things, especially The Boobie, clean diapers, warmth (but not too warm), bath time, Mommy Monster, Pappa (any variant of Him), and things one dangles above her head (which she finds hilarious). She started smiling last week, and we have been hearing the random coo for the past few days. These developments are quite welcome as they make her more of a person than the non-reactionary newborn, by sheer nature, is.

So, we begin our New Year with a "for-the-rest-of-your-life" journey. As parents. Parents to The Bean, who has quickly become the center of our universe.