A few things

As Gillian grows into herself, it is funny and endearing to see some bits of myself and Sean in her. For example, I have wiggled/rubbed my right foot against things (usually my other foot, the sheets, pillows, other people's feet) when I'm cozy/sleepy since I can remember. The other night, I was nursing Gillian in bed (we were side-lying) and she was rubbing her little right foot on my thigh while she nursed. Lately, I have noticed her foot going all the time when she is sleepy or feeling especially snug, and it is fuzzy to think she got that habit directly from me.

Her level of patience could have been inherited from either of us, and when I say patience, I mean NONE. Well, except for the things we really can focus on...then we have all the patience on the planet (music, or woodworking, for example). She has started the phase where if you take something she is focused on, she gets upset. If she wants something, she is impatient to get it (throwing intermittent fits of frustration), but is stubborn enough to work on it until she reaches the prize (like a good handle on the delightfully crinkly bag of potatoes that she first had to work her way around the fruit basket to get ahold of).

She has also just started noticing the cat. Really noticing and trying to grab her. Poor Peepers, in all her post-baby neediness, will wish she never wanted loads of attention once Gillian is mobile. Yesterday, in her new found love of textures, she discovered the downy soft fur of Peepers, and grabbed a handful (and squealed in delight, which made Peepers' ears flatten on her head in annoyance). This is where moms start saying "gentle" and trying to show baby how to lightly touch kitty. Unfortunately, Gillian doesn't get it yet...but Peepers was an awfully good sport and let her "pet" several sticky handfuls of fur off before running away.

The week beginning tomorrow is my last week home with Gillian before going back to work full time. I couldn't have asked for more support and kindness from work when it comes to spending time at home with my first child. I will still spend 3 days a week with her, but it's not the same. I'll have to work through my feelings of being away from her forty hours a week and maybe missing some of her "firsts" while Sean takes on the daytime child rearing role (his work allows for much greater flexibility than mine re: hours and location, so this was a natural choice). But, as always, we make a formidable team, and everything will be just fine. One thing is certain-I feel quite fortunate that we have the option of raising our own child seven days a week.

The Kiss

Tonight, at dinner, I received my very first kiss from my infant daughter that was not requested. As in, I didn't kiss her cheek first then request a kiss from her. She just looked over at me (me who was hunched over the menu next to her little head), reached her little arm to hold on to the side of my face, and planted a wet one on my cheek. That can make you tear up for a second and feel a rush of love...a bit of affection from your 5 month old child.

The Beastly Baby

The original title of this entry was "On love and loving". After catching up on my blog-reading of other new mamas, it seems that there is a common theme on what it is to love your child, or how loving the child came to be. I planned to contribute some well thought out discourse on my thoughts and experience growing love for Miss Gillian; then our experience last night made me look at the whole thing differently. You always love your baby, but just like your husband, your family, and your friends, you may not always like your baby.

On Love
I loved the idea of Gillian when we thought it was about time to plant a little love seed; I was in awe of her when I felt her moving early in my pregnancy-at 12 weeks 5 days; I was terrified of her seeming fragility when she weighed 2.5 lbs in the NICU and didn't feel like my baby; and now-seven and a half months later-I can safely say I am in love with her. Head over heels in love-and it just gets deeper and more etched in me with every little smile and silly sound she makes. But as Sarah said in her blog, it certainly wasn't love at first sight (although I was moved to weeping the first time I saw her in the NICU 36 hours after her birth). I want to say that moms who get to be with their babies right away might feel the love sooner, but I don't think that's always true. I meditated on Gillian for 6 solid hours a day as I held her, skin to skin, for seven solid weeks at the hospital; prayed for her health, recovery, and growth every day, multiple times a day (per whichever challenge we were facing at the time)...I spent that time with her because it was suppose to help her, and help me...but you're always afraid to get too attached just in case (as if you would hurt less if you didn't spend the time and the baby didn't make it). I just held her and we smelled eachother and became comfortable with eachother-me and my tiny little china doll with all her strings. When you believe your baby's life is precariously hanging by a thread, you get grateful very quickly for good days (and starve for any tiny bit of good news from the doctors and nurses), and you value that little life so much. You don't take one second for granted. So that's how my love root started. It can shake to the core, but it is never broken...now I know how the many moms that get challenged by their headstrong or lost children later in life can still love them, no matter what. I can't say that there was a defining moment when I suddenly loved her, really loved her, but I can say the early love is instinct, and the later love is true human emotion. I feel like I came to love her the way I came to love her father-only by getting to know her.

The thing about having a baby is that it creates a depth in life that you never realized until you stand there and look it square in the eye. It is something you can't explain to people who don't have children. I feel so much more bonded with my in-laws now that we are all parents. There is another dimension to the relationship based on the depth of love and the instinct to "protect at any cost" it is possible to feel for another human being.

"Fool, not to know that thy little shoe
Can make men weep
-Some men weep.
I weep and I gnash
And I love the little shoe
The little, little shoe."
-Crane

On Not Liking
Which brings me to my second point. You don't always like the people you love. That goes for your precious baby. Sometimes they frustrate you beyond belief, and in an effort to not mentally scar them for life with how you really feel, you put a cork in it and smile, speak in your gentle voice, and try again. Last night was a case study in this phenomenon. To be fair, Gillian is a very good baby, and our bad nights are few and far between, so my whining may be scoffed at by some (the ones who could legitimately say, "let me tell you about my colicky nightmare" for example..or the ones that look like they haven't slept since the baby was born, but I digress).

Anyway, I have had some milk supply issues the past couple of days, and have noticed in the past that that can happen if I am tired (although never on this scale). So, instead of staying up to get a few hours of time to myself and thereby ruining any amount of quality sleep (a deliberate choice I have been making a lot lately, and no fault of my great sleeper of a baby), I decided to go to bed early. At 9:30. That, by my estimation, would give me about 9 hours (including her feeding) of good quality sleep. I woke up at 1am because it was raining, and the rain was creating annoying drip on the window unit by my side of the bed. After getting some water, I decided to check on G to make sure her covers were still on (she often kicks them off and can get cold). Oh, Why did I try to pry them out from under her legs and straighten them out??!!?? Normally, that wouldn't have been an issue. She might have stirred, stretched, then been out. So, she stirred, stretched, and knocked her little crib mirror with a rattle in it (grrr for the rattle). DRATS. That is how our night from hell with the Beastly Baby began. For the record, I do not like the Beastly Baby. Not at all.

I assumed she would got back to sleep and made my escape before she saw me. Through the monitor on my bedside table I heard her playing with the mirror. Tugging at the rattle, cooing in delight, making dolphin sounds. For an hour. And then the dastardly dripping from the rain on the metal window unit. At our wits end and unable to find a ratty old towel, we put a ratty old pillow on top of the window unit to mute the dripping. Gillian still was playing, but getting riled up. So, I nursed her early, at 2am. She seemed decently sleepy to go back to her own bed so I put her back in her room. Through the monitor I could hear that the playing resumed...and the singing and vocals resumed. She would not go back to sleep! I, in desperation (and for Sean's sake, who had to get up at 5am for work) brought her to the bedroom to try to calm her down. She wanted to play, not sleep. Instead of being soothed, she got more wired by being in bed with us. So, after Sean went to the guest room to sleep and after I gave up on Gillian sleeping with me, I took her back to her room, sat in the rocking chair with the intention to nurse. I say intention because she would suck, delatch and smile/laugh and/or coo at me (even with my eyes closed trying to fool her), or strrreetch, then look at me, relatch, suck a few times...over, and over, and over. To my charming happy baby: This I did not like. Not after going to bed early to catch up on sleep, not after being awake for two hours in the middle of the night, not at all. This is even more frustrating when you let down and baby delatches to be cute at you while your milk drips all over you and her. Then the lump of frustration forms in your throat ("just eat!!!!", you think in your meanest growly internal voice). I switched sides, and she seemed more focused, and seemed to be asleep after about an hour in the rocker (we're up for three hours at this point). So I carefully put her down and her eyes popped open and she gave me my-usual-favorite-thing-on-the-planet (but not at that moment) giant, toothless grin. I whispered "I give up", covered her, kissed her goodnight, and went back to my empty bed. I turned off the monitor and decided she could play all she wanted and stay up forever if she wanted, but I was having no part of it. I was going to bed. And I did. And she was still alive and still happy when she got up at 7am this morning, in spite of it all. And my deep canyon of love was still intact when we layed in bed smiling, laughing, and playing together-the Beastly Baby, in my eyes, was transformed back to my precious girl. And all was well again.

"Its tiny eyes were surrounded by large black rings due to fatigue, for its guilty conscience hardly ever allowed it to sleep."
-Edward Gorey

Gillian the Dolphin

As all moms can attest, a phase babies go through when they discover their own voices is called "singing"- repetition of a specific sound, over and over. Our house has sounded like an aquarium for going on 5 days now. When babies become vocal, it adds such a "warm chocolate chip cookie" kind of comfort to your home...I guess it feels more like home. Like before, except way more chocolate, which is very good.

Sellout

I have always tried to make environmentally conscious decisions. I have driven the tiniest little Honda with great fuel efficiency for coming up on 9 years. Dear Sean, all 6'3'' of him, has managed to deal with my (now our) tiny car-for the past 5+ years that we have lived here-as his sole vehicle (and I can safely say he really misses his Toyota Tacoma that we sold before moving here). I recycle religiously...use rechargeable batteries in everything and generally try to live as clean as I can.

I am struggling to justify what we will do on Saturday, but I guess the bottom line is that we are not willing to risk Gillian's life (or our own now that she's in it) in our tiny shoebox of a car any longer:
*We saw how our front end looked after Sean slid on ice into the back of a minivan going less than 5 miles an hour. The Honda? Totalled, folks (we still fixed it-it was cheaper than getting something that required payments). What if it was a side impact? It's amazing how your world view changes once there's an infant in it.
*Gillian's about to outgrow her infant seat, which barely fits in the hatchback (the next seat up will definitely not fit).
*The hatchback is a two-door car. Have you ever tried lifting something heavy, like an infant carrier full of infant, from the middle of a backseat, navigating the tangly seat belt and passenger seat (which doesn't really go up enough to pull her out without a fight)??
*Sean's staple will become cello making, and cello making requires huge pieces of wood and super-sized tools, such as industrial sized drill presses, and joiners, and electric planers, and power sanders, etc. etc. Neither the pieces of wood nor the tools fit in the Civic, unless, of course, we pull the infant seat base out every time we put the seats down to load the back.

And how sad that a mid-size sedan felt like a sardine can for all 3,000 miles of our cross-country extravaganza with all the baby gear, which is the impetus for this whole crazy purchase ('cause my heart was set on a Honda Civic Hybrid that gets 50 mpg)...I will never snort in disdain at another SUV driving soccer mom ever again (well, except that one that drives a pink Hummer in Evanston-she deserves it; or anyone who thinks they need to drive an Army truck for city living, for that matter). Now I KNOW. When you have multiple children (and we are buying with family expansion in mind), you are destined for a minivan (just YUCK) or a more sporty SUV, or to never taking road trips with infants and sticking with your sedan. That said, I still can't understand why people choose to afford the Cadillac Escalades or the Ford Expeditions (which, quite frankly, require enough gasoline to fuel a small army of my Civic).

Well, we're selling out. We're buying a Honda CRV. On Saturday, ironically the day before Earth Day. We are getting something with cargo room for Sean to haul wood and tools that doesn't require the removal of the infant seat to put the seats down to do the hauling. It is safe, and roomy for our little family. It is grownup. It has room for the car seat, and has a LATCH system. I regret that it's not a hybrid, but they aren't making small SUV hybrids just yet. And I am going to sell my sweet little car that has served me so well since 1998, when I finally gave up on my '72 VW beetle (aka "Lima Bean", that had stylin' daisy hubcaps). I have gotten so attached to my two "all-manual-all-the-time" life cars. I just don't think that will happen this time. How can you fall in love with something so tall?? (perhaps the seat warmers and sunroof might help)?

I, Michelle, Mother of Gillian, Wife of Sean, am officially going to the dark side of convenience over environmental responsibility. I am buying an SUV. I am a sellout, a pseudo-yuppie, double-talker. At least my conscience will be clear during the workweek, where I will continue to take public transportation. I suppose I can call it Sean's car, and free myself from the guilt (since it is true that I typically drive about 3 miles a week one day a week, and that is usually for food shopping...and the occasional jaunt to Target or Baby Mecca-aka Babies R' Us). But I am in the car when Sean drives on Fridays and Sundays, which would make it our car, no matter how you slice it.

So, today is my birthday.

At 12:51 this afternoon, I turned 33. As I await my birthday cupcakes and my accompanying husband, I am reflecting on the truly remarkable changes that have occurred in my life in a single year. I think of the whole multi-universe postulate of quantum theory…the one that there are limitless possibilities all living within parallel universes. I could be experiencing any of them…and I believe this, is indeed, the best of all possible worlds. I have a content, sweet, beautiful daughter; a truly excellent husband; I love my inlaws like they were handpicked to step in when my parents passed away; I have a job I love, a home that is comfortable, and the company of great friends. I don’t want anything for my birthday…except the continued blessings that are already in my life.

It could have all gone so differently. Everyone in my side of the family struggles so much…financially, emotionally, and physically. I am the only one with a college degree; the only one who decided that the way I grew up was not where I wanted to go as an adult. Contrary to them, I decided the struggle of working full time while getting my education was easier than struggling for a lifetime without one. They don’t feel like they have the luxury of thinking about next week when they barely get by day to day. My brother has had cancer six times and is paralyzed and confined to bed…and he’s only 40 years old. God doesn’t have to rain blessings down into my life…he just has. Maybe it’s my angels, particularly my mother, whom I really believe surrounds me wherever I am, and guides me in this life. Either way, when I kiss Gillian’s sleeping head I honor all these beautiful things with a few minutes of prayer-giving thanks for the things that are somehow in my plane of experience, and praying for the health and wellbeing of my family. Being grateful for these gifts, I have found, keeps you humble, and humility keeps you completely present.

I could have ended up anywhere, and here I am, with no answer when Sean asked “what do you want for your birthday?” What a great day.

Girl Talk

Nonni and Gilly have a heart to heart while in Tallahassee...

New Things Since We Were Last Home

The new things are twofold: 1) Stuff Gillian is doing and 2) Stuff we learned doing ahuge road trip (~3,000 miles) with a baby. Interestingly, you learn as much about yourself as you do about the baby when you do a long road trip...and you learn a lot about the things that work and the ones that don't.

1) Stuff Gillian is doing
Gillian has changed so much since we left (the difference two weeks makes!). Here are the highlights:
· She has discovered textures, and now loves to touch, scratch (to hear the sound something makes), and feel everything she can get her hands on. When nursing she very sweetly lightly touches my chest and arms and rubs my shirt between her fingers (this latter behavior began well before the trip, but is endearing none-the-less).
· Two little tooth buds are showing in the center of her bottom jaw-of course, these could take months to erupt (though she is really liking frozen teething toys), but they are there! The recent fuss fest at random times of the day lead me to believe she may be pre-teething, the amorphous term that basically means that your baby can be uncomfortable for any length of time before the teeth actually come in. This is not even close to consoling for control freaks like myself who really like to know what we're in for, so we can plan. Plan-shmam. Welcome to Parenthood.
· Her eyes are turning...little flecks of gold are appearing, so she will have green eyes or hazel eyes (yay!)
· She coos are receiving kisses and is happy to oblige giving an open mouth sloppy kiss (see video).
· She has become increasingly more vocal, complete with the occasional squeal, squawk, screech, and generally loud other sounds (she honed these skills at the dinner table with her very vocal family-she learned to get a word in edgewise, she had to speak up!). Although she was suspiciously quiet at playgroup today.
· She is reaching for things and grasping them. She seems to notice when she drops things (unlike before) and sometimes will try to retrieve them, which is a big deal and has some cognitive relationship to the idea of permanence.
· She has rolled over from belly to back every day at least once. Probably because she has really never LOVED being on her belly for long stretches. Now she has the power to change her circumstances all by herself. Pretty amazing.
· We tried a mama milkshake to test her extrusion reflex. She found it strange..and exciting. I am still on the fence about feeding her solids at 4.5 adjusted months, but she watches us eat like a hawk and is very interested in dinnertime...and then there's the whole "her GI started functioning 10 weeks sooner than a newborn" thing that makes me think she could be ready. This is on my list of things to ask at her doctor appointment next week (the current medical wisdom says to wait till the baby is 6 months old for solids to avoid food allergies).

2) Stuff we learned doing a huge road trip (~3,000 miles) with a baby:
· It is impractical to think you will drive 550 miles and stop every time the baby eats or poops. You will succumb to the temptation of taking her out of the seat and nursing her as you fly down the highway at 80 miles per hour, hoping that today is not the day that God tests you with some life tragedy, like a run in with a drunk trucker.
· You will become a serious pro at changing a baby's diaper on your lap in the backseat, balancing the wipes, the change pad, and the soiled and new diaper all at the same time. You will know you have reached the highest level of prowess when the baby pees in the split second between the time you take off the old diaper and put on the new one if you can soak up the new puddle with the wipes before she gets urine all over herself and her clothing. BUT, even more importantly, you learn that you must always, always, always have at least two changes of clothing in the event that the baby pulls a fast one on you (and yes, she certainly will!) or has a blowout (which leads us to the next item).
· Blowouts (where poo magically escapes the elastic leg and waistbands of a diaper to travel up baby's back or down baby's legs) can be catastrophically messy under ideal conditions. Let me explain one such situation. We took the baby to the bank where her Grandaddy works to show her off to his colleagues before his birthday lunch. I was topping her off in the parking lot to ensure she wouldn't be hungry/fussy during lunch, when I heard the telltale rumble (and felt it, for that matter). At first, I think "she just needs a change". Then upon lifting her to get out of the car to set up a makeshift changing station out of the backseat, I realize I have a puddle (more like a small lake) of mustard-looking breast milk poo in my lap on my sundress. Gillian is covered in it, down to her pretty matching white shoes. It would have been truly hilarious to watch Sean hold her over the pavement with poo dripping down her legs and onto the pavement while I tried to get all her clothes off and wipe her down, whilst also covered in baby poop. This long, rambling point is that even though you wouldn't think so, it might not be a terrible idea to pack a change of clothes for yourself in that diaper bag. Oh, and don’t be disappointed if instead of a beautiful little white sundress, matching eyelet drawers, and matching white mary janes for a special occasion, your child goes to that special brunch and to meet those colleagues barefoot in a plain cotton Carters outfit (just be thankful you remembered the plain Carters outfit just in case). NOTE: I have never had a blowout with my cloth diapers, probably because there is serious elastic in the legs and waist. ANOTHER NOTE: This also happened as we were about to get out of the car on Easter morning when we were arriving at mass. Thus, even though you planned to have the baby wear those cute little tights with her booties and dress, it's never a bad idea to bring a pair of lacy socks to substitute the poop-ridden tights and booties in a pinch.
· A mid-size car is not big enough for traveling for long durations with an infant. If it were Sean and I, we would have had exactly 2 bags and 2 instruments. Here is what we brought for a 14 pound infant:

1. Large duffel bag filled with every piece of clothing you have for the baby, because you will change the baby multiple times a day (see previous bullets, above).
2. Playmat
3. Diaper bag, filled to the brim
4. Bag with full pack of diapers, extra wipes, bottle warmer, extra gallon bags, extra bottles, extra milk collection bottles, etc.
5. The Bumbo (a must have for us-worth it's weight in gold)
6. The cosleeper
7. The stroller
8. The car seat
9. The breast pump
10. Toys to amuse her for 30 hours in the car.

· Not every rest stop or gas station has a changing station, and those that do don't always have them in the handicapped stall. This last bit is vital-going to the bathroom is rough when you have to hold the baby at the same time. Unbuttoning your pants one-handed is no fun, and putting the baby on the filthy floor is not an option. If the change station is in the handicapped stall, you can put the baby down, go to the bathroom comfortably, then change the baby. In an ideal world, there would also be a sink in that stall so you can leave the baby lying down while washing your hands, but this is not an ideal world. So, on more than one occasion, I left her on the table with the door to the stall open while washing my hands and keeping an eagle eye on her from my sink-vantage point. In one instance a woman walked into the stall with the baby and was startled...till she saw me. It would be interesting (and sad) to think for a second that someone could abandon their child in a gas station bathroom.
· Everyone loves a baby. Random people said such kind things about Miss G, and it made me feel fuzzy about humankind in general. Particularly since we have tried to keep her in a virtual glass bubble to avoid RSV...I have missed out on all the nice compliments and adoring glances up till now, and it was fun.

I am sure there is plenty more to expound upon later, but I am tired and still feel like I could sleep for a week. Driving eats up any relaxing you might do, and it is exhausting to cart a baby across the country for everyone to meet. I am sure it was even more exhausting for her. However, it was a really special trip, and it was just fabulous to spend such quality time with family and friends. To all of you that we were blessed to spend time with-we love you and already miss you!!

Hopefully, G will get back to normal soon enough. Till then, we persevere with her erratic naps and fussiness (which may or may not be pre-teething). I leave you with her new kissing sound. I believe she is trying to imitate what she thinks I sound like when I go "mmmmwwah!" when I kiss her cheek.

Home Again

Well, we survived a two-week-away-from-home driving extravaganza that began with two days of driving to New Orleans for G's christening, then a six hour drive to Tallahassee, FL to hang out with the grandparents, then five hours to the Appalachian mountains to visit my family, then to Atlanta to see friends...then a two day drive home (the last day of which was through rain, then sleet and snow to remind us that we are, in fact, home).

Needless to say, there is a lot to write about as I process the whole experience, but not tonight. *yawn*